#never ever worry about matching length

[lxnarphase]

guide you all the way down, be your nightlight

up to the challenge : ⌞no nut november⌝ edition [ pt 1 - pt 3 - pt 4 ]

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : nanami kento + h. hiromi + k. choso

☾₊‧⁺...cw : fingerfucking, squirting, dirty talking, begging, deep throating condom breaking, excessive cum, riding, kento being lovey-dovey, hiromi nearly loses his mind, choso being whiny and desperate, reader is on birth control but choso is just worried about the mess of no condom, choso's part is very long and indulgent

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : to the anon who requests choso and nanami, i hope you don't mind i threw higuruma in here too, i really wanted to include him since he gives the vibes of being in the middle between nanami and choso 🖤 thank you so much for the request !

✧ n. kento lasts : entire month

you were the one to bring this up to kento, mentioning in passing that gojo wouldn't shut up about this 'challenge' he and geto were going to participate in. with a hum, he asks if you were trying to suggest something to him. if you wanted him to try this little 'game,' he wouldn't mind...as long as you'd let him pamper you all month. and he really does; he's breezing through each day as though nothing is wrong. kento's still as sweet as ever, constantly cuddling you, taking you out on formal dates, and telling you how much he loves you. he manages well the entire November, only showing weakness whenever you try to tease him. but of course, if you're going to try and break his streak, he just spreads you out on the bed, fingerfucking you until you squirt all over his hand. eventually, the whole month flies by, and kento genuinely feels relief that it's over. but he's a little shocked when he comes home, and you're dressed in a pretty, yellow matching lingerie set as you drag him into the bedroom that's filled with candles and roses...he pampered you all month, now it was his turn to be pampered.

"kentooo~" having you between his legs like this, cooing his name so sweetly, causes a shiver to shoot down his spine. you look so adorable, so gorgeous on your knees and pressing kisses up and down his length. those pretty kiss marks would be burned into his mind for weeks. but what makes his stomach flip the most? is that look in your eye. that needy, desperate, loving gaze...it made his cock twitch in your hands. "darling, please," he sighs, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. you smile at him, you fucking smile at him like you aren't peppering his cock in kisses. with a little nip to his thumb, you giggle, nuzzling into his palm. "just focus on me, okay, ken?" he nods, sucking in a breath when your lips press against the tip of his dick. "fuck, princess, god, when you suck me down like that-!" the calm, sweet environment was gone now, with the way you sloppily sucked his cock. it was so fucking messy, your lipstick smearing all over his shaft as your manicured hand cupped his balls, softly massaging them as you felt your spit dripping down to your hand. "yes, yes, just like that, princess, k-keep going. oh, you're so fucking beautiful with my cock in your throat, 'm gonna cum soon in that pretty throat," he oh-so gorgeously moans for you, throwing his head back as he tries not to buck up into your hot mouth. for being such a refined, put-together man, kento loves when you give him such messy head, seeing how your lipstick is smeared everywhere, your chin dripping with precum and saliva. you could feel him throb in your throat just from the view. your kento is so sweet like this, doing his best not to fuck your mouth. but could anyone blame him when your mouth is so hot and wet? god, he never wants you to stop, not when you make him feel so greedy. each time you take him down your throat, kento swears he's going to cum, his head lolling back again as he lets out a deep groan of your name when you take all of him down like it's nothing. he wanted nothing more than to grab you by your hair and fuck your mouth like he wanted...but he wouldn't. no, he's going to keep letting his darling pamper him how she wants...but when he keeps just moaning your name so sweetly, begging you to let him cum... "p-please, honey, I'm so close, let me cum, my pretty girl, let me cum, I'll do anything-!" how could you say no to that?

✧ h. hiromi lasts : entire month

by the end of the first week, hiromi realizes how much he fucking regretted doing this. dealing with his cases has him so stressed he's surprised he didn't go completely grey. every time he comes home, he just wants to love on you, his darling little wife, but he can’t because he’s already dedicated to beating this foolish challenge. so while he can't cum, he is sure to take his frustrations out on you. but it literally crushes him each time he makes you cum, whether it be with his hands, mouth, or dick, and you look at him with those cute pleading eyes, softly whining for him to let you take care of him and make him cum too.

you are too cute for your own good, nearly causing hiromi to cave in several times as the month progressed. even you can see how it was affecting him, as he gets more and more desperate to make you cum, his eyes always zeroed in on your face to ensure your feeling good. he was a prideful, strong man, but fuck, he was so frustrated and pent up that he started to beg you to cum. "you're close, right? i can feel it, sweet thing. just listen to your pussy, she's so wet and sloppy, just from my fingers," he groans into your ear, sounding so wrecked and needy, and he hasn't even touched himself once. but you can hear it, the annoyance in his tone. hiromi is so close to breaking, to giving up and you nearly beg him again to just fuck you, but your eyes catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. 12:27 am. it was december. he did it, he fucking made it, and you were desperately clawing at his wrist, trying to get his attention. "'romi, 'r-'romi! 's december, you made it, please, pull it out, t-take your dick out, 'romi, need you in me so bad!" with a quick glance to the clock to make sure you weren't fucking with him, hiromi lets out a delirious laugh, undoing his pants enough to pull his throbbing cock out, and he easily folds you in half, sliding his tip through the sopping wet mess between your thighs. "i made it, didn't i? i made it. so now you're gonna reward me, right?" you squeal when you feel the tip of his cock get caught on the entrance of your hole and nudge in juuust enough for you to cry out his name, gushing from the little stimulation it gives you. "look at you...I've been neglecting this little cunt, my fingers aren't enough, my mouth isn't enough. no, no, she needs t' be stuffed with a thick, fat cock to make 'er cream...isn't that right, angel?"

✧ k. choso lasts : 30 minutes

choso was stupid. he was so fucking stupid for even thinking he could do this challenge. he literally heard about it from yuuji before but had no idea what it meant. so here he was, looking at the calendar on his phone. it was mid-morning, and 5 minutes ago, he decided to do this challenge. choso should've remembered that he was a desperate man when it came to you because the second you come out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes as you sleepily greet your boyfriend, he knows he's fucked. but seeing you in his black t-shirt and likely nothing else and choso let out a shaky sigh. just looking at you has his mind racing with all the different ways he wants to have you. you’d look really cute in his lap with a blissed-out smile on your face. with a needy whine, he stands up, dragging you back to the bedroom as he greedily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and moaning against your lips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, 'm sorry, you look s' cute, so pretty, m-my pretty baby, y-your cunt is sucking me in—!" choso is a mess, fucking into you from behind. his hands grip your hips, keeping your ass up in the air as his cock abuses your insides, his hot, thick tip smushing against your cervix. he's fucking you into the mattress, his moans mixing with yours and those sweet, wet squelching sounds coming from your pussy, sucking his cock back in with each pull out of you. "moan louder, please? m-move your head, stop muffling yourself w-with the pillow," he whines, his body hovering over yours. you can feel drool dripping from his mouth onto your back, and just the feeling makes your eyes roll back. knowing he was so needy and desperate just to get his dick wet inside of you that he was drooling all over you made your walls clench so hard around him. "c-cho, 's too fucking deep, b-baby, 'm gonna cum," you sob, hands clawing into the pillowcase. instantly, you feel choso grip you harder, barely pulling out of you as his hips slap against yours in a bruising fashion, your body jolting up the bed with how hard he was fucking you. "don' run, please,, don' run from it," he whimpers, choking on a sob as he feels himself twitch inside your gummy walls, his hips stuttering against yours when you keen, pushing back against him when he hits a spot that feels so good. "fuck, f-fuck, 'm cumming, your pussy's so good, so wet, so fuckin' hot, 'm sorry, 'm cumming-!" despite his orgasm rushing over him, he keeps fucking you, his eyes rolling back as he moans your name over and over again, begging you for...something. he doesn't notice the sudden change, but you do, suddenly feeling warm and full inside as he keeps pounding into you. your eyes snap open, and you whine, turning a little to press your hand against his chest. "cho, h-honeyyyy! t-the condom, you broke the condom, you're cummin' in me!' you can't lie, it feels so good, and you feel your head swimming as he pumps thick seed into your needy cunt. it's another minute until he's done, and he starts to pull out but sees how creamy his cock is...and the way the condom is ripped at the top. he...he just came in you. his thick cum was starting to drip out of you, and your hand came up to press against your hole, not wanting to drip it onto the mattress. but he only registered it as you wanting to keep it inside...you wanted his cum? you wanted him to fill up that pretty pussy? he didn't even realize he was speaking out loud, quickly peeling off the broken condom and lining back up with your creamy cunt. "i-i don't mind it, choso, b-but t-take the condom off b-before you-chooo, babyyy, w-wait, that's so deep-!" "s-shhh, s'okay, you can take it, take it for me, 's okay, i always make it fit, i-it fits so good, pretty cunt, 's all mine, 'm gonna cum 'n you over and over again until your a creamy little mess, baby, i-i'll eat it outta you too, promise, promise, just let me stuff you, please!" hm, maybe he'd tell you later this was supposed to be a challenge...maybe not and just pretend like he needed you real bad today.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[mypoisonedvine]

Ok 1 I love your Halloween theme, and 2 can I request a delightfully unhinged threesome between estranged twins, jackson and Dr. Crane 👀

oh my i wonder who could've given you such a ridiculously thirsty idea!!! definitely wasn't me ummm anyways this turned out to be another full length fic, so. yeah.

𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎 | jonathan crane x reader x jackson rippner

length: 3.6k

warnings: NONCON SMUT (dark as fuck, 18+ only, read the warnings), kidnapping, implied stalking, yandere!jonathan, threesome with oral m receiving and breeding kink, housewife kink, slight corruption kink, possibly inexperienced jonathan??

It was eerie, seeing his twin on the other side of the doorway; it wasn’t quite like looking in a mirror, but it was closer than anything else was.

The differences were obvious, and had only become stronger over time: the hair, the glasses, even the way they dressed. But the biggest difference between the brothers was their smiles… in fact, Jackson was wearing that tilted, toothy grin already. “Well, look at you,” he greeted smugly, “Doctor Crane.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d really come,” Jonathan admitted quietly.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever call me again,” Jackson laughed as he stepped inside, despite never actually having been invited in. “Nice place, Doc— guess they pay you pretty good at the looney bin.”

“We, uh, try not to use that term,” Jonathan mumbled as he watched Jackson roam the apartment, getting a little nervous that he might break one of the more expensive decorations or artifacts.

“So, what’s this problem you needed my help with?” Jackson wondered as he spun on his heel to face his brother. “Must be a pretty sticky situation you’ve got yourself in if you have to ring up your big brother.”

“You’re only four—"

“Four minutes older, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, “but somebody had to be first.”

“I need… advice,” Jonathan finally answered, “regarding a sort of… sensitive situation.”

“You can spare the foreplay, Jonny, this isn’t my first time,” Jackson smirked. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Nothing… happened, really,” he sighed, “I just… there’s someone that needs to be… dealt with.”

“If you want a hit, I don’t actually do that,” Jackson explained, “but I can call somebody for you—“

“Not a hit, no,” Jonathan shook his head, “the opposite, really… I need her kept alive.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Oh? A ladyfriend you want protected?”

“Uh, sure,” Jonathan mumbled awkwardly, “but I’ll take care of that. It’s her, um, footprint, if you will. Her old identity, and all that— I need her to disappear, so to speak. W-well, she already disappeared… I just need people to stop looking for her.”

“You know, you’re always full of surprises, Jonny,” Jackson laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have this woman in your basement.”

“I don’t have a basement,” Jackson replied.

“That’s… not the part I was expecting you to deny…”

Soon enough, Jonathan escorted Jackson to his bedroom, where you were tied to one of the bedposts by your wrists, curled up in a shaking little ball, watching with wide eyes as the two men entered the room. Jackson realized you probably hadn't seen anyone other than Jonathan since getting here-- that, or you were just thinking oh fuck, there's two of them?!

“Why’d you dress her up like that?” Jackson snorted, admiring the vintage-style dress and heels, with a matching set of pearl earrings and necklace. “I didn’t know you were so… traditional.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting a bit pink. “Can we just focus on the present issue, please?”

"And what a lovely issue it is," Jackson cooed as he stepped closer to you, admiring you with a tilted head.

You watched him approach with wide eyes, finally speaking in a broken whisper. “Please,” you choked out, “help me— he’s keeping me here, I think he’s gonna kill me—“

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Jackson smiled, “he’s real sweet on you. I’d just be worried about whatever freaky shit he’s into.”

“Well, as you can see, she’s not adjusting very well,” Jonathan sighed. “I thought my drugs would help— and she’s pretty obedient when she’s been given a large dose, so I was sort of right— but I can’t keep her high all day, she’ll build a tolerance. And I know her case is going to get a little too much attention, if there isn’t some kind of closure for the police or the family sometime soon. I mean, a beautiful, promising young medical student? Gone without a trace? It’s cable news catnip.”

“You’re right about that,” Jackson agreed. “There’s a pretty face perfect for the papers.”

As Jackson reached to tilt your chin, petting the line of your jaw, Jonathan slapped his hand away. “Hey, hands to yourself,” Crane warned, “she’s mine.”

“Okay, Mr. Defensive,” Jackson widened his eyes, raising his hands like he was perfectly innocent. “How sloppy were you? Are they gonna find any evidence that brings them here?”

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan sighed, “but you can’t be too sure. Even without evidence, she took one of my classes, so if they get desperate enough they can certainly trace her to me.”

Jackson sighed. “That’s tricky,” he nodded. “And it gives us two options.”

“Which are?”

“The happy ending, and the sad ending,” Jackson explained. “Happy ending: I get one of my little computer nerd friends to fake a plane ticket to somewhere exotic. Send a postcard to a friend. Just like that, she’s absconded from her old life, escaped the pressure of med school, and everyone thinks she’s off somewhere getting her groove back or whatever.”

“And the sad ending?”

“Bloody clothing planted by the woods, with a tip that somebody saw her hiking,” he shrugged. “Big bad wolf got to her. Simple as that. That one’s handy because no one’s gonna expect her to come back… and you can have her all to yourself, forever.”

Jonathan bit his lip, obviously excited by the idea. “I'm guessing that will require taking a sample from her?"

"Not too much," Jackson promised, "you're a doctor, you can do it safely."

"She's scared enough of me as it is," Jonathan sighed. "I thought she would... take to it a little faster."

"What, you thought she would like getting kidnapped?"

"I thought she would appreciate how well I can take care of her," Jonathan clarified.

"Oh, Jonny," Jackson laughed, "you haven't learned a thing about women since the last time I saw you, huh?"

Jonathan didn't even have the heart to deny it.

"When they ask if they look fat in something-- you just say no, don't even look, okay? It's like DARE: Just. Say. No." Jackson informed his brother sternly. "And when they say they're not hungry and don't want anything, just order some fries anyway or she's gonna end up with half your entrée. And most of all-- you can't forget this one-- they really dislike being kidnapped and held in captivity."

Jonathan crossed his arms. "I knew that," he announced defensively.

"Let me ask you this," Jackson began with a twinkle in his eye. "Have you used her yet?"

Jonathan shuddered a little, looking embarrassed as he looked at you and then to the floor. "J-just once..." he admitted. "That was... a lapse in restraint. I had wanted to wait until she was more comfortable, but..."

"But you just couldn't help yourself with a sweet little thing like this in your bed, huh?" Jackson finished. "I get it. And she looks cute when she's scared."

You shuddered under Jackson's hungry stare, and he winked at you. "So, you'll take care of it?" Jonathan reminded him. "Happy ending or sad ending, whatever you think is best."

"Well, I'm always a fan of a happy ending," Jackson smirked. "You know speaking of: I figure I can give you a good deal on this whole thing... you know, since you're family."

"Alright," Jonathan nodded.

“I’ll make sure her case is closed… if you let me take her for a spin.”

It seemed to take Jonathan a moment to realize what that meant, before he laughed incredulously. “No,” he asserted, “absolutely not.”

“Oh, don’t be so insecure,” Jackson pouted, “she’ll still be yours when I’m done with her. You can keep her for the rest of your life— I’m just asking for one night.”

"I can pay you very well for your time, Jackson," Jonathan promised.

"Eh, money's boring," Jackson shrugged.

"If I recall correctly, women tend to bore you pretty easily as well," Jonathan accused with a frown.

"Sheesh, you kidnap one woman and you start getting all judgmental that I haven't settled down," Jackson rolled his eyes. "I don't have a lot of time for anything serious, that's all. In fact, I barely have time for anything these days. That's why I figure I can help you break in Mrs. Crane over there."

"I don't need any help," Jonathan promised.

"Except for the part where, if I don't help you, you're probably gonna get caught with a missing woman tied to your bed," Jackson reminded him.

Jonathan sighed, clearly realizing the choice he had to make.

“C'mon, just a little favor for your favorite twin brother? You can stay and make sure I don’t do anything you wouldn’t… approve of,” Jackson rolled his eyes, “you prude.”

"She's innocent," Jonathan breathed, "that's what I liked about her-- it's why I had to bring her here. You'll... you'll ruin her. I can't let you do that."

“Seems like you don’t really have a choice,” Jackson noticed, lowering his voice and leaning in closer to Jonathan.

There was a pause, and finally Jackson turned to leave the room as he patted Jonathan on the back.

"Get a good lawyer, buddy," he offered as his final piece of advice.

But before he could take another step, Jonathan relented with a sigh: “Make it quick.”

“Hey,” Jackson shrugged with a grin as he shed his jacket and tossed it aside, “no promises.”

He all but leapt onto the bed, crawling up to you as you whined and shrunk away.

“Did y’hear that, babydoll? Jonny said it’s my turn to play with you,” he purred.

As you tried to shrink away, he grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you down, forcing you onto your back and keeping your tied wrists above your head as the rope when taut.

He growled as he laid on top of you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can make it good for you,” he breathed, “if you behave. It’ll be so much better than whatever my idiot baby brother does to you— promise.”

Jackson's hands crawled up your skirt, and he bit his lip as you kicked your legs in protest.

"Be good, baby," he warned you sharply. "Good girls get a treat... you know what bad girls get?"

You didn't seem that invested in an answer, but he continued anyways as he lowered his voice and spoke by your ear.

"Bad girls get fucked up the ass," he whispered, giving a quick little kiss to the side of your face; suddenly, you relaxed a bit under him and stopped resisting so much. "That's a good girl," he praised, spreading your legs a bit and petting them until he reached higher and found you totally bare under the dress. "Oh my, Jonny didn't even give you panties to wear? Poor baby..."

Jonathan shuddered and crossed his arms, looking away with his head and yet unable to actually look anywhere else but the bed. He was trying to figure out how his brother had gotten you to behave so quickly... when Jonathan had given in to temptation and forced himself on you, it was a constant battle to keep you down as you kicked and screamed and begged him to stop. Whether it was the sight before him now, or the memory of that night, Jonathan felt his cock twitch in his trousers.

Jackson sat up a bit, opening his own pants and sighing as he wrapped his hand around himself. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he purred as he held your legs open wide with his other hand. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun together, sweetheart."

He spit straight down onto you, smearing it around your opening with his tip, before pressing right up to your hole. He groaned loudly as he slid inside-- one long, slow stroke as he filled you. You whined and shut your eyes tight, but otherwise resisted the urge to struggle.

"Fuuuuck," Jackson purred, holding on tight to your hips as he simply buried himself inside you for a moment. "So tight, honey, Jesus."

Beginning to move, he laid himself down over you and kissed your neck again, moaning against your skin. You whimpered, back arching slightly under him, and he smiled when he felt you tense up as he thrusted into you just a little harder.

"Oh, baby, feel how deep I am?" he grunted. "Feel how good I'm stretching out that little hole? Fuck, keep squeezin' me like that and maybe I will make this quick..."

He grabbed your hips and yanked them up a bit, holding you right where he wanted you-- and sitting up again, so he could get just the perfect angle as he started fucking into you again. Normally he would build up a little more naturally before being so rough but, well, you weren't going anywhere... he could just use you and chase his own pleasure. That said, he still grinned proudly when you moaned suddenly, your head falling back and your back arching. That was when he decided that, even though he had no real obligation to make you come, he was going to anyways-- if for no other reason than to know that he could take total control of your body, and force you to an orgasm even unwillingly.

"Right there?" he taunted as you whined, giving you fast and hard thrusts right into the place that made you bite down on your lip. "Yeah, that's it-- you're getting so wet, honey, you feel that? Gonna soak my fucking cock, aren't you?"

He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, letting himself bask in the feeling for a moment. You made little sounds, obviously trying to hold yourself back, but the longer it went on the less you were able to fight it-- soon you were properly moaning, arching your back deeper, your walls clenching on him rhythmically as you came.

"Fuck, just like that," Jackson praised as he watched you give into it. "Just like that, baby, fucking cream all over me-- good girl."

Jonathan watched in astonishment as you quivered all over, nervously clearing his throat as he tried to conceal the throbbing erection in his pants-- and it seemed to remind Jackson that his brother was still standing nearby.

"What was that about your girl being innocent, Crane?" Jackson laughed. "'Cause she seems like a desperate fucking whore to me."

“H-how’d you make her do that?” Jonathan asked with a shaky whisper, licking his lips a bit as he watched you writhe against the mattress.

“Nothing to it, really,” Jackson smiled, “just gotta find that spot and beat the hell out of it. Here, I’ll show you.”

You whimpered as Jackson pulled out and slid his fingers inside you, curling them against the place that had become more sensitive than ever.

“Right here,” he explained, “you try it.”

He took his fingers out as Jonathan approached the bed— and you felt Jonathan’s fingers slide in a second later, a bit more hesitance to his movements. He let out a wavering sigh, and Jackson smiled.

“Feel the swollen part? Rub her there— hard.”

He curled his fingers slightly and you bit your lip.

“Harder,” Jackson instructed.

“I-I don’t want to hurt her…”

“Well, she needs it rough,” Jackson laughed, “so man up and make her come!”

You yelped when Jonathan harshly pressed into the spot, making your whole body shake as he started to thrust the digits in and out of you. “Wow,” Jonathan breathed as he watched you, his brother smiling proudly next to him.

"She can probably come again pretty fast," Jackson assumed, "you should try. See how fast you can make her scream again."

Jackson, meanwhile, moved to kneel by your head, slapping your face a little to cue you to open your mouth. He groaned as he rubbed his tip over your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself alongside his salty precum.

You unintentionally clench on Jonathan's fingers, and he smiled wide. "Like that?" he asked eagerly. "Are you gonna come again?"

"Just keep doing it," Jackson urged his brother before speaking to you again. "C'mon baby, you can take a little more."

Holding your hair, Jackson started to fuck your mouth a bit more earnestly, making Jonathan frown at him after you gagged a few times. "Be careful," he warned him, "don't hurt her."

"I know, I know," Jackson rolled his eyes. "But look at that mouth, Crane, don't you think it's just made to take cock?"

Jonathan couldn't exactly disagree, he'd fantasized about your mouth plenty of times. But now, he was much more focused on your pussy-- he was watching it closely, enraptured by the way his fingers moved in and out of it... and the way it responded, gripping him tighter and tighter.

"Go on, suck it," Jackson ordered you impatiently, smacking you on the cheek again to try to encourage you. You whimpered and hollowed your cheeks, blinking up at him as he grinned down at you. "Oh, pretty eyes-- I can tell why Jonny couldn't resist you..."

You moaned again, and Jackson raised an eyebrow as he looked down for a moment at what Jonathan was doing-- which was moving his fingers faster inside you, watching you whimper and writhe as you reached the edge again.

"Show me," Jonathan begged, "come for me-- come on my fingers."

It happened pretty quickly, and Jackson let you take a break from sucking him for a second so they could both enjoy your pretty moans as you creamed around Jonathan's fingers.

"O-oh, fuck," Jonathan gasped, "I can feel her... pulsing."

"Yeah," Jackson grinned, "really something, isn't it?"

"Fuck," Jonathan said again, taking his fingers out and suddenly climbing onto the bed. "Need to feel that on my cock."

"Atta boy," Jackson praised with a laugh.

Jonathan moaned loudly as he pushed inside you, your own reaction a muffled groan around Jackson's cock which he shoved between your lips again. "Oh, god," Jonathan whined, "you feel even better than I remember, angel-- fuck, I missed you so much."

He was even more desperate and impatient than before, fucking you quickly and eagerly even though you were far too sensitive for it after coming twice in a row.

Jackson pulled back out of your mouth, but held your head steady as he stroked himself rapidly. “Gonna coat that pretty face,” he growled, “keep your mouth open, baby, I’m close…”

You whimpered and tried to keep your throat shut, afraid to choke on his come while laying back like this, and after a few more moments he groaned loudly as ropes of come fell over your face and onto your waiting tongue. You grunted a little in surprise but just tried to squint your eyes in case some got too close, but the vast majority went into your mouth or over your cheek.

"Fuck," Jackson purred, milking his cock for every drop before finally taking his hand away and sinking back, looking down at you with a new redness and sheen of sweat to his face. "Good girl. You can swallow now baby-- oh, wait, let's make sure you get it all first."

He swiped up the come on your cheek with his thumb, feeding it to you as you closed your lips and swallowed his salty spend.

"I told you good girls get a treat," he grinned.

Jonathan, meanwhile, was panting and whimpering and clearly trying to hold himself back-- but the way he held you tight enough to bruise gave away how close to the edge he really was. "I can't wait," he finally admitted with a groan. "I need to come, angel-- I need to come inside, get you pregnant. Then we can be happy together."

Suddenly, he started to rub your sore clit with his thumb; and you jolted again, pulsing around him as he sighed and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, beautiful-- just like that, let me feel you come again, please. Then I can fill you so deep..."

"You can make her come one more time," Jackson assured, "she's so sensitive-- go on and come for him, baby, let him feel how hard you come..."

Though Jonathan was a little irritated by the way Jackson made it seem like a favor you were doing on his behalf, he couldn't complain when he felt you coming around him, slick walls pulsing so perfectly around him that he had to come with a loud, broken moan. He kept moving until he was sure he'd given you everything, heart racing as he imagined and hoped that he'd properly bred you this time.

Then, there was a silence. Not very long, but plenty nervous as the three of you caught your breath.

"Well... mazel tov," Jackson offered with an awkward laugh, getting up off the bed and getting himself back in order. "I'll call you when it's all taken care of, Jonny. You, uh... you have fun with her, alright? Call if you need anything or, you know... feel like sharing again..."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for that, Jackson," Jonathan sighed.

"Don't miss me too much, honey," Jackson winked at you as he slipped his jacket back on. "But feel free to think about me so you can get off while this guy's fucking you," he joked, motioning to his brother with a tilt of his head.

"Don't listen to him, angel," Jonathan cooed at you as Jackson finally left the room. You shivered a little as he trailed kisses all over your face and neck, holding you a little tighter. "You're all mine-- you finally know that now, don't you?

[howtofightwrite]

Have you read GRRM books? He claims swords needed to be “especially designed for women’s hands” how true is this?

About as true as all of those, “girl guns.” Because, as you know, a woman cannot hold a Glock unless it's pink or sky blue. Which is to say, not even remotely true.

You might get a situation where a child would be unable to operate a weapon designed for adults because the grip is too cumbersome, but even this is going to be something of an outlier. Even years later the Nicholas Cage's line from Lord of War (2005) sticks with me, when describing the AK he narrates, “...so simple a child could use it, and they do.”

Just like basically any other common grip you encounter in your daily life, from screwdrivers to steering-wheels and cell phones, selling smaller, or more colorful ones, is strictly a marketing gimick.

Now, is a legitimate context, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the wielder's sex. If they had the money, the time, and the desire for a perfect grip, they might commission a smith to produce a grip specifically for their hand. Though, the only place I've ever come across this was in competitive fencing. I have seen cases where someone modifies their blade's grip with tape or other materials to better fit their hand, or the addition of a leather (usually shagreen) wrap over their grip, but even that is somewhat unusual. (Shagreen is leather from a shark or ray, and it grips the skin, making it easier to hold, especially when wet.)

Ironically, girl guns do illustrate the one case where have some weight: Weapons as fashion accessories.

I know I've complained about weapons (particularly handguns) as fashion accessories in previous posts, but the truth is that using weapons like this is not new behavior. In the early modern era, one of the ways the rising middle class liked to display their status was with a sidearm. (In this case, referring to a sidesword or, later, a rapier.) I've looked specifically into women carrying sidearms at that point in history, but it really would not surprise me in the least if they did, and if there were, that at least some of those swords were specifically designed to be more delicate and, “feminine,” per their owner's tastes. (Though, to be fair, a more delicate grip on a rapier would be fairly impressive, as the grips tend to be pretty thin.) This is a case where you might want to look into it further, if it really catches your interest, but I've never really run this down before.

If you're still dubious, feel free to wander into nearly any HEMA event, and you'll have a better than average chance of a woman being willing to prove this idea false with a Zweihander, that may in fact be taller than she is. (Historically, Zwiehanders could be over 2 meters long, and chances extremely good that you're shorter than 2 meters.)

I know I'm regurgitating previous posts here, but it really is worth remembering that swords are much lighter than people think. Zweihanders are some of the heaviest battlefield swords from history, and even the heaviest examples weigh less than 9lbs. Women in HEMA can, and do, use them effectively. Swords aren't about being big and heavy, they're about being a (in this case) seven foot long razor blade.

Since we're on the Zweihander specifically (and this may also apply for some of the other greatswords, such as the Scottish Claymore), this is a case where you might have a custom weapon forged for you. However, in this case, that's more about the right blade length, then worrying about the grip being too thick or too thin. Ideally, you want the blade length to match your height (roughly), this is because of the drills with the weapon itself, though you could adjust to a longer blade if that's what you had.

Now, to be clear, the idea of someone, particularly a noble, having a blade custom forged for them specifically isn't strange. That's something that did happen, both at the noble's request, and also as diplomatic gifts from other nations. Examples of the latter resulted in beautiful art pieces that you would never take into battle.

If you had a situation where you couldn't use a sword because the grip was too large (for, whatever reason), there are ways to fix that. In an ideal situation, you could simply pop off the pommel and grip, and then replace the grip with one that was a better fit to your hand. If the tang itself was the problem (this is the metal core of the grip, and is part of the blade, which the pommel attaches to), you might be able to shave (or file) down the tang, and then replace the grip with a new one, fitted to the now smaller tang. I'm not particularly wild about modifying the tang directly, simply because there is a (minor) risk of reducing the structural integrity of the sword in the process. Though, replacing the grip (especially on a sword with a threaded pommel) is very doable, and unless someone, somehow, screws up catastrophically, it should be a pretty trivial modification. (Again, replacing a sword's original grip with a new shagreen grip does make a lot of sense if the owner wants that improved grip.)

But, to the original question, it's not really a thing.

-Starke

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[sweetiecutie]

Part eight: first time/virginity loss~ 🩷 Kinktober Masterlist 🩷

Pairing: John Price x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, virginity loss, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do that), fluff and soft, I don’t like the ending but dunno how to fix it

- You came to me like a smart girl that you are, made me so proud, - John murmured against your ear as two of his thick fingers were working your pussy open, stretching it out to fit his girthy cock inside. His thumb never stopped rubbing the swollen nub of your clit, causing your mouth to fall open in silent moan, your nipples pebbling up at the intensity of newfound pleasure.

- Yeah, you came to a real man who would treat you so good, not some stupid frat boy who’d fuck you in the back sit of his car and then act like nothing ever happened, - Price kept on whispering, placing small kisses on your temple and hairline in between each word, his beard tickling you slightly, adding to sweet sensation. Your wide teary eyes looked up right into his, making John’s heart skip a bit - how pretty you looked underneath him, so soft and sprawled out on his sheets; how those doe eyes sparkled, gazing at him with so much trust and need, how your puffy lips formed a perfect little pout, melting every bone in his massive body into mush.

John leant in, connecting his lips to yours in a slow sloppy kiss; skilled tongue sliding along your lower lip before slipping into the warmth of your mouth, nose bumping against your cheek. Price gladly swallowed a small squeal you let out as he added third finger inside of your cunny, pumping them in and out slowly, smiling into the kiss as you started buckling your hips up ever so slightly, matching the pace of his hand. Man hummed approvingly as he felt your small hands trailing down his chest and sides, clumsily trying to caress his burly body - your touch is tentative and unfirm, but oh how much John enjoyed your eagerness to please.

- You think you’re ready to take me? - John asked after breaking the kiss, his lips mere centimetres away from yours, piercing eyes gazing right into your soul. You nodded rapidly, mouthing small yeses. - That won’t do. Use your big girl words, hm?

- I want you inside of me, - you uttered under your breath, bright pink dusting your cheeks and ears, heart humping rapidly inside of your chest at the realisation of what was about to happen.

- Love, it’s no pressure. You say stop and we stop, get it? - Price said, his voice sounding as serious as ever, startling you slightly by the sudden change. You nodded in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip as John slipped his fingers out of your hole, making you feel so cold and empty. - Now clean my fingers f’me.

You obliged happily, opening your mouth and taking three of Price’s fingers inside, soft tongue swirling around rough fingertips, tasting your soury essence off his skin. You watched with immense interest as John undid the button and a zipper of his cargo pants one handed, tugging them down to his knees. His cock, once free from confines of black boxers, sprung up to his stomach, standing tall and proud and incredibly thick. You gaped, glancing up at your lover in confusion - will that thing even fit in? John chuckled, satisfied with your reaction, taking his digits out of your mouth and pulling your hips closer to himself.

- Don’t worry doll, I’ll be as gentle as ever, - he reassured, wrapping wet with your saliva fingers around his thick shaft, pumping it a few times.

John aligned thick cockhead to your fluttering entrance, causing your breathing to hit hitch in excitement. First stroke was slow and smooth, forcing about one third of Price’s cock inside of you. The stretch burnt, but John did good job earlier, working you open on his fingers, slowly easing you into taking the whole thing. After a few long moments he continued, slowly pumping his hips back and forth, sheathing more and more of his length with each new stroke.

First small moan fell from your lips, John’s cock stretching your pussy to its limits, but his thumb caressing your clit relentlessly made it so much easier to handle. Your tits bounced with each slow thrust, making it impossible for Price to resist grabbing them and playing with your perked up nipples.

- Fuuuuck, you’re so perfect for me. My perfect little girl, all mine, forever mine, - John groaned out, holding you so tenderly, his brain barely functioning at the feeling of your rippling heat wrapping so snugly around his throbbing cock, bringing him to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

Your hands grabbed Price’s wrists for some kind of grounding; initial pain started dissipating slowly, giving place to warm pleasure to suffuse you. Your clit was throbbing. unused to such close attention, back arching up at the intensity of the feeling.

- John, I think I’m gonna- your words broke off as a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over you, washing away all the remnants of thoughts that still were in your head. Pure ecstasy was pumping through your veins, making you shake and tremble in your lover’s firm hands, clamping down onto his thick cock, bringing him closer to his own high.

- That’s it doll. Just like that, cum on my cock, make that pussy cream for me baby, - Price muttered above you, his stomach muscles flex upon feeling you clench around his needy leaking cock. But his hips never stopped, fucking you into and through your high, not planning on stopping anytime soon. Not until John showed you how much pleasure a really good sex may bring<3

[tr34sure]

Do it for me || Jeong Yunho

Pairing: Bigdick!Yunho x small fem!reader

Warnings: Big dick Yunho, the nicknames (pretty girl, Tiny), dirty talk, Dacryphilia, praise.

@wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yourfatherlucifer

At first it hurt your pride when Yunho told his friends that you couldn't take him. You had to admit that he was right, although he never made you feel bad about it. He understood that you were pretty small and couldn't handle his size. He even took your feelings into consideration when he told his friends, being respectful of your boundaries and desires.

However, after the conversation you decided to challenge him needlessly, just to prove that you could take him. You were aware that you lacked experience but were determined to push yourself to the maximum and surprise him.

He was quite impressed with your boldness and determination in challenging him, in which he ended up accepting your proposal.

Yet when the day came, you were quite nervous. The anticipation was growing higher and higher and you felt like this was either the best or worst idea you've ever had. You tried your best to block out your worry and fear and focus on the present moment.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He asks with a sly smile on his face. You can only nod in response.

He positioned himself at your entrance, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of impatience and fear. His cock, already hard and thick, pressed against your opening, teasing you with its size.

You bit your lip nervously as he began to push slowly inside you. The feeling of his cockhead pushing against your tight hole was both painful and exhilarating. You let out a loud moan as he breached your barrier, feeling him stretching out your tiny hole. continuing to push slowly, inch by agonizing inch, filling you up with his thick length.

The pain of your hole stretching out still trying to accommodate him is already enough to make you want to tap out.

“Fuck- Tiny feel so good.” Yunho throws his head back with a deep moan, his mouth slightly open as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Soon enough with the initial discomfort gradually fading you squeeze his arm to signal him that can begin moving.

As he begins his slow thrusts inside of you, the pain is intense. You feel your insides being stretched and torn by his enormous cock. You grit your teeth, determined to endure this just for the sake of the challenge.

“Doing so well for me, pretty girl.”

you grip the sheets tightly. trying your best to desperately hold back the cries that want to escape only for it to miserably fail in the end.

You gasp for air as the intensity of his movements increases. Your body feels like it’s on the verge of shattering.

“Yuyu I can’t handle it.” The tears are now flowing freely down your cheeks, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably at the pain and the slight pleasure.

“I know Tiny, I know, but take it for me I thought you said you could show me you can.”

The bed creaked under the force of your bodies clashing and the air was thick with desire. Your screams of pain slowly turned into screams pleasure as you couldn't help but feel every inch of him filling you up. The sensation was overwhelming and mind-numbing, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You wrapped your legs around him urging him to go harder, faster.

Your nails dug into his back leaving tiny red marks as a testament to the intensity of your desire. He growled low in his throat matching your rhythm as he took you with a force that left no doubt about his possession of you.

“M’feel so good.” Your screams echoed through the room as you cried out in pure bliss from the pleasure. Yunho quickly covered your mouth with his hand, muffling the sounds. His face buried deep in your neck as he continued to thrust into you, his breathing heavy and labored. The feeling of being silenced only seemed to heighten the intensity of the experience for you.

Your body was completely surrendered to his every movement, every thrust. It felt like an unending wave of ecstasy washing over you. Your eyes were rolled back in your head, and your lips were parted as you let out a series of high-pitched moans and cries that filled the his hand.

“So fucking pretty when you cry like this Tiny.” You felt his warm breath against your skin as he whispered.

feeling the intense pleasure building up inside you, you gasped and warned him, "Yuyu... I'm going to cum!.”

“Come on Tiny, cum for me.”

Pushing yourself to the limit, feeling Yunho's cock pulsing inside you, you knew you were both getting close to your climax. Your body shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You felt your insides clenching around him, signalling your impending orgasm.

Yunho's thrusts grew harder and faster, his voice deep and guttural as he too neared his release. With one final thrust, Yunho's hips jerked forward, his seed filling you up as he cried out his release.

[anakinsdove]

𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you and anakin arranged a date in your apartment tonight… yes like a normal couple.

c/w: fluff, (and a little bit angsty) ani is in love and so are you, dates dates dates, movie night.

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 2,819

“So you’re free tonight right?” “Yes” Anakin confirms for the millionth time today… it’s not your fault tho, you just wanna make sure this evening goes exactly as planned, it’s not every night you can arrange a date with your boyfriend though it’s exactly what you and him want, but after all, you’re not a normal couple, he’s a Jedi and not to mention dating it’s forbidden for Jedis, he’s also very busy… you pull at his hair excitedly and he hisses a little. “Wait! What movie are we watching?” You ask, and he nuzzles his face in your chest “Not Bribery” “Is that the one about the alien that-” “Yes that one” “It’s a good movie though” “Of course it’s not” your eyes widen at his disrespect…

“I can’t believe you actually said that” “it’s true” you grumble quietly and he chuckles… his eyes remain closed when he suddenly hears his communicator beeping “Is that-” he groans and answers

“Anakin, you must’ve report to the temple immediately” it’s obi wan “Be right there master” there’s clearly annoyance in his voice, and his heart sinks at your disappointed expression written all over your pretty face… “Hey… the sooner I go the sooner I’ll be back okay?” You can only nod already accepting that the date night is already canceled, you think it’s really selfish wanting to keep him all to yourself, after all he’s a Jedi, he saves lives, he does it for the republic, he does it everyday, why can’t you have him for a couple of hours?

“Look love… don’t worry, you go and get yourself all dolled up, I promise the date isn’t cancelled okay?” You can only hope it’s true… you think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it

“I’ll be waiting” you say and kiss his cheek, he grins at this and closes the door and hear from the other side “I’ll be here at 9:00” you nod forgetting he can’t see you…

5:45 PM

There’s a lot left to do, but where to start? Is the real question, you decide to start with cleaning around a little bit, you move the couch only to find Anakin’s beanie you knitted for him Anakin you grumbled angrily “It’s in my drawer I’m sure” he said a while ago when you questioned him why he didn’t wear it anymore… a few minutes later everything is done and the next step is to start dolling yourself up, you want this to be special and none of your dresses seem to match your expectation… too pink, too red, too elegant, too informal, wrong print? too short? I don’t think that would bother Anakin at all but it bothers you for some reason, it’s like your first date all over again, the butterflies, the anxiety and the unbelievable excitement… it was a great date, considering his padawan braid got stuck in your necklace, you cringe at the memory.

After what feels like an eternity you pick a dress… it’s beautiful purple and it has the “right” length, deciding to ignore the complete disaster you made in your closet, buuuuut now… your nails don’t match the stupid dress! Trying to grab your pretty lilac nail polish a knocking the rest of your make up over, you gasp when you hear your eyeshadow palette breaking and see pigment on the ground “oh no” the sadness in your voice equals to a kicked puppy, you kneel on the ground to dust it away.. it was your favorite palette, the pretty and expensive one, whimpering when you throw it in the trash.

Now you’re painting your nails sad and not even doing it right, there’s nail polish all over your fingers… what the fuck? The shower will take care of it

7:09 PM

Fuck! Everything it’s taking longer than usual, you haven’t even showered yet!

You undress yourself and get in a little bit too quick, the water is still cold, it makes you wince, but there’s not enough time and Anakin said he would be here at 9:00… your makeup, take out, your outfit, the candles? It’s not that you can’t do anything right it’s just that the excitement bubble you feel in your stomach betrays you and turns into anxiety. He would be happy to spend an evening with you in the sand just to be by your side, Anakin wouldn’t notice the small details that make you pull your hair, or maybe he would and wouldn’t even care, or maybe he would care-

8:54 PM

The rest of your routine goes slightly more smoothly, everything is set and now you’re just waiting for Anakin to arrive, you sigh and pray that everything goes as planned from now on.

9:01

9:07

9:15

9:23

9:28

Since when is your couch so big? And why do you feel the clock is ticking too loud for your liking? Your dress feels so tight and then is inevitable… You feel the familiar sensation of tears welling up in your eyes “You think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it”

But then there’s an urgent knocking on your door, one that you could’ve never mistake, the kind of knocking that wants to take the stupid door down and your practically jump from the couch and sprint towards the door, opening it with shaky hands… And there he is… he’s frowning and gripping the bouquet of flowers in his hands anxiously, already damaging the wrapper that holds it together. “Y/n” he says breathlessly and he immediately stops when he notices the tears in your eyes.

Your eyes switch to his face to his eyes lips then the bouquet, taking all of him so you can remember this later, his robes are muddy “Ani-" he places the flowers at a nearby table and instantly takes your face in his hands “What’s the matter doll?” He asks and wipes your tears away.. it actually makes you melt.

“I thought you weren’t coming” Your voice comes out small and you feel a little sad for not trusting him from the begging, he promised he would be here and here he is…. “I’m sorry for being so late Y/N I- the mission was- it’s not important” “Are you okay?” You ask, he gives you a small smile and nods “Everything is alright, everyone as well” you sigh in relief “That’s good my love, congrats” you hug him, he’s still sad at the sight of your dried tears on your cheeks, but at least your mascara is still intact.

“You sure that’s all?” Your grip around him tightens as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, suddenly your struggles from earlier don’t seem like a big deal after his own deal being a Jedi is responsibility aswell. “I almost messed up our date?” “Huh? And why’s that love?” And you finally look up at him “I dunno… it’s silly”

“It can’t be silly if it bothered you enough to make you cry” you want to argue and say It is but he might be right and you don’t know better “First I found out you did loose the scarf I made you-” “Where is it!?” He asks excitedly “Then I didn’t like any of my dresses… it took me forever, then my nails wouldn’t match my dress and I dropped my eyeshadow palette-“ “The pretty one with the pink tones?” “Yes, that one” “Aw, I’m sorry doll” “It’s okay… then I got in the shower and the water was freezing and then you wouldn’t show up!” Anakin cringes at the last part and you continue “I-I’m sorry, all of this sounds really stupid compared to any kind of problem you face daily as Jedi-” “Normal” “Huh?” “Your problems are… are normal… I like normal” “Oh… You do?” “Of course Y/N… after dealing with the war everyday and the council… this, this is exactly what I need” you chuckle “Well it’s always a pleasure to be ordinary enough for you” “I didn’t mean it like that-” “I know” you giggle… “I wish our life would be this domestic sometimes, can you imagine? You, me and two little mini you running around the house?” Children… he’s thinking about children, that gives you a reality check, any silly doubt you might have about your relationship is gone just like that because he’s actually dreaming about a life with you, and you wouldn’t prefer any different.

“I would love that” you say sincerely… “They would have your eyes and my hair…. Your eyebrows” He traces them delicately “And maybe my personality, one each” that makes you beam “I can’t wait” “Me neither” He takes your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly… it’s nice and delicate, he hums in the kiss and takes the chance to slide his tongue in his mouth, you suck at it softly and after a few seconds you pull away only to find the completely head over heels gaze he’s giving you.

“You’re all muddy” you say “I didn’t see the hole in the ground-” you shake your head in disbelief and take his hand in yours to guide him to your bathroom “It was Obi wan’s fault!” Now.. how could that possibly be Obi wan’s fault? But you let him ramble. “Undress” you say

“Oh you would’ve loved that wouldn’t you?” he teases and you punch him in the shoulder jokingly. He starts taking his robes off while you start filling the tub, the water is warm this time and you pour a little of your lavander soap in “Hey i thought you wanted a show” he says teasingly, because you made him undress and you didn’t even watch… that’s a shame honestly. “Get in baby” he can’t resist you or a warm bath when needed.

The water is instantly soothing for his aching muscles… he groans and tilts his head back, opening his eyes to find you looking at him adoringly “Thank you my love” he says and you lean in to kiss his cheek “You’re very welcome Ani” you throw him your old rubber duck in he laughs, he closes his eyes and sighs, he couldn’t ask for anything better in life… his eyes remain closed for a few seconds “C’mon Baby don’t pass out… you could’ve drown” “Mmm I know you wouldn’t let me” “Don’t be so sure” he opens his eyes wide and you cackled. “Close your eyes” you say “Make up your mind” he teases but does as you say, You take a small recipient with warm water and pour it over his head, gently soaking his curls, he tilts his head forward like a child, then you pour some of the apple shampoo on your hand, you figured out he liked the scent and you start gently massaging his scalp and smile when you see bubbles, his eyes peaked open to look at your loving and concentrating expression, he’s melting but when your nails escaped along his scalp he purrs… the night goes on and when you’re done washing his hair and his bubble bath is over he turns the shower on to wash his body… you wait for him with a fluffy bath towel, he smiles when he sees you and he wraps himself in it.

He follows you into your bedroom where he find a pair of his sweatpants he keeps in here, the sweater you knitted for him, a pair of your fluffy socks and clean boxers, he gives you a grateful smile… when he’s done he wraps his arms around you and you lean on him as he rubs your back “You’re a little tense hun” “Whaaat? No I’m” “Lay down” you look up at him with puppy eyes “Lay down on your stomach c’mon” And who are you to complain when Anakin Skywalker gives an order.

You lay down on the bed and he takes your heels off and kisses up your calf, and okay you weren’t completely lying, you’re still not completely sure you’re actually tense and that Anakin only wants an excuse to touch you, but his touch already feels amazing… “M’sorry I didn’t say it earlier but you look absolutely beautiful, every single detail about you is perfect” that means a lot to you “Thank you… You’re So Perfect-” he starts kissing down you back covering your spine with kisses, his hands find the zip or your dress “Gonna unzip your dress okay? I’m gonna take it off” “Yeah” you say already agreeing with anything he says, he chuckles, his hand unzips your dress nice and slow while his eyes trace every detail of your back… moles, marks, tattoos, anything… wait that looks like a constellation… he takes the dress off leaving you only in your bra and panties “This too” he pulls at your bra and you roll your eyes not annoyed at all “alright” he instantly unclasps your bra and you lift yourself so he can take it off, his touch is gentle when he slides the straps down your shoulders… his gaze lingers on your chest and you giggle “My massage” “Oh! Right” He pushes your on your stomach again, his hands dig into your shoulder blades and you make a little sound when his metal hand touches your back, it’s cold and it feels good for some reason “There’s a knot here” he says and pushes deeper to massage your skin, you moan and his ears perk up at the sound but he pushes those thoughts to the back of his head for your own sake and his “Ani… that feels really good” “I know” he says cockily and keeps working his magic, suddenly his hands grip your ass and you gasp “You’re tense here too” he massages the skin and you actually think you’re muscles are grateful… the feeling want to make your thighs squeeze Not now You think.

10 minutes later he’s done and you’re actually sleepy, he takes one of your sweaters out of your drawer and you try to put it on but he does it for you, unfortunately his hand tickles your ribs and you giggle, he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes… “Would you like to watch a movie” he kisses your neck and you close your eyes “Sure!” You beam, “Okay… I’ll make the pop corn” he keeps kissing you and you think he might never stop and make the damn pop corn, though you’re not sure you want him to stop you whimper and your breathing heaves “I’ll go now… promise” however he keeps kissing you and you take the chance to tickle his ribs, he cackles and takes the queue to leave.

You realize you still have makeup on your face and you curse at yourself, feeling lazy to take it off but going to the bathroom and washing your face no matter how much you wanna eat pop corn and get into his arms you want.. he comes back 5 minutes later with the bowl of pop corn and two drinks… you beam at the sight of snacks and he chuckles “Are you happy to see me or the popcorn?” “Both”

“We’re watching Bribery” you say simply “Whatever” he says clearly not happy with your choice but happier nonetheless to be here, he thinks it’s cute how much you like this shitty movie… you nuzzle into his arms and 40 minutes later you’re starting to fall asleep.

“It’s time to sleep love” “Nuh uh” you say with your eyes already closed “What why not?” He asks curiously, your body says otherwise

“You still haven’t fucked me, date night it’s not over” you say boldly and he cackles

“It’s alright love, I’ll promise I’ll fuck you in the morning”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

He stays up for a little after you fell asleep, admiring your features and tracing them gently with his knuckle, careful to not harm you, to not wake you up or disturb you in any way “I love you… more than anything in the entire universe…” something sparked inside him watching your sleep so vulnerable and with your guard completely down, trusting him completely.. “And I would never let something bad happen to you…” he kisses your forehead and stares at you with pure adoration in his eyes… he truly loves you… he tries to find a word bigger than that to state his love for you but the sleepiness is finally getting to him too…

“G’night” he mutters and lastly kisses your nose.

masterslist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers- @i92-93

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I don't think non-New Yorkers know how funny Miles and Wiles having Jordans is.

Like it's REALLY funny and really Brooklyn - New York of him.

Miles, Wiles, and Jordan Sneakers - Clever Cultural Characterisation

[A MEDIUM length post were I talk about Brooklyn Sneaker Culture and it's use in ATSV]

Have you ever wondered -

Why is Miles the only one wearing branded clothing?

When all other brands are either spoofed or replaced, why is Miles - the main character wearing such VERY BLATANTLY branded sneakers?

And why is Nike, a random shoe brand, the choice to go with?

There's a reason the creators show Miles' creativity and personality through his shoes.

And it's because

JORDANS HAVE A CHOKEHOLD - on Black Guys in High School from NYC

And this might be bizarre to some and idk if it translates to other black communities- (please tell me if it does)

But here in Brooklyn, almost every masc guy in my high school was OBSESSED with Jordans. Most guys I knew can name certain releases by looking at them, and had multiple pairs in different colors

JORDANS WERE LIKE SOCIAL CURRENCY - from middle school all the way to college. And it's a very cultural thing here in Brooklyn.

What colors you had and how many are something you bragged about. Many guys own multiple different colorways of Jordan's and will WAIT in line hours for a new release.

There's a store call Flight Club here in the city, and sometimes you'll see the line going out the door, of well dressed black guys waiting for the new release of Nikes to start going on sale.

Of course Adidas is popular, but no where near the culture hold as Nike to us.

I remember begging my parents for like a week until they brought me Black Air Force 1s

And I STILL have them over ten years later. They're too small, but they're holding up well. And even until this day, my home town is lined with sneaker stores. There's one around the corner from me rn.

Here it really is natural for guys LOVE JORDANS and to use them as a form of self expression. It's not odd for Fashion is on the minds of black guys in Brooklyn.

Even in high school, guys were matching their outfits and always trying to get the latest brand name. Mind you, this is an inner-city school full of 98% low income black kids. For us that was a social language.

Some shoes even have their own 'personalities' tied to them:

For example:

Black Air Force 1s (the one above) are often called 'hit a lick' shoes. Hitting a lick means to rob someone. So there's this idea that if you have those on you about that action lol it's an chill inside joke though it isn't serious.

White Air Forces are seen for guys who DON'T do that because they're too worried about getting their white ass shoes so clean.

Keep the above in mind for the next part

Hair cuts - like shape-ups and fades, Backpacks, and Shoes are three big things that were a fashion influence in my high school HARD.

Trends also are a big thing here, and they come on really quickly. I remember for maybe four years a brand called Sprayground got big, and after all SO many high school kids started collecting these $80 bags in all different colors. I wanted one so bad.

A lot of them had illustrations of things like money or weed.

If you see a mfer with the shark mouth bookbag RUN he's the biggest fuckboy you've ever met.

Which is to say - !42 WOULD HAVE ONE OF THESE BAGS

Guys get SO INTO THEM

How many of the iconic orange boxes that you lined up in your room (yes they keep them) was something you boasted about.

MFers would deadass have this in the corner of their room and bring you over talking about sum 'it's decor' SIR IT'S A HOARDING ADDICTION

They'll walk different, and NEVER squat, because doing that might crease the leather along the toe box. And creased Jordans are not fresh so what's the point - they're ruined. A guy in my class use to being plastic bags and tie them around his ankles when it rained then he walked home.

Like look at this Reddit post I found -

'is he stupid' 😭😭that's so mean but like here EVERY guy just assumes you know not to do that to Jordans ever

And that's why the creators do it - AND THEY DO IT WELL

And it's so impressive their deep understanding of this very specific thing that happens in mostly black high schools in NYC.

Cause that's not something you can just search up and research really.

Because of our culture - Miles & Miles!42's shoes are a silent language in their own right.

Like Miles!42's shoes are one of the first things we see about him.

They're the first thing we're suppose to notice - because it let's is compare him to Miles.

Miles' Jordans are iconic - the white and red shoes.

They're clean and white, with pops of color and personality. Like Miles, he's about being the good of Spider-man, while also getting himself and adding his own colors to it.

And because it's natural to the character and the culture, they let his shoes be the signal that Wiles is not like Miles. He has a different style, in fighting, in speaking, in personality, from his hair literally down to his shoes.

REMEMBER HOW I TALKED ABOUT SHOES HAVING PERSONALITY AND THE BLACK AIR FORCES ??????

Wiles' shoes are VERY similar to Black Air Force 1s. It's basically that with utility bags and purple detailing.

That's a signal - like I said: WILES IS ABOUT THAT ACTION. He's here to get his lick back.

From his standpoint, as a black guy from Brooklyn with his personality, he would know about this culture. He'd know the message black Nikes send where he's from.

It'd be natural for him - Hell yeah he'd go for the black Jordans.

He's speaking his social language.

Wiles' doesn't have to say 'fuck around and find out' he got on Air Forces with bags on them - HE'S ABOUT IT.

The writers didn't wake up one day and say 'Oh Nike wants a brand deal?! Okay cool'.

They don't show Wiles' shoes to be like 'LOOKY BUY THE NICE SHOES' - We are shown this shot

For them to be like : This is who Miles!42 is.

Because of sneakers.

Isn't that COOL? ISN'T IT. ISN'T IT COOL THE SOCIAL DYNAMICS OF INNER CITY BLACK KIDS IN NEW YORK??

But it's really funny to me to see Wiles shoes and be like 'damn he bout to fuck Miles up'.

THE IDEA OF THEM FEIGNING OVER JORDANS Fyyofydyogoc

Do guys where you are do this?? Like is this a thing y'all know any Sneakerheads.

Anyway I would put a pic of Hobie but I'm on mobile so they won't let me and I'm lazy

Bye.

[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound Part 2 - Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Sorry it took so long, I just really had no clue how to do the first part justice

Word Count: 3,876

Warnings: reader is a brothel worker

Description:Part two to the first. FIRST PART HERE

Enjoy!

There were many times in Geralt's life where he felt an undeniable rage, and there were many times that he let that rage affect him until he was forced to suffer the consequences of all his actions. He had learned over the years that there were ways of handling his rage, there were ways of dealing with sadness and pain. 

He had been through so much, and yet he stood, and he always told himself that it would be worth it. Soon enough he would find something that would make it all worth it, and he had found that in you. 

Your soul matched his in a way he never thought possible, and though you didn’t have the same physical scars you had both been through more than you can imagine. And he always found himself gravitating to you, the one person in the world that he felt never judged or expected anything from him. 

Sure, he obviously did not know how to deal with this. He never knew how to talk to you, what to say and when to say it, and he really did not know how to seem casual just as Jaskier always could. Not to mention he was constantly worried about losing you. He felt like a flame, loving something so much and trying to engulf it into warmth only for it to burn and vanish. 

You had been through so much, he never wanted you to burn and he couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

So, even if he couldn’t show emotion or manage to properly show his love, he allowed Jaskier to grow close to you. Geralt made sure that you were physically safe, warm and fed. It was the least he could do. 

He never wanted to leave you wanting for anything, and he desperately tried to find ways to show you yet nothing ever worked. 

But then you were his, for one small moment he had you and he felt as though everything was worth it again. He would burn the world down for you, slay any monster and batter any mortal. It was all yours for the taking…

Until you burned. 

How ironic, how hard he fought to keep you at arms length only to lose the battle in a split moment, and be proven right just like that. 

Now you were gone. 

He knew exactly where you were, had already tried to get you, only to be stopped at the door each time.  Each time he was stopped he wanted to crush their skulls, storm up to wherever they were keeping you and try to explain. 

He would drag you out the door himself just to make sure you never had to do this again. But there were laws, as well as contracts. He would never be allowed to see you unless he could pay the fee, and you would never be allowed to leave unless you could buy out your contract. 

If he managed to get to you and help you escape there would still be the hassle of everyone hunting you down, and word spreads from town to town quickly when it comes to Witchers. 

“How much?” He growls, keeping his eyes narrowed in on the older woman before him, watching her lean back on her chair and fix her dress. She was unlike any other brothel owner he had come across, the others always had a protective notion for the girls. This one seemed vindictive in every word she spoke. 

“Witcher, I have told ye the last 4 times ye have been here that she is not for sale.” She laughs, reaching a foot out to kick the pouch of gold he had laid on the table in front of her. Her dress rides up exposing a very scarred leg, and his stomach tightens at the atrocities you must be going through with this hag and any man she rented you out to.  “Y/n is the emerald of all brothels, before she came upon mine she was already widely known for her beauty, not to mention her time with the Witcher? Men are practically killing themselves to have a moment with her. I stand to make more keeping her than I ever would selling her back to you.”

“Her contract-”

“Has another 4 years under my roof. By the end of that I could be far far away from this continent. Don’t you understand?” She leans forward, knocking the satchels down and watching all the gold pieces fall on the ground. 

That had been 4 months work, 4 months of Geralt working himself to the bone and saving up in a chance to save you. He hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than 2 hours a night in that span of time. 

Images flash through his mind, him ringing this wenches neck in or slamming her head into the fire. Maybe he could slice her head off in one clean motion. 

But he doesn’t, because he understands the consequences. So he bites his tongue and stands straighter. “I just want to see her-”

“Then you pay, just as everyone else.” The Madame sneers, leaning across the table. “I don’t give a fuck if you love her witcher, though I don’t believe you are even capable of that, my rules stay the same. You want to see her then you pay for her time.”

He leans forward, smirking a bit when her attitude drops in fear for a moment, before tilting his head. “Then how fucking much?”

-

“I really do not believe you were worth 230 gold pieces-” Lord Servail huffs, struggling to shove himself back into his trousers. You struggled not to roll your eyes as you sat up, pulling the sheet to cover yourself and looking at the floorboards of the raggedy room. 

You had learned that the men of this village did not like to be watched, most of them married and most of them carrying guilt. You had merely assumed Lord Servail to be the same. 

“Have you nothing to say, whore?” He bellows, walking across the room to grab at your chin. A moment of panic sinks in, one hand holding the sheet tight while the other grabs at his wrist in an attempt to free yourself. 

“I do not understand what you mean, sir-”

“You are boring! You just laid there like a fucking corpse-”

“That didn’t seem to stop you from finishing within a minute-” The slap sounds out and for a second you wonder what he hit, then you open your eyes and feel the stinging on your cheek to realize it had been you. 

A bitter laugh slips past your lips as you taste the iron. 

Blood trails down past your lips as tears spring up in your eyes, the sheets under you stained and ripped from the past month. You think of Geralt in this moment, wishing that you were near him even if he ignored you. 

There had always been a calming factor to the witcher that you never understood, maybe it was a feeling of safety or maybe you just liked that he never showed much anger. He took anything that affected him and made a rational judgment. 

He was a man of trust, and he had never let anything harm you. Sure he yelled at you when he thought you stupid, and made condescending remarks, but you never felt as though he would lay a hand on you. 

“Is that all?” You sniffle, reaching a hand up to stop the blood as he steps back. The man stares at you before yelling out and storming out of the room, shirt untied as well as the trousers. You hear him yelling at your Madame before he leaves and you move over to the basin in the corner to clean yourself off. 

You clean your nose before moving to clean your legs, letting the tears fall freely as you hear her heels come down the hall. 

“You’ve just cost yerself yer pay, I’ll tell you that much.” Madame snaps, the door swinging hard enough to make the wall shake as she marches in. “I told ye that Lord Servail was a valued client and you-”

“Smiled pretty and let him cum. He really didn’t complain much until it came time to pay.” You snark, watching her face pull up. “Have I any news? Anyone come to see me?” 

It had been a month, and you had kept hoping that maybe Geralt or Jaskier would come to see you. At least try to get you back, but nothing. No letters, no visits, nothing. 

“Yer Witcher isn’t comin for ya’. So I suggest you fix yerself up and get back to work.” The Madame snarls, tossing the silk robe at you before storming back out. 

That lonely feeling that clung to you the day you left never seemed to fade, it folds in around you now as you pull into yourself. Knees hugged to your chest as you hide your face and cry. 

Truly what did you expect? That he would come pounding on the door? Try to save you? The salty taste of the tears mixes in with the iron as you sob. You had been foolish, so very foolish. 

Geralt must be at least 6 towns away by now, barely even thinking of you. 

-

“I am terribly sorry to inform ye, Witcher, that my emerald is stacked up for the next week and a half.”

“Bullshit.”

She snarls at him, standing quickly and snatching a heavy book from the desk behind her before slamming it on the table. “Take a fucking look then.” 

He doesn’t waste a moment, snapping through the pages one by one until he reaches your ledgers. Your handwriting is at the top, neat and clean from the ink, dated that day you dashed from the tavern. 

The very same day he had raced over here to see you. 

The day after he had you in his arms. 

The memory of it flashes through him, the way he snatched you like a caveman. He tries to reason with himself that he believed it to be consensual, that he hadn’t realized you were under a spell. But it didn’t matter. 

He treated you in a way he swore to himself he never would, and he made you so uncomfortable that you ran. 

Bile rises in his throat as embarrassment and guilt claw through him, he snaps through your pages to see dozens of signatures on each page. “You have her seeing twelve clients each day?”

“This is a busin-”

“Is she eating enough? Sleeping enough? Are you giving her proper time to rest?”

“I’m not a fucking babysitter-”

“If you are abusing your contract then she has a right to leave!”

She stares at him, watching for a moment with wide eyes as her cheeks go red. Then she fixes herself, clearing her throat before shouting out loud. “BOYS!” He doesn’t fight it as they grab both of his arms, instead he lets them carry him to the door and throw him to the mud below. 

“Guessing she didn’t take it?” Jaskier asks, watching Geralt pick himself up, checking to make sure he still had the satchel of gold. “Surprise surprise.”

All Geralt could do at this point was grunt, moving towards Roach as the barb fixes his coat. 

“I have another job, heard whispers of a screaming creature in the woods not far off from here. Figured you’d want to go out and make more gold so we can do this all again over and over and over.” 

“She’s overworking her, I just know it. Not enough time to eat or sleep-”

“Geralt, as much as I love Y/n, I think we need to….evaluate our current situation.”

“I NEED TO -”

“Get to her. I know. I’m not saying anything otherwise. I just want you to think about whether you want her to see you like this.”

“I want to see her safe.”

“And Y/n would want the same of you. Besides, we obviously have no power against the brothel system.”

“I have fought countless beasts-”

“And I am still your only friend. It’s time you admit it Witcher, humans aren’t your best expertise.” 

If this was any other moment Geralt would ignore him, hop onto Roach and pretend the worm didn’t exist. But he was tired, so tired he truly didn’t think he could even climb onto the horse. 

“Then what do you suggest?”

“First? Sleep. Then? We find an outside source.”

- 

Two months in and winter had finally come. 

You found yourself huddling together with Snae, a brothel worker that had been here a little longer than you, but hadn’t been that much older. This had been the first night you both had off this entire time, and it hadn’t been a purposeful thing. 

There had been a ball in the village, apparently a beast had been slaughtered and most of the nobles and rich men left in their carriages far away. Which meant you were free to huddle close to your friend for warmth as you tried to fight off the winter air. 

“I imagined this brothel warmer.” She sniffles, pressing her forehead to your arm as you shiver. “I was told this was one of the best-”

“It is….. To their guests.” You laugh, tired and aching. Honestly you could barely move, and you hadn’t managed to make it at dinner hour since you had been with a client. But Snae was nice enough to sneak you in a roll of bread. 

“I want to get out of here.” She admits in a quick breath, and you can’t help but smile at the admission. 

You had often imagined ways you would escape, but the truth was you had nowhere to go and no one to leave for. What would you have if you left here? Nothing.

So instead you close your eyes, and lean into her as you whisper. “Where would you go?”

“Home. To find my sister.” 

“You have a family?” 

“A little sister, it’s why I am here. I wanted to make sure she had something to pay for food.” Something tears at your chest, and within a moment you think of a plan. 

“Then let’s get you out of here.”

It takes a mere 30 minutes to pack her a travel pack using a sheet from the bed, rushing to your room to pick up the floorboard where you keep the little pay you make, 10 silver coins. Tossing them in her satchel before tiptoeing to the attic where the largest window was. 

“Shhh.” You whisper when she slips, the wood beneath her scraping under her shoe. Helping her stand before moving to the window. Unlatching it was easy, the winter air covering both of you in a moment. “You swill slide from this section to the next. Until you make it to that tree.”

“You go first.”

“I am not coming.” You laugh, clearing some of the snow from the sill. 

“You must.” 

“No, I have nothing. Besides, one of us needs to stay and give you time.” 

“Y/n-”

“If she begins hunting you then go and find the witcher. Do you hear me?”

“He wouldn’t help someone like me.” She laughs, and you merely stare at her. 

“I think you would be surprised of just how good of a person the Witcher is, though he likes to pretend he is not.”

“What should I say to him if I must find him?”

“That the Geralt I know would keep you safe. Now go.” 

You help her climb up the sill and onto the roof, watching her slide down in the flimsy robe Madame forces you to wear and make sure she makes it to the tree safely before closing the window. 

You allow yourself one moment to press your forehead against the cold glass of it, your breath hitting the glass to form a smudge.  You imagine escaping yourself, maybe going out to find Jaskier. 

But that was unrealistic. 

And you were obviously unwanted.

-

“Please, it’s very important-” A strong female voice fills the air as Geralt breathes in the scent of roast and ale. There was also smoke from the fires but he was far too hungry to admire that scent on it’s own.  “They said that he was here and-”

“First round of ale on me.” Jaskier sings out, moving to the counter as Geralt rolls his eyes. Jaskier was carrying his gold sack so truly the first round was on him. 

He was six villages away from you right now, landing at a cheap tavern for the night before they set up camp. They were here to listen for jobs. 

The plan, as terrible as it was, had been to travel to find Yennefer and along the way they would earn some extra gold. That way when they go they can send the witch in to make the deal, or at least pretend to make the deal as she can try to sneak you out. 

It was a terrible plan……. Because it was Jaskiers plan. 

“Please, I need to find the witcher.” That draws Geralt's attention away from the hearth he had been glaring into, head whipping to spot the young woman clutching the shoulders of a little girl as she begs the man once more. “If you could just tell me where he would be staying-”

“Witchers aren’t allowed in the fucking taverns here, so shut yer trap before I put it to work-.” Before Geralt could stop himself his hand is shooting out, catching the man by the back of the neck. At his movement the hood he had been wearing falls and the people around him all quiet down. 

The womens eyes fall to him, widening. “You are just as Y/n described.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of your name, and he finds himself nodding to Jaskier to lead the girl outside. The air hits him, the warmth gone but there was nothing that would hinder him from the conversation. 

“You know Y/n?” His voice is rough, the heat traveling his skin hiding him from the cold. The woman's eyes are filled with tears and the young girl is shoving her face in the smallest scrap of dress he had seen, so in one quick moment he rips his hood off to hand to them. “Is that what you wear in this cold?” “Please, I… I’m from the same brothel as Y/n and she helped me escape. All my money has gone to keeping my sister warm….. Y/n said that you would help. She said the Geralt she knew would help.”

“Where is she?” His heart is thundering through his ribcage at this point, and he can see Jaskier emerging from the tavern. “Did she make it-”

“She didn’t come.”

“Why?”

“Probably scared she wouldn’t make it out. Or might believe she is all alone and has nothing to escape for.” The feminine voice makes Geralt jump through his skin. Suddenly she is there, smelling of smoke and lavender. 

“Yennefer.” Jaskier gasps, but Geralt hadn’t needed him to let him know. 

“Tell me, Geralt of Rivia, about the woman who broke the witcher.”

You were no longer tired at this point, truly you were nothing. 

You didn’t speak, missed more meal times than not from being stuck with clients and at this point you didn’t seem to care. You were just breathing, and that was as much energy as you can muster. 

Three months into this place had truly broken you. 

Yennefer thought this place smelled of urine and death, and though she respected the females brave enough to work here she had absolutely no fucking clue why any man would risk stepping in here.

 One look at the young girl passing her with a bruise on her cheek told her all she needed to know. The men that came here didn’t care about anything but getting themselves wet and letting off some steam. 

“I have a room upstairs, I charge 50 a month in rent, half your earnings are to the house and the rest belong to you.” A voice sounds out, drawing Yennerfers attention away from the young girl with the bruise, back to the raggedy woman sitting at the counter. 

“Excuse me?”

“I have a room for ye-” 

“I’m not here for a room. I’m here for a girl.” 

“Really?”

Yennefer slaps 2 gold coins onto the counter, a smirk crossing her face as the woman's eyes widen in greed. “I was told you had an emerald here.”

“You’re here for Y/n….only problem there is it’s double for her time.” Yennefer sighs, taking out one more coin and slapping it down. “I said double.”

“And I am willing to go and tell the town that your girls are sick.”

“What do you want with Y/n?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need me to explain how your business works but if you need a lesson in fucking then you would have to pay ME double.”

“She is in the top room. Don’t bother knocking.” And just like that Yennefer is moving, picking up her skirts to walk up the steps, trying not to breathe in the smells as she reaches your room. 

Just as the brothel worker said she doesn’t bother knocking, and it was clear why when she walked in. 

The beauty Geralt had described last night was still there, just one look and even Yennefer was nearly at a loss for words. But the spark, the light of you was gone. You stared at the wall before you, empty and gone. 

“Y/n?” She calls, closing the door behind her. “Y/n…”

“I can’t….she said I’d have a day.” You sob, pulling into yourself. 

“You’ll have more than a day, I can promise that.” Yennefer smiles, moving closer slowly. “Your witcher has sent me.”

“My witcher?” There it was, some of that spark. “He’s gonna be mad at me.”

“Now that I can swear on. Come.”

-

Geralt stood pacing back and forth on the pathway as he waited for Yennefers portal to open, his heart in his throat and his eyes glued to the space before him. 

Jaskier waited at the inn they had found with the girl you had saved, Snae. But for now it would just be him waiting for Yennefer, far enough from the town that they would have a head start if anyone went looking for you whilst the rest would cause a stir and send them on a chase. 

They had learned from Snae that Madame had sent a bounty out on her, so Geralt could only imagine what she would do to you. ‘Her emerald’. 

Then it was there, forming like a cloud at first until it got bigger and bigger until it began showing like a mirror. 

Then Yennefers hand came through and Geralt found himself launching forward as she stepped through, both arms wrapped around…..you.

He was there, his hands on you as soon as he could, keeping you upright as Yennefer lets go. “Y/n.”

“Please don’t be mad.” You whisper. 

“What has she done to you…..”

Part 3 on October 30th

@sagelovesreading

@lashipperrubia @freyafriggafrey @cookielovesbook-akie @whatishappeninghere81 @livesinfantasyland @multiifandomhoe @amara-75 @unfxrgetwble @vlynccx @redlovett @yorkeylover @mxtokko @readinggirl29 @mollymal @fullmoonshadowwrites @rileytwenty @glasschampagne @caffieneaddictt18 @kittiowolf210 @purple-blommie @abrunettefangirlnerd @babezawa

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Muggle Activities

masterlist

pairing: tom riddle x female reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, a snippet of protective/jealous tom

summary: you finally convinced tom to go to a carnival with you

a/n: guyss i have a small something planned when i get just a few more followers and im excited :) also i have no clue what the cost of the wristbands are so i just made up a price.

song: best song ever - one direction

"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Tom aggressively sighs.

"You did it because you love me." You stand on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek.

He lowly grumbles something along the lines of, "Yeah, yeah."

You were wearing a pastel blue, knee length sundress. Along with a matching pastel blue ribbon holding your hair back behind your head.

Tom was dressed in black dress pants and white button up. His put his hands in his pants pockets and you grabbed his elbow, pulling him to the ticket stand.

The elder woman looks at you two, "Hello."

You smile at her and fidget with one of the rings on Tom's finger. "Hi! Um, may we please have two wristbands?"

"Sure, that'll be $65."

You go to take the money from your purse but Tom grabs your wrist and shakes his head. He pulls his wallet out and hands her the money.

Before you came, you and Tom went to change some of your wizard currency into muggle money.

You sigh and look at him, "Why do you never let me pay. I feel bad, you're always spending money on me."

He leans over as the lady moves to grab the wristbands. "Who's to say I don't enjoy spoiling you, darling?"

You blush and mumble, "Well, thank you."

"Alright, here you go, enjoy."

You thank the woman and excitedly move away from the stand to put the bands on. "May I see your wrist, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He holds out his wrist and you put it on, he then does the same for you.

"Alright! Where should we go first?"

Tom looks around and shrugs, "I don't know, you're the one who's familiar with these things."

"Hm, let's start with... Zero Gravity!" You grab his hand and start walking towards the ride.

"Do we have to go on rides?" Tom practically whines. "Why not those things over there?" You look at him and see him watching the carnival games. "Muggles think this stuff is fun?" Tom asks as he looks at the ride that swings back and forth as people scream.

"Yep! Oh and don't worry we'll do the games. After a few rides," you grin. "Come on."

You make it to the line and to your surprise, the line was decently short, so you were able to get onto the ride quickly.

You two stand next to each other and the ride starts a minute later, spinning so fast that you two are pushed back against the padding behind you.

After it stops, you two walk off and stand out of the way. "So! How was your first ride experience?"

"It was... nauseating. I don't know what the point of that was."

"I think it was fun!" You bounce on your feet and look up at his hair which got a bit messed up.

You reach your arms up and comb your fingers through his hair, neatening it.

"If anyone else were to touch my hair, I-"

"You would use an unforgivable curse, blah blah blah."

"You know me too well," he gives you a boyish grin. He puts his arm on your shoulders and turns you. Running his fingers through your hair and tightening your bow.

"Thanks, love," you kiss his hand. "Okay, next let's go on the swings!"

He nods and follows you like a lost puppy, although if anyone were to say that they wouldn't have a tongue to say anything again.

You two show your wristbands and find your seats. The ride begins and the swings start going around as it rises into the air. Tom has to admit it's a good view since it's nighttime and everything is lit up.

It spins for about two more minutes before slowing and going low again. When it's stopped you turn to Tom, "That was great, wasn't it?"

He shrugs as you both unhook the straps, "I don't know if I would use that word, but it wasn't bad." You walk over to him and take his hand in yours, walking through the exit. "Where to now, angel?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "How about that roller coaster?"

He looks at where you're pointing and starts to shake his head immediately. "No. Abso-bloody-lutely not."

"Come on Tom! It's not that bad." You start pulling him and you look back at him, "It's practically the same things as the Gringotts Mine Cart."

"I suppose."

You wait a bit on the line and get put in your own cart. You hold his hand and put your free hand on his bouncing knee. "Don't be nervous, love."

He scoffs, "I'm not nervous."

You narrow your eyes at him, "Mhm."

The ride starts and you go all directions at a great speed. It goes in loops and goes up before it drops.

You look over at Tom and see his eyes closed. You smile and poke his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks at you when you laugh, "You're so cute."

He doesn't have time to scold you for calling him cute because the cart takes a sharp turn before going back to where you started.

The man running the ride comes and lifts the bars. You two step out and go down the stairs. "That was amazing," you lean against Tom's side.

"Whatever you say, darling."

"Okay, why don't we get some cotton candy and then play a few games. It's already 10:45."

"Okay," he kisses your head. You two walk over and purchase two cotton candy and then walk to one of the games.

"Tom! I need to win a fish! The poor things are probably miserable in those tiny bags."

"Okay only one though because I don't think Hogwarts allows pet fish."

"Bloody hell," Tom says holding two large buckets full of bagged fish.

"I can't leave them to die in there!"

"As much as I love how caring you are, was winning thirty-four fish necessary?"

"Yes, Tom. That lady was nice enough to let me play for almost twenty minutes. Okay! Next game."

You two walk up to the game with darts you throw to pop small balloons on the wall.

You smile at the guy working the game. He seemed about your age. "Hi!"

He looks up from his phone and Tom places the buckets on the ground. "Hey," he says, lips curving into a small smirk.

"Mind if I play once?" You ask, handing him a five dollar bill.

"Not at all," he winks and hands you three darts. You hand two to Tom and keep the last one.

Tom throws his, popping two balloons. You throw the last one and pop a balloon.

"Great aim," the guy says. "Pick whatever."

You glance around, spotting something before turning to Tom. "That looks like Novalie," you beam at him, referring to your owl. Tom looks behind you and sees the guy looking quite low in a place he certainly shouldn't be.

He turns you around and wraps an arm around your shoulder while he glares at the guy, "We'll take the owl," he says coolly.

The guy grabs it and hands it to you with a charming smile. He opens his mouth but Tom cuts him off, starting to walk away. "Let's go, sweetheart."

You glance back at the guy who's watching you two walk away. "Bye, thank you! Oh, the fish!"

"I'll get them, wait here." Tom walks over and picks up the buckets. You see him lean over and mumble something to the guy who looks like he's seen a ghost.

You hit his arm when he gets to you, "What did you say to the poor guy?"

"Nothing," he says.

"Didn't look like nothing to me."

"Nothing that you should hear."

"Tom."

"Don't 'Tom' me. We should get going, don't you want to get the fish a thing to live in?"

"A fish tank?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, luckily I saw a place called 'PetSmart' on our way here. I'm going to buy so many decorations for it."

You two walk to the car and put the fish on the floor in the back. You two sit down and as soon as you put your seatbelt on, Tom's lips are on your.

He puts his hand on the back of your neck and holds you in place.

You put a hand on his arm and the other on his shoulder. He bites your bottom lip and you lightly gasp. He slides his tongue in your mouth and slides his against yours.

You kiss him for another few seconds and then pull back breathing heavy. "Goodness me, Tom."

"I love you, you know that?"

You furrow your eyebrows, "Of course I do. I love you, too."

"You wouldn't leave me, right?"

"Tom," you peck his lips. "Never in eternity would I leave you."

"Okay. Let's go get that fish tank," he puts a hand on your thigh and starts driving.

[moremaybank]

HOME THIS CHRISTMAS — j.m

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader prompt: "i thought you were going home for christmas?" - "well, i couldn't leave you all alone." requested: here (ty @drewstarkeyslut) warnings: none naughty or nice ! ౨ৎ

When you first told JJ that you had to fly back home to visit your parents for the holidays, you could see the sorrow in his eyes. He tried his hardest not to let it show, throwing on the best smile he could and saying “That’s great, baby. I know you miss ‘em. I bet they’re thrilled.” 

What he really wanted to do was get on his knees, loop his arms around your legs like a child and beg and plead for you not to leave him. He couldn’t help it. Most of the time growing up, he’d duck out of his house, not too eager to spend quality time with Luke. Quality time in which Luke would spend being wasted out of his mind and souring the mood. John B always had Big John to celebrate with, and now he has Sarah. Kie would stay with her parents and possibly do something at The Wreck to give back during the festive season, and Pope would spend it with his parents as well. 

It’s not like they tried to leave JJ out. That’s just what ended up happening every year. 

But now that the two of you were together, he hoped that he’d finally get to experience Christmas with someone he loved.

Too bad the odds just weren’t in his favour. 

He moped, albeit internally (though you knew him far too well to believe that he was happy, or even simply okay). With the date of your departure rapidly approaching, he grew even more defeated. When you asked him about it, he knew he couldn’t lie to you. But he would just say that he was going to miss you. That he’d been excited to start new holiday traditions with you, but you won’t have the opportunity to do so. And while you argued that you could still do everything he’d planned out before and after you returned, you understood where he was coming from. 

It wouldn’t be the same. 

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t want you to worry about me. I get you all to myself for the majority of the year, you should be able to go visit your family without feeling guilty.” 

Your hands rub a path up and down his brawny arms. “You know, no matter how many times you say not to worry, I still will.” 

He smiles, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “‘N I love you for that, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let your guilt hold you back. You’re goin’.” 

And that was that. 

Or, at least, that’s what JJ thought. 

When JJ woke up on the twenty-third of December, the bed was cold and empty. There was no one scratching his back, kissing up the length of his spine and playing with his hair. No one whispered how pretty he looked as he slept, how tan he was in contrast with the white cotton sheets embracing him. 

His shower was even lonelier than the wake-up had been. Still, he forced himself to continue with his morning routine before begrudgingly getting himself to work. JJ never enjoyed work, but now that he couldn’t look forward to your daily visit…let’s just say he was no longer the ray of sunshine he always was in your company. 

The day dragged on, possibly the slowest he’d ever experienced. He waited for a text or call from you to ensure that you’d reached your destination with all your precious limbs intact. But hours went by, and he hadn’t heard from you. Worry bubbled in his chest, but he just told himself that you were reuniting with everyone, and you couldn’t find a second to pull yourself away from them. 

Meanwhile, you were running around ordering all of JJ’s favourite foods, buying matching pyjama sets and decorating your apartment. You hadn’t bothered to do so earlier since you were planning on being away, and truthfully, you didn’t want JJ to be surrounded by all the reminders of why you weren’t there. 

In hindsight, maybe it would’ve been better to make it homey for him. Especially now that you were on a massive time crunch. 

When you were done, you shot JJ a quick message. 

Hi, baby. Miss you. There’s a surprise waiting for you when you get home. I hope you like it ♡︎

Though he would’ve loved to hear your voice, joy washed over him once he read your message. You were so good to him. You had a habit of acting like a madman every time you had to travel, and in between freaking out the way he knew you were, you took the time out of your busy schedule to brighten up his day.

The drive home felt far too long. He wished for nothing more than to shower, crack open a few beers and chill. Smoke so he could fall asleep without you. 

On another note, his curiosity also ate away at him. He wondered what his crazy girl had left behind for him. 

He stepped inside your shared place, noticing a cast of light coming from the next room. Shit, he thought, she’s gonna kill me if I left the lights on again. But when he reached the room, there you were, wearing red plaid pyjamas and fuzzy socks, standing next to a large pile of presents in front of your brand-new pine tree. 

“What…What are you doin’ here? I thought you were goin’ home for Christmas?” 

You crossed the room, looping your arms around his back and looking up at him. You watched his blue eyes sparkle in the light. 

He’d never looked so delighted. Relieved. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone.”

“But, what about your family? They’re expectin’ you,” he spoke, though he pulled you into him further. “What if they hate me for making you stay here?”

Your head tilted, and your heart melted. He was so disappointed by the thought of having to spend Christmas by himself again, but the first thing that popped into his mind at the sight of you was the idea of your family being upset with him. 

He was too sweet for his own good. 

“You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to stay. It wouldn’t have been Christmas without you. As for my family — who do not hate you, by the way — they’re coming down in a few days. And they can’t wait to meet the boy who makes me happy.” 

He didn’t even respond. Not verbally, anyway. He simply gave you a shining grin, cupped your face and kissed the life out of you. 

Oh, yeah. Best decision ever. 

[haikyu-mp4]

Paradise

word count; 550 – f!reader

You just finished feeding your baby in the nursery before heading down the hallway to check in where your husband was responsible for getting your daughter ready for her first day in school. As you hear him talk, you stop behind the wall, silently leaning against it to take in the slow moment of the morning and listen to two of the three most precious people in your life.

“What do you want for your hair, princess? I was thinking this, maybe?” Tendo said, and you could just imagine him holding up the accessories he thought she looked the cutest with. Your husband might have seemed excited to help her get ready, but you knew him well enough to hear the nervousness behind it. It’s her first day at school and Tendo never had the most luck making friends when he was her age. How unlucky his daughter was to inherit so much of him, he thought sometimes. Curse his insecure thoughts, but he worried for her. “This bow suits your hair colour.” Her fiery red hair.

“Can you do the ballerina bun with the bow, s'il vous plait?” she asked, ever so politely practising her French.

“I can try, but it might not be as good as when your mom does it.” he said with a soft chuckle, already getting the hair gel and proper brush from the cupboard. Your daughter hummed her little songs, reminding you so much of your husband who somehow could follow along with her made-up lyrics.

Satori carefully distributed the tiniest amount of gel he would need throughout her hair and brushed it back, muttering small sorries when it looked like he pulled on some hair he didn’t mean to. After finally getting it in a hair tie, he had to stop and actually breathe. That’s when he noticed a small bump or two on one side, but he knew you could fix that later so he got started on the bun. The final product was nothing short of pretty good.

Your daughter carefully turned around on the step she stood on in front of the sink. “Up, up!” Satori lifted her and spun her around once when she made grabby hands for him to pick her up. Her giggles were such a joy that always filled your house with love. Satori was already thinking that they needed to take lots of pictures before you all left, but then his daughter's arms blocked his vision of the mirror. She was less carefully placing a matching bow in his hair, which the hair clip could barely hold on to at this length. It had grown out a bit since he shaved it last, so the clip held on for now. Pulling her hands back, she smiled at him and clapped. “It suits our hair colour, daddy!”

And when he looked at his beautiful daughter, he didn’t just see what he used to dislike about himself. He also saw so much of you. Your nose, your smile, your love. His daughter is really the most perfect thing he ever laid his eyes on, except maybe you.

Maybe he should trust that the universe has a plan for her, just like it gifted him with this family. His paradise.

“Let’s go make some new friends, miracle girl.”

masterlist

[yurmomsawh0r]

Can I request a one shot for baki with a cute innocent girlfriend in public but when alone together or when no one is looking she's always teasing him and being a naughty girl causing baki needing to put her in her place to be a good girl👉👈

Yes of course! Lol I don’t see many Baki fics and I feel as though there should be more.

Yandere Baki, Teasing, rough sex, cum dumpster! Y/n

-

When you and Baki are together, you guys were the picture perfect couple. It was like you both fit each other perfectly.

A big burly man like him and a super cute girlfriend to match. People always wondered what an innocent female like you were doing with an underground fighter like him.

It was kind of funny actually. You never understood why people thought you were so innocent. Maybe it was your baby face, or just the way you carried yourself around others.

Many people have told you that they would never guess if you were a freaky type of girl. They told you that you seemed kind of like a prude.

It always made you laugh. Especially because you had a habit of teasing Baki at the worst of times.

Like now, right before his match. He looked so good training that it was getting you all hot and bothered. You just wanted to lick the sweat from his abs as he practiced his punches and stance.

He had about 25 minutes before it was his turn to fight, and you only needed about 10.

Baki was facing the mirror, so he could see you perfectly in the reflection. You thought this was perfect.

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t help but slide your hands down from your breast to the in between of your thighs.

Caressing yourself slightly, you could already feel how wet you were.

“Cut it out Y/n.” He spoke out cautiously.

But you didn’t listen. You only smiled at him innocently. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You are. Don’t play dumb.” He said, this time a little more stern which sent a heartbeat to your clit.

Smiling wider, you spread your legs even more, your skirt rising in the process. He could now see your pink lace panties and how wet they were.

You rubbed yourself harder eliciting a moan from your lips.

This caused him to stop his movements and focus on you heavily.

His breathing was getting heavier and his pupils dilated. He looked like how he did in the ring.

Focused and ready to devour his opponent. In this case it was you.

“You just love testing me, don’t you?”

He stalked towards like a predator. It was starting to get you riled up and maybe even a little bit scared.

you started to close your legs, but he quickly smacked your thigh and shook his head.

“Don’t stop now. You started this and now I’m gonna finish it.”

“W-wait what about your match Baki?”

You moaned when his thumb rubbed circles on your clit faster than you did. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about what I’m going to do to you.”

Baki grabbed you and placed you against the wall with your legs around him. “Im getting tired of you always playing these games with me. Especially before a match. It’s very distracting.” He told you as he pulled his boxers down slightly.

His length rubbing against your core.

“Okay, I’ll stop.” You tried. “You said that last time.”

Baki then pulled your soaked panties to the side and slid his entire length inside of you.

You felt so full and he was so deep. He wasted no time thrusting up into you like his life depended on it.

You hoped nobody would come in and hear you. Your wails bouncing off the walls as he fucked you.

“Fuck Baki!”

He knew he had to make this quick. He only had about 15 more minutes before he had to be out there. More determined than ever, he fucked you harder and faster. Loving the way you clung to him while screaming his name. He could feel your cum sliding down to his balls the more he pounded into you.

You felt him imprinting himself into you and you loved it.

“I-I love you!” You cried out, making Baki laugh.

He didn’t say it back. A way to make you feel humiliated, but he did love you. He just wanted to punish you for now.

A few more thrust before he pulled out quickly, dropping you onto the floor, jerking all his cum onto your face and body.

He grunted until the last drop feel from him.

“Stay like this until I get back, don’t you dare move either. I’m not done with you.”

Was all he said before pulling up his pants and heading out to his match.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

A never-ending Worry

(A/N): Ikea gave me a big anxiety attack the other day. Here we are now.

Summary: Reader discovers her own anxiety together with Max through several instances.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Wordcount: 2k

🏎Masterlist🏎 _____________________ Anxiety is a peculiar thing, especially when you suffer from it. It is for (Y/N) at least.

Ever since her first anxiety attack at the ripe age of 16 years, (Y/n) started to worry. About everything. All the damn time. Her head is running the whole time, thinking about different scenarios that could happen. Like her best friend once said:

“The possibility of a baby killing you is slim, but never zero.”

Maybe the possibilities for any of the “what ifs” really happening is low, but she will be prepared if it does happen. It’s an odd sense of safety she can find refuge in, especially in a world of unpredictability.

This is where the peculiarity comes into play. She does not have the knowledge or vocabulary to describe it all.

But (Y/N) never really talked about her constant worries coupled with a never ending feeling of nervousness. Never spoke of this feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everyone feels like that, right?

“Hey Schatje? How many pairs of underwear have you packed for us?” Max called out for (Y/N) as he unpacked their suitcases, that his girlfriend herself packed for the two a couple of days before the trip even started.

A bit befuddled by his question, (Y/N) walks from the kitchen of the rental apartment, where she just finished putting away the groceries they got from their first run to the supermarket, to the bedroom.

“10 pairs for each of us. Do you think it won’t be enough? We can still go out and get some more tomorrow.” Max halts his movements for a second to check if her serious tone matches her face.

It does.

His girlfriend really means what she said.

“No, they will definitely suffice. You do know that we are here for only four days, right?” Max smiles at her. Maybe she just got something mixed up.

“Yes, of course. I planned our activities. It would be bad if I didn’t know about the length of our vacation.” She laughs to herself while moving to help Max unpacking. “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, nothing particular. Just checking.” Ok so. It is a thing for many women to overpack, especially regarding their underwear. “Can you explain your thoughts on the number to me? Why did you decide to pack 20 pairs of underpants in total?”

(Y/N) throws him a look. “Well, we need at least four, one for each day. Then I doubled that number, because something could have gone wrong on our car ride here or will on our way back, making us stay on vacation longer. Then eight felt like it’s not enough. Adding to the extra days, an accident could happen that makes you need an extra pair a day, right? And nine is an odd number that is not even a prime number, so I rounded up to ten. Completely logical.”

Well, it’s logical to her at least. Max was partially amazed by her train of thoughts and worries. He just let it be like that. After all, it’s just over packing and he loves how prepared she is in any given situation.

Prepared (Y/N) is. Always.

“Man, it is so hot, my fingers are sticky with sweat.” Daniel complaints. It’s a race weekend in Singapore and the Aussie is right. It is hot.

(Y/N), who walks with Daniel around the paddock while she waits for Max to get out of a meeting, starts to rummage in her backpack. The back she carries with her all the time. It’s close to iconic.

“Here is some hand disinfectant. It makes you feel a bit less sticky.”

Daniel smiles thankfully while taking the little bottle from the female’s hands. “Thank you. I just need to remember to put on some lotion, I don’t want my hands to dry out.”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, she replaces the disinfectant with another small bottle. “Don’t worry, I got you girl.” She winks at the Aussie.

“Oh wow, do you have everything important with you? Can you flee the country with that backpack spontaneously?” Daniel jokes, but it goes over her head.

“Yes, pretty much. I got a small first aid kit, my laptop and all needed chargers for my electronics. Oh, and my passport and IDs of course. Ah, and some small knick-knacks and snacks. Gotta be prepared for the worst case scenario, right?” Her seriousness unsettles something in the driver. But he kind of lets it go, just nodding to her statement. She is right, at least a bit, after all.

“Do you get more nervous when you get into the car? Or is your level of nervousness on the same level?

(Y/N) and Max cuddle in bed back in the safety of their home in Monaco. While asking the question in the wariness of the night, she traces the same shapes over and over again in her partner’s skin. It gives her an odd feeling of safety, the repetition.

Max has a confused look on his face. “What do you mean?” “Well, does your level of feeling nervous rise from the usual one before or during a race?” It sounds plausible to her. But it doesn’t for him.

Max sits up, leaning his upper body against the headboard to have a better look at his girlfriend. “Yes, it does rise, because my usual level of nervousness is zero like for everyone else. Of course I feel different from that, when I get into the car that can bring me over the finish line as a winner. I don’t get the question.”

(Y/N) blinks at him with a frown. “Not- no, not everyone’s level is zero. It’s really just for you that low.” Of course Max is always cool as a cucumber. He only gets this feeling in extreme situations.

“Oh Schtaje. It’s really not. Most people don’t feel nervous often. Do you?” He pulled her close to him, enveloping her completely.

“Not always. Right now, I’m not. But that is, because I’m with you. I know that together we can solve anything.” Max senses that (Y/N) doesn’t want to continue the conversation. He lets it be another time, partially to not make her feel completely uncomfortable in a peaceful moment, partially because he wants to do some research.

Her conversation with her boyfriend sparked something inside (Y/N). Hearing that not everyone is feeling the same way she does, it’s a lot to take in. So she started to do some reading of her own.

Many people on the internet describe the same moments she has: Constant nervousness, the need of being prepared at all times or she’ll break out in a sweat, plus the endless worrying.

And the sudden bursts of intense panic. These moments, where an all consuming fear grips her whole body into a chokehold. That makes her breaths become heavier and her thoughts even faster.

Reading about similar experiences to hers, it makes (Y/N) feel less alone. But one word stood out to her.

Anxiety.

She heard of it and has seen the portrayals on TV. But those are not what she feels. Or is it?

Everything and nothing make sense at the same time.

“Do you want to drive?” Max offers as they get ready to go out for dinner at a restaurant that is a tad too far away to be considered walkable distance. He regularly lets her drive, it’s a bit of emancipation. Why shouldn’t she drive when she has a license for that?

(Y/N) shakes her head no. “I don’t like today’s thoughts. I also feel extra nervous right now, I couldn’t find the menu of the restaurant online.” Max nods, understanding what kind of thoughts she is talking about - intrusive thoughts.

He also appreciates her openness with him about those feelings. “It’s ok, Schatje. I love driving for you, it’s my favorite kind of ride. We will also find something for you, we can order some dishes and share them until you decide which one you want.” He gives her a reassuring kiss on the cheek, hoping to ease up her worries.

During the drive, she holds his hand on the control stick. “It’s good to have you back. Last night I woke up in a panic and thought something must have happened to you on your flight and that this was the reason I had this huge anxiety attack. I couldn’t sleep until you texted me this morning when you landed at the airport.”

His heart grows heavy at that confession. He hasn’t known the extent of her anxious feelings. Max didn’t know how much they overshadowed her in her daily life.

(Y/N) herself never realized how much she has been hindered in her routines by her own thoughts and worries.

“It wasn’t the first time this happened. But it was the worst it has been so far. I thought you died. I waited for my phone to ring or the police to stand at the door, getting notified that you died in a plane crash. I already planned the next steps I had to take from there in my head.” (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look at her boyfriend after this admission.

It is weird to say something out loud, that she used to bury deep inside of her. This kind of vulnerability, it makes her want to crawl back into that hole again.

Over the last couple of weeks she realized that those spiraling thoughts are not here to make her feel safe. That the need of over preparedness is not necessary. That her anxious feelings are not some signs of something bad.

These thoughts are false friends, waiting for your demise, your downfall, to be able to say “I told you so”.

But where to go from here, from the realization of something going gravely wrong, to getting a grip of the situation. To make it all go away?

Max squeezes her hand before putting a kiss on it without taking his eyes off the road. “I’m here for you. I want to hear all those thoughts. As silly as they may sound out loud. I can help you in differentiating if they are necessary, needed, thoughts or if they are the product of overthinking. I want to help you. I want you to not feel anxious all the time. I want to help you through the anxiety attacks. We can get counseling - for only you or together. Just, let me be here for you during every step you take.”

His pleading brings tears to (Y/N)’s eyes. She didn’t know how noticeable her anxiety issues were to outsiders. She doesn’t know what it feels like for Max, seeing her in her most anxious states.

“Yes”, she answers him, “I want you to be here with me. I don’t know if I can do it on my own.” “You don’t need to find out. I’ll be there, for better or for worse.”

Turns out, Max’ deadpan and brutal honesty is exactly what (Y/N) needs.

The evening, where he was away for a race and she had to stay behind, because of her own work schedule. (Y/N) called him in the middle of a not very pretty anxiety attack. “I have this doctor’s appointment. It’s a check-up for my physical health. And what if I-I’m deathly sick and we are catching onto that only now?”

“This is a dumb thought.”

The female halts in her movements. Is it a dumb thought?

“I mean, yes. I regularly go out to donate blood. But maybe they haven’t caught something important accidentally.”

“That is stupid and unlikely.”

She stops again. “You are right. I actually have nothing to worry about.”

The road to having less anxiety is a twisted one, paved by setbacks and a small gap between succeeding and failing. But with Max as a passenger princess on that path (Y/N) knows she got it.

She will be ok, eventually.

[silentmoths]

Acts of Service

The voices are still whispering and @dustofthedailylife may or may not have implanted some brainrot as we both sat and mutually gushed about how blade is a misunderstood wet dog of a man.

Blade x Reader (gn, no actual gender mentioned)

SFW, fluff and Comfort ig...honestly I dont really knoww hat to tag this one as other than just...my own ramblings abt how blade isnt just a bloodthirsty killer just LOOK AT HIM PLEASE- Not proofread, 1.2K words

When asked about Blade, most everyone would reply that he is cold, standoffish and intimidating. He looks like the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to end you if you accidentally put pickles on his burger.

The Stellaron Hunters would say otherwise; sure, he looks intimidating, but he’s actually a calm, thoughtful guy. The kind of man who, after several years of living with solely women, doesn’t even question when Silver Wolf, Kafka or Firefly ask him if he can go to the store, he already knows, hell- half the time, he’s already got what they need, and if he doesn't? He knows what they want before they even say it. 

He’s more attentive than people give him credit for, like a cat, lingering in the corner, but keeping watch over his territory and those he has deemed ‘his’ people. A wallflower some might say…just...one that would occasionally lash out if he deemed someone’s presence unworthy or unwelcome.

He is far sweeter than people believe, the rumours about his bloodthirsty and violent nature, and the bounty to match only serving to cover up the man beneath, the man he keeps out of the public eye the most.

Because for you? For you, he’s never been anything but attentive and kind.

He would never say it, but everything he does for you screams the lengths he would go, he would move mountains for you, destroy planets, solar systems, entire galaxies if he had to. 

It was in how he touched you; bandaged fingers always always careful, no matter how many times you assured him that you were not made of glass. It wasn't fear, you think, that kept him in this state, more like a reverence, like he was a child, and you were his most precious treasure, something he would not, or could not dare break, fold or crease. 

It was the way he always leaned his head down whenever you spoke to him, not condescending, but acknowledging. Even if his eyes were elsewhere, he always makes a point to let you know he’s listening. He takes your suggestions to heart always, he listens to your woes, sometimes he will offer words of encouragement, and sometimes he will offer his sword, if that was what would rid you of your problem faster.

(you had yet to take him up on the offer of the sword)

It was the way he cooked, despite seldom eating himself. He claims that food is simply nutrients for his body, and when he eats for himself, it is almost always something plain and easy to procure…but if he had deemed it long enough that you, or the other’s had gone without, he would rise from the couch and cook a meal that was far more complex, he was a surprisingly good cook, Xianzhou cuisine etched into his muscle memory to the point you’re sure he could make some of these dishes with his eyes closed…and yet it was only ever for you, for the girls, for literally anyone he cared enough for but himself, that he would showcase this ability for. 

You knew he struggled with memory, with himself, with his past and his present. He never verbally acknowledged it, and you think it’s because he doesn’t want you to worry; but you worry anyway, because it’s Blade, and with all the time and care he puts into you and the other Stellaron Hunters, you think he deserves that much. 

He’s far fonder of physical touch than he lets on. He claims he cares little, but the fact he seemingly physically cannot fall asleep unless he’s holding something close to his chest states otherwise. In the privacy of his own quarters with you, it’s rare that you part. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, Blade wants to be a part of it, no matter how big or small. Reading? You find yourself pulled into his lap as he leans against the wall, working on something? There’s usually a hand on your thigh, or an arm wrapped around your waist.

He liked to bite on occasion too. Nothing wholly terrible…a love language with no words. The soft nibbling of teeth along your shoulder as he holds you, or the way he would timetimes lift your hand, just to bite down onto it- this could could mean a thousand different things that he couldn’t say; ’I missed you’.

’Don’t be gone so long, next time.’

’I love you.’

You don’t need to know the exact meaning, his presence, and the act in itself was enough.

Blade liked to claim his body was nothing but a weapon, he did not understand why you saw attraction in it, but he doesn’t stop you either as you carefully unbind the bandages to see him properly. 

Nor does he realise that the scars littering his body are far more sensitive than he gave them credit for. Each scar was a story, but a story lost to the mara; his memory too foggy to discern most all of them.

All but one.

His chest, the large, jagged scar that took up near all the space of his right pectoral, long, long since healed over, but still visible. Slightly redder than the rest of his skin, pulled tight, especially just over his heart. You knew, of course, about Dan Feng, about why Blade hunted his reincarnation, but to see the scar made something twist in your gut.

Slowly, you reach out to brush your fingers along the centre, for a brief moment you feel Blade’s rabbiting heartbeat before the man lurches- his hand gripping your wrist like a vice, the pressure only growing stronger as he scowls, you gasp out as you feel your bones creak.

And just like that, the pressure lifts, the wild, frenzied look in his one visible eye fades and you see the rare flicker of concern as he hunches, his hand no longer squeezing, but cradling your wrist as his other arm comes to brace against your back. He looks horrified with himself, at what he’d done. 

“I-” He chokes out after a long moment of just…staring. “I didn’t-” 

You know, you know he didn’t mean it. You weren’t upset; perhaps a little spooked yes, but not upset. Scars held pain long thought healed, yet no matter how faded, they could still sting.

“It’s ok.” you whisper, lifting your other hand to brush some of his bangs out of the way, catching a rare glimpse of his usually covered eye. He looked like a kicked puppy, like he was expecting you to toss him out in the rain. 

You could never.

You don’t need to say anything else, knowing too much reassurance would only lead to Blade second guessing things, so you content yourself with pressing your uninjured hand to his cheek and smiling. Watching as Blade leans down and quietly presses kiss after kiss along the wrist he’d nearly snapped.

It was in these acts of service that he showed he truly cared.

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y @queen-belial Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Velvet Love 🔞

The things he says never match the smile he's got on his lips.

Tags/Warnings: Yandere AU, Idol!Jungkook, graphic description of gore (briefly), twisted kook, description of mental insanity

Length: Short

Belongs to: Velvet Heart (but can be read as a standalone)

!! Disclaimer: I do not believe Jeon Jungkook to be like this, God no. This is pure fiction and meant to be seen as nothing but entertainment. Thank you.

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"Alright how long will it be?" Jungkook asks as everyone gets ready for the shoot. "I really need to be home by 6 tonight, latest, or I might have to murder someone this time." He chuckles, voice light as he taps away on his phone, the stylist's hands stuttering a bit as everyone glances away uncomfortably from the idol. "What? Am I not getting an answer?" He asks innocently, looking around.

"I-we can't tell yet how long it'll take." The director says. "But we'll try and get it done as quickly as we can." He hurries out at the eye contact Jungkook holds with the man, dark orbs unmoving as they focus on the older man silently.

Before the singer smiles.

"No problem, I just don't wanna go home so late again." He shrugs, slumping down into his seat a little.

He's in a good mood today. That's not the norm- no one can really ever tell what kind of emotions go through him each day. While he used to be like this almost all the time back when he was younger, something had changed these days. Now, no one can tell if the words he says are to be taken as a joke, or as a threat.

Sometimes, like today, it feels like nothing's wrong again. As if the old Jungkook had returned, wiping away all the scary and unnerving changes that happened over the course of the last few years away, turning those things into nothing but a bad dream.

The shooting is fun. Everyone's light hearted again. The air feels easy.

"You think the challenge will be easy for you?" A staff member asks Jungkook in the back of the car as they all play a game of hide and seek in a way. He's supposed to find the rest of the members with small cues and nothing else. He chuckles.

"Easy." He laughs. "I'm good at games like these. No one gets away from me." He chuckles, and again, the mood shifts for a second.

He smiles. He's teasing, joking- probably. But no one is able to not hear any underlying implications He might be putting into his words.

So when the shooting ends, and its barely 5, Jungkook grins brightly as he leaves to go home.

And only then does anybody dare to breathe freely again.

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"Do you think he'd ever..." Jimin mumbles, sitting with the rest of the band backstage as they eat something, Jungkook not attending as usual. He's almost always rushing home to you right after his schedule, never staying behind for longer than necessary as if he'd run out of oxygen to breathe if he was to be apart from your presence for too long. "..I- you know what I mean, right?" Jimin says quietly, and Namjoon sighs.

"I'd like to believe he wouldn't." Hoseok says lowly. "I want to.. believe he wouldn't do that." He says, but he's not believing it.

But he, as well as others, have seen what Jungkook is capable of.

He choked Taehyung before, to the point of the singer's face turning blue. Jungkook doesn't shout, doesn't yell, never seems to voice out his anger, but rather acts on it instead. He breaks furniture, smashes holes into walls, but his favorite is always to hurt. He does it with such a calm nature that it's truly unnerving to see.

It eliminates any way of truly telling if he's ever joking or honest when he tells one of his more twisted jokes.

"But I think we're all aware that he's very much capable of it." Namjoon says with a lot more control than the others. "No one's ever safe around him. You've heard how he talks; at this point, I believe every word he tells about violence." He explains. He knows Jimin is worried for you- after all, he's the only one who ever had any true interaction with you- he knows the singer feels for your safety, wants to somehow get you out of your situation.

But he also needs to remember that if Jungkook ever found out about this, he'd probably be a dead man.

"Dont you think we should do something then?" Jimin says, just like Namjoon had expected.

"The only thing you can do is not think about it." Seokjin offers soberly. "Then it'll hurt less."

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You're beginning to try and speak more, and Jungkook worries it might become a problem at some point.

He can't have you babble about what goes on behind closed doors to others after all- what if you tell someone your address by accident, or how he's bought you a collar with a tracking device just to check where you go each day?

Of course, technically, he doesn't need it. You never leave the house after all, because you're just a good girl like that- and because the stories he tells you have made you afraid enough to never dare set foot beyond the apartment door ever. He doesn't ever make his stories too gruesome- mainly because he knows it'll make you a little too clingy, so he always depicts himself as the immortal God that cannot be harmed by any of the things he makes up. But you can be killed. You're mortal. A bag of flesh, ready to be devoured by the beasts that roam the streets outside of the safety of these walls.

You need him to survive. And he needs you to believe that.

He enjoys that you don't speak much. The noises you make and the gestures you've created to communicate are nothing shy of adorable to him after all, and any progress at proper human communication would ruin that feature of you for him. He doesn't want that- you're perfect just like this, like a pet, simply existing for him only, surviving because he wants you to.

You're alive because he allows it.

"I'll be home the entire week baby." He hums to you on his chest. "They've kept me hostage for way too much recently. I'll be with you for the entire week, I promise." He says, and you just smile, mesmerized by whatever he's saying. "You've got no idea what I'm telling you, stupid little thing?" He chuckles, and you smile as well, happily receiving his affection.

He loves it like this.

And he'll do everything and anything to keep it this way.

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Would he ever kill? Truly take a life so it never returns?

He doesn't know. He's never been pushed to that degree to find out if he's capable of it. But he knows, he sometimes gets the somewhat of an urge - if not himself, then his brain rather comes up with sick and twisted thoughts of you.

His mind starts to bend memories of you into shapes unfamiliar, his hands no longer holding yours but rather bending you over his thigh until your spine cracks and breaks in half.

He gets scared of these thoughts. It's like they're not his.

He becomes fearful whenever he dreams of your chest split open by his own hands, fingers tracing each of your exposed ribs while he can't see anything but red. He knows you'd been broken before, mentally at least. Would he end up being the one to break you physically?

Maybe it's his fear of possibly losing you.

He makes love to you painfully slowly, carefully, and yet he sometimes can't help himself but to make you up as his. Never to the degree of inflicting true damage, but just to show his own actions are still under control.

He's a rabid animal, a pet once loved but now sick and deseased, truly on the verge of wasting away.

And no one around him wants to admit it.

Not while there's still traces of the old him inside.

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[ccalhoun]

≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

carlisle cullen x gn! reader n.sfw abc's! warnings: gender neutral reader, human reader, sub/bottom reader, dom/top carlisle, smut/nsfw, vampires/blood mentions, small parts of twilight lore, various kinks im too tired to write out wc: 1.5k cut for length!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

extremely caring, always. he is a doctor after all! he'll bring you water and a snack if you need it, and he'll insist on carrying you to the bathroom afterwards even if you can walk fine, he'll make sure you pee to decrease risks of uti's and run a shower (or bath, depending on how hard he went ;))

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

his favorite body part of his would most likely be his hands, he adores the way you squirm and whine when he fingers you, or the way you instantly listen to whatever's he's saying when he grabs your chin, how could he not love his hands when they made you so happy?

his favorite body part of yours is your neck, he feels guilty over it but every time he's close to you, head buried in your neck and shoulder as he's fucking you, all he can think about is how sweet your blood smells and how close he is to it. how easy it would be to just bite you and taste the red liquid that was no doubt the sweetest thing he would've ever tasted in his hundreds of years.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i think carlisle would be fine with cumming anywhere, he would never want to make you upset or uncomfortable so if you set a boundary he'll do nothing but respect it. but he 110% prefers cumming in you. it just feels more intimate, and he wants to be as close to you as he can possibly get

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants to feed from you, he would never tell you this or even think of it while around you! however, when it's been awhile since the last hunt and he's feeling needy the only thing that can seem to fill his brain is his lovely little mate sleeping soundly in the bed he bought and put in his room just for you. and the part that makes him feel even more guilty? it makes him insanely hard to think about how hard you'd cry if he were to feed from you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

he is VERY experienced. he has been alive since before your great grandma was even a thought. he's had more than his fair share of pleasing both men and women, he knows many techniques and him being a doctor he knows every part of your body better than you do! combined with him carefully studying your reactions while he pleases you? he could have you cumming in seconds if the circumstances were right.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves any position that you love, he's probably tried just about every position and could recommend a few that he knows would increase your pleasure or make you more comfortable.

his preference definitely depends on how he's feeling, if he wants to be closer to you or is just feeling affectionate he'll either go with spooning or missionary. if he wants to be a little bit more rough, he'll definitely do face down ass up as he likes the control it gives him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

carlisle would lean towards a bit silly in the moment especially if you have anxiety or are just nervous. he wouldnt want you to feel intimidated or scared! if you ask him, he would be completely serious but he's carlisle for gods sake, nothing can prevent his adorable smile from shining through.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

very well groomed, most likely wouldnt be clean shaven as vampires cant grow hair and i cant imagine a doctor being ok with no pubic hair even if he doesnt have to worry about getting diseases.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's very intimate and caring, he would lay out rose petals and light candles if you were comfortable with it. at LEAST once a month he'll make you let him pamper you, cook you a nice hot meal, run you a bubble bath, and listen to your every demand. no matter the time or place, he will always be as romantic as he can be when it comes to you!

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn't like jacking off, he wouldn't unless you asked him for whatever reason. he has extreme patience from living for nearly 400 years, he will always wait until the next time he can meet with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

doctor/sir kink, breeding kink, possessive kink? it makes him embarrassingly horny to think of you belonging to him, not much of a kink but he always wants to hold your hand when he cums

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere, as long as its with you. but, if he had to choose, probably your bed since it's where you seem the most comfortable and he always wants to pamper you!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

just you, smelling the scent of your blood when you get closer, your voice, your eyes, your smile, anything could get him going as long as its you. if you want him to get into bed asap, just say anything about you being his and he'll take you away before you even know he picked you up

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

hurt you. he could never forgive himself, even if you asked for him to be rough he would never do anything to cause you any pain. his heart drops when you get a papercut, he didn't even want to think about what he would do if he was the cause of your pain.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

definitely prefers giving, he'd never say no if you offered to suck him off, but before sex he has to eat you out until you cum at least once, preferably twice if you'll let him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he finds the perfect pace for you, listening to your heartbeat and picking up on every hitch of your breath, staring at your face intently to see any slight changes to indicate what feels good. if you ask him to go faster or slower of course he'll listen, he'll do anything you ask

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he hates quickies, he wants to take his time making you feel good. if you're not somewhere where he can take his time but you want to have sex, he'll just pick you up and run you home.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he knows more than anyone that some experimentation is healthy! he'll try anything you want at least once, and because of his heightened senses he doesn't have to worry about getting caught!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can go as long as he wants, because he's a vampire he doesn't need any time to recover after an orgasm and he has a seemingly endless supply of energy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he'd be willing to use toys, he doesn't have much experience of his own with toys but if you told him what you want to try he'd buy it for you, money is no issue for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he LOVES teasing you, he can't help it. seeing you whining and desperate for him, and if he can get you begging? he'd become even more infatuated with you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

naturally, he isn't very loud, mostly small grunts and groans. if you confessed that you like hearing him, he'd be willing to let go more and let more sounds slip out. but he does love your noises and he'd be lying if he said he didn't control his volume to be able to hear more of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves making out with you, it feels so intimate to him. just holding you and kissing you for as long as either of you want. of course, he'll give you time to breath where he'll kiss your neck and let your breathing stabilize before kissing you again.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

big, very big. as a human he was more of a grower, but as a vampire it's at his full human length plus an inch at all times. so about 7 inches, and GIRTHY.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

very high, higher than any human. he could go for days if he really wanted to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

obviously can't sleep, but he loves watching you sleep after. he's fine with letting you sleep while he cleans up everything. you look so at peace when you sleep, he could stare at you for hours, and he does. ≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺