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etheries1015 · 1 day

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after learning Silver uses a BAR OF SOAP to wash his hair...AND wanting to wish him a happy birthday, I decided he must be pampered with a...little spa day, and something a little special near the end <3 Happy birthday, Silver!!

General warnings: gender neutral reader

Upon visiting Silver in his dorm for a small birthday celebration and finding out the unfortunate truth behind his hair-washing habits, you were quick to insist you take him out shopping or teach him the ways of proper hair care.

"I had no clue it wasn't normal to just use a bar of soap," Silver shrugged, "As long as it makes me clean, right?"

"Just hearing you say that hurts," you joked exasperatedly, "I feel it's my duty now to train you in the ways of making your hair clean and feel like you're touching a cloud."

"Well," Silver pondered, "I guess it wont hurt to learn."

"Perfect!" You jumped up from your seat, the Diasomnia lounge, "you guys are done here, right?" Lilia looked as startled as Silver at your sudden outburst, before taking a glance at the already eaten birthday cake and open presents that lay out on the table.

"I suppose it is time to retire, I have a gaming session happening soon anyways," Lilia pointed out, before a sly smile crawled upon his lips and looking at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Feel free to take him!"

"Take me?" Silver perked up, sitting up straight. Giving an...unsettling cackle and grabbing Silvers hands, you began to pull him up and urge him to follow you.

"Perfect. Yes, i'm kidnapping you. Remember, I told you that I left my present for you at Ramshackle anyways. AND this is a perfect opportunity for me to initiate my next mission..."

"Mission...?" you heard Lilia sing his goodbyes and waved a quick farewell to the other members of Diasomnia, before dragging Silver out the door and towards the direction of the hall of mirrors.

"Operation: spoil the birthday boy with a spa day!"

Wearing the world's softest robe you had let him use, Silver dosed off a few times after being completely pampered like a princess, and not as a result of his typical condition. You messaging his scalp was probably the most heavenly thing he had felt in a long time, the way your fingers worked on his head left his eyes fluttering shut. He was honestly sad when he realized he had fallen asleep and missed half of the process, but he could still feel your touch linger on his head and immensely enjoy the newfound softness of his silver locks.

You woke him up when you had placed a cool face mask on him, and fell asleep once more when you had started to massage his tense shoulders and cut his nails... He felt like floating on clouds, and those clouds also smelled like you.

"It's nice..." Silver hummed, eyes fluttering open watching you finish filing one of his nails, "You have a very nice scent. I would like to know where you get your hair products," He smiled at you.

"We can find you a scent that suites you more," you offered, "every person has their own unique scent! I'm sure with some time, we can find the perfect one for you." However, Silver shook his head in earnest. It was much more romantic than he probably intended, yet he leaned forward and took a light smell of your also freshly washed hair.

"I like your scent," he smiled, "besides, it would be nice to share something similar, right? So when we aren't together, there's always a piece of you there. You also convinced me that hair care is more important than I gave it credit for..."

Your face took a rosy hue, you groaned in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands.

"You're so...cheesy! You don't need my shampoo and conditioner to be reminded of me, I actually...got you...something. For your birthday." Silver raised a curious eyebrow and tilted his head with widened eyes.

"I thought you spoiling me with a little 'spa' was my birthday gift? you've already spoiled me plenty, I don't need-"

"Of course that's not all I have planned!" You exasperated, pushing Silver down onto the couch in Ramshackle lounge, "Wait here." Sprinting away, you were back almost as fast as you had left, in your hands you held a small box obviously held for some type of accessory. Taking it gracefully, Silver opened the box to reveal a silver bracelet adorned with...

"Acorns?" Silver asked startled, holding up the bracelet and examining it with curious and starry eyes.

"I saw the one you made for Lilia," You pointed out shyly, "Out of real acorns. I thought of making one myself for you, too...but, I wanted something a little more durable, something you can wear more often. If...you don't mind accessories." You hid your hands behind your back fidgeting with your fingers nervously, before a smile spread ear to ear and cheeks rose with a blush from the male. He gripped the bracelet with eagerness, and you swore the bright look on his face would surely give the sun some competition.

"I love it," Silver replied with a voice dripping in enthusiasm, "I won't be able to wear it while I'm training, but I'll be sure to have it on at all times. I'll take great care of it, thank you." You were visibly relieved, chuckling and bringing your hands to your front as you revealed an exact match of the same bracelet you had just given him.

"i'm glad, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing to wear a matching bracelet with nobody actually matching with me..." Silver stared with wide auroral orbs, mouth ajar upon seeing it. "So...we have something to share! Just like you were talking about before, right?"

Engulfing you in a hug after putting on the accessory in one fell swoop, Silver couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for the prefect of ramshackle dorm. He squeezed you tightly, yet not enough to harm you. You smiled and returned the hug in full, chuckling at his sudden display of fondness.

"This has been a wonderful birthday," Silver said, "Thank you, truly. I will remember this day for a very, very long time." leaning into his touch, you pushed aside the urge to tell him he was overreacting, and took the honest boys words at face value.

"Of course...Happy birthday, Silver!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcannons #Silver vanrouge #Silver twst #twst silver #silver x reader #twst silver x reader #silver headcannons #twst silver headcannons #Twst headcannons #twst x reader #Silver vanrouge x reader #Silver vanrouge headcannons

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minniesmutt · 3 days

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hai hai haii bangchan + mamacita 👀

﹙ 🪐 ﹚

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐚

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: MAFIA!AU, MAFIA BOSS! CHAN, MISOGYNY, GUNS, ORAL (F. REC), FACE RIDDING, UNPROTECTED SEX, ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.2K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: not me listening to MAMACITA when you sent that hbjad ☾ ━━━ send me Chase Atlantic songs and a member to write a blurb about ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

The only person Chan trusted more than his seven friends was his girlfriend. Especially when he needed to give people a little push. Maybe because she was just the right level of crazy to date— let alone join his gang— a mafia boss.

He had her on his arm at a banquet for the underground world. Security was tight for the event and Chan knew coming in, he was fine if someone tried something. Y/n stuck close to him the whole time. Her arm wrapped with his while she held a glass of champagne in the other. He watched how many other men looked at her as they walked by. It boosted his ego more.

“Mr. Bang! How nice to meet you finally!” Something he’d heard all night

“Mr. Lee. It’s nice to meet you as well,” Chan greeted the target, being the cordial businessman he was.

It wasn’t long before more men he’d spoken to over the phone had joined his conversation, including some sons who were due to take over their father’s spot. He’d proudly introduced Y/n as his girlfriend to the group when asked. Y/n smiled and gave a small wave to the group.

“How do you manage to pick up such a pretty lady Mr. Bang?” One of the sons asked

“Pure luck,” Chan answered

“You have her well trained. Been quiet as a mouse all night.” Mr. Lee joked causing the other men to laugh

“Maybe you’re just not worth speaking to Mr. Lee. Your fourth wife seems to think so at the moment,” Y/n smiled as she sipped her drink

“Excuse me?” Mr. Lee looked shocked

“Obviously not trained enough,” Another remarked

“You let her speak this way, Mr. Bang?”

“I prefer she does,” Chan smiled

Chan didn’t worry about his girlfriend mouthing off. He’d thought it was attractive to watch her do it to others. It’s how things seemed to get done.

“And you’re the current head of the underworld bosses? Can’t believe you have such a mou—”

“You can finish that sentence if you prefer glass in your throat,” Y/n interrupted

The look in her eyes alone kept the men silent for a moment.

“I believe the council will need to discuss our leadership now,” Mr. Lee said

“You’re just looking for an excuse to take out Chan, Mr. Lee.”

“I most certainly am not!”

“It’s really amazing what a few high ranking members of your family will say with a good drink and a pretty face in front of them.”

“I beg you’re pardon?”

“Then get on your knees and beg.”

Y/n watched as he reached behind and pulled out a gun. Point it at her, which just made security— all who worked for her boyfriend— pull theirs out and surround the group.

“Thank you, for showing you’re true colors, Mr. Lee. If any of you would like to join Mr. Lee, please feel free too. But let this be a warning not to question my leadership.” Chan smiled

One of the security guards grabbed the gun from the man while he was escorted to a different room.

“You let yourself get—” one of the sons started speaking put was cut off by Y/n’s champagne flute colliding with his head

“Deal with them,” Chan sighed and escorted his girlfriend out of the room. Bringing her back home and carrying her up to their room.

“Chan!” Y/n squealed

“What?” He laughed as he walked up the stairs

“I can walk.”

“Mm, but I know you’re feet hurt from those heels baby.”

Chan opened their bedroom door before setting her on the bed and kneeling infront of her. He quickly slipped her heels off and set them in their closet. Y/n smiled as he turned back to her. “I’m so glad I get to call you mine,” Chan said as he crawled over her and pressed his lips to hers.

Y/n moaned into his mouth and pushed his blazer off his shoulder. Their hands roamed the other’s body, pulling off the fabric of the clothing. Tossing them somewhere in the room for someone to deal with later. Y/n managed to get her boyfriend on his back as she grinded herself against him.

“Let me prep you baby girl,” Chan said as she kissed down his neck

“Let me ride that pretty face tonight?” Y/n asked

“Whenever. Get up here.”

Y/n moved up his frame. Wet pussy hovering over his face before he pulled her down to his mouth. Tongue sliding into her and coating her walls with his saliva. Y/n grabbed onto their headboard. Rolling her hips against his face, nose hitting her clit while his hands gripped her ass.

Y/n moaned into the large room. The tip of his nose hitting her clit with each roll of her hips. “Channie.”

Chan moaned into her as his hands had migrated to her hips and helped her rock against him. Her moans were muffled from him by her thighs. Her legs got tighter around his head with each swip of his tongue and nose.

“Need you inside, Channie,” Y/n moaned

Y/n peered down at him. Eyes closed as he ate her out. Enjoying the taste of her to the fullest. Chan kept her flush against him as she whined. The knot in her stomach tightening with each motion. Y/n moved her hands to grip his wrists. Holding on to him as he orgasm washed over her. A loud moan ripping from her throat.

Chan helped her through the high he set off before letting her off his face. Y/n sat up a bit and caught her breath as he moved her back over his hard cock. Y/n lifted his leaky dick from his stomach, positioning his tip at her entrance, and slowly sinking down. Chan held her hips as she sat down on him. Watching her head roll back as she took his size.

“Such a good girl for me,” Chan praised her

“Only you,” Y/n hummed as she placed her hands on his chest.

Slowly she started bouncing along his shaft. Chan took in the sight of her. Just like he always did in bed. His hands caressed her sides as she squeezed him just right.

His hands grabbed her hips again as she picked up her pace. Helping her bounce on him as her nails left crescents into the skin. Dragging her nails down his chest. Chan moaned under her as she smiled down at him. Dick twitching inside as she clenched around him for fun. Rolling against him as Chan tilted his head back into the pillow.

“Fuck baby. ‘M close,” Chan moaned

“Fill me up Channie. Pretty please.” Y/n begged

“Whatever you want.” Chan sat up and pressed his lips to hers.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her tongue slipping into his mouth and playing with his tongue as his hands gripped her hips tighter. Burying himself inside her as his orgasm washed over him. Whimpering into her mouth as she tried rolling her hips against him.

He flipped her onto her back, leaning down to her neck, “You’re turn baby.”

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senanatheskenana · 19 hours

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YOU MATTER TO ME <3

How do MHA characters show you they care?

~~~

Midoriya hugs you, gentle but reassuring, like soft calm clouds. He whispers beautiful nothings into your hair as he gently rocks you both, hushing you and kissing your delicate eyelids like all he was made for was caring for you. There's an understated tenderness in his touch that makes you never want to leave- your lighthouse in a storm that remains just as bright if only to guide you and save you from the tossing surge of the world outside of you both.

Bakugo struggles, hands shaking as he thrusts bouquets of sunflowers at your chest. He fights off a blush each time, acting as if he's forced to do such a thing; when in reality, he stays awake wondering what flower to buy you next to make you smile so brightly at him again. It's the kind of smile that makes his heart flutter in his throat as if butterflies are trying to escape and land in your soft hair

Kirishima loves rainy days. Not for the weather, but for you. The shallow, wide puddles give him an excuse to gather you in his arms and carry you like the princess he knows you are to the other side. He gazes softly down at you as you cling to his chest, wondering just what he did so right to deserve something as perfect as you. It's not much, he knows, but hopefully being your saviour from harmless puddles can show you just how grateful he is for you.

Iida holds open every door for you, moves every chair on your dates, and treats you like someone worth respect- because he knows you are. He knows better than anyone that you are worthy of every act. He makes your tea and brings it to you so you never have to move. Iida doesn't think its much- only a small amount of what you deserve. But every little act, he does with the utmost love and care.

Todoroki isn't wonderful at expressing his feelings. He'd much rather listen to you. And he does. He listens to every word and remembers every joke and every laugh. He's there through everything- laughter or tears. There's just something so radiant about you that makes him unable to speak, instead, all wrapped up in the colours of your voice. Todoroki would listen to every problem if it meant that you wouldn't ever have to worry again.

#mha #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #iida x reader #fluff #mha fluff #bnha x reader

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iloveoldermen-posts · 18 hours

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Pen-pals

Warnings: only the hapter to start things going and to set the vibe, part one of at least 10, i have not proof read ୨୧

Chapter 1 – Greetings.

He was forced into it, no way in hell would he ever do it on his own. But his also forced councillor thought it would help him to have connections to the outside world and ensured him that if it didn’t work out within two months, he could stop trying and never do it again. But he couldn’t tell her that or it would be ‘cheating.’

Which would probably deter people but as a chronic people-pleaser, I just couldn’t let that run. So, I tried my absolute hardest to fill my letters with copious amounts of joy so that there’s no way he couldn’t write back.

January 13th

Dear ‘Ghost’,

I was only told your call-sign to ensure maximum confidentiality – rules right. They told me that you were the only one who could tell me your real name so if you ever feel comfortable enough, I will happily learn all about you!

Here is some information about me; my name is Y/N, I am always helping people out for work (quite interesting if I do say so myself), I love to bake in my free time and my favourite time of the year is autumn (I just LOVE the mix of weather).

I always add some questions to these letters.

Why is your call-sign Ghost?

What’s your favourite thing to do when you aren’t deployed?

And finally, a simple one – what’s your favourite colour?

From,

Y/N.

P.S I was told you would probably take around a week – two to respond so don’t feel rushed to write back, I know how taxing your job tends to be :)

January 29th

Dear Ghost,

I hope you are doing well, I’m not sure if you received the letter I sent as you haven’t replied so I’m trying again just to make sure. My name is Y/N and I have a black Labrador that I love so much.

I have a hectic work schedule and I am always flying all over the world to help people. So I won’t always be able to write to you consistently. I hope that’s okay!

Instead of questions, I thought I would tell a little joke;

What do you call a shipment full of military-issued T-Rexes? SMALL ARMS.

:) hope you enjoyed that one because there are way more to come.

From

Y/N.

February 13th

Dear ‘Ghost’,

This will be the last letter I am writing to you as I believe someone could get through to you, it just won’t be me. So, I have requested to be swapped buddies.

I think it might be someone who’s in your unit, I think his name is John or Johnny – something like that. And I’m told I will be a better suit to them and their personalities.

So I hope you stay safe and are able to speak with someone who you can let your guard down too; even though they will never be as funny as me. Teehee :)

From

Y/N.

I’m quite sad that it didn’t work out as I thought we could have both benefited from it, but you know what they say – it is what it is. And at the end of the day, he needs someone he can truly feel comfortable talking to and I never did get to know him so it doesn’t affect me much in those terms. Even if a month was wasted by waiting for a never-to-arrive letter. Well the true term would be never-to-be-write-or-sent but we digress.

The birds hum a beautiful harmony as I post the final letter through the poorly painted post-box on the end of my road. As I turn to leave, the clouds above me start weeping uncontrollably at my departure.

I’ve never been one for signs but that can’t have been a coincidence.

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

They first two chapters will be mostly letters and then will move to texts and irl interactions - at least I plan...

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snzleclerc · 3 days

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i want him again - cs55

Carlos still remembered everything about you. Your scent, your voice, your laughter, your cheesy jokes - it was all etched in his memory.

Even though it's been almost 3 years since things ended between you two, he misses you more than anything in this world. You were his safe haven. But life moves on, and sometimes people drift apart, even if it's for the best.

Deep down, Carlos held onto a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you'd find your way back to each other one day. But he never imagined that day would come so soon.

In the bustling streets of New York, you wander in search of a quiet spot to unwind. You've only recently moved here after landing a new job, and surprisingly, you're adjusting pretty well.

You were never one to cling onto things, but your old apartment in Madrid holds a treasure trove of memories, especially memories with a certain someone.

A quaint little café catches your eye amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Without hesitation, you push the door open, causing a small bell to chime, announcing your arrival to the patrons inside.

As you scan the room for a place to sit, you feel someone's gaze lingering on you, unwavering and intense.

Turning your head, you lock eyes with a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes, and suddenly, time stands still.

Those eyes - they were like a window to a world you once knew so well. They held warmth, comfort, and a hint of longing. You can't help but let a shy smile tug at your lips, and you notice a similar smile playing on his.

It feels surreal as you take slow steps towards him, your heart racing with anticipation. Without a word, you slide onto the bench next to him, but your eyes do all the talking.

And from that moment on, it felt like old times again - late-night rendezvous, cozy movie nights in bed, and passionate moments shared between two people who just couldn't let go. All because deep down, you both wanted each other back in your lives.

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bonezone44 · 3 days

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Illuminate Me (18+)

Uncle!Dave x Fem!Reader

tags: body insecure!Reader, Soft!Dave, nylons, public sex, exhibitionism, unprotected p-in-v. Pet Names: little niece, sweetheart, doll, good girl.

Word Count: 1,5k

Author's Note: We got a new dirty Uncle over here! Come and get 'im!

-----

Your step-dad's brother, Dave, gets you a job at his office. Then he takes you to buy a whole new wardrobe of professional attire. While shopping, you try on a pair of nylon stockings in a large fitting room with lots of mirrors. Dave stands behind you in black slacks, blue shirt, and red tie. His blazer is laid across one of the chairs. He wraps an arm around your waist and slides his thick fingers down your front. He lightly rubs your clit through the sheer material.

"My little niece looks beautiful, doesnt she?," he murmurs in your ear with a smirk. His eyes look at yours through the mirror.

You're barely able to focus. His body is warm behind you and his lips tickle your cheek. He smells like expensive cologne and it makes you ache.

"Answer me, sweetheart," he says coolly.

You swallow thickly. "S-she does."

"She does what?" His fingers never stop rubbing you.

"She... she looks beautiful," you say, with your cheeks on fire. It feels like the filthiest thing in the world--to compliment yourself out loud. To compliment your looks in the presence of someone else. In the presence of a man. Especially considering what you have on. An old bra that fits wonky and a fresh pair of nylons that go high above your belly button, smoothing out all your features.

Dave's other hand slips beneath the satin fabric of your bra and exposes your breast. "She feels beautiful, too." He presses his hardness against your ass.

Dave intoxicates you. His hot breath on your skin. His teasing hands. You want to take off your clothes and fuck him properly.

The fingers on your clit move further down, poking at the nylons' liner, prodding against your entrance. He rubs back and forth, between your clit and your entrance. His large hand encompassing the entire space between your legs.

"You're my favorite, you know that?" He says as he tortures you. "I would dress you up and play with you every day if I could."

He never stops smiling, either. Your heart races in your chest. Your body is warm and tingling all over. You want to fall to your knees and wrap yourself around him. You want his cock inside you.

"Would you like that, sweetheart?" He asks, biting his lip. "You wanna let Uncle Dave play with his favorite doll?"

You nod quickly. "Yes, Uncle Dave," you stutter.

"Good girl." He pushes your upper half forward, and your hands fly up to brace yourself against the mirror. Dave’s hands poke and prod between your legs until you hear a loud rip. "Good girl," he hisses. "Good girl."

Next thing you know, his bare cock is pressed against your soaked entrance. You barely register the burn of him stretching you out--your whole body is on fire and you're desperate. You stare into his eyes through the mirror as he stares back into yours. He looks as if he's in pain--his brows pulled tight and his lips snarling. You don't dare to look at your own body or expression. But you know your mouth is hanging open, gasping for air as he maneuvers inside of you. Your eyes close on their own, waves of pleasure overwhelming you with each of Dave's measured thrusts. Your hands are firm against the mirror. You feel and hear Dave's breaths against your right ear. He's pressed up against you. His hands squeezing your breasts. He grasps at your belly, too, unable to fully grip it through the nylon material.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," he says tenderly. It's a struggle for you, but you comply. His eyes are in shadow and there's a smirk on his face. "Look at my beautiful doll. Look how gorgeous she is."

Your close your eyes again. Your chest goes tight. Was he mocking you? Why was he smiling and calling you beautiful? Was this all some big joke? Part of you wants to curl up and hide--it takes everything you have to keep your hands on the mirror. You close your eyes and hang your head down towards the floor. You don't know how to feel. You try to focus on the sparks of pleasure his cock brings you.

He stops moving, leaving his cock inside of you. You want to shrink even more. Your fingers tremble against the mirror. Now there's nothing! There's nothing to focus on. Nothing to feel. Nothing to distract you from the hateful voices in your own mind.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," he says again, but you shake your head. You want to disappear. You want to start over. You wish you were never born.

He pulls out of you and you pull your arms around yourself. You want to run, but you're essentially naked in the middle of a clothing store. Dave's the one who drove you here. There's nowhere to go.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he murmurs. He's at your front now, wrapping you in his arms.

"Nothing," you whisper.

"Look at me," he coos.

You shake your head again.

"Look at me," he says much more sternly. It scares you enough that your eyes burst open. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know," you stutter, because you don't. You don't know what's wrong anymore.

"Yes, you do. You know what's wrong. Tell me what's wrong." And he sounds so certain about it that maybe he's right. Maybe you do know what's wrong.

You close your eyes and think about it. Thinking about what made you stop. "I feel stupid. I feel like a joke."

"Why do you feel like a joke?"

You glance at his face. He doesn't look angered by your answer like you thought he would be. He looks concerned--confused. "I'm so ugly--"

"No," he says with the same certainty as before.

Now you're confused. "But--"

"No," he repeats coolly. "No, you're not. You're beautiful." One large hand rises to cradle your face. He speaks to you so matter-of-factly, with the same certainty as before. You begin to question everything you've ever told yourself. You close your eyes and breathe. When you look at him again, he's calm--patient. No one's ever been so patient with you before. You put your face into his chest and breathe him in, breathe in his cologne and his warmth. He leaves one hand on your cheek and steps back, pointing at the mirror. "Look. Look at how beautiful you are."

You look, but your mind doesn't register that it's you--that it's your own body reflecting back. Breasts pulled out of your bra. Hole ripped in your stockings. You shake your head.

"Why would I lie to you?" he asks with a shrug. There's no pressure to his question. He sounds genuinely curious.

"I--" you don't know how to answer. You're not sure why he would. You don't know what he gets out of all of this. He was so handsome, professional, powerful. There were secrets he kept, but everyone has secrets. And something about it tells you that the secret is definitely not another woman. Unless he has some alternate family somewhere--but you work with him now. You know his business trips are just that--business. You've even bought the plane tickets for him and booked his hotel rooms.

And why would he lie to you? Why would he be so patient and giving of his money and time? Your own parents had never offered so much. They were frustrated when you asked for just ONE new outfit for your new job. And here Dave was buying you an entire wardrobe--and gladly! Maybe it really was affection. Maybe he did have feelings for you. Maybe he did find you beautiful. And maybe it was the truth--maybe you were beautiful.

"I'm beautiful?" you asked, with tears in your eyes and quivering lips. It wasn't registering fully, but the feeling in your gut told you you were getting somewhere better than where you were before.

"You're gorgeous," he shrugged again.

You looked at him with a nervous smile of appreciation. He was so sweet. You'd never met a man so sweet. "Thank you."

"For what?" he smiled, caressing your cheek.

"Everything," you choke out through your tears. But they were happy tears.

"That's what uncles are for, sweetheart," he grinned. "For spoiling their beautiful nieces." He stepped closer to you. "Do you want me to keep spoiling you?" He said low, under his breath. You nodded immediately with an excited smile. He got behind you again. "Brace yourself." He smirked.

You put your hands on the mirror again. And instead of looking at Dave the whole time, you looked into your own eyes as he pounded into you and tapped your clit through the nylon material. 'I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful,' you told yourself again and again. It was a blur of pleasure and healing and wholeness. Dave rushed to cover your mouth when you came. You two hadn't been very discreet AT ALL for being in public.

The store associates were charming enough to not say anything when you rang out. It probably helped that Dave was easily spending several grand on your purchase. The woman at the counter gave you a tender, knowing smile as she handed over one of your many bags.

"Let's go out for lunch," Dave said with a proud smile as he grabbed your hand. You agreed, feeling lighter than you had felt in years.

+++++

#dave york x reader #x reader

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strawberrystepmom · 2 days

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umemiya x meteorologist f!reader. flirtation, world building, a little game played between the two of them. reader is a few years older than ume. | divider by cafekitsune, wc 1.6k

Since your first meeting with Hajime Umemiya, you’ve taught him the differences between the types of clouds. He’s become intimately familiar with the record high recorded temperatures in his home country and yours alike, as well as when humans began recording that type of thing. There isn’t much more you can teach him that isn’t technical application and you told him weeks ago you’d spare him from the boring specifics.

What he doesn’t know, though, is nearly enough about the woman who has spent the past eighteen mornings with him. Even on your days off, even on the days you used to skip over stopping at Cafe Pothos, you’ve been here bright and early and shining like the sun to spend some time with him. He wants to know everything he can, devising a plan on the fly to get you to divulge.

“Let’s play a game.”

His announcement makes you laugh, teeth biting down on the tip of your tongue and eyes crinkling at the corners. Everything he says is an announcement, his vivacious personality and natural knack for taking the lead even extending to his speech patterns. It’s something you have grown to like about him very much, your palms pricking with sweat when he assumes the specific tone that is firm but kind.

He makes your heart beat unusually fast if you’re honest with yourself although you are only interested in teaching a curious member of the public about your job. You didn’t sign up for romance or anything resembling it when you agreed to sit with him but today is your day off and you don’t have to report to the station at the usual barely dawn hour so you decide to bite, shrugging and wiping pastry crumbs off of the table in front of you.

“Okay. What did you have in mind?”

A smile to match your own dances across his handsome face. You lean forward with your elbow on the table (rude, you know…) and cup your chin in your palm, absentmindedly tracing the edge of the saucer beneath your coffee mug with your other hand. The little details are what Hajime has discovered he likes the most about you, warmth climbing up his neck as he watches your subtle movements. You won’t catch him off guard, though, and he tilts his head to the side.

“Let’s play twenty questions.” Another laugh from you, shifting your posture so that your back rests against the booth that holds the two of you. The shop is open, the regulars coming and going and taking a sidelong glance at what all the giggling is about from the corner of the room, but it feels as though no one is there at all when you’re around him. The world disappears and it’s what makes you decide to humor him.

“Sure.” Nodding, all too familiar with the old “get to know you” game, you hold your hand in his direction. “You go first since it was your idea.”

The man leans over the table himself, both of his elbows parked on the edge of it, hands on either side of his face. The most earnest set of eyes you’ve ever encountered blink at you, as honest as the rest of him is, his head remaining tilted like a curious puppy.

“How old are you?”

Despite yourself, you smile and shake your head at his question. He admires your lower lip and the way it curves, memorizing the shape easily and then looking away so he doesn’t give away too much. The curve disappears when you lift your cooled latte to your lips, sipping and raising a brow.

“Well I wasn’t expecting that to be your first question. You first, Hajime. How old are you?”

He pushes himself forward, scrunching his nose and leaning over the table as though he’s telling you a big secret.

“I’m 26.” You hiss, clicking your tongue against the top of your mouth. Playing the motion off as a joke, you raise your eyebrows but your gut churns with the realization that there is a little bit of an age difference between the pair of you, worrying about his reaction. He’s very kind but you can easily see whatever easy peace and flirtation exists between you two wrapping up today if he decides an older woman isn’t for him.

“I’m a few years older than you.” He leans forward on the table, his own brows raised, interest piqued. “How much older?”

“About three years.”

You’re on the precipice of your next phase of adulthood and he is blissfully enjoying the middle of his current one, not too far from the worries of the late twenties but far enough away he can pretend they’re something to be toppled later.

He chuckles, taking a look at your widened eyes and flat mouth, obviously amused that you are so concerned about the scant age gap.

“So? I like an older woman.”

Your face warms and you reach for your emptied coffee cup, staring dejectedly at the ceramic bottom. Is this his attempt at making you feel better or does he mean it? Eyes shifting from the cup to the man across from you, you let a half smile crawl across your face and fold your arms over your chest.

“Are you hitting on me, Umemiya?”

He leans back to mirror your stance, folding his own arms over his chest. You notice the way the sleeve of his t-shirt rides up over your bicep and feel the need to look away again. You fight the urge and stay glued to him, a single eyebrow raised. He copies you, making you giggle.

He is too good at that. It almost frustrates you how his natural ease makes you easier as a person. You’ve always prided yourself on being a tough egg to crack, hardened despite how gooey you are inside, yet he cracks you a little more with each smile, joke, or hand on the small of your back while he walks you to the door.

“I dunno, is it working?”

You need to figure out a way to end this today for both of your sakes though your erratic heartbeat betrays how you really feel at his insistence that he is indeed expressing his interest in you. He finds your struggle to believe it borderline amusing, the emotions etched across your face far more easily read than you know.

“Well, that’s very nice of you,” you finally reply, scrunching your nose and letting your face fall into a neutral expression. He shrugs, unfolding his arms and reaching for his own coffee cup that is still half full. “It’s not being nice, you’re just really fun to talk to and I enjoy our time together.”

Now the feelings you’ve been running from are inescapable and your chest feels warm. You have a bit of a thing for him, you’d be a liar to deny it. Knowing it’s returned? You weren’t prepared to topple that mountain today. You roll through excuses to leave in your head (my cat is sick, I have an appointment I forgot about) but none are able to be formed on your lips and you sit, pinned to where you sit by the weight of his steel blue gaze.

“And I wanted to ask, if it isn’t too much, if you’d want to do this over dinner instead of coffee sometime.”

No more excuses come to mind, just a blaring and flashing “yes”. That same old fight or flight kicks in, wondering if now is the time to break his heart and let him know that you’ve fooled him into thinking you’re decent company. You want to decline, to end things here and today, to leave him to someone else but you are at your heart as selfish as anyone else.

“I’d love that, actually.”

So you agree. The way his face lights up makes your palms sweat once again and you’re grateful they’re pressed against your light spring jacket so you can covertly wipe them. There is no cure for lovesickness other than to ride out the waves of overwhelming nausea that come with it and he smiles at you so softly a part of you believes he may be your lover already.

Finally settling yourself down, you raise a brow at him again and smile.

“Was that one of your twenty questions?”

He laughs at you from his heart, head tilting backward. Everything about him is so larger than life, his personality and his smile and his heart, and you wonder how this meeting even came to be. You aren’t so foolish as to believe fate plays a hand in everything but these mornings have felt nothing short of fated, two kindred spirits destined to meet and enjoy each other.

“I was going to ask you if you had a boyfriend for my next question but I guess I should have asked that before asking you out?”

Again, the pair of you devolve into giggles and Kotoha who mans the coffee station and the elderly woman she is serving both turn to look at the pair of you and then at each other. It has been like this for weeks and it shows no sign of stopping, the younger woman thinks to herself, glad she encouraged the man she has viewed as a brother her entire life to send the letters that he did to you. She’s known you since you moved to Makochi and feels as though her hand in all of this can’t be ignored, passing a cup across the counter to the woman smiling and shaking her head.

“Do you think they’ll have the wedding here?” The older woman jokes, making the younger one shrug and raise her hands innocently.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Misu-san.”

The woman casts her a glance and walks away, her cup in hand, leaving Kotoha’s view of the pair of you clear. You laugh and talk away, ignorant to the world around the two of you, and she smiles proudly, eager to hear about his bravery in asking you out as soon as you part ways.

#umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #wind breaker x reader #kendall writes #plumberry

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enjoythesilentworld · 2 days

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Wille's Month - Fashion/Style

wow day 15! @youngroyals-events tack! <3

AU. Crown Prince Wilhelm finally meets his favorite artist, Simon Eriksson, at the Met Gala.

read below or on ao3. (T, 1.4k)

Wille took a moment to steel himself, inhaling one long, deep breath, before he’d have to face the inevitable. He could already hear the shouts, the camera clicks, and none of those were even for him yet. It wasn’t often he found himself surrounded by this many other famous people, especially not of this caliber, so he was a bit nervous.

It was his own fault, really, that he’d found himself sitting in a black town car, in a stuffy suit, waiting to enter the most notorious fashion event of the year. But, with all of his duties as Crown Prince of Sweden, all of the handshakes and baby-kissing and ribbon cutting, he’d needed to carve something out that was his own. While he adored helping people and finding those tiny moments of joy in an otherwise suffocating role, Wille craved something that was just his. Delving into fashion had been his own personal fuck-you to the Royal Court at the beginning. They hadn’t been too keen on a big ‘coming out’ – and honestly, neither had Wille, not wanting to deal with all the drama – but the clothes he had a little more leeway with. Meeting with designers and learning about fashion was one of the few ways he could bring a bit of Wille into his position. If he wore things that were a bit more feminine or not-fitting for a straight crown prince, so what? The headlines would be what they were. It all helped him breathe a little easier, too, knowing that this part of his life was still his to control.

The theme of this year’s Met Gala was ‘Grimm Couture: Origins of Fashion’ and the dress code followed closely as ‘A Fairytale Encounter’. The royal-ness of it all hence why the Crown Prince of Sweden would be in attendance. Wille was honored, he supposed, to have been invited in the first place. It did seem a little bit too much like all the other events he usually attended – a night of rich people flaunting their wealth and pretending there were zero problems in the world – but the Court had insisted. Once he found out that Simon Eriksson would be attending, Wille had stopped putting up any sort of fight.

With a final gulp of air, he nodded to the driver. A moment later, the car door opened, and a million flashes and shouts hit him all at once. Blinking away the initial shock, Wilhelm stood and waved politely, the perfect-prince mask slipping into place. Not wanting to draw too much attention to himself but wanting to fit the dress code, Wilhelm had leaned into the fairy tale aspect. He chuckled slightly at the thought of Erik seeing him now, parading around in a light green and gold suit decorated with lily pads and willow branches. It felt nice to still have an inside joke with him, imagining Erik laughing at his little brother, The Frog Prince, attending such a prestigious event.

Slowly, he was guided, buffeted by multiple security guards, toward the main event and the main red carpet. He tried not to look too obvious as he glanced around, only really looking for one person. The saturation of fame in such a small space was astounding. Wilhelm was a different kind of famous from these people. A few tweets would be sent out by random people questioning his identity or purpose for being there and (hopefully) complimenting his suit. The rest of this crowd, though, were real famous people, renowned around the world. Like, for example, Simon Eriksson. The man was three-quarters of the way to an EGOT, and he was only 24. He also happened to be Wilhelm’s favorite music artist and the main star in his dreams. They followed each other on socials but had never spoken in real life. Tonight, Wille hoped, that would change.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Wilhelm spotted him. An absolute vision of sin, Simon Eriksson wore a deep purple affair, dripping in silver jewelry and pants so long and layered they might have been a skirt. His jacket was cropped and open in the front, revealing a bare, toned chest and midriff.

Voices shouting his official title shook Wilhelm out of his trance, and he let his eyes linger a second longer before turning to the photographers in front of him. Wilhelm made his way up the stairs distractedly, posing and half-heartedly answering interviewers questions. He simply could not look away from Simon, who was working his way up the other side of the stairs.

A few times, Simon caught Wilhelm staring and smirked devilishly at him. Wilhelm would whip his head back around and attempt to smooth his features, having to ask the poor journalist to repeat their question. Halfway up the stairs, Wilhelm zeroed into an interview Simon was giving right behind him.

“Simon, Simon! Tonight’s theme is all about fairy tale encounters. What fairy tales inspired your look tonight?”

Wilhelm couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder as Simon let out a warm laugh.

“Well, I’ve never been much of a believer in fairy tales. But looking around tonight,” Simon said thoughtfully, then turned and made direct eye contact with Wilhelm, “it seems I might find a prince of my own.”

Wilhelm, aware of their surroundings, sent a kind smile back, then quickly turned away to hide his blush.

The rest of their travel up the carpet continued as such, sending flirty glances at each other across the distance and adding piles of fuel to the media fire Wilhelm was sure to hear all about tomorrow. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Still, he did his best to answer the interviewers questions, wanting to be respectful of their time and also to plug some of the charities he was proud to work with.

As soon as he made it to the top of the carpet, Simon disappeared into the crowd. Wilhelm didn’t see him for hours. In fact, he thought he might’ve left. It wasn’t until the evening was beginning to draw to a close, and Wilhelm was beginning to accept the fact he’d never get more than a teasing look from a distance, that he ran into Simon in the men’s restroom.

“Kronprinsen,” Simon said in a mocking tone, dipping into a small curtsy. His pretty voice echoed slightly in the tiled room.

Wilhelm groaned. “Please, no. Just– Just Wilhelm is fine. Wille.”

Simon’s eyes were playful, and, at this closer distance, Wilhelm could see the intricate black and silver eyeliner accentuating them. Thankfully, it seemed the bathroom was empty, so no one would see just how weak in the knees Wille was feeling.

“Okay, Wille,” he nodded, “I’m Simon.”

“I know,” Wille blurted. “I mean, how are you enjoying the evening?

“Ugh,” Simon rolled his eyes, “I hate these things. All the fuss kind of makes me sick, but I’ve got an album coming out soon, so the label insisted. Plus, who am I to turn down Anna Wintour?”

“Well, you look absolutely incredible, regardless. I’m a little worried you’re in the background of all my photos and stealing my shine.”

The immediate light in Simon’s eyes was worth the slight blush on Wille’s cheeks. Unknowingly, they had both stepped forward, bringing them closer in the already small space.

“Oh, dear,” Simon drawled, raising a hand to grasp at Wille’s lapels, “Are you nervous that people are going to notice you’ve been staring at me all night?”

At their sudden close proximity, Wille swallowed dryly. His eyes flickered down when Simon wet his lips, as if in invitation.

“How could I have looked anywhere else?” he whispered into the space between them.

Simon hummed. “Were you planning on staying much longer, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” Wille groaned again and reached out to wrap an arm around Simon’s waist, then pulled him in. “But, no, In fact, I was just leaving.”

The last bit of space vanished between their bodies and Simon tilted his head up tauntingly, revealing even more of that beautiful neck of his. “I see. Me too.”

“Do you need a ride?” Wille asked, breathing the words into the sliver of air separating his lips from Simon’s.

“I’d love one.”

That was the last Met Gala either of them attended. Three years later, the notorious fashion event had a much smaller audience as the majority of the world turned its attention to the highly anticipated summer wedding of an Ex-Crown Prince Wilhelm and EGOT-winner Simon Eriksson.

#hot boys in suits!#and #simon in eyeliner #makes his return #willemonth2024 #suprise suprise i wrote another AU #wmday15 #crown prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #yr fic #wilmon #young royals

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whatifwewerebothgirls · 2 days

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Why is it important to you that siblings are blood related? I only ask because some of my friends have incest kinks, and step-siblings are just as hot as biological ones for them.

I'm not sure honestly. Like. It's just not incest if you fuck your step sister, yknow? That's just some girl whose mom married your dad. That's your roommate. Lots of people fuck their roommate. It's titles and legal status and all that kinda surface level labeling. It's like when you're a kid and your mom puts your Christmas present in a game console box but when you open it there's oranges inside. It says incest on the box and that's it. Even if you have a close relationship with her, she's your sister in name only. There's no reason you shouldn't fuck her except societal conditioning and in some cases the westermarck effect.

But blood related siblings is a whole different story. That's real incest. That's the progenitor of the taboo. None of the rest of it would exist. Step sibling incest is like the light of the moon. It's just a reflection of the sun, and while it's beautiful in its own right, it can't compare to the sun and can't exist without it. You can't make excuses for blood siblings. You can't talk your way out of the incest aspect. It can't be "okay".

I think I also idealize familial bonds since I don't really experience them myself. People will say things like "family's most important" or "family's the ones you can always count on" but to me family's always been just people in my house. So I imagine what it's like to actually have that bond, and it's hard to describe how comforting and intimate it feels in my imagination. Someone who will always love you, who knows you inside and out, who you can still joke around with, and if you take it too far you'll both be fine the next day and you don't even apologize to each other because you're siblings and you already know. It's the most casual relationship and yet the most intimate.

And all the world says that no matter how much you love them, you aren't allowed to love them THAT way. Isn't it the most beautiful thing to do it anyway?

I realise this is an extremist opinion though lol 🩵

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novelconcepts · 19 hours

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PLEASE elaborate on the yj videogame idea (if u want)

I dunno where it actually came from, but periodically @owltrifecta and I just spitball what an open-world game adaptation of the show would look like. The crash takes place, and then the player would just make an endless series of decisions that affect the outcome of the story. You can play it true to canon, or you can make changes, but every change would then mess with the story more. Like, yeah, you saved Laura Lee from the plane, but later on, she's trying to sabotage the rituals. Or you rescue Jackie, but then a bunch more characters die of starvation. Taissa stays awake and the wolves don't eat Van, but they press on too far, and find some other horror waiting in the dark. Just a delightful terrifying Choose Your Adventure in the wild.

It would just turn into this Reddit thread environment of people being like "I am trying to make Shauna the antler queen, does anyone know what series of events have to happen???" or "I accidentally got LOTTIE to the take the plane, and she blew up, now what?" You'd get players who try to speedrun their way out of the woods, caring only about getting their favorite out alive, and you'd get the ones who would not REST until they save everyone (spoilers: you cannot save everyone, no matter what you do). Some are only invested in coaxing their ship together. Some want so badly to kill Misty. Travis only makes it out in like a third of the playthroughs, but his death seriously fucks up your chances of getting Natalie out safely.

And, in the middle of it all, you've got Van the unkillable goalie. It becomes a Thing for a subset of players, trying to take her out, but she just. won't. die. Players try to lure her into the frozen lake, thinking they've done it, but when spring rolls back around she's just loitering on the shore. She goes over the cliff? Just rolls to the bottom, unscathed. Set her on fire, the game glitches spasmodically, and then she's just standing there with a few burns and a shrug. My favorite idea in this was Owl positing that Van is the only character who can--and will, if you try to deliberately kill her enough times--break the fourth wall. The only one who understands she's in a story. "Oh, did you think you were in charge here? Joke's on you, dude. It chooses. You don't."

#ask #yellowjackets #it would be fucking delightful and so so upsetting to play #no two playthroughs are the same even if you think you're making the same choices #there are always tiiiiiny little ramifications #and the glitches are just bonkers #after doomcoming someone just gets stuck tripping out for the rest of the game #jackie dies but her voice keeps echoing whenever shauna's onscreen and none of the other characters react #taissa glitches out and there are suddenly two of her in any given scene. one does what the player wills. the other does not.#there's a whole weird DLC where you play as nugget #the opportunities are just boundless

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livelaughlovesubs · 21 hours

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Oki doki follow up question since you DO infact like Magito! (Ppl are so mean to enjoyers of him :(

What's your favorite nsfw headcanon? I'm sure you've got them. I love hearing others hcs for my favorite blorbos <3

Ohhh I have a silly headcanon that he wants to know what it’s like to be knocked up as a girl.

And I feel like he’d be into cream pie, or cum in general

Like having it on his face - aka eating out, giving bj, just cum play

He’s very sado-maso if you ask me, and he’d definitely have a gore fetish too

What I mean is he likes blood, his own or yours, depends on how he’s feeling

Annnd he likes wounds, like the fatal ones. He can’t die cuz of them anyway so he doesn’t mind it if you just, like, chop off his arms

No joke now, I feel like he’d be into amputation, probably on himself and others 💀 (but I think he is sub leaning, like 70/30?)

Probably not really considerate for what you like, except you have a strong personality and can defend yourself, then he (might) not cross your boundaries. Otherwise if you are too gentle he would do things you don’t like too.

He seems like the type to be into orgies haha, but it’s not his strongest kink? Like he can go on without it too, but he’d like it

Then I also imagine him being experimental, as long as he knows he has the upper hand

So these bdsm things are purely entertainment for him, deep down he knows he can overthrow the situation whenever he wants

But if exactly that security is taken from him… the fear in his eyes would be so damn delicious, the cries, whimpers and shaking, just everything

WOULD stalk you, jerk off to you while you sleep and all the disgusting stuff

I imagine him very degenerate hehe, so it’s very fun, bc then I’d have all the rights in the world to write the most sadistic and filthy shit about him know to mankind

Would love to be romantic with him, or cute and soft, and honestly? It would be fun even, he knows how to act human

But he’d never mean the things he does, so it’s better to not even open that possibility if you don’t want to end up hurt. I think he is aromatic haha

The closest thing to love he can feel is obsession, and I’ve already described a little what he would do

Yeaaaaa, those are my silly little thoughts, thanks for asking and listening :>

#nini!rant #sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub jjk #sub jujutsu kaisen #sub mahito #mahito x you #mahito smut #mahito x reader #jjk mahito #mahito jujutsu kaisen #mahito jjk #mahito #mahito x y/n

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desideriumwriter · 23 hours

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Hi,

So I thought about this idea where George comforts Y/N (his girlfriend) when she is on her period🥹

Thanks in advance!

Have a nice day!

Love, Annelies

lmao im writing this on my period, this is such a sweet concept! also i’ve always wondered how periods work in the wizarding world? are there pain numbing potions? does ibuprofen exist??? anyways, tysm for the request hope you enjoy! <3

wc: 855

navi | g.w. masterlist

Right now, dinner in the Great Hall is usually where you’d be, laughing and chatting with friends. However, today you were curled up in your bed, grimacing and holding onto your lower abdomen in pain.

What was just a dull ache an hour ago had now become excruciating cramps.

As soon as you got back from your last class, you changed into pajamas and sunk into your bed. The pain was gnawing at your insides. You shut your eyes and wished for the aching to magically be over.

The door creaked open, you sighed, not wanting any company, and when you turned your head towards the door. A mop of ginger hair peeked in.

“George? What’re you doing in here?” You lifted your head, looking at him with a confused expression.

“I was wondering the same thing, I was looking all over for you in the Great Hall.”

“You can't be in here, you know.” You muttered, you were already confused on how he was able to sneak out of the Great Hall and into the girls bedroom anyways.

“Says who?”

“When have I ever listened to those?” He scoffed playfully, you just smirked and shook your head, too exhausted to carry on a conversation.

“Why aren’t you at dinner anyways?” He said as he sat down next to you.

“I just don’t feel well.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. George’s brows knit in concern.

“You’re sick?” He asked, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“No, not really, just cramps.” You sighed, pulling his hand away and holding it instead.

George’s mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ shape, he took a second before he stuck his hand into his pockets.

“Well, um, I guess the chocolate I may or may not have taken from the table will come in handy, right?” He pulled a few wrapped up sweets from his pocket, handing one out to you.

“Chocolate helps with…you know?” It brought a small smile to your face seeing how awkward yet polite George was when talking about this.

“Periods.” You looked at him amused as you took a chocolate from his hand, unwrapping it and popping it into your mouth. “You can say the word, it’s not a curse.” Having it absolutely feels like it though.

Before George could say anything, another small stabbing pain shot through your abdomen, causing you to grimace and let out a small groan.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head weakly. George frowned, in moments like these, all he wanted to do was help.

“Maybe you could just lay with me?” You suggested, nodding to the space behind you. George happily did as you asked.

If he couldn’t take away your pain, the least he could do was provide some type of comfort.

He shifted and snuggled up behind you, gently wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling your back to his chest. You let out another small groan at the movement, earning a small apology from George.

“Merlin, I wish there was a spell to get rid of this.” Your voice felt strained.

“Have you tried seeing Madam Pomfrey? Maybe she’s got a potion for this.” He said, placing his hands over yours.

“The most she can do is give me a hot wet rag.” You pouted.

“How long do the cramps last? An hour?”

“Usually almost a full day.” You said flatly, George lifted his head up to look at you.

“Are you serious?” He looked genuinely shocked, a bit horrified.

“Sometimes two if it’s bad.” You raised your brows and smiled, finding his wide eyes and knit together brows humorous.

“I’ll never complain again.” He said, you let out a weak chuckle as he placed a kiss onto your temple.

“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

“You could create a sweet that gets rid of cramps.” You half-joked. George let out a small hum, laying his head back down.

“Well, that’d take a few test runs, and Fred and I don’t have…” He trailed off.

“Ovaries?” You finished the sentence for him, less explicit than what he was thinking.

“Yeah. Plus, I doubt any girls around here would be up for doing trial runs.” He tsked. “Maybe I could make a supply kit? A cramp crusade kit.” You began to chuckle.

“That’s what you’d call it? A cramp crusade kit?” You said through your laughter.

“Yeah! Not bad, isn't it?” He nodded from behind you, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shook your head in amusement. George being there didn’t actually take away any of the physical pain, but he did distract you from it.

After your laughter subsided, you grabbed his warm hands and placed them over the tender spots, you let out a small sigh of relief. The warmth was quite pleasant. Your back now felt less tense when you felt his chest rise and fall against it.

“Thanks George,” You breathed out as you closed your eyes. “for being here with me.” Your thumb brushed over his hand.

“Anything for you.” He grinned, pressing a kiss to hair.

tell me what you thought!

#george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley x you #requests

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snarky-wallflower · 1 day

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okay. i'm finally gonna try my hand at this analysis thing. @kmesons, i hope you don't mind that i've been spinning this in my head since yesterday.

for a bit of context, it's a bit of a running joke that i'm in my "curtwen arc" with a bunch of people - just a silly joke, right? and i always, always play curt.

oh boy, i don't think anything stays a joke in the spies fandom for long.

so. let's talk about how curt has been mourning a ghost for four years. let's talk about how he replayed the memories of their time together over and over again in his mind, of laughter and quick shots and the love there. let's talk about how curt has tried to commit every part of the owen he knew to memory - after all, "owen would want me to do this, so i know that i'll get through this". let's talk about how curt has spent four years lost in drink and regret and the memories of the man he thinks he killed. those memories are all he has left of owen - what else can he cling to?

let's talk about how curt saw owen for the first time, alive, and was taken aback by the sheer hate in owen's voice as he made reference after reference to the fall, casually insulting curt, calling him a fool and a coward. about how owen had given up on the beliefs that had first brought them together.

(the owen he knew never would have done that. the owen he knew was one of the few people he knew that treated him as an adult, as someone who was more than just a cocky spy. )

let's talk about curt chasing after owen, chasing after a ghost - but this time, he's physical, alive and real. curt could reach out and touch him this time, if he wasn't so sure that owen would take it as a strike, a blow to hurt. curt isn't even sure if it isn't that yet. owen still won't stop taunting curt, dragging him ever-so-closer to the edge, as a spiralling pit opens up in curt's stomach. owen is so cruel, so unlike the man he lost four years ago. the memories they shared are dissolving, falling just like owen did, as every insult, every blow reopens old wounds.

old wounds that owen had once helped him stitch together.

(the owen he knew would have rolled his eyes, would have made snippy comments as they traded blows, but he had loved curt. curt knows this like he knows the back of his hand. it's been four years. has he been wrong all this time?)

(god, what does it mean if he has been?)

curt has spent so long sustaining himself on memories of the time they shared that he just can't look at owen and not see the man he used to be. curt doesn't even blame owen for hating him, really. curt hates himself most days, too. but this? what about the beliefs they shared? what about making a difference? on the staircase, he can barely look owen in the eyes anymore, so utterly terrified of seeing what the man he loved has become. a poltergeist, a revenant, something dead walking the earth with hate in his heart. how he rants and raves, trying to get curt to see, which curt utterly refuses to. curt tries so frantically to reach out, to make owen someone he can save, but owen will never, ever be that person for curt again. there are so many versions of this scene, aren't there? but in this one, in so many, in every world where curt and owen simply cannot communicate--

(the owen he knew doesn't exist anymore.)

let's talk about how curt raised his gun. at the man he loved, at the man he spent so long mourning.

let's talk about how curt stared up at owen, raising his gun to his temple, and recognized both so much and so little in those eyes, in him. let's talk about how he recognized the spark in owen's eyes, but not the sheer betrayal behind it. how he knew the exact colour of those eyes, but not the tremble in owen's voice as he demanded to know what curt was doing.

the man he loved wasn't there anymore.

let's talk about how curt pulled the trigger.

let's talk about how curt has to live with that for the rest of his life, but he still pulled the trigger. how owen carvour after the fall was someone curt couldn't save, who didn't want to be saved.

...but especially not by curt.

after mourning a ghost for four years, agent curt mega ended it for good.

agent curt mega killed a ghost. but he killed a ghost with owen's face and owen's wit, owen's anger - you can't break the will of a man, but you can do so much worse, if you try. and oh, how curt's tried to destroy himself over the years. how he's just now destroyed the shell of a man that he built his love around, and then his grief, and then both again as owen carvour falls to the floor.

it will haunt curt. for however much longer he lives.

spies aren't forever. curt knows this better than anyone.

#spies are forever #owen carvour #agent curt mega #snarky speaks #YES HI I AM SAD ABOUT THE SPIES #im gonna go to bed now

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mossy-rot · 10 months

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having thoughts about the narrator and the fact that if he got out of the parable he would have horrible agoraphobia

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egophiliac · 11 months

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Have you heard of the "Crowley is Malleus' dad" theory going around? Where Prince Levan (or whatever his name is) didn't actually die and just went out to get some milk and is now known as Dire Crowley, the silly man? The implications of that theory is absolutely hilarious when you think about it

hold on, we can figure this out, we just need LISTS

PROS THAT CROWLEY IS SECRETLY REVAAN/LEVAN/LAVERNE/WHATEVER:

unspecified fae of some kind, with similar coloring to Mal

the animal masks are apparently a Briar Valley thing

has some kind of big blackmailable secret that was alluded to in episode 4, and then as far as I know never brought up again

(unless this was just Azul bullshitting, which is extremely possible)

based on Diablo, which...maybe means something?

has canonically worn Dad Shorts

CONS:

(gestures to Crowley's entire personality)

NO LISTEN Revaan was the guy they sent off on diplomatic missions and to take care of delicate political situations, and...look, I love this dweeb, but would you trust Crowley to be in charge of negotiating your war treaties

despite my brain insisting on reading his name as "Raven", Revaan's title does imply that he was also a dragon (or super into longan berries, I'm not ruling that out)

currently unclear why Lilia "my closest friend Revaan...he is no longer with us...I used to make fun of him for being kind of a priss about eating jerky..." Vanrouge has somehow not noticed or said anything

Malleus' Aloof Anime ~Aristocrat~ vibe had to come from somewhere, and by all accounts it was NOT his mom's side of the family

???:

turns into a bird in the opening, I don't know if that means anything but it's kinda cool, I guess

all that aside, if Malleus and Yuu are any indication, then the Draconias have...questionable taste in their social choices. so anything is possible!

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #disclaimer that this is half joke and half speculation so like. please take it in good spirits and don't yell at me #right now i'm leaning away from crowley being revaan because i think the evidence is currently circumstantial at best #but who knows what the future will bring!#man. whenever i consciously remember that crowley is diablo it also reminds me #that his name is supposed to be pronounced like dear and not like the word dire #which always fucks me up a little bit. this is the worst thing about him bar none.#damnit crowley #anyway every time a new part comes out i rewatch the opening just in case there turns out to be any more foreshadowing #(there never is)#(but that ONE really quick bit where you can see overblot azul means i always have to look)#which is to say i have been carefully reanalyzing all the crowley bits and i have reached the conclusion #that i still have no idea what is going on with him #he may be the world's biggest mastermind or the world's biggest idiot and these are not mutually exclusive #(this is a strictly pro-crowley post btw)#(i'm allowed to make fun of him because i love him dire-ly)

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