#go vivid bun go!

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Thinking about the Dragon Squad au again...and I think it'd be kind of cool if Reader ended up being an Amphiptere type dragon. A little more unusual...They def have one of the bigger adjustment periods to their new forms. Like all the teens are gonna adjust to gaining and losing limbs in dragon form but like...losing both your legs, having your arms go through a massive change, and gaining a tail is gonna be a hell of a time for Reader.

Especially since they now have to figure out how to move again. Flying is one thing. But all legs generally work the same: one foot in front of the other. But poor Reader is gonna be stuck wiggling until they learn how to slither right.

Not sure if batwings or the colorful feathered wings would be cooler. I like both ideas, but it's def a matter of opinion.

Ooooooo!

Amphiptere Reader is struggling to just move, let alone fly or eat or do anything. Where does their tail go? How do their wing/arms flap and keep them upright? What do they do without legs?! Poor bean is just wriggling like a little worm, eventually having Logan walk them through how to move. (He's ad gentle as he can be, teaching them how to use their underbelly scales to scooch around and pull them across surfaces, then he's showing them how to work their wing/arm muscles... Getting them to fly, however, is a hard task, considering they don't want to fall, so they're too afraid to even try...)

Reader is a good hugger and cuddler, being so warm and fluffy/scaly/feathery. The others like their pretty colors, and adore trying trying play tag with them once they know how to slither about.

The platonic yan adults who are villains are also watching the bbyies, plotting how to snag them and Logam foe themselves as their family/thunder/flock...

[ienjoywritingfilth]

The night of the Concert

K I’m new here but I hope you like this even though it’s just filthy and horny and I like it like that. Maybe you will too.

pairing: dbf!Joel x fem!reader

trope Best Friend's Dad! Joel Miller

summary: your bf breaks your heart and you turn to the only person you can. It happens to be Joel Miller, your best friend Sarah's dad.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), dubcon, oral, infidelity, p in v, absolutely filthy talk, daddy mentioned, other shit but I've forgotten.

word count: 4.3k

The day is warm and the fan spinning next to you isn't doing much to help. You and Sarah are seated on her couch, you cross legged with her foot in your lap as you paint her toenails a vivid green. 

"I think he's gonna ask me to be his girlfriend," you say with a giggle as Sarah's eyes widen. 

"Really? Holy shit that's huge," Sarah says, watching as you swipe the green Polish onto her remaining nails. "He hasn't been serious about anyone since Mariana."

Mariana is your boyfriend Jeremy's ex girlfriend. A beautiful woman with high ambitions. You can't stand her and go to great lengths to avoid her when you see her on campus. 

Sarah is your best friend of several years, ever since your first day at college when you'd both been lost on your way to Chemistry. She's the reason you're with Jeremy in the first place. She's seen you through final exams, bad frat parties and your first college boyfriend. 

"You two will have the cutest babies!" Sarah says dramatically as you wave her off. 

"Gross. I'm only twenty-two, dude."

Sarah shrugs. 

"At least when you have kids you'll have a better reason to call him daddy."

The two of you bust out into braying laughter, so loud and for so long that when her dad comes in from the backyard he's grinning at the two of you. 

"What're you two gigglin' about for so long over there?"

Sarah's dad Joel Miller is about the nicest man you've ever met. Respectful, loving, patient and funny. You love being over at their house because you love seeing such a healthy familial dynamic at work. It's no wonder Sarah is so happy all the time. You envy that. 

"Nothing dad!" Sarah says, still wiping the tears from her eyes as the two of you continue to giggle.

"Yeah, nothing," you add, holding a pillow to your face to hide the laughter. 

"Okay, well the burgers are on the grill, jokesters. Can you get your mom? Think she's upstairs in the office."

Sarah nods, pushing off the couch and heading upstairs. 

"You staying for dinner, darlin'?" Joel asks you politely from the kitchen. 

"If you and Mrs Miller don't mind," you nod, coming to walk into the kitchen. 

You don't want to go home tonight. Your parents work long hours and the house is often empty. You're often here at the Millers place, eating dinner, studying, just hanging out. They always treat you well and always invite you to stay for meals. 

"We never mind," Joel insists as he mixes up the salad. "We only mind when you call us Mister and Mrs Miller. Makes us feel old."

"You're not old," you insist with an eye roll as you absently play with one of the edges of the decorative napkins. 

"Tell that to my knees." 

You laugh at that, turning to see Sarah and her mom Angela entering. Angela wraps you in a side hug and asks about school as the four of you gather around the dinner table. 

"I'll be glad when exams are over," you say with a roll of your eyes. "They stress me out so bad." 

"You say that and you always get top marks," Sarah says as she adds the tomato to her bun. "I bet you got an A+ on your last exam." 

"Yeah," you nod shyly as you add ketchup to your plate.  

"Your parents must be mighty proud," Joel offers before a sip of beer. Angela nods in agreement. 

"Yeah, your daddy must be so proud of you," Sarah drawls as she plates her salad, winking at you. 

The Miller parents look confusedly to one another when you and Sarah can't stop giggling.

----------

Date night with Jeremy! Dress with the stripes or the jeans? Where is he taking you? Ice cream and walk on the beach.   Sundress with the polka dots!!!!!  You're a genius Sarah Miller. I owe you big time Just pay me back by making me maid of honor at your wedding What are you up to tonight?   I'm taking my mom to see the Bangles for her birthday.  Awwww. Have fun! 

You toss your phone onto your daisy-patterned coverlet and stretch. It's a beautiful Sunday afternoon and you're in the best mood. 

You take a shower, slipping into the sundress Sarah recommended. As you do your hair and makeup in front of your mirror you fantasize about what awaits you this evening with your boyfriend Jeremy. 

You've been seeing him for three months now and he's always a gentleman, always taking you for thoughtful dates. Sarah introduced you as they're both in the same Philosophy class. Sexually he's just a little too eager, too quick. There's a lot to be improved, but you're happy to keep learning together. He's so handsome and smart. You love how he looks in his glasses when he's pouring over a textbook. 

A few hours later you’re showered, smelling delicious and wearing your shortest dress. You spin in front of your mirror before affixing a delicate lace bow to the back of your hair. You feel beautiful and you sigh dreamily.

Your phone beeps and you glance down to see Jeremy’s sent you a message. You smile to yourself, swiping up and reading the text.

Hey I'm sorry I don't think this is gonna work out. My ex and I have been messaging the last little bit and we're gonna give it another shot. I just wanted to be up front with you. 

You read the text over and over several times. It takes you that long to understand what’s happening. When you do you call Sarah, but it goes straight to voicemail. Over and over. You’re panicked, tears sliding down your face. You need to see her. You need comfort.

---------------------------

You arrive at the Miller home shortly after eight, pounding on the door as you sob. You’re surprised when Joel answers the door in jeans and a t-shirt, looking like he’s just woke up from a nap with bleary eyes and his hair mussed.

“Fuck, I’m sorry to wake you up Mr. Miller,” you sniff, wiping at your wet eyes. “Is Sarah here? It’s important?”

“Are you okay?”

He must see the frantic way you’re looking around or the tears that stain your cheeks.

“Jeremy broke up with me,” you tell him without hesitation.

"I'm so sorry," Joel grimaces, rubbing at the back of his neck and the clear display of discomfort. "Fuck I wish Sarah was here for you, or even Angela. But they’re at that concert tonight."

That's right, the Bangles. 

"Fuck I'm so sorry I forgot," you say shaking your head. "I'll leave-"

"Hold on now, I'm not sure it's a great idea for you to be driving right now," Joel insists. "Why don't you come in for a glass a water and a chance to calm down a bit?"

Under normal circumstances, you would be embarrassed at taking up his time. But considering how emotionally wrung out you are right now, you simply nod and follow after him like a sad puppy. 

He sits you on the couch and joins you moments later, passing you a glass of water. You drink it shakily as Joel smooths hair hair, watching you all the while.

“I feel so embarrassed,” you tell him once the glass is drained. “Acting crazy.”

“I know what heartbreak feels like,” Joel confesses. “It can make you crazy.”

You smile shallowly and nod at him before looking at your lap. “I’m a fucking idiot for thinking he was into me.”

"That's nonsense," Joel insists, taking your chin in between his thumb and index finger. 

"It's true," you say with your voice wobbling. "I thought he loved me," 

You whimper, tears falling down your cheeks. You're surprised when Joel pulls you into his sturdy arms. 

"Aw honey," Joel says holding you and rocking you gently.

One large hand goes to cradle the back of your skull, the other around your waist. You dissolve into tears as you say the last word and Joel holds you tighter. You bring your arms up around his neck, holding him as you cry, feeling safe and protected in his muscled grip. 

"It's gonna be okay." 

"Why do people always say that? It's not going to be okay!"

You pull away from Joel sharply, burying your face in your hands. You feel as Joel's body comes to shuffle next to yours, the cushions dipping as he moves until you're thighs touch. 

"Honey---"

"Nothing is going to be okay again," you whimper, turning to face your friend’s father. Joel looks so anguished for you, his hand coming to cup your cheek gently. 

"I know it seems like that now but I promise you there's lots of men out there."

"None like Jeremy." Your face crumbles. "None that will love me like him."

Now it's you who throws yourself into Joel's arms, burying your face in his shoulder as you cry. He rocks you slowly, petting your hair as you tears soak his flannel. 

"He ain't the only guy in the world." 

"He was special. He thought I was beautiful."

"You are," Joel insists at your jaw, still rocking you gently. "You're so fucking beautiful and don't you forget it." 

His words rumble through his chest and you can't help but feel your body soften at them. You didn't realize how much you needed to hear them until right this moment. 

"Thank you Joel," you sniffle, kissing his cheek gently without thinking. 

You feel him stiffen a moment, registering what's just happened. But he doesn't pull away. He keeps holding you, arms tight. 

And the sting of Jeremy's rejection seems to dim. With Joel's arms wrapped around you it's almost like he's shielding you from all that. It makes you feel grateful, and it's not long before you’re overtaken with emotion. 

"Thank you for everything," you breathe against his jaw. "You're so understanding."

"Not a problem," Joel says in a thick voice. 

And suddenly something in the air changes as Joel loosens you in his grip. A quiet hum, a vibration, starting between the two of you. Your hand is on his hip now, mouth tilting towards his face. You see his dark eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth and back again. 

"You're always so kind to me," you whisper, not breaking his gaze. Joel's breathing deepens and you feel all resolve leave you. 

Your mouth goes to his, tentative and gentle and you attempt to kiss him. He immediately pulls back from you, eyes wide. 

"Hey whoa," he says, pushing you gently back by the shoulder. "What're you doin'?"

You don't answer. Instead your hands trail down his stomach, tripping over his belt and coming to slide over the growing bulge between his legs. 

"Something that we both want, I think." 

He hisses at the contact, trying to jerk out of your touch. 

"I don't," Joel says quickly. But he doesn't pull your hand off of where they rest over his jeans. 

You don't know if it's the rejection from Jeremy or because you're doing something so wrong, but you can't stop wanting to touch Joel. There's something intense about this grown man getting red in the face, his breathing quickening as he allows you hand to gently massage him through his pants. 

"You deserve to feel good, Joel," you whisper as your hand goes to his zipper. "Let me make you feel good."

Joel makes a murmur of protest as he watches your fingers dragging the zipper down. He seems shocked, as if his body won't obey his brain. He makes a noise of protest when you slide your hand underneath his boxers, feeling his cock twitch. 

Joel flinches when your fingertips slip under the band of his boxers and graze his bare cock. He knows it's wrong when you wrap those same fingers around his shaft, but he's so fucking hard. He can't remember the last time he was this hard.

"You gotta---" he starts, but the rest of his sentence becomes a tight hiss as you you take him out of his pants. You marvel at the size of him, your fingers unable to meet at the base when you pull him free of his boxers.

"So big."

Joel watches you gaze at his cock, muffling a groan as you tilt forward and let a bead of if saliva drop from your mouth onto the head of his twitching cock. When you give a short stroke down, coating him in your saliva he feels he has to say something. 

"I'm married," he says weakly.

"Shhh," you murmur against his bearded cheek. "Let me do this for you."

You make a whimpering groan at the sight of him, thick and the weeping. 

"Honey, I---" He's leaning back into the couch almost like he's trying to stop what's happening. 

"Shhhh," you soothe against his jaw once more. "Just enjoy it."

Your hand begins to stroke up his shaft, using his copious pre-cum to glide. He growls lowly, hips sliding back and forth. 

"Such a big cock," you murmur, watching your hand slide up his girthy length. Joel makes a strangled noise before breathing deeply. His gaze is locked on your hand watching it delicately slide along his straining cock.

Use your mouth. Use your fucking mouth. 

He hates that this thought comes to him as he watches his daughters college friend jerk him off. Hates that this will be played on loop in his mind for years to come. Hates that his marriage of twenty three years is about to be flushed away for twenty minutes of pleasure. 

But he doesn't hate it enough to stop. 

"This...Mmmm... Shouldn't be doing this," Joel groans. You squeeze the tip and his head falls back against the sofa. "Fuck, you gotta stop-"

But even as he says this, Joel's hips are jutting forward, urging your palm to slide over his length over and over. 

"You're such a good man, Joel. You deserve this," you murmur against his ear, tongue coming to gently trace the lobe. "You deserve to feel good." 

Joel watches your thumb circle the rosy head of his cock and he shudders. Pre-cum starts at the tip, beading there enticingly. 

"You deserve to come," your warm breath fans against his neck. "Don't you?"

His head jerks back against the couch, eyes slamming shut as his cock twitches in your hand. You can see him relenting, his body twitching. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," Joel pants, thrusting his cock between your fingers. 

"You should.” Your mouth begins sponging kisses to the underside of his jaw. "Keep going. Lemme make you come." 

Your wrist snaps as you jerk him off faster, the wet sounds of his flesh turning you on even more. You wonder if he'll fuck you if you try to mount him. 

"This is so fuckin' wrong," Joel pants, his hips thrusting harshly against your palm. He's grunting, his hips off the couch as he fucks into your hands. 

He's just saying words, no thought behind them. It's wrong but he doesn't fucking care. All he cares about is the steadily building orgasm that you're bringing forth with every twist of your wrist. 

Your eyes are fixed on his face, watching as Joel's mouth goes slack and his eyes crack open, trained on your hand around his cock. 

"Want more, Joel?" You purr against his jaw. "My mouth?" 

Joel breathes shallowly, eyes going from his cock to your mouth over and over. 

Your hand slides quicker and Joel gives a strangled groan when your head lowers. You tilt your face, meeting his gaze as your tongue comes out to lick the head of his cock long and slow. Joel nearly jumps out of his skin. 

"Fuck," Joel grunts, his cock twitching. He breathes shakily before his eyes seem to darken. "Do it again."

You flick your tongue against the mushroom head before suckling gently at the tip. Joel's eyes roll back as you do this, tasting the sweet tang of his precum.  

You pull off, lower lip grazing the head of his bobbing length. You watch as he grits his teeth and his eyes find yours. 

"You wanna fuck my mouth, Joel?"

It's like he remembers who you are and what this is because you see regret cross his features. 

"N-no," Joel grits out with a wild flail of his head. "Gone far enough. This is---"

He's denying it, trying so hard to move back from you but you know he's close, the head of his cock is mauve and it twitches in your grip.  

"Would feel so good," you croon, tongue starting to circle the bulbous head once more. Joel is groaning, his hands in tight fists at his side. "I know you wanna fuck my mouth."

Joel is trying so hard not to give in. He tries to remind himself that you're his daughter’s friend, that he's happily married, that he isn't this kind of guy. But you’re so fucking sexy right now, desperate for his cock in a way his wife hasn't been for years. 

You swallow the first inch of him and he groans low and loud, his hips twitching. You pull him out slowly before you glance up at him, the throbbing head of his cock slick against your wet lower lip. 

"When's the last time you fucked someone's mouth, Joel?" You tease, and he sees the mirth in your eyes when he all but whimpers in reply. 

Joel's head is thrown back, a ragged sigh escaping him. He shouldn't want this, he shouldn't let you keep going.  

But then you take the length of him in your mouth, almost gagging at the thickness of him, and all coherent thought leaves him. 

You bob up and down on his length, eyes closing in bliss. Joel is carding his hands through your hair as you suck him off. 

"Fuck, take it deeper," he rumbles, and you feel his large palm on the back of your head, pushing. "Swallow it." 

"Yeash shur," you manage through a mouthful of cock.  

Joel can't hold back, he starts to thrust up into your throat, grunting as he fucks it. You hold onto his thighs, eyes watering as the bulbous head slips further and further. 

When you sputter you feel Joel come back to himself, gripping you by the back of your heck and pulling you off of him. You whine in protest as you sit back up, the sight of Joel's hard cock, still glossy with your saliva between you. 

“You need to stop.”

Joel watches transfixed as go to a stand beside the couch between his parted legs. He makes a sound almost pained as he watches you slide your fingers under your dress, tugging down and stepping out of your lace panties.

He just stays rigid when you crawl into his lap. You slide your wet slit along his cock, feeling as sharp huffs of air escape him. You feel heavy with power, your mouth going to his ear. 

"When's the last time you fucked college pussy, Joel?"

You smile when you hear the strangled sound escape him. You can see he's soaked with pre-cum, a shiny sticky collection wetting the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft. His eyes are stuck on the seam of your pussy teasing the head of his cock.

"It's okay to like it," you promise him. "It's okay to want this."

"I wanna put it in," Joel grunts. 

Your mouth is at his ear, warm and husky.

“Put it in.”

Joel groans and you feel his thick fingers start to squeeze your hips. He's not inside you yet, but he's so thick and warm against your pussy lips. He’s hypnotized, urging your pussy down, desperate to feed his cock into you.

“I need it," he whispers in a daze.

"You can have it," you encourage, breathlessly as you watch him grip his cock and guide it to your waiting hole.

"This is so fucking bad," Joel groans, half aroused, half disgusted with himself as he begins to feed his cock into your twitching pussy.  

You grin, fingers digging into his shoulders when the bulbous head breeches your entrance.

“Tell me to stop,” he almost begs but you shake your head.

“You deserve this,” you say. “Deserve to fuck my tight pussy.”

You’re married. You have a kid. This is fucking wrong.

All those worries are gone the second the head of his cock feels the velvet clench of your cunt. He can’t look away from where you’re both connected. Without warning he sheaths himself deeply, watching your brows crumple as you take him to the hilt. Joel watches your pussy swallowing his cock, knowing how fucking wrong it is and hating how he has no intention of stopping.

"I fuckin’ deserve this," he pants out, watching your tits bounce as you slide along his length. You ride him well, experienced, full of energy. He can’t remember the last time Angela rode him like this, like his cock was everything.

“Yes you fucking do,” you groan out, bouncing in his lap. He grips you tightly, fucking into you like you’re a human flesh-light.

He does deserve this. He works hard, he’s a good father, a loving husband. He’s never done anything like this before. Would never dream of fucking a girl who’s been over at his house for months, who’s never appealed to him like this until this very moment. A girl who’s tits jump with every thrust of his cock, whose wet mouth forms a lurid ‘O’ when he hits a particularly good spot. He deserves to have you ride him here in his house, a desperate, needy fuck.

Joel feels everything in him tightening as he watches you peel the dress off your body, tossing it over your shoulder and he sees you’ve forgone a bra this evening, letting the rhythmic slap of his cock up into you make them jiggle enticingly. You sit there naked, riding his cock with no shame or hesitation.

“You feel so good,” you tell him through a groan, your eyes falling shut.

He feels his balls contract when you start to cup your breasts, pinching the nipples as your head falls back. Joel can’t help but dart forward, latching onto your breast and laving at the taut nipple. You moan as he continues to fuck you, pausing when he grips your wrist.

“Make yourself cum,” He orders, forcing your hand between your legs. “Soak me.”

You nod doing as he says, rubbing your swollen clit for barely any time at all before you shuddering.

“Gonna cum,” you moan, head tilting back once more.

Your hands fly behind you, gripping onto his knees. Joel can see everything, see’s how your clit rubs against his shaft and your thighs shake.

"Fuckin' do it sweetheart," he croaks. "Fuckin' soak my cock."

He holds your hips again, entranced at how you slide up and down him, your arousal seeping down into the curled hairs at the base of his cock as you cum. He watches all of this in amazement, his breathing shallow and rapid.

You pull yourself back, your pussy fucking drenched as you slowly continue to pump yourself up and down on him. He’s still so hard, aching and desperate for release. He casts a feral smile at you.

“Keep fuckin’ yourself on it,” he tells you.

 You nod and he watches your plump mouth curl into a smile.

"You wanna fuck me full of your cum, daddy?"  

Without warning Joel suddenly goes rigid.

You think he's going to come but instead he's red-faced and gripping your waist. He pulls you off of him, his cock still hard and throbbing, slick from your earlier release. He shakes his head, panting.

"Fuck. No. We gotta stop."

"But---"

"This ain't right," Joel insists, tucking himself still hard back into his jeans with shaking fingers as you arch up. 

"But I want to."

"And if you keep going I'm not gonna be able to stop you," Joel lets out a shaky laugh, unsmiling as he tilts down to grab your dress. He passes it to you politely averting his eyes; as if this belated gesture means anything after all he’s done and seen. You frown.  

"Joel."

"I'm married and you're Sarah's friend. If that wasn't enough, I'm also two decades older than you."

"I like older men," you insist, trying to swing your thigh over his. Joel stops you, hand pressing you back gently. 

"You're too young to know what you want," Joel says sharply. 

"That's not true."

Joel surveys your face for a moment, concern softening the edges of his expression. 

"You just got dumped by the boy you love. You’re not thinking properly."

"No," you shake your head. "That's not it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," you say, hands reaching for his zipper again. "I just want this."

Joel shakes his head gently, fingers gripping your wrist and pulling you off of him firmly. 

"Honey you gotta stop," he says, taking your hand and placing it back in your lap. "This ain't you." 

You don't like how Joel is looking at you, like he's peeling your skin from your body, peering in to see what he shouldn't. 

"I could make you feel so good," you promise him, hand coming to palm him through his jeans once more. "Our little secret."

You see his resolve waver before his hand grabs your wrist, pulling you off of him.  He's looking at you with concern, with compassion. With pity. It makes the sting of his rejection more potent. You pull on your dress now, feeling the first pangs of humiliation starting.

"You need to go, honey. Right now." 

Now that the moment is sobering you feel a flash of panic.

"Are you gonna tell Sarah?"

"No." Joel shakes his head. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. But I think maybe you shouldn't come around here for the next little bit." 

"I understand," you say staggering to a stand. He walks you to the door in awkward silence. He opens the door and then he finally speaks.

"You are a beautiful, smart woman. Don't let one idiot make you forget." 

You eyes grow misty and you give a shallow nod before turning. 

"Thank you, Joel."

[heauxvibez]

Tension

warning: Smut (+18)

She currently served as a physical therapist for the WWE, her work quickly capturing the attention of the towering 6 ft 3 wrestler. From the moment their eyes met, a spark ignited. Vivid fantasies consumed his mind and he imagined himself held captive in the curves of her thick thighs, her hands helplessly pinned above her head while she begged for his touch.

Although his thoughts of her were lustful, genuine feelings lingered below. Roman's approach, however, focused on the pursuit of feeling her warm, wet walls around him.

Reclining on the table he had specifically ordered for these sessions, Roman's anticipation ate him up as he awaited her arrival. His hamstring troubles had forced him to not perform at the best of his abilities, he was looking forward to the relief her skilled hands would bring to his aching muscles.

As he mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, he was interrupted by her entrance into the room. He watched her appreciatively, taking in the sight of her pretty, black curls claw-clipped into a wild bun, much like his. Soft tendrils of hair dangled near her sideburns. She had done a quick wash and go and was proud of herself for making it look as good as it did.

She exuded a quiet confidence, her small frame enveloped by the vibrant hues of her floral scrubs.

"Thanks again for coming to my house to do this. I know today was your day off," he acknowledged, his voice portraying a hint of gratitude tinged with longing.

"No, it's fine. I didn't have anything better to do," she replied with a soft smile and a shrug. Honestly, if anyone else had asked her to do so, she would’ve immediately denied. But, in this case, every fiber of her being yearned for his presence. She found herself captivated by him, his presence easily invoking a mix of emotions that she struggled to contain.

He carefully placed his phone on the table and flipped onto his stomach. He crossed one arm over the other and laid his head comfortably on top of his arms.

Each time he felt her touch, it felt like electric shocks hummed through his veins. He often found himself battling the urge to pull her close, taken over by the need to explore every single part of her body.

"You know, just because you're here to work doesn't mean you have to wear those little flowery scrubs." he teased, a playful grin dancing on his lips.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and amusement, a nervous laugh slipping past her lips as she dispensed a dollop of oil into her palms, rubbing them together with practiced ease.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of self-consciousness as she prepared to begin.

As her hands glided up the smooth fabric of his basketball shorts, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in his muscles. She was sure she was just as tense as him though. But despite her nerves, she focused intently on her task, determined to ease his discomfort.

With each skilled movement of her hands, soft groans of pain and pleasure slipped from him as she melted his knots away.

Her arousal was coursing through her veins, her touch both tender and purposeful. Just touching him was leaving her breathless.

By the time she finished working on his legs, she found herself soaked, her mind reeling from the intoxicating mix of his muted groans and the scent of his skin. She found it almost impossible to resist him.

As he rose from the table, she couldn't help but admire the newfound grace in his movements, the progress they had made together over the past weeks was tremendous. His praise washed over her like a wave, filling her with a pride and accomplishment she hadn't known before.

"Your hands are like magic," he murmured appreciatively with a small grip on her shoulder. His touch sent a shiver down her spine.

"Thanks," she replied softly, another nervous giggle bubbling up from within her as she gathered her belongings, almost running away from the tension between them.

With a final glance, she turned and made her way toward the stairs, the weight of his gaze lingering on her like a caress. As she disappeared from view, she couldn't shake the feeling that it would somehow, someway be a while before she would start heading home.

She found herself lost in the sensual melody of "Earned It" by The Weeknd as she placed the massage oils in the cabinet. She had realized she'd been over to his house a lot more often to treat him, so she figured why not keep them here to maintain his plan of care.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but fuss over the loose tendrils of hair, each rebellious strand mocking her efforts. The bobby pins seemed to have a mind of their own, failing to secure the unruly locks in place.

With a heavy sigh, she rested her hands on the cool marble countertop, feeling the weight of frustration settle upon her shoulders. The pressure mounted as she attempted to tame her hair, her fingers fumbling with the stubborn strands.

She paused to catch her breath, dipping her head down and closing her eyes, searching for any sign of composure amidst the sexual tension. Was it truly the bobby pins that troubled her, or was she just frustrated? Frustrated with the way the Samoan man was engraved in her mind.

As she continues to fight her silent battle in front of the mirror. Roman had other plans..

Her heart skipped a beat as strong arms encircled her waist from behind, pulling her into an unexpected embrace. Keeping her eyes closed, she threw her head back, trying to figure out if this was just a figment of her imagination or reality.

"Roman, wait..." she murmured, attempting to break free from his grasp, but his hold remained firm, a silent insistence that she stay.

"Let's not pretend that you don't want me," he interjected with a sly grin, his hands venturing beneath her shirt to explore the contours of her stomach.

She finally opened her eyes, meeting his. The weight of his gaze put her in a trance.

Her breath hitched as he turned her to face him. With trembling hands, she traced a tentative path down his now bare chest, each touch eliciting a low groan of pleasure from him. Pressed against the cool surface of the sink, her senses heightened by the heady scent of his cologne and the warmth of his skin against hers.

With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, she slid his shorts down, her fingers lingering over the tantalizing curve of his hips. As she began to stroke him, his hips moved in sync with her rhythm. The soft caress of her hand had him weak-kneed.

Her pussy grew wetter with each stroke, she couldn't help but softly moan at his easy submission. With a sense of power she had never known before, she brought him to the brink of release, his ragged breaths and whispered pleas urging her on.

“Don’t stop, please,” he whimpered with his eyes locked in on her own. His hands reach behind her, placing them on the counter, knuckles almost turned white at the grip while his precum dripped down her fingers and into her palm. She literally had him in the palm of her hands melting like chocolate.

“Mmm, but you don’t want to finish like this daddy. I know you don’t..,” she moaned while slowing down her strokes. He smirked and so did she, they knew exactly how to drive each other wild.

He grabbed her hand and took her finger into his mouth tasting himself, his precum lathering his tongue. He moaned softly staring deeply into her eyes as he stuck his tongue out and danced it around her fingers.

A moaned escaped her throat as she watched. She had never seen something so sexy in her life and the fact that he was staring into her soul while doing so was enough to make her juices slowly drip past her lips and down her thighs.

He chuckled darkly as he watched her fall into a trance and turned her around to face the mirror. With a hunger, he stripped away her scrubs, revealing the full extent of her beauty in the soft glow of the bathroom light. As he used his teeth to remove her panties, she gasped at the soft drag of the lace against her smooth skin, her body thrumming as he slid off the thin piece of clothing.

With each touch, each caress, she felt herself unraveling in his arms, her desire for him reaching a fever pitch. As he rid her of her bra, she surrendered herself completely to the moment, her body trembling with pleasure as they got lost in each other.

As his hands explored her torso, she basked in his touch, each caress leaving trails of goosebumps.

When he eased himself inside her, she couldn't help but gasp at his girth. It was as if every nerve ending in her body had come alive. His size stretched her in a way that both thrilled and challenged her, almost pushing her over the edge with each thrust.

Roman paused, his movements becoming slow and deliberate. His gaze, dark with desire, bore into hers through the mirror. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the sight of her was so fulfilling.

"Damn, girl," he murmured huskily as he began to move, his hips setting a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of her heart. His thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over her, building the tension between them to an almost unbearable intensity.

With every touch, every stroke, he worshipped her body as if it were a precious work of art, his hands exploring every curve with a reverence that made her heart swell. And when he finally wrapped his fingers around her throat, applying just enough pressure to send her into a state of euphoria, she couldn't help but whimper.

"Say my name, baby," he growled, his voice a rough whisper.

And as she complied, her voice barely a breathless murmur, he rewarded her with a slow, sensuous kiss behind her ear that left her head spinning and her body aching for more.

"Louder," he demanded, his fingers teasing her clit with a skill that bordered on torture. And as she cried out his name,

"Daddy!" her voice echoed in the bathroom, he knew that he had finally broken through her defenses, unleashing a raw passion.

Their bodies moved together in a symphony, sounded like one too. Her pussy gushed, making the sweetest sound. The wettest sound.

His middle finger continued to move in mind-numbing circles. Her body wanted to crumble forward but he held her throat with a tight grip, a grip that kept her stable.

"Give me my nut baby, it's mine. I want it over my dick.", he whispered behind her ear, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder while he gave her some not-so-gentle strokes.

With him hitting her g-spot and rubbing on her clit, she felt her climax approaching. Her breathes with getting shorter, her curls were sticking to her forhead, and this man was tearing her up.

And when she finally reached her peak, her release crashed over her. He followed close behind, his own climax tearing through him with a force that left him gripping onto her body for dear life.

They stood together in the quiet, their breaths echoing throughout the room. She leaned into his embrace, their bodies entwined, the lingering heat between them melting into a shared warmth as they savored the aftermath.

His lips trailed feather-light kisses along her neck, before pulling away. A soft whimper escaped her lips at the loss, a smile forming as their eyes locked silently.

With a turn, she reached for him again, her arms enveloping his neck, drawing him into an embrace. Their lips met in a deep kiss.

As they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the stillness, he tenderly brushed his thumb against her parted lips.

"How about we go another round, baby girl," he murmured, his voice low and husky. She smiled, feeling her core tingle once more.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that." she hummed in agreement, her voice tinged with anticipation as she leaned in closer to him.

---------------------------------------------

Hope y'all liked this! Please excuse any and all mistakessss, thanks!!! lololol

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @kumapassion @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @mzv11 @wrestlingprincess80

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please direct message me! Sometimes people's requests to be added get lost in my mentions and it's hard for me to find them, so please please please don't be shy!

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

remus x shy!reader (part 5)

author: sj

warnings: fluff; BARELY sexual content if you really squint; reader is in hufflepuff; uses she/her pronouns; not edited

next and probably last part will be the other boys finding out !!!!! :)

masterlist

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

---

remus felt like he was going to explode. if he didn't kiss you he was going to lose his mind. it all started the week after you had gone on that first date. sirius had made the comment about you snogging someone and then all of a sudden, all he could think about was your lips.

he had woken up from a very vivid dream about your lips and how soft they would be, a warm, fluttery feeling floating in his chest, heart beating wildly while your lips started moving down towards his chest. he could feel you light laugh giggling against his neck while you smiled, moving your way down. remus had woken with a start in the middle of the night, abruptly realizing that you kissing his neck wasn't real.

the next day in class, all he could think about was your lips, moving their way across his body mapping it. he also had to keep readjusting his pants at the thought of you and it only got worse when he had to look at you, eyes drawing towards your lips every time he looked at you.

not only did he struggle with this for a week, but it was also getting close to the full moon and remus was going to cry if he didn't get to kiss you and now, which led to now.

"hey rem!" you exclaimed, eyes brightening and smile getting bigger as you realized he was in the common room, curiously without the other boys. he loved the way you weren't shy around him anymore. the unguarded way that you let your smile shine when talking to him.

"hi bun." he said back, arms wrapping around you as you immediately wrapped yourself around him. you sighed into his touch. nothing compared to being wrapped in your favorite person's embrace. hugs were always welcome with you and your friends, but there's something about remus' hugs that made you all warm inside, melting all your insecurities away and replacing them with warm confidence.

"love, can we talk?" your heart immediately drops at his words, anxiety creeping up into your throat.

"yeah? whats wrong rem?" you ask, pulling away from him slightly to look up into his face.

"nothings wrong love. i just... can't do it anymore." your heart is increasing at this point, thinking he's going to tell you that he's in love with someone. of course he is, why wouldn't he be in love with someone, he's one of the best men you've ever met. or he's uncomfortable with how touchy you are with him. you immediately start panicking.

"what do you mean?" remus can see the panic swirling in your face and how your face has significantly drained of color.

"no, no, bun. i just can't stop pretending i don't have feelings for you. i'm tired of not telling you how beautiful you are, how i want to tell everyone you're mine, and how i just so desperately want to kiss you." remus rushes out, making sure that you don't think he is trying to get rid of you, if anything he just wants more of you.

you stare at his eyes, brain trying to process the information that just came into your ears. you felt your heart beating extra hard, the words you had always dreamed of hearing coming out of remus' mouth not registering in your brain.

"what?" you asked.

"i like you, bun. and if you don't feel the same, we can just move on, but if you do, please let me kiss you." you can hear yourself audibly swallow.

"but rem. i don't... i've never kissed anyone. what if i don't it right?" you whisper, cringing at how pathetic it sounds coming out. remus' eyes widen and a small smirk lifts his lips.

"bun, you couldn't be anymore perfect if you tried. kissing will come naturally to you. plus a little practice has never hurt anyone." he smirks, his eyes looking between yours and going down to your lips. you smiled at his response and tilted your face up towards his. his met yours eagerly and gently, causing your knees to weaken. his big hands came up to your face and cupped your cheeks and after a minute of savoring the moment, he pulled away and your eyes opened to see his gleaming back at you.

"you are the sweetest thing in my life, bun." all you could do was grin back, heat creeping up to your face.

[reztoru]

tw / cw : Spoilers if you're not caught up in the manga!!!! Only fluff here

a/n : my contribution to reunion fics. missed my honey bun. </3

w/c : 792

Nothing could have prepared you for Satoru walking through your doors in the dead of night. Here you are, curled up on the couch with a tub of ice cream and teary eyes. You froze mid bite. With the spoon halfway to your mouth. Blinking, once, twice. Rubbing your eyes as he makes his way over to you.

"Thought you'd be a little more excited to see me."

You are; if he's real that is. You're not entirely convinced that he's in front of you. Thus you reach out with a shaky hand, and poke his cheek. The breath you let out is loud; you hadn't even realized you were holding it in.

"it's you," you whisper.

"It's me." Satoru gives you a lopsided smile.

You unravel yourself from your spot. Reaching timidly out to him again, repeating your words over and over. "it's you, it's you." And they slowly become a little incoherent as they morph into quiet sobs. He doesn't waste another second and scoops you into his arms.

What is there to say? Where do you even start?

"We can talk later." He mumbles, as if he knows.

You nod into his neck, burying yourself as far as you can go. Mumbling delicate words, "I missed you."

And you're not sure how reunions between lovers are supposed to go but you had thought that it would be grand and dramatic. Tears flooding the room, and loud wails filling up the spaces the salty waters couldn't reach.

This reunion is anything but loud. It's quiet Filled with shock and grief. There's nothing particularly grand about it. And the wails you had thought were going to come are breathless, trapped in your throat.

It takes a moment before he peels away from you. He bears a huge grin as he holds out a single flower — it's actually a weed. And it feels like for the first time in years, you smile. You chuckle, ready to break the news.

"That's a weed, pretty boy."

"Huh? I thought it was a flower."

You let out a breathy laugh. Taking the little weed into your hands. Eyes gazing on it tenderly as you do, "it's the thought that counts, I suppose."

"I was trying to be romantic. Hoped I could win your heart back if I picked you a bouquet on the way home."

"The bar is low, huh?" You nudge your nose against his cheek, "thank you."

Maybe your love is akin to the little weed he picked up. Unexpected, and with its own sense of beauty. Resilient in its pursuit to survive. Persistent and a little annoying. But through the right eyes they're just as beautiful as the moon flowers they find themselves sprouting next to.

"I missed you," he finally says.

And he sounds a little small; defeated. Nothing like the almighty image he carries. But it's only in the darkness does this side come out — the only time that's reserved for you.

You've found that nights are when lovers meet, because bustling life and busy schedules hold them apart. Or in this case; a box.

The sun tells them, no, the time is not now. But the moon, it welcomes them with open arms, offering the showers of domesticity they've come to enjoy.

This is where Satoru comes to meet you, in the space you've made home. It's only deep into the night where your love bursts into a vivid red glow. It's when he dances with you in your whispered laugh. And when he smiles as you give him a twirl, and it's as he takes you for a dip does his heart kiss yours.

The love you share shimmies around, hopping on its feet in the music you both make. And it simmers when you pull him in to rest against you. Continuing on with a soft sway to the white noise that lingers.

This is an intimacy that’s reserved for when souls collide in these cream coloured rooms. Where the walls are covered in memories and filled with pointless things. It’s where you'll find voices are barely above a soft murmur; scared they'll wake up the world.

And as the silence engulfs you, neither of you really mind. Truthfully, there’s nothing to say, or rather there’s nothing that hasn’t been said. Because even as still as the silence presents itself, it’s heavy and already carries that of which has been spoken before — and will be again.

And perhaps no words really need to be spoken when lovers reunite. The tenderness of touches speak for themselves. And as you both dance in this dimly lit room, you decide to end the night with the words that you've been waiting to say for a while now.

"Welcome home, my love."

[fallingforyouforeverr]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞

ty to @casualvanilla for this idea

author's note: tysm for all the requests guys! sorry that it's taking so long but I'm having rlly bad writers block rn. also, i literally hate the ending of this sm but i couldn't think of how else to finish it.

warnings: none (600+ words)

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

Work had been hectic lately, for both you and George, so when he proposed putting everything aside and spending the night together, just the two of you with no distractions, you were more than happy to oblige.

You were in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on your makeup, when George appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin against your shoulder.

"You almost ready?" He asked, pressing a quick kiss to your neck.

You nodded in response, setting down your brushes and turning to face him with a smile. Leaning up on your toes, you peppered kisses across his face, feeling him flush beneath your lips. When you pulled away, his pale skin was scattered with vivid red lipstick stains. Giggles spill from your mouth, causing George to scrunch his face in confusion. Wordlessly, you moved out the way of the mirror, letting him see the marks you left.

"Y/n! Oh my god!" He gasped, swatting playfully at your shoulder, "Get this off me right now!"

His reaction just made you laugh harder. The blond man frowned, trying to be annoyed with you but he couldn't help but laugh with you. Once you had calmed down you complied, grabbing some makeup remover and cotton pads then gently wiping his face clean.

"There you go, handsome as ever."

"I better be," he grumbled, "now we better go or we'll be late."

—♡—

"I'm sooo full" you groaned, throwing yourself face down on the bed.

George chuckled, entering the bedroom after you. "Well, you shouldn't have ordered dessert then love."

You pouted in response, "but it was so good though."

He nodded in agreement, sitting next to you on the bed and taking his shoes off. "You gonna sleep like that?"

Standing back up, you took of your shoes and placed them next to George's. You went to unzip your dress, before realising that you couldn't reach. Before you even had to ask him, you felt the warmth of George's hand on your back as he pulled your zip down and moved back to allow you to step out of the fabric.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" You asked, even though you already knew the answer. He told you that you could, so you went to grab it from the drawer then went to the bathroom so you could finish getting ready for bed

A few minutes later, you emerged out of the bathroom, with your skincare complete and hair tied up into a messy bun. You noticed George had changed too, as he was now in sweatpants and a clean shirt. Since it was still quite early, you two had decided to watch a movie, so he was currently lying in bed, looking on the tv for something to watch.

"Hey," he smiled at you. "What do you wanna watch?"

You grinned cheekily back at him. "Um, how about... w-"

"Don't you dare say wild child!"

"Why not?"

George rolled his eyes at your dramatic pout, but he couldn't suppress his smile. "We always watch that movie," he pointed out.

"Because it's good!" You argued, grabbing the remote from him and searching it up on Netflix

He just shook his head with a laugh, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his side. Shuffling slightly to rest your head on his chest, you pressed play on the movie.

Before long, George heard soft snores and looked down to see you asleep. He gently kissed your forehead before turning the tv off, drawing you closer and closing his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep himself.

[shibaraki]

MAYBE IT’S A SIGN ┊ YAMADA HIZASHI

tags: GN reader, no quirk au, meet-cute, strangers to lovers, people watching, mic is fluent in JSL, pining, mutual attraction, flirting, fluff as promised !!!

wc: 1.7K

You aren’t afraid to admit that your life is a little mundane.

Rather than resent it you get by with the little wonders. The path is much the same but never the people, and your favourite part of the day is the train journey home. A precious twenty minutes when you can sit and watch the lives unfold around you. It’s during this time that you notice him.

You’re familiar with the regular passengers—not personally, rather, they’ve taken up space in your memory, each dedicated an intricate and fabricated backstory to pass the time. This new regular is definitely somebody you’d remember. Because he’s, well.

He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Tall and lean, decently thick arms and a trim waist often hidden beneath a signature leather jacket. Bulky headphones around his neck. A trimmed moustache and vivid green eyes peering over red rimmed glasses. Waist length blond hair, like spun gold in the train cars cheap fluorescence, never worn in the same style. You’ve seen it draped around his shoulders, a sleek updo, half down, and pulled back into a braided ponytail that mimics a mohawk.

Today it has been haphazardly shoved into a messy bun, wisps falling to frame his face as he smiles at his phone. Your heart beats a little faster at the soft sight. He’s sitting closer than usual, driven deeper into the carriage by the lack of seating; close enough to catch a glimpse at the music note sticker on his phone case and the chipped red paint on his nails. Before he can look up and catch your inquisitive stare you turn it toward the window, watching the rivulets of rainwater race in the wind as the cityscape passes by.

Thoughts wander, veering toward the faint shadows under his eyes. You’ve theorised plenty and settled on him being a musician of sorts. Piano or a guitar judging by his fingers. Guitarist would suit his aesthetic, but you find the image of him as a pianist strangely romantic.

As the train rushes through a dark tunnel you’re faced with your reflection, and his own in the background. For a split second you’re certain that your eyes meet. Then the darkness vanishes, and you squint against the pale eventide light.

Your close friends have heard a lot about Train Guy. They’ve teased you to no end, finding amusement in your lack of action. Writing a plotline for a beautiful stranger might be slightly piteous but it’s all you’re going to get. It’s not like you were ever going to do anything about your attraction.

You slump against the back of your chair and fiddle with the zip on your jacket, soaking up the heated murmurings between a couple from across the carriage. Train Guy seemed the chatty type, though he always hung up whoever he was on call to as he boarded you’d caught an english word or two. They sounded natural in his mouth—a fluent accent that inferred plenty of practice. You wanted to hear him speak more, but after the doors are closed silence is sternly expected.

As your thoughts drift, so does your attention. Your heart leaps to your throat. Train Guy is reclined comfortably, baring the pale column of his throat as he keeps an ear tucked against his left headphone speaker, bouncing his leg to a tune you’re not privy to. What grips you is the suggestion of a smile hanging on his lips as he looks back at you. It’s more hesitant than it is coy. Almost as though he might be just as unsure about his footing as you.

Pointedly, he nods in the direction of the bickering couple. His mouth downturns into an exaggerated grimace, tugging at the collar of his shirt. You laugh and quickly smother the sound with your hand, heat crawling up your neck as a nearby elderly man peers up.

Train Guy’s eyes are softer now. There’s a shallow dimple by the right corner of his mouth that deepens with his grin. He sits up straighter when you smile back and butterflies hatch in your stomach. You feel their paper thin wings beat behind your ribs. Holding his hands out to draw your attention you watch his pointer fingers stop a few inches apart and bend toward one another.

At your confused frown he down it again, this time mouthing the word ‘hello’. Then he points at his chest. He silently sounds out the name ‘Ya-ma-da’ in time with his movements. His name. Your lips part in soft surprise. Mirroring the initial position of his hands, you cautiously repeat the motion, fingers bending inward. It’s JSL—and the sign quite literally mimics the image of two people bowed in greeting.

The train creaks as it slows in preparation to approach the next stop. Disappointment hangs in the air. He shuffles in his seat, getting ready to stand. He flashes you an encouraging thumbs up, eyes smiling over those yellow tinted glasses. Then his forefinger uncurls once more, forming an upside down ‘L’ shape. He draws his hand in an arc across his face and lies the opposite palm flat, swiping flat across it.

You pout after him as he gets to his feet, this time without clarifying what he’d said. He simply shucks his leather jacket closer to his chest, pulls his headphones over his head—concealing the pink blush staining his ears—and waves as the doors open.

A gust of wind plumes into the enclosed space, petrichor briefly filling your senses. Your neck turns at an awkward angle just to catch a final glimpse in the crowd as the train pulls away.

The first thing you do upon arriving home is search up basic signs. It pulls up a website with dedicated categories; signs for greetings, for navigating daily life, for family and friends. Then, as you scroll further, your mouse hovers over the embedded images for flirtatious signs. Your living room takes on a hazy, mauve rose glow, perhaps from all the blood rushing to your brain.

Unless you are misremembering, Train Guy—Yamada, had called you beautiful.

The knowledge sits restlessly with you. An amalgam of giddiness and impatience bursts through your body like a babbling brook. This sort of thing never happens to you.

You wanted to see him again. To somehow reciprocate his efforts to connect with you in the pervading silence of that train car. Clicking back on the screen, you open up the menu bar and find fingerspelling. You repeat the motions, signing out your name until fatigue from the work day wears on your bones.

The next morning starts with vigor. Your excitement only seems to make the hours drag longer, each slower than the last. Coworkers remark on your eagerness to leave—making playful comments about a new secret lover, only to be spurred on by the sheepish expression on your face.

There is no lover to speak of, not yet. Just a pretty stranger who may or may not be a musician with which you share part of your journey home.

Yamada is there when you board, already perked up and waiting. His hair is braided today, draped effortlessly over his shoulder. You immediately duck your chin to hide a smile, teeth gnawing your inner cheek as you take the spot across from him.

A hush falls over the passengers when you hear the doors click shut. You glimpse up through your lashes. Yamada leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cheek resting in his palm. Anticipation swoops through your belly. You can’t help a nervous glance at the people around you as you sign hello to him.

Before he can respond, your finger points to your chest. Something flashes in Yamada’s eyes, now raptly watching while you sign out your name. Brighter still the instant you point at him, arc your forefinger and thumb across your face, and wipe across the opposite palm.

Beautiful.

Pink looks good on him, you think. Oscillating between flustered and frustrated, Yamada’s hands clench and unclench in his lap, seemingly agitated that he can’t use his words. You exhale a long held breath as he pats down his jacket pockets, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth while he types.

Once he finishes he leans across the gap to offer you the phone. You grip the seat handle and stretch to take it, static zipping down your spine when your fingers brush. Written up on the open notes app is:

Do you want to get off at my stop so I can take you out for coffee? YEAH! or no :-(

You huff a laugh through your nose, bringing the screen close to your front and typing your reply with a furtive glance as if it were a big secret just between the two of you.

YEAH! ✔️ I’d love to.

Yamada peeks at the response and dramatically holds the phone to his heart. This time when the train slows at the familiar stop you stand with him. Close enough to smell his warm scented cologne and leather. Shoulder to shoulder as you wait for the doors to open you feel those lithe fingers extend to brush your own. He doesn’t take your hand but it’s a close thing.

The arm resting a hair's breadth from your lower back guides you onto the platform and through the oncoming influx of passengers to a quieter spot. Alone together you drink each other in. Nervously tugging your sleeve to your wrist, you wet your lips and say, “…Hi”.

Yamada’s eyes squinted under the magnitude of his grin, nose wrinkled enough that his glasses slipped just a fraction. “Hey,” he returns. The low baritone of his voice settles over you like silk and you get the inkling that your life is about to become a little less mundane.

Even then, you’re certain that your favourite part of the day would always be the train journey home.

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 12- In My Dreams

FICTOBER Prompt list/masterlist

Patreon

-----

Y/N felt like she had seen a ghost as she looked up in the coffee shop. 

Her job was nice. Making coffee for passive aggressive soccer mom’s wasn’t the highlight of her day, but getting to be out in town and greet her regulars was always a fun time for her. Y/N was a dreamer, but dreaming didn’t make life free- so she had ended up getting a job at the most tolerable place she could find until she could lift her feet off the ground and meet her head in the clouds where all her dreams reside. 

Dreams were a big thing for her. So vivid, so real, especially since moving to the next state over where rent was cheaper and cost of living just slightly less terrifying. The city hadn’t cut it and she needed a place to start over, so returning to suburban life had been a no brainer. Her entire life she had dreams, odd ones, some that plain old scared her, but lately they’d been some of the best she’d ever had. 

Her dreams consisted of going out and living her dream life as an author, only this time it felt real. It felt like she escaped from her daily life by going to sleep. It was odd, and she knew she should probably see a professional from how attached she was to her dream life, but she couldn’t see the harm. She spent days at this cafe as a customer instead, sipping her iced hazelnut coffees and getting a cinnamon bun while she worked on the manuscript, editing, plotting for new books in her head. 

She had a cat in her dreams, one she had always wanted- a flame point ragdoll that let her put tiny pink bows on the top of her head that she named Miffy after her favorite cartoon rabbit. Her new apartment had a large multicolored rug and a view of the downtown, high ceilings and a fireplace. She still didn’t know how it was always turned on when she returned home in dreamland- but she figured it was because of her dream boyfriend. 

Oddly enough, she didn’t know his name. She knew his face, his green eyes and longer nose. She knew his pink mouth and how it tasted, how gentle it could press kisses to her eyelids before she woke up into her real life. She knew his touch, how it was slightly cool and his hands were soft, stroking over her cheek as she told him about her ideas and plans and when she sometimes cried about not wanting to wake up. 

Her dream life was her escape, her wishes come true, and it somehow made the real thing both more tolerable and more hated. Her brain must be giving her a break, but she had no idea how she had made up this man in such detail. To the way he liked his coffee, to his preference in cinnamon to peppermint gum. How he disliked the color coral but loved a soft orange, even choosing it for their shared bedspread. He had become such a fixture in her thoughts that it had begun to ache when she woke up, not seeing him next to her in her bed that wasn’t the one she had fallen asleep in. Y/N’s world just felt somnolent without his arm wrapped around her waist and his gentle humming as she drifted off to ‘sleep’, as much as she tried to fight it. Her eyes always opened anyways. 

H. That’s his name, or at least what he had told her. The dynamic would drive anyone else insane- it even did for her- but she knew that one day she could have something like that. 

He was the sweetest thing, sweeter than cherry pie. A man of few words, simply asking about her day in a hushed voice, questioning her about her likes and dislikes, telling her some trivial facts about him and kissing right between her brows when she came to him with a history question for her historical romance pieces. He said he was a historian, but he was brilliant. Almost as if he had lived through some of the events, retelling portions with passion and giving her real insight into what he believed it would be like for someone at that time. 

An odd man, but someone who she wished desperately was real. 

“Y/N, that guy outside is staring at you.” 

Her coworker interrupted her daydream as she waited for the milk to finish frothing. The trickle of chills slivered down her back as she turned her head to the side in time to see a man walking inside, the chime of the shop bells ringing as the door opened up. 

It felt like her breath was stolen as he stepped past the welcome mat, a hand clad with rings that looked like a picture she knew of brushed through pushed back curls. Her hand shook slightly as she struggled to turn off the milk frother, blinking repeatedly as he approached the counter. Despite the sunglasses, she felt his eyes. They were intense, boring into hers behind the filmed lenses, her stomach twisting and body cold as he finally stood at the counter, plushy lips opening to place an order- but when the glasses came down and those all too familiar green eyes met her own, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

What the actual fuck was happening? 

“Vanilla latte, please. With a shot of caramel creamer.”

 His voice was the same, soft and deep as he recited the order she already knew by heart. One she prepared in her dreams a million times- but this was not a dream. Not even if she wished it was. There was a specific euphoric feeling in her dreams and this was not that. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, even if her head perhaps floated too high.  She knew by the aching of her feet and her splitting headache from the squeaks of the coffee machines and blenders going all day, there was no way this was her dream world. It was just her dream man standing in front of her, eyeing her in a way to say he knew. His eyes were expressive, like they could see into her head. And he knew she was freaking out, but trying to stay calm. 

“I’ve seen you…. You’ve been in my dreams.” Her voice whispered across the counter, her trembling fingers typing the order into the pad as her eyes stayed on his own. “Or I’m crazy.” 

That seemed like the more plausible option, but somehow… she knew she wasn’t.

“You’re not crazy.” He replied, placing the money for his drink into her hand. “You get off in twelve minutes. I’ll wait for you.” 

[sorceresssundries]

Janet from HR's Banter/Dialogue

Thank you for the asks around Janet's party banter! There were a few crossovers, so instead of doing separate responses i'll put them all here and tag the people who asked about it!

There were a few, so i'll put them under the cut!

Thanks @mumms-the-word @lanafofana @residentdormouse and @briwhosaysni ! <3

If you'd like to do this for your Tav, the link is here!

2. Spam clicking on them too many times Stop it! Before I make an official complaint. 

3. Directing them to attack/move in combat Fine, but after this I want a glass of wine and a lie down.

4. Hiding/sneaking/hidden movement Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious… 

5. Taking a short rest Time for a nap and a cry. Then back to it.

6. Low health/asking for healing Just leave me to die actually, i’m so sick of this.

13. Picking a lock Good job I've got a messy bun full of bobby pins.

12. Encountering a locked door No way through, can we go home now?

14. Looking at a Globe I’m taking a fucking holiday when this is all over. I need a tan, a mojito, and a dirty book. 

17. Looking in a mirror Fucking hell. Has anyone got any concealer?

19. Noticing a trap Don’t you lot have fucking magic elf vision or something? How come i’m the only one to spot that very obvious trap.

20. Can’t fit into a small hole Nah, sorry love. Not without a whole lot of lube.

26. Party banter with Gale

Gale: It is in the aftermath of battle, when the haze of the Weave lingers from the sparks of magic, that the memory of Mystra’s embrace feels most vivid. It's as if she’s still guiding my hands, her presence intertwined with every thread of magic I spin. 

Janet: I’m not gonna lie man, she sounds like a real bitch. 

28. Party banter with Karlach

Janet: You know, my ex didn’t have a heart either

Karlach: What?! That’s awful! Gods, soldier - i’m so sorry. That must have been really tough for you. Did he get sent to the blood war too?

Janet: Oh.. no.. I meant… Never mind. Thanks Karlach.

32. Party banter with Jaheira

Janet: Hey babe, my friend Shannon does my botox and she’d work wonders on you.

Jaheira: *glares* She would approach me with a needle? Does this Shannon value her life? 

Janet: Not really, she’s a pisces. 

34. Party banter with Minsc

Janet: I got my kids a hamster once

Minsc: Ah! Then you must know what tough and wise companions they make!

Janet: I accidentally sucked it up in the hoover after a week. They’re not that tough

[wndaswife]

Damnnnn, you should write Lizzie more often! And on that note, how about:

83. “you have no idea how much i want you"

elizabeth olsen & fem!reader

tags: smut, a little bit of angst in my opinion <//3, dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, fingering, praise, power bottom!elizabeth olsen. MINORS DNI.

word count: 1517

a/n: lizzie's boyfriend in this fic is noooot robbie, it's just some random man. i love the two of them n would never write them apart, even in fiction!!!

It was the week before Christmas, and the only time all of you could meet over dinner before everyone had plans, whether it be going back to families from hometowns, travelling, or shooting for an upcoming film for the next several months.

Dinner was being held at Elizabeth’s house. You were attending with your brother who’d been dating the actress for the past few months. You’d never seen the house before save one hasty moment when you came inside after an afternoon spent amongst your friends and brother at the backyard pool when Lizzie ushered you in to change out of your bikini and into dry clothes.

Your brother was adamant about being presentable, for it was the night he’d ask his girlfriend to move into a new place with him. It was a huge step for their relationship, though you were unaware how things were going between them as you scarcely saw Lizzie.

She’d always been sweet to you, offering for you to stay for dinner when you were around or to sleep over in one of her guest rooms the night before day plans with your brother. You took it as her trying to get close to her boyfriend’s little sister, which you empathised with. But plans with her always fell through. Nevertheless, seeing her at family events was always nice.

You were wearing something simple, a black dress and a knit red cardigan. Your hair was tied up into a bun, loop earrings and natural makeup pulling it together. Feeling a bit daring, you wore a dark red lip. The car drive to Lizzie’s place was filled with your brother’s instructions- don’t mention anything about his plans; be cool; act natural; be nice to her. He mentioned that she was particularly excited to have you over and even asked him what your favourite dishes were.

Upon arrival, you found that her house wasn’t decorated very much besides a string of vivid white lights that wrapped around the bushes in front of her house under the kitchen windowsill. When your brother knocked on the front door, his girlfriend opened it within several seconds with a wide smile. It was decorated in more detail inside. Pretty ribbons and strings of evergreen lined the trim of some ceilings. Soft Christmas music played from the living room, a warm yellow tint coming over the entire house.

Lizzie’s eyes found you first but your brother stepped in for a hug and her face was shrouded by his shoulder. Hands came up to hug him back and you stepped into the front foyer, slipping past the couple. Your brother rounded his girlfriend and she closed the front door, flattening down her shirt as she turned to you.

“Y/N,” she breathed out as if relieved. “How are you? It’s been so long.”

You parted your lips to speak before another knock came at the front door. Lizzie looked at you helplessly for a moment until you smiled in understanding and left to follow your brother into the kitchen. Green eyes followed you until another knock echoed through the front foyer and Elizabeth finally turned to open the door. You heard the sounds of her greeting her guests behind you as you helped your brother set the table with the meal the two of you made.

The rest of the night was filled with you catching the stares of your brother’s girlfriend in the corner of your eye as dinner progressed.

Then finally, “Liz, there’s something I want to ask you.”

From the couch in the living room, you heard her turn off the sink tap to listen to her boyfriend.

You willed yourself not to listen to their conversation. You knew it was a sensitive topic, and a major step of their relationship. You tried your best to listen to the conversations of your brother’s friends, trying to pretend you cared about vegan meatballs and summer irrigation. Lizzie seemed to get along great with her friends, but you couldn’t imagine her fitting into a group like that. It was only when you heard your brother’s muffled speech become louder and Lizzie’s quickening padding of her feet as she sped through the hallway to the living room that you figured the offer to live together wasn’t taken positively.

A gust of air blew against your side and the rest of the guests looked up to the figure behind you.

“Come. Now,” Lizzie snapped and she took your wrist with her hand, dragging you up from the couch and pulling you with her. Not a word was uttered to her friends, leaving them stupefied behind you.

Before you could even question what she was doing, you were being forced through the living room, up the stairs, and down a hallway of doors. Suddenly, you were being pushed against the final door of the hallway, the breath being knocked out of you.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” Lizzie whispered as she buried her face in your neck and kissed up your skin. Her pants blew hot down your neck as her breath quickened.

You tried pushing her away, but she took your wrist and brought your hand to her breast, making you grope her harshly. She moaned out, her forehead pressed against your shoulder. “E-Elizabeth, stop,” you pleaded, trying to push her away from you but only ending up groping her rougher. She only moaned louder, forcing you to abandon the hope of pushing her off, and instead raising your hand to her mouth and silencing her.

Her hips began grinding down against yours, evidence of the obvious pressure that started forming beyond her lacy panties. “Don’t pretend…” she groaned out and lifted her head from your shoulder to pant against your cheek, “like you don’t want this.”

A hand rounded around to your ass and Lizzie squeezed harshly. “Pinch my nipples. Go on, do it,” she urged.

Miraculously, you found enough sense in you to form words. “But my brother- your boyfriend! And I’m his sister, and you’re moving in together-”

Lizzie pulled you from the door and turned the doorknob before she pushed you in. For a moment, she parted from you as you stumbled backwards while she flicked the room light on and shut the door behind her. “I’m not doing anything with him,” she replied. Like a predator to its prey, she wrapped her arms around you again and walked you deeper into the room.

It was only when the back of your knees hit the edge of a bed and you fell back down onto it that you realised you were in her bedroom.

She started pressing kisses all over your face as she pushed you up her bed, forcing you to catch up to her speed helplessly while you crawled backwards.

“I want you…” Lizzie panted.

Another kiss to your cheek.

“… To fuck me.”

Another to your chin.

“I want your fingers in my pussy.”

She took your hand and tucked it past the waistband of her pants where your fingers met her damp panties. “So good,” she groaned. Lizzie began bouncing on your fingers, her hand wrapped tightly around your wrist in order to buck the heel of your hand up into her clit. Her eyes opened and when her viridescent eyes met your own, she smiled. “We broke up, princess. Now, you’re all mine.”

Perhaps the words elicited something in you, for your fingers lifted up and pressed into her clothed hole. She stifled a squeal in response. Hurriedly, she zipped her pants down and pulled her panties to the side, quickly drenching your digits in her juices as she began humping your hand.

“I only ever dated him to see you,” she forced herself to speak through the white-hot waves of pleasure running through her. “But you never came for meals I invited you to, never slept over. Gods, how terribly I just wanted to run my tongue through your pretty little pussy when you fell asleep in my backyard that afternoon. And how simple it would’ve been, to pull that skimpy bikini to the side and see that puffy cunt.”

Lizzie leaned down to kiss your lips. “My beautiful girl. Let me see you,” she said and straightened to pull the collar of your dress down, then your bra to each respective side so your tits were exposed. Her lips immediately wrapped around one of your nipples, nipping at your bud occasionally while she moaned as you began to extend your fingers through her velvet walls.

Your brother, under the impression that he had truly upset his ex-girlfriend enough that she holed herself up in her bedroom while she cried against your shoulder, walked the dinner guests out apologetically. He texted you to let him know when you needed a ride back home and left the house, dejected and anxious.

For the first time, you did take up Lizzie’s offer for you to stay over after several orgasms. The two of you slept in her bedroom, bare sweaty bodies entangled as your head laid against your girlfriend’s soft breasts.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

For the Pearlification au, how long do you think Reader could last before being found out? What kind of repercussions would there be for not being well...perfect or at least falling completely to the pearlifiction process?

I think Reader could last about three or four months before someone became too concerned or Reader said something to the wrong gem. The repercussions wouldn't be bad (not the gem version of bad), such as abuse or shattering... No, they'd just rejuvenate Reader (which Reader might see as worse). The gems don't want to hurt Reader, but they believe Reader would be happier that way, with a new start and no memory of being human, so as not to miss Earth or any other humans who aren't pearls now, and so they wouldn't try to run or leave them. They'd try to be as patient and calm with it as possible, even if Reader is crying or sobbing their heart out or summoning a weapon- Reader would fight every step of the way, and would not go down without a fight...

I kinda headcanon Reader runs off successfully at first... Only to be hunted down, then dragged back...

(Do you have anymore questions for this AU or the other Gem AUs? Do you have a favorite gem type? And who is your favorite platonic yandere, @vivid-bun? Thank you for asking your question!!!)

[ayyy-pee]

Chapter 9 - Powerslide

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader, Choso Kamo x Female Reader

Summary: It's reader's turn to have an eye opening heart to heart with NanaGo.

Warning: Profanity because it's me, duh, mentions of emotional manipulation, reader finally making a choice!!!!, idk what else I can't remember what I even wrote

Suguru Art: YuOekk

Choso Art: @DmD_0_03

The annoying sensation of your phone ringing beneath your pillow pulls you from your dreamless sleep. With a groan, you silence it, ignoring whoever is reaching out to you this early in the morning. You know it’s not who you want it to be – your boss – because you’ve been placed on a temporary suspension until the investigation into the violence that took place on set has been completed.

It’s been a little over a week since the shitshow that was your photoshoot and you’ve spent your days wallowing in your bedroom since your followup meeting with Yaga. Just thinking about how it went down makes you shiver. You’re grateful for the dreamless sleep you’ve been having the last week or so. You fear you’d hear his deep, gravelly voice yelling expletives until your dying breath. 

In all honesty, you were surprised you’d even left with a suspension. If anything, you thought you would be leaving to make an appointment in the unemployment line. A suspension pending investigation gave you a sliver of hope that you may have a career to come back to. 

Your phone vibrates on your bed for what feels like the fiftieth time this morning. And just like the last morning and the morning before that, you ignore it, turning over in bed as you pull the blankets over your head. It dawns on you that you may feel better if you actually left your apartment, but any time you muster the courage to crawl out of bed, vivid images of the disaster on set run through your mind and you slink back beneath the sheets.

But you can’t hide away forever, you know that.

Again, your phone vibrates on your bed. With a groan, you finally pick it up. There are several unanswered texts from both Choso and Suguru, who you really don’t want to talk to. There are multiple missed calls from Suguru and one missed call and a voicemail from Choso. You don’t bother to listen. There are texts from Satoru checking to see how you’re doing and a friend request to your social media from Momo? But it’s the text at the top of your screen that really draws your attention.

It’s Nanami Kento.

He never texts. Sure, he’s been with your longtime friend, Satoru, for as long as you can remember, and you’d consider him a friend as well, but you never text each other.

You swipe your phone, unlocking the screen and tapping the message, your name the first thing you see at the beginning of his paragraph. You don’t even giggle at the goofy nickname Satoru saved his number as when you feel the serious tone of his text. 

Nanami Gojo’s Love Bun: Hello, 

Sorry to text you out of the blue like this. Let me preface this by saying I hope you’re doing alright. I’ll get to the point here.

Satoru had Suguru over for dinner last weekend and he filled us in on what took place at your photoshoot. Firstly, I hope you did not let those horribly misogynistic and frankly vile words Zenin said get to you. I don’t imagine you would.

Secondly, I don’t usually take it upon myself to involve myself in the matters of others unless asked, but I’d like to have you over for dinner tonight if you’re able to make it and discuss where your head is. I’m sure you’re aware of Suguru’s ability to over exaggerate and make statements leaning in his favor. 

Satoru is worried for both of you. He does not want to interfere, but I can’t sit idly and watch him worry himself to death. I think it would be a good idea to have you over if not to simply keep you company while you’re going through this.

If you can make it tonight at 7pm, we will have a plate ready for you. If not, just let me know.

- Kento

The gesture is nice, you can acknowledge that. And as much as you don’t want to move from this very comfortable spot on your bed, you think it’ll be a good idea to get out of the house for once. A night with friends, no guys vying for your attention, no pressure to choose someone, just…fun. You deserve that at least.

You: Hi Nanami. Thank you so much for the offer. I’ll see you all tonight.

He texts back within a few minutes.

Nanami Gojo’s Love Bun: Wonderful. See you tonight.

- - - - - -

The door to Nanami and Gojo’s apartment swings open, Satoru’s eyes literally beaming under the hallway lights. His brows draw together in confusion, head tilted to the side as he peers down at you. It may also be because you look like a tired sack of shit after all this time wallowing in your bedroom. But Satoru, the great friend he is, doesn’t comment on it.

“Hey? What are you doing here?” He steps aside, leaving room for you to come in. You move past him, already seeing Nanami setting their small, round dining table.

“Nanami invited me for dinner,” you explain, your answer being met with an “ah” from Satoru as he moves around you, motioning for you to take a seat at the table while he heads into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses for you and Nanami.

“Hello,” Nanami greets you as he plates the goddamn gourmet meal he made tonight. Any time you’ve been to Nanami and Satoru’s place, he’s always in the kitchen making something. Their house always smells like a damn Michelin restaurant

“Hey Nanami,” you return his greeting, as you sit down. Nanami and Satoru take a seat next to each other on the other side and Satoru pops open the bottle, pouring the wine into both your glass and Nanami’s. As usual, Satoru sticks to whatever sweet juice he’s in the mood for.

“This looks so good, Ken,” Satoru grins, leaning to the side to rest his head on Nanami’s shoulder. Nanami doesn’t acknowledge the compliment, but you can see the pink lightly dusting his cheeks. Nanami is the first to raise his utensils, never wanting to waste a moment to eat. As long as you’ve known Nanami and Satoru, dinner at their place has always been a quick experience. The moment the food hits the table, Nanami is all in, ready to judge his own cooking. It’s actually funny to watch his eyes close and his brows knit together on first bite as he assesses his creation. You and Satoru watch him with hardly concealed amusement. Satoru glances at you and grins, shaking his head. He looks back at his partner next to him, eyes sparkling. It makes you smile even harder. 

“Good,” Nanami voices to himself as he loses the concentrating look on his face. Satoru shakes his head again, picking up his own utensils to begin eating and you follow suit. There’s a lull in conversation for a bit and then Satoru finally asks what you know he’s been dying to get into. 

“Sooooo…what’s been up with you the last few months?” He nibbles at the food on his fork.

You shrug. “Didn’t Suguru tell you?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you know him. He likes to…embellish.”

You nod, chuckling because it’s so fucking true. Suguru turns everything into the damn Suguru show when he feels like he’s the victim, which you’re beginning to realize is almost always as of late.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” So you fill them in on what’s been happening between you and Suguru over the last few months, your version. “He’s been trying to change. Trying to be better.”

“How so?” Nanami questions, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of his wine.

“I mean, he’s been doing sweet gestures like sending me flowers and breakfast. He texts me or calls me telling me he misses me. Things he didn’t do before.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, chuckling and you feel your irritation build.

“What?”

“That’s like the bare minimum.” He sighs. “After all this time, he suddenly wants to call you for something besides sex? Send you little gifts? I mean, come on.”

You feel your cheeks warm under Satoru’s scrutiny, because you know he’s right. And you can admit that you may have looked the other way about that fact because you were simply happy he was finally doing it. It’s embarrassing how desperate you were for Suguru to make the most minimal effort that you didn’t see how little he was actually doing.

“I mean…it’s more than he used to do,” you try to defend Suguru because…you don’t even know why.

“He’s love bombing you.” Satoru continues. His bright gaze holds yours and he sees the confusion loud and clear behind your eyes.

“Love…bombing?”

Nanami speaks up this time. “He’s trying to manipulate you into sticking around by giving you the attention and affection you’ve been asking of him for the duration of your…whatever it is.”

Love bombing…Manipulating you? Is that what’s been happening this whole time with Suguru? Suguru had always been straight up with you about his intentions, and while you weren’t particularly okay with it, you had agreed. Once you started seeing Choso too, he said he was fine with it, even said he wanted to be with you and he’d prove it. How was he manipulating you?

Somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a very small voice screaming that you’re a fucking idiot.

As if he could see the wheels turning, Nanami interrupts your thoughts when he calls your name.

“Think about it. Satoru and I know about your situation with Suguru. We’ve also known Suguru for a long time, long before you knew him, and well…” he pauses, pursing his lips as if thinking carefully about what he says next. “Can you think of anything that’s happened that would trigger Suguru to suddenly want to be an upstanding partner for you?”

You sigh because you know where he’s going with this. Because the answer is obvious. 

“If I can be candid…” he asks.

You nod your approval. “Yes, of course.”

“It’s the new factor he didn’t account for in your life,” he states factually. And he’s absolutely right.

“I mean, he didn’t start acting like this, didn’t start wanting to change until I started seeing Choso, too.”

Satoru and Nanami nod in unison.

“Suguru doesn’t…share well,” Satoru mutters. “Doesn’t like other people trying to take what’s his.”

“I’m not his,” you affirm, almost defensively. “He’s told me that plenty of times.”

“Yeah, but that was before he saw you making eyes at Choso at the skatepark,” Satoru says. “You know he broke his skateboard when he saw Choso kiss you at the park?”

You want to laugh, but not because it’s funny. You want to laugh because everything is starting to dawn on you now; your entire situation with Suguru, how maybe you’ve been letting him act how he has because while he’s not really committing to anything, he’s giving you just enough to keep you attached. He’s been love bombing you, as Satoru said.

“He told me, yeah…on the date he took me on.”

Nanami and Satoru share a look and Satoru sighs.

“And Choso? How does he feel about all of this with Suguru?” Satoru asks.

Choso…

“He’s…” Your mind thinks back to your last real interaction with Choso, the sadness in his eyes when he confronted you about Suguru.

It’s always going to be him, isn’t it?

“He was okay with it at first, that I was still seeing Suguru and getting to know him at the same time. Somewhere along the way, that changed.”

“As expected,” Satoru chimes in. “I don’t know Choso at all, but with how interested he’s always seemed to be in you, he never struck me as a casual relationship type.”

“No…” You think about all the time you’ve spent with Choso and how understanding he’s always been with you, how he told you he’d wait for you to, how he’s always only ever been committed to you, even when traveling for competition. All the effort that he’s put into getting to know you, show you he cares for you. He’s never made you doubt his intentions, never made you nervous about where you stood with him.

And yet, you made him feel that way.

You treated Choso the way Suguru treats you, thinking he’d just always be there.

You rub your hands over your face, the feel of tears prickling at your waterline.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” you whisper, trying to hold back the sob. “I’m so stupid.”

Nanami shakes his head, reaching across the table to grab hold of your wrist. He pulls one of your hands away from your face so you can see him clearly. 

“You’re not stupid. Anyone could be in your situation. Are you maybe a little selfish for wanting to make Suguru change for you and hold onto Choso as well?”

“Yep! For dragging Choso along…” Satoru announces. “But honestly? So is Suguru for how he’s dragged you along all this time and made you feel like he was going to suddenly become this better person.”

“I’ve just wanted this side of Suguru for so long. It was nice to finally get it, but I just feel stupid for how long it took me to see that it’s always been this, that even with the promises he’s made, he’ll always be Suguru…And I feel like an asshole for how I’ve been treating Choso…He’s always been good to me.” You sniffle softly, wiping at your eyes. “Always. Without me asking.”

“You can always make that right,” Nanami notes as Satoru leans over, laying his head on Nanami’s shoulder.

You’ve been watching them throughout dinner, throughout this conversation. It’s their little touches throughout that you notice, their glances at each other, the way they share pieces of food with each other without the other asking, their unspoken language. There’s so much love between them in the smallest things they do. Pure, genuine love. 

You imagine what it would be like to have an actually healthy, functioning relationship. To be with someone who wants you and only you, and won’t ever hold back from proving it to you. You want that, you really do.You could have that. You could have all of that if you stopped fucking around and just made a choice. And made the right one.

- - - - - -

You leave Nanami and Satoru’s apartment shortly after dinner, thanking them for stepping in and opening your eyes. Your mind reels as you mull over everything you discussed. Everything is piecing itself together for you; being strung along by Suguru for all this time, your excitement when he finally decided he wanted to change, even through your apprehensiveness you had hope.

You may have enjoyed the attention Suguru was giving you, even if it was annoying most times. It was him finally doing what you had been asking for all this time.

And then there was Choso, who had been nothing but patient until just recently. It dawns on you that between you two, he saw Suguru for who he was. It seems he always had and even then he waited for you to come to your senses. That is, until he couldn’t anymore. He made his feelings clear at the photoshoot. Choso had never outright shown his jealousy or disdain of your feelings for Suguru – did you even have real feelings for Suguru anymore? You hardly saw him. You spent most of your time with Choso anyway. 

What were you even hoping to get from Suguru if he actually had changed? A real relationship? Commitment to only you? A relationship with both him and Choso?

What the fuck have you actually been doing all this time? With both of them?

Your phone rings in your pocket and you fish it out, your boss's name popping up on the screen and you answer.

“Mr. Yaga…hello.”

He gets straight to the point. “We’ve closed the photoshoot investigation. Let me start by saying this…what you do with your free time and who you do it with is a non-factor here. These skaters are not under contract with us. The issue here was the violence that took place.”

You nod along as he speaks. “Yes, I understand.”

“Now, that being said, Mr. Zenin has taken full responsibility for his actions and has apologized…” he pauses for a moment, clearing his throat. “This is all coming from his agent, so, do with that what you will. Anyway, you can thank Mr. Kamo for coming in and giving a written statement. We were able to take that into account and present it to Mr. Zenin, so given that Mr. Zenin escalated the situation, you’ll be able to return to work.”

There’s another long pause from Yaga and you almost think he’s hung up until his deep voice rings through the phone again. “Off the record…Take the next week off, gather your thoughts, get your shit together please because we cannot afford another instance of your personal life leaking into your professional one.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you.” You end the call. You feel like you can’t breathe, your heart leaping into your throat. You have a job. You still have a job! And it’s all thanks to Choso. 

You swipe your phone, selecting the voicemail Choso left you a couple days ago. Your heart is pounding so hard, adrenaline still rushing after your conversation with Nanami as Choso’s voice rings clear through the speaker.

“Hey. I…um,” he clears his throat, his voice tense with nerves. “I know you probably don’t want to speak to me and honestly? That’s valid. I understand. I acted out of character and embarrassed you on what should have been your day. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t begin to express that enough. I spoke with your boss…Yaga? Nice guy…um…” He’s rambling and you’re standing in Nanami and Satoru’s hallway grinning like an idiot as you listen. “Anyway, I took full responsibility for instigating the fight. I told Yaga that our personal…whatever we have doesn’t impact your work in the slightest.” He pauses. “And neither does your…whatever you have with Suguru. He agreed.” You bite down softly on your bottom lip. “I told him that if Naoya pursues anything legally, I’ll take responsibility but Yaga doubts he will. Thinks that little worm wouldn’t be stupid enough to make himself look even worse than what the article published after they pulled him from the lineup.”

What?

They pulled Naoya? Yaga didn’t mention that.

“When you get a chance, if you want to, will you please call me back? I’d really like the chance to sit down and just…talk to you…bye.”

You listen to Choso’s voicemail two, three, maybe four more times before you finally leave Nanami and Satoru’s apartment building. You know exactly where you’re going next.

- - - - - -

Your fists lightly tap the door to the apartment ahead of you. Your hands are trembling and you’re pretty sure your anxiety is dripping from your pores. When the day started, you hadn't imagined that you’d end up here. You started the day sad, confused, angry. And you’ve ended it with clarity. Even if it took you weeks to get here, you got here. 

It only takes a minute before the door opens, dark eyes meeting yours, framed by the raven strands hanging loosely around them.

“Hey, I’m glad you came,” he says, voice making your heart…do nothing. Interesting…He steps aside so you can come in.

“Hey, Suguru.” You shake your head when he gestures for you to come inside again. “That’s okay. This won’t take long.”

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

A/N: DLSKFJKDJ READERRRR GODDDD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!

Taglist: @mimiszworld @mighty-luna @re-dd0 @k4zuhasleaf @nekonanamiiii @Sacvh @suguju @watyousayin @nothisispatrick300 @sukunasseventhfinger @mykyoon @athenaholmesher @nobody289x @OUTTHEBASEMENTNAE @alpacapum @cherribxio @gloomiigloom @xocreedvo @ficti0nalslxt @getousbabymama @510hz

[disasterofastory]

Good boy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Good boy chubby!librarian!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: praise kink, oral (female receiving)

Summary: Bucky likes to hear how good he is.

A/N: Kinktober day 3 with Bucky.

The scent of coffee and books linger in the air, mixing with the light cologne of the man in front of you. He sits behind his desk with an old computer and a stack of books in front of him. His steel blue eyes sweep over your body until he meets your gaze. A smirk pulls on your lipstick-covered lips when you notice his attention turns back to the sweater you wear. To the sweater he owns. It's soft and warm and smells like him. "Hey, Buck," you greet him. "Hey," he croaks out. Half of his mind is still on the fact that you stole his sweater. And it looks damn good on you. "I brought you coffee," you break the silence again, putting one of the cups on the desk. "It's your favorite." "Thanks," he breathes out, looking down at the cup. "Are you okay?" You ask, tilting your head as you watch him. His dark hair is tied up in a bun, so you can clearly see the light blush on his soft cheeks. Another smile pulls on your lips as you watch his embarrassment. "Yeah," he nods, clearing his throat. "I'm fine." "Okay," you hum, enjoying the situation a bit too much. "Do you mind if I stay there for a while?" You ask him, going around the desk before he can answer. "It's raining." "Sure," he nods again. He watches you sitting up on the wooden surface with your own cup of coffee in your hands. Even though his eyes are on you, his mind is entirely elsewhere. The last night is still vivid in both of your minds.

***

A thin layer of sweat shines on your skin as you lay on the bed. The sheets are a mess around you, but none of you care about it. Every nerve in your body is focused on the man between your legs. He has been there for a while now, and you are starting to lose your mind because of it. "Bucky," you pant his name. Your fingers tighten on his soft hair as he dives into your warm pussy. Your clit throbs between his plump lips as he sucks on the hard bud. A dry scream escapes your throat, making your world spin. His large hands are around your thighs, keeping you in place. The rough pads of his fingertips dig into the soft flesh. "Oh, Bucky," you repeat his name. "So good. So good." You don't notice it at first. You almost stop chanting when your gaze wanders from the ceiling to the curve of his bare ass. Bucky grinds against the sheets with every word that leaves your mouth. Falling silent, you continue to watch him. His hips pause. His mouth still suckles on your wet heat. At this point, you are not even sure if he is still breathing, but your attention is on something else. "You are so good, Bucky," you speak up again. His hips move again, and his low moan flares through your body. His hands tighten, pulling you even closer. "I love your mouth," you gasp. "You licking me so good." You can't tear your eyes away from his bottom as it moves up and down while his face is still buried in your pussy. The brunette licks up on your folds, finding your clit again just to flick it a few times before he dives into your hole, pushing his tongue inside as deep as he can. "Never stop," you exhale. "You are doing so good, Bucky." You almost chase each other. The man pushes you to the edge of your orgasm with every lick of his tongue while you chant praise after praise. You can barely breathe while the hot coil in your lower belly stretches and burns, but you still keep going. "I love your mouth on my pussy, Bucky," you pant. "It's so good. You are so good."

Something snaps in the room. Both of you can feel it in the air. Bucky's hips stop, and a low groan breaks up from his throat, shaking over your body until you follow his lead. The coil in you breaks loose, burning you up as your eyes roll back and you cum on Bucky's tongue.

You are limp and sated, and you need a few seconds to clear your mind, which is still dizzy and clouded. Your thighs shake without Bucky's hold on them. When you open your eyes, you see Bucky's kneeling form between your legs. His dark hair is a mess, falling in front of his face in knots. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks are pink, and his lips swollen, shining with your juices. Your gaze wanders down to his broad chest, which almost matches the redness of his handsome face. "I'm sorry," he breathes out, and you frown. You are ready to question him when you notice his still erect cock. It's dripping with cum. "Did you…?" You croak, trying to find your voice. Surprise shows on your face, and Bucky grimaces. "I'm sorry. I didn't… I... " "Come here," you tell him, stopping his panic. Opening your arms, you let Bucky lay down on you. His warm breath fans over the curve of your neck, his soft belly against yours, and his erection pokes you every time he moves. "It's okay," you hum, basking in his closeness. He doesn't let his whole weight fall on you, but it's enough to give you some comfort. "I think it's hot." He freezes. "What?" "Did you cum because I praised you?" You ask him. Your fingers caress the back of his head. "And because you taste good." You laugh, your chest presses against his, and your arms tighten around his neck and shoulder. "I love the fact that I made you cum without touching," you confess. Newfound excitement bubbles up in you, and you feel Bucky's cock jerking on your lower belly. "You do?" "Yeah," you smirk, licking your lips. "Because you are such a good boy."

***

There is a cheeky glint in your eyes as you watch Bucky. His eyes are clouded, and a light pink blush tints his cheeks. You need to touch his broad shoulder to bring him back to you. "What?" He shudders, straightening himself. "Are you really okay? Maybe you should come home with me, I could take care of my good boy." "Y/N," he groans, letting his head hit the desk in front of him while your head falls back as you laugh.

You will have so much fun, and you will make sure Bucky finds his pleasure in it too.

[ps1demodisk]

Afk Journey AU type thing where Merlin is actually a graveborn but doesn't know due to his constant bouts of amnesia

Uh there's a lot to get through but I'll drop the evil bits of lore I've got so far

Important things to note:

There's a temple called "Merlin's Grave", the story told is that it was where someone tried to assassinate Magister Merlin and failed, but in truth the temple was built around his gave to honour him (and then later used to conceal the grave when people started trying to break into his tomb, but especially after he rose from the dead).

He sealed off the entrance to the part of the temple the tomb is in with magic after he left (he doesn't remember this though).

He was, at one point, technically a lightbearer.

The Magister goes by Lazarus, but not many people call him that. Mostly just Hogan.

His headpiece actually helps with his amnesia, although his memory is still pretty bad, it helps him hold on to important memories, like who his friends are, what he is, who his enemies are, core memories, stuff like that.

His hair is kinda long but he usually just puts it in a weird kinda low hanging long bun thing and no one seems to realise it's as long as it is.

All of this is post-canon.

Ok this is gonna be a little messy and long.

He has vague flashes of memories at the tavern one night, drinking with Valen, and eventually they get too vivid and he just runs out the tavern looking worried. Valen sees this and decides to follow since it's odd for the magister to act like this.

Lucky for Valen, the magister doesn't run for very long, and Valen is able to follow from a distance so he's not seen.

They head into a thick foresty part a little ways outside ryeham, and after a while of following Valen realises the magister is looking for something

They go really deep, at one point Valen isn't even sure if this area has been walked in in the past hundred years, but the magister makes a path through the undergrowth as he goes and Valen just follows it. His legs are getting tired but they're so deep he can't even see the sky, he doesn't know if the sun even reaches here or if it's just still nighttime, he can't stop and go back without alerting the magister to the fact he's following so he just keeps going (because he doesn't want to leave him out here alone).

The magister keeps stopping at certain points and looking around, Valen isn't sure if he's looking at land marks to tell him where he is or if he's suspicious he's being followed.

Finally he stops at a big tree, from where Valen is he can see the magister but not what he's looking at on the tree, he reaches in the trunk and pulls something out and then just sinks to the ground and stays there, for a while it looks like he's crying, but then he lays down.

It seems like he ended up falling asleep after a while, so Valen finally approaches. When he makes his way around to the side of the tree the magister was looking at he sees two things, a big hole that looks to have been blown into the tree a very long time ago which the tree grew around to heal, and a very large sword that also seems to be mostly swallowed by the tree's growth by now. Near the sword is a small hole that looks fresh, like something embedded in the tree there had just been pulled out.

When he looks back at the magister he sees he's holding a little crown of some kind, and he realises that was what the magister came out here for.

Valen ends up falling asleep next to the magister while waiting for him to wake up, the walk was exhausting and so was all the stealthy stalking. When he wakes up, the magister's cloak is draped over him, and he is stood a little ways away from Valen, staring at the crown from last night. When Valen makes noise the magister turns to him with an unreadable expression, muttering something about how they should start heading back since it'll take a while. The magister feels different, the magister is acting different, but Valen doesn't get any answers until they're halfway through their walk back and he's been begging the whole time.

"I think that's where I died."

The magister is silent for the rest of the trip back, no matter how much Valen tries to get further answers or just talk casually to him.

Evil break for bad art

Valen gets answers from Hogan eventually, cause the magister has just been kinda spacey ever since and Valen is worried

Tells him "the magister is a graveborn, he just keeps forgetting."

It takes a while to get answers about the tree and the crown cause Hogan has zero clue what Valen is on about, but eventually he finds some old texts about the magister and there's also some drawings/paintings thingies with it in, and Hogan is like

"Ouhhh that's not a crown, that's just a headpiece, he probably died with that and finding it at his place of death was his way of verifying the memories of his death were real." but in hogan words.

Hogan eventually decides after enough moping that Valen should take the magister to his grave. For closure. And because he keeps asking if he has a name, and the grave is probably his best bet. Merlin's Grave actually being Merlin's grave is a well kept secret amongst the heroic order so...

Valen talks to Merlin a little on the way cause he's still being quiet and mopey and tries to be funny about it like "wow who'd have guessed Merlin's grave was at the place called Merlin's grave!"

They have to go in at night, but since magister Merlin is the one requesting access they don't have to sneak around to get underneath the temple, they're pretty much told "the door to the grave itself doesn't open so I'm not sure how you'll get in there but whatever" and left alone

Except Merlin immediately opens the door with his magic. Because he sealed it. When he left. With his magic.

They find out it's more of a tomb than a grave, the part where the body should be is wide open and unsurprisingly empty, but both are unsettled by the claw marks all over the inside of the stone coffin (and on some of the outside edges). Merlin decides not to give too much thought to how long he must've been trying to get out for when he reanimated, and just goes to read the name carved onto the lid of the coffin.

He and Valen turn to each other.

"Is that really it?"

"It must be.."

"Never call me that. Ever. This makes me want to die again so they recarve it."

"...You've definitely come up with better since I've known you..."

"No, no, Valen I think this is what my parents called me..."

"..."

"..."

"...did they hate you or something?"

They leave the grave with a (surprisingly) happier Merlin, but also both very disturbed by the claw marks.

Extra(s)

In this au the magister just randomly hands Valen cheese and Valen has never questioned this, he just eats it. It's been happening for so long that Valen actually gets excited when the magister pulls out cheese now.

The name on the tomb is Clitus Bottom

[desceros]

rotating your fics in my head again, as i often do (they will haunt me for the rest of my life... in a good way), and i just wanted to thank you for not specifying the reader's race - or, i guess a better way to put it would be not making them... white-coded, like 99% of other people do

it's less something that i'm mad about and more just kind of... tired of seeing. i'm so used to it at this point that i just kinda ignore it and tweak the writing in my brain, and it's nice to not have to do that for once! no more of a guy running his fingers through my hair. no... no you will not, sir. not easily, anyway. have fun getting stuck in my curls

i'm absolutely delighted to hear that!! :D

in the past, i'd read that a lot of specifically black readers have trouble inserting themselves into fics because of (unintentional, i'm sure) white-coding. and that made me really sad, especially when there are such small things you can do that not only make your writing better, but also make it more inclusive! so i chose to eliminate those things from my writing years ago, as much as possible.

like... okay, when you get embarrassed. you don't feel yourself blush, specifically. you feel your face get hot. this happens regardless of race. it's a more tangible description for a reader to have to a pov character, AND it has the bonus of not coding light-colored skin. sure, you now have to write around the fact that there's not an obvious red blush for other characters to react to... but not only do i not mind, i find that more compelling! maybe the pov character shifts their weight from foot to foot and tangles their fingers together. deviates their gaze, clears their throat, rubs the back of their neck, gives an embarrassed little laugh. see how much more vivid that is? and it has the bonus point of not making a dark-skinned reader feel alienated.

hair, too, as you mention is an excellent example. i try not to mention hair specifically because of that very conundrum. for example, 4c hair acts very differently to someone's fingers than 2a and to straight hair. short hair is different from long hair. there are some exceptions (for example, i have a particular hair style in mind for viola-chan), but even then i try to keep it as vague as i can within those choices. viola-chan puts her hair up into a bun when she plays... but what that bun looks like, how it acts outside of that is up for your imagination. i don't say how it's styled, how it's washed, in the same way that i don't specify what scent your perfume is.

now, i'm not going to say that every author Should be so specifically inclusive. it's not my place to say what people Should be creating with their art. if someone wants to write a story about a character blushing a bright pink with another character threading fingers seamlessly through their silky smooth hair, that's their prerogative. i've just chosen to try and have fics that are more inclusive, because i want black readers to feel welcome. i want asian readers to feel welcome. i want someone who wears a hijab to feel welcome. etc. i'm never going to be perfect; i'm going to make mistakes, i'm going to code for whiteness simply because i'm white and it's my worldview. i'm never going to write a fic that perfectly represents every reader. but i will go out of my way to reduce it as much as possible, because i see that pain in non-white readers and i really dislike it.

[dark-romantics]

INTJ: empty elevators, old buildings and spirales staircases, puzzles, deep meaningful conversations, museums, alone time, any time between 12am-5am, sarcasm, earphones, science, big libraries, bookstores, the smell of books, rainy days, thunderstorms

INFP: Smiles directed at strangers, cuddles, vivid daydreams, sunlight streaming through windows, an autumn palette, messy buns, glasses that slide down your nose, half-written stories, sea-foam green, a large coffee mug filled with tea, constellations, window seats

ENFP: bulletin boards with inspiring quotes, humming along off-key beneath your breath, bare feet on hot sand, pinterest projects, improvised road trips, paint smeared on your hands and face, butterflies in your stomach, silly nicknames, sugar rush, compliments from strangers, good morning texts

INFJ: deeply meaningful conversations, contemporary art galleries, bookstores and libraries with high ceilings, writing and reading poetry, handwritten love letters, art-house films, psychology, stationery stores, the vastness of the universe, bottled messages, automatically reading others' souls

ESTJ: skyscrapers, railroads, a river that flows through a city, going underwater, iron bridges, old paper, vintage champagne, broken-down fountains, city limits, cathedrals, borderlines, Greek architecture, arches, windows, heavy wooden doors, locks, buildings overgrown with vines

-

ENFJ: the leaves as they change colors, comforting words in the middle of the night, swimming with dolphins, self compassion, dancing around the room with your friends at 3 AM, street photography, the way smiles are contagious, screaming at a concert, puns that are so bad you can't help but laugh, pranks, mirrors, a tight hug

ESFJ: sunflowers, your first kiss, cities during the daytime, standing art a crosswalk, art museums, running through sprinklers, dancing without music, bathing in sunshine, falling in love, streetlights, thick hair, smiling at a mirror, children's laughter, drawing words with sparklers, gold glitter, whispered secrets, flower crowns, flipping on a lightswitch

ISFP: curling up with a book by a fireplace, cozy blankets, charcoal drawings, hot chocolate, poetry, lens flares, cat fur, white sand, the night sky, original grimm fairy tales, ambiguity, acrylic paints, a crescent moon, photography, fingers flying over piano keys, liminal space, doorways, social activism, the line between thoughts and reality

ISTJ: finishing homework right away, instruction manuals, calm before the storm, hugs when you most need them, graphite streaks on your palms, polishing a sword, glass shards, brass knuckles, netting, methodical sketches, geometry, permanent marker, bold letters, metal-rimmed glasses, dark smoke, oxygen masks, cold showers, static, skylights

-

ISFJ: fresh baked cookies, light filtered through leaves, porch swings, disney movies, sketches in the margins of your notes, the sound of waves, oversized hoodies, holding hands, embroidery, down feathers, showing your bare back, seeing veins through pale skin, black and white photographs, a flute melody, touching a butterfly's wing, rocks in a stream

ESTP: bruises on knees, an adventurer through & through, adrenaline rush, a mischievous grin, spontaneous, party animal, likes to be center of attention, nurturing and selfless, fearless, spends 80% of their time online, big on physical touch, gets out of trouble very easily, flirty af

ISTP: