#because of. paperwork mazes.

[gottagobuycheese]

well okay fine the first few months of this year MIGHT be shaping up to be uniquely hellish in a way I have never had the ability to experience before, but, once they’re done, regardless of how they actually go, I can look forward to utterly losing myself in breath of the wild 2 because as long as I am alive I can look forward to that. so it’s whatever it’s fine come at me emails I’m not afraid of you

[badathumanemotions]

Hey could you do a Spencer NSFW fic where you end up trapped in a confined space with him (maybe hiding from an unsub) and all your personal space is gone and stuff gets heated yk and then maybe it’s carried on later in a hotel room that they had to share (dom spence, degradation, size kink etc) whatever you want to do really 🫶🫶

Hidden Feelings

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI MasterList Category: Smut CW: Smut, Oral Sex (fem), Praise, Dirty Talk, Use of Good Girl and Sweet Girl, Riding, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Aftercare, Love Confessions. WC: 7,194 My brains been foggy lately so it's taking me longer to write these. Sorry guys. Also because of the long breaks I totally forgot to add everything you asked for and my Dom Spencer's a little rusty. Sorry anon. m (Not Proof Read)

In the heart of a long-forgotten industrial district, the abandoned restaurant stood, a relic of a bygone era. The team had received an anonymous tip, a whisper on the wind that led them to this desolate corner. You and Spencer Reid drew the short straws, tasked with investigating the eerie structure.

Peeling paint and shattered windows cast a grim pallor over the faded sign that swung lazily in the breeze. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you approached, your footsteps echoing against the cracked pavement. Spencer, ever the intellectual, rattled off facts about the place's history, trying to fill the silence with something other than the heavy tension that hung in the air.

Inside, the restaurant was a maze of dust-covered tables and chairs, the smell of stale grease clinging stubbornly to the air. The kitchen was a jungle of rusty pans and forgotten spices, the floor sticky with a layer of grime that had built up over the years. Despite the emptiness, it felt as though you were intruding on a place where secrets had been left to fester in the dark.

The tip you received was vague, hinting at suspicious activity in the area. You and Spencer moved methodically, your eyes scanning every corner for the faintest trace of anything could help with the case. You weren't quite sure what you were looking for – a clue, a sign, anything to justify the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach. Spencer paused every so often, his sharp mind analyzing anything out of place.

It was in the kitchen that you stumbled upon the horror. The ticket holder, once used to organize orders, now held a different kind of queue – a series of surveillance photos of the victims. Each face hauntingly familiar from the case files you've studied. The sight of their images, captured unknowingly by the monsters you were hunting, sent a cold chill through your system. Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, his voice barely above a whisper as he pointed out the meticulously laid out schedules scattered around the kitchen counters. It was clear that these Unsubs had been stalking their prey, plotting their every move.

The two of you withdrew your weapons now on high alert. You continued clearing the place, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the lives at stake. You could feel Spencer's tension beside you, his breaths shallow and eyes darting around the room as he searched for any sign of the trio.

Approaching a back office, you pushed the door open with your foot, not taking any chances. The room was a time capsule of forgotten paperwork and dusty filing cabinets. A desk sat in the centre, with a table beside it covered by a faded tablecloth.

The papers scattered across the surface looked like they had been abandoned in a hurry. Invoices, receipts, and pay stubs lay in a disorganized heap. You squinted in the dim light, trying to make sense of the dates. They were from before the restaurant had closed, a mundane record of a business that no longer existed.

Then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed through the empty dining area. You and Spencer froze, your eyes locking for a split second. The blood drained from your face as you both realized the gravity of the situation. The Unsubs had returned and you were out numbered.

You caught a glimpse of four men, their silhouettes looming through the dust. At least two were obviously armed, their weapons glinting in the sliver of light that pierced the dimly lit space. They were getting closer and you had to think fast.

With a burst of adrenaline, you grabbed Spencer by the arm and pushed him down onto the floor, under the protection of the dusty tablecloth. He tumbled backward, his eyes wide with surprise, and you quickly followed, landing on top of him in a desperate attempt to hide. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the fabric of the cloth billowed around you, threatening to give you away with every breath.

With quick hands, you pulled out your phone and silently typed a message to Hotch, your thumb hovering over the 'Send' button. The footsteps grew louder, each step bringing the danger closer. You hit 'Send' and shoved the phone into your pocket. You could feel Spencer's body tense beneath yours, his muscles coiled like a spring, clearly thrown off by you sitting on top of him.

He begins to squirm, and you knew he was uncomfortable, not just from the fear of being discovered but also from your proximity. The cramped space made it impossible not to be aware of every inch of your bodies pressing together.

Spencer tries to sit up, but you're quick to react. You place a hand firmly on his chest and push him back down, shaking your head.

Suddenly, he whispered, his voice strained and urgent, "We should change positions, it's not…ideal." But before he could finish, you clamped your hand over his mouth. You didn't know if the Unsubs had heard you, but you couldn't take that risk.

"Quiet, we don't want them to hear us."

You felt Spencer's body stiffen even further as your breath danced against the sensitive skin of his neck. You could feel his pulse racing against your chest, a frantic drumbeat matching the tempo of your own heart. You shifted slightly, the movement pressing your ass against his growing arousal. His breath hitched beneath your palm. It was an accident, but one that sent a jolt of heat through you.

The voices grew louder, the Unsubs seemingly oblivious to the danger hiding in the shadows. They talked in hushed tones, their words muffled by walls between them and your hiding spot. You strained to listen, hoping for some clue as to their plans or identities. The words were indecipherable, but the tone was one of excitement and anticipation.

As the moments dragged on, the tension in the air thickened, coiling around you and Spencer like a serpent. His body was taut beneath yours, the fabric of your clothes the only barrier between you. The adrenaline had shifted gears, no longer just a fight-or-flight response but a potent cocktail of fear and desire.

You felt his hands grip the back of your thighs, knuckles almost white with restraint. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and the friction of your movements was setting something alight between you. It was a dangerous dance, one that had no place in the middle of a horror show, but your body didn't seem to care about the setting.

Spencer's eyes searched yours, looking for a sign, a silent question. Was this real or just the situation playing tricks on you both? But the desire was unmistakable, a palpable force that seemed to fill the air in the tiny space. You drop your head down, your nose brushing against his cheek, and for a heart-stopping second, you thought about what it would be like to kiss him right then and there.

The sound of the Unsubs grew closer, their footsteps echoing in the hall outside the office door. Spencer's hands slid from your thighs to your hips, his grip tightening. The heat of his touch seemed to burn through your clothes, setting every nerve ending alight. The fear was still there, a live wire running through your veins, but it had morphed into something more primal, something that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat.

You met Spencer's gaze, and in that fraction of a second, everything changed. The hunger you saw in his eyes was raw and undeniable. It was a look you'd never seen from him before, one that made your heart skip a beat and your body respond in ways you hadn't anticipated. For a moment, the horror of the situation was forgotten, replaced by the all-consuming need to touch, to taste, to claim.

Your hand slowly slid from his mouth to cup his jaw, feeling the stubble that had formed over the past few days of non-stop work. His breath was hot against your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on either of you, but in the face of the danger lurking outside, it seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

Spencer's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. The sound of the Unsubs' footsteps grew fainter as they moved away from the office, but the intensity between you only grew stronger. His hands slid up your back, tangling in your hair, and you both leaned in, lips almost touching.

Suddenly, salvation in the form of a vibration. Your phone. The team had gotten your message. You felt a rush of hope as you realized that rescue was on the way. The vibration against your leg was a silent shout of reassurance, a beacon in the dark.

You both knew that you had to keep it together, to keep the facade of professionalism until the danger had passed. The text message seemed to sober you both up, the urgency of the situation slapping you back into the stark reality of your predicament.

You glanced down at the screen, noting the time since you'd sent the SOS. It felt like hours, but it had only been minutes. The message was simple: "In position. Hold tight." Spencer's eyes met yours, understanding passing between you in a fraction of a second. The weight on your chest lifted slightly, the fear ebbing away just enough to allow you to breathe again.

The sound of the Unsubs grew fainter as they moved away from the office. You dared not speak, not even a whisper, as you both listened intently for any clue to their whereabouts. Spencer's hand slid from your hair to the small of your back, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your spine. You shivered at his touch, the line between terror and passion blurring further.

Suddenly, the air was pierced by the sound of shattering glass. The Unsubs had been spooked, and the cavalry had arrived. The SWAT team, alerted by your message, had come crashing through the restaurant's front windows, the shards raining down like a crystal waterfall in the dusty room. You could feel Spencer's body tense beneath you, his muscles coiled and ready to spring into action.

You both took this as your cue to come out of hiding. With a silent nod of understanding, you slithered out from under the tablecloth, drawing your weapon as you went. Spencer was right behind you, his eyes sharp and focused, scanning the room for any sign of the quartet. The office door was slightly ajar, and the sound of chaos outside grew louder with each passing second.

As you emerged into the corridor, the scene that met you was one of organized mayhem. The SWAT team was spread out through the restaurant, their movements precise and calculated as they secured the area. You saw Morgan taking down one of the Unsubs with a well-placed tackle, the man's body hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

The other three Unsubs were already in cuffs, their faces a mix of shock and rage as they were read their rights. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized that it was over, that no one else would suffer because of them.

He approached you and Spencer, his gaze sweeping over the two of you with a practiced eye. "Are you both okay?" he asked, his voice low and steady. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath, and Spencer managed a tight smile.

Morgan's eyes lingered on the two of you, and for a moment, you wondered if he could see the unspoken tension that had arisen between you during the standoff. But he said nothing, only nodded and turned back to the rest of the team.

The wrap-up was a blur, a flurry of activity that seemed to happen in fast-forward. You watched as the Unsubs were led out of the building, their heads bowed in defeat. The SWAT team secured the perimeter, and the forensic unit began their meticulous dance of collecting evidence. Your heart was still racing, the adrenaline from earlier lingering.

Before you knew it, you were in the back of an SUV, the cool leather pressing against your heated skin. Spencer was sitting beside you, the two of you trading glances. The silence between you was deafening, charged with the electricity of the kiss you had almost shared.

You couldn't help but wonder if it was the adrenaline that had pushed you both over the edge, or if there had always been something more simmering beneath the surface. The team was busy around you, talking and filling in the gaps of what had just transpired. But all you could think about was the way Spencer's body had felt beneath yours, the way his hands had explored you in the dark.

Once back at the precinct, you were just going through the motions. While the majority of the team interrogated the Unsubs, you found yourself cataloguing evidence with a sense of detachment, your mind replaying the events in the abandoned restaurant.

The almost kiss kept playing in your mind like a record on repeat. You couldn't shake the feeling of Spencer's breath against your skin, the way his eyes had searched yours for something unspoken. Each time you reached for a new piece of evidence, your hand would tremble slightly, a reminder of the intimate moment you had shared.

The touch of his fingers on your spine had been electric, sending a shiver down to the very core of you. You found yourself acutely aware of every point of contact, every brush of skin on skin, feeling as if you were still entwined under that dusty tablecloth. The memory of his arms around you was a comforting embrace that seemed to linger.

You froze for a moment as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks: you were sharing a room with Spencer tonight. The implications of what had almost happened weighed heavily on your mind as you continued to process the adrenaline-filled afternoon. You'd been partners for so long, so close, yet this was uncharted territory. You couldn't help but wonder how this would affect your relationship, both personally and professionally.

The case was wrapped up. Everything else was left for the locals. You and the team had done your part, leaving the cleanup to the local law enforcement. The Unsubs were behind bars, and the victims could now find some semblance of peace.

As you and the team divided into cars, you found yourself paired with Morgan and Prentiss. Spencer ended up in the car with Hotch, Rossi, and JJ, his eyes meeting yours briefly before the doors slammed shut, leaving you to wonder what might happen next. The drive to the hotel was a blur of city lights and the muffled chatter of your colleagues. You were lost in thought, replaying every heart-pounding moment in the abandoned restaurant.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, the lobby was a bustle of activity. The team checked in with weary efficiency, the gravity of the case still weighing on everyone's shoulders. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as Spencer's gaze didn't seek you out among the crowd. Perhaps it was better this way, you thought, a chance to cool off and sort out the tumultuous emotions that had taken hold of you.

You headed up to the room, the elevator's slow ascent feeling like an eternity. You were sure that the conversation that was bound to happen would be a letdown. It had to be the adrenaline, you reasoned with yourself. It was the only explanation for the way your body had responded to his touch. But as the doors opened and you stepped into the quiet corridor, the memory of his arms around you seemed to follow you.

You fished the room key out of your pocket and slipped it into the lock, turning the handle with a click. The door swung open, revealing a space that felt too small for the emotions you were carrying.

Standing in the middle of the room, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before Spencer joined you in your shared hotel room. The walls felt closer than they should, the air filled with the anticipation of an unspoken conversation that loomed. You studied your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out any signs of distress, hoping to maintain a facade of calm.

As the lock clicked open, the sound echoed through the room. Your entire body tensed, not ready for what the night might hold. Spencer stepped in, his eyes briefly scanning the room before they settled on you.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the silence stretching out between you. His face was a mask, revealing nothing. You searched his gaze, desperate to find some clue, some hint of what was going through his mind. But Spencer was a master of poker faces, and he wasn't giving you anything to work with.

Then, without any warning, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hands coming up to cup your face. His touch was surprisingly firm, yet gentle, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was as intense as it was unexpected, stealing the breath from your lungs. You felt your knees wobble as you kissed him back with an equal fervour.

You gripped onto Spencer's shoulders, your nails digging into his shirt as you tried to keep yourself tethered to reality. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his hands splayed against the small of your back.

He broke the kiss abruptly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "Tell me you want this" he growled.

"Yes," you assured him, the word coming out as a breathless whisper. "I want you," you clarified.

With frantic movements, you both began to undress each other, the fabric of your clothes seeming to dissolve away in your haste. Buttons popped and zippers hissed as the barriers between you fell away. You could feel the heat from his skin as your shirts were discarded.

Spencer reached around and unclipped your bra with an ease that made your stomach flip. He took his sweet time peeling the fabric away, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He didn't waste a second before his mouth found them, his lips closing around your nipple with a gentle suction that sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You gasped, your back arching, pushing your chest closer to his face.

With a groan, he began to suck, his tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive bud as you tangled your fingers in his hair. His hands followed suit, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the peaks as he played with your nipples. He switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Each nip and suck sent electricity through your body, making your legs threaten to give out.

Once he had his fill, he moved on to your trousers, taking them and your underwear down with a gentle urgency. You stepped out of the fabric pooled around your ankles, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He knelt before you, marvelling at the sight before him, his eyes dark with desire. You felt a blush spread across your cheeks as he looked up, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul. "All mine to taste." He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his eyes travelled down your body.

With a gentle but firm tug, Spencer's hands slid down to the back of your thighs, urging you closer. You stepped into the embrace, feeling his warm breath against your sex. The sensation sent a shiver through your body, and you bit your lip to hold back a whimper of need. His fingers dug into the flesh, gripping tightly as if he needed the anchor.

He leaned in, his tongue tracing the seam of your pussy. You felt his hot breath against your clit, the anticipation making it throb with desire. He circled the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, the touch so light it was almost maddening.

You moaned, your hands finding their way into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to apply more pressure. Spencer's eyes never left yours as he started to devour you, his mouth working magic on your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were grinding against his face, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly at your eagerness, his hands moving to grip your ass, pulling you closer until you were practically riding his face. His tongue plunged into your wetness, tasting you deeply, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that had you teetering on the edge.

"That's right, sweetheart," Spencer murmured, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Cum for me. Let me feel you come apart." His words were a command, a demand that sent a thrill through your body. You could feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten, your orgasm building in your core.

Obeying his urging, you began to rock your hips, grinding your clit against his tongue. The pressure was exquisite, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. His eyes remained locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with desire, his mouth wide open collecting your juices. His hands tightened on your ass, his fingers digging in, urging you to move faster, to give him what he wanted.

And then, with a final, needy grind against his mouth, you shattered. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you leaving you trembling and gasping for air. You could see the triumph flash in his eyes as he felt you come apart. He didn't stop, though, continuing to lick and suck until your legs gave out needing him to catch you.

With a firm grip on your waist, he guided you to the bed, his movements sure and decisive. The mattress dipped as you sat down, and he didn't waste a second before he was beside you, his body pressing into yours, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was as possessive as it was hungry.

"Good girl," he murmured against your lips, the words a dark praise that sent a thrill through your body. He pushed you back onto the bed, his body following yours, his weight a delicious pressure that made your heart race even faster. You felt the heat of him, his arousal pressing against your thigh, and it was all you could do to keep from reaching down and taking him in your hand.

Spencer sat up, his eyes never leaving yours as he removed the rest of his clothes. Each article of clothing fell away, revealing more of the toned body you had only ever seen glimpses of. His chest was bare, a blush trailing down it, and his erection was clear through his boxer briefs. He watched your reaction, a smug satisfaction in his gaze as he revealed himself to you.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he pushed the last of his clothes off. "How hard it was to keep my hands to myself while we were hiding." His hand slid down his body, gripping his cock, giving it a slow stroke that had you biting your lip.

The admission sent a bolt of desire through you, making your heart race even faster. You had known there was something between you, something that went beyond friendship and partnership, but to hear him voice it so bluntly was exhilarating.

Spencer climbed over you, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered in your ear, "While you were on top of me, I couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have you riding me like that, taking me deep inside you." His words were raw, unfiltered, and they sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of his arousal, his cock pressing into your thigh as he spoke.

He trailed kisses down your neck, each one a silent promise of what was to come. "I wanted to rip your clothes off right there," he confessed, his voice a low growl that resonated through your body. "To feel you wet and ready for me, to hear you scream my name as I made you cum."

The words alone were almost enough to push you over the edge again. Your pussy throbbed with need, your inner walls clenching around emptiness, desperate for his touch. A moan slipped past your lips, and you threw your head back, giving him full access to your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, and you felt a shiver of pleasure that went straight to your core.

"Please," you begged, the word a breathy whisper that seemed to hang in the air. "I need you inside me." Your voice was ragged with desire, your eyes never leaving his as you made your plea. The raw need in your eyes seemed to be all the permission Spencer needed.

With a final, lingering kiss, he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. "Don't worry, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice low and dominant. "I'll take care of you."

He slammed into you with a force that made you gasp. The feeling of being filled by him was almost painful in its intensity, but the pain quickly gave way to pleasure as your body adjusted to his size.

Spencer's eyes were hooded with desire as he watched your reaction, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm. His hands gripped the headboard, the wood creaking under his grip as he thrust deeper and deeper, his whole body taut with the effort.

You could feel the mattress shift with every pounding stroke, the springs groaning in protest beneath you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had you panting and writhing beneath him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him deeper.

Spencer took your cue, his hands moving from the headboard to your hips, his grip unyielding as he set a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hips snapped against you, his cock filling you completely, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll back in your head. He was a force of nature, a storm of passion that you had unleashed, and you were helpless to do anything but ride the waves of pleasure that he brought.

You could feel the headboard knocking against the wall with every thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. Each time he pushed into you, your breath hitched, a whimper escaping your lips. His eyes watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face, his expression one of fierce concentration.

"Look at me," Spencer demanded. You obeyed, locking your gaze onto his, unable to look away as he claimed you, body and soul. His dominance was intoxicating, the way he took control of your pleasure, leaving you powerless to do anything but submit to his will.

With a slight adjustment of his hips, he angled himself just right, and you felt the electric sensation as his cock hit your g-spot. A shocked yelp escaped your lips, your eyes widening with surprise. The intensity was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

The sound of your moans grew louder with every thrust, filling the small room. Spencer smirked, his eyes dark with arousal as he leaned in close, his hand coming up to cover your mouth. "Quiet," he whispered, his voice a seductive rumble in your ear. "We don't want them to hear us, do we?" It was a playful reminder of your earlier words.

You moaned against his hand, the muffled sound only serving to add to the intensity of the moment. The heat from his palm was like a brand on your skin, searing your lips as you fought to keep your noises contained.

As the pleasure mounted, he slowly switched to putting his thumb in your mouth while the rest of his hand cupped your cheek. The act was both innocent and incredibly erotic, a silent plea for more as your teeth grazed his skin, your tongue swirling around the digit.

The sound of his groan filled the room, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very air. It sent a bolt of electricity through your body, making your pussy clench around his cock. Spencer's eyes darkened with need, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, his hips moving faster, his strokes more urgent.

"So fucking tight," he murmured, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?" His words went straight to your pussy, your body responding instinctively to his words. You nodded, unable to form coherent sentences as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

"Tell me," he demanded, his hips grinding into you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. "Tell me how good it feels." You moaned around his thumb, the sound muffled and wanton.

"Am I fucking you so good you can't answer?" he taunted, his voice low and full of smug satisfaction.

You could only nod, the words caught in your throat as he hit that spot again and again. The feeling was so intense that you could feel yourself climbing towards another orgasm.

With a sudden shift, Spencer rolled over, flipping onto his, and you straddled him, his cock still buried deep inside you. "Fuck, I need to see you ride me," he grunted.

Wasting no time, you immediately got to work, arching your lower back and slamming your ass down against his pelvis. The pleasure had your eyes rolling back in your head. Each downward thrust was met with an upward surge of his hips, filling you completely.

Spencer's fingers dug into your hips, his grip tightening with each bounce, leaving the promise of bruises in his wake. You could feel the pressure building again, his cock stroking your g-spot with an almost punishing precision that had your toes curling.

"That's right, be a good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Ride my cock just like that." The words were a command that had your pussy clenching around him, desperate to please. You picked up the pace, the slap of your ass meeting his thighs growing louder with each passing second.

Spencer's eyes never left yours, his gaze a mix of hunger and admiration. "Look how much you want it," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "Look how much you need me to fill you up, to make you scream." His words were like a drug, sending a rush of pleasure through your body.

"You like me praising you," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to where you were joined. "Calling you a good girl?" His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin gently as his hips began to move again, his cock still buried deep inside you. "I felt the way your cunt started squeezing me," he continued, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. "Every time I say it, you get wetter, don't you?"

You couldn't help but nod, the truth of his words evident in the way your body was responding. You felt the heat of his palm on your cheek, the gentle pressure of his thumb against your skin grounding you.

With a growl of pure need, Spencer brought your face down to meet his in a passionate kiss that was both possessive and tender. His tongue claimed your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. You moaned into the kiss, the sensation of his cock inside you making your head spin.

Both his hands grabbed your ass, the firm grip of his fingers digging into your flesh. He used the leverage to slam your hips down onto him, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. You could feel the muscles in his arms tensing, the power behind each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself tightening around him, the beginnings of another orgasm building deep within you.

Spencer's voice was a low growl in your ear, his words a mix of praise and need. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "I want to fill you up, have you dripping with my seed." The thought of his release inside you had your pussy clenching around him, the walls quivering with the anticipation of his climax.

"Will you let me, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. The question was loaded, filled with a mix of hope and desire that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, waiting for your permission.

You nodded, the word "yes" barely escaping your mouth before it was swallowed by his kiss. Spencer's hips bucked up into you, the urgency of his movements increasing. He broke the kiss, panting. "I need to feel you come around me," he groaned.

The frantic pace continued, your bodies moving in perfect synchronicity as you raced towards the peak of pleasure. Spencer's grip on your ass was bruising, but you didn't care. You needed this, needed him to make you feel alive in a way you never had before. His cock slammed into your g-spot over and over, causing non-stop pleasure.

Your kiss grew sloppier, tongues tangling and breaths mingling as if you were trying to breathe each other in. The taste of him was intoxicating. You felt the pressure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to break at any moment.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," Spencer begged, his voice strained with his own need. And as if those words were the key to your release, your body obeyed. You felt the orgasm crash over you, a tidal wave of sensation that had you throwing your head back and screaming his name. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body spasming on top of him, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice.

The sight of you, lost in the throes of ecstasy, was too much for Spencer. With a roar, he reached his own climax, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his cum. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and relief that had him seeing stars. His hips jerked upwards, his body shuddering with the force of his release, his hands gripping you tightly.

You moaned at the feeling of him cumming in you, the sensation of being filled sending you spiralling over the edge into another orgasm. Your pussy clenched around him, milking every last drop from his cock as he emptied himself inside you. The feeling was primal, a deep-seated satisfaction that resonated through every part of your being.

As the last tremors of pleasure passed, you collapsed boneless against him, both of you trying to catch your breath. Your cheek was pressed against his chest, his heart pounding against your skin. You could feel the stickiness of your juices between your legs, mingling with his seed.

Spencer's hand came up to draw patterns across your spine, the touch gentle and soothing. His fingertips traced the contours of your back, moving in a lazy pattern. You leaned into the caress, the tension in your body slowly beginning to melt away.

For a while, you both lay there, just breathing, the sound of your harsh pants slowly evening out as your heart rates returned to normal. The silence between you was conent, a shared understanding that didn't require any words. You felt the warmth of his body, the steady thump of his heart, and the sticky warmth between your legs.

Spencer was the first to move, cupping your cheek gently and turning your face to look at him. His eyes searched yours, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brought you into a sweet, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled away, the words he whispered were filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief. "I can't believe I finally have you," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

The truth of his words hung in the air, the weight of them heavy on your chest. You had both crossed a line, one that could never be uncrossed. But as you stared into his eyes, the warmth of his gaze and the tender way he held you made you feel that this was right. That this was what you both needed.

You felt his cock begin to soften inside you, the pulsing subsiding as your bodies slowly calmed from the intense climax. The feeling was strange, almost bittersweet, as if your body was mourning the loss of his hardness. Gently, he pulled out, his movements careful and deliberate, mindful of your sensitivity. A gush of warmth accompanied his exit, leaving a wetness that was both a reminder of what had just occurred and a promise of what was to come.

Spencer looked down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brushed a stray hair from your face. "Come on," he prompted. "Let's get cleaned up." He offered you a hand, helping you to your unsteady feet. Your legs felt like jelly, weak from the pleasure he had wrung from your body. You took his hand gratefully, allowing him to lead you to the bathroom.

Spencer turned the shower on, the sound of rushing water filling the small space. He stepped in, testing the temperature with his hand before turning back to you with a nod, extending his hand once again. You stepped in, the warm spray cascading over your bodies, washing away the sweat and semen.

He took a washcloth soaking it in the warm water, and gently began to clean you. You watched him, the tender way he moved the cloth across your skin, wiping away the sweat and slick. His eyes were focused on his task, the intensity of the moments before replaced by a softness that made your heart ache.

You leaned into his touch, your body relaxing against his as he took care of you. Each stroke of the washcloth was like a caress, soothing the ache in your muscles and the throb of your pussy. He was thorough, paying special attention to every inch of your skin, as if he was worshipping your body.

Once he was satisfied that you were clean, Spencer quickly cleaned himself and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before turning his attention back to you. "Let me dry you off," he murmured, his eyes gentle.

You stepped out of the shower, the warmth of the water leaving your skin glistening. Spencer took a towel from the rack, his movements methodical as he began to gently pat you down. Starting at your face, he moved down your neck, taking special care around the sensitive areas.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost reverent, as if he was afraid to break the spell that had been cast between you. You felt his hands on your shoulders, sliding down your arms, and around to your back, his touch feather light as he dried your skin. Each brush of the terrycloth cause goosebumps to break out.

Once Spencer had you thoroughly dried, he wrapped the towel around your body, tucking it in tightly, almost like he was afraid to let you go. He took your hand, leading you to the second bed. The mattress dipped under your weight as you sat down, the softness a welcome relief after the intense moments that had passed.

He took a seat beside you, his eyes searching yours. "I need you to understand something," he began, his voice serious. "What we just did, it's not just about the case or the adrenaline. It's not just about the physical attraction we have."

Spencer took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "I want you, not just your body, but all of you," he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. "I want to know every part of you, every thought, every fear, every dream."

You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his heart was laid bare for you. "This isn't just about scratching an itch," he continued. "It's about connecting on a level that goes beyond anything I've ever experienced." His words were a declaration, a promise of something more substantial than the fleeting moments of passion you've shared.

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the shower still clinging to your skin as you searched for the right words. "Spencer," you began, your voice a whisper. "I feel the same way." The confession felt like a weight lifted off your chest. You had been holding it in for so long, the fear of ruining your friendship and professional relationship had kept you from saying what you truly felt.

His eyes searched yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. "Do you mean it?" he asked, his voice hopeful yet tentative.

"Yes," you whispered, the word a promise that seemed to echo through the quiet hotel room. "I do." Spencer's hand tightened around yours, his smile growing as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It was a kiss that spoke of relief and joy, a silent acknowledgement that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

As the tension between you dissipated, you both got ready for bed, moving with a newfound ease. You slid under the cool sheets of the second bed. Spencer followed, his body fitting against yours as if he had been made for you.

You were so giddy with the intensity of what had just transpired that you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep. Yet, as you cuddled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfort of his embrace began to lull you into a peaceful slumber. His arms tightened around you, his warmth seeping into your very bones.

As the night passed, you both slipped into a deep sleep, your bodies entwined like lovers lost in each other’s embrace. The tension of the case and the passion between you had drained you both, leaving nothing but peaceful rest.

[soelstress]

Silent In the Library

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: While on a mission with Bucky, both of you get creative to avoid detection.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , explicit sex/smut, fingering , p in v sex , unprotected sex , sex in a library , some language

A/N 1 - This is my second submission for @mercurial-chuckles Smutty September Fest. Thank you for doing this challenge, it's been fun playing around with the prompts.

A/N 2 - Prompts - Asked a friend to pick up to five prompts for me... of course I was given five so two stories it is 🙈 7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 14) Library sex for those dark academia vibes

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - I think the photo was from the 'Fresh' Flaunt photoshoot but I saved it from Google

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

Your limited sight in the dark night only heightened your other senses. Branches of the hedge dug into the skin of your back, scraping the exposed flesh. Warm pants tickled your ear. The smell of fresh greenery swirled with cologne, but the hand around your throat prevented you from inhaling. Your heart pounded and breaths became shorter, you couldn’t take much more.

“Come with me”.

You froze when he suddenly crumpled to the ground without a noise. Not daring to even breathe, your eyes darted around. A shift in the shadows caught your attention, moonlight softly reflecting off black and gold Vibranium to reveal the presence of your saviour. You took a deep breath in relief, the sudden rush of air triggering a coughing fit. “What took you so long?” 

A scoff reached you long before the outline of your mission partner, barely visible in his dark attire. “Despite what Sam believes, I do not have ‘cyborg x-ray vision’. Took me awhile to dodge security AND find you. In a maze. That’s out of bounds. Couldn’t have made it any easier for me, could you?” He stopped near you, pausing as your coughing fit didn’t seem to be easing. “You ok?”

You raised your arms in an attempt to ease your spluttering. After a few moments, it slowed. “Unfortunately for you, yes”. You took a few slow breaths before turning to him. “Sorry for any extra paperwork, I’m sure you’d prefer that to having to deal with me”.

“I can handle paperwork. What I can’t handle is Sam complaining if something happens to you. I wanted to throw him off the plane because he grilled me for a bruise that you got. After our last mission. Tripping over thin air”. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the weight of his trademark scowl. Hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks from his words which unfortunately were true. “So can we please try to keep you in one piece to complete the mission and the journey home?”

Right. The mission. The one requiring you to break into the mansion of a former Hydra informant to retrieve a drive that contained information on old Hydra bases and activities. The one that Sam swore would be best to infiltrate on the night of a big party to avoid rousing suspicion. The one he insisted on pairing you and Bucky together. James Bucky Barnes - tonight’s savour, the reason you had previously tripped over thin air, and ultimately your unrequited crush. Part of you wanted to kill Sam who teased you mercilessly for your crush but the other part relished the chance to work closely with the sinfully sexy Super Soldier.

The pair of you had decided to attend the party separately, providing two opportunities to grab the drive, but also separate alibis if required. On arrival, you had started by trying to sneak upstairs to the library. But one lone security guard had thwarted your effort and then proceeded to follow you. In a desperate attempt you tried to escape him in the maze but he had cornered you. He had toyed with you, threatening to take you to the host when Bucky had stepped in. 

A soft grunt interrupted your musings. Bucky had picked up the security guard and removed his phone. Walking a few strides to where two hedges met to form a corner, Bucky carefully launched the guard to land on top of the eight foot hedges so he was out of sight from anyone walking by. You couldn’t help chuckling at the sight. Together you both started to follow the path of the maze in a companionable silence. A few turns had been made and in the distance you could see pinpricks of light from the mansion. Bucky’s warm hand grabbed your wrist. “Someone’s coming” he murmured. You knew he’d be thinking about how to fight his way out as quietly as possible. But with one guard down already, you couldn’t risk attracting further attention.  And only one of you had Super Soldier speed. An idea burst into your mind as you glanced around, seeing a small path in the hedge that led to a dead end after a few paces. 

 You turned and yanked him toward you. “What -“ his question was cut off when you pulled him into a fierce kiss. Bucky froze. You were certain he’d shorted circuited and that you would end up having to fight your way through. Pulling away, you made to turn and face the approaching threat but Bucky guided you backwards towards the small path. His left arm cushioned your back from the hedge, hand cupping the back of your head. His nose and lips drifted along your neck and collarbone, growling when your hands gripped the lapels of his jacket in an effort to pull him closer. Lost in a fog of desire, you felt your body trying to meld to his. His right hand gripped your waist, your leg starting to lift up to his waist in response when he froze again. “They’re gone”. Reality washed over you like a cold tidal wave, the heat of embarrassment soon fighting with the chill you’d felt a moment ago. Though you craved so badly to stay pressed to him, you knew that he didn’t feel the same as you. Besides which and most importantly, you had a job to do. Unclenching your fingers from his jacket, you tried to lower your leg discreetly and checked your appearance as a cover. Bucky unwound his arms from around you but didn’t step back. “What was that?”

Face burning, you sidestepped him with a shrug. “All your training and you don’t know how hard it is to run in heels, let alone fight”. As you walked, you could feel heat in your belly and slick pooling in your panties. Unbelievable. You’d acted like a horny teenager - sharing one kiss and then pressing against him as he held you. How the hell had you lost control like that? There were a few moments of your footsteps before you heard Bucky’s tread catch up. Tension was thick as you silently headed towards the mansion. Leaving the maze, you saw people making their way indoors. 

You avoided looking at Bucky. “I’ll mingle”.

“I’ll hit the bar”. 

Both of you separated at the bottom of the stairs, joining the crowds to drift inside. You began to work your way around the room, spending a few minutes in various conversations and contributing noises of agreement or amusement. It would be enough for the fellow guests to notice you in the moment but difficult to remember later while also giving you a good cover in case security was watching. After thirty minutes, you walked down the hallway that led to the ladies room on the next floor but also the main stairs that led to the library on the top floor. 

“Sam’s gonna kill me, your back looks like you got in a fight with an alley cat”. The rough timbre rumbled in your ear. 

Shrugging, you cautiously began to climb the stairs. “Some guys these days can’t manhandle a woman properly. It’s not the first time I’ve been roughed up”. Bucky fell silent as you moved towards the landing of the next floor. You hadn’t noticed the scratches on your back, Bucky must have effectively shielded your back when he pushed you into the hedge. You bit your lip to hold in a soft moan at the thought. From the way the way he’d handled you and the security guard in the maze, you knew that his version of roughing up would be very different.

“Hold up, doll. Security’s sweeping the stairs. Just lean over and wave like you’ve seen someone”. Doing as instructed, you leaned against the railing. Somehow your gaze landed on Bucky at the bar. A choked gasp escaped your mouth at the first clear sight of him. You knew he wore black from his camouflage trick in the maze. But this was something else. Dressed in a form fitting black suit with tousled hair and stubble dusting his cheeks, he had your heart and mind racing. “See something you like, toots?” Caught in a blue gaze, you blinked before waving. Bucky raised a crystal glass of amber liquid, the black jacket looking snug against his beefy arms and broad chest. 

Taking that as a signal to start moving again, you quietly hurried back along the corridor. “Almost didn’t recognise you without that scowl Barnes. You actually look decent”. 

A soft chuckle sounded through the comm, sounds of movement following. You figured Bucky had left the bar. “Well you clean up nicely too. Almost mistook you for a dame in that dress” he teased. As you crept up the final stairway, a mirror was placed opposite the steps and you took a moment to admire the dress you wore. A black velvet maxi dress that was strapless and had a slit up the left side hugged your body. Blushing slightly, you couldn’t help feeling pleased that he had noticed. Reaching the top of the stairs, you moved towards the correct door. 

You glanced behind you before carefully opening the door to the library, slipping inside before you closed it and looked around. Two walls were lined with books, every floor to ceiling shelf filled carefully and pristinely kept. The door you had just walked through was also framed with shelves of books. A giant rustic stone fireplace dominated the fourth wall to your left, a roaring fire illuminating an abstract painting mounted above it. Chesterfield seats were scattered through out the room. A pleasant smell of old books and leather soothed your nerves and you found yourself relaxing. Approaching the fireplace to examine the painting closely, you were suddenly yanked backwards into the left corner of the room near the door. As you wriggled, you managed to elbow your assailant before being restrained. “Calm down toots! It’s me” Bucky grunted in your ear before letting you go. 

“I thought men from the forties were gentlemen?” Grumbling, you turned and straightened your dress before looking at him to see him rubbing where you’d jabbed him. “Gotta say Barnes, grabbing a lady like that tarnishes your reputation as a charmer”. 

Bucky smirked, his face half hidden in darkness. “Depends on your definition of lady, doll. Besides you’re the one who said about being poorly handled in the maze”. You flushed, earlier thoughts of him handling you resurfacing. “Anyway, come look at this”. He pointed towards the left side of the fireplace. On closer inspection you noticed that the fireplace was not built flush into the wall but instead the stone sides jutted a few feet into the room. Before you could ask if the old man needed his eyes checked, he gently took your elbow and led to you the right side of the fireplace. A little corner nook was formed where the fireplace wall met the bookshelf of the adjoining wall. Near the corner a bookshelf slightly wider than Bucky was built in. “There’s an electronic book safe a few shelves up”.

Glancing around, you saw a rolling ladder on a track. You made to move when Bucky beat you to wheeling it as close as possible, but there was a small gap between the shelf and the ladder. Frowning, you glanced at Bucky who nodded and moved to hold the ladder on one side. As you climbed carefully up the rungs, you heard him move to hold both sides to stop the ladder from rolling. Carefully opening the safe cover, you saw the electronic key pad with the spaces for a five digit number flashing. Looking at the buttons, you could see five buttons had been pressed more frequently than others. As the possibilities for the code ran through your head and you eliminated any as a birthday or memorable date, you thought about how the owner of this mansion had become involved, anything you could remember about his background - of course. You scoffed softly and entered the code. 4-9-3-7-2. The lock clicking open echoed in the quiet room. Shaking your head, you reached into the safe and pulled out a small drive the size of a quarter before sealing the safe and replacing the book cover. You began to descend the ladder, carefully feeling for each step before moving. 

Reaching the last rung, you felt Bucky behind you. Inhaling deeply you slowly turned, using the rungs for support until you found yourself eye to eye with him. Without a word he took the drive from you and slipped it in his breast pocket. His flesh hand cupped your cheek. Blazing blue eyes searched your soul before his lips brushed over yours. Warmth rushed through every fibre of your body. As he pulled back slightly, you ached with want, with need. Lifting your right hand from the rung you caught his stubbled chin and pressed a kissed to the dimple before ghosting a kiss at each corner of his mouth. With a sharp inhale Bucky kissed you softly, almost reverently. He deliberately took his time, a sharp contrast to the fierce kiss in the maze. This was so much better than you had ever imagined, his lips firm and soft though roughened by the stubble peppering his face. You gasped when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking access to your mouth. Once granted his tongue carefully tasted and teased, licking along your teeth and sending shivers down your spine. His tongue brushed yours and you could taste the whiskey he had been nursing earlier. Your thighs pressed together at his luscious licks, imagining that wicked tongue somewhere else. The hand holding his chin moved to drift through his hair while the other arm wrapped around his thick frame. Chests pressed together your leg slowly slid up and wrapped around his waist, grinding against him as you captured and sensually suckled his tongue. With a groan Bucky lifted you off the ladder and held you close. Your other leg wrapped around him as you continue to rub against him. 

Bucky’s lips moved to leave  a wet trail on your face, neck and chest. His right hand moved down your dress and snuck in along the slit. Cerulean eyes widened when he found how wet you were for him.

“The maze” you whisper, answering his unasked question.  

Nuzzling your neck, his fingers slid under the material and glided through your soaking folds. You bit back a moan when he brushed over your clit. One thick finger pushed  inside you, causing you to arch into him. “Fuck… so tight, baby”. As he moaned in your ear, another finger entered you. His thumb brushed your clit as his fingers curled upward. “Squeezing me so tight… God you feel so good”. The only sound that you could hear was your panting and the sound of his fingers fucking you. A burning pressure began to build.

“Barnes” you whimpered, humping his hand frantically. 

“That’s it sweet girl, cum for me”. Bucky’s smile widened as you clamped down on his fingers, his mouth swooping down over yours to catch any noise. 

Using his Vibranium arm to lift you higher, Bucky’s flesh hand fumbled to undo the waistband of his trousers. The sound of a zipper opening reached your ears. Searching blindly your fingers grasped his hot velvet flesh and gently squeezed the tip.

“Been hard since I first saw you in this dress earlier today”. Your eyes widened at the understanding Bucky had wanted you before leaving for the mission. “I wanted to break the fingers of that asshole who dared to touch you”. 

Longing flooded you at the dark threat. “Want you so much. Bucky… Please” you whimpered.

As he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds and over your clit his gaze burned into you, marking you. Lowering you slowly onto his cock, both of you groaned as the thick flesh stretched you deliciously. Once his groin met yours, you let out a small whine at being filled so deeply. 

Before he could move the door to the room opened, chatter and light filling the quiet space. Bucky quietly pushed the ladder back toward its original position before pressing you against the fireplace wall, only the length of the fireplace wall and shadows caused by the fire hiding your presence from the newcomers. Bucky’s eyes never left yours but you could tell his attention was elsewhere. Annoyance swept through you at the second interruption of the night chased by desire. Right now, you didn’t care that your mission was to infiltrate the home of a Hydra agent to steal essential intelligence. Right now, all that mattered was that Bucky - the man who you’d wanted for so long -  was here with you, inside you. These people could notice you at any moment, could catch Bucky balls deep inside you… 

At the thought, your core clenched around him which caused Bucky to let out a muffled curse. His dark brow raised in silent query. You’d never felt so exposed, so reckless and you wanted him in it with you. Rocking your hips, you tried to start moving against him. Bucky’s hold on you tightened as he shifted. A whimper escaped you as he nudged your clit with his movements. His flesh hand covered your mouth, both of you straining to hear any hints that you had been detected. But the chatter carried on, ignorant to the raw exhibition only a few feet away. 

Bucky placed a single finger against your lips in warning. You gently licked his finger before nipping the tip and sucking it into your mouth. Jaw dropping, he inhaled slowly before he began to move. Tongue swirling around the digit, your sucking matched the pace of his slow and steady thrusts. As his body temperature began to rise you were caught in a delightful concoction of senses - Bucky’s scent of sandalwood mixed with the smell of the library, drowning in the depths of his loving and lustful gaze, tasting the slight tang of your arousal on his finger and the feel of his body caging you as you clung tightly to Bucky, trying to pull him even closer. Cautiously he positioned you against the shelf, leaving you immobilised and unable to do anything except continue to take his measured movements. He began to roll his hips and pulled back before repeating the motion. As a wave of heat began to build, you could swear you felt his cock harden further. “Cum” he breathed in your ear. The dam broke and the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you. Feeling a cry rise in your throat you kissed Bucky desperately. With a gasp he twitched inside you, filling you as he rolled his hips to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

Distantly, you heard the door open and close. Only the gentle crackling of the fire and soft panting filled the room now. Bucky lowered you till you stood on slightly wobbly legs and slowly pulled out of you. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully wiped between your legs before doing the same to himself. Eyes locked with yours, he tugged your underwear and dress back into place before tucking himself back into his pants, placing the folded handkerchief into his pants pocket. Leaning forward he caught your mouth in a soft tender kiss. “That should’ve been our first kiss” he murmured. 

“So what happens now?” You hated to think that this had only happened because of the mission, that nothing had changed. When his fingers entwined with yours, you were surprised to see him smiling softly.

“Long term? I want to court you baby, for you to be my girl and me to be your guy. But now? We leave, head home and handover the drive”. A twinkle danced in his eye as his smile changed to a smirk. “And then I want to hear you all night. No interruptions. No being quiet.” His brow puckered in confusion when you giggled. “What?”

“Looks like we’ll both be giving Sam something to complain about”.

[demensrage]

f for fucking you until you lose your mind ⚊ • . with zaraki kenpachi

summary: when stress is beyond his ability to bear, kenpachi of the eleventh division must use his favorite container of semen to ease his mind.

cw: unestablished relationship, praise kink, petnames, big dick!zaraki, doggy style, fingering, oral (f. receiving), creampie.

wordcount: 4.6k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

You always had a lot of work, especially because in the division you're part of, the work seems never to end. Having a boss with an unhealthy obsession for following the rules, there's always something to do, no matter how insignificant. I knew that being part of the Sixth Division would never be easy, especially because they always expect something from you. You don't do your job to become a captain or lieutenant; you really do it because you were chosen to be part of it.

You don't even know why you ended up in this division; you aspired to be part of the patrol corps. That way, you could legally travel to the human world without appearing as a deserter, but you don't complain. The atmosphere is good when the captain isn't lurking around, watching everyone's illicit movements, especially now that he seems to have had a reality check about how he views life. You thank Ichigo for making him see reason.

Things were starting to calm down in the Seireitei. For two months now, everything seemed lighter—less tension between the captains and more order. After the intrusion into the Soul Society, several meetings took place. From what you had heard, the surveillance forces were reinforced. Of course, they had to; some kids broke into the place believed to be impenetrable, and they must project a good image with the security changes and reinforcements, especially after Aizen and Gin's betrayal.

As you sat in the office, organizing the documents you had been given, you couldn't help but curse your luck. Renji was on a mission in the human world, which meant all his paperwork had ended up on your desk. You sighed deeply, wondering when Byakuya had decided you were more useful in the Seireitei dealing with bureaucratic tasks than on the battlefield.

Your pen glided over the reports, but your mind was elsewhere, distracted. The Seireitei was quieter than usual, and that only intensified your frustration. You had trained, you had fought, and now you felt trapped behind a desk.

You didn't even get the chance to deal with the Ryoka situation. Despite preparing for it, your captain had been clear in his decision: "I'm not going to waste your intellect on the battlefield," he had told you, as if those words were enough to quell the frustration you felt. But they weren't. In fact, they only made you feel even more trapped in this maze of papers, where your ability to fight seemed to have no value.

You looked at the pile of documents on your desk and felt a weight in your chest. You had always admired those who fought in the field, like Kenpachi, who found their greatest purpose in battle. And there you were, considered too valuable to waste on something as "mundane" as a fight, according to your captain.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, and you immediately recognized who it was—that energy was unmistakable. Zaraki Kenpachi was nearby. It wasn't common for him to approach the offices, which sent a mix of curiosity and tension through your body.

The door to your office swung open abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up only to see his imposing figure leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with his typical mocking smile.

"Let's go," he said, without even bothering to explain further.

The order was as direct as he was, and your heart skipped a beat. He didn't give you time to think or ask why he was there or what he wanted, though you could make a vague guess.

"Byakuya is nearby, Zaraki," you reminded him, trying to impose some logic on a situation that clearly had none. Knowing the friction between both captains, it was a bad omen for Zaraki to show up unannounced. Neither of them could stand each other, not even a little, and they avoided being near each other outside of strict work requirements.

Zaraki let out a harsh laugh, unfazed by your warning. "So what? Let him come if he wants... He could use some fun," he replied disdainfully, a dangerous spark shining in his eyes.

It was typical of him—defiant, irreverent. He didn’t care what Byakuya or anyone else thought. And although you had grown accustomed to Kenpachi’s unpredictable nature, his presence now made you feel vulnerable.

"It won't be fun if my work gets compromised," you grumbled, starting to file away the documents you'd already reviewed. You knew there was no escaping Zaraki once he'd made a decision, but that didn't stop you from expressing your frustration.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you as you continued organizing the papers, but Zaraki's impatient nature made one thing clear: if you took too long, he wouldn’t hesitate to do something even more reckless.

“Boring work,” he murmured with a mocking grin. “That’s not what defines you. Let’s go before you regret it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and though it irritated you that he barged into your space and routine, a part of you knew that going along with him would be far more exciting than the papers in your hands.

With curiosity scratching at the back of your mind, you finally set the documents aside and rose from your seat, resigned. You knew that despite your complaints, there was a part of you that couldn’t resist what Zaraki offered: an escape from the tedium, the monotony, and, above all, a dose of adrenaline.

Without saying anything more, you walked toward him, feeling the tension melt away as you left the office and ventured into the unknown. Zaraki turned around with his usual confidence and began walking without looking back, as if he already knew you would follow. After all, when Kenpachi Zaraki asked you to join him, you knew that “fun” was guaranteed, though sometimes fun with him could turn dangerously chaotic.

You had no idea how you ended up in such a compromising position, straddling his lap as his tongue roved over your skin with an insatiable hunger. He licked and sucked at the delicate skin of your breasts, barely covered by your shihakusho. The heat of his body, the wild scent that always accompanied him, and the way he engulfed you made you lose track of everything except the desire consuming you.

This wasn’t the first time you had found yourself tangled up with Zaraki like this. You’d lost count of how many times you’d woken up at his place, subjected to his will and his insatiable need to possess you.

You tried to make sense of the situation, but it was impossible. No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn’t tell whether Zaraki preferred to fight with you, fuck you, or if the two were intertwined in his mind, an extension of his untamable nature. The only thing that was clear was that when he had you like this, any attempt at control or reason was completely out of your reach.

The sound of your clothes being ripped filled the room, and the air became thick with tension. The way Zaraki kneaded your breasts, with a mixture of roughness and hunger, made a moan escape your lips. You couldn’t help it—your hands buried themselves in his wild hair, pulling him closer as his lips mercilessly claimed your flesh.

This whole situation was a damn contradiction. You had promised yourself and your principles not to get involved with him, not to fall into temptation. But the captain of the 11th Division was a walking sin, an embodiment of lust that pulled you in with just a glance. He enveloped you in his desire in the same way he did on the battlefield—with violence, with intensity, with a hunger that seemed endless.

And now here you were, completely surrendered to his touch, to the bites he planted on your nipples, sending waves of forbidden pleasure through your body.

It was messed up. Messed up because you knew you should keep your distance from him, but instead, you found yourself getting closer, relishing in the painful pleasure he provoked. You were growing feverish for him, for the man you should have kept away from, but who always dragged you into his jaws as easily as he crushed his enemies.

You explored his body with reverence, a mix of desire and submission. Every line of his tense muscles under your fingers was a reminder of the brutal strength he possessed, the same strength that now seemed to be given to you. You knew he was desperate—you felt it in the way he grabbed you, in the urgency of his hands. He always sought you when he needed instant release, when the weight of being a captain was too much, and the instinct to fight in him began to consume him.

For Zaraki, life was always a battle. And right now, this moment between your intertwined bodies was his battlefield.

Your fingers glided over his torso, tracing scars you knew well—marks from past battles that he carried with pride. Every touch seemed to ignite the fire in his eyes, and though he didn't say it, you understood what it meant. He wasn’t one for sweet words or affectionate gestures, but in these moments, when his desire overflowed, you were his escape, his way of releasing the pressure that came with being a warrior always on the edge.

Your lips brushed his neck as your hands continued exploring his skin. He growled, a low, guttural sound, and at that moment, you knew he was completely lost to you. There was no turning back. He didn’t need to tell you that right now, you were both his opponent and his release.

You arched your back as you felt him suck forcefully, sharp pleasure shooting through every fiber of your being as your nails dug into his shoulders. Zaraki was an unstoppable force, and though his desire was ravenous, there was something in the way he touched you that spoke of more than just lust. His need for you was as raw as his very nature.

To Zaraki, at first, you were just another arrogant figure, one more from the pretentious Sixth Division. The same attitude he despised in Byakuya, he thought you shared as well. He had no patience for pride games or the rigidity of rules and saw you in the same light—until he saw you fight.

That’s when everything changed. On the battlefield, far from the formalities and stiffness of your division, you had shown you were something more. He saw a spark in you that caught his attention, a fierceness he hadn’t expected to find. You weren’t as arrogant as he’d thought, not when you drew your zanpakutō and let your true instincts take over.

Your hips rolled over his hardness, feeling the pressure between you grow with every movement. The need to strip him of his clothes was almost desperate, an action seeking to release the tension building between you both. However, just as you were about to succeed, his voice echoed in the air, mocking and deep: "Anxious?"

His hands, strong and firm, trailed down your stomach, the touch sending a shiver of anticipation through your body. When his fingers slipped between your legs, an involuntary moan escaped your lips. It was a bold move, a reminder of his dominance, and at the same time, an invitation to lose yourself in the moment.

The way he touched you was both a question and a statement. His fingers explored, teased, and ignited a burning need that seemed impossible to quench. Every caress made your hips move with more urgency, an uncontrollable impulse that only intensified the tension between you.

You felt him curve his fingers inside you, pumping with a precision that stole your breath away. The pleasure hit you so intensely that your head fell back, your lips parted, releasing a raw and ragged moan that echoed in the room. Your body reacted instinctively, arching against his touch, as every movement he made caused you to tremble more.

Zaraki watched with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, his eyes locked on your expression of complete surrender. You could feel his own need growing with every passing second, but as always, he had his own pace, savoring every reaction he drew from you.

Your nails dug deep into his skin, leaving marks as you felt him lift you effortlessly, turning your body until you were lying on the bed. The moment your back hit the sheets, his hands disappeared, leaving an emptiness between your legs that made you arch desperately, seeking the pressure you had just lost.

Zaraki gave you no respite. With his gaze fixed on you, his expert hands tore off what was left of your clothes, stripping you completely in the blink of an eye. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also eager, your body burning from the lack of contact. And like the hungry man he was, Zaraki wasted no time in taking what he wanted. He grabbed you firmly, parting your legs without consideration, opening you up for him with a brutality only he could manage, leaving you completely at his mercy, ready to be devoured.

His gaze darkened, taking in every corner of you, his heavy breathing and palpable need, and you, trembling under his control, could only wait for him to take you as only he knew how to do, with that mix of desire and savagery that left you on the edge of the abyss every time.

“First I plan to feast on this pretty little pussy you have for me,” Zaraki murmured, his voice husky and heavy with desire, as his thumb began to move firmly against your clit. The sensation shook you, making you shiver under his control. You arched into him, but he was determined to take his time, enjoying every second of your desperation.

He knelt between your spread legs, leaning over you, and began to leave kisses and bites on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch of his lips, each bite that left small marks on your skin, only increased the tension within you. You could feel his hot breath coming closer to your core, as your body responded with each caress, unable to contain the moans that escaped your lips.

You grabbed his hair tightly, pulling on it desperately, guiding it to where you wanted it most. Your body trembled, clenching in a void only he could fill, as your legs spread wider, offering yourself to him without reservation. You couldn’t think of anything but the urgent need to feel him, to have his mouth and hands tear you from the misery of waiting.

“Just a little,” you whispered, your voice cracking with desire, your hips leaning into him in search of that release he seemed to purposely deny you. Your pussy throbbed, clenching around nothing, eager for the contact Zaraki was taking his time giving you.

He placed a slow, deliberate kiss on your folds, the warmth of his mouth drawing a barely contained moan from you. His eyes lifted to meet yours, that dark gaze filled with desire. The smile that curved his lips was pure arrogance, as if he relished in your desperation, as if he knew exactly the power he had over you at that moment.

And then, without further warning, he devoured you. His mouth sank into you, his tongue moving with precision, licking and sucking every corner, drawing moans from you that you couldn’t control. The sensation shot through you like lightning, making you arch your back as your hands tangled themselves tighter in his hair, clinging to him as if he were going to consume you whole.

His tongue moved slowly but firmly, tracing every fold with a precision that made you lose your breath. The heat of his mouth and the pressure of his lips against you drew involuntary moans from you, louder and louder. Zaraki relished in every reaction from you, devouring you mercilessly, knowing perfectly how to bring you to the edge of ecstasy.

His hands held your hips in place as his tongue teased your clit, alternating between sucking and gentle licks that drove you wild. The pleasure built up, making you feel like you were going to explode at any moment. You arched into him, seeking more contact, but he remained in control, giving you exactly what he wanted and at his pace.

Every time you thought you couldn't take any more, he changed the pace, making your body tense with anticipation and desire.

You couldn't help yourself. The moment you felt his fingers sink into you with ease, you arched up and began grinding your hips against his face, seeking more of that delicious friction that was driving you crazy. The warmth and wetness of his mouth, coupled with the insistent rhythm of his fingers pumping inside you, had you losing control.

Every thrust, every movement of his, brought you closer to the edge, as your moans filled the room. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, pulling hard as you held onto the feeling he gave you, completely surrendered to the pleasure Zaraki knew how to draw from you.

Your hips moved against his mouth, feeling his tongue continue to play with your clit as his fingers curled inside you found that spot that made you tremble, making it clear that he wouldn’t let you go until he saw you completely broken by pleasure.

Zaraki growled against you as he felt your hips grind more insistently against his face, his fingers sinking deeper and moving with merciless precision. “You like it that way, don’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and laden with satisfaction. "You're so damn impatient… you can't even wait, huh?"

His words turned you on even more, and you couldn't hold back a moan as your hands tugged hard at his hair, guiding him even closer. "Shut up and keep going…" you gasped, your body shaking with every movement of his tongue and fingers. You needed it, you wanted it, and there was no turning back now.

"Always so bossy," he taunted, his cocky smirk visible even as his tongue continued to torture you, licking and sucking with more intensity. "But look at how you're begging me… you're such a slut when you're like this."

Those words made you shudder, your hips instinctively moving against him, seeking more, seeking the finish only he could give you. "Fuck, Zaraki…" you moaned, feeling his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

"Do you feel it?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his thumb pressed hard against your clit. “I’m going to make you cum, and you’re going to scream my name like the good girl you are.”

The combination of his mouth and fingers was too much, the pleasure building so fast you could barely think. “Yes… fuck, yes…” you moaned, your body getting closer and closer to the edge, unable to resist the absolute control he had over you.

But he had other plans for you. With one last teasing lick, he pulled away from you, leaving a void that made you moan in frustration. He looked at you with a mischievous grin as he removed his clothes, each item falling to the floor, revealing his muscled, defined body, perfectly designed for domination.

“Turn around and put that little ass up for me,” he ordered, his voice deep and full of desire. “I want to see that beautiful ass offer itself to me. Come on, I want to enjoy you.”

You didn’t have to think twice. Heart pounding, you turned around, arching your back as you lifted your hips, offering your body to his mercy.

“That’s it, good girl. Show off that perfect little ass just for me,” he said, his hands firm on your hips as he took in your exposed body. “You love it when I tell you what to do, don’t you? You know you’re mine, and I love it when you get like this.”

You nodded, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at his words. “Yes, I love it… I want you to use me,” you replied, desire burning in your chest as you offered yourself completely.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a lust-laden whisper. “I’m going to make you scream, and I want to hear you beg me for more. I just hope you’re ready for what’s coming, because I’m not holding back this time.”

Zaraki leaned forward, his warm, powerful body pressing against your back. You could feel his hardness against you, and it only increased the need burning inside you. “You’re so damn delicious,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself to enter you.

With one firm motion, he pushed his body against you, filling you completely. A deep moan escaped your lips, and you couldn’t help but press your hips back, seeking more of that sensation only he could offer. “That’s it, baby,” he said, enjoying the way you gave yourself to him. “Let me feel you clench for me.”

He continued to move inside you, his pace slow at first, but soon turning into a mix of ferocity and control. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured, picking up speed, as his hands continued to roam every curve of your body. “Tell me. Tell me you like me using you like this.”

“Yes… yes, Zaraki,” you moaned, feeling yourself being pushed to the edge of your pleasure. “I love it… I love it when you take me like this.” Your words made him smile, and that only fueled the fire between you more.

“You’re such a good girl, always ready for what I give you,” he said, his voice deeper, as he increased the intensity of his thrusts. “Don’t play dumb, I know you want this as much as I do. Scream my name, I want to hear you break for me.”

“Zaraki…!” you cried, feeling the pleasure building in your belly, taking you to the point of no return. Each thrust made it more intense, each rub against your inner walls bringing you closer to the abyss. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

Zaraki growled with a smile of pure pride as he watched you collapse onto the bed, your chest crushed against the sheets as you moaned and squealed under his control. His large, rough hands gripped your hips, making sure you couldn't escape what was to come. Every movement of his hips was calculated, searching for that perfect angle that would draw out every heart-wrenching moan he loved to hear.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room, but he only cared about one thing: getting you to the point where you couldn't think of anything but him, his hardness filling you completely.

“That’s it… stay there, hold on… you’re going to be cock drunk by the time I’m done with you,” he growled, increasing the pace until you were babbling incoherently. Your hands tried to grab onto the sheets, but you were too lost in the maelstrom of pleasure to hold on to anything. Each direct hit to your cervix drew louder cries from you, your walls clenching around him desperately.

Your eyes were completely clouded with tears of pure pleasure, you could barely see, but the sensation was overwhelming, filling you to the brim in a way only Zaraki could. Everything in you was shaking, the pressure in your belly was unbearable, and you knew you were close to breaking completely. Then, you felt him slide two of his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste them. The base of his cock glistened with a mix of your juices and his pre-seed.

“Look how fucking wet you are, baby,” he growled with a crooked smile, his fingers curling in your mouth, playing with your tongue as he kept up his relentless thrusts. “You know how good you make me feel, don’t you? All drunk on my cock, you can’t even think about anything else, right?”

Your eyes rolled back as you sucked on his fingers hungrily, unable to respond coherently, babbling between uncontrollable moans. Each slam against your pussy drew a gasp from you, as your inner walls tightened around him, a vicious cycle of pleasure that was tearing you apart from the inside.

And as he continued, your tears fell, your moans turning into sobs, completely lost in him, in that desperate need to feel him, to have him fill you to the point of no return.

Zaraki slowly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, leaving a wet trail as he guided them to your pussy, his large, calloused hands squeezing your bundle of nerves and pinching it. One of your hands shot up to his grip on your hip, seeking any sort of stability as he increased the force of his thrusts, making you feel every inch of his hardness sinking deeper into you.

The wet, messy sound of his thrusts filled the room, and with each movement, he ripped moans from you that could only be described as desperate. “More… please, more…” you gasped raggedly, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

Zaraki let out a husky laugh, pleased by how broken and needy you were for him. “You want more, huh?” I don't know if your body can take it, but I'm going to give you what you ask for anyway," he murmured, pressing his hands harder against your skin, lifting you up and pressing you against his body to make sure you felt every thrust deep inside you.

With each thrust of his hips, your body reacted as if it were on the verge of collapse. Your moans built into an uncontrolled crescendo, as you felt the pleasure drag you over the edge. “That’s it… keep asking, baby… I want to hear how needy you are for me to fill you,” he growled, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip, holding you tight to sink even deeper into you.

You were completely lost, your thoughts washed away by the pleasure, and all you could do was cling to him, begging with incoherent moans and babbles, completely at his mercy, as he fucked you harder, deeper, bringing you to a point where reality and pleasure blurred into a whirlwind of intoxicating sensations.

You squeezed him tightly, feeling his seed flooding inside you, hot and thick, filling you to the brim. Pleasure washed over you, a rush of sensations that left you breathless as you rode the wave of ecstasy.

“Zaraki!” you commanded, your voice echoing with desperation and desire, as if you were trying to absorb every bit of him, every moment that belonged to you. In that instant, you felt like you would never get enough of him, of his body, of his intensity, of the way he made you forget the world and kept you completely caught up in his maelstrom of pleasure.

He let out a low, satisfied laugh as his gaze met yours, filled with arrogance and desire. “See? I told you I was going to leave you a mess, crying for more.” His hips continued to move, slow at first, enjoying every second, making sure you felt every inch of his p0ll4 still inside you, but increasing the pressure with one final movement.

“But, baby, this is just the beginning. There’s always more for you.” His tone was a whisper laden with promise, and you knew that every time you fell into his arms, you were swept away into a world where he was your only reality, where everything revolved around that intense, wild connection you shared.

The euphoria of his seed inside you transformed into a heat that left you yearning for more, and no matter how many times he filled you, there would always be an insatiable hunger for him.

[radfemsiren]

Remembering my Afghani American best friend from my islamic elementary and middle school whose dad would get drunk every night and beat the shit out of her mother. She begged and begged for sleepovers because strangers in the house would make him leave, and I never told my parents about the situation (I lied and said she had no father or brothers) because I loved spending time at her house and staying up the whole night doing all the things we weren’t allowed to do that was “haram”… watching rated r movies, playing horror computer games, dancing to music videos on YouTube, cat walking in heels and makeup, scaring ourselves with creepypastas.

I remember we had a million stupid ass discussions about who the purple guy from five nights at Freddies was, or what a slenderman proxy meant, or if there were illuminati signs in Katy Perry music videos, or if emo drawings of Jeff the killer were hot. We’d whisper fight if Beyoncé or Lana del Rey was a better singer, or if teen wolf or maze runner had cuter boys. She was team Beyoncé and teen wolf.

We had to constantly be separated in school for talking, and we hated the creepy janitor and would throw wads of wet paper towel on the bathroom ceiling for him to clean up later. We got into so much trouble together, and would always smirk at each other in detention when we got yelled at. We’d shoplift lipsticks from the mall, and throw away expensive Quran transliterations from school, and sneak into the teachers break room and steal handfuls of ice and throw them on the imam/principal’s desk when he was gone to ruin his paperwork.

I moved away like I always had to do with my constantly migrating family and we lost touch. The last time I saw her in person was when we were still kids at her brothers wedding. I was laughing while I tried to ask her why the bride kept changing into different brightly colored dresses throughout the night. She wasn’t listening, and she burst into tears and cried about how her brother was just like her father and did every horrible thing he did. I held her and squeezed her so tight I thought her bones would break.

I recently tried to reconnect with her again but she’s already married, pregnant, and has abandoned social media and texting because it’s “haram.” Trying to talk to her was like speaking to a stranger… she had no interest in any of the things we would spend hours playing with before. “Islam is important to me now, I’m a new woman. We were messed up kids, it’s time to grow up.” She told me to never contact her again and hung up the phone.

Sometimes I feel like I failed her, and sometimes I understand that I was a girl trying to survive too.

One day I’ll save money to travel back there and talk to her in person. I’ll snap her out of it. We’ll spend all night up together again doing every terrible thing our teachers and parents and religious leaders warned us against, and laughing the whole way through it. We’ll get kicked out of bars and get into trouble and snicker our way through it all, knowing we’ve already won. I still have her dirty, worn, my littlest pet shop horse she gave me when we first met. I hold it in my hands when I see news of the what’s happening to the women of Afghanistan, and I feel like I’ve failed her again. That I’ll forever be stuck an immature child and her a miserable adult, both of us doomed, unable to be saved from our fates in the end.

[petalruesimblr]

Hello and welcome back to my blog! This is part two of my #FollowersGift and if you have missed the first part of my gift, click here to check it out.

This post provides information about five part-time careers and their individual downloads, in case you prefer to choose one or two careers instead. However, if you want to download the SimGuard Security Services career pack—which includes the full-time career and all five part-time options - please refer to part one of the post using the link provided above.

Thank you to all my followers for the likes, reblogs, downloads of my content and all your kind comments! I truly appreciate each and every one of them.💜

If you are interested, click on ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures of the SimGuard Security Part-Time Career.

SimGuard Security (City Hall) | SimGuard Security (Grocery) | SimGuard Security (Hospital) | SimGuard Security (School) | SimGuard Security (Science)

Individual files: Full Time Career - Sim File Share | Part-Times: City Hall - Sim File Share | Grocery - Sim File Share | Hospital - Sim File Share | School - Sim File Share | Science - Sim File Share Bulk Download: click here

City Hall: Join our SimGuard Security team at City Hall and play a pivotal role in safeguarding our civic center and its esteemed personnel. With your sharp eye and quick wit, you'll monitor security cameras, thwart would-be pranksters and maintain a safe environment for our city's esteemed bureaucrats. Join our dedicated squad and be the shield that keeps City Hall running smoothly. Apply now and help us uphold security with a smile!

Grocery: Join our SimGuard Security team at the grocery store and play a crucial role in safeguarding our customers and merchandise. As a SimGuard Security member, you will greet shoppers with a smile, maintain a watchful eye to prevent theft and ensure a safe shopping environment for all. Become a part of our dedicated team committed to delivering exceptional security services in every aisle. Apply now and help us keep our grocery store a safe haven for shopping!

Hospital: We're on the lookout for a vigilant Security Guard to maintain order and ensure that our hospital remains a haven of health, not chaos. Duties include fending off unruly patients, monitoring suspiciously large amounts of bedpan traffic and making sure no one sneaks out with a hospital gown as a fashion statement. If you have an eye for detail and a cool head in high-pressure situations, apply today!

School: Are you ready to enforce the rules and handle mischief-makers? Our school needs a sharp-eyed Security Guard to patrol the hallways, break up dodgeball brawls, ensure that no one has a fake hall pass and occasionally chase down runaway mascots. If you can navigate a maze of students and paperwork without losing your cool, you're exactly who we're looking for!

Science: We need a Security Guard for our cutting-edge science facility to ensure that our groundbreaking experiments remain just that—groundbreaking, not catastrophic. Duties involve safeguarding volatile concoctions, preventing unauthorized personnel from meddling with the teleportation machine and maintaining a keen eye on any suspiciously intelligent lab rats. If you’re up for a job that’s as explosive as it is exciting, apply now!

Career Type: Part-Time Available for: Young Adults, Adults and Elders Available Languages: English Levels: 3 Rabbit Holes: City Hall, Grocery, Hospital, School and Science Lab Does it have Carpool? Yes Does it have Uniforms? Yes File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3 📣All descriptions for the levels, tones and metrics as well as skills required, salary, uniforms and other details are provided on the pictures above. Right-click on a picture and select ’Open image in new tab’ for a clearer view.

NRAAS Careers Mod

I created this part-time career because, first, I wanted to create the illusion that SimGuard Security Services is assigning their security guards to different rabbit holes in town. Second, I wanted to have different shifts for each of them. Lastly, I wanted some of my Sims to have a part-time security guard gig rather than a full-time career. Skills and Ages: The skills for these part-time positions are the same as those for the full-time role, focusing on athletic and logic skills. However, the security guard assigned to the grocery also needs charisma, as they primarily deal with customers and don't rely heavily on athletic and logic skills during their shifts, in my opinion. This is also why this career is the only one available to elder Sims, in case they need a steady income. Work Hours, Rabbit Holes and Gameplay: Each part-time position has different work hours and is assigned to different rabbit holes: Grocery, City Hall, Science Lab, School, and Hospital. You can also have all of them running simultaneously for one active family if you wish; all of them can work together, including the full-time career. As stated above, you will need NRAAS Careers Mod for these careers to show up in the game and as long as you have the latest version of it, it should work for higher patches. You can also read my #psa regarding these careers, click here. I’m not fluent in any other languages to translate so if anyone is interested in translating this career, please don’t hesitate to send me a message here, comment on this post or let me know in my Ask/Contact form (if you don’t have a Tumblr account) and will let you know the details. I have tested this career in my game, so far it is working and all scripts are showing up. All feedback is very welcome to help me learn and improve my skills so please let me know if you experience any problems on your end and I’ll do my best to sort it as soon as possible.

MissyHissy step-by-step tutorial Twallan for the Career Mod S3pe

[daydreamgoddess14]

Complaints Procedure

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

Literally just 1.5k of pure filth. Sorry, not sorry?! 😅Taken from this prompt.

Inspired by this image:

~~~~~

You knew to avoid the locker room immediately before and after matches. The less than stellar performance of the team during the season had seemingly made everyone angry - even Sam was down. Jamie Tartt continued to annoy and degrade everyone who so much as glanced at him, and the so-called Captain looked about ready to throw in the towel. Getting rid of George Cartrick may have been a wise decision, but his replacement was certainly unorthodox. You had your work cut out for you in HR, it was like babysitting 2 year olds - they all still bit, kicked, and scratched. Seeing you always gave them the initiative to put complaints in, complaints that you had to be seen to legitimately deal with, even if dealing with it meant sitting the idiots involved down and giving them a telling off. You had never told off Roy Kent, though. The man terrified and turned you on in equal measure.

Just the low timbre of his voice made your heart pound and flooded your body with want. Training was long over, so you figured you were safe to take some paperwork down to Ted Lasso's office. Your heels clicked on the concrete as you made your way through the maze of rooms. Wage slips for the folks in the ticket office, holiday forms for the staff in the medical and treatment areas, and the weekly update on player relations that Ted had asked you to draft. Who was fighting with who, who had you had to threaten with suspension, and who you'd just had to give an arse kicking to. As you turn to leave Ted’s office, Roy is coming back in from the showers. With just a towel gripped in his hand. You look literally anywhere else. The ceiling tiles become particularly interesting. 

"Oi, what you doing in here?"

"Just dropping some paperwork off, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, just… thought I was alone, that's all." You drag your eyes from the ceiling to his, drawing an invisible line across his nose so you do not look any lower. "See something you like?" He teases, as if he knows it's taking all your will to not look at his chest or the towel. 

"Definitely not. I'm done now, I'll leave you to it." 

 

You're sure you must hold your breath on the walk from the locker room to your office because as soon as you shut the door, it all comes out in a whoooosh. As good-looking as he is, you can't stand his arrogance, dominance, and anger issues. You knew it was nothing new in football or in work at all, really. You'd seen every layer of the food chain, and it was always the top of the tree who thought they were gods gift. You knew he could be kind and thoughtful. You'd seen it for yourself with the younger, less experienced players and with fans too. It was definitely a certain calibre of person who set him off - the Jamie Tartts and George Cartricks of the world. You're still leaning against your office door when you feel and hear it knock. When it begins to open against your back, you have to jump out of the way so it can swing open. Fully clothed, Roy is on the other side. 

"Do I scare you?" He asked, frowning. 

"Course you don't scare me, I'm not a sodding child." You roll your eyes. "Did you need something?" 

"I might need to put in a complaint." You arch an eyebrow at him, 

"Really? Go on?" He took a step closer to you, so you take a step back. 

"I saw the way you looked at me downstairs -" you scoffed, 

"I did not look at you at all. I actively didn't look at you," you start, angry until you see the smirk. "Oh fuck off, did you come up here just for a laugh? I've got enough to deal with picking up 

after Jamie Tartt since he can't stop making everyone miserable." He holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Alright, alright, just a joke," he laughs a little. "You wanted to look though." 

"You are just like the other idiots. So full of your own self importance, you all think everyone wants you." He narrows his eyes and takes another step towards you.

"At the risk of sounding like any of those pricks, tell me you don't?"

"What makes you think-"

"Humour me." He looks at you like he might devour you at any moment, his eyes dark with just a hint of mirth. He knows what you think about when you see him. You feel your breath quicken, and the urge to press your thighs together is desperate, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Before he can catch you in a lie, he forces you to take one final step back against your desk and leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, obscene kiss. 

 

The shock of it makes you gasp, giving him access to deepen the kiss. Your hands grip at his shoulders to keep him close, trying to get him even closer if it's possible. He leans you back against your desk, the edge of it digging into the back of your thighs while his hands are trying to touch as much of you as possible. By leaning back on the desk, he can kiss along your jawline. It would be impossible now to make out that you don't want him, your greedy hands roam up his arms and into his hair and the sighs and moans he's pulling from you with just a kiss are insane. The length of his body presses against the length of yours and you feel him hard against your hip. Feeling how much he wants you only makes you need him more. Your hand brushes across the front of his jeans, making him jerk to meet it. He breaks the kiss and watches you breathlessly as you move to undo the button in the waistband. You can tell he's about to ask if you're sure, so you place a soft kiss to his lips,

"I want you to fuck me," you tell him quietly. There is still just a hint of hesitation in your voice, but it's more a fear that he'll reject you than anything else. 

"Fucking hell." He sighs into you. He grips your hips and turns you to face the desk, you rest on your forearms. He has your skirt rucked up around your waist in no time at all and nudges your feet a little further apart. You don't have the time or inclination to feel embarrassed or to consider something more meaningful. The singular thought in your mind is having him inside you. You hear the tear of a condom wrapper and feel him at your core. His hand cups you first, wanting to check that you're ready. "You're so fucking wet," he mutters almost proudly. He gives your hip a little squeeze of warning and pushes inside you. 

"God, Roy yesss," you hiss as he fills you completely. Fully seated, he pauses just a minute to reach down and sweep your hair to one side so he can kiss your neck, "please, Roy-" you push back against him, desperate for more. He takes the hint and pounds into you over and over. He’s hitting exactly where you need him with each thrust, and it's enough to have you believing in some sort of deity. You can feel the pressure building and you're so close to the edge it's overwhelming. "I'm so close, please daddy-" the words tumble from you, unfiltered and unexpectedly - that is a brand new one for you, and when you feel his pace slow just slightly, you're terrified that you've repelled him. He moans low in his chest and redoubles his efforts, unyielding, until you come hard, crying out his name. 

"Say it again," he whispers against your ear, his body draped over your back. His hand reaches around to rub circles over your clit and you're so sensitive that the payback is almost immediate and you can feel another orgasm building. 

"Fuck, make me come again daddy," you beg. He does exactly that within seconds of you asking, his own release coming at the same time. He holds your hips while your legs shake, his forehead resting on the center of your back. He slips out of you and disposes of the condom before turning you gently to rest you back against the desk. You keep your head down, chin to chest, mortified at what's just happened until his nose nudges against yours and he kisses you softly. 

"Holy fucking shit, I should threaten to complain again, that was insane," he breathes, still holding your hips and trying to get you to look up at him. 

"I shouldn’t ha-"

"No, don't do that. You're definitely going to say it again," he chuckles against you, "I fucking promise you'll say it again." 

 

FIN

[thebookworm0001]

Fun Sized - Banter Update

Rating: T for innuendo

Summary: Ellana is short. Really short. So of course her companions have to tease her about it.

Link: AO3

Sera: You’re short. Like. Really short.

Ellana: What? I had no idea. I’d spent this whole time thinking everyone else was just exceptionally tall. 

Sera: [Giggles] That would be a trip, wouldn’t it. Wonder if that’s why dwarves are all… like that.

Ellana: The taller the ladder you need to reach your own cabinets, the grumpier you are. It’s just a fact.

(cont. under the cut)

Sera: But you’re not grumpy. Most of the times, at least. 

[if The Iron Bull is in the party]

Bull: That’s because she’s got a good view.

Ellana: I can promise you, that has nothing to do with it. 

Bull: Hey, you can enjoy the painting without wanting to eat the bowl of fruit.

Ellana: Funny, I don’t see any works of art around here. 

Bull: There’s some kitchen servants who might disagree with you. 

[Otherwise]

Ellana: [Laughs] You should say that to my sister. I’m sure she’d have some stories to tell that say otherwise.

Varric: Anyone ever ask you if one of your parents was a dwarf?

Ellana: Oh, very original. Never heard that one before. Are you going to ask if I stunted my growth by sitting in my aravel for too long next? Got kicked in the head by a Halla?

Varric: It’s a serious question. Usually the people I see eye-to-eye with have more than a passing affiliation with the Merchants Guild. 

Varric: With the right contacts and some clever paperwork, you could make some serious coin.

Ellana: Are you… asking if I want to con the Merchant’s Guild?

Varric: No, no, not at all.

Varric: Just saying, when all this is over, you have options.

Ellana: I’m sure my vallaslin won’t cause any problems in this plan of yours.

Varric: Evidence of a forbidden romance. People love a good tragedy - even better if you can scrape out a happy end despite it. 

Varric: They’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.

Vivienne: I was speaking with our Lady Ambassador earlier, and she informed me you had rather firmly rejected her suggestion of incorporating heels into your ensemble.

Ellana: I did. 

Vivienne: Might I inquire as to why?

Ellana: Is it not enough that I simply do not want to wear heels?

Vivienne: Desire is reason enough to do anything, my dear. That does not make it wise.

Vivienne: You are an image for all of Thedas to aspire too, and your battle for legitimacy is not one that will be easily won.

Vivienne: It might help ease the process if those you wish to impress do not have to literally look down their noses at you. 

Ellana: Perhaps. Though I doubt anyone who already dislikes me will have their minds changed by a pair of fancy footwear.

Ellana: Anyway, any respect I gained would be quickly lost the minute I tripped and fell on my ass in front of a room full of dignitaries. 

Ellana: Or even better, I caught my new armor on fire. That would give everyone something to talk about.

Vivienne: Yes, well. Perhaps you are right. Some clever tailoring, then. And posture lessons.

Vivienne: One does not need to be imposing to command a room. 

Bull: Hey Kitten, you ever get lost, just look for the horns. Can’t miss ‘em.

Ellana: And where do you think I’ll be getting so lost that I’ll need to use you as a landmark?

Bull: Oh I don’t know. The crowds in Val Royeaux can get pretty nasty. Then there’s the ramparts, wrecked towns, corn mazes, overgrown fields. Really, just about anywhere.

Ellana: I- I’m not going to disappear into the grass like a lost girl in a child’s story. 

Ellana: What, should I leave a trail of bread behind me? Find a dog to guard me from the Dread Wolf?

Bull: I hear those Ferelden dogs come in pretty handy, actually. But no.

Bull: We might want to put a bell on you though, just in case.

Ellana: Think it’ll rain today?

Bull: Depends.

Ellana: On?

Bull: If you’re aiming at my height or my bad ankle.

Ellana: I could just be making small talk. Plenty of people talk about the weather.

Bull: Yeah, but most people aren’t wringing their fingers for an hour trying to come up with a clever way to ask about it. 

Ellana: My sister was always better at jokes than I was. 

Bull: That’s alright. You’ve got your own strengths.

Bull: For example, I think you’d make a very talented armrest.

Ellana: You know I can set you on fire, right?

Bull: Don’t worry, Kitten, you’re very scary.  

Inspired by @shift-shaping 

Bull: Solas, did you hurt yourself in our last fight?

Solas: I do not believe so. Why?

Bull: You’ve been rubbing at your neck more than usual. Thought you might’ve tweaked it after that one move. I’ve got some tips that could help if it’s sore.

Solas: I thank you for the concern. Your advice would be appreciated. 

Bull: Well, first off, you’ve got to start lifting with your knees. The Inquisitor’s tiny, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hurt yourself picking her up. 

Solas: Excuse me?

Bull: Oh, and you should probably invest in some cushions, maybe those feathery ones the Orlesians have. It’ll help you stay on your knees longer.

Solas: That is none of your concern.

Bull: It is when I get between you and the next templar that takes advantage of your stiff back. 

Bull: Those charging bastards hurt, you know.

Ellana: What information do I have to pass along to the Qun to get you to stop?

Bull: What? It’s friendly advice. If he keeps bending over, he’s going to get stuck that way. 

Bull: I’m just saying, It’s easier if he comes down to your level. 

Ellana: Please just tell me who Josephine needs to blackmail for this to end.

Bull: [Laughs] Now where’s the fun in that?    

    

Blackwall: So, you and the Lady Inquisitor, how does that work?

Solas: Much like any other relationship, presumably. 

Blackwall: Most relationships don’t have one party towering over the other. 

Solas: Really? That is your concern?

Blackwall: Not a concern. Just curious, is all. 

Blackwall: I mean, it can’t be easy. It looks like she’d need to climb scaffolding for anything to line up properly.

[If Cole is in the party] 

Cole: She is precious, held wholly in the palm of my hands. Sweet, small like the frilly cakes she brings me from the kitchens. 

Cole: He likes how small she is. He thinks it’s cute.

Blackwall: Well wasn’t that just adorable.

[Otherwise]

Ellana: Oh is that a dragon I see overhead? No? Pity. I would have appreciated being eaten right about now.

Blackwall: I’m sure Solas would be happy to oblige, my Lady.

Ellana: [Groans] Kill me now.

[gildedkrone]

Ooh. Enemies to lovers but the roles reverse....like what if Reader is working with Shadow Company and Ghost is angsty...before, after or during the mission where Graves betrays them maybe???

I also gotta say the last one you did was so beautifully painful and I love it. 😂

- ☁️

Love doth grow in the shadows

I'm not the proudest over this fic but I hope its what you asked for and yes, I am giving this a happy ending because I'm a good boy.

Relationships: Ghost x Male Reader Synopsis: Shadow soldier you couldn't possibly be with him. Years later, you meet him again. A/N: Written to cardigan by Taylor. Master List

Your heart is his. It was never meant to be his, you know that clearly. Nothing was ever meant to be yours or his. Infiltrating the 141 was easy; you with your charms and quips made you a hit with Gaz and Soap. Your experience made you a hit with Price and eventually, with Ghost.

You think you would be closest with Soap and his antics, ever funny and outgoing but he draws your attention greedily. The masked lieutenant, Ghost is stoic but you find him to be a rock in sea of nerves. Steady as ever and a presence to be reckoned, he is the stability you’ve never had growing up.

And how generous he was with it. He doesn’t say much but his presence is all encompassing. It’s warm, like blanket after use and occasionally, he gives some advice when the road gets tough. The advice is always realistic, as he must be, but with free of judgement and from a heart scarred by the past.

Illicit affairs, is what this is. Instincts are screaming to stop this farce before you are in too deep and no longer able to escape. Graves is up to no good and your hands are no longer the same steady ones at the start of the mission. The image of them in a ditch bleeding out and dying haunts your sleep.

Would you still be able to kill them if Graves commanded it?

Shadow soldier you don’t belong here. But the smiles and the casual interactions are fire to moths and you can’t help if your heart desires to be cherished. To be needed. To be wanted by someone.

“Good job, soldier. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

His words are the blossom of flowers in spring and the sun on the wilted fields of your heart. It’s so cruel, to desire what is within reach but never to stay forever.

Does he know what his words do to you?

Your scars, bleeding from the hearts he drew around them. The late nights when you accompanied him in piles of paperwork is some of your favourites. Getting to be with him, and just him in his office where you pretended this was what mattered in the world.

Just him and you.

He’s sardonic and weathered by the rain and time but in the shell of a man, there’s a good heart beating there. He’s helpful around the recruits. He’s always there to lend his ear even if he has mountains of work to get through. He’s been there every time you needed him.

And a week ago, he took you out to a cat café. Paid for the drinks and to thank you for helping him with the paperwork. The mind is a maze but at the end is the scenes of domesticity, you and him in an apartment lazing on the couch while the TV plays something meaningless.

It makes it all the harder to what needed to be done when all the heart wants is to just be with him. Hold him and be his. You split from the group and stopped beside Graves before the convoy sets off for Alejandro’s base or soon-to-be Graves’ base.

“In twenty, we will relieve them of their duties. Hop into the vehicle with them and keep them in. Don’t mess this up, shadow.”

Soap and Ghost are in the backseat of the vehicle and you take the front passenger seat. The sergeant is in high spirits and Ghost is relaxed into the seat with his shoulders lax and head against the headrest. The men are in high spirits and the convoy starts to move. It’s a death march towards base and Graves is in the lead car with Alejandro.

Fingers grasp the sidearm in your thigh holster. His eyes are in the rear view mirror and it hurts, hurts everywhere to shatter the trust you’ve scrounged together with him. He doesn’t deserve this and he blinks slowly.

What’s wrong?

The Shadows weren’t new to compromised agents and previously, you scoffed at the mention of it. How could good men ever betray their comrades and fail the mission?

Now? You aren’t so sure and the wavers in your heart are shaking the needles of your moral compass. When did the road forward vanish into seas of sand and leave you stranded in the junction of decisions? The warehouse comes into sight and the vehicles stop.

Graves give his whole speech about taking the base and Alejandro is knocked out first. The men are on edge and Graves gestures for you to move to him.

“Come here, Shadow.”

Soap is surprised and Ghost is gripping his rifle. His eyes are hurt, and they ask you, is this real? You knew he would curse your name for eons to come as you step away from him to stand beside Graves. The look of hurt is replaced by an anger ferocious as the sun in his eyes.

It hurts more than anything in the world.

“Nobody needs to get hurt today. Put down the guns and stay there.”

Your body moves on autopilot and raise the rifle just as the other soldiers do.

“This is what a Shadow should be. Discreet, fast and blending into their environments. And now, we have ourselves a victory.” Graves pats your shoulder. “The honours is all yours.”

---

The celebrations are huge but it’s hollow. Meaningless beyond comparison with your birthday spent with them and the party Soap threw. Drinks are served and shadows congratulate you on the victory.

The cells are quiet and you stop before his cell.

A click using the key easily swiped from Graves’ office and the door unlocks gently. He is fast and your neck is caught in a grip of immense strength. The anger simmering in his eyes are covering the hurt deep down and he knows.

He knows you will let him do whatever he wanted.

“You don’t have a lot of time. There’s a vehicle parked outside idling.”

The door to Soap’s cell unlocks easily and the guard is off on his piss break. An embrace is all you want from him and he looks to Soap. Ignoring you like the stain on his boots.

“I trusted you.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“You never should have.”

They are running down the halls and out of the base through a back door before anyone can notice anything. The vehicle takes off and you put on an act when the base alarm sounds upon the guard’s notice of the missing prisoners.

---

Retirement is a bitch. Graves never did find out how they escaped and the last thing you heard was the man dying in a tank explosion. The latte is sweet in a café in Munich and you reach for the place where a straw is supposed to be.

“Oof, excuse me,” as you bump into someone on the way to the counter.

You look at the person and it’s him. Even without the mask and the heaps of military gear, it’s him.

“Simon.” He reaches his hand out.

He nods at the sound of your name and shakes your hand. Maybe there is a chance to still start over with him. An old cardigan, he puts you on and calls it his favourite in a quiet Thursday in a café in Germany.

---

I knew you would come back to me, as I would to you.

[freddie-77-ao3]

an incomplete list of camp antics that lee fletcher put up with during his time as counselor/camp dad

malcolm. that's it. malcolm as a whole. that boy is so fucked up he's his own bullet point.

the fourth of july where cecil, lou ellen, and will raised the dead, and started a plague (that spread through the ones they'd necromanced)

the christmas where cecil, lou ellen, and will set hermes cabin on fire to win extreme cabin decorating

the four times michael climbed him like a tree so that clarisse couldn't reach him

the pair of wolves connor and malcolm brought home (and camp then adopted)

katie selling weed at camp

katie selling weed to gods

katie selling weed to mortals

travis' addiction to caffeine (10 espresso shots a day, plus a caffeine pill, plus four cups of black tea)

travis' caffeine WITHDRAWAL that one time cecil and lou ellen hid it on april fools day

drew tanaka inventing a gene editing program to make a giant fuzzy catapillar (so that she could ride it into battle)

the three week period that connor insisted on wearing four inch heels and a rainbow pride flag as a dress because sherman used gay as an insult

will trying to kick michael out of the cabin so they could have a cat (and michael's subsequent supportance of the action)

lou ellen experimenting with magic and turning katie into a lion

lou ellen experimenting with magic and permanently changing her hair color (on accident)

the time drew turned in a book report on connor's diary and lee, as the head counselor for winter session, had to read and GRADE it

the time annabeth and percy got into a fist fight over the correct definition of hamburger, and whether percy could play it in scrabble

travis eating katie's lip balm and getting sick

travis eating another tube of katie's lip balm and getting sick (again)

every time michael and jake babysat harley

the time cecil tried to learn the lyre

the time lou ellen and will learned how to break lyres (in 18 different ways)

katie pranking travis by making corn mazes grow around him randomly for two months straight (the amount of corn lee then had to eat was infuriating)

the winter sessions where drew, connor, and malcolm were counselors (and subsequently hijacked every counsel meeting with insane bullshit)

the two month period malcolm and drew became new york vigilantes

the following four month period malcolm and drew convinced connor to become a new york vigilante WITH them

lou ellen and will knowing cecil was in prison for three days before bailing him out (has happened at least four times)

michael lighting clarisse on fire

the possum memes cecil spends hours making on the infirmary computer going viral and chiron questioning lee for an hour and a half on whether lee thinks there's a leak at camp because memes in the mortal world are dangerous apparently?

the time malcolm macheted through a bunch of stacks of paperwork because of connor's typo

the time drew convinced connor eggs weren't real when they were six

the time drew convinced connor eggs weren't real when they were twelve

malcolm got hit by a taco truck and drew proceeded to buy tacos from the same truck

cecil drinking shampoo because tsa told him it wasn't allowed on the plane

cecil drinking shampoo because he liked the taste

cecil getting his stomach pumped because he drank four bottles of shampoo in a day

travis and malcolm getting married in vegas during a mission

cecil drinking glowstick juice

cecil learning that drinking glowstick juice is bad and swallowing a glowstick whole

the time lou ellen, cecil, will, connor, and drew left malcolm in chicago for a week before remembering and malcolm just bought himself an apartment and didn't want to leave???

clovis convincing all the campers that every child of hypnos is narcoleptic and he needs to sleep ALL THE TIME (he does not. some do. clovis isn't one of them)

cecil, will, and lou ellen setting the big house on fire for lee's birthday party. it uh. it wasn't even his birthday.

the month where travis decided that jellybeans had a high enough fruit concentrate that he didn't need to eat any actual fruit or vegetables

connor dubbing a depression corner and making malcolm sit in it when malcolm said things about his childhood (or life in general)

malcolm eating scrambled eggs despite being allergic and breaking out into hives every time

drew drowning malcolm (he lived dw)

malcolm lighting the microwave on fire

drew and malcolm convincing connor to snort smarties with them to see if they had different flavors

lou ellen, cecil, and will burning down three cabins with a flamethrower (to see if they could)

cecil eating dirt (multiple times)

every time malcolm dislocates his joints to prove points. it happens a lot.

the tunnel systems that connor and malcolm found and started living out of (actually lee's not too mad at that one because they found actual rooms and now some of the year round campers have like. bedrooms. underground tunnel bedrooms, but bedrooms nonetheless)

malcolm making a game out of is it asthma or a panic attack

drew making a scoreboard out of malcolm's game is it asthma or a panic attack

cecil making cookies until he was happy. it didn't happen. he made 479 cookies before anyone stopped him.

Austin complaining about how his severe third degree burns from the lava wall meant he couldn't post a youtube video one week

michael doesn't believe in raspberries. nothing lee does convinced him.

malcolm and lou ellen messing around with magic and both getting turned into babies.

babified malcolm almost getting blended because travis didn't know it was the chili dog to be blended, not the kid

will's emo phase where he insists lee sing welcome to the black parade at campfire every night

clarisse thought the tooth fairy stole your teeth. for. a good four years.

connor tried to ask malcolm on a date and just asking ended so badly that athena cabin burned down

michael doesn't think penguins exist

lou ellen, cecil, and will's magic trick that burned percy's eyebrows off for two weeks

instead of making the connection that malcolm has a crush on connor, malcolm thinks connor cursed him???

cecil eats orange peels. he's allergic to oranges.

connor drew and malcolm start several cults in the mortal world. one is about a god of teeth. they have followers.

every time a new camper arrived for a solid two months, drew would say want to hear a gay joke and connor would emerge from a closet (that drew shoved them in)

travis drank vinegar because he didn't want to go get water

travis drank oil because he didn't want to go get water

thalia told someone to not run down the stairs. they jumped out the window instead.

clarisse destroyed 24 ping pong tables while lee was alive. 37 overall.

Miranda bought a parenting book, and then highlighted it and added names according to the issues everyone had

travis used the rim of a gatorade bottle as a monocle for three weeks straight

At camp counsellor meetings, Malcolm sits in Connor’s lap to ‘save space’

cecil tried to teach lou ellen to cook. she blew up three ovens.

[xx3bvvx]

Just some JungRok fluff instead of killing the poor Choi Jung Soo fic because oh man! Can't finish it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Choi Jung Soo slumped over his desk, a mountain of paperwork threatening to bury him alive. He had fallen a week behind on his reports and reviews, and the deadline was looming dangerously close. With a groan, he rubbed his temples and glanced over at Kim Rok Soo, who was diligently working on his tasks.

"Rok Soo-ya," Choi Jung Soo called out weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kim Rok Soo looked up from his paperwork, raising an eyebrow. "What is it, Jung Soo?"

Choi Jung Soo straightened up and clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please, Rok Soo, I need your help. I'm drowning in reports, and I can't catch up on my own."

Kim Rok Soo leaned back in his chair, contemplating the request. "Why should I help you? What's in it for me?"

Choi Jung Soo's eyes widened with desperation. "I'll do anything! Just name it!"

A sly grin spread across Kim Rok Soo's face. "Alright, I'll help you on one condition. You have to pay for my lunch and dinner for the entire week."

Choi Jung Soo's jaw dropped. "A whole week? That's extortion!"

Kim Rok Soo shrugged nonchalantly. "Take it or leave it. I'm not doing all this work for free."

Choi Jung Soo groaned but realized he had no other choice. "Fine, you win. I'll pay for your meals for a week. But you better help me finish all these reports."

"Deal," Kim Rok Soo said, extending his hand.

Choi Jung Soo shook it reluctantly, grumbling under his breath. "You're such a swindler, Rok Soo."

Kim Rok Soo chuckled as he moved over to Choi Jung Soo's desk and started sifting through the paperwork. "It's called knowing my worth. Now, let's get to work."

The two of them worked late into the night, Kim Rok Soo guiding Choi Jung Soo through the maze of reports and reviews. Despite his grumpiness, Choi Jung Soo was grateful for the help. By the time they finished, a significant dent had been made in the paperwork pile.

As they finally packed up to leave, Choi Jung Soo sighed in relief. "Thanks, Rok Soo. I owe you one."

"You owe me lunch and dinner for a week," Kim Rok Soo corrected with a smirk.

Choi Jung Soo rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't get all proud of yourself."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Kim Rok Soo replied, patting Choi Jung Soo on the back. "Come on, let's get some rest. We've got another busy day tomorrow."

With that, the two friends left the office after a tiredful night of paperwork.

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Orc/Male Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,047 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist | Commission for @doomfisthero

You've only just started work at Ink Envy, but the gorgeous orc receptionist has caught your eye. When he asks you to tattoo him, things go even better than you could have imagined.

You arrived at Ink Envy on a brisk morning, the kind where your breath formed clouds in the air, mingling with the faint buzz of the city waking up. The shop front was beautiful with its bold, gothic lettering and windows adorned with intricate flowering designs. Your heart thrummed with nerves; this was the beginning of… well, you’re whole career.

Pushing open the door, the chime above announced your entrance, slicing through the hum of anticipation that filled your chest. The walls were decked in a myriad of designs, from the delicate to the daring. Your eyes, however, were drawn to the figure behind the reception desk.

The receptionist stood there, an imposing presence with his broad shoulders and long, messy black hair. Two enormous tusks jutted from his lower jaw. Yet, it was the warmth in his eyes, a soft, mossy green that truly caught your attention. He looked up from his paperwork, a hint of surprise in his expression before it melted into a welcoming smile.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice deep and resonant, the sort that filled the space and made you feel oddly at home. "You must be the new artist. Andromeda mentioned someone was starting today, but she's not in until the afternoon. I'm Ceth, receptionist and piercer."

A flicker of confusion crossed your mind, realising the slight mix-up, but Ceth's calm demeanor eased your worries. He rounded the desk, his movements surprisingly graceful for his size, and gestured for you to follow him.

"Let me show you to your space," he said, leading you through the parlour, past stations that showcased an array of artistic talent. 

Your station was a cosy nook by a large window, blinds half closed to offer ample natural light that danced across the clean, inviting setup. 

“Need help setting up?” Ceth asked, and his dark eyes sparkled. 

There was a lump in your throat as you stammered to reply, “s-sure, sounds great. Thanks.”

He grinned wide, and it lit up his entire face so beautifully. Your cheeks warmed at the thought. First day, and you were already flushed scarlet?

As Ceth helped you set up your station, though, his calmness soothed your jittering nerves. Every time he passed you something, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a tiny thrill through you. It was surprising, this little spark, but not unwelcome.

He adjusted the lamp for you, making sure the light was just right. "Good lighting's crucial," he said, his deep voice making the words feel more like a promise. “Though I’m no tattoo artist myself.”

The light fell across his face, and showed off off the maze of tattoos that wrapped around his arms and peeked from under his shirt. They were a mix of the old, the kind of designs you'd imagine on ancient orc warriors, and the new, with some twists that felt modern and bold.

Ceth noticed you staring and gave a small, proud smile. "Each one's got its own story," he shared, pointing to a thick band of ink on his arm. "This one's for strength," he explained. It felt intimate, him sharing these bits of his life with you, like he was letting you in on secret chapters of his story.

“And this one?” you asked. In a sudden rush of boldness, you reached out to trace a thick, curving line that vanished around the back of his neck.

Ceth hummed, and the vibration went right through your arm and all the way to your chest in a delightful shiver.

“That one’s for love.”

Your mood dropped. Of course somebody so handsome was already taken.

Maybe he sensed it, too, because his enormous hand skimmed across yours, the warmth of him seeping into you. “I’m not married or anything,” he said gruffly, “it’s more like… the idea of love. Us orcs can be romantic.”

You snorted in disbelief, but his gaze had captured yours.

“Some of us anyway,” Ceth corrected. “Anyway,  do you need a hand with anything else?" 

You swallowed thickly, hating how your whole body tingled with such a simple touch. "Just this last bit," you said, pointing to a tricky piece of equipment and trying not to think about his hand on yours.

With the last piece of equipment finally in place, thanks to Ceth's steady hands, you took a step back to admire your new station. It was more than just a workspace; it felt like a small piece of you, a little piece of Ink Envy that belonged to you.

Just as you were soaking in the moment, the entrance door chimed, heralding Andromeda's arrival. She was a vision, her tall and curvy frame accentuated by a vintage fifties dress that hugged her in all the right places. You weren’t into women, but between her and Ceth’s rippling muscles, it was easy to imagine why they were both so popular. 

The single eye in the middle of her forehead sparkled with a mischievous glint as she stepped into the tattoo room and saw you standing there.

"Making yourself at home, I see," she teased, her voice rich and full of warmth. Her gaze shifted between you and Ceth, a playful smirk curling her lips. "It looks like you've already taken a liking to Ceth. Can't say I blame you; he's one of our best."

You felt a flush of warmth at her words, glancing at Ceth to find a hint of a blush on his cheeks too.

“Come off it Andromeda,” Ceth scolded. There was warmth in his eyes despite his rough voice.

Andromeda, ever the gracious host, didn't dwell on the moment. She clapped her hands together, her single eye gleaming with excitement. "Right, let's give you a quick refresher before we open up. I know we did the grand tour last week, but it never hurts to double-check.”

You smiled. “Sure.” 

“You’re not really an apprentice, just new to Ink Envy, but I’d like you to check in with me at the end of each day for a little bit. Any problems or questions, come right over to me. While you’re waiting on the clients coming in, work on your portfolio a bit, shadow some of the other artists if you want some inspiration."

She whisked you around the parlour, her energy infectious. Despite having seen it all before, her enthusiasm made everything feel new and exciting again. Andromeda's pride in Ink Envy was palpable, from the carefully curated art on the walls to the spotless workstations, each reflecting the unique spirit of the artist who occupied it.

As the tour wrapped up, Andromeda leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You don't have any bookings yet, but the buzz is already building. People are curious about the new talent we've snagged. Give it a bit of time, and you'll be as in-demand as the rest of us."

Her confidence was reassuring. With a final, encouraging pat on your shoulder, she sauntered off to attend to her own preparations, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for what the day might bring.

Ceth, who had been a quiet presence during Andromeda's whirlwind tour, now turned to you with a soft smile. "Looks like you're all set. If you need anything, though, I'm right up front."

There was something in the way he said it that made you believe he truly meant it. It wasn't just about being colleagues; there was a genuine offer of support there, a foundation for something more.

As the first customers began to trickle in, curiosity alight in their eyes as they glanced your way, you felt a surge of gratitude for the warm welcome you'd received. Ink Envy was more than just a tattoo parlour; it was a community, a family of sorts, and you were starting to feel like you belonged.

As the day unfolded, Ink Envy became a hive of activity, the air thick with the buzz of machines and the murmur of voices. Customers filtered in and out, their eyes bright with the anticipation of new ink. You found yourself swept up in the energy, fielding inquiries with a growing confidence that surprised even you. By midday, you had your first two bookings—a collection of small, intricate designs and a sprawling back piece.

In the lulls between consultations, you sketched up ideas, your mind whirring with creativity. The vibrant, geometric patterns flowed from your pen, and you wondered if you could ask to put a piece of your own on the wall. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't notice Ceth approach until he was right beside you.

"That's quite something," he remarked, his voice tinged with intrigue as he peered over your shoulder at the designs spread out before you. His proximity sent a subtle shiver down your spine, the warmth of him so close - but never quite touching.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "It's a bit different from the usual stuff here."

Ceth hummed in agreement, his gaze still fixed on your sketches. "It's nothing like any of my tattoos, but... I like it. A lot, actually." There was a pause, a moment charged with something unspoken before he added, "Would you design one for me? Something in your style?"

The request took you aback, a mix of honour and excitement bubbling up inside you. "I'd love to, Ceth. Do you have anything in mind?"

His response was a thoughtful look, his eyes scanning the sketches before settling back on you. "I trust your vision. Maybe something in blue."

The thought of leaving your mark on him, in the form of a tattoo, felt intimate, a tangible sign of the attraction that had been simmering between you all day.

"You sure you're ready for something this bold?" you teased, gesturing to the most vibrant of your sketches.

Ceth's reply was a grin, his confidence unwavering. "I think I can handle it. Besides, it's not every day I find an artist who can make me see colours quite like you do."

Despite his usually reserved nature, Ceth seemed to find comfort in your presence, allowing his words to carry a lighter, more teasing edge. "You know," he mused, leaning casually against the edge of your station, "I never took myself for someone who'd go for something so... vivid. There's a first time for everything, especially when the artist has such... compelling persuasion."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily lost for words. The way he held your gaze, a soft challenge in his eyes, made your heart skip a beat. Yet, before you could muster a response, he was called away to the reception desk, his duty pulling him back to the front of the shop.

You found yourself watching him as he moved, the ease with which he interacted with clients and managed the bustling front desk a testament to his skill and dedication. Even from a distance, you could see the way his presence put people at ease, his quiet confidence a steady anchor in the lively environment of the parlour.

As the last rays of sunlight faded, marking the end of your first day, you turned your attention back to the design you'd been sketching for Ceth. The lines flowed freely, inspired by the interplay of light and shadow, and the vibrant, geometric patterns took on a life of their own under your pen.

When Ceth returned, his shift at the reception desk over, you presented the design with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. His reaction, however, was nothing short of admiring, his praise genuine and effusive. "This is incredible," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to colour his words with a deeper meaning. "I can't believe you came up with something this perfect so quickly."

Those words sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the flattery leaving you flustered yet elated. The connection between you, already sparking with potential, seemed to deepen in that moment, the shared excitement over the design a bridge between your worlds.

"We should set a date for this," Ceth suggested, his gaze lingering on the sketch before meeting yours again. "I can't wait to see this come to life."

The realisation that Ceth would be your first client brought with it a surge of both pride and nerves. To mark his skin with your art, to leave a piece of yourself with him, felt like an intimate exchange, one that transcended the usual artist-client relationship.

As you agreed on a date, the significance of the moment wasn't lost on you. The third of February - Ceth would be your first proper client.

***

Over the next few days, the rhythm of life at Ink Envy became more familiar, and you settled into routine. Clients came and went, and the designs you had to prepare began stacking up. Your portfolio of sketches grew, vibrant geometric patterns mingling with the softer, more organic designs requested by your clients.

Yet despite how busy you were, your thoughts often drifted to Ceth. You'd catch glimpses of him throughout the day, his presence a constant in the back of your mind. Whether he was greeting clients with his quiet confidence or organising the front desk, you found your gaze lingering a moment too long, a distraction that was both welcome and unnerving.

His laughter, rare but rich, would send a warmth cascading through you, and the briefest touch—a brush of hands as you passed him a pen or the momentary press of shoulders as you navigated the busy space—left a lingering heat on your skin.

Finally, the day arrived for Ceth's tattoo, a day that had been marked on your calendar since the first day. As you prepared your station, the usual calm that accompanied your routine was tinged with an electric charge, the air around you thick with the weight of the moment.

When Ceth approached, you smiled. “Come on over,” you chirped, “I’ve got the stencil ready and everything is good to go.”

Ceth’s smile brought a familiar flicker rising inside of you. He sat down heavily, broad body making the chair creak.

You grinned, holding out the stencil. “You’ll, uh, need to remove your shirt. We decided on the ribs, right?”

“Mm,” Ceth hummed. “It’s one of the few spots I still haven’t been inked yet.”

You took a moment to mentally prepare yourself, focusing on the stencil in your gloved hand instead of the way Ceth’s massive body shifted, so close your knees almost touched. “All right,” you said finally, “take it off, then.”

The moment Ceth removed his shirt to allow for the stencil application, the air in the room seemed to shift. The expanse of his skin, already marked with dozens of sprawling tattoos, now laid bare before you, sent a flush of heat to your cheeks. The sight of him stirred something deep within you, a flicker of something you couldn’t place.

Carefully, you positioned the stencil, your fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin. Ceth's steady breathing, the rise and fall of his bare torso beneath your hands, was a grounding rhythm in the charged silence of the room.

The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the space between you and Ceth. As you began, the needle dancing across the stencil, Ceth's composure remained unflinching. It was impressive, really, how he stayed so stoic.

"Doesn't that hurt?" you ventured, breaking the silence, your focus unwavering from the task at hand. You thought of your own multiple tattoos, years and years of work, and how even you had flinched once or twice in the past.

Ceth chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the room. "I've had worse scrapes from a day in the garden," he quipped, his tone light. "Your hand is steady. It's comforting, in a way."

“You garden?” you asked without thinking. 

When you paused to glance up at Ceth, he was smiling amiably. “Sure, sometimes. I’m no landscaper, but I’m good with a shovel and a watering can.”

It was easy to picture him, massive shoulders straining a tight t-shirt, dusted with dirt as he worked the garden. Or did he work without any shirt on at all? You had to steady your hand at the thought, suddenly flustered.

Thankfully, Ceth broke through your thoughts before you could embarrass yourself. "So, do all your clients get this level of service, or am I just special?" he teased, a hint of a smile in his voice, even as he remained perfectly still under your hand.

"You might just be topping the charts," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The hours slipped by, marked not by the clock but by the progress of ink on skin, the design coming to life with each stroke. Ceth's resilience was impressive; he hardly seemed to notice the discomfort, his attention instead caught up in the exchange between you.

Yet, as the tattoo neared completion, the air between you grew charged. You had to lean right over him to finish the last dots of colour, free hand pulling the thick muscles taught. The proximity, the intimate touch necessary for the art, seemed to amplify everything and it left you sweating nervously.

Finally, you reached a natural pause, the majority of the design laid down in bold, vibrant lines against Ceth's skin. You found yourself hesitating, staring at the tattoo to avoid meeting his gaze.

"Maybe we should take a break," you suggested, your voice steadier than you felt. The words were an excuse, a chance to step back and breathe, to regain some semblance of control over the racing of your heart.

Ceth agreed, a knowing look in his eyes as he rose from the chair. The break was necessary, a brief respite from… whatever was going on between you.

As you stepped away to gather your thoughts, the reality of it all finally settled in.

Taking a moment for yourself, you stepped into the back room, the cool air a sharp contrast to the warmth of the tattoo room. The buzz of the tattoo machines faded into a distant hum, allowing you a moment of quiet to collect your thoughts.

When you returned, something in the air had shifted. Ceth was waiting, his usual composed self, yet there was a tension in his posture, a hesitancy that you hadn't seen before. His eyes met yours, and there was something there, a warmth, that made your stomach flip.

The room seemed to grow smaller around you. The gentle hum of the place faded into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

Ceth broke the silence, his voice low, each word measured. "There's something I need to say," he began, the words hanging between you, heavy.

The anticipation was a tangible thing, a thread pulled taut, ready to snap. You found yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to continue, the air between you thick with the unsaid.

Words failed him, and in a moment that seemed to suspend time, Ceth stepped closer. The space between you evaporated, and with a gentle certainty, he kissed you.

You felt a rush of warmth and softness as his lips crushed yours. The world tilted slightly, and in that instant, everything else fell away, leaving only the sensation of his insistent lips on yours, the sweet musk of his cologne, the tickle of his tusks as Ceth drew you ever closer.

Your initial shock melted into the kiss, a soft sigh escaping you as you leaned into the moment, head whirling. Ceth's hands found their way to your waist, grounding you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, the world outside the embrace fading to a distant murmur.

When you finally parted, the world came rushing back, the sounds of the parlour returning to fill the silence. You flushed, remembering that there was only a thin curtain between you and the rest of the shop. 

In the aftermath of the kiss, a silence enveloped the room. Not awkward, but heavy with the significance of… everything. Ceth was the first to break it, his voice softer than usua;. "I don't usually do things like this," he confessed, his gaze locked with yours, searching, as if trying to gauge your reaction.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, fear prickled at the edges of your mind, the worry that maybe this moment, this connection, was something he regretted.

Then Ceth continued, his voice firmer, laced with a conviction that chased away any doubts. "Kissing you? That might just be the best decision I've ever made."

The honesty in his words, the open admission, brought a warmth that flooded through you, chasing away the last remnants of uncertainty. 

"I asked for the tattoo because I wanted to get closer to you," he admitted, a shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth.. "Seems like it worked better than I hoped."

The confession drew a laugh from you, a sound of pure joy that filled the room. 

Leaning in, Ceth captured your lips in another kiss, this one softer, his tusks barely brushing across your lips, feather-light. Even that was enough to make you sigh, melting against him.

As you pulled away, the reality of the situation settled back in, the reminder of the unfinished tattoo rushing back to you. 

"We should probably finish the tattoo," you murmured. “tt's not good to leave it exposed for too long."

Ceth's chuckle was warm, his gaze softening with affection. "Your concern is sweet," he said, his hand reaching out to gently brush against yours.. "Let's finish it then. Maybe after, we could go for dinner?”

The invitation was unexpected but immensely welcome, stirring a flurry of excitement within you. "I'd like that," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of eagerness you couldn't quite mask. The prospect of spending more time with Ceth, outside the walls of Ink Envy, made you shiver in anticipation.

As you slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and prepared to resume your work, the atmosphere between you shifted. There was a lightness now, a sense of openness that hadn't been there before. Despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach, your hands remained steady.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Ceth said, a note of wonder in his voice that mirrored your own feelings. "Can’t say I’ve ever gotten myself a date this way before."

"It's not the most conventional start, I'll give you that," you admitted, the needle buzzing as you resumed your work. The lines flowed smoothly, the design coming to life under your careful touch. "I'm not complaining."

"Neither am I," Ceth replied, his voice steady despite the sensation of the tattoo.

As you worked, your mind buzzed. The excitement of seeing the tattoo completed, of witnessing your art permanently etched onto Ceth's skin, was thrilling. Yet, it was the anticipation of dinner that really had you on edge.

"Any preferences for dinner?" you asked, glancing up to meet his dark gaze.

Ceth considered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Surprise me. You seem to be good at that."

You hummed in agreement, smiling to yourself.

It wasn’t long before you were finishing up, thoughts of dinner still on your mind. As the final lines of the tattoo were laid down, a sense of accomplishment washed over you. It was beautiful - a splash of colour amongst Ceth’s otherwise heavy, black tattoos.

"There," you announced, a smile tugging at your lips as you wiped away the last of the ink. "All done."

Ceth rose, examining the tattoo with a mix of admiration and awe. "It's perfect," he said, and there was something wistful in his voice.

Ceth barely gave you time to wrap the tattoo before his hand found yours, an electric spark running through you at the touch. He pulled you gently into an embrace, his strength enveloping you in a comfort that felt like coming home. ns.

Breaking away, he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Dinner's just the beginning, you know. I've got plans for dessert."

His tone sent a shiver down your spine. How could you say no to that?

[the-interidiot]

Eddie Chiplucky + Charles Coven headcanon that’s bounced in my brain like a marble for two days

[not a ship headcanon]

Despite how they’re often depicted in fandom, Charles is actually the much more moral of the two business. Charles is DEFINITELY in control of Eddie, but Eddie is more willing to cause or overlook harm for money.

Eddie wants money from the rink, and he doesn’t care if those kids die for it - as long as he doesn’t need paperwork. He genuinely only cares that Otho doesn’t kill his victims because he can’t get sued.

Charles only cares Otho doesn’t kill his victims for piece of mind. No kid has ever ‘really’ died in a match, and as much as he won’t admit it, the times it got close he was panicked. But he can’t interfere, what would the audience think?

If Otho ever ‘killed’ a kid, Charles would blow his head off. He cared about the guards dying, but not as much. The guards were hired to be near Otho, they knew the risk of being near that thing. Keep in mind this is NOT to call Charles moral. He was willing to kidnap Lex and Hannah to fight for him, but he had a whole maze of moral excuses to use. They would eventually run out of money and come back anyway, he could give them something so much better if they stayed at the rink. They would learn to like it.

Eddie wouldn’t offer that. Hannah and Lex can get stuff when they win, but failing a match means a sudden lack of all the good things he’s given or promised.

TLDR: I enjoy the dynamic shift that I dont see often the Charles is the more moral one, and Eddie is the one willing to get a little nasty with his contestants.

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 30: By Candlelight

Geode pushes themself a little too hard; thankfully their partner Swiss knows exactly where to find them.

Thanks so much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together and to @ghuleh-recs for making us the dividers <3

So, to preface this, I decided to pull out the oc I wrote for day 30 last year, because this is my birthday present to myself, and we do a little oc x canon here, as a treat. Fair warning, this one got long.

The archives are the quietest parts of the Abbey, nestled deep in the library. It's often a peaceful respite from the hustle and bustle of regular Abbey life, but not today. The yearly inventory is due soon, and it feels like there are countless registers to update, reports to fill out. Geode's bent over their desk, filling out what feels like the thousandth piece of paperwork. They love their job in the library, just not right now.

The light in here is dim; one high, narrow window letting in a little bit of late afternoon sun, and one candle that's on the far corner of the desk, pushed away far enough from the excessive amount of paperwork that they feel safe lighting it without risking it all going up in flames. The room smells like old paper, the candle tinging it slightly sweeter, apples and spices, and the warm air makes their eyes heavy. Their back aches, poor posture taking its toll on their short frame. They take a moment to shut their eyes, resting their elbows on their desk, head in their hands.

There's a knock on the doorframe, and Geode jolts upright, eyes wide. It's incredibly rare for them to get a visitor down here, and if they do, it's usually Imperator.

"Sister, I can expl-" They stammer, trailing off as they see who's at their door. Their entire frame relaxes as Swiss steps into their little "office." "Hi."

He smiles, easy and warm, and Geode slumps back in their chair as he comes up to their desk. "Hey, babydoll."

"I don't think I've ever seen you down here," Geode says, reaching under their glasses to rub their eyes. "I mean, I don't blame you, it's a labyrinth at best. What can I do for you?"

The smile doesn't leave Swiss's face, but he sighs heavily through his nose. Geode sits up straighter as he props himself up on their desk. "Feels like I haven't seen you in days, sweetheart," he says, hands curled around the edge of Geode's desk as he leans back, mussing up their already disorganized piles of paper. "Have you eaten today?"

The earth ghoul sighs, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. "I've got to get these reports for Imperator finished or she'll have my other horn," they say, not quite answering. They glance up at him and take a deep breath, squaring their shoulders as they face the mess of paper and ink on their desk.

"I know," he hums softly, reaching out to run a finger over the jagged edge of their broken horn, tucking back a strand of grey-white hair that had slipped out from their braid, pinned up tight at the nape of their neck. "At least let me make you something nice for dinner, Geo," he says, and their eyes meet his, grey on gold. "I don't want you running on fumes."

"You're too nice to me," They laugh halfheartedly, leaning into his hand for just a moment before straightening. "It's a date," they say, smiling up at him. "Let me get a couple more things inventoried and I'll be there."

"I could never be too nice to you." He smiles, his teeth glinting in the low light. "Do you wanna meet me in the band ghoul commons, or do you want me to meet you here? I'm not picky."

"I'll meet you there, no need to make the trek down here again," they joke, fiddling with the pen in their hands. "I'm serious, it's a fucking maze."

He laughs, almost melodic like the bells in the main chapel, and they smile for real at the sound. "Alright then. Meet me in the band commons in, hmm, an hour?"

"You've got a deal," They say, his smile contagious. "Thank you."

Swiss's gaze softens and he cups their cheek. "Of course, babydoll."

Geode leans into his touch for a moment, lets themself shut their eyes for just a second before straightening. "I'll see you in an hour."

"I'll see you in an hour." He smiles, one last kiss to their temple before he steps out of their little office, and Geode turns back to their paperwork with a sigh.

They don't know how much time passes. The letters are all starting to blur, and no amount of focusing their eyes through their glasses is helping. The room is warm and their head hurts and their back aches and they have time, and they rest their head on their arms. They can shut their eyes for just a moment...

The next thing Geode knows is a gentle weight at the small of their back, something hard and sharp at their temple. "Babydoll?"

Geode jolts upright, gasping in a breath as they snap to awareness. The candle's burnt down to a puddle of wax in its holder, and the sky out the tiny window is dark. Swiss stands next to them, his big hand rubbing their back gently, eyes almost glowing molten gold in the dim light. "Hey, sweetheart," he hums, hand not slowing its motions. "Have a good nap?"

They frantically fix their glasses from where the frame had been digging into their forehead, a violet blush starting to spread across their grey cheeks. "It's been more than an hour, hasn't it," they breathe, unable to make eye contact with him.

"A little longer than that, yeah," he says with the same low tone. "Got a little worried when you didn't show, but this was the first place I checked."

"'M'sorry," they whisper, shutting their eyes and focusing on his hand on their back, melting into the gentle touch.

"Don't be sorry, Geo," he says, leaning in to nose at their hair. "I know how much you've been working. Besides, you looked real cute when you were asleep."

They take a deep, shuddering breath through their nose, soaking in the cinnamon warmth of his scent. "Quit teasin' me," Geode mumbles, even as they lean over to tuck their face into the crook of his neck.

"Oh, this is nothing, babydoll," He croons softly in their ear. "I had one other surprise planned for after you ate, but if you just want to go to bed, that's no sweat off of my back."

Geode chirps curiously, pulling back from his neck to look at him. "What were you planning?"

He laughs, leaning back and offering them his hand. "Would it be a surprise if I told you?"

"Fair," they snort, letting him help them to their feet. He leads them out of the archives, their hand locked in his, a comfortable silence coming over the two of them. Geode takes a deep breath, leaning close enough to rest their head on his shoulder, tail swaying until the spade taps against his. "Out of curiosity," they hum. "What'd you make for dinner? Or is that a surprise too?"

Swiss lets go of their hand, wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pulling them even closer against his side. "Made those sandwiches you really like, the ones with prosciutto and balsamic? And the strawberry spinach salad. Mount brought them in fresh when he was taking care of the greenhouse this morning."

"Lucifer, I fucking love you," Geode blurts out, their stomach growling and cheeks darkening. Swiss laughs, melodic and echoing like bells in the empty hallway.

"Love you too, gemstone."

He takes them past the door to the Abbey ghoul dens, leading them farther down the halls until he reaches another set of doors. "Sorry, babydoll, need my hand for a second," he laughs softly, taking his arm off from around their shoulders to fish a key out of his back pocket.

Geode sways on their feet as he unlocks the door, leading them into the band pack's den. It's oddly quiet, and Geode can't help themself but look around for the other members of Swiss's pack. No one's in the common room, which, every time Geode's been in here, there's been at least one of the band ghouls lounging about. They don't have much time to think about it before Swiss is leading them to the kitchen, two places set at the table. He pulls out one of the chairs for them, a big hand at the small of their back as they sit down.

"Thank you for doing this for me," they whisper, staring at their plate of food. Swiss looks them in the eye, a dead serious expression on his face.

"Don't thank me, Geo," he says. "You do so much for me and the Abbey, this is literally the least I could do."

They smile a little, and his serious demeanor crumbles, revealing the grin they know and love.

Once the two of them finish dinner, Geode moves to clear the table. Swiss tries to stop them and do it himself, but they level him with a lighthearted glare. "You cooked, let me at least put the dishes in the sink," they say. "I'm tired, not dead."

He raises an eyebrow curiously. "Are you too tired for the surprise? It's fine if you are, it can wait."

Geode turns, looking at him over their shoulder as they rinse the leftover vinaigrette from the salad bowls. "Depends. Is it a surprise like, 'let's have a chase out in the woods' like we did last autumn?"

Swiss laughs, standing and sidling up behind them, a hand gentle on their upper arm as he ducks down to rub his cheek against their unbroken horn. "No, Geo, it's not a hunt, as much fun as that was."

Their cheeks darken at the memory, leaning back against his chest, feeling his voice rumbling through his body. "Something quieter then?"

"Much quieter," he affirms. "It's in my room. You ready?"

They finish up, stacking the dishes neatly in the bottom of the sink. "Yeah."

He takes their hand in his again as they step out of the kitchen, fingers interlaced. Geode's been to Swiss's room before, spends more time there than they do in their own shared quarters, they know how to get there, but they let Swiss lead them. The exhaustion's starting to sink in, feet heavy against the tile floor.

They come to Swiss's door, and he murmurs an apology as he lets go of their hand again to find his keys. The door gets unlocked, and he holds it open, gesturing dramatically for them to enter. Geode laughs, nudging his shoulder as they step into his room.

Geode looks for the surprise Swiss said he had in here, but everything is the same as it was the last time they were in his room. A string of purple lights over his double bed, his records sorted alphabetically by artist and then chronologically, his guitar mounted over his desk. Nothing's changed, nothing's here.

They turn to Swiss, mouth open to ask, when he puts his big hand on their shoulder, guiding them to look to his adjoining bathroom. The door's open, lights already on. Geode steps into the bathroom, Swiss right behind them. He slinks around them, reaching to the candles on the vanity, running his fingertips over the wicks in a facsimile of a caress, using his fire to light them.

"You didn't," Geode breathes. "Swiss." They stare at the full bathtub, steam curling off the water that smells sweet and floral.

"I did," he shrugs, reaching for the dimmer on the lightswitch. The room darkens some, the low light much easier on both of their eyes. "You need to take some time and relax, I know how ragged you're running yourself, gemstone. Will you let me help you?"

They take a shaky breath in, feeling their eyes getting misty as the glance between him and his bathtub. "Swiss," they breathe again. He looks up, concern written in the furrow of his brow.

"Baby, you can say no," he says, stepping softly in front of them and resting his hands on their tense shoulders. "I'm not going to be mad if you do. Just want to take care of you."

"That's kind of the thing," Geode says, not looking at him, watching the candles flicker over his shoulder. "Nobody's ever- Not since I was a little kit."

His hands slowly sweep up the back of their neck, deft fingers finding the pins that keep their braid pinned tight to their head. "I'd be more than happy to. All you've gotta do is say the word."

Their shoulders slump, pressing their forehead to his collarbone. "Please?" they whisper, taking a deep breath as he ducks down, kissing the crown of their head.

"Of course," he murmurs. "Turn around for me?"

They turn, fingers clumsily unbuttoning their uniform shirt. He pulls the pins from their hair, gently unweaving the braid they had put their hair up into that morning. They keen softly, the tension pulling at their scalp finally easing.

"Yeah, that better?" he hums, watching their ear flick against the side of their head as he cards his fingers through their hair, untangling the grey-white waves.

"Much," they sigh, shrugging their shirt off of their shoulders and tossing it into his laundry basket. They regrettably extricate themself from Swiss's arms to wrangle their binder over their head, exhaling in relief before setting their glasses on the bathroom counter. Geode undresses methodically and steps into the bath. The water's perfectly hot, and they sink into it with a groan, eyes fluttering shut.

Swiss suddenly gets a little bashful, tail flicking behind him. "You, uh, I can go, give you a little privacy, if you want."

"No!" Geode sits up frantically, water sloshing against the sides of the tub, their eyes wide. Both ghouls freeze, staring at each other before bursting into tired giggles. "I mean," they say, clearing their throat after a while. "Please don't go. I've been alone in that office all week."

He doesn't say anything, just nods. The tub's too small for the both of them to fit, but Swiss sits at the far end, watching with a stupidly fond smile on his face, one knee drawn up to his chest, resting his arm on the lip of the tub. Geode blinks over at him, their tail lazily wrapping around his wrist.

The two of them sit in a content silence, the candles on the vanity counter flickering, casting long shadows along the bathroom. The water is warm, and sweet smelling, and he's rubbing his thumb against the spade of their tail, tension draining from their body.

Geode blinks slowly, their eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Their chin hits the surface of the water as they nod off, and both ghouls startle awake at the loud splash. Swiss's eyes go wide, and he scrambles to his knees.

"Alright, no drowning in my bathtub, that is very much not relaxing," he says, laughing a little nervously.

"Shit, sorry," Geode says, pushing strands of wet hair from their face. They bite their lip, cheeks dimpling as they laugh with him. "You got me too relaxed, fell asleep again."

"Don't apologize," he hums, eyes crinkled. "You want your hair washed?"

Geode shakes their head. "I washed it this morning," they explain, "Besides, if you washed my hair I'd just drift off again and get dunked."

He laughs, reaching into the tub and pulling the stopper. "Wouldn't let that happen, gem," he says as the water drains, helping them to their feet.

"Hooray, chivalry isn't dead!" Geode teases, letting him dry their hair with a soft towel, wrapping it around their shoulders as they step out of the tub.

"The things I do for you, gemstone," Swiss grumbles, but the crinkling by his eyes tells a completely different story. He leads them back to their bedroom, and they slyly steal a hair tie from the top of his dresser as he shrugs off his own shirt, changing into sweats and grabbing a change of clothes for them.

Geode takes the clothes, a pair of clean boxers they had left in his room and an oversized shirt, chirping softly in thanks as they get dressed. He eagerly takes the towel from them, tossing it back into the bathroom hamper and blowing out the candles.

He steps back, a warm smile growing on his face as he looks over at his bed; Geode's curled up over the comforter, the crystal growth in their broken horn catching and scattering the light from the string lights above them. "Quit lookin' at me like that. Better place to sleep than the bath or my desk," they mumble, blinking slowly up at him as he pulls the comforter and top sheet out from under them.

"Lookin' at you like what?" Swiss hums, laying down next to them. Like they're magnets, Geode drifts closer until they're resting their head on his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily underneath their ear.

"Like, fuck, I dunno," they mumble softly, eyes flickering shut. "Like you love me or something."

Swiss laughs softly, rumbling through his chest, and he ducks down to kiss their forehead. "Yeah, like I love you."

[lunarvampz]

In Bloom (Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count. 6038. this is a big one.

Chapter 4 Hawthorn

The last week was utter chaos trying to get the final things in place for the annual harvest festival: preparing booths, organising equipment, and figuring out who was running what. Much to your dismay, you had been stationed on the corn maze with someone else, fishing out the kids who would undoubtedly get lost.

The afternoon breeze was too nippy for your liking, but the physical exertion of hoisting pumpkins into crates counteracted the chill. Your father had asked you to round up the last of the supplies and load the wagon so he could take them to the stalls in town. He, very conveniently, had ‘too much paperwork’ and couldn’t do it himself.

You loaded the last of the pumpkins before going back inside, calling out to your father that you had finished. Moments later, you heard the familiar thuds against the stairs and the opening and shutting of the door. Not even a thank you.

Besides helping out and doing chores, you hadn’t been allowed to leave the house unless instructed, which wasn’t that different from the rest of the time. Mother had callously warned you about trying to ‘show off’ your bruises to attract attention and risk you ruining her pristine reputation and pulled you into her bedroom to cover the marks she had left to the best of her abilities before you even thought about stepping foot out of the front door, including today.

——————————

The best way you could describe the makeup was clownish at best. Sighing, you turned on the tap and splashed the water on your face, washing away the pinkish liquid she had covered it in. Wincing slightly, you gently dried your skin and examined the yellow and green clouds of pigment that stained your cheeks and the almost-healed split on your lower lip; it was less noticeable today.

You were called to dinner, ate, blocked out the conversation and then slinked back to your room, not wanting to provoke your parents into banning you from the festival tomorrow altogether.

The outfit your mother had laid out on your chair stared at you obnoxiously. A pear-coloured taffeta dress, ruffly and laced, with cream gloves and a matching coat, all topped off with the dreaded corset she liked to force you in and tighten so you could barely breathe. After all, appearances matter. 

Sitting on the pile of clothes was a hat with a lace trim that went with the dress, and all you could think about was how you were supposed to pull kids out of a corn maze in that outfit. It made sense because the church was running it, and you’d be standing up on stage with the rest of your family in front of the whole town.

Deciding not to nitpick the details, you rolled over to face the wall and pulled the covers over your shoulder, too tired to care about what was to come the next day.

——————————

Warm. Warm? Cold? Cold! Jolting awake to the sudden change in temperature, your eyes shot open to see your mother standing over you, holding your duvet and practically pulling you out of bed.

“Up! Up! Now! We have things to do!”, You groaned and caught the edge of your bed before she could drag you onto the floor, looking over at the clock. 8:17 am.

“Alright! I’m getting up. Just give me a second.”

She let go of your legs and hurried downstairs, presumably to start baking her ‘famous’ blackberry tartlets. 

The wooden floors were cold and hard against your feet, and the draft coming through your window ran up your back, nipping at your neck. Your body began to ache just thinking about all the things you had to do today and, on top of all that, dealing with screaming children. You’d rather eat a pound of salt.

The clanging in the kitchen grew louder with each stride you took, and when you turned the corner, you saw your mother elbow-deep in pastry dough, rolling, shaping and baking it into perfect little cups that filled the countertops. She looked like she had been baking for hours already. However, she still roped you into the kitchen and stationed you in front of a bowl and a gigantic pile of blackberries.

——————————

No matter how hard you scrubbed your hands and fingers, the indigo stains didn't budge; you had washed your hands four times. You became frustrated and decided just to leave it, and you had to be ready in an hour and “Heaven forbid” we were late. Much to your protest, your mother had bound you into the corset so tightly that you felt as if you were going to burst with one too many sharp movements and she asked you to do the same for her, as always. It astonished you how she kept telling you to pull tighter and tighter, to the point where you thought you’d snap her in half.

You dressed in the rest of your outfit and tucked away any loose hairs that fell astray. Pulling a few flowers from the vase on your vanity, you slipped them into the ribbon on your hat and took a deep breath. The image in the mirror was so far from what you usually looked, and it warped your mind; the enhancement of your figure and whatever powders and liquids your mother had caked on your face made you look like the pinnacle of high-class refinement and innocence. 

It had turned out that word of your overnight stay with an older man in the middle of town had crept through the cracks of the alleys and made its way subtly through the hushed corners of town, so your presentation today had been fabricated meticulously by your parents to ensure your best behaviour.

“We’re leaving in twenty minutes, no more, no less!’

Your mother shouted from the bannister, echoing throughout the top floor.

Shaking the nervousness, you sat at your vanity and fixed some of the makeup. She tried, but your skin was much softer and had far fewer wrinkles.

You knew it was time to leave when you heard the coach roll onto the front grass. Your father only called this for events, and it was just as awkward and confining as packing a bear and a snake into a pet cage.

——————————

Each time you rode in that godforsaken carriage was worse than the last. Smushed against the door was your fate because your sister needed space for her ‘friends’. Her plush toys, that was. 

You bunched the fabric of your dress in your hands and pushed yourself out of the door, taking in the bustling noise of something other than maids or dishes or your mother’s consistent blithering. It brought you a sense of calm… almost.

It wasn’t long until you were dragged by the wrist and ushered behind the stage curtains whilst Mayor Baker welcomed guests. Your mother gestured to the corners of her lips, smiling in a way that was so obviously fake and surface level that it was closer to pain than actual content; though you had grown closely familiar with it, you understood why the town couldn’t tell.

Following your mother and father out from the curtain with your little sister tailing you, you took in everyone’s faces, and your eyes landed on someone familiar. Like that, you felt every nerve tense and every hair stand on end. That face. That fucking face. That sense of freedom you felt swiftly exited faster than it could enter, and your smile faltered; the burning sensation sat in your sinuses, and everything around you became foggy and disoriented.

The clouded rays that were once soothing your skin and embraced you against the cold now blinded you, the winds that flowed over gently now lashed harshly at your skin and the noise you were so grateful for turned into your heartbeat, overtaking your eardrums and it was tormenting.

You felt your mother elbow you and hastily pull you off stage with the rest of your family, who had already taken a few steps before turning to your father and taking his arm to set off to their designated booth. You stumbled a little before regaining some sort of awareness, and you watched as your sister ran off with the other young church kids.

It felt like your heart would jump out of your throat, and your tightly woven corset only accentuated the pressure on your lungs.

You thought he left town for good.

——————————

Clawing at the fabric on your back with haste, you only managed to unhook a few notches while your uncontrollable sobs turned to something more like panic-stricken gasps. If only your mother had not insisted on the laces being so tight.

The gloves you wore had been strewn onto the grass, and the coat you had practically torn off lay under you, pressed into the grass by your knees and the tips of your shoes. Each breath you took was shallow and choked, and you felt like you were losing yourself and any focus you had was directed at being able to breathe.

You had run off to the outside of the corn maze, just far enough away from everyone to where they couldn’t hear your pained cries, or so you thought.

Faint footsteps turned to hurried strides that grew louder by the second, along with indistinct shouts that sounded quiet compared to the breaths that blocked your ears. Your fingers kept getting caught between the hooks, and they started hurting. You felt the world closing in and your vision narrow as you tried to get the last hook undone.

The footsteps stopped behind you, and a pair of hands shooed yours away, quickly undid the latch and asked you what was going on repeatedly, unaware of you being asphyxiated.

You squeaked out a few words using whatever air you left in you.

“Corset… Tight.” 

The hands yanked the bow, loosened the laces, and pulled it apart in a matter of seconds. 

Oh my god.

Nothing felt better than actually being able to breathe. You groaned in relief, collapsing onto your elbows and heaving and coughing as your head hung down, causing your hat to fall off. The coat underneath you had cushioned your thud as you rolled onto your back, and the soft grass tickled your feet.

A laugh escaped your lips briefly while you held your face in your hands; it was almost comical the way that that was so close to being the death of you… Then it all hit again like a wave crashing down on you, and you started sobbing again. It wasn’t till you finished rubbing your eyes that you realised the mystery person was probably still standing there. 

You quickly wiped your eyes only to open them to a tall, well-dressed cowboy. Oh. My god. The laughter came on again as it mixed with the sniffles, and you sat up, dusting yourself off and massaging your ribcage. Sucking your teeth, you spoke.

“Nice to see you.”

He chuckled and bent down to pick up your gloves.

“Always lovely to see you, Miss.”

There was a brief pause where you soaked in the awkwardness of the situation and fiddled with a bit of grass in your fingers. The leaves from the trees rustled in the wind, filling the void.

You cleared your throat.

“Thank you for the help back there. That was… Yeah.”

Arthur stood back up with gloves in one hand and extending the other. You took it, and he pulled you up gently. You smiled at him but were met with a look of solicitude; confused, you asked what was wrong.

“Yer’ face. What the hell happened?”

Frozen in place, you realised your makeup must have run off with the tears and debated on telling the truth or not. You didn’t know if he’d tell anyone.

“My mother's gift to me after my hotel ‘rendezvous’. She didn’t break anything this time, at least.”

Arthur’s face was one of pure shock, mouth slightly agape, and he seemed to try to process what you just said. It was scary how silent he was, the silence being filled by the breeze once again.

“Your MO-”

He calmed himself, stepping towards you and reaching his hand to your chin, tilting your cheek towards him.

“She did this to you? Yer’ own damn mother?”

He shifted to your lip, running his thumb across the split, sighing. Pulling away from you, he shook his head.

“I’m so sorry that happened. Really, I didn’t mean for you to get that drunk.”

You picked up your hat and coat and shrugged; you didn't want him to feel bad since he could’ve just left you at the saloon, and who knows what might’ve happened to you if he did. Realising that you’ve been missing from the corn maze for a while, you mentioned having to get back to Arthur.

“The corn maze? That’s where I’m stationed.”

He was your supervisor. 

“I was wondering who I was with… Wait- How?”

How was a question that seemed like it was about to have a very long answer, so instead of waiting to hear what he said, you asked him to help you tie your corset, wanting to get back before someone noticed you were missing. Before he could answer, you had already turned your back to him.

“Miss, I… I don’t know how to…”

Holding the loose laces, you put them in his hands and told him to start from the top and pull tightly, but not too tight. It took him a few seconds to register what you said, but he finally moved towards you after a few seconds.

You moved your hair out of the way and looked over your shoulder to see his face slightly puzzled, and you chuckled before facing forward again.

His hands briefly brushed your spine and made their way to the first cross. He pulled gently, edging the laces tighter until you said stop. He stopped and made his way to the next cross, pulled to the same tightness and stopped again. Slowly but surely, he worked his hands down the rest of the laces, drawing them through the eyelets until he hit the bottom.

“I can’t tie bows…”

Your hands met his, and you took over, finishing up. Arthur shuffled a little closer, hooking the back of your dress, and you swear you heard him mumble another apology; you questioned him, but he said nothing. You turned around to get your gloves off him without realising how close he was. Everything clicked for a moment; for just a split second, you felt this intense sense of… something. It was a feeling that warmed your blood.

Clearing your throat, you grabbed the gloves from his belt and slipped them on, along with your hat and coat. Arthur stood there awkwardly, staring off into nothing whilst playing with the hem of his jeans pocket.

It struck you that the makeup was still smeared with streaks of blushed tint running down your cheeks and smudged lip paint that dragged down your chin. Searching for something to wipe it with, you expressed to Arthur that you couldn’t go into town without covering the marks and then pulled out a small handkerchief and tried your best to wipe away the remnants.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back,  jus’ stay here”

The cowboy had already begun briskly walking away before you could protest, but you were stuck here, so it didn't matter. A few minutes later, he returned with a dark brown-haired woman in tow carrying a toddler playing with a small teddy bear.

“This is my friend Abigail. She’ll fix yer makeup for you.”

The woman gave the little one over to Arthur before reaching into her purse. You watched as Arthur sat down on the grass and played peek-a-boo with the bear whilst the child watched in awe, giggling and clapping.

“Don’t mind my son. His dad was busy.”

She seemed slightly annoyed but continued to rummage for a few seconds before pulling out a small compact, a bottle filled with a wine-coloured liquid and two brushes, one big and one small. 

“So, you’re Miss Hotel. Yeah, I saw y’up on that stage earlier. You’ve got a pretty face. Ain’t that right, Arthur?”

Arthur's head snapped up from the boy with a startled look; he sputtered out a ‘Yeah’ and turned his attention back to the boy. Abigail snickered quietly and started to apply the rosy powder to your cheeks, brushing it over the mark and matching it on the other side; then, she painted the liquid onto your lips, carefully smudging it with her finger.

“Well, I’m all done here. It was lovely to finally meet you.”

Swiftly, she packed away the cosmetics and swept up her son and his toy before wishing Arthur a good day and returning to the fair. You slightly adjusted your clothes while Arthur got up and suggested that you two get going; you agreed.

——————————

Throughout the day, kids and adults alike filtered in and out of the maze, though you hadn’t paid much mind to it. You signed them in and waited ten minutes, and if they hadn’t come back to the front, you went in and guided them back out.

“I think it’s been ten minutes since that couple went through. I better go fish ‘em out. You’ve already done enough today. I’ll take over from here.”

Arthur stood from his chair and entered the maze, disappearing into the husks. The two of you had been talking since you returned, sharing stories and asking questions. You thought it was a great way to kill time and get to know each other better, considering you weren’t allowed to participate in anything until the last hour when most of the activities closed and the music and dancing started.

You had learnt about his upbringing, that he lives with a camping group that travels frequently and is essentially one big family, and about his hobbies, which included hunting, journaling and the occasional sketching and poetry. The last one surprised you a bit, and you asked if you could hear some, which seemed to get him flustered before he explained that it was kind of private, which you understood.

Fiddling with the sign-up sheet on the table, you looked around at all the stalls and activities and eyed your parents, one that was being swarmed for tartlets just like every other year. They’d be sold out in the next twenty minutes.

Sounds of rustling filled the air along with crunching footsteps from behind; you looked over and saw the couple giggling and dishevelled, with Arthur trailing behind, looking stunned and shaking his head. It took you a few seconds to put together what had occurred, and your face twisted in disgust, earning you a glare from the man before his wife dragged him away.

“You definitely do not see that every day.” 

Arthur thunked down onto the chair next to you and leaned onto the table, dragging his hands down his face in disbelief.

“Jesus. People don’t have any sense these days. What if a kid saw ‘em?!”, He exclaimed.

“It’s entirely unsanitary and unholy.”

You rolled your eyes, people should leave that for their bedrooms. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur's eyebrow raise in confusion but, he didn’t say anything else.

Time passed slowly for the rest of the afternoon, with more people coming and going and lighthearted conversations that ranged from ‘Favourite animal?’ to ‘Best flavour of pie?’, in which the only valid answer was apple-cinnamon, in his opinion.

——————————

It was later in the evening when you finally packed up the stall, the sun was going down and the band your father hired had begun setting up. Arthur offered to take the table and chairs to the piles on the other side of the town square whilst you took the donation jar and sheets to the crates that sat near your family’s wagon, you agreed and hoisted the jar into your arms and grabbed the stack of papers and made your way over.

Your mother was there organising the money and filing various papers into envelopes when you reached the wagon, though she was too distracted to notice you. It wasn’t like you were very big on talking to her at the moment. 

You returned to the plaza where everyone was gathered, the place was lit by street lamps and candles that sat atop the highest tiers of the fountain and the stands surrounding the outer edge of the town square. The music had just started a few minutes prior and people were already dancing, though mostly children.

Sitting on a bench on the far side of the square, you watched everyone enjoy themselves, you thought you would’ve been more excited to participate but honestly, you couldn’t get that face out of your head. The image had been burned into your brain since you were fourteen and seeing it again today terrified you just as much as it did all those years ago.

The feeling weighed on you like ten sacks of flour and clouded your thoughts like a thousand hurricanes. Out of all days. It was more than what you wanted to deal with and you were pretty sure Arthur had picked up on it too, but chose to say nothing after your near-death fiasco.

“Not dancin’?”

A woman’s voice broke your train of thought. You looked up to find Abigail standing with her hand on her hip, looking down at you.

“Maybe later.”

She sat down on the bench next to you and you thought you smelled alcohol on her breath as she talked.

“Y’know, Jack’s father is horrible. Took off on me and my boy after I gave birth. Still isn’t very involved at all. Hell, Arthur has been more of a father figure to him than he has, and it’s not even his kid.”

As much as she tried to hide it, the pain and anger in her voice was clear. You couldn’t imagine having to raise a child, let alone without the help of the father. Abigail looked at you with tear-welled eyes for a moment before sniffling and wiping them with her hands.

“But I love him, I love that stupid bastard. He may not love me back but this feeling isn’t something I can shake. It’s like when you first meet someone and there’s this little lantern of hope that lights within you, and that flame just keeps burning, whether it gets bigger or not, that flame burns.”

There was a pause before she looked back to you.

“I saw the way you look at him. I see that flame, and I don’t even think you notice it yourself.”

You stared at her, a little dumbfounded. The two of you had just been friends. Yes, he is a very striking man, but that didn’t correlate to fondness or likeness, right?

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Arthur and I are friends. That’s all.”

She rolled her eyes at your statement, chuckling.

“Hey, I’m serious. I think I’d know if I had a thing for someone.”

“Whatever y’say, Sugarplum.”

The snarky remark mixed with her expression almost earned a laugh out of you but you took into consideration what she was saying for a moment. No way.

“Well, however you feel is however you feel, but I’ll tell you something. That morning he came back, John asked him where he’d been and Arthur, bless his heart, he said he spent the night hopin’ and prayin’ that the girl he got drinks with didn’t hate his guts!”

She laughed so hard after that, you thought she’d fall off the bench onto the ground. Did he really think that? You thought that he would’ve moved past it casually, that he did that kind of thing often, you guessed not.

“Well I don’t, and he was very gentlemanly about it. Put me to bed and all.”

A smile crept onto your face as you thought about that night, it was neither’s fault, you didn’t know your limit and he didn’t know you were such a lightweight.

“He’s spent the last week worrying about you so much, we thought his hand would get fused to his forehead from all the time he spent sitting in the damn same position!”

Abigail proceeded to ramble about Arthur's antics for a few minutes, mentioning all the details he told her about how the first time you two had met was purely coincidental and what you talked about and about a billion other incoherent things you couldn’t hear because of the speed she was talking.

“And get this! I asked if you were pretty, considering how much he talked about you, and he-”

She paused with a laugh, clutching her chest.

“He said ‘pretty enough’. Little shit was lying, and I could tell, though I suppose anyone could considering how much he was avoiding eye contact, and how any time someone mentioned your name, he got all dopey and such.”

You barely comprehended what she was saying before she was holding your face in her hands and staring at you intently.

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous! A gorgeous piece of forbidden fruit.” A smirk grew on her face and her voice became hushed.

“Pastor’s daughter. Arthur better tread carefully.” She giggled, dragging out the last syllable in a teasing manner.

The thought of your father finding out you had even been in any sort of intimate vicinity of a cowboy who looked about old enough to be your dad himself was terrifying. You could just imagine the beating you’d receive, your mother's sobs about you being a disgrace and a scandalous harlot. However, a small part of your mind wondered about the possibility of becoming close to Arthur. How well did you know him?  

From what you had seen of him today, you wouldn’t have thought twice about his behaviour towards you or your behaviour towards him, but the more your mind replayed each interaction, it made more and more sense.

Maybe you did have a little thing for him. It’ll probably pass.

You heard your name and turned your attention away from Abigail to see none other than the man himself, standing there with a somewhat annoyed look on his face.

“Ladies.”

He cleared his throat twice before Abigail took notice, and when she did, she was nothing but cheery and smiles. A look was exchanged between all three of you before you broke the silence.

“Hey, Arthur. Did you get those chairs and table back, alright?”

Abigail snickered, pushed herself off the bench, and slowly slunk away, whistling and looking back at you before disappearing into the crowd.

“Yeah… Yeah, I did. Don’t mind Abigail, she jus’ likes to stir the pot. Did you she yap yer ear off? When she drinks, she gets talkative.”

You weren’t about to question him on anything she had just told you, absolutely not. Could you imagine? Actually, funny you say that. She told me that you have some sort of obligated sense of care for me, even though you’ve only known me for about two weeks . It wasn’t like you weren’t drawn to him at all, but you felt it wasn’t the time or place to discuss such a matter.

“She was just talking about Jack. Apparently, you’ve been a great help to her.”

Arthur leaned onto the back of the bench and looked at you. You felt like there was something behind his gaze that you couldn’t quite pick up.

“Well, someone’s got to do it, and no one else wants to. John doesn’t believe it’s his child, but I don’t really want to get into it.”

Oh. Oh. Poor Abigail.

“Of course, but it’s really sweet of you.”

The light danced in his eyes, and he stared at you intently for a few seconds, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Thanks…”

He seemed mesmerised by the way the candles illuminated your skin and how your lips curled into a smile when you complimented him. For a few seconds, your eyes searched his while he searched all of you. You felt that same warmth grow inside your chest, making your heartbeat heavy and deep, and your lips parted when Arthur’s gaze drifted to them. He’s so…

Arthur snapped out of it, and his eyes met yours again, and the corner of his mouth stretched into a half-smile. He broke the silence and nervously spoke.

“Would you, uh, care t’ dance?” 

The statement surprised you and the abruptness of it confused you before your mind registered what he said.

“I don’t think I can, my parents would see and-”

“No one will see you. Look at how many people there are, and I think you deserve some fun after all your hard work today.”

You looked out at the large crowd and debated his offer for a moment before answering.

“Alright. Just for a bit”

Your answer made Arthur grin before standing up and extending his hand out for you to take, which you graciously accepted and the two of you pushed your way through to the crowd’s centre. 

The quartet was playing upbeat music that you didn’t recognise, and you slowly started to tap your foot to the beat, Arthur did the same. After a few minutes, the both of you began twirling and stepping along with everyone around you and getting caught up in the music. Dancing and jumping and swinging each other around, you let enjoy the moment and all you heard was your laughter mixing with the song and the sound of feet hitting the ground.

The song came to an end soon after and you stopped jumping to catch your breath, thinking that the next song would be equally as fast. You looked up at Arthur who was slightly sweating and smiling and started smiling yourself.

Much to both of your surprise, the next song flowed like water, delicate and slow, and everyone around you two partnered up and began swaying. The two of you looked at each other awkwardly and stood still while everyone else was getting up close and personal, and you looked away and began to dance by yourself.

“What’re you doin’? Don’t be silly, come ‘ere.”

He moved closer to you and gently pulled you in, moving your arms the rest on his shoulders then holding your waist. Oh my god. You took a deep breath, exhaling and relaxing into his touch as you both danced.

Your heart’s pace quickened and for the first time in a long time, your face flushed pink and you avoided eye contact at all cost. The closest you’ve been to proper slow-dancing was was you did group line dancing as a sport in school and that was nothing like this. Arthur was looking down at you and for a split second, you looked back.

“You okay? This too much?”

His tone was sweet and slightly concerned when he spoke. You nodded, feeling that if you were to talk, it wouldn’t be words, just a jumble of sounds. And maybe a squeal.

The feeling of something unknown bloomed in your heart, shooting down and blooming out throughout your body, it was only mild, but thrilling. For the second time today, you were breathless, and this time, it was for a good reason.

He stepped closer, hands drifting down to your hips while he looked at you and smiled.

“I must say, you are a pretty girl.”

Your eyes met and you didn’t look away. God. Something had changed in you like those words activated a switch. You noticed his tan skin glistening in the candlelight, the way his shoulders felt under your hands, broad and strong. The way his hands firmly enveloped your hips and the way he looked at you desirously, wanting.

“Thank you, Mr Morgan.”

He chuckled, bowing his head when you called him that. You thought it was the polite way to address someone, especially when they were older than you. He looked back up and began to speak.

“You don’t have to be so formal, y’know?”

“It’s how I was raised, my daddy said it’s the proper way to address someone.”

“Yer daddy ain’t here. Just call me Arthur.”

“Arthur. Thank you”

The two of you shared a laugh and he drew your hips in, gently pressing you to his body. Despite the cool weather, Arthur was warm and inviting, and his body was like a firm pillow. Talk about leaving room for Jesus.  

You held your gaze on him, admiring his pretty, teal-coloured eyes and zoning out from everything around you. Nothing felt real, instead a mere fantasy and you were wondering when you were going to wake up, not that you wanted to.

Just as soon as you find bliss, it gets violently ripped away from you. Two hands yanked you backwards, causing you to stumble to the ground and all you heard was screaming, and when you looked up, your mother was getting ready to backhand you until Arthur caught her arm, causing her to scream even louder. 

“Let go of me this instant!”

Somehow she managed to wriggle out of his grip and began swiping at you with her other hand, managing to land a few hits before your father came to restrain her, whispering something inaudible in her ear.

Whatever he said made her stop in her tracks and slowly look around at the people staring at the scene she caused. Her face was pale and she was silent for a while before grabbing you by the ear and dragging you away. You saw Arthur’s face, which was one of complete shock, and you mouthed ‘I’m sorry’.

——————————

“What on our Lord’s holy earth were you doing with that man!?”, Your mother sat across from you in the carriage.

Your mother had left your father and sister at the fair to damage control, and so she could chew you out without worrying about hurting her ‘precious angels’. Golden childs. Feelings.

“I was just dancing.”

You looked out the window at the sunset, too annoyed with her to give her your full attention. For once, one goddamn time in your life, you truly felt at home, but no, she has to go and cause a scene. 

“Dancing? You call that dancing? More like rubbing fronts!”

Gross. Rubbing fronts? You never wanted to hear that term again.

“Ew, No.”

Part of you wanted to argue back, but the better part of you knew the consequences. It would end in another beating and you were still healing from the last one and now, the brand new scratches from her nails too.

The carriage came to a halt and you knew you were home, pushing open the door, you got out and made your way to the front door. Go to your room.

“Go to your room. I don’t want to see your face again until tomorrow.”

You just pushed the door open and went straight up the stairs and to your room, pulling off the uncomfortable clothes and collapsing on your bed. Tears formed in your eyes and you began to sob quietly into your pillow, smearing the makeup all over the crisp white linen.

How could she embarrass you like that? In front of everyone? She has officially lost it.

You lay there, listening to your clock tick and wishing that things went down differently. Tick. Minute after minute, you seethed in anger and had to remind yourself to breathe. Just breathe. Tick. The sun had gone down by now, plunging your room into almost darkness, only lit by the moonlight that filtered in through your thin curtains.

By the time you realised you were no longer crying and fading in and out of awareness, you guessed it was late at night and rolled over to look at your clock. 11:24 pm. Tick. You groaned when your stomach grumbled and mentally kicked yourself for not grabbing something to eat when you came in, but you just ignored the feeling and tried to go to sleep, not caring about the state you were in.

Tick, Tick. Tap?

[aquagirl1978]

IKEMEN PRINCE HEADCANONS - SUITOR'S REACTIONS TO RECEIVING A VALENTINE'S DAY GIFT (Chevalier, Clavis, Gilbert)

Thank you for voting in the poll for the Valentine's Day Headcanons - these three suitors received the most votes.

Chevalier Michel

What do you get for a man who values worth over physical items, a man who sees no need or want for "gifts"?

You drove yourself mad with worry, turning these questions over and over in your head. Until, that is, when an idea popped into your mind.

Immediately, you went to Sariel with your idea to see if this was even possible. For your idea was a grand gesture; this was no mere token of affection.

Sariel agreed that it was a splendid idea, surely a surprise for the King of Rhodolite.

"I'll do my part here to help keep him occupied inside the palace," Sariel informed you. it helped to have the Palace's Devil on your side for this task.

It was surely a challenge to keep Chevalier away from your surprise. True to his word, Sariel did all he could to busy the King with paperwork and meetings.

But that did nothing to help in the evenings when Chevalier was ready to stretch his legs.

"What do you mean, we can't go in the rose garden?" he asked one evening.

Stammering, your mind searched for an excuse. "Er, it was raining earlier and the grounds are all wet."

"I was near a window all day and saw no rain."

Sighing, you quickly thought of something else. "Clavis set a trap out there, we should really go back to your library."

Chevalier narrowed his eyes at you. He had an inkling something was up, but wished to avoid any potential traps. And not spoil whatever it was you were plotting.

After that first time, however, Chevalier did not ask to go to the gardens, instead allowing you to guide him back to the library or his bedroom.

Until one night, when you suggested you head to the gardens.

Chevalier looked at your curiously. "The gardens? Are you sure there are no hidden traps?" he asked with a laugh.

Smiling, you slipped your hand through his bent arm. "No, I think it's all clear out there today."

He led you through a maze of familiar hallways until you reached the doors leading to the gardens.

"I assume you're aware what today is." Your voice was quiet, almost hesitant as you looked at him.

"Indeed. It's that ridiculous holiday that couples choose to celebrate their love for one another." Chevalier couldn't understand why there was one day dedicated to celebrating one's love for another; this is something that should be conveyed any day, every day.

Smiling, glad he remembered, you tugged on his arm, leading him towards the gazebo where he liked to read.

Chevalier raised a brow at you when you stopped right before the gazebo. There was more flowers than usual - dahlias and tulips in shades of pink, complimenting the roses that lined the gazebo. There was a new stone walkway leading to the seating area that was now furnished with plush pillows.

Amongst the new flowers, there was a small plaque, raised on a stake, your gaze was fixed on.

"The King's Garden," he read aloud, his fingers tracing the elegant raised letters. "This garden was planted for the King on Valentine's Day by...." His voice trailed off as he turned his gaze to you.

Your firsts clenched, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress, you averted your gaze. "I wanted to give you something that wasn't ephemeral. Somewhere you could go to everyday. Something that would live on, something future generations could enjoy."

"You forgot one thing, simpleton," he said, tilting your chin up with his thumb. Worried he didn't care for your gift, you looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping for acceptance. "There's no mention of the queen on this plaque."

Blushing, you were surprised by his question. "That's because I'm not the queen," you replied matter-of-factly.

"Yet," he said softly, kissing the top of your head. "You're not the queen yet."

Clavis Lelouch

"Oh my, it's horrifying!" Yves shrieked as he stepped away from the table.

"It looks just like his creations, it's scary," Jin observed as he peered at your masterpiece. "It's amazing, you nailed all of the details - the lopsided eyes, the weird ears. To think, it's all made of chocolate."

Jin reached out, ready to steal a piece to satisfy his sweet tooth.

"That's for Clavis!" you exclaimed, swatting his hand away before he could ruin your creation.

"What's for Clavis?" a familiar voice asked.

You spun in your spot, shifting to hide what was on the table. "Um, it's nothing."

Clavis tilted his head, trying to peer behind you. "It doesn't look like nothing." He took a step closer to you, trying to get a better look, but you kept moving, blocking his view.

"I think it's time we head back to the office," Jin announced, hinting to Yves that it was time to go.

"Good," Yves said as he followed Jin. "That thing was looking at me, and I didn't like it."

"Now what was my little brother talking about just now." Clavis stood right in front of you, his amber eyes holding your gaze, as he cupped your cheek in his hand.

Sighing, you stepped away, revealing the creation you were hiding.

Clavis sighed, clearly in awe of what he was witnessing. "It's....it's my bunny cake I make for you. But it's -"

"Completely made in chocolate," you said. "I had heard that chocolate is the traditional Valentine's Day gift, and I -"

"Recreated my masterpiece..." Clavis leaned in, gazing adoringly at the strange bunny cake.

"Shall we eat it?" His golden eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Yes!" you replied, curious to try what you made.

Clavis lifted you in his arms, placing you on the edge of the table.

"It's such a shame to destroy it like this, but then, it would be a shame not to eat it." He broke off one of the bunny's ear; bringing it to your lips, he offered it to you for a nibble.

The chocolate was sweet on your lips; smooth and creamy, it melted on your tongue.

"How is it?" he asked, anticipation alight in his amber eyes.

"So good, so very good." Your eyes drifted closed as you savored the sweetness of the chocolate.

You broke off the other bunny ear, offering it to Clavis to try.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist, as if he was going to guide your hand to his mouth. But instead, he moved your hand away to the side and kissed you, his tongue sweeping your lips, tasting the sweetness for himself.

"You're right, it's delicious."

Gilbert von Obsidian

You were so immersed in your own little world, humming to yourself as you prepared the raisin cakes that you didn't even hear him walk into the kitchen.

His footsteps were soft as he approached you. Without his cane, you didn't hear the tell-tale tapping sound as he stepped behind you.

He caught you by surprise, his arms reaching around your waist.

Without his fur cloak dampening his chill, his body was cooler than usual, his broad chest pressing against your back, his arms firm against your waist.

"You didn't tell me you were baking," he whispered in your ear, nipping the rim of your ear.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you chided him as you continued to assemble to cakes.

He brushed your hair to one side of your shoulder, his gloveless finger ice-cold on your skin as he traced the ribbon your wore around your neck hiding the love bites he left on your neck last night.

Gently pushing the ribbon down, he found an expanse of unmarked skin. Dipping his head, he left sucking kisses on your neck, before clamping his mouth on your pulse point as he left another mark on your delicate skin.

Placing soothing kisses on your skin, he replaced your ribbon, covering the pale pink blossoms on your neck.

Gilbert rested his head on your should as he watched you prepare the raisin treats he once made for you.

Wordlessly, he placed his hand on yours, guiding your hand as you made his favorite treat, enjoying how your warm hand felt in his.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Twisting in his arms to face him, you held a cake to his lips, letting him have the first bite. "I tried to recreate your recipe from scratch..."

Gilbert bit into the cake; it was everything he remembered them tasting like. Maybe even more. Because they were made by you. Made with love.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said before biting the tip of your finger.