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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #mafia boss price #mafia!price #assistant reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au

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yumeka-sxf · 2 months

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New chapter today, and even though most of it seemed to continue the silly tone from the previous one, the last few pages actually shocked me! 👀

For the first time, ANYA CONFESSED TO SOMEONE THAT SHE CAN READ MINDS! Now this doesn't necessarily mean anything crazy will happen in the series from now on, since Damian doesn't believe her (at first). But proving that you can read minds is easy to do, so the question now becomes, will Anya keep trying to prove it to Damian until he believes her? Or will she regret it later and not try to prove it, and then the plot point isn't touched on again? Regardless, this chapter definitely makes it seem like Damian will be the first person to know about her mind-reading powers.

Then there's the question of why Anya chose to confess this to Damian? I think it's a combination of a few reasons, the main one being that Damian doesn't have any connection to her family, so little risk of him telling them and thus bringing about the fear of abandonment Anya has should they find out. This might also be why she chose to tell him over Becky, since Becky already has somewhat of a relationship with Loid and Yor. The other reason could be that, as time has gone on, she's learned to trust him, at least when it comes to something like this. As hostile as he is towards her, she knows that he's not a double-crosser or a blabbermouth, and deep down he wants to do what's right. And lastly, it was the heat of a moment - her knowledge about him seemed weird so he questioned it, and perhaps at that highlighted moment, when Damian was being genuinely nice to her (since she can read minds, she knows if he's being genuine or not), she wanted to try not lying for once, just to see what happens.

Guess we'll have to wait until next time to see if anything ground-breaking comes from this...will Anya keep pursuing this, will she regret it and let Damian continue to not believe her, or will it just not be mentioned again until later? This reminded me a bit of the Mole Hunt arc where Yuri became suspicious of Loid, but the latter was able to throw him off the track. But the seed of suspicious was planted nonetheless. In this case, even if Damian continues to think Anya was lying, a seed of suspicion may have been planted in him too that could come into play much later on. We'll see!

But besides this big event, a few other notable things in this chapter was super rare soft Damian from the above page. This continues to prove what I've always thought - that Damian acts the way he does to appear "proper" in front of his peers, but when he's alone with Anya, his real feelings seep out. She's a rare person where he doesn't feel the need to put on airs around.

We also got more Henderson x Martha crumbs. Love to see it.

Also loved to see Anya getting cocky and Loid freaking out about it 😅

Overall, even though I'm not as into Damianya as I am Twiyor, I still enjoy seeing their progress, and this chapter was definitely one of the most Damianya-chapters of all~ Despite some of the "dance with Damian" challenges being a bit too silly for my taste (like, how did Emile and Ewen organize all that last minute?) the payoff at the end was worth it! Loid and Yor better get themselves together or their daughter will end up beating them in the romance department 😂

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #loid forger #anya forger #damian desmond #damianya #sxf spoilers #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers

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lisafication · 6 months

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This post is uh, extremely normal I swear

So hello yes I am absolutely On My Bullshit regarding my new favourite game.

That’s right, it’s the cannibal incest game, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And I’m here to shove five thousand words of pretentious analysis down your throat because, and I do not exaggerate, I think it is one of, if not the best written game I have ever played. And I have played a lot of games, including Baldur’s Gate 3, Final Fantasy XIV and Undertale, to name a few narrative luminaries to come to mind.

That wordcount is not an exaggeration. My brainworms are extremely powerful and now you can share them with me as I walk you through my insane skyscraper of inference-driven analysis.

Or you can click away. I really wouldn’t blame you, it’s quite a lot.

Content Warnings: …Yes?

(To drop the bit for a moment, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley covers extremely disturbing material and challenges you to examine aspects of living in this world that many have taken for granted all their life, it is not a comfortable game, this will cover similar topics and will often echo the game’s unremitting scepticism on basic principles of society and humanity and you should look after yourself first. My Content Warning is framed as a joke, but it’s also quite real in that the game is designed to make you uncomfortable and there’s no shame in that not being for you.)

This was originally posted on and formatted for Sufficient Velocity, and you can probably more easily read and discuss it with me here.

With that said, let’s dig in. I have had to split this into multiple posts because tumblr will only allow so many images. There will be spoilers for all endings.

She’s excited, are you?

It’s All About Ashley

It really is, isn’t it? I mean, for approximately eighty percent of the total game as currently released and the entirety of Episode 1, you’re in control of Ashley, just as she’s in control of her and Andrew’s relationship for 80% of the game, up until the various ending sequences where it begins to slip. The only other characters who really matter at all in and of themselves are Andrew and her mother — and the former is under her thumb, and she eats the latter. It’s all about Ashley. Even her obsession with Andrew is, ultimately, about Ashley.

But who is Ashley? What is Ashley? Why is Ashley, even? Let’s take a look.

Ashley as presented to us in Episode 1 is very straightforward, so let’s list off the traits we’re given — she is malicious, she is fearless, she lacks empathy, she doesn’t have anything resembling a conscience, she demands Andrew belong to her and her alone, she has him at her beck and call.

In Episode 2, we’re ostensibly shown how she has him at her beck and call— she leverages the threat of reporting Nina’s death over him and had him swear to be with her forever. We’re shown that even as a child she was “just, like that” — but as a child, she hadn’t learnt to live with it yet, to laugh at the farce of it all.

Yeah, exactly like that!

And she does this throughout Episode 1 — The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a remarkably silly game much of the time, finding moments of absurdity and levity against a backdrop blacker than pitch — and most of the time, your internal narration is coming from Ashley and the jokes will not-infrequently come at her own expense.

She will later get negged by her human sacrifice for her poor ritual circle drawing

Her reaction to being told that her soul is as dark and viscous as tar is “You guess you already knew that” — it’s confirmation to her, not new information. Ashley knows who she is. But who taught her this? There’s layers to this, nothing in this game is as simple and straightforward as it appears at first sight, which is why I’ve been obsessing over it for days.

While it’s common in fiction, the truth of the matter is, most ‘bad people’ really do think they’re good people. But Ashley has never once thought of herself as a good person — or perhaps better put as a person worthy of love — as we learn across Episodes 1 & 2, with our flashbacks to Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!!

I really wish I had space in this essay to talk about this, but I’d like to touch on these being traits usually more easily forgiven in young boys than young girls at some point.

If she removes all other options, only then can she expect him to like her.

This is something that is echoed in the modern day — her seeming self-assurance is easily shaken and she reaches out to the world — usually Andrew — to affirm and validate her, soothing her insecurities, using any tool she deems necessary. Even when her life is on the line when Andrew has her by the throat at the climax of Episode 1, the only ‘compelling reason’ she can give Andrew to not kill her is her ability to soothe his nightmares. When he tells her there are sleeping pills for that…

Most people would have a bit more to argue for their existence.

While she, unlike Andrew, acknowledges having had friends before the quarantine… you know she’s got a point that they didn’t even bother to answer her calls, that was clearly not something the state was interfering with given Andrew’s calls with his mother and his girlfriend, and given her general demeanour it’s not hard to imagine that… they weren’t ever very close. When we see her and Nina talk in the infamous ‘box scene’, it’s clear that Nina doesn’t like her very much, despite Andrew’s assessment of Nina as being one of Ashley’s friends.

We see further support for her general lack of companionship in her dream sequence in the Burial route — Leyley and Leyley Alone. No matter what you do, you can’t place the pink plushy at the family table, the flowers won’t bloom if you give the Julia and Nina plushies her own as a companion instead of Andrew’s — and if you’re bold enough to go for the ‘incest route’, in the ‘Love’ room you see that no one ever looks happy to be with her in the childlike depictions of her history, nor is she happy in turn, save for when she’s with Andrew. In a bit of heavy-handed metaphor, the player then overwrites all of these tense, upset, hard moments with Andrew, having him fill in for everyone else in life — and happy with her.

Once Upon A Lousy Life…

THE END

And that’s why she needs him to affirm her, because no one else ever has and no one else ever will. It’s even included in their comic beats — when the siblings are getting along well, they’ll often play a game where Andrew dramatically overpraises Ashley while she demands more; it’s a comedic bit but I mean — it really does matter to her!

For the record, she opened a door. She gets a little heart in a speech bubble after this exchange.

We have a great example of this dynamic, that of insecurity and affirmation, in Episode 1, after Andrew has killed for her, butchered for her, his girlfriend broke up with her, he’s seemingly thrown his entire life away for her… she’s still insecure over her relationship with him, she’s uncertain of her control and she needs him to reaffirm it for her.

This is her victory, surely?

Andrew affirms her once, with his usual dead-eyed look.

But she's still not so sure.

He actively reaches out to affirm her again with cheer.

Look how happy she is!

While it’s most obvious and clear cut here, it’s hardly the only case. Let’s look back to the aftermath of Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!! (I’m not using the other name). Leyley is, after similarly extreme acts — he murdered a girl and hid her body for her — convinced Andy doesn’t like her and she needs this leverage to keep him around, to meet her basic needs for survival. Because that’s what this is — she receives no care of affection elsewhere, so she forces it out of the only source she sees available through the means she sees as necessary.

I really hope we see some of their earlier childhood in Episode 3

What exactly made her like this? Was it just neglect, or something more specific…

She needs this to be the case because otherwise she doesn’t believe he’d stay.

This pattern repeats throughout — Ashley’s insecurities are hit on and she reaches out to Andy to affirm that she is not alone, and she will use any and every tool to exploit her ostensible control over him and force him to be what she needs him to be — and as long as she has that, as long as she is everything to him and it’s not possible for him to leave, she’s happy. As long as she thinks he loves her in her very particular, very peculiar view of love, she’s content, come what may. As long as Andy and Leyley are together, they can take on the world.

Let’s talk about that view of love, because there’s always more layers to unpack here I’m only scratching the surface with this essay — Ashley consistently refers to anyone else Andrew may have befriended or spent time with as a whore, a slut, a bitch — highly gendered insults that bring to mind the idea that he’s cheating in some way. But it’s not even about sex — when Andrew mentions that their parents had friends, she accuses them of cheating on each other in the same way!

There’s a lot to unpack about Ashley’s view of femininity and the role the patriarchy plays in their relationship.

Any kind of emotional engagement, any kind of commitment, any kind of life outside of your significant other is, to Ashley, cheating. Because that’s what she needs from Andrew, a seeming complete and total commitment, secure in her place as the only thing in his life, because she cannot understand anyone picking her if they have a choice.

This insecurity she has in her relationship is what drives her to empower the trinket — he can’t leave her as long as she can protect him with prophetic dreams, after all. She needs every kind of leverage she can get because until she succeeds in being everything to him, in devouring him so completely she has him in her thrall mind, body and soul she can’t be sure of herself — hell, her dream sequence in Burial has you placing Andrew’s signature green plushy, ‘the best thing in the world’ in a cage far away from anything else.

Ultimately, it really is all about Ashley — even her seeming obsession with Andrew ultimately comes back to her own insecurities. If she is everything to ‘the best thing in the world’, some of that ‘best’ must surely reflect on her!

But that’s enough about the more normal, straightforward and understandable sibling.

That was not a joke.

Andrew’s Rank 100 Deception

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.

Let me explain.

You might have noticed that in the previous section I often use language such as ‘ostensibly’ or ‘seemingly’ to describe Andy and Leyley’s relationship, and there’s a good reason for that. From the beginning of the game through to its end, Andrew is lying to you, the player, without ever falsely representing or misinforming you about events that occurred.

The common, or obvious ‘initial take’ on Andrew as presented in Episode 1 is fairly straightforward. The game primes you to think this way, it frames things and strings reveals just right so as to make it very easy to overlook the incongruities it introduces in Episode 2. He’s a victim. Plain and simple, Ashley is his abuser and he is her victim and would be fine, a normal albeit kinda depressed guy without her.

It really is not a difficult conclusion to draw

You can go all the way through the game, have him try to accept his mother’s olive branch and enter the Decay route as a method for him to finally actualise his desire to get out from Ashley’s thumb and it makes sense, it’s a reasonable way for the story to go, given his character.

You see him this way because the game primes you in Episode 1 to view their relationship like Andrew does — he’s lying. He’s lying to himself, he’s lying to Ashley and he’s so good at it — Deception Rank 100 — he even lies to you. Without misrepresenting a single event or otherwise misleading you directly, the game gets you to buy into his preferred self-perception. Nina? Ashley. Julia? Ashley. The murders they commit in the course of the game? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, it’s not his fault he’s not to blame he’s just a doormat at the beck and call of his demonic sister.

But he wants to be there. From the very outset, the very first puzzle, that’s made clear. Does anyone else remember this exchange, from right at the beginning of the game?

Ashley wants to investigate the music!

Andrew disapproves…

…Or does he?!

Like. Listen. Okay. You do not frown when saying ‘Nope’ and then smile when saying that you’ll instead tag along if they do it if your heart is at all in the no. That’s not an objection, that’s using Ashley as his excuse. Especially if you immediately throw her the balcony key that she could not possibly have gotten from you by force (more on Andrew’s ability to use force later).

This is the very first time you control both characters together with Andrew following Ashley instead of off on his own, the first adventure, the first puzzle!

But put a pin in that for now, let’s talk about his initial framing in Episode 2 first. Episode 1 has set us up to, generally speaking, believe the superficial framing of the siblings as portrayed in its promotional art:

The question that we then ask, right at the heart of it is… why is he a doormat? We explore this in his dream sequence in Episode 2, which does make it clear that the boy’s not okay but— it’s real easy, given the priming from Episode 1 to make you think that he’s the one with the originally functional moral compass, to think that that him being fucked up is damage done to him by Nina’s death and being bound to Ashley for his entire life. She corrupted him.

But, well, is that the case?

You're primed to ignore this as manipulation (which it is) but the best manipulation has some truth to it.

Precisely two things spur Andrew to action in the entire game, consistently — they are the fear of consequences and Ashley. And the first incident of that fear, the very first time we’re shown his seeming moral compass as a kid — the first time it’s really hammered home that it’s a fear of consequences rather than any true moral qualms is after Nina’s death. And why does he fear consequences here?

……

The ‘natural’ read that many take away from this sequence, particularly those who have only played Decay, is that Ashley browbeat him into doing this against his will, using emotional blackmail to overwhelm his objections, and then used the event itself to bind him to her forever as her personal doormat.

In a strict sense, this is true. But this doesn’t match up with the details, something the game uses shock to encourage you to overlook. That outburst is before any kind of threat has been made, and absolutely nothing either of them say anything about it being morally bad until Ashley weaponises ‘you’re a bad person’ against Andrew — morality didn’t seem to enter his mind or the equation at all until Ashley brought it up. More than that, his greatest fear and driving motivation even prior to that is, as shown above, being taken away from Ashley.

She, of course, recognises this and uses it against him. But she never needed to, it didn’t change anything about Andrew’s attachment to her, it was there to address her own insecurities.

Just like to touch on how a lot of his affirmations are preceded by him confirming her insecurities.

I adore this phrasing

There’s a second prong to this as well, to the question of ‘who really calls the shots here’ because — Andrew can, at any stage, apply an ‘ultimate veto’ of physical violence. The game is very clear to the player that that is on the table — even when they were children, when Andy swears their blood oath, he briefly considers killing her — and take note of how he ultimately got a ‘winning’ condition out of her by not specifying there wouldn’t be others and she is forced to accept that, there. Even outside of their most serious confrontations, Ashley is portrayed as having to convince, manipulate or otherwise coerce Andrew into going along with her schemes — she really can’t make him do anything, she doesn’t have the supremacy in violence and, to a lesser extent, capability that would allow her to.

Andrew, you are like ten years old.

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this. He needs her.

But it’s true that he hates her, too. He has to hate her, because if he doesn’t hate her, if he isn’t forced to have done this, that means… he’s responsible. And nothing, at the start of the story, is as important to Andrew as avoiding the consequences of his own actions, not even Ashley. By the midpoint, he loves her, he hates her, he can’t live without her, he wants to kill her — by the end… well, that depends if you’re on Decay or Burial, but more on that in a bit.

A great scene to study for this dynamic is the climax of Episode 1, when Andrew grabs Ashley by the throat and considers strangling her to death. She’s pushed him too far with hurtful words and assault, and he’s seemingly had enough.

It’s still framed as a question of risk, of consequences happening to him.

Like, this is not the usual behaviour of someone who’s been pushed past their breaking point.

He tells Ashley that he wants to kill her, because she’s just going to throw another fit and that’s a risk to him. She is… not framed as being able to fight back (she does have a gun here, and more on that in a later essay, maybe). He’s so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence here, which isn’t at all what you’d expect of someone about to commit a crime of passion… but it’s very easy to overlook because of the abuser/victim narrative that the player fits his behaviour into the narrative that the game primes them to accept, brushing incongruities under the carpet.

At the start of Episode 2, we get to control Andrew for the first time, and the first obvious holes in his cover start to show. Some of this is optional — you only learn that he’s been faking having nightmares in order to share a bed with Ashley if you choose to go back into the motel room and check the bed, for example — but not all of it.

----(See reblogs for the second half)

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #andrew graves #ashley graves #spoilers #multipost

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xianyoon · 17 days

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if i had a flower for every time i thought of you

alhaitham x gn reader walking through a garden with him reupload from my old blog @.i23kazu fluff + 0.5k words

al haitham's walks are practical. they are never for fun, nor the love for sunshine or feeling the grass beneath his feet – his feet always have a place in mind. they take him where he needs to be. they had never walked with the lightness of romanticisation, nor with the whimsy or delightful for the fun of it –

– until you.

he's lighter– happier, even, now that this angel of a person sits across him with the most darling smile to grace his presence.

"would you care to accompany me on a walk?" al haitham asks one day, and he turns to meet your curious gaze.

"you'd like to go on a walk?" you push yourself off your seat at the counter. "i don't mind accompanying you."

"is it truly that surprising?" a soft sigh parts his lips – he looks almost disappointed, even. you tiptoe to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, smiling as you watch his features turn upwards in quiet delight.

ask him a year ago if he desired anything like this, and he might have scoffed lightly and turned away.

"no," you giggle and set your heels down. "i guess it's just not something you see every day."

silently, you grab his hand – it's so much bigger than yours – and you can feel him squeeze it a just little tighter today. his hands are warm and big, rough and calloused but they also fit perfectly with the curve of your hands. it's perfect.

al haitham looks happier, you think to yourself as the grass beneath your feet greets you with a gentle hello. the flowers sway in the afternoon breeze, and the sun seems to hide away a little, in fear of burning you – it's so pleasant outside today... perhaps he's in a good mood because of that?

you watch him as he hums softly, peering at the prettysome wildflowers below.

"come here, darling," he motions, pointing you to look towards the flowers that sprouted up.

"there's so many, hayi. it's beautiful." you gasp softly, grasping onto his fingers tenderly.

he smiles, and mumbles something under his breath.

"what was that?" you tug on his arm, looking into his eyes. he looks almost embarrassed to say it louder. he clears his throat and glances back at the wildflowers.

"if i had a flower for every time i thought of you, i could walk through my garden endlessly."

you're standing there, pleasantly surprised– shocked, even– into silence. did you hear that right?

"eh?" is the only thing that leaves your lips.

"..forget i said anything, it's alright." al-haitham pats your head, albeit awkwardly – flushed and maybe the tiniest bit embarrassed.

he silently wishes he hadn't said anything at all– silly alhaitham, who was he for thinking that someone of his demeanour would ever pepper his words with that like a lovesick fool?

"nooooo, al haitham!" you whine softly, nuzzling against his shoulder. "that was so sweet! i was just .. taken aback, with how sweet your words were."

"is it not obvious enough how infatuated i am with you?" he rests his head atop yours, breathing lightly and lovingly squeezing you tighter.

the next thing he feels is a gentle, saccharine sweet kiss being pressed against his lips – he's hungry for more, now, ravenous even – like a monster yearning for an ounce of love. maybe he wouldn't mind being the lovesick fool, just this once, if it was you.

#― latest brew.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin fluff #alhaitham fluff #genshin drabbles #al haitham x reader #al haitham x gn reader #al haitham x you #al haitham x y/n #nereids' realm #astronetwrk

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crevicedwelling · 8 months

Note

hello! i am a relatively new user here on tumblr, less than a year, and i have heard a comment or two about a 'wasp discourse' that happened here, that wasps are much more nice than bees or something among those lines

this caught my curiosity as im writting a wasp based character whos just an ahole as i did it on what i knew abt them from general internet and im stuck on wether i should maaayybe change them up a bit

if its not too much to ask do you happen to know a bit abt this discourse? or have a link to it? or if not to the discourse itself some other link that elaborates abt the same topic? perhaps even someone else i can ask this?

thank you very much!

to start off, there are a lot of bees and wasps in this world and it is not easy to generalize about them. there are ~20,000 bee species, and the vast majority of these are solitary bees that nest in the ground, plant stems, or in holes in wood, and because they produce no honey or have a colony to guard, have no need to be defensive or aggressive towards humans (because “towards humans” seems to be what most people base this idea off of). colonial bees, like honeybees, are actually much more defensive than solitary ones; they have huge food stores and many defenseless larvae, hence their nasty stings (or bites, for the stingless bees) and swarm defense of their hives.

bees, however, are just a family of wasps. their closest relatives are believed to be the crabronid wasps (example: cicada killers) and sphecid thread-waisted wasps (ex. mud daubers). these wasps, and most others, are also largely solitary, and hunting prey aside, don’t typically use their stings for anything other than personal defense. of the hundreds of thousands of wasps, most of them (75%) are not just solitary but also parasitoids that develop inside other insects. it’s hard to say “all wasps are assholes [to people]” when some 100,000 of them are tiny specks smaller than sesame seeds that nobody other than scientists notice.

two parasitoids: a braconid ~3mm long & something else ~0.3mm long

the wasps most people take issue with are vespids, since they like the same foods we do (sweets, meat) and have powerful stings to defend their nests. these include the social hornets, yellowjackets, and paper wasps, but many mason wasps and the like are solitary (and, you guessed it, want nothing to do with people). vespids are great predators of caterpillars, flies, and other pests that humans don’t like in addition to being pollinators.

a yellowjacket: Vespula squamosa

the usual anti-wasp, pro-bee sentiments go: wasps attack for no reason, don’t pollinate, don’t make honey, and are “assholes.” wasps do pollinate (most wasps, bees and ants don’t eat solid food, and therefore largely drink flower nectar; some plants are only pollinated by wasps).

some tropical wasps do actually make honey, though it’s not harvested by humans. it’s sort of silly to say that making honey is what makes bees “good” though—a very selfish mindset, and for example butterflies are well-liked by people despite not making any edible products for us.

wasps also attack only when provoked, either because you’re near a wasp nest or when you lean on one accidentally. they are defending their baby sisters and themselves, same as bees would. at least in the US, I think the reason that wasps are so hated is that we have many species of paper wasp and yellowjacket that are willing to nest on or under houses, while the (invasive) honeybees prefer trees or are kept by beekeepers in artificial hives, so it’s just more likely you’ll run into problems with wasps than bees.

tl;dr:

wasps and bees are neither “nice” nor “mean.”

bees are mostly loners that don’t bother people. colonial bees will sting to defend their nests or themselves from predators. most bees are pollinators, who gather pollen to feed their larvae. a few species make honey that humans harvest.

wasps are mostly loners that don’t bother people. colonial wasps will sting to defend their nests or themselves from predators. most wasps are pollinators, and most hunt or parasitize other insects to feed their larvae.

#bugs #Hymenoptera #wasps #bees

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ghoastixx · 3 months

Text

Alastor w/ teenage human reader

A.N: gender neutral reader. You insert your name at ‘____’

Warnings: abusive parents mentioned, Alastor being a bit intimidating for a while, this is very self indulgent so yeah!

Goodness…how did the radio demon stoop so low as to be collecting human souls? Honestly what a pity..

To be honest Alastor didn’t even really know what had happened. One moment he had been drinking some tea on the balcony of the hotel, enjoying some absolutely dreary sights, and then he just.. wasn’t-

It caught him off guard to say the least. His ear laid back as his claws gripped his mic tightly. His smile never faltering.

“Holy fuck it worked!” A voice rang out, sounding astonished and a bit..too alive. Alastor’s eyes drifted down a little bit to see a child. …are you serious. He had been summoned by a child. How humiliating.

‘_____’ looked up at the demon. They had to admit, they were a lot more terrified than they would’ve liked to of been. The two just sort of looked at each other for a while before the child spoke up. Getting off of their kneeling position.

“Are you..the radio demon?” Their voice was meek and curious. It was intriguing that a child was able to do all of this. Alastor’s smile hitched up his face,

“Why yes I am! I’m assuming you’re the human that summoned me.” His smile widened when the kid tensed at his static-y voice. The radio filter never letting him down.

“W-well yeah.” They stuttered, showing vulnerability. That was going to be their first mistake. “I-“ now they were stammering, “I didn’t think it would work- honestly. I was just trying to humor myself.” Alastor was starting to get pissy, he had more important things to do than talk to a human that didn’t even know what they were doing.

“You summon a very powerful demon for fun?” His voice sounded rough, that static becoming more prominent as he got angrier.

“Well- I didn’t really think about this. This stuff doesn’t happen! I- I read a lot and of course there was that rumor going around on how to actually summon one and I just-“ the kids rambling was interrupted by a yell from downstairs. The kid winced at a thud that followed shortly after and the sound of a female voice filled with rage. The sound was almost too familiar to the radio demon.

“There wasn’t anything you wanted? Nothing at all?” He asked impatiently. When the kid sheepishly shook their head he got ready to go back to hell, but then he heard another thump which got him thinking. Why waste a trip? Perhaps there was a deal to be made here. “Say kid, why don’t we make a deal?”

“A deal..? Isn’t it frowned upon to make deals with demons? There’s like..so many songs about that.” The kid was smart, Alastor didn’t like that.

“Nonsense! I’m looking out for your best interest, little fawn. I think you’re very smart, I want to show that. If you give me your soul, let me take care of it, find me human souls, I will make sure that you do not rot in this silly little town. These people around you will not weigh you down.”

It seemed Alastor hit the nail on the head when he saw the consideration in the kids eyes. I mean- of course! A small kid who is summoning demons? In a small town? Arguing parents? Why wouldn’t they want out! And it seemed Alastor was right too, when the kid looked at the smiling demon and tensed.

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

The first time Alastor came back up to visit the soul he learned was ‘____’ he was quite impressed by the work they had done. The kid explained the type of people that would definitely be going to hell, all for the demon’s delicious picking. The first visit was strictly business.

It was the second meeting that became more personal.

‘_____’ looked up from the book they were reading, the music that they had playing softly from their radio turning staticy. They had been trying to drown out the sound of the constant screaming and whining.

“Is that a radio?” A loud static voice made ‘____’ jump. Obviously they hadn’t been expecting dear Alastor, who laughed heartily at the sudden jump.

“Damn it- scared the piss out of me-“ the fawn mumbled. Alastor thought they were like a fawn at least. Skiddish and soft. Curious. He thought it was a good comparison.

“I do apologize my dear! But please do answer, I thought radio went out of style in this day of age.”

“Well, it’s certainly not as common anymore, but it hasn’t gone completely out of style. Records have made a bigger comeback than radio.”

“How curious,” Alastor hummed, the sound of it immediately grabbing the fawn’s attention. It humored him how easily he could get the focus on him. A bang was heard on the wall with an incoherent yell, the only eligible word being “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

‘_____’ shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious that they were trying to lose themselves in the radio. Alastor was starting to really like the little fawn, so he considered something.

Suddenly green fumes embedded themselves into the radio, making a static sound. The fawn looked up curiously,

“What did you do to my radio.”

“Patience, you’ll be able to tune into my broadcasts now. It’s only fair.”

The kid simply nodded. And they would listen to it. Because when Alastor decided to visit again for his souls, the kid would tell him it was quite morbid, but they liked the song selection.

This continued for a good while, the little fawn would tell Al about the new age for humans and Alastor would help distant the kid from their parents. If anything it boosted his ego, he felt like more of a stable figure for this kid than their own parents. And that would be put to the test when Alastor popped in only to see the little fawn curled up on the corner of their bed, so upset.

His ears flattened as his smile was forced. He couldn’t stand to see his little fawn so upset. He wasn’t sure when it became his little fawn instead of the little fawn, but he liked it better. It felt more appropriate.

“Now now, little fawn. I’m here, it’s alright.” He tried his best to console the little one.

Perhaps it was time to renegotiate their deal. Perhaps he could form this kid into a better version of themselves.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to get this kid into hell.

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #platonic Alastor x reader

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finniestoncrane · 3 months

Text

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes

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i23kazu · 3 months

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if i had a flower for every time i thought of you, i could walk through my garden endlessly. | alhaitham x reader, sfw ── wc : 571

– until you.

he's lighter– happier, even, now that this angel of a person sits across him with the most darling smile to grace his presence.

"would you care to accompany me on a walk?" al haitham asks one day, and he turns to meet your curious gaze. he can see a flicker of hope

"you'd like to go on a walk?" you push yourself off your seat at the counter. "i don't mind accompanying you."

ask him a year ago if he desired anything like this, and he might have scoffed lightly and turned away.

"no," you giggle and set your heels down. "i guess it's just not something you see every day."

you watch him as he hums softly, peering at the prettysome wildflowers below.

"come here, darling," he motions, pointing you to look towards the flowers that sprouted up.

"there's so many, hayi. it's beautiful." you gasp softly, grasping onto his fingers tenderly.

he smiles, and mumbles something under his breath.

"what was that?" you tug on his arm, looking into his eyes. he looks almost embarrassed to say it louder. he clears his throat and glances back at the wildflowers.

"if i had a flower for every time i thought of you, i could walk through my garden endlessly."

you're standing there, pleasantly surprised– shocked, even– into silence. did you hear that right?

"eh?" is the only thing that leaves your lips.

"..forget i said anything, it's alright." al-haitham pats your head, albeit awkwardly – flushed and maybe the tiniest bit embarrassed.

he silently wishes he hadn't said anything at all– silly alhaitham, who was he for thinking that someone of his demeanour would ever pepper his words with that like a lovesick fool?

"nooooo, al haitham!" you whine softly, nuzzling against his shoulder. "that was so sweet! i was just .. taken aback, with how sweet your words were."

"is it not obvious enough how infatuated i am with you?" he rests his head atop yours, breathing lightly and lovingly squeezing you tighter.

#long post #[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x gn reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham drabble #genshin drabbles #alhaitham fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin imagines

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theabigailthorn · 3 months

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An Off-Brand Post About the Kim Petras Concert

this post isn't about acting or youtube stuff I just want to say I had a really fun time at the Kim Petras concert last night :)

I saw her four years ago and wow, she's really gotten better - like she was a good singer before but now she's really got the pipes! Great outfits, great backup dancers, also shout out the guy who mopped the stage before she came on: I see you working hard to make it safe and enjoyable for everyone, thanks buddy!

Thank you so much to all the people who recognised me and came up and say hello: I'm really touched by how much you enjoy my work? I often feel that what I make is silly or not good enough but it makes me so happy when people get something out of it. I'm also so happy you're excited for Dracula's Ex-Girlfriend!

Shout out to the cute girl who hit on me as we were leaving and gave me her number. You might have googled me by now, perhaps you found this post - hello! I'll text you when I get back from LA; I think you might be a bit young for me 'cause you mentioned you're a final year student, but hey maybe we can just go for a friendly coffee and chat about the concert :) I need to get a burner phone first (I've had problems in the past with stalkers pretending not to know who I am) so I may not give you my actual number until we've gotten to know each other properly - sorry, my life is strange sometimes, being a public figure makes it hard to meet people but I'm flattered you approached me

Also, the opening act - Georgia - WOW, she was so good! What a talent! I'm gonna check out her music, she was so heartfelt and it was amazing how she played the drums and keyboard and sang all at once! I gave her a big thumbs up and she smiled at me!

I was the only person in the venue wearing a mask? Made me feel slightly odd but I have to film a movie next week and I didn't want to get sick, so. (I took it off to snap a quick selfie, which was perhaps a little cheeky but I wanted to remember how much I was smiling)

Wild that the last time I saw Kim I was still in the closet! How times change!

#Kim Petas #lmao who is Kim Petas?#I meant Kim Petras obviously #Kim Petras #Can't Even Spell #Seriously Though Earplugs Are A Great Move Can't Recommend Enough #That first pic is so funny lol you can almost see the Transgendification Rays entering my body

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shaisuki · 6 months

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Can you do (separate scenarios of course <3)Bachira, Nagi, Chigiri, and whoever else you’d like to add in a scenario where their chubby and soft girlfriend tries her hardest not to be insecure about her body but the insecurity really sneaks up on her a lot? So like, when the bfs find out, not only do they comfort her, but they show her just how much they love and adore her body if you catch my drift <3 Thank you so much!!

ENDLESS ADORATION

ft. bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, barou shoei

content warnings ─── body insecurities, self-loathing, body dysphoria, smut, mean barou, implied fingering, degradation.

notes. i'm so sorry it took so long nonnie. it wasn't deleted or anything but i hope you like it, nonnie. thank you for requesting!

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ don't ever let them catch you being insecure about your body, they had plenty of ways to show you how much they adore your body and you.

BACHIRA MEGURU

“you could be so mean to me, baby.” he whispers. his hands roaming all over to the expanse of your soft body. his bright yellow eyes glowing more than ever at its reflection in the mirror.

he got you trapped from his grip. his arms snaking to your soft middle while his jaw rests on your shoulder. caught in the middle of you criticizing yourself and bachira wouldn't allow that. “how selfish.” he mutters. his teeth grazing at the shell of your ear and it sends the slightest of tremors throughout your body.

you can't help but to tear up a bit. “h—how am i selfish, megu?” you stammer. avoiding your reflection at the large mirror in front of you. you don't want to see yourself nor catch him staring at you with those round eyes of his. so full of life, enthusiasm. confidence. a thing that you will never attain.

“you're selfish for hating, keeping this body that is mine. who gave you that idea, hmm? it's not your place to judge this body that i dearly love and its owner.” he hums, chuckling that it reverberates to your skin and to your aching core. his palm gliding through your stomach lifting the pesky clothing to reveal the stomach that's far from being leaned nor toned. it is round, the excess fat protruding giving you the impression of a pouch but bachira could careless about it. his fingers sinking to the soft flesh, like paws of cat kneading and pressing the fleshiness of your skin.

“what if this cute stomach of yours is flat? i couldn't hold it. what i am going to do with my hands...” he mutters, pinching your stomach then his fingers glides through the skin of your thighs. “this thighs of yours, how is it going to crush me if this isn't that thick, warm me even. so selfish.” prying your thighs open and his hand settles to the mound between them. slender and nimble fingers brushing through your panties. rubbing your slit and a huge grin plastered in his face when the wetness of your fat pussy began to drench your panties.

“don't be mean to this body of mine, baby. perhaps i'll show you what i'm capable of to make those silly ideas forming in your head disappear.” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your round cheek.

“i hope you can take me cause i ain't stopping.” bachira's eyes glowing more than ever and you know what it means when he get this riled up. his grin wider and you braced yourself. you know it all too well and you accepted it.

those thoughts of yours wouldn't be visiting you anytime soon after bachira had fucked you into oblivion.

NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi isn't insecure.

the word is foreign to him and the feeling of it. he's lazy, unmotivated and such unwanted thoughts isn't welcome and worth worrying over. why would he bother with such thing when in the first he didn't care. that's what he thought until he met you.

his soft, chubby girlfriend who had been nothing but loving and supporting to him. nagi didn't quite the gist when he caught you staring at yourself in the mirror with a frown in your lips. he only looks at you briefly before going back to his console. paying it no mind since when did nagi felt of being insecure.

then it began to affect him and yours. mostly yours. when you began to push his affections.

“seishiro, not now please.” your voice coming in a low whisper. gently pushing your white haired boyfriend in his head. shifting into more of a comfortable position in your bed. nagi groans, lips curling into a frown. a rare occurrence of him. he doesn't get upset since he don't like giving things the benefit of his time when he can give it to something more important.

he doesn't stop though. his huge build hovering above yours before putting his whole weight to yours. “sei!” you scolded him but nagi didn't listen burying his face in to your neck. nuzzling like a cat, he's almost purring from it.

he shakes his head. interlocking his fingers with yours. placing it beside yours and you were left powerless against your boyfriend's overwhelming strength. his lips finding refuge in your neck, tongue moving to lick the soft spot of your neck.

this isn't nagi who would make an effort to go down in you. well, at times when he's feeling it. the need to show you how much he loves you.

“pretty.” he murmurs. his hand now holding your thigh even though his large palm engulfs the majority of your thigh it wasn't enough to cover how big it was. placing it beside his torso grind his bulge to your cunt. “i always need you, want you.” he says. pressing a sloppy, lazy kiss to your lips.

nagi isn't good at words but he's willing to try for his soft, chubby girlfriend. it would be troublesome if he can't get his girl out of those thoughts of hers.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

chigiri's blessed with his looks that every people that within his eyesight cranes their neck to marvel at his looks. it didn't matter that he was rather feminine than other girls and he gets teased a lot by the guys around him. he just take after his mother.

there's no time to feel inadequate at things let alone how he perceive himself. he couldn't remember when the last time he felt insecure or been really insecure about himself and then he fell in love with you or it is that how being in love is. he have you and he was contented at that and being with you. he has to fight the battles that dwells inside you and chigiri isn't good at it. comforting another human being even it is his significant other.

so he tries. sees your eyes brimming with tears whenever he calls you pretty and he's confused.

“i'm not chigiri! look at you, you're beautiful and i'm not, you're lying.” he was taken aback at your outburst at him but he is quick to wipe your tears away while he whispers the very words that comforts you.

his sweet, crybaby.

“so, i am but you will always be my pretty baby.” brushing the loose strands of his reddish pink hair to see you better. he kisses you desperately like you were the air to fill his lungs to breathe again and you both stared at each other. he smirks when he sees you're already in a daze. mind spinning and only you can think is him.

his nimble fingers working through the garment of your panties. toying with hem before pulling at it downward to show that pretty pussy he's deprived of.

so he pumps his finger full in in your sopping hole. watch as it drips with slick coating his fingers. hear that delicious squelch while he stretches you. his ego inflating the more he hears you moan, call his name in the same breathy way that got you begging from him. all your insecurities dissipating like bubbles from the way his fingers stretches you out. he could do this forever.

wait until he fucks you dumb. you will forget those stupid insecurities along with your name.

BAROU SHOEI

barou doesn't play nice nor comfort you with those silly, sweet words that one needs to hear when in a struggle of battling with themselves. he simply doesn't need to play nice and comfort you and what only to question it again.

his actions says otherwise. he got you on all fours, your ass raised in a position you never knew you could. his hands gripping your round stomach so tight while he pounds you from the back. it is relentless. the groans and the moans mixing with one another while you hold tightly in his muscular arms his other hand cupping your jaw. forcing you to look in the mirror.

“you are nothing but my cocksleeve.” he says in between grunts. his red eyes glimmering, peering at his girlfriend who is currently sobbing, moaning like a broken record while tears streamed down at her round face. you whimper at what he just called you.

“you are. there's no denial in that. look at you, crying a baby and yet your pussy squeezing me like a whore.” the words stung and he spoke it the way he means it and barou isn't known to lie. his tongue made of barbed wires that is meant to hurt, talk about how awful everyone and you believed it that you are his own for him to use. your cries a little louder and thick droplets of your tears falling from your eyes.

it's funny how his words hurt you and it works like magic forgetting your earlier dilemma of hating yourself, of hating the body you live with.

you let him. bruise your body with his thrusts, with his touch. if this is the only way to forget everything so be it.

and so he did. he breathes in your cheek. growling at the way your cunt clenches tightly around him. you did feel so good to him. he cups your jaw harder, squishing it with much strength that you can't speak. your body reeling in sensitivity that you failed to notice how he pays attention to your soft bits. particularly to the parts where it leaves you frowning and he loves every part of you.

that's why he gives them the love, the care that you will never bother to give but available to scrutinize and he's filling out that so one day, you'll stop looking at them that they've wronged you and barou isn't the one to get mushy. he is still the hotheaded, competitive, bulky man that would not admit he loves you but his actions tells another story.

with the tight squeeze of your cunt around him, he finally reaches his high. yours and his orgasm hurling at you both that he can't help but to bite your shoulder and you — only a broken moan that music to his ears.

if this is the only way to shut you up and comfort, he'll do it over and over again until you can't speak no more and your eyes are brimmed with tears.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock #blue lock x chubby reader #bachira x reader #blue lock bachira #bachira meguru #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #chigiri x reader #chigiri hyoma #blue lock barou #barou shoei #barou shouei #barou x reader

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