#just a labour of pure love
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
coming out of hiding just to put my two cents in (based on hours and hours of seeing a lot more than I should've) Dave and Chris are definitely correct, Johnny has said his isn't that big and based on very little evidence it seems to be correct. Jeff I'm not so sure but I bet it's average? but the bde is so strong so he's actually in the right place. everyone else is more or less correct (why do I have an opinion on this good god)
Gadies and lentlemen it is done (mine is based off nudes and radio bam, the fbi wants me for my history now) @godsworstson @endless-shrimp-tour thank you for tributing and helping, you brave soldiers
#also very interested to know what's been said about dico ????#dude is insanely private about everything#steve os dick might be small but his heart (((balls))) is very big#also thank u for making this it was profoundly necessary for the community#just a labour of pure love#jackass#bam margera#johnny knoxville#steveo#ryan dunn#chris pontius#wee man#preston lacy#dave england#ehren mcghehey#brandon novak#brandon dicamillo#chris raab#rake yohn
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
people fawning over the environmentalist themes in tolkienâs work has always made me deeply uneasy but I could never articulate why, and reading orientalism is clarifying a lot of that for me lol
#Said lays it out very clearly like#ânegativeâ representations of the orient. as in representing them as deficient or lacking in some way#rests on âpositiveâ representations of the occident. as in the west is always âdoingâ is always the thing driving human momentum#so idyllic representations of a pastoral post-labour society surrounded by fields and old world forests#populated by guys who have ample free time and fuck around all day#(& who are all white. at least in the films)#thatâs not an uncomplicatedly good way to present the world#and is a perspective that is deeply informed by being beneficiaries of continued colonial extraction domination and exploitation#i meam the fictional world is literally called the centre of the earth lol#anyway not âcancellingâ tolkien or whatever Iâm just glad to be able to understand why exactly#I think itâs bad to just uncritically praise his love of the environment as this like pure ideal#that is somehow uncorrupted by the historical and political context he came from#*post-scarcity I should say not necessarily post-labour#but like the labour processes that make that life idyllic in the first place are invisible
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
âI just canât believe it SiâŠâ
âI know, lovie. Me either.â
âTheyâre so perfectâŠâ you mumble dreamily, only half aware that youâre still going on about the sight in front of you, an overjoyed smile stretched across your lips as you lean back against Simonâs strong, muscular chest. He has his arms wrapped around your middle, chin resting atop of your head as he also gazes down before you both. âI canât believe we actually made them. We made these perfect little thingsâŠâ
âDunno about we, I think youâre givinâ me too much credit there.â He admits, adjusting to press a quick kiss into your hair, craning his head so that now his cheek is smushed against the crown of your head.
âDonât sell yourself short mister,â You laugh, leaning your head back to try and catch his eye, reaching a hand up behind you to run your fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, earning a satisfied hum in return, feeling the vibration of it going through his chest into you. âYou definitely were a part of the process, Simon. Couldnât exactly have planted those seeds myself.â You add with a wink.
âOh I remember, love, I was there.â He chuckles as well, his eyes meeting yours, the overwhelming feeling of pure contentment radiating off you both, the love he has for you reflected back at him in your own shining gaze. âYou that did all the hard work though. Growinâ âem til they were ready.â
âYeah but theyâre our babies, Si.â You insist, his grip tightening around you at yours words.
âThat they are. That they are.â He agrees, glancing down at the baskets set before you.
A moment passes where you continue to hold onto one another, enjoying the bliss that is existing alongside each other, feeling the other breath, heart beats falling into rhythm, both simply appreciating the view in front of you. Though you canât see him behind you, Simonâs smile is wavering, unsure how to pose his next question, not wanting to sound as though heâs making fun of you.
âWe are going to use them at some point though, right?â
âEventually.â
âMânot sure how long berries last, lovie. And Johnnyâs countinâ on that pie we said weâd-â
âSimon,â you cut him off. âJohnnyâs damn desert can wait. Iâm admiring my children.â You decide, casting another glance towards the baskets full of fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries youâd spent so long growing, the very literal fruits of your labour, the first successful pickings from the garden you and Simon planted outside your new home.
âOh, so theyâre your children now, are they?â He teases.
âIf youâre talking about eating them so soon then yes, I will take custody.â You joke right back.
âWhyâre you so gorgeous when youâre bossy?â
âProbably a side effect of the military, my love.â
âWell maybe we can look at having me plant a different kind of seed soon, aye? Kind that takes about nine months to grow?â
#teehee#couldnât help myself#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fic#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod fanfic#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon fluff#simon ghost riley x you#cod simon ghost riley#call of duty ghost#ghost x you#ghost fanfic#ghost cod#ghost#cod fluff#cod fic
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter
genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro
requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the oplaâĄ
feat: zoro, sanji
a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!
âZOROâ
when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?
from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.
the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.
he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.
although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.
there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.
that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.
from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.
zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.
except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.
SANJIâĄ
sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.
I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.
if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.
one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.
you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.
sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.
you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is
safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.
he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.
only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.
he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.
believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)
#opla#one piece x reader#one piece live action#x reader#reader insert#roronoa zoro#zoro live action#zoro x reader#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#sanji live action#sanji x reader#one piece#one piece headcanons
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Head Full of Stars
cw. nsfw, afab omega!reader, alpha!hongjoong, heat/rut, possessiveness, overstimulation, strength kink, tummy bulge, creampies, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pussy drunk joong, scent kink, marking, praise *not proofread, just pure horny
[I wrote this fic with my pussy bruh like itâs pure filth] I took an a/b/o test before this and got omega đ§đ§
His rut is getting closer, you can feel the air around him get heavier. You were lying in bed when Hongjoong came home earlier than he said he would be. He crowded your space with no remorse, heat rolling off of him in waves.
The energy in the room shifted as he was sent into full throttle with his rut. Your senses are beyond overwhelmed; trying to adjust to the amount of alpha hormones radiating off of him but the only thing itâs making you do is produce more and more slick. You shudder under him, core pulsing with the need for a knot, his knot, your alphaâs knot.
Hongjoong buried his nose in your neck, taking deep inhales of your scent. It makes him dizzy, uselessly rutting his throbbing cock against your drooling pussy. You cling to his shoulders tightly. Hongjoong rips your and his clothes to shreds, stuttering out apologies as he rubs his cock through your slicked folds.
You whimpered pathetically as you watched him rub his cock through your slick. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, âmega. Need you, need you now-â Hongjoong leaned back, hooking your legs over his elbows. He hurriedly pushed in, bottoming out immediately. He tried to hold still to let you adjust but your pussy was so fucking tight and warm around his thick cock.
Hongjoong started with shallow thrusts, increasing his speed embarrassingly fast as his instincts took over. Hongjoongâs nails dug into your thighs as he used them as leverage to pull you into his hips. You whimpered at the familiar burn of the stretch. Hongjoongâs cock may not be proportionate to his height and built but it certainly lives up to his title as an alpha.
Normally heâd demand eye contact but he can see that his cock is fucking any sense of coherency out of that pretty head of yours. But itâs okay, Hongjoong loved to fuck the thoughts out of you; he thinks you look the prettiest when youâre taking his cock. Hongjoong can feel himself losing it, but he can see that youâve already lost it.
Youâre letting yourself get taken with the pleasure, doing what you do best; lying pretty and letting your alpha take care of you. Hongjoong growled low in his throat as he inhaled your scent again. He lapped over the mating mark on your neck, rocking his hips even harder. âMineâ Thatâs the only word replaying in his head.
Hongjoong has you damn near folded in half, drilling his obscenely thick cock into your aching cunt. âAlph- ah-!â Your sweet voice made him groan, his eyes following the way your hand slid between your bodies. Hongjoong could feel his knot grow, catching around your pretty and stretched hole.
He watched you press against the bump he made in your lower stomach, his eyes rolling back as he felt the pressure inside you grow. âMy sweet omega, my pretty girl. You want it?â You donât know how Hongjoong dares to tease you right now but it makes you throb nonetheless.
âWant my knot? Want alphaâs knot?â He chuckles softly, his usual teasing smirk on his face. You whine more at his teasing, pressing harder against the bump in your stomach. Hongjoong falters slightly, reeling his hips back before driving in again, letting his knot slip in too. Your back bows deeply, coming around his cock with a mewl. Hongjoong lets out a shaky breath as he pulses inside you.
Youâre breathing is laboured, uselessly pushing at his chest. Hongjoong lets your legs fall to his sides, cradling your face gently. âItâs okay, âmega. Just relax, pretty.â Hongjoong watched as you tried to steady your breathing, guiding you through it as he sneakily trailed his hands down your body. His fingers traced over your clit.
You started thrashing immediately, your nails digging into his shoulders. Hongjoong remained still, your needy omega state far too weak to move Hongjoong in his now pussy drunk state. He continued to play with your clit, moaning at the way you clenched around his cock. He had subconsciously let more of his scent ripple off of him, as he felt your body getting warmer the more he played with you.
Hongjoong pressed his mouth to your neck, painting dark hickeys across your skin. You continued to squirm, body too sensitive to know what it wants. Hongjoong gently pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, feeling his knot finally start to deflate slightly. He inhaled your scent again, the smell flooding his senses. âSo sweet, my pretty mate,â
Hongjoong licked at your neck, gently pulling his hips back. He can feel your body shudder against his, pressing his chest to yours as your pussy leaked his cum. Your scent has now clouded his mind, driving him further into his rut mindset. His lips curled into a snarl as he pushed back in, continuing his pace from before. His thrusts got harder with each push, more pheromones rolling off of him as he buried his cock in you. Hongjoong mumbled into your neck, a possessive growl rumbling from his chest.
âPups. Needs to give you pups. Need you big and swollen with my pups.â Hongjoong canât stop the images of you with a pretty bump, carrying his pups. âGonna look so pretty. Gonna give me strong pups, right? Give alpha nice, strong pups?â You dumbly nodded, whimpering as each thrust drives more cum in and out of you.
Youâve lost count of the orgasms youâve had but it doesnât matter as Hongjoong continues to lose himself in you as he babbles nonsense. Hongjoongâs flooded your pussy with more than heâs ever produced in his life. The only thought now, in the forefront of his mind, is to knot, knot, and knot. He needs to knot you again.
He needs to feel you stretch around his knot, needs to feel your pussy wrap around his knot, needs to cum in you one more time. He feels like another useless alpha know only knows how to pump and dump but you wrap yourself around him so tight, letting him sink into you one more time.
#bubbly writes <3#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez x you#ateez x y/n#ateez x female reader#ateez hard hours#ateez hard thoughts#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong x you#hongjoong x y/n#hongjoong smut
667 notes
·
View notes
Text
â MY STAR, MY DAUGHTER. â signed: boothill . wc. 791
â featuring âboothill x fem!reader
â warnings / content warnings âsfw (lil bit of angst if u squint) . major spoilers abt boothillâs story. girldad boothill girldad boothill!!, established relationships (marriage), mentions of pregnancy, just pure fluffiness which hurts my heart | special tags . @rinneverse @mewnbuns
â a/n âthis is VERRRRYYYY short n somehow took quite a bit bc readers block was eating my ass but i like how this turned out :3 if i see one more tt abt boothillâs silly (not so silly) backstory i will sob uncontrollably :,)
this was a blessing from the aeons themselves.
you were pregnant, with a daughter.. his kid, his flesh and blood. boothill closed his eyes, fingers gently stroking your belly in slow, comforting circles. you could feel his chest heaving softly, his breaths growing deeper and more laboured, signaling his fading consciousness. your husbandâs arm loosened, draping over your belly and chest. â.. baby, thank you for this gift. son of a nice lady, yer fudginâ strong for carryinâ our baby girl inside of ya.â
boothill was beyond excited, your husband couldnât believe it.. after all these years, he couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude; he was creating a family, a future together with you, a future he couldâve had with his first daughter he had lost and grieved for years. in his eyes, this was his blessing, his second shot at being a father. your heart ached for your husband. you knew about his past and experiences, he told you many times already.. a story you canât help hold dear to your heart. for boothill, the little baby girl he lost on that fateful day.. was the day he lost everything. the pain of her absence was immense and left a void that no amount of time could heal, sending him in a spiral of grief that engulfed him wholly.
but yet.. when he heard the news of your pregnancy a few months ago, boothill felt that little spark of light erupt once more with pure joy.. the glow he lost many years ago, returned with a new sense of hope, a new sense of hope for the future heâs always wanted. the joy and excitement he felt was a welcome reprieve from the grief that had consumed his soul for so long, overcoming his deepest regrets. he couldnât wait for this little rascal to grow, experience the beauty of life herself, explore the world around her with curiosity and wonder.. teaching her about all the things he knew. maybe even tell her about the older sister she couldâve had. boothill wanted to see her smile, dress her up in pretty little princess dresses, help her walk her first steps, he wanted to experience and see it all. all he wanted was to see his daughter grow in-front of his eyes, something he had failed to see with his first.
to boothill, his flesh and blood forming inside of you was his second chance at fatherhood. he promised himself heâd pour all his love and energy into raising the baby with you, seeking a renewed sense of purpose and meaning of a fatherâs love. âi canât wait for our little girl to grow up, baby.. mâ gonna be the best daddy ever, iâll tell ya that.â
âyou already are, hun. you already are.â
âheh.. rely on me from now on, âkay? âgonna protect you and her.â your husband leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before moving to brush his lips against yours, tenderly.. his thumb forming gentle circles on your belly. âalways darlin, always.â boothill smiled crookedly, a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. the cyborg leaned in, his forehead still touching yours as spoke softly.. his words destined for the bundle of joy growing within you. "little one," boothill whispered, his voice filled with love. " mommy and i have been talking. both so fudginâ excited to meet ya. princess, weâve been workinâ hard to make sure that when ya join us, you'll have everythinâ ya need. âgoing to shower you with love ân affection.. promise to be there for ya, to teach ya and guide ya. mama and daddyâre a team, ân we'll be the best parents we can be, just for you,â
your husband paused for a moment, allowing the love in his words to resonate before continuing. ".. âcan't wait tâhear your first cry, âfeel ya in my arms, kiss your forehead. mama and i love ya more than anythinâ else in this world. so.. for now, jusâ keep growinâ healthy and strong, okay?"
boothill reached over, taking your hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. your husband gazed back up at you, offering you a small smile as he spoke to the little girl, puckering his lips to leave a gentle peck to your belly. âheh.. jusâ so ya know, sâ your daddy, babygirl. canât wait tâsqueeze those chubby cheeks, roll you up in a marshmallow usinâ daddyâs good-old red scarf.. i canât wait tâlove ya. love ya as much as the universe. yâknow why, darlinâ?â he paused, nuzzling his nose against the warmth of your belly, âbecause youâre my star, sweetie. the star that lit up mommy and daddyâs life,â
âmy star, my daughter.â
#áàœČàŒá«àŸ maryseâs diary à«źê°Ë¶ËÌ” ^ Ë̔˔ê±á#boothill <33#girldad boothill girl dad boothill!#weak writing on this but iâll fix it eventually sobs#honkai star rail#hsr x you#hsr x reader#hsr fluff#boothill x reader#boothill x you#boothill fluff#hsr boothill
664 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little Update
Summary: Lando gives his fans a little update about live
Words: 785
Warnings: None just pure fluff
A/N
It's my first time writing for Lando I hope you like it <3
Three weeks ago, you and Lando welcomed a little baby boy to the world. The both of you were pretty open about the pregnancy, posting pictures and stories all the time.
The fans loved watching your baby bump grow. And the interactions between Lando and the baby you two shared over your socials.
But since the baby was born, you two went MIA for a while and haven't posted a thing. Everybody started to speculate that the baby was born, but nobody had seen the baby yet.
You and Lando needed some time for yourselves to adjust to the new situation, but after some time, you slowly got into a routine.
Now, the two of you wanted to let the world know about your little bundle of joy. Lando wanted to do something special, that would resemble you and him.
Something that made you and Lando who you are, are your infamous streams. So Lando wanted to stream with your baby and introduce him to the world. You were a bit sceptical at first, not wanting to parade around with your baby in public so much.
But Lando assured you that everything would be alright and that he would be extra careful if it would get too much for little baby Henry.
So now Lando was sitting in his gaming chair with his son sound asleep next to him in his crib.
You wanted to stay with them and watch, but you had a hard time staying awake and chose to take a nap, still recovering from labour.
Lando took a deep breath and started the stream but had the camera still turned off. In the next few minutes, thousands of people joined his stream.
Seeing the numbers rise made Lando's heart beat faster, and he started overthinking his idea again. Nevertheless, he turned on his microphone and greeted his viewers.
"Hey, guys! ⊠Guys, calm down. I know the camera's turned off. Be patient."
His heart melted as he read the messages his fans sent him, asking how he was doing and if you were doing okay. After laughing at a few messages, his heart rate slowed down and he started to feel more relaxed.
"So guys, I know me and Y/N haven't been online for some time. In our defence, we had a good reason."
Taking a deep breath to collect himself, he took the sleeping baby into his arms and turned on the camera.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to Henry Norris."
He grabbed Henry's little hand with his finger and waved at the camera. The chat went completely feral at that, congratulating the two of them on your little family.
Henry slowly woke up after he felt his dad's presence. Looking up at Lando with his big blue eyes, which he got from you, he cuddled himself deeper into Lando's arms.
Realising that his son had woken up, he cooed at him and kissed his little forehead to settle him again.
"Chat, look at him, he's so cute. Baby, you wanna say hello?"
Hearing Lando use his baby voice and cuddle with his son made the chat go crazy. Messages of love and adoration flooded the chat.
"How is Y/N doing?" Lando read out loud.
"Y/N's doing quite good. She is currently sleeping. I try to help her as much as I can. She needs to recover fast because I'm kind of lost without her."
Chuckling at the end of his sentence, he read a few more questions until he heard the door to his office open and close.
"Aww, chat, look who decided to join us!"
You waved at the camera as you took your place behind Lando, kissing his messy curls.
"The chat kept asking for you," Lando mumbled into your neck as he nuzzled himself into you.
"Aww, really? Hi chat!"
You greet the chat and cuddle yourself next to Lando. The two of you kept answering questions until you felt Henry squirm in Lando's arms.
"Chat, we're going to end the stream now. Little muppet's gonna have his dinner now."
Taking Henry from Lando's arms, you head out, getting ready to feed him. Lando comes right after you, talking to the chat for a bit.
The sight that greets him in the living room, is a sight he could never get sick of.
The love of his life, with his son in her arms, feeding him in their own little home.
#dad! lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris oneshot#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris#lando x reader#lando imagine#dad!lando
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello. The headcanon you shared for Maegor was great. Can you write more yandere Maegor? The reader got married Maegor and the reader is the only wife who gives birth to healthy children.
YANDERE MAEGOR X READER WHO GAVE BIRTH TO HEALTHY CHILD
đȘhe married you because of his deep infatuation with you . To be honest he just wanted to be with you .
đȘhe wanted a child so desperately and if the gods gave him one he would treat the child with such care and dedication no one could say he was a bad father.
đȘwhen he hears that you are pregnant itâs a mixture of pure love and worry.
đȘbecause of the worry he hides you away from everyone ESPECIALLY his wifeâs in fear they will kill the child inside you .
đȘout of love he gives you anything you want a beautiful cradle with hand crafted dragon on it a symbol of the babes inheritance when itâs born.
đȘwhen you are in labour he becomes distraught unsure what to do he barks orders at the maesters to make you better. When you scream in agony he tries his best to soothe you by whispering words of inspiration and encouragement.
đȘwhen the babe is born and starts to cry he CRIES . He never thought he would feel so content before he loves you more then ever and the little of bundle of joy you have is now his most prized possession.
đȘafter the first babe he waits before he tries for another not wanting to seem greedy or anger the gods .
đȘbut after you give birth to another child thatâs it . All the other wives are executed and you are his only wife âŠ
đȘyou will probably have 10 to 13 children so be prepared because now you have gifted him with this bundle of joy . You are going to give him many MANY more .. just a warning
Thank you for this request â€ïžâ€ïž
#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere x reader#obsessive love#obsessive yandere#x reader#obsessed#obssesive#obssessed#yandere family#yandere hotd#yandere house of the dragon#house of the dragon#yandere got#yandere game of thrones#maegor targaryen#maegor the cruel
792 notes
·
View notes
Text
I tell someone I love them (just as a distraction)
Spencer Reid x fem famous!reader
Summary: In the depths of his addiction, Spencer finds someone who needs an escape as much as he does. cw: talk of addiction, allusions to sex (no actual smut), angst no happy ending
Part 2 here!
Meaningless whispers of âI love youâ mumbled between laboured breaths and cold kisses in an apartment that doesnât feel like mine. The sheen of sweat that coats his body is nearly constant these days, it has nothing to do with physical exertion. The glaze over his hollow eyes is the furthest possible thing from pleasure, although by now he might have his wires crossed. His face is beautiful, and I can see myself marrying it in another life, one where my chest isnât as hollow as his cheeks. A life where I donât have to ignore the fresh scars in the crook of his elbow as I pull his shirt off.
I am not in that world, and neither is he, a reality that I cannot grieve because this is what I asked for, what I have been working for since before I can remember. The parties that leave me empty and sick, the performances that start the moment I leave the stage, the new friends who tag along for my name. I love him because he doesnât care about any of it, if only because heâs too high to care about much at all.
I donât feel anything when I finish, Iâm not sure he does, either. I watch as he disappears from my side, already scrambling to his bag, searching through it until he finds what he needs. He slips into the bathroom, finally taking his chance to feel something after the numbness of the night. He has his escape, he used to be mine. I wonder if one day the chemicals he defiles his veins with will stop calming his ever racing mind, or if I just need a higher dose.
When he comes back, I pull him close to me, dragging him back down into the bedsheets and sweat. It works this time, my skin alight with every electrifying touch as his fingers dance gracefully across my body. His hands shake as they move, a feeling that makes my nerves sing as a lump forms in my throat and my heart sinks to my stomach. He looks up at me with those brown eyes that would be so gorgeous if they held any emotion, anything but that violent hunger for a craving he should have satisfied moments earlier. He canât up his dose as easily as I can, canât pull his vice back to bed without the risk of never waking up. He doesnât bother saying that he loves me this time, we both know itâs not true. Or maybe it is, but there are things he loves much more, and telling me he loves me debases one of the only pure things left in the world. Iâm glad he doesnât try this time.
He holds me afterwards, his trembling body not yet ready to stand up, or maybe he knows that the moment he does heâll be back inside the bathroom. I turn my head away, and as he buries his face in my shoulder, I pretend I donât feel the apology he mouths against my glass skin. He runs a hand down my upper arm, his touch tentative and light, scared that Iâll shatter into a million pieces. My heart does. If he knows about the tear that runs down my face, he ignores it, and Iâm not surprised. Ignorance is what weâre good at, after all.
When I wake up, heâs gone, slipped into the early morning, or called into the job that he shouldnât be doing in his condition. I crawl out of my cold, damp sheets, the disgusting aftermath of our night. The sick feeling that perpetually sits in my gut, loosening under him, twisting tighter under the sun of the next day.Â
Slowly, I peel back the layers of sticky fabric, watching how they cling to my skin and each other as I force them into the washing machine. I turn it on.
Fresh sheets are laid out on my bed, sheets that havenât yet witnessed the tornado of us, still clean and untainted by tears and sweat and words that never mean anything. I lay the sheet over the mattress, fighting to wrap it around all four corners as it perpetually escapes one, always sitting just slightly wrong. I place the pillows down carefully, fighting the urge to punch them like Iâve been wanting to punch his face every time he shows up at my door.
I can see myself marrying him in this world, too, getting him the help he needs and staying with him through it all. He would be able to be there for me when I need it, not an escape from, but support through the other parts of my life, a person to love and talk to about the hard things. But I know that is still impossible. One day, he will sober up and disappear, or I will be an uninvited guest at his funeral. Thereâs no option that ends well for both of us, the best we can do is take it as it happens and ignore everything.
I watch as the last blanket floats down over the bed, carelessly adjusting its corners. It looks exactly the same.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x you#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid cm#criminal minds one shot#criminal minds angst#criminal minds spencer reid#criminal minds drabble#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x you#Spotify
196 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I make one where Balwin's wife is pregnant but during childbirth she is surprised and it is not a single baby, if it is not 3 triplets and they are chubby and pink, what will be people's reaction?
⥠Sweet Surprise - King Baldwin x Reader âĄ
⥠Fluff âĄ
A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request, I think that this was one of the ones that got deleted by the glitch a little while ago so I'm so sorry about that, but I'm glad you sent it back in so I could complete it! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!
TW: Leprosy, Child Birth
It was exactly one month after the union between the king and queen of Jerusalem that y/n fell pregnant.
After many weeks of trying, it had finally happened.
The young couple were overjoyed, having exceeded all doubts about Baldwinâs fertility due to his illness. It was truely a blessing from the lord Himself and needless to say, the entire kingdom was of the same opinion.
As the months went on, the queen fell heavily pregant. More so than what was expected. This worried the physicians greatly, believing that there may be something wrong.
Y/n was confined to the royal chambers to preserve her health until labour.
Baldwin was destraught. Thinking irrationally, he believed that it had something to do with his disease.
His anxiety grew with each passing day, no matter how many times his queen consoled him and assured him that the situation was no fault of his own.
---------------------
And then, the day came.
The king was out overseeing the construction of a new church in the kingdom when a servant on the back of a large stallion sprinted up to the small group of officials.
âMY LORD MY LORD!â he shouted, leaping down from the horse, panting and tripping overhimself.
âOh my, are you okay? What is going on?â Baldwin replied, his heart quickening at the thought of an emergency.
âMy lord, its the queen, she is in labour!âÂ
The king and the rest of the small party waisted no time in mounting their horses and cantering back to the castle as fast as possible.Â
When they arrived, Baldwin payed no attention to the pain that his body was in. He lept down from the horse, ignoring the surge of agony that shot through his lower body when his feet hit the ground.
He was the first into the castle and ascended the stairs to the royal chambers in no time.
Breathing heavely, he pushed open the doors with the last of his strength before falling to his knees.
Two maids immediately rushed to his side, helping their king to his feet.
âY/n! Is she okay? Is the baby alright?!â he asked urgently, still panting heavily.
âBaldwin!â y/n called from the bed, âI am alright my love, come see!â.
As the kings vision cleared, the bed that held his wife came into view. As did the baby. And another baby? And another? In the queens arms lay three, healthy, chubby, pink babies who were all sleeping peacefully against their mothers body.
Baldwin gasped, a wide grin quickly spreading across his mask covered face.
The maids helped him to the bed, sitting him down carefully beside his wife.
âThey are all healthy sweetheart, thats why my belly was so big! There was nothing wrong, I was just holding triplets!â y/n said, an equally wide smile on her face.Â
The young king was lost for words and overcome with nothing but pure joy.
âI- I cant believe it! This is the most amazing day of my life! Oh thank you lord!ââ Baldwin praised, his grin hidden by the mask.
He pressed his forehead against the top of his wifes head, squeezing his eyes shut.
âI cant believe this is happening! I have never been happierâ he said, feeling tears of joy welling in his eyes.
Y/n chuckled, âneither can I darling. And I thought we were blessed with one, but THREE!â
Baldwin opened his eyes to look down at his children.
Each one was plump and healthy. Their arorable faces melted his heart.
âThere are two boys and one girlâ the queen said softly.
âWould you like to hold them?â she asked.
Baldwin thought for a moment, âI dont know if that is a good idea, what if they get sick? I couldnt live with myself if-âÂ
âDarlingâ y/n cut him off gently.
âIt will be okay. You are clothed and you are wearing your mask. Nothing will happen I can assure you. Allow yourself this moment, you deserve itâ she told him with a smile.
He took a deep breath before nodding, leaning against the headboard of the bed and holding out his arms.
One by one, y/n carefully placed each tiny bundle of life in his arms.
Two of them stayed in peaceful sleep but ones eyes opened slowly. It was one of the boys. He did not cry like many babies would, he simply yawned and looked up at his father with big blue eyes. Big blue eyes, just like Baldwinâs.
The kings heart swelled with joy and happiness again at the sight of his son. His own son.
âOh my love look!, he has your eyesâ y/n cooed, looking at the adorable little boy in her husbands arms.
âYes, he does!â Baldwinâs own eyes welled with tears at the sight and he fought back a broken sob.
Noticing his tear filled eyes, y/n placed a hand on her husbandâs shoulder.
âAre you okay darling? Whats wrong?â she asked, suddenly worried.
âIâm alright my love. Iâm just so happy, I never thought this day would come. Theyre so perfect, youre so perfect. Thank you y/n- I love you so muchâ
He tried his best to prevent tears from running down his cheeks, but when the chubby little boy in his arms smiled up at his fathers masked face, he could not fight it.
Y/n wrapped an arm around Baldwinâs shoulders and pulled him closer to her.
âYou deserve this happiness sweetheart. I love you, and our family is, and will be, perfectâ she kissed her husband's cheek and layed her head on his shoulder.
The king nodded, a small smile returning to his face.
He felt like the happiest man alive, and he knew that as long as he had these children and y/n in his life, he would stay that way for all eternity.
#king baldwin iv#kingdom of heaven#kingdom of heaven fandom#king baldwin#king baldwin iv x reader#king baldwin x you#king baldwin x reader#kingdom of heaven 2005#king baldwin iv x oc#the leper king#kingbaldwin#leper king#baldwin iv#baldwin iv of jerusalem#baldwin#koh fandom#koh
368 notes
·
View notes
Text
KINKTOBER
â°â†DAY FOUR: DRY HUMPING w/ KYLE GARRICK
Rumpled sheets, birds chirping outside, sunlight filtering through the window. Mornings like this are rare for Kyle nowadays, constant deployment making it feel as though he's never home, and in retrospect, that may be considered true. The pure warmth and domesticity he feels with you snuggled in his toned arms, awake but refusing to face the day and abandon the sanctuary of Kyle's arms and the blankets, is like a Godsend right now.
It's making him feel all kinds of things, especially considering the way you keep innocently rolling your hips against his crotch, trying to be impossibly closer to him.
"Honey, you're killing me. Cut it out." Kyle chuckles, his briefs tightening each time you nudge yourself up against him, his hands brushing a few strands of hair, messy from sleep, away from your face. You can't help but laugh when you see how glassy Kyle's dark eyes have already become, shaking your head in disbelief at how easily it is for you to rile him up.
"Aww, you gotta bad case of morning wood, baby?" You tease, a cheeky smile lighting up your face as you bring one of your thighs up to grind against Kyle's stiffening cock earning a sharp inhale from him, his handsome features scrunching up as he leans into your touch.
Your stroke of bratty dominance is short-lived once Kyle parts your legs with one of his own, mimicking your own actions as he pushes his powerful thigh right up against your dampening panties, defined musculature finding and massaging your clit first time, like your bodies are magnetised. Quickly, you're both huffing and puffing as you grind up against each other's thighs, Kyle's face tucked into the crook of your neck as he sloppily nibbles and pecks at your throat.
"K-Kyle... 's not enough." You whine, rocking your hips in desperation as your hands grab at Kyle's waist in an attempt to position yourself better. But you're just so insatiable and in love with this man, and you need more.
Two large, rough hands paw at your hips, suddenly hoisting you up as Kyle rolls onto his back and plops you on top of him, deep brown eyes staring up at you in pure admiration, as though you're a masterpiece perfectly sculpted for Kyle and Kyle only. You look so beautiful, sitting pretty in an old sports bra and little panties on top of his engorged dick, practically aching to be inside of your wet cunt. Reciprocating those desires, your hands start to grab at the waistband of those pesky brief's, eager to utilise your privilege of gawking at Kyle's gorgeous, girthy dick.
Though your face falls in confusion when Kyle grabs your hands and places them on his thick, hard pecs instead, his lips curling up into a smirk.
"Nope. You're finishing what you started." Kyle whispers, his hands forcing your hips to sway back and forth, effectively grinding your pussy against him. You moan as you begin to move with Kyle, the weight of your body on top of his boner causing him to hiss, hips bucking up against your clothed cunt for more friction.
Kyle's hands explore every inch of your body they can reach while your find your own rhythm on his lap, each crevice his fingers glide across leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling in their wake, making your pussy clench around nothing as your pace becomes more frantic. The room fills with an air of unbridled passion as the grinding of Kyle's hips from beneath you mirror your increased urgency, his bare chest rising and falling hypnotically underneath your warm palms with each laboured breath he takes.
"Atta girl. Doin' so good, love." Kyle coos, keeping your firmly pressed against him, pulling your body down to his chest by your hair to leave more marks and wet kisses down the side of your neck, angling his hips so that he can keep grinding his cock up against you, never wanting to be apart from the warmth your gorgeous body emits.
Needless to say, not only was your lazy morning somewhat ruined, but so were two perfectly good pairs of underwear.
my time management is so ass, sorryyyyyy
#ultravioletrayz#kyle gaz garrick smut#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick smut#kyle garrick#gaz smut#gaz x reader#gaz x you#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz x you#kinktober 2024#kinktober#đ€uv-cđ€
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
What Was I Made For?
3.1K / Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford x fem!reader
Summary: Left on his own, Tim learns a new way to live.
Warnings: None! Age gap cause Timâs like hundreds of years old đ€·đ»ââïžđ Semi-sentient woodland creatures that meddle, I guess đ€
A/N: Inspired by @almostfoxgloveâs beautiful AU moodboard below - if you haven't already, check out that post and the tags, along with all her other AU moodboards! Thank you so much for sharing them with us đ„čđ„°
Title by Billie Eilish / Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always đ„°
For a very long time, Tim did not go outside during the daytime.
Father said not to.
And even though Father has been gone for many years, Tim still heeded his words. His being the only voice Tim had ever heard.
He still doesnât know why Father left. Heâs even less sure of why he never returned.
Merge Mansion remains dark, even during the day. Its halls empty, its candelabras unlit. If anyone was to pass through the ivy choked iron gates and listen at its door, and no one ever did, they would hear only the skittering of mice and the occasional heavy footstep, so slow and deliberate it could be mistaken for the heartbeat of a slowly dying house.
Only ever at night, Tim goes out to the woods behind the now dusty and crumbling mansion. Those same woods where Father would have him lift, throw, break - repeatedly. And Father would write furiously in his notebooks. Tim thinks maybe thatâs what he was made for.
For more years than can be counted, enough so that he passes into legend, Tim continues to do what he knows. He uproots trees and plants and heaves them over knolls and into streams. He rolls boulders and smashes rocks. He haunts the forest alone until the dawn threatens to pierce through the thick overhang of the old growth trees; hiding within the moss-covered stone walls of the only home heâs ever known until night brings cover once again.
Until one night after so many nights, he just⊠doesnât. Instead of his nightly exertion to prove something to the darkness, Tim just sits and bathes in the pureness of the moonlight. He breathes in the earthy musk of the forestâs damp soil and the sweet scent of pine mixed with bark sap. Instead of his own laboured breathing, Tim finally hears the babbling of the brooks, the hooting of the owls, and soft breeze whistling between the low berry bushes and the high tree tops. Tim doesnât know if he was made to be at peace, but he finds that he can do it all the same.
He teaches himself to read. At first using words Father would say and the signs he would point to in the room Tim lived in: Lock. Unlock.  Hot.  Cold.  On.  Off.  Danger.  Stop.
Then from books about nature that he finds in the library, remembering words that Father would use to describe their surroundings when in the woods that Tim now knows so well.
Tree. Rock. Hill. Hole.
It takes a very, very long time. But Tim has nothing but time.
Heâs not even sure if heâs doing it right - he has no one to ask. Not that he could even if there was. He says the words in his head the way he thinks they sound, but with no voice, never out loud. He wasnât made for that.
Itâs no matter. Even if he isnât sure heâs sounding them out properly, Tim thinks heâs assigned the words to the pictures in the books of animals and landscapes correctly. There are other books, as well. Ones with illustrations that are foreign to him and where the words denote meaning that he doesnât think he will ever understand, but he learns them anyways: Music. Dance. Laugh. Feast. Love.
In his woods, Tim no longer destroys: he clears, builds, tends. Tim carves out paths that feel softer on the bottoms of his lumbering feet. He removes dead branches from healthy trunks and uses them to sweep the forest floor. He rolls away dead trees, some fell by age or disease, others by his own hand in the olden days when he thought that was what he was made for.
He still only does these things under the cover of night. Father had said to be afraid of the village at the bottom of the looming hill upon which Merge Mansion perched. He warned Tim that if he was discovered, the villagers would come and hurt them both. Tim wishes that he had known the words or had the voice to tell Father that he would have protected him. That perhaps it was the villagers who should have been afraid of him. Fatherâs notebooks say that he was built to be fierce.Â
The bunnies in the woods do not seem to think so. Nor the foxes, or the badgers, or the mice. The deer do not find Tim to be fearsome, and the birds readily to flock to him.
He supposes itâs because he starts to help them build their nests; his long legs easily carry him to the farthest corners of the woods where the best nesting materials can be gathered. He volunteers his big, pawlike hands to dig their burrows and holes. His strength he uses to drag logs and branches to where whole furry families reside, breaking the thick wood into smaller pieces to help them expand and fortify their homes for their growing broods and the incoming weather. Heâs tall enough to lift baby birds back into their nests when they fall out before theyâre ready to fly. He forages and shares all his bounty, himself having no need for sustenance.Â
Tim would not mind if this is what he was made for.
The years continue to pass. The village at the bottom of the hill gets less busy, smaller, and is eventually gone. Tim only knows because he witnesses the number of tiny square windows illuminated by bright candles during the night, dwindle until there is only darkness.
From the now dilapidated walls of Merge Mansion, Tim watches as what remains of the village rots and is reclaimed by the Earth. It looks less frightening to him the way it stands now, wild and lush - much more like his beloved forest where heâs only ever known friendly creatures.
Itâs the bunnies who convince him to come out in the daytime.Â
It had been an especially abundant year for the rabbits, with baby bunnies almost overrunning the forest floor. The mamas plead with Tim using their big brown eyes to help round up their little ones and keep them safe, making sure none of them strayed too far from the safety of the woods.
Little bunnies are hard to see in the dark.
The first time Tim steps outside during the day, heâs so blinded by the skyâs brightness that he thinks perhaps his eyes were not made for sunlight. His forest is so green in the daytime. A richness of browns with the occasional pop of red, blue, even lavender. In the winters, the snow is so white during the day it appears almost clear. Once the snow has melted, the streams splash with fish that jump during the day â something that never happens at night. The sunâs beams warm Timâs rough skin in a way the moonâs cold, comfortable ambiance never has. The sounds of the forest are so much louder, cheerier in the day than they are at night â it strikes Tim as odd given itâs the same forest but he supposes he feels more alive during the day as well.
The deer are the ones that lead him out of the forest and to the front of the house. The overgrown grass on the Merge Mansion hill begs to be grazed on, and with the village gone, Tim and the deer while away many days unseen and unbothered amongst the soft green blades â looking out to a splendid view of rolling plains and sprawling forests stretching all the way to the horizon. He never strays far from the house - still heeding Fatherâs words of caution even though the dangers he warned against look to be long gone.
Tim doesnât even know that another village has sprung up somewhere on the other side of a low mountain that he considers to be more than a fair distance away until you. The first time he sees you, youâre but a little girl and you come with your own father to the cemetery that rests at the bottom of his hill, where it once bordered the old village. The same cemetery from which Father gathered the parts that make up Tim as he is, if Fatherâs notebooks are to be believed. The deer scamper away before you or your father see them, but Tim stays and hides, watches.
He hears your father tell you that these graves belong to your ancestors who once lived in the old village thatâs now gone and that even though you live on the other side of the mountain, you should still pay your respects. Tim listens to your cheery chatter and the hum of your fatherâs merry tunes as the two of you clean the gravestones, pull the weeds, plant fresh gardens.
You and your father come every week and Tim begins to look forward to it. He watches you grow into a beautiful woman and your father into an old man. He listens to the musical lilt of your voice and the gentle teasing of your father as the two of you care for and nurture the plot of land at the base of the Merge Mansion Hill so that it grows vibrant and fragrant with flowers that heâs only ever seen in Fatherâs books. He hears your father tell you stories he heard as a child about the house that Tim lives in â the legend of a mad scientist and a terrible monster. Tim doesnât know why, but he feels relief when you laugh at these stories and call them ridiculous.
When your father stops coming with you, Tim watches over you in his stead. You continue to do your duty in the cemetery joyfully and your sweetness is like an invitation. The bunnies and the foxes and the mice and the deer all come down to join you. You laugh and share your food with them and they enjoy your company as much as you do theirs. Music. Dance. Laugh. Feast. He thinks he finally understands. When his furry friends turn their soulful eyes up to the house, Tim knows theyâre looking to him to come down but he shakes his head no. Heâs not made for this.
He doesnât know that you see him anyways.
Youâve known he was there since the days you would come to this cemetery with your father as a little girl. Most times as just a shadow on the Merge Mansion grounds, but once or twice you had seen Timâs handsome, haunted face in one of the cracked windows.
You donât know who he is or what he is, but some how you know that you have to pretend that youâre unaware of his presence. As if for some laughable reason, he finds you to be frightening.
So, you try to make yourself to be as nonintimidating as possible. You wear soft flowing fabrics that lie prettily over your equally soft skin in pleasing colours that compliment the hue of your hair and the brightness of your eyes. You keep your voice gentle and the sound of your notes harmonious when you sing or hum your favourite songs of love and fantasy. When your father tells you the old stories of the Merge Mansion Monster, you make sure to loudly decry this characterization. Your unseen friend is not a monster, and you want to make sure that he knows you know that.
Your woodland friends who proclaim to know him best seem to say, give him time. So you do, waiting patiently for a sign. For what? You donât know. Just a sign for more.
It comes one summer day, many, many years after your weekly trips to the cemetery became solo trips. For two weeks, youâve been in a state of mild panic, unable to find the delicate gold chain necklace that your father gave you - his last gift to you before he passed. A part of you fears that it may have come unclasped and dropped onto the path some time during your weekly trip to the Merge Mansion cemetery; your heart clenches â if that was the case, your treasured necklace is surely lost.
Your surprise when you find your necklace waiting for you on top of a gravestone next to a small tied bundle of lavender is palpable. Your eyes threaten to overflow with tears as you look up the hill to the house and mouth, thank you.
You donât know that you had actually lost your necklace next to this very gravestone and that one of your bluebird friends had carried it up to Tim in its beak. Tim spends two weeks practicing making the small bouquet of lavender â his large and clumsy hands unused to the precise and delicate movements required. He refers to the instructions in the book he found so many times he can see the diagrams in his sleep. But he keeps trying until he gets it right â wanting to offer you something more than just your returned necklace as a token of his appreciation for all the work you do. Holding the delicate chain in his oversized hand, he canât stop looking at it glittering in the moonlight and admiring its intricate craftsmanship. Itâs the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen. Well, second.
The next week, Tim discovers a large and fragrant bouquet of the cemeteryâs best and biggest blooms laid outside of his iron gates.
Three weeks later, on the same gravestone, you find those flowers dried and pressed, then laced together in a pretty flower crown.
You weave your own from new fresh flowers and leave it in place of the dried one you take home. The following week, the crown you made is gone, and in its place, a large pile of fresh wild berries that must come from the forest behind the mansion.
The squirrels had objected, but Tim promised that the reduction of berries from their weekly hoard would be for a good cause. You helped prove him right the following week when he returned from the hill with a jar of wild berry jam which he happily shared.
This continues for months. Each week a small, thoughtful trinket exchanged - neither you or Tim having much to offer except your consideration and time. The giddy anticipation and resulting awe a gift in itself.
The day you bring a blanket that took you six weeks to knit, youâre imbued with a bravery (the source of which is unknown even to you) that brings you all the way to Timâs doorstep. The heavy door opens when you push against it, but no one answers when you call out.
While Tim is in the woods assisting with the birth of a newborn deer, youâre wandering the dark, musty halls of Merge Mansion. You find where you think Tim must sleep: in a room that looks like a lab - electrical wire equipment, gurneys, restraints and medical utensils long since pushed against the walls of the room and abandoned.
You read the notebooks left behind by the scientist and seethe on Timâs behalf. To call him a Creature! To experiment on him and put him through trials of endurance and strength as if he was merely an instrument for violence! Youâre grateful that Timâs creator must be long dead by now, else he might not be able to escape the vitriol you feel rising in your chest at the mistreatment Tim endured at his hand.
You leave the blanket and the mansion in a hurry.
When Tim comes back into the house, he knows immediately that you were there. He smells you. The sweet floral perfume from your garden and the sticky scent of fruit from your jams hangs in the air. Nothing in this house or the forest smells quite so lovely. You were here.Â
With growing distress, he finds your thoughtful gift in the room where he sleeps and knows that youâve read Fatherâs notebooks. You know the truth of what he is now. Heâll never see you again.
But you come back.
You leave him a letter and for three weeks, he reads it every day.Â
Itâs a letter that tells him about yourself and your family, and how you came to be his weekly visitor. You tell him how youâve always known heâs been there but you were afraid to scare him away so you never let on that you saw him. You tell him that now that youâve calmed down a bit, youâre not quite so angry at Father but you do think that he didnât understand Timâs true nature, or perhaps, you concede, he simply wasnât gifted enough time to understand.Â
You tell him what you think of his nature. In your experience, men who are strong are rarely gentle and those who harness power are hardly ever giving. But Tim is. His hands, arms and muscles may be sewn together from much lesser men, but he, Tim, wields his strength to protect and look after others. His heart may not be able to pull down trees or break rock, but itâs tender and pure â and where his true power lies.
You write that even though youâve never met him face to face, you only ever feel safe and cared for knowing heâs around. And you hope that even if he never forgives you for trespassing in his home and going through his personal belongings without his permission, he will take your words to heart.
Every week you come back to the doors of Merge Mansion bearing a small gift and a big apology, but Tim is nowhere to be found. Youâre starting to fear that youâve crossed an unforgiveable boundary and ruined your indescribable but cherished connection, when the most wonderous sight awaits you as you near the top of the hill nearly a month after you left your letter.
Tim.Â
Impossibly large and broad, a hulk of a man is sitting on the front steps waiting for you. His face is hard, lined from time and worry, but his eyes are soft and vulnerable. You see some trace of old scars along his forehead and neck, and down the worn skin that stretches over the corded muscles of his forearms. His clothes are outdated and entirely the wrong size, but somehow it works on him. He looks formidable. Wild, yet tame. Handsome.
You run to him, beaming. Tim stands when you come to a stop in front of him, towering over you as he holds out a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the forest lands behind his home that he tends to so carefully.
When you reach out to accept, your small fingers brush his larger calloused ones, and the jolt of electricity that passes between the two of you feels like pure joy. And although Tim can only offer a quiet grunt, unable to say the words that he wishes he could sing with his whole chest, you understand him perfectly. Your incandescent smile and hopeful expression reassure him that you too, recognize the simple, unspoken truth: Tim was made for you.
đ¶Obligatory Billie Eilish, What Was I Made For lyricsđ¶:
'Cause I, 'cause I I don't know how to feel But I wanna try I don't know how to feel But someday I might Someday I might
Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be Something I wait for Something I'm made for Something I'm made for
#tim rockford#frankenstein au#tim rockford fic#tim rockford fanfiction#tim rockford x you#tim rockford x f!reader#tim rockford x reader#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shadows Behind Metal
cw. nsfw, afab human!reader, wolf hybrid!minjoong, threesome, poly relationship, handcuffs, muzzles, biting, pet play (nicknames), costumes (bunny ears), masturbation, voyeurism, degradation, praise, oral, cum eating, implied cum play, overstimulation, double penetration, creampies, breeding kink, nipple play, tummy bulge, implied size kink, fingering *not proofread, just pure horny
[THIS IS ONE OF MY FAV FIC IDEA YET] HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH AND KINKTOBER FOLKS đ§Ąđ€
taglist (dm to be tagged); @sidusvenari @sugarnspice630 @ravenempress101 @autieofthevalley @linearities @wisejudgedragonhairdo @madiexuberant @mifuelarts @straytiny127 @yun-fangz @huen1ngk41 @juyeonshour @uniq-tastic @hongjng8 @miyaluvvsyou @everyonewooeverywhere @hongjoongtime117 @nopension
kinktober 2024 masterlist
They were starting to second-guess their agreement with your little idea, but they just adored the sparkle in your eyes and the little bounce in your step when you scampered off to get the items you needed.
They both grumbled and growled from behind the bars of the muzzles strapped to their faces. Mingi swallowed thickly, his eyes pleading as they roamed your figure. The pristine white bunny ear sat atop your head, one folded over as you tilted your head in faux innocence. You sat in your love seat, one leg crossed over the other, as you happily drank in the needy and yearning expressions on their faces.
âYouâre having too much fun with this, cottontail.â Though Hongjoong has an unreadable expression painted on his face, his breathing is shaky and laboured. Heâs swallowing a lot more than usual, trying to contain the amount of saliva that threatens to leak out of him as he all but smells your arousal. His dick is straining in his jeans, leaking in his boxers as he tries not to rut his hips for any bit of friction, unlike Mingi, who is having an increasingly hard time containing himself.
âItâs kind of fun seeing you two like this though,â Hongjoong grunted at your words. His ears twitched against his hair, his tail tucked under him to hide how it wanted to thump against the floor. Mingiâs tail, on the other hand, is moving a mile a minute, too lost in your scent to realize how hard his tail is thumping against the floor. Hongjoong drops his head with a groan, closing his eyes momentarily and praying that he doesnât cum from just being played with like this.
Mingi shifts on his knees, the cold tiles offering little to no comfort. You cooed quietly as you watched them shift and rut into the air uselessly. You uncrossed your legs with a short whistle, laughing at how both of their heads snapped back to you. With the frilly skirt bunched up around your hips, they both got an eye full of your slicked cunt, all pretty and dripping just for them.
You gently trailed two fingers between your thighs, lewdly spreading your pussy open. Hongjoong let out a deep groan, his lips now swollen from how hard he had been biting at them. You leaned your head back, gingerly circling your fingers over your clit. You let out a soft string of moans, losing yourself in the feeling. You guide your hands lower, rubbing two fingers over your aching hole.
Thereâs a small snap before you hear a clank, and then you feel hands all over you. Your eyes shot open, widening in sheer arousal and a hint of fear. You notice the broken cuffs on the floor and the damned muzzles haphazardly thrown off to the side as you were manhandled on the couch. You peered up as Mingiâs hand tangled itself in your hair. Your eyes widened even more as his cock rubbed against your cheek. âYou see what you did to me, princess? Now youâll be the one to take care of it. Open your mouth.â
Mingi groaned as he laid his tip against your warm tongue. Letting you swirl the wet muscle across his leaking tip. Hongjoong grabbed your hips, greedily ripping the skirt right off of you. A deep growl resonated in his chest as he pushed your head down onto Mingiâs cock, enjoying the way you gagged and drooled around him. âMake a mess out of our pretty bunny, yeah?â Mingi hummed, fucking your mouth. Hongjoong tapped your drooling pussy with his cock, letting his tip breach your hole briefly before pulling out and grinding his length through your folds.
His tip bumped against your sensitive clit, making you jolt. âSuch a needy little cunt, just waiting to be stuffed full of cock and cum, huh cotton?â Hongjoong listened intently as you choked around Mingiâs cock, taking your wrists and using them as leverage to drag your heated body onto his pulsing cock. âYou wanted cock, Iâll fucking give it to you.â You whimpered around Mingiâs cock, looking up at him with glassy eyes. âGod, youâre such a fucking slut. Crying and gagging on my fucking cock.â You moaned around his length, your pussy clenching tightly around Hongjoong. With no way to steady yourself, Mingi continuously gagged you on his cock, hitting the back of your throat with no effort.
Hongjoongâs pace was brutal, in and out with no reprieve. He bullies his thick cock into your warm cunt with heavy thrusts, moans leaving his lips in low huffs. Mingi winces when your teeth scrape along his cock, pulling out of your mouth. He wrapped a hand around himself, slapping his tip on your cheeks and lips, smearing precum all over your flushed face. âWatch the teeth.â He didnât even give you a moment to show that you heard him, simply pushing his cock past your lips as drool spilt from the corners of your lips.
Hongjoong is shamelessly rutting into your sore cunt, nearly slipping out a few times as your pussy gushed around him. Hongjoong pins your wrists to your back, freeing up a hand to reach around you and rub your clit. The action made you jump, your body shuddering. Hongjoong bumped you through an orgasm. You couldnât go anywhere, stuck between your boyfriends as they all but used you for your pleasure. The onslaught of pleasure made you dizzy, as if having Mingi shove his cock down your throat wasnât already dizzying enough.
Mingiâs hips faltered as he pulled out of your mouth, pumping himself quickly. You let your tongue peek out of your mouth, looking up at him with pretty eyes. Mingi cursed, tilting your head back as he finished himself off in your mouth. You kept your eyes on him as you swallowed his load, licking your lips of the sticky mess. Thatâs when you finally take in the fact that Mingi was still hard, his cock throbbing and leaking against his palm. Your moans fall freely from your lips, your thighs shaking as Hongjoong harshly rubbed over your clit in time with his punishing hips.
You pushed back against him, feeling your eyes cross as he abused your sweet spot. Your body is vibrating and your mind is mush as Hongjoong sends you crashing into another orgasm. As soon as your sore cunt tightened around his cock, he let go of your wrists. Taking hold of your hips and fucking into you desperately. Heâs merely chasing his release now, brushing against your sweet spot with every rut of his hips. Your upper body fell limp against the couch, peering at him over your shoulder. You can see the quick whips of his tail from behind him, watching how his eyes hardened as he watched you fuck yourself back onto him.
Hongjoong pressed hard into your back, forcing you to arch your back as he hounded after his release. His pace grows uneven, his cock pulsing. His nails dig into your hips as he buries himself to the hilt, painting your gummy walls with his seed. Hongjoongâs voice is hoarse when he tells Mingi to lie down. He flips you over, letting you fall back onto Mingiâs chest. He immediately has his hands on your hips, holding them as he easily fills your cunt. Hongjoong grabs your thighs, holding them open as he pushes in alongside Mingi.
âSuch a good bunny, our good girl.â Mingiâs voice bounced around in your head as he thrust up into you. âA pretty cock whore, just for us.â You canât stop the whines that leave your lips as Hongjoong starts moving too. The squelching of your cunt is embarrassing, almost pathetic, as you were fucked and used. Your eyes focus on Hongjoong, whimpering as you recognize the hungry look in his eyes. âFuck, look at you. You probably wanted this from the beginning, didnât you? To get stuffed like the cock slut you are, right?â His stare is making your pussy clench, squeezing tight around the thick cocks, splitting you open. Hongjoong groaned as his eyes flickered down your chest, eyeing the way your tits bounced with every thrust you received.
Your eyes followed his, taking matters into your unoccupied hands. You cupped, groped, and squeezed your tits, pinching and tugging your nipples just like Mingi usually does. Hongjoong curses under his breath, his tail thumping against his hip. He quickly slapped your hands away, leaning down to latch onto your pert bud. The new angle had Mingi pressing insistently against your sweet spot, damn near kissing your cervix if he decided to go any deeper. Hongjoong grabbed one of your hands, pressing it to your lower abdomen. He pulled away from your chest, pressing a messy kiss to your puffy nipples.
He pressed down against your fingertips, his cock twitching within your silken walls. Your pussy throbbed with need as you felt over the now obvious bulge in your stomach. Hongjoong gathered your arousal on his thumb, harshly rubbing over your clit as your cunt spasmed. âSlutty bunny just needed their cunt stuffed, huh? Look at you, all docile and pretty.â Mingi groaned under you, his nails digging into your skin next to where Hongjoongâs marks were. Both of their paces quickened, growing unsteady as the need to stuff you full of their cum only increased.
Hongjoong rubbed your clit in tight circles, trying to knock you over the edge before they fell. That wish fell through as both of them buried themselves to the hilt, pressing impossibly close to your cervix as you felt warmth flood through you. Your back arches off of Mingiâs chest as you cum, feeling your heartbeat throb in your ears. Hongjoong was the first to pull out, hungrily stroking himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Mingi lifted your hips off him, feeling the cum leak out of your used cunt.
You lay limp against Mingiâs chest, smiling tiredly as he peppered kisses along your shoulder and neck. However, Hongjoong has a different idea. He slips his fingers into your pulsing cunt, smirking as you jolt, reaching down to clutch his wrist. âJust one more bunny; I wanna make you cum again.â
#kinktober#kinktober 2024#bubbly#bubbly writes <3#ateez smut#ateez x reader#ateez x y/n#ateez x you#ateez x female reader#ateez hard hours#ateez hard thoughts#hongjoong smut#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong x you#hongjoong x y/n#hongjoong hard thoughts#hongjoong hard hours#mingi smut#mingi x reader#mingi x you#mingi x y/n#mingi hard hours#mingi hard thoughts#Spotify
524 notes
·
View notes
Text
Clownfall: Endgame - Hello December
I am late writing and posting this, because it's nearly the end of term and I am mega busy (I have leave in two days and I am counting the hours...) BUT some stuff happened last week so let's dig in!
Also quick note before we do: I would like to politely request that you stop tagging this with "England" or "English politics". This is about British politics, not just England, and I am not English. Please do not erase me it takes SO LONG to write these thank you all and goodnight anyway ON WITH THE SHOW
Saturday, 25 November
12.01am
We begin our tale with Oliver Wright of the Times, who reports that ⊠no hang on, wait, I've fucked it, okay. To understand this story, you first need to understand Simon Case.
Simon Case is a civil servant, and current Cabinet Secretary and head of UK Civil Service
He was the highest ranking public official implicated in the Partygate scandal, though he didnât resign nor was he fined
In the Telegraphâs published WhatsApp messages from Partygate in which Tories all chatted to each other (seriously HOW do those keep getting leaked), Case made fun of holidaymakers stuck in hotel rooms by Covid regulations
In the same messages he also described some opposition to Covid restrictions as âpure Conservative ideologyâ, which is. An Own Goal
He also described BlowJo as a ânationally distrusted figureâ whose isolation rules the public were unlikely to follow, which is true but also the Quiet Part
This information is from Wikipedia, which Iâm openly admitting here, so my esteemed colleague hbomberguy can stand down.
Why am I mentioning him! Well. Case was supposed to give evidence to the Covid inquiry in October this year, but didnât because of medical leave (ironically). In November, he still wasnât back (should have isolated better, eh, Si), and the inquiry was given private medical information relating to Case (presumably evidence that heâs not just faking it so he doesn't have to be shouted at by angry judges and MPs and that).
So! On Saturday the 25th, eighteen and a half hours before Beep the Meepâs spectacular TV debut, Oliver Wright of the Times reports that Simon Case â uh, before his medical leave - advised Prime Minister Rishi Sunak that he should authorise pre-election talks between the civil service and Labour. Sunak - I suspect obviously - ignored this suggestion, in case it signalled that an election is now imminent.
According to Wright, itâs now questionable whether Case will ever return to his role.
Shame.
Monday, 27 November
2.44pm
House of Commons time! Let's see what our elected representatives are up to.
Tory MP Jill Mortimer says international treaties written 70 years ago "are not fit for purpose" to tackle illegal immigration, so we need to return to the "Deport the browns to Rwanda" plan. Ugh.
2.50pm
The following was reported by Matt Dathan of the Times, so CALL OFF YOUR DOGS hbomberguy.
James Cleverly â the newest Home Secretary, chappie who described another MPs constituency as a shithole in the House of Commons in his second week on the job â says the Rwanda policy isnât the âbe all and end allâ.
Robert Jenrick â the Minister of State for Immigration â says the policy is an "extremely important component" of the government's small boats policy.
So! James Cleverly and Robert Jenrick disagree on this matter! Exciting! Hey, Tumblrs, just for fun...
Letâs remember those two names.
2.58pm
Robert Jenrick says boat crossings have been reduced by more than a third in the last year, but that numbers are still unacceptably high.
FUN SELF-STUDY ACTIVITY: Take a moment to form an opinion of Robert Jenrick! Itâll be worth it.
Here is some information to get you started: Jenrick this year ordered some lovely murals of cartoon characters (Mickey Mouse, Tom and Jerry, etc) to be painted over at a childrenâs asylum centre in Kent. His explicit reason is because he thought they were "too welcoming" for lone refugee children arriving in the UK, and such children should not feel welcome here.
Have you formed your opinion yet? Then I'll continue.
8.13pm
Rishi Sunak cancels a meeting with the Greek Prime Minister in a row over the Elgin Marbles.
Uh, there's a lot going on here - this is about the stolen marble frescoes that should be in the Parthenon in Athens, that gross British thief Lord Elgin stole decades ago and plonked into the British Museum. Greece has been asking for them back ever since, but a small handful of old white men who are in charge of the British Museum don't want to give them back and keep stating that Greece wouldn't look after them properly, which is a hell of a claim given that Elgin literally broke one when he nicked them, and also, he fucking stole them. Anyway, it turns out to the surprise of no one that Sunak also doesn't think we should give them back, and so when the matter was raised in an Anglo-Greek meeting recently Sunak literally walked out of it, even though the meeting was actually about something else.
So HERE HE IS refusing to do any diplomacy with Greece now i.e. his actual fucking job.
This is a big deal for the immigration-obsessed though! According to a Labour source, Greece is an essential ally for any agreement on illegal migration.
And even the Prime Ministerâs supporters think heâs got this one wrong.
Wednesday, 29 November
Prime Ministerâs Questions!
This is the (televised) point in the week where the PM has to appear in the Commons and be grilled by anyone who wants to put the boot in about anything at all. Keir Starmer decides today is the day to do some actual opposition, pushes Sunak on several fronts, and pretty much everyone reckons this is Starmerâs best ever performance at PMQs. People especially enjoy Starmer calling Rishi the âman with the reverse Midas touchâ.
This is not, strictly speaking, actually funny. But it's political humour, which is like office humour. It doesn't actually have to be.
12.22pm
A former cabinet member tells the press that the Greek government are furious at Sunakâs snub. Uh oh!
Thursday, 30 November
Disgraced former Secretary of State for Health and all round human 1950s meat blancmange Matt Hancock talks to the Covid inquiry today. Specifically, to explain why he, the then-Secretary of State for Health, led the government so badly in the pandemic that we developed the second highest death rate in the world. To hear him tell it, he was an underdog hero doing his best to fight a toxic culture at Whitehall to get the pandemic handled responsibly.
The only problem with this is that it is contradicted by everyone elseâs accounts.
He is called a âproven liarâ who was âunfit for the jobâ by proven liar and unfit for his job Dominic Cummings. Former civil servant Helen MacNamara says Hancock displayed ânuclear levelsâ of overconfidence and said lots of things that later turned out to be untrue. Sadly for HandCock, he said these things to cameras that were recording him onto the telly, and so we do actually know.
Monday, 4 December
Keir Starmer talked about the economy today. He wonât rule out cutting public services, and it looks like heâs trying to tell disenfranchised Tory voters to jump ship to Labour.
Hope itâs a bluff! Very depressing if heâs serious. This is nowhere near as much fun as Tories being humiliated.
21.47pm
GOOD NEWS EVERYONE!
(This is from the Mirror, you canât destory me on your YouTube.)
Labour MP Diana Johnson proposes an amendment to the Victims and Prisoners Bill to compensate thousands of patients infected with HIV and hepatitis C through contaminated blood products in the 70s and 80s, to the tune of billions of pounds.
And it WON! Narrowly â 246 votes to 242. A huge deal, because that includes 23 Tory backbenchers. That is very bad for Rishi Sunak. He he he.
Tory MP Edward Argar had tried to sort this in adance, by saying the government would provide their own similar amendment to the bill. Basically, he realised this was a controversial bill for the party, and wanted to present a version that could be a Tory victory rather than a Labour victory and Tory humiliation.
Didnât work.
And neither did a THREE LINE WHIP for Tory MPs to vote against the Labour plan?!?? YES KIDS YOU READ THAT RIGHT Sunak didn't want people infected with HIV and hepatitis C through contaminated blood products in the 70s and 80s to receive compensation in case it made him look bad, so he imposed a three line whip to force Tories to vote against it.
And 23 of them rebelled.
And now he looks even worse.
Lol.
Tuesday, 5 December
Have you done your homework, Tumblrs? Have you remembered those names? Have you formed an opinion?
7.38am
Home Office minister and children's cartoon hater Robert Jenrick is interviewed on Sky News. Itâs ugly stuff. He refers to small boats â[breaking] inâ to the UK. He insists asylum seekers WILL start being deported to Rwanda before the next General Election. And generally does big talk about cutting immigration.
What a hero.
1.27pm
James Cleverly is in Rwandan capital Kigali, as the UK signs a new treaty designed to help score the Supreme Courtâs approval for the Rwanda plan.
1.40pm
So!
Cleverlyâs doing pretty much what he said heâd do. Heâs trying to legislate to make the Rwanda plan safer, rather than try to disapply human rights treaties. This, of course, is the Sensible Plan, if your plan is still to get people killed, but you want it to actually succeed.
But former Home Secretary Cruella Braverman is driving a load of Tories to push to disapply human rights obligations â and sheâs joined in this by Robert Jenrick!!!!
Thatâs RIGHT! Hope you remembered his name, because now heâs a VILLAIN! Or, well, more of one, and in a more immediate way. After disagreeing with Cleverly in the commons on 27 November, heâs joined Team Suella. Tonight heâll be part of a meeting between three different right-wing groupings...
1.46pm
The new treaty guarantees that, if these plans go ahead, asylum seekers wonât be returned to countries where their lives or freedom are threatened, and creates a requirement for an independent monitoring committee.
This treaty would be great if we lived in a world where the Supreme Court trusted the Rwandan government to honour treaty obligations. But we live in the world where NOT having this trust was part of the reason the Supreme Court ruled the plans unlawful.
Even if this wasnât the case, we still need new legislation, and thatâll be way more controversial than this new treaty. The legislation was said to be ready by Thursday, which is a very short turnaround that only a lunatic would believe, but in a SHOCK DISAPPOINTING U-TURN the government now refuses to commit to this.
In any case...
This is causing cracks in the Tory party.
10.33pm
The Parliament's Christmas tree lights are turned on!Â
It goes as well as anything else in Parliament:
youtube
A visual representation of the Tory Party schism.
Wednesday, 6 December
8.21am
Boris Johnson arrives at the covid inquiry. He will be questioned for two days.
He he he
10.26am
Johnson is asked why around 5,000 WhatsApp messages were lost on his phone from January to June 2020.
Steffan made this brilliant meme. Please do not grass me up to hbomberman.
11.33am
Itâs clear by now that Johnson wasnât alert to the danger of covid by February 2020. Johnson says it wasnât declared a pandemic by WTO yet, and he wasnât asked about it in PMQs. Gosh! What a good point, maybe!
Until the KC points out a troubling fact: âYou were the Prime Minister.â
Ah. Yes. PMQs are irrelevant, you see â the Prime Minister is allowed information that the opposition arenât.Â
And, indeed, he probably would have had, if he'd actually attended the five Cobra meetings about it that would have briefed him on it just as the virus was being discovered.
12.49pm
2.24pm
Iâm skipping most of this stuff, since itâs normal lies and non-specific apologies from BJ.
But this oneâs interesting. Matt HandCock claimed he told Johnson on 13 March to call a lockdown. Thereâs no written evidence of this happening. Johnson outright contradicts it.
Lol
5.43pm
Cruella Braverman rejects Sunakâs Rwanda bill. It fails the five tests she claimed his bill would need to pass.
These are tests she made up and published in a newspaper, I should stress, like they don't exist and she is not an authority. This is a bit like if I marched into your house, dear reader, and went "You are not allowed to celebrate the holidays this year because I personally said you have to pass my tests first and you haven't", and I'm pretty sure if I tried that you would drop me in a bin and laugh at me.
But, she has many supporters on the Tory right...
5.48pm
The Sunâs political correspondent says that if the Lords try to block emergency legislation, some Tory MPs reckon Sunak should call an election, fighting on Rwanda.
I desperately want this. I DESPERATELY want this. Theyâll lose that election so badly. SO badly. God, likes charge reblogs cast.
6.53pm
The villain Robert Jenrick ⊠RESIGNS!
Oh no! This is not good news if youâre the Prime Minister.
Fucking fantastic for the rest of us, though
7.26pm
Jenrick publishes his resignation letter on Twitter. Itâs two pages long, claiming the PMâs Rwanda plan basically wonât work.
Jenrickâs not wrong about that, but I speak as someone who doesnât want any version of the Rwanda plan â not the monstrous Sunak one, and certainly not the hypermonstrous Braverman one. Good. Thanks for confirming, Darth Bell-end.
8.31pm
I enjoyed this tweet.
8.52pm
Sunak writes back to Jenrick, claiming the new plan WILL work.
Which is not normally what happens?!? Normally they yell about their current madness in a letter, publish it on Twitter because no one else cares or will agree, and get roundly ignored. But, desperate times! Here, Sunakâs challenge is to try to win over the Tories who donât believe in his ability to deliver the plan. Itâs a big ask.
So what are we left with?
10.37pm
A senior figure on the Tory right is asked whether their side will kill Sunakâs bill.Â
And theyâre not sure! If itâs the only offer on the table, it seems sensible to vote for it.Â
BUT the right wing of the Tories arenât famously very sensible. Theyâll probably try and add amendments at the very least, but itâs genuinely possible theyâll reject it out of spite, because they are LUNATICS. Or as a political move to weaken Sunak.
And that's what you missed in the Tory Civil War!
(Up to last week)
498 notes
·
View notes
Note
Nobody can convince me otherwise that Price wouldn't cry if he was proposed to/proposing
He gives off similar vibes to my dad and he cried at his wedding cause he was so happy
Okay, 1) Ur dad sounds super sweet lol. 2) Price so would and have a surprise ficlet.
Would you?
CW: SFW, Price X GN reader fluff, proposals, crying
The thought of marriage strikes him as you two lay in bed one night. It's not a particularly special night; he's not fresh from the battlefield or hardening his heart to go back to it. It's just a regular Tuesday night â your arms around him, your legs a tangle of limbs in the sheets, your head resting over his chest so you can be lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart â when he thinks. . . Wouldn't it be nice to be buried under your name?
That maybe, just maybe, he'll have you to keep him from a pauper's grave. That your and his bones will be able to mix when time erodes flesh, wood, and earth between you two. That the only thing that will remain will be those gold rings.
He starts planning that morning, approaching the proposal like he would a suicide mission; he calculates every variable, scours his brilliantly sharp mind for every little detail he's catalogued about you, making plans upon plans for how it could go both wrong and right. Writing sessions of what he wants to say to you stretch long into sleepless nights, he cracks open that old dusty book of family recipes and scribbles little exclamation marks next to the dishes you enjoy, secretly taking your ring measurement so he can confidently go ring shopping.
His wallet is fat from his work, yet he picks up side jobs in the private security sector on his off time â He's happy to babysit overgrown brats if it means he can buy you a ring without blood money. He wants this to be something pure and free of the violence shrouding his life. He doesn't do it often, but some times he fantasizes of what will come next; he'd hate to wear a stuffy suit like he does his military blues to those posh military dinners, but for you, it wouldn't feel like a labour nor a penance. He's sure it wouldn't take much for Kate to get her officient license, and whenever he starts thinking of that Price finds himself smiling like a loon at the thought of you on your wedding day, bright eyed and with a big smile with his ring on your finger.
A simple question â what if you refuse? â always brings him back down to the ground and drags his heart to the pit of his stomach. He tries not to think about it (he thinks too much about it, the bloody fool)
He decides to propose on your anniversary.
He wakes up long before you, having barely slept a wink the night before with last minute thoughts running through his head. Breakfast is ready for you by the time you stumble out of bed, his beard scratching your chin as he gives you a goodbye kiss before you set out to work. He spends the rest of the day making sure the house is spotless, getting you flowers, picking out the nicest clothes you two have and then goes to make dinner.
And of course, the things out of his control go wrong on the one day he needs it to be perfect. He only notices the oven is busted when the roast he's making in it starts smoking enough to set off the fire alarm. He scrambles to salvage it but it's too late and he's left scurrying around the kitchen trying to figure out something else.
Price doesn't notice when you get home, the locking of the door and your tired footsteps betting lost in the sound of clattering pots and pans. He nearly tosses the pan he's holding when you sneak up and wrap your arms around him, pulling him back from the roaring fire of the stove to press your chest to his back.
You rest your head on his shoulder, lips brushing his neck. "Relax," You say, both an admonishment and a suggestion.
"Bloody git". Price grumbles to himself under his breath but relaxes into you, nuzzling his head against yours. "M' sorry love, the bloody oven broke and-" he clams up just as he's starting to explain, already rethinking the proposal as a whole because Christ, how can he be a good husband when he can't even make you dinner properly?
"Hey," You begin and kiss his temple, rubbing soothing circles into his side. "How about we dress up and I'll order take out huh?" You say, letting go of him and taking charge by calling both of your favourite takeout place before he even has a chance to refuse.
Price knows this proposal is dead in the water. He's seen far too many proposal videos on that TokTik app â the ones with extravagant locations and massive diamond rings gifted to the brides to be via doves â to know such a simple proposal would fly.
But he still goes along with your plan; At the very least he can enjoy the sight of you done up in nice clothes, in the knowledge you do it for him. And he's sure you love how he looks in his suit too, his beard can't hide how pink his cheeks get when you call him dashing or handsome as you fix his tie. He gets you back though, cupping your cheek when you're done with his tie so he can pull you in for a long and slow kiss. He wants to press further, proposal plans already at the back of his mind, but he's interrupted by the delivery guy. He's especially not pleased when you stick your tongue out at him like a child and scamper away to get your takeout.
After plating the food, you sit down to eat, and Price remembers to light the special candles he'd bought. The food is good even if it's not what he'd wanted, but it's easy to forget about this shortcoming of his when you're laughing and telling him about some thing that happened to you today. He listens intently, remembering why he loves you when you speak so passionately about your hobby.
Price decides this is it.
He had a speech prepared, written and rewritten a dozen times until it was perfect, the one he'd practiced all day until his throat was raw. But the words dissapear like a mirage in his mind, and even if he did remember them, it would feel too out of place. So he simply stands up, cutting your talk short. His back aches as he gets to one knee, hands shaking a bit and fumbling with the box before he presents the golden ring to you. "Do you. . ." He hesitates, takes a deep breath, "Do you want to spend the rest of our lives together?"
Your eyes flicker between him and the ring, staring, bewildered. The pit in his stomach grows with every passing second, only to swallow up his heart when you open your mouth and say "Are you serious?"
This is it, Price thinks, he's mistaken what you two had together for something it was not. He's already thinking of ways to backtrack, fat tears building at the corners of his eyes that he desperately tries to blink away.
He's caught unaware when you kneel down in front of him. There's a sheepish look on your face as you bring out your own little box. Inside is a simple golden ring, your and his initials carved into it.
You give him a wry little smile, "Surprise."
Price stares at the ring. A second passes. Then another. A third one is well on it's way before his mind finally realises what this is and a childish laugh bubbles from his chest. "You-" He reaches out and pulls you into a bear hug. "-bloody Muppet almost made my heart give out." He grouches but absolutely melts into your body as you return the hug. You feel his mighty shoulders shake and chest rumble as his laughter gets out of control, pulling you into laughing with him.
He buries his face into your neck, trying to say something but his hiccups turn the words into meaningless happy noise. He doesn't even notice when he starts to cry, but it's a good type of crying â the one where you just don't know how to express the light airy feeling gripping your chest. Price feels like his ribcage is stuffed with dandelion fluff, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
"I love you." He says into your skin, low and quiet, voice still raw as he nuzzles his beard into your neck. His hands grip you tightly, afraid to let go.
"I love you too." You say, kissing him with nothing but love and care and tenderness in your actions.
Price is running high on the buzz of getting engaged when you two settle on the couch, back in comfortable pyjamas and wrapped up in blankets and each others arms, your takeout on the table as you settle to watch a movie. Your hand finds his, two golden rings clicking together beneath the sheets, and Price feels fresh tears roll down his cheeks before you kiss them away.
Being buried under your name would be nice, but living under your name is much better.
#gnome correspondence#cod mw2#x reader#trinckets of the hoard#gnome writes#captain john price#john price cod#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#john price#x gn reader#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2 x reader#call of duty x reader#gn reader#cod fluff#fluff
387 notes
·
View notes
Note
I saw a tiktok of a man who was a chef and made his wife a recipe each week with whatever food the baby was the size of.
thatâs so Luca but desserts because heâs a pastry chef
S C R E A M I N G. That is Luca for real đ.
This was meant to be a blurb but became a full fic.
Pairing: Chef Luca x Reader
Warnings: pregnancy, pure absolute fluff, probable inaccurate food choices- if you canât eat any of these whilst pregnant, pretend you can. Luca would not make you sick. I am just an idiot. I used a mix of results on google for the size and they all say different things so might not be 100% accurate.
ALSO The baby is a girl because Luca gives me girl dad energy. Heâd want all girls. Actually heâd PREFER girls because he is a massive green flag. Fight me.
âLuca babe, the baby is the size of a blueberry!â You showed him the app on your phone. âIsnât that cute!â
This app had become your obsession. Youâd found out you were pregnant at 4 weeks (poppy seed) and made an occasion out of it. Each week youâd open the app and tell Luca how big your little baby was. Youâd always hold the app with the picture over your stomach and coo at it.
He found it adorable how excited youâd get and how youâd call the baby little proceeded by whichever seed or fruit it was this week.
âThatâs adorable, my love.â Luca responded and kissed you, kissed your stomach. âOur baby blueberryâ
***
At work it was all he could think about, his baby, a little blueberry in your womb and before he knew it, heâd drawn up a new dessert and was packing it up. This wasnât for the menu or for noma. This was all for you and his little baby blueberry.
He presented it to you when he arrived home that afternoon, grinning proudly.
âBlueberry tart with vanilla cream,blueberry sorbet and wild water mint. For my blueberryâ
Youâd of course cried as the baby hormones were playing havoc with your emotions. Luca, your darling, sweet, perfect Luca had instantly panicked and worried heâd set off your sickness and was at your side asking if it was the taste or the smell or something and offering to go out and get you anything you needed.
Youâd sobbed and clung to him and when the tears had subsided, youâd told him it was the sweetest thing and you loved it.
Heâd even smeared the cream into a heart and walked back from noma rather than risk it getting dented in the car or on a bus or train, which set you off again.
How could he be so perfect, so doting, so affectionate and so yours.
Luca had kissed you, grinned at how adorable your tears were and insisted he fed it to you on the deck of the boat under the stars.
****
The next week, the little blueberry had become a little raspberry and Luca brought home a whole batch of raspberry danishes. A classic pastry staple but youâd loved it all the same.
It was followed a grape syrup mousse for week nine which Luca spoon fed you in bed. A sticky date pudding when the tenth week rolled around. Week eleven was a lime pandan cake and for your twelve week scan when the baby had reached the size of a plum, Luca spent hours creating a spiced plum clafoutis, which he closed down the restaurant early to present to you.
Each dessert was so lovingly made and Luca began to love the challenge of creating a new dessert and even downloaded the app on his own phone so he could find out too.
After a kiwi sorbet on the thirteenth week fed to you as you walked along the canal and the honey roasted peach with almonds in the park for the fourteenth, Luca managed to convince you to delete the app and let him surprise you with the baby size. You were only all too happy to give up the app, if it meant your lovely Luca getting to surprise you.
By the fifteenth week, heâd laboured an extra two hours one evening to bring you home the first surprise size; Spiced poached pears with hot chocolate and pepper sauce. With anyone else, their husband working later whilst they were pregnant would have been an annoyance that they were working when they should have been painting the babies room or building a cot but with Luca, you fell more and more in love with him with every dessert. You knew whatever he was working on would be extra special. He loved you, loved the bump.
The sixteenth week brought avocado bars that youâd store in the fridge and end up snacking on for the rest of the week. You didnât usually like avocado but as if your baby knew, you began craving it like crazy. Luca was apprehensive when the avocado picture popped up, nervous about this weeks dessert being based around a food you were never too keen on, but when heâd given you the tray of them youâd greeted him and the bars with the same enthusiasm as you had every other week.
Week seventeen brought a naval orange parfait served to you as Luca painted the spare room on the boat in a beautiful soft yellow. A perfect neutral for your baby. Heâd built a cot by hand too and kept pausing to kiss you to thank you for the baby.
As week eighteen rolled around heâd presented you with a white chocolate pomegranate dessert and on that same day, youâd discovered the sketch book.
If he wasnât a chef, youâd have sworn he could have been an artist. Heâd drawn landscapes of Nyhaven or drawn colourful pretty flowers or feathers for you to get tattooed or doodles that would wind up as one of his own tattoos. Sometimes, heâd drawn you. Soft hair over your face as you slept, the curve of your now prominent bump that heâd talk to every night and kiss every morning before work.
Luca had always told you he was no good at school, bunked off too much to be good with Maths or English or Science, but with how precise, perfect, passionate he was about baking you knew he had to have had a creative soul so it was no surprise his art was almost as beautiful as his desserts.
In his newest sketchbook, heâd had drawn every dessert before making it. Perfect, beautiful artist style drawings and next to each one heâd dated it and written the week and the fruit and how many days until your due date.
âLucaâ you bit your lip looking down at the sketch book.
âWhat is it darling?â Heâd been busy working in your kitchen on week nineteen. From the smell that lingered on his skin and in the kitchen, you knew it would be one of your favourites. Mango.
âAre you okay? Is the baby okay, my love?â
Heâd placed down the bowl and rushed the length of the houseboat to tilt your chin up to look at him with one hand and place the other on your growing bump. He was shirtless, plaid pajama pants hanging sinfully low on his hips. You could see one of the many matching tattoos you shared scattered over his side. His vows to you down his left.
His eyes fell on the notebook and he ducked his head, blush dusting over his cute freckled cheeks. You loved when you could see his freckles, and your head instantly went to picturing a little baby with freckles just like him.
âSpoilers darlingâ he reached for the book. âWe are putting these in a baby book when theyâre bornâ
Needing him there and then, you caught his arm and pulled him down for a long lingering kiss, pressing up on tiptoes to meet him half way.
âYouâre so fucking gorgeous Luca.â
You stated before you pressed up on tiptoes and pulled him down into a long, lingering kiss.
âNeed to kiss youâ
His hand tangled up in your hair and his tongue pressed lazily against yours.
âAnd youâre so beautiful with my baby inside youâ he muttered into your mouth.
God, he was even supporting you on tiptoes one handed, another strong muscular arm around your waist.
You continued like that. A soft intimate make out session, you pressed against him until week nineteens mango bavarois with your favourite passionfruit compote was ready and Luca would pick you up in his toned strong arms like you werenât several months pregnant, sit you on the counter, stand between your legs and kiss between spoons of it.
***
âRemember at your scan last week, we put the gender in an envelope?â Luca asked you as you walked through the city on your twentieth week.
You remembered and tilted your head. âYeah I rememberâŠâ
âSo baby is the length of a bananaâŠor a carrotâ Luca explained and then paused. âI have a lovely surprise for you, my darlingâŠIâve asked one of the chefs to make this weeks. Banana for a boy or ermâŠcarrot for a girlâ he smiled softly.
âLike a dessert gender reveal?â You asked, a little smile playing on your lips. He was so thoughtful. That was so Luca and you loved it
âYeah see, I wanted to keep doing your desserts and I thought it would be a really amazing way to reveal babies gender.â
âLuca you are such a dork, I love youâ
Luca broke out into a lob sided grin
âHeâs delivering it to the boat today. I know what youâd be like if I picked it up, youâd tease me and ask if I peeked.â
âI know you wouldnât peek!â You exclaimed âYou said you wanted us to find out together!â
âI do darling and we willâŠsoonâ
That night, Luca went all out. He lit candles, set up the table and gave you a back rub before his chef dropped off the
âTheyâre here my love.â Luca said as he turned, two plates with a dome each covering âdonât worry, itâs not twinsâ he smiled and you rolled your eyes at his playful joke.
âIf it was youâd be making me double the desserts!â
He laughed and kissed you before placing yours down and then his.
âWhat do you want Luca?â You asked him and noticed the blush dusting over his cheeks
âI, uh, really donât mind, my loveâŠâ Luca said but heâd always been a terrible liar and you could tell he had a preference. âRemember darling, banana for a boy and carrot for a girl. On three okay?â He said calmly although you could tell his heart was racing.
You counted down together and lifted the dome lids
âOh!â
Before you on the plate was an expertly crafted carrot and buckwheat cake, so well designed that you could tell this chef had learnt from Luca.
âBaby girlâ was written on each plate.
âDarlingâŠitâs a girl!â Luca looked up at you so full of love, his beautiful soft blue eyes wet and gentle, his smile soft and filled with love. âItâs a girl!â He instantly came over to your side, âa baby girlâ he kissed you sweetly and then dropped to his knees and kissed your bump. âHello my little darling.â He repeated. âI already love you so much, I love you bothâ
Luca got up, linking your hands and kissed you again over and over before helping you up and leading you to the bedroom where he lay you on the bed and lavished you with love.
âI wanted a girl.â He whispered into your neck later that night âthank you so much for my babyâ
âKnew itâ you said back as you pulled him back against you.
****
Finding out the gender made it all the more real. All the beautiful that desserts that came in the form of coconut press, followed by a grapefruit pannacotta. Luca, of course, made sure it was a pink grapefruit to symbolise the baby girl.
It was the following week that you first felt the baby kick. In the previous weeks, thereâd been flutters here and there but nothing too noticeable.
âI know you must be so uncomfortable my love and please donât think Iâm selfishâŠâ he said as he rubbed your calves on a seat on the boat as you balanced a bowl of papaya cake on your bump. âBut you look so beautiful pregnant, I adore the bumpâ
âYouâre obsessed with the bumpâ you laughed playfully.
Your bump had well and truly popped. It had gone from looking a little pregnant to looking well and truly pregnant. Luca had, as youâd expected, became completely obsessed with the bump.
âCan you blame me? Itâs my little baby in there. My little papaya.â He patted it lightly and the bowl wobbled.
âLuca!â You laughed steadying the bowl.
âThat wasnât me that time!â He squeezed your calf and then it dawned on him.
âWas that?â His blue eyes lit up meeting yours and you nodded.
âThink so.â You nodded and quickly lifted the bowl off your bump and put his hand over it, placing yours over his. It was unmistakable this time. The baby kicking.
It could have been ten minutes or an hour of you just sitting like that.
âLoveâŠâ Lucaâs eyes began tearing up and you leant forward to wipe them. âThatâs our baby in there. Our baby. My little babyâ Luca rubbed his hand back and forward over, the fondest, most reverent expression on his face as the baby kicked again.
âMaybe sheâll grow up to be a footballer.â Luca said a little hopefully. âFuture Lioness captainâ he remarked causing you to start laughing.
That was so Luca. Heâd never push the kid but of course that would be his first thought.
âLetâs let her finish cooking and start walking before you sign her up to football clubs in Copenhagen okay?â
Luca put his head gently over the bump speaking directly to it. âI already love you so much.â He kissed it before he rose and kissed you âAnd Iâve loved you my whole life.â
****
The last few weeks seemed to fly through in a mix of desserts including pineapple upside down cake, cantaloupe roll, and candied pumpkin.
Youâd picked a name and the babies nursery was all but set. Luca had reassured you that; no it absolutely was not silly to want an ocean waves noises machine despite that you lived on a boat and yes you had the overnight bag packed for weeks. Luca being perfect Luca had even packed a spare one heâd taken to keeping in the car so heâd never need to run back to boat and leave you if you were to go into labour at any time.
It was the night before your due date, you sat with Luca on your boat, lying back against him, head on his chest as he had one hand on your bump and using the other to gently toy with the ends of your hair. Millefeuille with a mix of watermelon and melon rested on your legs.
âHeyâ you tipped your head back on against him.âBaby might be here tomorrow.â You whispered low and quiet in the evening âScared?â.
âNah.â Luca shook his head âItâs my baby with my darling. Feels like everything is finally falling into place, like itâs the one additional perfect thing we needed.â
Luca would have thought heâd be terrified.
He didnât know how to be a parent after all. His own father had dipped when he was three. After that thereâd been his mums boyfriend James from when he was five to nine. Heâd been a nice guy from what he remembered but eventually theyâd split too. âUncle Jamesâ had promised to still take Luca and his sister out but eventually the contact dwindled down and it was just the odd Arsenal game or a card on Christmas and eventually even that stopped and then eventually Luca hadnât seen him since he was eleven.
So it was even to his own surprise that he wasnât nervous. Not at all. To Luca, you carrying a baby that was his just made sense.
âI just know in my heart this is so right for usâ He said, a look of love in his eyes âI love this baby and theyâre not even here yet and you know I loved you the moment I met youâŠLoving youâŠhaving this baby with you is the most natural thing Iâve ever felt.â
He leant forward and stole a kiss from your tilted lips.
âI canât wait my love.â
****
#luca the bear x reader#chef luca imagine#chef luca x reader#luca the bear imagine#chef luca#luca the bear#chef luca the bear#luca x reader#why doesnât luca have a last name
105 notes
·
View notes