#I’m sick of it but I don’t know what to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m0uchie · 2 days

Text

⟡ he doesn’t mind taking care of you even if you’re on your period

・pairing. wanderer x f!reader

・content. NSFW; period sex (sry); only oral tho (both f! and m!receiving); i gave up at the end

・a/n. don’t interact if it makes you uncomfortable. Btw, I was actually wrong and I’ll have another test in five days 😞and then I’ll finally be on vacation.

It had only been a while since your relationship with Wanderer began, and honestly it was very difficult to get to that level, you didn't want to ruin everything with your problems.

At this moment, you were wrapped in a soft blanket on your bed, cell phone in hand as you sent him a message, letting him know that you were canceling plans and apologizing for not being able to go out today.

"What happened?"

The answer came faster than you expected, and with a hint of concern that warmed your heart despite the pain you were feeling from your cramps.

“I’m sick.”

A part of you feels bad for lying about something so small, but you didn’t want him to think that you chose to stay at home instead of going out with him, or that you were lying just not to see him.

You turn off the device and place it on the nightstand next to the bed. Your eyes close and you fall sleep without even realizing it. You were feeling really tired lately.

“Baaaaang!” The doorbell rings, a sound resonating in the confines of your apartment and making you jump up quickly in surprise.

You get up, a little dazed and confused about who could it be until you open the door and come across a certain indigo haired boy holding pharmacy bags in his hands and staring at you with a poker face as if waiting for you to say something first, you’re not sure what though.

He walks straight past you and empties the bag on the table. “I didn’t know what you had and you weren’t answering the phone.” He simply justified the amount of medication he had brought, leaving you stunned for a second.

“You didn’t need to… I just needed some sleep.” You sigh, a bit embarrassed. He looks you up and down, silently taking the initiative to grab you by the arm and take you to your room to lay you down on the bed.

"Symptoms?"

“It’s nothing, really, I told you-“

“I didn’t spend my money for nothing.” You bite your bottom lip, staying quiet as Wanderer watches your expression closely, waiting for your explanation so he can know how to follow.

“Don’t get mad” You look at him hesitantly, a pleading tone in your voice, only talking when he gives you a minimal nod for you to continue. “Just- cramps… my period started yesterday.” He raises his eyebrow and you gulp down, heart aching with uncertainty until he speaks again. “And why would I be angry?”

You remain silent when faced with the question. You don't know exactly how to respond. He was always a little grumpy, but was he really the type to judge you and get angry for such a futile reason?

“Anyway, I brought some things, there must be something worth it.” He places the options on your bed for you to see, and you take out something for your current headache, gulping it down with the water you got from the bottle next to your bed (you leave it there so you can wake up at night and be able to hydrate yourself without having to get up).

He's more affectionate than usual, and sometimes you notice him taking his phone out of his pocket to do some research before preparing things to please you. A thermal bag wrapped in a cloth that he gently placed on your abdomen, delicious foods that he tried to make to please you, a second bottle of water so that you were always hydrated (even though you insisted that you didn't need it), and finally he ended up giving in when you asked him to lie down with you so you could watch a movie.

“Is there anything else you want?” He asks in the most velvety voice he can do, welcoming you in his arms and stroking your belly in circles underneath your blouse. His hand had a cozy warmth that gave you butterflies and made it difficult to sleep with the restlessness, but you were grateful because at least now it didn't hurt as much as before, and you could tell that the pain was almost being replaced by something else... since he was being so sweet to you.

“Hm, maybe…” You turn your head back to see his face, which tilts slightly to the side in doubt. “And what would it be?”

“I want to pay you back for taking such good care of me today.” Your hands waste no time in lowering his pants to his ankles, making his eyes widen in surprise.

He puts his hand on your face to stop you as soon as you get close. “I'm doing this because I want to.”

“Me too.” You respond and he sighs, his breath already shaky just imagining what you would do next. He hoped to have taken you to dinner with him at his house, a few kisses here and there, and maybe have you naked in his bed for the whole night, because honestly that was what he was thinking about most lately.

He wanted to undress you with his teeth and feel you around him as he sank into you, but with your text in the morning and the worry he felt from then on, he didn't have time to have these naughty thoughts again for the rest of the day, and now he was paying the price.

You smiled from corner to corner as you saw the tent forming beneath his underwear, lowering the fabric and letting his hard cock pop out of its restraints, cum oozing from the tip as you touched the head with your fingertip.

“Ughh…fuck.” You watch Wanderer's face contort with pleasure at the slide of your finger down his cock, and the way he tries to hold back even though he's throbbing with desire right now.

He places his hand over yours and forces your fingers to finally close around his member, guiding your movements, speed, and pressure. You however want to go much further than just letting him fuck your fist, stopping your palm at the base and kissing the sensitive skin as a way of teasing him.

“Mmn- put it in your mouth, come on…” he caresses the side of your face, a gesture that makes you lean into his touch. His hand goes to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your soft strands to subtly give you a boost, encouraging you to go further. You open your mouth to receive him and lick your lips to lubricate them before sucking him inside.

“You’re so good to me.” He whispers, feeling the warmth of your mouth wrapping around him, enough to drive him insane with pleasure. “So pretty”.

You move your head as much as you can, your hand massaging the rest that couldn't get into your mouth, and with the other you gently massaged his balls, a low moan escaping his mouth as you sucked so eagerly on his cock.

“Aah- please, keep sucking like that.” Feeling that he was already wet and slippery enough, he slowly thrust forward, pushing his cock even deeper into your waiting mouth. “Mmm… that feels incredible.”

You look up and see him smiling. His chest rising and falling rapidly and a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. He looked drunk, and your mouth was too good for him to handle, you milked his throbbing length for everything it was worth and he was on the edge.

You immediately noticed how his hands became soft as pudding and fell next to his body, grabbing the sheet as it was the closest thing, his knuckles turning white as you sucked him harder. He was entranced, eyes half-lidded with lust. He found himself getting harder in your mouth, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

“Ohh fuck it, I’m so close!” He fights back a moan, only the loud sound of his rapid breathing can be heard in the same rhythm as he rolled his hips, hitting your soft palate with the tip of his dick and making a mess all over your face and his own body.

You can’t help but gag, but as he’s almost cumming, you strive to take all of him, deep throating him until you feel him twitch in your mouth.

“Mmmn… gonna cum.” He mumbles, voice weak and high-pitched as a gooey liquid coats the inside of your mouth in white. You swallow what you can and take it out of your mouth to breathe, going back and licking the rest when you see the mess on his pelvis and the tantalizing sight that is watching him spent like this.

He whines quietly from time to time when he feels your tongue giving quick kitten licks to clean him up, patiently letting you finish, until it's so much to make him feel overstimulated.

He had already regained his energy when he flicked you on the forehead to make you stop (which worked, as your hands went to immediately soothe the red spot), then he gently turned you around while you were distracted with your complaints, laying you down against the pillows and reappearing with his face in between your open legs, a predatory look on his face.

"My turn now." He says confidently. Your eyes widen, closing your legs quickly.

"No! Absolutely not!"

“Ughh, why not?” He frowns.

“Because I’m bleeding. It should be obvious.” You arch an eyebrow, covering your lower half with the blanket so he wouldn't look for it anymore, but it clearly doesn't work as he proceeds to bring up the subject.

“I don't care about these things, I just need a taste. I promise I won’t make a mess.” His hands slowly pull the blanket down as he trails kisses on one of your thighs. You didn't expect to ever see him like this, but maybe it wasn't such a bad thing...

“Be quick.” As soon as you alert him, he smiles contentedly, running to get a towel and place it below your hips and removing your underwear with his eyes fixed on your intimacy. He longed for it.

It's a little embarrassing, but at the same time you felt absurd pain due to the cramps during your period, it was certain that more or less after the second day something changed. You became more needy, a want to relieve yourself, but you never gave in to your desires because you thought it was too absurd, and besides, it'd be a headache to clean up later.

You gasp in surprise when you feel his fingers brush against your folds, the tip of Wanderer's tongue touching your clit.

Now that you were feeling pleasure for the first time in this moment, you could see how much more intense the sensation was becoming, and how sensitive it had made you.

He starts licking softly and sucking the bud very carefully, your walls contract impatiently and he lowers his mouth to plunge his tongue into your waiting hole.

“Mmm… it’s so sweet.” He closes his eyes and comments, as if he were enjoying a dessert.

“S-stop that! I know it’s not.”

“No, you taste fucking amazing.” He grunted before getting back to work, opening his mouth wide and taking in what he could get as he pressed his tongue inside you and explored your pussy. Your juices smeared his face and ran down his chin, but he cleaned them off with his tongue when he stopped to breathe, and replaced his mouth with his fingers.

Now, you had your thighs around his head, writhing in pleasure as he massaged your clit with two fingers and sucked what came out of your tight opening.

“We need to do this more often.” He accelerates his pace, determined to push you over the edge. And when your squeeze on his head gets stronger, his hands move up to hold your thighs steady so he could continue to lavish attention on your pussy.

“Mmmm- yes yes! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.” You cry, desperate to ease the knot forming in your belly.

“Yeah? Cum for me, baby… cum in my mouth.” He murmurs against your pussy, sucking hard on the tiny bundle of nerves as you complain about how sensitive you are.

You let yourself go and feel your pussy pulsate against his tongue, he laps up every drop of your sweet release, savoring the taste of your orgasm on his taste buds. His growing erection throbbing painfully in his pants from seeing this side of you, but he ignored it, focusing instead on pleasing his girlfriend until the end.

After you finish, you can just take one last deep breath before closing your heavy eyelids, falling into a deep sleep. He slowly pulls away, lips glistening red from all your juices and his own saliva.

“I could do this every day.” He murmurs appreciatively, running a hand through his messy hair and admiring the work he's done between your legs.

With some wet wipes he cleans you up and lifts your panties back into place. “I hope that was enough for you to rest well.”

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#+18 content #divider by cafekitsune #wanderer smut #scaramouche smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut

170 notes · View notes

finelinefae · 1 day

Note

Could we please get a check in with the aviator? I love them like no other i swear

synopsis: y/n finds out she's pregnant with Aviator!Hs baby.

wordcount: 2.6 k

a/n: this isn't really a check-in more so something that happens a year into their relationship because i think about this moment a lot and i needed to write about it !!!!

also first one shot for the aviator whoop!!

. . .

It was the middle of the night.

Y/N had been up since dinner, laying beside the toilet bowl so she could vomit the contents of her stomach every ten minutes. She’d stuck the thermometer under her armpit to check if she had a fever, only to find it at a completely normal temperature.

She was tired and frustrated and her head hurt from throwing up so much. She hadn’t had a wink of sleep and she still had to get to work in the morning.

The door swung open and Y/N lifted her tired eyes to find Nancy looking down at her, “You’ve been throwing up since dinner,” She held out a glass of cold water and Y/N gladly took it.

“Sorry,” Y/N groaned, after taking a sip, “I’ve tried taking medicine but nothing seems to be working.”

Nancy sighed, “You don’t need to apologise, do you want me to call Harry?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “He’s been working all week, he’s probably exhausted.”

“Okay well you can’t just sit by the toilet all night, do you want me to warm you up some ginger ale?” Y/N sighed, considering her offer before pushing herself up from the floor and following Nancy to the kitchen.

She sat at the table, clutching her stomach and ignoring the nausea she felt. Nancy took out some ginger ale and began to heat in a saucepan over the stovetop. “I just don’t understand how I can feel like this but not even have a fever,” Y/N huffed.

Nancy shrugged, “Are you due? Normally I feel pretty sick a week or so before my period starts,”

A dip forms between Y/N’s brows, “I don’t think so, I’m pretty sure-” Y/N paused, thinking back to the last time she had had her period. She had been waiting for it to arrive this week but one glance at the calendar on the kitchen refrigerator revealed that it was already a week late.

Panic surged through her, “Nancy,” She gasped, looking up at her roommate and friend, “It’s late.”

Nancy’s eyes widened, “Are you sure?”

Y/N’s mind was racing to try and piece together the days but she knew that she was right and her period was over a week late.

Y/N didn’t have to say anything for Nancy to understand what she was thinking. “W-what am I going to do?” Y/N panicked as dread ensued her, “I-I can’t have a baby, I can’t.”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Nancy crouched down on the floor in front of her and took her hands, “It’s going to be okay. Tomorrow morning we’ll go down to the clinic and ask them to take a test to make sure.”

Y/N shook her head, “Not the morning, Harry will know and he’ll-” She covered her mouth, “Oh God, Harry, what if he hates me?”

Nancy scoffed, “How could he possibly hate you? I’ve never seen someone as in love with somebody as he is with you,”

“But Nancy, a baby. It’s too soon and he’s still got Elise and-” Y/N’s mind was whirring with thoughts as she thought about how her life was about to change if she really was pregnant. Elise was only four and their relationship was still relatively new - they’d only celebrated their year anniversary a month ago which was more than likely to be the reason that got her in this predicament.

“Y/N, calm down,” Nancy soothed her, “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll deal with these things after we find out whether you really are pregnant or not. For now, we’ll go to bed and think about it in the morning, okay?”

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to digest the words she was hearing. Nancy was right, she needed to not worry until she had confirmation from the nurse that she really was pregnant. She tried to pause her worries until the morning but not a wink of sleep occurred when her mind was whirring with thoughts about how Harry would react to the possibility of it all.

. . .

Y/N felt sick to her stomach as she walked to the hangar where she knew Harry would be working. She’d been so many times now that she knew exactly where to go, following the path through the doors and round the back.

“Evening Y/N,” One of the boys said as she walked past, tipping his hat. Y/N forced a smile onto her face in reply.

She walked through the back doors and found Harry outside smoking a cigarette on his own, the sun setting behind him. Unlike how she usually felt whenever she was around him, Y/N began to panic wondering whether she should turn back now before she told him something that would change both their lives forever.

Harry’s head lifted and a smile carved onto his face when his eyes landed on her. He threw his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it with his foot, “Hi birdy,” He walked over and embraced her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Y/N knew Harry had sensed something was wrong from how stiff she felt in his embrace. He pulled back but his arms stayed looped around her, “Wha’s wrong?” He frowned, “Y’okay?” He cupped her face in his hands and looked her in the eye.

Y/N pulled away, “I’m okay,” She lied and Harry immediately knew something was wrong when she took a step away from him. Usually, whenever they were together there was barely any space between them.

“Hey, when do y’ lie to me?” He forced a smile, a pit of dread forming in his stomach.

Y/N’s eyes glistened, she sniffled and scrunched her nose to try and prevent herself from crying. “I just missed you is all,”

“Birdy,” A dip formed between his brows, “M always right here y’ know that. Did something happen at work today?”

Y/N shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself, “No,” She replied, “I-I need to tell you something.”

This time Harry really did begin to panic. He thought back to the past few months and wondered if he had done anything wrong to upset her in that time but every day had been as blissfully sweet as the last. He was so in love with Y/N and that love continued to grow every passing day. She was the first person he woke up to in the morning and the last person he saw at night - every day it was Y/N, the love of his life.

So he couldn’t understand what had currently gotten her so distant with him or why she was being so vague and secretive whenever she was with Nancy, “Are you…Are you breaking up with me?” Harry voiced his biggest concern out loud.

Y/N almost gasped, reaching for his hand and holding it to her chest, “God Harry, no. No, of course not.”

He relaxed slightly but still wondered what was going on in her head that was so difficult to tell, “Wha’s wrong then baby?”

Y/N released a shuddery breath, looking away from him and down at the hand she was currently holding. She twisted the ring on his pinkie finger, one lone tear rolling down her cheek that she quickly brushed away. “Harry, I'm pregnant.” She whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Her heart thudded against her chest when she felt his hand stiffen. She could barely look up at him as she waited for him to say something.

Two rough hands cupped her cheeks and lifted her head up. Her eyes met his, lips parting to see tears rolling down his cheeks and the biggest smile she had ever seen stretched across his face, “We’re havin’ a baby?” He whispered in disbelief.

Y/N nodded slowly, “I found out this afternoon.”

A laugh escaped his lips, “Holy shit,” He let go of her and ran his fingers through his hair before covering his face with his hands and smiling beneath them.

Y/N stood waiting, still a little tense until he took one step towards her and picked her up in his arms, her dress twirling as he spun them round, “Holy shit we’re having a baby.”

A wave of relief washed over her, Y/N finally mirrored the smile on his face when she saw the excitement on his face.

He set her back on her feet, “You’re not mad?” Y/N asked.

“Why would I be mad? This is my dream, I’ve always wanted to be a dad.” Harry was unable to rid himself of the smile on his face.

“I know but we’ve been together a year and-”

Harry silenced her by smashing their lips together in a messy kiss, “I love you bigger than the whole sky Birdy, there is not a single person in this entire world I would rather have as the mother of my child.”

Y/N’s eyes watered and tears began to fall as she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands fell to her tummy, “I can’t believe there’s a tiny human in there,” Harry chuckled in disbelief.

“I love you so much Harry,” Y/N murmured, wondering why she was ever nervous to tell him in the first place.

. . .

Safe to say, Harry had become somewhat even more obsessed with Y/N than he had ever been before.

“Tha’s my baby mama!” He whistled, wearing his grease-covered overalls as he slid off the wing of the plane and ran towards Y/N who was only a month pregnant.

Y/N’s cheeks heated, eyes darting around, “Shh, what if someone hears you?”

They had yet to tell any of their friends or Harry’s brothers that Y/N was pregnant. Nancy had been sworn to secrecy despite her boyfriend constantly pestering her over telling him what they were always whispering about whenever Y/N refused a drink at a party. Harry struggled to keep such a big secret from his siblings since he had always told them everything, but Y/N wanted to make sure everything was okay before they let the world know another baby would be entering their little family.

“There’s no one around, don’t worry.” Harry smiled, a dimple carving into his cheek.

She had the tiniest bump, barely even noticeable unless she was bloated, but he was obsessed all the same. His hands reached for her sides, feeling the small curve of her tiny bump as he held her. “Hi Harry,” Y/N grinned, “Thought we could walk to the clinic together.”

Today they would be having their first appointment together with their assigned midwife. Harry had been close to a kid at Christmas as he counted down the days until he got to hear his baby’s heartbeat. “Yeah, I’ll pack my stuff away and we’ll head on down,” He nodded but stopped to kiss her quickly, “Missed y’,” He murmured.

Y/N laughed, “You saw me three hours ago,”

“Much too long,” He countered, slipping away from her and going to pack his things away.

He returned in a fresh white t-shirt and jeans, reaching for her hand and threading their fingers together as they walked down to the clinic.

Harry could feel Y/N’s nerves bouncing off of her as they sat in the waiting room of the small office waiting for their midwife to call them in. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, tapped her foot against the floor and chewed on her bottom lip. Every now and then her eyes would glance to the door like she was desperate to get out.

He reached for her hand, holding it in his lap and playing with the small ring on her index finger. His thumb traced the mole in the middle of her wrist, her pulse fluttering beneath it. “Y’ okay?” He murmured.

“Jus’ nervous,” She admitted, “I don’t like doctor’s offices all that much.”

“Y’ not having second thoughts about the baby are you? Because if you were there are things we can do and talk about. I-I’d never force y’ to have a baby, y’know that right Birdy?” Harry said.

Y/N’s eyes softened, she cupped his cheek in her hand, “I want this baby with you more than I want anything ever.”

Harry smiled, “Y’ mean that?” He needed that reassurance from her more than anything.

“I mean it,” She kissed him quickly.

The door clicked open and in walked the midwife, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N took a deep breath, squeezing Harry’s hand as they stood up. The midwife, an older woman with kind eyes, gestured for them to follow her into a small room. There was a simple examination bed and a tall metal stand with a strange, trumpet-like device hanging from it.

“This is a fetal stethoscope,” the midwife explained, picking up the device. “It’s how we’ll listen to your baby’s heartbeat.”

Y/N climbed onto the bed, her heart racing. Harry stood by her side, never letting go of her hand. The midwife placed the wide end of the stethoscope on Y/N’s abdomen and pressed her ear to the other end.

The room was silent as the midwife concentrated. Then, her face lit up with a smile. “There it is,” she said, turning to the expectant parents. “Your baby’s heartbeat. Would you like to listen?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he nodded eagerly. The midwife handed him the earpiece, and he leaned down, his expression changing from nervousness to awe as he heard the rapid, steady thump of their baby’s heart.

“Our baby,” Harry whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N could feel her eyes welling up as she watched him. Her hand reached out to thread through his curls as he pressed his ear to the earpiece once more and listened for the faint sound of a beating heart they had created, “Can y’ hear it?” Y/N smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Tha’s our baby,” He repeated like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Tha’s right, H.” Y/N said softly.

Harry reached for her bump, placing both of his big, heavy palms on it. He lowered his head and pressed a small kiss to the spot above her belly button, “Hello baby,” He murmured, “How can I love you this much when all I can hear is y’ heart?”

Y/N smiled, letting him have his moment, “Promise I’ll take such good care of it,” He continued to speak soft and slow, “Both yours and mamas,”

Harry reached for Y/N’s hand and held it in his own, his other palm resting right over her bump. He felt Y/N give his hand a gentle squeeze and wondered if she could hear just how fast his heart beat for her even without the earpiece.

“Don’t cry,” Harry smiled, reaching to wipe away Y/N’s tears.

“I’m just happy,” Y/N sniffled, “You’re going to be such a good dad, Harry, I hope you know that.”

The words settled something in him. All his nerves seemed to melt away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and anticipation for the new life they were about to bring into the world together.

A family of his own.

“I love you birdy,” He leans down and speaks to the bump once more, “and I love you too, baby birdy.” Y/N laughed and watched as Harry continued in conversation with their baby, hearing nothing but a gentle heartbeat in reply to his voice.

192 notes · View notes

majeoeje · 1 day

Text

Beating heart

Laios x reader

Just please don’t ever go away

“Wake up, hey! Wake up!” Said Laios

You wondered why he was making such a ruckus before you looked down and noticed the ungodly amount of blood that came out from an open wound on your stomach. Out of instinct, you hand reached down to press on the wound to try and stop the bleeding, hissing in pain at the contact

That’s right! you were fighting a monster beforehand… what was it? It was shaped like a horse but it was definitely not a unicorn, let alone a kelpie.. now that you think about it, it looks more like a donkey with the elongated ears..

Before you could recall your memory, your attention finally drifts to Laios. There was a peculiar expression on his face, well it wasn’t something comical like how he usually has, it’s quite different. The slight widening of his eyes, the schrunched up brows and the slightly agape mouth wasn’t something you had ever seen Laios expressed in all your years of friendship.

“You’ll be alright.. just stay still.. Im sure Marcille is on her way!..” he muttered “you’ll be alright..”. He pushed aside some of the hair that sticked to your forehead, perhaps an effort to soothe your pain. Not knowing how long Marcille would take to get here after being separated from you and Laios.

Laios held your bloodied hand, squeezing it tightly that he should while your other stayed still on your wound.

By the tone of his voice you would’ve thought he was saying all these things to assure himself. Was Laios perhaps… Worried?..

You weren’t sure. Sometimes the dim litted candle light can be deceiving, you thought, especially in a dark cave like this. Though you know you needed to do something hearing his endless mutterings

“Calm down, Laios” you said, your voice rendering weaker than you assumed. As you tried to sit more comfortably on the rough surface of the cave

“Why don’t you try that healing spell that Marcille taught you?”

“I’m not sure.. i had healed a scratch sure, but this is something entirely different…”

You opened your mouth to say something encouraging, but the blood that you coughed up instead surely wasn’t helping the situation.

“Gah-Ahh!!” He yelled, you found it ironic how he was the one screaming.

“I’m fine dude you..can do it! No pressure..” You said, weakly pointing a thumbs up.

Your ass is far from fine. And Laios wasn’t stupid enough to not notice.

Despite the growing worry that seeps into his mind. But he was determined to help as always, knowing him.

“Okay.. i’ll try”

You let go of your wound, it seems that the blood that seeps out has slowed down faster than you think. With that thought in mind, you guided both his hand to your stomach, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“Alright, just recite the incantation. I can take it!” You said enthusiastically before gritting your teeth, prepared for a god awful amount of pain that comes in healing magic.

He nodded before he starts reciting the incantation that Marcille had worked so hard in teaching.

And painful the spell it was, as you screamed understandably loudly feeling as if you got stabbed once again with no adrenaline helping you in slightly easing your pain. You held onto Laios’ armor the whole time, not wanting to hurt him while he was trying so hard to focus.

After a while, the pain eventually subsided, being replaced by an unbearable itch.

“I need to sit down” said Laios, feeling a dreadful Mana sickness coming his way

You instinctively pat the spot next to you, an odd habit that didn’t take long for your party members to notice. You guessed you just liked to be seated next to him. Well Laios never complained, even now as he obediently sat himself next to you.

“You did well, Good job Laios” it was evident from the closed wound on your stomach that Laios was starting to get the hang out of magic, it would be a lie to say it didn’t fill you with a sort of pride.

Not long after that sense of pride washed away though was when you noticed how awfully quiet Laios had been. You were worried yes but the cling that he has on your arm was what convinced you he was alright. At least he will be once you gave him a moment. Mana sickness surely is a pain, you thought feeling him shift in his seat to lean against you, muttering something incoherent.

“I’m hearing footsteps coming, i’m sure it’s Marcille, we’ll be alright Laios” you said, before Marcille appeared as if on cue

“There they are!!” She yelled, senshi and chilchuck immediately rushed to help you, while Izutsumi scanned the area for monsters.

You were so relieved they had found you and Laios that you didn’t mind the earnest scolding Chil and Marcille was already spouting to you. Maybe it didn’t help the fact that you smiled through the whole thing, well you were just happy to see them!

The rest of the night went smoothly though, your party had found a spot to rest for the night, and a running water. Aside from that, Laios was recovering on his sleeping bag, trying to endure his headache. You didn’t miss the amount of increased staring on his part though, making you wonder what was going on inside his mind.

But you try not to pay attention, as you focused intently on your night watch.

Hours passed, your eyelids were getting heavier to stay open

“You can go to sleep, i can take over from here” said Laios, you could see him a little clearly now that his features were illuminated with Marcille’s light spell

“Laios, it’s not your turn yet” you yawned, noting how you still have an hour left to your night watch

You look around seeing your sound asleep party, the growing love for them that you gradually succumb to was undeniable.

“I know but you just got healed, you should rest more”

“Well YOU healed me and i know there’s still some remnants of mana sickness in your head” you playfully argued

“Just let me do this for you.”

he said, you were taken aback with how desperate he sounded, it was rather emotional. It was by then that you realized this wasn’t just about the night watch

“Laios..”

He looked away.

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

You knew something was up, the growing silence that ensued was nothing but a sure evidence of his troubles.

“Tell me what’s wrong, i’m always here for you” you assured, running circles along his back.

He finally turned to face you. You never knew the golden hues of his eyes could glow in such a solemn way until now.

“What if one day, you’re not?”

The question seem to weigh less to you than it did to Laios.

“Huh?” You were confused, was it because of your accident just a moment ago? He knew that wounds and death didn’t have a severe of an impact as it did in the surface, yet the calm collected Laios could not be more worried in seeing you like that.

“What if by some chance i couldn’t heal you… or even worse you die-“ the sudden pick up of his breath was making you worry. It wasn’t long before he started to hyperventilate.

“Laios-“

“I can’t perform a resurrection spell!… i can barely heal your wound…”

“Laios!!” You whispered yell as you smacked him across the face, his hurt expression could be read clearly as ‘what was that for?’ Despite your burning desire to yell at him, you didn’t want to wake the other up with Laios sharing the intention

“You need to calm down..” you held him by the shoulder “i’m alright and i will continue to be”

He looked at you

His heart was filled with so much doubt. It’s not like he was unsure in your strength, rather… it was doubt that he could even bear that sight once more. The thought of you in so much pain was sure to haunt his soul than you would ever know.

You took his hand in yours, placing it on where your heart would be. He could feel the vivid heartbeat on the palm of his hand, the continuous beat of the pumping organ was steady, paired with the slow rise and fall of your ribcage, a concrete evidence that you were here, alive, and breathing.

“I’m here”

You didn’t know if it would work but the steady drums of your heart slowly brought him a peace of mind.

His breath eventually went back to normal, which brings you a sigh of relief

He lets go, opting to shift himself closer to place his ear on your chest, he wanted to hear it clearly, closer.. closer to you. The sudden contact startled you as your arm fell to a stiff not knowing where to put it.

“Your heart rate is picking up” he stated as a matter of factly. As of this moment, you didn’t curse his density to took notice in your behaviour.

“Yeah” you coughed rather abruptly, trying to calm the flush on your cheeks. You were just relieved your party wasn’t awake see you so embarassed. You gulped down your hesitance though, opting to play with Laios’ soft locks as an attempt to distract your mind. You reminiced on the times where he would pay no mind of his appearance thinking it was a hassle, those were definitely not a good phase he went through, but sometimes you did miss his long outgrown hair after he freshly washed it, you smiled remembering how he lets you braid small parts of his blonde hair as a fragrant scent of mint shampoo would emit from his scalp.

Though you do like his more kept style now, Falin worked hard to learn how to trim his hair after all.

Your train of thoughts soon was cut short when you felt the hold Laios had on you tightening.

“Don’t go. Please don’t ever go away.” He said, repeating his swallowed words from earlier, his voice had found its way to be louder now that he’s calmed down, different from back when he healed you.

You felt guilty to say that your heart swelled in content hearing that. There’s something so incredibly precious to have someone care for you to so much extent that they would feel this way, you were lucky to know you wouldn’t forget that feeling as long as you were with Laios.

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

You hugged him,feeling the tightening grip that he has on your blouse, he groaned slightly feeling the warm embrace, though you kept it short, not wanting to suffocate him.

You and Laios weren’t always together . But even so, the unseperated bond that you had over the years was something that he treasure above all else.

Though sometimes he would dwell on the different path you could’ve chosen. What would happen if you were to accept your betrothal, and get married in that small village? What would happen if his father never kicked him out the house? What would happen if he stayed in the military? What if you never went into that ship alongside him?

Sometimes he could still pick up the smell of ocean in his nose when he recall that fated day. He never thought he could miss someone as much as he did you. A fated reunion, as Falin would say, before he would always brush it off and say it was just some coincidence.

He has only a vague idea of what the future will held once Falin is saved, but truly, he knew he couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t with you.

“What type of monster that doesn’t have a heart? Can you tell me about that?” You said, drawing incoherent shapes on his back with your fingers

Well, that surely he could do.

#gender neutral reader #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #laios x reader #laios x you #dunmeshi laios #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon laios #laios my beloved #marcille donato #chilchuk tims #chilchuck #marcille dungeon meshi #falin touden #laios touden x reader

219 notes · View notes

luveline · 3 hours

Note

reader getting really stressed out about being pregnant for the first time and so hotch just makes her sit down and he totally pampers her for the day?? idk u asked for hotch reqs and this is just the first thing i squeezed out my brain

thank you for requesting <3 fem, 1.2k

There are many things that come with being pregnant. Joy, for sure, but hardship and doubt overwhelmingly. You’re always treating an ailment you didn’t expect to have or worrying that things won’t be ready —that you won’t be ready.

You’ve developed a bad habit. You can’t stop picking at your hands. Your skin is drier since you’ve been pregnant and the further along you get, the worse it becomes. You scratch at a dry patch between your fingers, wince when it hurts, but continue until there’s no dry skin left to pick, just raw soreness. It’s the first time you’ve made yourself bleed.

“Are you doing it again?” Aaron asks from the hallway.

You drop your guilty hands down and turn away from his approach. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, aren’t you?” he asks, a smile in his voice. His hand is warm where he takes your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Show me.”

“No.”

“Show me,” he says again, not asking.

You were supposed to be doing the dishes, but you’d noticed your baby bump was getting in the way, which was oddly beautiful for a few seconds, but was quickly just another imposition in a day full of small annoyances. It is never going to get any easier, your stomach will continue to grow as the baby grows and your body accommodates her, and when you do have her you’ll have to find a way to wash dishes with her held to your chest or on your hip. And it’s lovely, it’s what you signed up for, you can’t wait to be a mom and love your baby, but that’s a big change, too.

Now you're tail-spin panicking about your life and your hands take the brunt of it. Aaron can’t stop you, but he always tries.

“I can’t understand why you do this,” he says, parting your fingers gently to assess the damage, “it must hurt. Can you stop?”

He asks with a mixture of humour and fondness, his eyes on yours and a small smile playing on his lips to encourage a better mood. You don’t have much to give, but you smile back.

“I know I shouldn’t pick it,” you say.

“But it’s hard to stop,” he surmises, bringing your hand to his mouth for a soft peck against the back of it, far from your broken skin.

“I’m just worried.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, pulling at your hand as he takes your hip in his other and drags you into him. Your bump immediately blocks the way, but bodies are soft, and he keeps on pulling until you’re squished together.

He smells like something particular. Not cologne or deodorant, not soap or laundry detergent. You can’t put your finger on the scent, your cheek pressed against his shoulder and your nose to his neck, thinking. It’s a sugary smell, but it’s cloying, too, like you’d touch the smell and have a residue on your fingers.

“I changed the air freshener in the bathroom,” he says quietly, his face turned down to yours.

You don’t bother asking how he knows what you’d been thinking. He’s your mind reader.

“It was making me feel sick,” you say unnecessarily.

“I know. Let’s go sit down, my girl.”

My girl, you think, not sure if you should roll your eyes or hug him tighter.

You let him lead you from the kitchen to the living room, where he helps you down onto the nice couch, much too nice for babies. You can’t imagine it will stay very clean, but perhaps you’re being cynical. Still, you lean back against the cushions and rub your cheek into clean leather.

Aaron takes the faux rabbit fur throw from the armrest and shakes it out over you with care, tucking it under your legs, and kissing your cheek as he secures it behind your back. All tucked in, he holds your hands together atop the blanket to encourage you to feel the texture. It’s a good distraction from picking at your hands, which he knows. Aaron knows everything.

“What do we need?” he asks. “A drink? Dinner’s easy tonight, I’ve promised Jack we’ll make lasagne. Does that sound good to you?”

You’re honestly not sure. You're quiet for a moment too long. “Sorry,” you frown.

“I can make you anything you want. It doesn’t bother me.”

“I feel a little like I’m acting over the top about this.” You’re pregnant. Millions and millions and millions of women have been pregnant.

“About what?” he asks, sitting beside you on the couch, your blanket untucking under his legs. “Being tired? You can’t decide.”

“About everything, I guess.”

“Well, when you figure out what it is that’s making this,” —he puts a hand to your belly— “over the top, you can let me know.”

You lift your chin. He kisses you soundly.

It’s nice to be loved like this.

“What’s up with my baby?” he asks, giving your stomach a soft rub. “Is she moving today?”

You lean back and he understands that to mean he should feel lower, where you can feel the baby’s weight more clearly. “Not much moving. She gave me a good kick earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“I think so.”

He feels along the bottom of your stomach politely. It’s a little funny, the baby wouldn’t exist without him being rather less polite, but it’s also lovely. You can trust him to be a great father because he’s already an adoring husband. If he treats you with a never ending supply of tender caring and soft touches, it’s easy to picture how he’ll treat your girl. You’ve never once doubted him, and he’s never hurt you. You don’t think he could.

“There?” he asks, putting his hand to the right side of the bump.

You can’t be totally certain, but you’re sure he’s right. “Right there, handsome.”

Things are far less stressful to think of when he’s near. He reminds you in something as small as a thumb to your belly that everything will be taken care of. You’re not half as alone as you feel, and neither is your baby. Aaron can do the dishes while you’re unable. He’d do them even if your only reason was that you didn’t want to.

“Hello,” he says, charmed, eyes glowing with excitement as you encourage your shirt up over your stomach for a better view. Aaron places his hand to your naked skin, palm hot. “I love you.”

He has to tap you under the chin for you to know who it is he’s talking to. “I love you, too,” you say quickly.

He smiles, before his attention falls completely to your stomach once again. “And you, sweetheart. I love you. Can you say hello?”

He has to talk for a while, but eventually your baby moves.

Your shoulders relax. You close your eyes and let him murmur to you both, peaceful for a desperately needed half an hour.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

160 notes · View notes

mourninglamby · 2 days

Note

god it's so nice to see your takes on things genuinely

As flawed as it is, i think dsmp is still an incredibly interesting and unique narrative about abuse, how it affects different people, and how it's spread and normalised. It's not a satisfying or clean narrative by any means, but i still think that it approaches its themes in a way that's fundamentally different than any other form of media and it's still worth it to spend time analysing it.

i don't know if the fact that actual abusers worked on it has anything to do with it (i would hazard a guess and say yes, but i digress), but oftentimes it genuinely feels like a look into the internal machinations of abusers, and i think it can make people more aware of the warning signs. and good analysis is the #1 way to actually bring that lesson to the surface, since the story wasn't written with that moral in mind but just stumbled onto it.

so, thank you for giving this smpand its story the time of day, i think that it's genuinely something that's worth doing and it's nice to see someone put themselves out there like you do (since i know how a lot of fans are), have a lovely day!

Ugh this is all worded soooo perfectly. This story is truly the most unique look into abuse and it never even used to word …….forgive the long tangent I’m about to go on but it’s important!! I know there is a bigger conversation to be had, particularly about the meta and the way Tommy played ctommy/how he interacted with the adults on the server, which greatly influenced the delivery of the abuse plotline. Tom Simons played Ctommy epistemologically, so the characters’ knowledge, for the most part, extended only as far as his did. Which created a devastating story ! Especially concerning cwilbur!

I wanna actually talk abt how the word “abuse” was never used, despite it permeating thru the entire narrative. This was on purpose of course. Tommy The Guy was 16. His outlook on abuse and the nuances of it likely weren’t developed enough for him to ever really understand what was happening to his character until it was too late. And in that vein, Clayton Ray Huff and william gold also didn’t think harder about the harm they caused not just Tommy, but everyone else they hurt irl. And I’ll never forget Tommy’s cry for justice before that HORRIBLE ending, saying in his twitch chat that “cdream drove ctommy to suicide!” Or when he told his chat they were Also being manipulated by c!dream, after his first prison visit. It’s so complicated and so difficult to talk about, but it’s absolutely necessary when the story itself never really…. Understood the topic it was portraying. The level of abuse apologism and victim blaming present in this fanbase had such an awful effect on me and my friends, and again, that was intentional. Send the audience they curated to silence any conversation that might allude to blaring red flags. BUT! I’m in a better headspace to discuss the intricacies of its harm and how it failed, and simultaneously investigate how it managed to be so Real.

As for the story being written by a handful of actual abusers … well……. It’s no wonder it ended like a punch to the throat. Absolute horse shit spun from the mouths of men who know what they are, and want to keep being that way. Wilbur thinks he can just Leave for a while and everything would go back to normal. Dream thought he could Start Over so that no ACTUAL consequences would ever reach him. They learn NOTHING because they don’t believe they have to. It’s sick. But it’s always necessary to remember when analyzing the train wreck of an ending both men concocted. Dsmp failed as damage control because they played abusers in that story too. And abusers don’t think they’ve done anything wrong. Completely incapable of introspection.

Okay I’ve talked enough lmfao but . I’m rly thankful I get to receive anons like this … I do not think I’m the smartest person by a long shot and seeing other people articulate these thoughts and introduce me to new things has been very healing and validating. It’s much better than the ppl who would flat out deny it or harass me lol.

#because if in the story #the abuse was actually CONDEMNED #someone (we know) might start questioning stuff in Real Life #that’s why these stories get told at all #and that’s why I say dsmp is an abusers long con power fantasy #lalalalala #dsmp

186 notes · View notes

epiphainie · 1 day

Text

I see and love all your tearjerker proposal ideas, but we don’t talk enough about the absolute hilarity that would ensue with an Evan Buckley Proposal™️. Like I’m imagining him being soooo excited about it in the most Buck way possible. He has this ten page speech about how much he loves Tommy and how they’re soulmates and the universe pulled a sick one by putting them on each other’s paths and he’s planning to tell Tommy all that before he pops the question and he’s preparing this big romantic night for it with the most romantic flowers and the most romantic music and the most romantic ring at the most romantic place in all of Los Angeles and he’s roped in everyone at the station to help him, threatened Chim with cold-blooded murder if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut, made Eddie reassure him about every step of his plans not twice but thrice, talked to Bobby with blushing cheeks and fidgeting hands till Bobby gave him his absolute blessing. Hen, Maddie, Athena, they’re all in on it. He’s Ready to do it The Right Way.

Then at like 2pm on a lazy Tuesday afternoon his poor brain that has been overworking on this for weeks gets overloaded and crashes. And suddenly he Needs To Ask Tommy Right Now. Like, just like that the entire plan is overridden, and he doesn’t even process what he’s doing before he sends Eddie a text that just says, “I think I will do it now” and ditches his phone and marches to the garage where Tommy has been working on his truck all day.

The next thing we know Eddie is opening his door to a Buck who has his arms wrapped around himself and his big blue eyes are filled with tears. He looks like a puppy kicked a thousand ways and before Eddie can even open his mouth he cries out, “He said no,” and drops face first on Eddie’s couch. Eddie is like ???? but also “Well, I can’t deal with this shit on my own,” so he calls Hen and Chimney and ten minutes later Buck is sitting on the couch being interrogated by his best friends.

They’re all obviously confused.

Hen, disbelieving, asks, “He said no?”

Buck makes the most pathetic pitiful sound known to the human kind and nods.

Chimney, not really helpful, murmurs, “Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” to himself because he knows how much Tommy loves Buck and would say yes to marrying him months, hell, years ago.

Hen, trying to make sense of it all asks, “What did he exactly say?” because Chim is right, it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

Buck, still looking like a wet cat, goes, “He said it wasn’t the right thing for us.” His voice hitches and he moans, “He said it wasn’t s-smart.”

Hen and Chim shoot a look at each other. Eddie at this point is getting angry because what the fuck? Which is exactly what he says and Hen, the only one trying to be actually somewhat helpful, shakes her head like, “No, Eddie,” and then to Buck with what she hopes is a reassuring voice says, “Maybe he just doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage?”

Buck looks even more miserable at that and buries his face in his hands as he bemoans “Noooo,” and shakes his head like he’s grieving. “We t-talked about it before. At the beginning of our relationship, we both agreed we’d do that if it felt like the right time.” He slumps back on the couch like his life has just ended. “I t-thought it was the right time.”

Eddie, totally pissed off now because how are you gonna be with a guy for years, move in together, buy a house together, be committed to each other fully, and then say no to his marriage proposal, goes, “Oh fuck him. Do you want me to beat some sense into him?” Because damn, this is his best friend who looks absolutely crushed and Eddie will kick Tommy’s ass, fuck the fact that he’s really good at Muay Thai, he hasn’t seen Eddie’s wrath before.

Hen, still the sound of logic and seeing how Buck gets sadder each passing moment, stops him again. “We’re not beating anyone up.” Then says, “Buck, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Tommy loves you.” Because yeah he does in the most sickening teen boy with a puppy crush way, so none of this makes sense and Hen’s brain is whirring but she’s not sure what’s happening yet. “And you love Tommy.”

Buck, hands covering his face again moans into his palms, “I do.” Then his hands drop, and his face shot with panic and fear he goes, “Wait?! Does this mean we broke up?”

A pissed-off, disbelieving noise leaves Eddie; Chim shoots another look towards Hen’s way; Hen just gives an awkward unsure smile. “No. No.” She tries to reassure him. “Of course not.”

“I mean,” Chim says with a shrug. “I don’t see how a relationship comes back from that, you know?”

This gets Buck start crying again.

“You’re. Not. Being. Helpful. Chim.” Hen mutters.

Eddie jumps up, “Oh, I’m beating him up for you.”

Buck’s wails get louder.

It all devolves from there with Buck going between hollering and sniffling and Eddie dead-set on confronting Tommy and Hen trying to do damage control with “We’re just gonna talk to him,” and Chim continuing to be absolutely unhelpful with his comments about how Tommy is great, and so cool, and perfect, and he’d make a great brother-in-law, and this doesn’t make any sense.

So, the four of them somehow find themselves marching towards the Buckley-Kinard house with Eddie at the helm and Buck looking like a pathetic mess between them. They’ve barely entered the front yard when Tommy bursts out the front door with his phone in his hand and he goes, “Where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for hou—”

“I trusted you, man!” Eddie shouts, voice echoing through the street.

Tommy stops in his tracks. He takes in the sight of his friends who are all shooting him deadly (and confused) glares. Then he looks at his boyfriend and finds him avoiding his eyes, keeping his gaze at his feet like all the happiness has been sucked out of his entire universe. Brows furrowing in confusion, Tommy takes a step towards him. “Evan.” He tilts his chin up and sucks in a breath when he sees the tear tracks on Buck’s face. His own face crumbles, now in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Eddie lets out a mirthless laugh. “Pretending you don’t know, huh?”

Tommy looks at him, at Chim, at Hen. “Don’t know what?”

“Oh, you’re a bigger asshole than I thought, Kinard.” Eddie spits in his face, his head shaking. “Acting like nothing’s wrong after saying no to a guy’s proposal so cruelly.”

Tommy freezes. His gaze snaps to Buck with a confused, “What?” but Buck is avoiding his eyes again. “What proposal?” Tommy asks. “Evan didn’t propose to me.”

At this point all tired and beaten Buck sighs, “It’s okay, Tommy.”

“No. No—” Tommy shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

Buck shrugs. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Evan.”

Sighing again, Buck finally looks up. “Look, I get it. We can talk about it later.” He chews at his lip. “Right?” Because he’s still not sure if they’re broken up or not and god he really wishes they’re not because marriage is a dumb institution rooted in patriarchy to maintain and reinforce traditional gender roles and they didn’t even let two men marry till a decade ago, so it’s not like they need anyone’s acknowledgement and all he needs is Tommy, but also he had the absolute perfect ring picked out and he doesn’t know if he can get a refund on it, and calling Tommy his husband would be so fucking nice, and maybe he has been dreaming about that for the past however many years.

At this point, he’s tearing up again, so Tommy cups his face and brushes away some of the tears, before saying with the biggest gentlest eyes, “We can talk about anything you want. But… Baby, what proposal?”

Buck sniffles. “Earlier. W-when I asked you in the garage.”

Tommy frowns harder because that doesn’t make any sense. “You didn’t ask me to marry you, Evan.”

“Yes, I did, Tommy,” Buck huffs.

“No, you asked me if I wanted to take a vacation.”

“I think I know what I asked.”

“You said you wanted to go on a trip!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Okay, you didn’t say trip! You said, you said something like if I wanted to take a new journey with you! Embark on adventure or something. You said you wanted a travel companion for a voyage!”

“Lifelong voyage.” Buck murmurs, lips pursing and arms crossing together. “For our grand adventure together.”

No one says anything for a minute as Buck avoids their eyes and scuffs his feet in the dirt.

At last, as the person with any semblance of intelligence Hen says, “Buck. Did you use any word related to marriage? Like “husband” or “marry” or even “matrimony”?” Her eyebrows rises. “Anything that’s not a metaphor?”

Buck, face red up to the hairline now, just shrugs. “I had a-a speech, okay? I was n-nervous and it was long so I had to paraphrase.”

Finally, Hen sighs, not unkindly.

Chim chuckles, kinda unkindly.

Eddie looks almost as embarrassed as Buck and murmurs, “Sorry, man,” to Tommy as the realization hits it was just his best friend being a huge dumbass and Tommy actually didn’t do anything to deserve a beating.

Tommy, his entire focus on his boyfriend and not paying them any attention, pulls Buck’s arms down and lifts his face up again. He gives him a smile. “I said no because I thought you were asking to go on a trip, Evan,” he says softly. “And that we’ve just got a mortgage together and can’t afford one.” He shakes his head. “I was covered in grease, Pearl Jam was playing in the background, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Still looking abashed but at least not snotty anymore, Buck says, “N-no. No. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Tommy,” he says with a shrug.

Tommy smiles again. “It’s okay, baby.” For a moment, he rubs his boyfriend’s arms up and down, then says, “Sooo…”

Buck, realizing the faint pink on his boyfriend’s face, looks at him with the roundest eyes. “You mean…?”

“Well…” Tommy shrugs. “Are you gonna ask me for real or what?”

The sun dawns on Buck’s face. His eyes go bright with fresh but happier tears. “Yea-yeah.” He nods frantically. “Tommy. W-will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Tommy says. Buck pounces on him with a kiss that gets a surprised moan from him as Hen, Chimney, and Eddie start clapping and Buck cries again and so does Tommy and later that night, Buck gives him the perfect ring he had picked out and come Saturday they actually go to the greatest restaurant in LA and Tommy listens as Buck explains every step of his original proposal and all the metaphors he’s curated carefully for his speech.

The end.

#i was like i dont wanna write this fic but then my silly tumblr post about it become 2k lol #also p sure this was the premise of a fic ive read like a decade ago but i dont remember what it was #if anyone knows let me know #bucktommy #tevan #911 #911 fanfic #bucktommy fic #kinley

111 notes · View notes

gaymurdersalad · 2 days

Note

Jack! You should try talking it out with Dave. Tell him how you feel, how from your perspective how tiring and agonising this whole situation is.

Dave cares about you a lot. I'm sure he'll understand you.

> Fuck you! Quit giving me those puppy dog eyes! It’s not gonna work this time, no, you’re not gonna ruin my life and waltz back in like we’re still friends. I only liked you when I hated myself. Get it through that fucking lobotomized skull, you purple leech.

> … Do you even realize what you’re sayin’ to me, Sportsy?

> I know exactly what I’m saying! You deaf too, you bastard?

> I didn’t ask for your help! Y’know, Sportsy, I coulda been perfectly fine rotting in that alleyway! You didn’t HAVE to drag me back to your home just to fuckin’ chew me out you goddamn hypocrite! What the fuck is wrong with you?!

> It was a moment of weakness. Never in my right mind would I ever let you back in here!

> Sportsy, I know that ain’t really what you think, so can you stop bein’ so goddamn difficult and just tell me what the hell is pissin’ you off today?

> Today? Today?! You’ve been making my life fucking miserable since the moment I met you! You saw I was struggling, you noticed that I hated the company, and instead of leaving me well enough alone, you took advantage of me and made me do your fucking dirty work! I was prepared to do good, I was prepared to save whatever kid was stupid enough to let your cryptid ass lure them into the backroom, but god, when offered with the opportunity to burn it all down, I took it! I couldn’t have met a worse person, someone who fed into that fucking hate and malice and made me worse!

> You’re— You’re blaming me? Sportsy, You’re grown! You are a grown man, you made your own goddamn decision! How are you being so childish right now?! Stop tryin’ to escape the parts you don’t like about yourself, just deal with ‘em like every other adult!

> Deal with it?

> I killed children! Little kids!

> And that’s somehow my fault?

> If you’d have never been there, I never would have done it.

> But you did, you stupid motherfucker, you did! So grow up!

> If you weren’t so fucking obsessed with the legacy of a man that doesn’t even love you, I would never be here! I’d still be living my shitty existence with my shitty family in a shitty house that I couldn’t afford in a shitty world with a shitty job! Your bullfuckery cost me a life, it costed dozens of kids their futures, it destroyed families! Telling me to grow up?? You can only do whatever the fuck your daddy tells you to do!

> Do you know what the hell this means to me? Do you even understand why I’m doin’ this at all? It’s ‘cause I trust him, Sportsy, I trust him with my life ‘cause he’s saved it over and over again! You don’t know what’s happened to me, you don’t know what the hell I’ve seen, what Henry’s dragged me out of! You’ll never fuckin’ understand what he means to me!

> You’re right. I don’t know. Although what I do know, as any other sane, rational person would, is that whatever he’s done for you, it does not justify snuffing out the lives of little kids as some twisted form of gratitude.

> You’re bein’ really unfair!

> Unfair?? I didn’t realize murder was unfair! Okay, you should have every right to take someone else’s life! It’s only fair! It’s only right ‘cause it’s Henry!

> You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you ain’t never had a dad, you don’t know what the fuck I’d lose if I didn’t satisfy him!

> …

> Yeah, turns out I ain’t brain dead, you soulless bastard. I remember everything you’ve ever told me. Everything you spilled outta those rotten guts in Vegas. You wanna know why, you sick fuck? ‘Cause I liked you. I liked how you treated me, like a person. Lookin’ at me wit’ them doe eyes, so fuckin’ receptive and so goddamn… affectionate.

> Look, Sportsy, I know you whether you want me to or not. I know you don’t hate me, I know you never did. I don’t hate you neither. It’s not a question of if you’re ashamed of what you’ve done or whether it’s my fault or not— you like me. You are so fuckin’ violated to know that I can see through you. Sometimes that’s what I like about you, but right now it’s pissin’ me off. Lay down the goddamn charades and tell me what you want without usin’ any of that goddamn language you were dishin’ out earlier.

> Stop living for Henry.

> …

> Stop making it impossible for me to like you.

> … I can be close with Henry and still be your friend, Sportsy—

> No, you can’t! My entire reason for existence is to right Henry’s wrongs! My best friend cannot be his fucking protégé! Dave, you don’t understand what this is doing to me! I want you more than I want to do good in the world! Do you realize how sincerely fucked up that is?!

> … You’re not the only one who feels this way, Sportsy. This is puttin’ me in a uncomfortable position too. You’re askin’ me for a lot.

> I didn’t realize not murdering anyone required serious introspection.

> Gah, it’s not just about the murder, get over it! That’s all you ever wanna fuckin’ talk about! The very fuckin’ notion that I should lay all my loyalties down for the likes of you is downright insulting— the one who abandoned me after givin’ me a taste of humanity! Yer a joke and a conman and I cannot fuckin’ stand you!

> Yet I care about what you think of me, which is the wildest part of it all! I want you to like me again, but as you’ve so clearly forced down my throat, you won’t do it again unless I betray my own father! Unless I submit to YOUR goddamn ideology! Is it just that you’re usin’ me? Do you just want another pair of hands just like I asked for yours all those years ago? Trynna worm your way into a heartless vessel, are ya? All I got left is my brain, Sportsy, and you and that pink fuck are rippin’ it apart at the seams! Gah!

> You ain’t blameless yourself, anyhow! What, you had one good trip on ether and decided you were a saint? You’ve killed same as me, don’t you dare try and look down on me like you’re any better! So easily persuaded to kill, so easily persuaded to spare— can you ever make up your goddamn mind, or are you just gonna let people boss you around your entire afterlife? Yer like a fuckin’ sheep, like goddamn livestock for people that wanna use you! Turns out we ain’t so different after all, huh?!

> GOD, YOU’RE SUCH A FUCKING PLAGUE!

> I WISH I NEVER TOLD YOU TO SKIP WORK! I WISH I MAIMED YOU IN THAT SPRINGLOCK SUIT, I WISH EVERY RIGGED PIECE IN THAT FUCKIN’ THING WRANG THE LIFE OUTTA YOU OUT FOR GOOD! GOD, I WISH YOU WERE FUCKIN’ DEAD!

> … You… You wish you what…?

> …!

#gaymurdersalad #murder salad #salad lore

91 notes · View notes

wildernessuntothemselves · 1 day

Text

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 4

Word Count: 6.1k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again.

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous.

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before?

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams.

Warnings: fem!reader, breast play, humping, slight somnophilia, switch!reader, switch!beomgyu, mentions of past rape, yandere!beomgyu, reader gaslighting herself

He is lying on his side with his arms wrapped around you, staring at you, while you lay on your back, one hand on his arm draped over your chest and your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You’ve been lying like this since your alarm went off, waking you so you can start getting ready for work, though you think Beomgyu may have been awake even earlier.

Your middle finger traces a small line over a vein on the back of his arm, feeling the warmth there as if you can feel his life’s blood. His grip on you is steady, confident, and he never takes his eyes off you.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” You ask softly, voice heavy with sleep. You don’t elaborate on what you mean, and Beomgyu doesn’t ask for it.

“No.” Comes his quick reply. ”Because just being here with you like this… It makes it all worth it.”

You finally turn to look at him, and your heart swells up in your chest. You love him so much. Despite everything, you love him.

“Call in sick for me.” You tell him and he jumps at the opportunity, not hesitating for a second. He grabs your phone and dials your work, making up some bullshit story about you being sick and needing to stay home. You’re usually a dedicated worker despite the grief Beomgyu brings you–because of the grief Beomgyu brings you. The harder he makes it for you, the more you want to hold onto your job because it gives you independence from him and prevents you from being completely codependent on each other the way you know he desires and the way you find yourself secretly wishing you were when things get very tough and all you can think about is being wrapped up by him, protected and cared for and safe from the horrible, cruel world that causes you so much pain and suffering. Because why go out there to fight every day when you can be with him and let him take care of everything?

But then you force yourself to push these thoughts away and act like a grown-up because despite your immense love for Beomgyu, you're not stupid enough to hang your entire future on a man in this day and age. Yes, he loves you but you’re sure all the women who made that mistake before you were also in love. Or at least you like to think you're not that stupid…But for today you’ll let him win. For today you’ll see what the alternative is.

Beomgyu ends the call with your boss with a toothy smile on his face. He looks excited, like you’ve given him the best present ever and he jumps back in to take you in his arms, kissing the side of your face.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks and you shrug, throwing the question back to him. “What do you want to do?”

“I just want to be with you.” He admits and your heart clenches.

“Let’s eat first. I’m starving” You tell him and he’s so excited he doesn’t even whine at your lack of reply to his loving proclamation.

________________________________

Beomgyu makes sure to make the food for you. He keeps apologizing for not having a lot of materials to work with and lamenting the fact that he can’t make this dish or that dish as if you were expecting some extravagant feast.

“Beomgyu, it’s just breakfast.” You reassure him but he shakes his head. “I want to give you the best. Do you want to go eat out? There is this really good restaurant 20 minutes away.”

When he tells you the name of the restaurant, you frown. “Isn’t that place really expensive?”

He shrugs. “Only the best for my princess.”

You shake your head. “I don’t need something fancy, Beomgyu. Pancakes are fine.”

He frowns at that, seemingly upset that you don’t want the expensive restaurant. What’s the deal with him? Sometimes you think he dislikes that you don’t want him to spend his money on you.

Still, in order to make him stop fretting, you say, “Being with you is enough.”

That makes him light up, and he is suddenly content with pancakes too.

“It looks nice outside. Maybe we can pack up some lunch and go for a picnic?” You suggest and he perks up even more. “Yeah. We've got some cold cuts I can make into sandwiches and we can grab some cupcakes or muffins on the way.”

He sounds very excited about getting to spend the day like this with you and it makes you both happy that you've made him so excited by such a small thing but also sad that he has probably been feeling a bit neglected by you recently as you pulled away from him due to everything that’s going on with the dreams and Taehyun.

Well, today you'll make it up to him. Today, you'll set all your worries aside and just enjoy the day with your loving boyfriend.

“Sounds good.”

___________________________________

Beomgyu made way too much food for the picnic and he insisted on preparing everything all by himself, wanting to pamper you. Maybe he himself also feels guilt over not stopping when you asked him to but in a way that makes you feel even worse. He didn’t know that you were serious and you’re no stranger to playfully whining for the other to stop when you’re messing around–even you have done it to him before–so you understand why he didn’t immediately stop. He must feel awful about it. You may be having issues with Beomgyu but that doesn’t mean that he would ever hurt you in that way. You’re his entire life and it's unfair to him to be having these disturbing thoughts, even if you can't control them.

Maybe you just need to agree on a safe word so this doesn’t happen again… if you can even get yourself to get over your irrational trepidation every time you think about having sex with him now that is.

“Beomgyu, I can feed myself.” You roll your eyes when he tries to put a sandwich to your mouth and push his hand away, feeling an uneasy sense of deja vu at the action. For some reason, the most random actions you or Beomgyu do feel like something you’ve done before. Every moment feels like you’ve lived it before and it’s freaking you out. You secretly worry that you’re losing your mind.

He pouts, looking deflated at the small rejection. “I know. I just want to take care of you.”

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You say again and he puts the food down, looking even more dejected at that.

You sigh and open your arms. “Come here, Gyu.”

He eagerly gets into your embrace, laying his head down on your chest and letting you wrap your arms around him.

You kiss the side of his head, breathing in his scent and feeling it soothe your anxiety like a healing balm. “I don't need all of this. I just need you. The you that I love, and not this crazy possessive guy that scares me.”

“And I only ever want you.” He looks up at you, his eyes sad. “If I can be sure that you'll only ever be mine, I wouldn't act so crazy.”

You want to argue with him, get angry that he's asking you to prove your loyalty to him as if you had cheated on him, but you also know that what you feel for Taehyun isn't completely innocent and it would be hypocritical of you to act like his worries are completely irrational.

You sigh, looking at the park around you. You were at one of your favorite parts by the lake. Though it is a little hard to enjoy with so many people around, kids screaming and guys jokingly cussing each other out. You wish it would just be you and Beomgyu here.

“You know these grounds once belonged to the royal family.” You tell Beomgyu, “Imagine having all this beauty to yourself. Wouldn't that have been wonderful?”

“I suppose so.” He mumbles unenthusiastically but you keep going. “Their lives must've been so easy. Eating good food, dressing in fancy clothes, sipping tea in their huge ass gardens…”

“I'm sure they had their struggles.” Beomgyu interjects and you snort. “Yeah right. Their struggles of where to spend all that money.”

“They didn't control their own decisions. They were trapped in what everyone else expected of them. They didn't choose what to wear, who to hangout with, what they want to do with their lives or even who to marry.”

Beomgyu's sudden speech gives you pause. “Damn I didn't know you were so passionate about royal life.”

Is he saying that because he wants to discourage you from talking about the prince dreams again? Well, you weren’t planning to mention them to him anymore, not after how twisted and ugly they’re become.

He falters, seeming to realize how odd it was for him to get worked up over your silly complaints. “It's just… things aren't always what they seem.”

“I suppose. I mean I hear that their lives were filled with deceit and betrayal, like killing each other for power and shit. I'd rather be poor and alive, thanks.” You finally say to lighten up the mood and he smiles, thankfully playing along. “I want you alive too.”

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes and he laughs. “I admit it's not one of my best lines.”

“Well, good thing I got you some love poems to learn from.” You declare, pulling out the book you brought along to the picnic.

“You just want to hear my sexy ass voice narrating your favorite poems.” He calls you out and you don’t even try to deny it. “Guilty. What, I can't take advantage of my sexy boyfriend?”

“You can take advantage of me all you want, baby.” He says greasily and you pretend to gag. “Stick to the poems, loverboy. Don't waste your voice on these corny lines.”

“Yes, princess.” He grins, grabbing the book from your hand and flopping his head on your lap so you can play with his hair while he reads your favorite poems.

Sitting there, with the love of your life in your arms, his deep voice reading out words of love and longing from the most gifted poets and writers of the world, you feel lucky. How could you not when those words that have moved millions over decades and centuries, driving them to long for a love just like that, feel like your reality.

The love you have with Beomgyu is what those poems are written about. Yes, it can be dark and scary, but it can also be so, so beautiful. Just like now, with him sneaking glances at you in between every proclamation of love and adoration he reads off, as if his eyes can’t help but jump to you at every reminder, seeking the sight of the exact love they’re reading about.

Yes, doing this was the right choice. You feel so happy and content right now, the sunshine beaming down at the both of you and warming up your skin can’t even compete with the internal warmth and love you feel holding Beomgyu at this moment. This is perfect. This is where you belong. And this is just what he’s trying to make sure lasts right? He acts crazy sometimes because he knows this love is too rare and special to lose, right?

But the feeling of peace and happiness doesn’t last forever, and an unexpected gloom arrives in the form of one of your favorite poems–Annabelle Lee. Sure, it’s a sad and deeply moving poem but you didn’t anticipate the way it was going to affect Beomgyu.

It all starts off normally, his rich voice setting the perfect tone for the beautiful poem as you play with his soft locks, running them through the fingers of one hand while the other gently massages his scalp.

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

You smile to yourself as you look down at Beomgyu. It’s funny how that’s just what you were thinking–that all that matters is the love you share between the two of you. You bend down to press a kiss to his forehead, and giggle at the way he unconsciously lifts his head up to get closer to your lips.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Laughed loud at her and me.

Then he hesitates, pausing as he reaches the last line, and you have to nudge him gently to get him to keep going. You see his eyebrows knit together in a perturbed frown but he continues for you.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went laughing at her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

You try to smoothen the lines that formed between Beomgyu’s thick eyebrows but even another kiss to the troubled lines are of no use as his focus was now entirely on the book in front of him. His anxiety was palpable and infectious, and a strange sense of doom creeps up on your protective bubble.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the laughter in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

Beomgyu's voice turned hoarse and patchy as he carried on, and you feel a prickling at the back of your throat as a profound and all consuming grief that you've never felt before and don’t think you have the capacity to contain threatens to engulf you. You hold onto him tighter, suddenly terrified. It’s silly. You’ve read this poem more times than you can remember, and sure it always moved you and made you sad, but it never caused you such gut-wrenching pain as it was doing right now. Whatever misery the poem was triggering in Beomgyu was transferring directly to you through your skin and suddenly the poet was Beomgyu and you were Anabelle Lee–he’d lost you and you can only sit there and watch him suffer and waste away as he cries over you.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Beomgyu's voice breaks completely as he utters ‘my life and my bride’ and by the time he finishes the poem, he is openly crying. You’re crying too, and hugging him tightly to you. You’re sure you’re both making quite the spectacle of yourselves but you don’t care. You hold him so tightly your fingers turn white and numb, and he does the same. The sense of loss that is filling you up is so intense and vivid, it's as if you've lived it. You’re scared that if you let him go, you’ll be taken away from him just like in the poem.

“Why–” He sobs into your chest, his cries rattling your already injured heart. “Why did they have to be ripped apart?”

“I don't know, baby.” You bend down to kiss his sweet lips, not really knowing what to say but wishing to calm him down–calm yourself down and try to shake off the irrational fear that something like this is going to happen to you. “Sometimes life is just cruel.”

“No. I can't accept that.” He says resolutely, sitting up to face you and reaching out to hold your face in his hands. “Promise you'll never let anyone or anything take you away from me.”

“Beomgyu–”

“Please…” His voice shudders as he tries to speak through his tears. “I can't lose you.”

“Oh, baby.” You sigh, reaching out to wipe the sparkling tears off his face. Oh, how you'll say and do anything for this beautiful boy.

“I promise.”

_______________________________

When you get back to work the following day, Taehyun corners you in the back room as soon as he gets the chance.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks with concern in his voice and you look at him in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“You called in sick yesterday.” His eyes narrow, already suspicious.

“Oh, right.” You remember Beomgyu calling in sick for you, and you try to brush off his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Taehyun doesn’t let your small slip up pass, now probably convinced there was some malicious reason behind your absence. “Are you sure? Beomgyu didn’t do anything weird, did he?”

His question pisses you off, perhaps because you already feel so guilty towards Beomgyu for your unjustifiable aversion to being physical to him because of your dreams, but you certainly don’t want Taehyun to think Beomgyu is abusing you or something. “No, he didn’t. He took care of me all day yesterday.” You say sharply and Taehyun winces, realizing he has gotten off on the wrong foot with you and that you’re no longer tolerant of him denigrating your boyfriend’s image to you.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly backs down, which is unusual for him, and you feel a twinge of sorrow for going off on him like that. He was just worried about you, but still, he was inadvertently part of the reason you and Beomgyu are having issues and you can’t help but feel frustrated and resentful about that.

“Whatever.” You try to brush him off and get back to the main work area but he is not done talking.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He goes on, stopping you in your tracks and you sigh. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

"Can we start over?"

You stare at him, seeing the hope in his eyes and it brings you nothing but pain. “I’m not sure we can.”

Maybe in another world you and Taehyun may have been something–in a world where you met him before you met Beomgyu, maybe. But you would be acting wilfully ignorant if you went back to your budding friendship with Taehyun. Because you know it upsets Beomgyu. Because you know it wouldn’t be just an innocent friendship and that there is more at play here. You need to nip it all in the bud before it grows out of control and suffocates your actual, real relationship with Beomgyu.

You’re loyal to your boyfriend. Whatever strange and inexplicable feelings you hold for Taehyun should be abandoned and forgotten, and they can’t be if you keep being such buddies-buddies with him.

His face falls at your response and you think you can detect an edge of anger to his voice. Why the hell is he angry? He has no right to be upset with you for setting boundaries in order to protect your relationship. “I was out of line. I get it. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“It can't.” You affirm, getting angry yourself. “I'm dating Beomgyu. I love Beomgyu.”

Though Taehyun is usually good at managing his facial expressions, you can clearly see the way his face twists in pain at your proclamation. This is exactly why you have to stay away from each other.

“I know that.” He says through gritted teeth. “Believe me I don’t want to be having these feelings as much as you do, but I can’t control it. There is something drawing us together and I know you can feel it too.”

“Oh, come on, Taehyun, now you sound delusional like me.” You scoff, berating yourself as much as him. You’ve let this delusion get too far. “Next thing you’ll be saying you’re having dreams of us in a past life too.”

“Don’t mock me.” He scowls, the hurt still plainly clear on his face no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it with his unjustifiable temper.

You sigh again. This is not a fight you want to get into. It’s over. You have to end this. “I am not mocking you. But I can’t let whatever this is ruin what I have with the man I love.”

At that, Taehyun turns and walks away wordlessly, and a deep wound opens up in your chest as you watch him leave. You do your best to ignore it. Just as suddenly and inexplicably these feelings developed for Taehyun, you’re sure they will pass away and everything will return back to normal. This is all just a result of the doubts that have been plaguing you about Beomgyu. It’s just your mind coming up with weird feelings and scenarios that mean nothing. Soon enough, you and Beomgyu will be living in mutual bliss like before and you’ll forget about this whole nightmare.

_______________________________

Beomgyu is holding back. You can see it. He tries to keep his desires in check so he doesn't hurt you again without meaning to. He doesn’t want to rush you but you can tell he is suffering.

You can feel the way he reluctantly pulls away when his kisses get heated. You can see the way he averts his eyes when you wear something too revealing around the house. You can hear him when he sneaks to the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself.

And you can definitely feel it now in the way his unconscious body ruts against yours in his sleep.

“Beomgyu…” You call out, mouth dry as you feel his cock grinding against your ass.

“Princess…” He moans at the sound of you calling his name, his hips driving into your ass harder, still asleep. “Need you…”

And you'd be lying if you said you weren't affected too. You need him too. Your body naturally reacts to his, panties already getting wet as his bulge grinds between your legs. But you still haven’t been able to shake those disturbing images and feelings out of your head completely, especially not when he calls you princess. The word now carries an unexpected negative association for you.

“Princess, please…” He cries in your ear, his fingers digging into your stomach. “Oh god, please.”

It makes you feel so fucking guilty to hear how desperate and needy he sounds, unconscious and unable to hold himself back like has been doing so many times recently. You want so bad to help. You want to push him on his back and ride his cock until he’s satiated and happy like he always gets when you fuck him, but you’re not sure you can.

“Wake up.” You urge him, torn between the heat gathering in your belly and the suffocating feeling of being trapped in his hold. You want to help him–you want to help yourself–but you’re fucking scared that it would trigger those horrific images once again.

But Beomgyu only whines and drives his hips into your harder. “My princess…”

“Beomgyu, wake up.” You call out once again, much more firmly this time, and he finally jolts awake, sitting up so he’s now hovering over you and checking you over.

“Wha–what?” His first instinct is to make sure you’re safe and unharmed, looking over your body and touching you slightly all over to confirm you’re not injured. Then the confusion comes in–why do you have that look on your face?--but that only lasts a few seconds before the realization finally kicks in and his face crumbles in dismay. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry. I've just been–”

“Needy? Yeah, I can feel that.” You push your thigh between his legs, trying to push away your unwanted feelings. He was so panicked about you being hurt that it all just makes you feel that much more guilty. Beomgyu would never hurt you. It was all in your head, and you want to get rid of it. You want to allow yourself to feel the love of your boyfriend again.

“Oh, princess, I missed you so much.” He falls right into it, humping your leg just like you expected. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so weak.”

“Aw, puppy…” You coo, brushing his hair out of his face so you can take a good look at the pathetic look on his face that you love so much. It sends a fucking jolt of electricity down to your already heated core.

“It has barely been a couple of weeks.” You reprimand as if your panties weren’t rapidly getting wet right now. But Shame isn’t in Beomgyu’s vocabulary anyway. “A couple of weeks of having you right next to me and not being able to touch you. It was torture.”

He pushes your nightshirt up and buries his face in your tits. You almost laugh, of course this would be the first thing the pervert does. Except what comes out of your mouth are not laughs but moans as his mouth quickly finds one of your nipples to wrap around.

“Fuck, I missed these tits.” He mumbles, voice muffled as he continues to kiss and suck all over your breasts, making your back arch up into his touch and small whines escape your lips.

“Good boy, gyu.” You whine, fingers pulling ruthlessly at his hair that you’re usually so careful and gentle with as he pulls your other nipple in his mouth and sucks harshly. Your hips thrust up against his body as you seek some relief from the liquid heat dripping out of you.

He quickly notices and one of his hands sneaks between your legs to cup your soaked panties. He pulls off your nipples with an obscene pop, smirking cockily. “Looks like I'm not the only needy one here.”

You can't do anything but bite your lip as his palm kneads your sensitive pussy, your teeth tearing into the soft skin as you try to hold in your own needy moans. But Beomgyu doesn’t like that. He uses his other hand to pull your lip away from your teeth and push his thumb in so he has your mouth open and nothing in the way of the salacious noises he craves.

“Beomgyu…” You slur, struggling to talk with his thumb pushing down on your tongue but it's clear from the way you push your pussy further against his hand what you want.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” He asks, his eyes raking up and down from your flushed face to your exposed tits as you arch your body up, seeking your high against his hand.

“Uh-huh.” Drool dribbles down the corner of your mouth that is still held open by Beomgyu before he finally removes his thumb from your mouth and uses it to flick and pull at your perked nipple.

That extra bit of stimulation makes you cry and jolt as your orgasm comes crashing down like a wave onto your poor deprived body. If your panties were wet before, you're sure that now they've drenched and staining the sheets under you.

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He focuses on your face as the embarrassingly wet sounds of him continuing to palm your pussy through it all fill the room.

He doesn't stop until after your body is no longer convulsing and just settling into a sluggish tremble as your slack open mouth lets out small, hoarse moans.

Finally he stops, bending down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into open mouth and his hand wrapping around your jaw to get you to wrap your lips around it. You sluggishly respond, your mind still blank from the intense pleasure you just experienced. You didn’t even realize how much you'd missed his touch until now.

But it's not over yet. You may have gotten what you needed but he is still as needy as he was before–even more so after the little show you put on for him, and you can feel exactly how much when pulls your soaked panties to the side to press his bare cock against your pussy.

But as soon as you feel the head of his cock at your entrance, your body seizes up in terror and your mind goes into overdrive with image after image of that horrible nightmare.

“No!” You shriek, trying to close your legs and push him away but you can't because he's lying between your legs and you only succeed in pulling him closer to you which freaks you out even more and you start sobbing. “No. Please, no.”

“What? What happened? What did I do?” He freaks out too. It must be such a whiplash for him. Everything was going so well and he probably doesn't understand what caused your sudden breakdown, but it's not like you can explain it to him when you don't even understand it yourself.

All you know is that you don’t want him to stop so you just cry and shake your head. “Don't. Please, don't.”

The blood drains from his face as he helplessly watches you descend further and further into this unprovoked mental break. “Baby, what's wrong? Just tell me what happened.”

He tries to reach out to calm you down but you finally manage to push him off you and scramble off the bed. “Stay away.”

You pull your night shirt down to cover yourself. You feel disgusted, tainted, used. Why is this happening to you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Princess, please. Talk to me.” He pleads, and you can see his fists clutching tightly onto the bedsheets in order to hold himself back from leaping off the bed and taking you in his arms like you know he is dying to. That's his natural response. It's what his body and heart compel him to do. When you're hurt and in pain, that's what he does–he holds you, kisses you, comforts you, reassures you until you forget everything that has hurt you because nothing in heaven or on earth can get through him. He would never let anything hurt you. But how can he do that when he's the one who is hurting you? How can he protect you from himself?

“You're killing me, baby.” He weeps, distraught and not knowing what to do with himself when he doesn’t even know how he's hurt you. “Please, please, tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

How can you say it? It's too cruel. If he's upset and miserable now, you don't want to think about what he'd be like if you revealed to him that the reason you have been withdrawing from him and reacting so negatively to his touch was because of the terrible disgusting images your fucked up brain decided to randomly conjure up and that he had no control over. It wasn't his fault and you were basically treating him like a rapist.

But Beomgyu will not let it go. How can he when he can't even touch you without you reacting like he had burned you? He has to know. He deserves to know it's not his fault.

“It's… the dreams.” You start, finding it difficult to talk through your parched throat. Your eyes flutter all over his face, searching for the smallest reaction to your words. You know he won't take it well–and you can't blame him. This is why he was so wary of the dreams. He didn't want them to infect your real life and now they have completely infested your brain.

“I had an awful dream that you… that you..” You break down crying again. You don't want to say it. You don't want to break him twice. The worst thing is that they weren’t even just dreams anymore. It was like you were recalling actual memories. They come to you while you’re fully awake now. There is no escape and you don’t know what to do.

“That I what?” He asks, voice so shallow with fear that it's barely a whisper.

“That you… forced yourself on me.” You finally say it and the color drains completely from Beomgyu's face. “I tried so hard to push those images away. I know you would never do that to me but every time we touch–”

“I got it.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear anymore. Beomgyu never shuts you up. He always wants to hear you talk–to hear every thought that crosses your mind. He soaks them all up whether good or bad. This is the first time he's ever had enough and that scares you more than anything. Is this how you ruin your relationship? Is this the final straw?

“Oh god, Beomgyu, I'm sorry.” You can hardly see through your tears so you walk closer to him, your need to be comforted by him, to know he still loves you, finally overpowering the heinous images in your brain.

But your heart rips in half when Beomgyu flinches away from your touch. “Don't.”

“I'm sorry.” You repeat, holding your arms out slightly from your body, waiting for Beomgyu to slot his own between them where they belong, selfishly needing him to make you feel better about everything when you’re the one who hurt him. “I'll do better. I will force myself to get through this. Just please…”

“Okay.” Beomgyu replies emotionlessly and gets off the bed and away from you.

“Where are you going?” You ask him, terrified. “Are you leaving? I'm sorry, I swear. Forget about everything I said. I'll do whatever you want, just please–”

You walk towards him, reaching out to grab the top of his pants, intent on doing anything to make him stay but he pushes you off, disgust etched on his face. “No. Don't touch me.”

You knew those words hurt him when you said them to him before but you couldn't have imagined just how much, but as you stand now with those same words directed at you, it takes every fiber of you being not to hunch over from the agony they inflict on you. You never thought those wretched words would ever come out of Beomgyu's mouth–no, not your Beomgyu. And it's all your fault.

“Please, don't leave me.” You cry, and Beomgyu looks at you in shock. “Leave? I told you I would never leave you.”

That brings you some comfort, but it's not complete as he continues to stand far away from you, and you make sure to tell him as much.

“Then come hold me.” You ask petulantly. Is it hypocritical of you to demand physical closeness from him when you had before pushed him away when he was in your shoes? Yes, but you don't care. You just want him to stay and put your heart back together before you bleed out.

“I need space. I need to think.” He says and you shake your head resolutely. “There is nothing to think about. I want you to stay.”

He gives you a smile so ingenuine it looked more like a grimace. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Don't walk out on me, Beomgyu.” You tell him, a threatening edge to your voice. Threatening what? You don't know. What are you going to do, sulk until he comes back?

And he knows it too because he just shakes his head and tells you to get some sleep before he walks out. You scream after him, probably waking up all the neighbors but you don't care.

“Beomgyu! Come back! You're just gonna leave me here like this, you fucking asshole?” You scream and scream until your throat raw but he doesn’t come back, and with the last bit of your energy spent on your screams, you crumble to the ground and curl up into a ball–your knees pressed up to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them–trying to staunch off your hemorrhaging heart as your world falls away around you.

_________________________________________

A/N: this will always remain my comfort fic despite how dark it can be. i will never get over this. anyway let me know your thoughts and depending on the result of this poll, the next chapter may be the last one or there will be one more chapter.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #tomorrow x together smut #yandere #take care that i said who do you want her to choose #not who will she end up with lmao #there is a difference

72 notes · View notes

awellposhmagazine · 2 days

Text

needles + pins

matty x tattoo artist! reader

warnings: 18+, fem reader, alcohol, hand stuff (m recieving), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, gratitious masochism, impact play, strong insta-love but its MY fic i get to choose the immersion breakers. not edited as well as it should have been because proofreading makes me want to die.

5.7k

love u!!!!!

you can always hear matty before you see him, and today is no different.

in fact, you can hear him before you see anyone; boisterous cackling laughter ringing out from the studio and onto the street outside even before you push the doors open.

he’s leaning over the counter like he owns the place, and he might as well, for the amount of time he spends hanging around. he’s got two regular artists in the studio, usually robin or mark, but today he’s picked you. god knows why, really - you’ve probably spoken to him for a grand total of 5 minutes in the six months you’ve known him. but he’s nice to look at and tips well, so you’d taken the appointment without second thought.

whatever conversation he’d been in can't have been very important despite its volume, because his head turns on a swivel the moment he hears you come in the door.

“hey- there she is. sorry i’m a little early.”

when you lean past the counter to shake his hand, you catch a whiff of him; spearmint gum cutting through the heady scent of cigarettes.

“no worries. come through and take a seat - i’m just gonna get settled and grab my sketches and then we can get started. can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?”

his gaze is lingering on your hand where you’d just grasped his. “nah - i’m all good, darlin’. lead the way.”

you get him set up in the little waiting room off the entrance and busy yourself with prep; wiping down the table and firing up your ipad. you shoot him a glance or two throughout the process -. he’s sprawled out on the red velvet couch pushed up against the back wall and he can’t seem to sit still; smacking his gum back and forth and bouncing his knee up and down. a couple of thick silver rings adorn his fingers, and a single silver hoop hangs inconspicuously from his left earlobe. he’s wearing gym shorts and some band t-shirt you can’t quite make out from the angle he’s sitting. as every time you’ve seen him, the man is a livewire. you hope he can sit still.

he straightens a little and reduces the intensity of his manspreading when you step into the room, and you bite back a smile.

“okay,” you start, settling beside him and titling the screen of your ipad in his direction. “here’s what i worked up based on your references - have a look and let me know what you think. don’t be shy in letting me know if there’s anything you really hate, or something missing - i want you to love it.”

matty’s eyes fall on the screen and his brows furrow immediately, but not for disapproval. “fuckin’ hell, that’s sick. ‘s exactly what i had in mind - better, even.”

a little ball of warmth settles nicely in your chest, and you beam.

“that’s awesome. you’re totally sure - nothing else you wanted to tweak or add? i know some of these lines are pretty harsh-”

matty’s head shakes, and he exhales a breath of something like relief. you smell spearmint again.

“nah, i love it, honestly. you’re insane..”

your smile splits a couple notches wider still. “thank you. uh - you know the drill - if you could just fill out the waiver for me, i’ll get some stencils done up and come back and grab you when i’m ready, ok?”

you slide the screen over to him across the table with the empty form and accidentally brush his finger.

as you fire up the printer matty taps away at the form and you wonder, offhandedly, who he’s putting down as his emergency contact.

you print out three or four possible sizes of the design and do a smack job of cutting them out, and then you’re back in the doorway. “okay - where’s this guy going again?”

“uhhh-,” matty looks down and seems to briefly eye each of his limbs one by one, and you realise he has no idea. “where do you think?”

the question catches you off guard, but you’re quick to recover. “uhh- let’s see- where’ve you got space?”

matty nods and makes an endearing little humming sound that rumbles in his chest. “er - ‘ve got one on my chest, one by my hip. couple on my lower legs. arms are a little full.”

you ponder the design in your hand for a moment.

“how ‘bout a thigh?”

for some reason the suggestion seems to knock the wind out of him. you read it as discomfort immediately and get halfway through suggesting an alternative when matty nods. “thigh could be cool.”

you blink at him a couple times, surprised. “you sure?”

“yeah- fuck it. lets do it.”

he says the same again when you pull out the second biggest of the stencils and map it out on his upper left thigh, and you’re inclined to agree.

“well - you’re an easy one.”

he is, all things considered; settling on the very first design you show him and ticking the no allergies box on his waiver. the way he chuckles shly at the double entendre of your words is just a bonus.

“ok, i’m gonna get you to sit up for me to get started, but if you need to lie down or lean back at any point just let me know.”

matty nods and gets himself settled onto your chair. he looks nice there - like he belongs. you’ve positioned the seat up fairly high so you can get a good angle between his thighs; so much so that his feet barely touch the floor. you’d pay him out for it if you knew him better.

you can feel his eyes on you as you go about your preparations; pouring out your ink and snapping on a pair of plastic gloves. it’s a nice feeling. there’s nothing nervous or domineering in his gaze, just a gentle fascination.

you’re screwing on your first needle of the afternoon when you remember to ask - “oh hey sorry - do you smoke at all?”

matty shakes his head absentmindedly, looking down at the stencil on his leg. “no, thanks.”

you can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “sorry - i should’ve clarified. are you gonna need smoke breaks?”

he flushes a lovely shade of pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and huffs out a laugh. “fuck, sorry. er- yeah, sorry.”

“no worries. smoking area is out the back and round to the left, and so are the toilets. let me know when you need to tap out.”

he nods again but says nothing, and you carry on as usual. when you lean down to shut a drawer on your rolling table and your hair brushes against the bare skin of his thigh, matty’s whole body erupts into a shudder like someone’s walked over his grave.

you don’t say anything, but something burns hot and fiery in your gut as you ready the needle.

“okay. are you all good to get started?”

you look up at him just once when you first make contact out of habit, just to check on his reaction. you can feel his breath, forcibly slow and even, on your scalp and the tops of your hands. he shoots you a soft, giddy smile and you settle into routine.

you’ve seen him being tattooed before, or better accurately heard. in the wild he’s a blur of motion; crowing and cackling and throwing his hands about when he talks like a hurricane. it makes sense that when he’s in the chair and his limbs are forced into stillness that his mouth runs double time to make up. but for you he’s eerily quiet. everytime you glance up to check on him his eyes skip from your fingers to your eyes and back again. the intensity of his gaze is almost off putting.

you work in effective silence for an hour or so, save for noting your progress or shooting a quick smile in his direction. that is, until you pass over a particularly thick line for the fourth time in a row and matty breaks the silence with that little humming sound again.

your eyes flick up to land on his, and you wish desperately that they hadn’t. any composure he’d readied himself with has seemingly turned to jelly. his arms are wide behind his back, palms splayed wide on the leather, and his chest puffs rhythmically outward, rising and falling with noticeably harder breaths than before. his face is the worst bit. his eyebrows are pinched just the slightest bit in the middle of his forehead, and his pupils are blown wide like saucers.

if you hadn’t seen him breeze through a chest piece two months ago with little more than a wince, you’d chalk it up to a pain response.

this is something else. something that sends a realisation twisting and curling hotly down your spine.

he liked it. the pain. your pain.

his hips jerk lightly as you trace over one line particularly tight in his inner thigh, and you nearly send a whole inkcap flying across the floor.

the cigarette break he requests not long after is equally relieving for both of you, you think.

he disappears around the side of the building, treading delicately on his canvassed leg and fiddling with a lighter between his forefingers. you, mature and professional as ever, disappear into the bathroom and shove as close as you can manage to your entire head under the tap.

you figure you can get away with two minutes before you’re back out there and snapping on a new pair of gloves. matty’s beaten you back to the table when you do, leaning gently forwards to inspect your progress. his feet, still hanging a few inches above the ground, bounce incessantly.

“feeling okay?”

matty looks up at you with a smile, perhaps a little more forced than before. “yeah, perfect.”

he seems to be able to control himself in short windows. twenty minutes or so will pass of you pressing the needle into his skin over and over with little to no reaction, and then one particular bit of shading will have him covering an unknowable noise behind a cough.

you’re regretting the placement for many reasons, but the biggest is turning out to be that you can’t watch his face while you’re working.

“need another break soon?” you offer.

matty’s eyes open as you glance up. you hadn’t realised they’d fallen closed.

“actually uh- i’m not feeling super well. ‘m really sorry - do you think i could leave it here for today and book another session?”

your first reaction is to feel guilty. here you were, assuming he’d been getting off on the pain when he very well could’ve been holding back puking in your hair. still, you’re quick to bury the thought, laying down the gun and pinning him with a look of sympathy. it had been strange to see him so quiet.

“of course, whatever you need. don’t be sorry, please. do you need some water or something to eat?”

he shakes his head and tucks his phone into his back pocket; brushes a wayward strand of sweat soaked hair from his forehead.

“nah, i’ll be ‘right. thanks though.”

you offer your arm to matty as he slides down from the chair, but he doesn’t take it. there’s a funny sort of tension in the air that you blame on his sickness and your guilt as you schedule another appointment and set him on his way.

it's a week and a half later when you see matty outside of the chair, albeit not where you’d expected.

georgia from the front desk has dragged you to one of the afterparties she gets in on by swiping up on lighting technicians instagram stories. you can’t even remember the name of the band, but the drinks are free and the weather’s nice, so you’ve dragged yourself out and gotten half cut on a bar stool when you spot him across the room.

his head is thrown back cackling in conversation with a dark haired man, ringed hands nursing a gin and tonic. your heart does a stupid little flutter at the sight.

“hey, g - i’m gonna go say hey to my friend. if i lose you, keep your phone on and don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.”

“sure, babe. same goes.”

you exchange a hug and when you look back he’s gone. your heart sinks, until you feel a soft lingering touch on your elbow and turn with a start.

“jesus- where did you come from?”

he smiles and leans in over the music, and the smell of spearmint and tobacco permeates your senses. “sorry.”

you want to ask how the tattoo’s healing. what he’s doing here. whether he’d actually been sick during your session or whether he’d just had a raging boner and had to excuse himself. with only one drink present between you, you think you’d better stick to the first two.

before you can open your mouth again, matty’s tightening his hold on your elbow and gesturing with his head to the exit.

out in the street, away from the drinks and the music, the weather is decidedly less nice. despite the warmth exuding from the man falling into step beside you, the night air bites and stings at your bare arms and legs.

“sorry - didn’t even ask if you were headed out. was just getting a little too loud in there for proper conversation.”

“no, that’s okay. you’re probably right to have cut me off anyways.” its not a lie. you have work tomorrow.

“can i like - walk you to your car, or anything?”

“oh uh- i was just gonna walk, i’m like, two blocks away.”

“want some company?”

“sure, matty. thanks.”

you fall into a comfortable pace beside each other - your arms folded across your chest and matty’s buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. you fall into light conversation; your art, his music - all punctuated with flirty smiles and bursts of laughter that make you glow warm inside. you consider lying about where you live just to keep him walking for longer.

“this is me,” you nod to the red-bricked building on the corner of the block as you approach, “thanks for the walk.”

matty nods, blinking with glazy, owlish eyes.

“well uh - ‘t was nice to see you. sorry again about wimpin’ out the other day.”

you frown and bite back a laugh. “happens all the time. you’re doing great, honestly - it’s a rough spot.”

he raises his eyebrows and scoffs, and you can tell your words have done little to quell his embarrassment. that won’t do. on impulse, you lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the fleshy middle of his cheek. “goodnight, matty. i’ll see you next week.”

you pull back and meet his eyes. they glitter with something incommunicable that makes your mouth goes dry.

and then you lean in again, cradle a hand on the hard line of his jaw and slowly, slowly, ghost your lips over the line of his cupids bow. against your mouth, matty lets out a hard, shuddering breath, and then you’re kissing him all at once.

the tip of his nose presses flush to the edge of your own with the force that drives his lips. your heart feels like it might actually beat out of your chest. he kisses like he speaks, electric and passionate and never in one spot for long enough to get used to. when you tilt your head to accommodate him better he makes a noise like a whine into your mouth and you have to pull back for fear of dropping dead on the front lawn.

up close, you realise his hair isn’t black like you’d thought, but a deep, chocolatey brown.

“‘i’d really like to invite you in right now, but i have appointments from 8am.”

matty laughs, breathless.

if he asked nicely enough, you’d cancel them all.

—-

the wednesday of his next appointment arrives at a painful crawl. it’d been lovely normal week all things considered, but your stomach was rampant with butterflies at every mention of matty’s name. you’d seen him tagged in a photo on instagram on monday and had to take a moment in the bathroom to shake the memory of his tongue in your mouth.

its his tongue that gets you again when he finally makes his return.

“up for round two?”

you turn from your spot stocking shelves of aftercare behind the counter so fast it borders on whiplash. his hair is tousled around a pair of sunglasses on his head, and a fresh layer of cling wrap around his thigh glistens in the sun.

you return his smile, trying to suppress the fluttering in your chest. “totally. come on through.”

you’ve arguably never experienced more sexual tension in your life than you do that afternoon. the presence of the other artists and their clients scattered around the studio is only making things more dramatic. you manoeuvre easily around each other this time, settling comfortably between his legs while he leans back with a certain air of cockiness that hadn’t existed before.

still, you hear his breath hitch to the heavens at the first kiss of needle to skin. where he’d watched you work with keen interest last time, he can’t seem to hold it today. from the corner of your eye you watch his gaze flit back and forth between the ceiling, the prints on the wall, the fingernails on his right hand.

other than his insistence to avoid looking down, the space and the conversation between you is entirely innocent. you keep accidentally catching each others eyes and smiling like idiots.

you carry on like that just fine for about half an hour until he fails to suppress a particularly violent shudder and your heart jumps into your throat.

“you okay?”

he nods; subtle, embarrassed - and doesn't meet your eye. its then that you decide to torture him a little bit.

you’ve leaned in to get at a particularly large section of shading when your free hand comes down on his opposite thigh for leverage, nails against bare skin, and he whimpers like a kicked dog.

you have to lean away and cough into your elbow to hide your grin.

he’s all twitchy and hot like he’s down with a fever when you eventually switch off the machine & wrap him up with the saniderm.

“ok, uh, you’re probably a pro with aftercare at this point, but there’s a little guide out by the counter if you need a refresher.”

“sure, yeah - thank you.”

its just the two of you now - the other artists having finished up an hour ago and left you to lock up. matty stares, unmoving, and you sigh.

it’s of the messy, certain-death, shirt-tugging variety when your lips connect across the table. the rolling stool you’d been sitting on goes flying towards the back wall, and a few bottles of ink crash from cupboard to floor. your gloves are quick to follow as you stumble blindly to slot between his legs.

his lips are moving so fast, so impatient, and you want to tell him to slow down but you can’t even get a breath in, so you just tug his lower lip between your teeth and bite.

from the proper porn-star moan that rips from matty’s throat, you discern it was the right move.

“‘d’ you always get so worked up after getting tattooed that you have to stick your tongue down the artist’s throat?”

he tries to laugh, but the fervour of your kiss steals the breath from his lungs. “just the hot ones.”

your fingers knot in his curls and you give a gentle tug at the base of his hairline. a gasp against your mouth. “you, fuck- just you.”

in your attempt to get closer, your hand brushes ever-so-slightly across the newly inked skin of matty’s thigh and his sharp exhale hits you like a train.

“oh fuck me - do that again.”

“what?”

“please,” he pants.

your fingers dance experimentally over the bandage. you can feel the heat reverberating from his tender skin; even more so when you give in and apply the dull, spread-out pressure of your palm to the centre of his thigh.

like before, matty’s eyes screw shut and his hips buck toward the ceiling.

“you like the pain, is that it?”

his head falls forward to land on your shoulder and he groans, thighs twitching against leather. you can feel the heat radiating from his skin everywhere you touch now; red hot and pulsing like an exposed nerve.

you wait for him to surge forward - to grip your waist or pull you on top of him.

he never does. one hand is busy propping himself up and the other rests softly on your shoulder, tracing circles so soft they might as well not be there.

“do you get yourself off? afterwards?”

his shaky breath on the skin of your collarbone twists a hot coil of pleasure in your gut.

“fuckin’ hell- yes, yeah – sometimes.”

“did you do it last time? after our first session?”

he can’t or won’t answer, but you take his huffy silence as confirmation and can’t help the squeezing of your thighs.

“want me to do it instead?”

his answer is half breath and half moan. “please.”

as you shuffle closer and move for the waistband of his shorts, your heart does a little dance in your chest. you don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to get somebody off before, and you likely never will be again. maybe its all those lovely noises he’d been making, or maybe its the way he’s looking at you. not with greed or any desire to devour, but with something akin to reverence.

you pull him from his shorts and underwear quickly, and a moan rips through his entire body as you wrap your hand around him. a dam of pleasure, long restrained, seems to roll over him like a wave.

“jesus christ - fuck me; are y’ sure this is okay?”

his eyes are wide and panicky and the concern in his voice is genuine despite his desperation. it makes the dull heat between your thighs tingle and twitch.

better actions than words, you make sure matty’s watching and then dip a hand between your legs, up past your skirt and swipe at the wetness gathering in your underwear. hand slick with your own arousal, you wrap your hand back around the length of him and give him a single hard jerk, and a litany of curses spill from matty’s lips.

in the recesses of your mind, you find yourself thinking you could keep at him like this for hours; till he’s writhing and sobbing and hating you. it’s a thought for another time. you’re not that cruel, at least not today.

“got you nice and worked up in front of all those people, didn’t i?”

“fuck, darlin’, please-”

“want me to hurt you and then fuck it better?”

“g’na make me cum,” he whines breathlessly, and your desperate need to kiss him is stamped out by a desire to commit the sound to memory. again, you press down lightly over the plastic wrapped skin of his thigh.

he doesn’t let go of his bruising grip on your hipbone as he comes, and you don’t think twice before darting forwards and wrapping your mouth around the tip of him to let him spill down your throat. he’s whining and writhing around something pitiful the whole way through it.

you don't meet his eyes again for a good thirty seconds on account of them being scrunched shut in rapture, but when you do there’s a lovely little sheen of tears across them. his chest is heaving and sweat marks the spot where his palm had splayed across the leather.

in your move for the roll of paper towel at your feet, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“wanna come past mine next week and i can check out how you’re healing up?”

matty nods sweetly, still trying to settle his breathing.

“won’t be any needle foreplay. think you can manage?”

this time your words earn a toothy grin. his voice is rushed and rasping when he speaks, tugging you back in for another kiss.

“i'll make do.”

matty’s on the edge of your bed, breathing heavy around the feeling of your thighs bracketing his hips.

you’re being cruel, you know it. you’ve been kissing for upwards of twenty minutes and not one bit of clothing has come off, nor one hand dipping beyond a waistband. you’re being cruel but he’s so beautiful like this; sweaty and whining and gasping into your mouth.

“look at you,” you run your thumb gently over his cheek, watching as he leans into your touch.

“stuck a couple needles into your skin and now you're fucking gagging for it.”

there’s something glittering in his eyes, lust bright and teasing.

“was planning on making you gag for it, actually-”

you frown and smack him gently across the chest, ignoring the pit of flames in your stomach at the mental image.

“pervert.”

matty hums happily. he pauses to think for a moment before he speaks again, which you’ve come to notice is a rarity.

“‘f you’re gonna hit me, do it properly, hmm?”

“yeah?”

there’s a moment of silence where the space between you turns to molasses; hot and sticky and unmoving. and then you lean in and drag a finger across the line of his jaw, admiring the way his muscles go slack in response.

a sharp crack echoes around the room as the palm of your hand connects with his face. the sound of it hits you between the legs just as it does him. his mouth falls open in a wanton moan, cheek blooming pink, and his hips buck up hard against your centre.

as you push back down against him, another tumble of gasps and curses spill from his lips.

“wait, wait - fuck- hold on. let me get my mouth on you first, please? ‘s only fair.”

warmth blossoms in your chest and between your thighs. “yeah, alright.”

matty’s face splits into a sparkly grin. “sick, thank you.”

you’re flat on your back in seconds, hips flush to the bed while matty works at tugging off your jeans. it hits you in a shuddering breath, how easy he's manhandled you into position. the reminder serves to make every one of his reservations and submissions stand out with renewed passion; that he’s only ever letting you win when you shove him around - and he fucking loves it.

you’re pulled quickly from your thoughts by his own body hitting the bed, but your knee lands square centre in the middle of his chest. slowly, you nudge him backwards and down until his knees are buckling on the carpet, and then he understands. he pulls you to the edge of the bed with little more than a tug and slots your right leg over his shoulder.

all composure you’d been clinging to crumbles to ash as matty paws at your underwear and suckles at the heat of you through the fabric. the noise that rips from your throat is the first of anything resembling a moan he's heard out of you, and it seems to ignite something in the fervour of his actions.

he shifts his face upwards jerkily, eyes wide and lustful, and pushes your underwear to the side. without breaking eye contact, he rears back a little and spits messily at the apex of your thighs.

one of your hands flies upwards, fumbling for a blanket, a pillow - anything to hold on to, and the other plants itself firmly on his head.

you can tell from the sparkle in his eyes and the tone in his stupid voice how much fun he's having watching your reactions. when he speaks, his voice is laced with an amusement you’d like to smack right off.

“doin’ okay?”

you don’t dignify him with a response - just a light hum, and then you’re shoving matty’s head back between your legs. he gives a little kiss to your clit and your thighs involuntarily squeeze around his ears.

pleasure drips into your body as he kisses and suckles at you until there’s a moan lacing your every second breath. his thumb, deft and cruel, works tight circles at your clit in conjunction with his mouth. it’s so messy and intimate and he’s watching your every reaction with such dedication to your pleasure that you could cry. biting back a sob, you tangle your fingers harder into his curls.

just like that, he’s hurtling rapidly back into his own desperation.

“fuck-” he gasps out, reedy and rasping, and your head spins.

“pull m' hair, please-”

your knuckles tangle deep in his curls and you tug hard at the root. the feeling of his moans against you is arguably better than the sound.

one of his hands shifts suddenly from somewhere below, and you realise with a hot pang of pleasure that he’d been palming himself the whole time. his fingers land across the expanse of your stomach and tap. you glance down, confused, and his eyes flit back and forth between your free hand and his own. eyes growing blurry with mounting pleasure, you feel like you could catch on fire as you lace your fingers together and feel him squeeze.

he gets you there embarrassingly quick all things considered; stiffening and twitching against the hot, moaning mass of him between your legs. his mouth presses gentle against your hips and thighs as he waits for your breathing to settle.

only then do you let him clamber on top of you. he’s beautiful as ever but far too composed, you think, as he looks through you with a dopy grin. you want to make him cry. it’s a start, when he lets out a pitiful noise and nearly drops the full weight of himself on top of you as your hands wander downwards and squeeze him through denim.

“wanna fuck me now?”

“yes please.”

with a grin to match the one you’d just wiped from his own face, you wiggle out from underneath him and shrug off your top - flip onto your stomach on the other side of the bed.

his eyes jump between your exposed chest and your face in slight panic.

“wait - no, ‘wanna see your face, please.”

your heart swells something stupid, and you flip flop over to meet his eyes again.

"that’s better.” he's grinning again too, all sick and pretty. you find yourself inclined to agree.

he manoeuvres out of stupidly tight jeans that go flying across the room and then he’s on top of you again, sinking into you with one slow thrust and making a noise like he’s been stabbed.

“fuck - oh my god, i like you so much.”

you’re so far gone into dizzying affection that you forgo the teasing his words would have earned in any other circumstance. instead, you cup his cheek and mirror the sentiment; “really like you too, matty.”

he doesn’t answer, but you think he might be holding his breath.

he’s quick to set a pace that suits you both, glistening chest pressed flush to your own and one big hand on the side of your neck. he’s so warm and loud and suffocating; a mess of open mouthed kisses and wayward hair and you can’t decide if you want to pull him closer or push him away.

“matty, baby - fuck, you’re so good- gonna make me cum again.”

he tilts his head back and groans, and you mark at least three spots you’d like to sink your teeth into. your praise seems to spur him on further still; overriding the rolls of your hips with unforgiving thrusts and moaning hot into your mouth.

his thumb finds your clit again as he fucks into you and you lose yourself in the sensation, seeing bright white stars behind your eyes.

“you’re an angel,” he whispers, mouth pressed against your ear. “takin’ it so good.”

like the manhandling before, the offhanded, casual dominance of his words sends an electric shot of pleasure through your body as you fall apart. it’s all you can do to moan in response, clenching around him and fighting back tears.

when you get a good look at him again he’s fucking wrecked. his eyes are heavy lidded and his mouth is slick and hot on your chest, your neck; your chin. there’s something dark and begging in the shadows of his face.

“will you, fuck - please?”

you’re over-sensitive now, nerves pinched tight and limbs turning to jelly. still, you’re desperate to give him what he needs. “yeah, baby. what do you need?”

“‘m leg, my hair again - anything, please- fuck,”

you hum sweetly and grab his face between two fingers. his resounding whine is cut off by your other hand, pressing just so against the fresh ink on his thigh. “so greedy, honey. already letting you fuck me and that’s still not enough, huh? gotta make it hurt too?”

you push gently at his chest and he pulls you up with him, leaning back on his haunches and continuing to fuck into you, albeit slower now. you shuffle up onto your elbows and watch as his eyes flutter shut at the altered sensation.

“say thank you.”

“thank you, thank you-”

you cut him off with another sharp smack of your palm across his cheek.

his mouth falls open, brows knitted together and amber eyes turning to black, and then he’s pulling out and spilling all over your stomach with a litany of curses and shaking limbs. all the while he’s still chanting thank you and it’s a view from the dirtiest of your daydreams; your ink marking his thigh as he marks up your chest.

he’s gone quiet again in the moments that follow, as you clean yourself off and he falls face first into the pillows beside you. your hands tangle in his hair again, massaging gently at the places you’d assaulted on his scalp.

when he does speak, his voice is soft and wrecked and muffled by cotton.

“can’t ever let anyone else tattoo me now, y’know that? you’ve ruined it.”

when you roll him over for a kiss, it’s not hot and filthy like before or a quick punctuation to the sex, but slow and tender in a way that makes your heart thump in your chest.

"wouldn't let you even if you tried."

#matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy fic #i already made myself hate this a little bit so if u agree keep it to urself ❤️

139 notes · View notes

featguler · 1 day

Note

kylian relationship headcanon?

can i come over ? ────── just another episode of tenderness.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. ♡ ────── wordcount : 667 ♡ ────── notes : posting this one as a good luck token for the france vs netherlands game!! ily kylian. i try to not just write the happy parts of the relationship but also the hurdles you two might face? i might do more of these since i've got some ideas still :^) (quick disclaimer: since these are headcanons of real people, i'd like to emphasize that if you do not agree with any of the things i write, please kindly click off the post). title is from cool dry place by katy kirby ♡ masterlist.

Kylian Mbappé. Every single person on the Earth knows his name. But you especially—how could you not? When he doesn’t have his eyes on a football game, or his legs on a football field, he has them on you.

Hand on your knee at every single group dinner, behind your neck at every hangout with friends; his skin is always in contact with yours at every single second.

Touchy does not even begin to describe him.

If it were up to him, he would drag you to the changing room and have you sit between his legs—but no, it is not up to him.

Well, mostly because he doesn’t want to be the one that brings the elephant into the room, but also it is so bad that other people are beginning to think of you as a nuisance.

“Mbappé can’t keep his hands off his partner,” a tabloid once wrote, and it only took a few quote retweets from some Parc des Princes employees, heavily agreeing, for it to go viral.

“Sorry,” you once said to a manager, then to a janitor, then to a teammate, Kylian trailing quietly behind you, arms around your waist.

And he gets sooo whiny if you push him away—what’s worse than losing a match? His dramatic ass would say that it’s having you steer away from his touches!

“Kylian,” you whine on the couch, pushing his face away as he tries to kiss you for the hundredth time that hour. “Please, I’m trying to watch a film here.”

“Mhm,” He pouts, arms around your back, hoping that you’d look at him. He looks at you, his chin on your chest before sighing. “You hate me right? Be honest.”

“Please,” you say again, eyes never leaving the television, “you can kiss me all you want the moment the movie ends.”

He tends to avoid. You’ve known him for so long, and you are at the point where you would almost forgive him for the amount of issues that have simmered too long in both of your discontent.

But you don’t do that. No. You see forever with this man, right? So you sit him down and talk.

You’ve got to admit that Kylian has gotten so, so much better in recent years.

He used to flee at every problem—it’s not that he has trouble expressing his emotions, it’s that he has trouble being vulnerable.

“You’re doing this again,” you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Kylian won’t look you in the eyes. “I’m sick of this.”

“Come on,” Kylian tries reaching a hand over the table to you—well, if he’s going to ignore you, you sure as hell are going to ignore him too. “Look at me, we don’t have to talk about this right now.”

“Right,” you huff out, letting out a sarcastic laugh, “so when are we going to talk about this.”

Kylian stays quiet.

Kylian likes luxurious things; and he likes you. The same thing, really, in his eyes. A priceless watch and your priceless kiss—this is the kind of luxury a man like him can only dream of.

He goes all the way for his show of love, of course! He customises everything he owns with your initials.

Once, he somehow left his passport in the airport, and what got people into talking was not his passport, but your initials embroidered on its leather cover.

The strap of his duffel bag is changed into a shade of your favourite colour, your initials and his sewn together under it—it does not stop there! A gold plated lapel pin with your name on it becomes a staple on every single suit he wears; socks with your initials when cuffed; matching bracelets he only takes off before practice and matches.

He makes sure the camera flashing on his face gets it: he’d pose in a certain angle, throw his scarf over his shoulders in a certain way.

Even when you’re not there, he still loves showing you off!

#໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა : 𝑬𝑼𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑨 𝑺𝑶𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑨 #kylian mbappe #mbappe #mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x reader #real madrid #real madrid x reader #real madrid fic #football fic #football x reader #kylian mbappé

82 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 1 day

Note

hello good people who guard this library ✨✨

thank you for your work, it has helped me find many fics I love that I'd probably never find on my own

I recently read a fic called rude awakening:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243762

where some people from the discreet gentlemen's club are trying to figure out what the deal is with Aziraphale, and some of them even try flirting with him, until Crowley shows up and they realise "oh, he's taken"

I know my request is extremely specific but, do you know if there's any similar fics of people flirting with either Aziraphale or Crowley until the other one shows up and they realise they never stood a chance

Hi! Here are a few fics sort of along these lines...

nothing can get a look in on my baby by midnightdragons (T)

Aziraphale stood, then (using a miracle to ensure that his and Crowley’s table remained open and clean), and turned back towards the demon, slightly distracted as he made sure to disappear from Mr. Brown’s sight with a brief sigh of relief — a sigh that was quickly cut off as he was greeted with something much worse than the posh, stuffy carpet-store owner. Crowley was leaning against the bar counter, slightly slanted in his position as he craned away from a man who was much, much too close to him, enough that the demon would’ve been able to feel the heat of his breath on his face.

An alternate scene of sorts. Aziraphale is the one to rescue Crowley from someone at the bar, with just a touch of angelic possessiveness; after all, no one hurts his demon.

Just be yourself by Mimisempai (G)

Aziraphale gets the impression that Crowley enjoyed their last visit to the pub and suggests that they return one night. What he didn't expect was that this time the situation would be reversed, and someone would take his place in front of Crowley, and he would feel this all-consuming jealousy...

Saturday Night in Soho by Zeckarin (T)

Kait simply wants to have a few drinks, and hopefully get lucky and bring someone home. There's a cute man with pale hair reading in the corner booth. What could go wrong?

A Devil's Touch by untimelysteph (T)

“Why did it bother you, angel?” Crowley asked with as much gentleness as he could muster so he didn't spook him. Aziraphale looked ready to bolt out of the shop at any moment. “Because, well, because, he didn’t ask, first of all, and no one should touch you without your express permission. And, for that matter, he isn’t worthy of touching you. No one is.” The angel was properly worked up now, his hands flailing animatedly as he continued, “That is to say, well, that I suppose I’m just not used to seeing you being touched like that. By… by other people. That, um, are not me.”

Just Kidding…..Unless? by Aziwaphale (T)

Crowley wasn't jealous that Aziraphale was getting hit on by that barista. And he certainly wasn't jealous when he found them talking at the bookstore. So why did he pretend that he was dating Aziraphale just to make him go away?

Trivial Pursuits by gildthelilli (T)

“Here’s some Wilde for you,” said Josh, sliding his hand upwards. “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”...Josh’s hand was at the crease of Aziraphale’s thigh. It gave a rough squeeze. Oh. Oh no. “No, really, I’m flattered, but I don’t -“ Aziraphale was starting to get desperate. Some excuse. Anything to shake this human off. His heart was beating fast, his hands began to tremble. “I think you do,” leered Josh. “Look at you. Don’t resist, Zira. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.” “Joshua, I am not interested, you insufferable man…” Aziraphale trailed off as he looked around, frantic now. He looked to the bar, where a man – or something man-shaped in tight black pants - was pocketing his wallet and grabbing the bottle of scotch from the counter. Aziraphale swallowed, watching as Crowley began to make his way back over to the table. “I have a boyfriend,” blurted Aziraphale. ---- Aziraphale and Crowley go drinking at pub trivia when a man from another team takes an interest in Aziraphale. Crowley is not impressed. Shenanigans ensue.

And the one you mentioned...

Rude Awakening by Nonesensed (M)

Crowley disappears for close to a century and then comes sauntering back into Aziraphale's life, nearly bringing about a riot as he does. Aziraphale is suitably miffed.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #protective aziraphale #protective crowley #flirting #jealous aziraphale #jealous crowley #getting together #mod d

66 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 2 hours

Note

Okay after many many thoughts I think I've got it!

Barty showing up to the gryffindor quidditch after party (cause James and Sirius are great players and know what they're doing) bloody and bruised cause he overheard some butthurt slytherins talking shit about James and their girl. And he wasn't gonna let that slide.

I'm not sure if it's clear, but this is in regards to the darksun x reader were talking about yesterday 😅

oooooooof ok.......*throws this at you all and runs* NEW SHIP ALERT: I'm new to this, be nice to me hahahahaha

poly!darksun x fem!reader at a bloody Gryffindor afterparty

CW: Barty shows up bloody and bruised but he's chuffed about it, reader won't stop slapping Peter [it's not that serious], Sirius is not that serious -> pairing = james potter x reader x barty crouch jr

It had been perhaps only 25 minutes since the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw game ended and the afterparty in Gryffindor tower was already in full swing.

And what Remus meant by full swing was that Sirius was literally swinging from the chandelier, Marlene and Lily were challenging one another to a game of ‘who could spin the most times without getting sick’ (which Remus felt was a game that everyone was going to lose), and you and Peter were halfway through a very intense muggle card game called slap which did indeed involve slapping and, apparently, swearing and trash talk.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Peter muttered as he rubbed the back of his hands dejectedly.

“Gonna have to be faster than that, Wormy.” You taunted as you collected his pile of cards.

“Oi, if she has so much as one welt on the back of her hand, Pete; there will be hell to pay.” James called as he came up behind you.

You turned to look at James then, and Remus was sure your smile was nearly blinding in your excitement and energy if James’ lovesick look was anything to go by.

“Yeah, yeah Prongs; she’s sodding winning by a landslide anyways, no need to get your knickers in a twist.” Peter muttered (rather petulantly for only having lost a round of a silly card game if you asked Remus).

“I don’t think it’s Prongs you have to worry about, my dear Wormy.” Sirius called from his new home in the chandelier, nodding towards the entrance as Barty stepped through the portrait hole.

Remus watched as both you and James seemed to melt now that your third was here. He knew that it hadn’t been easy persuading Barty to participate in such “Gryffindorian displays of pompous pride” as he had called it, but you had somehow been able to convince him to celebrate the team’s wins if not only for James’ sake.

And, as Sirius would pretend, maybe a little bit for his sake as well. Remus didn’t have the heart (nor the patience) to tell him that was a fat chance.

“I’m not afraid of Junior.” Pete muttered darkly as he watched you reset the game in front of them.

“Circe’s tits…perhaps you should be, Pete.” Sirius bit out through a grimace, causing the group to all turn their attention to the Slytherin boy.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure what the Slytherin practice was when getting ready for a celebratory quidditch afterparty, but based on Barty’s current state, it seemed that ritual consisted of at least one first fight with a particularly angry hippogriff.

“What happened?” You nearly shrieked as you abandoned your card game and you and James made for your boyfriend.

Barty let out a breath before he broke out into a smile. “Sorry I’m late! Had to take care of something on my way here.”

Remus was sure that the way Barty was grinning at the two of you had to be horribly painful for the busted lip he was currently sporting as his teeth quickly turned a pinky/red colour.

“And what were you taking care of? A graphorn?” James asked incredulously as you guided Barty to a stool in order to fuss over him.

“Don’t be daft, James. There’s no graphorns in Hogwarts.” Barty waved him off, eyes moving to you as you assessed his face.

“Who did you run into, Barty?” You pressed; voice taking a no-nonsense tone that had Peter and Remus sharing a nervous look.

“Just some Ravenclaws who were a little disappointed by the end of today’s match, is all.” He offered happily; pulling you closer towards him from where you were standing between his legs by the back of your thighs, watching you adoringly as you summoned a cloth to dab at his lip.

“That’s all, is it?” You deadpanned, clearly not buying his story.

“I hardly think you were too fussed over some comment about quidditch scores, Barty.” James chided lovingly.

“Of course I did! I love quidditch.” Barty spat defensively.

“Yeah, but you hate the Gryffindor team.” Sirius called from his chandelier.

“That’s not true! I’m shagging the captain for Salazar’s sake.”

“Okay, well…maybe don’t shout that?” You muttered as you looked around in embarrassment, earning a bark of laughter from James as he rubbed your shoulders consolingly.

“I don’t know, bubs; I don’t see you risking showing up late and bloody over discourse on match scores.” James continued, clearly finding this more amusing than you were as you angrily cast a glacius on a cup and held it to Barty’s jaw which was quickly purpling in colour.

“Okay, perhaps they said a few other things; it’s no big deal.” Barty offered dismissively, though Remus (and likely you and James) noticed the way that his grip seemed to strengthen on your thighs at his admission.

“Yeah? Like what?” You encouraged.

Barty let out a defeated sigh as he finally turned his gaze to you. “You know I don’t like people talking about you; either of you.” He admitted quietly.

You shook your head in disappointment but let out a sympathetic sigh.

“Wait, what’d they say about our girl?” James said then, craning his neck around you in order to look at Barty pointedly.

“It doesn’t matter Jamie! It appears he’s already taken care of it, yeah?” You hissed as you swatted at him with the cloth that you had been tending to Barty with.

James quickly caught the end of the cloth and used it to pull you into him, planting a smacking kiss to your face.

“I did take care of it!” Barty repeated excitedly. “Can I have a kiss?” He asked sweetly, smiling at you expectantly as you rubbed James’ kiss off of your cheek.

“Absolutely not.” You grumbled as you ignored his disbelieving scoff.

“Why not!?” He cried out as you stepped out from between his legs.

“Barty, I am not rewarding you for bad behaviour.” You declared as you plopped yourself down in front of Peter again, ordering him to reset your card game.

James quickly looked between the two of you before stepping between Barty’s legs to give him his own kiss.

“You are such a simp, James Potter.” Remus taunted under his breath as to not alert you to your boyfriend currently enabling your other boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah; laugh it up now. But I get to watch you try to wrestle Pads out of the chandelier later, so I don’t think you have a leg to stand on, Moons.”

“He can sleep up there tonight, for all I care.” Remus muttered petulantly as he crossed his arms.

Sirius wouldn’t sleep up there tonight; Remus knew it, James knew, Sirius knew it, likely the whole bloody school knew it. But Remus would pretend he wasn’t as big a simp as James Potter, at least a little bit longer, in order to preserve what little superiority he held for the time being.

62 notes · View notes

fulltacs · 2 days

Text

fuck it. free the blocklist.

tw for ableism, death threats, cw for general rage-inducing behavior

this is not exhaustive, this is a starting point. BLOCK these people, do not interact.

- literally anyone who interacts with @/ladygoth at this point. I don’t doubt that she and her friends are responsible for at least half of the hate anons received by darkfic writers

- as for the people who were “protecting” codslut/Myka… they’ve all been in my notifs liking my update post and un-liking sheheals post and deleting anything they might’ve said on the situation. yay, I guess. I may have unblocked you, but the other nosy people following everything certainly didn’t.

- on a related note, anyone who goes by “Myka” or “Hannah” gets blocked ON SIGHT (half-joking). I don’t care if that’s your name (please don’t put your real name on the internet) you better make up a new one 😤

- /bookobsessedram, /mothymunson, @starry-eyedblog , /ghostsbimbo, @ghostlywhiskey and @ghostly-whiskey, and @ladyxtiger were all involved in being assholes in the discord as seen here. not pictured: /bjornthebearguy and /notspiders. and i’m sorely disappointed in /bunnyreaper, as mod, for letting them continue to chase people off, even though it had been brought to their attention before.

AND ESPECIALLY @simonrillleyyysss and @simonrillleyyyysss2 and @joostyklein (all their known alts). As a matter of fact, fuck everyone who’s friends with them (including /konigsblog). Jordi, G***, whatever the fuck you’re going by, I am so fucking sick of seeing your name in my DMs. So many people messaged me to say it was you and your gang’s hateful behavior that drove them away from the fandom, and I can vouch for some of them because I was there the whole time. What the fuck is wrong with you guys. I have a hard time believing your apology means ANYTHING when you used the discord to lead a brigade on Bo back in January, and CLEARLY HAVEN’T STOPPED being an asshole since then (“I still don’t like soapskneebrace either way”). Bo and Madi were not your only victims, again, there were quite a few others who came forward. You bullied anyone who disagreed with you and at the end of the day you only care about your follower count.

The craziest part is that most of the people we watched you bully are open about their autism diagnosis. And this was just a casual observation I made, not even an accusation, but five minutes later you make your first-ever very casual not-at-all-sus claim of having autism.

do you think we were born fucking yesterday. Trying to get ahead of ableism accusations by suddenly claiming to be autistic, even if true, is not gonna have the effect you thought it would, cause I wasn’t the only person who clocked that as WEIRD. (Internalized ableism is still ableism, btw.)

Just shut the fuck up. For once. It’s THAT SIMPLE. Leave everyone alone. Make your little posts without feeling the need to be assholes to other people.

Fun fact: I have received no death or rape threats in my anon mail, and maybe that’s because I’m not a very big blog. Or maybe it’s cause I know what all your fucking faces look like (hello, internet safety where?). I said fuck all y’all yesterday and I stand by that. Hopefully your time here is met with the same amount of love you’ve shown your peers.

#it’s always been about love and hate now let me just say-#okay. i’m done now.#cod discourse #fandom meta #cod #call of duty

60 notes · View notes

redflagshipwriter · 3 days

Text

Halfa Cass Chapter 6 part 2/2

Masterpost

‘Ouch,’ Tim thought gleefully as Bruce got his constipated expression. Damian was definitely pretending he thought it was admirable to frighten hapless Justice League niceguys. Damian knew better now. Damian even liked Jon Kent, who was basically like a tiny Captain Marvel.

Bruce really should know that. Tim could see the calculations whirring in his mind, weighing the odds of Damian being genuine.

He knew that Damian was a lot better now. That Damian had promised not to stab anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. That Damian had made friends and was less hostile to outsiders.

Bruce wasn’t confident enough that Damian knew better. He gave in. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” Bruce said sullenly. He stabbed at his breakfast.

‘You just got played by a ten year old.’

“Thank you Daddy,” Cass chirped.

Ah well, that’s it then. Game, set, and match. Bruce lifted his face enough to aim his watery i love my kids eyes at her.

Tim left the table without comment. He quietly thanked Alfred on his way out and gave a nod to Cass. Bruce was still glaring at his eggs. He’d be at it for a while, churning through the current state of his children’s social development and the relative healthiness of his personal relationships with Justice League coworkers.

‘I wonder why Cass cares about Marvel,’ Tim wondered idly. He didn’t have the slightest hint of doubt in her assertion. If Cass said that Bruce was too harsh for Marvel, then it was true. Marvel must be sensitive. But that didn’t mean Cass would interfere to protect a grown man from her dad’s growly temper. Maybe she had a crush? Marvel was pretty good-looking, if you were sick enough to be into hunky men with perfect teeth who were never rude to anyone and appeared to have no dark past. Sort of like crushing on that one cartoon surfer in the juice ads…

It was a minor puzzle piece that Tim tucked away for another time.

He hung out in his room until it was time to get ready. Then Tim jogged down the stairs to the Batcave, humming under his breath.

Jason of all the people was already there, scowling at the screen.

“Why are you up?” Tim asked. Didn’t he usually, sleep off half the day after a long patrol? Jason had been on the long shift last night.

Tim got a massively shitty expression from Jason in return. “Patrol ended hours ago, dipstick. I’ve already slept.”

‘Those under eye circles say otherwise,’ Tim thought judgmentally. But he just shrugged. “Fair enough.” He breezed past to open up his equipment locker.

“What are you doing?” Jason spun his chair around to watch. “Are you meeting Cass?”

Tim blinked. “No?” He unhooked his undersuit and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He went to toss it in and then thought better of it. Tim conscientiously folded it so that there were no asshole comments from the peanut gallery. “Why do you ask?”

Jason thumbed at the cameras. “Because she’s leaving. Just got her green jacket from the living room.” He jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t know of anything on her schedule today.”

Huh. Tim stopped mid-motion. “There wasn’t anything on the master calendar,” he said slowly. He gave Jason a sideways look. “What are the odds of you following her?”

Jason looked tempted. “She’ll be mad if she notices me.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. It was just the truth. “But she’ll know you’re doing it because you’re worried about it, so she can’t get too mad. She got electrocuted yesterday. I’m not really sure she should be out unsupervised.”

Jason’s whole face twitched. “Yeah.”

‘Ah,’ Tim realized. ‘He already read her report. That’s probably why he came in.’

“You’re going to Amity.” Jason said it like it was an order, not a question. Tim nodded anyway and shucked his sweatpants. He started pulling on the sweat-wicking undersuit. “Yeah, alright.” Jason stood up with a scrape of the chair. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the best there’s ever been,” Tim lied earnestly. “I really appreciate it. I know that everyone else would say-”

“You’re a dick,” Jason said, and left the batcave quickly before Tim could say anything else nice to him.

Tim felt a lot better about leaving Gotham after that conversation. Jason was a huge angry clucking mother hen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Cass. And Tim could be useful at the source of the problem without his attention split in worrying.

He clicked on his comms and switched to the YJ frequency. “Red Robin is on.”

The line clicked. “Wondergirl is here,” Cassie said happily. “You’re welcome, peons. I’m in the air already.”

“We’ll owe you forever, princess,” Kon snarked. “When can we kiss your boots?”

“You can kiss my a-”

“No chatter on the comms.” Tim typed up the mission start and sent it to the right file, marking that he was taking the jet. “I’ll see you in Amity.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #red halfa cass

56 notes · View notes

clangenrising · 8 hours

Text

Month 16 - Greenleaf

When Aldertail had volunteered to go herb gathering with him, Oddstripe had been delighted but he had definitely expected her to get tired and lose interest by this point. The day was hot but there was a nice breeze and, as they meandered the territory looking for patches that hadn’t already been harvested, Oddstripe couldn’t help but smile.

“Y’know, I’d really love to find some thyme or juniper,” he said, hopping over a stone in his path.

“What do those do?” Aldertail asked, carefully picking her way after him. Her legs were the best he’d ever seen them. There was almost no redness and the fur had nearly grown back in. Oddstripe was so proud.

“Thyme is very calming and juniper berries are just all around useful. On top of being calming, they soothe belly aches, help with coughs, and they can even treat aching joints when mixed with the proper herbs. I’d love to get some for Sagetooth.”

Aldertail’s ears pressed back briefly. “Mm, would that help?”

“Oh, yes,” Oddstripe nodded. “When she isn’t suffering from her aches, she’s really, actually very kind. It can just be hard for her to stay that way when she’s in a lot of pain.”

“I guess,” Aldertail shrugged. “I feel like you don’t just start being mean to people though, if that makes sense.”

“I get what you mean,” said Oddstripe, “but something you have to remember is that your body and your mind aren’t two separate entities. They’re both you and they influence each other.” Aldertail winced in an attempt to seem less skeptical. Oddstripe laughed a little and tried to think of a better way to explain. “Oh, for example, when your mind starts to run wild, you feel sick to your stomach right?”

“Yeah,” Aldertail nodded.

“So that’s your mind influencing your body!” Oddstripe grinned. “But the inverse is also possible. Like, if you’re very scared, we do those deep breaths and the act of calming your body calms your mind.” Aldertail hummed thoughtfully. “So when Sagetooth’s body aches it makes it harder for her to control the way she speaks to people. You’re right that it doesn’t make her something she isn’t but it’s also not entirely her choice. Even I can get snappy when I’m stressed or ill.”

“Really?” Aldertail didn’t seem convinced. “I can’t picture you snappy.”

Oddstripe blushed and laughed as he replied, “Oh, that’s very sweet of you.”

“It’s true,” she said. “You’ve only ever been kind and gentle.”

“Well, I’ve been lucky that I’ve never felt ill enough to snap at you,” he said, full of pride.

“Mm,” Aldertail chewed her lip. “So where would we find juniper berries?”

“Hmm,” Oddstripe scrunched up his face in thought. “I know a place they’ll definitely be but its a bit of a distance. Would you still want to come along?”

“Of course!” she nodded vigorously. “I like learning about medicine.”

“Really?” asked Oddstripe.

“Mhm,” nodded Aldertail. “It’s so… powerful. I can’t imagine being able to do what you do.”

“Oh, it’s really not that hard to learn,” Oddstripe said, changing course. “I’ll show you.”

As they made their way towards the juniper bushes, Oddstripe went over all of the basics he could think of. Healing was something he was intensely passionate about and Aldertail indulged him in his ramblings for the entirety of their walk. Oddstripe couldn’t remember the last time someone had let him ramble like this. It felt amazing.

They crossed the eastern border and Oddstripe assured Aldertail that everything would be alright. Eventually, the grass petered out and the earth beneath their paws turned to dry, sunbaked mud patterned with cracks and ridges. Oddstripe smiled at the feeling of it under his paws. It had been too long since he’d stepped foot in the desert and he had missed it. They passed little burrows and scurrying lizards and dry looking shrubs and then finally came across the big juniper bush.

“Tada!” Oddstripe declared, unfurling his tail towards the cloudless sky.

“This is a juniper bush?” Aldertail asked, glancing around its leaves as if something would jump out.

“Mhm!” he purred. “The berries near the bottom are usually gone because creatures eat them but we can jump up and snag a few branches to take home. Maybe we could even plant one closer to the territories.”

“That would be a good idea,” Aldertail squirmed. “I don’t like this place.”

“Really?” asked Oddstripe, tilting his head.

“Yeah, it’s too open,” she shuddered. “Let’s hurry up and go home.”

“Alright,” he frowned worriedly. He’d never considered that someone might not enjoy being able to see the world stretch out endlessly around them. He bunched his legs underneath him and sprang into the bush, but failed to grab onto any of the branches. “Mousedung. Let me try again.”

He jumped again, this time snagging a branch in his teeth, and his weight pulled it down to a place where Aldertail could help him snap it off. He handed the branch over to her and tried again. The leaves rattled as he fell through them, this time taking another two tries before he caught another branch in his claws. It nearly slipped and he had to scramble to clamp his jaws down around it, smearing berry juice all over his muzzle.

“Are you okay?” asked Aldertail.

“Uh huh,” he said awkwardly. “‘Ah you ‘reah ih?”

“Oh, right! Sorry!” Aldertail hurried forward to start chewing through the branch.

“S’alrigh’,” he chuckled, feeling silly. She met his eyes and flushed pink, quickly averting her gaze to focus on her work. He laughed again. She was such a sweetheart.

A voice startled them both. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

Aldertail squeaked and flattened herself against the ground. Oddstripe tried to turn around but struggled to do so without letting go of the branch which didn’t occur to him at all. The cat who had spoken, thankfully, stepped to the side into his view. She was a plain looking grey tabby with bright, golden eyes, and she was watching them with an expression that read to Oddstripe as professional.

“Oh, sahhy,” he tried to say around the branch in his teeth.

A small smile poked at the edges of the stranger’s lips and she glanced carefully at Aldertail before asking, “Would you like a paw?”

“Mm!” Oddstripe grinned and nodded clumsily. “Mhm!”

The stranger chuckled softly, dropping her gaze to her paws for a moment, before she stepped up and swatted the branch where Aldertail had been chewing it. The force of the blow was enough to snap it and Oddstripe stumbled away as the rest of the branch sprang noisily back into place. Aldertail squeaked again, and scrunched herself closer to his side.

He laid his tail over her back, dropped the branch, and then licked his muzzle before speaking. “Thank you! I really appreciate the help. My name’s Oddstripe, what’s yours.”

“Oscar,” the she-cat smiled with a polite dip of her head. “I’m glad to be of assistance but I really must urge you to leave this place.”

“Oh?” asked Oddstripe, ears perking. “What for?”

“This is coyote territory,” she said, scanning the area with a sharp gaze. “You aren’t safe here.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize the coyotes had come so far west,” Oddstripe said.

“You live here?” asked Oscar, brow furrowing.

“No, no, but I used to live near here,” he said. “Now I’m out in the grasslands.”

“I see,” Oscar nodded. “Well, I must insist you return home, for your own safety.”

“We will, thank you,” smiled Oddstripe.

Oscar glanced around again and said, “Should you require an escort, I would be happy to oblige.”

“I don’t think it would hurt,” Oddstripe said. “Aldertail, honey, is that alright with you?” Aldertail simply shrugged, eyes wide enough to show the whites.

Oddstripe’s ears drooped in pity. “Oh, you poor thing. Here, let’s head back to camp.” He licked her cheek and helped her stand, then handed her one of the juniper sprigs to carry. Having something in her mouth would keep her occupied, he thought. Picking up his own branch, he glanced at Oscar and said, “It’s just this way.”

“I follow your lead,” she deferred with a bow of the head. Oddstripe blushed, a silly little flutter dancing in his stomach. Something about her seemed right out of a story. He’d never felt that way before.

Shrugging it off, he led the way, tail wrapped around Aldertail’s leg reassuringly. She stayed close to his side, ears flat against her skull, and Oscar stayed on the opposite side of him, at least two tail lengths away. Oddstripe wanted to walk closer but the distance was probably best for Aldertail. How considerate of their new companion, he thought.

“So, Oscar,” he asked, able to speak around the sprig this time, “why are you out here in coyote country?”

“I’m patrolling,” she said. “I look for creatures like you and give them the warning.”

“Creatures?” Oddstripe chuckled but Oscar nodded seriously.

“Yes. Anything I can speak to. Cats, deer, snakes, most birds.”

“Wow!” Oddstripe marveled. “That’s amazing! I didn’t realize you could talk to those kinds of things.”

“It’s simple if you have a teacher,” said Oscar humbly.

“It seems most things are,” laughed Oddstripe.

It wasn’t long before they reached the edge of the grass again. Oscar stopped under a scrubby little tree and said. “I should return to my patrol. Will you be able to get home from here?”

“Oh, yes,” nodded Oddstripe. “Thank you so much, Oscar, it was lovely to meet you.”

She shook her head. “I’m simply doing my duty.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” said Oddstripe. She smiled, dipped her head in a polite bow, and then turned and bounded back into the desert. Oddstripe watched her go like he was trying to catch every last moment of her before she disappeared forever. Eventually, her shape disappeared into the shimmering edge of the horizon.

“Oddstripe?” asked Aldertail quietly.

“Oh,” he blinked and looked down at her. “Yes, dear?”

“I’d like to go home, is that okay?”

“Oh, of course it is,” he said, “let’s go home.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, that’s alright. Sorry I got distracted.”

“What was her deal?” Aldertail asked, craning her head to see if she could spot Oscar in the distance.

“I don’t know,” Oddstripe breathed softly, doing the same.

#clangenrising #clangen #clan gen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Oddstripe #Aldertail #Oscar #Greenleaf

47 notes · View notes