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fayeriess · 6 months

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⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ CHERRY FLAVOURED ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: when you and ellie started your situationship, you had one single request; a bag of cherries every time she showed up at your doorstep. unfortunately, you want more than that.

warnings: 18+, smut, angst at the end if you squint, mentions of weed, weed consumption, cunnilingus, kinda sorta dealer!ellie ( not all that relevent to the plot ), ellie's kind of a dick, womanzier!ellie, not proof-read

a/n: a repost because i deleted my old account on a whim ;)

The tips of your fingers were coated in crimson.

Red and sticky.

Warm wetness trickling down your palms' creases, spreading sugary stained streaks onto the heat of your velvet skin; something you grew indifferent to. It was always so messy — the plump fruit surrounded by the shelter of your mouth, sweet and addicting every single time. Even with a bad full, they were something you’d savor with every inch of your being, as they were too small to enjoy fully. There would be at least five seconds of flavor before you were left with a bitter taste on the surface of your tongue, a wine-red tint coating the lingual papillae to give you something to remember them by.

Your constant craving was satiated, alongside the need to see the person that brought them for you every Wednesday without fail. Three sharp knocks on the scuffed steel of your front door were the beginning of five months entwined in your sheets, sinking into the comfort of your mattress. The scent of cherry blossom and freshly washed linen stuck to you as if to taunt you whenever she’d leave in the middle of the night, love bites littered across the expanse of your chest, reaching the insides of your soul.

Just like those fucking cherries you were addicted to — you were addicted to her.

Ellie.

The girl stood at a measly five foot three. Kissed from head to toe with freckles that dotted her gentle skin in a multitude of clusters, eyes as green as the moss that’d grow in the crevices of your roof, and a seemingly unbearable attitude to those she rendered unworthy of her time and presence. You, unlike other people, got to experience two of those things from her simultaneously in the form of discarded clothes and rushed greedy touches.

The unwavering connection between you two was there from the moment she laid her irises on you in that hazy, smoke-filled basement last October at Ollie’s. A fat joint laced with bad intentions between the pink, plump flesh of her lips as she weighed the two options that arose. Either she could approach you, ask you for your name, and smooth talk her way into your heart till the pads of her fingers made it past the waistband of your underwear — or — she could keep still on that withering couch she sat on and smoke her head off.

And it was such an easy choice for her, that she mentally hit herself for even thinking of the latter.

That one, singular encounter changed the trajectory of her life, as dramatic as it sounded. The reason for that one was fairly simple.

You tasted too fucking good.

That was the only reason she found herself here. Her head between the fat of your thighs, warm breath hitting your cunt just like the many times before this one, hands squeezing the outside of your skin so hard you were sure they’d be marked for the next few hours.

“Ellie, c’mon.” You hissed through clenched teeth, jaw grinding in annoyance at the lack of attention you were receiving. She was right there. So fucking close to your core that all she had to do was dart her tongue out and the arousal that coated your slick would pour onto her tastebuds.

“You keep talking and I swear I’ll fucking leave.” She spat, narrowing her eyes at you, watching as you clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth.

Curling your lips into a frown, your elbows dug into the springs as you propped yourself up. “You wouldn’t.”

She rose an eyebrow, the skin of her forehead creasing slightly before she tightened her grip on your thighs, a twinge of interest sparkling in those dark eyes. “But I would.”

As she lazily drawled out those three words, her right hand snaked its way to your core. Her index finger slid through your folds with ease, a slight buck of your hips stopping them from moving any further.

You were soaked. It was as obvious as her favoritism toward you. Not just as one of her clients, but as the girl she occasionally fucked with no strings attached from time to time.

From the low lighting of the lamp on the corner of your nightstand, your slick glistened in the sliver of light that shone behind her head when she lowered it even further.

“You’re so fucking wet f’me, princess.”

The guttural whine that left your throat was animalistic. Something that sneakily blended in with the blood in your veins and tainted every healthy cell in your body, starting from the very back of your brain to the tips of your curling toes.

With your hands grasping the light green and pink polka dot sheets that decorated your bed, you took a sudden interest in drawing invisible patterns on the ceiling in your head, shuddering when the muscle of her tongue finally made contact with your clit.

“Oh — fuck!”

Giving you no chance to recover, she continued, flicking her tongue so harshly, that you were positive she’d have lockjaw by the end of the session.

“Always letting me fuck you so good.” She murmured against you, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked, taking every last drop of your wetness into her mouth as if she was being deprived of water.

Wednesday’s were your favorite day of the week thanks to her. It was as if she were an excessive amount of caffeine you desperately wanted as soon as your heavy lids opened. Except, she wasn’t black coffee, albeit the bitterness rooted deep within her. She was the bag of cherries that sat in your refrigerator, rationed throughout the week as a means to keep them longer.

At first, you thought of it as foolish to share yourself so intimately with someone you barely knew. To poke a finger into your chest and claw the flesh apart with your bare hands, bearing your entire soul.

She still didn’t know your favorite color. She still didn’t know your favorite book. Hell, she still didn’t even know if you preferred smoking joints or blunts.

But, what she did know was how to touch you. And that — that was just fine.

“Oh my god, right there.” You chanted in a hushed whisper, over and over until her hot hands had traveled from your thighs to your hipbones. Thumbs gently tracing circles over the skin there as she devoured you as if she were starved, nose nudging the top of your pussy.

It was only then that your phone vibrated atop the wood of your nightstand, shaking so violently, that it had shuffled a couple of inches.

“Ignore it.”

Ellie's gruff voice came from under you, lips detaching from your cunt to speak, the flesh there glistening with your juices before she dove in once more.

The buzz that sounded in your ears had dissipated. A small beat of silence took over before it began again.

With a sigh, you shuffled onto your elbows again, outstretching an arm to grab the device with straight fingers, unsuccessful in your attempt.

“What if I — shit,” The ridges of her teeth skimmed over your clit, causing your hips to buck into her face involuntarily. Your throat was dry from the deep inhales and exhales during this sexual encounter and she had only just started.

“What if it’s important?” The question came out of your lips in a breathy sigh, head growing hazy at her touch.

She hummed, “It can wait.”

It couldn’t because the moment those words were out in the air, it buzzed again.

“The fuck…”

Lifting herself from her position clad in nothing but boy shorts and a thin wife beater, Ellie crawled over you, her weight emitting a groan from the creaks in the springs within the mattress as she pressed her clothed chest flush against yours.

Without warning, her fingers flexed, snatching your phone from its spot before you the lids of your eyes could open back up again. You watched curiously as her mossy green eyes scanned the text on the screen, rolling them after as she pursed her lips into a thin line.

“Why’s Ollie calling you?” The question held a small hint of suspicion, and that was something you heard clearly despite her effort to hide it.

You were just fuck buddies. Nothing more than that. So why did your heart jump within your chest as if it were going to escape your body at any second?

Shaking your head from side to side, you tilted your chin at her, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “I dunno…”

“I’m gonna call back.” She stated, making her way to your contacts and scrolling through the alphabetical format, pressing on his name with a thumb.

Outstretching your arms, you huffed, exhaling dramatically as you gently shoved her off of you. Sitting up, you leaned against the bedframe, knees tucked close to your bare chest, goosebumps forming at the sudden cold rush of air that weaved its way around your frame.

The low hum became louder as Ellie held out your phone between the both of you, tight grip never faltering as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. She was staring at it harshly, her gaze practically burning holes into the device as it rang once, then twice before a ‘finally’ sounded in your ears.

“Fucking finally, where the fuck is Ellie?”

Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “Well hello to you too Ollie.”

“Yeah, yeah, hey. Where’s Ellie?”

“What makes you think I'm with her?”

“Because her location is pinpointed to your house. Am I on speaker?”

Licking your lips as a means to moisturize them, you cocked your neck to the side, raising a brow at Ellie who sighed. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

Crackling static could be heard on the other end of the line, followed by shuffling and a female voice that sounded all too familiar to you.

“Uh, I kinda need to buy off of you again.”

Ellie looked around your room for a while, taking in the different array of patterns that decorated each article of furniture that gave away a whole lot more than your personality. For a second, Ollie’s talking seemed to grow muffled, as she marked every place in that small space that she fucked you on.

It was something that had etched itself in the inner corners of her mind as she struggled to come to terms with what exactly she felt every time she got down on her knees. For you.

Every. Single. Time.

Sometimes, she’d lay awake at night, curled up under the sheets, wearing exactly what she is right now — sitting here with you. Being intimate — with you. Sure, she sold her weed and made her money, accompanied by a stone-faced facade, but handing drugs to girls who’d let their hands linger a little too long on her skin, always sent her back to you at the end of the night with a plastic Tupperware container filled halfway with those cherries only sold downtown.

Clearing the rising lump in her throat, the auburn-haired girl tugged her bottom lip between her teeth soon after. “Sure. Do you need me right now?”

Ollie laughed humorously as if Ellie had said one of the funniest things in the world, and you had assumed it directly wasn’t aimed toward her due to the high-pitched yell. “If that’s cool with you.”

Observing as Ellie lifted herself from her position next to you, your eyes followed as she leaned down at the end of the bed to tug on the jeans she had previously discarded in the heated haze of your earlier makeout session.

Tossing the phone on the bed, Ellie focused her attention on buttoning her jeans, the worn band tee she showed up in following immediately after.

“C’mon.”

A puzzled look painted your features, the corners of your eyes creasing as you narrowed your eyes at her figure near the door.

“I’m not going to Ollie’s alone. His girlfriend’s weird.”

You grimaced.

“Are you seriously dragging me with you?”

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

Ollie’s girlfriend, Penelope, wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows as he made her seem. It was something that should’ve been obvious to you from the beginning due to how highly he talked about her, albeit being dramatic at the same time. But since he was sort of a friend, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The first time you met her, the brunette immediately started talking your ear off about how the color of your shirt wasn’t really appealing to the eyes, index finger twirling a strand of her hair as she tried to make up for the comment with back-handed compliments.

She was something… and that was to put it in the nicest way you could, cementing it into your brain that she just didn’t like you.

Internally, you were cursing Ollie out. Externally, you held it together better than you thought you would as she ranted to you about one of her many friends with a lit joint in hand, waving it back and forth.

You were sat directly across from her, muscles tense and spine rigid on an ottoman, one leg crossed over the other, lips pulled back into a small snarl that she hadn’t noticed. The cool outside air did little to relax your body as the unease that overtook you moments ago, seemed to spread quicker than you thought it would.

“ — I told her that she shorted me like twelve dollars. I mean I was valid in that, right? The tag was missing off the skirt.” Extending her arm out to you, she wiggled the blunt between two fingers for you to take, which you did a little too enthusiastically.

Putting it between your lips, you inhaled, closing your eyes for a second as the smoke wafted into your line of vision. Nodding, you decided to play along with her, not in the mood to piss her off just yet. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t wanna pay the full price either.”

Peeling your gaze away from Penelope, you watched as the smoke you exhaled swirled in different directions, lifting into the multi-colored sky. You needed this.

“I knew I liked you. But, you don’t have to lie to me y’know, I was just fucking with you about the skirt thing. I would never buy a skirt without a tag.”

Feeling warmth rise under the flesh that covered the apples of your cheeks, you shook your leg, scanning the patio deck for any sign of Ellie who had disappeared inside the house with Ollie for what seemed like too long.

Penelope leaned back in her seat, cautiously letting her brown eyes roam down your stiff body, narrowing them after. “So, like are you and Ellie a thing?”

Taking another drag, you held it out for her to take, eying her from your peripheral inconspicuously the moment she took her eyes off of you. “No.”

The answer that was processed in her mind was short, and in response, she clicked her tongue on the roof of her smoke-filled mouth. She was unsatisfied with your answer. “You gotta give me more than that.”

Her voice went an octave lower as she leaned toward you, ready for you to spill all of your darkest secrets to her. “There’s nothing else to give.” You spat, eliciting a hum from her.

“I don’t think that’s it. Ollie tells me that you two just fuck.”

Furrowing your brows, you let genuine confusion write itself on your features as you crossed your arms, curling into yourself the more she spoke.

It was then that she sighed, taking another hit before extending it out to you. “Listen, I didn’t mean to say it like that… it’s just the way she talks about you is just…”

A twinge of curiosity sparked within you as she searched the jumbling words in her brain, sorting them in a way to soften the upcoming blow. “... it rubs me the wrong way like you’re just there to convenience her or some shit.”

“What?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs, and hairs on your arms raised, creating an itch all over that you wanted to scratch more than anything.

“Listen, I know you don’t think I don’t like you.”

“I-”

“You deserve something better than just sneaking around with someone like her. Her history with other women is fucked up, girl. Be careful.”

With that, she directed her attention toward the patio door, watching as it slid open.

Someone like her. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Those words were all that hit you when Ellie rubbed your left shoulder, telling you that it was time to go. They consumed you when you had buckled yourself up in the passenger seat of her car. They ate you when the tears in your eyes started to burn as you leaned your forehead against the window.

The drive was a little too quiet, and Ellie had been slyly giving you little looks throughout the trip, internally arguing with herself to ask about your sudden change of mood.

“What’s w —”

“Am I just someone you like to fuck every week?”

The question had caught her so off guard that her foot had nearly lifted off the gas and slammed on the break as she swerved slightly. Twisting her neck in your direction, she let her eyebrows furrow together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Closing your eyes, you swiped at a fallen tear swiftly with the back of your hand, wiping it on the denim of your jeans after. “Now that I actually fucking think about it, we don’t do anything other than screw each other.”

It was something you had meant to say to yourself, rather than aloud, but on the quietness of the car — even under the low hum of the music playing from the car radio, she heard every single word.

“Where’s this coming from?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept your head forward, noting the street you were on when she had turned into a familiar neighborhood about three minutes away from your destination.

“I’m just saying.”

Ellie scoffed, not believing a single word that bitterly came out of your mouth. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t even have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes as far back as they could go as she pulled into your driveway. “What’d she say to you.”

Fuck.

“She didn’t say anything.” You insisted, moving to tug the door handle open. Right before you could, she pressed down on the lock button, trapping you inside the car with her.

“I know she said something to you. You were all smiley when we got there, now you’re crying.” Pressing the matter even further, she twisted her body as much as the driver's side allowed, giving you all her undivided attention.

Still refusing to look at her, you breathed in through your nose. “Ellie, I want you to be serious with me for a minute, please. All we do is hook up with each other. That’s not something that I find myself needing anymore now that I'm actually putting my brain to use.”

Your eyes darted across her face, watching when her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose — something she did while irritated. You wanted her to be truthful, and it was something she had a slight problem with as she sat there, a knot of unease developing within her empty stomach so tightly, that her body grew numb. “You’re making it more complicated than it has to be. I thought we made shit clear from the beginning that this was all it ever was gonna be.”

You scoffed, grinding your teeth together as the pressure behind your eyes burned once more. You shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t have said a fucking word.

From the minute she approached you with that fucking toothy grin on her lips — you shouldn’t have said a word because look at you now.

Crying for someone who clearly doesn’t want you back.

“I just took it too far.”

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou part 2 #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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cyborg-franky · 3 months

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Sitting with them in silence just for company

Law x GN Reader Zoro x GN Reader SFW

You knew where to find him, every night the Tang was above water, settled near an island he would spend his evenings outside, staring across the ocean, trapped in thoughts as deep as the sea and just as turbulent as the storms that rolled in.

Pushing the big metal door, it groaned and alerted the captain of your presence, Law didn't say anything, simply watching you make your way over on unsure feet. The ocean was calm tonight but the gentle rocking still made you unsure of your balance, used to being in the belly of the sub or on dry land.

“Is it okay if I come out here? I can’t sleep and I just wanted to get some air,” you explained and he nodded. “Sure,” it might have sounded noncommittal to people who didn’t know him but that was near enough an enthusiastic ‘that’s fine’ as you’d get from Law.

You joined him, sitting down, legs hanging off the side, arms hugging a rail to make sure you didn’t slip and fall. Honestly, the cold metal against your flushed skin felt like heaven compared to the stuffy heat from inside.

The water gently sloshing against the side of the sub sounded nice. You liked spending time with Law like this, neither of you needed to waste time and effort striking up a conversation, just settled in the same calmness as you processed your thoughts.

You sighed, hands in your pockets as you stared at the sky, watching the stars twinkle in the heavens above as the waves gently rocked the ship. The night was perfect. Calm waves gently guided you across the ocean, watched by the moon and stars. A warm breeze filled the sails, ushering the Thousand Sunny to its next destination, another adventure.

The pleasantness of the evening felt wasted, you were bored and alone, and everyone already retired for the night. Save for the swordsman on watch duty, you looked up at the Crowsnest and frowned in thought, would he be happy to see you? Would he want time to himself?

You tapped your foot, fighting with yourself and weighing up your options. Sleep wasn't your friend tonight and you craved the company of your nakama. You clicked your tongue, annoyed at your hesitation when your lonely heart knew exactly what it wanted.

Climbing up to the crows nest and popping open the hatch you saw Zoro mid drink of a large bottle of beer. He stared at you with his brows raised before he took a swig of his drink. “Can’t sleep?”

You shook your head and clambered up, shutting the hatch behind you and sitting down next to him, leaning against the side of the nest and taking a breath of the salty sea breeze, tinged now with the booze Zoro was partaking in.

Neither of you said anything else, Zoro knew you had issues with sleeping, he didn’t need to pry, your thoughts were yours unless you wanted to share them. He just moved closer, also leaning back with you.

Wordlessly he offered you a sip of beer and you shook your head, he shrugged and gulped down more. Both of you just relaxed in one another's company in a comforting silence.

Two souls swayed gently on the waves of adventure.

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dinogoofymutated · 11 days

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Hi! so far I've loved everything you've written about Kurt, Logan and Remy. 🧎🏻‍♀️

Could you write something about Kurt? where together with reader they are in the kitchen of the mansion because they can't sleep, and she finally tells him her concerns about the magnitude of her powers and Kurt with his heart of gold tells her beautiful things to calm her down and make her laugh, the rest to your imagination, I would appreciate it, you write great! Thanks 💙✨

SFW! Nightcrawler/Fem!Reader

Ok so I will admit that I made this a leeetle self indulgent. I was trying to think of a power someone could really struggle with and a fun one that I thought of was having necromancy, but having such respect for life and death that it feels wrong. I thought it would fit well with a Kurt fic because it's something that almost feels sacrilegious, and it's good to have a fuzzy blue elf assure you that you aren't a monster :) I know its def not power ambiguous, but I hope this is okay :)

Also, I know my writing style is a little different in this one, And thats because the first few paragraphs set the tone for my writing when I start and tbh I think this one just flowed from my soul to they keyboard.

TWs: nightmares, necromancy, gross descriptions of rotting flesh. Extreme self-doubt and self-consciousness. Basically angst with a happy ending.

You’ve been having nightmares again. They hardly seem to stop, but after a break in between the terror, you'd become too relaxed. Too comfortable. You felt defenseless when they started to begin again.

It’s always the same dream, different font. Bones cracking, flesh ripping as it’s forced into place, natural or not. Skin rotting off of once human bodies, sockets where eyes used to be. It was horrifying. You’d see your family, friends, acquaintances, everyone. Dead. Brought back to life by your power, the power you were still so afraid of. You were always afraid of zombie movies as a kid. Anything rising from the dead, anything breathed back to life in some sick and twisted fantasy. It was ironic that your very own strength was the thing you had always been the most afraid of.

Of course, as you aged and the professor took you in, the fear began to wear off. Mostly, it did. The professor not only taught you how to control your powers but also how to work around your fear. You can remember the confusion you felt when he had set a box of ancient bones in front of you. Fragments of titans, dinosaurs who had long since passed. Bones that would never be matched to an accurate set, parts of them being crushed to dust by the cruelty of time. Bones that only you could breathe to life, to bring them together as a whole again. It was convenient, the professor had told you, that you only needed a fragment to do so. He spoke as if it were a service to them. Most importantly, he brought you a box of bones that weren’t, and never had been, human.

He had taken the fear out of your power. Given you an option you had never considered before. Bones without flesh, without living family. Fossils that would serve you as you were serving them. You were… happy, with that. You were content. You could handle bones. You could revive these ancient skeletons without fear, and fight with them without worry. That didn’t change the horror of knowing the capacity your powers had.

So the nightmares remained, and your sleep had become sparse.

This particular night you were restless. Unable to sleep despite how tired you have been, but it’s hard to rest when there is only terror waiting behind your eyelids. After a while, you decide to give up trying.

The path to the kitchen is one you have memorized, even in the dark. You’ve always been told never to eat sugar before bed, but the only thing you want to comfort you at this moment is hot chocolate- so screw it.

You try your best to be quiet while fishing out a pot out of the cabinets. The stove makes a click as you flick it on, filling the pot with milk before stirring it as it warms. The automatic task is comforting, falling into a routine you enjoy. You’ve just added the coco mix when the sound of a *Bamph* greets you.

“Guten abend.” Kurt whispers, walking over to stand beside you. You give him a tired smile that he returns with a yawn.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” You say, face returning to a frown Kurt thinks you wear far too often. Maybe it’s good that he’s here because you realize you made far too much of the sweet drink than you had meant to. You get a mug for him, heart fluttering as his hand brushes your own when he takes it from you, thanking you quietly.

“You did not wake me, Schatz. I promise.” Kurt says, pulling out a chair for you with his tail as he sits at the table. You nod silently, placing the pot in the sink and filling it with water before you join him, leaning against his shoulder.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Kurt asks after a moment. His brows are furrowed in concern, and you fail to stop him before he takes a sip from the scalding coco, burning his tongue. He scrunches his nose as he sticks out his tongue, making you giggle for a moment. He thinks your laugh suits you much more than your frown, even if it happens to be at his expense. Your face falls slightly anyway, and he wonders if he could get you to laugh if he did it all over again.

“...No. Not tonight.” The words come out as less than a whisper, and you doubt he might hear it if it weren’t the middle of the night. Little did you know he’d block the world out if he had to, just to hear you speak a little clearer. He hums in response, and you feel his tail slowly wrap snugly around your waist, the very tip idly stroking you in a comforting manner.

“...Do you wish to speak about them?” Kurt asks after a moment. You huff slightly, feeling the hot steam from your mug warm your face as you do so. Still too hot, you think to yourself. Flashes of those horrid nightmares come to mind, and no matter how quickly you try to shake them off, they remain. You choose to think of Kurt instead. Sweet, kind, comforting Kurt. You want to bury yourself in his arms, sink into the feeling of his skin, and never let go, if only he would let you. He would without a second thought, if only you had known. You think carefully about your next words, and the visions of flesh and corpses hardly leave you.

“Am I a monster, Kurt?” You hear a quiet, cut-off gasp from Kurt, and he turns to you. His face is pained, and he sets his mug down to place his hand around your own, still clasped around the hot cocoa.

“Of course not. Only a fool would think so.” His words, although comforting, only leave you with a worse sting in your heart. You can’t hold eye contact with him, staring at the reflection in your mug instead. Only a fool would think so. You halfway wonder if you count as a fool, then.

“Liebling.” You let out a sob at the sound of his voice. Kurt is hunched over, pressing his forehead against your own as he desperately tries to catch your gaze- but you can’t. You can't bear it, and you close your eyes tightly. Kurt takes the mug from your hands. He cups your face as he wipes your tears, and you feel like even more of a monster as he does so. Sobbing as a man with a heart of gold wipes your tears away with love and care.

“I, just… My powers, what I do. What I am capable of doing. It’s not right.” You take a shaky breath in, desperately trying not to break down here and now. “It’s disgusting. It’s horrible. Every time I find myself comfortable with myself I am reminded of what is possible and I spiral. I don’t want it. I don’t-”

“Please, look at me,” Kurt whispers. You try to stop the tears, embarrassed as you fall apart in front of the man you hold so dearly, but it’s hard. It’s so hard. Your chest stings, your throat is sore, you’re sure your nose is running, and yet he still holds you so gently. When your breathing evens out just a bit, you convince yourself to open your eyes again.

Kurt’s gaze is simply concerned. There is no horror, no disgust, nothing but worry for you. Nothing but kindness. You wonder if you could be even half as good as he is.

“You are good. You are kind. You are strong enough to stand by your morals despite the nature of your powers telling you otherwise- and you have the strength to continue to use them and fight your fears anyway. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. Do not let your nightmares tell you otherwise.” Kurt’s hold is steady against your cheeks, and your own shaky hands reach up to hold onto his wrists. You sob again as he speaks. You know. You know this. Others have told you, but these words all felt like lies. All but the ones you’re hearing from his mouth. Your tears are slowing, and Kurt leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, leaving the skin tingling. You whisper quiet apologies for crying, and he shushes each one, gently wiping your face with the soft sleeve of his pajama shirt.

“I would not be here if I didn’t want to care for you, my love,” Kurt says softly. Your eyes widen, taken aback by his words. He called you many things. Liebling. Schatz. Love. But never my love. The words waken butterflies in your belly, and Kurt takes a moment to realize what he’s said. He swallows nervously, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The two of you are treading a line that you both desperately want to cross.

Kurt is the first to lean in. He does so slowly, toeing the line between you. His gaze remains on your own as he closes the space, nose nuzzling against your own as he gives you the time to back out if you wish. But you don’t. You want nothing more than to have what he is so freely giving.

Kurt kisses you softly, lovingly, and for once the horrors have quieted and are cleared from your mind. All there is now is Kurt, and his soft love. He kisses you a second time before he pulls away, still as close to you as he can be without falling out of his chair. You wonder how he can see beauty where all you see is terror. He wonders if you have any clue just how much of a good person you continue to be.

He knows he would gladly spend the rest of his life showing you.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner headcannons #nightcrawler headcannons #nightcrawler x reader #xmen nightcrawler #nightcrawler

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addisonnie · 1 year

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hinge and uhaul

summary: college!au. when all else fails…one must look for love on hinge!

an: hi! back from hiatus and of course it would be for a clump of pixels because i am down astronomically bad! this is the first part of a possible series! so let me know if a part 2 is warranted.

warnings: cursing, reader has 0 rizz shes literally a mess, reader also rambles and lots of this is just her inner dialogue because why not. also not very edited and possible tense shifts because im the worst!

part 2 ———————————

Tinder is a soul-sucking vortex.

A nightmarish flurry of shirtless mirror selfies, conservatives, and men that look like they’d hit on your mom after walking you to the door. Switching your profile settings from ‘men’ to ‘everyone’ seemed like the best option; It wasn’t. The best option would’ve been to delete your account and light your phone on fire after receiving the fourth “you send?” message in a row.

Hinge is a smaller soul-sucking vortex. At least you can deny their comments before you embarrass yourself by matching with a douche like that. Your account is set to ‘show me everyone’ and you can only hope that ‘everyone’ includes at least some good ones. Swiping and clicking on dating apps seems to be more of a game than it is actual match-making, a time-passer of sorts.

Your roommate, Dina, huffs loudly from her lofted bed across the room, “would you get your sorry ass off of that app? It’s sad listening to you moan and groan about all the losers!”

You roll your eyes, “my soulmate could be the next person!”

No. No. No, again. Oooh…yes?

You swipe through the girl’s page before deciding not to match with her, because who’s Hinge bio states that they’re still in love with their ex? Dina cheers while you huff and slam your phone onto your desk, spinning idly in your chair. The television on top of Dina’s purple mini fridge is playing a random episode of Bob’s Burgers and, for a moment, you forget about your ever-growing dating app addiction.

It’s not that you’re addicted per say. You just spend most of your downtime sitting in your bed and judging people’s profiles, when yours surely isn’t up to par either. Hey, at least you don’t have a picture of you holding a fish.

The rhythmic buzz of your phone quickly draws your eyes away from the cartoon on screen, your hand dramatically reaching for your phone.

Hinge: Ellie liked you! Tap to see the comment she left.

Ellie. That’s a cute name…fairly normal too! Surely she didn’t leave some weirdo comment about how your hair looks like it smells good. Your fingers fumble to tap on the notification and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you click on Ellie’s like.

She left her comment under a picture of you taken at a local museum. A big cheesy grin is painted across your face and there’s skeletal remains of some random dinosaur behind you, Dina is crouched under the jaw of the creature pretending to scream while she gets eaten. Hopefully this isn’t one of those situations where Ellie asks ‘if your friend is single.’

Nope. She left a simple comment. I love dinosaurs!!!

You smile as you quickly click on Ellie’s profile to see her. There are a couple pictures of her, and good god is she hot. Flushed, you quickly match with her.

But what do you say? This is life or death. You need this woman.

Hey!

You’re hot

Do you want to have vicious lesbian sex with me?

Okay. Jesus, you are not good at this. While you mull over the keyboard attempting to decide what to say to the ever-attractive Ellie, another message comes in.

Hey, pretty girl!

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Your fingers are fumbling over the keyboard, your heart is beating, you’re planning you and Ellie’s wedding. You wonder if she likes lace or prefers the classic look?

Hey! What’s up?

Nothing really. Just playing some guitar!

Guitar? She just gets hotter. Did she also save puppies from a burning building? You wonder if she would want roses at the wedding. Hopefully not, too basic.

Ooooh guitar you say? Whatcha playing?

It’s a few moments before she responds and you’re biting the nail on your thumb awaiting her reply.

Whatever your favorite song is.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you smile and rest your head in your hand.

Why don’t I tell you that over dinner?

It takes Ellie a few minutes to respond this time and you’re sure you’ve managed to scare her off at the mention of an actual date. Her reply comes just as you go to turn your phone off,

How about you give me your number and we can talk more about this date?

————

Giving your number to Ellie was perhaps the best decision made in your life thus far. She constantly sends text messages of whatever she’s doing, wearing, eating, or strumming on her guitar. It’s been about a week since you first exchanged information and you’re slightly worried that Ellie no longer wishes to go out on a date. You’ve tried to ‘accidentally’ bump into her on campus multiple times, but she manages to just barely slip away each time.

You’re sitting at your desk attempting to finish an essay when your phone rings in your lap. Ellie’s contact appears lit up on the screen and you just about scream when you grasp the phone between your fingers.

“Hello?” You’re already blushing.

“Hey, you! What’re you up to?” Ellie’s voice is loud into the microphone and you can make out multiple different voices on her end of the line.

“Nothing important,” you close your computer quickly, “why, what’s up?”

She takes a moment to answer as you hear her yell something to whoever else is in the room with her, “me and some friends are at a bar…will you come? Live music and stuff. Plus, I still haven’t taken you on that date!”

“Yes!” Okay, you probably should’ve tried to sound less excited. “Ehem…yes. Text me the address?”

You hear Ellie laugh before she happily responds, “will do! Text me when you get here and I’ll come out front to meet you.”

—————

Dina and her friends surely shop at Hookers R Us because where else would anybody find a skirt so goddamn short.

“D. Dina. My cheeks are hanging out the bottom.” Dina rolls her eyes and tugs on the hem of the mini denim skirt.

“Well if you wore it down here,” she tugs the denim again, “instead of up to your tits like a grandma would…maybe it would be longer.”

Several shirts are thrown toward your perch on Dina’s desk chair, “what’s wrong with the shirt I have on?”

Dina’s boyfriend. Jesse, interjects, “because I don’t like it.”

“Okay, fashion police. How about this one?” You hold up a form fitting black top and Dina nods vigorously, “yes. But no bra. Show off them ladies!”

————

The Uber barely comes to a full stop as you clamber out of the backseat. Grasping for your phone, you text Ellie.

Here! :)

Was the smiley face overkill? Too much?

Cominh!!!!!

*Coming. Not drunk, I swear.

You think you’re the one doing the coming as you watch Ellie stroll towards you in the parking lot. If she was hot on Hinge, she’s ten-thousand times hotter in the dingy lighting that casts a magical glow upon her. She’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a white wife-beater, an old worn out flannel is unbuttoned over the top and rolled up just above her elbows. Her raggedy jeans are cuffed to the top of her converse and— wow is she a walking wet dream.

“Hey! I’m glad you came.” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she pulls you straight in for a hug, her calloused hands resting on your hips. You feel her finger tips touching the uncovered skin below your top, the contact makes you shiver.

Ellie squeezes you a little tighter before pulling away, leaving her arm draped over your shoulder, “c’mon, warmer inside.”

You let her lead you into the bar and through the slight crowd congregated near the entrance. A small group of people stand huddled next to the bar and Ellie leads you straight to them as she leans down to speak in your ear, “those are my friends.”

You nod and shamelessly nudge your body to be tucked further into her side, blushing profusely when you feel her arm tighten around your shoulders.

“Guys, this is the girl I was telling you about! And these are my friends I mentioned on the phone.” Ellie smiles while she introduces you to everyone and as much as you enjoy the domesticity of hanging out with her friends, you much prefer the nook you’ve found nestled under Ellie’s toned arm.

———

Her face leans down by your ear again, “wanna drink? I’ll get you one.”

You smile up at her, “would you shoot me if I said I want an espresso martini instead of the beer you’ve been nursing all night?”

She giggles into your ear and her breath fans across your face, “one espresso martini, coming up!”

She pulls away and salutes you before turning around and marching to the other end of the bar, waving her arm to grab the bartender’s attention.

“So you’re the lucky lady? I’m Abby, Ellie’s friend.” Damn, she is buff as hell. Her toned arm stretches across a barstool to shake your hand.

You stare at her open palm, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that. Who still shakes hands? I’m done drinking for the night.”

She cracks a smile when you laugh and shake her hand anyways, “nothing wrong with a good ol’ handshake.”

You speak with Abby while you wait for Ellie to return with your martini. She’s leaning up against the wood and speaking to the bartender as he pours the concoction into a glass. How she manages to look so appealing at all times is an enigma. Her short hair is pulled half-up into a bun while the rest barely skims the top of her shoulders, the botanical tattoo on her forearm sticks out from under her rolled-up sleeve and—fuck. You’re drooling.

Double-fuck. She caught you staring.

You blush when she throws a wink your way, turning back toward the bar to grab your drink.

And then she’s in front of you once more, “malady.”

She slides in between your legs while you sit atop the cushioned barstool (which you’re pretty sure makes a fart noise any time you move) and rests both of her hands on your hips.

Lifting the drink to your mouth, you hum happily when the flavor covers your tongue, “good?”

“Really good. Superb.” Ellie chuckles and leans in toward you, placing a kiss in the hollow of your collarbone, “c’mon, there’s some more people I want you to meet.”

————

You’re not exactly sure how you ended up in this position but good god do you wish you could die right here and right now. Ellie is leaning up against the poster-covered wall of the bar with you pulled tightly to her chest. Your back is pressed against her front and one of her arms is wrapped around you, long fingers splayed across your lower stomach. She’s talking animatedly to the guy standing in front of you two and in all honestly you can’t focus on what they’re talking about while you feel the tips of Ellie’s fingers rest upon the skin under your skirt.

It’s innocent. She doesn’t realize her fingers have traveled just south of the top of your skirt, but you’d be lying if you said the feeling of her calloused fingertips below the belt didn’t make you squirm. Her auburn hair tickles the side of your face as your head rests back in the crook between her neck and shoulder. And even better—her cheek presses to the top of your head when there’s a lull in her current conversation.

Hearing the man she was speaking to bid his goodbyes, you turn in her arms. The one that was previously grasping a beer bottle quickly swaps to rest in the back pocket of your skirt instead, her other hand squeezes your hip.

“Hi.” She smiles at you.

“Hi.” You press a kiss to her cheek.

The feeling leaves Ellie warm and she squeezes you a few times before ultimately deciding to cut to the chase and lean in. It’s a sweet peck, a little tipsy kiss that leaves you buzzing and floating outside of your body. The bright, crooked smile she gives you after pulling away punches the air from your lungs and Jesus Christ— now you understand the U-Haul lesbians because in this moment you are well and truly fucked. If this woman, this stranger, asked you to pack your shit and move in, you would.

And the look she gives you as she brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear tells you she might just feel the same.

#here she is #i told u #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou #tlou part 2 #the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader

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dancingtotuyo · 26 days

Text

Sage (Marcus Pike Drabble)

Rating: PG

Summary: You and Marcus can't agree on anything.

Tags/Warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol

Notes: The challenge: write a drabble in 30ish minutes with the assigned Pedro boy for the prompt "finally, something we can agree on." Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the lovely dividers! No beta we die like my soul working 40+ hours a week.

Words: 452

Author Master List | Marcus Pike Master List | Daily Clicks for Palestine

“We should go out sometime,” Marcus says, a charming smile painted on his face as he leans against your desk.

You move your eyes up toward him and then pull them back to the case file in front of you. “No.”

“It’ll be fun. I know this great Mexican place just around the corner-”

“I don’t date coworkers, Marcus.” You look through the case file like it’s the most riveting piece of literature you’ve ever read.

“Oh, Bob was gonna come too.” He points to the desk right behind you.

You spin around and Bob waves at you with a smile. Marcus returns the gesture to your coworker. “See you at 7? I’ll text you the address.”

He’s gone before you can protest.

You laugh at something Marcus says as you finish off your margarita. Bob left an hour ago, but you and Marcus haven’t moved. They kick you out at closing.

“Wanna come to mine? It’s just around the corner.”

“I told you I don’t-”

“Who said anything about a date?”

“You told your mom about me?”

“No.” Marcus scratches the back of his neck.

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Not intentionally,” He says weakly. “She really wants to meet you.”

“No,” You say as Marcus’s doorbell rings.

“You want Pizza or Chicken for dinner?”

“Pasta.” You bite back a smile.

Marcus looks at you with a half-annoyed look.

“I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just think you do. I have that effect on people.”

“You’re just being difficult.

Marcus burrows his head into the crook of your neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin. Your legs stretch out under the covers as you blink away the sleep haze.

“Good morning.” His voice is soft and husky.

“Good morning.” You smile.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Never a good thing.”

“Why don’t you move in with me?”

“I like having my own space.”

“You can have the spare bedroom.”

“Beige or charcoal?” Marcus asks.

“Sage.”

“That wasn’t an option.”

“It’s a better one.”

“Silver or gold?’

“You should know the answer to that.”

“Humor me.”

“Figure it out, Mr. FBI.”

“Marry me?” He’s on his knee in front of you, a diamond ring set in the correct metal in a velvet box.

You’re wide-eyed, not expecting it tonight. He’s looking at you with nothing but big heart eyes and a hopeful smile. It makes your heart melt. This is your man. He’s all yours. Your Marcus.

“Yes,” It falls from your lips as you meet him on the ground, pressing your lips to his. He laughs, arms wrapping around your waist

“Had me worried you were gonna fight me on this too,” he teases.

“Shut up.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfiction #pedro stories #pedrostories #drabble

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sugar-plum-writer · 3 months

Text

"Jujutsu Lover~ OTOME GAME"

System: 002 [Part - 01]

Loading 99%----> 100%!

Loading Route! Character?

System Administrator!Gojo Satoru

Love interest for Player- 3%

[Be aware not to cross above 100% for your safety~] Best of Luck!

[Player Death Rate- 80%]

Difficulty- SSR**

[Failing to clear will result in immediate death!]

Warnings/Tags?

[Slight!Violence; A System Administrator!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Otome Game Player Reader; Isekai]

Route Name?

[Do you love me Mr. Gojo?]

Good Luck player Y/n

The situation you were in now was unexpected, sure you might have hallucinated about it but hallucinations do not come to life correct? correct. If so was the case why are you stuck in this situation?

"Yo~ Y/n welcome to the afterlife!!!" pulling you by the wrist the man smirked smugly

"Congratulations on living the dream everyone has wanted to live, applause please!!!!" he clapped his hands loudly, setting off a party popper wearing a birthday hat

The man was a giant, 190 cm tall, with broad shoulders, white hair, and his eyes a blue embodying the entire sky- Looking into them felt like a freefall through an endless vast expanse of never ending Azure.

"W…Wait what!? I am dead…like dead dead? or a demon is trying to take possession of me?" confused you looked at him a bit freaked out at the situation

"Ah… possession well that's a first I have heard as a system administrator, oh well it's interesting" Smirking he offered you a party hat too

You looked at the party hat, then looked at him doubting and wondering if he was serious, as silence filled the heaven-like white room, with no beginning or end a span of endless white

"......."

"Ah you are no fun~" With a pout he threw the party hat away

"Believe it or not you are dead its not a dream, this is 100% real, you died in a car crash, a drunk driver slammed into you"

"So…I am dead?" you felt a pang in your chest, sweat dripped down your neck as the heart pumped itself to oblivion

"Yes, you are dead" The playful demeanor was gone as he looked at you, the gold threads embroidered into the royal blue and white suit glistened- something straight out of a French couture. The print was abstract-outwardly but fit him perfectly as if it was made for him.

"I…Is there no way to go back?"

"Hmmm…Well, you are going to be a player to test out the new world" sneering he leaned in, "If you win and survive, you can go back to your world"

"Really!? What do I need to do?"

"Well first of all~ you will need to make one of the characters fall in love with you, clear the route, and get a happily ever after, it's like a dating sim!" with a snap of his fingers a hologram appeared in front of you of a game like system

The Hologram had all kinds of stats missions, routes, shop, etc as you clicked around seeing different options

"And winning is assured because- I yours truly Mr. Gojo Satoru will accompany you through this! see!" he pointed at a small chibi icon of him in the corner of the hologram smirking.

"I see…but how are you so sure about winning? It's not like you are a god" you looked at him and chuckled finding it funny.

Without batting an eyes he gazed at you, looking into the depts of your soul every nook and cranny, and stated the obvious calmly as if it was obvious beyond doubt. For a moment he looked like a man above all, as if the world was nothing- not even worthy enough to be under his feet for it could never bear his divinity

"Darling", He chuckled , "Why would I need to be a God when my existence is higher than any position a God could want? As, throughout heavens and Earth, I alone am the honored one"

[System message!]

"Player Y/n do you wish to change route to other characters of jjk?"

Yes/ No

Link to my Masterlist

[If you wanna be tagged for other parts ect! comment below I will tag you~ and heart the post to let me know if you want more~]

@hinakazino it's out! Sorry for the late tag love ❤

@nissatamz it's out!!!

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kisseobie · 6 days

Note

make up make out session with shota after he ignores you while playing a video game!

shota makes me dizzy, thank u for sending something in for him!!

i can see this as a frequent occurrence tbh, we all know soul loves his alone time where he can game to his heart’s content after a long day of practice. you, however, just want to spend some time with your boyfriend today, but anything you do to try and get his attention is waved off by him. you understand that he wants to relax, but you don’t understand why you have to be removed from that equation, especially when you both know that there are.. more creative ways for him to let loose whilst giving you the attention you crave. you even considered sucking him off underneath his gaming table at a certain point, but dismissed that option because dammit you want to be the center of all of his attention, not partially!

after you’ve realized he’s not gonna let up on gaming anytime soon, if his short replies weren’t any indication of that, you retreat back to your bed, opting to scroll through your socials until he’s done. despite your determination to get over the way he’s been ignoring you since he got home, you can’t help but crave his embrace, and it’s pitiful how bored you get of scrolling within minutes. shota however, is still very preoccupied with his game, and without thinking, you get up from bed, walk over to his console, and unplug the main wire, resulting in the screen going pitch black. you’re about to make a snarky remark about how he can’t ignore you now, but you realize that your boyfriend looks incredibly pissed off, with his hands in the air as he stares at you in shock and annoyance.

as you can imagine, your sudden actions result in an argument between the pair of you, to which you finally decide to fess up and tell him that you miss him, and you wish he would include you in his plans rather than ignoring you all day. this seems to click in soul’s mind and he realizes that yes, he has been ignoring you and yes, he should apologize. although the argument wasn’t that serious, he still feels really bad and decides to guide you to your shared bed, apologizing several times before leaning in for a kiss. you smile into his lips as you’ve finally won him over, apologizing for cutting his game short before wrapping your arms around his neck to go in for another kiss.

by the end of the night, your covered in your boyfriend’s cum, a big smile painted on your face as you realize that yes, you’ll always be more important than shota’s silly games :p

a/n: now i wanna write a scenario where you give gamer shota head under his desk…

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @cysier @fishsquishh

#kpop writers #p1h #p1harmony #p1harmony x reader #piwon #p1harmony drabbles #p1h smut #p1harmony smut #p1harmony hard hours #haku shota #soul x reader

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babygirlbites · 24 days

Note

How would Leah react to her girlfriend using her as a portable heater and totally not stealing her jackets and hoddies to always smell like her werewolf?

I stopped everything to answer this.

I feel like being Leah’s imprint isn’t easy at first.

Home girl has been through a LOT in her last relationship; she had pretty much given up on the idea of romantic love until she met you

That doesn’t mean her trust comes thick and fast; she’s not cold to you but she’s not exactly opening up and bearing her soul either.

Her physical affection and emotional clarity comes with time and dedication - she keeps you at an arms length for a good while, but it’s inevitable that eventually she has to let you in and share what she sees as her “burden” of her baggage with you.

This can be tough on you, so you find ways to “keep her around”, even when she’s not actually there.

The first thing you take is just one of her black hoodies - she lends it to you at a bonfire before you even get the chance to feel the chill of the evening coming in.

You intend on giving it straight back but then when you get back home without her and pull it over your head you’re hit by the smell of dark sugar and pine - a scent that’s so Leah it twists your gut.

So maybe you sleep with it on your pillow? That’s your business.

It’s bittersweet how fast it loses the smell of HER, so you make sure to give it back so you feel less guilty about taking something else.

You start to be more vocal about feeling the cold, or put on a fake shiver when she’s around - she can’t deny you her clothes when she thinks you could be chilly.

Leah starts to notice this and at first she’s worried you’re getting sick or something; but then when she’s over in your room one day she notices the collection of her things you’ve got stored up.

It doesn’t click at first, and she loves seeing you wearing something of hers so publically - it’s her subtle claim on you.

But then one day she comes over earlier than you expect; you’re half way through sorting something in the kitchen so you send her upstairs without thinking.

She sees her hoodie wrapped around your pillow, the side she knows you sleep on.

And then it all clicks for her - this is as much of benficial exchange for you as it is her.

She doesn’t think before questioning you on it; I feel like Leah can be blunt with her emotions, she’s a open book with you.

And when you blush and try to scramble together an excuse she knows she’s got you.

As annoying as it might be for her to have less outfit options at her disposal, her heart is so full with the idea of you finding as much comfort in her scent as she finds in yours.

The physical stuff comes later; but as soon as you discover Leah is basically a living breathing hot water bottle - there is no turning back.

You’re pressed against her at all times, her skin is so comforting to you it’s like a safety blanket.

She might give you grief for being a little clingy but she’s never serious with it.

One time she ribs you on it at the wrong time of month and you go on a touch strike for a week, suffering greatly but being too stubborn to back down.

She regrets it so much she vows to herself that she will never complain about you clinging to her ever again.

Intimacy is not the easiest thing for Leah, but once you form that level of trust she needs you close just as much as you need it.

She’s always seeking you out, at least some part of her body touching you at all times.

This is only more extreme in the privacy of your own home.

You’re at the sink? She’s behind you with her arms wrapped around your waist.

You’re watching tv? She’s got you on her knee, your head tucked into her shoulder.

You’re in bed? She’s holding you like you’ll disappear if she lets go.

She wants you close always and forever - when you’re in her arms she knows you’re safe from harm.

Leah is the kind of girlfriend who won’t only die for you, but would kill for you.

She’s ride or die, she just needs to warm up to you first.

And she’s definitely got some of your clothes tucked away in her room too.

She offers to clean your clothes but takes the odd item and keeps it in her car or in her room, Sue definitely notices the very NOT Leah clothes that keep cropping up in her house but she knows better then to say anything.

Seth sees it too, but like his mom, he keeps it too himself, they are just both so happy to see Leah happy again and don’t want to push her to tell them before she’s ready.

Maybe it’s time to buy a few copies of your favourite shirt though

#twilight saga #imagine #twilight #imagines #quileute #leah clearwater #leah clearwater x reader #leah clearwater imagine

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heartmii · 2 months

Text

TOA 01

✮⋆apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: angst, mentions of blood, anything else anyone sees and is uncomfortable with please let me know!

✮⋆˙ woo chapter two!! I'm excited to release this but also super nervous because I added a twist that I'm not sure everyone will love but I mean, it's a story about mythical beings so I decided to just have fun with it!

✮⋆˙previous

✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙

“What did you do?” Anger seethed through the ex-god, his shaky breath competed with the rapid thump of his heart against his chest. Apollo’s eyes snapped to the now smug smiling emperor, the fury in his chest growing.

“Oh? Are you not happy with what you see?” Caligula asked, voice laced with fake concern. He clicked his tongue, his eyes surveying his servants in dissatisfaction. “The gods,” he sighed, shaking his head. “So hard to please. You surprise them with the dead love of their life, and still, it’s not enough for them to say thank you. Such egos, it’s a shame, really.”

Apollo swallowed, an attempt at soothing the dryness that was now overtaking his throat. “That’s not possible. It’s an illusion. It has to be…” he faltered, his body deflating as he dropped onto the ground.

Apollo was a god turned mortal. He was from the mythical world and saw many things, things that one alone could not comprehend, things that don’t make sense, that shouldn’t be able to happen because it went beyond the natural order of the mortal and mythical world. Yet, somehow, you being brought back from the dead was not an acceptance that came easily to him.

It’d been years, years, since your death, but you lived. Alive in Apollo’s mind. There was not a day, not a century, not even a millennium, that Apollo did not think of you and the bittersweet memories you two shared. Your grace and your beauty, along with the essence of your soul, were immortalized for eternity in his heart, where he could forever nourish your memory and honor your legacy.

Please… Who was he kidding? Honoring your legacy? Him? Apollo had done nothing but trash on everything you stood behind! If anything, he went against what you fought so desperately for. There was blood on his hands. The blood of many innocent lives he so easily discarded with no regard for their being. The option of others having a choice was previously nonexistent in the ex-god’s mind. He’d force many people to do his bidding and castigate them if they rejected.

Including those he loved after your time.

His heart clenched as Daphne’s horrified face filled his mind. Her expression contrasting his hopeful one as he chased her through the forest surrounding mount Olympus. It was Eros who, so full of spite, caused her to hate the mere thought of Apollo’s face. So much so that she begged her father, Peneus, desperate for help. He’d heard her prayers and granted her salvation.

But even after the last branch formed from Daphne’s outstretched arm and she had fully become a prospering laurel tree, Apollo did not allow her to rest peacefully. He had plucked the leaves from her branches and formed what was now known to be one of his most notable symbols. The laurel reef.

Daphne didn’t love Apollo. No, she despised him so much that she believed death was better than remaining on earth with him, but even that he had stolen from her.

Just like you, Daphne was immortalized in the memories and stories of people but met the tragic fate of being forever tied to the very god that she had died escaping, tainting her name with his own and taking away her right to a peaceful death. Apollo may not have been the one that forced her to take her last breath, but it was he who pushed her to such a state of helplessness that she felt there was no other option.

Perhaps that was why the thought of you being alive was so agonizing to him, because then you would learn about the monster he had become and how all of those promises he made to you under the moonlight had become nothing but empty words he spewed under the drunken spell of love.

How could he look you in your eyes now? Eyes that always glimmered with determination as you spouted your ideals and all the great you planned to do in the world…how could he look at those same eyes and say that he failed to do what you had dreamed, what you both dreamed. Even if that dream died for Apollo a long time ago.

Caligula considered Apollo for a moment before grabbing your arm and moving you back into his line of sight. He turned back to the ex god, his smile now wicked and sadistic, vastly enjoying the conflicting grief in his eyes.

“You haven’t taken a proper look at him. As he was once your lover, there’s no doubt in my mind you’ve memorized his body. You should have no trouble deducing if he’s a fake or not.”

How odd was it that Apollo, who had been literally fighting for his life these past few months and wanted nothing more but to evade conflict, wished he was dodging swinging swords, and running from giant monsters that chased him and his friends instead of being here, simply standing and being forced to stare at the person most precious to him.

Yet, he had succumbed to the small part of him that was a tad curious if it truly was you.

His breath staggered, and he stood on wobbly legs, anxiously meeting your stare, only to regret it immediately.

There they were, those eyes. Hypnotic as they had willed Apollo into your grasp, and enchanted him with an infatuation that ran deep in his blood. The same hunger swirled within them in a way that could only be described as honest passion. The intensity made Apollo’s heart skip a beat, and he trembled under your gaze.

It was said that one’s eyes were the window into their soul, a quote which honestly was quite dated and overused, but as you searched deep within Apollo, he felt his own soul stir in response. His body had recognized its missing piece and, like a magnet, it fought to connect again.

Your souls were bound to each other. The fates decreed that the moment you two met. There was no way Apollo wouldn’t have known if you were a fake.

In case he was completely wrong and in over his head, he took action to make sure he was absolute in his observation. It hurt to tear his sight away from your face, but he allowed himself to survey the rest of you, as Caligula suggested.

His eyes roamed your body with a frown.

How strange. You appeared to be… out of this world.

Your aura, although it had always been charming, was different in a way Apollo could not put his finger on. Something about you filled him with an irresistible sensation he had never felt with you before.

Could it be Lester’s human hormones could not handle the gorgeous sight of his past lover and therefore appeared to be more appetizing than usual?

No, that couldn’t be it. Yes, mortals could definitely be extremely tempting creatures, but they didn’t hold the same weight and power as they did with gods. Many felt enchanted just by the mere sight of one. It was not a simple task to break away from their inviting aura and fight the urge to give in to their desires.

Your aura was similar; An inviting force emitting from you. But how? You weren’t a god… were you?

Apollo gagged internally at the thought, his insides twisting at the possibility of you being a deity.

Being mortal was the very essence of your existence. It was nauseating how you nurtured the role like it was your life’s purpose, facing no fear towards things such as death or illness, claiming that these tragedies were simply just a part of being human and running from it would do nothing but force you to live in a world of clouds where you’d constantly be lost amongst the fog.

Becoming a deity would’ve made your death a vain sacrifice for what you believed and enduring an eternity of grief would’ve been for nothing. Days of forcing the sun to shine upon the earth when Apollo himself was lost in the overwhelming darkness of his heart as his guiding light, his sun, was gone. Constantly, he searched for another you because the void left in him hurt too much, but of course, none had come as close to his heart as you did because in the end, all he wanted was you and he caged his heart behind iron bars out of fear of experiencing grief on that level ever again.

There was only one who had been close to unlocking his heart again after you. His dear Hyacinthus. Oh, how the boy had reminded Apollo of you in so, so, many ways. The both of you were graceful, heads held high as you smiled at all that you loved. Adored by many as anyone who came to meet you was always enthralled by your allure and hearts of gold. But alas, love was never in Apollo’s favor, and his precious Hyacinthus met a tragic fate when he was murdered by the conniving and envious wind god, Zephyrus.

It was almost comical how similar your deaths were. A sadistic joke played on Apollo. All hope he ever had for another love as great as you and Hyacinthus went out the window and following that was a now numb and manipulative god who allowed himself to know his lovers but never allowed them to know him.

All of that guilt he felt for abusing his authority and refusing to see his lover’s as equals, all the shame for not living up to par with what you wanted, would’ve been for nothing. Along with the stab of knowing that you didn’t choose HIM over your ideals when he would’ve burned the world for you, was all too much. No, you couldn’t be a deity because then Apollo would never forgive you.

He could not bear these thoughts and, for once, Apollo was glad when Caligula spoke to him as he had distracted him from the fogginess building up in his eyes.

Caligula waved his hand in the ex-god’s face, surveying him. “I’ll take the dumb look on your already idiotic face as confirmation that you’ve recognized that this is the real deal.” He turned to you, “I know how, uh… different…Apollo must look to you. Surely, it must be traumatic to come back from the dead and your once powerful and radiant lover is now pathetic, weak, and ugly. Do you believe this to be the god you once loved?”

Apollo huffed, once because he could not deny that Lester’s face was, in fact, idiotic and again because of Caligula’s question. Your eyes were good, but they weren’t that good. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been blessed with seeing beyond the mist, a trait that could’ve saved your life.

“You ask him a question he cannot answer. He would not recognize me in such a body—“

“Yes.” You cut him off and stepped closer. Apollo sucked in his bottom lip as your hands had come up to run your fingers through his hair. Oh, how he missed your touch. The way you handled him like he was a piece of glass. Then you spoke again, your voice being in that delicious and melodic tone that made heat travel up Apollo’s neck to the tips of his ears. Damn this body.

“Although in a different body, your scent remains the same… how bizarre. Might it be your soul I smell?” You muttered, your fingers dragging down Apollo’s cheek.

Apollo shuttered at your touch, the coolness of your finger soothing his warm face. But as much as he wanted to allow you to continue your exploration of his body, he could not shake off what you had said. “My scent—- What does that mean? — How is your nose even that good?—“

“Bravo! It appears love truly conquers all!” Caligula clapped, pulling you away from Apollo and making the ex-god frown. Something wasn’t right about you, besides being a walking corpse. Death was not his domain, but as far as Apollo was aware, coming back from the dead did not include the nose of a hellhound.

“What did you do to him?” He asked Caligula, pinning his arms to his side as they had once again trembled.

Caligula stared at Apollo questioningly. “What did I do?” He laughed. “You are funny, dear. This fiasco was not my idea. All I want from you is to squeeze out the final essence of godhood that’s left in that lanky vessel. If you were smart, you would’ve directed your attention to the only witch in the room.”

Apollo’s eyes swiftly met Medea’s sadistic ones. She had silently been watching the previous conversation from the side. Gods, he was so caught up in the sight of you he had forgotten all about the Wicked Witch of the East.

“How rude of you to put me on the spot. I haven’t prepared my speech.” Medea purrs and approaches, circling around you before landing her hands on your shoulders. “On the contrary, love does not, in fact, conquer all.” She said, referring to Caligula’s earlier comment.

“Instead, it leads people to their doom. It makes them think with their hearts and not their heads. The most powerful beings,” Apollo cursed himself for flinching after she had eyed him with a knowing look. “Have been brought down onto their knees in the name of love. As you all know, I, myself, have been a victim of this. After Jason betrayed me.”

“I don’t understand.” Apollo interjected. “I had nothing to do with Jason’s betrayal against you.”

“Oh, I am aware. But that is not why I brought him up.”

“You see, my heart had never bled as much as it did when I was in love. I yearned to serve Jason. To become half of his soul as his life, his goals, had become my own. I was high on that feeling. A feeling you must know well, yes?” The smile on her face was one Apollo did indeed recognize.

A smile that did not reach one’s eyes, that was all for show to hide your true misery. He hated sympathizing with the witch, but he knew exactly what she meant.

It seemed his face wasn’t so good at hiding his feelings either, as Madea had nodded to herself in what seemed to be satisfaction. “I needed something against you, Apollo. But what was something that would hold such great power over an ex-Olympian God? It couldn't be physical, no, that would be too merciful. I needed something, or someone, that could cause such turmoil within you that the thought of even fighting against it would cause you great sorrow.”

“Well, isn’t that thoughtful? Putting in all that effort into destroying little ol’me.”

She sneered, her eyes narrowing. “I studied you. Studied how I could control you, and imagine my surprise when I found out about an unclaimed lover of yours.” Her hands go to you, caressing your arms and making Apollo livid. “It seems not everything made it into the history books.”

Grime stained Apollo’s face, becoming one with the hot tears sliding down his cheeks. His hands ached as he pulled apart dirt from the ground with none other than his fingers. He could’ve called someone and ordered them to do the laboring task on their own. But he refused. He had to do this alone. He had to bury you himself.

No one should be able to see you, to touch you, to be around you. Not anymore. You were too sacred, too precious for this cursed world. But Apollo was selfish. He took you away from the earth, took you away from the rest of your family, just to have you rest under his domain.

The god’s choked cries turned into loud sobs as his fingers dug deeper into the sacred dirt of Delos, shimmering gold tainting the soil. He welcomed the blood seeping from his hand; the pain was deserved. It was nothing compared to what you must’ve felt when his father had struck you down, but he needed to feel something. Anything that would compensate for the agony you went through before drawing your final breath.

Delos, where he and Artemis were born. The land that had once been his aunt, Asteria, who had transformed herself into a floating island to get away from the advances of Zeus. Where she provided sanctuary for his mother as she ran from the wrath of Hera on earth. This is where Apollo would bury you, a place that would now provide you sanctuary as it did for his family. A place where you could rest unbothered by the world.

The hole was deep enough now, and Apollo had pulled himself out of it. A coffin waited for him and he involuntarily walked towards it, dragging his hand against it. The coffin had been turned from a simple block of stone to a grand piece of imagery. All along its sides had Apollo carved into it, creating depictions of milestones in your relationship. The first time you met, along with the time he revealed to you he was a god followed by the countless times he’d let you play on his lyre and of course, the first ‘I love you.’ Amongst many more.

He was gentle with the coffin when he picked it up, moving slowly when he brought it over to the open ground. Apollo bit his lip, holding back his weeping so that he could focus on lowering you into the hole.

It was done. You were really gone, and Apollo would never be yours again.

“What are you doing here?” Apollo asked, his voice hoarse and his eyes bleak. He was sitting on the ground, painting a gravestone.

Grass crunched behind him as someone approached. “You’re burying him here?”

Apollo’s wrist kept moving, his brush creating faces on the gravestone. Still, he answered, “Cut the crap, Artemis.”

Artemis crossed her arms, frowning at her brother’s words. “I was born here too, Apollo. I have just as much right to be here as you do.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Apollo snapped, the brush falling from his fingers.

“Knew what?” Artemis asked.

“Don’t lie to me Artemis.” Apollo stood, finally facing his twin. “You knew father would kill him!”

Artemis flinched as she caught wind of Apollo’s face, the puffiness under his eyes red and throbbing. Yet she recovered quickly, shaking Apollo’s arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

He placed his hands back onto her, gripping her in more of a desperate plea than before. “Please, sister, tell me the truth. Did you know that father would kill him?”

. “I…” she started, her chest growing heavy as she felt Apollo’s fingers shake against her. Swallowing carefully, she moved her eyes to your grave. “Yes, I knew… we all did.”

Apollo’s grip on her tightened, his eyes becoming glassy at the revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you sworn to secrecy? Is that why you didn’t tell me? Father is frightening. I understand if he forced you to swear on the River Styx—”

“He didn’t force me to do anything.”

“What…?”

“Oath did not bind me to not say anything to you. I simply chose not to.” Artemis stated, throwing Apollo off of her once again. Her head held high as she watched for his reaction.

Apollo stared at her, his eyes widening in disbelief. He shook his head. “You knew how much I loved him, you knew father was going to kill him and you didn’t tell me! I don’t understand, Artemis. You are my sister, my twin, my blood. How… how could you?”

“That is exactly why! Apollo, you are my other half. We are two sides of the same coin. We might be related to the others, but their bond is not like ours. That boy was leading you to your demise. I have nothing against him, but you are who I care about most. I didn’t want to see him dead, but I didn’t want to see my brother subjected to an eternal punishment, either.” Artemis finished, her own resolve fading as she too shook at the thought of Apollo being hurt.

Apollo’s jaw clenched. “Well, sister,” he started, malice seeping into his voice, “It seems you’ve failed anyway because a life without him is the worst punishment I could ever endure.”

“Demigods!” Medea yelled out, bringing awareness to Meg and Jason’s presence in the room. They couldn’t speak anyway, not while they were stuck in the wind tornadoes Medea had stuck them in. “This is important. Pay attention.”

“Delphi was a known city-state of ancient Greece. A city state where you, Apollo, were the patron god of. But the Delphi that lives in myths, the one that we know, is not the Delphi that has always been.”

Through the corner of his eye, Apollo watched as both Meg and Jason’s expressions formed into one of confusion.

“Once upon a time ago, Apollo betrayed Zeus. However, that’s not a surprise, that is a story that still lives. What didn’t make it, though, was the entire punishment your father had you experience. The gods said you were forced to build the gates of Troy alongside Poseidon. But what they failed to mention was the part where Zeus took everything from you. Your lover and your city. Isn’t that right?”

Apollo opened his mouth to speak, eager to defend his story. He knew where this was going and dread filled his stomach.

Medea spoke before he could. “Oh, but that’s not even the best part! The original Delphi had its own royal family, a family that your boy-toy had been born to.” She comes to your side, raising your hand up. “Here stands the last prince of Delphi before its initial destruction. After a few years, Apollo rebuilt Delphi and got rid of all the evidence of its history. But thanks to my digging, I could uncover all of this.”

Behind him, the Pandai were ready to lunge forward and capture Apollo as he had taken on a defensive stance against Medea. “Who told you this? The only person who knew about where I buried him was my sister.”

Medea scoffed. “Oh, please, if you want to hide the body of your dead lover, do it somewhere that’s not your famous birthplace that everyone knows about. It was the first place I checked.”

Apollo’s eyes ripped away from hers as blood rushed to his head. She was right, and he was an idiot to think that if someone wanted to find your body, they wouldn’t look on Delos. In his defense, it had been four thousand years since your death.

Medea smirked at the red dusting Apollo’s cheeks.

“Everything fell into place for me after that. You preserved his body well, I expected dust only to find that his body was enchanted to stay in good shape. It was perfect for my plan. I needed to bring him back from the dead without actually bringing him back, as I did not want to deal with Hades. He needed to be undead. I looked for spells beyond Ancient Greece and came upon the perfect solution within the dark arts—

“I’ve had enough of your talking,” Apollo sneered, glaring at the witch. “What have you turned him into?”

“Patience.” She hissed, “I sacrificed my rarest properties along with human blood to create an elixir that would wake up this sleeping beauty. It took days to restore him to full health. But finally, when he did wake, he was radiant. No longer was he a meek mortal. His senses had heightened as he was now strong and blessed with speed, his ears picked up on sounds from miles away, and a nose made for hunting. There’s more, I'm sure of it, but he is still fresh and needs time to develop. So what did I turn him into, you ask?”

Medea sent Apollo one last wicked smile before dropping information that made the ex-god wish he was dead.

“I have turned the long-lost Prince of Delphi into a vampire.”

#pjo x reader #pjo x male reader #trials of apollo x reader #apollo x male reader #apollo x reader #trials of apollo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 9 months

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...the dawn of ♥ kink!week ♥ is upon us...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ those faint of heart, look away and shield thine eyes — miserable sinners, prepare; for we have entered the unholy week ∼

∼ day one brings us our beloved metallic lady ♥ Jane Murdstone ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

tags: #alternate universe - modern setting #dominatrix #bdsm #bladder control #watersports #piss kink #mistress/slave #dom/sub play #fetish clothing #leather gloves #face slapping #degradation kink #humiliation #golden shower #masturbation #aftercare #kink!week

don't look away (as i bare my soul to you) (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

You will always remember the night you met her.

You were attending a house party organised by one of your good friends — very much a social butterfly, unlike yourself — and you weren't surprised there were all sorts of interesting people there, and that one of them just happened to be the tallest, most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

You could tell she was exceptionally bored as she sat on the couch alone, long legs crossed, typing on her phone and absentmindedly sipping her wine. You probably stared at her for a full minute, just awkwardly hanging by the door with your own drink, taken by her commanding presence and how stunning she looked just in her casual black slacks and blouse that was unbuttoned just enough that you could almost see her bra if you angled your head the right way.

You surely would have stared much longer had she not lifted her gaze and raised her eyebrow at you. You immediately felt your cheeks burn and your palms sweat, embarrassment overwhelming you, as if you’ve been caught doing something terribly wrong. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, but you didn’t know what could be said after so rudely staring at someone, so you turned to leave.

What stopped you from fleeing in shame, with your tail between your legs, was that she smirked and gestured you to join her, tapping a spot next to her on the couch. You immediately obeyed. No other option even crossed your mind — something about this woman drew you in.

“Jane Murdstone,” she said with a delicious, velvety English accent, extending her arm towards you as you sat next to her. You noticed how piercingly blue her eyes are.

“My palms are sweaty,” you said stupidly, looking at her with your mouth slightly agape, feeling as if you were in the presence of a goddess.

“Then wipe them on your trousers,” she said calmly, cocking her head. The corner of her lips barely perceptibly curled upwards.

You wiped your palms on your trousers and went on to shake her hand. You immediately noticed how big it is compared to yours, and you didn’t know why it flustered you so much. She gave you a firm squeeze and lingered a second longer than necessary.

“Will I get a name, or just reports on the state of your palms?” she asked.

You stuttered while telling her your name, but she didn’t comment on it.

“Do I have something on my face?” she just asked, leaning back into the couch and swinging her arm over the headrest.

“Why?” you asked back, confused.

“You stared at me for a full minute,” she answered, smirking, and took a sip of her wine. She never once broke eye contact with you — it made you squirmy, but you couldn’t look away, as if under a spell. You felt as if she was looking at your very soul — bare and unprotected and vulnerable.

“I—I’m sorry, I just thought… I just thought you were beautiful,” you managed to utter.

“Did you, now?” she asked, looking very amused .

You nodded.

“Well, thank you. But don’t you know it’s quite rude to stare?”

That finally made you avert your gaze in shame. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, don’t worry — I like making people flustered. I’m having a lot of fun right now.”

You looked up at her again. She was staring at you with that piercing gaze that made you feel completely naked, her blue eyes twinkling in amusement. “And what do you do for fun?” she asked.

Oh, you were completely enraptured by her.

You spent the entire evening talking about everything and nothing. You were surprised how comfortable you felt with her, despite her commanding presence — or maybe because of it. She never paid any attention to you stuttering, nor your blushing — she just sat there and waited until she got an answer to a question she asked. It made it hard to avoid talking about yourself — and oh, it felt so good to talk about yourself for once.

At one point you asked her what she did for work — and then choked on your drink when you heard the answer. It surprised you, even though her commanding presence could have been an inkling — but she just looked so normal, with her dark brown hair in a loose bun, her tasteful and minimal makeup, and her slacks, blouse and pumps that made her look like a businesswoman on her evening off.

“A dominatrix? That’s really cool,” you said, blushing, “I just didn’t expect it. Don’t get me wrong, but you just look very normal.”

She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her wine. “Oh, and what did you expect? Latex? Or leather?”

You felt very silly because that is exactly what you expected. “Sorry, I just… I just never met a dominatrix before.”

“So, not familiar with that world, I presume?”

“Not really. But, I mean… I’m… interested. I mean, not interested interested, don’t get me wrong. I just, you know, had like, thoughts, and I’d never actually do it, but I think about, I mean not think about, just like… I wonder sometimes, you know, like what it’d be like, like, none of the hardcore stuff, but just, you know—”

She interrupted your pathetic rambling. “Would you want to try it?”

You froze. “What?”

“Would you want to try it?” she repeated. Her expression was completely calm and neutral, as if she just asked you about your favourite colour.

“I—I—I mean, that would make no sense. I was always… I’m boring. I just go to my job and then I go home. It couldn’t be into something like that, like, it’d be so out of character and it… it just makes no sense that I would, you know, be like…. into it,” you fumbled.

“I didn’t ask you if it would make sense. I asked if you’d like to try it.”

You spent the next couple of seconds just staring at her, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. She just sat there in silence, calmly sipping her wine, waiting for you to answer.

And finally, you did.

“Yes.”

You glance at the clock.

It’s 12pm — another five hours until the end of your work day, and you already can’t focus on anything else besides the pain in your bladder.

You press your thighs together — you can do this.

You take in a deep breath before turning your attention to the pile of paperwork laying on your desk — mocking you and waiting for you to go through it. And you will — you must. It has to be done by the end of the day. You won’t let yourself get fired — you’ll push through.

You wouldn’t want to disappoint your Mistress, after all.

Jane has been your Mistress for about six months now, and slowly you are starting to venture into kinks you never thought you’d admit being interested in — to anyone — ever. You were fully prepared to take those with you to the grave.

Truth be told, you once thought the same about trying out a BDSM lifestyle, and then… well. Then you sort of stumbled into it — and now it’s something you do on a Monday afternoon after working hours.

Or, in this case, during working hours.

Your belly tingles with excitement just thinking about it — no one knows you’re engaging in a sexual fantasy of yours right now.

You clench your thighs together again — both to help with the fact that you really need to pee right now and to give provide some friction. You know, however, that you absolutely cannot touch yourself, nor go to the bathroom — not until 6pm today, when your scheduled session takes place.

You smile and start sorting through the paperwork in front of you. You’re giddy with anticipation.

6pm can’t come soon enough.

You can barely stand when you get to her apartment and ring the doorbell. Your bladder hurts — you don’t think you can hold it in much longer.

She opens the door in a black, silken night-robe. Her long hair is loose and fluffy around her shoulders, she isn’t wearing any makeup, and she’s barefoot. She seems to be naked underneath the robe. It’s unusual — she normally puts on something more fitting for her role. however, you still think she looks gorgeous — perhaps even more so than usual.

She eyes you up and down. “Come in,” she says, face impassive, then turns around and walks towards the playroom. “Coat, bag, shoes,” she commands, not bothering to turn around or look at you as she disappears into the room on the right.

You quickly hang your coat and bag and take your shoes off before you follow her, pressing your thighs together and clenching your pelvic muscles as hard as you can.

She waits for you in the playroom, sitting on the big couch next to the window. She gestures for you to stand in the middle of the room.

“Stand here and don’t move. You’ll watch me get dressed. When I’m done, you can go to the bathroom.”

As much as the thought excites you, you don’t think you can last even another ten minutes.

“But, Mistress, I… I don’t think I can hold it in much longer. It’s been an entire day.”

“Well,” she says, tilting her head. She watches you squirm from the couch, lips curling in amusement. “If you can’t make it, you’ll just have to go right here.”

“R-right here?” you repeat. You can feel your cheeks starting to burn. “But… I can’t.”

“Well, if you can’t then you won’t,” she simply says and gets up from the couch. She walks towards the little vanity in the corner of the room and stars sorting through her makeup. “And if you can, you are welcome to. However — you don’t get to use the bathroom until I’m done.” She sits down on the little chair and starts applying moisturiser on her face.

“But—but—” you start, but she interrupts you.

“You will not give me attitude, or there will be consequences,” she says, looking at you through the mirror. The tone of her voice sends a shiver down your spine — cold, uncompromising, and so fucking hot.

“Yes, Mistress,” you say and your voice sounds squeakier than you intended.

“Poor little thing — always so flustered around me,” she coos while dabbing concealer under her eyes, saccharine condescension oozing from her voice. “You just need to be stepped on, don’t you? You need someone to tell you what to do and when to do it — even your bodily functions. Can’t even do that yourself.”

“No, Mistress,” you say, shuffling on your feet, pressing your thighs together. Your bladder really hurts.

“Stop squirming,” she says, dusting eyeshadow on her lids and glancing at you in the mirror. “You have one very simple task and it is to stand still. Or are you too incompetent even for that?”

“It really hurts, Mistress. May I sit down?” you ask.

“No.”

You try your best not to squirm. You press your thighs together as tightly as you can, trying to take deep breaths to soothe yourself and breathe through the pain. You somehow manage to zone out — you watch her do her makeup, as if in a trance, and you’re proud of yourself for doing rather well. You make it through powder, mascara, blush, eyeliner and lipstick, and before you know it, she’s done. She fluffs out her hair and checks her makeup in the mirror, and then she gets up and turns to look at you.

“You’re doing well,” she says. “A bit too well. Is this too easy, hm?” she asks, approaching you.

“No, Mistress.”

She stands in front of you — and fuck, she’s so tall. It makes you feel all fuzzy and tingly inside.

“Oh, I disagree,” she says. She throws the robe off of herself, revealing that she is, indeed, naked underneath. You mouth waters. “You’ll help me get into my corset.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She turns and walks towards the couch. Her ass and thighs jiggle as she walks. You lick your lips, and your belly tingles — you hope she lets you touch her today. You’d love to worship her.

Laying on the couch, you only now realise, is the outfit she picked for herself for today — a black corset, a leather harness, black stockings, and — your favourite — black leather gloves. Black heels are on the floor next to it. You see no panties of any kind, which is a bit unusual, but not unwelcome.

She takes the gloves first. She makes eye contact with you as she slowly puts them on, taking her time, wiggling her fingers and clenching her fist after she slides each of them on — and it’s so hot you almost forget abut the burning pain in your bladder. Your mouth gapes open and your heart beats faster.

“Close your mouth,” she says sternly before she moves on to the stockings, and you immediately obey.

She puts one long leg on the couch and slides the stocking on — painfully slowly — then does the same with the other one. You lick your lips and squirm again. “Don’t. Squirm,” she commands.

“Sorry, Mistress.”

She slides her feet into black heels, then grabs the corset before she slowly walks to you, swaying her hips. Her breasts bounce as she moves and you can’t help but stare. She’s even taller now with the heels on, and it makes you giddy. You feel so tiny next to her.

As soon as she reaches you, she slaps you across the face — hard. You gasp.

“You can’t even follow simple directions — stand still and keep your mouth closed. How many times to I need to say it, hm?” she says and grabs your jaw with her gloved hand. She presses her fingers into your cheeks so hard it hurts. “Answer me.”

“I—I’m sorry, Mistress, it won’t happen again,” you utter, eyes wide, chest slightly heaving. You have to crane your neck so far back to meet her gaze — you love it.

She lets go of your jaw, and then immediately slaps you again, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“How is your bladder?” she asks as she wraps the corset she’s holding around her torso. It’s already buckled in the front, but the laces on the back are loose.

“It hurts, Mistress.”

“Poor thing,” she says, her face stony, as she pokes your belly with her finger. You tense your muscles and clench your thighs together.

“Please, Mistress — it hurts,” you say. You’re doing so well — but if she does that again, you know you won’t be able to hold it in.

“Does it now?” she asks condescendingly.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She simply chuckles.

“Tie this. Make it tight.”

She turns around, holding the corset pressed to her stomach, and you immediately start working on the laces. The pain in your bladder is becoming worse by the minute, especially after her poking it. You can barely concentrate on your task, but somehow you manage to push through.

She turns back around to face you. “Only the harness left. Do you think you can make it?”

She reaches inside the corset to adjust her breasts. Your gaze wanders towards them. You bite your lip as you watch her gloved hand fondle her breast, cupping it and pushing upwards. “Eyes up.”

You look up. The intensity with which she looks at you makes you shiver — it always does. With her, you always feel like you’ve nowhere to hide. It’s like she can see inside your soul, like she truly sees you — pathetic and shivering and naked — and she never averts her eyes.

“I can make it, Mistress.”

“Are you quite sure?” she asks, and her blue eyes twinkle, but her face is otherwise unreadable.

“I think so, Mistress.”

It hurts — badly — but you don’t want to give up now that you’re so close to making it.

“Wait here,” she says and walks out of the room. You watch her ass wiggle and her hips sway as she leaves.

The moment she exits the room, you squirm and press your thighs together as hard as you can. You don’t know how to feel — on one hand, it would be really hot if she made you pee your pants, and on the other, you don’t think you could handle the shame you’d feel. You like humiliation — but this? You’ve never done something like this before. You decide you’ll try your best to hold it in until she lets you go to the bathroom.

She returns quickly, carrying a big water bottle. She hands it to you. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

“Drink,” she says. “All of it.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

You start drinking, and she watches. It’s a big bottle, and you aren’t sure you can drink it all. You can feel your belly filling with water, and the pressure in your bladder is unbearable. You try to lower the bottle, pace yourself, but she tilts it and pushes it into your mouth.

“I said, all of it.”

She reaches under your shirt and grabs your hips. You’re still drinking. She gentle runs her gloved hands over your stomach — lightly, teasingly — then under your bra. You continue drinking until you finish the bottle as she fondles you, sending tingles down your spine.

“All done?” she asks, running her fingers over your ribs.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Give it to me.”

She takes the bottle and puts it on the little table next to the couch, then returns to you.

“You must be so uncomfortable,” she says, sliding her hands under your shirt again, putting one on the small of your back and the other on your bloated belly.

“Yes, Mistress.” You’re sure you can’t make it at this point. “How long… until I can go to the bathroom, Mistress?” you ask.

She gently massages your belly and you whimper. “Oh, but you could go right now, and it would all stop.”

“But I can’t, I’m too embarrassed.”

“And what if I commanded you to go, hm? You wouldn’t disobey me, would you?” she asks, circling around you as she caresses your stomach, until she’s behind you and pressing her body into yours. She leans down and you feel her hot breath on your ear. You whimper.

“I can’t, Mistress, please, I—”

She grabs your neck from behind you, her gloved hand pressing against your windpipe. “Do not give me attitude.”

Suddenly, she grabs your hips and presses her fingers into your pelvis. You gasp and your muscles give in — and the next thing you know warm liquid is trickling down your thigh. Horrified, you watch a dark, wet spot form on your trousers.

Jane lets go of your waist and walks to stand in front of you as you continue to stare at your crotch, deep shame colouring your cheeks red. You can’t help but gasp in relief as the painful pressure bladder finally subsides, which makes you even more embarrassed. You hide your face into your hands and press your thighs together. It just keeps going — you have’t peed all day. You feel it trickle down your calves and onto your feet until it pools on the floor. Tears of shame prickle in your eyes.

“Look at me,” Jane says. You slowly lower your hands and clutch your shirt, breathing deeply and trying not to cry. You look at her. She’s standing a few feet away from you, watching you, her gaze as intense as ever. “Don’t avert your eyes.”

You watch her, tears streaming down your face, your underwear, your trousers and your socks uncomfortably wet, as she walks towards the couch and takes the harness. She puts it on, but it takes a while. You just stand there — embarrassed, blushing, crying and wet.

You aren’t wet just from your own piss, however.

Something about the humiliation makes you incredibly aroused, and Jane knows it — oh, she knows it well. She knew it from the first night you talked — you didn’t even have to tell her — and she pushes you, always pushes you just a bit further than the last time.

She walks back towards you, now clad in the elaborate harness that hugs her neck, her waist, her arms and her thighs, black leather belts crisscrossing. She looks like your dirtiest fantasy.

“Kneel,” she says.

You kneel into the puddle of your own piss, wetting your trousers even further.

You look up at her. As she isn’t wearing any underwear, your gaze wanders to her pussy — it looks pink and delicious and absolutely delectable. You wonder if she’s command you to eat her out, and you shiver in anticipation, heat pooling in your belly.

She lifts her leg and puts her heeled foot onto your shoulder. “Since you’re already so filthy,” she says, “it’ll make no difference if you’re even filthier.”

You stare at her pink, slick folds and your mouth waters. “Tilt your head back. Look me in the eyes,” she says. You do as you’re told and you meet her gaze. She watches you, her lips parted and her eyes dark with lust.

You gasp when warm liquid hits your chest. You feel her piss slowly wet your shirt and your bra and drip down your stomach into your underwear. She keeps eye contact the entire time. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she says. “Filthy girl.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whimper, cheeks red, chest heaving.

“Nasty, dirty girl,” she says, her voice deep and thick with lust. “I bet your pussy is all wet, hm?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you breathe out. She looks like a goddess, looking down upon you. Your mind feels fuzzy and you feel as light as a feather. You’d do anything she asked of you right now. You just want to serve her.

She removes her foot from your shoulder, and you barely notice that the heel dug into your flesh — you only feel a sort of a euphoria.

“Stay on the floor and touch yourself. You can come.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you say and immediately slip your hand into your soaked underwear.

“Sit down, ass on the floor.”

You do as she tells you and sit down in the puddle of piss. Your trousers immediately soak through on your ass, but you don’t care.

She looks down on you as you start rubbing your clit. “Look at you. Nasty girl. You like sitting in your own filth, hm?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you moan, rubbing your clit faster.

“No wonder you need me to guide you. You can’t do anything yourself except rub your pussy like a bitch in heat.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whine. You’re already getting close. “Ah, Mistress, you’re so good to me.”

“I’m too good to you. Nasty girls such as yourself only deserve a firm hand.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. You slip your fingers inside of your dripping cunt and start pumping your them in and out — but your trousers are in the way, and you quickly unzip them and pull them down your thighs along with your underwear, and you’re now sitting bare in a pool of piss. You spread your legs as far as you can as you continue to fuck yourself, hitting your clit with your palm every time you pump your fingers into your aching pussy.

“Look at you — so desperate. I don’t even have to touch you for you to fall apart. Such a dirty fucking slut.”

“Ah — yes, yes, Mistress,” you whine. You’re so close.

“Look me in the eyes when you come. I want you to know who you belong to — every orgasm you have is mine, do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Mistress, ah—” you breathe out as your eyes meet her icy blue ones.

“Come for me,” she says, her voice cold and stern and uncompromising as she watches you, her gaze baring your soul. You are unable to hide from her — she is witnessing you at your lowest, in a puddle of piss rutting against your hand like an animal, and yet she never averts her gaze. She disarms you, renders you unable to do anything other than obey. You belong to her.

And you love it.

You keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you, fast and hard and intense. For you, for you, it’s for you, you think as ecstasy overwhelms you and the only thing you’re aware of are her blue eyes, watching you, judging you and absolving you at the same time. You keep fucking yourself through the aftershocks, mumbling, “I’m yours, Mistress, it’s for you,” as you slowly come down from your high, unsure if anything you say is intelligible.

She is silent — she waits for you to come to your senses.

A wave of shame hits you as soon as the orgasmic euphoria is gone. Tears pool in your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You want to hide your face in your hands or your shirt, but you’re covered in piss and it disgusts you. “I’m disgusting,” you cry, tears blurring your vision. You can’t look her in the eye.

“You aren’t,” she says as she takes off her gloves, and you want to believe her, but you can’t.

You cry and you cry, and she helps you clean up. You shower together, and she wordlessly holds you while you cry, and then helps you put on clean spare clothes that you keep at her place for occasions such as this one. You cry some more, and she caresses your hair and lets you cling to her.

She isn’t a very gentle woman — you learned that quickly — but there is something about her presence that comforts you. You feel safe around her. She says few words, but they are picked carefully — and she won’t argue with the mean voices in your head. She says what she means exactly once.

“I’m glad you trusted me with this,” she says as she bids you goodbye at the door. You say nothing — you just hug her. She tenses up, not expecting it, but then she relaxes and hugs you tighter. She smells like citrus shower gel, and you know you do too. You look forward to lying in your bed tonight smelling like her.

“See you next week, Jane,” you murmur into her chest. She pulls back and kisses your forehead — a rare show of affection.

“Take care,” she says.

As you walk back home, you feel pleasantly light.

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @opheliauniverse @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @zephyr-is-tired @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @softshrimpy @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld

#kink!week #7 days of kink #jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #gwendoline christie

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arielburrow · 9 months

Text

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

This little blurb of a fic can be considered a part 2 to California Love. You can probably guess what song this is based on 🩷

Your eye lids shut as you take a quiet breath in and out. You hear the clicking of shoes from the bridesmaids lined up infront of you. You hear last minute chatter and stressed out wedding planners rip at each other. It feels like just yesterday Joe was on one knee asking for your hand.

In reality it’s been 9 months of grueling wedding planning that deep down you loved every second of. Cake testing, color matching, dress tailoring, all of it intertwined to make the day that finally is at your fingertips. You smile to yourself as you tune out the commotion around you, in just a few moments those daunting wooden doors would creak open to reveal the long walkway 6 year old you had always dreamed of strutting.

The noise quiets down and you watch as the doors open, allowing for the bridal party to begin their walk. You watch as each one departs, you being able to see everyone, but no one able to see you yet.

The chords of the piano play a quiet, slow chorus that brings a smile to everyone’s face as they watch each bridesmaid make their way to the end of the isle, arms linked with the groomsmen.

You take one last breath as you and your father finally approach the beginning of the isle. You feel the weight of your veil trailing behind you as you lift your head immediately met with those icy blue eyes. Your breath hitches as you watch him mirror your actions.

First a slight jaw drop, and then you both smile.

You listen as the piano chords change, prompting the small crowd to rise as you watch every head swivel to you in awe. You watch as your mother brings her hand to her mouth, she had already cried twice seeing you in the dress, but it still took her breath away like it was the first time.

The cue of the song prompts you to begin your walk. Though it lacks any words, the simple sound of each piano key is recognized by every soul in the venue.

You can hear the lyrics in your head.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

You lock your view on Joe and feel as if your heart stops as you recognize a sight you had only seen a few times.

A tearful Joe.

Forever and ever.

His smile remains, but the tiny droplets stream down his face as he quietly laughs to himself in awe of the sight in-front of him. You notice his groomsmen chuckle to themselves, noticing the usually stoic man, all mush. You scan down to your bridesmaids, your sisters and your three best friends. Each one holds a warm smile that washed that last little bit of wedding nerve away.

The sounds echoing through the garden bring you to some sort of high. A euphoric feeling where all of your nerves and worries dissipate, and your only focus is meeting the man across the room.

You always knew it would be Joe, but at this exact moment, you were still in shock that this was happening. You notice the grip you have on your bouquet of flowers and the small taps of your heels, bringing you more into the moment. This was really happening.

Take me out, and take me home.

Forever and ever.

You smile to yourself thinking back to when you finally decided on a song for this exact moment. You had multiple options, but nothing sounded quiet right instrumental. That was until you heard this exact piano version of your most favorite song, you couldn’t resist.

You’re just feet away from Joe now, feet away from the rest of your life intertwined with the only man whose ever been able to make you feel like you were flying.

You turn to your father to hug him as he wipes a tear, you then turn back to Joe, both of you shooting a smile.

Darling, you’re my, my, my, my,

Lover.

#joe burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #AMfic

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 1 year

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Dear @staff. Community Labels are killing Creators and Fandoms and you are doing nothing about it…

In theory, the Community Labels seemed like a great new system to allow more Mature Content to come back to Tumblr. It would allow more freedom for creators to post and express themselves however they wanted!

But in practice, the feature, as it is now, is absolutely awful! As soon as a post get a Label slapped on, it’s basically dead. Shadowbanned! Censored! Nonexistent!

The reasoning is that you made Community Labels a forced feature for everyone, meaning that every single blog on this platform automatically has Mature Content set to “hide.”

A lot of people don’t know that this feature exists and are missing out on a lot of posts from their favorite creators.

Now, if I understand correctly, the reasoning for why Community Labels are being implemented in the first place is because Apple is anti-porn, and there’s a risk that Tumblr will be banned from the App Store.

Fine. Let’s go from there. Tumblr needs to have this new feature in place to remain functional, but there has to be some changes made for it to still be enjoyable to continue posting on this platform.

1. Change the default for Mature Content from “hide” to “blur.” For accounts that are over 18+, of course. This way, people can still see that there is a post for them to view, and from there on, they can choose if they wish to click on the post and view its content.

2. Make it easier to change the Community Label settings within the app.

3. Make regular pop-ups to all users over 18 that lets them know that they can change their settings on how they wish to view Mature Content.

4. Now, the most important one: remove the ability for other users to suggest a Community Label. This option has 100% been proven to be weaponized and abused towards writers. People are deliberately going around and reporting all kinds of posts. Yes, even the ones that don’t contain any smut.

I would like to point out some issues and concerns with the Community Labels.

Whatever system you have in place to detect Mature Content is doing an awful job at distinguishing between what’s fluff and what’s smut. Content that has no or very limited Mature Content in them are getting flagged left, right, and center.

When you get an alert that a post requires a Community Label, do you actually double-check the post, or do you just let the A.I put one on?

Where do you draw the line of smut? Is kissing safe? Or does that require a Label? Is simple touching safe? Or does that require a Label? Is mentioning and talking about sex, but not actually doing the act itself safe? Or does that require a Label? Is showering together without there being sex safe? Or does that require a Label?

Dear @staff. We are tired. With already low engagement for all writers throughout Tumblr, this new feature seems to be the last blow to our creativity, and we are just tired. We are tired of having our creations that we’ve spent days, weeks, months, years be censored. We are tired of having everything that we put our heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into die within a few hours.

I’m hoping you guys will start listening to us, because I wouldn’t be surprised if more and more people leave this site…

@changes @wip @support @engineering

#community labels #reblog to spread awareness #my post

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redfurrycat · 9 months

Text

🧛🤠🦊🐓🧚‍♂️Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters Fic Recs🧚‍♂️🐓🐺🤠🧛

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: AnadoraBlack, Bahjrc, Barnes_Brain, Caitlin44, Dalearden, Drhorrible, Earthangel_44, Elizabethgee, Fuddlewuddle, Hangmanbradshaw, LadyLanera, MadeItUp, McDanno50, ReformedTsundere, ToukoJalorda003, WaffleToaster, Winterbitch, Youlookgood.

> Ghoost & Ethereal Beings

A Shift in Feelings by Fuddlewuddle {T}

/Bobcat-shifter/

Bradley Bradshaw has a secret that only one person alive--Mav--knows about. He's a shifter and can transform into a Bobcat. When they all return alive from the mission, and Bradley shifts for the first time in years, he's realises that there's one other person he wants to know his secret. Here's hoping Jake Seresin won't live up to his call sign and leave Bradley hanging out to dry when he finds out Bradley is the big cat that's spread out on top of him whilst he's slept, or when Bradley tells him his cat views Jake as his Mate.

meet me in the woods tonight by Caitlin44 {E}

/Werewolf/

What followed was probably the most emotionally draining hour of Bradley's life since his mother's death. But in the end, the air was cleared between them, and he'd ended up curled into Mav's side, all parts of him once again connected to his surrogate father and his Pack, the connection between them all restored and open wide. He had laid there in almost wonder, exploring the connections he hadn't felt in over ten years, feeling the different links that led to the people he loved, that now formed a pack more extensive than the one he'd left.

Welcome to the Family by LadyLanera {T}

/Vampire/

Bradley has the rest of his life to figure out when he's ready to die as a human and be reborn as a vampire. When tragedy strikes, though, he realizes that maybe he doesn't have that long after all.

(these moments given) a gift from time by dalearden {_}

/Winged/

He never could have imagined Hangman being willing to groom anyone, much less him, but it turns out Hangman has hidden depths.

With Teeth and Claws (Love Drags me Deep) by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

/Modified Form/

Rooster hadn’t exactly asked for Hangman to keep bugging him about his Modified form. He really hadn’t. …He actively avoided it, if he was honest. But now that wasn’t an option, and he was facing the consequences. On the bright side, Hangman seemed just as surprised as he had been - since he had never seen Hangman’s form, either.

a spoonful of sugar (helps the medicine go down) by bahjrc {G}

/Cat-shifter/

Bradley Bradshaw is a tired college student coming home for summer break. All he wants to do is come home, catch up on sleep, help his family's business and maybe figure out what the hell he's going to do with his life. He's not expecting a mysterious man and his weird cat that just moved into the apartment down the street to become a thing in his life. And he's definitely not expecting that golden cat to be such a pain on his ass.

baby, I'm howlin' for you by hangmanbradshaw {E}

/Wolf & Fox/

His smirk widened. He may not have been happy about this, but he could appreciate that Bradley gave as good as he got. “I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.” Bradley stared at him, expression battling between annoyance and what appeared to be a slight amount of amusement and intrigue. Jake continued, “Say, how does a werewolf get the nickname Rooster anyhow?” Bradley raised an eyebrow. “That’s none of your business.”

The Prince and His Knight by McDanno50

/Lycan/

On A Dreary Night {E}

Jake felt his heart thump quicker, galloping in his chest, as the clicking of claws grew closer. Heavy breaths not his own let Jake know he was no longer alone. He remained still even as natural fear urged him to look over his shoulder to gauge the threat. But there was no real danger because Jake knew in his soul that he was safe with the monstrous wolf-like creature that lurked in the flickering shadows. The beast who terrified the men, women, and children not born of Miramar was hardly a monster to Jake. The bright light of day sees the Crown Prince of Miramar, Jacob Seresin, protected by his personal knight: a Lycan named Rooster. But at night, Jake loses himself to pleasure by Rooster's wolf form.

A Speckled Rooster Crowed {G}

Lycans had few offspring, litters born every ten years. The last Lycan pups included Julian’s own knight, Cyclone. And now it was Jake’s turn to choose a knight – his very own Lycan pup to raise and train as his personal bodyguard. He’d never known something so exciting yet terrifying. The time has come for Prince Jake to select his knight. Five pups vie for his attention, but one young Lycan seems a bit preoccupied with a fowl enemy.

Of Sex and Flowers {E}

If Heaven truly existed, Jake was sure his would be exactly like this. With Jake and his knight Rooster, alive and together in this peaceful place. Nothing outside of the meadow mattered when they were here: Jake was not royalty and Rooster was not a Lycan. They could play pretend and just be two men hopelessly in love with no duties and no secrets. Jake sneaks out of the castle to spend some private time with Rooster in a meadow. Their relationship will change once Jake becomes the Crown Prince so they say goodbye in the only way they know how.

the shapes of love by winterbitch {T}

/Shapeshifter/

sink your teeth into me (keep me)

Rooster doesn't need to know what animal Hangman shifts into, but he sure wants to find out. It's just another piece of the man he's hopelessly in love with, and he wants to know everything, no matter how much his friends tease him. Through a series of events, he finally finds out, and maybe gets more than expected Or shifter au where rooster is a wolf, hangman is [redacted], there's a LOT of pining, and icemav are cute together (ice is a tiger, mav is a fennec). they get their happy end

I see forever in your eyes

Having gotten together (and engaged in the same day), Rooster and Hangman don't get any less annoying with their behaviour. Rooster would even argue that their friends are more annoyed with them now, but he's too deliriously happy to care. He has the love of his life by his side, his friends surrounding him, and he's getting married. Life is great (and it's about to get even better) Or shifter au with smitten puppy rooster, disgustingly in love hangster, some background icemav and ANOTHER proposal

Lagoon by elizabethgee {E}

/Merman/

So it turns out that even though Bradley spends most of his time on land as a human, he is a shifter, and he he can shift into a merman. Jake has a lot of thoughts about it. And he's come up with a plan.

Lost Boy by Earthangel_44 {E}

/Pixie/

Jake has to face the consequences after he stole from the pirate.

When the Waters Run Deep (Trust Them not to Pull You Under) by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

/Siren/

In all of Jake’s life, all he had ever wanted was to be a marine biologist. He adored the ocean and it’s inhabitants more than anything else. He thought he had everything he’d ever wanted. Until his boss sent him on a mission that he’d almost died on - forcing him to realign his perspective, and realize perhaps there was something else he wanted, after all.

Darkest Little Paradise by hangmanbradshaw {E}

/Demon/

Bradley never thought he'd be dealing with another round of hospital visits, especially not for the only family he had left. When he stumbles upon a book at his rare books store, he finds himself at a crossroads there may be no turning back from, but hey...don't blame him, love made him crazy. Or, Bradley *take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man* Bradshaw needs to save Mav so he decides to make a deal. Enter Jake. Everything changes in ways he never could have imagined.

Up in the skies by AnadoraBlack {M}

/Dragon/

Bradley hasn't been on Tarakona in more than ten years. It's time he goes home. Besides, at 30 years old, there's next to no chance a dragon egg would hatch for him, right?

My Better Half by WaffleToaster {E}

/Cambion/

“You don’t know what you want, Bradshaw. You don’t want me, you may think you do, but you don’t.” When Bradley finds out about Jake's deepest and darkest secret, he begins to understand the meaning behind those words. He just never imagined it was going to take magic, pheromones, a life or death situation and sex for him to win Jake back.

What is Past is Prologue. by Barnes_Brain {T}

/Vampire/

Everyone in life has secrets. The man at the bar, the woman serving drinks, the vampire who’s currently the COMPACFLT and the legendary pilot who is the same are not exempt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin, however, might have the biggest of them all. So when his secret is revealed, so many others follow. This of course, leads to complete chaos for the poor steward trying to do his best.

young savage things by drh0rrible {E}

/Vampire/

After a year working as Jake Seresin's PA, there were three things Bradley was absolutely positive about. First, Bradley was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him-and he didn't know how potent that part might be-that thirsted for Jake's blood. And third, Bradley was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

pumpkins and whiskers by youlookgood {T}

/Cat-shifter/

Needing a fresh start, Bradley moves from his old childhood home in San Diego to a far away small town. It's nice enough, he supposes. The residents certainly have that small-town autumn charm going for them. His new next-door neighbor's pretty nice too. What's less than nice is said neighbor's roommate, and his equally annoying orange cat.

Stuffin' That Muffin by WaffleToaster {E}

/Tentacle Monster/

Jake thinks it could have been a dream, but his distended stomach makes it obvious that everything had in fact really happened. But now weeks had passed and the eggs had dissolved, making him feel depressed in a sense and empty. And so that makes him ask, “What does it take to convince you for round two?”

Evil Be Gone by MadeItUp {E}

/Demon/

Training on the F/A-18 is everything he’s ever wanted, but Bradley’s dream becomes a nightmare when a new recruit joins the Golden Eagles. Blond hair, green eyes and a smirk so wicked he could rival the devil, Jake Seresin is everything Bradley hates – arrogant, brilliant and an unrelenting asshole. It’s almost as if he’s been sent there as Bradley’s own personal demon… All Bradley’s seen of the man so far is the back of his head – dirty blond hair cut short and sharp to the nape of his neck. At Nija’s invitation, Seresin turns to smile at the room, hand coming up in a lazy salute, his grin as sharp, as calculated, as the cut of his hair. His eyes are green, his dimples deep, and he’s far too pretty to be trusted.

The Halloween Special by ReformedTsundere {E}

/Tentacle Monster/

"Bradley?" Jake calls out, getting a hand on the knob even as his heart rate spikes. The sound of sliding limbs and another hard thump make Jake's choice for him. Without further announcement, he throws open the bathroom door, only faintly sure he's prepared for what's behind. He is, of course, incorrect. Jake has a series of thoughts that tangle together, crashing like a group of cars in multiple head-on collisions as his brain and body try to make sense of what he's seeing. It's as though he blinks through the five stages of grief, standing deer-eyed and petrified in the open door of Bradley's bathroom.

Knot Your Typical Meet-Cute by ReformedTsundere {E}

/Werewolf/

There are no written laws saying that human Jake Seresin can't be a naval pilot, but that doesn't mean the social status of 'less durable meat bag' doesn't have its boot on his throat all the same. He's been a damn good serviceman so far, exceeded all his superior's expectations of him. But the simple fact of the matter is he doesn't have the connections to get him into the program or the genetics. Wolf-heavy and wolf-maintained, it's been nearly impossible to get his file on the desk of the fleet commanders who could streamline him to flight school. But if he does The Run, if he bags himself a wolf high enough on one food chain or another… it's his best shot.

Like Cats and Dogs by ReformedTsundere {T}

/Shapeshifter/

Where shifting is a sign of trust and love, indifferent Bradley realizes only when it's too late to stop his quick temper he might care more than he thought that Jake hasn't shifted in front of him even after dating for almost a year.

#Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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