#because i sure as shit still dont know how to draw clothes well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wd-ghosty · 24 days

Text

Chapter 1 - Resurrection

Haiii! It's me again bringing you more fics, this is chapter 1 of Ophelia's backstory.

TW!!!- Mid writing

It’s 3:45 am, and I’m in a dark room illuminated by fluorescent light, from screens surrounding my bed. I linked up to all these tubes, I’m constantly getting shots, my mind has been infiltrated by that wretched beating sound coming from the heart monitor. I dont know how I got here, I remember being at the beach with my friends, we got on a boat with a bunch of guys we didn’t know, I think we got drunk. And after that, all I can remember is a splashing sound and I stopped breathing…

did I mention I can’t swim?

- - - - - - - - - - - -- -- --- ---- ----- -------- ----- ---- ------ ---- -----

I grew up with three older brothers they all had their own interests but one of them went through a ninja/samurai phase, and I watched all those shows with him, Ninjago, Randy Cunningham, and Power Rangers Samurai, but my favorite was the one about the turtles.

They had a very passionate fanbase one i was a part of, I made so much fan art, and OCs hell one of my OCs was an obvious self-insert. Well she didn’t really look like me, she was tall, thin, pretty, the most confident person you’d ever meet, she would always be that one person people would go to if they had a problem, she was adored by everyone and hated by those envious of her. Nothing like me at all, I dont stand out in a crowd, I try my best to blend into the background I want to be almost invisible. Hell, she basically is an OC because she’s not one bit like me, comparing the two of us is an insult to her perfect being.

I made her so I could draw fanart of her and Donnie. Stupid right? I would draw the two of them in situations I imagine the two of us in. We’d go shopping together, and I’d give him the montage he deserved in the clothes dont make the turtle, in rise. I’d always be by his side willingly, helping him with anything he needed, in 2012. In the bay-movies, I thought I'd be the owner of his favorite cafe, and I'd always stay in late to make him whatever pastry I thought he’d want that day, and a coffee. When I got the finished product I was so happy sure I couldn’t let anyone see it out of embarrassment, but I was so proud of them.

Hmm… the beating is starting to slow down, and I hear a bunch of people running into the room, I think I’m gonna die. This reminds me of a short comic I made, Ophelia was assassinated by whatever villain and Donnie completely lost it. I wonder if he’d lose it if he knew I was seconds away from dea- everyone stopped talking and an irritating ringing sound replaced the beating.

“Ladies and gentlemen we are now landing in Manhattan New York, please get your bags from the overhead compartments, collect all your things, and thank you for flying with us.”

I rub my eyes open and get up from my seat. “I just had the weirdest dream ever. I was some random girl and I drowned to death, I think?” I take the two suitcases from the overhead compartment, and hand Nasir his.

“You have dreams of drowning all the time, yet you still go to the beach and crash into waves ten thousand feet taller than you. At this point, you’re seeing the future.” Nasir is one of my best friends, and also one of the most useful people I know. If you have a problem with somebody, just tell him and he’ll dig up some shit that’ll ruin their life.

“Oh my god, are you saying I’m psychic!?”

“No I’m saying you’re stupid, Stop standing there and move so we can get off this plane.”

Scoff, “Whatever, I can tell the future.”

“Your delusions cloud the part of you that's actually worth having, common we have to go before the Uber leaves us.”

Oh, I don’t think I properly introduced myself. My name is Ophelia Mafuta Chenett, you might ask “Why did you tell us your full name?” and my answer to that is, that's what the villaness does in every manhwa when they introduce themselves so that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m a soon-to-be freshman at Manhattan Institution of the Arts, (It’s not a real school) After passing the entrance exam I moved across the country to pursue my passion of becoming a fashion designer. Sounds stupid right? Doesn’t it sound like I'm some quirky girl from a 2010’s show? Well, I’m kinda going for that, as the main character of this world I have to keep up my spirits and believe that I can do whatever I want and even live in one of the most expensive cities in this godforsaken country. Oh, I’m also 17 years old, and my birthday is coming up soon so I'm basically 18, other facts about me, I'm from southern California, I have three older siblings, I’m 5’9 but basically 6’2 when I put my shoes on, into alt fashion, and I’m really big on video games especially when they’re story driven. Well, I think that’s it, you guys can just follow along on my journey to become… well, ME, aka perfection. XOXO byyyy!

“Please dont tell me you’re talking to your fictional 1audience again.” Nas slumped into his seat side eyeing you.

“They’re very much real I’ll have you know” She rolls her eyes at him and puts on her headphones.

“Drug addicts are probably so jealous of you, you dont need pills to get high off your ass, you were just born like that. You’re most definitely a crack baby.”

The two of them expected to get to their destinations rather quickly but, the traffic was honestly something that crawled out of the ninth ring of hell. Nasir got accepted into Princeton so he was especially irritated by the traffic. And Ophie got to campus two hours late but still managed to register and get settled in her dorm.

“Well it’s nice to know that all my stuff got here without issue.” then her phone started ringing, she got off her bed to check who called and her heart dropped. “Telli! Please dont tell me you left early, I'll hate it if you left early!”

“Nice to talk to you too Ophe, and no. I’m still in the lair because your plan landed hours ago and you haven't texted called or posted about it, so I knew after you got M.I.A. you’d unpack, and then pass out. We’re meeting tomorrow,”

“Oh… well that's embarrassing. It’s nice to talk to you again Telli, I've been so busy lately I forgot when we spoke last.” She flops onto the bed and gets under her pillows.

“Yesterday, at 5:45 am before when you were getting ready for your flight at 10”

“I’ll have you know I'm African, we usually leave ten hours before a flight, my mom was rushing me out of the house. And I find it shocking someone who’s never left the CITY is talking shit about me.”

“I've been to Tahiti before, what other countries have you been to?” she can feel the sassiness of his bum-ass eyebrows through the screen.

“OH let me correct myself. I CAN’T believe that someone who has never been to an airport IN HIS LIFE is talking about me.” She can hear him laughing his ass off through the phone, “So I think I win”

“No, I’m letting you off the hook. See you tomorrow Ophe.”

“By Tell, kiss kiss.”

She hung up the phone and rolled on her back staring at the ceiling. “Hmm… I’m an adult now. No more mom, no more siblings, just me. AAAH!” She screamed in join and kicked her feet. She hopped off her bed and dug through her bag to find her laptop, camera, and ring light. After clicking record she gets in position. “Ehem. You hear that watchers I’m a grown-ass woman now! and you hoes better prepare for Escapism season 8, watch me as I live out my college dreams! This is gonna be amazing, you know looking past all the exams and homework. Yeah, I know now I’m not special, I'm surrounded by other talented people. But I’m the MC, I’m better than them by default, and I’m special in general, all those current fashion designers that slap a print of a t-shirt and call it a day won't survive here. I have to watch out for the people who actually make their garments, but being able to sew doesn’t mean they’re a good designer and I’m BOTH. Everyone else on my wave length will become an ally or an enemy, but I crush all those who oppose me under the heel of my platform red bottoms rest assured. Well, that’s all for now bitches, see ya!”

She turns off her camera and gets back on her feet, “Well, I guess I'm done for today. I have three more days before orientation, and I don’t have my roommate yet. So I guess I should decorate my half of the room.” she turns her head and sees all the boxes stacked on top of one another.

“Or I could take a bath. She grabs her towel and opens the bathroom door, so she can bathe in boiling hot water while listening to Nightcore on repeat.

After her bath, Ophelia lays in bed scrolling through Tumblr when she starts to think of that dream she had on the plane. “That girl. What was her name?” she thinks to herself. Ophei tries to recall all she can about her, “She was on the bigger side. Short hair. I only ever saw her in muddy browns and greens.” she eventually drifts off to sleep, just to wake up again.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -- -- --- ---- ----- -------- ----- ---- ------ ---- -----

“Sweetheart wake up.” She feels someone nudge her awake, “Hun you’ve been sleeping the whole class period.”

“Oh sorry Ms. Mayflower.” She scatters to put her stuff away and tries to leave the classroom before Ms. Mayflower stops her.

“Bear, sweetheart can we talk?” She pulls out the chair on the other side of her desk, and Bear sits down in it. “You’re failing this class, and I've talked to your other teachers and you’re not doing too well in their classes either. Is everything okay at home, did something happen with Mom and Dad?”

“NO. I um… I'm just not good at school, it’s just not for me.” Bear looks down at her lap fiddling with her fingers.

“Hun, you’re only passing art, but that’s an AP class we’ll have to pull you out if you keep this up.”

“But, math and science are hard. And I always try during PE I just never pass, and Mr. Brown SUCKS. A simile and a metaphor are basically the same thing, and nothing makes sense. And I like history but I never pass the test despite the fact I always get good scores on classwork.”

“Hun I’m sorry but me, including the rest of your teachers, have talked about it.” Tears start to swell up in Bear's eyes, as she stands up. “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, you’re fine.” she leaves the room tears threatening to fall down her face, when she accidentally bumps into a small girl.

“What the hell is yours!- oh Beary, I haven't seen you all day. You look…cute.” she stares up and down Bear, and she decides to wear the sweet Lolita dress her dad got her today. She got self-conscious and covered it with a jacket but she left it in Ms. Mayflower's room.

“Oh thank you, my dad got it for my birthday.” she uses her arms to try and cover her body.

“Yeah, you look like a baby doll,” One of the other girls said. “You know the things babies throw up on?”

“Aww look at her skirt it has plushies on it. do you sleep with them?”

“No” she whispers

“What was that?”

“No, i dont sleep with them.” she raised her voice

“Oh, well I thought you still slept with plushies, considering no one’s ever sleeping with you.” the girls start laughing and bear laughs with them trying to play it off.

“What are you talking about she's sleeping with the bears on her skirt, dont diss her man!”

The girls continue to make jabs at her dress nitpicking every single part of it to oblivion

“Haha you’re so funny Bailey, but I need to go now.” She tries to leave before the girls see her crying, but she’s stopped.

“Noo, where are you going we’re having so much fun eat lunch with us.”

Isn’t it shocking how much girls preach about sisterhood yet be so cruel to their fellow “sisters”? They’re pestering her trying to get on her nerves, she just wants to leave and they won't let her. Tall and big vs short and thin if they were guys then this would be clear cut, but for women with’s a lot more complicated. One of the girls, the smallest one grabs her arm and tries pulling her.

“Common eat with us bear we know you can eat a lot. Oh! I didn’t mean it like that.” all the girls laugh with her, and Bear starts crying.

“Oh my god bear! Why are you crying?”

“If you keep wailing like that then someone’s gonna call Peta” at that moment she pushes one of the girls to the side but she falls on her ass and started crying. And at this moment the bell rings, and everyone flods into the hall they’re currently in.

“Oh my god! The bear threw Bailey!”

“She’s gone feral!” everyone started staring at her, and some people started recording. Then someone started barking at her, and a bunch of people joined in. so she just ran away. She hid in the girl's bathroom where she cried until the security guards forced her to go to class.

- - - - - - - - - - - -- -- --- ---- ----- -------- ----- ---- ------ ---- -----

Then Ophie woke up with someone patting her back and tears trickling off her face.

...

That's it. Hope you all liked chapter 1 XOXO luv ya<3

6 notes · View notes

plinkcat-gif · 2 years

Note

Hi kirpy!! Congrats on 300 followers!!!!!!!!!!!! I love your writing sm,, and im obsessed with ur newest kkobrin story. They make me sooo feral. I also want to mention I really like your taste in music.

So I do have a writing idea, if you are interested. It's basically just punk! kkobrin. I drew some art for this idea myself, but I can't write for shit. Itd be really cool to see you write a short drabble about them in this au being punks and fighting the problematic shinobi system. I dont rrally have any specific prompt about it tho so it might be too vague sorry. If u want to see the drawings and hcs I made for more info, theyre on my art blog @seoz-seoz. And if you don't like this concept, I totally understand!! No pressure. This may not be for everyone. Lol.

Either way, thanks and take care of yourself!!! Congrats again <3

HI SEOZ!!!!!! so i ended up having a lot of fun writing this even if it didn’t display their punk-ness very well, so i’ll just explain my vague ideas for them here AKDJAKDH

rin and minato are both very overthrow the system, but in a legal way. they want to pry power from under danzō’s feet like stripping paint off a wall. rin helps out in the hospital of course, but also plans a lot of educational activities for children of all ages, and underhandedly radicalizes them that way SKDKSK

obito is far more direct, and will attack root agents, destroy root hideouts, and in generally just more uh. violent. but he also participates in rin’s activities because he loves working with kids :3

kakashi just likes to go around vandalizing things with graffiti and yk. openly threatening root agents because he can. he also helps with rin’s stuff, and more often than obito. he also hosts his own art classes where he teaches older kids how to identify root hideouts and get away with vandalizing them SKDBSKDJSKDJ

all three of them only don’t get in more trouble because minato’s the hokage and he turns such a massive blind eye to their activities to piss danzō off dkdkskkd

ok here is the story i love them and i love ur art sm!!!!! <33333 also this isn’t 1k it’s 947 words which is. so annoying. but ik jack shit ab punk anything and couldn’t think of anything else to add :(

Rin let the door to the Hokage’s office slide shut behind her and took a seat on the couch next to, to her surprise, Obito. He glanced up at her, then grinned both in greeting and like the cat that’s caught the canary.

“Whatre you doing here?” she asked, noting the dirt on his clothes, like he’d been up to something. He probably had; Obito was like that.

“You first,” Obito responded, crossing his arms. Rin leaned back on the couch, realizing what Obito meant: he thought she was in trouble. Ah, then this would be news to him.

“Minato’s gonna help me plan an activity for the students where they can learn about the rivers and fish and stuff. Science-y stuff, you know.”

And if watching Obito deflate wasn’t the best thing she’d ever seen. Minato shuffled the papers on his desk, stifling a chuckle. “What’re you in for?” she added, because she wasn’t nice.

Obito slumped deep into his seat, sending the Hokage’s desk a burning glare. “I attacked a ROOT agent with a lead pipe,” he grumbled, and Rin reached over to grab his head and pull him into her chest.

“Awww, and Minato got you into trouble?” she cooed, petting his face as obnoxiously as possible. Obito groaned, long and loud, but made no attempts at escape.

“He broke their arm and leg,” Minato said, raising an unamused eyebrow at their antics. “They had to be hospitalized. According to them, Obito attacked unprovoked, too.”

“They were spying on me!” Obito retorted, spluttering and finally fighting his way free when Rin accidentally stuck a finger in his mouth. “I was only acting in defense of myself,” he added when he was sitting again, glaring at Rin.

“You were vandalizing a building.”

“It was abandoned!”

“I’m pretty sure trying to destroy a building is still illegal, Obito.”

“Well it was obviously a hideout for Danzō’s goons, so really, I was doing you a favor.”

Minato looked up from his paperwork, meeting Obito’s eyes with an icy glare. “Right. My former student wreaking havoc on an abandoned building looks great on my image as a Hokage.”

Obito opened his mouth to retort but Rin grabbed his ear and yanked on it lightly, scowling at him. “He’s very sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes when Obito didn’t take the initiative and instead snapped his mouth shut. She reached around him to grab his lips and, in a poor mockery of his voice, pinched and opened them and said, “I’m so sorry, Sensei, and I promise not to destroy any more buildings for at least a week. Or attack any more ROOT agents. Also you’re the greatest Hokage ever and I’m very thankful you’re going to let me off with only a slap on the wrist and a disapproving glare.”

Minato frowned at Rin’s antics, his disappointment changing none when he shifted his gaze from Obito to Rin, and she grinned in response. “You’re on Naruto duty for a week, too,” he finally said, looking back at his paperwork, and Obito groaned loudly.

Not that he didn’t like Naruto, but Rin understood. He was a handful without his parents around.

“Okay, both of you out please,” Minato said, waving them off, and Obito gladly stood and quickly made his way out.

“Ah, the field trip?” Rin asked, and Minato continued to wave her off.

“Whatever you have planned is fine, I’m sure. You have my permission to do whatever you want,” he said.

Well, not like she expected anything else. “Thanks Sensei!” she exclaimed, following Obito out with a wave to Minato.

It was getting close to dusk, which meant that they needed to find Kakashi because he was on dinner duty tonight. Sometimes it was easy, but other times Kakashi didn’t want to be found. Whether it be a bad mission or he was too involved in his current piece to be bothered, he would be hard to find.

Luckily, today was easy.

“That’s the building I was vandalizing!” Obito yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Kakashi, who was detailing some fur onto a wolf with electricity in its eyes and a bloody ROOT vest in its mouth.

“Subtle,” Rin called, following Obito.

Kakashi looked over at them, then very obviously grinned at Obito who was marching over angrily.

“So you can get away with threatening a ROOT agent in a permanent mural but the second I get caught attacking one, Minato’s about to flay me alive?”

“Maa, favorite’s privileges, I guess,” Kakashi responded, smoothly leaning away from Obito’s attempt to grab at his jacket collar.

Obito growled in frustration at his failed attack, but pushed it no further. “Tch, whatever,” he said, swiping a spray can from the ground. He walked over to the mural and sprayed a small red heart in the corner, before Kakashi could stop him.

“Ah, right over the water details,” he lamented, placing a delicate hand over his wounded heart. Rin grabbed a can and did the same right next to Obito’s, in pink. “You both wound me.”

“I think we should have fish for dinner,” Rin said, ignoring Kakashi’s whines, and beginning to help him pack up his supplies. Obito nodded in agreement, gathering Kakashi’s brushes into a pile. Kakashi worked on transferring his supplies back to his scroll, and then ended their familiar dance.

“Do you want grilled fish?” Kakashi asked, pocketing his scroll. “You guys keep telling me you regret not asking for it every time I make dinner.”

“Eh, I’m not really feeling it right now,” Obito said, and led them out of the alley. Rin snorted. They would absolutely regret not asking for grilled fish again.

#kirpy answers #kirpy writes #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEY R SUCH DORKS OK!!!!!!!!#they are so annoying to each other and they love each other so much SKDKAKDJ #kakashi #obito #nohara rin #obkkrin

20 notes · View notes

energywarning · 2 years

Note

Do u have any headcanons for octo girl and alex/4 (or I guess actually canons in octo girls case bc she's your OC lmao)

Yes i do^_^ yeah

already did one for 4 so ill do cherry mostly LOL

Cherry:

She works as a tattoo artist, already said that But !shes like the owner of the shop. Fun fact. Butt the shop is also where she lives anyway.

She is also very difficult to work with. IF u come to her shop w a design already planned and she thinks your design idea is shit she'll probably change it without telling you. And tattoo u her design. Lol... Shes v stubborn.

She slouches over a lot actually. But whenever she talks to someone she makes sure to straighten up her back to appear as tall as she uh. Is...

Music wise she likes... artists like burial, or mellow club house tunes etc. rotund by halal sol for example is a nice one... now for the splatbands that are in the actual game . id say she likes dedf1sh and literally no other bands or djs or whatevrr lol. Her least favorites are all of the others but ESPECIALLY high tide era. She hates taka lol she thinks hes ugly.

She has piercings on her tentacles (when she remembers to put them) she has none on her face because she is scared.

Doesnt like wearing flashy bright colors etc. Baggy ish Layered dark clothings + red accents every now and then cus red is her favorite color.

She hates snark in general she thinks its one of the most useless form of verbal communication known to life. Boohoo you are angry at me well die brother dont try to be funny about it.

Anyway for alex And cherry:

Alex loves hugging people in general... affectionate .she squishes cherry like a plushie lol. Shes fine with it to say the least...

Even after knowing eachother cherry still has a... princely ?impression of alex so sometimes she humors her by going like "oh my beautiful dame want to drink tea at the park. Or whatever" n shit. But cherry actually thinks she very much looks like a prince when she does this so the joke somewhat falls flat.

Alex is a HAHAHHAHHehehe hehe girl cherry is a hah girl. Somewhat

They got w eachother in a very.. anticlimatic way

(alex:*over the phone* hey i think you have feelings for me ! Well youre in luck i love you too lol let us be girled friends n shit

Cherry: WHAT wait how did you know i love you

Alex: well sometimes i have this thing called "common sense"!... Sometimes.

Alex:

Alex: also eight told me

Cherry:(that bitch)

)

Cherry has offered to tattoo her multiple times, even making a few designs herself but alex has always refused so far lol. they do end up getting matching tattoos eventually tho.

Alex: hey would you still love me if i was a worm

Cherry:... that is a trick question is it not. Its one of your weird inkling questions

Alex: nah eight asked the same thing to ripley lol. ..So? :^3

Cherry:(doing 6d chess in her mind)... yes i would-

Alex:YAYYY

Sometimes cherry s back acts up Bad when theyre outside so alex will piggy back or bridal style carry her lol.

Alex draws the two of them sometimes but while its 99% silly drawings like them as the magnet vocaloid girls there is one serious portrait of cherry and she has it framed in her shop (that is also her apartment) lol

They dance together :^) i mean not couple dance tho alex puts on some rave music and they go fucking bonkers. Still a sweet moment

10 notes · View notes

put-me-in-a-movie-mp3 · 1 year

Note

Hey! Could you pair me with someone from stranger things or harry potter or IT? Also love your writing ! Im a female and pref boys <3 Also for Harry potter im a hufflepuff!

LOOKS-I am pretty short 4'11. I have black shaggy medium length hair with side bangs. Im pretty petite and have very pale skin, i also wear golden round glasses cause i cant see for shit. I have a pretty small ahem chest area. Also a Pisces.

CLOTHING-I normally wear baggy clothes like big sweaters and baggy jeans. Always wearing my converse or white airforces (I know basic dont come at me i swear i have good style somtimes lol)with my outfits. No makeup on this face except cherry chapstick and clear mascara.

PERSONALITY- I can be very shy and quiet especially around new people or alot of people. I have major social anxiety and also ADHD. But getting to know me i can be funny and a bit odd. I'm also very awkward at times even with people im close with im very cut off and not open to sharing things alot. i try not being to annoying or bother some so thats why sometimes im distant. I tend to over think things and my relationships with people. Im not as hyper anymore like i was as a kid but still i space off, get distracted, forget alot of things, and cant sit still sometimes. Im a INTP.

EXTRA-I have many scars and bruises from being clumsy or just a dumb ass. In school i can be a target for bullying or just ignoring me overall. Can be oblivious and childish. I get flustered very easily. Some of the things i like to do is drawing and painting. I also play video games a lot. I love listening to music you can always find me with earbuds in. I love reading poetry. I love gardening well most of the time. I see myself sometimes to be such a hopeless romantic sometimes in my opinion daydreaming about my crush or people. I would be the type of partner to draw you stuff or make a playlist for you. I love cuddling, hugs, hand holding, and drawing on your hand if you let me. I always thinking of gifts to give my partner when i have one.

Of course! Hope you enjoy! :)

Stranger Things: Mike Wheeler

I think you and Mike would get along really well together. You were apart of hellfire, which is how you guys met. In school you were either bullied or ignored, which is something Mike completely understood because the same thing happened to him. He loves reading your writings and you guys bond over the music you listen too. He helps you with your social anxiety a lot by either holding your hand or having an arm around just to let you know that everything is okay. He always wants to make sure you're alright and that nothing is going to happen to you. He doesn't want to lose you as you are very important to him. More important than you think.

Harry Potter: Harry Potter

I think you and Harry Potter would be perfect for each other. First he notices you getting bullied by Draco, which is something that happens to him so he felt like he needed to stand up for you. He didn't want Draco making fun of you because he knows how hurtful it was. You were really quiet around Harry at first because he's "the chosen one" and you were a bit apprehensive about it. You just didn't think it was possible that he would have stuck up for you. After that incident it was just smiles at each other through the hallways, but then when you both get paired in a class for a group project you start to learn a lot more about each other. And some would say you spent too much time on this project and most of the time you guys were have deep conversations and getting to know each other better. Then you both started to fall for each other.

I think he would love your artistic side with your writings, paintings, and drawings. He loves you and he feels like he needs to protect you from all the evil in the world, which makes him want to defeat Voldemort even more.

IT: Bill Denbrough

You and Bill would be perfect for each other. You both are really interested in writing and thats something you guys really bond over. You have always been apart of the group and even though Bill had been head over heels for Beverly he got over her once he met you. You had a lot more in common and you were a bit more of a mystery to Ben then Beverly was. He got bullied a lot as a kid and had a stuttering problem, which made him have extreme social anxiety. You guys bond a lot over your problems and what you deal with. You end up finding out you have a lot more in common than you guys thought. You also make him want to defeat Pennywise even more because he wants to protect you.

1 note · View note

feverishmentalstate · 8 months

Text

"Why would you wear a lamb skin condom when, for $42.10 and you know the right people, you can fuck the whole lamb?", and other meth fueled ponderings. Part 1

Yes, real question, put to me by a toothless, trembling, skelator-like young....youngish...age androgynous, gentleman, while we were standing in the condom isle of an all night Walmart. He was holding a box of lambskin condoms in one hand, the other hand, unbeknownst to my safe sex loving troll, was vigorously kneading his curiously massive junk.

No! Perv! I wasn't ogling his junk, but when one becomes privy to spectacle, of not everyday origin, one takes a moment to check it out. Not in a "yum giant cock for me" kind of way...absolutely not, but in a "HOLY SHIT!! If this freak gets an erection, hes going to lose consciousness for sure!" kind of way.

Anyway, Walmart, 3:45 am, its Tuesday. Vernan, not his real name, still gripping his wick, turns and looks in my direction. Before I could answer, Vernan, answered himself, kind of. His hand left his cock alone, first time since our moment in time began, and went to his mouth. Well, mouth via nose. What I mean is, Vernan lifted his fingers to his nose, and sniffed them. Then to his mouth to wipe away the spittle that was continuously present on either side of his mouth.

Obviously muscle memory in use, as the hand, upon leaving Vernan's mouth automatically resumed its place gripping his cock. It is this moment that i notice the huge saliva stain on the material of his pants....I also notice his pants have a small padlock holding his pants on, and restricting Vernan from touching his cock, mono o mono. I laughed...

I am nine. Its some made up holiday, and we are hosting, because we lost the drawing, a party for the, OTHER, side of the family. You know the ones: Uncle Bernie/Aunt Bernice, He/she is a spastic transgender, who changes his/her mind every other month. You never know which version of Bern is showing up, Fay, not sure how she is related. She reeks of cat heat spray and....semen! Her favorite past time, "Its so freeing to be eating dick, I mean really choking one down, while my precious pussy is helping with the balls. Little beggars prickly tongue practically removes a mans scrotal skin, and he gets so excited he sprays and sprays.....lovely way to spend a Tuesday evening at church, with the pastor."

Then there was Bill! Back then, in a much more direct time, bill would be considered, and called, a retard. My Mexican uncle Lee Shou, dont ask, said that Bill, "Was so tarded at birth, he had to be fixed and re-traded. Bill had a masturbation lock, made by Mastercock, a little known division of Masterlock.

Long story short, I unlocked Bill. He went up to every family member in attendance, shook their hand and said hi, while simultaneously, vigorously flailing his battered looking cock. When faced with a south paw, Bill, effortlessly switched hands and slapped your palm with the hand, that not seconds before, had been oil rigging his schlong.

The party was over, the only one who seemed to be okay with this was Uncle Bern, he asked if he was blood related to Bill, and offered, no insisted, he give Bill a ride home to the home.

Here I am, some years later, faced with the same choice....lock, or no lock? We are in a family friendly Walmart, Lock boy stands near me and beats his bongo, but through 6 layers of cloth. He looks frustrated....pissed off...evil and, yes, severely retarded. Their never was a choice, Vernan minor was free!

#desire #fascinating #crossed legs #sexy hips #quim

1 note · View note

k0kichiimagines · 2 years

Note

Hi there! Can I please have a scenario where it’s the first chapter in V3 during the time limit, and Kokichi’s SO (feminine pronouns if possible) tries to go through the Death Road of Despair by herself trying to figure out how to safely get everyone out without anyone getting hurt, then Kokichi finds them extremely hurt but still trying all for the sake of them? Thank you :)

i feel like writing angst so im making this painful hurt / comfort type thing

also pretend thr killing game lasts longer here, i do feel like it realistically it would take place over a few months, but especially here since its early! that or you knew oma beforehand

- mod kokichi

kokichi x reader

-> getting hurt doing the death road of despair

cws : violence,

"too many hits! back to the start you go!" the bear announced, laughing as you groaned in annoyance. at least the path back was an easy back stage route, it would mean you could rest slightly for your next run.

next run. a part of you so desperately wanted to give up, your body was bruised and hurting, you could taste blood and see it seeping through your clothes. you were fucking exhausted, but you still kept pushing, kept pushing because maybe this would help everyone.

you finally reached the start, collapsing onto the floor to gain your breath, your vision blurring slightly and arms weak and shaking. you bit your tongue (lightly, you'd already cut it hard enough to draw blood), holding back tears.

someone called your name, you could here footsteps running until someone lifted you up onto your trembling legs, leaning you against them. you looked up (or down if youre a lot taller then him, but even if you're a bit taller youd be slouching here) and blinked a few times. "... kokichi?"

"idiot! what do you think you're doing?! are you trying to be the first death or something?" your vision had cleared enough to see the worry on his face, but you winced anyways at his yelling.

"shh, my head is throbbing"

"yeah no shit considering what you've been putting yourself through."

"kokichi, please, i got really far this time! i can probably finish in one or two more ro-"

"no. dont be stupid, youre not doing it again."

"but-"

"no! you've done this multiple times, you've nearly killed yourself - no."

"im not an idiot! i know its dangerous, ive done it before! im not a child, oma, i can handle this! stop treating me like a baby. "

"It's not about treating you like a baby, its about the fact that youre my girlfriend and i love you and im not going to let you get hurt!." he was holding you firmly now, clearly unwilling to let you run off. you sighed, the pain throbbing in a more noticeable way, the adrenaline leaving your system.

he noticed you grumpily comply with his tugs, leaning on him as he took you to his dorm (he likely had first aid there. why? dont question it.) he kissed your head softly. "silly, it's super sweet you want to try so hard, but you gotta take care of yourself - alright?" you nodded slowly.

he would take you back and patch you up, cleaning and bandaging your wounds as best he can. he most likely ensures to keep a closer eye on you as well, making sure you don't attempt such a dangerous feet again.

#kokichi x reader #kokichi oma x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #oma x reader #ouma x reader #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa v3 x reader

114 notes · View notes

tomatograter · 2 years

Note

Do you have any advice on drawing muscular people in femme clothing? I keep trying to draw Jake in cute fits and it looks like a terf caricature 😭

If im being perfectly honest with you, there's a high chance this could be happening because 90% of "Fashion" is geared towards extremely thin, flat, and wiry bodies. It's not the outfit that works - it's the engineered drappery of cloth to accent a skinny form. This is why a non-negligible number of high fashion pieces only work on a runway, and a lot of "fast fashion" doesn't quite vibe with normal bodies in the same manicured way they do to supplement IG baddies under deep photoshop. This is why a lot of runways operate on an "androgynous" basis even when clothing lines you get at the mall are super gendered - they're always using the same principles for an interchangeable body frame, that being the super skinny one.

This is not to say you can't make skinny fashion to suit larger bodytypes (because often you can, and I have) just that it takes some adjusting, and like a lot of design: it depends on composition, presentation, shape and form. Despite how many outfits I draw i actually dont know shit about base terms or principles of good clothesmaking, so i cant point you to exact definitions or formulas, but the one thing that helped me get a better eye was actually this: you gotta learn how to draw fat people!

Not just because of the anatomy - though it definitely helps, since a lot of good muscle will often come with fat, and washboard abs are a scam - but also because you need to observe how clothes interact with that frame, which garments accent it, which garments bog it down, how wrinkles and stretched fabric look as they naturally move — you can't just rely on following the skeletal form of the person, or making everything into angles, because there's meat in there! And clothes don't USUALLY hug your every curve to the point they will be shaped exactly like what's underneath. They have their own shape, and its that contrast that makes them "fall nicely" on a body. (A lot of the popular super skinny anime art tends to fall prey to the hermetically-sealed design syndrome.)

That's paying attention to composition, shape and form. But then there's presentation. One thing that really struck me a few years ago when i saw an artist answering a question on a similar vein to this one is how often we've became used to images on media that portray AMAB bodies on feminine clothes as "awkward" "maladjusted" or in the worst cases "inherently funny, because it's wrong" but that's not really how that works? That just sounds like a bullshit strawman argument. And it is.

Point being: the way you depict a person wearing something highly impacts the end result. Do they look confident? Do they look happy? Do they look comfortable? Does wearing this make them feel nice, and can you see that? Is the camera looking upon them fondly, is it framing them positively, or is it still somewhat influenced towards a biased trend? Is the first word that comes to mind "attractive" or "weird"?

There sure is a lot of 'content' even in 'welcoming lgbt fandom circles' that defaults to presenting gender-noncomformity, particularly as it pertains to transfemininity or men that reject the hard mold of cis masculity, as something awkward, inherently comedic, or outright bad. This is an unavoidable facet of the negative and punishing culture we live in.

I cannot possibly tell you how many times I've seen an anime boy drawn in utter distress because he's wearing a skirt and you can tell the artist is thinking "well, i need to make this look a little bad, right? So its realistic?" and you just feel a weird fucking vibe emanating from the post when it could 100% come off better if the body language and framing were going for "this looks cute, this looks hot" even in cases where the character might be embarassed about it. Human beings communicate A LOT through visual cues and body language, you have to watch out for it!

But also from a general art perspective, a lot of clothes have a hard time looking good if the characters are standing up stick-straight. Look up poses from casual photoshoots, use references, avoid the🧍‍♂️syndrome and in general: observe! Good luck.

#art #jake english

173 notes · View notes

twodimecastle · 3 years

Text

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #my writing #spencer reid fluff

277 notes · View notes

peakyscillian · 3 years

Text

Scars to your beautiful | Cillian x fem!reader |

Summary: Cillian and Y/N attend a film premiere, Y/N is feeling all kinds of insecure. Warnings: Angst, language, arguing. scar reference but nothing graphic or new. Request: @being-worthy A/N: I hope this is ok!

Scars to your beautiful

Lights flashing, people shouting, Cillian had his hand linked tightly with yours, the dress you had been sent was drawing unwanted attention to your body and you could see all the actresses and wives of actors up ahead, posing for the cameras. Cillian was being called left and right for the press, you stood off to the side letting him have his moment in front of the cameras, then his publicist was next to you, leaning close to your ear "Go have a few pictures with him y/n" he smiled, you shook your head shyly. "You look fantasic should show it off" he added after your refusal, you gave him the smallest smile but refused again. Cillian was back by your side, his hand back in yours as you made your way up the carpet to the cinema "wish you would of had a few pictures with me" he commented, you felt your heart sink. "I was just letting you have your moment Cill" you smiled, as he held the door for you, dropping a kiss to your cheek .

The film had been amazing, you were thankful for the dimly lit cinema, you and Cillian had been at the after party for around twenty minutes, he'd gone to the bar leaving you at a table, you could see him laughing and joking with a beautiful co-star, her hand on his arm. You didn't blame either of them Cillian was the most handsome man in the room and she was just stunning, you were surely the most out of place person here, always unsure why Cillian wanted to be with you. Cillian caught your eyes, waving you over, his co-star turned as well a welcoming smile on her face, you shook your head, holding up a finger to signal you'd be back, heading for the toilets. No way could you stand there near her and not feel like you wanted the room to swallow you whole. Standing next to her would only make Cillian realise what a mistake he had made, bringing you, hell even being with you in the first place. *** Cillian excused himself from talking to a few of his co-stars, you had headed to the bathroom a while ago and he was worried you'd been so quiet all evening, fidgetting with the beautiful dress that suited you so well. He knew how insecure you could be, how you were sure he had made a mistake asking you to marry him. He knew it wasn't your fault that you felt this way, he had seen so many negative things destroy the confidence of his sisters he wasn't immune to it. He had seen the scars on your thighs, the marks of your past pain and he just wanted to take everything away, but nights like tonight you pushed and pushed until he was so far away from you, you couldn't hear him. He waited outside the ladies bathrooms, pulling his phone out to send you a message, his patience wearing thinner by the minute, he wasn't one to argue especially not with you, but right now he was getting frustrated, he just wanted you to see how beautiful you were to him and nearly everyone you met. You finally appeared he could see the red puffiness of your eyes, the stained make up on your cheeks, he downed his beer placing the glass on the window ledge behind him. "Hey, hey whats wrong?" concern flooded his body as he held you by your elbows. "I jus-just want to go home Cill" you hiccuped, he bit at his lip, he wanted you here, he had finally persauded you to come along to a premiere and now the night was just getting started and you wanted to leave. He took in a sharp breath "I can call Clive to come get you?" he asked, you nodded "Are you coming?" you questioned, he shook his head. "Y/N it's a big premiere night everyone is here, Enda has asked me to make a speech, he's my closest friend I can't just disappear" he was trying his hardest to keep his cool. You stood on tiptoes to kiss him quickly "It's fine Cillian, enjoy your night I'll see you at home" you went to walk away to wait out by the entrance for his driver. "No, dont you dare make me feel guilty, I was so damn excited to have you here with me tonight, so happy that you agreed to come, then we get here and you dont want pictures, you dont want to talk to my castmates, you hide in the toilets, what more can I do?" he was frustrated you knew that but you couldn't help it.

"I feel like shit ok? I saw you with that women, in the red dress looking like a fucking model, I'll leave you too it yeah?" you pulled your hand from his grasp. "She's my co-star, she was asking to meet you because I never shut up talking about you and you were so rude, now I've got to go back in there and explain you've left because you're jealous?" he was baffled, he didn't know what else he could do "I'm not jealous Cillian, you can fucking have her for all I care" you took off, heels clicking across the marble floor, not looking back at him.

*** You were under the duvet, having got home stripped from the dress leaving it in a pile on the floor of the walk-in wardrobe, heels discarded down stairs, you'd took the make-up off and bundled your hair into a bun before crawling under the covers. You felt so awful leaving Cillian the way you had, but you needed to get out of the party, you didn't belong in his perfect life. You had made your decision, you needed to leave you needed to let Cillian be happy with someone who deserved him.

There was always a bag packed at the back of your side of the wardrobe, waiting for the moment you would need it, you got out from the covers, padding across to the wardrobe, stepping over the dress heading for the bag.

***

You were making your way down the stairs when you heard the front door close, you froze heart pounding. Cillian appeared at the bottom of the staircase, brows knitted together. "What..where are you going?" his eyes fell to the bag in your hand. "I don't deserve you, I shouldn't be with you" you were biting at your lip. Cillian shrugged off his coat, dropping his keys into the dish, taking the steps two at a time to reach you. "I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean to get mad, I just wish you would see how beautiful you are to me, how much I adore you, you're beautiful y/n, so beautiful and I'll spend everyday telling you that, please, please stay" he was pleading, down on his knee's on the step below you. You allowed him to take the bag from your hands, to lead you up the stairs, help you undress and redress into your lounge clothes, tucking you into the bed, promising to be right back after locking up the downstairs, you hadn't said a word. You were overwhelmed, by this man and his love for you, you were still certain you didn't deserve him.

***

Taglist @being-worthy @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @queenshelby @noctvrnalmoth @magicalpieex @datewithgianni @elenavampire21 @cloudofdisney @uchihacumdump

#Cillian Murphy #Cillian x fem!reader #Cillian x y/n #angst #angst imagine #one shot #request #request completed #being-worthy #taglist #requests open

179 notes · View notes

kashimos-hajime · 3 years

Text

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care.

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up.

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time.

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that.

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms.

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone.

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile.

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

Distantly, he remembers flashes.

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted.

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.”

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing.

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows.

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it?

It has to be.

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality.

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him.

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing.

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up.

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks.

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field.

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop.

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you.

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything.

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing.

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner.

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach.

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years.

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise.

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.”

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.”

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off.

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you.

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head.

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

258 notes · View notes

the-midnight-slasher-official · 3 years

Text

vincent sinclair-breeding

WARNING: SMUT. FORCED BREEDING. LYING

you have been in ambrose for awhile now. You cant really remember your life before ambrose. Your positive no one remembers you and or misses you. Yes bo is a huge asshole to you, and vincent is always your saving grace when bo is in a shitty mood. and lester would also be a huge saving grace as well, but hes always away doing god knows what.

Bo was huge on killing you because he didnt see any potential in you. but vincent wanted to keep you, and lester liked having you around also. So bo let you stay with vincent. Bo made it clear that your vincents pet and that your vincents problem. If anything bad happens to you vincent would be cleaning up the mess and dealing with your body. But vincent would never let anything bad happen to you. He always keeps you by his side and never lets you out of his sight.

He fell too deep in love to let you out of his sight let alone going to the bathroom. Vincent absolutely hated it when you sneak out of the room at night. He was extremely paranoid that you would leave the house and run away, and tonight just happened to be one of those nights. you were currently laying in Vincent and yours shared bed. you were locked in the bedroom in the house while Vincent worked away in the house of wax. you couldnt escape through the window because he had bo bolt it shut. you stared up at the ceiling determining whether you hated vincent or not. He kept you trapped here, and would never let you leave his side. But you deep down were very in love him, and you tried to hate him because you couldnt ever deal with the rejection from him.

while you were thinking away your worries and anxiety in the bed at 2:23 am. Vincent was also busy thinking about his worries and anxieties while he was drawing in his wax cave under the house of wax. He stopped drawing a long time ago because he began to focus on the thought of you leaving while he was trying to draw, and now thats all he can think about. So he sat at his desk and thought really hard about what could make you willingly stay without him having to force it upon you. his biggest turn on's he had with you was your size. you were smaller than him and he found that cute and a huge turn on.

He wanted to take good care of you and give you flowers and give you baths. but he already does that. he already gives you a roof over your head and feeds you three times a day, and gives you baths and every morning he gives you flowers. But he also went to bo for advice on how to keep you close, and of course bo being bo said that he doesnt give a shit about what vincent does with you because your not his problem. But bo did suggest getting you pregnant so you could stay with vincent and it would also give him an opportunity to show you that he can treat you well even when your pregnant and be a good father to the child.

Vincent thought long and hard while he sat at his desk. And he chose that he will get you pregnant so you could stay close to him and rely on him. He wants to do it out of love. Because he loves you dearly. he loves you so much that hes willing to kill his own siblings that hurt you in any way or form. He huffed out of exhaustion and closed his sketch book and cleaned everything up, and shut off all the lights. He headed through the tunnels and made his way up to the trap door that opens to a room in the house. he opened the trap door and hoisted himself up out of it and walked through the house to get to his room.

he opened the door to your and his shared and room and noticed that the light was quickly shut off and you quickly got into a fake sleeping position. he sighed and closed the door and kicked off his boots. he walked over to the bed while taking off his wax covered apron and tapped your shoulder. you got scared and jerked and looked up at him, not expecting him to touch you in any way or form.

"what where you still doing up?" he signed to you.

"i was asleep" you said fake yawning.

"bullshit" he signed.

you rolled over facing away from his side of the bed. vincent got into comfy clothes and slid into bed and put an arm around you and played with your hair until you actually fell asleep. a few hours later you woke up and had to go to the bathroom but vincents hand was wrapped around your waist. you knew he hated it when you left the room at night. but you had to pee very badly.

you very carefully moved his arm and slid out of bed. occasionally looking behind you to make sure that hes still asleep. you looked over at his night stand and seen his mask. It made your heart melt and you smile. He was confident enough to take off his mask around you. you looked at the ground and seen his discarded clothes, and that kinda turned you on a little bit, and you looked at him and seen that he was wearing plaid boxers and a korn shirt. his long hair was all over the pillows, and his body was wrapped up on the sheets. you admired one of his strong arms behind his head.

you quickly turned around and tip toed to the door. you quietly turned the knob and realized that he locked it. you felt stupid for forgetting that he locks the door at night as well. you tip toed to his nightstand and opened the little drawer it had and grabbed the key. He doesnt know that you knew the key was in there. you walked back to the door and quietly unlocked it and went to the bathroom. after going to the bathroom you walked back to the room. you stepped into the door way and seen vincent still sleeping. so you took this advantage to go downstairs and get a glass of water since you didnt get a glass before bed.

you walked pass a sleeping lester on the couch to get to the kitchen. you didnt want to wake him up either. not that he would hurt you or drag you back upstairs. you just didnt wanna wake him up from his dream. he looked extremely exhausted. you went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass and opened the fridge to get some fresh filtered cold water. you filled the glass, and took a few huge chugs. you walked passed lester again asleep on the couch and you noticed the front door. sure vincent would be awake for awhile. so you stepped out onto the front porch to have fresh air. and you didnt realize that you were out there for more than ten minutes.

you heard a noise and turned around and seen vincent fuming angry behind you. he was breathing heavy and his eye brows were furrowed. he grabbbed your arm and pulled you through the front door. he dragged you up the stairs while thinking about what to do with you. because you just flared up his paranoia about you leaving. as he reached the top of the stairs, he picked you up and carried you to the room. he set you on the bed and grabbed the key out of your pocket and locked the door. he angrily slammed the key on the dresser. he looked at you wondering what to do.

he thought about what bo said. But he wanted to do it out of love when you were ready and not force. But he realized that he had to get you pregnant in order for you to stay with him. Besides he really wants a kid with you, but he knows that you dont want any with him, at least he doesnt think.

you deep down wanted his kids but you never said anything to him. He stared at you while he thought about how to deal with this, but knocking you up seemed to be the only thing on his mind. fuck he wanted you to have his kids. he walked over to you and pushed you down into the bed.

"vincent. i wasnt trying to leave, i promise. i was just getting fresh air" you said. but he shut you up by kissing you. and lifting you shirt. you swatted vincents hand away. but he slid his hand right under your shirt and groped your chest. the small moan you made was all vincent needed to continue. he roughly slid off your pajama pants and stood back up admiring the way you looked so small and vulnerable for him. he loved how you were so much smaller than him. that makes him feel more confident. He bent down and kissed you passionately. he unbuttoned the crotch area of his pajama pants and took his cock out, without taking off the pants. and he plunged into your soaking wet cunt.

he began at a fast angry pace.

"v-vincent" you groaned. he only thrusted faster. grabbing your thighs and pushing them to your chest as he leans over you and pounds you into the mattress. after awhile he reached down to your cunt and began to rub your swollen nub. making you scream in ecstasy. when he thinks you've squirted enough, he pulled out and signed for your to get on your knees. once you did, he signed for you to open your mouth. you opened your mouth and he grabbed his cock and slid in. throwing his head back as he began to fuck your mouth like he did your pussy. pre cum and spit began to drool out the sides of your mouth and hit the floor and run down your chest. his wet balls were smacking against your chin. every moan you make, made him shove his big hard cock deeper down your throat.

after a few minutes of the wet sounds of his cock balls deep down your throat. he pulled out and laid you down on the bed with your head hanging off the end and he slammed his cock back down your throat. he absolutely loved the way his cock made your throat bulge. he wrapped his hand around your throat feeling the way his cock pumped in and out. he quickened his pace and you felt his balls smack your face over and over. you gagged out pre cum and drool out of your mouth around his cock. he slowed down just to hear the pre cum and drool hit the floor.

he pulled out and flipped you back around facing him and he plunged back in full force making you scream. he fucked you faster than ever before making you see stars. the only sounds filling the room was his balls smacking your ass and your loud moans. he looked down at you signed

"do you want my kids babygirl?"

"yes. yes please. i want your kids so fucking bad. knock me up good baby" you moaned. and that was enough for him to bury his cock deep in your sopping cunt and shoot his seed. he then leaned down and kissed you deeply.

"i love you" he signed.

"i love you too vincent" you said as your forehead pressed against his. he looked surprised that you said that you loved him. but kissed you deeply shoving his tongue down your throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~the next morning you walked down the stairs and seen bo and lester staring at you and vincent. you blushed and vincent held the small of your back as he walked with you to the kitchen. he sat you down at the table and went to the fridge to get you something. you know they heard you and vincent last night.

"fuck loud enough?" bo said shooting you both a dirty look.

"fuck off" vincent signed.

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair smut #bo sinclair #lester sinclair

817 notes · View notes

cravetive · 3 years

Text

Photographs| Harry Styles

Author: @cravetive

Word Count: 1,877

Rating: 18+

Warnings: smut, strong language

Summary: there's more temptation when the person you want is behind the camera.

you set your make up brush down as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you had always been the model that preferred a ‘natural’ look but today was a special day. the decision was made with out your consent and after had been said and done you could do nothing to escape the business affair. you wondered if he had been behind this, he always made it his mission to have the upper hand, he was probably the one to even suggest it and since no one ever said no to harry styles. harry was still in the band when you started dating, the pressure of dating someone in the spotlight like that became too much for you, became too much for you both, it brought your relationship to its demise. truth is you and harry had became strangers long before the relationship ended and often so, strangers don't see each other again, that is until today.

saint Laurent was launching its spring lingerie collection, all the fashion sites & reporters were talking about it, how beautiful it would be. the lace fabric sat tight against your curves, the see through bra & panties with floral print leaving little to the imagination, your skin had been oiled for a more ‘dewy’ appearance. you swept your curtain bangs to the side and grabbed your robe, stepping out from the dressing room and into the photo studio. the saint Laurent personnel ran around fixing the lights and background for your photo shoot, nerves growing from the pit of your stomach.

you never thought you would see harry styles again. sure you were a model and he was a pop star and you both had made pretty big names for yourselves but in your mind you had imagined seeing him at an event, fully clothed, with a man by your side to show him you never needed him, you wish you could say you were no longer feeling petty but the break up hurt, shit, you cried for 6 months straight. you took in a deep breath and walked into the lights, sliding your robe off as you stopped on the marked x. you looked around nervously, expecting to see him prepping but he was nowhere to be seen. “uhm please excuse Mr. styles, Y/n he is running a bit late” his assistant spoke. you rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around your figure “of course he is” you muttered to yourself.

you got your makeup retouched twice before he entered the studio “hello everyone” he cheered, his thick English accent leaving echo's in the wide space. the staff greeted him, grabbing his belongings and offering him coffee and other amenities. you wanted to grab one of the lights and throw it as his head, his perfect head and his perfect curls. “sorry to keep everyone waiting, there was a bit of traff” he trailed on as his eyes landed on you, your exposed skin and you disgruntled stare, the way your hair fell in waves past your shoulders and the way the lights made your skin glow. you felt as though you were already naked the way he was eating you with your eyes and you could not help but feel uneasy.

“the camera is prepped and the lights can be moved to your desire mr. styles” one of the assistants spoke as he passed on the camera into harry’s hands, god those hands that used to wrap around your neck and leave you a mess those nights, you cleared your throat removing the rather annoying thoughts from your head. “very well, we can begin” he assured, he held the camera to his face, snapping the first picture, you stood completely still “i-i was not ready” you muttered. he leaned his head to the side and smirked “i know”.

you posed, your hands sliding down your body as you smirked into the camera, the sound of the camera clicking away relieving some of your nerves, you glanced shy looks into the lens, biting your lips and gliding your hands down around your neck, you could feel his stare on you, beyond the pictures he was taking, you could feel him take in every inch of your exposed skin, the thought of him spreading your legs open in the middle of this studio clouding your mind. he walked closer instructing one of the assistants to adjust the light.

“a fucking masterpiece baby” he muttered, his words causing goose bumps to rise on your skin. the camera clicked a few times before he came to a half leaving you to stand still “please leave us alone, i would like to snap some relaxed pictures” he glanced over at the assistant, who looked back at the editors, who seemed speechless at the request. “mr. styles we are-” they began to elaborate. he glanced back once more and without any other words, the staff was exiting the studio.

you grew nervous, the two of you left alone inside the big space, he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with desire, he snapped a picture of your flustered state “come closer” he instructed and you did as told. your heels leaving echos around you. he analyzed your skin and slipped the camera onto the floor, before slipping his hand under your hair and grasping it there. you whimpered slightly “fuck darling you look so good” he muttered. “harry-” you began to protest but his lips fell on yours like velvet, leaving you no other options but to kiss back, your lips melting into each other’s like butter.

his hand wondered your exposed skin, his fingers playing with the seams of your thong, his lips fell onto your chin and traveled to your neck where he left small love bites, your knees quivering under you. “h-harry” you gulped “i dont want to do this only because you miss it” you looked down at him, his face buried into your breasts. he looked at you, his cheeks flustered, his glozzy eyes looking into yours “aint nobody taking my baby” he whispered. his hand slipping inside your panties as he slid his tongue down to your belly button.

you moaned at the feeling of his cold rings touching your clit, you threw your head back as he drew circles against it. “you got me so hard honey, i want to fuck you so hard” he moaned before snapping your panties off, the quick aggression leaving you gasping. he picked you up and placing your thighs on his shoulder, your pussy pulsing against his mouth. you moaned out loudly as he gripped your ass as he slid his tongue slowly up and down your folds. he stood up, walking towards the love seat that was used as a prop.

his tongue slipped inside you as you fucked yourself with his mouth. “oh harry” you moaned, you needed him so bad, ever since he walked into the studio you wanted to fuck his brains out and there was no shame in that, he laid on his back slowly as you were now in the position to ride his face. you moved your hips, your hands falling onto his mess of curls. you gripped them tightly as he flickered his tongue over and over against your clit. you could feel the familiar burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, you knew you were going to become undone soon all thanks to Harry’s tongue.

his hand came slamming down onto your ass, the sting causing you to yell in pleasure, if there was someone standing by the exit, there was little to be left to the imagination. you grinded harder and harder, carrying yourself to your first orgasm of the evening. he licked his lips as he moved you, your thighs trembling around his hips, the belt buckle pressing against your sore clit. “fuck baby” he muttered “you taste so fucking good” he wiped the sides of his mouth with his thumb and licked it as if he had just ate a five course meal. you were a heaving mess, he gripped your waist as he undid his belt, your needy hands, helping him push his pants off.

his hard dick popping out his underwear, pre cum dripping from his pink head. your mouth watered at the view, your hands sliding down his shaft, a soft groan falling from his red lips. you slipped his dick in your mouth, the saliva from your ready lips falling down the sides of his cock. he whimpered as you gagged as he reached past your tonsils, you looked at him, his whole cock now in your mouth, you popped him back out, a hiss falling from his mouth.

your hand aided you as you put him back in your mouth, your head falling up and down as you worked his cock, he moaned loudly, his hands grabbing your hair into a neat pony tail which he pulled on as you sucked harder. your free hand fell in-between your legs where you drew circles against your clit, moans being chocked back by his cock in your mouth. “yes” he moaned “just like that”. you had no idea how you ended here but you needed him all over you.

you looked up at him with tears running down your cheeks, his cock ramming into the back of your throat, he threw his head back and moaned in pleasure, the view pushing you to your second orgasm. he pulled you away from his cock, his thumb wiping away saliva from your lips, he flipped you over, your eyes fell on the camera “smile” he moaned as he slipped himself inside you, the feeling of him stretching you out drawing whimpers from your lips, his hand fell to your pussy, his thumb pressed against your clit as he trusted in and out of you.

“fuckk” he groaned, he buried his head in your neck as he pounded into you now, the sound of your skin clashing against his creating clapping echo's inside the studio. you felt your legs burning, your third orgasm nearing, his hand came down hard against the skin of your ass, a hiss leaving your lips at the harsh sensation, your pussy becoming wetter against his girth. “harry” you moaned, he quickly pulled out, swiftly laying you down on the couch, he laid ontop of you, slipping inside you, his hooded eyes consuming your naked skin “i want to see you when you cum” he moaned, his rosy lips leaving pecks on your neck “i want to take a mental photograph” he picked up his pace as he fucked you fast, his hands gripping onto your hips.

you threw your head back in pleasure, your orgasm causing your muscles to loosen, your whole body trembling with complete bliss. “oh god, you are so fucking beautiful” he moaned as he came. you brushed your hands through his now relaxed curls, both your bodies exhausted & sore. “i think i got it” he spoke, you furrowed your eyebrows, confused at his comment. “what do you mean?” he laughed “the pictures, i think i got it” you blushed as you looked over at the camera “i know those wont be on the cover”.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #watermelon sugar high #fine line

274 notes · View notes