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theclairvoyage · 7 months

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Centrifugation: Chapter 1

plasmadonor!Joel x f!reader

You’re the star phlebotomist at the local plasma center, and the job has been increasingly mundane as of late… until a new and handsome Texan donor comes to the center and changes that, and the rest your life.

Series Masterlist

Series warnings:

AU, M/F, Age gap (20 years)-reader’s YOB is 1995 (purely coincidental lolol), eventual SMUT, blood, needles, & plasma talk (nothing too graphic, I promise!), a bit of blasphemy, criticism of religion, mentions of death, divorce, angst, fluffity fluff fluff, alcohol consumption, violence. Individual chapters will have specific warnings.

FYI – this work contains criticisms of religion and reader is atheist/agnostic. Feel free to scroll if this offends you. If you decide to read, remember that even if you are religious, this is not an attack on you, but rather ideology. And remember the tenets of religious freedom. Everyone has the right to believe – and NOT to believe – in the things you do.

Plasma Center UrbanDict:

Stick = venipuncture

PR = permanent rejection, aka permanent deferral

Reception = where donors have vitals taken to determine if they are suitable to donate

Donor Floor = where the magic happens, baby! Where donation occurs, aka sticks with big 17G needles

Processing = where units of plasma are sampled and frozen

This is my first ever fic! Excited to share all of it with you. I'm new to posting this kind of stuff on Tumblr, so please forgive rookie formatting and whatnot. Hope you enjoy! As of 03/10/24, I have 6 chapters written - I'm juggling my writing with finishing my MPH degree, so my schedule might be a little spotty until mid-May.

Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: blood, needles, & plasma talk, light violence.

WC: 3.7k

Friday, October 15th | 0755

You turn into the parking lot at the plasma center, a little later than your usual 10 minutes early. Your shift is at 8, so you don’t have much time to walk to the center, clock in, grab your coat and face shield and get to work. Thankfully, the parking lot is just across the street. As soon as you step out of your car, downtown Omaha greets you with the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and fall air, along with the sounds of the city buses and commuters chugging along.

It’s a nice morning. Living in Nebraska means you get to experience the peaks and valleys of all four seasons, and during fall, this means the leaves of what few trees are in the downtown area are painted lovely hues of orange, yellow, and even red – if you’re lucky enough to find a scarlet or pin oak tree.

The plasma center parking lot is shared with employees and donors, and it’s packed this morning. Not a great sign. You walk up to the back employee entrance and punch in the code. The keypad beeps and lights up green and you pull open the ages-old, heavy-as-hell door and make your way to the break room.

The donor waiting area is just outside the break room door, and you can tell by how full it is that it’s going to be a long day, confirming your earlier suspicions in the parking lot. Somebody definitely called in, you think. Great. Punching in the same code as before, you enter the break room, throw your stuff in your locker, and clock in.

As soon as you’re on the Donor Floor, donned with your white lab coat, blue nitrile gloves, and face shield, one of your best phlebotomists and good friend Keri approaches, looking flustered as hell.

“Jesus, thank fuck you’re here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and raising her eyebrows at you. She smooths back her frizzy hair and sets down her face shield on the counter next to you.

“Are we short today, or did corporate send out some bonus texts to half of Omaha?” you say, checking the Donor Queue on the computer. 15 people waiting, average wait time of 43 minutes. Fucking clean up time, I guess.

“Two call-outs, but they’re newbies, so it wouldn’t have mattered, really,” she says. “Definite yes on the bonus texts. Regulars are all pissed off because they didn’t get any.” You roll your eyes and sigh. To get more donors in, the company you work for has been sending bonus texts to donors that haven’t been in in a while, which really ticks off the regular, twice-a-week donors. It’s all about meeting that liters budget.

“Where do you need me? Breaks need to be sent?” you ask her. You’re the lead phlebotomist, but you always check in with whoever opened before you make any decisions. Keri nods. “Send Blake to break, he’s got an open section now and we’ve got to get these wait times down.” You grab your mobile phlebotomy device and head that way.

Each phlebotomist can have a maximum of 6 donors in their section. You see Blake cleaning up the machine from his last disconnect, leaving you an empty section. “You can head to break, I’ll take over here,” you say, helping him wipe down the now-empty donor bed.

“Thanks… really happy that you’re here. It’s been a shit show today,” he says, walking away from the section toward the break room. You groan and head up to the front near the waiting area, grab a chart, and start climbing the mountain.

Thursday, October 15th | 1230

The morning turned out to be an absolute disaster. You quickly filled up your section once you sent Blake to break, apologizing to every donor you sat for the wait times. Most were understanding. There were a few that gave you an eye roll or a shrug. A few left the center, not wanting to be late for work. The fall is generally a busy time at the center, with people seeking extra money for football tailgates and games, college students needing extra money for just about everything, and parents stocking up early on holiday savings.

Thankfully, Keri, you, and the rest of the morning Donor Floor crew knocked the Queue down to 3 donors and wait times down to 10 minutes. Once the last morning break was done, they came over and sent you to your lunch. Delighted, you took off your sweaty coat and hung it up, washed your hands at the sink by the coat rack, and headed to the break room.

Before you’re able to punch in the door code, a deep, velvety voice stops you.

“Uh, miss? Can you point me in the right direction?”

You turn and look in the direction of the voice and see a taller man with dark, silvery-streaked curly hair, tanned skin and pensive brown eyes staring at you. He’s donning a red flannel that squeezes his broad shoulders and ropy arm muscles, and dark wash Levi’s that have the outline of his wallet imprinted in the front right pocket. He’s definitely a blue-collar guy, not unlike a lot of the current donors. Must be a new donor, you think. Damn, he looks good. You feel a little zap in your chest, not unlike the fingerstick donors get during screening.

“Hi! Are you a new donor?” You ask, turning on your customer service voice in hopes of calming your nerves. You step back from the door and walk toward him. He’s got a small white paper slip in hand, which tells you he needs his veins checked, so he must be new.

“Yes ma’am, need someone ‘ta look at my veins. Been here before, but it’s been a long time,” he says, watching you approach him and giving you the once-over. Twice-over. Your pulse quickens. His voice is like icing, dripping with a sweet Southern accent and mushing your insides. You smile and take the paper from him, hoping that you aren’t blushing.

“Roll up your sleeves for me and let’s take a look,” you say, watching him roll up the sleeves of his red flannel. He’s got thick, veiny forearms that are tanned and covered with freckles. He wears a watch on his left wrist that you assume hasn’t been removed in years, judging by the pure white skin peeking underneath. His hands are big and scarred. Definitely works with his hands, you think. He has a small, circle-shaped scar on his right arm near the venipuncture site, so he was telling the truth about donating plasma before. You grab a tourniquet hanging on the cabinet near the chart area, wrap it on his upper arm, and feel. His veins are huge and muscular, and you realize you didn’t need the tourniquet in the first place. Rookie mistake.

“Guess I really don’t need this,” you say, removing the tourniquet and feeling his ropy veins with your index finger. His skin is warm under your clammy finger. He chuckles. “Heard that one before,” he says. You laugh and make eye contact with him, noticing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his salt and pepper beard. His gaze is amiable and filled with something else you can’t quite pinpoint, and your stomach twists. You look away before you can decipher it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the stick,” you say, and he laughs. “Are you hydrated? Had a good meal in the last hour or two?” You ask, writing your name on the vein check slip and circling “Pass.” You see the name Joel Miller written at the top.

“Yes ma’am, I do a lot of workin’ outside and with my hands, so I know better,” he says, confirming your earlier assumption. His voice is sending a wave of tingles from your ears to your neck, and you feel goosebumps start to erupt in their pathway.

“Good man, Joel,” you say, noticing him perk up at you saying his name, “Take this back to the front desk and we’ll get you processed as quickly as we can.” He nods, gives you a handsome-as-fuck lopsided smile, and walks back to the front. You head back to the break room and turn to glance at him once more to find that he's already looking at you. Fuck, you think, looking back at the door. Don’t need a hot donor making me feel nervous like this. He’s older than you, but he might be the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen. You can only imagine how homely you look, clad in your scrubs and sweaty from the morning hustle and bustle.

You see every part of humanity at your job: young and old, foreign and domestic, all races and ethnicities, handsome and near homeless. There have been a few men that have caught your eye, and a few that you’ve met up with outside of the center, but none like this one. As tedious and mundane as the job can be, it’s the people that make it exciting, especially attractive ones. Well, hopefully he passes screening so I can see him on the Donor Floor, you think, contemplating what you’re going to get for lunch in the short time that you have.

Thursday, October 15th | 1430

Your break went by too fast. You decided on some fast-food place just across the street from the center. It’s good and cheap, but you know the greasy food is going to put you in a late-afternoon lull. Oh well. After you got back, the lobby was still relatively empty, so you started working on doing the monthly machine cleanings in the meantime.

The plasmapheresis machines are complicated and like everything else in the plasma center, they come with lots of rules and regulations. You’re a seasoned pro, though, so the cleaning and documentation are a breeze. You’re heading over to clean the last of the machines in the third row of the Donor Floor when you see a familiar, handsome head of dark salt-and-pepper curls walk behind Keri to one of the donor beds in the first row. He smiles at you as he lies on the donor bed, and you feel your cheeks heat and curl up into a smile of their own. Get a fucking grip. You’re relieved that Keri is taking care of him, because you’re nervous just seeing him in your work area. You can only imagine how shaky your hands would be with a needle if you were the one sticking him.

While cleaning the machines in the third row, you periodically look over at Joel and Keri. Keri is great with the donors, and it’s evident when you see Joel laughing with her. Each time you look up, he’s either already looking at you or looks up right after you do. You try to play it off like you’re scanning over all the donors, making sure everything is going as it should, but the sweat sheen forming on your face and neck betray you.

You see the light on his machine turn green, indicating he’s been stuck and is running smoothly. You imagine what it would’ve been like to feel his veins again, feeling his warm, tan skin underneath your fingers… and underneath other things, like—

“Oh my god, that man is such a charmer… and asked about you at least three times,” Keri states, snapping you out of your horny daydream. Your eyes widen and you turn so he can’t see your face from where he’s seated.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” You hiss, making both of you giggle. “What was he saying?”

“Oh, nothing much, just asking what the cute girl that checked his veins was doing all the way over here,” she smirks. “He used to donate here over 25 years ago when the center first opened up. Can you believe he’s that old? He does NOT look like it.” Odd, you think. He didn’t sound like he was from here when you spoke to him earlier. Wait, did he say I was cute? Blushing at his remark about your appearance, you remember the scar on his arm and think he’s probably telling the truth. “Wow, he looks good. How old is he?” Keri pulls him up on her mobile phlebotomy handheld and you see he was born in 1975. Damn. 20 years older than you.

Before you and Keri can gush further about Joel, the front door slams shut, echoing throughout the center and catching everyone off-guard. You watch as one of the younger regular donors, Cedric, storms past Reception and the donor waiting area over to the Donor Floor front desk, near where you checked Joel’s veins earlier. He practically spits your name, his brows pinched in a rage.

“Cedric, is everything alright?” You ask, approaching the front desk slowly. The once-noisy Donor Floor is quiet, save for the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines. Donors not wearing headphones are anxiously watching the front desk. You give Cedric the once-over and notice that his arm wrap is soaked with blood, and some of it has gotten on his white shirt and shorts and the floor around him. First rule of donating: Never wear white to a plasma center, dude.

“Does it fucking look alright? My arm wasn’t wrapped right and now I have blood everywhere!” he fumes. The entire Donor Floor is watching, including Joel and poor Blake, who must’ve disconnected Cedric. Blake approaches tentatively, tail between his legs, but you put your hand up to him, saying I’ll take care of this. Blake gives you a thankful nod and tiptoes back to his section.

“Cedric, I’m sorry about that. Come over to the sink and I’ll rewrap it for you,” you say, putting a fresh pair of gloves on. “Keri, can you clean up the blood spots with bleach, please?” You ask. She nods and grabs a Clorox bottle near the front desk, putting her face shield on and quickly walking around Cedric to search for the path of blood droplets. Cedric raises his voice again.

“Not good enough. I need that kid fired for his incompetence!” he points aggressively at Blake, flinging some blood droplets on the arm of your coat and on the front desk.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Cedric. Blake is a great employee. We can fix this. Let’s get you cleaned up, and maybe we can compensate you a little extra on your next donation,” you offer. But Cedric isn’t having it. He rips off the arm wrap and gauze and throws them at you while screaming expletives. The bloodied wrap nearly hits your face shield. Oh, hell no. He’s a long-term donor, so he’s probably clean, but it’s too close for comfort.

“Blake, call Trina and call the cops. Get this guy out of here. Cedric, don’t ever come back to this place,” you calmly instruct, walking backwards to find a biohazard container a safe distance from Cedric, never turning away from him. Trina, your manager, doesn’t put up with this kind of stuff and will make sure he’s permanently deferred.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Cedric yells, sprinting out of the center with two fingers on his free hand holding his venipuncture site, some blood dripping underneath. Once the front door slams shut, you turn around and take off all your PPE and toss it in the biohazard container, saving your nametag and pen. Frustrated and tired, you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Keri and Trina approach you.

“You alright, hon?” Trina asks. She’s a good manager, always looking out for her employees. She used to work on the Donor Floor, so she’s no stranger to these kinds of mishaps. Tensions can be hefty in this area – some donors are desperate for money, some fear needles more than death itself, and some are just grumps. Phlebotomists usually get the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to cool off. I told Blake to call the cops.” She nods.

“Go ahead. When the police get here, they’ll want your statement, so I’ll come find you then… I’ll put in the PR now,” she says, giving your arm a supportive squeeze before walking back toward the offices. You give her a pained smile and look to Keri, equally concerned as Trina. “Take your afternoon break, love. I’ll handle everything else,” she says. “Thanks, Ker. I’m gonna step in the freezer to cool off and then I’ll go.” She nods. You head toward Processing, located at the opposite end of the center. Processing has two giant walk-in freezers that always maintain temps of -40ºC – great for keeping fresh plasma frozen solid and an instant cool down.

You step in one of the freezers, shutting the heavy door behind you. You walk over to the fans and stand underneath. The sweat on your neck and back quickly freezes in its downward track, leaving behind a sting that could soon turn to frostbite. It doesn’t take long to cool off here, and anybody staying in for longer than a minute is supposed to put on a heavy coat, gloves, and a ski mask. It’s a popular spot for blistering summer days and after heated interactions like this. Satisfied with the pink blooming on your fingers and the crunch of your frozen, sweaty hair, you step out of the freezer and make your way outside for your break.

Once at the picnic table at the outdoor employee break area, you do a quick scan for Cedric. You can see the trails of blood drops leading to and from his car, and an empty space where his car must’ve been parked. Heaving a sigh of relief, you plop down at the table and massage your temples. Fuck… glad this day is almost over.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” A soothing, Southern voice rings in your ear and you look up, seeing Joel approach from his truck. He says your name, surprising you. Keri must’ve told him it while she was going through the process with him.

You take this moment to return the once-over he gave you earlier. Twice-over. His sleeves are still rolled up and you can see his arm wrap. His jeans crinkle at the hip with each step, his strong, toned quads flexing as each foot contacts the pavement. You can only imagine what he looks like from behind. His cowboy boots are worn, the leather cracking around the toes. He’s probably the type to wear a pair until they crumble to bits. He walks with a quiet bravado, taking long, smooth strides until he reaches you at the table.

You’ve no doubt you look exhausted. Though your sweat has frozen, you can feel how frizzy your hair is, especially around your face. Your eyes sting with fatigue and the skin underneath your eyelids tug downward. Your throat feels dry and tight, like you might cry soon. He must notice because the look in his eyes morphs from concern to anger.

“Hi, Joel,” you state, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. Not my first rodeo,” you wink, giving him a sarcastic “yee-haw” motion. He laughs, but his eyes betray him, still showing anger.

“Mind if I sit?” He motions to the spot across from you.

“No, go ahead, but the cops are on their way and who knows if Cedric will be back,” you caution him. He waves you off.

“That fuckin’ kid don’t scare me, and I saw everythin’ anyway. I can talk to the cops if you ain’t comfortable,” he says. He puts his hands on the backs of yours, and you feel another zap in your chest like you did when you first saw him earlier. You notice now that he doesn’t have a wedding ring.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to. I’m well versed in this department,” you say, feeling the tears reaching their boiling point. You do everything you can to keep them in, but one betrays you and falls down your cheek. Angry that you’re crying in front of Joel, you try to move your hand out from underneath his to wipe the tear, but he beats you to it.

“It’s okay, darlin’. You did the right thing, stickin’ up for your people,” he soothes, his thumb wiping your tear from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw and swipes his thumb gently over your cheek. His angry eyes softened back to concerned.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you stare at each other, exchanging more communication nonverbally than words could ever. He’s looking at each of your eyes back and forth, and you feel yourself start to get embarrassed under his hot stare. You try to turn your head away from his gaze, but his hand stops you. “You’re alright, darlin’, got nothin’ to be ashamed of here,” he says, reading your mind. You bring your hand up from the table to gently grasp his arm as a sign of appreciation. His gaze follows and he swallows loudly.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a genuine, close-lipped smile. His eyes move to your lips and then quickly dart back to your eyes, like you caught him doing something forbidden. He removes his hands and stands up, walking over to your side. He offers a hand to help you up and you accept, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Sorry your first visit back here was so crazy,” you say, and he laughs. “Hopefully next time it’s not so… exciting.” He moves his hand up to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it. A tingle rips up your spine.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be.” He gives you that same look that he did earlier, the one where you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. This time, though, you think you know exactly what it means. Your stomach somersaults.

“I’ll see you soon, darlin’. Hopefully your day gets better,” he says, turning to walk toward his truck. Once he gets to the driver’s side door, he turns to look at you again and pauses. You stand and stare at him, wanting to say something in return, but too overwhelmed by all your emotions. He smiles and gets in the truck, starting it and driving off while watching you with a small wave. You smile as he leaves.

Fuck.

Next Chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #centrifugation #pedro pascal fandom

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imaginethezeldaverse · 1 year

Note

Consider the following: You have to leave Goron City for a while for either family reasons or something else important, and Yunobo is not excited. queue passionate and clingy morning sex right before you have to go.

melts into the floor

Ah...sure thing, darling Anon. 🙈

Reader is afab/female here, just fyi.

"It's just for a few weeks, Yuno, I'll be back before you know it," you reason, shoving a few cooling elixirs in your pack. The Goron behind you frowns, clearly unhappy with your words.

"I know, goro, but I..." he sighs, one of his hands reaching up to rub at the back of his head, "I hate that I won't be able to see you or protect you if somethin' goes wrong."

Your sigh comes next, but you smile with some understanding. You don't like having to be so far from him either, but you owed it to your village to help rebuild after the upheaval's destruction. Though Yunobo tried to insist coming with you, you reminded him that Goron City needed him now more than ever - a fact even he couldn't refute. Delicate fingers came to his rounded cheeks, "I know, love, but I'll be just fine - you trust me, don't you?" His eyes widen, worried he might have offended you, "O-Of course I do! I just..." as the trails off the panic in his demeanor softens into slight defeat, "With this upheaval business, I don't know what's going on out there...I just want you to be safe."

Leaning your head forward, you rest your forehead against his. Your thumbs smooth over his face in slow circles, "I'll stop at Tarrey Town, it should only take me a day's time. I'll ask Fyson to deliver a message of my safety." Realizing your mind was made up, Yunobo relents. The compromise is more than he deserves - and truthfully he finds your determination to help your homeland inspiring, all apprehension aside. "Okay," he nods, leaning into one of your hands, "I'll ask Rohan to make a spear for you tonight, goro." You kiss the end of his rounded nose, "Thank you, Yuno" before suddenly hopping up and heading back to your pack, "Now! Let me finish gathering my things and head off to bed - I have a long morning ahead of me!"

The azure eyes that watched you saunter off held great worry as they could not agree more.

---

You awoke bright and early, the sun barely peeking through the skyline over Death Mountain. Despite how sure of yourself you'd been this past week, with the day finally here you felt a wave of unease hit you. Placing your hand over your pack, you eyed your attire for the first day of your trip. So many days you were separated from Yunobo. So many hours, moments, seconds spent apart from the Goron you loved most. You willed yourself to take a deep breath. Though no sooner had you did it sharpen into a gasp. Robust fingers coiled you into a solid chest. Another set of digits swept the hair that covered your shoulder to the side. Immediate warmth encased your frame as the familiar clink of cuffed wrists and biceps sounding as a hand held you firmly at your waist. Lips pressed into your shoulder blade,

"I don't want you to go..." Yunobo's voice was gravelly, grated down by the thickness of just coming out of sleep, "But I know you have to." Another kiss, a little higher on your neck now, "At least let me show you how much I'll miss you, goro." His hand skimmed up your body, a work-worn palm taking the weight of one of your breasts in it. At this friction you whimpered, reaching an arm behind you to wrap as best around his neck as you could. His touch was electric on your skin: gentle, but with an underlying promise of strength underneath. This was Yunobo's goodbye to you - to etch the love on your body that you'd carry with you the entire time you'd be gone. Eventually you're spun around, pulled into a feverish kiss and being scooped up under your thighs. Your Goron beau redirects you back to bed, to which you breathlessly pull from his mouth, "Yuno...haah..." your sentence is cut short as the flat of his tongue marks a trail along your collarbone. You swallow thickly, persisting, "I h-have to get ready..."

Yunobo lays your body down across the length of the bed, his wide frame looming over yours as he nudges you open and settles between your legs. The crook of his index fingers catches under your chin; the normal deep cerulean of his irises have deepened into an impassioned navy, catching your doe-eyed gaze,

"Stay with me...just a little longer?"

How could you say no - with your heart ready to drum outside of your chest from his affections?

Without another word you arms shot up to pull him down for a heated kiss, one with tongues melded, teeth nearly gnashing with the way his wider lips were pressed so firmly to your own. His sizable digits would smooth over every inch of your frame, committing to memory the swell of your breast, the dips in your hips, the plush of your thighs and even the curve of your ass. You moaned in between kisses, feeling his hands everywhere on you, spiking the need that lit a fire between your legs and was blazing hotter by the minute. The mawashi that covered him was shoved off by your heels, and Yunobo groans at your insistence on freeing his cock from its cloth confines. Sitting a little more upright, you half-lidded stare took in his appearance: broad chest already rising and falling in strong pants and a look that you could only describe as hungry. His traveling hands settle in two spots: one at your lower back, the other wrapping around your thigh just after he lines himself up with your waiting slit. The breach of him inside you is gradual - opening you up slowly so you truly feel the thickness of his length inside you. Yunobo bites his lip at how wet you are, giving no resistance and sucking him in with each inch he slides in further. Suddenly he's drawing back, and you hold in a breath. Your nails catch the arm that holds your back as he buries himself within you as far as you can take him. His pace is steady, like a slow heartbeat, aiming to fill you and remind you who it is that loves you in all things heart, soul, and body.

Masculine moans dig into deeper grunts as he picks up speed just a tad, knocking gasps and mewls for your own lips alongside him. Your Goron beau leans forward, resting on his forearms and caging your body in beneath him. His lips find your ear, "I'll hnngg, I'll miss you..." Your back arches when he hits a particular spot inside you, but it's the way his voice dips into something a little more greedy that has desire swimming in your loins tenfold, "Maybe I should keep you under me like this, hm, goro?"

You can't help but gasp at such a line, your hand properly digging into his arm, almost painfully on your end as you feel your peak coming on quick. "Goddess, Y-Yunobo, you c-c-can't say th-ahhh!" you throw your head back involuntarily, his hips slamming down into you. He pricks hot kisses into your neck before a rough, but light chuckle hits your ear, "I'm kiddin', precious, but hhrggg p-promise you'll think of me," his teeth catch your earlobe gently in a nibble. You can feel his thrusts pick up some velocity. In a heavy pant he picks himself up, giving a long once-over of your close-to-orgasm expression.

"Goddess I'll miss this haaahhhh so warm," Yunobo snaps his eyes shut as he simply focuses on filling you up.

"Yunoooo" you whine, "Please hunny, I'm so close, fuck Yunobo!"

It only takes a few quick rotations of his hips for you to come undone, tensing and spasming at every corner of your body; you try not to scream, but his name leaves your lips in a euphoric sob. You ache to cling to him, a need that he senses and he brings himself back down to your body. His arm slides under your back once more as he pulls your pussy down onto his cock as he meets you mid-thrust. Your name and words of love and longing tumble from mouth like a prayer; a chain of "Goddessyesyesloveyouloveyouloveyou" hits the thickened air, drawing out your orgasm with each swift drag of him against your walls. Yunobo's hips come flush to yours in seconds, his teeth gritting tightly as he exhales his release in a growled out shudder. Liquid heat rushes inside of you, and you faintly feel the twitch of his cock as it pumps you full of his seed.

Yunobo holds you close, taking you in for one last, long kiss. He moans into your mouth as your tongues mingle and it sends shivers down your spine; you feel his heart racing as he steels you against his chest. When he finally pulls from your body, you're almost unsure if you're even going to be able to make the trip for the day. But deep down you knew you'd find the energy. You shift to lay your head on his chest, "Oh Yunobo...that wasn't playing fair..." His arm comes around your frame, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip, "Haha, sorry, my love...but I had t'give ya somethin' to remember me by - isn't that what a good boyfriend does?"

You looked up at him, playful pout in tow, "But it makes it so hard to leave you."

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your temple, "All the more reason you'll have to hurry up n' come home soon, goro."

The laugh you let out is one of airy defeat, and you shimmy a little more comfortably in his arms. He hums in contentment, happy to have you just a little longer before you go. Perhaps another hour or two wouldn't delay you all that much after all, you wagered.

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nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 6 months

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Gonna be out of town until Tuesday (I'm heading downstate for the eclipse, woo!), so my queue may be a little uneven for the next few days.

Also, FYI, since people like my ASOIAF art reblogs- just letting you know that my queue has become so huge and unwieldy (up to 700 posts 😭), I'll be moving some of the excess over to my sideblog, @thehightower. Mostly HOTD posts, and probably I won't have the time to tag them for a while, but better there than sitting in limbo for months. Though note that probably won't be starting up until I get back...

#personal stuff #blog maintenance

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obscurushydrae · 5 months

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Rules of Play

Please at least give it a read! Liking this post also means it’s more likely I will follow back, as I know you have RAU’d.

Updated 08/19/2024

ABOUT:

Kar/Karmun/Karthonic either-or. If you'd rather separate mun/muse you can use my middle name, Asher to refer to me.

They/Them is cool.

From New York, so the timezone is EST.

Birthday’s January 1990, so 30+

Spoonie with AuDHD

Artist, and educator, so I can get busy. I commute, so I'm on the train for a few hours a day as well and can be sporadic activity wise.

Personal blog @karthonic.

On mobile most of the time.

I left the Tumblr RPC 4 years ago so forgive me as I catch up with the new etiquette, etc.

Personal blog @karthonic.

Sci-Fi Muse: @stellevatum

ARK AU: @sidisaspecto & @hln-4

GENERAL:

Above all else: Be Excellent to each other and party on, dudes!

First and foremost: my activity is sporadic. I refuse to let myself be like I was when I left the RPC in 2019. I may queue a lot of shit. I may go into a black hole for a few weeks or months. I may forget threads or lose them. It doesn't mean I don't care-- I am here to have fun and not get stressed over things.

If you ever want to reach out-- all my blogs and personal are listed above, and my discord is on request to mutuals, even though I'm just as much a cryptid on there as well.

Lurking for a bit before reaching out is fine, but I would like genuinely interested folks. Optional but I have an Interest Tracker for organization purposes.

Communication is key. My muse might be intimidating, but I'm not-- just very busy and on mobile more often than not. Don’t know something, or want me to elaborate: ask! I forgot a reply or not feeling a thing anymore, lemme know. I'm good. I like get to know the people I write with, it makes me plot things better.

This incarnation Kar is for Contemporary Supernatural/Fantasy/Mythology like verses. You can find the Og/Sci-Fi flavored Kar at @stellevatum.

While she's BPRD based, don’t sweat it if you don’t know the other stuff. If your fandom/verse has a way in, I can finagle her into all sorts of place (she's literally an cosmic horror at heart).

That ‘selective’ part comes into play. I have every right to not follow someone, decline a roleplay, just as you do. Just be polite and respectful.

Crossover/AU/Multiverse/Self Insert friendly. Not your thing, then feel free to not follow.

There will be casual mentions of recreational drug use, more often than not mentions of alcohol than drugs, but will be tagged upon request. Other possible triggers are her fatalistic humor.

This is not a content resource blog. If you’re here for the pretty pictures, aesthetics, or memes, this is not the blog for you.

Godmoding is discouraged but I’m not going to stop it. I will likely try to out ridiculous you Bugs Bunny style. Even though she can’t die, you’re free to try and kill her, but let me know first (either way she’s gonna be pissed FYI).

Most art is mine but will be credited. If I reblog any art reposted without the original creator’s permission, let me know. I’ll remove it.

FOLLOWING/UNFOLLOWING:

Please don’t follow/interact if you’re under 18. If I follow anyone underage, it’s because I wasn’t able to access any about/ooc information, please don’t take it personally if I unfollow!

If I don’t follow you and you follow me, please just hit me up before doing something. Just because I don’t follow means I’m not interested, I just don’t think our characters mesh with the information given. If we chat about it, who knows!

If I follow you or like a post but not follow, it's likely because I want to check out your rules but can't find a mobile friendly/need time to look through things, especially if it's a carrd. If you follow back, I'll message/send passwords as I don't want to overstep.

I don’t usually greet/interact with personal blogs, so side blogs off personals give me a heads up. Otherwise, I might miss you.

I may unfollow or softblock-- but that doesn't mean I am not against second chances. It usually mean either we haven't really done anything and I'm keeping my dash tidy or you never followed back so I'm taking the hint and stepping off, or you were inactive for 6+ month and I assume you abandoned the blog.

If you'd prefer I don't accidentally re-follow, you are free to hardblock. It's a bummer, but we need to what makes each of us comfortable to write. I will only hardblock if it is in your rules or if it was something serious that warrants it.

IN CHARACTER:

Compatible Fandoms (ie I am Familiar with): BPRD/Hellboy, Hades, Devil May Cry, Wolfenstein, Gravity Falls, WTNV, Obey Me!, Sandman, Good Omens, Hellsing, Persona, Durarara!!, Castlevania, Blood of Zeus, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Basically anything with demons/angels/gods and the like. I will interact with Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss muses, even though personally I don't vibe with Viv.

Kar is an ancient cosmic horror who was supposed to destroy all reality. Raised by mortals, so she thought she was. But she's also got other forms, which folks may see.

As for appearance, unless you’re really looking you might notice the fangs. And for the most part, assume she’s wearing her signature sunglasses covering her eyes since those rarely are taken off in public.

While not usually brought up, but Kar has attempted to end her life and self-harmed. Nowadays it’s usually just masked with fatalistic humor, recreational drug use, and lots of drinking.

There will be mentions of Nazis particularly of the occult sort, so if that makes you uncomfortable please feel free to step away.

ASKS:

Askbox will only be open for IC interactions, save for when the meme specifies Mun. IMs are for OOC communication. Anon feature is for sideblogs, multimuses to interact ICly with me. Any Anon messages good or bad directed to the Mun (outside of memes) will be ignored. The Anon feature is privilege, I will revoke it for my well-being if need be.

No Magic Anons, please!

There’s no need to wait to send me a meme if you’ve followed me for 5 minutes or 5 months, send the thing.

Reblog Karma is going to be enforced on this blog. That is, if you reblog an ask meme off me, please send me one. Otherwise, reblog the meme from @karref

THREADS:

Jump on any open post, there’s no need to ask permission, they’re there for that reason!

I will be keeping my posts simple! I don't have the time/energy to make formatted posts, and I like to keep things as accessible as possible. I do try to keep track of the heavily plotted stuff, but the casual things might drop off. Feel free to remind me if it's been a bit!

Communicate! If you’re having trouble writing a reply, talk to me! If you don’t like or not feeling a thread, say so and drop the thread. That also doesn’t mean things are done for good. Come to me if you want to skip/do something else.

If you’d rather we move things to discord, just ask! I’ll set up a server just for us!

SHIPPING:

Shipping is welcomed and willing to discuss the possibility, but I leave the rest to chemistry and just how we as writers write. Kar is into male muses, and will be polite about turning other people down, unless one doesn’t take the hint.

I will only write ships with muns older than 21, but 25+ is preferred.

That being said, I will no longer tolerate stringing me along, or vague replies. Please be clear and direct. If you are interested; say so. If you are not or no longer wanting to go in that direction, tell me. Any vague or non-committal replies will be treated as disinterest and dropped.

This blog is multiship, meaning each relationship is treated as its own separate place in the multiverse unless discussed and agreed upon.

Kar can be polifidelitous. She’s okay with having multiple partners and those partners having partners if your character is cool with it. But she can be selectively monogamous in your little bubble too.

NSFW may be on here, or I might do it over discord. I'm playing it by vibes. As I don't really have any established romantic stuff since rebooting, I can't say with any certainty. Will update when I do know.

TAGGING/ HARD LIMITS:

Blood, Gore, Body Horror, Drugs, etc, will be tagged with (name); for instance drugs; . Special Tags on request.

Posts will be tagged upon request, just let me know!

If you read and understand this, I would appreciate if you'd leave a like the post, that way I know you have without forcing a password.

But if you'd like to message me, here's a DM icebreaker: What's your favorite extinct animal? (If you're lucky I may have cool fact about it.)

HOPE TO WRITE WITH YOU SOON! :D

#nav;

15 notes · View notes

stellevatum · 5 months

Text

Please at least give it a read! Liking this post also means it’s more likely I will follow back, as I know you have RAU’d.

Updated 07/19/2024

ABOUT:

Kar/Karmun/Karthonic either-or. If you'd rather separate mun/muse you can use my middle name, Asher to refer to me.

They/Them is cool.

From New York, so the timezone is EST.

Birthday’s January 1990, so 30+

Spoonie with AuDHD

Artist, and educator, so I can get busy. I commute, so I'm on the train for a few hours a day as well and can be sporadic activity wise.

Personal blog @karthonic.

On mobile most of the time.

I left the Tumblr RPC 4 years ago so forgive me as I catch up with the new etiquette, etc.

Paranormal/Supernatural AU: @obscurushydrae

ARK AU: @sidisaspecto & @hln-4

GENERAL:

Above all else: Be Excellent to each other and party on, dudes!

If you ever want to reach out-- all my blogs and personal are listed above, and my discord is on request to mutuals, even though I'm just as much a cryptid on there as well.

This sounds redundant to post this but: If you have no intention of RPing with me don’t follow. Lurking for a bit before reaching out is fine, but I would like genuinely interested folks. Optional, but I've made an interest checker to help organize things.

This incarnation Kar is for SCIENCE FICTION/SPACE OPERA like verse. Her Contemporary/Urban Fantasy/Paranormal/Supernatural self can be found at @obscurushydrae

While she's Star Wars Based, don’t sweat it if you don’t know the other stuff. If your fandom/verse has a way in, I can finagle her into all sorts of place (she's literally an cosmic horror at heart).

That ‘selective’ part comes into play. I have every right to not follow someone, decline a roleplay, just as you do. Just be polite and respectful.

OC/Crossover/AU/Multiverse/Self Insert friendly. Not your thing, then feel free to not follow.

There will be casual mentions of recreational drug use, more often than not mentions of alcohol than drugs, but will be tagged upon request. Other possible triggers are her fatalistic humor.

This is not a content resource blog. If you’re here for the pretty pictures, aesthetics, or memes, this is not the blog for you.

Most art is mine but will be credited. If I reblog any art reposted without the original creator’s permission, let me know. I’ll remove it.

FOLLOWING/UNFOLLOWING:

Please don’t follow/interact if you’re under 18. If I follow anyone underage, it’s because I wasn’t able to access any about/ooc information, please don’t take it personally if I unfollow!

I don’t usually greet/interact with personal blogs, so side blogs off personals give me a heads up. Otherwise, I might miss you.

IN CHARACTER:

Compatible Fandoms (ie I am Familiar with): Star Wars, Mass Effect, Borderlands, Alien/Predator, Dune, The Outer Worlds, Subnautica, No Man's Sky, Galaktikon, RaM, H2G2, and more!

Kar for the most part, is literally the Force. In a body. Raised by mortals, so she thought she was. And spent most of her life just vaguely gesturing and just going with "humanoid." Force sensitive characters might be able to sense her, but she can mask it.

While not usually brought up, but Kar has attempted to end her life and self-harmed. Nowadays it’s usually just masked with fatalistic humor, recreational drug use, and lots of drinking.

ASKS:

No Magic Anons, please!

There’s no need to wait to send me a meme if you’ve followed me for 5 minutes or 5 months, send the thing.

Reblog Karma is going to be enforced on this blog. That is, if you reblog an ask meme off me, please send me one. Otherwise, reblog the meme from @karref

THREADS:

Jump on any open post, there’s no need to ask permission, they’re there for that reason!

If you’d rather we move things to discord, just ask! I’ll set up a server just for us!

SHIPPING:

I will only write ships with muns older than 21, but 25+ is preferred.

This blog is multiship, meaning each relationship is treated as its own separate place in the multiverse unless discussed and agreed upon.

TAGGING/ HARD LIMITS:

Blood, Gore, Body Horror, Drugs, etc, will be tagged with (name); for instance drugs; . Special Tags on request.

Posts will be tagged upon request, just let me know!

If you read and understand this, I would appreciate if you'd leave a like the post, that way I know you have without forcing a password.

But if you'd like to message me, here's a DM icebreaker: What's your favorite extinct animal? (If you're lucky I may have cool fact about it.)

HOPE TO WRITE WITH YOU SOON! :D

#nav;

11 notes · View notes

lambishep · 1 year

Text

AGE IN BIO/ PINNED. WRITING 18+ DOES NOT COUNT.

Blank/ ageless blogs are blocked blogs. I will not make any exceptions. EVER!

DO NOT INTERACT

if you think any kind of human is better than another,

if you think you have the right to make decisions over another person and their body,

if you struggle with respecting people who are different from you,

if you do not support sex workers, content creators, and artists,

if you do not respect other people's boundaries,

in other words, pedos, racists, homophobes, anti-choice, pro-lifers, TERFs, and other weirdos, just don't even try with me.

Below 18s, please DNI for your own safety and respect for other people's boundaries. Under 21s, learn more about sexual stuff here.

Anyways now that's been said...

Hey there, welcome!

I'm Sheepy

Bisexual, bi-brainial, mostly dumbass, far too kinky for my own good.

He/him/ they, early 30's,

Switch (dom leaning) A mythical creature who lives in Narnia

...

Some House Rules

Do not add comments to my posts unless we're mutuals! Keep your noise in the tags.

Asks are welcome, keep it respectful. If you ask a bunch of dumbass shit, expect a dumbass answer. If you decide to go oversexual and I block you, that's on you.

Submissions are open, however, keep it civil. Don't send me anything you wouldn't want to see in public.

If your partner has not consented to you sexually interacting with others just don't. Nope. I am not the guy, and this is not the place.

Mutuals can ask for Snapchat/ other socials - if I say no, do not take it personally, this is the only space where I live out, and speak out about this side of who I am.

...

FYI

All my posts are meant in gender neutral terms and reblogs/ gendered content are whatever you want them to be (example cock can be strap/ tdick, etc)

Content you'll find here: sex workers, gorgeous people, queer dynamics, soft to hard kinks, somno, cnc, knife/ blood play, oral, choking, gfd, and safe sex/ bdsm practices/ info. Send a tip via Ko-Fi to appreciate the bear bod and encourage more content. Operating on a queue about 97% of the time. I'm chronically online though