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tired-biscuit · 1 year

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general!kiba’s surprise when you initiate sex for the first time. watching him train that day had you thinking all sorts of thoughts about him, his speed, the way he moved so effortlessly. so gracefully. the way he manhandled his troops when they were sparring. has him growing desperately hard when you sit on his lap and whine about how bad you want him when you go to your room for the night. let’s you fuck him. which is an entirely new experience. let’s you set the pace as you bounce up and down on his- *gets yanked off stage by comically large cane*

- 🐀

BRING LITTLE MOUSEY ANON ONTO THE STAGE, BRING THEM BACK RIGHT NOW!!

18+ fem!reader / royalty AU

series masterlist

he tries so hard to let you have control.

but goddammit, it's hard. it's really fucking hard to just watch you ride his cock and hold you by the hips so that you can try and take him better, deeper, and simply do... nothing.

he watches your face as you straddle his lap and hold the tightest grip he's ever felt from you on his shoulders. he's reclining in the armchair that's positioned in one corner of your shared bedroom; the one that's big enough for you to sink your knees in now that you're riding him, and that he sometimes just plops on to people watch whilst they tend to their chores in the courtyard below.

feeling how soft the cushioning is underneath him as you slowly bounce up and down, kiba thinks it's borderline bizarre. he still isn't quite used to owning a house this big and with so many riches stored inside it, even less to having a literal princess, blue blood coursing her veins and everything, sitting on his dick.

but he certainly won't complain about it.

no, the pay is too good to grumble about, even if he has to risk his life to acquire it from time to time. the expensive furniture, limitless supply of food and drink and comfort are all worth it, too. so he watches in silence. continues to sit in his brand new armchair like he's a king lounging on his throne, despite the fact that that's what your father's job is supposed to be.

and as for the king's daughter, well... the general just finds you adorable. the pace he's let you decide on is slow; careful. he wants to go faster, to take you in the usual fashion he prefers, which is in a much rougher way than this. wishes to ravage you until there'd be nothing left of you and he'd simply pass out from exhaustion right after and wake up in the morning feeling like his soul isn't stuck inside his body quite right. but alas, he can see that you're struggling, so he remains dormant.

and it's evident, your struggle. you've only taken a little more than half of his length and sweat already covers your brow in a layer so thick that it makes your skin gleam. one sleeve of your nightgown hangs loosely off of your shoulder, revealing your collarbone, which he's since littered with small bruises and bite marks, as well as the curve of your breast.

there are plenty of them, the love bites, because you've been at it for a long while. he's never been a patient man, but the moon that now sits high in the starry sky and drapes you both in its gentle light, can serve as his witness that he's still letting you do your thing.

though, his patience has pretty much run out by now.

because god, you're still so tight even after all this time; almost unbearably so. he knows it's because of the fact you're overthinking this entire thing, but the way your pussy squeezes him whenever he pushes into you by another inch makes him want to bare his teeth to the world and growl like an animal. to lift his hips and ram himself into you until you'd be so full of him that your little hole wouldn't even be able to leak a single droplet of his cum.

but he can't cum yet. silvery strings of your arousal and the saliva he's spat between you to make the job easier for you, now bridge the narrow gap between your bodies the moment your clit finally kisses the tuft of dark hair below his waist. he looks down at the contact and sure enough; there's a prominent ring of milky slick around the base of his cock when your hips stutter and you try to go back.

it's a small victory you've just achieved, albeit terribly short-lived for his taste, he thinks.

he supposes he understands the reason as to why; it's only been a short while since he's taken your virginity, after all. your most intimate parts are still sensitive, and the deep angle the position provides, as well as the way his thick cockhead now strokes some inner part of you that feels soft and awfully tender - too tender - proves to be something that greatly overwhelms you.

he holds you in it, however, the position. with his hands still on your hips, his grip suddenly turns tenacious and his knuckles flash stark white as he fights against you to keep you exactly where you are. it seems like he's done playing your game.

"hold still," he says, his voice slightly breathless but firmly gruff. it's the same assertive tone he uses when he's talking to his soldiers.

and it's also the same tone he spoke in whilst he'd been on the training grounds earlier today; shirtless, golden skin dewy from sweat, body moving effortlessly despite its great size. his jaw had been set, and you definitely noticed a rather intense look flare up in his dark eyes when he'd spotted you watching. even his presence alone had become more intimidating in mere seconds.

perhaps it had been because of the focus, or the pesky need to impress that tends to gnaw on him as of late. nevertheless, he looked just about ready to crush the skull of the unlucky rookie who'd had the balls to take him on either way.

and lucky him, it seems that he did actually manage to impress you by the end of the sparring session, because you're here now; doing this. you've offered yourself to him by taking charge right after you'd kissed him passionately by stepping onto your tippy-toes and pulling him in close. until he was groaning into your sweet mouth and grabbing greedy handfuls of your ass right over the nightgown.

you couldn't help yourself. something about the way he looked so graceful whilst fighting and teaching the younger men had lit some wicked urge inside you which you just couldn't ignore from how ceaselessly it kept clawing at the walls of your mind. the way he fights is like a dance, despite that he's made it clear to you that he won't and never will spin you around the ballroom of your father's castle.

he's just so-

you mewl, your body squirming as if trying to get away from him when he lifts his hips up to test out your newly-updated limits and abruptly breaks your train of thought. a pout forms as you say, "th-that hurts."

"it'll pass," he tries to console you coarsely. his throat feels like it's on fire, god you just feel so good. "just... ah, just give it a moment."

your whining fills the room in an instant at the way he brushes you off, and it grows louder by the second. his eyes want to roll into the back of his head from the sensation of being entirely inside you at long last. meanwhile, your own want to nearly pop out of your fucking sockets because of the overbearing fullness he makes you endure.

minutes pass; long minutes spent by panting and exchanging messy kisses. you listen to his request as you stay still and try to cockwarm him, as he calls it. he's deep in your belly, throbbing and growing even bigger, hotter. it makes your pulse skyrocket, especially when he readjusts on the armchair and eases his grip.

the tip of his nose bumps against your chin as he makes you tip your head back so that he can kiss your throat. his tongue is warm as he licks the sweat off your skin. the amount of salt that he tastes now only makes him feel guilty for straining your body to its limits like this.

"ride it," he urges you softly. unlike before, his voice is a mere coo now. "when you're ready."

"how?" you ask, swallowing hard. you sink your nails into his shoulders again as if readying yourself for the ache, but when you roll your hips to test it out, it's almost gone.

"however you want," he mumbles, smiling faintly at the little gasp you let out when you repeat the same movement for a second time. his face is nearly buried in your tits from how closely you cling onto him. he could die as a happy man like this, truly. "just fuck yourself on my cock until you cum... i am at your disposal."

heat sears your face because of his lewd language and the way he offers himself to you so freely. you doubt you'll ever get used to it, but it's nice to know that you've got the big bad war general wrapped around your finger. "...but i don't know how."

he chuckles at your sudden timidness. "i'll help you."

and just like that, his hands guide you to a slow, sensual rhythm again. up and down, up and down, up and down - you're taking him entirely this time. pride washes over you despite the loud squelching noises the wetness that you emit now causes, especially when he grunts out a quiet, "good girl... good lil' princess."

and when his thumb circles your clit, it's like heaven opens up just to swallow you whole.

#i know i've said it before but i love writing about our beloved general sm jfjdjdjdj #like i feel so inspired idk how to explain it #once again my face is just like 🥺#kiba x reader #kiba smut #naruto smut #biscuit drabbles #🐀 anon #biscuit mail

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thepinklink · 2 months

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Have some more Rescue Ranch AU Time and Malon :D

Malon doesn’t sleep that night. Link does, head tucked against her chest and arms wrapped around her. It isn’t necessarily the most comfortable position to fall asleep in, but that isn’t what keeps Malon awake.

She lies there, listening to the soft snoring of her husband, and she relives that moment in the kitchen, over and over again. Blood on her hands, lips still tingling from his kiss, but the rest of her body was weightless and cold as the sheer terror made its way through her veins. Her brain keeps trying to tell her that she was merely overreacting, but every time it tries she remembers that exhausted, haunted look in Link’s eyes and knows she’s right to be afraid.

She can still feel the jolt of her right foot taking a step backwards in order to support his weight as he leaned on her. She can still feel the way he was just barely keeping himself on his feet. She breathed, and she stood there, and she waited. She waited, forcing herself to stay calm. It felt like an eternity before Link finally spoke.

“I’m tired.”

His voice was soft and hoarse. Malon swallowed.

“I know, my love.” She whispered. “But there is still more to be done. Just a little bit longer, and then we’ll go to bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t move right away, and Malon didn’t pressure him to. When he did move, it was to embrace Twilight. Their son had been standing, frozen, at the side, unsure what to do. When his father turned to him, he unfroze and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Malon smiled at the sight, and then went about cleaning the kitchen. Swiftly and quietly, the many bowls of dirty water were emptied and put in the dishwasher. The counters were washed off and disinfected, and the towels delivered to the laundry room. Around halfway through, Link attempted to help but she shooed him away, insisting he shower and change. He seemed hesitant at first, but he gave in, and Malon was even quicker with finishing her chore.

When she did, she was met with another problem: the half-dead young man still lying on her island counter. In the end, she had Twilight carry him to one of their spare rooms. They laid him in the bed there and tucked him under some extra blankets. Twilight promised to watch after him, and with that, Malon hurried back to her room.

The door to her and Link’s bedroom closed behind her with a soft click, and Malon stood there for a few seconds just to listen. She couldn’t hear anything over the shower running. She moved to sit ok the bed, waiting for her husband to get out of the shower, running through every possible scenario in her head, thinking and overthinking things she might say, feel, and hear.

Half an hour passed, and Malon got nervous. There was not a single other sound from the bathroom, and her husband was not known to take long showers. She stood up, padding silently across the room to the adjoining bathroom door. Her hand paused mere centimeters away from the surface of the door as she contemplated knocking. She ultimately decided against it—it wasn’t worth the fuss of him not hearing her over the water, or vice versa.

She opened the door and slipped inside the bathroom, looking around for her husband. Her stomach dropped into her shoes when she saw him, sitting on the floor against the wall, head in his hands.

She thought he might be asleep, and approached him warily.

“…Link?”

He flinched, and when he looked up there was the flash of a wild expression—alarmed, ready to defend himself—before it settled back into the same exhaustion from earlier. He smiled at her, but it was heavy.

“Sorry, I just…got lost in my head,” he said.

“It’s alright.” She told him. “I just worried.”

“I’ll finish showering, now,” Link scrambled to his feet, and Malon nodded.

“I’ll be in bed,” she said, stepping back towards the door, intending to give him some privacy, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“No.” He squeezed her wrist, and his hand was rough and calloused, but not in the way she remembered. “Please…stay.”

She met his eyes again, and the desperation there is something she’d never seen before.

“Okay.” She promised. She took a seat on the counter while Link stripped himself of his threadbare uniform, and Malon’s heart broke all over again when she saw his body. Littered with scars, some pale and thin, healed long ago, and others newer, pinker. A few were even still scabbed.

She waited, patiently, watching him and smiling every time he looked over at her, making sure she was still there. She started singing, at some point, and she saw him visibly relax as she did, and so she kept it up until he turned off the water and silenced her with another unexpected kiss.

She smiled at him again when he broke away, as big as she could, as if that would fix that emptiness in his eyes. It didn’t, not fully, but she saw the light in them return, if only for a moment. She took the brief moment while Link was brushing his teeth and getting dressed to rinse off—she was, acter all, still covered in the blood of the injured boy, and then the couple were finally able to retire to the bed.

Link immediately wrapped her in a hug, pulling her close and breathing her in. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the nape of her neck, and then rested his head on her chest. He was so quiet and still that Malon thought he had fallen asleep after a minute, but then he spoke.

“Am I dreaming?” His voice was heavy with sleep.

“No,” Malon said, carding a hand through his hair. The word brought her to reality, too—she wasn’t dreaming. This was real, she was really holding her husband in her arms again after four grueling years. She ran her hand through his hair again simply because she good, and felt the giddiness of it rising up in her. “No, my love, you are not dreaming. Not this time.”

“Good.” Link hums. “You are like a dream, though. One I hope to never wake up from.”

Tears pricked at Malon’s eyes. Goddesses, she’d missed him.

“I love you.” She whispered.

His response was merely a vague hum in the pitches of “I love you too,” and it made Malon smile.

And she lies there, and even if she is not able to sleep right away, even if she was not in the most comfortable position, she could have—and would have, if he needed her to—laid there forever.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #lu malon #lu twilight #actually got some twilight interactions here lol #rescue ranch au #plink writes

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abeautylives · 1 year

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Imperfect Moments - Chapter Seven

Series Masterlist

pairing: Jakexfemale!reader

word count: just under 2.4k this chapter

series summary: You’re in love with your best friend. His twin brother hates you. Or does he?

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, a little angsty (okay so each chapter is a little angsty), language, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, masterbation (f. and m.)

Recovering from the weekend proved to be a daunting task. Jake hadn’t left your apartment until late Monday morning and by the time you’d even realized that a new week had begun, you were so unprepared for work that you decided to call out of your afternoon shift.

With an entire day’s worth of free time now on your hands, you choose to catch up on the few chores that you’d ignored while dealing with… everything. Once the dishes in the sink are clean, wine bottles in the trash and your discarded dress plucked up from the kitchen floor, you move to your bedroom to gather more laundry. But when you get there, you notice you can still smell him. Breathing deeply and stepping toward the bed, you find that the scent of him is all over your sheets, your pillowcases.

The sheets don’t make it into the washing machine.

You don’t call Josh until much later that night, snuggled into those sheets and letting the remnants of his brother’s aroma calm your nerves. He’d left you alone after your last conversation, no more texts or missed calls and you figure he must have been satisfied that you were fine and would be willing to talk, on your terms.

The phone only rings twice before he answers it.

“Darling, how are you?” The name makes your stomach turn this time. He doesn’t mean anything by it, he never did and that truth has been solidified over the last two days. “You can be honest with me now that you’re alone.”

You let your eyes roll. “I’m fine Josh, really. I just needed some time to think.”

“Yes, I’m sure you got a lot of thinking done last night.” It doesn’t sound malicious, there’s almost laughter in his tone before it turns serious. “I really am sorry… for everything.”

Not ready to let him off the hook, you press him for more. “What is everything, exactly?”

“You know…”

“I do know. But you need to say it, you owe me that.”

He stays silent and you can imagine him chewing over his bottom lip with his perfect teeth, running a hand through his fluffy curls that have grown a touch too long. You hear him draw a deep breath in through his nose and release it on a sigh.

“I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way.” That’s not what you were expecting him to say. “I need you to know that I do love you, deeply. I just… you’re my friend, Y/N. My best friend. And you’re so special to me, bright and lovely and I don’t tell you enough.”

Your eyes have welled up, but you don’t feel the sadness you’d been anticipating.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved on Saturday. All of it. Before the show… after. I can’t believe I spoke to you that way, I- it was very… jarring to find you like that. With Jake.”

Oh god. You’re not sure that you’re mentally prepared to talk to him about Jake. “Josh, I-“

“No, let me get this out. I could never understand why he didn’t like you, you’re very pleasant to be around.” He laughs dryly at that. “But he had been very concerned about you before the show. It was odd, he seemed to be mad at me when I told him you weren’t coming. Imagine my surprise when I found you in such a compromising position, in the dark. It all clicked into place.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means, darling?” You don’t have an answer, you’re more curious about how Josh’s mind interpreted the situation. When you don’t speak, he fills in the blanks.

“He’s attracted to you. Sneaky bastard, he’s been hiding it all this time. The two of you are quite similar.”

“Attracted” to you? It occurs to you that Jake hasn’t told him what actually happened in the hallway.

“Have you talked to him?” About me, did he talk about me?

“I have… What are you digging for? Wanna know if he told me about his romp in your sheets?” Your jaw drops and though he can’t see it, he’s said it for exactly that reaction. “I’m joking.”

Nervous laughter bubbles from your throat.

“He did talk to me about you. Not about that though, I promise. He assured me that you had a nice evening and that you seemed to be okay, ya know, after everything that happened. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Am I?

“Yes. I am, I swear. Are we okay Josh?”

“You tell me darling.”

“I want us to be. I miss my best friend…” You mean it with all your heart, though your feelings are shifting as you speak. It’s not possible to fall out of love with someone overnight, you think, but this particular overnight spent in the arms of his twin has changed things.

“I miss mine too. Can I see you? Soon?”

“Yeah.. um, I called out of work today so I’ll probably have to go in on my day off. Maybe this weekend?”

“Called out of work huh, that’s not like you. What did my brother do to you?”

Fucked my brains out, let me get a little drunk, made love to me in the morning… “Not funny.”

His laughter is sharp and genuine and you join him in it. “This weekend, we’ll do something. Don’t be a stranger, darling, please?”

“I won’t, I promise. Talk soon?”

“We will. Sleep well Y/N.”

“You too… goodnight Josh.”

When the call ends, a sigh of relief whooshes from your lungs. As you roll to plug your phone in, you see some missed texts.

Jake K: I hope you had a good day

Jake K: And night. Sleep well Y/N

It’s alarming how similar they are, especially when you’ve spent so long thinking they were complete opposites. You know you need to catch up on sleep, but you can’t resist unplugging it and answering him.

Me: I did, and I will. I hope you do too ☺️

The bubble indicating his incoming reply appears immediately.

Jake K: I think I’d sleep better with your ass pushed against me

You laugh aloud at the brashness, but can’t help remembering how you’d woken up this morning.

Jake K: Sorry

Jake K: It’s true though, I wish you were next to me

This is a game you’re interested in playing, so you set him up for it.

Me: That would be nice. What would you do if I was in your bed right now?

It feels ridiculous but you hit send anyway, your cheeks already warm with self-consciousness. The bubble appears and disappears a couple of times, but instead of a text in reply, he’s sent a voice memo. Another laugh bursts from your lips, you can’t imagine any one of the Kiszkas knowing how to use that feature of their phones.

As soon as you hit play, his voice comes through the speaker. It’s low and deep, you think he’s probably speaking softly so as not to be overheard but you close your eyes and picture him. You have no idea what his bedroom looks like but you picture him in a king size bed, tan skin against white sheets, dark hair spread over his pillows.

“What are you playing at sweetheart? Want me to talk dirty to you so you can do my job yourself? Play with your perfect cunt until you cum on your pretty fingers and fall asleep wishing it had been me? I can play that game… if you were in my bed, I’d have my face buried between your thighs, making you cum on my tongue and fingers over and over again until you’re crying, begging me to fuck you. Shit…”

He’d trailed off and ended the recording, sent it just like that. Another text comes through as soon as you’ve heard the end of it.

Jake K: Come over

Me: You know I can’t

You almost want to, want to throw your clothes back on and speed to their house, throw yourself at his feet and let him do whatever he wants to you. He knew he’d have that effect on you, knew you’d be throbbing and wet from his voice alone.

Jake K: That’s a shame, I’d love to have my dick sucked right about now

The crassness sets your cheeks aflame but you can feel the material between your legs getting damp. You decide to test the boundaries of this conversation as you settle into your pillows and let your free hand slide into your underwear.

Me: I guess you’ll have to call someone else ☹️

Jake K: Fuck no

Jake K: Only you

Jake K: Eager little thing, no one’s as good as you

Your fingers are already tucked inside, pumping softly and soaked in your arousal, palm rocking into your clit. You need more, more of his voice, so before you can overthink it you’re opening his contact and hitting Call.

“Y/N?” His voice is still low, only barely lifting in question, and it sounds strained. You picture him with his hand wrapped around his dick, you hope that it is. When all he can hear is your labored breathing come over the line, he continues. “Fuck sweetheart, are you touching yourself?”

“Mm hmm… are you?”

“You know I am, dirty girl. Wish it was you though.”

“Me too, mmm talk to me, tell me more about what you would do. If we were together…” Your fingers are already hovering over your clit, waiting for him to speak.

“Christ, you wanna know how I’d fuck you right now?” You whine in reply as you swirl your fingertips over yourself. “Filthy, nice and dirty, put you on your knees and bend you over. Watch your ass bounce every time I fuck into you. Do you like it like that, love?”

His voice is rough now, gravelly. You can almost feel the vibration of it as your fingers pick up speed.

“Yeah, I fucking love it.” You can hear his breaths, rapid and shallow and you picture his grip on his cock getting tighter as he works himself over. “More.”

He grunts in response. “I’d mark you up, with my teeth, my hands. Bright red prints on your ass and thighs, paint your throat purple. Everyone would know what you let me do.”

“I want them to know,” a low moan rips from your lips at the thought of it, of everyone seeing the evidence of where he’d been.

“Yeah? Want the world to know I’m yours and I’d do anything to make you cum? All the dirty things you want, anything to make you happy.”

“Fuck baby,” his breath hitches and releases on a long groan when you say it, “Are you close? Want you to cum with me…”

“So close, wish I could see you right now, watch you making a mess all over your hand, know you look absolutely sinful.”

“Jake, Jake I’m gonna- I’m cumming, fuck. Jaaaake…” The way his name squeezes its way from deep in your throat has his hips bucking to meet his fist and he’s letting go with you, his release hitting his stomach and spilling over his fingers.

You both stay quiet as you catch your breath, listen to each other draw in air and release it. Now that it’s over, you’re not sure what to say.

“That was a nice surprise sweetheart. Didn’t know I’d be into phone sex.” He chuckles warmly and you smile to yourself.

“Me either…”

“You’ve never done that before? You just called me with your hand in your panties on a whim?” The genuine surprise in his voice almost makes you feel proud of yourself. You’ve shocked him for once.

“It seemed appropriate. Your voice memo… I just thought-“

“Don’t second guess yourself now, that was so fucking hot. What am I gonna do with you?”

Whatever you want. “I dunno, I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”

“Yeah… yeah I suppose you’re right. You going to bed now?” His voice is laced with fatigue already, and you can feel it taking over your body as well.

“I am, you should too. Get your beauty rest.”

“You calling me ugly, Y/L/N?”

“I could never…” A pleased hum hits your ear as you both recollect the night before. “Can I see you soon?”

“Whenever you want. Say the word and I’ll be there.”

“This week? I have to work but we could have dinner, or something… I’m supposed to hang out with Josh this weekend.” As soon as you say it you think it’s going to put a damper on the close of this conversation, but he smiles before replying.

“Good, that’s good. You talked to him?”

“I did, it went well. Did you… tell him anything? About us?”

He did, but left out the gritty details. He’d also ripped into Josh for how poorly he’d treated you, how he’d disrespected your request that he leave you alone. Josh had scoffed in offense, told Jake to mind his own business.

It is my fucking business now, Josh. You hurt her, and you need to make it right. She deserves better.

“I told him that you needed a friend, that I wanted to be there for you.”

“I’m sure he was confused. He thought you hated me too, ya know.”

Is that what you were doing at her place all night, giving her “better?” Is this like… a thing now?

“He had… concerns. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Seriously, I can hear you worrying about it.” When you giggle and follow it up with a yawn, he yawns in return. “Go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

“Okay pretty boy, tomorrow…”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jake…”

You end the call before the silence can linger, before you let yourself cling to any last words you could stumble over.

Once you check that your alarm is set and your phone is plugged back in, you snuggle into your blanket and take a deep breath against your pillow. The pillow Jake had slept on. It still smells like him.

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Please let me know if you'd like to be added ❤️

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet series #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fan fiction #gvf fic #gvf series #gvf smut #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf

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wewontdieunbloomed · 1 year

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this is part two of unlearning the bad things i unconsciously learnt from last year.

part one was the negative default pessimism i fall in to, which i keep calling it me being emo which means i dwell in my “misery” for far too long, instead of trying to think of something positive to get myself moving out of the bad zone i am in. as we are often told, sadness and negativity gets comforting, it feels like you are protecting yourself. but one cannot see beauty in life and find joy for oneself if one does not make oneself vulnerable.

and so making myself vulnerable is what ive been doing. trying to romanticise this state that im in, a liminal space, at crossroads. its not the most ideal, too many things are unknown and for the first time in my life im dealing with having barely any structure to my days, with nothing to do yet so much i should do.

it took me quite a while to stop lamenting this unknown and start returning to the foundations i built this blog and my entire philosophy off, the whole concept of “lest we die unbloomed” of making sure i dont realise one day ive wasted my time. and in small parts i like to think ive made progress on that

the focus now is the second part. i lost a lot of my attention span and impulse control, and today i reached a horrible point where i am sitting on the kitchen floor at 9 with no dinner, having ruined my microwave dinner out of a lack of common sense. i am not sure if all this recent muddling is because of covid brain fog or the horrifying amount of screen time i have had recently, but i was so sick of it. i have done a lot of things on impulse recently, and though today i had a really fulfilling day spending time with people i havent in a long time, when i got home and im back to reality of the things i havent done and been procrastinating for too long on, i felt horrible. this need to change, i realised.

so this is part two. it calls back to one of the values i set as something important to myself, being honest with myself. i know what im doing now is not working. i know that even though i use my planner im not sticking to it. i know my todo lists are not helping me. then why do i stubbornly stick to methods i know dont work? i told myself a year ago i would not change my system if it doesnt need to be changed. i have forgotten that i need to change it when it does. how silly! so im changing.

so in the last 2 hours in order to get myself up ive written todo lists on paper instead of in my journal. used a timer for every single step from shower to sweeping the floor to brushing my teeth. enough lazing around and letting simple things occupy too much time. its a parkinsons law thing.

enough doomscrolling and opening instagram when i have nothing to do. im setting a limit for a block of time in the day where i am not allowed to use social media, pwrhaps not any internet at all. i need to make drastic change, even if it seems inconsequential. it might not be academic but its personal. and my personal life and what i want to do with my time is worth taking big measures for, because it should be more important than all that revision for exams i used to do.

so the point f this ramble is to clear things out with myself. make some sense of whats goijg on. have a direction. tomorrow i have an interview. ill come home and do the chores i have to. prepare for my afternoon activity. go for lunch and my afternoon appointment. go for a run. buy dinner. write my applications. research on uni stuff. read a book. and all the other tint things i need to give more importance to even though they seem inconsequential. it sa new mantra ive gotten into ever since part one of this. that “this is the way” this is the new way. enough lazing. its time to go hard and be rurhless. take things up a notch because when else can i do it? go big from experiences to measures i have to take to discipline myself. this is the way.

04.04.2023

#productivity #motivation #100 days of productivity #self improvement #student #lifestyle

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whentherewerebicycles · 11 months

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hello here is a scruffy little girl keeping vigilant watch over the backyard!!!! NO squirrels allowed!!! we got up at 5:30 but lord I slept badly… had bad racing thoughts trying to fall asleep and then just tossed and turned all night. woke up with a splitting headache but the mood is nevertheless good because after today I only have three days of this loathèd job left :)))))

I think part of the reason I was tossing and turning so much last night is that I was thinking about how much the rhythms of my life are going to change when I’m actually in a real job with a real schedule and real responsibilities. I feel absolutely positive that the tradeoffs will be worth it, but I do want to just emotionally prepare myself for the inevitable adjustment period where I panic a little about not having endless time to cook/walk the dogs for hours/lounge in bed. I think in the summer it will be fine because even if I get home at 5:30 or 6 I’ll still have plenty of time to walk the dogs while it’s light out… the hardest part will probably just be the winter when the sun sets at 4 and I can’t walk the dogs in the middle of the day. but I hope that by the time the Long Dark rolls around I’ll be settled enough in the job that I can arrange my schedule in a way that enables me to meet my human needs! like maybe taking very long lunches and working a bit later so I can drive home and walk the dogs during the day, or just getting the reflective vest & dorky headlight gear that will enable me to do long walks when it’s pitch black out at 5pm lol. and I want to not be afraid to use the hybrid option as needed—if I’m home two days a week, I can take full advantage of that time (and can really savor every second of daylight I get on the weekends). as far as cooking goes, I’m hoping that liz and alex will live close enough for us to cook together a couple times a week, which will make cooking feel more like a joyful social occasion and less of a chore I have to do at the end of a long day. I also think that I am slowly getting to the point where I find the act of cooking itself to be relaxing and fun, so hopefully I can continue to make it feel like a nice calming/centering thing I do for myself as the day winds down.

anyway the point is: big life changes always feel scary!! but that’s because on the cusp of a big change you’re always keenly attuned to the things you’ll be losing (because you have a concrete sense of what those things are) and not as able to imagine all the things you’ll be gaining (because the future is still hazy and ill-defined in your mind). I have complete faith that this change will transform my life in so many positive ways that the adjustments I have to make or the energy I have to put into creating new routines will be more than worth it.

anyway ok!!! I worked from 6:30-8:30 finishing up a project and am now taking a short lounge break before I meet with my lead from 9-10. after that I may have a few work tasks to complete, but if not I can shift my attention to other stuff. here are the things I am committed to doing today:

read through CT material and email him back

send JE a gentle nudge about job materials

unearth these plants that died and put them in plastic pots so I can return them

run at the gym! since I’m being oddly resistant I’m going to lower the expectations for myself! I just want to warm up, run 1 mile, and cool down, which will take me under 20 min. I suspect I’ll end up doing more than that but the point is just to get myself out the door and into the gym.

do all returns (kohl’s, target, old navy, home depot). my shameless bribe to myself is that if I do all that stuff I can buy yellow flowers, a cilantro plant, and a cherry tomato plant.

then I’ll check back in at work and take care of anything that came up before moving on to my afternoon tasks:

read through JS material and email her back

finish generating AU brainstorming prompts

walk the dogs for an hour (it’s deliciously cool out this morning so I might do this earlier in the day to take advantage tbd)

showerrrrrrr

talk to M/HL and book flight

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ghostsgerard · 2 years

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What was the process of becoming a tattoo apprentice like? Any advice for someone who’s increasingly considering going down that route in the future

okay

well first of all. if you are sensitive or looking for an easy job, this is not it.

first thing my now mentor asked me after hiring me on was if i was sensitive. now i’m going to say my shop is a lot better than most but let me put this out here first:

as an apprentice you are treated like shit. you are bottom of the food chain, you clean the bathrooms you do the trash, you do every single chore that’s asked/expected and then you are expected to do chores that aren’t asked, but if it doesn’t get cleaned you get shit for it. some tattoo shops haze you (mine does not) but be aware, they may ask you to do shitty stuff. frankly in my opinion any shop that asks you to do stuff like that is not worth it.

my shop will be hard on me, they’ll call me dumb nicknames and make fun of me, but the idea behind it is to toughen me up cause working in this industry you need tough skin and you never know who’s gonna walk in the door, so i get it, and they also want you to fight back even as an apprentice.

now, there are a lot more shops opening up, that aren’t like that at all. i’ve seen lgbt / women run shops that i’m sure the worst of the apprenticeship would be cleaning and shit, but i don’t have that opportunity and also my mentor is very very talented and everyone he trains becomes extremely talented tattoo artists who earn awards and shit. so i’m willing to be called a few names to earn my spot. this has been my experience!! but it’s not the same for everyone. (other artists in my shop talked about their apprenticeships elsewhere where they’ve had to eat bugs etc. and have said many times to me that my apprenticeship is considered beyond easy compared to others)

that aside:

do a lot research before hand, look up and memorize the different styles of tattoos, and famous artists. do some research into the history. tattoo artists are very prideful of their work and history, and not knowing the renowned artists and where is all comes from can be seen as disrespectful. (though a lot of this research can be done after you have the apprenticeship but some basics are good to have before esp styles)

get together a portfolio, this is the main thing! and it’s obvious. important note: IF YOU DO TATTOOS AT HOME DO NOT INCLUDE PICTURES OF THEM. DO NOT TELL THEM YOU HAVE DONE TATTOOS FROM YOUR HOUSE. There is nothing more disrespectful to a tattoo artist who went through the work of learning the proper way and proper safety than a scratcher. they Hate scratchers. if they even bother taking you on as a scratcher, they will probably make your life there worse and not let you touch a machine for a long time.

anyway, so after you get your portfolio, go visit your first shop! do research, make sure the artist you want to apprentice under is GOOD. you don’t wanna learn bad habits.

when i arrived (on a weekday, shortly after opening so i knew they wouldn’t be busy) i asked them if they were taking apprentices, and eventually i met with the owner (my mentor) when he arrived and he checked out my work and then he gave me a drawing assignment to do there. so idk if this is like that for everyone but i spent the next few hours (Shaking.) trying to draw this picture exactly the same. so be prepared to spend a few hours there and draw on the spot !

edit: OH and some shops will charge you money. my shop doesn’t, i pay him in loyalty/not leaving the second i’m done training. but some will charge you, hardly EVER will You be paid. so you may need a second job unless you’re in a position where you don’t need to pay bills. so there’s that.

um that’s all i can think of. hope this helps! lmk if you have questions i’m happy to help

#turning off reblogs cause i don’t want this to go around #g.ask #long post

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milktea-grn · 2 years

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I'm a follower since you were a 14 year old who likes cereal lolll, and I'm so happy for ur growth and seeing people finally notice the TALENT!!💛 I've been running an art account since 2019 and I feel like we have the same skill level, but I'm not even at a thousand followers and it gets lower every day. Is there anything u did to help with the crappy algorithm? Was it bc u joined a popular fandom, or are you like idk how tf this happened? Do u have insecurity about like & follower count and how do u deal with it?

OHH MY GODDD NO WAY THATS AMAZING the 14 year old who loves cereal oh my god i didn’t think there was barely anyone who was still around from my supermega days let alone the sadkid.tm days 😭 you’ve seen me go through so many embarrassing moments…

this got SO long so i’ll put it all under this cut!

first of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! i really appreciate that. and second, i don’t really have much advice, im terrible at giving advice 😭 i know how you feel though bc because before i started growing a little more, i was in that exact position of either stagnating, staying the same, or just dropping followers for no reason. However i was okay with that. follow count really doesn’t effect me. it used to when i was just starting out bc obviously you want people to see your art and all that, but i realized that it doesn’t matter as long as i’m doing what i want to be doing.

it’s so freeing to stop focusing so much on that stuff because it will begin to weigh on you and you start placing your worth, confidence, motivation, etc. all on your following. it gets much more fun when you start doing whatever you wanna do, without worrying about how many people are following or unfollowing you. the people who unfollow, unfollow! and the people who stay around, stay around! people will come and go all the time. i know i sound really kinda. pretentious right now, but i’m just trying to convey how calming it is to let go of that 😭 because if i still worried about that Now then i think the pressure would get to much for me and i’d either peace out by now or my art would go way down in quality because i’d be so anxious about letting any of my followers down, you know? obviously i have them in mind, and i love and appreciate every single one (/parasocial i really am parasocial for u all) but i don’t put my value all on them. its important that i’m passionate and happy with what i’m doing too!

but, i know that’s not how everyone feels and it can be easier said than done. I’m just saying that you should also keep that in mind. don’t let the fun get sucked out of you, don’t let art feel like a chore or a job! you get the point, all that, i won’t lecture you.

if you want more attention to your art, when i was starting out on really any platform i just used a shit ton of hashtags. on instagram i borderline Over tagged. but especially on instagram, when you tag stuff it’ll get on peoples feeds, it’ll be in the hashtags, it’s easier to get peoples attention. that helps a lot, but tbh i think most of it i have to thank to being in a big fandom that interacts with artists a ton, which i love, because not a lot of fandoms are as respectful and loving about art as this one. besides that, idk how tf this happened. especially on twitter because in my experience i felt like twitter was a lot harder of a place with art, so i don’t know how that happened but i’m definitely placing a looooottt a lot of the credit to being in a bigger fandom 😭 and i love that because i like it here Most of the time

i’m sorry i just word vomited, idk what i’m talking about but i hope this could help even a little bit ;; thank you so much again thank you for sticking around so long <333 💞💕💗💝

#i hope i didn’t say anything like. bad here #i’m sorry i wish i could be more helpful im just doing whatever and then people like it 😭#but oh my god i still cant believe you’ve been here like. since the BEGINNING beginning. i haven’t thought about the cereal bio i think #since i changed it #that’s so cool #asks #anonymous #long post

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Myth or Movie

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer's children have worked up a plan to get them to meet... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders) Word Count: 4.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)'s kids don't get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you... really really get along... and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”... So do with that what you will lol

———

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I'm out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn't seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.

As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.

One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I'd met with her before over some of Sky's academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today's circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.

It's also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today's whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.

Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I've never seen before. He's taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I'd ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he's doing here—to think about having to talk to him.

I shrink even further.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn't sound too upset given the circumstances. "Please, have a seat."

I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.

"As I'm sure you've guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian's father."

Great, he's a fucking doctor? This already bodes well for me...

Regardless of my reservations, I turn to him and give a faint smile. He waves in turn, and for the time being I'm extremely glad he doesn't insist on shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, surely nothing but a formality.

"You, too," I say quickly, then turn back to Principal Anteros. "Your phone call sounded urgent... Is everything alright?"

As soon as I say it, I feel kind of dumb. Because of course everything isn't alright. My child's principal called a meeting with another parent, and that can never mean anything good, not to mention the fucking intimidation and awkwardness in the room right now. I almost apologize, trying to explain that that wasn't exactly what I meant to get across, but then I would have just been talking for way too long, embarrassing myself further.

Once again, I'm thankful for Anteros's ability to move the conversation along. "I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem so. I only bring this to attention because Sky and Vivian are both stellar students. They've never had any disciplinary issues or difficulties with other students..."

"No one's hurt, right?" Mr. Reid asks. I know he's just concerned for his child, but for some reason it feels like an attack on me, like he assumes my kid had something to do with it.

"No, no one's hurt. Thankfully there weren't any physical altercations. But it seems your girls are quite... loud."

The doctor looks like he wants to say something, but I'm quick to jump in before he can. "Sorry... Sky is non-binary. They use they/them pronouns."

I half expect one or either of them to make a big deal or just roll their eyes at me, as most people seem to do when I correct them on the matter, but Anteros gives a sincere apology and Reid probably couldn't have cared any less.

I still can't tell if I like him or not...

But that doesn't matter right now.

"What do you mean by loud?" I continue.

Anteros sighs. "Well, while there hasn't been any physical violence, your kids seem to have very heated arguments, usually during lunch or in the hallway in passing... We thought maybe we could resolve it here since, like I said, they're both excellent students, but then it started escalating to classroom arguments... It's a lot of screaming..."

I have never known Sky to raise their voice at anyone, not even in a situation where I probably would have. Lord knows I'm thankful they don't have my impatience and tendency to get pissed off easily...

So what happened that was so bad, it made them snap?

"You... You're sure you mean Vivian is acting out like this?" Reid asks slowly, and I can't stop myself from laughing out loud.

"Come on, she's a professional. This has been going on for weeks, in her school, I'm sure she would know if it was your kid having a screaming match with someone else..."

This time Doctor Reid actually looks over at me, an eyebrow raised, and though I very much believe what I've just told him, the way he's looking at me right now drops my heart straight down to my stomach, like he's the principal and I'm the student acting out—No, it's worse than that... I feel like he's a disappointed parent, but not with Vivian, with me.

I avoid his intimidating stare and look down at the ground. "Sorry... I'm just... This isn't like Sky, either, I don't know what to do..."

"Well, usually when we have these sort of disputes, we like to have the students talk it out amongst themselves with a moderator present. But we've tried that, and it seems that they still haven't made any progress. Now, I know your children are good at heart, and it seems like you both are excellent parents— You know your children better than anyone here ever could. So, I'm proposing the two of you take a meeting some time and try to figure out how to settle this."

Seriously? If it hasn't been made clear already, this man is a doctor of some kind, planets away from my league in any capacity, and I can just picture the two of us in a screaming match close to what I imagine our children's looked like...

Maybe we can just e-mail.

"Okay," he agrees evenly, and I'm surprised he seems this calm considering I've just practically yelled at him... "I have free time this afternoon if you want to talk it over."

"I have to get back to work, but I get done at five," I sigh, wanting to get this over with. "Are you free then?"

"Mhm."

"Good," Anteros chirps, standing and leaving Doctor Reid and I to follow suit. "Perhaps over the weekend we can get this settled."

I sure as hell hope so.

———

"Ms. Y/L/N, wait!"

I have no idea what he could possibly want from me now that we've set a time and place to talk tonight, but I'm just praying desperately that he doesn't want to take this time alone in the parking lot to get back at me for accosting him in Anteros's office...

Thankfully, his face when he approaches seems rather kind.

"You can call me Y/N..."

"Right," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and nodding. "I'm Spencer."

"Spencer... So, um... Did you need something?"

"O—Oh, I just... I know you have to get back to work so I'll make this short, but I wanted to see if you wanted to do, uh... dinner tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I just figured since we probably didn't expect for our weekend to go this way... We should make it worth it?"

"Are you really trying to turn this into a date?"

"W— No, not really, I just... You know, I thought it might be nice to... make this less like a chore, you know? A—And don't feel like you have to say yes, it was just a thought, I'm sorry if I made this weirder..."

The fact that I still can't figure this man out bothers me, but right now he's blushing, and he looks like he's trying to save himself from embarrassment, and it's so fucking adorable that I don't really care that I was just annoyed.

So I tell him, "Sure. Why not?"

"Really?"

"Yeah... Besides, Lord knows I haven't gone out for dinner in a long time."

The doctor is relieved, a smile creeping up on his lips that suddenly tugs at my insides and makes me wish for a second that it really is a date he's offering... "Okay, good. Do you want to meet at Waterstone, seven o'clock?"

The excitement starts to drain from me as he says it, followed by an incoming wave of embarrassment. "Oh, man, that... That place is kind of expensive, I don't—"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll pay for everything. I'll even wait outside for you so we can go in together if you'd like..."

Why he's being so nice to me I have no idea, but it's making my annoyance melt and my heart start to beat faster, and I really don't know how to feel about that. In fact I'm pretty sure it's weird as fuck given the circumstances.

But all I have to do is make it through this weekend, hopefully all will be back to normal, and I won't ever have to think about it ever again.

"Alright... It's a date."

———

Out of all the scenarios I'd pictured for the end of the night, this definitely had not been one of them.

I finished my shift at the diner, imagining on my drive home the look on his face when I inevitably showed up with something on my face or stained on my dress; Instead I showed up to Waterstone and was greeted with wandering eyes and showered with bashful compliments.

I expected to get into some type of argument about how each of our kids were better than the other or something, but we ended up talking through their traits with compassion, interest, and pride, all while agreeing that we just have to sit with them this weekend and explain that there are easier, better ways to sort out disagreements than screaming at each other in public.

I expected not to have much fun at all, but by the time we gathered the check and headed out the door, Spencer and I were laughing, just a little tipsy on Cabernet, our hands gently brushing and sparks shooting up my arm at the feeling.

I expected to go our separate ways and walk to my car and drive home, but instead he ended up telling me he was taking the Subway home, and I offered to give him a ride to the opposite side of town where I lived (Waterstone was right in the middle).

I expected to walk through the door, stumble straight up to bed, and sleep until Sky inevitably woke me up with them saying I've slept in too late and needed to get ready for work, but instead I ended up following Spencer up to his door to say goodnight.

And now we're at a fork in the road, and I can take one of two paths.

I can say goodnight, watch him walk in, and then go home and forget about this whole thing.

Or I can keep letting him stare at me until I find myself leaning in to kiss him. Whether or not he'll actually reciprocate is another story, but the little bit of wine tingling in the surface of my body and the dark, intense look in his eye gives me more courage than I've had since I met him.

Before I can make a move, Spencer talks, his voice small and inviting. "Do you want to come inside?" The beating of my heart quickens immensely as he takes another step forward and brings his fingers out to graze my chin. "Vivian's with her mom tonight."

Yes. Vivian's mom, who divorced Spencer pretty soon in the marriage after she just decided his job was too much to handle. He'd quit and took a teaching job, but even still, she declined his pleading to stay married and eventually admitted that she just wasn't in love with him anymore. At least she had the decency to let him have joint custody once his schedule cleared up, and it seemed like they were decent co-parents. Maybe even friends.

I think about Sky, how much they wish their dad had stayed, and how much I wish he had too. I was devastated when he left without anything more than a note. For years it took a huge toll on us, and I barely had the headspace to even think about dating anyone since then.

But here I am now, standing with this man who has also lost a spouse, who's somewhat of a single parent, and who seems kind and genuine enough that I don't think I'd have to worry about bringing him into the life of my child.

Though, I don't even know it'll go that far. I'm getting too far ahead of myself, and so to slow down I look at what's right in front of me. Right now.

Spencer looks at me like he wants to devour me. My whole body is tingling from head to toe. I want to kiss him, and I'm pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me back. He just invited me inside, which means that if I accept, we'll most likely end up sleeping with each other.

Again... Definitely not one of the scenarios I'd had in mind when I left the school today. But it's a damn good one, and he's so hot I want to cry.

My flirty switch turns on so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash. "And what are you gonna do if I say yes?"

"Depends... How badly do you want to walk tomorrow?"

My first instinct is to jokingly tell him to put me in a wheelchair, but I settle for kissing him instead, hoping that gives the same sentiment.

The way he melts into my body tells me I've succeeded. My arms fly up to his neck and pull him closer, and he holds me tightly to him, waiting for my lips to part so he can expertly slip his tongue past them.

I whine out and take a step towards the door. Spencer comes with me and fumbles with the keys in his pocket before reluctantly pulling away to get us inside.

Once we take our jackets and shoes off, he clings to me like static, drawn to me like a magnet, and I let him near without a second thought. Our lips find each other perfectly, like they've always meant to fit together. And as pieces of clothing come off on our way through the house and up to his bedroom, our limbs fit together just as well. Nothing is out of place.

Hell, I don't even remember how inferior to him I felt earlier in the day. Our jobs and lifestyles might seem like polar opposites, but for right now, the two of us are on very equal footing, coming together like it's always been meant to be.

I nearly fall apart when his fingers gather wetness from my cunt, just enough to tease me before pulling away and bringing them to his lips. I watch with a whine waiting on the back of my tongue as he slips his fingers past his mouth and sighs.

"More," is all he manages, and I want so badly to tease him—tell him how I know he can be more eloquent than that—but words are all lost on me too, when he drops to his knees and spreads me apart with ease. I have no choice but to reach behind and grip the foot-end of the bed as he works his tongue expertly against me.

Each of my sighs and whines are met with more avidity from him, taking the form of sharp flicks of the tongue over my clit, and once he adds his fingers to the mix, pumping them expertly inside me, I'm a fucking goner.

I come with a silent shout, clenching my thighs around his face and gripping the foot of the bed so tightly it feels like my hands might go numb.

Once my body loosens, Spencer gets up and kisses me, nearly knocking me over. I'm breathless and dizzy as the tang of my arousal coats my tastebuds. His hands are gentle despite the hunger in his lips, and the medley of sensations of all of these things has me weak in the knees.

"Getting harder to stand already, sweetheart?" he laughs, catching me as I fall into him. His hands clutch at my thighs and he carries me to the edge of the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing down my neck. "That's okay... I'll take good care of you."

I still can't manage to speak as he gently pushes in, the slow burn of him splitting me in two rendering me utterly incapable of even thought. I gladly welcome the pressure, especially once he's inside me all the way and lowering his body to mine. Our chests press firmly together as he pulls back and starts a steady pace with his hips. He traps me with his arms, bringing them to either side of my face. And when his fingers brush the hair from my eyes, he stares into them with intensity as he fucks me.

It's slow and hard. It's heart-pounding. It's earth-shattering. It's everything that makes sex worth having. In that moment we're two equals, so wrapped up in the mere feeling of each other that everything else is just background noise. He breathes me in and I do the same, and with each cant forward of his hips, he brings me deeper into this world we've both ultimately created together.

I want more than anything to wrap my legs around him and keep him close to me, but he's fucking me so good that I don't have the willpower. Instead, they lay spread out, lazy and open as his hips move between them. I'm warm all over, tingling everywhere our skin connects. When he kisses me, swallowing my pathetic attempts at whimpering his name, I'm positive that this is what Heaven must feel like.

Whether it's hours or only minutes later, eventually my body tenses, unable to hold back any further, and two particularly deep thrusts from Spencer send me barreling over the edge.

"There it is, sweetheart..." he praises, caressing my face with long, gentle fingers and leaving little kisses wherever they trail. His voice only seems to help me along, each warm syllable soothing the muscles that pulled taut at his mercy. "That's a good girl..."

I feel tired, calmed, and relaxed, when he pulls out only to jerk off over my lower stomach. Through tired eyes, I watch as he lets go and covers me with his release. Hearing him grunt out my name as he does it nearly wakes me up again, and it even finally brings some words out of me.

"God, you're so fucking hot..."

Well... Not exactly elegant, but the feeling gets across.

Spencer laughs and rolls over so that he isn't nearly crushing me anymore. He kisses down my neck, my arm, and he ever-so-slightly swipes the tip of his tongue over the mess he made before kissing my thigh and getting up to leave— presumably to get me something to clean up with.

Sure enough, he returns shortly with a wet washcloth and tenderly cleans me up. I manage to sit, leaning back on my elbows once he's done and smile at him. He's practically kneeling in front of me again, smiling back as his lips press featherlight kisses to the inside of my leg.

"How're you feeling?" he drawls, letting me pull him up to lay down with me.

"Really good. I haven't done that in so long..."

"Me either... I um... I hadn't really thought much about seeing other people once Lena and I got divorced... I guess I just wanted to put all my focus into being the best father I could, you know?"

"Mhm," I answer, turning to face him and interlocking our fingers. "I know exactly what you mean."

We lay like that for a few moments in comfortable silence, hands and limbs tangled while we breathe the same air and revel in the afterglow we've just created.

Suddenly Spencer laughs, and I squeeze his hand. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking... We probably wouldn't have met if not for Anteros calling us in, right?"

"Yeah..." I piece it together. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

"I just think it's funny, because in Greek mythology, Anteros was an Erote, known as an avenger of unrequited love, and he punished those who scoffed at romantic advances made by others... You and I never even thought about dating after our separations, and yet... Here we are now, because of Anteros."

Hearing him educate me on Greek mythology only serves to remind me how different we are. Still, the little story brings a comforting smile to my lips. "Well... Remind me to send her a basket of muffins or something to thank her."

"And tell her what? That you're grateful she got you laid?"

"Yeah. And what about it?"

The two of us dissolve into laughter that eventually fizzles and leaves us silent again. Our fingers are still tangled, and somehow we've snuggled in even closer.

"In any case, I'm glad I got to meet you, Doctor Reid."

"And I, you, Ms. Y/L/N..."

———

In the past two weeks since that first meeting, I hadn't received any more phone calls from Principal Anteros, which bode as a good sign.

Spencer and I decided to see each other as secretly as we could, which meant only giving vague details to our kids as to what we were doing in our spare time— It seemed weird to spring it on them if they didn't get along, so we figured it was best to wait until the situation was handled.

I tried to talk to Sky about their progress with Vivian, but they only insisted that everything was fine and they wouldn't have to worry anymore. And after relaying this information to Spencer, he informed me that Viv had said the same thing to him.

It wasn't until we both realized that they'd said the same things verbatim each time we asked, that something odd was going on.

And that's how we end up right here, Sky and I sitting on a park bench bathed in the golden October sun while I patiently wait for Spencer to 'coincidentally' show up with Vivian.

Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, because almost five minutes after we sit, I hear the familiar sound of my name falling from his lips, and it's hard to contain the cocky, playful smile that appears upon my own.

"Spencer, hey!" I call back, standing up and going to give him a hug. He pulls me in and he's nice and warm. He smells like burnt wood for some reason, and I want to breathe him in forever. Instead, I settle for a sweet kiss on the lips, both because I simply want to and also because it should baffle the fuck out of our kids.

Sure enough we pull away and look to them, and they look panicked. They have no idea what to do, what to say...

"Oh! Sorry... Viv, this is Y/N, Sky's mom."

The pure amusement in Spencer's voice makes me feel even warmer than being in his embrace. I look to his daughter and give her a wave. "Hi."

"H—Hi..."

It almost seems cruel to laugh at their predicament, but as I turn to Sky and introduce them to Spencer, they have clear annoyance written all over their face.

"Okay, Mom, I think we get it... How did you guys figure it out?"

"What, that you two pretended to hate each other so your principal would have to call us both in to meet?"

The pre-teens look at each other and sigh, truly defeated once and for all. "Yeah," they mutter simultaneously.

"Well, it surely didn't make any sense when you got in trouble for yelling at each other in the first place," Spencer points out. "And then when we asked you how things were working out, you both said the same exact thing..."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out, but we appreciate the effort," I add, reaching out to ruffle Sky's hair. They jerk away playfully, and I can't help but notice their smile as they peek over at Vivian.

"Our plan worked, though, so I call it a win," Vivian says with a shrug.

"As long as you two don't plan on causing any more disruptions at school..." Spencer looks between the both of them, and then at me, his eyes softening as he takes my hand and squeezes it. "Then yes. I'd call it a win, too."

I lean into him and laugh. "Turns out it wasn't Greek mythology that brought us together. It was The Parent Trap."

He raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't get what I mean, and before I can ask or explain, Vivian does it for me. "He's never seen it."

Spencer looks between the three of us like a lost and confused puppy, and we all laugh.

"Well, then, maybe we'll have to have a movie night sometime soon," I offer, reaching out for Sky.

Hand in hand, the four of us continue down the pathway, walking away from the setting sun while dried leaves rustle under our feet.

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out):

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @mcureid @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @goldensonlyangel @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos @mggskneescrew @youabitchhhh @spencersjello @moonlight-2-6 @starrylang @foreveryoungxx3 @spencerreidscoffeecup @morganwilliams @emilyprsntiss @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @gubswh0re @mrsobrien888 @loveeee2134 @umbreonwolfy @ayla-1605 @reidsbabe @not-that-kind-of-dr-spencer-reid

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #enemies to lovers

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ”

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

#childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche x reader #tartaglia #scaramouche genshin impact #yandere scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

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sacrificialblood · 2 years

Text

drown your misery.

idk i MIGHT make this a small series but idk depends on how i’m feeling abt this later on i have a couple hundred or so words written for another part but like i DO have a hard time finishing things

vincent sinclair x reader

word count: 2,589

warnings: alcohol, kidnapping, mentions of vomit

***

The seasons have already changed by the time you’re allowed to come up from Vincent’s workroom. You arrived in the spring, mid-April, and now there’s a chill in the air. Bo refuses to tell you the date and Vincent ignores you and pushes you toward other things to distract you, like the to-do list that comes with your new freedom. There’s rules, pre-arranged by the brothers and enforced with the twin blades in Vincent’s apron and Bo’s shotgun.

Before this, before Ambrose, you would have scolded yourself for walking into this, becoming nothing more than a housewife and following everything they say. You always lived in a black and white world. It’s about the gray area of survival now.

You ignore the screams and the cries and focus on completing the chores that keep you in Bo’s good graces. You cook, clean, do laundry, take care of the dog when Vincent isn't around, and you do it with a smile, albeit a forced one, whenever the Sinclair brothers are around. You’re lucky in that respect, that Bo hangs around the garage most of the day and that Vincent keeps to himself. Whatever violence they commit in the day doesn’t bleed over into your new life.

It will soon. It’s inevitable. There’s only so many places to hide in Ambrose.

Your hand stills, squeezing the sponge in it until it runs dry. What would you do then? Cry for help? Help the brothers? Escape with whoever is unfortunate enough to land in Ambrose? The plate falls from your hands and crashes with the other dirty dishes.

You know what you’d like to do—run as far as you could from here, escape to safety with other survivors, live to tell your tale, get back to your old life and pick up where you left off. Something tells you different though. You would die trying. You aren’t strong or fast and that’s how you ended up here. Your only chance of living is to stay put and follow the rules until you have a solid plan.

You turn off the water. You don’t want to plan, you don’t want to have to kill someone or alert the brothers of where they can find their victims. No more cleaning or cooking, no more of this Leave It to Beaver bullshit.

There’s a bottle of whiskey tucked in the back of one of the cabinets. You’d found it while you were deep cleaning the kitchen. It was unopened, covered in years worth of grime, and from the look of the dust, you were the first one to touch it in a very long time. Now it sits pretty, but still ignored by both brothers whenever they open that particular cabinet. Maybe they won’t mind, maybe they will, there’s only one way to find out.

But you could be dead soon. Vincent could tire of you or Bo could read a look you give him the wrong way and you could be thrown into the chair, forced into position and become a new attraction.

Might as well be drunk enough not to care.

***

It's been a long time since you’ve drank this heavily—even longer since you’ve been plastered in the middle of the day. It’s easy to enjoy the hollow feeling in your chest and head. The only thing you care about is the fact that you don’t think about it—earning approval, playing the role of a good housewife, the obedient captive.

The alcohol makes you cringe with each sip, lips curling in disgust, but it gets easier, as all things do. You get used to it. You endure it.

You don’t want to endure this.

You sit in Dr. Sinclair’s office and watch the seconds tick by on an old clock that still works. You’re surrounded by the dead, dissected and bisected things that had fallen prey to the knife. You’re looking at your future. Your body will be offered to the butcher block one day, there’s no doubt of that. You don’t know what stayed Vincent’s hand that day in the wax museum—clueless to any sort of feeling or whim he felt when he saw you—but you can only hope that whatever Vincent feels for you is enough to grant you a swift death. You don’t want to wait for death to come to you, painfully aware of your coming demise from dehydration or starvation and knowing you can’t do a thing about it.

***

He finds you hunched over the toilet, hair in your face and knotted to hell, you’ve been vomiting on and off the last ten minutes but after each round you take another swig, pushing yourself past your bodily limit. The bottle is nearly gone.

It’s easy to ignore him when he blocks out the light of the hallway, you’ve been getting good at ignoring. But then he whines something pitiful, a sound you’d never thought a man of his size and composure could ever make. All interactions with him were always carefully detached, but gentle nonetheless, and if you close your eyes tight enough and forget just a little, you can build a fantasy, always just a soft lover, a nervous lover touching you for the first time. He hunches down next to you, hands hovering over your back and shoulders, fluttering around like a hummingbird as your chest heaves and jerks.

Eventually, his hands find a place on your jaw, dragging your face up to get a better look at you. Vincent's hands are clammy and it’s an honest relief, you feel like you’re boiling with all the blood that gathered to your face, and you lean into his touch just for a moment to bask in it. He hums—a pleasant sound when devoid of the context—pleased by your immediate submission, he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks. And again, you can pretend.

Pretending is your new favorite game–

His hands are so soft. Devoid of the rough calluses of a hard working life. The wax has kept him soft, only on the surface of course, you know what lurks there, that darkness that comes with the wax. It’s not just a little hobby or a job, this is his life. This is not a man you can find comfort in. This man is keeping you captive, working with his brother to keep you in check and should you break the rules, overstep boundaries, become too comfortable, you know exactly where you’ll end up and just what state you will be in.

–but all games must come to an end.

“Don’t fucking… don’t touch me.”

He doesn’t budge against your shove, just watches you with a scrutinizing eye. There’s no comfort. You can’t ask him for it and he could never give it. What would he know about love or kindness or empathy? If he had even an ounce of it, he would have let you go, would have never started encasing people in wax.

You hate Lester for luring you here, you hate Bo for not killing you quicker and wanting to toy with his food and giving Vincent enough time and space to become beguiled, and you hate Vincent for wanting to keep you. Most of all, you hate yourself. You’d been given freedom and you didn’t try to escape.

You don’t realize you’re talking until you feel a hand on your back. It’s hesitant, slow to touch you but finds confidence with each rub against your spine. His touch makes your head spin and your eyes water.

He signs something to you, but your lack of understanding and his insistence frustrates you.

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” you scream, voice breaking from the effort.

He flinches–your captor flinches at you. Why should he be scared when you’re living on the precipice? The stress of living has kept you up for hours on end, degraded your thoughts and broke you down physically and now that pressure, that fear, is coming to the surface. It helps that it was loosened up by the liquor.

“I miss my mom and sister. Let me go. Let me see them. I hate it here. I want to go home. Can't you see,” you bring your hand up to his face—no not his face, his mask—and circle your index and middle finger around the hole that allows him to see, “I’m miserable. I'm dying. Let me go home. I don't want to die here.”

He shakes his head.

You’re seeing red through your tears and you shove him again and again, desperate for a reaction, a tick of anger, the narrowing of his eye, the flash of a blade, but nothing happens, the most he does is make a few noises. You pound your fists into his chest and he just takes it. And even when you lose your energy, he brushes your hair back and wipes your mouth clean with a damp hand towel. He's gentle with you, treats you like a delicate object, his most prized possession.

Because that’s what you are, a new toy for him to play with until he breaks or loses interest in it.

I hate you. I hate you. I hateyouhateyouhateyouhatehatehatehate.

The bottle is placed on the counter and the hand towel in the sink and with some considerable strength and manipulation, Vincent has pulled you up on your feet, grasping around your clothes despite how gross they are, shirt soaked to your chest with alcohol and sweat and bile, and you no doubt reek. Vincent pays it no mind, not even when the ends of his hair get caught on your shirt. He leads you around the house, waiting for you when you need a second to catch your breath or steady your head.

His hands are carefully positioned, his left cupping your left elbow and his right has a tight grip on your right hand. There’s a slight drag to it, he tries to pull you close to his side, wants you to lean on him. You can only interpret it as a desperate attempt to make you feel safe and cared for.

The walk is a blur even with your eyes closed. There’s no mistaking where you’re headed even in your stupor, the half flight of stairs and the few corner turns—you’re going back to the workroom, back to the little makeshift room he constructed for you, where only a few curtains separate you from the rest of his space.

He stops and lets you go. His hands are a blur but you know what he’s doing, you just don’t know what he’s saying.

The front door slams open and Vincent’s hand stops mid-sign, there’s only one other person it could be. Bo’s coming closer, footfalls heavy and loud, reverberating through the old house. He rounds the corner so fast he nearly knocks you on your ass, but you catch yourself on Vincent’s forearm. Bo’s nose crinkles up once he sees you, he probably smelled you before he even caught his first glance at you. He stares at you through narrowed eyes and places a hand on his hip while the other goes up to gesture at you.

“Ah Christ, Vinny, clean ‘em up and put ‘em back. You can’t keep ‘em if ya ain’t gonna take care of ‘em. Ya know the rules.”

Vincent signs something that makes Bo roll his eyes.

“I’m not a pet.”

Your proclamation of autonomy is slurred and he only snickers and pushes away the finger you point at him.

“Honey, don’t start that with me. Lucky yer Vinny’s ‘n not mine. Sure as hell wouldn’t be runnin’ ‘round this damn house like you own it.”

You stare him dead in the eyes and stick your fingers down your throat. There’s not much left but the alcohol and stomach acid. It’s enough for your intention. He curls his lip at you (don’t you dare do it) and you empty what little is left in your stomach all over his boots.

He stares at his boots, like he can’t comprehend what happened, then you see that shift in his stance and the redness in his face. It’s almost comical how he starts toward you, one foot slipping at the lack of traction and the stutter in his pace as he tries to steady himself.

“Fuck you.”

Vincent pulls you away and hurries you to the trap door.

“You fuckin’ bitch!”

This will surely get you what you want.

***

The ceiling spins, and before this moment you thought everyone who ever said that was being dramatic, but it does spin. You can’t fucking see straight and the blank expression of Vincent’s mask blurs into a pale circle.

You heave again, body lurching forward towards the edge of the cot and in your periphery, Vincent points by the bed. A trashcan. White knuckling the edges, you heave, waiting for anything, something, but you’re all empty. It's just nausea now.

There’s nothing left.

He approaches you like you're a wild animal. It’s all too gentle. His hand brushes over your hair and doesn’t stop when he reaches chunks, just pulls them out and drops them in the trashcan, completely nonchalant about it.

He gives you as close to a bath as he can with a wet washcloth and a bowl of water, wiping around your mouth and neck, over your exposed arms, your feet and behind your knees. He doesn’t try to pull down your shorts or your shirt, he keeps his actions clinical and detached.

His hands hover over your hair, deciding on what– you don’t know, but you take too much pleasure when you feel his hand on your scalp, gently rubbing circles. He coaxes you onto your back and over the edge of the bed until your head rests in his lap. You luxuriate in the touch, too defeated to care or fight back. Again, you can pretend.

The cold water shocks you out of it.

You gasp and shoot up into an upright position and feel the heaviness on your head. Vincent dumped the rest of the water on your hair. A heavy hand guides you back down onto your back, but you resist. He grunts and grips your shoulder hard, maybe not enough to bruise, but it’s enough to remind you of the power he holds, the power and strength that you lack against him.

He wants you to want this, to let him take care of you in some twisted way.

He wrings the water out of your hair and rubs his fingers through the ends, pulling out the remains of dried bile.

It’s a struggle when he rolls you onto your side. He grunts and pushes you around every time you roll onto your back or front. Eventually, he tires of the game you play and tucks the blankets tight around your body, props your back up against a pillow and drops a bottle of water by your face. He stares at you a moment longer, arms crossed over his chest as he examines his work.

Only when he’s sure that you’re comfortable does he lock the thick metal cuff around your ankle. He pulls on the chain connecting you to the wall twice, lets it fall back against your legs, and disappears behind the curtain.

You cry and it quickly devolves into a hyperventilating mess when you realize you’re never leaving, .

Somewhere in his workshop, Vincent turns the radio up.

#vincent sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x y/n #writing #🌙

127 notes · View notes

junowritings · 3 years

Note

Hello there mighty one!

May I request the bois reacting to fem!reader carrying tyem 'princess' style?

Reader looks week, skinny she looks like they don't have that much muscles. (Ironically they radiate big_D energy). She carries them like they don't weight that much. (+ Bonus points if reader acts like it's a normal thing!)

Be it a bet or one of the boys got injured or something else but reader ends up carrying them. That's literally it lol

Thank you ahead! ❤️💓

OH MAN THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY! I had so much fun with this and I really hope that it was well worth the wait thank you so much for requesting!

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Riddle

♡ Honestly, you get a serious kick out of surprising people with your strength. Everyone always underestimates you, thinking that you’re too scrawny to pick up a chair much less even try picking up a person. You always protest about it, but unless someone actually wants you to show off just how strong you are you rarely get the chance to show off just how strong you are. Your fellow students would lose it if they found out just how easy it was to get swept off of their feet - you yanked Ace up into your arms once when he made the mistake of teasing you about it, giving him a little hoist into the air for good measure and cracking up at the shocked wheeze he let out at how easily you lifted him. Needless to say you’re pretty strong even if you don’t look it.

♡ You’d been lying if you said you hadn’t at least been a tiny bit tempted to carry Riddle around if only to see how he reacts - just thinking about the priceless look on his face was an amusing thought, but it remained as thoughts because as funny as it would be you value the life of yourself and your fellow classmates over the idea. It just so happens that thanks to a certain series of events, you actually get the chance to see the scenario play out in real life, surprisingly through no fault of your own.

♡ There’s certain times of the day where the crowds of students around Night Raven College swell and dissipate depending on where you are. In the middle of the day the rush is arguably the worst to anyone hoping not to get lost within a swarm of students bustling from their classrooms. It’s the period right before lunch actually starts, and whilst you should technically be in class right now, you’d all gotten enough done that you were allowed out a few minutes earlier than usual. Frankly you were more than happy for the extra minutes - it meant a few precious moments where you could tear through the hallways and get to the cafeteria to nab a snack before the main crowds started clogging up the exits as they did everytime the lunch period rolls in.

♡ You’re humming around a mouthful of the sweet treat you’d snagged from the days menu when you cross paths with Riddle, and though he doesn’t look too chuffed about you eating food outside of the appropriate dining hall he doesn’t call you out on it. You two fall into stride retreating down the hallway from where you’d first entered; it seems that you’re both heading towards the same area and you don’t mind the company so it suits you just fine to spend a little time with the dorm leader before going your respective ways for the next class. The peace doesn’t last for very long - soon enough the rest of the classes are being let out, and you’re suddenly reminded of why you were rushing to get away from the dining hall in the first place.

♡ All you see is the dinner rush crowd making a mad dash to the cafeteria and you act without thinking. You just know that Riddle would step in to enforce at least some kind of order to the pandemonium, but even if he could scare the crowd into stopping they’re still going to barge right over the two of you at this rate, and you’d rather avoid having the ghosts scraping either one of you off of the hallway floor. You’d much rather suffer through getting reamed out by Riddle for the stunt you’re about to pull than getting trampled by a stampede of students with no sense of personal space. When you mutter a quick “sorry!” Riddle gives you a confused look, which turns baffled when you toss your snack for him to catch in order to free up your hands (he catches it, thankfully - you don’t wanna make the journey back to buy a new one.)

♡ It’s a swift motion - all Riddle feels is your hands grabbing hold of him and suddenly the world is spinning and he finds himself pulled right up into your arms as you race back the way you’d come. His shout falls deaf on your ears in favor of the curses you’re chanting under your breath as you run, shifting the dorm leader around in your arms till you find a good enough position that he’s not going to fall out of your hold as you pick up your pace.

♡ You’re fast, and strong enough that carrying Riddle is no chore at all - you could probably do this under normal circumstances with no problem, not that you’d probably get the chance to after this. That little fact can be stewed over later, you decide, instead focusing on finding a place to get out of the way of the crowds. It isn’t long before you find an open classroom, and no sooner have you skidded through the doorway do you watch the student horde race past, completely oblivious to the pair of you. You let out a breathy laugh, more than a little relieved as you lean up against the doorframe and finally cast your gaze down to the boy in your arms.

♡ Yep, you were right about the priceless expression.

♡ Okay, so maybe the sudden grab and dash had left the dorm leader looking a little more...disheveled than usual, if the popped collar and skewed strands of hair from where his head had been pressed against your chest are any indication. You’re guessing that he’s still reeling from the fact that you’ve hoisted him up and carried him away like a princess as though he weighs nothing, because he doesn’t immediately start chewing you out about your little escape. His face is beginning to flush though, reaching the midpoint between pink and that signature red that’s close enough to match his hair; you certainly don’t make things any better when you move him around in your arms again, lifting him up a little more as your head ducks down.

♡ Riddle bristles, stuttering whatever planned retort he’d had only to freeze when he realizes you’re leaning towards the snack he’s managed to hold onto as you’d run. Your teeth snag its corner and you let out a triumphant “ha!” that’s muffled as you ease back up to finish off your self-proclaimed reward. It’s at that moment a soft cough turns both of your attention to the rest of the classroom, where several loitering students give the pair of you curious looks at the display. That finally kicks things back into gear, and you narrowly avoid dropping Riddle with how hard he wriggles out of your grip, working quickly to act as though the whole thing never happened which earns him an amused snort as you resolve to finish off your snack whilst he fixes his collar.

Leona

♡ Food has become a very effective bargaining chip when it comes to bets with your fellow students. You’re pretty sure placing monetary bets would get you in trouble if you were caught by one of the staff (especially Crewel, you don’t think anyone can handle his punishments more than once), and with all the maintenance going into your dorm betting money just isn’t an option you’re interested in. Food on the other hand is always in the ballpark, and with the limited edition dishes that pop onto the cafeteria menu throughout the year, alongside some of the phenomenal cooks amongst the student body, there’s no shortage of food bribes to use as a motive to get things done.

♡ Your strength has come into play on more than one occasion, because it either leads to people trying to call a bluff and wanting you to prove yourself, or they wanna see just how strong you are. You certainly don’t mind thanks to the little rewards your feats manage to net you, plus it makes for an interesting point of conversation when you’re bored. It’s boredom that leads to the following conversation with Cater during break - being outside the only real entertainment is walking around, talking to other students that cross your path, or just lounging around till the break’s over.

♡ You’d been walking around with Cater for a while before the appeal of watching the scenery faded and you elected to find some place to sit. You’re leaning against his shoulder watching him text and swipe through his pictures to pass the time; soon enough an image of you shows up and you snort at the picture of you holding up Deuce by his legs. It was taken a while ago, and the telltale shit eating grin on your face is a testament of how amusing the whole situation had been; seeing it now sparks up the same conversation you’d had at the time - can you really pick up anyone with no problem?

♡ Eager to jump at the opportunity for entertainment, the two of you turn your eyes across the field, where Cater takes to pointing people out. Epel? Easy, but wouldn’t be too happy about it. Kalim? You’ve done it before and it went pretty well minus the fact that his enthusiasm made him damn near slip out of your arms. You answer yes to most of the people he points out to you, until his gaze lands on someone lounging under the treeline and he points them out to you. Following his line of sight, you catch sight of Leona and the two of you share a look as you huff and say that yeah, of course you could pick that big lug up!

♡ Cater asking you to actually prove it wasn’t what you expected, and you give him a doubtful glance trying to gauge if he’s joking or not. Turns out he’s not, and at your hesitation he offers a bribe to convince you, and at the mention of one of Trey’s signature tarts you visibly perk up. He doesn’t even have to pull out the treat from his bag before you’re up onto your feet and jogging right over to the treeline, shooting him a confident grin over your shoulder as you approach the sleeping lion.

♡ To be honest, you probably would have tried this at some point anyway, but Trey’s tarts are a hell of an incentive to do it right now, and it’s the driving force that steels your resolve as you approach him. You know that he notices you - you’re not exactly quiet, and while he doesn’t open his eyes or turn to look at you his ears twitch in your direction at the sound of your footfalls coming towards him. It’s only when you squat down beside him that he cracks an eye open and lets out an inquisitive grumble asking you what you’re doing.

♡ You only tell him not to worry, but that just makes him more wary given that every time you’ve said that before it’s definitely cause for concern. You end up proving him right to be wary when you shuffle close enough to actually touch him and slot your hands under his back, promptly hefting him up from his once comfortable spot beneath the shade and into your arms.

♡ Leona jolts in response and you narrowly avoid an elbow to the ribs at how he squirms about at the sudden position change; his ears are pressed flat against his head and he squares you with a scathing look as he orders you to put him back down, calling you a brat for good measure. You only huff at the dorm leader and strengthen your hold on him, making sure to keep one hand safely cradling his back as you spin around to show Cater your latest catch. There’s no missing the amusement in Cater’s face as he makes a poor attempt to hide his snicker with one hand as he holds up his phone to snap a picture commemorating the moment.

♡ Seeing the camera you flash a smile and a thumbs up with some careful maneuvering of the man in your arms, quickly returning your hands back to him when he hisses and shifts again. It’s probably not the wisest idea to hold onto him for very long, and you can tell Leona’s none too pleased by suddenly being picked up from the spot he was comfortable in, so you don’t keep him up for very long before you amble back over to the trees, setting him down as gently as you can without accidentally pulling in his tail as you pull away. This time his elbow makes a solid hit against your hip on the way down and you end up dropping him the rest of the way, keeling over with a pained wheeze as the pair of you topple none too gracefully to the ground, devolving into complaints and groans at the turn of events.

Azul

♡ It’s not entirely unheard of for Azul to stay behind in some of the classrooms once classes have concluded. Whilst the Monstro lounge is the ideal location to get things done, sometimes the patrons get too rambunctious for his liking and he prefers a little bit of peace and quiet while he works on the day’s schoolwork. The classrooms are perfect for this as most students are all too eager to filter out and go about their own business, leaving the rooms empty for people to mill in and out of as they please.

♡ He works uninterrupted for the most part, only pulling his attention away from the papers spread out across his desk to look towards the door, hearing the chatter of passing students outside though they only last a brief moment before their voices filter off and disappear as they move away from the classroom. These momentary distractions come and go so the school work is almost completely finished by the time any notable interruptions actually come this way. Unfortunately when they do it almost immediately stops him in his tracks; there’s a slam on the wall leading out to the hallway, and Azul jolts in his seat as he hears something slide up the wall getting higher and higher before it’s finally revealed.

♡ Azul watches Floyd’s head poke up from one of the overhead windows, and that’s enough to get him to pause mid writing as the pair lock eyes. Now, the Leech twins are tall, taller than most of the students in Octavinelle, but there’s no way that he should be visible so it's reasonable to assume that he couldn’t manage the height without the help of a step-ladder. That step-ladder theory goes out of the window when Floyd’s head drifts over to the far side of the window, and the Leech twin flashes his dorm leader a toothy grin and a wave for good measure as he drifts backwards and forwards in a way that looks...off.

♡ It’s bizarre, but not the weirdest thing that Azul’s seen Floyd do so whilst he does marvel at the sight for a moment or two he tries to return back to his work - tries being the key word here. Floyd makes an effort to peer through the glass, calling down to someone as he leans closer towards the window. That leads to the twin nearly slamming his head into the glass and a hand flies up to stop the would-be injury as he looks down out of the window's line of sight.

♡Floyd’s stance totters and momentarily his head ducks out of view as though he’s dropped. That’s enough to get the dorm leader to his feet to finally investigate, and he rises from his desk and works his way over to the door, letting out a sigh as he slides open the door and prepares himself for whatever trouble is going to be on the other side. Sure enough Floyd’s leaning up against the wall, greeting Azul when he steps out into the doorway. Floyd’s not the only one there though - there’s a few miscellaneous students milling around the Octavinelle students, but the main point of interest is the person standing right below Floyd, arms wrapped around his knees and keeping him up in the air as they twirl around to face Azul without even a tremble in their grip.

♡ The grin you offer him is similar to Floyds, brimming with amusement as you move your grip to offer a wave, shifting your weight around so as to not drop the boy in your arms as you do so. The raised brow and inquisitive look only makes you grin wider before a tap on your shoulder brings your attention back to the person you’re holding. Azul watches Floyd motion for you to lower him which you do without issue, and once you do the younger Leech twin leans down to whisper something in your ear. He doesn’t catch what he’s saying, but when two pairs of eyes suddenly square him with a scheming look he knows all too well he takes a cautionary step backwards, folding his arms across his chest.

♡ You drop Floyd the rest of the way and turn your sights on Azul, beginning to approach him with open arms and a deceptively warm smile as you call out his name. Now he knows that you’re up to something, and moves to take another step away when you suddenly dart to close the distance and pull him towards you. There’s no hesitation in the way that you quite literally sweep the dorm leader off of his feet, tucking him close to your chest as your arms move to rest along his back and the crook of his knees - you’re carrying him like a princess, and from the wide grin on your face this was clearly the impromptu plan you’d been given by that mischievous twin.

♡ Azul splutters, completely speechless at how effortlessly you’re able to sweep him off of the floor and into your arms, and he becomes acutely aware of just how many eyes are on him as you cradle him to your body making sure that he doesn’t fall. Your strength is no joke, and you make a small show of it by twirling around, catching his hat in the process when the action causes it to topple off of his head and placing it neatly back on his head by the time you come to a stop. For a second you could almost say he looks pleasantly amused beyond the initial surprise, which only makes it all the more entertaining for you.

♡ But then Floyd steps forward and goes to take him from your arms and Azul’s desperately patting you until you finally relent your grip and allow him to stand back onto his feet. You and Floyd share a conspiratory giggle as you watch Azul straighten his outfit back out and step out of the reach of the both of you, giving the pair of you a wide berth in case you decide to try sweeping him off of his feet again.

Kalim

♡ Your strength makes you perfect for doing heavy lifting tasks when the time calls for it. Moving things from one place to another has been the jobs left for the more physically strong students, so despite your otherwise unassuming appearance you’re usually the first person people come to when there’s any kind of heavy lifting to be done. You’ve been a huge help at events as a result, and more often than not the other students leave the cleanup to you, confident in your abilities to get things back to where they need to go.

♡ This particular cleanup task had taken quite a while, but with some diligent work and a couple snack breaks you and your friends had narrowed down the leftover mess, packing what could fit into the boxes provided so that they’d be easier to transport. When the inevitable question of which people were going to take what came up you were quick to step in, offering that it’d be no problem at all for you to handle this yourself - it was late anyways, so you’re sure everyone was eager to get back to their rooms for the night. It took a little convincing, but soon enough you’re left alone with the necessary keys and wishes for good luck with the work.

♡ You’d planned to take care of this task by yourself, reasoning that two or three trips should get the job done. You’d actually finished the first trip and was making your way out with the last couple of boxes when you cross paths with Kalim, who upon recognizing your face peeking out from behind the impromptu cardboard tower all but jumps in to help. Any protests fall on deaf ears, as once Kalim’s decided on something like helping you out he’s not gonna stop until it’s done.

♡ Before long he’s taken about a third of the boxes off of your hands (he tried to bargain for more but you were set on carrying the heavier stuff) and the pair of you are off to get them off to the right destination. Kalim fills the silence with conversation as he leads the way, which given the fact you’re the one who actually knows where storage is, ends up with you having to tug him in the right direction more than once before he charges down a wrong corridor. Despite that though the two of you make good progress, and you end up getting there faster than the initial first trip, and within a few minutes you’re nearing the storage room, albeit from a different direction than last time.

♡ You’re shifting about the boxes in your arms to fish through your pocket for the storage room keys with your free hand when you realize you’re getting close. Kalim skips ahead of you as you rummage for the keys, giving you an easygoing smile over his shoulder urging you to catch up. You feign a sigh of exasperation but move to pick up your pace which only prompts Kalim to charge on ahead aiming to get to the door first, still with that easy-going smile.

♡ That smile disappears in an instant however, as when you next blink, Kalim disappears from your field of vision and your heart drops at the sound of something scattering across the floor. Ditching your effort to find the keys, you race to catch up, stopping just short at the top of the stairs and looking down to where Kalim’s sat at the bottom, shaking off the dizziness from the fall. It’s fortunately only a few steps but you still rush to close the distance, hastily placing your bags onto the floor as you kneel down beside the dorm leader to check if he’s alright.

♡ Upon seeing your concern Kalim grins and makes a point to tell you that he’s fine, hoping to ease your worries. This time the sigh you let out is one of relief and you rise back to your feet, offering out your hand to pull him up with a playful jab to watch where he’s going next time. Kalim laughs and takes your hand, but the moment he gets to his feet he yelps and leans to one side, easing up off of one foot. He must have hurt it in the fall and your expression drops watching his smile falter, brows creasing in clear discomfort.

♡ Kalim’s still reassuring you he’s fine despite the fact that he’s visibly doing his best to put as little weight on his one foot as possible. You aren’t convinced in the slightest, and after a few seconds of him talking you’ve had enough; he doesn’t notice you nodding to yourself as you roll up your sleeves, but he does catch your mutter of “Don’t worry - I’ve got this.” as you step forward and place a hand on his back.

♡ You move carefully so as to not agitate the leg more than you have to, tucking your free hand under his knees and easing him off of his feet until you’re carrying his full weight, keeping him upright like it’s nothing at all. Kalim, for what it’s worth, is captivated by the strength, but he’s more focused on asking if you’re really okay with carrying him - he’s fine, he swears! (he’s not). Paying no heed to that, you nudge the boxes over to the side of the hallway with your legs, leaving them in a messy but contained pile to avoid anyone tripping on them while you’re gone. They can be sorted later, is your excuse as you start walking - he’s going straight to the infirmary, and then back to his dorm, the boxes can wait a little longer.

♡ He squirms a bit, but that’s only so that he can wrap his arms around your neck, bringing his head close to your shoulder. Kalim knows that he’s not gonna convince you otherwise, so why not enjoy the ride while it lasts? Besides, it’s nice to feel weightless sometimes! And he’s so sincere when he gushes about how strong you are that you can’t help but preen under the compliments, boasting a little about how you’ll have to properly show off just how strong you are. Some other time though, because as nice as pleasant as it is carrying the dorm leader around, you can do that just as easily once he’s been seen by the school nurse.

Vil

♡ You may not look like you’re that strong but looks can be deceiving. You’re more built than a lot of people realize - sure, it may not look like that to others, but these uniforms do a damn better job of hiding your strength than one might think. Friends and those who have seen it for themselves know that you’re strong, and Vil is one of them; you make no show of hiding that fact, because why would you? It’s something you’re proud of, and you use it to your advantage whenever the chance calls for it, and Vil’s not one to stop you from doing so.

♡ You also don’t shy away from challenges either, if anything they’re one of your weaknesses. Confident in your strength, any time someone questions it you’re eager to jump right in and prove them otherwise. Usually they’re arguments you’ve heard a hundred times before, the same old story as far as you’re concerned, that doesn’t mean the comments don’t tick you off though. Scrawny scrapper this, all bark and no bite that, it gets on your nerves that just because you don’t look that strong they immediately assume that you’re just weak.

♡ It’s a sore topic, and as such Vil can usually pinpoint the trouble that brews as a result of such challenges because of the way you react to such jeers. He’s attempted to ease your anger about it in the past, or at least told you to go easy on said challengers lest you get sent to Crewel’s office again, and for what it’s worth you’ve made fair progress in brushing off most comments.

♡ This time it appears that brushing them off isn’t quite so easy. Your voice can be heard even before you storm into the main hall accompanied by another student, and your planned curse filters off into a hiss to just leave it when you catch sight of Vil out of the corner of your eye. The student however doesn’t let up, and the dorm head soon catches wind of what this is about when he hears “Strong? Seriously? Pff, do you even have any muscles?” Vil can see the way your lip curls back into a snarl, and he turns his full attention to the scene just waiting for the inevitable show of strength you’re about to pull off. You do this every time without fail, and it’s only proven when you snap.

♡ “Oh yeah? Well, do you think someone without muscles can do this?” Vil’s halfway through taking stock of all of the items not bolted to the floor when you spin around and stride over to him, the confident shout of “Vil!” being one of the few warnings that he gets before you’re standing before him and wrapping your arms around him. It’s quick and smoother than he thought it’d be, and were this not the first time you’ve attempted this trick on him Vil could swear you’ve practised this before. Granted, you stumble a little near the end, but that’s more so because you overestimated the swoop of pulling him up into your arms and knocked your hip into a table in the process. Besides that it’s an otherwise practised landing, and suddenly Vil finds himself swept up into a bridal carry by a pair of surprisingly firm arms.

♡ You spin back around, triumphant grin on your face as you heft Vil up even higher, like a child proudly showing off their prize to anyone watching. True, you’re strong, and there’s not a moment that Vil feels like he’s going to fall out of your arms when you’re holding him, but the lack of warning and the abruptness of being hoisted up as though he weighs nothing more than a bag of feathers makes for a jarring situation. Your shout of “Ha! Believe me now?” doesn’t make the situation much better, and Vil has to rub his temples to stop the incoming stress lines at the amount of eyes you’ve drawn to your little display in the process of your shouting.

♡ Whatever challenge had been posed seems to have been sated by your show of strength, as the student throws up their hands in a mock-surrender as they concede, shrugging off the surprise that Vil can see clear as day on their faces. Clearly, they weren’t expecting you to be so brazen about showing off, but you’ve never been one to clam up when there’s a point to be made.

♡ Satisfied, you let out a huff and drop down onto one of the nearby chairs, shaking your head as you grumble “Can you believe that guy? Teach him not to doubt me next time.” It seems you’ve neglected to remember exactly who you picked up, and Vil’s swift to remind you with a soft cough to direct your attention back towards him. You look down at the dorm leader still firmly settled in your arms, lips pursing as you exhale a breath to mask your obvious realization upon meeting eyes with him.

♡ Muttering an apology, you gradually release your grip, giving him ample time to rise back to his feet and you let out a nervous chuckle when he folds his arms across his chest and gives you a stern gaze. Thankfully you’re let off with a chide of giving someone a warning the next time you decide to pick them up, but he doesn’t miss your grin as you parrot back “Next time?”

Idia

♡ Idia had gotten hurt. Those are the only words you needed to hear before you dropped everything and raced over to his bedroom, already thinking of the worst case scenarios. I mean, for a guy who spends the majority of time in his room there’s only so many ways he can get hurt, and none of them are a pleasing thought so you do your best to quash the thoughts till you actually get there to see him for yourself.

♡ When you first step inside his room nothing’s out of the ordinary, as far as you’re aware nothing’s been destroyed and besides the usual controlled chaos everything seems to have been moved out of place. Idia’s even sat at his computer chair which isn’t an unusual sight, though as you get closer you realize he’s got one of his legs pulled up against his chest, hands cradling his foot with a sour expression that morphs into discomfort each time he makes a move to roll the appendage to one side. That sour look doesn’t dissipate when he notices you, but he does jump a bit when you announce your presence by rounding the chair and leaning onto the one arm, leaning down as you ask what happened.

♡ You’ve gathered that he’s hurt his foot, you just don’t know how and as he hunches over even more in his chair you perk up, noting his reluctance. He doesn’t tell you, not at first, but with a bit of prodding he eventually caves that maybe he kind of accidentally got his feet tangled up in the wires under his gaming desk and got yanked right out of his chair when he’d finally pushed himself away from his computer. He hadn’t thought anything of it (besides the obvious embarrassment of getting tripped up in the first place) but the moment he’d tried to stand up it was clear that something had rolled the wrong way, which is precisely what led to him huddled up in his chair glaring daggers at the injured foot as though that’s going to magically fix the injury sustained.

♡ Admittedly, the image of the whole scenario would have made you laugh, but for the sake of your friend (and the fact that he glowers at you when your lip trembles trying to fight back a chuckle) you don’t, instead giving the simmering dorm leader a comforting pat on the shoulder reassuring him that he’ll be fine. Chances are it’s just sore from landing the wrong way - you’ll know for sure once he gets seen by the nurse.

♡ However, when you tell him that he hunkers down, insisting that he’s not budging; it’ll be fine if he just sleeps it off, is his argument, adding that it’s not like he can go anywhere since he’d rather stay put - what’s he gonna do, hop the whole way to the infirmary? Obviously not.

♡ You frown at his stubbornness, but give a determined huff as you hop off of the arm of the chair with a “fine.”. Idia’s surprised that you’re not fighting his decision more, but that surprise lasts but a moment until you lean down and promptly pluck the dorm leader right out of his seat. He just about chokes on his words and twists about in your arms, but you don’t even bat an eye at it as you shift him around until you’re cradling him close to your chest, eventually just settling on a princess carry for the sake of simplicity.

♡ When Idia cries out, asking what you’re doing, you merely shrug and offer “Since you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.” as your explanation. He balks at the notion, but doesn’t really have a leg to stand on when you pull him even closer to you, holding firm to make sure he doesn’t fall.

♡ His hair tickles your nose each time he shifts about in your arms, which you promptly pat back down as gently as you can as you move towards the door, nudging it open with your hip until you can slide the pair of you through the gap. You make a point of ignoring his protest of staying put until he finally relents and settles into you, arms folded across his chest as he leans back. His hair frames his face like he’s trying to hide in the thick blue flames, but even you don’t miss the fact that his expression, once twisted in discomfort, eases up into something more comfortable now that the pressure’s off of his injured foot.

Malleus

♡ You’d like to think that you’re pretty strong, stronger than people give you credit for at least. And you also like to think that your strength is appreciated by the people who know about your carefully honed skill. Lilia is one such person, as he seems to be particularly amused by just how easily you’re able to heft and move things about, be it both objects and people. He’s especially entertained when it’s people, and it’s because of your penchant for carrying people around to show off that you end up with the third-year student bundled up in your arms as you travel through the Diasomnia dorm.

♡ The only indication the others have of the event is when you promptly come striding into the room, arms wrapped around Lilia's waist and hoisting him effortlessly up into the air as you enter. Malleus looks up from what he’s doing to watch the curious display, and upon spotting the fae you shift Lilia's weight to release one hand and wave, grinning as you swivel around and begin moving towards his direction. You’re keeping the Diasomnia student upright with ease, showing no signs of fatigue or strain as you carry him around, coming to stand behind the sofa that Malleus is sitting on and leaning over with a nonchalant question about what he’s doing.

♡ Malleus raises a brow, unsure whether to answer you or ask what exactly you’re doing with Lilia first. Before he can decide however Lilia gives you a gentle nudge to be let down and you take the hint, proceeding to lean over the sofa and drop him none-too-gently onto the seat beside Malleus. The cushions bounce when he lands on them, and though disheveled from all the carrying and the drop, Lilia looks thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal,

♡ You catch Malleus glancing between you and Lilia, and though you couldn’t hazard a guess as to what he’s thinking you lean forward and chuckle, jokingly asking “Want me to try you next?” as you rest your arms on the back of the sofa. The smile on your face falters a little when you don’t immediately get a response, locking eyes with him for a few seconds too long. When he nods you have to fight every muscle in your face not to look surprised, and you don’t trust your voice to get the words out in response, instead returning the gesture with a blank nod of your own.

♡ The last thing you expected was for him to agree, but you’re never one to back down from a challenge and soon enough you’re standing face to face with the dragon prince once he stands up and rounds the sofa so that you’re standing in front of each other. You’re doing the mental maths in your head as you size up the dorm head. It’s not picking him up that’s gonna be a problem - you’re pretty sure the Leech twins weigh more than him and you’ve been able to carry both at the same time once before (when Floyd wasn’t intentionally wriggling around in your arms that is.) It’s figuring out the best way to carry him that’s the problem; you’re not sure a fireman carry would be the most dignified look for the dorm head, and just giving him a piggyback probably wouldn’t be too effective if you want to avoid knocking his head against something while you’re running around.

♡ It takes a moment but you don’t leave Malleus standing there for very long before you take a step forward, moving to place a hand on his back while reiterating if it’s okay for you to still do this. The noise of confirmation steels your resolve and in the next moment you quite literally sweep Malleus off of his feet and into the air, landing safely in your arms; he lets out a sharp inhale at the sudden action, but is more surprised at the fact that you’re able to carry him with such ease, even flashing him a confident grin as you begin to sidle around the room, making sure that he remains firmly tucked in your arms as you do so.

♡ The experience is interesting, to say the least - Malleus isn’t uncomfortable, if anything it’s actually rather nice to feel so weightless in someone’s arms. Not to mention it’s not something Malleus has been able to recently experience, so . You on the other hand are having a great time with it; you get used to carrying him quickly, and despite the initial worry of getting stabbed in the face with his horns you realize there’s nothing to worry about - it’s going pretty well.

♡ That is until Sebek enters the room and spots you cradling the young lord in your arms, and he shouts loud enough that you all whip around to face him. You’re undeterred by the shout, if anything you just assume that the first year wants a turn so you gently place Malleus back onto his feet, giving his uniform a cursory once over to make sure he’s okay before you back away. Malleus gives you an inquisitive look, watching you as you skip away, racing over to where Sebek’s standing with arms outstretched ready to scoop him into your arms, laughing when the student all but dives out of your reach the moment you approach him.

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lazypeachsoul · 3 years

Text

are you thanking me or your god? - u.r.

Pairing: Uhtred Ragnarsson x fem!reader.

Request: by @viktoria12 “Hey can you write a imagine with Uhtred? The content is up to you🙏”

Warnings: Nothing.

Word count: 1.601 words.

A/N: I have to admit this was a bit tricky because I've never read uhtred imagines. But it was fun, i really like uhtred as a character. i hope you like it and I'm sorry it has taken me some time to post it.

Masterlist.

To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!

Winchester was the busiest it had been in a long time. With the coming of spring, the merchants were returning to the city to trade and spending too much time around the alehouse. Spirits were high after the blessing given by the priest on Easter and the year was expected to be calm and fruitful. Except for the danes lurking in the surrounding areas. But nobody would dare talk about that when it’s the Lord’s day.

Good weather meant people would go outside more, and therefore more gossip. Every turn you took on your way to the market, you would hear a different rumour. Most were about the health of the king, some were about the threat of a battle. You even heard one about danes walking around the city freely.

But your head was too centered on the task at hand. Abbess Hild had asked you to go to the market for flour and other necessities, and you wouldn’t dare disappoint the Abbess. You weren’t even a nun and you still followed her orders like a soldier.

Your house was close to the convent and, ever since you walked past the gates and into their garden when you were young, they had treated you like their family. Sometimes too much when it came to the boys your age. But they were only trying to protect you.

Sister Hild, later Abbess, had always surprised you. Not only did she have a strong will and personality, she was also physically strong. More than what a woman of god should be. but still, with all her strength, she needed you to go buy the necessities that they couldn’t get from their garden.

Too distracted by your thoughts and the gossiping going around, you collided against someone making you almost tumble to the dirt floor. If it hadn’t been for a quick hand grabbing your dresses you would be covered in mud and other disgusting stuff.

Looking up you saw a scruffy looking man, but not in a bad way surprisingly. This man looked almost too different from what you were used to seeing around Winchester. Something about his reaction told you he was trained, and the scars in his hands and handsome face gave away he was probably a soldier. For who is what you were curious to know.

Realizing the compromising position you found yourself on, with a man holding your dress, you quickly tried to regain your balance. The man let go and you tried to stutter an apology, but your attempts were stopped by a sweet but authoritative voice behind you.

“Uhtred! I was looking for you, we need to discuss…” Her voice got interrupted when she recognized you in front of the man. “What are you doing here, darling? I thought you would be in the market by now.”

“I tried Abbes, I just had a little-” You tried to speak but were interrupted by a deep voice. In a normal situation you would be angry at such interruption, but when you heard the voice you couldn’t really care about it.

“We had a small incident, Hild. Don’t worry, nobody is hurt.”

The voice fit the man perfectly. With a deep voice he spoke calmly and yet you could pick up a joking tone towards the Abbess. Who is this uhtred man? Why is he joking with Hild? But wait, how does Hild even know a man like him?

Full of curiosity you realized you were still standing between them. Clearing your throat you nodded at Hild and turned around with a smile to your saviour.

“Thank you Lord for helping me. I’m in your debt.” Nodding your head you moved past them, not missing the small smile on the man's face.

“You owe nothing to him, young lady. He's heathen. He doesn’t deserve your compassion.”

A loud laugh was heard from the man along with what sounded like a smack, probably to the leather of his armour. The words of the Abbess circled your brain for the rest of the day. So he was a heathen, a friend of Hild and incredibly handsome. Great, what a mysterious man.

After your chores were done and you took some time to relax outside of your house, the world seemed to dissipate around you. The soft sound of quick steps and panting made you look up from your dress, breaking the peace of your surroundings.

Eanflæd was running towards you, people looking her way either worried or weirded out by your young friend’s race. She reached you just in time to ungracefully collapse on the bench you were sitting on.

“Is everything okay, Eanflæd? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast. Not even when the chickens escaped.”

She was trying to regain her breath, but took the time to pinch your arm for the reminder of the chicken run.

“You...you…” She panted before taking a big breath. “You weren’t going to tell me you have been seeing the Dane-slayer.”

“Who?” You couldn’t hide your surprise.

The only person you had seen outside your family was the man who sold you the produce for the abbey. And also that man…

“Are you talking about Uhtred?”

“You know him enough you don’t even talk about him like a lord?”

You tried to hide your laugh but a small snort came out.

“I don’t know him. He merely saved me from an ugly fall this morning.” Shrugging you tried to dismiss the gossip. “But you do seem to know about him, so tell me…”

The next day didn’t allow for much thinking about ‘the Dane-slayer’. You had been working non stop in your father’s farm and everything hurt. But your mother has asked you to take some fresh eggs to her friend, and you couldn’t say no to your mother’s gentle face.

It was late enough for the ruckus of the market to have died down, but not enough for it to be dangerous or improper for a young woman to be walking around unaccompanied.

Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t hear the neigh of the horse until it was too late for you to react. Looking at the animal getting closer you couldn’t help but try and pray that you would be saved, but no prayers came to your head at that moment.

Just when you were about to give up and close your eyes, something yanked you out of the way making you barely dodge the horse and the man on the cart who was yelling at you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, ears ringing and hands shaking. The eggs were no longer in your grasp but smashed against the floor, although in that moment you could make yourself care for them.

The same hand that had yanked you out of the way, spoon you around. Your saviour was none other than yesterday’s saviour. you really were in debt with this man now.

“Are you okay?” His voice was worried, a contrast to the day before’s joking tone.

Time seemed to slow while you assimilated what had happened. Probably too much time passed before you could answer but the man didn’t seem to care. When you could trust your voice to speak again, the words came out all at once.

“I was nearly trampled by someone’s horse in the street, but you stepped in just in time to get me out of the way even if it put you in danger as well.” He smiled at the jumbled words and after a deep breath you tried to regain your thoughts. “Thank you, lord.”

“Are you thanking me or your god?” Uhtred spoke and you knew he was trying to avoid your shock at the incident.

You thought about the answer and tried to smile, probably looking more like a grimace.

“Both? Yes, I think I’m thanking both.” Your voice lowered, probably to avoid other people hearing you talk that way about the Lord. “Both is good.”

He smiled and took a step back looking at you, probably checking for any injuries. The people of Winchester were used to accidents and didn’t normally care, but you could feel some stares on you. Probably because of Uhtred and his fame.

“You seem to be in one piece, can’t say the same for the eggs.” He pointed at the road.

“You have saved me twice now, lord. I might have to ignore the Abbess and ask you what I should do in return for you.”

“I wouldn’t ignore Hild. You don’t want to know what she can do with a sword.” He tried to dismiss the conversation but your curiosity only grew. “I only ask for one thing in return.”

You nodded, asking for him to continue and still trying to imagine Abbess hild wielding a sword. You knew he was a soldier, and a good one. But Hild? No, she was a woman of God.

“Stop distracting yourself when walking around. If you don’t you might end up like your eggs.”

“But if I stop getting distracted, what would you save me from, Dane-slayer?”

What possessed you in that moment to utter those words you couldn’t really say. You just knew it was not entirely proper and that if your mother heard your ear would hurt from the scolding. But the smirk on Uhtred’s face was worth it.

“So you know who I am. But I know nothing about you. Is that unfair?”

“I have my ways, Lord Uhtred. Maybe when you save me next time I could tell you something about myself.”

"Let's just hope it's not a dangerous situation then. Just to make sure you can tell me after."

taglist: @webreathfandoms

#the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom x reader #uhtred x reader #uhtred imagine #uhtred ragnarsson x reader #uhtred ragnarsson imagine #the last kingdom fanfic #myfic

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Text

A/N: Thank you hottie❤️ Tumblr was fucking with the format, so I had to repost. Anyways, I looovveee this request. I’ve been waiting to be in the right mood to write this. Like, jealous muscular himbos completely head over heels for their s/o? Sign me up.

Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy this, sugar plum

All characters are 18+

Warnings: smut below the line!

Katsuki Bakugo:

SFW

bakugo doesnt get jealous

he usually felt secure in your relationship

yeah he got annoyed when kaminari would jokingly flirt with you

and yes, it made him angry when the dekusquad would literally stare at you with puppy dog eyes

and it pissed him off when kirishima suddenly became the funniest guy in the room when you were around

but he wasn’t jealous

how could he be? he’s bakugo katsuki

you agreed to go out with him. the strongest. the best. you couldn't get any better than him

right?

lmao no

the bigger the ego, the more fragile it was

bakugo doesnt handle jealousy well

there’s a small part of him that knows he can be an asshole

he’s not the most...affectionate person

but damn it, if he doesnt try his hardest for you

you notice that he gets quieter but his actions become a lot more aggressive

he’s glaring at anyone that smiles at you

it’s honestly scarier than his threats

forces you to hold hands

is suddenly into PDA??? when he kissed you in front of your friends you literally made a face

you didn't know what was up with him, but you were really confused when you told him to chill and he visibility wilted

once he came around to telling you that he wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to leave him, you were quick to reassure him

give him a couple kisses and rub his ego just a tad, and he’ll be back to normal

acts like he didn't just look like he was about to cry two seconds ago

NSFW

there are two things that happen when bakugo gets jealous

at first, he’s very rough and handsy

he likes to talk big and say things like

“imma fuck you up when we get home”

“you like when daddy does that, sweetheart?”

“kiss it right there, baby”

“youre mine. tell me your mine”

he’s doing everything he can to get you screaming and thrashing

he’ll go down on you for hours, leave you trembling, only to tell you that was a warm-up

there’s this dark look in his eyes when he’s pounding into you, gripping the headboard so he can angle himself in the best position possible

it’s like he’s trying to prove himself by wrecking you

in the midst of your fucking, just when you feel like youre about to pass out, bakugo’s head falls on your shoulder

he’s still thrusting into you, but it gets slower and deeper

needier

now it’s not just fucking

looks into your eyes with the most adoring gaze and kisses the breath of out you

he can’t speak, too deep into your lovemaking to express how much he loves you

how he’s so scared of losing you

but you don’t need his words to understand

lock your legs around his hips and tell him how you’ll always be his and he will let out a moan that makes your toes curl

when you reach your high, it’s a vulnerable moment

lots of soft kisses and hugging

wont admit to the tears that sting his eyes but is willing to express his adornment for you through his embrace and aftercare

Todoroki Shouto:

SFW

todoroki doesnt have a lot of experience with jealousy

he knows what anger is

he’s felt insecurity

and he knows what it feels like to long for something or someone

but envy was a foreign concept to him

that was until he got into his first romantic relationship with you

don't get him wrong, he trusted you with everything

you gave him no reason to question your loyalty

and it never occurred to him that you would leave him for someone else because of how strong your love was for one another

however, his insecurities always got the best of him

he had a lot of baggage

he knew that

and when someone would approach you, someone that looked free-spirited and independent, he’d wonder if he was holding you back

even then, he can’t help but think that no one is worth the ground you walked on

not even himself sometimes

he never brings it up

but you notice that he started touching his scar a lot more

todoroki would try to act more extroverted thinking it would be better if he was livelier

youre deep talks about family matter diminished little by little

he tried to fill your comfortable silence with awkward conversation

you were so confused why your bf was acting so different

it took a couple attempts to get him to spill his thoughts

once he did, he’s stark quiet, looking away, fearing that you’d be so disappointed in him

but you just take his face in your hands and tell him

“you’re my whole world shouto. why would i ever give that up?”

he holds you in his arms for a long time after that

NSFW

behind his jealousy of onlooking eyes is a deep steed of low self-esteem

and you can feel it when you get intimate

he’s always looking to please you, but now he’s desperate, trying so hard to think of what will make you feel good

it makes you sad bc he already knows the answer to those questions

but he overthinks it

he’s noticeably shier

his touches are hesitant as he second-guesses himself

is continuously asking if you’re okay or if he’s doing it right

at one point, you have to take charge and push him down on the bed

“let me show you how much i want you. just you”

licks his lips as you kiss down his body

one of those guys that believes sucking his dick is a chore 💀

“you don't have to do that” face ass

so when you suck the soul out of him, he’s SPRUNG

would write a song about it if he could LMAO

quickly says he loves you before kissing you like the world depends on it as you ride him

twirl your hips in the way he likes and he’ll hiss out curses

run your hands through his hair and kiss his scar and he’ll give you such pretty moans

please tell him how beautiful he is and how much you love him

my mans will nut on the spot

after the first round, he regains his confidence and flips you on your hands and knees

before you even know what’s going on, he’s pounding into you, gripping your hips like a lifeline

now that he’s reminded that he’s your man, he spends the night realigning your spine

bc who could do it better?

Togata Mirio:

SFW

mirio is one of the most confident people ever

not only is he secure in himself, but he’s secure in your relationship

he knows he bagged a baddie

ofc people would be all over you

he couldn't blame them! i mean, look at you!

when people approached you, he usually let you handle it

if they were persistent, he would just put an arm around your waist

“you’ve got good taste, but they’re taken! sorry!”

it’s so wholesome that the other person can’t even find it within themselves to be upset

there was only one time he recalled getting genuinely jealous

it was during the time you two weren't exclusively dating

just going on dates to see how things went

at the same time, he overheard from your friend that your ex was trying to get back with you

when he heard that, he started sweating

it wasn't jealousy, but more like fear

he was determined not to lose you

not when things were going so well

mirio literally goes above and beyond on your dates

mans deadass learns how to cook all your favorite foods to bring to you

youre crying bc the seasoning was just *chef’s kiss*

brings you flowers at random times of the day

sends you pictures of things that remind him of you

you’re just soaking up all the attention

he’s always been an extra person so you didn't think much of it

it wasn't until you two were cuddling and watching a movie in his apartment that he confesses to you

“i know that i’m competing against history between you and your ex, but i want you to know that my feelings for you are strong, y/n. and i’ll do everything to prove to you that i can be the man of your dreams”

you stare at him before bringing him in for a kiss

“there’s a reason my ex is my ex”

“but--”

“just ask me to be yours already, mirio”

he didnt have to be told twice

NSFW

it was actually that same night that cuddling turned into something a little nastier

honestly, from then on, if you cuddled for more than 20min, there was a 99% chance yall end up fucking lmao

but that night, when he was kissing your neck and grinding his dick against you, he noticed your phone light up on the nightstand

you were too caught up in his fingers between your legs but he saw the text from your ex

it read: “i know this might be out of the blue, but would you wanna catch up over dinner sometime?”

now, mirio wasn't one to be spiteful

but he couldn't help but get a little heated

knowing your ex was trying to get back with you was way different than seeing it

a tiny switch goes off in his head and now he’s ready to make it known that you and him are together

you’re in heaven as mirio’s lips suck and nip at your neck and body

his head game is immaculate

turns you on your stomach so he can massage your back and ass before sliding into you

mirio holds your neck and gives you sloppy kisses as his hips swim into you

your phone lights up again and you can barely think straight when he gets rougher

starts pounding into you like he’s tryna put a baby in you whether it’s possible or not 💀

youre grabbing for anything you can hold as he starts whispering sweet nothings about how he’s gonna take care of you

whew...what a man yall 🥴

the entire time he’s wearing a shit-eating grin

bc he knows he won

might have accidentally sent your ex a voice recording of you moaning his name

oops

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

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