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#i should draw the covers i want. in fact i will. in fact i have already for some
dwtdog · 3 days
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Nursing Home AU, from the list of reverse tropes
DNF, ~1.7k words, fun little drabble as a break from finals :33
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George’s walker catches on a stray piece of carpet and he grumbles, waving off the nearby nurse who turns her head toward him. He can handle this himself, thank you very much.
He straightens his back as he nears the door that he knows opens to the room just above his, all the complaints he’s built up in the weeks since his upstairs neighbors moved in at the tip of his tongue as he raises a fist to knock, grunting slightly at the way his shoulder creaks with the effort.
After three quick, hard knocks that he’s sure will be audible through whatever hearing impairment burdens the person behind the door, he studies the decorations with a careful eye. There are unframed pictures scattered across the door, some close to falling off the weak adhesives that secure them. George has to hold himself back from pressing them back down, telling himself that whoever is pictured in them probably deserves to have their treasured family pictures swept up by the night workers.
Because they’ve made George’s life a living hell.
He didn’t think his time in a nursing home could get any worse, until this neighbor moved in. It was like they had bricks attached to the bottoms of their shoes and frequently performed tap dancing routines, or like they had a particularly rambunctious pet elephant that traipsed around the place at all hours of the day.
George had done his best to be patient. He really had, but it’d been long enough. He’s dealing with this here, and now.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the door handle turns, and the solid wood slowly eases open towards him. He shuffles back to avoid being hit, because he doesn’t exactly trust them to be caring of his health now.
The deep frown that he’s been wearing since he was awoken that morning by thundering footsteps directly above his bed shifts to something softer when he sees the man opening the door.
The first thing George notices about him are the eyes- a golden yellow that he knows is really green, set in a kind face weathered with smile lines. The second thing George notices is that he does not, in fact, have bricks attached to his shoes, and that brings the frown right back to his face.
“Uh- Hello. How can I help you?” the man asks, and he sounds nice enough. George thinks it’s an elaborate front.
“Are you aware,” George starts, bringing his eyes up from the mans shoes. “That there are people living below you?”
He blinks. “It would be pretty weird if they didn’t, yeah?”
“So you are aware them,” George clears his throat, crossing his arms. “That you should consider that before stomping around up here like a bull with dementia?”
George almost finds it satisfying, to watch the way his expression goes from open and friendly to sour, the way his stance comes to mirror George’s, down to the crossed arms. 
“So it’s a sin for a man to walk around his own house now is it?” he says, and George finds it hard to take him seriously with the ridiculous hat covering silvery hair- it’s pointed at the corners, taking a shape similar to the ears of a cat. “Just turn down your hearing aids.”
“Don’t need them,” George says curtly, rubbing a finger over the skin of his left ring finger, a habit he hadn’t dropped since his divorce. It draws his eyes to the same place on the man across from him, and he notices that he wears no ring either. “And it is a sin if you’re disrupting my sleep.”
He looks ready to argue back, but his eyes dart down to the movement of George’s finger, and he seems to change his mind. “Listen if you want to debate the bible, the lady three doors down can go for hours. Let’s say, instead, you come in for a cup of hot chocolate. Get all your complaining out.”
George shifts on his feet, feeling his hip pop as he does, and it reminds him that sitting down sometime soon would be nice….
“Fine. But if there’s no vodka in that chocolate I’m stealing something.”
With a small smile that makes George’s heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in decades, the man steps aside, pushing the door all the way open. “I’m Dream, by the way. I don’t think you introduced yourself.”
“George,” he replies as he steps forward, struggling for a moment to lift his walker over the edge between the hall and Dream’s carpet. “Strange name.”
Dream laughs, and George is distracted from looking over every inch of his apartment when a small animal appears, walking with its tail held high. 
“You have a cat,” he observes, and Dream turns from where he’d been pouring milk to heat up. George sets his walker to the side as he ever so carefully crouches down to pet the thing, smiling to himself when it purrs.
“He likes you,” Dream says, and there’s a note of fondness in his voice. “That’s Spirit. He probably hates my stomping just as much as you do.”
“Oh, you’re a smart one then, aren’t you,” George coos, rubbing under the cats chin. He’s a big cat, with long orange fur and some spots of gray on his muzzle, and ridiculously long whiskers that tickle where they brush against George’s leg. “You ought to bite him more. Maybe piss on his bed,” George says in a faux whiper, leaning down as much as he can.
“Oh, so now you’re trying to turn my cat against me?” Dream says, and George nearly jumps from the sudden proximity. “Need a hand up?”
George huffs, glaring at the offered hand but taking it anyway, groaning loudly as he stands. “So you can walk quietly,” he grumbles, eyeing the distance between he kitchenette and his current position.
“Only when I want to” Dream says with a wink, and George really wishes he still had his own cane- a much better weapon. “Come here, sit down before I have to call someone to help you. God forbid that new one- what’s her name- Rosa, god forbid she shows up. She’d have you on the ambulance in a matter of minutes.”
George laughs, following as Dream leads him to a chair in the living area, acutely aware of their still connected hands. “She on this floor too? Sent my neighbor to hospice for a cough. Haven’t seen her since.”
As George lowers himself onto the chair, Dream still doesn’t let his hand go, and George can feel a blush, of all things, creeping up his neck and staining his face.
“You planning to hold my hand forever, or-” George suggests, just as the microwave beeps. “Don’t tell me you microwaved the milk.”
“How else would I do it?” Dream asks, pulling his hand back and turning back to his microwaved milk. “You want peppermint?”
“I want vodka. And I don’t know, on the stove, maybe?”
“Too much work,” Dream says cheerily, and George sighs, long and exaggerated. 
He looks around Dream’s living space as he waits, noting the various pictures with his seemingly excessively large family. It’s not the only thing he’s looking for, but he can’t help but notice the lack of any sort of spouse.
“Snooping around already?” Dream asks as he returns, two steaming mugs in his hands. “You could probably find my whole life’s story on these walls.”
George meets his eye as he hands a mug over, wrapping his easily chilled hands around it gratefully. Dream takes the chair opposite his, and watches as George takes his first sip. As much as he wants to hate whatever microwaved monstrosity is swirling in the mug, he has to admit that it tastes damn good.
“‘T’s good,” he says into the mug, not missing the way Dream’s face lights up at the admission. “Family recipe?”
“Nope, all mine,” Dream says with a grin. “Come on, I know you have questions. Hit me.”
George hums, making a show of thinking it over. The burning question feels too obvious, and too revealing. He’s only just met this man a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t be asking about his love life. And yet-
“No wife?” he asks bluntly, taking a big sip right after. 
Dream laughs, setting his own mug aside as he leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Nope. Never settled down. Always felt like I was chasing something just out of reach, like I needed to wait until the perfect person came along. And now look at me,” he laughs again, this time sounding more forced. “Left in a home to die alone. Probably doesn’t help I only realized it wasn’t a wife I should have been looking for what, ten years ago?”
George leans back in his chair, studying Dream in a new light. “Trust me, men aren’t worth it either. My husband filed for divorce, what, 20 years back? Never even bothered to tell me why. One day there, the next, gone. Took everything too.”
“That why you ended up in Florida? Don’t meet many British people around here.”
“Wanted to die under the sun,” George says easily, the alcohol warming his veins. “London was too grey, too many memories. I always loved it here.”
They sit in silence for a bit after that, only broken by Spirit jumping up to George’s lap with a loud meow.
“So no kids?” George asks, easing one of Spirit’s big paws away from where it’s kneading at his shorts, claws digging into his skin.
“You’ve got the only one on your lap,” Dream says. “Well, grandkid, technically. His mom was mine too.”
George nods, tangling his fingers in the long fur. “You ever think about second chances?”
“I think I’m on third’s by now,” Dream chuckles, meeting George’s eyes curiously. “Why, you rethinking the way you introduced yourself?”
“In your dream’s,” George says with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind coming over again- to tell you off, probably.”
“And to pet my cat. And drink my vodka.”
“That too,” George nods. “Might need to visit a lot, then.”
“Well,” Dream shifts in his seat, and he appears to be fighting off a smile. It still reaches his eyes, and George can’t help but think of the man he sees on the walls- happy, glowing. Hopeful. “Then I guess I’d have to let you in. As an apology for the stomping.”
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heartorbit · 4 months
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THE CUTESITS
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ratwithhands · 2 months
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1 - Diantha security detail comic
2 + 3 - Emmet's UDF uniform vs Kalosian Guard uniform
4 - Lore/Background comic
Hooo boy ok so this idea has been simmering on the backburner for a while now. So Legends Z-A had its trailer released a few days back and I figured I'd make something around it. I know logically it's going to be a game set in the past but I found myself wanting to work on something more futuristic/sci-fi which is why we have our little Cyber Emmet here.
There's a lot of different things to mention so I'm just gonna break them down by the images.
1:
Diantha is attending a conference/ceremony where she will be discussing the plans for the urbanization of Kalos with the assistance of neighbouring tech giant and long time trade partner Unova. As a sign of goodwill, the Unovan Defense Force sent several people to either work as security or to help organize and prepare the ceremony. Among the list of people is Emmet, who was recently "working with" the UDF, and who is going to serve as Diantha's bodyguard for the event
Emmet's uniform was made by a mix of Unovan and Kalosian designers. It's meant to mimic the shapes while still keeping aspects of his Unovan uniform (mainly the collar, cuffs, and silver trim). He is carrying a handgun from his UDF uniform, however due to the public nature of the event, he is using his charge pistol instead of his wired pistol. He's also using a different face shield, using a silver one as opposed to his black one, since it better matches the uniform he's wearing for the event
Diantha's fur coat still has the angel wing shape. This isn't lore relevant I just couldn't fit the full thing onto the panel but it's definitely there
2 + 3:
Emmet uses a wired pistol (left side holster) and a charge pistol (right side holster). Both are standard issue firearms used by the UDF, however charge pistols are more common thanks to them being easy to hold and carry. A wired pistol connects to a battery pack of some kind to fire at a greater speed, whereas a charge pistol will generate its own power but take longer to fire and load. Emmet's wired pistol connects to the battery network that powers his body, allowing him to take advantage of his fast reflexes by using his faster weapon
Emmet doesn't get anything to wear for his Unovan uniform! Part of the contract he signed for his cybernetics states that he can't cover the prostheses unless it could lead to a breach in confidentiality (such as going to a foreign region or appearing in public outside of work reasons) since he's meant to effectively advertise the quality and construction of the body built for him. Of course he refuses to go outside completely naked to fight so the UDF got him a cropped version of his coat and shoes so he can have some more cover
The face shield is meant more for form than function. Technically the only purpose they serve is to cover his face when he's out on patrol, though it can also act as a screen to show him information about what he's seeing (kind of like an AR headset). He could technically get the screen function though cornea implants but he's not doing that + he wants the anonymity provided by the shield
Sections of the body can split open or be removed. The front abdominal panel can do both due to the different processing mechanisms inside needing easy access for repair/maintenance. Limbs can be swapped for different prostheses provided they have a compatible socket
The sockets in Emmet's back can be used to power other weapons/devices if he has a compatible cable. Emmet was given a bag of different attachments and cables to hook into his back so he can power a range of things from phones to laser rifles
He has removable skin. Any shot of him with the black body is the body without skin. In situations where he could possibly have skin showing or he is required to wear something that shows more skin, he'll have material rolled over the sections of his body that will be visible so they look more normal
4:
Emmet got run over by a train ♥ long story short is that he went to rescue a passenger who had fallen off the platform and miscalculated how much time he had before the train pulled in. Once he got stabilized in the hospital afterwards, he only has around 30% of his original body intact, along with some sections they were able to somewhat repair but required new hardware being installed in order to return their function. Anything under the waist and a large portion of his arms were crushed beyond repair and as such, he's been connected to different machine to mimic the functions of his organs
The UDF (in a rather scummy play) contacted Emmet for business, asking him to sign a contract that would ensure he would live by letting them test their confidential new tech on him. He is the only ethical candidate they have for testing such prostheses so to get him to agree, they offer to cover the cost of everything relating to his health and work, as well as paying him a salary for the trouble. Since the only other options are "die slowly" or "lose all self sufficiency and go bankrupt living in hospital", he agrees, and so begins his second job as a living experiment and tool for the UDF
I think that's the most I've written for one post yikes. This isn't even everything but I'll cut it here because my hands are not pleased with me typing.
I still have a lot to think about for this concept, mostly what kind of work Emmet will do while overseas in Kalos and whether something dangerous enough will happen to warrant him using his body for what it was made for. That might be funny, only two settings and they're "I love macarons :)" and bloodshed.
Anyways hope you guys enjoyed this dump, feel free to ask on anything (it helps me write too ^^). See you later and have a nice day!
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todayisafridaynight · 9 months
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'tumblr i told you to stop sniping my post quality' translation: 80's sequel to this so click for better quality
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anantaru · 2 months
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— comforting you on a bad day
including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader
genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort
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— scaramouche
scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.
easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.
scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.
he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.
however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.
hopefully you do.
"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?
troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.
his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.
scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.
you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.
for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.
the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.
scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.
"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."
you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.
strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.
"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."
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— wriothesley
you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.
you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.
as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.
as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.
in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.
yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.
"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.
wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.
"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.
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— alhaitham
alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.
instead, he just listens to you.
you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.
he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.
"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.
although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.
his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood. 
"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"
shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.
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— childe
childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.
it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.
naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.
you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.
for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.
the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.
he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.
it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.
"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.
your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.
childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"
"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.
it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.
ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
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vroomvroomwee · 8 months
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Aziraphale's vest
I'd like to take a second and talk about his vest because I think it's a really good metaphor for Aziraphale's internal feelings.
At first glance it's obvious the vest is quite old. Really old in fact if you note the way it's practically disintegrating.
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And it got me thinking a bit. The way the white practically bleeds from the edges of the neck, shoulders and buttons, going further and further, one day if he's persistent enough to wear it, it might even take over the entire vest. You could say that that, somehow, mirrors Heavens influence over Aziraphale. Slowly, slowly, biding their time, until it has completely ridden him of any colour. Until it has completely washed him of his identity, of his originality, of his character.
Take a look at his clothing when he's up in Heaven.
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Completely and utterly white. Every piece of clothing he's wearing is pure and untarnished white. Upon entering Heaven, against his own accord, it has stripped him of his uniqueness, of anything that might distinguish him from any other angel who blindly follows orders and who's sole purpose is to do Heavens bidding.
Now, he could miracle the white patches on the vest away easily. But he doesn't want to.
The thing is. He likes the imperfect. He likes partaking in human activities and pleasures, like food, music, etc. Likes to indulge himself in earthly things Heaven would label as sinful or "sullying." And as someone who bas been on the receiving end of Heavens ridicule and passive aggression for millenia, as someone who for centuries has been told that he's underperforming and needs to do better, as someone who is all too aware of his own impurity by the standards an angel should hold and of the quite frankly unholy behaviour in performing immoral temptations and directly going against Heavens orders no more than a few times throughout the eras, it's no wonder he finds comfort in the imperfect.
He keeps the deteriorating edges because they are a perfect representation of his own internal feelings and image. After all, there's no rule that says he can't. And a big kudos to the costume department, for the patches perfectly encapsulate his religious trauma. Without it, he would probably be a very different person. He wouldn't be the same Aziraphale we know and love. The same way he likes being old-fashioned with his clothes and how that is a part of who he is, his trauma is a part of him as well, along with Heavens influence that has shaped him into who he is today, whether he likes it or not.
Every part of the vest illustrates Aziraphale's character and internal feelings, which brings me to another point I want to draw attention to, and that is the BACK of the vest.
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It's DARK. And I don't think I'm mistaken when I say that most of us didn't expect it to look like that from behind. We all just assumed that it would be the same beige colour as the front, which is in tune with the rest of his attire. After all, seeing him wearing a dozen different outfits all throughout history, all of them some shade of white, it was the logical conclusion.
But no.
It's not white. It's a dark, slightly viridian or a dark blue colour. "Dark blue suggests a more mysterious depth or ominous quality. Power and authority: Dark blue signifies power and responsibility. "
Not what we would have expected that colour at all. Similarly to how one wouldn't expect an angel to perform temptations or be gluttonous, or envious, or slothful, or hedonistic. Not at first glance anyway.
Not unless you look carefully.
Not unless you know him.
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The coat almost acts like a cover. The light over the dark. Almost as if it's trying to hide something. The only times we see Aziraphale not wearing the coat is in his bookshop. Which is logical, of course. You wouldn't wear a coat indoors, obviously. Except he DOES. He wears the coat when he and Crowley are drunk, he wears it when he's reading Agnes Nutter, he wears it when Gabriel and Sandalphon pop in, he wears it when he's talking to the Metatron, he wears it when he's listening to Shostakovich, he even wears it at the Ritz where it would be custom to take off your coat while dining. And it's worth noting that during the events happening (at least in the first season), the season is summer. Which would make it quite ridiculous to be wearing so many layers everywhere you go and therefore risk boiling. But he still wears the coat.
The only times he doesn't wear it is in the first episode after the sushi, when he's all ALONE, and in season 2 at the bookshop when Crowley comes back and in 1941.
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And there's something oh so personal about that.
I don't think it's a coincidence that the darker part is specifically the back of the vest. There's always been this natural human instinct to protect yourself by never ever turning your back on a foe. And I don't think this is a conscious effort on Aziraphale's part, but rather genius writing, directing and costume design, and anyone who's watched and read Good Omens knows that almost nothing is coincidental.
Note this is probably the first time Aziraphale has called Crowley his friend, seeing how uncertain and doubtful he was to even say the word in this scene and how quick he was to deny their friendship in the Shakespeare scene. And the camera immediately cuts from Crowley to Aziraphale, who is turned away, whose back is turned to Crowley oh so casually without a care in the world. Just before he calls him his friend. His back is turned, and so is the dark part of his vest.
The dark part he only shows in his bookshop, when he's alone and there's no one there. The part that he now only shows to Crowley as well. Crowley who knows him so well and who's been with him through everything. "I won't tell anyone if you won't." And "you said trust me""and you did". Just this small motion of Aziraphale depicts exactly how much trust he has in Crowley not only that he'll keep him safe and protected but to accept him just as he is, to not judge him, to not demean him for his imperfections as an angel. Practically mirroring Crowley's self-protection mechanism that is reflected in his motions to hide his eyes with his sunglasses (there's a wonderful meta on this by @simply-brightly-zee here )
And it might just be clothing, or it might just be genius symbolism, but note how self-aware Aziraphale is of his looks when Gabriel pops up.
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The desire to impress is almost unconscious in this scene, and how does he go about doing it? By making sure he looks presentable. Presentable, despite the white patches and the vest that is falling apart, he doesn't even realise it. Therefore, it's clear Aziraphale puts thought into his clothes, whether consciously or unconsciously.
I personally dont think any of this (the coat, the patches, the way he turns his back, when, where and around who he's most comfortable) is a deliberate and intentional act on Aziraphales part but rather creative brilliance from the directors and producers. So him being shown to expose the back of the vest only in scenes with Crowley (and the one in s2 infront of an amnesiac Gabriel with the intelligence and awareness of a squirrel) is a master move on the costume department's part. The symbolusm being so small and imperceptible, but holding so much meaning. This small metaphor shows how much Aziraphale trusts Crowley and how comfortable he is around him. Crowley who knows about Aziraphale's transgressions, sins, unholy behaviours, lack of interest and dedication to his job, and overall "incompetence" as Aziraphale might put it and how he's "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing". Crowley, who will accept him and love him no matter what. Not despite those things, but because of those things.
They have found their "own side".
Edit: Not that important, but I just want to mention how, despite being tattered and falling apart, the vest is still in perfectly good condition. No matter the white seeping in and draining its colour, the vest doesn't have a single seam torn, not a button lost, perfect as the day it was bought. No matter what it's been put through, it's still kicking, whether by miracle or sheer willpower. Very much like the person wearing it.
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tuhtofu · 10 months
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photograph
cw: dom reader, sub childe, masturbation, face slapping, nipple play, degradation, masochism, dacryphilia, coming in pants, coming untouched, gn reader, childe is a pervert
wc: 1.2k
Summary: Your virgin, touch starved comrade finally gets some action.
The rivalry between you and Childe has somewhat turned into companionship. Everywhere you go, you’ll find him lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to cause a little trouble.
It’s not like you mind. In fact, it brings a tinge of thrill to your travels. You always end up sparring, pushing each other to the limit as you explore Childe’s tactics and weak spots. Once in a while, you like to explore one another’s weak spots a bit further.
At first, Childe thought you hated him. It didn’t do much to hinder his advances, because your passion for fighting was delightful. Holding back was never an option for you, and he loved it… A lot.
Enough to find himself in front of the mirror after every fight of yours, admiring the cuts and bruises formed by your hands. That was more than enough for him to fall to his knees, pressing on those spots and hissing in pain, thinking about the way you looked when you placed them on him until small beads of precum would make their appearance on his underwear.
He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s found himself in front of his laptop, biting his shirt and drooling on it while fisting his aching cock to whatever porn video he could find where the actor’s looks resembled yours even slightly.
Sometimes, he’d fall into a rabbit hole of S&M videos, unable to stop touching himself until he was hyperventilating from overstimulation, his whole room reeking of his smell, body covered in sticky cum and sweat. He wanted you to use him so badly.
Childe would become increasingly more obvious with his attraction towards you, towards your strength and the pain you inflicted on him. Grunts became louder, his legs would become shaky, and he’d even slip in quiet whimpers when you taunted him. 
His swings would become clumsy for only a moment while his eyes zeroed in on your body, cheeks ruddy as he observed the way your muscles flexed and the teasing look in your eye, so determined to take him down. Fuck, when will you just force him to his knees and have your way with him?!
That instant of gawking was more than enough for you to trip him to the ground, the feeling of your sharp blade pricking the underside of his jaw just enough to draw a drop of blood, snapping him out of his trance.
“You’re pretty sloppy today, Childe. I’m disappointed.”
“You can’t expect me to always be in top condition. I have yet to recover from how rough you went on me last time,” he chuckled, chest heaving as he panted loudly.
“Right. I’ll believe that when you start wearing a pair of pants that’ll actually cover your erection.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s not because of you.”
You inched closer, before stomping on his wrist with your foot, and Childe cried out at the sheer force of it.
“Don’t lie. The last thing a masochistic slut like you should pretend to have is pride,” you scoffed.
Oh, he knows. He just wants to savor the sight of you, looking down at him from above like this and mocking him.
“H-help me then. Hurt me, please–” Childe replied shakily in an attempt to entice you.
You’d be lying if you said that taking the chance to play with your sparring buddy like this was something you hadn’t imagined before.
That sitting on his stomach, ripping his shirt apart and toying with his body wasn’t in your list of fantasies. He was already arching up into you, trying to feel more of your weight on top of him.
Your hands cupped his cheek, almost surprising him with your gentle touch, before it left him abruptly, returning as a harsh smack to his face. A grin formed on your face, and you didn’t stop, alternating between his cheeks until they turned red, marked with your handprints. 
He could probably escape if he tried, but why would he? You were touching him, and after all the nights he spent thinking about you, desperate to feel you in any sort of way, what you do to him doesn’t matter.
The only sounds Childe was able to let out were wails of pleasure, as his body squirmed and arched further into you. He finally spoke after you slowed down, allowing him to catch his breath. His eyes were teary, looking up into your own with nothing but lust.
“S-shit! That’s so good!”
You smiled mischievously, letting your fingertips dance across his neck and grazing it with your nails. That gentle touch of yours, paired with the stinging on his face, was like heaven to Childe. His cock was already throbbing within its confines, just as needy as him… just as pathetic as him.
“I can feel you poking me from behind. I hope you don’t think I’d ever touch that disgusting thing.”
A retort was sitting right at the tip of his tongue, trying so hard to save a fragment of his dignity, but there was no way he could oppose you. Especially not when he felt his tip drool because of those very insults.
Naturally, your next stop would be his chest, cupping and fondling it the way one would a woman. He could’ve sworn that you had at some point even teased him about it, referring to them as tits. Or maybe he had just imagined it when he was–
“Fuck! Why!” he yelped, yet his hips betrayed his words, bucking into thin air at the feeling of your fingers pinching his nipples, before gently circling his areolas.
You ignored him, continuing your attacks on his chest by flicking and pulling on each nipple while your other hand moved to his neck, ripping a shaky sigh out of Childe as you squeezed it.
“What’s the point of all our training, if you’re gonna turn into a drooling, good for nothing mess the moment someone touches you like this? What if a group of samurai attacked you? Would you squirm like a little girl and let them use you too?”
Your ridiculing wouldn’t cease, but Childe could only moan in bliss, the image you inserted into his head making his eyes roll back. The grip around his neck was tight enough to leave bruises, and he was sweating profusely, hands trying, albeit in vain, to claw themselves into the floor for any sort of support.
“M-more! Please, it’s too much!”
He couldn’t think anymore. There was no point. His cheeks were already stained with tears, his hips jumping uncontrollably as he cried out in pleasure, ropey streaks of cum spilling into his pants.
Even after you let go of him, his body wouldn’t stop twitching. He was in a haze, only snapping out of it when he felt your nails digging into his cheeks as you grabbed his jaw forcefully.
“We didn’t agree on letting you cum, did we? Yet you came in your pants like a teenage boy,” you spat.
“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”
“Looks like you’ll have to make it up to me, then.”
Why was this motherfucker grinning?!
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monamipencil · 12 days
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— jealousy, jealousy | k.mg
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“want me to fuck you loudly so that she could hear it?” 
synopsis; a trip to the convenience store with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn.
pairings; mingyu x fem! reader | genre; slight angst, smut, established relationship | w.c; 800+ | warnings; mentions of food, marking kink, possessiveness, exhibitionism, fingering, overuse of 'baby', slight dry humping, orgasm denial (f. receiving), a mention of punishment. | a/n; yea.. my old blog was deleted and im reposting.. dont mind me.
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you’re jealous. quite jealous. 
The taste of iron greets your tongue when you lick your lips. The bruise he had given you. You lift your hand involuntarily to touch the blooms of hickeys that sit on your neck, discreetly covered by your boyfriend’s hoodie. He marked you up in all ways. For everyone to see. to know. That you’re his. But him? 
Your eyes reluctantly dart towards mingyu and the part-timer, who is clearly hitting on him. You can’t help but roll your eyes and scoff. The annoying knot in your stomach tightens when you hear him laugh at whatever stupid joke she just made. You resort to picking on your nails, trying to drown out everything. 
But you know you have to address this someday. And it might be today. Address the fact that your boyfriend will never be just yours. Your heart uncomfortably twists at that. It was indeed true. 
Mingyu is an eye candy. The heartstopper. No matter where you go, the limelight will always be on him. Good looks, personality, intelligence. He’s got the whole pack. It’s as if God took his sweet time sculpting his heart, mind, and body.  
“Hey, baby,” you flinch at the sound of his voice and sigh, placing a hand over your heart. mingyu eyes you in confusion, and with a small smile on his lips, he apologizes for scaring you. Sending a half-hearted nod his way, you bring the food closer to your side. 
It was your idea. To go to the nearby convenience store to get food after an intense love-making session that left you tired and hungry. You didn’t accept his offer to cook, knowing that he was tired too. But frankly, you lost your appetite. You toy with your food, drawing shapes in the sauce. 
With a loud sigh, you stand, muttering to him that you want to buy something. He nods and tries his best to reply with his ramen-filled mouth. You groan as soon as you’re out of his sight. A part of you knows it’s not his fault. And the other part reasons that he should know how it would feel since he, himself is the possessive type. 
You take something random from the aisle after a moment of consideration and turn to return to the table when a hand roughly pulls your hips back. You gasp, hearing mingyu’s hushed voice, “want me to fuck you loudly so that she could hear it?” 
You bite your lip, swallowing the moan that the lewd thought elicited in you. His fingers dig into the exposed skin of your thigh, and he grinds his clothed crotch against your hip. You let out small gasps and bated breaths as he continues to grind himself harder. Your (his) hoodie is unzipped halfway to expose your neck, which he marks yet again. 
“I’m yours, baby. don’t you know that? hmm? I can prove it.” he whispers, his hands slipping into your panties. His other hand keeps your mouth open, and a moan escapes your lips. The cool wind hitting your skin makes you shiver, and him toying with your clit adds to it. 
“mingyu,” you mewl out his name, your hips grind onto his fingers, chasing friction. 
“God, you’re so wet. And we just fucked a hour ago.” 
He pushes two fingers into your soaking cunt, pushing them in and out at a comfortable pace. mingyu stops his ministrations and curls his fingers against that spot. It forces you to gasp and tug at his hair. He removes his hand from your mouth, and the saliva-coated fingers find your nipple under your shirt. 
Your body hasn’t yet recovered from the previous carnal venture. Every touch has you seeing stars, and you can feel the orgasm ripping through already. But it stops when he removes his hands from your needy core. “Not here. Can’t have my baby walking with wet shorts back home,” he laughs at your needy figure and kisses your strained neck muscles. 
Mingyu holds you against him till you come down from your high. His hands massage your body, and he softly whispers that he’s only yours. It brings a smile to your face, and all ugly feelings are thrown out the window. 
“I love you, baby,” he whispers against your cheeks with a love-sick look in his eyes. You chuckle and whisper the same back to him. Reaching to hold his face, you lean in, but you’re cut off by the part-timer. 
Annoyance runs through your veins, but you’re satisfied to find her shocked state at your intimate position with mingyu. You press a kiss to his lips, eyes still on her. A cocky smile plays on your lips, and your heart feels light when you pull back. Mingyu shakes his head when you shoot him a sickeningly-sweet smile and laughs, playing into your game. 
You pack the food, not wanting to waste the money, and leave the store. But not before you flaunt the love bites gifted by your boyfriend. All exhaustion seems to have left you as you happily skip in the street. He skips along with you, blushing and laughing at the scandalising act you both pulled. You let him do so while he can. And your boyfriend links hands with you, oblivious to the punishment awaiting him. 
a reblog?
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tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia
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smuttysabina · 4 months
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"I am" a Bitch
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(Rei x Male Reader, 3.3k Words) Tags: Pretty Little Risky Baddie, What A Brat, Wow She Is So Spoiled, I Sure Hope She Doesn't Get Her Butt Stretched Out, Anal Sex, Brat Taming, Lots Of Complaining, Rough Sex, Too Much Teasing, Chaebol Obliteration
Rei is a spoiled brat. Like most of IVE, she had been pampered until her pretentiousness had swollen to absurd heights; her every whim was to be fulfilled without worry of the consequences. She fully expected that her demands would be followed, especially those pertaining to the bedroom. Though Rei was not the worst of the bunch, her sexual appetites were still incredibly skewed in her favor; the pleasure of her partner was very much so beneath her notice. So she was rather unforgiving when her "lover" failed to satisfy her obnoxious orders, but not in an enjoyable way. Perhaps you should have known better, but truly, who could blame you for dumping the fattest load of your life balls-deep inside of Rae's precious asshole?
You had mostly known what you were getting into when you applied to work for IVE, every Kpop group had its own distinct quirks regarding the hired help. Itzy were renowned for their rapacity when dealing with the "interns", and their older sisters of Twice were famous for their fetishistic forced-breeding schedules. Le Sserafim were a popular choice, mostly due to their extremely laid-back and open attitude towards sex. Positions at Blackpink were the most sought after of course, though they remained permanently open, their turnover rate was less than a week. And IVE... well IVE were notorious for treating their employees like utter garbage. Which was hardly unusual if truth be told, except for the fact that this mindset extended to include most of the staff, not just the sex pets. It was by unwritten agreement amongst idols that the more integral staff members were to be left unravished; after all, it is difficult for a music company to function when their song writers are too busy pumping the idols full of cum all day to write anything. Most importantly however, the cleaning staff were to be left entirely unmolested; if not for those brave souls, the number of injuries caused by slipping in puddles of sex-fluids would skyrocket. Even that insatiable goddess Jennie, who would fuck almost anything with a pulse, would greet the janitors with a bemused smile before continuing to drain whatever meat-dildo she was currently sending to heaven.
Unfortunately, IVE had no such distinctions; if Gaeul wanted to have the producers lick her pussy all day, then that's what they did. It was a dark miracle that the group managed to continue putting out comebacks, let alone the sort that would be astoundingly popular. So to say that the atmosphere at the IVE mansion was a bit stressful would be an understatement. But all of that negativity was on the back of your mind when you showed up for orientation at the mansion; your adoration for IVE drowning out any concerns you may have felt reading up about them. Led through a tastelessly expensive entry hall, you and many other new hires were ushered into a drab side-room for your training. After only a perfunctory introduction though, you were seamlessly sorted into being an assistant for one of the girls; and sent on your way. You are directed to a large, stately bedroom, its footprint greater than most people's entire homes, its door embossed with its owner's name. The debris of an artist occupies an entire corner of the vast room, painting materials stashed haphazardly alongside expensive electronic drawing devices. The bathroom fills the rest of that half of the room, an opaque wall covering what looks to be a standing shower as well as a sizable hot tub. The sleeping area is conjoined with the living area, cluttered with clothes, books, and entertainment devices; with an enormous television planted in front of a deep couch. The bed is sturdy, dowered with an expensive mattress and covered with an eclectic collection of blankets; and laying upon it is the owner of this gilded cage: Rei.
The idol rests upon her stomach, delicate feet kicking in the air above her head, perusing her phone with every appearance of absolute boredom. She gives you unhappy glare as you approach, her heavily-lidded eyes showing you nothing but contempt as she takes in the details. Rei lets out a petulant sigh, "So you're my new assistant huh, why do I never get the cute ones? Whatever, drop your pants, let's see what we're working with here." You hesitate at this bizarre and sudden demand, only complying after she irritable motions for you to proceed, "Hmmph, I guess you'll do, at least you don't have a needle dick. Please tell me you aren't one of those premature guys, I swear most boys have zero endurance. What? Put that thing away, I'm tired of looking at it already!" Blushing furiously from Rei's barbs, you haul your pants back up and wait for further instructions. After several minutes of pointedly ignoring you, she finally deigns to glance back up in exasperation, "Well don't just stand there idiot, do something useful like... cleaning or something? This place is a mess!" Which, to be fair, it absolutely was. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly, towers of empty food cartons were everywhere, all manner of trash was scattered about, and sticky stains on the carpet were more common than clean portions.
So you get to work, while Rei lounges about on her bed, yelling dubious advice and shrill instructions at you while you labor. Her phone either blares annoying videos, except when she is video-chatting with her fellow idols; in which case she yammers away just as loudly as the bitches getting railed in the call. And of course, she masturbates constantly, her fingers squelching away beneath her sweatpants as she watches her friends engaging in all sorts of sexual activities. That or porn; and if you are honest with yourself it's difficult to tell the difference between the two. Not that Rei takes kindly to be watched during her "Private Time", nor the fact that the sight and scent of her pleasuring herself has an arousing effect on your own genitals, "You fucking pervert, stop watching me! Ugh what kind of assistant are you? And are you getting hard again? Stop that! I didn't say you could get horny, so stop looking and keep cleaning!" An attitude which was annoying in the extreme, especially since it was a touch difficult to bend over with a hardon bulging out of your pants. Your irritation only grows as Rei continues to rain abuse on you for doing what you're told, particularly when she went into hysterics when you got around to picking up and sorting the massive pile of underwear heaped against a dresser. You are starting to see why IVE had be having trouble retaining their staff...
After several grueling hours of labor, you finally finished restoring order to at least one portion of Rei's expansive living area; and so lay down to take a break on a couch. Not five minutes had passed before you were being poked awake by Rei, scowling down at you with her hands on her hips. Who haughtily announces that she was going to take a bath, and that she required assistance; now. You groan before hauling yourself after the idol to the bathroom section, where you are stunned to find her stripping carelessly in front of you. You stare at Rei in shock, your foul mood entirely dispelled by the magnificent sight before your eyes; she merely sniffs as you gaze at her. Her surprisingly moderate bust perks boldly outward, the soft curve of her hips descending towards a deliciously full ass, her lithe legs supported by her delicate feet. Now this made her earlier abuse almost worthwhile, surely such a goddess could be allowed a few flaws? Surely it was her due to be given such slavish attention, surely you had deserved such ill-treatment for not paying proper homage to Rei? The illusion of divinity is shattered however, when Rei responds to your adoration with scorn, "Ew, could you not look at me like that, it's weird. Also, get naked already, didn't I tell you to listen you moron?"
So you gingerly remove your clothes, wincing as you strain your sore muscles, and by the time you are finished Rei is already standing in the luxurious hot tub. With her hands on her hips, she gives you an exasperated look, and you scramble up into the bath to avoid another irritating tongue-lashing. You sit down with a sigh, decompressing in the soothing warm waters, water-jets massaging your aching back in a most pleasant fashion. Your momentary calm is cracked somewhat when Rei proceeds to plop down into your lap, her ample bottom squishing up against your groin as she reclines against you. You are rendered speechless by her sudden intimacy, and surprisingly, she is just as quiet. Rei seems content to use you as furniture as she relaxes, and in this moment of tranquility you take in your surroundings in more detail. A sprawling plethora of bottles precariously perch on the further edge of the hot tub, while the rim to your right is taken up entirely with sexual accessories. The bathroom area itself was relatively clean, but clutter was gradually overrunning every available surface; most noticeable was the trash can overflowing with condom wrappers, Rei was obviously a healthy girl...
Rei starts slightly as you harden, but otherwise seems content to ignore the fact that your cock is currently digging into her butt. She wriggles a little to reposition, then relaxes once more, until eventually she sighs and stands up out of the water. She glances back at you, "Your size?" Rei asks as she reaches towards the boxes of condoms. Nodding at your answer, she pulls out a string of them and tosses them at you before ordering you to close your eyes as she fiddles with some sort of tube. You hear Rei let out a soft curse, "Ugh, it's so cold..." then water churns and she grumbles at you, "Well, put it on already!" You open your eyes to find her scowling down at you, and you hurriedly hoist our crotch out of the water so you can slip a condom onto it. You reach towards Rei, only for her to slap your hands away, "Hey! No, sit back down! And don't you dare move, I hate it when guys act like they're not just dildos." With that out of the way, and giving you one final glare in warning, she turns around and lowers herself once more onto your crotch. But this time the burning heat of the water is replaced by the much more subdued warmth of Rei's insides, as she slowly slides your length into herself. Her plump ass squirms as she settles into her new perch, and she is soon gently rocking back and forth in your lap while her hands are busy between her thighs. Her pink hair tickles your face as she grinds on your bulging cock, teasing it endlessly as she pleasures herself. Rei's entire weight is pressed onto your cock as she lifts her legs, the roiling water supporting her as she precisely orients her body to force you as deep as possible. Then Rei lets out a sudden squeak, and she quivers against you, her hole clenching tight around your now painfully erect member.
Rei shudders, her asshole palpitating as she relaxes back against your chest, breathing heavily as she eases her weight off of your manhood. After resting against you for about a minute or so, oblivious to your cock as it throbs inside of her, she pushes herself up off of you in a cascade of water. You get a faceful of ass, and as she bends forward her slightly gaping brown anus is revealed, glistening wetly and flushed from use. Rei notices you staring and quickly turns around, covering herself as she does, "What, it's not like I would let you fuck my unused pussy, I'm saving it for my beloved!" You highly doubt that Rei's cunt had gone unstretched during her stint as a trainee, but you are far more focused on the fact that you had not been able to finish. The bratty idol gives you a confused look as she notices your demeanor, "Oh, did you not cum...? Feel free to jack off into the condom or something, just don't make a mess!" Humming cheerfully, she clambers out of the hot tub and is soon ensconced in an oversized fluffy towel; whereupon she putters off towards the living area, dripping water everywhere. Grumbling, and still staggeringly erect, you dry yourself off before following her, finding Rei sprawled on her couch flicking through channels. Not even deigning to glance at you, she reminds you to clean up all the water you got on the floor walking over there. Rolling your eyes you obey, though not without complaining under your breath, by the time you finished up and returned to your spoiled mistress she has already switched to watching porn. Loud moans and squeals blare from the enormous television as some woman is getting absolutely railed on screen. Rei is already masturbating shamelessly upon her discarded towel, her dark nipples starkly erect.
The idol glances over as you approach and nods in satisfaction as she notices that your dick is still hard, she scrambles around so that her plump posterior is pointed right at you, "Grab a condom, but follow my orders exactly, okay? My butt is very delicate." Sheathed once more in latex supplied from an ever-present condom box, you gently grasp her hips, "Okay, so put a lot of lube in, gently, then slowly ease your dick in, got it?" Instructions which you ignore entirely, as you simply shove your cock directly into Rei's vulnerable asshole. Whose back arches up as she shrieks in surprise, wailing as if she had just been poleaxed. The bitch was obviously exaggerating however, your dick had slid smoothly inside of her, only catching a little at the entrance, evidently Rei had squirted so much lube inside of herself earlier that she still had loads of it coating her insides. Not that she sees it that way, "YOU DUMB FUCK! TAKE IT OUT TAKE IT OUT!" she howls, clawing at the couch for support as her legs shudder. But you are done taking orders from this entitled brat, and pull back, dragging a solid inch of her insides along with you, Rei barely has time to gasp out "Oh thank-" before you slam your entire length back into her guts. This time she is only able to let out an outraged gasp, unable to comprehend how a lowly fan like you could possibly disobey a chaebol of IVE.
Of course, most other idols would not have stood for such treatment either, Yeji would have been clawing your back into bloody ribbons, Rose would have been beating you mercilessly, Jihyo would have pinned you down and firmly forced you inside the proper hole, Dami would have had you biting the couch as she pummeled you with a gargantuan strapon. Instead, Rei, scion of a renowned idol training program, promptly bursts into noisy tears. Normally a girl sobbing would have given you pause, and caused you to rush to give her comfort, but this bitch had been abusing you for hours now, and it seemed a bit of an overreaction; so you continue. Rei blubbers as loudly as the girl on screen, bemoaning her fate and tepidly demanding that you listen to her. But by now you were getting into the swing of things, and to be completely honest her asshole was practically sucking you inside after every thrust. Her thick ass-cheeks clap loudly as you slam yourself against them again and again, providing a meaty cushion that was almost begging for a thoroughly rough plowing. So you give it to them, violently pistoning your cock into her guts, causing her to squeak plaintively and writhe in your grasp as you firmly hold her steady. Then Rei starts to shake, her ass shivering in a familiar way, you don't stop moving though, even when she suddenly starts to scream shrilly, spittle flying onto the couch.
Something hot and wet slops onto your balls, sticking tight to it and smearing deep into its folds. Surprised, you pull out, leaving Rei's asshole gaping enough to show pink and sputtering foully, and beneath that, a shaven pussy absolutely slathered with cunt cream, connected her sex to yours with glistening streamers. She whines in embarrassment, looking back at you in disbelief at the mess she had made, her squeezable cheeks flushing bright red. Before Rei could make any excuses however you had crammed your cock back into her sloppy ass, causing her to groan and bite the fabric. A glow with satisfaction with yourself, you fall back into your rough rhythm, plowing away with enough force to make her ass-cheeks jiggle with every thrust. The steady slap of skin fills the room as you relentlessly fuck Rei, drowning out the depravities taking place on the TV, (by this point the woman appeared to be taking four cocks at once). But Rei wasn't an idol for nothing, and even after such ungentle treatment her butt still devoured your manhood voraciously; squeezing it tightly without any sign of tiring. Your tip grows warmer as you continue to pound away at her hole, it even starts to feel a bit wet within the rubber. The added stimulation is enough to make your heartily sore balls finally start to pulse, and you feel pleasure emanating from the base of your cock, urging you to go deeper. Groaning loudly, you haul Rei back as hard as you can, squishing against her butt with all your might as you climax spectacularly, filling your condom with thick reams of semen. Rei moans in sympathy, but a note of confusion turns her sweet tones shrill, "Oh fuck yes- WAIT. Wait you idiot you're fucking cumming in me! Oh fuck there's so much! Pull out fuckwit, pull out!" Startled by the sudden vehemence in her voice, you abruptly pull out of her, her unplugged asshole sloppily burping your seed out into the creamy filth already coating her sex. Now that it is exposed, you are able to clearly see the issue, your sex had been so violent it had torn the condom open, allowing your cum to surge into Rei's unprotected asshole; who is not taking it well.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck! It's so slimy and gross! I fucking hate cum! How fucking dare you cum in me! Ugh I feel like I'm going to puke!" she staggers upright, scowling furiously at you as she stumbles towards the bathroom. She points angrily at her door, "Out! Get the fuck out!" she screams, pulling herself onto the toilet and squatting upon it like a gargoyle. You quickly dress under her glare, as she starts to shit the vast amount of semen you had pumped into her. Once out the door, you report to the staff member, who seems unsurprised to discover that she had kicked you out of her room. They instruct you to return tomorrow, apparently the assistants were quietly cycled between the girls until they caught on and demanded their removal permanently. You are utterly shocked the next day then when you are once more ordered to wait upon Rei. Led to her familiar door, you find the brat hunched in front of a tablet, morosely jotting upon it with a stylus. She grunts as she sees you, frowning unhappily, rolling the stylus nimbly through her fingers as she ponders something deeply. Finally though she sighs, and demands that you strip once more. You nervously comply, worried about what sort of depraved revenge Rei has in store for you. But instead she simply stalks over to her bed, casting off her clothes as she goes, whereupon she bends over, looking back at you with annoyed trepidation.
"Well, what are you waiting for, idiot? You had better not break your condom this time! Oh and- um," Rei blushes in embarrassment, seemingly mortified that she has to say this, "please be rough again..."
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toruslvt · 13 days
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ִֶָ yours to keep ↪ part three of mafia boss sukuna.
⋆ fluff ‹3, mention of pregnancy symptoms, reader has hyperemesis gravidarum ( heavy morning sickness, dehydration and dizziness ). this part is basically a collection of pieces ( drabbles ) from Sukuna and reader’s relationship. i can't possibly write a long fic sjdhhdh help.
I'm considering finishing the au here 🙆‍♀️ but do let me know in the comments if you think Sukuna is girl or boy's dad ^^
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saying your first encounter was a coincidence is a fact, saying the ones that came after were under the same circumstances, it's nothing but a lie.
the gifts didn’t stop, nor the secret rendezvous with Sukuna’s bribing either the employees or bosses of each establishment you went to, although the man was more than eager to show off the world you’re with him now, he had to be cautious in case your daddy wished to stir some drama and forbid you to meet up with the pink haired. to Sukuna, your only daddy should be himself.
the bouquets of multiple flowers remained the same, —although most were yellow pansies. but a fresh set was always placed on your bedside table, still holding tightly onto Sukuna’s scent in each petal.
I’ll send a driver for you.
is what Sukuna had texted you that day, and in other situations you could have been thrilled, jumping around to find a suiting outfit for the occasion, although most of them ended up on his bedroom floor.
not today, i’m not feeling well.
you replied, and perhaps, you actually believed you’ll have a free day, well, for Sukuna that was text read as “please come and heal me”
I’m outside.
luckily your father was barely at home, so sneaking out was not an issue, only greeted by your bodyguard’s subtle nod, knowing better than to mess with your no-yet-boyfriend.
“what’s wrong, princess?” is the first thing Sukuna asks, a worried look on his face, one that no one besides you have seen on his usual cold facade, although his voice and hands are warm, gently tilting your chin to meet the red of his irises. “shall I call a doctor?” he suggests, arm around your waist to guide you into the black tinted car.
you shake your head, propping it on Sukuna’s broad shoulder, “it’s fine, probably something I ate” you mumble, eyelashes fluttering close at the sensation of your lover’s hand sliding down your back and settling on your belly, followed by a kiss on your forehead, “will feel better soon”
the car’s movements are enough to lull you to sleep, briefly hearing Sukuna humming against your hair, not quite content with that reply, but it will do for now.
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A rebellion or loss of a very fruitful drug selling zone in the city could have made Sukuna worry, or at least that’s what his guards could have said, although none of those have happened and neither have any of his men seen the pink haired in such distress, pacing around the large, luxury filled room while his trust worthy doctor checked on you.
why did you lie? why did you say you’ll feel better when you haven’t? but he can’t get mad at you, not when you look so fragile and soft, laying under his expensive silk sheets.
“Sukuna, please stop, I told you i’m fine!” you half chuckle, heart warming at the sight of him all worried, head snapping back to meet your gaze with a scowl.
“you are not fine,” he huffs, sliding a hand through his face and slicking his hair back in a nervous manner you’ve come to notice. then a second later he’s crawling next to you, holding your hand tightly, shifting between you and the doctor drawing a bit of blood from your stretched out arm, by the look in his eyes you knew he was about to snap and tell the doctor to hurry up.
“it’s just a little dizziness,” you shrug.
and he groans, “...be quiet”
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“when do you want to get married?”
you gasp, muffled words due to Sukuna’s arms around your head, keeping you against his half buttoned black shirt covered chest, “what?”
a low rumble under your cheek proves Sukuna laughed, deep and melodic, “you’re carrying my babies, of course you’ll marry me” he murmurs, more than a suggestion is a fact, one that you’re not truly against. as soon as the results were in, your now self called fiance sported the widest grin you’ve ever seen, a spark that wasn’t there before shining brightly on those eyes you’ve come to adore, “unless you don’t want to...” he trails off, mockingly hurt.
“i do...” you mumble back, gripping on the back of his shirt, “it’s just that... it won’t be easy” of course it won’t, not with your dad.
during the time you’ve met Sukuna, one thing was always permanent, and it was that cocky, self confident smirk of his, plastered on his face even though the situation didn’t require, it didn’t falter in the slightest, not even at the sight of your father grabbing a very expensive vase and tossing it in Sukuna’s direction, luckily the pink haired man easily dodged it, and the sound of broken ceramic echoed in the back.
“dad!” you yelp, placing yourself between your lover and your progenitor, “stop it!”
truly you knew it was a terrible idea, the suggestion of talking with your father on your own was not even considered by the pink haired, barely a week after your pregnancy discovery and he was more than eager to share the news, diamond ring shining on your finger, one that Sukuna promised to replace by a real engagement ring after settling things up, he, of course, didn’t mention the fact that said ring was hidden at the back of his closet.
“anyone! it could have been anyone in the world but you chose him?” your father yells, hurt dripping from his voice with a short stumble back, “what did I do to deserve this?”
you really considered that him and Sukuna would be wonderful friends, considering their love to exaggerate and play the victim’s role. “and he even got you pregnant!” he sobs loudly, face hidden behind his ring covered hands.
a quiet huff can be heard from your back, where your boyfriend stands.
“i love her,” Sukuna speaks, not before rising his brow and eyes rolling at the pointed look you gave him, “this doesn’t mean we’ll make peace, but I love your daughter, and i’ll marry her whether you like it or not.”
wondering what were the odds of two people dying at the same time, in the same spot, due to your father’s face going paler and his men having to hold him back to stop a murder attempt on Sukuna.
much against his good will, his princess deserved to be happy, even if it was with the devil himself.
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Sukuna is not a man to regret his actions, following the ideal of “whatever, it’s done now” although now, his whole resolve is crumbling.
was it really a good idea to get you pregnant? the idea crossed his mind, guilt tugging on his chest as he knelt besides you, gently rubbing your back and holding your hair as you threw up for the fifth time, swallowing the urge to apologize for the nth time, he gently guides you up to wash your teeth and back to bed, his chest working as a pillow under your tired body, barely six weeks in.
“i’m sorry,” he finally speaks, tenderly rubbing your back, helping you ease the ache and nausea that crawled up your throat, “this is my fault” voice filled with concern and rage towards himself.
you barely shake your head, nuzzling on his toned chest, “t’s not your fault” you croak, “i’ll get better soon, just two or three months left”
yet the attempt to calm Sukuna’s racing heart and mind was not enough, the guilt still crawling up his chest and setting in his throat, fighting back the urge to let out a broken sound.
“i love you” he mutters instead, resting his cheek on the top of your head, hand rubbing your waist softly, “my strong, brave angel, after the baby is born i’ll give you the best wedding you could ask for” it’s a soft sigh, “... but we won’t have more babies”
you chuckle, wholeheartedly, weird how watching his beloved go through such discomfort can erase the breeding kink from someone.
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🔖♡ @yuujispinkhair @valleydoli @hyeinwluv85s @sadmonke @ryomance @inzanekillian @emilymikado @r-ryuko09 @ichorstainedskin @tadabzzzbee @acidrefiux
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mondaymelon · 10 months
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— 𝗵𝗶𝘀. ♥
໒꒱ || :feat~ diluc, venti, xiao, abyss!aether x gn!reader ໒꒱ || cw: this wasn't supposed to be yandere... but it morphed into one. (WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE SOFT XIAO AND EVERYTHING... mb) ໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima
⤷ how they make you theirs. ♥
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A heart-shaped box of chocolates and a fresh bouquet of red roses? There's no doubt it's DILUC who's left them on your doorstep.
It's not uncommon for the stoic man to find it difficult to express his emotions... and often, the redhead feels as if you aren't aware of how much he adores you.
Ah, but then again... his affection for you is much more intense than he'd like to admit, so perhaps it's for the better that you remain unaware.
That said, it can't hurt to leave a couple of gifts for you, right? Presents are a thing that are meant to make one happy, and whenever you're happy, so is he. Anything from sweets to flowers, possibly even a handful of jewels or a pendant... leaving them for you is the least he can do to make sure you know how loved you are.
Or perhaps... "love" isn't exactly the suitable word to describe the expanse of emotions he experiences whenever he sees you... after all, how could a mere four letters explain such a feeling that seemed to consume him, devour him whole?
But that aside, if you happen to confront him about the matter, softly thanking him with a faint tint to your cheeks... be careful, he might not be able to hold back his feelings any longer! As soon as you excuse yourself, Diluc mutters into the air, one gloved hand tentatively covering his mouth, his face flushed beyond belief.
"Ah, next time, should I gift you the severed hand of anyone who dares touch what is mine?" ♥
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What should've been just one drink with VENTI has turned to two, to three, to...
It's almost laughable, how the drunken bard has practically attached himself to your arm, clinging to you what seems to be rather loosely - yet the moment you try to weasel out of his grasp, his arms tighten around yours.
You can see by his dazed expression and the way a drunken flush has descended across his face that he's far from sober... and you're quite sure that you aren't better off yourself. Sensing his gaze, you turn as the male begins to speak, his words hopelessly slurred together.
"Hey hey, why do you keep trying to... escape...?" He pouts as he leans closer to you, pressing his face against your arm. "I...I'm not that unbearable, am I?"
"Eh? No... it's just a little hot in here... and you're too close. Back up a bit, would you?"
"Don't wanna." Did he usually act like this, or was his current state just making him all the more clingy? You supposed it didn't really matter, but the room did seem quite warm, especially with how Venti's heat mixed with yours... oh, were you blushing? Was that what it was?
Perhaps that would explain the way there's this odd thumping in your ears... is that your heart's own rhythm? Ah, no, it must just be the alcohol taking its toll.
"Hehe," Venti's voice somehow rings crystal clear amidst your foggy senses. "You're quite cute when you're like this, you know~" Since when had you leaned into his arms? He speaks some more, but his next words are barely heard by your ears:
"It makes me want to lock you up so that only I will be able to lay eyes on you... a beautiful dove that is mine." ♥
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There was something about you that seemed to draw XIAO in, a something that seemed to enrapture him.
And that fact, in and of itself, frustrated him. To feel so attached to something as fleeting as a mortal? Mortals, whose life could be vanquished like one blowing out a candle?
Ah, perhaps "frustrated" wasn't quite the word for it. After all, an angered someone wouldn't monitor your every move, would they? ...But he's doing this for your own good - at least, that's what he tells himself. Humans are fragile, more than anything, so he'll take the matter of your life into his hands and make sure you won't ever get hurt! He's truly being the benevolent adeptus, isn't he?
Oh, but now you seem worried, all of a sudden. You're trembling in his arms, weakly telling him about how you can always feel someone's gaze on you - how you're scared, how you... need him?
Fuck, he can't control the twisted smile that makes its way onto his face. You've admitted it, haven't you? You can't live without him.
And that's exactly what he wants.
To be beside you every waking second, to own your gaze, to own you... yes, he needs you as much as you need him.
As you curl up in his arms, basking in his quiet warmth as you slowly drift into sleep, his voice emits the quietest whispers.
"Don't worry, love. As long as I'm here, you won't ever need to worry about anyone. Your gaze, your attention... it's all mine." ♥
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He had already traveled these lands once, and AETHER's once vibrant world had grown gray... except...
Oh, but then you appeared. An anomaly, but a welcome one nonetheless.
Yes, you were something stunning.
In this dead realm, you were alive. Alive in the way you looked at him and alive in the way your eyes seemed to light up at the sight of him. It's something that starts off small - that is, his feelings for you. For the time being, delightfully innocent. Yet those emotions would only begin to swallow him whole, to consume him, bind him into a pit of no escape.
When had these affections grown so dire?
Perhaps he had merely turned a blind eye. He is well aware of how his heart longs for you, how his mind has grown clouded with nothing but thoughts of you, how he wants you to be his, and his only... ah, but was that truly such a selfish thing to hope for? Surely not. After all, in such a place he resided in - where all would heed to his beck and call... surely he could have you, right?
"My prince, is something wrong? You've been acting distant all morning." You trail after him as he attends to his work, eyes full of concern.
He turns, slowly. "Why are you so hesitant to call me by my name?"
"Oh, but I could never..." You shake your head at the thought.
His eyes narrow as he takes two swift steps forward, grabbing your chin in his hand and forcing it upwards. "Then take it as an order. Say my name."
"...Aether."
It sounds so perfect on your tongue.
"Ah, that's it. Let my name grace your lips, and don't you dare let it go. After all, and I'll make sure of it... You're mine." ♥
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(a/n) boo bitches im back <;33
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morlao · 4 months
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Sisterly advice
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▪︎Luke Castellan x fem!reader
▪︎daughter of Aphrodite
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
You and Luke have always been close. So close, in fact, that newcomers automatically assumed that you were dating. The surprised look on their faces when the older campers told them you weren´t, was according to your siblings hilarious.
It's evening and you're sitting on your bed, your legs crossed, while Silena is braiding your hair.
Of all your half-siblings she is your favourite one. Loving, gentle and kind. She is the perfect definition of a daughter of Aphrodite, as she embodies everything that comes to your mind when you think about love - and you want others to feel the same way. They should also think of her and not your other siblings with their childish plays and cruel rituals of breaking others hearts. Maybe they themselves don´t understand what it means being the child of love.
Silena´s fingers run gently through your hair, parting it and intertwining the individual strands together.
“So… what about Charlie?”
You don't have to see her face to know that a smile flashes across her lips at his name. “What about him?”
“Did he finally ask you out?”
She laughs, trying to pretend that she finds the idea absurd. “We are just friends.”
You turn around and give her a look that expresses your opinion about it all too clearly. Don´t try to fool me, darling. I see what´s going on between the two of you!
Again, Silena laughs, gently turning your head forward again to finish the braid. “Okay, other topic. What about you and Luke?”
You copy her laugh. “What about us? We´re just friends.”
You could feel her rising her eyebrows. “Let me give you some sisterly advice: Just friends don´t look at each other like that.”
“Who did you quote? That sentence is so cliché!”
She laughs, taking a hair tie from your bedside table and wrapping it around your braid. “Well… maybe it is but it totally fits you and Luke.”
You turn around, giving her a skeptical look.
Silena shrugs and sits down beside you. “I mean… have you seen his smile when he looks at you? Also he constantly finds excuses to touch you. He improves your posture in archery, even though you are at least as good at it as he is. And – “ she looks at you triumphantly, “He gives you a kiss on the cheek every time he greets you or says goodbye.”
You feel your cheeks flush and cross your arms, trying to think of a counter argument. “A lot of people do that.”
“Yeah, but you´re the only one where Luke does that. Haven´t you noticed?”
To be honest: no, you haven´t. But now as you think about it in detail... it is true. When Luke greets one of the other girls, he just smiles at them.
“In addition, he immediately drops everything when he sees you”, Silena adds, “Yesterday he left in the middle of training because he saw you walking by and wanted to talk to you. Or on Friday, he was in the middle of a conversation with Chris and you waved at him. And what did he do? Exactly, he immediately jogged over. Also last week…”
“Enough!” You laugh, trying to make her shut up by covering her mouth.
Silena dodges you, laughing as you reach into the void. "He let you draw hearts on his sneakers! He watches the sunset with you! He bought you a bracelet for your birthday! You know, I could go on with this for hours." She steps closer, cupping your cheeks with her hands. “Believe me, sis: He´s in love with you!” Her voice is melodic, angel like even. Loving, gentle and kind.
You feel the heat rising to your cheeks and embarrassed you pulls away and cover your face with your hands. “I´m pretty sure he isn´t! You´re overinterpreting!”
“Nope, I´m a daughter of Aphrodite, I can feel it!”
“So am I! And I don't feel anything!”
Silena grabs her cherry lipstick. “Your reaction makes me think that you like him too!”
Did you like him? You weren´t sure. Of course he meant the world to you, but did you like him more as than a friend? Wouldn´t that be weird kissing him since you know him for so long?
"I'm not sure", you finally manage to say, rolling off your bed and taking a look at the clock. Fortunately, you can at least put the topic off for today. "Oh, damn! Come on, we are already late!”
Silena grabs your hand and leads you outside of cabin 10. It´s already dark and in the distance you can see the flickering flames of the campfire. Most of the campers seem to have already gathered there, their drink in their hands and a smile on their lips as they talk to their siblings and friends.
“Finally!”, one of the Apollo girls greets you.
Chris Rodriguez grins. “Why are the Aphrodite girls always late?”
That is definitely not true! You're not always late. Just most of the times. God, you hate being a cliché.
Luke lifts his head as he hears his brother say “Aphrodite girls”. He spots you and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. Immediately he walks up to you and hugs you, his lips placing a soft kiss on your cheek.
From the corner of your eye you can see Silena rising an eyebrow, as if to say "Well, what did I say?"
“You look amazing”, Luke whispers in your ear, before breaking away from the hug and greeting Silena with a smile. “Charlie is already waiting for you!”, he grins, nodding towards said boy.
Silena giggles, before walking over to him. Gods, it was so obvious that she was head over heels for him.
Luke takes your hand and leads you over to his place next to Chris, where he had already a blanket spread out for the two of you. “Mylady” He pretends to bow.
You can feel your cheeks blush as you sit down. “Thank you so much, Mister!”
Gods, somehow Luke always manages to put a smile on your face. You sit down and stretch out your legs, feeling the comforting heat of the fire.
As Luke takes a seat next to you, you can feel him slide closer, his arm touching yours. Feeling him beside you was comforting, the closest feeling you had to "home".
Luke Castellan. You tilt your head back and look up at the stars as if you expect to see his name engraved up there. You have always liked his name. Luke Castellan. It feels like a secret incantation on your lips.
You can feel his eyes on you. The flickering flames make his face look almost golden. Golden boy. Why didn´t you notice before how handsome he is?
The next song starts and immediately everyone joins in. They lie in each other's arms and rock back and forth, bawling Country roads.
Well, maybe it was just because Silena had told you, but Luke really seems to find exuses for touching you. He leans against you, his arm around your shoulders - even after the song has already ended. You enjoy feeling him so close next to you. The heat he radiates. His soft skin against yours. The realization hits you straight in the face. You had fallen in love with your best friend.
He looks at you and you can't help but smile. Fascinating how beautiful an evening with a campfire could be. For a moment it feels like gods and monsters didn't exist. For a moment everything seems peaceful.
 “Can I talk to you for a second?” You can feel Luke´s warm breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.
Your heart skips a beat. Did he notice the way you looked at him? Did he suspect something? Was Silena wrong? “Sure!”
Your voice sounds more enthusiastic than you feel.
Luke takes your hand and leads you away from the campfire, away from the singing and the laughter of the others.
You look at him, smiling nervously. “Sooo… what is it? Or did you just want to escape singing Knocking on heavens door.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “No, why would I want to miss Drew´s wonderful voice?”
You cringe at the thought of your sister singing louder than everyone else – and on top of that terribly wrong. She doesn't hit a single note.
“No, actually… Y/N…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “Gods, you´re so beautiful.”
It´s not the first time that somebody told you that. In fact, being a daughter of Aphrodite, you had heard it thousands of times already.
Still his words felt special to you. Special because he wasn´t just anybody. Ä
He was Luke. Your best friend Luke. Luke who was always there for you, who comforted you when you had trouble with your family, who managed to make you laugh when you lay in your bed crying your eyes out over something your stepmother had said. Luke who you trusted with all your heart.
“I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go on a picnic tomorrow?” He avoids looking at you.
Why is he so shy about going on a picnic? That's quite strange since you´d done this a few times before. You had even found your very own spot with a fantastic view over the sea. There was nothing more beautiful than watching sunsets while drinking juice and eating biscuits. So why does he seem so insecure?
Luke seems to notice your confusion. “I meant as a date”, he clarifies.
You raise your eyebrow, your heart racing. “Are you asking me out?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment you stood there, perplexed. Why was it so obvious to the others while you had no idea?
"So... what do you say?" Luke looks at you, biting his lip nervously. He seems to assume that you aren't answering because you're looking for a way to reject him as gently as possible.
Quickly you step forward, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you."
"Really?" Immediately he blushes deeply. That must have slipped out.
"Sure, why wouldn't I?" You giggle, taking his hand. "I've known you for years now. You're kind and brave and one of the most caring people I know."
A laugh escapes his lips. "Wow, if I had known that, I would have asked you way earlier." His hand slowly reaches for your cheek.
You hold your breath as he leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. It didn't feel weird at all. The opposite, actually. Seems like sometimes best friends can turn into lovers.
You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Soft kisses become more passionate. His hands run through your hair, slowly brushing loose strands out of your face.
When he pulls away a huge smile creeps across his lips. "I love you, Y/N"
You return his smile, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. "I love you, too."
As you walk back to the campfire holding hands, Silena beams at you. "I told you, Y/N, friends don't look at each other like that."
You shake your head, laughing. "Your advice really is the best."
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madwomansapologist · 4 months
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blossoming alone over you
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Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3
synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.
warnings: it's 31st december. i'm drunk. song "pink on the night" by mitsky for wyll. song "working for the knife" by mitsky for astarion. song "abbey" by mitsky for shadowheart. companions (wyll, astarion, shadowheart) x druid!tav. background cast (karlach, kagha, halsin, lae'zel, gale, cazador). tav is used as a nickname. wyll stuttering. astarion seeing draws of himself because he fucking deserves it. shadowheart falling for a druid that can turn into a wolf.
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Trust betrayed, secrets spread, lies disguised as facts. That's how life works. It gives you hope, then crushes it front of your eyes. It let's you reach your goal, just to rip it out from your bare fingers.
The cruelty of life is the ultimate sign that gods do exist. There must be a higher being watching its puppets pathetic attempts of conquering an unreachable happiness. There are other proofs, but that's the easiest to perceive.
And they were used to it. From the renowed Blade of Frontiers to the pale elf hiding in the shadows: they all knew what to expect from life. Dishonest agreements, stolen hearts, the cold embrace of loss. Life is painful, so they shielded themselves from any harm.
But not you.
At first they assumed you were naive. The things Shadowheart thought to herself when you reached for a hand stuck in a portal; or how easily Astarion deceived you when he thought you were a mind flayer; even Wyll judged you from time to time.
You let your guard down easily. Instead of protecting yourself, you were helping others. Instead of using your teeths and claws to get what you wanted, you preserved nature.
But naive you were not. You may have trusted them too easily, but you weren't blind. You knew when a question was a order, when a joke was a threat, when a smile was just sharp teeth showing.
You discovered what Astarion really was and demanded he wouldn't maim anyone that didn't deserved it. You convinced Wyll that the evil he so wanted to tear apart was a victim. Saw right throught Kagha's distorted teachings, don't matter how alluring they sounded.
To turn a foe into a friend was your instinct, but you were not hesitant to solve problems with violence if it was needed. And sometimes you even got pleasure from it.
Wyll will never forget your face after finding out about Kagua's deal with the shadow druids. You didn't even allowed the party to rest. All your party received from you was an order to clean the ivy from their weapons.
"Shouldn't we focus on freeing Halsin? He must understand Kagha better than us," Wyll pointed. "You're a druid, but that doesn't mean the groove sees you as one of them. But they will hear Halsin."
"She can hear me," you slammed your staff on the ground, giving strength to your certainty. It pulsed with energy, and its glow matched the beat of your heart. "Or she can die. I can grant her mercy, but I won't give her time."
Wyll felt his body getting warmer, Shadowheart's impressed whistle reached his ear. "O-Of course," he cleared his throat. "After you."
"We'll purge some rats," you smirked at him. It didn't feel threatening. "Can I count with your blade?"
"Always," Wyll answered you, staring at your back. He could stare at your back all day. And he meant it.
Seeing that you weren't naive, Astarion came to a conclusion about you. Meanwhile the Blade of Frontiers stopped seeing your benevolent acts as a signs of impulsivity, the pale elf saw them as a mask. Something meant to cover what others should be paying attention to instead.
After all, who would suspect that something is rotten when the scent is sweet?
You're beautiful. Astarion admit it. Your laugh reverberates through the forests, your tiredness calls for aid, your eyes attract and soothe. Beautiful faces can make up for dirty minds, soft words can hide the lack of a heart, pretty acts are easier to see than destructive intentions.
You're just like him. Astarion sees it, clear as the sea. Your delicate smiles and his gaze full of lust are just as fake. Your sweet words and his dirty innuendos are both rehearsed. In need of this party, it's not hard to understand why you two would act to ensure they don't ever leave.
When Shadowheart cures you first, Astarion's invisible reflection occupies your eyes. When Lae'zel attacks monsters aiming at you, he's your shadow. When Gale puts more food on your plate, Astarion can see his smile on your face.
He wouldn't be surprised to find out that you both look the same.
One may say that your corrupt intentions are nothing compared to the good you've already done, but Astarion is not so idealistic. Sin stains your good deeds, he can see it. You depict yourself as someone better than them, better than him, but that's just your depraved plan to survive.
And he can't blame you. It's working perfectly.
Astarion may despise you for being as dirty as himself, but he respects that part of you. He trusts your plans, your combat skill, your magic. You're good on what you do. Screaming instructions to help during fights, discovering hidden passages, trading for better weapons.
You're not a good person, but there's a reason for why you survived this far. You're competent. That Astarion can respect. That's why he's constantly trying to get on your good side. You are smart and strong. Maybe strong enough to rip Cazador apart.
And if you haven't realize that Astarion is putting on an act to win your heart, than the shame is on you for not realizing that you both are the exactly same thing.
But you had to show him how wrong he was.
At midnight you approached his tent with your sketchbook. Astarion thought you wanted a distraction, using your drawings just as an excuse to talk a bit. Gods know he was dying of boredom before you appeared.
"I didn't knew you were so talented, darling," he praised you.
Illuminated by candles, Astarion let his guards down. Instead of just saying the right thing at the time, Astarion was really impressed at your skills.
It must be nice. To be able to create things with your bare hands. Sometimes he cry at the start of a good book. He don't know why, but it must be because he too would like to be making things. Astarion thinks that creating is the ultimate sign that you're alive, instead of just surviving.
Maybe one day he can become a poet.
"I can't help but notice that you have a muse," it was clear someone had attracted your gaze. Maybe a dear friend you miss, or perhaps another competitor for your attention. "Should I worry about being replaced?"
Astarion expect you to flush, but all you did was to get... softer? You seemed to shrivel up.
Your mouth dried up. He doesn't even recognize himself. Astarion don't even remember how he looked like.
"That's you, Astarion," you told him. "And that's a gift. You helped a lot these past months and... All I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful."
It was the first time you saw Astarion in silence. Paper by paper, he admired your drawings. Do they look bad? You've spent a lot of time training to be able to create something worthy of his beauty, but you admit they're not perfect.
Or maybe it isn't the quality. It's the fact that you spend so long drawing him. How many hours did you spend on those sketchs? How many hours did you spend glaring at him from your tent? Does he feel ofended? Invaded?
"That's how you see me?" Astarion whispered.
You barely heard his words.
"Yes, Astarion," you licked your lips. "I know some can be..."
His hand on your thigh stopped the rant you were about to go on. His bloody eyes were sharp. Just like the day you first met him, his dagger against your throat. Astarion looked pleased, but not happy.
As if he discovered being right about something he rather not be.
What you gave him... this is a treasure. So many drawings, so many angles, so many poses. How many centuries has it been since he last saw himself? How many since Astarion forgot his own face? Sometimes he touches his face, trying to picture it, but his imagination isn't good.
You gave him something priceless.
And when something is priceless that people discover how sunk in debt they really are.
"And now you want me to pay you back," his husky voice made shivers went down your spine. His nails scratched lightly your skin, drawing shapes on your thigh. "Don't you?"
You jumped from your spot, getting away from him. You were flushed, but not in a good way. "From where I came from," you breathed in. You sounded offended. "Something that puts you in debt isn't a gift."
As you turned over to go to sleep, you felt that if you didn't say what you really thought you would end up exploding. You know you don't have the right to speak about his life, but that didn't stopped you.
"Cazador made you believe that you have to sell yourself to be worth of anything, but he's wrong. He was wrong since the very start. We'll lacerate that monster for what he did to you. And that I promise you: it won't be fair. Cazador don't deserve fair."
You felt your nails digging the skin of your palms. "That was a gift. Get used to it."
Maybe Astarion was wrong about you. And maybe he was wrong about himself.
Merciful, but not weak. Gentle, but not naive. Pleasing, but not manipulable. You were a walking question mark. Whenever they thought they understood what you were, you proved them wrong. Not impulsive. Not manipulative. Not stupid.
Until they came up with a word that described you too perfectly. A word that didn't need any buts or explanations. One that everyone cognize, but that isn't used often. That don't deserve to be used often.
You're kind.
It's in your nature to be considerate. You help others because you can. No. Wrong. And that's something that Shadowheart still don't really understand: you help others because you can, so therefore you should.
She has only one goal in mind. Shadowheart needs to make to Baldur's Gate with the mysterious artifact in safety, and if she does everything right... maybe her Lady will grant her what she truly want.
But you make Shadowheart forget about all that.
She must be discreet, she did that her whole life, and still Shadowheart finds herself talking about her goddess to you. Her mission depends on her going straight towards Baldur's Gate yet there she's, following you as you try to solve everyone's problems.
Shadowheart didn't even noticed. She didn't made a rational choice to open herself to you. She just did it. Almost as if you were fundamental part of her forgotten past and her heart couldn't do nothing but to trust you.
You impervious into her prayers. Invaded her dreams. Burned your mark inside her mind. Your name feels like honey on her tongue. Like a sweet treat that she can never get enough of.
You tempted her, luring her with your determination and grace, and Shadowheart proved herself sinful once again.
If only you had judged Shadowheart for her loyalty to Lady Shar. Asking her what her favorite flower is. Listening to her opinions. Even when she was nothing but distant and cold, you were sweet. Toothaching sweet.
Shadowheart was hungry. She'd been hungry for her whole life. Starving for something easy. Something raw. Something more than a beautiful concepts. Something real. And how could a starving person ignore a banquet?
She can't. Shadowheart couldn't. But she should've. Damn, she should've.
You're testing her faith. Constantly. Every smile, every vulnerable look, every act of protection. It's like you're trying to compete with Lady Shar for the control over her mind. Sometimes it feels like you're winning.
She was admiring the sky without stars when the wolf came. All it took was a sight to paralyze her. Shadowheart had a mace, but the weapon was useless in her trembling hands.
The giant beast, wool pale from the moonlight, foamy drool dripping from its fangs. In a golden glow that being of darkness transformed into something.
Into you.
"It's just me," you whispered to her, eyes wide with worry and blame. "I didn't... You're safe. You're fine."
She forced herself to unclench her jaw. "Don't tell any of them," Shadowheart hissed as soon as she knew she could speak without stuttering. "Let this fear I have stay as a secret."
"As you wish," was what you said. No questions, no jokes, no provocations.
You went back to rummage through lost boxes and barrels in the ruined village. You had goblin's blood staining your face, but it didn't seen to bother you. "I wish I had a bag of holdings," you murmured to yourself.
Shadowheart was grateful. Either you decided to change the subject to cease her embarrassment or you just were this easily distracted, it still meant something. Her flushed cheeks went unnoticed.
She leafed through some damp books, trying to find something useful. "Embrace loss," she murmured to you. Now your attention was back on her. "We'll never let you have one."
You gasped. "Moon, why is that?"
Shadowheart ignored how breath turned into a difficult task when you used that new nickname.
"Face it, Tav," she called you by the nickname Gale created to you. "You are a compulsive hoarder. I've seen you keep a rotten apple in your pocket."
"I thought it could be useful!"
Shadowheart smiled. She did not even realized she was smiling. "I bet you did."
You have a soft spots for battles you can't possible win, protecting people in need and turning foes into friends. And apparently you are their soft spot.
Part 2!
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if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.
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anadiasmount · 3 months
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hey love! could you write a blurb about jude being mad at you and not talking to you and you make it up to him and he knows he cant stay mad so he forgives you and you cry and hes all like "dont cry bby" something super fluffy
hi hi hi!! here you go lovely! 🤍 i think i would cry the minute he starts ignoring me… 😟💔
| masterlist | jude's masterlist
you rolled your eyes and walked away from jude who scrolled through his phone quietly and undisturbed. he had been ignoring you since last night when you had accidentally forgotten to remind him you had plans. they were made super quick so he was left dumb founded when you were out and instead at home with him.
you texted him prior before you left and you guess he had not read that. jude was being cold, ignoring your hugs or attempts of kisses. last night when you got home all he could do was turn and face the door and didn't even utter a good night. you tried to make his favorite cookies but he looked at them and went to training. he hadn't said a word since the day before.
jude was chatty, sometimes you would lose focus on what he was saying because he went from one story to another in a span of seconds. it began to irritate you when he wasn't speaking, not answering texts, calls, and even questions you asked. he simply felt like a stranger.
you got up early to make him breakfast, even a small snack so he could have it after training. filled his training bag with clean clothes and his extra pair of boots, and his water bottle. he didn't even thank you, walking away and into the taxi to the training center.
it bothered you the entire day how distant and immature he was being. jude was the type to check in, so glancing at your phone every minute that passed also didn't help. he should be able to talk it out instead of acting like a jerk. you cursed at him silently in your head, pinching the bridge of your nose before returning back to your tasks.
on the way back home, you picked up his favorite meal from the grocery store, getting all his favorite snacks and drinks he would eat around the house. you got a deck of cards and a new board game to try out. you wanted to make it up to him, any way possible.
jude continued to ignore you throughout the evening, making you start feel uneasy and guilty for a small mistake you committed. part of you also still felt angry because he would even bother to answer anything or the fact he was in his own world making you feel like an outcast. your eyes burned with tears as you heard him walk upstairs, choking back a sob as all you wanted was to be held by him.
jude upstairs was also beginning to feel he dragged it out to much. a feeling in his chest when he remembered how defeated you looked as he came up to your bedroom. he wanted you to feel like he felt yesterday, but he could see it wasn’t the same for you. jude had to resist the urge to tell you about his day, the thank you’s for making him food and cookies, for going above and beyond all day so he could lay attention to you.
a plastic wrapping caught jude’s eyesight after an hour passed. you still hadn’t come up and he was afraid you wouldn’t because of how he acted. he was overreacting he knew it, but also he felt disappointed and upset at the fact you clearly forgot to tell him about your plans till last minute.
“what the?” jude asked himself as he approached the wrapping. he uncovered it being faced with a cartoon drawing similar to those they did at fair of the two of you. next to it was a small minion holding a small box of box of hershey kisses and a hand written note by you.
ilysm my little minion (jude) 🖤
- y/n 💋
he laughed feeling the guilt in his chest as he stared at the three pieces you got him yesterday while you were out. you always thought of him, like jude always thought about you. he grabbed the three items and headed downstairs where he saw you watching a movie, covered with a knitted blanket and laying on your side.
you yawned slowly drifting in and out of sleep, your body feeling as it sinked into the couch and would never come back up. you listened to jude as he paced around, your heart racing when he began approaching you. you continued to stare out into the tv, tears brimming your eyes again as you felt the need to apologize.
jude sat by your legs, looking directly at you not being able to hold it in any longer, “y/n? don’t cry baby…” jude said gently grabbing your arm and helping you pull yourself up into his arms. you let out struggles of scattered breaths and sobs, holding him tightly against your front and on his lap.
jude ran his hand on your back, soothing your choked sobs and whines. “i’m sorry y/n, i was being immature and a jerk when you didn’t deserve it. you made a mistake and i had no right to push and ignore you like i did,” jude apologized first pulling you back so he could wipe away the tears.
“part of me was hurt because i wanted to spend time you and you weren’t here. and you had advised me last minute you were going out. you always tell me a day, a week even a month in advance when you go out, i don’t know why i thought negative thoughts…” jude continued, kiss your hand and rubbing your cheek in comfort.
he watched you finally relax into his embrace, eyes closed and wet due to the tears, lips slightly plump and swollen from crying. “i saw your gift,” jude says happily, watching your glossy eyes lift up as you gave him a small smile. “where should we hang it up?”
“anywhere you want,” you say shrugging still trying to wrap your head if he actually stopped ignoring you. “y/n? you know i love you so much too right? i didn’t ever mean to make you cry, princess…” jude frowned pulling you down to him once again.
“but you did jude. i was so scared and nervous you wouldn’t talk to me because of that! you didn’t say goodbye nor a thanks, i called and you wouldn’t answer, texts straight to read! i was worried sick you wouldnt check in at all!”
jude heard you muffled out, feeling you hold him like you wanted and craved last night. jude peppered kisses onto your collarbone, “forgive me baby. i won’t ever do that again,” jude say between kisses. “ever ever ever again jude… we talk it out that’s how’s things work, okay jude?”
“and i’m sorry too. my head went to a different mind place and idk why i told you last minute when i had know the day before. i’ve been busy with the upcoming charity project it went through my head,” you apologized as well, holding his face between your hands as you placed small kisses on his cheeks, nose and temple. anywhere you had access to, feeling him smile and tug you closer to him.
“and i love you.”
“i know baby, i know. i also saw it on the note next to the minion holding the chocolates,” jude laughed making you giggle loud. “he kinda looked like you,” you joked hearing a small gasp come from jude’s mouth. “take it back!” jude says putting your against the couch and tickling your sides and neck. “never!”
“okay okay i take it back,” you say out of breath after laugh uncontrollably. jude and you never fought or argued, so holding him like this after not being able to felt like a reward. your leaned up and kissed him, sighed in delight as you felt the familiar plump lips with yours. “do i actually look like a minion,” jude said nervously, scratching the back of his head.
“yes yes you do…”
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addisonnie · 1 year
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Baptize in Your Thighs
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summary: Ellie doesn’t go to church. But when she does, it’s for the preacher’s daughter.
warnings: swearing, SMUT, fingering, oral, daddy kink (SORRY,) lowkey mean!ellie, dom/sub, religious mentions, talks of god, slight mentions of homophobia but hardly, let me know if I missed anything ALSO not proofread per usual sorry can’t be bothered!
an: surprise you dirty little dogs. im also a dirty little dog because what the FUCK is this. what did i just do? anyways time to do my homework now! enjoy you filthy little sluts
—————
Ellie doesn’t particularly believe in God. She doesn’t read the Bible, she doesn’t pray, and she certainly doesn’t go to church.
Yet, here she is.
The stained glass windows cast a rainbow haze over her skin, the freckles dotting her face twinkle under the glow. People slowly begin to fill in the pews surrounding her and she plays with the mini Bible placed in the wooden pocket of the seat in front of her. She looks out of place, feels out of place. People like her are usually struck by lightning the second they walk through those goddamn wooden doors— probably not the best time to use the Lord’s name in vain.
She’s gay, she’s grumpy, she’s occasionally mean. So, why is she here?
You. The preacher’s sweeter-than-a-peach daughter. Your smile is contagious, your laugh is precious, and Jesus Christ—again, not the best time— you have got to be one of the most alluring girls Ellie has ever seen. A floral dress hugs your waist beautifully and stops right above the middle of your supple thighs, tan pantyhose run up your legs and Ellie coughs into her hand when she accidentally makes eye contact with you.
You smile, of course you do. It’s nothing more than a formality your family forced upon you to keep raking in more church-goers—because who wants to attend a church run by an asshole family. Ellie smiles back before looking at her hands splayed across her thighs. She notices the click-clack of your kitten heels as you approach her pew, refusing to look up, she plays with the rip in her jeans.
“Is someone sitting here? With you.” Your saccharine voice floats through Ellie’s ears and wraps around her eardrum like a vice.
“No, go ahead.” She nods toward the open space next to her and you smile before sitting down and sliding closer to her. Your small hands smooth over your dress before you turn to face her, “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you a new member?”
Ellie has to hold back an eye roll—‘member?’ What is this? A cult?
“Just decided to finally come today. I usually don’t like getting up early on my days off.” You laugh and smile brightly at her, “I’m the same way. My daddy has to practically kick my door down to get me awake Sunday mornings.”
You’ve got a sweet little southern accent and Ellie feels herself growing aroused at the innocent aura weaved in every word you speak. She wonders if you’ve ever been aroused like this before.
Ellie notices you’re about to speak again before your father walks up onto the stage and begins his sermon. Immediately, your attention is brought to him and she sighs at the loss. The pastor is droning on about sinners and that those who are lost in the darkness should look for the light, Christ.
She doesn’t care. Ellie is much more focused on the fact that your dress has ridden much farther up your thighs due to the fact that you’ve crossed your legs. Her eyes trail up and down your pantyhose-covered legs and she shivers, drawing your attention back to her.
“Are you alright?”
Ellie’s eyes dart to your face, “just feeling overwhelmed, is all.”
You nod before pursing your lips and squinting, Ellie panics for a moment, thinking you’ve seen straight through her.
“Come with me.” You stand up in the pew and reach your hand out for Ellie to grab, quickly dragging her through the row and to the front doors of the church.
Your mother stands there, hands on her hips.
“Now, just where do you think you’re going? Your father is not going to be pleased that you’re skipping his sermon.” A whine escapes your lips and you tug on Ellie’s hand.
“Mama, this is Ellie. She’s feeling a little overwhelmed. I think the Holy Ghost is reaching out to her! I’m gonna take her to the house and let her have one of our spare bibles. You’re the one always saying we should help those that are lost!”
Your mother curtly nods at you before turning to face Ellie, “well, Miss. Ellie. You’re in good hands! I hope my daughter helps you work through your feelings. It’ll only lead to a healthier relationship with Christ.”
Ellie smiles and thanks her, in her head she’s rolling her eyes and telling your mom to fuck off. If anything, you’re the one in good hands. Ellie wants nothing more than to coax another whine from your plump, glossy lips.
Your hand is grasped in Ellie’s while you drag her across the dirt-filled church parking lot and into an old Victorian style home about a yard away from the side of the church. A couple cats sunbathe on the front porch and you happily greet them as you drag Ellie up the stairs and into your house.
It smells really nice. It’s creepy as fuck, though. The only thing she can really focus on are the abundance of crosses littering the walls. Who needs that many crosses? Do you beat intruders with them? Do they keep the demons away? Ellie shudders when she realizes that she’s probably the very thing they want casted out of her house.
“We can head up to my room, I’ve got a couple bibles there. You can have one, if you’d like!” There’s that sweet little voice again.
You pull her up the stairs and quickly lead her to your room. It’s exactly what Ellie expected. Pink toile wallpaper, a precious white bed frame, and a fluffy white comforter topped with way too many decorative pillows. A Bible lay open atop your bed, colorful markings and annotations scatter across the pages.
“Sorry! S’a bit of a mess, I don’t usually have people in my room. Mama and daddy don’t like it.”
Your mom and dad won’t like what Ellie is thinking about doing, either.
The two of you sit criss-cross on the bed and your nimble fingers quickly reach out to grasp at your Bible, “so, today my daddy’s sermon was meant to be about temptation. We can start there.”
How ironic. Temptation.
“How do you keep from giving into it? Temptation, that is?” Ellie leans in to be closer to your body, you look at her with wide eyes.
“I just—I usually just pray.”
Ellie smirks, “yeah? Does that make it go away?”
You push a stray strand of hair behind your ear and frown slightly, confused.
“Make what go away?”
God, you look so innocent like this. Big doe eyes staring up into Ellie’s, your legs crossed out in front of you. It’s sinful.
“Those butterflies you get in your tummy. The ones that make you feel funny.” She’s trying to dance around the topic of general horniness rather than just straight up asking if you touch yourself. Speaking to you about this is difficult, you’re a butterfly on a stray flower, and if Ellie jumps in too quickly, she’ll startle you and run you off.
“I—I don’t know what you mean.” You’re wiggling under her intense stare and a soft blush begins to bloom over the apples of your cheeks.
“Sweetheart, I think you do. Tell me what you do when you get that feeling.” Ellie leans in much closer to you, her minty breath fans over your face and she doesn’t miss the part when you clench your soft thighs together.
“Hebrews 13:4.” Ellie scoffs and swats at your knee, “that’s not what I’m asking you.”
You squeeze your eyes shut and huff out a breath, “Ellie. I’m trying to help you here. You wanna know what I do? I read the Bible and pray that God will rid me of those sinful feelings.”
And then Ellie is leaning closer, both her hands resting on your thighs, “are you going to pray right now? Ask God to get rid of that wet feeling in your panties? Ask him to smite me where I stand, hm?”
A bright red blush spans across your cheeks and you can’t bear to look at Ellie. She tuts, “look at me, angel.”
It’s ironic that she’s calling you angel when you feel like the complete opposite. The feeling of your cotton panties sliding against your sticky folds is enough to make you feel like the spawn of Satan himself. And to feel this way about a woman? You don’t even want to think about the repercussions of that.
“I touch myself. At night—after they’re asleep.” Ellie grins and squeezes your flesh between her fingers, “you’re a bad girl. What else do you do?”
A whine escapes your lips while you shove at Ellie’s calloused hands, “I can’t.”
Her face drops and she moves a hand up to squeeze your jaw in between her fingers, “you can. Tell me—better yet, why don’t you show me, angel?”
A gasp slides out of your mouth and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, “I—what! No! Ellie, I can’t do that. I won’t.”
Her unoccupied hand slowly trails toward the hem of your dress, “I thought you were supposed to be a good girl? Sweet little pastor’s daughter can’t follow simple instructions?”
You whimper, “M’a good girl.”
“Then act like one.”
Her hand releases your jaw and she smirks when she watches you inch backward on your bed until you’re resting against the headboard. Your legs are crossed in front of you and Ellie gives you a moment to uncross them before she grabs your ankles to spread your legs.
“Go on, then.”
Your fingers slowly raise the hem of your dress until it pools around your tummy and Ellie sucks in a breath when she sees your flowery pink panties underneath your pantyhose. One hand travels underneath the elastic of your underwear and a soft whimper leaves your parted lips when the pad of your fingertip ghosts over your clit.
Ellie can’t see your pussy through your undergarments but she can clearly make out the little wet spot growing between your legs. She watches while your finger swirls in a circular motion under your panties and feels her own growing damper when you let out a soft moan.
“More, sweet girl. I know you can.” Ellie is leaning back on her hands while she watches your hand speed up, you choke out a pathetic whine while looking at her, “can’t, Ellie!”
A deep frown settles across Ellie’s face after your outward denial, “fucking pathetic. Do I have to do it for you? Hm? Is that what you want?”
Your hand slides out from under your panties and you shimmy down on the bed and spread your legs to be bent on either side of her body.
“Does your daddy know how much of a filthy little slut you are?” She’s crawling up the bed until she’s sitting on her knees in front of you, one arm on either side of your head. You whimper and jut your hips out toward her.
A simple phrase passes through her lips, one that has you sucking in a breath and squeezing your eyes shut, “beg.”
“Please.” It’s a pathetic attempt at begging, but you were raised to always be polite, at least you said please.
She leans forward on her hands and quickly moves one of her legs forward to shove straight into your core, grinding roughly onto your puffy clit.
You let out a soft moan and clutch onto her bicep, “I said fucking beg. I wanna hear you pray for me like the good little church girl you are.”
She surges forward and immediately presses her lips onto yours in a messy kiss. Her lips are soft yet chapped, a clear juxtaposition to the supple, cherry-flavored skin of your pouty lips. Ellie doesn’t even give you a chance to deny her tongue before she’s prying your mouth open with her lips, immediately sliding the wet muscle into your awaiting mouth. The harshness of her jeans continually ruts into your clit and she doesn’t plan on giving you any more until she hears that prayer fall from your lips. Fingers are digging into her biceps and she has half a mind to complain when you finally pull back, “please touch me. Please, please. I’ll be a good girl—fuck. Please.”
Hearing the naughty word slip from your sweet lips has Ellie chuckling, “atta girl.”
She immediately sits back on her knees before running her hands up and down your spread thighs, the wet spot on your panties only growing more prominent. Her fingers reach your core and you whimper for the thousandth time, she bunches the material of your pantyhose and rips the fabric apart at the seam, leaving an open hole directly to your underwear.
“Ellie!” She grunts and gives you a sour look before attaching her lips to yours again. Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears while Ellie kisses you, spit is trailing down your chin and onto the valley of your breasts as Ellie fumbles with the soft material of your panties.
Sliding them to the side, she runs the pad of her pointer finger along your cunt, eliciting a gasp from you. Her finger dances over your folds and circles around your clit a few times before she trails back down to your hole, slowly pressing a finger inside.
“Oh—fuck! Ellie, please.”
She moves to kiss down the column of your throat while she slowly pulls her finger out, pushing it back in again.
“Better than your tiny fingers, hm, baby?” You nod and move a hand down to tug at her wrist, “more.”
Ellie moves her head away from your neck and scowls, “where have your manners gone?”
Tears are beginning to fill your doe eyes and for a minute Ellie feels bad for having such an attitude with you, but not bad enough to stop.
“Please. I want more of you.” That’s enough for her it seems, she slides her second finger in knuckle deep moans at the feeling of you digging your nails into her toned arms.
Her fingers quickly move in and out of your pussy, scissoring and twisting inside of you. You’re moaning, but quietly; Ellie doesn’t like that.
“Let me fucking hear you, sweet girl. Don’t be shy.” She speeds up the movement of her fingers and soon slides in a third finger, twisting her wrist around to hit you at a different angle. Her other arm moves to lift your leg onto her shoulder and the new angle has you releasing a borderline pornographic moan. It’s loud, and for a second you’re worried the church across the driveway heard it.
Her thumb repositions to quickly swipe over and circle at your clit. Your toes curl over Ellie’s shoulder and she listens to you squeak and cry out from under her. Teeth sink into your calf resting upon her shoulder and another loud moan slides from your parted lips when you feel Ellie harshly bite down on the skin and slide her tongue across the indention.
She feels you clenching religiously around her fingers and watches in awe as your wetness seeps into the palm of her hand and puddles on your pristine comforter.
“Close, baby?”
You whine in response and Ellie quickly halts her motions and slides her fingers out, “too bad.”
Your soft eyes full with tears and you slam your head backwards onto the pillow behind you, “fuck! Just—please, Ellie! Please please please—“
A harsh slap onto your pussy sends your hips jolting upward and your head flying forward. You whimper from the pain “m’sorry.”
“Rule number one. You only cum when I say you can. Got it, slut?” She delivers another harsh slap onto your clit and you arch your back in an attempt to be closer to her, “yes.”
She tuts, “yes, what?”
A confused look crosses your sweet face and you whine, shuffling your hips downward in hopes of some form of contact, “yes, Ellie?”
Another slap to your cunt, “ah—fuck! Yes! Yes, daddy!”
She smirks before lifting your other leg to rest on her shoulder, moving down on the bed until her face is settled in between your thighs.
“What are you doing?” You sound genuinely confused, which only confuses Ellie. Certainly you know what head is, right?
“M’gonna eat this pretty little pussy, baby. You want that?” She can practically hear you gulp. Your head nods and both of your hands slide to rest on top of her head.
Ellie leans in to pull your panties further to the side, pressing a chaste kiss right onto your clit, “oh my—“ you cut yourself off before you can say His name.
She smirks, “say it.”
And then she’s licking a long stripe up the expanse of your cunt, only stopping to suckle at your clit. Her tongue darts around in several circles before she finally fully takes your clit into her mouth and sucks harshly, “oh my God!”
She smirks into your pussy before moving her hand back up to slide knuckle-deep into your cunt again. Her long fingers piston in and out of your slick core while she hums and sucks on your clit. Fingers are digging into her scalp and yanking at her hair, your heels are digging into her back, and ear-shattering moans are diving out of your mouth.
Ellie does believe in God, because this, this is heaven.
She feels you constricting so hard around her fingers that it’s starting to get difficult to continually fuck in and out of you, her bicep is burning from the amount of effort she’s putting into getting you there.
“Daddy—fuck, please. M’so close. Please please please.” You’re babbling at this point, and Ellie is pretty sure you’ve literally never came before because she didn’t even edge you for that long and you’ve already got tears streaming down your round cheeks and onto your neck.
She moans onto your clit before slightly pulling away, “good girl, you can come.”
That’s all it takes, the vibration of Ellie’s words send shockwaves through your clit and immediately you’re seeing stars, clenching down onto Ellie’s fingers like a vice. She fucks you through it, she doesn’t stop, either.
Her mouth continues to suck on your clit long after you’ve come, and her fingers are still buried to the hilt inside of you.
“Oh! Please—please, can’t do more.”
Her teeth graze over your puffy clit, “yes you fucking can, roll over.”
She pulls away just long enough for you to roll over onto your tummy, “face down. Gonna have you on your knees praying for me to stop.”
Your face is mashed into the pillows and Ellie uses her knee to shove your legs further apart, her large hands immediately move to spread your pussy apart and she licks a long stripe from your clit to your tighter hole.
“Fucking shit! Fuck fuck fuck!” The filthy words pass through your lips like nothing, and Ellie almost laughs at the idea of the sweetest girl in the world having such a foul mouth. She moves back down to stuff her tongue into your pussy, sliding the wet muscle in and out, licking and sucking on your folds like a woman starved.
You’re babbling and sobbing into your pillowcase, begging for literally anything. Ellie keeps her mouth connected to your pussy, but moves both of her hands to grip the globes of your ass and quickly spreads them. One hand stays planted on your ass, the other trails upward until her thumb rests over your tight hole, pressing in slightly before circling around it. She uses her previous spit as lube before slowly sliding her thumb into your ass, leaving it there while she licks on your cunt.
A sob erupts from your lips and immediately you’re rocking back and forth on her face, “good fucking girl. Use me, baby.”
Her thumb slides farther into your ass and before you know it, she’s sliding her other hand to meet it. She presses in her second thumb and you squeal, clenching around her fingers.
With one last lick to your clit, your orgasm hits like a truck. Your juices leak down Ellie’s chin and spurt out onto her cheeks, effectively covering her face with you. It’s deliciously sweet and Ellie happily laps up everything that drips from your pussy lips, slurping and gurgling like a feral animal.
She pulls away from your cunt and turns her face to the side, rubbing your juices onto her clothed shoulder. Her thumbs stay planted in your ass and she lightly pulls her thumbs apart, spreading you open.
“Fuck—fuck. No more. No!”
Ellie chuckles and decides to remove her fingers. She watches your knees buckle and you drop fully onto your bed, shaking and whimpering, “oh my God. Oh my God.”
You keep repeating it. Over and over.
“It’s actually Ellie. But, I told you I’d have you praying for me instead.”
You grunt into the pillow case and Ellie laughs, moving to rub her hand soothingly up and down the expanse of your back. She presses a kiss between your shoulder blades and helps you slide your shredded pantyhose down your legs along with your underwear.
Your dress is still bunched up around your chest and Ellie rugs the fabric down to cover your ass after pressing a kiss to the plump skin.
Just as she slides your dress fully back down, a knock sounds at your bedroom door, “honey? It’s dad. The sermon is over and I’m heading back to the church for the potluck. Are you coming?”
Ellie squeezes the flesh of your thighs in warning, “no, daddy. I’m staying here, don’t feel—ah, don’t feel good.”
Her fingers drift over your puffy lips while she listens to you answer your father outside the door, “okay, honey.”
His footsteps clank down the stairs and Ellie waits to hear the front door slam before she whispers in your ear, “I don’t think I’m done with my sermon yet.”
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