#i hate that i put x reader in the tags

[scoutsbabygirl]

i would like to sincerely apologize to everyone. i already know some of y'all are gonna go crazy for this audio

[selfcarecap]

Lip Gloss [A.D.]

Art Donaldson x reader (x Patrick Zweig)

summary: Art loves when you kiss him while wearing lip gloss and it gets all over his own lips. What he loves even more is when you get on your knees for him and he ends up with lip gloss stains all over another certain body part of his.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral m receiving, fingering f receiving, handjob, reader and Art have sex next to Patrick who is asleep but they have permission, submissive-ish!Art, a bit of voyeurism from Patrick – he doesn’t ask but for the sake of this fic we’re assuming consent bc it’s fictional, m masturbation, spitting, cum eating, pet names: good boy, baby, reader says Art is ‘wet like a girl’), feminine Art (so dare I say canon Art🙂‍↕️) or at least he likes lip gloss lol, Art and Patrick are college roommates – attraction heavily implied between all three of them but only Art and reader are in a relationship, this was supposed to just be a drabble lol there’s no plot just porn, also i’m kinda intimidated by the challengers fandom lol idk but anyway here's my first challengers fic sddslkh <3

word count: 3.4k | gorgeous divider by @dollywons

When you first start dating Art, you always apologise for wearing lipgloss when you’re kissing him. You always wipe it off his lips after a kiss, pulling your sleeves over your hands to get it off his mouth. You’ve heard that guys don’t like it, but you like wearing lipgloss and Art has never complained. 

When you get more comfortable around him, you don’t always wipe the gloss off his lips, letting him do it himself. But he only does it because he feels like it’s what he’s supposed to do. Guys aren’t supposed to like the feeling of lip gloss. He’s probably supposed to tell you it’s annoying and ask you to stop wearing lip gloss, at least when you’re with him. 

But he doesn’t want to control you, and he doesn’t want you to stop wearing lip gloss. He just wants you to stop apologising for it.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells you every time with a smile, but you still do it. 

“I know it’s sticky. I won’t put any more on tonight, don’t worry.” Art stops himself from pouting at your words. 

And yes, Art once applied the lip gloss that you left on his nightstand. He was missing you and the lip gloss was the closest thing to you that he had. He ran into the bathroom when Patrick came home, wiping it off furiously before his best friend could see. 

He likes keeping a shirt of yours at his place so that he can smell you even when you’re not there, but what he likes even more is to apply your lip gloss. It’s just a thin layer, but it makes him feel like he’s been freshly kissed by you. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s definitely no reason he does it other than to feel closer to you. 

-

You’re getting ready for the birthday of a friend one night. You’ll be going to a bar for a bit, nothing big. But you’re doing your make-up on Art’s bed with him sitting behind you, hands on your hips. 

“You look so pretty.” 

He says those words for every step of your routine. He wants you to know how beautiful you are no matter how much or how little make-up you’re wearing, even if it’s cheesy. Art grins when you show him the finished look, and his eyes stay stuck on your glossy lips, tinted a dark pink, almost red colour. 

He knows you can’t resist it when he looks at you like that, he never can when it’s the other way around either, so you press a kiss to his lips. Art knows that you’ll be wiping the sticky gloss off as soon as the kiss is over, so he deepens it to keep the feeling of lip gloss on him, even though Patrick is sitting in the bed right next to you. 

Knowing him, he’s probably staring and enjoying it; Art wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the sound of Patrick’s phone camera going off. 

You smile against Art as you part your lips for him, trying but not quite managing to bring yourself to stop kissing him yet. You have to physically take Art’s chin between your fingers and push his face away from you to stop. And yet, you give in again immediately, peppering his face in kisses before you pull away for good. 

You give Patrick an apologetic smile, even though you both know he doesn’t mind you and Art making out next to him. By the time you look back at Art, he’s already wiping at the lip gloss stains all over his face. Your cheeks heat up when you realise how many marks you’ve made on him. You forgot you put on a darker and more pigmented lip gloss than normal. 

“Wait,” you giggle, pulling away Art’s hand that’s already trying to wipe the sticky gloss away, “I’ll bring you a wipe.” 

“Doesn’t he look pretty like that?” Patrick comments before you have a chance to get up. Art throws a pillow at him. 

You look between them, at Art’s face littered with shiny, sticky stains. His lips are especially dark and shiny, as if you just put some lip gloss right on there, albeit a bit messily. 

“Of course he’s pretty like this,” you say, not looking away from Art.

 “Then just leave him like that, he likes it.”

“I don’t,” Art defends much too fast, and Patrick laughs. Art reaches for his pillow to throw at Patrick but remembers he already did. He’s about to stand up to go to the bathroom and get a stupid wipe himself, but you grip his t-shirt and he sits back down. 

“It’s okay if you like it, baby. It’s hot that you do,” you try to whisper the last part, and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss him again, “Let me clean you up, and I’ll put some lip gloss on you properly.” 

“Only cause you think it’s hot,” Art calls after you weakly. 

Patrick laughs again. 

“Shut up.”

Art shyly tries to catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

You sit back down in front of him, gently cleaning his face. You hold out the lip gloss afterwards, placing a hand on his face to apply it, the wet pop sounding when you undo the lid. 

“Wait,” Art leans back abruptly, as if you’re about to hurt him, “I want it from your lips.” 

You huff, smiling at him. You apply some more lipgloss to your own lips, taking your boyfriend’s face to give him a kiss to his pursed lips. You apply more and kiss him again. You both smile at the oddly innocent kiss – pursed lips against pursed lips. 

You wipe away the excess over Art’s cupid’s bow, grinning at his shiny, sticky lips. 

“You look so pretty, baby,” you tell your boyfriend, and he blushes. 

“Show me,” Patrick says, leaning forward to see Art from the front. Art turns his head away from his best friend, red up to the tips of his ears now. 

“Show him, baby,” you coax, reaching out for his chin to turn his head. You know Patrick likes to make jokes, but not when his best friend is like this – eyes like those of a puppy, genuinely embarrassed. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but Art has made it such a big deal in his head that he can’t like having your lipgloss on his lips that Patrick knows he needs encouragement right now. Patrick moves to sit at the edge of the bed to look at Art better. “Look at you, Artie, all pretty. Looks almost as good as on your girlfriend.” 

You roll your eyes – you should’ve known he can’t be fully serious. 

“You have to leave now, you’re already late,” Art reminds you, and you let him press another kiss to your lips. You’ll have to clean up the mess he’s made on your mouth on the way, but you don’t mind. You watch him enjoy the feeling of the sticky gloss on his lips a few more seconds before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You and Patrick share a look, rolling your eyes, and you blow a kiss to Art before you close the door.

 - 

You come back home early, before midnight. The birthday girl left to go see her boyfriend halfway through her own birthday party, so you’re back at Art and Patrick’s dorm. You’d be annoyed at your friend if you didn’t have your own boyfriend to go visit.

Patrick is already lightly snoring when Art opens the door for you – he’s in nothing but boxers – and you know what that means.  

Patrick has given you two permission to do whatever you want while he’s asleep, as long as you’re quiet. You’ve always wondered if it’s a tactic to secretly listen in on you and Art having sex, knowing that you would’ve otherwise never done it with him in the room. 

Art has a small light on next to his bed, and you join him on his mattress. A few leftover glitter particles sparkle on his lips, and you pull his face closer to yours. 

“Suits you so well, Artie. So pretty.” You swipe your finger over his bottom lip. He kisses it, stopping himself from smiling. He’s already looking at your lips, and you mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering to reapply your gloss just before you got here. 

You kiss him then, and Art licks into your mouth as if he’s been starved and waiting to eat you up since you left. You adjust your position to sit on top of him, and your knee grazes his lap. He’s already fully hard.

“Sorry.. couldn’ help myself. Pat fell asleep and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you grin, holding his jaw, “You want me to make it better? Want me to go down on you?”

Art nods distractedly, mumbling out, “please, baby. Need you”. Your thumb brushes the gloss on his lip, and Art opens his mouth. You pull your hand away before he can wrap his lips around your thumb, and you kiss him as a whine escapes his mouth, muffling his voice.

You press your lips against his until they’re coated in your shiny gloss, and then you slide a finger into his mouth. He sucks on it – pink, sparkly lips around your finger.

“You look so pretty. Should wear my lipgloss more often,” you tell him, and he turns his head away in fake-annoyance, your finger slipping out. You feel his hard cock against your leg again as he moves, and you pull at his chin to open his mouth.

Art moans as you messily push three of your fingers into his mouth to get them wet against his tongue. You pull them out and slide them down into the waistband of his boxers, and down the length of his cock.

You put your hand over his mouth before he has a chance to moan, and you nod towards Patrick. He’s asleep, his back to you, but it’s not going to take long for Art to wake him if he keeps being this loud.

You get up, and Art pulls his legs to the side of the bed as you sit down between them. He’s straining against his boxers, a tall tent pulling the fabric taut. You release Art’s cock, and it slaps against his abs. He’s glistening down his length from where you spread his spit on him, a small puddle of precum already at the tip. 

You giggle quietly, “So wet, baby. You’re wet like a girl.”

“Shut up,” he whispers back weakly, biting his lip to stop a smile from spreading over his face.

You kiss the wet tip, licking the precum, and begin to leave lip gloss stains all down his length.

“Feels so good, baby. You’re so good at this,” Art says not nearly quietly enough.

“Shh, baby. Don’t wanna wake Patrick up.”

Your boyfriend nods, but you don’t think he’s listening.

You take his dick into your mouth properly now, wet heat enveloping him as you take him deeper, and you look up to see how he bites his lip and lets nothing but a breath slip past his lips as he watches you.

“Good boy,” you whisper to him. He intertwines his fingers with yours by the side of his hip, and you look up to smile at him. You ignore how, when you look past Art for a split second, you can see Patrick clearly jerking his cock under the blanket, the movement of his arm making it obvious. 

You shake your head slightly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Art’s best friend, and you take your boyfriend deeper down your throat as your spit drips to his balls. Art looks down at you with such restraint on his face, it almost looks like he’s about to cry.

He manages not to make a sound when you suck his dick more eagerly, your lip gloss smeared over his cock as you jerk off what you can’t take past your lips. The only sound in the room is the wetness of your mouth and your spit around your boyfriend’s cock.

Art lets out a shaky breath as his abs contract, his hand squeezing yours, and you softly nod up at him, taking his cock as deep as you can. He whimpers pathetically when he spills his load down your throat, and you swallow it all as he keeps cumming and cumming in your mouth.

When you pull away, out of breath and with your lips wet, you take in the picture you created. Art’s cock is full of your lip gloss, his face shiny with a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks as red as the gloss you left on his lips earlier. You’re about to stand up and get a wipe to clean Art up, but he pulls his boxers back on.

He likes the glossy stains on his cock even more than the ones you leave on his lips. 

He pulls you up on the bed, lying you on your back. “Please can I go down on you?” he whispers, mouthing at your neck and down your chest, pulling your top down as much as the tight fabric allows, whining when he doesn’t get all the way down to your nipples.

As much as you want Art to eat your pussy, you won’t let him. He always gets messy and loud, moaning almost uncontrollably as he makes out with your wet pussy, and there is no way Patrick could pretend to sleep through that. 

If you thought Art was going to cry earlier from how good he felt, he reaches a new level of teariness now when you tell him no, eyes almost glassy.

“Tomorrow, okay? You can still use your fingers now.” Art looks at least somewhat assuaged at your offer, and lies down on his side next to you, unknowingly shielding you from Patrick. You don’t know if he came along with Art, or if he’s still jerking off, and that makes it even more exciting. 

You know Art would never cheat on you, but if you gave him permission to, and if he admitted his attraction, you’re sure he’d jump at the first opportunity to invite Patrick into bed with you two. You know Patrick feels the same. You like the thought of him listening in, making himself cum to the sound of his best friend and his girlfriend having sex.

“Here,” Art urges, holding a hand to your mouth, even though he knows you’ll be more than wet enough from giving him head. You spit into his open palm, and Art spits in too, the way he always does, liking the feeling of your combined warm wetness against his skin. 

Art reaches down your body and into your underwear, adding to the wetness. He rubs your clit in messy circles, kissing you even messier. You spread your legs for him more, but Art lets out a frustrated huff.

“Can I… want you naked,” he mumbles against your skin. Art watches with puppy eyes as you get up, taking off your tight top and grabbing your favourite oversized shirt of his instead, sliding off your trousers and panties only once you’ve put the shirt on.

“This is all you get.”

Art looks happy enough as you get back into bed with him, sliding a hand up your shirt now that he can comfortably get under the hem, and cups one of your tits.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Art says against your lips, hand moving back between your legs to play with your pussy, “So pretty.”

He circles your clit for a few moments before he pushes a finger inside while making out with you, remnants of his own cum still in your mouth, spit and gloss between you two as he continues to rub your clit.

“You’re the prettiest woman in the world,” he says, voice almost strained, and you realise he’s hard again, humping the mattress as well as he can while lying on his side, “Wish I was inside your pussy right now.”

You have to resist giving in to him – he’ll be insatiable the rest of the night if you let him fuck you even just for a few seconds – but you reach down to pull his cock free from his boxers, wrapping your hand around him.

“Can you focus if I’m doing this?” you ask pointedly, and Art nods eagerly.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be a good boy. I’ll make you cum,” he promises, slurring his words as your thumb swipes over the tip. But he’s not lying, he’s still fucking your pussy with his fingers. You’ve trained him well, so he knows what to do.

You can’t deny that you’re both getting loud now, if it’s not the moans you don’t quite manage to swallow down, then it’s the sound of your wet pussy and your slicked hand around Art’s cock.

You cum almost at the same time, Art rubbing your clit at just the right, albeit messy, intensity, and your thighs squeeze around his forearm when the orgasm flows through you, your own hand not stopping around Art’s cock. He’s breathing hard, reaching for the tissues on his headboard, but the tissue box topples over and falls against his shoulder and to the floor as he tries and fails to rip out a tissue.

“Here, I got you, baby,” you angle his cock to his abs, so that he won’t be spilling all over his own sheets, and you only have to jerk Art’s dick for a few more seconds before he’s shooting ropes of cum over his own skin. His abs glisten as his breath stutters, and he has to wrap his hand around yours to stop when he gets too sensitive.

“I love you so much,” Art huffs with a smile, and you kiss him briefly.

“I love you too.” You gather his cum off his abs, wiping it over your palm and holding it over his mouth. It drips and falls between Art’s parted lips. Art hums when you slip your fingers into his mouth, and he sucks the last drops of his load off them.

“Such a good boy,” you rub your thumb over his cheek, gazing at him in awe.

“I love you so much,” he tells you again, a soft smile on his face.

When you’re done and you look over, Patrick is back to quietly snoring, a freshly crumpled tissue by the side of his bed. You kiss Art before you can begin to smirk, and you briefly consider telling him. You decide it’s a conversation for another day. Art would definitely get hard again if he knew that Patrick was jerking off to you two doing it, and he’s already squeezed out two orgasms just now. You don’t need him that overstimulated tonight.

You remove your makeup and get one of the fresh pairs of panties Art bought for you to keep at his place. You walk back into the bedroom and find Art on his back, smiling at you all fucked out. 

You lie down with him, letting him cup one of your tits for comfort so that he can sleep better. You kiss his cheek and see that his lips are still shiny with glittery gloss. You decide not to offer to clean him up, now that you know he likes it like that. 

P.S. Thank you for reading <3 Reblog and comment for Art to come and kiss the gloss off your lips 🤭

[queenofallimagines]

Needy Embarrassing sex with Sae

A/N: Daydreaming about this mans dick what else is new🙄😒 imagining he’s in charge of helping the new manager get accustomed to the team and he can’t help but let his eyes wander

EDIT: MDNI but here’s an audio reference for y’all who not picking up what I’m putting down💕 twitter link 🥰

Sae:

- this one gave me butterflies Ngl

- Bc I can hear his voice

- Like I said he’s a lot more Tame than Rin so he does have an occasional soft spot

- ESPECIALLY for cute little things who can’t even remember the name of half the teammates they’re managing

- Since he’s the best of the best coach obviously tells him to whip you into shape

- “Try not to scare this one off”

- “Not my fault you signed off on someone who can’t even fill a water bottle”

- The coach is praying for you fr

- Surprised that you take the initiative to approach him first to ask him about things

- “I mean you ARE the star midfielder right? You probably have a good read on everyone and how they work so asking you would be my best bet.”

- Okay he loves a go getter

- Pleasantly surprised that you’re asking good questions

- “I’m trying to get as much info as possible so this becomes second nature.”

- Gives you a through rundown of the schedule and what time they take breaks

- Obviously he’s a diva so he’s the most demanding

- Giving you a tour around the facilities

- “That’s the locker room. Wouldn’t recommend walking by here between the hours of 4:45 and 6pm”

- “…..I’ll keep that in mind.”

- Finds showing you around not annoying

- Once you get to the dorms he’s listing off everyone’s sleeping habits

- “He won’t wake up before 8:30 am so if you can manage that congratulations”

- He’s been eyeing you this entire time but he can’t help it!

- He’s a hard worker so anyone putting in honest effort into anything especially when it pertains to him catches his eye

- Not his fault you look good taking notes and analyzing your surroundings

- Stands back when showing you the rooms so he can sneak a peek at your ass

- You feel him glaring holes into your back but it’s not for the reason you think

- He’s infamous for being kinda a spoiled brat but he produces amazing results so who’s gunna say something to him??

- Lmao not I said the cat

- You don’t even peep his heated gaze until you bump into him walking backwards

- Turning around quickly to apologize before he can catch an attitude his eyes are quite literally undressing you

- This man’s whole life is sports so ofc he’s gunna find a track suit sexy

- Will play it off like he’s not embarrassed for getting caught

- “Cat got your tongue? Don’t tell me you’re just now getting star struck.”

- Mans is giggly asf in the back of his head

- He fr ain’t seen someone catch his eye like this in a while

- Logically getting his dick wet right now would be nice

- But also with the new manager on the first day??

- weighing the options in his head and the way you look up at him and go

- “What about you? What do you want from your manager?”

- He threw caution to the wind

- Everyone else is busy with practice and he can make up some lukewarm ass excuse as to why you guys took so long

- Testing the waters by letting one of his hands rest on your lower back

- Mamma ain’t raise no bitch so he’s relieved you immediately return his energy

- He’s not wasting anymore time and pulls you in for a kiss

- Mans is STARVED for intimacy like this so he’s definitely a little more vulnerable

- Like that’s definitely the reason your lips fit so well against his

- Why your body curves into his so nicely when he carries you to his bed

- Yeah that’s definitely it

- Feeling himself get embarrassingly hard so fast he’s feverishly tugging at your sweatpants

- “Let me make you feel good, there you go.”

- The quiver in his voice isn’t missed

- You have a once in a lifetime free pass to tease THE Itoshi Sae

- PLEASE TAKE IT!!

- Grind your hips into his while tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck and he will let out some of the sweetest moans for you

- It really has been a while the way his hands are shaking to pull off his own clothes

- Pull him down to kiss you, distracting him from his current task

- He’s weak for being pushed around a little

- Throws your legs over his shoulders without warning

- The way he’s got your legs spread wide for him and he’s eye level with what he wants has you avoiding eye contact at all costs

- Moving his head between your thighs he’s damn near moaning with his mouth all over you

- Holds your trembling thighs still right beside his ears as he shamelessly moans into your cunt

- “You taste so fucking good, gonna use my fingers.”

- This man has not had pussy I’m so long he’s acting FOOLISH

- If he even took a moment to BREATHE he would be giving you heart eyes

- The way he’s singing praises while sucking your clit and angling his fingers to hit your g-spot all at once

- Man is filthy, and he’s not at all ashamed like he’s grown

- Spitting on your clit before he starts rubbing it with his thumb

- While his mouth and other hand are busy getting as much of your taste as possible

- The type of man to need to lay a towel down no matter WHAT your doing in bed

- Very “wait I didn’t shave” “did I ask all that??” Energy imo

- He’s gunna have you cumming on his sheets anyway so what do all that matter??

- Looks up and sees you covering your face trying to keep your noises down and that shit don’t fly w him

- “Keep covering your face and I’ll tie your hands to the bed.”

- And he’s dead serious too

- Comes up to kiss you not caring if you taste yourself because he wants to feel your lips THAT bad

- The way he refuses to break eye contact only serves to make you more shy because they’re glossed over with desire

- making sure you can’t squirm away from him has he has you cumming on his fingers

- “Feel good?… Yeah? like how i stretch you out? Let me feel you come undone then.”

- Whew IK he talks you through it😫

- “Keep your eyes open.”

- “S-sae I can’t-“

- “You can and you will, pretty thing.”

- Feels your nails digging into your wrists as you clench around his fingers

- “Ah. Almost there? Make a mess f’me.”

- Almost came in his pants watching your eyes roll back

- Since he IS shameless he’ll lick his fingers clean as you’re forced to watch him

- Dramatic as fuck the way he groans about you tasting good

- “Let me watch you play with it.”

- Watching your small fingers curl inside your pussy as you mewl in embarrassment almost has him intoxicated

- Throwing his damn clothes anywhere

- He’s not too stupid to not tease you a little tho

- “If you’re that shy turn around and hide your face in the pillows”

- Nothing is EVER that easy with him

- Cursing and grunting under his breath as he slips it in

- “How about you set the pace. Fuck me how you want”

- Chuckles as you hide your face in the pillows while fucking back into him

- He knows how to put on a performance before all else too

- “Use my cock cmon, make me proud and fuck me good pretty.”

- He’s moaning like a whole ass pornstar head thrown back and everything

- Trying not to move because this is your “punishment” for being all shy

- Can’t help it when you look back at him face clearly burning and whimpering at how embarrassing this is

- Praising you which makes it even MORE embarrassing

- “There you go” “fuck me till I come cmon” “you can do it”

- Like bro SHUT UP😭

- However the way you’re squeezing him tells otherwise

- When he feels you come around him he grits his teeth and says a small sorry in his head before he shoves your face into the mattress

- Feeling you wrapped about him had him fr loosing his mind

- Might skip all of practice just to keep doing this

- “Mhm, you can cum on this dick.. i wanna see it messy."

- Stretches out his words and talks all slow

- He is an Itoshi though unfortunately

- “W-wait Sae, 's too much, you're too fucking big."

- Has you seeing stars like never before

- Clit pincher🗣️ hair puller🗣️

- “Sayin’ it's too much but whining for more? Can't make up your then mind I’ll decide for you.”

- Pushing you deeper into the mattress with his whole body weight

- Grunts and moans RIGHT into your damn ear because you’re squeezing him so might tighter shouldn’t he tell you how good you’re making him feel?

- “At least your cunt knows what she wants, pretty pussy sucking me in and won’t let go. Want me to fill you up that damn bad?”

- Failed to take into account that all he wants to do now is lay down and spoon you while you cockwarm him

- But alas this is the shared dorm and NOT his apartment

- And he has no clue how long y’all been at it

- Helps you clean up while wobbling slightly

- Makes sure there’s no trace of what yall did but the sheets to his bed being in the washing machine

- Nobody thinks nothing bc he’s an upper class brat who needs things to be pristine

- Some people get suspicious when it happens like 5 times a week though….

- He does all his laundry separate so there’s no one to see how your underwear accidentally falls out the pocket of one of his jackets

- Everyone congratulates you on somehow going above and beyond so well that The Sae Itoshi acknowledged you!

- He didn’t think after the first time that looking at your ass you’d be enough to make him embarrassingly hard in public but oh well

- “Continue in my absence I’m going to check if the manager has the new schedule.”

- A few people see red scratches peeking out his jersey but meh probably just the imagination

[hystixia]

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if you commission anything that falls under suggestive content, nsfw or dark content you will have to send photo proof of your age via id. you can block out all information besides your birthdate. that’s all that i need to see to verify that you are a legal adult. if you cannot provide proof of being an adult then i will refuse to accept your commission.

once payment has been made and i have started working on your commission, there will be no refunds allowed. so please be positive you want to commission something and you’re happy with the draft i offer before paying.

i’m sure i’m probably missing some things as i’ve never had to do this and i’m sure this is terribly formatted and set up so i do apologize for the sloppy format :,) i do however appreciate all of you for all the support you’ve given me thus far and i am sorry for coming to u all in such a way. i never thought i’d be in this position but here we are. if you’ve read this far i thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking time to read through all of this. any type of help is appreciated whether its thru commissions, tips, reblogs or anything of the sort. i appreciate every single one of you for all you’ve given me :,) you truly have no idea the impact u’ve all left on my life since i first started writing fics on tumblr. i hope u all have a wonderful day/night wherever you are <3

[sailorrhansol]

One in the Grave | Series Masterlist

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Vernon x Dhampir!Reader (f) 

❀ Summary: Immortal problems require immortal solutions, but you never expected the unlikely help from a vampire lord and the destruction that might come with it. 

❀ Series Word Count: 1,366 so far

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Dystopian,

❀ Type: Unlikely allies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Series Warnings: General fantasy and supernatural violence, dystopian/totalitarian themes, depictions of blood and gore, angst, character traumas, death and sickness, depictions of loss and suffering, humans are subservient to vampires, explicit language, and explicit sexual content. Each chapter will have its own set of carefully labeled warnings, these are general warnings for overarching themes. 

❀ A/N: This dystopian vampire idea is something I have had written in my writing journals since I was in middle school and I've finally decided to use the idea as a fic. I am writing this as I go and posting when chapters are ready - there is no schedule or post plan, just vibes. Please be patient with me! I have to see this fic through to the end or @daechwitatamic will find me and put me into a room until I do :)

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Playlist

00// NOTES FROM THE FALL

01// THE FAVOR

02// THE DHAMPIR . . . COMING SOON

[screamingcrows]

I thought about it and decided @mrskreideprinz gets both, so here is prompt 28. "Please help me"

Il Dottore x reader below. Uhh comfort?

How long you'd been standing in the doorway was a mystery rivalling the ones lining the heavy wooden desk across the room. Or perhaps that was your own mind playing tricks again.

Today had simply been too much.

The room was dimly lit as usual, a far less sterile appearance than his treasured laboratories and workshops.

Scattered papers no doubt equivalent to an entire forest lay scattered across the unforgiving floor, deemed less important than the numerous others carefully arranged in folders lining countless shelves. The ones unoccupied by his personal collection of books and records of various forms least.

Dottore had remained hunched over his desk at an odd angle for the entirety of your impromptu visit. His desk had been arranged so he would face away from the door, he did not receive guests nor hold any meetings in his sanctuary.

Visitors were not taken to kindly, and certainly not when the door had been locked and his beaked mask discarded for the night, sharp visage peering towards any potential intruders.

Guilt weighed about as heavily upon your heart as the key did in your palm.

Outside, the aurora danced across the sky, countless stars shining through the coloured ribbons. His shadowy figure appeared almost surreal with the shifting outline.

It made you want to throw up. You knew this was unreasonable, there was nothing to do nor was your current state in any shape his fault. It simply happened from time to time.

The world too much and you too little for it was what your mind would whisper in the dark hours spent in solitude.

'Please help me' was what you wished you could say.

A sigh left him in time with the shrill protests of old wood as he straightened, 'if it creaks it holds', a silly proverb a few of the younger segments favoured whenever their mechanical creations would sound a second from death.

"At least come in and close the door."

The steady scratch of graphite never ceased, every move of his hand accompanied by a nervous twitch of yours.

Dottore hadn't asked you to leave, that was the important part. Except a part of you wished he had. The gnawing feeling eating away behind your ribs would have an explanation then.

As would the dull throb of your head and the shake of your hands and-

A singular word emphasised the deafening emptiness as his pen stopped moving, "Sit."

Head lowered in defeat; utterly uncertain what battle you'd even lost, you followed the simple instruction and stepped closer. In a familiar exchange, your body halted for further direction, eyes flickering to the stool tucked away in a corner.

Dottore pushed away from the desk, turning his body a fraction towards you in a silent call. Gladly, you obliged with relief dampening your lashes as you settled.

Nothing chased away the cold quite like his delicate warmth. If you couldn't feel the telltale heartbeat against your back, perhaps it'd been easy to mistake him for artificial with how he always seemed to run just a little warmer than expected.

But there were no wires beneath the hand that snaked around your wrist, wholly organic as crooked fingers sunk into your flesh, a single thumb peeking under the fabric.

Testing. Asking.

The touch didn't burn, nor did it tear at your skin, so you remained silent, letting out a shaky breath as more of his palm met with your skin.

Although you knew he commanded the will of many, the deliberate way he forced your attention to his touch only never ceased to stun you.

He could've said his hand was covered in analgesic salve and you'd have believed it, relishing the calm that slowly crept along your nerves.

Perhaps you'd dozed, fallen victim to the steady breathing, deep scent of coffee, and the safety of his arms, at least you couldn't quite recall when he'd pushed away the papers and reached for a book instead.

The weight of his chin upon your shoulder was grounding, a stark contrast to the erratic flutter brought on by his lips carefully pressing to your neck.

"It will be a while before I finish," his voice was coarse, from disuse or overuse was impossible to know without inquiring about his day.

Regardless, you'd make a pot of tea before he could rise tomorrow, white tea with sumeru rose buds and dried zaytun peaches being a favourite method of awakening he'd never admitted to.

But that was the beauty of it all, you realised, words were far from necessary.

Perhaps today was enough and tomorrow would be fine.

[nervocat]

Why the hell are we making hsr political now..

[theloveinc]

bakugo + the stages of breakup guilt (haha, get it?)

(warning: angst with happy end, gender neutral except a veil is mentioned)

-

No one makes Bakugo feel worse about the breakup than his parents do. Not your friends, ignoring all his texts and calls (other than the ones about the bag of underwear, socks, and your special moisturizer you requested be dropped off with someone), not Kiri or even Izuku when they look at him with pity in their eyes and offer to take him out for drinks. And not the dude who plants his ass against his crotch at the club and then calls security on him for taking a swing at his eye (he only gets away with it because the dodge was successful).

No. His parents do. His mother dropping the phone call as soon as the news is broken, his father calling back just to breathe long sighs into the receiver, listening to Bakugo’s long excuse as to why it all happened, then from somewhere in the back, “how could you!”

His initial reaction is anger, of course. It always is with them; they have no control over his life so therefore they shouldn’t care what he does, or who he’s in contact with.

But then the reality sinks in. Two, three weeks later, after days of ignoring them alongside everyone else, trying to forget the memory of how he promised them he’d never hurt you or let you go, surviving off of only the rotting vegetables in his fridge and with the distraction of working coverage (his chart records reporting an all time record of capture later that year)… he realizes they’re right to be upset.

They’re right for the ways they berate him the few times he calls, picking away at what little sanity he has left without you, his father’s withered voice when he asks “have you eaten? Are you warm enough at night?” and his mother’s flaming remarks, “don’t act like this isn’t your fault.”

They’re right for way they practically ignore him when he visits home—once, to celebrate his birthday—and he finds his father has given up crochet and lace embroidery and his mother has cleared out the guest room and taken down every picture of you… and him; the only ones remaining those from primary school and before, smiling like the little shit he always was and still is (least, that’s what mom says when she notices him staring).

Then it’s months later and the reminders begin. When Koda posts pictures of you at the grand opening of his animal sanctuary agency. When he finds one last box of stuff with your name on it, and his favorite mug is on top. When his grandparents ask about the wedding and everything just starts over again. For him, emotionally (his hair only just started growing back after he started tearing it out before shaving it entirely), and his parents, too, with their melancholy looks and bitter words. He knows when people are lying, and it couldn’t be any more obvious when they reply for him, saying they’ll all just have to wait for next time.

It never really gets better, his loneliness, the ache…

But truly, no one makes Bakugo feel worse about the breakup than his parents do. Not even you, when you finally return for that last box and cry when you see that he left an engagement ring inside. And though he would’ve fought for you anyway, you (practically) have them to thank when he gets you back.

(Mitsuki cries on your shoulder the next time you see her. Masaru shows you the handmade veil.)

[gorbo-longstocking]

Wolf, Made For Slaughter

Determined to leave your sordid and less-than-legal past behind, you moved to Gotham in order to build the life you’d spent thirty-three years dreaming about. It wasn’t perfect, you always imagined yourself to be far more successful in making friends, and for day-to-day life to be easier to navigate than this — not to mention you wished your beloved siblings were here with you — but if everything was easy, life wouldn’t be so fun!

At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

[millionsknives]

this site is damn near unusable. i have a popular post from 2018 still circulating and 15 of the 16 most recent notes are p0rn bots. (i blocked and reported 1 already before i took screenshots). i used to use desktop and mobile probably like a 70-30 split but now that i have the update i haven’t touched desktop because it’s so hostile even with xkit. and i’ve always used tumblr in my browser on my phone, for TEN YEARS i have typed www dot tumblr dot com slash login into firefox instead of just opening an app because the UI is just horrendous and the app doesn’t. fking. work. i’ve been here through a lot but i’ve never hated tumblr more than i do now and staff has always been aloof but now it feels like staff has gone past not caring and into open hostility against their users. and the search function still doesn’t work

[luvrodite]

can i be a hater for a second

[despite-everything]

this is going to sound bitchy and it is. but its my blog so who the fuck cares. i am so annoyed with all the fucking x reader fic in the challengers tag right now - it wouldn't matter if people were polite and tagged it as such, but it's crazy that you have to block individual "[character] x reader" tags because people don't have the common decency to tag their fic as "x reader" generally to make it easier to filter.

[http-finnick]

still feel like asking requests is weird but i rly like ur blog so🚶

Could you do a Finnick Odair x Reader were they meet/actually talk for the first time in that scene where Finnick talks to Katniss in that horrible bare-chested outfit that makes him look like a draft and then he eats pure sugar like ew 💀 after having that weird interaction with her he comes over to us and introduces himself and is all flirty with the Reader and the Reader actually flirts back what totally startles him but hes into it and Katniss is just like ???

you sneaky mf you went to multiple writers for one request!! that's against fanfiction code!!

[crimescrimson]

Are the gifs you post free to use? I'd love to use some for my edits, but I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with it.

As long as you use them in things that wouldn't be uncomfortable for me to see, I've had people use them on like hard-core smut fics before and because tumblr sends me a notification every time someone uses them I have to see that shit 😭 Another thing I wouldn't recommend is using or reblogging my sets to negatively comment ON the set or game I made a set about in the first place. You can easily just scroll or make your own post for that instead of being disrespectful in my tags like I've had recently experienced. Aside from the aforementioned points you're good to go! I don't mind at all and I actually appreciate being asked for once! No-ones actually asked me before lol

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Fic Summary: The goat herder’s daughter, Leandra, has spent the past year of her life trying to catch the man who raped her best friend in the act. When she finally sees him slip something into somebody’s drink, she panics and overturns her plate of food onto his potential victim in order to get her out of there. Pepa, the would be victim in question, is very understanding once Leandra explains what happened. Unfortunately, nobody remembered to pass that explanation onto Bruno. Pre-Movie AU. Rape is a theme but none is shown “on-screen”. Trigger Warnings: Attempted Rape

Next Master List

CH 1 Panic! At the Quinceanera 

People often forget that Bruno Madrigal, despite having The Sight, was not actually omnipotent. He could see the future, see who was going to go bald, get fat, the exact time and place of your beloved goldfish’s demise; but, he couldn’t see through walls.

Which is for the best, really, mostly because people already thought he was creepy enough as it is. But even more importantly, if he’d seen through the walls of Señor Sanchez’s house on the night of Gabriele Sanchez’s quinceanera he would have known that when Leandra, the goat herder’s daughter, dropped a plate of food on Pepa’s lap she was actually doing Pepa a huge favor.

If he’d seen through the walls, he would have seen Cicero, Pepa’s current crush/almost boyfriend, prepare a drink for Pepa at the punch bowl. He’d have seen Cicero slip a little something extra into the drink when he thought nobody was looking. He’d have seen Leandra’s look of panic as she realized what she was witnessing.

But Bruno Madrigal could not see through walls, so all he saw was red as Cicero, Pepa’s latest crush/almost boyfriend, laughed at her. 

Pepa stared down at the food staining her dress, her brand new dress, a storm cloud forming over her head. Her bottom lip wobbled but she clenched her jaw and turned a glare on the woman and the overturned plate in her hand.

Leandra leaned down and hissed something to Pepa, Bruno couldn’t hear what she said, but he saw the way Pepa’s face fell as she looked first at Cicero, who was bent over double, then at her half empty drink.

Cicero’s bark of laughter had drawn the attention of the other people standing in the Sanchez’s garden. As heads turned their way Pepa’s cheeks reddened and the cloud over her head began to drizzle. She glanced around, looked at Cicero, then looked to the woman standing over her. 

“I’m so sorry Pepa,” and she sounded so genuinely sad that for a second Bruno’s anger abetted, but then she finished, “I tripped.”

Bruno expected lightning to flash at this blatant lie, he expected Pepa to shoot to her feet and call the other woman out, he moved to stand behind her left shoulder, mirroring Julieta who stood behind her right. They both crossed their arms and glared at the lying witch, ready to back their triplet up in whatever fight broke out.

“That’s ok,” Pepa said, slowly rising to her feet and brushing the food off her lap, “I-it’s not your fault.”

Bruno exchanged a shocked look with Julietta who opened her mouth to say what they were both thinking, “But she-.”

Pepa held up a hand with a small shake of her head, “I better g-get home and wash this stuff off.”

“I’ll walk you,” Cicero offered immediately, having reigned his laughter in and slapped on a charming smile. Bruno frowned at him, he figured the least the man could do was apologize for his initial reaction.

He was so busy frowning at Cicero that he missed the way Pepa paled at the offer.

“No,” the lying, envious, witch, yelled as she turned quickly to Cicero, “I need… I was actually coming over here to discuss buying some of your father’s wine for an event. An event to um… sell more cheese.”

Cicero smirked, clearly coming to the same conclusion that Bruno had, that she had spilled her food on Pepa specifically to steal Cicero’s attention for herself. 

“Oh, but I-,” Cicero started to say, holding a hand out to Pepa. Pepa gulped as she looked in between Cicero’s hand and the goat herder’s daughter.

“Wanted to dance? Great! We can dance,” she put herself between Cicero and Pepa, snatching up his hand.

Bruno felt his lip curl in disgust, this time he was the one who opened his mouth to say something to the lying, envious, conniving witch.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Pepa said, cutting Bruno off as she strung her arm through his, “Bruno, Julietta, will you two walk me home.”

“Of course,” Julietta said, with one more glance at Cicero and the lying, envious, conniving, horrible, witch that had attacked their sister. 

Bruno just glared at the couple as Pepa tugged him away, even craning his neck to send one last dirty look at the lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, witch as she smiled nervously at Cicero. When they were clear of the party, Pepa’s drizzle turned into a downpour, soaking all three of them through. Julietta softly asked why Pepa hadn’t wanted to call the other woman out on her lie but the only answer she’d received was a quiet sob. They’d walked through the village, which was thankfully empty due to everybody being at the party, in somewhat awkward silence only broken by the occasional crash of thunder.

“A-at least the rain should keep the stains from setting,” Bruno said, as Casita came into view.

Pepa laughed wetly, then sucked in a breath, “God, I’m so embarrassed.”

Cicero had been pushing at her boundaries lately, asking for a more physical relationship than she was ready to give him unless he made some sort of commitment to her. There had been a time or two where she’d had to physically push him off of her, aided by the wind at her command. Both times it had happened, he had seemed apologetic, told her he was just so crazy about her he had gotten carried away. 

Whenever she had asked why he hadn’t committed to being in a monogamous relationship he had had so many answers ready, each more logical sounding than the last. Pepa had started to think that she was being crazy, asking for him to commit without any promise that she would make it worth it for him.

She had ignored so many red flags. She felt like such an idiot.

“Pepa, no, you have nothing to be embarrassed about! That, that… absolute puta is the one who should be embarrassed,” Julietta jumped to reassure her, Pepa shook her head and said something that was swallowed up by the sound of thunder.

“I’ll wash the dress,” Bruno volunteered, the moment they crossed through the threshold of their home, “m-make it like tonight never happened.”

He usually hated doing the laundry, mostly because it was the chore he got stuck with the most. He’d complained to Felix, when the slightly older man had stopped by to drop off an order of corn flour, and Feilx had asked if Bruno was good at doing laundry. Bruno had reluctantly admitted that stains bothered him, and even though he was bored of the task, he couldn’t bring himself to do a bad job because then he would have to put up with seeing the stains. 

“Well, there’s your problem right there, hermano,” Felix had said, patting Bruno on the back.

Bruno liked Felix, most people did, but Bruno privately missed the days when Pepa was too busy pining over Felix to waste her time on idiots like Cicero. Ah, to be twelve again.

Pepa nodded sullenly, “Thank you Bruno. Julie, w-will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Julietta said, “would you like anything to eat?”

Pepa stopped abruptly at the base of the stairs, looking somewhat stricken. Bruno detached himself from her and hared off to get the wash basin ready, he heard her blubber something to Julietta but couldn’t quite make out anything other than Cicero’s name. He heard Julie’s response loud and clear, and he briefly paused to gape at her over his shoulder. He didn’t know that Julietta knew how to curse like that, it was a good thing that they hadn’t stopped to grab their mother on the way out of the party. She would not have been pleased.

Of course, in the morning, when Julietta would quietly explain the night's events, their Mama would let out a few curses of her own.

While Bruno was busy prepping the wash basin, Pepa was beginning to feel the effects of the drug Cicero gave her. The weather inside Casita grew steadily worse as the last scraps of hope Pepa had held, hope that Leandra was wrong, hope that Cicero wasn’t that sort of man, slipped away like water through clenched fingers.

While Julietta quietly handed Bruno the delicately embroidered dress for him to wash, Pepa laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling and tried her very best to hold onto consciousness. The weather calmed as her attempts failed.

Bruno had started to hang the now clean dress up on the line, by the time Pepa regained a semblance of consciousness. And that was only because Julietta had shook her awake in order to offer her a bowl of arroz con leche. Upon realizing how truly helpless she was, how horribly wrong the night could have gone, Pepa summoned a great tornado that patrolled through the courtyard and corridors of Casita. Bruno extended his neck to look into the house at the perilous wind, then added more clips to the dress. He threw some salt over his shoulder then knocked on the nearest piece of wood, before finally sending out a little prayer that the dress would stay put. 

He wasn’t sure what saint to pray to for laundry related concerns, but he figured at least one of them must know the frustration of coming back to the clothesline to discover that your previously clean clothes had fallen in a mud puddle.

The tornado faded as Julietta reiterated her promise to stay with Pepa all night. There was nothing her food could do to cleanse the drug from Pepa’s body, but she could help heal any lingering after effects Pepa might feel in the morning.

“Ros- Rosalie,” Pepa slurred, “this happened to Rosalie last year.”

“It did,” Julietta whispered, calmly petting her sister’s hand.

“Everybody thought- Padré g-gave that sermon about alcohol.”

“He did.”

“She was telling the truth.”

“She was.”

Rosalie had woken up naked in a haystack in her family’s barn. She had been found by Florez, who worked for her father. When asked, she had sworn up and down that she hadn’t touched a drop of liquor and had left the party by herself the second she had started to feel a bit tired. Her friends had corroborated her story, but there was no denying the hand shaped bruises around her hips, or the baby she gave birth to nine months later.

When she had started to show, Rosalie had sobbed and begged her father to believe her, to help her figure out what had happened that night. He hadn’t. He had thrown her out and she had become a cautionary tale.

Alma had taken the girl in and made arrangements for her and her child to live with Señora Ruiz, the kindly old weaver who was in need of an apprentice. Rosalie barely wandered into town these days, unless it was for church. Even then, she usually arrived as late as she could without being rude, and left just as quickly.

It wasn’t that Pepa and Julietta hadn’t believed Rosalie, after all, both Mamá and Bruno took the woman at her word, why should they do any different? It was just… hard to accept that anyone in Encanto could do that to another person.

“They were friends, si?” Pepa asked, massaging her temple. It hurt to keep her eyes open. 

“Rosalie and…?” 

She gestured down at her lap where a plate’s worth of food had provided a convenient excuse to get away from Cicero, “What’s her face.”

“Oh, si. Still are, I think, might even be closer than they were before. I-I don’t know, they both live so far out of town,” Julietta sighed, realizing she didn’t really know much about the woman that had saved her sister tonight.

The goat herder, Raul Lopez, lived in the mountains surrounding Encanto, a reasonable place for a goat herder to live. His daughter, Leandra, was technically adopted, her birth family hadn’t survived the first few years in Encanto, but he loved her well enough and had given her everything he could. 

She was a bit younger than the triplets, but no more so than Agustín, Julietta’s boyfriend. In fact, she and Agustín were friends, weren’t they? Good friends, the last time she’d seen the two talk, Agustín had called Leandra “hermana” and he seemed to mean it.

Other than that, all Julietta knew about the other woman was that she had figured out how to make fine soaps and lotions by mixing lye and herbs into some of the goat milk. Leandra ran the market stall for her father, whenever Julietta had stopped by they talked about herbs and their different uses, or Agustín, never about themselves. 

All the same, Julietta had seen Leandra and her father move to sit next to Rosalie during Padré’s sermon on the dangers of alcohol and pre-marital sex. Which was a statement if there ever was one.

“Mami believed Rosalie,” Pepa suddenly said, after a pause so long Julietta had assumed she’d fallen asleep again.

“Do you want to tell Mamá about this?”

“No, but yes.”

“Do you want me to tell Mamá about this?”

“Si, por favor.”

There was a knock at Pepa’s door and Bruno poked his head in, “The dress is clean as new. D-do you need anything else?”

“What if I asked you to help me hide a body?” Pepa managed to ask, although it took effort to keep the words from smudging together.

Bruno grinned wryly, “Then I’d ask Julietta to be our alibi.”

Pepa snorted, then sighed, rubbing at her eyes in a way that Bruno mistook for her rubbing away tears. In truth, her head was beginning to pound from the effort it took to stay awake. Julietta squeezed her sister’s hand, then turned to Bruno.

“When Mama gets back can you let her know that I need to talk to her about something important? In the morning.”

“Claro,” Bruno nodded, “anything else?”

“There’s some extra arroz con leche in the kitchen if you want some,” Julietta offered softly.

“Have you had any?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll bring you some. Pepa?”

Pepa grunted and shook her head. Bruno took this to mean that she was too upset to have more of her favorite dessert, he sighed and told Julietta he would be right back. By the time he arrived with a bowl of rice pudding for Julietta, Pepa had succumbed once again to the effects of Cicero’s drug. He decided he wouldn’t risk waking her but dropped a light kiss to each of his sisters’ heads.

Julietta squeezed his wrist and gave him a tight but warm smile, she was too caught up in thoughts of poor Rosalie for it to occur to her that Bruno didn’t actually know what was happening.

And because it didn’t occur to her that Bruno had no clue what was really going on, she didn’t tell him.

Meanwhile, Bruno sat down in the chair closest to Casita’s front door with his bowl of arroz con leche and continued thinking about the same thing he’d been thinking about since he’d left the party. That lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, petty, witch that had done this to his sister.

Bruno Madrigal was not what one would usually consider a confident man, when he was forced to make an appearance at a party he generally remained with one or both of his sisters. Lately he’d expanded his social circle to Agustín, so that was exciting, but even that was only because Agustín was dating Julietta. Otherwise, he kept to himself, avoiding human contact as much as he was able. 

As awed by his abilities as everybody had been when he was a child, once he hit that first growth spurt, once he’d started to lose the baby fat around his cheeks, their awe had turned to first irritation, then caution, and finally fear.

Bruno Madrigal was not what one would usually consider a confident man, because most only considered him a bad omen.

He wasn’t a violent man either, although his head danced with fantasies of throwing whole buckets of food onto the lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, petty, desperate, witch. Unfortunately, the thought of attacking another person in any way repelled him. Disgusted him, even. All the same, his sister deserved justice!

That lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, petty, desperate… he was running out of applicable insults. And it was getting much too long a descriptor, anyway.

Unfortunately, as previously stated, Bruno mostly kept to himself and well, he didn’t know her name.

He’d been to her quinceanera, he knew he had, because Mamá made them go to every quinceanera they were invited to. And, he’d bought cheese from her stall a few times. Bruno had even given her a vision once, and her father had sent her back with a thank you basket.

But he had never asked her name.

The village was small, and she had been in the grade below his in school. He sort of assumed that he should know her name by now, and it was weird that he didn’t, so he had always avoided calling attention to that fact.

He would call her la Reina Malvada, or Reina for short, after the evil queen in the play the school children had just put on. It made sense, obviously Reina was motivated by jealousy just like the evil queen in the story. The only women in the village who could compete with Reina’s beauty were the Madrigal sisters; it was only a matter of time before such a black hearted villainess went after one of them.

Well, Bruno wasn’t going to stand for this. He may not be a knight in shining armor, or a handsome prince, but he loved his sisters. And he wouldn’t let anyone get away with attacking them like this.

Reina came down from the mountains to sell her and her father’s wares in the market every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Bruno would pay her a visit and insist she apologize to his sister and admit what she had done. And if he had to lean into his reputation as Bad Luck Bruno to make that happen? A small price to pay for his sister’s happiness.

[denwritesandcries]

THIS.

Oh my god, seeing people talk about how writers describe the reader’s appearance like; “Touches her pale skin” or “wrap hand around your small waist” or some shit like that JUST LIKE YES! Like dude I’m gonna be so honest, Im not fat or skinny? In the mix? (I have a stomach) and when I started off as just a reader and seen how the writers described the readers body made me lowkey like think and sorta insecure with my body. And that’s just no. That’s why I love plus size reader or when the writer just doesn’t even describe the writers appearance to an extent (Talking skin color etc yk what I mean) but yeah just a little rant from me! 😭