Top Posts Tagged with #notsmut

That awkward moment when you met Norman Reedus. NormanxFemReader 3/6

Hi!!

I come here too with the 3 part of this mini series.

I hope you like it!!

Enjoy it!!

That awkward moment when you met Norman Reedus. 3/6

Norman Reedus (45) Reader (29)

’Request’ from @srhxpci : They work together, they became friends, and then lovers, there’s a gap age and I add a little smut (sorry I can’t not do that).

Warning this chapter; No Smut (yet) Nerves. Doubts. Father-son talk. Feelings. Nakedness. Memories. Norman POV.

Summary: You were part of the cast of the series, but your first meeting with Norman didn’t go too well, now after many years, you can say that you are very good friends. Norman wants to invite you to his own show, why not? it will be fun!

N/A: Non canon of the TV show.

taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @purple-serenity @darylsgirl @ruinedbythehobbit

3. Memories.

#norman #normanreedus #norman reedus #normanreedusxfemreader #normanxfemreader #twd series #fermreader #notsmut #miniseries #fanfiction requests

•18+ Adults Only

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NakoMiku

Miku: See what I can do.

Nako: Whoa you can stick the whole popsicle in your mouth.

Miku: Can you?

Nako: I’ll try

Miku: Do it carefully…

Nako: Okay…

Miku: Almost there… Yes!

Nako: It’s hard towards the end and the tip hits your throat.

Miku: relaxing the tongue helps… Nacchan said so.

Madoka: You’re teaching them that trick…

Natsu: Miku was curious because I can do it with ease.

Madoka: Sasshi…

Natsu: Don’t break Nako’s heart… she still thinks it isn’t true.

Madoka: She said it was small…

Aoi: Ah whatcha guys talking about? Are they having that contest?

Natsu: Yeah… it wasn’t my idea though.

Madoka: It was your idea to teach them to do something lewd.

:Natsu cackle:

#notsmut #somewhatfunny #NakoMiku

Eastern Thanalan. Age 21.

The desert was the ugliest thing Zuri had ever seen. She stared out at the road, dismayed in a way she couldn't fully explain, and looked back over her shoulder into the thinning trees, the edge of the border of the Twelveswood. This was Eastern Thanalan, according to what Elder Arhus had told her, and it would be her first stop on her journey into the outside world.

Zuri had never wanted to see the outside world. Her home had been all that she'd ever wanted to experience, with all the things she ever could have wanted. The panic was bubbling up in her chest again, and she planted her feet solidly on the dirt road, breathing in and out, slowly. She was a hunter of her people. Crying at something so silly wouldn't behoove her. She was a representative of her tribe, now. Even as an exiled member.

Her lower lip quivered, and she tightened her belly, firming herself against it.

Suva.

Dirt crunched as she took a step forward, and then another. It was necessary. She was necessary, even if the trees were forbidden to her now. Her tribe was small, and quickly outpaced by the rest of the world. Without someone procuring new and better tools, and technology, to make their own craftswomen more relevant, to help them extract every last bit out of the small allotment of forest's bounty they were allowed, they would be lost. She knew that. They weren't farmers. They wouldn't be absorbed into the larger towns and the scar on the land that was Gridania. No.

She resettled her pack and kept walking, numbly absorbing the details of the changing landscape. She could feel the edges of the forest, feel when she left its shade -- even though there was still some scant trees left. No, this was no longer part of her home. It was just...dead things, and dryness, and heat, and dirt. Lots of dirt.

Eventually she came upon a small settlement beside a bridge. The wind was picking up, which was a relief; it was hot. Uncomfortably so: the wide expanse unbroken by anything but small rocks and shrugs was dastardly. The breadth of it made her skin crawl. Even as she wandered up to the edge of the cliff and looked down, she couldn't see anything that would give her any reason just why anyone would want to be out there. Lack of choice? It looked depressing. Brown, and dead, and dirty. Not the good kind of dirty, like the thick loam on the forest floor, but just...dirt dirty.

She grew tired of staring down into the abyss and ambled over to the settlement, where she found a smattering of people. She'd successfully avoided people thus far, not wanting to talk to outsiders -- a limited luxury, since that would become her new task in life. Her mother had told her she was still hunting for the tribe, just for different things. Without being allowed to come home. Unless she was successful and proved herself, again, then, maybe...

Maybe.

Zuri gritted her teeth and approached one of the groups, assessing each with quick, furtive glances. She did not think they would attack her, but outsiders were strange, and sometimes fey. Plus, Zuri would not be surprised to learn that being out under so much sun in so much open space had made them crazed.

There were three of them. They stood far distant from each other, at least a fulm, so Zuri wondered how they could really understand what each other had to say. None of them looked at her as she approached, or questioned her right to walk there, or even seemed curious about who she was and why she stood there, slowly coming closer. They were strange. She knew what they must be, by their physical aspects: the tiny one was of the small folk. The one with the hideously rounded ears and stature near her own was likely one of the midlander folk. The last another of the midlander. Their clothing was plain, but to her eye finely, finely woven. Amazingly so, surpassing anything like what her people wore.

Her fingers itched to touch it, but as she closed in on them she finally attracted their attention: three fulms, two, and there was plain hostility in their gazes, and in the raised voice of the midlander woman.

"Can I help you?" Sharp. High. Sneering.

Zuri nodded, curiosity in the curve of her shoulders and the upward tilt of her chin, fingers spreading wide in entreaty as she reached to touch the woman's sleeve.

Her hand was slapped away.

"Excuse you!" The woman said.

Zuri tipped her head to the side, ears folding back in uncertainty. Excuse her? What was she being excused for? She held her hand to her chest, wondering if perhaps she had missed a nonverbal greeting-statement. She leaned in, to touch shoulders with the woman, and this time was given a harsh shove.

Even with the weight on her back from her pack and her bow, she didn't stumble. She did take a step or two back. Perhaps she was to touch foreheads? She made an apologetic grimace, and stepped in again.

"Whoa," the midlander man said, even as the woman said in sharp and strident tones: "back off!"

"It's one of the forest savages from the Shroud," the small one said, his eyes full of something sharp enough to cut.

Zuri reached out again, in apology, and the woman backed up behind the other midlander male. "Gods," she said. "Make it go away."

"What is it you want?" He asked.

"Looking for handouts, or to sell some ratty hides, I've no doubt," the small one yet sneered.

Zuri frowned at him and made a dismissive gesture. "I don't know your greeting."

"What did it say?" The woman asked.

"I think she said hello."

"What do you want?" The midlander male had puffed his chest out, standing before the female as if protecting a babe. Perhaps the woman was sick, and that was why she was hiding.

Zuri stepped back, not wanting to catch the illness. "This is Camp Drybone?"

The small one laughed. "Camp Drybone? Hardly. You've more distance to cover. That way." He pointed westward.

Zuri turned her eyes to follow the ribbon of road until it disappeared into the distance, over a small dip in the land. She could make something out in the distance that was, perhaps, a town. Or a bit of funny shaped rock. She wouldn't put it past the desert to be shaped oddly.

"There?" She asked, pointing.

"'Swhat I said, isn't it?"

She considered asking for a guide, and then considered them, and their attitude. She couldn't blame them; if she had met them within her own territory she'd be like as not tempted to put arrows in them. But they, despite their obvious scorn and mistrust, didn't pull weapons on her. Perhaps this was a trading post, then. Perhaps they were stupid and slow, like the farmed animals in the Gridanian villages.

Perhaps this was life now, and she should get used to it.

She shouldered her pack, nodded to them, and started walking. She learned two things on that long, dusty walk to Camp Drybone. One, she needed to carry much more water for the trip; and two, that the sun really was her worst enemy. She'd been dehydrated before, but never quite enough to push a headache from oppressive to dizzying. There was no water, anywhere, and as she stumbled into the camp (it should have been called Village Drybone, or Town Drybone; camp it was not), she could have kissed a talisman to the Old Ones in thanks.

She didn't feel that way for long.

There were too many people, to start. The sun was following its descent down, which was the only good thing about the place. The mix of people seemed so foul compared to what she'd seen before. Some wore fine garments, others poor. And so many scents! It nose-blinded her, made her eyes water up with the various unfamiliar stenches. Chocobo, under it all, combined with body odor, refuse, odd spices, food, waste, and something almost dusty and stale.

There was too much talk. It was hard to keep track of, as she slowly wandered in, catching snatches and snippets, each person more guarded and sneering than the last. Out of this tangle of flesh she was supposed to find a single person, some hyur, in and amongst the rising walls and cut off buildings that felt like suffocation writ large.

Zuri lasted a quarter bell. She asked a total of four people directions to the person she'd been instructed to find, and had been met with hostility in a variety of forms, or else questions she didn't have the answers to. Before she knew it she was up above the camp, looking down into it, fingers rustling through the arrows in the quiver at her hip. Thinking. Watching. Feeling the sun beat on her, feeling her headache growing worse, smelling all the awful things...

Before she knew it, she was dizzy and leaning heavily against a rock, panting.

Before she knew it, she'd passed out.

Never had Zuri truly considered herself to be a stupid individual, or especially lacking in common sense. And yet, when she awoke feeling as if a creature had crawled into her ear and now attempted to claw its way out from within her skull and out through her eyes, she realized how stupid she'd been.

The sun had dried her out. She'd let it dry her out, despite advance warnings, despite the powerful thirst and dryness she'd felt.

Grimacing, she let it go as she pushed herself towards wakefulness. She lay on something soft, in a cool, dark room. Gods bless for that, even though opening her eyes was difficult.

"You must be Zuri," a man said, his voice terribly grave, a distant rumble around the edges not unlike thunder.

She managed to crack her eyes open into slits, and groaned for her effort.

"Here," he said, something pressed against the back of one of her clenched hands.

She sniffed, and smelled something like an elder's concoction. Sniffed again, and smelled too much about the man, the room, and knew she was still in Camp Drybone.

The cup held a tonic, one she knew, and she fumbled it into her hands and drained it. She was already incapacitated, and if he'd wanted her dead, it would've been easy enough. After that, he pressed a cup of water into her hands, and then another, until she could drink no more and refused the next.

She curled up into a little ball, while the man sat there, unspeaking and patient, and sought out sleep once more. The pain in her head was too much for anything else.

The next time she awoke, he wasn't there, and she had a raging need to void her bladder. A quick search found a heavy, lidded pot that smelled of previous uses, and she used it.

The room was incredibly quiet.

It was also incredibly empty. There was a pitcher of water -- which she drank -- her pack and hunting items, the bed she'd slept on, and other things she knew the city-goers used. She hated it. She hated the closed in walls, the overlapping smells, and most of all its emptiness. Her ears near rang with the silence, her head filled with the sound of her own breath and her own thoughts, devoid of nearby chatter and children and any number of necessary things.

It was just empty.

Everything was just empty, now.

A faint reprise of her earlier pain built behind her forehead, and she forced herself to take a deep breath, stepping towards the door; she'd rather face the Camp than spend more time in the mausoleum that was the room she'd been placed in.

Suva.

She opened the door, and stepped out to meet the man it was her duty to find.

That was all that she had left.

It was all she was, now.

#notsmut #Thanalan #after

Twelveswood. Age 14.

It was time.

Zuri stood in a circle before the bonfire, ringed by tribeswomen. Suva was beside her, tall and regal and strong. Zuri vibrated with her excitement, striving with all her might to maintain sobriety as her mother stepped before her. She held the huntsday bowl in hand: a heavy thing, carved of some dense and unknown wood, embellished with tiny miqo'te women wielding lance and bow. Time had worn some of it away, despite loving care.

Its insides were stained dark with pigment, from (as the legends went) centuries of use during huntsday ceremonies. In the darkness of night, Zuri couldn't really differentiate between the colors; the firelight tainted everything with a warm glow. Not that it mattered, but it was the first time she'd gotten to see the bowl up close.

Today, she'd become an adult.

She was ready. Her confidence in her training, in her applied skills, was strong; even so, nervousness and fear chewed at the edges of her excitement. The weight of centuries of tradition, of trials, of ceremony settled across her shoulders as Suva's mother stepped up alongside her own, dipping her fingers into the bowl and drawing the huntsign upon Suva's face: a mark unique to heritage and family, passed down from mother to daughter in an unbroken line.

Too much time and too little passed at once before Zuri's mother gave over the bowl to Suva's mother, and dipped her fingers in to paint her own mark upon Zuri's face. She stared at her mother's face as she worked, feeling the love and care and satisfaction and happiness with each mark laid upon her face. Her mother took joy in her, and it filled her near to bursting. It was so hard to stay still, so hard to not dash for her bow and run into the trees whooping and hollering and whistling her joy to Menphina and Her moon.

By dint of will alone, she stood still, nostrils flaring with her excitement. Zuri's mother put the bowl down before the fire, and Zuri and Suva sat across from it. They would be huntpartners, now, a bonded duo who would rely upon each other when they went deep into the wild places to test their luck against bigger and more ferocious game. It was necessary to the tribe's survival; legends went that once, when game was plenty and the Old Ones undisturbed by the tribe's small forays into their lands, there had been no need for huntpartners. But with the advent of the elezen and Gridania, everything had changed. And now they were being honored, declared strong and skilled enough to take on the mantle of responsibility to feed the tribe

It awed Zuri.

Together, she and Suva dipped their fingers into the bowl, and reached across it to each other. They painted each other in their practiced marks, marks that would belong to them and them only, perhaps to be passed down to some other deserving pair if their skills were great enough and their legend grew. The thought of it tingled across Zuri's arms and down her back, chased by a sense of guilty excitement. It was wrong of her to wish to become legend, it was greedy and selfish, but she couldn't help it. There was an echo of it in Suva's eyes, as their fingers brushed over each other's skin: flashes of impishness that they shared in secret, buoyed by each other. Suva was amazing. Zuri was so gladdened and pleased that the elders had seen true, and paired them.

Around them, their fellow tribeswomen began to chant and beat the drums. There would be throat singing soon; as Zuri was to begin to prepare herself to leave on a long journey, she would not be allowed to participate. There was a slight sting at that: she was good at throat singing. But it was swept away under the tide of her excitement. Nothing would get her down. The night belonged to her, and she to it. Together, she and Suva rose, taking turns painting each others' legs and backs. They moved faster now, keeping rhythm with the tribe's song. When it, and they, were finished, it all stopped: a singular drum beat carrying it to its close. Then, the elders approached, bearing the gifts from the tribe's master craftswomen.

"You are unworthy," Elder Icah, the eldest, said. Suva and Zuri glanced at each other and bowed their heads, holding out their hands.

"You are nothing without your tribe. You are lost without your sisters and mothers. You would be empty without your kith and kin."

Together, two of the youngest elders stepped forward, bestowing bows, bow cases, quivers, and arrows: the first possessions that either girl would truly own.

"You will be unworthy to the task at hand. For you are hunters for the tribe. Be filled with us, heart and soul, as you take your journey, and know that you will never fully fill the bellies of your tribe."

A third elder brought forward the Elderbowl: simply but expertly wrought of ivory. The eldest dipped her thumb to it, and pressed it once to Zuri's forehead, and once to Suva's. If their hunt was successful and accepted by the elders, they would each receive the traditional teardrop between and above their eyebrows to signify their status as contributing adults to the tribe.

"Bellies," the elder continued, voice dry, "are never truly full. But your hearts and souls will be always filled, for we will always be there. If you prove yourself fit for the task of the endless hunts for this tribe, you will in turn be found worthy to fill the heart and soul of your tribe. Then, and always, you will join the huntsong, and be eternal amongst Menphina's stars."

Silence fell, and the drums began anew: the rhythm of hunting. Zuri and Suva geared up. Elders brought forward a mash, hot and filling, and spoon fed the two girls.

"This is the last meal you take as children. This is the last meal you take without giving in return. When you return, you will feed your tribe."

Rations were brought and packed away as the two girls finished eating, bowing their heads in gratitude.

The huntsong began, and Zuri felt her blood rushing through her, energy racing and causing her to shift her weight side to side in her eagerness. Beside her, Suva did the same, face a mask of fierce enthusiasm.

"Are you ready, Zuri?"

"Yes, Elder Icah."

"Are you ready, Suva?"

"Yes, Elder Icah."

"You are so bonded. May you rely upon each other, and your tribe, and return to us with meat, and be found worthy."

Tension hummed, the two girls poised on the brink of something wondrous: a chasm of unknown gaping before them and ready to be explored. Zuri found Suva's hand, and squeezed, and Suva squeezed hers in return. The huntsong swelled around them, filling their bones. They waited for the final words, the words that would send them out. Waited, as Elder Icah made them wait: their last reminder that they were part of something greater, and they did not go out alone.

"Do not stop until you are beyond the sounds of your sisters' voices, until you can no longer feel the drum."

Zuri panted, feeling her body heat with excitement, and the need to move.

"Now, go."

The circle opened, and the two girls bounded out of it, carried along with the boundless energy of youth.

It was the best day of Zuri's life.

#Twelveswood #before #notsmut

Half moon

❝ can you be my mommy?❞

summary ; jungkook adopts a six year old boy cause why not?

warning ; fluff , lowercase intended , 100% mommy kink

pairing(s) ; taekook

words ; 269

note ; originally published on wattpad (found here)

001

"you want to adopt a kid?"

"yes hyung."

jungkook being scared of yoongi would be a understatement. he has petrified. he knew his older brother like he knew the back of his hand.

yoongi was, of course shorter by an inch and a half, but his scary. he remembers during his freshman year of high school, and these four boy gang up on him for his lunch money, until yoongi swooped in, and being a good big brother, he shooed away the bullies.

"can i just ask why though?" yoongi's baritone voice broke the some what comfortable silence that sat between them. jungkook twiddled with his thumbs looking everywhere but his hyung's eyes. he pursed his lips to a thin line before answering.

"cause i feel like i'm ready to take care of a child. i have plenty of room in my apartment, i have more than enough money to support both of us, plus...it get's lonely. i want someone to keep me company..." jungkook got quieter as the sentence reached it's end. yoongi couldn't help but smile.

"alright baby bro, tomorrow, we're going to an adoption center and see what we can find. sound good?" jungkook's eyes immediately lit up like a Christmas tree. he jumped on his older brother, smothering him in a tight hug. "thank you thank you thank you thank you hyung! i love you so much!" the younger hopped off the couch and rushed out the door to get to his car.

"that boy..." yoongi smiled cheekily, hearing his brother's car back out of his drive way.

#bts #bts jungkook #bts v #fanfiction #notsmut #fluff

•18+ Adults Only

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I don't care if it's gone midnight, I'll post this if I want. ;)

“R'hion had only been in the house for a few moments before he noticed something amiss. There were no lights in the house, the only glow came from the lounge, where the fireplace was aglow with recently lit firewood, gold flames offering light and heat in a cozy atmosphere. The Seeker stepped through confidently, smiling as he found the figure lounging asleep on the sofa. He admired just how the massive, albino Xaela seemed to own the entireity of the sofa with his sheer presence. Perhaps it had once been a sexy surprise, but the lateness of the hour left him asleep with the blanket wrapped around him.

'Henryk...'

He sighed softly, slipping under the blanket with him. Bright orange eyes opened and blinked sleepily.

'... Surprise?' The Xaela wondered softly. R'hion smiled and snuggled up close, savouring the heat, warmth and solid muscle.

'Best surprise ever....'”

#notsmut #Sweetness

The Glory of a Rainbow

written by: lostinsanity

Summary: Harry lives in a black and white world. Until he meets Louis.

-------

Pretty much its adorable b/c of its description of finding a soulmate/falling in love.

Read on AO3

#5k #oneshot #soulmate #notsmut #au #larry #fic #ficrec #fic rec #larry stylinson #hario and louigi #larry fic #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction