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obstinaterixatrix · 1 year ago

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Do u know any good mob psycho 100 fanfics?? Or authors??

well obviously my sister but I’m guessing you’re the same anon so 1) you already know her fics 2) you want different recs from what’s on her list (some of them being fics I rec’d to her lol). recs will skew heavily seri/rei and I’m just going through my bookmarks so it’s gonna be most recently read to oldest read. also seconding sister’s recs of bobmoss and crookedturtle. but I’ll add a fic from each anyway because I already wrote something for one while I was drafting this (oops)

Recollection by CowardlyBean

This is the journal of missing 31 year old Reigen Arataka, distributed with permission from friends and family. The version presented in this document has been kindly edited with added commentary by a loyal customer of his. -Editor’s Note

gen, experimental and in progress at 14k so definitely deserves more love than it’s getting. inspired by house of leaves; as the summary says, it’s some rando writing annotations about reigen’s journal, but Something Weird Is Going On. the 4th chapter updated so I actually need to catch up. also, sister rec’d this fic to me

Like Acid Reflux, or Love by partingxshot

Dating Reigen is like dating a single dad—only with more children, weirder scruples, and an extreme ruthlessness vis-à-vis group takoyaki discounts. He's not hot enough for this.

OR: "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates but with fifteen million teenagers.

OR: Outsider POV exploring Reigen’s dedication to his gaggle of bizarre children through an ill-fated dating attempt.

OR: Serizawa gets bruxism.

gen(/pre-relationship seri/rei), oneshot, 7k. oc/reigen breakup lmao. extremely funny concept, extremely good execution

Dream Dial by Alakazamboni

For the better part of nine years, Arataka has proudly worked in customer service at a behemoth of a company. At least, that's what he remembers, but a strange illness and a mysterious caller keeps trying to convince him otherwise. It doesn't help that this caller has the power to distort reality.

seri/rei, in progress, 16k. great uncanny atmosphere, and also reigen is trapped in time prison as a miserable office worker. hasn’t been updated for a while but read it anyway, the stoping point is fine

What We Make by crookedturtle

Reigen and Tome are kidnapped from the Spirits and Such office to be used as leverage against Mob. They have two goals: to contact the outside world, and keep each other safe. In doing so they engage in a dangerous game of lies and manipulation with their captors—a game with potentially deadly consequences.

gen (bg seri/rei), complete, 36k. Good for whump and high stakes interpersonal maneuvering & drama. I liked how the story extends beyond rescue and goes into how everyone navigates the fallout

Man's Best Friend by bobmoss

A cursed dog gets left at Spirits and Such. Anyone who pets it is doomed to die a horrible death.

Reigen, of course, pets it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. funny and cute and sweet :) there’s a very charming tentative & tender vibe

heart line by ruthwrites

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

seri/rei, oneshot, 6k. getting together fluff, a fun light read that also highlights serizawa’s insecurities—the internal narration has good character voice

If you won't believe me when I say it, believe me when I don't by deathdefied

Two years after Reigen invited Serizawa to work for him, he still can't quite categorize his feelings for his coworker. Instead of actually dealing with those feelings like an adult and talking to his friend, he decided to get really paranoid and overthink everything Serizawa does.

seri/rei, complete, 26k. reigen drives himself nuts lmao

Obvious by skeilig

Tome’s perspective on Reigen and Serizawa’s developing relationship.

gen (but about seri/rei), oneshot, 3k. I like outsider perspective getting together fics, especially when the perspective character is like ‘I’m actually not invested in this except when it affects me directly’

Cover Me by flecksofpoppy

Reigen’s shadow seems longer as the days move forward, more solitary. The cuts on his face heal and the ache in his bones go away, but a new sting replaces it. It’s loneliness, the thing he had managed to avoid ever since a primary school-aged kid who could make cups float stumbled into his office so many years ago.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. getting together fic that shows off a little of reigen’s gloomier side, it’s cute

loved you just a little too much by shcherbatskayas

You learn how to let go.

(It doesn't come naturally.)

gen(ish), oneshot, 2k. 2nd person character study of serizawa’s relationship with touichiro, I liked the ambivalence; effectively captures development over time with a relatively short wordcount.

offering genuine help with genuine results by suitablyskippy

“The curse was pretty clear on me not telling lies,” concedes Reigen. “It was pretty clear on me telling the truth. But,” as he lifts one finger, already sliding into the same educational tone he generally uses for imparting wisdom to Mob about life and love and the overall holistic benefits of making sure he’s always available for unexpected overtime work on weekends, “telling the truth isn’t necessarily the same as being honest, is it?”

“You’re the professional liar,” says Dimple. “You tell me.”

(Being cursed to only tell the truth and being cursed with Dimple as an employee are pretty much equally bad, as far as Reigen's stress levels are concerned.)

gen, oneshot, 2k. the tags include friends with no benefits whatsoever, which is very apt. Very funny to have reigen and dimple be petty and shady

a slightly more miraculous miracle by suitablyskippy

“Rumour has it that something impossible’s happened. Something that could never have happened. That shouldn’t have been able to happen.” In a single slick move Mezato produces a tiny voice recorder from an inside pocket, flips it open and active, and holds it up before Mob’s mouth to ask him, in a tone of devastating intensity: “Do you know anything about… a miracle, Mob-kun?”

Mob doesn’t hesitate. “We had maths homework to hand in,” he says. “But now we don’t have to. We don’t even have to go to the lesson.”

(The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Salt Middle School has been closed by an unexplained miracle, and the only thing wrong in Spice City is the fact that nothing is even slightly wrong at all.)

teru/mob, incomplete, 55k. for the most part I haven’t been repeating authors on this list, but listen. listen to me. I need you to listen. it is extremely unlikely for this fic to ever be completed. but hark, lest this sad probability turn you away and leave you dispassionately scrolling to the next fic, I need you (you specifically) to know that if I were in the same room as you, I would be wrestling the phone/mouse/trackpad/touchscreen/etc from your hands and furiously clicking the link. when I bookmarked this fic in 2017 I described it as having “some breathtakingly sensical prose and the funniest misunderstandings I’ve ever read”. trust me from seven years ago. open your heart.

skylight by inexhaustible

unconnected snapshots in what might, in some worlds, be something a little like recovery.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. character study that nails the tension of an escalating romantic atmosphere.

come on, come on, come over (take it off your shoulder) by mortarsmayfall

Reigen's free hand cradles Serizawa's head, curled under his ear just so to turn it for a better angle. He feels his pulse pound under Reigen's fingers, shivers just the slightest bit. If Reigen notices, he doesn't say anything about it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. when I first read this I saved it as a private bookmark because I was so embarrassed by the sheer intimacy of haircuts with severely unresolved sexual tension. I’m guessing this was written after studio bones gave us reigen cutting serizawa’s hair. crumbs no more; for once we had a feast to enjoy. short & sweet getting together fic

Off-White by reigreitz

Some habits are tells.

seri/rei, oneshot, 1k. snapshots of pre-relationship and established relationship scenes, I’m quite fond of it. on my first reading I’m pretty sure I remember not paying attention to the habit piece at all (even with it being right in the summary) so at the last scene I was hit by the double whammy of ‘oh so that was what serizawa was reacting to’ and ‘AW… THAT’S SWEET…’; I think the fic does a great job of hiding/not acknowledging certain things the perspective character knows and is reacting to, which makes it fun to reread and pinpoint what exactly serizawa’s previously more opaque train of thought was. like, it’s the same stuff, but you get to read into more nuance.

the seven stages of falling in love by reigen arataka by matsunoble

You suppose one of the weirdest times to realize you've fallen deeply and irrevocably in love is when it's fuck o'clock in the morning and you're blearily checking your fridge for leftover curry.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. I was quite taken by the mundane (and sometimes unappealing) descriptions of love, and I like when serizawa has the upper hand

Mr. Psychic by beefstatic

Looks like trouble in Spice City...

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. Serizawa Acts Like An Intimidating Bodyguard During Tense/Shady Situations. fun emphasis on that potential aspect of his character, I like how it’s done.

Late by hamlingo

For the first few days after hiring Serizawa, Reigen couldn’t help but be alarmed when the door opened at eight o’clock sharp in the mornings. He got used to it eventually, and in a month’s time he was more surprised when the door didn’t creak open right on time.

This was one of those mornings.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. this is actually among the first seri/rei fics I bookmarked so I can say with relative certainty that on may 20th 2017 I decided that maybe seri/rei was not just a joke of me indulging my own spurious unreasonable whims. fun character study and has that enjoyable tension of pleasant pre-relationship uncertainty.

Quiet Talks by krypkaktus

At some point, Reigen cutting his hair twice a month had turned into a mutual habit.

seri/rei, oneshot, 600 words. another charming snapshot of pre-relationship uncertainty, pleasantly embarrassing unresolved romantic tension.

walk in by ruthwrites

It was then he realized that the reason Reigen and Serizawa were standing so close was because they were kissing.

Mob was not really sure what to do with that information.

(or: mob leaves something at the office, comes back, and walks into something he wasn't supposed to)

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. an extremely popular fic for extremely valid reasons, this is a shining example of the outsider POV shipfic where the perspective character is like. I’m 14 and did not want to see you guys kissing. and the couple is like. we also did not want you to see us kissing, this is excruciatingly awkward.

tomorrow isn't always another day by suitablyskippy

It’s like Reigen’s been waiting for the question. He stops dead on the pavement, grips Mob by the shoulders, and stares down into his eyes with an expression as haunted as though every ghost the pair of them has ever exorcised has taken up residence behind it. “Mob,” he says. “Mob,” he says again. “Tell me, Mob. Look at me and tell me. Tell me truthfully. Do I look cursed to you?”

Mob looks at him, and tells him truthfully. “No.”

“Well, you didn’t look very long,” says Reigen. “Let’s just stand here for a moment, like so, and you can have another look, a nice long look, and really think about it...”

(There's nothing strange about being called back to exorcise the same haunted photocopier six days in a row. It must just be a very haunted photocopier.)

gen, oneshot, 18k. I didn’t mean to rec the same author three (3) times but this is also one of my top faves. extremely funny time prison where nobody is on the same page ever.

space voyage by Anonymous

Tome Kurata is slightly famous—or notorious, more like—for being... a weirdo, to put it simply. She's definitely a person of interest. Just not exactly in a newsworthy way, which is obviously the only way that matters.

mezato/tome, oneshot, 1k. charming pre-relationship contention, they’re the same type of self-absorbed and tunnel vision (affectionate)

I was thinking of not writing up recs for sister’s fics but since one author got three (3) fics on the list I’m gonna also put 3 of my fave fics of sister’s

Reigen's Comprehensive Fool-Proof Guide on How Not To Be Next Door Neighbors With Your Employee (because that'd just be creepy) by MalkyTop

Reigen hires Serizawa and they somehow end up as roommates.

seri/rei, complete, 17k. a fic sister wrote for ✨ME✨ that shows off reigen’s neuroticism and his decidedly not-normal attempts to come across as Extremely Normal, The Most Normal Man Alive. there are so many comedic setups and payoffs. there are so many shenanigans. reigen gets frog-boiled into romance. actually, I drop that term a lot but I’m not sure it’s a common enough to intuitively understand. it refers to the boiling frog metaphor

If At First You Don't Succeed, Find a Loophole by MalkyTop

Reigen keeps dying; Serizawa keeps trying to save him.

seri/rei, complete, 18k. sister was insane for this because she trapped all of her readers AND herself in time prison by releasing one chapter a day. it was really funny to witness because I was the only person not in time prison by virtue of editing privilege. while we were watching mondays: see you next week (an office time loop movie), sister was saying she was impressed at how effective/efficient the movie was at picking which scenes to repeat. this is to say, as someone who notices these details, sister was very intentional about when things changed and how things changed from the perspective of a character completely unaware of time prison. also, the emotional momentum is extremely good, I loved reading serizawa’s increasing desperation from reigen’s context-less perspective.

in absentia* by MalkyTop

After what was supposed to be a routine exorcism, Reigen wakes up in the wrong body.

serirei, complete, 26k. slowburn bodyswap with mystery and intrigue. a solid casefic! I can be biased and right. there are metanarrative elements that I find fun and that, in my opinion, highlights how sister did in fact get a degree in philosophy. there’s also some fun subtle and messy characterization notes, like when serizawa asks reigen not to cook for him. it’s hard to talk about what I like about this fic without giving away a lot of specifics, so go read it.

#orlbs #mp100lb #mob psycho 100 #long post #…I SPENT SO LONG ON THIS AND FORMATTED IT ALL ON MY PHONE SO EVERYBODY CLAP AND CHEER #why did I do it on my phone? bc I am lying in bed and didnt want to move #why did I spend so much time? bc I got carried away #why am I posting at 4am? stupidity.#why isn’t this under a readmore? because fic recs deserve to be seen. I’m adding an element of hostility for spice.#fanfiction #ask #anonymous #serirei real

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jnkangels · 1 year ago

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MEN AND MINORS DNI!! (Please do not interact with my content. I'M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION!!).

(Please note that English is not my first language, u can correct me if I make any mistakes without being rude).

౨ৎ

I was imagining how Sevika would fuck you before leaving for an important business trip.

Desire— A word that echoes through the brick walls of the luxurious hotel suite. Whispers filled with lust, suggestive kisses and the desire to possess something or someone. For one night only, we could dance to the beat of lust itself.

The agitated breathing of the opposite body, a beautiful symphony, that crashed against your lips. A hungry kiss begging for more contact as her hands cling tightly to your scalp.

Your skin shudders under the contact of her robust hands that trace a path through your curves with great agility; Your body is a perfect canvas. A light whisper comes from the lips of a very desperate Sevika: "Damn, I missed this so much" binds you to her like an oath.

Beyond the confines of the hotel lobby is an extended city silently witnessing the carnal pleasures that dwell within the walls. Sevika's curious hands continue to wander through the remote points of your body. Her tempting lips continue to leave soft wet kisses along your neck and collarbone.

"My flight leaves in 8 hours. I booked the usual room for both of us, honey." Those tantalizing words leave her lips as she continues to indiscreetly grope her. "We only have tonight before I leave, shall we make it memorable?"

Your silence stretched until you crashed your lips against her, signaling a clear answer. The moment you open the door, deja vu floods your mind; Memories make a whirlwind in your head. She's there, a white shirt loose against her chest, and the desire and uncertainty only amplify when Sevika's tone of voice becomes more demanding. "Come here."

You sneak up on her, the intoxicating aroma of her perfume combined with the strong smell of cigarettes makes your mind wander. Her lips crash together again, her hands travel to her breasts and she begins to play with your nipples, releasing fleeting moans from your lips.

From one moment to the next she gently holds your hips until she throws you onto the bed, her fingers lifting your dress enough so that her lust-injected eyes can search your hips, hypnotized by the way they hug the delicate black straps of your underwear.

"I just need to taste you one more time, babe." Her fingers tingle over your underwear, stimulating your most sensitive spot making you; your lips taste the obscene taste of her once again.

The way her calloused fingers pull down your underwear at a tortuous pace while teasing you for how needy you're for her touch. She starts kissing the inside of your thighs before spreading your legs wide, her head literally diving between your legs. Licking the stripe of your pussy as you let out loud moans at the sudden sensation. You tug at the strands of her dark hair as her velvety tongue lashes out at your pussy.

Sevika takes your legs to wrap them around her neck and spits against your already soaked pussy, before running her skillful tongue across your dripping pussy; enjoying your flavor. She continues alternating between licking and sucking, her nails digging into the sensitive skin of your thighs (That will leave marks the next morning), you bite your lips trying to suppress the moan.

"Don't hold back, honey. I want to hear it all." With that, her tongue managed to push her tongue further inside you, pushing it even deeper.

"Do you like that, love? Are you going to miss me when I'm gone? I bet you will. Go ahead, honey, be a good girl and cum for me." The mockery in her tone of voice becomes present, her movements become faster. and abrupt; finally drawing a heartbreaking moan from your lips.

She approaches you to join her lips with yours so you can taste your sweet essence. "Oh baby, that sounded so beautiful. Shall we say that again? Right now I'm going to fuck you for exactly the number of days you'll go without cumming on my fingers." She finally says with a sadistic smile painted on her lips.

like and reblog! ♡

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika smut #smut #sevika x y/n #sevika fic #arcane fic #lesbian #Sevika imagine #—cass writings

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just-my-type-x · 1 year ago

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Curly Heads and Caffe Lattes

A little something from me to u bc i had this idea rotting in my drafts for months now. Hope u enjoy it ♥️

Smut, mentions of alcohol

I walk inside the coffee shop and take in the comfy vibe of the dim lit room, with several tables and chairs for upcoming visitors. I sigh in relief when I see the coffee shop almost empty, the early morning not being suitable for everyone.

I order my coffee and I sit at a table close to the window, with a cozy view of the neighbourhood, and I take out my laptop to start working on my project. Deep inside my thoughts and several opened files on my computer, my attention is captured when a man starts swearing and the sound of spilled coffee makes me check my own table to see if my cup is still intact. I sigh in relief and check the incident out.

The curly headed man shakes his hands in a manner to get all the liquid off, while checking out his jeans and the bottom of his white shirt, while the barista is trying desperately to clean the counter and the cashier's machine. The barista mumbles a lot of sorry's, but the curly head keeps on assuring him everything is fine. He picks up his new coffee while he's looking around for a pack of napkins. I look on my table to check if there's any on mine and I pick it up, waving it towards him.

"Here. You look like you need it", I smile and he approaches me, smiling back.

"Thank you, tho it won't help me much.", he chuckles as he presses the napkins onto the fabric of his jeans.

"I heard cold water might help, tho I'm not sure your shirt is going to survive the coffee attack"

He laughs out loud and I smile, his laughter being way cuter than I expected. I take a sip of my drink to hold back the huge smile on my face.

"I'd probably give it to my mom. She handles everything, especially clothing emergencies. They're her favourite.", I chuckle at his confession and I nod.

"Same, whenever I need anything, I call for help. I send an SOS emoji and she sends me a full on screenshot of her notes. They're even sorted, stained clothes, salty food, headaches. Those are the problems and each has a solving.", I laugh and he joins me, which makes my cheeks burn.

"She sounds exactly like my mom.", he throws one last tissue in the bin close to our table. "I'm Brad.", he extends his arm towards me and I shake it happily.

"Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, what are you doing here? Actually no, let me try to figure you out on my own.", he narrows his look and studies me, looking me up and down. I turn my head away, smiling, unable to hold his eye contact anymore.

"Be my guest"

"You seem pretty basic", he says as he sits more comfortable in the chair right in front of me, leaning back.

"I beg your pardon", i blink a few times to see if i understood his stereotyping correctly.

"You look like the type of girl who wouldn't trade her caramel macchiato for anything in this world. You might've gotten the ham and mozzarella croissant as well, got it a little bit heated in the oven.", he checks our surroundings. "You got your laptop right there, you're probably behind with a uni project. The fact that you had time to put make up on shows you're not stressed about the deadline, because you know you're gonna nail the subject and you can touch all the topics in a short amount of time." Brad scans my face for any more clues, but i relax and let my frown disappear, switching to a mischievous grin on my face.

Brad smirks and takes a sip of his latte, pointing at me. "It's not that hard to read you. I've seen you around lately, which leads me to adding that you're here from another country, based on your accent. And", he raises his finger one more time, drawing a circle up in the air, "this is a café where the same 20 people from the neighbourhood come every day. I've only seen you in here since, I'd say... October? That's Uni schedule"

He intertwines his fingers together on the table and straighten his back, waiting for my approval, his smirk never leaving his face, which makes his dimples pop out. I smile and shake my head, leaning forward on the table, sitting just the way he does. We both look like we're about to spill some call-the-police worthy secrets.

"Trying to read me was pretty hot, I'm not gonna lie.", i lean back down on my chair. "Too bad you're too far off the map, Bradley.", i take a sip of my coffee and smirk at his confusion.

"Oh, really? Then tell me where I'm wrong. Is it the coffee? Is it a pumpkin spice?", we both laugh and i take off the plastic cap. "And why didn't you say you know me?"

"Nope. It's an unsweetened latte, actually i don't even know what's it called, it's 2 shots of espresso and some milk", i pause as we chuckle at my dumb self, who all of a sudden started looking inside the cup. "And it's nicer to have a normal and actual conversation with you, other than spoiling that I might know you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.", I take a sip from my cup.

"Are you a coffee fortune teller now?", he laughs and i hit his arm playfully.

"Yes, it says I'm gonna beat your ass up"

"Please don't, i need my face next week for our concert. And I really appreciate it, but it's fine, don't worry. Now, tell me, what else was wrong?", he intertwines his fingers on the table, waiting for my answers.

"I am working on a project, but not for Uni, it's for an agency. I'm way ahead of my Uni duty, thank you for underestimating me tho.", i tap him on the arm and sarcastically thank him, which makes us both laugh.

I turn off my laptop and put it inside my bag, carrying on with my conversation with Brad. We talk about how I moved to Birmingham for school and work opportunities and he listens carefully to everything I tell him that happened leading up to this moment. We order another set of coffees and I pick them up carefully, not like he did earlier. He talk about touring, his bar and songwriting.

"Oh, I wanna go to your parents' bar so badly. I didn't have enough free time to get there yet", I lay my hands on top of the table like I've just made a huge realisation. His eyes widen.

"You've been here for two months, y/n, stop overworking yourself. Tonight we're going out. How does that sound?", Brad smiles proudly and picks up his phone to check the time. It's 12, how does 6PM sound?"

"Uhhh I think it's ok?", I stutter but nod, smiling. "You don't have to do this, Brad. It's fine."

"It would be my pleasure. Plus, you saved my pants.", we laugh at his statement.

"That's a way of thanking me", I chuckle and we carry on with our coffees.

Hours pass and Brad and I pull up to the back entrance of the bar and he holds the door for me.

We get a table and he instructs the waiter to bring us their specialties, which I don't say no to. We munch on a few almonds and chips and we drink a little bit of everything, while talking about our lives and getting to know each other better. Later into the night, the music and the idea of dancing the night away is becoming more and more appealing to the both of us. As if he read my mind, Brad takes me by the hand and I follow him into a back room full of supplies, where the music is still loud enough to be heard by us. We end up dancing around, stumbling upon boxes of liquor and kicking down bags of all sorts of nuts.

"I'm a sure victim tonight if we break anything", he laughs as he picks up a bag off the floor.

"If anybody asks, I've never met you", I raise my hands in defence and I jump on a free table, sitting on it. I let out a yawn. Brad looks in my direction and approaches me, the same action of eyeing me up and down present. I smile and bite my lip, looking away from him, the alcohol and the entire day adding up to my growing frustration.

Brad touches my face gently and turns my face towards his, so I could look him in the eyes, but my eyes drop on his lips. I try to look up, but I find myself looking back at his lips. He licks his lips and I feel my body warming up. As if he knew, both his hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Wanna go out of here?", he asks, looking back and forth from my lips to my eyes.

"We live far from here", my voice comes out shaky, my breath heavy. I let out a muffled moan as he crashes his lips on mine and uses his hands to push my legs apart so he would fit between my legs, closing the distance between us. I part my lips, allowing his tongue to take full control over me and my feels. I grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, my free hand travelling down his torso.

"Fuck", he whispers, kissing abd biting my jaw. His hands grab me by my hips and squeeze with force, making me gasp in slight pain. Brad moves his hands higher, grabbing the hem of my blouse and hiding his hands under it, rubbing the exposed skin. I do the same, but i pull his sweater up, until he takes it off by himself. He allows me to trace his torso with my finger, while my eyes expect his chest and abdomen.

"That's too much staring, love, i don't have the patience for that", he smirks and i bite my lip, pulling him back into a kiss. He takes off my top and kisses my breasts, pushing me to get lower on the table so he could have full access to my jeans. "May i?", he looks at me with a raised eyebrow and i nod. He kisses under my belly button and i chuckle.

Brad takes off my jeans and I'm quick to unzip his, letting gravity do it's thing.

Brad's hot breath falls on top of my chest as he lets out a soft laugh. His fingers run softly on my leg, drawing small circles on my skin, teasing me. His fingers find their way between my legs and he traces the outline of my pussy through the panties i wear. With my head fallen backwards, i moan frustrated when he takes his hand away, only to take off my bra.

"I just want you to know that I'm not like this usually", I say breathing heavily.

"Like this meaning so fucking horny, wet and so desperate for me to fuck you?", he smirks on the side of my neck, his lips pressing on my hot flesh. Kissing down my neck, he bites on my collar bone, his hand wrapping around my neck, only for him to drag it downwards, over my exposed chest and breasts.

"You get what i mean", i whimper almost, as his fingers start teasing me again through the fabric

"Don't worry, love, it's been enough stereotypes for one day.", he laughs and kisses me one more time before taking my panties off. He takes off his boxers and i stare respectfully at his length, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Brad grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on himself, positioning the tip at my entrance. We gasp when he is fully inside, the fullness feeling unbeatable all of a sudden.

"Fuck, move Bradley", i grab on his shoulders and he pulls me closer to his body, his hands on my back.

Brad moves slowly in and out of me, sighing and holding back his moans.

"You're so tight, fuck. You feel so good, y/n", he grabs my hair in his fist, giving himself enough space to bury his head in the crook of my neck. I try holding back my moans with every stroke, and i let go of Brad's shoulders and i lean back on the table. He wastes no time and grabs my hips harshly, building up the speed. "What a sight, oh my God", he groans and throws one of my legs on his shoulder. I bite my hand in order to stop a loud moan to come out and he chuckles. "Let it out, babe. I know it feels good"

"It feels amazing, keep going like this", i plead and he keeps pushing hard between my legs. The rhythm makes me lose my mind and i feel the familiar tingling feeling building inside my body. "I'm close"

Brad squeezes my hips harder, building up his pace. I throw my head back and arch my back, my body trembling from the intensity of the moment. Brad's orgasm follows soon after, his moans proving me that he enjoyed it as much as i did.

We get back to our senses and get dressed, both of us still breathing heavily and smiling.

"Thank you for that, i didn't realise how much i needed that", i say as i run my hands through my hair.

He walks next to me and kisses me quickly. "It was amazing. I'm sorry for the circumstances, i promise next time it'll be in a proper location", we both laugh

"I'm patiently waiting for that next time.", i wink at him and i start walking towards the door, him following close behind.

"Hmm, tomorrow?"

I laugh at his impatience. "I'll make it work", i shake my head,smiling

"Perfect"

#brad simpson #brad simpson imagine #brad simpson smut

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likae · 5 months ago

Note

Bewitched

starring : agatha harkness x fem reader

sypnosis : an infamous witch welcomes herself in to westview. you find yourself letting go of your negative emotions for her. time and an unfound tune finds itself welcoming her into your heart. one-sided? so you thought, until you find yourself falling asleep.

content : absolute pining. a chunk of angst but funny and lighthearted moments topple over it. fluff. enemies to friends to bestfriends to lovers.

word count : 8,119

to anonymous : hello! thank you so, so, sooo much for your request. u have no idea just how much joy leaped out of my chest when i saw my inbox containing a message for me. i hope you enjoy reading, and i hope you like it.

author’s words : guys… this might’ve been common sense, but i failed to understand beforehand that you could only reply to inbox messages once, hence it disappears away. a lesson learned for me, indeed. also, requests may take a while for me to write, so please keep this in mind before sending it to the birdie! i am also incredibly grateful and overwhelmed by the amount of love and support i received on my previous fanfic. i didn’t expect it, and i am in tears [sob], tysm u sweeties.

You stepped out to the block, saying goodbye to the kind cashier with two full bags in hand. Your muscles were already straining with how full and heavy it was. You sighed heavily, brushing hair strands away from your face using your forearm. The sunlight was getting to you: the heat, the brightness, and that itching feeling down your throat. You drank water in hopes of it going away earlier, but to your dismay—it hasn't.

You begrudgingly take a look at the street, mentally preparing yourself for the eight-block walk you were going to take. You muttered annoyances under your breath, truly wishing your car hadn't broken down two days prior. You took a deep breath and started to take those steps, reminding yourself that you had a place to be. Reaching the end of the sidewalk, you took a sharp turn, grimacing against the sunlight that hit you even harder than it did earlier; the lack of awnings in this part of the street getting to you.

Squinting against the sunlight, you made out two figures in the distance. As you took a step closer, the whispers that filled the air reached your ears. You slowly came to a halt—the dry air clinging to your skin more than it already was. And you felt it: that sickly, stifling air that could swallow you whole. Whispers resided in all of Westview; murmurs took place where they shouldn't. The burning gossips that fell from the residents' tongues rang loud and clear in your ear—and frankly, you couldn't quite blame them.

"Seriously. None of the people who forgave her are in their right minds—especially that one girl who's practically become her best friend," one whispered, gesticulating her point.

"I really pity her. I mean, for all we know, she could be bewitched by the witch!" Another joked, cackling at what she deemed a funny remark.

You froze—the wind getting knocked out of your lungs. It was an ugly feeling—one that didn't paint a pretty picture. Having been one of the victims of the Westview hex years ago, you understood where they were coming from and why they felt the way they did. Yet, a part of you wished that more people would try to get to know her better—especially, and very especially, because she was trying.

One of the chatty gossipers noticed your presence and elbowed the other—their voices becoming quieter. Their figures shrank a little, huddling closer to each other. You gave a kind smile, wiping the sweat from off your forehead using your sleeve—nerves overtaking you. Stepping forward, you approached them.

"Hi!" You warmly greeted. They jumped a little out of their skin, unsure what to make of the situation. You were going to extend your right hand to shake theirs, only to be bogged down by the heavy bags you were carrying. You let out an awkward chuckle, averting eye contact. The two women also let out awkward chuckles before one of them started speaking.

"Hey, um... we're so sorry about—," the taller of the two frantically spoke before you cut her off.

"No, no, no—please. It's okay! I assure you that I understand," you rushed to speak. The two women stayed stunned—surprise written on their faces. You lowered your head, trying to make out words you haven't quite thought of yet.

"I, uh… I know it's not my place to say anything, especially with what's happened. I very much understand the pain you went through. I just hope that, one day, Agatha's sincerity reaches you both. Just as it did me," you started; the mention of her name earned visceral reactions out of them.

You took a deep breath and continued. "I truly do think she's trying her best. Believe me—I see how hard she's been working to make things right," you paused, picking up every thread of courage you possibly could. You looked up to both of them, meeting their eyes. "And, if you would like, there's a party we're hosting later this afternoon. No funny business, promise! It's just a little fun gathering. I just hope you'll give her a chance—no matter how small it may be."

They both spared hesitating glances at each other as if they both had the same thoughts on the matter. They looked at you again, meeting them with nothing but hopeful eyes. The taller woman gave a small smile, sparing a look at the splash of loud colors the bags you carried had. She formed words with her mouth, but none came out as she glanced at the shorter woman—an unsaid ask of permission. The shorter woman sighed, her eyes flickering between you and the bags. "You need a ride, dear?"

The invitation had taken you aback. It was a friendly offer—one that safely stayed away from rejecting your party invitation and one that seemed like an attempt at friendship. You hesitated, contemplating on the spot to choose between two words: yes or no. Before you could choose, however, you caught a glimpse of the other woman wearing an earnest look on her face. To that, you can't possibly refuse.

You smiled and accepted the offer. The taller of the two beamed at you and opened the door to the backseat. She motioned for you to go in, and you warmly thanked her, sliding in the leather car seats. The car door let out a small thud having been shut. You laid the heavy bags on the floor—your back easing and muscles relaxing. A small sigh left your lips; the heat and exhaustion slowly creeping up your body.

Both women climbed into the front seats, and before you knew it, the car whirred alive. The air conditioning blasted on, and it hit you like the first sip of water during the summer heat. Both women already seemed to know where you were heading, taking the road that led to Agatha's house. You couldn't help but smile a little; they were strangers, yet they knew where you spent most of your time. But you suppose it would make sense: chatterboxes do need material to work with.

You closed your eyes, and that uncomfortable feeling in your throat became even more noticeable. You let out a small cough, and yet it didn't make it any better. You let out consecutive coughs, failing to relieve that itch every single time.

"You okay?" The taller woman spoke. You gave a small nod.

"Did you walk all the way to the store, dear?" The other woman spared a glance at you through the rearview mirror.

"Yeah!" You said rather enthusiastically, earning a stern look from her. You stopped yourself from giving a cheesy smile—a floaty feeling overtaking you, having thought of your favorite person. You coughed yet again.

"You might be coming down with something, sweetie," the taller of the two spoke. You blinked your eyes a few times before it settled in. You hadn't given being sick a single thought. No, that couldn’t be! You were fine just earlier; it would be absurd to suddenly get ill.

After some time, the car came to a stop. You looked out the window and found yourself to be greeted by the greens and gravel of Agatha's yard. You quickly thanked both of the kind women, exchanging awkward goodbyes as they eyed the front door rather stiffly. You grabbed your heavy bags and bade them goodbye once more, rushing to get to the front porch.

You opened the front door, being affectionately greeted by Señor Scratchy. You wooed sweet nothings to the cute bunny, hopping up and down in front of you. Your muscles begged for relief, so you made a beeline to the kitchen counter, plopping the heavy bags with a loud thud.

"Whoa, whoa. Careful now," a voice from behind you spoke. Butterflies immediately erupted in your stomach—a feeling you have learned to suppress. The air subtly shifted as the space radiated her energy—the energy you found yourself drawn to. "I wouldn't want my counters to be riddled with scratches," she stood beside you—eyebrows furrowed—inspecting the surface you had just assaulted with the bags. Ignoring the fuzzy feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, you couldn't help but laugh. "Why, hello to you too, Agatha."

"Why, hello, hon." Pang! A pet name. That darned pet name. That same floaty feeling from earlier took over your body, unable to contain a cheesy smile this time. She took a look at the items in the bags, meticulously looking through each and every one of them: party decorations, food, toiletries, etc. You didn't stop staring, fully focused on how immersed she was.

A part of her hair falls to the side of her face—effectively covering your view. Without much thought, you took it upon yourself to tuck it back behind her ear—leaning closer. Your fingers brushed her skin, and electricity shot through your body—suddenly reminded of how close you were. She didn't react, her focus reeled in by the items you bought for her. Not to mention, physical touch wasn't exactly something new to the both of you. You had your fair share of affectionate moments. You just didn't know when your feelings for her shifted between that of a friend to that of a woman you were so in love with.

Your fingers lingered a little longer than needed in her hair, softly pulling away when realization dawned on you. Agatha stayed quiet, murmuring a chorus of "found its" and "hms." You turned around, berating yourself to chillax, being met by Señor Scratchy again, his nose twitching in greeting. You got down on your knees and laid kisses on him, softly cooing praises over how adorable he was.

A chuckle erupted from behind you.

"What are you laughing' at, hm?" You asked coolly—albeit having failed, as the corners of your mouth curved upwards.

"Nothing," she teased. You quirked an eyebrow up, a gesture of challenge, your hands still squishing Scratchy’s cheeks.

Agatha smiled and continued to unpack the bags. "I know my text was out of the blue, so thank you for running to the store, hon. That was very kind of you."

Trying to fight an incoming smile, you kissed Señor Scratchy one last time before getting up off your knees. "Of course, no problem at all!"

She glanced your way with a smile and took one of the party decorations you had bought. She walked over to the other side of the counter, eyeing the space above the kitchen cupboards. You couldn't help but admire just how much effort she was putting into throwing this party. You walked over to the place you were at earlier—where a phantom of Agatha stood. You propped your elbows up on the counter, chin resting in your hands.

Agatha spoke again, "Also, why were you hitching a ride with those two? Didn't you drive to the store yourself?" Your fingers stopped tapping to an unheard beat on the sides of your cheek, essentially frozen mid-tap.

A beat.

"Hon?" She turned around to look at you, party decoration still in her hand.

"Yeah, no, uh, they were kind enough to offer me a ride to your place," you offered a small smile. Taking your elbows off the counter, you find yourself urgently looking for something to do, your eyes catching sight of the messily laid out napkins.

"'Ride to my place?' What about getting to the store?" She queried—unamused.

"Uh... y'know! Just, you know!" You beat around the bush, wishing she wouldn't press further—especially since she wouldn't like the answer. You arranged the napkins neatly, hoping these white sheets would offer you refuge.

"Hon." Her voice flattened, and that was exactly the tone you wished she wouldn't use.

"I walked! No big deal!" You put your hands up comedically for your defense, hoping she would find the situation funny.

"You walked? In this heat?" Exasperation seeped out of her voice. So much for comedy. "Hon, I would've just driven to the store myself if that was the case!"

You rolled your eyes. "You were out making friends—with Sharon too! That's good! I'd rather you do that." Your voice seemed to carry thicker layers than indicated—something Agatha caught on to. Her eyes flickered with worry as she set the decoration down on the counter—gently—and stood opposite you, taking your hands in hers. You knew she noticed something was up, so you didn't pull your hands away from hers.

"Something up, hon?" You averted your gaze, only for her to cup your cheek, softly asking for you to look at her. You hesitatingly looked at her blue eyes—the very same that see through you. You were going to deny it, but her eyes prodded for honesty.

You sighed.

"No, it's just—you're doing great! Just, y'know... gossips... and stuff...," you mumbled, voice getting quieter by the end of it.

Agatha's eyes immediately pooled with heartache. And that hurt you. "Hon, I told you to—"

"No!" That one came out too strong, earning a surprised blink from Agatha, her hand lightly leaving your cheek.

Immediately correcting yourself, you spoke gently. "I mean, no! I'm not distancing myself from you, no way!" Visibly wincing from sounding too adamant, you smoothed it over with a series of lines.

"Besides! More people have come to love you, not just me. In no time—and I don't doubt it, not one bit—everyone will see you in a different light." A hopeful glimmer shined in your eye—something Agatha grew accustomed to. She just didn't know the uneasiness that settled in when you said the word "love," having been reminded of your own affection for her.

A moment of silence passes. Her face was a mixture of hope and worry at the same time. She seemed to take her time in collecting her words—her breathing pattern altering: sharp, shallow, sharp, sharp, shallow.

“Besides!” You abruptly spoke, “I have a feeling those two will come around. They just need time; we all do.”

She softly touched the in-betweens of your fingers, finding a place of her own there. Her fingers slid into yours without much resistance—her thumb drawing circles.

"Hon, you know I would take your love over all of Westview's combined. Yours is all I'll ever need," her eyes sparkled with seriousness. Your heart melted; her words of assurance reaching that part you've kept away from her: that gnawing worry that things would go south. Your mind has this pressing wish that Agatha would be able to live in a place where she felt accepted. Loved. Something she wasn't quite familiar with. And it hurt you. Westview has always been your home; you hoped it would be Agatha's too.

Agatha changed the patterns she drew on your knuckles, a subtle reminder to focus on her, knowing you had gotten caught up in your thoughts. You snapped out of it and met her eyes once more. Written behind those heartfelt eyes was an open letter of fondness written for you, reminding you of her adoration constantly. Just... not the kind you had hoped for. Your feelings seemed to dig deeper than friendship.

You gave a small smile. "More people are loving you." You broke eye contact and instead focused on how comforting the figure eights she drew on your hand were. You prolonged a blink—preparing to change the topic. "And we have a party to set up, don't you think?"

You pulled your hands away from hers, and she frowned. You laughed. "Don't pout those pretty lips, hon." You hoped that she wouldn't pry any further, purposely using her go-to nickname. You didn't want to dampen the mood, knowing that it was just one of those days. The days you got caught up in your feels. What a heartache.

You grabbed the closest bag and pulled it closer to you; rustling filled the air. You took a handful of smaller decorations; an idea plagued your head over where to put it, eyeing the kitchen table. She seemed to get the hint.

"Whatever." She got up, picking up the party decoration she set aside for you earlier. "And I don't like those two! They're the same jerks that—," she began, recalling an old tale she kept close to her heart. A grudge it truly was.

You sighed and dramatically rolled your eyes, laying out the purple-colored decor in the middle of the table. "Agatha, if you want the residents of—" She cut in. "—Westview to love you, you have to love them first."

You whipped your head in her direction, mouth agape. "Did I get that right, hon?" She sheepishly grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You huffed in feigned annoyance at having your line stolen.

"Aw, now. Don't pout. I can't help it if, inevitably, that phrase rings in my mind loud and true." She finished decorating one part and walked over to the bags to choose a different decoration. "A certain someone says it every chance she gets, y'see."

You feigned irritation. "Ugh! I do not!”

"Mimimimimimimi." She retorted. You couldn't help but laugh at that. But still, that was your line!

The entirety of Westview was caged in a sitcom play; one that nobody gave approval to. When the hex came down, it was like air filled your lungs again. Like freedom was at the very end of your fingertips, slowly making its way to your soul. Even breathing had been hard for a period of time, but it has come back to you now; the ability to choose came back to you, and that was all that mattered.

It hadn't been easy at first. Recovering from your mental prison—the role you were forced to play by a specific witch—was no easy feat. For a time, even you found yourself despising witches. Two of them, to be exact.

Everyone tried to find their rhythm in life again, coping by cursing at witches and feeding into that negative emotion they carried. Actually, not everyone. A select few seemed to stand on neutral or optimistic grounds; you hadn't been one of them.

Admittedly, days were filled with craze, and nights have been filled with frights. Yet, everyone tried not to speak of it—an unspoken consensus. Time had passed, and perhaps some citizens had found their tempo to living again. Until she came back around. And that was more than enough for this newfound beat to falter; most lost their footing with the sudden dissonance—you included.

When Agatha Harkness stepped into Westview again, news spread all through town; warnings were being uttered. It had reached everyone's ears, and they couldn't help but be cautious. Many had found themselves leaving, afraid of another curse to be placed upon them; fear struck others, and the rest remained indifferent. And you? It clawed at your brain. Restlessness grew deep within your heart, dread taking root. Anger bubbled inside you—hatred coming along with it.

But a day had passed. Then two. Then three. Then the fourth. But nothing happened. More news had spread, something about Agatha offering peace and intent apologies. It was... alarming. Not exactly the oppressive, demeaning witch you had in mind. But still: apologies just won't cut it.

You were apprehensive about stepping outside your home; the possibility of bumping into her weighed on your mind. You had heard more reports—specifically from your neighbors—that she, indeed, went around bearing gifts and uttered attempted apologies, the message not really coming across that way.

Admittedly, she had stopped by your residence, ringing the doorbell thrice. It took you one look through the peephole, and that was more than enough to send you spiraling in that cold feeling of fear. You stayed still—petrified. You hoped she would pass by yours without a single thought, pretending you weren't home, the eerie silence between you and the front door occupying the space within. It was quiet.

Until she spoke.

"I know you're home."

The blood in your veins froze. Your hands shaking—recounting every detail against your will when you were trapped in magic.

A short span of silence passed.

"Silence isn't going to make your lived-in space vacant," humor showing in her voice.

An itch clawed at you—one with incredulity.

"What? You using' your magic to spy on residents now?" You humorlessly retorted.

“You tell me. Is the car sitting in your driveway, the bright lights in your house, and the shadow I’m seeing behind the door magic?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

You haven't even met her face-to-face yet, but she was already getting on your nerves. All you wanted was to get back at her—no matter how pettily—completely forgetting about your initial fear. "Is this your attempt at an apology?"

"Not working?"

"No.”

"I'll try again."

And try again she did.

As the days passed, some people have gotten used to the witch's presence—a sign of acceptance. Most stayed opposed. Word has spread that she has been mingling with folks, opting to help around with mundane tasks; you're convinced to stay inside your safe abode all the more.

Your friendly neighbor, Sharon, spoke highly of Agatha. Saying something along the lines of her being a kind lady, but you swear half of the stuff the older woman recounted was dripping with sarcasm on the witch's part. You visibly rolled your eyes—something Sharon had to berate you for. She lightly hit your wrist with the scarf she carried. "You have to be kind," she scolded, dragging out the 'i' in 'kind.'

You played along with an 'ouch!' and rubbed your wrist with your other hand. "She can't even get your name right!"

"No, but she'll get it in no time," she offered.

"I got your name by the first time," you sternly rebutted.

"She's old," came her quick reply. You audibly laughed at that, and so did Sharon.

On the twelfth day, you couldn't push back on the grocery shopping any further. You dragged your feet on your wooden flooring, counting the steps you took to get to the front door. You breathed in deeply, whispering affirmations under your breath.

Grabbing your car keys, you made a run to your car, like it could offer you security. You collected your thoughts and drove to the supermarket, humming an unfound tune in hopes that it would calm your nerves a little.

You had just finished shopping, stepping out of the store with big, heavy bags in hand. You walked in quick, short steps; your eyes locked on to your car in the distance. Unfortunately, the tip of your shoe got caught in the asphalt, which made you trip. Bags fell from your grip, your patience hanging on a thread as your eyes caught sight of the splayed-out items. You couldn't help but let out a loud sigh, picking up a milk carton off the ground.

A figure loomed over your crouched stature, sparing a glance at whoever was standing to the side. What you didn't expect, however, was to see Agatha Harkness. Your body ran cold again, fear taking a life of its own. She must've noticed her eyes trailing to your shaking fingers. "I'm not here to hurt you, you know."

You scoffed, "That's what the red-headed witch said too." You started picking up your items quicker, fighting the involuntary shaking.

She let out a hum.

Finding threads of bravery, you couldn't help but let out a snarky remark, "Isn't helping the citizens of Westview kind of your thing now?"

She didn't say anything. Your outstretched hand reached over for one of the canned foods when all of a sudden your groceries started to float midair. Your eyes widened in surprise, turning your head to the dark-haired witch. "Hey!"

Her hands glowed purple, gently placing each object back in your bags. Fear struck you. Your eyes kept flitting between the items and Agatha, half-expecting some curse to be placed on you and your groceries. But she seemed serious in helping, the added weight in your hands becoming clearer. When she finished, you felt the weight in the bags heavier than it was earlier—unsure if you were still breathing. You stood there—shocked; she didn’t hurt you—that surprised you most. She gave a small smile. "Did you just... magic my groceries?" You stared in disbelief.

“What? Unlike what you… normal people like to think, magic isn’t all about curses,” she remarked dryly.

You scoffed, a comeback forming at the tip of your tongue, but you stopped; your shoulder tendons tugged tighter, an uncomfortable ache growing. And then a teasing look came on your face. “You want to apologize, no?”

She crossed her arms, weight shifting on one side of her leg. She raised an eyebrow—questioning where you were headed with this.

“Hmmm…,” you pretended to think, “what about… You do that floating thing with my grocery bags again, and you can consider yourself forgiven.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, like she was offended at your suggestion. Her mouth opened to say something but stopped herself; her eyes formed a striking thought. She heavily sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder in incredulousness; it was clear she was fighting something within her—whatever that may be.

“C’mon… magic my grocery bags,” you poked—lightly testing the waters. Was she truly as friendly as Sharon made her out to be?

It seemed that she had to bite an inch of herself away as she closed her eyes for a moment. Then, with magic, the bags in your hand lifted to the air subtly—a sign to let go. You loosened your grip, completely enamored with the gravity-defying show. As the bags went up, up, up, your excitement couldn’t be contained.

“Oh my gosh! It’s floating! Look, it’s actually floating!” You looked to the witch—enthusiasm bursting out.

She fights a smile.

“What?”

“Just a little while ago you were so against magic,” she commented.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, it’s a nice change when magic isn’t used on you,” you shot back.

You turned your back to her, making your way to your car. Soon enough, you felt a presence walking by your side, although you never made a move to look. The bags crinkled with the light breeze, effectively filling the air with some noise—which you thank, unsure of how much quiet you could stomach before losing it.

You reached your car and opened the trunk, gesturing for her to place the bags. You tried not to feel too awkward about it, unsure what to make of her. The shaking of your fingers stopped, and she didn’t seem half-bad. You spared a glance her way, her hands glowing that same purple as she lowered the grocery bags.

“Am I forgiven?”

You paused. “You are.”

She closed her eyes and breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Let me ask you something, though,” you started, leaning on your back trunk, which has now been shut. “Why are you staying around these parts? What’s with the sudden 180?”

She played with her hair, twirling it around her index finger; her lips pursed. “What’s it to you?”

“Everything,” you said rather impatiently. “It’s everything to all of Westview.”

She was going to say something before you interrupted. “The last time you witches came over, we suffered. We don’t need another hex-like tragedy. Do you even understand just how much it hurts to see you frolicking around?” You pressed further. She didn’t say anything, her eyes falling to the ground below. The sun shone more brightly than it did earlier—a shadow forming beneath her eyelashes.

Another breeze passed by, leaves whispering past your ear.

She didn’t say anything.

You sighed; that clearly didn’t answer any of your questions.

“Alright, then,” you said, pulling your back off the trunk. “I’ll ask another—why do you choose to stay?”

Agatha’s eyes met yours once more, but hers had this undeniable spark—one that seemed to have had an answer to this question the second she stepped into Westview. “No torches and pitchforks in sight—I’d say that’s a pretty good reason to stay.”

You blinked multiple times. “I’m sorry?”

She didn’t say anything again.

You shook your head.

“You need a better reason than that, no?”

As you spent more time with her, you started to notice that her patience was incredibly thin when she chose to make her smiles wider and her laughs even louder—underlying sarcasm evident in her voice; you just weren’t sure the older folks caught on to it. She was kind, yes, but she seemed to swallow her pride to get that across; her apologies were the same way, the words “I’m sorry” only falling out of her mouth when she pushed her pride aside—something you lectured her over. You wondered if this was a foreign thing to her—something she hasn’t quite gotten used to yet.

More residents warmed up to Agatha, and so did she. That wasn’t to say that the burning rage against her simmered down, however, as some remained indignant.

Over time, you found yourself visiting her place of residence, finding it in yourself to be more casual and less wary. Agatha welcomed you in—a bit awkwardly at first—but with time, it was nothing less than normal; both of you synchronized to this soon-to-be routine.

Just like today.

You barged into Agatha’s house, arms filled with snacks. You caught sight of Señor Scratchy’s white tufts in the living room carpet, a sign that Agatha hadn’t done house chores yet, which you found unusual because the ticking clock on the adjacent wall read 11:38 A.M.; her house chores were usually done by 11:00. You closed the front door with your left foot.

Thud!

That clearly wasn’t the noise of the front door closing.

“Agatha?” You called.

No answer came.

You walked over to the kitchen counter and dumped the snacks you had brought, listening to the loud clattering from a different room—one you pinpointed to be the bathroom. You gently pushed open the half-open door. “Agatha?”

You were greeted with Agatha holding her arm under the running faucet, her eyes lifeless, not seeming to care much at all. Your eyes trailed over to the messy display of knocked-over plant pots on the floor. Your eyebrows furrowed, not quite understanding what was going on. She didn’t seem to notice your presence.

But then you see it—a fresh gash of a wound across her forearm.

“Agatha?!” Your eyes widened, grabbing her shoulder to inspect the wound.

It was only then that she seemed to come back—life coming back to her eyes. Her breath hitched in surprise.

“Let’s take care of this,” you said softly. You turned off the faucet and opened the second drawer under the sink. You’ve practically memorized the layout of her house—her items included—to know where her Band-Aids were kept. You grabbed one and gently placed it upon the wound, earning a strong hiss from Agatha. You noticed her strange demeanor—something cold and distant emanating from within her.

“Agatha?”

“What,” she said rather strongly, retracting her arm away from you.

“What’s wrong?”

She didn’t say anything, eyeing the cracked plant pots on the ground.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” And that set her off.

“You think I need your help?” A bitter taste left her throat.

You took a step back, a little surprised at the sudden aggression. While her face may be telling you she was angry, her eyes begged to differ—hurt having been the underlying emotion she was feeling. She looked away, looking at the broken pieces of pottery again. Her figure became smaller as she hugged herself with her arms, fighting a sense of vulnerability.

You tread carefully, choosing not to answer the question. “What’s with the pots?”

“Mrs. Hart,” she said dryly.

“Sharon,” you corrected sharply.

Her face hardened even more. “You care too much.”

“You care too little,” came your quick rebuttal. And just then, a flicker of susceptibility fell in her face.

That silence you dreaded oh-so-much filled the room.

Until she spoke.

“I’ve done many things,” she whispered. “Many, many, many things. And I’m not even sure what to do with myself because of it.” You weren’t sure how this conversation was going to turn out, but you knew one thing: Agatha’s ironclad walls were crumbling down.

She held herself tighter. “I’ve done horrible things.” She seemed to fight an incoming sob, and you felt your chest tighten. You opened your mouth to speak, but she cut in, her eyes glassy.

“Haven’t you heard?” She looked at you, her face softening. “People are saying you’re just as morbid as I am—that two birds of a feather flock together.” Her voice wavered, the last two words breaking.

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

“You should leave.” Her tone didn’t come across as authoritative—you could tell she meant nothing by it.

“No,” you softly spoke.

Her eyebrows furrowed, a desperate pleading look on her face as she hugged herself tighter. “What are you—”

“No.” You inched closer—reclaiming that step you fell back from. “Whatever it is they’re saying, we’ll be fine.” She heavily exhaled, but you gave her no time to speak.

“Who you were in the past is not the same Agatha that Westview is seeing,” you told her—a serious look in your eyes.

“You don’t know anything!” Came her exasperated reply.

“I don’t have to,” you insisted. “You’ve disproven my doubts about you time and time again. Whoever you were in the past… Well, you’ve clearly changed. I can see it.” You looked at her with gentle eyes, meaning every word you said.

Her eyes welled up. A tear slid past her cheek. And your heart throbbed. You inched closer—giving her time to back away if she didn’t want your touch. She didn’t move. And you hugged her. She pressed herself closer to you, hesitatingly at first, until she found it in herself to let go. Let go of the walls she put up. Let go of her pride. Let go of her fear.

You drew comforting circles on her back shoulder, softly humming a tune. You felt the collar of your shirt becoming colder—tears being caught by the cloth. You let a moment of silence pass, and you didn’t hate it as much this time. Your eyes landed again on the broken plant pots.

“Agatha?”

She gave a small “hm,” undeniably trying to mask her tears.

“What’s with the plant pots?”

A beat.

“Azaleas,” came her soft reply—too quiet to be heard if her mouth wasn’t sitting right next to your ear. She pulled you closer like she was afraid of letting you go. Though she only said one word, you understood what she meant; Sharon had probably invited her over to plant azaleas—her current hyperfixation. It was only then that you noticed the bag of fertilizer sitting in the corner, right beside the bathtub. Had she taken Sharon’s planting invitation that seriously? Your eyes trailed over to the sink, catching sight of another pot—one you couldn’t quite see earlier; a broken shard caught your eye. The unmistakable tinge of red on its jagged edges gave you a clearer picture.

“Be careful,” you muttered under your breath.

She gave another soft “hm.”

“With the pots, I mean. I don’t want you hurting yourself again,” you clarified.

A flat laugh fell from her lips. “You care too much.”

“Of course I do; I’m your friend.” And the hands that clung to your sides faltered. Her breathing changed, and you felt her relax against you—even more so.

“The entirety of Westview hates me,” she joked—ignoring the fact you called yourself her friend.

It was the first time. The first of many.

You laughed. “If you want the residents of Westview to love you, you have to love them first. Don’t you, Agatha?”

She didn’t reply, losing herself to your comforting touch.

“And Agatha?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s work on your apologies.”

Her posture straightened up—feeling slightly offended.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you reprimanded. You couldn’t see her face as she had her head over your shoulder, but you could easily tell she was rolling her eyes. You rolled yours too.

“Your apologies sound like threats,” you reminded.

“It’s not my fault you normals are so touchy-feely!” She argued.

“Agatha.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, and she followed along with you.

When the clock struck 12:00, somewhere in the back of your head, twelve notes played at the same time, forming a discordant, yet melodious tune, the sound being drowned out by the witch’s joyous laughter. It was a loud sound—one you couldn’t quite hear yet. But, even then, you held her tighter. Tighter than before. Underneath the obnoxiously bright bathroom light, in the comfort of Agatha’s own home, and in her warmth, your heart started to beat to a different type of music.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, breaking you away from your reminiscing thoughts. You turned around to be met by Agatha, which you found a little funny, because you had just visited her in your memories.

“You alright, hon?” Her hand left your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you replied. Your eyes trailed over to the decorations you had both put up; the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, and even the corridor had been well-decorated. You smirked—a swell of pride in your chest. You glanced at the clock that hung on the wall opposite you, and it read 4:46 PM. Guests should start arriving soon enough

“Thank you, hon,” she quietly whispered.

“Hmm?”

“For helping,” her eyes searched for yours. “For helping me with… Westview. And for helping me decorate,” the last part coming off sheepish.

“Anytime, Aggie,” You smiled, nose wrinkling. “I’m just glad they’re your friends now. And!” You clapped your hands. “This is the first-ever party you’re throwing! It’s been, like, what? Two years?”

She awkwardly smiled, eyes twinkling, like she knew you had more to say.

“Two years! Wow… that’s incredible, Agatha!” You giggled.

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Those apology and friendship lessons really helped me a great deal,” she reminded—a hint of amusement in her voice. You rolled your eyes playfully.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. You both exchanged quick looks, then back to the corridor, before walking over to the front door to greet the first guest.

“Hi, Sharon!” Agatha warmly greeted her, her smile reaching her eyes

“Oh, hello, Agatha! And oh!” Sharon gestured to the food container she was holding. “I brought fruit salad!” She enthusiastically announced.

“Oh, that sounds like a delight!” Agatha excitedly replied—not an inch of sarcasm in her tone.

This is the Agatha Westview is coming to love

You welcomed Sharon in too; she made her way to the living room, reaching for the candy bowl—a hint of familiarity to Agatha’s abode. Agatha leaves the front door open, resting her head on it with her arms crossed.

“Are you going to greet every single guest that shows up?” You playfully poked.

She glanced your way, a smirk falling on her lips. “They’re my friends. I definitely should.” Just then, a car pulled up, and you swear you’ve seen that car somewhere. You could make out two figures, and your eyes widened—it was the same two women that dropped you off earlier. The same ones that were gossiping.

Agatha seems to recognize them too, a bite settling in her lower jaw. You tensed up, cancelling out the sounds of soft gravel crunching as they made their way to the front door—albeit a little hesitatingly. You touched Agatha’s arm.

“Hey,” you softly started, “I invited them over, and I don’t think they’re here to cause trouble.”

Her eyes softened when she turned to look at you. “They’re trouble.”

“Aggie,” your voice gentle. “Trust me. Give them a chance too, please?”

She sighed, and time stopped for you in a split second when the walking became louder as they reached the front door. A heavy air settled between you four. You nervously smiled at the two of them, and so did they. Agatha seemed to take her time in greeting. The taller of the two women offered her right hand. “Juliana.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. The shorter of the two spoke too. “Alya.”

Agatha paused, then shook Juliana’s hand. “Agatha.” Her eyes trailed over to Alya, who also offered her hand. You sighed a sigh of relief, relieved to know that there wasn’t much tension. The two women offered apologies; their cheeks colored in pink. And, after some time, Agatha thanked them both for apologizing. She motioned them to come in—stepping off the threshold. They both stepped inside, admiring Agatha’s well-kept house.

An itch clawed at your throat, and you coughed. Agatha’s eyebrows crinkled, worry settling on her face. Alya looked at you and made a comment. “Still coughing, dear?

Juliana looks at you with that same worry from before, and you just smile, coughing again. Agatha steps closer to you, suddenly putting her left palm on your forehead. Her hand felt cold against your forehead, but at the same time you felt a little warm. Her eyebrows furrowed, a look of disapproval on her face.

“Hon, you’re sick,” she said with a little weight. You shuddered a little from the tone she used. You could tell she was upset you didn’t say anything sooner, but in your defense, you thought you were feeling better. That, and the fact you didn’t even realize your temperature was warming up.

“You should rest, hm?” It sounded like a question, but it really wasn’t.

“But—” you started, only to be met with a stern look on her face.

“Fine, fine.” You said begrudgingly.

“Go take a nap in my bedroom,” she said softly, eyeing the driveway. More people had arrived.

You smiled. “Okay.”

You could vaguely hear more chatter downstairs. Eyeing the foot of the staircase, you saw more people occupying the living room—the fellow Westview residents who have come to love Agatha. You opened the door to her bedroom, and an unmistakable scent invades your nose—her scent. It was as if a blanket of her very being covered you; even in her absence, you could feel her presence. You stepped inside, trying to make yourself comfortable, letting out a few coughs here and there.

Pulling at the heavy duvet, you climbed comfortably into her bed. You had been in her bedroom before, but she was always there when you visited. Undeniably, your eyes always searched for her, so you never took a closer look at her room. Your eyes wandered to the undisplayed possessions of Agatha: her trinkets, her photos, her notebooks, and the like. Your eyes landed on her vanity mirror—a bunch of multicolored sticky notes hanging on the right side caught your eye. They were the notes you left her during hard times; it was unmistakable.

Your heart melted, and your head got heavier. You sunk into the pillows below, its touch on your cheek grounding you. You took one last look at the sticky notes, only being able to make out black scribbles because of the distance. You smiled, and before you knew it, sleep took over you.

You awakened to the bed adjusting to an added weight behind you. It was a soft sinking, not at all sudden—an effort not to wake you. Before you could open your eyes, a hand gently touched your forehead; you shuddered a little from the sudden cool but immediately relaxed when you realized who it was: Agatha.

You made no effort to move or to make a sound as you were a little groggy. Her hand made its way to your scalp and ran her fingers through your hair soothingly. She repeated the same motion over and over and over again. You didn’t mind—her touch was something you could never reject.

You only realized then that the party was over. No sound came from downstairs—a sign that night had fallen. It was only silence. Not the kind of silence you despised; no, it was the kind of comforting silence that you loved. And you only loved it because it was the type of silence reserved between you and Agatha.

Your breathing slowed a little—just coming to. Your eyes stayed closed, losing yourself to Agatha’s touch. Suddenly, she stopped. You felt her pull away.

Silence.

You wouldn’t have minded it so much if you didn’t notice Agatha’s breathing pattern changing. Sharp, shallow, sharp, sharp, shallow—a huge telltale that she was deep in thought. You stayed still, not wanting to interrupt her inner thoughts.

More silence.

She shifted her sitting position behind you—still being quite careful over not waking you up. You had to fight a smile—how considerate of her. The rustling of the bedsheets filled the air. Then, silence again.

She took a sharp breath, an indication she was going to say something. But just like that, she heavily sighed. You were a bit dumbfounded, curious what she was thinking so hard about. She breathed in again. This time, a word left her lips, “I…,” before trailing off.

Even more silence.

It seemed as if she was testing words at the tip of her tongue—seeing just how much weight it carried. And before you could even comprehend it, you heard it. A soft and quiet whisper fell from her lips—one filled with too much affection.

“I love you.”

And your heart beat wildly.

You could barely hear anything else except your heavy breathing. And you heard those same twelve notes playing. The tune that played underneath the obnoxiously bright bathroom light. The tune that played in Agatha’s own house. The tune that played in her warmth. But it wasn’t discordant—no. This time, every note took its time to play, scaling higher and higher until it reached the twelfth. And when it did, it was nothing short of groundbreaking.

You sat up and turned towards her, eyes wide open, surprise written all over your face. Agatha’s eyes widened in response too, and you both stared at each other.

Deafening silence.

“What…?” You clumsily whispered.

Agatha stuttered, grasping at words; her calm, cool, and collected demeanor slipping off. She avoided eye contact and frantically searched for words.

You smiled. “I love you too.”

And she paused—as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears. Her eyes searched for yours, and you met her with nothing but absolute pure love. Agatha’s breath heaved. She was at a loss for words.

You took her hands in yours, softly tracing every inch of her knuckles, before interlacing your fingers with hers. Your eyes met hers, and you found yourself unfolding that letter of fondness she wrote in just her eyes alone. She looked at you—hesitatingly—and you replied in earnest: a love letter that can only be explained through your eyes alone.

“Hon…” But even she herself didn’t know what she was calling for.

You traced the lines of her fingers, giving her time to think. Your heartbeat was banging in your ears, being incredibly nervous. Your love for her overflowed your very being; you found it hard to process that she loved you too

She bit her lower lip, a mixture of too many emotions swirling beneath her chest. She exhaled, and her hand gripped yours tighter. “I love you more.”

Your mind spun, and the room followed with you. Your hands started shaking, and she held yours tighter. She smiled a little, as if she herself can’t quite believe the words she said. And when it finally sank in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I love you most.”

And, like music to your ears, she laughed too. “I doubt it, hon. My love transcends that of normals.”

You feigned being offended. “Are you calling me normal?!”

She giggled, spun you around, and pulled you closer toward her. Your back hit her front as the words she spoke—no—the word she whispered fell in your ears. “You’re extraordinary.”

Your body heated up, feeling a little embarrassed; a faint hint of pink settled on your complexion. Her gaze never left your face as if she wanted to embed your very presence in her mind. You looked at her again, regaining courage.

“I really do love you most.”

She smirked. “We have all the time in the world to prove that wrong, hon.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. This time, you pulled her closer towards you. You kissed her on the cheek.

She was inevitably flustered. And you smugly smiled. Agatha paused, trying to think of a rebuttal, but words failed her. And you reveled in it. Perhaps the residents of Westview weren’t entirely wrong. You surely have been bewitched by the witch—just not the kind they had thought.

p.s. : push me a lil and u guys just might get lilia-confesses-to-u-when-she-thinks-u-are-asleep too. [cackle] [cackle]

also, i hope u guys have been doing well ! pls take care of yallselves. :] !!

Can I request Agatha Harkness x reader? Some fluff? Agatha confesses to reader late at night when she thinks reader is sleeping

hehe, hiiiii, anonnn! absolutely! tysm for the cute req (and for the being the first req)! i’ll post it as soon as i am finished with it. >.<

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #likae’s archive #likae #agatha all along fanfic #agatha harkness x reader

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windvexer · 3 years ago

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hi! I wanted to know if it's dangerous for begginers, like, people who have never actually practiced and are just doing reading for now, to try and start with spirit work? I read that you usually start with your ancestors and such, but I wanted to know if there's something I need to know or learn about before that

additional ask:

hi sorry again, I'm the anon who just asked about spirit work and I wanted to specify a little more cause I didn't think about it when I wrote the ask. I don't know if I even count as begginer cause I haven't begun practicing, and I'm just in the reading phase. I've read mostly about green witchcraft and other usually begginer friendly stuff more or less, but I didn't start taking this seriously until now, and I really want to learn more and I thought spirit work sounds interesting, (even if I'm in a skeptic phase every now and then) cause I feel like I've always been disconnected from everything and maybe contacting with my ancestors/other spirits would help me with that. I don't really know if that is the better place to start so I'm asking where do u think I should start reading about it and if u could recommend some simple stuff to do when ur just starting. Again sorry if this is messy and my point is not clear! And thank u very much if u answer. Hope you're having a good day! I really like ur blog

Hello Anon :) Thank you for the additional information.

The answers depend on who you ask. You're asking me, so I'll tell you what I think. But my views are by no means universal.

"Spirit work" involves literally any practice in which you intend for spirits to be involved. This ranges from talking to trees and ancestors, to summoning aberrations and devils.

The latter category is not particularly beginner friendly. However, to say that ALL spirit work is dangerous is just silly.

Talking to trees is spirit work. It hardly seems reasonable that we should wrap such activities in red caution tape.

The degree to which spirit work is dangerous, and the degree to which you need to prepare, depends on the kind of spirit work you'd like to do.

A police interrogator needs a lot of special skills, a lot of protective equipment, and backup before talking to a seasoned criminal in an interrogation room. This indeed is not a 'beginner level' activity that anyone off the street could safely do.

However, the average human off the street probably can handle a home visit from a relative. You know how to tidy up the living room and serve them food. You know how to ask them to leave, how to clean up after them, and how to lock the door at night. This is the type of spirit-work that is beginner friendly.

It is generally safer to begin spirit work with spirits who like you and have your best interests at heart (like ancestors), or whom at the very least are pretty benevolent (like a lot of domesticated trees). But if you invite your cousins over for a dinner party, don't do the dishes for two weeks, and your kitchen gets roaches - does that mean dinner parties are dangerous?

This is where magical skills come into play. Magic surrounding spirit work can be conceived of as magic which allows you to do normal things - like serving dinner, tidying up, and locking doors - within the spirit world.

Therefore, the simplest things you can do when beginning spirit work are just understanding how to extend everyday actions into the spiritual realm.

You do not need a rigorous practice schedule to get good at these things. I don't practice cleaning - I clean when things get dirty, and over time I get better at it.

The one exception to this rule is a general amulet of protection. I recommend you make one before attempting spirit work, and carry on feeding it and using it (in fact, the spirit of the amulet could be one of the first spirits you get to know).

What follows are various magical tools to put in your toolbox. I recommend finding methods beforehand which are practical enough for everyday use, and keeping them on hand until you need them or want to use them.

Cleaning up kit:

To be employed before very important guests visit, or as needed.

A method of self-cleansing

A method of room-cleansing

Hosting kit:

To be employed to show any guest a pleasant time.

A method of devoting gifts and general offerings

A method of object-cleansing (in case desired gifts need a wash-up before they're presentable)

A method of object blessing (to add a spiritual sparkle to important gifts)

A method of spirit communication (working through divination tools such as tarot works well. here is my own guide for direct communication).

Landlord kit:

To be employed if a spirit should move in with you, or to make special accommodations for house-wights.

A method of shrine building and dedication

A list of house rules and regulations

Head of Household kit:

To be employed if a guest becomes troublesome.

A method of spirit banishing

A method of home warding

oh yeah, I have a ko-fi now

#answered #spirits

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momoshin · 3 years ago

Note

hii! could you write mob!ryu getting super overprotective of reader when her co-workers or anyone she doesn’t like are around. thank youuu :)

“ma’am” interrupted is the eye contact your wife and you held for the last three minutes, it’s been slightly longer than that since you came back from a trip with your mother, but since you ran into her office, the two of you had shared a rather heated yet heartfelt conversation, that had just been merely interrupted by one of her employees.

“yes?“ she doesn’t even bother moving her body, only her eyes towards the man who called of her. “what do you need?”

“just for you to read and sign these” he quietly murmurs, and ryujin observes his eyes briefly go to the hand on your waist, her hand. so, she softly taps your side, and murmurs

“careful love, ill be done quick” and for some reason, as expected, you catch on to move away from the desk, and opt for standing behind her, were she stretches an arm over you, which you unintentionally take. it’s an unconventional position, but she manages to briefly read over it and sign even with you holding on to her, and extends the stack of papers to her employee, only to yank it back when he latches on to them. “if i catch you staring at her again i will personally poke your eye out” looking up to him, she watches his face change. but he only nods. “i don’t want to see you again today. go home.”

“baby..” you begin “that wasn’t very nice” you laugh

“he was staring” she excuses “weirdly, might i add” ryujin walks in front of you, and places both her arms on your waist this time, looking at you lovingly.

“okay” you nod “i trust you” your arms make their way to her neck, and you peck her lips once, twice, and when you want to deepen the third kiss, after so long of missing each other, they knock on the door again, causing you to sigh.

“you’ve got to be kidding me” she scoffs. “what?” and now yells to the door

“ma’am” the man doesn’t stand closer, but instead, after some sort of salutation he steps aside, revealing a brunette head with a pink stripe.

“oh” ryujin moans, more in exasperation than anything “fuck no”

“i just want to talk” she murmurs. “alone?”

“no” she is set on her answer “i can give you five minutes, tops. and y/n remains in my office”

yeji has an unreadable expression at this point, and slowly, unsure, walks towards the two of you. she places her bag gently on the desk, and sits. ryujin knows she’s looking, staring rather, and it makes her skin crawl like usual.

“i have something for you” she whispers, pulling a stack of papers out of her bag and gently offering it to ryujin, who stares at it suspiciously and looks back at you. “it’s a list of all the operatives the choi’s plan to make, most of them directed to your spots”

“why are you giving me this?” your wife furrows her brows. slowly grabbing it.

“i dunno” yeji shrugs “thought you’d wanna know. plus, maybe it’ll make u hate me a little less”

“trust me, i’ll stop hating you the day you stop desiring my wife.” ryujin laughs. “they’ll escort you out” her hand points to the men waiting at the doors, and the expression of yeji is somewhat shocked, a part of her wanting to laugh incredulously as she shakes her head and gets up to leave.

#my stuff #itzy imagine #itzy imagines #ryujin x reader #mob!ryujin #ryujin imagine #yeji imagine #yeji imagines #yeji x reader #itzy x reader #itzy x you #ryujin x you

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vquacki · 4 years ago

Text

Lip Plumper Prank

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, MINORS DNI

Lip plumper - Lip plumper is a cosmetic product used to make lips appear fuller. These products work by irritating the skin of the lips with ingredients such as Capsaicin. This makes the lips swell slightly, temporarily creating the appearance of fuller lips.

Note : honestly just crack, i might delete if i start to get insecure about it. i hope you all enjoy this story though! :)

R I N D O U

Out of every prank you seemed to come across on youtube, you choose this one. ‘Kissing my boyfriend with lip plumper on’. You giggled, imagining the many ways your boyfriend would react to the unfamiliar burning sensation upon his lips.

He was currently on the way home from a bonten meeting, calling you minutes prior to your little scheme.

Closing the youtube app, you slid your phone onto your bed. Hopping onto the vanity chair, you opened your drawer. Roaming your hands throughout the makeup filled storage area. You smiled, finally finding the glass tube.

With a pop the glass container full of shiny liquid opened, the wand filled with a decent amount of product on it. You swiped your lips with the fluid, until your bottom and top lipped glimmered against the bright light of your vanity mirror.

“Hey Y/N, where are you? I have food!” Rindou yelled. You jumped from the sudden voice, not even noticing him open the front door.

“Hold on! I'll be out soon!” You yelled back, quickly throwing the tube back into your drawer, slamming the organizer shut.

You skipped through the hallways, the adrenaline in your veins furthering your excitement.

“Hi Rin!” you leaped onto him, wrapping both of your arms around his neck.

“You're in a good mood” Rindou smiled down at you, completely ignoring the fact you're hanging off his neck like a monkey.

“There's take out on the table, your favorite” He pointed at the table. His other arm slithered onto your waist, keeping you up.

Your eyes follow his finger, scanning the table before you give him a light nod.

Your mischievous smirk hid behind an innocent like smile, it's now or never.

You pucker your lips, begging him for a quick sweet peck.

“Y/N you have gloss on,.” Rindou opposed as he leaned his head away, trying to get as far as your lips as possible.

“Rindou, I waited for you all day and you wont give me a simple kiss?” your hands loosen from his neck.

The mention of his full name snapped him out of his protesting state. You could make out the red tips of his ears before he leaned down, giving you a swift kiss.

“Yeah. that's what i thought” you smirked in triumph, now all you had to do was wait for the gloss effect to kick in.

It happened quite quick, the back of his hand rubbed against his lips as his brows knitted together.

“Why the fuck are my lips burning”

“Hmm? I don't know” you shrugged nonchalantly. Plopping down onto the chair, facing away from him, trying not to let him see your wicked face.

“You little-” before you could even pick at the cooled down food, you got picked up and swung over his shoulder.

“Eh! Rindou put me down! It's just a prank!” you laughed, almost face planting onto the couch where he had dropped you.

“You better clean it off then” Rindou glared down at your lying figure.

“Fine, you crybaby” You giggled as you sat up, smoothing down your messy hair.

“You tryna pick a fight?”

R A N

“Y/N~” Ran called out, as you darted towards him.

“I missed you,” you pouted into his shirt once you were in contact with the male.

“I missed you too, doll” he let his large hands run through the hair on your scalp, his fond smile never leaving his lips.

“can I have a kiss” you jumped right into it, not wasting any time whatsoever. Your lips extended outwords, your eyes resembling a saddened puppys.

“Oh~? i've missed your eagerness” he grinned, not hesitating to grab the back of your head, pushing you until your lips met his own.

The gloss not affecting the way he kissed you one bit, he didn't mind being a little messy with the paste on your lips.

Moments later you slowly tipped back, allowing your blocked air ways to finally breathe. Your eyes half lidded at your heated make out session in the mall parking lot, where the two of you met up for your afternoon date.

“Hey pretty girl, I have a question” Ran’s delighted expression not leaving his face for one second, the gloss stained across his chapped lips.

“Hmm” you hummed, your chest rising and falling. Still trying to catch your breath.

“What's with this lip product? And why is my lips starting to hurt” his lips twitching as he stared down at you.

You covered your lips with your hand, trying to suppress your giggles.

“I have no idea” you looked away, avoiding his gaze. Acting mildly suspicious towards the man.

His threatening smile widened as he approached you. Taking unhurried steps closer to your smaller frame.

“You better get it off before I tickle you right here, right now” He wiggled his fingers at you, his cheeks starting to redden from the throbbing feeling on his lips. His nose building up sweat as the burning increased by the minute.

“What do you mean? I think your just having allergies”

“I don't have allergies..”

S A N Z U

You ignored the feeling of your lips trembling as you tried to find your pink headed boyfriend located somewhere in your shared home. It was early in the morning, the male had just woken up. Getting tidied up for work that he had to attend to.

You had also gotten ready, not planning to go anywhere though. You just didn't want to look out of place, with only lip gloss on with your ruffled up pajamas.

So you went all out. Dressing to impress, heels and all with the gloss smeared on your lips.

“Sanzu!” you swung the bathroom open, revealing your boyfriend, a comb in his hand.

“Yes princess? Do you need something?” Sanzu continued brushing through his hair, styling his well trimmed mullet.

“Do I look okay?” You spun around, showing your full look to the male.

He observed your giddy behavior, not acknowledging the fact you wouldn’t even be awake right now if you hadn’t had something up your sleeve. He didn’t think too much of it, he looked you up and down, taking in the wonderful view.

“Yeah you look hot,” he replied, praising you, a smug look on his tired face.

“Where you going?” he questioned right after his compliment. You rarely dressed up like this, especially early in the morning where no clubs or events were even open.

“Just gonna hang out with the girls” You answered, clicking your shoes together as you leaned against the bathroom counter.

“Oh okay” he nodded, noting that information just in case he needed it later in the day. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a dueled color pill.

Popping the white and yellow drug into his mouth, swallowing it dry.

“Zu, gimme a kiss before I leave” you demanded, turning to him. Your arms crossed over your chest.

He chuckled, amused at your behavior. He bent down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Promptly letting the access gloss on your lips smudge against his own.

It took a second for the man to realize the weird sensation on his mouth.

“The fuck. My lips are tingling” he placed his index finger against his bottom lip, rubbing the gloss.

You bit your lip, trying your hardest to hold in your fits of laughter.

“Y/N, what did you do” his voice threatening, you couldn't hold it any longer. Your laughter echoed throughout the bathroom as you held your stomach.

“I'm sorry sanzu! I couldn't help it” You said between laughs, holding your breathless stomach.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

END NOTE : yeahhh, i'm not too sure how i feel about this. Felt icky writing it, so I might delete. >.< as always though reblogs are always appreciated! I hope you enjoyed!

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salazarslytherin · 4 years ago

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full (r.l x y/n)

requested: yes! [hi i got a request! can u write a smut where remus has a breeding kink and he’s scared that it’ll freak the reader out but she’s actually rlly into it n he just cums a lot into her (this is probably the spiciest thing i’ve ever typed in my life 💀💀)] send in your own request here!

🃛 masterlist!

cw/tw: tiny bit of angst at the beginning, insecurities?, breeding!kink, slight degradation, fem!reader, handjob, fingering etc. just SMUT.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i hope you like it y'all! if you do, pls do reblog/follow!! x

☯︎ join tag list here tag list: @marvelslut16, @siriusbarnesslut, @marimorena06, @weasleysbitch2, @reg-arcturus-black

Remus had been avoiding you for the past three days. Three days since you’d spoken to your boyfriend, two and half since you’d even seen him. It sucked.

The reasoning behind it was somehow worse - you’d tried to tell him you wanted to sleep with him, and he had literally run away.

So you were set on finding the boy and talking it out , and if it came to it, breaking up with him.

You didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t want you, especially to the extent of intentional avoidance.

You were in a relationship, not an extended game of hide and seek.

So you’d concocted a plan - Tuesdays were when the other boys had quidditch practice, and Remus would be in his dorm on his own for at least three hours, studying, doing homework, or whatever it was that he would do on his own.

Now, today was Tuesday, which meant that tomorrow morning you’d either be very satisfied, or very single.

You weren't even quite certain what you'd expected to come out of the confrontation – a screaming match where you found out all the reasons why he didn't want you? A startling confession where you found out that your boyfriend was a virgin?

Nevertheless, you stalked towards the Marauders' dorm room, intent on confronting him, only to falter as you reached the heavy doors, hearing sounds coming from the other side.

Registering what the noises were, you ground your teeth loudly, clenching your jaw as you gripped the doorknob.

"Oh fuck off."

⚔︎

You slammed the door open, Remus rolling off his bed in shock at the sound.

"Are you joking?!"

Remus looked at you in confusion and fear, kneeling beside the bed with his head peeking over the side, a sheepish blush coating his cheeks.

"Um, Y/N, do you mind? I was kind of in the middle of something..."

You let out a laugh of exasperation, throwing your schoolbag on the ground in frustration.

"Yeah, I know. I could hear you outside. Am I just so unattractive to you, that I basically tell you to fuck me and you had to run away from me? You'd rather fuck your own hand than me?!"

Bending over to pick up your bag, you could practically your heart breaking as Remus scrambled to put on his pants.

Your fears had been confirmed – he didn't find you as attractive as you found him, and it hurt. You just wanted to run far, far away from him, to hide yourself away and be able to release the tears that were threatening to escape.

But as you turned to run from the room, that familiar grasp landed on your wrist, stopping you from leaving the dreaded place.

"Y/N, wait–"

"No, I get it, okay? I don't need to hear you say it out loud."

Your voice cracked as you tried to wrench your hand out of the werewolf's grip, unable to hide your sadness and hurt as you were turned to face the boy.

"Y/N! Please, let me explain myself, please. If you want to leave afterwards, you can. I just, please?"

You didn't really want to hear his explanations, but some masochistic, yet hopeful, part of you wanted to know just why he didn't want you.

Maybe you could change for him?

You relaxed in his arms, still not quite looking into Remus' arms as you no longer made any attempts to run away.

"You're right, I did run away from you when you said you were ready to sleep with me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to hear the rest of his words.

"But that's just because I was afraid you wouldn't want to be with me anymore if I told you what I wanted."

Your eyes opened slowly as you lifted your head to look at the boy, your brows furrowed in confusion as you peered at him.

"What d'you mean?"

It was Remus' turn to become flustered now, his hands moving from your side to cover his face in embarrassment.

"I–okay. You know how you thought I ran away from you because I didn't find you attractive?"

You nodded, still half-convinced that was the truth, the reason why he'd avoided you for so long.

"It, it was the opposite."

You raised a brow in disbelief, unable to stop a skeptical laugh from escaping your mouth, Remus' hands falling away from his face so he could look into your eyes.

"It's true! I, fuck this is embarrassing, and you're probably going to run away from me if I tell you the truth."

You crossed your arms with a huff.

"Well right now I'm not quite certain there is a 'truth' that you speak of! I'm quite certain you're just making it all up, trying to hide the fact that you think I'm unattractive."

Remus grit his teeth, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly as if to shake you awake.

"No! That's absurd. I, I find you so bloody attractive, and, fuck it I'm just going to say it and if you break up with me I won't even blame you. I've been having dreams of you and I, but in those dreams," Remus' hands relaxed from your shoulders, falling to his side in embarrassment, "I would, um, cum inside of you, and uh, fill you with my pups."

Your jaw fell open at the boy's admission, his right hand rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably before continuing to speak.

"And I've never even thought of that before! I think you're just so bloody hot that you've awoken some sort of primal instinct inside me, I just want to ruin you, and–and breed you. Fuck this sounds so creepy doesn't it."

You were incapable of shutting your jaw at this point. This was far from what you thought you'd hear from your boyfriend's mouth today.

"Y/N... I've scared you away, haven't I? I mean, of course you'd be freaked out..."

The boy continued to mumble to himself, terrified that he'd ruined your relationship, certain that you'd break up with him.

Contrary to what he thought though, you found his words incredibly hot.

And you'd be damned if you didn't make that a reality.

⚔︎

In the middle of Remus' ramblings, he was barely able to register that you'd moved towards him, placing your hands onto his cheeks until your soft voice rang in his ears.

"Remus?"

The brunette's eyes snapped to meet yours, gaze darting between each of your eyes as he awaited your words.

"Fucking ruin me, please."

Before the last word even left your mouth fully, Remus was already on top of you, his lips capturing yours hungrily, like you were his first meal in weeks and he was dying to have you.

As Remus devoured you, he backed the two of you onto his bed, his legs lodged between yours as you gripped onto his neck, eager to have him.

You arched your back as you were overcome with need, trying desperately to grind your clothed cunt onto his hard-on, but the boy only tutted at you, moving away from your lips to push your hips down on the bed.

"Such a desperate little slut, hmm?"

You only whined in return, trying to grind into his legs that were between you, Remus smirking down at you.

"Take your clothes off love."

Your hands moved to unbutton your school shirt without a second word, fingers moving in a flurry to throw it off before tossing your bra across the room, Remus moving at very much the same speed as he removed his clothes.

You both quickly found yourselves naked, admiring each other through lust-filled eyes as the boy lowered himself slowly towards you, his lips ghosting over yours as you laid yourself back down.

"So beautiful."

His lips quickly captured yours, both your hands exploring each other's bodies for the first time – tingles of excitement running through your bodies.

Your hands traced his scars as his ran down your curves, him stopping to suck in a breath as you cupped his cock, fully hardened under your fingers.

"Fuck, don't tease me Y/N."

You only licked the boy's lips in return, but was treated with a taste of your own medicine as his hand brushed your lower lips softly, tracing your slit teasingly slowly.

"Remus... Please."

Your cupped hand became a grip – encircling the werewolf's member as you began to pump up and down his shaft slowly, eliciting a low moan from Remus.

He responded by slipping a finger into you, the kiss broken as both your lips were preoccupied with a mixture of swears and moans, asking the other to hasten their pace as you two built up your orgasms.

"Wait, fuck stop. Stop Y/N."

Remus' other hand came to stop your hand as he kept himself up on his knees, pulling away from your close contact to look into your eyes.

"'m too fucking close, wanna cum inside you."

You swore you could feel your eyes darken at the boy's words, and so did his.

"Then fuck me."

⚔︎

Remus gripped your thighs tightly as he kissed down your body, spreading your legs and leaving a kiss on your soaking centre. You let out a shaky moan as he planted his tongue against it, licking a stripe up your lips.

"For next time."

The boy moved back up your body, his head hovering over yours as he looked down at his cock, pumping the already erect shaft before tracing his head along your lips.

"R-Remus, please. Want to feel you inside me."

The boy tutted at you mockingly, before sinking himself inside you slowly, moaning at the feeling of your walls stretching around him.

"Fuck, you're so tight baby."

You moaned around him in a mix of pain and pleasure – his fingers not at all preparing you for his cock, stretching you in a way that none of your exes could ever compete with.

"You're so big Re, please, fuck."

Remus pressed a wet kiss to your forehead, his face contorted in pleasure as he awaited your green light to start moving.

After a moment, you nodded as the feeling of being full sent tingles down your spine, letting out a loud moan as the boy began moving out of you slowly, shifting himself so he could grip your hips more firmly for support.

"F-faster."

You muttered out as you clenched your walls around Remus, your orgasm already building from when he prepared you.

"Yeah, my desperate little slut wants me to go faster?"

His hips hastened the speed as his words made you whine loudly, his head lowering to leave kisses on your neck, marking you for the world to see.

“I’m close Re, fuck.”

“Me too princess.”

The boy buried his face into your neck as he began twitching inside of you, his speed faltering for a second as he let out a moan that could border on animalistic, cumming inside you.

The feeling of being filled more than you knew possible pushed you over the edge as Remus continued thrusting his seed deeper into you, moaning as your walls fluttered around him, cumming at the feeling of your boyfriend inside you.

"You look so fucking gorgeous right now love, such a good little cumslut for me, hmm?"

You could only whine in response as Remus continued fucking into you, his cock hardening yet again at the thought of you full of him.

"Gonna look so pretty filled with m'pups, love. Going to fill you up over and over and over again, watch my cum leak out of you because of how full you are."

You moaned at Remus' filthy words, turning to kiss his neck, softly nibbling on his earlobe as you gripped onto his shoulders.

"Yes Re, fuck. Fill me up, feel so good with you inside me. Making me feel so full. Wanna have your pups, want you to cum inside me. Make me yours Re."

It didn't take long for a second orgasm to start building, and it definitely didn't help that Remus had moved one hand to start rubbing at your clit, making you moan at the overstimulation.

"Feel good, hmm, love?"

You nodded into the boy's neck, your eyes squeezed shut as pleasure coursed throughout your body, unable to process proper words. The only sounds that filled the room were the sinful slaps of skin against skin, and a faint noise that made you blush.

It was the sound of Remus' cock slipping in and out of you, slick with the combination of both of your cum.

"Re, I-, fuck, close, again."

Unable to string together a proper sentence, your walls began fluttering around Remus yet again.

"So am I love. You feel so good, making me lose control. Wait for me, we'll cum together."

Your eyes rolled backwards, waiting for Remus. The task seemed impossible as pleasure pulsed throughout your body, your toes curling and legs shaking at the feelings.

"Re, please, I need to cum so badly. You feel so good."

Your nails dug into Remus' back, the feeling burning into him and making him groan into your neck.

"Yes, fuck Y/N. Cum with me love."

Finally able to release, you let out a moan that bordered on pornographic, seeing stars as your eyes squeezed shut much harder than before. You felt ropes of Remus' cum hit your walls, another animalistic groan reaching your ears as he bit into your neck, making you moan softly in the midst of a post-orgasmic bliss.

Panting, your chests rose and fall in tandem as Remus fell on top of you, his cock limp inside you. After a moment, he spoke up.

"Y'know you squirted?"

Your eyes shot open, staring at the boy who craned his neck to look down at you.

"I-, what?"

The werewolf let out a boyish smile, tongue running over his teeth as he stared down at you.

"It was hot."

#mine #writing #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter oneshot #remus lupin oneshot #marauders smut #marauders era #marauders x reader #hp smut #hp imagine #request

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #eric smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric x reader smut #eric x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

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nightwishesworld · 4 years ago

Note

Do u think Alcina would get jealous if there partner had a favourite plushie to the point she considers it competition, the only thing stoping her getting rid of it is her partner being upset

Umm, we are talking about the same vampire, right??? Of course, she would! You guys have the best friggin ideas I swear! This was such a fun write

p/n = plush name

************************

Alcina Dimitrescu is not a jealous woman.

She is the epitome of beauty and elegance, leaving no room for emotions such as jealousy to squander it.

Yeah...right. That’s what she tells herself at least.

To her credit though, Alcina is pretty good at keeping herself in check. Only lashing out, or asserting her dominance, as you call it, when absolutely necessary. The butcher’s son, for instance, got a taste of her rage when she caught him ogling your body like a piece of prime meat. He almost had his tongue cut out right then and there.

Alcina doesn’t do well with competition, and even though you’ve told her several times that there is no competition, she decides to weed them out herself. Can’t get jealous if there are no competitors, right?

Her jealousy doesn’t last long, she claims her spotlight one way or another. There is, however, one creature Alcina is unable to rid herself of. One that resides in her very castle. The closest any little rat has ever come to stealing her beloved y/n.

Even after long grueling days of wasting her time cleaning up Heisenberg’s messes and getting an ear full from Mother Miranda, all Alcina longs for is to crawl into bed and wrap herself in your arms. Tonight it seems the gods are frowning upon her because they have already stolen her place. She rolls her eyes at what should have been a cute display, had it been her, and instead moves to the vanity to start taking her makeup off.

Wiping away the stresses of the day helped lighten Alcina’s mood a bit. It was always such a relief to take her makeup off, knowing the day has finally ended and she can relax.

Making her way to the bed Alcina trips over the small wastebasket and curses herself for making you stir from your sleep.

“Alci, you ok?”

You sit up in bed, grabbing the sheets to cover yourself, but still keep an arm wrapped around your smaller companion.

“Yes, I’m fine darling I-” Alcina stopped. “You know what? No. I am the Lady of this castle and I say p/n needs to leave our bed.”

“P/n is always allowed in bed!”

Alcina was too tired to start a proper argument and decides to simply give in. She refuses to hold you while that stupid plushy is sandwiched between you, effectively cock-blocking her. Its eyes mock her as it watches her toss and turn tirelessly. Alcina was not accustomed to sleeping “by herself.” The vampire felt uncomfortably bare without your body directly in contact with hers, but not bare enough to reconsider cuddling you and the plushy. Alcina is far too stubborn for that and simply chucking it to its rightful place on the floor would only upset y/n. No matter how much she loathes that plushy, she still does not want to upset you.

A smugness flashed across its cold dead eyes as it stared at her, clearly proud of its victory. Alcina only growled in response, baring her teeth like a territorial animal.

“You win this round, fucker.”

The next day was no different from any other. Alcina was kept busy with her daughters causing mayhem around the castle and paperwork needing to be done for some sort of ceremony. Naturally, when she does give herself a break, she chooses to spend it with you. This is how you ended up sitting here next to the fire, plushy at your side and Alcina by her lonesome across from you.

“Ooh, do we still have those shortbread cookies from the other day? Or did Cassandra eat them all?”

“I hid some for you above the stove- top shelf inside the teapot.”

Your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Be right back.”

Alcina nodded and turned her attention back to her book. She felt a pair of eyes on her, but she tried her damnedest to ignore it. A few intense minutes passed before she slammed her book shut. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? Just because you had them first doesn’t mean you’re their favorite.”

The plush stared blankly at her. Its silence only egged her on.

“You better watch yourself, plushy. You just landed yourself a spot on Alcina Dimitrescu’s blacklist, and no one gets off of it alive. You might have them fooled with your dapper little suit and hat but I know who you really are under all that fluff. Punk ass plushy bitch. Y/n is mine, and I do not share.”

More intense silence filled the room as Alcina was about to strike down on the innocent creature until-

“Hey Al, can you come help me? I can’t reach the top shelf.”

She gave the plush a smug grin before taking her leave. “I know someone else who can’t reach either. Coming, my love!”

Alcina sauntered out of the room only to step right back through the doorway to extend the claw on her middle finger at the plushy. Giving it the most dramatic middle finger in all of Romania.

Sometime later

The cookies were gone within minutes of settling back down on the couch. Now you were lounging across the cushions, with p/n pressed tightly against your chest, finishing the final chapter of your book. You moved to get off the couch to return your book to its shelf and pick out another classic. Before setting p/n on the cushions you place a kiss on the top of their head. Alcina pretends not to notice this out of the corner of her eye and continues to glaze over the pages of her own book, waiting for her kiss.

It never came.

You walk past her without offering so much as a smile and Alcina is sent over the edge.

“That’s it, I can’t take it anymore! Y/n it’s me or the plush.”

You look back at her, rather taken back by her sudden outburst. “Um, excuse me?”

“You heard me. It’s either me or the plush. Take your pick.”

You arch a brow and put your hands on your hips. “Well, p/n and I don’t appreciate that tone.”

Alcina rolls her eyes. “P/n isn’t real!”

You gasp and rush over to the couch and cover their ears. “How dare you! That’s a very sophisticated young man/lady you’re talking about.”

“I am sick of always coming in second to that stupid thing. You act like you love it more than you love me! Giving it a kiss and not me, how rude. We both can’t keep living here; one of us has to go.”

That got you to laugh. “This coming from the same woman who, after sending me away to sleep on the couch after an argument, comes down in the middle of the night to sleep on the floor beside the couch because you got lonely.”

Alcina blushed.

“Something tells me you won’t let me go anywhere.”

She stays quiet, only giving a huff as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“If I give you a kiss now will you stop whining?”

Alcina pretends to consider this for a moment before answering. “Will you sit on my lap?”

“Of course, my love,” you smile.

“No p/n.”

You giggle as you make yourself comfortable straddling her things. “No p/n.”

Alcina pulls you flush against her front and kisses you. “Good.” She bites your lower lip, making you gasp. She takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss and relax back into the couch. Out of sheer pettiness, Alcina cracks an eye open to see the plush staring at your display of affection. She smiled into your kiss and gives it the middle finger before focusing all her attention on ravishing you.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #tall vampire lady #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina #no she's not the jealous type #not at all

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 4 years ago

Text

Short Prompt #107

"I... I have to tell you something, boss." - the henchman started, nervously wringing her hands together. "It's- It's important."

"Well, take a seat and tell me then." - Villain replied as he pointed to the chairs standing before his desk.

The woman walked closer slowly, trying to buy herself some time to try and figure out how she was going to explain this. She sat down directly in front of him, taking a moment to study his patient expression.

His calm demeanor helped ease her mind, and so, she decided to be straightforward.

"I-I'm pregnant, sir."

The villain's brows lifted slightly. "Oh. Well, don't worry," - he said with a small smile and dismissive wave of the hand. "This happens pretty often. I may be a villain, but even I understand my minions are people with needs and desires."

"Uh- Yes, but- um-" - Henchman stuttered, confusing her boss.

"Is... there more you wish to tell me?"

The woman's gaze fell, glueing itself to the wooden desk. "Y-Yes, sir. I-"

Her eyes fell closed, muscles tensing as she prepared for the worst.

"The- H-Hero's the father."

...

Silence. Villain doesn't make a sound in reply, and it makes the henchman panic. She starts to ramble, hoping to make this better somehow. "I- We met as- as civilians, and I- I didn't r-realize at the time, I-"

"Henchman." - the criminal cut her off, voice steady, not giving away any of his inner thoughts. "Does... Hero know?"

Tears prickled at the woman's eyes, and she nodded her head. "Y-Yes but he- he thinks I'm just a r-random civilian. H-He doesn't realize I w-work for you."

"...What did he say? How did he react?"

A sob crawled out of her throat, which she failed to hold in. "Hero... He... He revealed his s-secret identity and- and u-used his hero w-work as an excuse... S-Said he... he c-couldn't w-wa-ste h-his time o-on..."

A hand on Henchman's shoulder stopped her, and she opened her eyes in surprise, having not expected the sudden contact. As she looked up, the villain caught her off guard yet again. His other hand was extended to her, holding a tissue.

She took it, muttering a quiet "...Thank you..."

"So... if I'm understanding correctly... Hero ditched you...?"

Not trusting her voice, the woman nodded again.

"...I see. Now I hope this isn't too personal of a question, but... do you have any feelings for him...?"

A bit puzzled by his tone, the henchman looked at her boss. A shiver crawled down her back at the look on his face. Although he appeared calm, the years she spent working for him let her easily identify the rage and bloodlust hiding in his eyes.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "N-No, sir..."

He gave her that trademark 'I'm gonna fuck shit up so hard they'll regret pissing me off' smile. "That's good to know."

"Now then." - Villain started, standing from his chair. He moved around the desk and over to her. "You're officially on maternity leave."

He motioned for her to follow, and Henchman rose to her feet, trailing behind him towards the door. "You return to your courters and get some rest. I'll worry about Hero, yeah?"

"A-Alright. Th-Thank you, sir." - she said, giving him a small smile as he stood in his office doorway.

He smiled back. "You're welcome, Henchman. Now off you go," he shooed her away gently, earning a giggle from her.

Once she left, the villain retreated into his office and closed the door. Now that he was alone, he allowed his face to twist into an angry snarl.

He had already planned on catching Hero. Granted, it was only for the purpose of getting information out of them, but now...?

Oh, now...

Now Villain would cut Hero's fucking dick off and break all of his worthless bones for daring to hurt his dear Henchman.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #villain x villain #villain x henchman #henchman x villain #writing #writeblr #hero #villain #henchman #prompt #short prompt #writing prompt #heroes and villains #hero x villain community #writing community #angst

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janaem · 4 years ago

Text

i like you

"man, he doesn't like me." you sighed resting your head on the palms of you hands. tears were stinging your eyes, for you felt nothing but disappointment and grief. but then again, those were the feelings that often came with having a crush.

___, your friend, cocks an eyebrow, "uhh, what the fuck? yes, he does. he just doesn't show it, give him time."

you furrowed your eyebrows, giving your friend a skeptical look, "and...how long are you gonna say this exactly? It's been years it seems..." you swallowed a lump in your throat, thinking back to all the times you've tried to catch his attention and start up conversations with him. if it was effective, you wouldn't have been stuck in this depressing mental space.

___ shrugged, "yeah, well, it does takes a while for boys to come around," they smirked looking at the teacher's whiteboard, "my ex is a perfect example."

still, a bunch of thoughts started occupying your mind as you watched the teacher project today's lesson onto the board. it's been months since you've started liking ___, and all you've ever wanted was for him to acknowledge you a little more than he did. because to you, it seemed that he has liked your first, way before you started noticing and liking him back.

the sexual tension between you two was rather noticeable. constantly catching each other's gazes in class (sometimes they would turn into staring contests), all those times where he would physically get close to you without saying a word, you would even catch him looking at you while whispering to his friends. all these things, yet neither of you had made a single move.

not like you had a problem, you enjoyed the attention he gave you. that's probably why you started crushing on him in the first place.

you've been pondering on the idea of making the first big move, but you've done that to your last crush and that steered them in the other direction. but every crush is different, maybe ___ might even admit his true feelings instead of hiding. he was sorta the type to be bold—in his own way. he made things direct, but indirect at the same time, and it kind of frustrated you, let alone disappointed you, but you were more disappointed in yourself than you were of him.

you shook off the thoughts that were constantly attacking you, and did your best to keep up with your notes.

"don't look...oh god, please don't look." you pleaded to yourself quietly, silently fighting the urge to see if your crush was looking at you. you stared blankly at you notes, head faced down to avoid any eye contact with anyone

___ was, in fact, eyeing you. watching closely as you tried to keep your composure. you sat in a slouched position, gripping your pencil, you bit your inner cheek fighting the temptation to even spare a quick glance.

"....okay, so i want everyone to come to this table for a demonstration." the teacher announced pointing at the large wooden table in the back.

the boys stood on one side while the girls were on the other side. that was until a few other students joined and mixed things up. the teacher stood at the head of the table, talking and talking away about more of today's lesson. you felt a little more better, your crush was out of your mind for now, so this time you were all ears and watching the teacher.

you weren't thinking of it, but you wish you hadn't. you spared a quick glance at ___, who was right across from you, his hand supporting him as he leaned onto the table. body slightly turned to the teacher, yet his eyes were right on you.

your stomach immediately dropped and you turned your attention back to the teacher, acting as if nothing happened.

once the bell rang, signalling the end of the school day, you immediately gathered your things.

"hey, ___, since your locker is closest to the band room, could you grab my instrument for me? I'll meet you downstairs in front of the school so we can walk together." your friend asked as you btoh exited the classroom. their locker was all the way downstairs and the band room was two stories above, exactly where your locker was.

"yeah, i'll see you later." you said turning the corner and heading up the long flights of stairs.

a part of you really dreaded this assignment because your crush also goes into the band room after school. even though he was quite popular, he was also a band kid.

once you were done packing your things, you hesitantly reached the band room door. peeking in to see no one was there, you felt a wave of relief as you entered the room.

there were stacks of instrument cases on the floor and on the shelves. how on earth were you supposed to find your friend's instrument? you couldn't possibly search the hundreds of nametags.

you decided to whip out your phone from your pocket and texted them 'where in the room do u usually put your instrument?'

meanwhile, you took a look around yourself waiting for your friend to text back. that was until the door swung open abruptly, resulting you to flinch on the stop.

you turned around to see ___ walking in, running a hand through his hair once once he saw you.

you immediately turned your attention back to the instruments. your heart pounds in your chest rapidly, as if it was about to rip out of your chest. you had to lean onto the shelf for support it was beating so fast. the pressure on your eyes was unbearable as you tried not to look at him again.

"hey, uh, are you looking for ___'s, instrument?"

you immediately snapped your neck in his direction, you honestly did not know how to act.

"yeah...you know where it is?" you felt a sudden buzz in your hand. you assumed it was your friend telling you where it was. what's it gonna hurt relying on your crush?

it's just above mine, we play the same instrument." he said tilting his head slightly in the direction of the shelf of instrument cases.

you were practically froze in your spot, not knowing if he wanted you to come closer to him. you just stood there and nodded, and ___ gave you a questioning look.

the silence was loud in the small band room, your heart beat increasing didn't seem to help.

you just couldn't look at him. you weren't sure why he was able to look at you...maybe he really doesn't like you and just sees you as a regular girl at school. well, that's how he's been treating you for the past months...so why were your expectations so high all the time when all you got was nothing?

"you don't have to get it, i'll get it myself." you said reluctantly breaking the silence. you walked over to where your crush was, the space between the two of you was very slim. you didn't think much of it as you grabbed your friend's instrument and then his from the shelf.

turning around, you felt something faintly brush against your bottom, that's when you immediately noticed that ___ was dangerously close to you. once again, the adrenaline in your stomach started up again, you awkwardly turned around, handing ___ his instrument.

__ stammered, realizing how uncomfortable you were, "oh um sorry, i didn't realize-"

"it's okay." you said starting to head towards the door.

"__, wait."

you turned around, completely stunned that he had just said your name for the first time in a long time, "yeah?" you honestly wanted to hear him say it again.

"there's uh...something i need to tell you," he set his instrument down next to his foot and dug his hands into his pocket.

"what is it?" you said inching towards him a bit. you could see ___ starting to get a bit nervous under your stare. he fidgeted in his spot, but he still managed to maintain eye contact.

__ ran his hand through his hair, "i think i like you."

'wait what!? oh my gosh this is not happening!' you said excitedly in your head, you instead furrowed your eyebrows in 'confusion,'

"elaborate." you deadpanned, crossing your arms. but in your mind, you completely understood how he felt, because that's exactly how you felt about him. you tried so hard not to run around and squeal excitedly like a maniac.

"look, i know this may sound creepy, and you may get a bit paranoid after i say this." he swallowed hard, as if there was a lump in his throat.

"no matter what i do, who i'm with, or where i am, i just can't stop thinking about you."

you forgot how to breathe at this very moment , was he just saying this? or was he being genuine? because with the way he has been acting for the past months, you didn't know what to believe anymore.

___ took a few steps towards you, "you're all i think about, you're all i ever wanna talk about."

you raised your eyebrows a bit, you've never heard something like this come out of his mouth before.

"there are so many things i want to do with you, but there are things holding me back, and i fucking hate it."

you just stood there in silence, watching as he anxiously ran his hand through his hair again, "fuck, i—no one has ever made me feel this way before."

everything seemed to move fast from there, yet it felt like it was in slow motion. wasting no time, you carelessly dropped the instrument on the floor, your body started to move on its own once you started walking up to ___, lovingly extending your arms and gave him the tightest embrace you could ever give someone.

the tension has suddenly melted away into obscurity, it was like two lost souls have been brought together after such a long time.

___ slowly snaked his arms around you, "i've been wanting to do this for a long time." he whispered, you shivered feeling his soft breath against your neck.

you didn't want to let go, and neither did he. ___ took the opportunity to kiss the part where your jaw and your ear met. you turned your head to face him. both of your faces were only inches away as ___ removed one of his arms from you to place his hand on your cheek. you closed your eyes, feeling his lips touch yours softly, pulling your body closer with his other arm.

you kissed back, deepening the kiss even more. you honestly didn't think this moment would come. you longed to stay like this forever, oh you wish you did.

you two parted for a quick second, with your eyes half lidded you saw ___ smile a bit, leaning into kiss you again. this time, the kiss was a bit rougher. ___ trailed his hand down your cheek and passed the sensitive spot of your neck. you softly gasped feeling his hand wrap around your neck, his other hand stroked your back slowly ...

suddenly, your phone buzzed, breaking the hypnosis you two were in. the two of you reluctantly parted, and you removed your arms form around ___ and reached into your pocket and took out your phone. It was a text message from your friend.

'coming down? :)' it said.

you widened your eyes in realization, "oh shit i gotta go!" you grabbed you grabbed your friend, ___'s, instrument case.

"can i at least get your number, ___?" your crush asked pulling out his phone.

"uh sure," you said pulling up your information, "here it is."

once you were finished exchanging numbers, ___ pulled you in for one last kiss. then you picked up the instrument case and dashed out the door. ___ followed soon after, but you were well down the stairs before he could see you one last time today.

you both couldn't wait to see each other the next day.

#crush x reader #crush imagines #crush scenarios #boy x girl #crush series

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sweetsbfreex · 4 years ago

Text

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead).

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim.

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back.

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you.

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together.

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip.

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly.

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile.

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes.

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance.

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?”

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem.

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised.

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself.

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry”

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling.

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed.

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion.

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together”

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded.

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?”

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass.

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity.

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room.

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand.

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone.

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully.

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger.

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture.

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn’t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand.

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task.

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass.

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed.

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully.

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out.

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it.

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss.

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely.

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder.

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder.

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh.

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket.

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you”

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers along the stitches.

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face.

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush.

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily.

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds.

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal.

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face.

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head.

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work.

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with.

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin.

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more.

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders.

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react. “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise.

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself.

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck.

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