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empty-movement · 5 months

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Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know?

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print.

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive!

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.)

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

#revolutionary girl utena #utena #rgu #sku #empty movement #chiho saito #90s manga #digital archives #manga aesthetic #shoujo kakumei utena #utena art

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ddejavvu · 10 months

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i imagine eddie working out in his room like doing push-ups, pulls ups, AND he’s shirtless😭😭but he’s doing it secretly and reader walk into his room and he gets all flustered and embarrassed but reader thinks it’s the hottest things she’s ever seen GOD

this post is 18+, minors dni.

If you had to guess, you'd say that Eddie is a little bit insecure. Not that he should be, you like him just the way he is, but you're friends with some of Hawkins' athletes, and at times Lucas seems to have bigger arms than your boyfriend does.

It doesn't bother you, but you think it might bother him a little. He starts wearing longer sleeves instead of his worn out muscle tanks, and you miss being able to stick your greedy fingers through the gaped sleeves to grab at his stomach. He's also started dissuading you from looking under his bed, which you think is suspicious because you already know about the porn magazines under there. Whatever he's hiding must be worse, and you're a little nervous to tell the truth. You have half a mind to ask Wayne if he's noticed anything odd lately, but you don't get the chance to because he's already gone for work by the time you get to Eddie's trailer for the day.

Eddie had said he was busy with work, so you assume he's halfway across town with sixteen pizzas in the back of his van to deliver. You decide to check beneath his bed, at the risk of ruining a possible birthday surprise, and you trek towards his bedroom with worry set low in your stomach.

His door is closed; that's an even worse sign. He doesn't have anything to hide from you or Wayne, you both know about his less-than-conventional 'side job'. When you twist the knob it opens, but slams into something hard, and you hear a familiar voice hiss 'ouch!'.

You rush into the small gap that you'd made with the door, finding Eddie on his hands and knees on the carpet. He's wearing a tank and his gym shorts, showing off his slightly trembling arms as he stumbles to his feet.

"What-" He grunts, eyes blown wide in panic, cheeks colored from exhaustion, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" You counter, eyeing him up and piecing clues together, "Were you working out?"

"No!" He snaps, chest heaving with both adrenaline from being caught, and fatigue from his exercise, "I'm- I was just cleaning my room."

There's something undeniably attractive about his look right now. Frizzy hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, red cheeks, shaky limbs, and chest heaving.

"On the floor," You narrow your eyes, "Sweaty and shaking?"

"I- That's not... yes." He doubles down with a huff, "I'm trying to get gum off of my carpet. It's hard work."

"Gum," You repeat, and he nods stiffly, "Oh, shut up."

He rears his head backwards in slight shock at your tone, but you don't give him the chance to process it before you're lunging for him. You feel like jumping him, and maybe that's what you're doing as you push him back towards his bed, your mouth firmly over his own. He lets out a muffled cry into the kiss as he falls backwards, bouncing on the mattress while you kick a foot beneath the bed.

The arch of your foot hits weights, and everything makes sense.

"Fuck," You hiss, crawling over top of him on the bed. He's looking half bewildered and half aroused, already chubbing up in his workout gear, "You've been working out?"

"Yeah," He finally admits, voice and breath shaky together, "I- I just thought that it might be nice to get a little bigger. Like- my arms, my- my muscles."

He seems mortified admitting it, but your thumb is already slipping beneath the hem of his tank top, brushing along his bare stomach. He shivers at the contact, and you dip down to kiss him again.

"That's hot," You decide, both thumbs now stroking at his waistline. His hips stutter, jerking up into your grip when you hit a particularly sensitive spot, and his breath hitches into the kiss that you press to his lips.

"Really?" He asks, lips already spit-slicked.

You nod, kissing his jaw, "Totally. Can I watch?"

He laughs, a sharp, breathy sound, "Babe- mm, fuck," You nip lightly at his neck, kissing the mark after, "You can watch me work out every day if you're gonna maul me like this."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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occamstfs · 7 days

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No Need to Apply

Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam

Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.

It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.

Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.

Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.

In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air.

He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.”

Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”

Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”

It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.

He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears.

Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.

Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole.

He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right?

He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control.

Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.

The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom.

His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view.

He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.

He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.

He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.

Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent.

Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.

Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?

He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at.

Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.

If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #muscle tf #jockification #reality change #musk tf

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fillinforlater · 3 months

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Pink Sheets of the Gangbang Queen

Male Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 1759 words

Tags: post-gangbang-unclarity, a fuckton of cum, the biggest creampies you can imagine, sluttiest_woman_ever!Gaeul, riding, reverse cowgirl, mating press, cumming again, surprisingly sweet

TW: nasty, a lot of cum by different people

Credit: @friskyriskywhisky had the idea and wrote most of it, I just expanded it as far as I could. Maybe there will be more Gangbang Queen stuff, but this was basically just a double BFH lol

(A/N: Have fun with this crazy, short piece!)

“I want one more…”

Gaeul lies on her nasty bed, which is not only the size of a New York apartment room but also a lot more comfortable. The fresh evidence of sin is all over the once royal pink bedsheet befitting of a princess, a queen to be more accurate. Her comically large pillow is full of wet fingerprints, there are even hints of Gaeul bending over it because she loves it when men penetrate her from behind and fuck her into the soft thing. The headboard and the walls nearby are all smeared with her own slick and the cum from the dozen of guys who unloaded a week's worth and then some for her, on her, because of her. Who knows how much genetic coding is now dripping down those walls, or the side of her bed or along her thighs.

Either way, Gaeul knows that the pungent creampie of hers only feels this good because at least ten horny men put their spunk deep into her cunt. Be it fat cocks, long ones, small, smelly, oddly shaped—Gaeul takes them all and her insides shape to each accordingly. For the horde of cocks it’s an incredible feeling with a surprising snugness, while Gaeul yearns and shouts (as long as there is no shaft testing her gag reflex) for them to finish quickly and deep. Though a marvelous feeling, she is never satisfied. She needs one more, she doesn’t even care if it’s the tiniest rest or a gigantic, creamy load—all that matters is that he cums inside her.

Gaeul’s once-animated and sex-crazed sexual partners have either left or completely passed out on the floor next to her bed—except lucky you, the only one lying naked next to her. Lucky you, who she now eyes, admiring your features while you're half asleep. She crawls over and gently flips you onto your back, stirring you awake in the process.

In your state of extreme grogginess, you aren't able to tell at first if you're being eaten alive or attacked by a savage animal. Just when your fight or flight response springs into action, a pair of lips press against yours. They instantly calm you down like a mothers embrace after a lucid nightmare. You can't help but smile unconsciously at how gentle it feels. Gaeul’s floral-scented shampoo reassures you who's currently kissing you, her touchy, wet and tender fingers reminding you of the first time she checked out your body…

It was a rainy night in one of the many underground bars in Seoul—the type of bar that makes you raise an eyebrow at first, someone with connections has recommended it, looks suspicious; then you fell into the trap of fun conversations and nice liquor that ultimately led to a selection ceremony. This was the moment you realized why this was not a commonly visited place.

Everyone went silent at her entry. Gaeul, the well-known (at least for most people that regularly visit these exclusive bars) gangbang queen was craving men tonight, many men. She was not picky, in fact, there was only one condition you had to fulfill:

“Three days worth of cum. If you had sex or jerked off during the last three days, you’re out for tonight.”

No one dared to defy her or lie to her. She diligently checked everyone’s balls and was extremely thorough, especially with you, who she gently pushed against a bar stool, hand past your waistband. Your breath hitched, hers too when her slender fingers caressed your balls.

“Tall, horny—and at least ten days of cum.

“I’d love for you to join the after party in my pink bed.”

That’s how Gaeul found you, touched you, lured you in and turned you on, like she does at this moment…

It's been minutes now, with no signs of stopping or letting go from Gaeul, her lips still fully attached to yours just to occasionally back off and peck at it again. The last remnants of a dream that could never match this disappear. They are replaced by memories that slowly creep back and your heart drops. You remember what happened not long ago, right on these pink sheets—don’t lie to yourself, you know it happens every other night.

Those soft lips of hers were satisfying other men not too long ago, fully enveloped around shafts of different shapes and sizes. That tongue of hers glided across the cockhead of multiple partners and made sure that no spot on their balls was left out. She would fill her mouth with as much manly musk and precum as she could before her throat was getting assaulted by who knows how many cocks, endlessly coating the back of it with thick cum and forcing her to gag and cry, which everyone knows is a huge turn on for the gangbang queen.

It’s those lips that form a seal around yours and it’s that mouth you attack lazily with your tongue.

Who are you to complain though? Gaeul is the greatest kisser your lips have ever met. Your obsession with her took control of your life even though you had no chance with her. You're just a nobody when Gaeul is the well-beloved queen. The gangbang queen - for those close enough to be her little circle filled with lust and desire. Yet somehow you saw a chance and took it, even if it means taking sloppy seconds (or thirds? Fifths? Wait, how many guys are here again?).

Your mind snaps back to the present when you feel your cock poking at her entrance. Hang on, did she even—fuck! You shiver in both pleasure and disgust. You're plunged into her sloppy cunt, extremely tight, even after being abused by multiple men (some girthier than the ridiculous sex toys she has in her collection).

Gaeul’s walls hug your tip first, then slowly adjust to your size, like they have become your personal sexy toy. The pleasure really kicks in when the gangbang queen puts your hands on her hips and adds your name into the mixture of huffs and moans. Her incredibly damp cavern and how slippery her whole crotch is against your own, it displays a reality you don't want to admit: You're fucking Gaeul through the creampie of other men. Using the foreign substance as a sticky wannabe lube as you slowly ramp up your pace, you're thinking with your other head only; that’s not an uncommon occurrence with the gangbang queen around.

Sex with her has you drunk, dazed, carelessly chasing your own high. You want to be the only one to have your load inside of her cunt. Gaeul yearns for breeding, and the sperm of all the other disgusting men, still unconscious in this room is deemed not enough. At this moment you decide to fuck the creampie out of her and replace it with your own.

You're frantically thrusting in and out of her, she replicates your passion as she rides you. Heaps of old cum get forced out with the assistance of gravity but mainly due to the pump that is your cock and the endless pumping into her cunt. Gaeul switches to a reverse cowgirl position and it's only now that you notice that her ass got absolutely filled as well.

This should not be a surprise, she is the gangbang queen after all, yet you want to look away. This is exclusively other men's cum leaking out of Gaeul and onto your abs. It feels extremely wrong, fucking filthy and somewhat gross. The eagerness of the girl on your dick makes you forget that though. For a short while, you just admire her back, her small, shapely ass and the way her moans are in perfect harmony with the sound of flesh hitting flesh and cum being squeezed out.

With your whole cock still buried inside her, bottoming her out, you two clumsily get into a mating press position. Gaeul is the most flexible girl you know, her small frame easily capable of folding and bending into every position you want. This position quickly becomes your favorite, because you don’t have to see her leaking asshole anymore, but you know that she is gaping and the worthless spunk steadily leaves her anal cavity.

Every time you thrust into her, you see and feel her whole ass and thighs ripple. Shock waves across the smooth, stretched, spotless skin gets sent in all kinds of directions because you dig your hands into it. There's still a disgusting amount of cum defying gravity, defying your forceful pounding into Gaeul, but you are sure that if you just keep on fucking her, and press her whole body into the mattress, the petite gangbang queen will leak out all the rest. Through the lewdest of sounds and a clear lack of stamina, the thought of Gaeul filled with nothing but you pushes you through.

You feel the knot inside you loosen, strings and little last spurts of cum hitting her cervix as your tip is right up against it. Gaeul has her feet right up against your back, her heels pulling you deeper inside her. She's still rutting against you, her clit drawing circles against your crotch enjoying the friction and satisfaction it brings. The art of the orgasm, Gaeul has mastered it. In her scream, you find an infinite sea of bliss. It draws out your orgasm a few more seconds; perfect seconds.

Post-nut clarity kicks in and you try to block out the other people who are regaining consciousness in the room. Witness how ethereal her beauty is under the ceiling light. You want to kiss her. You want to tell her how much you love her. However, the harsh reality kicks in harder than the post-nut clarity as she shifts her gaze away from you and looks at the time. You close your eyes, take a deep breath to cherish just how fucking good her cock-warming cavern is.

You pull away, unfazed at the mess in front of you at this point. Party time is over and you’re victorious but defeated, a bit deflated even. Why is the girl you’re falling for the wrong type of queen?

"Hey..." Gaeul reaches out and grabs your forearm and pulls you a little closer to give you one last peck on your cheek. "Drive safely, okay?” Her fingers tiptoe towards your hand until it reaches the back of your it, her thumb gently rubs circles on it. A new level of intimacy that makes your heart stutter. “Message me when you’re back home."

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #ive smut #male reader smut #gaeul smut #kim gaeul smut #ive gaeul smut

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 1 month

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Hiiii so this is my first time asking for anything but can you do Astarion headcanons where Gn!Reader is basically a Living heater, like they’re always warm.

Heyo thanks for asking! I did the headcanons for spawn Astarion only as I haven't ascended him yet, hope you don't mind! Also this inspired me to write a fic where reader and Astarion share a bedroll and cuddle so thank you anon! Look forward to it!

Being able to feel warm is a novelty Astarion has recently come to love

His favourite spot in camp used to be the campfire, where he would always be found lounging with a book in hand, that is, until he found out how warm you are

Suddenly, you’ve adopted a very clingy vampire who wants to do nothing more than sprawl all over you like a cat sunbathing on a nice flat rock underneath the sun

Speaking of cats, he definitely purrs when cuddling with you, no matter how much he says otherwise

“You’re hearing things, darling” “Right…”

At first, he’s hesitant about how much physical contact you’re willing to put up with, only pressing shoulders with you and holding hands whilst sitting around the campfire

He’ll take what warmth he can from you without crossing any boundaries you may have, and feel his way around his position in the relationship

But as the two of you become closer, he starts to become more daring

The first thing he tries doing is hugging

Ever since you first hugged him, he’s been craving the intimate act, coming up with excuse after excuse to hug you such as checking you for injuries and being tired after a long hike

And now he has the perfect excuse

“You’re warm, I need the warmth” or so he says. Not that you mind, really

You keep silent about how he constantly melts in your arms during the hugs

Sometimes he pretends like he isn’t craving a hug but you can tell from the many glances thrown your way and the slight twitching in his arms whenever he’s right next to you, so to save him his dignity you initiate the hug

He loves it when you initiate hugs, it makes him feel warm both on the outside and the inside, the kisses that always come with the hugs are an added bonus

If you’re shorter than him, he likes to bury his face into your hair while holding you as tightly as possible so that he can absorb maximum warmth while feeling like he’s holding the world in his arms

If you’re taller than him, he likes to bury his face into your shoulder/chest, there’s so much warmth emitting from those areas, he can’t resist. Besides, it means easier access to your neck should he get a little peckish

Once the two of you are close enough, he starts resting his head on your chest and curling up against you

He likes hearing your heartbeat while indulging in your body heat, it keeps him grounded and trancing isn’t as scary as it used to be when he’s enveloped in your warmth

Sometimes he likes just lying curled up against you, a comfortable silence filling the air as he traces a length along your arm, intertwining his fingers with yours

His favourite place to cuddle is snuggled in a cocoon of blankets with you, he gets double the warmth especially on chilly nights

He’s alright with being the big or small spoon, unless he just woke up from nightmares then he’s all about being the small spoon for the night

He may not need massages, being a vampire and all, but he still likes to request them from you from time to time, if only because he gets to feel your warm hands on him. He doesn’t care how effective the massages are

All in all, he loves the toastiness that is you and would never trade it for the world

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin

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xazse · 3 months

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scara would be such an asshole to bunny!reader (or hybrid!reader in general) lol, constantly pulling your ears and pulling your tail..

can I request scara teasing bunnt reader and then he starts to feel a little bad when he notices his bunny is all sad and sulking!

How can he not feel bad when he hears your sobbing in the middle of the night?:( He'd probably fxck you dumb and fill you as a sorry <3

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: you guys are killing me so good 😭, btw if you do want more scara stuff leave me some prompts like the first anon did, I’m kinda running short on ideas. And I decided to combine two asks

Pairings: Scaramouche x Bunnygirl!Reader

Tags: Hybrid!Reader, Crying, Squirting, Mean!Scaramouche, Biting, NOT PROOFREAD (lol none of my works are)

Oh he’s such a bastard some days, when he thinks you’ve been a little too annoying some days he’ll simply tap your nose, he knows how sensitive the damn thing is, it’s the only thing that’ll get you to give him some time to hear his own thoughts, it doesn’t last long before you’re giving him feather light kisses all over his face.

A day where he’s relaxing in his office, all his work finished you come prancing in yipping for his attention again… for the third time today. He’s sitting in his chair when you come wrap your arms around his neck and sit down on his lap. Scaramouche really isn’t in the mood

to entertain you, so he gently pushes you off.

“Not right now..” Scaramouche scolds, he can’t see the hurt in your eye but you make no move to leave the room, you’ve been with him for a while but still aren’t used to blunt attitude.

The rest of the week is spent him pushing you away, turning you away, barely engaging with you, it hurts you so badly, you want to be able to talk about your day with him, cuddle and kiss him but he just isn’t going for it.

Your breaking point is when you were both in bed, you were half asleep and attempted to move on top of him just for the extra comfort, it was fine the first few seconds, your long fluffy ears relaxing before he once again brushed you off of him, insisting it was way to hot for you to be ontop of him.

That really was it, you started to sleep in the living room, giving scara the excuse that it was too stuffy in the bedroom right now, he didn’t even double check to see if that was the real reason. Later that night he’s awoken by soft sobbing, he’s been waiting so patiently for this, for you to break down already. He knows it’s a terrible thing to do, make his own girl cry just for the sake of pleasure, he can admit it was a little hard but nonetheless his pants tighten at the sound of your sniffles.

He treads soundlessly to the living room where you’re under the cover, on your stomach. your sobbing becoming more apparent. You haven’t noticed his presence yet, not until you jump from feeling a hand rubbing your cunt back and forth, only the thin layers of your panties keeping him from directly touching you. A small whine leaves your throat in-between your sniffling, and it’s so fucking hot, he doesn’t stop the motion of his hands before he’s palming his heavy cock beneath his hand.

His eyes are half lidded looking at your twitching tail, the small thing visible even under the cover. You don’t make a move to look at him either, simply content with just the pleasure he’s giving you. He removes the cover off your form he can’t see your face due to it being buried into a pillow, you won’t allow him to see your ruined face, won’t allow him to see the progress.

That just spurs him on further, his breathing’s increased a tenthfold. He grips your hips and lifts them up, but he lets you continue to sulk in the pillow, a nice arch being showcased to him. He doesn’t want to rush into fucking you, he wants you a little dumb and numb.

He pulls his underwear down a little, letting only his cock free, his balls heavy with need looking at your clothed cunt. He grabs ahold of your hips again and pulls you right against him: agaisnt his cock, he starts slow when he rubs himself against your pussy, groans are already leaving his throat in short pauses. He’s guiding your hips up and down.

You looked so cute, the ultimate submission from your part has his hips speeding up, he’ll worry about apologizing later, right now he needs to be balls deep inside of you.

He quickly pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to the cool night draft. His sweet bunny is oh so wet from the grinding: it makes the situation much easier. He jerks himself off a few times before lining up with your hole and pushing himself In all the way.

A sharp whine leaves your lips, it doesn’t even take another second before your clenching down on him, he doesn’t give you time, already giving you fast deep strokes, so deep he has to use a little bit of strength to hold your torso down. The way his cock drags along your walls is so good, so dizzying, he positions himself to press his stomach on your back, getting close to your head right in your ear.

“So good, you feel so good..” the way his voice shivers makes you feel a tad bit better but that doesn’t excuse the hurt, your tears have dried up, your sobs have stopped but the constant sniffling remains.

He continues to fuck you hard, whilst still whispering obscenities into your ear, he leans up just a little, seeing your ears twitch a sudden desire fills him, a mean one at that: he bites the fluff of your ear down hard. Your eyes flutter shut hard and you cry out in pain, he feels your pussy contract around him, and a liquid coating his cock, he feels his body flare up , he’s hammering into you even harder than before while you cry and babble out his name repeatedly, it’s the first time he’s made you ever squirt but it’s still an achievement, he didn’t even know your ears were just that sensitive.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #zsworks #fem reader #hybrid reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x female reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #dom scaramouche #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi x reader #reader x scaramouche

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anistarrose · 2 months

Text

I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide

[Plain text: "I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide." End plain text.]

While every image posted online should be accessible in an ideal world, we all know it 1) takes time to learn how to write image descriptions, and 2) is easy to run out of spoons with which to write IDs. And this says nothing of disabilities that make writing them more challenging, if not impossible — especially if you're a person who benefits from IDs yourself.

There are resources for learning how to write them (and if you already know the basics, I'd like to highlight this good advice for avoiding burnout) — but for anyone who cannot write IDs on their original posts at any current or future moment, for any reason, the there are two good options for posting on Tumblr.

1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord

[Plain text: "1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord". End plain text.]

The People's Accessibility Discord is a community that volunteers description-writing (and transcript-writing, translation, etc) for people who can't do so themselves, or feel overwhelmed trying to do so. Invite link here (please let me know if the link breaks!)

The way it works is simple: if you're planning to make an original post — posting art, for example — and don't know how to describe it, you can share the image there first with a request for a description, and someone will likely be able to volunteer one.

The clear upside here (other than being able to get multiple people's input, which is also nice) is that you can do this before making the Tumblr post. By having the description to include in your post from the start, you can guarantee that no inaccessible version of the post will be circulated.

You can also get opinions on whether a post needs to be tagged for flashing or eyestrain — just be able to spoiler tag the image or gif you're posting, if you think it might be a concern. (Also, refer here for info on how to word those tags.)

The server is very chill and focused on helping/answering questions, but if social anxiety is too much of a barrier to joining, or you can't use Discord for whatever reason, then you can instead do the following:

2. Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards

[Plain text: "Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards". End description.]

Myself and a lot of other people who describe posts on this site are extra happy to provide a description if OP asks for help with one! This does leave the post inaccessible at first, so to minimize the drawbacks, the best procedure for posting an image you can't fully describe would be as follows:

Create the tumblr post with the most bare-bones description you can manage, no matter how simple (something like "ID: fanart of X character from Y. End ID" or "ID: a watercolor painting. End ID," or literally whatever you can manage)

Use a tool like Google Lens or OCR to extract text if applicable and if you have the energy, even if the text isn't a full image description (ideally also double-check the transcriptions, because they're not always perfect)

Write in the body of the post that you'd appreciate a more detailed description in the notes!

Tag the post as "undescribed" and/or "no id" only if you feel your current, bare-bones description is missing out on a lot of important context

When you post it and someone provides an ID, edit the ID into the original post (don't use read mores, italics, or small text)

Remove the undescribed tag, if applicable. If you're posting original art, you can even replace it with a tag like "accessible art" for visibility!

And congrats! You now have a described post that more people will be able to appreciate, and you should certainly feel free to self-reblog to give a boost to the new version!

#accessibility #image descriptions

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

Text

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {7}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Your mother finally gets the truth out of you regarding Max. Warnings: 18+ only, swearing, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

The double bed was definitely not made to accommodate three people, even if you were all spooning, so you found yourself sneaking out at sunrise. You hadn’t been able to sleep with the thoughts running through your head, wondering why Max couldn’t have been more like your mother. You weren’t worried about waking Lando as you climbed out from between them, since you didn’t have an air horn on you, but you were careful not to jostle Charles who was a much lighter sleeper.

After changing into a pair of leggings and a sports bra, you found your airpods and shoved the Aura ring back on your finger before taking a lap of the village. You quickly settled into a good pace, feeling the rhythmic slap of your trainers on the pavement and timing your breathing to match. It cleared your mind and gave you a focus on something other than everything else that was happening around you. For those precious minutes you didn’t think about Max.

So far you had managed to avoid talking about him with your mum, though that was mostly thanks to being blindsided by your relationship status - it had been enough to distract her for the rest of the day. You weren’t so sure that luck would last another 24 hours but you would certainly try.

“Just leave her be, she’ll come in when she’s ready.” Your mother had been watching you all morning from her spot on the window seat, a cup of tea in hand. After Charles had woken up he had joined her and watched curiously, wondering why you were in the garden. “Avoiding me,” she said with a knowing smile. “It’s funny that the only times she would willingly do her chores were when she was trying to hide. It was a dead giveaway, but I never said anything. It was just nice to not have to ask her to do them.”

Charles chuckled as you battled to trim the agapanthus with a pair of rusted and blunt shears. “Should I offer to help?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, checking the time on her watch. “She’s nearly done.”

Charles quirked an eyebrow as he looked at the progress that had barely started to make a dent in the long drive.

“Fuck,” you hissed as you the slimy residue that leaked from every cut leaf made your hand slippery and the shears fell from your grasp, narrowly missing your foot. You went to wipe a wayward hair that fell onto your nose but the sun caught the shimmer of slime and you jerked back with a groan, instead trying to blow it out of your face. You grew more irritated as the hair remained where it was tickling your nose and the urge to sneeze built up. “Fuck this shit.”

Abandoning the garden, you marched up the path and kicked your filthy shoes off before storming through the house.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother greeted jovially. “Lovely day for a spot of gardening.”

“I’m calling Mr Newberry,” you grumbled on your way to the bathroom. “He can sort that mess out.”

You felt slightly calmer after washing away the slime and the chlorophyll that stained your fingers green and that feeling only grew when you found Charles waiting with a coffee made just how you liked it. “Busy morning?” he asked after handing over your elixir of life and taking his payment with a quick kiss.

“I’m just trying to help out,” you said with an innocent shrug. “I made a list of things that need fixing around here and if I don’t make the phone calls they will never get done.”

Charles tried to hide his amusement but when you narrowed your eyes at him he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “Your mother knows you so well,” he laughed as he leaned in to whisper, “She knows you are avoiding her.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does,” he assured you, running his hands along your sides before he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to her, amour.”

A shirtless and sleepy Lando stumbled his way into the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he made a beeline for the two of you. You placed your mug on the table before he reached you and let him fall into the middle of the embrace as his eyes fluttered shut again. He must have been burrowed under the blankets because the heat radiating off him was almost hotter than the blistering shower you had taken.

“Why are you awake?” he mumbled against your neck.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“She’s being a coward and avoiding her mum.”

That made Lando battle his exhausted state and force his eyes to open as his forehead crinkled with a frown. “Why?”

“I’m not.”

“Because she wants to know why that person-we-can’t-mention-for-another-eight-days keeps calling her.”

“You can say his name,” you grumbled. “Max Verstappen, World Champion, Number One. Prodigal Son. Cunt.”

Your mother gasped as she entered the room with a fresh brew of tea. “I should wash your mouth out with soap, young lady.”

You winced at the reprimand. “Oops, turns out we can’t say his name.”

“This has gone on long enough, take a seat - family meeting,” she ordered as she pointed to the table. Lando and Charles took a step towards the door but your mum tutted. “You’re a part of this family now too, gentlemen.”

“Should I put a shirt on?” Lando asked as he looked down at himself. “Or shorts?”

“Please don’t.” “Please do.” You spoke at the same time as your mother, both of you sending each other slightly irritated looks.

“Two Spitfires, Char, there’s two now,” he whispered under his breath as he went to get dressed. He obviously had been in a rush and blindly pulled clothes out because the tense atmosphere wasn’t enough to stop Charles from grinning at the sight of Lando in his Ferrari shirt.

Seated at one end of the table, you faced your mother while your poor boyfriends were the buffer between. Lacing her fingers together, she stared back at you and made that heavy sigh that every parent could which immediately induced waves of guilt. You didn’t even have anything to be guilty over, but it happened anyway.

“What happened with Max?”

You crossed your arms at the direct question. “This is why I don’t bring people home.”

“What happened with Max?”

“Nothing.” You dropped your head to the table with a thud as her penetrating stare became too much to look at.

“What happened with Max?”

“Fucksake,” you groaned as her persistence won over your impatience. “He called you a whore…well technically he called me one too, but it doesn’t matter. He disrespected you, mum, so instead of calling you what he can do is he can take his phone and go fuck himself with it.”

Lando covered his mouth as a quiet squeak slipped out behind his apologetic smile and you reached out with your foot, running it up and down his leg. You felt bad for subjecting him to this drama when he was as introverted as they come - not that anyone would guess after seeing him on tv. Charles seemed to just take everything on the chin and not a lot fazed him at all, but like you he was reaching out to soothe Lando under the table too.

“I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry,” you said as you started to push your chair out.

“Wait, please,” your mum asked quietly as her face softened. “He shouldn’t have said that, sweetheart, and I’m sorry that he did. I’m assuming it was after he found out about the three of you?”

You all nodded sullenly and she sighed. “It’s a shock, that’s no excuse, but it was a big shock. Maybe you should talk to him? It’s been a few days, he’s had time to think and reflect. You might be surprised.”

“Have you ever heard Max apologise?” you asked Lando and Charles. Both of their eyebrows furrowed in thought before they shook their heads. “See, Max doesn’t apologise, and I have no interest in hearing anything else from him.”

“As long as you’re doing it for yourself, honey, and not on my behalf. I have been called every name under the sun, but it's water off a duck's back. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to repair the relationship for some vindication for me. He’s your brother and you have missed so much of each other’s life already.” Your mother sighed again as she saw you had heard her words but they hadn’t broken the wall you had built. “Just think about it.”

She rose from the table, walking around it to rest her hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it,” she repeated before she left the room as you sagged in your chair like a puppet whose string had been cut.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you pulled it out to see your reflection broken on the screen. It still hadn’t been repaired from the last argument you had with Max when you accidentally cracked it. Perhaps it was a good reminder to keep.

Unlocking the device, you saw the notification from family share - alerting you that your location services were in use.

“Fucking cunt,” you groaned before hearing your name from the other end of the house. “Sorry! Can I call him a prick?”

Lando laughed and this time Charles joined in as your mother ranted to herself about your language. You couldn’t help that you grew up around mechanics and drivers, they were the most foul mouthed bunch of people.

Reaching across, Charles took a look at your phone before updating Lando. “He tracked her.”

“What do you want to do?”

Five minutes ago you would have ditched the phone and packed the car. Five minutes ago you might have threatened harassment. Five minutes of talking with your mother changed everything.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you dropped your head in your hands until they were pulled away. You could wear a blindfold and still know exactly who was holding your hand, recognising their touch and feel with the familiarity of intimacy. “What do you think I should do?”

“I’m not ready to forgive him for how he spoke to you, amour,” Charles shrugged. “If he was my brother, I honestly don’t know if that would change anything.”

“I’ll follow your lead, baby,” Lando said as he lifted your hand to his lips. “Whatever you decide. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you look really good in that shirt,” you said as you looked at Charles for confirmation, his smirk evident. “Really, really good.”

“I always look good. Stay focused.”

“I am focused. I am going to call the gardener, and someone to fix that bloody pavement. Then, maybe, I’ll think about what to do next, it’s not like he’s going to be knocking down the door right this minute.”

Both of them turned to the door expecting to hear it knock and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not the bogeyman. He just likes to think he is.”

You took your phone back and opened the family share app, selecting Max’s phone and watched as it zeroed in on the pin drop. “Shit,” you sighed as the blue dot moved along the street. Leaning back in the chair, you craned your neck to see out the window and caught sight of an Audi SUV pulling in the driveway. “I take that back. Can we run?”

Click here for chapter eight.

#charles leclerc x reader x lando norris #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc x you #lando norris x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

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generalllimaginesss · 4 months

Note

"I'm not letting you drive home in this condition” with Nico. I feel like he gives off protective energy. I’m imagining friends to lovers vibes. He falls first but they’re best friends. Maybe they met when he joined the Devils. Like randomly met somewhere and have been close ever since. And she has a really bad day at work. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. And she’s crying driving home and drives to his instead because she doesn’t want to be alone. Maybe he makes dinner (idk if this man can cook tbh) and then she’s still upset but tries to leave so he can get on with his night and he insists she stay because he doesn’t want her driving upset. And that’s when she realizes she’s in love with him. Like she drove to his place unannounced because she knew he was the only one who could comfort her and the only one she wanted to go to.

I’ve realized that I’m a sucker for Nico. He gives off golden retriever vibes and I feel like he would be such a nice person to be friends with. I hope you like it!!

••

You didn’t realize when you picked up your friends shift, now making you a double, that you would make very little money and the tables that you served were horrible. Not to mention your anxiety was at an all time high while you were waiting on a letter to tell you if you were accepted into the graduate program to your dream school. When all of these emotions combine, it makes for a shitty day.

Twelve hours after you clocked in, you were only up $150 dollars and finally were able to leave, your last table staying almost an hour after closing. There was dried sauces all over your uniform, your hair was disgusting, and you just felt heavy. With your emotions clouding your judgement, all you wanted to do was go to sleep.

As you made your way to your car that was parked behind the restaurant you worked at, a couple of notifications from your email caught your eye. The emails came from the two schools that you were betting your future on…

You decided it could hold off, the tears burning the corner of your eyes took priority, and you didn’t know if you could handle what the emails revealed.

While running your hands through your tangled mess of hair, tears freely fell, the product of being completely exhausted. The one person that kept flashing in your mind, however, was Nico. The devils played Anaheim and you weren’t able to keep up with the score, so you wanted to congratulate him on the win.

As much as you hated your job, you always reminded yourself that it was temporary, and most of all that without it you wouldn’t have Nico. The one person in the world that felt as lonely as you at one point on a rainy afternoon 6 years ago.

When Nico had first gotten to New Jersey, he didn’t feel close to anybody. Sure, he was the first overall draft pick. Sure, people loved him. But at the end of the day he felt like he had nobody. He felt like he had to keep this persona of “Mr. Tough Guy” up to prove himself.

He found himself all alone in the restaurant you work at, managing to snag you as a server. He must’ve sat at your table for hours, always finding something else to talk about every time you checked on him. He stayed until you got off and proposed the idea of going out to grab a drink or two, to which you happily obliged, finally hopeful that you found a friend.

Where Nico felt lonely in hockey, you felt lonely in school. Making friends in college was hard, especially when you’re from out of state and aren’t in Greek Life or in any extracurriculars. Your roommate and you had hardly had 10 conversations in the first year you lived together, so your studies became your main priority.

When Nico and you realized that you had a lot more in common than you thought, the friendship just developed naturally. When you were off work you supported him at his games. When he had a day off he helped you make flash cards and study. And on the rare chance that you both had nothing to do, movie nights were your thing.

Six years later and he was your very best friend. You told him everything. Every detail of your life was known by Nico and vice versa. You weren’t dependent on Nico for emotional support, but he was sweet to have around.

Tonight, however, was going to be one of those nights where you just needed somebody. You just needed Nico.

The tears cleared your eyes long enough for you to send Nico a quick text letting him know that you were headed to his apartment. He immediately responded with a thumbs up.

While you were driving, just about every depressing Olivia Rodrigo and Gracie Abram song played, reminding you of your relationship that had ended almost a month ago. You felt bad because Nico already had to deal with the mess you were then, and here you are again. Driving to his apartment, an emotional wreck and tired of the world.

You parked beside his car and walked up the flight of stairs that led to his door. You barely were able to knock when he opened the door and saw the state you were in. He could tell that you had been crying, probably only stopping when you parked, and that you needed somebody.

“Come here,” he held his arms opened in the doorway, enveloping you in the coziest embrace, the smell of his body wash lingering from his shower. Since he towered over you, he gently held your head against his chest and rested his head on yours, placing light pecks to the crown of your head.

He held you like that until you pulled away and made your way completely into his apartment, him closing and locking the door behind you.

He watched quietly as you made yourself at home, taking your shoes off and untucking your shirt from your pants. He chuckled to himself when he saw that you were wearing completely mismatched socks. He loved the quirky things that you did.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to congratulate you on the win,” your voice was nasally since you had been crying so hard and your nose was stopped up.

Nico smiled sadly, not wanting to make you feel worse, but aware he should probably tell you the truth.

“We lost, actually. Five to one.”

You groaned, disappointed in yourself that you didn’t bother to look up the score to make sure they won.

“I’m sorry. I worked a double and wasn’t able to watch. I just assumed with Anaheim’s record that you all would win.”

“Yeah, well, it just didn’t end up in our favor. They played pretty physical. You should go back and watch it,” He winked at you, a smile stretching from one corner of his mouth.

“But anyways, what’s wrong? I know you didn’t come here to just congratulate me on ‘winning,” he looked you up and down, taking note of the exhaustion that spewed from you.

“It just wasn’t a good day. I didn’t make money and then on the way over here music that reminded me of-” You tried to finish, but Nico immediately cut you off, reminding you of a relatively new rule that he had made.

“We don’t speak his name,” his eyebrows raised, warning you to not finish your sentence.

You sighed, “Ok, well you know who I’m referring to.”

Nico walked to his sofa, plopping down and patting the spot beside him , offering it to you. You happily obliged, tucking one leg underneath you and the other tucked into your chest.

“They emailed me back…the schools,” you announced, to which Nico instantly perked up.

“And? Did you get in?” A part of him wanted to see you live your dream, but he knew that with you getting into your dream school would mean you would be leaving New Jersey. More specifically, leaving him. The thought of not having you only 15 minutes away made him want to punch a wall. He had let himself fall for you, knowing that while New Jersey was home for him, it was merely a checkpoint for you. It was one step closer to you taking off in life.

“I didn’t look. I’m scared to,” You admitted, pulling out your phone and handing it to him.

“Please read it for me.”

He clicked on the email, his expression hard to read.

He didn’t want to read the news to you. He didn’t want to be the one that told you that you had been waitlisted by the two schools you were betting on, but he knew it was better for him to read it to you than you read it alone.

When you figured he had ample time to read both emails and he wasn’t telling you anything, a pit in your stomach began to take place. Tears quickly puddled, spilling over your bottom eyelid as if they were a never ending fountain.

“I didn’t get in, did I?” Your voice broke, in return breaking a little piece of Nico.

“Waitlisted by both, but that’s not a no,” He tried to make you feel better, but when your body started shaking and the tears turned into sobs, he knew you needed to be held. He obliged, wrapping his arm around your side, pulling you closer to him and rubbing your side soothingly.

You instinctively laid your head on his side, wanting to curl into him as closely as you could, as if he could protect you from everything that’s wrong in the world. Everything that felt like it was out to get you.

“Have you had anything to eat?” He knew as soon as he asked it that you wouldn’t want to eat. He also knew that if you had been working all day that you wouldn’t take the time to stop and eat.

He felt you shake your head side to side, confirming what he already knew.

“I was about to make a quick dinner. I was thinking breakfast? Maybe some pancakes, eggs and bacon?” He ran his fingers through your hair, deciding to take your ponytail holder out and place it on his wrist. You sighed, the relief from the tension of your ponytail helping you feel slightly better.

“Please,” you said, knowing he was going to ask you if you wanted some either way. No matter if you made it into your dream schools or not, you still had to eat.

Nico slowly peeled himself off the couch, finally realizing how exhausted he was. Back-to-back games finally catching up with him.

You followed him to the kitchen, claiming stake to one of the barstools, watching him as he began to prepare the food.

“I know you probably don’t know, but what’s your backup plan? Are you going to apply to other schools?” He asked, cracking eggs into a bowl with pancake mix.

“No. I’ll have to wait until next year. I’m stuck here for another year, Nico,” your voice was strained and scratchy, but he understood you.

“That’s not all bad is it? I mean I’m here,” he attempted to make you laugh, but it was to no avail.

“My roommate is moving back home and I literally have no one else who I think I could room with. We both planned on this being it for Jersey,” you laughed, not out of humor, but at the thought of how much has gone wrong in 12 hours.

“What about staying with me?” He asked the question before he could catch himself. Would you see straight through to his true feelings for you, or would you just think he was extending a friendly offer to one of his friends who needed a little help.

“Nico, why the hell would you want me to move in with you? Have you met me?” Your puffy eyes made eye contact with his sweet ones.

Oh, how absolutely clueless you were. It would have been cute had it not been his feelings for you in the mix.

“You’re not that bad. I’ve definitely had worse roommates.” He smiled as he flipped the pancakes on the griddle and placed the eggs in a pan on the stove to cook.

“I can’t accept your pity offer,” you reached across the counter for a paper towel to catch the snot that was creeping out of your nose.

“Don’t think of it as a pity offer. Think of it as…what’s that word for when it’s not a parasite, but both things benefit?” He looked to the ceiling as if it held the answer to his missing word.

You laughed, finding it cute that he sometimes can’t think of the right English word he’s looking for.

“Mutualism?” You pitch the word to him, to which he points to you enthusiastically.

“That! Think of it as that. I mean, I could use a little help around here,” he motioned to his apartment.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. I’d have to think about it,” Your tears were becoming manageable with him trying to make you feel better. You’d internally think about everything that went wrong and tears would brim again, but when Nico talked it made it better.

“Well think about it,” he said, his bacon looking a tiny bit burnt as he transferred it from the pan to a dish to serve to you along with some scrambled eggs and a pancake.

You began to dig in to the food, Nico following close behind you as he fixed his plate and sat beside you. The two of you ate in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a peaceful silence. It allowed for you to think and for him to think about you. He wanted to feel sad about you not getting into the graduate program, but a whole extra year with you? He couldn’t be too upset.

The two of you finished eating and washed your dishes, putting them up, Nico returning to the living room on the sofa and you putting your shoes back on.

“What are you doing?” Nico asked, his eyebrows raised inquisitively as he watched you tie your shoes.

“I’ve got to go home,” you said as you stretched your back.

“I’m not letting you drive home in this condition,” He started, ready to pitch his case for you to stay the night.

“You’re tired, upset, and you don’t need to be by yourself right now. Stay with me,” His eyes were practically begging you, but his tone was stern, evident that he would not be budging.

“I have no clothes-”

“I have some t-shirts.”

“I need to wash my hair and I have no shampoo or conditioner.”

“Nina left some here, use hers,” Nico had a solution to all of your excuses, making you realize that there really wasn’t a reason why you couldn’t spend the night.

“Just stay,” His voice was barely above a whisper, wrapping itself around your heart as you caved into him.

“Fine,” you sighed.

He showed you where all of Nina’s products were and laid out one of his old t-shirts on the counter in the bathroom. It was long enough to be a dress on you, swallowing you whole.

He ran the water for you and left you in the bathroom by yourself, causing you to let out a few silent sobs before getting in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the things you have no control over. You tried to think about the positives. You had Nico for another year.

Nico. Nico Hischier that held up your table all of those years ago. Nico Hischier that helped you study for every stupid exam you had. Nico Hischier that always ran to you first after every home game. Your Nico. Your best friend. The one that always had an open shoulder for you to cry on and open arms when you needed a hug.

Did guys treat girls like this that they just loved as friends? You sure as hell had never had one like him.

While thinking about all that Nico has been there for, tears begin to fall. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the possibility that Nico could be more than a friend. Would he feel the same? Would these newly discovered feelings be the downfall of your friendship?

Just as quick as the feelings surfaced, you shut it down. Nico meant too much to you for you to lose him over selfish feelings. Everything was perfect with him and your stupid little crush would not ruin that.

While you continued to shower, Nico changed the sheets on his bed, putting on fresh ones from the dryer so that you would be warm when you got in. He decided he would take the couch.

The smile that he had hidden while consoling you appeared as he prepared his apartment for you for the night. He thought about the possibility that you might move in with him, relishing in the idea that he could see you everyday when he woke up and at night when he went to sleep. Never ending movie nights and having his best friend 24/7…what possibly could be better?

You being his girlfriend. Would that come in time? Did he need to tell you his feelings or keep them to himself?

He had always been able to conceal his feelings, the fear of losing you greater than the pain of only being your friend. That had worked out fine, but when you rounded the corner of the hallway into the living room with his shirt hanging right above your knees and a pair of his long socks bunched on your leg, his breath hitched.

He let his eyes take in everything about you. The way your hair curled at the nape of your neck from the water, the random bruises that decorated your legs from being clumsy, a few pimples that dusted your face, only visible when your makeup was not, the random bit of mascara that you hadn’t managed to wash off.

He wanted you. He wanted you forever. He wanted you as his wedding date, his girl at the games. He wanted to share holidays with you, exchange anniversary gifts and plan birthday parties with you.

Everything in life he wanted to do with you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” He announced as he walked over to your small frame.

You were confused, about to open your mouth to ask him what he meant, but as soon as you realized he was leaning down to kiss you, your eyes grew wide in shock. His kiss cleared up what he meant.

He cupped your face with his hands, each thumb resting on your cheekbones as he very slightly pulled you closer to him.

Your lips moved in synch, making up for years of him loving you.

He noticed that you had a chapped spot on your lip, but he didn’t mind. The taste of strawberries from your lipstick from earlier lingered, causing him to deepen the kiss, never wanting to forget that taste.

You pulled away, needing to breathe. His eyes were still the soft brown ones that you loved, but you could tell that they looked at you differently from how you thought they did. Just standing in a t shirt and socks, they made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

A smile pulled at your lips, causing him to follow, his dimple making an appearance on his face. His scruff itched your face, but you didn’t mind.

“I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’m upset you didn’t get into school because I’m not. Call me selfish or whatever, but I need you. You keep me grounded. I want you here with me. Move in here, find something to do while you wait to reapply. I just know there’s nobody else that I love the way I love you,” he ended his confession with a kiss to your forehead.

“Ok,” You whispered, not wanting the warmth of his body to ever be far from you.

“I love you, little lady. A lot more than you realize,” He smirked at the blush that spread across your cheeks, the rosy pink that highlighted your skin revealing the effect that this boy has on you.

He pulled you into him, hugging you as if you would be gone any second and he couldn’t let you go.

When he finally did let you go, you both hopped into his bed and began watching Harry Potter, starting with The Prisoner of Azkaban since he knew that was your favorite one.

You fell asleep first, your head resting on his chest as he scratched your back. When he noticed the soft snores escaping your mouth, he smiled to himself. This was how it was meant to be. You and him.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine

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ma1dita · 11 days

Note

do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻‍♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest

🐥

also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)

wc: 860

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.

Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.

He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.

In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.

Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.

“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”

“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.

“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”

He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”

Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.

“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.

“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.

“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”

“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”

“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.

“Luke! Put me down!”

But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.

“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#trouble!verse #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — AIZAWA X READER

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

You sit up on the couch and level your sulkiest pout at him. “No, seriously!”

“If you were serious, I doubt you would be getting up,” he says dryly. He’s completely unsympathetic as he continues mopping the floor.

“I’m dying and you don’t care about me,” you whimper. “I’m going to die all alone! And miserable! And unloved!”

Aizawa sighs. Scrubs the palm of his hand over his closed eyes. Shoves his hands through his hair. You feel the tiniest hint of guilt creep in.

He drops his mop and walks over to you. For a second, you think he’s going to scold you. You know you’re being bratty. Aizawa’s had a long, tough day of being a pro-hero, and now he has to come back to babysit your spoiled ass?

“Hey,” he murmurs, slipping his fingers under your chin so he can tilt your gaze up towards him. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t be mad,” you whisper, burying your face into his stomach. The cool cloth of his black silk pajamas feels nice against your overheated face. You really do feel awful.

“I’m not mad,” he says.

“Good. Cause you’ll regret this when your wife is cold in her grave and you’ll have to reflect on-“

“What brought this on?” He’s carding his fingers through your hair as you hide your face against him. It feels nice, having him comfort you.

You could never lie to him.

“I’m scared,” you sniffle, half genuine emotion, half illness.

“It’s just a fever, baby,” he says. “Want me to take you to the hospital again? We can double check.”

“No,” your voice cracks in sync with the plummet of your stomach. To your embarrassment, tears are leaking out of the corners of your eyes. “I was worried about you.”

He waits patiently, still stroking your hair.

While you had gotten your diagnosis, Aizawa had thought it might be a good idea to get his check up too. He was efficient like that, always the cool, level headed one in your little duo.

“I saw your medical history. You have so many close calls, Shouta. So many times you could’ve died for real.”

Aizawa pushes you down on the couch and tucks you back under the covers. He strokes your sweaty hair off your head, thankfully regretfully. He’s always tried to hide the intensity of his second life from you. There was no reason for you to have to face the brutality he did. It satisfied something in him to be able to protect you, even from a part of himself. But looking at the sparkling ring on your finger, he knows that it’s all about to end soon.

Being a hero is as much a part of him as being your Shouta is. He won’t be the kind of fiancée who hurts you by locking himself away, even the aspects of him he wants to keep from you. He knows better, even if he likes seeing you as his refuge from hero life. At the very least, all he can do is try to ease the hurt.

He lifts your ringed hand and presses a kiss to the stone you picked out together. “I’ll be careful. I promise not to worry you.”

#sera writes #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #bnha x reader

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

I really love everything you write. Could you write with one of the Marauders or poly!marauders, whichever you think is best, where the reader has OCD (overchecking) where she often needs to check if the door/windows are locked before leaving, even if she doesn't wants to, but her brain always tells her to check it often. Or before bed where she needs to check if she turned off the stove and things like that? (if you don't feel comfortable writing, that's okay and feel free to ignore this request 🧡)

Thanks honey!!

cw: reader displays some symptoms of OCD

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 634 words

Despite the long day you’ve had and the way your eyelids are drooping, it takes Remus forever to get you to your room. You all but collapse onto the duvet, not even protesting when he slips your shoes off for you before coaxing you back up to wash your face and get ready for bed. (“You’ll be so upset if you wake up with your eyelashes sticking together and your outside clothes still on, sweetheart. And who’ll get in trouble? Me, naturally.”) Finally, when you’ve both washed the day from your faces, brushed your teeth, and changed into your sleep clothes, Remus reaches for the light, but hesitates when you sit up.

“Did you see me lock the door?”

Remus sighs, then feels immediately guilty for it. He’s not upset with you; it’s just frustrating, watching what your own fear will do to you when you’re already so exhausted. “Yes, dovey. I saw, you bolted it and everything.”

You’re looking more and more awake by the second, though fatigue still clings to you. You begin to gnaw on your lip.

“Want me to go check again?” he offers, knowing you won’t be able to rest until you’re sure.

“No, thanks.” You purse your lips, vexed with yourself beneath your worry. You slide your legs over the edge of the bed, standing despite the heaviness that seems to encourage you back down. “I’ll do it. I should check the windows too. And you had a candle going in the living room, didn’t you?”

You’ve already checked the windows, and the stove, and the oven. But you know that already; there’s no sense in telling you. Checking and rechecking is how you make yourself feel safe. “I put it out, but I’ll come with you to be sure,” Remus says, standing too. “For an extra set of eyes.” So he can reaffirm that everything’s been done when you ask again.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders as you go into the hall, hoping your quiet is due to tiredness and not any of the guilty, self-deprecating thoughts that always seem to be churning in that head of yours. Remus walks with you through your home, placing a hand on each burner of the stove to prove its coolness, testing the handle on the door to show that it’s locked, and placing the lid on his blown-out candle so there’s no chance of it reigniting and catching on the nearby curtains.

“Thanks for indulging me,” you say softly on your way back to the bedroom, casting a last glance behind you to ensure that you had, in fact, turned off all the lights.

“Don’t mention it, dovey.” Remus drops a light kiss on the crown of your head. He pulls the sheets aside for you, sympathetic to the eagerness with which you relax into the mattress. “Think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

“Mhm.” You curl up under the covers, looking at him with droopy, troubled eyes. “I’m sorry for being so paranoid.”

Remus’s chest aches faintly as he takes your face in hand, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. “You’re not paranoid, sweetheart. You’re just trying to keep us safe, and I appreciate it.” Your brows come together disbelievingly, and Remus doubles down, reaching downward to wrap his arm around your waist. “I do! C’mere, honey.” He tugs you toward him, and you help him out by rolling over, your back pressed to his front. Remus makes his chin at home in the juncture of your neck. “It’s not always convenient, but you’re protecting us. I get that, alright? And it’s nice to know our home isn’t going to burn down on your watch.” You’re soft and warm against him, and Remus gives your tummy an affectionate squeeze. “Now we can both rest easy.”

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iaure · 1 year

Text

𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁; 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟthe dearest collection - part one/beloved 𓆩♡𓆪 part two/prized 𓆩♡𓆪 part three/devoted 𓆩♡𓆪 part four/desperate 𓆩♡𓆪 part five/blind 𓆩♡𓆪 part six/watcher 𓆩♡𓆪 part seven/ardor 𓆩♡𓆪 part eight/fervor this is very heavily inspired by @//clusterfuck-yandere's yandere leon headcanons; please check out their works. this is something of a love letter to their puppy obsession series.

yandere leon s. kennedy headcanons; reader is a survivor of raccoon city. tw: general yandere/obsessive behaviour, ptsd, survivor's guilt, cyberstalking, mentions of suicide (though not the actual act of it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i intend for this to be multiple parts, as it's already become quite long before there was any real yandere behaviour. updating may be scattered due to work.

you met him in the aftermath.

♡ there was an online support group for survivors, and after you barely escaped with your life, you needed all the help you could get.

♡ most of the members were nice enough. there was a lot of comforting, a lot of 'it's not your fault' and a lot of just trying to cheer each other up.

♡ there was one member in particular that always, always responded to your posts and comments.

♡ the user didn't have an account; you always simply chalked it up to them being technologically illiterate, or maybe they were simply forgetful.

♡ perhaps that was a bit naïve; if they could always remember your posts, who were they to forget having an account?

♡ but that didn't matter. they always signed off the same way-with a single initial, K.

♡ maybe it was a bit sappy. but having someone in your corner felt nice, after everything.

♡ ultimately, they were harmless and sweet, so having them around in your little slice of the internet was fine. ♡ they always worked double-time to cheer you up.

maybe K was a bit jealous. ♡ when you would speak with other group members, K would like your responses.

♡ sometimes, though, they'd pitch in; ignoring the other user entirely and simply talking with you as though you were the one who started the conversation.

♡ you tried to ignore it. other members on the forum didn't say anything, so you assumed it wasn't too strange.

but then they started to become more intimate. ♡ they would bring up small things that felt too strange to be a coincidence.

♡ they'd recommend you relax by watching that show you just started, or snacking on some of your favourite food, or taking a nap because it 'seemed' you were working to hard.

♡ they were personal enough to make your stomach churn, but it was not enough that you weren't able to reason it away.

♡ they were still so sugary sweet as well, and despite the unnerving nature of their kindness, the support meant everything.

♡ in a forum where everyone is upset and needing help at once, having someone that focused on you was nice.

♡ because at the end of the day, when you went into your bed, there always felt like something was wrong.

♡ the room was too small. you thought of what you did in the city, what you didn't, who you didn't save and who you damned.

♡ the sheets were too warm. your window had a shadow over it. the closet, was it cracked open? did something move around when you weren't looking?

♡ part of you knew in your heart of hearts that it was simply Raccoon City scaring you like a ghost. because if it wasn't, then what was haunting you?

you needed to get out. so, you got a job.

♡ at first, it was hell on earth. just leaving your home was hard enough; but going outside for upwards of eight hours was horrifying.

♡ your manager and coworker, however, were kind. they knew what you had gone through, and didn't rush you. the regulars were sweet, giving short words of encouragement.

♡ maybe this wasn't so bad.

♡ courtesy of the little bakery you worked at now, you were fed. you were getting paid. you began getting more sunshine, cleaning up more, feeling more accomplished.

♡ you started to stop posting.

♡ you had other things to focus on, now. you were considering getting a pet; so you had to save up money.

♡ but after a week and a half of not going on the forum at all, you decide to make an update.

K had made an account.

♡ oh, they had made one; they had made it to send hundreds upon hundreds of pleas into your messages.

♡ 'please, you mean so much', they begged. 'talk to me!', they wept.

♡ maybe they assumed you had offed yourself. it was possible.

♡ you took a second to look through all of them, feeling warm at first. K was sweet and kind and so soft, apparently.

♡ but with every message, they seemed to take one inch closer to strange, to creepy, to outright alarming.

♡ "please don't do anything rash!"

♡ "you don't know how much you mean to me!"

♡ "i know it's hard, but hang on for me!"

♡ "i need to know you're okay!"

♡ "whatever it is, i can help, please just let me in"

♡ "is it that job? it's the job, right? they're working you to death"

♡ "please just respond!"

♡ the horror seemed to grow with every message, up until one from just an hour or two ago;

"i just love you too much, i think" ♡ something isn't right.

♡ ...

♡ maybe it's time that you blocked K.

♡ you blocked their account, knowing it probably wouldn't do much. if they knew about your job, then what else did they know about?

♡ but you didn't hear much after that. there was a day or two where you were scared to even go to work, but that's alright.

you have a new regular.

♡ he's very sweet, almost achingly so; whenever he came into the bakery, he seemed equal parts nervous and bashful. he always tipped exceedingly well, and his order usually was some sort of new health option the owner was trying out.

♡ he wasn't just nice, though; he was pretty as well. he had a cute chin and his hair seemed always soft, and he spoke offhand about how he liked to work out because of his job.

♡ He was always happy to talk, but knew to leave if there was a line and didn't stay any longer than he was wanted.

♡ you didn't even know his name for a good month; but he often took liberty dropping yours.

♡ when you asked how he knew, he had a bright flush on his face before admitting that he had asked your coworker.

♡ how sweet!

♡ you found his name was Leon S. Kennedy, who was self-dubbed as "rookie cop extraordinaire".

♡ he began to clearly go out of his way to come into the bakery, sometimes coming in after clear workouts with a gym bag over his shoulder and a tank top on. was visiting a bakery after a workout counterintuitive?

♡ absolutely.

♡ but you don't mind. it's nice, seeing a cute face coming into work. and it always feels like he's doing it just for you. quite the special creature you are!

♡ he held a constant enthusiasm to talk to you, and it's enough to make your heart ache.

♡ the kicker comes when, offhand, he mentions Raccoon City; how he had gone to the police department for his first day and ended up saving a woman and a young girl from the apocalypse.

♡ instantly, your heartstrings are pulled because oh god. someone who understands. someone who did more than you could, has done more.

♡ you finally begin to get closer to him of your own accord. once or twice, you've even hinted at being single.

♡ each time you did, Leon would freeze; big blue eyes staring right at you with a pink flush that would anyone crumble. he even shook a little, like a small dog, and each time you'd have to laugh.

♡ it snaps him back to reality, and the conversation carries on.

but things are quiet on the eastern front.

♡ you haven't heard much from K since you blocked them. it's only natural, considering the steps taking. but sometimes, you wonder if K is still watching, what K really knew.

♡ maybe they were just an excellent guesser.

♡ but they've since gone silent. account or no, they're not saying anything anymore, and there's some semblance of peace.

♡ but you're still uneasy. something is still wrong.

♡ ...

♡ was your bed always this warm when you wake up?

#yandere leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere resident evil #yandere x reader #yandere resident evil x reader #˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ palabras muertas #divagaciones (per)

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reverieblondie · 1 month

Text

Neighbors

Chapter 4: Via the Window

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Eludes to voyeurism kink but nothing explicit.

Summary: It's time you thank Spider-Man properly...

A/N: I hope you enjoy the update! Hoping to get these out more frequently!

Word Count: 2,392

‘If I shut my blinds you won’t know where to come get your thank you.’

‘Thank me how’?

‘Come by Monday night and find out?’

‘I will swing by then’

Your Sunday has been spent in two ways. One you had taken the time to get ready for your first week of school. Write out your schedule and figure out what buildings your classes would be in. Best to prepare for your first day to eliminate any surprises that could occur. Two, and far more nerve-wracking; you kept talking with Spider-Man through notes via your window. At the time leaving notes and checking every few hours for a new message from your pen pal was an exciting experience. It was a thrill to get a new message when you weren't even able to catch a glimpse of him! How could he even be that sneaky?

Well now it’s Monday and you're having to reflect on your messages…

You said you wanted to thank him, but now that it's Monday you find yourself playing with the last note he left you. You're still trying to wrack your brain for ideas, but you can’t sit and stir forever. You have a big day ahead! As you're getting ready to leave for school you're double, triple checking that you have your things and that you look decent. Going from the living room to your bedroom, back to the living room to the bathroom like a madman. Once you scramble into the kitchen to make a bottle of water, it clicks. Turning towards your admittedly out-of-date oven the brilliant idea hits, cookies!

Who doesn’t like cookies? Maybe it's a bit old-fashioned or maybe he doesn’t like sweets, but it's the thought that counts right? Just a nice thankful gesture right? Well, there are other thankful gestures you could do for him…But you quickly shake away the thought, you don’t even really know him best not to cross any boundaries; not yet at least.

Getting your mind off of…activities you check your phone and see that you need to leave, don’t want to risk being late on your first day. Doing one last run you check yourself and your things. Before you exit your apartment you find yourself going to your window on pure impose, checking it one last time before you leave. A part of you wishes you would see him swinging by like he's checking on you but you know you won’t catch him.

Walking out of your apartment you look over to Peter's apartment. You haven’t seen him since your moment together in the laundry room. Admittedly you take your time locking your door for the off chance Peter would be leaving his apartment at the same time as you. Though you quickly come to find that your day is not going to start with seeing a brave hero or your annoyingly cute neighbor, that's not going to be a damper on your day. Walking to school making sure to stay out of the bike lane you open your phone and start looking up cookie recipes.

As expected the first day of classes was nothing more than a lot of info dumping about the class and all the materials needed to be successful in the class. Yes, it is easy to just sit and listen but that doesn’t mean it's any less tiring to have to go through. Taking a stretch you feel your muscles stretch and hear your bones softly popping. Just have to go to the store then you can get your little thank you gift for spidy going. The thought of seeing him leaves a giddy feeling to swell in your stomach. But that is soon interrupted when you see a familiar face walking past.

Well, well if it isn't your odd neighbor, of course he didn’t mention you two go to the same university, typical…

“Peter!”, you call out

In an instant, he's stopping and turning to meet your eyes with a somewhat surprised look on his face, though there is a slight hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. You quickly approach him making your way past the swarm of other exhausted college students.

“You know this is starting to get a bit frequent, first the elevator, then the laundry room, now here. Are you following me?” He teases with an annoyingly adorable smile.

“Yeah, if I’m going to stalk anyone it would be a celebrity, not my random neighbor.”

“You would stalk someone? Bad girl…”

The teasing nickname sends a rush over your spine but you must resist, he's insufferable…and adorable…dammit.

Ignoring the comment you kept the conversation moving, “You know most people mention if they go to the same school as someone else they know.”

He shrugs, “True, but that kills the fun of you having to figure it out.”

“Oh, so fun Pete”

“You're welcome. Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah, I was heading home, well going to go to the store then home.”

Peter smiles as he adjusts his backpack, “I was also heading home, you want some company for the trip?” - Well isn't this a friendly change?

“Sure.”

Now you have eggs and sugar, but chocolate chips, flour, brown sugar, and vanilla extract you need to buy. Just to find them is the issue, this store Peter took you to is different from the one you have started to get accustomed to. Peters runs off to grab something, leaving you to wander down the aisles by yourself, so much for his company...

As you browse down the aisle something catches your eye and it's staring in your direction. Two men seem to be whispering and glancing in your direction. You turn to see if they are looking behind you but nothing seems to be odd enough to catch any attention. Facing them again you see they have slid closer and you're starting to feel nervous that it may be you that is catching their attention, but why?

Is there something on your face? Are they staring at your basket? Are you doing something wrong? You're starting to become uneasy as you do your best to just ignore them. They are whispering amongst themselves and you just keep your eyes forward, just ignore them, and let them walk past you.

As the men start to walk in your direction a sudden warmth then wraps around you for a second you're frightened but as you look to see who has their arm wrapped around you you see Peter's striking profile.

“There you are, did you find all the ingredients?”

You look at him confused and he just winks before holding you tighter, sliding his hands to hold you in a hug as his chin rests on your shoulder. The feeling sends a rush down your spine. It's all so quick and confusing, why is he holding you? Did he see you were nervous? Turning you see Peter staring at the two men who had been approaching you up. But now seeing that Peter is with you they quickly scurry away.

Once they are gone Peter's warmth leaves you and there is a zipping of your bag and things start to click.

With a smirk, Peter ruffles your hair and you glare at him.

“You need to pay attention before you get pickpocketed.”

Swatting away his hands he smiles before grabbing your basket and heading towards the register. You bite back a smile and take a second to fix your hair before following him.

“You know I could have carried my bags”

“No, no, it's fine. If my aunt May found out I walked home with someone without helping with the groceries I might just get disowned.”

“Oh? Is that where you learned to be so chivalrous?” you say mockingly as you unlock your door.

After a little effort with the old lock, you get the door open and gesture for Peter to step in. As he steps inside and you see him looking around you realize he's the first guest you have had in your apartment. Taking the groceries from him you start putting away things you don’t need and taking out the things you do.

“You keep staring around at the place, are you not impressed by my decorating skills?”

“Actually smarty pants, I am impressed, might need you to come over and help me with my place. You even managed to get the mildew smell out.”

You smile then turn on your oven with a turn to the old dial, “I charge by the hour and am very bossy. I will warn you”

Peter's eyes flash with mischief, “I wouldn't mind that…”

Folding your arms over your chest you look at him confused, is he flirting? Peter's confidence starts to falter as he rubs the back of his neck trying to ignore the budding tension in the small kitchen. Looking at your counter he sees all the ingredients out.

“Making something?” -smooth change the subject

“I am, just some cookies for a…Friend?” that is technically what you are doing…but can you call Spider-man a friend? You two are friendly but friends? Before you can get wrapped up in thought Peter is speaking up.

“Friend? Judging from how you say it, I assume you two are very close.”

Start to take out your measuring cups and recipe. You roll your eyes at him, “He's a new friend, well acquaintance…”

Peter eyes your hands as you start to place everything down. His eyes on you are starting to make you slightly nervous…but in a good way…where it feels like a rush, “I'm an acquaintance and neighbor.”

“Well, he helped me with something.”

“Um, I carried your groceries and took care of a spider for you.”

“I thought you were carrying my groceries so you wouldn't be disowned, and if I recall you called me dramatic about the spider.”

Peter thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers, “Playful banter between friends.”

Wow, he wants cookies. Letting out a sigh you look at his smirking face trying not to smile. “Do you like chocolate chip?”

“That's my favorite.” -of course it is…

Peter then gives you one more smile before grabbing his bag to leave. “Well, I will leave you to it. Thank you.”

“Oh get cookies then leave?”

“I have a deadline, unfortunately, those spider-man pictures won’t edit themselves”

The mention of the hero's name causes you to perk up, as Peter is heading towards the door you muster up the courage to ask him about it. “Do you think maybe I could see some of your pictures sometime?”

Peter adjusted his bag on his shoulder opening the door, “Bring the cookies and you can look through all my photos. Later.”

Carefully you tie a neat blue bow on the bag to make sure it stays closed. Finally, you got the cookies done and to your credit, they are probably the best cookies you have ever made. Thank you internet for all the baking tips!

Looking out the window you see it is very late and it's time to get ready for bed after all your hard work. Stepping into your room you go to shut the curtains so you can get changed, but as you go to shut the curtains you have a stray thought…what if he's watching out there…swallowing your dry throat you keep the curtain open and turn your back to your window. He said he would be by later… it's later…

With trembling hands, you lift your shirt over your head dropping it to the floor as you shake your hair out.

Is he out there…

Sliding your hands down your body you start undoing your pants slowly, your body feels hot and you can feel your face flushing to a bright red as you strip down to your underwear, closing your eyes you go to slide down your panties.

The thought of his gloved hands roaming across your skin, the feeling of his weight and warmth pushed against you, stomach tying into knots and with a deep breath you open your eyes looking over your shoulder, and you see…

Nothing…

Whipping your hand down your face you quickly grab your pajamas and put them on. What were you doing stripping like he would be watching…Ugh, that is so embarrassing! You don’t know him and here you are getting horny like a fangirl, get a grip on yourself! You need to start meeting more people so you stop fantasizing about superheroes… maybe Peter has friends…or maybe Peter…

No! Not crossing that line, he's the only person you know in this city you can’t go mucking that up! No way! Off limits!

Walking to the kitchen you look at the two bags of cookies, Peters you will drop off tomorrow. A smile stretches to your lips, you two have become something akin to friends. It's a relief to have him not hate your guts still snarky though…but funny. Maybe you will run into him at school again…

Turning to the other back you feel your heart race increase, Spidys cookies… You hope that he enjoys these. There is the chance he might find this as a lame gift, you can only imagine what kinds of gifts he receives after saving people. Have others made him treats? Giving him money? Presents? Something else…would he want that…You swallow your dry throat and quickly write a note attaching it to the bag to keep your mind busy.

Do spiders enjoy sweets? - you include a doodle of a spider seemingly eating a cookie.

Hopefully, he likes them and isn’t disappointed by the thank you.

Walking over and opening the window there is a slight breeze that sends a chill through you. You wish you could leave the window open tonight to enjoy the breeze but you know better. Placing the bag of treats on the window seal you adjust the note and the bow so they look perfectly placed. Once set you look out into the glimmering lights of the city taking in the breeze, the sights, the noises, but that's when you hear a clearing of a throat. Looking up you see that iconic mask, body clinging to the wall as he looks down at you.

“You have a thank you for me?” his voice coos

You forget all about your cookies…

Tags:

@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay @juliluvhz @avareadsthings @xxrougefangxx @briviny @llpovi @beautyb1ade @lulawantmula @kikieatshomophobes

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