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estemedicalgroup01 · 10 months

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Discover the Beauty of Transformation: Nose Job Expertise in Turkey

In the realm of aesthetic transformations, one procedure stands out as a powerful catalyst for change – the nose job, or rhinoplasty. Renowned for its ability to enhance facial harmony and boost self-confidence, rhinoplasty has become increasingly popular worldwide. Among the myriad destinations offering this transformative surgery, Turkey has emerged as a hotspot for individuals seeking not only skilled surgeons but also a unique cultural experience.

The Surge of Medical Tourism in Turkey:

Turkey has earned a stellar reputation in the field of medical tourism, and rhinoplasty is a significant contributor to its growing appeal. The country seamlessly blends advanced medical facilities, internationally acclaimed surgeons, and a rich cultural tapestry, making it an enticing destination for those considering a nose job in Turkey.

Why Turkey for Rhinoplasty?

Expertise of Renowned Surgeons: Turkey boasts a cadre of highly skilled and board-certified plastic surgeons who specialize in rhinoplasty. These professionals bring a wealth of experience and expertise to the operating table, ensuring patients receive world-class care and achieve their desired results.

Cutting-Edge Medical Facilities: The medical infrastructure in Turkey is on par with global standards, featuring state-of-the-art facilities equipped with the latest technological advancements. From pre-operative consultations to post-operative care, patients can expect a seamless and comfortable experience throughout their rhinoplasty journey.

Affordability without Compromise: One of the key attractions of undergoing rhinoplasty in Turkey is the cost-effectiveness. The overall expenses, including surgeon fees, facility costs, and accommodation, are often more affordable compared to many Western countries. This affordability does not compromise the quality of care or the standard of the procedure, making it an attractive option for budget-conscious individuals.

Diverse Cultural Experience: Beyond the surgical aspects, Turkey offers a unique blend of history, culture, and natural beauty. Patients can immerse themselves in the mesmerizing landscapes, explore ancient sites, and savor the renowned Turkish hospitality. The country's vibrant atmosphere provides a therapeutic backdrop for recovery and enhances the overall transformative experience.

Tailored Approach to Beauty: Turkish surgeons understand that beauty is subjective and varies from person to person. They adopt a personalized approach to rhinoplasty, considering each patient's unique facial features, preferences, and cultural background. This emphasis on individualized care ensures that the results are not only aesthetically pleasing but also harmonious with the patient's overall appearance.

Patient Testimonials:

The success stories of individuals who have undergone rhinoplasty in Turkey speak volumes about the country's prowess in cosmetic surgery. Many patients express their satisfaction with the results and commend the surgeons for their meticulous attention to detail and commitment to patient well-being. From corrective surgeries to enhancements, Turkey has become a destination where individuals can confidently embark on their journey of transformation.

Conclusion:

Embarking on the journey of aesthetic transformation through rhinoplasty is a significant decision, and choosing the right destination is paramount to a successful outcome. Turkey, with its blend of expert surgeons, world-class medical facilities, affordability, and rich cultural experience, has positioned itself as a top choice for individuals seeking a nose job. Beyond the physical transformation, patients find solace in the country's warm hospitality and diverse offerings, creating a holistic experience that goes beyond the confines of a surgical procedure. Discover the beauty of transformation in Turkey, where skilled hands sculpt not just noses but also newfound confidence and self-esteem.

#nose job turkey

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vorpal-doll · 6 months

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prob one of the best compliments I could get after flying across the world last year to get a nose job 🥹🖤 knowing it was all worth it & loving how I look now

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thehealthstoreturkey · 11 months

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Hi all!

We will start posting content around Medical Tourism in Turkey, you can learn more on our website www.thehealthstoreturkey.com/ we hope you enjoy our content :)

#medical tourism #turkey #weight loss #dental implants #dental treatment #mommy makeover #gastric sleeve #gastric bypass #hair transplant #hair loss #breast implants #plasticsurgery #nose job #rhinoplasty

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bettermesurgery · 1 year

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Nose Job Turkey All Inclusive to Give the Right Shape to Nose

The right shape of nose with no nasal problems not only increases your overall beauty, but your confidence too that you want to keep maintained during any event, at public places and even anywhere. Now, with the medical science has been witnessing a significant transformation, it is easy to get the right nose shape through surgery. Rhinoplasty or nose job is done by professional plastic surgeons to give the right shape to your nose and provide you with the solutions for nasal problems. For your convenience, some of the recognized plastic surgery clinics have come up with nose job Turkey all inclusive.

What Rhinoplasty Can Treat?

Rhinoplasty or nose job is recommended to treat varied aspects of nose and nasal area.

Nose size in relation to facial balance can be done perfectly through this surgery

Nose width at the bridge or in the size and positions of the nostrils are provided

Nose profile with visible humps or depressions on the bridge are offered through nose job

Nasal asymmetry, nostrils that are large, wide or upturned are treated

Nasal tip that is enlarged or bulbous, drooping, upturned or hooked is solved successfully through this method.

BetterMe Surgery is a one stop trusted and recognized name in this domain offering you nose job Turkey all inclusive. You have to schedule an appointment according to your specifications and leave rest of the work on experts working here. Your satisfaction is an achievement for them and they ensure you will get world-class treatment.

#Nose job turkey all inclusive #Nose reshaping turkey #Turkey nose job cost #Best nose surgeon in turkey

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meltemkara27 · 1 year

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Rhinoplasty sometimes referred to as a "nose job" or "nose reshaping" by patients, enhances facial harmony and the proportions of your nose. It can also correct impaired breathing caused by structural defects in the nose.

#Rhinoplasty #turkey #nose job

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breastimplantturkey · 1 year

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Enhance Your Beauty with Breast Enlargement in Turkey and Nose Job in Istanbul

When it comes to enhancing your beauty and boosting your self-confidence, FlyHealth offers a unique opportunity to combine cosmetic procedures with an unforgettable travel experience. With their extensive expertise in medical tourism, FlyHealth provides access to highly skilled plastic surgeons and state-of-the-art clinics in Turkey, renowned for their exceptional outcomes.

Breast Enlargement in Turkey:

Breast enlargement, or augmentation, is a popular cosmetic procedure sought by women looking to enhance the size and shape of their breasts. Turkey has emerged as a leading destination for breast enlargement surgery, attracting patients from around the world. FlyHealth partners with board-certified plastic surgeons who utilize advanced techniques, such as breast implants or fat transfer, to deliver natural-looking and satisfying results. Coupled with affordable prices, Turkey offers a cost-effective option without compromising on quality and safety.

Nose Job in Istanbul:

A well-proportioned nose can significantly enhance facial harmony and boost confidence. FlyHealth's nose job packages in Istanbul provide access to renowned rhinoplasty experts who specialize in creating balanced and aesthetically pleasing noses. Whether you desire to correct a deviated septum, reduce the size of your nose, or refine its shape, FlyHealth's team will guide you through the process, from pre-surgery consultations to post-operative care. Benefit from the latest surgical techniques and modern clinics in Istanbul, all while experiencing the city's rich history and vibrant culture.

FlyHealth's commitment to patient satisfaction extends beyond the operating room. They offer comprehensive packages that include personalized care, accommodation, airport transfers, and a dedicated host to accompany you throughout your journey. Their team of experienced professionals ensures your comfort and safety at every step, allowing you to focus solely on your transformation and recovery.

Embark on a journey of self-enhancement with FlyHealth, and experience the blend of top-tier medical expertise and cultural exploration that Turkey has to offer. With breast enlargement and nose job procedures in Turkey, you can achieve the beauty you desire while discovering the wonders of Istanbul. Trust FlyHealth to make your cosmetic dreams a reality, leaving you with enhanced confidence and lifelong memories.

#Breast Enlargement Turkey #Nose Job Istanbul

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lovebugism · 9 months

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SAYING UGLY THINGS ON CHRISTMAS EVE WITH STEBE PLEASEEEEEEE

let's just pretend it's still christmas ok? hope you like it angel! — steve gets cruel when he's anxious, and with his parents coming to town, he's practically a timebomb (ditzy!fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 2.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You were only trying to help.

Really, you were.

Steve’s been stressing himself sick about his parents coming over, and you’ve been following him around with your heart in your throat, trying to help him before he totally implodes.

He’s always a ticking time bomb when his parents are in town. He doesn’t know how to be anything else when it comes to them. He doesn’t know how to be anything other than perfect because he’s terrified of his mom’s backhanded compliments and his dad’s sneering replies.

He always turns into his teenage self when he’s scared — and there’s nothing more terrifying than being a teenager again.

You know all this, so you try your best to be supportive when he gets in moods like these. When he’s on edge and fussing over every little thing. You help him dust the top of the fridge and organize the spice cabinet and wipe down all the windows — even though you know his parents won’t notice, or otherwise care, about any of it.

And then, when you finally get the buzzing ball of anxiety to cuddle up with you on the couch, you manage to screw everything up all over again.

His head is on your chest, wild hair still drying from his shower. You hear him sniff once, then twice. “What’s that smell?” he wonders, not entirely apprehensive ‘cause the TV’s got most of his attention.

“What smell?” you ask, more distracted than he is.

His weight on you is a comforting one. You pet him like a cat accordingly — one palm rubbing up and down the length of his back and the other curling in his hair. With your nose among the chestnut strands, you don’t smell anything other than his floral shampoo.

“It smells like something’s burning.”

You pull back from him and sniff hard once. It smells a bit smoky, like cooking something over a campfire. Because something is burning. Your heart plummets to your stomach at the realization.

“Oh…” you hum under your breath, blood running ice-cold.

Steve only tenses up because you do. Your warm hands on his body go suddenly rigid. His scruffy chin rubs against the chest of your sweater when he turns to look at you. His honey eyes twinkle with confusion and concern. “Oh, what?”

“I think that might be the turkey…” you answer in a tiny voice because you know what’s coming.

“The what?”

“I put it in while you were in the shower, ‘cause you were so worried it wouldn’t get done in time—”

“Shit, babe!” he blurts and pushes himself off the couch. He rushes towards the kitchen without another look your way. You follow behind him like a puppy and hopelessly try to explain yourself.

“—And then you wanted to cuddle after, so I laid down and totally forgot about it!”

“So you’re saying it’s my fault?” he scoffs and swings the door of the stove down. He flinches at the billowing gray smoke. He rises again and rummages through an adjacent drawer, in search of oven mitts.

Your face swirls with confusion. “No!”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I forgot!”

“That’s not an excuse, babe!” He grimaces as he reaches into the hot oven. The tray clatters to the stove with a smoking turkey on top. It’s not totally burnt, but it’s hard as a rock and charred all over. Neither of you are chefs, but you could probably guess it’s less than edible.

“Shit…” Steve huffs under his breath. His hands fall to his waist and he cocks a hip to the side, blinking at the molten turkey before him because he’s at a loss for what to do now.

You stand just behind him, cowering as you wring your hands together. You feel small, like a child moments away from getting scolded. “I’m sorry, Steve,” you murmur, voice wavering. “I just wanted to help—”

He laughs loud. A bitter scoff, at most. “Well, you did a great job of that, didn’t you?” he says with a sour smile on his plush pink lips.

Tears burn the backs of your eyes. You decide to blame it on the lingering smoke.

“I said I was sorry,” you insist in a tiny voice, trying your best to stand up for yourself. You fucked up. Both of you know it. Rubbing salt in the wound doesn’t help anything.

“That doesn’t fix it, baby!” he argues, hands gesticulating wildly when he turns to you. His chiseled features are sharp with anger, but you decide to count your blessings ‘cause he’s still calling you baby. He only uses your real name when he’s really upset.

“I’m gonna have to go all the way to the store and make it all over again!”

“I’ll pay for it, Stevie, it’s okay—”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“My parents are coming over tonight! And if everything’s not perfect, I will never hear the end of it,” he agonizes, voice fragile and close to breaking. His honey eyes go glassy when the red emotion slowly turns blue. “About how I can’t make it on my own, how I moved out too early— how I never should’ve moved in with you.”

His words sting a little bit, in the most literal sense. The very center of your chest starts to ache, like he’s shoved a red-hot knife into your sternum.

You try to shrug it off as best you can. “Well, who cares what your parents say?”

“I do! I have to, ‘cause I’m the one that’ll have to hear about it every goddamn day!”

His misplaced anger begins to build, like the looming shadow of a boogeyman. The weight of it starts to suffocate you. At a loss of how to make any of it better (because you’ve got a record of doing the exact opposite) you try to bring your high-strung boy down again.

“It’s just a turkey, Steve. We can make another.”

You prepare yourself for an argument, but Steve only huffs — so deep it makes his chest rise and fall. His head tips back as he rubs two wide palms over his face, down to his chin and back up again. He swipes his fingers through the still-drying strands of his unstyled hair and doesn’t say a single word.

His teeth are clenched tight. You can tell by the sudden sharpness of his jaw and the way his temples are slightly shifted. His eyes are still shut as he breathes in deep, rhythmic patterns. You can almost hear him counting to ten inside his head in attempts to calm back down again.

Steve is painfully self-aware of how hotheaded he gets when he’s anxious. Every little thing feels like the end of the world when he’s cranked up to one hundred. Problem is, he only realizes how cruel he’s being after he’s hurt someone with it.

That someone in question is you now. The sweeter-than-sugar you, the brighter-than-sunshine you, the well-meaning-but-sometimes-totally-careless you.

And Steve, on the other hand, is utterly troubled. He’s harsh, and he’s hopeless, and he loves you so much he’s not totally sure what to do with it all. Sometimes it scratches him like barbs. Maybe that’s why he confuses love and anger so often.

He thinks of his parents — how they were supposed to love him, how maybe they do, how they have a terrible way of showing it, and how he isn’t at all deserving of the way they treat him — and something inside him seethes. It burns somewhere deep within his ribcage and squirms like a feral animal trying to break free.

He feels trapped and he turns violent, like some kind of hurt dog. ‘Cause if he can’t be loved, then he might as well be feared. And sometimes he bites you, the warmhearted stranger willing to love something that doesn’t know how to love itself. And maybe that’s why he snaps at you when he’s so high-strung.

You love him the most, out of everybody in the whole entire world, and no one could understand all this quite like you do.

“You’re right,” he sighs when he comes down to earth again, arms falling to his sides when his shoulders are no longer tense.

The shades of red give way to something more golden when he looks at you. It makes his heart twist because you’re still looking at him the same way you were ten minutes ago — like you’re looking at the rest of your life in the flesh.

One more breath, and the worry slips away.

“Yeah, you’re right— it’s just a turkey— everything’s fine.”

You want to comfort him. Your wringing hands ache with the longing to hold him like you were before all this, with his cheek to your chest so your heartbeat can keep him grounded. You’re just not sure if he wants that yet.

So you linger in place and try not to implode with your yearning.

“I can get a storebought one before they come over if you want,” you offer meekly, peering at him beneath your lashes. “I don’t think they’ll know the difference if we just lie and say we made it.”

He laughs again. One snorted breath, but much more genuine this time. A grin blossoms like a pretty flower on his rose-petaled mouth. It’s impossible not to smile back at him.

“Or we can just, like, not say anything, and watch my parents pretend to like it,” he jokes.

“That’s evil,” you say, hiding your giggle behind your palm. “But then we’d probably have to eat it, too— to make it believable and everything, you know? And I don’t think I can put that in my mouth without gagging.” You snort a laugh at yourself, then grow strangely serious as you mumble, “That’s what she said.”

Steve laughs, loud and boyish. It paints the kitchen golden and makes your chest feel all sparkly. “C’mere,” he hums with a grin, throwing his arms out for you.

You gravitate towards him instantly, like he’s the sun and you’ve just suffered a terribly long winter. You hug him tight accordingly — suffocating, warm, and tender. He holds you back the same.

His arms curl around your back, wide palms spreading along the length of it. He noses at your hair and presses a gentle kiss there. “Sorry for yelling,” he apologizes, mostly muffled from where he’s holding you so intently. “You forgot. It’s okay. I overreacted.”

It’s still hard for him to apologize sometimes. Even when he’s in the wrong. Especially when he’s in the wrong. He grew up with parents who fought and then acted like nothing happened the next day. There was never any closure. Just bottled up feelings.

It feels good to be wrong — to acknowledge it and to still be loved after.

“I really was trying to help,” you mutter, burying the words into his chest.

Steve nods against you. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse—”

“You didn’t make it worse, don’t say that,” Steve interjects before the words can properly leave your mouth. He squeezes you tighter, in hopes it’ll make his words stick more. “You know I’d stress myself to death if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah. And if your parents came home to a corpse, that’d be really morbid,” you murmur gently.

Steve chuckles when he pulls away from you. He unwraps his arms from around you, just to hold your face in his hands. His palms are warm and softly calloused against your cheeks. He swipes his thumbs over the warm apple of them.

“It would be,” he concurs with a nod and a big, dumb grin. His honey eyes sparkle as they melt for you. “I’ll tell them that when they come over— that you singlehandedly saved their son. They’ll have to love you, then.”

He says it like it’s a joke, but it isn’t really. It’s true in a lot of ways. Way more than you know.

“Think they’ll still like me even if you don’t say all that?” you wonder meekly and with your nose scruched, peering up at him with a hopeful gaze.

“Oh. Yeah. Totally,” Steve scoffs without thinking twice. He shrugs like it’s obvious with his face twisted like he’s confused why you’d even ask. “They’ll fall in love with you the second they see you.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic,” you mumble, laughing under your breath.

You’re not nearly as confident as he is because you have no idea you’re made of flower petals, sunsets, and winter skies — all things delicate, tender, and impossibly loveable.

“I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to be in love with you,” Steve insists, still cradling your face in his palms. It’s easier than saying that he loves you so much that he’d follow you anywhere — or that the rest of the world could fall apart, and he wouldn’t care as long as you were standing with him.

“I think you’re biased,” you tease with a quiet smile.

“I know from firsthand experience, babe,” he argues with a rosy smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m an expert on the matter, actually.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 9 months

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I Gave You My Heart

14/12: Hand Holding & Dry Humping - Billy Washington Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: grinding, p in v sex, horniness as a result of drinking alcohol

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Christmas was always a difficult time of year for Billy.

To most, it was a happy, cheerful time, when families would gather, stuff themselves with as much meat as they could manage, drink as much wine as they wanted without stumbling into the garden shed (as his dad did the year before, to which his mum still hasn’t let him forget) and pass out on the sofa before the King’s speech could even come on tele.

To Billy, as with most years he gathered at his parent’s house, it was just another opportunity for his parents, sister and extended family to badger him with the usual abundance of questions.

How’s the job hunt going? Not well? Aw, well there’ll be something out there for you. Just have to keep at it.

No girlfriend yet?

You’re still looking for a job?

Lana not here yet? She’s doing well isn’t she?

He felt that if he had to go through yet another year of it, he’d go ballistic.

Aunties. Uncles. Cousins. He hugged them all on arrival, but felt very little.

But this year was different.

There was an element of protection she provided. A buffer, so to speak. And Billy being Billy, didn’t want to lean on her for that buffer, but was relieved all the same when she didn’t mind.

How did she do it?

How did she smile through it? Remain polite, despite the fact that it was socially sapping and emotionally draining to be around this many new people at once, all bombarding her with questions.

She was the shiny new item to a mischief of magpies, and all his aunties were babbling like turkeys at her, taking all the attention away from him. To his relief.

He watched her with a warmth to his face, a can of cheap beer in one hand, leaning against the radiator in the hallway to warm his backside.

She entertained them with brief, vague answers, but still somehow managed to keep that smile to her face he loved so much. Perhaps he was just wavy from the alcohol, he couldn’t tell. But he did realise he was flushing with embarrassment when her eyes clapped on him from across the room, and he realised he’d been caught staring.

His heart rate skyrocketed as she excused herself and crossed the room like she was floating, the Christmas cracker tissue paper crown was still somehow perched on the top of her head, whether she realised it or not.

“What you doing here by yourself, Wash?” she smiled.

He’d almost forgotten to move his lips to reply, his face was so hot.

“Making use of the central heating to warm your arse?” she prodded with a cheeky smile, turning to stand beside him, pressing her own back to the radiator and sighing as the warmth spread through her body from the middle outwards.

“Have my aunties bored you to death?” he asked, smirking beneath the rim of his can as he sipped.

She laughed through her nose, “That obvious?” she smiles, “Nah, it’s alright. Much better company than my house on Christmas Day, anyway. At this point, my dad’d be a snoring mess on the sofa and mum’d be fretting about Boxing Day lunch”.

In his alcohol-addled state, the raising of Billy’s eyebrows was a bit unmatched, alongside the lazy smile on his face, “I can picture that”.

She raised her own eyebrow at the way he seemed to subtly sway, despite being stood.

“What number’s this?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

And she watched with amusement as the cogs inside Billy’s head visibly turned, trying to form a memory of how many cans he’d swiped from his dad’s fridge before now.

“Um…4? I think?”

“You think?”

He pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh out of embarrassment.

The heat once again rose to his chiselled features, something she would never not find endearing about him. Sometimes it was worth saying something risque or embarrassing just to see this beanpole of a man blush.

His baby blue’s glimmered with drunkenness as he looked over at her, for a moment searching her face as if he was ticking off all boxes that were labelled with her features. Her eyes. Her lips. The gentle slant of her cheeks. The shape of her nose. How her dimples sank in when she smiled lovingly at him.

He was sure nobody in his life had ever looked at him the way she did.

It made him feel good and also like he wanted to hide at the same time.

“You wanna get home soon?”

He nodded without even thinking. God, he fucking loved her for that. The way she was able to know when he was socially complete without him having to say it.

Leaving in any British household, especially on Christmas Day, is an event in itself.

It takes twenty minutes minimum, to pack up all the things you have, piling the presents you’ve received into various bags for life, and giving a ceremonial hug and a peck on the cheek to all who are still awake and present. Often people who you’d circle back to once you finally made it to the door, graced with yet another hug goodbye.

It was solemnly enchanting, the clear roads on Christmas Day, the ice that clung to the side of the roads, and the grit that coated the middle. Christmas music blared through her radio, muffled by static, and about the sixtieth time that BBC Radio 1 had played ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’. And they’d both laughed, delirious from over-socialising, when she’d realised only halfway through the drive back home, that she was still wearing the shoddy tissue paper crown.

“Was Santa good to you this year?” she’d asked jokingly, briefly turning her head from the red light.

He huffed a laugh, “He’s about to be when we get home”.

She rolled her eyes, shifting the car into first, but unable to help the smile that rose to her face.

Billy’s flat was donned with the basics of Christmas decorations.

Fairy lights along the headboard of the bed, a tiny plastic tree on the side table, several tea lights along the TV stand and finally, the pièce de résistance, the scented faux pine candle sat in the middle of the coffee table. Lit and extinguished this morning, but still managed to fill the room with a pleasant woody fragrance.

Billy talked big when he was a bit drunk. But she knew him better than that.

And though Billy might have wanted to tear all her clothes off, pull her to the nearest flat surface and let her know all he’d wanted for Christmas, all he was able to do was snuggle in behind her on the sofa, throw one arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head as his brain swam.

It was just noise mostly, something to fill the comfortable silence as the late afternoon became late evening, the tea lights illuminating the front room with a pleasant atmosphere. She was sure he’d fallen asleep, the hand that was over her middle now firmly in hers, his long digits intertwined with her small ones. Not that she minded. She simply held his hand, using her other to scroll through her phone with the volume turned down so he wouldn’t wake up.

She clicked her phone off when she felt his arm tighten around her middle, tugging her back closer to him and turned her head up to smile at him, “Billy”.

His eyes were closed as if half asleep, his dark blonde eyelashes moving to betray the fact that he was indeed awake, but he only hummed, his hips chasing hers to grind against her backside. The alcohol had fuelled his desire, but had hindered his actual ability to act on said desires, and he made a noise of frustration when his body hadn’t reacted the way he wanted.

“...‘m sorry…”, he mumbled quietly, speech slurred endearingly.

“For what?”

“...’ts my little soldier…can’t…”

She had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh, not used to or remembering Billy being this loose-lipped under the influence of alcohol. All the while he was still pressing his soft and clothed length against your backside, willing his ‘little soldier’ to life, to no avail.

It was both endearing and amusing, that even in the state Billy was in he was trying, and god he really was trying, to initiate intimacy, fully knowing that the likelihood was that he wasn’t going to be able to. Much much too drunk to even think straight.

“It’s alright, Billy, just go to sleep, ok?”

He huffed much like a child would when you refused him something.

“...but it’s Christmas…”

“Sex on Christmas Day is no better than sex on any other day. Just get some sleep, okay?”

He sighed, slumping his head onto the cushion in something akin to defeat, fingers still threaded through hers on her stomach. But not a moment later, she heard his steady breaths and threw the blanket over him as well as her and laid her head down as well.

Waves of consciousness kept pulling her to the surface, a pleased sound falling from her lips as she parted them, feeling all warm both against her flesh and tugging in her gut as well.

She could feel Billy’s hot puffs of air against her neck and ear, the hair there reacting to his quickened breaths as they stood on end, her brain failing to realise quickly enough what was going on, and why her boyfriend lay behind her, was breathing so quickly.

That was until she heard him whimper, a stuttered moan following it.

“Mm…Billy?..”

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and instead of the warm ropes of sleep tugging her down it was something else, something hardpressing against her and chasing friction. His grip on her hands was so tight, his knuckles were almost white from the effort of holding back.

By now the candles had all burned out, save one, and the sky outside was pitch black, with the smallest flurry of snow decorating the darkness.

Hours had gone by.

She jumped when she felt his hands, colder than she expected, dip beneath her jumper and shirt, pressing his large palm against the flesh of her stomach, his little finger teasingly sliding beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Sorry - babe, I need you…”

She could feel how impossibly hard he was through his jeans, chasing friction with every cant of his hips, using one hand to unzip them with difficulty as his other held onto her like she might disappear.

Freeing his length from his boxers, Billy almost moaned aloud when he saw that she was pulling her own jeans down as well, having woken more than aroused at the idea he was grinding against her searching for pleasure. So he made use of his hand and turned her face towards him, enveloping her soft, puffy lips with his own in a warm, wet kiss, not pausing for a moment to think about anything else other than having her right now, as he’d dreamt of doing since Christmas morning.

She nearly gasped when he slid his thick manhood into her, sheathing himself inside her in one, smooth confident movement, as if nothing, nothing, was going to stop him from basking in the warmth she offered.

In this position, with her thighs squeezed together, and his hand on her hips, pulling her back to him with each desperate thrust, it felt like so much more. And every blow to the sweet spot that lay deep inside her felt so utterly maddening, that her brain, still rising from sleep, felt like it was being shaken around.

She came with a choked cry, her grip on his wrist where his nimble fingers were applying frustratingly little pressure to her bud as he continued to piston into her. And when she was so close to begging him to stop from overstimulation, Billy leaned back a little, his teeth grazing against her neck and one hand palming her backside to push himself deeper as he too came with a long, broken whine.

His chest moved against her back with his heavy breathing, sucking in air into his lungs after the craze he’d just fallen over.

Billy pressed kisses to her neck and jaw in a sort of admiration, moving slightly with his length still buried inside her, eliciting a whimper from her as well as the friction.

She felt his eyelashes move against her cheek when he opened his eyes, “Did we really just shag with Die Hard on in the background?” he chuckled breathily.

This time, she couldn’t hold back her tired laugh, swatting his arm playfully, “you’re such a dickhead.”

He smiled wearily, turning her face once more to capture her swollen lips in a kiss, more tender this time without the urgency of desire.

“What was that about Christmas Day sex?” he prodded.

She furrowed her brows and double-tapped her phone.

23:49.

Cheeky fucker.

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moondrop-writes · 2 years

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Hiiiii! I hope you’re doing well! If possible could I get an Apollo x wife!reader scenario where like he always promised he’d never cheat and stuff cause he only ever had eyes for her but then she finds out about Will and is really upset until she meets him and thinks he’s super cute (in like a motherly way off. Bonus points if she used to be with Ares before he started dating Aphrodite and so that’s why she was so upset cause she felt like it was Ares all over again even if they’re still good friends)

Sorry if this is too specific or confusing or something 😅

i love TOA Apollo, and while i've never been really sure how to write the POV of a god, i think this is pretty fair considering his in-universe persona written by Rick. thank you for the request and no worries about specifics! also, my apologies if this is super long lmao

You wiped your wet hands onto the rag by the kitchen sink as the dishes you had just washed dripped. Normally, you'd dry them as well, but you were running low on time, and you didn't want to miss a crucial part of the night in order to fix little details like that. Smiling to yourself, you folded the rag and hung it up by the sink again.

The oven timer beeped just in time for you to get your apron on, and you grabbed your mits in order to safely pull the tray out of the oven. You placed it on top of the stove, the scent of the warm turkey filling your nose. Usually, you'd preserve such a thing for a holiday, but today might as well be one.

Tonight, was the night Apollo visited you once more, after several months in his human form trailing after some young girl, he seemed to take a liking to. Now he was immortal again and could see you after all that time apart.

You'd seen him within the first month at some point. You couldn't do anything though, because that wasn't him. It could very well be, but it wasn't. Lester was average, but it wasn't Apollo. You didn't want to sound shallow thinking that, but there was nothing connecting the god of the Sun to some fake New York teen.

And it'd been too long since then. He said it was for your safety, but you knew it was just because he couldn't stand for you to see him like this. You could tell by the way he walked that he was just as uncomfortable with his new body as you were. He looked like a baby deer, stumbling on tiny legs as it struggled to learn how to walk.

That was not your Apollo, your Apollo was graceful with a flashing smile that sent gusts of warmth up your arms. But his looks weren't all that appealed to you so many years ago. He might've been vain, but he was lovely too. He cared for mortals as the great Titan Prometheus had, and everywhere he walked seemed to cheer someone up.

He was rather dependent on his looks, but around you all that seemed to shy away. It was just you, mortal flesh and human blood, and him, golden blonde hair and a blinding smile.

In your head, you tended to akin Apollo to a star. Despite being one of the oldest Olympians, he seemed so much younger. His sister, Artemis seemed so much more serious and mature, and Dionysus had also seemed to understand his duty more seriously. Being the god of the Sun was more habit than it was a job to Apollo.

While the gods floated and stayed still in their palaces, Apollo roamed around. Each day when he rose and ran the sun, he saw places he might've otherwise missed. Everything wondered him, whether it be a small cave in Taiwan or a forgotten shore in Australia.

Stars were small, surrounded by dozens of other stars and radiating their heat and charm. You thought that summarized Apollo pretty well.

The doorbell rang, interrupting your thoughts.

Startling, you jumped up, rushing to untie your apron and hang it up in the hallway. In nothing but a pair of over washed jeans and a loose beige t-shirt, you pulled the door open, and finally felt like you could breathe again for the first time in months.

There Apollo stood, bronze skin and gleaming hair, a suspiciously bright red Camaro sitting in your driveway.

"Y/N," he breathed, voice as soft as a deer's mewl.

"Apollo," you answered, and leaped forward. He caught you easily, as he had always done, and pulled you close. Your fingers clasped behind his neck, grasping onto blonde curls.

His own hands found your hips, fingers slipping into the belt loops of your jeans to tug you forward. His nose was buried in your hair, and he pressed repeated kisses to the crown of your head.

He was dressed in his godly attire, bands of gold, an airy white tunic, and gold sandals. He looked like a supermodel next to you, but he held you as if you were true treasure.

You pulled back for a moment, only to pull his head down so his lips could meet yours, pressed together in a locking kiss.

It could've gone on forever, but mortals needed air, and you pulled away to breathe. With your chest heaving, he smiled at you as if you'd hung the stars. One hand lifted to cup your cheek and cradled your face.

"I love you," he said, voice soft and almost weak sounding.

"I love you too," you said, pressing your cheek to his chest. You felt something break in you when you heard the slow beat of his immortal heart. It was like a dam that finally crashed.

Your eyes filled with months' worth of tears and you hiccupped wetly against his skin. "I-I missed you so-so much..." you sniffed, trying to calm down your rapid breathing, "don't ever do that again!"

He gave a small rueful laugh and wiped at your tears. "I'll try," he said, and that was enough.

The two of you went inside, and he familiarized himself with everything again. You ate dinner, with soft talk of what'd you'd been up to the past few months. He was unusually quiet and kept glancing out the window to the sky as if it were going to disappear.

He followed you back to your bedroom and changed into some clothes that had been sitting in your dresser for months, awaiting him. You were in the bathroom attached to your room, combing your hair as he sits on the bed watching you.

You placed down the comb with a small clattering sound and turned to him. Your palms were flat on the countertop.

"What's up with you? You're...quiet," you ask, biting your lip. He blinks and runs a hand through his hair before standing and striding over to you.

He wraps his arms around you and hides his face in your neck. "Sorry, I... I've got a lot on my mind..." It was weird seeing him like this, so unsure of himself. Even before, when he would melt in your hands like putty and show his true self as a soft sweet husband, he was never uncertain. Not around you, at least.

You take his hands in yours and press a kiss to the inside of his palm. "Then confide in me. I'm here, and I don't plan on leaving."

He looks away and you recognize the expression easily.

Shame.

"Apollo," you say, a bit uneasily.

"Yes?"

"Tell me," You urge. He hides his face in the flesh of your neck again and presses a kiss to your nape.

"I made a promise, a while ago, and I broke it," he admitted, and you scoured your mind for a time where he'd done such a thing.

You held his hand, the new ring gleaming on your finger. Under Apollo's sunlight, it shone like a star in the night sky, but not even it could compare to the light of his smile.

He kissed your forehead, and said, "No demigod kids, I promise. Not even yours."

You laughed and swatted at his arms. "Be serious," you huffed, "and thank you."

"Mhm," he hummed, smiling against your temple.

Instinctively, you pushed him back, second-guessing your strength and gasping when he banged into the doorframe. He winced and held a hand to his shoulder blade.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head. "How old? No--how many? How--how could I have been so stupid?"

"Y/N..." he tried, voice breaking halfway through your name. It didn't matter, you were louder.

"No, answer the question!"

He closed his eyes, face twisted with distain as he cowered. The god, Apollo, cowering to the wrath of mere mortal.

He breathed in to steady himself.

"Five."

Your face contorted into one of anguish, then horror, then anger.

You cared not for the pained expression on his face when you pulled off your wedding band and flung it at him. He caught it and held it to his chest. "For fifteen years I thought you were loyal! But no. Did those years mean nothing to you? Could you have not waited another century for me to pass? God!"

You ran a shaking hand through your hair, and felt disgust rise within you.

"Please," he begged, but you were having none of it.

"Out!" you shrieked, "get out!"

He obliged, leaving you to fall to the floor, sobs falling from your lips.

It went like that for a while. A few weeks, you think. He tried, multiple times, but you didn't want to listen. How could you have thought he loved you? All those years of lies.

You didn't want to think about him. So, you didn't. You blocked all thoughts of Apollo out. That was until you were sorting through your mail and found one from a sender you weren't familiar with.

From, Will Solace, sent by Hermes Shipping & CO. to Y/N L/N

Curiosity taking over, you opened the letter, and began to read.

Dear, Y/N!

Hello, I'm sure my father has given you quite the issue, and I must say your anger is justified. I have not come to defend Apollo's actions but assist yours. I'm Will Solace, a half-blood son of your husband, my dad. He's been whining a lot at camp, but It's easy to tell how much he misses you. The whole time he was mortal he wouldn't stop talking about you. He claims that he's tried to talk to you, but you keep shutting him out, so I decided to take things into my own hands. You have all the right to ignore this, but I have a feeling you won't. As you're well aware, my father has had multiple demigod children since his marriage with you, which is wrong no doubt, all of my siblings agree. But I don't think he's talked to my mother once since my birth, and Austin said he hadn't seen him before camp since he was four, so, I think it's safe to assume he hadn't cared much for our mothers. But he did care for you. I know my dad, and I know how he used to be all those years ago, which kind of concerns me for you, but I'll stay quiet about that. If he stayed with you this long, then he plans to stick it out. I truly believe he cares for you, and if so, I'd like to meet you. If possible, please come to XXX cafe at 1:30 next Friday.

With care, Will Solace.

You didn't realize you were crying till teardrops were dripping off your cheeks.

With a racing heart, you walked over to the calendar. The letter had been later than probably intended, which meant next Friday, was actually tomorrow.

So, it came to the question of whether or not you would go.

You missed Apollo so much. He was right there, and you could hold him and have him as much as you wanted, but you pushed him away. You let your anger blind you, however justified it may be, and ran from the man that loved you most.

Then it was decided. You'd go. You'd meet Will, and you'd force Apollo to apologize.

Now that you were there, waiting outside the cafe anxiously, the plan didn't seem so fool proof. You flattened down the fabric of your summer dress and ran your hands along the strap of your purse, eyes searching for anybody that may resemble Apollo.

Will isn't hard to find, and like his father, the world seems to center itself around him when he's near.

His hair is blonde and curly, just like Apollo's, and falls over his ears and hangs just above his eyes. Piercing blue find yours, and sun-kissed skin shifts to show a blinding smile. You'd expected them to look similar, but not near identical.

He runs over, wearing a pair of shorts and a nice t-shirt, hand raised in a wave. He stops a few feet from you and holds out a hand.

"Will Solace, it's so nice to meet you. Apollo talks a lot about you," he says, eyes bright and cheery. You were sure you would've thought he was annoying if he was anybody else but knowing that this was Apollo's kid (your stepson? No, that was a weird thought) made it sort of endearing.

You found yourself smiling back as you took his hand.

"You mentioned," you say, clasping hands, "I'm Y/N."

"Let's go inside, shall we?"

Turns out, Will is very likeable. Every word is filled with genuine joy, and he listens intently. You can see the resemblance in looks, but he must get this side of himself from his mother. His nose twitches when confused, and his ears go pink when he's embarrassed.

You think it's cute, the way he opens himself up so easily to you. He finds hidden motherly qualities in yourself, that you weren't even sure you had.

That's how you find yourself inviting him to your house, where you fixed him some lemonade and grabbed some cookies from the pantry for the two of you to snack on as you sat on the porch.

Will finished his previous sentence, placing down a half-empty glass of lemonade. His brows are furrowed, and his usual smile is set in a deep frown. You wanted to rid him of it, and ease away any worries, as a mother should.

"Y'know, growing up without Apollo was hard, but I managed. It was my mother that was difficult. She was distant, hardly there. To be fair, she's famous, but it was still hard. She never made cookies--or made me lemonade. I... you're everything I wished for her to be."

When you stayed quiet, staring down at your lap, he stuttered to correct himself. "I'm sorry if that's weird---I, well, --" you tugged him close, cautious of the food.

He was pressed up against your side, and as soon as his skin met yours he melted, and let you hug him close and warm.

"It's not weird."

"Are you sure?" he said, voice quiet, unsure. It was the same tone Apollo had used.

"Certain."

He pressed a bit closer. "I feel like a baby," he laughed, "fifteen-years-old and I'm being held like a toddler."

"It's always good to be held sometimes," you say, rubbing your hand up his arm. He sniffed, and you didn't have to look down to know that he was holding back tears. How had the tone shifted so quickly?

"I'm sorry," he says, voice thick with emotion. He moves to get up, ears tinged pink, "I shouldn't be doing this. You're not even my mother--"

"Stop it. Calm down and relax."

He does, only after you have to forcibly tug him back down. He settles down next to you, and takes deep breaths to push away the tears in his eyes.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there, but your legs are beginning to cramp from being in the same position and Will is letting out soft snores against your collarbone. The sun is sinking into the horizon, and you try not to jump when he speaks.

"You're good with him," Apollo says, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

You frown, "you say that like he's a dog."

He looks away and shrugs, "I'm not good with kids, you know that."

"Neither am I," you huff, and your arms tighten around Will.

"I think Will has a different opinion."

"We all do," you say, and look down as Apollo gets closer. He settles beside you and whispers his next words.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I can do to please you anymore."

You close your eyes and sigh. "Just--stay, okay?"

He nods, "okay."

And he does. Apollo sits there until the sun is gone, his chin on your head, and arms holding both you and Will firmly. You're asleep before you know it, and he's hoisting you both up to bring you inside.

He places Will on the couch with a light blanket, before bringing you to your bedroom. He lays you down, and presses a feather-light kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he whispers, hand holding yours.

Unconsciously, your fingers tighten around his, and he beams.

#apollo #greek mythology #apollo x reader #Apollo x reader pjo #x reader #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #moondrop writes #pjo hoo toa #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #fluff #will solace #motherhood

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hayatmed · 5 months

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esthetismhealth · 1 year

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robo-writing · 10 months

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Celebrating Thanksgiving

Description: You should’ve known that celebrating the holidays with Johnny would lead to this.

Tags: John “Soap” MacTavish/Reader, no use of y/n, AFAB pronouns/genitalia

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Authors note: yeah I wrote this in 45 minutes with no editing this stupid scottish man gives me life-threatening brainworms, sorry

Celebrating the holidays with Johnny is always a spectacle in the best kind of way. You never found yourself to be overly excited when the holidays came around, mostly just treating it like another day, but that all changed when a certain blue-eyed Scotsman came barreling into your life.

Suddenly you found yourself anticipating the days when it’s just you and Johnny enjoying each other’s company.

You could spend the rest of your life in this moment and never grow tired, from putting up early Christmas decorations to cooking dinner, the latter of which you were currently occupied with as Johnny set the table.

“Smells like heaven in there lovie!” He says from down the hall. Like clockwork you can feel him take up space behind you, watching you diligently as you prepare for dinner.

“I’m not letting you have a taste Johnny,” you reply, holding in a laugh when you feel him pout against your cheek. “Wait until I’m done, then you can eat as much as you want.”

You should know by now to be more careful with your words, especially when you know how insatiable Johnny can be. “Now hen, it feels like you aren’t talking about the food.”

“Johnny.”

His hands find their way to your hips, holding you gently as he kisses your neck. “Just saying, the turkey isn’t the only thing that has to get stuffed tonight.”

“Jesus Christ,” you laugh, turning around to witness his shit-eating grin. “I think that’s the worst joke you’ve ever told me.”

“Gimme a couple days, ‘m sure I’ll think of something worse.”

God awful joke aside, you’d be a liar if you said the idea wasn’t intriguing, and the way he’s looking at you is definitely not helping.

“I can see it in your eyes hen, come now,” he kisses at your face, once, twice, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. “You’ve been at the stove all day, let’s take a break—promise I’ll make you feel good.”

That’s not a promise you’ve ever known Johnny to break, so when he drags you down to the nearest couch and sits between your legs, you happily let him.

Legs dangling on his shoulders, licking at his lips as he pulls your pants down and grins wide when he sees you exposed and waiting, not taking a second to hesitate before he’s face first into your pussy. Immediately it’s as if a weight has been taken off your shoulders, the stress of preparing for the holidays melting away and slowly being replaced by the pleasure that is Johnny’s greedy mouth against your sex. He laps at your cunt like it’s his job, moving against you until his face turns red and his chin is soaked in your juices.

“Christ, didn’t even need to prep you huh?” He mutters between kisses. “Like she’s made for me, huh bonnie?”

His eyes flutter shut when you tug his face closer, nose deep as he eats you out. Johnny treats your pussy like it’s royalty, talks you through your orgasm when your legs close tight around his head and goes right back to devouring you the second your legs stop shaking.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya—she’s begging me for it you know, she’s just waiting for me to put my mouth back on ‘er—“

He puts his thumb right on your clit, watches as your pussy twitches with each rub, mesmerized at the view. “See bonnie? She wants me so badly, she’s gaggin’ fer it, needy little cunt she is.”

You’re so dazed that you can barely register his belt being undone to free his aching cock, thrusting against the cushions with barely any care to his own pleasure so long as his mouth is filled with your taste. You nearly cry from how long he keeps you like this, whimpering for a break that he doesn’t give you.

You beg, heels digging into his back as tears build up in your eyes. You can only take so much pleasure before your first reaction is to pull away, an idea Johnny doesn’t entertain before he pulls you back down and holds you firm.

“Oh no hen, don’t run now, not when your pussy’s practically calling my name—she needs me y’know? Don’t try to take her away from me.“ he rambles before diving back in to explore your pussy. The way he talks to you, or your pussy rather, it’s like an addiction he can’t quit.

He spits into your wetness, spreading the mess with his tongue before going back to whispering praise between your legs with a reverence unheard of. “She’s so wet fer me, so fucking delicious—I bet she can take another one, yeah? Yeah, I think she can—“

As he wrings another orgasm from you, you question whether or not the two of you will even make it to the dining table this thanksgiving.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish smut #cod smut #soap x reader #I’m 1000% certain I could actually write this better but do I want to?#no #robo writes #also this is for that thanksgiving challenge thing so YAY

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