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worldsover · 4 months

Text

Better Things ft. Karina, Ningning

length ✦ 7k

genres ✧ toxic relationship; cuckquean; cockwarming; degradation; needy subby gf!Ningning, hook-up!Karina

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Ningning is a doormat.

Ningning is your girlfriend.

Ningning is some girl who lives with you and if she were your girlfriend, you probably would have had sex with her before a dozen other women. If she were your girlfriend, you probably wouldn't have had sex with those women. If she weren't a doormat, she would have left when she caught you in bed with another girl the first time. Would have left when you made her watch the seventh time. Would have left after she ate your creampie out of some random girl you just met at a club. That's why you can't even bring yourself to feel guilty about taking advantage of her.

Well, that, and new pussy's better than guilt.

But to say better implies some level of good. It's fine. You're exhausted. Exhausted from work. Exhausted from dealing with people. You're so exhausted, yet Ningning greets you in the doorway with open arms and a warm hug like she has all the energy in the world. Like you've ever given her an ounce of that energy back. She's wearing a red tank top that shows off her cleavage and short shorts that cling to her toned legs. That could've worked before, could've made you carry her straight to the bedroom.

The doormat must have waited where the doormat belonged, all day, as it tightens its embrace.

Ningning releases you and gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek. The sweetest smile on her face. Eyes like your next words are precious gold. "Welcome home, babe."

Could've made you feel warm inside. You have no gold left to give. "Work was shit."

"I'm sorry," Ningning responds. "You seem stressed." She leans in for another kiss, trying to comfort and soothe you with her affection. Give Ningning an inch or six or seven, and she'll take 26 miles. You don't have the energy for a marathon.

You pull away. "I'm tired," you say dismissively, already making your way to the couch without acknowledging her further.

Ningning pouts. "Right. Of course. Go rest on the couch. I'll get you a drink."

She returns with a glass of water, but you wish it were something stronger as she settles in beside you on the couch. "You're really are tense, babe," she says with concern, running her hands over your shoulders and neck. "I... I could help. Daddy."

Your pet name sounds forced, calculated out of her mouth. It has been too long since you've truly desired or pleasured Ningning, and she makes sure you're aware of it every time she tries to initiate intimacy with you. And even when she does manage to catch your attention, it's only because other women have used her as an unwilling participant in their own sexual encounters with you.

So when she begs and pleads with you now, it's easy to brush off her advances and ignore her kisses. But as she continues to whisper promises and titles like "Take your stress out on me" and "Daddy's good girl," a dark idea begins to form in your mind.

Suddenly, Ningning's hand slips down to stroke you through your trousers and her lips attach themselves to your neck like a leech. She must sense the shift in your demeanor because she becomes more desperate and persistent in her seduction.

You remain silent, mulling over her offer. Suddenly, Ningning's grip tightens on your bulge and she exclaims "Daddy! See? You're getting hard already. That means I can use me now, right? Please, I'll be so good for you."

The rush getting to your head makes you reply in earnest for the first time. "You're right."

Ningning gasps softly, her lips forming a grin. "I-I am?"

"Yep. I need a good fuck."

Her hand slips from your pants as she springs up, jubilant and bouncing with excitement. "Yes! You deserve it," she exclaims, her eyes shining with glee. "How do you want me? Which hole do you want to jerk off with? To dump your cum into?"

You pull out your phone.

Instantly, her joy turns to disappointment as she realizes what this means. "Daddy...why? But...but why?"

You open Tinder and show her all the matches you have.

"No." She pouts, her face genuinely forlorn. "No, please, no, Daddy, I'll do anything. Not another random whore. I've been so good, I did such a good job getting you hard. Why do these sluts get your cock?"

"You barely did shit. You're not good, you're just desperate."

"Please!" She's back to clinging to your arm, back to giving you desperate pecks on your cheek and wherever she can peck, but you don't let her kiss your lips, turning your face away. "Kiss me, use me, anything! What do I have to do? Stroke your cock faster? Gag on your big Daddy dick? Be your personal porn star all day? Please, tell me, I, I need you so bad."

Your gaze vacillates between her and your phone.

"Your cum, I need it. I need you to stretch me out. Daddy, I need you to grope me, throw me around, force your dick down my throat, anything, please, I need you! Please, use your bitch."

You have made your decision. "Maybe later. After I hook up with a hotter girl. You can have seconds."

She has to hold back a tear, shuddering, trembling in frustration. "Later?"

You nod and look down at her, sternly.

"Okay. Yes. Of course, yes, Daddy, you need to… feel good after, after a stressful day. Seeing you happy is more important, and I'm not doing a good enough job."

"You're not."

She swallows hard. "Yeah. So if one of those sluts can make you feel better than me... I suppose I can wait my turn." The kisses that punctuate each of her words, that travel to wherever you allow them, slow down. She has left marks and saliva all over you.

"Are you done?" You hold up your phone. "If you want me to use you sooner, then I'll have to find someone sooner, right?"

"Yes, I understand." She sits up, her hands clasped together demurely. "Wait. But, you're still hard."

"And?"

"May I suck you, Daddy?" she asks.

You shake your head. "I've got better things to do with my time than you."

Ningning begs with her eyes, pouting and pleading. "I know, I know. I'm just a useless needy slut who can't satisfy you... but at least I can warm your cock with my mouth. Right? I'll keep quiet while servicing your cock and you can keep swiping on Tinder."

You lean back in thought.

"You know I can be a good cock warmer for you. If that's all I'm good for… please?"

You examine her face—adorable and needy—her lips twitching as if she's about to burst into tears. She is right. Those very lips are heavenly wrapped around your shaft, sipping and slurping on your cockhead. "Fine," you say.

"Yay!" she celebrates. "Thank you, oh my god, thank you, Daddy." She gives you one last kiss on the lips before going to her place. On her knees, between your legs, in front of the couch. It'd only be more appropriate with your feet on her.

Your focus remains on your phone as you begin searching for a hot girl to hook up with.

"It's been so long since I tasted your—"

"I thought this was for my pleasure," you say. Hearing her speak instead of feeling her mouth on your cock annoys you.

"Sorry. You're right. This is for you. Doesn't matter what I want." She unbuckles your belt and pulls down your trousers.

You nod as you return your attention to the phone screen. You've been picky with the girls you swipe for, but this time, you're looking for anyone with a hot face and nice tits. While your girlfriend is certainly cute, she doesn't exactly fulfill those criteria, especially not now. Especially not tits.

Ningning presses her face against your underwear and takes a long whiff, a smile growing. She runs her tongue on your boxers, marking them with some saliva; its dampness seeps through the fabric.

Grabbing her hair, you say, "Dumb bitch, begging for scraps, did I ask you to do that?" You yank, causing her to wince in pain.

"Ow, n-no. I'm sorry, Daddy." After looking into her eyes for a few seconds, you let go of her hair, then Ningning immediately frees your cock. She's mesmerized as if she's never seen it before, and you find the target of her attention: the leaking pre-cum. She can't help herself from giving your tip a kiss. "Okay, you can keep swiping," she says. "I'll make you feel so good while you find a tight hole to use."

You don't respond, instead doing just as stated. Left, left, left, left, left. It's looking like one of those evenings. The only plus side is the simple sensation of pleasure as Ningning suckles slowly like a lollipop.

"Do my lips feel good? Is it nice having your pet warm your cock while you find prettier whores?" Truthfully, if there's one thing Ningning is expert at, it's sending shivers through your body with her mouth. She explores every inch of your cock with her tongue, skillfully tracing along the ridges and then sliding back down to your shaft.

Finally, you find a few pretty girls here and there. It's still many more left swipes than right, but most of the women you swipe match immediately. However, you lose interest in most quickly.

"Ah, I, I luhhv, this, cah…" In between Ningning talking with a mouthful, you relish in the sounds of quiet sucking. It distracts you from your ankle-shallow conversations, the dumb pickup lines, the straightforward advances.

You're tempted to grab her hair again and shove her lips down the base until she chokes and gags, but then Tinder would've been a waste of time anyway.

With her lips so diligently latched to your shaft, Ningning starts to drool. You give her one glance, and she immediately starts to lick your shaft clean. "I love cleaning your cock. That's all I'm good for, I know. I love being on my knees for you, having your perfect dick in my mouth, looking up at you and seeing your lust… e-even if it's for other girls." A hint of sadness in her voice. But even as she knows she will never be enough for you, she finds pleasure in submitting to your desires and being on her knees for you. And despite her words, her actions show that she loves it just as much as you do—if not more.

The lazy blowjob continues for some time, your erection carefully nurtured by Ningning's lips. You finally find the match you're looking for, the hottest girl you've ever seen in your life. Karina, 23. Every picture hardens your dick more than anything this cockwarmer toy of a woman can do. Whether it's a casual crop top or an elegant low-cut black dress, her ample cleavage leaves little to the imagination. Karina was the one for tonight. Your conversation with her quickly becomes sexual, which becomes an invite to your place.

Ningning notices your smile. "Did you get a match?" she asks gleefully. "Did you find a new pretty whore to break?" Her lips are more active on your shaft now, gliding up and down with renewed enthusiasm.

"Yep."

"Ahh." She releases your shaft, sticking out her tongue as saliva bridges from her bottom lip to your tip. With puppy dog eyes, she looks up at you and timidly asks, "I-is she prettier than me?"

"Duh." You show her Karina's pictures. "She has bigger tits too."

Ningning looks down. "That's great, Daddy," she says quietly. She perks herself up by kissing your dick. "I'm glad you found a better whore to fuck. When will she be here?"

"In a few hours."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll take care of this cock. I'll keep it nice and warm and wet. You can just relax until she arrives. " She returns to her duty, her lips a pillowy cushion, and she sucks with no complaint.

You idly browse your phone while Ningning keeps her lips sealed around your shaft like it's the most precious thing in the world. When you get up for snacks, she follows you around the house, never letting go of your cock for fear of losing it forever. Returning to the couch, you lie down and watch some shows while Ningning remains on her knees, expertly sucking away.

It's not until you receive the text that Karina is on her way that you finally pull a half-asleep Ningning off of your dick. You quickly gather yourself and prepare for Karina's arrival.

The doorbell rings. You answer the door. Your jaw practically drops to the floor when you open the door. Karina stands before you, clad in a tight pink tube top that shows off the toned shape of her midriff and accentuates the weightiness of her ample breasts. So much skin on display that you hardly know where to look first. A tantalizing hint of vanilla fills the air, adding to the already-charged atmosphere.

"Hello, handsome," she purrs, her voice naturally sultry. She leans in for a kiss before even stepping inside.

The kiss lingers longer than expected, your tongues dancing with a hint of alcohol, perhaps wine. Her hands find their way to your shoulders while yours rest on her waist, reveling in the softness of her smooth skin. Eventually, you release each other from the passionate embrace. "Wow. Hello, Karina. You look absolutely stunning."

"Aw, thank you."

You invite her inside. "Make yourself comfortable."

"I'm glad we matched so quick. Your pics were such a tease." Karina pokes you in the chest.

"And I'm glad you accepted my invite," you reply with a grin.

She giggles. "How could I say no? Straight to the point. And trust me, I could definitely blow off some steam today." Karina scans the living room, then freezes when she notices Ningning sitting there.

You bury your face in your hands; you completely forgot about her.

"Who's that?" Karina asks with an arched eyebrow. "You didn't mention anyone else joining us."

Ningning speaks up: "I'm Dad—"

"She's nobody," you say.

Karina laughs, her gaze lingering on Ningning's figure. "Nobody? Really?" She turns back to you with an impish grin. "Well, she's quite gorgeous. Maybe she could join us and make things even more fun?"

Ningning practically bounces in her seat. "That would be amazing! Can I please join, Daddy?"

Karina runs her hand down your chest, causing you to catch your breath. "So she calls you 'Daddy', huh? That's interesting." Her eyes flicker over Ningning before returning to you with an impish glint. "Well then… what do you say… 'Daddy'?"

Hearing the pet name spoken by Karina in such a seductive tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you release a quick exhale. "Just you and me. All night long."

"Ooh, when you put it like that…" Karina trails off with a smirk. "You better not disappoint." She wraps her arm around your neck and goes in for a deep kiss, your lips locked together as your tongues swirl in each other's mouths. At this moment, it's easy for you to forget about your own girlfriend waiting in the living room, stumbling inside while still entwined with Karina.

"Daddy, p-please, I'll behave," Ningning stutters out from behind you. "I can make you feel good too. I promise, I'll be a good girl."

Karina's lips part from yours with a soft moan, and the sound thrums through your body like a sweet melody. More than anything else, you want to hear the notes of those moans louder and harder and over and over again. Karina catches sight of Ningning watching them from the corner of her eye and chuckles playfully. "Oh, honey, look at that face. She looks like she's about to cry."

"Ignore her."

Karina smirks—a deadly thing. "Ignore her, huh? Sure." She gives you one last lingering kiss before breaking away with a satisfied sigh. "Now show me where your bathroom is so I can freshen up."

You lead the way, but before you can show Karina into the bathroom, you get distracted by the creamy skin of her neck and begin kissing it fervently. Your kisses trail back up to her lips, and once again your tongues dance together. You've kissed Karina more in the past few minutes than you have your girlfriend in a long time.

Karina shudders when you pull away. "Ffuck, this is gonna be an incredible night, huh?" She runs a hand through your hair before giving you a sly smile. "You're such a good kisser. No wonder you have her wrapped around your finger… say, what's her name?"

"Doesn't matter. Just think of her like my house pet."

Karina's teeth sink into her bottom lip. "Damn. Okay," she says, nodding, "get comfy in your bedroom, babe. I'll be ready in just a moment."

You nod and watch as Karina disappears into the bathroom. When you head back to the living room, you find Ningning quietly sobbing to herself.

Holding her chin with a firm and unyielding grip, you force Ningning to look at you, and her eyes widen in fear. "What the fuck?"

"Wh-what?" Ningning sniffles.

Giving her cheek a few light slaps, you scowl at her. "Don't 'what' me, or give me those puppy dog eyes. Why the fuck are you still here?"

"I-I, I'm sorry," Ningning stammers through her sobs. "I don't know... I thought maybe I could join in or take care of you afterwards or..."

Echoes of a crack, you land a harder slap on her cheek, leaving a red mark behind. "I am not fucking you!" you snap. "Do you really think I would waste my time with someone like you when I have a goddess like Karina in my home?" You let out a heavy sigh. "What am I going to do with you?"

Ningning avoids making eye contact as she apologizes once again.

"Fine," you say, standing up. "Follow me to my room."

"Really?"

"Just do as I say."

You sit down on the edge of your bed and point to the floor in front of you, a spot that is all too familiar for Ningning. She obeys without question, kneeling by your crotch as you tug down your pants and underwear to reveal your soft cock. You then yank Ningning's head down towards your lap.

"What do I—" she starts but is cut off by your hiss.

"Are you stupid? What have you been doing for the past few hours?"

Ningning whimpers quietly. "Yes, Daddy." She begins stroking you with her small hand.

"Use your mouth," you command.

"Right, right." She quickly swallows your member, her lips dragging along its flaccid length. As you harden in her mouth, she gags when it hits the back of her throat, but diligently she cleans up all the saliva.

You close your eyes, picturing Karina instead, and after a few minutes, pictures in your mind materialize as the door opens.

"Hey, what do you think—" Karina's voice trails off as she sees Ningning between your legs, servicing your now fully erect cock. "I thought you said she wasn't joining us," she says with a giggle.

"Well, I'm just using her to get you ready for me," you reply. Despite the ministrations of Ningning's lips and tongue, your attention is solely focused on the woman standing in front of you.

Karina steps closer, her eyes fixated on Ningning. "That's such a turn on, seeing her between your legs like that," Karina says, smirking.

Ningning moans happily as she continues to orally service your dick.

"Look at her," Karina says, "such a cute thing."

"No, look at you," you reply. "That top looks perfect on you. Your body's perfect."

"Thank you, babe. I wore this just for tonight." Karina brings her hands to her chest, and you must be drooling when she squeezes. "You like?"

You nod. "You're the hottest girl I've ever seen, Karina."

Ningning lets out a sad whimper around your cock.

Karina sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, watching intently as Ningning works to get your cock even harder with her mouth. "Wow, your cock is perfect. She's almost got you ready for me." She grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss.

You're in a new endless world of bliss, Karina's lips on yours, Ningning's lips on your cock. The sound of her blowjob is noisy, wet, sloppy, but you notice only the moans coming out of Karina's mouth into yours. And even better than that is when Karina presses her full breasts against your arm, giving you visions of what's to come—hours of playing with those breasts greedily between your fingers.

Again, when Karina releases the kiss, she lets out a light moan, and it's the prettiest thing you've heard. "I can't wait to ride that big fucking cock."

"You don't have to wait." With a firm grip on Ningning's hair, you pull her off your cock and toss her onto the floor with a gentle thud. "Get a condom for me," you command.

Ningning lays on the ground, spit-covered lips quivering. She can't make eye contact with you or Karina. "Yes, Daddy."

Karina's legs rub together. "She's such an obedient girl." She brings her legs over and straddles you before she starts making out with you once again.

Though your hands are all over her body, they naturally find their way toward her breasts.

"Yeah, fuck, touch me," Karina says breathily, "feel me up."

"Your tits are incredible, holy shit."

"Just having your pet isn't enough for you?" Karina asks playfully.

You shake your head. "But you're more than enough."

Karina's lips press firmly against yours, her teeth grazing your lower lip in excitement. As you deepen the kiss, you can taste the faint hint of her lip gloss mingled with the subtle tang of your own blood. Her hands begin to explore, trailing down your body until they reach your shaft. Like Ningning before her, she struggles to fully wrap her fingers around your girth. "Fuck, you're so thick," she whispers in awe.

You let out a deep groan as Karina starts to twist and slide her hand up and down your wettened cock. Just then, Ningning's soft voice interrupts your passion-filled moment. "Here's the condom, Daddy," she says softly.

"Put it on with that dirty little mouth of yours."

Karina giggles then brings her lips back on yours, brings her tongue back into your mouth.

"You, you really want me to…"

You give her a stern look.

"Of, of course, Daddy. Whatever you want," she nervously replies before awkwardly scooting towards where you're sitting. You can see that she's struggling to find the space between you and Karina straddling your lap. Eventually, you hear the sound of the condom packet opening and feel Ningning putting it on with her mouth.

Karina's moans get louder, and she runs her hands through your hair.

"It's on, Daddy," Ningning announces timidly as she sits next to you, her hands resting meekly on her thighs.

You and Karina seem to want to kiss forever, Karina especially reveling in the spectator; however, she breaks it first. "Get on your back," she says, her eyes piercing into yours. "I'm riding you and this fucking beautiful dick into the bed."

As you both shuffle around and get comfortable, you push Ningning aside to the corner of the bed. You sink into the pillows while Karina kneels above you, gazing at you with hungry desire.

Ningning's tiny voice is barely audible as she begs, "Can I watch? Please, Daddy?" Her eyes gleam with admiration and delight at the sight of you and Karina together. "I love seeing you feel good. I promise I'll be quiet, I won't interrupt."

There might have been words in your right ear.

Karina laughs as she positions her slender figure over your cock. She takes hold of it and guides it towards her entrance with expert precision. "Are you just ignoring her? That's pretty fucking…" She sinks down into your length and moans loudly, musically. "Hot, oh, fuck, you feel so good." Her pussy clings closely, warm and snug around you.

Feeling dizzy with pleasure, you grab onto her shapely hips as she moves on top of you. She moans in response and adjusts to fit your entire length inside of her, her hand feeling your hardness through her slim waist.

"Wait, fuck, please. Don't move yet." Karina gasps. She begins to gyrate her hips back and forth, causing your head to spin even more. With that body and those tits and that tight hole and that impossibly perfect face contorting with bliss, any man could cum before the first thrust. But somehow, you manage to resist as she begins lifting herself, then fucking into you slowly. "That's, that's it. Nngh."

All the while, your eyes are dead set on her tits, waiting to watch them in action.

As Karina drops herself down onto you again, coating your dick with her juices, she starts to bounce at a steady rhythm. Even though they are confined by fabric, her ample breasts jiggle enticingly with each motion. "Fuck, that's too good," Karina says, moaning, closing her eyes. Then, she opens them as she looks over to where Ningning is squirming. "Aww, look how she's eyeing your cock. When was the last time you fucked her?"

"Hm. Maybe a month ago."

"God, you're so mean to her. I can't imagine depriving someone of this amazing dick." She moans as your length hits a particularly sensitive spot inside her, and then she leans down to grab your face. "I love it." There, she kisses you while her ride starts to intensify. You love the weight of her tits, and the loud slapping sound of her ass bearing down over and over.

"I'll come back later, Daddy." Ningning's voice is filled with dejection before fading away.

As Karina rides you cowgirl style, she sits up straight once again, her toes curling, her breasts bouncing, and her hair flying around her. You reach for her tube top, and she helps pull it up. You didn't think this ride could get better—then, the drop, as her boobs are set free. There's a magical ripple, so plenty for your eyes to feast on. And while the way her tits drop is hypnotizing, the way they bounce without the restraint of fabric is even more so. Karina brings her arms up and you assist her in removing the top completely before flinging it aside, leaving both of you bare and vulnerable to each other's touch.

In this new position, sitting up against the headboard, you lean in to kiss Karina deeply before trailing down to explore every inch of her body. Your lips linger at her long neck, her defined collarbone, and her lithe arms, but always find their way back to her luscious breasts where you suck on each pink nipple with fervor.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck, just like that, I'm so, so sensitive there." Karina moans breathlessly as she grinds against your cock. Her body vibrates with pleasure, and you can feel the clench of her cunt around your cock, tightening and relaxing with every deep thrust.

As you notice her soft mewling turn into breathy gasps, you intensify your actions: while your lips are latched to one of her firm nipples, and one hand is massaging her other breast thoroughly, your free hand goes down to her clit, rubbing in neat circles, causing her to arch her back and cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck, yes! Gonna, gonna cum!" Her words are punctuated by deep groans of pleasure, and you revel in her vocal responses, the sound of her deeper voice more harmonious to your ears than your girlfriend's high-pitched cries.

Her legs tremble as she slows down, giving you the opportunity to take control. You thrust upwards with determination, while simultaneously stimulating every sensitive spot on her body. Karina throws her head back, and she cums on your cock gracefully; you give her no quarter, pounding her through every pulse of her orgasm. Her cunt's tight grip makes you lightheaded, but you continue as a machine, worshipping her tits with your mouth and fingers, playing with her clit, until she's driven to new heights of pleasure.

After many long and languid inhales and exhales, Karina sighs contentedly, her body sated from the intense lovemaking. "I haven't cum that good in so long. Fuck." She pulls you close and kisses you deeply like the gratitude spoken didn't just escape her tongue. "So you haven't fucked her like this in a month? I almost feel bad for her."

"Don't."

"Sure." Karina playfully taps your shoulders, her fingers dancing over your skin. "Well then, I think it's only fair that I reward you for that."

With a soft wet pop, she lifts herself off of your slick member, the condom shining in the dim light of the room. She kneels before you, hunger in her eyes as she looks at your throbbing cock. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips in anticipation.

"Do you have another condom?" she asks.

"Yeah, it's over by the drawer," you reply, still trying to catch your breath from the intense ride.

She scoffs. "Yet you made her… whatever." Karina's fingers graze your skin as she peels off the condom, the cool sensation a stark contrast to the heat emanating from her body. "Trust me, this much feels better. Plus I want to taste your precum."

She aligns your shaft between her perfect breasts, the soft sensation of them cushioning your cock. "Fuck, Karina. I've never done this before," you say with a gasp.

"Figured as much. Your other plaything's tiny tits could never compare to this, right?" Karina smirks before letting a glob of spit drip from her lips. Your dominant tendencies seem to have rubbed off on her and it turns you on even more.

But what really turns you on is the warmth and plushness of her breasts against your sensitive skin. She takes charge, using her skilled hands to stroke your cock as she holds her breasts together, creating a delicious pressure. Her movements are both gentle and firm as she guides you between her cleavage with precision. Each time your tip pokes out from between her breasts, she gives it a lick or a kiss that sends shivers through your body and elicits groans from deep within your lungs. And every time she does so, she manages to get just enough of the taste that she craves, as she keeps you on a plateau of pleasure and causes you to leak beads of semen.

You can't help but move your hips in rhythm with her while she continues to stroke you with her breasts. She notices and soon lets you take control, allowing you to thrust at your own pace. When you feel yourself getting closer to climax, you slow down and start kneading her breasts—first softly, then harder as your desire and arousal build. You treat her absurd body with the roughness it deserves, pulling her up from her knees by her malleable tits. "Oh, shit," Karina says as you throw her onto the bed, "I love how rough you are."

Eventually, the two of you end up fucking in every corner of the bedroom, finding places where you haven't fucked Ningning or even any other woman. You have Karina arched over the dresser as you enter her from behind, her moans mingling with the sound of rattling wood. You carry Karina, both hands sinking into the flesh of her buttcheeks, giving you both a workout. You two move to the floor, where a torrid round of reverse cowgirl shows off how her ass was as perfect an asset as her tits.

But the most intense and primal position is when you have her pinned against the door, her breasts and face pressed against it, her arm pulled back as you fuck her standing—well, she's only standing because your cock is propping her up, her legs jelly. In this frenzy, Karina is both a willing participant and a willing object, surrendering herself to the pleasure that awaits in each new position and location.

"Yes, yes! Just like that!" Karina cries out as sweat drips down her back; you lean over to taste the saltiness as you nibble on her neck.

And right there, in that position against the door, you make Karina cum again. This time, she squirts violently and her release sprays onto your legs, onto the floor, clear liquid making a mess between her thighs. You hear a whine from the other side of the door. You can't ever be accused of neglecting your girlfriend of her needs.

As if drawn by an uncontrollable magnetism, the two of you find your way back to where you started: you lying on the bed, and Karina riding the life out of you. Her breasts bounce with each thrust and your hands can't resist kneading them roughly. Red marks appear on her otherwise flawless skin, adding to the passionate chaos of the room. This roughness only intensifies Karina's tightness around your cock as she begs for more.

"You love it when I'm rough?" You growl into her ear. "Love feeling this big dick pounding into you?"

"God, yes! Fuck me back!" Karina exclaims.

Suddenly, Ningning opens the door. "Daddy, I just—"

But she's interrupted as Karina shouts and another wave of orgasm wracks through her body, causing her to pull away from you, too sensitive to continue. "Oh... my god," she says, out of breath. "I can't believe you made me cum again." Karina's lips dive into your neck, her wetness dripping down your thighs onto the sheets that you and Ningning share.

"Ningning's whisper breaks through the heavy atmosphere, her voice tinged with concern. "I just wanted to check up on you," she says softly. "You've been at it for a while. It's almost midnight."

Karina disentangles herself from the crook of your neck and moves to lay her head on your chest. Looking at Ningning with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she lets out a playful laugh. "Yeah, he's been fucking me senseless for a while now. Damn, he's good."

A smirk spreads across your face.

"I...uh..." Ningning struggles to find the right words, unsure whether to express pride or sadness.

"You just wanted to watch, didn't you?" Karina says, running her hand down your bare chest. "You naughty little thing."

You chime in, "Oh, I know her well. She was listening the whole time, pressed against the door with her ear. I could hear her." You'd ask if she made herself cum. You don't care.

A blush creeps onto Ningning's cheeks as she nods shyly.

"Wow, she is soo needy." Karina looks down and notices that your erection is still going strong. "Fuckin' hell, you stud. Haven't cum yet?"

"Nope."

Karina peels herself off of you and lies down next to you on the bed. "Here, I'll lay down so you can pound my pussy until you cum. Does that sound good to you?"

You waste no time positioning your cock between her legs, then you grab her ankles and place them over your shoulders.

"Oh shit, yes..." She draws in a sharp breath as you thrust into her all at once, causing her eyes to roll back in ecstasy. "God, fuck, I'm still so turned on..." Her words become moans as you piston into her, your primal instincts taking over.

You watch as Karina's irresistible breasts jiggle with each and every thrust, her soaked pussy gripping onto you tightly.

"You don't care if she watches do you?" Karina giggles like she's drunk off your cock. "Looks like, ngh, you don't care what she does at all. Hnn…" She looks at Ningning, who is standing by the door, unable to look away. Karina pats the bed to her. "Come here, join us on the bed. You can get a closer look at Daddy's cock going in and out of me. Don't you want to see how I please your Daddy? Watch him fuck my brains out. Watch why he's choosing me over you."

"Daddy, wait—"

Karina moans. "Hurry up or get out, I don't think your Daddy gives a fuck."

Ningning only hesitates one more second before dragging her feet over to the bed.

"Good girl," Karina praises as Ningning lies down next to her obediently.

"Can you touch me, Daddy? Please? Or will you just hold my hand while you—"

You swat her hand away when she reaches out towards you, causing Karina to erupt in laughter. "Looks like she'll just have to watch."

You kiss Karina like you love her, like she's your girlfriend, or your wife, or your long-lost love you haven't seen in years. It must be breaking Ningning's heart, but you can't see or care, with Karina's face the only face in your mind. The only reminders of Ningning's presence are the occasional whimpers and moans that escape from her lips.

"Come on, babe," Karina urges with a fierce kiss, "don't hold back. I want to make you cum in front of her." She places her hand on your chest, slowing your movements. "Flip me over and rail me, babe. Give me everything she wants."

You swiftly pull out and bring Karina to her hands and knees.

"Ooh, that's it." She moans loudly as you push her head down and thrust into her from behind. Her back arches, showcasing the perfect curve of her ass.

As your movements become more forceful, Karina's moans echo through the room and she clings to the sheets with desperation. You finally make eye contact with Ningning, her hands buried in her shorts and her breath ragged as she watches you and Karina together.

"God, you're so rough. Yes!" Karina shouts.

Meanwhile, Ningning's gasps and moans grow louder as she tries to pleasure herself. Despite her best efforts, it seems that nothing can satisfy her.

"Do it," Karina says, looking back, "cum for me!"

All of the sensations come crashing together—the movement of Karina's body, the tightness of her pussy around you, and the sight of your girlfriend watching as you fuck another woman. With one final rough slam, you burst inside Karina, gripping her ass cheeks and calling out her name. Every last drop is drained from your balls as you fill the condom to the seams.

After the intense pulsations subside, you loosen your grip on Karina's ass and she collapses onto the bed, breathing heavily and moaning in satisfaction. "Holy fuck. That was amazing," she says between giggles. She notices that Ningning has not stopped pleasuring herself this entire time, her fingers slick with wetness as they slide in and out of her swollen folds. "Looks like I'm not the only one who thought so. You enjoy seeing your man blow his load in another woman so much, don't you? Are you pretending to be me right now?"

You are surprised by Karina's bold words, but not surprised at Ningning's increased moans and trembling body as she reaches her desperate climax because of those words, likely making a mess of her underwear.

"That's so hot," Karina purrs with a wiggle of her hips. Your half-hard cock remains inside of her as she speaks. "Give me a few more thrusts before you pull out."

You oblige, gazing up at the ceiling while Karina wrings every last bit of pleasure from you into the condom. She disentangles herself from you and leans in for a kiss.

"Mmh, that was fun. We should do that again sometime. Oh, and can I use your shower?" Karina asks.

"Of course," you reply. "Actually, do you mind if I join you in a sec?"

She nods, smiling. "Sure, babe. That sounds nice." Karina heads to the shower with a flick of her hair over her shoulder, drawing the attention of both you and Ningning to her toned buttocks.

Ningning lies on the bed, spent on her own self-pleasure. "Did, mmnh, did you have fun, Daddy? Was she good for you?"

Stretching, you remove the condom from your now-flaccid member. "The best."

"Nnh." Her breathing quickens. "That looks good."

You offer her the condom, almost filled to the brim with your load.

"F-for me? Really, Daddy? I can have your yummy cum?"

"Sure."

She's excited for the first time in a while. "Yes! Thank you! Oh, thank you, thank you, Daddy!" Ningning takes the cum-filled condom and brings it to her lips, drinking the cum out like a woman parched in the desert. Her lips make wet, sucking noises as she swallows up the thick, sticky globs of semen. "Oh god, Daddy, you taste so good."

Each gulp of cum elicits a moan from Ningning as she savors it. You can tell that she's still sore from her last orgasm, and despite that, her hand snakes its way back down to fingerfuck herself again. She keeps the condom in her mouth for a while, making sure she doesn't miss out on a drop, turning it inside out to be sure—even when it's empty, she gets herself off again with her lips wrapped around the used protection.

As Ningning prepares to bring herself to another climax using the condom around her fingers as a substitute for your cock, you excuse yourself and head to the shower. What a doormat does with her time does not concern you. You have a shower to hop into and an actual woman to enjoy it with.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert

1K notes · View notes

hp-hcs · 6 months

Note

yanxidarlings here~ literally screamed when i saw you followed me because your writings were the direct inspiration for my latest post 💖 but im curious to see your take on yandere! poly! mattheo and theodore with m! reader or just more poly headcanons because i am never. going. to. get. enough. of. them

OH MY FUCKING GOD UR KIDDING I WAS THE ANON WHO REQUESTED UR LATEST POST

IM FEELING STARSTRUCK RN 🙇‍♂️👑

requests open, please dear god

Yk, reader is (lovingly) so fucking oblivious

Like, his friends will be like “hey you’re getting pretty close with like, the two most obsessive and violent guys at this school aha”

And reader will be like “lol they’re so silly goofy aren’t they 😌”

Inspired purely by your “you know people think we're gay and dating, right?” “aren't we?” I present:

“you know people think we’re gay and dating, right?” “aren’t we?�� — yandere! mattheo riddle x oblivious! male! reader x yandere! theodore nott

completely unedited cause i gotta sprint to my lecture broski

TWs: possessive/obsessive behavior, brief mentions of violence, one instance of slut-shaming (?)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Honestly, you thought nothing of it when you were informed that due to “space issues” you were being moved to room with The Theos™. You just shrugged and followed the very anxious house-elf who had informed you of the switch to your new room.

Your trunk and belongings were there already, waiting to be set up and organized. Mattheo and Theo were hovering in the doorway looking a bit too pleased with the situation for comfort.

You just quietly said “hi” and moved past them, dumping your school bag on your new bed and flopping down next to it.

Theo and Mattheo practically trip over themselves rushing to “befriend” you. (Their words, not mine)

You all share a dorm, so it wasn’t long before they realized the other was obsessed with you.

Then, it’s all out war.

I’m talking mysterious falls down the moving stairs, getting locked out of the dorm all night, randomly being chased by bludgers—even when they aren’t playing.

Random fistfights between them whenever they see each other in the halls.

That all goes out the window, though, when reader is asked out.

Reader comes back to his dorm after a long day and finds The Theos sitting side-by-side on the edge of the his bed.

“When were you going to tell us that you became the class whore?” Mattheo drawled, his lips thinning in disapproval and disgust.

“W-what?” You ask, completely taken aback.

“We heard that little Y/N L/N’s got himself a date to the Yule Ball,” Theodore adds. “Who is it? That Parkinson girl? The Diggory boy?”

“Wh- no. I said no anyways.”

The boys scrutinize you, exuding an air of judgement.

Finally, Theodore pipes up. “Good boy.”

😳

“Aww, what’s this? Look, Riddle. Y/N’s blushing,” Theodore teases.

They make a quick mental note of that 📝

Anyways, they eventually find out who asked you out. They call a ceasefire on their own personal war, and team up to beat the shit out of the poor guy/girl.

After that, babycakes, if they didn’t already know before, everyone at Hogwarts now knows that you are TAKEN. (Even though you don’t.)

They tolerate each other, but just barely. They can really only stand each other when you three all curl up in one of your beds or on the common room couch.

Then, they’re the clingiest mfs you’ve ever met.

They have absolutely no sense of a personal space bubble. One of them is always touching you in some way, whether it be holding your hand, resting a hand on your hip or shoulder, putting their hand on your lower back…

Theodore charmed your chair in History of Magic to be impossible to move, so you can’t scoot away from him.

If you’re relaxing on the couch in the common room, Mattheo will move to sit right next to you (like r i g h t next to you) and put your legs in his lap. He tried once before to get you to just sit in his lap, but you told him no (like an idiot) and avoided him for the rest of the day. That is, until you woke up to him in your bed next to you.

Homeboy was not happy about that.

He is manipulative as fuck and will gaslight you to no end. He uses his shitty childhood and bad father to get you to pity him.

(It works.)

It’s obviously disconcerting for you when your boyos go from ‘actively out for each other’s blood’ to ‘eh, you’re fine, i guess’

You guys were watching a movie in your dorm one night, all piled onto your bed, and they accidentally fell asleep there. They woke to you already gone for breakfast and them with their arms around each other.

“If you ever bring this up again, I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, believe me, they’d never find your body.”

They become way more open about their attraction to you, everything from kissing your cheek, to making you wear their clothes (esp their jerseys with their last name on them), to asking you your ring size.

I completely agree with your headcanon of Mattheo neck kisses 😩🤌

Eventually though, because you are an oblivious gay disaster, you’re just chilling on the couch and you’re like “Hey guys, you know everyone thinks we’re gay right? And like, all dating each other?”

“What, like we aren’t?”

y/n: 😳🤨☺️🏳️‍🌈👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #gay #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #yandere theodore nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheo riddle

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drizztdohurtin · 23 days

Text

Gale Headcanons: Pregnancy and Fatherhood

pairing: Gale x afab!reader (use of she/her, "wife", "mother")

〚 Masterlist | WIP List 〛

-MDNI-

i've brought to you....... yet another doozy

What to expect: section 01 - pregnancy: fluff & domesticity, slight NSFW under the cut section 01.5 - labor and birth: fluff section 02 - fatherhood: fluff & domesticity, slight angst

suggested pre-reads: pining, dating, domesticity, and marriage | deciding to start a family and conceiving

01. Pregnancy

Your pregnancy is revealed either from your period not coming, a trip to the cleric, or from Tara being able to sense something new in your womb - choose your favorite!

With a big smile, Gale would let out a very relieved sigh and pull you in a close embrace - "My love, I can't believe we finally did it"

He'd hold you for a while, nuzzling his face in your neck or your hair, pressing his forehead against yours, dipping down for relieved kisses and brushing his nose against yours

He'd be more excited than words could explain, but he'd want to wait a little while before you two get too hype about it because anything could happen when you're that early on in a pregnancy

He'd continue cooking proper meals for you every day, especially anything he learned is good for your first trimester (like anything rich in iron and protein)

But as the weeks go by with no issues, and once a cleric signs off on the health and viability of your pregnancy, the man jumps into gear

He would love to have an active part in designing and setting up the nursery, and would absolutely take care of it by himself if you didn't have much of an interest or preference in it

He talks to your belly SO often

will say random things to your bump throughout the day; and the info dumps he used to subject you to are now also for the baby, and he speaks as if there are multiple people in the room rather than just you

imagine him scolding the growing baby about how he told them to "stop kicking mummy all night because she needs to sleep"

I also love the thought of him greeting you and the baby whenever he sees you - "Hello, my love," he'd say to you, then look at your bump, maybe bending down a little bit, saying, "and hello my baby :)))", often giving your stomach a small rub

100% talks to the bump at night, with his head resting on it (or your chest), his hand rubbing comforting circles on your belly, sometimes following the movements his baby is making from the inside

As prepared as he was for your pregnancy from reading all of those books, I doubt he'd ever closely been around a pregnant person like this before

so he'd be really shocked seeing how much your belly stretches when the baby is big and really starts moving around

nothing could've prepared him for that - it's fascinating to him but he also doesn't try to egg it on if it's uncomfortable for you (which it very likely is, especially as your baby gets bigger and bigger)

he'd feel so lucky if he was there to witness the first time your baby kicks

You'd perk up like "gale!! baby's kicking!!" as you rush to put one of his hands on your belly - shock and excited anticipation in his eyes as he waits to feel it

and he'd be whispering as if talking too loud would scare off the baby from moving - "Do it again, little one, come on!"

He'd be so quiet, even once he felt the kicks; there'd be a quiet gasp as he looked back at you, his jaw dropped in a big smile, basically astonished

after that moment, he'd always have his hands on your bump, hoping to feel some movement

If you get food aversions or are easily nauseous... oh my GOD he's so perfect and patient and understanding and helpful about it

Wizards aren't versed in healing magic, so he wouldn't be able to help you out too much on that front but he would be there for you for every second of it

He is still a very knowledgeable and powerful wizard, so he could try other forms of magic that could help reduce discomfort

he would be able to evoke different scents into the air; for example, citrusy and peppermint/eucalyptus smells can help with things like nausea (the latter can also be for headaches)

or lavender and chamomile can help you get to sleep if you're feeling restless

I've mentioned it in other headcanon posts, but he'd also be able to change the temperature of his hands, to some effect, using the cold/heat to relieve certain types of pain on your body

He'd adapt to food aversions, or even food obsessions, that you get; implementing changes in the meals he makes for you with ease

Gale would NEVER leave you alone to deal with something uncomfortable or painful

the only reason he might not be there to help is if he's at work

and he'd feel so terrible when he gets home and sees the state of you, or asks how your day went only for you to find out about your newest aches and pains

He'd definitely coax you into a bath often if it was something that made you more comfortable - offering to join you and massage any areas of your body that hurt

Your pregnant body would do things to him, btw

Even from the beginning, despite how it would take months for you to even start showing

Just the fact that you were pregnant with his baby would do things to him

His mindset about this would be similar to how it was during your time conceiving - he wasn't turned on by the idea of "breeding you" but instead by the level of intimacy that creating life with you is

So he wouldn't look at you with lust because your rounding belly, your growing breasts, and your widening hips were evidence of him "breeding you"

he'd be turned on by all those things because of the intimacy it implied - it was evidence of your love for him, and his love for you, and it would always be perfect to him, more than words would describe

the first time he realized your bump was noticeable was after he came home from having to be away for a few days - and you were changing for bed

You'd heard a quiet, but audible, "Oh wow," when he noticed you and the way your stomach and breasts were larger and rounder than he remembered

visibly in awe, he made his way over to you, hovering his hands over your stomach with a soft, "May I?" - his hands finding a place at your belly only once you nodded

He'd get down on his knees and kiss your bump, telling you how much he loved you and how stunning you were before making his way up to your lips - his warm, gentle hands grazing up your sides and around your lower back

If you were feeling well that night, he would absolutely want to show you how much he loved you, and how gorgeous you are

Gale would 100% want to make love to you anytime he could - there was just something about your pregnancy that could get him worked up at the snap of a finger

He wouldn't initiate it a lot, especially if you weren't feeling well - he much preferred to care for you in the other, more innocent ways

But he'd absolutely have you any time you wanted him, whether it was because you were feeling at the top of your game or because you were feeling horrible - his goal is always to love and worship you

So much of your time over the past year or two would've revolved around trying to start a family and going through pregnancy

so he'd completely understand if you ever felt overlooked as an individual, or as who you were besides your pregnancy - though he tried his hardest to make sure you were never overlooked

compared to the amount of effort and time he'd spend on things that did revolve around your pregnancy, he'd spend the same amount (and maybe more) on taking time to love you and spend time with you in ways that didn't revolve around your pregnancy

he wanted to ensure you never forgot that his love and care for you extended far beyond the fact that you were carrying his child

01.5 Labor and Birth

Gale would be a literal dream when you go into labor

Despite the common fears and nerves people get when their partners go into labor, he remains very calm and collected on the outside

He'd made sure nothing got in the way of him being there for you in every way you can imagine

And you guys would've made a very thorough birth plan, whether it was his idea or yours, and he would stick to it

your birth plan would be incredibly important to him and he'd 100% have it memorized in case he needs to speak or advocate for you

Just from all of the books he's read, he's almost exceedingly prepared

He's so wonderful during the actual birth, doing everything you need him to without even asking

because by this point in your relationship, he knows exactly what you need just from glancing at you

I couldn't decide if he would be more of a "stick to the books we read" type of partner during labor or a "you can scream and cry and punch me and, you're the only one that can do it, so do whatever you need to do to get yourself through this" type

He's very much a combination of the two, but I ultimately decided that he's closer to the first type for the birth of your first child, and if you have more after that then he's more like the second type

So for the first birth, he lowkey wants to stick to the birthing books he read - like he'd insist on you doing the breathing techniques he learned about, or trying different positions to allow gravity to do its job, etc.

and whether or not you listen to him is up to you HAHDSA

He'd just be so fucking in awe of you - even if you refused to follow the dumb breathing exercises he kept mimicking 2 feet from your face

If you happen to yell at him because he's talking too much or that's just how you deal with that kind of pain, he literally wouldn't even be upset in any regard

If you gotta break his hand by squeezing it too hard, go ahead

You could literally kill him in that moment and he'd understand

He'd be full of praise and loving words, too

There would be a lot of "you're doing incredible, my love, keep going," as he rubs some part of your body soothingly

and once baby is born, oh boy

His face would almost scrunch up; his lips pressed firmly together in a soft smile, trying to hold back his tears as he watched your baby be handed over to you

If you looked over at him, you'd just see him with the most soul-crushingly sweet smile, and glassy eyes looking back into yours with the purest love

And he'd be pretty damn quiet, basically at a loss for words as he takes in the whole scene before him

A few tears would finally fall the longer he looked at the two of you, along with a quiet sob of happiness when you eventually ushered him closer

and that's when he finally gets to touch his baby for the first time, rubbing the pad of his thumb as gently as possible over their warm, tear-stained cheek

He'd just lay his head on your shoulder, his face less than a foot from that of his newborn who was laid on your chest - relishing in the first moments of fatherhood that he'll never get to experience again

02. Fatherhood

OKAY let's talk about if he has sons and/or daughters and how many

I'm a Gale-firstborn-is-a-boy truther

and I honestly can't explain it but I can't see him having more than one, which is probably unpopular and I can't even explain myself !!

if baby #2 comes along, I tend to lean more toward him having a daughter, 3-5 years after his son

those are the specifics of my thoughts, but the rest of the headcanons will be gender-neutral in case you feel differently!

Gale is obsessed with his baby - by the Gods, they are the most perfect thing in existence

He would thank you every day (literally, every day) for bringing such a gift into the world

He's not a super "touchy" father - meaning he's not constantly kissing or nuzzling his baby (unlike someone else I've written about, not to name any names), but he's still of course an affectionate dad

He'd more often prop his baby up in their seat so they could watch him do things (like while he cooks or cleans or works in his study) rather than hold them the whole time

entertaining them the whole time by explaining what he was doing (explaining it to them as if they had the language comprehension of an adolescent)

You'd walk in on him explaining to your 3-month-old how to properly zest a lemon and how he even learned how to do it in the first place

and to his credit, your child looked very interested

It's not like he doesn't know how to talk to babies or something, he just isn't big on baby talk

and he always read about how stimulating it was for babies to hear and watch people talk to them - so really, he was doing a great job

If he's relaxing on the couch reading a book or resting his eyes, however, he'd love to have his baby cuddle into his chest while he does so

He'd read out loud to them sometimes, too, of course!

Gale's the "on it!" type of dad

Literally anything you or the baby need, he's on it before you even ask - and, yes, he absolutely goes "☝ On it, my love!"

he's literally so patient, too

He'd be able to say quite calm and collected even when his child is freaking out and crying and throwing tantrums - or if they're just a really colicky baby - he handles it very well and never ever gets upset with them

The driving force behind his patience is how empathetic he is as a person - it would only go above and beyond for you and your guys' children

Even if he had to go to work all sleepy and fatigued, he wouldn't be upset - and he'd wear the bags under his eyes like a badge of honor

if it means allowing you to get your proper rest, he'll stay up comforting your crying baby all night if he has to

This might be an unpopular opinion but he's not a very panicky dad - like if his kid gets hurt, he's quite level-headed about it, he's not freaking out

he'd do a really wonderful job of comforting his child and keeping them calm while he helps heal them - and he's definitely the type to tell them stories to distract them while he fixes them up

I'm subscribed to the idea that Gale did not grow up with a dad and didn't have much of a childhood due to M*stra and how consumed by his magical craft he had been (I don't even remember if these are canon or headcanon at this point)

so he'd desperately want to give his child what he never had - a loving father and a real childhood

I do love the community HC of them being very gifted in magic, so before you and Gale find out about it I think he'd secretly hope that his child doesn't inherit his abilities - mainly for the reason of him wanting them to enjoy their childhood instead of being consumed by their gifts like he was

(plus there's always the looming threat of fckin M*stra 🖕🖕🖕🖕)

But when his child's gifts are revealed and they start summoning things at a young age, he would take every precaution possible to keep them safe and also allow them to still be a kid while they navigate their talents

He'd teach them everything they wanted to know, but only when they asked him to, and he would try to make it as fun as possible

and he'd worry less knowing that he was in charge of their studies - he knew best how to keep them safe and happy, and that's what matters most to him

but he would not shelter your child - he'd be a pretty lenient dad

He'd let them do things other parents might not let their kids do, as long as it was safe and with both your and his permission

he's also just a fuckin goofball of a dad and loves making his kid laugh - and YES he is stocked full of dad jokes

(all of his kid's friends would love both of you)

He wouldn't shy away from teaching them about or letting them learn about more mature topics as long as it was in a way that was appropriate for their age

and as they grew, they'd be allowed to know more and more about such topics

for example, his very young child might ask "How did mummy and daddy meet?"

he wouldn't just tell his three-year-old that mummy and daddy were abducted from their homes and violated by mind flayers and met after crashing onto land and having to survive on the road to Baldur's Gate for several months with a constant threat of death or ceremorphosis looming over them

He'd say something closer to 'mummy and daddy met one day near a beautiful druids grove in Elturgard, and we fell in love as we adventured our way to the city of Baldur's Gate!' - and reveal more of the details as they grew

If your kid ever pushed too much on the details of a topic that was too much for them, he'd be really good about teaching them about how some topics they may not be able to understand until they're older - and that he'd share more of those details with them when they were able to comprehend better what certain things mean

As much as he loves all of his child's life stages for unique reasons, he'd particularly love the 4-6-year-old range

It's when they start to blossom into a person and he gets to see all of the specific opinions and interests form, but they're also still little enough to hold and cuddle

and it's right before the age that they start to become more independent; therefore not wanting/needing him as much as they used to

Once they're a little older, he would really miss the days when his child clung to him or always wanted him to pick them up or play with them - though he'd still find ways to embrace each new stage of their life

There would've been many moments - when his child was around 6 - where he'd hold their sleeping form in his arms and think about how one day they wouldn't need him like that anymore - and it would bring him to tears almost every time

moments like that are what would make him seriously consider having another child

he'd always come to you afterward for comfort, sinking his tear-stained face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you without a word

and when you ask him what's wrong, all he says is, "Our baby's getting big."

(whether he brings up having another baby is up to you)

and Gale would raise your child to have great respect for you

Really the only time you'd see him get stern or even yell at them is if they did something really fucking stupid and dangerous, or if they said/did something to disrespect you

He knows damn well you can handle yourself with your kid, but he doesn't want you to have to

and if they said something that actually hurt your feelings, oh boy

This is where his remarkable patience would be tested - as he would be incredibly disappointed with them

says something like, "I can see that you're having very big feelings right now, and you don't know how to handle them, but you will not talk to your mother like that."

If your child kept mouthing off (as kids tend to do), his voice would lower in volume as his stare practically pierced through them in disbelief, "Go to your room. We'll talk about this later."

oh, and talk to them he will - after several deep breaths and a slight prayer to the gods to give him strength

Expect an apology from your kid a few hours later after watching them shuffle into your room with their head hung and their father watching from the hallway with his arms crossed

I think something like that would honestly be embarrassing for him, and you'd even get several apologies from him about it despite how well he handled it and how it wasn't even his fault

Overall, Gale would be such a lovely father

His child would never feel unloved or uncared for, and he'd never disrespect them or talk down to them - he'd do anything to keep them happy and safe

I really hope y'all loved these! As always, comments are GREATLY appreciated and I love to hear people's thoughts on my headcanons!! <3

#my writing #my hcs #wife #bg3 #fluff #gale dekarios #headcanons #baldur's gate 3 #brainrot #x reader #x tav

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f4nrir · 1 year

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eddie brock/venom nsfw alphabet

hi! i'd love to see an nsfw alphabet done for eddie brock/venom, C, K, M, W, P, L, & T :D

Eddie Brock/Venom nsfw alphabet

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Eddie's preferred way would be cumming all over your face and stomachs, depending on what you two are doing. When you suck him off, he'd rather not have you swallow his cum. Even though he splits a body with Venom, he's still a cleanly man and finds it perturbing. If he's pleasing you, he wouldn't mind if you make him swallow since he enjoys it. He feels as if he isn’t “clean” enough to have that done to him, due to the symbiote living inside him. Venom on the other hand is quite the opposite, he'd use you as his own cum dump and would want you to also fill him up. He has plenty to produce and finds satisfaction in seeing your hole leaking with his cum and when it's his turn, he'd want the same thing.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bondage - Eddie and Venom have a huge thing for being tied up, unable to move within your control. Even though they're extremely strong, they somehow melt like putty when you are in control and can't seem to get out of the ropes. On the other hand, seeing you tied up makes them feel more power and takes advantage of that in every way, with consent of course.

Praise - They both love being showered with praise and attention, especially when they're pleasing you. Your pleasure matters the most to them and hearing encouraging words only makes them want to perform even better. Your moans are enough to drive them crazy but with a mix of praise, you're up for a long night.

Tentacles/Monster(?) - When venom takes over, he penetrates you in different ways. Whether it'd be his "dick" or tentacles, which he prefers. He feels as if it accurately assembles his character, as he is an otherworldly creature. With this method, he can please you in many different ways at the same time and overwhelm you with different sensations.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The littlest sounds emitting from you is enough to get them going, even if you didn't mean it in a sexual way. A small grunt or moan from pain, you can expect them to start peppering your neck in kisses and rut against you.

Simply sitting down on your lap and feeling your bulge feels like ecstacy, expect an innocent cuddle session to turn into a night full of rough fucking on both ends.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

They love marking you. When they’re pinned below you as you’re thrusting in them, they claw at your back and leave pleasurable, stinging marks. Eddie usually does this as Venom’s sharp claws would do too much damage. But to make sure that you know he’s there, the pressure would be profound.

Eddie also likes being marked up. He loves the sensation of your hot breath against his neck. He likes to know that he’s taken and always loves it when you leave love bites all over his neck. Venom enjoys it too, as his senses are heightened and he’s more sensitive to your touch.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Eddie’s thrusts are at a medium space, keeping it slow yet making sure he hits the right spot over and over again. When he’s riding you/fucking himself, he prefers it rough and fast. Depending on the mood though, sometimes he’d only want to make sweet, gentle love.

Venom loves it rough and fucking each other like animals in heat, he craves you all the time and can't seem to get enough of you. He isn't the type for sweet love making, lots of rough sex is what he provides best.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Because of Venom, Eddie prefers private spaces with lots of room to be able to do extensive activities. He's also possessive, he doesn't like showing off your body to anyone else. Quite the opposite of Venom, he wouldn't mind doing it anywhere and prefers it to be that way. He loves showing you off and have people with exotic interests watch you please one another. It's not quite common to find people like that though, so it happens once in awhile.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

They have plenty. The pair are always together, which comes with experimenting whenever they're bored. They always want you to join and everyone takes turns, however, they prefer pleasing you the most and could go for hours doing what you'd like to do.

#— zeppelin’s files 📁#eddie brock x venom x reader #male reader #eddie brock x male reader #eddie brock x reader #venom x male reader #venom x reader #venom x eddie #marvel headcanons #venom headcanons

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Slashers With An ADHD S/O✦

This could also be taken as slashers with a s/o that has unmedicated ADHD, it's essentially just them responding to your info dumping or random-ass questions. This is definitely not me just wanting to project random facts onto people-

✧GN!Reader, mention of skinwalkers(in case you're worried bout the energy that might bring), brief mention of cannibalism✧ ✧Bo; He/Him, Vincent; He/They, Lester; He/Him, Thomas; He/Him, Bubba; He/She/They, Stu; He/Him, Billy Lo; He/Him, Brahms; He/Him✧

❀Bo Sinclair❀

He's gonna act so sick of it but he often gets wrapped up in what you're doing. I've always been on the fence if he's neurotypical, or if he has unmedicated ADHD.

If you ask a random ass question that he can't immediately answer, he'll try to brush you off, but then he'll get too curious. Leading to hours of you two coming up with theories or researching some obscure topic. Sometimes it leads to debates that might get heated, but they never turn into actual fights.

Although sometimes he's too tired to deal with your random shit. Like, if you two are in bed, and you roll over with a super obscure topic? He'll give you some tired grunts as responses, but eventually, he'll cover your mouth and tuck you under his chin. "Doll, I'ma need you to shut ya mouth." He loves you but he needs his beauty sleep.

You were washing dishes as Bo sat in the living room, sipping a beer and losing his focus on a TV show. Things were quiet and peaceful. He'd been a bit on edge today, but that was chalked up to his lingering headache. Aside from that? Nothing was wrong, and it allowed everyone in Ambrose to relax...assuming they weren't encased in wax. But your brain was not relaxed. Not with the question that had been bouncing around all day. Finally, it was too much to bare on your own, so after drying your hands you poked your head around the door frame to the kitchen. Staring at Bo on the couch. He sensed it, setting his beer on his knee as he looked over, expecting your words.

"Bo, how come you never see an ad for microwaves?"

His brow furrowed before his eyes rolled. "Really? Darlin' what kind of stupid ass question is th-..." He trailed off as he properly processed the question. You blinked, staring, waiting as you watched it settle over him. The same confusion. He shook his head. "Prolly 'cause everyone knows ya need one." He said, trying to brush it off, but that answer was not satisfying. "But then why are there ads for other appliances? Or toilet paper? Everyone knows you need that stuff." You replied. Bo bit his lower lip as he looked up, thinking again. "...well shit, I don't fuckin' know." He admitted. You jumped in the air and made dramatic hand motions. "SEE?! Right?! It's been bothering me all day!!" You exclaimed. Bo rubbed his forehead as he tried to come up with an answer, or perhaps bring forth the memory of a microwave commercial.

You hopped over the back of the couch and settled next to him. "Bo, it's been eating away at me. I can't come up with anything." You whispered. "I can't either...shit! Why is that a thing?!" Bo demanded, you laughed and put your face in your hands. "Nah nah, we're gonna think of something. This shit's gonna eat at me." He said, setting his beer on the coffee table. He was in too deep now. There was no escaping without an answer.

❀Vincent Sinclair❀

Vincent can't really respond to your random questions or factoids, his vocal cords are damaged and he only speaks when necessary. However, he'll listen! Most of the time anyway. Occasionally, they'll be too focused to hear what you're saying, but they'll pause and sign for you to repeat your last sentence. He wants to indulge you.

You'll remind him of Lester when they were all younger. For this reason, they won't get annoyed. They're a seasoned veteran of the random ramblings of an individual with ADHD. That, and it makes him feel at peace hearing you in the background of whatever he's doing. Reminds him of a more peaceful time.

Vincent's an insomniac. He can stay awake to hear your latest info dump, but, if he's exhausted enough? He's gonna pass out. It doesn't matter how loud you're ranting either. He finds your voice soothing and it's hard to stay awake when they're so tired, and you feel so safe. But don't worry, if you want, they'll ask you to start talking about the topic again in the morning. After their coffee, of course.

There was a quiet scraping sound mingling with the bubbling of wax in a large vat in the basement. Vincent's hands worked diligently as he formed the shape of a man's arm, carefully sculpting the subtle curve of a bicep. They were in their zone, completely focused. Taking even, deep breaths as they went to grab a more precise tool.

"VINCENT!"

And the silence was shattered, making the man fumble with the tool, doing a short juggling act until he caught it. He looked over at you bouncing into his workspace, grinning. "Oh! Sorry, did I mess you up?" You asked as you noticed he was working. Vincent let out a sigh and shook their head, allowing you to relax, energy coming back full force. He set his tool down and signed to you. "What's wrong?" He asked, making you shake your head. "Oh nothing, but I just learned something super cool!" You walked closer and pulled up a chair, setting yourself on top of it.

"Do you anything about Egyptian mythology?" You asked with an excited grin. Vincent paused and tapped his fingers a few times on his leg before shaking his head. "Great! Okay, so there's this god, Anubis, also called Anpu or Inpu. He's a deity relating to death and the passing of the people of Egypt. He's got a jackal head most of the time, which is basically a canine. One of the things he's known for is this ceremony where he weighs a heart against a feather to see if it's pure, and if the heart is heavier than the feather, it's impure. So! He'll feed it to this other deity named Ammit. Which would basically mean your soul can't move on to the underworld." You paused to take a deep breath. Vincent had settled in his own seat at this point, listening intently. He'd never been much for mythology aside from his Greek phase in high school. But you were so passionate and admittedly? The factoids were interesting.

They'd gladly listen for hours on end, it made you so happy, how could he not indulge?

❀Lester Sinclair❀

This man is the king of random factoids, are you kidding me? Do you think he wouldn't be as passionate about your random topics? Fool that you are! He has just as many! It's definitely a bonding thing for the two of you.

The things he brings up most are bug & plant related, but he loves learning from you. He's got several learning disabilities so learning from a book is a bit difficult. This is partially why he loves learning from you. Be careful to have your facts straight though.

You could wake him up at two am and get him enraptured in a conversation with ease. He won't be mad, just a bit groggy at first. He utterly adores the fact you're so willing to share the things you're passionate about, no matter how random they are. And Lester is elated that you return the favor.

Wood shavings fell to the ground as Lester whistled a tune, carving a new knife handle out of some old cherry oak he'd found. He'd hoped to give this one to Bo, in order to replace the switchblade the man had that was starting to give up on him. It was peaceful on his cabin porch. Birds chirping, bugs buzzing, trees only swaying in a slight breeze. He stopped his whistling tune when he heard the screen door creak open and saw you walk out. He smiled as you sat beside him. "Afternoon' sugar." He greeted.

"Lester, I need you to confirm something for me." You said with an intense look. The man rose an eyebrow and looked you over. "Alright...what is it?" He asked. He watched you inhale deeply and finally open your mouth with the question. "Is it true that there are creatures in the ocean that look like tiny bunnies but they're slugs?" Lester blinked before he laughed a bit, a grin stretching across his face. "Yeah, there are! They're called sea bunnies! They're real small critters, buncha slugs in the ocean look real cool. There's one that looks like 's made of leaves too. It eats like a plant too! That photosin-photo, whatever's called." He mumbled. You gasped loudly.

"There are sea slugs that can photosynthesize?! Oh my god!" You cheered. Lester snickered and nodded vigorously. "Baby, I thought they were fake! They're so small and cute, I just wanna squish'em." You explained, making a little squishing motion with your hand. Lester hummed in agreement. "There's this other one. Looks like a dragon, but ya can't pick'em up 'cause they're real poisonous." He said, feeling his heart swell as you let out a sad whine. "All the cool things are poisonous." You complained. You looked back at him with adoration and a smile made from sunshine. "Can you tell me more about random animal stuff?" Lester couldn't have been happier to hear you ask. "Well, don't mind if I do." He adjusted himself in his seat, feeling joy rush through his brain as he started his factoid rant.

❀Thomas Hewitt❀

Alright, he's neurodivergent, but he's never been the type to info dump or even deeply explore his interests. Mostly because he's never had the time or ability. However, seeing how deep you get into your stuff will probably inspire him to indulge himself more.

He doesn't know what a hyperfixation is but he'll relate if you tell him about it. Thomas' tend to be things like sewing and, fittingly enough, mechanics of things like chainsaws. He used to be into old cars when he was younger but Luda Mae would often tell him not to poke around, for fear he'd get hurt by something.

Thomas finds your ease around him cathartic. Sometimes, when you're rambling, he won't be fully listening. Not because he doesn't care but because he's too focused on the fact you're with him. Even when he's at his most exhausted, he'll always find time and energy to watch you be passionate. To share those things with him? It feels unreal sometimes.

Thomas huffed as he tossed a small bale of hale towards a pile in the back of the dilapidated barn. Sweat rolled down his skin, which he wiped with the fabric of his shirt. He tilted his neck and only slightly winced when it cracked loudly. "Tommy!" And there it went again, feeling his heart melt and his stress fade away. Usually when his name was called it meant someone needed something, that he was about to be insulted, that he was doing something wrong. But not with you. No, you always said his name in the sweetest tone. He turned to face you, watching you run up to the barn with a smile. You remembered to step over the board at the entrance since it had unhidden nails.

"Tommy! Okay, baby, I know you're working but can I tell you about something really cool?" He exhaled and his gaze softened. With a deep grunt and a nod, he moved a hay bale off to the side and motioned to it. You cooed and walked up, sitting down on the bale with a grin. "You're a sweetheart." You praised, making him blush. "Okay, so, you know how Native Americans have super rich history? And like, they even have things akin to cryptids and they have their own folklore?" Thomas nodded as he went back to work, showing he was still listening.

"Alright, well, don't take my word for everything here because I may be wrong on some of it. But! There are these things called skinwalkers, in English anyway. They're a thing most notably spoken about from Indigenous tribes around the southwest, like here and Oklahoma and stuff. Typically they're described as shapeshifting beings with deformed, almost, humanoid bodies. The origins kind of vary based on where you get it from, but some traditions say that they used to be powerful medicine men who succumbed to evil. Some other origins think that they're people who committed a deep sin." Your hands moved with your words and you occasionally paused as to not stutter over the words. Though it was a taboo topic to speak about and not something Thomas would've ever sought out, he listened. Pausing his work to stare at you lovingly as you rambled about a creature that was probably pretty nightmare-inducing. He couldn't bring himself to be disturbed. Only succumb to the adoration in his chest.

❀Bubba Sawyer❀

Bubba's neurodivergent as well, they have their hyperfixations, but sadly can't share them much. One, because her family often expressed annoyance so she's no longer willing to show them. Two, she can't really talk. He's only able to babble things that sometimes sound kind of like words.

But oh, oh he ADORES when you share your interests or ask him weird questions. It brings him so much joy. And they feel so seen when you acknowledge they want to share something with you as well. You become Bubba's hyperfixation safe space and he returns the effort tenfold. (Her fixations are jewelry & fashion magazines)

She'll never not listen to you. Of course, if he's working, he'll need to be focused on that. But you're more than welcome to sit nearby and keep talking. They take note of everything you say, and if it's something he can find and give to you? They'll search for something you'll like so hard every chance they get.

Bubba patted his hands on his lap as you sewed a hole in his apron. Though Bubba knew how to sew, and enjoyed it, sometimes their big hands made it difficult. That and their random muscle spasms. But, you were always willing to help, something that made his love for you triple almost every day. You smiled as she leaned in to watch you work more closely. "You know, Bubs. Maybe I should make you a dress. I have a few designs I think you'd look great in." You said. Bubba's brown eyes widened and she squealed, watching you finish the stitch, placing the needle down. As soon as he was sure you wouldn't get pricked, he squeezed you in his arms, making you laugh.

You set his apron in his lap and stood up, grabbing a busted-up sketchbook that they'd grabbed off a meal once. You sat back beside her and flipped open to a page. Bubba flapped her hands excitedly as she caught sight of a chubby figure in the concept of a flowy dress. "See, I tried to consider what would be best with your work. I figured sleeves would get in the way so I kept them either short or just as straps, adjustable of course." You explained as you pointed to the sketches. "I mostly took inspiration from those magazines you have. Most of those dresses have shirt tops and blouson cuts, but I couldn't help myself by when I imagined you in a sundress." Your smile grew wider as Bubba wiggled in place, letting out happy squeals and excited squeaks.

You began to ramble about different waist cuts and fabric patterns, colors that you felt would compliment Bubba's skin tone. Eventually ending up in his lap as he squeezed you, rocking back and forth. Feeling adored and cared for. No one else had ever put in this effort to indulge her and she felt ready to cry from joy. You hummed and turned a page. "You know, I think a babydoll cut nightgown would also be real cute on you.~" You purred, going to slowly turn the page again. Bubba caught sight of a slightly revealing babydoll cut "nightgown", with detailed lace, clearly meant to be a bit see-through. They squeaked and covered their face. You laughed fondly and reached to place kisses on the backs of their knuckles.

❀Stu Macher❀

Again, you think this dude doesn't have ADHD? There ain't no way in hell. This man is a poster child for unmedicated ADHD if I've ever seen one. His hyperfixations being horror movies and true crime, clearly. He loves to have someone to rant about these things with, but a lot of people aren't down with it. Imagine his joy when he found out you were. And even more so when you do the same back.

He's a bit hard to get into things that don't already interest him. But, he does his best to listen anyway, since you do that with him. However, if you have a similar interest to him? Stu is all over that shit. He finds you so sexy when you rant about the cinematography of your favorite movie or the psyche of a fictional killer.

If you know you have ADHD and tell him, you might actually be able to convince him to get tested. It won't change anything, but Stu being on meds would probably help him out in school...or it would just help him be more down to earth. That's wishful thinking though.

"Babe! Baby, babe babe babebabebabe!" Your voice cut over the movie Stu was watching, making him pause it. The image of Jason standing in a doorway to a cabin fizzled and glitched on the old TV. He laughed when you dove over the back of the couch, setting down the snacks and drinks you brought, quickly turning to face him. "I have theories and I need to spill them before I forget about them." You said. Stu grabbed a soda and cracked it open. "Well spill then baby! I'm all ears!" He grinned, taking a large gulp of Dr.Pepper. You got yourself comfortable and cleared your throat, starting off with a deep breath. "It's about the Ghostface killings recently." Now that caught his attention. "Yeah? What'cha got, babe?" Twisted excitement formed in his chest as he awaited your words.

"I don't think there's one killer, I think there's two." His brain sparked up and his heartbeat arose, leaning his arm on the back of the couch as he listened. "See cause, when Casey was in her house, she was called on the phone and the killer talked to her right? They probably were giving her things to make her think she could survive, if it were me I'd choose...like, a trivia thing. Get the answers right, ya live. But of course she didn't They killed her boyfriend on the porch while she was still on the phone, but then evidence showed someone was in the house to hunt her down. That doesn't make sense! There would be no feasible way only one person could utterly tear Steve's organs out and then get into the house without her noticing. She probably had both doors locked anyway! But, if someone else was already inside while a second killer Jack-The-Ripper-style killed Steve, it would make so much more sense!"

Stu ran his tongue along his lower lip, watching you get more animated and invested into your theory. Despite talking about a recent murder of peers, the terrifying concept that there were two people out there ready to commit horrific acts, you were smiling. Buzzing off excitement while talking about a murder. "And! The amount of strength and time it would've taken to tie her and pull her over a tree branch, not being seen? One person doing that is hard to believe, but two people? That's a piece of cake!" You declared, only to be cut off by a passionate kiss to the mouth. It silenced you for a moment, but it didn't do anything to your stuttering heartbeat. Stu pulled back with a smug grin. "You're so sexy when you dissect murder plans." He said. You snorted and let out a loud laugh. "I'm a fuckin' freak, huh?" Stu laughed. "And I love it, baby!"

❀Billy Loomis❀

He deals with Stu every day, he's used to it. Billy's not one who infodumps or hyperfixates, but he's not incredibly annoyed by it. Most of the time anyway.

If you catch him in a bad mood, he might ask you to be quiet, but it's not personal. It's not that he doesn't care or anything, he's just not in the mood for a lot of information being said to him at a fast rate. Most of the time though, he'll be perfectly fine with it.

He won't really get into it with you, but he'll support your interests and occasionally entertain your weird questions. Billy's particularly happy if your hyperfixation benefits him, however. Like with Stu, true crime & horror movies are things he's always willing to hear about.

Billy paused the movie and looked over. "You've been chewing on your lip this entire time, just spit it out." He said bluntly, though he had a calm smile on his face. Both of you were sat in your bedroom on your bed, watching a copy of Halloween H20 that you'd rented. Billy didn't really like movie talkers so you'd tried your best to hold it all in until the end, even if you had a million things to say. But he knew better and he was in a good mood. As long as you weren't talking over the movie, he wouldn't have a problem. He bit back an amused snicker as you let out a relieved breath and got ready to rant.

"I was just thinking if there was maybe a reason Michael can survive so much. Cause like, he is human. He needs to eat, we hear him breathe, even if he doesn't die he does get wounded by people attacking him. So it's not that he's a demon, even if Loomis calls him pure evil, so maybe there's a medical reason he can withstand all that!" You began. Billy set the remote down and pulled himself up to sit against the headboard, crossing his arms and nodding, urging you to continue. "Okay, so, hear me out. What if he just has a surplus of stem cells? Like, they're out of control." You said, starting to talk with your hands. "Stem cells? Remind me what those are again."

You huffed and muttered something fondly about how he failed biology. He snorted at the comment. "Stem cells come from your bone marrow and they're what helps you heal from stuff. Like, if a section of your liver is removed? Stem cells will make the organ grow back to the perfect size for your body. When we get older, they tend to slow down, which is why it takes longer to heal from stuff. But theoretically, if Michael just has a fuck ton, he could come back from almost anything. As long as he has bone marrow, he'd keep producing stem cells, and he'd keep healing. At that rate, even old age couldn't kill him. Old age doesn't kill you, it's just your body's functions shutting down because of old dying cells." Billy hummed and rose his eyebrows, considering your theory for a moment. He then nodded with a smile. "That would actually make a lot of sense. A lot better than the cult idea." You beamed. "Thank you! Also yeah, that movie was fuckin' awful." He laughed and opened his arm, allowing you to lay against him. "You gonna let it play now?" He asked, to which you nodded. He patted your arm and grabbed the remote, allowing the movie to play again.

❀Brahms Heelshire❀

Aight, he's autistic, he doesn't have ADHD. He needs strict structure, he has no idea how you just wing everything. You're all over the place! It's frustrating! ...sometimes, other times it's fun to watch and listen to you. Brahms hasn't ever really had friends, not ones that seem so excited to talk to him anyway. It's a nice change, actually.

He'll start to be more comfortable with sharing his own thoughts on things he's really into. Brahms has never been able to speak for an hour on a chapter in a book before, and he feels really at ease when you listen to him. He's a bit hypocritical and occasionally tunes you out when you're ranting, but he'll usually try to listen.

Brahms is amazed at how many topics you can seemingly flow into, even when starting on something completely unrelated. He's endlessly entertained by you, so much so, that it'll occasionally make up for you accidentally letting time get away from you and going off schedule. Occasionally.

Brahms cleaned his brush as you spoke, running it over a napkin to dry it off and ensure it wasn't holding any more of the green paint. You'd been rambling for an hour now, more so to yourself than to him. The noise was a nice change from the deafening silence that he'd been used too in the walls. Brahms lifted his mask slightly to take a bit of the sandwich you'd made him, allowing himself to tune back into your rant. "Actually, some people have said that there's a stage of decomposition where the stench is almost sickeningly sweet. I've never smelt it like that though, the stench of death is pretty recognizable as not sweet." Brahms stopped mid-chew and stared at you. Where in the hell had you gotten this from? He could've sworn you started on food first.

"I wonder if cannibals found that smell appealing, actually. Maybe they considered it the "still safe to eat" time for when a body is already dead. I imagine they'd want it fresh though." You muttered whilst putting away a glass. "Actually! Interesting fact, some cannibals have described human meat as being akin to pork, just with a strong & bitter aftertaste. And the more muscular someone is, the chewier they are. Also I think I read once that tattoo ink has a terrible taste, which would make sense I suppose. In history, human was sometimes described as long pig or hairless goat!" Brahms cleared his throat and snapped you out of your train of thought. You made eye contact with him through his porcelain mask, seeing his look of confusion and slight concern. You chuckled bashfully, rubbing the back of your neck. "I don't know why I know these things, but I promise it's not from personal experience." You reassured.

Brahms sighed and shook his head. You untensed a bit when he let out a little chuckle, one that was deep and genuine, not covered by his "child" voice. "You have got to be the most interesting nanny I've ever had." He said, accent thick as he spoke. Your face heated up and you let out a soft laugh, nodding. "Probably the most out there for sure. I'll take that as a compliment and uh, stop talking about cannibalism now." Brahms nodded and took another bite of his sandwich, pushing the chair out next to him with his leg. You took it with a smile. "How about you talk instead, hm?" You offered. Brahms cleared his throat again and nodded, he had plenty of things to discuss. Perhaps the eras of painting styles would be a good choice.

(bet you thought the cannibalism was gonna be in Thomas or Bubba's huh? YOU THOUGHT WRONG)

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sevenofboop · 4 months

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I have ideas for a Wolf!Shart AU but I’m not much of a writer and don’t have the attention span to do an actual comic but also don’t know how 🥲 so I’m just gonna be dumping my random thoughts here. If this none of this makes sense, this is purely self-indulgent. I am also welcome to any suggestions to this or if someone just full on wants to write a fanfiction for this please be my guest 😉

Lae’zel encounters a large injured wolf in a cave. She’s not sure why or what comes over her but she heals the creature. Morning after the wolf is gone. Subsequent nights when returning to camp Lae’zel finds fresh animal kills left there like some kind of offering.

One night she catches the same wolf she healed lurking in the shadows. They begin to travel together. She names the wolf ‘Shadowheart’

On the night of a full moon, something wakes Lae’zel. She finds that the wolf is gone and in her place she finds a white haired half-elf above her and peering at her curiously. Lae’zel pulls out the knife she always keeps by her bedroll and demands to know who the stranger is and what they have done with the wolf.

The stranger frowns and stutters out the word “Shadowheart”. Speaking feels strange to her, the words and sounds feeling almost unfamiliar on her tongue. Lae’zel pauses, confused. She then realises that the wolf and the stranger are one and the same.

Turns out Shadowheart was cursed to spend most of her life as a wolf except only on nights of the full moon. She doesn’t remember her life before becoming a wolf or her name and hasn’t interacted with another person before Lae’zel in a long time.

More sketches/illustrations and ideas to come just haven’t fleshed them all out yet and again I am open to people sharing their thoughts with me!

#shadowheart #shartzel #shadowzel #my art #werewolf #au #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #lae’zel

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its-time-to-write · 10 months

Note

Hi!! I hope you’re well !! Thank you so much for keeping the Jaimie Tartt community well fed like I will forever be in your debt you’re amazing‼️‼️ My humble request is in honor of SNTV:) My favorite songs are Enchanted and Sparks Fly so maybe a complicated angsty start up to a fluffy love confession (like they just haven’t gotten the timing right until now or they were friends and then something happens to her). IDK anyway sorry for the word vomit and thank you bunches for all your hard work!!

I loved this request!! Also sorry, all my fics seem to be ending the same way this days😬 But we keep getting to the ending in new and exciting ways so hopefully no one cares! Enjoy!

wonderstruck

You knew the moment you met Keeley Jones that your friendship was going to be a wild ride. You were still in uni, and had picked up a one-off job as one extra on a commercial shoot. The pay wasn’t bad (hey, it was extra money) and you were willing to sacrifice a Saturday for it. Keeley was one of the frontrunners for the commercial, all big hair and wild makeup. You had bumped into her by chance at the food table, started talking, and the rest was history. One random job turned into a solid four years of friendship. It was a funny dynamic between you and Keeley, because she was both older sister and antagonizer. She liked to pull you out of your comfort zone, taking you to clubs, parties, events, whatever as her plus one. Well, until she started dating a prick footballer named Jamie Tartt.

You didn’t meet him while they were together. You’d already known Keeley for two and a half years at that point, and understood she had shit taste in men. You weren’t afraid to tell her that to her face and she’d just laugh and say, “I know babes, but it’s right fun, innit?”

You’d laugh and shake your head, then go back to carefully painting her nails in the brightest, sparkliest colors imaginable.

Keeley was really, really good for you.

She called you the night she broke up with Jamie, and you came over to her house with a giant bottle of champagne only to find her and another woman, a Rebecca Welton, already proper tipsy and giggling on the floor. They were still dolled up from that night’s benefit while you were in pajamas, but you didn’t let that stop you. You downed half a bottle while Keeley and Rebecca cheered. You were glad Keeley had dumped that awful, cheating, self-absorbed prick. She deserved so much better.

You were glad when she started dating Roy Kent. He was a lot more down-to-earth than she was, and they were a good balance for each other. You wondered if Keeley gravitated toward those of a more serious nature in the same way you were drawn to those who were more spontaneous.

Post-uni, you had started your own business. It was kind of a random venture, something you had begun for a friend, but then it took off. You made the most outrageous, eccentric day-to-day dresses, taking a simple pattern then transforming it with wild patterns, tulle, and the occasional sparkle. Keeley, angel that she was, modeled some of them and put them on her instagram. And just like that, you were selling out.

It was absolutely insane, but you were able to spend the week making two dresses and then turn over a nice profit. You felt like you were overcharging but Keeley said, “Babe, if you’re selling out, you might be undercharging.”

All that to say, life with Keeley Jones as your friend was absolutely magical. You’d do anything for her. Including going to a fucking benefit as her plus one.

—

“Why can’t you just take Roy?”

“Roy’s already got his own invite. He’s a coach, so he has to be there even though he’s going to fucking hate it.” Keeley laughs. She thinks Roy’s grumpiness is endearing.

“Alright, why’d you get a plus one then? It doesn’t make sense, Keels,” you counter.

Keeley refuses to meet your eyes. “It’s entirely possible that Rebecca gave me one so that you’d come.”

“Keeleyyy,” you groan.

She shoves your shoulder playfully. “She knew if she sent you a direct invite you wouldn’t go, and she said she’d let us meet up at her house to get ready together! C’mon babes, it’s going to be so much fun and we’ll look sooo fucking fit walking the red carpet together, yeah?”

She gives you her widest puppy-dog eyes, lower lip pushing out. You sigh.

“Fucking fine. Fine. But you’re coming with me to pick out a dress. And you’re buying my coffee.”

Keeley cheers and tackles you in a hug. “You won’t regret it, I swear. Worst case you can just bitch about it with Roy the next day.” You laugh. You and Roy bitch about a lot of things together.

—

The red carpet is absolutely terrifying. It’s louder than you would have thought and the flashes from the camera are giving you a headache.

“How the hell do you do this?” you ask Keeley through a smile.

She laughs for the cameras. “Loads of practice, babe,” she replies in a perfect pose. “Now look at me and laugh at something I said.”

You’re almost done and the paps are asking for a photo of Keeley and Roy, so you wait off to the side near the entrance for them. You crane your neck to try to find Rebecca, to no avail. You do however catch the eye of someone with a very nice fashion sense and very, very blue eyes. He gives you a once-over and grins. You blush and turn back to Keeley and Roy who have finished and are making their way over to you. Keeley grabs your hand and says, “Hi Jamie!” while Roy rolls his eyes. Jamie says, “Hey Keeley,” and nods to Roy. “Grandad.”

“Fuck you,” Roy replies, and you’re surprised at the borderline affectionate tone he’s using. Especially considering Jamie is Keeley’s ex. He’s not really what you would have expected, but you don’t have time to dwell on that because Keeley’s dragging you inside the benefit venue.

—

Jamie is sitting at the same table as you.

Correction: he’s sitting right fucking next to you and it’s all you can do to avoid eye contact with him. You had introduced yourself to him with a barely suppressed grimace and steeled yourself for a long, misogyny-filled night.

You were so tense that Keeley put her hand on your knee and said, “I’ve got to go reapply my lipliner, d’you want to come with?”

You got up and followed her, feeling far too exposed in your backless, purple-sequined dress.

“Alright babe, what gives?” she asks once you’ve made it to the bathroom. “You’re wound up so tight I could stick coal up your ass and get a diamond.”

That makes you crack a smile and you shrug. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Keeley shakes her head. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, I’ve had four years of practice knowing exactly when you’re telling me a fib.”

“Who’s fibbing?” Rebecca says, walking in the door. “I saw Keeley drag you in here, and I didn’t want to miss out on some girl talk.”

“Oh thank god you’re here,” you say, relieved. “I’ve been looking for you for the past hour and couldn’t find you.”

Rebecca self-consciously smooths her hair. “I’ve been- busy,” she says. “But this isn’t about me. What are you fibbing about?”

You look between Rebecca and Keeley then deflate. “I have to sit next to Jamie Tartt.”

Keeley and Rebecca share a look. “I don’t see what that’s such a bad thing,” Rebecca says.

You look at her in disbelief. “Jamie Tartt? The biggest prick in all of London, and quite possibly all of England? Cheated on Keeley multiple times and all-around arsehole?”

Keeley grimaces. “Yeah, not one of his finer points in life.”

“See?” you say. “He’s the fucking worst!” Rebecca and Keeley share another look.

“Stop fucking doing that,” you say. “What?”

“Darling,” Rebecca says gently, “he’s changed.”

You’re not buying it, a sentiment that is evident in your expression.

“It’s true, babes,” Keeley affirms. “And look, I’d probably be the fucking last person to say it. But he has! He’s loads better than he used to be, an absolute sweetheart. Even Roy loves him.”

You snort.

“Okay, maybe love is a strong word,” Keeley amends. “But he likes him! Roy said Jamie’s the best player on the team, and possibly one of the best in the country!”

You’re still not buying it.

“Listen,” Rebecca says. “Give him one hour free of bias. Forget who he was and give him a chance. You might be surprised.”

You look to Keeley, unsure. It is her ex, after all.

To your surprise, she’s smiling and nodding. “Go for it,” she says. “You never know what could happen.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you laugh. Only Keeley Jones could try to pawn her ex off on her best friend with the confident assurance that he’s a better man now. You know she’s not lying, or at least she believes Jamie’s changed. You’re not sure what to believe, but you’ll take Rebecca’s advice and give Jamie one hour to change your mind.

—

You’re not in your seat two seconds before Jamie starts talking to you.

“Why d’you look so nervous love? I don’t bite.” He grins. “Much.”

You catch yourself before you grimace and instead say, “This whole thing isn’t really my scene. It’s a lot of people I don’t know, and I’m only here ‘cause Keels asked me to be her plus one.”

Jamie still has that obnoxious grin on his face. “What does Roy think about you stealing his girlfriend? Can’t imagine he’d take it lying down.”

You glance over at Keeley and Roy. His arm is around the back of her chair and she’s leaning into him ever so slightly.

You say, “I’ve been here longer than he has, so if anyone’s stolen her, it’s him,” and you watch the pieces click into place in Jamie’s head.

“Shit,” he says. “You’re the best friend. Shoulda known when you told me your name.”

You shrug.

“Makes sense,” he continues. “I wondered why you weren’t fuckin’ beside yourself to be sitting by the fittest bloke in the room.”

You roll your eyes, hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

He pulls his chair a little closer and looks at you again with those perfect blue eyes. “Seriously, I am sorry. I was a prick. It took Keeley breaking up with me for me to start gettin’ my head out of me arse.” Jamie’s words back up what Keeley and Rebecca told you. You’re not entirely ready to brush his past under the rug, but tell him that it seems like he did a right proper job of it, which makes him laugh.

“Do you really think you’re the fittest guy in here?” you ask.

Jamie gestures to the room. “Look around, babe. I ain’t lying.”

You laugh, and the tension dispels. You’ve 55 minutes to go, and then you can go back to hating him. For now, you’ll let him keep cracking jokes.

—

The hour is up, but you’re still talking to Jamie. You don’t stop to consider why he’s still talking to you (maybe because he can’t stand the idea of anyone hating him) but he is. It’s actually enjoyable, so when he asks you to accompany him to the dance floor, you look to Keeley for approval instead of outright rejecting him.

Keeley says, “Go on babe, I’m gonna try to convince this one to get out there for at least one dance,” and Roy says, “Fuck no.”

You let Jamie take your hand as he promises, “No funny business, I swear,” and you just laugh.

You laugh through three songs because Jamie has a way of making you giggle. He swings you around and executes all kinds of moves that you’re sure you could never replicate, but you assume that being a Premier League footballer means he’s got to be coordinated. Makes sense that he can dance.

The fourth song is a slow one, so you move to leave the dance floor but Jamie catches your hand.

“Stay,” he says. “I’m having a really great time with you.”

You feel Keeley kick the bottom of your shoe from where she’s swaying with her arms around Roy’s neck.

It makes you stumble a little, just enough for Jamie to have to catch you. He grins. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

He puts your hands around his neck and his on your waist. It’s a soft touch, but you can feel sparks shooting up your hipbones.

You’re absolutely fucked.

Jamie doesn’t say a single thing, just sways along with the soft music and gazes into your eyes. You can’t look away no matter how hard you try.

The song ends and you let go of Jamie. He slides a hand up you waist and down your arm, lifts your hand to his lips, and kisses your inner wrist.

Before you can form a coherent thought, he’s gone.

Rebecca and Keeley are on you in a moment.

“You’re both coming to mine,” Rebecca says. “You have time to go home and get pajamas, but I’m getting out of here as soon as I can. I just made sure my pantry was restocked.”

—

It’s 2am. Rebecca and Keeley have successfully gotten you to admit that you like Jamie.

Against all odds, you like him.

Fuck.

“You’re sure it’s not weird?” you ask Keeley as you pace around Rebecca’s bedroom.

“For the millionth time, babe,” she says, “I really don’t. I think you two would be fucking adorable together.”

Rebecca nods in agreement. “I’m on Keeley’s side on this one. Jamie used to be a right little shit, but he’s really turned it around. And could you please stop wearing a hole in my rug? It’s giving me anxiety.”

You abruptly stop and plop down on the bed. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he was only trying to make me not hate him because I’m Keeley’s best friend?”

Rebecca makes an offended noise so you amend: “Sorry, one of Keeley’s best friends?”

“Listen,” Keeley says making her way to your spot on the end of the bed. She holds your arms. “I know Jamie. He was fucking interested. And he hasn’t been that way in a while. You should just fucking go for it.”

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. Rebecca and Keeley groan and flop back onto the bed.

“You’re absolutely hopeless,” Rebecca says, but it’s laced with affection. You grin.

“That’s why you love me.”

—

You don’t sleep. Keeley is sandwiched between you and Rebecca on Rebecca’s absolutely massive bed, and all you can think about is Jamie’s blue eyes and the sparks of electricity you felt wherever he touched you.

You can still feel the kiss on your wrist.

—

It rains for three days and you refuse to go to Nelson Road. Keeley’s out sick anyway, and Rebecca is busy with work. You are too, working on a commission in electric blue. It’s very cozy inside your flat, soft music playing as the rain plinks on your roof. You’re wearing your good sweats, the ones that match and don’t have stains. Your hair is freshly clean and pulled back in a clip and there’s a pot of tea on the stove.

Your heartbeat has not been normal since dancing with Jamie. It’s beating in an irregular pattern, horrendously out of sync with the calming sound of rain. You can’t get it to calm down so you decide to indulge and replay your entire interaction with Jamie, as a treat.

You’re just thinking about his hands on your waist and letting your mind wander to where else you think they should go, when there’s a knock on the door. You frown.

That’s odd. Who on earth could be at your door at 7pm on a Monday in pouring rain? You pad across the living room to the door and open it to find a very wet Jamie.

“Hi,” he says, and then he’s pulling you onto the porch and kissing you in the pouring rain.

You’re soaked through to the bone, but you don’t care. All you can feel is Jamie’s hair as you run your fingers through and his lips on yours as they devour you. It’s straight out of a movie.

You shiver, and Jamie breaks away.

“Got your address from Keeley,” he says. “She’s the one who told me to come here. Can we go inside?”

You nod mutely and let him in. “Aren’t you cold?” you ask.

He just laughs. “Nah babe, I run hot. You look right fucking freezing, though. Good thing I’m here, I’ll help you warm right up.”

You’re really starting to shiver. “You should get out of those clothes,” you say through chattering teeth.

“Could say the same about you,” Jamie replies. “Where’s your bedroom at?”

You all but drag him up the stairs to your room.

You think you’re going to kill Keeley for telling Jamie you liked him, but then you’re flat on your back, bare skin pressing into the duvet as Jamie Tartt presses hot kisses up your neck, and you forget all about her.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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aimbutmiss · 26 days

Text

It didn't take Mihawk long to catch up to whatever was going on between Shanks and Buggy.

And no, it wasn't because he used to listen to Shanks sob about the clown at dirty bars on random nights back in the day. His previous knowledge of their relationship was not needed with how obvious the red head was being at the moment.

Shanks watched Buggy's every move, listened to his every word as if they were sacred—as if he'd be punished by God if he missed a single thing.

His eyes moved down, to the red lips.

He licked his own in hunger.

He looked away, biting his lips.

So, Mihawk was no genius, but you didn't need to be one to see the desperate need and want in the man's every move.

Buggy saw it too, he was certain—but he ignored it like his life depended on it. He went out of his way to act like everything was normal between them, as much as he could. But the clown's phenomenal act had its limits too. You could see it crack in the way his breath hitched when their eyes accidentally locked, or when their knees bumped under the table. The recovery was fast after those single seconds, but Mihawk's eyes were faster. He watched, he saw, he knew.

The meeting was (thankfully) over, and Buggy was the first one to rush away despite Shanks' proposal to share a drink, leaving them behind. The man in front of him was clearly down in the dumps, but Mihawk had no intention of consoling him. He had done that on many nights in their youth with nothing in return, so he had learned his lesson the hard way. It was better to let the man drink away his worries on his own, as he usually did.

He was more worried about Crocodile, who had looked on the verge of killing Red Hair the entirety of the meeting. And even now, after everything was over, he was still fuming in the seat beside his. The two men didn't like each other, that was another obvious take away from the night. This meeting was a stupid idea from the beginning—Mihawk was surprised Crocodile agreed in the first place. Maybe it was curiosity that pushed him towards that decision, maybe something else—the man was certainly harder to read than the other two. But now, on his cigar number-God-knows-what, Crocodile probably regretted that decision.

He gently laid a hand on the man's thigh in reassurance, shifting his focus away from Shanks. "We should go home now. Let's not keep Buggy waiting."

Crocodile slowly came to his senses, calming down. He put out his cigar with a smirk, staring at Shanks head on. "You're right." He wasn't acknowledging what Mihawk said, but what he meant. No matter what the red head did it was them who got to go home to Buggy, not him. The frustration was unnecessary.

"It's always nice seeing you, Red Hair." Not necessarily a lie, but said to console Shanks nonetheless. He ended up doing it again... He still did have a soft spot for the sad man after all. With that, Mihawk got up to leave and walked side by side with his "business partner" to where Buggy was waiting for them. He was probably gonna be a lot more silent than usual, lost in his thoughts of the past, but that was okay. He wasn't alone— Mihawk would make sure of that. Because, unlike with Shanks, when he consoled the clown he actually got love in return. It felt nice, being loved after loving your whole life. He was glad he met Buggy, and ended up where they are somehow.

Mihawk was a man who didn't like leaving things to luck, but when it came to this—to them, he was grateful for it.

#this might be a mess I'm not sure #I just wrote whatever came to me in the moment #sorry i haven't been writing much btw!! nothing feels right idk 😭#one piece #buggy the clown #cross guild #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #red haired shanks #shuggy #bughawk

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g1rld1ary · 3 months

Text

come home with me ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ hbd lockwood & co!! this was meant to be for the anniversary but as always I have greatly miscalculated the english timezone... (also totally feeling pre-valentine's excitement!!)

➻ word count: 3720

➻ synopsis: when your bus breaks down in the middle of the night, one Anthony Lockwood may just be your knight in shining armour

➻ warnings: slight mentions of drinking, clubbing & drugs, lucy making slight suggestive jokes if you squint, reader is shorter than lockwood, sharing a bed, fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You sat in your bus seat, checking you still had all your cash and your fake I.D. Satisfied, your purse snapped shut, changing shape as you gripped it tightly. Although you took the bus fairly regularly, you felt much more alone tonight than you had in a while. You’d left your friends and their ‘galentines’ celebration early, not in the mood to go clubbing but not willing to ruin their vibe. Plus, you weren’t ready to celebrate a holiday all about love so soon after being dumped.

You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist mindlessly, knowing you were still a long way from your family’s apartment. You quickly scoped out the rest of the bus. A few middle aged couples — you imagined they were returning from sweet Valentine’s Day dates and ready to be home and in bed before one. You thought it was sweet that their love was stronger than their fear of the Problem, though the iron lined buses probably helped quell their apprehensions. Your eye caught the only other young person on board, a boy around your age who was staring out the window, rapier hanging off the edge of the seat and into the aisle. An agent, clearly, though you wondered why he was alone when they usually travelled in teams.

You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting to be caught staring at anyone who could proficiently use a sword. You bounced along in the seat until the bus began to slow, jerking the passengers around aggressively. When it came to a proper halt you felt a spike of panic run through you. You were all alone in an area you didn’t know and still at least a half hour cab ride from home way past curfew. To top it all off you were in your heels and new slinky dress, prepared for the safety of a club and not the outdoor weather. You were going to die, you were sure of it.

Then the lights flickered and dimmed. Great. You were almost certain this was the end when the doors were locked too. You rolled your eyes as you watched one of the adults jiggle the door around until it could be forced open, then reluctantly followed the rest of the passengers out onto the street. Just your luck, you were in the middle of a random residential street with no overhead covers except a tiny iron bus stop fifty metres away, which you reluctantly let the older couples hide in. At least the ghost lamps were on, and your very average senses told you there weren’t many ghosts out tonight; were you the only person in London — dead or alive — who didn’t have a valentine?

You watched as the bus driver pulled open the hatch to expose the engine, tinkering around nervously to hurry and find the issue. You leant against a ghost lamp as a shaky protection and felt a few freezing rain droplets land on your bare arms. Fabulous, the night was just getting better and better. You watched the driver huff in frustration and glance around nervously, you doubted you’d be getting back on the bus anytime soon.

You slid down the ghost lamp until you were sitting on the damp ground, past trying to impress anyone at that point. You telepathically tried to send your friends a message that you were going to be found probably ghost touched or hypothermic in the morning. You breathed a sarcastic laugh to try and convince yourself it was a joke, but you could feel the panic rising in the back of your throat. At sixteen you were not equipped to be stuck on the side of the road well into the night, past curfew and pathetically unarmed. You could feel someone’s stare and couldn’t tell whether it was at your sad excuse of a dress or at your position on the ground, but you were past caring, not even trying to shield yourself.

“Sorry, everyone, but I can’t fix this. Your best bet now is getting a cab and getting inside as soon as you can,” The bus driver explained apologetically, and some of the couples groaned, eyeing out the street for a taxi. You were past the point of feeling phased, tilting your head up to face the sky and embracing the storm on your face, not even thinking about the mascara tracks being run. When you reopened your eyes there were only a few people left; the driver, one couple, the teenager and you. You stood reluctantly, trying to think of a way to get yourself home.

You cracked open your wallet sullenly, expecting exactly was in there. A few dollars; enough for a few drinks but not nearly enough for a taxi to where you were going. You sighed, feeling defeat creep upon you as you tried to come up with any other method of getting home. You could return to the club — if you survived the walk — but even then your friends would be either too drunk or too high to be of any assistance. A huge crack of thunder drew you from your thoughts, a lightning storm was definitely brewing. Amazing.

You sighed, stress manifesting as the hot tears beginning to stream down your face. You felt utterly hopeless. You had nowhere to go and no way of contacting anyone, you couldn’t even use a payphone to call your parents as you’d promised you’d stay in while they were away for the weekend.

“Why tonight?” You asked the sky, more to express your irritation than to search for an answer. You could hear the agent escorting the couple down the street to a cab, easily soothing their fears with overconfident assurances. You knew he’d returned only by the occasional drag of iron against cement accompanying his footprints, presumably his rapier. Unknown to you he watched you as he approached, taking in your dishevelled state. You were pretty, undeniably, but the mascara smudged from rain and tears and your hair stuck to your face and shoulders made you look like you might’ve seen better days. He sucked in a breath and approached you.

“Hi,” He said, “I’m Lockwood.”

“Y/n.” You turned to him, hoping he’d realise you had no interest in talking.

“I know this sounds really creepy, but will you please come home with me? Promise I’m not trying to murder you, but this storm’s not getting any better and I can’t leave you to the ghosts in good conscience. My house is only a few blocks away; I live with another boy and a girl, both my age so we wouldn’t be alone. You can take all the precautions you like — keys between the fingers, walk on the other side of the street if you want,” He rambled and you sized him up. A lanky boy with a sword or the ghosts? You figured you had a better chance against him if it came to it.

“Ok.” You nodded, trying to smoothly push yourself off the pavement and appear well put together in front of the strange boy.

Lockwood led the way, holding the umbrella over his head. You followed a few feet away, cautious to be out of reach, just in case he did want to hurt you. Though you were jealous of his prior planning for the rain.

“Here, take my coat. You must be freezing.” He held it out to you and you gladly accepted, spaghetti straps doing nothing to fend off the cold. The coat was warm and enveloped you entirely, sitting below the hem of your dress. “So, are you in school?” He tried to break the silence.

“Yeah, for history. You?” You cringed as you realised the redundancy of your statement — his being an agent of some sort was more than obvious and only emphasised by the rapier he held out in front of him. He answered kindly anyway.

“I never did much school, I’ve been an agent as soon as I was allowed.”

“That’s cool, you in a big agency?” You asked, and Lockwood beamed with pride.

“Not exactly — not yet. I run my own agency, soon to be the best in Britain. Lockwood and Co, you might have seen us in the papers?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your own agency, huh? That’s big stuff. Wish I could say I’d heard of you, but I avoid the papers when I can, it just depresses me. You might have to be just Lockwood tonight if that’s alright,” You joked and Lockwood laughed out loud, giving you a glimpse of an illuminating smile.

“Just Lockwood is perfect,” He answered, and the conversation quickly moved on, the two of you quickly losing the awkward silences.

“I got caught up in my research — a first, believe me. If I’d known about the bus and the weather I would have just caught a cab, or bailed earlier which is far more likely.”

“Tell me about it. My friends are out clubbing and I’m here walking in the rain with a stranger — uh, no offence.”

“None taken,” He assured you, “Wait, how old are you?” He didn’t think you looked old enough to get into a club, although the smudged makeup may have had something to do with it.

“Sixteen…” You trailed off, suddenly afraid he would judge you for your bad habits.

“So you’ve got a fake ID?” He raised an eyebrow at your nod. “Lucky. I tried to get one once but my associate George yelled at me for forty minutes straight, I never tried again.” You giggled at his explanation, the image making Lockwood seem younger, less intimidating than he’d initially been.

You moved closer as you walked, eventually ending up under the umbrella and feeling much warmer without the violent rain. As you talked more you noticed Lockwood was quite attractive, in an odd sort of way. Despite his old fashioned attire (you didn’t think agents typically wore shirt and ties), he had the loveliest smile and soft looking hair, though some of it was plastered on his pale forehead, unable to escape the rain entirely. What stood out most though, were his cheekbones. They were impossibly defined and quite dreamy, if you were being honest.

You talked about all sorts of unexceptional things, and you had the impression that Lockwood was doing his best to entertain you and distract you from your previous mood. It was working though, so you had no complaints.

“I’ve got a bit of sensitivity — very average — but I’m not going to waste my adolescence being stuck in the nightwatch ‘cause I can’t make it to really being an agent,” You laughed softly, “So I figured if I studied history I could be of more use, learn more about the Problem and all that.”

“You’d get along famously with my friend George, he’s obsessed with trying to figure out the Problem. For me it’s about the action, knowing that I’m actually putting all these ghosts to rest and having a meaningful impact on people’s lives.” You watched him circle his sword in the air, keeping the few Type Ones around further than they’d been lurking.

“Is that why you started your own agency?”

The walk seemed much shorter once the two of you started talking, and soon you’d arrived at Lockwood’s house, 35 Portland Row. The outside was unassuming, but beautiful in the classic English way. You caught a glance of the Lockwood & Co sign and couldn’t help but smile; you could feel the love and passion Lockwood had for the company from the small discussion you’d had about it. As Lockwood pushed open the front door a woman was just heading up the staircase in the hall, but turned at the noise.

“Jesus, Lockwood, what time do you call this? I was getting worried! Who’s this?” She looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel self conscious under the beautiful girl’s stare. You thought she looked a bit teasing, and realised what conclusions she’d drawn. Embarrassing, but understandable.

“Luce, this is y/n. Y/n, Lucy, my associate. She’s staying with us tonight; our bus broke down and getting her home at this time is practically impossible.” Lucy nodded, but the amused twinkle in her eye didn’t dull.

“It’s nice to meet you then. I’d offer for you to bunk in with me, but I’ve got a nasty flu coming on and I doubt you’d want me anywhere near you.” She gestured down to the thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the steaming tea in her hand. You smiled to absolve her of responsibility and she waddled back up the stairs and into the dark.

Lockwood, in turn, led you up to the first landing and into his bedroom. He rifled through a chest of drawers as you tried not to snoop, eyes instead catching on the alluring movement of his fingers. He eventually handed you a t-shirt and some tracksuit pants.

“They might be a bit big, but they’ll do for the night,” He sounded embarrassed and you smiled in thanks. “The shower’s just down the hall, second door. You can go clean up.” You thanked him again before heading for a much needed shower.

You stood under the hot water, more than mindful not to take too long. You were so caught up in being grateful to be alive and not ghost touched or stranded in the middle of London that the weirdness of the situation hadn’t fully caught up to you until now. Once dried you put on the clothes Lockwood had given you and laughed slightly at your reflection. Despite your figure the clothes still unexpectedly swallowed you. It made sense since Lockwood was so tall, but you found it funny nonetheless.

You returned to find Lockwood sitting on the edge of his bed and stood in front of him awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

“So, um, I’m not a great sleeper so I think I’ll go read in the library for a bit and probably stay there. You can take the bed.” His previous easy confidence was gone, and Lockwood suddenly looked his age again, innocent and awkward.

“Are you sure? I can take a couch or something, I don’t want to intrude.” Lockwood assured you that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon anyway, and he was sure you needed the bed much more than he would. You bade him goodnight shyly, and thanked him for the millionth time before climbing into his bed, ashamed to admit how much you liked the pillow that smelt like him.

However, once it was just you in the dark, all your previous exhaustion had dissolved and you were wide awake, too on edge to sleep. You were in a strangers house on the other side of the city in the middle of the night, you very well may not live to see another day. Logically you knew you were being dramatic, Lockwood and Lucy both seemed lovely and genuine, but then again, so did Ted Bundy.

You felt like you’d been lying in bed for hours when the door creaked open and you inadvertently made eye contact with Lockwood creeping in, looking admittedly adorably soft in his worn pyjamas.

“Sorry,” He said, “I needed an extra blanket. Can’t sleep?” You used the light from the hall to glance at the clock, almost two o’clock. You shook your head softly, feeling almost guilty when he’d given up his bed for you. Lockwood stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly hesitant about something. “Do you, um, do you want me to read to you for a bit? It always worked for me when I was younger.” He sounded sheepish but you thought he was the sweetest person on earth at that moment. You agreed quickly, and he slotted himself in on the other side of the bed.

You huddled in to face him and Lockwood cleared his throat softly. He had continued on from where he’d evidently left off in the library so the plot was a mystery to you, but his soothing voice worked wonders in calming your thoughts, weary eyes closing quickly to send you into a cozy sleep. Lockwood, unbeknownst to you, fell asleep uncharacteristically fast after you, novel left upside down on the nightstand. Despite his usual aversion to sleep, having a warm body and small snores next to him strangely made him want to start getting eight hours a night.

Lucy was assigned to wake Lockwood for breakfast the next morning upon George’s request, and silently sent a prayer before pushing open his door, wary of what she might find. To her surprise (and personal relief) you two were in bed together, but not in the way that she’d dreaded walking in on. You were both totally clothed, your head resting on Lockwood’s chest, his arm around your waist, effectively keeping you burritoed in the blanket. Lockwood’s eyes snapped open, a habit he’d never detested more, and groaned at Lucy’s good humoured snicker when they locked eyes. She shut the door behind her quickly, leaving Lockwood to deal with things on his own.

You woke not long after, feeling Lockwood stirring next to you and his breathing start to become irregular.

“Morning,” He slurred, still half asleep and wanting nothing more than to pay off his sleep debt with you keeping him safely in bed.

“Good morning.” You smiled sweetly, already in a good mood. You bent to collect your clothes off the floor, eyeing your dress with mild disgust — it would be quite the walk of shame home.

“Keep the clothes.” Lockwood gestures casually to your outfit and you shook your head vehemently.

“I can’t, they’re yours!” You protested but he seemed not to care at all.

“I don’t need them, just have them. They look good.” You flushed and dropped the fight, words lost in the vacuum of your brain. You busied yourself with rolling the cuffs a few times so it wasn’t quite as obvious they weren’t yours.

Lockwood led you down to the kitchen, asking you about your plans for the day. You were met with Lucy and one other boy in the kitchen, Lucy sitting at the table already tucking into her meal while the boy was standing by the stove.

“I mean, come on Lockwood, you couldn’t have given me any warning we had a fourth for breakfast? Bloody good thing we had enough eggs or it would’ve been you going hungry!” The boy muttered to himself, apparently unaware of your entry. You locked eyes with Lucy who was holding back her laugh and Lockwood coughed uncomfortably.

“Morning, Georgie,” He smiled an amused grin, practically blinding you in the early morning. George froze as he realised he’d been caught, then doubled down his mood with a glare in Lockwood’s direction but it simply bounced off the charm he oozed and you smiled. You introduced yourself quickly and explained the situation, not wanting to uphold the tension in the room. George wasn’t exactly as warm as Lucy, but then you got the impression that it wasn’t in his nature to be.

Lockwood and Lucy upheld forced small talk as you became nervous in the new environment and George simply had no desire to talk, at least, until Lockwood had the bright idea to get the ball rolling.

“So Georgie, y/n actually studies the Problem. Like, academically.” It was like a switch had flipped and suddenly George had so much to say you were overwhelmed with it all. You tried to explain your research area as best you could while trying to politely ask questions about his own knowledge and make a good impression. Lockwood must have sensed your anxiety as he put a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze under the table, chuckling softly into his eggs.

Your meal passed quickly after that, and you felt strangely at home in the cozy kitchen, amongst three people who were total strangers only hours before. Yet, it had to come to an end at some point, and it was soon time for you to go.

You collected your things, profusely thanking each of them for not only saving you (Lockwood), but also for the ridiculously delicious breakfast (George).

“You really saved my life,” You said, as Lockwood disregarded yet another thanks.

“It’s nothing, you would have done the same. You, uh, you should come around again sometime.” You beamed, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, I have about a thousand more questions for you — not an exaggeration,” George said, and you easily agreed to share more of your research with him.

“Plus, we like seeing Lockwood blush,” Lucy added cheekily, and then it was your turn to blush, forcing your eyes down to the floor as both George and Lucy laughed at the pair of you, mirror images in your embarrassment.

Although it may have looked like you were making a post-Valentine’s Day walk of shame, you were gleeful. You hadn’t at all imagined your night would turn out as it had, but you’d made new friends — and maybe the start of something more, and managed to avoid being ghost touched which you always counted as a win. You ignored the judgemental looks you received in slept in joggers and club ready heels, and delighted in getting home before your parents arrived back and noticed you were missing.

You locked the door to your apartment behind you and dialled the number Lucy had made you promise to call when you were safe and sound, hanging up with plans for dinner at Portland Row the following week.

You flopped back on your bed and grinned. You were sure you’d see more of Lockwood & Co in the future.

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coffeebeanwriting · 1 year

Text

What Bores a Reader The Most?

I asked my followers to answer the question “what bores you the most when reading a book?”

Please keep in mind that these are all opinions and you’ll find yourself agreeing and disagreeing with some. Personally, I think this is amazing insight into the minds of unique readers all around the globe! I decided to keep reoccurring answers instead of merging them, just so people could see the repeating themes.

“Predictable conflicts or character actions. I want to be surprised.”

“When there’s no clear plot. When it looks like the book is leading nowhere.”

“Endless description. Nothing makes me more prone to skipping ahead.”

“When it feels like what you’re reading lacks purpose and there is no meaningful contribution to the plot.”

“Characters with less personality than a wet paper towel. Main characters with zero personality.”

“When I can’t picture anything in my head or what I understood changes randomly.”

“When a conversation is happening and I can’t follow which character is saying what.”

“Daily routines in a story. Like, I do not care.”

“When the world doesn’t move if the main character doesn’t interact with it. This applies to t.v shows, too.”

“Something that does not have a build up like a sudden relationship out of the blue.”

“When I’m so confused it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

“When there’s a 3 page description of some random object.”

“Wayyyy too much detail.”

“When the big plot twist is revealed and I guessed it ages ago.”

“Too slow or too long.”

“When the author unnecessarily drags the story and takes ages to advance to the climax.”

“Fan service that doesn’t contribute to the plot.”

“Useless descriptions and/or actions.”

“Over description of a landscape (cough old literature cough).”

“No action, no violence. I don’t like when characters talk for too long.”

“Long descriptions.”

“Too much descriptions when you are in a exciting moment. It breaks immersion.”

“Lack of imagery.”

“Constant usage of archaic vocabulary.”

“When the main character is extremely passive and doesn’t act or react.”

“Excessive description that doesn’t further the plot or meaningfully add to characterization.”

“Overly predictable plot, overly crude language for the sake of it, cringe/pompous scenes.”

“Long and boring exposition dumps.”

“Characters that never loose 😴.”

“When the world building starts out great and is really immersive until later on when things don’t add up.”

“When a character has too much internal dialogue.”

“Explaining “the science” behind magic systems in unnecessary detail.”

“Over description. I will skim and skip a lot of it.”

“Too much background info at the beginning.”

“When there’s small talk about a topic I don’t understand. It get’s sooo boring.”

“Too much inner monologue.”

“Slow plot.”

“When it’s just dragging on and on with the backstory.”

“Having to reread a sentence/paragraph a billion times because my brain got distracted.”

“When there’s no action, suspense or something similar for the whole chapter.”

“Things that aren’t relevant to the story.”

“Too much dialogue.”

“A lil too much fantasies.”

“Over drawn setting descriptions.”

“Overly long chapters, repetitive scenes, lots of complicated worldbuilding.”

“When it’s too simple or too detailed.”

“Long, long expositions.”

“Repeating phrases, plots ,etc.”

“Infodumps, especially in the beginning.”

“Too much history.”

“Overly descriptive settings.”

“Slow plot. I need drama!”

“Long chapters.”

“Slow pacing.”

“No major plot twist.”

“Miscommunication trope.”

“Massively long descriptive paragraphs.”

“Too much exposition in the beginning.”

“Long and confusing story building.”

“Repeating plot points. For example: the hero learning to trust his friends a million times without any real progression.”

“Training scenes that show nothing special. Especially sword fighting or head to hand combat.”

“Generic plot developments unless it’s written well.”

“Overuse of complicated words and sentences.”

“Long paragraphs.”

“I’m so over the bubble sunshine and extra grumpy trope.”

“When a character is overthinking.”

“Romanic subplots bore me. Having too many love interests.”

“When it switches between characters/subplots and one of them is awfully boring.”

“When too much information on a character is given one at a time.”

“Clichés.”

“When it takes a long time before the story gets interesting.”

“Long, long, long descriptions particularly of places that aren’t all that important.”

“Descriptions of unnecessary things.”

“Too much side character’s story. They’re a side for a reason.”

“I love beautiful writing so there must be some lovely descriptions... but don’t drone on.”

“Flat characters.”

“Scenes in which my favorite characters do not appear.”

“When the characters have no clear goal or the goal is too weak.”

“If most or all of the characters are unlikable. Then I don’t care what happens to them in the story. Being an evil/mean character is different from being unlikable.”

“When the plot does not move forward.”

“Writing unnecessary, irrelevant things that don’t have an effect on the story.”

“No real plot. The protagonist has no fire to them.”

“When the protagonist needs to figure out a love triangle and which person they like the most.”

“When the interesting parts happen right at the end.”

“When there’s too much info dumping with no easy transitions.”

“No progression after chapters and chapters. Characters not having development.”

“Too much description and a slow start to the story.”

“When characters are too oblivious to something.”

“Oblivious main characters, lazy plots, stereotypical encounters, main character is a god trope.”

“Unnecessarily long amounts of monologue or dialogue.”

“The second chance trope bores me.”

“Slow beginnings... like, get to the action in 3 chapters of less please.”

“Chapters being too long with small writing.”

“If the characters go through the same conflict over and over again.”

“Classic books... I don’t understand a thing, haha.”

“Being bombarded with unnecessary detail.”

“Bad boy meets good girl trope bores me.”

“Too much landscape descriptions like Tolkien or Stephen King.”

“Bad dialogue, too much excessive background details and too many character tags.”

“When the book moves too slowly.”

“Over described scenes or characters.”

“Descriptions without inputs of what a characters is thinking about. I need a lens of character POV to make descriptions interesting to read.”

“A badly written romance subplot where the characters involved don’t have any chemistry whatsoever.”

“I get a bit lost when there’s too much details about an environment.”

“When the story doesn’t go anywhere for a really long time.”

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting

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cherievol6 · 2 years

Text

cabin fever

ino dublin was the first show but pretend it wasn’t for this xo it’s like half edited cause I’m hungover lmao enjoy

tour is pretty tiring and it turns harry into a grump

word count: around 2.6k

warnings: swearing, little bit of angst but fluff at the end xo

"Are you wearing all of this tonight?" Harry's tone is slightly abrasive as he passionately points to your clothes strewn on the bed. He was obviously being sarcastic, the furrowed brows making you believe that he's pissed off. You sigh from your place in the bathroom, closing your eyes as your rub in your cleanser, trying your best to will away your curt response.

"I'll move it in a minute." You grumble.

"Oh, so you're not? I was just wondering, y'know, cause it's all dumped on the bed that I'm trying to make." He mumbling to himself sarcastically and you feel your patience wear thin. The night in the hotel after a day of travelling meant you, of course, slept badly again, and it wasn't helping that your new contraception was messing with your hormones. All around you felt - irritated, and had a feeling it wasn't going to shake all day.

You don't respond, slinking back into the room cockily grabbing the clothes, shoving them into your suitcase without a word and pulling out a bikini, since Harry insisted that the two of you go for a swim in the freezing cold sea, when you just wanted to do a bit of sight seeing. You'd grumbled about it last night when he suggested it, so he went in a mood and said he'd go on his own. His alarm...that stupid fucking alarm, woke you up at the crack of dawn, however. So you didn't really have much choice.

"At least pretend you wanna be here." He jabs once you're at the rocky beach a few miles out, removing his clothes before slipping into the cold water in pink swimming trunks, teeth bared at the temperature.

"Sorry I don't want to go fucking swimming when I'm exhausted, Harry." You hiss, rolling your eyes as you strip down and follow him into the water. He's doing breast strokes around in the water and you just stay stationary, shivering from the cold you've never felt before.

"Don't you think I'm tired too?" He finally responds as he sidles up to you, running a hand of water over his face. "C'mon, it'll wake you up."

"Could we not have had coffee instead, like regular humans? You don't want to get poorly from this, it's too cold." You sigh, and he makes a face.

"Anything else you wanna complain about?" He shakes his head and when you give a scoff, he swims away and leaves your scowl to etch even further into your forehead. You send a splash of water his way and he just ignores you, wading under the water.

You're out in a flash then, not bothering to spend any longer in the freezing cold. Harry was freakish with these things, his body could take these kinds of conditions; yours could not.

Pulling a towel over your shoulders, you sit down on a random bench up on the pier, to observe Harry's head bob in and out of the water.

A phone camera click drags you out of your dark cloud of a mood and you look to the side, seeing a group of younger people starting to gather in numbers, mumbling quietly and looking between you and Harry. Another phone click goes and you blow out a breath and bounce your leg, feeling more and more conscious as the time goes on. Harry's sixth sense somehow manifests itself and he's clambering out of the water, giving the people around a bashful smile as he towels himself off; a quick nod of his head towards the pier walk makes you rise from your feet, copying his actions of giving the group a small smile. You didn't mind meeting his fans, and nine times out of ten they were really lovely, and just interested in a chat. On the off occasion though, it spiked your anxiety severely, and now more than ever given you're wearing a bikini.

"I hope they don't post those pictures." You mumble once you're out of earshot, walking unconsciously closer to Harry out of nervousness that they're following the direction you walk in.

"You know they will." Is all he says, adjusting the Pleasing bag higher on to his shoulder and traipsing back to the car idling for you both. Your chest tightens slightly but you don't mention it, not wanting to bother him more with your 'complaining', especially after his earlier comment. Your shoulders roll back and you sigh, attempting to shake off your bad mood.

"You're creasing your shoes. Lambert won't be too happy about that after he stuck his neck out for the limited editions." You half laugh as you point to the backs of Harry's trainers. He scoffs, flailing his arms in defeat, making the smidgen of humour you tried to insert into the conversation disappear immediately.

"Fuckin' hell. Anything else? Been here for half an hour and you're already nagging m'ear off."

The irritation you felt this morning bubbles up to a point of anger and you wrap the towel tighter around yourself, feeling shivery as you pick up your walking speed.

"I'll just shut the fuck up, shall I?" You snap, moving ahead of him. He goes quiet for a minute before letting out a quiet puff of air, like he's blown out his lips before releasing it.

The car ride back to the hotel is silent aside from a few grumbles from Harry when someone cuts his driver off and it jerks the car, and you can feel a pulsing headache beginning to fester behind your temples, your sinuses beginning to feel achey and stuffy by the time you're stripping off in the bathroom to get a shower. The scalding water does a good job at quelling the feeling but it still doesn't shake your bad mood, and you find yourself clambering back into the made bed whilst Harry's off on a walk with Jeff, drifting soundly into much needed sleep before the concert.

You wake to the sound of clattering and open your eyes, seeing Harry bent over his suitcase holding a small pink wash bag you remember buying for him so he'd stop using yours. He's dumping stuff into it with a frown of his face and you clear your phlegmy throat.

"What are y'doing?" Your voice is croaky as you watch him through sleep-filled eyes. He starts, glancing back at you before lifting from his knees, grabbing his tote bag.

"M'gonna get ready early at the venue. I need a bit of space." His voice is quiet and your heart leaps into your throat. You sit-up, rubbing your eyes with your knuckle. Your whole body aches and you try to will away the feeling.

"Space? Don't go." Your voice is small akin to his. You knew that the bickering was a bit excessive today, but it wasn't really a regular occurrence for the two of you, just when you both were emotionally and physically exhausted.

"It's only for today. I think we've both just got a bit of cabin fever, and I fancy a bit of alone time." Although his words sadden you, you can't help but agree. You love Harry's presence, and find yourself lucky to be able to spend his most memorable moments of his tour by his side; but sometimes the bed felt a bit too warm with the two of you, and the bathroom got a bit cramped when you were both getting ready, and Harry was leaving milk pods everywhere from his coffee or you weren't throwing away used makeup wipes.

"Okay. So I'll see you after?" You will away a sneeze before you say it, rubbing your hands up your sore arms and making a mental note to take some painkillers.

His eyes soften but his nod is stiff, him walking over to place a chaste kiss to your head before slipping out of the hotel room. And although it's upsetting that he didn't want to be around you, you do feel the irritation waver once the room falls silent.

"Are you okay? You're a bit shivery, babe." Harry Lambert has to shout over the noise of the crowd as he observes you with his concerned eyes, but your gaze stays trained on Harry sprinting around the stage. You shrug and he places a hand on the back of your neck, hissing and moving it to your forehead.

"Shit, you've got a bit of a temperature. How are you feeling?"

"Not great, to be honest." The blocked nose was impending the minute you climbed into that cold water in the morning, and it finally manifested itself after you roused properly from your nap, feeling like you'd been dragged across concrete.

"Oh, you shouldn't have come, hun. Does Harry know?" Glenne rubs your shoulder gently and cranes her neck around to find Jeff. You sniffle, shaking your head and wrapping your coat tighter around your body. If someone saw you they'd probably think you looked ridiculous, given the common knowledge that backstage got very stuffy very quickly from the equipment and the commotion, but your fever was making you shiver like you're in the Arctic.

"We went swimming this morning in the sea. It was so cold. I think I'm just quite run down, and being too cold this morning worsened it." Lambert nods and ushers you out of the wing of the stage and back to Harry's dressing room, putting you under strict instruction to wait there.

The show only had 20 minutes left, so you figured it wasn't worth carting back off to the hotel when Harry would be following shortly after, so you hunker down and whip off your own coat, wrapping yourself in Harry's big puffer and falling sound asleep on the sofa.

Chattering and cheering outside the door shortly later filters into your ears as you sleep, and it rouses you quickly, a cold sweat on your brow swept away by someone's hand.

"Hey, are you okay?" A soft voice speaks and you peel open your eyes, Harry's rapidly falling chest and the glisten of sweat of his neck comes into vision. He's still wearing his stage clothes, as if he ran straight to find you. His face reads nothing but worry and you feel the anger from before dissipating quickly.

"Hey." You croak, attempting to clear the phlegm from your throat. He frowns, brushing your hair back with his fingers pursing his lips.

"I didn't know you weren't feeling well, baby. Lambert said you looked really ropey and had to come and sit down." Your eyes close as he rakes his fingers through your hair.

"Hm. I think I'm a bit rundown, to be honest, H. Must have caught a cold or something." You barely manage the words out with your dry throat and he takes note of this, manoeuvring to grab you a bottle from the mini fridge.

"I'm too hot, can you take this off me? I'm too sore to move." You gesture to his large puffer coat draped over your body and he grabs it quickly. A small smile is on his face at the thought of you grabbing his coat for comfort, rather than your own.

"Shit. I bet the swimming didn't help this morning." He sighs, raking a hand through his hair with the guiltiest look on his face, "and you were worried about me getting ill, yet I dragged you in there without even thinking."

You don't say anything as you swig from the bottle, shrugging.

"S'not like you dragged me in by my hair, or something." You attempt to joke, but you grimace at the aches coursing through your body. He grabs the palm of your hand and plants a kiss there.

"No, but I definitely guilted you in."

You repeat a swig of water to avoid saying anything snarky. He huffs and plants himself down on the sofa, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders.

"I'm sorry I was such an arsehole earlier." You lift your eyebrows sarcastically and he fights a laugh.

"You really-" you pause to sneeze and Harry leans away, "sorry- you really pissed me off before. We need to stop going for each others' throats when we're tired, I don't like arguing with you."

"Bless you, And- you think I like arguing with you? Of course not. I just felt very crabby this morning, I'm sorry again." He looks genuinely guilty, and you're fully aware that the way you were both acting in the morning wasn't a true reflection of either of you. Plus, the cold is draining your body of energy, so you don't have the patience nor the desire to carry on bickering.

"I understand you're just a bit burnt out. It's okay."

He smiles, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. You lean on to his shoulder and fight sleep until he drags you out of the state.

"Baby?" You hum and he cups your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek, "I'm gonna take you back to the hotel, okay? Get you a nice bath, beautiful."

"That sounds nice." You say softly, gazing at him through your half hooded lids. He smiles slightly and provides many forehead kisses until you're in his car, and lets you lean on his shoulder the entire drive back, drawing you a cool bath (as to not aggravate your fever) as you peel the clothes from your body that once were curing your chill and were now starting to make your body temperature skyrocket.

"Want me to stay?" He mumbles, hands fiddling with yours. You nod and lull your head against the porcelain to look at his face.

"Let's promise not to fight too much on this tour. Don't want to end up strangling the world's favourite rockstar." Your voice is sleepy from the intense calmness that takes over your body from the stroking of Harry's fingers against yours and the lapping of the bath water.

He laughs loudly at that, but quickly quietens down when he sees your wince from the echo.

"Next time I'm a prick, I give you full permission."

"Mm, noted. Can I have a kiss?" You mumble. He leans forward but hesitates.

"You've got the leurgy." His head hovers over the bath water to reach your face and you frown, because although you're fully aware that he needs to avoid getting poorly for his shows, you're ill and still feeling slightly needy. Out of spite, you lift your palm quickly and flick the water over his face and hair, making his jaw lower in shock.

"That was out of line."

"You gonna carry on complaining? The water's nowhere near as cold as it was this morning." Your eyebrow raises and his face goes white as a sheet.

"Okay. Maybe I deserved that one."

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ideas-scattered-dreams · 4 months

Text

/ / Past that blinds

Fandom: twisted wonderland

AU: GN! General reader + Small malleus x reader.

Warning: alot of occ? its been a long time so yeah. long.

Imagine that....

This wasnt suppose to happen, it was suppose to be another mishap that grim and the Aduce duo made, and fixed easily. Yet why did the past resurrect and the present to future disappear.

"i got this prefect, you are such a worry wart. i have learnt my lesson and this potion will be perfect!" Ace boasted as he began to put random ingredients in the caldron as he mixed it all.

you stared at him with an unsure expression as you frowned. "ace.. i think u should stop. the color looks... weird." ace looked at you as he shrugged. beside you both, was grim and deuce. they were aswell making random ingredients that looked similar to the ingredients on the book they had and hurriedly mixed it all.

"nyehahaha we're petty good at this." grim smirked as he dumped another ingredient in. deuce was mixing it in a minimum pace as he nodded. suddenly the fire lit harsh as deuce was was burnt, making him let go of the handle that hit grim.

grim jumped hastily making the caldron tilt.

noticing the incident. You pulled ace back, grabbing him by the waist and turning around, shielding him from the two caldrons clashing as all hell broke lose.

Professor Crewel yelled amidst in the rising fog that was made by the caldrons. the surrounding students fled, as, duce and grim searched for the both of you in the fog.

"prefect! Ace! where are you!" as the fog began to disappear, both ace and your figure finally seen. Deuce was about to yell out, both but was stopped, when a Gun was pressed onto his forehead, he froze, not daring to utter a word.

You were coldly pressing the gun harshly on deuce's forehead as you held the unconscious ace in your arms. your eyes not holding any warmth nor sympathy, to the one you're holding at gun point.

Professor crewel stood tall as he looked at you, voice holding utmost authority. "pup. i demand you to stop and let those two go." he still hasn't figured out why you had a gun but he knew, something wrong had happened behind the mist.

You furrowed your brows as you looked at the professor, "and who might you be? are you one of those (enemy name)? ha. you'd think i'd follow one foes words." as the professor was about to reject. you dashed forward making him lose his balanced stepping back.

you hit his pressure points making him unconscious. standing in front, you looked at the blue haired boy that was kneeling down, looking at the unconscious professor , he stared at you as you began to walk toward him.

"boy. i do not know why i am here. but i'll make you sure you spit every last information that you know." without another word, you grabbed the shocked boy and lifted him up, putting him ontop of your shoulder.

You walked out of the room as you roamed in the empty hallway, with the directions and half tour from the boy on your shoulder, until you encountered a tall, horned male and his attendants.

A tall man, with horns filled your vision as you stared at the male across the hallway. A shorter male with purple and black hair peeked behind the male that stopped as he chuckled.

"fufufu hey there prefect! and... deuce?" the short male looked perplexed as he stared at the boy on top of your shoulder and your bowed and unmoving form. The clothes you wore... it... reminded him about the battlefield.

"child of man..." the horned male looked at you with a hint of worry in his eyes. You lifted your head up as you stared into the eyes of the horned male, gaze filled with hostile intent.

the short male extended an arm Infront of the taller male as he looked at you with wariness, the green haired and silver haired males following shortly.

"You.. you have such an intense aura. a terrifying lightning... and you.. the shorter one. i feel a sense of the bloody battle between the world... and two flames beside. " you took a stance. Your free hand reached behind you, holding a gun.

aiming the gun towards the group... and shot.

though before the shot reached its target, the gun was kicked away by the boy on your shoulder using his legs.

"Lilia senpai! Draconia senpai! watch out! the prefect isn't in their right mind right now!" the boy yelled out a warning while trying to wriggle himself fee. but your firm grip was like iron.

Your face turned into a scowl, teeth gritting. "you fool! you all are those damn (enemy name)! impudent bastards!" you suddenly threw deuce at the group, making him fly with great speed.

yelling in surprise, deuce was caught by the green haired boy with a groan, they both collapsed.

"this place is big. i get it. hundreds of glass that could shatter and extraordinary walls, if i cant leave. i'd rather fight until my last breath." You grabbed your gun as you began shooting towards the group.

with fast reflexes, the purple haired male created a barrier using his pen? deflecting all the bullets, continuing until the group shielded themselves behind a wall.

"hiding? how cliche!" before you began your rounds again. you felt a sudden pain behind your neck , knocking the air out of your lungs, the sudden weakness made you kneel as you coughed.

"who-" the one who made you go to your knees was a male with a crow mask. with a companion of a cat on his shoulder and a red head behind.

"prefect. we will have a long talk after this." after his words was spatted out of his mouth, you finally lose consciousness.

After a few hours, you finally regained your conscious back, looking around the room with wariness, you were laid in a... clinic? you noticed you were handcuffed, yet the handcuffs didn't feel like normal ones... well to your observation and intense glaring at the unbreakable thing.

a faint cough was heard beside you, glancing and still glaring... it was the colorful duo and... raccoon, cat, lion, fire whatever animal besides them.

you were about to open your mouth the red hair spoke with irritation and a hint of worry. "the heck is up with you prefect! are you still mad because of the incident? it was... honestly an accident!" the red haired shouted. "and you almost shot us all with that gun of yours! Where did you even get that? especially trying to hurt the others AND draconia senpai?! the horrid!!"

as the red hair kept scolding you, the blue haired one looked at you with a frown, holding the red haired shoulder to stop himself from continuing. "ace... that's enough." the blue hair known now as deuce reasoned as the red hair, ace, finally shut up.

"i don't think that is the prefect anymore." suddenly the very same man that knocked you out, walked in the room, smiling. "that's right spade! that isn't the prefect you know!"

the sudden entrance startled the trio as the masked man walked infront of you. "this one is actually the past! prefect. it seems the potion you four made mixed, made a potion that makes one go back to the past."

he looked at you amused. "and our dear prefect was hit by that simple potion and this happened" you glared at the masked man as you tsked.

"is the potion gonna last long or?"

"it will last for a few hours, luckily the potion wasn't that strong. so worry not!" the trio exhaled with relief.

after the headmaster walked out the room, you remained silent, silently absorbing all the information that came out of his mouth. so it seems this is the... future? and what you are now is... the past. huh... how... infuriating.

did the war ended? did everything finally get resolved? has peace finally been achieved? comrades and those who sacrificed themselves... has...

"prefect?" you lifted your head up, seeing the trio infront of you. "hey. you aren't... you know, the prefect we know now, but it's fine, we'll definitely make you remember! because you're still the prefect we know, just different outfits and personality, but that's all!" ace smirked as the raccoon and deuce nodded behind him.

you felt. touched. touched of idiotic mess. though, it reminded you of your comrades. even though you were from the "past", there was hint of familiarity that you couldn't ignore. so. you let your gut feeling control you.

you simply nodded as the trio smiled.

the trio led you all around campus, the cat not raccoon anymore after alot of arguments was on your shoulder as they ate their tuna can that you bought with a golden coin, that was in your pocket for no reason (i think you have hundreds of tuna cans after but we dont talk about that)

you were silent the whole tour while the trio bickered and gave some small information about the destination, until the four of you encountered the same male that you met and almost shot.

he was towering all four of you as the others silently hid behind your back. "hey hornton" grim casually greeting the male, though it seems that it was unheard of as the male was only focusing on you.

"hey! prefect! you should apologize to him! you did almost shot him a few hours ago." you remained silent as the horned male looked at you like a... kicked puppy? it was a bit... laughable, though, cute.

you approach the male as you awkwardly stood in front of him. was he this tall??? "i'm... im sorry about what happened awhile ago. well i don't think an apology would suffice... how about i invite you for dinner?"

the horned male was silent, but then a small smile appeared and a deep chuckle. "Your invitation is alluring. i shall accept" A sudden nervous beat of your heart and a slight blush at the tip for your ear emerged.

why were you suddenly feeling like this? agh, everything has been weird since you appeared here. you faked a cough and nodded. the trio looked at the both of you with a snicker on their face.

"shouldn't we tell them that... they and draconia senpai are?"

"nahhh let them figure it out. i do wanna see their reaction when the potion wears off."

#➥🌙dreamer.ideas #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia x reader #twst #twisted wonderland x gn reader #twisted wonderland x female reader #malleus draconia

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squirrelwithatophat · 1 year

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Anders and the Blooming Rose

It’s a fairly minor part of his character, but I find it hilarious that Anders, "The Healer” of Darktown, really does not like the local brothel. If you take him with you while purchasing “services” from Madame Lusine, you get this reaction...

“You’re not this desperate, I hope. I treat a lot of these customers in my clinic.”

Then if you ignore the warning and do it anyways (you know, because Hawke)…

Anders: rivalry +5

It’s not a moral condemnation, a complaint about wasting time (à la Beth or Carver), or a vague expression of disgust (of the sort Fenris or Merrill reply with) — Anders, the closest in-universe equivalent to a doctor, is warning the player-character away from soliciting prostitutes on health grounds.

One interesting aspect of Dragon Age II is that it contains many more specific references to disease — which makes sense, given the medieval urban setting, where the top causes of mortality would realistically be infectious disease. Gamlen explicitly refers to his parents dying of “cholera,” a highly lethal (even today, untreated cholera has a case fatality rate of up to 50%) water-borne illness, and the water supply in Lowtown is described as dangerously contaminated (Hawke can refuse to drink it “even on a dare,” Merrill refers to something “twitching” in the water even after boiling it). A random NPC asking Lirene about “The Healer” complains, “I can't get my brother off the boat. The grippe's [i.e., the flu] got him bad.” Then there are the multiple references to unspecified STIs, all of which come from (or at least are associated with) Anders.

There’s an amusing line from Anders upon entering the Blooming Rose for the first time (usually but not necessarily during Enemies Among Us in Act 1):

“If someone tries to hire me again, I’m leaving.”

Now, some fans seem to read this as a claim that the Blooming Rose has tried to hire him as a sex worker, but I believe there’s a more plausible interpretation here. (Frankly, I have difficulty imagining that a brothel would be obsessed to the point of harassment with recruiting as their newest rent boy a man in his mid-30’s — and one who, need I remind you, lives in a mine shaft connected to a sewer and notorious for its toxic fumes, dumping of rotting corpses, and disease outbreaks. And no offense to any Andersmancer reading this, but is he really that good-looking?).

Most likely, the brothel is looking to hire an in-house physician (or Thedosian equivalent). Anders is referred to curing STIs and providing other reproductive care. In introducing him, Lirene says, “He's closed their wounds, delivered their children.” One of patients in her shop can be heard crying out, “My mother's in labor! The baby's come early. Can anyone help her?” To which Lirene replies, “I'll send word to the healer.” (Anders may have been delivering babies back in the Circle as well, considering that in MoTA, he says, “At the Circle, any accidental babies are taken away before the mother even sees them.” This could, however, simply be common knowledge among Circle mages). It’s also implied by Wynne that Circle mages practice contraception: “Such births [in the Circle] are seldom, as there are ways to prevent it, but it does happen.” Moreover, Anders appears to be the only person in Kirkwall willing and able to provide these medical services. There are references to useless quacks (e.g., “some purveyor of hensbane and leeches”), but it’s acknowledged in-universe that the only effective healing comes from mages. In DAI, the Inquisitor can express surprise at the presence of a “mundane” (non-mage) surgeon, who goes on to insist that such non-magical methods will be developed in the future, all of which further reinforces the (in-universe) social/cultural equation of healer as mage. Mage healers only appear to be let out of the Circle on rare occasions to treat members of the nobility, but ordinary people don’t receive such consideration. Even the viscount’s seneschal has to seek out Anders for help. In DAI, Cullen casually moons the idea of “healers’ clinics with templar support” (among other potential “opportunities to work outside the Circle”) as a totally novel solution to mage “resentment” over confinement. The Chantry thus far wasn’t willing to release mages to treat sick commoners even with phylacteries to deter escapes and Templar overseers breathing down their necks the entire time; in fact, they were rather reluctant to let out even a handful of senior mages to fight alongside the king against the Blight, something which threatened everyone’s lives fairly equally (and even then couldn’t resist the temptation to make the mages feel as unwelcome as possible). “The Healer of Darktown” was well-known to illicitly (that is, in defiance of Chantry restrictions) provide health care for free to the masses, and this service not surprisingly had earned him quite the number of admirers and defenders. Lirene resists being threatened for information about him by saying, “Any Fereldan in the city would lay down his life for the healer, after what he's done for us,” and a mob of Ferelden refugees even prepare to attack the heavily-armed party out of fear that the latter might harm him or report him to the Templars. His Act 2 Codex likewise reads: “When not with the Champion, he spends his time among the Fereldan refugees in Darktown, healing their ills and counting on their loyalty to protect him from curious templars.” Should it be a surprise then that a private business might be interested in his skills, especially when disease is threatening their bottom line and injuring customers?

In the game, we actually see two frequent patrons of the Blooming Rose end up in Anders’s clinic for treatment.

Dissent (Act 2), if Isabela has been left behind:

Anders: ...don't come running to me next time you pick up one of these diseases.

Isabela: Isn't that the point of magic?

Hawke: I don't want to know.

Dissent (Act 2), if Isabela is in the party:

Seneschal Bran: And that will, ah, stop the itch?

Anders: Yes. Though I would stay away from women you meet in the port. Pirates tend to... dock in unsavory places.

Isabela: I heard that!

Anders: Just use the salve if it comes back.

This is probably also what Isabela is referring to in the opening to Speak to Fenris (Act 2):

Isabela: So the seneschal's tax collector won't be coming around again, like you asked. Funny story.

Fenris: I'll pass, but thank you for the help.

Isabela: Spoilsport.

Seneschal Bran appears to be a regular with a particular fondness for Serendipity, a drag queen (or transfemme?) and one of the highest-paid workers at the Blooming Rose, whose gender nonconformity is generally Played for Laughs. Bran can be seen on a “date” with her at Duke Prosper’s party during Mark of the Assassin, and Serendipity can later be heard commenting, “I haven't seen the seneschal much lately. Don't tell me the man's gone religious” (to which someone responds, “No, he just keeps terrible hours now”).

Isabela, of course, talks about sex and her enjoyment of brothels (including the Blooming Rose) quite frequently. In Dragon Age Origins, we meet her dueling two men at The Pearl (Denerim’s main brothel), and she can (in)famously be talked into a threesome or foursome with the Warden and their LI, although in that game it was unclear whether she was hiring prostitutes or simply ended up there in the course of searching for dueling partners (given that the building had been occupied by mercenaries, and one of the optional quests in Denerim is to clear The Pearl of disruptive mercenaries on behalf of the city guard) or following/checking on her crewmen. In DA2, it is confirmed that she was going to The Pearl for sex, and Anders remarks, “You used to really like that girl with the griffon tattoos, right?” to which Isabela replies with the name “The Lay Warden.”

(For now, I’ll just ignore the unfortunate implications of Bioware depicting a promiscuous black woman repeatedly contracting STIs and unrepentantly spreading them to white men for blackmail purposes. But yeah, yikes).

Historically, the emergence of STIs as a major social problem has been associated with urbanization and military mobilizations — basically, situations in which large numbers of individuals had opportunities for unprotected sex, especially with multiple partners, away from the usual social control mechanisms such as cockblocking parents (and virtually all sex was unprotected until latex condoms began to be mass-produced in the 1920s-30s). Without the safety measures we have in place in licensed brothels today (e.g., condom requirements, regular STI testing), brothels and red light districts were superspreader bonanzas, and perhaps unsurprisingly, medical professionals tended to take a rather dim view of them, to put it mildly. Modern readers often historical interpret opposition to brothels and camp followers (in the military) on the part of medical and public health authorities as expressions of prudery, religious conservatism, and/or misogyny, and to be frank, they very often were. Yet at the same time, in the pre-condom and pre-antibiotic era, STIs represented a major public health burden and cause of disability, disfigurement, infertility, and premature death, and there few practical measures beyond simply urging everyone to keep their pants on (which worked about as well as one might expect).

Circling back to Anders, it's notable that he takes a much more negative view of sex in the second game than in Awakening, during which he seemed eager to hump anything that moved. This could at least in part reflect the influence of Justice, who seems to regard anything other than fighting for justice and engaging in public service to be "selfish" and even slothful (as in demon-y sloth). Or simple aging and maturity. Or, on a meta level, it could be an odd re-characterization due to the change in writer. But I like to think that his newfound discomfort with no-strings-attached boning is an unfortunate side effect of being a charity doctor working into the late hours to accommodate an endless stream of dick wart patients. It's already a shame that his clinic and service for the poor is relegated to such a background element, especially given the role such work would realistically play in forming a person's character. In terms of character development, it would have been interesting to explore how his work in the clinic could itself had a radicalizing effect — after all, it would bring him face-to-face with the tragic consequences of Chantry policy on mundanes (rather than just mages) as well as demonstrate magic’s contribution to the greater good on a daily basis. But this angle unfortunately never comes up in-universe.

TL;DR What I'm actually saying is that the real tragedy of Anders's character arc is the profound decrease in sluttiness between the two games.

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