#and doing another write-up for each and every one

[captain-huggy-bear]

Morning Sickness

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex in the past, pregnancy, etc.

Summary: Quinn is getting increasingly worried about you as you're sick every morning and every evening, you're adamant that you're fine. Turns out you're right in a way.

Notes: Thanks to the person who sent this idea in :)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It starts around a month after your honeymoon. Every single morning Quinn wakes to the sound of you throwing up and every single night he holds your hair back as you're sick over the toilet.

You pass it off as a bad stomach bug or anxiety, something different every time but Quinn doesn't believe you nor does he like what's happening. He's had many health scares with you; the chest infection that led to you being hospitalised after you nearly passed out at work being a prime example. As a result, he knows better than to assume that when you say you're fine, you're actually fine. Instead he sits with a heavy buzz of anxiety in his chest, a fear that something is seriously wrong but not knowing what and not knowing how best to convince you to get a check up and see the doctor about it. You’re stubborn to a fault. 

It's another one of those evenings where he's happily curled around in bed, blankets tucked in around both of you. You're in his arms, back to his chest, legs twisted together so that any movement jars the other, but you're so used to it at this point that sleeping apart is more difficult and less restful than navigating the tangled mass of limbs that the two of you become each night.

When you try to slip out of his arms he's awake like a shot, blinking through bleary eyes while you push his arms off you so that you can get up. Quinn lets you go, an instant release but he's quick to follow, footsteps padding on the carpet after you towards the bright light of the bathroom. Never once considering rolling over and going back to sleep.

"You okay, baby?" You're leaning over the sink, taking deep breaths, cheeks puffing out as you try your very best to not be sick again, nausea roiling through you. You’re so fed up of being sick, it’s become a routine that’s led to you being careful about what foods you eat in the morning and evening, learning what is the worst to throw up and what’s the least offensive thing to throw up.

All you can do is shake your head frantically before you're rushing to the toilet, knees hitting the floor with a loud thud as you lean over the toilet bowl to be sick. Quinn winces at the sound of your knees impacting tile and he's beside you in an instant, hands reaching for your hair to pull it back and out of your face so you don't have to worry about throwing up in your own hair.

"Oh, baby...just let it out..." A warm, free hand landing on your back, rubbing soothing circles as he feels the way your body jerks with each bout of sickness, your muscles contracting and relaxing each time. 

You’re crying, he can hear it, the way you whimper and whine because this is the worst and you’re fed up with being so violently sick…It only increases his worry because this has been going on for too long and it just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

He stays beside you, holding your hair and rubbing your back until you’re no longer vomiting. When you stop, cheek resting against the toilet seat in exhaustion he’s up and reaching for a glass to fill with water for you.

“Here, baby, have some water…” You take a mouthful only to spit it out in the toilet in an attempt to get the taste of vomit from your mouth, before downing the whole glass. It doesn’t really help much.

“I hate this…” You groan out, feeling silly because it’s not even like you feel ill most of the time, you just keep getting these random bouts of sickness in the mornings and evenings. Quinn shouldn’t be as worried as you know he is…it’s probably all in your head, maybe you’ve created a Pavolvian response to the morning and night time where your body expects to be sick, so you are?

“I know, baby…” Quinn runs a hand over your hair, pushing a few strands out of your face and behind your ear, he’s gentle about it, long fingers gingerly caressing your skin like he’s worried you’ll break, “You need to visit a doctor, baby.”

“It’s probably nothing, Quinn…I’ve just eaten something or have some sort of bug or something…” You don’t want to go to the doctors, you’re certain this will blow over soon, that it’s nothing serious and you hate the idea of taking more time off for it even as your husband looks at you like you might be the most stubborn human being on earth. 

“For weeks?”

“Quinn…” You sigh out his name because you don’t want to argue, because you’re tired. All you want is to go back to bed, curl up in his arms and get what little sleep you can before you have to go to work in the morning.

He must see how tired you are because whatever fight he had seems to leave his body, shoulders slumping, head nodding to himself like he’s made a decision in his mind to put this down for the moment even if he wants to keep going, repeat himself until you give in.

“Okay…okay, let’s get you to bed at least…” He gives up arguing because you’re so tired and have to be up at 6am for work. It’s bad enough you're not feeling well, let alone that you have to still teach like this, adding exhaustion to the mix is just a bad idea. He’ll keep pushing until you go to the doctors, but right now? Right now he can see you're tired and sleep is probably better for you than arguing at 1am. 

Quinn helps you to your feet, your hands resting in his much larger ones while he pulls you up. He keeps both hands on your hips the whole time as the two of you waddle your way back to bed, there’s part of him that worries you might fall or faint on the way back to bed, hands firmly gripping you just in case. 

He curls around you once you're both back under the covers, almost protective like he’s trying to shield you from some unseen threat and you nestle back into him, resting your head on the arm underneath you. 

The early morning throw up session had you completely wiped hours later, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that you felt dizzy as the day went on. Even more so because food was just not enticing you and you had skipped lunch when your sandwich made you feel queasy just looking at it. Each lesson felt harder and harder to teach and your last lesson of the day had your head reeling. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise with how dizzy you felt, how lightheaded you were, that you fainted completely in front of your students. Thankfully, you had felt it coming on, having lowered yourself to the ground mere seconds before it happened.

To give them their dues, your students who could have used that as an opportunity to cause a mess, do whatever they wanted and generally cause chaos, actually tried to help. They were so concerned for you that they got another member of staff to come help, David, your favourite trouble making hockey fan, put his rolled up Canucks hoodie underneath your head and Stacy checked you were still breathing. The fainting spell didn’t last long, within a minute or so you were back to consciousness and trying to sit up, staff and students trying to force you to lay back down. 

It’s Laura, the English teacher next door, who grabs your phone and calls your emergency contact, Quinn…even as you protest and tell her not to bother him, that you’re fine. All your protests go ignored by the forty year old, who had become something of a mentor and parental figure during your time at the school.

“Hi Quinn, sorry, it’s Laura from Y/N’s school?” You can’t quite tell what Quinn says on the other line, but you’re sure it’s along the lines of ‘what’s wrong?’ in a panicked tone because no one ever used your phone. You hate worrying him, he has so much on his shoulders already, so much weight there from the team, the season, his brothers…

“She’s fainted, do you think you could come get her? It’s the end of the school day anyway but I don’t think she should be driving home…thanks, Quinn.” 

You groan at her, tempted to tell her off for calling him against your wishes but you know she means well…you also know there’s absolutely no chance you’re getting away with avoiding the doctors now. In fact you wouldn’t be surprised if he drove you straight to the doctor's office after coming to get you…still, maybe you should see a doctor, what with throwing up all the time…and now fainting? 

Laura won’t even let you get up from your spot on the floor, packing your things away for you, getting your students to chill for the last 10 minutes of the day and waiting until Quinn arrives. You know she’s worried you’ll faint again, but it feels ridiculous, sitting on a cold, dirty classroom floor waiting for your husband to come get you.

“Hey, baby…” The way he stands in the doorway to your classroom when he finally arrives makes you want to cry. It’s like he’s scared you’re going to faint again, a sense of hesitancy and caution in his body language that you hate because Quinn is never like that around you. 

“Please don’t…don’t be scared of me, right now…” You feel like crying, wetness starting to fill your eyes and your voice coming out choked. You’re not even sure why you’re so emotional about him looking like that when Quinn’s always worried about you, it’s not a new development. He cares so he worries. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not scared of you…I’m worried, baby.” He’s crossing the space between you as quickly as possible, crouching down next to you with care, hands reaching for your face gently to rub his fingers across your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“I’m sorry…I don’t mean to be a bother…” Your eyes are so watery that Quinn’s face is a blurry mess, but even then you wouldn’t be able to mistake the serious set of his brow, the way his jaw clenches, how he always takes your concerns and worries seriously.

“Sweet girl, hey…you’re not a bother. You’re never a chore, okay? But I'm going to need you to accept that we need to go to the doctor's now, okay? I’ve already phoned them, they can see us in forty minutes.” You can’t really deny him, he’s been so patient with you, worried, but not pushing you to go to the doctors too much and you know he’s right…something’s not normal right now and you need to get checked out.

“Okay…” The smile he gives you is radiant, relief filled and bright like your answer is enough to make his day. It makes it worth it.

“Atta girl, right, let’s get you up off this floor, okay?” 

You nod at him, reaching for his outstretched hands and letting him grip yours tightly, your wedding rings gleaming and new under the fluorescence of the classroom lights. As Quinn stands he pulls you with him, helping you to your feet and holding you steady when you get a bit of a headrush from the sudden upright position.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, i’m good,” He doesn’t quite look like he believes you, “I promise, i’ll let you know if i’m not.”

He’s got an eye on you the entire way to his car, always watching in case you suddenly faint or trip or take a dive to the ground. You don’t, your dizzy spell has passed and now you just feel emotional and embarrassed about the whole thing. 

As is routine by now Quinn opens the car door for you and buckles your seatbelt, making sure it rests comfortably against you and isn’t digging into you at all. He goes a step further than normal though, reaching into the backseat to grab a blanket he keeps there for when you get cold, laying it over your lap and tucking it under your thighs like he’s worried you’ll get cold on the drive to the doctors. 

Quinn leans forward into the car, pressing a kiss to your forehead gently causing you to close your eyes, letting out a happy sigh. He lingers slightly, hand smoothing down some of your fly away hairs before he shuts the passenger side door and gets into the driver's seat. 

There’s a heavy silence that settles over the two of you while Quinn starts the drive to the doctor’s office. It’s a silence that screams that Quinn has things he wants to say, words he’s holding inside him right now and you wait patiently for him to break. 

It doesn’t take long, a few minutes pass before he’s watching you from the corner of his eye, “You need to start trusting me to handle knowing when something is wrong…” He sighs out at you, and you try not to cut him off, biting on your lip to force yourself to listen until he’s said what he needs to say. “I know you’re scared of being a burden and putting more stress on me, but, baby…I’m your husband. I need to know. I want to know. My job is to support you. I can’t do that if you’re not letting me in…” He reaches a hand across to squeeze your leg, an attempt to reassure you that he’s not mad, but that he wants you to trust him more and you get it…you do. You’ve been so reluctant to put any more stress on him, but here’s Quinn demanding that you do, telling you he wants to know when things aren’t quite right.

“I just…you have all this pressure on you and I don’t want to add to that.”

“Baby, the only stress you’re giving me is when you don’t let me help you…I need you to promise me you’re going to start relying on me more, please?” He can’t take it anymore. The way you try to hide how you’re doing, try to take all that onto yourself so that he doesn't get any of the pressure. You’re the only pressure he wants, fuck hockey, fuck the season, but he needs to know what’s wrong with you so he can fix it, so he can help you.

You reach for his hand on your leg, twisting your fingers in his and holding his hand tight, watching him glance at you out of the corner of his eye, focusing on the road for the most part. 

“I promise.” 

Quinn’s shoulders drop in relief, his need to support and protect you, to look after you already feeling better now that you’ve promised you’ll actually communicate with him properly. He loves you, but your fear of being a burden is his least favourite thing about you. He hates that people have made you feel like you have to minimise yourself, your problems. Hates that you’ve been trained to be so hyper independent and self reliant. 

“Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

You blink at the doctor like she’s insane because the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind that that was a possibility, that maybe you were pregnant.

“Uh, no…”

“Have you been using protection? Is it possible you’re pregnant?” You try to think back to your last period, late, try to think back to the last time Quinn and yourself had unprotected sex…your honeymoon. So over the moon, so giddy the two of you hadn’t really thought about it, forgoing the usual precautions because you were married now so it didn’t seem like such a big deal. 

You look at Quinn, the two of you sharing a look that says you’re both thinking back to your honeymoon, the two weeks of being absolutely feral for each other that you really didn’t think much about the consequences…well, you did, in a sense. Quinn had had a great time considering what you’d look like pregnant with his child, dirty talk filled with comments about getting you pregnant, but it had all been fantasies, silly in the moment dirty talk, neither of you had really considered (rather stupidly perhaps) that it might become a reality. You hadn’t thought…normally it wasn’t that easy for people and you’d always had concerns about fertility in your family in the past so why would it be that easy for you? 

“It’s…it’s possible.”

“Okay, I want you to go take this test and come back when you’re done. I think you might just be experiencing some really bad first trimester morning sickness.” You take the test offered to you, the little pee cup and pipette too, glad that she wasn’t expecting you to pee directly onto the stick…

“Do you want me to wait outside the door?” Quinn asks as you hesitantly get up, not really wanting to go alone, as silly as it was because all you were about to do was pee into a little cup and put some drops onto a pregnancy test, it wasn’t like you were going to do anything crazy. But, you’d never had to take a pregnancy test before, you’d never had to deal with the reality that you might be pregnant and even if it's with your literal husband it’s still kind of scary...

“Yes, please…” He’s reaching for your hand without any hesitation, guiding you out of the examination room and towards the toilets. 

You hesitate before entering, scared to find out the answer, unsure which you want to be true; that you’re pregnant or that there’s something else causing you to be sick and faint. You want kids, both of you have discussed it time and time again, but you always thought it would be planned, that the two of you would be actively trying when you got pregnant. 

“It’ll be okay, y’know? No matter what. If you’re not pregnant we’ll figure out what’s wrong and if you are? That’s a good thing, we wanted kids, baby.” Quinn can see you’re scared, the way you grip the test tighter, how you seem to stop breathing as you stare at the bathroom door. He’s trying to not get his hopes up, to temper some of the excitement he can feel because he really…fuck, he really hopes you’re pregnant, he’s so ready to be a dad, and it would be an added bonus to know you weren’t seriously ill, just dealing with the first trimester. 

“Yeah, just…wasn’t expecting it to potentially be this soon.”

“I know, baby, but it’ll be okay and mom’ll be over the moon.” You smile at the mention of Ellen, how excited she’ll be…heck Jack and Luke would be ecstatic to be uncles, suddenly things didn’t seem quite so scary when you considered the people around you, how supportive they would be.

“Yeah, she’ll probably scream down the phone…” If you’re pregnant goes unsaid but it’s there, the reality that maybe you’re both starting to get your hopes up for something that isn’t going to happen. 

“Okay…I can do this.”

“You’ve got this, baby…it’ll be okay,” He smiles at you one last time before you disappear into the bathroom.

Your hands shake the entire time you’re in there, completing the test and putting it on the side to wait. You pacing a hole into the floor, back and forth, back and forth as the time ticks down on your phone. In that time you start to get excited, nervous, but excited. The initial shock of potentially being pregnant disappearing in favour of thoughts about what it would be like to finally have your first child with Quinn…how he’d teach them to skate, how Luke and Jack would play with them at the lake house in the summer, how Ellen and Jim would be devoted grandparents, how you’d read them books every night and make your own Christmas traditions… Your nerves now centred on that possibility that you weren’t pregnant, that your hopes might be crushed.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look when the time was up, reaching for the door handle to Quinn pacing outside the door. His head shoots up the moment you open it.

“So?” Quinn looks so expectant, lips bitten and red from all his worrying, waiting for an answer. 

“I…I can’t look, can you check it for me?”

“Uh, yeah, course, baby.” You can tell he’s nervous too, but he steps inside the bathroom, locking it behind the two of you for privacy. You point to where the little, but no less life altering, test rests by the sink. 

You watch him walk over, watch the tension in his shoulders, how he looks at the little test, seems to read the marks, and then again, and again like he’s struggling to process it. You know the answer the moment his shoulders relax, the moment he turns to you with tears in his eyes and a wide smile, so wide across his face. He’s practically grinning, vibrant in the way he is after a won game or how he was at your wedding. The sort of vibrant that changes Quinn, his usually understated calmness wiped out in favour of pure unfiltered joy. 

“We’re…we’re having a baby…” Saying it feels unreal at first, that those two little lines can mean so much, that right now, in your tummy is your baby. The perfect mix of the two of you slowly growing into someone amazing, someone he’s so excited to meet. 

“Yeah?” You can feel your own excitement starting, hearing it is making it real, so fucking real. 

“Yeah, baby!” You’re crying, he’s crying, it’s a mess when you come together in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you and lifting you off the floor to spin you around. You’re both crying into each other when his mouth slants over yours for a kiss, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, the other resting gently over your throat.

It’s a kiss that feels monumental, deep and filled with love, so much love that the taste of the salt from your tears does nothing to deter either of you as you cling to each other. The scratch of Quinn’s beard, the silky smoothness of his hair in your fingers, the way you cling to each other, you’ve not felt that happy since your wedding day, since you both finally said I do. It feels like the world has shifted on its axis in the most spectacular of ways and all that worry, all that fear is gone, just like that. 

He’s so fucking relieved, that’s part of it. God, is he excited that you’re pregnant, that he’s going to be a dad, but part of the excitement is relief, that you’re okay, that you’re not seriously ill. You’re just pregnant, just dealing with morning sickness and all the changes associated with growing a baby. 

When you pull apart neither of you go very far, foreheads pressed together, noses nuzzling against each other. His hands still cradle you close to him, his breath warm against your lips.

“We’re going to be parents…you’re going to be a mom…” There’s something about him saying it that makes it feel more real because it feels almost out of body of an experience, to find out you're pregnant when you had no plans to be. 

“Yeah…you’re going to be a dad…”

“Fuck, I love you…” Quinn kisses you again, soft but lingering as a hand comes down to rest against your belly, no sign yet of the bundle of cells that’s growing into a baby, “and I love this little bean too,”

“I love you too, you’re going to be so great, they’re going to love you.”

“They’re going to love us.”

[gf2bellamy]

hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days—the kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all. 

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug. 

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time. 

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment. 

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.” 

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. 

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.” 

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving. 

“It was… good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears. 

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest. 

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together. 

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet. 

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. 

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart. 

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. 

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. 

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?” 

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.” 

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—” 

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?” 

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?” 

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.” 

[sheepispink]

lt simon riley x puppy hybrid!reader in which you're forced into his life and he cant handle it, ignoring your existence until you talk to inanimate objects to make up for it. angst ofc

sorry if this is lowkey bad, my writing has been flopping rn, alsp insp by this (it said mdni so i didnt tag, sorry bro i read the summary and was like woah)

Ghost hated it, hated everything that related to the thought, and he made sure everyone knew that. Still, somehow, he ended up with a pretty little hybrid on his couch when he came home. He didn't think twice before walking straight past you, ignoring how you reached your hand out to greet him and locked himself in the bedroom. “Price, I told you—”

“She’s a rescue, just needs a place to stay for a little while. You’re a lieutenant so you’re technically qualified, it won't be long.”

“I’m not the only lieutenant.”

“You’ll have a budget for food and clothing, just let her stay till I can find another.”

Ghost hangs up right there and then, incredibly pissed by anyone and everyone who decided this was a good idea of any sort. But what he hates more is the way you’re sitting outside his door when he opens it again, wide eyes trying to entice him to your outstretched hand. Though unfortunately for you, he just closes the door again.

For the first week, you tried over and over again. He didn't seem to want to talk to you at all, let alone acknowledge that you were in his house. The only instructions he ever spoke was to not leave the house nor damage anything inside the house. It wasn't like you’d attempt to test either rules on purpose anyway. Instead, you tried to be useful by cleaning up where you could, even if you couldn't help but get distracted by how fun sliding across the freshly mopped floors were. Plus, blanket forts were so fun to make, what do you mean they made more mess? You switched to cooking soon after, attempting to make him breakfast except every time you tried to wake up early, he was always already gone. So, you wake up extra, extra early, finding out he wakes at five and so you wake up at four the next day. You decide on sizzled meat rashers, a fried egg and a toaster waffle because you don't really understand how the oven works. It’s not your fault he has so many funny buttons.

Unfortunately for you, his hearing is almost as good as yours, or perhaps he just never sleeps properly. That’s why he walked in just when you were nodding off in a bowl of cracked eggs, the time too early for a young pup like you, even if you were well into your twenties. He left the house with a slam that day.

After that you stopped trying, noticing it to be clearly obvious that he didn't want anything to do with you in the slightest. He didn't even glance at you, or ask if you wanted to eat anymore. The only reminder that you actually lived here were the remnants of your fur on the fluffy pillow that was your bed, and your name written on your pre-bought meals since he didn't trust you in his kitchen anymore. Questions were left to hang in the air, soft whines echoing around the empty room each night and only the dim TV for company.

Ghost had returned early today, a problem in base had left the place in slight disarray and the task force thought it’d be better if they just packed up for the day, maybe do paperwork at home instead. He clicks open the door, surprised to actually hear noise in the usually silent flat, though he’s already dreading whatever mess you’ve cooked up. As he enters the hallway, the noise becomes clearer, sounding like a voice, your voice, actually. “This is a super secret covert meeting, alright everyone? No one can know!” You squeak, and he’s raising a brow, mind already jumping to conclusions of you being a double agent sent to spy on him. He should’ve known they’d pull a dirty trick like that, especially with how Graves has been acting, there’s bound to be others to follow.

But to infiltrate his own home is something that brings him great anger, making him all the more silent when he sneaks around the house, mind running through potential ways he’ll interrogate the information out of you. He's thinking torture if you end up being a little too problematic, maybe even a shock collar if worst comes to it. It's not like he ever like you much anyway, he's almost glad for every neglect he's caused so far. He saved the entire militar--

A double agent was far too much credit. You were just a silly puppy who was sitting on the sofa opposite a tatty teddy bear, a pillow with a messily drawn paper face stuck to it and one last t-shirt that you had draped over a pillow, the cartoon cat staring back at you. They have mugs in front of them, albeit not full of anything apart from your own mug of tea. “Just kidding, let’s order then we can start.”

You hum, pretending to take a list from the bear though it’s actually those takeaway menus that come through the letterbox. He watches carefully as you pick up one at random, eyes squinting as you attempt and almost fail to read the text. Facilities never bothered with educating their hybrids, only intent in teaching them the arts of being loyal and desirable so they’d get their pay. 

“Men….u? St.. art…eer?” It’s near impossible to understand any of it, and eventually you have to put it down, huffing out a complaint. “Okay fine, i can't read at all.” Frustrated, you pull off the t-shirt, leaving the pillow to fall on the floor. You’ve watched countless videos, only with the help of the voice recognition function on the remote control, and have attempted daily for this whole week. “So what have you guys done this week?”

He notices now that you have the tv displaying an episode from those random TV series, you probably don't even know the name of it. You’re almost attempting to recreate the same scene of the friends sitting around the table, eyes flickering at the TV as you eye how they sit. You mimic a squeaky voice, holding the teddy bear by the scruff as you move its head around. “I went to the park with my handler.”

Somehow your eyes light up despite the fact you had made that up yourself, clapping your hands together. “Wow, I love the park! I wish I could chase the squirrels…” Your expression falters for a second, eyes drooped until you shake your head, moving to puppet the pillow in the middle instead. “I went grocery shopping with mine, and we cooked a meal together.”

You smile again, retracting your hand and placing them on your hips. “A meal together?? Um.. It doesn’t matter what I did. We should do something together, but it has to be something easy.. and not too fun because if we leave a mess Simon will be mad.” He almost feels bad, but it’s not his fault, you will make a mess, and he’s already tired enough as it is. What he hadn't expected was what you’d say next.

“I don't think we’ll be able to do these meetups anymore guys.” You mumble out, frown growing on your lips as you puppeteer the bear. “What, why?”

“I-i think I’ll be getting kicked out soon. Or maybe I should just run away.. Should I? I mean, it’s not a totally bad idea and Simon won't have to deal with me!”

You stare back at the two fake people in front of you, the silence hanging heavy in the air until you reach forward, plucking the paper smiley face off the pillow and sticking on a sad face instead. “I know, I know— running away is bad and I'll only get hurt. What else then?”

The silence is long again and for once Simon can feel the distraught look on your face as you clench the hem of your loose sweater, nose wrinkled. It’s clear you’re not feeling too good, especially if you’ve resorted to talking to your own stuffed animals about running away to make him happier. It’s a pitiful sight to say the least but he can't blame you either, he’s purposefully ignored every single one of your feeble attempts to talk to him. It’s not like it helps that you’ve been cooped in a house for two weeks straight, not able to talk to anyone else. Now that he’s forced to notice, forced to think about it, it’s clear he’s torturing you, in some sick unintentional way. You’re locked away, a prisoner, a ghost— someone no one even knows exists despite how much you cry and beg for a sound to be made. 

The small shuffle of your steps is sad, the way you put everything into position perfectly in case he gets annoyed, not that he’d ever express it anyway– sometimes you wish he just would say something, anything. But he doesn't, and you take the tatty teddy bear, hugging it to your chest. Not even your tail can bring you much warmth, the matted fur rough against your skin as you’ve failed to upkeep it’s maintenance the more miserable you grow. 

You wont stay here for long, you’ll be moved elsewhere and grow older, less ‘desirable’ as you look at your puppy cuteness until you’re finally left on the streets, scavenging bins for food like your parents did. A cycle that only repeats for you.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi Idk if you’re still taking requests but if you are, could you write a Franco x pregnant reader smut? I know he doesn’t have kids and is still quite young but just him with a pregnant woman (early pregnancy), wanting to be careful with her but struggling to hold back… Anyway thanks in advance if you write it otherwise no worries!

home sweet home

tags: smut & fluff, gentle sex, pregnancy/pregnant!reader, cowgirl position, praise & sweet talk, established relationship

a/n: thank you for the lovely request anon! i hope you love it, and if you have anymore requests please send them to me! enjoy!!

miracles were possible, and surprises were at every corner. and franco colapinto was going to be a father by the middle of the year. reserve driver for 2025 with a hopeful future seat, and he was having a child with you. a lot of things were thrown at him before his season season even started.

but he was making due with the time he had. curled up in bed with you, the days were ticking by before the season started. he didn't want to leave with alpine, he wanted to stay at home with you. despite the immense support from your family and his, he was that child's father so he should be around more often.

but that was the price of formula one. fame and glory, a seat on the grid at the expense of missing crucial time with the people he loved. so every second with you, he wanted to stretch out into minutes.

you were only four months along, not even halfway. there was a slope to your middle and franco's hand was gravitated towards it like a magnet. even with you both in bed, a random marvel movie playing on the television, his hand was on your stomach.

"quiet today." he remarked, his voice close to your ear as you remained curled up into one another. his lips grazed the shell of your ear as you shifted a little closer to him.

"i think he's bored by the movie too." you remarked, your hand moved to cover his. the tenderness between you two, he rubbed in small circles and remained pressed up against you. your cheek rested on his shoulder while he held you.

"not one of the best ones." his hand reached to the underside of your pregnant belly and down into the waistband of your sleeping shorts. the soft fabric felt good against the back of his hand as he touched your pussy over your underwear.

you chuckled against his shoulder and splayed your hand out on his chest. you knew that franco had a small kink for your pregnant form. he worshiped you in every language he could speak, made comments about how beautiful you looked and when you were apart he asked for photos of you - clothed photos of you. he just wanted to see your pregnancy glow. he called you his little sun from how bright you looked while carrying his child.

he rubbed his fingers up against your slit and you felt a shudder of want through your core. you couldn't help but be attracted to him as well. how tender he was with you, how sweet he was. it made you almost tear up, but also spiked arousal in you.

"franco."

"tell me no."

"i'll do on better." you pressed up against him further. then pulled his hand out from your short then kissed his knuckles, "how about yes." then reached for his t-shirt and started to pull it off of him.

he chuckled and his hands went to your waistband once more. but instead to pull them off of you. he pressed his forehead against his, only moving away so you could get the shirt over his head. you slowly undressed one another, hands trailed across each other's bodies. it felt right, it felt warm as you were both comfortable in bed together.

kisses were shared along with sweet little moans. the two of you moved together like you had memorized each other's bodies. love flowed between you two. soft 'i love you's and 'you look amazing' as clothes were kicked off the bed. the covers pushed down so give you room to straddle his waist.

you were both a bit young, but the future seemed to bright. you, him and your child together. the little peanut in your belly, the product of the two of you. two pieces of a whole put together to make a child. it was honestly amazing, and while you weren't actively trying. it was a welcomed surprise.

franco helped you get seated on his cock. he placed his hands on your slight swell as you moved slowly. he laid there under you, letting you control the pace. he had to hold back, he could remember all the nights of wild (kinky) sex. but now, it was nothing but tenderness, he had to be. he couldn't risk hurting you.

it was his job to protect you. you were his heart and soul, his family. his hands roamed your belly as you leaned forward to anchor yourself with your hands in the covers. you moved your body slowly and franco was close enough to kiss.

he couldn't help himself, you looked beautiful. everything about you looked perfect, even on your worse days. when you felt sick or tired, when you were grumpy. it didn't matter because franco made a promise the night after your first date to never turn his back on you. when you succeeded, you both did. when he suffered a loss, you were still together. the highs and lows of life only brought you two closed together.

"my love. my sweet, sweet love. look at you, glowing." he chuckled lowly, "more beautiful than ever." his hands splayed across your middle as you slowly took him. the pace made his entire body tingle, "you complete me, you know that, right? my love for you runs deep. from the moment i met you."

you smiled a little it and pushed hair out of his face. he was due for a trim soon, "you're pretty amazing yourself. four months ago after your second chance on the track, bringing those points home. how you made me feel that night."

"barely able to walk out of the hotel room the next morning. and that mark you left on me, my love. caused quite the scandal back home."

you held onto the covers tightly and let out a small moan before you replied, "as if we are not next to married? as if you didn't promise my family that we'd get married after our baby is born. that you'd be a proper family man." your pace marginally increased and franco felt the fire in his core at the feeling of you.

the feeling of the heated intimacy between you two. it was like a tide of warmth though your bodies. almost pressed together, fitted together nicely.

"and i mean it." he replied softly, "mrs. colapinto." he broke into a smile. your traced fingers across the scars on his shoulder. he leaned into your touch. a soft moan left those soft lips as the pleasure coursed through him. eyes half-lidded as his hands roamed your body.

"you flatter me."

"only for you." he said as if he wasn't a total flirt to the press. but he laid it on extra thick around you. the gentle words and soft caresses. the feeling of love through him, it struck him like an arrow.

there was a racing in your heart as you continued to move against him. you moved and let yourself enjoy the feeling, the intimacy between you two. your eyes closed a little as you pressed further into him and let your movements speak for yourself.

"i love you."

"and i love you." you replied softly. the sounds of your love-making filled the bedroom. late afternoon light streamed through the windows, basking you in a glow that only made franco more aroused.

he got you pregnant, he marked you in a way that bound you two together for a long, long time. near forever. but he would never take advantage of that bond, that link between you two. you were his future wife, the love of his life. you were the streaming sunlight through grey clouds, the chirping of birds to signal the coming of spring. you were everything and he loved you.

the pleasure blossomed in your core as you continued your movements. you felt the sweat on your bare back, his large hands on your middle only added to close feeling between you two. you were so close, close in ways you could never be with another.

love, that was all it was. a yearning, deep love. so it wasn't hard that with the pace you moved with and the pleasure that raced through your blood, that you soon climaxed. your eyes squeezed shut as the feeling hit you deeply. your cunt clenched around his cock and franco deeply exhaled, a small moan left his lips.

you rode him through your orgasm and admired the look of him while his pleasure started to reach its peak as well. you felt his hands on your hips as you moved against him. your pace was still gentle, and every curve gave a big jump with your movements. it looked beautiful and aroused franco to the point that the pleasure clouded his mind.

a few more rocks of your hips and he was finishing inside of you. he held onto you closely. your belly pressed against his stomach. you felt so close together, slotted together perfectly. his words were ramblings as the pleasure coursed through him. orgasm burned his blood and it felt amazing. you leaned in once more to kiss him deeply as you slowed your pace to a stop. then you broke the kiss and cupped his face.

the third act of the bland movie paired with the sounds of action, but you were both wrapped up in one another. his arms were wrapped around your waist and he maneuvered you back onto the bed and his face against the top of your belly.

his cheek pressed up against the swell, he felt the dreaminess of post-orgasmic bliss as he relaxed against you. you reached to play with his hair. you both laid together as you caught your breath.

you remarked jokingly, "i'm picking the next movie." and franco chuckled lightly, "i mean it, colapinto! that movie was bad."

he laughed a little louder, joy in his voice as he said, "of course, of course. anything for you, mrs. colapinto. the love of my life." <3

[yoyomomiko]

Headcanon of reader cooking with Sanji?

— SANJI ☆

pairings: sanji x female reader

cw: not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

— (a/n): this is such a cute idea I just HAD to write it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) so sorry of this is too short or boring!! -> m.list

Sanji is an absolute perfectionist in the kitchen, so if you're not experienced, he'll gently guide you. If you are, he'll still lowkey try to take over so that everything comes out perfect.

He loves seeing you in an apron. Bonus points if it's one that he picked for you. If it has ruffles, a cute design or is a bit too big for you so he can tie it snugly around your waist? He's in heaven.

I feel like Sanji would stand behind you while you chop ingredients, hands brushing over yours or gently grazing your hips, praising you for what a good job you are doing.

If you happen to be struggling with anything, Sanji will drop everything to help you. Even if something is burning on the stove, you take priority.

The moment he sees you lick a bit of sauce off your fingers, he's completely gone. He WILL grab your hand and kiss your fingertips, muttering about how even the food tastes better on you.

If you ask him to taste test something, expect him to be overly dramatic about how delicious it is.

When you try to feed him yourself, he melts. It's a special kind of intimacy for him. He'll take your wrist and kiss the inside of it before taking a bite of the food you're offering him.

If you attempt to cook a meal just for him, he will treat it like a 5 star meal. Even if it's something simple. It could have a terrible taste, yet he would still eat every bite with a straight face and praise you anyway.

If you get something on your face, he will chuckle and gently wipe you clean with his thumb.

He will not let you lift heavy pits or trays. "That's my job, love. I can't let your delicate hands get tired."

If you accidentally cut or burn yourself, he will PANIC like you've been mortally wounded. You won't be touching another knife until he's personally bandaged you and kissed it better

If you feed Luffy before Sanji gets to try your food, he will pout for hours, sulking like a child because he was supposed to try it first.

Also, you are NOT ALLOWED to cook for Zoro. No way, nope.

——☆

You stood side by side with Sanji, sleeves rolled up, both focused on preparing tonight's dinner. It was rare for him to let anyone help him in the kitchen, but for you? You were an exception.

"You're doing really good." He chuckled, watching as you sliced the vegetables in front of you. "I might have some competition."

You snickered, concentrating with steady hands. "You say that, yet you've already corrected me three times."

"Can't help it, love. Perfection is key." Sanji grinned, flipping something in the pan effortlessly.

You bumped your shoulder against his on purpose, a smile tugging at your lips. "Or maybe you just like bossing me around."

He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, acting offended. "I would never!"

The two of you worked comfortably, moving around each other easily. When you reached for the flour, Sanji was already handing it to you. When he needed an ingredient, you passed it before he even asked.

At some point, Sanji leaned over your shoulder, watching as you finished chopping up the vegetables. "You know..." He started, voice thoughtful. "I really like cooking with you."

You glanced at him, raising a brow as you smirked. "Yeah?"

He nodded, his eyes softening. "Mhm. Feels... Nice."

A few minutes later, Sanji finished one of the many dishes, holding it up and letting you inspect it. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

You took a bite, pretending to judge it seriously. "Not bad, cook."

Sanji scoffed, laughing. "Not bad?! That's all I get?"

"Maybe you need a little more practice." You replied with a smirk, shrugging.

He huffed, but there was something soft in his expression, his gaze gentle as his eyes scanned your face. "Alright then. Guess I'll have to keep cooking with you until I get it right, hm?"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[blastiebabe]

Hiiii I saw you were open for requests and I liked your writing! if you do Bakugo x reader, can you write Bakugo being with a reader that's very soft? Like, they're kind of quiet, level-headed, mostly unphased by his outbursts, is really kind, etc? <3

stupid paperworks taking you away from me

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader hi anon! thank u for submitting and appreciating my works. here is my take on your request, i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :>>

You are currently sitting on your home office with a lot of paperwork in front of you. Your husband Pro Hero Dynamight's agency has been having a lot of missions lately and it your job to proofread every one of the finished mission papers before sending it to the Hero Public Safety Commission.

The past week has been busy for you and your husband, Katsuki. You see each other every day yet have little time to really spend time together. Still, your husband always makes sure that you are always beside him when he sleeps at night.

Even before your marriage, Katsuki has always been grumpy and easily annoyed about things when he is not having enough rest, and this day might just be one of the days where his bad temper and attitude comes out.

While doing paperworks at your home office, you hear Katsuki coming home. "Love, where are you?"

"In here." You say loud enough for him to hear you through the door. Katsuki comes in wearing collar and tie. The man just got back from the press interview about a villain he apprehended last night.

It was the middle of the day but the both of you are at home, he knew he will be coming home after the interview so yesterday he announced to everyone in his agency that you will be working from home so the two of you can spend the time together, and anyone who disagree with that plan should go straight to hell.

He heads straight at you, lowered himself while waiting for you to look at him and give him his most deserved kiss. "A minute, love." You say as you finish a page of what you were reading.

"Ugh." He grumbled but still not moving from his position as he wait. After reading the current page, you turn it over the next page, place it over your desk and face you husband giving him the kiss he was waiting for.

"You did a great job today as well, my love." You say after the kiss while cupping his cheek.

Katsuki crouched to be able to face you. "Yeah?"

"Mm hmm. You really did; I am so proud of you." You kiss his forehead as you feel a smile forming in his lips.

"That might just be the rest I needed." He says.

You shake your head, "Nah, you need a proper rest. Go clean yourself up and change your clothes."

Katsuki stands straight. "You comin' after me?"

"I'd finish this first then all my time for the rest of the day is yours."

"But—" Katsuki was about to make another deal.

"Go, clean yourself up first." You say sweetly as you stroke the back of his arm softly.

Katsuki glared at you before moving out of the office, muttering words under his breath. You smile about this reaction of his, the Pro Hero sometimes might just be acting like rebellious teenager. You continue your work.

___________

It's already 3 pm, an hour after your husband came home. Just a few papers left, and you'll be done with work. Without raising your head, you feel Katsuki inside the home office, he goes straight to your table, placing a cup of hot coffee above your table and then proceed to sit at the couch. He is currently wearing a plaid pajama and a white shirt.

Katsuki makes himself comfortable on the couch while staring at you. "Thank you." You say without batting an eye on him.

"You're not even looking at me?" Katsuki says obviously offended.

You chuckle. "I just need to finish these so we can spend time together without any problems. Besides, these are for your agency, Pro Hero."

You look at him, smiling. "Thank you, my love."

"Tch, damn paperwork taking you away from me. Am I not worth your attention or what?" He asks.

"Ugh! I feel like you hate me or somethin'." He grumbled again as he is not succeeding on getting your full attention. He goes out of the office stomping his feet.

"Love you!" You shout as he leaves. He did not reply back even though you are sure he heard it. Katsuki is that petty, but you know he is not being unreasonable. He has all the right to demand time and attention from you after a hell of a week working his ass off saving people.

And of course, you want to spend time with him as much he wants to spend time with you. So, the sooner you finish your work, the sooner he can have your full attention. Again, you continue your work.

__________

Finally done with your last paperwork, you head to the kitchen where Katsuki is. You see him wearing his pink apron. His body stiffened as he feels your hands wrapping his waist and your body resting on his back.

"What, you have time for me now?" Katsuki tells you with a sass. Your grip on him tightens as you feel your body recharge holding the man before you.

"Stupid paperworks making you all worked up and tired." Katsuki continues his rants. "Stupid people at the agency giving you that much work when they know you and I are spending today together."

You release your hold of Katsuki as you feel a thirst for water. You head in front of the refrigerator and grab a pitcher of water. Katsuki is almost done with the mapo tofu that he is cooking; he started setting up the table.

You see his eyebrows still meeting and his face still unpleased. "Love..." You call him softly as you grab a glass and drink water.

"What?" He didn't even look at you and continued his outburst. "Stupid employees, tomorrow I'm gonna start firing some incompetent assholes."

You know he will not. You let him say the things he wants to say, you knew he needed to do that whenever he feels strong emotions. Because if he doesn't, he's going to keep it all up alone again and let it bottled inside him, you do not want that happening again.

Years of being in this marriage has made you understand and perfect the way to handle Katsuki's sudden outbursts. He is a man who gets easily worked up and misunderstood by people but at the same time, you know that all these anger inside him roots from his care and compassion for the people he cares about.

Just like in high school when he challenged Izuku on Ground Beta, his anger came from his care and guilt as he blames himself from what happened to All Might. Katsuki is a good man, there is no doubt about that. There are just days when you need to let him feel the negatives, and your job as a wife is to listen and help him remember the positives which has never bothered you anyway.

You sit on your side of the table as he assembles your early dinner. "Love..." You call him again softly. You know he can hear you.

"Katsuki..." You try again, as to get his attention and calm down for a second. You are actually feeling tired from all the paperwork you have been through and just want to spend the day resting with him.

Katsuki looks straight at you and kneels at the side of the dining chair where you were seating. "Shit, Princess, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry." He apologizes completely regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

"Kats-"

"Just shut the fuck up and eat!" Katsuki shouts as he bring a plate in front of you. You are shocked by the tone he used on you. "Shit." He cursed as he was also shocked by himself and what he just told you.

"I... I promise I didn't mean to. I was just- I was- I don't- ugh-" Katsuki stutters through his words obviously overwhelmed by guilt for shouting at you. He runs his hands on his head as he tugs his hair.

You reach for his hands, removed it from his tight hold on his hair, and brings him closer to you as his head rests on your chest, you wrap your hands behind his nape. "Shh, it's okay. I understand, you were frustrated."

He shakes his head in your arms. "No, no, no. Shouting at you is never okay. I'm really sorry, love. I'm sorry." He breaks free from your arms, stands up, grabs a chair and moves it as close as it can be to you.

Katsuki looks at you straight in the eyes. "Princess, never let me speak like that to you ever again." He said, cupping your left cheek with his right hand. "If I ever speak like that to you ever again, you have all the right to smack the shit out of me, okay?"

Suddenly you feel all the sleepless nights and overwork you have done the past week, you let your head fall in Katsuki's shoulder as he catches you in his arms, wrapping his hands at the small of your back.

You nod as you see the genuine concern and love from your husband's eyes.

"You do not deserve to be talked to like that. I'm sorry my princess, I promise I'll be better and make sure that will never happen again."

"You have done a great job this week, my love. I am so proud of you." Katsuki says as one of his hands caress your hair. You feel vulnerable under his touch as he sings compliments into your ear. "You're so capable. You have been working really hard; you deserve rest my love."

Katsuki closes the space in between as his lips met yours. Expressing his apologies, appreciation, and love for you.

You bring your head up, drawing a space between the two of you, enough to look at him in the eyes. "I love you, Katsuki."

Katsuki smiles as your lips parted. When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, his ears and face red. "What a beautiful wife I have. With a kind and patient heart. Just what did I do to deserve you?" Katsuki asks.

"I've talked to the Commission and asked them to have tomorrow as your day off, they agreed. I also filed for a leave. So tomorrow, my hero, you are all mine."

You see the clear shift of shock to a breath of relief in your husband's face. He needed that, you needed that. After all, your rest can only be found in each other's arms. Katsuki is a good man; he has always been, and he always will be. And to be a wife of a great man like Bakugo Katsuki, aren't you lucky?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ thank u for reading! :>> . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ more of katsuki, here! ♡

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Their Pearl | Yandere Pirates

My response to @sweethoneyrose83's writing prompt about yandere poly pirates. Took me forever but I just had to get it out my system! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“This meetin’s officially called to order.” First Mate Ran is glaring at the scallywags of his Captain’s crew, without an ounce of sympathy for the guilty-looking few, “Seems like y’all have been costin’ us a month's worth of travel delaying our biggest job yet.”

The six pairs of eyes looked anywhere but Ran or the glaring Captain Lu at the head of the table. Some of them didn’t have the decency to look away with guilt but at the wooden ceiling whistling familiar tunes, rocking on the chairs they were leaning in. Ran didn’t know if that indifference bothered him more.

“Since y’all think it’s not worth comin’ straight ta me or the Captain we’ll be goin’ over each of yer fail’res.”

Black eyes scanned the long table, a relic earned on a heist of a Queen’s museum. The history within its worn wooden finish and stone markings was of the infamous pirate band—Deadman’s Collect–a band of pirates that would meet at the table to plan their grandest loots. For a crew descended from the captain’s owned it, collectively they decided it was better off in their hands than in the museum of a royal, who fought for their executions. As it belonged, it was serving pirates once again on a mission to defy the oppressive oligarchy they were forced to live in. 

“Looks like you’ll be first—Heine brothers.” 

All heads turned to look at the mischievous pair of twins, their silent smiles graduated to smirks  Their unbrushed and untamed heads of burgundy hair, fashioned like the manes of the lion statues standing guard in front of the Western King’s palace. Almost indistinguishable from one another there’s Klaus and Kurt—the strong hands of the ship and the muscle in every fight. Despite not always being the first to come up with a plan or scheme, neither needed to be goaded to do whatever it took to keep the crew safe. Usually, that was what they preferred to do rather than be patient and not kill everyone in their path. Their dynamic with the crew was silently loved; always up for a joke, and their overprotectness of everyone, especially the crew’s weaker members. So it was the most shocking for Ran to discover the brothers no longer poking at the prisoner but playing with them. 

“In our defense,” Kurt spoke playing with a strand of his unruly hair,” we found the little Pearl incredibly entertaining.”

Klaus giggled diabolically as he thought back to their interactions with the prisoner. Of course, it wasn’t unusual that when there was fresh meat the twins enjoyed torturing them but never would they take it farther than that. But of course, there was something different about the King’s Pearl. 

“Getting seasick?” Klaus had taken advantage of Ran’s divided attention to sneak off to the brig, where the most expensive item they’d ever had on their boat was.

“Nope.  As the eldest of the North Creston Name, I’ve been on plenty of ships before!” 

Klaus chuckled watching them stick their nose up and then stumble as the boat rocked. Checking the narrow stairway down, the redhead tested his luck, looking around for the key to let himself in. Finding it in a barrel out of the cell’s field of vision he quickly unlocked the cell, making its only occupant jump.

“You lyin’ to me aren’t you?”

“W-what? I’m not! It’s the truth!”

His smile dropped, green eyes giving a death glare hundreds had seen before their deaths. Without breaking eye contact he pulled out his favorite dagger, twirling the jagged blade expertly in his hand. 

“Y’know what we do to liars, meat?”

“No.”

“We mark ‘em. Make sure the truth is carved into their skin forever,” he held the dagger under their chin making them lift their head so that Klaus could enjoy the fearful expression on their face,” like a tattoo except ours is going to be..much…deeper.”

Suddenly the expression was gone and a look of curiosity remained instead. 

“Wait what’s a tattoo?”

What a setup! He could stab them and they’d have their answer, but the tilt of their head despite the dagger less than a hair away let him humor them. 

“It’s easier if I just show ya.”

They lit up, moving forward so fast he almost didn’t have time to pull his dagger away. Sheathing it he knelt to their level, pulling back his opened collar more to reveal the marking underneath his collarbone. A gnarly twist of snakes and daggers on a rotting corpse. It was his go-to for torture; the well-known marking striking just as much fear if not more than they were already experiencing. 

“Wow,” their eyes were wide and their mouth open,” does it hurt at all?”

“Ha not really I don’t–” he was going to continue to rave about how pain doesn’t scare him in the slightest instead he felt the warm and soft hands trailing the design. 

“Cool!” 

They looked up at him with an unfamiliar expression. One of wonder. Something Klaus wasn’t exactly known for inducing. It made something in his heart tug, a feeling exclusive to his adored pirates. Usually looking up at him in admiration of his strength or with a challenge but this….was nothing he’d ever felt before.

“I’ll be back, gotta go!”

“Oh uhm bye then.”

Ignoring the way that same tug reappeared as he, hearing them sadly play with their fingers. He left as soon as possible, barely remembering to close the gate before heading up the stairs to safety. 

It just couldn’t be!

He needed his other half to be sure.

“Oh, it’s you again!”

The joyful greeting was not what Kurt was expecting. Just returning the key his brother was carelessly carrying around. If the Captain figured out it was misplaced they’d never hear the end of it.

The prisoner couldn’t go far thanks to the chain and cuff attaching them to the bed, but they were standing looking starry-eyed and smiling as they mistook him for his brother. Alas, Kurt wasn’t devoid of mischievousness, even though some may consider him the more behaved brother, when an opportunity presented itself he just couldn’t refuse!

“Do you by any chance have more of those tattoos to show me?”

Kurt held back a laugh before agreeing to unlock the cell once again to do what he knew his brother would have done, choosing another one. Lifting the sleeves of shirt up to his shoulder he showed off his bicep, trying not to react when he was so willingly touched.

“Wow! So many! Super duper cool!”

Kurt scoffed to himself. So a little gushing was what got him all worked up, how cute! He’d be sure to tease him with this later–

“And you’re so strong! I reckon—sorry I’m real sure you could just carry me! Wait let’s try it!”

The absolute invasion of the prisoner hanging on his curled bicep is startling but not as much as the end of it when they clumsily dismount falling into his chest. For a moment, maybe it’s instinct that his arm wraps around to steady them. Leaving him unguarded for the unbelievably carefree face staring up at him.

“Thanks! Sorry for stumbling over you like this, if you don’t mind we can try again!”

Kurt liked being looked up to and praised, but this was making his heart thump the same way it did when he cornered their bratty cabin boy. Even still this was a whole new feeling and he wouldn’t be a Heine if he didn’t explore this further!

“But of course!”

From that moment forward the twins decided they’d extend their efforts from lightly teasing with their crew to outright delaying them. They couldn’t deny it hurt their heart to hear them complain about the waning supplies and the money they needed to repair the oldest parts of the ship. But they figured the extra time was worth it to know of the intense feelings they had for their dear prisoner.

“Just cause ya caught feelin’s, that excuses you’re behavior?”

Klaus hummed looking carelessly at the steps that led to the upper deck of the ship as if he could see their Pearl through the wooden door. It bothered Ran that Kurt wasn’t even paying attention in his brother’s stead, like he usually did, only slowly blinking up at the ceiling with a lovestruck smile on his face. 

“It’s without a doubt Klaus and I have fallen deeply for our little Pearl. I’d definitely give you trouble if you tried to turn them in now.”

Ran was openly glaring as twin pairs of emerald eyes glared back with an intensity typically reserved for the bedroom the pirates on this ship. As much as he’d like to dismiss it as an over-exaggeration from them he’d seen the kind of devotion they had. 

“Hello (Y/n) you’re getting better at using that mop.”

Klaus and Kurt had managed to slip away after breakfast to visit their favorite prisoner, who had graduated from daydreaming in their cell. After the first two weeks of being delayed, the Captain approved of them having a few chores of course while always being monitored. Though it was very quickly learned they didn’t have to worry about them escaping too much at all.

“Really?!”

They weren’t, but Kurt thought the way they struggled with waving the mop nonsensically on the deck was incredibly cute. His brother, of the same mindset, cooed before pinching and squishing their cheeks.

“So cute! Maybe I should show you my technique with the mop?”

“Oh, you will? I’d love that Klaus!”

Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew what his brother was doing and he wished he thought of it before him. He frowned at his brother as he slotted himself behind (Y/n) and clasped his hands around their awkward grip on the mop. Kurt settled to stand aside already concocting a way to intervene, in the meantime hoping they wouldn’t catch onto his brother closing the distance.

“--So if you want you should bend back into me and–”

“I didn’t know you had others on the crew!”

“Yes, I’d love it if you bent into—wait what?!

Kurt followed your gaze toward a man attempting to hide behind some barrels, and looking further past them he could tell others were coming up the side of the boat. It was supposed to be a silent ambush, from some amateur pirates. They must’ve counted their crew and thought it’d be an easy job. They’d be dead wrong. 

The brothers already had their hands on their trusted knuckle knives and jeweled punch knuckles. They spared a second to look at one another–the silent orchestrating of a plan to quickly dispatch the intruders only for their Pearl to speak out before them.

“Hey! What are you doing sneaking around for?”

The first head that had been hiding figured their cover was blown or would be if he didn’t dispatch one of the waving witnesses, charging with a long knife. Kurt and Klaus sprung into action, the former twin breaking the arm of the lunging intruder, holding his other hand on their face casually snapping their neck. By then Klaus had spun (Y/n) around excusing the intruders' attendance on the ship; it was refreshing having someone so unfamiliar with their gritty style of life around. But it came with its own challenges. Challenges Klaus and Kurt would love to have. Kurt quickly threw the corpse where it was hiding before, joining Klaus in encouraging (Y/n) to go to the kitchen. 

“We have to dismiss our unwanted guests, so if you would please go help Marie in the kitchen.”

“Oh okay but if Angel comes back you’ll have to tell him why the deck isn’t swabbed.”

“Sure sure little Pearl. Bye-bye now!”

The brothers turned to the intruders who they purposely lightly incapacitated quietly groaning as they attempted to get up. They wanted them to be lucid for the ‘fun’ the twins planned to have. Ran recalled finding the aftermath of said intruders and not clearly being able to tell how many originally invaded. The twins infamously spend a quarter of their day reducing their enemies into a bloody, burnt mess. With great pride, they confided in him, how they wished they could show (Y/n) but the First Mate convinced them not to. Part of the agreement was that no permanent damage was inflicted and Ran was sure looking at the amalgamation of human corpses would scar them for life. Ran was certain such a reaction was only reserved for the crew.

“Are you openly admitting to betraying this crew on behalf of a prisoner?”

The twins shrugged and Ran had half a thought to throw them in the brig just for their nonchalance. He was going to do just that before their Angel spoke up. Always the odd one out of a crew of pirates, his hair was the brightest blond almost white. Combed and maintained just a little past his ears, his skin lightly sunkissed an active choice many on a pirate crew wouldn’t care to do. Despite technically being the cabin boy Angel’s almond-shaped red eyes with long lashes to boot were a soft spot for the whole crew. 

Blushing oh so cutely, he faked a cough to bring attention to himself,” Ahem, I also…like them and would like them not to be delivered.”

His statement made all but the twins and Captain Lu gasp in shock. The Captain smiled, her dagger-like silver teeth glinting from the sparse lanterns around. She was leaning forward, her talon-covered index fingers tapping excitedly on the table, leaning even closer to the petite cabin boy on her left. His blush intensified as she twirled a talon around one of his blonde strands. The surrounding crew getting just as hot as him.

“I thought you wanted them ‘gone as soon as possible’?”

He closed his eyes as though that would stop everyone’s curious gazes, with his nose slightly in the air he made his case.

“Well I’ve changed my mind…last time I checked that wasn’t a crime.”

The Captain chuckled her metal claw softly grazing from his hair to his naked neck,” It isn’t, but what made you change your mind?”

The question saddled Angel with too many different memories. In the short time, his Pearl arrived on the ship he couldn’t deny the fluffy feeling in his chest when there was any inkling of their prisoner involved. But it wasn’t always this way. Firstly he didn’t mind all that much, the crew had held hostages before. It was the change that was taking over the crew that made him reevaluate. Two weeks into their imprisonment already half the crew were sneaking off and arguing about sneaking off to “play” with the prisoner. Ignoring Angel’s usually coveted advances was an easy way to earn his hatred. Which resulted in his usual routine with the Captain–cuddled up to her after a particularly passionate romp to ask for the one thing that would cure his sadness.

“You want me to get rid of our big-ticket prisoner?”

“Yes! I mean aren’t you worried about all the stalling the royals have been doing? Don’t you think they’re stringing you along? And heck we don’t even need to keep all of them alive and just keep a finger that we can send for…motivation!”

For a second, Angel thought he’d won. The Captain cooed, running her dark hands through his tussled hair and lovingly kissing his forehead. Barely able to hide his victory his pink lips curved into a smile, that dropped with the Captain’s knowing smirk.

“You’re jealous of them?”

“What jealous!?” Instinctively Angel perked up sitting up in the bed, completely ignoring his worried damsel routine. 

“I have nothing to be jealous of! That barnacle is getting everyone worked up for no good reason!”

“How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know they aren’t worth the fuss if you’ve never played with them yourself?”

Angel crossed his arms to pout, managing his dramatic fall into the captain's bed (minding his sore behind). Glaring at the wooden grooves of the decorated wall as if they were the ones denying him. 

“I don’t need to know.”

“Well maybe you should….then you could leverage it for some much-needed time with everyone.”

Angel hated knowing that he was taking the Captain’s advice in the first place. Fully accepting the task of making the pampered prisoner useful by sharing his chores with them. The collective groans from the disappointed crew only spurred him on. Harshly shoving a pale and scrub into their hands and screaming for them to scrub the deck. Leaning back on a barrel as he styled his hair looking in the reflection of a compact mirror that Kurt stole just for him, he was sure it’d be easy. “Spending time to learn” while the prisoner he hated did his chores sounded like a wonderful dream. Except this prisoner was like nothing he’d dealt with before.

“Alright so make sure to scrub the floor. Don’t be too heavy with the wat–”

SPLASH

“...Okay…that’s a bit much but–”

SPLISH! SPLISH!

“STOP STOP! What are you doing?! Serves me right to believe some rich kid would know how to scrub a floor!”

“Well I’m sorry but I wasn’t exactly allowed to learn at home.”

“But I’m sure someone was scrubbing the floors, wouldn’t hurt to watch them right?”

“I was strictly forbidden from spending time with others….including the maids.”

“...Well you’re going to learn. Grab the scrub.”

He hated to admit, that he enjoyed watching them flounder with the new tasks. Turning to him with that wide-eyed curious stare admitting they had no idea what a ‘sea shanty’ was. It was weirdly endearing, to be the one looked up to despite being the shortest. To be asked for his opinion on things other than costumes for a disguise. Being the one to do the pinning against the wall when he’s being particularly mean.

Angel hated to admit it but when he was confided in about an arranged marriage, he actually intervened. 

“So we’re docking at Restwood Kingdom. Small town. You’re not going to get to see it though.”

“That’s okay I’ve already been.”

“...You have?”

“Yeah, my….betrothed lives there.”

“.....Your betrothed?”

“...Yeah my family wasn’t thrilled but they said he would have been the best for me.” “Do you feel the same way?”

He studied their face so intensely then, studying the quirk in their lips and their wandering eyes. He prided himself on knowing when his Pearl was happy. When they were reminiscing. This was not one of those times…there was something off.

“It doesn’t really matter,” the sad smile made him sick, “ when I go back they’re going to start the wedding plans.”

“...Hm that’s a shame.” 

Angel felt no remorse, casually reminding Ran of a juicy bit of information the prisoner let slip. Handing over the drawn map he convinced them to draw to ‘see the garden’ they talked so much about. Pretending to be just as distraught that a headline of the prince being massacred is published during their stay. Hiding the smile that threatened to come while cuddling a crying (Y/n) into the bed he was sharing with Marie. 

“So yes. I changed my mind because as much as I hate to admit I do…like them.”

“Whoa so they were gonna marry that prick,” Kurt piped up, smiling wide as he looked at the pinned headline in the brig. Klaus and a few others at the table snickered an air of pride exuding from everyone in the room, making Ran roll his eyes. They were getting distracted again. 

“That explains your sudden necessity for a…noble’s head…movin’ on. Willow? What about yer navigation blunders? You’ve purposely been leading us astray fer over a month now. I thought yer vow of loyalty trumped that.” 

The islander navigator sighed, “I’m loyal to my heart. That is why I came on this ship, in the first place.”

A series of cheers and whoops erupted from the table, Marie and Reese high-fiving her from both sides, much to Ran’s displeasure. Willow simply shrugs, her hooped earrings jingling against her necklaces as she shakes her head. Even without her culture’s morals influencing her, she was always inclined to follow her heart. Why else would she leave the stifling paradise of the islands and its familiar grottos and underwater caves and the singing with sirens if not for love? Watching the Captain, then the twins, then the others all falling for the poor prisoner. She recalled when she first laid eyes on the little Pearl, freshly plucked from the protective mouth of the royal clam. The Captain and the First Mate had headed the mission, relying on Reese and her to keep their passage out clear. It was but a moment when they needed to get past a crowd of marching guards. Reese had been the one to ask what everyone was thinking.

“Uh, are we going to gag them or something? What if they screamed right now?”

They didn’t respond instead the prisoner that was tied up and currently sitting on the sewer floor was attempting to raise their hands as if they were in school. The Captain snickered and Ran rolled his eyes, as Reese watched their eager attempt to ask for permission. Willow was the one who finally let them speak, with a finger to her lips. The prisoner’s expression lit up…like a teacher’s pet who could finally speak.

“Oooh I promised I wouldn’t make a sound for the whole trip! As long as I get a street beignet in the end!” 

Willow quietly laughed along with Reese before they were on the move again. Watching as their untouched ankle was shackled in their cell and the expression on their face not even changing did something to her. Something she found not many of her current partners had. Not that they weren’t sympathetic or understanding, just that they couldn’t possibly know how easy it was to be swept away by the pirates when she met them. And she knew that her Pearl felt the same way.

“Did you really promise not to speak for some pastries?”

“Yes!” 

“But weren’t you afraid? Didn’t you want to be helped?”

“I…kindof have always wanted to sneak away I just could never do it. If that makes sense.”

“It does. More than you’ll ever know.”

She recalled their conversations between the bars of the cell. Animated and intrigued with every word that came from her typically untalkative self. Even her dreams were filled with their endless chatter and entrancing smiles. Being a follower of her heart meant listening to her dreams and more than anything telling her destiny demanded she have them. Have you. And she’d do anything to keep you.

 “Mmmh Willow.”

“Sorry little Pearl, I’m almost done.”

“S-s-so this is kind of like a tattoo? Except with your mouth?”

“Yes,” she licked lovingly at the puncture marks along their neck. Pride filled her heart as she watched the blood underneath their skin coagulate, “something like that.”

That’s probably why she could only stare in response to Ran’s question.

“You’re asking if I’d join the twins? If they were to ever rebel for them?”

Ran nodded.

“Of course, I would.”

Kurt and Klaus cheered roping a reluctant Angel into it too, making Ran send a scathing look for them to stop. It didn’t and without his prompting Marie, the brunette chef spoke her peace. 

“I’d also reckon they deserve a place with us, forever. Don’t think I could bear it if they left me now!”

The freckled chef had their own share of tantalizing conversations over the meals she’d deliver. The kind she often never could have with the other pirates being as close as they were, it was lovely having a new taster.

“Hmmm so good…though.”

“What? What is it?”

“I think this could use…some more spice.”

“Really?! But I tried using that oregano they got for me.”

“No no, another spice maybe try,,,, coriander.”

“I’ll have to give that a try.”

Marie would love to say that she too had waited for a long while before she was enraptured but that just wasn’t the case. From the second they scarfed down and happily ate her food she was hooked. She just loved a good eater! Dreaming about what else she could feed their lovely little captive, who was just so responsive. So responsive they rarely ever refused her dishes even when they were well beyond the point of full. Not exactly free to roam around the ship, she’d fill them up with her concoctions and recipes until they couldn’t move. Her favorite instance was during their first day out of the cell, finally allowed to be out but only with a chaperone. Marie had volunteered, shoving her stuffed Pearl into her bed, taking advantage of their feast and the sleepiness that followed. With a few exhausted groans, they were asleep giving her free range to poke and squish the fat of their stomach. Squealing to herself at its light firmness, she delighted in the freedom to do so. Her other lovers on the ship were freaky open but not enough for her to do all she pleased. But her Pearl was different so oblivious asleep they wouldn’t protest her hands wandering to explore and touch and taste.

“You’re so easy, (Y/n)...so mine.”

She’d only felt inclined to stop when Reese had walked in on her, a silent warning to go no further as she nibbled on an ear and placed a grape into her Pearl’s lips. There was no one she could do this to without being scolded or with anyone so unaware of their own limits that they would stop her. Not to mention she adored the compliments given to her without caring where the meat she’d gotten came from. At this point, she could never go back.

“That would leave you Reese…do you too feel this way about our hostage.”

All eyes were on Reese. The impish, pick-pocketer with a big smile, an aloof personality, and hair dark as the sea. Suspicious as he was a good fighter, rarely was he on the receiving end of such big questions. Often preferring to go with the flow of his fellow pirates and backing his Captain in any way possible. When the plan was in motion to abduct the greatest payoff that they’d ever attempted he was all for it. Dismissing their weird behavior and the Captain’s quiet opinion of them. Not once had he tried to risk it, until he’d seen it. Everyone on the ship had dopey faces and distracted behavior–it was so out of character for everyone. It didn’t take long before he’d found the culprit and was tempted to do what he did to all his problems.

Chuck it off the plank.

“Are you sure this is a fun game? It just seems a little scary to me!”

“That’s part of the fun! That little adrenaline rush is how you know you’re playing it right!”

“Oh okay!” 

It was just too easy. The simple proposal of a ‘pirate game; had them following like an obedient dog, completely unaware their owner was going to shoot them in the back of the head. Reese didn’t think he’d feel bad about it. Chalking it up to another kill of some enemy to his crew, he’d done it before so many times. Using his tricks and wit to outsmart them; it really was too easy to instruct them to balance themself on the plank above the sea.

“Okay I’m at the end Reese I did it!”

“Good…real good.”

“Wow the water is—”

It was second hand to slam his foot on the end of the plank, sending their hostage slightly in the air and tumbling into the depths below. From his safety on the ship's railing, he watched them resurface once, reaching out to him and struggling to call his name. 

“Ree—”

Seeing their face disappear under the waves Reese thought he should feel free, yet his feet refused to turn away. Staring at the unmoving water trying to decipher why there was a piece of him hoping they’d resurface. But he recalls a conversation he’d had with them. It was a one-off something he probably didn’t even initiate.

“Oh yeah, I don’t know how to swim. My family told me I’d never need to!”

He remembered thinking the same thing he was now.

How helpless.

They need me.

He was only reassured when he finally dove in, a floating device tied to him as he held them up. Wet coughing and puking of saltwater against his chest and their hands hanging tightly around his neck. It was the tears that had him hugging back.

“Reese…”

“Yes?”

“I-I really don’t like this game.” 

“I know me neither.”

“C-can we g-g–go home?” 

Home. That’s where they needed to be because they were so darn helpless. He had to make sure they did just that, forever.

“Yup they gotta be here, I don’t know how they’ll survive otherwise.”

Once again the pirates around the table began to cheer, a collective air of acceptance of the same truth it all stopped though as everyone was reminded of had the real say. Captain Lu sat at the head of the table with her talon-covered hands folded underneath her face. Her luscious lips are straight, her expression far too apathetic for the cheering pirates before her. They held their breaths in anticipation—a silence encompassing the mess hall as they waited on her command. 

Her First Mate turned to her, his words suddenly so much heavier,” Cap’n Lu, do you want to keep the prisoner or d’ya prefer to return ‘em and get our reward?” 

The Captain leaned back into her chair—her throne observing the faces of her pirates whom she adored, all waiting for her word as they ought to. She, like many here, felt as though someone was missing from their ranks….and she couldn’t agree more. Having been the one to receive a message in the bottle written by the King’s beloved child. On the parchment was a plea to see the world, to see the ocean for themselves, and to find love.  

Well, now they had eight. 

There was an apparent thrill for Lu–with every successful treasure hunt, there was a small part of her that felt satisfied. There truly was nothing that beat pure ale down her throat, a lover at her knees, and a view of the treasures she’d acquired burying her other lovers. It beat a hard day's work. It beats an ‘honest job.’ She could think of nothing as fulfilling until she met (Y/n) in the flesh. 

She and Ran lead the heist, letting only themselves into the innards of the intensely guarded wing of the castle. It felt disgustingly perfect to be trampling the lightly pink rug of the castle bedroom, leaving the faint dirt print within its wool. Passing a tray of ornate gifts, ranging from perfumes to portraits and priceless works of art. The handles and doors grand and golden would be fine prizes any other day but Rand and Lu walked right past them. All to stop in front of the completely bored Pearl at the center of it all. 

“I got your message.”

She handed the bottle over. The original writer tracing their sloppy handwriting from so long ago. A smile spread across their face.

“So have you come to take me? Like a hero?”

“Just like one.”

“Will I…” they trailed off eying the calendar plastered on the opposite wall. Large and in an overly fancy font mapping out a schedule that didn’t change much at all,” get everything I asked for before I come back?”

Without hesitation, she responded, “Of course and so much more.”

With a smile on both of their faces, the Pearl allowed themselves to be tied up. Stopping to negotiate a gag, and then leaving into the sewer systems of the castles. In the comfort of the ship, Lu felt no better place for her Pearl was by her side. In her bed. In her First Mate’s bed. In any of her pirate’s beds. 

No greater gift than seeing them there….among her pile of treasures.

“What do you think Ran? What will your Captain say?”

The question made the pirate fluster, shifting their boots along the floor. Dutifully looking into his Captain’s single purple eye. The silent question hanging between them—’ What do you want me to say?’. It was easier than breathing, the split-second answer that punctuates every scenario his heart likes to play out. 

Thinking back to all the new memories he’d made with their Pearl. It was the evening of a minor heist that ended with a fight. Not against the corrupt merchant but with Reese. The pick-pocket had been particularly reckless attacking the knight-in-training who’d followed their band bag to the ship. Despite shakily holding a sword up, Reese attacked with extreme prejudice. Holding the boy by the neck as he repeatedly stabbed a dull knife into his sternum, dragging through the skin to his intestines. Ran was the first to witness this, surprised by the aggression to someone they’d usually let live. 

“He saw them! Sleeping in the brig! He was going to tell! I can’t–! I wouldn’t–! We can’t let that happen!”

Ran listened to Reese flounder, the manic look in his blue eyes anxiously darting about. He’d rarely seen him in such a state. The detached sneak had a habit of masking his pain, a survival instinct he couldn’t quite part with. A paranoid obsessiveness that requires unspoken requirements to be fulfilled puts him on edge. People, not tied up, are the usual ones—too many opportunities for danger. And apparently, anyone threatening to remove their little Pearl would do the same. 

Ran did what he usually did when he got in this state. Pulling Reese into his chest, blocking his view of the dying intruder. Letting his rough hands curl within the locks of his shaking partner, holding him tightly as he hummed. 

“No one’s taking our Pearl. They won’t be going anywhere.”

“....Promise?”

Ran didn’t hesitate when he promised. He also didn’t hesitate when Marie and Willow asked to make a special pitstop. The chef wouldn’t stop talking about how their Pearl in passing spoke of a specific spice so fondly, that they’d die if they never got to see their expression when they finally tasted it again. Stealing anything from the spice merchants meant going out of their way; possibly mingling with other pirates who specialized in the trade. Yet he still said they could. Purposefully stalling their pearl until Marie was in the position to watch excitedly as they gleefully ate her cooking. Sending Willow to ‘wait’ with their Pearl for their scheduled bathroom break. Keeping quiet Willow promises to visit later.

“Are you alright with this, Ran?”

“Yes…you were very helpful…for our requests with the prisoner.”

“It’s not a problem. We haven’t broken the routine or protocol.”

He did lie just that once about not breaking protocol. He didn’t bother saying anything the next time Angel and the twins, confiscated a line of rope. Typically Ran demanded strict ledgers and labeling when it came to any supplies on the ship. It was the best way to make sure everything was in order. So typically he’d have quite a lot to say about the unspecified use of an extra rope—but this case was special. It was in front of the twins’ room, Klaus and Kurt usually kept the door open as an invitation but not this time. Knocking brought out Klaus and Kurt, pink on their cheeks and large smiles on their faces.

“We’re using it for a game.”

“Yes, a very fun game.”

Ran was so annoyed he hadn’t figured out why yet,”Well am I getting the rope back?”

The twins shared a look as they usually did before speaking up. Their door opening to reveal a flushed Angel has them stopping and eagerly turning to him. 

“---We’re ready for you~ Oh  Ran, how’ve you been?”

The twins no longer interested in the faux conversation, went into their room leaving Angel to placate their First Mate. 

“Sorry, no guarantees about that rope. It might not survive what we have planned for it.”

Ran wasn’t an idiot he recognized the specific shirt he was wearing. The one that was flowy and hung off his shoulders–deliciously inviting. Though it begs the question who was being strung up if it wasn’t him?

“Oh, and I’m chaperoning our Pearl by the way! Bye!”

He quickly disappeared into the room behind him, leaving Ran to burn with the broken rules of any prisoner. Granted special permissions were given, he wondered just how far he was slipping or just how bad it had gotten.

“Thank you Ran for helping me! If you can believe it I usually am not allowed to do this completely by myself.”

Beneath him was (Y/n) colloquially dubbed their Pearl bare and resting within the tin washbasin. In his hands was the washcloth lathered in the sudsy remains of a dwindling soap bar. Fighting the burning in his cheeks and begging twitchy hands running over unmarred skin, with the reverence it usually did. It was the quiet splash of the water with the slightest movements, their breathy moans of satisfaction that brought Ran to his knees. In his heart, nay! His very soul was for them.

For them, no amount of gore and death was unnecessary.

For them, no amount of stalling, lying, or breaking of rules was unneeded.

For them, no amount of rope, jewels, or spices could compare.

For them, their Pearl was worth more than all of it–and trading them in for any pile of gold or riches would be a loss. For nothing can compare to the value of their Pearl. 

“My Cap’n, you must say yes. As you already have the greatest of treasures.”

——————————————————————————————————

The nervousness you felt was growing exponentially. A little while ago you’d been left in the crow’s nest; Lu assuring you’d be helpful while they had their meeting. For all the stories and headlines you’ve read about pirates, it’s crazy to know they demanded to have meetings with one another. 

Staring at the endless sea and sky full of blue, you let your mind wander. Thinking back to the endless cycle you originally lived through. Waking and being pampered day in and day out, in the same room you’d been in since your youth. Looking at the definition it constituted it being called insanity, but this insanity eased all in court. All in the castle. All in the Kingdom. To know their future was locked away, upkept, and healthy. 

But that was gone now. 

You were free.

For now. 

You wondered how long it’d take for your parents to chase, for the pirates to lose interest, for others to learn that the jewel of the crown was easy pickings. It felt so dreamy. To spend your days learning something new, trying what you’ve heard adventurous heroes get to do. Daring heists, escaping storms….being loved. 

It was foreign but good.

So good, you dreaded seeing the Royal Messenger ship appearing on the horizon. The white sails instead of red or black proving this was the one to pay whatever it took to bring you home. 

Quickly you stood, peering into the eye-glass once again. Turning to the ladder you made your way down, running to knock on the closed door of the mess hall. Instead, the door swung open revealing the dressed in purple Captain Lu smiling her infamous smile. Reminding you of the first day you finally met… a shame it’d be your last.

“Captain the Royal ship is here on the North horizon.”

She hums stepping to the side to reveal the others who had heard such major news. The first to step out was Marie, her bottom lip jutted out and quivering with an onset of tears. Throwing herself at you, you caught her to the best of your ability. The chef was petite but her grip around you was tight, making her dead weight a problem for you. 

“Don’t tell me yer gunna leave me (Y/n)! How will I go on?!”

You had nothing to say, just patting her flowing brown hair. Saving you from outright admitting you’ve never comforted anyone ever, Angel piped up.

“You’ll be fine,” he lightly kicked her, looping an arm around yours, “get up we’ve got work to do.”

“So what do we have to do to get ready? How do ransoms work exactly?”

The pirates around you stopped for a moment, something unfamiliar jading their expressions. But as quick as it came it was gone, them smiling and laughing like you’d told a funny story. You didn’t hide your curious face…was that the wrong thing to say? You felt a nibble against your earlobe, the familiar smell of lemons invading your senses as Angel pulled you close.

“You're absolutely hilarious, (Y/n).”

Klaus sauntered towards you coming on your opposite side, to hold your chin up. A light peck was all he got in before Kurt butted in. Holding the gesture for much longer before his brother pulled at his matching messy hair. The tug of war continued for a while until you heard a large a two smacks occurring simultaneously. Klaus and Kurt snapping upright clutching their behinds with a smirk and a flustered smile directed at Willow, who took advantage of their surprise to squeeze in pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“We’ve come to an agr’ment, Pearl. You won’t be going.”

“What?!”

“Isn’t this just the best,” Marie piped up. Tears gone and her grip now fondling the fat of your waist,” You get to try to fill up on all the new ideas I’ve got cookin’ up!”

Reese stepped forward minding Marie still kneeling on the ground, he looked you deep into your eyes a warm smile spreading on his face. 

“You’re stayin’ I doubt that ships going to get within boardin’ distance of us before they’re blown to smithereens.”

You don’t choose to focus on the dark look on his face or the way they all seemed to smile along with him. With Angel still clinging onto you, you turn to Lu who’s tucking her own spyglass into her coat pocket. 

“What d’ya say, Pearl? Gettin’ a little bit more than you asked for.”

Your first meeting ran through your head, and you nodded. Looking past her to see Ran who has a rare smile on his face. You pull Angel and Marie into a hug, leaning backward when Kurt, Klaus, and Willow join. Reese comes forward slipping past the arms going for him before he runs for the crow's nest. 

A look is shared with Ran as he runs off, making the First Mate fake cough to get your attention. 

“Now (Y/n), your trainin’ as a pirate begins now, and for yer first lesson: we’ll be discussin’ battle at sea!”

You beamed, wiggling free to follow Ran who was cleaning his handgun. Watching in awe as he practiced his aim at the incoming ship. 

“Are we really going to hurt them?”

He hummed, “Only if they choose not to leave us be. As a pirate, we protect our own first and foremost. You think you can handle that (Y/n)?”

It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy this adventure a little while longer!

[scorpioriesling]

OML so good things come it groups of three has had me in a headlock and I don’t want to escape. I have trieddddddd so very hard to find scraps of smth like it and I found nothing😔. So here I am wondering if we the people can get another Liam/Ridoc/Bodhi (or another combination of fw guys if ur feeling silly) x Reader PLEASE 🙏. If you wanna make it a part two or a whole new thing idc Ill eat whatever you give me your writing is AMAZING.

-🎀Anon

Good Things Come in Groups of Three (Round 2)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x Ridoc x Bodhi x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, smut

Summary: Studying in the library late at night has your mind wandering… you can blame it on the time of night, the lack of sleep, or simply being alone. Regardless of the excuse, you can’t seem to put those 3 boys out of your mind.

SR’s Note: Thank you for your patience, queen. (; I hope this part 2 measures up to your expectations!! Also, I don’t want to spoil anything, but I do have this group of 3 + reader involved once again!! It’s only a draft right now for Kinktober… so you definitely don’t want to miss out!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your eyes roved over the text, trying to commit it to memory. Jesinia had done you a solid, pulling some of the best tomes for you to study before your test on Friday. Her expertise not only a scribe, but as your friend just might be what saved your grade.

If you could keep your mind from wandering, that is.

You'd caught yourself thinking, more than once, about the utterly insane predicament you'd found yourself in last week. It seemed that every time you turned a page in the textbook, images would race through your mind, each one as dirty as the last.

Liam fucking you in the shower.

Sitting atop Ridoc's face.

Bodhi's dick filling your throat.

...fuck.

You shake your head, the memory only sending more uncomfortable sensations to your core. This wasn't the time, nor the place -- nowhere, would ever be the time or place again. That was a one and done deal; one you'd be much too embarassed to repeat.

As your palms press into your eyes, you turn your attention to the wall clock, trying to make out the numbers it read.

11:57 pm.

Dammit, you hadn't wanted to be here this late. Perhaps all the reading and pouring over the material was good though, as you felt much more prepared for your upcoming exam. However, you'd failed to notice everyone emptying out of the library over the past few hours.

Your breath catches as you glance around, the dark silence of the hall sending a shiver down your spine. You were right, no one was here at this hour; it was simply you, and the stacks of books.

Book stacks you wouldn't mind being fucked against.

Okay, you really had to stop.

Glancing around once more, you slunk down into your chair a little lower, your fingers slowly leaving the table in favor of tracing along your leather pants. The pressure was getting unbearable, every moment of your past rendezvouz replaying in your mind as your panties grew wetter and wetter.

Ridoc's dick felt so good when he made you ride him.

You unzipped your leathers, your fingers slowly making their way underneath. A sigh escapes your lips as your fingertips brush your clothed clit, moving in small circles atop your panties.

Fuck... the sight of Liam jerking off to you too.

A soft whimper leaves your lips, your eyes widening into slits as you glance around one more time. You just had to make sure, certainly, that no one was in here.

Oh Gods... and Bodhi, spanking your ass-

"You do know this is a, public, space, don't you?"

Your eyes fly open, the figure standing just in the shadows of the nearby bookshelf causing your heart to race. Your hand flies from your pants as you shimmy in your chair, working to rezip.

"O-oh my Gods, uhm, oh my Gods-" you fumble, your vision blurred in embarassment as you stare down at your pants. Why wouldn't the damned zipper just fucking work, already?

Your breath hitches as a large, tanned hand moves atop yours. Your cheeks deepen in color, chest still rising and falling as the adrenaline courses through your veins.

"As your trainer," Bodhi says, his voice low. "I'd tell you to fix yourself, and send you to your dorm to finish this matter in private. Alone."

Your eyes slowly look up, meeting his darkened brown ones as he glares at you.

"But, as an interested party, I'm going to tell you to keep going."

You loose a shaky breath, his unforgiving stare a cross between anger and intrigue. You open your mouth to speak, but Bodhi's hand pushes your shoulder back against the back of the chair.

"Don't say a word, Y/N -- you got caught being a bad, bad girl." He tuts, leaning back to sit in the chair next to you. "Now, you answer to me."

You gulp, staying put as he stretches his legs out before him and gets comfortable, folding his muscled arms over his chest. He couldn’t possibly be serious!

"Keep going." He bites out, and you stare at him wide-eyed.

He scoffs. "What, now you can't hear, either? I said keep going." Your fingers fuddle with the waistband of your pants, shaking as you shove your leathers down to your knees.

"Mhm... play with that pussy, like the bad girl you fuckin' are."

Your fingers find your clit once more, the pleasure mounting in your core as Bodhi's eyes are glued to your every move. In an attempt to stifle your moan, your lip catches between your teeth, muffling the whimper. He's hovering over you in an instant, his hand braced against the back of your chair as his lips move mere inches from yours.

"Why so quiet tonight, hm?" He taunts, and you glare up at him as a wave of defiance rushes through you.

"B-because... it's a.. library." You grit out, failing to think of any other comeback. He laughs, full and unabashedly as he shakes his head low, his eyes meeting yours once more.

"You didn't seem to care that this is a library when you started playing with your cunt, though." He draws in a breath, his gaze flickering between your underwear and your face. "Bad riders don't get rewarded, Y/N... they only get punished."

Your heart races as two more figures appear from the shadows, their hungry gazes trained on you and your minstrations. A small swallow in fear is all Bodhi needs before his hands grip at your waist, hauling you atop the table and sending the books scattering to the floor.

"B-Bodhi... what-"

"Ohh, don't act like this isn't what you wanted," Ridoc sneers from beside you. He leans casually against the bookshelf, the obvious tent in his pants indication that maybe he wanted this to happen too.

"Oh, she wanted it alright," Bodhi huffs, grabbing your pants and roughly yanking them down your legs. He shucks your boots off, tossing them over his shoulder before ripping your pants over your feet. "Caught her playing with herself all alone in here."

Liam tsks, flanking the other side of the table as he watches in faux-disappointment. Had they all arranged this? Had they known you'd be in here?

"I-I..."

"Keep your mouth shut," Bodhi demands, yanking his own pants down just enough for his enormous erection to spring free. Your mouth waters at the sight; you'd forgotten how damn big he was.

"You're gonna work off this little violation, alright?" He chuckles, pulling you to the edge of the table so just your ass hung off the wood. His hand wraps around his cock, pumping it twice before sliding it against your soaking folds. You whimper, and he glares down at you.

"And... you'll be quiet if I say so, alright?" He chuckles, pressing the tip of his dick against your hole. "This is, after all, a library."

The sound threatening to erupt as he slides all the way in can only be described as nothing short of a deafening scream. He pushes himself all the way in, his pelvis flat against your thighs as you try and keep your noises at bay. Wasting no time, he yanks his cock out, only to slam back in with so much force that a small wail breaks free.

"Fuck... tight as fuck Y/N," he comments, speeding up as he fucks himself into you. "Squeezing my goddamned dick, baby."

You moan, the sound mixed with the creaking of the table beneath you. Bodhi's breaths come out in short pants above you, his gaze locked onto where his thick length is pounding into you.

"I... oh Gods," you cry out, your heaed turning to the side as you catch sight of Liam beside you. His tongue rakes across his bottom lip, his own cock hardening beneath his palm. The sight alone could make you cum, especially with the way Bodhi is pounding into you-

"Don't you dare cum," he growls, his hands bracing against your hips as he shoves you closer to him. Your gaze switches back to him as he leans over you, each stroke faster than the last as he barely pulls out anymore. "You're not cumming... not fucking yet."

You whimper as his mouth falls open above you, his eyes half-lidded as his thrusts grow sloppy. Your own impending orgasm has built up, threatening to burst any moment inside of you.

"B-Bodhi-"

"Fuck!' He shouts, your skin flush against his as his cock jumps, pumping his release inside of you. His breathing is heavy, his chest moving rapidly underneath the restraint of his zipped flight jacket. Your face twists in frustration, the heat in your lower tummy already receding as he yanks his cock out of you, a trail of clear semen following.

Sitting up on your hands, you only catch your breath for a minute before Liam saunters toward you, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His hands grip your knees, forcing your legs apart as you try and squeeze them together.

"You're not getting off that easy tonight -- I hope you've realized that."

You stare up at the gorgeous male; a dark, starved look crossing his features as he peers down at you. Your chest heaves as he slowly sits before you, only taking perch on the edge of the chair.

Goosebumps erupt across your skin as he leans forward, his lips mere inches from your glistening cunt -- and blows a stream of cool air across your skin. You clench around nothing, the sensation both extremely erotic and frustrating at the same time.

"Liam, please-"

"Ahh ahh," Bodhi tuts, leaning agaist a nearby table. "I said no mouthing off tonight, remember?"

Liam's dimple pops as he smiles, his handsome features only making you wish your cunt was pressed against his lips. You lie back down as he licks his lips once, his fingers softly trailing along the skin of your thighs. You whimper as he continues toying with you, barely able to keep your writhing at bay.

"Is this... what you want?" He says quietly, as his forefinger presses against your clit. You gasp, sitting up on your forearms to look down at his smug expression.

"Yes... oh Gods, please yes-" You grit out, as his digit slowly circles your clit. You squirm against the touch, wishing for more as he slides his finger around your sensitive bud.

"This isn't about you, though." He says, chuckling as he retracts his finger. He glances up at you before rising between your legs, his hands gripping your waist to flip you over onto your stomach. You gasp as your chest presses against the flat wood, and your stomach drops at the sight before you.

Ridoc stands on the other side of the table, his hand fisting his cock furiously as he gazes down at you.

"Open."

It's all you need to hear before widening your mouth, laying your tongue out flat just like he'd like it.

"Fuck... been waiting for this for damn near a week," he complains, slapping his length against your wet muscle. You squeak in pleasure as you feel Liam behind you, his fingers circling your pulsating opening.

"So wet, baby," he coos, as his ring and middle finger plunge into your aching pussy. He plunges them in, again and again-- the embarassing squelch of your vagina gripping his digits bringing a flush to your cheeks.

Ridoc's free hand caresses your chin, guiding his hard length to your awaiting mouth. You suck in a breath as he sinks his cock in, pushing it to the back of your throat as he groans. Gagging around him, he retracts, shoving back in moments later.

"Gods, Y/N -- you've been saving up for us, hm?" You hear the grin in Liam's voice, your cunt pulsating as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Unable to speak as Ridoc continues fucking your mouth, you only groan in response.

Liam curls his fingers, the tips rubbing against the sensitive spot inside -- you feel as though you'll explode. You huff out a breath, tears forming in your eyes as Ridoc continues assaulting your throat. The combined sensations are too much, your orgasm building with each minstration.

"It's a good thing you're so sexy," he laughs, patting you on the cheek with his free hand. "You've been on my mind all week, baby."

Liam retracts his fingers, and you cry out in frustration. Ridoc pulls out too, the emptiness on either end leaving you hot, bothered, and again, unreleased.

"Don't worry," Ridoc chuckles. "We still have more we want from you."

He appears on the opposite side of the table, standing where Liam just was, his open palm landing a harsh slap against the meat of your ass. You whine, only wishing he'd pleasure you more.

You don't have to beg much.

His hands clench around your hips, drawing you up onto your knees and forearms on the table. You wail again as he spanks you, clenching only when you feel his erection slapping against your cunt.

"You want me, huh?" He teases, landing another slap when you don't respond. "You want me to fuck you?"

You scream in pleasure, glancing behind you to watch as he slides his cock in.

"Yes, please Ridoc! Please fuck me-"

Your words are cut short as a hand wraps around your throat, yanking your head to look before you. Liam chuckles, his hands quickly finding your breast as he stands beside Bodhi -- who's guiding his cock to your lips.

"I told you," he grumbles. "Bad girls... have to be quiet."

He shoves his length in, choking you as he pushes down your throat. Liam pulls your hair, keeping your mouth in place as Bodhi fucks his dick down your raw throat. Ridoc pants from behind you, his girth reaching unimaginable depths inside your quaking pussy.

"You like that, huh?" Bodhi shakes his head, plunging his cock deeper in your mouth. "Like taking my cock while Ridoc fucks you?"

Another wave of pleasure racks your bones, the feeling of their dicks in two of your holes almost more than you can take. You gurgle around Bodhi's length as Ridoc's balls slap against your clit, heightening your senses even more.

"Can't... can't take much more," you garble out, and Liam's fingers pinch your nipple.

"You'll take, what we give you."

You squeak, tears threatening to spill over as you try your hardest to keep your orgasm at bay. Your walls clench around Ridoc's big cock, each thrust pushing you closer, and closer...

He cums with a gasp, hot ropes of his release splattering across your ass. He heaves as he squeezes your right buttcheek, his spent cock resting against the other. Bodhi grits his teeth before releasing as well, his seed spraying down your throat. He yanks his cock out, and Liam moves to hold your jaw as you muster a cough.

"Swallow it all," he commands, and you do as your told. Bodhi retreats, resting lazily in a chair as the aftermath of his orgasm washes over him.

If only you could feel the same.

You gulp down his salty-sweet taste, your muscles growing tired after your night of pleasure. Well... as much pleasure as you were allowed, orgasm-denial and all.

Liam pulls you off the table, holding you upright as he slowly backs you into one of the shadowed bookshelves. You groan again as he kneels before you, Bodhi and Ridoc flanking your either side.

"We've had our fun with you... do you think you deserve to cum?"

You nod your head at his sultry words, and he doesn't even look away from your glistening pussy as he speaks to the other two.

"Do you think she deserves to cum?"

Bodhi tuts while reaching for your chest, openly palming your left breast.

“I suppose she’s been quite good for us tonight.”

Liam nods in agreement, his lips pressing a single kiss against your folds. Your hips involuntarily buck in protest, a short moan coming out as Ridoc rolls your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Shhhh.. patience, baby.”

His voice alone could get you off, such contrast to his usually irritating tone.

Liam’s tongue flicks out, swiping across your cunt as he rolls his thumb over your clit. You squirm, your breaths coming out in quick bursts.

“L-Liam I… won’t last long-“

He chuckles, the vibration edging you further. Ridoc replaces his fingers with his mouth, leaning in to suck and mark your right breast with his teeth. You lean your head back against the shelves, the feeling of ecstasy finally within reach.

“You wanna cum, Y/N?” Bodhi’s breath skates across your skin, goosebumps arising just below your ear as he squeezes your breast partially hard.

“Such a little tease with these gorgeous things,” he continues, and you begin shaking, the feeling of the orgasm within reach.

“Oh FUCK, I’m-“

Ridoc’s hand claps over your mouth as Bodhi holds you upright. You tremble and shake atop Liam’s tongue, the pent up energy from all night finally reaching its sweet release. Liam’s hands reach around and squeeze your ass, holding you in place as you cum on his lips.

“Anybody in here?”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat quickening as you hear the male guard’s voice ring out through the otherwise empty library. Your eyes meet Bodhi’s, and he holds a single finger to his lips. Shh.

“Hello?”

The voice calls again, and the three of you stand in silence against the darkness from the shelves. After a few minutes, the entry door opens and closes once more, and you finally release a breath.

“Well… that was close,” you laugh, the first real sentence you’d uttered in hours. Surely the sunlight would be peeking through the windows anytime now…

You step toward your discarded clothes, making to grab them and put them on when a strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you tightly against a very bare, very toned chest.

“Oh come on — you didn’t think we were actually finished here, did you?”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fantasy Worldbuilding

Fantasy worldbuilding - the process of creating a fictional world replete with core characters, overlapping storylines, detailed settings, and fantastical elements that set the world apart from our own.

A clear, detailed fantasy world will help readers invest in the characters that inhabit it.

Essential Elements of a Fantasy World

The fantasy genre often contains elements of science fiction, magic, or imaginative creatures—but it’s more than just writing every fictional element you can think up. The world of your fantasy novel, video game, television show, or film has to make sense in order for the rest of its parts to work in harmony.

Magic: Decide if there is a magic system in place, then set the rules of it. What powers it? Is it a secret? Can anyone use it?

Geography: It may be helpful to create a fantasy map. Identify major landmasses and historic sites. How does the landscape impact the plot or the characters? What is the climate like? You can get as specific as identifying the indigenous flora and fauna, even if you don’t use those details. As a world-builder, you can include as much or as little in your process and final version as you like—as long as your story comes together in a way that makes sense for the audience.

Society: Figure out the inhabitants of your fantasy world. What language do they speak? What do they look like? Are they humanlike? Are they creaturelike? What sort of culture do they have? How have previous historical events impacted the way they live now?

History: While you don’t have to outline the beginning of your world’s history to the end, it’s useful to know of any key events like wars, plagues, political strife, extraterrestrial invasions, or anything else that had an effect on the way your world operates now.

Time: How does it flow in your world? Is there a calendar? Are there seasons? What affects the light and the darkness?

How to Create a Fantasy World

There are many avenues for writing fantasy worlds, and you can start with whichever aspect you like first:

Use real life as inspiration. That doesn’t mean taking people from existing ethnic groups and putting costumes on them—but observe how other cultures live, how they interact with their environments and each other. By incorporating real-life into your fantasy book, you can avoid falling into tropes and clichés, and create a richer template for your characters and plot to thrive in.

Define the setting. A good starting point when creating a fantasy story is the universe itself. Is this an imaginary world existing within our own world, like Black Panther’s Wakanda? Or is it its own entirely new world, like Narnia in C.S. Lewis’s fantasy series The Chronicles of Narnia? Describe what the landscape looks like, what colors it contains, or how many suns and moons it has. Any details that can help make your fantasy world feel more like real-life in order to help ground it in something believable will make a difference in how your audience feels and experiences it.

Create inhabitants. A fantasy world has more than one type of inhabitant. They can be vastly different from one another, or only have subtle contrasts between them. For example, in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, the magical world setting of middle-earth has both Dwarves and Hobbits, which, despite both being the smaller races, contain many differences between them. They each have their own origins and backstories, temperaments, key aesthetics, daily life routines, and various other aspects that enrich and define the separate races. Inhabitants include the antagonists as well. Make them more than one-dimensional bad guys—give them a motivation that’s relevant to the world they live in.

Make magic. Implement your magic system, if there is one. Write its limits, along with its capabilities. For instance, in George R. R. Martin’s Game of Thrones, the magic in the world seemingly gets stronger when the main character Daenerys Targaryen brings about the birth of her dragons. Magic needs rules in order to function properly in your fantasy world, and while you don’t need to include a list of laws in your writing, the use of it must make them apparent.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[hellsquills]

I think he'd have the most impressive and unexpected list of languages ever

BIG rant ahead this got too out of hand lol

He knows how to speak fluent Spanish because of the time he spent in Latin America, and he has the weirdest combination of insults from every country that he uses interchangeably (he learns which accent and expressions belong to each country so he doesn't sound like such a gringo).

Italian is easy enough. Not only because it's very similar to Spanish, but also because New Jersey is the "Little Italy" of the US (LOADS of Italian descendants there). He knows a good bunch of words, and he can hold his own in a conversation.

French is tricky but it's great for business. Idiots will buy anything that sounds luxurious and pretentious, and nothing screams that louder than French words.

Brazilian is also similar to Spanish, and even though he never went to Brazil, he loves the culture. He meets some Brazilian people at underground dancing shows and learns some words, as well as a good few moves.

Back in the US, he works as a smuggler on the southeast coast, and he gets the chance to learn a few words from sailors all around Northern Europe. Norwegian, Icelandic, Finnish, Swedish... He barely knows any words, just the absolute basics, but he's able to tell them apart.

He learns the rest by living in the streets and sporadically meeting people.

He learns some Asian languages through the food first, since they have very good dishes with surprisingly cheap and easy-to-steal ingredients (rice becomes a big part of his diet since fast food is getting increasingly more expensive), and after that he learns some martial arts terms that he uses in pit fights

He learns some Slavic vocabulary from some girls he used to work with, even though none of them lasted too long (mostly Russian, Polish and Romanian)

He learns German from a mechanic he did some work for, who used to work at a car factory back in Düsseldorf

He learns Darija from a Moroccan restaurant in Georgia that would give him whatever scraps were left at the end of the day because he stole a nice pot for them once

He learns Farsi from some guys who had a car washing business and would let him sleep in their garage during bad winter nights (he worked as a car washer for free in return)

He learns some AAVE from a group of drag queens who regularly performed at the bar he worked as a bouncer for (and taught him how to do drag)

He learns some American English Sign Language from a guitar player in that same bar and their sister, who was a drummer

He also knows the military alphabet (from Shermie) and morse code (which he used with Ford while taking exams together and when their father demanded absolute silence)

Now let me make this clear: the last language book Stan picked up was back in high school. He barely knows how to write most of these languages, safe from Spanish and Italian(ish). He's learned by hearing and is able to differentiate accents, but he can't maintain a full conversation in most of them. He can, however, guess where someone is roughly from just by proximity to the languages he does know.

Additionally:

When Stan loses his memories, he has trouble remembering Spanish, and it fills him with dread, even if he doesn't know why. One day, after a bad nightmare, he wakes up only speaking in Spanish, and Ford doesn't know what to do. Luckily, he knows the young man that works with Stan speaks the language, and so they find a way to communicate until he comes back to his senses.

This happens a few times, each time with a different language. Ford misses the automatic universal translator he lost in Dimension 72TF-0. They learn how to use the text to speech on Google Translate for these situations.

Ford is really impressed with Stan's knowledge. He always knew his brother was good with languages, but he loves seeing him in action. He now has another reason to disprove Stanley when he says he's dumb; no, he isn't, because he's both street smart AND book smart.

Despite being good at languages, Ford is better at learning new slang lol. Stan gives up trying to understand the kids' weird words and just nods along.

What if Stanleh had spent more time in non-english speaking countries? Like he ends up knowing English but it's broken and unused? His main language is Spanish and he knows a bit of other Latin languages- then you get to his English and it's heavily New Jersey pre-school

[softlypaintedseafoam]

your love, like birth and death

synopsis. in which you hope a misguided prince realizes his affection for you is misplaced gratitude for you saving his life. a smitten prince can only propose once more.

pairing. gojou satoru x f!reader

word count. 3.1k | masterlist

content warning. faerie au, seelie prince!gojou, banshee!reader (afab), mentions of pregnancy, descriptions of blood and injuries, mutual pining but gojou's love is heavier, almost kisses

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

another repost of a favorite fic of mine to finally get something on the jjk masterlist i have set up. the title comes from a nizar qabbani poem, one of my favorites. anyone who knows me knows banshees are one of my favorite faeries, so this was a very fun piece for me to write!

This Court is dyed in the colors of Life, you note this particular morning.

Of course, this is something you’ve noted every morning since you’d been brought to this palace nearly a month ago. Yet you aren’t tired of noting it; the Court you have found yourself in is beautiful. From the ledge you lean against, it almost feels like you can see everything in Faerie.

You see the royal gardens, a mass of long grasses and moss dotted by colorful wild blooms. Overgrown and yet each flower seems right where it is supposed to be.

Beyond the walls of the castle, you see stretches and stretches of blue spruces and just beyond that a lake that almost seems purple. If this were a palace in Unseelie territory, you might have thought a kelpie lived in it.

Across the courtyard, souls living and deceased move as if in a dance. The living with their duties for the day, unaware of their ghoulish companions drifting about. Some have the ever permanent dribble of poisoned wines falling from their lips, others’ have blood seeping into their clothes from their torsos and others are missing limbs although they find no difficult in moving.

The sight of death faeries is one that gruesome. A mixture of life and death, the path you folk walk on until you return to nothing.

Neat yet unkempt, wild yet tame, expected yet unexpected ー that is the beauty of Faerie you’ve grown accustomed to in the centuries since your creation.

A beauty you rarely have the opportunity to appreciate when you often find yourself in the realm of humans, heralding death.

You wonder how much time has passed there since you’ve come to the Court of Reckoning. All while the skies have lost the traces of violet, peach and marigold that painted the dawn skies and have begun settling into a lovely shade of pastel blue. 

“I see I’ve finally found you,” when you look over your shoulder, it’s one of the prince’s advisors that greets you. The one with the long raven-black hair and brown eyes that remind you of humus-rich soil. You see the makings of a black tail with a tuft of fur peeking from his cloak and believe him to be some sort of phouka. “I almost thought for a moment our honored guest had disappeared,” his voice is light and airy, but he seems relieved to an extent. “I’m glad my concerns were proven untrue. Satoru would be quite unmanageable if that were the case.”

You shake your head, smiling politely, “I enjoy watching dawn turn into morning.” You look at the large bouquet in the phouka’s hands ー an assortment of lavender roses, baby’s breath and ferns.

“Our prince is too busy to deliver these himself this morning,” Suguru explains once they’ve caught your eye. You make sure to not let your fingers brush against one another when you reach for the blooms carefully. “Love at first sight, purity and fascination it is supposed to symbolize,” the advisor recounts the meaning of each bloom dutifully. He’s exasperated, you can tell. “Do you like them?”

“Yes, they’re quite lovely,” you believe so truly. Everyday since your arrival to the palace, the prince has had bouquet after bouquet gifted to you. Even if he cannot deliver them himself. “As were the rest I’ve received.”

“I’ve never seen Satoru so smitten,” you avoid the phouka’s gaze. “You should have met him when we were younger. He was adamant that he’d never be besotted with anyone lest he become a fool.” There’s a light pause as Suguru recalls the evening Satoru brought you to this palace. You who are cloaked in death and all of her colors. “Look at him now. He’s certainly caused a stir in his insistence you’ll be his queen. He’s a charming fool, though, I am sure.”

You prefer to think of the prince as a ridiculous fool but you cannot deny that he is charming. Dangerously so. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought him to be a gancanagh, a love-talker.

“Please marry me,” came the soft request as sky blue eyes stared into your very being. “And I’ll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise.”

You try not to remember the way your chest clenched in surprise. How you were so surprised it almost felt like your skin had warmed. It’s best not to focus on that memory at all.

It’s a ridiculous notion, a seelie prince in love with a banshee.

“The prince is simply confusing gratitude with love,” you return Suguru’s gaze with a polite smile. You hope he believes you. “He’ll realize that soon and I will leave this place.” You know that will bring palace staff a great sense of peace. If there is one thing you’ve learned in your long life as a banshee it is that even if the Folk spurn mortals and their blink-of-an-eye lifespans, there are many things faeries and humans have in common.

A fear of death is certainly one of them.

As such, to the vast majority of faeriekind, Death Folk like yourself are not looked upon favorably. Banshee and dullahans alike, you’re more like pests in their eyes. 

You banshee women who scream and keen if death is near. 

The dullahans who hear those screams and arrive when that final hour has approached.

Yes, you know how death fae are viewed. You’ve heard the whispers in the palace, how you are an omen of malevolence to come. That your kind are like roaches. Should one appear, others will soon follow suit.

This is why you’ve come to appreciate this private ledge on the castle walls that receives less foot traffic than the rest. You’d rather the staff of the palace have peace of mind in your absence while you live in the palace even if their prince insists you can venture the halls as much as you’d like.

Once the promised revel he hopes to throw in your honor comes to pass, you know the prince will lose his interest in you. Then you will leave and continue about your existence until you fade into nothing but a vague memory in his subconscious.

That’s what you truly hope when you see the prince in question later on in the day for lunch in the garden.

How his eyes light up and he stands to his feet as Cypress, a lovely pixie tasked with being your attendant, announces your arrival. How he doesn’t even wait for you to reach the table before he comes to meet you. You are unused to being treated like royalty and yet their prince insists that you are. “You won’t believe how the old hags go on and on,” he sighs, remnants of annoyance dancing in his tone but his voice is soft with you. Cypress takes the dismissal in stride. “I couldn’t even come see you for breakfast. Did you like the flowers?”

He wraps your hands in his own large palms, seemingly unaffected by your corpse-cold skin, as he has done every time you’ve met since your arrival. “Yes, they were beautiful,” your smile is small and doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You hope this ridiculous yet charming fool realizes that loving one such as yourself is more trouble than good. That his love truly is just misplaced gratitude. “You really don’t have to send me flowers every morning.”

The prince disregards your words the way water rolls off the back of a duck, “next time I’ll bring you the flowers myself.” He guides you to the table filled to the brim with food you aren’t accustomed to eating. “Will you tell me your favorites finally? I’ve been going out on a limb with my guesses.”

“My tastes in flowers are unique, to say the least,” maybe it’s your nature, but your favorites tend to circle around the prevailing theme of your kind. Lavender to give the dead peace in passing on, calendula for blessing and love. Dandelions in the seed head stage were quite popular with ghost children, still finding them just as amusing as they did when they were alive. “The flowers you send me are more than enough.” The prince pouts but he decides to let you skirt around his request once more. You bring focus back to the spread, “it looks like you’ve demanded everything in the kitchen.”

There are strawberry-and-whipped cream filled pastries, cold cut platters and buttery biscuits to name a few things. The tip of the iceberg of everything on the table.

“I wanted to make sure our bases were covered,” the prince grins, teeth as white as his hair. “I hope you like lavender chamomile, that’s today’s tea. I’ve never had it before.” He drops cube after cube of sugar into his cup, drizzles the contents with honey before finally pouring in a splash of cream.

You take your tea plain and enjoy the gentle fragrance. Lavender buds are just barely visible below the tea’s surface. You close your eyes as the flavor hits your tongue. It tastes as wonderful as it smells. “Yes, this is quite nice. I really like it.”

“Should we have it for tomorrow as well?” He’s too eager to curry your favor.

You open your eyes to dissuade him but your attention is instead drawn to a headless hob nearing your table. You’ve seen this hob before, skirting about the palace bitterly as he carries his head in his hands much like a dullahan. He’s old, even by fae standards, with a long beard. There’s no question as to how the man died, beheading. You hope it was quick.

His beady eyes glare at you with a quiet rage similar to how most fae spirits do. You wonder how long he has been like this, refusing to board the carriage of any dullahan that may come to collect him and bring him to the Otherworld.

You personally believe that faeries leave behind ghosts more than humans do.

It’s why you’ve often seen ghosts from a distance at revels, dancing from dawn til dusk even if they will not be perceived by the living. Even if they can no longer don the fancy dresswear they were able to dress in.

Time and time again, they will do this. Staunchly refusing death even after they’re already in its hold.

“Oh, is there a ghost with us?” The prince notes how your eyes dart between him and the space he perceives as empty. “What’s it saying?”

“Tell this lout that I sooner hope his rule is contemptuous and brings the Court to ruin!” The hob’s head seethes. “That his many days are fraught with danger! Gakuganji is my name and this is the curse I cast upon him!”

Folk can’t lie, but you you prefer not to relay the bitter message. “He hopes your rule is one that is,” you lick your lips and raise your cup to your lips. “Filled with exciting thrills,” not an exact lie. Perhaps to this radical prince, those sorts of threats are exciting. “He says his name is Gakuganji.”

“Exciting thrills, you say?” The prince barks in amusement, shoulders shaking with his laughter. “That doesn’t sound like the traitorous scoundrel I know. You don’t have to lie, he’s probably cursing me and my bloodline for generations to come as we speak.” The hob growls at the lackadaisical nonchalance of the elf. But it seems he has had his fill as he stomps off before he can hear more insult to his person.

“Gakuganji has lost his touch even in death,” the prince’s amused chuckles turn into light sighs “You wouldn’t have liked him very much when he was alive,” you’re sure you can agree with that much of the prince’s words. Gakuganji, as you now know him, has been one of the more unpleasant spirits in the palace. “He was very stuck in his ways. What’s it like, seeing ghosts all the time?”

Normal?

You can’t quite remember what it was like when you were a newly-made banshee and everything was new. Nor can you remember the life you once led as a human. You simply remember your death was a terrible, terrible thing. “It’s as normal to me as it’s normal for you not to see them,” you set your cup down. “If someone asked you what’s it like to see the blue sky everyday, it would be a strange question, correct?”

The prince takes in your words thoughtfully, not slighted in the least. “I guess that’s true,” he nods to himself. “I just wondered if it was something that took some getting used to.” The prince removes his darkened spectacles from the bridge of his nose. “I told you before I have pretty good eyes. I’m able to perceive a lot of things no one else can from mana to the shape of one’s soul. But the spirits of the deceased are exceptions to my eyes, it seems.”

“Your Highness,” you begin.

“Satoru,” the prince corrects you swiftly.

“Your Highness,” you insist. This boundary you won’t cross for yourself. “I’m not sure it’s really wise for you to tell me about your eyes. I’m not a member of this family or your closest allies.”

“But you will be,” he tells you as if he’s simply remarking on how pleasant the weather is. “I will become king of this Court and you’ll be by my side as my queen.” You’re quite sure that if his mother, the High Queen, has anything to say about it, she’d sooner relinquish her throne to a random nixie than allow a banshee to wed her son. “I trust you as much as I trust Suguru or Nanami.”

You wish he wouldn’t.

A Seelie prince and his banshee queen? That sounds like the start to a ballad meant to insult him.

It’s misplaced gratitude, not love. That’s what this prince feels for you. You tell him as such once again as you have everyday since you were brought here. “You’ll realize that soon, maybe even before the revel you plan for me,” you whisper ー no, you pray. “There will be another you yearn for and you’ll realize the difference.”

The prince will fall deeply, truly, unapologetically in love with someone and he’ll discover the truth.

Perhaps it will be a lake maiden of Spring whose dreadlocks drip with water droplets that fall onto dewy cinnamon-brown skin. Who sings of the beautiful red and pink of the roses and of love.

Or maybe it will be a selkie man who doesn’t mind living far from the sea as he’s brought a love as deep as the ocean along with him. Whose coat is donned in scars and scratches from battles past, a reflection of his form as a seal.

Or maybe he can grow enraptured with his phouka advisor whom he trusts more than anyone in this life.

Someone dyed in Life’s colors.

Someone beautiful.

When that time comes, you’ll be happy for him. Maybe then the ache that resonates through your heart and bones will end.

The prince isn’t the only fool here, you admit reluctantly. You’re just as much, if not more so. But this feeling will come to pass, “this is just gratitude. Fascination. Not love.”

“You think I don’t love you?” The prince asks quietly, resting his chin on his palm as he looks at you. He says he has good eyes, he wonder what you look like to him through them. You who once was dyed in Life’s colors but have since become painted over by Death’s brush.

Death folk with death folk.

Life folk with life folk.

“I know you don’t,” he can’t. You can’t allow either of yourselves to do so. “A banshee by your side as queen,” you want it sound ridiculous to both of your ears. “It’s absurd.”

There are no rules that state your union is forbidden, this you know. But the laws of nature are simple. Life and Death co-exist separately, unable to exist without one another. But there has never been a tale where the two joined together as one.

Maybe you’re just too scared to be the first.

“I want the woman that I love by my side as queen,” the prince replies smoothly. “Your species is of little importance to me. All that matters is that my love is returned in full. Please, allow me to be yours,” he reaches for your hand once more, stepping out of his chair in favor of sitting on bended knee. “More than anyone has or ever will, I love you. This is an unwavering truth.”

The blood of the love-talker must run through his veins. Why else do you feel like this? Your desire for this prince will eat away at you until you become undone and return to nothing. “You’re a prince. It’s the duty of the royal family to provide heirs,” even the smallest sprite knows this to be fact. “Are you asking me to stay with you and have them?”

“Please have my children,” azure stares seriously into your pale eyes that were once [color] when you were human.

Your skin feels warm at his unabashed request.

Gojou Satoru has no shame, that you have become sure of in the near month of knowing one another.

He had no shame when he asked you to be his bride when you first met.

There was no shame to be found when he insisted that you stay in the palace as an honored guest he owes his life to.

Nor is there any shame to be found in him now when he cups your cheek in his furnace hot hands to guide your lips down to his, long white lashes fluttering shut.

I shouldn’t, your mind screeches at you. I shouldn’t allow us to get even one millimeter closer. Yet you make no move to do so as your lips are just barely touching whenー

“Your Highness, your mother is requesting you,” Nanami’s mild-mannered drawl saves you at the last minute.

You jerk back into your chair in relief, heart pounding. You aren’t able to make eye contact with anyone, least of all the overworked horned elf-kobold hybrid brought to receive the Gojou heir.

The prince clicks his tongue in annoyance, glaring over his shoulder at the advisor, “she can’t wait? We haven’t even begun eating yet.”

Nanami looks just as annoyed to be there, “the faster you heed her call, the quicker you can go back to fawning after the object of your desires.” He tells his prince. “And the faster I can get back to resting.”

The prince with snow-white hair clicks his tongue once more, but he doesn’t argue against it. He turns to you regretfully, “I’ll have to leave again. Perhaps we’ll have more time together at dinner,” you hope the wait for dinner is longer still. You know the prince hopes the time passes as quickly as he can blink.

Warm lips press against the back of your hand, lingering for five seconds longer than they should.

The bones of your hands ache.

[celerydays]

long time no see…

Hey, hi, hello~

I don't know if anyone is still around this little blog o' mine or if I'm just showing up suddenly on the dash and whoever is seeing this might not recall ever even following me lol.

But – if you remember me or not – I'm just dropping by to say that I've missed you and that I truly hope you're doing well 🫂💗

I...have not been doing so well. But I've been working on it.

In a way, it's been healing to reshape my approach to things like journaling and capturing photos. I've been generally taking the time to develop a practice in documenting daily life, the people I care about, the places we visit, and all the random little moments in between with more intentionality and care.

(tw: grief and loss/death under cut)

We lost my mother very suddenly last November – and things have been unbearably hard the last few months.

In a lot of ways, 2024 was one of the best years: my partner and I traveled to Japan for the first time ever, my family had a small reunion in our hometown to watch the total solar eclipse together, my best friends got married, and we went on so many amazing trips and had the type of outings that made me so inspired, optimistic, and excited about life and the future.

But in so many other ways, it was also one of the worst years I've had in a long time: starting with a hard-learned (but perhaps overdue) firsthand lesson on how scary and mean the internet can be, followed by losing both my grandfather in the spring and then my mother just before the winter holidays.

I'm not particularly good when it comes to emotions– forget about even processing grief or putting into any sort of meaningful words how it all feels. But I guess all of this has made me shift my mindset when it comes to wanting to just...remember. To not forget.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through journaling...

I had always journaled in some way or another all my life, but I only really started considering it a serious practice and hobby sometime around 2020. But I had lost my way with it in recent years, treating it solely as some kind of aesthetic-only venture, and only dedicating the time if I knew that I could make it "pretty" and "palatable for sharing".

And so, many entries were missed; days and weeks lost to fuzzy recollection, months bled into each other, and little moments only existed as vague and passing snapshots on my phone gallery (if I even remembered to take a photo).

But I now wish I had just written it down; whatever it was – big, small, angry, sad, happy – just wrote it all down. It didn't have to be an aesthetically collaged spread or artful doodle or drawing. I wish I had documented some of the last times I had seen or spoken with my mother; what she had said, did, or how she reacted to silly news or quips I told her. I barely remember anything even just from the last year.

So now I write it all down, day after day: I'll write what's on my mind, what we did before, what I'm doing currently, or if someone calls or my partner walks in and tells me something that has me reacting in the moment I'll jot down a little "omg!!" or "lol" or "holy shit" next to whatever they said or did.

If I get little scraps from the day – receipts, tags, tickets, wrappers – I'll paste it in wherever it happens to fit in my journal, with a little note of the date or what the outing was. And every so often, I'll print out photos to paste in with notes relating back to past entries or junk journal spreads.

Is always pretty? No. Is it always even chronological? No. Does all of it always make sense? No. But I love every page so, so much more than anything I had carefully curated before in my previous journals.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through photos...

I had once carried a camera with me everywhere before phone cameras became decent enough that I didn't feel the need to have a dedicated tool for just taking pictures anymore.

It wasn't until we were all looking through our collective family photos to use for my mother's memorial service and headstone that it hit me that I just don't take as many pictures as I used to– or if I did, they just don't compare to the ones that I used to take years ago when I did carry a camera with me on every outing and trip.

We ended up choosing a photo of her that I had taken on my once-beloved dSLR camera I used to haul around with me almost 10 years ago; she was smiling, strong, radiant, beautiful– and it was just a random moment I took my camera out in a Taiwan salon while she was waiting as my sister and I were both getting our hair done for our cousin's wedding.

A bit indescribable – and not even something I realized was missing – but there's something about having an actual camera on hand that pushes me to take more photos, and somehow better and more mindful photos at that.

And so I made the decision to invest in a new camera. An absolute necessity to take photos? No, of course not; I do still have my phone camera after all. But they say (apparently) that "the best camera is the one that you actually use"– and I was most definitely not using my phone as much as I could have been.

This new camera though? Only time will truly tell, but the past has shown that I've worked better with a dedicated camera on hand and already I can't begin to explain the difference it's made in the last week alone since I picked up the habit of carrying a camera around with me again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

This was a crazy long post that sort of got away from me. Not sure where I want to go from here – I guess I just want to say that if you ever felt called to document your life in some way, it's never too late to start; you'll only wish that you had begun sooner.

If you're still here– I love you. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

And thank you for reading along with my incredibly longwinded life update of what was essentially just "I'm grieving so I started journaling more and also bought a camera" lol.

💗

[glowettee]

the secret to taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖°

hey lovelies! mindy heree <3

for this post i'm superrr excited to share a guide on taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖° trust me, i know how overwhelming it can get when it feels like you're stuck in the middle of endless textbooks and dry lecture slides (honestly, we all have those days). so, let's transform your note taking into something delightful, empowering, and totally reflective of your unique self.

✧ finding your vibe first things first, bestie: the key here is to make your notes feel personal and inspiring. rather than sticking to a rigid system, i suggest mixing a little structure with a whole lot of creativity. here are some steps to help you set up your perfect note taking vibe:

choose your medium: even if it’s a cute pastel notebook, sticky notes, or a digital app with fun themes, pick something that sparks joy and invites you to open it up. i personally love notion + remnote + coda

establish sections: break your notes into clear sections. introduction, main points, and summary. this not only boosts organization but also gives you a gratifying sense of progress every time you finish a page.

add your signature touch: doodles, small illustrations, or even a decorative border can make a note feel less like a chore and more like a mini art project. i love using aesthetic symbols for my digital notes <3

✧ creating a study ritual i believe that great notes come from a relaxed and focused mind. try integrating these rituals into your study sessions to set a positive tone, this is really important if you want to make note-taking fun:

begin with a short breathing exercise or a moment of gratitude (think of it as your pre-study pep talk).

play some light instrumental music or your favorite lo-fi beats, or playlist. something to keep your mind in a creative zone without distractions. (i have a great playlist i made that i use for tackling assignments here: 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀! <3)

grab your favorite beverage (i’m a fan of herbal tea or a cute iced coffee) and make sure you're comfortable. a little self-care goes a long way!

✧ structuring your notes for clarity a well-organized layout makes reviewing notes less daunting and more interactive. and obviously so much more fun, consider using this format for a balanced + demureee approach:

start with a title and date: it grounds your notes and gives you a quick reference.

write a brief summary of the topic: in your own words, capture the essence of what you’re about to learn. just summarize it as best as possible

list key points: use bullet points, numbered lists, or even headers for different subtopics. tip: use cute symbols for bullet points

highlight examples: it can be a quote, a definition, or an application concept, mark these with a star or a cute icon.

close with a reflection: jot down any questions, what you found most interesting, or even a mini action item related to the topic. this is your space for self-talk and reflection.

✧ turning notes into interactive canvases (cause we need it) notes aren’t meant to be static pages floating in an endless binder. make them interactive to truly boost your study sessions:

include thought-provoking questions: ask yourself things like “what would elle woods do?” (lol, we love her <3) or “how does this connect with real life?” to spark critical thinking.

add mini quizzes: at the end of each section, write one or two questions that challenge you to recall key points.

leave room for updates: as you learn more, come back and add extra notes, doodles, or even inspirational stickers (yes, just like in a scrapbook!).

✧ personal tips from mindy because i want you to shine in every note you take, here are my totally secret, fun tips to elevate your note routine:

secret tip #1: color with purpose choose a color palette that not only looks cute but also maps out different themes in your subject. use one color for definitions, another for examples, and maybe a sparkly tone for key takeaways. over time, these colors will trigger your memory (i promise, it really works!).

secret tip #2: integrate affirmations studying can be stressful sometimes, so why not lace your notes with a few tender affirmations? write a quick pep talk (like “i got this, bestie” or “every detail counts”) in a corner. it might seem small, but these little lines can boost your confidence when you need it most. and it's just so freaking cute <3 affirmations from you to you, is like a love letter to yourself, so just try it

secret tip #3: try mind mapping if you’re more of a visual learner, create mind maps instead of linear notes. start with the main topic in the center and branch out with related ideas and details. this not only makes your notes dynamic but also helps you see connections between concepts (ever notice how some subjects just click with a visual flow?).

secret tip #4: use digital tools creatively if you’re leaning towards digital note taking, like me, experiment with apps that support drawing, voice notes, and even embedded links. add images that resonate with the topic or short videos for a quick concept refresher. making your digital notebook interactive can really keep boredom at bay.

secret tip #5: schedule weekly note reviews set aside a bit of time every week to revisit your notes. treat it as a mini self-study session where you update, add reflections, or even reorganize sections for clarity. this habit not only reinforces your learning but also lets you see your own progress over time, like looking back on how far you’ve come.

✧ action items for the week (it's homework timeee) to wrap things up, here are a few steps to try:

pick one class or topic this week and redo your notes using one or two of these tips (maybe add a mind map or a quick quiz).

experiment with color coding: choose colors that resonate with you and assign them to key points or sections.

schedule a 10-minute review session at the end of the week to refresh and reflect on your notes.

share your progress with a friend or even a study group to celebrate little victories. accountability can boost your motivation!

note: note taking is a creative process that should feel as refreshing and inspiring as a new day. keep experimenting until you find what truly works for you. i hope these tips help you get excited about every page you write on.

xoxo, mindy

I made this amazzinggg playlist (as mentioned earlier in the post) and its specifically made to help you complete homework + assignments. i curated it to make sure its soft music to help you focus <3 love from mindyyy 🩷

don't forget, if you need personal advice, submit it here and i'll answer it as a detailed tumblr blog post <3: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

[immakuronaakuma]

Long form deconstruction is one of the most bs excuses I’ve seen. I haven’t seen many deconstructions, but the few I’ve seen are notably short and get their point across. Madoka Magica, for all its faults, has the one saving grace that it’s 1 season of 12 episodes and, hey, even if you take the plunge and watch 12 episodes in a row of the most agonizing, blatantly sexist 24 minutes of your life, you don’t have to watch the movies (two of them are just recaps of the show and the other two are about as connected and respectful of the character’s writing about as much as the average writer for a Magical Girl deconstruction showing any respect for a woman, but to be fair, if you’re willing to watch that much Madoka, you either genuinely like it or you’re just a masochist).

AND THAT’S JUST A SHOW MADE FOR GUYS WHO WANT TO WATCH MG SHOWS BUT ARE OVERLY INSECURE ABOUT BEING MADE FUN OF BY EQUALLY PATHETIC GUYS. Miraculous has gone on for around 10 years, which is a long time to be doing fuck all and even worse when the children watching and growing up with it aren’t being made aware that the role model protagonist is actually a bad person.

But frankly, I doubt that that was the idea. I feel like this is just another “the writers were browsing the internet one day and decided to steal something from the fandom to boost ratings” trick, just like with Chat Blanc, and the akumatized Marinette tease, and every single time they teased the possibility of Marinette and Adrien getting 5 inches closer to each other.

The key problem is that when a good show makes a nod to its fandom, it’s usually well written or kinda funny or sweet, like Alex Hirsch referencing ‘Grunkle Stunkle Wins the Funkle Bunkle’, but when a bad show like Miraculous does it, it’s so obvious the writers are cloying for views and attention and doing so by referencing stuff the fandom made. The attempt is pathetic and “ridiculous, utterly ridiculous”.

So there's a strange "defense" of Miraculous I've seen crop up on occasion. The idea that everything wrong about the Lovesquare powerdynamic is deliberate and will all be explored next season (lets put aside that this defense has been cropping up for 3 seasons now). The claim that Soon(TM), the writers are gonna make the characters face the concequences and explore the fallout of the entire jenga-tower of BS they've been "carefully" setting up all along... Which... isnt a defense I vibe with, cause it fundamentally boils down to "its not a Kids Rolemodel Show, its a deconstruction of a Kids Rolemodel Show". It's a defence that would place Marinette alongside Tyler Durden, Walter White and Rick Sanchez in the "you werent supposed to relate to them" pantheon. And while i think there are plenty of reasons that deconstruction is a usefull tool (even if i hate the dime-a-dozen "Childrens Fairytale but its depression" and "Superman, but psycho"' decon-stories out there). I'd argue 'Kids Rolemodel Show' is the one genre that should never be deconstructed, or at least not in the slow-burn,long-form way the people arguing this claim the show to be doing. And i hold that stance for one simple two-part reason: Poe's law, and the fact that the deconstructed genre is aimed at an audience with absolute zero media-literacy. (reminder: "5-6 year old kids" is the one audience where that is not an insult, simply a statement of fact.) A show aimed deconstructing a genre with an audience for whom it may actually be their first big piece of media is legitimately dangerous. Because there is no way a 5 year old can be expected to tell "deconstruction of a formulaic kids cartoon" from "Formulaic kids cartoon". The idea that "they've been making Marinette into a bad example deliberately and are going to reveal the entire show to have been a carefull ruse in season 6/7" is supposed to be a defense? Its frankly absurd. A 6 year kid who watched the show when it first aired and idolised Ladybug, could be old enough to drink by the time S6 reveals she was supposed to be a bad example. A little girl who based her relationships on the way Mari pursues romance would have a restraining order by the time the show indends to pull this twist. And some of y'all are claiming that "actually its a long-form deconstruction" is a defense? I legit don't get y'all.

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think Tim and Dick would deal with going to this specific: Bar/cafe/coffee/candy shop to buy something just to have the excuse to see another customer they started crushing on after a conversation the first time they went there and at some point down the line after asking this customer s/o out, they find s/o’s stash of goodies from the place in a draw in the kitchen at s/o place and s/o walks in on this “I forgot about those in there. I needed an excuse to talk to you”?

A/N: The temptation to write a full out fic for Tim was so real. 😭😂Honestly, this is by far the cutest request I've gotten

Dick:

The original purpose of going to the animal cafe in Bludhaven with Damian was so he could get the teen off his case. For ten days, he would come and terrorize him every night in an act of revenge for all the crap he was given by the whole family for getting grounded. Yes, as the eldest sibling he shouldn't have teased him so much but come on. The teen ran around Gotham, taking down each criminal while holding the giant Bat Signal in its lit state. How could he not? 

Promising to take him there for a whole week, it was on the first day of the seven he met you and the gray rabbit who would eventually become his wingman in winning you over. Resembling Haley, it was as if the rabbit knew the two of you were meant to be when the small thing hopped from you to him, then turning his head towards you to beck you over so Dick could get guided on how to hold and properly pet him. Every day, the rabbit would do this, leading the two of you to get closer to one another where soon, it started to come as natural for him to walk up and sit next to you. 

He knew he was completely hooked as Damian had once come up and whispered with disdain how he was “ogling” you, to which he still argues he was admiring. It was what led to him to start bringing Haley to the cafe on his days-off, smiling as he always saw you with the same fluffy, gray rabbit in your lap, munching on a carrot whenever he entered the shop. All to take a chance and worm his way into your heart.

Now he’s happily living with you under the same roof. Along with becoming Haley’s other parent,  you’ve been helping him get situated with the newly adopted rabbit he saved during his last mission (though he has yet to bring up that the rabbit was actually illegally acquired and was formerly used to energize a bio weapon). 

For right now, he’s helping you find your library card, scorching the whole unit from bathroom to the living room. 

“Did you check your desk yet?”

“No, I didn’t get that far!” 

While you go through the dresser, he stands behind you and goes through your desk. Keys, notepads, paper clips, oh wait. Maybe? Pulling a card out from between your notebooks, he opens his mouth to tell you he may have found it only to stop from recognizing the logo and the date written on it. 

“Did you find it, Dick?” You ask when you don’t hear any shuffling from him for a while. 

“No. But,” he waves the card at you as you turn to face him, “I didn’t know you had a crush on me for that long.” 

His smirk stretches wider into a grin, gleefully watching your confusion and frustration merging into horror as it registers what exactly he’s holding. 

“I… completely forgot I left that there.”  Your voice barely above a whisper to which he nearly tells you it’s fine since he got you to flush from head to toe. 

Instead, he takes a step forward, his fingers gingerly wrap around your wrist before pulling you towards him. Nuzzling his cheek into your hair, he occasionally lifts his head up and presses lips on your forehead, nose, and cheeks.

“Cute”, “precious”, and “I love you”s are what he says in between each one before planting one last kiss on your lips. 

He chuckles from the random noise you make when you duck down to hide your embarrassment. Then sighs in content, words unable to express how he’s fallen head over heels for you all over again.

Tim:

The day he first met and had a crush on you was definitely a memorable one. It started as two random, sleep-deprived students standing in line at the only coffee shop closest to campus. Until he, his sleep deprived mind, and caffeine withdrawal spilled his coffee onto you as soon as he got it off the counter. Great first impression he left as you both went into full out panic, you trying to tell him it was fine while he kept apologizing and promised to, at least, pay for your drink. 

He still cringes at the moment, especially when he later found out once he was on friendlier terms with you, that you were more upset that it was your favorite shirt that had gotten ruined. Your Red Robin shirt to be exact. But now looking back, had it not happened he would’ve never gotten your number, nonetheless talked to you. It would’ve become another normal day in his life without the person who currently gives him joy in his life.

He lost track of how many times he went to that coffee shop just so he could bump and get closer to you.  For a while, coffee became his go to for caffeine when Babs had asked once why he was pouring the coffee from her coffee pot rather than drinking his usual energy drink during a Batfam meeting. 

As the saying goes, hard work pays off. Currently, he’s helping you pack so you could move to what you affectionately call his “dingy old” boat to which has upgraded to becoming somewhat habitable after you visited him more and helped organize his space and belongings. 

“Hey, did you pack your stuff in the drawers?”

He picks up the word “no” coming from the bedroom. Giving you the heads up he was going to start working there, he grabs another empty box and continues to open the drawers in the kitchen. Nothing stands out, the typical utensils organized in their respective holders until his hand nudges onto something in the very back corner that holds your silverware. 

A tiny smile dances on his lips as he pulls out and recognizes your stack of punch cards to the coffee shop the two of you now frequently go to together. You did mention you always liked that place long before the two of you dated. Never thought it was this much. Giving it a good look, he starts considering where he should place it since it was obvious that you were keeping them until the date on the very top card registers in his head. 

“Tim? What are you doing? Do you know how many times I called you-”

His fingertips matching the same red as his neck and face, he wordlessly turns towards you. Slowly your face starts turning the same color, your lips in the shape of a tiny “o” from recognizing what exactly he was holding and what mostly just occurred.  

“You… liked me?” He couldn’t manage uttering the “for that long” part out loud. Thankfully, and another reason why he loves you, you’re quick to catch on what he means as you start looking everywhere but him. 

“Y-Yeah.” It comes out so softly yet he can hear it loud and clear. “I, um, needed an excuse to see you again.” 

He doesn’t know what expression he’s making when he walks up to you. Nor did he have any thoughts in general. His head is in the clouds  right now, finding out how much he’s loved back that makes him love you even more. Adore you even more. Softly he brushes stray hair away from your face. 

“I love you.”

And he leans forward to seal his words in both your and his heart.

[lilysworldofjoy]

I just saw those Tisha hcs and.. omg I can't stop thinking of scenarios where Vee just wrecks Tisha. Could you write a fanfic off of Ler Vee and Lee Tisha? Kind of like a payback fic? Your honor I love them

"How you like that, huh?" (Dandy's World tickle fic)

A/N: Yes.

Plot: Vee and Tisha are made to go on a run together due to a random arrangement. That's where Vee discovers that Tisha is ticklish. Cue the shenanigans.

~🧼📺~

Another day, another run. And of all toons to be paired with, it's that green television.

Astro would've been nice. Sprout would've been...eh. Bobette would be a solid pick, and so would Pebble. And she would've loved to go with Shelly, but change is nice every once in a while.

...Or that she thinks.

Tisha just got off from cleaning, and went off to do the run of the day. And she had to go with a main character, so why not. It was chosen randomly and yup, that's how they got here.

She stepped inside, looked at the toon inside, and acknowledged her situation.

Not a word was exchanged between the tissue box and Vee as the elevator went down to the first floor.

"So."

Tisha looked at Vee, who just said that. "Yes?"

"Let's just get this over with."

"...Agreed."

Once that elevator opened, each toon got off to do their task: do machines and escape from Twisteds. Vee did a mic check to observe the Twisteds in the area.

No Twisteds in sight. Huh, weird. A sigh came out from Tisha, as they both left the elevator.

Then Vee's microphone accidentally scraped against Tisha's side, causing a flinch and a giggle.

Vee, of course, noticed this movement. Her antennae perked up and she looked at Tisha.

"Don't you DARE." The tissue box said.

The green TV didn't think much at first, but when she finally noticed her reaction, a smirk came to her face. Oho, she was going to have fun with this.

Without an ounce of hesitation, she pounced, aiming directly for her sides. Vee landed right on top of Tisha, her hands moving at her sides. And it seems that the tissue box is holding it in—or at least trying to.

"What's wrong, Tish? Ticklish?~"

Upon those words, Tisha pounded her fist on Vee's chest in protest, as in a way to say 'No! Of course not', but we all know the truth anyways. She attempted to kick Vee away, but to no avail.

"Oh no no no, you're not getting out of this one, darling~"

She started kicking even more, but Vee was stronger, strengthening her grip and managing to weaken Tisha's protests by a bit. And that's when Vee dropped one bomb of a tease.

"Awwe, you're soo much fun to tickle! That's adorable~ You're sooooooo adorable~"

This kept on until it broke the tissue box.

"PFFF—NOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!"

Tisha went into instant hysterics, endlessly kicking and squirming before Vee. And Vee? She was having a field day. "Ha. How you like that, huh?~"

"SHUHUT UHUHUP!"

Figures. She makes people crack FAST.

With a devious glint in her eye, Vee decided to up the ante and go to her stomach, slithering her fingers between it and her sides and causing a shriek from the tissue box. She used one of her hands to restrain Tisha's arms, making sure she doesn't move.

"Now you're less squirmy. Which means I can do this~" Vee goes on to bury her fingers on Tisha with slow deliberate strokes, causing Tisha to squirm due to the cold temperature of her fingers.

And to worsen things, she wrapped her mic around her stomach, wiggling it with deadly precision and a smirk. Because of this, the tissue box only kicked harder.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OKAY OKAHAY! STAHAAP!"

Vee didn't let up and only tickled harder, but it wasn't until a bit later (which felt like hours for Tisha) that she finally relented, letting the tissue box go at last.

After they both rose from the ground and Tisha regained her composure, the last words she received from the tissue box were: "Never do that again."

Tisha would go on to leave and find a machine as Vee smirked. She rolled an eye, albeit playfully unlike the other times.

Vee would 100% do that again.

~🧼📺~