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httpsserene · 6 months

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟱: 𝗹𝗲𝘄𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘁𝗼𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝘅 & 𝗰𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your husband comes home to his monaco apartment after achieving p2 in spain. from the texts you sent him before he boarded his flight, he expected you to be awake when he arrived. however, you’ve fallen asleep–but that’s not a problem. he’ll sneak into bed right next to you and catch a few extra hours of sleep. you’ll commemorate the podium come morning. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. vaginal sex. lingerie. marriage. unsafe sex. no pull-out. tender sex. slow and sensual. cockwarming. intimacy. no beta we get disqualified like lewis and charles. not dirty? husband/wife kink (if that’s a thing). more soft. sickeningly sweet (ig). 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lewis hamilton x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: icu • coco jones

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: needed something to soothe the soul after the austin gp disqualifications. this is at the same time the least kinky thing i’ve written so far and the most kinky thing ever. because love feels filthier to write, idk if that makes sense. it’s on the shorter side because i ditched the preamble in order to finish this in time lol, but i dedicate this to my twin @saintwrld :) (it reminds me of her renaissance series :p y'all should check it out @saintslewis) and i hope everyone enjoys it !!!!

do you want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

lewis sighs tiredly as he lies down in bed next to you. the mercedes driver turns on his side facing you, and laughs quietly. your bonnet, of course, has grown a pair of legs and climbed its way off your head and is sleeping on the pillow next to you—your braids fanned out on the pillow underneath you unprotected. lewis carefully wrangles the bonnet back on you and smiles adoringly when he notices that you're wearing the matching bonnet he got you almost nine years ago. and to feel how the matching bonnets makes his heart stutter after spending a decade of his life with you, two of those years being married; he knows being married to you is one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

he tugs you, his wife, closer; cooing out loud when he notices that you’re clad in one of his tommy hilfiger hoodies, tucking your head under his chin, arms wrapping around you tightly, and legs intertwining comfortably. you hum against his chest, nuzzling deeper into his bare skin, and a faint smile lingers on your lips, and unconscious reaction to having your husband home again. lewis throws his head back groaning, he can’t wake you up now. you had spammed his phone with texts before his flight, promising that he’d get a “surprise” when he got home, for doing so well this weekend—and he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up just so he can fuck you. well, he thinks, he can just get a couple hours of sleep in and then he’ll wake you up and enjoy whatever gift you’ve decided to bless him with and he drifts into sleep.

when lewis wakes up again, the first thing he notices is that he’s slept for way more than a couple hours. the noon sun has brightened the room immensely, and he’s shocked that he managed to stay asleep for so long with how the sun is shining directly on his face. he shifts onto his back, groaning at the soreness left from racing, and glances down at you to see if your still sleeping, and chokes on his breath. his hoodie is rucked up your waist from sleep, exposing your black lace panties, and when he shifts to get a better view of your ass, his body jostles yours and reveals the silver shift of glitter in the fabric.

“fuck,” lewis murmurs, he’s always been weak for you dressing in his team colors. one of his tattooed hands takes a generous squeeze of your ass, and he wonders if you're wearing the matching top. his grip on your ass may have become a smidge too tight at that thought, because you softly gasp awake. lewis watches as you squirm against him softly, face twisted in confusion, before you make eye contact with him, and you relax.

you smile sweetly, your left hand rising to rest on his cheek, “welcome home, champ.” lewis laughs at your half-asleep tone, nuzzling his face into your hand, before turning to press a kiss at the ring he put on your finger. “it was only a second-place finisher, love. no need to call me ‘champ.’”

frowning at him, you scoff, “you are still a seven-time world champion, are you not?” lewis concedes to your point; he’s not interested in being scolded by you today—he’s more concerned with unwrapping the present you got him. he hums and noses at your chin before he captures your lips in a dizzying kiss. your lips are languid against each other, there’s no rush in rediscovering the crevices within your mouths. lewis ignores how your teeth tug at his bottom lip, urging him to speed up—he only deepens the kiss, not quickening his pace, coercing you to melt under his passion.

he pulls away, enjoying how your gaze has transformed from sleep-hazy to lust-hazy. “mmm, is my ‘surprise’ the panties and matching bra you have under my hoodie?” lewis asks you. you nod your head gently, scooting back and pulling the hoodie up to reveal the matching silver-glitter covered black bralette. he moans at the sight of you; perky breasts and nipples hard underneath the lace, your eyes half-lidded in arousal. his hands reach out to grasp at your chest, thumbs dragging over your nipples, causing a shaky moan to fall from your lips at the friction. you reach to pull the hoodie off but lewis grunts in dissent, “nah, keep it on for me. just make sure it stays up, love.”

“ohmygod,” you giggle quietly, “you can just say you’re obsessed with fucking me in your clothes.”

lewis rolls his eyes at you, “okay: i’m obsessed with fucking you in my clothes. i love the way you smell like me after, i love the way your smell lingers when i wear them after you, i love the way you look in my clothes; if i could choose, i wish you’d only ever wear my clothes and have pretty lingerie underneath them all the time.”

you stare at him wide-eyed, not expecting him to flip your teasing words in that manner, maybe that’s why your panties suddenly feel a little wet. you bite your lip, trying to think of a way to regain the upper hand, and lewis clocks your eyes brightening.

“i fingered myself open for you last night. i’m sure you could still slip in, if you’re up for it.”

lewis chuckles, half-crazed, and murmurs, “if i’m up for it? promise me, if i ever say no to having sex with you that you’ll take me to see a doctor?”

you hum, hand shifting to rub at the nape of his neck, “i promise, baby. can you fuck me now—i fell asleep waiting for you last night.”

lewis quickly gets to work positioning your body. he spins you around to your side, your back pressed against his chest, and spreads your thighs open with his knee. you moan at his easy manhandling, and press your ass back to grind against the tent in his boxers. he encourages the movement of your hips, even directing the grind for a few beats before he halts your motions. his hand slips in between the two of you, and tugs his dick out. he pulls your panties to the side and slowly slips into you. your mouth drops open in a silent moan, overwhelmed by the stretch from his dick spreading you open. lewis sighs deeply as he bottoms out within you, and kisses you on the shoulder. he stays still, allowing you the time you need to adjust. you shift your hips gently, testing the feel, and hum in assent.

lewis moves his hand to find yours, and locks them over your navel, using them to pull you as close to his body as he can. he whispers softly, “can we take it nice and slow today? i want to make love to you today.”you hum, and it shifts to a whine as his hips gently rock into yours, and whimper out, “it’s your present—can use it however you want.”

lewis keeps the motion of hips slow and controlled, pulling out halfway before sinking in as deep as he can reach. it’s stunning how you can feel every bit of love lewis puts into his thrusts, seeping into you. he continues to pepper kisses on your neck and shoulder, and slips his other arm underneath you, and moving your body slowly so you twist back further, exposing your chest to him again. the hoodie remains bunched under your armpits, and lewis tugs the bralette down underneath your chest, causing your breasts to spill out lewdly over the top. his hand rests over your chest, not groping in any manner, just holding you close, feeling how your heartbeat speeds up from his movements.

in the decade you’ve been in a relationship with lewis, you’ve had some life-changing sex. but, for some reason, the slow and sensual sex has to be your favorite. it feels restorative, like he’s breathing life back into your body, with every deep thrust he’s showing you how much he loves you. and he’s not afraid to say it either.

“i love you, so much—you’re so good to me—my wonderful wife—all for me—all mine—i’ll make you feel so good, love—forever, yeah—you and me, like this—i win everything for you—“

you rock back against him, always weak when he can help but run his mouth, and start rambling back to him, mouth loose from the pleasure he continues to give to you, “my oh! my husband—only you for me, yeah?” he moans into your neck, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to you calling him your husband.

there’s no telling how long the two of you are wrapped together, neither you are in any rush to reach a climax—you both crave the intimacy sex like this provides, especially after he’s been away. your orgasms crest over your bodies slowly but they’re more satisfying than any other release you could get from rough sex. lewis continues to grind his dick in you as deep as he can, not making any motion to pull out, and ignores the building sensitivity he’s feeling.

lewis smiles at the blissed out look on your face, and watches how you struggle to open your eyes; he’s been fucking you back to sleep this whole time—that would explain why your rambles disappeared as you got closer to your peak. he tugs the hoodie back down over your chest, and one-handedly drags the duvet to cover your bodies, not wanting you to get cold. “hey, love,” he calls softly, “do you want me to pull out and clean you up?” you shake your head, and turn back onto your side fully, pressing you back to his chest again, and you start to doze off. lewis rubs at your waist gently, soothing you further into sleep—he’s never going to say no to having you keep his dick warm.

lewis carefully reaches towards the nightstand and grabs his phone, and quickly sets an hour alarm. he won’t let himself be fooled by the call of sleep and let the whole day fly by, like he did last night—he’d rather not be awoken by his angry wife screaming about uti’s and whatnot. he’ll just bathe in the afterglow while you sleep soundly; he just wants to look after you a little longer.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr@nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Yandere Pyramid Headcanons

Warnings: Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Behaviour, Pyramid also exists in the version of Silent Hill before the Church Bell Rings, Mention of Physical Attack on Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Possessive ahh monster man.

Keeps you in a safe, isolated location far from the epicentre of the town so that the only monster you’re at risk of is him.

Scary dog privileges :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, no matter how trivial the task. Unless you ask him to let you go outside.

Even if the other creatures aren’t wandering around and prowling the streets at that moment, he refuses to let you out.

Unless you give him the puppy dog eyes, which, to his absolute confusion, he found himself unable to resist.

But only once.

You used Pyramid’s weakness for cuteness against him and, when he heard a sound in the distance – the all-too familiar ringing of church bells – and turned to face the origin, you took your chance to escape.

You knew the monsters would come as the world around you peeled, revealing a hellish, rust-ridden, infested reality which, in your terror-stricken state, you didn’t think you’d be around long enough to be at risk of.

Of course, you were cornered.

Of course, just as you were about to become a commemorative name and face on a t-shirt at the hands of a monstrosity, Pyramid Head stepped in and wiped that jittering, straight-jacketed bastard off every map there was, physical and spectral.

Much like the very day he met you. Took you (for what purpose, you still do not know).

He’s never let you out of his sight since.

Keeps you by his side when he’s on a supply run since he can’t trust you to remain in the safety of whatever building he’s fortified.

You might not know it, given his involuntarily stoicism, but Pyramid Head is constantly watching you.

Sure, you may get the feeling you’re being watched, but in a town like Silent Hill, that’s practically a birthright.

And besides, Pyramid doesn’t have any eyes…you think ? So how can he possibly be watching you ?

If you try to chance your arm and run away, he uses his knife as a deterrent.

Slams it down right where you’d be if you had been a second quicker.

He’d never hit you. Not intentionally.

His strength and eternity of wielding the blade makes it as easy to control it as if it were his arm, or an extra limb.

But you don’t need to know that.

He’s lowkey a sucker for physical contact btw.

Once, he found you standing closer to him than usual when the day grew particularly cold.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing at first until you flat-out muttered about “How frigid” it was.

Clouds seemed to form before your face, a human anomaly Pyramid hadn't witnessed this close before. If ever.

This man has no clue how to help you, so he just kind of watched as you gave him a wide-eyed look and, quivering, approaching him as if he were a feral dog (why did you look so scared of him…?), leaned against his side.

He shifted, jumped, stepped back.

What was this feeling ?

His heart spiked, his skin prickled.

Alarmed, you sprang back, and he couldn’t articulate the response to tell you to stay, come back, I’m sorry.

When the two of you finally resumed your journey to nowhere, he walked a little closer to you, inching nearer every few minutes until his hand brushed your side.

And you didn’t pull away :> !

Eventually, when you grew tired, you settled in a decrepit little room that, much like the rest of the town, looked as if it would fall apart if you so much as gave it a mean look.

In a rare act of humanity, Pyramid sat beside you.

And he damn near jumped out of his skin (again) when, unprovoked, you leaned against him.

He made sure not to spook you. Not again.

He couldn’t handle that wounded stare you’d given him earlier. It made him feel…weak. Vulnerable. Human.

And he did not enjoy it.

Well, that's what he thought at first. Before the warmth of something unidentifiable settled in his chest.

From then on, he started taking you out during the colder hours of the day just for the chance to have your skin brush against his.

And each time, that feeling, that tightness in his chest, would spark, set him alight with a fluttering sensation he'd never known before he found you.

Until you got sick. Then he toned it down a little.

But only because he couldn’t enjoy his solitary walks to where he knew medicine lay, too concerned with wondering why you were jerking, and why you sounded like you were roaring whenever you opened your mouth and your eyes squeezed shut, or why liquid would pour out of your nose.

Bless him, he doesn’t know what a cold – or sickness – is. But he does know that, when you lay on top of him and basically used him as your bed, curling up on his chest, he thought he’d seen light.

Real light.

Has resisted the urge to try and make you ill again just for that purpose.

Luckily, your random acts of affection – hand holding (or finger holding, since your entire hand could wrap around one of his fingers), nuzzling, leaning on him, saying “Thank you” whenever he returned with the supplies – keeps his unhealthy tendencies at bay.

Well, most of them at least.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

#silent hill #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #yandere #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere pyramid head #silent hill x reader #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #male yandere #monster x human

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Rescue and Ruin

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony rescues something for you... and it will likely lead to your ruin.

Warnings: None really. Flirting, sexual tension, banter, and the promise of more. A lot of teasing, soaking wet Viscount.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. Very belated request fill for @daisfordaysstuff (request: I’m rewatching season 2 again, and I think I need one on this scene [lake Anthony]). I just had to post an Anthony story today to commemorate the birthday of Jonathan Bailey, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. This is actually my oldest request fill, lingering in my inbox since Sept 2022. Sorry, my lovely; I hope late is better than never. I just got an idea of how I wanted this to play out. I hope you enjoy <3

“I’ll get it!”

A chivalrous call comes as you watch in dismay as your favourite bonnet take off in a gust of wind and flies over the lake, landing almost gracefully about twenty feet out into the gently rippling water.

You had just stolen down to the water's edge to get away from the crowds for a few moments of solitude, drawn to the beauty of the water as the sun danced on the little peaks caused by the gusty breeze. It had looked like a shimmering mirage from the terrace.

You are shocked when the one and only Viscount Anthony Bridgerton gives you a brief, polite nod as he passes you, then dives off a little jetty, still fully clothed, making you gasp loudly.

What on earth?!?

This is his garden party. Well, strictly his mother's, but he is Viscount, and this is the Bridgerton family country estate, Aubrey Hall. You are still awestruck to be here, a guest of your maternal aunt you are staying with here in Kent. Why on earth he would dive into his lake to rescue something as trivial as a hat seems mystifying. You are certain he has staff that could assist rather than take it upon himself and quite clearly ruin his outfit.

He re-emerges to the surface from his dive and swims with awe-inspiring speed towards your hat as it skates across the surface, propelling along not unlike some toy boat. When he finally reaches it, he holds it aloft triumphant and twists to swim back one-handed as he keeps it above the water.

You find yourself drawn down to the jetty he jumped off of. To give your thanks, express your surprise, and take back your hat and hope it is salvageable. You twist around to check, but all the other party guests seem oblivious to the incident or his actions, the string quartet playing so loudly closer to the house and the buffet table so laden everyone's eyes and ears are preoccupied.

“Thank you, my lord,” you demure as he pulls up to the jetty and places your bonnet on the wooden slats by your feet. “That was completely unnecessary, but I am, of course, so very grateful,” you curtsy and pick up the bonnet.

Luckily, thanks to his swift actions, it will be fine. Just the brim and lower edge touched the water. You wring out the soaked ribbons as best you can, then wrap them around your neck and tie them in a secure bow. It may be too wet to wear on your head for now, but at least it should dry while tied securely and draped down over your back. You curtsy again as you feel him watching you, unsure what else to do to convey your gratitude.

He laughs, and you see him fighting with the buttons on his jacket, still standing in the lake, the water around waist height. “There is no need to curtsy or to be so formal Miss…?” he squints up at you expectantly.

“Oh, it's Miss y/l/n,” you rush out and, for some reason, curtsy again.

“I mean it; please stop curtsying, especially to a man in such a state as me,” he says drolly, fighting off his jacket and tossing it, sodden and heavy, onto the jetty.

You are blatantly staring as he peels away his waistcoat and fights with his cravat. His thin cotton white shirt has turned entirely transparent in the water; it is barely there. Under it, you can see so much skin, toned and rippling muscle as his jerking movements strip off his clothing. Over his chest is a patch of dark hair clinging to the material you cannot look away from. You have never even so much as seen how a man looks without a shirt on before, and this sight makes your heart pound and your body tingle.

Glancing up from his actions, the corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know he has caught you—openly ogling him. Your cheeks are aflame, and you cut your eyes away.

“You may look, Miss y/l/n,” his pitch has dropped to something low and velvety, and it buzzes right into your core. Hesitantly your eyes dart back to his handsome face; the lip quirk spreads into a devastating, stunning smile. “It is alright; no one has marked us,” he assures, his gaze cutting to your right towards the house, then back to your face. “You shall not have broken any rules of propriety by talking with me. Or staring at me as you are,” he teases, an eyebrow arching appealingly.

“My lord, that is not what….” You begin to protest, knowing it's a lie even as you voice it; your reflex to appear chaste is so crucial to your need to find a match that your aunt and parents are so desperate for you to make.

But your words die out as he places both hands firmly on the dock and propels himself up and out of the water in one swift, athletic move. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he unfurls upwards from the kneeling position, drawing up to his full height. Water sluices down his body and makes his clothing cling to every single contour of his toned, defined torso. He looms closer; you tilt backwards, entranced by the tracks of droplets over the lines of his handsome face, his burned umber eyes catching the sunlight and boring into you as he crowds closer.

“Do not lie to yourself or to me, Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles, “we both know you were and, indeed, continue to stare”.

His words make your body riot; your stays feel too tight for your lungs to breathe, your skin pricking hot. He’s so close now you can smell the vaguely mossy lake smell on his skin, on what little clothing he has left on; it’s dancing there on the breeze alongside something spicier and amber that you can only assume is his cologne. You want to stutter an apology, to offer your thanks again, to ask him to leave, to ask him to stay, to ask him to touch you—so many jumbled, contradictory thoughts.

“The more pertinent question is, do you like what you see?” he murmurs and leans in, his words ghosting warm on the shell of your ear.

This is the sort of thing your aunt has warned you about. Rakes. Handsome, wealthy, titled men who will tease and take what they can from young, innocent ladies such as yourself. You want to be affronted, tell him to desist, and give him a scathing remark about appropriate behaviour. But once again, you don't. Your body drawn to him, you want to trace your fingers over the swell of his chest muscles, to feel those strong arms grab your waist and haul you against his sodden form.

“No answer is, in some ways, an answer,” he chuckles with a lilt that is both arrogant and devastatingly attractive.

“My lord, we may be seen at any moment…” Your protest is weak and breathy, not moving away as he continues to stand far too close to you, as lake water drips onto your shoes.

Suddenly a clammy hand wraps around your elbow, and you are being pulled towards the nearby cluster of thick trees and bushes that abut the lake. You almost stumble and smack into him face-first as he pulls up short and releases your arm. The air feels cooler here, with dappled shade, verdant and alive with the scent of flowering bushes and leaves. The view of the house and, indeed, the party guests is wholly obscured. No one would ever know you are here.

“Do you have an answer now that we cannot be seen?” he breathes inches from you, towering over you.

“My lord… I,” you cannot find words, hanging your head. You know this is wrong. Very wrong. Your aunt would kill you for being this wanton, for allowing him to do this to you. And yet…. Every fibre of your being wants this. To see what he will do. To see what you will let him do. You suspect it's more than you even understand.

“Say it after me….” he intones, a finger tilting your chin up to look into his fiery gaze.

“I…” he begins.

“I…” you parrot.

“Like…”

“Like,” you repeat, and the grin on his face grows wider.

“What….”

“What,” your breath quickening with each word.

“I…”

“I,” that finger still lingers under your chin, caressing gently.

“See.”

“See,” you exhale shakily.

“There. Now was that so hard…hmmm?” he teases, that finger now joined by his thumb stroking over the point of your chin, the lake water running down his forearm to the point of material bunched under his elbow that now drips down the front of your dress. The dampness seeps through the material and into your heated skin.

The cord of tension in the air is palpable. You don't know what to say or what to do.

“I have another question for you,” he buzzes, and the fingers on your chin slip lower, over your throat, lighting a line of fire as they trail over your delicate skin. Your pulse pounding in your veins. You swallow hard and feel the calloused fingertips trace into your suprasternal notch. “Maybe this one you can answer,” he huffs a sarcastic laugh as your body spirals and you fight to keep your breath even.

“What is it, my lord?” your voice barely a whisper.

“Would you be willing to help me, your gracious host today, get dry?” he practically purrs.

“How…. how on earth could I do that?” you stumble.

He smiles predatory and so handsome you give up and let your chest heave, ragged breathing.

“Under your dress, you wear a chemise, do you not?” he continues, those fingers tracing over the wet bow of your bonnet strings tied over your clavicle.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer shakily.

“Well did you know such items can be an excellent towel in a pinch,” he shrugs one shoulder and lifts an eyebrow as his fingers slip lower over your breastbone until they reach the neckline of your dress, at the swell of your breast.

There is no point in pretending he is not utterly destroying you now. You can’t school anything—the blush darkening over your skin, creeping up from your chest, the tingle in your lips, the hot flush you feel all over. A viscous pulse in your underwear that feels entirely alien and where your decision-making seems to be centred at right this very moment.

“So I suppose my last question, for now, is, are you willing to give it to me?” you gasp at his turn of phrase as those fingers swirl patterns over the neckline of your dress. “Your chemise, of course,” he amends with a wink.

Utter, utter rake.

“H-how can I give you my chemise without removing my dress too?” you wonder aloud.

“Well, that is the challenge, isn't it?” he smirks. “Now I can see two options here. I can do the gentlemanly thing, turn my back and allow you to undress and then you may hand me your chemise once decent again. I will dry myself the best I can and return to the house to change.”

“And the second option?” you cannot resist querying.

“Ahh, that,” he seems to pull even closer, and the fingers slip over the neckline and onto the silk ruching that covers your breasts; even through the material layers, you can feel his fingers lingering over your nipple and the throbbing between your legs turns almost painful. “The second option is that I am not a gentleman. Not in the slightest,” his answer cryptic but dripping with a dark, forbidden promise.

“What does that involve…?” you pant.

You watch, enthralled, as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, and in seeming slow-motion, his mouth begins to form a shape to speak words…

“ANTHONY!!”

The yell is from a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes. Both of you jump apart as if burned.

“ANTHONY?!” the male voice calls again, “ARE YOU AROUND?”

It's obvious the person has no idea you are merely a few feet away, only that they are looking for him.

Stay here, Anthony mouths silently, and you nod, your heart beating wildly at the whiplash of experiences.

With one rueful glance at you, at the interrupted moment, he turns around and fights through the mass of foliage back out to the lawn.

“Oh, there you are!” the voice exclaims. “We wondered what the devil had happened to you!!”

“Colin…” you hear him respond.

“Hell and the devil. Why are you soaked through?? Did you decide to go for a swim fully clothed? Did you find my special tea??” his voice ramping up in incredulity as he likely clocks Anthony's bedraggled appearance.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Anthony’s reply seems clipped. “I rescued a small beautiful creature, if you must know,” he obfuscates.

“Ahh, hero antics,” Colin laughs. “Well, you had better go change right away. Mother expects you to make a toast for our esteemed guests in a few minutes.”

You hear Anthony’s frustrated noise of derision and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand between deep breaths, trying to bring yourself back to a state of normality after the rollercoaster of experiences you just had.

“Urghhh, alright,” Anthony sighs, embattled, “I think I dropped my pocket watch back in the bushes. Give me one moment to find it, and I will accompany you back to the house.”

“Side entrance,” Colin responds dryly.

“Indeed,” you hear Anthony call.

You tense as the bushes before you start to rustle as he fights through them to reach you. He stalks up to you, and you gasp audibly.

“Shhh,” he warns quietly, his lips right at your ear, gusting hot, “it looks as if I must sadly depart. Your chemise is safe for today, Miss y/l/n.”

With a boldness you didn’t know yourself capable of, you grab the shirt's sleeves rolled up around his elbows.

“I would never want not to be helpful to you, my lord,” you whisper tremulant, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric. “If removing my chemise can ever be of assistance to you in future, please be sure to let me know.”

You cannot believe you allow yourself to say something so scandalous.

He pulls back slightly, and it's his turn to exhale unsteadily, his pupils dilated; his expression wild. You can see a vein hammering in his throat.

“Oh goddd,” he moans, closing his eyes as if pained.

“What?” concern suddenly flooding your tone.

His eyes reopen, and they pin you with their intensity.

“Mark my words,” his tone is low, gravelly, “if you continue to talk so brazenly, it will only encourage me.”

It is the sexiest warning bell you have ever heard.

“And if you continue to tease and defy me, I will pursue you. Relentlessly,” he growls, and once again, your body is rioting.

“Good god. How long does it take to find a pocket watch, man?” Colin calls impatiently, once again breaking the moment between you as it threatens to bubble over.

“I've found it!” Anthony twists to call over his shoulder. “I’ll be there presently!”

“Hurry up!” Colin grouses.

Anthony turns back, and his breath is hot over your cheek. He seems to stare at your lips for an inordinate amount of time as you stare back. Transfixed.

“Today, I shall be a gentleman,” he states reluctantly and draws away slightly. “However…” and your heart spikes in victory, “once that clock strikes midnight. I make no promises. And I shall be standing right here,” his tone decisive, his finger pointing to the spot right by his feet. “Just so you and your chemise will know where to find me,” he rumbles, then gives you a polite bow and is gone.

You have to grab onto a tree to stop yourself from swooning. Already knowing you will be stealing away from your room as the clock strikes midnight. Uncaring of consequences.

You want him to ruin you.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz

#anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton #1k notes #1k notes omg you guys!#2k notes #2k notes holy crap you guys!

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Note

Can you write headcannons for Smoke and Bihan with their s/o who's overworked themselves to the point where they hardly get sleep and barely eat?

Tomas Vrbada

He’s naturally going to be concerned about your well being the moment you rejected food and or sleep on multiple occasions across a period of time.

Tomas understood that your work was important that that you’ll have a fair few nights where you went without sleep or eating, but he quickly draws the line when he could start to visibly see the physical toll your overworking tendency has taken. You could barely stand on your own two fucking feet without constantly shifting your stance, as your eyes struggled to stay open and the dark begs beneath them got worse.

To Tomas no job was worth someone’s health and well-being and this job certainly wasn’t worth yours in the slightest. Your work be damned but he wasn’t about to watch you slowly deteriorate overtime, whilst he’s stuck stood at the sidelines, knowing deep down that he could stop this before it becomes too late to make change.

‘Why?’ You asked when Tomas asked you to take some time off from work, biting back a yawn, thinking you were slick. ‘I’m in the middle of something important for work and I have to cover for two long shifts later this week, seeing as my coworker had dropped them on a extremely short notice…again.’ You muttered the last bit under your breath but Tomas heard it as though you were speaking at a normal volume.

‘That!’ He pretty much exclaimed before composing himself and sat beside you at your desk, taking one of your hands in his whilst his thumb rubbed your skin soothingly. ‘Look I get that you love this job and want to build a career for yourself, which I’m all for but,’ he looks into your eyes where you saw just how worried he was, ‘I don’t want to stand by and watch you destroy yourself for a job that doesn’t commemorate all you’ve done for them.’

Tomas rested his forehead against yours, his heart melting when he saw how easily you learn into his warmth. ‘So please, take a break, sleep and for my sake please eat because I can’t bear to watch you destroy yourself for others who don’t value you like I do.’ He whispered against your lips. ‘I see the effort you put in but there has to come a time where you must walk away from situations that don’t benefit you.’ You sat on his words and allowed yourself to feel just how exhausted, how heavy with fatigue your body was that you could barely lift a finger.

Tomas was right, like he always was, maybe a break wouldn’t be so bad if it meant you could cuddle into him and indulge in his cooking as much as your stomach could handle.

Yeah, that sounds way better than working.

‘Okay.’ You said softly. ‘I’ll call in tomorrow.’

‘No need, I already told them that you’d be taking a break and to not be contacted until you feel like you’re ready to go back in.’ Tomas admitted and you couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Unbelievable.’ You teased, only to yawn soon after before nestling yourself again him. ‘But I’m not complaining if it means I get to annoy you for the next few days.’

Tomas was the one the chuckle this time and kisses the top of your head. ‘Jokes on you, I love having you annoy me. Now get to sleep, baby. You’re more than deserving of it.’

Bi-Han

I see him as the kind of person to do the same but I could be wrong. He just strikes me as the type to not properly take care of himself, ya know? That’s just my opinion.

Bi-Han runs himself into the ground to become stronger for himself and for the future survival of the Lin Quei but the moment you begin to run yourself into the ground for other people at your place of work? He becomes the biggest hypocrite known to man.

So he wouldn’t think much of it at first but the more it happened, the more it became apparent to Bi-Han that something was wrong, very wrong and he needed to step in.

He finds your desire to make a career for yourself admirable but not like this, you don’t get respect from the people who’ll never understand the importance of a hard days work. In Bi-Han’s, everyone else should strive to earn your respect for the shit you put yourself through. Seeing as you weren’t given no thanks for your efforts, but instead countless more expectations to pick up your coworkers slack.

So I wouldn’t put it past Bi-Han to demand that you take a break, Grandmaster’s orders and all that.

‘Bi-Han I can’t just take a break! I’ve got important work to do-‘

‘Work that isn’t yours to complete.’ Bi-Han interrupted but he was right, you had finished your work in advance and now multiple people at work suddenly claimed that they had other obligations to do theirs, thus pulling them onto you instead with nothing other then fake smiles and even faker gratitude.

Curse your people pleasing tendencies!

You sighed, rubbing at your aching eyes that have only seemed to have gotten worse over the course of the past couple of days. ‘Then what do you suggest I do? Not finish them and let them bitch at me for their lack of responsibilities?’ You asked rhetorically, knowing that with Bi-Han, you’ll never win this argument as he always has something to back up his claims.

And besides you were too tired to argue against something that you both knew was true, it wasn’t your work to finish and so by that logic, no blame would befall you entirely. At least you hoped not.

‘It is due to their lack of responsibility that has caused you this fatigue, beloved. They’re more then deserving of the punishment.’ Bi-Han said. ‘You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s decisions nor destroy yourself into looking reliable to your peers. You’re better than them, more resilient, dependable, hard working, determined but most of all; you take responsibility for any and all of your decisions applicably.’ Bi-Han sat back at his chair and gestured to the food before the both of you that had yet to be touched. ‘But now it’s time you rest and eat as much as you possibly can.’

#mk x reader #mk x you #mk imagine #mk imagines #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #tomas vrbada imagine #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada x you #smoke x reader #bi han imagines #bi han x you #bi han imagine #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader

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owliellder · 8 months

Text

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

Text

━ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐈𝐀𝐍.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — MITCH MARNER x reader (est. relationship) wc — 4.5k synopsis — think hilary duff’s balcony engagement circa 2007

note — this belongs to the i don't remember this bar collection

specific content warnings below the cut.

cw — profanity and other vulgar language, taking the lord’s name in vain + other religious-ish imagery, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected PIV intercourse (multiple) + creampie/breeding kink, discussion/thoughts of cum play, outdoor sex and mention of previous exhibitionism, mention of previous choking + breath play (f!reader receiving), pain kink situation (both), one line of blood play (f!reader receiving), justified violence (not directed at reader!!!), slight d/s dynamics, and possessive!mitch being a domestic little horndog

“Before we talk about that beautiful, game-tying goal in the tail-end of the second and your overall command of the offensive zone throughout tonight’s game, I first want to congratulate you on some major life news. A few weeks belated; my apologies.

For those who don’t know, you came back from the All-Star break with more than just a tan; you came back with—and as—a fiancé.”

Mitch does nothing to dim his megawatt smile or to dull the sparkle in his eyes. The mere mention of you coaxes out an impossibly giddier version of himself, unencumbered by the stress and pressure of a waning season. It’s always been that way.

It's difficult to remember a time before you. He doesn't want to.

Despite of meeting on arguably one of the worst nights of his life, somehow, all he feels when the memory rises to the surface of his mind is joy.

He remembers your laughter, warm and buoyant, and the way the low light painted flattering shadows across your kind face as you spoke animatedly about your passions and dreams. He remembers being treated like a person before anything else, not some character in a video game or a pawn in someone else’s fantasy league, and he recalls your fervent, genuine interest in his off-ice hobbies. Not once did you ask anything invasive or demand he share more than he was willing.

Nor did you fish for tickets.

For Mitch, privacy was paramount, and the sentiment echoed throughout your lengthy relationship. It was your through-line, and it should’ve blanketed the intimate proposal in safety.

He gets hot under the collar just thinking about it.

Mitch will entertain the host’s questions to an extent. Because, despite his insistence on privacy, he will never pass up an opportunity to sing your praises or brag about his luck.

“Did you bring anything else back? Any special souvenir to commemorate such a momentous occasion?”

Mitch is instantly hard, his pale cheeks ablaze, eternally grateful that the camera is filming from the chest up.

Carried in on a warm evening breeze, the evocation is so palpable he can taste the blue curaçao on his tongue and feel its muted burn in the back of his throat. The air smells of pineapple and your fragrant shampoo, a comforting scent that clings to him like a second skin. The phantom of your touch sends a shiver down the expanse of his sore, sweat-drenched back.

“—holy fuck.”

The crinkled, two-word curse tumbles from Mitch’s mouth with little effort.

Every modicum of tact was either battling against the warm rum coursing through his body or fighting to keep his guttural, damning moans at bay.

They are getting hot and heavy on a patio, after all.

Mitch knows this isn’t smart. He knows he should’ve moved the celebration indoors, that he should've waited until you were curtained in safety to give in to his desire and your wandering hands.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

The problem is he just doesn’t care.

Mitch wasn’t about to delay the appreciative mouth of the woman he was going to make his wife, not even for a second.

Even if she dropped to her knees with only a hedge to play look-out. A line of decorative foliage is their first and final defense, the leaves carelessly swaying between them and the rest of the luxury resort he booked for All-Star weekend.

It’s difficult to make sound decisions when the hand wrapped around your cock is newly weighed down by five carats.

The dazzling rock shines proudly in the concluding rays of a setting sun. Glittery and perfect, like the woman who wears it.

Mitch hisses when the tip taps the back of your throat for the first time that night. The sensitive skin melts into your tongue like an ice cube, the creamy droplets of anticipation swallowed greedily by your ravenous mouth. He sees stars in the cotton candy sky peeking through the palm trees.

It hasn’t been that long; his day began with your nose nuzzled against his pelvis, his head limp against the cool tile of the shower a few feet away.

When it comes to you, nothing is ever enough to curb his appetite.

Always needy, never satiated—a pair of perverted peas in a pod.

Your tongue repeats the delicious motion it had previously, too, lazily tracing along the underside of his length until he’s whimpering with no regard for anything besides spilling himself down your throat. He feels you smile around his thickness, pleased by the ease of his undoing. You were damn good; you deserved to be proud.

In all honesty, it took very little effort on your part to make him weak in both his knees and in his resolve.

However, there was a special kind of magic in your pretty face, now dusted by a salty sheen, nestled against his taut abdomen, his cock engulfed by the vice-grip of your throat.

Mitch is close already.

White-hot sparks descend through his quads and calves to zap his sandy toes. Electrified, his hips sputter of their own volition, but like the godsend you are, you accommodate every jolt and tilt in stride.

With one hand braced against his hip and the other gently massaging the heavy weight of his balls cradled in your palm, you peer up at him through a fan of fluttering lashes.

He whines—at the mischievous glint in your glassy eyes or the bite of your manicure as you sink your nails into his burnt skin, he can’t be sure.

Some of your fingers curl into the nasty bruise eating up his lower back, the by-product of a gruesome communion with the ice a few days prior. Sharp nails nip at the fragile skin. Mitch doesn’t know if the twinge of pain was intentional on your part, but he loves it either way. Perhaps a little too much, he thinks to himself as he twitches violently in your grasp.

And perhaps you aren't the only one with a masochistic streak. It's clear from the heaviness of your lids the converse applies to you.

His sweetheart's sick and sadistic. He's never been prouder.

“Get off,” he husks. Abruptly, he steps out from your embrace.

In retrospect, Mitch could’ve been nicer about it. At that moment, however, he was far too desperate for chivalry.

Staring down at your wide, despondent eyes—a pup deprived of her favorite bone—your fiancé amends, “Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll give it back soon. There’s no way in hell I’m wasting a load in your mouth when I know how good your pussy feels around my cock.”

Heat scales Mitch’s spine as he spreads you wide open against the chaise. Your folds glow brighter than the jewelry on your left hand.

With the tip of his finger, he tests the waters. Gingerly, at first, like he's still unsure you'll be able to take him. That charade hardly lasts, but tonight, it's barely a blip.

Your body eagerly welcomes the attention, mouthing at him before sucking the touch past the taut, elastic ring of your entrance. Your faint groans elicited by the intrusion harmonize so sweetly, so perfectly, that Mitch’s eyes fall shut in tranquil bliss.

When your hips rock against his palm, they snap open.

Blinking at him hard and fast, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, turning the plushness a sickly shade of pink—of desperation. Tears crowd your lash line but never cascade down your shiny cheeks; they, like you, are impatiently waiting for reprimand.

Mitch almost laughs. You did jump the gun, so he can't fault you for expecting the corresponding punishment. But it's a special occasion—you're celebrating, so it never manifests.

And Mitch wants to do more than just spank you silly. Plenty of time for that later. A lifetime's worth of it.

Instead, with the flick of his wrist, Mitch encourages you to take your pleasure.

The subtle, tantalizing movements, building in speed and ferocity with each pass, beckon him forward until his sunburnt skin is close enough to burn yours. Feeling you beneath him, feeling his weight rest against your body, feels better than heaven, and he’s barely started.

Like before, Mitch is painfully aware he won’t be able to last long. Judging by how silky-slick you are against his palm, you won’t be either.

With his free hand, he catches your jaw and, with little resistance, tilts your head to keep your gaze from straying. Your mouth falls open when he slips another finger inside. Mitch grins down at your lust-blown pupils and the feel of your hot breath against his lips. He leans down and licks into your idle mouth. A third finger causes your bottom lip to tremble between his and your forehead to ease, every little muscle going soft and pliant between the cushion and his chest.

“Atta girl,” Mitch praises. His lips press briefly to your cheek before beginning their descent along your throat. The touch is featherlight and sends a shiver down your spine, coaxing your chest further into his. “—love seeing you like this, all beautiful and open. And all fucking mine.”

Mitch wouldn't necessarily consider himself a territorial person, and he can't recall ever feeling possessive of a partner. Until he met you.

It had nothing to do with trust or a lack thereof; you were his the minute your eyes met through the crowd, and you reassured him of that fact constantly. It was never you that needed a reminder—it was everybody else.

The men who openly leer at you from every corner of Scotiabank Arena. The NHL hopefuls in your Instagram comments shamelessly flirting as if he didn’t exist or wasn’t in the photo, too. The unprofessional commentators who found ways to sneak in a lecherous comment or two under the guise of camaraderie whenever they spoke about his prowess.

You weren’t some object to be won or bought. You made a choice, and he’d make sure they knew and respected it.

Sure, the engagement ring will aid in this up-hill endeavor, but a little due diligence never hurt either.

“Tonight, it's gonna take. I’m making damn sure of that, sweetheart.”

Your walls squeeze his digits in recognition. Mitch chuckles, dark and dry, against your shoulder. You might like the implication more than he does.

You two weren’t trying, but you weren’t not trying either. Seeing you wearing his ring—the one he picked and purchased—kicked him down a perverted spiral. Flipped the last switch, cut the final cord. He wanted to complete the picture. He wanted to give those good-for-nothing losers one more reason to keep their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Love for me to fill you in a way that’ll last? C’mon, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me how badly you want to be stuffed full of me, how much your pussy needs it—how badly you want to be heavy and swollen with my kid."

Mitch tends to your clit, keeping you borderline incoherent as he tickles your ears with more filth before you can reply to the first goading.

Your eventual responses are muffled by a long, primal whine.

When he has you swaying on the brink of collapse, he’s painfully hard against your inner thigh. There's an iridescent river pearling from the weeping head, freely flowing down to pool beneath your ass. It beams in the dim light like a beacon.

Transfixed and desperately in love, Mitch could cum right now. Just like this.

But staining a stupid fucking cushion would be more of a waste than shooting himself your throat. So, much to your chagrin, he, once again, retreats back onto his knees.

“C-come back,” you whimper with a loud hiccup. The choked sound is as pitiful as your attempts to reach for him. “Please, please, please—”

Satisfaction spreads over the bridge of his nose, leaving him rosy from one cheek to the other. He pins you with a heated, half-lid stare as he strokes himself.

His palm doesn’t feel as good as yours, but Mitch is grateful for that. He wants to drag this out. Instead of rutting into you like a teenager in the backseat of a car, or like himself after a long stint away.

That can’t—and won’t—happen if he keeps touching you. He has to back off before he loses his ever-loving mind.

“Stop being a tease,” you chide. Irritation weighs heavily on your voice. “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

“There’s something I want you to see first, you little brat,” he replies, adopting your sharp tone as he brings his open palm down on your inner thigh.

You shriek, but your eyes beg for another. Maybe he shouldn't have cut you any slack earlier...

He grants your silent wish with a matching blow to the other side before guiding his rigid cock to rest over your body.

And it was better than Mitch ever imagined.

He groans at the sight, “Can you see it? Can you, sweetheart?”

Mitch waits patiently for it to click in your mind, but the confusion that swiftly overtook your fucked-out features never dissipates. Eyes rolling, he shifts forward. Hand still wrapped around the base, Mitch leans over until the full length of him sits against your bare stomach.

Your body quivers over the contact, so he has to hold your hips down to keep you from wiggling and ruining everything.

“I know you can feel it, but I want you to see it. I want you to see how deep I get inside of you, sweetheart. All the way up…” Mitch trails off as his hands glide from your outer hips to the center of your abdomen.

His voice is so deep. So hungry. Your whole being—mind and body—goes weak at the foreign richness.

With tender thumbs, he applies pressure beneath his swollen tip. “—here.”

Mitch moves slowly at first, as if he'd just been sheathed inside of you. With each careful thrust, his stones caress your aching clit, all puffy and pouting.

It feels wonderful to be touched again, even if only in short bursts. But it's not enough friction or force to do much more than aggravate you further. Even when he picks up speed, it’s more hurtful than helpful.

Still, you cannot tear your eyes away from the angry, ruddy head dribbling out ropes of arousal or voice a shred of discontent. The opaque beads form a nonsensical pattern, but it's mesmerizing nonetheless.

If you were any less needy, you’d take your time running your fingers through the milky mess. Swirling around in the evidence of Mitch’s desire until you had enough to lick clean.

As if privy to your thoughts, he pins your wrists at your sides again.

Mitch isn’t faring much better than you. His eyes are trained on the shadow bisecting your middle. Locked, laser-focused. This little…exercise was as much for his amusement as it is for your education. He knows how far he can reach inside of you—knows how fucking fantastic it feels to be buried at the root, but seeing just how deeply he can fuck you is something else entirely.

It's enough to make him question why and how he ever stops fucking you. He’s an idiot for depriving himself. For neglecting you. An exercise in frustration as much as his fruitless effort to shun the rose-colored perversions dancing wild in his mind, Mitch has wasted so much time.

Fuck penance and fuck propriety—it would be a sin to do anything other than worship at your altar as a devoted acolyte. Cardinal, even.

His stomach tightens as he considers how empty you must feel in his absence—and how deliciously whole you must feel when he drives home. He wonders how forlorn your folds must look right now as he keeps what you covet just out of bounds. His body obstructs the view, but Mitch knows you’re open and fluttering around nothing, pleading for mercy.

If he were a cruel man, he’d ignore your begging and continue on like this until his balls were empty and your chest was covered in ivory threads. Lucky for you, your future husband is of the clement variety.

Before you can get another babble, his mouth is back on yours. He keeps your arms tight to your sides, so you’re incentivized to convey your fervent need for more—of anything, really—through your lips and tongue.

Mitch is greedy when he kisses you and needy while lapping up your fire—happily, and without pause. His head pounds like he finished a handle in a single sip, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Ever. It’s disorienting, and yet, he can’t seem to get enough no matter how much of you he drinks down. Mitch wants to spend the rest of his life drunk on your lips.

Begrudgingly, he tears his mouth from yours. Then, tanned chest heaving, he positions himself between your glistening southern lips. Mitch looks down at you, and when your vision finally focuses, his eyes have been shadowed in darkness by his hulking brow.

His prior impatience dwindles ever so slightly even though he's on the precipice of complete satisfaction. Mitch hasn’t gotten a good look at you since your nimble hands relieved him of his shorts some twenty minutes ago, and you are glorious. A celestial nymph with dominion over his heart, devastatingly beautiful and all-consuming in every conceivable way. The hold you have over him is dangerous, verging on obsession. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do or say if it appeased you so.

He isn’t fearful. He’s honored. The gratitude he feels knowing that you were, and remain, receptive to his devotion is overwhelming. And now, watching the lucid waters of lust ebb and flow in your glazed eyes, he’s never felt luckier.

Mitch thumbs the gem resting atop your finger, and you shudder as if it were the one tucked between your thighs.

His other hand lingers around your right wrist, though not as tightly as before. With his pulsing head shallow in your heat, he knows you’ll behave. Disrupting him now would only prolong his teasing. A lesson you learned—and were often reminded of—the hard way.

As his fingers trace the metallic band, warmed by the tropical sun and his furnace-like touch, Mitch pushes his hips forward, slow and steady, until he’s fully enveloped by your wanting walls. With your snug, pillowy softness stretching and constricting to accommodate his generous blessing, his grip on reality slips.

“You’re a fucking dream,” your fiancé rasps.

His hands are now splayed wide on either side of your head, effectively caging you beneath him as he builds a faithful rhythm. Teeth clenched, he works diligently to fashion a tribute worthy of your ethereal beauty and power.

“—always so warm and wet for me, just begging to be split open on my thick fuckin' cock. How long have you been this needy, sweetheart? Since I bent you over on the boat? Right over the railing where anyone could’ve seen you?”

You nod, bruised bottom lip pinched between your teeth. Tears well in your eyes.

Your afternoon tryst had been as quick as it’d been rough. Sundress bunched high, the fragile fabric wrinkled between your hips and the cool metal railing as Mitch’s right hand wrapped around your throat. His talented fingers pressed firmly into your sun-kissed skin, relentless in their torment, as he pawed at the pathetic knot struggling to hold your bathing suit in place. His mouth curled into a smirk as it whispered a heady mix of degradation and praise. All while you preened for him, a large crowd just steps away.

That wasn't the first orgasm you were robbed of today.

The hem of the thin material that clung to your anguished body floated demurely above your ankles, landing just shy of the bone. The sullied garment hid the incriminating evidence that inched down your sore thighs with every step you took. The irony was not lost on you as you walked back to your room.

“D’you know how hard it was to stop myself from fucking you in front of all those people? To hold back like that—to not bend you over and take in broad daylight? Of course you do, you sweet, sadistic minx. You always know how to rile me up—and you always find a reason to.”

Mitch grins against your lips before his teeth momentarily replace yours. They nestle into the grooves as if that was the expressed purpose of the faint indentations.

“With the way you’ve been behaving, I’m willing to bet you want a better souvenir than a gift shop tchotchke, hm? Y'gotta be patient for me, though—good girls wait for their rewards. Jus' wait… Oh, I don’t know, nine months? Give or take? Think you can do that for me?"

He’s being cheeky on purpose. He likes the way gentle irritation plays out between your legs—always has and always will.

Mitch releases your lower lip again, but only after he’s nicked it with his canines. A dainty bead of crimson materializes. Covetous, his tongue laps it up without pause. Painted lips kiss from cheek to cheek.

Your back arches. Your hips lift to rock in time with his thrusts.

“God, I can’t wait till we get those fuckin’ keys,” Mitch mumbles, almost absentmindedly.

The lean muscles of his upper body ripple as he sits up to grab ahold of your jaw, a calloused hand on either side. He has an unimpeded view of your dazed, saccharine countenance. His hips slow until they match the thumbs stroking escaped tears into your cheeks.

“—m'gonna take you in every room, against every surface. That way, there won’t be a single thing in our home that—fuck—that doesn’t remind you of me and how well I take care of you—you and your tight cunt.”

With little fanfare, he threads his arms under your dewy legs. Mitch uses the newfound leverage to tug your body even closer.

A shriek rips through the firm seam of your lips as his length traverses an unexplored depth. Your knees snuggle against the pit of his elbows, pleased to be so close in spite of the pain.

Mitch holds your gaze, reveling in your silent screams. He winks, then slowly lowers himself down until your body is folded squarely beneath his. Your muscles burn with the fury of budding resentment, which you’ll surely feel towards him in the morning after this unprompted foray into acrobatics, but the new angle is too good to do more than just... take it.

His hands are glad to have been relieved of their duty and, eager to take advantage of their newfound freedom, palm your chest as his mouth descends on your poor neck. The delicate skin is utterly defenseless against the desire thumping deep within his chest and spilling over his ribs.

Mitch wants to stake his claim—to mark his territory. A stammer of expletives accompanies the vulgar jut of your hips when he rolls your sensitive nipples, swollen and begging for attention, between thumb and forefinger. Bracketed by his forearms, you surrender completely.

Mitch hums at the lewd, sucking sound made by your arousal. Wet squelches ricochet off the adjacent wall with each and every thrust.

“I’ve really made a mess out of you, haven’t I?”

You nod, eyes pinched in concentration.

You’re close. He can feel your body trying to milk him dry. Fortunately, Mitch isn’t far behind. You feel too fucking good to prolong the inevitable.

He brings a hand to your clit, and it moves in messsy circles as he speaks, “Not done yet, though. Gonna flood this pretty cunt—gonna leave you all sticky and hot. I know you want it, but I need you to cum for me first. Go on, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You unravel on command, your chin falling to the side in ecstasy. Mitch’s firm hand is quick to wrench it back; he needs to watch your face contort as you crumble like he needs air to breathe. Mitch won't be able to think straight until he reaps the rewards of fucking and rubbing you through it.

The sob that wrecks your body is high-pitched and perforated by little gasps, and the rush of wetness is more pathetic than any noise you could and would make in your lifetime. More than you ever thought your body was capable of, more than your new fiancé expected, more than either of you anticipated.

He's soaked in a matter of seconds—as are you and the cushion dripping onto the concrete.

Mitch's climax comes in quick succession but, unlike yours, without warning. Undoubtedly, his peak was triggered by the gush of your undeniable satisfaction.

Drained dry, Mitch hunches over to capture your lips once more, determined to distract you from the inevitable bodily ache on the come-down. Delicately, he places your trembling legs onto the chaise and nestles into the space they vacated. He feels every little muscle twitch and spasm when he hugs you tightly to his body.

The world is muted, fuzzy around the edges, and drowned out by the aftershocks, so you miss most of his sweet-nothing rambling, but the relief and contentment that flood your spent body is reply enough.

He isn’t sure how long you stay like that—tangled together in paradise. You doze off, dipping in and out of consciousness, and wake just after the buttery sun slips entirely behind the horizon. Through the darkness surrounding your bare bodies, silvery moonlight replaces the golden rays of sunshine, but you—and your ring—shine as if nothing's changed.

You keep up a quiet conversation. Nothing of importance is spoken; it's carried on purely for the enjoyment of one another’s voice. Mitch peppers your skin, sticky from humidity and exertion, with tender lips, and you return the favor tenfold. You’re both smiling so wide, so happily.

And you keep grinning into the night, even when your cheeks begin to ache. It’s only when the light breeze ghosts over your bare skin that either of you consider relocating. In no rush and reluctant to leave your deep warmth, he’s leisurely about moving into the dim suite.

Mitch freezes abruptly. His stomach splatters at his feet when his mind catches up to his instincts. Murmuring. He hears murmuring. Terror races down his spine like an ice-cold chill. It's quiet at first. Almost as if the evening wind picked up a distant conversation yards away and softly settled it in his paranoid eardrums. He can’t make out any particular words—except his last name.

His mood sours beyond repair with the realization that the juvenile whispering is much too close, the giggles muffled only by the permeable wall of greenery bordering the suite’s ground-floor patio.

“We just wanted to be the first to say congratulations!” A teenage voice devoid of tact and respect calls out above a chorus of snorts and giggles.

Mortified, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. His chain is cold in comparison to your shame.

Mitch growls and reaches beside the chaise. He shouts something that would’ve made even the most shameless of shit-talkers blush, then sends a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon clear through the leaves. It shatters, and the crisp bubbles spill out on the concrete, sending the herd of inconsiderate assholes scattering like mice.

“I’ll go pick up the glass,” he sighs, knowing you’ll chastise him for the mess. "—later."

Mitch couldn’t be honest with the journalist.

He wouldn’t even if he could.

He shares so much of himself and his life with the world already—a hazard of the flashy, public-facing occupation he chose—and you’ve offered up far more of your world than he’d ever ask of you. He doesn’t mind a photo here or a video there, sometimes a press junket or two in a philanthropic context, but Mitch won’t bring the media into your private moments beyond where they’ve already encroached.

Especially not for a leading question intended to bait him into saying something stupid. Or to prematurely announce the impending arrival of your first child.

So, instead, he simply says, “Towels. But if the Four Seasons—or my future wife—asks, I’m totally joking, and I definitely put them all back.”

⤑ to my inbox💌

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gloomy-prince · 1 month

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SUPER OLD RAINBOW! ART THREAD!!! Open only if you are brave enough to face teen me's cringe art...

(mostly joking but fr white Mimi and skinny Boo jumpscare below)

Very first digital piece of Boo and Mimi circa 2011!! I was 14 when I drew this. Usually I'm able to look back fondly at super old art of mine but this one does make me cringe a liiiiittle bit. Mimi girl what are you wearing, why are you white. Boo also had pink eyes in the beginning, which she would continue to have for several years to come (even in the current iteration of RAINBOW! they were pink at first, I later recolored those pages) but it was only later that it was due to the color scheme of the comic and not because they were literally pink. I'm pretty sure they were meant to be contacts, because their hair is and always have been dyed rather than anime-esque natural colorful hair, so that was some crazy dedication from Boo back in the day.

More 2011 art showing off Mimi's goth/scene-ish style and green eyes. They were initially meant to have pastel and neon fashion senses, respectively. The story was already named at this point, only a few days or maybe weeks into its inception, which is impressive considering it has taken us literal years to name other stories (I'm looking at you, Phantom Pains)

this one is from super early 2012! Interesting to think that this was less than 9 months later since it feels completely different to me. The first version of the comic had started at this point, and the pink and green color scheme was just starting to develop. This lineup features some characters that would later be cut. Lucian and Lily were friends of Boo, and Cecilia was Mimi's ex girlfriend. Notably Clarice is not on this lineup, and frankly I'm not sure why.

A picture I drew to commemorate 50 fans on RAINBOW!'s smackjeeves page, mid 2012. Boo's outfit resembled a recolored version of her 2011 outfit, but I have no idea what Mimi is wearing. What. are. you. wearing.

Chibi-ish drawings of Boo and Mimi cosplaying various characters, from early 2013. Homura Mimi is very funny to me, I really don't know why I didn't draw her as Kyoko. I assume I was trying to keep them as paired characters, but I didn't do that with the Sailor Moon or Disney ones, so I who knows why I did it with PMMM. Mimi's hairstyle changes to a shaved cut somewhere around this time, but it is much more dramatic than her current undercut, and her hair is still pretty long. Boo is wearing a closet cosplay of Fluttershy that I myself wore once. These also resemble the chibi-ish drawings on the chapter intermission pages of RAINBOW! Vol 1.

A character study I did in late 2013, which would be shortly after I made a major style shift into the art style that would eventually develop into the one I currently have. At this point, Boo was meant to be fatter than Mimi, but the execution wasn't really there at all. There is also a doodle at the bottom of me and Sunny at the time (I am the one with long hair), expressing thanks for 300 fans on smackjeeves. Considering it had 50 in mid 2012, the readership was pretty slow growing back then.

outfit exploration for Mimi, circa 2014. At this point I started to expand the color scheme a little bit more so that not every character would be paper-white, though she is still very pale even though she is no longer meant to be white anymore. None of these outfits really resemble her current style, and I don't particularly like any of them either. It took me a very long time to settle on a fashion sense for her.

an Adventure Time-eqsue drawing of Mimi and Boo that I actually drew less than two weeks after the previous image despite the difference in things such as the way the hair was drawn. I had to include this one because it blew up overnight, which was a huge deal for highschool me, I remember checking my phone at school a lot because it was just getting hundreds or even thousands of notes over the span of the day. I think it has something like 16,000 notes. Still the post with the highest number of notes I have by far, so I guess I peaked in high school, whomp whomp

More fashion exploration, this time of Mimi and Boo, from early 2015. The color scheme is starting to approach what it currently is, but much more dull since I used to be afraid of bright colors. Mimi's fashion sense is starting to get closer to what it currently is, but the pastel goth influence that was popular in early-mid 2010s tumblr is apparent. In chapter 1, Boo wears an outfit that is extremely similar to the one with the bear shirt, except it's a rabbit instead. The dress that Mimi gives to Boo is also almost identical to the depiction of it here. This drawing implies that Mimi was originally going to be present in the film noir scene where Boo finds her mom, which is interesting...

Another cast lineup! This one is from late 2015-early 2016. Mimi is wearing an outfit pretty similar to what she wears in chapter 1 but with the colors altered. The execution of Boo's body type is starting to improve but she's still kind of pear-shaped. Mimi is also a little more square, and her hair finally looks like the style she has now. Clarice gets to be in the lineup this time and she is SUPER tall. I think she is still taller than Milo. And Mimi is around 5'7"-5'8", so Clarice must be around 6 foot by that logic.

The original version of chibi-ish Boo riding a bike in her Kiki outfit, from 2016. I think it was meant to be a banner of some kind, possibly for tapas or tumblr. A newer version of this drawing features as a chapter intermission drawing in the physical book.

The original cover for RAINBOW! from 2017. The color scheme is finally starting to get a little brighter! This is actually a redraw of an older drawing from 2014, I want to draw it again someday. Also, I was going by Rain at the time.

A drawing I did in late 2017 for a class in which we were meant to try digital painting and I went for a very simple approach. I like that Mimi's legs are a little noodle-y. This is also the first drawing where Mimi's eyes are no longer green, but dark pink instead. By the language of RAINBOW!'s color scheme, that means they are brown. Boo's eyes are still pink, however.

Another drawing for a class, this time from 2018. I can't remember the specifics of the assignment, but I used the opportunity to draw the playground and Max, the dog, for the first time. I like the way the trees look in this. That little snip of hair by Mimi's ear also made a reappearance here for some reason.

The original version of the drawing that would become the cover of RAINBOW! Vol 1, from mid 2019! I believe I drew it to be a banner on Tapas, but I used it for tumblr as well.

And lastly, Boo and Mimi outfit sheets from 2019-2020. I messed with them for a while, hence the timeframe. Boo's eyes are finally green, which I changed since I liked the idea of Mimi having green hair and pink eyes, and Boo having pink hair and green eyes, as if they are reflected a bit in each other. Outside of RAINBOW!'s color scheme, Boo's eyes are actually blue though. It took about a decade, but I finally settled on a fashion sense for Mimi.

BONUS ART!!! 💖💖✨✨ I thought these would be better grouped together rather than chronologically with the rest.

RAINBOW!'s banners from its era on smackjeeves! Smackjeeves didn't have square/circular icons but rather these thin long banners which could also be animated. I thought that was so fun, so I always animated them at least a little, even though one doesn't seem to work. It was customary to write girls love/boys love on the banner of mlm/wlw romance stories then, so almost all of them say that. I still see that trend on some comics on webtoon and tapas nowadays. They are from 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, and 2017. I don't believe the 2017 one was ever used.

And RAINBOW!'s icon throughout the years! I always refused to change it, only update it, because I thought it was really cute. They are from (approximately) 2017, 2018, 2020, and 2021.

And finally, art from 2021 of Mimi with her cousin August, who will be the protagonist of our next comic, Phantom Pains. Weird to think that we'll be on that comic in foreseeable future, since it is also over 10 years old now. Bit of a passing the torch type drawing to end on. 💕 If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading! Hopefully it was fun and didn't hurt your eyes.

#rainbow!#rainbow #webcomic #webtoon #tapas comic #lgbt #lgbtq #wlw #lesbian #lgbt webcomic #queer webcomic

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2-lines-and-a-circle · 10 months

Text

Getting hit by a water gun

Notes: A little kid was racing past you two, decided to shoot you both with their water gun. What is his reaction?

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

Informs the kid it’s not okay to hit people out of the blue like that. Of course, the kid dislikes getting yelled at and decides to shoot more water at Riddle. Before Riddle can catch them, the kid runs away to their next target. That’s when Riddle notices how soaked you are and uses his magic to dry you both off.

“Shooting with water guns is not appropriate when you’re attacking strangers. If you want to have fun you must follow the rules of the game, I’m su- *water flies into his face* Heh~ You’ve got quite the nerve kid.”

Ace Trappola:

Has a quick flashback to when he used to be that kind of kid and probably still is. Gets an idea and runs into the nearest shop to have his own water gun fight. Calls up the rest of the first years to participate. Losers have to buy everyone a meal at their favorite restaurant. Never drys you off, tells you that the sun will dry if off for you.

“I’m pretty confident I’ll be sitting in the winner's seat tonight! Hey! Why are you aiming your gun at me like that?!"

Deuce Spade:

Thinks it’s Ace at first then notices it was just a little kid. Doesn’t think much of it afterwards but sees how wet the two of you are. Informs you that running will dry you off faster since he heard a rule about it from Riddle a few days ago. The two of you start running along the beach like two idiots instead of two models.

“Isn’t it nice to run together like this?... Where did you go? *turns his head* _____! Over here!”

Cater Diamond:

Checks to see if his phone got splashed before himself, then takes a selfie with you to commemorate such an occasion. You stare in awe as you’ve never seen his hair down before. Cater says the two of you should leave your hair styled like this for the rest of the day.

“Whatcha think? Leaving our hair like this gives off a totally different vibe than normal.”

Trey Clover:

Checks to make sure the two of you aren’t super soaked, much to his dismay both of your clothes are dripping wet. Looks around to spot a nearby store, rushes in to purchase a towel, but just one towel. He’s so busy drying you off that he forgets about his own clothes.

“My shirt? Don’t worry I’ll try myself off once I’m done getting you all dry.”

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

Hates getting wet so he’s pretty irritated from getting shot by a water gun. You’re staring pretty intensely at Leona as he looks refreshing as you’ve never seen this side to him before. Asks you to dry him off which is when he notices how you’re both soaked, the two of you decide to walk in the sun to dry yourself.

“Y’know a way to clean this mess up? … walk around in the sun you say *sigh* let’s find a place to nap then”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Doesn’t really mind getting wet as he kind of expected it as he saw the group of kids from earlier. Says that it’s going to be fine and the two of you walk off to the nearest food stall. Due to his reaction the kids came back resulting in a playful reaction from Ruggie as he over exaggerated getting shot from them. Overall reminding him of the kids back from his hometown.

“Ouch! _____, help me I’m drowning from their attacks! Woah why are you the one taking charge now.”

Jack Howl:

Dodges before the water could even touch him, but results in all of the water landing on you instead. Tries to think of the fastest way to get you dried off as possible, fails in response. Eventually you use your own magic to dry off and you use your magic to make a small gust of wind in Jack’s face.

“Tch, I almost got water on me if I hadn’t moved…? My bad, it seems like all of the water went to you instead.”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

Thanks to the kid blurring his vision you get the chance to see Azul without any glasses on. You forget about the sticky feeling of wet clothes as you watch Azul clean off his glasses. Once he finishes Azul makes a point that you two need to dry yourself off, so you leave for the NRC.

“Staying like this is rather unpleasant, who would have thought wet clothes would feel this way. ____, let’s go back to NRC together. I can’t have you staying in those clothes either.”

Jade Leech:

Is quite intrigued by the act of shooting water in such a motion, chases down the kid to ask them more questions. As you leave to catch up with Jade you notice how he hasn’t turned into an eel. Curious you ask Jade how and when he turns into one.

“Curious now, are we? I’ll be glad to show you if you’ll join me in a game of water guns.”

Floyd Leech:

Also chases down the kid, he too would like to know more about the game unknown to him. Since you were both already wet you two played a few rounds, it was mainly Floyd shooting you though. The only times you managed to get him was when you hid somewhere.

“__________ !!! Where are ya! If you come out now, I promise I’ll shoot you only once!”

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

Looks like a refreshing sea otter. Jamil pops up to help clean up Kalim as he’s drying him off with a handkerchief and some wind magic. Then, Jamil helps you to dry off in no time. At the end of the cleaning, Kalim suggests you three to play a game with the other second years as well.

“I can’t wait to play with everyone else, right _____! Hmm, Jamil did you say something?”

Jamil Viper:

After cleaning up Kalim from the mess earlier he’s now roped into a game of water guns. The rest of the second years join in, but Jamil is constantly surrounded by Floyd and you who have teamed up. The same kid from earlier shoots Jamil in the face again, leaving him to be the first one out.

“Somehow, I feel a sense of deja vu from the unexpected outcome… it’s time to prepare towels for Kalim now.”

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

After getting shot Vil checks on himself using a compact mirror, while you anxiously dry him off. Due to the use of your wind magic the two of you now have crazy hair which is all knotted up. Vil isn’t too pleased, but he would much rather stay dry than be a soaking mess.

“Tell me, does looking like this amuse you? Perhaps it does, you’ve been laughing for a while now.”

Epel Felmeir:

After joining the rest of the first years in a game of water guns, it’s down to Epel and Jack. In the final battle Epel comes out to be the winner, but in that moment a kid comes out to attack Epel.

“Ugh! Who shot me! Was it you ___________? I’ll get you, just you wait.”

Rook Hunt:

Before the kid can shoot him, Rook closes in on the kid to inform them to not shoot people. Right after Rook has a thorough talk with the kid, he asks you to join in on a game of water guns. Before you can answer he shoots you with one he had hidden away from you. From there the two of you engage in a heated battle.

“Let’s begin the chase now! I'll be sure to hunt you down beautifully."

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

Idia’s hair didn’t go out, much to your disappointment. Searching for some way to dry off Idia you were shocked to notice a new spark in him. He was in deep thought about something and before you could notice he walked off. Following Idia, it seemed he had a newfound idea on making a water gun for himself.

“... What were you expecting to see? Y-you thought my hair was a blue flame this whole time?!”

Ortho Shroud:

Seeing the kid before they could reach you both, you quickly pushed Ortho out of the way. Of course, you ended up being the one soaked in water, thankfully Ortho managed to dry you off. However, he was quite curious about water gun fights, Ortho proceeded to ask if you would engage in one with him.

“Ahaha, you look like a huge mess, but are water guns really that much fun?”

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

Intrigued by the confidence of the little kid who shot the two of you he chases down the kid to ask to join the game. Much to his disappointment the kid had already been chased down by the twins. Seeing this you propose to play a game together instead, you also invite the fellow third year students who by a miracle say yes.

“Child of man, if I win against the others will you enjoy a sweet victory with me?”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia lets himself get shot by the kid and, similar to Ruggie, entertains the kid who shot him. Joins the kids for a light game of water guns before getting invited to join the third years for a game on their own. Totally owns them and destroys everyone.

“Oh, dear. Is that all you’ve got to defeat me? I guess that victory dessert is far away from you now.”

Sebek Zigvot:

Goes off on the kid, but he misses his chance as he takes one good look at you who is also wet. Decides to take off first so the two of you go off to buy some towels to dry off. Inside the store you pick up some ice cream and enjoy some as you walk back to the dorms.

“Hmm… you didn’t think you would see this side of me. What do you mean? Huh! You think I look like a little kid eating ice cream like this!”

Silver:

Protects you from the water and is dripping wet now. You notice how princely he looks, and he smiles at you saying he’s happy you think that way. Silver’s just happy knowing he protected you from getting soaked by the water. Seeing Silver is already wet, he gets invited by Kalim to join the second years to play with water guns. The two of you happily join the rest.

“Don’t worry about me, a little water won’t bother me. Huh? You think I’m dripping with good looks. Saying stuff like that… that’s quite a compliment.”

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rose-pearls · 5 months

Text

Flower arrangements

Summary : you find yourself in district four with the other victors to honour your fallen families, Finnick by your side.

Finnick is not dead and he will never be in my mind!

Taglist : @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open for every fandom)

The water is clear, the sun bright and a soft wind blowing through your hair. District four is still asleep, but you can hear everyone starting to wake up and get everything ready in the house.

It was a beautiful day to commemorate the people that you had lost. Finnick had told everyone about a district four tradition, where flower arrangements would be made for a person that died and they would push it into the water, as if to let the person go and send them to a beautiful new life. A few days later plans had been made and now here you were, watching the sun coming up with the smell of seawater filling up your senses.

“It’s beautiful right?”, you hear someone say behind you and turn around to find Finnick leaning against the porch. His hair is a bit of a mess and his eyes still half asleep which tells you that the man had just woken up but there is a soft smile on his lips that you will never get tired off.

“It is, it’s breathtaking.”, you say while turning back towards the view.

“There is a beautiful view but there is also a breathtakingly beautiful woman in front of it.”, a blush blooms on your cheeks and you roll your eyes at his words, a smile appearing.

“You’re an idiot.”, you tell him and Finnick hums in agreement before you feel his arms around your waist and a soft kiss is placed on your shoulder.

“Everything alright?”, he asks quietly after a moment of silence, and you sigh in answer.

“Just had a nightmare that I was back in the Capitol and getting sold.”, you whisper, and you feel Finnick tighten his arms around you, as if he is scared that someone could take you away from his arms.

“That won’t ever happen again.”, he whispers against your skin, and you nod slowly holding his hand in yours.

“I know, it just makes me realize that before we got here and that we took our time to rediscover ourselves I had forgotten what it felt like to actually be wanted, by someone I actually wanted.”, you tell him and Finnick nods in agreement.

“I know what you mean, it took me some time to drop the act I had always had, to realize that I would never have to do that again.”, he seems thoughtful as you turn around to look at him, his blue-green eyes looking into the distance before they turn back to you, a loving smile on his lips.

“I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through all of this without you.”, the honesty in his eyes makes your stomach flutter and you turn around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I wouldn’t have been able to get through it either if you hadn’t been there.”, you tell him, he had been the first person to help you before you had to go to your first client and was the first person to patch you up after.

“Hey! Lovebirds, we need to go!”, Johanna screams from the kitchen and you can’t help but laugh as Finnick rolls his eyes at her interruption.

“Coming Jo!”, he screams back but as you try to leave his arms, he tightens them around your waist, and you look at him with questioning eyes.

“I didn’t get my good morning kiss.”, he says with a pout on his lips, but his eyes are twinkling with mischief.

“We can’t have that, right?”, you tell him and Finnick quickly shakes his head a smirk adorning his lips before you bring him into a soft kiss.

“We need to go, or Jo is going to come and scream at us.”, you whisper as Finnick tries to deepen the kiss, but he shrugs his shoulders.

“Let her come, I saw her making out with Haymitch behind the barn yesterday.”, before you can process the information Finnick brings you back into a passionate kiss.

You are a little bit late at the meeting place, but Johanna simply rolls her eyes before going down towards the water.

The water is even bluer as you get close to it, and you enjoy the feeling of the sand against your feet.

The flower arrangements are taken out carefully out of the box Johanna had taken with her.

Finnick looks pained as he takes the one with ‘Mags’ written on it, and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Katniss takes Prim’s and Peeta takes the one with his family’s names written on them. Johanna joins you and the both of you smile at each other.

“Are you sure you don’t want one for your family?”, you ask her, and she sighs in answer.

“I grieved them in my own way, plus we didn’t have enough time.”, she tells you and you smile at her reassuringly before seeing a nervous Peeta behind her.

“What is it bread boy?”, she asks and Peeta rolls his eyes at the nickname, a smile on his lips as he gives her a flower arrangement, there are four names written on them and you recognize the names of her parents and siblings on it.

Johanna is quiet for a moment, and you can see Peeta starting to become nervous. After a moment Johanna takes him into a hug and Peeta smiles at the gesture, holding her close.

“Thank you.”, you hear her whisper, and the blond boy seems relieved that the woman didn’t want to kill him.

“Is everyone ready?”, you ask and they all nod in agreement before carefully setting the flower arrangements into the water and pushing them in.

They take a second or two to start drift away but second by second you see them drifting further away.

Finnick comes back to your side, and you wrap your arms around him, his arms quickly holding you.

“How are you feeling?”, you ask him softly, making him sigh softly.

“Better, Mags deserved a proper goodbye.”, his eyes are glassy with tears, so you hold him closer, hoping to bring him comfort.

“She would be so proud of you Fin.”, you tell him, and the man can only look at you with an emotional smile before turning back to look at the flower arrangements disappearing.

If you hear him whisper a soft goodbye to his mentor you let him do it in peace, simply holding him and being there for him.

There are tear tracks on everyone’s cheeks as you all hear the town starting to wake up and get started with the day.

“I baked a cake yesterday if someone wants some?”, Peeta asks, and you all agree starting the walk back towards the house.

Finnick holds your hand as you walk back towards the house, looking more at ease after the goodbye.

“Thank you.”, he whispers softly, and you look at him in surprise.

“What for?”, you ask and Finnick smiles softly at you.

“For being there.”, he says simply, the sun shines through his golden hair and you get closer to him.

“I’ll always be there for you, you’re not getting rid of me Odair.”, the words make him laugh as he brings you closer to him, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Good.”, he whispers before bringing you into a loving kiss.

“Hate to interrupt your sweet moment but the cake is ready and Johanna and Peeta have already started.”, Haymitch says with a smile and both Finnick and you look at each other with wide eyes before running up the stairs.

“Johanna you better not have eaten everything!”, you hear Finnick screaming quickly followed by a loud ‘Fuck you Odair’ from Johanna making you laugh.

It took some time, but you were all finally somewhere safe, a family by your side and no games looming over you. You couldn’t wait to see what was coming next, knowing that you had these people with you.

#hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #finnick imagine #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x you #hunger games x reader

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httpsserene · 7 months

Text

kinktober '23 table of contents

welcome to serene's f1 kinktober special! i do not know how many posts i will be doing for this event, but, reblog and save this masterlist for any updates concerning my f1 kinktober.

posts will be tagged with: # httpss :// kinktober 23

view playlist? ↴

upload 1 : charles leclerc / max verstappen x reader | corruption kink

innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things.

upload 2 : carlos sainz jr x reader | were/wolf shifter & predator/prey

for all people believe that werewolves are dangerous creatures, your wolf is pretty tame, even with some of his...quirks. this halloween you let him be the big bad wolf to your little red riding hood, while you give out candy to trick-or-treaters. what he doesn't know, is that you have your own trick-or treat planned for him after this– you're his treat tonight, but he's going to have to chase you first.

upload 3 : oscar piastri x reader | car sex & squirting

your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren.

upload 4 : daniel ricciardo / max verstappen x reader | overstimulation

you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. and then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

upload 5 : lewis hamilton x reader | tender sex & cockwarming

your husband comes home to his monaco apartment after achieving p2 in spain. from the texts you sent him before he boarded his flight, he expected you to be awake when he arrived. however, you’ve fallen asleep–but that’s not a problem. he’ll sneak into bed right next to you and catch a few extra hours of sleep. you’ll commemorate the podium come morning.

upload 6 : george russell x reader | vampire & hickeys/biting

george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well.

upload 7 : pierre gasly x reader | witchcraft

witch!reader and potions master!pierre run a shop to fulfill anyone’s magical needs. it’s nearing valentine’s day, and the shop is bombarded with desperate humans looking for love charms & potions, even though there’s no magic spell strong enough to replicate true love. oddly, news travels from a few villages over that there’s a potions master who managed to make a real love potion. pierre has to get his hands on it—for the bit, obviously. there’s no way it will work.

upload 8 : lando norris x reader | pussy worship

if lando achieved a podium at silverstone, you promised you’d give him anything he wants. he thinks about it the whole race weekend, and when the two of you are celebrating his second-place finish, he tells you that he wants to take care of you. you’re disbelieving–he takes care of you every waking hour. lando, on the other hand, said that with his chest. and he’ll prove it to you.

upload 9 : charles leclerc x reader | orgasm delay/denial

the 2023 season has had a despicable effect on charles’ self-worth. it pains you to see how he attributes ferrari’s failure to deliver to himself. you can’t stand to see him berate himself for things that are out of his control. when the emilia-romagna grand prix is understandably canceled, you start forming a plan. if charles doesn’t believe he’s as good as you say he is, you’ll make him internalize it–using any means necessary.

upload 10 : yuki tsunoda x reader | ab-riding/frottage

your mental state is suffering–you’re not sure if you can handle alphatauri posting another thirst trap of your boyfriend to disguise their inability to build a car that doesn’t break within the first ten laps. but, when yuki posts his own half-naked picture on main? he’s asking for it, at this point. clearly, he’s been spending too much time with pierre.

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snowsonlylove · 2 months

Text

Delicate (Inspired by Taylor Swift)

Pairing: Academy!Coryo x Gf!Reader

Summary: Coriolanus commemorates his first public appearance with his girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N. As Coriolanus feels Y/N’s head on his chest, he realizes how comforting it is to be loved as Y/N shows Coriolanus how safe she feels with him as she falls asleep before him. Coriolanus acknowledges this and he starts thinking of their future. This is the point of no return, the story of the beginning of Coriolanus Snow’s rise to power as the future President of Panem, with his darling future wife and First Lady, Y/N Y/L/N, by his side, being his pillar and supporting him on his journey to power.

Fic Type: Fluff (SFW), a little arguement in the middle though so a lil angst

Warnings: arguments, subtle manipulation in the beginning,lots of kissing, coryo being a lil delulu

Word Count: 1.6k

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Taylor Swift and her team.

I do not allow my works to be republished or translated under any circumstances. Any instances of this happening and YOU WILL BE BLOCKEDDD.

This ain’t for the best

My reputation’s never been worse, so

You must like me for me

“You are just adorable, sweetheart.” Coriolanus said while stroking his girlfriend’s cheek. Of all the words used to describe Coriolanus Snow, sweet or adorable never came to mind. Coriolanus was charming, of course, but he could never be so vulnerable. That would stain his prestige of perfection. However, the same cannot be said for his girlfriend (aka future wife) Y/N Y/L/N. A young woman who walked through the halls of the Academy with the biggest, brightest smile on her face, always respectful in greeting her friends and teachers, the epitome of elegance and grace.

We can’t make

Any promises now, can we, babe?

But you can make me a drink

Snow’s reputation does not perceed him, of course, yet he sometimes wonders… Why did Y/N choose him? Did she see him as a gentleman he never truly was? Did she like his sense of poise and sophistication? Or was she just sorry for him, given the circumstances of his family? Those are questions that are yet to be answered.

Dive bar on the East Side, where you at?

Phone lights up my nightstand in the black

Come here, you can meet me in the back

Their first appearance as boyfriend and girlfriend started during the reaping ceremony of the 10th annual Hunger Games. “Hey Y/N, where’s your boy toy? A little lost perhaps?” Arachne sneered while her goons silently snickered behind her back. “No, and he’s not my boy toy. You’d know all about boy toys, wouldn’t you Arachne? Considering the fact that you’ve successfully fucked more than half the boys in the Academy, attracting STDs left and right.” Y/N clapped back, hearing a male chuckle behind her as Arachne’s face turned furiously red and walked away.

Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you

Oh damn, never seen that colour blue

Just think of the fun things we could do

Y/N turned back to face her boyfriend, running towards him with a hug so strong, it made him stumble forward. “Hi” Y/N whispered silently while looking at her boyfriend with a lovestruck smile. “Hey” He replied while examining her face with his piercing, blue eyes. They were living in their own world and they were perfectly content on keeping it that way. The pair leaned down to give each other a kiss, looking at each other as if time was just a construct. As they broke apart from their kiss, a familiar sound was voiced around the room and they were about to announce the start of the reaping ceremony.

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

(Yeah, I want you)

Both Y/N and Coriolanus walked to their respective seats with their hands locked together. Dean Highbottom was giving Coriolanus a deathly stare a few feet away, looking as if he was thinking of something to sabotage him with, then walking away to his seat with an eerily smirk, giving Coriolanus the chills. Coriolanus quickly snapped out of it, looking at Y/N with a small but reassuring smile on his face while giving her a final, deep kiss before the start of the ceremony, making their friends behind them release wolf whistles, leaving the couple with their cheeks pink.

We can't make

Any promises now, can we, babe?

But you can make me a drink

“There has been a change this year,” said Dean Highbottom while looking around the room. “The Plinth prize will no longer depend on whoever has the best grades, rather it will depend on whoever is the best mentor, leading their tribute to victory” Coriolanus looked shocked as Y/N held his hand and rubbed her thumb over his fingers delicately in a reassuring manner. The couple exchanged glances as if to say something, then looking away with a determined expression, eager to support one another along the way.

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it chill that you're in my head?

'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate)

“District 8, Girl, belongs to Y/N Y/L/N. District 10, Girl, Arachne Crane” Dean Highbottom droned on with the assignments. Coriolanus looked around the room with an anxious look on his face, eagerly anticipating his assignment. The Plinth prize meant a lot to him, as the prize contained the money he needed to keep supporting his family, to be able to pay the bills, food, everything. Of course, Y/N knows about his condition, having visited his home and becoming great friends with Tigris and conversing with Grandma’am over their mutual love of roses. Coriolanus appreciates his girlfriend’s gestures towards his family, however he is in no position to accept money out of pity. That wouldn’t be a good look for him, and she knew that, so they kept this out of the equation in their relationship. “Oh you’ll like this one, Ms. Crane, the runt girl, District 12, belongs to Coriolanus Snow…” Coriolanus’s face turned from one of anxiousness to hidden rage as he glared at the Dean as if looks could kill. Y/N noticed how tense he was and knowing his situation, she held his hand tighter as she tried to comfort him.

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

As the hall dispersed after the ceremony, Y/N followed Coriolanus outside the Academy as he furiously walked away from the hall. “Wait up, Coryo!” Y/N said, exasperated from following his big steps. Coriolanus’s head whipped towards her as he exclaimed “How could I not, Y/N?! He knew how much that prize meant to me and he still did that! And for what, as a means to take me down, as a way to destroy my future?!” He looked utterly exhausted as he vented his feelings out towards his girlfriend. Y/N didn’t speak, choosing to walk towards him and engulf him in a comforting hug and stroking the back of his neck in a comforting manner. Coriolanus heaved a big sigh and his eyes started to tear up from the pressure he was feeling.

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

Isn't it delicate?

Coriolanus buried his head deep in Y/N’s neck as he wept from his unfortunate chance of winning the only prize he needed to help his family. After a while, his cries subsided as he looked up at Y/N with a grateful smile before leaning and capturing her lips in a mind searing kiss, making Y/N surprised by his actions as she tried to keep up with his ministrations. They stayed like that for a while, basking in each other’s love and kissing each other like the other was their lifeline before they pulled away, breathless.

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep

Are you ever dreaming of me?

That night, Coriolanus and Y/N stayed together in her lavish, pink room as she layed her head on his chest in a comforting manner. Coriolanus looked at his girlfriend, half asleep and as somber as she could ever be in his presence. It brought him great comfort and pride to know that she was comfortable in his embrace and not afraid of him despite his flaws. Coriolanus kissed the top of Y/N’s head softly as he observed her sleeping form. He wonders sometimes… Does Y/N ever dream of him? What would their relationship look like if they were away from all this chaos in the Capitol? What if they found a way to get out of the Hunger Games and lived happily ever after somewhere else, with enough money and a house full of their children? Maybe somewhere on the countryside? No… No.. That would be too far fetched, especially considering his desire to rule Panem and finally take revenge on those rebels who destroyed his home and killed his father in the mines. He would also take revenge on those who wronged him, who thought of him as nothing without his fortune.

Since he was a little kid running around the Snow penthouse, he never imagined he would want a future where he would be even close to a girl and producing heirs, now here he was, thinking what his and Y/N’s children would be like in a place far, far away from all this chaos. Would they inherit his eyes? Maybe have her hair? He doesn’t know, yet he’s excited to discover that with his lovely girlfriend.

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend your mine all the damn time…

Coriolanus never planned this, falling in love was beyond him and yet, it brought him serenity to know that once he ruled Panem, he would have his darling wife, the First Lady Y/N Y/L/N, by his side, supporting him the whole way. Her undying loyalty serves as one of the biggest motivations for him to win the Hunger Games, to prove Dean Highbottom wrong about his assumptions of the Snows. He would soon grow hungry for it, power… After all, it’s hunger that drives people desperate in this cruel, relentless world. As Coriolanus looked at his girlfriend’s relaxed face, he knew what he had to do to accomplish his dreams. He has to use Lucy Gray as much as she is using him. Use her, get rid of her, and continue on your way to the top of the food chain, with his darling girlfriend by his side, always siding with him and encouraging him on his journey to becoming the future President of Panem.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #Spotify

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fortheloveofwonderland · 26 days

Text

Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 23 FINAL | S.R

Previous Chapter

A/N - final chapter! This one skips forward a couple of months.

Chapter Summary - Spencer’s friends join him celebrating a milestone in his sobriety and Luke has a special surprise in store for him to commemorate the occasion.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - rehab, swearing, making out, lots of fluff. WC - 3k

Chapter 23 - Long Promised Road

Crescent Oak Rehabilitation Facility was more or less exactly what Spencer imagined a rehab centre to be like. It was almost eerily calming, his first few weeks here he’d almost been on edge by just how serene it was.

There was always some kind of soft music playing from speakers he often couldn’t even see. Meditation was highly encouraged, as were walks in the zen garden. Patients were required to wear all white linens and white canvas shoes. The only good thing was that he was here voluntarily, so if he wanted to leave he could. And a few times he almost did.

At first Spencer couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck he’d done. He felt more as though he’d joined a cult than checked into a rehab facility. For at least a week, maybe longer he considered leaving every single day. But he just kept telling himself, give it one more day, it will get better. Just one more day.

Around the middle of his second week Spencer found he woke up one day and didn’t hate it here. He didn’t begrudge getting in his white linens, he hummed along to the soft music playing through mysterious speakers and he actively joined in a meditation session. And ever since then he’d felt oddly at peace at Crescent Oaks.

He met with a therapist once a day, one on one, no group sessions thank god. He ate his three meals, he showered every day without fuss. He partook in arts and crafts, read in the library and went on nature walks. And not only did he tolerate it, he actually liked it.

Thankfully he’d gotten over the hardest part of his recovery in comas and catatonic states. He still had the occasional withdrawal and of course there were still days when he wanted to use. But they were few and far between these days.

He’d initially checked himself in for three months - he wanted to reach his six month milestone before he even considered going it alone. After those three months he had the option to stay for as long as he thought he needed. It was comforting to know he wouldn’t be on his own.

His old team visited every chance they could. Crescent Oaks allowed visitors every day between the hours of six pm and nine pm and he had a visitor at least four times a week if not more. Usually it was Garcia when the team were on cases and they would take walks together and chat aimlessly amongst themselves.

His wounds were slowly starting to heal, both the mental and physical ones. Of course his scars remained and always would but Spencer now looked at them like they were badges of honour, proof he survived the worst life had to throw at him. He was proud to wear them for the world to see.

Luke continued to see Y/N. He hadn’t told Spencer at first but Spencer could just tell. And once he got over his initial jealousy he had actually been pleased that you had someone like Luke in your life.

He didn’t let himself ask about you, despite the fact he was always thinking about you. Sometimes Luke would say, “I saw Y/N yesterday,” and Spencer would nod and smile and change the subject.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about you, because he did. But talking about you often left Spencer feeling miserable with how much he missed you and right now he only had the brain capacity to focus on one area of his life. And that had to be his recovery this time.

He still wore your bracelet. Maybe one day he’d take it off, but for now he found comfort in it. It made him feel connected to you in the way he hoped having his one year sober chip felt for you. It was some kind of reminder that the two of you were still entwined, bound to each other in ways even he didn’t truly understand.

When Luke had told him a few weeks after he checked into Crescent Oaks that you’d been to visit him while he was catatonic, he’d been at a complete loss for words. He must have disassociated by the point as he had absolutely no recollection of you being there.

He hated that he couldn’t remember something so important but maybe it had been a blessing in disguise. If he’d been conscious of you being there while he was trapped inside the shell of his body that wouldn’t move to his command, he would have hated Luke for bringing you there.

But knowing you had been there was comforting in a way, it meant you still cared. Maybe one day he’d get the chance to thank you.

***

Spencer was mildly overwhelmed at all the eyes that were on him, shrinking in on himself a little and wrapping his arms around himself. He’d never liked to be the centre of attention, but there was no getting out of this. He’d asked his therapist if they could just make it a lowkey affair but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“Trust me, Spencer, in the months or years to come, you will be glad you marked this milestone with all your closest friends.”

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, averting his gaze to the floor as his therapist stood and addressed the room.

“Thank you all for being here, this is a big day in Spencer’s recovery and having all his friends here means the world to him. Even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Jessica laughed slightly as did the others in the room. All except for Spencer. “He’s told me all about his long struggle with drug abuse and his mental health and I for one am so proud of him for getting here. The first six months are the hardest on the road to recovery and so I am overjoyed to be able to present him with his six month chip.”

Jessica cleared her throat when she finished speaking and Spencer tentatively glanced up at her, still chewing frantically on his lip. She was holding out his new golden chip, motioning for him to stand and join her. He swallowed thickly, pushing himself up to his feet and shuffling over to her.

“Uh, thanks.” His cheeks burned as he took the chip from her hand and rolled it between his fingers.

“Speech!” Luke hollered with a chuckle.

“Come on kid, we didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.” Rossi goaded him.

“After all we’ve done for you, it's the least you can do.” Tara teased.

Spencer finally looked up, glancing at the seven faces in the room. The seven people he loved most in the world who had gone to the ends of the earth to help him on every step of his recovery. These seven people were the reason he was still standing, the reason he was able to stand here today and proclaim that he was six months sober.

“I hate being the centre of attention. And I hate public speaking.” he scuffed the toe of his converse on the worn carpet. “But I guess I do owe you, honestly I don’t think I will ever be able to put into words just how much. Without each of you, I know for a fact I wouldn’t be here, I would most likely be dead. I know I’ve been difficult to be around, I know I’ve given you all a hard time but for some reason you’ve stuck by me and I am so grateful for that, you have no idea.

I don’t know how exactly I got so lucky as to have you all in my life. And I certainly don’t tell you all enough just how much I love and appreciate you all. To be able to stand here and say I am officially six months sober, I wouldn’t have made it here without each and every one of you. Emily, Luke, the two of you probably got the brunt of my frustrations and anger and I am really very sorry for that. But between the two of you, uh, you…” He got choked up and swallowed, closing his eyes as he finished the sentence. “The two of you saved my life. And I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.”

When he opened his eyes his tears overflowed and he noticed several of his old team had also gotten teary eyed. JJ and Garcia were holding hands, both crying as they looked at him. Luke’s eyes were glossy with unshed and Emily turned her head to wipe her eyes.

“I, uh, I guess that’s it.” Spencer sniffed, running his thumb over the chip’s engraving. “I still don’t know what normal feels like but I, uh, feel decent.”

The seven of them, plus Jessica, started clapping loudly, cheering and Matt even whistled. Spencer smiled, wiping his eyes with his free hand while his cheeks flushed pink. One by one they came over and hugged him tightly, congratulating him on this huge achievement.

“What are your plans, Reid?” Matt was the one to ask the million dollar question while they all crowded around him.

“I think I’m gonna stay here, just a little longer. I don’t think I’d relapse if I left now but I just wanna be sure.” He pocketed the chip but kept his hand wrapped around it.

“I think that’s both smart and brave of you to admit.” Tara smiled at him.

“We are so, so proud of you Spence.” JJ still had tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah alright.” He rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle. “Can we turn the attention on someone else now?”

The seven members of his old team looked between each other, slightly guilty looks on their faces that weren’t lost on Spencer. He frowned, looking between them in turn while he tried to figure out what was going on.

“What’s happening?” He asked no one in particular. “I’ve missed something.”

“I mean now you’ve mentioned turning the attention onto someone else, we do kinda have a surprise visitor for you.” Luke spoke, giving him a sheepish smile.

But Spencer could tell exactly what he wasn’t saying. His brain was so much clearer these days, it was almost working back at its full capacity and he knew what, or rather who Luke was referring to.

“No.” Spencer shook his head, his stomach coiling into knots and more tears flooded his vision. “No way.”

Penelope smiled brightly, tottering over to the door on her too high heels and slowly gripping the handle. Spencer stared at the closed door, tears rolling silently down his cheeks and he inadvertently held his breath.

Garcia leisurely opened the door, clearing trying to build the suspense, which admittedly worked. Spencer’s heart hammered rapantly against his chest, causing him to feel a little nauseous. His hands were shaking, he worried his knees might buckle beneath him.

When the door was finally all the way open, you stepped into view, teeth digging heavily into your bottom lip and your hands stuffed deep inside of your pockets. As soon as you locked eyes on him, your own tears overflowed but you found yourself frozen to the spot.

When Luke had told you over coffee one afternoon that Spencer was due to celebrate his six months sober and invited you to come, initially you’d quickly declined and shut the conversation down. You were doing well in the outside world, still living at the halfway house and enjoying your job at the diner.

You were keeping yourself afloat but the idea of seeing Spencer again was too much for you to even contemplate. Not now. Maybe not ever. You were eleven months sober, you couldn’t risk any bump in that road.

You still weren’t sure, as you stood here now, what changed your mind. Luke hadn’t pressured you to come, he’d never mentioned it again after the first time. But the overwhelming need to see him with your own eyes, to confirm he was in fact alive and ok had driven you to be here today. It had only been yesterday when Luke popped by the diner for dinner that you’d told him you would come.

And now as you stared at Spencer from the doorway, you knew you’d made the right call. Seeing him looking healthy and happy filled you with pride and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin your sobriety. You wanted to be sober alongside him.

“Y/N.” He croaked out your name, wobbling a little on his feet.

“Hi Spence.” Your voice cracked.

“We’ll give you two a minute.” Emily spoke on behalf of her team and the seven of them, and Jessica, left the room as you took a few steps inside.

The door was closed behind you as you cautiously approached Spencer. He didn’t move, seemingly frozen to the spot. You noticed the frayed end of your purple and gold bracelet poking out the sleeve of his sweater and it filled you with joy to know he still wore it.

“I, uh, I hope you don’t mind me coming. Luke invited me and at first I didn’t think it would be a good idea but…” you trailed off, sniffing back your tears. “But I really wanted to see you.”

“Are you really here?” Spencer choked. “I’m not imagining things?”

You smiled at him, cautiously stepping closer to him. You were steady in your movements as you reached out and took hold of his hand. You brought his hand to your lips and pressed them against his knuckles softly. The action caused Spencer to whimper slightly, even more tears now falling from his eyes.

“Do you believe me? I’m really here, Spence.” You were still holding his hand and he used it to pull you closer to him.

Your chests crashed together, and he used his free hand to wrap around your waist, his large hand taking purchase on your lower back while he kept hold of your hand in his other. You looked up at him and he was smiling down on you. You could feel his heart beating against you and you were sure he could feel yours. He bowed his head closer to you, resting your foreheads together.

“I might need a little more convincing.” His lip tugged into a smirk and before you knew what you were doing, you were crushing your lips together.

Spencer hummed into your mouth, holding you firmly in place while parting your lips with his tongue. The kiss was like nothing the two of you had ever shared before. It was a new beginning, a fresh start. It was hope and it was home all in one.

It didn’t last particularly long, but the passion between the two of you was clear. When he pulled back he kept his arm around you, but let go of your hand in lieu of cupping your cheek.

“I think…I think I’m bound to you.” You whispered shakily. “I probably have been since the moment we met. I think I meant what I said before about us, at least at the time I did. But I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Spence.”

“You don’t have to.” He stroked your cheek with his fingertips. “I think we were meant to find each other, Y/N. I think in some kind of fucked up way, the two of us are perfect for each other. On paper, two addicts shouldn’t work together, but I think we can be the exception to that. I don’t believe we will pull each other down, I think we’ll only raise the other up. Our sobriety is so important to both of us, I truly believe we can aid each other through recovery.”

“I think so too.” You nodded. “Spence, I love you.”

He felt his heart swell to double the size and he held you tighter, almost impossibly closer to him.

“I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life.” He confessed, brushing his lips over yours.

“I may not have loved you for my whole life, but I know for a fact that I will love you for the rest of my life.” You breathed him in, knowing that you only had a limited amount of time together for now.

“The minute I get out of here I am taking you to dinner. The most incredible dinner you’ve ever had in your life.” He smiled at you, chuckling lightly.

“I will hold you to that.” You laughed too.

He kissed you again, somehow more passionate than the last which seemed impossible but yet here you were. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers grazing the hair at the base of his neck. He moaned softly into your mouth at the sensation but tried to keep himself from getting too riled up. There would be plenty of time for that once he left Crescent Oaks. For now he had to keep it PG13.

When the kiss broke he looked you deep in the eyes, right through to your soul. It caused your knees to buckle a little and Spencer smiled, helping you remain upright. His other hand joined his first on your face, cupping it lightly and wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“For so long all I’ve seen is darkness,” he whispered, staring deep into your eyes. “But you, angel, you are and always have been my guiding light.”

With that he kissed you once more, all his love and adoration for you communicated without the use of words. You’d gotten used to your life being shrouded in darkness, almost grown accustomed to it in a weird way.

But Spencer had shined a light on you that was so bright it had banished all of your demons to the shadows. It wasn’t to say they would never rear their ugly heads, but as long as Spencer was by your side fighting them with you, it didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

“The darkness declares the glory of light.” - T.S Eliot

@tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator @elle-28 @academiareid

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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owliellder · 8 months

Text

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Author's Note: This chapter is a tad shorter, my apologies. I almost didn't finish it cause my meds started to make me feel real gross tonight, but I managed! I am determined and powerful and strong 💪

Cross posted on AO3

Session 4: Adding Details

Ever since the last painting session with Leon a few days ago, he's been a lot more lively. He jokes more, laughs more, and flirts a lot more. Specifically with you.

It's only been a couple hours into the next session and he's already called you 'sweetheart' five times. You counted. Hard not to when the man decides to put on the most seductive tone to say it, honestly.

You've begun to reciprocate Leon's flirting since clearly he's not one to hide what he's after.

"Alright Romeo, I need you to stay still and in position for just a few minutes longer. I don't think you want me to accidentally paint you with those goo-goo eyes." Watching his poorly hidden panic made you giggle, his eyes averting to somewhere to the right. "Actually I need you to keep your eyes up here, not over there."

Leon groaned and rolled his eyes before turning them to look back at the spine of the easel, doing his best to hold a lax expression. "You're making this difficult. You have the picture!" He complained, eyebrows raising as he gestured to the stand sitting next to you.

"Yeah but- sit still- you're making the same goofy look in it like you were before." Once he resumed his position, you walked over to him from the easel to get a closer look at his expression, humming softly all the while. Leon was beginning to sweat, mostly due to having to sit still for as long as he had but now partially from your sudden proximity.

After getting a good look, you walked back over to the easel to continue painting, to which he let out a small sigh. He wanted to get to know you more, he should've tried that before you started the actual painting, but better late than never.

The man kept quite for roughly thirty minutes longer while you added smaller details to his face on the canvas, using probably the thinnest paintbrush he's ever seen.

"Is that thing even adding paint to the portrait? Or are you just pretending to get me to sit here longer?" There was that suggestive tone again, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you as they began to strain, but you could've swore he did that cheesy eyebrow wiggle at you.

You shook out your arm to give it a good stretch before placing it back where it was. "It's doing something. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Leon threw his head back with a laugh at your response, causing you to give him a quick glare before huffing out your annoyance. "Alright, clearly you're growing antsy. Let's take a short break." You stood up from the swivel chair and rolled your shoulders back, cleaning off your paintbrush with the solvent sitting next to you in a small mason jar. You had a couple of the windows open due to the fumes of the paint and solvent, so no worries there.

"Thank god..." Leon stood up with a loud and exaggerated groan. He wasn't young anymore, holding even a relaxed position like that was hard work on the body. "Thought I was gonna lose my legs." The dramatics this man possessed was funny, you had to admit.

"It's not that bad and you know it." You set down the paintbrush and turned around to see him mocking you with his hand. "Do I need to circle back to calling you a toddler? Cause I will."

Leon used the hand he was mocking you with to wipe across his eyebrow before letting his arm fall back to his side. "There's no need for extremes." Your lazy eyebrow raise at his response was all he needed to immediately follow up with "Sorry, ma'am."

It didn't sound genuine, but you'll take it. You nodded before walking over to the bathroom, scrubbing the paint from your hands to the best of your abilities. You had to use dish soap since oil paint was hard to wash off, that oily sheen was a pain in the ass when trying to hold a paintbrush.

The painting was really starting to come along. You worked fast while still remaining diligent. Oil paints were difficult to use, needing extreme patience due to how slowly it dried, how easily it could smear, and how hard it was clean off. No matter how nice you wanted to dress for Leon, you had to wear your painting outfit: A designated cheap and oversized outfit you picked out years ago for the sole purpose of taking a beating. You would wipe off your paintbrushes onto it to avoid having to use a paper towels or a rag each time.

Regardless, you were still as cute as ever to Leon. In fact, seeing you care so much about your work to be covered in paint was only making him fall for you more. Oversized clothes looked real good on you, so good that he'd been busy thinking about how you'd look in his clothes, hence that nearly blissed out expression you had to snap him out of earlier.

You both decided to sit over in the living area, Leon splayed out across the soft rug to give his joints a rest. He'd gotten a good look at how the painting was coming along before assuming his spot on the rug.

It was non-stop compliments from him. You could handle compliments, you've heard so many over the years regarding your art, but Leon's compliments were different. Instead of only complimenting the art, he decided to slip in little comments about you directly along side them.

"I went back to the White House over the weekend to look at the other portraits you'd done..." He started, head resting on his arms as they laid behind his head. "Just to get a feel for how mine would look once it's done."

"Is it living up to the standard so far? There's quite a bit more that needs to get done, and then it has to dry." You looked down at him on the rug, massaging your hand so it didn't cramp up more than it already had. "There's no standard for you to live up to, sweetheart. You could draw a stick figure and I'd be blown away."

You laughed at the suggestion, turning your head to look out one of the large windows to try and hide your smile. Wooing a painter was easy, apparently.

"You're just full of little accolades, aren't you, Mr. Kennedy?" You sighed, resting your chin in your hand as your elbow sat on your thigh.

"I can't help it. Being painted by such a pretty girl brings out the worst in me." Never in all your years of being alive had someone worked so hard to flatter you. Every single comment he made included something that had you flustered and struggling to respond.

Leon sat up on his elbows and looked over at you, that smirk as clear as day. He loved the way you could barely handle yourself at his compliments. "What're you thinkin' 'bout over there, angel?"

You let your hand fall into your lap as you looked back at him, giving his smirk a soft smile in return. "I could ask you the same question, calling me all these nicknames and such." It was only fair of you to ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

A little caught off guard, Leon hummed and pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. What was he doing, exactly?

"Well, whaddya think I'm doing?" Yeah, that was good. Instead of answering himself, he'll just drag it out of you. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're flirting with me." Your smile turned a bit more mischievous as you leaned towards him.

"Well, you'd be absolutely right, then." He responded with a chuckle, lowering his volume so he could fall right back into a seductive tone. "I got lucky enough to get my own painting. Even luckier to have you be the one painting me."

You gave him a small "mhm" as you nodded your head slowly, your tongue peaking out to wet your bottom lip as you listened to him talk. It took awhile, but eventually you managed a reply. "So... what exactly are you looking to do with all that sweet talk, hm?"

"Take you out on a date." His response was fast and it caught you off guard. Leon was so forward with what he wanted. When it came to the few people you'd dated in the past, you had to practically drag any sort of info from them. Your silence had brought him to sit all the way up now, body facing you as he sat with his legs crossed. "Is it working at all?"

It took a couple more seconds for you to nod, moving your hand to cover your mouth as you giggled. "Yeah, I think it is. Might need to keep it up just in case, though."

"Bummer, now I get to distract you even more while you paint me?" You stood up and placed your hand flat on his face, gently pushing his head back as you walked past him. "I'll paint on you if you distract me."

The session lasted a total of five hours, pausing for a couple breaks in between. You were now thoroughly painted out; hand cramping, eyes straining, and even with the windows open the smell of the paint and the solvent to clean it off the brushes had given you a slight headache. Leon was definitely tired also, given he actually fell asleep in the chair.

You decided to call it a day at that, patting him on the shoulder to wake him. "Time to get up and take your meds, old man." Leon startled awake, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose as he reoriented himself. When did he fall asleep?

You had already walked into the bathroom to wash your hands off, giving him the opportunity to wake up enough to stand. He yawned, walking over to look at how far along you'd gotten.

The painting immediately pulled him from his sleepy state, eyes widening with shock. You said you still had quite a bit left to do and it looked like this? It was like you'd ripped this straight from the 17th century. Leon was in awe. He looked good in this- no, far better than good. You'd captured his likeness better than the photo.

Seeing the man staring at your painting with his jaw dropped after walking out of the bathroom made you smile. "You like it?" You asked quietly while shaking your hands out as you hadn't dried them off all the way.

"No, I love it. You've got magic in those hands of yours, sweetheart." Leon crossed his arms, walking over to stand right in front of you. You clicked your tongue at him before your hand in front of him dismissively. "I wouldn't say it's magic, just years of drawing and painting endlessly until I got to the spot I wanted to be."

Leon closed his eyes and shook his head playfully, chuckling as he did so. "So humble of you." He followed you back over to the easel, watching you cover up the paints you were using with curious eyes. "About that date..."

You cocked an eyebrow, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you continued to carefully cover your paints. "What about it?"

"Just wondering when and where you'd want to go." The man grinned at you lazily, doing his best to disguise how nervous he actually was. "Hmm.." You glanced over at the wall clock you had sitting far above the light switches next to the entrance door, taking note of how late it was. "I'm pretty tired and I'm sure you are too, but how about we order something to eat here?"

Leon seemed surprised by your suggestion, grin widening as he nodded vigorously. "Plus, I am not going out looking like I just got assaulted with a paintball gun."

The two of you decided on something easy; pizza and soda. Leon opted to wear one of your many aprons to avoid getting any grease on his suit which made for an easy joke about him being a house-husband. Even though it was a technically a first date, both of you felt so comfortable with each other already, like you'd known each other for years. It was strange, but in a good way.

Leon was easy to get along with once he opened up. He really was a charming guy, even managing to get you to laugh with those corny ass dad jokes he loved so much. How such a man had gotten away with being single for so long baffled you.

The same went for you. Leon felt like you being single was just a fluke. There was no way someone as talented and gorgeous as you hadn't been swept off your feet yet. It was selfish of him for thinking it, but fuck was he ecstatic about that.

It was about 11pm when the two of you decided to call it a night, the hours spent bonding over random, seemingly meaningless stuff had really loosened both you and Leon up.

"Am I able to come back tomorrow and see you?" Leon asked in such a soft voice, motorcycle helmet in hand as he the other rested up against the doorway leading out of the building. He felt vulnerable for wanting to see you again like this.

"I won't be here tomorrow, need to give my hands a bit of a break." You giggled quietly, holding your palm out in front of him for emphasis. "But I can give you my address if you want to visit. I don't mind."

Those butterflies in his stomach fluttered at your proposal, barely able to nod after feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket once you texted him your address. He tried to act confident, having gone over every scenario possible in his head, yet you'd gone off script and he wasn't quite sure what to do anymore.

Seeing how flustered he'd become, you waved him closer, smiling as he bent over slightly. Leon thought you were gonna whisper something to him, that thought alone had him blushing, but feeling the gentle press of your lips against his had him struggling to breathe. He barely had a chance to react before you pulled away, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you.

You reached up and gently patted his cheek, running your hand along the stubble that had started to grow back. "Let me know when you wanna come over tomorrow, alright? Give me a little time to get dressed. I've looked ratty enough around you."

Leon wanted to protest that statement, you were far from ratty, but you just shushed his stuttering and nudged him out the door, giggling as he stumbled down the steps. He kept turning his head back to look at you every couple steps, feeling like some lovesick teenage boy who couldn't get his feet to work.

He was a little scared to drive home considering how uncoordinated he felt, but he made it back in one piece. Once sat on his bed, all he could think about was you and that damn painting. Leon didn't know what he was expecting when it came to that, honestly, but you seriously outdid yourself in his eyes.

Then you just had to flirt back with him, agree to a little date, and kiss him? Do you even know how hard it was to hide his boner from you?

He really did feel like a teenage boy, a simple kiss having him harder than a rock. Not to mention the drive home was uncomfortable since he had to position himself just right on the seat or else the constant vibration from his motorcycle would seriously cause him to crash.

Leon was weak. He hadn't felt this way in such a long time, but he guessed the newfound attraction came with the subconscious acceptance of his retirement. It's what made sense in his head.

God did he want you, masturbating in the shower to you wasn't enough, he needed you. All he could think about was your soft hands touching him, his hands all over your body, maybe even those pretty eyes of yours looking into his as he loved on you all night long.

The age gap was a bit of a worry to him in the beginning, mostly being insecure about his own age, but that worry was quickly brushed off when you kissed him tonight. You were a big girl. You knew what you wanted.

Leon felt so lucky that you reciprocated. All he'd felt since his retirement was grief, guilt, and pity for himself. Now you had him feeling like he was on top of the world and he couldn't ask for anything more. This little bit of sweetness in his life was so enticing, and of course he was going to follow it for as long as you'd let him.

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rene-is-an-insomniac · 2 months

Text

"Shall we?"

Neuvillette x Reader

2k+

Multiple things inspired me when I was writing this.

I hope you Enjoy!

Moon Eclispe obviously is not a real Fontaine event. It's just my excuse to write Neuvi and you dancing at a ball.

The Moonlit Eclipse, a former ball given for the Hydro Archon and her people to commemorate the fall season, was approaching. Things were busier in the Hydro country.

Shops were packed with customers, while melusines and other decorations adorned the streets. Lady Furina travels to the streets, giving little speeches to her people to get them excited for the event. She performs a tiny twirl, which elicits excitement from the spectators.

The ball was a tremendously popular event that everyone wanted to attend, but getting inside was tough for anyone who wasn't noble. Popular Fontaine and paparazzi figures had an easier time attending the event.

Middle- and lower-class people like yourself needed an invitation to even be permitted inside.

Your position as a ticket attendant at the Opera Eclaisse was going well. Given the increased amount of people you've been dealing with, today's trial appears to be quite popular. The salary was good, and the atmosphere was often chaotic, but Monsieur Neuvillette always made sure you and your coworkers were safe. You sighed softly, hoping that nothing goes wrong today.

"Hello, ticket for two?" A foreign couple comes up with funds for the latest trail. They take in the Opera House with astonishment.

"First time here?" They nod as you proceed. "This is the Court House, often called the Opera House. Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Furina have their troubles here." You react by, giving them their change and tickets.

"Expect a bit of chaos, have a good day." You wave them away as they approach the door, until they notice a criminal being led out of the house near the other exit. He attempted to flee, but was apprehended and held once more. The couple next to you leaps and immediately enters the house.

Monsieur Neuvillette steps in for the next trial, past the man being led out. He passes you by just a single glance, surrounded by a pink aura. As he walks into the entryway where you work, his long white and blue hair sways in without a gust of wind. You gave a smile as you watched him pass you.

His expression changed today, and he appeared to be nearly happy. As you immediately attended to the next customer, a tap on your window disrupted the image.

As you exited the Opera House, the sky was painted in orange. The bell tower in the distance is chiming, signaling the upcoming hour. You stroll outside, exiting just as the bell rings its final chime.

A gathering of people gathered near the fountain to cheer for someone. Fontaine's famed magician performed for the audience, pulling a few items from his hat. It appears that Lyney and Lynette's troupe performed tonight. Squeezing through, you make your way to the ferry back to the city.

"So what are you planning on wearing to the ball?" As you waited for the ferry, a group of girls dressed in elegant attire chatted nearby.

"I want to wear a pink dress with those pearls." Another girl scoffs, suggesting that her attire will resemble that one. A little quarrel breaks out as the girls begin insulting each other loudly.

A few spectators glared them down, but everyone else seemed to ignore them. Things became more severe as one girl was thrust into you. She turns with a humble expression until she scoffs seeing your attire. "Honestly, commoner, pick yourself off the ground; you will look pathetic." The others join in, laughing and shaming you even more.

"Sorry, ma'am, but you ran into me.” You brought up their fight only a few moments ago. One girl's arrogant smirk faded into an ugly frown, wrinkling her brow. She approaches with a pocketbook in her hand, her voice increasing.

"Do you dare to speak back to me? You are nothing but a lousy commoner." She starts swinging and smacks you in the head. Wincing, you try to get away from her, only to return the wrong way, falling into the sea.

Your uniform and hair were immediately ruined, much to your dismay. "Haha, you really needed a swim." The other burst out laughing as you swam your belongings to the platform.

Grab your belongings first, then swim back for your cap. After getting them back to shore, you noticed something was missing: your wallet. Looking around, you see it just underwater.

You dive down and grab it, unaware of the incoming aquabus. As you emerge from the water, your face comes into contact with the approaching boat before you can fully think. Pushing you back towards the platform, squeezed you until you were hauled out of the water by the approaching bus. You were gently placed back on the ground as Elphane raced off the aquabuscar to investigate.

"I am so sorry." The purple melusine bowed profusely to you as they checked over your injuries.

"Please, board, let me take you to the hospital." "Ah, Monsieur Neuvillete, do you plan to return to the city as well?"

Is he here?

Monsieur Neuvillette attends to your injuries while Elphane ensures the boat is still operational. He assists you in carefully standing as she turns the boat right, allowing you both to embark.

"Uhm, Monsieur, I can stand now." He releases go, letting you stand. He looks at your figure before backing off.

"Uhm, you can enter now." The melusine stands at the top of the stairs before returning to position. You nod and swiftly find a seat toward the back of the steps. Monsieur Neuvillette is seated across from you. As the boat takes off, you stare out into the water.

You then sit silently as Elphane begins to speak. She asks if your trip went okay, only to receive an uncomfortable silence before moving on to another issue. You stare at your hands, embarrassed by what happened before.

"Uhm, I apologize if I made you awkward." He looks over at you.

"No, no, it's my fault for falling into the tract like that." You just wanted to curl up up somewhere where they couldn't see you. If Iudex noticed, he probably decided not to remark at all. Elphane continues her brief conversations as the boat glides back toward the court.

You hurriedly leave the dock and return home. You didn't hear anything else from the Iudex as you walked through the city towards your house.

In the days that followed, your routine continued as usual. Since Monsieur Neuvillette's schedule appears to be slightly modified. Now at work in the Opera Eclaisse, you see less of him. The people in today's trial appeared to be less full than normal. Due to those reasons, your task began to slow down after a few hours. During that time, you were tasked with cleaning the windows and entrance. You clean the windows and sweep the floor at the entrance to Opera Eclaisse.

People in the courtroom could be heard whispering and twisting their words. AYou continue your duty until you hear Monsieur's voice calling the courtroom to order. You started blushing as you remembered how you embarrassed yourself in front of him and the Melusine tour leader the other day. You hope not to come across him again anytime soon.

As the day's final trial comes to a close, the day gradually fades into night. You wait for everyone to leave the courthouse before carrying out other responsibilities. You work intently on your tasks as someone descends the stairs. As you look up from your task, high-heeled boots come to a stop next to you.

"Oh, you're working late tonight." The man you were hoping to avoid stopped next to you.

"Ah, greetings, Monsieur Neuvillette." You keep your gaze fixed on the floor, determined not to make another mistake in front of him.

"One of my coworkers got sick, and he asked me to take over his shift, as there was no one else to cover it today." He nods, inspecting the items in your palm. As the conversation grows silent, you stroll over and put them away.

"Is there something that I can do for you, Iudex?"

"Are you attending the moon eclipse?" You stare at him puzzled; certainly he was aware that this event was not open to people of your status, right?

"Monsieur Neuvillette, someone of my status isn't allowed into the ball without an invitation."

"It's a ball for those with higher social standing to attend. Someone like me doesn't have any space there at all." You speak while still completing your responsibilities so that you can look up and return home. The Iudex stands there, watching your movements. When you realized he was tracking you, your movements became more robotic. Why was Monseiur still standing there? You gave him an answer.

"Would you like to attend?" You halt, staring at him with wide eyes. He glances back at you, waiting for your response.

"I'm not against it." He nods as he approaches the Opera Eclaisse's front doors. You shrug, lock the booth, and walk home more slowly than normal.

The night arrived as you prepared for the ball. A letter came in the day before with a gift for you, and a ticket for admission. Monsieur Neuvillette telling you keep the mask with you, should anyone deny you entrance.

You chose your best clothing and made any necessary modifications before picking up the mask that came with your admittance. The mask was the same color as Iudex's hair. You hold the mask up to your face. The mask suprisingly complemented the color of the clothing. You take small, deep breaths to relieve your nervousness before exiting into the night.

"Welcome to the Moon Eclipse." One of the men in charge of the ceremony addressed the audience of aristocrats. You could see upper-class women conversing with one another, and Monsieur Neuvillette himself standing at the front of the gathering, cane in hand. The speaker finishes his statement as music starts playing.

You pick up your dress and go far from the nobles whom were dancing. You keep your head down to avoid drawing attention as you make your way to the balcony.

"Oh, I don't believe that we have had the pleasure of meeting." A man dressed in expensive garments approaches you.

"I am Duke Myris, and you are?" He makes a slight bow before reaching out his hand to you.

"Nice to meet you." You bow to the noble and give him your name. He gives a slight nod before frowning at you.

"Name.. I don't think I've heard of you. Are you a child in the house of (insert name)?" You shake your head as his face shifts to a smug one.

"So a commoner at the Moon Eclipse." His words drew the attention of the noble women around.

"A commoner?"

"Who invited them?"

"They could have stolen an invitation; it's fitting of them to do that."

The women and other nobility slowed the music, focusing their attention on you. Sneers and critical looks were sent your way.

"I was invited." He gave a tiny laugh as the women laughed behind their fans. Your shoulders stiffened as you attempted to prove your worth here. The truth is, you are aware that you do not belong, but you should enjoy it. Monsieur Neuvillette had personally invited you, after all.

The lords and ladies' laughter halted as the man you were thinking about reached you.

"Hello, is there any issue with the person that I invited?" You push the mask closer to your face while the others gaze on in shock. Monsieur Neuvillette approaches, donning an outfit more formally than he usually does. The mask he wore matched the clothing you wore. Seeing the connections, the nobility who mocked you apologized profusely before retreating.

"Good evening, monsieur." You bow to him out of respect.

"Good evening, I see you managed to make it." You gave a slight nod, grasping the end of the mask that was held up near your face.

"Thank you for inviting me, Monsieur Neuvillette." You were ready to walk away when he extended a hand toward you.

"May I request your permission to dance with you?" You swallow anxiously and accept his hand. As you start swaying, the music begins to play. A wave of happiness seized control, and a grin rose to your face. He whirls you around, and you followed in harmony. As you dance, your inner mind screamed with joy. You attempted to calm your heart, thinking he wouldn't hear it. He focuses on the waltz, seemingly not hearing it; the music stops as he dips you.

Silence consumes the room before erupting in cheers. You look up at the Iudex, the mask taken away from your face. His blue eyes stare down at you as he gently lifts you back up.

#genshin fic #neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x you #masquarade ball time lol

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ambermotta · 5 months

Text

Lokean Holidays

art by Sceith-A

With holiday season coming up across all cultures, I have decided to do a little something in honor of one of my own dedicated deities — Loki. Following the holiday theme (and looking forward to one of my favorite Loki festivals), today's post is all about Loki-specific holidays.

I will start off by saying that He does not have any known traditional holidays. We have no surviving evidence of any Loki-specific Holidays, and few evidence of Loki even being worshipped in ancient times.

So keep in mind these are all modern holidays that many lokeans (those who follow Loki) have adopted.

It's also important to note that not every lokean follows all, if any of these.

And lastly, I won't mention any of the usual norse pagan holidays, but you can definitely still honor Loki on those alongside other norse deities. It's just that they are not specific to him.

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Loki Fool's Day

April 1st

This was probably one of the first lokean holidays created, in honor of Loki as a Trickster and deity of Mischief.

It was proposed by Dagulf Loptson in his book "Playing with Fire", but I believe many of Loki's followers already thought of Loki during April Fool's before that.

Ideas:

Have fun

Play games

Make jokes and pull tricks

Reflect on Loki as a trickster deity and the trickster archetype in all its forms

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Lokabrenna

July – August (roughly)

The star Sirius was known to the norse people as Lokabrenna ("burning done by Loki", "Loki's torch"). The star would be gone for one half of the year, so when it reappeared at its highest point, that would be the date of Lokabrenna. Because of the connection to Loki's name, the day of Lokabrenna became a modern lokean holiday.

The date varies because it's connected to when the star Sirius shows up in the sky, so it depends on location.

In the southern hemisphere, Sirius can be seen throughout the year. In this case, Lokabrenna can be celebrated when it shows during both morning and evening, rising with the Sun.

You can adopt a date between the beginning of July to the end of August for convenience.

The following reddit post (at r/lokean) details one way you can find out the day of Lokabrenna for your location:

Ideas:

Prapare a ritual for Loki

Celebrate the comming season (summer in northern hemisphere, winter in southern hemisphere)

Meditate on Loki as a fire good and bringer of light, knowledge and creativity

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Loki Sponge Cake Day

September 4th

TW: brief mention of bullying

This holiday popped up in the community as an anti-bullying holiday. Basically, this happened because someone got mad at a lokean who got some store bought sponge cake as an offering to Loki and shamed them for it.

So this is a holiday to commemorate modern offerings and promote anti-bullying.

Ideas:

Anti-bullying awareness.

Get some store bought cake or other modern stuff to give as offerings and celebrate

Reflect on Loki as a deity of the Outcasts

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Loki's Holiday

December 13th

This holiday was proposed by Dagulf Loptson in his book "Playing with Fire".

This is because, on Dec 13th in Scandinavia, there is the feast of St. Lucia and the festival of light, which would symbolize the coming of light in the midst of darkness.

In his book Loptson states that he had asked Loki if there was a special day he could celebrate him, and the answer was Dec 13th, which he later learned was the day of St. Lucia.

So yes, this is the author's UPG, but it was widely adopted by the community.

In scandinavian countries the date also used to mark the Winter Solstice. As the longest night of the year, it was believed that all sorts of foul creatures would roam the earth, and the bringing of light could symbolize safety and the hope of warmer days to come.

While Loki and Lucia may not be directly related, they share a relation in the sense that they may come as "light bearers". Thus, many lokeans find it fitting to honor Loki on this day.

Ideas:

Celebrate the coming of light and Loki as a deity that brings fire, warmth and light

Give gingerbread treats, cakes, cookies, sweets, etc, as offerings

Celebrate with other Lokeans!

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Loki and Sigyn — 4th Day of Yule

December 23th

art by Ksenia Svincova

There is actually very little information on this holiday and how it came to be, and not many lokeans celebrate it.

So you may take this with a grain of salt.

From what I could find this one is actually tied to celebrating the 4th day of Yule and it honors both Loki and Sigyn.

It is a day to celebrate love (especially queer love) and devotion, as Sigyn loved Loki unconditionally, despite everything that he did and that had happened to him.

Supposedly, it also coincides with Saturnalia (Roman holiday, Dec 17th-23th), a day where social order is turned upside down — which is very much a Loki thing to do, as demonstrated in Lokasenna.

That said, I personally don't think the correlation with Saturnalia fits most heathens' practice. But Sigyn and Loki's relationship is highly defined by Her actions after Lokasenna, so I can see how you could make a connection.

Ideas:

Celebrate love, queer love

Pour libations

Do healing work and cleansing rituals

Celebrate Loki and Sigyn's union

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That concludes this post. Even if you do not work with, worship, or follow Loki, I hope you enjoyed the post!

Thank you for reading!

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