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peach-and-bugs · 10 months

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💚Bean Sprout - Lottie Matthews x fem!Reader💚

ch 1 - chapter 2 - ch 3

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: You've been happily married to Charlotte Matthews for some odd years now, but it feels like it's time to take a step in a new direction together... aka mama!Lottie

Warnings: suggestive conversation & implication, insecurity

Word Count: 1,346

A/N: Hello Loves, we're back with more Mama!Lottie! I kept this one on the shorter side compared to most chapters I write, but this one kinda ended pretty naturally and I didn't feel like forcing more into it. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! 💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List: (open) @elliesjoints

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

"Bean Sprout" Tag List: @mistysswampmud @emilynissangtr

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

Of course, a much longer conversation was had, and after a few weeks of intense organization, you both moved on to talking with doctors about your options. You agreed together that you’d carry, seeing as you were younger. You’d argued that 34 wasn’t all that much younger compared to 38, but Lottie had only laughed, shaking her head. It had been some time now, and you'd had begun taking a wide variety of supplements as you started tracking your cycle to get the IVF going.

On this evening, you were lying flat on your back on the couch, flipping through a binder of potential male donors that the clinic had given you to look through held over your head. Lottie moved into the living room from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of tea with her. She set one down on the coffee table in front of you before she tapped at your feet, silently asking you to scoot. You lifted your feet but didn’t look up from the binder.

“This is so weird,” You grumbled. Lottie sat at the other end of the couch with her feet up on the coffee table as she moved your feet across her lap.

“What’s weird, love,” she hummed, taking a sip of her still-steaming tea. She’d been brewing raspberry tea all week partly because of its boost for fertility but also just because she loved the flavor with honey. You sighed, turning through to another page of the binder, your eyes scanning over strange men’s faces and credentials for why you should pick them.

“Flipping through this book just to choose who we’ll use to make our baby,” you scrunched your nose at the wording with a scowl that made Lottie chuckle into her cup. “I wish you could just get me pregnant,” You mused under your breath as you flicked through the binder again, only to look away once more when you heard Lottie hum.

“I’d be lying if I didn’t think about that,” you perked up at the admission, dropping the binder to your stomach as you looked up at her with an arched brow.

“Oh, have you now?” you mused with a wicked grin. Lottie realized her mistake and refused to look up from her cup, now taking another long sip in an attempt to shield her eyes. The binder was forgotten and slipped onto the coffee table as you moved from you’re lying position. You readjusted, sitting up on your knees beside your wife, the proximity being enough for her to feel your breath fanning over the skin of her neck. Still, she didn't look up, her eyes trained on the cup in her hands as she stirred it with the tiny metal spoon she’d brought with her.

“Charlotte,” you murmured her full first name in that sing-song tone you so often use. She both loved and hated when you'd do that because, on the one hand, she adored the sound of her voice leaving your lips, but on the other, she knew what game you were playing. You grinned and took the cup out of her hands, moving to the coffee table beside your own because it had become quite offensive the amount of attention it was getting as opposed to you. You could hear Lottie swallow as you moved to straddle your thighs over her lap, arms looping ever naturally around her neck as you tilted your head with an innocent look.

“Tell me about it,” you mused, batting your eyelashes as she looked up at you as though she’d been caught in your headlights. You ran your fingertips over her forehead, brushing away loose hair that obstructed your view of her, your ever-beautiful wife who’d grown shy at her admission. You knew Lottie had a lot of thoughts when it came to this pregnancy, not all of them being the most innocent.

She rarely ever talked about it, but it had come up long before. Before you were married, even when she had been very drunk one night, her loose lips had let it slip that the thought of her partner carrying a baby, well, specifically your baby, together, was quite exciting, but not only because of the anticipation. She’d felt horrible the next morning, having realized what she’d said, which led you both down a long rabbit hole of conversation to normalize and help her feel better, that thinking that way about your partner was completely normal, and you found the idea quite flattering.

You knew that given the current conversation buzzing around the house, some of those thoughts and feelings could potentially be found fronting in her mind, though she hadn’t said anything about it till now. And though you now questioned her in a way that made it clear you also found her thought arousing, she held her tongue, keeping her fantasy to herself, much to your disappointment, but you weren't going to push.

“Well, if you aren't going to tell me, at least help me pick a baby daddy, won’t you?” that phrasing caught her attention now, and you felt her arms snake around your hips, tugging you into her ever so slightly as her eyes found yours with a scrunch in her brow.

“We aren’t calling him that,” there was a hushed harshness to her insistence that you relished in, biting your lip as you laughed. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed her lips but retreated before any heat could be added. “What was that,” Lottie asked, finally smiling with a curious crook in her brow.

“I like it when you get jealous,” you murmured, pecking at her cheek as you leaned away to reach for the binder again.

“I wasn’t jealous-” she began to argue as you readjusted yourself over her lap, now letting your legs stretch over the couch as you’re back rested against the arm of the couch. Lottie’s right arm curled around your side while her other hand found its place comfortably over your thigh as you presented her with the binder.

“Anyways, how do we even choose a doner when we haven't picked an egg yet,” Lottie asked, changing the subject. You pressed your lips in a frown. Neither of you had considered that portion yet.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter to me. The doctor said we could use either of our eggs,” you recalled. You looked up at your wife to notice a fleeting unsureness in her gaze. “Does that worry you?” you blinked up at her. She faltered as she began to speak, her hand aimlessly starting to rub at your back as she considered her words.

“I do worry about using my eggs, yes,” she eventually managed. You wanted to urge her to elaborate till it dawned on you.

“Lot, are you worried about passing your mental illness to the baby?” She didn’t have to answer to verify your suspicion. “Well, we can always use my eggs and find someone similar to you as our donor. That way, it feels more like an even mix, you know?” you brushed your thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Plus, that’ll shrink our pool of candidates and make picking a donor easier,” She seemed relieved by how seamlessly you could solve her worries, though she still had concerns.

“But I worry it’ll feel more like you’re having a baby,” she murmured, her eyes fleeting from yours once more. You turned her chin with your hand, giving her a scowled look.

“Lottie. Regardless of who’s carrying or who’s dna is being used, this is our baby. Yours and mine because we’re the ones going through this pregnancy together, and we’ll be the ones raising this child when it’s done, ok?” She sighed, and you could feel her relax under your touch, taking your hand in hers to kiss your fingertips, silently giving you her thanks for understanding. You smiled, letting go of a satisfied breath through your nose before turning back to the binder.

“Now help me pick a sperm donor so we can get this show on the road,”

#◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets x reader #lottie yellowjackets #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #mama!lottie yj

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bubble-dream-inc · 1 year

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Lemniscate (the place between sleeping and awake)

a chance encounter with your superior during a very lonely holiday season leads to an interesting conversation and an insight on yours and Ghost’s relationship.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 4,8k

a/n: i had to repost this bc tumblr was being fussy and hiding it oops. also i was listening to so handsome hello by woodkid while writing this so there’s my song rec for the day. i am down bad for this man someone help me! thank u loml @deafeningcat for being the best beta reader ever, always <3

warnings: explicit talk about death, war, trauma and violence, suggestive, profanity, ghost being ooc, sex as a coping mechanism for ptsd, heavy antimilitarism, angst to fluff, slight prey and size kink if you squint, non intentional liverpool slander, reader is part of 141, soap calls you "bonnie" once but otherwise no gender especified for reader, reader thinks they can fix him and is sorta emotionally dependent so its kinda toxic idk, intentional repeating of words, christmas/holidays ambience. MDNI

The puddles rippled under your boots, and right there under the faint street light which reflected the light drizzle of rain darkening the already pitch black night sky, you remembered how much you hate the holidays. Sure, it felt nice not having to worry that much about being ambushed or shot or killed for once, but you’d be lying if you said you looked forward to having time off from work. Having spent the last few years constantly living on edge, running solely on the primal instinct of survival for weeks on end had you addicted to the adrenaline, and you forgot what it’s like to be completely at ease a long time ago.

You felt your skin dampen under your clothes in the humid air. You haven’t bothered with an umbrella; you have been through worse. Liverpool was never your cup of tea, the sky was too gray and the wind felt like tiny needles attacking your skin on the rare occasion it wasn’t raining, and in moments like these you missed the scorching summer sun from your hometown. But again, could you really call it home? That thought had been lingering in the back of your head as an ugly reminder of one of the shittiest parts of your job ever since a few days ago when the base you were stationed in was filled with the sound of rambunctious laughter and the smell of cheap cigarettes and beer, all of it a reflect of a mission well done. The intel was useful, the danger was dealt with, and your teammates could not be more grateful the timing was just right so that they could go spend some time off with their families for the holidays. You weren’t really thinking too hard about it, too absorbed in your teasing banter with Gaz, until Soap turned to you.

“What about you, bonnie? Where ya spendin’ your holidays at? Going home?”

You had shaken your head no with a chuckle, swallowing the bad taste the word home left in your mouth and masking your discomfort. Having all their attention on you as your team mates waited for your answer wasn’t inherently bad, but you did have to ignore Simon’s piercing stare from across the group, focusing only on Soap and trying to not give in to your instinct of looking back at your Lieutenant. As the years went by, you’d found out that was just the way that he was, and you had to learn how to differentiate when he actually wanted for someone to be scared by his constant, terrifying eye contact, and when to know he was simply looking in your general vicinity. Not that it worked that well, of course, since just his massive presence and the low timbre of his voice could make anyone’s fight or flight instinct blare sirens in their head, and yet, at some point you realized you liked it. You felt like a prey under his gaze, and the fact that it both terrified and excited you was intoxicating.

“Nah. I’m heading to Liverpool, i think, as usual”

Being in Liverpool for you was far from pleasant, but a few years before you decided to go there for your time off just because it was closer to the base you were stationed in and you had nowhere else to go, and it became a tradition, even if it sometimes felt like self punishment. It certainly seemed like it, you thought as you wandered aimlessly through a quieter part of the city, occasionally passing through a group of tipsy barely-of-age kids, or a happy looking family going back to the comfort of their cozy homes together. It made your chest ache, but the loneliness got duller after so much time being surrounded only by the 141 members and having to watch so many people you knew die on the front lines.

“Do you regret it? Joining the military?”

You had asked Ghost one day after you two had to get holed up in a dingy safe house, trying to pass the time while waiting for exfil. He had stared at you for a few seconds, silently, and you wondered if you had crossed a line by asking something way too personal, but in a moment he was back to staring at the worn out coffee table in front of the couch you were in.

“No. I did what had to be done at the time.”

While somewhat cryptic, you accepted his answer without prying for more, but after a few seconds he looked back at you, not going unnoticed how his eyes looked a bit more tired than usual.

“Do you?”

You remember sighing.

“Everyday. War is hell.”

He only hummed in response, putting an end to the conversation that had barely been started, but your mind dwelled on your answer. It seemed like ages ago when you were a starry-eyed private, having been fooled by the military propaganda promising you’d be a hero, but that resolve quickly broke a few months later in your first mission, and you certainly didn’t feel like a hero after taking someone else’s life for the first time.

Lost in thought as you walked, you almost paid no mind to the man in your path that was leaning towards a lamp post and having a cigarette, if not for the fact that even from a distance you could see he was massive. There was only one person you knew that seemed as tall as that, and that was your-

“Lieutenant?” You squinted, being pretty sure you couldn’t mistake your towering 6’4 masked superior over someone else, and he acknowledged you with a look. If he was surprised to see you, he didn't show it. “Liverpool sure is tiny, huh? I thought you were from Manchester.”

“I am.”

His answers were rarely something other than short and dry, and he knew you knew better than to pry into his own personal reasonings, even because you also had no real reason to stick around that city and yet there you were. Still, the laidback-ish atmosphere of being between missions made it easier for you to act a little more daring than usual, treading lightly as you questioned him, unable to hold back your curiosity. Alas, you found yourself hypnotized by the way Simon’s full lips wrapped around his cigarette as he took a slow drag, waiting for you to say something.

“Heading somewhere?” Your voice sounded foreign even to yourself, and you didn’t know whether to blame the cold, the awkwardness of feeling like you were bothering your superior on his time off, or the way just being by his general vicinity made your chest ache with a feeling you hadn’t quite been able to name yet, but you shrugged all of it off and focused on trying to act as normally as possible.

“Not really. Are you?”

“Not really” You mimicked his words, smiling faintly and wanting to imagine that you actually saw mirth in his eyes. “Lookin’ for a pub that’s still open, but I'm not having too much luck with it.” You paused, unable to stop the next words that came out of your mouth. “Care to join me?”

Ghost pondered your bold request for a moment before putting out his cigarette by stepping on it and nodding with his head for you to lead the way. His way of communicating with so little words made you uneasy at first, but nowadays you’d find it endearing.

And that’s how you ended up in a beaten up looking pub near the port, sitting side by side with Simon by the bar, acutely aware of the bartender eyeing you two warily. You weren’t sure if he was angry for the fact that the bar actually had customers, which meant he couldn’t go enjoy time off at home, or if he was intimidated by Ghost. Maybe both. It was an otherwise cozy little pub, the warm lighting and the low ceiling made you feel slightly comforted by your surroundings, even if there were only three other customers around and the air smelled of burnt oil and deep fried food. You tapped your fingers on the wooden surface of the bar while waiting for the grumpy bartender to bring your beer, comfortable with the silence between you and Simon. When it arrived, you watched with a side eye, trying to be discreet, as he raised his mask slightly to take a sip of his bourbon, even if you knew he had noticed you.

Ghost’s face was somewhat familiar to you. Less than his body, admittedly.

There were a handful of times you had seen him without his mask, but you had barely committed its features to memory since it had mostly been in the dark confines of his quarters - which made you think how nice it must be to have a rank high enough to have your own room - and in times where staring at his face was not the first thing on your mind. It didn’t matter anyway, knowing he really was handsome after all under the balaclava didn’t change how your chest would tighten at the sight of him way before you dreamt of seeing his whole face.

Being alone with your superior was hardly foreign at this point, after so many years and everything you had been through together, and while you had never said it directly to him, his company was enjoyable. You remember clearly; It had happened the first time during mid summer after a mission gone particularly wrong in Somalia. One hour in the shower later, scrubbing your skin raw, you still felt dirty and grimy, as if you believed you could let go along with the blood-dirtied water the screams of all the civilians you had heard and the image ingrained into your brain of all the innocent people lying dead on the streets, massacred without a second thought. You tried showering, smoking, drinking, going for a walk, talking to your fellow team mates - all of them who looked just about as shaken as you were - but nothing could get your mind off of it. Mid walk, you had rounded a corner inside the base and locked eyes with Ghost, who was coming from the opposite direction, and, for reasons unknown, something instantly changed in the air between you. Sure, you had flirted a bit and perhaps given some indication of your attraction towards him before, but at that moment maybe you looked more distraught than you thought, and in only a split second after the very sudden eye contact, a non-verbal agreement was set, and quickly you found yourself glued to his broad chest, his hand lifting his mask just enough so you could connect your lips in a messy and aggressive kiss as he guided you to the door of his room. There’s no way to tell how long you were there for, but as you felt him blindly in the dark to hug his neck while he was inside you for the nth time, you were grateful he didn’t comment on your sobs that you now allowed to flow as freely as your tears, and, in turn, you didn’t comment on how tender your huge, scary superior could be, holding your face gently and whispering praises, comforting you the best he could.

It became something akin of a habit. At first it was just fucking to destress or to not have to deal in a proper way with all the trauma that came with your line of work, but then you started to linger. His touches became gentler, his big hands would stroke your skin instead of just gripping it hard enough to bruise, and you found yourself staring at his strong and scarred back one morning as he slept somewhat soundly beside you. Your hands itched to trace them, and at the moment you decided you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed, literally, with your superior more often, it was when you also realized you were fucked. To the others, surely it looked just like a very unethical and paperwork-worthy sexual tension, but you weren’t stupid, and not a teenager anymore, so you couldn’t find any excuses for the lingering glances and touches, how you started worrying more for him in battlefield, and you didn’t know if it was comforting or terrifying for you to think that he probably realized what was going on inside your head whenever he looked back at you, even if his hardened and unreadable gaze never faltered. Some nights, you’d find yourself alone in your cot wondering if you were imagining it all or if the longing you felt for his reciprocity was too delusional, and the thought made your throat ache in the worst way possible. You knew it was a bad idea, but you were unable to restrain yourself from finding your way back to his bed more often than not - and whenever he’d open the door for you when the base was already dead silent, realizing he also seemed glad to see you made all of your rational thoughts go out the window.

“Quit the starin’.”

Oh. Right. You were still looking at him. You muttered out a low sorry and looked down at your cup, well aware of Simon’s gaze burning holes into your face. So much for not staring.

“Why don’t you ever go home?”

There’s that word again. You wondered if your experience with feeling so stateless after fleeing from the place you used to call your own such a long time ago was that uncommon between soldiers, and suddenly the beer in your tongue didn’t taste that bitter anymore.

“It was just a place like any other. I’m afraid there hasn’t been anythin’ for me there in a while, so i guess i don’t really got one anymore.”

But again, you did wonder why Simon was all the way over to Liverpool and not Manchester, and a part of you selfishly hoped you weren’t alone with the gut wrenching feeling of not belonging anywhere but your base. Not that he’d ever admit to something like that. Simon was not the kind of man to say his thoughts clearly, or with words, for that matter.

“No family? Friends?”

Chuckling dryly, you’d let yourself linger a bit longer on Ghost’s sudden interest in actually knowing you more than physically if his bluntness didn’t amuse you in a bitter way.

“People realize really quickly how hard it is to keep relationships with someone who’s gone for months on end, and could very well be dead in a ditch the next time you try to call. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

Simon said nothing in response, but his gaze on you seemed to soften a bit. Experiencing him outside of the battlefield was the kind of thing that would surely give you whiplash, years of military experience and living through horrors beyond comprehension would, of course, make him have a dangerous and reserved aura 24/7, but watching him let loose just a little bit and allow himself to be minimally vulnerable through his gaze and casually, softer spoken words were a new sort of fascinating. He was never the kind of person to ask things out of politeness, no, he was brazen and direct, so his genuine curiosity in you made it difficult to calm your already palpitating heartbeat.

Under the lights of a very dimly lit pub in East Liverpool, you were seeing not Ghost, not your Lieutenant, but only Simon Riley. You came to the conclusion you really liked this side of him. So, you decided to take your chances and prod a little bit more.

“What about you, Lieutenant? Where is home for you?”

“Classified.”

You chuckled, and a tiny, barely-there smirk formed on his lips before he hid it with the rim of his bourbon glass. It was worth a try.

You lost track of how long you were sitting there, in silence, just listening to the static-ish audio of the shitty television on the corner of the bar or the idle chat of other patrons, occasionally muttering something to Ghost, but it all felt superficial. You wanted to jump him, to strip him bare, not of his clothes, but of all of him that was a façade, and lay down every word left unsaid. Maybe it was selfish, but you wanted him to let you care for him the way he cared for you. For every time he’d wordlessly patch up your wounds in a dirty alleyway, push you out of a sniper’s line of sight or bark orders for you to get to fucking safety, you wanted to help him through each nightmare (that he thought you didn’t notice it plagued his nights more often than not, leaving him restless the next day), and hold him close when the throes of carrying a whole team and an entire life of trauma on his back became too much to bear on his own. You felt like a fool, pining over a man who made no effort to hide how little he trusted people.

Soon enough, the pub grew quieter and more devoid of people, and at some point you and Ghost decided the bartender’s gaze was way too unwelcoming, as he clearly wanted to go home, so you wordlessly decided to go back to your aimless wandering. A few of your old army colleagues wouldn’t hesitate to pull off their military card to get what they wanted, whenever and however they wanted, but just the thought made your stomach turn in disgust. Your blood stained hands didn’t feel like the ones of a hero that deserved to be pampered.

“Why are you still here anyway?”

He had asked you a few days after your conversation in that dingy safehouse. You had found yourself brushing shoulders side by side together after you went out for a smoke in the base, running into him leaned against a parked truck, lost in thought. For some reason, the question made you feel ashamed to meet his eyes, even if his tone wasn’t accusatory; just curious.

“I feel like it’s too late for me. I’ve seen too much. There’s nothing else I know how to do at this point.”

Your tongue felt like lead inside your mouth. A part of you longed for an early retirement so you could live a quiet and monotonous life somewhere in the countryside, but you also knew most people with your lifestyle wouldn’t live enough to see retirement. Alas, deep inside you felt like it was impossible to not grow restless if you were to live a life free of the adrenaline you embraced as a vice. It felt hypocritical, suffering over the consequences of your own choices, but God knows you’d leave in a heartbeat if you weren’t already too far deep in. You’d suppose becoming a soldier had its good sides, though, even if just the idea of finding any comfort in your work made you uneasy. Surely you’d never have met the 141 otherwise and, consequently, made them your little dysfunctional found family. You’d hold onto that for the sake of your sanity. On your side, Ghost hummed, acknowledging what you were saying, and maybe you’d find he could relate to your feelings, somehow.

“It’s difficult to let go of a whole life of violence.”

His words had stuck with you, as wise and cryptic in a way only he managed to pull it off.

Outside, the drizzle seemed to have gotten a bit stronger in the last few hours, but neither of you cared enough for it. It didn’t feel that bad compared to the storms that rained over you in open fields or the mud you’d have to crawl across to stay hidden sometimes. You’d feel pretty stupid if this little rain actually got you sick, but that was a worry for future you. It didn’t even cross your mind to ask Ghost if you were heading somewhere, you just followed him blindly, analyzing him in silence and noticing he looked good in civilian clothes, the plain black hoodie fitting him perfectly. From the little distance you walked besides him, you could notice he was smelling good, a mixture of cologne and his natural musk which you were already very well acquainted with.

The street was clearly in a commercial district, and it felt even quieter than the one you were before. All the stores were closed with only a faint night light illuminating a few of their interiors, and you appreciated the faint smell of the sea by being somewhat close to the port.

You enjoyed the stillness of it all and the lack of people to make you jealous with their normal, happy lives.

Subconsciously, you barely noticed that you ended up scooting even closer to Simon as you walked, happy he didn’t seem to mind it.

Suddenly, he stopped mid-walk, and you became hyper aware of how much you were staring at him. God, you felt like a creep. After a second, he spoke in a murmur, not turning to look at you.

“Since when?”

You waited for him to elaborate what he meant, but it never came. Chuckling nervously, you peered up at him, confused.

“Since when…what?”

Finally, he turned to look at you with something indescribable in his eyes. It made you feel small, like he wanted to devour you, but it also made your heart leap in your chest, like he wanted to devour you.

“I know how you feel about me. You’re not very subtle about it. I’m not bloody stupid, kid. ”

Your head snapped towards him at his harsh words, even if his low voice and gentle-ish tone didn’t quite reflect the true nature of them, but any witty reply you had died down once you saw how his eyes were downturned in unease.

Oh.

You realized what he’s talking about, and turns out your late night musings were right - at least part of them. Simon leaves no opening to figure out by his body language what the bringing up of the topic means to him. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he will reject you and reprimand you for being unprofessional (as if loving him was more unprofessional than fucking your superior). Maybe-

“I’m…not sure.” You admit, refusing to meet his steely gaze. “It just…happened. Stopped being just casual sex a while ago.”

His silence makes seconds feel like hours. You try to control your labored breathing by listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain that’s back to drizzling on the store awning you’re both under. A part of you wishes the rain would suddenly get so strong it would break the awning and drag you away with the current from Simon’s soul-crushing silence. You feel stupid, foolish.

Fool, fool, fool-

He closes the distance between your bodies. Having never paid much detailed attention to the rare occasions when gloves didn’t adorn his hands outside the bedroom, you suddenly notice how much his palms feel a pleasant kind of rough and calloused when they don’t carry the intent of ravaging you, so big against your face as he gently cradles you. Of course, he knows you’re a soldier, not some porcelain doll to be easily broken, but God knows how much seeing him hold you as if you’re something precious makes your once-labored breathing come to a halt altogether. His eyes are soft, half lidded, and uncertain on you as he murmurs out sorrowfully.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, kid.”

For the first time ever, you feel like you’re the only person who’s ever seen Simon Riley look scared. You don’t know if he’s afraid of hurting you or the other way around.

Instinctively, your own hands gingerly go to the top of his in a light caress, and you fight against the urge to close your eyes and breathe in his musk as you lean into his touch. This up close he also smells faintly like cigarettes.

“Maybe not.” You admit, and you hope he can notice the way you look up at him with hearts in your eyes and willing to wear your own on your sleeve. “But I want to find out.”

He doesn’t really smile - he almost never does - , but his gaze holds a promise in it, a vow. One of his hands leaves your face to hike up his mask, and you expect it to stop just below his nose, as always, but he keeps going until it rests on top of his dirty blonde hair, making your breath hitch once again. You were wrong about him; you didn’t need to strip him bare, no, you realize he’d do it for you if you asked. A long time ago you decided you didn’t give a shit about how his face looked, but you made sure to take a good look at him, finally committing his features to memory, acknowledging his trust in you and also how much you really were a fool by underestimating it before. The stubble on his jaw feels coarse under your fingertips, and you indulge yourself by lightly tracing the scar on his lip the way you wanted to do with all of his marks ever since that morning. It occurs to you that even when the hookups turned into something more, you had never seen him so vulnerable, and it sets an equally giddy and unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, as if you were witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, but you weren’t about to question his resolve. Taking the reins - as he always does - his lips are on yours in an instant, and you swear you’d die happily at that instant.

The way he kisses you is something new, slow and passionate, as if trying to savor every piece of you at his pace and communicate what he doesn’t know how to put into words. You’d kissed before, sure, but it was always animalistic, an aggressive dance filled with wanton growls deep from his throat and your involuntary whines whenever he would bite your lip - a gazelle in the jaws of a lion - and in the occasions sex was tender, it was most likely because something bad had happened, and you’d hide your face in the crook of his neck so he could pretend not to notice how much you needed it - him - to cope and how much his touch kept you grounded; you’d like to imagine yours made him feel something of the sorts as well. Simon Riley was not the type of man to engage in raw emotional affairs without getting something out of it. And yet, as you close your eyes to hug his neck, bringing his large body impossibly closer to yours, you feel like he is finally giving all of him to you in the rawest way he knows how to. Of course, you’re not teenagers, and with the way of life you lead, emotional attachment can make any soldier feel dreadful for their future, so it would be foolish to expect a full on love confession in the rain, but, if anything, you suddenly realize you can feel Simon’s heart beating fast on his chest through your own, and that is enough for you, making you smile against him.

When you separate, there’s still minimal distance between you two, the air around you feels lighter, and you surround yourself in affection by the way Simon looks down at you adoringly. Any outsider would be quick to say he has the look of a stone cold predator, and he is as unreadable as they come, but once you start dealing with the true man under the mask - even if only figuratively -, you realize that his eyes are truly the window of his soul, and any words left unspoken you’d die to uncover are visible in his dark hues the moment he looks at you. A few blocks away, a clock tower strikes midnight and you spare the building a look from where you can see it.

“Merry Christmas, Simon.” You murmur, knowing full well religious holidays are neither yours or Simon’s thing. The irony of it all is lost when he huffs out a small noise of amusement and distances himself just enough to extend his arm for you to take, his gaze never leaving your form. You could point out he hasn’t really lowered his mask yet but you enjoy the view too much so you might as well indulge in it while he doesn’t remember to do so. His bicep is thick and strong under your fingers as you grip him gently, and he nods forward beyond the awning.

“It stopped raining. Let's get going.”

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icallhimjoey · 4 months

Note

so apparently there are some rumers, that joe is dating a girl called kate and that they revealed their realiationship at bfi. I mean I dont care who he is dating, as long he is happy, so am I. But where do those rumers come from?? There is literly no information, just those people saying that they are dating and sending hate mails to kate…

okay, FINE, im going to get into this, tell you all i know, and then that can be it for the questions i keep getting about this, because it really is neverending (and insanely annoying to me) so, lets go

kate is a writer/director who works with/for 'film hub north/bfi network/rianne pictures' as stated in her instagram bio, lives up north near newcastle and is gorgeous

at the london film festival this year she has gone to see hoard

she posted a pic to her insta stories of the Q&A after hoard from her seat in the cinema (like so many other fans did too) and said some nice words about luna and she tagged some people

one of the producers reposted the story into their stories which i think is how people "found" her

kate had a pic taken on one of the bfi red carpets (by herself) AND had a pic taken in a large group, one of who was lorn (lauren quinn - no relation - this is not about her, but people draw conclusions about this too)

NOW

just a couple weeks before, joe made a playlist on his spotify account called "Kate's" with two songs in

so, some girls went 1 + 1 = this is a relationship

kate has red hair and is literally stunning, so they're saying "she's his type, must be true"

kate got messages/insta comments asking about it, she posted a story to her insta that said something along the lines of "this is silly please stop this is my professional account i should be able to post what i want without being harassed i have body dysmorphia pls leave me alone"

went private and then public again shortly after

when i say that there's been 0 actual proof that these two people even know each other, i truly mean that there's 0 proof that these two people know each other at all

if we're just looking at the facts: she's a fan

the end

every time people have been trying to link them up, joe's been pictured/filmed to be by himself

couple weeks ago, kate posted stories to her instagram of her being in malta and, presumably, people started asking questions, because she very quickly went private and deleted the insta stories

she went public again shortly after, and the day that joe was pictured doing a lil food shop in his local tesco's, kate posted a mirror selfie in a lift and behind her, there's an arm in the frame - now, imo, not even close enough to touch her bum, but people went BLACK COAT, THAT'S JOE AND HE'S TOUCHING HER ASS

big sigh

what kate is NOT doing is coming out and denying anything, which is a choice

she doesnt have to do shit, she doesnt owe anyone anything, but to hit the snooze button and ignore everything is definitely a choice

in turn, some girls are taking the no-denying as proof of it being real and have made twitter and tiktok accounts and KEEP FUCKING SENDING ME QUESTIONS THAT KEEP PUSHING THIS TO BE THE TRUTH (they are not nice about it either)

i have yet to see any truth to any of these rumours - to me it feels like a lot of stories being pulled from thin air that some girls find extremely entertaining

i do not

i have no interest in this

don't get me wrong - joe'd be lucky to date someone as pretty as kate, she seems lovely, but i am going to need some actual proof before i just go with whatever some people are trying to sell to me as the truth

please do not reach out to me on anon about this

if you have anything you want to discuss with me, please find me in the tumblr chat messages

thanks <3

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asterin-carstairs · 2 years

Text

There is no place for political imprisonment in a functioning, democratic society.

Evin Prison in Tehran, Iran is no ordinary prison. Since 1972 (for 50 years! Half a century!!) it has been the primary site for the housing of Iran's political prisoners. Due to the number of intellectuals, students and other elite members of the intelligentsia housed there, Evin Prison is commonly referred to as “Evin University”. Many (my own mother included) used to say “Evin prison could declare independence” (because they have everyone. From diplomats to doctors. From journalists to students.). Many of the prisoners there are more fit to run the country than the current leaders.

Evin‬⁩ is no ordinary prison. Many of Iran’s best & brightest have spent long stretches confined there, where brave women & men are denied their basic rights for speaking truth to power. The regime is responsible for what happens to those inside right now.

Political prisoners aren’t the only innocent people there. There are innocent journalists, poets, filmmakers, artists, activists and LGBTQ+ people unjustly held in that prison. All because they want basic rights. All because they want to be treated with basic human decency.

As of 3:00 pm (EST) October 15, the Evin Prison has been on fire. Many who live nearby say they heard gunshots days prior to the fire. At least 4 explosions have happened so far and there will be more.

Two days ago Mehdi Hashemi Rafsanjani, son of the former president and an Iranian elite “businessman” Aghazadeh, was released from the prison on a break and was to go back after two days. He was told not to. After two days of him not being there, the prison burns down with explosions and gunshots that can be heard from streets away. Coincidence? I think not. Even though they “arrested” one of their people, he wasn’t there when Evin caught fire. The elite will never get hurt because they ARE the regime.

Tehran is taken over by the scent of blood and smoke.

The Islamic Republic is responsible for all those lives unjustly behind bars. Tonight they commit arson in the name of arson. They will attempt to say it didn’t happen or that it was an accident. A gas leak or some other lie. They did this just like they did everything else. Here’s just to name a few:

Cinema Rex Fire (1978), Sanchi Ship (2018), Metropol Building Collapse (2022), Flight 752 (2020), Massacre of 1988, Plasco Building fire (2017), Violent raids on the dormitory of Tehran University (1999), the continues hate crimes (rapes, conversion and killings) or non-muslims, not to mention the amount of people who’ve died due to poverty and/or in protests.

Just days ago, government forces attacked an intermediate school in Ardabil, Iran. A pre-school aged girl was beaten to death (at her school, in front of her peers) for engaging in protests.

For the Islamic Republic Regime of Iran, it has always been geniuses vs. guns.

There is nothing we can do but to spread the word. To spread awareness. To make Iran-related hashtags trending again.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would use my Tumblr account, which is meant to be for me to interact with people in different fandoms all in good fun, to talk about something like this. I feel so terrified and helpless. Pease repost!

@khaleesiofalicante @carelessflower @magnus-the-maqnificent @dustandducks @nancylou444 @machiavelien @paranoidbean @anyushk4 @heavenhatesme @pineapplecrispy

#update on iran #iran revolution #iranian protests #mahsa amini #zhina amini #evin prison #stop murdering innocent civilians #repost #no to war #nika shakarami #we need your help #be our voice #lgbtq rights #be the voice of iranians #jina amini

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lazywitchling · 1 month

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Alright, here we go. My review for The Dabbler's Guide to Witchcraft by Fire Lyte

Final rating: ??/10 - it broke my numbers system.

TL;DR - I like the book. I'm angry at the author. It's great for new practitioners. If you're going to get it, please get it from the Spiral House Shop, get Alex Wrekk's two witchcraft zines to go with it, and go look at/reblog/contribute to the original Dabbler's Week project.

(Also I think this is the longest review I've written yet. I'm sorry.)

This book is very good. I'm mad about that. The author is an excellent writer. I'm mad about that. I want to dislike this book but I can't, and I'm mad about that.

So let's get into the breakdown of why.

First up, a housekeeping thing: "Fire Lyte" is a pen name that I don't believe the author uses anymore, so I will be referring to him as Don Martin, the name he is using on his current projects. I know he's on TikTok, formerly of Inciting a Riot podcast, now of Head on Fire podcast.

Second, some links relevant to the review-which-is-actually-just-a-rant:

The breakdown of things I found that were taken uncredited from Tumblr

I COULD be making this up and reading it in bad faith, but this bit about 'heteronormative marriage' has my alarm bells ringing

Why I hate the title of this book

The original Dabbler's Week project links

Anyway.

I picked this book up specifically because of the title. It's been 3 years since it was published, so it took me a while, but I remember looking at that title when it was first out and thinking "Hey... the timing of this... did this person just wholesale lift the 'Dabbler' idea from Tumblr?"

The answer is: Yes, probably!

(He also summarized the Malachite Dick post from February 2020, but he actually credited Tumblr along with relevant usernames, so that's good and also made me laugh.)

But... yeah. The fact that he's crediting Tumblr from something that specifically happened in February 2020, when the original Dabbler's Week was from late January 2020 and seems to have inspired his whole book? Don, would it have killed you to mention ANYTHING about that project and the people involved?

He's very big on talking about following trails of information, listening to podcasts, listening to the podcasts of people talked about on those podcasts, reading books talked about on those podcast, and so on. But if he doesn't start off by saying "Dabbler's Week was a project issued by asksecularwitch on Tumblr", then how is anyone supposed to follow THAT chain of information, hmm? If his whole advice on finding good witchcraft resources is to follow the chain of people who are sharing information from each other, but he makes no mention of where he got the whole idea for his book, then what?

Side rant: I'm real tired of how Tumblr information is simultaneously treated as too shitty to ever bother reading or mentioning, but good enough to screenshot, repost on other sites, recite word-for-word on tiktok, and apparently write a book about.

ANYWAY. I'm angry about it. I'm gonna be angry about it. Here, please look at these links to the shenanigans that began the original Dabbler's Week, because Don certainly won't tell you about this part.

Anyway.

Some bad things:

I mean, the plagiarism. I keep hesitating to use the word 'plagiarism', because to me that seems like wholesale lifting entire works and slapping your name on them, when all Don did was fail to credit a few Tumblr users he quoted. But then again, if I did that on a research paper in college, it would be called plagiarism, so.

This book is in fact not a great guide for 'dabblers'. The point of Dabbler's Week was that if someone didn't know if they wanted to commit to witchcraft but wanted to fuck around with casting some spells for a week to try it out, there were week-long guides on things someone could do to try that. This book is not for fucking around with magic, it's for people who are already sure that they want to make this a thing in their lives. It handles some heavier topics (e.g. vetting mentors and not getting sucked into a cult) that are very very important for someone who is BEGINNING, but may be too much for someone who just says one day "lol I think I'll cast a spell for fun". A far more accurate title would have been "The Beginner's Guide to Witchcraft", but then he'd lose that punchy and marketable and googleable term 'dabbler'. (Yes, I'm going to be petty about this.)

"Wow Jes, it sounds like you really hated this book."

NO I DIDN'T, AND I'M SO MAD ABOUT THAT!

Some good things:

The author has a writing style that I enjoyed very much. This is a personal preference, but I like when books are either written so that the author is fully invisible (Bree Landwalker's books do this wonderfully), or the author is fully visible, like they're sitting at the table having a conversation with you (Kelly-Ann Maddox's 'Rebel Witch' comes to mind, as does Alex Wrekk's 'Brainscan 33: DIY Witchery'). Don Martin is the table conversation kind. That makes this book very easy to read, while also getting information across in an easily-understood sort of way.

This book fills a very necessary gap in modern witching books. It talks about the online community of witches, and a lot of the pitfalls that have come along with the bonuses of having so much witchcraft available at our social-media connected fingertips.

He gets very in depth with things like cultural appropriation. That's something that you can find in a lot of modern witch books, but Don actually spends the time breaking the concept down and explaining WHY it's harmful, HOW it affects people, and quotes people from the affected minority groups. I have seen the appropriation topic come up in a lot of the witch books I've read, but Don is the one who has covered the topic the best, imo.

He spends time on topics that I myself would have been dismissive of. The example that comes to mind is the chapter 'Can I Make Sh*t Up?' My knee jerk reaction was "Yes, you can make your own spells, you don't need to get someone else's permission. Next question." But Don goes through the full breakdown of yes you can make up your own spells, yes you can make your own correspondences, but no that doesn't mean you can just throw a water soluble crystal in your water bottle because you think it's good for cleansing.

Actually on that topic, he covers a lot of the why not just the what. It's not just 'appropriation is bad', it's 'and here's why'. It's not just 'research your herbs', it's 'here's some examples of things that can and have gone wrong.'

SPELL CANVASES! There are 11 'spell canvases' in this book, and they're pretty much all just kids/teens science experiments (e.g. dissolving an egg shell in vinegar, lighting a tea bag on fire so it flies, and using food dye to color a white flower). He does not give intentions for these spells, but gives a spell technique and then some examples of how you could apply your own purpose/intention to it as needed. It's actually pretty smart, and now I wish there was more stuff like this.

He actually explains what UPG means. Man, 'UPG' is one of those things that I keep seeing as a 'I don't know what that means and I'm to afraid to ask' blog post. When someone pops into the witchy social media circles, we can throw the term 'UPG' around as if everyone knows what it means, and forget to actually explain that it's Unverified Personal Gnosis and what that means. Don's got us covered. Good on you, Don.

The one throwaway line about why you don't have to buy fancy witch things. Tucked away in chapter 12 is this almost nothing-sentence mentioning why you shouldn't be "going broke hoping to buy your way into 'effective' magic" (pg. 161). I have seen, reblogged, probably written posts about 'No you don't need the fancy tools! You can just use whatever! But you CAN buy them if you want, you just don't NEED them.' And we've all seen those around, right? But damn, if Don didn't just get to the heart of it. You can't buy your way into skill. YES, Don, THAT!! THANK YOU.

Alright. I'm running out of words. This isn't a review, it's a rant. Holy shit. Let me shut up with a TL;DR

Almost without doubt, Don liked Tumblr's idea enough to write a book about it, but failed to give credit. But he's an excellent writer and covers a lot of topics that are not often written about in printed books, and to get those blogosphere-ideas onto bookshelves is invaluable. This is a good book for beginners starting out in witchcraft, but not for dabblers who just want to screw around with some spells. Do the pros outweigh the cons? Is it ethical to buy a book when the author gets royalties but the bloggers he got the idea from do not? I don't know. I can't tell you that. You'll have to weigh all this against your own moral compass and decide for yourself. My recommendation is that if you're going to buy it, please buy it from the Spiral House Shop, because if Don Martin's going to get paid for this book, Alex Wrekk should too. Buy Alex's zines. Reblog Sec's posts. Links are up at the top.

#jes vs witch books #drama in your llama #navigation: reviews

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ryuryuryuyurboat · 7 months

Note

RIRI. i SPECIFICALLY said no lyney angst. ever. for as long as your tumblr shall live. the little pookie wookie cutie sunshine munchkin muffin bear is in love with us returns our love do you understand😡 for legal reasons and so that i dont get judged hard by the people behind me on the train this is purely a joke. but you know WHAT ISNT A JOKE RIRI IT'S MY HEART SHATTERING. absolutely unbelievable. i demand compensation. fluff where lyney accepts confession. and an apology letter. 500 words. (hugs u)

i hate that i know EXACTLY who you are. what's with the hug did you burn the kitchen down again– anyway, here's my apology. love u!

last kiss

synopsis: if you go, can i go with you? if you leave me, can i leave me too?

genre: angst. no comfort.

characters: wanderer x gn! reader

warnings: established relationship, reader referred to in 2nd pov, written from wanderer's pov, mentions of wanderer’s birth name, reader gets amnesia, wanderer a little ooc maybe

a/n: i spent so long writing and re-writing this i will actually cry if people don't like this (no pressure though) mwah :3 likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!! it helps a lot :>

masterlist

he remembers.

kunikuzushi remembers your first meeting, clear as day. the wonder in your irises as you reach out for his hand, the way you cupped his porcelain face in your hands, running your hands through his indigo locks. he remembers when he accidentally let his feelings slip, freezing up in fear of your reaction– he remembers your light laugh, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his forehead.

the balladeer remembers your disappointed look when he comes home to tell you he’s made his decision. you turn and go straight into the kitchen without another word, and the weight of silence has never been so heavy. and yet, as you set the table for dinner, you ask when the ship for snezhnaya will leave. he remembers all too well how you stopped right before boarding the ship, turned back to glare at him, and say your decision to follow him still didn’t mean you agreed with his. and when he fell from the shouki no kami after failing to replace lesser lord kusanali as sumeru’s god, he remembers you rushing forward to try and catch him in your arms to soften the impact.

the wanderer remembers those 2am walks to puspa café, pinkie linked with yours, because you craved some hot food and didn’t want it home-cooked. he remembers those cold nights with you– the rain’s symphony muffled in the background as you move in closer to embrace him tighter under the shared covers, him reluctantly humming you back to sleep.

he remembers that time you got abducted by fatui agents– any mere mortal would have gone insane from their cruel treatment, and yet, you became the one driving your abductors nuts. he found you with your back facing him as you wield your sword, your chest heaving as you take deep breaths. he remembers how he couldn’t help but let a tear slip as he runs forward to hold you tight, murmuring apologies into the crook of your neck, all the while wondering where you got that much strength from. and he remembers the way you turned around to embrace him, a rare fire in your eyes as you told him those words he wishes he could have imprinted on his skin: “i’m your heart after all, aren’t i? i can’t just go dying on you when you’re not ready to go!”

the wanderer still remembers that promise you once made at 1:58am in the morning, that sweet moment you both shared, the moon being the only witness to your soft declaration of love.

the wanderer remembers that fateful day he found you unconscious in a withering zone, your body bruised and battered— presumably from fighting enemies. he’s grumbling all the way home with you in his arms about how clumsy and bothersome you are, even as he gently cleans your face from the dirt. he refuses to leave your bedside for a single second in fear that you might awake all alone. but he was the one left all alone.

he hates it.

he hates that he remembers.

and you don’t.

he hates seeing that blank stare you give him as you tell him you have no idea what he’s harping on about. he hates that even after months and months of trying, even with lesser lord kusanali’s advice, you still remember nothing. he especially hates that apologetic smile you gave him as you tell him you don’t love him back. because you did. once. and you made a promise never to leave his side as long as your heart beat. once.

but you don’t remember, do you?

your explanation that you don’t want to continue leading him on because you just don’t feel the same completely shatters him. he has no right to force you to stay, either. not after everything you did for him. but he’s always been selfish, hasn’t he? so he asks you. he asks you for one last kiss so he can keep you in his fond memories. your eyes soften as you mutter an “oh, kuni.” (he insisted you stick to the name that always hung on your lips.) he tries not to show any emotion as you pull him into a tight hug, pressing your lips to his forehead. he tries to smile as he waves you goodbye, because he wants your last memory of him to be a good one. and he tries damn hard not to cry as he slides down the now-closed door of the house you once shared, head in his hands, knowing you’ve forgotten everything as easily as you breathed.

you’re his fourth betrayal. he hates that he has to remember that for the rest of his sorry, miserable life.

taglist: @i23kazu, @kazumist @oveloof (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin angst #scaramouche #scara angst #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst #kunikuzushi #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #balladeer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #༄the vessel’s voyages #scrolls of yore✒️ᝰ

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tonberry-yoda · 10 months

Text

Out Like a Light - Cole Cassidy

notes - my tumblr bbygurl bff gave me a cute little brainrot, so i had to write this tee hee. Honestly, thank you for sharing his beautiful face with me dude because i forgot how much i loved this cowboy. Would kiss, 10/10 word count - 585 summary - you finally get a break from your job, but miss your boyfriend. when he comes home, you don't have much of a break, but get to finally relax with him like you wanted <3 tags - @cerezzzita <3333

You hummed to yourself while you made dinner, wearing nothing but a tank top and some low sweatpants. Today was a good day, so you were smiling like an idiot while the frying pan was sizzling.

Not often did you get breaks from Overwatch, but when you did, it was always a good time where you could just stay home and do whatever you wanted.

It just kind of sucked that you couldn't spend that time with your boyfriend, who didn't get to take the day off.

But then again, it was always nice to get a break from that cowboy sometimes.

Speaking of, you heard the door click open and the spur of his boots clink on the ground.

"Cole, baby, is that you?" you asked over the sizzling food.

"Yup. Just me, pumpkin, don't worry." He sounded tired.

"How was your day?"

You saw him turn the corner and gasped as he was covered in scratches and bruises that were covered up to their best ability.

"Oh my god, what happened?" you asked, rushing over to him.

"Oh this? It's nuthin'. Don't worry about me, m'kay?" He pressed a kiss to your forehead and took a seat at the dining room table.

"Dammit, Cassidy, I hate when you come home looking like this."

"You've come home worse." he chuckled.

"Yeah, but I can deal with it. I don't like you all hurt."

"I'm fine." he reassured you, watching you cook. "It's just little stuff, that's all. Hurts like hell, but I'm fine."

You sighed. "You better be."

"You know what would help though?"

You cocked an eyebrow when you saw him smirk. "What?"

"Warm dinner. A nice shower. And some cuddle time with my honey."

You smiled. "That does sound nice."

He stood up and walked over to you semi-weakly, but managed to wrap his arms around you, rubbing his thumbs lightly over your waist.

"Smells good." he said.

"Thanks."

"Mhm." He kissed your head and leaned his chin there, just watching you cook. "How was your day off?"

"Relaxing. But I missed you."

"Course you did."

"Shut up." you giggled, plating both of your food.

As you two ate, he told you all about his day fighting dozens of different people and winning, but leaving with pain like no other. How Torb had to swoop in and help, trying to carry Cassidy's fat ass.

You laughed with him and he couldn't help but blush at you.

"All right. Wanna take that shower?" You took both of the empty plates and put them in the sink for later.

"Yes please." he sighed.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw and led him to the shower.

You helped wash all the dry blood off of his body and even washed his hair, which he nearly melted due to the way your nails dug into his scalp.

After the shower though, he wanted to spoil you and carried you to your bed, pressing kisses all over your face.

"St-Stop!" you giggled. "Be careful, Cole, you're still recovering."

"Eh, I'm fine." He kissed you on the lips and looked at you with loving eyes. "If anything, this is making me feel better."

You cupped his face and gave him a kiss on the nose before scratching his beard. "God, you're so pretty." you told him.

He laid next to you and held you in his arms. "You're so pretty."

"Good job today." You kissed him one last time, but he was already out like a light.

~~~~~

overwatch masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

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racinggirl · 2 years

Text

comfort || daniel ricciardo 3

type: one shot pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader word count: 1.2k summary: a fluffy daniel, taking care of you when it's that time of the month. requested: yes! “Hi! Can I request a Danny fic where he takes care of the reader who is on her period? Just something cute and fluffy 🥰” (by anon) Requests are OPEN!!! warnings: period cramps, LDR, just fluffy dan boyfriend notes: First of all, credits to GIF owner, love it. I am actually on that time of the month myself, so this came at the PERFECT time. Just wished I was y/n at this moment ;) also, I know it isn't long, but I hope you'll like it <3 (repost again, since Tumblr really doesn't like me)

my masterlist

Chocolate. Water. A good book. A happy movie. More chocolate. The only thing missing from your list was your boyfriend, your cuddly bear, your support and happy place.

Being on your period was something you hated, especially whenever you and Daniel weren’t together, mostly due to the fact he was out for races, which was exactly the case this weekend. It was Sunday, which meant race day for him and the 19 other drivers. Race day, a day you would usually attend, but this time, due to some assignments and work related things, wasn’t something that was scheduled for you.

You were on the big couch in your living room, a bar of chocolate on your left, a bottle of water on your right. The book you just finished was on the table in front of you, a movie you were watching on the big tv a few metres in front of you. Cramps were overwhelming you, making you curl up in the blankets, a hot tea in your hand as you sipped it, hoping it would calm your cramps down.

Normally, Daniel would place his warm hands on your lower stomach as you would lean against his chest, the both of you either on the couch, in bed, or in a warm bath he’d make for you, filled with lavender, candles and a nice music in the background. However, he wasn’t here right now, meaning you were all on your own in your shared house.

‘’y/n?’’ You had answered a phone call you received from Daniel, a smile on your lips as you heard his accent, the way he pronounced your name felt like the best thing ever, it was like music to your ears.

‘’Danny, hey.’’ You whispered, your eyes closed as you imagined him being here by your side. You loved him, so much, he came into your life when you needed him the most, and he never left.

‘’What’s up baby, you sound, off.’’ He frowned, making you sigh quietly. You didn’t want to tell him, simply because you didn’t want to worry him. He was about to get into his car, getting ready for the race, one of his favourites.

‘’Nothing, I’m just a little tired, work and school was a lot today.’’ You tried to sound somewhat excited, not too much, but at least enough so he wouldn’t suspect a thing.

‘’Are you sure?’’ He asked, making you nod. ‘’Yeah, positive, I think that I’ll take a good nap after the race.’’ You smiled, switching the TV from the movie to the race, so you could watch.

‘’Alright, promise me you’ll sleep and give Coco a kiss for me.’’ You laughed lightly, looking down at the puppy with a smile on your lips. ‘’I will, don’t worry, she misses you too.’’ You heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone, along with some fumbling around, a door closing as well.

‘’And I miss my favourite girls too.’’ He says, making your heart beat a little faster.

‘’Goodluck, you’ve got this and no matter what…’’ You said. ‘’You’re proud of me.’’ Daniel finished your sentence, your mantra you told him every single race week, your safety procedure.

‘’I love you.’’

‘’And I love you, bye love.’’

He ended the phone call since he had to get ready for his race, and you simply patted the spot next to you on the couch, allowing Coco to jump on top, crawling closer to you to comfort you. They say dogs feel emotions, meaning right now, Coco would probably feel the sadness or discomfort you were feeling at this moment.

‘’Hey Coco.’’ You whispered, gently stroking her soft blonde hair, giving you the rest you needed. ‘’You miss him too, don’t you?’’ You mumbled, giggling as you saw a yawn coming from the golden retriever next to you. ‘’Yeah, I’m tired too.’’

You and Daniel decided to get a puppy, simply because Daniel would be away a lot this year, and you’d be at home, working from home and following a course along side your working hours, wanting to make promotions in your current job. Coco was the perfect dog, still a puppy, meaning she’d be playful, and perfect to cuddle with whenever you missed Daniel.

The race went alright. Daniel managed to get fifth place, his best result yet this season, and you decided to send him a text message.

Hey you, well done baby. I’m proud of you, I knew you’d make it up there. Coco and I have been cheering for you the entire two hours – the race had been delayed due to heavy rainfall – and right know we’re going to sleep. I’ll see you in two days, since you’re coming home then, right? Anyways, have fun at the afterparty and I can’t wait for you to be home, summer break, finally. Love you xx

You indeed fell asleep, but instead of falling asleep in bed, you fell asleep on the couch, Coco next to you, curled up to comfort you with your cramps. However, hours later, you started to wake up due to a soft hand on your cheek.

You opened your eyes, no longer feeling Coco next to you. ‘’Coco?’’ You whispered, but your heart started to beat faster the moment you saw those eyes, the ones you fell in love with years ago. That smile, the one that would light up millions of days, and that soft voice with the Australian accent.

‘’Hey baby girl.’’ Daniel whispered, a smile plastered on your lips as you wrapped your arms around him. ‘’Daniel, what, how, when?’’ You couldn’t even create a proper sentence as you were shocked. How did he get here, he was about to come back in two days, not two hours.

‘’I’m glad to see you too, baby.’’ He chuckled, pressing his lips on your for a few seconds. ‘’Why didn’t you tell me you were on your period, love?’’ He mumbled, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

‘’I didn’t want to worry you…’’ A sigh escaped his lips as he took place next to you, Coco in his basket, Daniel lifting the shirt you were wearing, which was actually his shirt, just to place his warm hands on your lower abdomen, knowing it calmed you down. ‘’How do you know it’s my period?’’ You then asked, your head resting against his chest.

‘’I keep track of it, darling, it’s in my phone.’’ He whispered, his lips placed against your temple. ‘’The bath’s ready, lets go, let me take care of you.’’ He mumbled, a soft smile on his face, the small hairs of his beard tickling your cheek. You nodded, humming as you walked up the stairs, on your way to the bathroom which was filled with candles, a movie, a nice lavender scent and a smiley Daniel.

‘’Thank you, really.’’ You whispered once you were sat in front of your boyfriend in the bathtub, your back resting against his chest, his hands on your lower stomach, lips attached to your neck and shoulders as he covered them in kisses.

‘’You know you don’t have to thank me, sweety.’’ He mumbled, creating tickles on your shoulder. ‘’I’d do anything for you, you know that.’’ His hands made his way to your shoulders, giving you one of his gentle massages before placing them back on your lower stomach.

‘’I love you.’’

‘’I love you more.’’

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ughgoaway · 11 months

Text

i hate matty healy- chapter 3

content warnings: no smut but mentions of it, smoking, swearing and a short chapter lol. word count- 1800-ish

a/n: this is a very small chapter just to fill the gap between 2 and 4!! this is a repost bc tumblr hates me so if the chapter seems familiar that's why! anyway here it is bye!!

prev chapter next chapter

Salt. Tequila. Lime. Salt. Tequila. Lime. The sharp burn of alcohol was soothing your racing mind. You usually drink just to drink, to let loose and have some fun but not tonight. Tonight you are drinking just to forget. Forget him. Forget his hands. Forget his lips on yours. Forget the way he desperately thrust into you. So you forget. Or you try to, it's pretty difficult when you can feel his eyes burning into you like the tequila burns your throat.

The red leather of the club seats sticks to your thighs, your short skirt not doing much to protect you from the hot leather. Ross starts to speak but you can't hear anything, your ears ringing; but not from the thumping bass. You desperately try to focus on your brother but all you can think and feel is him. Your thoughts are plagued by him, your heart is smashing against your chest and if you didn't know better you could swear he could hear it too. He's a ghost haunting you, his spirit infecting your head and leaving your mind reeling.

You weren't even really touching, his leg was mealy pressed against yours but it felt as if you were melting. You were simply a candle and he was the fire, he was melting you and you knew he wouldn't catch the wax you left behind. He didn't care, his heart wasn't racing. He wasn't thinking about this morning. He was just existing happily in the absence of you. Matty Healy can't have this power over you, he can't make your mind spin and your palms clammy at the feeling of his thigh against yours. You needed to get some semblance of power back so you scrambled up muttering something about going to dance, completely interrupting your brother who was still going on about something. You didn't care enough to know what.

You pushed your way through the myriad of sweaty bodies, fighting different hands that started to grab at you. It felt as if you were lost at sea. Waves of people pushing and pulling at you. You were already drowning in his murky mysterious waters, you couldn't take any more. The club began to feel too small. Colourful walls were closing in on you, pressure was building in your chest as you struggled to breathe. You were drowning. The force feels as if it could crack your ribs. Leaving the table was a mistake, it was your life raft. Suddenly your mind became focused on only getting outside for a smoke. Swimming through the people you eventually managed to get to the door, the cool metal of the handle shocking you compared to the muggy room you were currently in.

A clang rang out as the heavy door bashed against the metal behind it, you weren't present enough to notice, just desperate to escape. Cold air rushed into your lungs. You could breathe again. The ice of the air cooling your scorching body. You held your arms over your chest, crossing them over and gripping into your shoulders hard enough to leave crescent marks. It was to protect yourself. You felt as if you were under attack. Under his attack. He was mercilessly beating his way into your mind and you couldn't stop him.

Your mind flashed back to this morning when Ross came bounding into the bus unknowingly walking in on your and Matty's fucked up tryst. Before you could even process what was happening you shot up, desperately looking for the clothes you carelessly discarded not even an hour earlier. Matty stayed frozen on the bed wide-eyed and breathing raggedly. “Matthew Healy” you angrily whispered “I swear to whatever God there is if you don't get the fuck up and start getting dressed I will kill you before Ross even has a chance. Because trust me if you stay sat there like that, he will kill you.” this seemed to bring Matty back and he scrambled up and began searching the floor.

“Boxers… boxers” Matty was rapidly whispering to himself, “Matty you weren't wearing any oh my god- can you hurry up?” For a reason unbeknownst to you Matty took this opportunity to bein teasing you “Oh yeah? I remember now sweetheart, god the look on your face when you realised was so hot. So desperate for me weren't you?” he drawled out smirking whilst slithering back into the jogging bottoms he had been wearing.

“Matty.” you said, the anger seeping through your voice making Matty stand up straight and stare into your eyes, “As far as I'm concerned nothing happened and you're delusional okay? We have never had sex, get it?” a scoff came from the curly-headed man. “Come on you're really just gonna forget all about this? I'm pretty sure from the way you were screaming my name you're going to be thinking about me for a long time. Also, you're already back to calling me Matty, can’t shake me off just yet can you love?”

Your mouth opened ready for a witty retort but a loud knock filled the small room, “y/n?? You in there? I swear if you're still asleep-” The rest of the sentence was lost on you as all you focus on was the handle beginning to jiggle. Just as you were about to rush over and grab the door a tattooed arm shot out to stop you, “I locked it when I came in don't worry” Matty whispered close enough to your neck to send shivers down your spine. Before Matty could say anything about his effect on you, you shouted out “Yup! Im awake just getting dressed be out in 5!”

“Okay, “Ross said and you heard his heavy footsteps trail away from the door, a sigh of relief left you but was quickly interrupted by his booming voice saying, “wheres Matty by the way? He's not in his bunk or the bathroom” by some grace of god you managed to say “oh yeah he said something earlier about going to do something, I don't know what I don't listen to Matthew if I can help it” a disgruntled scoff came from behind you and the man in question leaned even closer your ear, his breath tickling your neck before saying “to do something? Little does he know I was-” before he could finish his comment you gave him a quick hard slap to the arm. “Ow!” he remarked in annoyance, not caring about his volume. The glare you shot him had to be in the top 5 worst looks he's ever received from you, and that's saying something considering your complete and utter disdain for him. Luckily Ross had accepted your answer and had trudged to the kitchen, far enough away not to hear Matty's comment.

“Great going now how am I meant to get out? If I've gone out how am I on the bus? You really need to be better with your post-scandalous sex excuses babe” Smirking you began to respond, “One; definitely not your babe please never call me that ever again. Two:-” you pointed at the small window in the back left corner of the room. “No.” Matty said looking at you as if you had sprouted a second head, “yup!” you perkily responded. That's how at 9 am you had Matthew Healy wriggling through a tiny window off of his own tour bus, an achievement you wouldn't forget any time soon. Eventually, you heard him enter the bus, make some excuses and you came out into the kitchen and began talking with everyone.

And that was it, you hadn't spoken more than 3 words to him since this morning, avoiding him like the plague and refusing to let him see how it has affected you. Because you don't even know how it's affected you. The feeling in your chest was not one you were familiar with. It was longing but not how it usually is. Longing wrapped in shame and guilt, leaving a dirty feeling inside your heart. The weight of it all pulls you down leaving you breathless and confused. He couldn't know the way your mind was spinning so you stayed away. Until now.

Before he spoke you knew it was him, you back to the door but his presence always unlocked something in your mind, something you had always thought of as hatred but maybe it was something different. You couldn't entertain the idea it was anything else so you doubled down internally. You hated him. Just forget.

Wordlessly he came up next to you, pulling a crumpled cigarette packet out of his jeans, stuffy and full of holes they looked as if he had been dragged through a bush backwards but god he looked good. That infuriated you, Matty really looks good to you. But he doesn't really, does he? No. No, he can't, it must be a post-sex connection thing. That must be it. He placed two cigarettes between his lips and lit them, handing one to you. You carefully took it trying to avoid any contact between the two of you not willing to feel the electric shock you know would come from touching him again.

Smoke pooled above your head and you turned to look at him. His head was thrown back, his neck on show. The innocent act of smoking somehow felt filthy. Seeing his fingers come up to his lips, the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked in the smoke. The light of it illuminated his soft features. His nose sloped down perfectly accentuating his plump lips. Rings covered his calloused fingers, collected over the years in various countries and markets- each one had a story. Filthy thoughts began to fill your mind but you shook them away and took a drag from your own cigarette, it had begun to fizzle away leaving your fingers almost burnt. You were too distracted to notice, leaving only a few puffs left for you desperately take.

His eyes met yours, dark brown almost black. Cold and empty eyes were what you were usually met with when you stared at Matty, but they were swimming with something new. You weren't simply looking at Matty, you were looking into him. Yet he was still indecipherable, just as you were to him. Wordlessly you had a conversation. Looks were exchanged that said “We both know what happened can't happen again. So it won't. I hate you and you hate me. Simple.” you knew what you were saying on the surface, but you also knew underneath that he was saying “it will happen again won't it?” a gentle nod from you is all it takes before Matty stamps out the remains of his cigarette with his heavy black boot and calmly walks back inside. Leaving you standing in the cold night, for once you were unsure where you stood with him. And that thought exhilarated you.

(note- this is a repost, tumblr deleted my old account so this is a new one! I'll add this note on each reposted chapter)

#matty healy fanfiction #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #matty healy smut #i hate matty healy series #sorry this is so short writing is difficult

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ervona · 18 days

Text

20 questions for writers! (fanfic themed)

thank you @wispstalk :) I will tag... @waterdhaviancheesecake @hungerofhadarr @aphoticfairy @biichama @wingedtwilight

answers and question list under the cut:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

none! I did repost some of them on squidgeworld

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

not applicable. my tesfest collection clocks in at 10.5k

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Elder Scrolls and Forgotten Realms right now...

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

again not applicable. the ones on tumblr get around the same amount of notes so I can't really rank the handful of them imo

5. Do you respond to comments?

I read and cherish all the tags I've gotten, I respond to comments if I post the work in a server of course and if you message me about it... I'm so happy to talk about writing any time, both mine and your own

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

quite a few but most are unpublished yet so I'll say "thrice-sealed" ends in a pretty pointless and unfulfilled way. most things for this family do, it's really about which moment you end up focusing on

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think I have more of these published... "sever seas" is a hit to me, really encapsulates the emotion I'm chasing when writing a happy ending, which is that it's never too late and it'll all be ok eventually

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope! I don't think anyone likes hate but I'd love more criticism as uniform positivity is kind of dull. I always love to hear what people liked about my work but I'd also love to hear what they didn't like...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

mixed impressions on this one, I've written sex scenes, but I've also been told it's not quite smut... I don't like IKEA erotica but I like sex scenes for character study so if you get anything from me it'll be it

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not that I recall, I haven't really had ideas for crossovers

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I'd be genuinely surprised

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope but feel free to!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

no but I'm up for it, and imo I'm good at collaborative work

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I don't have one, if I'm attached to a particular dynamic it's for a limited period of time that they inspire me... but I still care them

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

HEADSTONES LMAO... I have a lot of other unfinished ideas but this is one I plotted out, not even that long or complicated and then drove right off the bridge. I want to return to it when I have more inspiration and feel more assured in my Reithwin lore because it's a big old mess

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm taking from comments I've gotten because I can't self-analyze that well: the cadence of it owed in part to being esl, capturing an atmosphere, the psychological profile of characters and dialogue! personally I think I'm good at this too but there's room to improve

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

long form plotting! I couldn't write a novel, and when I write short stories I struggle to not just make it a vibes based thriller. in fanfic this manifests as characters just hanging out. pondering their life. there are many story ideas in my mind with some definite plot but putting it all together is quite a task. I'll just keep on trying to do it!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm already writing in another language, but I'd only want to try a language I'm as familiar with or a conlang where I can make it up unless I have someone to consult about the language being right

19. First fandom you wrote for?

genuinely not sure. maybe Neopets, stories about my pets, which would've been the first and only fanfic I had published in a while...

20. Favorite fic you've written?

not any of my published ones unfortunately, but fortunately I have many contenders. may you all get to read them at some point... so right now one I'm very endeared towards is the one where a young Vedam and Orvas Dren are traveling with their mother, though I've changed their timeline up so much I'm not sure if their ages work... okay from my published ones I'll say the Mavus one is dear to me :)

...

here's a list of the questions:

How many works do you have on AO3?

What's your total AO3 word count?

What fandoms do you write for?

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Do you respond to comments?

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Do you get hate on fics?

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Have you ever co-written a fic?

What's your all-time favorite ship?

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

What are your writing strengths?

What are your writing weaknesses?

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

First fandom you wrote for?

Favorite fic you've written?

#answered

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smirnoffswitchblade · 2 months

Text

♡⸝⸝ about me .ᐟ

includes: introduction, dni/byf, etc . . .

— Finally im making an introduction after putting it off for a bit out of shyness (and laziness..+ being nervous, but i need to push myself to do things sometimes.) but i thought its time you guys know a little bit more about me! ^^

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀. 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

‼️ • MDNI • ‼️

♡ ····· introduction

• Hello there!! im Sammy, but i prefer to be called Sakura if we aren’t extremely close. <3

• Im 20 years old! Im also a biracial lady, Bisexual, and my pronouns are She/Her! Please refer to me as so when talking to/about me.

• Some of my hobbies include : Cosplay, editing, drawing, photography (beginner), dancing, gaming, writing, reading, and baking!

• I like to associate myself with certain animals, specifically raccoons/deer/rag-doll cats/lambs/bats! Personally i think they fit me very well..so thats why you may see me repost those specific animals from time to time. (cause i think they’re me! ^^)

Tagged with: #irlsaku

• My few of my interests are cosplay, video games, anime, manga, flowers, greek mythology, herbology, nymphology, gloomy coquette and lolita fashion. among others too!

• i love many little men right now..but mainly ive been very lovey dovey over ren hana/fox, strade, lawrence oleander, sano kojima and vincent metzger! their just my favorites at the moment and i tend to self indulge in a bunch of selfshipping with them (persona x canon and oc x canon too!..maybe i will post my btd/tpof ocs here someday.)

♡ ····· DNI / BYF

• DNI: Minors, ageless blogs, zoos/maps, ableist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, anti-xeno/neopronouns, i dont really have a big dni but these are my mains. I block freely.

• BYF: This account is my primary blog and it’s mostly just for me posting/spamming my brainrot of 18+ medias! (also made for self indulgence and other things but i wont speak on that too much) So please please if you are under the age of 18 or do not have an age stating that you are an adult in your bio you will be blocked! This blog and content is not made for your eyes to see and you can get others and the creators in legal trouble and yourself. Please stay safe and take care of yourself, Thank you.

• If you are not a minor but cant handle the topics/media that will be posted on my blog please don’t follow me, this blog again is simply for my hyper-fixations of 18+ medias, my own enjoyment, and more. Don’t hurt/trigger yourself intentionally by looking at the things i put here, and please look out for your wellbeing because you are special! <3 Thank you!

My sfw blog is @crunchysugarr so i wont mix my other medias with this one!

• I have ADHD/PTSD/anxiety and depression, please be mindful of these things when choosing to interact with me whether its in dms or my ask box!

• You can send anything (quite literally anything..) in my asks! I don’t mind it, but ill ignore it if i don’t feel comfortable answering it or if it makes me feel some type of way. Please remember i may take time to reply to them if you ever do send anything to my inbox. (I also ask that you don’t send me irl gore/animal gore/cp/etc in my ask box.)

- I tag my posts with my own hashtags, heres a few of them so you wont be confused about what I’m specifically trying to post!

- aesthetic: #sakuaesth

- rambling: #sakubabbles

- regular blogging: #sakuposting🌸

(This could change overtime but i don’t know if they will but if they do I’ll let you all know! I hate confusing others on accident, hope this helps somewhat!)

• Im still pretty new to the Boyfriend to Death fandom and other fandoms on here too, I’m always learning something new about these pieces of media every single day! so please don’t get upset if i say anything not really lore accurate (?) i guess.

• You can always dm me or reply in my posts freely! But please ask to dm me in my ask box if you do want to talk to me in private, i usually only chat on tumblr and not discord because only people i’m closest to have my discord. But feel free to ask to dm me and we can talk here on tumblr if thats fine with you <3

• Please be patient when it comes to me replying to messages/asks. Sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming knowing i have to reply to so many people so i may take some time to get back to you all depending on whats going on with me that day, i do have a life outside of tumblr thats way different from how i appear online! But just know i have no intentions of ignoring anybody, i just wanna try and talk to new people for once.

Note: i tend to use emoticons only because i just think they’re adorable simply and i like to use them when texting! (i dont know why i feel the need to specify this so much, or anything else for that matter..but i did!)

♡ ····· other / extra things

ill try and make this as short as possible so you wont have to do too much more reading.. sorry about that!! ^_^’

• on this account the specific content i intend to post is boyfriend to death (1&2), the price of flesh, ykmet, degrees of lewdity, lovers trophy, courtin’ cowboys, this is not romance, and Saw (2004)!

• i can give out some of my other socials below so feel free to follow them if you’d like to, or don’t! i would never force anything upon you or anyone. <3

Twitter: @/crunchysugarr

Pinterest: (the same as my twitter user)

• and i think thats really pretty much everything! i hope you enjoy my company and my blog, if theres any other questions you wanna ask to know other things about me that aren’t listed here then you are free to shoot me an ask anytime! (no pressure of course <3.) Im sure we will become good friends someday! take care ♡

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kavaeroexe · 2 years

Note

hello do you write smut? asking for incubus obi wan 😩

ahaha my first time writing smut, but I know how it works soooo <3

warning: typos, bad grammar, bad plot as well, 18+ content!!!!, fem reader

his likings.

attention! please do not try to repost my works, I only post my works on Tumblr, if anyone see someone stole my works please inform me through the comments, tag me in the works, or message me!

“Okay, so you are a general there? interesting, and if you are asking about the blood for the pentagram is that it’s from a goat’s blood, I killed it myself, damn I hate that but for the blood, I must say it’s good, Whaddaya think?”

“this one human sure talks a lot huh”

“General Kenobi, are you listening?”

“Why yes, of course, I could say your blood for the pentagram is not bad, anything else you want to ask, little human?” he answered, looking at you while smiling

“I still have a lot, but maybe we could take a break” you replied, holding a cup of tea that you made before the interview session started, you sipped it for a bit and then sigh.

“You know, I was a bit surprised to see you just laying on my couch the moment I came home, plus you don’t wear absolutely anything, now you need to wear my brother’s old clothes, even though a bit tight...” you look at Obi from his head to his leg, well you must say

he’s kinda... sexy? but you let it pass, every single incubus and succubus has a well amazing body, to seduce of course.

“I can read your thought little one”

you choke on your tea, and then you hummed. shoot, you forgot they can do that, “Sorry I’ll try to be careful with my silly thought next time” you apologize, try to forget your previous stupid mind and focus on enjoying your tea

“Well, too late to erase your naughty thought little one” You look at him who’s smirking and then you hummed again

“Well, you have a good proportion of body, I mean who will not have the same thought with me?” you swing your hands and poke his chest before you try to sit again on where you sat before, but he immediately stops you by kissing your lips passionately.

“What-!? don’t touch your lips there or I’ll- mphh!!” you try to resist but there’s no use, he’s got you now, now look at you being held by him, as you try to push his face away.

“you talk too much, I suppose in this way you’ll become quiet, perfect to my liking” he spoke, holding your face, looking at you breathing harshly, gasping for air, and doesn’t dare to look at him, how cute.

“Why don’t we continue our asking session like this hm? wouldn’t it be fun?”

he runs his hand through your shirt, touching your stomach, and playfully runs his hand to your chest, smirking along the way he runs his hand. even if you don’t want to be in a position like this, he already locked you down, so you could behave instead, since there is no use for fighting right now

“May I ask some questions for you as well? it will be a pleasant moment to know more about you” while his other hand pins both of your hands to the couch, you could still move your face away from him, letting out strangled noises while trying to let go of his hands.

“Look at me, look at me, don’t be scared like that, I don’t bite~,” he says to reassure you, placing his lips right to your jaw and then moving to your neck. “But you can fuck” you shortly replied right before you let out a shocked lil moan after he kisses you on the neck.

“Oh yes, that’s what I do darling”

“Well? speak again love, tell me more about you, don’t be shy, just speak.”

he passionately continues kissing your neck, biting, and licking it, while his hand fingers your pussy

“I- I take my college after that and then i- Fuck-! fuck.. I can’t talk like this.. please...”

you squirm around as he hit you in the right spot, but it didn’t last long since the moment he kept you stay still because it looks cute for you to move around right where he touches the perfect spot, but he needs you to stay still.

“What do you mean you can’t talk? I don’t even shut that pretty lips of yours right now” he replied with a whisper voice but loud enough for you to hear, and as he spoke, he held your body even tighter from behind, not wanting you to move, just want to hear your voice.

“See? It’s not even close for me to touching your lips like this, stop sputtering nonsense darling” but when he said that, the more he touches you that makes you can’t talk like he asks you to.

“I can’t... answering if you keep touching me like this...”

he went silent for a bit, and then he hummed, “Well, not so good reason if you shy to talk, plus you‘re being so aggressive all the time, not so good attitude, princess.”

the moment he lets you go and he gets up, you immediately catch your breath and then close your trembling legs together, lean against the couch with a heavy breath, you could relax for a while, but not so long until you start to think where did he go

just to find him standing in front of you

“Obi- Obi! don’t touch there.. don’t touch the- ahh~!! fuck- fuck- Obi..”

now your feet are off the ground, your shaking hands try to reach his arms that are holding your tiny body, your tiny body that is surprisingly able to take him so well, so good, just for him.

“Obi.. too much- It’s too much.. Mnhh-!! no no no no~..”

if you’re focused enough, you’ll be able to see his cock bulging so big at your stomach, that you could feel his cock twitching every time he moved it in and out (damn I’m screaming while typing this )

“Well look at you, I know you love that, sooner or late you’ll be able to do more than this, just for me ‘kay? taking me so well like this, I’ll let that bad words coming out from your mouth pass this time”

he places a mark on your shoulder while he pounced on your hole once again before he cums a lot on you.

“Don’t waste what I gave you, don’t be like last time darling, take every single drop of it, nu-uh take it, take it~”

The moment you impressed him, he brush your messy hair and place a kiss on your forehead, and he lets you take a few breath.

"Hm.. You think i'm done with you? " The moment he said fhat, you immediately look at him in shock and exhausted face

"We are done.. Right? "

"Well if you's think like that, you're absolutely wrong darling, many things we should try until next morning understand? "

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