#it happens rarely but i like some sort of a reminder that i have the ability to connect with people. i am still human!!! godddddd

[saulocept]

an introduction to intimacy (i)

pairing: botw! link/f(reader)

rating: m

summary: You knew what you were getting into when you first married him. You just didn't know it'll be like this. Luckily, or unluckily, he's there to refute it.

notes: there's a hint of spice near at the end, but it's nothing too explicit. there might be a sequel, depending on the inspiration.

Marriage isn’t easy. You’ve always known that, of course – some sort of knowledge hidden in the depths of your mind, vague enough to never cross your thoughts. Until now. If you’re perhaps smarter than you’d been, you would’ve thought twice before jumping into it and agreeing. You’ve got a general idea of what you’re getting into: your new role as a wife, the responsibilities expected of you, but you’ve never once thought it’ll be this exhausting.

If you’d known any better, you wouldn’t have jumped into it as easily as you had. Blame your mother for instilling all these ideas onto you, and blame your friends for romanticizing the Hero of Hyrule. He’d be a perfect husband, they’d told you. With how sweet and caring he is to strangers – people whose name he doesn’t even know, imagine how sweet he’ll be to his own wife. Bah. You’d imagined, indeed, and now you regret it. Not that it isn’t too late for regrets, but still. It’s not like this is something you’d wanted to happen in the first place. This has been, after all, a marriage of convenience, rushed and impulsive, something you had actually no say in no matter how much your mother tries to pretend otherwise. It hadn’t been your idea; it had been your mother’s, tinged with desperation as she tried to find a way to settle your father’s debts after he ran away from your mother and you, eager to hide and start life somewhere else.

Looking back at it now, it’s a bad idea, but at the time, there’s very little you can do. Stuck in a house where your mother resents you for reminding her too much of the man who’d left her, the choice had only been to get away. And so you’d agreed. The marriage had been quick, private, with little ceremony. Attended only by your mother and a handful other villagers, there were no vows spoken, no kisses shared. Everything was stiff and formal, quick and hasty. Before you know it, you’re being driven off into Hateno Village, with all your belongings packed into a single rucksack, your old life growing further out of reach with each second.

Three year later and you’re stuck in a house as cold and hollow as the one you’d left behind. You doubt there’s any real love involved between you, not even an ounce of fondness or attraction. It’s not that Link isn’t nice. He’s nice, exactly like a hero is nice. He’s helpful, considerate. He washes the dishes, puts them back the same way you’d left them. He fixes his bed every morning so you don’t have to. He doesn’t leave any mess behind for you to clean up. He’s exactly how your friends describe him – the ideal man, a hero.

But they don’t know that he could be distant too, cold as ice. Perfect and flawless. Like a statue, meant to be admired only from afar. This close, everything you know about him falls apart. He’s like a ghost in your home, a phantom presence you’ve learned to coexist with in the course of three years. He wakes early in the mornings, long before you, and sleeps late at nights, in the room across from you. He’s never around enough for you to share your meals with, or for you to get to know. You can’t remember a single time where you’d sat across from each other on the dinner table and talked. Even when the two of you had shared your meals together, which was rarely, perhaps a once in a blue moon occurrence, he was quiet, mostly just keeping to himself. He’d eat his meals in silence, and you’d do the same, listening to the clatter of the tableware as you do so. Some days, when you’re feeling particularly friendly, eager to get to know him on a more personal level, you’d strike a conversation, telling him things about your old life, asking him about his own in turn. He’s never offered much about himself, and after a few times, you’d finally given up on your attempts to get him to open up to you more.

But he listens. He always does, even as you ramble on with your mouth full of food, getting carried away with a that he hasn’t asked for, or even cared enough to know. You wonder if he finds your life more interesting than his – highly doubtful and you’re sure of that, or if he’s just humoring you, trying to be polite to make you feel better, but he listens. Or maybe he just knows how to look like he is. With how quiet he is around you, you never could quite guess what he’s thinking. Or feeling.

 Even now, if pressed, the only thing for certain that you know about him is that his name is Link, and that he’s the Hero who saved the world from the Calamity a hundred years ago. Things that could be found just from listening to the people alone. Nothing personal, nothing intimate. You never knew how he was raised, never knew the kind of village he’d grown up in. The things he likes. The things he dislikes. Whether or not he’s really okay with this arrangement.

You do know, however, how he likes being away from home. Years of observation have made you jumped to that conclusion, at least. You could almost count the hours he’s here in your home – his home, one that he’d graciously shared with you; just one, sometimes three, and only to rest and recuperate. He never stays the whole day, not even a half. Most nights, he doesn’t come home at all, preferring to spend the rest of his days elsewhere, without your company to keep him.

Not that you could blame him, of course. He was probably forced into this as much as you had been, and the only reason he’d agreed with this was because he was too nice and couldn’t find it in his heart to say no to your mother, with her crying and whimpering. Oh, well. You suppose there are worse men out there for you to marry. At the very least, he doesn’t hit you. Or scream at you, or take his anger out on you in all the worse ways one could imagine. You’ve heard of tales from your old village, where women escape to get away from their husbands’ anger. You suppose it’s only luck that you’re not considering the same course of action.

Still, that doesn’t make this life any less lonely than it is. Surrounded only by women your age, married happily to their own husbands, sometimes even with children on the way, makes you feel envious. All your life, you’d never imagined you were going to be married to anyone, preferring to live a life of solitude and freedom, but now that it’s the kind of life you live, you can’t help but feel some kind of resentment. How different your life would’ve been had you married for love and not convenience? If you’d listened to your heart instead of your mother?

Two years ago, back when you were younger, more impatient, you were certain you would’ve been happier with running away, living somewhere in the woods, alone and free. As old as you are now, you’re not so sure anymore; besides, it’s already too late to change courses, and it’s not as if Link is a bad husband. It’s not a bad life, by all means. You live in relative comfort, and the people in the village are as nice as you’ve always imagined. You’ve got food, shelter. In fact, you even have people you call your friends now: two women around your age, married and with children, eager to visit you in your empty home to keep you company when their own husbands are away and their kids are busy with schooling. They stay until the sun begins to set, and the three of you would do all sorts of things together, trying to pass the time: sewing the tattered clothes from your respective husbands’ closets, gossiping about the other villagers, exchanging details about your lives as married women.

They’d egg you on and tease you, pressing you for more details about your life with your husband, asking you all sorts of things: whether or not the hero’s good in bed, if he’s that good of a kisser as they’d imagine him to be. You don’t have an answer for any of that, and it’s the truth; ever since the two of you had got married, there had been no chances for intimacy. You’ve never even kissed, not even once, nor have you ever held his hands in yours. The most he’s ever given you as an act of affection is a nod and a polite smile – which isn’t an act of affection at all, according to anyone who’s ever had a shred of romance in their bones.

Realizing you’re speaking the truth, your friends give you a look of sympathy. The teasing soon turns into consolation, and you can’t tell which is the worse. He's just busy, they tell you. Maybe he just doesn’t have the time; he’s a hero, after all, and a knight too, at that. He’s already got so many things on his plate. You know all of this, of course, and more. They always forget to mention how this is a transaction, a marriage of convenience, something he doesn’t even have to like, or even reciprocate. Or maybe they’re just trying to be considerate, not mentioning it in your presence. Everyone in here has no doubt learned of it; it’s not as though it’s a secret anyhow. Not like it changes anything.

-

It shouldn’t be surprising to learn that he’d do something like this. It should be unthinkable, to discover that someone like him would cheat, but the truth sits in front of you nonetheless. There’s no refuting it, not when all the signs are here, flashing in front of your eyes. How he never seems to be around lately, how his clothes seem to smell differently now, not like the usual, at least, and certainly not the one you’ve grown to memorize. The red marks at the collar of his shirt, obvious to nearly no one else but you. Isn’t this, too, a kind of truth?

Still, you’re not sure why you care. There’s no reason why you should feel this way, as though you’ve been hollowed out and left empty. No reason why dread sits in the bottom of your stomach, heavy like lead, or why your heart hurts, as though a thousand needles pricked it all at once. It’s not as if he owes you any loyalty, and it’s not as if you love each other. You’ve established that, early on in your marriage. You’ve never talked about it, not explicitly, but it’s always there – a lingering knowledge, something you both know but have never said out loud.

And yet it doesn’t stop you from feeling this way. You’ve tried to rationalize it, sitting there on the dinner table, holding his tunic in your hands, glaring at the very obvious lipstick stains on the collar, feeling both angry and heartbroken at once. But there’s no reason to, you know there’s no reason to feel like this. You don’t love him, you’re sure of it. You can count all the times you’ve shared a conversation with him with one hand, and it’s not enough to justify whatever feelings of possessiveness you have over him. As far as you know, he can do whatever he wants. And so could you, for that matter.

And yet it doesn’t stop your heart from hurting. Nor does it make your anger abate even for just a second. You hold the tunic tighter in your hands, glaring angrily at it, not sure what you want to do with it. You’re meant to sew it, initially; it had looked to be in poor condition the first time you’d laid your eyes on it, tattered and ripping at the seams already, but now you want nothing more to do with it. Another irrational thought, one you’re supposed to quell, crush beneath the weight of all your other worries.

You exhale a breath, stand up, leaving the tunic where it is as you fetch a drink.

-

He comes home for dinner that night. Another rare occurrence, one you don’t even dream of happening, especially now that you’ve learned of the truth. You imagine he’ll be out and about at this time, busy making love to whatever mystery girl he surrounds himself with. Wide-eyed, naïve. Doe-like and innocent, she’d be younger than you for sure, this mystery girl whose only mark of existence is the lipstick stains she keeps leaving on your husband’s clothes. Even just the thought of her makes you annoyed, though you’re not quite sure why.

You’re quiet as you serve dinner, quiet even as you sit across from him and eat. Normally, you’d at least try to make some conversation, just to ease whatever awkwardness lingers in the air. He wouldn’t speak, like always, though he’d listen to you go on about your life even if he’s heard the same story more than once. But you don’t. Not this time. With your mind circling back toward this so-called mystery girl, you can’t even bring yourself to speak. Or enjoy your dinner. Each bite seems almost bitter, the taste of blood lingering on the tip of your tongue long after you’ve swallowed a spoonful down. It takes you more than a few minutes to realize that you’ve been biting your tongue this whole time, stewing too much in your own jealousy to pay proper attention to your meal. Hurriedly, you excuse yourself, grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to wipe at your mouth.

He doesn’t say anything as he watches you go, though you could feel his eyes on your back, eyeing your every move. You don’t have to look back to know that he wears the same expression as always. Opaque, unreadable. Far out of your reach.

-

You find him in your room after dinner. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hands on his lap, staring at something on the floor. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks like he’s deep in thought. You lean against the door, cross your arms over your chest. Taking a glance at your surroundings, just to confirm you are indeed in the right room, you clear your throat, catch his attention. “This isn’t your room,” you say stiffly, your voice flat, empty.

He looks up at the sound of your voice, eyes boring straight through yours. The blue of his eyes seems even brighter in the semi-darkness, piercing as he continues to stare at you, through you. Does he know then? Does he know that you know? Does he know how you feel about it? “I know where my room is.”

You raise an eyebrow, purse your lips together. “There’s no reason for you to be here.”

He shrugs, looks away, casts a curious glance around him. He takes it all in, at once, as if for the first time. “I came to visit.”

You frown. He’s never come to visit your room before, at least not when you’re around, and you can’t imagine why he’d want to now. Not when he has something else to keep himself busy – someone else. “I don’t see why there’s a need to.”

His voice grows quieter, nearly a whisper. Still, every word rings loud against your ears, echoes and reverberates in the hollow of your soul. “I came to check up on my wife.”

The words catch you off-guard, and for a second, your mind blanks out, unable to find the right words. He’s never referred to you as such before; you can’t confirm if he’s ever done so in front of other people, but it’s not as though you’re outside often enough to ask. And even if you are, it’s not an appropriate question. Still, that doesn’t make you any less surprised. “Your… wife?”

He nods his head, gives you a lopsided smile. You’ve only ever seen this smile of his on a handful of occasions, and it always makes you feel conflicted each time. A flutter in your heart, a knot in your stomach, a sudden jump in your pulse – things you could never quite explain how, note even to yourself. “There’s only one of her, isn’t there?”

You snort, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, your words. “I don’t appreciate you thinking you could fool me again, mister.”

“I see.” His voice grows quieter, softer. He lowers his head, stares at the floor. He doesn’t speak for a second, and once again, you could never quite tell what he’s thinking. “That’s why you’ve been quiet.”

You scoff, feeling your temper rise at his sudden shift in attitude. Still, you’re careful to keep your voice flat, refusing to give in to the heat of your anger, the excruciating burn of your jealousy. “I don’t think you know me as much as you claim to.”

He lifts his head, looks at you. He meets your eyes this time, and something in his gaze pins you to your spot. You’ve never seen him look at you this way before, and something about it makes you yearn for it and deny it at the same time. “I’ve watched you,” he says. His voice is calm, steady. Soothing, almost, though it only does the opposite for you. “You didn’t see me, but this afternoon, after you ate your lunch, you laid on the couch and napped for an hour.”

You shake your head, look away, crossing your arms over your chest. “You watching me like a stalker doesn’t prove you know enough about me.”

He doesn’t falter. “You take your coffee with three sugars and no less because it’s too bitter for your taste.”

He’s right, like he’d been right the previous time, and yet the same problem remains. You exhale a sigh, growing more exasperated by the second. “I don’t see what that has to do with any of this.”

His eyebrows furrow. A hint of irritation flashes in his expression, rare and quick as a lightning bolt. Frustration creeps into his voice, makes it rise just the slightest bit. “That I know you as much as I claim to.”

You shake your head, exhale another sigh, shoulders slumping in resignation. There’s no point to this argument, is there? The boundaries of your relationship had been clear from the start; you knew what you were getting into the moment you’d agreed to the marriage. “Even if you do, we’re still strangers.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he stands up, takes a step forward, and another, then another. Until he’s standing in front you, just barely out of reach. “Are we?”

“Yes.”

He takes another step, closes the distance between you until there’s none. “Even if I know everything about you?”

Does he? Even the thought seems almost unbelievable. Laughable, too. He has too much on his plate to bother learning everything he can about you. And even if that were true and he truly did do all of those, what difference would it make? Still, you can’t help but be curious, one eyebrow raising as you keep your eyes on him. “And what do you know about me?”

He nods, smiles. A different kind this time – tiny, a subtle twitch at the corners of his lips. One you’ve never seen before, and yet one that sends an unexplainable thrill through you. “That you’re jealous.” It’s a statement, a simple fact, one that makes your ears burn in offense.

“There’s no reason for me to be,” you snap, glaring at him. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you take a step back, attempting to mask it in the semi-darkness of the room. He follows after you, takes another step forward when you take a step back, refusing to let you maintain that distance you’ve been trying to keep. The game continues on for approximately a minute before you finally hit the wall, rendering all chances of escape null. You glare at him instead, annoyed at the look of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I know what I got myself into when I agreed to marry you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look,” you begin, taking a step to the side, refusing to play his game any longer. He doesn’t let you, stops you before you can go any farther, placing both his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. “I’m not sure why you’re here in my room right now, but I’m not going to be your entertainment tonight just because you’re lonely and in mighty need of company.”

He looks almost surprised at your implication; you catch the widening of his eyes, the shock that flickers behind them, just briefly before it fizzles out, disappears once more. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

 “It’s not worry,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Has he always been this annoying and you just never even know it? Is this a side of him you would’ve killed to know a few years back? You would’ve been certain of the answer years ago, but now you’re not so sure. Everything’s too confusing, conflicting, and you’re not sure what to think, especially not when it comes to him. “It’s called—”

“Jealousy,” he finishes for you. He gives you another small smile, and it looks smug, victorious. You’ve half the heart to wipe it off, and the other half to kiss it away. You’re not entirely sure where the thought comes from, and it makes the heat in your cheeks rise, grow warmer.

You glare at him instead. It’s easier to mask whatever embarrassment you feel with anger; it’s familiar, comfortable, and it’s something he expects. You open your mouth, try to protest, but he stops you this time, refuses to let you speak. He shakes his head, presses a finger against your lips, shuts you up. His smile grows wider, and he leans down, close enough that he could look you in the eye. This close, the blue of his eyes seems infinite. Mesmerizing, as though it would swallow you whole if you forget to look away. He removes his finger from your lips, moves to cup your cheek, cradling it in his hands. Your vision swims. Your breath steams. Your heart stops. There’s a split second where everything grows still as he touches you for the first time.

Every feeling after this is magnified. The warmth of his hands burns like liquid heat against your skin. Your flesh sings. Your bones ache. You feel like a livewire at this moment, coiled and very much alive. You fear you’ll explode, turn into sparks if he touches you any longer.

You take in a shuddered breath, lifting your head just a bit, enough to meet his gaze. When he looks into your eyes, could he tell how badly you enjoy this? How much you’ve yearned for it, subconsciously, and in secret? Whatever he finds there must not be satisfactory enough because he’s leaning even closer, just enough that his breath steams against your cheeks. He’s close enough to kiss, to touch, the way he never is for the past few years.

You could tell him to stop. You won’t be his plaything tonight, and you’ve made it clear from the start. Just because he’s the hero doesn’t mean you’d bend to his whims, even if he has you at his mercy. He traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and every retaliating thought in your mind disappears, along with every half-formed protest you might have. The gentleness with which he touches you opens up a valley of desire in the pit of your stomach, hollow and greedy. It makes you lean against his touch, like a moth waiting to be burned.

He leans in, brushes his lips against yours. Tentatively, like he’s waiting to see how you’d react. Seeing as you’re not pushing him away, he leans in even more, and kisses you fully. There’s hunger with the way he kisses you, mirroring the desire that sits in the hollow of your stomach. You grab the hem of his shirt, balling it into fists as you pull him closer. He responds by cupping the back of your head and pulling you against him, kissing you more greedily.

You don’t know how long you’ve kissed, but you’re breathless by the time you’ve pulled away. Catching your breath, you give him another glare – a last show of strength, even if it’s futile in the end, especially with how putty you are now in his hands. “I’m not going to be your plaything tonight.”

He shakes his head, looking almost annoyed at your comment. “You’re not.”

He doesn’t let you protest anymore. He leans down, latches his lips on your neck, peppering kisses all over: the underside of your jaw, your pulse, the curve of your neck. Your skin singes and burns with every kiss, but he doesn’t stop there. He kisses his way down: from your collarbone to the slant on your shoulder. He runs his tongue along your skin like he’s eager to taste you, and it sends another spark of thrill through you. You let out a shuddering breath, not quite expecting that; absently, you reach up, grab hold of his hair, tugging on it just so, and it only spurs him on, feeds into his ego. Impatiently, he pops the buttons of your blouse, not caring that he’s nearly ripped it off in the process. He doesn’t apologize. Instead, he moves to kiss his way down your body: the valley of your chest, your breasts, your navel until he’s kneeling down in front of you. With your skirt in the way, he’s unable to go further. Hurriedly, he tugs it down, pulls it off your ankles, then throws it somewhere in the room.

“Hey!” you protest, but he simply ignores you. Or maybe he’s just simply too far gone to care. With you left only in your underwear, there aren’t much obstructions left. He runs his eyes up and down your form, and something in his eyes makes you want to cower and hide. There’s greed in there, mixed with something else, something you can’t quite name. Hunger, perhaps? Or maybe even desire? Either way, he doesn’t let you linger on the question much longer.

He’s much gentler this time, slower than he’d been just a while ago, when he was practically ripping your shirt and your skirt off of you. Now, it feels as though he’s got all the time in the world. He tugs at your underwear, pulls it off your ankle, no longer impatient. He takes his sweet time as he leans in and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, each one leaving you more breathless than the last. Soft, teasing, each one a kind of agony that only makes you yearn for more. You’ve lost count after the first one, every rational thought pushed out by the impatience to feel something. You glare down at him, only to find him already watching you, his gaze glued to your face, drinking in every reaction you make. You’d have blushed if you’ve still got some semblance of dignity left somewhere in you.

“Hurry up,” you say, the words a breathless rasp as they spill out of your lips. He gives you a dark look, but he listens anyway. He inches his face closer to your bare cunt. He doesn’t give you a chance to complain this time. He buries his head between your thighs, catches the trickle of arousal spilling out of you with the tip of his tongue. Heat rises once more to your cheeks. There’s a part of you, embarrassed and shameful, that wants to run away and hide, push him off you. There’s another part that wants him closer, wants all he could offer. Right now, you’re not entirely sure which is which.

And he’s still going torturously slow. It feels intentional, mocking. He moves with the patience of a saint, all his earlier impatience forgotten in a flash. You hate it, but you can’t bring yourself to speak when he blows against your cunt, making your mind blank out. “Link,” you say, your voice thick and raspy. You’ve never imagined you’ll call for him like this – a mix of desire and desperation, and it’s so unlike yourself that you’d have laughed if you hadn’t been

You glare down at him once more, and you could almost swear that he gives you a smug smirk in response. He doesn’t let you dwell on it any further; he dives back in, surprises you this time, delving his tongue deep into you. A shudder leaves you, and your eyes flutter shut, your head hitting against the wall behind you. You could barely register the pain; there’s a dull throb in your head, but all is quickly lost in the sea of pleasure that surrounds you.

You tug a fistful of his hair, hard enough that it’s sure to hurt, and he responds by burying his tongue deeper, lapping you up like a man starved. Every part of you feels hot, every nerve ending alight and on fire. You should tell him to stop, but your body aches for more. Your hips buck, involuntarily, against him, and he lifts one of your legs to rest it upon his shoulder. He places his hands on either side of your thighs, keeps you in place as he furthers his assault, delving into you over and over until he rounds in on that spot that has your legs shaking, the entirety of your body overwhelmed with feeling. “T-there!”

He doesn’t stop. Eager to discover what’s made you tick, he only grows rougher, hungrier, zeroes in on that spot over and over until your mind is spent with pleasure. Your stomach tightens, coils. Everything’s too much, too sudden, and everything in you breaks at once. With a sharp cry, you fall apart, limbs shaking, legs trembling. He’s there to catch you, keeps his arms around you as he holds you steady against him, his tongue ready and waiting to catch every drop that spills out of you, his throat bobbing with each swallow.

And then it’s over, and he’s leaning back, wiping his mouth the back of his hand. You stare at him dazedly, too busy trying to catch your breath to pay him proper attention. You could barely find it in yourself to move. Every part of you feels paralyzed. Your chest rises and falls. Your mind is still empty of any thought; distractedly, you watch him as he picks himself back up, stands up so that he’s in front of you again. You swallow the lump in your throat, lick the dryness off your lips as you find the right words. Nothing comes. All that spills out of you is a breathless noise that falls somewhere between a croak and a whimper, nothing that resembles anything coherent.

He doesn’t speak either. Instead, he leans in, presses his forehead against yours, cups your face in his hands once more. You’re just about to ask him a question before he’s kissing you once more, soft and slow, coaxing. Like he’s trying to apologize. Or maybe he’s tempting you to follow his lead. You’re not sure which is which, but he’s convinced you anyhow, and so you lean in, and kiss him back.

[paleodeer]

These are interesting takes to me, because to me saying something like this sounds similar to "Anyone under 14 cannot be transgender or gay"

I understand that being a therian is a serious identity, and that kids usually don't understand the depth of it, but that applies to almost any identity label. And I feel like if we want these things (not only alterhuman identities but queer identities as well) to be more accepted in society, maybe we should stop caring about what other people (yes, even kids) identify as.

Listen, I'm not bashing you for saying this, and I also try to avoid arguments as much as I can - this is just something I need to point out because the way you two talk reminds me of how transmedicalist folks talk about trans stuff, just change the alterhuman terminology into gender and sex related terminology. The idea that an identity is "rare" and cannot be valid until you are an adult, or that an identity isn't valid if you grow out of it, doesn't really make sense to me. A lot of folks forget that identities are fluid; for some they are always there, for some they come and go. I think a lot of alterhumans can look back on their childhood and find "signs" of the identity being there. And for some ex-alterhumans, the identity really did exist and it was valid even if it did eventually fade. Now, can we not see the same happen with experiences such as gender and sexuality?

Also, certain identities just aren't as intense for some, while it is for others, and their identities are still valid. We all experience life differently! If we start talking about how "rare" and "serious" and "deep" alterhumanity is, we will start throwing each other under the bus sooner or later.

Since there's so little research around alterhumanity, how do we really know if it's as rare as we think? Yes, we're a relatively small community, but maybe it's because most people around the world don't have the words for how they feel yet.

The kids are helping in building the community. Even if the way kids express their identity is different, people around them will notice, and if there are any sort of alterhuman-adjacent individuals around the kids, finally finding the words to explain how they feel can be life saving.

Don't bash me in for saying this..but I don't consider anyone 14 or under who especially has tiktok to really be a therian.

They're more than likley gonna grow out of it. I'm not hating them for saying they are a therian but most people that young don't even know the meaning and seriousness of the identity.

[lwieserce]

Its very important to me that i for once have a roommate that i can easily connect without even trying you know. As an Issuess haver, and someone who had 7 roommates before and didn't vibe like this with any of them (the 1st year ones heavily due to how hard of a time it was for me:( ) i am very unused to enjoying people's company and them enjoying mine so it's like. I can only hope they enjoy my company as well. And i tolerate a lot of people but i really rarely like ( *or* hate). I can only hope this good energy is mutual or whtv

[medicaltechnician]

idk if its the late nights and lack of activity (my own fault) but i’ve been feeling like i need out of this friend group more and more. Idk what it is (i do, it just seems… petty and stupid. And just seems like a me problem not a them problem.)

problem ofc is that, there are a couple people i like as friends in the group. hell fuck i love them all and don’t want them out of my life completely. sort of wish that I didn’t have my ex out of my life completely. Maybe one day we can reconnect. But we both have to be more mature for that. We both need more growth. No idea how he’s doing.

I feel like I villified him a bit in my brain. Which was urged by my closest friend. Who I trust with my life so. (this was after I confessed maybe I have problems with him to to this friend. which was valid). Idk, people approach things differently. And I agree’d with my friend.

I think its a problem with how I talk. I guess I come off in absolutes? Idk. I give off, strange vibes when I talk. This tangent makes no sense to anybody but me.

But also, can’t just, drop em? They’re sort of my only friend group. It ain’t like I get out and about. I don’t mesh well with people. It sort of sucks that the most I’ve meshed well with is my ex, my bestie, and another friend. My ex is no contact so fuck me ig. My bestie is pre-occupied with other things and personally, I feel we’ve drifted a bit. I’m not too bothered by it? It’s neither of our faults, just taking different life paths. Also going from complete co-dependency to what we have now. What we have now is probably just normal friendship lmao. And then the other friend is a couple years younger than me, so obviously they do have their set of friends within their age group. Which I encourage them hanging out, like obviously. I see myself as more of an older brother figure ig. Try to part some wisdom I’ve gained. Then theres my crush and obviouslt rhats a mess, I wish I never had a crush on him so we could have a normal relationship. I wish I could have friends?? Idk. what am I talking bout?

So, yeah. I need to get out of the house more often so I can meet like-minded people (in the creative and path sense) so I can actually do the things I want to do. I don’t even need to be a producer or lead or director. Fuck I’m happy starting from the bottom and working my way up. (Ideal situation is mainly being on equal footing. I want people to give their input and ideas to my ideas, and vise versa)

[majinbangus]

will johnny ever punish simon(and how) for playing too rough with you and accidentally hurt you (yk some dog just like that) or doesnt listen to reader or makes reader upset????

follow up question if simon and reader do something and it upset him how will he handle it???

im in LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEE with ur guard dog simon and owner johnny reader

i hope you have a good day and win the lottery ❤️

》 18+ i'm glad you're liking my guard dog!ghost series! sorry my answer got a little long but a short way of explaining Ghost's dynamic with reader when it comes to punishments is that he's technically submitting, but he's also not really submissive ygm? he'll go through his punishments, but energy is very much this post. that's what im tryna go for at least -> more here

Accidentally hurting you, Soap can forgive. Ghost is always extremely careful not to seriously hurt you. Yes, he'll be rough and leave you sore or with bruises sometimes, but he still behaves much like the scrupulous guard dog he is, listening to your every command and taking care to protect you from real harm.

As Soap likes too remind you, Ghost is very well trained already, and it's up to you to show him that you can take care of him just as Ghost takes care of you. In fact, Soap is a little harder on you if he catches you slacking, reminding you that a dog like Ghost deserves a responsible owner willing to take care of such a diligent dog.

However, in the rare event that Ghost doesn't do his duty as your guard dog and leaves your side, Soap will get upset, but he would actually leave the punishment up to you (since you're technically Ghost's primary owner. Soap is there to teach you how to be a good owner) and act as the enforcer for whatever punishment you see fit.

So if you wanna make Ghost sleep in a dog crate for a week, Soap will buy the crate and Ghost isn't allowed on the bed. If you want to keep Ghost on a leash until you regain trust in him, Soap is gonna do some leash training with Ghost.

For more sexual punishments, Ghost will be kept in a cock cage for a while so the most he can do is mindlessly rut against you, and Soap will be the one to hold the key to his cage. He'll only unlock Ghost if you say so, but he'll also encourage you to keep Ghost locked because he's a shit he wants you to be a firm dog owner and not give in to Ghost's dog brown eyes that you've developed a soft spot for. When that happens, Ghost might bare his teeth at Soap because he knows what he's doing, but won't do much more because he knows Soap would suggest a cock gag next, that fucker-

(also if you wanna spank Ghost, Soap is will enforce that too)

But these punishments are rare and far in between. Ghost is very disciplined, so they don't happen often, but when they do, Ghost will go through them like a good boy, knowing that he messed up. He'll regain your trust and be an even better dog for you.

Now if you and Simon do something that upset Soap, (like for example, exploring a dangerous alley willingly, even though Ghost told you not to go in, but went with you anyway because you told him the 'quiet' and 'heel' command) you'll get the brunt of the punishment since 'dog behavior is a reflection of your guidance, sweets.'

Ghost won't get a harsh punishment, but he'll have to stay leashed to his crate, watching Soap give you your punishment which could range from all sorts of things, but mostly, it'll be Soap treating you like a dog- a puppy- to show you how to be a good owner.

He'll make you wear a tail plug and have you crawl on all fours. Tell you commands like 'sit pretty' or 'bow' or 'come'. You're not allowed to talk, only bark, and If you can't follow his commands, the longer the punishment will go and the more intense it'll become. Hell, if he's feeling generous, he'll unleash Ghost and make him show you how to be a good dog, letting Ghost correct your behavior. They may even tag team you, and you'll be aching for days, but the lesson will definitely stick.

[mixingandmelting]

Can you please write dumb and cute things batboys will do while they are crushing on reader?

A/N: i wrote something similar here and here as well!

Dick:

He grins, chuckles and, when he’s in a really good mood (usually after he had a chance to hang out with you), hums to himself a lot, whenever he’s texting you or thinking about you

It’s gotten to the point he’s treated as a creep by his teammates and family, catching him in the act when he’s on his phone and his thumbs won’t stop moving or looking a little too daydream-y whether it’s on a mission, working at the tower, or resting at the manor

Constantly mentions in you in conversations in his circle of those he’s closest with when he’s being teased where it makes the person regret their actions as they get annoyed with the amount of him talking about you

Sometimes follow you around out of curiosity of your daily life when he catches you out in public

Most times it’s not really following you but more of him trying to catch up and chat with you as he chases you across the roof before jumping down and striking a conversation. Again, though, when he’s feeling curious on top of his desire to ensure you’re safe, it happens

Jason:

All the books he had been reading including Art of War by  and The Republic  are put to the side as he starts drifting back to the good ol’ classic romance starting with Pride and Prejudice

On top of having the feelings, he uses them to research the best strategy to get close to you physically without being obvious to you or the others

Goes through mental imagery next and all sorts of training before he does it the next time he hangs out with you

Literally, he had worked on how to scooch closer to you so his leg would socially acceptably and ever so slightly touch yours for ten days prior 

Made a really tiny, mini collection on things that reminded him of you during his time traveling outside of Gotham from small trinkets to, of course, books

Tim:

Feels like this gets slept on a lot but with how large his range of disguises are and actually/actively uses alternative identities, he’s the one to stay on top of fashion trends so he could dress well in front of you

Doesn’t matter whether it’s casual, civilian, or even in his disguise, he puts effort into looking presentable and good in your eyes

Stays up to date with your socials if you have any, frequently checking to see if you posted anything new especially during times he’s not able to chat or text you

 Presses like on most posts you make. The ones he doesn’t press like are ones that features Damian or Jason (because he’s petty like that) while the ones that he “rarely” comments or reposts features him whether it’s civilian Tim Drake or Red Robin

He’s an offender for sneaking stuff to you either in your bags or placing them at your place with a short note, usually things you needed though pricey (e.g., camera, phone, a new blender once) or something you like to make you feel better like a bag of candy or a plush

Duke

Subconsciously writes your name randomly whenever he’s thinking about you when he’s writing anything including his notebooks a couple of times, an essay he nearly turned in ending with your name as part of the last sentence, a report to the big man himself 

Has gone to some of the Bat family members for romantic advice, trying to be all discreet about his crush. Doesn’t work as they all tease and coo at him for it, but he still end up getting good ones

He didn’t tell anyone this but Bruce is the last person to go while Dick is the best

If you write or doodle something in his notes, he ends up keeping it and not throwing it away despite having the mundane thing written on it. It’s his keepsake of you and like crap he’ll throw away something when it’s from you

A bit cringe but there are times where he would stand in front of the mirror and get caught on practicing how he would approach you for the day by his relatives and the rest of the Bat family from how aware he is of you

Damian:

Becomes just like his dad where he’s carrying everything in his pockets and belt now with things that are useful for you

Lost your pencil? He pulls one out of his pocket and gives it to you. Need candy to make you feel better? Pulls one out from his Robin belt holder

He’s a bigger fiend than Tim when it comes to giving you things mysteriously, without you knowing

He’s always leaving something for you especially when he goes on long missions, whether it’s locker, book bag, school desk, your desk in your room, on your kitchen table; the list can go on and on

Doesn’t get pricey like Red Robin, but something conveniently small for you to carry or cute to make you smile after getting tips from Dick about it

[targaryenluvs]

— TRAPPED (WORDS NOT SAID)

pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: cold!corio, murder, nc kissing, possessiveness, very controlling thoughts and actions, arranged marriage, cheating, dark-ish themes since he’s literally insane HAVE U SEEN THE BOOKS? not proof read

summary: after the 10th hunger games, coriolanus set his sights on a girl from his younger years to be his wife. disgusted by his actions and scared by the rumours your family agreed. as you realise he wasn’t the same boy from before, snow finds himself intrigued, especially when you seem to be visiting a friends house too often.

word count: 1.9k words

a/n: i don’t usually write toxic shit but like that’s the definition of snow and his cute lil intrusive thoughts so here u go 😘 this man is a bad man especially after lucy. so i find it so funny when he’s super sweet in some fics but he’s super like ooh she needs protection, oh she’s fragile you get me???

PLEASE READ WARNINGS

there was no point in crying.

you knew that.

but at the prospect of marrying a man whom you barely even knew scared the hell out of you, and the thought of not being with your albeit secret boyfriend, not getting to marry him, start a life with him? it was unbearable.

your dress was crisp white, like snow. of course.

the memories of that day were jumbled in your head, you remember being stuffed into a dress, your hair and face being pulled every which way and holding coriolanus’s hands as you listened to his vows, void of emotion in the eyes but with a slight smile on his face. you couldn’t even recall what happened afterwards. and you didn’t want to. coriolanus hadn’t even let you properly bid your family farewell before he’d sweeped you away to your new home, courtesy of your parents and the plinths.

and even if your home was cold and distant you tried your best to be nice and easy with snow. you’d wear what he wanted, did what he wanted and everything else. you could tell he found comfort in control, knowing what was happening, being able to tell people what to do. even if you hated to admit it, it suited him.

in a rare moment, his mask would slip. the mask that kept his true thoughts and emotions neatly stored away, it would fall. and you revelled in them, a genuine smile, across his face. but as soon as it slipped, his walls were back up and he was straightening his red coat and out the door.

over the next months you’d learnt to keep yourself in check, there was no point in trying to bond with coriolanus, he knew his boundaries in your relationship? marriage? whatever it was, it was just on paper. you were mere passing acquaintances at best. you’d have breakfast together, he’d leave the house, you’d occupy yourself with the house, the library, entertainment, shopping, he’d come home, dinner and then off to your rooms.

but over a few weeks ago you’d met someone new.

andrenis was insanely gorgeous, his eyes shone in the sun and his brown hair reminded you of chocolate. he was breathtaking and he loved you. it’d been so long since you felt love, pure and devoted love to someone. the vacant halls of coriolanus’s and yours home were at the back of your mind in his presence.

at first youd started of friends of course and as you continued you felt, alive. every time he looked at you, talked to you everything faded to the back of your mind. but what you didn’t know was that snow had taken note. he’d noticed you skipping out on breakfast at times, your maids always claiming that you’d been reading late, working late and so on.

working late? you were married to him, what work could you possible have? why were you sleeping so late? could you not do your reading during the day? what was taking your attention, who?

even if you didn’t talk much, let alone see eachother you were a constant in his life now. something that gave him comfort of sorts. small talk with you in the morning and night, seeing you in the halls, your laugh echoing through the halls as you talked with staff, your scent lingering in the library and the drops of blood on his roses, since you were the only person whom he allowed to tend to them.

for him, you were security.

he knew you wouldn’t leave since you had no reason to. there was no love holding you to this relationship, you had a comfortable life, your friends and family in your reach and the luxury that you lived in. you were free, in your eyes. but in reality the second your own pen touched that paper and you signed the certificate your life was taken from you. even if you didn’t know it, coriolanus had been monitoring you from afar.

keeping track of what you did, where you went, what you spent. it was all to make sure you made it home of course. nothing less, nothing more.

so imagine his surprise when he heard reports of you sneaking out of the house and returning in the early hours of the morning.

for some reason he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy in his heart. why on earth would you be sneaking out? was this home not enough? the roof over your head and the food in your stomach? the bed you sleep in and the man you call your husband. your loyalty should be unwavering yet here he was, watching you creep out of the house through the servants quarters.

his jaw clenched and his fists curled as you laid your hands against his chest, foreheads against the others. “i’ve missed you my love.” the man’s voice echoed through his head.

words he’d never said to you.

“i know, but we are together and that is all that matters. i love you andrenis.”

words you’d never said to him.

“i’m to visit district 12, my father wishes for me to visit my brother. you know what he did, his punishment was to be a peacekeeper. but his time is up and mother misses him terribly. i do not know how long i will be y/n, but i will bring you back whatever you wish.”

“and what exactly will you get from district 12 that my dear wife will will not be able to get here?” it wasn’t a question, even if it was said as one. there was not a single thing that he wouldn’t give his wife. to keep up your appearances of course, he couldn’t have you going without something you wanted.

your heart was racing and your hands sweaty as you instantly pulled away from andrenis. snows eyes bore into his, andrenis breathed deeply before speaking, “coriolanus. you look good, rising above the ranks, marrying up are we?”

andrenis layworth. not only did coriolanus despise him but he knew how he truly acted. he should’ve stayed away from things that weren’t his, never were and never would be.

“andrenis!” you scolded him, it was already embarrassing in your eyes to be caught with him by your husband but you wouldn’t let him mock coriolanus.

your husband reached his hand out towards you, and you accepted as he spoke up. “i hope your travels are safe, andrenis.” the two of you walked away, him placing you into the car before shutting the door. he tapped on the back as you drove back home, without him to your surprise.

andrenis was taken aback. in all the time he’d been with you, you’d failed to mention your husband was him. and as much as andrenis would hate to say it, snow did intimidate him. nowadays at least. he rarely showed emotion, he was always proper and dressed appropriately, but all that didn’t matter when snow had his mind. his wit, intelligence and cunning was far more impressive than most.

he’d always kept himself in check.

but as coriolanus snow walked towards him with certainty he backed himself all the way into the dark alley as he was grabbed by his collar and slammed into the wall. “my wife. she is my wife, no one else’s. just because your pockets may be deeper than mine does not mean that i won’t hesitate to get you out of my way. you could never be worthy of her and if you so much as look at her, i will make sure you will never see the light of day. perhaps you’ll have a fall, or a crash with your traitor brother?”

the mask had fallen and the only thing left behind it was pure rage.

“or maybe we’ll hang? what would that be, three deaths on your hands?” andrenis smirked as coriolanus’s face dropped. he grabbed andrenis and shoved him infront, pushing him to walk. “you’re going to district 12 and you will never come out.” andrenis laughed loudly, “such terror you impose, poor coriolanus, clawing his way to the top. marrying a woman by force-”

“on second thought.”

a single gun shot rung through the air.

“district 12 isn’t low enough for you.” snow spoke as andrenis tried to crawl away from him. “no place on earth deserves the dishonour of having you waste their resources. the air you breathe is a privilege, that should not be taken by you.” coriolanus pulled him up by his hair, “the second you decided to be with her, was the day that you died.”

andrenis’s eyes were closing, fear swimming around. but corio couldn’t bring himself to care. his mind was clouded, for once he wasn’t thinking clearly. as he walked back into the house he saw you, sat with your head in your hands, jumping up at the sound of him entering. “corio.”

his heart was beating erratically at the sound of your voice, so soft and welcoming. why hadn’t he noticed your sweetness before?

“i’m so sorry, i- i was weak. we rarely speak to eachother, let alone allow ourselves to love. with andrenis, he reminded me of it, reminded me how it felt to love and to be loved. i won’t see him again, i promise.”

so submissive, rather than standing your ground. getting angry at him for forcing you into the marriage, for not talking to you, you were apologising. whilst you may have been disloyal he saw it only as a weakness. a bad habit to which he could help, he could fix. and he knew you’d keep your promise, not because you’d try your hardest but because andrenis was a cold stiff body in the bottom of a construction site. a mugging victim? an accident? it didn’t matter how his passing was seen as, he was gone and he’d never return.

he’d made sure of it.

as he walked towards you the scene from before replayed in his head as you walked backwards with every step you took, and in your eyes he saw what he craved to enforce, terror. and you were so small to him, something fragile, in need of control and order.

“don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe, i’m all you need.” corio spoke as his face got closer. the rise and fall of your chest was rapid, your eyes were wide as you realised what he was trying to do. you quickly turned your head but he quickly forced you to look at him, fingers digging into your face, “i give you everything, i will always give you everything. you deserve nothing but the best and i am the only one who can give it to you, you need me. do you understand?” he questioned as you began to cry, you’d never seen him so unhinged. his hair was slightly out of place, a strand infront of his eye.

(zayn malik vibes)

his coat was off, most likely hung on the door way and his sleeves were rolled, his usually pristine white shirt was crinkled, dirty. what had he been doing after you left? you’d gotten your answer as your teary eyes blinked away the tears, focused on his bare arms,

blood.

“corio, please. what did you do?” you cried as his hand made its way to your neck as he pressed your forehead to his, your stomach swirling and head spinning as a sense of deja vu crossed you, andrenis.

“what i had to, i will always do what i have to. nothing is ever handed to me.”

“you didn’t-”

he laughed, “snow lands on top, in life and on you.”

(going to puke why did i write that it’s so cringe)

the kiss was nothing like you ever had. it wasn’t sweet, passionate, rather hungry, as if he was chasing you, afraid you’d run. as if you could, he’d let one girl get away and with how he looked at you in this moment?

you were trapped.

[sserpente]

A Haunted Read (Kinktober #1)

You are certain the library you work in his haunted. However, you are not certain ghosts can cast green magic and tease you like that...

A/N: Request by @blackwidownat2814. This request is so old, I’ll go stand in a corner and be ashamed of myself. *clears throat* On another note… Happy Kinktober! It’s my favourite time of the year and I’ve got a bunch of spooky and/or kinky Imagines ready to go this year! Starting off strong with Loki, have fun reading! ;)

Words: 2019 Warnings:  ghost!Loki (sort of), smut

You were certain the library was haunted. You were not imagining things. You could hear it. Every single night. A mischievous chuckle, a dark giggle, right after whatever spirit had made itself comfortable in your workplace wreaked some havoc when you were trying to get through your shift.

The concept of a library that was open twenty-four hours a day wasn’t so unusual but it could have done with some more marketing. You were alone most of the time, sorting through books, listening to music, and handling returns left over by the day shift.

Working at night was refreshing. Regardless of the ghost haunting you, you already had the story of a lifetime to tell to your future children (or well, pets). Your boss didn’t want to believe you when you claimed that Thor, the Thor, and his brother Loki had visited the library two weeks ago, searching for a rare tome for a super-secret Asgardian mission.

A selfie with Thor (and Loki rolling his eyes in the background) was now your new profile picture on all of the social media platforms you were on.

Thor was just as righteous and warm as the media portrayed him. Loki was…something else. Cautious, quiet, snarky and to be frank, condescending. Not to mention he’d been the one to show up first, catching you reading a very steamy romance novel. Damn those gods and their quiet footsteps.

You bit your lower lip and rolled a trolley filled with books to your desk. At the end of the day, strangely enough, Loki had fascinated you even more than Thor had. After everything that happened in New York all those years ago, vigilance around his person was a given. But there was more to him than that, you were certain of that. After all, Thor kept him around for a reason, right?

In all honesty, he reminded you a little of those brooding and morally grey men in the books you liked to read. Cold on the outside but a good heart hidden beneath…right? His blue gaze had lingered on you just a little too long. It was captivating, mesmerising, stunning, breath-taking…it was hard to believe it was Thor who captured all the women’s hearts. Loki was not only handsome but also mysterious. He was your perfect book boyfriend and you had not just once caught yourself imagining him as the male protagonist in your latest erotic adventure.

A chuckle. You rolled your eyes. “Who is there? Show yourself!”

Silence. Of course. You hadn’t expected anything else. Except—

You flinched when the neatly stacked books on your desk scattered to the carpeted floor. You groaned. “Seriously? I just sorted through these!”

Perhaps you should have been worried about a poltergeist keeping you company at this time of day, alone and surrounded only by rows and rows of books, especially this close to Halloween. But then again, you had nothing to fear from the dead. The living were much scarier than anything a poltergeist could come up with.

Another chuckle.

“Really funny��� You know if you’ve got something to say, say it. Maybe I can help you move on to the afterlife or something like that…” You bent over to pick up the books when you spotted a green hue flickering across the edges of some of the books, almost as if whatever had moved them still lingered on the covers.

Great. Ghost goo. Time to call the Ghostbusters.

Hopefully, the rest of your shift was going to be peaceful. You sighed, stacking the books yet again. They had to be re-labelled and some of them needed a new protective cover. If you got this done now…and the library remained this empty…you’d have enough time to finish that sexy Halloween novel you’d been reading.

After all, that was the best part of your job. It was heaven to get paid for reading. So you got to work, listening to some music to drown out the repeated chuckles. At least nothing else went flying for now. Although you couldn’t quite shake the constant shivers running up and down your spine. It was as if your body sensed another presence.

You didn’t hate it—but you didn’t like it, either.

Three long hours later, as you rolled your neck to ease some of the tension, you were done. The trolley was empty, the returns list was updated, all the books were re-labelled…and you finally had time for the steamy romance novel waiting for you on the desk.

After making some tea in the staff room, you made yourself comfortable in the surprisingly cosy desk chair and got lost in your story.

Your protagonist was about to be seduced by a handsome demon looking to devour her soul—of course, they’d eventually fall in love in the process. She was dreaming, half-awake, and then…experiencing sleep paralysis. The girl had gone to bed naked, making it even easier for the demon to tease her into oblivion.

Damn, this was hot. You could feel yourself growing wet, arousal rippling through you.

You flinched when something tugged at your hair. You flipped around. There was no one there.

The demon in the book pulled back the covers, revealing the girl’s glistening pussy to its greedy gaze.

Something tugged at your clothes. “What the…” Flailing, your eyes scanned your surroundings. Nothing. This was the first time this ghost was touching you. This…shit. “Stop it! Let go of me!”

Perhaps if you ignored it…you bit your lower lip, lowered your gaze, and kept on reading in an attempt to block the spirit out. No one liked to be ignored, right? Maybe it just wanted attention like a toddler. Or a pet.

The demon stuck out his long tongue and licked over the girl’s cunt, lapping at her juices.

It was just then you noticed that green hue of energy again, disappearing…underneath your skirt. Your eyes widened.

“W-Wait, no, what…what is…” Trying to press your legs together did nothing. The energy remained, forcing itself…you gasped.

“What are you doing? What’s happening, what are you…oh.” It did not wait for you to finish. The energy pressed up directly against your clit. A moan escaped your lips. No…no, this wasn’t supposed to feel good, what was it doing?

I-ignore it…just ignore it…just…ignore it…

The girl in the book whimpered, her legs falling open wider against her will. And then…so did yours. Fuck… You should be scared. Terrified. Instead…instead all you could sense was excitement.

You stopped reading, desperate to catch a glimpse of that green hue again…only for it to disappear. Damn it. Disappointment should be the last thing you’re feeling. And then, as soon as you brought your gaze back to the pages of your book, the pressure returned.

Oh. Oh my. Did…did the spirit want you to keep reading? And only then would it…

No. Oh no. You should not be playing this game. This was bad. Wrong. Maybe it wasn’t even a spirit after all. What if it was an incubus? What if it’d feast on your pleasure and steal your energy, your soul even in the worst-case scenario?

You bit your lower lip when the pressure intensified, sneaking its way past your drenched lips and…inside you as if to distract you from your worrying thoughts. Fuck…you’d never felt so…so full. How was this even possible?

Finally, the girl in the book opened her eyes only to find the handsome demon hovering directly above her the very moment he thrust up into her, claiming every single inch of her. And with every line you read…the invisible force working your own arousal kept stroking and teasing your pussy as if it’d done so a million times before. You couldn’t help it. You pictured Loki to be the demon seducing this girl.

Fuck it. Whatever this experience was, now was not the time for fear. You could be scared later and be horny now.

Growing hotter with every minute, it got harder and harder to focus on the text. You climbed the ladder fast, the mysterious energy pleasuring you better than any of your toys could. If it kept going, you would…you would…oh…

“I’m coming!” you yelled out, grateful that you were alone—save for the naughty ghost having its fun with you. You clenched around the energy force as you hit your climax, bliss unlike any other rippling through you. You dropped your book, your nails digging into the armrests, your head thrown back.

Your little poltergeist took its time. It did not let up until you’d come down from your high, your senses and dreadful realisation at what you had just let a ghostly appearance do to you washing away the last waves of pleasure.

And yet…you had never come this hard. If anything…this had been the most mind-bending orgasm of your life. You wanted to experience that again. You wanted to experience it again.

But, as the force slowly retreated and the green hue evaporated into nothingness, you figured it would be stupid to beg it to come back and give you more.

One thing was for certain, however. You could not, under any circumstances, let anyone ever know what had just happened to you.

The next evening remained uneventful. At first. No ghosts, no flying objects, no invisible hands forcing you to come for them. You were about to continue reading that faithful book from last night when all of a sudden, the main doors of the library opened and two now all too familiar figures walked inside.

Thor and Loki.

“Hey, you two! Any progress on your ancient Asgardian tome?”

You were quite flattered when Thor remembered your name and they both greeted you. Thor with a friendly “Hello”, and Loki with a curt nod. “No luck so far. But we have a new lead. Would you mind if we took another little browse?”

“Not at all, take your time. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Thor smiled and nodded before he walked off, straight toward the history and mythology section. Loki, on the other hand…lingered a little longer in place than he probably should have. God, even how he was standing there, lurking, observing you with those scrutinising blue eyes…he was grace personified.

“C-Can…can I help you?” you asked.

Loki smirked. “I was hoping you might be able to help me find some…lighter literature. To pass the time so to speak.”

“Uh…sure. W-what…” Oh, get it together! “What kind of literature were you thinking about?”

“I have an affinity for romance. Perhaps something along the lines of…what you read last night.”

Your face fell when he flicked his wrist and steamy erotica resting on your desk chair practically flew into his hands—enveloped in green mist.

Oh. My. God.

You didn’t get to respond. Not that you knew what to say anyway. Thor came rushing back to the front desk with an odd-looking compass in one hand and another really old book on settlements in Norway in the other.

“Loki! Loki, I think I found what we’re looking for. That thing Strange gave us is spinning like crazy, look!”

Loki didn’t look. His eyes were locked with yours still, his smirk never letting up. Fuck. Me.

“Are you quite alright, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he mused.

You gnashed your teeth, resisting the urge to growl.

Thor gave you a puzzled look. Shit.

“N-no. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Right…” Thor began, “…we’d like to borrow this one.”

“S-sure…” Snapping yourself out of it, you took the book from Thor’s hands and scanned it before handing it back to him.

“Thank you! That will be all. Come on, Loki, stop terrifying the poor girl.” Thor gave you one last friendly smile before he made his way towards the exit.

“It was lovely to see you again, pet. I can’t wait to see what book you are going to read next,” Loki said before he turned on his heel and followed his brother, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

So he had intentions to return. Fuck…you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him to.

[slashercult]

pick an image to find out how your future spouse is with you

reminder that not all of the messages in this reading may apply to everyone. so with that i urge you to take what resonates and leave the rest. don't force anything if it does not fit. this reading is mainly just for fun. don't forget to follow or reblog if you want to see me do more readings like this.

pile one

this person is obsessed w you, like they are in LOVE love. & i dont mean in like a creepy "they are never going to leave you alone" type of obsessed, more like you are their favorite person ever and they love hanging out w you all the time. some drake lyrics were coming thru while doing this reading: "everybody has an addiction, mine happens to be you." i feel like very rarely will this person ever not get excited to just be in your presence during your whole marriage. like i can still picture them looking at you the same way they did on your wedding day even when you're both old n grey. they also happen to be a huge romantic so it makes a lot of sense. whenever they have good news they rush to tell you bc they want you to be the first person to share their happiness with. they're overall very sweet, i don't see them being the jealous type - i think they trust you enough to be scared of you going off with some other person. and you'll never even think about anyone else when you're with them because they treat you so well.

pile two

this person's love language is deff physical touch and it'll show when you're around them. they love hugging you and being intimate and doing all that sort of stuff. they honestly do not care where you both are because nothing is going to stop them from giving you forehead kisses or hugs. they love the way that you smell, it reminds them of walks in nature and pieces from their childhood. they love teasing you as well, they're very affectionate w you. they're incredibly supportive and also humble. i see you both being on a ton of trips, particularly road trips, but normal traveling is also coming through. i feel this person may not be as outspoken ab how much they love you, like they won't outright say "i think you're the most beautiful person i know" to you but don't worry bc they definitely think that you are. they have a very unique way of showing their love and i feel that you are someone who tends to pay more attention to details than others which makes you perfect for this person because while others may overlook or misinterpret them, you see them for who they are.

pile three

this person is super fun to be around, like they have the best energy ever. & i dont mean in a "they're always the life of the party" way, more like they make even the smallest moments feel special. i feel like whenever you're having a bad day, this person knows exactly how to cheer you up without even trying. they're the kind of person who surprises you with little thingamabobs and trinkets all the time just to see you smile. like they'll randomly bring you food that you like without you even asking them. they also happen to have a great sense of humor (that's kind of subtle but you like it) so you'll always be laughing a lot together. they’re overall very supportive of you, i don’t see them being the type to criticize your dreams. you'll always feel appreciated bc they will never take you for granted. though his laid-back and relaxed personality are behaviors you see often, you know your future spouse better than anyone. they're very inspiring and honestly i feel like you both will work on a project together bc you share similar dreams (i'm seeing some sort of art form, probably like writing or smth along those lines)

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed or resonated please heart and reblog so i can do more of these readings.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Differnt anon but i love the swimsuit top falling off imagine, can we see it with Cater, Vil, Rook, Malleus and Lilia please?

Cater Diamond:

Cater had been mid beach selfie, striking a cute pose when he heard your cry of shock. His head whipped around and he became pink up to his ears, whipping his head the other way just to meet the prying eyes of others on the beach. He’s struggling to come up with a plan but finally points in a direction and gasps, yelling out a random influencers name and hoping their follower count was legit enough that they’d be known by the general public. It worked well enough that you were no longer the center of attention, an excited crowd forming and looking for the rare celebrity sighting while Cater rushed over to you. The crisis had been averted as you found your top, mumbling you’d just be lounging on the blanket the rest of the time. Later, when he’s sorting through his photos, he’s reminded of the moment as he caught the exact moment your top fell off, his face growing red as he hurriedly deleted the picture.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia is no stranger to accidental nudity, these old eyes have seen some things in his many years on this planet, and it doesn’t leave him feeling any specific type of way. He can see that you don’t share the philosophy of ‘oh well’ when something embarrassing happens and does his best to save you, summoning a sudden wave that crashes onto shore and almost washes away some of the beach gear the gawkers had left unattended while ogling. He walked up to you with your top in hand, humming as he did; he held up a towel to cover you while you put your top back on, chuckling as he commented he knew the day would be interesting when you asked to spend it together.

Malleus Draconia:

The storm clouds that appear just as you’re kneeling on the ground, desperately searching for your top before others start pointing you out, was a blessing in disguise. Most beach-goers are too shocked by the sudden change of weather to pay you any mind and it leaves you with plenty of time to find your top, which Malleus casually stepped over to help you with. You feel embarrassed again because a prince of all people was witnessing you in such a state, but Malleus paid it no mind, seeming more protective than judgmental in the moment. You don’t catch any hint that he was the cause behind the storm, the clouds clearing away as he helped you tie your top back on and asked if you were ready to continue your stroll in a more secluded place along the beach.

Rook Hunt:

Rook had seen the unraveling as it begun, but you had not heeded his warnings of the top not being tied securely as every time you tugged it seemed to stay in place. He kept a diligent eye on you, not like there was anything else as striking as you on this beach regardless, but he does find himself failing in his duty when you point out a group of dolphins frolicking close to shore. When he hears your gasp he already knew what happened, his brain calculating in mere seconds that the disastrous future he had predicted had come to be. With a swift movement he removes the towel from your bag he’d been carrying, holding it over your chest and requesting just a moment to allow him to find the harbinger of chaos that was your swimsuit top.

Vil Schoenheit:

This was the issue with fashion these days. There was no practicality even in swimsuits, and while Vil lacked a real opinion on most beach outfits, he found yours seemed flimsier than most. It wasn’t quite a warning but he was unsurprised to see the top had pulled loose and left you in the middle of the beach, covering your chest and frantically looking around for your top before your humiliation limit was reached. He knew you’d rather be buried in the sand but he snapped his fingers to draw your attention, telling you to stay calm as it would attract less attention that way. He walked around you and finally found it half-buried in the sand, scolding you as your panic had nearly buried the only thing that would stop the staring. He suggested a nice cover-up next time, just to have a back-up plan should a swimsuit fail you again.

[bbydoll18xx]

Guilty As Sin?

'We've already done it in my head'

Paige Bueckers x reader

I've never written anything, so this could very well be terrible, but I have a teeny tiny crush and it's killing me lol here we go!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: some naughty thoughts, ANGST, friends to lovers aka my fave

....................................................................................................

If there was one thing you had learned throughout your time at uconn, it was that it was pretty fucking difficult being Paige Buecker’s best friend. 

You had met her early in your freshman year when the boisterous blonde was partnered with you in an introductory biology course. You attempted to hold back a groan and an eyeroll as you heard your professor assign the two of you together for an upcoming lab project. You hated group projects, and even more, you could not stand the prospect of not getting a good grade in a class so important for your major. 

Paige, even as a freshman, was extremely popular. Her incessant smirk caused girls to blush under her gaze, and the boys basically broke their necks trying to impress her. She was the type of girl who knew she was hot shit.

Unfortunately, that was your type.

As Paige strolled over to where you were waiting for her, you tried desperately to ignore the uptick of your pulse. ‘Get it together,’ you thought to yourself. Girls like that should have no control over you.

“Hey, I’m Paige. I don’t think we’ve met. I would’ve remembered someone like you,” she murmurs flirtatiously, looking you up and down. Trying to keep the pink out of your cheeks and taking a deep breath, you hold out your hand and introduce yourself. 

That was the beginning of the wildly complex and intimate friendship you would build with Paige.

As a senior in college, you had learned many things: don't drink copious amounts of alcohol without eating some carbs first, avoid getting into ubers alone, do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your TA, and falling in love with your best friend is never good.

It started off innocently enough.

Paige was clingy and affectionate to those she was close with. You, being bisexual and surrounded by mostly straight people before coming to uconn, were hesitant with showing any sort of affection. You had always worried about accidentally giving your girl friends the wrong impression. Paige never cared, though, as she conditioned you into accepting hugs and tentative hand-holding. You grew to crave her warm, longer fingers wrapped around yours or her hand resting on your leg when she’s next to you at dinner or in the car. 

You had realized you were head over heels for her in your sophomore year, and the rest was history.

History you’d very much like to forget.

You were laying on the couch in your apartment. Music filled the room and you basked in the warmth of the sunshine. You rarely have moments of peace anymore, now that school had started back up.

Suddenly, the front door flung open dramatically, allowing several members of uconn’s women’s basketball team to enter as if they owned the place. 

“Hey girlie pop!” screamed KK. “We are going out tonight, and before you say no, you are coming with us.” 

“What happened to bodily autonomy?” You questioned with an eye roll. This happened all the time. Paige and her teammates had made it their personal mission to turn you into an alcoholic.

“Fuck that,” chirped Paige. “You had all week to chill, and I will not stand for that shit for another minute. Party P is comin' out in full force tonight, and I expect the same from yo' ass."

You let your eyes lock with hers. God that shade of blue made you want to drown in it, gasping for sanity as if it was air. 

“C’mon, you always do this. We’re going crazy tonight,” demanded Nika.

Pretending to think about it, you hesitantly agree. You didn’t have any control when it came to Paige. Whatever she wanted from you, she got. You chalked it up to being best friends, but your stupid brain always reminded you of the true source of power.

Paige, Nika, KK, and Azzi all celebrated as you acquiesced, already planning drink orders, outfits, and song requests at the bar they always frequented.

You sighed as Paige sat down next to you. You could handle this. You always did. Focused on anything other than her, you pick at a piece of lint on the soft green couch. Everything seemed to be a distraction from her. The heat of her body sends your pulse racing, just as it did the very first time you met. She really was an enigma.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” she murmurs softly. “Wouldn't be the same if you weren’t there.”

Taking a page out of the Paige playbook, you look her up and down and respond with an “I know.” She momentarily wears a look of shock, before her lips slide into that smirk again, and she laughs. The sound makes you want to run through a field of flowers and then jump from a building.

The pregame was, like always, chaotic, loud, and gave you anxiety. A drunk Paige was a clingy Paige, and you were not sure you could handle the extra touching tonight. One of the bottles of vodka that sat on the counter in the kitchen was beckoning to you, and you decided quickly that the only way you were getting through the night was with copious amounts of alcohol.

As you swallowed with a grimace, feeling the burn slide down your throat and settle into a warm pool in your belly, the door opened. Paige appeared, rubbing her hands together, looking like she was ready to fuck shit up. Your shit already felt ruined as you gulped at the sight of her. The black crop top she had on made you quickly spin around, shooting another shot in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the hunger that was brewing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. We don’t need you wasted before we even leave,” Paige taunts teasingly, as she saunters over to you.

With your cheeks pink and inhibitions already lowered, you licked your lips in a manner you could only hope looked seductive and put the bottle into her outstretched hand. For the second time today, a flicker of surprise graced her features. ‘Good,’ you thought. ‘Two can play that game.’ 

As Ted’s was close to the apartments you all were living in, it was decided that a walk would be more efficient than attempting to wrangle the numerous already drunk girls into ubers.

You cherished the warm breeze flowing through your hair, allowing it to briefly sober you up.  Walking alongside Azzi and Caroline, you let out another small sigh, catching their attention. Your feelings were evident to pretty much everyone except Paige, and her teammates often tried to coax you into admitting your feelings to her. 

“Try to have fun tonight. Find someone hot to grind on, and you’ll feel better,” Azzi said unhelpfully. You laughed, but it wasn't a bad idea. “You’re right. I need a distraction. And preferably someone who is not blonde,” You muttered, causing Azzi and Caroline to giggle. 

Paige’s head whipped around at the sound of laughter. She pouted for a second before bounding over to you. She secretly hated the attention you gave her teammates; she wanted you all to herself.

Paige was possessive, as well as mouthy when drunk, which could be a messy combination. But Paige did not care about being messy tonight. She wanted your attention and your attention only. She knew she could very well embarrass herself, but the desperation of needing your attentiveness was far more important. She could handle her anxieties in the morning. 

“There’s my pretty princess,” Paige announces loudly, taking your hand into hers, almost possessively. The pet name wasn’t unfamiliar. Paige called you every name under the sun except the one on your birth certificate, yet the sudden affection caused your heart to lurch dangerously.

You needed a drink.

The bar was already buzzing when you walked in alongside the girls, still being pulled along by the tall blonde. You were fortunate it was dark inside, allowing a sense of privacy to indulge in the intimacy Paige was supplying to you.

She places a hand on your waist, looking down at you. “Imma get you a drink, babe. Stay here with the girls, and do not let any creeps touch you.” You could tell the few drinks she had at the pregame were already getting to her. She was getting more proprietorial.

You nodded, but you wanted to see how far you could push her. You’d do anything for her attention, even if that meant flirting with a boring guy to test her. She was sexy when she was pissed.

You fantasized about the way her jaw clenches when she's angry, as you scoped out for someone to be the target of your favorite unhealthy game. A six-foot blonde with light blue eyes catches your gaze, and you smirk. ‘Game time,’ you think.

With a smoldering look in your eyes, and the alcohol in your veins to keep you feeling confident, you walk up to the guy and introduce yourself. You find out his name was Josh and quickly shift in closer to him, feigning intimacy you would only ever want with Paige. 

It’s not long before you feel Paige slide between you and Josh, creating the distance you wanted since you walked up to him. 

“Paigey!” you exclaim. “This is Josh. He wants to dance with me.”

You see Paige jaw clench in annoyance and she pushes the drink she brought you into your hand before wrapping her now free arm around your waist with her hand splayed against your belly. You shiver at the contact.

“Go away before I make you, bro. She’s mine,” Paige practically barks at Josh. He shrinks away with a weird expression on his face.

You weren’t sad to see him go.

“Thanks for rescuing me, Paigey,” you beam up at her and take a drink. Paige’s eyes never leave your lips as you bite them, looking around the crowded bar. Your lips are pink from the gloss you just applied, and she thinks about how they’d feel against hers. 

Paige would never admit it aloud, but she thinks about you. She thinks about your dimples when you smile at her. She thinks about your laugh. She thinks about how you taste. In her head, they are together. In her head, you are spread out underneath her, begging for her tongue, her fingers, for anything.

Paige is used to people throwing themselves at her, and the idea of rejection, especially from you, makes her shrink back in fear. 

Paige’s eyes are hazy as the dirty Shirley starts to float its way through her veins. She relishes in the feeling of lowered inhibitions and the perfect excuse to get closer to you. Paige pulls you into her to dance. With the alcohol fully in your system, as well, you giggle and seductively dance against her. You can feel the tight muscles of her abs up against you, and you swallow thickly. It's difficult to ignore the way it makes you feel hot and sticky. 

“God, P,” you mumbled against her pale throat. 

“You look so good dancin’ against me, you don’t even know, babe,” Paige replies with her signature smirk.

You could feel the boundaries of your friendship slowly stretching to accommodate the feelings of lust sparking between the two of you.

Between the dancing and the large amounts of alcohol flowing, the night flew by quickly. Soon, you were getting pulled through the door and back out into the chilly Connecticut air with Paige holding you steady. You were a notorious lightweight compared to the girls of the basketball team, and that hadn’t changed tonight. 

“P-paigeyyy,” you whined needily. “Need you,” you pouted up at the blonde. The other girls in your vicinity shared curious looks with each other. You had never acted like this before whilst drunk, and no one really knew how to respond, Paige included. 

“What do ya need from me, princess?” Paige asked with a chuckle.

You motion for her to lean down, and you whisper in her ear, “kisses.” 

“Oh? You wanna kiss me?” Paige questions, feeling all the blood rush to her head.

You nod with a dreamy look on your face. You were going to regret this in the morning, but right now all you could think about was how soft her lips looked and how much you wished you could be hers.

'We've already done it in my head,' you thought drunkenly.

Paige looks down at you with an unrecognizable look, but she presses a soft kiss on your forehead and says, ‘“let's get you home and to bed, doll.” 

As you stumble back into Paige’s apartment and onto her bed, you look up at her and raise your hands over your head, making grabby hands at her. Paige rolls her eyes fondly but helps you get undressed. Walking you into the bathroom, she lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly, helping you take your makeup off and brush your teeth.

It felt so domestic you could cry.

Climbing into bed, your drunk mind prepared itself to sleep next to Paige. It would never feel like enough to you. You wanted all of her. 

Paige lies down behind you, wrapping a long and muscular arm around your waist, caging you in just the way you like it. You are a second away from sleep enveloping you, when you think you hear Paige whisper, “I am so in love with you.”

Your heart stops.

You wake up the next morning with your head pounding. You squint your eyes and look around. Paige is still sleeping next to you. You gently smile as you gaze at her peaceful figure. You wish you could stop time to stay here in this bubble with her. Soon, you’ll go back to being just Paige’s best friend, and the relationship you’ve built up in your head will come crashing back down.

Soon enough, the blonde wakes up, ripping you from your daydreams. She smiles at you, and turns over to completely face your body. “Crazy night, huh,” she alludes slyly.

Your eyebrows crinkle in question. “Did something happen?"

“Uh yeah…you don’t remember what you said to me?” she asks.

You shake your head in confusion, but you start to attempt to recall the events of last night, and all of a sudden it comes back to you. You recall asking her to kiss you, hanging all over her, and the incessant pouting and neediness. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment, and immediately you jump out of bed to leave.

“Wait, don’t go please,” Paige pleads in a way that is startling unlike her.

You ignore her pleas, gathering your stuff and running out of her apartment. Tears burn your eyes as they threaten to slide down your face. You try to stifle your sobs as you climb the stairs two at a time and get to your own door. You throw yourself into your shower as you attempt to drown out your own cries. 

As you sat on the floor of your shower you could not believe how stupid you were. Drunk flirting with your best friend would be the end of your friendship. You could see it already. Paige coming to you, trying to let you down easy. You felt so humiliated.

You sat there until the water got uncomfortably cold, leaving goosebumps against your skin. As you toweled off, you replayed the events of last night in your head for the millionth time. The dancing in the bar, the walk back to Paige’s apartment, her helping you undress. You sigh at the idea of losing her before it all comes crashing back.

“I am so in love with you,” she had whispered into your hair. You still at the memory. Paige loves you? Sure it's common knowledge that you loved and craved her with all of your being, but a love that was requited? It was almost too much to think about. 

You grab your phone that you had left abandoned on the couch and see the messages from the blonde. Messages of regret and longing fill your phone. One more pops up as you scroll, saying ‘I’m coming over. I won’t let you avoid me over this bullshit.’ 

A few moments passed before there was a loud banging on the door to your apartment. You had never felt so appreciative that your roommates had left for the weekend. Your breath grew ragged as the door slowly creaked open, revealing a panting Paige. Her blue eyes looked almost wild as they met yours.

“C’mere, just let me explain,” she says quietly. You weren't used to Paige being quiet and almost solemn. It scared you, just as the thought of confrontation did. This was not a conversation you wanted to have. 

Fighting your own instincts to immediately bolt, you gingerly sit on the couch where she had already made herself comfortable. Some things never change.

“Listen,” she starts out cautiously. “I never want things to be weird between us. I never imagined I would be feeling this way towards someone who was just a friend, but…I think we haven’t been ‘just friends’ in a while.”

You finally allow yourself to meet her gaze, trying to search for any semblance of where this conversation could possibly be going. Surprisingly, she looked hopeful, as if she knew something you did not.

“I-i want you. Like, more than a friend,” Paige stutters out, “And I think you feel the same way. We’ve both been too scared to admit it, but I’m tired of ignoring how you literally make me feel whole.”

You blink back more tears in realization that the last three years of hell of being only Paige Bueckers’ best friend was finally coming to an end. She could finally be all yours and yours only.

Without thinking, you place a hand on her jaw, bringing her to your lips. They meet yours with such hesitancy you almost think you’ve ruined the delicate balance of what you are to each other at the moment. Paige lets out a breathy sigh and pulls you onto her lap. 

You were heavenstruck. 

As the both of you finally pull away from the drug of a kiss, you look at each other and giggle.

“So much for the dramatics, I guess,” laughs Paige. 

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Not my fault,” you pout. “I have no control when it comes to you, P.”

“Same,” grins Paige. “The only thing left to do is figure out how to tell the girls. They’ve all been beggin’ me to tell you ‘bout my lil crush on you.”

“Those bitches knew?” you ask incredulously.

“Well yeah,” Paige says. “I’m not subtle.”

You giggle at how stupid you felt. The signs were there all along, but the fear of rejection and the cloud of lust had obscured any indications of reciprocity. 

“Let’s just start making out the next time we’re in front of them and see how they react,” Paige suggests with a waggle of her eyebrows. 

You could hear the whoops and cheers already.

“Deal,” you say blissfully. 

She was finally yours. 

[lamamasjamas]

Can you write a fic where gn reader finally washes Qimir’s greasy hair after he comes home from a sith mission. Thanks ❤️

Late Night

A/n: Thank you for the request! ❤️ For context, Reader has no idea Qimir is a force user and assumes he’s just some guy that makes potions. Also I was eepy when I wrote the last part and I’m yearning for my ld bf so…

Warnings: A little heated (of the sexual type), but it’s fluffy and cute! Some angst and stuff too. 🤭

The night was still young. You were in bed, looking up towards the ceiling, the candlelight at the tonic shop's entrance still illuminating into the corner of the room further inside and past the counter.

You kept the curtain to the bed bunk open so he would come in at his leisure. Most times he was still in his soiled robes and got into bed next to you. He claimed he was too tired to wake you, or even freshen up.

You'd wake up to his hand lightly placed over your shoulder.

Sometimes your side or stomach. Sometimes squeezing, as if he wanted you closer.

But you weren't anything but a colleague. You watched over his small business whenever he was out for "ingredient collection". He was a sort of boss to you. A friend at most.

You think, considering you barely knew anything about him and yet he knew everything about you.

You often wondered where he even found such rare materials and why he'd come back so grimy.

The front door opened and the first thing you saw as you sat up was his back. You were rarely awake by the time he came back from his travels. You rubbed your eyes clean of sleep quickly and stood as quietly as you could.

But it was like he could sense you awake, he turned to you with a smile on his face, pulling his hood down to his shoulders and lifting the baggy of some root he needed for a medicine playfully.

The first thing you do is cringe, his smile falters. His hair was always a mess. He knew that himself.

You point to the washroom and rush to get a bar of soap and a rag from the drawer above his bunk before he could come any closer to his bed.

...

"What do you expect to find, exactly?"

Your lips twitch and curl in mild disgust, the strands of his hair separate from how drenched they were in dirt, oils and sweat.

"A snee nest," you muttered.

His head was leaned back against the tub, the water below steaming and warm. His eyes were closed, and a faint smile was adorning his face as he breathed in and out deeply. It reminded you of when he was napping, and no one happened to walk into the store for a couple hours.

It was relatively silent. As it usually was for you around him.

It irritated you how little he spoke with you. Then again, you weren't one to partake in conversation. But neither was Mae.

Sure, he joked and had his quirks with you. But with Mae? He was practically a chatterbox. She obviously didn't reciprocate his enthusiasm though, ever.

You refuse to ask why she would come to the shop and ask to speak to him privately every other week. You didn't want to know.

You stare at his brows, his eyelids and the bridge of his nose as your hands massage his scalp gently, using a cup to scoop water and pour it over his hair.

Your gaze led to his lips. They stay there. You didn't even notice that he was staring back up at you and that your hands had stopped their movements.

"You always do that."

You startle and pull away in surprise, but his hand grips your wrist to keep your fingers pressed against his head.

"Sorry-“

He quirks a brow and smirks, his eyes trying to connect with yours.

“what are you talking about?" you stutter at his intense gaze.

You pull away again, confused. He sits up quickly, his damp hair dripping and spraying you lightly with droplets. His tunic dampens and he crowds you as he leans closer.

He holds you in place by not letting go of your hand. He knew you would have been several feet away if he didn’t have you in his hold.

"You always... stare."

His fingers tap at the pulse of your wrist at your silence. His eyes roam over your face, his head tilts. He wanted you to respond.

“No…” your eyes bounce around the room briefly. You feel childish denying what was so obvious.

“I don’t,” you mutter, half embarrassed from being caught and half upset he even brought it up. It wasn’t his business if you stared anyway.

“I’m not dense-“

“Maybe you are,” you retort quickly, swallowing thickly after a beat as you realize that he was still your boss and you had in fact indirectly called him dense.

His laugh booms across the room. For a second you are mortified, but then you’re enthralled by his chortle. It was infectious.

You could feel yourself smile and huff, your shoulders losing their stiffness. He loosened his grip on you and allowed your hands to fall to his lap.

He sighed as his chuckles died down, he leaned closer.

“What are you hiding?” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Talk to me…”

In that moment you reminded him of a hare, skittish, cautious but very observant and curious. Stubborn to a degree. He felt you pull into him like a magnet, still unsure but very wanting.

Your noses brushed and before you could cower away he whispered.

“Show me.”

The kiss was short. He stayed still, waiting for you, his eyes gently roaming over your face as you lingered on his lips afterwards as you separated.

It was like he knew what you were going to do. What you’ve been wanting to do for a while. You yourself had barely made that discovery it seemed.

He was patient enough to wait for you to lean in for another kiss... then another... then another.

Until you had no choice but to make a small noise as his hand reached behind your neck to pull you impossibly closer.

One hand reaches your hip, the other cupping your head firmly. Your own hands move up from his lap to his chest.

He groans in approval and he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, his knee coming between your kneeled thighs.

You didn’t know whose tongue slipped first. All you knew was that it sent an electrifying feeling down your chest to you belly, your belly to your core.

His hand roamed to the swell of your ass and pushed you down onto his thigh roughly. He swallowed your moans, he wanted to devour you completely.

Your hand thread throughout his hair as if they were braided together. Droplets of water glided down your arm as a result.

His mouth followed, his tongue darting out to collect the drops greedily. You let him claw at your tunic, struggling to pull it up your shoulders to get the last drops, desperate to lick your skin clean.

One hand slithered to cup you, his hand grinding down upon your center and distracting you from the way his struggling grip on your tunic caused it to rip and expose your upper half.

The shop door slides opens quickly. The sound of a cold gust of wind makes you tense, immediately making you pull away.

His head jumps from being nestled between your shoulder and neck and he flips you to lay down below him on the tile.

The realization of your current position and state of being finally catches up to you. You could hear Mae call for him.

You feel something stiff poke at your soft stomach. A heady moan escapes your lips unexpectedly as you glance down and realize it was his swollen crotch. His hand covers your mouth quickly, his eyes neither scolding or concerned but very frustrated at the intrusion.

He calls out that he was in the fresher loudly. Mae huffs and groans as he calls out again a beat after, stating he’d be out in a minute.

He sits up and presses his finger to his lip then places it against yours with a smirk. Your eyes flutter at his touch.

The door opens and closes quick enough to allow you to see the shop lights now on.

They weren’t close enough to hear. Most noises were murmurs and mumbles. Teasing remarks made by Qimir about how he would require extra payment for the nightly visit.

The shop’s doors open and close after a couple of minutes. He comes in to see you staring at your half torn tunic, resting against the tub with half lidded eyes.

The exhilaration from before was gone and replaced by drowsiness. It was almost sunrise and you had yet to get a full nights sleep.

His crouches down before you and lifts you. For a second you question how a potions shop owner could carry you with such ease.

The sight of the bed made you quickly forget and lean against his chest. Your hands are lightly placed over his bicep as if you were afraid of him losing his grip and letting you fall.

You woke up that same afternoon with his head buried in your neck and his arms wound around your waist.

His even breaths lulled you to sleep. You snorted weakly at the sight of his hair before falling back into slumber with him.

Despite your efforts, his hair still looks like it could do with a wash. You’d bathe him properly, you thought.

—————

A/n: Reblogs and Comments appreciated! 💋❤️

[ssentimentals]

Hii can i request mingyu + hurt prompt #34? Thankssss

hi sweets! thank you for requesting, hopefully you will like it! 💜

hurt prompts: 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?'

someone is caressing your hand. it's a nice feeling to wake up, especially when you know who is responsible for said action. mingyu's face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes and you smile a little. mingyu doesn't smile back and memories of last night rush in, reminding you why you're waking beside him and not in his arms. before panic rises, you remind yourself that mingyu is caressing your hand gently now, so everything can't be that mad.

'morning,' you whisper, afraid to talk in a normal voice for some reason.

'morning.' mingyu repeats and clears his throat. 'slept well?'

you don't really remember how you fell asleep; probably knocked out from crying and fighting. arguments with mingyu were rare but whenever they did happen, they sucked all the energy out of you, leaving you drained and exhausted. truth to be told, you don't even remember coming to the bedroom, so mingyu probably carried you here once you fell asleep in the living room.

'not really,' you reply, not feeling rested at all. 'you?'

he shakes his head. when you first started dating, you both promised each other to never go to bed angry, so what happened last night is an exception of sorts. 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?' mingyu asks quietly, voice muffled by the pillow.

your mouth opens but nothing comes out. to your horror, you don't even remember about which things mingyu is talking exactly - a lot of stuff was said yesterday and not all of it was said due to anger or frustration. but mingyu is sensitive, always has been in a much more delicate headspace than you, so you tiptoe around the question, looking for the right answer while also staying honest: 'any of the mean and angry words - no. i love you, gyu, i'd never actually mean any of those. but what i said about the whole thing, like in the beginning, what made me upset in the first place.. yeah, i meant that. i stand by it even now.'

mingyu doesn't say anything at first. he just stares at your hands, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking about your answer. you both treasure honesty the most, so he knows you're being sincere. 'okay.' he settles for in the end, taking a deep breath. 'i also didn't mean everything i said after we moved from the kitchen to the living room.'

you smile and hesitantly interlace your fingers together. 'i know, gyu.'

he nods again and squeezes and when he does that, you feel like you can breathe again. if mingyu is not declining physical contact, if he's still here then you two can work it out. 'we don't have to do it now,' you say, not wanting to get up. 'we can just lay here for a while.'

sigh that mingyu lets out on this is full of relief. 'yes. yes- yeah. please.'

you both move in sync, slotting your bodies together until it's impossible to tell where one ends and another one begins. 'sleep a bit more for now,' mingyu whispers, holding you tight. 'i'll be here when you wake up.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[sincerelybubbles]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: angst, resolved angst though!! i keep promises!! also, shower scene but sfw !! i am just a slut for an innocent shower scene

part 1

Spencer doesn't come back that night and you sleep alone in the bed. It's too big, too empty, too quiet.

Your morning feels liquid without him. He usually makes the coffee, you figure out lunches. Brushing past each other, gentle hands, gentler smiles.

Everything feels hollow -- off-kilter. You're late to work for the first time in years, running behind with raw eyes and no reminders of the time shouted across the room.

Of course, you're used to the mornings that he's away. When he's in a different state you do this alone all of the time, but it's punctuated with texts and calls and promises that this isn't your new normal.

But now, the possibility hangs low over your head, a storm cloud dripping steadily over you as you work.

Annoyingly, the weather doesn't reflect your mood: it's sunny, there's a breeze, leaves cover the ground. It's the sort of weather you would convince Spencer to take a walk in. It's the sort of weather that, eons ago, he would have noticed and brought you out to walk in without you asking first.

It's not easy to notice when the shift happened. One moment he was exactly who you fell in love with: passionate about his job, sure, but equally excited about you. But, slowly, he changed. Like ice melting in water left outside, the parts of him that made every moment apart worth it slid down the glass and evaporated. The Spencer left is vacant, reading files at home even when you know he doesn't need to. He hasn't planned a date in months, hasn't texted you because he read something new that he wanted to share, hasn't seemed to see you for longer than a few seconds in weeks.

You tried to bring it up to him but the conversation was put aside because of a work call. He had to go but he pressed a kiss into your hair, hugged you tight, and promised you would work on it. Together.

That was over a month ago and he's made no effort. If anything, things have gotten worse. You can't remember the last conversation you had with him that had any true substance.

"Alright, go home." Your boss' voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you into the now.

"Sorry?"

"Go home, get some sleep, you look like shit," he says, shaking his head at you. "Don't argue, you're only missing a few hours, we'll survive without you."

Thanking him, you gather your things and begin the walk back to your car, scattering the fallen leaves with your feet.

You try to think of anything else as you get in the car, turning on music. It's hard, but you do it. You think about what to cook for dinner, what chores need to get done, mundane things that usually plague you.

You don't think about if you still have a relationship. You refuse the thought every time it creeps into your mind, shaking your head as if to physically remove the thought.

Spencer's car is in the driveway when you pull in. You put the car in park and stare at it, letting your head slowly fall forward and cheek rest on the steering wheel. He was so rarely home in the middle of the day on weekdays. You're not sure if you're ready to face him but know you have no choice.

With a sigh, you get out of the car and make your way into the house.

You can hear him moving around in the kitchen when you push the door open. Quietly, you slip out of your shoes and set your things on the table. Without saying anything, you go to your bedroom and start the shower.

You're tired of always initiating the conversations. You're tired of seeking his attention, practically begging for it, only to be shut down. Let him come to you if he's really sorry -- if he even is sorry.

You've been in the shower less than a minute when you hear your name being called. The bathroom door opens and you can just make out Spencer's head poking inside the room through the shower curtain.

"Hello?" He asks, stepping inside.

"Hi."

"I didn't hear you come in." You don't answer him, wetting your hair instead. "Can I sit?" He asks after a moment, his voice hesitant.

"Sure, if you want."

You watch as his shadow crosses the bathroom and he sits on the toilet, slouched, forearms resting on his knees.

"I was an idiot last night," he starts. You stay quiet, silently agreeing as you begin to shampoo your hair. "I can't honestly say anyone or anything is more important than my job. And I know you understand that, you've always understood that. I mean, I'm saving lives. Protecting people. What I do, it's important."

"I know," you say, softly.

"I know you know," Spencer says, just as softly, voice hurt. "But that doesn't mean you're not important or that I can treat you as less of a priority. Because you are, you know. A priority. Pretty much my main one."

You hang your head under the warm water, watching it drip through your hair and take the suds away with it. The soap runs down your arms, down your legs, and swirls around the drain. Steam lifts over the curtain, filling the air and making your eyes hazy.

There isn't much to say other than, "I haven't really felt like one."

"And I was an asshole when you tried to tell me, I know." Spencer rubs his hands across his face, voice agitated.

"What happened?" You ask, eyes still trained on the drain.

"Nothing, really. I think I just let myself get too sucked in. I mean, you've always been so consistent in my life, even before we got together, that I just sort of always expect you'll be there for me."

"I will," you admit, leaning against the wall of the shower so you can watch his shadow move as he speaks. It's true, you'll always be there for Spencer.

Spencer shakes his head, leaning forward and resting it in his hands. "You shouldn't have to if I can't prove the same is true in reverse. I should be just as consistent. I used to be just as consistent. I prided myself on how well I managed our relationship and our job. I got too comfortable, too cocky, too sure that I couldn't fuck this up that I ended up doing just that."

"I don't think you've fucked this up." Spencer laughs, low and harsh, lifting his head to look at the ceiling. "No, really. I think you just fucked up but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

"You deserve better."

"You are better, Spencer. I know you are. You're just going through something. I don't know what, I don't even think you know what, but if you let me in, we can work through it together. Just, you can't push me away."

"I don't even want to push you away, that's the thing. I can tell when I'm doing it but I can't figure out how to stop."

"Well, this is the best way to start. By telling me. I trust you. I trust us. Do you?"

"I trust you," Spencer says, voice breaking. "And, yeah, I trust us."

"Then that's all we need, no?"

He joins you in the shower a few minutes later. All innocence, helping you wash your hair and letting you wash his. The water is warm, you're in each other's spaces, not talking but just together.

It's the mundane task that truly starts to make you feel better. He's gentle as he works conditioner in your hair, eyes shut in peace when he bends down for you to run your fingers through his.

He jumps out before you to grab your towel, opening it and wrapping you up before hugging you. Warm, steady, he rubs small circles on the nape of your neck, under your dripping hair, where he holds you close.

"I was going to make dinner, I was making a list when you walked in," he says when the two of you make your way back into the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you to be home yet."

"I was sent home early because I looked tired. Well, he actually said 'like shit' but I know what he meant." You send him a sarcastic smile as you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning forward to look at his grocery list, puzzling out what he wants to cook. "What about you? Why are you home so early?"

Hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, Spencer shrugs. "Today is pretty much just a paperwork day. I got what I needed to get done out of the way and went home. The team was confused but they'll be fine."

"You left early?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and your gaze to watch him.

"Like I said, you're a priority, too. You deserve to be treated like one. I can't leave early most days, but the ones I can ... you deserve that, at the very least."

You stand, shuffling over in your socks, to hug him around the waist. His hands come to wrap around your shoulders without hesitation, smoothing over your hair.

You stand like that for a minute, his grasp firm, your nose pressed into his neck.

"We're going to be okay," you whisper, just as much for him as yourself.

"Of course," he replies.

here u guys go, luv u <3

i have something else (much much better writing quality wise imo) in the drafts so keep an eye out!! this is just a silly little thing but i still enjoyed seeing ur guys' reactions to it !!

[kaciidubs]

Cameras and Sweatpants

❣ Summary: Photoshoots, the gift that keeps on giving, and you welcomed it with open arms - and mouth. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.5k ❣ Warnings: Smut, degradation/name calling [slut], slight public sex ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: 230526 Chris [pictured], Chan is referred to as Chris and Daddy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Pretty/Dirty Girl, Slut, mention of Jisung, lightly edited, this was written almost a year ago while I was sleep deprived and horny for this specific version of Chris ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“We have 30 minutes,” Chris whispered against the shell of your ear, his hand resting against the small of your back. 

You smirked, pace quickening ever so slightly as you walked past staff members and stylists alike - a glint of mischief shining through your lust fogged eyes. “I’ll be done in 15.”

Attending photoshoots with the boys was a rare occurrence, usually only happening when your oh-so-loving boyfriend figured a ‘little vacation’ was in order - and this was one of those times.

Even if you weren't well versed with Dispatch as a whole, you were more than aware of the speculation of idols’ private lives and, more present, promotional photoshoots and interviews.

Especially promotional photoshoots that had your boyfriend in the most relaxed yet revealing outfit you’d laid your eyes on; from the white, sleeveless shirt showing off well sculpted biceps that never failed to draw attention, to the baby blue sweatpants tied securely around his hips with holes that gave peeks into what you had the pleasure of seeing daily.

All of this, paired with the borderline bedroom eyes he was giving the camera, culminated into you tugging him off the couch the minute the director gave the call for a break to set up for the next room.

The second the changing room’s door shut and the lock clicked into place, you wasted no time in sinking to your knees in front of him - hardwood floors be damned. Your mouth watered at the prominent bulge beginning to tent the blue fabric; running your hand along the outline and earning a stifled grunt in return. 

“Baby, I’d rather not stain these pants,” Chris gritted out, trying to keep his anticipation at bay as you continued palming him, “we still have the second half to shoot.” 

You opened your mouth for a rebuttal, a tease of some sort, but the looming reminder of how much time you had made it close just as fast. 

Heeding his request, your hands slid up to the waistband of his sweats before tugging them past the swell of his ass and down the expanse of his thighs, just enough to expose his boxer-briefs.

“If we were home, this would be so much easier.” Your lips pulled into a playful pout, fingertips dipping past the branded waistband before pulling them down to meet the same fate as his sweats. “I wouldn’t have to worry about this many layers.”

He scoffed, leaning his back against the cool wooden door, “If you were patient you wouldn’t have this problem, now would you?” Cocking his head to the side, he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, “But you’re just so needy for my dick, aren’t you, baby?”

A fresh heat washed over you from his words and you had to physically fight back the whine bubbling in the back of your throat - if he was already talking like this, then you knew you weren't the only needy one here.

Spitting into your hand, you wrapped it around his length and gave a few experimental pumps, relishing in the sharp hiss of air he took above you with each pass of your fist, before leaning forward to lick a line from the base of his dick to the tip.

His lips parted with a breathless, “Fuck…”, his head falling back against the door with a low thud as he watched you with lidded eyes.

You looked up at him, the smallest hints of a smirk on your lips before parting them to take the head into your mouth, lapping languidly at the bitter-sweet precum leaking from the slit. A soft moan hummed from your throat as you sunk further, eagerly welcoming the familiar weight of him on your tongue.

 It was always an effort to take him down your throat, long as he was thick, but you continued pressing on - eyelids fluttering shut as you focused on breathing and fighting your gag reflex.

“S-Shit, baby,” Chris gasped, his hand resting on the top of your head, “can’t- ah, can’t go two hours without having your mouth stuffed, yeah?”

Your left hand gripped his thigh, either as a muted response or moral support when you finally, finally, pressed your nose against the finely trimmed patch of pubes that decorated his pelvis. Swallowing around him, earning a delicious whimper that made your pussy flutter, you tapped his thigh twice with a soft hum.

He tensed, his brain short circuiting while his heart skipped a beat so hard he felt it in his throat, “Really? Y-You don’t- fuck, you really want me to…?”

Another two taps against his thigh, and you looked up at him as best as you could from your knelt position, feeling spit start to overflow past the corners of your lips.

“Fuck- You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.”

His hand shifted to the back of your head, locking you in place as he drew his hips back, a shiver running down his spine until half of his cock remained in your mouth before thrusting forward, sending himself down your throat once again.

You squeezed your eyes shut, one hand holding onto his half while the other balled into a fist on your thigh, helping you focus on keeping your gags at bay with practiced breaths.

Chris kept a few more slow, manageable thrusts before turning up the pace; his cock leaving your mouth a little more each time before sliding its way back into your throat, ragged pants tumbling from his lips as he fucked your mouth.

It was dizzying, the way your muscles constricted around his girth while your plump lips were slicked with bubbling saliva - it wasn’t anywhere close to how your cunt felt, but it was still bringing him to his end just the same. It also didn’t help that soft moans were interspersed between your muted gags; the thought of you getting off on him using your mouth like a fleshlight making his grip tighten and his balls swell.

“T-Taking me so well,” he gritted, breaking out into a small sweat, “so needy for me you can’t even suck me off by yourself - need me to help you, huh? Need me to- fuck- to use this throat of yours like the slut you are.”

Your nails dug into his calf and he chuckled, a short, husky sound that had your pussy clenching around nothing, your panties sticking like a self-imposed punishment.

“My little slut, yeah? All mine?” Sucking in a sharp breath, his hips stuttered, “A-All mine to use - daddy’s pretty, dirty girl.”

Blinking away the tears blurring your vision, you angled your head up just enough to gaze at him through your eyelashes, and the sight you were met with had you rocking your hips in the open air - desperation taking over your rational thoughts in hopes of an odd rotation to get something to grind against your aching cunt.

Pupils blown, the ends of his hair sticking to his forehead,the glow of sweat shining down the curve of his neck, pretty pink lips parted and shimmering from the gloss the makeup artists coated them in, and brows furrowed with a focus you’d seen time and time again - he looked delectable.

“S-Shit- I’m close, baby,” panting, Chris looked down at you with worry flashing in his eyes, “Wh- Mm- Where do you want it?”

Answering his question as best you could, you squeezed his calf once before pressing your tongue to the underside of his dick, running it against a vein that never failed to make his head spin.

The grip on your head tightened as he nodded frantically, “Y-Yeah, yeah, okay - t-take it all, princess, swallow every drop j-just f’me, yeah?” A shiver ran down his spine as his rhythm began to falter, breathless whimpers falling from his lips, “‘M coming- oh fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna come-”

His dick twitched, throbbing against your tongue, and with a handful of thrusts the tip pressed against the soft flesh of the back of your throat before a rush of cum filled your mouth.

Your throat tightened with each swallow you took, gag reflex working double time with the lack of air reaching your lungs until the last of his release settled onto your tongue.

As his hold on you relaxed, you slowly pulled yourself off of his length with a lewd slurp, taking whatever final remnants remained before swallowing - almost choking on the deep breath that immediately followed suit as your lungs gratefully welcomed the unhindered rush of air.

“I’m-” Chris huffed out a breath, fully leaning against the door to save him from falling to his knees, “I’m sorry, baby, are you okay? Did I go too hard?”

“Honestly?” Clearing the rasp from your voice, you laughed lightly, “If I passed out, it would’ve been worth it.”

“Oh my god, you absolute menace!”

Eyes narrowing with mirth, you smirked, “Menace? I thought I was daddy’s little slut?”

The blush tinting his ears and neck deepened, but before he could respond a series of knocks rapped against the door, followed by Jisung’s sheepish voice.

“Uh, if you guys are done in there, can I grab my phone?”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia, @kpopsstuffs, @luvyev, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @4-chan-inpadella

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[konpeitonom]

Hiii!! I've been loving all your MW hcs and I was wondering if I could get some SFW/NSFW hcs for a throuple relationship between a fem reader, Curly, and Jimmy? Thank you!!

throuple with jimmy and grant curly.

sfw/nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader — cw for jimmy overall lol, he’s kinda gay here and so is curly. jim curly my beloved. they are not dating, just you dating them. minors do not read nsfw section thank you..

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; this was a bittt difficult to write for i won’t lie. jimmy is just too jealous/selfish of a character to make anything like that work! but i tried my best.. i really like the smut here!!

SFW

— i’m not going to question how this came to be. i can only guess curly and jimmy had some sort of compromise. whatever happened it’s all in the past and you’re all together like this!

— i think if you cracked any sort of joke that curly and jimmy are dating as well, jimmy would genuinely be so hurt. this is my post so i can proudly say that man is so deep into the closet. but whatever! this is an x reader.. curly would just laugh and be like ‘haha yeah’

— i think they are the perfect balance! curly can sometimes be overbearing in his love. he’s just so sweet. and jimmy. uhm. you know. you’d be lucky to get a genuine hug from this guy.

— if you guys are all hanging out together, jimmys jealousy is really evident. but for your sake and his ‘best friends’ sake, he tries to only subtly show it. even if all three of you know..

— jimmy would just stare as you two show your sickly sweet affection for one another. he’d step in, hands suddenly on your waist as he attempts a pleasant conversation with curly..

— i can only imagine the conversations they’d have about you, when you’re not in the room.. curly is the type of absolutely gush over his partner, and with jimmy dating you also it makes for a perfect situation!

— jimmy says he’s sick of it, but he doesn’t mind.

— dating the same girl would change their dynamic just a little, but at the end of the day they are still best friends. jimmy is still a very important person in curlys life, so he’ll try to keep the peace.

NSFW

minors do not read

— with sex, you usually have them one on one. because jimmy can sometimes just be so mean to curly, and you deserve to have a special moment with curly too! with both of them, actually.

— jimmy likes to go all out when it’s just you two. no stupid curly to try and mediate. leaves him bruises to look at, like between your thighs. a reminder than you’re his too.

— curly would gently kiss the bruises jimmy had given you. he’d ask if he was gentle enough, that if he had hurt you. because he knows jimmy is capable of that.

— on the rare occasion that you do fuck together, it really is like having the best of both worlds! jimmys more harsh nature goes well with curly who’s all about just pleasing you.

— jimmy bosses the fuck out of curly. like, ‘you do this, go do that’ ..

— jimmys personal favorite position is you in his lap, his dick shoved up your ass, as curly is stuffed into your cunt.. curly doesn’t mind it, as long as he can see your face clearly. jimmy is usually biting at your shoulders and neck..

— curly is also right by your ears, so he’d ask several times if this was all okay. if jimmy was too much, and if he should step in or call for a break/to slow down.

— jimmy would also like having his dick sucked as curly fucks you. it’s a sight to see, really. he feels most in control, because curlys movements choke you out a bit.

— he’d yell at curly to pick up his pace. how could he expect to please a woman when he’s going so fucking slow?

— once, he had came all over your pretty face, his cum leaking a bit out your lips. curly then reached over and placed his hand on your chin, kissing you. seeing his cum on you and curlys lips made him so unbelievably horny. dear god

— that’s kind of his go to thought when jerking off. he’s hoping you’ll recommend the two fuck as you watch one day. his cum on curly, in curly? yeah. yeah. he’s not gay though he’s just doing it for his girlfriend.