#historical beauty tips

[nickysfacts]

Don’t you love it when racist plans backfire!

💜👳🏾‍♀️💜

[accomtour]

Discover the Magic: Best Place to Travel in Mexico in February

Best Place to Travel in Mexico in February – February is an ideal time to explore the rich cultural tapestry and diverse landscapes that Mexico has to offer. Whether you’re a beach enthusiast, a history buff, or a nature lover, Mexico has something for everyone during this month. In this article, we’ll unveil the best place to travel in Mexico in February, ensuring an unforgettable…

[wanderguidehub]

Discover the Unforgettable Adventures and Breathtaking Trails in the White Mountains, New Hampshire: Your Ultimate Hiking Guide

Welcome to the ultimate hiking guide to the captivating terrains of the White Mountains, New Hampshire. Embark on an exhilarating journey as we illuminate paths less traveled in this remarkable wilderness. From sweeping views atop granite peaks to tranquil forest trails, our guide is your companion to explore, challenge, and uncover the pristine beauty hidden within these majestic mountains.…

[jmccannwriter]

Free Book Chat and SEEDs for Autism Fundraiser

I’ll be discussing the relevance of neurodiverse characters in historical fiction at SEEDs for Autism in Phoenix on Saturday, August 12, 2023, at 11:00 a.m. The Historical Novel Society – Arizona Chapter (HNS-AZ) is partnering with SEEDs to host the free public event for anyone who appreciates historical fiction. Both readers and writers will find something of interest in the presentation,…

[writingwithcolor]

A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair

@writingraccoon said:

My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. I plan to make his character very finnicky about his hair, both enjoying styling it, but also often being unsure how to style it (not in that he doesn't know how to, but has so many options for how to style it, he has trouble choosing). However, I know that there are some very harmful ways to write black hair, especially in regards to how the black character themselves feels about it. Kazuki does not hate his hair, in fact he takes joy in it, and I'm researching black hair and hair styles to be as accurate as possible. But I'm unsure if portraying a black character as occasionally overwhelmed by or vain about his hair is negative. How would you suggest either changing this or making it work? Does it need to be changed in the first place?

Black Character Overwhelmed by Curly Afro Hair

Your Black character wanting his hair to look its best and at times feeling overwhelmed seems reasonable and natural to me. It appears their challenge comes with how to style it. Not so much with struggling how it looks or how hard it is to manage. That is good, as this further helps avoid placing a strong negative focus on Black hair. 

Him caring a lot about how it is style should not be deemed vain or frivolous, either. In any case, hair care is self care. There’s nothing wrong with having pride with your hair, especially hair that mainstream society, historically and present, might say is not beautiful. This still matters, even in a fantasy world, since your readers still exist in this reality. It’s empowering and a welcome change to see someone who loves their afro hair, actually.

There are unique factors someone with coily afro hair would experience vs. straight, wavy, or looser curls, but people struggling with their hair (too frizzy, too flat, too limp, too thin, too thick!) is universal. 

There is a delicate balance to achieve.

Avoid Writing a Black Hair Journey Experience 

An overall negative Afro hair journey might be the reality for many, especially when society deems Afro hair as unacceptable and slaps so many uninvited opinions, laws and policies over its existence and on certain styles (again, historically and very much at present), but that’s the kind of story that is best handled by someone with the background. Someone willing to commit to the research might also be able to pull it off, although it’s truly not the kind of thing an escapism novel needs in my opinion. If the story is not meant to delve into “A Black /Black Hair Experience” then I'd avoid going that route. That is moving a bit towards a struggle narrative, depending on how much it defines your character’s story.

Add positive and neutral hair language and interactions

For your writing, I’d avoid using unchallenged negative language about his hair. Being overwhelmed at times and frustrated is one thing and expected. If his hair is constantly brought up, and is associated with uncontrollable, ugly, or too [insert struggle here], then rethink the direction you’re going. 

Add some positive or neutral terms, reactions, and interactions in the narrative towards afro hair, such as describing color and texture.

“His fine coils bounced in the wind.” 

“Hair black and shiny” 

“She wore her hair in two large, fluffy buns.”

“He admired his fresh, neat braids in the mirror, smiling at his reflection, before turning to leave.”

Another tip: It may have been for research purposes, but leave out any hair number categorizing in the story and rely on description. I’d say this goes for any story, as reading the number would feel off. 

“He had coily 4a hair.” Nahh! :P 

Also, I would suggest sending all passages that focus on his hair to a Black sensitivity reader for review.

More reading:

~Mod Colette

[theharddeck]

i was supposed to sweat you out (rooster x f!reader)

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: reader is totally not jealous that her FWB is being hit on at the hard deck.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: spitting, unprotected sex, non negotiated breeding kink—friendly reminder this is a work of FICTION oh my god use protection and communicate explicitly with your partner beforehand please please please-- explicit PiV sex, a bit of dumbification, m!receiving oral sex

A/N: help i blacked out and wrote almost 4k of rooster smut who even am i listen, i also know it's not original, but i wanted to write frantic territorial sex and this is where it got us. also...don't think too hard about the parallels between this and can't unfeel that okay i'm too repressed to process tysm also yes title is from glitch by TAS

You weren’t jealous. 

Jealous was for people with feelings, and if you had feelings about fucking your team lead, then you were stupid, in addition to giving Uncle Sam everything he needed to court martial you. 

So, no, you weren’t jealous. 

But the tightness in your stomach as a girl sat next to Rooster on the piano was awfully uncomfortable. 

She wasn’t even out of line, that was the worst part. She looked nice, she looked like a decent human, and she was pretty, if you were into the girl next door kinda look. 

Which Rooster historically was. 

She was sitting at a perfectly respectful distance, her sundress was a perfectly respectful length, her face was open and curious and pure and it made you want to stomp over to the piano in the middle of the Hard Deck, and rub yourself all over Bradley’s hawaiian shirt until he remembered that as pretty as she was, he liked himself around you better.

You made yourself look away, tipping your wrist so the soda water and ice remaining in your glass rattled around.

He wasn’t yours. 

You knew he wasn’t, just like you knew jealousy was irrational, but it was hard because sometimes…sometimes he acted like it though. 

Like when you nearly passed out from cramps and he’d brought over a spare set of sheets while he washed yours, and then wedged himself around you in your tiny bed, so you could know you weren’t alone in the pain. Or when he left a lemon lavender cupcake in your locker, even though no one was supposed to know it was your birthday, because you hated the way people made a big fuss out of nothing. Or the way he looked up at you, awestruck and beautiful, every time you came on his fingers, sobbing his name. 

You set your glass down on the bar, louder than you intended, but suddenly everything seemed loud. You didn’t have to stay here, in fact, you needed to get out. Out of the Hard Deck, away from the bright lights and happy people being happy, and no one moping over their fuckbuddies who definitely didn’t have feelings for them–

When the back door opened, you breathed in deep, cool air rushing off the sea and over you and bringing a momentary reprieve. The door swung shut behind, and as it closed, the din of the bar muted, and you let that breath out slowly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You just needed a minute, a moment to calm the hell down, and forget about the distracting man at the piano whom you had no business being distracted by.

You heard the door creak open behind you and you tipped your head back to glare at the universe at large, because without turning around, you knew exactly who had come outside after you. 

“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was just gentle enough to make your heart clench, because it wasn’t his fault that he was so impossibly kind, it had you falling in love with him, “you okay? You ran out of there pretty quick.”

“I’m fine,” you said, sounding just as prickly as you felt, pushing down any sense of flattery that he’d been aware of your presence, and your leaving. 

“You sound fine,” Bradley said cheerily, coming to stand beside you. You wanted to laugh with him because you both knew you were being dramatic, but you also wanted to shove him like you were 5 on a playground, too full of big feelings to know how to handle them. 

“I said I’m fine, Bradley,” you bit out. “Go back inside, okay, I’m fine.”

He was quiet for a moment, and when you looked over at him, you knew it was a mistake. He was watching you carefully, his brown eyes focused and concerned, a divet in the middle of his forehead where his brows were squished together, making him simultaneously the cutest and hottest, and also the most annoying, for being so handsome while he was clearly worried. 

“Honey, we gotta talk about it–” he started, but the endearment broke something inside of you, the way he said it like he meant it, like this was real. 

“I’m not your honey, Bradley,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “We’re friends, right, that was the whole deal, so let’s not pretend like–”

Something flashed in Bradley’s eyes and a moment later his large hands cupped your face as he crashed into you, kissing your gasped breath out of you. 

It wasn’t your fault your knees nearly buckled. 

It wasn’t your fault that the hands you meant to push him away with instead curled into the material of that stupid technicolor shirt, pulling him closer to you. 

It wasn’t your fault that he tasted like heaven, like rum and coke and intoxicating, and months of habit had you chasing his taste with your tongue. 

You didn’t realize you were walking backwards until your back hit the outside wall of the Hard Deck, and still Bradley covered you. His neck was bent at a horrible angle to meet your lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, melding his body into yours, pressing into you with a familiar urgency. 

His tongue traced over your lips and you opened for him, a whimper escaping you when Bradley hummed with appreciation. His hands slipped from your face to behind your head, his knuckles protecting your head from the scrape of the brick wall, and he rocked into you before pulling back. 

You felt his breath against your lips and you opened your eyes slowly, needing a moment before you could focus on him. 

Christ, he was just so pretty. 

Hair unruly from your fingers, cheeks flushed from kissing you, chest rising unsteadily and his tongue darting out to wet his lips, like a tease. 

“Now,” he said, his voice gruffer than it’d been a minute ago, “are you done riding my dick for something I don’t even know I did wrong?”

It was an expression.

You knew that, of course it was an expression, but Bradley was pressing you into a wall with his demigod body, and he’d said it in that voice, the one you knew how it felt against your skin, so all you could manage was, “Can I?”

For a moment, Bradley looked confused, bless him. 

Then he huffed out a disbelieving breath, like you were too good to be true, lifting a hand from behind your head to rake it through his hair, before looking back at you. 

“You mean that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice somehow even lower. “Out here in the open, you’d let me fuck you?”

You shivered at his words, nodding stupidly, and were rewarded by another kiss. This one was just as unexpected as the first, but Bradley’s lips gentle against yours as he coaxed an answering softness out of you. 

It was too sweet.

Too tempting, too delicious, to let yourself have tenderness that you knew wasn’t real, and you needed to get a hold of yourself, fast. 

Bradley was still being so damn gentle, so it was easy to push his hands away from you, sink to your knees on the sand-covered asphalt outside of the bar. Bradley fell forward, catching himself on the arm braced on the wall, his forehead resting in the crook of his elbow. 

“Honey, you don’t have to–” he started, but his hips bucked forward when your fingers started undoing his belt. 

“I want to,” you told him, meaning it too much to care how breathless your voice sounded. 

Your hand slipped into his pants, palming his length over his briefs and you both groaned softly. He wasn’t fully hard, not yet, but that was better anyways, let you work him up. He was warm, heavy even at half mast, and it took everything in you not to purr when you pulled him out. You looked up at him, tilting your head. 

“Help me out?” you asked coyly, sticking your tongue out, and Bradley’s hips jutted forward again when he realized what you were asking. 

“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice a heady mix of arousal and wonder. The hand that wasn’t keeping him from hitting the wall traced down your cheek, ending at your jaw and tipping your chin up. 

You were already salivating and when Bradley spit, you moaned, your thighs clenched together as you drooled your combined saliva onto his cock. Bradley grunted, then whispered something to himself as you smoothed your hand over him, the glide made easier by your spit. Already, you could feel him stiffening, and you readjusted to take him in your mouth. 

It was never a gentle fit. 

Bradley was the kind of thick that he always stretched out your jaw, but, God, did you relish it. As your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, Bradley moaned, the most beautiful sound. You loved how vocal he was, loved how he sounded, how he felt. You tightened your lips, tongue swirling over the tip of him, teasing until you tasted a hint of salt in your mouth, and then it was your turn to moan.  

You tipped your head back, encouraging him to slide him deeper into your mouth, your fist twisting around the portion of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth. 

“Shit, honey, that mouth…” Bradley gritted, his voice muffled in his arm. The hand that had tipped up your chin went around to your cheek, and his hips shifted again when he could feel you hollowing your cheeks out. 

The motion pushed him deeper towards your throat and you gagged, but kept him in your mouth, soothed by the shaky cadence of Bradley’s breath over you. 

“So damn good for me, aren’t you, honey?” he breathed. “So warm and tight; feels so good…”

Your thighs clenched again, and you felt yourself growing wet as his praise washed over you. You held your breath, determined to take more of him, and Bradley grunted as you pulled on his cock with your hand, feeding him into your mouth. 

“Need more, honey?” he asked, somehow still cocky, though you could hear the tremor of desire in his voice. “God, you love being stretched on my dick, don’t you?”

You moaned instead of nodding, wishing it wasn’t true but also wishing he’d push deeper. Your hands flexed on his thighs, still covered in his jeans, but so thick and warm, even through the denim. Fuck, the size of him was overwhelming–his heavy cock in your mouth, those muscled thighs under your fingers…you held your breath and you let go of the base of him. 

Bradley let out a choked gasp as you took him deeper, your nose brushing his pubic hair as he slid down your throat. You were gonna lose your voice and be so damn sore, but it was worth it for the groan that ripped out of Bradley. 

“Fuck fuck fuck–” he gritted, all cockiness gone as he let go of your cheek, bracing himself against the wall. You knew it was taking everything to not rut into you, and you half appreciated it because you weren’t sure you could take it, but you almost wanted him without restraint, just using you, lost in you. 

You hummed around him, and Bradley made a sound you’d never heard before, like a whine and gasp, and then he was pushing himself off the wall, pulling out of you, and wrapping his hands under your arms, pulling you to your feet. 

“Fuck, honey, you wreck me,” he rasped, kissing you almost angrily. You whimpered as you opened for him, and you felt his tongue sweeping through you, searching for his taste in your mouth. 

You felt so empty, too much air and too little of his cock, and you reached for him between you. You felt him jolt when your hand closed around him, stroking over him, and then Bradley was reaching between both of you, shoving his hand into your underwear. 

“How wet am I going to find you, honey? Bet you’re just drenched aren’t you, just that hungry for my cock–fuck.”

Bradley broke off when his fingers swept into your panties, and you gasped at the glorious contact. 

His fingers were so good, thick and long and calloused just right, and he was absolutely correct: you were all but dripping for him. Bradley pulled his fingers through your folds, pulling your arousal up to your clit and petting gentle circles around it. Your head fell back against the wall at his ministrations, perfect to the point of painful, almost forgetting you held his cock in your hand. 

You tightened your grip around him, and Bradley grunted before he matched your pace with his fingers. You felt your knees shaking, and Bradley wound another hand around your ass, before lifting to brace you against the wall. With your feet off the ground, your balance was entirely dependent upon him, and it brought new pressure to the pattern his fingers were tracing over you. 

His touch was maddening. 

Light and knowing, direct and perfect, enough to drive you wild with pleasure but not to get you there, and he knew it. 

“Bradley,” you whispered against his mouth, begged, and the bastard chuckled, but he pulled his hand out of your panties, just long enough to push them to the side, before pulling his lips away from you. 

“Shit, honey, I don’t have a–”

“In me, Rooster,” you snapped, surprised and yet absolutely not surprised by the fact that your eyes felt full. You were desperate for him, it was embarrassing, but you needed him so damn bad, for reasons you didn’t dare say, and if he waited for something else, you didn’t think you could bear it. “Please, fucking please, I need you–” 

“Shh honey, you’re okay,” Bradley soothed, one of his hands brushing your hair away from your face, a gentle thumb wiping at your eyes. His gentleness made you more desperate, your hips canting towards him. “Are you sure?”

“So sure, please,” you whimpered, your face feeling hot, your thighs shaking. God you were coming undone, like you were just a giant nerve ending that was just need, desperate, hunger, desire. 

“Course, honey,” Bradley soothed, his lips brushing against your cheeks, kissing your tears away, his tongue caressing your skin. “I’ve got you, baby, you’re okay.” 

You didn’t think you were, but then his thick cock was at your entrance and you could’ve sobbed in relief. He was hot, you could feel him leaking and you needed him to be so deep inside you. You tried to work your hips down on him, but Bradley’s grip on you was stern, and you couldn’t coax him any faster.

As it was, it still felt like too much. 

The stretch of him, the closeness, the way he knew just how to soothe you and fuck you and none of it was real and even when he slowly worked you down onto his cock, you were still shaking. 

“Please, please,” you whined, trying to move, and crying out in frustration when Bradley didn’t succumb. “Shit, Bradley, please, fuck me like you mean it.”

He growled, fucking growled, the sexiest sound out of a litany of choices, and Bradley’s hips jerked back before he drove into you. Your head hit the brick wall, he was so perfect and he hit you just right, so good, and almost perfect enough to drown out the thoughts in your head. 

“Like I mean it, huh,” Bradley grunted, pulling out, the drag feeling like suction with how wet you were, how tightly you were clenching around him. “Like I mean it when I say you’re killing me, is that what you mean? Like I’m going insane every second this pretty pussy isn’t tight around me, like I can’t think straight if I don’t have the taste of you on my tongue, or know the taste of me isn’t on yours?”

He punctuated each question with a thrust, fucking the answers out of your head, and all you could think was yes and more and please. 

“Oh you like that, don’t you, baby?” Bradley said, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he lifted you higher up the wall. Your back scraped against the bricks but you didn’t care, you couldn’t focus on anything other than the perfect drag of his cock inside you, so close to you. “I think you like that, I think you like knowing how much you own me, how in my head you are, how even when it’s me filling you. You’re fucking everywhere, all around me, all the time.”

His thrusts pushed you higher, bits of sand and brick grating at your skin and it grounded you, centered you so you didn’t come undone at the words coming out of him. 

You were still thinking too much. 

He was so deep, so good, but you still…you reached for him blindly, one of your hands finding one of his, bringing it to your throat. 

“Fuck, honey,” Bradley groaned, his fingers tightening slightly and you traced your hand down the back of his hands, moaning when you felt the veins on the back of his hand. He didn’t squeeze tight, just enough to remind you he was there, and that he could, and just the thought had a coil tightening in your core, tingles spreading through your toes and fingers. 

“Bradley,” you whimpered, tears squeezing out of your eyes. “Baby, that feels so good, feels like yours, please–”

Bradley moaned into your skin, his lips latching onto your pulse point and sucking, and you keened, your back arching off the wall. The stretch of his cock was pulling your panties across your clit, and the driving press of him inside of you was so good, you could barely hear what he was whispering. 

“Is that what you want, honey?” he whispered into your skin. “Want to be mine? That’s what it feels like, honey, it feels like my pussy is so wet for me, dripping for this cock. It feels like my clit is so swollen, so desperate for attention; it feels like my girl’s gonna come on my hard fucking cock…”

Yes, yes that was what you wanted. 

You were already his, he didn’t know it, but hearing him say it had your mind going hazy, and your thighs trembling. 

“That’s fucking right, baby,” Bradley groaned, “I can feel you clenching down on me, can feel my pussy getting even tighter for me. This doesn’t feel like friends, baby, it feels like my girl’s about to come on my cock. 

You were lost, swimming in a sea of heat and sensation and Bradley’s words and you were pretty sure you were wailing, praying no one in the Hard Deck could hear you, but even if they could, you weren’t stopping. His cock was so deep in you, hitting you just right, and you knew what you needed to cum. 

“In me, Bradley,” you managed, your voice a weak whine. “Need to feel you come, please, fill me up with it.”

“Oh, fuck, honey,” Bradley choked, his hand tightening on your throat and his hips working faster. His pace was bruising, overwhelming, perfect and hard and you felt everything in you winding tighter.

“Of course you want my cum, fucking of course, if it’s my pussy, then that’s where it belongs isn’t it? That’s how you should be, stuffed so fucking full of me, dripping out of you, marked like mine, fucking mine–”

He was groaning, gasping, his hips speeding up and driving into you, and all you could do was take it, like it was what you were made for. You were boneless, euphoric, and when you felt Bradley’s hips stutter and his head drop to between your breasts, your orgasm broke over you. Bradley sagged into you, hips working weakly as he thrust his cum into you, and you felt it everywhere, marking you, like he said. You couldn’t breathe without him, only knew you were still vertical because he was holding you, and you felt so warm, so held, so full. 

His. 

You didn’t realize your eyes had closed until you were aware of Bradley asking you to open them. Your feet were on the ground, even though your legs were like a newborn deer, and your back was braced against the wall. Bradley was bent in front of you, brushing away your tears with the back of his hand. 

“Talk to me, honey,” he said softly, and you heard his voice like an echo, “need to know you’re okay.”

You nodded slowly, which mustn’t have been convincing, because Bradley was still fussing over you, like he hadn’t fucked you halfway into a new religion.  

You knew when he saw your back because of the sound of dismay that burst out of him, and then he was pulling off that damn Hawaiin shirt, brushing gravel off your back while your head hung low between your shoulders, still trying to remember how to breathe. 

Satisfied that he’d at least brushed the grit out of your skin, Bradley draped his shirt over your shoulders, protecting them, before guiding you to lean back. He licked his lips as his gaze tracked over your face, and you watched him convince himself to say something. 

“Did you mean it?” he asked quietly, but this time you heard him more clearly. “Would…would you want that? To be mine?”

It was your turn to stare. 

How could he doubt it? How was there any question? Not only after what you’d just begged him for, but before then, always, he had to know how good he was, and how all anyone wanted was to be in the light of his sunshine. 

“Obviously,” you said, your voice coming out as an alarming croak. “But we can’t, we–”

Bradley hugged you. 

It wasn’t what you expected.

After everything you’d just done, instigated by stop-talking kisses, there was something astonishingly intimate about Bradley wrapping you in his arms, enfolding you in his embrace, and you felt him relax when your arms hesitatingly wrapped around him too. He was warm, smelled like fresh sweat and you buried your face in the soft cotton of his undershirt. He held you tightly, and you thought he might’ve pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but then his hand was smoothing over your back, gentle, comforting. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, softly. “Together, okay?”

You nodded, knowing he could feel it, and he held you impossibly closer. It didn’t solve it. There were still fraternization rules, still some kind of unofficial vetting process you knew Mav and Ice would put you through, not to mention Penny…but as Bradley held you, you let it be enough.

And maybe it was enough, because, as your body hummed with the reminder of it, you were his.

//

tagging: @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @mxgyver @withahappyrefrain @teacupsandtopgun @lewmagoo @nancyxsorbet @sebsxphia @laracrofted @roleycoleyreccenter @sushiwriterhere @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @callsignvalley @wildbornsiren @hangmanshoney idk most people follow me for hangman and coyote so hope i did okay by roo

[dancermk]

I’m a little disappointed to see so much discourse, fandom competitiveness, and plain arguing going around at the moment in regards to queer film/TV. People complaining about too much sex, not enough sex, too cheesy, made for the hets, too happy, too sad, too realistic, too unrealistic, and a million other petty issues. I, for one, am a queer person in my 50s and I grew up with practically zero representation! Yes, we want to continue onwards and upwards with quality and varied shows BUT let’s be HAPPY we now have representation! Like, actual shows where the central characters are queer, not just a side character who gets f*cking murdered! There is room for all different types of representation - so enjoy the types you like, and let others enjoy what they like.

And on a side note: progress is progress and film/tv is a business that has to turn a profit! If some queer content is made to appeal to the straight community, and will also act as a means of reducing homophobia and increasing understanding, then that’s a good thing. That means in the future more and more content will include queer stories and representation. If only 10% (ish) of the population is the maximum target audience then shows won’t keep getting made!

There is a huge backlash all over the world right now - a “push back” by conservatives and religious groups that want to wind back the clock, and specifically the last decade of advances.

So stick together queers and LGBTQIA+ allies.

I’m super happy knowing I don’t have to wait years between content anymore. And I’ve loved all different types of shows over the last 5 years, for lots of different reasons!

Interview with the Vampire - is giving me the toxic, passionate gothic love affair I’ve always wanted. And addressing interracial relationships.

Heartstopper - is filling me up with pure joy and hopefulness for the future.

Shameless - gave me Ian and Mickey - unique, anti stereotypical gays with a tragic yet ultimately beautiful love story spanning 11 years

Lone Star 911 - is giving me TK and Carlos whose sexuality barely factors into the storyline! Yay!

Looking - gave me an authentic queer experience and an intoxicating love triangle.

Red, white and Royal Blue - gave me a sweet, cute romcom that allowed reality to be sidelined. Fun escapism!

Young Royals - had me captivated by first love and intense angst.

Fire Island - an underrated romcom that made me laugh so hard I cried.

Sex education - shoved the realities of sex in our faces and provided me with laughter and drama and a range of queer identities.

Gentlemen Jack -gave me historical lesbians with spectacular wit, and feminine power.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg- because there’s SO SO SO many more shows I could mention! Don’t at me because I didn’t mention YOUR favourite. This is my point! There is SO much great content it would take all day for me to include everything. This is just a sample - and that’s f*cking brilliant!!

So maybe we could all start posting/tweeting etc about what WE DO LIKE / LOVE / MAKES US FEEL LOVED AND SEEN and put down the device if we’ve got nothing nice to say.

Sending everyone a love filled week! 💜

[emilybeemartin]

Hey! Hey, would you like to be a park ranger?

USA Jobs just posted a bunch of national park ranger positions for summer 2024--everything from small historic sites to the big flagship parks like Yellowstone and Yosemite. These are seasonal positions specifically for interpretive rangers, which means you begin around May-ish and end around September-October-ish. Interpretation is the branch of the NPS that does educational programming and frontline visitor services, like working in the visitor centers, leading guided walks and talks, and just generally interacting with the public in a friendly, helpful way.

If you have a four-year college degree in just about any subject (honestly, I've worked with people with degrees ranging from theater to business to geoscience), or 12 months' relevant work experience (customer service, retail, education, camp counseling, etc), or a combination of the two, you're eligible to apply. All you need is a resume and transcripts if you're using education to qualify.

Just go to USAJobs.gov and search for "park ranger interpretation" in the search bar. The key things you're looking for in the results are listings from the National Park Service, the code GS 5 (which is the entry level for this position), and the phrase Not to Exceed 1039 hours (which indicates it's a seasonal position).

Some tips!

>Each application requires you to answer a questionnaire about your experience with things like customer service, preparing educational programs, researching scientific topics, etc. Be generous with yourself on these, because other folks will be. Even if you don't think you're an "expert" in something, consider your past work creatively. Have you presented research projects in class? Have you worked retail? Can you keep up a professional demeanor when somebody's upset? You have the qualifications. Rate yourself as such.

>Be thorough and specific in your resume. The NPS isn't a one-pager resume organization. They need to see evidence that you have the qualifications you say you do. The best way to ensure this is to copy, word for word, the phrases in the above questionnaire and insert them in the relevant places in your resume. So if the questionnaire says "Can you research, prepare, and present scientific information to a lay public," go to the appropriate place in your resume and write "I researched, prepared, and presented scientific information to my peers" or something similar. I kid you not, my current resume is ten pages long.

>Cover letters are optional but helpful! There are lots of templates online to help you write one; be sure to be professional. Mine is around 250 words and has three short paragraphs:

1- Position I'm applying for

2- Quick summary of most relevant work/education experience

3- Additional skills/rizz that makes me stand out (for me it's writing/illustrating, which helps me create visitor programs)

>Two things the NPS loves that will boost you are foreign language skills and being a US military veteran. Highlight these elements if you have them.

>Are you a schoolteacher? Check out the Teacher-Ranger-Teacher program.

>The big flashy parks are posted as standalone listings, but most of the others are bundled into "Multiple Locations" that are based on region. Consider applying for many of these smaller monuments and historic sites---they get far fewer applicants and are easier to secure. And many are absolutely beautiful. Want to work at Arches? Also apply to Natural Bridges. Want to work in Yellowstone? Also try Lassen Volcanic. Prefer history over science? You have dozens of amazing options from every facet of American history.

>Apply today! Apply now! Many of these parks cap their applicants because they get so many, and the rest will close after a week or so. A glance at the ones that were posted today and yesterday show them either closing on October 15 or 22. Some regions haven't posted yet, so keep checking the website in the next few weeks.

I love my work as a park ranger---it's such a rewarding way to spend a summer (or two, or ten), and it can open doors to other things. You won't get rich, but you will make great friends and great memories, add a killer section to your resume, and spend four months immersed with smart, passionate people in some of the coolest places in the US.

Plus you get a SICK HAT

[little-diable]

We Were Cowboys - Dean Winchester (smut)

I kept on listening to the song "We Were Cowboys" by Kameron Marlowe as I wrote this, so I also used some lyrics from the song. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: As Dean and Sam travel back to March 4th 1861 Dean stumbles upon the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. Will one night with her be enough for him? Will he be able to leave her behind the next day?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), unprotected piv, set in s6e18 so a somewhat historic situation, some heartbreak I guess, reader works as a prostitute

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.5k words)

Daddy watched John Wayne on a corduroy couch, I didn't know Texas from a hole in the ground but it roped me in, that's where it all began

March 4th 1861

The sound of her heels meeting the wooden stairs echoed through the saloon, though not one pair of eyes found her frame, fully focused on Darla and the way she tried to talk up the two strangers. As much as (y/n) tried to keep her eyes from wandering to the slightly smaller stranger of the two, she couldn’t stop herself from doing so, instantly drawn in by the green eyes that reminded her of the green grass basking in the summer heat, something she’ll be able to take in in only a few months time. 

Even though she’d never admit it out loud, not daring to risk her place within this community, (y/n) found pride in the way the stranger didn’t seem to enjoy Darla’s company. (Y/n) had never been one to make many friends, preferring to keep to herself, even as she had left her family behind. She had known from an early age that there was no longer a place for her among the many siblings her parents barely could look after, let alone feed. Darla had never been kind to (y/n), fuelled by her arrogant self, and the way she was praised as the best girl around.

Only as Darla followed the judge upstairs did (y/n) dare move closer, eyes drawn to the man’s green ones again. He shot her a warm smile, tipping his head in a somewhat awkward though warm gesture. She could instantly tell that they weren't from around here, something about them seemed out of place, something she couldn't put her finger on quite yet. For a second she took in the other man, the taller one who smiled at her just as kindly, though redirected his gaze within a few seconds.

“What’s your name, darling?” The green-eyed man smiled at her, leaning against the bar. (Y/n) tried not to overthink the smile he wore, tried not to overthink the interest he seemed to have for her, gaze flickering to Mister Elkins’ hard eyes – a silent warning she stupidly ignored, not wanting to back away from the chance to share some more words with the handsome stranger.

“It’s (y/n), what about you?” Just as the man parted the lips she tried not to stare at, they were interrupted by a scream, heads whipping towards the stairs. She watched the guys race upstairs, forced to stay behind by the warning words Elkins spoke to her. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest as if she had been running for miles on end. Perhaps she had never been a friend of Darla, trying to avoid her at any cost, but she could only pray that nothing bad had happened to her, she wasn’t one to wish anything evil to come upon others, especially not women who were forced to make their living the same way (y/n) was. 

And as the men made their way back downstairs moments later, seemingly deep in thought, (y/n) could only catch the small smile the handsome stranger shot her way before leaving the saloon. 

We were cowboys, runnin' like wild horses that couldn't be tamed, we were cowboys, didn't know nothing but we knew everything

……

“Come in!” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the room, turning away from her window to watch a tall figure step into her room. It was too dark for her to make out the man’s features, voice trembling as a somewhat determined “I don’t take any customers this evening” rolled off her tongue. 

“Excuse me, I didn’t want to disturb your night.” A smile made its way to (y/n)’s lips at the sound of the stranger’s voice, walking closer with the lamp she had originally placed down on her bedside table now in hand. His eyes were no longer filled with that twinkling green colour she had been thinking of all day, they now had a slightly darker touch to them, filled with mystery, with secrets, with longing. 

“You never told me your name.” She watched him ponder over her words for a few seconds, wondering why he struggled this much with telling her his name. The few seconds of silence were used by her wandering eyes to take in the spots covering his cheek and nose, the freckles her fingertips longed to trace, wanting to count every single one. 

“My name’s Dean, but that has to stay between the both of us. I hope you can keep a secret, darling.” With a hum leaving her, (y/n) took another step closer, front about to touch Dean’s. Softly she murmured his name, tasting it on her tongue as Dean’s hand found her cheek. She feared he could pick up on the racing beat of her heart, coming across as nervous, as uncomfortable – and yet she felt anything but uncomfortable, hoping that she’d be fortunate enough to feel his warm hands on her chest, her behind, between her thighs. “I’ve seen many pretty women, but you’re something else, sweetheart.”

“Am I? How?” The teasing grin she shot him left Dean chuckling, dipping his head down, lips ghosting over hers. A moan threatened to claw through (y/n) even though Dean hadn’t touched her yet, still keeping his distance as if he was waiting for her to make the first move. She didn’t want to waste another second, shifting her weight to meet his lips in a searing kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pressing her even closer to his front, moving them backwards to her bed. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are to me, I’ve never been good with words.” Her throat was too tight to reply, too nervous to speak up, only raising her arms for Dean to pull her nightgown over her head, groaning at her naked frame. The “Fuck” that left Dean made her chuckle with glee, hands toying with his belt, begging him to undress. “I’d kill to get enough time to treat you like you deserve, but I fear I don’t have more than an hour.”

“That’s alright, just touch me, Dean.” Not once had she felt this way towards a man before, needing, begging him to touch her, an unfamiliar longing she was addicted to now. (Y/n) tried not to spare the passing by seconds too much thought, wanting to appreciate the time she got with him, no matter how short it may be. “I’ll do anything for you, just tell me what you need.”

“No, this is all about you, darling.” Pain dripped from Dean’s words, forced to realise that she was too used to giving up her body for the joy of other men. He didn’t want to be like them; he couldn’t be like them. Dean pushed her backwards, watching her plop down on the mattress with a gasp, staring up at him with wide eyes. She wasn’t used to being looked after, wasn’t used to relaxing around another man, but with Dean, she felt safe, with Dean she felt complete.

“You need to tell me if you don’t like what I’m doing, you understand?” Dean’s voice dripped with something that left (y/n) shuddering, making her feel as if he was willing to fight her battles. He’d take care of her, even if it was only for the few minutes she got with him. With a nod thrown Dean’s way, her gaze followed his every move, watching him kiss his way up her thighs to the place where she needed him the most.

Dean’s eyes were focused on her cunt, groaning at the sight of her arousal coating her skin, dripping for his touch only. He’d feast from her, would show (y/n) what it meant to be properly touched, something both of them would forever remember. With her eyes following his every movement, she choked on his name as he drove for her cunt, sucking on her pulsing bundle. 

“Oh, Jesus, fuck, that feels so good.” Never had she been touched like this before, not with as much passion guiding the men who came to visit her, not with as much determination guiding their every brush of their tongue. The smirk he shot her left (y/n) shuddering, watching the green-eyed stranger brush his tongue through her slit, groaning at the taste of her.

“Feels like heaven, you’ve already got me addicted.” She didn’t ponder over his words, didn’t ask any further questions – already too far gone. One of his slightly calloused fingertips found her clit, rubbing it as he dipped his tongue into her tightness, spreading her walls while he imagined what it must feel like to have her wrapped around his cock. Soon he’d give in, soon he’d fuck her as if she was the only one he’d ever get to touch. Dean would move heaven and hell for (y/n), for her to be looked after, even if it was just for their one single hour together.

She arched her back off the mattress as a deep moan clawed through her, begging Dean for his fingers, needing to feel them buried inside of her. Dean followed every command her body sent out, pushing two fingers into her heat as he kept sucking on her clit. The unfamiliar sensations were enough to push her higher and higher up the ladder, scared of the fall she’d soon have to endure – (y/n) could only pray that Dean would catch her, soften the blow her heart would have to endure the second he left. 

“Cum on my tongue, sweetheart, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.” His raspy voice rang in her ears, eyes squeezed shut and toes curled as she came for him. Dean grinned against her soft skin, enjoying the way she trembled, how she gasped for any air to fill her tight lungs. A spectacle so wonderful he cursed himself for not taking his phone with him, he’d for sure take a picture of her pleasure-drunken features if he could.

“That was intense,” (y/n) whispered her words, eyes glassy while her hands kept gripping the covers she was lying on, scared that she’d wake from this dream. Dean crawled up her body, pressing his bulge against her sensitive cunt, wordlessly showing her how much he wanted her, needed her. “Fuck me, Dean, make me yours, please. Even if it’s just for tonight.” 

For a second his mind managed to rip him out of his thoughts, forcing himself to remember that he’d have to pull out, unable to use any protection. But just the sight of (y/n), bare for him, mind and eyes hazy, thoroughly fucked out, was enough to give him the needed push. Dean rose to his feet to shuffle out of his clothes, unable to bite down his grin at the way she gasped as her eyes found his hard cock. 

“You’re so handsome.” (Y/n) looked at him as if he was a piece of art, a statue crafted by ancient artists, a god-like figure, she was sure of it. Dean found her lips, kissing her softly as he pumped himself for a few moments before he pushed into her. Both groaned in unison, needing to adjust to one another’s body, needing to get used to the way he stretched her oh so perfectly. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.” Dean couldn’t rip his eyes away, hoping to burn every passing second into his buzzing mind. For tonight she was his, for tonight it was just her and him, for tonight it was just the crush on her he felt getting stronger with every calculated thrust. Dean fucked her like only a husband would fuck his wife, at least that’s what (y/n) found herself believing, doubting that any other man would ever touch her like this.

Her moans guided Dean on, ringing in his ears like a song he’d blast while taking a tour with Baby, finding himself relaxing further into the comfortable seat, not guided by any worries or fears, just him and the never-ending land stretching ahead of him. Fuck, he had it bad for her, for a woman who lived in the past, a woman he’d never see again. 

(Y/n) clawed at his warm skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t fade for a few days, leaving Dean heartbroken whenever he looked at them in his mirror. Her eyes rolled back into her head, trapped in a thick blanket of darkness Dean had pushed her into, set on fucking her till she forgot her own name. Perhaps he could take her with him, perhaps he could free her from this life she was forced to live, perhaps he could keep her close – forever. 

“Dean, I-” her moans kept interrupting her, unable to say anything else, needing to hold onto the handsome man who fucked her as if the devil was chasing him. His thrusts grew rougher, and yet they were somewhat loving, hoping that she felt the same sensation thumping through her veins.

He was hers, if she wanted him. 

“Cum for me, show me again how pretty you look when you let go.” Another moan left (y/n) as she came around his cock, a sensation so strong she was close to passing out. It took Dean a few more moments to push himself over the edge, remembering to pull out just a second before he came, staining her soft skin with his cum. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Tears welled up in her eyes, about to roll down her cheeks, guided by the strong orgasm that had clawed through her, by the crush she felt growing deep inside of her, by the realisation that he’d have to leave any moment now. Another deep kiss was pressed to her lips before Dean let go of her, rising to his feet to quickly redress. Silence engulfed them as he helped (y/n) clean up, putting her nightgown back on. 

“Dean, can I ask you something?” A hum left him, green eyes connected with hers, a warm hand cupping her cheek. He tried to memorise every part of her face, scared to let her go just yet. “You’re not from here, are you? I mean, you’re not from my time, you can’t be.”

He froze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Slowly he shook his head, carefully watching her, unsure how she’d react. But all (y/n) did was nod, kiss him again, and murmur a soft “Your secret is safe with me”.

Once again, they were wrapped in silence, knowing that it was time to let go, to part ways, to never meet again. But Dean couldn’t, he couldn’t leave her behind, not when knowing that she was the one he wanted to offer his heart to. With a deep exhale leaving him, Dean cleared his throat, choking on a whispered “Will you come with me? Back to my time?”. 

Couldn’t tell us nothing, ‘cause man, we were something, damn, we were something, we were cowboys 

[nickysfacts]

Turns out that the secret to having skin like a feminine goddess, is just dousing yourself daily in ass milk!🐴

🧖🏻‍♀️🥛🧖🏾‍♀️

[saraswritingtipps]

Unleash Your Inner Vampire: Tips for Writing Vampire

1. Study Vampire Legends and Lore: Immerse yourself in vampire mythology and folklore from various cultures. Familiarize yourself with popular vampire tales, historical references, and the diverse interpretations of these immortal creatures.

2. Immortality and Eternal Life: Explore the themes of immortality, longevity, and the consequences that come with eternal life. Delve into the existential questions, moral dilemmas, and emotional complexities that arise from living through the ages.

3. Supernatural Abilities and Weaknesses: Define the unique set of supernatural abilities and weaknesses your vampires possess. Consider powers such as superhuman strength, speed, heightened senses, and the need for blood as sustenance. Establish the vulnerabilities, such as sunlight, garlic, holy symbols, or wooden stakes, that can be used against them.

4. Bloodlust and Temptation: Portray the powerful and primal urge vampires have for blood. Describe the inner struggle to maintain control, resist temptation, and reconcile their predatory nature with their humanity. Explore the psychological and moral conflicts that arise from their insatiable thirst.

5. Immortal Society and Clans: Create a complex social structure and hierarchy within the vampire community. Develop vampire clans or covens, each with their own traditions, rules, and relationships. Explore the dynamics between older, more influential vampires and newly turned ones.

6. Nighttime Environments and Atmosphere: Craft a vivid portrayal of the vampire's nocturnal world. Describe the allure of moonlit nights, mysterious gothic settings, and the ethereal beauty that accompanies their existence in the shadows.

7. Vampire Origins and Transformations: Establish the origins and methods of vampiric transformation in your story. Explore the lore behind their creation, whether through a bite, a curse, or a supernatural event. Consider the physical and emotional changes that occur during the transformation process.

8. Hunting and Feeding Rituals: Delve into the rituals and methods vampires employ when hunting for blood. Describe their seductive charm, mesmerizing allure, and the art of choosing and mesmerizing their prey. Showcase the duality of violence and sensuality that accompanies their feeding.

9. Humanity and Redemption: Allow your vampire characters to grapple with their lost humanity and the possibility of redemption. Explore their desires to reconnect with their past, form meaningful relationships, or find purpose beyond their existence as predators.

10. Vampire Hunters and Threats: Introduce conflicts and adversaries that challenge your vampires' existence. Include vampire hunters, rival factions, or other supernatural creatures that pose a threat to their secrecy and survival.

Remember to infuse your writing with atmospheric descriptions, emotional depth, and explore the complexities of the vampire's existence. Let your imagination soar as you delve into the captivating world of vampires.

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕖𝕟: ℍ𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕩

🥀Pairing: Kang Yeosang x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: ninja au, anime au, Naruto au, historical au

🥀Trope: enemies to lovers

🥀Summary: when you claim that Yeosang was a man of no emotions and Yeosang demanded you prove yourself right, a passionate and hot sex session follows

🥀Kinks: hate sex, rough sex, degradation kink, fingering (f), mean dom! yeosang, mean sub! reader, breast/nipple play, strength kink, creampie

🥀Word Count: 1,693

🥀author's note: thanks to @mejuii for helping my gears begin to turn. Apologies for any terms you don't understand, I pulled directly the anime and this was completely self indulgent

🥀Day Nine: Long Distance Sex/ Praise 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia

Your ancestors would, in fact, be rolling in their graves if they knew whose fingers were deep inside of you. Your hips rolled into the hand that was giving you pleasure, but he wasn’t going to just let you take from him without giving back.

“What’s this?” Yeosang purred into the shell of your ear. “I thought you said there was no way that you could possibly get pleasure from anything I ever did to you?”

“Fuck off, Yeosang,” You snarled weakly, hips still bucking into his movements.

“Kinda pitiful, really?” Yeosang continued to torture you with his words. “A Senju letting an Uchiha fuck her with his fingers. We should be fighting instead of fucking.”

A jolt went through your nerves. It tightened your nipples immediately and made your lower half flood even more than it already was.

“Who’s fucking?” You argued, “You’re incapable of anything other than throwing barbed insults and using those damn eyes of yours.”

Yeosang hummed mockingly in agreement. “Right, how could a passionless man possibly fuck?”

You had been sent by the Hogage herself to infiltrate the Akatsuki. What you hadn't been aware of was that Yeosang, who had gone rogue when his elder sister had died by his own hands, had joined up with the merry band of shit disturbers. You had been sent here to figure out exactly what their grand plan was. You most definitely were not sent here to fuck the enemy, let alone an enemy that was generations in the making. 

All you had to do was keep your mouth shut, but you were so sick and tired of Yeosang's damn emotionless face. You had watched him fight, watched others die, and he never showed a single drop of emotion. You, however, had cried when the first Jinchuriki had died for the Akatsuki’s grand plans. Yeosang had accused you of having a weakness.

“Shouldn’t you have ripped your heart out a long time ago, great granddaughter of Hashirama?” Yeosang had mocked you then. 

“Oh, go find someone else to spar with Yeosang, I'm tired of you,” You had attempted to dismiss him.

What you hadn't known was that your explosions of emotions were what Yeosang looked forward to the most. He was so devoid of feeling anything for such a long time that you were refreshing, despite all his provoking. 

Yeosang quirked an eyebrow at you, making direct eye contact, the most you had ever seen that beautiful face move. “Tire of me? I haven’t heard that one before. Normally, everyone is begging me to show them something.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Like that would ever happen. I don’t think you would know emotion if it hit you on the head.” That’s when you pushed it. “In fact, I doubt anyone could get a rise out of you, including your cock.”

Yeosang cocked his head at you, face still blank. “Don’t think I know how to use the sword on my body?”

“Tch.” You sneered. “I highly doubt you could please someone, let alone be passionate.”

A shiver went from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes as Yeosang smirked. You should have been terrified. Instead, you were turned on. “Do you want to test that out, brat?”

You took a step forward that brought you nose to nose with the enemy of your ancestors. “I’d relish proving you wrong.”

And then the rough sex that followed was like nothing you had ever experienced. You both ripped your robes in order to grope at each other’s chest. Yeosang pushed your breasts together while massaging them while you flicked your thumbs over his nipples, looking for him to break. 

You wrestled and fought for the upper hand, to be the more dominant one, but Yeosang was simply a smidgeon stronger than you. He pinned you against his chest, an arm against your collarbones, and he began to play with your body even more. It wasn’t until those skilled fingers found your wet folds that you heard a low chuckle in your ear. 

“Are you having fun, little one? You’re so wet I would think you were eager to be beneath me.”

You were so shocked by the sound of his laugh but didn’t fight him when he released your upper body and instead pulled one of your legs up so he could have easier access to your aching puss. 

“That’s simply the adrenaline talking,” You argued. You had to bite hard into your lips to keep the moan that was attempting to escape your lips in. “Like I could ever get pleasure from something you did to me.”

Except now, that was exactly what was happening. And you were starting to think that Yeosang was enjoying himself. 

“Does it make you wet at the thought that I’ll impale you in the middle of this forest where anyone could stumble upon us? Hmmm, little brat? Want someone to watch while your mortal enemy fucks you into an orgasm?” Yeosang teased and tempted you.

A whine was building in the back of your throat and the plea for him to fuck you was on the tip of your tongue. But your pride was burning your throat. 

“You have to say it,” Yeosang whispered into the skin along your neck. “I could bring you to the peak of your pleasure and stop. Again and again. In fact, I could torture you with my Tsukuyomi in that very way, and only a moment would pass.”

“Make no mistake,” You panted, your body still rolling into his hand as his fingers squealched and fucked your pussy. “I hate you.”

“And yet.” Yeosang was hanging off your words. He just needed you to give him the go-ahead, and he would show you exactly how you affect his emotions and his passion. 

“Fuck me, Yeosang,” You asked lowly, “Make me feel something for you that isn’t hatred.”

Yeosang moaned. “Gladly.”

With both of his hands cupping just under your knees, Yeosang held you aloft and lowered you down on his straining cock. You whimpered as he fought his way inside of you, thrusting into your wet cunt, making room in your soft walls for his cock. Each inch pushed inside was torture because it felt so good but you wanted the whole of him inside of you; you needed to be fucked until you screamed from your orgasm.

Each whimper that you let out as Yeosang fucked you was a gift to the Uchiha. For someone who had suppressed quite a lot in his life, sex was the one time he could let loose. The way you trembled for him, begged for him, whined for him was reawakening parts of him that he thought had long died. But what he wanted the most was for you to say his name with passion. He wanted to hear your name drip like honey from your lips instead of like poison.

“Does it feel that good, being fucked by your mortal enemy, brat?” Yeosang poked at you. “Does my cock give you that much pleasure that you have no more words to throw at me like a kunai?”

Your head lolled back, pleasure making you a willing ragdoll for Yeosang to fuck. You had never felt this way with any man. It was like with each stroke of Yeosang inside of you, he was looking for you to be pleased rather than himself. It was as if he wasn’t taking from you but giving. 

“How is it so good?” You rasped hoarsely, your moans already making your throat dry. “I’ve never felt such pleasure before?!”

“There’s a reason they beg me to never leave,” Yeosang admitted tonelessly, “After one taste of me, you’ll be ruined for everyone else. On that, I can swear.”

You believed him because no cock had ever felt as good as the one sheathed between your legs did now. “Wanna cum,” You whimpered, mind solely on your growing orgasm.

“Already? You’re a greedy brat,” Yeosang mocked you. “You’re an easy lay.”

“I’m--hnnnn-not--ah, ah, ah--just--fuck, shit, Yeosang! Yeosang, just like that,” You whined, the build up of your orgasm ushered by the way that Yeosang fucked up into your pussy like a well oiled machine. 

“Say my name like that again,” Yeosang demanded.

“Yeosang! Yeosang! Yeosang!”

He came inside of you with a quiet grunt, buried deep inside of you. He unloaded into you, an amount that filled you to the brim and then spilled out. You felt as his cum dripped out of you and onto the ground of the forest. 

With the final thrust, so deep inside of you that you felt his tip nudging your womb, you came. You screamed his name, stars lighting up behind your eyelids as you were gifted with such an intense orgasm that you were happy that Yeosang was holding you aloft.

Yeosang let go of one leg, then another, a hand on your waist to make sure you didn’t collapse. “Let me fuck you like that again, brat. I promise you I can show you a lot more.”

Wooyoung’s hyena laughter shattered the illusion that Yeosang had created just as he released you. “He’s right, you know. Men and women beg for him to show them something other than his cool, pretty face.”

Yeosang had indeed used his Tsukuyomi, the power of his eyes to trap you in a moment in your own mind, and had fucked you there the minute you had met his eyes. The illusion, the mind power, was so powerful that it felt exactly like reality. 

Your face burned with embarrassment. Your undergarments were simply flooded from the pleasure your mind had thought you had received. Your clothes were not ripped either. Wooyoung’s laughter died, and he peered at you and then Yeosang with curiosity. 

“You two should just fuck already, the sexual tension is palpable,” Wooyoung observed, albeit a second too late.

You screamed in anger, triggering a tree to grow, capturing Wooyoung by the collar and leaving him hanging, not quite understanding what exactly he had said. And Yeosang, the immovable statue of the Akatsuki, laughed at his best friend and partner, unable to contain any glee at the moment.

🥀Day Nine: Long Distance Sex/ Praise 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia

[daze4all]

Gifts for You From Him HSR Verison

Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Argenti Gifts Reader for Christmas Drabble

Dan Heng gifts a book probably practical but possibly a fun fantastical read, more likely a book about strange beasts found in the wild he archived, or historical information about the many planets that would be useful on a trailblazing journey.

"I thought you would enjoy reading about this" he'd say practically maybe a bit embarrassed tip of his ears red if he ended up giving you the wrong book by mistake maybe about romance lol.

"It would be good to learn about this during our trailblazing " He'd say as he hand over the wrapped book that reader would tear open to see the cover

"....yes romance will be important...." Seriously intones reader reading the title of the book they received realizing it was a romance novel

"Yes, I put it together my--wait -romance? That's the wrong book take this one instead" says Dan Heng flustered as he takes out another from the archives a practical compendium of beasts he observed in the would and shoves it at you.

"I'll take both! Both seem useful~" says MC!Reader with teasing lilt as they take the second novel but refuse to relinquish the romance novel

Dan Heng blushing so hard that the tips of his ears even turn red as he coughs and tries to play it cool as he says "If that's what you wish..."

Secretly reader takes this a go to start making moves.

(Somehow I see this as Trailblazer Stelle or Caelus doing this lol)

Jing Yuan gifts a game set laying out intricate carved pieces made of precisely metal or stones out carefully with sweeping gesture "Shall we play ? "

Something like shogi, go, or chess that he would also offer to teach. A game to play and a master to spend time talking over to spice it up once you get it he may add the risk of bet.

Just make sure he doesn't sneak eat the pieces to win (as infleunced by meme just joking).

He'd probably beat you anyways as a master strategist without any tricks

But what will you give me if I win?" He purrs golden eyes flicking over set up the board a playful lazy smile like big cat on his lips.

Argenti gifts his signature argenti rose down on one knee like its proposal.

The closet approximation of giving himself as the a gift the classy way as well as "giving himself over to your beauty" he says

It's cheesy but the gift and gesture suits him being the quirky but gallant knight of beauty that he is.

[soiwatchyougo]

i can see you

teen readers only- suggestive content.

From Ingrid’s seat in the Royal box, she had a perfect view.

She could see the swarms of fans excitedly finding their seats, the stadium slowly filling up until it was a sea of blue and red. She could see the big screens that showcased the score, but that were currently running through the lineups. Most importantly, she could see the pitch.

The pitch that currently housed one of the hottest women Ingrid had ever seen.

Probably the hottest.

Ingrid knew that as the princess of Norway, she should be completely focused on her team. It was a historic moment, with Norway reaching the final of the Nations League and already qualifying for the Olympics. Despite a few rocky years, they had flourished under new leadership and were desperate to win their first title in over a decade.

But Ingrid couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to the other side of the pitch where Spain was warming up. The Spanish team looked cool and composed, and although Ingrid could admit that the entire team was unfairly attractive, her eyes were drawn to one specific player.

Number 16.

Mapi Leon.

Ingrid felt her mouth going dry as she watched the defender calmly shoot the ball from outside the box, her stretched leg showcasing her toned quadriceps.

God, I would ride that.

Ingrid nearly choked on air, quickly banishing her intrusive thoughts. She watched the ball sail behind the goalkeeper and into the back of the net, and she couldn’t help but smirk as the defender shrugged at her teammates, as if scoring goals like that was an everyday occurrence.

Ingrid tore her eyes away from the tattooed defender, aware that if she stared any longer, she might start drooling. Covertly, her eyes scanned the cameras to make sure no one had caught her pining after the opposition. Her attendance was common, even at away games, and she knew it was important to always be professional. She rarely celebrated with the team, even though her heart ached to be dancing with them in the locker room. She had played football as a child, and although she had to stop due to security concerns, she still loved the game. She avidly watched the Norwegian league, and one of her main roles within the royal family was to promote women in sports.

The teams finished their warm-ups, and Ingrid nonchalantly watched them walk towards her. Her box was positioned just above the tunnel, and Ingrid had never been more grateful to have the best seats in the house. From her position, she could watch as Mapi erupted into laughter at one of her teammate’s jokes. Her eyes creased with joy as she tipped her head back, exposing her neck tattoo and highlighting her sharp jawline. Her brown eyes were shining with mischief as she glanced up at Ingrid and nodded slightly, her mouth turning up into a small smile. Ingrid could feel her heart thumping and her skin growing clammy as the Spaniard disappeared into the tunnel.

The truth was Mapi could turn Ingrid into a stumbling mess with just one look.

Ingrid hated how much the defender could affect her. Even during tricky negotiations with presidents, she remained calm, never letting her emotions overcome her. She had spoken to millions on television, attended countless balls full of billionaires and world leaders and negotiated trade deals.

Yet nothing rattled her as much as Mapi did.

She had first seen the defender nearly a year ago when she attended the Champions League final. Despite there being no Norwegian teams present, Ingrid still thought it would be beneficial to watch and promote the match. She had travelled to London knowing very little about Barcelona or PSG, her focus having been on developing the Norwegian league. In hindsight, she probably should’ve researched the players.

Then at least she wouldn’t have been quite so blown away by Mapi’s beauty.

The entire match, she couldn’t take her eyes off the defender. Even when Mapi was simply standing and watching her team attack, Ingrid’s eyes were glued to her. She barely even noticed the goals, and every time Mapi got the ball Ingrid held her breath, cursing any player that tried to tackle her. Even Ingrid’s distance from the pitch couldn’t disguise the way her shirt clung to her arms, or her smirk when she successfully regained possession, her confident demeanour making Ingrid shift uncomfortably in her seat.

Ingrid had been invited onto the pitch after the match, her royal status making her a celebrity. The nerves that overcame her were foreign, and she couldn’t believe that she had been more confident having dinner with the Prime Minister the previous night. She shook the hands of the victorious Barcelona players, congratulating them on their 3-1 win.

Finally, Mapi reached her. Ingrid wiped her clammy hands on her trousers and smiled at the defender, lifting her eyes and reaching her hand out. Mapi’s strong hand squeezed hers, and Ingrid’s knees went weak, her hand turning limp.

Ingrid blushed as she quickly pulled her hand away. She blamed her sudden attraction for Mapi on the fact that it had been a while since she had been laid. Everyone she met had to go through rigorous security checks, so she had nearly given up on dating, relying on her well-used vibrator.

“Thank you for coming, princesa ,” Mapi said in accented English, “I hope you enjoyed the game.”

Ingrid’s face turned impossibly redder at the way her title slipped out of the Spaniard’s mouth. She had never heard it sound sexier than in Mapi’s Spanish drawl, and paired with the smirk on the defender’s face, it was a killer combination.

“Uh,” Ingrid managed to stumble, “I did, thank you. You played very well.”

This time it was Mapi’s turn to blush and rub the back of her neck nervously; a girl didn’t get complimented by a princess every day. The Norwegian looked effortlessly stunning in a tailored blue suit, and Mapi couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

During the match Mapi couldn’t stop her eyes from unconsciously darting to where Ingrid was sitting, her eyes always finding startling green. She added a few extra flourishes to her moves to impress the princess, and when the final whistle blew, she looked up to the stands hoping to see Ingrid cheering. The princess tried to remain neutral, but Mapi could’ve sworn that she saw her mouth turn up in a small smile, a sight that made Mapi grin.

“I’m glad you noticed,” she said cheekily, her honey-brown eyes lighting up. “I hope to see you again- if you’re ever in Barcelona, I’ve been told I make a pretty good tour guide.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the Norwegian replied with a chuckle. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had tried to woo her, most people too intimidated by her status to try. But Mapi didn’t seem nervous, which only served to make Ingrid’s heart beat faster, butterflies fluttering in her chest.

Ingrid waited until she got home to search for the Spaniard on Instagram, using her anonymous account. Much to Ingrid’s delight, Mapi didn’t shy away from posting her holiday snaps, and Ingrid reluctantly reached into her bedside draw, her thrumming need outweighing her shame; it should be illegal to be that attractive.

Ingrid was pulled out of her reminiscing by the players re-entering the pitch. They lined up to sing their national anthems, and Ingrid watched in appreciation. She never sang the anthem as it felt too odd to sing about saving her father, but she made sure to nod and wave when it had finished.

Finally, the whistle blew, and the players immediately started running. Ingrid’s eyes automatically strayed to Mapi and she had to physically drag them away, knowing that this time she had a team to support. It was a physical game and both teams pressed hard, capitalising on loose passes and mis-timed tackles. By half-time the score was level, and the players looked exhausted as they walked back into the tunnel. Ingrid couldn’t help but notice the way Mapi’s shirt highlighted her muscles and sweat dripped off her face, her jaw clenched as she listened to her teammates.

Ingrid used the half-time break to converse with Norway’s Prime Minister and a few other members of Parliament. She was bored out of her mind, and she barely focused on what they were saying, silently praying for the match to restart so she could return to her seat.

The second half was no less competitive, and Ingrid held her breath as Spain managed to slot another shot into the back of the net. Fortunately, that meant Norway focused on attacking and Ingrid got to watch Mapi guilt-free. The defender was completely in her element and Ingrid couldn’t help but blush as her mind wandered, thinking of all the other ways the Spaniard could be in control.

Ingrid winced as the full-time whistle blew. Norway had lost, and although it was great for them to reach the final, it was painful to be so close and not be able to grasp the victory. The Spanish players started to celebrate on the pitch as Ingrid slowly made her way down, stopping and thanking several people on the way. Even though Norway hadn’t won, Ingrid was still going to present the medals, but truthfully, she was just looking forward to seeing Mapi.

Since their first meeting, the Norwegian hadn’t been able to get the defender out of her mind. She thought that over time the crush would weaken, but if anything, it got stronger. She constantly checked the Spaniard’s Instagram and secretly watched the Barcelona games on her laptop, quickly flicking to another tab if anyone entered. Sheepishly, she searched Mapi online and spent an afternoon watching her interviews, blushing when she laughed out loud at the Spaniard’s cheesy comments.

She wasn’t sure why she was so obsessed with this woman she had only briefly met, but there was something about the juxtaposition of her hard appearance and bubbly personality that made Ingrid’s heart flutter.

She had to stop herself from immediately heading towards Mapi, first consoling her team and congratulating them on their performance. It was taking a while for them to set up the stage, so Ingrid chatted with the players, her eyes searching for a certain defender. Her brow furrowed as she swivelled her head, Mapi nowhere in sight. Ingrid knew she was smaller, but she didn’t think she was that unnoticeable.

A tap on her back made her turn around in confusion. Not many people were brave enough to touch a princess, let alone a cheeky pat on the back.

“Hola princesa,” Mapi said with a smile, her tone teasing. She wasn’t sure where the confidence to flirt with a princess had originated from, but she knew that it made Ingrid’s eyes light up, so she figured there was no harm in a bit of fun.

Ingrid face broke out into a wide grin when she noticed it was the defender. Mapi’s face was still red from playing, and she was tightly gripping a water bottle, her tattooed hands veiny. Ingrid couldn’t believe she was thirsting over someone’s hands, but it seemed like every part of the Spaniard was attractive.

“Hello Maria,” Ingrid said sweetly, her body thrumming with a mix of nerves and arousal, “congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you,” Mapi said cheekily, “I always play better when I know there’s a pretty girl in the crowd.”

Her eyes roamed the Norwegian’s face, and Ingrid couldn’t stop the blush from colouring her cheeks.

One compliment.

One compliment from Mapi Leon and she was a stumbling mess.

“Uh, that’s nice,” Ingrid said, finally managing to regain some sense.

“You should come to our afterparty,” Mapi said, her eyes lighting up at the prospect, “you’re more than welcome- most people are bringing family members or friends.”

“Uhh,” Ingrid said with a wince, “I’m not sure I should be seen fraternizing with the opposition.”

Mapi’s face fell, and Ingrid felt a pang in her heart. She desperately wanted to party with the Spaniard, but she was a princess ; the media would crucify her. For as long as she could remember, she had been a perfect professional, never putting a foot wrong. Some people thought she was hard and cold, but Ingrid was just trying to protect herself, no matter how difficult it was to always be calm and appear unfeeling.

Something had started to change recently. She was tired of always putting her royal duties first, and she couldn’t recall the last time someone had invited her out. It dawned on her that she may never see Mapi again, and this might be her only chance to spend time with the woman she had spent the last year obsessing over.

“Well,” the Norwegian continued hesitantly, “I could try and sneak in...”

“Really?” Mapi said excitedly, “I would make sure no one took any photos with you in, and if you want a Spanish shirt as a disguise, I’ve got plenty.”

“Steady Maria- I’m not that much of a traitor,” Ingrid said with a chuckle. She found the Spaniard’s rambling rather adorable, and under different circumstances, she wouldn’t be against wearing Mapi’s name on her back.

Mapi looked sheepishly at the ground. She could barely contain her excitement, but she didn’t want to scare Ingrid off before the party had even started. The Norwegian was taking a risk coming to the celebration, and Mapi was determined to make sure that she wouldn’t regret coming.

“Let me just go and get my phone to text you the address,” the defender said, already sprinting towards the changing room. Ingrid watched her retreating form with a smile on her face. Mapi had her wrapped around her little finger, and Ingrid couldn’t remember the last time she had been so excited yet nervous to attend an event. She was already mentally sorting her closet for an appropriate outfit, the small problem of evading her bodyguards barely dampening her joyful mood.

Mapi sprinted back, and Ingrid couldn’t help but admire her endurance; she had just played 90 minutes of hard football. The defender enthusiastically unlocked her phone and handed it to Ingrid, a shy smile on her face. Ingrid typed in her name and phone number, her thumb shaking slightly with nerves as she pressed the keyboard. It felt oddly intimate to be holding Mapi’s phone, and she reluctantly handed it back to the expectant Spaniard.

“Are there any drinks you like? We normally have beer, but I don’t know what you drink in Norway. I can get anything from the shop...”

Mapi’s face was wrinkled with concern, and the Norwegian couldn’t help but smirk at how eager she was to please her.

Ingrid reached her hand out and calmly placed it on Mapi’s shoulder, “I’ll be fine with whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Mapi said with a frown. She was prepared to scour every shop in Oslo if it made the princess happy. Ingrid was probably used to lavish parties, and although Mapi knew she couldn’t compete, she could at least attempt to make the Norwegian feel more welcome.

“Yes,” Ingrid said firmly, “I don’t always need princess treatment.”

“But you deserve it,” Mapi protested with a pout. Ingrid sent her a warning glance, and the defender relented, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, I’ll stop. I’m sure my company will be enough anyway...”

“You’re certainly not lacking confidence,” Ingrid said with a chuckle, shaking her head affectionately. She didn’t doubt that she’d have a good time with Mapi; in fact, she was more worried about having too much of a good time and not wanting the Spaniard to leave.

Mapi pouted, “All I’m saying is make sure you wear your dancing shoes- I might even whip out my famous dance move if you’re lucky...”

“...or if you’re too drunk.” Ingrid retorted.

The defender opened her mouth in mock offence, “I’m a dedicated athlete- that's slander!”

The pair were both grinning like idiots, and Ingrid couldn’t believe quite how easily the conversation flowed. She rarely got to show her teasing side for fear of upsetting the wrong person, but it just felt so natural with Mapi.

Mapi nodded over Ingrid’s shoulder, “I think they’ve finished setting up the stage.”

Ingrid nodded gratefully, “I guess duty calls then- I'll see you tonight, Maria.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Regretfully, Ingrid walked over to the stage. She could’ve spent hours chatting with Mapi, but instead, she stood next to the Prime Minister and shook the Norwegian players’ hands before they collected their silver medals. The Spanish team was next, and Ingrid waited expectantly for Mapi, her forced smile turning into a real one when the defender was in front of her. Mapi was gone as soon as she arrived, and Ingrid watched as they lifted the trophy. It was a bittersweet moment for her country, but she knew that the pure fact that they reached the final would eventually be a positive, despite the pain they felt now.

She made a swift exit, complaining that she could feel a headache forming whenever someone tried to engage her in a conversation. Leaving the stadium, she waved at the crowds of fans until they disappeared, a fake smile plastered on her face. She retrieved her phone from her bag, noticing she had a new notification from an unknown number. It stated the address of a hotel in the centre of the city, combined with a GIF of someone dancing and another of someone staring longingly at alcohol. Ingrid didn’t need to ask who it was as she sent another GIF back, her one depicting someone holding their thumbs up. She added Mapi to her contacts and smiled in relief, before groaning and complaining that her head was killing her. From previous experiences, she knew that her bodyguards happily took the night off when she was ill, trusting her to stay inside.

Stepping out of the car in front of her apartment, Ingrid made sure to exaggerate a wince. “I think I’m going to go straight to bed- my head is killing me. There’s no point in you guys waiting around, so you can go home if you want.”

“Are you sure?” One of her bodyguards said, barely able to contain his excitement. Football matches were always a security nightmare, and they were both absolutely exhausted.

“Of course,” Ingrid said sweetly, feeling slightly guilty about deceiving them. She waved them goodbye and unlocked her apartment door, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally shut it. Despite her parents wanting her to live at the Palace, Ingrid craved more independence, so they compromised on a secure apartment in Oslo. She loved designing her own space, and it certainly helped to have less security when she wanted to sneak out.

She quickly showered and picked her outfit, pairing a black crop top with some jeans which she knew made her ass look fabulous. Settling herself in front of her dressing table, she tried to apply some makeup, but her hand was trembling so much that she nearly poked her eye out with her mascara wand. She quickly discarded that plan and grabbed a jacket, sneaking down the stairs and out of the back door. Although her bodyguards had left, there may be other members of the security team outside, and she didn’t want to run the risk of not reaching the party.

The night was chilly so Ingrid covertly hailed a taxi on the next street, giving the driver the address of the hotel. Thankfully they didn’t seem to recognise her, and Ingrid settled into her seat, her heart still thumping wildly. She had forgotten how it felt to have romantic feelings for someone, and although it would probably never amount to anything due to her status and Mapi’s busy life, Ingrid still felt oddly optimistic.

It was only a short journey and Ingrid paid the driver with cash, not wanting anyone to be able to trace her credit card. The hotel looked reasonably posh with a modern lobby and a four-star rating, and Ingrid hesitantly pushed open the pristine glass door, peering for any signs of any Spanish players. She sent Mapi a text to let her know that she had arrived and sat down on one of the armchairs in the corner, concealed by a large plant. She then turned her phone off so that it couldn’t be tracked and sat back, her knee bouncing nervously until she saw Mapi turn the corner and smile, beckoning the Norwegian over. Ingrid tried to confidently walk over to the defender despite the fact her legs felt like jelly; it was a good thing she had years of professional training to rely on.

Mapi was wearing a tank top and a pair of leather trousers, her hair loosely framing her face. Ingrid had only ever seen her with her hair in a bun, and although she had seen photos of wavy-haired Mapi, nothing quite prepared her for how it would look in the flesh.

“You came!” Mapi said excitedly. She briefly looked Ingrid up and down, a small smile playing on her lips. Ingrid couldn’t help but blush under her gaze, the Spaniard’s dark eyes finally returning to her face. “You look beautiful princesa.”

“ So do you,” Ingrid replied, her voice slightly lower than normal.

Mapi reached her arm out and Ingrid gladly took it, the mere feeling of their bare skins touching causing goosebumps. She didn’t have the heart to tell the defender that princesses didn’t need to be escorted anymore, not when Mapi looked so pleased with herself. Her wide smile was infectious, and Ingrid was so busy examining her freckle-dotted face that she failed to see the step straight in front of her.

“Watch where you’re going,” Mapi teased, steadying the Norwegian. Ingrid blushed and tried not to focus on how firm the defender’s forearm muscle felt, keeping her eyes on the floor for the rest of the walk.

They reached the end of the corridor and Mapi pulled open the door with a flourish, the sound of some Spanish pop immediately audible. Ingrid hesitantly entered the dark room, Mapi following close behind.

Ingrid could make out the shapes of people dancing, but she couldn’t decipher their faces, something that sent a wave of relief crashing through her. If she couldn’t recognise them, hopefully, she would be able to remain relatively anonymous and fully relax.

Mapi ushered her towards the drinks table and gestured proudly to a bottle of Aquavit, a popular drink in Norway. Ingrid felt her heart swelling with affection, her hard edges softening with the hopeful look in Mapi’s eyes.

She confidently reached forward and unscrewed the lid, pouring some into two shot glasses until the liquid reached the top. Passing one to Mapi, she raised her eyebrow, challenging the Spaniard to drink it. Mapi smiled wickedly and tipped her head back, her eyes widening as the spicy liquid slid down her throat. Ingrid smirked as the defender tried to stop herself from spluttering, her tattooed hand coming to cover her mouth. Ingrid expertly shot hers without a wince, victoriously slamming the glass back onto the table.

“Aye that’s not fair,” Mapi said after taking a generous swig of beer to soothe her throat. “You didn’t warn me it would be that bad!”

“You didn’t ask,” Ingrid said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Mapi pouted and Ingrid poured another shot, offering it to the Spaniard. Mapi shook her head vehemently, cradling her beer like a child. Ingrid took the shot and looked around the room, noticing that she and Mapi were the only two who weren’t dancing.

“You care to join me on the dancefloor?” Ingrid said uncertainly, her previous nervousness returning. Her childhood had been filled with ballroom lessons, but she had no idea how to dance to pop music. She worried her long limbs would be uncoordinated and she didn’t want to embarrass herself, especially in front of Mapi. The defender seemed like the type of person who could be good at anything without trying, or even if she wasn’t, she’d still look good doing it.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Ingrid grabbed Mapi’s hand and pulled her into the throng of people. They stood a respectable distance apart and Ingrid slowly started to sway her hips in time with the music, tipping her head back. When she looked back down Mapi was barely moving, her eyes fixed on Ingrid’s body. She was too far away to make out the expression in her eyes, but her mouth was slightly hanging open, which Ingrid took as a good sign. Boldly, she took a step forward and placed her arms on Mapi’s shoulders, looping her hands around the back of her neck. Mapi looked her up and down with a smirk, and normally Ingrid might’ve felt awkward, but it only spurred her on more.

She leaned her head forward and whispered into Mapi’s ear, “What, do you not know how to dance?”

Ingrid let her lips lightly brush the Spaniard’s cheek as she pulled away, and she felt Mapi tense slightly. She wondered if she may have taken it too far, but when she searched Mapi’s eyes for reassurance, she was met with something she could only describe as pure desire.

Her eyes were dark, and Ingrid had never felt more powerful. She had convinced Presidents to change their opinions, and sure she had solved the country's energy crisis, yet there was something about turning the confident footballer into a lustful wreck that made her feel on top of the world.

Mapi stepped closer so their chests brushed against each other, separated only by two flimsy pieces of fabric. She placed her hands on the small of Ingrid’s back and started moving in time with the music. Ingrid could feel Mapi’s hot breath on her neck, and she barely noticed the crowd around her; at that moment, it was just her and Mapi.

Just as Ingrid had believed, the defender was a talented dancer. Her nimble feet moved in time with the music, and every time she stepped forward her firm abdomen pressed against Ingrid’s hips, making it very hard for Ingrid to stop her mind from being infiltrated with dirty thoughts. She was no longer focused on her dancing ability, her mind wholly consumed with how hot Mapi looked pressed against her.

She slowly threaded her fingers through the defender’s hair and tugged lightly, angling Mapi’s head so they were facing each other. Mapi smiled shyly, her eyes still fired up with desire. She could smell Ingrid’s vanilla perfume, and having the princess’ collarbones mere millimetres away from her face was driving her crazy. Everything about Ingrid was perfect, from the soft skin on her back to her startling green eyes, and Mapi had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

Ingrid’s heart fluttered from nerves as she hesitantly lowered her head, her eyes never leaving Mapi’s. The Spaniard swallowed roughly and tilted her head upwards, able to feel Ingrid’s hot breath on her cheek. It felt like an eternity for Mapi, their lips tantalisingly close but not touching.

Finally, Ingrid closed the gap.

The Norwegian’s lips were soft and pillowy, and Mapi swore she had never felt anything so perfect. Their lips perfectly slotted together, moving in a slow rhythm that made Mapi feel weak at the knees. She pulled Ingrid closer but made no effort to deepen the kiss, wanting to let her dictate the pace. All her instincts screamed at her to use her tongue, but Ingrid seemed hesitant, and Mapi was still blissfully content to even have Ingrid’s lips against hers.

They eventually had to break for air and Mapi opened her eyes to be met with a smiling Ingrid, her lips slightly glistening. Mapi knew it was wrong to be this turned on by a simple kiss, and even though her mind was slightly clouded by lust, she was certain that no one was a better kisser than the princess.

The princess.

Mapi had just kissed a princess.

If Ingrid wasn’t still slightly tugging her hair, Mapi would have to pinch herself to make sure this was real. She had been fantasising about the Norwegian since their first meeting a year ago, and never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought Ingrid would be interested in her.

“You want to get out of here?” Ingrid whispered hoarsely into Mapi’s ear, “I’m not sure I can show you quite how hot you are with all these people around.”

Mapi smirked and nodded. She was worried that Ingrid didn’t want to take things further, but of course Ingrid was concerned about her privacy and what would happen if someone filmed them passionately kissing on the dancefloor. Ingrid led them out of the party, barging through the rest of the team to get to the door. Some of Mapi’s teammates stared at her questioningly, but the defender didn’t bother to respond, her eyes firmly focused on the blush forming on Ingrid’s chest. They only just made it out of the door before Ingrid pounced on Mapi, this time her tongue immediately probing at the Spaniard’s lips. The kiss was dizzying, and Mapi couldn’t believe she had gone her whole life without the Norwegian’s talented tongue wreaking havoc in her mouth. Ingrid kissed her like she was the last woman on earth, and Mapi had never been more painfully turned on.

“So,” Ingrid whispered, “your room or my apartment?”

Mapi bit her lip, her eyes widening at the prospect. Of course, she wanted to sleep with Ingrid, but she had never expected to have the princess outright asking her, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Your apartment princesa ,” Mapi said when she finally recovered, “I want to hear you scream my name without worrying about my teammates hearing.”

Ingrid nearly dragged a smirking Mapi down the corridor, with only one thing on her mind. She somehow managed to find a taxi, and the defender wasn’t sure how they managed to make it back to Ingrid’s apartment without ripping each other's clothes off. When they did finally get rid of the offending garments, Mapi quickly learned that Ingrid was not always a princesa; in fact, she was far from it.

[allicat0]

hi there! i absolutely loved ur other fan fic even tho i didn’t know the character. made my pussy throb. anywho 😊 just seeing if u are able to write a gojo x reader, perhaps him being older ( older brothers bsf, teacher, etc. ) i also would love to see some discreet public sexy time. ( classroom, movie theatre, pool… i love fucking hot tubs and pools…) thank you so much!😜✌️🎀

Our little secret

Ans: thank you so much for the support, and of course! I’m so excited to write my take on Gojo! Hope you like it!!

Summary: University au! You're working along side your thesis advisor Gojo in hopes to working closer to your ambitions for the future. But being a university student, costs are high and money is low. So to be able to keep up with your school you have a little gig on the side.

Content: MDNI, 18+, abaf reader, smut, forced proximity, dubcon, oral, penetrative sex, domination, degradation, praise, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, teacher/student relations, dominant Gojo, submissive reader

A/N: I apologize if not all of my historical information its 100% correct, I did do a little research for it to make as much sense as I could. I also apologize for any word vomited, grammar, or punctuation errors. I was up till 2am writing. but hope you enjoy!

You had been given the opportunity to have Satoru Gojo, head professor of the History department as your Thesis advisor. It was all still a little unreal to you, but you couldn't be more grateful. You have spent countless hours with one another, early mornings and late nights, doing your best to progress with your latest research proposal.  “The Villa of the Papyri” you said, placing your stack of papers down onto Gojos desk. “Now that surely is a pretty big project your-” He began to reply before you quickly cut him off “I understand it’s a lot, and that most of the contents inside got destroyed but there are over two thousand lost scrolls that reside inside that structure. There could be so many answers about the lost city of Herculaneum that those scrolls could contain!” Your look was genuine. . and so full of hope that he just couldn't say no. 

As weeks passed, you still had no leads. Weeks turned into, months, and months turned into a year, endlessly working alongside Gojo. Despite your research not flourishing as much as you had hoped, your relationship with your professor grew more than you expected. It didn’t feel like work, it was tolerable to be around eachother, it didn’t feel like he had some weird authority complex over you, you were comfortable, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself some feeling for your professor began to form and you wished nothing would come in between that. .until something did.

Being a university student, especially in the department you're in, funds are high and since you were usually busy researching all day, you had a hard time getting a stable job that worked around your harsh schedule. The school did pay you money to go through with this research but it was barely enough to buy you a loaf of bread and toilet paper. You needed money to survive and things were getting a little tight, so you thought working at your local club didn’t sound like a horrible idea. . as a dancer. 

Zafrio, is one of the more popular clubs in the area, but they worked well around your schedule, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week. The pay was beautiful, every penny you made on that stage was yours to keep, on top of that you also got your bi-weekly pay which 10% of it went through tip - out to the servers, but you weren’t complaining. On average you made at least four hundred dollars a night, but on good days you would rack up closer to a thousand. 

Tonight was your Saturday shift, the busier one out of the three. As you were getting ready backstage a familiar face walked into the club, the club was packed full of people, he made his way through the crowd, brushing past people shoulder to shoulder, getting closer to the main stage. Now he didn’t come here often but when he did, it was every Saturday at eleven, to see you and only you perform. He used having a large crowd to his advantage as he was often hidden, so you seeing him was never a concern of his. How he found out about your little side job was not intentional, he just happened to stumble into the club with some of his friends one night, and there you were working. Gojo was beyond intrigued, so ever since that day he’d been coming to watch you perform, he didn’t know why he came back, but all he knew was that he started thinking of you in ways he’d never dare think of before. 

Your stage name gets called and there you are, walking out onto the stage over to the pole, beginning your number for the whole club. Cheers filled your ears, watching the money fall onto the stage, the serotonin that pumped through your body was unbelievable and he watched, every. Last. second. His eyes never leaving you or your body. The way your hips sway to the music, it was like he was in a trance. 

As you finish your number your eyes fall out to the crowd, adjusting from the bright stage lights shining up at you. You start to strut off and out the corner of your eye, you see. . no it couldn’t be. What was he doing here?? Your heart rate began to pick up. What was your professor doing here?! You quickly rushed the rest of the off stage. Did he just see you perform? Your mind was rushing at a million miles a second. 

You arrived backstage and looked in the mirror, your mind began to spiral and your heart picked up its pace, that was totally him, there was no denying it. “Is everything alright?” one of your fellow dancers came over to see if you were okay as they noticed you were panicking. “Yah.  .yah i'm fine” you said to put your clothes on and packed all your belongings. “Something came up and I really need to go, please let the boss know I’m sorry.” You knew all of the money you got from that dance would be taken care of by your boss, and were quick to leave, walking out to your car and heading home. 

Monday finally rolled around and you were on your way to Gojos' office to start work. If it were any other day you would be eager to get back to work after a weekend break, but today wasn’t any other day. The events of Saturday night still loomed in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to admit it but you were scared to face Gojo, how were you supposed to just act normal after that night?!

You opened the door to the office and plastered a smile onto your face and there he was sitting at his desk. “Good morning professor.” you said, making your way into the room, closing the door behind you. “Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, his eyebrow slightly arching with the question. You felt a lump form in your throat forcing it down before speaking. “Ah, it was quite relaxing,” you said trying to cut the conversation. “I'm surprised, you spend your weekends working do you not?” his head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing and he knew you saw him that night. 

You froze in place for just a moment, “i'm not sure I know what you mean” Gojo looked at you right in your eyes, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. “I think you and I both know what I mean” your breath hitched, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this. You watched as Gojo sat up from his chair and made his way around his desk. Leaning against this chair and resting his ass against it he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well. . am I wrong?” This was it, your career was over, there was no way you would be able to recover from something like this, you knew the risks and yet you still took the chance, now look where it got you. 

You could feel yourself trying to choke but in the coming years, you were trying your best to keep yourself together. “Now you know there's no reason to lie to me. .” Gojo pushed himself off the desk and made his way towards you, your eyes never leaving him. He walked behind you, leaving your sight, but you could feel him looming over you. “Professor look, moneys been low and.” his hot breath suddenly hit against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His words were soft. 

Your shoulders tensed as he placed his hands on them “Is this okay? Can I touch you here?” Gojo let out softly once more, you simply nodded your head being speechless. His hands began travelling down stopping right at your hips. “You know. .I have a confession of my own. Ever since I found out about your secret endeavours. . I haven’t been able to stop going back. . I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.” He choked out, Gojo was doing his absolute best to keep himself at bay. 

“Really?” you said, sounding surprised, his words were making your stomach flutter. As much as you wanted to deny this as wrong and unprofessional there was a recurring curious thought that wanted to find out more, what exactly was he thinking. “The thought drives me crazy” the hold he had on your hips gets tighter, but you move away from his grip, turning around to face him. His eyes were drawing you in like never before, you couldn’t describe it, but his gaze was full of pure lust. 

You bit down on your lips, you were unsure what to do, act professional or. . no what were you thinking! “Darling,” Gojo said, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hands coming up and cupping your face, his thumb trailing softly against your cheek. “Gojo I. .” You stood there speechless. “This is unprofessional.” You try to centre your thoughts “I think we’re long past that.” he said his hand never leaving your cheek. His face leaned down his lips inches from yours “if you want me to stop then tell me, I want you to be okay with this” you looked up at him through your lashes nodding your head ever so slightly. “Please. .don’t stop” you let out quietly just enough for him to hear you. 

Next thing you know you felt Gojo’s lips press against yours, lips moulding with one another. His kiss was delicate, but carried so much passion and lust behind every movement. Your mind continued to spiral at every given minute, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted more. Gojo’s hands travelled down before taking your ass in his hands giving it a squeeze as he continued to kiss you. 

His tongue slipped past your lips and moved with yours, but it didn’t last long as he was quick to pull away to catch a breath. His head moved to your neck planting firm kisses against your neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breast in the process massaging them as he continued to place his markings down your neck. “You’re fucking gorgeous” his voice was breathy, against your skin.

Gojo guided you over to his desk, turning you around to your back facing him. His hands lingered at the hem of your pants, thinking for a moment before he pulled both your pants and underwear down revealing your slick pussy. Gojo went down onto his knees to get a better view, his hand trailing up and down pushing in between your folds, slowly sticking his middle and ring finger deep into your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. “What if someone hears us?” you asked nervously. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly watching how your pussy swallowed his fingers “let them” he said. 

The speed of his fingers began to pick up the pace causing soft moans to escape through the seam of your lips. Gojo pulled his fingers out of you, spreading your legs open enough to lodge his head in between your thighs, dragging his tongue against your pussy. As you lay there leaning over his desk, gasping for breath, Gojo tasted every inch of you, savouring the sweetness of your flesh, he knew exactly where to touch, how to caress, driving you further into the realm of ecstasy. Your hips would involuntarily push back into him as he lapped his tongue over your clit, exploring every curve and crevice, bringing you to the edge of climax. It was almost painful, the anticipation and desire building within you, but you wouldn't trade this exquisite torture for anything else. 

As you were nearing release Gojo pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat. His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock. “You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds. Gojo’s thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”. 

As Gojo continued to thrust deep into you, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge once again, the knot building up in your stomach from him constantly hitting your G-spot. Your free hand moved down in between your legs and moved rapidly against your clit. “ you gonna cum on my cock baby?” He asked you, smirking down at you, how he enjoyed the sight. You let out a moan as your legs do their best to hold themselves up through your orgasm, Gojo was close, you could feel his cock pulsating inside of you. His thrust was becoming sloppy and out of rhythm. With a few more thrusts he quickly pulled out of you, his hot cum hitting against your back “fuck” he said out of breath looking down at the mess he made, but god it was fucking hot.

His body pressed up against your own, planting a soft kiss against your shoulder. Moving the hair away from your neck and planting them slowly against your neck as well, he let out a light groan, the vibration of his hot breath against your skin made you shiver. “Let's get you cleaned up baby” Gojo said, going back to his cocky smug voice once again. “Oh and. .lets keep this our little secret alright?”

@allicat0 signing off. .

[outtoshatter]

This week's author spotlight: @hedwig221b!

Over 10k:

Take me Away From Here | E | 33k tags: nontraditional Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, historical, mpreg, angst & hurt/comfort, possessive Derek Summary: Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Full and Void | E | 23k tags: established relationship, canon divergence, void Stiles, dark Derek, captivity, gore Summary: Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence.

Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

Torn Apart and Set Anew | M | 18k tags: established relationship, omegaverse, werewolves are known, whump Stiles, stalking, murder Summary: “Someone’s here,” Stiles whispered, feeling weirdly numb.

The metal latch clicked. With ice filling his lungs and his fingers shaking terribly, Stiles swiveled his head in the direction of a window and froze for a beat of a second.

There was a face behind the glass.

Forgettable and plain, but at the same time familiar face.

Wait for me | M | 64k tags: Cursed Derek, Spark Stiles, mates, alcoholic Sheriff, angst & hurt/comfort Summary: “Stiles, we know about your Spark,” Scott looked at Stiles with desperate eyes, trying to convey something. “He is the Werewolf who's been chasing you. You must run. We’ll help you…”

Stiles stared at his friend, genuinely concerned for his sanity, because the nonsense he was sputtering was really fucking confusing.

The Rarest of Gems | E | 26k tags: mates, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending Summary: "There, somewhere, a flower grows. Its curious petals reach in curiosity, but get burned in return. It craves a soothing touch, a lover’s kiss. It is the sweetest nectar, the brightest moonlight, the most alluring starry night. It is the rarest of gems. It is your mate, alpha Hale. But beware and haste, for the flower grows among the most vicious thorns, who can’t wait to tear it apart."

Under 10k:

Devoured | E | 5k tags: Sex Deity Derek, virgin sacrifice Stiles, consensual somnophilia Summary: Breathless, Stiles shifted his gaze up and went red from the knowing smirk on the deific face. The man’s red eyes sparkled in the moonlight, glowing like two fires on the tips of the candles. One of his thick eyebrows was lifted in amusement.

He was the most beautiful being Stiles had ever seen. As was probably expected, considering he was the god of sexual desire.

Kiss it Better | T | 1k tags: fluff & hurt/comfort, established relationship, mpreg Summary: Eli was healthy, bubbly and happy most of the time, a perfect overly energetic and curious child, but sometimes he just gave Stiles this studying, almost suspicious long stare and pursed his little button nose, as if thinking very hard about something.

Today was one of those days.

Mountain to Hide Behind | T | 3k tags: established relationship/married, mpreg, implied cheating, no actual cheating Summary: “Did you honestly think Stiles wouldn’t notice your absence? He can’t even stomach his dinner, because he knows you’re busy fucking side-chicks as he does so.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

Right then, faced with the sentence he was too scared to even think of, Stiles realized he couldn’t take it anymore. At his first mortifying quiet sniff, Derek swerved around to look at him.

He looked horrified.

Safe | Not Rated | 974 tags: fix-it-fic, established relationship, magical Stiles Summary: “Where is he?” Stiles rumbled, glancing at each member of the pack in front of him, before settling his incinerating gaze on one person he once considered a brother. “Tell me, Scott, where is my husband?”

Fate is Not a Real Thing | E | 5k tags: werewolves are known, full shift wolves, witch Stiles, mates, angst with happy ending Summary: See, the nature was a nasty thing. Yes, Derek despised him, hated him, may be wished him dead sometimes, but he couldn’t fight the instincts. Sometimes it was hard for Stiles to remember that none of that was done out of Derek’s free will. His glares and frowns and his silence always put Stiles in his rightful place, though. He was a mistake and a joke. It hurt, very much so, because, even though Derek didn’t want anything to do with Stiles, he wanted everything with Derek.

Series:

The Happiest of All | 2 works | 57k total | complete some tags: mates, angst with happy ending, possessive Derek, true alpha Derek, spark Stiles, mpreg

Go check out hedwig221b's AO3 page, and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!