#never be able to get out of some of those ties etc like GIRL? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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A NOOSE TO HANG ONTO (III)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER IV

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death, weapons, violence, suggestive thoughts/comments, toxic modeling standards, food issues, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Sometimes you wonder if meeting your soulmate would even matter—it would never fix the void in your heart, you know. It would be foolish to think that it would.

But there is such a drug attached to being loved as you are, despite your flaws and failings, destined to be tied in a game of commitment. Yet the simple fact showed that, while soulmates were able to bring you color, that didn’t change people's nature.

Even among those tied pairs, divorce was rampant; assaults, and murders as well.

Soulmate Psychosis, it was called. When your mind broke from having it all figured out, or even when you knew it was falling apart.

It happened to your father and it happened to millions of other spouses too. When your entire life is already decided when you look at someone, it can be…a lot.

So, part of you was happy that you’d never know who yours was unless they told you themselves—you can hope and pray that they stay their tongue and give you a chance to fall for them naturally. Because it scared you, truly, becoming like all of the rest. A statistic.

Lord, don’t let yourself become a statistic.

Nikto silently walks at your heels as you push through the front doors of your penthouse, taking off your ball cap and stuffing it into your jacket pocket.

The man at the front desk calls to you, and you raise a hand in greeting, sliding a soft smile his way.

“Seraph!” Isaak has been working at this building for as long as you can remember—the man with grayish hair and dark eyes. A face that was sharp and a nose crooked; like a chocolate-chip cookie, dark splotches along his face led to the impression of freckles.

The man was slightly older than you, lanky, and always dressed luxuriously.

“Having a good day, Isaak? Has that girl come back and given you her number yet?” You slow your pace to the elevator, digging into your pocket and peeling out one of the keys from your lanyard for your floor. You nearly drop the thing before you snap and catch onto the metal quickly. Nikto lets off something like an annoyed growl behind you at the interruption from the man across the room.

He’s impatient, you hum and send him a little glance over your shoulder. Light eyes dig with a warning. You only chuckle and shake your head calmly. One would think that for a PMC he would have all the patience in the world.

“You know I keep trying to get her to go away,” Isaak smiles at you. “The only woman I’d accept a number from is you, my Little Angel.”

Where the flirtatious comments had gotten you into bed with the man before, now they just didn’t strike you as they had before. Not…anymore.

You clear your throat and blink away for a moment before you school your expression back to an easy malleability.

“Good try.” Your focus goes back to the keys, fingers jerkily sifting through them.

Isaak’s brows furrow at your form, perhaps a bit of offense making his face twist—dark eyes slip down your body; pupils dilating.

A black form steps slightly forward, a large shoulder blocking you from view in one firm movement. Like some wolf with its neck fur standing on end, Nikto’s head is lightly bent down; eyes so intense that they render Isaak frozen in a sense of internal instincts warring with one another.

Nikto doesn’t speak, doesn’t make a sound—only stares and doesn't blink, immobile as a stone.

The soft music of the lobby blurs to the sound of a heart pounding.

You don’t even notice, humming when you find the correctly marked key from its slate mass and moving forward to press the illuminated button of the elevator.

“Oh!” Your mind pulls itself back to the present and away from letters and fire. “Isaak, this is Nikto—he’ll be…” A pause, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you okay?”

The man looks like he’s about to piss himself.

Without another word, Isaak scurries into the backroom, the door hitting so hard closed behind him that you flinch slightly and blink in shock. Standing for a moment, you tilt your head slowly right before the elevator dings, signaling you can enter.

Nikto suddenly grabs the meat of your arm and moves you inside.

“Woah!” You call, huffing. “Careful!”

“Inside,” the PMC grumbles, eyes tight and beady.

Your feet stumble when he lets you go, having to steady yourself on the back railing so you don’t fall over and hit your face on the floor. A sharp look is leveled at Nikto as he drops his duffel bag to the ground and hooks his arms at the collar of his rig, grunting and shifting his legs to set himself.

Blinking rapidly, you sigh out a fast breath.

“You know,” you begin, slotting your key into the plaque that says your floor number, twisting, and then taking a step back. Eyes darting to your side, you ease out slyly. “I’m sure people would like you more if you had the ability to articulate what you’re feeling. I’m getting the sense that you carry your emotions around like you’re trying to choke someone out.”

Nikto glares ahead, a brick wall of nothing but a harsh breath.

You smile softly and chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get you into shape in no time.” Pale eyes slowly slide to your face and Nikto’s dead gaze stays there—brows in such a straight line it’s like looking at a statue. “I always do.”

While being around your mom led you to a subdued state, you had no trouble easing back into your usual route of subtle flirting; it was natural to you, even after traumatic events. A cushion, if you will. It felt good to still be able to regulate yourself and have some level of control over your life.

The three bodies and the Stalker, that senseless shadow, still haunt the back of your eyelids but having a distraction in the light was helping. Something new to focus on.

“We need copy,” Nikto glares at you, ignoring your soft tone.

As the elevator rises incredibly high, you hum in question, smile flicking to a confused frown. He grits his teeth under his mask.

“The key, Whelp, да?” Your eyes spark.

“Oh, sure,” you shrug. “I don’t have one.”

Nikto’s shoulders move back, blinking at you quickly. “You…” he trails off into a snarl of Russian. A hand comes up from his side to harshly dig into the bridge of his hidden nose.

You have to restrain a wide smile, the muscles in your face twitching.

When the doors open, you’re led into the sight of your safe place—an entire world away from the one outside the half-closed blinds of an opposite wall of all windows.

“I’ll order you one,” you try to reassure Nikto, sending him a side glance as you let all of the tension leak out of you as you step inside. “No worries.”

The man follows, jaw tense, as he stoops down and swipes up his bag.

“How is it that you do not have a second key?” Nikto’s eyes dart around the living room, not showing the slight way he’s taken aback by the size of everything and the design choice.

It was certainly…unique.

High mass, there were knickknacks on nearly every surface—a far-off ceiling due to the open second level where the rooms must be. There were hanging beads from the stairs, and plants that grew large and verdant; Nitko blinked at paintings on nearly every surface of the visible wall. A hanging chandelier that emits light over the antique-looking furniture of wood and velvet.

Even a taxidermy deer head, with its antlers holding jewelry that glints rich and luxurious. Books and painted bits of the walls that were near sheer fabric draped as an accessory from the top of bookshelves.

“Sorry for the mess,” you utter, sincerely, “if I’d been told that you were going to be staying here, I would have gotten the spare room ready.”

The kitchen is simple and mixed in with the living room in the form of a large island piled with magazines and notebooks.

You sigh and look around, wrapping your arms around your waist as you glance around the space. Not a stranger to the confused looks you’d get from your style.

Aly described it as a fairy tale. A hut in the woods holding secrets and magic. So different than what AMA had you displayed as—a cold angel of white and sharp feathers.

A product of some great lust machine.

“Just wait until he sees the loft,” you murmur, thinking about all of the various fabrics and tailored clothes you’d had in the open space directly when you walk up the stairs. The Dress Form torso mannequins wearing dresses you’d made with pricked fingers and shaky nerves.

You hoped he hadn’t met his Soulmate, because you’re sure it’s a hideous mess of colors up there. The thought makes you pause, and you realize you haven’t asked that question to yourself yet.

Did Nikto see color?

“No need,” Nikto immediately returns to his stoic monotone at your concern over the state of things. “I make do. Step aside.”

Slipping off your shoes, you place them in the old claw foot parlor table you’d made into your entryway storage, glancing at the void as he walks around your creaky wooden floors with his heavy boots.

“Shoes,” you remind, voice light.

The beast halts, his back to you halfway onto your handmade Persian rugs. You watch his fingers twitch around his duffel bag straps, as you go to close your secondary door; hiding the gaping wound in the building as the elevator leaves. A soft click emanates just as the man grunts lowly and lets his bag slam to the floor.

In one movement, the Russian bends down and unlaces his boots in firm and quick motions, grabbing them and turning like a puppet on a string. He plants them next to yours on the parlor table and sends you a tight look with hard eyes.

Nikto’s accent flares in his quick comment. “You are strange, Girl.”

You hum and shift out of your jacket, folding it and placing it atop the shoes.

“Oh, so I’m strange because I don’t want you tracking dirt on my clean rugs? The people you live around must be slobs.”

“We do not live around others.”

You blink, staring into his eyes as your skin pulls lightly. “Then I’m sorry. That must be very lonely.”

Nikto’s muscles tense under his gear, great thighs hardening. He growls low after a moment of stiffly watching you. “I do not need pity, certainly not from you,” and then stalks off, leaving his bag in the foyer.

Lips slightly parted, you let him walk away and snoop, taking account of the rooms and the layout for his own needs. Sighing, you rub at the back of your head before letting your hand drop back down, pulling at the fabric of your turtle neck.

You couldn’t deny that you found Nikto physically attractive—the large stature and built frame made your neurons fire, how he loped along with his bulky gear. Sure, that was natural, and despite the attitude, you did feel secure around him. He had an extensive record for a reason, and your mother would only include the best in her decisions.

It also attested to the fact that you didn’t find his aggression at all fear-inducing if that made any sense at all. To everyone else, he would be the pinnacle of an axe murderer, but, for some reason, he didn’t feel like that to you. A bit loose, sure, but the knowledge that this man was entirely mission-driven sat well with you.

It confused you—why did you not entirely mind having him around?

I can live with this, you tell yourself, brushing off your sweatpants and telling yourself not to think of the bakery or about Sergi, Yefim, or Petya; Aleksandr.

But when all that’s moved away like a curtain in front of the window, the view still remains.

The Stalker.

You still couldn’t rationalize it. How could someone do that? Be so bold and brute-like? And it was all over you.

Never had you been overconfident in yourself—you knew you had the looks and the money, the ability to do what few people could, but that had never gotten into your head. It was common knowledge that every model had a shelf-life and yours would probably end sooner than later if this kept up.

Any damage to your flesh that left long-term scarring was an instant dismissal. No negative press for AMA, either.

In all of this, you were walking a very thin path of horror and reality, like a show at a circus. And you of all people know you can’t walk in a straight line.

The overwhelming feeling of being hunted was setting in and you were entirely in the woods with blood poured over your body; weighing down a dress of linen and calling the beasts to feast upon your flesh with a ravaging appetite.

Swallowing the bile in your throat, you quickly go to find where Nikto had slinked off to, suddenly very cold and not liking the silence. On the way, you flick at your record player, and the old rusty thing spits out Clair De Lune as the glass sun catchers shaped like stars glimmer from the loft’s beams.

“Nikto?” You call in question, looking around before you murmur to yourself. “Where did you get to?”

Carefully grabbing the railing to the stairs, you watch your feet as you slowly ascend, piano music in the background; fingers tight and hard as you slide it up one at a time. You only knock your foot once, two steps from the top, but quickly recover with only a huff and a tiny chuckle.

Nikto walks through the top seating area filled with your materials and fabric, glancing at every book and measuring device that you have; the half-finished pieces. You blink and watch, wondering what he’s thinking as he clicks his tongue before walking to the first door and pushing it open. Your eyes slightly widen at that.

“Well, you sure do like making yourself at home,” your voice calls to the dark figure, and you shake your head. You begin following as if he is showing you around your place and not the other way around.

“I am doing my job.” Nikto’s voice spits out from the opening as you shuffle in. He glances around the small guest bedroom quickly. “Your home is cluttered.” The Russian mutters. “Messy.”

“I call it controlled chaos.” You ease, hands slipping into your pockets beside your phone and wallet. “You’ll find I’m fond of shiny things.”

“We can tell.” Head tilting, you restrain yourself from asking why he keeps referring to himself in the first person like that.

“You’re free to take this room if you want.” There are three doors that make up the separate walls—the one you’d both just walked through, one to the adjoining library and joint bathroom, and the other to your master bedroom with a respective master bath.

All connected to one another like a train car.

Nikto grunts and slips his eyes to the bits of personalization you’d left, though not as much as the rest of the penthouse. The bed was a Full size, there was a desk with bits of lush greenery coming off from a planter, and storage for clothes in the form of a large wardrobe you’d found in an antique store.

Classy, you thought, however, your standards for decoration weren’t the pinnacle of design. A set of Russian nesting dolls from your mother was put onto shelves, and in one of the corners, a hanging oil lamp sat above a nightstand.

Gray plush duvet and a fluffy rug you were told was purple when Alyona stayed over, with large pillows that looked like bear fur.

“Again,” you send a glance to the blank stare that Nikto keeps on you. “I didn’t know you were staying over.”

“It is… sufficient.” Gruff and final, though with an air of annoyed disgust, the Russian goes into the library second to last and then heads into your room with his broad back expanding; leaving a trail of authority in his wake.

Under your breath, you quietly mock him before rolling your eyes and following. For all this, you ended up being correct. Nikto was a good distraction.

The first thing that he notices is the stuffed animals.

They take up most of the window nook, some incredibly large and fluffy while others are small and could be crushed in his palm, even sitting atop one another if the space allowed. Nikto blinks at the sight of a very large bear plushie with a small bird on the head—little felt feet sticking out in front of it.

You clear your throat, the hot embarrassment flooding your face as your smile turns sheepish.

“Just…uhm…it’s just a little bit of an addiction.” Like the rest of the house, that fairy tale feeling emanates here as well—fancy curtain holders, old tea cups holding palm-sized pewter statues, paintings, and stained-glass lamps from the nineteen hundreds.

Pale eyes tilt their gaze down to you, silent as always.

“But at least it’s not drugs!” You push out quickly, awkwardly chuckling and shrugging your shoulders.

Your feet shift from under you, the large room that you call your own not something you planned on having to describe today. There was something incredibly intimate about letting someone into your house—someone you didn’t know especially.

Nikto puffs a bit of air in something akin to a scoff, turning his head away from you but not after a slight quirk of his brow.

“Are you sure you are not on drugs?” You snap up to stare at him, falling silent for a moment as he turns and leaves.

Gaping, you stutter, slightly amused, “W-was that a joke, Nikto?” He doesn’t answer and a slow smile grows on your lips. “Hey! C’mon did you just make a joke? Awe,” you coo, “I really am good at this!”

“Stop talking.” Nikto snarls, glaring as he goes down to the ground level. “You are making my ears hurt.”

You hurry to the stairs, following after with a steady mood, chuckling.

“If you’re going to be my glorified roommate, I think talking is part of the—” A sharp gasp rips from you as your leg hits on the banister, your foot locked through the metal as you yelp loudly at the sudden pain. In a quick tilt your vision slides, a swift sensation of gravity taking over as your body takes you tumbling backwards.

You tense mid-air, mind already made up about the incoming pain of your head knocking off the hard material, your skull rattling and splitting open; blood and brain matter spilling out to coat the—

Arms snap around your waist, legs still on the top half of the stairs and back hitting a large chest as you grunt in surprise; eyes blinking wildly.

Heart hammering, your head quickly looks up only to find the piercing eyes of Nikto burning down into you. Your nose brushes his face mask, the harsh fabric of the lover half pressing into yours.

You both stay there for a moment, Nikto’s blazing gaze unphased, it seemed, by the close contact. Inside of your gut, your stomach flips, and a tightness flares in your lungs.

Upon the air, your voice stutters out, tiny, “M-my bad.” You accent it with a helpless chuckle.

Nikto’s breath brushes over your forehead, and with a quick jerk of his arms you’re set back up on top of the stares. Even here, you meet the man’s height perfectly—him a few steps below you yet still a giant.

“This will be a problem, yes?” Nikto barks out. You steady yourself on the railing and take a deep breath. “You. You are…” His eyes twitch as if trying to find the correct word in English. He grunts to himself, fingers twitching.

You tilt your head, still calming down. Your throat is tight at the heat that still emanates from where Nikto’s hands had wrapped around you.

“...Shaky?”

“Hm,” Nikto doesn’t seem like that word fits best, but he nods once firmly, folding his arms over his chest and never once releasing you from his stare. Studying you as a monster does a maiden. “Да.”

You jerkily shrug, rubbing at your neck with one hand.

“Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you,” your lips tilt in an amiable smile—trying to play off what you say as you continue. Nikto’s body goes still, yet his attention never leaves. His eyes narrow. “I should have told you when we met, but you were, eh,” you chuckle, looking away for a moment. “Pretty quick with wanting to leave.”

A strained silence falls; an unknown emotion in the air.

“I—” Your voice is cut off by your phone vibrating from inside of your pocket, and with your hand snapping to that general area, you blink in surprise. “Oh.”

Fishing it out with awkward fingers, you find the illuminated screen and a text from Alyona calling up to you.

‘Video call w AMA & managers. 5 min. Be ready!’

“Shit,” you mutter, immediately going into your professional headspace.

But before you can rush off to grab your computer and slap makeup on your face, Nikto’s hand yanks your phone from your grasp. Blinking at your empty palm, your face darts up with a swift offense growing.

“Nikto!”

“Quiet.” The man taps into your contacts and you watch helplessly as he begins slashing in his own number with his digits firmly pressing in hard intervals to the keypad.

Huffing, you shake your head and leave him there to do what he needs to do, not overprotective of a device and more concerned with the time constraint that was leveled like a noose around your neck.

You had to look somewhat good for the call, after all, they could be waiting to tell you you’re fired.

They wouldn’t do that with Alyona there, you reason as you narrowly dodge running onto a side table before you enter your room again, though this time from the main door. Not the managers either.

Your lips pull straight.

But if the CEO was on call, then you’d have to worry. He had no problem being ruthless about policy and public image, always so pretentious with his power over all of the men and women employed at Allurement.

But then again, he had always seemed to take an interest in you, anyway.

You slip out of your turtleneck and pull on a silk top that seems either white or a very very pale color—either way, they always put you in something near to white, so it didn’t matter. Since it was a video call, there was no need to show your bottom half; the sweatpants stayed.

Makeup was the hard part.

With your nerve spasms always showing up at inopportune times, it took a long time if someone else wasn’t doing it for you. You had ways to combat it, sure, but none you could get ready in five minutes.

Three, you tell yourself.

An idea hits your head like a rock.

“Nikto!” You call, rushing to your vanity and pushing aside a plush raccoon to snag your mascara. There wasn’t time for anything else. “I have a favor!”

“No,” the man materializes in the opening of your door, the backdrop of your fabric mess in the loft behind him; the clashing of shades momentarily confuses you, blinking quickly, but you recover with a huff and a plea.

“I need you to put my mascara on—my hands are too unpredictable right now.” He’s growling in the way you’re already accustomed to. This must be one hell of a day for him. “Your job is to protect me right? I need you to protect me from public humiliation.”

“Then humiliate yourself.” Nikto’s narrowed eyes lower even farther, face turned sharply to you as you walk over and hold out the stick. “This is not my job.”

You dig hard into his eyes, serious if not a bit willing. “I’d owe you.” Your tone is hard but true.

The Russian bear’s shoulders roll slightly, getting higher and more irritated. He grunts at you. After a long and heartstopping moment, he grabs onto your pocket and slips your phone back inside, jostling your body into his as you make a noise in surprise.

In that same movement, the mascara stick is yanked from your hand and fingers grapple onto your chin.

Your eyes go wide; body instantaneously tensing, as the unyielding grip moves your chin to the side and one hand unscrews the mascara with a slight pop of the seal.

“You are dependent,” Nikto’s digits are tight, but you don’t blink or pull away as the stick spreads pigment. “I do not like it, Girl. Like child running with a knife.”

“Aren’t you such a ray of sunshine?” You grumble but stay deathly still. Nikto’s body is tight against yours, leaning over you.

The guy certainly didn’t mind getting handsy if he needed to. Thinking like that makes your feet shuffle tinily under you, a heat emanating from your cheeks and your thighs momentarily becoming stiff.

His body warmth bleeds through his bulk; the grating press of his chest plate to your upper body.

“Stop breathing,” Nikto hisses and your cheek is moved to the side, knee knocking into his leg.

You feel and see the stick descend and move your lashes delicately, quite adverse to the attitude you’re getting. The Russian is attentive and set on getting his task done, even if he despises it.

“What kind of a request is that?!”

“Hush!” He barks and you both try to glare at each other as the last of the mascara is bushed on. “Get out.”

You pull back and frown up at him.

“I’m sorry you think that your attitude is appropriate, Nikto.” With your nose in the air, your hands grapple for your laptop on the way out of your room and sit at the desk out in your loft. Tossing a stack of fabric to the floor and brushing down the surface.

Behind you, there’s a plain-colored sheet hung to the wall for conferences—and you make sure it’s in place as you plop down to your seat.

Nikto’s angry eyes bore into you from the doorway, which he slowly leans against and crosses his arms heavily.

He mutters under his breath in fast Russian, shaking his head as you unlock your laptop and log in, easily clicking where you need to go and pulling up your video call with twenty seconds to spare.

Alyona’s face appears first, looking to the side, and you send a soft smile before you unmute yourself.

“Feeling better?” The woman perks up, eyes coming to you. She beams.

“Солнышко!” You laugh, tilting your head. “No, no, forget about me, how are you?” Aly gives you her full attention. “I need to come over and visit, yes? We should have a girl’s night again. Just us.”

“I’m…alright,” you simply say, fast to reassure her of her worries. There was no need to burden the model with your fears. Not when she’s still living with her own. “And that might be a bit difficult on the ‘just us’ part, unfortunately.”

She sighs but is serious in her concern.

“New bodyguard, Seraph?” Nikto listens to everything from across the loft, and you glance up at him before you open your mouth to speak in the affirmative.

“Live-in.” Alyona thins her lips, but, surprisingly, doesn’t seem off-put.

“Perhaps that is good, hm? If it’s to keep you safe, I would be willing to deal with it.” Before you can admit that it’s not the worst idea in the world, though draining, three others pop into the call.

Yours and Alyona’s managers, and, of course, the CEO of AMA.

You have to hide your curse before it sneaks out of your mouth. Everyone greets one another, and you send polite smiles and hellos in return. Corporate professionalism a virus that sweeps your features into a mask of compliance and brain-dead agreements.

Kliment Fedorov, CEO of Allurement Modeling Agency, shows his large and round face in the very center of the screen; with tiny eyes like a fly and a bald head. He’s in his office.

The man calls your name and smiles wide, pure white teeth leaning more towards fake looking than just the results of frequent brushing.

“It is good to see both of my best girls getting along. No lasting marks, I hope?” You and Aly dart look.

“None, Sir.” You both answer, still smiling and falling in line. They only speak in English for your comfort—in your manager’s box, you see his translator lean into his ear and relay the words being let out.

“Good, good! This is great news. Seraph,” you perk up, Nikto from the back shuffling while looking around his surroundings. He picks at a piece of reflective fabric on a side table with his brutish fingers, twisting it before huffing and tossing it away. He snoops as if put off by the high-mass areas, used to order and cleanliness.

Not that it wasn’t clean, but outwardly it gave off a certain impression of clutter.

“How soon can you be back? We have had even more propositions offered because of this event.” Your lungs stutter. “Mrs. Solovyova and yourself are very profitable for the company at the current time; this only made your popularity better!”

Your manager, Kostya, spits off into his native tongue with its harsh edges. Nikto’s head shifts back your way but says nothing.

Profitable? Wanted? You can’t say you’re overly thrilled at the comments. Just like you can’t say you want to get back to work when the Stalker knows exactly where you’ll be.

Who could say when he would strike again? A day? A week? Going back to AMA would make the target on your back as large as a damn elephant.

Kliment waves a hand and your manager falls silent at the sheen of anger in his fly-eyes. He continues.

“Of course, AMA had to take precautions, Ladies.” Alyona shifts in her box on the screen, glancing to the side. “We were very close to having to terminate your deal with us. Such events are…ah, dangerous for our image.”

It’s like a punch to the gut you knew was coming. The only reason you were still employed was because of companies trying to profit off of the girls who beat the odds and survived a direct attack on one of their own.

You could already see the headlines—had seen the headlines.

Aly and you know the response you need to give.

“Thank you, Sir.” Smiles are stiff, but a sheet of pleasure washes Kliment’s face.

“Well, of course, my girls! I would never get rid of such beauties, no, no. This agency is your home—I love my women like my own.” His eyes stay on you, and your body shivers even miles away. “But lovely Seraph, again, when can we have you back? Everyone has been asking, yes? Photographers lining up! But of course, you’ll keep your assigned one.”

Everyone? You swallow down saliva thinking about crowds and the peering eyes.

“Uhm,” Nikto openly stares, and you glance up at him. He offers no help above a tilt of his head; arms over his chest. “W-when would you need me back, Sir. My calendar is always free for you.”

“Good! Tomorrow, then. Mrs. Solovyova?”

“...That works for me, Sir.”

“Perfect!” You sigh and close your eyes for a moment before the CEO jumps into business—your managers taking notes in preparation for scheduling and locations. “I will send the details over to your departments and good wishes to the companies, I’ll expect to hear of you both being in tomorrow.”

He leaves the call, but not without a smirk forming on his face.

The managers talk for a few moments, getting almost everything in order before they too leave.

Aly and you release a deep breath, both sagging. The other woman is first to speak.

“Bastard.” Nikto scoffs from across the room. You peek before you rub your head and nod in turn.

“A creep, one hundred percent.” Alyona sighs, and her palm acts as a headrest as she lays her chin on it. She licks her lips, face going hard.

“You don’t think that he…” Your brows tilt in confusion before you catch what she’s trying to say.

“No, Aly, it can’t be him.” She frowns. “T-that would be,” you force a laugh, hands beginning to spasm. Swiftly you move them under the desk. “That would be insane.”

Nikto takes his phone out of his pocket and taps something into the screen, feet spacing themselves in a display of a perfect soldier.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, Солнышко.” You turn away for a moment. “Anyone could be at this point.”

“My mother said there was a break-in at the bakery before the explosion. Someone planted that bomb because they guessed on an off chance that we would go out.” You breathe sharply. “Do you know how insane that is? Anyone could have,” swiftly stopping your sentence, you shake your head to clear it. “It’s…the person who’s doing this can’t blend into normal life. It has to be obvious, and everyone’s missing it.”

“Easy, Little Seraph,” Alyona eases, showing you a hand to get you to come back to her. “We will figure this out, yes?”

A hand rubs along your face and you whisper out, “Okay.”

“I’ll see you and the new man tomorrow—you know you can call me with anything. Nikifor and I worry about you. Yekaterinburg is a dangerous place, regardless.” You have to smile at that, lightly chuckling. Aly tilts her head as her hair brushes her shoulders after a moment of quiet thinking. A lighter air spreads out like her voice from the speakers. “...Who did your makeup in so little time?”

“See you tomorrow!” You grab the end of the laptop and slam it closed as the woman yells out to you.

“Don’t fuck him on the first day!” Wanting to shrivel up and die, you avoid Nikto’s suddenly brutal gaze and quickly push a smile to your lips.

“S…she’s joking.” His pale eyes aren’t amused.

Nighttime is a strange affair between the two of you.

You jump at every strange noise—like Nikto rearranging his room better to his standards—as you think of dinner for two. Laying on the couch, back in your turtle neck, it’s hard to focus above the scrape of hardwood and the low grunts from above; the distant rhythmic stomp of feet.

You rub your eyes and groan low. This was going to be a task, even for your usually placid attitude.

“What the hell does a monster eat?” The comment is directed at the taxidermy deer on your wall as you move to stand. “Liver? The souls of my enemies?” You blink, pausing before you mumble. “Maybe that’s not so bad, now that I think about it.”

Your pantry was already sparse at best.

Tapping the cupboard, you settle on something that Alyona had taught you to make with her mother. Cabbage Soup—Schi or щи—low overall in calories but still filling when you know your limits; healthy as well as hardy. You mess with the bag of potatoes and peel out a few, turning and setting them down on the island.

With the dark night soon setting in, you push the automatic button on your wall and watch the curtains close the rest of the way with a soft buzzing sound. Sighing, you flick on the lights and get to work as the gray blobs of potatoes fall apart under your knife, set to the side.

Cooking, while you still had a complicated relationship with food, did truly make you calm down. The tremors eased up, your feet stopped moving so much—you even felt yourself getting hungry as the ingredients were roughly chopped and dropped into a pot to boil.

If you allowed yourself it, you wouldn’t have minded growing up to be a cook instead of some form of greed and envy. But the thought of that now made you lose your appetite entirely.

When you’re half done with your tiny bowl, water on the side with nothing else, Nikto stalks down the stairs.

He takes one look at your bowl and speaks lowly.

“Щ��.” You hum, recognizing the word that Aly’s mother had said. He grunts, chest jerking as he comes around the island to the boiling pot; his back now to you. “You will starve with that small of a portion, Whelp.”

Blinking, you sip down some of the broth from your spoon and furrow your brow. That nickname still makes your eyelids narrow in slight disapproval, but you let it go.

“I don’t think so, Nikto. It’s the last bit of calories I need for the day.” Pale eyes watch over his shoulder, pulling smaller.

“I find that insulting.” His hand grabs the ladle, bringing it up to stare. The Russian’s shoulder blades pull out at the motion, the line of his spine most likely showing through his skin under all that gear. You should tell him it’s okay to take it off, but you highly doubt he ever does outside of sleep. “Pointless.”

“You try being a model,” you remark. “You’ve got the body for it, at least. I know a few people that would swoon over the height alone.”

Nikto’s visible skin pulls, biceps tense. “Swoon, Girl?” The accent makes it sound like a bark from a dog.

You take your last spoonful, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

“Like,” pausing, you swallow, “actually I don’t know what that means. Become emotionally affected, I guess?”

“I do not care if people become ‘emotionally affected’ by my height.” Nikto pulls a bowl from the cupboard—a large one. “Such things are below me. All that matters is the mission.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff. “Sour cream is in the fridge.”

The light from the machine greets you as the condiment is taken out and emptied into a nearly overflowing bowl of cabbage soup. Blinking at the amount of food that would burst your stomach if you ate it, you shrug and clean out the last of the broth by bringing the lip of the bowl to your mouth.

Nikto huffs, looking down at the soup. He pauses.

“Where is баранины?” Your confusion must be plainly stated on your face because he seems to clench his jaw and say through his teeth. “Lamb.”

“Alyona never made it with meat,” you answer, hopping off your stool and moving to put your dirty dishes in the sink. “But I’ve heard everyone makes it differently depending on where you grew up. Was that how your parents made it?”

When you turn back around he’s already walking away from you. Watching, wide-eyed at how silently he cleared the room, you make a small sound in the back of your throat as he disappears upstairs.

The silence wafts back in, only the small noise from the record player dancing in your ears.

You lick your lips for the remaining taste of food and clean up with a still-growling stomach, shaking your head at the strange character living with you. Hoping this doesn’t drag out any longer than it has to and you’re able to find the stalker soon, you hear your phone go off on the counter as you mull over your predicament.

After you put the last of the leftovers away, you pat your hands on your pants and reach for your device, flipping over the screen and reading what will probably be a text from Aly for tomorrow.

You pause.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘Why won’t you let me love you?’

Staring, whatever sense of normalcy you had from cooking was snatched away. The blood in your veins halts with a blockage of iron and fear. Instantaneously, adrenaline spikes, making your pupils go small and your jaw clench.

Hands shake. You almost drop your phone.

With a quick punch of your fingers, you delete the text and block the number—tossing your device back to the counter and moving away from it until your back hits the cupboards.

Spasming palms slap to the stone countertop, grip tight.

You stare at the phone for a very long time, hearing nothing but the dull drone of the piano, the sounds of the city outside, and the pulse of your veins. Static was in your ears.

Gasping for a sudden deep breath, you clear your throat and turn away to finish cleaning, your body unable to stay still.

That night, like the ones previous, you find trouble sleeping.

The room was only illuminated by the fairy lights you’d strung from the ceiling, a soft fade and reentry like twinkling stars hanging in a black sky. You stare at them with open eyes, laying on your back surrounded by a multitude of quilts and blankets—pillows that crowd with doughy insides.

Nikto was turning in his bed, and the movement was setting you on edge.

The PMC had ordered you to keep the door between your rooms open at night, in case something was happening he would hear you better. You held your tongue on the fact that if this creep managed to get into your penthouse then it was already over for you. Regardless, now you could hear every shift and grunt—every huff of annoyed air.

No doubt the Full bed in the spare room was too tiny for him, nothing compared to your King.

Sighing and covering your eyes with your forearm, you call out sleepily.

“Are you sleeping alright?” The shifting stops. You wait for a response but get none. “Nikto?” Nothing.

Sitting up, your large silk pajamas hang off one shoulder as you yawn; covering your mouth you stand and steady yourself on the oak bed frame. Standing so you can get your bearings, you decide to do what you normally do when you can’t sleep.

Grabbing your phone’s flashlight, you flick it on and head to the kitchen—being extra careful and taking the stairs at half the speed you normally would. In the kitchen you grab at the stacked teacups and pick one with flowers on the sides; giggling to yourself at the thought.

Magnolia Tea.

Its smell burns into your nostrils as you prepare it in near-darkness, like a beacon of light the liquid shimmers. You remember your mother making it for you after the accident—helping you to sleep and stave off the nightmares; the insomnia.

You finish your cup in the kitchen but bring the second back up with you. Spilling only a little onto the tea plate, you go through the main door to your room and then turn to the blackened opening of Nitko’s doorway.

“I made tea,” your voice echoes. But no sound.

Maybe he was already asleep now.

“No need to drink it, but it helps me when I can’t sleep. Magnolia, if you’re curious.” You chuckle, fairy lights illuminating your face. “Sorry, I’m keeping you up. I’ll leave it in the doorway, okay?”

Silence, but perhaps a tiny huff from inside the lion's den. Good or bad, you have no clue. Slipping back into bed, you try not to think about what you’re sleeping above—the letters from the Stalker’s gifts.

You’d never opened them, and you never would. Inside that lockbox is where they would stay.

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and even with the tea in your stomach, it is a long, long, time before your eyes flutter closed.

Yefim’s body dances like a puppet on a string, a shadowy figure pulling the cords and letting his decimated corpse sway; jewelry stapled into his burnt neck like a collar. A noose that your desperate fingers try to hang onto.

How long could you keep this game up?

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatos, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago

Text

"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release.

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger fanfiction #ti penso universe #ti penso uni

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intimacyequalsdeath · 1 year ago

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Bubz's Slasher Fictober Apple Crumble NSFW Alphabets Day 15: Bo Sinclair

The third week is here! I am so excited to share with you all the fun things I have planned for the next two weeks of Fictober. First and foremost this week plus an extra day so for the next 8 days there will be NSFW Alphabets.

Notes: Minors DNI, Smut and Smutty themes, NSFW.

A is for Aftercare (What they're like after sex):

Bo is well, Bo. He's not the softest person in the world but the last thing he wants you to get is any kind of infection or anything so he'll help you to the bathroom and get you cleaned up and maybe just maybe give a cuddle or two when it's all said and done.

B is for Body Part (Favorite on them and their partner):

Bo likes his hands best, I mean he works with them everyday whether it's for show at the gas station or not. His hands have been weathered by the years of working and he's very proud of that.

His favorite part of you are your hips or thighs, don't try to make him choose though. He loves running his hands over them or just staring at them as you walk. They're his favorite thing to mark up with hickies even if your shorts are long enough to cover them up.

C is for Cum (Anything to do with cum):

Bo's cum is really thick and boy is there a lot of it when he cums. Don't even think about wasting it though. If he cums inside you he makes you position yourself so it doesn't drip out and if your able to get pregnant well that's a plus too. If neither of those things though he makes you swallow every last drop and then open your mouth to make sure you've swallowed it. Bo doesn't like to waste.

D is for Dirty Secret:

Bo will never ever tell you this but sometimes every so often he has a thought of what if you went down to his room under the station and he watched you get off with one of the people he ties up. He's almost positive if he ever brought it up that you would shoot him down and he doesn't really want you to get involved like that anyway. Never the less he still pictures it from time to time.

E is for Experience (How experienced are they?):

Are you kidding? Bo has all the experience in the world. Even before he tied up girls underneath the station back before him and his brothers even took over Ambrose. His high school years even if they weren't always spent at school served him good in the experience category.

F is for Favorite Position:

Bo likes just about anything where he doesn't actually have to put any work in. He has long days at the station and dealing with his brothers, don't make him work here too. His personal favorite is probably cowgirl or something along those lines though. He likes putting his hands behind his head being the cocky bastard he is and watching you do all the work.

G is for Goofy (How serious are they?):

You can laugh and giggle all you want he doesn't really give a fuck but him? nah. If for some reason he wants to put in work instead of just letting you service him he's going to take it as serious as any other job he does on the day to day.

H is for Hair (How well groomed are they?):

He keeps it trimmed and neat, but don't expect anything special just for you when the two of you start sleeping together.

I is for Intimacy (How are they during the act, romantic etc):

As previously stated multiple times Bo is Bo. Most of the time he's going to want to just fuck and not much else, however if you catch him in a good mood or on a special occasion he tends to ease up for you. Whether it's holding you a little tighter or making more of an effort to be gentler with you, He'll at least try.

J is for Jackoff (Do they masturbate and how often?):

Bo masturbates oftenish. I mean have you seen all the photos he keeps, Although when you come around most of the photos in his basement and that he keeps for personal use will start to turn into pictures of you. So when he does jerkoff it's always to his honey.

K is for Kink (Their kinks):

Bo is big into roleplay, you as a victim lost in the Ambrose and him as well, himself, but he lives for this. Don't be afraid to run and give him a good chase too.

Bondage is also a big one for Bo. He'll tie you up and then just sit and watch as you devolve into cries at him pleading him to touch you. He's already mean as fuck so this is perfect to him.

L is for Location (Favorite places to have sex):

Bo is classic so he'll mostly want it in your shared bedroom at the house, however if he's feeling adventurous he'll call you down to the station so you can do it in the chair he has in the basement. Just maybe try not to think about how many people have been tied their before you.

M is for Motivation (What turns them on?):

Literally everything about you turns Bo on, but if you really wanna get him going. Let him find you in the kitchen in the mornings in one of his shirts, wearing only his shirt and nothing else. THAT is what makes Bo go absolutely feral.

N is for No (Something they won't do):

Bo won't share you at all. Oh it's been awhile since his brothers have had sex? well that's too fucking bad they can tie someone up like he used to do.

O is for Oral (Oral Preferences):

Receiving is Bo summed up in one word. Again, He works long days at the station and keeping Ambrose up and running. He might become a REALLY good giver but he needs to be in a REALLY good mood to do so.

P is for Pace (How fast or slow? Are they rough?):

I honestly think Bo can do both slow and fast, as I've been saying a lot of Bo's sexual escapades depend on his mood and this is no different. If he's angry he's fast and rough but he also will never turn down sleepy slow morning sex.

Q is for Quickie ( Do they like quickies?):

Bo's down for really anything. Sure he prefers to take you in his home in his bed but if he needs to get a quick one off at the station in between victims then so be it.

R is for Risk (Are they down to experiment?):

If you bring things up to Bo he'll do them for you and if likes them well enough he'll start doing it more often but he's not really the one to bring up anything new to try as he's satisfied with things the way they are.

S if for Stamina (How long can they go for?):

Bo can go for a few hardcore rounds. If you wanna continue after that if you've got the stamina then feel free to ride him but don't expect him to do much work.

T is for Toys (Do they use toys and do they like them?):

Bo won't use toys or anything like that on himself, but if you have them and wanna try them out on yourself or wanna look into getting some he'll gladly help you out. He especially likes the remote control ones he can tease you with the best.

U if for Unfair (Do they like to tease?):

Bo is the king of teasing, don't be surprised if he brings you to almost tears some times begging for him to give you some kind of release. He's Bo Sinclair, he can be mean as all hell if he feels like it.

V is for Volume (How loud can they get?):

A few grunts and groans is all your really ever going to get out of Bo. He's not one to be loud himself even if his brothers are out of the house and there's no one else in Ambrose anyways. He wants to and likes to hear you scream though so don't be afraid to make enough noise for the both of you.

W is for Wild Card (Random things):

Sometimes Bo has nightmares about what happened during his childhood. Those are some of the only nights he'll seek you out for cuddles. He'll let you hold him as he falls back to sleep knowing that he's safe and not there anymore.

X is for X-Ray (What are they packing):

Bo is big, about 6 to 7 inches at least but he's also thick. Like REALLY thick, Bo aims to fill you up and that's exactly what he does.

Y is for Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

Bo is mean, sure but he's also absolutely all about you so his sex drive sky rockets. If you think it was a lot before you came along you haven't seen anything yet.

Z is for ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep?):

Like I said in Aftercare, He won't fall asleep right away cause he at least wants you to be cleaned up and all before he does. After that though it's pretty much lights out for him. He's got early mornings no matter how late he stays up and needs to get to bed.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #halloween #bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair smut #Fictober

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kimpossibly · 2 years ago

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— dating dick grayson

ੈ✩‧₊˚ sfw & nsfw under the cut

PAIRING: dick grayson x fem!reader WARNINGS: there is some nsfw content underneath the cut (i labelled it so it can't be missed). there are also mentions of fighting, cuts, bruises, general vigilante stuff. SUMMARY: just some cute (and some spicy) headcanons for dating our beloved nightwing

NOTE: I love writing for this character so much — specifically because I've heard from sooooo many people that my boyfriend looks exactly like him. It actually became such a recurring joke with my friend group that we dressed up as Dick & Barbara Gordon for homecoming. But the resemblance is so uncanny it's actually insane — hence why I love this character so much. I hope you guys enjoy this thing I wrote at three in the morning!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ sfw

Dick is so protective, just as a person. Of family, of friends, and especially of you.

If you're a Titan like him, he's the first to jump to your side in a fight — not because he doesn't think you can handle yourself (he knows you can) but because he can't bear not having you in his eye line during a fight. If something were to happen when his back was turned, he'd never quite be able to get over it.

In the middle of the fight, he's constantly shouting to you, asking if you're okay, if you need help. And after the fight he's the first one to you, asking if you're hurt.

And if you're a civilian and you somehow get caught in the middle of his work? Oh my God this man will lose it. His top priority disappears and is instantly replaced by making sure you're safe and well out of the way of danger.

The 'patching up each other's wounds' trope is strong with Dick

He always wants to know how and why each little cut and bruise got there

❝ Wait, where did this one come from? ❞ ❝ Remember when the guy pulled out all those little throwing knives? ❞ ❝ Ah. ❞

I feel like his love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch — he loves both giving and receiving them.

He'll always pull you aside to tell you he loves you before he goes into a fight.

He'll reassure you with forehead kisses instead of kisses on the lips. They just feel more safe and comforting.

But the ultimate way he makes you feel safe and comfortable is by cuddling. He loooooves cuddling.

Nothing makes him happier than wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight to him. He loves falling asleep that way, tangled up together, because it lets him know that you feel completely safe around him.

He knows he can be an imposing person, so he always does his best to make you and everyone else feel safe around him.

And let's be honest, that man is a giant teddy bear.

But he can be pretty scary when he wants to be.

Like I kind of said earlier, if someone is messing with you, he's the first one to be by your side to defend you

At the end of the day, he loves coming home to you and knowing that you'll be there for him every step of the way.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ nsfw — mentions of hickeys, oral (f & m receiving), praise, roughness, fingering

Dick is a pretty selfless person — he's always concerned about other people, he's a bit of a people pleaser, etc.

Thus I firmly believe he's a giver over a receiver.

They don't call him Dick for nothing—

He also definitely has a praise kink, both for giving praise and receiving it.

His favorite, of course, is calling you a ❝ Good girl ❞ and telling you how well you're doing.

He loves to go down on you. There's nothing he finds more beautiful than looking up at you from in between your legs, seeing your face contorted in pleasure as he brings you over the edge.

He also looooves when you pull his hair. It's a sign that he's doing well at making you feel good. This ties in with the whole praise thing.

He never pressures you into anything and always makes sure to get consent before doing something.

He also loves to wake you up by going down on you. He obviously asked for consent the night before, but he just loves the surprise of it.

Or he'll even just wake you up by pressing kisses to your neck and gently fingering you

It isn't until you're awake and moaning that he'll smirk at you and say good morning.

The auDACITY

And if you want to go down on him? I mean...he won't refuse.

I don't think his initial instinct is to be very vocal, but once he feels perfectly comfortable and safe with you, oh Lord is he vocal.

He's a very gentle person in general, but every once in a while he needs to let off some steam.

You'll come back from a fight and you'll barely have the time to shut the bedroom door before he's pulling you to him and kissing you.

The suit stays ON

He can get a little rough, but he always makes sure that you're okay with what he's doing.

But he loves after care — and he's great at it too

Like I said earlier, he's a cuddler, but if you're both up for it he'll jump in a shower with you

He doesn't normally like to leave marks because he doesn't want the others to start asking questions, but every once in a while he likes giving you a hickey or two.

But he places them strategically on your collarbone, where they'll be just barely hidden by your shirts and revealed by the merest tug on the neckline (and yes he does take advantage of this)

You're a little more enthusiastic about hickeys than he is

Luckily, in his, er, line of work (???) hickeys can more often be explained away as bruises

Like if it ever gets brought up, he just brushes it off.

❝ What's on your neck? ❞ ❝ It's uh, just a bruise. ❞ ❝ Oh. Looks like a hickey. ❞

Dick will just kind of freeze up, caught of guard by the directness of that statement, and you'll just smile and wrap an arm around him, pressing a kiss directly to the so-called ❝ bruise. ❞

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kit-walk3r · 1 year ago

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The Evans as parents

Here’s something a little different 🙈 Enjoy!

Tate

I hate to break it to people but Tate would not be too involved as a dad

He’d probably be one of those dad’s who pops up every once in a while to do something fun then drops the kid back off at home and disappears for another 6 months. Obviously he can’t do that because he’s, ya know, dead but you get the vibe

Ooo, maybe Halloween is the day he does something with his kid. Since he can leave the house Tate goes somewhere, maybe the park, and meets them and they spend the day together before Tate has to go back to the house. Honestly it’s the child’s favourite day of the year and even though they do notice that their father never ages they don’t ask questions because they’re just happy to be with their dad, and Tate is happy to be with them (since it’s just one day he can have fun with them without full parental responsibilities)

⬆️ If the kid isn’t Satan. If that child is anything like Michael then Tate isn’t interested and will continue spending his days being miserable in the murder house

Kit

Isn’t it obvious? Father of the year

Kit spent a good few years as a single father between Grace and Alma’s deaths, Jude moving in (and then dying ☹️) and remarrying and let me tell you, he was the best father to those kids there could ever be

He’s mother and father to those kids. He does everything for them. He makes their lunches for school every morning, braids Julia’s hair, cooks them dinner, makes sure their clothes are washed and ironed etc., everything a mother is expected to do. He plays games with them both in the backyard, as well as with their trucks and dolls, he helps them with their homework, reads them bedtime stories. Anything those kids ask him to do he will do

When he remarries Kit is hesitant about going back to sharing parental responsibilities because he’d spent so long being the sole parent to Thomas and Julia but he slowly lets that go and welcomes you to into the family as a mother figure to the kids

He’s still the only one allowed to braid Julia’s hair though

Kyle

Kyle tries to be the best dad he can be. He didn’t have a great relationship with his own dad since he walked out on him and his mum (which Kyle hates him for since it was a catalyst for what his mother did to him) so he wants to offer his kid a much better childhood than he was given

He doesn’t have the money to buy them expensive gifts or take them on days out or vacations but he tries to make up for that in any way he can. Almost every weekend is spent out doing something that is free, like park or perhaps a museum when they’re older. He just wants to give his kid fun memories that will stick with them

Kyle’s a young parent, barely twenty, with not much life experience so he’s not perfect and he’s going to make mistakes. He has some days where he acts more like a brother than a dad which can often lead to some trouble but he’s doing his best and that makes him a good dad

He completely cuts ties with his mother after his baby is born. He can’t allow her in his life anymore when he’s caring for someone so vulnerable

Jimmy

Jimmy’s probably the most scared of being a dad, mostly because he’s scared that his kid will have hands like him and will face the prejudice and hate Jimmy has faced his whole life and that he won’t be able to protect them from it

His kid has his hands? Jimmy will teach them from day one that they have nothing to be ashamed of and that there is nothing wrong with them. He’ll instil into them that they should be proud of who they are and that they’re special.

His kid doesn’t have his hands? It sounds mean but Jimmy can’t help but feel a slight bit of relief knowing that they won’t be subjected to the things Jimmy was growing up. He’s still as protective over them as he would be if they did have his hands (especially if they’re a girl) but there’s other things he has to worry about (like someone breaking his little girl’s heart because Jimmy is that sort of a father)

Jimmy would make sure your family live a stable lifestyle. No travelling all over the country as a spectacle like Jimmy did growing up. No, you’d all live in house in a nice, safe neighbourhood where the kid(s) can make friends and have a fun, happy, loving life

James

The child would be his pride and joy but let’s be honest, James is rich and from the 20s. He’d have someone else do most of the parenting

James has plans for the child to become his little protege once they’re old enough and he wants to show them all the perfect ways to kill someone (like how he taught the other serial killers from Devil’s Night)

Even if they were just a few months old James would talk to the child as if they were an adult. He refuses to do baby talk and finds it demeaning. No child of his will be spoken to in such a way

Would definitely name that child after himself if they were a boy. James March Jr. If it’s a girl you can choose, he doesn’t necessarily care

Rory

The ‘fun parent’

Rory is essentially a big kid himself so the most caretaking he does for that child is playtime, and at the most inconvenient times. You’ve just got them settled for bed and then Rory comes in and suddenly there’s a game of hide and seek or tag playing

Rory uses his kid to help him rehearse for auditions. If they’re a baby then he’ll just sit them in front of him whilst he practices his lines and pretend they’re the casting director but if they’re older he’ll give them a copy of the script and have them play the other part

Rory will invite his kid to set all the time, much to the director’s frustration. He says it’s because they want to see what their daddy does but it’s really because he likes to show off to them, but also give them a fun day. He’ll let them meet all the other actors and stuff, give them a really fun day

Rory is definitely the type of parent who does matching halloween costumes with his kid

Kai

Kai finally has his Messiah baby

He has a rota for all the girls of the cult to take turns taking care of the child as that’s the woman’s job

He will spend time with the child and will be their dad but he won’t do any of the actual proper parenting stuff. He’ll occasionally read a bedtime story but it will be about some cult leader or something else traumatic which really isn’t appropriate for like a 4 year old but Kai decides that the kid needs to be toughened up straight away

Although he’s quite angry with everyone else, Kai tries to keep his temper to a minimum around the kid. He still clearly resents his own father and the anger and abuse he inflicted on the Anderson family and although Kai has very questionable morals he doesn’t want to be such an awful figure to his child and cause any sort of emotional hurt that could have a lasting effect on him

Austin

Even if he wasn’t taking the pill Austin would have enough inspiration from his child, who would become his muse

This kid would be so impeccably dressed, all their outfits would be perfect every single day. Austin is a fashion icon, why can’t his kid be?

Austin’s self control gets a little better once he becomes a parent. Kids are very accident prone so Austin has had to deal with his fair share of cuts and bruises, meaning he’s had to learn to control himself around blood so he doesn’t do anything stupid (like suck the blood out of their finger like Harry did)

When he’s taken the pill and is writing a new play Austin can be a little… distant. Not neglectful, just that he is so focused on his play that everything else around him is kind of irrelevant? It’s not as if he leaves the kid alone, they’re being looked after obviously, but they’re just not his number one priority when he’s in writing mode :// when he’s not writing he’s the complete opposite and that child is his world

Austin and his kid definitely do karaoke together. Move over Belle, baby Sommers is Austin’s new partner

Peter

Peter’s like Rory and is the fun parent. Remember what he was like with Billy and Tommy in Wandavision? He’s like that 24/7 with his own kid

Good luck if that child ends up a speedster like Peter. They’ll rarely be around. Peter will be racing them all the time. Sometimes he’ll let them win and then act really sad that he’s been beaten by his like 7 year old

If his kid doesn’t have super speed then once they’re old enough Peter will run around with them on his back to make them feel better about it. He even gives them their own mini goggles so they can feel more like dad 🥺

Yet another Evan character with daddy issues who wants to make sure he’s there for his kid since his dad was never there for him

Colin

Colin’s not necessarily the fun parent but he’s the softer parent

He’s the parent the kid will go to whenever they want something because they know he’ll say yes. He’s kind of a pushover like that. He can’t say no to them. He tries to, honestly. He tells himself ‘no more. I’m not letting this kid walk all over me’ but fails every time. All they have to do is pout and suddenly Colin is down $20 or is driving the kid somewhere you’d not let them go

He does have his stricter moments, but they’re rare. If the kid does something pretty serious then this side of him comes out and he will be dishing out punishments like grounding them but he hates doing it and feels awful afterwards, even though he knows it has to be done

He’d do anything for his kid and has considered quitting being a cop just so he can be at home and see them more. Honestly, he kind of struggles being a cop after becoming a dad anyway. He thinks about some of the stuff he’s seen in the past and knows he wouldn’t be able to stomach that if he saw it now he’s a parent

He’s pretty protective, but not overbearing. He’s seen how cruel the world can be and just wants his child to be safe

Dad!Colin fic based on this here

A couple of these I feel like would make cute fics. Would anyone be interested in me fleshing some of these out into oneshots? Let me know!

Taglist: @jellyluvr @howtobesasha @dewberryobssesed @luv4evan @kaismanwich @violetharmonstwin @daylas-life @mariefics

Want to join my taglist? Just reply here!

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btr-rewatch · 2 months ago

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Big Time Rush Song Rankings (+ commentary nobody asked for): "BTR"

I was bored. Decided to go through their albums and put them into a list from favorite to least favorite.

"Worldwide": Is it possible this song is overrated and hyped too much? No. This song was on heavy rotation for me from the moment I heard it. Wonderful song, 10/10. Full of love and yearning. Their all white outfits in the music video? Iconic. My mom's friend's daughter went to one of their shows and was picked as the Worldwide Girl, and young me didn't handle that well (I wasn't even AT the concert, so not like I had a chance, but still). I'm almost over it.

"Til I Forget About You": When they would show the music video for this during commercial breaks on Nick, I would leap from the couch and do the dance along with them. There used to be a good analysis post breaking down each of the boys' sections in the song and how it correlates with their personalities in the show and how they deal with heartbreak (there's also one for "Famous" that does the same).

"Big Time Rush": I used to sit on the school bus and stare blankly out the window listening to this one on repeat at like 7:45 in the morning. Just...not even awake yet but psyching myself up to live it big time.

"Famous": This one is pretty much tied with "Big Time Rush" in my head, and I'm tempted to bump it to 3, but the song's theme ultimately wins out. Love this song. Can't help but see it in a weirdly haunting light due to the above mentioned "Famous Analysis" post that I read over and over when I was younger and changed the way I saw the song from that point on. Thank you to Swedish girl-group Play for giving us this song. (I assume most people in the fandom have seen or heard the Play version already but if not, check it out)

"Halfway There": Ok, so. I love this song, but EVERY TIME I listen to it, I'm filled with slight annoyance over the fact that it's the "different" version than was originally released. When this single was released, it was KENDALL who sang the opening lines ("When the chips are down, back against the wall" etc) and then James who did his part later. That's the version I listened to for months before they got rid of it and replaced it with the version that appeared on their album. It was a jarring experience for me, and I've never quite fully recovered. The song will forever sound slightly wrong to me because of it.

"Stuck": Prior to starting this blog and doing the rewatch, I hadn't heard a lot of their songs for years, and I had completely forgotten this one existed. Like, it had been wiped from my brain. Rediscovering it was fun.

"City is Ours": Fun fact-my sister is scarred for life from this song and can no longer listen to it because when she was younger, she used it as her alarm tone to get up for school. It's forever associated with waking up in a panic early in the morning and has been ruined for her since the show's original run.

"This is Our Someday": I feel like this song is one of those forgotten ones. I don't remember it being big either in the show or outside of it back in the day (and it has the second lowest listens on Spotify). I do like it, though. Such a hopeful tune, and the line, "One is good, but four is better?" That's a good one. So true, guys.

"Count on You": This is a sweet one. I LOVE the music video for it in the Jordin Sparks episode. It's just. It's smooth. It feels like silk in my brain, though it's not one of my faves. I especially like how Logan's part, "What would I wanna do that for?" comes right at the "four" mark in their counting. Very nice.

"Big Night": Was never really a fan of this one because something about the way the music is structured bothers me but it's super sing-able, so it gets some props for that.

"I Know You Know": This one was going to be number 12, but it gets a bump up due to the acoustic version from '22 giving me slightly more appreciation for it. My original list didn't even include this song because I totally forgot about it until just now when I was going through the album.

"Oh Yeah": Not much to say about this one. I didn't really listen to it when I was younger because it was a "James song" and he was my least favorite of the guys singing-wise. (I am SORRY James stans) Love the spinning Logan head in the music video, though. I remember the fandom really enjoying that part.

"Nothing Even Matters": I simply don't have feelings about this song one way or another. It's just there.

"Any Kind of Guy": I have bizarre issues with this song. Gives me sensations of unpleasant colors and patterns. Zig-zaggy and burnt orange and brown. Bleh. Last place for "Any Kind of Guy." I think the silly music video with all the costumes didn't help.

#big time rush #btr #miscellaneous

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thisisthinprivilege · 1 year ago

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thin priviege in rave/festival/EDM culture

I have always loved raves and music festivals since I was an early teenager (I'm 23 now). Since I've been 18 I have been able to travel around to different festivals like Ultra, Zoo, Cochella, Bonnaroo, etc. And because I live in Vegas I have been able to attend some of the most elite clubs where internationally famous DJs have played. In many ways I am aware of how incredibly lucky I am to have the economic privilege to do all of these things thanks to my very supportive parents (they were hippies and enjoyed quite a few festivals in their day I'm guessing).

But instead, I want to talk about thin privilege at these events. The events themselves have become incredibly fashion conscious these last few years. People plan their outfits far far ahead of time and put so much thought into them. Which is great to some degree. But for me it is incredibly frustrating. My thin friends that I go with were tiny shorts and skirts, wear body paint and next to nothing. I am far from slut shaming them, I encourage them and help them plan outfits. I am happy for them. They are often asked by event photographers to take pictures.Their instagram photos get 100s of likes, DJs invite them in stage to dance. They look great and everyone compliments them. It seems that dressing up is part of the fun for them. It is pretty much expected that you'll look good at the events, instead of actually enjoying the music. Not to mention the amount of people, that wear fat shaming clothing items that say things like "no fat chicks" and or "body by god and iron". As if being thin is all about being blessed by god and working out, not simply just genetics. Thin girls wear shorts that say bootyful and get applauded and agreed with, not laughed hysterically at.

But then there is me. I am 5'6 and about 278. I have trouble in a size 24, usually the largest size available in places to do have larger sizes in my area. I feel often as I am somewhere between small fat and just simply fat. I know I don't have it to the worst, but growing up in where literally everyone is hot and thin, I often feel much larger than I am, and I am usually the fattest person in the room, and I am then treated the worst because of it. As you guys and FBP have mentioned, fat shaming is usually relative, which I can 100% attest to. I only realize that I am not alone when I visit other cities where people are my size or larger.

I cannot ever find festival clothes that will fit my body and look good on me. The best I can do is usually wear leggings or tights with large men's hunting tops (those bright yellow/green/orange tshirts) and try and repurpose them to have ties, holes, etc. I've become really good at it (at least, I think so) and no one ever notices. I put just as much into my outfits and yet I never get noticed. I was even asked to step out of a picture because all my friends had on matching clothes that I couldn't fit into and therefore couldn't wear. I had to go as the fat friend on the side.

When I'm not going unnoticed, the stares i get are always out of disgust. People cannot fathom why a fat girl would bother with one of these events. Apparently only thin people in cute outfits can like EDM.

I just wish that the attention could go back to the music and happy community vibes and not the fashion of thin people.

#thin privilege #body policing #clothes #submission

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h3k3t · 2 years ago

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Namora overstimulates/edges you ~🧸

I imagine namora tying you up fucking you till there’s no tomorrow

“I-it’s too much please” you beg her to stop rubbing your sore little clit after your fifth orgasm of the night, her fingers inside of you relentlessly hitting that spot over and over and over again she chuckles at your fucked out blissful face, your eyebrows scrunching in pain and pleasure. She starts to fuck you faster on her fingers, you don’t know why but your hips start to chase her movements . As your thighs start shaking you start to feel that tingly feeling in your tummy.

“Is it too much little one?” She laughs you whine and nod vigorously when suddenly she takes out her fingers “N-No please! I was so close” you sniffle, tears forming in your eyes “please I’ll be good for you ma’am let me cum please” she looks at you smiling bringing her fingers up to your mouth “Je’e” (open) your suck on her fingers savoring your taste. She has lust written all over her face watching you with her bottom lip in-between her teeth she takes her fingers out “good girl,I’ll let you cum don’t worry little one” she kisses your temple.

Your mind goes white after she removed her mask momentarily and puts her warm mouth on your puffy pussy she takes her time lapping up all of your cum from your previous orgasms. She hums into your cunt sucking on your clit, you squirm as your moans get louder and louder. “Please please please please, wanna cum ma’am please” you start begging she looks up at you from her position “Máanen princess” (go ahead princess) she smirks and goes back in to swirl your clit with her tongue. Your back arches as your orgasm approaches your grip onto the binds she has you tied up in “thank you! Thank you-“ you cry out as your orgasm washes over you “oh mphmm fuck” your mind goes blank as she slows down her movements.

As you come back to consciousness she’s by your side cleaning you up with a warm rag and a glass of water. You wince when she cleans inside of your thighs “you came pretty hard little one, I thought you passed out” she chuckles. You hum not being able to speak correctly. She smiles and kisses on the inside of your thighs “you won’t be able to walk tomorrow princess, I’ll take of you. Rest for now” she gets up to discard the items she used to clean you up.

I have no words.

*Side note* sorry if there is any spelling mistakes or error lmao

I also imagine namora being a nurturer (I tried to write that in with the aftercare part at the end) also what names do you think namora would like to be called in bed? And which ones would she call you. I tried to feel out how “little one” and “princess” would fit for her calling the reader those names and “ma’am” for her but lmk your insight lol *im rambling I’m sorry* ~🧸

🧸ANON?! BESTIE?! Did you want to kill me? WELL You did it! AND NOW I NEED RESUSCITATION

I NEVER WANTED TO BE TRAMPLED BY NAMORA SO MUCH I SWEAR—I don't have words either, because your confession is PURE GOLD, SIS 💥💳💥💳

To answer your questions:

I see Namora as a full-fledged dom, she sure loves to discipline her partner, but I am absolutely convinced that at the same time she would like to worship you as if you were her goddess or nymph. And what better way than in the aftercare? Namora would mainly take care of you (clean you, hydrate you etc...), often loves to take a nice scented bath with you or simply pamper you and kiss every single inch of your body.

Mainly I believe that in moments of total romance or intimacy both namora and her partner would call each other "my Goddess" "my nymph" or "my jade" (I read somewhere that for Talokan culture jade is the stone that symbolizes love or what kind you give to your beloved). However during sex I think Namora would appreciate being called "ma'am" or some sort of appellation in regards to her military role at Talokan; "little one" or "princess" would be perfect for her partner instead. They're pretty good!!

Anyway feel free to chat all you want, don't apologize bestie!

#namora #namora x reader #wakanda forever #black panther #[ h3k3t confession ]#🧸anon

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dany36 · 1 year ago

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after months of putting it off i finally finished xc3 future redeemed with 25ish hours in yaaaay time to put this thing to rest with some extremely junk thoughts below (with spoilers of course)

i gotta be honest, i wasn't really looking forward to playing through this dlc ever since it was announced. it came out in...what? april? may? i forget, but it was around the time that i was playing the dlc for horizon and then i think totk dropped after that and i just kept using that as excuses to not pick it up and play through it. plus i wasn't a fan of the design for older shulk (yeah yeah i know inspiration from dunban but idk just personal preference that i didn't vibe with it) and well rex is probably my least favorite protagonist tied with the dude from tales of arise (lmao i forgot his name), and really overall i didn't care to play as them again, so i mean not the most perfect material for me to look forward to.

anyways, some positives:

-seeing colony 9 again was cool but the excitement to callbacks to places in xenoblade 1 kind of wore off in xc3. so when i heard the original colony 9 overworld music it didn't make me flip my shit as when i would see references to it in the base game. it was more of a oh that's cool i guess. same with valak mountain even though when i played DE i was so excited to see it again.

-might be because it was a dlc and the world wasn't as unnecessarily huge and empty to explore as in the base game but i actually was having a better time exploring this world than the base game's. finding relics and containers was actually useful and rewarding (and necessary i'd say!) this time around instead of finding your nth useless drop-off container or whatever those things were in the base game that i just stopped bothering to pick up.

-oh in comparison to finding and sending of husks which i again lost incentive to do very early in the game, finding city survivors was better because at least you would get to see colony 9 grow etc.

-the chain attacks are still as fun as ever and FR is no exception. it was great hearing the chain attack music again!

-i felt like the bosses were harder this time around? alpha kicked my butt several times before i was able to beat him. i mean i certainly didn't have the best gems (sorry, not gonna go farming!) and didn't unlock all the slots for accessories/gems/affinity growth but it was a nice change having to be on my toes and carefully plan my chain attacks instead of just doing whatever like i would do in the base game lol.

-glimmer actually? sorry that your dad is rex but your healing powers saved my ass so many times in the last battle that now you get an honorific mention. like...this girl was just ON. TOP. OF. IT. i'm a bit confused about the instrument theme that she had going on though--was this an xc2 reference that i'm forgetting or something? like did pyra/mythra really like music? lol. anyway i really liked her and nikol's friendship and the bits that we got to see of it, it's why i never changed their unity combo because they are besties and they always attack together :) OH and that sidequest that ends with A volunteering to teach glimmer how to play the lute was cute, especially since that sometimes you get to see them practicing together at rest spots. i wish we had gotten more types of those sidequests but well, can't have it all i suppose.

-A. i was very wary about her character starting the dlc but she actually ended up growing on me, design-wise and battle-style wise. her friendship with matthew was interesting and i liked how she would compliment matthew's wild and reckless side. idk not much to say here other than i thought she was cool despite me being judgement about her character initially lol.

-matthew. pretty fun protagonist. it was like having reyn as a protagonist except with a bit more smarts. again i was wary about his character starting off but his personality as a protagonist was refreshing and he was pretty fun to play as, too.

the negatives:

-the secret locations were...pretty lame? they were in the base game as well so idk what i expected. i'd get to a secret location and i'd be like oh....is that it? i don't remember xc2's secret locations or how they'd compare but i know most of the time xc1's would get a little bit more of a reaction from me.

-the affinity scenes oh my god. they were so boring and meaningless to watch most of the time. i think i watched at least like 80% of them and there wasn't really anything that would make me look forward to watching them like xc1 future connected's. i think in one of them you're just talking about the fighting machines that they're building in colony 9? or looking at a tomb?? like idk i certainly wouldn't feel like i was growing my "affinity" with any of the party members! plus the fact that they were just like shots of the scene you were looking at instead of seeing the characters interact (like with FC's) would just make them feel even more souless. idk maybe i'm just so jaded about this whole thing now but i just didn't really feel it when shulk talked about fiora at the overlook park or dunban outside of his house. i guess it also doesn't help that he's talking about them with people who don't know anything about his world so that must be weird to him too. so i mean idk i'd always look forward to the heart-to-hearts in xc1 and affinity scenes in FC and here it was just like maybe one or two that i was like "wow i'm so glad i got to see this!"

-ok this is pretty random and i'm not sure it's a negative but i was just reminded of this when talking about the previous point: towards the end the whole party is walking together towards prison island and within earshot of everyone else shulk is talking to A and he's like "hey, A, when I refused to become a god..." like lmao imagine being nikol or glimmer and hearing THAT sentence. like WHAT hahahaha like SIR what do you mean!!!! anyway!!!

-na'el. i'm sorry but...why am i supposed to care about her again other than she is matthew's sister? she likes kids and likes to play the piano? unlike N who i got to sympathize with after learning his origins, i never really cared much for na'el and actually was like "whatever lady, i don't care much for you!" whenever she'd show up, so i wasn't able to really to connect to matthew's struggle or whatever. like i know she's supposed to remind us of N/moebius with her being like "i don't wanna fight anymore i just want things to stay as peaceful as they are RIGHT NOW in the city!!" but idk i never found her character to be too sympathetic or interesting for me to care about, so her whole thing was just....pretty weak to me which is kinda bad considering how much of the game seems to revolve around her.

-again this isn't exactly a negative but one thing that confused me was that i'm PRETTY sure matthew mentions the queen of keves being imprisoned in the castle, which is something that nia also mentions when you rescue her in the base game. so is the reason why shulk and them are not worried about that atm is because...of the truce...with Z...and...alpha being the main threat?? i mean I GUESS but unless i misunderstood (not sure because as soon as i heard that i was like uhh HELLO??) it just seems kind of weird knowing that melia is captured (unless matthew meant the "fake" melia which to him would be the "real" one since he wouldn't know) and they're just like yep!! that's right! she's imprisoned! anyways.

uhhh this is getting way longer than i wanted it to be so i'm just gonna wrap it up and say yep, that was A DLC alright. i mean again this is just me being jaded but after i finished xc2 and saw that they were trying to connect xc1 with xc2 i was just like...why lol. considering how i thought xc1 ended pretty well?? i just never really cared about how this whole thing would connect, so i don't really remember ANYTHING about xc2 other than how much i did NOT enjoy it, i never played its dlc because i didn't care about the lore. while i was playing the dlc i know some xc2 stuff flew right over my head, and i'm rusty on my xc1 lore, but again, xc2 disappointed me so badly that i just never really bothered to keep up with the overall lore. i enjoyed some parts of xc3 yes but after i finished it i was never like oh i hope they make a dlc of this and that!!! unlike when i finished xc1, where i DID want to play Future Connected because of how miserably things ended for melia in regards to her dead family, her people, her half-sister who apparently hated her (BUT LUCKILY RECONNECTED WITH AT THE END), and her whole hometown being fucking destroyed. might be me being biased because melia is like one of my favorite characters ever but i mean...who wouldn't want to know what would happen post-xc1 to such a tragic character? which is kind of funny to say considering that we more than likely would not have gotten FC if it hadn't been for xc2 lol.

anyway, overall i don't really feel too strongly about this dlc. i was just mostly going through the motions and trying to get it done so i can just move on with my life lol, i got other games to play. like sure it was great seeing the worlds at the end unite once and for all and apparently there were some xenosaga references towards the end to make this whole thing be in the same universe (which flew over my head since i'm not that familiar with xenosaga), so that's cool and all, but idk rex and shulk sacrificing themselves and the game trying to make me feel sad by having nikol and glimmer run up to them because those are their dads!!! ;( just made me shrug and be like "ok i guess??" yeah i'm tired lol.

oh well, for now time to wait for the next game in the xeno series!!!!

#xc3 #xc3 criticism #xc3 future redeemed #xenoblade #character hate #junk #god i wanted to keep this short because i don't feel too strongly about any of this but there i go babbling again #i could make this longer but again...i've already spent too much time having conflicting feelings about xc3 #i sound like a xenoblade hater but i'm as much of a xenoblade hater as i am a zelda hater and boy do i love zelda games #despite the recent hard times #anyway i'm glad i'm getting through my to-do list of videogames for this year at least!!

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