#non-gendered reader

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It’s never been that interesting to you, nothing that really gets you going.

You’re not against it, or anything. You think it can be stylish, but some of your friends adore it. You’ve never really understood the hype.

That is, until you start dating Percy Jackson.

The chain necklace he wears with the shark tooth.

The small black and silver rings he wears.

When he holds your hand, you can feel the cool metal against your skin, a silent comfort.

Pulling him in by the necklace for soft kisses.

Or, when you two begin to get more… intimate. When his shark tooth necklace dangles in your face when he’s got you pinned down on his bed, as he admires the purple and red marks he’s left on your neck.

When his hands trace soft, sensitive skin in places that aren’t visible to anyone else, the coolness of his rings tracing against you, making you shiver as slowly tugs your clothes off.

Now when anyone asks, you tell them you’re a big fan of guys wearing jewelry.

Tags: SMUT, drabble, Reader-insert, CHUBBY READER, Non-Descript GN Reader 😎, Thigh jobs....

Warnings: Mildly dubious consent, heavily implied coercion, implied hypnotism, abuse of authority (somehow...since...they're...a....doctor.....), basically it's just him taking advantage of your vulnerability and softness im so sorry my fellow chubchubs 😞 /lh

Situation: You've always been insecure of your weight, and your chubby physique. After attending dancing lessons for a while, you've decided that you always needed to fix your diet too! What more can you seek for, with the eager-to-help general practitioner Doctor Harper, helping you lose weight? :3

Prompt 31 Combination of any of the above, or free day,  Aftercare

Geralt/Reader - Aftercare, praise, slight subdrop, soft, fluff, non-gendered reader

It’s been a kinky ride my friends so it would be amiss of me if I were to leave you all without a little aftercare. Thanks for joining me for my very first completed kinktober, it’s been a trip!

Words 789

Your eyes flutter as you come back to yourself. Still floating, you can feel the soft touches from calloused fingers stroking over your cheek.

“There you are,” Geralt’s warm voice drifts through your hazy thoughts,wrapping  themselves around your heart. 

As you slowly open your eyes, peering through your lashes up to Geralt’s intense yellow gaze, you realise your head is cradled against his strong warm chest. You don’t want to move, you know Geralt will look after you, so it’s easy when he murmurs into your ear “Just lay back, I’ve got you,” to do as he says. 

Your body feels tired, wrung out in the best possible way. It’s obvious how sensitive you still feel as Geralt wipes over you face, down your neck and over your chest with a soft towel. He wipes away the sweat and tears, the mess you have both made cooling on your skin. Every swipe is followed by a kiss, to your head, your temple, and one placed on the tip of your nose that has you giggling.

When he moves down your body running the towel between your legs, you bury your head into his chest, hiding from the world. His laugh feels devine, his chest rumbles, the hairs there tickle your nose. 

“Always so shy, what are you hiding from, baby?” His words make you bury yourself further, finding a place under his arm until you are surrounded by his warm skin and the scent that is purely Geralt, safety and love. 

You whine when Geralt finishes cleaning you, his touch disappearing makes you panic for just a moment before he’s wrapping you in the softest blanket you’ve ever felt. He shifts beneath you, pulling away, and your stomach sinks. Suddenly the world feels untethered and a sob gets caught in your throat. 

“Shh, baby I’m just fetching some food, it’s just on the table, see? I’m not leaving you.” Geralt explains.

He always knows just what to say to put you at ease, even though it feels wrong not to be touching, you nod your head and watch him as he does exactly as he says. 

He brings a mug of cool water to your lips first, cupping your chin just so, making sure you don’t choke as you guzzle it down. You didn’t realise how thirsty you were and now that you’ve drunk your fill you can feel the slight headache that had started gently push away. 

“Here, baby, you need to eat,” Geralt pulls you into his lap so you are leaning back against his chest, a plate of cold meats and fruit sits beside you and he has a piece of apple in his hand. 

You lean forward to take the morsel from his fingers, the flavour dances across your tongue like you’ve never tasted anything so fresh before. Bite after bite is lovingly fed to you, the sugar helps more than you would realise, your thoughts are coming quicker now.

It’s not long before the silence seems to weigh down on you, you mind reeling at the things you have done. You can’t explain why your stomach plummets and your world seems to fall away, a small whimper leaves you unbidden and Geralt is there, guiding your gaze to look at him. 

“Hey hey, baby, talk to me” He urges you, nothing but concern and love written over his face.

“You- you don’t,” You gasp, unable to catch your breath. Geralt waits patiently, sweeping a large thumb over your cheek as you find your words, “What we did, I- do you still love me?” It seems stupid now you say it out loud but you need to hear the words come from Geralt’s lips.

“Oh baby, I love you more than life itself, I’m so very proud of you. You were so good for me, the best.” He whispers the words straight into your soul, placing the softest kisses to your lips which you drink up along with the praise. “You could never do anything to change the way I feel, I promise.” 

It takes a moment of coaxing hands, soft touches, but they ground you. The sweet words Geralt always finds for you and his warm, strong arms surrounding you help the world return to its axis. Your heartbeat calms and the tension that came so quickly leaves just as fast. 

It’s easy for you to drift off to sleep like this, your strong, beautiful Witcher keeping you safe. He whispers praise and poetry into your ear, stroking a hand through your hair with a promise to watch over you while you sleep. You know he will be there when you wake, just like he says, waiting to tell you he loves you.

I would like to wish the happiest of birthdays to my dear friend, Inky, @thinkanddoodle-rhink​. 🎉🎂🥂🎁

To celebrate I wrote a little fic for her and to all of you. It’s a bit silly and fun with a hint of rhink and a pinch of smut.

I hope y’all enjoy the fic and please, go wish my friend happy birthday! She is awesome. 💜

Wrote this becuase my muse made me. Maybe I'll add more to this?

A/N: Reader is about two years old. I also made it so you can pick your sex so anyone can read this.

.....

Being a father was not something Dallas Winston ever envisioned for himself. He had always hated kids....but there was something about his son/daughter that warmed his heart a small bit. Perhaps it was those eyes? The sweet, unconditional love they gave him despite his faults?

He sighed as he laid in bed at Bucks place. He was trying to find a decent apartment to move into so (name) didn't have to live at bucks and constant parties, and drugs, and the drunks. He just wanted them out! Bucks was no place to raise a child. He had been taking shifts at the DX with Soda and Steve to make a fair amount of money for a decent deposit.

He sat up and grabbed a beer bottle and opened it, taking a sip with a sigh. He had been trying not to drink as much, he refused to become his father.

(Name) had been the product of him and Sylvia, but almost as soon as the child had been born, Sylvia left him and (name) behind. Dallas almost have (name) up, but he couldn't bring himself to.

What if they were never adopted? What if they hated him for dumping them off? What if the orphanage was abusive? What if the person who adopted them was?

Those had been the question made Dallas keep his son/daughter. He had never been happier really, and the gang would help with baby sitting when he needed sometime to just be himself, be a kid.

He heard the quiet footsteps of his child approaching his room. He arched a brow. He had put them down a few hours ago. He watched as the door cracked open and a tiny person entered his room, wearing green footie pajamas, pacifier in mouth, and teddy bear in their arms.

"What is it (Name)?" He asked, watching as the child waddled closer to him. The child removed the pacifier.

"Bad Dweam..." they sad sadly, looking down.

Dallas gently picked him/her up and held them on his lap, running his fingers through their smooth hair. He gave them a pass on the pronunciation for now, after all, they had only recently started talking. "Hm..what about kiddo?"

"Scary monster chasing me...hurt you..." The child said, eyes watering.

Dallas frowned and just held the child close and rubbed their back. "It's okay. The monster wasn't real. Besides, nothin' can hurt your old man."

"Pwomise?" The child whimpered, clutching onto his shirt.

"Promise." Dallas said.

"Can I stay, papa?" (Name) asked.

"Sure." Dallas said, laying down and pulling (Name) onto his chest. The toddler cuddled into him and Dallas put the pacifier in their mouth once more as he pulled the blanket over them.

You were both painfully aware of how it looked; the pretty omega and their alpha boss. If you hadn't spread your legs for your promotions then clearly he was taking advantage of his position. Even with the careful dance you did in public the accusations cropped up from time to time. 

A commission fic for @out-of-the-embers​, who requested something with Cullen and this prompt - Brontide; the rumble of distant thunder.

Brontide

The low rumble of distant thunder wakes him from uneasy sleep, one hand groping at his side for the warmth of a body that is not there. Whiskey-bright amber eyes open, blinking away confused vision to focus on a shadow at the window - your shadow, your form, silhouetted against the dark sky and the looming threat of a storm, crackling on the horizon.

Lightning flashes across distant peaks, illuminating the face he loves so well, echoed in the painful crackle of Fade green light that bursts from your palm. As he watches, you bite down on a moan of pain, gathering that hand into yourself, squeezing tight as though just that pressure might calm the Anchor tonight. Cullen frowns, his own hand clenching in sympathy. He knows the Anchor still hurts you, even now, even after Corypheus’ death and the closing of the rift. He knows, in a way no one else ever will, how it torments you in your quietest moments; how you force yourself to hide that struggle from everyone around you. But you cannot hide it from him. 

He rises from the bed, foregoing modesty for once to reach your side just as another crackle from your palm threatens to bend you double, reaching out to wrap his arms about you from behind. You gasp, surprised at his wakefulness, barely holding back a whimper as his fingers link themselves through yours, squeezing with you against the lancing agony of the Anchor’s intrusive light. His arms wrap tight about your chest, his lips press warm against your sweat-cooled temple, and for the first time since waking in pain and fear, you feel safe.

Here, in Cullen’s embrace, you are not alone with your dark thoughts and fears, gathered close against a body whose heart beats in time with your own, whose owner knows the torment of hidden pains never shared with those around him. He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t need to, simply holding you close as his kisses press to your temple and cheek, waiting patiently for the tension to recede, for the pain to fade as it always does in time. His mere presence is enough to pull you out of the thoughts that seem to enhance that pain, reminding you in a way only he can manage that there is so much more to you than simply one magical palm. 

He doesn’t see you as just the Inquisitor, not any more. He never saw you as the Herald of Andraste. What he sees, what he has always seen, is who you are, right at the core, and you will forever be grateful that whatever he sees drew him close enough to drag down your walls and his in mutual need and love. You need him, just as he needs you. The love between you is too strong to be torn down by politics and tragedy. You will be in his heart until the end, and that, somehow, is the greatest comfort you can imagine.

The Anchor flares once more, echoing the distant flash of lightning, but this time, you don’t buckle under that onslaught. Instead, you turn to the man who loves you, who has spent years protecting you, guiding you, sheltering you in ways not even he can put a name to. Your lips seek his, a silent acknowledgement of his strength in your weakness, and he is there to catch you with that kiss, his grasp loosening just enough to allow you to turn fully into his embrace. His lips are sure and warm, softly demanding that you let go of the troubles that have kept you from his side. He will keep the Anchor calm, those kisses promise, and you believe him without question. 

Gentle hands guide you away from the window, from the tempest brewing far away. It is not here; it is not your concern. He draws you down onto the bed, gathering you close in his arms once again, content to trade kisses back and forth until you giggle, the pain and darkness forgotten under the onslaught of affection that turns teasing at the sound of your mirth. Mirth turns to passion, proving love in the still of the night, until, at last, nothing is left. 

So I joined @the--sad--hatter​ ‘s Tea Party Challenge for her birthday and I chose to write for Loki (of course ehehehe). Advance happy birthday, Kara!

Title: Coffee and Chaos

Words: 1,453

Notes: non-gendered reader; also available in AO3

Summary: You were sent to a mission with the God of Mischief. One morning you woke up to Loki bringing the mischief to you and you haven’t had a cup of joe to deal with it.

A STRONG BLAST WOKE…no, tossed you from the bed. You opened your eyes and grabbed the pistol sitting on the bedside table. You checked the time: it was 4:26 AM. You yawned but a round of bullets floors below rattled the sleepiness from you.

You scanned the room and found the other bed empty. Where the hell is Princey?! You thought as you moved from the side of the bed to the door. You opened the door just in time for a startled Loki to barge in and fill the room with a shimmer of green mist. "What is happening?" You asked urgently.

He looked at you, panic written all over his face. A panicked Loki was not a good sign in the morning - or anytime. “We need to leave. Now,” he commanded as he paced the room and peeked at the window. You two heard trucks screeching into a halt outside the apartment building you two were hiding.

You picked up your bag. “Can you at least tell me what’s happening?” You demanded, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “I was tossed out of bed, you barged in here like death’s after you, and I even haven’t had a cup of coffee yet!” You ranted as you inserted magazine reserves on your belt.

He stopped on his tracks and turned to you. “Yes, death is after me! HYDRA detected me when I entered their facility.” You gawked at him. “We don’t have time!” He grabbed you by the hand and left the room and headed to the back of the building.