#are you vitamin deficient girl??

[okapiandpaste]

my dog has been acting very sick this morning. she was moping in her cage and now she won’t eat or drink or go downstairs. however, she got on my bed and sneezed dirt everywhere. she loves sticking her face into dirt and eating dirt is she just too full of dirt??

[deva-arts]

Happy Birthday, Vincent! Where did all the years go?

For the first time in my life, I looked at the people surrounding me and felt nothing but mirth. Ease. Restful, ambrosian peace. It's shockingly foreign. Warms the chest. Stings the eyes. I hope this feeling lasts forever. I capture every detail, dissecting each millisecond that passes, sense by sense. The air on my skin, and the scraps of sunlight hitting me. The way the room looks, and the looks in their faces, their eyes. The different laughs and conversations, some even praising me, offering good wishes. The sweetness from foods I never would have received, and the smooth scent of a home. One that's been lived in and cared about. I want to remember it. Engrave it somewhere deep and secret, so I can always return and find the same sights, smells and sounds. If I can't have that, then I hope it lasts a little longer, at least.

+ Close-ups!

Yeah. Just a little longer.

[itstiannajkae]

can we chat about how having a vitamin d deficiency is linked to depression and suicide amongst black women. the symptoms for having a vitamin d deficiency is commonly known as unexplained depression, excessive tiredness, and unexplained sadness. when was the last time you checked your vitamin d levels?

[dragynkeep]

Israel lost Eurovision and as a Jew I'm disappointed... I can't imagine how disappointed you two are at Ireland for even sending that whore who threatened Israel. It's a sad day for all us Jews.

Get a grip.

[shitty-check-please-aus]

“your cholesterol looks wonderful” hell yeah I’m getting a good grade in bloodwork, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve

[gordontheengineswifenirmal]

I really worry for society sometimes. We have so much information so easily at our fingertips- literally- n yet so many people have the logical genius of a cat turd. They r sooooooo gullible

It would be even worse if the folks who come up with this bollocks have gone to college n gotten degrees. I’m saying this as someone who has graduated from college.

[ID: a tag reading, “#don’t eat citrus if you have any mental health problems #the vitamin C is so bad for you” end ID]

losing my fucking mind over how people will come on here and say just the easiest to disprove absolutely inane lies. for no reason at all

[lemmeaskthedevil]

Marissa not being affectionate on her period shouldn't have been what it was

[britishraptor]

.

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.8

08 : TONIGHT

CHPT. SUM. : you finally get to call them yours and they finally get to call you theirs and it's amazing! but something's missing...and it absolutely has something to do with the ache between your legs! 

LENGTH : 6.1k

TAGS. : very suggestive chapter ; boys and reader being horny for each other ; but do we blame them? no. we. don't! ; james being a pest ; sirius being a hot biker ; remus being a gentleman ; reader being a brat ; remus not being a gentleman anymore ; prologue to nsfw chapter

← PREV. : 07 | APOLOGIES & COMFORT | SERIES M.LIST

You don’t know what you expected when the boys slowly began integrating you into their already-established relationship. In the beginning, you were worried about feeling like an outsider. From what they’ve shared with you, the boys have been best friends since their secondary school years, meaning that their history with each other was deeply rooted and you were intimidated, to say the least. You’re just a simple girl they helped protect from a creep a year or so ago. You couldn’t possibly stack up to the type of love they have with each other.

This was a reasonable insecurity to have, the boys understood that and were always there to reassure you of its negligible influence. And when their words weren’t enough, they happily showered you in affection, from loving kisses to warm embraces. They flirted shamelessly, left lingering touches scorched along your exposed skin and pulled you into kisses that ranged from feather-light to deeply passionate, they were eager to kiss and squeeze that vulnerability away until it no longer remained in your beautiful eyes. And you appreciate them so much for their efforts.

Not a second goes by when you don’t feel loved by them, or underappreciated. The love you reciprocated, although much softer and, somewhat, apprehensive, always made them melt into your arms. It was quite the trial considering how much bigger these men were compared to you. But you didn’t mind. Their warmth and weight against you only reinforced the realness of the situation, your situation, your relationship.

This was a dream come true – the best-case scenario for the mounting love you were amassing for each of the three tattooed and pierced men working at the parlour. If you told yourself this would be the outcome months ago, you wouldn’t have believed your ears.

“You’ve got that starry look in your eyes again, dollface,” Sirius chuckles as he presses a loving kiss to your fluttering eyelids, “what are you thinking? Hmmm?” The tattooist currently had you in his lap, disregarding the clock face on the wall. He was supposed to be preparing for a client who would be arriving soon but, instead of being a responsible tattooist, he had himself preoccupied with you.

“Sirius, you’ve got a client coming soon,” you pout, appearing more stressed over his appointment than he is.

As dramatic as always, Sirius put on a big show of missing you, his arms flailing about with his voice fluctuating in his theatrics, “But I’m feeling very deficient in vitamin ‘you’, sweetheart! I need to get my necessary second dose,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and quietly argue about how this wasn’t his second dose.

“Rather, it’s been your fourth or fifth dose already,” giggling, you endeavour to kiss his pout away before trying to leave so he could have the time to prepare for his appointment while you caught up on your university assignments. Next thing you know, he has you nestled into his lap with your coursework papers set aside and your laptop closed shut. All your attention needed to be on him; he wanted it all.

“We have eight minutes,” he wagered deviously.

You’ve come to find out that Sirius was pretty spoiled when it came to affection. The distinction becomes even more apparent when you compare him to Remus and James. Thankfully, that translated into Sirius happily initiating affection as much as he pleads for it. He’s just this handsome, broad man with the most beautiful grin and the prettiest grey eyes separated by his perfect nose – he’s irresistible, really. And you know that he knows it too; all he has to do is pull those puppy-dog eyes and he gets anything and everything he wants. It’s almost frustrating how he wins your favour each time but you never regret giving into him.

No. Never for Sirius.

…Or Remus. Or James. God, you love these men so damn much!

“Doll?” he tilts his head adorably, a habit he’s picked up from the personified golden retriever himself – James.

“It’s nothing,” you hum, combing your fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to his slightly scratchy jaw. His stubble was growing out ever so slightly and began to cast a light shadow across the lower half of his handsome face.

“Can’t be nothing,” he protests, delivering a loving nuzzle into the crown of your hair, “are you falling for me?~ Tell me the truth, beautiful girl,” he’s as playful as ever, an expert in heating up your cheeks for his own entertainment, “I know you’re shy but you’re also very honest, hmm?” you don’t respond and keep your focus trained on the rose tattoo creeping up his neck, with its expertly shaded thorns and petals. “I might just give you a reward if you’re honest with me,”

With a small smile, you peek up at him from beneath your lashes. The shadows they cast over your vision distract from the obvious pink hue exploding across his cheeks as soon as he catches your gaze, god! Could you get any more beautiful? You need to stop looking at him like that but also, please keep looking at him and never look away again! “I’ve already fallen for you, Sirius Black,”

Sirius’ jaw goes slack as his playful demeanour collapses under you. The prettiest smile he’s ever seen stretches across your plump lips, so kissable and laced with a shy playfulness he’s fallen in love with.

You drive him absolutely mad…

… and he loves it!

James adores scooping you up into his arms. Not only is your resounding squeal the most adorable thing he’s ever heard but he just cherishes the feel of you tucked up in his embrace. For the first time, he fully understands the expression of describing one’s significant other as their whole world. Because when he has you giggling in his arms, clinging to his neck and nuzzling your face into the space under his jaw, James feels as though he’s got the entire world in his arms – he can accomplish anything and everything he sets his mind to. With you in his arms, he’s invincible; there’s a power that surges through him, a little like adrenaline but not quite so. It’s more powerful. He doesn't know what it is or how exactly to articulate its distinctions but he feels its fullness and capabilities like no other. He is the ruler of an empire, a conqueror with his perfect queen ruling beside him.

He is the leading character of a poignant Shakespearean play with you as his equally established partner. He is one half of a star and you are the other. Each is a ridiculous example but each also feels so fitting.

Of course… Only you could have ignited such an unfounded emotion within him.

“You feel it too, right Moony?” James whispers whilst he and the tall body piercer observe your happy movements gracefully puttering about their upstairs office, organising stacks of paperwork for them.

“Love?” Remus asks. It should be the obvious answer – you’re the protagonist of their conversation after all – but astute to James’ unique expressions for the natural and mundane, the brunette knows it’s going to be one of those times when James strongly feels a certain way and finds it hard to put into words. It makes Remus smile knowing that it’s about you – it’s surely something he can sympathise with James on.

“I guess but… it's different, somehow,” he doesn’t quite know how to articulate it, he just feels it. In his chest, in his fingertips, in his throat, in his stomach, even in his toes – he feels it everywhere. How could he not? Just looking at you, James can already justify that what he was feeling was perfectly admissible, whether he could put it into words or not. What he feels is true, it’s real and it gets stronger (almost achingly so) whenever he looks at you. The apple of his eye… never had an expression fit so well.

“I understand,” Remus voices after a deep, rumbling hum. His gaze soon turns to the tattoo artist beside him, fond eyes softening and stepping much closer to him, “I feel it too — for her and you, and Sirius,”

“That’s a given,” James grins boyishly up at his best friend and precious lover before he’s pulled into a loving kiss.

Tucking your chin a little over your shoulder, you glimpse the inviting image of your two lovers locking lips. It was heartening to see that their love for one another hadn’t changed because of your recent entanglement with them too. There was always a little corner of worry in your heart for potentially breaking their bond due to your interference.

The last time you let that same emotion control you, the aftereffects were explosive and unnecessarily wounding to all parties so you keep the emotion in check often, the boys too. But there was no complete dismissal of it. As much as you adore the boys and their love for you, you also adore their love for each other. It was incredibly inspiring to see what they had built together. Their parlour, their love, their quaint, shared flat.

But now, you also had the privilege of seeing them share more intimate acts of love and it was leading to a bad habit, a bad staring habit. So much so that you didn’t notice the two breaking away from each other until their devious smirks were solely directed at you.

“Care to join us, my dear?” Remus calls his voice like a hypnotising whisper, pulling invisible strings to shift your feet forward and lure you in. In no time at all, you’re close enough for the two to lock you between their strong, tattooed arms and finally launch their attack. You’re not complaining.

You’re so grateful to be able to join in their love and be with them like this. And you’re curious about what the four of you would end up building together one day. Rather than a small flat, maybe a house? A family? With kids? Fur-babies? A cat or dog? Maybe both? Regardless, one promise was absolutely certain: a happy life that’s bursting at the seams with love – it was a very compelling thought.

Finally winding down for the night, you separate from the boys and remain tucked away in their neatly prepared spare bedroom. James and Sirius were proud to announce that they had tidied the place up for you; Remus would have contributed as well if it weren’t for him being the main man who handled the paperwork for the parlour.

You thanked the two for their thoughtfulness with a kiss but also kissed Remus for his hard work in ‘keeping their business alive’. It was a cheeky remark but one that got an adorable pout from James and Sirius along with a well-humoured laugh from the tall brunette himself. There was a love in his eyes that made you weak in the knees, his chocolate pools staring down at you, threatening to drown you in their warmth, his fingers ghosting the skin of your chin and ever so gently tilting your face to admire your features better. He moved as if he were propping up a delicate art piece, not wanting to press too harshly but enough to warrant a sensitive and lingering touch.

“You spoil us,” he utters as a heat blooms across your cheeks and a small peep pushes past your lips. Mistaking your incoherent squeak for verbal thought, Remus bends down at the waist with curious and furrowed brows, “What was that, my dear?” James and Sirius lightly snicker to themselves from the interaction. You would have scolded them for their childish behaviour if Remus didn’t have you melting into a puddle from doing absolutely nothing!

“I-It’s nothing, Rem,” thankfully, he didn’t need much convincing. Having him that close was intimidating – you just can’t believe that this beautiful, soft-spoken, loving and gentle giant of a man is yours.

The boys had allowed you to use the bathroom first and followed after you for their night routine. From where you sat at the vanity, you often catch yourself smiling and sometimes even giggling when you hear their antics echoing through the hallway. It was all very amusing and you had to bite your lip when thoughts of normalising this scenario into a nightly routine materialised in your head. It was still early on in your otherwise unconventional relationship and you didn’t want to risk anything. An eagerness for more was healthy but over-eagerness wouldn’t be worth potentially commencing an accelerated rate of negative interactions.

Going through your nightly skincare, you hum a soft tune to yourself. It felt like you were at your own flat, getting ready for bed as if it was any other night and the familiarity was surprising. You didn’t feel out of place at all despite the new environment. Although, you wouldn't expect anything less from your boys. They really knew how to make you feel welcome. At least you know that you’ll be sleeping restfully tonight.

“Almost ready for bed, Angel?” James’ sudden appearance in the doorway makes you tense before playfully pouting at him, especially when he has the gall to giggle at your startled reaction, “Awww~ don’t be like that, love~” he coos, walking up to stand behind your seated form. He, too, bends at the waist to kiss behind your ear and trail loving pecks down your neck to the slopes of your shoulder.

“My night routine is meant to be relaxing, Jamie,” you huff but he can hear the smile in your voice and looks up with his beautiful eyes, meeting your gaze in the vanity mirror. Slowly, he pulls his lips away from your exposed shoulder.

With a devilish smirk, he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “I can help you with that…” You feel his feathery touch tracing the curves of your waist, coming up from your hips, “Relaxing, I mean~”

“James!”

He throws his head back with a laugh that makes his shoulders shake and his pretty curls bounce ever so slightly. He’s risen to his full height now and resists the urge to caress the skin of your cheek, respectful of your freshly applied skincare — he’s had to put up with Sirius’ grumbles and whines after mistakenly kissing his still dewy, moisturised cheek on previous nights. And James wouldn’t want to ruin your first night here like that. He’s no amateur. Instead, James concedes to caressing your hair and placing a loving kiss onto your crown. He loves the combined smell of your hair products and natural scent. It’s solely you; a fragrance that could never be contained in a bottle, which is, both, a pity and a relief. A pity that he can’t carry a small bottle around whenever he’s missing you horribly bad. But a relief that something so intimate about you couldn’t be shared beyond him, Sirius and Remus. James would rather set the world ablaze before that ever came to fruition.

“Alright, my love, I’ll leave you be…” you begin to sigh in relief until, “-for now~”

“James!” you giggle sweetly, and he joins you not too long after, “You’re such a pest!”

He cackles adorably as he walks back to the door, making his exit swift and injury-free – he, just barely, evades your swatting hands. The two of you gradually allow your shared merriment to fade into a comfortable silence. You return to completing your skincare routine while James remains at the doorway.

From afar, the tattooist quietly admires your figure, elegant and so… so girly as you go through your nightly regime. It wasn’t a bad thing seeing your femininity shine through was refreshing. Sure, Sirius partook in the same self-care religiously, at the start of every day and the beginning of every night but you, with your cosy pyjamas, fuzzy slippers, panda ears headband and prettily laid out products, have James bewitched; entranced in the most blissful way. He likes seeing and observing you like this. So comfortable that there isn’t a single change in your routine; so comfortable that you’re humming to yourself; so comfortable that you look like you belong here. Truthfully, he’s wanted to ask you to move in for quite some time now but understands the importance of going at a steady pace and one that everyone agrees on.

You all finally have each other to call your own, that’s what truly mattered at the end of the day. So he holds himself back.

The routine you have is quite thorough so you’re not one to exclude your neck area or chest. As you adjust your clothes to prep your neck and chest area, James glimpses more and more of your skin each time. Naturally, his cheeks colour a soft pink while his thoughts are gradually consumed by all the things he wants to do to you — bending you over every piece of furniture in the flat, not discounting the walls or the carpeted floor, even atop and inside his beloved car. Every hot and crude detail is uncensored, the images that flash in his head are dangerously explicit and encompass you wholely. Your pleasure is his top priority. He’ll have you moaning in his ear, panting for breath as he goes faster, harder, whatever you want, as long as you keep singing for him. Singing until you’re screaming and reaching your peak over and over and over—

“The door locks, y’know,” James mentions casually, not surprising you as much this time. Although his random comment does make you raise a brow.

“Oh?” you apply your berry-flavoured lip mask and smile at him through the mirror with a hint of curiosity, “Okay, thank you for telling me, Jamie,” it still wasn’t clear to you what he was trying to get at with his casual but warning remark.

“Are you going to lock it for the night?” his question makes you stop for a moment, what was he trying to say? “I think you should lock it, angel… you don’t want any surprise visitors — it’s hard resisting you this long,” he had a teasing smile on his lips but there was a dark look in his eyes that made you shudder. That’s what he meant…

“A-alright,”

He pauses, appearing to contemplate something as he leans forward but ultimately decides against his earlier intentions and straightens his posture accordingly, “that’s my good girl,” you watch his sly smirk disappear from the vanity mirror. It takes you a few moments longer to return to your skincare routine.

Sirius smirks at you with an amused glint in his eye, “do you want to sit on it?” he asks, his big hand gently patting the seat of his bike. Being able to see right through you and read your inner thoughts was one of Sirius’ many talents. It amazed you but also made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Were you really that transparent and readable? To Sirius, you were, but that’s only because he’s grown to have a keen eye for you and your little quirks; he finds them adorable and adores being able to read your thoughts, so that he knows he’s catering to you well.

Your hesitation is obvious. It’s not like you haven’t ridden on his motorbike before; you’ve ridden on it plenty of times. However, it was usually with you seated behind Sirius. For a while, you contemplated whether or not it would feel different to be the actual biker. You didn’t know how to ride a motorbike so you were secretly hoping that Sirius would allow you to hop on after he did his routine motorbike maintenance. It was common to do these checks and services every 6 months, but because Sirius used his motorbike so often, he tracked the regular services based on the miles he covered. He’s already crossed 4000 miles so his bike was due for some maintenance already.

“Are you sure?” you ask in a voice that’s so soft and sweet, Sirius can’t help but temper his smirk into a warm smile.

“It’s safe, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it,” the bright grin you gifted him made Sirius question why he hadn’t thought to make such an offer sooner. It was clear that you were interested in his bike but he didn’t know whether or not he was deciphering your intentions correctly, until now. With a skip in your step, you make your way over as Sirius chuckles to himself.

You’re just too cute~

“Thank you, Siri,” you reach up to cup his jaw and gently guide him down to press a loving kiss against his cheek.

“Anything for you, Doll,” he kisses your cheek as well, just before you get the chance to pull too far away from him. Sirius then guides you onto his motorbike, offering to stabilise you with his hands on your hips as you get settled on the seat. With his strength alone, he takes the bike off his kickstand and straightens it from the back so that you can experience what it’s really like without the bike being slanted to the side. The tattooist is much taller than you and so you aren’t able to fully flatfoot your feet, instead your toes barely brush the ground. Seeing that you’re able to just swing your feet back and forth, a quiet giggle escapes you – music to Sirius’ ears.

“This is fun!” you cheer softly, still quite shy as you glance over your shoulder with a flutter of your lashes, meeting eyes with the inked-up biker, who was grinning brightly at you. His strong arms are on full display, tattoos and all, as he holds the bike straight and steady from behind. He’s dressed in a simple black tank top and loose grey joggers. It’s a style that James often wears around their flat but you’re not surprised that Sirius was able to pull off the look too. With a face like his, you can easily determine that he’d suit any style he tries on.

“Why don’t you try pretending you’re actually riding it by grabbing onto the handles,” he encourages, excited. Having James, Remus and you as his loves were heaven on earth, but being able to share one of his favourite hobbies and his beloved motorbike fostered a different kind of haven in his heart. It’s overflowing and shows easily in his voice.

“Okay!” eagerly, you lean forward to grasp onto the handles and, with a feverish buzz, pretend you’re actually riding the bike out on the road. From backpacking behind Sirius so often, imagining the shift in positions and being the actual biker was quite easy. What a thrill! No wonder Sirius makes up any excuse to be out on his bike.

Yes, you’re still stationary but it’s just too easy to imagine everything, from the wind in your hair to the adrenaline pumping through your veins, encouraged by the rapidly passing views on either side of you. A view of the seaside at sunset is very appealing but winding country roads also offer great scenery. You can hear your heartbeat rising to match your vision and you have to bite your lip to contain an elated laugh. There’s no need to embarrass yourself even more, especially with Sirius behind you.

So stuck in your pretending, you miss Sirius’ partially restrained groan of frustration from behind your leant-over figure, “Fuck. Me…” he has the perfect view of your ass. And when you’re bent over his bike like this, his joggers tighten up around his crotch alarmingly fast. Never mind that the joggers were already very loose-fitting, he can’t help himself when you’re offering him such a spectacular view. And to have it be on top of his motorbike too…

The things you do to him… the things he would do to you.

Suppressing another groan, Sirius hurries to free his kickstand and lean his bike over before you realise what’s happening. It takes a lot of strength and agility but his focus has narrowly concentrated on you and nothing was going to get in his way. He has to resist going all the way – for now – but that doesn’t mean resigning himself to zero contact at all.

“Siri–?!” you squeal in surprise when he lifts you off his bike and positions you in a way that forces your legs to wrap around his hips from fear of falling, while his arms circle your hips, “what’s this all about?” you give an adorable tilt of your head as you look down at him, perched a little higher on his torso so that your hands could place themselves on his sturdy shoulders while his arm provides a sort of seat for you underneath.

“I’ll show you what this is about,” his voice is several octaves lower, barely recognisable from where they resonate at the far back of his throat. His big hands grab the globes of your ass and lower you down from your upper perch so that he grinds your covered pussy lips against his erect cock. Even through the fabric of his joggers, the sheer size of him is obvious and it’s mortifying how wet you get. He keeps you pressed against him as he swallows your shocked gasp, prying your lips apart with his tongue so he can explore your sweet mouth.

“...you can’t be showing your perfect ass like that – so pretty on top of my bike – without facing the consequences, dollface,”

“But!” you manage to protest between his eager lips, “but you said–!”

“I know what I said,” he bites at your lower lips and grinds against you, “I guess we’re both at fault that I’m like this right now, huh, baby?” he pulls away to suck and nibble on your neck, loving the moans he draws from you, “Nothing a little loving can’t fix, right?”

He won’t go too far… just a little grinding here and there while he devours your pretty little mouth. That’s all he’s asking for. And, being the lovely, kind princess that you are, of course, you oblige him.

“A-alright…” you conceded, finally trying to match his level of eagerness when his lips connected with yours once more.

“That’s my girl~”

The initial week everything came to a head, where all was revealed and you ended up spending the night at the boys’ flat, only for disaster to hit in the form of your period the next day was weeks behind you now. You're surprised that a week after that – when you had finally gotten off your dreaded period – Remus didn’t pounce on you. Nor did James. Or Sirius. Now an entire month has passed and still nothing. James and Sirius have been more impassioned than Remus but it appears as though they’re more united than ever on the simple fact of ‘going easy’ on you.

The tall brunette insinuated such provocative things that night. Thinking back to that moment makes butterflies explode in your stomach, all while a ravenous heat spreads chaotically throughout your body. That same heat then stubbornly settles between your legs and in your lower belly. You’re ashamed to admit that you were really looking forward to what Remus planned on doing to you…

But now he’s being the perfect gentleman again and you don’t know what to do!

You love how gentlemanly he is, kissing you sweetly on the cheek, whispering loving, poetic words only for you to hear, listening to anything and everything you wanted to say with the utmost attention and interest, pulling doors open for you, doing little favours that made your days go by smoother and so much more. It felt incredibly unreasonable to complain when there was nothing to complain about! Though… were you really complaining? If you think about it, all you would be doing is expressing your opinion and providing some constructive criticism for what you want out of the relationship – there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?

When you officially became theirs and them, yours, it was established and emphasised heavily by Remus, himself, that communication was key to having a successful and loving relationship. If something was wrong, you could go to them without any hesitation; they promised to never disregard your worries or dismiss them apathetically. And you made the same promise to them, in return. If they were ever feeling insecure about something in the relationship then they could communicate any concerns they have to you without feeling an ounce of fear. By verbalising your, somewhat, embarrassing internal torment, you’d be keeping your promise and prioritising communication — just like you all promised each other!

So you have nothing to worry about…

It’s just a little hard to verbalise that’s all…

…maybe you should wait until after dinner tonight? Remus looks a little busy right now…

“Don’t look at me with those eyes, pretty girl,” Remus’ low, bordering seductive, voice tenses your nerves, pulling a lazy chuckle from the back of his throat at the adorable sight of your surprise, “you’re distracting me,” he emphasises his statement with the tap of his pen onto the papers laid out before him. Despite his comment, however, he doesn’t sound angry and he’s not frowning either. Instead, Remus has his chin in the palm of his hand and tilts his head at you, smiling fondly at your visage.

“You look like you don’t mind it,” you shot back, voice shy but quippy, parallel to the defiant folding of your arms.

Remus throws his head back with a laugh before shaking his head at you. His smile widens and he bites his lower lip to force it down just a little bit. As you put on a playful pout, your earlier thoughts slipping from your mind, the tattooed body piercer rolls over to you on his wheeled office chair.

Reaching you in a few long strides, knee to knee, he disregards your sassy comment and simply asks, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

A heat crawls up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks as your earlier contemplations return. It’s a little hard to muster up your courage to speak right now. And, conveniently, the carpeted floors look very interesting all of a sudden.

“I-It was nothing,” you unfold your arms and fidget with the hem of your pleated skirt; your gaze still fixed onto the office’s dark grey carpet.

He quirks a brow but doesn’t say anything despite the question evident in his chocolate-brown eyes. His gaze holds onto your own, the small smile on his lips calming your earlier taut nerves. In your peripheral, Remus slides his fingertips over the skin of your thighs, his movement careful and feathery until he hears you suck in a sharp breath. As soon as your eyes widen, shocked by his unexpected touch and you release a sharp gasp, Remus throws all care out the window. He proceeds to slide his grip under your thighs and, hoists you up and over to sit on his lap. Thankfully his office chair doesn’t have any armrests so he’s able to comfortably seat you there, pretty as can be.

“You’re sure you can’t tell me?” he asks in a murmur, muffled by the skin of your temple as he presses a soft kiss there.

“It’s really nothing!” you squeak, avoiding his eyes and missing his fond smile as he watches you fumbling with your hands. He keeps you perfectly seated on his lap from where he firmly grips your outer thighs. Your skin is so soft and smooth with the perfect amount of fluff, to fill it in – he loves all of you but if he had to choose, he’d say your thighs were his favourite feature.

“You can be honest with me,” you don’t answer, tucking your flustered face into the crook of his neck instead. Fondly, he begins to caress the back of your head with one hand, the other still on your thigh. He lowers his voice into a quiet murmur so only you can hear, “Why don’t you whisper it to me instead?”

Funnily enough, his suggestion, no matter how simple, was convincing. It was meant for his ears only and you didn’t want to risk anyone else hearing your inner thoughts out loud. Also, the idea of whispering your carnal contemplations felt… safer somehow. Intimate too but you ran with it, your thoughts begging to be released.

Leaning up, you place one hand on his broad chest, the other on his shoulder so as to position your lips beside his ear with enough stability, “I was just thinking about…umm,”

“Hmm?...” you feel his thumbs caressing the skin of your thighs — a comforting gesture that you feel embarrassed for being unsuited to your pending admission.

“About you…”

Something flashes in his eyes, “...What about me, my love?” he hopes to god he hasn’t upset you.

You pause to muster up enough courage, “...about what you said you would do to me that night…” Hopefully, he knows what you’re referring to because you don’t think you’ll be able to articulate his exact words or the entire situation properly. You’re already far too sheepish.

Holding your breath, you wait for some sort of reaction, maybe a spoken word? Something… But Remus’ lips are sealed shut and there’s only silence. Your heart hammers in your ears as you slowly pull away from the safety of your lover’s neck and peek up to gauge his reaction, only to find that his face shows no emotion at all. You’re tempted to whisper his name, a soft prompt and an indirect request for some sort of answer when he’s suddenly pulling you into a deep kiss. One hand cups your jaw as the other explores your curves. His movement and the feeling he imbues in the kiss – all of it points to an impatience and a vicious need, the need to have you in every way possible.

Remus explores the lines of your shape but makes a small sound of displeasure when his hands are unable to sneak up the AC/DC graphic shirt you stole from Sirius as it’s tucked into your pleated skirt. Quickly, he moves his large hands back to your exposed thighs. You hold your breath as you feel his warm touch move up your warm skin, far enough to sneak past the hem of your pleated skirt.

“Please…” Remus relishes in the moan that parts your delicious, bruised lips, “I can take it! Please please please,” you gasp and pant, your shaking voice emphasising your desperation for more. You’ve waited so long, you’ve been so patient, you’re ready for this! The feel of his lips against your skin is addictive but your addiction is insatiable from that alone and you beg for more.

“Are you sure about that?” Remus’ lips make it to the shell of your ear, where his husky voice whispers as he grabs at your ass. With his hands full of you, he pulls you in to grind his bulging hardness against your puffy, lower lips and dampening panties. He relishes in the moans that you can’t contain behind trembling, kiss-bitten lips and smirks when he hears the click of the office door opening.

“She’s ready for us then?” James asks, the smirk on his lips obvious through the smug tone of his voice.

“It’s about damn time,”

Remus smiles as you tuck your flustered face into the crook of his neck and gives your ass a reassuring squeeze beneath your skirt, “Tonight, sweetheart,”

You pout at his remark and pull away with a huff, “No!” you protest defiantly, “Now!” You’re tired of waiting! And what’s the use of their upstairs, private office space if you can’t do private things in it?

“Don’t be a brat, dove,” Remus warns, the usual warmth leaving his eyes as Sirius and James step into the room and close the door behind them but don’t step an inch closer.

“But I’ve waited so long, please Rem, I promise I can take it—” you squeal loudly when a harsh slap hits your ass. So caught up in your needs, you completely missed how Remus used one hand to lift your skirt while his other prepared to deliver penance.

“Rem–!” ignoring your whining, he sits down to bend you over his lap and continues beating your ass despite your shrieks of pain. It wasn’t until you were a whimpering tearful mess that Remus finally relented, his big hand returning to their gentle touches as he comfortingly palms your sore ass. He’s sorry. But you were being a brat.

“Brats don’t deserve to get what they want, even if they say please, do I make myself clear?”

Unable to vocalise properly through your tears and pitiful whimpers, you simply nod your head but squealed when Remus cupped your tender asscheek and gave it a firm squeeze of displeasure, “Y-yes sir,”

“Good girl,” Remus hums softly,

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT : 09 | THE NIGHT... →

A/N : next chapter will be where everything goes down my loves! i hope you're prepared and i'm sorry for making you all wait this long; what can i say? i love a good slow burn smut hehe~

again, i'd like to remind everyone that i have discontinued all my taglists but made a side account for you to follow so you can be notified whenever i post something new, just turn on notifications @thekqipond

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[brutal-nemesis]

YYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Spiderwebs #27: Proof

Masterlist

content: immortal whumpee, captivity, starvation, gore, organ stuff, self-injury

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Heather dreaded the end of the three months, and it was not entirely an irrational fear. Jackie was capable of killing her. She had chainsaws and scalpels, but what were blades in the face of an immortal? What were weapons in the shadow of an undying rage? Maybe that was a ridiculous thought, but it seemed a very real threat to her. He probably hated her even more now. Heather would too, if she was in his place.

The days passed. The final week arrived. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. She became so anxious at work that she threw up in the bathroom. Thursday. Friday. She considered leaving him locked in there forever, just so she never had to confront him. Saturday. And finally, Sunday.

Sunday morning was too cheery for such heavy work, so she waited until Sunday evening. Sunday was the Lord’s day. That didn’t mean anything to her anymore, but it was a memory that kept running in her mind. In any case, she had made her decision. She was going down there. Heather wasn’t that cruel, as to completely abandon him, and she wasn’t a monster. She had to check up on him eventually. 

She wasn’t going unarmed, that was for sure. The scalpel and the pistol were secured in her bookbag, and then she set off. She found the basement door across the hallway. Right where it always was. She moved the table from where it stood guard, pushed it aside. But she hesitated before turning the lock.

One, two, three heartbeats. Then her hand darted out to the doorknob. She twisted the lock until it clicked open.

Nothing happened. There was nothing but silence. She was still alive, still breathing. Her colleagues never saw the bruise on her neck—she covered it over with makeup—and it faded away over the months. But the memory was still there, the pressure on her throat.

Heather swallowed her tension, then entered the doorway. The lights were off. This wasn’t helping things, but she persevered. She closed the door behind her, then turned on the lights. She walked down the stairs.

She reached the last step. The room was a mess. Furniture toppled everywhere, items strewn about in furious abandon, the smell of dust clouding over them. The light was so dim as to cast the room into a yellowish, dull tint. A place more fit for slaughtering pigs than living in.

She looked up, let her sight adjust. She almost flinched. 

Jackie was staring straight at her. He was sitting on the bed, across the room. 

He looked different. Different in a bad way. He’d gotten much thinner, first of all, hollowed at the edges like a stray dog. His hair was matted and longer than it had been before. His eyes seemed strained, and the shadows underneath them were heavy.

He blinked, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. He did not say anything.

Three months. Heather was starting to realize what she had done. They reserved solitary confinement for the worst of the worst. Even then, they fed their prisoners. Three months was a long time. 

“Jackie?” she called out. “It’s me.”

He blinked again.

She stepped forward, cautiously, treading slowly so as not to startle him. He watched her all the while, with that feral sort of stare. There was an insubstantial aura to him, like he’d flicker or fade away if she wasn’t careful, if she wasn’t watching closely enough. She held her hand out, aiming to put it on his shoulder.

To her great bewilderment, he stood up to face her. “You win.”

She froze. “What?”

“You win, I said. I give up. You can do whatever you want with me. You—” His calm voice began to crack, took on a tilt. “I can’t live like this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do anything like that ever again. I missed you, I—”

“You… missed me?” Surely, she’d heard him wrong. Or he really had lost his marbles.

He continued to speak, eyes wet and shining all the while. “I missed you so much. I—I love you, Heather. Don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

Well, this was certainly… new. This was different. All the way from murderous hatred to… love. But that was ridiculous. That was…

“What do you mean, you love me?” She furrowed her brows. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes, completely.” He nodded, desperately, like his life depended on her believing him. Perhaps it did. “I love you.”

It was the way he kept repeating it, the strain in his voice. This wasn't right, but she didn't want him to stop. It overflowed from his mouth like honey. And he sounded so eager, so fervent.

He grabbed her sleeve, tightly. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t.” This was quite a pleasant surprise to walk in on. Even if he was lying, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

His expression was earnest, in any case. He was staring into her eyes like she was an angel. Her fear was gone entirely. She had nothing to be afraid of. Everything had worked out perfectly. It was too good.

He stared at her, waiting. 

She slapped him, hard. Hard enough that his head was pushed back. Hard enough to make him flinch. He cowered under her gaze. But he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. 

She leaned in closer. Her lips almost brushed the shell of his ear. “You’re pathetic.”

He didn’t reply, still didn’t move, although his breathing had become shallow and hitching. His gaze had gone somewhere else, somewhere distant.

“You’re not going to hit me back, are you?” she asked softly. 

He shook his head.

“Good. Do you still love me?”

He nodded. It was disgusting, the look on his face. He would roll over and fetch if she asked him to.

“Prove it.”

“What do you want?” He fixed on her, again, that earnest expression. “I’ll do anything.”

Silently, she handed him the scalpel from her book bag. She pushed his hand forward, pressing the blade gently to his sweater, just slightly to the left. Still guiding his movements, she helped him trace two curves over the fabric, perfectly mirrored, creating a single shape—the lover’s symbol, sweet in its simplicity. She let go and waited for his reply.

He understood. He knew her well enough. Jackie steadied the scalpel, grasping it until his knuckles were straining under the skin. He aimed it above his chest. 

With a sharp jerk, he plunged it into himself. He began to dig out his own heart. 

It took an uncomfortably long time—that is, uncomfortable for anyone else. Heather was loving every second of this. The blade went in, dragging through flesh and cotton, then ripped out, over and over. He was not as precise as Heather. Didn’t have a surgeon’s careful hand. The surrounding skin and flesh was torn and rendered into jagged edges. His ribs cracked, his blade squelched. Blood dripped down onto the concrete, onto his lovely checkerboard sweater. His eyes went unfocused. Even with his sallowed skin and hollowed bones, he was very pretty. He winced, but he never stopped. Jackie coughed, and more blood trickled out his mouth. 

By the time he’d severed an artery, his motions grew lethargic. His blood dripped thick, nearly the consistency of jam. His heart wasn’t healing as quickly as it usually did. The wound was dark, festering in his chest.

Heather took his hand and, with gentle motions, helped him cut out the rest of the organ. The arteries, the veins, the remaining tissues. She snapped ribs away where necessary, letting them drop to the floor. His bones were surprisingly brittle. They cracked like twigs, while his pulse slowed and smeared on her skin. 

It was a marvel of muscle and nerves, even though she had seen it many times before. Light broke apart and glittered on its surface. It lay heavy in his hands, warm and still weakly beating. 

He handed it to her with another rasping cough. Blood slicked both of their palms. His eyes fluttered, but snapped open before they could close.

She took it, felt the warm flesh press against her hand, felt it convulse in erratic rhythms. “Oh, good boy. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Jackie was completely out of it. He may not have heard her praise at all. He blinked at her once more, then placed a steadying hand on her arm, swaying on his feet all the while. Before Heather could react, he fainted. 

She did not catch him in time. He lay there, sprawled on the ground. All bones and blood. There was a gaping hole in his sweater, and dark red was splattered all over his cracked lips. 

She knelt down to pick him up. His head lolled to one side, and his limbs went limp in her grasp. She could not feel a pulse. Anyone else would have thought he was dead, but Heather knew he would wake up soon.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Wow, love really does fix everything :)

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

@lthrboy

@whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation

[haya-jouda]

Hello Please pay attention🙏🙏

Hello everyone, I am Haya Jouda, a Palestinian refugee from Gaza City and a mother of three male children, the youngest of whom is Youssef.

As you know, the fierce and destructive war is still continuing on my beloved city...

Like all Gazans, I and my children have tasted the bitterness and oppression of displacement many times in dangerous places that are unsafe and unfit for life in any way...

During the displacement process, I noticed that my little boy's health was not good, and suddenly he fell into a coma, only to find out after miserable tests in the dilapidated and destroyed hospitals that he had suffered from a malfunction of the pancreatic system resulting in (type 1 diabetes), severe vitamin D deficiency, kidney and liver dysfunction, and severe infections in the urinary system....

I gathered my strength and decided to defy all odds and get out of Gaza at any cost in a last attempt to save my little boy ... I travelled to Egypt, where I have no means of travelling, no costs for my son's treatment and no money...

I am a homeless refugee in a country where I and my children have nothing....

But I refuse to give in to despair and with a heart full of oppression and sadness, I extend my hand to get your help and solidarity with my innocent child. ....

Your support will give my child a new life in good health ....

Please share my 6-year-old son's story widely to reach all those who want to help, love and donate on my child's link in the programme. ⤵️

Your donation can sow hope for my little boy's survival for a better life and future...

I love you and thank you.

my campaign is vetted by

🙏 vetted by ✅ @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #170 )

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[idontmindifuforgetme]

pussy from a girl who is deficient in every vitamin you can imagine

[jyoongim]

~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

Chapter two chapter four

Chapter 3

Note: sooooo as y’all know Alastor and wife!reader have already been married for a few years (by the time they have their last child their marriage will be 16-20 years.) 

Since you had mentioned wanting children, Alastor has taken it upon himself to fuck you on very surface in the house. You had never seen your husband so riled up. When he returned from work, he would always somehow coax you upstairs to make a mess of you. You were often filled with his cum that you were sure you had to be pregnant by now, but you didn’t think about it too much, just letting nature do its thing.

You were prepping for lunch, as Alastor said he wanted to come home and eat.  You decided to keep it simple, opting to make salmon cakes and cabbages. The cabbages were boiling as you moved on to make the cakes. When you opened the can of fish, the smell made you queasy, making your stomach lurch and you quickly made yourself to the bathroom.

You had broken out in a cold sweat as you dry heaved into the toilet. You whimpered as your stomach twisted. You have never had such a reaction to fish before, so why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

You splashed some cold water on your face and looked at your reflection.

Eyes scanning yourself in the mirror,  you couldn’t see what ailment had fallen over you. You looked a little pale but that could be from anything. Your eyes lingered on your midsection.

could you be…

You turned and pressed your hands against your stomach, smoothing out your dress to be flat. Heart beating out your chest, you caressed your stomach. Your stomach had a slight bump, something that you had chalked up from your indulgence in sweets. But it was rounder than how it usually looked.

Your eyes widened and quickly went downstairs to phone the doctor.

—————————————————————————————-

“Well ma’am congratulations! It would appear you are around 12 weeks.” 

The doctor smiled at you, waiting for your response.

You were stunned. 

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You cleared your throat nervously “w-what am i suppose to do?”

The question held uncertainty but you had no idea what or how to process this news.

A small part of you was happy, you finally were gonna have a baby with Alastor. The other part was nervous and scared, you didn’t have the slightest thought on how to raise a child.

The doctor chuckled “Its normal to be scared or nervous. This is your first time after all but don’t worry. I recommend attending mothering classes, to get the knowledge and familiar with baby terms, symptoms, and how to prepare. You’re a bit vitamin-deficient but more fruits and greens can help with that. You’ll experience morning sickness here and there so don’t push yourself. The important thing is that you get as must rest as possible. Stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

You jotted down some notes as the doctor filled you with some information and thanked him for his time. He gave you your next appointment and answered any other health questions you had. You made a mental note to visit these mommy classes.

You sighed as you closed the door to your home. Your mind was reeling and you were filled with so many emotions.

You hadn’t thought you would get pregnant so soon but Alastor was very if not persistent when it came to keeping you filled.

You soon had a smile on your face as you thought of the little one growing within you. You knew Alastor didn’t mind having a baby, but you couldn’t help but wonder how he would react to the news. 

Would he be excited to be a Daddy? Would he want a boy or a girl?

You were sure he wouldn’t mind either way.

You couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.

————————————————————————————————-

Alastor let some jazz tunes play as he looked over some scripts and news for his next segment. He stole a glance at the clock and got up from his chair, grabbing his jacket.

 It was lunch time.

He was headed home to spend his break with his wife.

A pleasant shiver ran through him at the thought of taking his sweet wife over the meal she prepared for him.

He had been fucking his wife nonstop since she mentioned children and the thought of her swollen with his child always sent his cock swelling.

He placed his hat and jacket on the couch as he made his way to the kitchen. He was greeted with the sight of you dressed fairly comfortable, not in your usual polished attire. Your hair was pinned up and wrapped, you were dressed in your silk robe, which was dropping off your shoulders, exposing them. You were humming as you washed the dishes.

You looked ravishing.

He crept up behind you, making you jolt when his long arms wrapped around your midsection. He pressed his lips to the junction of your neck, littering your shoulder and neck in kisses. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes darlin” he drawled, nuzzling his nose into the underside of your jaw. You giggled as Alastor nipped at your skin, wiping your soapy hands on a towel you spun around to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss his lips “Hello to you too dear. I hope you’re hungry. I made fish cakes. Dont want you too tired heavy with a full meal when you have to dazzle the masses”

A wide smile stretched across his face, eyes lidded “What if I just want dessert?” He jested as you swatted at his broad chest with a blush sprouting on your face.

“Oh shush! Sit down and eat” you huffed, shoving a plate into his chest.

Alastor chuckled and took the plate and moved to leaned over the kitchen island.

”Are you feeling ok my dear? Not that I mind, no, but you seem tired” he took a took a sip of tea, eyeing you.

You fidget with your fingers “I am feeling better, had a bit of a upset stomach this morning and paid the doctor a visit” you tried to hide your smile as his brows furrowed and dropped the cake to look you over like a worried hen.

His hands took yours as he frowned “you’re not coming down with anything are you? Why ain’t you page me at the studio i would have gladly took you.”

You leaned into his chest, smiling at him “weeelll i did come down with something and I fear i wont be rid of it anytime soon” oh you were torturing the poor man.

He had panic in his eyes as he was unaware of what it was. Wanting to remain strong and supportive for your sake.

”well whatever it is I will make sure to be there with you through it all” he declared.

Oh this was sweet.

”did the doctor tell you what it was at least?” He asked.

You smiled, catching him off guard, as you placed his hands on your stomach. Alastor was confused when you did so, his hands spanned along your stomach. You were a bit rounder but you did like sweets.

You watched as the realization dawned on his face. His jaw dropped and his brown eyes looked at your in shock. “A-are you…” you frantically nodded, unable to conceal your giggling as he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you.

”Oh darling really? Youre..you’re really? Youre pregnant?” His voice grew excited.

”hehehe yes yes were having a baby! Alastor we are having a baby” your face was attacked in kisses. “Doc said im 12 weeks, looks like your resilience paid off” you giggled as your husband smoothed his hands over your stomach, crouching down as he laid his forehead against the bump.

”A-are you happy?” You couldn’t help but ask. He looked up at you, eyes shining and smile big “Oh baby you just don’t know.” He kissed your stomach, cooing, before kissing your lips. “You’ve made me the happiest. Almost like we got married all over again” he whispered against your lips.

He rested a hand on your stomach, caressing the bump. “Ooh I can’t wait to see how motherhood shapes you cher” he kissed your forehead, making you sigh lovingly.

Alastor had decided to page the studio to tell them something came up at home and the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled on the couch; Alastor had you tucked into his side as he stroked your stomach, already in love. The two of you had discussed what the next steps would be and how to move forward. 

All the sweetness and lovey-dovey led to the two of you giving into more sensual desires, really just enjoying each other and reestablishing the love between the two of you. 

You slipped your robe back on as you broke the heated kiss your husband had pulled you into. He groaned when you pulled away and went to get off his lap, hands kneading your hips. “Where you going sweetness” he purred as you giggled standing

”To freshen up. Since you’re home maybe we can really hunker down on what we gonna do for this baby mister” you said heading upstairs. Alastor pouted, listening to your footsteps move around. He got up and went to put up the lunch you made, he’ll take it with him when he’s out working late.

Speaking of which….he needed to spruce up a few loose ends he had been watching and would let to get those done before you needed all his attention.

He was confident in his ability to keep his sins away from your lives at home, after all he had crafted a beautiful reality here with you and he didn’t want that to be ruined by anything or anyone.

He whistled an old tune as he thought of you and a smile appeared on his face.

He was over the moon to find out you were pregnant. 

He couldn’t wait to see how motherhood treated you. 

To watch your body transform to provide for his child. How did he get so lucky to have a woman like you?

He wondered if you’ll have a boy or girl, he preferred a baby girl but he didn’t really care as long as you were happy.

After he cleaned up the kitchen he headed upstairs and Alastor swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight before him.

You were asleep on your side, one hand under your cheek and the other resting against the small baby bump, slowly stroking it. He threw a blanket over you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Satisfied that you were comfortable, he got his clothes from the other day from the closet and headed downstairs outback to wash his clothes.

It was gonna be a pain to get the stains out.

————————————————————————————

Sooooo what do you guys think?? I hate im going so slow but i need to build up some plot lol. I promise Alastor gone slip up!!

Remember to comment on pin for tag and like and comment!

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[yumecel]

Closer to God ❤️

yandere wriothesley / reader | 3k words

summary: the duke finds himself fascinated with you. to an almost unhealthy degree. scratch that, it is unhealthy. but in the underground world of vitamin D deficiencies, questionable mystery meats, and near-agoraphobia towards the overworld, does the “health” of one’s desires really matter so much?

character specifics: uhhh i think nothing but so heavily written from reader’s perspective that you may not feel his essence is fully Captured

reader specifics: female reader girl/she/wife terms

world specifics: i have no idea how fontaines legal system works and it will show. hinted matchmaker sigewinne but don’t hate her

tws: yandere, non con kissing, stalking

a/n: i could chew through fucking steel right now i am so full of lust and felt possessed to write something to this iconic song despite there being NO ACTUAL SMUT sorry.

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know this will haunt me in the world to come should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

——❤️——

You have been instructed to deliver his tea. The box feels like it’s more valuable than your entire existence, all gold-trimmed edges and swirling designs. That’s probably why it was entrusted into your hands when the usual runners are preoccupied.

Probably.

But it’s the third errand this week, and it seems so unnecessary for you personally to run it. And your sentence will be over in six weeks. And seeing the Duke now only makes your anxiety spike, lest you stumble straight into a crime you wouldn’t even know you were committing and somehow end up extending your sentence.

He’s not like that. Surely not. But you’ve been worrying.

Something in his bone-chilling gaze towards you betrays his casual demeanour. It’s the same something in the forced lingering, the excuses. The ways that he swindles you into staying in his office for an hour or two when you want to leave. Today is no different. One of the teas comes such a long way, you see, all the way from Inazuma, and you must indulge in a cup and let him know your opinion on it. Is it similar to the last one from Liyue? They have different methods of drying out the leaves. Did you drink any of it when you were in the overworld?

You always answer his questions the best you can. It’s easiest when they’re all small talk like this, and you’re not trying to play oblivious at his advances. There’s going to be a further advance soon, you can feel it.

It’s six weeks until the end of your sentence and Wriothesley’s interest in you seems foolish. With a little luck, you’ll never return to the Fortress of Meropide in your life. You did everything right, you deserve to leave, surely?

But you know that Wriothesley is no fool, and that he would not be playing these games so boldly if he was not certain to win.

——❤️——

Eleven months ago, you didn’t make much conversation with anyone in the prison. You did what you always thought you should do in a prison; kept your head down, worked hard, and didn’t associate too intimately with anyone.

Ten months ago, you had started to assume Sigewinne pitied you, or whatever the closest melusine approximation to “pity” was. Somehow designated to running errands for the infirmary, you talked to her more than any of the prisoners. Though you were grateful for her support, you kept displaying the autonomy and dignity that would let her know you were of the composition that didn’t desire company. It wouldn’t fool a melusine as observant as Sigewinne. You knew this. But you persisted, holding onto shreds of pride.

Nine months ago, Sigewinne had managed to get you to open up. You had believed at the time you were contributing to her understanding of human emotions, but now you suspect that she had motives of helping you.

“As for why I don’t really talk to anyone outside of working, well, I… I’m still processing everything. I feel like people won’t accept what I did, and get the same pushback I felt from people up there and I just… can’t relive that. People that I thought would understand didn’t, and it’s been difficult to recover trust in others.”

Sigewinne’s eyes examined you thoroughly. You maintained a perfectly still expression, under the impression that her observations of your face were for her research.

“Hmm… what if someone was guaranteed to understand you?

You took a little time to think before answering, “I think it would help. But I doubt I would personally pursue someone like that.”

“You wouldn’t?” Sigewinne queried.

“I wouldn’t. And I don’t know where I would find someone who understood.”

“Where indeed…” she whispered, more to herself than you, eyes flitting back to yours. A slight raise of the eyebrows indicated that she had come to a conclusion about something, and you weren’t sure about what. You were just happy to help, and it didn’t occur how deeply you had revealed your emotions until later.

Eight months ago, you had started running errands for Wriothesley. This followed a mixup with your records, where Sigewinne accepted blame for not filing your work hours accurately as your manager. The Duke himself had to personally review your entire record in prison to confirm that there were no inconsistencies. You were a little embarrassed by the whole thing, though Sigewinne insisted she was entirely at fault and deeply sorry. You didn’t blame her as it was an exceedingly rare mistake on her part. If anything, you were a little touched that Sigewinne cared so deeply about this. Also, the apology cake from the overworld certainly washed away any remaining feelings of irritation you held.

Eventually, you found yourself walking into the Duke’s office like Sigewinne had told you to, hands clasped in front of you. “Sigewinne sent me, Your Grace.”

“Oh, (Y/N). Thank you for coming along. I just need you to read some documents and sign them.” He said, motioning to three papers on his desk.

Hearing your name spill from his mouth so casually felt surreal. Nevertheless, you took timid steps forward and examined the documents.

“Sigewinne speaks highly of you, you know.”

Unsure how exactly to respond, you paused for a moment. “I’m glad she does, Your Grace.”

You continued examining the documents, quickly signing the first one off.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need someone trustworthy to help me hand some medical records to Sigewinne for me. Well, maybe “hand” is an understatement.”

In your peripheral vision, you catch the way he gestures towards some boxes, more than one person could reasonably move at a time.

Ink meets paper on the second document.

“Of course. I’d be more than willing to help.”

“Ah, great. Our head nurse is capable, but I’d just feel bad making her carry these on her own.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I knew you would.” The Duke says.

Silence hangs in the air. You pull the final document closer towards you to interrupt the unbearable quiet. Eventually, you make the final signature and turn around, moving towards the boxes.

The files look rather haphazardly thrown in, papers sticking out from their respective folders. That’s when the Duke approaches from behind, placing a hand gently on your shoulder. Not expecting the touch, you jump slightly, and then pretend to act like it never happened. He felt it though. He couldn’t have not felt it.

“Also, maybe you could do me another favour and help me sort these before we give them back to her?”

There is nothing else to do other than nod and say, “Of course, Your Grace.”

Eight months ago you learned that the Duke is exceptionally chatty around you. Eight months ago, your work became more divided between his office and Sigewinne’s infirmary.

Seven months ago, you had first divulged information about your crime to the Duke.

“What are you in for?” is a common enough question in the Fortress of Meropide. His Grace has never asked you it, and he wouldn’t need to either. And yet, his speech is peppered with implications about your crime that you can either refute or accept. You had dodged every hidden question artfully, and he would be very blatant about acknowledging this, saying you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to. Comforted by this, you had started trusting him.

Seven months ago, you had started trusting Wriothesley, and that had been a mistake.

Of course he already knew your crime. How could he not? A murder in self defence is quite a notable trial in the overworld regardless, and nothing in the underworld slips past Wriothesley.

You may have been a free woman if it was simpler. If the man in that alleyway had been less beloved by his community, if you had not ran away from the crime in fear, if you submitted evidence at the time, if being dragged back to Fontaine was never part of the ordeal. If it hadn’t divided the people around you over whether you should’ve really did it.

If they just understood.

You accepted the sentence nonetheless. Evading the court is a crime in itself, and in that respect you could be considered a prolific criminal.

Sat in his office, you had retold the tale.

Wriothesley understood.

——❤️——

Six months ago, you had entertained the thought of Wriothesley as a fling.

Your heart wanted emotional connection, your brain knew it would be unreasonable to pursue a long term relationship. And your pussy really just liked the idea of him pinning you down and fucking you like an animal.

Some of his little gestures towards you supported this notion. A hand on the small of your back, maybe going a little low, the warmth of his presence behind you. The leering that’d stop when you picked your head up, but you still caught in reflections and out of the corner of your eye. The occasional innuendos. Wriothesley is fairly down-to-earth all the time, but with you, some more primal desires seep through.

But sometimes, it was different. The way he’d sweep hair away from your face. The possessiveness around you when other prisoners- now seemingly assuming you were a member of staff rather than an actual prisoner- talked to you. Always played off as professionalism. And the endless desire to know exactly what you were up to, inside and out.

Noting this, you were a little less reciprocative of his hints, afraid of feelings being hurt. He seemed to accept it. You were friends now. You knew about his crimes, which he had confided to you in private. He knew everything there was to know about yours. You would come to chat over tea. You continued working with Sigewinne, but saw her less. Wriothesley dominated most of your waking moments.

But the possessiveness didn’t stop, and the curiosity was starting to become intrusive.

——❤️——

Four months ago, you had learned that Wriothesley personally went through all of your mail.

All mail of yours was immediately forwarded to his office, where it would be opened and sent back to the mailroom. You had only found this out when you wandered into the mailroom and inquired about the mail, expecting a monthly letter from your family that was a little late.

“Oh, I take it she’s one of your patients? All of that mail gets forwarded to the Duke first. Guess there was a contraband incident or something. Anyway, don’t have it.”

It was information the attendant would have never divulged to you if he realised who you were. You blended in so well as a member of staff that people had started to see you as a nursing attendant before anything else. The clothes you now wore that treaded the line between prisoner and staff member were another layer of this disguise, courtesy of Wriothesley. Now, it was working against him.

Despite how perturbed you were, you managed a, “Oh, thank you for telling me.”, and immediately darted towards Wriothesley’s office, knocking with a shaking hand before you heard him telling you to come in.

“How nice it is to see you on your day off. Take it you missed me?” He said, closing his book and getting up to get another cup. It’s like a routine to him, and one he’s very comfortable doing.

“Well, I do have a reason to be here.”

“Cold. Well, let me pour you a cup, and you can tell me all about it. It’s Chenyu adeptea today.”

After getting seated and engaging in a few pleasantries with him, you pose your question, about if what you heard in the mailroom was really true.

He doesn’t deny it.

With a piercing gaze that doesn’t deviate from yours, he says, “Hm. I didn’t want to worry you at the time, but dangerous contraband came through in a parcel addressed to you a couple months back, and I’ve been going through it ever since.”

A reasonable explanation, you suppose. But why keep it from you this long? Surely he must understand this is a betrayal of your trust?

You remain quiet, still trying to process everything.

“My apologies if your feelings are hurt, but I acted in your best interests. I promise that.”

Your fingers glide along the edge of the teacup. “That’s alright. I shouldn’t have doubted your reasoning.”

You finish the cup of tea over lighter conversation, until just before leaving, you pose one last question.

“Ah, uh, you don’t go through my outgoing mail too, right?”

Wriothesley chuckles dryly with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s no reason to do that, is there?”

You’ve known him too long, been confined in his presence with nothing else to do but observe. His perceptiveness is second to none, but you’ve trained yourself. Dodging the question is suspicious. As you close the door to his office, there is no doubt in your mind that he reads every letter you send.

It didn’t surprise you that the mail attendant you first spoke to seemed to no longer work in the mailroom when you next approached it.

——❤️——

It was difficult to remain amicable after that, but you tried your best. Treading a thin line between not upsetting him (not that he’d ever show it) and not allowing him to encroach further on your personal life, you may as well have been walking on the edge of a knife.

The advances started again. He’s more demanding of your time. Sigewinne simply lets you off work to do whatever he demands. She seems to believe there’s something amusing in all of this, and you don’t dare confide in her about your discomfort around the Duke. You don’t think she’d be playing on your side.

Two months ago, he started getting far too touchy. He wants to be next to you, he finds any excuse to put a hand on you, rub your back, your shoulder, the top of your hand- all gestures of comfort that come across more like domination and marking territory. You don’t feel like you can tell him to stop. He has too much power, and you don’t wish to interfere with it. The reality of who he is seems more imposing than ever, and you steel yourself, trying to remain as professional and inoffensive as possible.

The clock ticks down. Less and less days to the end of your sentence.

——❤️——

Two weeks now remain of your time in the Fortress of Meropide.

“I think you might owe me something for that.” Wriothesley says.

You stare down at the cards scattered across the table, remnants of a finished game that Wriothesley had won. He looks slightly smug about it. It’s only been a few rounds, too. He’s often happy to play many more.

“Like what?”

“Something I’ve always wanted.”

You look up at him, seeing his hand beckon you closer. You get up slowly, carefully stepping around the table. He pats the sofa beside him and the world around you starts to feel dreamlike as you sit down.

His hand touches just under your chin, thumb stroking your jaw, before reaching up steadily to your lips. You know what comes next, and shut your eyes as his lips eventually meet yours. Obediently, you kiss back until he pulls away. When your eyes meet, you immediately look down, observing how his hand was now on your thigh, touching lightly.

You gasp as he squeezes, feeling his gaze remain on you. “I… I’m not sure if we should be doing this. I’m l-leaving soon, and I don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt.”

“Leaving to where?”

Your blood runs a little cold then, but you steady yourself. “The overworld.”

“You don’t have to.”

Making an earnest attempt to get him to sympathise with you, to understand like he always has, you place your own hand on top of his. “I think I do. I’ve served my sentence with the intention of getting out of this place. I need to go back up. Reintegrate before I forget how.”

Wriothesley doesn’t understand.

When you look up, he’s now looking right through you, into space, into nothingness. “I guess you’re not going to make this easy.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” You say, roughly swallowing. Against your will, you do understand. You always do.

“We’re made for each other. Circumstance is a powerful thing, (Y/N). If it wasn’t for circumstance, you wouldn’t be in jail. You wouldn’t be like me. I wouldn’t be here either. Two people, who can perfectly understand each other, in the same place. But I suppose you don’t think that’s something worth pursuing?”

“I can’t be here forever.” You reply definitively.

“Don’t exaggerate things, now. I do go up to Fontaine every now and then, you know.”

“You know what I mean.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“I guess I can have your sentence extended. I didn’t want to play that card, but…”

“I- I’ll report you to any authority that will listen!” You exclaim, retracting away from him in horror.

“And it’ll be your word against mine. Wonder how that would work out.” He states, as if he was simply pondering the results of the card game.

Tears have started falling from your eyes. A wave of nausea rolls over your entire body as a thumb gently swipes over your cheeks. You’re utterly stunned and lost for words, slowly collapsing into yourself. Wriothesley takes the opportunity to inch closer and wrap his arms around you, letting you freely sob into his shoulder. There is nothing else to do. His arms are like a prison, and his hot breath is tickling against your ear.

“You’ll understand in time. For now, let’s calm down and maybe we can start preparing for your permanent residence, huh?”

As another sob emerges, his hand rubs your back with overwhelming tenderness.

[cvt2dvm]

Primal Chic: The Princess Saves Herself & The Planet in this It Girl meets Survivalist Lifestyle

If you think it girl, you may think of high maintenance, high consumption, pampered, luxe living. I want you to take a step back from that idea with me and introduce a new mindset, Primal Chic. Borrowing from the Clean Girl, GORP Girl, It Girl, Stoic, Survivalist, and Prepper, Primal Chic is all about minimizing your impact on the planet, maximizing your self-sufficiency, and building meaningful sisterhood.

Primal Chic in 3 Words is: Sustainability, Self-Sufficiency, & Sisterhood.

Body: Fuel, Movement, & Beauty

Fuel: Our bodies and minds need high-quality fuel, and that's offered by a whole-food, paleo diet. Many of the foods on the market are heavily processed and loaded with low-quality fillers that drive calories and macros up without meeting our micronutrient needs. On top of this, a huge segment of the market is imported from outside of our local communities, adding heavily to the carbon footprint of our foods. Choosing locally grown, non-GMO, organic produce and proteins from fair trade, regenerative, or woman-owned agri-businesses is a fantastic stepping stone if you can't generate your own food due to time, space, or monetary constraints. I love shopping locally owned health food stores, farmers markets, and farm stands. The price of organics also goes down if you shop store-brand organics. There are also Facebook groups and Pinterest boards dedicated to Paleo recipe swaps. You also want to make sure you're honoring your body's needs in all of it's areas, rest, relaxation, movement, and nutrition.

Movement: Functional, outdoor movement benefits body, mind, and soul. A good hike, a lake swim, or even just a good jog with your pets are all great ways to get your cardio in. Outdoor yoga, rucks, rock climbing, and calisthenics are low-cost, high-reward strength and conditioning exercises that help you to keep toned and ready for action in your day-to-day life. Don't forget ROM either, active recovery walks, daily yoga, and deep stretches ensure you remain flexible and reduce pain from tight, stiff muscles and joints. Adding in a few friends allows you to build sisterhood and meet your social needs too, and being outdoors helps with the chronic vitamin D deficiencies most modern women face.

Beauty: Choosing clean, sustainable beauty and reducing the number of products used is good for your body due to fewer toxins, your mind with lower body and facial dysmorphia from high glam makeup looks, and the planet with less harsh manufacturing processes. Consider switching to multi-use products, reducing the number of products in your skincare & makeup routines, and swapping to washable/reusable body, skin, and feminine hygiene products to care for yourself and our planet. I'll be going into more detail on the swaps I made personally in a blog post next week.

Side Note: Planning a girl's weekend yoga retreat or having a buddy to do the Whole30 (a great intro to Paleo eating) with you is a great way to build up your sisterhoods and your own resolve for this new lifestyle.

Mind: Clarity, Wisdom, and Continuous Growth

Stoicism: The serenity prayer is a fantastic example of the basis of stoicism, letting go of the things you can't control or change, courageously sticking to your values and virtues and changing or controlling the things you can, living in harmony with nature, practice emotional mindfulness and emotional chastity, and practice resilience, learning to bounce back from failures and misfortune. With all things in life there is a learning curve, and allowing yourself to be ruled by algorithms, propaganda, and impulses reduces your own personal power.

Minimalism: Cut out overconsumption to help save the planet, save your wallet, and save your space. Choosing quality, durable, practical, and multi-purpose items allows you to spend less time organizing and cleaning and more time with friends and family, and doing the things that truly feed your soul. You don't have to have a spartan, sterile, white living space to embrace minimalism either, you can still inject your own personal style and personality into your choices, but be more mindful about where and how you're spending your hard-earned money.

Dedication to Continuous Growth: Instead of doom-scrolling or watching brain-rotting television, try switching out social media for micro-learning, soaps for documentaries, and limiting screen time to 1-3 hours per day. Try switching out happy hour for a self-defense or first aid class. Get involved with book swaps and information databases or group PDF sharing.

Heart: Love Thyself, Love Thy Neighbor, Love Thy Planet

Self-Love: Forming a sisterhood and meaningful community starts with loving yourself. You can't draw from an empty well, so being honest and vulnerable with yourself and taking care of yourself is the first step in being able to be there for others at your most authentic. Reminding yourself of your inherent value is important.

Earth: The frequencies of the earth are often interfered with by our man-made surroundings, taking time to ground yourself and connect with the world around you, either on your own, or in a group, is good for the heart. Try and take an hour or two per day and spend it outdoors, really soaking in the beauty you may have been numbed to by having it become mundane.

Connection & Community: Not everyone you meet deserves your whole heart and mind, however, they do deserve basic human dignity and respect, for those closer to you, they do deserve having a reliable friend who they can turn to in times of need and times of victory. Forming meaningful connections across generational divides makes us stronger as women and enriches our lives.

Soul: Mindfulness, Purpose, & Resilience

Mindfulness: Meditation, nature walks, situational awareness, and group activities keep the mind and soul well-fed and the senses sharp should the need arise for defense. Live in the moment as much as you can, rather than drift aimlessly through life without a plan of attack. Spontaneity can still exist here, as you should have a balance of routine and flexibility.

Purpose: What drives you? Who drives you? What values are at your core? Answering these questions allows you to live a purposeful life where you are true to yourself and your community. If your values don't align with the life you're living what changes do you need to have them align?

Resilience: You don't have to make your life harder, but preparing for life's rough times through mental, spiritual, physical, financial and material preparedness is still important. Building a solid community will help with this, but ensuring you yourself have the tools and skills necessary for survival will help even more so.

Planet: Stewardship, Sustainability, and Conscious Consumption

Stewardship: Bring a bag with you on walks and hikes to collect trash and follow the old Girl Scout principle of leaving things better than you found them. Encourage sustainable practices with where you shop and invest your time and resources, and take advantage of your local parks and wild spaces.

Sustainability: Opt for natural materials in clothing, decor, & home goods. Choose materials like wood, cotton, real fur, leather, and linen rather than plastics and petroleum-derived products or "natural" materials with harsh production processes like viscose or bamboo fiber. Reduce your consumption of new products, and shop thrift or vintage where you can, and go as ecologically friendly and durable as you can afford when buying new.

Conscious Consumption: Shop local, woman-owned, small business, and fair trade products wherever you can, skip out on mega polluters like Amazon or Shien, and avoid sweatshop and slave labor wherever you can. Before making purchases, ask yourself if you truly need an item or if you're just looking for a quick dopamine hit. Mend your things if possible rather than trashing them, and opt for donation of things in good condition that no longer fit with who you are.

All in all, the Primal Chic lifestyle is attainable for everyone, and about making conscious, cognizant steps toward a more meaningful, impactful, and mindful life where you live sustainably, & self sufficiently while building meaningful community and sisterhood.

[crabussy]

he’s over 1000 years old. he’s a little old lady. he’s an anxious cheetah who’s missing it’s therapy dog. he’s addicted to a funny gold hat and it’s giving him so many mental illnesses. he’s bisexual. he needs an ibuprofen or five. he has a vitamin C deficiency. they have pronouns. he has one friend who is equally bad at confronting emotions but way better at not almost dying. if you blew lightly on him you’d knock him over. he is often seen covered in blood and lying stunned on the ground. his ass has been shown on screen multiple times. he is a total loser. there’s girls in his mind. he’s the size of a dust mote. he’s like if a cat could have human mental disorders. you know who it is