knowei

[knowei]

Nikto who’s hesitant to be rough with you, he’s hesitant because the urge to crush you blooms in his chest. irrational, he doesn’t understand it. he would never dream of purposefully harming his lyubov, but his teeth and gums itch with the need to bite when you tease him. his nails uncomfortable, the need to sink them into your plush flesh, drag them across your skin. there’s an ache in his chest where he physically needs you to be, locked behind his ribs and snug against heart

Nikto who’s all rough skin and marred with scars, something he’s silently deemed unfit for your soft touch. he knows you’ll complain, that you adore how he feels. that makes his hands tense, whispers in the back of his mind that he should hold you close and never let go. sink his canines into your shoulder, lap at whatever marks he leaves. he knows you love him, it makes his stomach twist, uneasy that he thinks he should devour you whole

Nikto who gives in to your request, insistent demands, really, to play fight. childish, but endearing in a way that pleasantly clouds his mind. he’ll humor you this one time, kneeling down on the floor with you. if it makes you happy, he’ll pretend to wrestle you, his expression masking how warmth blooms in his chest. it happens again, the moment he pins you it crawls up from gut, searing his throat as he looks down at you. to crush you because his heart demands it, your laughter ringing in his ears. he would never hurt his lyubov, so he tames the wild feeling in his chest. he indulges though, the warmth in his chest comfortably dimming as he rests his weight on you. “We are done.”, he rasps out, content to let you writhe and complain under him

[knowei]

more blunt!simon because he’s hot

he doesn’t even look up from his phone when he says it.

just sprawled across the couch, one arm behind his head, legs spread like he’s on a throne instead of a beat-up cushion that still smells like smoke and sweat.

“ya know, if you’re gonna walk around like that, you oughta be ready to get fucked.”

you freeze. halfway across the living room, wearing nothing but a big t-shirt and the tiniest pair of shorts you forgot you even owned.

“like what?” you ask, already feeling the heat crawl up your throat.

he finally lifts his gaze.

smirks.

“like a mouth-watering little tease,” he says. “jesus. i can see the crease of your pussy from here.”

you make a shocked sound—half gasp, half laugh—and wrap your arms around yourself like that’ll help.

he scoffs.

“don’t act shy. you bent over the fridge earlier like you wanted me to notice. ass all high, thighs squeezin’ together like you were tryna get off on the cold air.”

you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, lazy and cruel.

“if i pulled your shorts down right now, you’d be wet already. bet your fuckin’ panties are stickin’ to you.”

you stare. breath caught in your chest.

he grins wider.

“c’mon. lemme see. won’t even touch. just wanna take a look. see if i’m right.”

his eyes drop, heavy-lidded and hungry.

“you do like it when i talk like this, huh? your nipples are hard.”

you cross your arms tighter, turn to walk away, but his voice chases after you—

low and amused and absolutely depraved.

“run off if you want. just know the second i hear that shower start, i’m gonna be sittin’ here jerkin’ off with the door open. loud. so you know what you did to me.”

[knowei]

pervy!loser!simon x sweetheart!naive!reader

cw: pervy behavior from simon !!!

you don’t even know what you did to him, that first day.

standing there, soft and sweet and smiling like you were made just for him.

and now —

now you’re his.

you curl up against him at night without a second thought, nose tucked under his jaw, breathing slow and even.

trusting him with your whole little heart like he’s not a filthy old man who fists his cock over you every time you leave the room.

trusting him like he’s good.

like he’s safe.

simon brushes a hand down your back, heavy and shaking, breathing you in.

you smell like strawberries. like laundry soap. like home.

he presses his nose into your hair and groans low, desperate, quiet enough not to wake you.

grinds his hips against the mattress, slow and pathetic, just enough to take the edge off.

you make a soft sound in your sleep. a whimper.

he freezes.

"shh, baby," he rasps, kissing your forehead, voice thick and ruined from holding it back.

"s’alright. just me. go back to sleep, love."

like he’s not rutting against the bed like a desperate fucking dog with your body curled against him.

like he’s not thinking about rolling you onto your back, splitting you open on his cock, stuffing you full until you’re crying with it.

he won't.

he never would.

you’re too sweet. too soft.

he’s ruined enough just loving you.

he won't drag you down into the filth with him.

still.

he bites his lip hard enough to taste blood, humping the mattress in short, frantic little jerks, his whole body going tight, trying to finish quick so he doesn’t wake you.

he cums like a fucking animal, teeth gritted, hips stuttering, cock throbbing in his boxers while he chokes on your name.

he tucks you closer after.

pretends he’s a good man.

pretends he’s not leaving a sticky patch on the sheets where he held you too tight.

pretends he deserves you.

and you — sweet thing you are — you just sigh in your sleep and nuzzle closer.

like you know.

like you want him anyway.

[knowei]

Boyfriend!Ghost where you think you’re about to have sex for the first time, but when he takes you to his bedroom he just quietly shows you a bunch of different knickknacks and small rocks he’s collected during deployments for you. runs a couple of the rocks and pebbles under water so you can see their cool colors, “Thought you’d like this one. …Reddish.”

mans been working up the courage to give them to you because he didn’t want you to think it was silly or odd

hi mach 🤭🙇‍♀️

Lovely, brilliant, absolutely so cutesy and yesyesyes 😭🥺 The way I got so much cuteness aggression thinking about this. It reminds me of what my world travelling grandma does in a way, she loves shells and such, has shells from beaches all over.

I hope you like. :) Soft Boyfriend Simon Ghost Riley for you my liege:

He didn’t say much when he tugged your hand and led you upstairs. Just that low, quiet “C’mon,” and the look, something unreadable in his eyes that made your heart kick up a notch.

You thought you knew what was coming.

It felt like it. The soft step of his boots on the stairs, the way his fingers brushed yours and never quite let go, the barely-there nod toward his bedroom door before he pushed it open. You’d been building toward this for a while, slowly, carefully, like everything with Simon, and you figured… well, maybe tonight.

The bedroom’s dim, not romantic exactly, but quiet and private. The air carries that familiar mix of laundry detergent and his soap and something deeper. Him.

Your breath hitches. He closes the door.

But... He doesn’t kiss you... He doesn’t press you back onto the bed or touch your waist.

Instead, he places a kiss on your hand before he crosses to the closet and squats down.

You blink. “Simon?”

“I-” he mutters, voice rasped low, almost sheepish. “I wanna show you something.”

And then he pulls out a box.

He turns to the bed, kneeling now, that black mask that once hid most of his expression long gone, and you can see the tips of his ears are pink.

His fingers, usually so sure, so steady on a trigger, are just a little clumsy as he unwraps a small bundle of from the box.

“’s not much. Just… bits,” he mutters. “Things I picked up, y’know, when I had a minute.”

He places the next one down with care. A flattened piece of sea glass, dull until he brushes his thumb over it. He glances up like he’s checking your reaction for a second.

You nod, lips tucked in tight to hide the smile trying to creep out. Because this is Ghost. Simon fucking Riley. A man who, you know, at least, has killed people--kills people--terrifying to anyone not close enough to him, allies and does alike. A man who, just two months ago, didn’t even like you sitting too close for long. A man who, a month ago, woke up sweating from a nightmare he vehemently refused to share with you, just called you to hear your voice. Now he’s opening up a box of treasures, like a nervous boy showing his crush what he’s kept under his bed.

You. want. to. squeal.

You want to grab his face and kiss him stupid and coo over every pebble like they’re diamonds, because they are, in their own way, because they’re his, and he is sharing them with you.

Instead, you just scoot a little closer, pick up the sea glass between your fingers and hold it to the light.

“This one’s lovely,” you say softly, reverent. “Looks like it used to be red.”

“Was thinkin’ the same,” he mumbles. He clears his throat. “Looked like fire in the middle of the others, from the side of the road. Figured… you might like it.”

You nod again. You’re smiling now--can’t help it--but it’s gentle and careful.

Inside, your heart is doing cartwheels. Outside, you kneel down next to him and just lean a little into his shoulder and whisper, “Thank you.”

Simon relaxes just a bit, shoulders easing, his hand brushes yours, on purpose, maybe.

He pulls another cloth from the box. “Got some others, if ya like.”

You bite your lip to hold back your grin. You’re so gone for him...

He takes another, grabs the water bottle off his bed, pours just a drop into his hand to smooth over the rock. Those huge, calloused, rough hands working so delicately with the little pebble.

You don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until he lays the next one in your palm. A smooth, dark green stone with a pale stripe across the middle, like a horizon line.

“Tha' one’s from Finland,” he says after a pause. “Snow’d just melted. Nearly lost it in the mud. Had to double back.”

Your fingers curl around it, “You kept it all this time?”

Simon shifts a little, seated on the bed with you now, and he doesn’t meet your eyes. “Mm. Kept all of ‘em.”

You glance down at the small collection now spread across the blanket: shells, stones, a bent coin, a keychain with a tiny compass. None of it flashy. All of it worn and real.

Then it clicks, sinks in all the way, like warm tea through your chest.

He didn’t just pick these up.

He picked them up for you.

Your mouth opens, then closes, because you’re not sure what to say. He must see something change in your face, though, because he clears his throat and adds, a little rough, “Meant to give ‘em to you sooner. Just… didn’t know when. Or if it was weird. Or if--if you’d think I was daft.”

Your hand tightens on the green stone. “You’re not daft, Simon.”

His eyes flick to yours, watching and waiting.

You smile, soft and sure. “You’re thoughtful. And I love it.” Then, before you can stop yourself, you hold up the stone. “Would you be okay if I made this one into a necklace?”

He blinks. “You want to wear it?”

“Of course I do,” you say, like it’s obvious. “You brought it back for me. That makes it priceless.”

The tips of his ears are flushed again. You swear you see his jaw shift like he’s trying to suppress a grin.

He mutters, “Got a bit of cord in the drawer. Could show you how to tie it.”

You nod, trying very hard not to bounce on the mattress like a giddy teenager, because Simon Riley just offered to help you make jewelry out of the rock he picked up for you in the Finnish mud.

God, you’re so far gone.

And when he kneels beside the bed again, sorting through the drawer for the cord, he glances at you with the smallest smile in his voice.

“Knew you’d like that one. Told myself, if you ever stuck ‘round long enough… that’d be the first one I gave you.”

Your heart damn near bursts.

[knowei]

Part 2 of ‘Bird Watching’ aka hot construction worker Simon x single mom

In truth, lying was something that came second nature to Simon Riley

He’d lied to his teachers in school about where he got his bruises and burn marks from, if they bothered to ask

He’d lied to his brother while their parents argued on the other side of the wall, telling him that everything would be okay

He’d lied to his dad about where he’d been all night, telling him he was making less money at the butcher job than he really was

Whatever lie he had to give to get through the day, get through the night, get through his childhood, he would offer up without so much as batting an eye

And as he got older, he started stretching the truth for different reasons

Whatever his CO’s needed to hear from him in order to let him do his job, then he’d let them hear it, true or not

Whenever people started asking too many questions, well-equipped sarcasm became his right hand man in avoiding the truth

Lying had always come in handy for Simon, whether it was a life or death situation or goading Soap into believing an obviously fictitious story, carefully chosen words and slight exaggerations had never steered him wrong before

This one, however?

Well, as he sat in an all too colourful daycare office with murals of ducks and bunnies watching over his every move, Simon began to wonder if this was one lie he shouldn’t have told

But then again, he wasn’t telling this lie out of malice, or greed, or ill-intent… he was doing this for you

Because at the end of the day, he’d be lying to no one apart from himself if he were deny how often you popped into his head

Ever since he’d first squinted through the glaring sun and spotted you through that flimsy chain link fence, since he’d heard your voice over the rumble and roar of construction behind him, since he’d spent less than ten whole minutes talking to you, it was as though something within him had started brewing, started changing

Similar to two live wires coincidentally meeting until an inevitable spark shoots through the air, akin to a wind chime that hadn’t rang out in years suddenly beginning to sway to and fro with the promise of strong winds on the horizon, or closer yet to that moment Franklin’s key and kite were struck by lightning and history was forever changed, meeting you had stirred something loose within Simon

For too long now, Simon felt as though he were nothing more than a man stuck behind the wheel, lost in the storm on an infinite stretch of road that would never lead him towards home, no matter how many maps or compasses or tools he may have, he was on a steady cruise control headed nowhere

But since he’d met you, since he’d learned about the situation you were in, you and your sweet little baby bird just as alone as him and up against the world, since he’d made up his mind and decided he’d help you in whatever capacity you’d allow, it was almost as if the fog had cleared from his tired eyes, as though he was finally glancing up from the maps and realizing that ‘home’ could be down any stretch of road he took, if he was willing to take it

You’d stumbled into his life on an afternoon like any other, instantly making a home for yourself in the recesses of his brain by that very same evening

His eyes now were constantly glancing at the phone number now tacked onto his fridge as he went about his routine, your smile appearing behind his eyelids as he tried in vain to fall asleep at night, or the image of the soft swell of your cleavage bouncing as you’d walked away playing on a loop in his mind until he’d accept he wasn’t going to be getting any shut eye until he allowed his hands to slip beneath the blankets

His early mornings were no longer spent cursing having to be up before the sun, instead he found himself staring at the empty spot across from him at the table, wondering if you were awake too, perhaps trying to soothe a fussy baby back to sleep, or feeding her from the same swollen breasts Simon selfishly wished he could suckle from as well

Or were you still laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you too struggled to fall asleep? Too worried about finding your baby bird a spot somewhere before the money ran out? Stressing yourself over things that Simon wished he could fix for you? That he knew he could fix for you?

Less than 24 hours after your first conversation, Simon had hounded just about every living and breathing soul working on the construction site, determined to come up with at least some bit of information, someone to contact, something that would lead him in the right direction, but everyone seemed to be just as in the dark as he was

He wasn’t easily deterred however, nor was he lacking in imagination, when he decided he was unwilling to return to his flat that night without being at least one step closer to having a valid excuse for calling the number that called out to him each time he walked through his kitchen, and so if no one apart from Simon happened to notice that every single blueprint disappeared from the site that night, well that was just unfortunate wasn’t it?

He’d nearly missed the phone call he’d been hoping to get the next morning, preoccupied with having to change his bed sheets after having dreamt of you again all night as visions of your soft body had him feeling like a teenaged boy again, he managed to snag his phone just before the ringer ended

As expected, the site manager had been on the other line, practically beside himself as he told Simon how he’d arrived at the site and discovered that some troublesome teenagers must have snuck in during the night and done away with their building plans, asking Simon if he wouldn’t mind driving to the supervisor’s office and snagging some copies

Simon had already been halfway out the door before he’d hung up

The foreman’s office was cluttered beyond belief, disorganized chaos he sifted through carefully to find the one piece of information he needed, and there amongst the loose papers and pencils and measuring tapes, was the next piece to the puzzle he was slowly solving; the buyers contact information

The blueprints were delivered back to the site in no time, having been kept safe in the back of Simon’s truck the entire time, and a carefully concocted story about needing to run to grab supplies for the job was believed by everyone as the tall man climbed back in behind the wheel and weighed his options

He could reach out to you now, he’d been able to find you the owner’s name, along with an email and phone number to contact, the promise he’d made to you was done, his duty fulfilled

He knew he could call, and you’d be overjoyed to hear from him, that you would be eternally grateful for his help, thanking him endlessly… but that would be the end of it, wouldn’t it? His role would be fulfilled, his duty done and over with, no other valid excuses for you to keep him within your orbit, he’d just be a kind stranger who’d done you an incredibly kind favour

But as Simon pondered that choice, he wondered, why stop here?

You were alone with a newborn, stressed enough as it was, you didn’t need more work being added onto your already full plate, he may as well go the extra mile and help you out even more, right?

At least, that’s what Simon kept telling himself now, as he sat in a too small chair inside of a much too colourful office, avoiding the judgemental eyes of the painted woodland creatures staring at him, as though they knew what his intentions were, waiting for none other than the owner herself

“Hi there, sorry to have kept you waiting.” The woman says as she walks in, reaching a hand out to greet him as he stands to meet her halfway. “My assistant director says you’re here from our newest expansion? The East end location?”

“Yes ma’am, that’d be the one.” Simon offers politely, lowering himself back into the chair he hardly fits in once she rounds the desk and sits down as well. It would make sense that that was what her assistant has told her, as that was the story Simon had offered, reasoning that he had to speak with the owner about the project, not giving them much choice when he showed up to the office unannounced

“There aren’t any issues with construction so far, are there? We shouldn’t be expecting any delays?” She questions, getting straight to the point. Simon appreciates that she isn’t wasting any time with small talk, he also wants this done quick, he’s got a pretty bird waiting on him after all

“No ma’am. Everythin’s on track so far.” He replies easily, omitting the small hiccups she doesn’t need to know about. “M’afraid that’s not why I’m ‘ere today.”

“Well, what can I help you with then?” She questions, an over plucked brow raising as she tilts her head

“Had a few questions ‘bout the nursery we’re buildin’ for ya.”

“Oh, well- I believe the specifications were in the plans for-”

“Not so much ‘bout the building itself, ma’am.” He cuts her off, not unkindly, but clarifying his point. “Was more so wondering ‘bout- well, it’s a decently big plot o’ land we’re working on. How many lil’ ones are meant be in there?” He asks, trying his best to ease his way into this conversation

“Currently, plans are set to have two preschool classes, two toddlers classes, as well as an infant class. With full capacity we could have up to 88 children in the centre. Why are-”

“How many of those spots are for the babes?”

“We can have up to 10 infants at most.”

“Alrigh’, and how many o’ those spots are available?” He finally asks, cutting to the chase, ripping the bandaid off. Simon watches understanding cross her face and she lets out a small scoff, not rude, but more so like she knew she should have expected as much

“Ah, I see now.” She says with a knowing smile sent his way. “I appreciate your interest in our centre, and I understand nursery spots have been scarce in the city, but I have to be honest sir, we do have a wait list policy. There are numerous families already signed up wi-”

“It’s a little girl.” Simon cuts her off firmly this time, not wanting to entertain whatever rejection she was preparing to give him. No, he wouldn’t be leaving here without good news for you, he couldn’t do that. He ignores the painted birds mocking eyes as he steels himself as presses on. “She’s just a tiny thing. Eight weeks old, almost nine now I suppose. Her mum’s got to be back to work, hasn’t got much of a choice. There’s no family ‘round to help or nothin’. She needs this spot for her.”

The woman’s lips thin as she looks at him with understanding, with sympathy, none of the things Simon cares to see unless she’s nodding her head in agreement. He knew it might take a little push to convince whoever was behind the desk to do the right thing, to help him do right by his birdie and her baby bird, and so he’s not ashamed, nor above saying:

“I’ll make sure the job’s done early.”

At this, both her brows now shoot up, obvious intrigue now painted across her features as she blinks at him.

“Pardon?”

“I will see to it that everything is ready ahead of schedule. Personally. The sooner the place is open, the sooner you start making money, the sooner kids are in and sooner parents are happy. Everyone wins.”

Simon watches her ponders his words, gears turning in her head as she thinks it over. She could easily refute him, call him out for being out of line and send him on his way, tail tucked between his legs. But Simon knows a desperate person when he sees one, knows just what people want to hear, and so he isn’t surprised when she’s suddenly standing from her desk, crossing the room to shut the slightly ajar door, and he smiles to himself slightly, knowing he’s won.

“Now when you say ahead of schedule-”

“Could have ‘er ready by the end of the month. I’ll pull the strings, make it happen. You leave it to me and it’ll be done.” He answers easily, confidently, like there is no question in his mind he can offer up such promises and see them through to fruition. Hell, he’d build the entire goddamn thing by himself day and night if that’s what she wanted to hear, whatever would convince her

“I mean-” she says, letting out a long sigh as she leans back in her chair, opening up a drawer and rummaging through for something or another. “I can’t lie, this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve made exceptions for someone, especially one of our own builders.”

Simon nods along, pleased with the way this is going thus far, though things take an abrupt turn when she next says:

“I would still like to meet with your wife and daughter first, just to iron out the enrolment details and confirm whether this would be a good fit, but I can- I could potentially find a way to make this work.”

And Simon knows this is the moment where he’s supposed to correct her, where he’s supposed to speak up and clarify that no, you aren’t his wife and she isn’t his daughter, that she’s misunderstood him and that the two of you are strangers he met earlier this week- fuck he doesn’t even know your baby’s name yet for crying out loud- all of this could fall apart tremendously as soon as she asks even a single question that he won’t have the answer to, potentially jeopardizing this entire thing for you and her, and yet-

“Brilliant. The missus will be thrilled.”

Alrighty first off, apologies for the delay between posts, writers block and life in general are so ew, but we’re so back babe

All the love on the first part was so unexpected and so so appreciated!!! Y’all have me looking like this with every comment and reblog and tag-

Gonna strive to have part 3 out before the end of the weekend hopefully, don’t want to keep you all waiting so long again

- M 🫶🏻

[knowei]

Hello friend! This is my first time sending you an ask and I am a little nervous, lol

Anywho I recently rewatched Lars and the Real Girl and finally came back to Tumblr after months to binge reread all of your stuff (Lord it is so good!)

I was just wondering your thoughts on what positions Lars would prefer to cuddle in? The way he would lay with Bianca was either mildly silly or very sweet. I personally think Lars would prefer a combination of being able to cuddle reader while being able to hold his mothers blanket (I used to do this with cat and my baby blanket lol)

Love your writing dearly and I hope you have a good day!! <3

Hello darling! You’re very welcome in my inbox, and thank you for sending such a gorgeous message! I’m not sure if you expected as lengthy an answer as this, so apologies are probably necessary 😅 I’ve written two kinds of answer below – a very short imagine and a slightly longer analysis - because I had so many thoughts, so take what you need. Also thank you so much, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my writing! There’ll always be more, especially of my beloved Lars. 

Below is mostly fluff and SFW, with a slight lean into NSFW right at the end (last paragraph). Reader is GN.

∘₊✧─────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧ There are more reasons to fall in love with Lars over and over than you can reasonably count. There’s his sparkling eyes locking on yours when he aims a sweet smile at you across a crowded room, making you feel like there is no one on the planet but you and him for just that moment. There’s his vast kindness that makes you feel like a better person just for knowing him. There’s his big hands slipping over yours, fingers interlocking as he whispers soft endearments into your ear, his voice is always slightly shaky, giddy yet nervous.

There is one thing that gets you the most though; his arms. Lars’s arms are strength, they’re security, they’re warmth and softness and you’re the only one who truly knows their comfort. That knowledge alone is enough to satisfy any craving for affection you’d ever have, but when Lars invites you into his bed, and those arms slip around you and squeeze tight, every care floats away one by one. Snuggled against his chest, you’re enveloped in him. The smell of his bedsheets, fresh linen laced with his particular scent, light musk and floral soap; the brand his mother used to use. He’s warm, too, his arms keep out the frigid cold of the Wisconsin snow. Now and again, he gently kisses the closest part of you; the top of your head, your shoulder, your hand when he lifts it to his lips. His mother’s blanket lies beside you, his thumb rubbing tiny circles over the same worn down spot.

∘₊✧─────────────────✧₊∘

Lars and cuddling

∘₊✧ Lars would without a doubt incorporate his blanket into cuddling if the moment was right. We see that he shares it with Bianca for her comfort as much as his own, e.g. when he tells Gus not to forget the blanket because her legs get cold. But we also see him sleep with it in his clutch and take it on his Definitely-Not-A-Date with Margo, because he likes to keep it (and the idea of his mother) close. It allows him to reach out to others, safe in the knowledge that she’s with him. To Lars, sharing that feeling with another would be one of the highest forms of intimacy outside of touch. The blanket is sacred, and if he wraps you in it, so are you.

Lars snuggles into a pillow on another occasion; perhaps imagining what it would be like if the pillow were someone he wanted to be close with like this (practising, just like he practises various other aspects of relationships). Later this is mirrored, when he’s seen cuddling Bianca in bed in a similar position. I think Lars has a strong protective side and would want to offer his partner the very same safety and comfort he craves, so usually prefers to be the big spoon (which also offers him a sense of control over the touching - the level and intensity of it). It may just blow his mind a little bit the first time you pull him to your chest, or wrap yourself around him from behind.

The way we see Lars cuddle Bianca is sweet, but it’s also incredibly intimate, and knowing his problems with touch, this intimacy is all the more intense. We see Bianca on top of him, her head on his chest, limbs wrapped around him; a weighted blanket under which he’s contented, comforted, grounded, safe. He clutches her in the same way we’ve seen him clutch his blanket and pillow. His blanket here, however, is nowhere to be seen, because what he gains from keeping the blanket close is instead provided by her. Similarly, when you’ve shared a passionate moment — whatever that may be; a deep conversation with hand holding, a kiss, a slightly more heated make out, or more — the blanket drops to the floor and there is only the two of you in the whole world laid like this. As you provide him with safety and warmth, his strong arms around you do the very same. 

The only times we see Lars comfortably touch someone else other than Bianca are moments when he feels a surge of emotion. For example, he doesn’t even realise he touches Erik skin-to-skin when Lars puffs his chest out and shakes Erik’s hand without a second thought. And he is filled with warmth and acceptance when he removes his glove to touch Margo’s hand. You however, like Bianca was, are a constant. Once Lars begins to share touch with you, he can’t keep his hands off, and any cuddling is preferable to no cuddling.

The natural course of snuggling up with him then, would usually begin with your head against his chest and your arms around his middle while he grips onto your arms and just feels your body against his. The more you do this, the more he craves it. Sometimes you shift, upwards to look him in the eye (or press your lips to his), or turn around so he can wrap himself around you as he drifts to sleep.

He would prefer to be clothed, the layers offering a safety net to avoid the pain of overexposing himself to touch for too long all at once. He wants to stay like this forever, so the longer he can sustain contact the better. Eventually, as he grows more comfortable with skin-to-skin touching with you, he prefers no clothes at all, so he can really feel you there with him. 

There are also the occasions that cuddling develops into a little more. Kisses turn impassioned, hands wander, and you can feel his arousal so obviously while you’re pressed up against one another. It’s impossible to ignore – and why would you? Your bodies already flush, it’s so easy to take things a step further. Even if you break apart to shed layers to shift positions slightly, he likes to remain like this, as close as he can be, taking things slow so he can feel every bit of you against and around him. It’s somehow less overwhelming like this. It’s safer. He can feel your heart beat as fast as his, your breath catching when he moves a certain way that pleases you. He can learn your body so much quicker like this, buried in it completely.

[knowei]

Okay but what if fae!bride reader was a herbalist and healer before going to the fae court and when John marries the other fae noble she notices his health start to decline and how his food and wine and teas always smell just a little bit off and the new wife is always insisting on being the one to bring him his food, pour his wine and tea, it starts to raise suspicions. She had seen many a people poison their spouses over time until they died, either to escape a bad marriage or to remarry someone of higher status or to even take control of their estates and access their money/political standing. So she starts to look into it, reading on fae flowers and poisonous plants, things that were easily accessible and caused death over time. And she finds it, a flower thats only found in the kingdom of the new fae bride and is regularly sent to the new bride in bouquets from her own court and that she keeps braided into hair. She doesn't know if anyone will believe her, if anyone will listen but she has to try. While the rest of the court ignores her, her ever patient and kind lady in waiting Kate is always there. Always listening and tending to her, and so she slips into conversation that the flower the new bride wears is beautiful but can be deadly if exposed to it for too long or if its crushed into food and she wonders if the fae from that kingdom have developed some kind of immunity to it with it being so prevalent in their home. Kate instantly figures out what shes saying, freezing momentarily before commenting that she supposes they might like how the fae in the underground had developed the ability to see better in the dark than in light. When Kate leaves her that morning, she runs to the other servants spreading word that she thinks the new bride is poisoning king and it spreads like absolute wildflire, first among the maids and then the kitchen staff and then the garden keepers and then the guards, who Simon catches whispering amongst themsleves and demands to know what they're talking about. His eyes widen as pieces start to slip into place, a history long forgotten being dregged up from the recesses of his memory. A family name and their bid for power over a thousand years ago as they attempted to over throw the King at the time for more land and power. He quickly rushes to Johns side, tells them what is happening and while John is relcutant to believe it, his new bride was lovely and caring and he doubted she held a grudge from that long ago but when Simon explains that it was Johns father, the previous king, who had killed her grandfather in the war, he falters. She may not hold a grudge, but her father would and she could be acting as his agent. When Simon tells him the family name, he falters again. He had heard rumours, simple murmurings as he spoke with nobles throughout all the kingdoms, of how the King of this specific kingdom was unhappy with the lack of power, of land, how unrest was brewing inside the court and among the people and he was struggling to regain control. Finally it settles in his soul, his new bride was not there to simply be a political statement, showing the potential unification of the two kingdoms but she was there to take it. To take his crown and his people with it. So John calls in Johnny and Kyle and the 4 of them get to planning on how to out the attempt on his life. Meanwhile, reader is studying more, reading everything she can about the flower and its properties, about what can be used as an antitode and she gets to work. It takes her 3 days to come up with the antitode, and many hushed conversations with Kate as she sent her to the gardens and nearby villages for ingredients, but she does it, all while her husbands are none the wiser.

Once its done, Kate takes it John and insists that one of the healers in the castle has made it so he would take it, knowing he would refuse if he knew it was the little human. Once he drinks it his strength slowly returns and he starts to feel better and he finally has the strength to confront his bride, letters to her kingsom he had intercepted in his hands proving her plan. He accuses her in front of the court, letters fully on display and her eyes widen, face going pale, as all of the courtiers and nobles stare on in shock, anger and horror of what she had done. He had considered executing her then and there, but Kyle reminded him an execution without fair trial would be an act or war against her kingdom and though he was sure it would be war they would win he didnt want to sacrafice to lives of his men in her name, so he imprisons her, sends a letter to her kingdom to let them know, and set up a trial within the nobility which he already knew the outcome off.

That night he notices his human Queen is quieter than usual, hands drawn together under the table and arms fully covered as if she was hiding something. He catches her wrist as she reaches for her wine and pulls down her sleve slightly, showing burn marks from where the antitode had bubbled over and burned her and scratches where some of the fae plants she handled caused a reaction. After that she is quick to dismiss herself for the night, going to walk in the gardens under tge moonlight with Thrain and Glowy by her side. John starts to slot the puzzle pieces together, remembering what his human had been before she was in his court and when looks up to Kate and sees her nod the realisation hit him like waterfall. Hard, fast, all at once and soaking him through to the bone. He had not been cruel to the human, but yet he had not been kind either. He supposed he was a different kind of cruel, leaving her to do the unwanted work, leaving her to wander the halls and gardens alone her only companions the monsters she caller 'pets', her only friend was Kate and he finally realised he had isolated her. He had made it so she had nothing and no one, not even him and his men and they were her husbands and yet, she still saved his life. Had went out of her way to learn fae herbalism and poisons and works to find a cure so he could live. He had provided her with nothing but lonliness and pain and yet all she gave him was kindness. He soon followed afrer her, finding her in her favourite spot of the gardens, Thrain at her side like a loyal guard while Glowly and willow wisps floated around her gracefully. Thrain huffed at him, stomping his feet in warning which caused her to turn to him and John falls at her feet with one knee on the ground and his head bowed.

"My Queen, I do not deserve your kindness and yet you give to to my anyways"

this was a whole meal from start to finish holy shit?? Thank you eevie you are spoiling me rotten here 😩😩 the way john kneels in front of her? Absolutely peak. Peak, i tell you. ALSO LASWELL AS HER TRUSTED MAID… oh yes 😍 i am stealing that from you with much love <333

[knowei]

Fae au thought

One of them storming into her chambers only for her to be in the middle of a bubble bath. Completely bare of all things fae. So utterly human, so utterly vulnerable.

yes || masterlist || trying my hand at actually writing johnny’s accent

It was Johnny.

Of course it was Johnny.

The door slammed open with the force of a man too furious to remember propriety, the wood crashing against the stone with a bang that echoed like thunder down the gilded corridor and scattering the softly glowing wisps that floated lazily in your chambers like fireflies caught in honeyed light. The very walls groaned in protest, ancient ivy carved into the pillars flinching at the fury that surged in behind him. His voice followed, sharp, brimming with a fire he rarely let show in court.

"Where the fuck were you- ?!"

Every faelight in the room flickered, dimming in tandem with his rage. Then, silence; a heavy, suffocating silence.

You turned in the tub, water sloshing gently against porcelain as your hand rose to clutch at the side. Bubbles clung lazily to your shoulders, slipping down soft skin untouched by glamour or adornment. No jewelry curved your ears to points. No talon-shaped rings or flower-laced braids. No velvet. No corset. No thorns. Bare as a whisper, as a prayer. Soaked in steam and solitude, skin flushed from heat.

Only you.

Bare, human, and blinking at him like a deer startled mid-step in a clearing.

The fury drained from him in an instant.

Johnny’s lips parted, then closed. His eyes flicked- once, only once- before they dropped to the floor, jaw tightening with restraint. The fire had not gone out, but it was merely stifled now, banked beneath something deeper and rougher.

“Dinnae mean to…” he muttered, voice cracking low, throat bobbing.

You remained quiet, shoulders curling ever so slightly inward. The room, warm and fragrant with oils and rose petals, suddenly felt too still, too quiet, even though distant flutes played, music still drifting in from the spring festival below. One of the glass windows glowed a faint blue, letting in the moon’s touch. You reached for a towel, slow and deliberate, never taking your eyes off him.

And you- so achingly human- were the only thing in the room that didn’t shimmer. It made you seem all the more delicate.

“… You could knock next time.” You said, softly, not with anger, but with a tiredness that had settled deep into your bones. The kind that no glamour could mask. The kind even Thrain’s company barely eased. The kind that had nothing to do with being fae or queen or wife, and everything to do with simply being alone for too long. With being human in a place that did not welcome it.

Johnny didn’t leave, though, even if he should have.

Instead, he stepped back once- just once- and turned his head, gaze fixed on a tapestry like it had offended him personally.

“I thought somethin’’d happened,” he said, voice low and rough, accent thick. “Ye weren’t in yer chambers, or at the table. No one had a fuckin’ clue where ye’d gone. Court’s been crawlin’ all day- bastards won’t stop askin’ for more time wi’ ye. Price is snappin’. Gaz nearly stuck a blade in some prissy noble’s gut when he asked too sweetly where’d you gone. I dinnae even know where Si’s at an’ I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

You sank back into the water, letting the warmth cradle your frame.

“I just wanted a bath,” you whispered, sinking back into the bath, water lapping gently at your collarbone. The petals shifted around you, soft and luminous. “Not a title. Not another favor asked of me. Just…” Your fingers trailed across the surface, drawing circles. “To be myself. For a little while.”

The silence stretched. But it wasn’t heavy this time, and neither was it angry. Quiet.

After a moment, you heard the sound of boots stepping away. Not leaving- just moving. Then the faint scrape of wood against stone that had been etched with centuries’ worth of wards to keep wicked things at bay.

He was sitting, less like an advisor and more a knight keeping watch outside a princess’s door. But even closer than that.

“I’ll stay,” he said gruffly, crossing his arms as though daring anyone to argue with him- even you. “Not lookin’. Just… watchin’ the door.”

A pause. Then, in a voice so quiet you’d never think he was even capable of, Johnny sighed. “… Take yer time, queenie. Dinnae let me take this away from ye.”

You had no answer for that.

But when you rose, wrapped in soft linen and smelling of dusk-flowers and magic, your bare feet kissed the glowing floor, and your eyes met his- he didn’t look away this time.

Not even once.

(You told yourself it was not hunger that colored his eyes; you doubted he’d find a human attractive.)

[knowei]

The beginning of his transformation

[knowei]

Soap read too many romance stories when he was young where people kissed open mouths and “their tongues fought for dominance” and so now he’s an insanely aggressive and sloppy kisser because he’ll be damned if he loses that fight. If you let him go to town, there’s gonna be spit dripping down your chins from the corners of your mouths.

Imagine a scenario where he can’t fuck you. Can’t even eat you. Maybe you’re trying to put him to the test— tell him you’re not gonna put out until you’re really sure he’s taking things seriously, but kissing is fine.

Man is gonna tongue fuck your throat until he cums in his pants.

[knowei]

CW// Sexual Themes!! 16+ ig

i made this animatic thing because i was feeling nostaligc about animatics off of @quarterlifekitty ‘s promethean!!! absolutely bomb little series thing plz check her out!!!! this was rlly fun to make im trying to get back into the swing of art properly again RAHHH

also ignore ghost looking creepy as fuck in the last panel xx

[knowei]

Late night thoughts about incubus husband…

He’s such a flirt. Every time you go out he dons a different human disguise. It’s always annoying seeing him flit about the bar, changing himself to cater to whichever person he’s talking to.

Really, your husband just wants to make you jealous. He’s a bit of an attention whore, and usually you’d just tug him away and ride his cock until he’s sensitive and crying, begging to fill your cunt with his cum but being denied because of how bad he was.

But he went a bit too far tonight.

You were finishing off your drink when you spotted him across the bar, his fingers twirling a woman’s hair. Already this was a bit much for you, and you stood to stop him.

But you froze in place when his eyes glanced towards you before he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Looks like I’m taking home a pretty lady tonight. Don’t worry, my wife won’t mind.”

He glanced back to gauge your reaction, excited to face some kind of kinky punishment for being a flirty brat… but instead he was met with your teary eyes.

Instantly the woman was forgotten as he followed you out. “W-wait, please, you know I wasn’t being serious, right? I was just-“

You turned on your heels, pointing a finger into his chest. “Maybe to someone like you marriage is just some kind of fun game, but it actually means something to me! I don’t exactly enjoy you treating my love for you like a joke!”

His eyes went wide with shock and hurt, his disguise disappearing as he reverted back to his original form. The sight of his tail twitching nervously almost made you soften… almost.

“My love… that’s not-“

You swatted his hand away, storming off. “… find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I… need to rethink some things.”

Your husband stared at your back as you left, his chest aching in a way it never had before. Could this really be the end of your marriage? No, no of course not. You loved him, and he would do anything for you. There’s no way such a small issue could divide the two of you that easy… right?

Oh how wrong he was.

When he attempted to come home the next night, his clothes and personal items were packed up on the porch, and the locks were changed.

This wasn’t something he could just smooth over with a few kisses and a good fuck. You were genuinely upset, something he could barely comprehend.

Upset? Why, because he was being a bit of a brat? His view only changed when he was complaining to a friend through tears and a glass of wine.

“Well, what would you do if she did the same?”

The glass shattered in his hand, his pupils turning into slits. The image of you walking up to a man, cooing and attempting to seduce him right in front of your husband made his heart boil in a jealous rage.

So that’s how you felt…

“I’m an idiot…” he murmured, looking at your picture. When he married you, he swore off ever having sex with another person. You were his sole source of sustenance and love, his only reason to breathe and live.

If he lost you, what would he even do besides sob until his heart stopped?

If he wanted to keep his beloved, he’d have to win you back…

Fortunately, the incubus knew just what to do.

Part 2? And should I go the yandere route or normal route?

—————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[knowei]

This post made me start thinking about getting a false positive test with Simon.

You tell him you felt a little strange, your period was late, so you took an at home test, and it came back positive. You know how he feels about fatherhood, so you hasten to point out that these tests can be wrong— so you’ll need to go to the doctor to make sure.

He spends the next week up to your appointment in a haze. All he thinks about is you and what life will be like if you’re pregnant. God, what if you wanna keep it? If he leaves, he’ll be a deadbeat, but what if he stays and he’s a shit father, like his was?

Everything little, every baby aisle in the store, every pram out on the street makes him think. He can’t focus on anything else.

Eventually, he reckons that it’s likely the test was accurate. That he needs to be prepared. And the more he comes to accept it… the more he finds himself excited. The more he wants it. He’s looking up recipes that are good for expecting mothers. What to put in a hospital overnight bag. The pros and cons of formula vs breastmilk. He’s still terrified, but he’s also happier than he thinks he’s been since he got together with you.

So when he gets the news that the test at the doctor’s came back negative, he’s a little gutted. You were excited to tell him— you thought this was saving your relationship, but he doesn’t seem relieved at all…

Tells the lads about it in an uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability when they’re spending the night in a safe house. Price is smiling and about to give him an eloquent response with relevant advice.

“Jus’ knock ‘er up fo’real then,” Soap blurts out, earning an elbow to the ribs.

[knowei]

No but imagine after a long day of being yelled at by the farspace fleet colonel you log onto moments and see ur literal boss comment “XD” and “:P” under some girl’s post

[knowei]

Ngl. Kafka is such a fucking twink. He is such a nervous little Jewish twink I want to fucking humiliate him so bad. He is so educated and has a very conscious inner world. I just want him to face humiliation and abrasion from me omfg. I want him to overthink his embarrassments because that’s what he naturally does. „It’s in my nature“ he once told Felice. I want him to have a phase in his life where he is subjected to utmost physical and stimulating embarrassments and humiliations. He is such a depressing melancholic twink who writes for shit. He is MY depressing melancholic twink who writes for shit. I just like to imagine observing above him as he writes his little wittle pathetic stories. Who writes his pathetic stories about metamorphosing pathetic insects and his stories about weird trials and jurisdictions. Then await until the time comes where he fucking faces his humiliations. Whatever that is. I want to fucking overstimulate him until he weeps. This silly fucking German speaking twink. I want to hear him whimper some twinkly German shit like „H–H–Halt bitte~~~~“😣 in his whimpering, weak groggy tuberculosis infected fucking throat as I spank him or stimulate him as he sits on my fucking lap. My fucking god. I just want him to be in my possession. I want to corrupt this already corrupted motherfucker. I want him to feel ashamed for no reason. 

What happened to just saying "I love Kafka"

[knowei]

Imagine you're a centaur. A very ideal centaur, you have all the qualities one wants in a mate. Everyone is always vying for your attention- you can basically pick whoever you want. But you don't want any of the impressively muscular stallions, nor the near-angelically beautiful ones, there's only one person you could ever imagine wanting. He's a donkey centaur. He's not very well built, more on the stocky side, his front teeth are big and he has a lazy eye but he's humble and kind and he's everything to you and no one would dare say a word against him with you nearby

Oh, to be a Centaur!Reader who is wanted by everyone in the grove, but you only have eyes for the shy, kind-hearted onocentaur.

He's always looked after you without expecting anything in return. He knows he doesn't look like the other centaurs. There's no elegance to him, no ethereal beauty, no chiseled build that would put other warriors to shame. He's just him; and he has a difficult time understanding that it's enough for you.

If only he could see himself the way you see him.

[knowei]

Nikto indulges in allowing you to be selfish.

You've always been quiet and meek with your desires and wants- ashamed and embarrassed. Your soft fingertips aching to embed in the fabric of his shirt, into the rough marks on his back- anything to anchor yourself to him.

But you shouldn't. You tell yourself. The little nagging words linger in the back of your mind. Don't be selfish. Being clingy will make him realise how desperate you are. How lonely and deprived you are. All those walls built around your heart, and for what? to tear them down for the first man who says he loves you?

The insecurities keep you tame. Keep you reluctant and hidden, right before his eyes.

That will not do.

He'll guide your fingertips to trace up the hard muscle of his sides- thick and unyielding, muscle and silvery scars bump against your palms as they traverse with his guidance- thick right fingers coiled around yours, guiding, guiding, searching for the cracks in his armour. You peel them away so easily- too easily. You feel the shape of his ribs, lathered in thick scars and welts. Burnt skin, tatters of remaining inked skin, a small birthmark on his side. A deep indulgent hiss aching from his throat as he keens you to bite your nails into his skin- tether yourself to him, as he wishes. As you wish.

You hesitate with a soft noise- Okey filled with worry for him, your fingers curling away from him. He doesn't allow you- not letting you run and hide. His hands engulf yours, and he aches your palms into his sides. Guiding you to latch as his mouth grazes over your forehead, his mind buzzing and purring with appreciative whispers.

"Tear. Bite. Claw. You will not hurt me little one. Little soft thing like you, hm? You make us laugh". His chuckle is low and dry and soft.

"Andre, I-".

"let me be yours- we are yours. Do not feel shame, never. Not you".

His mission is accomplished when you ease softly and slowly like putty. His dearest girl. Your nails bite deeper into him, and he hisses contently.

Be selfish. Let yourself have that.