#TRYING to acclimatize

[bogkeep]

nice weather

[born-to-lose]

God I miss this bar, I wanna go back so bad

[gaystreetsmarts]

why did crowley's feet burn in the church but not in heaven?

[starlitsilver]

resolutions or something idk

january's half over, so i'm gonna write out some (vague) goals/resolutions for this year. i dont need to do all of them (or do them perfectly) but at the end of this year i wanna check back in and see what i've learned from doing them, or trying

i want to do volunteer work again, either social (so like, volunteering at pride this year) or ecological/conservation-based

i want to get more involved in local politics/civics. dunno what kind of form this is gonna take, but i want to at least attend some more city council meetings

learn more about local wildlife! just in general. might start keeping a notebook for nature observations or something

try more art hobbies like embroidery and sculpting (and get better at photography)

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Twelve

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, smut. Handjob, praise kink, Simon talks you through it. Feelings of fear and anxiety, self doubt, self consciousness. Small panic attack. Comfort. Domestic slice of life. Penny lore. POV switch. A glimmer of morally grey. One step forward, two steps back.

You almost forget where you are.

Almost.

The struggle is brief, trying to acclimatize to the changes, dark green sheets pooling around you, emerald tones rich and ambient, the sage green comforter pulled up over your shoulders.

You almost forget, but Simon’s bulk is nearly suffocating, and you’re pushed up against Johnny, crowded between two immovable objects, two sky high walls.

He’s got you tucked into his chest, hand pressed firm against your belly, leg thrown over yours. Your hand still rests on Johnny, covered by his own, and you blink blearily at the bolts of morning light streaming in through the windows.

“Go back to sleep.” Simon’s mumbling right over your ear, ghost of his breath sending goosebumps down your arms. “It’s early.” He snuggles closer, shoulders curled over yours like a blanket, blazing heat bleeding from him to you… everywhere. His cock throbs against your ass, folded up against his stomach, nestled against your skin. Your mouth goes dry when you allow yourself to focus, to look, to feel, thighs squeezing together, a lust filled whine building in the back of your throat.

This is new. 

You don’t do this… your mind, your body, has always been trapped in a fight or flight, survival mode taking over your core needs and instincts, leaving no room for desire, or affection.

But this... this is different. This is safe. 

Your hand drifts lower on Johnny’s stomach. He’s shirtless, satin skin soft under your touch, and it’s almost on instinct when you settle your palm under his navel, a safe distance away from his sutures and graft, hovering north of the elastic in his sweatpants. He’s hard beneath them, outline mouthwatering in the quiet morning, and you lick your lips.

What are you doing? 

Simon’s fingers idly stroke that spot on your waist, where your hips fold into the space beneath your ribcage, swirling his touch down your belly and around, steady and safe, an anchor in turbulent seas. Your fingers dip beneath the band, mindful of his hip, sliding through curls, just barely grazing the root of Johnny’s cock.

What’re you doing? 

Are you really doing this?

You haven’t touched, or been touched, in ages. It’s foreign, and terrifying, and doubt clouds your head, anxiety rocketing through your veins to your heart, where it triple beats.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothes, sliding a hand over yours, guiding you to where he curls his fingers and yours around the base, tightening his grip into a squeeze.

“I-“

“Want to touch him? Like this?” He murmurs, keeping his voice low, scratchy and gritted against your ear. You’re breathing in time, chests rising and falling together, and you nod hastily, too afraid to lose the scrap of courage that keeps trying to flicker out.

“Y-yeah.” You whisper. You do want to, you want to so badly.

Johnny stirs. He tugs at his pants, not quite awake, trying to pull them down, and Simon helps silently, carefully tucking the elastic lower as to not put pressure on his injuries. He blinks sleepily, confused, before finding your face, impish smile spreading across his cheeks, eyes drifting shut again. He’s not wearing anything beneath them, his thick, uncut cock bobbing free at his partner’s urging, and you gasp at the sight. He’s already flushed, bead of pre-come glistening from the tip, and you hesitantly reach for it, Simon’s hand still covering yours.

“Need to start slow.” Simon coaches, both of your hands moving from root to tip together, squeezing at the base when he encourages you to do so. “Don’t want him tensing up, straining his injuries. Nice and- good bunny, just like that.” His cock is blaring hot in your palm, and you work him gently at Simon’s urging, watching his face twitch and eyebrows creasing, bottom lip tugged underneath his top teeth.

“Fuckin- hell-“ He hisses, hips trying to jerk upward.

“Relax.” Simon instructs, stilling him. You keep up the movement, iridescent spend slicking your strokes, slippery sounds filling the room.

“Ach.” Johnny moans, and you throb, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. Simon coos at him.

“Lucky boy, havin’ our bunny take care of you.”

“A-aye.” His fingers tighten in the sheets, eyes still slammed shut, and Simon squeezes your hip.

“You can go a little harder, like this.” He increases the rhythm, tightening his grip over yours, and your hips tilt back, pressing into the hardness settled against your cheeks, pressure returned with a flex of his own. “That’s it, that’s what he likes. Good girl.”

“Si.” His voice breaks. “P-please… d-d-“ He’s unable to get his words free, gasping for air like he’s just gone out for a run, haggard draw of his lungs stretched to the limit as you hold your own.

“I know sweet boy, you’re so backed up, I know. We’ll fix it.” You think you’re going to explode between them, heat and pressure and atmosphere all bearing down on your bones, grinding them to dust inside your skin. You’re not even sure you’re in your own body in this moment, watching from afar, mystified and impressed at your boldness, your courage, your abandonment of the wall you've so steadily remained perched on. “Breathe, Johnny.” Simon reminds him steadily.

The girl in the mirror is nowhere to be found. It’s just you, and Johnny, and Simon, together.

“You’re doing so well.” Simon hums. “Makin’ our boy feel good, what a good little bunny.” Jesus christ. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head, thighs like a vice, squeezing together so tight, desperate for friction against your clit. Your hips are rocking on their own now, small, micromovements pushing you into Simon again and again, Johnny whimpering and crying as the two of you stroke him harder and faster.

“Will you show our bunny how much of a mess you make, Johnny? Gonna come all over our fingers?” Simon pushes him harder, his legs twitching against yours, and Johnny gasps like he’s in pain, nearly crying, on the edge of a precipice.

“Ah, ah- ‘m gonna-“ He explodes in your hands, coating your fingers with creamy spend, rivers of it running down your fist, strokes slowing to a stop as he pants and shudders.

“Oh there it is- good boy, so good.” He tugs until Johnny is empty, and then raises your hand to his mouth, lips closing around your fingers to lick them clean.

You feel faint. Johnny smiles lazily. “Well, good mornin’ to ye too, bun.”

“I-“ What are you going to say? You don’t know what came over you? Sorry? Good morning? Everything evaporates on your tongue, happiness burning to ash.

“You alright?” Simon asks, rubbing your hip. Still, no words come. All you can do is stare at him. “Bunny? Hey.” He shifts, and Johnny tries to sit up, bliss morphing into concern.

“Pretty girl.” He holds your hand, thumb rubbing against your knuckles, and you try to remind yourself to breathe.

What are you doing? 

“Everything’s okay.” Simon is on his knees now, dipped down in front of you, cradling your jaw. “You’re okay, bun. Just breathe for us.” He rubs your back, and Johnny keeps his fingers curled against your pulse point. They steady you, anchor you, and you surface again, free from the wave of black water trying to drag you down.

“S-sorry.” You hiss, chest less tight. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“Lay back.” Simon urges. “I’m going to go get a towel to clean up, stay here.” You nod, cuddling close, your head resting on Johnny’s chest, his touch slow on the back of your neck.

“Ye’re with us, bunny. Ye’re safe.” You close your eyes with a whisper.

“I know.” 

The unsteady peace of the morning doesn't last very long. It’s not too soon after Simon gets Johnny cleaned up that Penny is awake, baby monitor sparking to life, dragging him from the other side of the bed and down the hall.

“How did ye sleep?” Johnny murmurs, still holding you close.

“Good. Great, actually. How are you uh, feeling?”

“Okay. Hip is throbbin’ but I imagine it’ll always be like that from now on.”

“It will get better. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” His thumb brushes your cheek.

“Come here.” You inch closer, bringing your faces together and he kisses you, soft and delicate in the early glow of the day. “Dinnae like ye being so far away. Need ye close. Helps me feel better.”

“You’re such a brat.” You tease, but can’t help giving him another kiss, basking in his warmth. He pushes back against you, flushed. Tan skin warmed bronze and rubicund on his cheeks, almost pink. His eyes are a brighter shade of blue, clear like Caribbean waters, lips swollen, and bee stung. He looks… so fucking hot. Like Hercules, a hero, tired after battle.

 “You sound like Si.” His hand lingers along the curve of your hip, inciting the riotous butterflies into a flurry, heat simmering in your belly. “I like these.”

“My sweatpants?”

“Aye. They fit ye well.” He peeks over, and you giggle despite yourself. He makes it so easy, to feel weightless, free, smiling as handsome as ever, long strands of mohawk falling into his eyes.

“Think you need a haircut.”

“I do. Si usually does it, but I think he’ll be nominatin’ ye this time around.”

“I can’t cut hair!”

“Ach, ‘ts not that hard. Ye just trim a little off the ends and be done wit’ it.” You roll your eyes, and the door cracks open, revealing Simon and Penny, sippy cup in hand.

“See? He’s right there.” He hums, holding her steady, her arms already reaching for where Johnny waits. “Da’s right here.”

“My wee lamb.” He cuddles her into his good side, kissing and cooing, letting her bounce on the bed. “Hey princess. Ye have a good breakfast?”

“She’s on another banana kick.” Simon sighs, kissing his forehead, and then turning to you. “Okay?” He checks in, focused and concerned, and you nod.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Forgot to ask how you slept…” He eyes the bed.

“Good, yeah. I… slept really well.”

“Guess ye’ll just have to sleep in here for now on.” Johnny quips, fingers preoccupied by being dragged towards Penny’s mouth. Sleep in here for now on? Like, with them?

Pen coos, tipping towards you with a chubby little smile. “Bunny.” She babbles, fingers straining.

Your hand finds hers, holding on to keep her upright. “Good morning to you too, little miss. Sorry I neglected you.” You sign ‘good morning’, one of the few you know from work, and she claps, thrilled. Simon beams.

“Yes, she’s terribly neglected.” He sits at Johnny’s side, mindlessly stroking his leg, massaging and working the muscle in his calf. “How do we feel about getting you downstairs?” He nods, and you roll over, sliding off the bed to lumber towards his crutches.

“Nice and slow.” His fingers brush yours as he takes them, and a shy smile works across his face.

“Ye’ll help me?” Simon tsks, but you sigh playfully.

“Of course.”

Getting Johnny settled is easy. You build him a nice little nest with the pillows from the couch, fluffing them for support, making sure he’s comfortable, until Simon reminds you to take it easy.

“You’re not at work, let me do this.”

“I don’t mind…”

“I do. Sit.” He leans you back into the cushions, settling you both, plopping Penny down between you. “If you keep an eye on her, I’ll get breakfast.” She crawls into your side with her sip cup, and you try not to tense when she curls up against your ribs. Her feet press against Johnny’s thigh, and he cups them both in one hand, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every little piece. Deep breath. You can do this. 

“Isnae she the bonniest thing ye’ve ever seen?” He breathes, and you nod.

“She really is. The cutest.”

“She looks like ‘im.” He murmurs, and you blink, glancing down at the baby. Like who?

“Like…” the curiosity falls out of your mouth in a hurry, and you grimace. He gives you a weird look.

“He didnae tell ye?”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s his. Simon’s.”

“Wait, I thought…” You don’t what you thought. You assumed she was adopted, or something else. “She’s…”

“We got turned down by every agency, ye know. Two dads, active combat roles.” He leans forward, tickling her arm, and her eyes light up, like she’d forgotten he was there. You help her straighten, and she scoots over closer to him, trying climb him like a jungle gym. “Ah, Penny. No. Da’s hurt.” He makes the sign for what you assume is hurt, his pointer fingers motioning towards one another. “Hurt, Penny. Da is hurt.” He does it again, and she cocks her head. “Here, sit here, there’s a girl.” She settles easily after that, completely captivated by the old Disney movie Johnny flicked on. “Anyway, no one would let us adopt a baby. Felt like it was goin’ be impossible, and we almost gave up. Then we met Pen’s mum.”

“You knew her?”

“Aye. She’s special. Gave us a chance.” Something green and snappish curdles in your stomach. It’s illogical, insane, and you try to beat it back. “We didnae know, obviously, who the dad was goin’ be but, I’m so glad it was him.”

“Did you…”

“Do it naturally?” He wiggles an eyebrow. “Nay. We both donated and she did it at home.”

“And... Simon said she's not in Penny’s life?”

“Not right now. She will be again, one day. She jus’ travels a lot and is really committed to her job. Has no parental rights, nothin’ like that. But she’s not against seeing Penny, the adoption is open.”

“That’s great.” Adoption is delicate, you know. There’s no one size fits all when it comes to nature of it, and you’re relieved to hear it sounds like they have something that’s healthy for Penny, and everyone involved.

“Sorry, thought he would’ve told ye.”

“It didn’t come up, and I didn’t want to… pry. He mentioned she was deaf when I asked about the sign language.”

“Eh, pry all ye want. Ye’re in our life, ye should know these things. And aye, she’s fully deaf. Travels as an interpreter for the U.S. military. Works with some important guy at the top. Dinnae know much about it.”

“That’s really cool.”

“We’re very grateful to her.” He strokes some of Penny’s curls from her forehead, and you look closer, watching for similarities, her chubby cheeks and chestnut dusted dark blonde hair now starting to look reminiscent of Simon, the longer you study her.

“I’m happy for you guys.” He glances from her to you with a beautiful smile, so handsome it makes your chest hurt.

“Me too.”

“I think,” Simon brings two plates with eggs and toast, handing one to Johnny before placing the other on the table by your knee. “We should have a bit of a lie in on the couch, easy day. Bun’s still on leave of absence, and you’re not going anywhere.” He shoots Johnny a pointed look, who holds his hand up as if to say, who me?

“A lie in sounds grand.” He postures, grimacing with a shift. You instinctively try to move towards him, a hand on Pen to keep her in place, but Simon beats you to it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ jus’ my hip.”

“Let’s eat something and I’ll get your pain meds.” You nod encouragingly.

“Better to take them with something in your stomach.”

“Is it goin’ be like this all the time? Two nursemaids cluckin’ at me?”

“Probably.” You laugh, and Simon shakes his head.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Johnny murmurs, voice low. Penny is upstairs, asleep for her morning nap already, both guys settled back on the couch, a tangle of limbs. 

“No.” you whisper. Simon’s head turns, drawing his eye, but the exchange is fleeting.

“How’s your shoulder, bun?” Johnny murmurs, and you half shrug.

“Better. The steroid helped a lot.” The room is heady, and you’re cocooned in its warmth, blazing heat radiating from Simon trying to lull you into a nap like Pen’s.

“Ye can sleep, pretty girl.” Johnny smirks. His legs are thrown over the larger man’s thighs, one gingerly cushioned, the other, lackadaisical and bent.

“It’s so warm in here.” You offer as an explanation, and he agrees.

“Aye. Si’s a furnace.”

“You run pretty warm yourself.” Simon chides, but nods encouragingly at you.

“I need a shower.” It is tempting, to curl up on the couch between them, slip away into safe and comfortable dreamland but… not without a shower. You’re overdue.

“Okay. We’ll be here.”

There isn’t much in this world a shower can’t fix.

Or at least, that’s how this one feels. It’s scalding, so hot the room steams up within a minute, and you relax under the spray, letting it wash over the soreness in your shoulder, cascade down your back.

You linger in it, soaking up the quiet moment, raising your face to the water over and over, letting it rinse you clean.

By the time you get out, you almost feel like a brand-new person.

If only… 

“How was yer shower?”

“Good.” He tries to fidget on the couch, rocking back and forth to make room for you. “Don’t Johnny, you’ll hurt-“

“I’m fine.” He grunts. “I’m still me, ye know. I know ye didnae know me, before, but I dinnae need help wit’ everything.” Your heart cracks.

“I know you don’t.” You think back to your vulnerable patient, the one who cried about being separated from his family, and how far he’s come. It fills you with pride, and something so foreign, so strange, you don’t even recognize. A massive swell of affection, of care. “I’m just… programmed, you know?” You try to soothe him, and he grumbles until you’re slipping into his side, turning to press your face in his chest.

“Sorry, bun. Didnae mean to get frustrated.”

“I know, Johnny.”

The baby monitor crackles.

Johnny shifts restlessly.

“What is it?” you murmur, and he huffs.

“I want to get her. Hate feelin’ useless to my own daughter.” You could…

“Do you… do you want me to grab her? Bring her down here for you?” His eyes light up.

“Would ye? Si’s just in the kitchen, dealing with some laundry. If ye could-“

“Yeah, I got her.”

“Ye’re sure? Yer shoulder…”

“It’s fine, promise.” He holds your jaw briefly, tongue dashing out to lick his lips, and then he kisses you, wet and messy, breathlessly.

“Thanks, bun.”

Penny’s room is dark. You’ve seen it in passing, but never really been inside, and when you flick on the light, she’s already standing in her crib, little face wet with tears.

‘Shhh, it’s alright!” You’re not sure she will calm for you since you’re not one of her dads. You’re practically a stranger in her life, but she reaches for you anyway, arms stretched out, hands grabbing in mid air. “Okay, okay, here we go.” You support her weight with your good arm, tucking her up on your waist, setting her easily on your hip.

At least they’re good for something. 

“There we go. Ready to go downstairs, see Da? Yeah?” You babble, surprised to feel her nappy still dry, and she tilts her head back, pretty eyes and gob smacked expression locked onto you.

Fuck. 

“Hi, baby girl.” You whisper, backs of two fingers gentle on her cheek. “You really do look like your dad, don’t you?” Something springs a leak, cracks slivering wide, a failsafe crumbling in your chest. It stops working, stops processing, because tears are suddenly flooding your eyes, making it hard to see.

Penny coos. You try to take a deep breath.

Get it together. You’re holding their baby. 

Deep breath. 

Pain long buried and forgotten clangs on the rusty iron encasing your heart. It bangs against it, pleads to get out.

For a second, it steals your breath. Almost forces a sob from your throat. Raw edged agony beats wildly through your veins, sharp and acidic, poisoning you from the inside out.

You shove it back where it came from.

You need some air. You need some space, some distance... something that will lessen this feeling, this despair. 

“Alright,” you croak. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

“Where’s…”

“She went up to get Penny.” Simon nods, thumb slipping the monitor’s volume crank higher, head cocked.

“Hi baby girl… you really do look like your dad, don’t you?” He glances at Johnny, who shrugs sheepishly.

“I let it slip.”

“Did you explain everything?”

“Mostly. Didnae want her to think we were together or anything like that.” Simon nods, satisfied, and Johnny’s toes curl a little. He loves seeing that expression on his face, the proud one, the nearly smug one, and he’d do anything for it, again and again. Johnny tilts his chin for a kiss and he obliges, deep and slow, gentle hand on his chest. “You were so good for us earlier. How’re you feeling? Anything sore?” The blood rushes back to Johnny’s cock from the praise alone, and he blushes.

“I feel good.”

“Do ya?”

“Aye. Wanna play with our bunny s’more.” He grows hotter under his clothes, but Simon shakes his head.

“Don’t push it. We’ve talked about this. You have to let her set the pace.” He knows, and he tries, but after this morning, all he can think about is your hand on his cock, your mouth on his, the dazed, lust filled expression on your face as your hips rocked in time with your strokes.

He wants to show you everything they can give you; the way real love is supposed to feel. Not painful and terrifying. But beautiful, and limitless.

“She’s ready for more.” He protests.

“She’s not, Johnny.” He’s using that tone, the one Johnny knows not to argue with, so he concedes.

After all, he doesn’t really want to push you. He wants you to trust them. Love them.

He wants you to feel safe and comfortable. He’ll wait as long as it takes.

“Alright,” your voice sounds heavy, broken. Simon’s head snaps up. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

Penny is dancing in your arms, clapping her hands together with some sort of sign you don’t seem to understand, babbling nonstop.

“Someone’s awake!” you declare, and Johnny holds his arm out, beckoning.

“There they are.” Simon ruffles his mohawk. You almost falter, stuttering in your stance, but your lips quirk into a tiny smile.

“She’s still dry.” You explain, placing her in his side. He wants to pull you down for another kiss, but Penny insists on one instead, open mouth seeking his nose like a bird.

“Ach, alright wee lamb, alright.”

“You okay?” Simon is cautious, trying not to encroach too much when you’re having a hard time, something he’s been instilling in Johnny too. Giving you space, giving you time.

“Bunny? Ye wit' us?” You’re in your head again, drifting. Here, but not really, and he tries to pull back towards them, to safety. To love.

“Yeah, I… uh. I have to run some errands.”

“Where?” Simon asks sharply, and Johnny tries to sit up.

“I have to go to the hospital, fill out some paperwork for leave, and I need to swing by apartment… get some clothes and stuff.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, no that’s alright. You guys hang out. I won’t be too long.” You look uncomfortable, twisting and turning, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Let me drive you, at least. I can’t stand you taking the train all over the city.” You laugh.

“I’ve grown up on trains and been fine, besides...” You motion to Johnny and Penny on the couch before your arms cross, sprinkle of defiance that has him casting a quick glance to see Simon’s jaw flexing. What choice do they have? 

“Alright. Well, text us to check in yeah?”

You’re gone for hours. Simon takes to pacing, and Johnny can’t soothe him, can’t hold him in the way he wants, can’t walk over and throw his arms around him the way he should be.

It hurts.

“What’s dad doing, hmm Penny? What’s he doing?” He coos, pointing to where his partner is checking his cellphone for the tenth time. She babbles something unintelligible back to him, chin tipped back, gazing in wonder.

Simon’s stress softens, hardness still lingering in worry lines, mouth taut. “‘M sorry.” He murmurs, settling on the couch opposite where Penny is sitting up against Johnny.

“It’s okay. I’m worried too.” He commiserates. It’s the same kind of agony in his heart, the same taste is his mouth, from when he was in hospital. Helplessly laid up and watching you work your way through whatever is chasing you. He clears the lump in his throat. “She’ll be back soon. Right? She wouldnae…” panic erupts in the bottom of his stomach. “She wouldnae just, leave.”

“We don’t know what she would do, love. She’s scared, and she’s smart, and we don’t know who she’s running from.”

“Maybe ye should’ve followed her.” He groans, and Simon gives him a look.

“Thought you didn’t want me doing that now?”

“I dinnae.” He chews on his lip. His abdomen is throbbing, and he reaches for Simon’s hand.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Simon soothes, rubbing a thumb over the back of his knuckles.

“Everythin’ would be easier if I wasnae like… like this.” He grits, frustration laden voice cracking. He’s a mess. A burden, can’t take care of his own family, help Si with Pen, or you. All he can do is lay here, and- 

“Shhh. Don’t say that.” Simon cradles the back of his head, mouth pressed against his forehead. “You’re alive, that’s all I care about. You came home.”

“Feel like I should be doin’ more.”

“The only thing-“ Penny grunts, and Simon plops a finger in her fist, letting her yank and tug on it. “The only thing you need to do is get better, focus on healing. I’m here for the rest, okay?”

“Okay.” He whispers, eyes heavy. The medications knock him out, but it’s better than before, when he was stuck inside dreams, bound to a bed.

“Get some rest, sweet boy. I’ll wake you when she’s back.” He’s already losing the battle, stupor dragging him back under, and bliss clouds his head as he begins to drift.

“‘Kay.”

[tokoumaru]

★ liyue boys' voicelines about you!

feat.childe, zhongli, xiao tags. headcanons, fluff, gender neutral reader, established relationships (for childe and zhongli) word count. 1.9k tw. mentions of fights on childe's part and light injuries on xiao's part.

synopsis. genshin impact boys and their in-game voicelines about you!

voicelines series. part 1: liyue, part 2: mondstat, part 3: inazuma, part 4: sumeru

childe/tartaglia

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

(Y/N)? You mean my assistant? Are they finishing up the paperwork I assigned them? Tell me comrade, what might they be doing on this fine day? It's been such a long time since I've last seen them! What do you mean you saw us together by the harbor just last night? Well, aren't you quite keen... To tell you the truth, they're one of my most formidable opponents. They're quite adept at the bow- not as adept as me of course. As for why we spend so much time together... heh, they just so happen to be a close ally of mine.

More About Tartaglia: Closest Companion (Friendship Lv. 5)

There isn't many you can trust while working in an organization like the Fatui, *sigh* especially when most your coworkers are cunning Harbingers. Aside from being my assistant, (Y/N) is one of the only few people I can trust wholeheartedly. They've accompanied me throughout the many battles I've fought, and though they might not be as great of a warrior as me- a given, they're quite the entertaining sparring buddy... when they start getting serious, I can't help but feel a few tingles crawl my back when I see their malicious eyes directed at me.

More About Tartaglia: Childhood Friends (Friendship Lv. 6)

Morepesok was just a small village, everyone knew of each other and their grandparents... (Y/N) had been my only friend back then, before and after I ventured deep into the abyss. Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon just love them! Though, I have to admit I do get a bit jealous of my siblings when they steal their attention for quite awhile. Aside from my family, they may be the only good memories I have of that seaside town. Every spontaneous battle I win, every rash decision I make, they're somehow always there to make things better... the taste of victory could never feel better without them by my side. I'm truly thankful that they've stuck by me for so long... I'll protect them no matter what.

About You: Lovers (Friendship Lv. 10)

(Y/N)... my lover? You could tell from the sound of my voice when I was talking about them? Hah, was I too obvious? Well, It wasn't like I was trying to hide it from you, comrade. It's true, we've been lovers for quite awhile now, and I wouldn't have it any other way! They're quite the sweetheart, I'm sure I've told you about how they accompanied me throughout my entire life. Hmm... You don't get how they could stay with someone like me for so long? What exactly do you mean by that, comrade? Simply put, it's because they love me and I love them of course! And if they do happen to think of leaving… well, as if I'd let that happen. Comrade, one day I will conquer the world, and you'll see my dearest (Y/N) right beside me. If it just so happens that they aren't there to see it... I'll make it so that there won't be any world, person, or god left for anyone to conquer, and not even you can stop me.

zhongli/morax

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

There is a small flower shop of the highest quality residing in the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, there lies a quiet but passionate vendor that goes by the name (Y/N). Ever since I had surrendered my duties as the Geo Archon, they have helped me acclimatize to 'mortal' life greatly. Though I may have overseen Liyue's growth to prosperity from the very beginning, there are still some mortal nuances that are lost on a being as old as I am. I truly appreciate their presence and ever-lasting kindness for a newcomer such as I.

More About Zhongli: Favorite Places (Friendship Lv. 5)

I often spend my days at Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, working there as a Consultant for those departed. Although, in rare moments in which I am freed from my duties, you may also find me at Third-Round Knockout or Xinyue Kiosk enjoying a few Liyuen delicacies. Hmm? (Y/N)? The flower shop right next to Wanmin Restaurant? Ah, yes... perhaps I do spend a generous amount of my time there… Just how exactly do I spend so much hours in such a quaint flower shop, you ask? Well, there is only one possible thing one can do in a such a shop— that is to purchase flowers of the most beautiful kind. For who? ...It seems you're quite the curious individual, my friend.

More About Zhongli: The Past and the Future (Friendship Lv. 6)

Although I've resigned myself to 'mortal' life, the memories of acting as Liyue's longstanding Archon are ones that I can never bring myself to leave in dust. There is a flower shop on the outskirts of Liyue Harbour, I am sure you have seen me frequent the quiet place beforehand... May it be Violet grass, Qingxins, Silk flowers, or even rarities such as Glaze lilies, you may find it there. For someone who has lived as long as I have, each object- each flower- has become a reminder of times long ago. Whenever I visit the serenic shop, I cannot help but halt and reminisce about friends whose memories, both pleasant and unpleasant, only live in the flowers they used to love... Deciding to live as 'Zhongli', even if the task may pose to be quite difficult, I have promised to put these matters behind me, such as my contract dictates... Though, looking up from the nostalgic flowers to see (Y/N)'s auspicious smile never fails to remind me that, perhaps, there may still be more to discover for someone such as I, who has possibly witnessed everything there could be.

About You: Lovers (Friendship Lv. 10)

As the longstanding 'God of Contracts', there are many contracts that hold great importance to me. Though, in the centuries I've lived up until now, there is one that reigns above all. The contract with my dearest (Y/N) is one that I hold most close to my heart. What sort of contract, you ask? It is one where only the closest of partners can enact, in mortal terms you may call it 'matrimony'. For someone who has lived through a millennium, I was quite hesitant to proceed with this sort of contract, after all, it was a contract that requires one to dedicate a life's worth of time. However, once I saw (Y/N)'s optimistic eyes at the slightest mention, perhaps I already knew of their answer. Since then, there has not been even the slightest feeling of regret at my decision to dedicate my mortal life to them. Each moment I spend with my dearest is one I will treasure greatly. They listen to each of my long tangents about the history of Liyue with ease... It would provide great relief if I were to spend my last moments in this world by their side.

xiao/alatus

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

(Y/N)... It's hard not to know of a persistent mortal with such great tenacity. Unlike other mortals, they seem to lack a sense of danger and most especially, a sense of boundaries. Hmph... their irritating gesture of offering me a plate of Almond Tofu every night is not necessary for a Yaksha such as I, who does not need sustenance to live. They truly have no respect for the ways of the Adepti...

More About Xiao: The Ways of the Yaksha (Friendship Lv. 5)

As the last remaining Yaksha, it is my duty to conquer the demonic spirits that plague the outskirts of Liyue. This responsibility is one that I have been assigned to from the moment I had been saved by Rex Lapis. Though I've dealt with the subject of death for centuries, the karmic debt it brings me only weighs heavier on my shoulders... Yet, that tenacious mortal... (Y/N)... why is it that the weight of my debt disappears in the uncommon moments I speak to them? Tch... it doesn't matter. The karmic debt I’ve accumulated is my burden to carry. A mere mortal could never alleviate nor withstand it... especially not a fragile one such as (Y/N).

More About Xiao: Human Emotions (Friendship Lv. 6)

I'm far from human. I can't make much of human emotions... why does that mortal- (Y/N), go such great lengths to form a bond with me? I do not understand why they persistently come back to Wangshu Inn after I've deliberately ignored their advances... There was one night where their absence caused me a great amount of trouble. At the balcony of Wangshu Inn, the table in which they had often offered me their Almond Tofu was empty. At the same time, I had sensed a great deal of demonic energy at the mountains of Qingyun Peak. Tch... That fragile mortal was caught up in a losing fight between two Mitachurls. How could they be so stupid. I was about to leave once I had ascertained their safety, yet with such audacity did they grip my wrist just to simply give me a single Qingxin flower. How childish. The gesture was completely unnecessary, it was only burdensome. I cannot save them from danger each time they decide to offer me a measly item. This flower tied to my belt? Hmph. I... forget it.

More About Xiao: Human Emotions II (Friendship Lv.7)

(Y/N)... Why does their presence stir such a storm within me. Yakshas have no need for trifling pests such as emotion. I can't fathom why I… greatly desire their company. Hmph, I have no time for such distractions when the perpetual battle I face continues on... Yet, why does the weight on my shoulders only grow heavier when I continue to ignore their presence? Traveler, as you are the closest to mortals, tell me, what must one do to get rid of this burdensome feeling… I can't? What do you mean, I can't? You mean to tell me... the only way to rid of this emotion is to face (Y/N)? Tch. Impossible. A Yaksha who is burdened by a great weight of karmic debt could never sit next to a fragile mortal such as themselves. It is my duty to protect the citizens of Liyue, not bring death upon them caused by my karmic debt. Me? Worried? Ha. Do not judge adepti by your mortal ideals. I am only doing my duty as a protector of Liyue.

About You: Lovers/Companions (Friendship Lv.10)

The mortal concept of emotions- especially love, is something foreign to a Yaksha such as I, who has only known death. The night in which I asked you what I was feeling for (Y/N), Morax- or as he now goes by- Zhongli, had travelled to Wangshu Inn. He had come by just to inform me of his 'matrimony' with a mortal... it had stirred such confusion within me to see such a soft look on his face. Tell me, was that what I looked like when I spoke of (Y/N)? Before he left, Morax told me that it wouldn't hurt to indulge in mortal desires now that Liyue was capable of standing on its own... Although I am an inhumane Yaksha, the feelings that arose whenever I saw (Y/N) were too intense to dismiss... When they asked me to be their 'lover', there was nothing else I could do but agree. Do I regret it? Hmph. Adepti such as myself don't feel emotions akin to regret... perhaps they may feel emotions such as love, unfortunately.

a/n. tbh this was so hard to write... HELP it was very hard to try and make these voicelines actually sound like them! i had to actually use my brain for once... I TRULY APOLOGIZE IF IT WAS OOC (heavy on xiao)! HELP i think its obvious that xiaos my favourite... but it was also because I didn't know how to make him have a loverasdhjsds. also whenever I typed in the phrase about you I couldnt help but start singing the 1975's about you hehe

[charliemwrites]

what was the first time kept reader initiated some spicy time with keeper ghost like?

Wellllll I’m glad you asked -

(Smut below the cut)

You’d been dancing around the idea for awhile, flirting with the danger of it. Conflicted about actually following through but eventually thought “fuck it” and did.

You spent a week poking at his self control, his insistence that he would keep it chaste unless you wanted otherwise. That was what got you, in the end. Not “until” but “unless.”

Still, you’ve never quite forgotten how much bigger he is compared to you. Stronger, deadlier - even if you two playact otherwise. He could just DECIDE he’s done waiting for something that may never happen. It makes you nervous, makes you hesitate. Like stop-starting at the edge of a cliff before jumping off. Simon must notice something is up, he always does, but he doesn’t push.

It’s after dinner. You know he’ll be ushering you off to bed soon, insisting on keeping your schedule. The two of you are sharing the couch, you with your feet wedged under his thigh, keeping them warm. You’re allowing him to rest his hands on your calves.

A commercial break comes on and you think, “now,” before you can lose your nerve.

You clamber up and straddle his lap, hands planting on his shoulders. Simon stares, the barest lift to his eyebrows. His palms hover over you, a careful and respectful distance.

“This is new,” he observes, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What is it, little one?”

It takes you another moment to summon the words, muster the courage, gauge his expression and body language. He’s not expecting anything, just waiting patiently for you to do something, anything.

“I want you to eat me out,” you declare, face burning.

“Of course, pretty,” he says without missing a beat. “Can I get you settled, or do you want to do it?”

You tug at his sweatshirt. “Like this.”

You’re trying so hard not to shake you don’t think you could move if you wanted. And you definitely don’t want him to notice.

“Okay.” He skims his fingers along your arms, taps lightly at your wrist. Gentling you, acclimatizing you. “Have to let go so I can take care of you.”

You do, latching onto the back of the couch instead. He smiles, dares to drop a kiss on your head, then slowly shimmies down. You rise up on your knees to give him room, let him wedge his big body between your thighs.

The angle must be awful on his back, he’s half-kneeling on the ground and bent over backward so that you can keep the couch. He shushes you when you jump at his hands on your thighs, tracing the edges of your lounge shorts.

“Want these off?” he asks.

You can’t find your voice, so you shift your weight around, helping him get them off. You’re already wet, have been thinking about this most of the day and fantasizing for the last half hour. Most days you want to bite him for the way he handles you, but right now it’s the only thing keeping you together.

“Doing so well,” he soothes, “so brave.”

You huff, wiggle a bit. He chuckles and starts pressing kisses all over your thighs and hips, easing you into a position that gives him better access. He breathes against your pussy, still covered by your panties, rasps his tongue over the wet spot forming there.

“Need this, hm?” he asks.

“Gimme,” you reply, refusing to admit it.

You can feel him smirking when he kisses you again. But he gently tugs your panties down as well, mindful not to stretch or tear the pretty lace.

He doesn’t tease, doesn’t make you wait. You asked and you’re impatient, so he gives you exactly what you want. His tongue laps at your slit, gathering slick, massaging at your wet entrance. Then curls up, swirls around your clit. Sucks gently, makes obscene noises, doesn’t want to overwhelm.

You gasp and moan, instantly start rocking against his face, getting him right where you want him. He lets you ride his tongue however you like, only offers the support of his hands when he feels you shaking. It’s been a long, long time for you and he eats you out with all the precision and patience of the sniper that he is.

You don’t stand a chance.

You cum once within minutes, head thrown back and hips rocking, drawing it out. Nearly drowning him.

When you finally start to come down, you lift up a bit, let him breathe raggedly.

“Better, little one?” He asks, voice shredded, petting the back of your thigh.

You swallow the saliva that’s pooled on your own tongue, gathering yourself. “Again.”

“Yeah? Fingers this time too?”

“Yeah.” You hesitate, glance at his big hand on your thigh. “Only two.”

“Okay, pretty, only two.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

SAUNA SESSION

A/N: im not saying i wanted this to happen to me on my wellness weekend last week... but i did. so i wrote it for you and for myself.

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: All you wanted was some relaxing time alone in the nude sauna cabin, but that one mysterious and ridiculously handsome man had to be there at the same time as you. Things get hot, but not just because of the sauna.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Theoretically it was a good idea. Coming down to the wellness area of the hotel after dinner when everyone is already gone so you can use the nude sauna alone, without having a freaky old man staring at your boobs and bare pussy. 

And as you walk past the pool that’s now perfectly still, you truly think there will be no one in the back. There’s a pep in your step as you fic your robe, smiling to yourself before turning the corner and reaching the saunas, but it vanishes from your face when you see a robe on the hanger next to the cabin and a moment later the restroom’s door opens and the man walks out who has been occupying your thoughts for the past two days.

You first saw him when you checked in. He strode across the lobby with so much elegance and grace, you couldn’t get yourself to look away and stop staring. He was on the phone and his eyes fell on you for a split second before he walked out of the building.

You swear that one glance was the single most sexual thing that has ever happened to you. There was this aura that was around him at all times, dominance and passion oozes from every inch of his tall, muscular body. Since then you’ve seen him a handful of times, at dinner or breakfast, sitting at the bar when you were leaving. Every time his eyes found you, as if he was looking for you and when they found you… it took everything in you not to drop to your knees. You know nothing about him, but he appears to be a man in power, not quite your type, but there’s just something about him that’s different, that draws you in every time you lay your eyes on him.

You’re ashamed to admit that you even had a wet dream about him. A man whose name you don’t even know. 

This man is now looking at you in only his swimming trunks, his bare chest a view you’ll never forget as long as you live. You’ve only seen him in button-ups and suits, they hid the many tattoos littering his fine body and you fight the urge to trace them all with not just your fingers but your tongue as well.

For a moment he seems surprised to see you, but then a tiny smirk tugs on the corners of his mouth.

“Some late night sweating?” he asks and it’s the first time you hear his smooth voice, it’s sweet like honey.

Your throat has gone dry, so you can only nod as you fumble with the belt of your robe that’s covering your bikini clad body. You snap your eyes away from him as you step to the hangers and slowly peel yourself out of the robe, all while feeling his burning gaze on your body.

When you turn around, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s been staring at you. The raw hunger in his eyes has your blood boiling and you’re glad you put your black bikini on, because wetness is rapidly pooling between your legs.

He opens the darkened glass door of the cabin and holds it open for you.

“After you,” he winks and you almost forget grabbing a towel as you walk into the steamed up cabin.

You’re quick to climb up to the top benches, laying your towel down before sitting on it, acclimatizing to the sudden hotness. 

The man opts to sit across you on the middle bench, close to the rocks, he shoots you a questioning look at you and when you nod he pours some water on the rocks, increasing the humidity of the cabin. It takes only a minute for you to start sweating.

You’ve completely forgotten about the fact that it’s the nude cabin, but when you see him stand up and untie his shorts, your lips part for a moment.

“You don’t mind?” he asks, hooking a finger into the elastic, giving it a gentle tug, teasing the V-line that dips under the band.

“N-no. It’s the nude cabin,” you manage to say before clearing your throat.

He nods and then pushes the shorts down so easily, as if you weren’t just a stranger only a few feet away from him.

He’s huge. And already halfway hard.

You need to swallow as he places the shorts onto the bench and sits on his towel, a smug smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glued to you from across the cabin.

But you can’t get yourself to avoid looking at him for long, your gaze returns to his form and you steal short looks at his crotch.

“Feel free to undress,” he adds smugly and you know it’s a challenge. 

Normally you’d be too prude to do it, getting naked in front of strangers is not quite your thing, but the fire inside you is making you do crazy things. So when you reach behind your back to untie your top, you make sure to keep your eyes fixed on him. 

You pull it over your head, not caring to untie the strings behind your neck and then drop the top beside you, catching his eyes wandering down your chest. The rush of confidence that takes over you is surprising, but you’re determined to live off it in the moment. You lazily pull your legs up and roll to your stomach, holding yourself up on your elbows so he still has a clear view of your breasts as you try to pretend like you’re just lounging in the cabin without a care. 

“I’m Harry, by the way. I’ve seen you around the hotel a few times.”

The way he strikes up a conversation while he’s completely naked, his hardening dick between his juicy looking thighs is maddening, but you want to play along and see where it will go.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure. I like to take some time for myself this time of the year.”

“Sounds nice.”

The conversation ends here, but the staring match has just begun. As the minutes pass by and your skin is fully coated in sweat, the intensity of the way you look at each other gets progressively shameless. Breathing is starting to appear to be a hard task and not just because of the hotness of the cabin. Every time you take a deep breath to fill your trembling lungs you catch his eyes wandering to your expanding chest and when you turn to lie on your back he barely even looks anywhere else than your breasts or face.

All while his cock gets harder, proudly saluting between those strong thighs.

It’s so insane, you can barely think straight and you have no idea where this will head, the tension, the hunger, the unspoken dirty thoughts that keep racing in your mind are driving you over the edge. And then the breaking point happens.

You’re looking straight into his eyes when his hand, with a swift and confident movement, grabs the base of his cock, giving himself a hard tug. A moan slips from your mouth and you know it’s game over. 

Without an ounce of hesitation you reach down and push the bottom of your bikini down, wiggling your hips to get the fabric off and you drop it to the side, baring yourself fully to him. When you turn your head to see his reaction you see some pain on his handsome face, one that roots in an insufferable passion, you catch him running his finger across his lips while his hands start to work steadily on his erection. 

“Fuck.” The word slips out of your mouth as just a whisper, but he catches it with ease. Your hands start to move on their own as you cup your breasts, your palm slipping easily on your sweaty skin, your nipples poke against your touch, in desperate need of a pair of foreign hands to handle them, but it’s only you for now. 

Your core is dripping wet, both from your arousal and sweat, your clit throbbing for even just a touch, so you don’t torture yourself and move a hand down between your legs and start playing with it.

“Start slow,” Harry speaks up, breaking the silence and when you look at him you’re met with a pool of dominance in his eyes. It forces you to obey, not that it even occurs to you to go against him in this moment. 

You place two fingers on your clit and start to move them in circles, slowly, but with quite some pressure, your lips part and you struggle to breathe under these conditions, but you won’t stop. Harry starts jerking himself off faster and his hips sometimes buckle up into his grip, making you wish it was your mouth or cunt around his cock instead of his hand. 

“Now go faster,” he tells you as if he was giving you permission to do it. 

You obey at first, but when you hear a grunt roll out of his throat, you gain confidence and yearn to have more control. 

Sitting up you put your feet to the bench under you and spread your legs, giving him a clear view of your glistening pussy as you run your fingers up and down, smearing your arousal over it while you watch him fall apart. His eyes darken and his bicep flexes as he goes faster and harder than before, even his toes curl when he watches as you push two fingers inside you, moaning with no shame. Your free hand moves up your stomach until it reaches your breast and you grope it imagining that he is touching you. 

“Fuck, I’m–” he starts, but then you hear a door slumming shut somewhere outside and you jump up right away, your heart hammering in your chest from the fear of getting caught. You check the time outside through the door of the cabin and realize how long you’ve been in here. The fog clears a bit from your mind and you remember that this man is a stranger and he just watched you pleasure yourself while jerking himself off.

“I have to go,” you breathe out and grab your bikini and towel so fast, he doesn’t even process your movements, only when you’re slipping out of the cabin.

You want to go straight to your room, but you’re so sweaty that you just need to shower it all off with some cold water, so you move to the area where two showerheads are installed on the ceiling and start the water in desperate need of cooling your body down in every sense. 

What has gotten into you? You have never let your desires take control over you like it happened just moments ago, you totally lost your cool and all because of a hot guy you met barely twenty minutes ago. You shouldn’t have played along, it should have never…

But it felt so good! He ignited things in you no one has ever and that scares and excites you at the same time.

The sauna door opens and Harry rushes out holding his swimming shorts in front of his crotch, but when he sees that it’s still just you he drops it to the floor as he walks up to you.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped a line, but I just couldn’t stop myself, I’ve been seeing you around for days and you completely–”

He doesn’t get to finish his apology that sounds genuine, because you smash your lips against his despite the remorse you’ve dealt with the last couple of moments. 

You grab his face desperately, pushing your naked body against him, his erection wedged against your stomach and the feel of it makes you throb for him. He’s quick to react, one hand coming to the back of your head, fingers tangling into your wet hair while his other grabs you by the hip to pull you closer, even though not even a piece of paper could fit between your sweaty and wet bodies. 

Cold water rains down on the two of you, yet your whole body feels like it’s on fire. Even though you initiated the kiss he has taken over control fully, his mouth devouring yours with so much force and passion, you’re seeing stars. He pushes forward, making you walk back until your shoulder blades meet the cold wall of the shower. He bites into your bottom lip, tugging on it hard before his mouth moves to your jawline and neck, some his kisses turn into bites as he tastes you, sweat and water mixing on his tongue as his hands grab onto the back of your thigh and he urges you to lift your legs. He holds you up with ease, your legs wrap around his waist and the position brings the tip of his cock to your clit, nudging it as he thrusts his hips forward to keep teasing you.

“I want to fuck you, Y/N. Right now,” he grunts against your collarbone before licking up the column of your throat.

“Do it!” you exhale desperately. “Please, do it!”

“You won’t freak out on me?” he asks and you notice the hesitation behind his words, how he doesn’t want to make you do something you don’t feel comfortable with.

“No, I promise,” you answer, your words dying into a whisper as your chest heaves against his and you move your hips to feel more friction, but you feel so painfully empty without him. “Please!”

“Begging looks great on you, baby,” he smirks before occupying your lips with his mouth again while he reaches down and grabs his cock by the base, dragging the tip back and forth between your folds, making sure to pay extra attention to your clit when he’s at the front.

“Protection? I promise you I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too and I’m on the pill,” you nod eagerly and the thought that you’re about to feel him raw already makes you clench.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” is all he says before he pushes into you so hard and fast, the air gets knocked out of your lungs in an instant. 

He only gives you a few seconds to adjust to his length and girth, he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, he starts moving without warning and he doesn’t start off soft. He goes fast and hard, pushing his whole length inside you every time he thrusts forward and you swear for a second you’re afraid you might pass out, but you don’t want him to stop either. You hold onto his strong shoulders while trying your best to keep your legs wrapped around his waist, though they start to turn into jello.

“Oh fuck!” you almost scream when he manages to push even deeper inside you and one of his hands is quick to snap over your mouth.

“Shh, we don’t want anyone to hear us,” he lets out an airy chuckle and when he pulls his hand back he kisses you before burying his face into your neck.

He’s going at an insane pace, stretching you out so well, your walls grip his cock as if it was made for you. From time to time he whispers against your neck or lips.

“You feel so fucking good.”

“Yes baby, you like that, huh?”

“Love the way I’m fucking you?”

You can only mumble an answer, that is if you even find the ability to talk, because he is fucking your basic skills out of you. 

“I want to feel your pretty cunt coming all over my cock, Y/N. Now. We don’t have much time, someone might come in soon,” he urges you.

“I want… Can I…” The words die on your tongue every time you try to tell him what you want.

“What do you want, Beautiful?” he asks, noticeably slowing his movements down so you can find your voice again.

“I want to ride you so badly,” you whine and he is quick to act and please you.

Holding with secure arms, he pulls you away from the wall and walks back to the sauna cabin so he can sit down. The hot air fills your lungs and you want to protest against it, but when you ease down on his cock you forget about everything that’s not perfect.

Like how you start sweating again or how hard the wooden bench feels under your knees and shin. It’s all nothing when you start grinding against him, getting what you wanted.

“Come on my cock, baby. Use it as you want.”

You hold onto his shoulders, head rolling back as his palms find your breasts, giving them the attention they needed all along. Then he wraps his arms around your torso and replaces his hands with his lips, licking and sucking on your nipples, sending shockwaves through your body.

“Harry, I’m gonna come!” you cry out and maybe even a tear rolls down your cheek too, but it could easily be sweat as well.

“Give it to me, baby! Come for me!”

He leans back and holds onto your hips before he starts thrusting up into you, your movements come to a halt and you can’t hold it together any longer. Gripping his shoulders you come harder than ever, your orgasm washing over your body in waves and it feels like it will never stop. 

Then Harry’s hips fall out of rhythm and he stops for a few moments every time he thrusts into you as he comes with just as much intensity. Feeling him come inside you might trigger another orgasm in you, or it’s the first one that’s still lasting, you have no idea. 

Slowly, his movements stop, but he remains buried deep inside you as you both try to catch your breath, but it’s hard in the hotness of the cabin. Harry must feel the same way, so he wraps you in his arms and stands from the bench, exiting the sauna before he returns under the running water in the shower. 

“I’m gonna put you down, can you stand?” he softly asks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You nod, but you might have overestimated your strength, because as he lets you down to your feet gently, your knees buckle underneath your weight. “Easy, I got you,” he hums, grabbing you by your waist before you could facepalm the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” you breathe out as you finally stand up straight.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

You shower lazily, both of you taking your time, Harry keeps touching you under the stream, keeping physical contact with you at all times. He even wraps you in your robe when you’re finished.

“If it’s not too late… Do you want to have a drink with me at the bar?” he asks with a shy, but charming smile when he has put his swimming shorts back on, his robe hanging untied over his frame.

“I would need some time to recover,” you admit with a chuckle and it brings a smirk to his face.

“Alright, maybe next time.”

“Or… you could come over to my room and we can have that drink there,” you offer, his face lighting up right away.

“That sounds fantastic. Lead the way.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[magicaldragons]

love (ˈləv) noun.

varadeva.

Deva is not your typical tortured protagonist.

Normally, characters that are acclimatized to violence have become that way because of circumstances throughout their life, or due to traumatic experiences.

but Deva?

Deva was born with these tendencies. He wasn't molded by life into the violent being that he is now – he has always been that way. Violence was his first and most natural way of responding to any emotion that was too overwhelming for him.

• it must have been hard initially for Deva, growing up with no one to understand the way he worked intrinsically.

Deva, in his most natural state, is violence personified, but his mother isn't able to accept this aspect of his personality.

She detests it, in fact – and it's just gotten worse, especially now that she has witnessed in some way, the extent that Deva can go for varadha people things he feels strongly about.

She refuses to watch him fight, and cannot bear to see him associated with violence in any way, shape, or form.

In short, she cannot accept him.

While Deva's mom needs eyes on him at all times though,

Varadha trusts him to do what is right.

and this is Varadha's love for Deva:

this is what Varadha brings to the relationship; and it's so easy to overlook because it's something Varadha does so well.

He accepts Deva exactly the way he is.

and the fact that, throughout the movie, you never see a direct expression of Varada's love towards Deva, just proves that it never leaves in the first place – Varadha's love for Deva is persistent and unyielding.

Varadha has embraced Deva's 'big emotions' since they were children, and the comfort this has fostered is so embedded within Deva that it's probably the only reason Deva can live with himself right now, especially with his mom convincing him he is a monster at every possible chance.

Deva's love for Varadha, on the other hand, is very obvious, because again: his emotions manifest very tangibly

Deva knows what Varadha needs the most – he truly sees Varadha's insecurities and inherent complexity.

Underneath Varadha's composure, restraint, and calm confidence, is a boy who is terrified of the future. of his father. for his brother.

Varadha sometimes says the opposite of what he feels in an effort to protect himself from vulnerability, but Deva has learnt to read him. Varadha doesn’t make his motives clear often, but Deva trusts him to reveal things in time. He never pressures Varadha for information, or questions him.

• It even goes against every cell in Varadha's body to request protection and demand love, especially after the kind of treatment he's faced from those that should have been expected to show him love.

and Deva understands this, and is there to protect and love Varadha, without a second thought.

It's a very mutual relationship, between two people who are there for each other exactly how the other needs them, and the fact that they never had to try to fit each other, just shows how much they're made for each other.

— love, a definition: part three [part one / part two]

[theharddeck]

i know you want it, do-si-don’tcha (hangman x reader)

Pairing: hangman x reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: hangman and his girlfriend walk home in the rain after a night at a dance hall, and warm up back at the airbnb.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), bit of a praise kink (it’s Jake; you’ve got to), daddy kink if you squint (it’s Jake, you’ve GOT to), overstimulation, swearing for sure, lmk if I need to add anything else

Length: 5.8k

Title is from this song by Tanner Adell, and images are edited from Pinterest

On paper they seemed nice—refreshing! The land needs it! At least it’s warm out!—but when you and Jake pushed open the barn doors at the Broken Spoke at just after midnight to sheets of pouring rain, you would have to dissent.

Walking to the dance hall had seemed like a good idea when you and Jake left the airbnb some five hours ago. It wasn’t far, and parking was going to be a mess, and you were both in boots anyways—Jake in the ones he’d gotten for graduating college, you in the ones he’d gotten you just before the trip.

Walking to the dance hall had seemed like a good idea when you and Jake left the airbnb some five hours ago. It wasn’t far, and parking was going to be a mess, and you were both in boots anyways—Jake in the ones he’d gotten for graduating college, you in the ones he’d gotten you just before the trip.

The light brown leather was soft and they fit too perfectly for them to be off the shelf, but the fact that they didn’t have to be broken in meant you didn’t push Jake too heavily for details. You were grateful for that now, as you stood in front of streaming rain, wondering if the gorgeous leather was going to survive the night.

“We could call an uber?” you suggested, having to shout to be heard over the downpour.

“In downtown Austin, at midnight?” Jake called back, and when you looked over at him, his eyes were sparkling with laughter. You could see him trying to hold it in, knowing your aversion to rain, but he looked like he wanted to burst out laughing.

“We’re walking back in this, aren’t we?” you sighed, and Jake pulled you into his side, letting out his laugh.

“Afraid so, sweetheart,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and your arm curled around his waist reflexively.

You held out your hand from under the awning and the rain hit it with such force that it actually splashed back onto you. It was a warm night, late summer in Texas still pushing 80 degrees even though the sun had gone down hours ago, and the rain felt slightly cooling.

It could be worse.

You’d left your phones back at the airbnb, and it was just water.

You tilted your head to look up at Jake. His eyes were slightly squinted at the splash of water, a sheen of sweat from line dancing still on his skin. His five o’clock shadow was always more pronounced on the second day, and so tonight you could just see the beginnings of stubble across his jaw.

He really was too handsome to be real, especially when he looked down at you, his green eyes intense as always. His head tilted a little, like he hadn’t expected you to be looking back at him, and you smiled reassuringly, squeezing his waist.

“Okay,” you said, blowing out a long breath. “Let’s do it.”

Jake tightened his arm around you, before his hand fell from your shoulder, across your back, to hold the hand closest to him.

“Let’s do it,” he repeated, and the two of you stepped out from under the awning.

You couldn’t stop the squeal when the rain washed over you, absolutely unrelenting. It was cooler than you’d expected, sharp and hard, and it shot new energy through your veins. Jake seemed to reacting similarly, jumping back and forth to acclimatize himself to the water as his clothes soaked through. Water streamed off the brim of his hat, down over the black button down he was wearing, plastering it to his body.

You knew you looked a fool, drenched like a wet dog in the rain, just staring at your boyfriend, but he looked like a music video from the early aughts. Broad shouldered, white teeth, flashing grin as the water splashed off of him. His dark jeans stretched over thick thighs that could make you salivate on any given day, but now had water running down them, denim tight like a second skin. Jake kicked at a puddle, boots sending up a spray of water and as he laughed at the cascade in the streetlight, you felt your heart swell.

His unbridled joy was a beautiful thing, especially for its rarity. When he was on duty, he bore responsibility heavily, masking it under overconfidence and driving jibes. But this Jake—the one who laughed when he was soaked to the bone, unbothered by rain in the middle of a parking lot in Texas—this one was special to get to see.

He turned back to you, and you smiled softly at him, lashes heavy from the rain.

Jake pulled the hand he still held to draw you to him; you fit easily under his arm as the two of you started walking. Your arm around his waist, his over your shoulder, and you skipped a step to matched your pace to his.

Left - right - left - right, steel-tipped toes through puddles of rainwater.

A moment later, you felt something warm on your forehead as Jake settled his hat on your head. It sat low on you, resting on your ears rather than your temples, but it stopped the rain from falling into your eyes, and when you looked up at Jake, he was running a hand through his hair to fix it. His hair was getting long, flipping over the crown of his head, and the ends curling up almost to his shoulders.

Jake’s eyes narrowed to protect them from the rain, and water ran unprotected down his face. Your heart flipped at the little gesture, unprovoked and unexpected, but entirely natural to Jake, to look after you like that.

Thoroughly soaked, you didn’t hurry as you walked back. You were both drenched, so there was no point in running, and the night was warm enough that you didn’t worry about the chill.

A couple cars slowed as they drove by, trying not to splash you both, and you were content to walk in silence. There wasn’t much to say, and your arms around each other seemed a pretty perfect cap on the evening.

One truck honked as it drove by and you felt Jake look at you before cursing quietly under his breath. A moment later, his arm fell from around you and he started unbuttoning his shirt; you looked down and understood why.

Your yellow sundress had been opaque in the evening light when you’d left the airbnb, but soaked through, it was nearly transparent. The skirt was the perfect twirling length, falling to just above your knees, and the thick straps were wide enough to hide your bra straps, but the rain pressed it against your skin, and the red of your bra was clearly visible, as well as the black line of your panties.

“Jake, it’s fine—” you started, when you noticed he was glaring after the truck, unbuttoning the wet fabric with less finesse than normal.

“Not a word,” he said, looking sharply at you.

You closed your mouth.

He pulled off the button down, peeling it off his shoulders and wrapping it around you like a cloak. It wasn’t so oversized that it swallowed you, but he hung it stubbornly over your shoulders, buttoning it deliberately. It was too wet to feed your arms through it, and so it ended up like a cloak or a straightjacket, but Jake’s expression harbored no room for discussion. His brow was furrowed in concentration, jaw tight, and when he finished, you went up on your toes to kiss him before he stepped away.

His lips were warm, rain water coasting down his cheeks, and you felt him relax slightly as your mouth brushed against his.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he grunted. You raised your eyebrows, still extended on your toes, weaving slightly till his hands came up to steady you while you waited.

“Welcome,” he said, begrudgingly. You could tell he didn’t like the idea of other people being able to see you exposed like that, just as he knew you didn’t want him to go all territorial about it. Sometimes it was hot, sometimes it was something that rubbed you wrong, because he had to know he was all yours. You could be stark naked on the street, and the only eyes you’d care were on you would be his.

You smiled, kissing him again quickly, then settled back into your boots.

“Besides,” you said, starting to walk again and gesturing at his chest, “pretty sure this is a more graphic image than what I was rocking.”

Jake looked down at himself, at the white undershirt that was absolutely translucent against his tanned skin. You could see the texture of his chest hair, the darkness of his nipples, the contours of his abs, looking like he was an Amercrombie model. Jake shrugged, unphased by his body being on display, and reached down to where your fingers peeked out from the confines of his shirt to tangle your hands together.

You walked on together.

The shirt wrapped around you was still warm from his body, and the contrast stoked something inside of you. He’d been so patient all night, guiding you through the foreign dances, never minding when you stumbled over his boots. He’d twirled you in his strong arms, made you feel light and beautiful, and reminded you how good it was to be on his arm.

To be his.

You turned down the street of your airbnb, and Jake dug around in his pocket for the key. He never let go of your hand, and that light contact had your body humming for more.

Jake got the door open, flipping on a tabletop light and propped it open with his hip as he reaching back into the rain for you.

A shiver worked over your skin as the water flowed over his skin, the sharp lines of his jaw, shoulders, arms, and Jake’s eyes clouded with concern as he noticed the tremor, and he pulled you quickly into the house.

“Baby,” he said quietly, voice chastising and caring at once, “why didn’t you say you were cold?”

He closed the door behind you, his long fingers undoing the buttons of the shirt he’d put around your shoulders. Absently, you knew you should help him, but he didn’t seem to mind, so you stood in a dripping pile in the mudroom as he reached the end of the column, and pushed the garment off your shoulders. It fell with a splat to the tile, and your newly exposed skin prickled with awareness.

Jake made a sound in the back of his throat like concern, and his hands skimmed down your shoulders from where he’d pushed the button down off you, finding the zipper of your dress under your arm. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he undid the zipper slowly, and another shiver worked over your skin.

You could feel warmth radiating off of him, through the translucent white of his undershirt, through the stretched denim of his jeans. You leaned slightly towards him as the material of your dress slackened as the zipper came undone.

“Jake—” you started, but he shushed you as he guided the straps down your shoulders. The dress pooled on the floor around your boots, his motions slow and gentle, his touch warm.

Jake stilled at the sight, and you felt his gaze travel up your body, his hands coming to your waist.

“Ah, sweetheart,” he sighed, and his thumbs smoothed over the skin of your stomach as his perusal fluttered beneath your skin. You watched desire flash in his eyes, his jaw clench at the sight of you, but then determination to care for you chased it away.

You whispered his name again, as your hands drifted over the thin cotton of his shirt.

“I know, baby, I’m hurrying,” he said, misunderstanding. Jake leaned into your touch as your hands smoothed over his shirt to his shoulders, but he turned his head when you rose up to kiss him. Undeterred, you pressed your lips against his cheek, his jaw, trailing down to his neck.

You loved the way his stubble prickled under your tongue, rough texture where there was usually smooth, and the rain water tasted sweet on his skin.

“You’re shaking, angel,” he muttered, voice strained as your tongue skated along his jaw. “Come on, stop that, let me take care of you.”

You shivered again, biting back a whimper as your mind ran through the many ways in which he could take care of you. Jake read your shiver as emphasis that he needed to work faster, and his hands tightened on your waist, holding you steady as he pushed away from you. You could see his eyes dilated from desire, but he still knelt in front of you, lifting one of your feet to pull off the boot. Your hands rested on his shoulder, fisting the thin cotton there as you leaned back against the door for balance.

His skin was warm like a furnace, and you wanted to curl up into his chest, warm your body with his.

“Jake, please—” you tried again, and the look he shot up at you as he pulled off your boot was frustrated.

“I know, sweetheart, let me just get these off of you, then I’ll get a blanket—“

“Jake,” you interrupted, “it’s not the cold.”

He stopped at your words, eyes flitting up to yours in confusion, before falling over your body. The goosebumps over your skin, the slight shivers, the uneven breathing—you watched it dawn on him that this was your reaction to him, not the rain.

He sat back on his thighs, looking up at you. His eyes were dark, his jaw loose, and he finished pulling off your other boot.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, baby?” he asked, the slightest reprimand in his voice. His hands trailed up your legs as he leaned forward, not breaking eye contact, to press a kiss against your stomach, “You know I would’ve been on my knees way sooner for you.”

You whimpered, you couldn’t help it, and you saw his eyes darken.

“Tried to tell you,” you whispered, as his hands skimmed over your skin. His touch felt like sparks as he reached your underwear, fingers teasing along the edge of it.

“My pretty, needy girl,” he murmured, his fingers dipping under the hem as he started to pull them down your thighs. “Am I gonna find you wet under here, sweetheart?”

You squirmed as the material dragged across your skin, and then Jake exhaled slowly as you were bared to him.

“Angel,” he groaned, looking up at you, and before you could ask what, he ran a finger through your folds. Your body jerked at the contact, hand fisting his tshirt and your eyes falling closed. Jake pulled his hand away and you heard him hum as he brought his finger to his mouth, tasting you.

“What was it that got you this ready, baby?” he asked, voice low, as he returned his hand. He ran his finger through you, feeling, teasing, pulling through the wetness there and reveling in it. “Was it the dancing? Knowing every man in that hall was jealous of whose arm you were on? Was it those assholes in the truck, getting a glimpse of my girl—“

“You, Jake,” you interrupted, your hips chasing after his hand, knowing it was what he wanted to hear, knowing it was true. It wasn’t dancing, it was being in his arms; it wasn’t being exposed, it was him covering you. “Only you, baby.”

“Damn straight,” Jake muttered darkly, and his hand dropped as he leaned forward to bury his face in your cunt.

Your head hit the door as your back arched when his tongue speared into you. Jake’s hands gripped the back of your thighs, spreading you, and his mouth worked over you. Normally he’d tease you with kisses, brush his lips around your inner thighs and wait until you begged before he met your desperate need, but tonight you felt the urgency in his mouth, the possession.

He licked you hungrily, tongue flat and broad, before he worked his way up to your clit. When he stroked over the tight bundle of nerves you felt your legs weaken, leaning back against the door heavily, and Jake hummed against you. The vibration felt heavenly, but it was him, it was knowing he knew how good he was making you feel, that sent another rush of arousal through you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake mumbled against you as he lapped at you.

“Feels so good, baby,” you told him, and you let go of his shirt to reach up for his head. You brushed your hand over his forehead into his hair; his eyes fluttered as your nails scratched into his scalp and tangled your fingers into his hair.

Jake let go of one of your thighs to reach between your legs, his hand stroking between your folds as his mouth returned to your clit. His lips closed over you, his tongue circling, tasting, and he pressed a finger at your entrance.

His broad, calloused finger felt so damn good, pushing steadily and your hips canted forward.

“Shit, baby,” Jake whispered. “Look at you, pulling me in like this.”

You felt shameless, your body wanting more and more and more of him, and when you looked down to see your arousal glistening on his chin as he watched you, tightness coiled in your core.

“Jake, you look so good,” you had to tell him, your voice wrecked, and his eyes shot up to you. His eyes were blown wide and his chest puffed slightly at your words and he added another finger.

You moaned at the delicious stretch, at the look of wild pride on his face.

“You like how I look like this?” Jake asked, increasing the speed of his fingers, feeling your legs shaking. “You like how your man looks on his knees, how fucking gone he is for you, for your taste, for those little whimpers you’re making?”

His words curled over you and you nodded frantically, lost in sensation. Jake curled his fingers inside of you, knowing where you ached, and when his mouth returned to your clit, you gasped, pulling at his shirt. If he kept this up, you were going to come, and you didn’t want it to end yet.

He chuckled darkly but followed your pulling, rising up to stand in front of you. Taller than you again, and still in his boots, one of his hands rested on the door beside your head and the one that had been between your legs traced over your lips. You opened your mouth obediently, and Jake groaned when your tongue licked over his fingers, tasting how good he’d made you feel.

“Right back at you, darlin’,” he said. “I can’t think straight, not with you looking like this.”

He pulled his finger from your mouth, caging you back against the door, and he dipped his head to kiss along your jaw, down your neck. He found a spot that made you whine and when he sucked, your hips bucked forward; you both moaned when your heat met his thigh.

You ground against him, knowing you were making a mess, but the drag of wet denim against your core was nothing short of intoxicating. The rough friction, with the soft pull of Jake’s mouth at your neck, had you whimpering, and Jake’s hands dropped from the door to undo your bra. You vaguely registered it dropping to the floor, and the cool air on your skin before Jake’s big hands covered your breasts. His palms were warm, his fingers rough, and he squeezed as you rutted against him.

“Yeah, baby?” Jake pulled back slightly to ask, his panting breath on your neck. “You gonna get yourself off on my thigh?”

Shit, you probably could.

Just the thought of it sent another wave of arousal through you, and Jake groaned quietly as he felt the slide of you grow slicker against his jeans. He pushed his hips back into you slightly, and your hands scrambled to pull at his tshirt. You needed his skin, to feel him against you, and Jake released you so you could pull the thin cotton off of him.

His skin glowed golden in the dim light, tan and warm and your hands pushed over his chest, reveling in the feel of him. You could feel his breath stutter at your touch, and your hands turned downward.

“Baby,” Jake warned, as your fingers brushed through the hair below his navel.

“Baby,” you teased back, and then your breath caught when you felt him through his jeans. Jake’s hips bucked forward as you pressed your hand over his length. You could feel him, hard and hot, and you ground into his thigh, knowing how good he would stretch you, fill you.

Jake groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and his hands bracing on either side of the door as you worked over him.

“Tell me quick, darlin’,” he said through a clenched jaw. “You feel too good and you’re not even fucking touching me yet; if you want to come on something other than my cock, tell me now.”

You whimpered, his frank words only spurring you on. You reached up to undo his belt buckle, then got the zipper just low enough that you could slide your hand inside his boxers to feel him. You both moaned when your hand closed around him, hard and pulsing, the tip already leaking precum.

“That last,” you managed to say, “I want that, Jake, please—“

“Thank fuck,” Jake gritted, and he reached down to pull your hands from him, lifting them above your head. With one hand, he held your wrists against the door and with the other, he hastily jerked down his pants. Still soaked from the rain, they only made it halfway down his thighs, and Jake abandoned them to get back to touching you, running his fingers between your thighs again.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, and his brow furrowed slightly as he looked back up to check in with you. “Are you sure you’re ready for me, baby? We could—“

“I’m ready, please,” you breathed, your body canting away from the door. Normally you’d work up to taking his dick but tonight you wanted him now, bad enough to risk the immediate discomfort.

“Baby…” Jake started, but trailed off with a chuckle when he saw your determined glare. “Alright, alright.”

His hand drifted from between your legs to pump over his cock, working your wetness and his precum together, and you whimpered as he lined himself up to your entrance.

“Please, baby, please—“ you pleaded, and Jake slammed into you.

Fucking hell.

You knew he was big, you were reminded every time, but your body slacked against the door as he pushed himself into you. You wanted to push back, press your hips into him, but you were burning with the stretch and all your body could do was work to accommodate him.

“Sweetheart,” Jake soothed, letting go of your wrist to brush a hand across your forehead.

You squirmed, try to find an angle to alleviate the stretch and Jake choked when you worked farther onto him.

“Darlin’, you’re so tight, stretching so good for me…”

You felt drunk, you felt like you were floating above yourself, the only thing tethering you to this plane was the ache between your thighs and Jake’s voice. Your head rolled and Jake knocked the hat off your head, so his hand could rest between your and the door, cradling you.

“Talk to me, baby,” he said, and you opened your eyes to see his face so close to yours, watching you closely.

“You’re trying so hard not to say that you told me so,” you tried to laugh, but your voice was tight between pain and pleasure.

“I’m being pretty heroic right now, I think,” Jake chuckled, but you saw the tightness in his shoulders as he fought to keep still.

God, he was so good to you, checking in and holding himself off to make sure you were okay. It was a tight stretch, and it was uncomfortable in the moment, but his care was so sweet and you knew it’d be just that—a moment.

“I’d be mad if it wasn’t so damn good,” you whispered, and Jake’s hips jerked forward at your mild praise before he reigned himself in.

“Baby—” he warned, but you pulled your wrists from his hand to trace down his sides, feel his measured breath as he fought to keep from pushing into you harder.

“Thought you wanted to fuck me, Jake,” you pouted, and Jake groaned as his resolve crumbled.

“Alright, baby, hang on,” he gritted, and for anyone else it would’ve been the cheesiest line, but with Jake it was a warning.

He pulled out slow, the stretch heavy both ways, then pushed back into you, hard. The hand he had behind your head, protecting you from the door, held you in place as he shoved his cock up into you, and you cried out.

You felt so full, and then he pulled back only to push in deeper. He set a punishing rhythm, and your hands grappled for purchase, feeling his back flex under your fingers as he thrust up into you. Each stroke drove you against the wood door and you felt your skin dragging against the raw surface but it grounded you, something other than the pulsing fullness inside of you.

Jake lifted one of your legs to wrap around his waist and you moaned as it changed the angle. He pushed impossibly deeper into you, using your thigh for leverage, and ground against your clit at the top of his thrust. Jake’s breathing had gone uneven, and knowing he felt it too had you clenching tighter around him.

It was too much, it was everything, it was so fucking good you couldn’t handle it.

“Breathe, baby,” Jake gritted. “You feel so fucking good; stay with me.”

“Jake,” you sobbed, not even knowing what you were asking for. His hips stuttered when you said his name, and he drove into you harder.

The force of his thrusts lifted you off the ground, your leg on his waist hanging in the air and your tiptoe only barely grazing the ground when Jake pulled out. He was fully supporting you, fucking you into the door and each scrape of your back against the wood felt like the only countermeasure to the immense pleasure he was wringing out of your body

“So pretty, baby,” Jake groaned, and when you opened your eyes, his were dark, mouth open as he looked down over you. His panting breath was warm on your skin, and he shifted again, pushing you higher against the door so he could lower his mouth to your breasts as he pumped into you.

You let go of him to clamp a hand over your mouth to cover the scream that wanted to escape.

“None of that, baby,” Jake said immediately, pulling back from your chest. “I want to hear every sound you make, every noise my girl makes on my cock; that’s mine.”

You whimpered but nodded, dropping your hand, and Jake went back to your breasts. His tongue laved over you, teasing and sucking, and you felt the tightening in your core spread to your spine.

Jake released you from his mouth again, his head falling between your breasts. “I can feel that cunt tightening around me; are you getting close, darlin’?”

“I’m so close, Jake,” you cried. He thrust harder, grinding at the top to press against your clit, and you moaned loudly. He was so good, so strong and so big inside of you and you were swimming in it, so close…

“Fuck, baby, you sound so pretty,” Jake groaned. “My baby sounds so good working herself on my cock, doesn’t she?”

You nodded frantically, you were his, his, and he felt so damn good. You were so close, and Jake knew, he always knew.

His hand fell from the door to pull you tight down onto him, pushed with his dick deep inside you, not even a breath of space between your bodies. Jake used that closeness to grind against you, not pulling out, his pelvis over your clit, the pressure unbearable.

“Give it to me, baby,” he said, his voice as tight as his body, wound, waited for you. “Need to feel you come, baby, need to feel that cunt flutter around me, so come on, baby, come for your da—“

You shattered before he could finish saying it.

You keened, your body pushing off the door and spasming as waves of pleasure pulsed through you. You felt it in your fingers, you felt undone and baptized, white hot and unreal, and it sent you tumbling. Your throat felt raw and didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Jake’s careful hands, gently wiping under your eyes.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, and you realized your body was trembling at the force of what he’d just pulled out of you.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” Jake said, concern and pride mixing in his voice.

“‘s your fault,” you mumbled, tucking your head into his neck.

God, he smelled good, like sweat and rain, and the stubborn remnants of his cologne from hours ago. Your eyes felt heavy, your body even more so, and as you relaxed against him, you realized he was still hard inside of you.

You pulled back to look at him, his corded muscles pressing you into the wall. His jaw was clenched and he was breathing carefully through his nose, his nostrils flaring, but his hand on your cheek was gentle, controlled.

Damn, you loved this man.

Only he would take you dancing, laugh in the rain with you, fuck you up against a door without making it out of his boots, and yet tenderly wipe your tears before he finished.

“Baby,” you said softly, lifting a hand to run your fingers through his hair again. Jake leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment when you scratched at his scalp, and he hummed.

“Anything,” he whispered. “Tell me what you need, angel, anything.”

“I feel empty, baby,” you told him, “need to feel you come.”

Jake huffed out a breath, and you slid a little down the door as he twitched inside you.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me,” he groaned. “I’m trying to make sure you’re okay, not—”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, leaning down to kiss him. When your lips met his, he drew in a deep breath, surging up to meet you, and you rolled your hips experimentally.

It was the most you’d been able to move yet, your body loosened by your orgasm, and the sensation had both of you freezing.

“Shit, baby,” Jake breathed.

“I know,” you whispered back. He was so deep inside you, it felt like you could feel him in your throat, but when you ground down on him, it was an entirely new sensation. You were too sensitive still, you weren’t going to come again, but it felt fucking incredible, and if Jake’s labored breathing was any indication, he felt the same.

“Sweetheart—“ Jake gritted, and you moved again. You pressed your forehead to his, sharing air as you swiveled your hips over his, fucking down onto him slowly.

Jake moaned against your mouth, a low, broken sound, and you wished you could trap it in a locket, the sound of your man, absolutely wrecked for you.

“Want to feel you, baby,” you whispered, lifting slightly to kiss his jaw, his neck, back to his lips.

“Christ—” Jake’s control snapped and his hands gripped your hips so tightly you knew he’d bruise.

He moved you over his cock, pistoning into you, and you drove your hips down meeting him. You felt his rhythm increase, and you knew he was close; your hand in his hair tightened, pulling slightly, and he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he pumped into you.

“You’re taking me so good, sweetheart,” he panted, and as his words curled through you, you clenched on him again. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

Jake’s hips stuttered when you tightened and he reached down to circle his thumb over your clit. Your hips jerked when he touched you, and you moaned.

“Baby, it’s okay, it’s too sensitive, I don’t need to—“

“Who knows what you need?” Jake’s words were as forceful as his hips, driving into you. You whimpered as his fingers brushed over you, pleasure spiraling from your core, your body winding up again.

The sounds of Jake slapping into you echoed around the mudroom, punctuated by your breathless moans and his hoarse grunts. Your body hadn’t fully come down from your first high, and you found yourself gasping as he drove into you, pushing you back to that brink again.

“Asked you a question, baby,” Jake said. He leaned forward, pinning your hips to the door. You couldn’t move, couldn’t shift against him, could only open your hips wider as he moved over you, inside of you.

“You do,” you whined, legs beginning to shake again. At your words, Jake circled your clit again, his thrusts growing

“That’s right,” Jake said, almost growled. “And what my girl needs is to come with me, yeah? To milk my cock so she doesn’t feel so empty anymore.”

“Please, Jake,” you begged, as your body wound tighter. He’d driven you so high so quickly that you knew the crash could be violent, and when Jake pressed a gentle kiss to the underside of your jaw, you were off like a Roman candle.

Jake was muttering rough praise against you, but you couldn’t hear him past the ringing in your ears, the way your world blurred, and then finally, finally, the twitching of his cock as he emptied inside of you. Jake came with a shout, slumping against you and the door, his body sagging as he pumped into you. As your skin cooled, you shivered again, this time actually from the cold.

Jake felt it, because of course he did.

You thought he’d pull out of you, but instead he leaned down and lifted your other leg around his waist. You protested feebly, but he silenced you with his lips, lifting you into his arms as he carried you towards the bathroom.

What a picture you made in the mirror’s reflection.

Your hair, tangled and wild, your body absolutely bare except for the marks left on your skin by your lover. Jake was still partially clothed, his jeans now around his knees as he shuffled you into the room, his golden skin shining with sweat. He set you down on the vanity, and he reached around you to turn on the tap to warm up a washcloth.

You smiled at him, sleepy and happy, and he grinned back, quick and easy. You saw his dimple appear on his cheek, and your heart felt like it was absolutely sopping with contentment, and you thought that maybe there was something redemptive about summer rain after all.

[beloved-of-john]

So. This is a personal life update of sorts.

Hello everyone, I'm trying to think of how to word what I need to say. I'm going through a big life transition of the spiritual kind, and it's forced me to think more deeply about where I am in my religious journey and where I want to be. As such, the content of this blog is likely going to change a little.

That is to say, there's probably going to be a lot less queer Christian specific content for a while. Don't panic! I'm still here and I'm still queer! But I want to avoid confining myself and my spiritual growth and understanding.

When I look around spaces like this, most of the people I see are queer people who have been raised religious and are deconstructing that framework to find a more liberating path, and that's amazing and empowering. However, I'm walking down this road from the opposite direction. I'm constructing. I'm completely acclimatized to being queer and out and loud about it, but it's being Christian that's the new frontier for me. At the moment, that's what I need to learn how to do. I know that my Christianity will always be inextricable from my queerness, but now I want to get to the stage where my queerness is inextricable from my Christianity. I want to grow and develop that part of myself and deepen my understanding of Christianity before I talk any more about its relationship to queerness and lgbtq+ experience. I need to learn what it means to me to be a Christian in its own right.

This blog will unequivocally remain a space of safety and solidarity for queer people and queer Christians though. I love all of you and I will always believe wholeheartedly that God does too. ❤️

I'll still do my best to answer any lgbtq related asks or comments and offer my support to anyone who needs it, just bear in mind that there's a good chance I don't know what I'm doing anymore than you.

If you've read this far without judgement, thank you for your patience and understanding. I'm going through this struggle right now, but I have faith that I will come out the other side of this a better rounded person.

[buckets-and-trees]

Companion

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Namor x female!Reader Word Count: 3.3k Summary: A month after the king of Talokan takes you as his betrothed, you question your position and the future as your expectations have been disappointed.

Content Warnings: angst to some relationship resolution, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral-female receiving, fingering), strong language

Additional Notes: This is a direct sequel to Consort - and while there's probably enough context to read this on its own, it will mean far less without reading the first part - the first part that could really be blamed by @nellycanwrite and being a TALENTED ARTIST AND MENACE. We would not be here if not for a particular piece she shared an unfinished sneak peak of last December.

You are restless, agitated, feeling completely unmoored.

Sleep is not going to come to you soon. It hadn’t the past few nights, but tonight you are not going to give yourself over to endless tossing and turning or trying to read yourself to distraction. You are exhausted, but too strung out to find any respite in your room. You quietly slip out of your chambers and begin to wander.

When you eventually find yourself in the throne room, you laugh bitterly to yourself. Naturally this is where your subconscious would take you. This is where your life completely altered course a month ago, betrayed and traded at your father’s hand for peace amongst kingdoms, the tectonic plates of your life not only shifted but shattered.

Only to be picked up by him moments later.

You look out over the expanse of the drop off from the perimeter of the throne room. The view out over Talokan is stunning in the simulated vibranium moonlight, but you resent the view. It’s one more painful piece of your new reality – as beautiful as this kingdom is, it’s still not the picturesque view of Fourchon and your former life in the kingdom of your upbringing.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a few moments, trying to control the anger and sadness.

When the traitorous trade had been made, you thought your father had sealed your fate as a token consultant at best or prisoner at worst, but K’uk’ulkan had spun a different narrative, one where the potential that would have been wasted in your former kingdom was something he saw and wanted at his side as his queen consort. His words had been a balm to your soul, and you had believed him when he said he’d wanted you – to take into counsel, to serve the kingdom, to influence. It was a lifeline offered, and you’d grasped that tether, letting him pull you in. He’d started to put you back together with promises and sealed it with a moment of intimate bliss beyond anything you could have imagined.

Then it was almost as if you’d been banished from his presence. At first you had accepted the explanations of business that needed his attention in other parts of the kingdom and other realms or that his schedule had demanded unanticipated changes, rarely getting to take meals with him, culminating no contact at all for the last two weeks.

You didn’t know it was going to be that way in the beginning though, so you’d spent your month acclimatizing and throwing yourself into life in Talokan. He’d said you were built to rule, driven to do good, why not with him, and since you’d thought he was telling you the truth, you had made the effort to get to know the people, know their culture, know their lives, their struggles, hopes, and dreams. It was intimidating at first – they were a fierce people brought up to be ready for war – but they also created and forged happiness, and you wanted to prove yourself. Before long, you forgot the nerves and tucked away the feeling of being an imposter, because you created relationships, took up projects, and started to create a new routine in your life that meant something to you.

You think the life you are building in this new kingdom is good except for the one perhaps most important thing.  

Tomorrow you are supposed to wed the ruler of this kingdom, and you felt that was now a hollow artifice. The final fitting for your wedding clothes today had felt frivolous and futile. How could you be expected to marry K’ul’kulkan with the distance, the disinterest?

You roll your shoulders back and lift your head up, refocusing your gaze out over this new place.

You will wed Namor with the same resolve that had held you together in the initial moments your life had been traded for an alliance – you would always be duty and honor bound. A foolish glimmer of a passionate partnership was more than you had expected growing up, it had been dangled in front of you for a moment but had quickly dwindled and ultimately disappeared. A political arrangement, and if the past few weeks were indicative of the future, then the only consolation was it seemed Namor would at least let you make your own choices and wouldn’t interfere with the projects you pursued, things you knew you could leverage for good with your position of power in his kingdom.

You only wish you hadn’t been given a glimmer of what might have been. It would have been much easier to manage without the taste of more.

“When you were not in your chambers, I thought I might find you here.”

You turn slowly, forcing your face to give away nothing of your shock or your resentment to the king.

“I was looking for you,” he says, crossing the large expanse of the space.

“Really, your highness?”

“Certainly. Tomorrow you are to become my bride.” He stops an arm’s length away from you.

You can’t help the hardening of your features you feel at this proclamation. “I’m amazed you remembered.”

He tilts his head. “Do not be petulant, Princess.”

“The picture you painted a month ago has not been the reality.”

“What complaint can you possibly have to give?”

“You lied to me,” you let your anger finally spill out in your tone. “With my life shattered to pieces in this very room, you started to put me back together by saying you said you wanted me as your queen consort, not just a wife to adorn your arm and give you an heir, a companion.” You take half a step closer to him. “But where have you been these weeks, especially this fortnight? You left the broken pieces of me on a shelf, discarded and forgotten.”

“Make no mistake,” Namor says and grips your chin, pulling you closer, “you are not forgotten.”

Your eyes are locked on each other now, and it seems you are each trying to delve into the soul of the other. He presses his thumb to your bottom lip, opening your mouth. The action is not rough in any way, but it serves to communicate his strength, your vulnerability, and that he could subject you to anything. “You are mine, Princess.”

Then suddenly he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side before swimming swiftly into the jaws of his throne. He sets you aright and the two of you stand face to face.

“I sought you out tonight to remind you of what we spoke of that day on this very spot. Clearly you did not need a reminder, but perhaps insight into my choices. At present you think me rash and negligent or easily distracted to become betrothed to a stranger in a matter of moments and then seemingly abandon you.

“My offer of marriage was swift but not rash. I told you that day the things I had already learned about you, and the time we spent together showed even more clearly who you were. I have lived and ruled for hundreds of years, I know well how to read a person’s character, and the interaction we shared in those brief moments confirmed you had a fierce and noble spirit with both a compassion to sacrifice for your people and passion to match my own.”

Part of your chest starts to swell, but you dampen it down. He built you up with his words once before, and you are cautious not to get carried away so easily.

“That does not explain why you distanced yourself from me.” You needed more than flattery for your character.

“I am not easily surprised, but I confess I did not expect to be presented with the offer your father made. If you were to become the companion I wanted to see at my side, I knew I could not be the one to put you back together. I wanted the future queen that only you could forge by getting to know my kingdom, my people, our way of life, and integrating yourself into Talokan in your own right. Building your own reputation amongst them these past weeks, they see you are not merely a foreign princess acquired for an alliance, they will accept you as their queen because they know you. You have conquered them with your heart, your goodness, your passion, your sharp mind.”

He pauses to search your face. His words have both softened and strengthened you.

“I did not want to influence or distract in any of that.”

You nod, considering every word, not ready to respond yet.

“Now I did have certain things to attend to, some of which you will know very soon, but I confess I did limit and ultimately withhold the time we could have spent together.”

You open your mouth to argue this point, but he chuckles and shushes you.

“The more time I spent with you – scant as it was – and the more reports that came in from my advisors, my people, even your guards and the servants that attend you – yes, I spoke with them regularly – the more I did not want to share you with anyone else. Since I did not want to rob you of the unique and limited time to integrate into Talokan during our engagement, I cut myself off altogether.”

Your mouth hangs open at this rationalization, your brow furrowing further and further as he had explained his absence. But you do gather your wits, and challenge, “You avoided spending time together because you wanted to spend time with me?”

His smirk is nearly a smolder. “Once we are wed, I’m not sharing your time with anyone until I have to, and we will only spend our days apart as is strictly necessary when we resume royal duties after the honeymoon.”

Oh, he is good with that tongue, you think.

“Tomorrow, I will have you in every way, but for now I want to worship at the altar of what will be mine.”

He seizes your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. The heat is searing, and your lips demand equally of each other. He nips and you whimper, allowing him to plunge his tongue into your mouth. He is hungry for you, and you can’t deny him now.

With one hand still holding your neck and the other now at your shoulder, he moves so the back of your knees meet the edge of the throne, and he slowly pushes you down to sit, stepping between your legs. You look up at him, and you move a hand to his hip.

“Not tonight, my princess,” he says, his eyes dark with lust. “I can wait. I have an atonement and assurance to make of the sincerity of my intentions.”

You’re entranced as he kneels before you. The hand that was on your neck moves down over one of your breasts, along your ribs, and then grabs your hip, pulling you to the edge of the seat. You clutch the stone arms of the throne as his other hand goes beneath your nightdress, finding your knee, and pushes the fabric out of the way as he moves his hand diligently up your soft thigh. When that hand finishes its journey, he tears your underwear away, making you yelp and grasp at the hand he still has on your hip. You know he has preternatural strength, but to experience it, know it’s there in his veins at every moment, and that he must meticulously measure it out is terrifying yet intoxicating.

Much like he is in every sense.

He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and turns his head to press his warm lips to your tender flesh. Slow kisses. Deliberate. Your heart races. You’re desperate with anticipation but the exquisite torture is its own bliss. “Namor,” you plead.

He bites in punishment, and you cry out.

“That is not the name I told you to use,” he says, his voice even but stern. “I will not have you speak the name relegated to my enemies when you have me like this.”

No. Because this is the two of you, intimate. You needed to let him back in. You want to let him back in. “K’uk’ulkan,” you let it fall from your lips.

It draws a small genuine smile that softens this powerful man and warms you even more. He soothes the bite with another kiss, but then the next place his lips land is directly over your core. Your head falls back, and you utter his name again, unbidden as bliss shoots through your body. He is in no hurry as he begins mouthing at your most intimate parts. He warms you up with slow, methodical licks of his broad tongue. He gently draws your nether lips into his mouth, sucking and savoring. Your leg curls around his back as your body surrenders to him. He adjusts the hand over your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, anchoring you to each other while he continues to draw out your pleasure. He pulls back with a long suck, then he dives back in, leading with his nose, following it with another lick behind. When he reaches your clit, he circles it with the tip of his nose, gives a quick flick with his tongue, and then he puckers his lips to suck just the little bead with precision and concentrated force.

Little whimpers, whines, and longer moans fall from your mouth with abandon, and the thought that someone could hear you, could perhaps see this, is a fleeting fear and thrill before he resumes sucking and gliding along your folds, and you discard any worry because you can’t concentrate on anything but his exquisite actions. The king of Talokan is on his knees, continuing to plunder you on his throne. Your free hand threads into his dark hair, gloriously soft in your fingers, and you press him even closer. He hums against your cunt, pausing, and you can feel his lips curling in a smirk, but you don’t care. You need more, and so you tug his locks, and he happily yields to your insistence.

Oh, he is even better at this with his tongue, you think.

He zig-zags his tongue across your slit, then pushes it in your hole. In and out, and again, and again. He begins to speed up, and you’re trembling around him.

Then nothing at your core, and you cry out, your eyes shooting open to look down at him.

He chuckles. You narrow your gaze at him, “You–“

He surges up to put a stop to your words with a kiss, persistent until he feels you soften, then draws away and brushes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re meant for more than instant gratification, my pearl.”

Those words send a shiver down your spine, and you would be irked by the smile that’s still too close to a smirk on his face, but you both know he’s now earned this moment with you. What’s more, there’s a depth in the eyes of the look he’s giving you, proof that it’s not cockiness, but satisfaction tinged with yearning that strikes you to your core. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want, Princess. I will give you everything,” he swears, and you know he means it indefinitely.

“Make me come, my king.”

He nods, eyes remaining fixed on you as his hand moves to your cunt. He inserts one finger, pressing in and then drawing back out, and you hum in approval. He doesn’t hesitate to add a second finger, and you push your hips forward even more. The heat and concentration of his gaze on you is tremendous, and it continues stoking its own fire in your soul, but it’s more than you can handle in this moment, so you close your eyes and draw him back in for another searing kiss, plunging your tongue into his mouth, doing your best to undo him in at least some small way.

He seems to sense this is your intention, as you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, and he curls his fingers up and finds the spot on the wall of your pelvis that will be your undoing. You keen when he finds it, your head falling back. He presses just one open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck, offered up vulnerably to him, and then he swiftly descends to bury his head back between your thighs. He immediately sucks your clit, his fingers continuing to plunder your tight channel, and you wrap your legs around his neck, crossing your ankles against his muscular back. The pleasure builds, coiling in your stomach, your limbs tightening. He curls those fingers again, expertly, and hurtles you over the edge, cries of ecstasy escaping your chest.

His mouth releases your clit, but his fingers carefully stroke you through your orgasm, drawing out the rippling sensations. He solemnly kisses up and down your leg, and you’re still riding the bliss, but you can feel his eyes trained up on you once more.

Just as you think he will withdraw, his fingers pick up speed up again, but he plunges them in deeper. His lips return to torment you with pleasure, and you grasp at his head, though the action is futile as you are no match for his immense strength. His free hand is now planted at the base of your spine, not allowing you to squirm even one inch away from his ministrations. He is in earnest, and so your second orgasm breaks over you quickly, and you collapse forward, the desperate whimpers of release swallowed up by him a moment later as he straightens up and his lips seek yours. You sink into the kiss, and he pulls you from the throne and into his embrace. He moves easily to reclaim his throne, much as he has reclaimed you. His lips continue to kiss you, but they drift away from your lips and back – moving over your cheeks, your jaw, along your neck, softly over your eyes, over your forehead, your shoulders, the spot beneath your ear, the juncture at your collarbone, ghosting over your temples, every bit of skin that’s exposed to him. He wants all of you. You’re powerless to do anything but accept his ministrations, and you have no desire to refuse this exploration, blissed out as you are.

When his kisses slow, you bring your delicate fingers up to caress his face. He rests his forehead against yours, and his arms around your torso tighten, pressing you closer.

“Do not doubt that you are the companion that I want,” he murmurs. “After so long as the solitary ruler of my people, I have no need to settle for anything less than exactly who I want as my queen consort. Tomorrow you will be crowned.”

“Tomorrow.” You smile. “And I do think I’ll finally be able to sleep.”

“Oh, is that why you were wandering in the first place?”

You laugh. “Well, it was the mind that was agitated, but now…”

“Now we understand each other?”

“We do.”

“Then I hope you understand I’m not done with you yet, Princess.”

You gasp as his hand returns to your quim.

“I want one more, to seal this with three.”

You will be boneless by the time the king of Talokan deigns to surrender you to your bed, but every touch, as lost in pleasure as you are now, only tethers you more strongly to him.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Reblog, comment, and share please. Well-meaning menaces are WELCOME in my askbox.

@littlet-holmes you asked to be tagged when I published part two, so... here we are. :) Also thinking @nunya7394 @elsolario @amorestevens @writing-for-marvel might be interested.

[libelelle]

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER. my opinion on Silver is by no means the single correct one nor do i think it should be, do what you do idc. we're all here throwing him at a wall repeatedly for fun

Ok so. whats the point i wanted to make. oh yeah right

SILVER THE HEDGEHOG!!!! FUCK!!!!

his character is so interesting this is a character for sure. im screaming and crying etc etc. the unfortunate part is NO ONE GETS HIM. i see a lot of interpretations that cherry pick his personality and experiences and it just! isnt it! he is a complicated character!

trying to simplify him down to 🥺innocent soft boi🥺 doesn't work, not only cause you're ignoring his DEBUT GAME (NEVER FORGET HE TRIED KILLING SONIC) but also because you just disconnected him from his entire backstory and motivations. i see people making Silver into a "cinnamon roll" guy and it always makes me grimace because... do you know WHY he is clueless. do you know why he doesn't get things or is too trusting or this or that. its because he grew up in the apocalypse alone. he hasn't experienced anything normal or healthy in his entire life. and since these traits, which are used to make him into the innocent cinnamon roll, are a result of growing up in a very abnormal environment, are symptoms of having never been in social situations and never had a normal day-to-day life. this means you can't ignore the OTHER characteristics that result from it. by this i mean hes very independent, very stubborn and aggressively mean (i recommend watching any of Silvers interactions in the Rivals games. he is extremely confrontational and a very good example of the kind of behaviour i'm talking about). but since this doesn't fit the bill for the character that you want him to be, you remove the context. him being clueless has nothing to do with his background. hes anxious cause hes a smol bean, not because hes been drowning in responsibility and trauma for as long as hes been alive. hes kind because hes innocent, not because he chose to be despite it all

"but linnea! what about IDW! hes very innocent in that!" INCORRECT BUZZER. IDW is not the same. i'll admit, the writing isn't always what i want or expect for Silver, but there's something important for you to note here

Silver is ✨Recovering✨

from my perspective at least. what i see is Silver, who has actively been working together with other people for MONTHS. he has friends, a support net, as well as hobbies. these are things he didn't have before, and being with these people, in both calm and hard times, helped him. So what we are seeing isn't the trauma responses, we're seeing the result of being acclimatized into a healthier and safer position. that's why there's a change in behaviour. this doesn't mean hes a soft boy now. AGAIN hes complicated. be careful not to boil him down to a single trait. in IDW we still see moments where he experiences difficulties because of his past. examples include when he met Whisper, Failed Social Interaction and said this:

he struggles with boundaries! of course he does! he's still getting the hang of being around people

then also recently when he came to help Sonic in 58:

he is struggling!! with nothing to focus on! his default is fight fight save the future fight!! he's not used to normal life and that makes him anxious and frustrated, unable to focus on things he cares about, as we see in the future growth comic in the 2022 annual

there are likely more examples but idc. need to finish this post. continuing, Silver is complicated, meaning that even when he is aggressive and tunnel visioning on a task, he has more going on. one thing i fucking lovee LOVE love about Silver is that he has hope. fuck if i were him i think i'd have given up. THOSE horrors? every day? no thanks

Silver feels anguish and frustration and fear. this being said even at his angstiest moments he has hope. you cannot look me in the eye and tell me that Silver fought through every horrible disaster, coming back to a newly devastated world every time and decided to continue with no hope for a better future. he is determined and he has hope, even if he has to fight tooth and nail for it. Usually when i think about Silver and his odd optimism, i go back to '06, when he's having his moral crisis over killing sonic.

"To kill someone to save the world... is that really the right thing to do?"

it would've been understandable if he decided it was the right thing to do, even if sonic was someone who was kind and loved, because that's just how bad the world is. maybe its just me, but the way this thought broke through in spite of his bull headed focus on destroying the iblis trigger speaks to me about his nature as a person. even coming from the bleak world he came from and even with the tunnel vision he had, he still considered this one persons life to be important too.

he is, at heart, a very gentle and kind person. he is, at heart, someone who is strong and who wants to help others. a version of Silver that is sad all the time, unable to see the good in the world (a phenomena i don't see much of thankfully) isn't true to Silver as a character because its missing that core trait to his character, that he wants to help because he cares.

Silver can't be one or the other. one way ignores his background and his trauma, which leaves out important parts of his personality, the other just abandons a very integral part of who he is.

the point really is to say that (slaps roof of Silver) this bad boy can fit so much layers!

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

“Are you sure it’s not too cold?” 

“It’s fine.” You glance down at Emmaline in the stroller, wrapped up in a blanket over her little winter jacket, fuzzy wool hat pulled down around her ears. “It’s not nearly chilly enough to be concerned. She’s probably overdressed, to be honest. In Norway, they leave babies outside to sleep in much colder temperatures.” 

“Why?” He keeps pace beside you, strolling along the park’s walking path leisurely, trying to keep his heart rate normal every time your hip bumps his thigh, or you nudge him with your elbow. 

“It helps their immune system, I think. Exposes them to the germs in their environment, allows them to build resistance, or something. Plus, the climate there is naturally cold? So, I think it helps acclimatize them. Pretty sure some people say they sleep better.” 

“That’s… brave of them.” He doesn’t know what else to say, he can’t imagine trusting the world enough to leave a baby, leave Emma, outside to sleep. 

“It’s different, I guess, when you have a ‘village’,” you use air quotes around the word village, and regret flashes across your eyes. “when you trust your community. Rely on them.” He doesn’t expect the longing that rings in your voice, the doleful, twisted tone of loss, a mournful sentiment that has him nearly pulling up short, slowing to a stop to tilt his head in consideration, his eyes above the mask zeroed in on yours until you’re giving him a meek smile and shrug. “Anyway,”

“Sweet-“ 

“I feel like we’re always talking about me or Emma. How about you? How was your week?” You pause, something occurring to you, pushing your lips forward with curiosity. “I know you said you travel for work, but I don’t think you ever told me what you did?” Shit. He’s not ready for this. He tries to recall how he practiced it with Johnny, the words that they agreed upon, the approach he would take. 

“Ye gotta make it sound at least somewhat normal, LT. Make her feel safe about it.”

“’m not goin’ lie to her.” 

“It’s not lyin’. Just, use the official language. The propaganda stuff, y’know.” 

He knows what he’s supposed to say, the lengthy spiel about ‘managing global conflict’ and ‘identifying and neutralizing domestic and global threats’, the words Johnny had suggested, but instead, what comes out is; “I’m uh, in the military. In a multi-national spec ops task force that focuses on counter terrorism. We operate from of a base just outside the city.” The park bustles around the three of you, runners and walkers circumventing where you’ve slowed to a crawl on the crushed gravel path, families tugging at one another, boys and girls hopping with excitement over promises from their parents. 

“That’s… interesting.” You say the words slowly, like you’re mulling them over, considering them. “Is it dangerous?” 

“Only sometimes.” You raise an eyebrow like you don’t believe him, skepticism plain as day, and he concedes. “It’s not a desk job, but I’m very good at it.” He wants to reassure you, desperate to keep the hope alive that’s been building in his heart for you, needs you to feel safe with him. The water is in sight now, ducks and swans floating on top of the glass like surface, waiting for their offerings that come from so many that frequent their little lake, every day. You motion to an empty bench, turning the stroller in it’s direction, his breath still caught in his chest, lack oxygen starting to make him feel woozy. Say something. Say anything. 

“Emmaline’s dad had a dangerous job too.” You unbuckle her from the stroller, cradling her in your lap as you nestle into one end of the bench, eyes fixed on the group of ducks closest to the shore. “And he was good at it.” 

“Is that how you lost him?” He concludes softly, the question as gentle as he can voice it. You don’t look at him, but he can see the change in your face, tears welling at the corners of your eyes, posture curling over your baby. 

You only nod, but it’s enough. Enough for him to slide a little closer, pressing the outside of his leg to yours. Enough that your free hand wanders, fingers brushing against the fabric of his jeans, your face lifting from the water to his with a question. 

“Can you hold her? While I get the biscuits?”

“Of course.” You shift her into his arms, and he straightens her so that she’s sitting up against his chest, crook of his arm supporting her head, other hand flush with her belly. You rummage inside the bag that’s shoved under the stroller, Emma’s backpack, and she coos at you from Simon’s arms. “Is that your mum?” He murmurs, and she gurgles something in response, a happy string of sounds that has his heart warming inside his chest. “Yeah, that’s her huh?” You straighten, bag in your hand, watching him and Emma, sad expression turning beatific, bittersweet smile pulling at your lips. 

“Come on.” You don’t reach for the baby, instead motioning for Simon to follow you, trusting him to carry her down behind you, to hold her as you as break up the little pieces of biscuit. “I promised her some ducks.” 

[itsclydebitches]

Building off your argument that Ted isn't going to go back to Kansas, he was constantly correcting his mother this episode with regards to British terms. Where before he was the outsider who didn't understand Britishisms, now he is the native who uses the terms instinctively to the point where he gets annoyed when they're used wrong. Sounds like he's acclimatized to England.

Yes!!! I was thinking that a couple weeks back too when Ted first uses "football" instinctively and then comments on how natural it's become. He's reached a point where he's both using that terminology as a matter of course ("Some of us have a football team to coach!") as well as teaching others (here's how the dials on the oven work). (Sidenote: I'm not sure what to do with Dottie's tea comment yet. Not even sure atm whether I read it as sincere or sarcastic, but regardless, I think it's a potentially useful detail next to Ted willingly drinking tea in "Sunflowers." That was another version of acclimation on his part.) Now, combine this verbal/dietary acclimation with our opening where every previously negative interaction Ted had with the community has been flipped to show that they now adore him -- seen most strikingly through the "wanker" guy and, throughout this season, the pub trio supporting him at training -- and if they do send Ted back to Kansas it's really going to read as that Mary Poppins situation of, "He arrives to brighten everyone else's lives and then leaves. Why do you care what he needs? He's just a narrative tool."

To further add to this I can't help but think about the long-term structure of Ted's life now that we know Beard's backstory. We're told that, like his time here in Richmond, Ted helped Beard, forgave him, gave him another chance, and ultimately gave him a life. If we look at Beard's situation as a microcosm of the whole show, it seems significant that Ted does not leave Beard behind. That was not a situation -- a situation we're worried about getting now -- where Ted played the part of emotional coach and then sent Beard on his way, far from him as he's no longer needed. Instead, we get the opposite. Beard becomes his best friend, a staple of his life, and continues to help Ted in turn. By waiting until the penultimate episode to reveal the roots of Beard's loyalty, the show has ensured that the focus is on their equal standing and how Beard has likewise benefited Ted over the years: helping him see that wanting to win isn't a bad thing, trying to provide support through his anxiety, recognizing Ted's tells and informing their new community of what to look for (Nate, during the divorce arc: "Is he okay?" Beard: "No!") Beard could have been a minor, flatter character who popped out of the woodwork just to say, "Ted Lasso changed my life for the better, extraordinarily so, and he is The Best Man anyone could ever meet" (which, frankly, would have made Ted a flatter character too) and then gone on his way, having succeeded in the narrative function of reminding the viewer that this is Ted's sole role in the story: coaching others to be their best selves while pushing his own needs aside.

Instead, Beard becomes the cornerstone of Ted's support system. Ted doesn't leave him behind, he permanently integrates him into his life.

What's a microcosm of this microcosm? Ted Lasso does the same thing with Trent. Does he go off into the writing world once Ted helps him realize what he truly wants in life, his story concluded, never to be seen again? To quote Beard, "No!" Trent comes back and, significantly, Ted doesn't pull any metaphorical Mary Poppins arguments along the lines of, "I'm done all I can for you. It's time for you to move on." He eagerly invites Trent into their Richmond circle when no one else will (I'm currently working on a meta of Trent's first scene of Season 3 because OH BOY IS THERE A LOT) and Trent stays, not simply writing his book but becoming a member of the family. Surely there's a pattern here: The people Ted helps don't leave him, but rather become core additions to his life that enrich his own outlook and understanding of himself.

I'm not saying I'm going to toss Ted Lasso in the bin if we get the Kansas ending, but I AM saying you all will have to suffer through a dissertation length meta on my blog about why that was a bad choice lol

[darth-mortem]

The next GhostSoap fic!

It is night time and Soap is at his desk completing his mission report and Ghost is resting on Soap’s bed watching him write. 1987 words.

The snowfall started after breakfast, and when TF 141 returned to the base after a long mission, everything around was already covered in a thick white and cold blanket. It was strange and unusual for the soldiers to see this because they had spent almost a month in the desert of the Middle East fighting the terrorist threat. After disembarking from the helicopter, they hurried to their residential block, but no matter how fast they walked, they still managed to get very cold in their desert gear. All four members of TF 141 were badly affected by the sudden weather change, so Captain Price arranged their dinner to be brought to their break room and then ordered them to rest. However, one of them still had a task: to write a mission report. Normally it was done by the commander of TF 141, but this time all the paperwork fell onto Sergeant MacTavish’s shoulders.

“You have every chance to become the captain and the second commander of our unit, son.” Price said, putting his hand on Soap’s shoulder. “So you’d better start learning the ins and outs right now. You’ll write a report, and then I’ll check it and correct your mistakes. But first, you rest. This is an order.”

“Aye, sir!” MacTavish answered.

You can keep reading on Ao3 or here

Johnny went to sleep and only woke up when Ghost brought him dinner, coffee, and report forms. Yawning, Soap slid off the bed and went to the sink in the corner of his room, trying to wake himself up with the cold water.

“Did ye sleep, Lt.?” Soap asked, turning on the big and cozy hoodie with ‘Lieutenant Riley’ on the back.

“No,” he answered, “I cleaned my weapon and organized my gear. Then Gaz got sick because of acclimatization, so Price and I took him to the medical center.”

“Och, poor thing. He never tolerated it well.” MacTavish shook his head and looked at the lieutenant. “Sae ye tired ‘n’ won’t stay?”

Ghost looked thoughtfully out the window. It had already gotten dark outside, and the base command had ordered to temporarily stopped fighting the snow. The blizzard only intensified in the evening, and all personnel were advised to limit their movement around the base. In the light of the lanterns, only reinforced patrols could be seen, which, from time to time, passed along established routes. The icy wind howled and moaned, hurling spiky snowflakes into the window glass. On such cold and scary nights, all Simon’s demons returned to torment him with nightmares again, after which it was very difficult to wake up and comprehend reality.

“Nah,” Riley finally said, “I’ll stay. Will take a nap here at your place while you write the report.”

“What if I need help?” Johnny asked, sitting down at the table and pouncing on the food and coffee Ghost had brought.

“You can ask everything you need.” Simon said, shivered, and moved away from the window.

He wasn’t feeling well either. His temples felt tight, his whole body was shackled by an unpleasant weakness, and he couldn’t warm up in any way, although objectively, the temperature in the residential block was quite comfortable.

Soap finished eaten, rinsed the plates and cup, washed his hands, and returned to the table. Meanwhile, Ghost took off his hoodie and boots, turned off the nightlight, and lay down in Johnny’s bed, wrapped in his blanket. He watched how the sergeant frowned in concentration and bit the tip of his pen; how he placed a blank form in front of him and, checking the sample, started to fill out the title page. Simon smiled sleepily as he saw the tip of Johnny’s tongue stick out from the strain, and then his eyelids drooped and he dozed off.

The lights out signal rang through the base, but due to the howling wind, Johnny didn’t hear it. He attentively described the preparations for the mission, as the building gradually grew quiet. In the neighboring rooms, the conversations and music stopped; the footsteps in the corridor disappeared. Soap realized that all he could hear now was the wind outside and Ghost’s calm breathing. Looking at Simon tenderly, MacTavish leaned back on his chair and started to recall details of the mission as well as consider how to better present them in the report.

…Soap slowly made his way past the enemy patrol, ducking and hiding behind crates. He was supposed to plant the bombs at this base while the others went about their tasks. Ghost had to neutralize the security; Gaz had to obtain documents confirming the connection of one official with this terrorist group. Price took up a sniper position on the cliff and was ready to provide fire support if it was needed.

There were gasps and soft sounds of bodies falling on the sand behind the sergeant. He understood that Ghost had started his work and smiled.

“Bravo 7-1, don’t slow down.” Soap heard Price’s voice in the earpiece of his radio, shook his head, and started to move on…

The sergeant briefly described how he had started planting the bombs, how Garrick had gotten into the terrorist command center, and how Riley had neutralized all the outside security without firing a single shot. At this stage, the captain only watched because everything was going according to plan. This was not surprising: TF 141 had been monitoring the base for a long time before infiltrating. But no matter how good the preparation is, it’s still not possible to take everything into account.

…“It’s Bravo 2–6.” Everyone heard Garrik’s quiet voice on their radios. “I can't get out.”

“Copy that.” Ghost answered. “Did you find your target?”

“Aye,” Gaz answered. “But the enemies blocked the exit point.”

Garrick got into the command center through the window on the second floor. There was no one in this building at night under normal circumstances, so he quickly found the documents he needed and was about to leave the same way he had come in. But today several terrorists, who were supposed to sleep in their barracks, decided to go out to smoke and chose a place under the window through which Gas was planning to get outside.

“Bravo 0-6, can you destroy them?” Kyle asked, hiding in the room.

“Negative,” Price answered. “There are four of them; I won’t have time to do it without them making a fuss.”

“Whatever ye decide, dae it quickly.” Johnny intervened. “I’ve already planted a’ bombs ‘n’ turned oan the timer; we have thirteen minutes.”

It was decided that Riley and Price would try to destroy the smokers together, and after that Ghost and Gaz would go to the exit point of the enemy base, where Soap will be waiting for them. The lieutenant used his throwing knives, and the captain used a sniper rifle, and everything would have been fine if one of the terrorists, dying, had not pulled out a safety pin from a grenade. Apparently, he saw Ghost and wanted to throw it at him, but he didn’t have time to do it.

“Fucking hell,” Simon said before the grenade exploded, the searchlights on the base turned on, and the siren wailed…

MacTavish angrily crumpled the half-written sheet of paper, threw it into the bin, exhaled noisily, and rubbed his tired eyes. All of this woke up Ghost; he stirred and looked sleepily at Soap.

“Och, sorry, m'eudail.” The sergeant got up, walked over to the bed, and sat on the edge of it. “I didn’t want tae wake ye up.”

“Nevermind.” Simon took Johnny’s hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it through the fabric of his skull balaclava. “Better tell me, how is your progress?”

“I was just thinking about how better tae describe what happened efter that glaikit moron detonated a fuckin’ grenade.” MacTavish sighed heavily, and they both started to recall how everything went.

…Ghost and Gaz ran across the base in chaos. A siren was wailing; terrorists were running here and there, brandishing Kalashnikovs; the beams of searchlights were darting in different directions, looking for culprit. However, no one paid attention to the culprit themselves because Lieutenant Riley ordered to remove the outer clothing from the killed terrorists, who were the least affected by the explosion, and put it on themselves. Also, two members of TF 141 covered their faces with keffiyehs and grabbed enemy weapons to blend in with their surroundings.

Meanwhile, Soap tried to slip quietly to the exit point. It was closer to him, and he almost succeeded, but he saw that several enemies had noticed the cut mesh of the fence and were talking briskly about something, standing right next to the hole Riley made for the entrance and exit. It was bad because Ghost and Gas could appear at any moment, and the time before the explosion was getting shorter and shorter.

“Bravo 0-6, how copy?” MacTavish pressed his back against the wall, hiding from the beam of searchlight.

“Solid.” Price answered. “Do you want me to destroy them?”

“Negative.” Soap said. “I have an idea. Cover me.”

“Rog.” The captain made sure that the others had everything under control and turned his attention to MacTavish.

Soap’s plan was simple. He wanted to move a little further and toss a grenade into the pile of crates where provisions were probably kept. A few hours ago, they were loaded from the truck, and maybe they haven’t yet had time to transfer them to the warehouse. The explosion will attract the enemy’s attention, and then all three members of TF 141 can leave the base and move to a safe distance before MacTavish’s bombs go off.

Unfortunately, Johnny didn’t know that the crates didn’t contain food, but ammo and grenades. The explosion caused this all to detonate, and flames rose into the night sky. 7,62 bullets started to fly in all directions, hitting the sand and the walls of buildings, puncturing the sides and tires of cars, and people's bodies. Soap managed to fall and roll into a cover, but his ears were ringing disgustingly, and he didn’t immediately hear the lieutenant’s voice in his radio.

“Bravo 7-1, how copy? Soap, do you copy? What the fuck was it?”

“Ghost…” MacTavish rasped. “Are ye close yet?”

“Affirmative,” Riley answered. “You?”

Soap raised his head and saw Ghost and Gaz behind the exit point. He jumped to his feet and, overcoming the ringing in his ears and nausea, ran to them…

“I didn’t know that there was bloody ammo in those crates.” Johnny said, lowering his head guiltily. “How should I describe this fuckin’ hell in th’ report?”

Simon yawned, sat up on the bed, and rubbed his sleepy eyes through the opening of his balaclava.

“Okay, Johnny, sit down and write after me.” The lieutenant said and started to dictate. “During the retreat from the enemy’s base, an extraordinary situation arose, which was solved with the help of the unconventional thinking and ingenuity of the members of TF 141.”

“Yeah, and?” Soap got up his eyes and looked at Ghost.

“That’s all.” The lieutenant shrugged, smiling under his balaclava. “Unless you add that the goal of the mission had been achieved, and everything that belongs there according to the statute.”

Johnny froze, starring at Simon.

“Well, what’re you looking at? Do you think Price is reporting on all the sick, bloody shit we’re doing?” Ghost asked, raising his eyebrow. “The main thing is that the mission is accomplished successfully, and the details... you can let them go.”

“Rog!” Soap said and smiled cheerfully. “Thank ye, Si.”

“You're welcome, Johnny,” Simon yawned again and crawled under the blanket. Soon, Soap finished writing and turned off the lamp. In the darkness of the room, he went to the bed, undressed, and lay down under the blanket in the cozy warmth. Simon, without waking up, hugged him; Johnny smiled, closing his eyes, and quickly fell asleep.