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isaacswhy · 5 months

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hair

yumi x afab!reader (nsfw) summary: yumi tells you he needs a haircut, and you convince him it's a bad idea. requested?: by poll tags: oral (afab!receiving), hair pulling, somewhat sub yumi, no gendered terms or pronouns just anatomically afab MINORS DNI

"I need a haircut."

Those were your least favorite words you had to hear from your boyfriend, Blake. Even as you'd been conditioning him to get his hair cut a reasonable length and not to look like a toddler, it was hard. Every single stylist you brought him to would fuck him up.

Seated on his bed, you looked up at him from your phone and glared at him, to the best of your ability. "The hell you do."

"I do! Don't you see the fuckin' mop on my head?" Blake made a dramatic motion to his hair.

You frowned. You'd been learning how to cut hair in secret for the last few months, and you weren't quite ready to put your skills to the test. Most of your work had been on Isaac, who was willing enough to let you practice on him. Not like he was appearing much in videos anyways.

"Yeah, but it's my mop. It looks so pretty when it grows out, you can actually see the little waves in your hair," You said, making a little wavy motion with your hand.

Blake let out a dramatic sigh. "We can find a new person to cut my hair, a real professional, but please. I need to be able to see my screen one of these days."

You cocked a brow at him. "Then put it up or something. You know I think it looks sexy pushed back."

"It looks fuckin' stupid pushed back, and you know it."

"Not when I push it back."

Blake's head whipped over to you, as he had turned somewhat back to his computer. His cheeks flushed a little bit and he let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, well, that's a different, uh, thing."

"What? You know I like to put my hands through it and everything. Like when you're in my lap or-" You paused for a moment and let out a loud laugh, "Holy shit, Blake, that was not what I meant."

Blake put his head in his hands for a moment, letting out a long sigh. "Well.."

You began cracking up into a small fit of laughter. "Holy shit, you are so sex-brained it's crazy. You horny bitch, you like it when I pull your hair like that?"

Blake's face was completely covered by his hands, but you could see the redness in his ears. "Fuck off."

You stood up from his bed, leaving your phone on his comforter. Walking over to Blake, his face was still buried in his hands as you ran a hand through his soft, brown hair. He leaned into your touch on impulse and you smiled, opting not to make a comment about it.

"I know you like giving head, baby," You said in a softer voice, "There's no reason to be ashamed of it."

"I know," Blake whined as he pulled his head from his hands and looked at the ground, "It's just not super normal. Every guy I grew up around only ever talked about just dicking their partners down."

You nodded as your fingers worked through different strands of his hair. "But it's okay to not just want that. To like doing other things, too. You know that, right?"

Blake looked up at you. "Yeah, I know that, too. It's just- I think about it a lot. Drives me crazy sometimes."

You laughed softly as your eyes met his. "You are the horniest man on planet Earth, I think. But.. I don't mind, if I'm getting head all the time."

"That you are," Blake grinned as he slowly stood up, you taking a step back to give him room to stand.

You took his hand and pulled him over to the bed, and he followed along eagerly. You stopped him near the edge of the bed, putting a hand in his hair and pushing him down to his knees. He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to your clothed thighs, eyes closed.

His hands trailed up the back of your thighs, groping at your ass briefly before his fingers looked to hook under the band of your sweatpants you had taken from his wardrobe. He successfully was able to, slowly pulling them down until they hit the floor, him now pressing his kisses to the skin of your thighs.

He was a little hastier to get to the hem of your underwear, pulling it off the same as he did with your sweats. His kisses trailed up, making you hold your breath as he got closer to where you wanted him to be. He teased just a little, kissing over the folds.

Before you could say anything, he stopped you just as you opened your mouth by dragging a tongue between them. The first bit of stimulation shut you down almost immediately, your right hand grasping into his soft hair. You heard him let out a small sound as his tongue dragged along your clit, making a slow circle that had your breathing turning shaky.

You stopped him for a moment, using your hand to pull him away, before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Your legs spread apart, because you knew he could work well with better access. He was eager to continue, your hand guiding him back.

He took a few long licks, his tongue pressed flat, before he began what he was best at. His tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking softly to create a mind-numbing feeling of suction. Your head rolled back on your shoulders, letting out soft moans as your grip in his hair tightened.

His hand slid down your inner thigh, kneading at it briefly before coming closer to his mouth. One of his fingers dragged closer, finally teasing at your entrance. You could feel just how slick and hot you were, and it was bad. With Blake between your legs, how couldn't you be?

As soon as it slid inside, you let out a whine, feeling him push in and slowly begin to stretch you out. His fingers were thick enough to have one making you squirm, panting softly as his mouth continued to drive you crazy. The finger worked slowly but thoroughly, pushing in deep and curling to hit the sweet spot.

As soon as he pushed a second finger in without warning, you doubled over and keened. You'd turned into a mess, moaning and softly repeating his name under your breath. Blake seemed fine, totally under control as he licked and sucked at your sensitive points, his fingers driving in deeper. He looked almost entranced, his eyes closed but his mouth and fingers working rhythmically.

Your grip was slowly starting to tighten further into his hair, the feeling of pleasure only intensifying. Every second, it was getting more and more overwhelming and it signaled your orgasm was quickly approaching.

"Blake, baby," You said through shaky breaths, "Getting.. close."

He looked up at you with a devilish grin, and you felt your stomach fill with butterflies. You could only hold his gaze as his fingers pushed in faster and deeper, his mouth and tongue working overtime. The release came at you full-speed like a train, feeling like a coil snapped inside your guts. All of the sudden, you were moaning out like a whore and pulling Blake's hair hard.

As the waves of pleasure cascaded through you, clenching around his fingers, he slowed down and pulled his mouth from your sensitive, twitching clit. He gave you a soft smile, kissing you briefly. "Was that good?"

"Was that-" You scoffed and looked at him like he was insane, "Are you kidding me? That was amazing."

Blake grinned, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean. "Tastes so good."

"God, you're so.." You trailed off with a groan. He drove you insane, always so positive and goofy but looking to please at any given minute. It was like the universe had made him for you.

"So what?"

"So perfect," You sighed, "So, are you going to cut your hair now?"

Blake took a second to think before shaking his head. "No, I think I'll survive a few more weeks."

"That's right," You smiled and ruffled his hair with your hand, "Don't take this beautiful mop away from me just yet."

#yumi #yumimain #yumi x reader #tgc #the group #the group chat #tgc x reader #the group x reader #isaacwhy #bigt #softwilly

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crueisummer · 1 year

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𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

series summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

chapter summary: You and Charles stay up talking about your dreams, fears, insecurities, and things that haunt your mind when you're alone.

chapter warnings: vvv emotional, feminism (oh no! jk), derogatory remarks, swearing, mental health, mentions of death (herve, jules, tonio)

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 2 means we're halfway there!! For this chapter, I focused on the delicate's chorus to show the more vulnerable and "human" side of the characters. I will add the other aspects of the song to the following chapters. I also wrote this in a different style but I hope u guys like it. <333 Lastly, thank you all so much for almost 500 likes on the first chapter. ��°՞(≧□��)՞°·. screaming! crying!

word count: 3.5k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

01:57 ━━━━●───── 03:52 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

The light beamed into your eyes from the window, intensifying the pounding in your head and increasing your thirst. As you opened your eyes, you squinted against the brightness, gradually adjusting to the sudden flash. Sensing movement beside you, you turned around to find Charles sleeping shirtless beside you. Memories of the previous night flooded back, replaying in your mind.

Before leaving the party with Charles, you looked for Kika to inform her of your departure. Seeing Charles waiting for you near the elevator, phone in hand, she expressed concern with a worried expression. Charles had recently ended a three-year relationship, and his ex happened to be the best friend of his previous ex. Kika was well aware of Charles' red flags, as she knew you, her dear friend Y/N, were known for wholeheartedly loving and falling hard for others who often failed to appreciate you as you deserved.

“Please be careful,” She smiled at you to which you nodded. She watched as you approached Charles and he smiled upon seeing you. As you waved farewell to Kika, she softly whispers to herself, “with each other’s hearts.”

You and Charles found yourselves seated on the floor of your hotel room's living room, uncomfortable party clothes off, cozy hoodies on, and legs crossed, with a spread of chips, beer, and mini alcohol bottles laid out before you. During your conversation, you discovered your shared value of family, discussing the strong relationships you both had with your loved ones.

"Are you close to your mom?" It was a question you always asked the guys you were interested in. You believed that a man who had a good relationship with his mother would treat his partner with love and respect. Although it didn't always turn out to be true, you still posed the question.

"Yeah, the first thing I do when I return to Monaco is visit her. You know, she's the only one I trust to cut my hair?" Charles smiles warmly, reminiscing about his mom. "You see, she's a professional hairdresser. So, sometimes when she watches me on TV, she'll send me a text saying I need a haircut. I just reply with her flight details to come see me, and we laugh about it, but she still comes over. That's why I've never had a bad haircut!"

"That is adorable! How often does she visit and watch your races?" You ask, eager to know more about his mother.

"Well, not as often as I'd like, that's for sure. She usually accompanies Arthur to his races."

"Races? He races too?"

"Yeah, he competes in Formula 2. Sometimes the Formula 1 and 2 races coincide on the same weekends so I get to see them both." You're momentarily taken aback. Wow, they must be RICH rich!

"Formula 2? How many Formulas are there?!" You exaggerate.

"Just three, cheri," he chuckles. "You know, my dad used to race in Formula 3 back in the '90s."

"So, it runs in the family, huh? What does your dad do now?" You inquire, looking down and grabbing a chip. The room falls into an unexpected silence, and you glance up, noticing a soft and melancholic expression on his face.

"Well, actually, I lost my dad seven years ago," he replies, offering a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, Charles! I’m sorry, I had no idea..." Shock overtakes you, and you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand. Is that why he’s only been talking about his mom and brothers the whole night?

He interrupts, "No, it's okay. I think I’m getting used to talking about it. You know, they always interview me about their deaths. Sometimes I feel like they don't truly respect them, or me, and they just want me to talk about them for views and content."

"Deaths?" You're taken aback, struggling to comprehend the weight of his words.

"Yeah, over the past seven years, I've lost three important people in my life. My dad, my godfather Jules, and one of my best friends, Tonio."

"Charles, I'm so sorry to hear that. How have you been coping?" Rising from the floor, you move closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh.

"Sometimes I find myself spiraling into these depressive episodes where I just want to close off my heart. Because if you close your heart, no new people can enter, only to leave again." He looks away, his eyes welling up with tears. Your expression softens, and he musters a small smile in your direction. He continues, his voice filled with emotion, "I've tried it before, but I realized that it doesn't make anything easier. These days, I just choose to remember them for who they were, their lives, their dreams, and the sacrifices they made for me to be where I am today."

You were taken aback at Charles’ maturity. The mere thought of losing someone dear to your heart was overwhelming, and here he was, having experienced the loss of not just one, but three significant people in his life. You couldn't help but admire him for getting through his hardships and finding happiness in the time he shared with them. Especially since he uses it as motivation to be a better person.

As your conversation continued, you decided to shift to a lighter topic in an attempt to lift Charles' spirits. You shared stories of performing in numerous countries, while Charles recounted his experiences racing in Formula 1 events across the globe. You laughed at how unfamiliar you were with his sport, just as he was with your music.

He asks if you have your phone with you.

"Um, it's somewhere around here," you respond while searching for it. Eventually, you spot it on the kitchen counter. "Why?"

"Just open Apple Music or Spotify, whichever you prefer," he says with a mischievous grin as you sit back down in front of him. You nod and show him that Apple Music is open.

"Now search for my name," he instructs, and you type his name, discovering that he is listed as an 'artist'. There’s no way…

"Charles Leclerc Artist? How are you an artist?" you raise an eyebrow at him and glance back at your phone. You notice that he has released two songs in the past year.

He laughs at your confusion. "Well, Ms. Grammy singer, I also play the piano. I wrote these songs last year and finished them around the time of the Australian GP and the Miami GP, which is why they're named AUS23 and MIA23."

You're shocked, your mouth hanging open dramatically as you listen to the songs. Charles laughs at your reaction. You didn't think he could become any more attractive, and now he surprises you with this. Could he be the incarnation of your dream man?

"That's amazing! I guess I know who to call when I need help with a song," you wink at him, and he chuckles.

"No, no. You're at least 100 times better than me. I don't have as much talent as you do to write lyrics for the music," he praises you.

“Okay, since you know a bit about my art and making a song and all that, I, on the other hand, have no fucking idea about Formula 1. Like, why do you have to travel all around the world and race on different tracks? Is it like some kind of world tour?" You burst into laughter at your own humorous analogy, and Charles, who was as intoxicated as you, finding it amusing as well.

“Do you really want to understand it?” You nod at his question as he sits up straight and stretches his head and hands, “warming up” to explain.

"You see, every race weekend is different. Let’s say you do Plan A for this weekend, sometimes it works, and we get podium. But sometimes despite our best efforts, it doesn’t. So, after the race, we talk about what went right and what went wrong and then we make a new plan for the next race. Do you understand so far?”

You nod at him. Though a slight confusion still lingered in your mind, you couldn't help but be captivated by the passion radiating from his every word. The way his eyes sparkled, and his voice exuded genuine excitement revealed the depth of his love for his job. In that moment, you realized that this wasn't merely a profession to him; it was a true calling, a relentless pursuit of excellence that fueled his spirit.

"I still don’t understand. Maybe being there and watching it firsthand can help me. What do you think?" you playfully suggest, winking at Charles as you extend your legs onto his lap. He responds by grabbing your leg with his left hand and dramatically clutching his heart with his right, feigning a heart attack. "Oh, amour, the thought of you in red."

As your connection deepened, you both began to open up and share parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden. You spoke honestly about your doubts, worries, and the overwhelming thoughts that haunted you when you were alone.

"Can I ask you something?" you inquire, looking up at him.

"Go ahead," he replies, grabbing a chip and taking a bite.

"Have you read about me? Like on the internet, in articles or magazines?"

"I see the headlines, but I don’t really read them, so let's just go with a 'no,'" he says, wiping the salt and dust from his hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I’m sure I already know your answer, but doesn't it bother you sometimes, the things they write about you?" you question, and he nods, encouraging you to continue. "It's just that they always make comments about my personal life, especially with the people I choose to be with."

"Yeah, well, those people's lives are so miserable that they have nothing better to do than try to ruin ours," he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing.

You glance down at your lap, your hands fidgeting as you gather your thoughts, when Charles interrupts, taking your hand. "Hey, I know it sucks, but I think it's something that comes with success. It bothers me too when they do that to me. Look, I won't pretend to fully understand what you're going through because I know I don't."

You look up at him, puzzled. "Do you remember earlier at the party when you arrived before me? When your car pulled up at the restaurant, they went crazy. Now, I've been in front of cameras since I was a kid, and I know a thing or two about paparazzi, but I've never seen fame like yours before. They were taking so many pictures of you that it didn't even look like flashes anymore, it’s like someone had switched on a blinding light for those few seconds you walked from your car to the door."

"I couldn't really see you because of the crowd, but when I heard them shouting your name, it just made sense. Don't tell the engaged couple, but I'm 100% sure you were the best thing at the party. " he winks at you. "But still, that doesn't make it okay. The reason they act like that is because they are taking advantage of your popularity. They think that getting a good picture of you, or a story, out of you or even something they made up, is big money.”

You’ve thought of this before, the way they treat you is different from other celebrities, but you hesitated to bring them up, fearing it would make you appear arrogant. It was a nice change to discuss about your life, popularity and the challenges that come with it, and to be met with Charles' honest and genuine response. You look back at the times you talked about this with a partner, and how they dismissed your concerns, labeling you as ungrateful, overreacting, or even a drama queen. The contrast in reactions causes you to appreciate Charles' maturity, understanding and support.

Despite your seemingly different lives, his centered around sports, yours with music, your personalities and passion for your respective crafts and families made you remarkably similar. With every word exchanged, the infatuation between you grew stronger.

So, at 4 am, while leaning against the balcony of your hotel room, a comfortable silence settled between you.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve never experienced this before.” Charles says softly. “Staying up at this hour and talking about my life and the shit I go through to a girl I’ve only met for 8 hours now. It makes me feel like I want to tell you my whole life. It feels…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“I get what you mean. I never thought we would have a lot in common, especially since from the outside, it looks like we’re living different lives. But it looks like we're not so different after all.”

“Y/N, I know it’s too soon because we’ve only just met but I really want to get to know you better.” He faces you and draws himself closer. His green eyes pierce your Y/E/C eyes, he smiles genuinely at you.

As you gaze at him, your heartbeat quickens. You can’t tell if this is real life because you’re experiencing emotions you’ve never felt before. Here stands a guy who is caring, grounded, and by the way, absolutely gorgeous, and he is genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your thoughts waver back and forth, questioning whether this is okay. Is it cool that I’ve shared everything in my mind with him? Is it chill that he’s in my head?

Your mind and heart go into battle. Think! After all, you've only known this person for eight hours! Eight hours, Y/N! On the other hand, what if this is actually okay? Could this be the story of you meeting "the one"? Or your soulmate?

You tried to find a compromise.

Blushing, you gazed up at him and agreed, “I feel the same way. But can we take it slow? I never like to rush things, especially relationships.”

He nods and hugs you from behind. “Is this alright?”

You hummed and you both stayed there, watching the stars and the beautiful view of Florence.

You didn’t want the night to end, and you couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to him right now. So you tried to make up excuses for him to stay. “But, you know, it’s too dangerous to drive at this hour.”

“Cheri, there is no such as thing as a time that is too dangerous to drive.” He chuckles at your cuteness. “Plus, I’m a Formula One driver, I think I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t because we just finished doing shots like three hours ago! And what if other drunk people are driving around too?”

Charles lightly laughs at your stubbornness. He knows you’re too prideful to just tell him to stay the night, especially after you both agreed to keep things slow. He sees you avoiding his gaze, so he addresses you, “Y/N.”

As you looked up, he smiled at you and gently holds your chin and locking eyes. "Je suis folle de toi.” he uttered.

Confused, you smiled in anticipation, knowing he had likely said something sweet. Seconds later, he translated himself, the proximity between your faces nearly undoing you. "I am crazy about you.”

...

Carefully locating your phone, you closed the bedroom door behind you. Retrieving two water bottles from the mini fridge in the kitchen, you settled on the couch in the living room of your hotel suite, resting your legs on the coffee table.

You check your messages and there were some from Kika, and your management team. Kika texted you and said to meet her for brunch at 11. Though, with a Monegasque driver in your bed, you don’t know when you can leave, so you move on to the other conversations, keeping in mind that you reply to her soon.

Your management team’s group chats were asking where you are and who you were hanging with. You read their earlier messages and saw that there are articles and pictures of you and Charles leaving the party last night. You open your Twitter account and see the two of you are trending. Of course, we are.

You scrolled through the tweets and some fans were happy, some were not, some just... don't have any opinion. And you prefer the latter. Reading the tweets of the fans was one thing, but the way the media and articles talked about you was different. It's like they didn't have respect you.

The articles get to you, Why is there so much scrutiny around my dating life? They called you a serial dater, manipulator, etc., even creating "warnings" about you for Charles; saying you're just gonna break his heart and write a song about him.

You furrow your brow, wondering why they single you out like this and why other women aren't subjected to the same level of scrutiny. It's frustrating because they never say these things about other people, especially men in the industry who engage in similar dating behaviors. Your male friends in the industry can date different people or even cheat and sing about it without raising any eyebrows. But when it comes to you, the accusations fly.

When they accuse you of "jumping" from one relationship to another, they label you a player or claim you cheated. If you choose to casually date without exclusivity, they call you a slut. It never ends. Where do they expect me to stand? When will it all just stop?

You start to question whether the people you want to be with have seen what has been written about you and if your reputation, which may be based on something fake, can affect the real connections you might make. You begin to ponder the significance of it all and how much weight a reputation actually carries.

It's unfair. Your personal life should be yours alone, and people should mind their own business. If this is the price you pay for sharing your music and being famous, you want no part of it anymore. It feels like they don't respect you as a human being.

Hot tears stream down your face as your thoughts consume you, overwhelming you completely. Seeking solace, you sink from the couch to the floor, resting your chin on your knees. It's a familiar position, offering some comfort when you're feeling low. The grounding sensation reminds you that you're still here.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles already woke up and was also reading messages from his team. He was about to greet you when he heard you sniffling. He slowly opens the door and sees you on the ground, knees to your chest, crying. Suddenly, he understands the pain you're going through. He felt awkward. He didn't know whether to comfort you or pretend to go back to bed.

But Charles can't resist the sight of your shattered state. He pushes the door open fully and gazes at you, broken and vulnerable. His heart shatters alongside yours. Slowly, he approaches and sits in front of you, taking in the magnitude of your pain. You're startled, having forgotten he was sleeping in the other room. You wonder if he knows what you're crying about, if he's seen the internet already, but the thought pushed back behind your head when a pair of warm, gentle hands cups your face, thumbs trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong, mon ange?" he asks softly.

"Everything. The things they say about me... they're so mean. They're ruining my name, my reputation..." You manage to utter between sobs.

"Shh.. I know, cheri. But I don't care about what they write, alright? I want to know you. The real you." He comforts you. Running his hand up and down your arm as you find solace in his comforting embrace.

For the next ten minutes, you pour your heart out to him, releasing your pent-up emotions. When Charles senses that you had calmed down, he fetches the water bottle from the table and hands it to you. You finish it in one go.

"Feeling a little better now?" He offers, his considerate nature shining through. You smile and nod, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asks, showing his concern for your well-being. You shake your head for a no.

“Do you feel like going downstairs, or should we order room service?" Going for a walk would be refreshing, and it might help improve your mood, but given that you've just bared your soul to him, you don't feel like going out. More importantly, you remember that you'll encounter numerous people and potentially face unwanted attention when you're seen again with Charles.

"We? You don't have to stay here with me. I feel better already." You face him, pulling away from his embrace. You instantly regret it as you start to feel cold already, missing the warmth of his body against yours.

"And I'm not leaving until you feel your best again. So, restaurant or room service?" He asks again. God, he is even more hot when he's stern... and caring about my well-being, of course.

Considering your current state, you prefer the comfort of staying within the confined space of your room, cuddled up next to him. "Room service, please."

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

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nouearth · 1 month

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SHIT 😭😭😭 i have way too much chris evans in my mind rn im just gonna vomit everything i've been thinking

1960's/1970's!steve rogers

him getting into the counterculture movement, getting the typical long hippie haircut, going on pride parades and shit even when he and reader are well into their 50's 💀 (or even 60's idk i forgot when this man was born)

college professor!chris

you guys meet at a random talk, convention or public assembly thingy, he tries to be all professional and just let it be platonic but reader's ass leaving him every time just gets him up in his feels

football player!chris

he might be the star athlete of the world's greatest team but he makes reader feel like the real star, he's a hotshot but never EVER leaves his baby in second place

(sorry for taking over ive just been reading some enchanted evenings over and over bc of how perfect it is and i can't stop thinking of scenarios with this GOD-MARBLED MAN!!!)

💌 : wait wait this is perfect, let me join in because this makes me so soft but also so horny. (also i'm very happy you like some enchanted evenings! :^) i'm in that era where i feel like my works suck SOOOOO, THANK YOU!)

neighbor!chris he's not one to mingle much on his free days, he does enough of that at work. but when chris notices the attractive man moving into the house across from him, he figures turning over a new leaf could do him some good, and that starts with giving your sweaty body a much needed relief.

ceo!chris high-strung and a ticking time bomb, your douche-bag of a boss has been on your ass every second of the day since his divorce. protein shakes aren't green enough, window blinds aren't dusted enough, your dress shirt isn't ironed enough. as his assistant, it was exhausting being demanded from one place to another more than usual. and as his assistant, you knew chris more than you knew yourself, from his allergies to his kinks, and you knew exactly what can finally get him off your back (or rather... on your back?)

overworked husband!chris / detective!chris it hasn't been a great couple of months for chris. the murder case he's been assigned to was showing no signs of slowing with another family violently slaughtered within near vicinity, taunting him with the serial killer's nihilistic symbol. the image of mangled bodies haunts him in his sleep, a mother's lament keeps him awake, and the relief of coming home to you and the kids, tucked in and safely sleeping in one bed fortifies his sanity for a little longer.

and i'm also cackling because i feel like we sound like tyra banks when she was interviewing beyonce. 😭

BUY-YONCÉ, when was the last you bought anything from a store? SEANCE-CÉ, if you could communicate with anybody that has passed away-BRIE-ONCÉ, what's your favorite type of cheese?

#✰ : nou.asks

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elisysd · 1 year

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Superman

Cruel Summer Masterlist

Julia tries karting for the first time

I wonder if he knows how much that I miss him

For her eight year old birthday, Charles had decided to organise a father -daughter day. And what was better than bonding over something they both loved: cars. Charles planned to take her karting for the first time. And not in any karting, the one his dad brought him to. He was so happy to share that moment with Julia. She didn’t know where he was taking her and was asking questions during the whole journey toward Brignoles. When finally they were there she was in awe. To make sure they wouldn’t be bothered Charles had asked to privatise the place. He wanted to give his daughter the best experience possible.

Inside, he helped Julia put on a racing suit and choose her helmet. And then they wen to see the kart she was going to spend a few hours on. She was a bit apprehensive but once her dad explained to her everything that would be going on and what she had to do, she felt a bit more at ease. Charles didn’t forget to snap pictures and to send them to Lya who, he knew, was probably biting her nails from anxiety.

“Dad? Is it normal that I can’t really breathe with this thing?”

“That’s because you are stressed out, Ju’. Take a deep breath and it will all be okay, I promise. You have the right to be scared but you can’t let the fear control you.” explained Charles.

“I’m not scared! If Ethan can do it, I know I can. And better.”

Ethan had started karting two years ago. And he was pretty good. But could it be anything else with Max as his father? He was passionate and had already one a few races against bigger kids that were more experienced than him. Charles knew that if he wanted to pursue this hobby as professional, he could make it. He smiled at his daughter. He couldn’t see her eyes but he knew they were determined. She might have had Charles’ eyes colour, but the fiery gaze definitely came from Lyanna.

“I have no doubt that you can, princess.”

She gave him a nod and came near the kart. Charles helped her getting in and adjusted everything so she was at ease. And then, off she was. It took her ten laps to get a hold of the kart and then she was starting to set pretty decent lap times for her first time. It was far from perfect but she had abilities to the point that Charles thought that if she was training really hard she could get somewhere. After a few more laps, she came back and Charles was starting to get ready as well.

“Ready to race, Ju’?” he asked her as they were on the starting line.

“Born ready, dad!”

It was not because she was his daughter that Charles going to take it easy on her. On the contrary. He pushed and pushed more and more after each laps to the point that he was almost one lap ahead of his daughter. But Julia was not bothered, she kept on going harder just to prove that she could do it. It lasted the whole afternoon and when they got out of the kart, she had a bright smile on her face and sweat pearling on her forehead.

“So what did you think? Did you like it?” asked Charles.

“Yeah, it was fun. But can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“Driving is not for me. I prefer to learn how they make the car than driving it… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be Julia. It’s not because you are my daughter that you have to love karting.”

He kissed her forehead before helping her remove the race suit. As Julia’s gaze lingered on the walls she couldn’t help but notice pictures of her dad. One in particular attracted her.

“Dad? Is that you?”

Charles followed her finger pointing at a picture of him. He had his Justin Bieber haircut on him and he couldn’t help but think about what had gone wrong in his head to think at some point that this haircut was a good idea.

“It was long time ago, but yes. That’s me.”

“Do you think mom would say yes if I was asking her to cut my hair like that? It’s so cool.”

“I don’t know, princess. You’ll have to ask her later.”

On their way back, Julia couldn’t stop asking questions about the time when her dad was karting and Charles was happy to share anecdotes after anecdotes seeing that it was making her laugh. Before going home they stopped in a coffee shop for waffles. Julia couldn’t remember the last time she had her dad for her only. Since he was always away, an alone time father-daughter was rare. An hour later they parked in the driveway and before Charles could leave the car, Julia stopped him.

“Thank you, daddy. It was the best birthday ever.”

“Thank you Ju’. For being the best daughter I could ever asked for.”

“I’m your only daughter, so…”

“You spend too much time with uncle Arthur, you’re becoming sassy.”

She shrugged before getting out of the car and ran to her mom to try to persuade her to let her have the same haircut that her dad had when he was young. Lyanna was horrified and as soon as Charles put a foot in the kitchen she asked him how her beloved daughter got this idea.

“It’s fine, love. At least, someone acknowledges my fashion choices and loves them. See, I was ahead of my time.”

“Charles, she is 8 years old, she doesn’t know a single thing about fashion!”

“You are just jealous, Mrs Michel-Leclerc!” Charles teased her, making Julia giggle as she was witnessing the scene.

“Jealous of what? Of you?”

“Of my amazing sense of fashion.”

“Don’t make me laugh. I have pictures that state otherwise!”

Charles laughed before taking his wife in his arms and kissing her slowly.

“Ew!” They heard Julia say.

Lyanna smiled in the kiss as Charles was taking this as an opportunity to annoy his daughter a bit more. He pressed Lyanna’s body harder against him and deepened the kiss. He only stopped when he heard his daughter stomping in the stairs, a sign she had left the room.

“So should I brace myself to see both my daughter and my husband have risky weekends or is it fine?”

“She loved our day. But if I’m being honest I think she loved it because she spent it with me not because of the karting.”

Lyanna knew how hard it was for Charles to be away from his family. Not seeing Julia grow up as much as he would like made him feel guilty sometimes. So when he asked Lyanna if she was okay with the idea of him taking their daughter away from her birthday, she didn’t refuse. She couldn’t. And seeing the look on her daughter’s face when she learned that her dad was all hers for the day was definitely worth it.

They spent the rest of the day watching movies and ended up with the one Lyanna had shot in Monaco a few years ago. When Julia learned the importance of the movie in her parents love story she had insisted on watching it.

“Mom you were so beautiful.”

“Were? Are you saying it’s not the case anymore?” she teased Julia as she took her in her arms to ruffle her hair.

“You are the most beautiful mommy in the world! Right, daddy?”

“Yes, princess. You’re right. Your mom is most beautiful woman in my world.”

=========

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slyvester101 · 2 months

Text

The first time Tucker offers to cut his hair, Wash honestly thinks he’s joking.

It’s not a secret that Tucker isn’t the fondest of Wash, what with him being part of the reason his friend is gone, so it’s a surprise Tucker would offer to do something so… helpful.

But Tucker is genuine about it. He’s seen how Wash cuts his own hair, choppy and uneven and poorly taken care of and it pains him to watch. Especially since Tucker has been doing his own hair as well as the sim troopers hair for years.

So Tucker sits Wash down in his salon chair and decides to give him the works.

Wash was hesitant at first, he hadn’t let anyone get close enough to even touch his head, let alone let them wave around sharp objects by it, but here he was, sitting in a chair with his head tipped back into the sink as Tucker washes his hair. He damn near falls asleep from the treatment, Tucker’s hands are gentle but firm as they scrub his hair with nice smelling shampoo and conditioner, making Wash’s hair feather soft and looking more healthy and shiny than it had ever been.

“You good there dude?” Wash simply hums in response and unconsciously leans further in the hands untangling his locks. It feels so good. Wash didn’t know a person could feel like this.

After his hair is cleaned and detangled, Tucker begins the actual haircutting part of this impromptu hair care session. There’s a little bit of talk over what Wash would like for his hair, but since Tucker is the designated hairstylist for the canyon, Wash lets him go wild with whatever he thinks would be best.

“I trust you.” He’d said without an ounce of doubt. Tucker may have his reservations about Wash, and for good reason too, but the man saved Wash when he didn’t have to, gave him a home and a team and a purpose that had all been taken from him. Tucker could’ve let him die, should’ve let him die, but he didn’t. And Washington will spend the rest of his life laying that debt back.

Tucker had given him a wide eyed look, but didn’t say anything more as he began to snip away at Wash’s hair. It ends up a little shorter than Tucker would like but Wash’s hair is so uneven that there aren’t many options for a good haircut. At the very least, it’s better than what Wash had before. He finishes it off with by massaging a hair mask in, hopefully helping Wash’s hair recovery from the neglect it’s received over the years.

Tucker steps back and admires his work before giving Wash a nudge to do the same. “So, what do you think?”

Wash opens his eyes, a little sleepy from all the soft touches and soothing motions of his haircut. He’s surprised by what he sees, not quite recognizing himself in the mirror.

It’s not all that different from what he usually does with his hair, just done a bit more professionally with a bit more intention behind each cut and buzz. But his eyes are also lacking the heavy eye bags he’s grown used to seeing, his face looks healthy and fed and clean, he looks like a person rather than a hollow shell he was as Recovery One. All together, he looks well rested and almost content.

He look like himself.

“I think it suits me.” He says with a small smile, admiring himself in the mirror in a way he hasn’t done since before he joined Project Freelancer. He turns his head back and forth, really giving himself the chance to look over Tucker’s clean cut, before he looks back at Tucker and honest to god grins. “Thank you, Tucker.”

Tucker is also taken aback by how soft Wash looks. His face had been painfully neutral the whole time they’ve been at Valhalla, but right now, with a smile gracing his lips and contentment relaxing his normally stiff posture, Tucker would dare to call him beautiful.

Wait, what?

“No uh, No problem, man.” Tucker chokes out, turning his face away to hide the blush creeping up his face. He eventually coughs up an excuse to leave the room, suddenly very aware of how pretty Wash is and how close he’d been standing to him the whole time.

He leaves Wash to sit in awe of this new side of him, one he hadn’t seen since before Epsilon. Wash stares at himself in the mirror and smiles again.

It feels nice to be happy about something for once.

#rvb #red vs blue #lavernius tucker #rvb tucker #agent washington #rvb wash #tuckington #writing #hairdresser tucker is best tucker #cutting hair is how tucker shows his affection to the other reds and blues #change my mind #oh wait you can’t

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denimbex1986 · 10 months

Text

'Saving Kylie Minogue from a bridge was not in Colum Sanson-Regan's plans when he turned up as a Doctor Who extra.

But David Tennant was not around, so someone had to do it, and producers thought Colum looked like the doctor.

"I've saved Kylie, flown the Tardis, held the screwdriver and had Billie Piper look deep into my eyes and tell me how much she loved me," joked Colum.

"I asked the producer 'Why am I putting on the doctor's suit? They replied 'Well, David Tennant isn't in'.

Now a father of two, Colum was earning some extra cash before his first child was born.

"I didn't know what was going on," recalled Colum of when he arrived on the set but was ushered past the "cold bus" where the extras usually hang around and was shown to a posh trailer.

The 10th Doctor had to leave the set for the 2007 Christmas special Voyage of the Damned, and producers needed a Tennant-alike for some extra shots showing his back.

So they improvised and Colum, then 31, stepped in to the suit synonymous with the Doctor since the world's longest running sci-fi TV show rebooted on the BBC in 2005.

Colum, now 46, had been asked by producers to be on set early but he had no inkling that his time (lord) had come.

"All of a sudden I was standing with the suit there, and I was handed a script and told 'You're gonna need this'," recalled Colum. "I was thinking pinch me, what's going on?

"Then I went for a haircut and a little Australian lady passed me dressed in a French maid outfit and said hello. I did a double take and realised I was there with Kylie Minogue."

The Australian singer and actor was a Doctor Who superfan and had asked for a part, which was humanoid waitress Astrid Peth, a one-off companion of the doctor.

"I was a bit star struck, for sure," he admitted.

His first work in Voyage of the Damned - where a starship replica of the Titanic is on collision course with Earth - was an action-packed scene where killer robot angels launched a deadly attack.

"There was a bridge, and the killer robot angels were trying to shoot, so I had to stop Kylie from falling over," recalled Colum.

"I had to hang on to her and pull her back from a precipice. That was the first thing I had to do in the morning."

The author and musician had a gig with his band that weekend in Leicester. As Kylie almost sang, he couldn't get it out of his head that he had worked with her - and we should all be so lucky.

"We got in the car and I said to my bandmates, guess who I've been working with this week?" said Colum, who lives near Cardiff.

"We'd been driving for almost two hours and had nearly hit Birmingham and they still hadn't guessed. I had to tell them! They're like 'absolutely no way'. It was so bizarre."

To Colum's pleasant surprise, producers were so happy with his work and lookalike skills, they asked him to play the Doctor again in the 2008 episode Journey's End - this time as his clone in the final episode of the fourth series.

That meant he had to be in the same scenes with Tennant, Billie Piper, John Barrowman and Catherine Tate, making her final appearance as a regular.

"I got to fly the Tardis in Journey's End," recalled Colum, who is originally from the Republic of Ireland.

"Everybody was gathered around the central console of the Tardis. We all had to have our hands on the machine and flying controls. Everybody was on that episode. There was a real buzz.

"I got to hold the screwdriver - they were very protective and kept taking it off me."

Colum was then involved in an emotional scene where Rose Tyler, played by Piper, had to say her final goodbyes to the doctor.

"It was an amazing and surreal experience.

"The nicest thing I have to take away was getting to work near David Tennant. I loved it. He was a thoroughly lovely, lovely guy and so professional. I think that was my favourite thing about the whole crazy time."

This weekend sees Tennant and Tate back together for Doctor Who, reprising their roles as the Doctor and Donna Noble in The Star Beast on BBC One on Saturday evening - but Colum will be back on his sofa with his family at home.

Husband to Kerry, singer and guitarist of band Goose, a creative writing lecturer and author of books like The Fly Guy, The Tall Owl and Other Stories, Colum has limited time for more extra work - especially after having his own trailer as the doctor's double.

"I'm looking forward to the show on Saturday with the return of some fantastic actors," added Colum.

"As a fan, working on the show was incredible and it's only strengthened my love for Doctor Who."'

#Doctor Who #Voyage of the Damned #60th Anniversary #Kylie Minogue #David Tennant #Billie Piper #Rose Tyler #Journey's End #Colum Sanson-Regan #Astrid Peth #John Barrowman #Jack Harkness #Catherine Tate #Donna Noble #The Fly Guy #The Tall Owl and Other Stories

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daydream-cement · 1 year

Text

Haircuts in the Bathroom

Brienne of Tarth x Miranda Hilmarson

Three months into Brienne living in Miranda's timeline, Miranda offers to give the knight a haircut - fluff ensues.

Author's Note: Written in collaboration with @bri-sonat. this fic is SO SWEET MY HEART MAY GIVE OUT

“It’s getting a little shaggy…” Miranda mumbled under her breath as her hands combed through Brienne’s hair. She had been standing over Brienne’s shoulder, watching her navigate her laptop to get signed up for her second round of police training when temptation got the best of her. The constable’s nails gently worked against the knight’s scalp, Miranda humming in appreciation for Brienne allowing her the moment of intimacy.

Physical touch was a slow-building part of their relationship. Three months ago, Brienne had made the ultimate decision to give up her life in Westeros to be with Miranda. The relationship since then had been slow-moving, easing the Lord Commander into the modern world and her first relationship through baby steps. First, it was holding hands and the occasional peck on the cheek, and more recently, Miranda had grown so bold as to now play with Brienne’s hair and place soft kisses on Brienne’s lips in greeting or when they parted ways.

In the three months that Brienne had been living in modern times, she had spent the first couple weeks learning how the invention known as technology worked and the new customs she had to adjust to. All of this at the same time as she developed a romantic companionship with Miranda and got through the first part of the academy. All this meant she was pretty busy, so she hadn’t found the time to get a haircut. “It’s been a while… last time was probably a few weeks before our joint stay in Lucifer’s house. I’ll get it cut soon.”

“Want me to cut it?” The constable perked up, fingers massaging deeper into Brienne’s scalp, hoping the gesture could be used to convince the knight to have her hair cut then and there.

Brienne stopped her hand midway through a swipe on the touchpad, turning around in her chair to look at Miranda. “You want to cut my hair?” The knight was silent as she considered the pros of having the constable cut her hair and eventually started thinking out loud in a mumble. “It would save me some money… and I wouldn’t need to find free time to do it.” The Lord Commander then realized that she hadn’t even asked the Aussie the most important thing so she spoke clearer when voicing her following words. “Wait- Do you even know how to cut hair?”

“How hard could it be? I mean- I used to cut my friends’ hair during university and it would always turn out okay.” Miranda gave a shrug, teasing her hand out of Brienne’s hair to rest her hand on her hip. Her head tilted to the side as she smiled down at the knight, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as she realized she wasn’t selling her abilities as a hairdresser, “It’s only a trim. Right, Bri?”

The knight only stared up at Miranda with narrowed eyes, her worries not put to rest by the constable’s answer. Brienne wasn’t all that keen on letting the Aussie near her hair with sharp scissors when she was still making first impressions at the academy. She didn’t want to give her fellow cadets another thing to make fun of her for. “You are not soothing my concerns… I’d rather pay a professional to cut it for me than end up with an uneven cut… No offense.”

“I’ll just give you a light trim. I promise I know what I’m doing. Plus, it’ll be better than your hair falling into your eyes all the time.” Miranda’s hand dove back into Brienne’s hair, gently tugging on the locks as she pulled them upwards, displaying how long the knight’s hair truly was. After a few moments of messing with the Westerosi woman’s hair, the constable fell back into gently massaging Brienne’s scalp, “I promise I’m not gonna make you look ridiculous.”

The knight sighed and closed her eyes momentarily before looking at Miranda with a defeated look. “Fine. But if you muck up, you’re paying for my emergency visit to the hairdresser. Allow me to conclude this and then I am all yours.” Brienne turned back to the computer screen and enjoyed the scalp massage as she resumed dragging her finger over the touchpad to continue her training.

“I’ll get the bathroom all ready for you, my knight.” Miranda finished threading her fingers through Brienne’s hair to press a kiss to the Lord Commander’s hairline.

The constable was almost giddy as she made her way to the knight’s bathroom, excited Brienne would trust her with something as important as this. Shifting about the bathroom, Miranda collected the supplies she may need, leaving them on the bathroom counter before slipping from the bathroom to steal one of the dining room chairs for Brienne to sit on while she was getting her haircut.

Whilst Miranda was away setting up, Brienne finished up her business before closing the lid on the constable’s laptop and moving to the bathroom where the Aussie had opened up shop. When she entered the room, she sat down in the chair and made eye contact with the cop in the mirror. “I just need a trim. That’s it.”

Miranda took her place behind Brienne, both of her hands combing into the knight’s hair, using the leverage to gently tilt her head side to side, “Just a trim. You got it, BriBri. Are you okay if I wash your hair first to make it easier to cut?”

Brienne rose her eyebrows at Miranda at the new nickname. “BriBri? That is new…,” she mumbled. “Whatever you need to do.” The knight gazed intently at the constable in the mirror as the Aussie studied the short blonde curls. The Westerosi woman always found the Aussie to be cute, but even more so when she was focused and determined in a task.

“We’ll just turn the chair around and I’ll give it a quick wash in the sink. You will get the full Hilmarson Salon experience.” The constable giggled at her own joke, taking a step back to allow Brienne to maneuver the chair around so her back was facing the sink. With a gentle hand on the knight’s shoulder, Miranda gave a slight push to guide the woman’s head under the faucet. “I like the nickname Bribri. It’s cute… But I won’t use it if you prefer I don’t…” The Aussie began running the water over Brienne’s hair, slowly at first to adjust the temperature so it wasn’t scalding or chilled.

Brienne used the position she was in to observe the woman washing her hair. She found the activity to be strangely comforting and she really couldn’t stop her eyes from closing. “It’s okay. You can use it if you wish. I have no qualms about it. I have referred to you as MirMir in the past, after all.”

The Aussie only hummed in thanks, continuing to wet down the knight’s hair. She combed her fingers through the locks, needing the water to fully permeate for it to be easier to wash. When this was complete, Miranda reached out for the shampoo she had retrieved earlier, squeezing a small amount into her palm to begin massaging into Brienne’s scalp. The constable had gone quiet, focus overtaking her as she didn’t want to mess up any of the following steps lest Brienne not want her to wash or cut her hair again.

The knight took full advantage of the constable’s determined state. She fought to open her eyes and scanned Miranda’s face. She appreciated every feature painted across the woman’s focused face. Like the small line that formed between the Aussie’s brows as she drew them together. The way her tongue peeked out and curled up to rest on the cop’s upper lip. Brienne found it incredibly endearing that Miranda took the task so seriously considering her usual approach and personality.

The constable took to rinsing out the shampoo, weaving her fingers through the long locks to squeeze out all of the suds. Unbeknownst to her, a smile began growing on Miranda’s face. There was no doubt that the Aussie loved physical touch, leading her heart to swell from the love she was able to show Brienne. She continued to repeat her actions until her knight’s hair was free of any lingering shampoo, turning off the water when she was finished. Leaning over the Westerosi woman, the constable grabbed for a towel on the shelf, laying it over Brienne’s hair for it to be dried.

Brienne took the towel as a sign that the washing part was done so she sat up, and started ruffling her hair with the towel to dry the locks. When she was done she looked at Miranda, her hair damp and messy, pointing in every which direction as hair usually did when wildly dried with a towel. “I got a new hair wash. Do you like it?”

Giggling, Miranda ran a hand through Brienne’s hair, combing down all the wild spots. Her gaze was soft and admiring: filled with love. With the way the constable was looking at the Westerosi woman, it almost made her forget about the knight’s question, “I- Uhm- Yeah, I really like it. It smells wonderful.�� Her eyes locked onto Brienne’s for only a fraction of a second, “Do you want to comb your hair or should I?”

“Thank you. It’s supposed to smell like freshly cut grass… I quite like it. It reminds me of my travels in Westeros.” Brienne turned the chair around so she faced the mirror and smiled softly at Miranda. “You said that you’d give me the full Hilmarson Salon experience. So whatever is included in that is what I wish. Please.”

Wordlessly, Miranda focused up, swiping the comb from the countertop and moving behind the knight to begin detangling. It wasn’t often the constable fell silent, but the rhythmic motions of pulling the comb through Brienne’s hair were nearly hypnotic. As the Aussie spaced out, she gently pulled loose all the knots and brushed it back the way exactly the way Brienne liked to wear it.

The knight didn’t disturb Miranda in her task and only sat in appreciative silence as the constable worked on the short hair. She allowed herself quick glances at the focused face in the mirror - glances at the line on the cop’s bridge and the tip of her tongue on her upper lip - before looking away and finding something else to keep her eyes on until she eventually found her gaze slipping to the mirror once again and the Aussie’s face.

As the comb was pulled through the knight’s hair a final few times, Miranda spoke up, voicing her absentminded questions, “Have you always worn your hair short?” From Brienne’s side, Miranda glanced up in the mirror to make eye contact as she leaned forward to grab the scissors. The Aussie dropped away her eye contact when she combed through Brienne’s hair a few more times, psyching herself up to start cutting.

The sudden question caught Brienne off-guard and she remained silent for a few seconds to collect her thoughts. “No. I had long hair when I was a child and lived as a Lady. My father wished for me to have it that way. When he realized that I had no interest in living a life as some Lord’s wife and wished to fight, he allowed me to cut it off at my request. It’s hard and impractical to have long hair as a warrior. It also gives your opponent the ability to grab it and pull, which can be a dangerous advantage.”

“I’m trying to picture you with long hair and a dress… I have a decent imagination, but I really can’t see it.” Combing a section of damp hair, Miranda glanced back up at Brienne in the mirror, allowing the knight to see the scissors creeping closer. She wasn’t going to start snipping away until the Westerosi woman gave her the final go-ahead. “Are you ready? There is no chickening out once I start cutting.”

“It was truly a sight to behold. Freakishly tall girl with long hair and a dress that was taller than the tailor who made it. I have only worn one dress since leaving Tarth, and even that would be difficult to imagine. I had short hair at that time though, so it is quite possible to picture.” Brienne got comfortable in her chair as she spoke, the times of being expected to wear a dress long gone to her relief. Before she answered Miranda’s query, she nodded. “I’m ready. If I am one thing, it’s committed. I trust you.”

Miranda started with small amounts of hair at first, only trimming a few millimeters off the ends. She knew she could always return and snip off a bit more later. To calm her nerves, she began chattering away, reminiscing on her own changes in self-expression over the years, “I used to wear my hair longer… and I wore dresses. I was so boy crazy… especially in college. I’m sure my mother will tell you, but I swear I was bringing home a new boy every few months. Tragic…” The constable tried keeping her thoughts lighthearted, not wanting her past to seem more embarrassing than it was.

“I can imagine you in a dress… not with long hair, though.” Brienne went quiet as she conjured up an image in her mind of Miranda in a dress. She tried the same with the constable with long hair and failed. “I can only imagine the need to somehow convince yourself that you are into men. I have only been ‘boy crazy’ for one man. He was into men so it ended up being more platonic, but I loved him.” The knight gave her own experience when it came to trailing after men, choosing to reveal more of her previous life to the Aussie - most of it unknown to the constable.

“He must have been a truly wonderful person to earn your love,” Miranda murmured, her voice going soft at how Brienne spoke of him in the past tense. She chose not to prod for more information, figuring the knight would share what was most comfortable for her when she was ready. The constable enjoyed listening to Brienne speak as she slowly cut away more hair from a new section of hair, repeating the process over and over again.

“He truly was.” Brienne smiled fondly as she thought back to how Renly had saved her at the ball, and how he treated her with nothing but respect. “Renly was… different than any man I have ever met. It’s easy to love someone when they offer you the decency and courtesy you were never given. The way he regarded me was unlike anything I had ever encountered. Not once did he mock or belittle me… he actually strengthened me. I’ll forever be grateful for him and what he did for me.”

“It makes me happy to hear he loved you the way you deserve, Bri...” Not often did Brienne speak of her former life so pleasantly. The discussion made the constable’s heart yearn, wishing she could have had the honor of meeting someone that the knight held in such high regard. Miranda began shifting around Brienne, slowly moving to her right side to make sure the haircut would be even on all sides. “Sometimes I wish I could see you in your own time... but then you tell me things about it and I- Well, I assume I wouldn’t fit in very well, would I?”

Brienne chuckled softly. “I have no clue if he loved me back… even as a friend. But I loved him.” She gazed at Miranda in the mirror, watching as her hand and fingers moved, catching a glimpse of shining steel every now and then. “It was definitely more strict about roles. I didn’t fit in either, I beat my own path and I can only imagine that you would do the same.” The knight trailed off before attempting a continuation that was out of her comfort zone. “Then again, I could see you as the Lady that would rewrite beauty standards and become the most desirable woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms. The Lady that I would swear my sword to… and eventually fall head over heels for. I have no doubt in my mind that no matter the time, we would find each other somehow and I would always end up yearning for you.”

Miranda smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes in disbelief, not allowing herself to internalize any of Brienne’s compliments no matter how good they felt. “Most desirable woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms? For someone who claims little experience dating, you certainly always know what to say.” The constable chose to tease the knight as her own way of deflecting away from any compliments, “I’m sure the great Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth would have her pick of any beautiful maidens, hmm? I doubt a freakishly tall girl would have caught your eye.” The Aussie chose to tease using some of Brienne’s words from earlier, knowing they applied to herself as well.

Brienne smirked - amused by Miranda’s words. “It is simply the truth. And even if that were the truth, if people weren’t disgusted by my mere presence, I would and will always choose you. Your height makes you stick out in a crowd, making you different and unique, and that would absolutely catch my eye, and you’d never get rid of it. It is glued on you forever, sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“Oh? Is that why you have been staring at me so much while I’ve been doing this?” The Aussie dropped away the lock of hair, turning her gaze down to the knight. Miranda’s hand lifted to Brienne’s shoulder, brushing away the trimmings of hair to the floor to be swept up later. While the constable knew this teasing might make the Westerosi woman embarrassed, Miranda couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease her knight.

As if on cue, Brienne’s eyes widened and a blush crept up on her cheeks when she realized she had been caught in her - what she thought to be - discreet observation. She truly thought she had gotten away with it, that she had been subtle enough for Miranda not to notice. But it seemed that the constable was extremely observant even when deeply submerged in focus. “I have no clue what you are referring to. I have simply been speculating the work of my hairdresser.”

“Hmm... I was thinking someone had a bit of a crush. I must have been mistaken.” Miranda curled around the front of Brienne placing her leg between the knight’s knees so she could stand close as she combed back Brienne’s hair. The constable took the Westerosi woman’s chin in her hand, moving the night’s head about to see what she could have missed so far. “What do you think so far? Is your hairdresser doing adequate work?”

“You are sorely mistaken I’m afraid. It is more than a crush. But I’m sure you knew that.” With Miranda’s new position, Brienne was keeping her eyes locked on the constable’s, not allowing her brain to think too much about the intimate arrangement - or the way the Aussie was holding her chin. The knight had to crane her neck to be able to look at the cop’s face, a smile playing on her lips. She was always serious and stern, but she was more daring than usual in her choice of words. “A wonderful job, truly. Ten out of ten. The hairdresser is very attractive as well, so that’s an added bonus. Fantastic service and a pretty person to observe as you get your hair trimmed. Will most definitely recommend and return.”

“I do hope you plan on tipping your hairdresser. It’s only polite.” Miranda wasn’t expecting this level of flirtation from her knight, but she certainly wasn’t about to question it nor was she about to stop her own flirting. The constable released her chin and shifted away from Brienne’s front, moving to the right side of the knight to clean up any longer bits she had missed. She was almost disappointed the haircut was almost over, wishing she could come up with more reasons for the two to stay in the bathroom and keep flirting.

“Of course I do. What kind of customer would I be if I didn’t? A truly terrible one.” Brienne watched Miranda in the mirror as she moved around the knight, checking for any overlooked sections of hair. She found that the venture had been more delightful than she had expected it to be. At the same time that she got to spend quality time with the person she was dating, she also got her hair trimmed. A win-win situation, really. “What would my hairdresser see as a reasonable reimbursement for her time, effort, and skill?”

“I’m not a greedy woman. I find a kiss should be sufficient. What do you think?” The constable felt as if she were teetering on a subject that could make Brienne nervous in a flash, but she continued down the path anyway, knowing a kiss is exactly what she wanted. Leaning forward, Miranda set the scissors and comb down on the bathroom counter. Miranda straightened herself back out, fingers combing through the Westerosi woman’s hair. She couldn’t help herself when she began tilting the knight’s head back and forth, observing her handiwork, “Mighty handsome if I do say so myself.”

“I- I think that can be arranged.” And as quickly as it had arrived, the confidence seemed to almost melt away, returning to the place it had originated from. A place that Brienne was unable to locate. And as always when they discussed things like this, a burning blush spread on the knight’s face as she stared up with wide eyes at the constable. She began arguing Miranda’s compliment but stopped herself when she remembered the outcome of similar conversations: the Aussie woman standing her ground until Brienne agreed with her statement. “I’m not- …Thank you.”

“Do you like it, my knight?” The constable knew they had fallen into the territory of Brienne’s nervousness when the knight’s face turned red, but she couldn’t help when her tone was thick and sweet like honey. Miranda was still enthralled by the flirting and teasing and it was always so hard to reel herself back in once she got going. Her hands continued moving in Brienne’s hair, appreciating how clean-cut the knight looked without her hair falling into her eyes.

Brienne swallowed a thick lump in her throat, completely unaware of what to do in a situation she had fueled with unfounded confidence that had abandoned her in her time of need. She shifted her eyes from looking at Miranda to her newly cut hair and back, repeating it until she answered the query, her shifting gaze stopping on her head. The knight was sure that she’d be unable to hold any type of eye contact with the constable when her voice sounded like it did, the tone making the Lord Commander more nervous than she had ever been. “Yes. I do like it. Thank you… very much.”

Miranda went silent, her eyes watching Brienne’s face with an extreme intensity she quickly gained awareness of. Sending her gaze to the floor, the constable cleared her throat and exhaled a shaky breath, needing to focus on something other than the Westerosi woman before her. The Aussie took notice of the mess she had made on the floor and quickly changed subjects, not wishing to pursue the flirting any longer, “I can clean this up. You can go- I mean, you don’t have to stay in here while I do. You can work on homework or something...”

The knight shook her hair, running her hand through it a few times to get a feel for the new length. “I will clean up.” Brienne smiled at Miranda in the mirror and stood up from her chair so she could be at the same height as the constable, turning around to be face-to-face with the Aussie. “Besides, I have yet to pay. It would be unfair of you to clean all of this up when you have been standing for a while and I have been sitting. You go sit down and I will tidy up. When I am done, I will come and find you and offer you your tip. Unless you’d rather have it now, of course. Then that would be possible as well.”

“I- Uh, I- Now would be good, I think.” The constable’s own face was growing the lightest shade of pink, still not used to Brienne offering her a kiss, even when it was offered through the guise of a tip. Cautiously, Miranda took a step forwards, her hands extending to ghost over the fabric of the knight’s shirt, just over her waist. The Aussie was slow in all her movements, hoping to see Brienne moving towards her as a sign of her own yearning for the kiss.

Brienne brought one of her hands up to rest on Miranda’s cheek, whilst the other one landed on the side of the constable’s neck. She was painfully slow and cautious when she leaned in and placed her lips on the Aussie’s. Their intimacy had yet to progress into extended closeness, so being this close, even if it was only a short kiss, was nerve-wracking. The knight pulled away, licked her lips, and retracted her hands, taking a tiny step back. “I hope that your payment was adequate. I am very grateful.”

Miranda was using all of the self-control in her body to not throw herself against the knight for a longer and deeper kiss. In most of her past relationships, the milestones of most types of physical intimacy were far gone by now. With Brienne, the constable knew slow and steady would win the race, but sometimes, keeping her hands to herself was far harder than she anticipated. The corners of the Aussie’s lips were gently turned upwards into a soft smile, reassuring the knight, “The payment was perfect. I can go wait in the, uhm, living room... Maybe I could introduce you to a new type of food tonight?”

The constable’s words eased the knight’s worries, and she smiled warmly. “Go rest your feet… and once I am done, a new type of food would be lovely.” Brienne stepped away to grab a broom and gently ushered Miranda out of the bathroom so she could start sweeping.

Miranda took one last glance at Brienne upon leaving the bathroom, her eyes soft as she watched her knight clean. While she was somewhat aware of it, the constable had met her perfect match and she was head over heels in love.

#gwendoline christie #gwen christie #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #got #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar (sandman)#the sandman #fanfic #fanfiction #crack fic #the road trip #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #brienne of tarth x miranda hilmarson #bri x mir #crossover

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depressedhatakekakashi · 1 year

Text

Neji refused to take part in his Sensei’s latest competition. If it were something that required giving his Sensei a conpliment, like Tenten, he’d be more than happy to help out.

A hair cut, though. That was never going to happen.

Not only did he refuse to risk the inevitable bowl cut that he was certain his Sensei would end up giving him, but he didn’t want a hair cut at all.

His hair was perfect the way it was. Long, easy to manage, and untouched by any scissors except for small trims every few months.

So, no. He wasn’t going to let his scissor wielding Sensei anywhere near him. Even if he had to spend his entire day running.

“Neji!” Hearing his Sensei’s voice, he darted to the left. “Neji, come on! It’s just a small hair cut!”

There was no time to stop and argue. At the mere mention of a hair cut, Neji was gone. There was very little hope that he’d be able to out run his Sensei, but he had to try.

If only to save his hair from being chopped off into the most horrifying version of a bowl cut her could imsgine

💜💜💜💜

Snip.

“Is this.”

“No.”

Snip.

“Kakashi, I’m pretty sure-“

Flipping the page to his book, Kakashi shrugged his shoulder’s. “He said that the challenge was ‘who can give their student the best haircut’. He didn’t say anything about me having to cut your hair.”

The barber continued her work, ignoring the conversation going on in front of her.

“Is this how you win all of your challenges?”

Kakashi paused, his eyes narrowing as he debated his student’s question. “Only about… thirty-four percent of the time.”

“So-“

Returning his gaze to his book, Kakashi shrugged his shoulder’s. “Still counts as a win.”

Snip.

💜💜💜💜

At times like this, Neji wished he could simply stop existing. Disappear into the voice, never to be seen again.

It would be better than standing in front of both his teammates and all of Team seven, watching them trying desperately to hide their laughter.

If only he’d been able to run a little faster. Then his hair wouldn’t look like an angry bird had gotten at it.

“It looks great,” Gai-Sensei declared, his smile wavering when Neji glared back at him. “Tell him rival,” he jabbed Kakashi-Sensei in the side with his elbow. “Tell him how good it looks.”

Not one to show any empathy, Kakashi-Sensei took one look at Neji from the corner of his eye and snorted. “It could be worse.”

“How?” Neji growled through clenched teeth.

“You could have ended up with a bowl cut.”

Just the mental image was enough to make him shudder.

Stepping forward, Tenten clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Neji. I think you lost.”

“I know I lost.”

“It’s not that bad,” Gai-Sensei insisted. “Just a little…crooked”.

“Either way,” dropping her hand off of his shoulder, Tenten turned to their Sensei. “I think Kakashi-Sensei win’s this one. Sasuke actually looks good for once

Sasuke’s only response was to cross his arms over his chest and turn away from Tenten like an upset five year old.

“I guess that’s true,” Gai-Sensei sighed, the disappointment weighing down on his face. “How did you do it, Rival? The last time I saw you cut your hair you were using a Kunai.”

“Oh, well it’s a bit of a secret,” lowering his book, Kakashi peered at Gai-Sensei with a look that Neji could only describe as ‘michivous’. “I’m not sure I want to share it.”

At the mention of a ‘secret’ Gai-Sensei sprang forward and grabbed hold of Kakashi’s hands, sending his book flying into the air where Lee proceeded to save it from falling to the ground.

“Tell me, Rival. I must know,” he insisted. “If i’m to beat you in our next competition I must know how you think.”

“Well…” Kakashi turned his gaze towards Sasuke. “I don’t know…”

“Please, Kakashi. Tell me.”

One more second of pause and then he sighed. “If you must know, I took him to a barber.”

The world came crashing down around Neji.

A barber.

While he was being subjected to unspeakable crimes against his hair, Sasuke had been put in a comfy chair and entrusted to a professional.

“You-“

“Well, you should be more clear with your challenges next time, Rival,” Neji could see the smirk reaching up into Kakashi’s eyes and he wanted nothing more to slap it right off of his face, but he refrained. It would only end with him being embarrassed further in front of his teammates. “You just said I had give my student a haircut. You didn’t say i had to be holding the scissors.”

A win was a win.

Kakashi-Sensei had out smarted Gai-Sensei, and the only one who had to suffer for it all was Neji and his terrible hair cut.

#Kakagai Competiton #Kakashi vs Gai Competiton #Maito Gai #Hatake Kakashi #Hyuga Neji #Uchiha Sasuke

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erikamaybe · 1 year

Text

The Rewards of Service

When the call to protect the Earth went out, they said only the most dysphoric trans girls could survive the mental and emotional strain of being remade as the perfect, adorable, death dealing waifus needed to protect and unite the planet. The process was agony, so much had to be taken away and replaced with metal and polymer. But what's left of you is TOO CUUUUTE! The perfect pinup spokes model for the Cause. From your fashionable haircut, to your cherubic face, to your perky breasts, to your smooth tummy, down to the demure coin slot pussy your navy blue one piece swimsuit/ flight suit just hints at, you're finally the petite and playful girl you always wanted to be. The metal rings of the interface sockets where your old limbs used to be weren't part of the plan, but it was a small price to pay. The chaos and fear and death of fighting in near Earth space… that was a bigger price. You survived your first sortie, but you just can't stop crying. You hang in the darkened de-arming cradle, cold unfeeling robot arms holding you up as more remove your flight armor and your engagement limbs, packed with rocket pods, flight jets, and laser arrays. The lights come on, blinding you. You can hear the crisp tap of heels on the deck, a blurry figure approaching. As your vision returns you make out an exaggerated hourglass figure looming over you. "Hello, I'm your permanent handler and government issue girlfriend" What? They issued you a gf? What the hell? No one told you about this! You've almost gathered yourself to protest when a huge hand cups your cheek. It feels so warm after the cold of space. You let go of your protest as you melt into the hand. You look up at her as your vision finally clears. She's huge, easily 8 feet, broad in the shoulders and just as broad in the hips. Her bosom is barely contained by a military grade brassiere and a crisp, button up shirt. She must have a canine gene-mod, with floppy ears and a prominent nose. Her expression shifts from coldly professional to a knowing smirk as your eyes linger on her body. "My name is Garnet… But you can call me mommy when my cock is inside you." WAAAAAAAHHHHH!?!? Your brain turns off as your body turns on, nipples hardening and your pussy, the best 22nd century medical science could provide, blooms with heat and wetness that rapidly soaks your flight suit. That wonderful hand pats you gently on the head. "Good girl, you're exactly what your psych profile said you would be." GOOD GIRL!? HEAD PATS!? MOMMY COCK!? "That's right, you're humanity's last, best hope. You get all the head pats and mommy cock a good girl can handle for what you're doing." Did… did you say that out loud? You did, you said that out loud, she heard it… You blush hot enough to feel through the flush of lust and praise. If you had limbs you'd cover your face and run away. But all you can do is close your eyes and pretend to be dead. Your composure almost breaks when she strips off your flight suit, but no, nope, you've died of embarrassment. But when something massive and hot is shoved deep into your pussy, the moan you let out goes on forever. Whatever self control you had left is lost as you cum from that single, unexpected thrust. Your body clenches around the molten, throbbing heat inside as you moan and scream and cry, letting out everything you've held back as you endured torture to become something you could be happy as. Arms wrap around you and press your face into starchy shirt over soft breasts. You're lifted away from lifeless robot arms, still impaled, a warm hand cupping your ass for support. "There, there baby girl, let to all out for mommy" And you do… you let it all out for mommy…

It felt so good to finally cut loose and scream and wail. It felt so good to do all that while impaled on the enormous cock of an equally enormous woman who is holding you to her bosom. It felt so good to be called 'baby girl'... When you're finally all cried out from the horror of war and death and gender you look up from the wet and snotty mess you've made of Garnet's… of Mommy's shirt. At some point she carried you away from the cramped confines of your de-arming hanger and now you're in a surprisingly luxurious bathroom. You had no idea there was anything like this on the carrier. You'd always showered with the other girls back ground side. "You seem surprised sweetie. You're a very important war asset now. No more maybes, no more training. You fought, you killed, and you didn't die or have your psyche collapse completely. Now you get everything you could possibly need to keep your head on straight and keep doing your job." The thought of putting your flight kit on and going back out there hits you like a brick. You're stunned, disoriented, about to start crying again when suddenly you're lifted off Mommy's cock and set down into a warm and soft cradle. The sudden emptiness and all over warmth breaks your train of thought. Garnet leans in, looming over you, her huge hands cupping your face. "Hey… It's ok. I'm here to make it ok. I'm here to make all this worth it." The kiss she gives you is a slow, exploratory thing. She takes her time, exploring you, learning you, tasting you. The whine you make when she draws away is deeply embarrassing despite, or maybe because of, the intimacy you're sharing. "I can't kiss you and get undressed at the same time silly. Or did you want me to get in the bath fully clothed?" She swings the cradle around so you can watch her undress. She starts with her pleated knee length skirt, shimmying to get it down past her phenomenal hips and butt. Her shirt-tails are barely sufficient to tuck in, they do nothing to hide her ass or her sheath and bright red cock. Canine gene-mod confirmed. She meets your gaze as she unbuttons her formerly crisp military shirt, posing like an old fashioned pin-up, winking and blowing kisses, making you blush and squirm. A groan of relief accompanies the removal of her dour, functional, military issue bra. The thump it makes in the floor is almost as loud as the crack of her back and your gasp of horny delight at the bounty of jiggling titty pointed at you. Finally she steps out of her sensible heels. Garnet, nude and glorious, turns and places a hand on your tummy, rubbing and groping your nubile body with shocking casualness. "What a cute thing you are. Cute and helpless and all mine…" A pair of fingers slide into your pussy, nothing compared to the monster girlcock shoved into your earlier, but still shocking, invasive, thrilling. "I saw you staring at my tits baby girl. Be a good little weapon and I'll let you have arms so you can play with them. But you haven't earned arms yet. Today you've earned being my living onahole and a hot bath." You're not sure how to feel about the way Garnet's talking at you, but that concern takes a back seat to asdkgjlkrbnfonvoawsdklfwpriojg!!! as she starts eating you out. Normally you might call the perfectly crafted pussy they gave you… neat, demure. Perfect for just hinting at a more intimate sexuality from behind a contrived panty shot. But under the heat and moisture and skill of Garnet's lips and tongue and TEETH you can feel things blooming… engorging. It's amazing but an ache is starting inside you, an acute sense of emptiness ready to be filled by Garnet's glorious knot. You finally find your voice after so many wordless cries. "Garnet…" Your voice is so whiny and needy… oh gosh you hope Garnet finds it sex that you're unraveling under her attention. "Garnet, please… I… I want to be your onahole. I need to be filled. I… I… oooooooooo..." Oh god you're cumming, you're cumming while Garnet's long canine tongue schlorp schlorp schlorps your brain right out of your head. It all comes out in a rush "Ineedtobeused! FUCKMEPLEASE!" You can't believe you said that! But you really, really did and you could swear you feel Garnet grinning as she coaxes your orgasm to another peak. After that all you can do is moan and gasp and try to writhe as waves of pleasure crash through you.

Sweating, panting, disoriented… Whaaaaa? Oh, Garnet stopped eating your pussy like the goddamned world champion of cunnilingus and you have enough spare neurotransmitters for your higher functions to work again… neat… but also boooooooooo… Huh? Oh, speech, Garnet is talking. "Are you listening? Oops, there we go, I can see the lights are back on upstairs from your cute little pout. I said, I'm gonna show you something neat, accept my share request." You double blink, bringing your HUD up to full opacity. There's a share request for a video feed labeled: Garnet Live Feed. You accept with a thought and your field of vision fills with Garnet's eyecam stream. Aaaaaand she's looking at your pussy. Your shining, sopping, engorged pussy. Your labia have bloomed into something from Georgia O'Keefe's fever dreams, meaty petals surrounding a fleshy passage that looks… almost… hungry… as it pulses and winks at Garnet, topped by an erect clit the size of your thumb. Waah? What? What delirious mind designed a pussy that went from dainty coinslot to cockhungering maw? "One who's studied your porn history with the focus of a sculptor researching a block of marble baby girl" Oh fuck your said that out loud again… you've been spending too much time alone… again… "MY PORN HISTORY!?" you blurt out. "Baby girl… Our program has developed the most complete and effective predictive psych profile in human history. You have no secrets left. And your profile said you wanted a "cute" pussy that would be able to "take monster girldick". The euphoria designers aren't miracle workers, but they come damn close." She runs a finger around your vagina, caressing your labia and tracing your ready hole, sending shivers through you. "So when you get stimulated by a monstergirl like me with the right activation enzymes in my spit… you get ready for her monstergirl dick. So… do you feel ready?" Yes? Yes! YES!!! You nod your head with enough vigor to bounce slightly in your cradle. "Say it, use your words bottom." Oh nooooo… Meme attack, critical hit to the extremely online trans girl. Fuckfuckfuck… You just have to tell her that you want her fat cock filling your pussy, fucking your brains out. You can do this! "Garnet… um… I guess… I mean, if you want to… You could stuff my slu…" No, not today. You aren't down in the barracks dirtside anymore, trying to out slut the other cyborg babes to get fucked by one of the girls able to top in the Pre-Op bunk next door. Today you're a hero, or, at the very least, an essential asset. An asset that had EARNED a reward. "Mommy, I want you to fill my essential to the defense of Earth pussy with your huge knotted monster girldick. You said I earned being your onahole, so… so please give me what I've earned." Garnet bites her lip as she slides her hands under you. "Good girl… very good girl… that's the kind of attitude I like in a fuck toy…" A series of warnings flash across your HUD as she lifts you, hands around your neck and waist.

ONAHOLE PROTOCOLS: ON

ACCELERATION DAMPERS: ACTIVE

NECK ARTICULATION: LOCKED

INTERNAL OXYGEN SUPPLY: ACTIVE

SPEECH FUNCTION: LOCKED

WOMB PROTOCOL: ACTIVE

WOMB!?!?! You think this at Garnet as hard as you can. "Baby girl, I told you the euphoria designers aren't miracle workers. All this has to go somewhere if you're gonna get knotted like you've been wanting for so long. It just opens your "cervix" which leads right into your state of the art robot tummy-tum, which is being told to not start digesting me while I'm in there" Bored with talking instead of fucking Garnet roughly shoves you down onto her cock. OOOOOOH FUUUUUCK this is so much more than before. You can feel your guts rearranging to make room for her. Yeah sure, physically you are ready for this. Emotionally, you were not ready for how being an immobile limbless fucktoy being mercilessly manhandled would feel so right. Your eyes roll back and your tongue lols out of your mouth as you surrender to being used. When Garnet penetrates your "cervix" there's a moment of heavy pressure and a deep 'pop' as she enters your guts. Oh god she's so deep and you're not even on her knot yet. The wet sound of pussy getting wrecked is joined by primal glurks as her cock quests ever deeper, forcing air out of your locked down throat. Finally Garnet hilts in you for the first time, her grunts becoming a feral snarl. She sets you back in the cradle even as her grip tightens. She humps you in a frenzy of short, fast strokes building to a final triumphant thrust as she cums with a howl. Finally you get to feel a knot inflating inside you and it sets off what would be a back breaker of an orgasm if you could move. In this hypersensitive womb mode you can feel her pumping into you, thick and hot, filling you and overfilling you. You don't see the kiss coming, fierce, slobbery, possessive. Garnet moans into you as the both of you shudder through orgasms together.

You can feel your tummy distending to accommodate the inhuman volume of cum being pumped into you. Your vagina is stretched taut around Garnet's throbbing knot, a hot, intimate, comforting sensation. You can't whimper when Garnet stops kissing you, but it's worth it when her arms wrap around you and lift you out of the warmth of the cradle and nestle your face and upper torso into the warmth of her behemoth bosom. Slowly the onahole safety protocols disengage as she pets your hair. "Now, does my good toy have anything to say now that her voice is back online?" Words? No words, only warm. Inside and out warmth, finally driving the cold of space, of fear, of death from your body, your mind, your heart. All you can manage is sleepy satisfied noises as you nuzzle her impossibly soft breasts. "Hahahaha… Ok, guess I'm asking too much from baby girl…" You jostle slightly as Garnet turns to the bath that's been patiently waiting for the two of you to finish fucking, gently circulating to keep the water at the perfect "almost too hot when you first get in, then perfect and soothing once you have a second to acclimate" temperature. The feel of slowly submerging into a perfect hot bath rouses you, eyes fluttering open to see Garnet smiling down at you with a mix of gentle condescension and affection. A hand on the back of your head guides you into a kiss, and this time you aren't limp with post cry exhaustion or literally locked in place. You kiss her back with all the need and enthusiasm that's been building since she first called you Baby Girl. Some timeless eternity later you both pull away, gazing into each other's eyes. You pause, enjoying this perfect moment, enjoying the feel of Garnet's hands caressing and groping your body with casual possessiveness, her knot still filling you, supporting you. "Garnet… I… I think I'm in love with you… Is… Is that too incredibly shallow? To fall in love because you're beautiful, and kind, and fuck like my deepest fantasies come to life?" Garnet shakes her head gently. "Baby Girl… You're in so deep you don't even understand the depths to which you're being manipulated. It would be a genuine crisis to this operation if you weren't falling in love with me right now. But I'm right there with you. I signed up for this job… But I picked you. I've been falling in love with you for months. This isn't going to be a smooth road, we're in a war for the survival of humanity as a concept. I'm much more informed about what's actually happening. But I want you, I want you to survive, I want you to have something to survive for. Tomorrow the long road of being together starts. But for tonight…" You feel Garnet's massive cock swelling and throbbing inside you. "I'm going to test exactly how much cum my girl can hold." With bitten lip and hasty nod you agree. Worry can wait till tomorrow, you're not going to let anything take tonight from you. You earned it.

#PHGposts

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