#possible pre-lamp

[venture4treasure]

written august 11

saw some stuff on juno and here are some of my initial thoughts (please mind that; i didn't get to play her during her playtest period, i don't really watch overwatch gameplay content, and i tend to hold a negative attitude towards new characters cause i don't want to learn counterplay/new metas);

and obviously all of this is subject to massive change in a couple days when new season drops and hopefully an animated short

lore and character

i will not be writing juno content -- i know spacerocks is everywhere and it's very cute, but she just has so little content right now? and i can't imagine much more lore coming out during her release. she's mei's graduate school friend's daughter. she likes spaghetti westerns.

she also comes across as very very innocent and it kind of makes me uncomfortable. like the naivety + her design give me not great feelings. maybe my feelings on the matter will change when i hear more voice lines at release. she has so little voice lines right now and they all feel the same. it's just her talking about the novelty of being on earth + comparing everything to space and that's it.

whereas you have voice lines like venture and reinhardt on eichenwald where venture talks softer and more seriously/compassionately that really make you like venture as a person. i don't know anything about juno even after listening to her voicelines, there's so little to learn either directly or indirectly in her lines.

i saw a twitter post some time ago about how mauga might be the last character we get with major lore relevance for a long time (baptise's backstory/ex-lover). venture shows up with a new faction. juno shows up with a new faction. (same with illari). not relevant to juno, just wanted to talk about it because i wish there was more characters being released relevant to overwatch or talon or null sector,

venture got lore on release! didn't they dig into anubis -- the thing null sector is looking for?? where is the juno lore, she got teased as a character around the same time as venture, i would expect more lore written around her.

though, her perspective on omincs/null sector could be cool. especially, if she ran into ramattra before overwatch. although, her positive opinion of mei makes me think she's going to be sided with overwatch.

mauga had an awesome animated short -- completely flipped my opinion on him. venture, less-so, but they had arguably more lore in their gameplay trailer than most characters. so juno might get an awesome animated short

gameplay (im just a yapper, and don't actually check numbers too carefully. everything is in perspective of a kiriko one trick, bear with me)

i really don't like that they teased juno as 'space ranger' and then didn't use space ranger as her code name? like, i will be comm-ing her as 'space ranger' for the foreseeable future. i thought juno was her real name and space ranger was her in-game name. like 'venture' and 'sloan'.

also PLEASE no space ranger meta (i don't think she'll be meta without adjustments to other characters; eg. tank nerfs/buffs). im going to be so sad if we got kiriko nerf into a space ranger meta. i know kiriko/suzu isn't healthy for the game, but as a kiriko main who has little stake in the competitive health of the game, i am allowed to be overjoyed at buffs and sad at nerfs haha

not being able to go down with glide boost might be a yikes. widow/hitscan are going to have such a fun time getting her because she is stuck in the air with no vertical adjustment.

pulsar torpedoes seem really good? (surely this ability just gets shortened to "missiles" for comms). that's so much healing 135x(every teammate in los) with no charge up; but there is travel time. it'd negate a lot of damage from zarya ult, sigma ult, orisa ult, etc. like suzu, but more healing and no immorality frames. and on the flipside, sigma ult + pulsar torpedoes just kills most characters max health without healing? then also consider that juno probably bursts the enemies with her primary fire too. still worse than suzu/lamp; ana nade negates it, but it'll be harder to bait out than suzu/nade.

75(missiles) + 50(grav initial burst damage) + 125(most characters have 250 health and sigma ult does 50% on impact) = 250(this will kill).

basically most of the tank ults that cluster/stun characters are going to have great synergy with missiles. like orisa ult can be released earlier with 75 chip on everyone.

she has so little survivability from dive imo. tracer tries to one-clip her and then what (sombra hacks/virus her and she's so dead uh oh)? most of the support roster has ways to get out or abilities that work on themselves to leverage the duel in their favour (suzu, immortality field, moira orb, lifeweaver dash, etc). juno does not have that, double jumping slightly higher in the air doesn't count -- i will be diving her.

gun feels like worse baptise without headshot ability, but she can heal fliers so that's a plus.

ult looks soo good. it's just a better mercy/lifeweaver/(maybe baptise) ult, no?

speed ring will be nice for rein, the healing output will also be nice because lucio doesn't really have that right now. i can see juno replacing lucio for the rein/lucio synergy -- except juno is way easier to kill than lucio.

i won't be playing the week of juno's release. i don't like people griefing in comp with a character they don't know how to play, i'll just wait until the meta has settled and read up about it before returning to the game.

okay maybe a little bit of dps. i really think widowmaker will have a field day with her. i mean??? no vertical adjustment in glide?? easy headshots probably.

end note; ok i was really scared of juno replacing kiriko, but she's okay. i think kiriko beats her at doing almost everything except easier damage from primary fire and pulsar torpedoes damage output to follow up on ults.

[nanaslutt]

It's not a wet dream

cont: fem reader, somnophillia, pre-established consent, oral(m!r), dirty talk, Geto has sensitive balls, teasing, deep throating, overstimulation, cum eating

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You winced when Suguru's door made a loud creek as you pulled it open, slipping inside his room slowly. You turned the doorknob all the way down before pushing it back, closing the door. You were enveloped in darkness once more, save for the small orange lamp in the corner of Suguru's room. He must've been too tired or drunk to turn it off last night.

Suguru was out until almost 4 am celebrating Gojo's birthday with Nanami and a few other friends of theirs. Nanami said he would keep an eye on Geto and make sure he got home and an appropriate time, but when you heard the two men drunkenly stumbling their way through yours and Geto's apartment in the middle of the night, you surmised that Nanami had gotten pressured into drinking more than he said he was going to. 

You were almost impressed. After all, it took a lot to knock Nanami Kento out. You had to be careful making your way through the living room and into Geto's room, trying not to trip on the rug and fall to the ground, afraid of waking Nanami. 

You sighed a breath of relief when you made it to his room without making a sound. You weren't sure about Nanami, but Suguru was a heavy sleeper. He could sleep through the end and rebirth of the world. Which made your little plan perfect. 

It was a little earlier than you normally get up on weekends, but a certain dream about your long-haired boyfriend woke you up with a burning fire between your thighs. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous though. You knew Geto had told you he was okay with this kind of thing, his exact words being, "You can do whatever you want to me pretty girl, I'm okay with anything as long as it's you." but even with that, you had made no attempts to try anything. 

You shook your head remembering his prior words from weeks ago, your face heating up at the thought. Your eyes immediately found his strong body, sprawled out on the bed. Suguru was only clad in his boxers as he lay on his back, one knee bent and leg hiked up, one arm by his side, and the other underneath his head, cradling it. 

His hair was down completely, the dark strands falling gracefully down his shoulders and on the white sheets underneath him. He looked so peaceful, handsome face completely relaxed and tipped to the side, revealing his strong jawline and the perfect strong slope of his pointed nose. 

You swallowed hard, you were starting to see the appeal in this. He was completely at your mercy, and he liked it. You released a shaky breath as you dragged your eyes across his chiseled body, completely bare for you to look at. You couldn't tell if Geto had a boner or not, you could see the outline of his impressive cock from where you stood at the end of his bed, but unless you felt it, you wouldn't know. He always was a shower. 

You bit your lip before crossing your arms over your body and grabbing along the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off of your body. Your tits laid bare into the air of the room, the bottom half of you only clad in a thin pair of black panties, basic, Suguru's favorite.

You carefully placed your hand on the end of his bed and crawled onto the sheets, going as slow as possible to not wake him so soon. If he woke up once you had his cock in your mouth, fine, but you had to have some fun with him first. His legs were spread just enough to give you the perfect spot to lie down between them. Your tummy and chest rested on his soft comforter which had been shoved down the bed, only covering half of his shins and his feet.

The thought of Geto kicking off his sheets in his sleep because of the heat made you smile. His face probably looked so grumpy and uncomfortable. 

You tentatively placed your hands down on his hip bones, rubbing your thumbs in small circles against them. Geto stayed completely still, making you release the breath you didn't even know you were holding. You decided to test your luck further. You extended your arms, rubbing up his naked torso while you rested your head against his thigh, watching your hands move over his porcelain skin.

Your fingers traced the indents of his abs all the way up to the bottom of his paks before you started slowly sliding them back down, this time caressing the side of his body, over his ribs. You noticed his cock jump behind the confines of his boxers as you touched his burning skin, making a mischievous smile grace your features.

You dragged your fingers down and down until you reached his sharp v-line. Adding a little more pressure, you traced the deep indents, resulting in another twitch of his cock. You bit your lip, dropping your eyes down to his crotch which was eye level with you. It was steadily stirring to life as you ran your fingers along the hem of his boxers, teasing him.

Suguru had the sexiest happy trail that started just below his belly button, you couldn't get enough of it. You lightly scratched your nails down the trail of hair, going past the hem of his boxers and over the material, ever so slightly grazing the head of his cock before you dragged them back up, repeating that process a few more times.

Suguru's abs tightened before relaxing, his cock throbbing in tandem. He was starting to feel it. You raised your head off of his thigh and leaned forward, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to the shaft of his dick. He wasn't fully hard, but he was getting there. 

With that, you tucked your fingers underneath the band of his boxers and started sliding the material down far enough to where his cock and balls were out. His cock twitched heavily against his thigh when you exposed it to the air, removing him from his confines. Suguru turned his head to the other side of the room, his eyebrows ruffling almost unnoticeable before his relaxed expression was back on his face.

You kept a watchful gaze on his face as you reached out to grab his twitching cock. It was stirring like it had a mind of its own, eager for relief. You wrapped your hand around the midsection of his half-hard cock and slowly stroked your hand down his shaft before going back up. A bead of pre-cum dripped out from the head, smearing on your hand as you stroked him off, easing the slide.

Suguru's abs tightened repeatedly before relaxing each time you jerked your hand up and down slowly. You paused your movements, grabbing him at his midsection before you released your thumb from him and started rubbing tight circles around his frenulum. Geto's breath hitched, his eyebrows furrowing again made you wonder if he was going to wake up, but he stayed knocked out.

"Good boy." You whispered, sliding your hand up to jerk off his sensitive tip, focusing all of your attention there. A soft grunt left your boyfriend's throat, the corner of his lip twitching with it. You couldn't help but cross your legs over one another, bringing some relief to the burning heat between your thighs. 

Geto was stirring more now, legs and abs flexing, more soft, barely there sounds leaving his throat. He wasn't going to stay asleep for much longer. Geto was now fully hard, his thick cock straining strongly agaisnt your hand as you rubbed his soft tip, making more pre-cum spill from the tip. Squelching noises rang in your ears, making your heartbeat speed up. The sound was so lewd. 

Sliding your hand down to the base of his cock, you grabbed his hip with your free hand and angled his cock slightly down to your mouth. You stuck out your tongue and let your hot breath tease his cock, making it twitch harshly before you gave it a few soft taps against your tongue, the small taste of it alone making your tastebuds erupt with the salty-sweet flavor of his cum.

Wasting no more time, you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his cock. Geto's body jerked violently at the feeling of you instantly taking as much of him into your throat as you could. You bobbed your head up and down on him, using the grip you had around the base of his cock to smear your saliva onto the rest of him.

Suguru groaned when his tip hit the back of your throat, the feeling making your eyes water as you fought back a cough. You pulled off of him completely, your hand jerking him off quickly and smoothly with the added wetness as you dropped your head down to his balls. You took one of his balls into your mouth, rolling your tongue around it softly the way he always begs you to when you suck him off.

You should've guessed this would be what woke him up. Geto's bent leg straightened out as he stirred from his sleep, the dark-haired man almost immediately feeling the pounding in his head from his awful hangover. But there was something else along with that sensation, something that overwhelmed it in a positive, pleasureful way.

Geto rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand while the other went down to grab his cock, or at least try. He was met with the feel of hair against his hand, his fingers splaying out along the top of your head. "Oh fuuuuuck, baby?" Geto groaned, his hips thrusting shallowly into the air, fucking his dick into your hand. Geto dropped his head down to look at the scene that was unfolding below him.

There was still sleep flooding his eyes, making his vision slightly blurred but he couldn't mistake the sight of your gorgeous face, sucking on his balls while you jerked him off. "Oh baby, oh fuckk..." Geto groaned, his jaw falling open at the sight before he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

You unlatched your lips from around his sack with a wet popping sound, turning your head right away to face him with a dopey, cock drunk smile. "Good morning Sugu, how are you feeling?" You asked, not giving him a second to answer before you replaced your hand with your mouth. You took his cock into your throat with ease, your hand that was jerking him off splaying out on his pelvis around the base of his cock as you sucked him off with no hands.

"Holy fuck, oh fuck, so tighttt" Suguru groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair at the feeling of your hot mouth around him. You kept your eyes on him as you bobbed your head up and down, humming around him. The vibrations were getting sent straight to his balls, already readying to spill his seed. "Good now baby, s-so good, ohmygod so good." Suguru groaned, trying to answer your question but getting swept away by the pleasure.

"I fucking love you so much, holy shit." The man groaned in his deep, sleepy voice. You had to fight back a smile, not wanting him to feel any teeth as you sucked him off. "Keep going, s-suck my balls again baby, please." He begged. His voice was so much deeper than usual, it was so raspy and needy, it made you grind down into the bed, rubbing your clit against the inside of your thighs pressed so tightly together.

You released his cock from your mouth with a cute "ahhh-" sound before you were leaning down again to suck his balls into your mouth. Geto's eyes rolled back in his head as he released a long groan, his hand pressing you harder against them. He caught you off guard when he wrapped his hand around yours that was jerking him off, speeding up your pace.

His hand was shaky and jerky, and it had no rhythm, Suguru just needed to feel like he was doing something because he was feeling so much. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, and so early in the morning after drinking so much the night before- you couldn't blame him for being so overstimulated and disoriented.

"Yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah baby, harder, suck 'em harder-" Geto slurred through his teeth, lips pursing around them. His hand stiffened over your own as his body went rigid, almost on the brink of his orgasm. You moaned around him, unable to keep your own pleasured noises down from how good making him feel good felt. Geto's thighs pressed together around your body, the muscles under the skin starting to tremble as his nails scratched against your scalp.

His head thrashed back and forth against the bed, his eyes squeezed tightly together, eyebrows knit with them. His back started arching ever so slightly with his impending orgasm, his groans turning into short gasps as his mouth dropped open and closed like a fish out of water.

"Don't stop pretty don't fucking stop, 'm gunna cum, c-cumming cumming!" Geto whimpered out his words, the last word being your name coming through his lips cracked and ruined before you felt the first hot rope of his cum land on the side of your face.

You moaned around him, sucking harder and squeezing his cock tightly as you worked him through his orgasm. Geto groaned as he released his seed, his hand stilling over yours which kept jerking him off, milking all the cum out of his cock. "T-thank you, baby, ohhhh fuck- thank you-" Geto groaned through his high. His balls clenched and throbbed in your mouth as he released his seed, even more so as you ran your tongue over them, encouraging him.

Geto's, and your own hand was covered in his cum, as the last few spurts of his seed had been weaker, merely dribbling out over your fingers from his tip. Once Geto was throughout done cumming, you detached from around his balls, letting them rest empty and wet against his thighs. Geto was still fighting to catch his breath, his hand on the back of your head falling to the nape of your neck as he no longer had any strength left in his body to hold you tight.

Releasing his cock, his hand falling off of yours, you wiped his cum on the bedsheets next to him. Crawling up his body, you straddled his hips, your panties undoubtedly getting soaked with his leftover cum as his softening cock pressed agaisnt your cunt. Suguru's unfocused eyes found yours, his jaw open and a pretty deep blush spread across his cheeks.

Smiling, you swiped your fingers across the cum on your face, pulling them away to look at his mess. Suguru watched you carefully, knowing exactly what you were planning to do even despite his fucked out state. You brought your fingers to his mouth, to which he eagerly accepted. He took your cum coated fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking off his own seed and swallowing greedily before he released them, letting you pull them back.

"How did that taste Sugu?" You asked teasingly, holding his chiseled cheeks with both of your hands, wiping the long stray hairs off of his face that were stuck there by his sweat. "Fucking delicious." God he was so shameless, it made your cunt throb with need. "How did I end up with such a dirty man?" You asked, fighting back a laugh as you shook his limp head back and forth, a dopey smile on his lips.

"You love how nasty I am, get's 'ur pussy all wet," Suguru said, his words slurred together and ridden with sleep. "Damn right it does," you answered, leaning in to kiss him softly against his lips before you pulled away, sitting up on him.

You placed your hands on his chest, letting your cunt rest firmer against his spent cock, an action that made him groan deep in his throat. "You gonna help me out too? Gonna let me sit on your face for waking you up so nice?" You whispered, teasing the skin of his pecs with your nails. 

Suguru licked his lips and tipped his head to the side, his hands finding purchase on your thighs before he gave them a squeeze, his eyes squinting as he smiled. "Of course princess, come up here 'n give me a taste." 

[lodgersims]

As a Sims 2 player one of the most eerie things about playing the original game isn't necessarily the creepy/more liminal aesthetic or the repetitively endless gameplay, but the fact that almost all the pre-made Sims from the original game are inexorably doomed by the narrative.

There's something odd about Pleasantview specifically, where the majority of the returning Sim families live (save for Tara Kat, who seems... relatively fine). Like, the concept of the game is that twenty-five years have passed, and all of the returning characters are pre-baked into character arcs that communicate an unavoidable truth: You, the player, failed.

Bella Goth will disappear. Her brother (though in the original Sims we aren't aware that Michael Bachelor is her brother) will die, possibly murdered. Mortimer will be lost and alone. Cassandra will be stuck in an unloving engagement. The Newbie's daughter will be impoverished, a single mother whose husband died young, with two boys and another on the way. Daniel Pleasant will grow up to be a cheater. Jennifer Pleasant will never be an athlete like she wanted (her brother will). And though poor Johnny Burb never mentions Tucker anymore, you know that old dog died years ago. The Roomies, the Mashugas, the Hicks, the Charmings - all leave town... or worse, die out.

I think about Jeff Pleasant's bio in the first game: "Jeff and his family are new to the neighborhood. Can you help Jeff provide for his family and fulfill his lifelong goal of being the first man to walk on Mars?" And how it contrasts to Daniel's in the second: "Since his father Jeff died without achieving his dream of going to Mars, Daniel has felt an overwhelming guilt."

And sure, you can save the families of Pleasantview. You can choose for Mary-Sue to not go to work that day, or maybe Daniel never pursues Kaylynn Langerak again. You can give Cassandra a happy marriage, tame Don Lothario's womanizer ways. You can financially save Brandi Broke. You can get John Burb another dog. You can get Jennifer the career she always wanted. You can defy the scripted in-game prompts and say "No. I don't want to play like this." You can break the cycle, every time you play.

And yet, at the end of the day, no matter what you do... uninstalling the game and reinstalling it, maybe just deleting that Neighborhood folder, they are reset back to exactly where they were again. They're doomed to repeat it forever.

The game makes it clear that there are some things you aren't meant to change. A genie lamp or a Resurrect-O-Nomitron can bring back sims like Michael Bachelor, but you will pay for it in your neighborhood deteriorating to corruption. And no matter what you do, no force in the universe can bring Bella Goth back. The one in Strangetown isn't even really her, after all. And maybe she isn't. They say they deleted her in development, replaced her with a clone. Maybe that's what Bella Goth in Strangetown is. A clone. Maybe we were wrong, after all. Maybe she was never abducted by aliens. Maybe Don Lothario killed her. Maybe Dina Caliente killed her. Maybe Mortimer did. But you can't bring her back, no matter what you do. Recreate the original Bella, pixel by pixel, extract her data, make your zombie Bella. Build your own monster. Create a sim. But she will never recognize her family. Never see them as her own.

And she was never meant to.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Overanalyzing the Yellowjackets’ pre-crash bedrooms✨

*Unfortunately, we don’t have pre-crash rooms for Tai, Van, or Travis yet (here’s to hoping for more pre-crash scenes in the future that might show them!)

Jackie

Jackie’s room is drenched in pastel tones, with a soft pink carpet, floral bedding, and ruffled curtains, all of which emphasize a very traditional, almost idealized version of femininity. The room feels a bit too neat, delicate, and sterile, reflecting Jackie’s perfectionism and need for control. The wicker furniture, lacy florals, and lamp shades have a vintage/outdated feel, suggesting a conventional upper-class upbringing that likely came with traditional gender roles, values, and high expectations. Her room feels a bit like a dollhouse; perfect, coordinated, lacking authenticity. When Shauna goes to visit Jackie’s house in the adult timeline, Jackie’s room is frozen in time, which represents Jackie as an ever-present force in all of the survivors’ lives, even after her death.

Natalie

Nat’s room is messy and dark. The unmade bed, general clutter, peeling paint, and worn secondhand furniture suggest instability and neglect, while the band posters show her defiance and need for identity outside of her environment. She has a bunch of riot grrrl posters, reflecting her strong identification with feminism, self-empowerment, and resistance to conformity. She also has a massive Debby Harry poster, who we can assume Nat idolizes and who likely serves as the inspiration for Nat’s platinum blond dye job. The most heartbreaking detail is the soccer medals and trophies on display throughout her room, a sign of Nat attempting to create the praise and sense of pride she never receives from her parents.

Misty

Misty’s preteen bedroom is bright, girlish, and overly cheerful, filled with yellow stripes and florals. Her room feels carefully curated. The teen magazines, nail polish collection, red lip phone, and the abundance of posters of male celebrities suggest how Misty clings to an idealized, performative version of teenage girlhood. The room reflects her desperate desire to belong and be liked, even if she has to fake it. The telescope by the window hints at her voyeuristic tendencies and need to watch others from a distance, craving connection, but never quite part of it.

Lottie

Lottie’s room has a curated, elegant, almost ethereal feel. It’s bathed in natural light and decorated with delicate, expensive-looking furniture, signaling wealth and privilege. Soft whites, and pastel blues and pinks suggest innocence and artificial perfection, similar to Jackie. The room is tidy and controlled (perhaps to a fault), which reflects Lottie’s attempts at maintaining mental order, projecting an image of calm in contrast to inner chaos. It’s important to note that this is Lottie’s father’s house, a man who exerted control over Lottie for her entire life. Therefore, her room in his penthouse is accordingly orderly and composed.

The only shred of identity in Lottie’s room is the picture frames of her teammates next to her bed. These photos remain on her nightstand for over 20 years, placed with intention, like sacred objects in a shrine. They show Lottie’s reverence for a time in which she felt a sense of belonging, connection, and authenticity as a true version of herself out in the wilderness with her team.

Shauna

Shauna’s room appears to be in the attic of the house, which could hint at a strained relationship with her family and a general sense of isolation/separation. Attics are often symbolic of hidden or repressed parts of the self, and Shauna’s choice (or necessity) to live there implies she may feel cut off from others, whether by choice or circumstance. The room has a moodiness to it, with warm dim lighting and music posters (and the obvious “Fuck you” lamp thing, love that by the way). This is the refuge for someone introspective, possibly burdened, and in search of meaning. The abundance of band posters (Kurt Cobain!) and CDs point to a deep emotional life and a connection to alternative or subversive culture. The contrasting visible trophies and books suggest she’s a high achiever battling external expectations and internal turmoil/seeking identity.

—

Notably, whenever a YJ returns to one of these bedrooms in the adult timeline, the room is always perfectly preserved and unchanged even after all these years (as seen when Natalie visits her mom's trailer to retrieve Kevyn's mixtape from her old room, when Shauna visits Jackie's parents and goes up to see Jackie's room, and when Shauna goes to Lottie's father's penthouse and enters her bedroom). These preserved spaces are a visual metaphor for the arrested development they all share; they're adults on the outside, but emotionally suspended in the trauma of their past. Their rooms remain exactly the same as they were on the day they left for Nationals, representing how none of them ever truly came back from the wilderness.

[halfpsychic]

Dr. Robby x gn!reader Headcanons

Random thoughts I’ve been having about Robby. No warnings. SFW.

* We all know he’s a real yearner (for Collins in canon). He’s a REAL yearner. Will think about that one (1) moment you had alone for weeks on end. Doesn’t want to complicate things at work so he takes forever to make his feelings known. He lives on scraps for months but he’s good at rationing the memories of those quiet moments with you. When thinking about a subtle touch from weeks ago gets old, you’ll smile at him by his locker when you’re getting ready to leave and that is enough for the next few weeks.

* Subtly tries to get your attention. Asks how your days off were, wanting to know if you hung out with any friends, not so subtly asking if you’re single or going on any dates. Notices when you come in late with frazzled eyes, appears with a cup of coffee or a granola bar in hand for you. He’s physical with his coworkers (the way he manhandles Whitaker…), his hand on your shoulder in a gesture of encouragement or guiding your hands with his through a procedure.

* Likes old movies. Meaning anything before (but not limited to) 1980. Cassavetes, Hitchcock, Kubrick (Dr Stangelove), Malick (Days of Heaven and Badlands), Bogdanovich (The Last Picture Show, Paper Moon, Targets), Sidney Lumet, Michael Cimino (The Deer Hunter, Heaven’s Gate, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot), some James Bond movies. Never passes on a Western. Will fall asleep in front of the TV and you have to shake him awake so he can go to bed, which he’ll often protest, claiming he was just resting his eyes. Not entirely opposed to international film (enjoys the occasional Tarkovsky, and it's not pre-80s but you can't tell me Robby doesn't love Wong Kar-wai and In The Mood For Love) but most nights he needs something he can understand with his eyes closed.

* He doesn’t seem like a horror lover but him taking the measles kid’s dad into the Pittfest makeshift morgue makes me think he’d enjoy something like psychological thrillers? Thrillers in general? Funny Games, some David Lynch, The Fugitive, No Country For Old Men, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974). LOVES Heat (1995).

* Reads A Lot. Taking inspiration from Noah Wyle’s various Instagram selfies with books. Will go to tiny bookstores that don’t have any method to their organization, just stacks and stacks of dusty books, and always comes out with an armful. God forbid either of you have to leave the city without the other but Robby will send you selfies with the books he reads. (One time you respond with “that hung smile” and he teases you about it for weeks, after he gets over the initial embarrassment of it.)

* Reads before bed and usually turns his light off after you turn over to close your eyes. When you do roll over, he takes it as his cue to finish up whatever chapter he’s on. He folds up his glasses, the sound of them hitting his nightstand is always a joy to hear because it means he’s going to click off his lamp and wrap his arm around your waist.

* Has a record collection. It’s much smaller than his book collection but still takes up quite a bit of shelf space. Going off of the 1 song he listens to in the show, he gravitates towards r&b, soul, jazz, some blues, some country (Johnny Cash, Kenny Rogers, Townes Van Zandt, etc).

* I love this man but I don’t think he can grill. Burns some hamburgers once and never wheels out the barbecue again.

* At one point he definitely gets a recliner and it becomes his spot. You hate it because you can’t sit with him but that doesn’t stop him from pulling you onto his lap.

* He gets so possessive. Truly cannot stomach the idea of anyone else wanting you, and it’s worse when you’re having an argument and all he can think about is the possibility of you leaving him. If he even thinks anyone else is looking at you he’ll snake an arm around your waist or lean down for a quick kiss. Loves hand holding because it always fends off wandering eyes.

* Before Covid, he’d play poker with Abbot and a few other friends. They were all pretty busy so poker night was limited to once a month at most. Abbot is really good at bluffing and Robby tanks every game because his face turns red when he’s excited or upset with his hand.

* Robby teaches you how to play poker. And various other card games. He'll sit with you at the kitchen table and teach you the rules and the hands. Plays with you to teach you but wins every round. "I didn't say I'd go easy on you."

* When he has a bad day, he gets quiet. He'll lay with his head in your lap just to be close to you. It can be hard to be with an emotionally constipated man at first. He doesn't let you in, he subconsciously self-sabotages his relationships with his lack of communication. His silence has brought many challenges to the relationship. After a while, after the honeymoon phase and many nights going to bed angry, it gets easier. Robby still doesn't like to talk about what's bothering him but he seeks you out for comfort. Maybe he'll talk about the last book he read and how he thinks you'll like it or a record he's been looking for but can't find.

* Has a pair of slippers he wears around the house. It’s been years and they’re starting to fall apart but he refuses to buy a new pair yet. If you buy him a new pair he won’t wear them.

* Eventually takes a lot of candid pictures of you on his phone. He had a film camera he used quite a bit like 15-20 years ago but slowly stopped using it. So he has the photography skills (somewhat) but it takes him a while to get the courage to sneak pictures of you.

* You find a collection of his old photographs and it genuinely shocks you. Since when was he a photographer??? He’d never mentioned it before. He has boxes of photos from his residency (hardly any feature him, though) and lots of Pittsburgh when he first moved there. You beg him to start taking pictures with his film camera again. Another box is filled with photos of you. He likes to document memories this way because it gives him a physical reminder of it happening. Those dates weren’t just a dream. They’re real. He doesn’t spend a lot of time taking photos, though. He’ll snap one or two when the moment is right and not bring it up again. He likes to live in the moment with a little souvenir of it.

* Keeps a little photo of you in his wallet. No matter how long you’ve been dating, catching a glimpse of it when he opens his wallet for his debit card makes his heart stutter.

masterlist ko-fi

[ghoulphile]

no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.8 k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand ➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry) ➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️ masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.

In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.

And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.

No one lives in the vaults - not truly.

Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

Not anymore.

Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.

To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers. 

Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).

Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.

Ghouls; who knew, huh?

Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.

And kind of frightening.

But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded.  His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).

You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone. 

He was alone - had been for a very long time.

He was very old - one of the last of his kind.

And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.

“The fuck you doin’?”

Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.

And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.

“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”

The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”

You huff, your knees starting to ache.

Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, the atmosphere weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.

“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”

Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.

While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.

The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.

The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.

A true ‘surfie’ now.

“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”

You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.

Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.

The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.

You could let the waist out some…

What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.

“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”

Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.

After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.

The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.

Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.

Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.

It’s a miracle you don’t scream.

Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.

You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?

Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.

Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.

Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.

No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.

And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.

Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.

But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.

You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.

“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”

Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”

The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”

“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”

You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.

Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”

“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”

“I just - you don’t understand…”

He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.

He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.

“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”

Not an offer - not really.

More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.

If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.

Quid pro quo.

And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.

Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.

“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”

A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”

Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.

Shit.

Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.

Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.

Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.

His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky smack. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest set a tits in the wasteland.”

“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”

While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.

He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.

“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.

A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.

At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.

It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.

You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”

His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”

The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.

“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”

“I-”

Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.

You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.

You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.

“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’

Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.

His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”

“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”

He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.

So close you can taste it.

Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.

Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.

You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”

Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.

Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.

Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”

“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”

[arbitrarykiwi]

*⁀➷ And They Were Roommates!!

Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

my head is plagued with soft namgyu so here’s this

Warnings: sfw , weed usage , bathing together , even though this is sfw this blog is 18+

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You two were just roommates that’s it.

Split the rent, split utilities- it was simply an arrangement that you and Nam-Gyu agreed upon.

You two are just roommates when you pass by each other between the nuances of each of your day to day lives. Maybe a ‘hey’ here and there as one of you walks into your room while the other leaves for work.

You two are just roommates when you both find yourselves sharing a blunt late at night watching some fuck ass cartoon and talking about life as if you two were childhood friends.

You two are just roommates when you both begin to cook a bit extra during dinner. Creating a leftover box with a handwritten note of ‘free to eat’. Knowing only one of you two would eat it. Only you two lived there!!

You two were just roommates when Nam-Gyu would text you to see when you’d be arriving home from work late at night. Making sure that even though your day was ass, that you were okay.

‘U coming home soon? Just made it back from work’

‘Yeah…boss is up my ass have to stay a bit late. :(‘

‘U eat?’

‘Yep, I took the leftovers you put in the fridge if that’s okay…there was a note saying it was free to take so I just figured’

‘Good. U need to start eating better anyways. U can’t not eat at work for 8 hrs straight, stupid.’

You don’t even have time to type your reply before he’s texting again.

‘Left deadbolt undone so it’s just the main lock. Getting in bath. I had a fucked up day 2 omfg’

Nam-Gyu does get in the bath, pre-rolled blunt sat at the edge of the bath waiting to be lit- it’s one of his favorite ways to relax after a shitty day. The big lights are off, the only source of light in the bathroom was the little salt rock lamp that you had put on the counter when you moved in here.

Nam-Gyu remembers at first he thought it was dumb- who fucking spends money on a hunk of salt. But now as he strips down and steps into the tub, the low orange light casting a soft glow around him that physically helps to ease his straining eyes- he guesses it isn’t that bad.

When he strips down, stepping into the steaming water, he’s letting out a low groan, sinking down further into the tub until he’s full seated. Leaning back, he cranes his neck from side to side, trying to ease the tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

It’s a routine! After a rough work day, he comes home, rolls a blunt, runs a hot bath, and most importantly…

He leaves bathroom door wide open waiting for you to join him.

And like it’s rehearsed (it is, you two have done this for over 4 months at this point) you soon file into the steamy bathroom, strip completely naked and step into the tub with him. Not even a word is exchanged. Nam-Gyu just hits the blunt, adding to the already steamy bathroom, and waits for you to join him.

He does look at your naked body a little too hard when you step into the bath with him. And he absolutely has one of his arms slung over your shoulder- a hand on one of your tits when you settle into the space between his legs and rest your back against his chest.

But is far from sexual. It’s some deep admiration and an innate urge to feel your softness and warmth against every part of him possible.

You can feel every part of him against you. But, again, it’s not sexual, it’s so deeply intimate that it instantly relaxes you- you’re sinking further back into him, further under the hot water. The tension in your muscles melts away the longer you’re in this position, making you feel like you’re weighed down into the bath. It’s so calming, so safe- you would never leave if you had the option.

But you are just roommates!!!

You lean your head back against his shoulder and instantly he’s pressing his nose to your hair, inhaling the scent of you, tired eyes fluttering shut. Nam-Gyu even pulls you closer, tightening his grip around you and nuzzling his cheek against your head.

“Rough day?” You ask, voice hoarse and exhausted from the day of work.

“Mhm..” he nods against you, humming his response into your ear. “I’m gonna fuckin’ quit.” He grumbles, holding the blunt out in front of you.

You laugh softly, “No ya not…” You respond, taking the blunt from his hand and taking your own hit. “You like it when it’s not the most shitty lineup on the schedule.”

He can’t help but laugh along with you, the fact you know exactly why he’s pissed off from work today makes his body warmer than it already is- you remembered the exact coworkers he complained about and how those coworkers were the ones he had to work with tonight.

He hadn’t even told you that was why he was pissed- you just knew. You could tell the type of anger and frustration it was.

Hooking his chin over your shoulder, skin damp with the water from the bath, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek. It’s one of his favorite spots to kiss- anytime he did it he got to feel the way you smiled.

As soon as his lips would press against your skin, he could feel your muscles pull taught and your skin wrinkle with pure bliss, a wide smile stretching across your face. To know that he was the one making you smile, fuck, that was enough to make him dizzy let alone getting to feel your smile under his lips.

“Tell me ‘bout your day..”

When he speaks, his lips tickle your skin. You turn your head slightly to try and look at him. You exhale another hit and giggle, your free hand coming to cradle his head and card through the damp strands of black hair.

He lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a sigh- some blissed out noise that only serves to emphasize how much you truly calm him.

“It was shit as usual, I don’t want to bore you with my work day-“

“Please.”

There was something about the way he said it, somewhat of a creaky whisper as his arms wrapped around your waist, fixing you completely to him that makes your heart jump. How could you deny him when he’s asked so nicely?!

Nam-Gyu’s long since forgotten about the blunt. He doesn’t even want to smoke anymore. He just wanted to be near you, to hold you, to hear your voice.

It was something that would not be spoken about, he could never admit to you that he desperately craves you in some deeply personal and intimate way… at least now he begins to realize maybe you two weren’t just roommates.

But that’s a discussion for another time, right now he just needed to hear you ramble about your day and have you pressed against him.

This is all he needed for now.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Haiii guys!! Sorry for my small absence! I’ve been having a fucking ROUGH work week- like I’m talking bent me over, fucked me raw rough. And then I got sick 🫩 🥀

I have a lot of things in the works but the longer fics/ requests are taking so long that I wanna give some more head cannons and drabbles while I work to get those out <3

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee

[theogonize]

i cant stop thinking about sitting on wilson's lap... still clothed and grinding against his thigh so desperately. so wet he can feel the warmth and dampness through the fabric and it drives him crazy. he's trying so hard to focus on the task at hand, the paperwork and charting occupying him, reviewing files, but he cant resist. one hand comes down to grip your hip, pushing me further into his strong but soft muscle for the perfect amount of friction that it makes your clit throb with sensitivity. the other sneaks beneath your shirt and splays out against your torso before cupping your breasts. he lets you go at it for awhile and is grinning beneath you like the smug asshole he is, proud that he has such a desperate and needy slut like you always ready for him. just as youre about to reach your high, he'd shift you back to sit on his cock without even taking off his slacks all the way - just shifting them along with his boxers so that his cock can spring free. when you sink down the length of him you both moan in satisfaction - it was like you were made for one another. as he begins to fuck up into you, his fingers find your clit and rub the most perfect figure eights to maintain your desperate need for friction. he'll tell you how good you feel but how much of a bad girl you are for interrupting his work just to get off. but he still cant deny his desire to fill you, cock twitching as he cums in you. your walls clench around him and youre cumming too...

mmm i just to take that perfect lap... followed by another seat on his pretty little face where he laps up my arousal like the pitiful loser he is... pls pls pls

-❤️‍🔥

pre dinner ask because i'm giddy at the thought of this

you're sitting on his lap, begging and pleading for some attention. he assures you it's just five more minutes, another email or two, just one more file. but it's been five minutes for the past twenty, and you swear you had more patience back then than you do now. and there's no reason why you should be wetter. but there's something about him, the lamp light on his face, screwed in concentration. the way his forearms flex, the way his fingers move so fast when he types. and he's ignoring you, best as he can, but still. you're pouting, whining, complaining. he shushes you but your eyes still say james, look how wet i am for you. and he'd be a fool to deny his needy, cock hungry girlfriend what she wants when she comes to readily to get fucked over his desk. but there's that perverse part of him that's really enjoying you struggle to get anything out of riding the rigid muscles on his thigh. his erection is just unconcealable. you're growing needier by the minute, just the way he likes you. you're dampening his office pants, soiling them, but he couldn't care less.

and wilson doesn't touch you. not once. no lovey dovey kisses and caresses. suddenly he's so focused on what he's doing. that is, until you huff and try to get off him. not like he'd let you touch yourself on his lap. fie fie! you try to escape his orbit but his firm arms cage you. he gives you a disapproving look. one hand grabs your waist, manhandling you into position. he pushes you onto his lap again, this time rubbing your sopping pussy with his knee, whispering how he wont be long, and patience is a virtue. but you dont want to be virtuous, not when he's kissing your neck oh so softly, rubbing beneath your shirt. god, you want to be fucked as nastily, as roughly as possible. you're mewling at every touch. he knows just how to get to you.

but he isn't as patient as he'd like to preach. not when his fingers brush past your panties and you're soaked. he pries your panties aside, shoving two fingers in with ease. you're unbelievable, really, with the way you clench around his digits instantly. he's almost laughing at how much a needy slut you are. you're basically doing the work for him, moving yourself to fuck his fingers. he can see your nipples, hard and inviting, under your shirt. he wishes he wasn't so deep into this game. he isn't just punishing you, he's punishing himself too. seeing how long he can retain even an atom's worth of self control when you beg for him.

it's when you say you're close that he finally, dear lord, needs to shove his dick inside you. why should you have all the fun? for being a needy slut? for distracting him? for having no self respect? does he really make you that horny? well, the question answers itself. you're basically wagging your tail when you hear him unbuckle, then unzip behind you. you grind your ass, trying to cop a feel. but you sly fox, he gives a small, but sharp smack to your ass that pushes you further onto his fingers. you're drooling at the idea of sinking down on him, the fullness you'll feel, how he'd empty inside of you. he pulls his fingers out of you. he doesnt need any more fucking foreplay. he slaps the underside of your thighs as you buck up your hips, waiting for him to align himself. you can feel his tip at your entrance, a go ahead from him. you slam down on his cock, insatiable. he's leaking precum. the wetness of it all, the smell of sex in the air, mixed with the smell of his books and journals. he doesn't have the patience or the decency to last very long after the mutual torture. he's nibbling on your back and collarbone, groping every inch of your flesh. he's finally, finally lost control. it isnt long before you cum, setting off his orgasm too. you both let out a scream, or a moan. it's undistinguishable. it's pathetic how little it takes to break him.

[carmenberzattosgf]

My brain is rotting with the concept of Carmy sending you a video of him jerking off ( @wtfsteveharrington is to blame for this)

Currently, Carmen is in New York for a chefs conference. He can’t get you off his mind, and he’s missing your warm body in bed next to him. It doesn’t help that he just woke up at 2am with a massive hard-on.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles to himself, reaching for the switch to the lamp on the bedside table. He grabs his phone next. With shaky hands, he opens the camera app on his phone, switching to video mode. He clicks the start button.

Carmy’s lower half is still underneath the blanket as the video begins. He’s breathing heavy as he trails his right hand from the top of his sternum to the waist band of his underwear. He kicks the blankets off, exposing the growing bulge in his briefs.

Carmy’s not going to let himself get camera shy now, so he acts like he’s talking to you. “W-woke up like this—“ he breaths. His keeps his movements slow, letting his palm drift down to his covered dick. He applies gentle pressure, which makes his hips twitch.

“I wish you could have come here with me. Know you’d take care of this.” He grips himself harder, forcing a choked groan to leave his lips. Carmy can’t keep this up; he needs to get a hand on his throbbing cock. His thumb hooks into the waistband of his underwear and pulls them down. The camera angle shakes while he shoves them down his hips.

When the video steadies and focuses, it’s on his exposed cock. Carmy breaths deeply as his cock twitches, precum oozing from his tip. “Shit—I’m already leaking. See what you do to me, sweetheart? Just thinking about you gets me hard like a fucking teenager.”

Carmy’s hand disappears from the frame for a moment, but it’s obvious from the sound of spitting what he’s doing. Once his hand enters the frame again, now covered in saliva, he wastes no time and grabs his cock.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t need the extra lubrication with how much he’s dripping, but Carmy wants to replicate the feeling of your soaked cunt as best as he can with his hand. “W-wish I was with you. Know you’d be so fucking wet and warm around me.”

Carmy starts with a slow and calculated pace. His palm grips his dick as tight as possible without it being unpleasurable. On each up stroke, he applies additional pressure to make the pre drip down the head of his cock.

He’s making the most erotic sounds, a mix a raspy groans and needy whines. His abs flex while he pants, desperate for air. “Shit—baby. Miss you, pretty girl.” He fists his cock quicker, now, barely able to keep his hips on the bed. Carmy gives in and lets his hips work in tandem with his hand. “M’gonna fuck you so good when I get back—just-just like this—shit. You won’t be able to walk straight—“

It’s borderline hedonistic, the way his hips roll into his hand. Carmy’s completely unabashed. “S’good f’me. Feels s’good,” he mumbles like you’re actually there with him and not hundreds of miles away. The veins in his forearm clearly bulge out from the effort. There’s no telling how obscene the look on his face is right now.

It’s clear he’s nearing his peak from the way he’s whimpering. Small sounds and gasps leave his lips incessantly. His palm moves at a rapid pace, growing more sloppier by the second. A sharp, wanton whine escapes him before he murmurs. “Mmm, baby. Close—fuck. So fucking close, baby. Shit—gonna— m’gonna cum for you. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His cock pulses as cum spills all over his abdomen. Carmy’s hips continue to fuck his hand through his orgasm as he whimpers with every spurt of cum. There’s no coherency to his sounds; only carnal moans escape him.

He continues to fist his cock until he’s milked himself dry. Carmy’s painted with cum; it’s all over him. His white-covered abs rise and fall rapidly while he catches his breath. Finally, he lets go of his cock with a groan.

Carmy looks at himself through the video on his phone and chuckles lowkey. “Made a mess didn’t I?” His hand falls to his stomach. He traces out your first initial in the pool of white before letting his palm smear the cum across his abs.

After a moment, he spreads his fingers in front of the camera, showing the ropes of cum sticking to his hand. His voice is gravelly as he speaks.“Fuck. Guess I need to go hop in the shower. See you soon, baby.”

[luvrsrck]

first post! pre gaia battle angst cause i was listening to triassic love song by paris paloma and kept thinking about jason

⎯ ☆ ⎯

cw: fluffy smut, unprotected piv (use protection this is solely fictional!), sprinkle of angst

jason grace x reader (964 words!)

you frantically poked your boyfriend awake from his slumber.

"jason?"

"yeah sweetheart?" his voice was raspy from being woken up so late.

"do you think we’ll make it tomorrow?" your voice broke as your upper lip trembled. he rose up, turning on the lamp that sat on the bedside table.

he slowly leaned forward, like you were a deer in the middle of the road. when he cupped your face the dam broke. tears spilled as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"i just have this gut feeling that everything’s going to go wrong when we fight gaia" you hiccuped through sobs that broke his heart.

there was a second where no words were exchanged. it was just the two of you, jason stroking your cheeks with his thumbs in gentle, soothing motions.

he emphasized his breathing, taking deep breaths in and out until you followed him and your breathing evened out.

jason pulled you closer to him, away from your kneeling position and into him.

he kissed you so softly, like you were made of glass. there was no lust in it. just love and desperation.

you deepened the kiss, pulling him closer by his shirt and climbing into his lap. after pulling away, jason’s hands were still holding your face. you slowly took one of his hands off of your cheek and placed it under your shirt to squeeze your tit. he blushed.

"i need you. please."

his eyes widened.

"are you sure?"

a curt nodded confirmed it. he placed his other hand on your waist and ran his fingers over the warm skin.

you took it a step further, reaching under your shirt to pull it off entirely.

"you’re so beautiful…"

he laid you down and moved to leave wet kisses down your jaw and down to your neck. everything was so gentle and intimate.

you whined and tugged at his shirt, wanting it off. he complied and slid it off his body to reveal his muscles that you loved so much.

the tears were still falling, but your mind was more focused on your handsome boyfriend kissing and sucking at your neck.

he revelled in your soft whimpers as you pressed your thighs together. jason smirked against your neck and wedged his thigh in between your legs, gasping when you teasingly grinded against his hardon.

"kiss me again." you pleaded.

he wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours again, with more feverity this time. he kissed you like you were his last breath.

he then pulled away to kiss down your sternum all the way to your stomach, pulling your pajama pants and panties down in one go.

you impatiently kicked them somewhere across the room. jason pulled down his sweatpants, his dick aching to be inside you. if this was the last time he would ever feel you, he needed it to count.

you pulled away from the kiss to whine at him, glancing down to his pants that were still on. he got the hint and pulled them off, discarding them on the floor.

he rubbed his tip against your folds, until he deemed you wet enough to take him without prep. you were already stretched out to his size anyway.

you pulled him back into your chest to kiss him over and over again while he slowly pushed into you.

he paused for a minute to let you adjust, and when he thrusted in and out you felt like absolute heaven.

you hugged him close to you and locked your legs around his waist.

he wasn’t fucking you. no, this was different. he was making love to you.

you loved him so much. nothing could ever take jason grace from you.

he began to speed up his thrusts and you could feel how deep he was in you. your higher pitched whimpers and his groans were in tandem, you tracing the toned muscles on his back from years of training and fighting.

"do you know how lucky i am to be with you?" you choked out through moans.

you needed to have him as close to you as possible. he was putting his full body weight on your chest but you didn’t care. you needed him.

his thrusts were at a fast speed, but still not rough or hard. the tears of fear were gone now, all that were left were tears of pleasure falling from your eyes.

he could feel himself getting closer to filling you up. he grunted in your ear to warn you.

suddenly you pulled him in front of you and looked him directly in the eye.

"i love you so much jason. don’t you ever leave me."

you whispered before pulling him into a searing kiss to muffle your moans as the coil in your stomach snapped.

he fucking whimpered into your mouth, cumming inside of you with a gasp. the two of you were panting as he gently slid out.

you tackled him backwards onto the mattress, enveloping him into a hug, holding onto him as if he were gravity itself.

he chuckled raspily and wrapped his arm around your waist, placing a hand in your hair. after laying there holding you for a few minutes, he noticed your breathing had evened out and you were fast asleep in the crook of his neck: jason then hooked his hands under your thighs and gently hoisted you back under the covers.

his cum was dripping down your thigh but in your state you didn’t care. you needed to be as close to him as possible.

he slid himself under you and you subconsciously snuggled into his side, moving to lay your head on his chest.

he kissed your forehead before turning off the lamp and falling asleep himself.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

reblogs appreciated!!

[lvndosnorris]

Ive lately had an obsession like OBSESSION with ribbons so could we have a charles x reader where they fuck and the reader has a ribbon tied on her wrists (+overstimulation)

~💌

palms were sticky as you felt the red material tightened around your wrists, arms bound above your head as you intently studied the features of your boyfriend as he leant over you. you wanted nothing more than to push your head up in hopes you could catch his lips but you knew that your efforts would be met with a snarky remark about rushing and you'd more than likely be left with nothing.

"you know what to say if it's too much?" charles' tone was hard for you to decipher — sweet yet laced with so much authority. thighs clamped together you squeezed in search of some sort of friction, the burn between your legs becoming too hard to ignore as you hummed in response. trailing down your forearm he gripped your bicep, dull fingernails pinching your flesh as he ducked his mouth to ghost yours, "need you to use your words, mon ange."

only once you'd replied to him with a firm yes did he kiss you — teeth clashing against yours as he grazed your tongue with his, a small groan vibrating in the back of his throat as you compliantly swallowed it. it was a hard kiss, one that made your lips tingle as he tucked your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling the flesh a little as it made a satisfactory pop. the look in his eyes spoke the words that neither of you could conjure, your hands tugging slightly as you remembered the silk ribbon that clasped them together.

"please charles—" your pleads soon stopped as he pried your thighs apart with his leg, cool air hitting your warmth with a small gasp escaping your lips. your hazed mind almost forgot how you'd gotten into this position, charles' fingers reminding you of the teasing during the evening's events as he left your skin cold to undo his own belt. there was a part of you that dared to ask him to put the belt to good use, yet your confidence soon swindled as he kicked off the remainder of his clothes — doe-like eyes watched the way his skin danced under the soft amber hue of the bedroom lamp, casting the most beautiful shadows over every curve and crevice of your bodies.

your cunt had already been stretched to accommodate him, the remnants of your previous orgasm still coating his pointer and middle finger. you'd begged to lick them clean, desperate for him to praise you and call you his good girl — yet he denied you, a click of his teeth followed by a shush as he'd bound your hands. your previous orgasm was still lurking in your limbs, chest heaving at the way you'd lost your breath and your ability to speak coherently. you were a sight to behold, one that charles wanted to freeze and keep in his memory forever.

charles' pants were shallow as he wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft, eyes connected to the wetness that coated your inner thighs as he pumped himself a few times. rolling his wrist in a way that made him buck into his own touch, eyebrows furrowed as he mentally argued with himself over whether he should tease you a little further, or give you what you so badly wanted. with his thumb rubbing over his tip he smeared the pre-cum, glistening the upper part of his length as he hissed, jaw tight.

all you wanted to do was coax his head into the crook of your neck, desperate to have him as close as possible as you finally felt him there. the bluntness of his tip nudged your clit, the sensation toe-curling as you fought the urge to fold in half. it was a good type of soreness, the one you were familiar with whenever you and charles' got intimate — yet the bubble in your stomach felt different as he lined himself up with you. your pupils intensely sought his as he started to push his hips towards yours, one hand fisting the sheets beneath you as the other snaked just below your chest.

you sucked him in to the point of it being hard for him to thrust any deeper, his head tilted as he watched how you convulsed around him. it was obvious you were still reeling from cumming around his fingers, his mouth curled into a deviant smile as swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, "gotta' relax for me chérie, making it hard for me to fit"

a choked sob tumbled from your lips, one that caught your boyfriends attention as he leant down to brush his lips over your forehead. your words were jumbled as you begged for him to let you touch him properly, the need to have your nails dug into his back evident as you pinched your own palms. you felt helpless, a moan suppressed as he bottomed out of you. his thrusts were slow, torturous, each one feeling deeper than the other as your eyes shut out of bliss.

charles' teeth grazed your throat, peppering your sweat-lined flesh with open-mouthed kisses. with each nip his tongue followed, flat against the sensitive bite-mark as he soothed it; the constant drag of his cock sending your mind into oblivion. he cursed about how tight you were, how you were made just for him — but you found it hard to comprehend, your wrists aching from where you'd pulled and pushed in an attempt to loosen the ribbon just enough for you to slip out of your confinements.

tears welled in your waterline, threatening to spill and stain your cheeks as he quickened his pace. it was relentless, the sweet spot inside of you grazed and stroked by the tip of his cock as he grunted against the valley of your tits. there was no way for you to wriggle free, charles' body sprawled on top of yours as he pinched your outer thigh, hiking it a little further up his waist as he searched for the angle that would tip you over the edge. for the second time.

"i'm gonna— fuck—" was all you managed to choke out, body relishing in the pleasure that surged through you. your veins electric as he stared up at you, his lips parted against the underside of your boob. in that moment he looked at you as if you'd hung every star in the sky, a masterpiece that was unwinding below him as he brought you right to fringe of ecstasy.

"that's it, just like that baby..." he drawled, unable to think straight as your gummy walls clenched around him. he knew your body like the back of his hand, your second climax on the horizon as he fucked into you with more force. face buried in the crook of your arm your moans were silent, throat hoarse as you let the tears spill, the overstimulation driving you to insanity as you felt the knot inside of you snap.

white-noise rung out in your ears as you came around charles', a profanity whimpered by your boyfriend as he felt your body shake. it was a push and pull motion; his thrusts sloppier as he helped you ride through your orgasm, milking you of everything you had to give as you felt your mouth run dry. it didn't take long before he followed, knees harsh on the mattress as he stilled inside of you — his seed warm as it dribbled out of you, his groans muffled as he buried his head in your chest.

"please—" you begging finished mid-sentence, every last ounce of his strength used to lift and undo the ribbon that had rubbed your wrists raw. every part of you felt limp as he guided your arms down, a thumb smoothing over your skin as he brought them to his lips, mumbling a quiet "did s'good for me baby... so good".

[amorchai]

#𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 ─ 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐖 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄.

written for my old blog but never posted!

pairing(s): husband!andrew garfield x reader

words: 521

warnings/tags: established relationship, insecurity + anxiety.

andrew had noticed your agitated state the entire night, sitting beside him at the awards show and gazing towards any celebrity that passed. he kept his hand on your thigh, thumb swiping the material of your outfit as he allowed the night to pass and question you once you got home.

he waited in bed, having gotten ready first and playing the television from across the bed on a low volume, listening to your movement around the bathroom, door open and allowing him to catch glimpses of your moving frame as you work on your skincare.

andrew sighs to himself while his thoughts run at a million beats per minute, he didn’t like to see you so quiet without knowing what’s wrong. and his excitement when you shut the bathroom door behind you, walking towards the bed, quickly drops when you tuck yourself beneath the duvet and turn away to face the wall.

“goodnight,” is all you murmur to him as an indication for him to turn off his beside lamp.

however, once he does, he turns over to cautiously wrap his arms around you, pulling you towards his chest in a need for your proximity. andrew feels your hand fall atop his arm wrapped around your waist, coaxing him to keep it there but not saying anything.

“i don’t know what i did wrong, but whatever it is, i’m sorry, okay?”.

you turn in his arms, able to see his face in the early night moonlight cascading his features, as pretty as always. “you didn’t do anything wrong, baby.” andrew feels a sense of relief, knowing that you weren’t annoyed at him, but still wanting to know what’s made you so disconnected.

lifting his arm, his fingers gently graze your cheekbones while he whispers towards you, gentle in the pre-midnight air, “you can talk to me, you know?”. his head nudges forward to connect your foreheads, nose nudging yours to comfortably situate his face as close as possible, eyes closing.

“it’s just— those girls, andrew. all those celebrities—” you cut yourself off, unsure of how you sound and hoping he could drop it.

but it’s andrew, and he’s too caring for his own good sometimes.

“what about them, baby?” he murmurs, leaning further into your face, breath fanning your lips as his tone sounded deep and trusting. when you don’t reply he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, long and sweet to try and calm you down.

“you know, you were the prettiest one in the whole room?”

andrew knew you too well, and from a few words he was able to figure out the cause of your absent-focus, murmuring sweet lines against your lips to try and convince you of your beauty, of how much you matter to him.

“i swear, the best award i won tonight was the one i already entered the building with, okay? nothing to worry about, you matter the most to me.” andrew holds your face, so assuring and kind as he presses more kisses, this time around the expanse of your face before landing once more against your lips.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[bwobgames]

...Huh.

She wasn't aware that sleep paralysis demons could purr

Wait, she recognizes this fur ball! This is Mozilla Firefox!

But how did it end up in her room?

Did he also wake up Nina?

As she looks to the other bed, she finds no wife in sight

"Ah, this little troublemaker probably woke her up, and she went to the bathroom or something"

She gives the kitty some pets. She sees that the door was left ajar, probably how the cat snuck in, and evidence that Nina is out.

"Where is your dad, orange menace? Did he let you have a moment of freedom? Or did you run away in a rebellious movement"

Mozilla makes some cat noises.

Hopefully, it's the first option.

She starts hearing some movement outside, seems like someone is walking throught the hall. She can't see them, so they must be coming from the bathroom.

Whoever they are, they're not particularly fast. Is it Nina?

She hears a door closing, the sound catches Mozilla's attention.

Maybe it was Oliver, and the kitty is going back to his room.

Beebo loves praising his cat for his good manners. But he's also Orange, so Marigold tends to doubt the veracity of his claims.

Good thing of being in a closed space is that he's not getting lost any time soon.

Marigold wanted to talk to Nina, she's sure the talk about... dead brothers... must've stirred something in her.

And there's no better time to talk out feelings than witching hour. Mari's specialty.

She lays down, turns on the lamp, and waits for her return.

Perhaps rest her eyes a little.

Nina has not come back.

It's been about 30 minutes and she has not come back.

The only time she takes that long in the bathroom is when she's showering, and there's no showers on the train!

Could she be feeling sick? Perhaps she's out there getting herself some herbal tea?

Maybe she had too much in her head to sleep?

Either way, it's time to get into action. She is wifeless and the world refuses to answer why.

She puts on a bathrobe. Oliver was right. There really is a drastic temperature drop, even in summer.

She doesn't bother fixing her hair, there's more important matters at hand.

As she leaves, she hears some chatter coming from Simon and Owen's room. Did those two stay up late again? That bad habit is not gonna help them in university.

Mari would know.

Actually, it sounds way more muffled than their usually loud laughs. Oh, is it also a late night feelings conversation?

While Marigold would love to have every single piece of information on anything that could possibly negatively impact her children, she also knows some things need to be spoken with a peer rather than a mother.

They're growing. She can't carry them anymore.

Even if she thinks their marriage was a bit early, she could never regret having her kids.

They are a handful. A particularly expensive handful.

But they are hers. The best thing that her pre-destined fate had to offer. Her family.

A family that has been gaining new members as of late.

Is nice, to finally have such a thing as a happy family.

And she would do anything to keep it that way.

Sounds like the boys went to sleep. Her silent guard ends.

She has also been hearing low chatter in one of their new trainmates' rooms, but that's something that she would rather not intrude upon.

She checks the bathrooms part and finds none of the doors have the lights on.

She goes even deeper and finds an empty room.

Where is she?

"My wife.... Where's my wife..."

She walks through the trains corridors

<PREV START NEXT>

[thecheshireprincess]

Writing prompt that came to mind was how would Chishiya take care of his pretty girl if she had a bad day cause I know he’d cheer you up

Bad Day

Chishiya x Reader (No pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Your best friend does what he knows to help you feel better after a bad day.

Content Warning: Possibly curse words; this is literally just fluff. Very tame for Talia, please be proud.

AO3 Link

A/N: This is part one of two stories that I wrote for @potato-vagina's request; I wanted to show some fun character development with Chishiya pre and post-Borderland. Though you aren't necessarily his "pretty girl" here, you will be.

Find part two here! Proof of Life is a drabble that belongs somewhere between the two parts ❤️

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

That's Murphy's Law - a somber addage that you don't typically allow yourself to subscribe to. Usually, you're too positive of a person for that kind of thing. Today, however, you wish to find whoever Murphy is and curse him out for the shit day you were currently experiencing.

You'd overslept your alarm by thirty minutes, smacking your head off the bedside lamp in your rush to get up and ready. A piece of toast had burnt your hand, you missed the first two trains to get across the city to your nine AM class, and now you were caught in the rain without your umbrella; the item in question without a doubt still leaning forgotten next to the front door.

A shiver wracks through your body as you huddle under the small shelter of the bus stop, rain pelting heavily against the metal overhead. The bus is usually your absolute last choice for transportation, but right now it's the only thing that may still get you to your class on time. Surely your day has to turn around from here, right? You believe in the power of optimism - maybe if you can just focus your mind onto more positive things, the things around you will improve. Right.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot your bus approaching down the street and rush out of your temporary shelter to flag it down a little madly. You would not be missing the bus too. The driver blessedly pulls over to the side to let you on, but not without first splashing into a massive puddle you hadn't seen before; sending a wave of freezing cold, dirty rain water cascading over your form.

Perfect, just perfect. Now you will be miserable, cold, and wet for the rest of the day. And isn't that just what you needed? Forget the power of optimism. Today is a bad day.

With just three minutes to spare, you finally make it into the sprawling lecture hall, most of your classmates already seated and chattering happily amongst themselves. You toss your bag haphazardly down on the floor beside your seat, flopping into the stiff wooden chair with a long sigh. At least you had gotten your body to class - whether your mind would be capable of focusing on any material was a different question entirely.

Your blonde best friend turns to look at you from the seat next to yours, a smirk growing on his smug face as he takes in your soaked appearance. He raises an eyebrow quizzically, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the laminate table in front of him. Before he can get even a single snide comment out of his mouth, you put a trembling hand up. "Don't. Not today, I'm not in the mood," you mumble in warning, knowing exactly where this conversation would be heading if you didn't nip it in the bud.

Chishiya raises his hands in dramatic mock surrender, blinking slowly at you instead, waiting for you to continue. You always continued.

"I'm having the worst day ever," you lament, rubbing aggressively at your eyes with the heels of your hands and leaning back precariously in your rickety chair; not caring if it suddenly decides to break. That would just be your luck today. He nods, eyes narrowing as he continues to study you. "Seems like it," he deadpans, still tapping, still staring. Making no move to question you further or offer his condolences.

Realistically, you know better than to expect Chishiya to try to comfort you, especially over a series of events so trivial. Though he's been your best friend since starting medical school a few years ago, you don't dare assume he feels more for you than tolerance. That's just who he is, and you'd long ago accepted that from him. Most of all, he is not the sympathetic type.

So when your friend begins calmly packing up the notebooks and pens that had been laid out neatly in front of him, your jaw drops in surprise. Class hadn't even begun yet, let alone finished - where was he going? Your confused eyes rake over his careful movements as he packs up his school bag, willing your brain to catch up with him. Chishiya was always five steps ahead of you, and this time you didn't want him to leave you behind.

"Come with me," he mutters simply, leaving no room for arguing; the man standing from his seat and turning to leave the room. You scramble after him in shock, carelessly looping the strap of your bag over your arm. "Chishiya! We're skipping class? We shouldn't!" you whisper yell as to not attract attention to yourselves sneaking out the back.

He snorts before responding, continuing his smooth walk down the hallway to the exit. "You definitely shouldn't, you need the lecture more than me," he says derisively, not bothering to look back at you, "but one day won't hurt. Probably." You shoot him a glare for his comment, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. This was your worst class, after all, everyone knew that.

Chishiya hesitates a moment before opening the heavy glass door to the outside, looking back at you briefly as if considering something. He sighs, shrugging his beloved jacket off and holding it out to you without another word. Your jaw nearly hits the floor at this display of Chishiya caring about something other than himself, but choose not to comment for fear that it would break the illusion. You hurriedly wrap the soft jacket around you, the man's warmth soaking quickly into your chilled bones. "Thank you," you whisper, almost so quietly you aren't sure he even heard you; but the man nods once and proceeds to exit the building.

You continue your journey together in familiar silence - Chishiya isn't much of a talker even on a good day, and you're still hardly in the mood to beg for conversation from him. So you just follow him. You think you'd follow him to the end of the Earth if he asked you to.

An art museum. Chishiya had brought you to an art museum. To make you feel better? You weren't sure.

The blonde leads you masterfully through various sculptures and paintings, obviously having an exhibit in mind in the large, brightly lit space. When he stops you in front of a painting, you look at him in curiosity. Nearly disbelief. "The Mona Lisa?" you inquire, watching as Chishiya looks up at it almost reverantly, barely breathing.

After a brief moment of silence, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "There's really only been one thing in my life that has ever incited curiosity in me . . ." he begins, tone hushed but steady, "For some reason, the first time I laid eyes upon this painting, I couldn't look away. Still can't," he says with another sharp breath out, something akin to a chuckle for the man. His eyes never once leave the painting to look at you or anywhere else.

"I just wanted someone to understand me back then. I didn't think I'd ever have that from an actual person." He tilts his head now at the painting, as if he were looking at something completely different than he remembered. A comfortable silence blankets over the two of you as your breaths and hearts sync.

You turn to study your friend, seeing him through a different lens in this place - his safe place. His safe place, where he felt understood for the first and maybe only time in his life. His safe place, that he was sharing with you to help you feel better on a bad day. You feel your breath catch in your throat at the realization, that maybe. Just maybe. Chishiya did like you beyond just tolerating your presence. Because why would a man like him ever bother to tolerate a person if he didn't need to? I didn't think I'd ever have that from an actual person. Did he mean . . .?

He leads you to sit on a marbled bench in front of the painting, a place you guessed he'd probably spent a lot of time in his life. You could almost see the ghost of younger Chishiya in the room, searching for something among the colorful strokes of paint. You hope he found it. A wave of calm rushes over you sitting here in the quiet gallery, surrounded by nothing and no one except Chishiya and the Mona Lisa. The small pains of your morning begin to easily melt from your mind, a pleasant warmth radiating through your body despite your clothes and hair still being damp.

Suddenly, things click into place. You get it. Chishiya wasn't expecting to make your day better by showing you the Mona Lisa. He was making your day better by sharing a piece of himself with you. Because you get him. You sigh contentedly, a tiny grin on your face, letting your focus drop briefly into your lap to consider your next move.

After a few more moments of easy silence and introspection, you finally make a bold decision. "Thank you for understanding what I needed today," you whisper, laying your head gingerly against his shoulder with a smile as you follow his gaze back up to study the painting.

You don't see it, but the corners of Chishiya's lips quirk up slightly as his heart skips a beat in his chest. His now enigmatic smile rivals even that of the one he'd studied for years.

Mutual understanding. With you.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Part Two

Masterlist

Everything Tag List: @potato-vagina @28361573 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ghostly-xxo @monkey4lifer @trinibadgyal @izzybizzyk

Chishiya Tag List: @kimsrie @jjkxxy

As always, please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of my tag lists! You can specify if there's a character you like or if you want to see everything. Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[strangecreaturewrites]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐍 ✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ----- mickey barnes x f/gn!reader

pre-canon au ⊹ read part one here ⊹ chapter summary: you bring mickey back to your apartment for the night, where you two get much closer. nsfw/mdni ----- warnings: oral sex (reader giving), grinding ( i wanna thank everyone who commented on/messaged me about the first part of this fic! all of you were very sweet, and i really appreciate your feedback <3 the story officially has a title, and i will be creating a masterlist post once i have three parts posted. you can follow the tag "#not a sin | strangecreature" for updates as well. hope you enjoy! ⊹ divider by enchanthings-a )

Your apartment was a fourth floor walkup fifteen minutes away from the macaron shop. The gloomy, narrow staircase always sent a foreboding shudder down your spine, and you kept looking over your shoulder at Mickey as you ascended, just to make sure he was still there.

“I didn’t know you walked to work every day,” he said, winded though he was clearly trying to mask it. “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, a little breathless yourself.

You could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “I don’t doubt it,” and it made you smile too.

You reached the landing to the fourth floor, with its flickering gray-white light above the door, and at the end of the short hallway, you unlocked the door to your unit. This was your first time living in a major city, so your money didn’t go very far, but it was tolerable. It didn’t smell of old pipes or mold, and there didn’t appear to be a pest problem — what more could you ask for, given the circumstances?

The unit opened to a cozy, lamp-lit living/dining room that you decorated in a hodgepodge of thrifted furniture. The archway to the galley kitchen dominated the right wall, while your bedroom door was tucked away to the left. Right by the entry was the bathroom, the bane of your existence if only for how microscopic it was.

You stepped aside to let Mickey walk in, closing and locking the door behind him. You stepped out of your shoes and set the box of extra macarons on the side table along with your wallet and keys.

You watched him as he looked around, taking in what there was to see, and though you tried to read his expression, he only wore the contented look you most often saw on his face. He really was such a good-looking man. The way his hair fell over his eyes was so inviting; you wanted to brush his hair back, to run your fingers along the planes of his face. Your stomach rioted with butterflies.

When he turned to you, a nervous little grin flickering on his lips, you shook yourself out of your reverie.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Please, don’t be shy, I want you to be comfortable.”

Mickey chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? Here, give me your jacket, make yourself at home, please.”

You could feel yourself fretting over him a bit too much, but he let you get him settled on the couch with minimal protest. You brought him a glass of water, turned on some music for background noise, adjusted the thermostat once you got him to admit the air was a little chilly.

“It’s real nice of you, letting me stay here tonight. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. I’d feel terrible if I left you on your own when I knew I could help,” you replied, dropping onto the couch next to him. Your knee brushed his as you adjusted to face him, and you wanted to find other ways to touch him. Your fingertips running along his forearm, your legs draped over his lap. Maybe he would place his hand on your thigh. Maybe you could shift closer and tuck into his side, his arm settling around you to bring you closer. Your skin tingled as you thought through all the possibilities at lightning speed.

But you held yourself back, even as your heart and mind raced on. He was your guest, and he didn’t really have anywhere else to go at the moment. Your care for him outweighed even your desire to touch him — the last thing you wanted was to make him feel cornered.

So instead, you asked him more questions about himself. With some surprise, you discovered that he enjoyed reading, mostly nonfiction, mostly world history.

“Doesn’t that get bleak?” you asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged. “Kinda. Sometimes it’s nice to know things have always sucked a lil' bit in some way. That it’s not just now, y’know?”

“I guess.”

The conversation trailed off as the music faded out, the silence buzzing before the next song came in. It was a brief interlude, not more than a few seconds, but as you looked at him, with his sweet blue eyes and his hands clasped in his lap, a wave of tenderness washed over you.

“I’ll miss seeing you every day,” you said softly, tentatively. If you’d thought it over some more before you spoke, you might’ve played it off differently, like it didn’t matter to you so much, but the truth of the statement was a weighty thing. It made you feel vulnerable to admit it, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. The butterflies rioted again, more nervy than excited this time.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem weirded out by your confession. “Is the expedition leaving tomorrow or somethin’? We can still see each other.”

Your breath hitched. “Really?”

“Of course. You can stop by the shop anytime- or- or not,” he said, faltering toward the end with a sheepish look on his face as you hummed your disapproval, crinkling your nose.

“I am not going back there ever again. Sorry.” Maybe you were being rude, but the aura of the storefront was just too off-putting. Almost as unnerving as your apartment’s stairwell, but in a more subtle way. You wouldn’t be able to explain why if he asked you, though.

He nodded as you spoke, wincing. “I get that. Yeah. That’s okay.”

“But we can hang out when you’re done at the shop,” you suggested hopefully, nudging his knee with yours.

He kept nodding, and you noticed the pink blooming on the shells of his ears. You bit your lip against a wide smile and nudged him again.

“Or… you could come here and see me.”

His eyes widened. “Oh- okay.”

“Would that be good?”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be- so good…” You placed your hand over his where they were still clasped, and you heard his breath stutter. He looked stricken as he stared down at his lap, his expression naked in its shock, and you couldn’t immediately tell what he was thinking.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” you murmured, squeezing his hands. “Because you can tell me if I am. I’ll stop, I promise.”

He quickly shook his head, a breathless laugh leaving him as he replied, “God, no, no, don’t stop. It’s just been- a while, since the last time I was- y’know, with someone.”

Well, that’s one curiosity satisfied — and yet, it opened a floodgate in your mind. You wanted him so badly, you would do just about anything.

You hummed, shifting closer to him. Slowly, gently, you brought both your hands up to cradle his jaw. “You wanna be with me?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. His gaze softened, locked on your mouth, and the sight made you shiver.

Your lips dropped open as you pulled him into a deep kiss, and in almost the same instant, his arms curled around your body. His fingertips pressed into your back, your waist, gripping you as if you were the only thing keeping him steady. One of his hands drifted up you spine to the nape of your neck, holding you tight as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further. He was trembling against you, and your head spun with how quickly you two had gotten to this point, each kiss rougher than the last. You pushed your hands up into his hair as you gave him as much as you got.

Heat poured down your spine at the first swipe of his tongue, and you closed your lips around it, sucking gently — not a tease, but a promise of what was to come.

A broken moan erupted from his throat as he pulled back.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he panted. He mashed his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his breath hot on your skin. “I need to get a grip, wow.”

“I need to get out of this shirt.” One quick kiss. Another. “It’s very poor quality, by the way.”

With an impish smile, his hands slid down to your waist, bunching the fabric as he pulled it up your body. “I can help you with that.”

You hummed happily as you let him undress you.

Yes, he certainly could help you, couldn’t he?

When you were both stripped to your underwear, you dragged Mickey off of the couch and into your bedroom, walking backward so you could keep your mouth connected with his. You both stumbled and laughed as you ambled your way around each obstacle until you reached the bed, falling to the mattress in a tangle of limbs. The feeling of his warm skin against yours, of his hands clutching your body to his — it was the answer to every desire you’d felt lately, somehow better than all your fantasies.

You thought back to those sunny afternoons talking with him behind the counter and wishing you could cut the bullshit and bring him home, and that sense of power from before came pouring back in. He was yours now.

Emboldened, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled him over to lie on his back, straddling his hips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth, and his breath stuttered and hitched as he worked the clasp of your bra. “You want me to make you feel good?”

He groaned, shoving his hands under the cups to squeeze your breasts as soon as the garment was loose.

“Hm?” you prompted him, nipping at his bottom lip.

He chanted, “yes, yes, yes,” as his hands kneaded you, caressed you. So eager. So irresistible.

You kissed down his chest, his stomach, tossing your bra to the floor. When you reached the waistband of his boxers, you licked a teasing stripe over the skin there, eliciting another wobbly groan out of him. He gripped the comforter with tight fists, and you knew he was fighting to maintain at least some part of his composure.

If you had a stronger will, you would tease him some more. You glanced up his gorgeous body to see a red flush already working its way down his neck, and you wanted to see how far you could push him, what he would do, how he would sound when he was pushed to the edge of desperation.

At the moment though, you weren’t much better off than him. Your fingers shook as they pulled down his underwear, your hand reaching for his hard cock the moment you saw it; he had to shove his boxers down the rest of the way himself, the garment was so quickly forgotten by you.

You angled him toward your mouth, rubbing your lips over the thick head before taking him in. You worked him over slowly at first, recalling the ways to move your lips and tongue — he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been with someone in a while — and your confidence grew as his breath became more and more labored. His cock throbbed as you picked up speed, took more of him in, keeping your mouth tight and plush around him. As your saliva made things slicker, your hand worked the remaining length, your palm smoothing up over the head when you had to pull off to take a breath.

The next time you sunk down, slowly, all the way until you met your hand, he gritted out, “God, look at you.”

You glanced up to find his wild, heavy eyes, his red, slack lips, his crumpled brow. The flush poured down his panting chest, and his stomach jumped when you pressed your tongue against him, tightening your mouth around him.

He was still clawing the comforter, so you reached up with your free hand to place one of his in your hair. When his fingers tightened there, tugging at the root, you moaned luxuriously, just so he could feel the vibration.

He didn’t last much longer after that, coming over your tongue with a whine.

If you had a stronger will, you would act like going down on him didn’t affect you so much. You would be seductive. You would kiss him lazily, confidently, as he came down from his high, and revel in whatever pleasure he would eagerly bestow upon you.

At the moment though, you were about to shiver out of your skin, your arousal so compounded from weeks of fantasizing, wanting, needing.

In the end, you crawled up his body, your hips pulsing against his thigh as you ravaged his mouth in fierce, biting kisses. When he rolled you over, his hands found your breasts again, and he pressed his leg tightly to your cunt as you ground against him. You whimpered too loudly, considering how thin you knew your walls to be.

You couldn’t wait for him to get hard again, you couldn’t wait for him to do anything else. You couldn’t even wait for him to take off your underwear. Your hips thrusted against him wildly, chasing pleasure until it broke, your orgasm crashing over you in electrifying pulses.

He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your jaw as your body melted into the mattress. You were both out of breath, covered in sweat, and seemingly beyond words. The music you'd put on earlier drifted in from the living room, but you could only hear the impression of it, too soft to discern what song it was or who sang it.

You drifted to sleep wrapped around him, his face pressed into the hollow of your throat. The last thing you felt were his lips, brushing the dip between your collarbones, softly, slowly, as if you were something precious.

[astra-ravana]

The Basic Principles Of Spellcasting

Law of Similarity

These first two principles are from James Frazer's The Golden Bough and are fundamental to all of magick. Frazer describes this law as "like produces like" . This law says that manipulation of an image or likeness yields manipulation of the thing itself. Here's some examples of the Law of Similarity:

• Stabbing a human-shaped figure with nails or pins to cause pain to the person

• Drawing the practitioner holding their love interest by a leash in a "love leash" spell

• Writing a spell in a circle around someone's name to encircle or restrain them

• Putting a love spell that aims to make the target "burn with love" into a candle flame or oil lamp

• Walking upon a written spell to have the target "underfoot" and under your control

Similarity isn't restricted by literal similarity, it extends to metaphorical similarity as well. Idioms and puns were widely used in Egyptian myth and magick.

Law of Contagion

Frazer puts this one quite well: things which have once been in contact with eachother continue to act on eachother. One can extend this law to say that magickal energy can be transferred or shared between objects by contact and that transferal is strongest if they are in contact or extremely close. Examples include:

• Using the hair of a target in a spell or curse

• Writing a spell to a deity on the hide of a corresponding animal

• Burying a separation spell at the home of a couple to affect them

Hair is super useful (and sometimes required) for any spell targeted at someone. Some even keep or trade hair as collateral.

Note:If you need to perform substitutions in a spell, use the Law of Similarity and Law of Contagion for selecting the substitution, (ie: use red wine mixed with an animal's hair instead of blood from that animal).

Law of Durability

This law is basically covered by the Law of Similarity, but, because it's so important for picking components, it is being included separately. Magick done with more durable components will yield a longer lasting effect. For example, a spoken spell will be weaker than a spell written on parchment. The written spell will be weaker than a spell carved into wood or stone. This applies to enchanting as well; more durable items will stay enchanted longer.

Law of Layering

The Law of Layering must be applied carefully as it is about complementary layers, not throwing a bunch of stuff at a wall. The principle is the more layers that are used in magick, the stronger the magick will be. More layers build more power. Some ways to add layers are:

• Having a pre-spell ritual like bathing and meditating

• Cast spells in a designated space for casting with items designated for magick

• Make motions that mirror the words you're saying

• Add components to your spell via the Law of Similarity, the Law of Contagion, or objects along your correspondence.

• Perform the spell with a group as opposed to solo

• Reinforce a spell by doing it for multiple days, weeks, months, etc. (as in 'once per')

Law of Likeliness

One could compare magick to stacking a deck; you're manipulating chance to get circumstances to fall in your favor. This means two things. The first is magick cannot make the impossible happen. Magick is unlikely to cause things to levitate, or conjure fire from nowhere, or anything that isn't possible in our plane of existence. The second is, if an outcome is less likely, stronger magick is required to achieve it. Some decks are just easier to stack.

Law of Agency

No magick, short of possession, can fully rob a human of their free will. For example, if you cast a love spell on a target who's sexuality doesn't align with yours, it will have little to no effect. If a person is resistant to a certain energy in their day-to-day life, they will similarly be resistant to that same energy when sent via magick.