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kakashixhatakesxwhore · 4 months

Note

Could we…. Expound on Shikamaru’s sexual prowess maybe??? I’m tryna see something….. for research, of course.

For research.

this took forever cause i hyped shikamaru's sexual prowess up so much, im sorry for the wait - anyway, thank you for the request, i hope this helps your research

Joint Reverie

Pairing: Shikamaru x f!Reader

Summary: Our lovely reader has been Shikamaru's fwb for a while now, and is waiting for him to return to Konoha from a diplomatic mission. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

W/c: 5.5k

Warnings: Weed (it's a Shikamaru fic, y'all), INTENSE SMUT, pussy eating, cock sucking, nipple playing, slut-calling (real brief, and not in a degrading way), cum-tasting, and penetration - also a lack of protection

Notes: not a part 2 per say, but can very much work as a follow up to this fic... anyway, how do we feel about this one, horndogs? is it up to par? also, Sasuke is the competition dealer, though he isn't in town much.

Masterlist💿

The speakers were such a worthwhile hassle, after you spend your day tangling them all around your tiny, little apartment. Two in the bedroom alcove and four around the living area - they set you back a couple thousand yen, but you couldn't have been happier.

As you placed them, you traced the wires back to the soundboard that your old man had given you. He owned the most popular pub in Konoha, Kintaro Izakaya, and had done the technical sound work at the establishment for years. He was more than happy to give you an old mixer board, and two old speakers to boot - but you really needed new speakers, speakers of your own.

When all was done, you plugged your record player into the soundboard and then plugged them both into the wall, flicking the on switch on your soundboard. Kneeling, you pulled the crate which held only your favourite records from under the table while the board came to life.

What do I want to listen to most?

You shook your head at yourself as you thumbed through the assorted albums. Colours flashed, titles whizzed by - the captured faces of yester-year stared back at you, begging you to chose them.

So, when you got to the beautiful, young faces of Roger Waters and David Gilmour (that's right, I said it, they're yum), you could help but choose The Piper at the Gates of Dawn.

You slipped the vinyl from its sheath and popped the lid of your record player open with your little finger. Carefully, you slotted the black disc around the anchor in the middle and closed the lid, placing the empty album on top of the glass.

With two gentle fingers, you tapped the play button, and the needle arm picked up. You got behind the soundboard, turning the gain dial by a hair, the lights flashing as the needle contacted the vinyl.

You turned the gain dial two clicks more as the radio chatter began to come through. You raised all the equalizer slides to the middle of their tracks, then pushed the rumble and high end further. The beeping began, a bit tinny, so you raised the low-end dial just above the low and high mid sliders, before pulling the mid range down by a hair.

The sounds surrounded you, standing near the middle of your apartment. They wrapped around you, and, as Roger Waters began to sing, you could feel a tear in your eye.

Fuck, you loved improving your apartment, even with such a trifle. It was your happy place, honestly and truly.

Feeling quite content with your work, you sat on your plush, grey couch. The springs whined beneath you as you reached under the coffee table to procure your rolling tray. Such a big day, with so many emotions, surely called for a joint.

Pulling one of your pink papers from the packet, you took a deep breath. The instrumental had begun, and the notes were still hitting your ear exactly how you wanted them to. You tore off a corner of the packet and began to roll a filter, in a desperate attempt to keep your mind quiet.

Alas, you were never so much as a thought away from the ache between your legs, and the only man who could cure it - even after so much sweat, even while rolling up a new distraction.

How were you going to last two more fucking days without him?

The diplomat always had to go so far away, and for such long swaths of time, but this was the longest he'd been gone since the two of you... had come to understand your relationship differently.

The past two weeks and change had been fucking torture.

He made your toys so wildly unsatisfying, and you didn't want to go out, whoring... well, maybe a little, but whoever you found probably wouldn't satisfy you either. Sure, you could've gone out to find another person to invade the sanctum of your body- see, no, you couldn't. Other people were so... not Shikamaru. They wouldn't make you see the whole night sky from behind your eyelids, not like he did.

To make matters worse, you were already running low on your reserve weed, which you had to purchase off Sasuke, of all people, the last time he was in town. It was Ino who recommended him, and you trusted your good friend's good word. Plus, your dealer was way the fuck out of town, and you were a fiend - no shame in that.

Folding the paper over your tray, you dumped whatever was left in your grinder down. Skillfully as always, you slotted the filter into one end, and began to roll the flakes down. Eventually, you folded the paper in and made a nice, little cone.

Sasuke's product wasn't too shabby either, like Ino promised. It was properly sticky, and almost had a crystalized sort-of look. It was good weed, but it was a far cry from that purple weed of Shikamaru's.

You filled the tip with fallen weed from your tray, and then screwed it shut before putting the filter in your mouth. With a heavy sigh, you scoured the table for your lighter and realized Lucifer Sam had begun to play while you were so preoccupied, thinking about Shikamaru.

That prick can't leave me alone, even in his absence, you thought with a smile as you picked up a white lighter. Does he think about me half this much? Does it piss him off as badly?

Definitely not, but if so - the next answer would have to be, yeah, totally.

You two were simply friends who seshed alone, who shared chocolates, who occasionally fucked and stole kisses. Nothing more, nothing less.

Dragging your perfect joint, you settled into the couch, pulling an ashtray close on the coffee table. You were too in your head. You had to relax, to gather yourself, and remind yourself-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Man, fuck, you just sat down.

Throwing the small amount of comfort, you had built-up out the window, you got up from the couch, puffing your joint quickly, and drew to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole. Mr. Irizawa kept your building nice and safe - it was probably just one of your neighbours coming to ask you for a cup of sugar, or something like that.

Except, as you pulled open the door, you realized it was nothing like that.

Before you could even smile, Shikamaru threw something onto your couch and cupped your face with both of his hands. He pulled the two of you together in a swift motion and his lips were pressed to yours, hungry and hot, demanding and desiring.

He broke away for only a split second to groan, "Fuck, I missed you."

You smiled as he kissed you again, pushing you back into your apartment and letting the door shut behind him. With a matching force, you kissed Shikamaru back, and he audibly chuckled to himself, letting his right hand drop to your waist. He pulled away, but pressed about five small kisses to your lips as he did so.

Body alight, you beamed, "I missed you too. I thought you still had-"

"Nah, took care of it, darling" Shikamaru responded lowly with a shrug, clearly in the mood for other things.

Ugh, and so were you. Finally.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, smiling like dopes. Shikamaru's warm hand remained on your face, as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your cheek. You took in his sage green sweatpants, and his loose, black long-sleeve, and the way his ponytail seemed to droop a little. It seemed Shikamaru had the presence of mind to shower before he saw you - something you wouldn't have done if you had to go away for so fucking long.

Part of you would have liked a little bit of notice, so you could have showered, or taken out the trash, or something like that - but most of you didn't care and knew he wouldn't either.

Carelessly, you brought the joint to your lips, and Shikamaru's eyes flicked to it immediately, making him lean away from you slightly as he asked, "How could you possibly still have weed left?"

"I had to get some," you gasped, trying to keep the smoke in your lungs.

With a smirk, Shikamaru traced your soft cheek with the back of his index finger, before stealing the joint away from you. He hummed, "Good for you, sneaking into the Nara Compound - I was only joking when I suggested that I didn't think you'd actually do it."

Ooh, shit. You'd negated to specify where you had gotten your weed, honestly forgetting that Shikamaru had ever told you to dip into his stash when you ran out. That really was a crazy suggestion, one that you truly wouldn't take up.

Shikamaru, of course, realized that as soon as he took a long drag from your joint. His eyebrows furrowed immediately, looking at the pink joint in his fingers like it tasted of bleach as he exhaled.

"Where the fuck did you get this?" He asked slowly, drawing the filter back to his lips to take three, short, consecutive puffs. Shikamaru's dark eyes snapped to yours, betrayed. "I'm not mad - but I need to know who sold this to you."

"Sasuke," you answered immediately.

Shaking his head at a painfully slow rate, Shikamaru put the joint back to his lips as he looked at the ground. He took another drag and pulled the joint from his lips like it burned him. With a scoff, Shikamaru lamented, "It's fucking gas."

"Awe, are you jealous, baby boy?" You teased, stealing the joint back from Shikamaru, who looked at you with a certain spark in his eye. You clicked your tongue and pinched his cheek with your free hand. "Well, it's blinding you to taste - your weed is so much better."

"Fuck off, you're saying that to make me feel better," he chuckled as he watched you take a lasting drag from the joint. You pulled it away, passing it back to him. Shikamaru took it hesitantly and sighed, "At least I know you rolled this yourself; no one can roll one quite as tight as my doctor, eh?"

"I don't fuck around, man," you exhaled, creating a thick cloud around the two of you as Shikamaru's grip on your waist tightened. "Seriously. You've got the best product in Konoha, it's a known fact."

A beat of silence passed between the two of you as Shikamaru dragged the joint deeply. He held it then puffed up the smoke randomly. After another drag, he asked, "So, why'd you waste your money then?" He exhaled, "Huh? I know that bastard overcharged you, and I can't even stand the thought of you, seshing with him-"

"Sasuke doesn't smoke - he's a good dealer like that," you teased, trying to soothe Shikamaru's annoyance over.

Didn't work. Shikamaru's eyes snapped to yours, that spark catching to a flame behind them.

You shook your head and sighed, "Look, man; I wouldn't have gone to Sasuke, if I knew it'd bother you so much... I didn't think you were the possessive type."

"Go to Sasuke for anything else, darling?"

"No," you said pointedly. "And what about you, playboy? Did you get any strange while jaunting around the Cloud?"

Shikamaru's expression went from interrogatory, to relieved, to amused, within the span of ten seconds. He laughed deeply, "No, I didn't get any strange."

"Good, I don't need you to make me go get tests," you snipped, stealing the neglected joint form his fingers.

Hooking it into your mouth, you shimmied out of Shikamaru's arm and padded over to your soundboard while he took off his shoes. You turned down the gain, then pushed the rumble up again.

"Quite the set up you've got going on here," Shikamaru hummed behind you as you looked over the lights and buttons in front of you. You smiled, puffing away as you watched the mixer lights jump with each strum, each bang, each lyric. "Wanna give me a lesson, finally? If you don't, it's fine, just know, your buttons are begging me to push them."

He really wasn't kidding, as you had to smack away his hand almost immediately. "Woah, Nelly - paws off," you giggled, angling yourself toward him. You tapped the mono/stereo button lightly, and said, "This one does the least damage, but don't be rough with my buttons."

"Then give me something to be rough with," he suggested.

"Charmer," you hummed, as Shikamaru's presence came over your shoulder. You pressed your ass against him, already feeling his mouth-watering length hardening against you. Your eyes remained solidly on your soundboard as you played with the high-end slider. Pulling the joint from your lip, you mumbled, "You have me already, don't you?"

Indeed, he did. Wrapped right around his lithe fingers.

Shikamaru's warm hands found purchase on the curves of your hip and waist, on either side, moving up and down as his long fingers mapped the expanse of your figure. Warm, minty breath washed over your exposed collarbone, Shikamaru leaning down to kiss and nip at the tender skin playfully. You yelped, twitching against him, just like he wanted.

"As I live and breathe..." His words were so quiet, you almost missed them amongst the sounds of the Pink Floyd; but you could feel the very vibration of his tone against your clavicle. Louder, Shikamaru purred, "I was withering away without you."

Rubbing your ass against his length again, you leaned into Shikamaru as his arms wrapped around your torso. His forearms were so thick, the muscles strained against the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. The scent of his piney soap filled your nose, getting you higher than any strain ever could. Shikamaru's hands glided across your body, pulling you flush to him, squeezes and caresses in their wake.

In a swift movement, Shikamaru stole the joint from your fingers and put it in his mouth as he spun you around against the table, hand remaining on your hip. He puffed the joint greedily, as he told you between drags, "There is less than a reason for you to keep smoking this shit - you've got a fresh ounce now."

"Works for me, sweetheart," you hummed in response, looking over to the package he had thrown on your couch. You leaned up to press soft kisses to his neck as you whispered, "You know you and yours make me feel the best."

As Shikamaru chuckled lowly, you could feel the thrum against your lips, as your hands clutched his broad shoulders. With that edge in his voice that drove you mad, he asked, "Me and my what, darling?"

"Y'know, you and your everything," you responded with a laugh of your own.

"I want you to use your words, pretty girl," he insisted, pulling you away from him.

Eyes sparkling playfully, and his signature lazy smile on his lips, Shikamaru looked absolutely perfect. He was so fucking handsome, all the time, but in this moment- cripes.

"Fuck, and I wanna tear your clothes off."

Shikamaru laughed lowly, ashing the roach in the ashtray on your table, "Then, tell me, what of mine makes you feel the best?"

Before you could come up with some witty remark, Shikamaru's gaze returned to you, a new kind of flame kindling in his eye. One that spoke of a lust that existed in the depth of his soul, one that commanded you to comply, with the promise of great reward.

"Do you want a list?" Your eyes darted to Shikamaru's lips as he nodded playfully, hooking his other arm around you now. You hummed, "Well, off the cuff, you've got the best weed - and the best dick-game, ever." Shikamaru cocked his eyebrow, so you continued, "Seriously, no one's ever made me cum... just the people in this room."

Shikamaru laughed loudly, moving back with you in his arms, pulling you along to the alcove where your bed sat. "Keep going. I like it when you sing my praises."

"Look at you; big, strong Shikamaru, soon-to-be Head of the Nara clan, demanding to be praised," you teased as Shikamaru collapsed onto your bed, pulling you on top of him as his cheeks reddened.

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Shikamaru shrugged, "Exactly. Don't you think I deserve a kind word?"

"I think you deserve everything and a bag of chips, sweet boy," you giggled, pulling yourself to straddle Shikamaru's lap. Your clothed heat rubbed against the bulge in his sweatpants, giving both of you a delicious bout of friction, and making Shikamaru's dick twitch in the process. With a content lilt, you sighed, "You're so impressive, Shikamaru. In every capacity; mental, physical, business-wise."

"Think Sasuke's impressive?" He asked with a crooked smirk, trying to disguise the curiosity in his tone as humour.

"Eh, sure, kinda - nothing like you though, no one impresses me like you do." Your tone was so soft, as you continued, "Not in any way - you're so smart, and handsome, and so extremely well-endowed." Grinding your hips down, you leaned down to press another string of kisses to his neck. In a small voice, you said between kisses, "I only think about you, sweetheart... only you."

Grasping your hips with a true grip, Shikamaru began grinding you against his erection with vigour. You could feel the veins through all the layers of cotton that separated you, and a small gasp fell from your lip as his shaft pressed right against your clit.

"Only me, huh?" He asked as his fingers got lost beneath your shirt. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Fucking you, if I can help it," you answered instantly, sitting up on his lap.

You pressed your hands against his chest but applied a generous pressure to your seat as you continued to move your hips in small circles. Shikamaru chuckled warmly, still playing with the hem of your shirt. He looked up at you with a smile, his eyes crinkling into halfmoons as he did.

"Then, how about this for a schedule?" Shikamaru sat up a little as he spoke, grasping the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. He threw the fabric across the room, warm hands coming to your suddenly cold back, Shikamaru smiled up at you as he said, "We go out to a nice dinner, take a walk, then we fuck?"

Oh, fuck yes! Tonight is the motherfucking night!

You kept your cool. You smirked, leaning down a bit to catch his head between your tits. Shikamaru kept his eyes on your face, awaiting your answer, as his fingers drew strange shapes on your back.

"How about..." You hummed, pushing him back onto the bed. Shikamaru fell back, confidence faltering slightly as his hands slid to your thighs. With a bright smile, you leaned over him a little and proposed, "We fuck, then dine, fuck again, then walk, then fuck a third time?"

"You're the fucking jackpot."

His words were so mumbled and strung together that you could hardly make them out, but you didn't really care. Shikamaru's smile was back, and he pulled you down for another kiss.

With zeal, his hands moved up your thighs, onto your hips and up your bare torso. Shikamaru cupped one of your tits, immediately catching your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, while one remained around your back. Suddenly, he flipped you both, so that you were lying on the bed.

Hovering above you for just a second, Shikamaru tore his shirt off and threw it to a corner of the alcove before leaning back down to kiss you. He pinched your nipple, making you gasp, which allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth quickly. You hummed into his mouth, just so fucking content with how everything turned out - for once.

Moving down, Shikamaru trailed kisses down your jaw, then peppered your neck with little suckles and bites. You whimpered and twitched, only inciting Shikamaru to continue nipping down to your chest.

"Please, sweetheart, stop teasing me," you mewled as his lips captured your right nipple. Shikamaru's tongue swirled for a moment, before his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. You gasped, scratching his shoulder a little with one hand, "Please, please, please."

"Nuh uh, never," he chortled, popping his mouth off your right tit, only to move to the left.

One of his hands continued to play with your suddenly chilled nipple, as he tongued your left areola wildly. His fingers pinched, while his mouth massaged - he palmed your right tit and sucked the left, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes.

Your hips bucked up, seeking the previous friction, and you clenched around nothing. Rubbing your thighs together didn't provide any solace, because Shikamaru noticed almost immediately and put his leg between yours.

Moving your hands down, you scratched at his back, trying to pull him up even a little. It didn't work, and Shikamaru moved further down your body as a show.

"Patience is a virtue, darling," he reminded you with a gentle timbre, pressing kiss after kiss to your stomach and abdomen. "Besides, you know I like it when you get all desperate for me."

"Man, fuck you," you whined, your body jerking unconsciously as Shikamaru's hands came to your waistband. "I'm not desperate... I've just been needing you so bad, Shikamaru."

His fingers dipped below the waistband of your sweatpants as he hummed, "I dunno, I'm not convinced."

"You're so mean to me, you know that?" You shuttered as his fingers danced just beneath your waistband. "I'd get on my hands and knees to beg you, and you'd still make me do a dance."

"Well, you are the best dancer," he chuckled.

Your retort was cut off before it could begin as Shikamaru finally tugged at your pants. You were quick to pop your hips up so he could peel them off, and you tried to pull him back to you again. But Shikamaru planted his feet firmly to the ground and lowered himself to the edge of the bed, pulling you forward.

"Hey, I didn't shower-" You tried to warn him, sitting up.

Shikamaru pushed you back down easily and put your legs over his shoulders. Immediately, he said, "Hey, I don't care."

"Mean," you mumbled.

Without any build-up, Shikamaru leaned forward and licked a fat stripe up your pussy. You gasped, while he groaned, "Delicious."

Shikamaru pressed a myriad kisses to your inner thigh then - kisses, so sloppy, you weren't entirely sure he wasn't licking your thigh. But you didn't care, because his soft lips just felt so good against the tingling skin. The glorious sounds from your new speakers fell on deaf ears, as the fog of pleasure clouded your mind entirely.

Then, with another stripe, Shikamaru dove into your pussy. His tongue glided through your folds a few times, then right up the center to swirl around your sensitive clit. You could have screamed as he sucked gently against the bundle of nerves, until he released it to tongue your entrance again.

His name fell from your lips like a chant as your hands scratched at your own stomach, not wanting to fuck up his ponytail. Without wasting a second, Shikamaru reached back and pulled the elastic from his hair, letting it fall around his face like a curtain. You pulled his hair back, not wanting to miss a second of Shikamaru's face between your thighs.

A smile was evident on his lips as you tugged a little, and Shikamaru's tongue drifted up again to tease your clit. His fingers suddenly met your folds, now feeling cold in comparison to the fire that coursed through you. They dipped in, separating your folds in the slick of arousal and spit, only teasing your clenched entrance.

One finger pushed in, curling to stretch you out and hit that spot that only Shikamaru seemed to be able to hit. You cried out lewdly, invigorating Shikamaru as he began to pump his finger into you while he still abused your clit with his tongue. He added another finger, flicking them both against your gummy walls and bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you could feel a rhythmic clench building, you chased the light of your orgasm. You looked at Shikamaru with lidded eyes as he devoured your pussy, sloshing sounds abundant in the room.

Then, he stopped.

"I knew you would do that!" You cried out, feeling the light fade from your grasp. Letting goes of his hair as he stood, you grimaced while Shikamaru smiled so very wickedly.

"Y'wanna cum on my face, or my cock?" He asked rhetorically.

You rolled your eyes, but Shikamaru was looking for you to use your words. He palmed himself over the green cotton, not giving you what you wanted until you stated it with your chest.

You groaned, "Your cock... please."

"That's my girl," Shikamaru grinned as he bunched the fabric of his waistband into either hand.

Pleased and praised, you couldn't suppress the smile that took over your features. You shimmied up on the bed to give Shikamaru some room. He tugged off his trousers, massive cock smacking just beneath his navel once free.

Shikamaru's cock was a sight to behold, thick and perfectly veined. Your mouth-watered at the mere sight of it, the ache between your legs intensifying.

Taking the base of his cock into his hand, Shikamaru pumped a single languid stroke up his length. Precum gathered at his tip, making his slit glisten in your apartment light. Immediately, you sprung forward, repositioning yourself entirely to be at mouth-level with his cock.

"What's up, Buttercup?" He asked, stroking his dick again.

The precum accumulated so that a true drop formed. Before it could drip, you stuck out your tongue and caught it. Your tongue glided up Shikamaru's frenulum, then around his tip once, before you closed your lips around his head, sucking gently.

Knees buckling slightly, Shikamaru's hand came to the side of your head as he choked out, "You're not- hah- desperate for me, huh?"

You replaced your hand for the one Shikamaru had wrapped around his base, as you took more of his cock in your mouth. Pumping what could never fit down your throat, you bobbed your head, almost like you were nodding. You looked up at Shikamaru to gauge a reaction, and he was smiling down at you broadly, looking so relaxed.

"You're such a slut for me, aren't you, darling?" He asked, pushing his hips forward a tad. This time, you really did nod as you sucked up the length of his cock. Shikamaru tugged on your hair a little, and chuckled, "You're my perfect woman. All mine, aren't you?"

As you hummed against his cock, Shikamaru groaned lowly. His hips began to move on this own, pushing his cock against the back of your throat more harshly. You didn't mind - Shikamaru was always very considerate about his size.

"Fuck, darling, your mouth is so soft." Despite how lost in the moment he sounded, Shikamaru pulled out of your mouth with a shutter.

You continued to stroke him as he drew onto the bed, and until he pushed you back against the pillows. Shikamaru slid between your legs and lowered himself to you immediately, capturing your lips with his again.

On his tongue, you could taste your bitterness, and you groaned, feeling how wet his chin and nose still were. Shikamaru's cock fell between your folds, and he pushed his hips up, grinding against your bare pussy with his twitching dick. You whimpered, broken pleas falling from your mouth between kisses.

Finally, as if he couldn't take it anymore, Shikamaru sat up. He lined his tip up with your tight hole and locked his eyes with yours as he slowly pushed in, grabbing your waist for leverage. You threw your head back when his tip was sucked in with a squelching sound.

"Holy fuck!" You yelled, feeling like you were getting split apart. Your hands flew to his thighs, scratching and squeezing as you throbbed around him.

Continuing to push in, Shikamaru groaned, "I know, darling, I'm sorry."

"Don't- ah! - be sorry," you cried, feeling like he was almost in. You could feel a pressure on your lower stomach as he neared your cervix. Shikamaru finally bottomed out, and stilled, giving you a second. You didn't want the second, immediately begging, "Fuck me! Fuck me, Shikamaru! Please!"

A string of curses fell from Shikamaru's lips as his grip on your waist tightened. He pulled back a little and then slammed his hips back into you, watching to see if you'd take back your words.

You didn't, only whimpering at the feeling.

That was enough for Shikamaru to take your command for what it was. He pulled back again, this time almost to his head, then thrusted into you deeply. You moaned salaciously as he picked up a very passionate pace, hitting that sweet spot every single time.

A very moist pap, pap, pap sound began to fill the room, your slick already dripping from you and pooling beneath you. Soft grunts and groans fell him Shikamaru's lips, adding to the symphony already at work. Your grip on his thighs tightened, and the crescent-moons of your nails dug into his bulging muscle.

You bounced against the bed, being pushed and pulled by his hands, and reacting to the slamming of his hips. Shikamaru's left hand came to your tit, squeezing the tissue roughly as he plowed into you. A near pornographic sound came from you as he started to tease your nipple again, which only made him that much more zealous.

"Your pussy is fucking amazing," he groaned, pulling at the sensitive bud lightly. Still, it sent shocks through your body, making you feel so warm and tingly. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet for me."

"Only you," you managed to choke out between moans and groans. "Only you, Shika-aaa-maru. Only you."

"You're fucking right, only me." Shikamaru's pace picked up and he leaned over you, putting the hand that was attached to your waist beside your head. Your hands sprung to his back, scratching lightly, a slight pain lingering. He continued to tease your nipple as he asked, "Can anyone else make you feel this good?" You shook your head, a scream bubbling in your throat at the quickened pace. Shikamaru thrust into you firmly, and stayed bottomed out, reminding you, "With words, pretty girl."

"Fuck, no! No, no one! Just you, only you," you gasped.

That was the right answer, because Shikamaru started moving again. Clutching the rippling muscles of his back, you bit onto his shoulder as he continued to pound you mercilessly. His name was the only thing on your mind, so you barely even heard the 'I love you' as it slipped from your vocal cords.

Muffled as it was, Shikamaru heard you.

He kissed you again but slowed his pace considerably. His tongue slipped into your mouth, inviting yours to dance so gently, as his hips met yours in quite the juxtaposition.

Deeply, you hummed against his lips, and Shikamaru swallowed up every moan that came from you. Slowly, but surely, his pace quickened again, in even more frenzied thrusts. The rhythm was much stronger but started to get unruly.

Pulling up and away from you swiftly, the hand that was playing with your nipple slid down your abdomen, tickling you slightly. Shikamaru's fingers found your clit, rubbing small circles in time with his thrusts.

"Just like that," you purred, pleasure overtaking all your senses. "Fuck- yes- I'm so close."

Heeding you, Shikamaru changed nothing about his pace or position. You were right on the edge, and he was bringing you closer, and closer, and closer-

"Fuck, I love you," he groaned as you came, squeezing around his cock.

Your heart jumped to your throat, but the fog of your orgasm quelled your worries in an instant. You spasmed wildly around him, milking his cock and, to his credit, Shikamaru continued without so much as a stutter, not taking his fingers off your clit until you had ridden out your entire high.

Then the true sensitivity set in.

"Ah! Fuck! Shikamaru, oh my stars, holy fuck!" You cried out, starting to squirm.

Taking his fingers from your clit, Shikamaru gripped the other side of your waist and pummeled into your pussy a few more times before he slid out quickly. He took his cock in his hand and pumped it twice before pearly cum began to paint your stomach and tits.

He groaned as the ropes shot onto you, dick twitching with every release. You smiled broadly, swiping a finger through the pool atop your belly button. The pearlescent coating dripped down your finger as you brought it to your mouth. Shikamaru's eyelids fluttered closed as he watched you take the finger into your mouth and sigh with the taste.

"Fuck, were you in the Land of Fruit, because- stars, you're yummy," you chuckled, swiping up a much larger glob of Shikamaru's spend.

"Oh, shush, you jester," he chortled as he got off your bed.

Shikamaru drew to the bathroom a step away while you took a breath and appreciated the sweet-bitterness of his cum. The music had gone quiet long ago, the record needing to be flipped to the B-side. Shikamaru came out a second later, holding a roll of toilet paper as you continued to suck on your fingers.

"I don't jest - you should've cum on my face." When Shikamaru extended a folded-up portion of toilet paper, you scrunched up your nose and took up another portion to drink up. "What? I'm busy," you said. Shikamaru just rolled his eyes, still smiling as he leaned forward to clean you off, himself. You sighed, "Man, that's mine, what are you doing?"

"Gods above, you're nasty," he laughed, throwing a cum-soaked wad of paper away and tearing off another few squares to clean himself off.

"Nasty for you," you grinned. "Eh, loverboy? Can't be upset with that, can you?"

"You are so in love with me," he bit back.

You nodded, smiling broadly as you threw open your arms. "Yeah, and so are you. Stop being a prick and cuddle me."

#shikamaru smut #nara shikamaru #shikamaru nara #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru x you #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru nara x you #shikamaru fanfiction #naruto shikamaru #shikamaru one shot #naruto fanfiction

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blueseze · 21 days

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Sweet Memories by Me (wholesome)

(Short story based on the scene in the movie with Jake and Neytiri spending time with toddler Lo’ak, Kiri and Neteyam)

Also I’m not the best writer but I hope you guys enjoy :)

The sun, a warm, golden disc, filtered through the vibrant canopy of Pandora's forest, dappling the emerald floor of Omaticaya village with light. Laughter, bright and joyous, filled the air as Jake Sully, his broad frame radiating warmth, playfully lifted their eldest son, Neteyam, into the air. The boy squealed with delight, his small limbs flailing as Jake guided him in a mock airplane flight.

Neytiri, her eyes soft and filled with love, watched the scene unfold with a gentle smile. Her heart swelled with a happiness that was as vast as the forest itself. Beside her, Kiri and Lo'ak, their faces a mixture of fascination and quiet amusement, watched their older brother and father. The youngest, Lo'ak, ever the contemplative one, instinctively sought comfort, his thumb finding its way into his mouth. Neytiri pat Lo’ak’s back as she was kneeled next to his little frame.

“Hufwe (Wind),” Neytiri murmured, her voice a soft melody, as she raised a hand towards Neteyam's feet as Jake guide him near her. Her gaze, filled with affection, lingered on her son, her heart brimming with pride.

A sudden burst of high pitched giggles erupted from Kiri as Neytiri, ever the playful mother, stood up and began flapping her arms, mimicking the graceful flight of an ikran. Neteyam, upon being gently placed back on the ground by Jake, immediately mirrored his mother's movements, his small body a whirlwind of imitation. Kiri's little body followed the movements of her mother as well. Lo'ak, clutching his treasured toy ikran, watched them quietly, his little golden eyes were content in the simple joy of his family.

Jake, his eyes crinkling at the corners, ruffled Lo'ak's hair softly, a gesture of silent affection. He watched as Kiri and Neteyam, spurred by their mother's playful antics, took off running, their laughter echoing through the trees.

Later, the children were drawn to the cool embrace of the river, their playful squeals growing louder. Jake, unable to resist, joined in the fun, splashing playfully at his children. Jake, retaliating with a mischievous grin, splashed water back, causing Neteyam to let out a surprised squeak. Kiri's giggles, as bright and clear as a bird's song, could be heard for miles around.

Neytiri, sensing Lo'ak's quiet detachment, moved to his side, her presence comforting. The boy, his attention caught by the smooth, cool stones at the riverbank, had found his own amusement. Neytiri laughs warmly as she held Lo’ak’s shoulder in amusement as he pretended the rock as flying a ikran.

As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and violet, the day's playfulness gave way to a quiet evening. The children, nestled amongst soft furs and woven blankets, were occupied with their toys, their small bodies radiating warmth and contentment. Mo'at, her face etched with a loving smile, watched her grandchildren with pride, her heart overflowing with the joy of family. Mo’at tells the kids stories as they were nestled up ready for bed. As Jake and Neytiri smile at Moat and their children, they turn to look at each other. Jake and Neytiri, their eyes filled with a deep and abiding love, shared a look that spoke volumes – a look of gratitude for the simple, beautiful life they had found in Pandora, a life filled with laughter, love, and the unbreakable bonds of family.

……

I hope you guys enjoyed this short story.

I rarely see anyone write wholesome content so I decided to do one myself. I might write more in the future. I could write about Tuk as a young baby and more adventures with the kids with Spider too. Although I liked Avatar 2 because of the Sully family, but Avatar 1 will always be number 1.

Headcanons of mine:

I like to think Lo’ak is one of those quiet babies to grow up to be a menace😂

Mo’at would watch the toddlers when Jake and Neytiri wanted a break or go out on dates

Neytiri would always keep a watchful eye on the youngest, for instance she would keep an extra eye on Lo’ak but also watch Kiri and Neteyam play with Jake nearby

#jeytiri #wholesome #all ages #short story #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #neytiri #neteyam #atwow #avatar2 #jake sully #loak sully #kiri sully #atwow neteyam #moat #Lo’ak #short fiction #proshippers dni

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weirdanimal-tournament · 2 years

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THE COMPETITORS

After hours of filtering, I have a list! From 411 submisstions to 134 competitors. Of course, that means that not all the submissions are competing. My main rule for filtering was that when many similar animals were submitted, one was selected. This means that even if your submission din't get in, there is likely somthing else similar you can vote for instead! I'm hoping to get the polls out this Saturday or Sunday, and I'll post the time once it's decided. That being said... here's the list!

Mouse deer

Blanket octopus

Twenty plume moth

Anomalocaris

Caecilian

Bagworm moth caterpillars

Balaenognathus

Banded archerfish

Barnacle

Barreleye fish

Tripod fish

Bigfin squid

Bilby

Black sea hare

Black snub nosed monkey

Blobfish

Blue sea dragon

Nano-chameleon

Bush brown caterpillar

Chinese water deer

Maned wolf

Colugo

Common spotted cuscus

Corpse Assassin Bug

Messmate pipefish

Cotylorhynchus

creatonotos gangis

Tongue eating louse

Ganges river dolphin

ghost pipefish

Giant Anteater

Giant gippsland earthworm

Giant tube worm

Giraffe Weevil

Glowworms

Goblin shark

Golden mole

Green-banded broodsac

Greenland shark

Gum leaf skeletonizer caterpillars

Hagfish

Hallucigenia

Hammer head bat

Helicoprion

Honduran white bat

Short horned lizard

Green hydra

Jerboa

Jerusalem cricket

Lamprey

Largetooth sawfish

Bulwer’s pheasant

Lowland Streaked Tenrec

Lyrebird

Marbled polecat

Mata mata

Mexican mole lizard

Ghost faced bat

Mudskipper

Muntjac

Naked bulldog bat

Naked mole rat

Phillipene tube nosed fruit bat

Oarfish

Mantis shrimp

Ogre faced spider

Okapi

platypus

Pangolin

Parrot fish

Partridge bug

Pelican eel

Asian giant softshell turtle

Pink fairy armadillo

Pipa pipa

Platybelodon

Portuguese Man O War

Potoos

Predatory tunicate

Pufferfish

Sea spider

Red lipped batfish

Bowmouth guitarfish

Roseate spoonbill

Pink iguana

Royal albatross

Sage grouse

Saiga antelope

Sailfin dragon

Volcano snail

Schaefer’s anglerfish

Sea cucumber

Sea pig

Sea sheep

Sharovipteryx

Echidna

Assassin spider

Spider tailed viper

Siphonophore

Solenodon

Spectral bat

Spix’s disc winged bat

Spotted wobbegong

Stalk-eyed fly

Stoplight loosejaw

Giant phantom jelly

Sunfish

Sword billed hummingbird

Tailless whip scorpion

Tapir

Tardigrade

Tarsier

Telescopefish

Woodcock

Aye-aye

Bobbit worm

Nautilus

Glass frog

Immortal jellyfish

Olm

Mirror spider

Trilobite Beetle

Trumpetfish

Vampire bat

Vampire squid

Velvetworm

Wonderfish

Wrinkle-faced bat

#animals #animal #weird animals #weird animal #tournament #competition #poll #polls #zoology

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aut2imagineart · 1 year

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This was much delayed due to me coming down with Covid. Fortunately I recovered and was able to finish this. This is another land/seascape of Proxima B (a real planet that I'm speculating life on). This features some of the lifeforms that inhabit the coastlines in and out of the water. I've included some organisms that I've depicted in previous pieces but with a clearer view of them. Here's a quick rundown of them.

Lesser Razorback: a medium sized herbivore that favor running blades (the grass-like organisms around it) that grow along the shores.

Sandpiker Wyvern: small wyverns that probe the sand for organisms that burrow in it.

Skimmer Wyvern: Wyverns that soar just above the water to skim for prey using their specialized teeth.

Shoaling fishamander: Small filter feeding fishamanders that form large shoals as anchovies and sardines do on Earth.

Seadics: small predators that can glide temporarily using disc shaped membranes.

Sea Pooka: An otter-like Pooka that dives for shelled invertebrates.

Sea Wyvern: A flightless wyvern species with a lifestyle akin to penguins and auks.

Lesser Seaspinner: A smaller Seaspinner species that inhabits shallow waters along the coasts.

Kelp Seafan: A marine species of fan that is much darker than their terrestrial counterparts to better photosynthesize

Sea scale: mollusk like invertebrates that feed on bacteria that grow on rocks and other surfaces.

Reef Hopper: crab-like relatives of the more insect-like springers that feed on kelp fans and carcasses that fall to the bottom.

I might make a page devoted to fishamander species as there would be much many more than what I've shown.

As always, comments and critiques are welcome.

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palepinkgoat · 10 months

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weekly tag game! It's Thursday though, hope that's ok. Thanks for the tag @deedala and @michellemisfit! I love doing these!

which character from any media would you like to have as a father?: Craig T Nelson in the movie The Family Stone. That's such a good movie and he's a great dad. Also he's age appropriate since I am old.

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?: Another dog would be fun. Someday I want another rescue pit mix to keep Alvin company. Only a girl we can name Darla (my daughter's choice)

what is your Chinese takeout order?: ooooh crab rangoon and maybe general tso chicken with fried rice. I haven't had Chinese food in a long time.

what's your favourite emoji?: I'm on the computer and can't do it, but I overuse the hell out of the cry-laugh emoji.

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?: a greenhouse would be amazing just to be in, the plants and the filtered light, just so cheerful on a colder day.

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly? oh gosh, maybe little house on the prairie? I was obsessed with the books and the show looked 0% like Minnesota and Wisconsin but I still loved it.

what was your tumblr like when you first joined?: I only joined so I could look at shameless stuff. it was 2013. I didn't really know what to do with it for a long time. Then I got super active and then walked away. Now I'm back!

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?: Gosh I feel like I'm too old to pull off any style anymore, but I love the 70s-90s punk aesthetic and cottage core, to go two completely different directions.

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?: Does it have to be a whole other world like not a real place? Because I have no idea.

what is your favourite piece of art?: Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth (pictured above) I also really love Whistler.

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?: Olive green with stickers but it leaks so I don't take it anywhere, just use at home, but only sometimes.

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave? I'm not quiet about anything in life haha

do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?: Lightish brown leather crossbody from Madewell that I got from a friend. I love it so much. The weirdest thing is maybe an epi pen. My son is super duper allergic to bees.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?: Oh god, WHAT? No. But fine. Lip I guess.

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?: maybe a/b/o?

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?: Ian got so gloriously beefy in S11 but Mickey is ripped and anyway he would never admit he couldn't carry him. He could get a slipped disc or hernia and he'd still try and walk it off.

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?: Carl and Debbie fought over it, but Liam took it while no one was looking. @silvanshadow @juliakayyy @francesrose3 and @gallawitchxx join in if you haven't already!

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writingsofhubris-a · 1 year

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Portrait of a Lady

↞ | ← | Master | AO3 | → |

Ch 2. You have the scene arrange itself — as it will seem to do— Rating: E WC: Tags: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Human/Monster Romance, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Cancer Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: You'd met Harding elsewhere, even though you'd never talked for more than a few minuets. When you'd stopped into his emergency room, when you'd visited Chelsea, you found yourself looking at a man you'd known only in passing heading your care. He'd led you through tumultuous questions, opened up as easily as any of the surgeons could open up a person. Somehow, you'd been drawn to Harding, and he was willing to take you up on your offer.

It had been two weeks since you’d been discharged. Two full weeks of healing, of no more migraines, of fun.

You looked into the mirror at the biggest indicator of the trauma. A bald head, shorn to the skin, with a line showing just where your head had been cut into. It looked as clean as could be expected, but no one would enjoy seeing such a sight.

The scarf you’d purchased months ago was in your hands, and you carefully tied the silk so it wouldn’t shift off your head, allowing you the warmth that your hair had once provided. You had received unknowing compliments on the different designs already, though it still felt like a slap in the face to tie.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself steady. To celebrate, your mothers had been spoiling you rotten, spending every spare moment they could with you. You privately believed them to be scared of the possibility they’d been presented with; losing you in such a speedy, pedestrian way. Tonight was an art exhibit, a request from both of them to have your company; one that you took them up on quite quickly. You enjoyed their company too much to turn them down, and to see the opening to a long forgotten Mark Rothko? You knew better than to turn that down.

Another look at the scarf, elegantly draped down your back, matching the lovely dress you’d splurged on to get. Dark silk draped over your body, complimenting each aspect you loved about yourself. You had to feel good about yourself somehow, and your dresses certainly allowed you that.

“You look beautiful!” Your mom took both your hands, and turned you around, allowing you to show off the look you’d pulled together. “Just stunning, glorious. No one will be looking at the Rothko with you in front of them.” Her words stole a laugh from you, and you wrapped your arms around her body, pulling her close to you.

“You look beautiful, too, mom.” Just then, your Mama walked in, dressed in a loose, elegant dress. It looked like it was made for her, fitted just so over her body. “Oh, Mama, look at you!” you separated from your mom, only to wrap your arms around your mama, pressing your face against her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re both coming with, I wouldn’t know how to handle everyone otherwise." You kissed her cheek for a moment, and took a step back.

Just then, a phone rang. The call was answered by mom, and finished quickly.

"Cmon, the cab is outside!"

It wasn’t quite as busy as you had expected. There was a spattering of people, filtering in and around the different canvases, but it wasn’t even close to the amount of people you’d expected this exhibition to warrant. A newly found Mark Rothko, never before seen to the public, and there was still elbow room. You would have felt shocked, if not for the obscurity of the art world these days.

A flute of champagne was held in your fingers, the single drink you allowed yourself during your healing. From the moment it was drained, you knew water was calling your name.

Few faces were recognizable to you; not due to a lack of recalling the names, but an influx of those interested in the art itself. A certain amount of anticipation filtered into you, hoping that it would end up bringing in a new wave of blood, an interest in the classics brought forth by American painters. But a face isn’t what first jogged your memory of a name.

No, a back, clad in a black jacket, broad as could be, called your attention faster than anything could have managed. You recognized that cropped hair, the weight placed on the heel of his left foot. Doctor Harding Hooten, called from his fancy hospital rooms to the lanes of an art gallery.

You walked up to him just as his conversation finished up, those who had taken his time walking away with a gentle touch to his forearm. He tipped his glass to them, before taking a sip of the dark liquid.

“Doctor,” you said, your feet stopping even with his.

“Ah, hello.” You were careful to watch him out of the corner of your eye, but his eyes stayed trained on you, a small smile on his lips. His gaze lingered for just a moment, before turning to the dark curtains surrounding the painting. “Are you here for the Rothko?”:

“As I assume you are.” He tried to reply to you, only for an employee to walk up to the curtains, her strong voice ringing through the gallery.

“If everyone could please localize in the main area, we are about to reveal the painting!”

“Here we are.” Harding’s hand moved to your middle back, a sudden contact you hadn’t been expecting. The silk did little to mute the heat from his hand; it sunk into your muscles, straight through to your core. He guided you in the most subtle of ways, just a gentle pressure to allow you a better view. Harding moved you to stand just slightly in front of him, allowing you protection from anyone who would try to surge forward from behind.

“Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished guests. It is my pleasure to reveal to everyone our newest, priceless artifact. A Rothko, never before seen in Portland. Untitled, 1952, by Mark Rothko.” A pull of the cord, and the painting was shown, a flourish befitting of the art. violet, orange, and burgundy, all colors brushed into the striking canvas, telling a story that you hadn’t expected. Beautiful, invocative, breathtaking. A hush fell over the people, simply allowing themselves to take in the art.

“Magnificent,” Harding whispered, his deep voice just over your shoulder. He was just as taken as the rest of you, looking over the pigments that had been shaped by emotions now unknown to all of you gathered. The voice of the host was loudest, describing what was occurring during Rothko’s life, what may have spurred him to paint this work.

No words passed between you and Harding in those moments, simply appreciating the art in the way that Mark Rothko preferred his art to be viewed; silence to preserve the freedom of mind.

Taking more time in nature was something you’d wanted to do for years. With the kick of this surgery, you’d at last taken the plunge to take a walk just after breakfast, before you knew you needed to sit down for the day. It started to bring you a peace you hadn’t even realized you’d missed. The dew on the ground was always cold when your feet would pass through it, the birds only just started to caw and whistle to each other, the beams of the morning sun found the starts of buds on the leaves. Your footsteps’ echo on the cement had worked its way into the waking of the world.

You stretched your arms above your head as you continued to walk on, pulling your muscles in your back for just a moment. It was just then, quite out of the blue, that you heard your name, yelled out behind you.

The man who had yelled it was one you’d been thinking of just the night previously; Harding Hooten, dressed in all matter as a man on a day off. That bowtie you’d come to expect on him still was snug under his chin, but instead of a suit, you found a deep purple sweater vest adorning his chest, warmth sucked to his body. His coat was open over his stomach, but with the wind having let up slightly, you found yourself grateful for the sight.

“Harding!” You took a couple steps closer, but he hurried his way to join you. A pair of binoculars rested against his breast, a clear indication of what his goals were in the park. "Harding, how are you?" His smile swept you into his good cheer, mirroring him with your own smile. Seeing Harding this early in the day made you happy in a way that you were becoming familiar with when you would see him.

"Good morning. What are you doing this early out here?"

"Just on my morning walk. What about you?"

"Birding. I haven't had a chance this early in a while."

"Birding?"

"Identifying local species,” he clarified. “I’ve been on the lookout for a specific Eurasian collared-dove that found a roost in just one of these trees, but I have yet to locate the nest.”

“Would you like some company, then?”

“It would be my pleasure.” You fell into step next to Harding, allowing him to guide your path to the suspected trees.

“Just ahead,” Harding’s low voice intoned, stopping a few yards from an outcropping. “A few of us are looking for this, It’s just…” His voice trailed off, just as he lifted the binoculars to his eyes. A couple slight adjustments, and he froze, his breathing even stopping for the moment. “My god.” In his excitement, Harding stepped closer to you, and moved the small plastic apparatus to your face, holding it at just the right angle.

You saw what had taken his breath in those moments, a small family of the very dove that he had been looking for. To you, they just looked like a normal, if thin and less fancy, pigeon, four of them sitting all together. Two fully grown, and two that were just slightly smaller; a family clearly, with children not just ready to leave their parent’s safety. Harding’s excitement for the small birds enraptured you, allowing you a side to the birds that you hadn’t expected to see.

He was right; the implicit love and admiration of the man coloring your view of the animals. He found wonderment and peace in these seconds, the calming nature of simply observing. It lined up with what you had already come to know about him; Harding was sure of himself due to his rigorous adherence to observing long honored practices; birding included.

You pulled back from the binoculars, and felt your arm brush against him. You must have gotten close due to the small amount of slack his neck strap offered him. Embarrassment flooded through your body, your cheeks warming.

Nearly at the same time, you both cleared your throats, and stepped away from the other’s personal space. Quick thinking as he always was, Harding was the one to save the conversation.

“I haven’t found a Eurasian collared-dove here in Portland in nearly four years.”

“That long?”

“I’ve been claiming it has been due to my work schedule, but I think you just proved I needed some luck. And to wake up just a little earlier.”

“Then I'm glad to have provided a service for you.” You looked around, hearing the first coos of the birds, signaling their consciousness to your presence. “How lucky of us both.” The time spent with Harding meant more than you’d expected, a small look into his world, his life. He was a man of many pursuits, it seemed, all tuned just so to his life, allowing breaks only when it was properly possible.

Perhaps those layers would be pulled back for you, on your account.

The thought flitted into your head, unbidden, and you had to pull your gaze from the man, glancing back to the trees you had just been looking at. The trees were much safer to look at than it was to look directly at the doctor himself.

“Are you going to be attending the American Cancer Society’s banquet next week?”

“Yes; Chelsea needed a representative.”

“So work, not pleasure.”

“Indeed.” One of the doves suddenly took flight, a flurry of activity in the midst of your discussion. Its wings spread in powerful strokes, flying high over the branches.

“Beautiful.” The path of the flight brought you back to looking at Harding, his face swinging away from you only moments after the birds flew by. “Really beautiful.”

If you’d been luckier, Harding would be sitting next to you, instead of across from your chair. A circular table of six, intimate but not crowded, full of strangers. The only thing that tied the six of you together was the support for the society, a shared care for those who would inevitably benefit.

Such events used to find discontent on your end, never sure how to actually handle yourself. Over time, you had become more natural in your actions, more sure in your enjoyment of such dinners. The more you went, the more you would find casual acquaintances, some of which blossomed into friendships.

This benefit had already concluded the bulk of speeches, recognizing someone or another for a donation. The table took up conversation fairly quickly; Discussion was shared through the first course, polite laughter over the salad. Plates were whisked away, the service as top notch as you’d have expected. Not a dropped fork, nor a clash of cups had been heard in the room.

This dinner hadn’t meant to stay smooth; you saw the degradation happen slowly. Someone from the table on the other side of Harding stood without looking behind them. Her shoulder caught the edge of a serving tray, and the six plates carefully balanced on the server’s hand was knocked directly over his shoulder. You heard the guests’ startled gasps, the waiter’s exclamation of shock and warning insufficient to stop the sauce and sweets from spilling over Harding’ shoulder. Thick, stick brown sauce marred his bowtie, dripping down his vest and coat, landing in his lap. Shock stilled your table, and with a glance behind you to not replicate the same issue, you stood with your napkin.

Whatever possessed you to stand and help him, you weren’t entirely sure. But you were around the table, ready to help him to a more private area to clean up.

“You didn’t need to help clean me up.” His voice was low, just for you. “You’re missing your dessert, and that’s really the only course meant to be enjoyed during these.”

“Hush,” you replied, sliding the linen carefully over his cheeks. You heard a sudden round of applause from the room a few halls over, but you didn’t even look over your shoulder. Surface scars and pockets in his face caught the chocolate sauce from the swipes of the fabric. “I doubt any kind of food I’m missing is worth more than seeing you covered up like this.” Another pass of the dark fabric, and you cleaned off his other cheek. Each pass removed more of the sticky sauce, until you finished with a pass over his nose. His freshly buzzed hair was almost a lost cause, already congealed back into chocolate. Even if the sauce was cleaned up from most of his hair, it would be too sticky to ignore.

“You missed the chance for a photograph.”

“Could’ve framed it.” You look a moment to look over his face, reaching out once more to brush off some more from his cheekbone, face cleaned.

“But you’re still missing the final plate of decadence.” A rush of boldness suddenly took you, and you reached out with two fingers, as he had done to feel your pulse, many times before. Unlike his actions, your fingers simply slid over his neck, passing along a spot coated in sauce. You looked at Harding as you sucked your fingers clean, looking him in the eyes.

“I’m okay missing that decadence.” Harding’s eyes fought to move back to yours, witnessing that small smirk on your lips. You tipped up his head with the napkin, once again cleaning his skin. His neck only had some left on the right side, marred with the swipe from your fingers. His bowtie was ruined as well, threads stealing a slight darkness. Each swipe took off more. Only one shoulder was covered in sauce, which you carefully dabbed at, trying to help with the stain there.

“I’m afraid the shirt is a lost cause,” Harding interjected, and your hand fell from his shoulder. You’d cleaned off most of the liquid, enough that it shouldn’t transfer to anything else.

“I think you’re right. Bowtie and vest, too.”

“So long as the rain has settled, I’ll be fine.”

“Want to sneak out early? I don’t think I can handle any more of those promises that won’t be followed through on.”

“There’s a side hall just that way.” Harding nodded to the right of the door, and your plan was made. Rules be damned, the night was late, and Harding wasn’t in a state to return to the dinner anyway. “C’mon.” With the simple word, Harding guided you out of the small wash room, twisting this way and that to locate the coats. The coat attendant’s eyes widened upon seeing the mess Harding was, not even sparing a glance for you.

“Sir, is everything alright?”

“Not quite, I’m afraid a small accident requires me to retire early for the night.” You could see the smile on his lips, and he fished out his token for his coat. “Might I…?”

“Yes, of course.” He seemed to see you then, with your own token offered for your light coat. The attendant stepped away to retrieve both, leaving you be.

“I must look worse than I expected to hear no remark from her.” Harding started.

“No worse than what you’ve seen me like.” He’d seen you in a hospital gown; It almost felt like an equalizer of embarassment.

Outside, the darkness was fought back with the light of the streets. A slight chill ran over your skin, and you pulled your coat even tighter around your shoulders.

“Are you busy next Saturday, Harding?”

“Not as of yet.”

“Would you like to join me for dinner?”

“It would be my honor.”

#harding hooten x reader #x reader #harding hooten #.w

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carnalapples · 10 months

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hi bestie i have QUESTIONS!! congrats on a great year for writing ❤️ and also a great year because i got to meet you ❤️

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

Howdy Rowan and thank you!! I'm so happy we met 🫂 You’re def a big reason I kept creating this year!

1. favorite fic you wrote this year This is tough but I think… and it’s peaceful in the deep. I’m proud of it because I planned it more than most fics I write lol, and I am really happy with the end result. I think a lot of times i kind of miss the mark with what I originally intended… I do like that because I like seeing what results and what people take away from it. But with this fic, I told the story I originally intended to tell, and I was really proud of that focus.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t I went trawling in the trenches for this lol, I forget a lot of ideas when I move on from them. I had a Mass Effect longfic I started that went through all the games, and I ended up doing the same thing as I did for DA, using it as a springboard… I think I also had some Bollywood fics I never finished, and two separate DA modern AU/romcom-type things that lost steam. (One was supposed to be an exchange fic inspired by Four Weddings and a Funeral, but I couldn't get it to work in time) I also had a western AU for DA that fizzled out, so that’s fun.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year From the care and feeding of lovebirds… I think I’ve posted this before, but I really like the vibes lol:

Simran puts a disc into the player—Madonna, The Cranberries, The Goo Goo Dolls, she’s squirreling them away with a little part of each paycheck.

Maybe once a week, she’ll put on one of her old tapes, something swing, or one of her father’s songs—she listens to them for only half a minute or so before she has to switch them off, and only when she’s alone, only when she can put the hurt away for later. She can never seem to hide these things from Raj. She only has one tape from her father, and it's been in the box long enough it's beginning to gather the lightest layer of dust.

Raj comes through the door just as the soft chords of “Linger” filter into the air, dripping water into the entryway. She can imagine him standing on the mat, beads of water on his coat catching the hallway light as he slips out of his shoes, and it’s all a poem: the rolling thunder underscoring the music, the fat drops rolling down the leaves and pouring from their waxy surfaces—

—right onto her face, and she opens her eyes to find Raj grinning down at her, his dimples on full display as a trickle of water disappears down her blouse.

“Chi—“ she scolds him as she pushes his head away, “I’ll have to clean all that up—“

“I’ll mop it,” he promises, folding one hand over hers where it still rests on his face. He presses his cheek to hers and she can smell his cologne, shivers at the cold dampness of his chest pressing into her back as she lets her eyes fall shut again.

“Come here,” she gently urges, tugging at his hand until he circles the sofa and sits next to her, and then until he lies down with her, both of them hopelessly wet now and bringing the upholstery down with them.

“How was it?”

“It was good,” she whispers, enjoying the soft puffs of his breath on her skin. “I liked the passage they picked.” She came home straight after the exam, the rain discouraging her from any larks to a cafe or the library.

“I was going to stop by the bakery on the way home, but this is an even sweeter surprise,” he says in a syrupy voice. She scoffs even while her chest flushes with warmth.

“Do you want me here waiting for you every day?” she teases.

“As nice as it would be to be greeted by the moon herself every night,” and he brushes a kiss across her cheek as she laughs, “Never. I’d never want to take you from school like that. From your life.”

“You’re my life, too.”

“Not like that,” he says, his voice so fond that she feels she could do anything right now and he’d not have a word against her. “Do you want to order in for dinner?” And he’s off to the latest banal concern, and she’ll never quite get used to how he sees the world, flipping through matters of such gravity and the smallest things like flicking on a switch.

“It’s not Friday.” Can we afford it, will we be good enough to cook Friday instead—

“We can swing it,” he says. “You like Indian?”

She tosses her pillow at his head.

#thank you bestie!!#i can't believe it's been a year #my writing

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surskip · 1 year

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that pie tart thing i made yesterday was pretty good i've already eaten almost all of it . here's the recipe for it (filling and crust)

crust, (it's just pâte sablée):

250g all purpose flour

1g salt

125g cold butter cut in cubes

100g sugar

1 egg

any flavouring you want, i sometimes add a little vanilla. be warned that anything with water should be added right at the end; it promotes gluten development and that can make your crust really tough

add the flour and salt in a bowl, and then add the cold butter. mix with your hands or a pastry cutter until it looks like sand; it might seem a little dry, but that's what you want. the most important thing is to make sure it stays very cold the entire time; if you live in a warm area, you might want to put it in the fridge for a while. the crunchy flakiness of the pastry comes from the unmelted butter, so you want to make sure it's as cold as you can get it.

add the sugar and mix

add the egg and mix until everything is just combined

shape the dough into a loose disc and wrap it in plastic wrap, then put it in the fridge for around 45 minutes.

take it out, and gently roll it out, still making sure that it's nice and cold. fit it to your tart dish, and then put it back in the fridge for 15 minutes.

stab some holes in the bottom of the dough with a fork, and then fill it with tinfoil and uncooked rice/beans (or pie weights), and put it into a preheated oven at 350 fahrenheit or 180 celsius for about 7 minutes. you don't want it to be browned at this point.

!! warning !! if you're using a glass dish, please be careful as going right to the oven from the fridge will likely crack the glass. leave it on top of the stove for a few minutes until the dish is slightly below room temperature and not likely to break

remove the foil and weights, and put it back in the oven for about 7 minutes. a light gold crust is what you want here.

set it to cool and you're done for now!

filling

1 cup of apple juice or water*

50 grams sugar

little bit of salt

spices (i generally go with apple pie spices; cinnamon, ginger, cloves, nutmeg, a little cardamom, but you can do anything you want in the world)

Boil these together in a pot, while you mix these together in a cup

4 tablespoons cornstarch

2 extra tablespoons sugar

3/4 cup more of apple juice or water

this will create a slurry that thickens up the filling. leave it for a couple minutes to absorb, and then add it to the boiling mixture. it's important to note that the mixture needs to be a full rolling boil, or else the corn starch won't do much to thicken it.

after everything is starting to thicken, add

5-6 peeled apples cut into bite-sized chunks. you can use any kind you have on hand

and cook them until they're nice and soft. they will continue to soften when you put them in the oven.

*secret step if you have an excess of apples; cut up some apples with the skin on and blend them up and use them in this. the pectin in the skin will help create a nice jelly-like texture. i recommend using a sieve if you have one so you can filter out any core or seeds that might have travelled on

assembly

once both the filling and crust have cooled, pour the filling in until there's about 0.5-1 inch of space to the top of the tart. pop it back in the oven at 350 degrees, and cook for about 8 minutes, or until the tart crust has browned some more and the filling has started to set.

it will be super sloppy and go everywhere if you try to cut it when it first comes out, so wait for a while until the filling has set. you can put it in the fridge if you want but it's tasty warm.

enjoy! a little lemon zest and/or whip cream is a nice topping

#mine #food

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lastingocean · 1 year

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Manta rays are a symbol of respect and tenacity.

This is because they easily adapt to different pressures and depths in the oceans.

Oceanic manta rays have few natural predators as they are very large and fast .The main ones are large sharks and dolphins.

Manta rays have a late sexual maturity. Males become sexual mature when their discs are 4m and females when the discs are about 5m wide .

The have a long gestation period and (12-13months ) and normally have one pup. With threats such as overfishing, this makes it difficult for their populations to bounce back easily.

Their gills are highly valued in the Chinese medicine market and are used to make a tonic that boosts one’s immunity.

They are officially listed as endangered by the IUCN.

Other threats they face include:

Pollution ( manta rays are filter feeder and they may be consuming micro plastics which are known to carry persistent organic chemicals such as DDT’s)

Boat collisions

Bycatch(they get caught in fishing gear especially in shallow waters)

TikTok and instagram : @lastingoceans

#sea life #manta ray #ocean #conservation #nature #marine life #marine biology #iucn #animals #sea #sharks #underwater

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dfshoutec · 3 months

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#youtube #Irrigation Filters #Y-Type Filter #Water Disc Filter

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alphynix · 4 months

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Nicknamed the "Y animal" or "wye", Escumasia roryi is an enigmatic fossil organism known from the Late Carboniferous Mazon Creek fossil beds in Illinois, USA, dating to about 308 million years ago.

Growing up to around 15cm tall (~6") this strange soft-bodied creature was Y-shaped, with two slender "arms" on each side of an apparent mouth opening, a flattened sac-like body with another opening on one side, and a long stalk ending in an attachment disc. Some specimens have uneven arm lengths, which may indicate damage from predation.

Being only known from the exceptional preservation conditions of Mazon Creek, and with nothing else quite like it in the known fossil record, Escumasia's evolutionary relationships are still a mystery. It's been tentatively linked to cnidarians – but this doesn't really fit based on its anatomy, and little further study has been done on it since its discovery in the 1970s.

It was probably a filter feeder, living attached to the seafloor and capturing suspended organic material or small planktonic prey with its arms. The environment it inhabited was a shallow tropical marine bay, located close to the equator at the time, near a large river delta that would have made the surrounding waters rather brackish. This ecosystem was dominated by cnidarians, particularly the anemone Essexella, along with various arthropods, lobopodians, polychaete worms, molluscs, echinoderms, fish, lampreys, hagfish, and other difficult-to-classify weirdos like the famous "Tully monster" Tullimonstrum.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

Clements, Thomas, Mark Purnell, and Sarah Gabbott. "The Mazon Creek Lagerstätte: a diverse late Paleozoic ecosystem entombed within siderite concretions." Journal of the Geological Society 176.1 (2019): 1-11. https://doi.org/10.1144/jgs2018-088

Nitecki, Matthew H., and Alan Solem. "A problematic organism from the Mazon Creek (Pennsylvanian) of Illinois." Journal of Paleontology (1973): 903-907. https://www.jstor.org/stable/1303070

Wikipedia contributors. “Mazon Creek fossil beds.” Wikipedia, 10 May 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mazon_Creek_fossil_beds

#science illustration #paleontology #paleoart #palaeoblr #escumasia #incertae sedis #problematica #animalia #art #y animal #wye #actual ancient aliens

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nancyqueerler · 2 years

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Ronancetober #2 - Vampire/Werewolf

“The Vampire and the Moon“

In the dark of the forest, her back tacked to the splintery brown bark of a tree, Robin opened her mouth filled with ruby teeth and spat out a clump of red. She wiped her flannel sleeve under her likely fractured nose rimmed with blood, bruised like a peach from head to toe, lungs filtered by clay. She didn’t want to cry; she didn’t think anything good could come of it. She held all her anger and tears under her ribs, under her jaw, pinned them down until some day they would blow up and rip her apart.

But then she looked up at the stars, and she felt that the ache could be patient for a while longer.

“I don’t know how the hell am I going to explain to mom all these bruises,” she said, lifting up her shirt an inch as a gesture, then spat another red clump. “It’d be easier if I just died right here, don’tcha think?”

The moon was full, so Robin hoped she wouldn’t be taken seriously. The wet earth swamped around her legs, moonlight swirling in the rivulets, somehow smoothing the smarting in Robin’s eyes and nose. The red disc that smothered the center of her shirt, growing like a blackhole, barely hurt anymore. The trees around her seemed more like shadowy black sticks standing up vertically rather than actual trees, which saddened her; she would have liked trees to be the last thing she saw.

“Guess I won’t have to explain anything to mom after all—”

“—Hello,” said a voice, but Robin’s head was becoming deadweight for her neck. Her chin pinned itself to the dip of her clavicle. “You’re bleeding profusely.”

She froze at the sudden bronze voice, like their presence alone could kill her much faster than fate intended, but it seemed that a mouthful of blood and a hole in your stomach could grant strength during dreadful moments such as these. Robin remarked, her thoughts becoming numbed from the empty flesh, "Gee, I couldn't tell. I'd thank you for telling me, but I'm afraid I can't even raise my head—"

A spectacular finger stretched from beneath Robin's chin and brought it up, allowing her to glance up at the stranger who had so graciously informed her of her problems.

A very lovely, yet painfully familiar face greeted Robin. The pinched, pointed, milky face of Hawkins High’s princess, Nancy Wheeler, which, in Robin’s head, was also known as the world’s most perfect girl. But perhaps her blood loss was playing a trick on her, for she swore that Nancy’s irises had changed color. A much darker, terribly deep ocean blue.

She was frowning, and Robin remembered how much she hated Nancy’s frown. Her brows were tacked together in what appeared to be concern, the moon’s hand cupped her face and rubbed its thumbs into her eyes until the sparkled with shimmery particles. The rest of reality flooded out of Robin’s line of sight and zeroed in on those magnificent blues and whites, fluttering stars haloing blown pupils. Nancy made a noise that filtered through water, coming out muffled in Robin’s ears--

Were those fucking fangs I just saw?

Nancy spoke again, tossing Robin’s head side to side gently, and this time the white prongs in her mouth were more visible. They were curved, like tiny tusks corked into her gums that slipped over her lip curiously and gleamed like moonstone shot with a direct beam of light. Somehow, Robin’s heartrate spiked three more beats per minute. Whatever blood was left in her flesh ran cold, and she was suddenly aware of the blood staining Nancy’s clothes and once pink lips.

“You’ve... You’ve got—”

“Shh, don’t talk, Robin,” said Nancy, fumbling with her hands, changing to sit on her knees. Her dark eyes flickered; her tongue licked the left fang almost unsurely; then she pressed a thumb to the center of her wrist. Her brain fought itself before she quickly straddled Robin’s legs, her teeth protruding entirely in their ivory glory. Robin panicked: she did not think Nancy Wheeler would be into dying girls, let alone girls at all.

It would suck if Robin had had somewhat of a chance with her princess this entire time just for her to find out right at her deathbed.

Nancy then brought her wrist to her mouth and sunk her teeth skewers with barely any hesitation. Blood gushed from the perforations like pulp, and she unlatched her mouth from her flesh dripping red, the tusks now bloody spearheads.

Nancy said, “All right, this is a bit gross, but I’m only trying to save you, so bear with me,” and thrusted her open, leaking wrist into Robin’s mouth.

Her eyes turned to plates of horror, but she could hardly move to react: her body had gone practically limp of life force. She reluctantly tried to use her tongue to shove the princess’s limb away, but Nancy only used her other hand to tilt back Robin’s head so the blood would go down her throat easier.

When the first gulp of blood got through, Robin’s body instantly jolted as though electrocuted. Her muscles thickened around her bones, her flesh; lightning bugs crawled behind her eyes and nuzzled into the crevices of her skull; she was suddenly aware of all her teeth, biting into Nancy’s arm, draining her blood, wishing it could be injected directly into her veins. She hardly noticed how all her wounds began to seal up with imaginary stitches, as if they had never been there in the first place, even the wound in her abdomen was gone; only phantom pain rippled under her skin.

The exhilarating sensation flowed through her system like the sun was lodged between her ribs, its light snarled her bones, diffusing shots of blazes that scorched her very soul; she had never felt more alive.

But then Nancy delicately took her wrist back, placed her hand on the side of Robin’s face, and sunk her eyes into hers as if to make sure her soul had not burned entirely to ashes.

“Okay... Okay, that was good, right?” She smiled feebly, her fangs a shiny white again, rubbing her thumb beside the little wing of Robin’s ear. “That was good, Robin. God, that was good. I was so scared...” Her voice cracked at the back of her mouth, then she stood, scrubbing the blood dribbling down her arm on her trousers. “Don’t get into any more reckless shit, okay? If you remember any of this tomorrow, I’ll... I don’t know what I’ll do. But don’t report me; that’s not going to help either of us. And I’d offer to take you home, but I have no fucking idea how I’ll do it without getting caught...” she added exhaustedly, harrowingly, mostly to herself, and she frowned that damn frown that Robin still hated.

“You know what? Forget it, let’s do this.”

And suddenly air was smacking Robin’s face, rushing uphill, and she found that she was up in the air, cradled in Nancy’s surprisingly strong arms; yet she had no voice to scream. Her eyes flickered, but even blinking was difficult. All the energy she had received for Nancy’s blood had settled, present but dormant, sizzling where her injuries once used to be. Stars blurred overhead; Nancy hopped from roof to roof, accomplishing alarming leaps that tossed Robin’s heart into her throat.

Nancy looked terribly beautiful from this angle; the moon seemed to adore her as much as Robin did. Feeling as weightless as a bag of feathers in this sudden anomaly of a princess, Robin closed her eyes and let herself sink, only hoping that she would remember in the morning.

Second ficlet for ronancetober (created by @lionydoorin so go check out their legendary art right now). I think I made it too long. Apologies from the intercom.

#ronancetober #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #vampire!nancy #heron's writing

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