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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/auspicioustidings/734619885087375360/i-cannot-write-for-shit-right-now-so-any-little

Hmmmm I’m seeing so many x single mom readers and not sure if this is something you’re even interested in BUT

Simon meeting his pretty new neighbor while she’s moving I and realizes she is either a.) heavily pregnant or b.) has a very young baby so Simon goes “hmmmm mine now :)” and helps her out a little? (Alternatively, if you don’t wanna do Simon for this, then maybe Price?)

(Also if you haven’t read @peachesofteal’s Light On fic, Simon x single mom reader, I implore if you to do so!!! It’s so good)

Peaches Light On fics, and I am being so deadass serious, give me such a flood of serotonin any time I see a new one. Everyone get your butt over there because they are the standard for single mother content as far as I am concerned!

That being said, I've put a bit of a twist on this so it's not really what you requested at all, sorry :') I could not do a similar idea to Peaches because there is nothing I can do to improve perfection!

Tactical Action

Words: 1.1k

CWs: mentions of death

“It's not a shame Price, it's fucking ridiculous.”

Simon Riley was furious looking at the paperwork. It wasn't often that TF141 kept tabs on a promising rookie so when they did he expected nothing but excellence. What he did not expect was a large ‘Early Service Leaver’ stamp over an otherwise exemplary record.

“Their brother died in that warship collision, can't blame them for wanting out.”

“My brother was murdered, I kept fucking going.”

He had met you once when Johnny had dragged him. His Sergeant was both excited and annoyed that someone had gotten the new record for the 3rd selection phase. It made sense to get some feel for you then, if you were as good at escape, evasion and tactical questioning as the test scores suggested then the 141 needed to have you on their radar because the PMCs certainly would.

You were a determined thing, shoulders back and addressing them with just the right amount of respect. Not arrogant, but not a pushover. Soap had been talking about how much he wanted to get his hands on you the whole drive back to base because he was a horny idiot and you were a challenge he found intriguing. Simon had just rolled his eyes and added your record to the small pile in Price's office.

He knew a little of your background. Both parents gone, one sibling in the navy. Well one sibling now KIA. He could have understood taking leave, but to quit entirely? It made him angry, he thought it was a waste of potential. Price could see how it affected him and he sighed.

“Go talk to them then. But do not get yourself reported for harassment and intimidation Simon, if they don't want back in then we make our peace with that.”

That was all the permission he needed. He probably should have taken Soap really, someone who could be comforting and coax you back. But fuck it, you were supposed to be good under pressure so he was going to give you some hard damn advice on not bloody giving up.

–

Exhausted didn't even begin to describe how you felt. This was the hardest thing you had ever done, but you were not going to just give up. You couldn't, not with this tiny thing relying on you.

She had never even got to meet her parents. Your brother died just before the due date in that accident and then his girlfriend had died from complications in childbirth. You had promised her you would look after their baby if anything happened, made an oath that you'd not let her parents anywhere near such an innocent little thing.

So you were on your own with nothing but grief and exhaustion and an ever dwindling death in service payment. They would pay part of your brother's pension out each month at least for the baby, but you were terrified that it wouldn't be enough to give her a life she deserved. She certainly deserved her parents and not her fathers ill equipped sibling, but you could only do your best even with the knowledge it would never be enough.

You flinched when there was a hard knock at the door of your flat, freezing but taking a breath when the baby remained sleeping in your arms. You needed to move at one point you knew, a flat in a bit of a rough area was fine for a soldier (ex-soldier you reminded yourself) but not so much for a baby.

The security you had upgraded as best you could at the moment and you checked the door camera to see Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. You had met him briefly once, but what was a legend like him doing here? Shit. You knew you looked a wreck but it wasn't like you could ignore him so you opened the door, bouncing baby girl gently to keep her sleeping.

Simon's planned tirade died the moment he saw the situation. You had a baby. Oh that changed his tirade significantly. Your marital status had listed single, so he could only assume you had gotten yourself knocked up by some casual hookup. That was unacceptable in a soldier, so bloody stupid.

“Shit” you cursed when she woke up, heading back inside and giving him a nod of invite.

You bounced her and tried to coo at her to go back to sleep. To please God go back to sleep. You never knew what she wanted, it felt like whatever you did was always wrong. And of course then she started wailing and the Lieutenant was in your flat closing the door behind him witnessing your absolute failure to take care of a baby.

“Oh for Christ sake, give her here.”

Simon took the baby and hoisted the little thing up onto his shoulder, rubbing hard at her back.

“When was the last time you fed her?”

“I- well, just before you got here. 10 minutes ago maybe? Just got her to sleep.”

“Did you burp her?”

“Oh. I…” you replied, straining yourself in an attempt not to cry. “No. I forgot.”

While his eyes were sharp on you his hands and voice were gentle and soothing for the baby. He was good at this. Did he have kids? Fuck was everyone just innately good at caring for babies but you?

“Didn't stop to think if you could take care of her before having her?”

“She's not mine. Well I suppose she is. I'm her only living relative, or only decent one at least. I, um… that warship accident from a few months back. My brother died during it and her mum passed during the birth. I'm her legal guardian now. I'm what she has sir, it was the best tactical action given the circumstance” you said, straightening up despite your exhaustion and prolonged terror at being responsible for such an innocent little thing.

Simon cocked his head to the side as the baby on his shoulder burped and gurgled, now trying to get back to sleep. You were still a soldier he saw then, you were fighting back your emotions to give him a report on the situation. He reevaluated after the sitrep and took a moment to find the best course of action.

“Marry me then.”

“Sir?”

“We can get it done tomorrow. Might take a bit of time to get a decent house but we'll stay in my flat until then, better area. Still going to be out on assignment a lot but any death benefit would go to you and the widows pension would set you up for life. I'm what you have rookie, it's the best tactical action.”

“Yes sir.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #well at least the implication is a slow burn in which they do fall in love #they just do it all very out of order #baby > marriage > moving in > sleeping together > dating #Soap is gonna be pissed

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yan-lorkai · 5 months

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could you do TWST head cannons with a reader who plays the drums and had a more 'rebellious style' but is very polite?

(any characters you like, but maybe ruggie or silver?)

☆*: Silver knows that judging a book by its cover is a fatal mistake, as appearances are very deceiving about a person's real character. So he would never judge you based on what you wear, otherwise he would be betraying his father's teachings and that is something he would never do.

☆*: Furthermore, he knows that you are a very polite and nice person. He hears good things about you from his dad and his classmates all the time, and it's possible he's even interacted with you before if you were part of the music club. Lilia sometimes invites his son to his practices and shows and Silver regularly appears there to show his support for his father.

☆*: Even though drums are a different instrument than the one his father plays, Silver knows a thing or two about caring for it. So he sometimes helps you take care of and polish your instrument, as well as asking you little questions about why you chose to play the drums, how many songs you know how to play. Anyway, he likes your style and the music you produce. If someone ever spoke badly about you around him because of the way you dress, he would give that person an endless lecture.

☆*: At Savanaclaw it's kill or be killed, so your politeness is something that made quite an impression on him the first time you two crossed paths. I mean, you have this rebellious and confident look, he kind of expected you to be like the other beastmen who think they are better than him because they are wolves or lions, or some other strong beast. He expected you to feel superior to him, he's just a hyena after all, but that was a silly thought that he quickly dismissed after you treated him with kindness and politeness.

☆*: You even gave him one of your donuts and patted his head! What kind of bad person would do that? Obviously you weren't bad, far from it, you were an angel! Therefore, anyone who makes fun of you because of your style or your drumming skills will mysteriously suffer minor accidents. Each of them worse than the other if they don't learn their lesson.

☆*: After your first interaction, Ruggie found himself interested in you. So occasionally he would show up to your shows and practices to watch you play and wow, you play well. He doesn't know much about drums, but as he wants to spend time with you, he asks you to teach him a little. He doesn't have money to buy a drum or any other instrument right now, but when he can he knows his grandma and the kids would love to hear him play. Even better if you're there to see it, but well, he can always send you a video.

☆*: Lilia saw you out of the corner of his eye for two seconds and automatically loved your rebellious style, floating towards you to talk and ask for fashion tips, after all, he also likes different styles and knows that the two of you together would be quite a duo. Yes, within five minutes of talking Lilia is already making big plans for the two of you as if you were best friends in the whole world. No, nothing you say or do will drive him away now.

☆*: Whether you join the music club or not, Lilia likes to hear you play. He has a talent for instruments and can help you improve yourself or correct small mistakes you may make without realizing while playing, offering tips and fixing your posture. He also likes to just sit and listen to you play as if nothing in the world could stop him from enjoying it.

☆*: He's like a kid excited about a new toy. And he will also cause accidents to anyone who talks badly about you because of the way you dress. You're so nice, so polite, he love how differently you are apart from your style. And people will treat you with respect or they're gonna deal with him! :)

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overtake · 2 months

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every time i remember that gifset of daniel laughing and talking pre-race with max and his dad in spa 2014 and realize that max saw daniel win his third race and red bull's 50th race live and IN PERSON....like daniel must have seemed so cool and larger than life. and then come to find out a few weeks later it's max's test and he had made a welcome video for him. like...it's too much they're TOO MUCH.

This response got ludicrously long.

It’s such “fated to be in each other’s lives forever” shit. It’s always been Max and Daniel. In 2011, before Max was even a red bull junior. In 2014 at spa, ahead of Max being announced for toro rosso. In video form at his super license drive, when Max being his future teammate wouldn’t have even been thought in Daniel’s mind. The things Max got to see Daniel achieve and dream that he might have that and more, and the hot guy doing it is paying attention to him.

He wins that race and backs him, saying he couldn’t have done what he’s about to do and saying Max has the talent to be there… I just know it was good to hear that the man you just watched on the podium believes you deserve this oppprtunity. And if he wasn’t ready at your age and is sitting in front of you a three time winner, what can you achieve by his age?

Obviously, Max has never needed other people’s validation on his skill. He knew he could be successful and had no issue staring his naysayers down. He’s a cactus, not a delicate orchid. You cannot kill him. Your opinions mean nothing to him if you are not in his inner circle (though Daniel certainly worked his way into being someone whose opinion Max holds, hears, and values).

But still, it has to be nice to hear back then that there are people with achievements you want who believe you’re capable of getting there. Even the most brave-faced sixteen year old (with a father who tries to toughen his emotional resolve by saying he will never be anything more than a truck driver) still appreciates having someone believe in him, even if he doesn’t need the validation.

I think people tend to wrongly characterize young Max as some delicate friendless loser and Daniel was the only person to ever show him kindnesses etc etc etc. Max is extremely confident and never relied on Daniel to build self-worth or whatever pathetic way people try to write him. But he always just glowed around him — textbook of that first crush that makes you have the italics “oh. oh” moment. It’s very apparent that Daniel meant a lot to Max as a teammate and that the two of them just liked being around each other, such an anomaly for that era of f1 (ex: like they mentioned in on the sofa 2017, Lewis, — who had been busy with the life altering downfall of his relationship with Nico — was in awe of Max and Daniel and asked for the scholarship of how they got along so well).

It’s so clear that this draw between them started for Max so early from just the way he looks at Daniel on that phone, shy and not knowing quite what to say, and his gaze lingering on it even after it stops playing with that smile. He has to tear his attention away to say his sweet little praise of Daniel. Daniel respected Max as a serious competitor from day one with his quotes about Max’s talents, and that already meant something to Max — but then he also went ahead and liked Max and was kind to Max in a time where he was drenched in doubters.

It’s a great tragedy that we will never know what it would’ve been like to see the two of them in a car that could compete for championships. Obviously tensions would have altered their relationship (I mean, the Renault engine frustration and natural increase in rivalry as it became Max’s team already meant their relationship improved post-leaving), but I’m going to be delusional and think that they never could have hated each other in that bone-deep way because they like each other in a way that is so natural that it feels encoded in their DNA.

Things would have gotten messy as competitive battles do, with many a wall punched and inflammatory quotes in the media pen — especially as Daniel would have to reckon with the inevitability of Max being a generational talent whose already sharp elbows in their early days only doled out more hits on the road to WDC. It’d be claws out, teeth bared tension.

Still, I employ my delusion to say that in that universe, at the end of their careers, they could sit on Daniel’s farm and still enjoy being around each other — like Daniel said in 2019, they had a heated rivalry and pushed each other, but there was always respect. At the end of the day, Max has never stopped looking at Daniel outside the track with anything but effusive love, and Daniel is always there looking back with his mouth open and ready to make Max laugh — and I genuinely believe they would have cared enough about each other to keep their fight contained to the environment and time period and rebuild anything lost when it’s all said and done.

It’s the eternal thesis of them, that everyone has said a million times over: they like each other so much, so genuinely, without a veneer of fakeness and PR to it. They’d like each other in any universe in any conditions, even ones where they were built to hate each other. There could still be fighting and resentment and cold shoulders, but they are not built to hate each other, and that’s why I like them so much.

#ask #i wrote this in the shower and it’s been the world’s longest shower #so sorry to the environment #maxiel

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wrathful-banette · 4 months

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sooo.... I've been getting into slay the princess. here are some headcanons for the voices if they were given free reign to exist in the outside world. also they all live in the same house since I'm a sucker for that trope. also the princesses be there

under the cut because it will be very long. endgame spoilers for stp btw.

Voice Of The Hero:

the one that everyone is at least mostly chill with.

all the other voices have a fair amount of experience with him, considering the routes.

overall a pretty kind and considerate guy ←this is literally just canon what am I going on about

Can very easily miss subtext and sarcasm also.

↑the contrarian exploits this for friendly reasons!

↑↑the cold exploits this for evil reasons

I imagine he would look basically like a smaller the long quiet.

him and the contrarian are thick as thieves, as well as him and the long quiet.

struggles with feelings of loneliness and disconnection from the world around him.

semi-frequent nightmares, ranging from mostly being unpleasant dreams to "waking up in the middle of night terrified." thankfully, the latter option is rather rare for him.

very fond of physical affection.

Voice Of The Contrarian:

he's a crow!

very good at using reverse psychology.

However, this comes at the cost of being very susceptible to reverse psychology himself.

forgets to preen with alarming frequency, with surprisingly little consequence.

extremely loyal to those he cares for, just in weird ways.

Shares the hero's trait of being rather susceptible to loneliness.

he really likes giving the other voices nicknames! it's a show of affection for him.

him and hero kind of have what you'd call a bromance going on.

Voice Of The Hunted:

a sandpiper.

He's grown a lot more comfortable with the others, even though he still retains his prey animal mindset in a lot of ways.

very frequently puttering around making sure "the flock" (the other voices) are doing okay.

↑ especially when it comes to food!! his ass WILL make sure you've eaten

one of the main driving forces reminding the broken to eat drink and preen himself.

very meticulous about preening himself, but somehow even more meticulous with the others (headcanon inspired by someone else idr who sadly)

Can go from just standing on the ground normally to flying like 20 feet in the air in just a couple seconds.

he can and has done this on pure instinct when he's been startled outdoors.

desperately wants to carry people around you should totally let him do that pleasepleasepleaseplease

Very nervous around the beast/den, but has been calming down a bit in that respect.

surprisingly protective over the other voices, the broken and paranoid especially.

Voice Of The Smitten:

flamingo <3

struggles with feelings of inadequacy, feeling like he has to give 110% to the acts of service with the damsel at all times, even when that just isn't feasible for him.

He has a... complex relationship with the stubborn.

He struggles to understand how the hell his relationship with the adversary even functions, but is able to respect it for the most part.

↑This respect was only fostered when they almost got into a physical fight because the smitten questioned if he really loved the adversary.

Smitten's really bad at asking for help, sees it as unbecoming for himself.

For this same reason, he's also terrible at expressing his more genuinely bad feelings.

overpreens when stressed, leading to bald spots which he always gets extremely self-conscious and embarrassed about. nobody knows he gets these except himself.

resents the voice of the cold for the burned grey route, but refuses to give him the time of day about it.

Voice of the Broken:

He's been doing better. the others have been helping the best they can.

surprisingly enough however, one of the biggest catalysts for his improving mental health has been... the nightmare/moment of clarity?

it started off as her not having any fun messing with somebody who was already so beaten down, but the paradigm has long sense shifted from that.

Don't get me wrong, he's still a pushover. but less so now.

^these headcanons courtesy of @kalkori btw (hiii kb :3)

His feathers are a mess most of the time. the hunted is his saving grace in this respect.

actually, him and the hunted have grown rather close, in their own weird way.

Voice of The Stubborn:

he's a shoebill stork!

him and the adversary/eye of the needle are in a relationship together.

They've since branched out and gotten other hobbies other than beating the shit out of eachother (though they still do that frequently),

like beating the shit out of invasive plants, and picking fights with the more powerful princesses together

^the tower has not known a moment of peace since this began. she will not know a moment of peace again.

he frequently wrestles with the long quiet for fun!

hotblooded in the most literal way possible. actual walking heater.

likes pestering the skeptic.

Voice of the Paranoid:

most of these headcanons are also going to be courtesy of kb they are the number one voice of the paranoid fan to me

He's a Bittern! longass neck having ass

he is straight up sneef snorfin it

Frequently overpreens, leading to multiple bald spots.

the long quiet has put him into a longass cone over this one at least one occasion.

unlike the smitten, he doesn't really care about the bald spots.

buddies with the hunted!

is not happy about the whole "Moment Of Clarity hanging out with the broken" deal. Is only going along with it because he seems so much happier nowadays. (relative to how he was before, anyway.)

Will instinctively start muttering "heart lungs liver nerves" whenever he senses she's near.

By the way, the mantra still works. and now he can do it on other people, same body or not.

Considering using this ability to become a doctor!

extends his neck out really far on instinct whenever he feels threatened. just bittern things <3

Also, him and the smitten are friends, against all odds. nobody knows how their friendship functions with the way they are

Voice of the Cheated:

dont have a solid bird idea for him but a dodo bird could be really fun

i love him he sucks so much

Somehow keeps getting himself injured in ways that he just straight up could Not feasibly predict or prevent. he is NOT taking it in stride.

absolutely despises the opportunist, considers him a slimy, cheating bastard.

Isn't allowed to participate in board game sessions anymore.

not after the incident.

but he is allowed to observe and call people out if they try and cheat.

He's mellowed out a bit since the construct. just a bit.

he hates preening himself, and tends to get fidgety when other people preen him. but he always relents eventually, if only because he very much dislikes how uncomfortable it is to have unpreened feathers.

Voice of the Cold

also someone who's mellowed out a bit. Still, his walls are up.

But it's a lot harder to keep up a facade of disconnection when you have your own body. when you're more than just an observer. he tries regardless. And mostly succeeds. But the long quiet knows the truth.

The spectre and moment of clarity will sneak up behind him and try to jumpscare him with cold hands on his shoulders. it never works.

always ridiculously cold. counteracts this with the power of always layering.

butts heads with the smitten a lot. and the stubborn, actually.

He considers both of them hopeless romantics with nothing better to do except fawn over their partners.

Voice of the Skeptic

He'd probably be some kind of owl?

i'm gonna be honest i ain't got much for him but he does get along well with the paranoid, being able to reign him in from his more... impulsive worries.

Nobody realises that him and the prisoner are in a relationship. they don't plan on telling anyone until they find out.

he enjoys puzzles of any kind! jigsaw, logic, math, crossword, you name it.

good at white lies, but terrible at telling lies with any sort of substance or ill intent behind them.

tends to pace around a lot when deep in thought.

him and stubborn are shitasses to eachother most of the time.

Voice of the Opportunist

definitely a vulture.

he sucks so goddamn much i love him

he's actually turned the two-faced-ness down a bit since the construct. just a bit.

likes hanging out with the smitten, he thinks he's funny. No, no, he's not getting attached. shut it.

him and the witch hang out a lo too, but in a way that involves, well. a lot of biting.

they basically just playfight, but like. fighting dirty playfighting.

...He tends to avoid the thorn. he feels a bit guilty around her.

quiet ass footsteps. he just... appears in places sometimes. refuses to acknowledge this.

he eats bugs. and a lot of other weird things, actually.

both of these are because he's pretty much always hungry. if you leave food out he will have some.

he is much more impulsive than he would have you believe.

aaand that's all of them for now! if you read all of this we are now married /j

#slay the princess #stp #voice of the hero #voice of the contrarian #voice of the hunted #voice of the smitten #voice of the broken #voice of the stubborn #voice of the paranoid #voice of the cheated #voice of the cold #voice of the skeptic #voice of the opportunist #slay the princess spoilers #op

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night-raven-tattler · 25 days

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A second opinion - Resorting the Night Raven College students into different dorms

Summary: Based on their personal headcanons and this post made by @thoselethalarts, Mx Tattly took it upon themselves to sort the NRC students into dorms different than their own - just for fun! She'd appreciate your feedback and opinions, as he is no Magic Mirror, so feel free to add your imput!

Characters: First year notable students (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho and Sebek)

Other parts of the series: Second year notable students, Third year notable students

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A good fit for Heartslabyul's strict environment would be Sebek!

He is a boy with a very strong code of conduct that he follows religiously. Sebek is very strict with himself and follows his personal rules and daily routine with no exception. He puts a lot of value in the importance of rules and authority figures to maintain peace and order, since it's the only thing he knows: as a hopefully royal guard to be, Sebek believes in his liege first and in himself second. And, as a guard, he is very protective.

Sebek believes his way of thinking is the correct one and has no shame in trying to instill his views on others. He considers that he is doing what's right for his liege and the world, and no one can convince him otherwise. He'd make a good card soldier, maybe a spade suit or a heart suit.

『••✎••』

Deuce would make a good candidate for Savanaclaw.

He has an ironclad willpower and determination in spades (pun intended), which are his main driving forces in life. He is determined to become a honor student and to right all the wrongs he's ever done, a resolution he clings to harder and harder with every day.

Deuce is gutsy, and when push comes to shoves he is ready to fight back. He has a strong sense of loyalty, and he is willing to do anything for the ones he considers part of his "gang". He is a dedicated friend and family member and believes in payback, especially when he has been wronged in some way.

『••✎••』

Another good candidate for the Savanaclaw student spot is Epel!

His initial wish to be sorted in Savanaclaw was not random. Epel has the (in)famous Savanaclaw willpower and determination. Epel knows what he wants -he wants to be a strong mage who can help Harveston thrive- and his pride for his community is unwavering. He knows how hard he needs to fight and he is willing to work himself to the bone when needed.

Epel also is somewhat of an idealist, and he has big dreams for himself. From being a great mage to someone his whole hometown will be proud of, Epel strives to be this amazing, reliable figure worth of respect and who doesn't deserve belittling. He won't back down from any fight, even if he has to throw the first punch, and he gets back up even after losing.

『••✎••』

Ace would fit well in Scarabia.

He is a clever and cunning boy, who knows when to be straightfoward and when to be sneaky. From facing his own housewarden to pretending to ask Leona a smart question in order to not be used a bait, Ace is intelligent and can read situations very well, skills he uses to his advantage. He is also not above playing roles and feigning innocence if the end goal appeals to him.

Ace is resourceful, playful and knows what to say in a moment of need, making him very adaptable to any situation. Despite still getting into trouble, he insists it is part of his calculated risk. He is good at math, but sometimes you gotta make sacrifices (re: get put on cleaning duty) for a good outcome (re: a nap at the back of the class).

『••✎••』

Pomefiore is a dorm whose values Jack would resonate with.

Jack is a boy who strives to improve himself in every area he can. Academics, sports, even with his hobbies, he always strives to become smarter, faster, wiser, better. Self improvement is his main driving force, and he loves knowing that he is improving, since he knows very well just how hard he is working to achieve his best self.

Generally speaking, Jack is very self aware and knows what his skills and strong points are. He is self assured, meticulous and last but not least, aware of his potential, which he cultivates every day without fail.

『••✎••』

Another good pick for Pomefiore would be Ortho!

Ortho is, above all else, very proud of his own skills and achievements. He is the only humanoid with the ability to learn and feel, that's quite an achievement! Yet he is not satisfied, as he knows technology (him included) will always have space for improvement. From making and maintaining his gears to joining clubs to extend his knowledge on human reactions, Ortho wants to become even better, and he is an unstoppable force.

Being a Shroud, Ortho comes with his own eccenticities, like calling everyone by their full names and considering using powerful lasers as a solution for most of his problems. Maybe it's because he's an android, but Ortho can get quite reckless and engage in risky behavior.

『••✎••』

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #tattler's student files

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dotster001 · 2 years

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I'm not sure if requests are open, but if they are, could I request Leona, Vil, and Jamil with a fem s/o who's very sweet and gentle in nature but is actually the daughter of a Mafia boss?

(Thank you for your patience my beloved Anon 🥺 I know this has been sitting in my inbox for a while and I adore you for not yelling at me. A million kissies for you!)

Summary:Fem!reader x Leona/Vil/Jamil

CW: Mafia stuff (poison, hitmen, etc), fem reader

He starts out thinking that the only reason you're still alive is because of him, especially after his overblot, where you didn't flee the danger. You're just so sweet and naive, you're begging for someone to take advantage of you. That's why when he starts dating you he's a little overprotective. He'll pass it off as "defending what's his", but really he's just worried about you. (Mans respects women too much to really think like that. He's not fooling anyone)

Then one day, you're missing home, and telling him about your family. And….you start just saying the most concerning things, not even thinking about it. He's given up napping a long time ago when you start talking about the time your driver rear ended someone, changed your license plate quickly, and threw a wad of cash at the person he hit before driving away.

He just outright asks you, "Is your dad a Mafia boss?"

And you answer, "yeah" with that bright smile he adores on your face. He starts asking more questions, to figure things out…and you don't seem to understand the implications of it. You've always just been daddy's little princess, no questions asked.

He doesn't actually mind, especially once he finds out that you yourself have never been hurt or in danger (though he takes that with a grain of salt, considering you don't seem to have noticed). He's a member of a monarchy that is who knows how old. He one hundred percent has relatives who have done worse. But if you ever find a way to go back and forth between worlds, he will be extra vigilant to make sure nothing happens to you.

Vil has never once questioned why you were so quick to adapt to his celebrity lifestyle. You don't question the body guards, you're okay wearing disguises, you're not uncomfortable with his expensive gifts/skincare/restaurant visits. In a word, you're perfect, and need little help adapting. And his fans adore you. They love how sweet you are and adore how you take care of Vil for them.

However, when you spot that jealous fan before his bodyguards do, and subtly move Vil to safety, he decides to question things.

And quickly finds out your dad was a Mafia boss, and a rival boss had put a hit on you once.

While you are sweet and naive, and don't quite seem to understand why it happened in the first place, a part of you is constantly on alert, and checking people's body language to protect yourself and your loved ones.

For a while after that, Vil beefs up his security. He doesn't want you to even have to think like that. You should be able to believe that both him and you are safe! He will not have his precious apple blossom going prematurely gray over this!

As always, you are able to soothe the constant simmering rage he has inside him, and reassure him that you do feel safe, you just happened to notice the fan that one time. You knew the body guards could handle it, you just wanted to help.

Soothe him with soft cheek kisses. He needs to relax, and that'll help.

So you've managed to lull the ever on guard Jamil Viper into a place of happy complacency. Congratulations!

He worries sometimes you are too much like Kalim. But at least you help him with his chores, and work very hard not to make more work for him. So he can handle the naivete. (Also, unlike Kalim, you're his girlfriend, so he can get cuddles and kisses from you. It's a major improvement in his book, but he'll never admit it)

When you spend summer break in the Scalding Sands with him, he becomes surprised when you flip a man who was about to poison the food Jamil was about to taste test for Kalim.

After that's dealt with, he sits you down and asks where the fuck you learned that.

You tell him about the self defense classes you got from your bodyguard.

Which leads to more questions.

He knows that you aren't the member of the Mafia. He of all people understands how you can't choose what family you are born into. But he is conflicted. The Mafia equivalent in the Scalding Sands wants Kalim dead…and as Kalim's protector, if they succeed it means he is dead as well.

Honestly, he's trying not to think about it. It doesn't affect your relationship, but if he ever does meet your family, he is going to have to work hard to get past those thoughts in his head about your dad wanting him dead. It's become a mantra, They aren't the same mafia, They aren't the same mafia, They aren't the same mafia

....

Tag list-@stygianoir @shytastemakerthing @lleoll

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #jamil viper #twst jamil #vil x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #twisted wonderland leona

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the-meat-machine · 3 months

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In Defense of Ultimate Dirk

I am going to be honest: I have a hard time understanding why people think Ultimate Dirk is out of character. Because if there is one character I can believe would willingly take on the role of the villain if he thought it meant saving everything he held dear, it's Dirk.

See, Ultimate Dirk isn't Dirk just randomly becoming a villain. He's not suddenly acting mean for no reason. It's not even that he was destined to be a villain (though Dirk believes he was, and that plays into it). Ultimate Dirk is Dirk deliberately playing up his own worst traits in order to make himself the villain because that's the only path forward he can see -- not just for himself, but for everyone.

The way I see it, in the post-canon, Dirk's growing powers make him uncomfortably aware of several massive problems.

Problem 1

Dirk is a fictional character. All of his friends are fictional characters. And the story he's from is over. Without more canon coming out, Dirk is convinced that everyone and everything he loves is doomed to a slow slide into irrelevance. They will fade out of the public consciousness. Everyone will forget about them. And outside of the minds of the creator and the audience, Dirk et al. have no existence. Without more stories about them, there is no more of them. In Dirk's view, the end of canon is tantamount to death -- and not just for him. For everyone he cares about. This is the fundamental problem driving Ultimate Dirk. Nothing could be more important than ensuring that his friends' stories get to continue.

Problem 2

Dirk's growing Heart powers mean he is becoming intimately familiar with his friends' internal lives. More familiar than anyone would reasonably want to be. More familiar than anyone can be while retaining their own sanity and their respect for their friends. Dirk sees all the ways they're failing to live up to their potential. In fact, he can't NOT see all their little flaws, all the mistakes they make, all the bad decisions they justify to themselves, all the ways they could be more than they are but fail to live up to. To someone like Dirk, who feels intensely driven to guide his friends toward self-improvement, this must be absolutely maddening.

Problem 3

Dirk knows that his splinters are a Problem. Ultimate Dirk is the sum total of all Dirks, and that means that his consciousness now includes such luminaries as Bro Strider, Doc Scratch, Lord English, and Lil Cal. Ultimate Dirk knows intimately what his influence has wrought on Paradox Space, and it's not great! Splinters of his have had a hand in pretty much every awful thing that happens in Homestuck and in particular have deeply harmed Dave, the person who is perhaps most important to him in the universe. And now those splinters are part of him. He understands how they thought, why they did what they did. There are parts of him that feel that they were justified, even as he hates himself for it, hates himself for everything that he feels that he is. Everything he can see is pointing to him fundamentally being a callous, sadistic puppeteer. He's drowning in his own dismal persona and can't see any way to escape from it.

(One thing I'd like to note here is that Dirk's abilities as a fully realized Ultimate Prince of Heart, though extremely powerful, still have limitations. In particular, he cannot see the future. He can see what other versions of himself became, but he cannot see what he is going to become. But I don't think he notices that there's actually nothing that destines him to have to repeat his splinters' mistakes. His powers make him feel as though he already knows everything there is to know about himself. They make him inclined to see the Self as an immutable whole. It doesn't occur to him that the actions of his splinters don't have to dictate what he becomes. It doesn't occur to him that he could change.)

The "Solution"

So. Here is what I think is going on with Ultimate Dirk:

Dirk needs there to be more Homestuck. He wants his friends to live up to their potential. Forcing them to do so would be villainous… but a new villain is exactly what the story needs in order to continue. So, why not kill two birds with one stone? He can embrace the villainy he thinks he's destined to fall into anyway, puppeteer his friends to drag them in the directions he thinks they should go, and thereby spark a conflict that will kick off new stories and make his friends into even greater heroes. Really, he has the power to save his friends from oblivion. What sort of dick would he be if he didn't?

And if the course Dirk is planning ends with his own Just death at Dave's hands, well, it's only what he deserves... isn't it?

#homestuck post-canon #ultimate dirk #meatmeta #there. i summarized the point of the post-canon dirk wip i'll probably never finish for you. you're welcome

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orobaxis · 1 year

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meeting ominis gaunt in hogwarts (the slytherin silver quartet)

ominis gaunt x reader (hogwarts legacy)

-platonic (for now)

beware of spoilers in the comments/tags/reblogs!

okay so imagine being a halfblood living in one of the little hamlets around hogwarts

your parents sell wares, your mother put up a little table outside your house while your father is a travelling merchant

and sometimes you would beg your father to take you with him as he travels to other hamlets to trade and hawk wares

this is where you meet the twins from feldcroft, sebastian and anne

they took to you immediately, playing on your little brooms, trying to sneak past the scarecrow and giggling when it drives you away from the pumpkins

you three became fast friends, tearful goodbyes every time your father told you that it was time to leave

you make the twins promise to send you an owl, and they do! you exchange letters and gifts during birthdays and christmas, and you all go to hogsmeade together to shop for your school supplies when you got your owl from hogwarts

you three were nervous when you arrive at hogwarts--sebastian and anne were afraid of being separated, and you were afraid of being separated from them

so it was to everyone’s joy that you were all sorted to slytherin!

you happily sat across the twins in the great hall, beside a quiet boy you remember was called “ominis”

he hasn’t said a word to you, but you three introduced yourself to him

slowly and surely, he begins to hang out with you three, first just because you all had classes together

but eventually, you had somehow gotten him to hang out with you three!

you all especially liked to hang out in the DADA tower, listening to the quartet music, or have tea while you wait for your classes

ominis was quiet, doesn’t say much, but has really taken to sebastian and they became best friends

almost making you and anne jealous with their rapport

“they fight like old married couples!” you and anne giggle to each other, watching as they exchange snarky remarks

you basically do everything together, and when curfew sets in, you four are in the common room, by one of the large windows

anne has convinced people that if they look closely, they can spot mermaids swim past the windows (a blatant lie that you vouch for)

sebastian says nothing but ominis rolls his eyes, but they dont tell the other students otherwise

also imagine if ominis’ family hear about you being a half-blood

one of your parents is a muggle (let’s say your dad), but only blinked twice when your mother informed them of her magical powers

your dad took to the magical world so well that none of the other merchants even questioned it

they sent ominis a very strongly worded letter, reminding him of his last name and what it means, reminding him that he is salazar slytherin’s legacy and the importance of blood purity blah blah blah

ominis didnt have the same views his family have even before meeting you, and it certainly didnt change after that

if anything, he began to despise his family even more

how dare his family think so lowly of you, despite you being one of his best friends

how could you be any less than him when you take the time to answer all his questions and make sure you all sit down in the common room and work through several inches of parchments for your homework

why would he think any less of you when he finds you poring through dozens of books in the library, trying to see if there was any way to improve the spell he uses to navigate the castle

or when you would painstakingly and patiently describe to him the play by play of every quidditch match

if anything, ominis has the utmost respect for you

and eventually, it’ll grow into something else entirely...

not done playing hogwarts legacy yet but i love sebastian, anne, and ominis so much!! the true slytherin representation we deserve!!

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #harry potter imagine #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts imagine

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this-is-fox-speaking · 4 months

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i hope martin knows that the felix scene will haunt me forever and to the end of my days, if he’s able to top any of that shit in a future episode- especially other things like jack’s clear utter rage in the silence of the car only seen in his eyes, and the entire fucking susan death scene- i will be astounded. because this episode has made me the most uncomfortable that any other episode ever has. every other episode has been scary, this one was just entirely and downright uncomfortable. and that’s a good thing. i say it with the highest amount of respect. this episode makes everything from three years ago look like it’s made for literal children in terms of horror. and again it’s a high compliment because that goes to show how AMAZINGLY he’s improved and all the effort he and all the others who’ve helped put into this episode. watching felix sit in a grave of his own next to the dead kids, susan having her face mutilated and neck broken, jack driving in utter silent rage that can only be seen in his practically bulging eyes, seeing felix walk around covered in both his and two dead children’s blood, being able to feel the exact same fear as felix in just his little noise at this ghostly, mimic like voice of molly calling out his name and all that’s there being the rocket doll somehow now behind the door.. this episode is fucking. incredible. and i can’t wait to see what part two has in store.

#god i love this series…#the walten files #sorry this doesn’t make sense i can only gush right now… this episode is AMAZING. it’s INCREDIBLE.#fox·borks

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604to647 · 17 days

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Hat Trick - Part 2 (The Playoffs)

3.4K / Safest with You AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din eats you out while you watch a playoffs game. That’s it.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please) F!oral, fingering, nearing overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), m!masterbation, established relationship. Inadvertent hockey double entendres, possibly.

A/N: Vancouver won last night so I thought I should post this while they’re up 😂 Inspired by @beskarandblasters’s I Want It, I got It and @swiftispunk’s ask(s) from @arainbowsiren - thank y’all and your respective mens for their service 🫡🫡🤗. You can if you want, of course 😊 but no need to read Part 1, as it’s not a direct continuation. Anyways, go Canucks go! 🏒🏒

If dread is defined as “painful agitation in the presence or anticipation of danger,” then for the entirety of your relationship, Din has never dreaded seeing you. Not when either of you has had one of those bad day at work where you just need to vent for hours afterwards, or when Jimmy had accidentally used a sweater you left in Din’s office to towel off after a sparring session, or even that time Din took Al to the dog park by himself and didn’t realize the other dog moms were flirting with him until one of them shoved her number into his hand. Nope, it didn’t matter what nonsense was going on while you were apart, the moment he looks upon his pretty bird’s face, Din’s day automatically takes a turn for the better.

But these past few weeks, Din feels like it’s possible he’s being tested in this regard. Still not dread… maybe some mild foreboding? That sounds bad, he thinks. He’s worried is what he is.

Your hockey team is in the playoffs, and at first you were thrilled. But your excitement has quickly given way to a much more volatile emotional cocktail of anticipation, nervousness and agitation. If anything, you’re the one who’s been in a state of dread.

The first round was okay. Your team won the series 4-1; it was a little nerve-wracking after Game 2, but the team rallied and after some nail-biting overtime games, they prevailed. At your encouragement, he had hosted the series at his place since neither of you were able to get any tickets for the home games. You had readily cooked up a storm in the kitchen to work out your pregame nerves, and your friends and the Mandos came over to reaped the culinary benefits of your stress.

Your friends already knew this about you, of course, but Din is learning that playoffs you is very different from regular season you. Regular season you loves hockey. Playoffs you loves winning.

You’re the personification of nail-biting anxiety during every game; eyes glued to the screen, barely eating or drinking except during commercials or intermissions. Every missed shot on goal results in shouting and arms raised in frustration. Ever unanswered check on your players, vexation and name calling. Power plays or offensive drives that can't be capitalized on have you covering your face in defeat.

His pretty bird stresses.

It’s not all bitterness and disappointment, thankfully. Your face when your team scores lights up entire the room. Every save your goalie makes has you cheering in elation, high fiving everyone in sight with enthusiasm. When your team wins, your cute butt won’t stop wiggling with victory dance moves.

But the good cannot come without the bad. Penalties called against your team trigger a spitting of expletives Din didn’t think were possible from your sweet mouth. Holes in your defense that the other team exploits have you calling for someone’s head (the coach? The team captain? Din’s??!)

Every game is a rollercoaster of emotions.

Oh. And if your team loses… it’s like a dark cloud materializes over your head. Your mood is already gloomy when the final buzzer sounds, improving only to pouty and restless by the time you start nearing the next game.

Din doesn’t like to see you so stressed (over a game, he might add, if he didn’t seriously fear the repercussions of saying that out loud to you).

Round 2 has been… interesting. No, that's too forgiving. It’s been… a nightmare. You team is down 1-3 in the series and tonight is Game 5. The make-or-break game that will either eliminate your team from the playoffs, or let them live to fight another game where they can attempt to claw their way to a decider seventh game. After winning the series opener, the team’s three consecutive losses have left you nearly despondent - your mood getting progressively worse with every loss. It’s not that you were mean or snappish – you were still kind and helpful, and all sweetness with Din and his friends. But you smile a lot less and your playfulness is missing; you tell less jokes and your laughter, if any, is shorter and less vibrant than it is normally. This past week, there’s been an ever present tension in your body that doesn’t seem to melt away no matter how much affection Din shows you, and you’re constantly furrowing your brow at things you read on your phone.

When you start to make the grocery list for what you need to prepare the spread for Game 5, you call out to Din, “Baby, is Mayfeld going to come over for the game? If he is, I’ll have to get parsley for the garlic knots.”

“Oh… pretty bird, I think most of the guys are going to go to a sports bar for Game 5,” Din says with a bit a trepidation. He doesn’t say that he was the one who had made the suggestion that they do so, thinking it was unnecessary pressure for you to host a viewing party. When Woves and Mayfeld had complained, Din reminded them about how they had both spilled beer all over the carpet during a goal celebration during the last game. He had found you at 2 a.m. taking out your frustration over the loss with a brush, scrubbing the carpet vigorously on your hands and knees until he had managed to coax you back to bed for what was ultimately a night of restless tossing and turning.

“Did you want to go too?” you ask, wide-eyed.

“Nah, let’s just relax and watch here, baby,” Din’s smile is easy going, “I’ll order in, okay? No need to make food. It can just be a relaxing time.” He hopes he isn’t emphasizing the word relax too much.

You look at him for a beat and nod, before going back to the grocery list. Din exhales a little breath of relief.

Game 5 is not going well.

Your team is leading in shots on goal, but just can’t seem convert shots to goals. Din thinks it’s almost worse watching your body tense up in excitement, just to deflate in disappointment, over and over. The opposing team doesn’t seem to have the same problem – scoring two goals in quick succession during the first ten minutes of the game that have you flopping back onto the coach, heels of your palms pressed to your eyes as you groan in pain.

At the first intermission, your team is trailing 0-3 and Din hides (?) in the kitchen while you call Rory and Katie, and the three of you bemoan and rant about the last period over speakerphone. You pace the same route throughout the apartment so many times, Din wouldn’t be surprised if you actually wore a path.

He reemerges from the kitchen just as the second period is about to start and sees that you’re already perched on the edge of the couch, elbows on your knees, hands holding your own face as you stare at the television intently.

The puck drops just as Din places a plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, and you look at him with a calm expression and soft, sweet smile that he doesn’t think he’s seen for weeks, “Thank you, bab- WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?”

And like that, it’s gone – replaced by an expression of disbelief as you point agitatedly at the screen. Din turns to see your team captain skating towards the penalty box, and looks back to see you shaking with fury and muttering, “Hooking my ass... Barely tapped him…”

“That’s it,” says Din firmly.

“Hmm?” you’re not even looking at him, too busy throwing dagger eyes at the ref on screen who’s announcing the penalty details, getting ready to boo when he’s done.

“Stand up please, pretty bird,” commands Din, not really asking as he slips his paw like hands under your arms and hauls you up gently before you even process his request. Your eyes narrow as you register something happening, but your attention is still on the game.

It’s not until Din yanks down your leggings and kneels to start pulling your feet through the legs that you snap your head down, “Din!! What are you doing?”

Left in just your pink lace trimmed panties and your “I just hope both teams have fun” sweatshirt, you look at Din with a confused expression. He rises and towers over you purposefully, crowding you back against the couch so that you’re forced to sit down with a bounce when it hits the back of your legs.

“I don’t like seeing you so stressed, sweetheart. So, I’m going to help you relax, and you’re going to remember that this game is supposed to be fun.”

You screw up your face, unimpressed, “I know it’s supposed to be fun! I’m having tons of fun. Look at me, I’m- OH!!”

Din’s had enough. It wasn’t supposed to be a negotiation anyways. With one hand, he presses against your chest, forcing you to lean back into the couch, and with the other he spreads open your legs and lowers himself to press a firm kiss right on your clit.

“Din!!”

“Relax, baby,” he mouths against the fabric of your underwear, dipping his head and nuzzling your bud with his strong nose. He spread your legs wider and holds them open as he starts his slow torture.

The other team’s powerplay starts and you try to keep your eyes on the game. Normally you would be yelling at the screen for your team to clear it, but right now all you can think about is how Din’s slowly tracing over your folds with the tips of his nose and tongue.

As the powerplay clock starts to wind down, your favourite right winger intercepts a pass and tears down the ice on a breakaway. Chased by his own teammates and the opposing team, he sets up, shoots and scores!! Usually a short-handed goal would have you jumping up and down, cheering, but Din’s holding you down and at the exact same moment he gives your mound an open mouth kiss, tonguing your clit with a deliberate flick that has you grabbing onto his hair instead, “Yesssssssss!”

Din pays the goal no mind nor anything else that’s happening in the game, he just continues mapping and teasing your cunt through your underwear with his mouth, tongue and nose until the fabric is soaked through.

You go back to watching the game, half listening to the commentators and half following the players on the ice, all the while whimpering and softly moaning as Din works you up until you’re leaking down your ass, about to make a mess of the couch beneath. Slowly, slowly, as Din continues to massage and prod at your dripping hole, you start to melt, stress and tension lifting from your body, replaced with a warm, buzzing pleasure emanating from your core.

The period’s half over, and you haven’t yelled at the screen once.

“Feels so good, daddy,” you whine, when Din’s tongue presses your panties into your seam, forcing the fabric pulled tight and wet to stay tucked between your folds, finally revealing part of your pretty cunt to his gleaming eye.

“Fuck. Pussy’s so pretty, baby. So wet for me,” Din growls, and the vibration of his tenor works it way in, riding that same buzzing wave that’s coursing through your body, straight to your throat where it escapes as a tight wail.

“Oh Daddy!”

“Keep watching the game, pretty bird. And remember… relax,” Din’s last word muffled as he dives face first into your pussy, open mouth kissing your slit - licking every crest and wave he has access to with a low, burning sensuality that’s driving you insane.

“More, please – Din, I need more. Ngggh!”

About to pull the damp gusset of your panties to the side and really starting devouring you, Din pauses with a wicked idea. He pinches the fabric between his fingers and gives it a little tug so that the hem of your panties glides over your clit – the unexpected friction has you yelping in surprise, “Oh, fuck!”

Chuckling, Din tugs the fabric over your swollen bud a few more times and drinks in your heady moans before finally pulling it all the way aside to display your glistening cunt.

“Eyes on the game, baby.” You look down to see Din’s face buried between your legs, but his eyes are locked onto yours, dark and blown – you nod and flick you eyes back to the screen. Three more minutes left in the second period.

“Good girl,” Din rumbles against your slick coated seam; he licks a hot stripe from your tight hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, then back down, pushing and swirling his tongue through your arousal. He hums as he repeats this pattern over and over as you start to pant above him.

“Close baby?” You look away from the face-off on screen to nod at Din, he’s been eating you out for nearly the entire period of play, building you up from nothing and now you can feel yourself approaching the edge of euphoria, ready to teeter over.

“Daddy will take care of you, pretty girl. Just relax and watch the game, kay?”

When he sees your hazy eyes flick back up to the tv, he presses in deep, opening his mouth to consume as much of your pussy as he can, tongue dancing through your folds before it burrows into your clenching hole. His nose nudges your slippery clit as he tongue fucks you with vigor.

Above him, you’re faintly cheering on your team.

“Oh yes! Press them! Press them hard!”

“Nice pass! Fuck, such a good pass!”

“Shoot it, shoot it, shoot it – yessssss!”

You come just as the team’s star rookie scores a top shelf goal, crying out So good, so good, so good as your orgasm washes over you in never-ending waves. Apparently, you had a lot of pent up stress you needed to release.

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against the back of the couch and listen to the announcements celebrating the goal, coming down from your high as Din continues to press butterfly kisses to your pussy. Only when you hear the buzzer signalling the end of the period do you open your eyes and smile down at Din, “Thank you, daddy.”

Making a movement to get up so you can dispense a little love of your own to Din, you’re bewildered when Din holds you down with a forearm across your stomach and shakes his head, mouth still latched to your heat.

“Din.”

Shake, shake.

The movement of Din’s head restarts a warmth in your belly. Your laugh is featherlight, “Din, I have to get up! At least let me get up to buy the 50-50 tickets.”

Without releasing you, Din feels behind him blindly with his free hand until he finds your phone on the coffee table and places it in your waiting hands; he then reaches into his back pocket and takes out his wallet which he also hands over before mumbling against your slit, “Buy your tickets, baby.”

“Din, you don’t have to! I have my ow- ah!”

Having given your clit a playful snip, Din soothes it with a soft kiss, “It’s for charity, sweetheart.”

Dreamily, you sigh in agreement, “For charity.”

Din licks you lazily through the second intermission, cleaning up your spend and using his tongue to spread the fresh slick trickling from your cunt up to and around your swollen clit. He rests his head against your thigh and chuckles as he watches you take over ten minutes to purchase your charity raffle tickets; you used to only be able to buy 50-50 tickets if you were in attendance at the game, but the team’s charitable foundation had recently started selling them online during the game as well – and it’s taking all your concentration to navigate the site without being distracted by Din’s slow teasing.

You have to enter Din’s credit card number five times before you get it right and you think you accidentally buy twice the number of tickets you mean to.

By the time the third period starts, you’ve lost your underwear; eyes glossing over while you resume watching the game, you’re spread bare for Din as he adds his fingers to his efforts, all in the name of ‘relaxation’. When your team can’t capitalize on their first power play of the period, he inserts one curling finger, and you concede that the missed goal opportunity isn’t the end of the world. When your goalie has to make four heart-stopping saves in a row as the other team piles on, Din adds a second, and you passively sing encouraging praise at the TV while dissolving into the couch. When your coach deploys his special teams, your heart rate speeds up, but not because your offensive line is absolutely dominating in the attacking zone, but because Din squeezes in a third finger, stretching your fitted walls to their limit.

“So fucking tight for me,” Din hisses, looking absolutely hypnotized as he watches his thick fingers disappear into your cunt. The vulgar wet slaps and squelches your pussy is making nearly drowning out the commentary from the game; you moan and writhe against Din’s hand, begging him for more, “Daddy, so fucking good! Love your fingers, please… need your mouth, dadddyyyyyyy….”

The onslaught on the ice and against your pussy continue without reprieve; Din nibbles your puffy clit between his teeth before pulling it in between his lips and sucking. He builds and builds as the team presses and presses, no relief for your poor aching pussy or the opposing team’s goalie. You think you might float away if Din wasn’t still holding you down, your body tingling right through to the finger tips that you have buried in Din’s hair – you pull him closer, grinding against his mouth seeking, more, more, more.

“Soak me, pretty girl,” you feel rather than hear, Din’s command echoing deep to that spot inside you only he can reach and the vibration sets you off. You come, a fresh wave of arousal hits Din’s chin as you chant out his name until you’re hoarse. Trailing off with a whimper, somewhere through your thick fog of pleasure, you hear the buzzer of the second goal your favourite right winger scores tonight.

The game’s all tied up and you’re spent.

Glassy eyed and fully blissed out, you beckon Din to come kiss you with a weak smile and curl of the fingers on the hand you’ve released from his hair.

Din’s taking out his cock from his sweatpants and lubing it up with your cum, but he doesn’t rise, “Give me one more, pretty bird. Let’s make it a hat trick.”

You whine in protest, “Can’t, Din. It’s too much.”

He fists his hard length and presses the barest of chaste kisses to your still pulsing clit, “Be a good girl for me. One more, baby.”

There’s nothing, not even winning this game, that you want more than to please him so you give him a brave little nod – even though his feathery touch made you jump.

His thumb brushes gently over your slippery bundle - light pets at first, mindful that you’re nearing overstimulation. In contrast, his other hand pumps his cock with increasing pressure and speed – already throbbing and painfully hard just from eating you out for the last 40 minutes. Seeing how turned-on Din is just from pleasuring you has another wave of want coursing through your veins; pushing up your sweatshirt above your braless breasts, you start to play with your tits - pinching and rolling your nipples between your fingers as you throw you head back and moan, low and throaty.

The raunchy sight sends Din into overdrive. He starts to draw gentle but consistent figure eights over your clit then bends down again to inhale the smell of your honey before pressing a series of sweet tender kisses to your still leaking hole. All the while, choking his dick and keeping his eyes on you as you touch your perfect tits. He stays the course with his mouth and thumb, letting you decide how much you can take when you start to buck your hips lightly.

Your third orgasm approaches faster than you anticipate, body already halfway there after that last brain numbing high. Din reads the tensing of your stomach and your quickening breaths, “Give it to me, baby girl. Give it to me and I’ll come all over this pretty pussy.” With Din’s dirty promise ringing in your ear, you come with a shuddering arch of your back and a soundless scream. Just as you’re completing your hat trick, in an arena across town your right winger is completing his.

But your eyes aren’t for him, they’re for the man who’s now milking his impressive cock, splattering rope after rope of white, glossy cum over the lips of your overwrought cunt. You giggle as Din runs the tip of his cock through your folds, pushing in as much of his spend as he can before he heaves a heavy, satiated sigh.

Looking at you with a smirk, he chuckles, “How you feeling, pretty bird? Relaxed?”

You laugh a genuine, musical laugh before pulling his face to yours, kissing yourself on his lips – so euphoric and peaceful from Din’s magical touch. After a quick cleanup, you rest cozily in Din’s arms, kissing sweetly as the two of you watch your team successfully defend their lead for the final minutes of the game. Final winning score for your team, 4-3.

Resting your sleepy head on Din’s shoulder, you confess, “I didn’t realize I was being such a stress ball about the playoffs, Din. I’m sorry.”

Kissing your temple, Din gives you a reassuring squeeze, “No need to apologize, pretty bird. It’s okay if you get stressed. Just know I’m always here to help, okay? I love you.”

You lift your head to nod and mouth the same words back to him, nearly getting lost in the dreamy eyes of the man you can’t quite believe loves you the way he does. In a little voice you cheer, “We won, yay!”

“Yay!” chuckles Din.

Suddenly, a look of epiphany washes over your face as you pan to the screen where the winning score is displayed in bold font beneath the post game show hosts. You turn to look at Din, then slowly again to the TV and back. Sitting up straight, all business-like, you grin, “Seriously, Din - I’m going to need you to do this again. Every game until we win the cup.”

“Done.”

#din djarin #modern!din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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escapism-from-the-real-world · 12 days

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Random rant about rvb because I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately

Tucker’s hypersexuality has always been an interesting factor of his personality to me. While some people do just have a high libido or sex drive, a lot of hypersexuality is often used as a coping mechanism or a result of trauma/societal pressure.

Tucker is an interesting case because I do think he’s genuinely interested in having sex with people and having that kind of intimate closeness with someone/just having a good time, but I think his approach to getting that affection/attention is the result of some kind of trauma.

Like, maybe a parent was misogynistic and taught Tucker to treat women like objects. Maybe he was repressed sexually for a long time and now as an adult can freely express himself. Maybe a past partner didn’t respect his boundaries and then gaslit him into thinking that’s normal in a relationship. Maybe he grew up in a home where the only attention he could get was always negative which means that when he flirts with people, he’s less trying to get with them and more trying to get a reaction out of them so they’ll pause attention to him. Negative attention is still attention.

Maybe it’s a combination, who knows for sure.

And I’m not saying this as a way of justifying his behavior or anything btw. I just think that Tucker is such a genuinely caring and good person who wants to get better and wants to improve and can see the way his actions damages both himself and the people around him but doesn’t know how to fix it so he ends up sexually harassing people because he doesn’t know what else to do. I can see him falling back on his flirting habits in new and stressful situations or when with people he doesn’t know how to react around because it’s been his default for so long.

Idk, it just seems so obvious that his sexuality is a coping mechanism to his trauma and insecurities at times (especially during the Chorus arc when his self-esteem hits a record low) and I want people to explore it more. There’s some real angst potential in here.

#which sucks for tucker but great for writers #rvb #lavernius tucker #hypersexuality #character analysis #response to trauma #trauma #i just think he’s neat #and i want him to suffer for it

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smokingtomas · 8 months

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Can you write headcannons on how the Lin Kuei trio would be as fathers? (if they have a son and/or daughter) I like to think they are super protective of they have a daughter lol

Oh dear anon, it's like you're reading my mind.

I've been thinking about this for a while now, but I'm gonna tweak it a bit-- I'm a kindergarten teacher, and I see the kids' parents every now and then. So I guess this is more of my perspective as a teacher on how I see the parents.

What you're about to read is...

HC: The Lin Kuei boys as students' parents I deal with (AU)

A heads up, these purely comes from experiences, but adjusted a bit to match the boys' personalities.

-----🌼-----

Tomas Vrbada

Just the sweetest kind out there.

Tomas drives his daughter to school every day with one of those big motorbikes. Of course, he would put his daughter with complete protective gear. Might look intimidating, but once he switches the engine off and takes off his helmet, he would be all smiles and showed how doting he could be.

He would want his daughter to be independent, so when she asked if she could remove her gears by herself, Tomas would gladly let her. But when she seems to be struggling, Tomas asks her if she needs a helping hand.

Tomas greets the teacher warmly by asking them how they're doing while his daughter adjusts her backpack. He tells the teacher that his daughter has been mentioning their names and calling them her favorite teacher.

He even would extend the warmth to his daughter's best friend-- whose mother has been hospitalized. Tomas would ask her if she'd returned home and wish her well.

Tomas' love language for his daughter is physical touch, so he's not letting his daughter go without her giving him a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"Listen to the teachers and have fun, alright?" He tells her gently.

Bi-Han

Just insufferable... well, kinda.

Unlike Tomas, Bi-Han rarely drops his son to school because of his busy schedule, but he is known as the parent who is goal-oriented.

It's obvious that Bi-Han has ambitions that he'd want his son to achieve, which could be handful to teachers because he would relentlessly demand things, borderline disrespecting the boundaries such as requesting a meeting during the holidays.

The boundaries disrespecting extends during PTCs. He would speak up until the time limit, and when the teachers prepare to wrap things up, he'd say, "I'm not finished yet."

Although speaks in a very assertive, demanding tone, Bi-Han is aware of which area his son needs improvement at. He would want the teacher to challenge him to reach greater results. Therefore, he would be very honest about his son's home life.

Bi-Han might be disrespecting boundaries, but he would respect the teacher's role as his partner to help his son grow. He would listen to what the teachers have to say about his son because he sees them as a professional.

But he would clearly display a displeased look when he's dissatisfied with the teacher's answers.

Kuai Liang

Just very lowkey, but a gentle guy.

Kuai Liang is sometimes seen dropping his daughter off, but he doesn't really converse with anybody. He opens the car's door for the daughter, helps her with the bag, and smiles necessarily to the teacher greeting them.

He would be present in every performance, though. Kuai Liang cherishes the moments where his daughter takes risks and gets on the stage. He would record her on the corner, away from the other parents.

Kuai Liang would be so cute with his daughter as to gift her with a bouquet of flower after the performance and would tell her that she's done such an amazing job.

He's also the hands-on type when it comes to helping his daughter with school projects. Kuai Liang would patiently guide her through every task, but he would know where to stop to let her mind wire itself.

During PTCs, Kuai Liang wouldn't talk as much, but he would be there putting his arm around her daughter as a form of assurance. He could surprise the teachers with a laugh when they tell him something funny about his daughter.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #scorpion #kuai liang #sub zero #bi han #smoke #tomas vrbada #headcanon #excuse the possible grammar errors #i'm sleepy as heck #this is just very self insert i guess?#i hope yall enjoyed it nonetheless

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mirrorball-writings · 3 months

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Watch Me.

Isabelle Clarichet is a racing prodigy. She is beyond talented and has won countless races and championships, but she still faces doubt and criticism simply because she is a woman. Thankfully, one team believes in her, and gives her the opportunity she deserves to move up the ranks and ultimately earn a seat in Formula 1.

WC: 2.3k

Reading time: 8:33

Warnings: sexism

I’ve heard the cheers after every race, and they never sound like they do when I’m the one standing on the podium. When I hold the trophy over my head and spray the champagne, I don’t hear roaring applause. It’s quieter; there’s more whispering, and I can always hear the one guy in the back making some inappropriate comment, asking me to take off the race suit and show off my fireproofs, show off my body. Or something like that. It doesn’t matter how close the race was, or how far ahead I was from the next car, it’s always the same. I’m used to it now — it’s been this way even since I was karting. I’m used to the hush over the crowd when they realize that a girl won the race, and I’m used to the awkward conversations when people say, “Really, Isabelle? Why would you want to be a racing driver? You could do something more… conventional.” They’ve never figured out the right word to use. I’m used to all the judgment and doubts, but most of all, I’m used to the rejections.

I’ve always been a talented driver. My parents hammered that in early: If I’m going to do something, I had better do it right. If I’m going to try something, I had better be successful. Since my early karting days, I’ve been a fair rival to even the prodigies on the track, and my competitors learned early on to respect me as one of their own. Unfortunately, not everyone got that memo. I was barely a teenager when I realized that. While all my friends were getting their first sponsorships and team offers, I was still sitting with my blank kart, not a brand to be seen. At first, I thought it was luck of the draw, but I knew my place, and I knew that I was better than many of my competitors, who were flooded with offers to join training programs. The obvious difference between us was the unavoidable fact that I was a girl. I was only thirteen when I came to terms with the fact that my journey in racing will not get easier. I will always have to fight to be taken seriously, and I will have to drive twice as fast to get the same respect in this sport. It isn’t fair, but that’s how it is. Talent alone was not enough for me.

F4 starts at fifteen, so teams usually like to give offers for their training programs when drivers are still fourteen. For me, thirteen and fourteen passed by with no contacts, and fifteen didn’t seem to be going any better. When I asked the man who ran my local karting league, he recommended going to the teams myself, and asking to be considered for a seat. He told me, “Isabelle, you’re talented. You deserve a seat, at least as much as these other drivers do. You have to understand that teams are nervous to give you a seat, because they’ve never had a girl drive for them. I know that you can handle it, but you have to show them that you have what it takes. They won’t realize it on their own.” It’s unfair. It’s beyond unfair. I knew that at fifteen, and a fifteen-year-old girl should never be facing the realization that she will always be at a disadvantage, just because she’s a girl. But, ultimately, I knew he was right. I had already seen it firsthand: No teams were going to come to me, so if I wanted an offer, I would have to go to them myself.

I wanted to drive for ART. They were in France, so they wouldn’t be too far away, and they were an incredible racing team where I would really have the opportunity to improve and work towards a Formula 1 seat. I flew out to France, and I made my case. I showed them my records, and all the awards and championships I had won with my racing. They seemed impressed, but when the time came for them to decide whether I’d get an offer, all they said was, “We don’t think you’re the right fit for our team.” I was shocked, and I was embarrassed, but I was not hopeless. I went to DAMS, and I gave them the same presentation. I received the same answer.

“You’re just not the right fit for our team.”

“We’re not sure you’re ready for this next step in your career.”

“Maybe take a few more years in karting, and then we can reconsider.”

“We just want to make sure our drivers are ready for the pressure of F4.”

I went home. I trained, and I raced, and I won, again and again and again. I proved myself, again and again and again. I put myself out there, and I made records, and I kept winning. And yet, all remained silent — no offers, no contact. No team would sign a girl to a seat.

I was sixteen when I finally got an offer. It was from PREMA. They wanted me to come to their headquarters for training, to hopefully put me into an F3 seat for next season. I couldn’t pass it up, and a few weeks later, I had packed my things and moved to Italy, to what would end up being my home for almost three years.

I thought being signed to a team would be the end of it, but the whispers remained. PREMA itself was supportive, and I wasn’t even the only girl in their program. Being around other female drivers, and being in a program that believed that we could perform just as well as boys, was a welcome change, and plenty of the other F3 teams and drivers had the same respect for me as PREMA did. Still, we saw it in the news, and we heard the comments at the races. Any mistake I made, and we were bound to hear questions of whether a girl was really cut out for an intense sport like racing. No matter how much I assured them I had what it takes, they always wanted to ask my teammate what he thought about it. He must know better.

I started F3 at sixteen, and F2 at seventeen. I raced harder than ever, and the original skeptics shut up after long. I raced just as well as my teammate, and I had more podiums than many of my competitors. I didn’t win the championship, but I was close behind. I won sixth in F3, a far better placement than most rookies, and I couldn’t ask for much better, since I knew I wouldn’t beat the records of Piastri, Sargeant, Vesti, and the like. My first year in F2, I ended up in sixth. My second year, I won second place. I still heard the criticism and the doubts, and I couldn’t escape the negative comments on social media, but things were much quieter. I was proud of my results, and I was proud of how well I had proved that I had what it takes, but I expected nothing of it, at least for a few years to come. Much to my surprise, though, less than a month after the end of the F2 season, I got an offer for a Formula 1 seat. All of my hard work had paid off, and it was time to prove once and for all that I deserved to be a driver just as much as anybody else.

Pre-season training flew by in an F1 car, literally and metaphorically. Being surrounded by the drivers I had watched growing up, and being a rookie alongside some of my best friends from the past few years, made the experience just that much more of a dream, although it certainly all felt unreal to finally be here, living out the daydream I had had since the day I started karting so many years ago. After all the rejections, all the doubts, I had certainly had many days where I thought this would never come to me, and yet I was here, driving a real F1 car, preparing to take my place on a real F1 team for the upcoming season. My arm was bruised from being pinched.

I had made it. I thought to myself, “This is the end of the naysayers. This is the end of the skepticism and the judgment. This is the beginning of a career of respect, where I will finally be seen as equal to the other drivers.” That was my assumption, and I was sure it would be the truth, but my contract had still not been announced. There was speculation, to be sure, about who would take the seat this year, and about whether I or any other F2 drivers would end up as reserve drivers or in actual seats this year in F1, but no formal announcements had been made, so I was only working on assumption when I assured myself that this season would be different. I could never have imagined how wrong I could have been.

I woke up on January 18 like I did any other day. Alarm goes off, I roll out of bed, I brush my teeth, I eat breakfast. It was almost an hour before I opened my phone — almost an hour that I was awake and unaware of what was going on. When I did check my phone, though, I saw hundreds, maybe thousands, of notifications waiting for me on every social media platform I owned. Tags, reposts, follows, comments; something must have happened for this many people to be taking this much notice of me. Upon opening Instagram, I was met with a bright graphic from one of the many F1 news accounts I follow. I couldn’t miss the bold text: “F2 runner-up Isabelle Clarichet to join F1 this season?!”

How could they have found out? We hadn’t made the announcement, and I knew we weren’t going to for a few more weeks, as we were still getting everything sorted. When I looked in the caption, I found my answer: They didn’t know if this was true, but they had heard rumours from an “anonymous source within the F1 community” that I had been doing training with one of the teams. I decided not to address any of the innumerable questions about whether this was true, because I wasn’t supposed to let anyone outside of my immediate family and closest friends know that I had signed a contract until the team made their own official announcement. My own silence, though, didn’t stop the comments and messages from flooding in. I received countless DMs and mentions in posts and comments telling me the same things I had heard so many times before in my career.

“Women don’t belong in motorsport.”

“Go back to ballet class.”

“She won’t be able to handle the pressure of real racing.”

“What happened to hiring athletes?”

It isn’t fair. Again and again I’ve proved my worth and shown the world that I could handle pressure and competition, that I could win, and still people doubt whether I deserve to be here. Thankfully, having done well in F2 and F3, I had gained a following over the years of people excited to see a woman excelling in a male-dominated sport like racing, and they were happy to support me every time one of these ignorant comments appeared. And, thankfully, the opinions of some random guy on the internet doesn’t really matter, because I’d already signed a contract with a team, and whatever people thought about it wouldn’t change the fact that I would be racing. I tried to encourage myself with that idea, that their opinions couldn’t change reality. But it still hurt. It hurt so much to know that I would probably never be enough for them, just because I was a girl.

Three weeks is a long time to wait when your inbox is constantly flooded with questions and speculations about where you’re racing next year. Three weeks is a long time to continuously see hateful messages and be unable to defend yourself against them. But three weeks was how long I would have to wait before an official statement could be put out revealing my contract with the team. Those three weeks were filled with training, track practice, and silent tears of frustration. They went by quickly.

I could almost hear the uproar when the news went out. I could almost feel the tension in the air as people would be reading about where I had signed, as people would be making up their minds about whether or not they would support me this year. I knew the moment I opened my phone, I would see thousands of congratulations clashed against thousands of hateful worlds, but I was prepared, and I knew that this was what was in store for me for the rest of my career. I wasn’t worried. I had my team on my side, and I had the support and respect of all the other drivers on the grid. I had proved myself before, and I was prepared to do it again, and again, and again, every day for the rest of my life. And, indeed, when I opened up my phone, I saw the announcement there. I saw the comments. I saw the excitement and the disappointment and the anger all mingled together, right there in front of me, for myself and the world to see. But overshadowing it all was the fact that this was real, and this contract had been signed and the seat had been taken and the person who had done so was me. And that announcement said a name, and it was my name. My name.

“Nineteen-year-old Isabelle Clarichet to join Mercedes F1 team 2023.”

This is the first part of my F1 "series" Baby Driver (yes, I know Baby Driver is also a movie title, but I just love the sound of it so that's the series name). I put "series" in quotes because it won't be a series in the traditional sense, meaning it won't follow one constant plotline, but it will instead be a number of different scenarios and stories of the same character and in the same universe, if that makes sense. So all of the stories will be about Isabelle and her experiences in F1 and interactions with other drivers. I should point out as a disclaimer that obviously I had to switch around some drivers so that Isabelle could race at Mercedes, so I apologize if I mention someone racing at a different team than they actually do. Feel free to request any story, F1 or not, and you can also request stories for Baby Driver as well if you have any ideas!

#fanfiction #imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #formula racing

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