#900+ Followers!

[misojohnist]

finally came up with a good poll idea so, for posterity:

[happy-thou9hts]

yippee yippee yippee 900 followers!!! 1!1!

[daily-odile]

1,,,, 100 days,,,,,,,,, and 800 followers,,,,,,,,,,,,,

From the bottom of my heart, thank you everyone.........!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[vivrhan]

　✬　　🎧　　born　　to　　be　　popular

[batmanshole]

if you have multiple blogs pick the one you use the most often.

also out of curiosity, how many are mutuals?

[gatchinko]

ʚmiffy mugʚ

[slavhew]

getting heartbroken is way cool

[lyranova]

Nozel x reader fashion au where reader is a fashion designer and maybe nebras friend? And nebra calls reader to make a suit for nozel and that's how they met? You can continue the story with creative liberties❤️❤️

Oh and congratulations on 900 followers!!!

Hiya anon, thank you so much! I apologize for the wait, I did incorporate the first half of your request, but I decided to have Nozel and the reader already in a relationship since I couldn’t quite figure out a good scenario for them to meet in with the suit 😅. But I still hope you enjoy~!

Word Count: 1,695

Warnings: None

————

“ Listen; I have a big favor to ask you-!”

“ No.”

“ Oh come on just hear me out!” Nebra Silva groaned on the other end of the phone, making you sigh and shake your head even though she couldn’t see it.

There were two types of favors Nebra would ask of you; one was that you design a custom outfit for her at a discount, and the second was that you design an outfit for a friend of hers for free.

Which one will it be today, you wondered.

“ Fine, I’ll hear you out,” You muttered as you quietly set your pen down. You could hear Nebra excitedly clap her hands on the other side of the phone, which made you smile a bit.

“ Alright! So, I want you to make a suit for my brother, Nozel,” Nebra began quickly, and your breath hitched in your throat.

This…was a gift for Nozel?

“ His birthday is coming up and I wanted to get him something special, which is why I called you! You’re one of the best designers in the world, there’s no one else I would trust to make a perfect suit for him!” She told you quickly.

“ So, will you do it? Please?” She begged, and that’s when you knew just how much this meant to her.

Nebra Silva never begged, and she most certainly never said ‘please’.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“ Alright, I’ll make the suit for him,” You said as you picked up your pen again and began to start some preliminary designs. “ I’ll send you some sketches by the end of the week. Oh, and I’m charging you full price since it’s a complete suit.”

“ Thank you~! I’m sure it’ll be perfect, and if it’s not then I just won’t pay you,” Nebra said with a chuckle, but you knew she was completely serious with her words.

You sighed again and shook your head, and just as you were about to hang up she suddenly asked a question that made your heart stop for a moment.

“ Oh, but don’t you need Nozel’s measurements to start sketching?” She asked, her tone curious.

You were quiet for a moment, your brain going a mile a second as you tried to think of what to tell her.

After all, how did one explain to their friend that the reason they weren’t asking for their older brothers measurements was because they already had them due to…reasons?

“ I don’t need his measurements right now; so you can just wait and give them to me later.” You explained quickly, hoping that your friend would accept that and not ask anymore questions.

Nebra hummed curiously for a moment, making your palms sweat and your heart race anxiously.

“ Alright, I’ll try to get Solid to get his measurements tomorrow so I can send them to you,” She said, and you couldn’t help but let out a very quiet sigh of relief.

She bought it…at least for now.

After saying goodbye and making a promise to meet later in the week, you hung up the phone and sighed dramatically before resting your head on your arms.

“ Is something wrong?” A familiar voice asked behind, his tone curious but also laced with concern.

You slowly turned your head to the right and saw Nozel Silva standing there; a towel in his hand as he tried his best to dry his dripping silver locks, his normally braided bangs hanging loosely between his eyes.

Your gaze traveled down to where his usually loose, grey t-shirt now tightly clung to his body; and where his white pajama pants with grey stripes rested loosely around his thin waist.

You groaned as you closed your eyes and moved your head away, how on earth was your boyfriend of over a year able to make even the most casual of clothes look so good?!

“ What’s wrong?” He asked, his tone sounding more concerned as he walked over to you, he set his towel down onto the table before he placed a hand on the back of your chair and the other on your arm.

“ Nothing, it’s just…work,” You muttered, not bothering to lift your head. Nozel’s eyes slowly drifted towards your sketchbook, a critical hum escaping him as he picked up one of the designs.

“ Who is this suit for?” He asked curiously as he raised a thoughtful hand under his chin.

You sighed and raised your head slightly.

“ A very picky client.” You muttered, not daring to give away Nebra’s identity, or who this suit was meant to be for.

He nodded solemnly.

“ I see, I completely understand since I also have my fair share of picky clients,” He admitted with an irritated shake of his head. “ Should I talk to them?”

You shook your head and waved away his concern; the last time he had talked to one of your clients he had completely scared them off!

“ It’s alright, I can handle them on my own,” You told him softly, but your voice was full of gratitude and a gentle smile worked its way onto your face.

Nozel nodded, and you swore you saw a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“ Then, would you like me to help you with these sketches? That way the problem client can’t cause you more problems?” He offered, his eyes still locked on the sketchbook.

You hummed in thought; one the one hand you wanted it to be a surprise, but on the other you thought it might be better that he at least give some input into his own suit.

“ Sure, have a seat and tell me what you think,” You told him, and he nodded before doing as you requested.

You watched Nozel anxiously, looking for any positive or negative expressions; but as always he kept his face neutral, serious, and very focused. He never gave his thoughts away, which both intrigued yet frustrated you.

“ Is this what the client requested?” He asked as he began flipping through the pages, you shook your head.

“ No. This suit is supposed to be a surprise for someone else,” You explained as you fully lifted your head and rested your chin in the palm of your hand. “ I’ll get more information later this week.”

He silently nodded.

The anxiety came crawling back as you waited for his verdict; surely the designs weren’t that bad?

After a moment Nozel set the sketchbook down and looked at you with a serious expression.

“ These all suck,” He told you bluntly, and you swore that you felt an arrow shoot you through the heart.

“ Well that hurts.”

“ Would you rather I lie in order to spare your feelings?” He asked with a raised brow, and you shook your head.

As much as it hurt, you would rather he be honest about his critiques; not only was this suit being made for him, but also because you valued his input as a senior Fashion Designer.

“ No,” You admitted with a sad sigh.

“ Hand me a pencil.” He instructed, and you frowned in confusion but did as he requested.

He took it with a small nod in thanks before he began scribbling and making notes on your sketches.

You watched him silently, the only sound in the room being the scratches of the pencil against the paper. But instead of feeling anxious in this silence like before, you felt this…calmness take over you.

You always loved watching him work; the way his eyes would narrow as he focused, the way a small smile would work its way onto his face as the design came together, and the way his purple eyes would glance up at you to see if you were watching him…

Wait, that wasn’t something he normally did!

You felt your heart skip a beat and your face heat up in embarrassment at having been caught staring. Nozel chuckled softly but didn’t say a word as he went back to your sketchbook.

After another moment he handed it back to you and stood up.

“ I have an early day tomorrow, so I’m going to bed first,” He told you softly as he walked over to stand beside you.

Nozel placed a hand against your cheek, leaned down, and placed a sweet, gentle kiss against your lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you kissed him back, your hand reaching up to gently rest against his.

“ Don’t stay up too late.” He told her, his voice quiet but serious, and you smiled a bit.

“ Is that an order?”

“ Yes,” He replied bluntly, making you giggle before leaning forward to place another quick kiss against his lips, making his eyes widen and his face burn.

“ Alright Captain, I’ll follow your order,” You told him playfully, a soft giggle escaping you as you watched your boyfriend roll his eyes at the silly nickname. “ I’ll fix the designs and then I’ll come to bed.”

Nozel nodded before standing up, wishing you a goodnight, and walking towards your shared bedroom.

You let out a quiet, tired sigh and reached out to grab your sketchbook. Better get started on his corrections, you thought.

But much to your surprise, when you opened the sketchbook you didn’t see any corrections; instead you saw tiny little notes.

Positive and encouraging notes…

As your eyes scanned the pages slowly, you felt your heart fill with warmth and love. Nozel wasn’t the best at expressing his emotions and telling people how he felt about them; at least not verbally.

Whether it was through little notes like this or through his clothing designs, he was much better at expressing himself through his art and writing.

And that was one of the many things you loved about him.

You gently closed the sketchbook, stood up, and walked into the bedroom where you slipped quietly into the bed beside Nozel. You wrapped your arms around him, quietly thanked him for the encouragement, and told him that you would make the best suit, most impressive for your client because of it!

He chuckled, rolled over, and sleepily told you how he couldn’t wait to see it as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

—————

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[phoenixtakaramono]

【which is better: television or the radio?】

Thanks for 900! (🔗)

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Idk if I can ask this of youuuu buuuuut hear me out. Chrollo right right. Taking you to the aquarium

I am hearing you loud and clear, my friend 💛

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapped reader, Implied captivity.

Word Count: 411

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Chrollo’s voice came from your left, but you didn’t look towards him to acknowledge what he said. Instead your eyes remained on the enormous wall of glass that separated you from thousands, if not millions of gallons of water.

The creature in question that earned that comment from Chrollo was drifting by slowly. If someone didn’t know any better, they’d call the movements aimless. Without purpose.

“Dearest?”

“I heard you.” You replied flatly, not looking away from the whale shark swimming no more than twenty feet away from you.

He hummed. “Millions of years on this earth, and still they remain the same.”

You glanced at him briefly, knowing well that he had more to say than just that. You decided to humour him.

“Why would there be any need to?” The whale shark adjusted its course to swim further towards the middle of its massive tank. “Their environment has been stable enough that evolving in response to any change isn’t necessary.”

“True.” He said. “But even still, it’s such a shame such magnificence doesn’t do well in captivity.”

You grunted. “Couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that replicating their environment is almost impossible.” One of your hands went out to gesture to the whale shark as its form grew more desaturated due to distance. “Pelagic species like this don’t belong here.”

“Perhaps this is the moment they needed, then.”

An expression of confusion and mild annoyance spread across your face. “What?”

“To change.” He continued. “They’ve barely evolved because there hasn’t been any need to, correct? Perhaps time in captivity is the stepping stone into that.”

“You can’t be serious.” You scoffed. “You realize that evolution takes millions upon millions of generations to occur, right? There’s no way in hell that would be able to happen, not in this lifetime.”

“Perhaps not evolution, but adaptation.”

“It’s in the same vein.” You argued, getting agitated by how dismissive he was on something that was so obvious to you. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Why ever not? If a species as complicated as a human can change their behaviour to suit their environment, surely a creature that has had little change in its initial design could as well.”

The was an ever growing urge to swat at him, and you had to clench your jaw to suppress it. “What’s your point, Chrollo?”

He smiled as his eyes moved between you and the aquarium.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2023. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 130

[thetwstwildcard]

Welcome to Lizz's 900+ follower raffle ~!!!!

How to enter:

Be a follower (new followers are welcome 🧡)

Reblog this post and in the tags include an orange heart emoji 🧡 (or put " orange heart " in the tags if you can't use the emoji) to count as an entry (If not, you aren't entered)

Multiple entries are allowed, maxing at 5 per person (use the same rule as above to count as an entry)

Winner will be chosen by a wheel 🎉

Prizes:

1st Place: A chibi sprite in any clothing, so dorm uniform (fandorm and fanschool included), school uniform, casual clothing or overblot clothing (overblot monster not included!) with added accessories (see reference image)

2nd Place: A chibi sprite in any dorm uniform (fandorm and fanschool welcome)

3rd Place: A chibi sprite in their school uniform (fanschool allowed)

Please do have either art or references of your oc available in case you do win.

Winners will be contacted and will have 48 hours to respond, if not their prize will be passed onto someone else.

Good Luck Everyone ✨🧡

[crabussy]

if you’re friends with the host of a system please PLEASE make an effort to get to know the others in the system. a lot of the time, since the host tends to front the most, the other people in the system aren’t able to socialise as much and end up without much of a support group or many friends. reaching out means the world!!

- enquire about a certain headmate! how are they doing? what have they been up to?

- message alters even when they aren’t in front. make them feel wanted even when they’re not around

- @ them in things that remind you of them!! if they have their own accounts on tumblr send asks!!

being a member of a system comes with unrelenting struggles and worries, and it is in your power to be able to alleviate some of these concerns. make your system friends feel loved!! [:

[beefrobeefcal]

an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear

Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.

Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.  

You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.  

What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.  

Thank Kevva for sedatives.  

You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you. 

After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.  

For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry. 

“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.  

“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.” 

The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.  

Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again. 

***** 

The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.  

The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food. 

By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.  

Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit. 

“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.  

He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.  

Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.  

“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?” 

His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.  

His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.  

“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“ 

“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.  

He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him.  “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.” 

He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.  

Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.” 

His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him. 

“Looks old.” 

If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.” 

The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you. 

“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.” 

“...Favour?” 

“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.  

“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “ 

He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.  

“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.” 

You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.  

“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.” 

His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.  

“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.  

He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper. 

“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.” 

His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.  

“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?” 

All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.  

You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.  

“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.  

You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.  

“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.” 

***** 

Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.  

“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.” 

His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.  

“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.” 

Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.  

“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly. 

Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.  

The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.” 

He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.  

“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.” 

Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core. 

***** 

Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess. 

“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.  

“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.” 

You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”. 

The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.  

As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.  

“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.” 

When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.” 

You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.  

You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Suck it in.” 

“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“ 

“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.  

Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…”  You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…” 

The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.” 

You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure. 

“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?” 

Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you. 

As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.  

His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed. 

“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…” 

You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist. 

In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.  

The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.  

“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.” 

Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.  

“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…” 

You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands. 

As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.  

“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement. 

“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?” 

A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter. 

“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.  

“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.” 

Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.  

Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion. 

“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.” 

As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.  

“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”  

As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder. 

“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.  

His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.  

Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you. 

You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you. 

“P…please…” 

“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes. 

You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.  

“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.” 

He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.   

“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.  

“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.  

“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...” 

“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!” 

It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red. 

“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.  

He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him. 

“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “ 

The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!” 

Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.  

“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.” 

You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.  

“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “ 

“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”  

The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.  

“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-” 

“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!” 

He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?” 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully. 

His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand. 

“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.” 

“N-next time?” 

He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.  

He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.  

“There is always a next time, Cricket.” 

[fairy-writes]

Hello! For the event, what do you think about Albert (Moriarty the Patriot) and the 9th action prompt? 👀

9) Showing up to surprise their lover when they’re in a long-distance relationship

ONE GOOD SURPRISE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Albert James Moriarty x Gender Neutral!Reader

Prompt: 9) Showing up to surprise their lover when they’re in a long-distance relationship (Action Prompt #9)

Notes: The mentioned war in this is fictional. I don’t know exactly when MTP occurs, so I’m making this up.

__________________________________________________________________________

It was safe to say you were miserable.

William could tell. 

Fred could tell. 

Hell, even Moran could tell. 

The only person who couldn’t tell was the only one who wasn’t there. 

Of course, you had letters. You exchanged them as frequently as the mail system would allow. Still, you didn't get many with Albert overseas managing soldiers in the East. You kept said letters in a box by your bedside, reading them by candlelight when missing your husband got particularly bad. 

Seven months, three weeks, and seventeen days since he had been gone with no end in sight. 

You sigh for the umpteenth time that day, and Moran throws down his cards in frustration.

“If you’re not gonna play, then don’t play! I don’t want to play with you while you’re mopey and depressed!” He snaps, and you glare in his direction. He flinches at the frosty look and holds up his hands with a “geez, sorry.” 

Eventually, you leave Moran alone, and he bugs Fred into playing a round of poker with him and Jack. 

William finds you out in the gardens of the Moriarty estate. 

He sits beside you without a word as you read through Albert’s latest letter. It had been delivered earlier that week. It contained the usual: whatever updates he could give you, responses to your letters, how much he missed and loved you, and asked the occasional odd question when he detailed what he had been doing since his last letter. 

“I’m being insufferable, aren’t I?” You ask your younger brother-in-law, who simply hums as he watches a light breeze sway the flowers Fred worked so hard for. 

“I don’t believe you’re being insufferable. A little tiresome to deal with, maybe, but everyone understands why so they don’t mind.” He says, and you look up from the letter,

“Except for Moran. I think he’s about ready to wring my neck.” William huffs out a laugh at that. 

“Except for maybe Moran.” He agrees. 

The two of you sit in silence for a minute. But it isn’t an uncomfortable silence. Instead, it’s warm and welcoming. It was something you sorely missed from Albert. 

And something you likely wouldn’t have for a while. 

“I’m afraid I must get back to my duties. With Albert gone, his responsibilities as a Lord have fallen to me.” William says and stands. He offers you a smile that has something concealed behind it. 

What was he hiding?

You narrow your eyes, but he says nothing more, instead leaving you to your own devices as you trace the letters in Albert’s note with your thumb. 

“They’re rather beautiful, aren’t they?” Comes a familiar voice, and your heart stops. You stand shakily, turning around to see your husband standing at the entrance to the gardens. He hadn’t even changed from his uniform, his medals decorating his breast and glinting in the sunlight. His hair was mussed and tousled from the wind, and running his hand through it. You swear you could see soot from gunfire staining his cheek. He looks tired as if he had come from the docks directly here. 

He likely had.

You set the papers down inside the box of letters you had been carrying with you, all the while looking at Albert. He sets down his hat and opens his arms, and the floodgates burst open. 

You crash into your husband and knock him to the ground in a bear hug. Your arms go around his neck, and you’re kissing him desperately. He cradles your cheeks, and you can almost taste the tears streaking someone’s cheeks. Whether they’re his or yours, you can’t tell.

But that doesn’t matter. 

Seven months, three weeks, and seventeen days later, he was finally home. 

[lovelynim]

Fabi dearest Fabi congrats on the incredible milestone, you deserve every follower and many more! For the request *makes funny face* can I please ask something with Dr. Zayne x Lee!Reader, maybe reader is having a health checkup but Zayne's touch tickles too much. Or something. 🙏 🥹

Ginnyyyyy!!

Thank you so much! ~ Eheh, I kinda expected you to ask something with dr. Zayne (I'm also the one to blame for it). Now, I wonder how this one will turn out (and let's hope it's all cover by our insurance!)

“Do you still have trouble sleeping at night?” Zayne asked in his usual cold, serious voice tone as his eyes went through page after page, carefully reading the results of your exams. Regardless of it being his working hours, you couldn’t help but wish he was a little sweeter - you two were dating, after all.

You let out a sigh, crossing one ankle over the other and resting your hands on the examination table to support your body as you leaned back. “Not anymore, doctor,” You looked up to the ceiling. It would be better to avoid the small talk - you didn’t need Zayne reminding you about how you needed to keep personal feelings outside the hospital and blah blah blah. Boring.

“But are you getting 8 hours of sleep?” Zayne looked up from the pages in his hands, raising one eyebrow as he waited for your answer. Busted.

“W-well, most of the days, yes, I think,” you let out a nervous chuckle and Zayne simply shakes his head slightly in disapproval.

“Your exams show nothing to worry about and it seems your condition is stable so far,” Zayne explained, carefully arranging the pages on top of his desk before picking the stethoscope up from around his neck.

You straighten your posture as soon as you notice he is approaching you and, for some reason, you feel a little nervous. It’s just another run out of the mile check-up, you tell yourself inside your head, trying to shrug off the feeling of uneasiness.

Zayne places the earpieces on his own and looks at you, seemingly puzzled. “Is there something wrong?” He asks, standing inches away from you.

“...no, doctor,” you hesitate for a moment, looking back at him in the eyes.

As if trying to figure you out, Zayne delays himself for a couple more seconds before wrapping one arm around your body. “Then, excuse me,” he warns, moving the chestpiece inside the back of your clothes and holding it against your bare skin.

The coldness of the metal makes you gasp and flinch, but as you attempt to move away from the stethoscope, Zayne gently squeezes your side, making you jump back into the cold object on your back. “Stay still and breathe deep,” Zayne instructs, his voice close to your ear.

You press your eyes shut and feel a faint heat reaching your cheeks.. Was he teasing you on purpose? Or just being painfully oblivious like he always was? As you try to follow his instructions and stay still, your body can’t help but tremble a bit - half because of the coldness on your back, half because Zayne’s touch against your side is making you stay on the edge.

“Is something wrong?” Zayne mutters softly, breaking the room’s silence, “your heart is beating… really fast.”

You let out a shaky sigh and a nervous smile take place on your lips. Of course I’m nervous, you dumb doctor, you think before looking at him.