#Cecilia Proud

[jazzymarie1006]

These three Prouds & their gorgeous hair

[sewerwclf]

saw universe doctor hiring requirements: be cunty and medical malpractice.

[anarkittyy]

Cecilia Gentili 🕊️🕊️

[brynnamonroll]

Cecilia’s Darkest Hour

I had an idea a while ago combining the composition of Georges de la Tour’s Magdalene with the Smoking Flame with Cecilia before Chapter 13 of FE6 when Zephiel’s armies are approaching

[ghostampire]

the mother and her daughters are frauds (who are also psychotic and like girls yea)

[toon-tales]

I know i said this before but I'll say it again

I ship them SO MUCH

They're just a tiny Pelix LOOK AT THEM

(not as kids, maybe when they're older)

[sidesteppostinghours]

nice

[yxlenas]

With Your Fist (For Once): An Edancy Fic by Reysrose

"Who acts from love is greater than who acts from fear" ~ Talmud, Sota or, how Nancy came to live with Eddie and Wayne

Religious trauma, Ted being an asshole, and an ER visit from three perspectives.

Listen to the inspiration here

[armanicaesar]

Lemonade, Folklore, TUN

lemonade

don't hurt yourself (song of all time)

love drought

sorry

formation

pray you catch me

all night

hold up

6 inch

daddy lessons

sandcastles

freedom

forward

folklore

my tears ricochet

hoax

peace

this is me trying

the 1

cardigan

august

epiphany

the lakes

exile

seven

mirrorball

invisble string

mad woman

betty

illicit affairs

the last great american dynasty

thank u next

7 rings (song of all time)

bad idea (GOAT)

in my head

nasa

imagine

make up

bloodline

ghostin

thank u next

fake smile

break up w ur gf i'm bored

needy

send me an album and i’ll put the tracks in order from most → least favourite

[heartplaces]

a bloody good time! 🩸

[jazzymarie1006]

I've just thought of this!

We've seen Kareem interact with the Proud Family.

Oscar's interrupted him and Penny a couple of times as well.

And that had me thinking....

What are Kareem's parents like?

What we know about the father is that he named him after Kareem Abdul-Jabbar because he's his favorite author.

I also noticed the few times Kareem and Oscar interacted in Season 1, he calls him "Sir". Does he often call his own father Sir?

Another thing we know about Kareem's parents is that they're quite strict. Going as far as to put a tracker on his phone.

And this face when Penny suggests that he deals with his parents the way she deals with hers (ignoring them), this face says it ALL!

I would really like to see Penny meeting Kareem's parents and seeing what they think of her.

Would they like her? Would they see her as a bad influence? I don't know! But I wanna know!

[xtinyslip]

"do you already have something in mind?" she wondered. her darkness had become her best friend whilst she'd been trapped in that hellhole. not that she wasn't willing to listen to what he had to suggest, it was surprising he'd say that at all. perhaps, even more surprising that she was as ready to listen to him as she found that she was. "impose? you helped save my life. you're not imposing…" she was used to her father keeping his word but never when it came to anything kind. at least, not when it was relating to her. this was different. deep down she knew it had been everything she'd wanted… perhaps, that was why she wasn't eager to jump head first into what he was offering yet. it seemed to good to be true. "you should stay and help him. i, i would like that." cecilia had heard what he'd said, that he was here to help them both but as long as he helped will? she could accept that. after all, it didn't matter how ugly it had ever gotten. nothing could change that they were family. "good. that's good. a silly woman like her doesn't get to squeeze out the light in him, i'm glad he managed to find a way out." not about to mention the obvious, that he had escaped and hadn't come here. it was just a lot to process, it was an overwhelming fact ; that she didn't know the first thing to do with. "you -- you do? tell me?" cecilia hadn't seen it from that angle, the truth was the second she'd hurt it, she'd taken it personally when she knew that this was NOTHING to do with her. maybe, that was why it hurt… because someone was giving him something that she couldn't possibly. "how can you sound so sure? she's different to him, i can't explain it. i chose not to but you don't think this will be forgiven?" cecilia wanted his opinion and perhaps because she knew he wouldn't lie. her body language hadn't certainly changed since the mention of this topic. she reached forward, acting quickly because she could think herself out of it as she took his hand. that perhaps wasn't a yes or no response that he may have been expecting but she didn't know. yes, she desperately wanted parker here and at the same time ; it was almost as if she was waiting on egg shells. "what she took from us? she doesn't get to simply walk away." @fcrafcrtnight

"PERHAPS WE CAN FIGURE OUT HOW TO USE IT FOR THE BETTER NOW. WOULDN'T YOU SAY?" there had never been a part of him that had imagined that they would be here and having this sort of conversation, but.. perhaps, in a way, he wouldn't have it any other way. would he? there were so many things that he wished to say to her and had not yet been able to but .. maybe, he would BE. one day. was this going to get any easier? he had no idea, but.. maybe. "are you certain? I WOULDN'T WANT TO IMPOSE. I-" nodding and there was even a little smile there. it was sad, for a second, but.. it was there. he wanted to stay. maybe it was selfish and of course that it didn't right any of his wrongs, but.. he did. "that is right. he would and.. he's done enough as it is. it wouldn't be fair to ask him to take on anymore burdens. I ONLY WANT TO HELP.. BOTH OF YOU." he said the last part so quietly that perhaps she wouldn't have heard him at all but it was the truth. he was no pederson, he didn't have the stupid last name but he had them. they were his family, were they not? "from what i have heard, she did not have much of a say in the matter. we both know he is good when it comes to simply.. vanishing. she won't have much luck finding him." because he was hiding from elaine specifically? finn's people had easily found him and.. he was holding on to that information for a little longer. he looked down, not knowing precisely what to do, but.. he didn't want to do just nothing. he found himself reaching forward, placing his hand on top of hers for a brief second. he pulled away almost immediately, but.. it was almost as if to say I'M HERE. and he was, wasn't he? "quite on the contrary. i think you happen to be precisely what he needs. he left her. she kept something this big from him for twenty or so years. THERE'S NO FORGIVENESS FOR THAT. THE TWO OF YOU HAVE BEEN PUT THROUGH HELL AND BACK AND STILL HELD ON TO ONE ANOTHER. THIS DOESN'T HAVE TO CHANGE THAT. in fact, i believe that the only reason why he is not here is because.. he wished to protect you from all of this. say the word. say the word and i will have our people bring him here immediately. it's up to you?" did he feel so responsible about this, in a way, that he was offering to help because of it? yes and no, at the same time. right? maybe yes. "ah, yes. what do you want us to do about her?" @xtinyslip

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

ENJOY THE SILENCE

Lazy mornings with honkai and genshin boys (fem!reader x Diluc, fem!reader x Dan Heng) a bit suggestive in Dan Heng's part GENERAL MASTERLIST

DILUC

Your lover, Diluc Ragnvindr was without a doubt hardworking and responsible man. Running biggest winery in the industry, protecting Mondstadt at nights and still working full-time job as a bartender, he gave you plenty reasons to be proud of him. Unfortunately, his lifestyle came with many downsides, sleep deprivation and shortage of free time he could spend with you being one of them, so when you found your handsome boyfriend lying next to you in bed, you couldn't stop yourself from admiring him, for once so peaceful, so relaxed. You felt like it was ages since he could sleep in like that.

His voluminous hair tickled your nose, he smelled both manly and sweetly at the same time, scent of cecilias he cultivated in his garden mixed with leather and smoke, reminder of dangerous activities he indulged in at night. You shifted closer to him, inhaling this familiar smell. His eyes opened, morning light enhanced golden tones in his hues. When he met your gaze it felt like all the warmth in them poured into your soul, lightening it up like sunlight itself, taking your breath away.

Diluc smiled at you lazily, leaning to kiss you. He tasted like promise of adventure, but his strong arms were like a safe harbor, grounding you and sheltering from all harm.

"I hope I didn't wake you up" you giggled. "You deserve a good rest for once Diluc."

"Don't worry, even if you did, I'd rather enjoy your company then sleep my love. Compared to reality with you every dream is dull." he whispered gently stroking your hair.

You laid your head down on his muscular chest, happy to cuddle your big, strong, loving man for the rest of the morning.

DAN HENG

Your beloved dragon came off as cold and emotionally detached to most people, his reserved nature forged in solitude he lived in for most of this lifetime successfully scared most people off. Yet, there was other side to him, born from isolation he suffered in Xianzhounian prison as well. Hunger for life and experiences he was devoid off for so long, overwhelming need to be free and feed his senses with all things this wast universe can offer, things he knew only from books.

Dan Heng was used to relying on himself, never given a chance to ask for too much or express his emotions freely, so when he was alone with you he tried his best to not seem needy, but it was obvious just how much he craved to be close to you.

He always kissed you a bit too greedily, as if it was the last time he can taste something so sweet, and he never pulled away first. When he caressed your body his fingers dug into your flesh, leaving marks on your fragile skin. Claiming you as his mate. He was touch-starved to the point of pain, skin to skin contact was so foreign to him it almost burned but he couldn't get enough. It was never enough.

Today you and your boyfriend woke up earlier than the rest of the crew. Before going back to your duties in the archieves you decided to take a quick shower together. Dan Heng looked stunning with water dripping down his perfect body, you couldn't take your eyes off his broad chest. He was more comfortable than usually, tracing marks on your skin with his fingertips.

Water washed away your mixed scent from your bodies when your hands massaged shampoo in his scalp. Dan Heng always made sure he does his share of work, both as Astral Express archivist and as your lover. It was a habit of his from time he first escaped from Xianzhou. He used to work for refuge and food in various places, justifying his existence with usefulness. Therefore you were not surprised when he returned the favor soon after you washed his hair.

" Why won't you let me spoil you sometimes?" you asked.

"You spoil me all the time." he calmly spoke up. "You give me all your love and help me become something more than a shadow of my past life by giving me another great reason to live here and now instead of dwelling on my nightmares. I merely return the favor."

Your cheeks flushed.

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to earn my kindness each time." you explained, biting your lip. His hands rubbing your head slowed down a bit.

"Don't worry about that. I like doing things for you, that's my way of showing that I care about you." he sighed. "You keep on telling me I need to learn how to receive affection, but aren't you the same as me?"

You didn't say anything back, instead you just let go and let his hands get lower to massage the knots out of your back, your muscles relaxing under his tender touch.

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you. 

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings. 

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before. 

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia. 

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry. 

 It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of  love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk. 

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her. 

⋆｡ °✩

“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all. 

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare. 

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it. 

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll. 

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father. 

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence. 

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all. 

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it. 

⋆｡ °✩

Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness. 

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.  

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers. 

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two. 

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat. 

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model. 

⋆｡ °✩

It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you. 

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers. 

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns. 

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point. 

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him. 

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat. 

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing. 

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing. 

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap. 

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you. 

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says. 

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise. 

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice. 

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him. 

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother. 

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them. 

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote. 

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed. 

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you. 

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch. 

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room. 

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery. 

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately. 

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while. 

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine. 

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces. 

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles. 

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

⋆｡ °✩

It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them. 

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form. 

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic. 

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out. 

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks. 

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep. 

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby. 

[aestheticaltcow]

Baby-Makin' (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Kinktober 2024

(Divider credit @strangergraphics)

Watching Rhett try to ride a thousand-pound bull always did something to you. You were in the stands with Cecilia and Amy while Royal was talking to him about something. “He’s up next!” Amy cheered excitedly; you shared her sentiment as the announcer introduced Rhett over the speaker. 

When the gates opened and the bull busted through the arena, you watched as it tried to get Rhett off his back. Your gaze moved between Rhett and the clock. You felt nervous as you watched his arm flay about as the bull got angrier and angrier. The clock buzzed when Rhett had finally been thrown off of the bull. You watched as he landed on his shoulder awkwardly. You swallowed, hoping he hadn’t injured himself. “He did it! He won!” Amy cheered, pointing to the scoreboard where ‘Abbott’ appeared next to the number one spot. “Oh my gosh!” you cheered as you looked at the board and then back to Rhett.

As one of the announcers yelled out his victory, Rhett scanned the audience, looking for you. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you standing in the crowd, cheering with his family. As he accepted his title, his eyes didn’t leave you. You smiled and blew him a kiss before mouthing, ‘I’m so proud of you.’ Rhett’s smile got progressively goofier the longer he stared at you. 

The rodeo cleared out, and you found Rhett at the ‘rider’s only’ entrance. “Hey cowboy. You did amazing!” you cooed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Rhett hooked his hands under your thighs and effortlessly lifted you so you could wrap your legs around his hips. You squealed at the suddenness, “Always ride better when you’re watchin’ me, baby.” he grunted.

You giggled at his words and snatched the hat from his head, “I love watchin’ you ride, but maybe… you wanna watch me ride?” you teased, twirling his hair in your fingers. He laughed and moved you to his shoulder, smacking your ass in the process. You giggled and held onto the hat, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Rhett’s truck was one of the last ones in the parking lot that night. He walked up to the passengers door and put you down in it before messing with the bar under the seat to push it back. “You got a condom, baby?” you asked as he climbed on top of you, closing the door behind him. He shook his head and pushed your legs apart, making your skirt pool at your hips. “Then we probably shouldn’t baby.” 

Rhett shook his head, “I think tonight is the night I knock you up baby.” he grunted pushing your panties to the side before pushing his middle finger through your fold collecting the moisture that had began to pool in your panties the second you found him after the rodeo. You moaned at the feeling of his rough fingers rubbing your clit in sharp oblong circles. 

“You’re gonna knock me up tonight?” you swallowed. Rhett nodded as he leaned down to your ear to whisper, “I got to let everyone know who you belong to, princess.”

[xjulixred45x]

I know I have to work on the requests, but I have to get this out of my head because now I have a rediscovered love for Invincible, bear with it.

(SOMETHING LIKE A CONTINUATION OF THIS)

SOME SITUATIONS WITH YANDERE AU MARK GRAYSON/INVINCIBLE

okay, I can definitely see that you two were a couple or at least liked each other before everything went to hell.

and although you were fine with Mark at that time, when he was being convinced to join the Viltrum empire, he was somewhat seeking your approval. although using very vague assumptions, such as "would you accept an alien race if it meant world peace?" "or if that would help with the development of medicine?" You know, like what Nolan wanted to do at the beginning with Mark. and obviously since you didn't have the context you said yes without hesitation, further fueling Mark's crazy ideas.

I may not have made it very clear in the first part, but you and Nolan definitely don't get along. I mean, he's nice to you in a way, but he treats you like a little kid who needs discipline, so he tries to push Mark into that. Not only that, but you also indirectly blame him for the sudden change in Mark's personality, you know that if Nolan hadn't gotten him into that shit, he wouldn't have so much blood on his hands. The Mark you knew wasn't like that. HE WASNT.

The main reason this Mark doesn't feel angry because of your traditional escape attempts or why he's so soft is because of something our Invincible doesn't usually have, and that's his ARROGANCE. This Mark does not believe that you are capable of running away from him, you are not capable of defending yourself from him, you are not capable of harming him and above all you are not capable of HATE HIM, because he sees you as a soft creature, who should be treated as such because you are confused.

He is delusional, SpongeBob and Squidward level of Delusional. You could perfectly tell him that you hate him, that he's the worst thing that happened to you in your life... and he thinks it's reverse psychology.

"fuck you"

"Is that an invitation?😚"

"I hate you"

"I love you too babe🥰"

"If we were trapped on a desert island I wouldn't hesitate for a second to make a raft with your limbs"

"Silly you, I would take you out flying😘"

Do you see what I'm saying? For the same reason, if you end up hurting him, he would be proud that now you can definitely defend yourself from the Revolutionaries who "kidnap you every now and then" (it's you on the run). dang it, if you hurt him probably even NOLAN would compliment you for doing it despite being "so weak" and would completely approve of you.

(I can already imagine you with a wedding dress and a bouquet of knives...you want to throw it at Mark...in the face)

I think the most Mark does to scare you into escape scenarios is to threaten to throw you and not catch you next time, that's the best he goes. He can't stand the idea of leaving you paralyzed because it would be very boring and sad to see only a shell of you.

He wouldn't kill Eve, but he would never hurt you...physically. Did you see that in the end in their universe they manage to imprison him and get rid of Omniman? you totally didn't let go of Fem! Cecil(Cecilia?) all the way to her base and thanking her with all your heart and tears. Cecilia comforted you awkwardly, but she understood that you must have definitely had a hard time with Mark.

Meanwhile, with Mark already locked up, even if the world is a bit messed up, you can breathe easy for the first time in years, you can leave the base without fear of what happens to the people around you, you can eat without a problem, you can CHAT with people! it's magic! It's like you don't even remember anything before Mark! out of pure fear!

Meanwhile, Mark in prison always asks about you AT LEAST once a day, even if they give him proof that you are WELL and HEALTHY, he just doesn't believe it and DEMANDS to see you to prove it, which they obviously deny him and only makes him think that even more. The guy thinks you must be dying of hunger and cold or being eaten by collotes while you live your best life🤣

"MY POOR BABE! She must be so confused and scared without me! How do I know they're not torturing her for information!? She must be so worried because we're not getting home!" and it goes on and on... meanwhile Darling: "happy~ happy~happy~" "OHHHOOOhhOO, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY!"

For now that's all. I hope the Viltrum empire doesn't come to shit on Darling's happiness☠️