#talla talk

[tallatonk]

elq is monologuing and chay and leo placed signs saying "can you shut up now?" and "keep yappin" i am CACKLING

[blisterinballista]

psssst. breathe on this post if youre an fnf roleplayer and still kickin please? ty

[adrienneleclerc]

Sizes

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Plus-size Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles decides to take his girlfriend shopping and things don’t turn out the way he wants them to

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors, I guess self hate, weight comments

A/N: this will be a very self-indulgent fanfic because i am on the “bigger” side, I’m a size US 12 through US 18 depending on the store, I’ll always look for the XL tops, but yeah, this is something I struggle with. I hope some of y’all can relate to this!

Y/N L/N was in the plane with Charles, they were flying from New York to Monaco. Y/N was listening to music, looking out the window, Charles noticed that Y/N has been a little quiet, this happens every time they visit Y/N’s parents in New York. Y/N doesn’t even know why she bothers visiting them, all they do is talk about her weight.

Y/N has always been a bigger size, even when she was younger. Growing up, her mom would side eye her whenever she would get a second plate, she always heard “si ya comiste un plato, por qué te vas a servir más?” “If You’re hungry, drink water.” It is even worse when she went shopping with her mother and if Y/N says that she can’t find anything in her size, her mom will say “si ya sabes que no hay nada en tu talla, por qué no bajas de peso?” And of course, the ever so great, “no vas a encontrar novio si sigues así de gorda.” When Y/N was a teenager, her mom had her take diet pills from Mexico to help her lose weight. And sure, Y/N lost weight, but she gained it back and her mom never let her hear the end of it, “if you already lost the weight, why didn’t you try to keep it off? I kept the weight off, I’m eating less, why can’t you?” Her mom would send her photos of when she lost weight and text her “look how beautiful you were, try to lose weight.” As if it was so easy. It was even worse when her dad joined in “don’t worry mija, we’ll find a way for you to lose weight.” If you already had one plate, why do you serve yourself more, if you already know there’s nothing in your size, why don’t you lose weight, you’re not gonna find a boyfriend of you’re fat,

So when she visited her mom the first thing she heard was

“Mija, has subido de peso, verdad?” Y/N’s mom Celia, asked, Y/N rolled her eyes. You gained weight, right?

“Hola mami, yo ha estado muy bien, y tú?” Y/N asked sarcastically. Hi mom, I’ve been good, and you?

“Don’t listen to your mother, como has estado, mija? Cómo está tu novio?” Y/N’s dad, Julio, asked, leading Y/N on the couch, how have you been? How’s your boyfriend?

“Ah si, el novio, sigues con él o ya encontró un modelo?” Celia asked, ah yes, the boyfriend, are you still together or did he find himself a model?

“Sí, Mami, sigo con él, ahorita está en el yankee stadium ese para hacer el celebrity pitch.” Y/N said. Yes mom, I’m still with with, right now he’s at the Yankee stadium to do the celebrity pitch

“Ooh si, como no.” Celia commented. “Pero ya que estás aquí, fui a México con tu papá y mi amiga consiguió las pastillas.” Celia got up to go to the kitchen and brought back 3 bottles of pills. “Hay 60 cada uno, tómatelas, quizás por fin serás digno de ser la novia de un piloto de Fórmula uno.” Y/N just stood there and shoved the pills in her bag. Yeah sure, but now that you’re here I went to Mexico with your dad and my friend got me the pills. There 60 in each bottle, take them, maybe then you’ll finally look like an F1 driver’s girlfriend

“Not that this wasn’t fun, pero ya me voy, papi, te quiero mucho, te veo en navidad, mami…adiós.” Y/N said, leaving her parent’s apartment. But I’m gonna go, dad, I love you, I’ll see you at Christmas, mom…bye

Which brings us back to the plane ride. Charles didn’t like seeing Y/N so upset so he tapped her arm and asked Y/N to take off her headphones and she did.

“Mon coeur, do you want to talk about what happened?” Charles asked

“Not really.” Y/N said.

“When we land in Monaco, do you want to go shopping?” Charles asked and Y/N looked confused. “I have this event with APM Monaco, I was thinking we could get some new clothes, doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“I Don’t know, muñeco…” Y/N said but was interrupted by Charles.

“I Don’t like seeing you upset, Mon ange. I want to do this for you, you could pick whatever dress you want, matching shoes, some jewelry…” Charles said and Y/N interrupted him.

“Muñeco, you Don’t really have to.” Y/N said.

“I want to, I want to spoil you, you deserve it.” Charles said, kissing Y/N. “Now get some sleep. We’ll freshen up when we land and then we’ll go shopping.”

So that’s what Y/N did, she slept until the plane stopped. Once the plane landed, they got out and Charles drove them back to his apartment so they could shower. Once showered, Y/N styled her hair and picked out a casual outfit so they could go shopping.

“You look beautiful, Mon coeur.” Charles said, kissing her.

“Thank you, muñeco.” Y/N said, she got her bag and saw the pills in there. She just shoved them in her suitcase before charles could see the,.

“Come on, let’s go to the metropole shopping center, I’m sure they’ll have something beautiful for you.” Charles said. Y/N nods her head. Charles drove to the mall and they entered a fancy dress store.

“Wow, these dresses are beautiful.” Y/N said.

“Yep, I’m going to pick out some dresses for you to try, okay.” Charles said before kissing her cheek and Y/N started to roam around the store.

She a sales lady side eyeing her. It made Y/N feel self conscious, like many times before, Y/N just looked at the dresses, took a picture, and texted her thinner friends saying ‘you’ll love these dresses’ because she sure as hell knows she won’t fit in them. She turned around and saw Charles holding 3 dresses in her preferred colors and preferred style.

“I think you would look amazing in these. I’ll be right outside the dressing room if you need help, okay.” Charles said. Y/N walked into the dressing room and saw herself in the mirror.

“Here goes nothing.” Y/N said. She’s checked the tag and it said it was a size EU 48, which is her size, so as she tried in the dress, she noticed it was a little tight in the waist area. “Muñeco, Can you help me?” Charles pulled back the curtain and got in, closing the curtain behind him. He tried to zip up,the dress but he couldn’t. Everything Celia told her came flooding in her head, she has gained weight, she shouldn’t have eaten so much growing up, it was her own fault that she was fat, she should have kept the weight off. She was so in her head that she didn’t realize she was crying or that Charles was speaking until charles was right in front of her, wiping her tears with tissues that Y/N carrieesaround in her purse.

“Mon ange, are you okay?” Charles asked softly.

“No, I am not okay. This stupid dress doesn’t fit, probably nothing in this store will fit me because I am so fat, maybe I should take those diet pills my mom gave me, I am so ugly.” Y/N sobbed, taking off the dress haphazardly, not caring if she ripped something or not. She put her jeans and oversized t shirt back on but sat down on the floor to sob into her hands. Charles has tears in his eyes, it hurt to hear her talk about herself this way.

“Mon coeur, what happened with your mother?” Charles asked. Y/N got another reissue for her bag and blew her bise before answering him.

“She said that I have gained weight, asked if we were still together or if you found yourself a model girlfriend, and she gave me diet pills so i can lose weight like I did when I was 16/17.” Y/N said. Charles felt angry, how could a mother say that to her own daughter?

“Mon coeur, I love you, you know that, right? I love you so much and don’t worry about the dress, there are other stores that carry bigger sizes and so,étimos the sizing runs short here.” Charles attempts to make Y/N feel better.

“You don’t get it, Charles. You could find a dress that could perfectly fit me and I’m going to hate myself in it, my mom would point out my flaws when we’re shopping ‘you’re back is too wide for that dress, this dress shows off your belly, if you lost 20 pounds, you could pull off that dress’, even if I really liked something I wore, my mom would ruin it for me. And now I say that about myself, it’s so bad” Y/N cried and Charles hugged her, smoothie her back, letting her cry it all out.

“Mon coeur, you need to stop visiting your mother. I know you love your parents but visiting your mom is not healthy for you. You’re not going to take those diet pills, okay? Those things are dangerous and who knows the side effects it might cause. Now listen to me very carefully, you are beautiful, your size doesn’t matter, not to me, I fell in love with you because you’re funny, you are so sweet to everyone, you love animals, you could be a size 50 or a size 32 and I would still love you because of your personality.” Charles said, cupping Y/N’s face, kissing her nose. “Safe to say we won’t be buying this.”

“Yeah, no.” Y/N said, they got out of the dressing room and put the dress back.

“I suggest getting bigger sizes, try being more inclusive.” Charles said befriended leaving the store with Y/N. “I think you deserve some ice cream, don’t you?”

“I would love some.” Y/N said and Charles had his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple before heading to an ice cream shop in the mall.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, this was a very personal one shot for me, this was based off true experiences, I really do struggle with this, I cried while writing.

This is me, sorry for the jump scare

[paniniseller]

The princess – on a private sailing holiday with Vice Admiral Laurence – made a surprise visit to the Talla Dearg art gallery on the Isle Ornsay on Skye

Pam Carter, a local artist, at first failed to recognise the Royal pair when they entered her gallery. They also visited a nearby hotel for coffee.

The princess and her husband bought a limited edition print of a view of the Isle of Rum – a souvenir of their sail. An assistant collected it later.

"We chatted for quite a while and I asked them if they had hired the yacht. Tim Laurence said it was theirs and they had been doing this for 18 years. I joked that he must be a dab hand at sailing," she said.

"It was only when the hotel manager came in later that I realised who I had been talking to."

[useless-catalanfacts]

Expressions for cold and heat in Catalan

Besides the simple "fa fred" (it's cold) and "fa calor" (it's hot), there are many fun expressions in the Catalan language to talk about it.

How to say it's cold? 🥶

Fa fred (it's cold)

Fa un fred que pela (the cold peels you)

Fa un fred de mil dimonis (it's a cold of a thousand demons)

Fa un fred que glaça el pensament (the cold freezes your thought)

Fa un fred que talla or fa un fred que talla la cara (the cold cuts or the cold cuts your face)

Fa un fred que rau (it's a cold that scrapes)

Fa un fred que aixeca les pedres (the cold lifts the stones up)

Fa un fred que glaça la cua dels gossos (the cold freezes dogs' tails)

How to say it's hot or sunny? 🥵☀️

Fa sol (it's sunny) / fa calor (it's hot)

Fa un sol de justícia (it's a sun of justice)

Fa un sol que bofega (it's a sun that blisters)

Fa un sol que estavella/esquerda/rosteix les pedres (it's a sun that breaks/roasts the stones)

Fa un sol que bada les pedres/penyes (it's a sun that opens the stones/crags)

Fa un sol que torra el cul a les llebres (it's a sun that toasts the hares' butts)

Fa un sol que tomba de cul (it's a sun that knocks you down on your butt)

Fa un sol que estaborneix (it's a sun that stuns / that knocks you out)

Fa un sol que fa grinyolar els cans (it's a sun that makes dogs yelp)

Fa un sol que fa caure la cua als moixons (it's a sun that makes birds' tails fall off)

Fa un sol que cauen els moixons rostits (it's a sun that the birds fall down roasted)

Fa un sol que torra pardals (it's a sun that toasts sparrows/birds)

Fa un sol que espanta les mosques (it's a sun that scares the flies)

Fa un sol que s'hi couen les sargantanes (it's a sun that boils lizards)

Cau foc or plou foc (fire is falling down or it's raining fire)

Cauen atxes enceses (lit torches are falling down)

Cau una bona teia (a good torch is falling down on us)

Fa una calor que atalba/aclapara (it's an overwhelming heat)

Fa una calor de mil dimonis (it's a heat of a thousand demons)

Fa una calor de cal Déu (it's a heat of God's house)

Fa una calor que sua el sagrari (it's a heat that the church tabernacle sweats)

Fa una calor que em suen les dents (it's a heat that my teeth sweat)

[waytointothetarotsequence]

So in The Last Sun, Rune talks about how Adam can't be his tallah, and we find out why in The Hourglass Throne. The spoilers start here: what if both Brand and Adam are his tallas, the only way he and Brand connected for the first time was because in the future Adam would be there. Meaning Rune and Adam were always meant to, and always did, go back in time to that night. Runes tallah bond broke in the past with Brand because Adam and current Rune return to the current time.

Just some random thoughts while rereading the books.

[ars-matron]

The Tarot Sequence Reread

Nothing has given me brain rot in a long while like the Tarot Sequence by K D Edwards has. And since I just finished reading all the supplemental stuff right when my hold for The Last Sun came back up I thought I would do something I have only done once before-and in a much less flattering way for a book I hated-and live blog my reread.

There's just so much in this series I need to pay closer attention to. And usually I would go on here and read some metas, but there is literally nothing!! The only things in the tags for this series is people wishing there were more people reading it, a handful of very wonderful fanarts, and an account of the decline of a discord that evidently used to exist for it. So, maybe this will encourage some people to read the books too.

Because there are some heavy topics in this series anytime I talk about such topics I will tag for them, but if they don't come up in the chapters I'm reviewing, I won't. So if you have certain things back listed you might not see all my posts on it. Anyone who is reading along and is curious about it can DM me.

NOW! Predictions and things I want to pay attention to under the cut for spoiler reasons.

The Tower. At the end of the prologue of the first book my thoughts were, " So we trust NO ONE!!" Except Queenie, because why would Rune and Brand live with her if she was evil? Then the children showed up and I had to trust them, they were too young to be part of the, whole thing, plus they are so cute. You have to trust them. And then Addam came along, and of course we trust him, he's an Addam, he's a giant dancing teddy bear and I love him! So I read the whole series (that's out so far) expecting we would find out the Tower was an evil guy, that he had had something to do with the fall of the Sun Throne. Honestly by the end of the third book I didn't think that any longer, and I was starting to before that after finding out he was also Qunn's godfather because!!! There is no way Qunn wouldn't have seen if the Tower revealed he had been a part of all that. (I'm still asking myself HOW exactly he or Mayan wouldn't have noticed an astral projection listening device being installed in Rune's room at their freaking tower that is super locked down! But then it happened for two other locations that were supposed to be super warded and protected my other companions too. So maybe it isn't his fault. I do think he might blame himself, I do think that some of his stand-offishness might also be guilt for not being able to stop the attack on the Sun Throne to start with. We will see...) I'm going to go into this read through with the assumption he is just lonely and sad and not a bad guy.

QUEENIE!!!! Because, WHO THE FUCK IS QUEENIE!? I was already suspicious because every time someone asks Rune and Brand where she came from, or how long she's been with them, they say "She's been with us forever." Every time! It reeks of mind fuckery. Then Eidolon and the epilogue that wasn't came along. Current theory is that she is the Empress, and also that she's probably Rune's mother. I would be willing to bet she was the woman at the end of the third book who spoke up to the river after everyone else. Edwards did a good job of making her disappear in the background, but I'm gonna be hunting for every mention of her and how she acts around everyone.

Ciaran, just because I love him and at first also suspected him of evil deeds. But he's just your gay vodka uncle and he loves all his adopted family so much and I just want to keep a closer on him at the start of the series.

Kellum. We only see him once in the second book, but he's mentioned in Eidolon by the Fool (Or Queenie pretending to be the Fool, again I'm not sure, there's Queenie interference for sure) And he was in one of the supplemental novellas. I think he will be making a bigger appearance in the next book.

Quinn's prophecies. I'll probably make a list of those for a separate master post.

Tallas. The Atlantean soul mates. This is a MAJOR spoiler. Rune says that Brand and he formed a talla bond the night of the attack. That it was what brought Brand out of the geas and got them to safety. The bond was gone when he woke up in the hospital and he's spent this whole time thinking he's somehow broken their talla bond. Something definitely happened between him and Addam in the Westlands, and I don't think Addam was wrong in assuming it was the budding of a talla bond. Because something sort of bond-like is also there now after the Hourglass Throne, after he used his bond with Brand to get him and Addam back to their time. My theory here is that they might be each other tallas, all three of them. Together. We know that it doesn't have to be a sexual relationship, though I don't think Addam would mind that one bit. Everything is pointing to the three of them being tied together somehow, and my theory is mostly that, before they were together together, no one talla bond could form and take precedence over the other. Now that they are together all the time, going on missions, living together, they have more opportunities for a bond to fully form and take hold. Assuming it involves all three of them.

And with that, I'm going to go read!

[l4long-winded]

i. the freefall (ergo, the beginning)

summary: you're bored with the available clientele you're scheduled to appease. you're on your way out of the tavern when you stumble upon, literally and figuratively, geralt of rivia. how long had he been sitting there? (geralt of rivia x afab!reader)

reflection: i couldn't sleep and i had the idea for this lodged in my brain. it has undergone little editing, but persevere. there is some story in there... kinda. enjoy, and feedback is always encouraged and appreciated.

warnings: brothel!reader, mention of the word whore, cursing, dirty talk, oral, riding, destiny, p in v, overstimulation, praise, longwinded descriptions, obedience, teasing, girl talk, thumb sucking, original characters (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 4,367

previously: prologue

( this work has been cross posted to ao3 )

It’s a busy night at the inn, there are scattering men jesting about their conquests and journeys at every turn, all talking at once until the voices meld into one another, white noise buzzing in your ears as you search across the bar for possible clients. It’s a birthday party of some sort and you’re degradingly a part of the package they signed up for in celebration of their mate… who is currently laying face down in his barstool right next to you. You grimace as you nudge his drooling face away from you, recalling how he fell asleep through a few minutes of conversation. Next door, a ten minute distance, is the brothel that you and your colleagues work for. Seeing that it’s only you and two other women, Janci and Talla, both of whom are chatting up possible prospects, you groan in your solitude and opt for a mug of mead to drown your sorrows away. Parties such as these hardly did your commission’s rate any good. By contract, you’re required to be paid by attendance. The bare minimum that is. If you wish to earn and save a living, you must actually participate and garner it, for the establishment and for your sake.

You hopelessly sigh as you watch the drunkards play games that make little to no sense, basic questions asked with the purpose of drinking no matter the answers presented. At this point, you don’t think you want to take any of them to bed in this state. They’re handsy when they’re inebriated and entitled in such a fashion that implicates how well you can stay in character. You stand from the stool, prepared to head out and confess your weakness, your failures back home, the door beckoning you up ahead behind a shirtless man with an overgrown beard. It’s about time to cut your losses and stay up in bed disappointed rather than sulk and do so in public at an inn’s tavern. Your heels click on the floor, four steps away from the bar, your hands lifting your heavy skirts so you can continue walking without restricted movement. In doing so, a man’s back bumps into your shoulder with enough force to knock you down to the floor.

You stagger as you fall backwards, aiming for the nearest seat as there were so many sporadically placed from men moving them about, switching spaces the more excited they became. Accurately, you do land into a seat, but it’s not a chair. It’s a person and you somehow missed him this entire time, he must’ve slipped in undetected very recently. It’s a miracle, you think, how such a large man slipped under your radar, how the cloak over his head conceals rigid, masculine features you believe prove the existence of the divine and how she has her favorites. You glance to the left to see sunglow emanating from this patron’s eyes, to see that sunglow completely focused on you, the woman who fell clumsily into his lap. The warmth of his irises contrasts the ice of his silver hair, of his pale skin tone, of the opaque he dons in body armor that’s digging into your side. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone like him.

“No respect, fools of influence,” he mutters, baritone entrenched in his tone, gravel sitting nicely on his vocal chords. You’re glad your first experience hearing it is so close to your ear, it’s almost as if he intimately whispered it just for you alone. From how loud the inn currently is, he might as well have.

“You’re clear to stand,” he says and it’s tempting since it was a previous desire, but he’s drinking from his mug now, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps the liquid away. His jawline comes down when he’s done, the mug set down into the surface behind your body. You should stand, but you’re entranced by him, under a silent incantation. It’s not like he’s bolstering or pushing you away, either. His eyes trace your movements, how little they are, and he resolves something in his head as he allows his hand to travel to your hip. The steady weight of it tells you he’s made peace with the circumstance.

“Or stay there. Take your time.” He leans back into his chair, his legs outstretched to give you a better seat, more room of muscle mass that you can feel flex from the adjustment. You maintain your balance by hanging onto his shoulders, a slight gasp leaving your mouth from how your skirts ride up your knees and thighs. You catch his glance there and then his eyes are glued back to yours. Something in the pit of your stomach gnaws away at you from how intense his gaze is. You would usually shrink away from someone so intimidating, that is, if that same intimidation didn’t spur fire within you like it’s presently doing.

“What’s your name?” He asks, the hand on your hip coming back to memory as he strokes his thumb along you. You shiver at the contact, even somehow through the layers of fabric he’s doing this through.

“Clove,” you say, rehearsed as ever that he squeezes your hip for.

“Your real name?” He questions next, but you’re unable to divulge that much. You shake your head, and he nods his own in understanding to your surprise. He doesn’t even pry further than that, other men would have tried to and then thrown tantrums.

“So, Clove, any reason I shouldn’t usher you off my lap so I could acquire a room and get some sleep?” He nudges you, changing the subject. You could feel your confidence depleting sitting atop of him. It’s mimicking your luck for the night and you’re afraid he would refuse your advances. You’re afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle him.

“I… I’m not sure,” you stutter out. This isn’t your first time picking a man up, but god were you bad at it. None were as patient as this man is, who taps your hip, calling attention to his stroking again.

“You’re not?” One arm rounds your waist, trapping you into him. You swallow harshly as you shift your hips involuntarily. It’s friction that lights your core, a shaky sound slipping from between your lips. No one else turns to look, but the hardened tent beneath you illustrates how this man heard you loud and clear. He inhales with purpose, gathering the fabric of your skirt between his fingers. You don’t know what he could be thinking about, but he’s regarding you with hunger you’ve seen and are familiar with at least.

“I may…” you slide your hips back, locating his arousal to grind against. His grip on your hip tightens, limiting your gyrations, how dull the pressure is as you chase his clothed cock with your desperate attempts. He grunts into your ear and already you’re imagining this with less clothing, with less individuals, with less discussions surrounding you, with only each other in a private room to do whatever he wanted. “I may know how to ride.”

His hands cover both your hips, halting your motions much to your chagrin. Your first instinct is to believe you’ve done something wrong, your eyes tracing his facial features to decipher what it could have been, if you went too fast too soon, or maybe you moved in a way that he didn’t like. Except, as molten gold meets your gaze, it’s a thinner ring of pigment as he roots you into him, dilation honed in on you, caused by you. You had him the second you fell into his lap, it’s your revelation because you’ve barely said a thing and he’s sizing you up, gauging you like a predator and its prey. You could feel his cock throbbing like this, expanding with pulses right up against your leaking center. He’s interested, been interested, and he’s gripping your jaw into his hand.

“How much?” He all but growls.

Geralt of Rivia, the name of the man who signs his name for a room with you, lavs at your cunt until you’re preening and kanting your hips towards his face. It rocks you almost violently and it shocks you how quickly it happened. He licks you through the aftermath, caresses your pulsing button with the flat of his tongue in efforts to appease the sensation floating over you in deep waves. You mewl as he removes his mouth, as he sits up on his knees to wipe it with the back of his forearm and wrist. His lips still glisten with you after the fact, with the sweat coating his brow and thinly coating his free chest, his shirt and armor discarded carelessly through the eagerness you both let get the best of you. You fumbled with the key to the room as Geralt stood behind you, his voice promising of what he would do, dropping in octave and volume as if you weren’t already alone, as if he were reciting a secret in confidence. Nerves visibly danced in your hands and he did nothing to help, amused by your struggling, cool and collected as his nose nuzzled against your neck and shoulder.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, “That won’t stop… I won’t stop.”

When you finally pried the door open, he displayed to you how little of his resolve he had left since he immediately pushed you up against it. His lips and teeth occupied themselves with your neck, your leg hooking him by the hip to bring him closer. He used the opportunity to lift you by it, doing so as if you weighed nothing, carting you to the bed to sit and pull your skirts up while he removed his upper layer of clothing. It’s quite a sight to recognize how the armor’s mold has been crafted to represent muscle, but it’s another to see just how much of it was hidden away under there. It’s like he somehow got bigger if it were even possible.

It’s prominent to you now as you stare up at him, skirts disheveled about your hips, thighs spread open, his form right in the middle of the space. He commands attention, the lantern of the room illuminating his features. He uses two fingers to trail over the seam of your entrance, gathering the wetness, your voice surrendering to a whimper. You will yourself not to close your legs from how stimulating it feels post-orgasm, you don’t know if you’ve ever been so sensitive to touch in your life.

“So soft,” he murmurs. The pads of his fingers are rough, but astonishingly gentle, perfect for friction, not perfect for recreation. It’s not possible to replicate with your own hand. You’re just going to have to make this night count for all it’s worth.

Geralt stalks the weight of his body over you, his hands caging you in from how they plant on the mattress below at either side of your head. He stares at you without saying anything. He observes you cautiously, doesn’t move a muscle despite how you’re panting underneath him. It’s because of how wound up your body is, how short of breath you are from chasing and reveling in your high thanks to him and his skillful mouth. A mouth you want to kiss, but there are rules in this, rules that you can tell he knows without having to be told. Just as he’s not your first client, you’re not his first whore. So, you feel a surge of pride at the slick right under his bottom lip, at how it descends to his chin. You wish you could taste his tongue to taste yourself on it having never done that before, but you’ll settle for the next best thing.

Your hands cup his face as they would if they were bringing someone in for a kiss and Geralt allows it. He, and all his power, doesn’t stop you as you guide his head down towards you. He’s puzzled by what you’ll do, quizzical in his expression as you don’t attach your lips, but you do lick along your own lips as you conjure the courage to carry on with your plan. Then, you lap your tongue over your slick, what he missed still on his face. You can hear his knuckles crack from how he tightens his fingers into the sheets below. It’s fucking filthy, and he knows it, you’re sheepish as you fall back down into the bed, staring up at him with doe eyes that he sees right through.

“Wrap your legs around me,” now not necessarily said aloud, but punctuating his sentence in essence with the minacious look he levels you with. You do as you’re told, your legs claiming his torso, and suddenly, the world spins and you’re sprawled on top of him. Geralt grabs a nearby pillow and he maneuvers it under his head, gesturing after to your spread thighs on him.

“You’re going to ride me,” he begins, “You’re going to show me what you know.”

You feel dumbfounded. It’s what led you to the bedroom, but there’s extra pressure at stake. You want to please him as he’s pleased you and now it appears to be a tall order in comparison. You’re not sure how you can rise to the occasion, trembling from how good his tongue felt on you, from how needy he’s rendered you when it should be the other way around.

“But I’m… shaking,” you admit. It’ll hinder your performance. Unlike him, you’re not at full strength and you’ve been blindsided by his prowess.

“I’m aware. You’ll sheath my cock wonderfully,” he reassures you, an encouraging hand on your hip making you believe him. If he praises you like that again, you’ll believe you could fly and leap off a tower if he professes it.

You undo the laces of his trousers and summon your ability to focus on the task without paying mind to your clumsy fingers. He’s patiently watching you from above. It’s conflicting. One, because he’s giving you free reign to dictate the pace and you’re unfamiliar with such a phenomenon. And two, you’ve been told and taught for years that a man should be writhing and squirming to get inside you, that’s what desire is. You fear the possibility of desiring him more than he’s desiring you. Surely, it’s insecurity with someone so experienced, but you’re the one being paid here. You’re striving to honor him, to satisfy him and earn his coin, not make him feel as if he was robbed.

Soon, his laces are undone and you utilize your hand to slip him free of his trousers. He hisses at the contact, his hips slightly shifting into your hand. The girth of him in your palm throbs, a pearly substance dribbling from his tip in thick beads that run down his shaft. You fight the urge to taste him and shuffle your skirts up to align yourself with him. Geralt’s hands find your hips to aid you in lowering yourself down, the fat head of him breaching your entrance, nudging your walls apart past a limit you didn’t know you had. You brace your hands on his chest so you don’t fall forward and gravitate away from the deep stretch his cock’s bending you into. He lets out a grunt as you gradually slide down until he’s at the hilt, your hips rocking enough to create minor adjustments for comfort, for your knees, and curiously, he mutters “fuck” in reaction. Your head snaps up to assess his features and he’s already staring right back at you. Only, his eyebrows are creased and his hands compress the hold they have on your hips. You squeak, your walls hugging him tighter in that instance and he pulses faster, more incessantly. You can almost feel it on your clit.

“You better move… before I move you,” he relents. Finally, a tell that he’s drawn up as tight as you, his control slipping by the seconds.

You do as he wills, your back erect as you sit up tall for him. You lift your hips up and then lower yourself onto him, his cock spearing deep inside with every fall downwards. It’s heaven being split this wide open for Geralt, hearing the obscenities that fall from his lips as you repeatedly sink on him. He’s hot and swollen inside of you and you can feel every ridge of him from how his width pushes up against your tightening walls. You moan to the ceiling as he separates his thighs and outstretches them in the same fashion that he did earlier with you in his lap (well, how different is this, really?) and it causes your own to stretch further. You sink lower by proxy and it catches you so off guard that your upper body hangs forward, one hand on his pectoral, the other on his rib. You have a better view of his face this way, hair strands fall into your vision as you trace his eyes and continue your gyrations. Your mouth falls open as your hips crest back, impaling yourself on his length, watching the pleasure overtake his features as he groans along with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you weren’t ly-... lying,” he sputters, his thumbs finding the junctions under your hip bones that he clutches and tests. Your flesh feels like it’s on fire and you double over, milking his cock without pause, digging your fingernails into his skin and the scar tissue you find collected there at your right hand. You mewl as he ruts his hips up into you, meeting you on the downstroke, jabbing beautifully at that bundle of nerves inside of you that you could never reach with your fingers, much less with other men. “Fuck-fuck, I want to fuck your mouth,” he rambles, discarding your hip from his hand so he could cup your cheek. The image springs to life in your head and you cry out as he cradles your chin, as you continue to desperately fuck yourself on him and corral your hips despite being bent over him.

His thumb traces over your lips, your moan vibrating into his skin. “You’d let me, wouldn’t y-you?” He dips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately latch on with roaring enthusiasm, the tip of your tongue licking the pad. “You’d let me f-fuck your mouth, gods, nngh,” you suck his thumb in tandem with your moving hips, “until I filled it, hm? Until I’ve f-filled it full of m-me.” You have no choice but to moan at the lewdness of it, against his thumb still in your mouth. His fingers tighten on your jaw and you feel like you might float away at this rate, slick on him, lightly coated in perspiration from gliding along his cock. “Just like I’m going to pump y-you full right now,” he growls, removing his thumb and hand so he could push you back by your shoulder.

You sit up on him and take the hint, maneuvering faster on him, humping him with voracity you didn’t know you were capable of. You’re chasing after another high at the same time that you want to deliver him to his. As you busy yourself with your speeding hips and your thighs silently crying out in protest from the strain, you watch Geralt’s hands pushing your skirts away from your center, where the two of you connect. It reminds you of when you were trying to get the key into the lock earlier, frustration in his movement that doesn’t resemble the steel control he had before. Unlike you, however, he doesn’t keep trying until the skirts are in a suitable position for him… he simply tugs and you hear definitive rips resound throughout the room. The fabric is finally out of his way so he could buff his thumb, the same one that was in your mouth, the same one still doused in your saliva, over your keenly sensitive clit. He runs along it with your hip rolls and it’s perfect, satisfying, mind-bending, and then it’s all too fucking much at once.

You croon as you climax, mindlessly rocking your hips through it, and thankfully, Geralt doesn’t move his thumb over your pulsating clit. It’s so stimulated that you know your spine would stutter in reaction. He just keeps it there, nobly letting you orgasm with warmth and security you deserve, driving his hips up to settle his cock deep within you as he cums. Hard. His neck strains as he moans, as he fills you to the brim just like he prophesied moments ago. The flood seeps from where he’s still buried inside, oozing from your outer lips down to his base and pelvic bone. You feel boneless, and that much is shown with how you crumble on his chest, panting in the afterglow of ultimate euphoria. Geralt draws shapes on your back, the thrum of breathing heard as you both come back down together.

You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s not erratically beating like yours is, but the tempo is heavy. Like the heart of a horse.

“Skirts aren’t cheap,” you whisper, frowning as you think of the new slits Geralt made in your attire, right down the middle where you conceal your money maker under. Said money maker who’s currently raw and gushing, beaming with delight of the cock that shreds away her vacancy.

“Hmm.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything. You already know he’s a man of few words. From how short your exchange had been earlier in the tavern, you understand how he likes to get to the point. You’re grateful for it since you loathed the small talk, the flirtatious personality you had to don on for simple-minded suitors who fell into your hands. If you had known of his bluntness, you would have fallen into his lap sooner.

You’re comforted. Oddly so. He pushes your hair away from your shoulder and works his mouth against it. Your eyes slip closed. It tickles, his stubble does, but it’s… it feels different. Geralt is different.

You’re suddenly moaning again as Geralt thrusts up into you. He’s still hard, again proving to you that he’s different because it’s rare for men to have this much stamina, to be hard again after that much stimulation. His strong arms hold you to him and you weakly cast your eyes up at him. He thrusts once more, your head hiding in the crook of his neck as you brokenly mewl for more. More, more, more, you think, and as if he can hear your brain, he snaps his hips up.

“You’re shaking,” he recites, humor in his tone. You gasp as he shifts you to your back, his cock still inside. He hooks your knee up at his hip. “Like a fucking leaf.” He pounds into you, then, with no abandon, your tight channel slick with his cum.

He did warn you he wouldn’t stop.

You’re sitting with your girls, listening as they chatter on and on about their bouts from last night. They’re mostly complaints and usually, that’s how it goes. You join in, they take your side, you all condemn men, and then you laugh. It’s a routine of the morning after. Though, this morning, you’re having trouble focusing on any word coming from Janci’s mouth. You just keep thinking about Geralt, how you woke up distorted and alone in your room. The bed was still warm and it gave you indication that it hadn’t been long since he left. A bag of coin sat in his empty spot and it’s bittersweet because it’s good payment, but it certainly doesn’t compare to the man’s body it replaced. You held it to your naked chest as you recollected the events, much like you’re doing now as Janci speaks, and then dressed so you could deliver it to your madam Grix.

Speaking of the devil, you can see Grix pass by the table out of the corner of your eye.

You realize your name’s been called about four times by Janci and the image of Geralt sliding his tongue over your clit slowly fades away from your mind’s eye. “What was… what was the question?”

There’s a fit of laughter. You know it’s at your expense since you were daydreaming, and you would really like to get back to that, but you wait for it to clear so Janci could fill you in.

“I asked how it went for you. It’s like you disappeared. One second you were alone at the tavern and then none of us heard from you for the rest of the night!”

“Oh, I heard her last night,” Cecil says into her cup, her utterance low, the giggles fleeing from mouths yet again.

You could feel your face burning at the accusation. You don’t have time to defend yourself as a clink of metal resounds on top of the table. A bag of coin sits in front of you, you all look at madam Grix standing there with her usual grimace. She pats your shoulder.

“Your witcher was generous,” she says. The sound of the word witcher ironically ceases all conversation among the girls. They stare at you blankly, no longer in amusement. This is… this is your commission. You just wish Grix didn’t hand it off to you in front of the others. You can just feel their eyes burning on the bag as your own head tries to decipher what the hell a witcher was.

You don’t say anything else, you just reach for the bag, thank madam Grix, and you stow away to your room. You open the bag and place its contents with your other savings. This is not the amount you agreed on, you thought it felt too weighted earlier. It’s more actually, and you’re unsure why madam Grix let you keep it, she’s notoriously greedy. Then, at the bottom of the bag, you find a scrap of paper. It’s in handwriting you don’t recognize, but you know who it belongs to. And it makes you smile.

For your skirts, it reads.

[wicca-wicca-whack]

Care

Gordon Malloy x Reader

Word Count: 3059

Now Featuring PT 2!

“You two haven't even talked since your first month here!”

This was an argument you and Talla have had nearly daily for the past month.

“We've messaged,” you remind her. “We're both Union members on fleet ships, we don't have time to call.”

“When's the last time he sent you something first?”

“Not this again, come on.” You sigh, looking away from your science console. “I don't keep track of who messages who first.”

“Well, you showed me last time we were all over at yours drinking wine,” she informs, looking a little smug. “He hasn't even initiated a conversation with you for nearly a year!”

You consider, briefly, smacking your head against the nearest wall. Of course wine-drunk you had shown her, probably wanting to prove a point you'd completely failed to prove.

“Relationships aren't about who sends who a message first.”

“But they are about communication and showing you care for each other.”

“We communicate.”

“No, you communicate. He can't even bother to ask you about your day.”

You sigh, returning your gaze to your console. “Shouldn't you be on the bridge right now?”

No sooner than you say that does Captain Mercer call her over the comms, and she gives you her version of a pout as she assures him she's on her way, moving quickly from the science lab.

The issue is that she isn't technically wrong- you and your boyfriend had been drifting significantly since you moved postings from the small science vessel to the Orville. When he found out you took the posting, he'd gone so far as to accuse you of acting like you were too good for the ship you'd met on. That wasn't it at all. The Achilles had been a great ship- great crew, interesting missions… but you wanted adventure as well, and the Achilles was only equipped for short expeditions. When you'd heard the Orville was working on putting its own anthropology team together, you'd put in an application immediately. You were a small team, and, to your shock, they'd placed you at its head. According to Commander Grayson, not many Union anthropologists with more than a couple of years of experience were willing to transfer to a new team. It ended up being not only good for you, but a good career opportunity, a chance to prove you could lead. Kevin didn't see it that way. Kevin acted like you were some sort of traitor, or like you were only thinking of yourself. Even just thinking about it really downed your mood, so you didn't, returning your attention to your work.

It's a few hours later, in the mess, that Talla and Commander Grayson sit down with you, and the Commander gives you a kind of amused look. 

 “Talla was just telling me your boyfriend sucks.”

You can't help the exasperated sigh that escapes you. “Commander-”

“Please, we're not working, and we're gossiping? Kelly is fine.” She waves a hand at you, sipping on her drink. 

You hesitate, but nod. “Okay, Kelly. Talla is totally blowing things out of proportion.”

“I mean, does he text you first? Like ever?” She leans back in her chair.

“He doesn’t have to, I’m more than willing to-”

“You guys talking about the shitty boyfriend?” Lieutenant Malloy takes a seat beside you, and you could scream. Absolutely the worst person who could decide to plop down into this conversation.

“You know about the boyfriend?” Kelly looks shocked, and you stab at your food.

“Know about him? Dude, we’ve met. The guy is a piece of work.”

“Guy is still my boyfriend, dickwad.”

He snorts, loud, unbothered by your barb, which irritates you more as the Captain and Chief LaMarr take a seat at your table. “Kevin D’Acunto is a major asshole. He’s known for being a piece of work and a total chick-hater.”

“He’s not a chick-hater, he’s-”

“Your boyfriend, yeah, I know.” He rolls his eyes, hard, and you scoff as Kelly looks between the two of you.

“Point of contention?”

“If you’re asking me if Malloy consistently badmouths my boyfriend, then yes.” Your fork goes down, no longer very hungry. “Excuse me.”

You take your food to the synthesizer to recycle it, moving from the mess as quickly as you can. You figure, screw it, fine. You’ll prove them wrong. Kev cares, and you’ll prove it, stop messaging him first, let him prove that he’s just as crazy about you as you are about him. 

You wait patiently, making yourself a snack at home, watching vintage movies on your viewscreen… getting ready for bed. You can’t help but feel like, well, obviously he must just be busy. The Achilles was a busy ship. Things happen, you can’t count all the late nights you’d spent at the lab. You give him a pass, expecting to wake up to a message in the morning.

Except there is no message in the morning. Your mood is soured from the jump, tugging on your uniform, grabbing a to-go coffee, and making your way to the lab as fast as you can.

There’s no message when you get home that night either, or by the time you go to bed.

The cycle continues for a month before Gordon confronts you.

“You’ve been such a bitch lately, what’s going on?”

You can't help the scoff that comes from you. “Fuck off, Malloy.”

Talla takes up on your left side, pulling you from Malloy and down another hall. “You are kind of… irritated lately,” she tries to be more polite about it.

You sigh, loud, running your hand through your hair. “I haven’t heard from Kev in, like, a month.”

Her steps falter. “What?”

“I stopped messaging him first, to… prove a point to you guys, saying he’s a dick and doesn’t care about me.” You pause in front of your quarters. “Apparently he is a dick who doesn’t care about me.”

She scoffs, punching in a code to open your door and pushing you inside, moving for your synthesizer. “Lieutenant Keyali to Commander Grayson.”

Your protests go unheard. “Grayson. What’s up?”

“We’re having a pity party with our favorite female science officer. You coming?”

“On my way as we speak. Grayson out.”

“It’s not a pity party,” you try, watching the Xelayan woman synthesize what must be a gallon of red wine.

“Okay, a breakup party.”

“We didn’t break up.”

“Oh, please. You don't speak even a little in like a month, you’re broken up. Either way, it’s a reason to drink!” She holds up three wine glasses as your door dings, and she lets in the Commander.

“What’s the reason for the pity party?”

“Well, the Lieutenant wanted to prove us wrong, that her boyfriend is super caring and great,” she sees your frown, “which is totally valid! But she hasn’t heard from the little scumbag in a whole month.”

She gives you a shocked look, and you shrink as she moves to join you on the couch, pouring big glasses of wine for the three of you. “He’s not worth a pity party, you should celebrate. Sounds like a total jackass.”

You sigh, taking a long sip. “He didn’t even want me to take this posting. He’s probably trying to give me the silent treatment.”

“For a month? Come on, if he cared he’d miss you too much to let it go on for so long.”

You sigh, watching Talla get music on that she likes, something slower, like old R&B, and you roll your eyes. “You guys are so annoying.”

“We’re your friends right now, excuse you.” She points a finger at you, settling into your chair. “And it’s only half for your ridiculously plush furniture.”

“Yeah, seriously, what is going on with this?” Kelly pats the arm of your couch. “Soft as hell.”

“I like nice things,” you defend, waving them off. “I like soft furniture.”

Talla takes a long drink before she speaks, grinning at you. “What about soft guys?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m just saying… you’re single now. Maybe time to start looking.”

“I think Malloy’s got a thing for you,” Kelly offers, giggling a little.

“A thing for pushing my buttons, maybe.” You swear your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Maybe that’s his turn-on,” she teases, and you scoff, loud.

“Well it's not mine, so he’s going about it all wrong.”

She cackles, loudly, and you relax a little more. “Well, Gordon really isn’t the go-to guy on how to get women to like you, you know?”

Talla smothers her own laugh. “No, he so is not.”

“We don’t talk like that, so I wouldn’t have any idea about any of that.”

“He’s sweet!”

“To who? Not me!”

“You know, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in a long time, he’s re-learning how to talk to women.”

The night continues on, more or less like this. You, rebuffing every attempt at they toss to shine some kind of positive, sweet light on Gordon.

But in the morning, you can’t help thinking about him like some kind of cute, ginger puppy dog, and you curse everything around you that two women could change your opinion so fast.

Things kind of… shift from there. You don't mean for them to. But when Gordon makes little barbs- at least the ones not about Kevin- you're not as rude. You find yourself dressing a little more… revealing when you know he's going to be somewhere you're going to be after work. But you didn't go out of your way to be somewhere just because he would be. 

Sure, Gordon was attractive. That was never something you doubted. From the moment you got on board, you found him cute. But he was a dick, and you were in a relationship. But now it's been four months since you last heard from Kev, and looking back, you can't believe you dragged the relationship out for so long. It was kind of ridiculous, really. The news broke out last month about your lack of contact, and Gordon had been significantly sweeter since- probably trying not to rub salt in the wound, Kelly had told you. Which was shockingly polite, given that you'd expected him to pester you with ‘I told you so's. Another reason to tally onto your count of reasons Gordon may not be terrible.

You peek around the simulator, sipping on your drink. LaMarr’s birthday party. You, for one, were shocked to get an invite, but it looks like he invited just about anyone he shared more than one positive conversation with, including a Lieutenant you'd often seen both in engineering and subbing for navigation on the bridge, engaging in what could easily be a flirty conversation with the Captain.

“He's, like, totally into her, it's insane.” You almost jump at Gordon's voice at your side, blinking at him. 

“You scared me.”

“Dunno how. I didn't walk over here all quiet.” He gestures to his friend and the woman down the way. “Good for him, they're actually talking.”

You snort, peering at his drink when he gets it. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What, no plans to flirt with one of the… 20 women LaMarr invited?”

“I don't really flirt,” he tells you, sounding a little bummed. “I'm cool, thanks.” You can see his eyes dart to your chest, but you save him the embarrassment of pointing it out. “Hey, I heard you totally laid a guy out because he grabbed your ass at your last posting, that true?”

You snort, an ugly sound, but Gordon's face lights up. “Ensign Barcus. Yeah, I did. Total prick, did it to women all over the ship.” You look into your empty glass. “I just about broke his nose.”

He chuckles, glancing at you for a moment. “Probably deserved it.”

“Definitely, yeah. I mean, come on, most of the scummy guys I'd met would never even try that outside of a bar.”

He hesitates, and you can see He wants to ask something, so you wait. Patiently. He fiddles with his glass, his hands, the zippers on his jacket, his hair.

“What's up?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you wanna ask me something. Spit it out, dude.”

“...I also heard you used to, uh… dance while you were at Point. For fun. Is that true?”

You flush, embarrassed. “Where'd you hear that from?”

He shrugs, obviously not wanting to give up his source.

“I… did some dancing at a nearby… gentleman's club,” you shrug. 

“Is that what we're calling them? Gentleman's clubs?”

You reach to whack his arm, and he laughs, holding his hands up defensively. “Okay, okay!”

He orders you another drink- you think he must have been watching you before, since he doesn't ask what you were drinking, but manages to get you the same thing. You think it's kind of sweet, if not just a little weird. Gordon rides that line between the two a lot, you hear.

You thank him softly, and he smiles, waving it off. “You talk to the birthday boy yet?”

You snort. “Just when I came in. He's a little busy with… every available woman who's interested, I think.”

He snorts. “John is pretty good with women like that, I guess.”

“You guess? Aren't you friends, wouldn't you know?”

“I really try not to hear about it.” He scrunches his face up, and you giggle. “Sometimes he just says too much.”

“Oversharer?”

“Big time, yeah.” He takes a long drink, rolling his eyes. 

“I thought all guys like to overshare.”

He just gives you a look. “I thought that was a chick thing, you know, chatting with friends about your boyfriend.”

“Maybe it's a human thing,” you shrug, playing with your hair.

Before he can say much more, Talla is on your side, grabbing another drink and pushing you against Gordon's side, making you squeak as your drink splashes your top. “Talla!”

“What?” Her eyes drop to your wet top. “Oh, shit, I'm sorry.”

You sigh, drinking what's left of your drink. “It's fine. I should probably head out anyway, it's late.” You smell like alcohol, and God knows you're not gonna leave, change, and come back.

“I can walk you,” Gordon offers, knocking his drink back like a true alcoholic.

“You don't have to do that, it's your friends' party.”

“He won't miss me.” He gestures to LaMarr, saddled up on a couch chatting with a couple of women. “Come on.” He nods you towards the door, and you catch a glance of Talla's shit-eating grin, and you know damn well she did it on purpose, so you shoot her a glare as you walk out with the ginger man. 

The walk is shockingly quiet. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Gordon was nervous. You keep yourself busy, pulling the neck of your top away from you, annoyed by the sticky, drying alcohol. You can see him looking, more than once, for more than just a couple of seconds, but you don't comment, stopping at your door and raising a brow at him.

“Well I guess I'll see-”

“Why don't you come inside?” You blame the alcohol, or maybe Talla's constant goading ever since she realized you were warming up to the man, for the question, and he looks appropriately shocked. 

“Me?”

“I don't see anyone else in this hall,” you offer, exaggeratedly looking left to right. 

“Right… uh… yeah,” he shrugs a little, and you reach to snag him by the jacket sleeve and tug him in with you. 

He's anxious- of course he is, given he's never been inside your quarters, but you wave him towards your couch before heading into your quarters to wipe down and change, coming back out in something comfy and maybe a little cute.

“That jacket can't be comfortable. It's got, like, eight zippers.”

“...Twelve. Not including the,” he gestures to the actual, functional zipper. 

“...What? Twelve?”

“It's got twelve zippers, yeah.” He unzips it, carefully shrugging it off.

“That's a ridiculous amount of zippers.”

“Looks cool though.”

“You look like a final fantasy character or something.”

He snorts, and you move to get yourself and drink and him a beer before plopping beside him, handing it over.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, picking at his jeans as you move to put something on the viewscreen.

“It's no problem.” You shrug, watching him hesitantly drape his arm over the back of the couch behind you. 

You hesitate for a few beats before leaning into his side a little more, feeling him tense. 

The two of you sit like that for a while- you can barely pay attention to the show you put on, brain focused on the warm body beside you, practically radiating off him. You can see him looking at you repeatedly, eyes coasting over your face and your body. The tension is thick, you feel like you could touch it. You're two attractive people, apparently attracted to each other, alone, sitting close on your couch.

You decide to bulldoze through the tension, pulling up and grabbing his shirt to pull him into you, kissing him a little rougher than you mean to. He stalls, and then one of his hands is on the small of your back as he groans. You tug him closer, nipping at his lip, and he sighs against you, nails digging into your top as he flounders to put his beer down so he can tangle his hand into your hair, your own arms wrapping around his neck as you fall back against the arm of the couch, tugging him with.

He pulls back as your viewscreen begins pinging with a call, and you both start at the name plastered over it.

Kevin D’Acunto.

You have a short internal debate as Gordon slowly parts from you, and you can't quite see his face, but from what Kelly has told you, you can guess that he thinks you’re gonna shoo him away.

You hold him close to you as you answer, unphased by Kev’s shocked face. You can hear Gordon say your name, a little panicked, but you ignore him, just hanging up the call and pulling the ginger man into another kiss, which he returns immediately.

You’ll deal with the backlash in the morning, but right now, you’d rather start a new relationship with someone who gives a damn.

[winter-soldier-101]

I loved you once! Part 3 fin

Word count: 773

“Aemond I need you to not be angry at what you’re about to see”(Y/N) tells Aemond as they make their way to their room.

“Why would I be angry?” Aemond asks (Y/N) as she opens the door and he sees Aegon sitting in the corner of their room.

“(Y/N) what the fuck is he doing here?” Aemond asks you.

“Brother calm down, she was just as surprised as you and I want to meet my son, that is why I am here!” Aegon tells Aemond.

“Tyland is not your son, he is my son!” Aemond yells at Aegon.

“No he is my son I brought him into this world alone and I love that you treat him like your own son Aemond and I love that about you but he is not your son and Aegon you missed his whole life he does not know you and he will never know you as his father.” (Y/N) tells both brothers.

“I’m sorry to interrupt my Prince but the children are asking for you both” Talla tells you and Aemond.

“Children?” Aegon says while looking at you.

“Yes we had more children after Tyland, Aemond and I talked and decided to be more and then we had little Daemon then little Alicent and now we’re expecting a new little dragon” (Y/N) tells Aemond and Aegon as she leaves them to go check on the children.

The Throne Room

“Lady Alicent and Otto Hightower please bring them forward” Daemon tells the guards as they bring them forward in front of the masses.

“You both are being charged with treason for trying to put Aegon on the Iron Throne over Rhaenyra the rightful heir”Daemon says.

“King Viserys wanted Aegon to be King, he said it himself!” Otto yells out.

“You dumb cunt he was talking about Aegon’s dream, not your drunk of a cunt grandson!” Daemon yells at Otto.

“Rhaenyra would kill my children if she became Queen!” Alicent cries out.

“I would never kill my siblings Alicent” Rhaenyra says to her.

“Otto Hightower you are sentenced to death and Lady Alicent you are to return to Oldtwon and if you wish to visit your children you will be accompanied by one of our trusted guards” Daemon says.

Aemond grabbed your hand as you walked into the throne room with Aegon right behind you and your children.

“I see Aegon has returned” Daemon says sarcastically and looks at (Y/N).

“I came back to be with my family and swear to my sister the Queen, our father’s chosen heir” Aegon says, bending the knee to Rhaenyra.

“I am happy to see you brother and I thank you for bending the knee but why come back now after being gone so long?” Rhaenyra asks Aegon.

“I was a drunk and I had sex with anyone whether they wanted to or not I have bastards out there and I needed to be free of my mother and controlling grandfather so I left when father died so I wouldn’t be used as a pawn in this game I never wanted to be King mother and grandfather did.” Aegon tells Rhaenyra.

Years Later

(Y/N) looks at Aemond and their seven children riding their dragons high in the sky as Tyland lands his dragon and runs to you.

“Mother I’ve missed you” Tyland says as he hugs (Y/N) Tyland rules over House Lannister with his wife and now son (Y/N) was so proud of him he was strong and kind and a fearless warrior like Aemond.

“I’ve missed you to my little lion” (Y/N) says as she kisses him cheeks.

“Mother I’m a man full and grown” Tyland says and he smiles down at you.

“I know but you are my first born and you will forever be my little lion” (Y/N) tells him.

(Y/N) looks on and with Tyland by her side as she thinks “Would all this be different if she would have left with Aegon after the trials would she have been as happy as she is would she have her beautiful and loving children? (Y/N) think of Aegon most days as he is gone now he left after (Y/N) told him no she would not leave with him to be free of everything and everyone she loves Aemond and her children too much to just leave them.”

“Are you alright my love?” Aemond asks you.

“Yes, I'm just happy to have you and the children back home safely, my love.” (Y/N) says as she kisses Aemond softly and smiles up at him.

Taglist: @immyowndefender @papichulo120627 @lunamoonbby @jaidashampagneproblems @lipgloss05 @namelesslosers @hc-geralt-23 @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @croatianprincess

[fireluc-loml]

Challenging insecurity

♪ Synopsis: That night, as the moon painted shadows in the room, [name] felt trapped in her insecurities. Her thoughts focused on a detail that seemed enormous to her: her small breasts. Although she knew that her partner, Diluc, accepted her as she was, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with herself.

♪ Pairing: F! Reader X Diluc ragnvindr

¡TW!: Afab, Insecurities, mention of psychologist, low self-esteem, mention of beauty standards, angst (?) & fluff.

READER'S FEELINGS

[name] had a hard time seeing a part of her body, her breasts, the most unsightly thing that she could ever had.

Perhaps because of those times when she saw women who were confident and had a good body, but when it came to looking at herself she felt uncomfortable in the greatest way possible, there was no way she was attractive or even pretty like other women. [Name] began to reconsider the idea of wearing bras with more padding to be just like these women. She wanted so much to wear necklines and make herself look great, but she often wears clothes to hide her figure.

Since she was a teenager, she saw how her classmates and friends developed even more, leaving her behind, so she got used to wearing covered clothes, but the time when her insecurities jumped out the most was when she was intimate with his partner, She was sure that his husband didn't care, but she did care about being "pretty".

FEELINGS OF DILUC

Diluc doesn't really care and wouldn't pay attention to that, he's used to some families or noble women trying to get close to him for his money and status, So when he met you he definitely didn't have any problems about how your body was like, after all it doesn't define how much you are worth and how much you deserve to be loved.

Diluc te ama más que a nada y una talla no iba a hacer este cambio, tus senos eran parte de tu cuerpo y de tu maravillosa tú , pero cuando Diluc comenzó a notar estos pequeños hábitos que surgían de ti, se detuvo a pensar por un momento. : ¿Qué te pasó al mirarte así en el espejo? ¿Por qué no usaste la ropa que tanto querías usar? ¿Qué le pasaba a tu cuerpo para causar esa reacción?

That night, as the moon painted shadows in the room, [name] felt trapped in her insecurities. Her thoughts focused on a detail that seemed enormous to her: her small breasts. Although she knew that her partner, Diluc, accepted her as she was, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with herself.

She had found a perfect dress to wear but when she measured it she didn't look the least bit "attractive" compared to the model in the magazine, she burst into tears after thinking about how much disgust his body generated in her because, she couldn't even see it in a mirror…

Diluc entered the room while you were suffering your crisis, the first thing that popped into your mind was embarrassment, however his reaction took you out of your thoughts, He turned to you and asked if there was something wrong. The next decision you made took a lot of courage to make, but you talked to him about how you felt and how your body was affecting you mentally.

Diluc was not very good at managing his emotions or even these situations, but he did not hesitate to focus on how you felt, he listened to you carefully and gave you a hug.

"Society often sets unrealistic standards, which can influence how you feel. Your body is different and ultimately more beautiful in its own way."

Diluc undoubtedly asked if you needed to go to a psychologist, to which you agreed after thinking about it for a while, This helped you control your emotions and Diluc was even aware of the sessions and how they made you feel. After all, just because he was a man busy with his work didn't mean he would neglect his partner.

diluc started looking for ways to make you feel good and mainly suggested that you go on trips together, Not to escape from feelings but to learn lessons together and so that you could finally try on the clothes you wanted so much.

You learned to improve your feelings, there are still times when your insecurity jumps out, after all there are many standards that had affected you throughout your life, But at least you know that your husband would be there to provide support as much as he can and maybe that's why you love him.

REMEMBER: Society puts the pressure and burden on women's shoulders to have incredibly unrealistic bodies for everyone's taste, However, you should not let yourself be carried away by these types of opinions after all, your body is unique and is uniquely yours. I am aware that you have actually hated your body several times when looking at yourself or when trying on clothes, but you should never let anyone criticize your body, as it does not belong to them, feel safe, I know it costs a lot and always remember to stay with those people who know how to value you and your beautiful body!

//what should i do next? //

(English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any errors)

[tallatonk]

FOREVERS CALLING BAGHERA A LONELY CATT LADY WITH 50 CATS KVNJKELRGBNJK

baghera: you know life isnt all about relationships, right?

forever: stop trying to push your bitchless cat lady agenda on me

[blisterinballista]

i keep forgetting how i write

[igglemouse]

Episode 3 - Heart of Combat

The man took a seat at the table with the comfort that this was his home. He invited me to sit down and have a conversation but I still didn't appreciate that this stranger was in my house acting as if I were the guest.

"To answer the question you didn't ask, you can call me Darwin. I'm a recruiter for the S.A.H," and that was something I had heard of before, just a night or so ago actually. "That is also how I know your name. We keep tabs on....interesting people, you could say."

His answers only bring more questions. "What does that stand for, S.A.H, I think I've been sent an email about it?”

"Supernatural Association of Hunters," he says with pride but unfortunately for him the name only brings more confusion. "Yes, I see you are not a true believer. That's ok, you will be by the end of this week, I assure you."

"Ok," he does have my interest, just a little bit, but he has it. “This...organization, you call it, association, whatever. What do you want with me? Explicitly."

"Have you been paying attention to the news recently, Talla," ugh, he's the type to answer a question with another question. "Yes, of course you have. Any ways, we have reason to believe there is supernatural activity going on in this small little town."

"What kind of activity are we talking about here?"

"Vampiric activity mainly but we would not rule out other causes."

"Ok." What else am I to say to that? The man believes in stories, fiction, and nonsense. "I'm not interested. Thank you for coming and if you break into my house again I will have you arrested."

"I understand," he doesn't, I can tell by the smug smirk on his lips. "I'll be seeing you soon, Talla...and I do hope sincerely, for your sake at least, no one else breaks into your home because I assure you they will not be friendly," with that he gives a wink towards Loma and makes his leave.

Episode List - Next

[theorvilleincorrectquotes]

Talla: *on the phone with Bortus* I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit.

Bortus: You’re pulling Oreos apart and shaving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you.

Talla: Maybe.

[fallin4fiction]

Struck by Love Gen 1 : Time with the Twins

While Aakhil and Nalani are celebrating their new engagement( and the fact that Nalani is also pregnant with Aakhul’s third kid) it’s a good time to focus on the teens.

Fatima and Fez are a part of the teens club and they use their playable powers to try to hook up their fellow teens with each other. (Aakhil is in this shot for moral support)

Aakhil tried to let his kids know he hasn’t forgotten them and tries to give Fez the Woohoo talk during breakfast when the kid is just trying to eat his leftover vegetable dumplings in peace.

The kids’ mom Fariha, surprisingly wants to spend time with the kids and invites them out to the Soice festival. Sadly, she doesn’t really join them and just stays out in front of Planet Honey Pop the whole night.

She’s such a cool mom, she doesn’t even care that her daughter is baked.

At prom, Fez had Ash as a friendly date and Fatima went stag. She at least got a chance to dance with someone though. (Duane Talla)

Fez voted for his sister as Prom Royalty.

Fatima seemed to be so popular after getting Prom Royalty that she was invited out to the Ruins for a party. She used it as an opportunity to meet her teen neighbor, Daria and hook her up with Jacob Volkov.

Fatima and Fez are now A grade students and their father is getting married and having their younger half- sibling any day now. Will Aakhil be able to have a wedding and squeeze in some time with his older kids before they age up?