#and it makes me want to pick up sewing again so i can make them their own lil special outfits🥺

[kageygreye-skies]

this was not supposed to be a doll tumblr but dolls (specifically the lines that i care about) have moved from hyperfixation to special interest and they’re what i think abt 80% of the time my brain is not focused on important tasks LOL

i mean i have always liked dolls (when i was younger my favorites were lalaloopsys. cant believe i got rid of them, i had so many and i miss them everyday now😥) i just appreciate the process of bringing a doll into fruition so much more now.

but,, i promise i like other things,,,, like art! even tho all ive been drawing lately are doll faces in order to be more confident in my outcomes when i start customizing dolls 😅

[pastellmochi]

[yanderefarm]

slasher!reader x fanboy!yandere

cw;; gore, blood, cannibalism, murder, animal violence mentioned

can u tell i love slashers... i wanna be a hot slasher monster thats the gender goal.

you're a local legend in the area, a modern myth to scare people away from the old slaughter house. most people don't actually believe you exist but there isn't an insignificant amount of people who never make it back from that "haunted" location.

you're no ghost, no you're very real. you live in the slaughter house where you do your "work". you actually ship out a decent amount of actual meat but only to specific customers who don't ask questions. some of them buy your premium meats but mostly you're just butchering cows and pigs. it's tedious work, nothing is as satisfying as cutting into a screaming crying human body.

you're so excited when another group of young adults come to visit. they're doing a test of courage. you're gonna make them really prove themselves tonight. there's only about 6 of them and from that you can only see 3 who's meat will actually sell. you silently plan to keep two as livestock to plump up and leave the 6th to go back and spread your myth farther.

it's a long night. humans don't like dying, they fight and scratch every step of the process. you've gotten two of the ones with the best meat and you've put them in your meat locker. one of the worthless ones is bleeding out with your hand in their hair. the remaining meats have given you a pretty nasty wound in your side and the pain is pissing you off. you don't even get to throw this worthless meat in the freezer before it's dead. annoying. you let go of its hair, your foot crushing it's arm as you drag yourself further.

you smell gasoline when your body finally gives against one of the walls. you can guess that those stupid meat bags are going to set fire to all your hard work. if only they hadn't gotten the drop on you. you hold your hand over the cut as you accept your fiery fate. but it doesn't come.

you hear footsteps, timid footsteps. you lull your head in the direction of them and you see the last premium meat standing there in front of you.

"...you... you're hurt." he drops next to you and tepidly reaches his hand towards your wound. you remove your hand letting it fall limp next to you. he immediately pulls out a small sewing kit.

"this is going to be uncomfortable but please bear with it." he threaded a needle and began the painful process of sewing up the gash.

you watched his hands move in silence, only flinching a few times from the pain. the boy in front of you had his brows furrowed and his tongue slightly out as he focused intensely on patching you up. it was so curious you couldn't stop staring at him. he tied it off and cut the excess string.

"i should kill you now." you picked your weapon off the ground next to you. the meat swallowed hard.

"if.. if you want... but can I make a request?" his face was red.

"i don't usually take requests.. but i suppose since you helped me out."

he swallowed again before looking up into your eyes. "i.. i don't want you to sell me. please eat me yourself!"

[ameliathornromance]

After the many congratulations, the hard clasps on the back and the exhausting night was over, your Orc boyfriend held his child in his arms, while you fell deeper into well deserved sleep.

When you’d told him you were pregnant, it had shocked him. He didn’t think that anything would come of your time together, let alone a baby. It’s not that he didn’t love you, he did, would do anything for you.

He thought since you two were different kinds of beings, there was a very slim chance that the pair of you would have a child.

You’d told him with tears in your eyes, worried about how he'd react. Would he start shouting? Get angry with you over something you had no control over?

But none of that had happened. Instead, he had taken your hands in his and assured you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

After getting over the shock of the initial news, your Orc began to make preparations for the baby.

He chopped wood and began to construct a cradle. He sought out animals and skinned them to make blankets, bought some of the best fabric he could find to make clothes from.

Since you were going to be doing the main job of carrying and having the baby, he decided he was going to do all the preparation for when the baby is born.

You had asked to help him, but your Orc boyfriend scolded you for even asking. “Get back into bed, you’re not going to do any hard labour, you’re already doing enough as it is.”

“It's not like I'm a glass orniment! I want to do something to help!” You’d protested. “I can’t let you do all this while I put my feet up.”

Sighing, your Orc had given you some fabric, needle and thread. He was good at manual labour, half of keeping the camp fed and moving meant being good with your hands.

But more delicate work like sewing? He was useless. Some Orcs in the camp had a knack for it. But every time your boyfriend picked up a needle and threat, his thick fingers would bend the metal pin, thus rendering it useless.

So, for making clothes, he left that up to you.

As your stomach expanded, he finished working on important things like cribs and toys, he found himself with nothing to do.

The other Orcs had laid him off from doing any other kinds of work in the camp, so he could spend more time with you, so he resigned himself to watching you sew.

He found it so peaceful to watch you. Your eyes so concentrated on the fabric and thread in front of you, it was hard not to gawk at you as you worked.

Your Orc had heard about pregnancy glows in human women, and boy did you have one. But glow was the wrong word to describe it, he thought, you raidiated.

“You’re staring at me again,” you’d smiled one evening.

The Orc who laid on the side of his bed, hand propping up his head, gave a dreamy smile. “How can I not? You look gorgeous.”

You’d tried to hide your smile, embarrassed. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of Goddess.”

“Well would I be wrong for thinking that?” He asked, “everyone stares at you now, it would be hard not to think that of you from how the rest of the camp acts.”

Apart from himself, everyone in the camp was excited to meet your baby. When the news first began to spread through the camp, the Orc women had tossed out your boyfriend out of the tent. They all crowded around you, making it difficult for him to even get a look at what they were saying to you.

When he’d tried to protest, get back to you, they’d all squawked at him to leave you and them alone. When he was finally allowed back in, you were grinning from ear to ear, while one of the Orc woman stayed by your side.

He was glad that the women were around when he wasn't. As much as he would like to have shared an understanding with your plight, there was no way he could.

So he was happy that the other women of the camp were there to support you.

“What did they talk to you about when they threw me out that night?” Your boyfriend asked as you examined your sewing progress.

You narrowed your eyes at the small shirt in front of you. You answered, “they all came in to say that if I needed anything, I could call on them. They’d drop everything they were doing to come and help me. Oh, and that one of them would always be around to help if something started to happen.”

Taking your eyes off your sewing, you looked at him and placed an absent-minded hand on your stomach. “One of them said it looks like the baby is due any day now.” You told him, “you’ll be around, won’t you?”

“Of course I will.” Your boyfriend assured. “I wouldn’t miss the birth of my baby for the world.”

And for the next couple of days, he stayed in the camp. All the other Orcs waited as well, like it was their child that they were expecting.

Your water broke a few hours after your Orc had gone to drink with his others. They were in the middle of discussing who would win between a Werewolf and a Vampire, when one of the Orc women rushed over.

She gave your boyfriend a hard smack on the back of the head, which made your boyfriend spat out his drink and glowered at her. “What the hell was that for?!”

“Can’t you hear that!?” She snapped at him.

Silence filled the air, before being punctuating by a wail. Your wail.

He was on his feet instantly, face flushing. When had it happened? And why didn’t he hear it?!

“Idiot can’t even hear the birth of his own baby.” His attacker had breathed indignantly. She rounded on the rest of the Orcs, who were all looking sheepishly at her, like they were expecting to be hit as well. But she commanded, “go and get some warm water and blankets, all of you!”

They scattered like a group of scared rats as your boyfriend left them and went to his tent.

He found you hunched over, with the other women of the camp. Your Orc wanted to step in, to hold your hand, do something to help you, but at the look of one of the other women in the tent, he backed out and waited with baited breath outside his tent.

Other Orcs came forward to stay with him as he waited. “This has always been a women’s thing.” One of the older Orcs of the camp comforted him. “They don’t like having the fathers in there because they feel like it’s intimidating.”

He jerked his head to the entrance of your boyfriends tent. “She’s in safe hands, your woman. And we’re here for you too.” A few other Orcs who’d gathered around your boyfriend murmured in agreement.

It was agony to wait outside as you cried. Your Orc boyfriend had never felt so helpless to do anything to help you. It was like all the things he had done for the baby these past few months, were nothing compared to what you were doing at that moment.

He felt guilty for getting your pregnant in the first place.

But all that stopped when your shouts of pain stopped and were replaced by the infantile cries of new life.

All the Orcs around him tensed at the sound, your Boyfriend standing from his seat at the front of the tent. He wanted to go in, to see you and your child, but he worried about getting cursed out by the other Orcs inside.

After what seemed like an eternity, one of them opened the tent flap and beckoned him inside. He had gone in without a word to his others outside the tent.

But as he caught a glimpse of you, sweaty and exhausted in bed, he stopped dead in his tracks.

The other women in the tent looked at each other with knowing smiles as they rinsed their bloody hands in bowls of water. Some were folding up bloody towels, while another sat on the side of your bed. One woman checking your temperature with the back of their hand to your forehead.

They moved out of the way as your Orc approached you, who was completely transfixed by the bundle wrapped in furs and blankets in your arms. Your tired eyes darted away for only a second as you looked at him, “she’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

A lump in your boyfriends throat formed, “’she’?” He croaked.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again.

Your Boyfriend leaned in closer and put a hand over his mouth as he laid eyes on his baby girl for the first time.

She was a lot smaller than most other Orc babies he’d seen. At a quick glance, you might have mistaken her for being a human baby; But the child undeniably held Orcish features. Small tusks jutted out from her bottom lip, her skin was pale green like a lily pad. Her nose was human shaped, but upturned slightly. Her ears were more rounded than any other Orcs, clearly shown from her human heritage.

She was perfect.

“That’s my baby.” Your boyfriend said, stupidly.

You gave another nod as tears began to run down you cheeks. “Do you want to hold her?”

Your Boyfriend almost let out a cry as you asked. Gently passing over the bundle, your Orc held his child in his arms and allowed himself to cry. She weighed like nothing, quite different from Orc babies, who weighed a ton.

He looked at you as you settled back in the bed. “You are so amazing.” He sniffed. “Really. I mean it love.”

It didn’t seem like you could hear him though, as your eyes drifted shut and you fell asleep.

Your boyfriend hadn’t realised that the women were still at the front of the tent, watching. They rushed him up, as they whispered to him, “she needs rest. Babies fine, for the moment, so go and show her off.”

The Orc had almost completely forgotten about the crowd of Orcs outside the tent as the women pushed him out. But as he exited, the whole crowd’s faces lit up like fireflies.

They all darted forward to get a look at your child, some clapping your Orc hard on the back as they congratulated him.

He felt as though he didn’t deserve it though, it’s not like he did all the heavy lifting during your pregnancy.

“Look at those tusks! The girls not even ten minutes out of the womb and they already look strong enough to rip through meat!”

“And her skin! If it weren’t for the tusks, you wouldn’t know she was one of us!”

“Oh but isn’t her face cute, look at those chubby cheeks.”

As their chatter got louder, your boyfriend pulled his daughter to his chest and shot them all a glare, “be quiet!” he hissed at them. He was hyper aware that you needed to rest at the moment and he was not about to let a group of excited Orcs wake you.

They all fell silent, some of them grinning. “Dad instincts are kicking in.” One of them whispered.

Dad. That’s what he was now, a dad.

Once the crowd had dispersed, it was early morning. Even though he hadn’t done anything but hold a baby in his arms, he still felt as though he may fall asleep at any moment.

But as he reentered the tent, took a seat on the chair beside your bed, he forced himself to stay awake, alert to keep an eye on the baby.

So long as he was alive, he would never allow any harm to come to you, or your daughter.

Even if it meant losing sleep over it.

Your Orc watched your back as you slept, his heart soaring as he realised that there was never anything he could do to repay you for this gift you had given him.

And honestly? He didn’t care. He would gladly spend the rest of his life indebted to such an amazing woman like you.

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Taglist <3

@sunndust @greenie-c

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice. 

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can. 

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there. 

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically. 

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood. 

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie. 

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty. 

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-” 

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-” 

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles. 

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word. 

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.” 

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home. 

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ giyu learns to crochet

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu decides its time to tell you how he feels.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. this is part two. or not, it really doesn’t matter if you read the first part. loved this idea bc i love crochet. currently making a giyuu amigurumi doll atm, so yay me ig

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. im so sorry for being gone for almost two months. i was burnt out. but i have lots of prompts / plot ideas written down and just have to finish them. also also!! season 4 was crazy, i loved every minute of it but that ending – im so not ready for the final arc. anyways, thank you for the support as usual, luv u besties

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. fluff. use of swear words (not a lot, but they are there). giyuu-centric. modern reader in kny. mentions of crochet and amigurumi. gender-neutral reader. also very poor dialogue probably, i avoid talking irl so yk. 1.9k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

first part (optional); giyuu has a crush

Giyuu is about to have a stroke. He’s alone in his room late at night. He should be sleeping, but he can't imagine doing so. The moon light is coming through his window and all he can do is stare at the crochet hook in his hand as his fingers remain still. He is hunched, hovering over a ball of yarn in his lap. He can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that heavily weighed on him because he really has no idea what he’s doing.

You had this habit of making him gifts. Cute little amigurumi things and it had become a habit of his waiting when you’ll show up with one just for him. They’re almost always an animal or some sea creature, maybe even a small plant that he has sitting on display in his room somewhere. They are always so adorable and tiny, always fitting in the palm of his hand. It's almost like clockwork at this point, and Giyuu is always so flattered to receive them.

He remembers the little tiny baby sea turtle you have made for him. Its flippers rested against the palms of his cupped hands; its eyes and lids sewed on so perfectly along with the rest of it. It’s so intricate, he almost thought it was real. He remembers bringing it up to his face, staring at it in its tiny face, because for some reason this time he really didn’t know how to act.

He remembers you giggling, quickly explaining that you really didn’t know what to make him this time – lies, you have so many patterns. You just care too much about his opinion and his likes. Honestly, you could make him anything you wanted and he would be happy.

❛ And then I thought, ‘well you are the Water Pillar after all’. And I thought the sea turtle was kinda cute too, so I wanted to make it for you. Now you have a little friend to keep you company on your mission! ❜

Now here he was, with little idea of what he was doing. A frustrated sigh left his lips. He began working the yarn along with the hook – all his movement completely hesitant and fumbling. It would be a lie to say that he had never been skillful with his hands; he is a swordsman after all. However, it was clear that he wasn’t as skillful as you regarding this, and it makes sense. He had never picked up any knitting or crochet hooks until tonight at this ungodly hour.

Sure, he could have just crafted a wooden figurine. It is something he vaguely knows how to do, and seems like a more appealing thought now, plus, he knows that you would love it either way. But all he wanted to do was something special. He wanted to convey his feelings to you through what you love doing the most and give you something that he knows you would like. And for about a moment he wonders if this is a good idea. Then decides that he doesn’t care anymore. This is going to make or break him. He procrastinated this long enough.

Though hours passed and Giyuu is shocked to consider it done. He hoped it was. He glances over at his window and the sun is barely over the horizon. And as much as Giyuu loves you, he can't do this again. No, that is also a lie. He would if you asked. But he couldn’t help but feel disgruntled. He didn’t even know what he made. It is some type of plushie. It has a big body with some stubby legs. Its arms are almost the length of it too, if not longer, making them seem like large floppy paws. Its head; he is unsure if it's too big as it’s the same size as the body, but it’s a bit too late now to do anything about it. He made small ears on the top, and added some type of embroidery to make the eyes – as no buttons seemed to look right to him. There was no nose or mouth either, because Giyuu couldn’t figure out how to add them without making it look worse than it already does.

He frowned at the finished product, before hanging his head. It was done, yes. But to him, he knows that he could have done a much better job. And the pang of disappointment didn’t help. Because surely you deserve something better than this crude attempt at a gift.

However, for some reason Giyuu was oddly excited. Maybe it was the ice cold water he almost drowned himself awake to. But he really didn’t pay it any mind. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with. He was afraid, so very afraid because this was the first time he was outwardly seeking your validation. But he was also anticipating the interaction. Because you were so nice. And he shouldn’t be afraid.

So here he was now, standing in front of you. And suddenly, he can't remember why he was so afraid in the first place. You looked so delightfully happy just like he had hoped. He watched as you took the plush from his hand, your fingers just barely brushing against his. And he felt his palms get clammy again. You were so delicate with it, and honestly, if you had asked Giyuu, perhaps you were a bit too delicate. He didn’t think that it deserved such care. He watched as you brushed your thumb over the soft yarn. Your eyes staring intently at it, and Giyuu couldn’t place the look you were giving.

“Giyuu, it’s adorable!” Your eyes sparked just a little bit when you looked back up at him. The plush is pressed against your chest right now. So softly, almost protectively and Giyuu actually can't believe it. Truly, he is in disbelief. You actually liked it? You really must’ve, because you’re going on about the plush; gushing over it and completely unfazed by any of its imperfections. You asked how he made it and when he had the time. It was nice, until you asked him why. And he got all nervous again.

Well… He responds. “You make me such nice things all the time. And I wanted to make you something as well. To show my appreciation.”

Oh! You are a little taken aback by that as a light blush starts to burn on your cheeks. You were definitely feeling the appreciation. You just never really anticipated Giyuu to make you something. Not because you thought he was incapable, or anything like that. You just… liked making things, and if that happened to be for Giyuu more than others you weren’t going to deny it. It made you happy to do so. And you never really expected anything in return. But for him to make you something, the gesture kind of made you feel special. It was so sweet!

“Of course, I’m glad you like it. You… mean a lot to me you know. Um…” He stops because he's a bit flush. He wants to confess so badly and he doesn’t understand; why is it so hard. Just say it. It's like you are waiting for him to – and you are – but you are so completely and utterly patient with him that sometimes he wished you weren’t. “Ngh, don’t look at me like that.”

You giggle softly. You can’t help it. Why is he so cute? “I’m sorry,” You say sincerely, still hugging the plush to your chest. “Please continue.”

His heart is beating out of his rib cage. He feels like he is going to die. He has never expressed his feelings so openly before and as much as he wants to say that he is uncomfortable, he's only half way there and he only needs to get the words out. He's been afraid of rejection for so long that, even deep down knowing the possibility of you loving him exists, he can’t help but worry about it. The words are on his tongue and at some point, he has to come out and say it.

“I… I love you.” Finally. “I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you. You don’t have to say or do anything, I just… I just wanted you to know.”

“You love me?” You had a big, stupid smile on your face, which made the question you had asked seem hopeful to him. If you had been home, you might have thought he was pulling a joke on you, not that he would know to assume that. And you, yourself are having a good time telling the small voice in the back of your head to fuck off because – yes, Giyuu Tomioka just confessed his love for you and you were not going to let the universe take it back.

He nodded, silent. The smallest, timid, smile pulled at his lips as he waited for you to continue. “Giyuu, I love you too. Actually, I..” you stopped before you started tripping over your words and let out a deep breath. Your grasp on the plush tightened, clutching it closer to your body in an attempt to ground yourself. “I… may have been in love with you for a while, too.”

He stares at you for a moment, another dumb look on his face. It's like the gears are turning in his mind. That yes, just like you had, are realizing this is all actually happening. And if he promptly pulls you into the softest, brain melting kiss you've ever had – that's between the two of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ✩

Of course, now it’s later and Giyuu is watching you show off the plush to the rest of the Hashira. You had grabbed his hand in a rush, so excited and happy. He let you tug him along, squeezing his hand so tight; never minding the clamminess. He watched as you shoved the crochet piece in Rengokus face, telling him with pride that Giyuu was the one that made it for you. ‘I see that,’ he says and lets out one of those joyous laughs, almost amused.

You tug him along, going from Hashira to Hashira. Giyuu vividly remembers you shouting at Shinazugawa from across the training grounds about ‘Look at what Giyuu made me! Suck it you fuck face’ before running off and taking him with you again. He remembers in the background the Wind Pillar shouting, something about how it was ‘Ugly as fuck’ and a few other things but Giyuu ignored it.

Others recognized the effort Giyuu put into it, much like Rengoku. He gets a ‘That's kinda flashy’ from Tengen, and surprisingly Shinobu didn’t really poke at him too much, but maybe that was because you were there. Mitsuri squeals about it. She thinks it’s the cutest thing she's ever seen, and Giyuu makes sure not to look at Obanai at all. Otherwise, the man might force Giyuu to teach him. Or force himself in between you and him to teach him, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he can handle that.

The afternoon passed by after that and you both ended up back at his estate, just like always. This time, you were much closer to him than usual, not that Giyuu minded. He watched from over your shoulder as you continued your own little crochet project. He had half a mind to join you, but instead opted to enjoy just being with you; resting his head near yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. Though, somewhere close by the little turtle and the plush were laying together where you had placed them. It was almost like they were watching you, like they were proud of him.

Thank you once again for reading!! ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ∩∩ ˂ ꒱ྀིა

[renthony]

On Cosplay, Fast Fashion, & Waste

Fast fashion and disposable outfits in cosplay community spaces give me anxiety. Seeing people openly talk about throwing their "trashed" cosplay away after a single con makes me sad. Some costumes are crafted with such low durability that they fall apart beyond repair if you look at them the wrong way. I've met a ton of other cosplayers whose idea of "cosplay repair" ends with a stapler and some hot glue.

I never ever ever ever want to shame people for not knowing something. Crafting is hard. Making a low-quality costume isn't a sin or a crime. If you're new and still learning and don't really know what you're doing yet, that's fine! No harm, no foul, no bruise.

The cosplayers who do make me grouchy, however, are the ones who are unwilling to try. The ones who are flippant about throwing away a cosplay without trying to mend it, repurpose it, reuse it, or pass it along. The ones who intentionally make a costume just durable enough to last a single day, then toss it in the trash with zero thought.

My sewing and costuming experience started when I joined the ren faire, and I had to make my costumes sturdy enough to survive multiple weeks of heavy use, with the durability and freedom of movement to allow sword fighting on the living chessboard. I was taught how to shop for inexpensive fabrics and materials, but use high-quality, long-lasting techniques so that my costumes didn't disintegrate after a single day of performing. I have made extremely durable, cost-effective costumes out of bedsheets and thrift store fabric, as have many of my friends.

That experience has carried over into my cosplay. I am not happy with a costume unless it can go through three consecutive days of stage combat and high-intensity walking around outside in the heat, go through the washer and dryer, and come out completely unscathed.

Again, I never want to needlessly shit on other people's cosplay. Cosplay gatekeeping sucks and is no fun for anyone. At the same time, fast fashion is just as rampant in cosplay as it is everywhere else, and it sucks to see how wasteful it is.

You can make things durable even with cheap materials. Stop making flimsy costumes that you're just going to toss. Stop making piles and piles of waste. Please stop buying fabric just to slap a costume together with glue and throw it in the trash. If you are going to invest time and money into making something by hand, make it durable and comfy and worth the effort.

Even if you only want to personally wear it once, you can sell it, give it away, trade it, do something other than toss it in the trash. Show some love to your costumes, show some love to the planet, pick one action you can take to make your cosplay a little less wasteful. Being obsessed with the myth of a "personal carbon footprint" isn't helpful, but we as cosplayers should try to at least make things that'll last longer than 24 hours.

I understand that sewing can be incredibly intimidating, but basic stitching really isn't that complicated if you have a guide and the right tools. I personally need assistive devices for sewing thanks to my hand tremors and tendonitis, but those tools do exist, and can make things easier for both disabled and newbie sewists. I use rotary cutters instead of scissors, I keep a supply of needle threaders on hand, I have multiple little gadgets that help me sew in a straight line so my shaking hands don't screw everything up. There are tons of tools available, tons of tutorials online, and if you're interested in learning, there's a whole world out there to explore.

If you don't want to do all the crafting yourself, that's totally fine, but if you are going to hand-make your costume, you should try and make it durable. It's better for the planet and it's way less stressful to go to an event when you know your costume won't fall apart on the con floor.

If you have zero idea where to start, here are some books with crafting techniques I've found very useful, both in cosplay and regular household sewing I do for my family:

Make, Sew and Mend: Traditional Techniques to Sustainably Maintain and Refashion Your Clothes, by Bernadette Banner (who also has an incredible YouTube channel)

Cosplay Fabric FX: Painting, Dyeing & Weathering Costumes Like a Pro, by Julianna Franchini

Creative Cosplay: Selecting & Sewing Costumes Way Beyond Basic, by Amanda Haas

Level Up! Creative Cosplay: Costume Design & Creation, SFX Makeup, LED Basics & More, by Amanda Haas

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands)

pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader

rating: E for Explicit

word count: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ content, fingering/hand job, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, brief talk of injury/treatment (reader gives him stitches), reader has no physical description besides breasts and feminine clothing, Tovar is able to lift reader

a/n: my submission for @iamasaddie's kinky may challenge! i was given the honor of writing Tovar with a praise kink 😤 i haven't written smut in a long time so please be gentle 🥲 extra special shoutouts to @frannyzooey and @joelscruff for hyping me up with the snippets i shared with them. feedback is always welcome, i was equal parts excited and scared to write this so i'd love to hear what y'all think 🙂

Tovar squirms again, making your hand slip and press harder on the wet rag you’re using to clean the sizeable gash along his right collarbone. He hisses slightly through his teeth before glancing down at you. You glare at him and huff once more.

“I told you to stop moving.”

Before he can respond, you hike up your skirt with your free hand and straddle his thighs. Tovar freezes completely upon your sudden movement, gripping the bench now supporting the both of you, his brows raised as you lock eyes.

“Now, hold still.”

You twist to the table next to you and pick up a sewing needle and thread, taking a moment to hold the needle in the flame of a lit candle to sterilize it before threading the eye. You don’t ask if he’s ready before beginning to stitch the wound.

Your stitches are slow but precise in the low candlelight. When you finish, you lean forward slightly to cut the thread with your teeth and secure the ends. It’s only when you pull away to set aside your tools that you notice Tovar’s breathing, or rather the lack of. He’s completely still as a statue, focused on a vague point off in the distance behind you.

“Did it really hurt that much?” You maneuver to try and catch his eyes but he veers away. You teasingly brush your fingertips down his muscular bicep. “I thought a big, tough mercenary like you could handle more than a few stitches without a fuss.”

Tovar clears his throat and his voice comes out lightly strained and breathy. “It is…not my wound that is the trouble.”

He shifts uncomfortably beneath you and you feel it. His full erection is pressed against your bare inner thigh. You can feel his weight and warmth just as he can feel yours. You bite back a smirk when he passes you a guilty glance.

“Forgive me, my dear. It has been a long time since I’ve felt a woman’s touch.”

You pause to consider your next move. You can’t deny your own attraction to the man, and you’ve been experiencing an extended dry spell of your own. It’s a miracle your own arousal hasn’t found its way to the front of his trousers where you’re still perched. Who knows how long he’ll stay here at the Wall? Who knows if he’ll even live to see another moonrise? What’s the harm in a little release?

You smirk and look up at him through your eyelashes. “Allow me to relieve your pain, then.”

You slide back on his thighs far enough to reach between the two of you and unfasten his pants. He grips your wrists with one thick, massive hand to stop you from going further.

“I cannot ask you to do that.” His voice and eyes are stern, intent on not crossing any unwanted boundaries.

You look back at him with sincerity. “You’re not asking me. I want to.”

“Querida-”

“No one ordered me to tend to your wound. I came because I wanted to. I wanted to help you,” you gently pry your hands from his grasp, “and I’m not leaving until I’ve finished helping you.”

Tovar’s expression is difficult to read. You can see the turmoil behind his eyes, so you try to make the decision easier for him. Shifting closer once more, you take his hand and guide it between your own legs. The corner of your mouth twitches up as his pupils dilate upon coming in contact with your soft, damp hairs. You press him further into your wetness, cupped fully in the palm of his hand now, and he breathes in sharply.

“If you truly want me to go-”

“No.” Tovar cuts you off quietly. You smile in satisfaction when you remove your hand but his does not budge. “But I will not indulge in what is not offered.”

Striking your final blow, you undo the strings closing the top of your tunic, shrugging the shoulders off and letting it fall around your waist. Your breasts are exposed, nipples peaking in the cool night air from the window beside you. Tovar’s eyes are ablaze now as he takes you in, using every last bit of his willpower to resist until you give the word.

“Is this offering enough?”

The breath is stolen straight from your lungs as Tovar plunges one thick finger inside you up to the knuckle, his other hand smoothing up your bare thigh to your ass cheek and grasping it. He tugs you close so your tits are pressed to his solid chest as he slowly pumps in and out of you.

Your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself, but you move them away just as quickly when you put pressure on his fresh stitches. Tovar only grunts softly, otherwise not acknowledging the slip. You instead find a handhold along his ribs, gripping him tightly as warmth begins to spread up into your belly. He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, breathing deep and focused as he eases a second finger inside and increases his speed. You gasp at the foreign stretch and claw at his sides.

Tovar’s hips buck into you at the pinch, and you’re reminded of your initial mission. One hand slips past his waistband and settles on his hip. You bow your head and spit into the other before reaching down his front to grasp his length. The two of you groan simultaneously at the new sensation. You start pumping him, matching the pace of his fingers.

Your motions soon falter, though, as Tovar curls his fingers to press into your sweet spot. Your head falls to the side and rests on his, unable to stay up on its own as the wave of euphoria builds and threatens to crest. You fight to maintain your own strokes as Tovar chuckles from deep in his chest into your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, querida. So soft and warm, so tight.” He cuts himself off with a stronger groan as your hand on his hip circles back to the top of his ass, while the one wrapped around his cock slides down to cup his balls as well. “I know you’re close. Don’t fight it, bonita. Give it to me.”

 The wave comes crashing over you with his encouragement. You mouth drops open as you make no attempt to smother your cries. Tovar flexes as your hips rut against him.

“Very good. Let it out, let me hear you.”

Tovar continues his movements until you’ve completely come down from your high, though it begins to build again almost as soon as it dissipates. Finally, he removes his fingers, making a soft pop as your walls try to suck him back inside. He raises them to his lips and generously sucks off all your release from them, never once breaking eye contact. You feel a fresh gush of arousal drip down your thigh at the sight. You quickly fumble to pull down his trousers and free his raging cock. Tovar tilts his hips, tugging them down to his mid-thighs, but grasps you by the waist before you can impale yourself on him.

“I need you to say it first, mi amor. I simply cannot take what is not freely given.”

“Then take me,” you huff impatiently.

Tovar loosens his grip enough for you to rise onto your knees, notching the weeping head of his cock at your entrance. You lock eyes with him and take a deep, steadying breath before sinking down. You cry out in both pain and pleasure, the stretch more intense than his fingers especially after so long without. Tovar moans along with you, letting out a pained shout of his own as you take him all the way inside, settling onto his lap once more.

You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his scent of sweat and a hint of gunpowder, your breath hot against his skin. You try rocking your hips to relieve some of the tension, but Tovar abruptly stands, slipping out but clutching you to him tightly. You whine at the loss, then gasp when you feel the coolness of the thin sheets adorning the simple bed in the opposite corner of the room.

Tovar settles above you, supporting most of his weight on his knees and forearms. His pelvis rests lightly between your spread legs, his hardness bobbing against your mound with every breath. The dark trail of hair leading up his abdomen tickles your stomach, and you take the opportunity to truly admire the specimen hovering above you. The rippling muscles in his back, littered with long-healed battle scars breaking up the smooth skin. His dark hair, cut short but curling slightly at the nape of his neck. You rake your fingers through it, pulling him close. Tovar rests his forehead against yours, lips parted, exchanging breath. His gaze is piercing but you feel yourself being pulled in rather than pushed away.

Tovar must feel the same as he leans down just enough that your lips brush, but not seal together. You whimper his name on the verge of desperation and he closes the gap. He immediately takes charge, his tongue invading your mouth, feeling and tasting every crevice. You buck into him once again and he rips away from you, pinning your hips to the bed with one hand splayed across your lower belly.

You want to scream in frustration. “Tovar, please!”

“Shh, I know, mi amor. I know what you need. And you’ve been so good for me, I promise I will give it to you.” He moves his hand away and guides his tip back inside, pressing in slowly until his hips are flush with yours. The two of you groan in sync again and you wrap your legs around him, locking him in. “But we must go slow. I would hate to finish too quickly and bring an end to such pleasure that has only just begun.”

With this, he captures your lips with his own once more. You two stay locked like this for a while, savoring each other’s taste and touch. Tovar’s hands explore your body as you did his, tracing bones and squeezing flesh. Only when you feel totally consumed by him does he retreat from you, leaving only his tip inside. Tilting your chin up to look at him, he sinks back in to the root. And again. And again. Your second high hits you without warning as he sets the perfect rhythm.

Tovar bites back a guttural moan as he feels you tighten around him. “Dios mio, mi amor. You’re taking me so well. I would stay just like this forever if I could, buried in this cunt.”

You feel as if you’re floating, evaporating into the air from his heat and force of his thrusts. Your pleasure reaches new heights as he cups the back of your knee and pushes it up to your chest, welcoming him impossibly deeper. Tovar’s intense gaze remains on your face as he fucks you, committing every sound and expression of bliss to his memory.

You feel the wave cresting again just as his hips begin to stutter but never lose their force. You try to call out his name, a warning of your impending release, but you only manage pleading cries of “please.”

He understands immediately, snaking his other arm underneath you and up to your shoulder, pulling you against him as he slams into you. His voice is just as desperate, strained from holding off his own release to wait for yours.

“That’s it, mi amor. Cum for me. Cum on my cock. I want it. I need it. I crave it.” His snarling in your ear tips the scales in your favors, sending you over the edge. Your legs tighten around him as your back arches off the mattress. Tovar takes one breast into his mouth, biting and sucking his mark onto you. He unlatches in time to smack his hips to yours once, twice, three more times. A roar erupts from him as his cock pulses, forcing out rope after rope of his cum to coat your walls, content to plant there and never escape.

He fills you to the brim, milky white droplets beginning to seep out from where your hole has sealed around him. When he’s finally spent, he lowers himself flush to you, arms curling around your back. The salty, heady scent of your activity surrounds the two of you as you each fight to regain your senses.

You card your fingers through his hair once more as Tovar turns his head to press his lips to your neck. Soft at first, then open and hungry, nipping at the skin to coax out another mark matching the one on your breast, tongue soothing the spot after each bite.

You hear his breath begin to deepen and slow, feel his heartbeat matching it. You know you shouldn’t allow yourself to fall asleep beneath him. But how could you rip yourself from his arms now?

As if sensing your thoughts, Tovar rests his head atop yours, gazing into your eyes once more, lids half-closed.

“Ay, mi amor. I have half a mind to steal you away with us. What kind of man would I be to leave behind such perfection?” He seals your lips together and, at the same time, your mind.

What’s the harm in being his forever?

[flopsxii]

something new - mitsuya takashi ᯓᡣ𐭩

after being mistreated by another delinquent, is it worth giving it a try with another?

( gender isn’t specified i think, cute soppy simpy mitsuya rahhhhh !!!! i envision mitsuya and reader are 18, so final year of hs .)

it was becoming almost impossible to avoid takashi. you saw him at school, in grocery stores whilst he shopping with luna and mana… it seemed everywhere you went his bike wasn’t parked too far away. it wasn’t like you were searching for him everywhere you went, it was the opposite.

the ever growing feelings blooming in your chest scared the ever living shit out of you. after prior relationships ending in nothing but heartbreak (one sided it seemed), it became harder and harder to convince yourself to act on the feelings that just seemed to be growing stronger day by day.

mitsuya was almost perfect. almost. he didn’t seem to have any flaws; he’s family orientated, emotionally mature, fiercely loyal and has many intriguing talents. however, he was a part of a gang, a group of delinquents that seemed to be having new fights every single day. you knew how it felt to be involved with a delinquent, the heartache you felt when you were cast aside too many times, every single time you had to patch your ex boyfriend up, hands shaking as you did so. it became too much for you and now your stupid heart was doing this to you again.

you had hoped to make it to the end of the school day without catching mitsuya’s eye but one could be so lucky.

as you saw mitsuya’s expression change at the sight of you, your heart hammered away in your chest. spinning on your heel with your books pressed against your chest, you attempted to make an exit. however, due to being in such a hurry, coupled with not looking with where you were going, you managed to bump into someone causing all of your books and papers to spill onto the floor.

cursing, you attempted to retrieve your papers, however, another hand reached out and started collecting them. mitsuya. “y/n-chan, let me pick these up.” he smiled sweetly as he gathered them up and handed them back to you in a neat pile. “thank you… you didn’t need to, i could’ve have collected them.” you explained, as a pink hue started to dust your cheeks. ‘damn, these feelings.’ you thought.

“i’m always happy to help you, y/n-chan. you should know that by now… are you busy right now? i was hoping to catch you for a chat.” he proposed, a hand coming up the back of his neck as a nervous smile plastered on his face.

“uhh…” you mumbled, thinking of any excuse to get away. anyone could probably guess what he wanted to talk about. “please. i promise ill be quick.”

nodding, you allowed mitsuya to lead you into the empty sewing room. “so, what did you want to talk about, mitsuya-san?” you asked, eyes trained on your feet, tracing the outline of the bows on shoes so you didn’t look up at him. being alone with him made butterflies erupt in your stomach, making you feel somewhat uneasy; you just hoped this talk would be over soon.

“takashi… remember? i told you to call me takashi.” he reminded you as a small laugh left his lips. “right… takashi, i do apologise.” you replied, taking one peep up at his face only to find his eyes trained on you.

“don’t apologise, however, should i? did i do something wrong? i can’t help but think you’ve been avoiding me. i can’t bare it anymore, y/n.” he spilled everything out and suddenly you knew it was time to come clean and explain why. it would only be fair, after all you didn’t want to hurt his feelings anymore than you already had.

“you didn’t do anything…” you mumbled, sighing, you continued. “i just don’t think we can be friends anymore, mits- takashi.” he looked at you bewildered, “go on.”

“it’s just, i feel our friendship has developed into something else and i don’t think i can do it. it isn’t you…” you cringed at your choice of words, technically it is him but how could you say that? “then what is it? tell me and ill fix it. please, y/n-chan, you’re important to me and im losing my mind trying to figure out what’s going on… luna and mana miss you, y’know? they ask about you and i can’t even tell them what’s going on. so please just tell me.” he rambled, his cheeks going red from the lack of breath.

mitsuya’s hand slowly and tentatively came up to cup your cheek, “please, y/n. it’s killing me not knowing.” he pleaded and it made your heart twinge in the worst way possible.

“i like you, takashi.” you confessed causing his cheeks to redden, “so what’s the problem? you know i have feelings for you too… i must’ve let it slip out one too many times.” he laughed awkwardly.

“i don’t know if i can handle being with someone with your lifestyle… i dated a delinquent previously and it caused me so much pain… i just don’t know if i can go through that again. i hope you can understand and hopefully this has given you some clarity on the situation. please hug luna and mana for me, im not sure when i will next be able to do it myself.” mitsuya expression was one of shock and sadness, it almost broke your heart seeing it but you had to remain strong.

“i don’t know what happened previously but i know i would never put you in a position where you’d be hurting. i’d treat you amazingly, y/n-chan. i just wish you could see that. you can’t turn down new opportunities due to past trauma; even if you reject me now, please keep it in mind for your future.”

mitsuya’s words cut deep, he was speaking the truth (like always). nibbling at your lip, mitsuya could see that you were deep in thought, “take some time to think about it, you know where i am if you want me.” he smiled almost sadly before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek and leaving you alone in the sewing room, the only one that smelt so impossibly like him.

you certainly had a lot to think about.

.

— not proof read, prolly ooc but i saw a tiktok and idec take it or leave it teehee ᯓᡣ𐭩

[temporarywelcome]

Late - Spencer Reid

Wordcount: 969

Summary: getting ready for a Halloween party with Spencer

Warnings: some swearing

A/N: technically a pt 2 of "Costumes" (can be found on Masterlist), but can 100% be read stand alone

_________

Spencer was lucky as hell she loved him to bits.

She stood in this fuck ass costume as he yapped and yapped about some fantasy series. She was dressed as the main woman, he was the main man. 

Y/N could care less for Halloween. But because her boyfriend and his persuasiveness (he just had big brown eyes, for fuck’s sake) (oh, and he offered to let her handcuff him) demanded they got into the holiday spirit, she folded. Almost instantly. 

So, being as whipped as she was for him, she did fall activities like pumpkin carving, apple picking, making a billion pastries with said apples, corn mazes, fall movies (some not even horror, to her disdain), and of course, dressed up for a Halloween party as a nerd character he wanted her to dress up in. 

To add, she took the time to sew them herself. Anything to make that brat happy. 

“I spoil you too much,” she grumbled, forcing him to still so she could fix his costume. 

“I feel it is a perfect amount,” he grinned at her through the mirror, “I know I complain about dating someone in the arts literally all the time, but I take it all back. You’re awesome.”

“Gee thanks, glad I’ve now become of used to you,” she deadpanned, “Glad my costume design abilities are to your standards,”

“They are, it looks so realistic,” Spencer replied, not catching her sarcasm, “I love it, thank you so much for doing this for me. I know you didn’t want to,”

She hummed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder from behind. Luckily, she was in heels, because he’s tall, “Yeah yeah yeah. You know I can’t say no to you,” she squeezed his hip lightly before pulling back, “Now hurry up, we’re going to be late,”

“You sound eager,” he said smugly, taking a seat to slip on some boots (that she had to buy, of course).

“No, I don’t,” Y/N huffed, “I just don’t want to hear the passenger princess complain and complain while I’m forced to drive,”

“I don’t complain,”

“Oh my Goddddd that’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard,” she rolled her eyes before doing a quick eyeliner wing, being the expert performer she was. Always had to be quick. “The fact your team doesn’t know this is crazy, you must be saving the brattiness just for me,” 

“You bring it out of me, I guess,”

“See? Spoiled,” she laughed, doing the other eyes. 

“Well, do you want me to be like this with other people?” he raised a brow at her.

“No, I have to make the sacrifice to protect others,” Y/N said dramatically, being the woman of the arts she was. 

“You’re so selfless,” Spencer said dryly, biting his lips to hold back a little giggle, “Sacrificing yourself so others don’t have to hear my mouth,”

Y/N stood back up to grab her bag and the prop sword he forced her to buy, “You’re lucky I love you, brat,” she playfully bonked his head with the sword.

“You’ll mess up my hair!” he swatted it away with a huff, “Asshole,” 

She bonked his head again, “I think I’m allowed to be a little playful considering what you’re forcing me to do,”

“A Halloween party, the horror,” he rolled his eyes as he stood up, arms going around her waist, “You’re so dramatic,” His eyes lit up, “Wait! Can you help me?” he holds up an eyeliner pencil to her.

“Ah, babe, I’m a liquid liner person, but I’ll try,” she laughed softly, pushing him to sit down. Straddling his lap, she carefully began applying the eyeliner to his waterline.

“Ah ah ow! Ow! Holy shit how do girls do this shit shit shit!” On reflex, he slapped her hand away, blinking repeatedly.

“Stop moving and it won’t hurt,” Y/N grumbled, gripping his chin in a semi-tight manner, “Now stay still,” she came at him with the pencil again.

As soon as the tip pressed against his waterline, he was cursing again, “Shit shit shit shit ow ow ow!” he pushed her hand away again, “How do you do this every day?”

“I use liquid,” she reminded him before scolding him once again, “Now stop moving,” 

“It’s hard,” Spencer whined, biting his bottom lip.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Baby you go face-to-face with unsubs without even blinking. I think you can handle an eyeliner pencil. Now stay. Still.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grumbled back at her, hands going to her hips as she went in to do the damn eyeliner once again, “Can I squeeze you if I get scared?” Spencer asked teasingly, leaning closer.

“Move one more time and I’ll poke your eyes out,”

“I love you too,”

“Hardy har har,” she rolled her eyes, finally able to do the waterline, “A miracle has graced us! It has been done!”

“Thank you, babe,” Spencer practically threw her off of him to see how he looked in the mirror.

Of course, she dramatically crumpled to the floor, “Oh, how I despise this treatment. Always used, never loved,”

“Get off the floor you’re going to ruin your costume!” Spencer gasped, yanking her to her feet.

“Wow,” she brought her arms around his neck, “You care more about the costume than the fact I feel used and unloved?” 

“Ignoring you,” he said dryly, leaning his forehead against hers, “Save the drama for the stage, I beg of you,” he turned his head to the clock on the wall, checking the time, “Shit! We’re late!” he gripped her hand, dragging her out of the room in hurry.

“Great, now you're going to be on my ass the whole ride,” Y/N grumbled out, following him. 

Spencer glared at her over his shoulder, “No, I'm not.”

He so was.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

"Is there something wrong with me, why do they hate me so much?"

Dick breathes, it's not often now that's it just him and Tim usually Damian is lurking around, or Bruce needs something.

He hesitates, putting into words anything involving Jason or Damian is always convoluted, at best.

Hate is such a interesting word even on his best day there aren't many he would say that about.

Majority are villains. People who have hurt him or his brothers.

Does he think Jason or Damian hate Tim?

No.

He believes it's a mixture of jealously, pride and just overall trauma.

"There's nothing wrong with you Baby bird, your one of the best things that have ever existed in this world. Your my baby brother."

He looks at Tim fond and soft.

He wonders about Jason mostly if he just doesn't see this, or maybe doesn't care. How can you hurt a person so badly and not even blink?

"You didn't deny that they hate me?" It's bitter.

Dick wonders when this became his life carefully trying to sew up gaping bloody wounds that with the carelessness of his brothers will never scar.

He wants to shove it in their faces see what you have done. These are consequences you broke his wings and everyday you keep trampling them. You rant and rave about what has been done to you, yet turn and do the same.

Maybe that is brotherhood cutting so deep you mark bone and not glancing back.

How is it that for all the anger that sits in his chest he could never be Cain.

He remembers after Jason first came, he had looked up the story imagined standing covered in his brothers blood.

He had wanted to vomit.

"They do not hate you, they just are cruel."

It's feels almost like a lie or maybe something nastier to say anything about two boys who aren't men even if Jason likes to pretend to be.

But where is the loyalty Tim has bled for where's Dick's?

"Cruel, is that so different, or worse?"

It's funny the leaps and jumps you can make, to excuse the most despicable of actions.

"You know Cain loved Abel? It's not so black and white."

Or it is and this is how Dick will eventually justify lowering the corpse of his brother into the ground. Will he see a smirk painting Damian's face while he stares at the grave.

Will he look across the dining table to an empty chair sharing a meal with his brother's as they bond over the murder of another. Will his father care or will he be apathetic to another dead son.

Isn't it funny that Dick expects it that it will not surprise him if one day he gets the call.

"Why do I have to be Abel why am I the one who has to Die... Dick. Don't I have the right to live?"

"Who said you had to die, why can't you be Cain?"

Maybe it's selfish or something else but if he had to pick why shouldn't it be Tim.

It's only fair after all.

"Your lying, you would never look at me again if I did what they have."

No.

"I have never denied being willing to die at your hand brother, I have already forgiven you."

[tadpolesonalgae]

Throwing your shoe at them—headcanons

a/n: maybe had a little too much fun creating these scenarios, oops (again, thank you 🩰)

warnings: all round suggestiveness, hinted somnophilia w/ Eris, slight ‘enemies to loves’ vibes with Lucien

Azriel:

“The last time your legs were shaking this badly—”

“Don’t you dare.” You hiss, glaring up at him with fire blazing in your eyes from where you’re lying on the floor, downed by the exercises he put you through.

He crouches at your side, the heel of his palm pressed leisurely against his cheek, glancing down at you smugly, a glint in his hazel eyes.

“I thought you liked it when I pushed you over that edge,” he muses, that obnoxiously prideful look on his features.

Outrage pounds through your blood as you stare up at him with an open mouth.

He raises a provoking brow, a smirk curving his mouth. “Continuously.”

“You shut your mouth, Shadowsinger,” you snap, hands tightening into fists as you try to get to your feet. “I’m done for the day.”

He huff a low laugh, getting to his feet. “Five more. Then we can stop.”

He pauses, turning to glance at you over his shoulder, a smug grin on his mouth. “I could make you do more, if I wanted.”

The boot is off your foot and flying through the air before either of you can blink, and his shadows seem to intentionally dart away, allowing it to pass into his personal space.

Azriel catches it—barely in time—shooting a fed-up glance to his shadows, that has a spark of triumph lighting in your chest.

His attention switches to you, marking your expression, something hungry flitting through his gaze, wings flaring slightly at his back with male interest. Then his mouth curves at the edges, tossing the boot back, turning to stand beside you, again crouching down.

“Fine. You want to be a brat, that’s fine,” he murmurs lowly, having heat unspool in your lower abdomen. “But you’re doing ten more. Then I’ll really make your legs shake.”

Cassian:

“I think this one will look lovely,” Cassian remarks, holding up the red dress with a deep cut down the neckline that plunges to the base of your sternum.

“The colour won’t go with my earrings,” you reason, holding up the gold and emerald earrings you’d picked out for the night, appropriate for the dinner being held at Spring—making efforts to mend relations after centuries of unfriendly silence.

“I was thinking for me, actually,” Cassian counters, holding the lovely fabric up to himself, splaying out the skirts.

You pause, fingers poised to set the clip into your hair, before setting it down and turning to him. “Cassian…” you begin slowly, “I’m sure you’d look wonderful, but that was given to me by Mor, so you will not be getting your hands on it. You’d rip it to shreds.”

“Maybe if it was on you,” he returns lowly, eyes taking on a hungry gleam, dress lowering as his mind wanders elsewhere.

“Keep it to yourself,” you laugh, “we have a dinner to go to tonight, and I need to get ready.”

“I know something you could do a lipstick test on.”

You gape at him. “And where did that come from?”

“I listen to the things you talk about,” he counters, putting the dress aside as he walks over to you, sat prettily at your vanity. “I pay attention to every single word that comes from that lovely mouth of yours.”

You flush, something about his tone having heat warming your lower abdomen.

He smirks, leaning closer, bracing one hand on your vanity, the other on the back of your chair. “Every, filthy, word.”

Laughter breaks from your chest, grabbing one of the slippers you’d been trying to sew a pattern onto and throwing it at him. “I’m serious, Cass! I need to get ready. Don’t try to distract me.”

He chuckles, standing up, stepping back with a smile in his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding his hands up as he retreats. “I’ll let you get on with your routine.”

You roll your eyes, but return to the mirror, a smile warming your mouth.

“I’ll save the teasing for dinner.”

Eris:

Sunlight burns into your lids, and you groan, shoving your head under the pillow. “Eris please, I’m begging you to learn the concept of sleeping in,” you moan, pulling the cushion tighter as you snuggle beneath the duvet.

“If the sun’s up, so should you be,” he reminds, coming to a stop at the side of the bed, trying to pry the pillow from your clutched fingers, having to rip it away, making you whine, shying from the light.

“It’s not that bad,” he mutters fondly, pulling the duvet back and you make a show of shivering, his rosey lips cutting up faintly at the corners. “Maybe if you weren’t reading so late into the night this would be easier for you.”

You glare up at him, curling tight into a ball to preserve as much warmth as you can, rolling into the heat of the soft mattress. “Maybe if you didn’t get up so early you’d be able to stand late nights,” you grumble, finally getting up as he walks away.

“You know, early mornings wouldn’t be so awful if it was something else getting up with the sun,” you muse, legs swinging over the side, feet sliding into warm slippers.

“We both know you’d be drooling all over the place and half asleep,” he scoffs, back to you as he glances through your wardrobe.

You gasp, brows pulling together in an offended fashion, grabbing a slipper and launching it across the room, watching with distinct satisfaction as it smacks into the back of his head.

Eris pauses, as if registering what happened, before he glances over his shoulder, looking down at the shoe, then back to you. Unimpressed. “Am I wrong?”

You huff, folding your arms over your chest indignantly. “Maybe I’d like that…”

Eris stiffens, arms pausing as the confession slinks down his spine. “Maybe you’d like that,” he repeats quietly, taking a moment to comprehend.

Then he nods to himself, turning to peer at you over a broad shoulder, a mischievous gleam in his swirling amber eyes.

“Perhaps we’ll try that out…”

Lucien:

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say slightly tersely.

“He didn’t have to put his hand on your waist, either,” Lucien counters smoothly, but the tightness to his jaw belies his casual calm.

You look away, posture rigid as he walks you toward your chambers, escorting you politely. “I thought he was rather dashing,” you muse lightly, watching through your peripherals.

“Is that so?” He muses with equal lightness. “I think your standards should be raised. At least higher than a limbo bar.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy, Vanserra?” You remark, keeping your gaze off him as you open the door, allowing him entrance as you walk further into the room.

“Not in the slightest,” he drawls, though you can feel his gaze burning into your back. “Rather, I had assumed you were a lady of substance.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, not quite able to keep the snappiness from your tone.

“If all it takes is a light touch to your waist to prepare you for bed…” he responds lowly, and you’re able to hear the smirk on his mouth.

“Finish that sentence, Vanserra,” you say sharply, turning to where he’s stood by the door. “I dare you.”

His lips quirk, gaze a little more intense than before, and a surprising heat blossoms across your skin as he practically strips you naked, his eyes sweeping over you.

“I think your mind will provide ample endings there,” he remarks lowly, the light catching on the sharp canines that have dragged over your shoulder.

You seethe, nails biting into your palms as you glare at him from across the room. “You should learn when to keep your mouth shut.”

“I think you enjoyed my mouth being open.”

The heel shoots across the room with such force it thuds against the swiftly closed doors, being thrown hard enough to almost lodge into the ornately carved wood.

You hear him chuckling in the hall, thighs pressing together at the delicious sound.

“If you’re in need of a reminder…” he calls through the door, and you throw the other shoe, this one indeed lodging in the wood, calling another low laugh from his chest as he at last leaves you to your own devices.

Leaving your blood boiling and a flustered heat over your cheeks, traitorous arousal warming between your things.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Hello I very much enjoy your writing! Idk if this is where I can put in my request for the game but here it is:

Silver (kid) and (mentions of indigo killer) with prompt: “You're not taking me to bed. Not now, not ever”

I imagine kid’s flirting would come off as bullying. Leading to a rivalry where reader thinks he’s a hot asshole and wants to one-up him. And kid just CANNOT express his feelings and keeps it going to be close to them. Leading to this sexual tension between them that needs to be broken before they both perish from their bottled up feelings.

Again I love your writing! Keep it up!

Not Ever (18+)

THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST! (one of my favorites that I got hehe)

Pairing: Eustass Kid x Female Reader

WC: 2700

Prompt: “You’re not taking me to bed. Not now, not ever.” 

TW: unprotected sex, angst, enemies to lovers, arrogant asshole kid, but also softie kid... oral, f receiving, nipple play, kissing, pet names, cream pies, emotions to an extent, theyre so cute idk? it's porn!

— — 

Your captain drove you mad.

He was crass. Gross. Rude. Loud. Vulgar. Argumentative. Hard-headed. Huge. Muscular. Handso-

No. 

He was a dick. 

In every possible opportunity, Kid was a dick. 

You ended up hitching a ride on the Kid Pirates ship for a few weeks and somehow found yourself never leaving after they realized you had advanced medical knowledge, being a nurse on your former island. You enjoyed the company of the crew and the dangerous life on the high seas excited you to no end. The only thorn in your side was the pain-in-the-ass captain. He busted everyone’s balls in the crew, but you knew he picked on you more than the others… 

— — 

“Oi! Y/n!” The harsh voice of Eustass Kid rung out on the deck, cutting through the crashing waves and pouring rain. “Pick up the fuckin’ slack! If we end up at the bottom of the sea in this storm I’ll raise you from the dead just so I can kill ye again!” 

A loud crack of thunder sounded and flash of lightning lit up the ship. 

“Wire hasn’t pulled a single rope and you’re yelling at me, ya shit bag?” You shout back, heaving coil after coil of sail rope over your shoulder, desperately trying to pull the sail down in the storm to keep the Victoria Punk from capsizing. “We wouldn’t be stuck in this if you hadn’t pissed off everyone in the Grand Line and had to take the scenic route!” 

“Less yappin’ more haulin’!” He barks back. 

— — 

“Get off me, ye fuckin' harpy, I’m fine!” Kid slurs out, clutching the bleeding, open wound on his chest. 

“Hey dick-nose! You told me I was here to be your fuckin’ medic, so let me be a fuckin’ medic!” You shout as you haul Kid’s massive body onto the medical table. 

“Urrgg-“ Kid groans. 

You quickly grab a surgical needle and thread along with antiseptic and antibiotic ointment. You thread the needle nimbly and start to close up the gash. 

“OW!” Your captain yells and lurches forward. “You ain’t have any anesthetic?” 

“Big bad worst generation pirate captain needs an anesthetic for some stitches?” You ask with a cocked head. 

“I’m still human, you bitch!” He snarls. 

“Here, pour this-“ You hand him a bottle of vodka from under the surgical table. 

Kid rips the bottle from your hand and chugs it til it’s near empty. He winces and sighs. 

“Alright I’m ready.” He says, wiping the liquor from the sides of his mouth. 

“Oh that’s not-“ You begin. “You know what, fuck it.” You say as you begin to stitch up his chest wound. 

Kid winces each time the needle pierces his skin to pull it together. A silence comes over the room. 

“You need to be more careful.” You say softly, carefully focused on sewing up the gash. 

“You don’t know shit about what I need.” Kid says with his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m the captain. I make the rules.”

“Yeah, well… maybe your rules suck sometimes…” You say as you continue to sew up the injury across Kid’s chest. 

Kid lets out a deep exhale. Silence falls again. After a few more minutes, you finish the last stitch and pull your hands away. 

“Hey-“ Kid says as he sits up and suddenly grabs your wrist, so small in his large hand. 

“Yeah?” Your head turns to meet his gaze. You hold each other’s eyes for a moment… there was something different in the way he was looking at you right now… 

“… nothing.” Kid says and drops your wrist. He slings his legs over the side of the medical table and hops down. He storms out of the room without so much as a ‘thank you.’

— — 

You belly up to the wooden bar in the galley of the ship with a sigh. Killer was washing dishes at the sink when he heard you plop on a stool and turns around. 

“Long day, huh?” He asks, drying a beer stein with a dish towel. 

“When is it not?” You huff. “Can I get a beer?” You ask tiredly. 

Killer nods and takes the clean beer glass over to the keg against the wall and fills it to the rim with amber bubbles. He slides it from across the bar into your waiting palm. You grip the glass and start to bring it to your dry lips. Before the glass could touch your mouth, the door the galley swung open and slammed against the wall. 

“Hey piss-pots, I need a drink.” Captain Kid’s massive, fiery haired frame came barreling through the doorway. You roll your eyes, irritated that your moment of peace was interrupted. 

Kid stomps up to you at the bar, huge black jackboots clanging against the wooden floor. He rips the beer from your grasp. 

“Hey-!” You shout in protest, but it was too late. Kid brought your beer to his lips and begins to chug. He drank with such voracity that the beer seeped from the sides of the rim and trickled down his chin and neck. You watched as the beverage spilled down his thick neck, Adams apple bobbing with each gulp. Your eyes were drawn as the droplets traveled down to his exposed chest… so toned and wide… ew what?

He finishes the beer, slams the glass back down on the counter and lets out a massive belch. 

You grimace. 

“Fucking pig.” You sneer. 

You hear Killer sigh heavily and he grabs the glass to refill it for you. 

“What? I’m thirsty.” Kid grins cheekily at you. 

“You’re disgusting is what you are.” You add. Killer gives you back a full glass of beer. “And I’m supposed to drink this after his filthy mouth touched it?”

“You’d hate to hear the shit I do to your toothbrush after you go to bed, then.” Kid laughs. “Killer, get me another drink.” 

Killer grabs two more glasses before filling one for himself and another for his captain. After handing the stein to Kid, the captain takes a few heavy gulps and drains the cup halfway before setting it back down on the counter. You scoff and pick up your own glass and move to hop off your barstool. 

“Where ye headed little one?” Kid asks and takes another drink. 

“Away from you.” You respond coldly. 

“You’ll stay and drink with me. Captain’s orders.” He commands. 

You pause. 

You settle yourself back onto the stool and take a drink. 

“You’re an ass.” 

“I’m your captain, that’s what matters.” He says without looking at you. 

You roll your eyes again. 

“How is it you’ve gotten this far in the Grand Line acting like such an incompetent prick?” You ask before you take another gulp from your beer. 

“Y/n…” Killer says with warning. 

“How is it that you’ve lived this long without me throwing your ungrateful, bratty ass overboard?” Kid shoots back at you. 

You were too busy chugging your beer to respond. 

“Most likely because you can’t stop thinking about her bratty ass itself.” Killer says casually as he lifts his mask to drink his beer. 

“Oi? What’re you implyin’ then?” Kid asks with a growl across the bar top. 

“I’m not implying shit. We’re all tired of the tension between you two and wish you’d just take her to bed already.” Killer informs his captain and best friend. 

“HAH!” You laugh out lout, spraying droplets of beer from your lips across the table. “Like I’d let that happen.” You turn to your captain as you drain your drink. “You’re not taking me to bed. Not now, not ever.” You chuckle as you push your glass towards Killer indicating for him to pour you a fresh one. 

“Yeah? Like I’d ever bed this fuckin’ nightmare.” Kid slurps down more alcohol as he puts his thumb out to gesture towards you. “All she does is bitch at me all day.” 

“Bitch at you? You mean care about your well-being?” You scoff. “Gods forbid anyone care about wether you live or die!” You take several heavy drinks from your glass. 

“It’s not your business wether-“ Kid starts. 

You rise from your stool and set your beer down. 

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had enough idiocy for one evening.” You leave the galley to head to your room. 

— — 

“Good riddance, I’d say.” Kid remarks with another gulp of liquor. 

A few silent seconds go by after the clink of the stein hits the wooden bar top. 

“Go get her.” Killer sighs. “If you don’t do it now, you’ll push her even further away.” 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re-“

“Oh shut up. Go find her.” Killer states and grabs the glass from his captain’s grip. 

— — 

You make your way across the dark, silent deck towards the crew’s quarters before you heard the galley door swing open behind you. 

You stop in your tracks and turn. 

It was Kid. 

“What now? Come to ridicule me some more?” You call out with your hands on your hips, tired of your captain's antics. 

Kid silently storms up to you. 

His metal arm suddenly grips your waist and pulls you flush to him. You look up into his eyes, they were fiery and determined.

“Captain.. I-“ You stammer out, suddenly breathless for some reason. 

Kid brings his flesh hand to the back of your head and pulls your face into his and smashes your lips together. 

“Mmmph!” You whimper out with wide eyes as you realize what’s happening. 

What was happening?

Your arrogant, idiot, asshole captain was kissing you in plain sight on the ship’s deck. Before you knew it you were being swept off your feet and over Kid’s shoulder. 

“Kid!  What the fuck!” You holler out while draped over Kid’s back. 

“Hush up for once!” He calls out and smacks your ass lightly on his shoulder. You yelp. 

You were being hauled through the ship’s belly and into the captain’s quarters. You had never been here before. You were flung suddenly against the door of Kid’s room as he shut it behind him. His heavy metal arm held up your body as he attacked your neck with his mouth, nipping and sucking harshly against your soft flesh. Instinctively you bring your hands up to his long, red hair and weave your fingers through it. 

Kid suckles on your pulse point and you gasp. 

“Captain!” 

“Enough of that.” Kid growls. “You know what to call me.” He licks down the center of your sternum. 

Kid grips your blouse and bra at once and rips them to pieces with ease, leaving your body exposed to him. 

“Kid!” You shout in protest, it was one of your favorite bras. 

“That’s more like it…” He coos as he sucks one of your nipples into his red lips. 

You body is pushed further against the wooden door as he ravishes your breasts, suckling on one and kneading the other in his palm. Your head rolls back as you sigh, letting the pleasure overtake you. 

Kid rips your body from the door and tosses you onto his red velvet comforter. He pulls your panties down forcefully and shoves his own coat off his shoulders. Before you could register the change, your captain’s head was between your legs lapping at your slit hungrily. 

You gasp. 

His tongue breaches your hole and you arch your back. 

“Gods! Fuck! Kid!” You cry out. 

You writhe against Kid’s face and he brings his lips to suckle your clit, making your thighs tense further. 

“Mmmph… so much sweeter than I imagined…” Kid says with a long lick up your slit, the tip of his tongue dancing across your clit teasingly. He pushes a thick finger into your entrance and crooks it up into your sweet spot as he laves his tongue over your sensitive nub. 

“Shit… I-“ You slam your eyes shut and throw your head back. 

“Yeah yeah, I know baby, let it go, come on…” Kid goads you in between suckles and kisses on your clit. He eventually shuts up and focuses on bringing you to your peak. 

Your core spasms and you release all over your captain’s face. You moan and writhe under the hot touch of Kid’s flesh and the cold grip of his metal arm around your hips. You return to reality after your powerful climax and see Kid’s smug face hovering over yours, having removed the rest of his clothing. His massive cock bobbed heavily against your slit, weeping in wait. 

“Ow..” You wince, feeling the hard metal of his prothetic wrist dig into your flesh. 

“Aye… you alright?” He asks, a foreign expression of concern decorating his painted face. 

“Take that damn thing off… Be with me…” You gasp out, referring to his metal arm. 

“I…” He looks to his arm then to your face again. “Okay..” Kid removes his metal arm and slides it next to the bed. “I… I wouldn’t do that… if it wasn’t… you…” He hesitates as he hovers over you again, leaning on his good arm. 

“I know…” You say and you reach your arm down to grip his member to line it up with your soaked entrance. “Please…” You plead as you press his mushroom tip into your hole, stretching it slightly. 

Kid presses his forehead to yours and pushes himself into you. 

The two of you both gasp and moan as he bottoms out inside of your wet, stretched cunt. Your mouth stays wide open as you adjust to the intrusion, Kid grunts and pants as he grinds his hips into yours. You’re full beyond all comprehension as you claw at your captain’s shoulders. 

Kid starts to thrust shallowly and you moan embarrassingly loud, he was bigger than anyone you’ve ever taken. 

“Shit- fuck- Oomph!” Kid collapses on top of you. 

He had lost balance on his arm and fallen forward. 

“I- Sorry- I-“ Your captain fumbles over his words all while still inside of you. 

You rip him back by his hair and kiss him with fervor. While your tongue slid into his mouth your flipped him onto his back. After adjusting to the new position, you rode him softly and passionately while kissing him and massaging his chest. Kid pulls his head back into the pillows away from your lips. 

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ perfect aren’t ye?” He regains his confidence and grips your hip with his flesh hand. “My everything…” Kid sighs out dreamily as he watches you bounce up and down on his cock. “So beautiful…” He admires you and moves his hand from your waist to bring your face back down to his and kisses you. 

You feel your peak approaching again and pull back. You gasp and grind your hips down harder. 

“You’re going to cum again? I can feel it…” Kid plants his feet and starts to thrust upwards into you. You’re tipped over and you cry out. 

“Kid!” You scream with your head thrown back. 

“Me too, baby, me too… shit-“ Kid grips the back of your neck and pulls you down on him impossibly hard. You feel the pulse of his hard cock and rope after rope of sticky spend fill your insides as you pant and moan, not caring who else could hear you on the ship. 

“oh…” You whisper, exhausted after your climax. You fall forward, your breasts falling directly into Kid’s face. He catches you with a hand around your back and pulls you in to lay at his side. 

A few moments of heavy breathing go by before you break the silence.  

“We should probably talk abo-“ You begin. 

“You stay here now.” Your captain interrupts you. You pick your head off Kid’s chest in interest. 

“Oh?” You ask. 

“You’re mine. My pirate queen. I’ll have Killer move your stuff in tomorrow.” Kid says as he gently pulls your head back down into his pecs. 

“I can very well move my own-“ You start before Kid interrupts you again. 

“You’ll be busy tomorrow… very busy…” Kid looks down at you with a wicked grin. 

— — 

[milesmolasses]

maybe e-42 miles x black fem fashion designer reader 👉🏾👈🏾 and she makes all different types of clothes like street wear and party dresses, and some girls even pay her to make their prom dresses and miles being her model for stuff.

my lil fashionista (e-42 miles x african!reader)

— I’ve added a small twist to this request I hope you don’t mind

— designer… but make it african

— this song has been on my mind all day

— ⚠️: use of the igbo language, some things may be confusing because they are written in broken african english, cursing, this one is on the longer side

in your room scattered with fabrics and sewing materials, you were on the phone with a last-minute client who wanted a prom dress done for her daughter. she was a close friend of your mothers and she called you expecting you to help her out on this last minute request, with prom only a month and a half away. but hey, if she was willing to pay double, who were you to refuse?

she was sending designs and inspo pictures, as well as different materials she wanted you to use on the dress. your mind was reeling, trying to write everything down as she spoke to you on the phone about all of the measurements of her daughter.

"ah, see the picture I sent to you now on whatsapp, that's kind of the style of dress we want for her. the long skirt one," she yelled into the phone. you could hear all the traffic from the road she was on, as well as gospel music from the speakers of her car.

"aunty have you changed the colors of the dress now?" you asked, praying she would say no as you looked at the photo she sent. you had already taken the fabrics out of your wardrobe and laid them out, so a change in colors would only stress you out more.

"no, same colors—"

just then, the woman was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. you could hear it buzz on the wood of your floor, and when you went to check on who it was, you saw it was your boyfriend miles. "ahhh leave me nah!" you groaned as you picked up the phone to decline his call.

"are you talking to me?"

"no! no no no aunty, someone called me sorry," you pleaded, not wanting to seem rude to the woman who was paying you good money to make a dress on such short notice. you haphazardly threw your phone to your bed as you focused on remembering all of the measurements she told you and writing them down.

"biko (please), what did you say her busts were?" you requested.

"ahn that one is—"

just as she was about to tell you the measurement, your phone cut off. looking at the device on your bed, you saw miles was calling you again. you sucked your teeth as you declined his call, once again. knowing miles, you placed your phone on dnd to make sure you wouldn't get any more of his calls.

you sighed as you just decided to re-take all the girls' measurements whenever she got to your house.

"am nearing your house now, can you buzz me in?" the woman on the other line asked of you.

"of course, just tell me whenever you ring," you said. the commotion and traffic you heard before were gone. "she must be close," you thought to yourself.

you threw your notebook and pen alongside your phone on your bed as you went to focus on the half-finished dress on your mannequin. it was your own prom dress that you chose to make completely on your own, choosing to go for a more cultural look this prom season. you left the needle and thread looped through the sleeve of the dress to attend to the client you had on the phone, but now you went back to the dress you were working on.

the top of the dress was a beautiful, deep, dark red corset with jewels decorating the bust of the dress going all the way up to the sleeves. a swirl pattern of shimmering vines decorated the rest of the top portion. the bottom of the dress—a beautiful maroon color that was also decorated in shimmering, floral vines— went straight down in a tight fit to accentuate all your curves. not yet added to the dress, was the matching train, which you would sew later.

you were about to make the last loop around before finishing off the first sleeve of the dress when you heard a buzz from the front of your apartment. sticking a random hole in the dress to place the needle in, you tugged your bonnet off your head and ran to the buzzer. after buzzing the woman in, you waited by your door patiently.

after a few minutes, your doorbell rang. after waiting a few seconds to make it seem like you weren't literally right next to the door, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Y/N, kedu ka ị mere? (how are you),” she asked, leaning in to hug you.

“adị m mma aunty (i'm fine aunty), I was just finishing up a dress i’m working on," you responded. you looked at the girl right next to the woman; she looked just about your age.

"Adaoma you don't greet? is this not your agemate?" she looked to her daughter who made a face of discomfort. you understood exactly what she was feeling as her mother said that, so you shook your head as you chuckled and smiled.

"it's fine aunty, come inside both of you," you affirmed as you walked backward into your apartment.

as they sat down on your couch, you turned to your kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, "do you guys want some lemona—"

you couldn't even get the sentence out as you heard your buzzer buzz again. without thinking, you walked to your door and buzzed whoever the perpetrator was in.

"ah ah, are you having visitors?"

"no, it's probably just my mom. I think she forgot her key on her way to the market," you reasoned. walking back to your kitchen, you poured two glasses of lemonade into glasses and walked back to the living room couch where your visitors stayed.

"thank you my dear," said the woman. her daughter mumbled a small "thank you" as you handed them the cool drink.

"I have the measurements written down somewhere, hold on," you said, running to your room.

as you were searching your room for the small book you kept full of measurements and designs, you heard your doorbell.

"fuck where is it?" you whispered, scolding yourself for losing it so easily. your bell rang again, and then it rang a third time.

"oh my god— I'M COMING!"

finally, after recking your room completely, you found the book on your bed right next to your phone. you were too happy to beat yourself up about how stupid you were to not check your bed first, so you ran back to the living room, placing your things on the small coffee table.

you muttered an apology to your guests as you turned to the door, unlocking it. who you expected to see was your mom frantically telling you about how she left her keys at home before going to the market. however, what you were met with instead only made you even more annoyed.

"why you not answering the phone, hm?" came a deep, calm voice from the other side of the door.

sighing, you calmly tried to collect yourself, tilting your head back and saying a small prayer to the lord up above.

"miles, please. i'm doing something right now," you pleaded. the last thing you needed was your passive-aggressive boyfriend pissing you off when you already had so much to get done.

tilting his head forward, he peeked into your apartment looking at the people sitting on your couch. when he saw that the older woman was wearing a blouse with an African print—an Ankara blouse— he knew to watch his mouth when he entered your home.

"Y/N, who is that? is it your mum?" she questioned. sighing, you opened the door wider, revealing miles standing there with his head down facing you.

"no aunty, one of my friends came to visit," you said, putting on the fakest smiles known to man.

"introduce yourself, friend—" you grunted that last part, hoping miles got the message.

"good afternoon ma'am, my name is miles," he said walking up to the lady to shake her and her daughter's hands. he gave a small smile to seem less intimidating than he usually did and straightened out his back a little.

pulling miles away from your guest, you excused the both of you, walking over to the kitchen. "are you insane just coming here like you own this place? you couldn't even bother to call me before showing up here?" you whispered, not needing anyone but miles to hear you.

"excuse me, but you're the one ignoring my calls and leaving me on delivered. I sent you like ten messages but you ain't even look at them huh?" he accused sounding annoyed with you. you thought back to when he was calling you and you ignored him completely, going as far as to put your phone on dnd.

"if you did look at my messages, you would've seen one of me telling you I'm coming over. but you obviously too busy for me," he chuckled, but ain't shit was funny to him. "my fault, lemme get out your way—"

cutting him off, you grabbed his hand under the kitchen island to make sure any lingering eyes couldn't see you. you never want him to feel like you don't have time for him, miles was everything to you.

"no, no i-i'm sorry miles, i'm just a lil stressed right now. i'm handling a lot... don't go, baby stay."

he sighed looking around the room. he was definitely mad in the moment, but he understood what you were dealing with right now at this moment. he squeezed your hand from under the island and nodded his head yes. immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug with a smile.

that was until you heard a cough coming from your living room. turning your head, you were met with the eyes of a wide-eyed woman with her hands folded on her lap, seeming very uncomfortable. almost immediately, you shoved miles away from you and turned to face the woman.

"ahem, uh, s-sorry aunty— i'll be right there," you said looking down at your feet ashamed. you turned to miles and gave a small head nod towards your bedroom, signaling him to reside in there until you were finished.

It only really took around 30 minutes for you to discuss plans on what the dress would look like, and to take the girl's measurements. she showed you her pinterest board of prom dresses she had in mind and you even helped her settle on a photo for you to refer to while making the dress. after the thirty minutes were over, you gifted them some puff puffs your mom cooked earlier that morning and bid them farewell.

sighing in exhaustion, you walked back to your bedroom ready to relax and focus on your current project, only to find your boyfriend hovering over it. he looked absolutely entranced at the sight of the dress, from the jewels sewn into the plunging neckline to the way the rest of the dress shinned whenever the sun from your window hit it just right. he'd seen you wear clothes like this to weddings and whatnot, but every time you managed to blow him away with how effortlessly gorgeous you looked in them.

"it's stunning mi reina," he said, finally turning to face you. you walked up closer to him and leaned your entire body into his, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you think so?"

"baby I know so. you don't even have the dress on and i'm blown away," he reassured to you as he held you closer to him.

looking up at him you reached up to peck his lips, that was until he moved his head back to avoid your kiss.

"what's wrong?" you questioned.

he smirked down at you as he shrugged his shoulders, "nothin', i'm just wondering when you gon' make me a nice suit to match ya dress."

— lord have mercy

— i’m like dying here

— please read lol (｀_´)ゞ

[bosinclairsgff]

Hi! Can I request slashers (mainly the sinclair brothers) possibly laying their hands on reader during an argument and maybe somehow the reader passes out after accidentally hitting their head or something? (Maybe make it extra angsty with blood + reader not waking up to their calls hehe)

What would their reaction be? Both during the accident and how they’d react seeing reader passed out. Angst with fluff in the end please ❤️ (reader can be gn. Tysm!!)

You sicko (I love it) sorry it took my so long writers block has actually been the bane of my existence :(

Also pretty sure I know nothing about how a real concussion works oops. Also I didn’t want them to be the exact same so Vincent’s is a lil different. Hope you still like it!

Warnings: abusive relationship, reader being hurt, cussing and fighting

Includes: Vincent Sinclair and Bo Sinclair

“Where the hell have you been?” You hear Bo yell as soon as you step through the door. It was late around 10:00 and you left at 5. “I’m sorry I went on a walk then ran into Lester and I hung out with him for a few hours. It’s not that big of a deal.” You say trying to calm the situation down. “Lester? You’ve been with Lester this whole goddamn time.” He spits out through gritted teeth. “You know you don’t leave Ambrose unless I say you can. What the fuck is wrong with you.” He says making his way towards you. “Please Bo it’s late I don’t want to fight with you.” That almost seems to piss him off more. Immediately he has a tight grip on your hair. You yelp in pain. “Oh cut the shit y/n. I let you out of that fuckin basement and welcomed you into my home. This is how you treat me? By fuckin around with my own brother?” He screams in your face. You grip his hand trying to get him to ease the grip. “Please Bo I’m sorry! I was just driving around back roads with him! I needed a break from this town!” You cry out. “Do you think I’m fuckin stupid? Huh! You filthy slut!” He yells dropping his grip on your hair letting you hit the ground. Before you can get up he kicks you harshly. You cry out in pain. “Bo! Stop please!” You scream. He lifts you up with ease just to hit you across the face and push you down harshly. As you fall you hit your head on the table near by immediately passing out. “Get the fuck up y/n. I’m not playing into your helpless victim act.” Bo says harshly. Only, you don’t move. “I said get up.” He yells as loud as he can. Again, not a single movement or word from you. You were facing down. He bends over and rolls you over seeing a slight gash on your forehead bleeding pretty badly. His blood runs cold. “Y/n? Come on wake up baby.” He shakes you lightly. When you once again don’t move he starts to panic. Bo picks you up laying you down in the couch. Then running to the kitchen to kind the sewing kit. “Why did you make me do this y/n. Fuckin bitch. All you had to do was listen to me.” He says under his breath. Pulling out a needle and threading it he slowly starts to sew shut the gash. You slightly stir in your sleep. “There we go.” He coos softly. “Knew the bitch wasn’t that easy to kill.” Bo scoffs. Once he’s done sewing you up he pours alcohol over it. Sending a jolt of pain through your body, you whence and start to wake up. He taps your cheek softly. “Wake up.” He says as he stands up walking back to the kitchen putting away everything. By the time he comes back you’ve started to wake up. “B…Bo?” You question. “Yeah? I’m right here.” He sits on the couch lifting you up then laying your head in his lap. He had a beer in his hand. “My head..it really hurts.” You lift a hand to touch your forehead but he grabs it before you can. “I wouldn’t. You don’t want it to get infected.” Bo scoffs. “That’s what happens when you don’t listen to me. Got it? Thought you knew this by now.” He sips his beer. Tears swell up in your eyes. “I’m sorry I just wanted to ride with Lester.” You cry softly. His gaze softens. “You need to ask me before you do some shit like that baby. Look I was worried about you that’s all. So don’t ever think of pulling some shit like that again or I’ll beat the ever loving fuck outta you and you’ll sleep chained up in the basement. Got it?” He looked down at you. “Yes Bo.” You say tiredly. You guys stay silent for a moment before he sighs. “You really fuckin scared me. Thought you were…I don’t know, fuckin dead. You probably have a concussion or sum shit like that.” He sips his beer. “Come here.” Bo opens his arms so you can sit on his lap. You do so. Leaning your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. Kissing the top of your head softly. “You’ll be okay.” He whispers.

Vincent saw you talking to one of the new victims of Ambrose. Only, you were a little too kind in his opinion. Laughing at his jokes, keeping eye contact. He didn’t like it at all. So when he caught the poor guy he made sure his death was slow and painful. Vincent avoided you for the rest of the day. Ignoring you when you tired to talk to him. He didn’t even come up for dinner with you and Bo. You didn’t fully understand why he was so mad at you. So you brought him a plate of food down to his workshop. “Vincent” you call out softly. Not a sound. He doesn’t exactly speak much or really ever but he’ll make a sound to let you know he heard you. “Vincent please eat something.” You call out. He comes out of the corner he was sitting in. You sigh feeling better. “Here I made spaghetti and meatballs. You love this meal.” You smile softly. He makes a sound that almost sounds like a scoff. “What is the matter? You’ve been avoiding me all day? What did I do?” You cry out. He looks at the man he just brutally murdered in the chair getting wax sprayed all over his body. “Him? Oh my god. Because I laughed at his stupid jokes? I thought he was an absolute idiot that’s why I was laughing! You really think I could like someone like him? Grow the fuck up Vincent.” You turn to leave but he grabs your arm harshly. Looking at him with fear he tightness the grip. “Let go..right now Vincent let go.” You say with a shaky breath. He doesn’t let go. You try to pull away. It instantly angers him. Slapping you harshly across the face. Making you fall to the ground. “Vincent!” You cry out. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You scream. That makes it worse. Vincent kicks you with all his strength making you loose your breath. When he see you gasping for air he immediately regrets hitting you. He kneels down and holds you in his arms. You’re coughing and gagging. Vincent pats your back trying to do anything to help. Eventually you stop coughing and start to breath normally. You have blood dripping from your mouth from when he hit you harshly. He wipes it away and whines what you assume was his way of saying I’m sorry. You sit up and open your arms letting him fall into you. Running your fingers through his hair you tell him it’s okay and you aren’t mad at him.

[cameronspecial]

let me, angel hurt to comfort with fluffy ending?

Let Me Help You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Fall Down The Stairs, Blood, Swearing and Stitches.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

A/N: I didn't know what type of hurt you meant so I went with physical hurt.

Masterlist

Y/N is the safe one out of the two. While Rafe is the reckless frat boyfriend, Y/N is the cautious science girlfriend. But even with all her carefulness, her clumsiness can cause her the same amount of pain as Rafe’s rashness. She has been waiting in Rafe’s room while he is in class and his filled hamper catches her eye. They may have been dating for five months, but she still likes to help him with his chores to impress him. She picks up the heavy bag and lugs it out of his room. The frat house’s stairs have always caused her a little discomfort. They are old and rickety, always scaring her when she goes up them alone. His hamper is heavy for her and she worries about going down the stairs with it. She could ask one of Rafe’s brothers to help her, yet she wants to do this by herself. It was a mistake. 

As she tries to take the next step, she catches the edge of it. She jerks forward and the hamper behind her comes down with her. The weight of Rafe’s clothes pushes her down the stairs. She falls to the bottom of the steps with a loud thwack of her head against the banister. The brothers in the house all run toward the source of the sound and panic once they see Y/N crying at the bottom of the stairs. Her hand is covered in blood as she tries to stop the bleeding from her head. “Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?” Kelce worries, approaching the girl to try to help her. She flinches away from his touch. “No, don’t touch me. It hurts,” she sobs. Dylan steps forward also offering her aid. She again moves away from the touch, “No! I want Rafe.” At her words, Jaiden pulls out his phone and dials the frat’s president’s number. 

He had already been on his way home when he got the call, but the news that his angel was hurt and in need of him caused him to speed home. He runs into the house to see a group of people surrounding Y/N. “Move out of the way,” he instructs the crowd. He rushes over to her and sees the blood. “Holy shit, Angel. That is a lot of blood. Come on, we have to get you to the hospital,” he orders, picking her up and jogging to his car. She nuzzles her head in his neck, “It hurts so much, Rafe.” “I know. Let me help you, Angel. I’m going to get you to the hospital. They are going to make you feel all better,” he assures. She doesn’t say anything as he drives away from the fraternity house. 

—

Y/N’s hand grips Rafe’s as the doctor sews the stitches into her head. It kills Rafe to listen to the soft whimpers she lets out as the needle pierces her skin. Once the doctor is done, she rests her head against Rafe’s chest. “Thank you for getting home so quickly and letting me hold your hand,” she whispers, kissing his chest. He looks down at her with a smile, “Of course, I will always be here to comfort you, Angel. I love you.” “I love you too, Rafe. I’m actually a little embarrassed with how I handled things. I was such a crybaby about it.” He shakes his head against hers. “No, you weren’t. You were in pain and you reacted appropriately. If anyone else dares to say otherwise, I’ll have a talking with them,” he jokes. This tugs a giggle out of her and they start heading over to the desk to get her discharged.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama