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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 1 year ago

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These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Expect grammatical errors.

While walking around town on a date with Prince Silvio, I saw a corner bustling with activity.

Silvio: "It's an event where you can enter a raffle based on the total amount you spend shopping."

Emma: "So that's what the ticket I got when I shopped earlier was for?"

Townsman: "The first prize is this one-of-a-kind gorgeous tea set!"

In the center of the crowd, a beautiful, delicately crafted, blue color tea set shone brightly.

(Wow, you can win that in the lottery!?)

Emma: "Prince Silvio, can I try?"

Silvio: "You look like you're having a lot of fun with this lottery. Go on."

Emma: "I'm going to win the first prize!"

I lined up at the back of the crowd, and after a few minutes of waiting, it was finally my turn.

Townsman: "You're next. Go ahead, draw one of these."

(Which one should I choose? This is making me nervous.)

I picked one of the tiny shells from the box offered to me.

Emma: "This one! What's the prize?"

Feeling anxious, I checked the underside of the shell and found the words "8th" written on it.

Townsman: "Ah, too bad! The 8th prize is a participation prize. Here, it's a discount coupon you can use in town."

Emma: "Thank you!"

After the drawing, I rushed over to him.

Emma: "It was a participation prize!"

Silvio: "Getting the first prize is not that easy, you know?"

Emma: "I thought I could win it since you're with me."

Silvio: "You've got a lot of guts to make me your lucky charm."

As a punishment, he roughly tousled my hair.

Silvio: "Do you want to draw again?"

Emma: "No, once is enough."

Silvio: "I thought you wanted it?"

Emma: "Of course I wanted it, but I'm more interested in the thrill of not knowing what I'm going to win."

Silvio: ".........."

Emma: "What's wrong?"

Silvio: "I just thought it was a typical thought from someone who is not materialistic."

Silvio: "Let's move on to the next store."

Emma: "Got it! Thanks for sticking with me."

Emma: "Then, let's go to..."

I spread out the map I had marked and returned to our date.

A few days later, he came to my room carrying something mysterious.

Emma: "What's that expensive-looking box?"

The excessively decorated box made it difficult to gauge its purpose just by looking at it.

Silvio: "It's a raffle. You drew it the other day, right?"

Silvio: "I thought maybe I could come up with some clever business idea using this. So go along with me."

I couldn't keep up with the sudden turn of events, but the last words reminded me of something.

(Did he make it because I mentioned I enjoy it?)

(But then again, nothing is impossible with this guy.)

I spoke up to cover up my smile.

Emma: "If that's the case, I'm happy to help!"

Seeing him smile with satisfaction made me happy, too.

Silvio: "Drawing alone would be boring, so I've also prepared some prizes."

Emma: "It's not something expensive, is it?"

Silvio: "Ha? It's not like that. You wouldn't accept it even if I prepared it for you."

Silvio: "It's something you're more likely to enjoy."

Emma: "What is it?"

Silvio: "Well... you know, things like roses, sweets... ah, something like that."

(He suddenly started slurring his words. And I feel like he's getting restless.)

(I guess I'll find out if I draw one.)

Silvio: "Tch, forget it! I changed my mind!"

Emma: "What? Why!?"

Emma: "You even prepared prizes, so at least let me draw once."

Silvio: "No. Let's do it next time."

(He's getting so agitated it's making me even more curious!)

(Is there something strange or unusual among the prizes?)

(But if he's not letting me draw even once for that reason, then perhaps the prizes aren't things in the first place.)

(Considering he knows I'm not materialistic, he'd probably choose...)

Emma: "Could it be that the prizes are somehow related to you?"

Emma: "Maybe a coupon to have a drink with you?"

Silvio: ".........."

Emma: "Or like words of love from you."

Silvio: "Hey, I said it's over already!"

(This mix of embarrassment and anger confirms it!)

Emma: "You really know what I want."

(He probably thought hard about it and made it while feeling embarrassed.)

Just the thought of it made me smile. I felt like I might even burst out laughing.

Emma: "Fufu, thank you."

I kissed his cheeks several times to express my joy and gratitude.

Silvio: "You always do things so suddenly..."

Emma: "Well, now that I know what's inside, I'll draw!"

Silvio: "When did you get the box!? Hey, give it back!"

Emma: "Nope!"

(There's no way I'd let go of it now that I know it's a box full of his love.)

I put my hand inside the box while evading Silvio.

Feeling more excited than any other previous time, I carefully selected a single seashell.

#ikemen prince #silvio ricci #ikepri jp #ikepri silvio #ikepri translations #cybird #ikepri

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gauloiseblue · 5 months ago

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What is IOFAB König's kinks if he has any? And intimacy stuff that isn't necessarily sex stuff? Cuz there's like this thing that I'm rotating in my head that is... very indulgent and shameable ... and it won't go away ;_; it's not related to sexy stuff (nor is it even related to him) but I just wanna be a self indulgent vindictive little baby fantasizing about being evil... Ninaaaaaa ;_;

The way you write König (all of them and not just IOFAB hubby) is just so... WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Like, I feel like breeding kink, primal play (the chase part and hunting), and biting kink are already a given (extremely indulgent hc is overstim) 🤔... He may not like kids that much but kids are permanent and very binding and [insert random words that if I was more eloquent and not dumbed down by horny, would be here]. Primal play is obvious, I feel like if he's sure she really won't get away, he would have a game of hide and seek or catch with her in the forest and whoever wins gets a prize 😏 (I would elaborate but it is way too shameable). Biting kink is just so interesting to me because while he is The Hunter defined by his patience, he is obviously way more feral and animalistic than the animals and wife he hunts down, he would leave bites all over that ranges from love bites to hickeys to straight up just normal bites (not enough to draw blood but would leave a mark for a short while).

VERY SHAMEABLE AND EXTREMELY SELF INDULGENT but I like to think that he likes to use his wife as a chew toy and a fidget toy/stress ball/plushie. By that I mean he likes cuddling his wife and just gets very handsy EVERYWHERE (this would probably get worse once the children comes). Touches ranges from nice massages to groping her to squishing her to holding her to just straight up fingering her. Squish wife for good luck. He also likes pulling her to him or pinning her down and just puts his mouth on her EVERYWHERE. Kisses to her face. Hickeys all over her neck. Bites along her thighs. Nibbles everywhere. Sometimes he kisses the back of her hand and also her palms which is so sweet... then he softly bites her hands, marks her, nibbles on her etc etc

I am way too shameable I can't think of vindictive thoughts of vengeance without my brain doing horny thoughts (God made me horny so that I wouldn't be evil)

We're SO back at our bullshit 🙌🙌🙌

I don't think he has a specific kink, other than doing-whatever-I-want-to-my-wife. If we talk about intimacy, I think he's the type who doesn't talk but shows it thru action instead. He won't say something like "You're the only one for me", instead, he'll literally search for her in the next life. Which is very romantic if you ask me XD

Also, what's that thing that's been rotating in your mind? You have to tell me 🫵

Tysm for liking my version of König 😌 I know he can be OOC sometimes, but he's fun to write

I guess you can say that those are his main kinks, especially primal play because he likes all the run and chase 🤔 breeding kink, not so much. He just likes the idea of marking her, literally or figuratively. I kid you not, I've thought about a smut where he's 'playing' hide and seek with her, and whoever wins gets to demand something from the other. Which is just an excuse for me to write animalistic sex where König holds her body down really tight

YES!!!!! THAT'S LITERALLY THEM 😭😭😭 like, what's up with the dynamic of a dog and its chew toy. They..........

#you wouldn't know touch starved disease is a thing until you became König's wife #he LITERALLY dies if he can't touch her #little-shit-with-zero-control ask #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #konig x reader #IOFAB #könig cod

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reasonableapproximation · 1 year ago

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What I remember of The Iliad so far

(Emily Wilson's translation, listening to the audiobook so I can't easily look things up. I could check against wikipedia but it's more fun not to.)

A priest of Apollo is sad that the Greeks have his daughter and asks for her back with threats and maybe also bribes. Most of the Greeks want to give her back but Agamennon is like nah fuck off. He fucks off and prays and Apollo starts shooting them with arrows, these particular arrows are disease so they start getting sick.

Achilles is like "geez Ag, give the girl back already". Agamennon: "fine but I'm taking this other girl you've kidnapped instead". Achilles objects because she's hot and Agamennon gets all the best prizes. He gets close to drawing his sword on Agamennon but Athena tells him not to.

Odysseus goes and sails off and returns that girl and they sacrifice a hecatomb with the people they're returning it to, they eat and drink and be merry and I guess Apollo stops shooting them with disease arrows.

(Wilson talks about how she tried very hard to use language that would be familiar to modern readers, and then uses words like "hecatomb" which I had to look up, and "argive" which I eventually realized probably means "from Argos". Also: apparently they ate their sacrifices? That makes a lot of sense in terms of not wasting food.)

So instead he goes and sulks, and prays to his mother Thetis. He wants the Greeks to start losing without him. She says she'll talk to Zeus. She does that and the gods squabble a lot. It seems Zeus likes Troy but Hera really doesn't for some reason? She tells Zeus he can sack three of her most favorite cities if he lets her sack Troy. No idea why she hates it so much.

Anyway Zeus tells someone to give Agamennon a dream where if the Greeks attack that day they'll win glorious victory. That person gives Agamennon a dream where if the Greeks attack that day they'll win glorious victory. Agamennon wakes up and describes a dream he had where if the Greeks attack that day they'll win glorious victory. The same dream is described three times over, I guess Homer was paid by the word.

So the Greeks line up and we get backstory on all of the leaders and how many ships they brought, but I think no mention of how many men they brought. The author says in the notes why she likes these lists, I just found it boring. I think there was one for the Trojans and their allies too?

(Aside, the logistics of this war are a mystery to me. It's been going... maybe not ten years yet but I think at least seven? How many combatants on each side? How many of them have died? Where are the Greeks getting food? Where are they getting all the animals they sacrifice?)

They fight, which is described like: Diomedes stabbed (name) in the chest. He was from (town) and had once (random piece of backstory), and he died. (Name) was killed by Diomedes, who stabbed in the throat; his wife and children would never see him again. Then Diomedes stabbed (name) in the thigh,

Anyway Diomedes is amassing a kill count but Paris challenges someone to single combat, whoever loses their side will give up. I have a feeling it's Meneleus he fights. Meneleus is winning but then a god teleports Paris back to his bedchamber. So the Greeks have won but then a god convinces one of the Trojans to shoot Diomedes, it hits him in the thigh and it all begins again.

Athena tells Diomedes to go on a rampage, he'll be fine, just don't fight any gods except Aphrodite. So he does that, and he encounters Aphrodite and injures her, and some other god has to come save her from the battlefield. Then he encounters some other god, maybe Ares, and doesn't fight him.

(The gods' powers are not at all clear to me.)

(Maybe it was during this rampage or maybe some other time, Diomedes encounters someone who for some reason tells Diomedes his backstory, and Diomedes is like "bro, your father was my father's guest at some point! You should totes come over some time after all this! Let's swap armor!" So that's a thing they do instead of fighting.)

I think there's some more godly bickering at this point, and then Hector comes out to fight and Zeus is slinging thunderbolts at the Greeks from Mount Ida, having told the others that he's the strongest god and they can't stop him even if they all band together, which Athena and Hera get mad at. Or maybe he's mad at them. Or both.

So now the Greeks are losing, Hector kills lots of them and then challenges one of them to single combat. No one wants to accept because they'll lose but someone tells them off and then some of them do, and Ajax fights him. Ajax seems like he's actually winning but then Apollo talks to Athena and Hera and they agree to break things off, so that fight stops? And Ajax is sad because now he thinks he could have won.

I've lost track of when this happened, but at some point the Greeks built a wall to protect themselves. Poseidon gets pissy because it's better than the Trojan walls that he helped with, but man, if they can out-build you in a few hours you maybe didn't do a great job. But Zeus says when they go he can tear it down so fine.

Fighting is happening and the Greeks are losing, and one of them says "there's nothing we can do, nothing can change Zeus's mind", and then a bit later someone prays and changes Zeus's mind a bit.

And I think around now night falls and they settle down.

All the greeks are asleep except Agamennon who is thinking about what to do. He runs into Meneleus who wasn't asleep either. They agree to wake others and talk. Nestor also wasn't asleep, and scolds Meneleus to Agamennon for sleeping but Agamennon defends him because no! Meneleus was not asleep!

They agree that they need Achilles. Agamennon sends some of them to talk to him, and tell him that if he'll come back to fighting, Agamennon will give him twenty cauldrons, and twelve tripods (no idea what these are in context), and seven race horses whose winnings alone would make a man rich, and seven Lesbians, and the girl he took back at the beginning whom Agamennon swears he has not slept with as would have been normal, and three towns, and one of his daughters in marriage with no need for Apollo to pay bride price.

So they go and tell Achilles that if he'll come back to fighting, Agamennon will give him twenty cauldrons, and twelve tripods, and seven race horses whose winnings alone would make a man rich, and seven Lesbians, and the girl he took back at the beginning whom Agamennon swears he has not slept with as would have been normal, and three towns, and one of his daughters in marriage with no need for Apollo to pay bride price.

And Achilles is like yeah but I gotta be honest, I'm pissed so I'm not gonna fight for you. I'm just gonna sail off in the morning. Phoenix, you can stay and come with me if you want. Phoenix is old and scared and once got in a fight with his father over a prostitute (whom his mother had him sleep with so that she wouldn't want to sleep with his father any more), so his father cursed him not to have kids of his own, so he raised Achilles like a son, so he's tempted to leave with him. He stays overnight.

That plan is sunk. So Diomedes and Odysseus go do some spying. At the same time, someone goes to spy on the Greeks in exchange for a promise from Hector for all sorts of rewards. But Diomedes and Odysseus capture him, and get him to tell them the layout of the Trojans and their allies, and then kill him. And they go to the furthest allied encampment and kill a bunch of dudes and steal their horses and come back.

And I think that's as far as I've got so far. I'm sure I'm missing a bunch of stuff. Notably I know that Helen (remember Helen? this is a war about Helen) appears a few times, I just don't remember when. I don't remember if we quite find out what she thinks of this whole business. I'm pretty sure she loves her father in law, but I think maybe she wants the Greeks to win, but maybe also likes Paris when he's heroic and fighting the Greeks and looks down on him when he's cowardly? Super not confident.

#the iliad

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crimsonedquill · 1 year ago

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Could you do a Imelda x Male MC (smutty) where before one of the timed races they make a bet and the MC lets her win and offers to buy her the newest broom but she wants something more from MC?

Consolation Prize (Imelda Reyes x m!MC)

Imelda ends up offering MC a special kind of consolation prize after he loses a time trial...

The amount of SMUT requests I'm getting all of a sudden – I guess I've tapped into a well of certain... cravings 😂

This took a bit longer than anticipated but I'm always happy to go the extra mile for my favourite Slytherin boss bitch 🖤

Content warning: NSFW (18+). For obvious reasons.

MC would have never described himself as a competitive person, if it hadn’t been for Imelda Reyes.

She’d smelled blood the moment he had first shown some interest in one of her time trials, and then she had him practically in her grasp before he even realised it. She was on him like a hawk, daring him to go higher and faster with every challenge, to provoke him just enough to keep drawing him back despite the demand of his studies. It didn’t take long for the other students to start commenting on how much time he spent outside of the castle, with Sebastian asking if he was going to make another blood sacrifice to Medusa every time he spotted him heading outside in his flying gear.

MC, for his part, didn’t mind the taunting. In fact, he’d come to rather enjoy flying with Imelda, particularly how she kept pushing him to seek out his limits and hone his craft. In her defence, he also quickly figured out that behind the snarky comments and cantankerous facade was a passionate girl simply yearning for an outlet, a suspicion she confirmed when she trusted him enough to open up about her dreams and aspirations. Their bond grew stronger and stronger as they kept challenging each other to be the best version of themselves, never passing up an opportunity for a competition.

That said, MC couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to what they both referred to as their simple friendship. He sensed it in the way she kept making seemingly offhand comments about his physique, or how her gaze always lingered just a little longer than necessary when he mounted his broom (though of course she kept insisting that she was merely assessing his technique). He wasn’t able to deny that her competitive spirit wasn’t at least a major turn-on either, though he couldn’t tell whether she was playing hard to get or simply looking to get a raise out of him – either way, he wasn’t going to risk his chances by suggesting something she obviously didn’t seem into half the time.

— — —

Imelda was already out doing practice laps by the time he came trudging up the Quidditch field, broom in hand. He took a moment to admire her flying as she soared around the pitch, her face holding an expression of complete concentration as the tails of her uniform fluttered behind her, like the wings of a large emerald bird. She caught sight of him and landed in the grass, stepping off as he walked up to her. “Hey, Imelda.”

“Took you long enough.” She turned to him with a big smirk on her face. “Got lost on your way here, as usual?”

MC shrugged. “Just figured I would give you the time to practice. I know you’re going to need it.”

His taunt drew a chuckle from her; he’d learned to speak her language a long time ago, to no insignificant expense of his own. “Let’s see if you fly as well as you talk. Nothing fancy today, just a single lap around the lake. Fastest one takes the win.”

“Sounds fine by me. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly finding himself with an idea. “Hey, I think I’m feeling lucky today. Care for a little wager?”

Imelda cocked her eyebrow in a way that made his heart involuntarily skip a beat. “Well, don’t you just know how to get a girl all excited? Spill it, flyer boy, what do you have in mind?”

“Right, here’s my thinking: if I win… you take me out on a date.”

“A date?”

“Only because I know it would be more of a humiliation to you than any other punishment I could come up with,” MC grinned. He knew he was betting big, essentially daring Imelda to admit to her interest, even though he was fairly confident she wouldn’t be able to resist the challenge. Sure enough, after a few seconds of contemplation, she nodded. “All right, not like you stand any chance to begin with. What’s in it for me though?”

“Well, I heard you’re in the market for a new broom. How’s that for a reward?”

“Piss off, ain’t no way you can afford that.”

MC shrugged. “I won’t need to.”

She gave him a funny look before smiling. “Fine then, you’re on. Just don’t come crying to me after I kick your arse.”

“I’d love to see you try.” MC gestured to the pitch. “Ladies first, then.”

Imelda wasted no time in mounting her broom and positioning herself at the start line. They exchanged one last look before MC drew his wand and fired off red sparks to mark the start of her lap. He kept a close eye on the time as she raced around the lake and stopped the counter as soon as he saw her arriving over the stands at the other side of the pitch.

“Three minutes and twelve seconds,” he said on her approach. “Not bad.”

“A slam dunk,” she smirked. “Are you honestly still even going to bother?”

“Hey, I’m not going to pass up on a free Butterbeer. Just watch me, I’ll even throw in a new record.”

She chuckled, automatically causing him to smile as well. He reckoned it’d be hard to convince any outsider that they weren’t absolutely flirting right now, even though he still wasn’t exactly sure where that left him.

MC mounted his broom and took off as soon as Imelda had given the signal. He did great on the initial stretch, blowing through the first couple of hoops with ease, so much so that his thoughts started to wander again by the time he reached the halfway mark. Considering he was very well in a position to win this thing, would a date really be the best way to win over Imelda? He supposed she would respect him for having beaten her in a fair fight, though it was hard to imagine the usually coolheaded Slytherin cherishing affectionate feelings for anything other than Quidditch – to not say anything of the fact that she probably wouldn’t open herself up to be vulnerable under any circumstances she didn’t control, like when they’d had the conversation about her family and flying ambitions. No, he sensed he was entirely betting on the wrong Hippogriff here.

He decided to slow down a little bit as he came up on the last bend, just enough to give Imelda the edge while also making sure to not arouse any suspicion. By the time he landed back on the pitch, he exerted himself to conjure up his best winner’s smile. “Well – how much time did I beat you by?”

“Bad news stud,” she said as she clearly made no effort to mask her glee, “three minutes and sixteen seconds.”

“Damn.” He slapped his broomstick in frustration. “Well, I better start saving, since it seems like I’m going to be in your debt for a while –”

“Mhm.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he certainly didn’t fail to notice the coy expression on her face, or the way she kept averting her gaze before finally looking back at him. “You know, since you’ve been a good sport and all – I suppose I could give you a consolation prize of sorts. A way for us to both get what we want.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just that –” She took a step towards him and flashed him a smile he had never quite seen before, “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to take a ride on.”

A silence fell between them.

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“You mean –” He swallowed. “Right now?”

She shrugged. “I’m game. Unless you don’t feel up to it, of course –”

“Uh, no, I definitely do.” He stepped up to her. “I’d very much like to do this with you, Imelda.”

She smiled as she took his hand. “There’ll be plenty of time for smooth talk, pretty boy. Right now I’m just eager to get a piece of my prize. Let’s go.”

MC was practically floating the entire way to the changing rooms. Once inside, Imelda led him into a small office just off the Slytherin changing room, which he presumed to be the team captain’s quarters. He watched her seal the door with a locking charm before she pocketed her wand and slipped her robe off her shoulders, leaving her in her pullover and trousers as she turned around to him. “Are you going to just stand there?”

Following her lead, he cast a nervous glance at the canvas walls as he relieved himself of his flying gear. “Are you sure no one will be able to hear us?”

“Not here, no. Enchanted walls. All the adrenaline gets me horny as fuck after matches, so I need my space to unwind.”

His head started to spin merely at the thought of Imelda fresh off her victory, sitting here by herself all sweaty and gasping as she worked her dripping cunt to release. She seemed to notice the expression on his face as she strode towards him with a sway of her hips and grabbed the front of his pullover, running a finger down the fabric. “There’s a good bunch of things you might not know about me yet.”

His tongue clicked in his dry mouth. “Tell me more.”

“Hmmm, you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Lips grazed his lobe, passing along words that made him sway unsteadily on his feet: “I bet you’ve been wanting this for a long time, to fuck this nice, athletic pussy –”

His heart was pounding in his ears as she eagerly nuzzled his cheek, her lips finding his, conquering them with ease. He tasted the desire on her breath, leaving him throbbing hard against her palm. He felt her mouth settle into a wicked smile before she withdrew. “Not so fast, though. My prize, my terms. If you’re going to get in on this, you have to earn it, understand?”

He flashed her a smile. “Competitive even in bed, aren’t you?”

“You know me so well. Good, that’ll only help you.” She kissed him again before seizing him by the front of his pullover and practically flinging him across the room, landing him right on the chair in the corner. He was allowed barely a second to recover from his surprise before she was kneeling before him. He reached out to help her loosen the string of his trousers, but his hand was immediately met with a firm slap. “No touching. I want to see how long you manage before you’re begging to put your hands on me.”

At this point, he felt compelled to inform her that that would probably classify as cruel and unusual punishment, though no room was left for coherent thought as she pulled his bottom garments down to his ankles in one swift move. His cock instantly sprung to attention, a large drop of precum spilling from the swollen tip. He was proud to observe at least a glimpse of shock on her face before it settled into a grin, fingers stroking his thigh. “So this is what you’ve been hiding underneath all those clothes… colour me surprised. You’re packing a bloody nice tool, MC.”

Any words he might have wanted to utter in response were lost in a groan as he felt her fingers around him. Her face was frozen in concentration, tongue slightly peaking out of the corner of her mouth as if she were flying on her broom, chasing after a particularly elusive goal. She rubbed up and down a few times, smearing moisture along the length of his cock as she seemingly tried to get a sense of his girth.

“Hmmm yes,” she mused, “I’m going to have a lot of fun with this.”

Despite his best exertions, he failed to prevent a grunt from escaping. She brandished an evil grin as her hands rested at the base of him, feeling him pulse in her grasp. “You can have it, you know. My mouth on your cock. All I need to hear is a ‘pretty please’.”

Merlin, yes, he wanted to –

But he saw the trap for what it was and he knew he wouldn’t be doing himself any favours by being a pushover. So he persisted, bracing himself against the back of the chair as her expert hands worked his prick, using his own slick to coat him top to bottom. His breathing came in heavy and irregular intervals, bearing his desperation for relief, though fortunately it appeared that Imelda’s own impatience was catching up with her.

“Hmph, stubborn one, ain’t we?” she scoffed, using her thumb to spread out the blob of precum welling up from his slit all over his red head. “Fine, then. You’re lucky I’m dying to have a taste.”

He groaned as he felt her warm breath on his hardness, her tongue dragging along his entire length before she flicked at his tip, sending his mind spiralling into deeper depths of pleasure. “F-fuck, Mel…”

The corners of her mouth curled into a smile as she licked his head some more before finally closing her lips around him. His chest heaved as he saw – felt – her beginning to engulf his cock, dimpled cheeks swelling as her head bobbed up and down at a steady pace. She used her tongue to apply pressure on the sensitive spot at his base, chuckling as she felt him twitching in her mouth. He was so utterly mesmerised by the sight of it all that he had to marshal all his strength and willpower to keep himself from placing his hands on her temples and forcing her down until he was buried all deep and snugly inside her throat – but he only clenched his fists, his pride winning out on his lust for now.

He wondered if Imelda sensed his struggle, for she withdrew briefly to smirk at him, a thin strand of saliva briefly connecting her bottom lip to his tip before falling apart. “Still hanging in there, big boy? Good. I’m just getting started.”

Her promise left him bereaved of breath as she spat on his throbbing girth, using her fist to stroke him before gulping him down once more. He could tell her hunger was growing stronger, more insatiable. She seemed devilishly intent on having him teeter on the edge by the time she was done, swallowing him until he felt the walls of her throat constricting around his length. Lacking any measure to dictate the pleasure she was giving him, he at least decided to start thrusting his hips to assert a degree of control, eliciting a chuckle from her as her lips slid along his wet skin.

He wasn’t sure how much time he’d spent on the brink of orgasm until she came up for breath, using the back of her hand to wipe the mixture of her saliva and his juices from her chin. Her intent, however, became plain enough once she retreated to yank her trousers down her legs. “Right, then,” she growled. “Let’s not waste any more time. I’m eager to take a ride on that cock.”

MC wished for nothing else. He clumsily worked his pullover over his head, leaving him practically bare while he watched Imelda and idly stroked his hardness, priming it for her entry. Clad in nothing but her jumper and knee-high socks, he was utterly captivated by the sight of her toned legs, which she gracefully draped alongside his thighs as she climbed into his lap.

“You’ve been very quiet so far,” she observed as she seized his shoulders, thumbs slowly running over his skin.

“Just enjoying the show,” he uttered, which was not even a lie; he was just mildly worried he would be setting himself up for embarrassment the moment he allowed himself to indulge in any more pleasure than she was already giving him.

“Hmmm, good,” she hummed, her words cut short by a gasp as her heat met with his, her folds causing a delightful friction against his thickness. “Fuck, if only you knew how long I’ve been wanting this –”

The pride he felt at her reciprocation of his feelings lasted only mere seconds as she lifted herself on her knees, lining him up with her entrance. A moan fell from her lips as she sank down on him, nothing of what he had experienced so far quite comparing to the sensation of her walls swallowing him in.

“Shit, that’s too fucking good –” she gasped, using his shoulders as support as she began rolling her hips, settling into a nice pace that left MC gritting his teeth. He couldn’t agree more; she was way too bloody divine, the way her ass bounced into his lap as she cursed through parted lips, not merely engaging in some physical act but using him for her own pleasure. He was aching to touch her, to show her just how much he craved the feeling of her muscles under his fingertips, but he was determined not to lose – not this time.

Her smile was mischievous, cunning. “Still not giving in? Perhaps I need to give you more of a challenge.”

Away her jumper went, and just like that she was baring herself to him, perky breasts bouncing just a few inches away from his face, practically begging to be worshipped. He grunted in frustration. “Fuck, Mel, what are you doing to me…”

She chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him closer as she rode him faster. “Tell me, big boy, tell me what I’m doing to you, tell me how much you want me…”

“I’ve wanted you for so fucking long… I love how you push me, I love how you make everything a challenge, I love how you look at me like I’m a prize, ready to be fucked senseless when you’ve won me…”

Judging by the sounds she was making, he knew he was doing something right. A smile formed on his lips as he realised he had found one of her pressure points at last.

“You’re so fucking hot like that… I realised your little game right from the beginning… edging me on, getting me all hot and sweaty, just so you could have me… and here you are, riding my cock like a needy little slut…”

“Shit,” Imelda cursed, flushing crimson as she increased her pace even more, the feeling of her heat tightening around his length alerting him to her impending release, “keep going, you fucker, I’m almost there –”

MC smirked, lowering his voice to a husky whisper: “The truth is that I wanted you too, Mel. I knew I had to have you the moment I saw you riding that broom. I couldn’t think of anything but you on your knees, sliding your pretty lips on my prick…”

She let out a loud whine as she finally collapsed on top of him, forcing him to strain his hips as he felt her spilling all over his cock, her release dripping from her folds. He kissed her cheek as he gently kept fucking her through her orgasm, not quite wanting any of this to stop. In fact, knowing that he’d just singlehandedly carried her to her climax with just words alone finally pushed him over the edge. He was going to claim what he was owed.

Snaking his hands around to her ass, he lifted her and carried her over to the desk, drawing a surprised gasp from her. “Hey, what do you think you’re –”

But any protest was knocked off her lips as he laid her down on the wooden surface and pushed back into her tightness, his pelvis meeting her butt in a wet slap. Any rules that might have applied were thrown out the window as he began to properly fuck her at last, holding her hips as he practically smashed her onto his cock. He had a front-row seat to Imelda’s complete unravelling as she unleashed the full range of her vocabulary on him, moaning and whining until she was only babbling nonsense, relishing the utter depravity of their fucking.

MC could watch her tits bounce and her cunt greedily clenching down on him for hours, but Imelda’s release had done a good number on his stamina, and he could feel his own orgasm quickly approaching. Wanting to at least drive her into one more high before he finished, he brought one hand down to where his cock was buried in her folds and began strumming the little bundle of nerves, delighted as he sensed just how close she was. The sight of her body shaking and contorting as she crashed into her climax crumbled the last of his defences and he came with a loud moan, quickly pulling out and stroking himself until every last drop of his spend lay gleaming on her stomach.

He took a step back as Imelda propped herself up on her elbows, looking up at him with a smirk. “Well, that got me good.”

“I’ll say.” MC offered her his hand and helped her up from the desk. “So… I think we can safely say who won this round, right?”

“Right. I told you you couldn’t handle it.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who came twice!”

“But that wasn’t the rule, was it?” She chuckled as she bent down to pick up her clothing. “Just admit that I’m clearly better than you.”

MC rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine. You’re intolerable.”

“Now now, don’t be a sore loser, pretty boy.” She caught his lips with her own as she walked towards the shower, the light catching her delightfully fit – and bare – figure. “I’m sure you’ll do great at the rematch.”

Merlin, he couldn’t wait.

#hogwarts legacy #imelda reyes #imelda reyes x mc #imelda reyes x m!mc #imelda reyes smut

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thebigrewatch · 1 year ago

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TASKMASTER : SERIES 1 : EPISODE 3 : The Poet and The Egg

Hello all, same day, just had lunch and more choccy buttons so I'm ready to crack on with another episode. And that was a good pun from me because this episode is called The Poet and The Egg!

I can't really remember this episode at all so it'll be good to look back on it. I've got a meeting in an hour so let's get to it.

I don't understand why Greg stands up to introduce everyone, it's a bit odd.

Prize Task: Most Meaningful Item

Tim Key has brought in a piston. He explains it to say he won the Edinburgh Comedy Award and he kept this piston which was part of his show when he won it. We also get a good bit of chat here about Greg booping Romesh on the nose which continues throughout the episode as I recall.

Romesh has brought in his wedding ring. So it's high stakes! Something's telling me he's not getting that back.

Roisin has brought in a dictionary. This is the first instance of someone bringing something like this in.

Josh brings in a lovely item which is a self-published book from his father, a string of angry letters he wrote in the past. He describes it as a 'slice of life'.

Frank brings in his child's hobby horse which is very sweet. Roisin comes in last place, then Josh, Tim, Frank and Romesh. I think that's a fair assessment! Task 1: Throw a teabag into a mug from the furthest distance. Frank already confident, saying he played cricket in this youth. He points out straight away you need wet tea bags. Roisin only brings one bag out then realises it needs to be wet. Romesh on the other hands spends a long time with dry teabags. Frank gets a box out to try and make a sort of funnel for the teabag to go into which is a great system. This leads to a great discussion about whether a box was available for Romesh or not. In another task further down the line they see a box in the background while they're showing Josh's efforts and they say 'box!' so funny.

Josh goes down a strange route of using a wheelbarrow as a mug for tea. He drinks out of it, it looks pretty disgusting!

Tim has the same idea as Frank I guess but makes it far too complicated by involving one of those things people use to throw tennis balls for dogs, and putting the teabag inside a tennis ball. I don't think it's quite in the spirit of things but it does the job.

Task 2: Oh I like this task - they have to draw a picture by walking, kind of like a human etch a sketch. The weather for everyone is nice...except Tim who is doing it in absolute horrendous torrential rain. Josh does a lovely little flower. Roisin wants to draw a sausage for Greg! But it sort of ends up looking like a golf bag.

One thing I will say is I love the music over Tim's one. He tries to draw a key but then crosses it out and ends up with sort of nothing. Tim describes it as the worst hour of his life.

Romesh does a great one of his own head which looks amazing!

Frank does a hobby horse but it doesn't look very good.

Task 3: Buy the best present for the Taskmaster, here is £20, you have 10 weeks.

This is another great moment. I mean the others aren't even worth talking about really but I'll go through them and get to Josh.

Tim - book tokens

Frank - see behind me glasses, these are quite cool actually, he puts them on and can see behind himself

Romesh has a brilliant picture made...I'll let it speak for itself! He says it's to show Greg is 'all terrain'

Josh goes next but I think it's too good to leave here so I'll skip to Roisin's and come back to Josh.

Roisin gets Greg a mouse!

Josh gets Greg a tattoo with his name on his foot! The reaction from Greg and the audience is priceless.

I don't really know why they left Roisin until last because it comes in a bit flat after this excitement but there we are. There is a fun bit though where Roisin says the mouse is called Greg and Josh quips back 'I've got a tattoo of his name!' Of course Josh had to win this one.

Task 3: Using only the items currently on this table, get this egg as high as possible. The egg must not break.

Tim says the phrase 'another day another egg' which I enjoyed. The thing about eggs is they are designed not to break on grass so that's a good call.

Romesh does a lot of titting about with the paper and measuring tape before piling it all up and putting the egg on top.

Roisin throws it up and tries to catch it but it of course goes badly wrong and falls to the floor and cracks.

Tim tries to make a sort of olympic torch out of the paper but it falls off and smashes on the floor.

Josh and Frank have a similar idea of wrapping the egg in paper and throwing it. Josh tries to cover the floor with scrunched paper to cushion the fall but it doesn't quite land in it, however it doesn't break because they are naturally robust against falling on grass.

Frank's egg comes down and nearly knocks him out! Sadly it does break :( So Josh is first and Romesh is second.

Live task: Stand up after 100 seconds. This is your typical not great live task, just waiting for 100 seconds to arrive is a bit dull. One thing I did enjoy was, after all the box chat with Romesh, Alex gives him a box while he's sitting there waiting for the 100 seconds.

Roisin goes, then Josh, then Tim and Romesh at the same time and then Frank goes. Closest to 100 seconds was Josh at 105 seconds. Well that's it then, and it's a tie break situation!

Josh and Romesh have to give Frank Skinner's age in minutes which ends up being about 30 million and something or other (numbers aren't my friend). Josh ends up being the closest to this so he wins and Romesh loses his wedding ring!

#taskmaster #taskmaster series 1 #frank skinner #tim key #romesh ranganathan #roisin conaty #josh widdicombe

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creations-by-chaosfay · 6 months ago

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I have a stack of placemats to finish binding, and thankfully it's just the handsewing part. Those will be in the shop this weekend, along with the matching coasters. Tomorrow I'll start and finish the mug rug commission, start (and possibly finish) the crow mini quilt top, and attend my first quilter guild meeting. That last one has me especially excited!!!

Next week, I'll start and finish a four piece coaster set, and finally start handquilting Star Story. That quilt will be basted this weekend. After basting, I'm completely wiped out. It's why I prefer doing that on Mondays. Three days off beforehand means more energy left afterwards. I need to clear and wash the floor, iron the backing and tape it down, add the batting, crawl over it to smooth put the wrinkles, and trim that down so I can see where the backing is. Then I need to iron the quilt top and lay it over the batting, crawl all over it to smooth the wrinkles, then pin the three layers together. That last bit takes the longest. Once I have it all pinned, I trim everything again, so I have a four to five inch overhang, meaning the top is centered with four to five inches of batting and backing visible on all four edges. After the trimming, I remove the tape, fold up and store the excess material, and draw out the design for the handquilting in the area I'll have the center area (moon and stars). The quilt is then carried to my cutting table and placed a quilting frame, and I can finally start handquilting.

All that takes about six hours. Keep in mind, I'm unable to weight on my left wrist. This results in much awkwardness and the reason why, when basting, my husband doesn't come into or through the dining room. I'm extremely sore the next day, but still able to work if I take frequent breaks for stretching.

I'm guess-stimating about 60 hours of handquilting. Using the crescent moon and start templates will speed things up significantly. Husband made a suggestion I find intriguing: use the same quilting frame (a ring) I used for Halloween Dream, and have a little less overlap between the rings, then place the stars at random intervals. I gotta say, I do like the idea.

Aside from handquilting, I also have the giveaway prize and a housewarming gift to work on. That's 10 pieces total: two table runners, two coasters, six placemats. That will take one week for the smaller set, possibly two for the larger.

Mornings will consist of sewing, afternoons handquilting, and no more than four hours each. 6-10AM sewing, noon-4PM handquilting. The two hour gap is a break. Plus, four day work week.

I think that's the entire list? Summer will be filled with handquilting and stocking the shop with mostly low budget inventory. I hope to add at least six listings, and one of them a lap quilt top. Personal items I intend to make: devotional piece for the space behind the altar in my sewing room, Steelers quilt for Bubby, bookcase quilt to serve as the headboard our bedroom.

Commissions close June 1st and will reopen in September with a price increase and the addition of a king size quilt on the list. I 100% do not expect anyone to commission for something that expensive.

Ultimately, my plan is to reach my ko-fi goal. Sales and commissions will make necessary to do so. I turn 41 in June, and we'll ne celebrating out 18th wedding anniversary as well. If I reach my goal by the end of June, that will be an outstanding gift. It will also mean two giveaway prize winners, and each will receive a twin size quilt (unless they want something smaller).

Now I must sleep. Things are gonna be busy tomorrow.

#words from the artist

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104thsquadfam · 1 year ago

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ssatxr:

Midnight couldn’t believe that she was even still alive at this point, considering that Reiner had decided to move hands to bolt away– She was above Bertholdt a little bit, frantically pulling on the hooks of her ODM gear to gently latch into the sinuses of skin. From there, She marveled at how Reiner didn’t even attempt to throw her to the other titans, and protected them all from the beasts still– it could just be the prerogative to protect Eren, but she was just as much of a threat.

She looked down to Bertholdt, trying her best to drown out the loud roars of Ymir and Reiner, Looking below to see all the Titans slaughtering the scouts, and soon getting trampled over themselves.

Her gaze turned back up to Bertholdt, the crystal glowing faintly as she pondered his fate. He can’t die yet, Ares told her. He must live.

…She can’t believe she was doing this.

Midnight let the ODM’s wires slowly fall, lowering her more to Bert’s level. “You know, you’re still that nervous wreck you always were! You can’t die yet, But you can’t take Eren with you! I hate you, with every bone in my body–But i can’t let the both of you die!” Midnight was quick to take a blade and jut it outwards, letting the locking mechanism free to pierce one of the titans below. A nasty growl came from her, akin to a wolf’s sneer. Then, a thought hatched into her head.

“Where’s Annie?”

Reiners eyes glanced down towards Midnight, Bertholdt and Eren assuring that they were safe before shoving more of the titans away. Bertholdt gasps as he quickly turned to face Midnight as she spoke, drawing his blades to attempt to defend himself if he needed to....was she just going to verbally assault him cause she couldn’t kill him?

“ Midnight-” Bertholdt stopped as he caught sight of Mikasa rushing towards him with her blades, shit Reiner wouldn’t be able to protect him from her and the titans. But before her blades could make contact with his body the taller boy managed to dodge out of the way allowing the titan below to grab a hold of Mikasa squeezing her body enough to crack some of her ribs, luckily for her Jean managed to stab the titan in the eyes before it could make a meal of her. Two scouts then attempted to get close to Bertholdt but their wires were quickly ripped off by Reiner sending the two to their deaths below.

The Armored titans large hand slowly moved up towards Bertholdt to keep him shielded but didn’t cover him, Bertholdts eyes shifting nervously towards Midnight, titans and the Scouts fighting around them “ We’ve come this far already, we’re taking Eren home with us. We’re going back to our hometown..” Bertholdt muttered determined. Armin who had been carefully navigating around the titans below managed to latch his wire to the Armored head, his eyes quickly glanced around spotting Midnight alive and well, he let out a relieved sigh before looking to Bertholdt wondering what he could say to the other.

It was then that an idea popped into the blondes head, an almost eerie smile forming on his face before he spoke “...So you’re okay with this? Leaving your friend behind? I guess Annie was weighing you down, do you know where she is?” Armin asked, Berhtoldt and Reiner had fallen silent as Armin continued talking “ Way up north in the utopia district being tortured....the silent treatment only goes so far, the body may heal but her screams are an object lesson on the limits of endurance...oh don’t worry they’re taking special care she doesn’t die, or get a moments rest...so many methods so little time, mustn’t waste a prize specimen like Annie. She’s to precious-”

“ Shut your mouth hell spawn! I’ll kill you! ” Bertholdt shouted before Armin could go on any further, but before Bertholdt could even move to attack the blonde, Erwin had managed to get close enough to slice at Bertholdts chest, slicing the straps that were holding Eren to his back and freeing him before falling back down towards his horse that awaited him below. Mikasa wasted no time grabbing Eren and calling back, while Reiner managed to save Berhtoldt from falling to his death by grabbing the wire connected to his gear. Below Erwin gave the command to retreat now that they had Eren.

ssatxr:

“Yes, Him! Too bad you can’t even be a man enough to look– when I came back from here, I was injured horribly, and now you get to see the nastiest side of it! You may be titan shifters, but you’ll never understand how it feels to be a hostage day in and day out! You don’t know what it’s like to be stalked by your own GODS!” Midnight was easily cut off from her rant, her crystal burning brightly. She seethed, the blue light managing to seem a little into the finger’s cracks. She managed to clutch her chest, quelling the light, but the pain was still there. Before she could even leap off, she felt a bash before a flurry of wind blew in her direction.

Luckily, she was quick enough to claw onto the seemingly bone like materiel the Armored titan had, her nails scrapping the tissue as she held on tightly. She wasn’t going to let them escape easily! She hanged onto that wrist for dear life, and it paid off! She slowly crawled towards the center of the two hands, being positioned right under the chin…She let out a sigh– a very panicked, yet annoyed sigh. Titans surrounded her everywhere, and safe to say she was already having a hitlist of her own for the men she was surrounded by.

“Don’t think…I’m gonna let myself just leave this chance…!” To the titans that hand gotten close to her, she slashed at them with her sword, letting out an inhuman cry–akin to a bark. The frantic swinging did seem to do the trick, and despite her anger…she hoped Reiner had a plan.

“ Guys! Midnight is still on Reiner!” Armin would shout alerting the others who cursed under their breath “ Shit....there are to many titans surrounding them we won’t be able to get close enough to help her...ugh, I hope she can hold out for awhile...” Jean cursed biting down on his lower lip as they were forced to focus on taking care of any titans that went for them. While Reiner was struggling to stand and get the titans off of him, in his frustration he’d let out a roar as he attempted to shake the titans off.

Ymir, who was still on his back, did what she could to clear the titans off of Reiner, mindful not to accidentally claw or bite Midnight who was still on the Armored titan. Erwin wasted no time using this moment to charge forward, ordering all his scouts to charge ahead and retrieve Eren from the traitors, once they’d succeeded in retrieving Eren then they could retreat. But as Erwin lead the charge to retrieve Eren a large titan managed to bite down on Erwins arm carrying him away to what the Scouts believed to be his death, however this didn’t seem to concern Erwin as his only orders for his men were to continue forward.

I can’t move...and unless I tear these titans off me it’ll only get worse. In that case...brace yourself Berthold!

Reiner thought to himself as he slowly lowered his hands from around his neck to shove the titans off of him but also being mindful to keep Bertholdt safe, if a titan got him, well not only would he lose a friend but Marley would lose the Colossal titan. And despite Midnight being mad at him Reiner still managed to punch a titan that attempted to turn her into a meal. Below them the Scouts were attempting their suicide rescue mission, many were dying but still they pushed on.

#ssatxr

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tmntxthings · 2 years ago

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Alright, I don't know if you're still taking requests but I had this fun little idea and I just had to leave it here.

A platonic Turtle bois + April(& Casey Jr if possible, don't feel obligated to if you don't feel like writing him tho) x Reader where the gang asks the Reader who's their favorite one(as in favorite best friend), and Reader just insists they don't do favorites until one day Reader forgets their sketchbook there and when the gang takes a little peak at it they just find pages upon pages filled to the brim with full on Mikey drawings(colored, shaded and all), doodles, sketches, even handmade stickers and all along with other stickers that resemble Mikey(like Pizza stickers, tangerines since it's the same as his color, radio boxes, skates all that jazz)

This is totally not because Mikey is my favorite character in the entire series and I think he's pretty underrated compared to his other brothers-

Anon🌠

The Favorite

author’s note: INSTANT YES, I love it, I completely agree, here you are my 🌠 anon

warnings: capital F for Fluff c; unedited

—————————————————————————

“We all know who it is,” Leo said smugly. Kicking his feet up on the coffe table. “Know who? What now?” You said looking up from your phone. You hadn’t realized it but everyone was looking at you. The turtles, April, and Casey. “Okay I’m definitely missing something..” you said feeling nervous from all their stares. “Oh ya know just that I’m your favorite friend!” Leo continued to say, a wide smirk on his face.

“Leo, don’t kid yourself, I’m their favorite,” Raph said throwing a pillow at the blue clad turtle, it smacked him squarely in the face since he had those smug eyes closed. “Oomph!” He sputtered. “Scoff! You two?? The favorite??? My calculations would state otherwise,” Donnie pipped up. “And let me guess your calculations say you?” Casey asked crossing his arms with a slight smile. “Exactly future boy, exactly,” Donnie replied.

“Well I’d definitely want to be the favorite,” Mikey said excitedly, turning in his bean bag to give you the biggest puppy dog eyes. “Sorry boys, I mean the answer is obviously April O’Neil~~~” April sang confidently. Soon everyone was claiming to be the favorite, trying to talk over one another until you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts.

“Guys!” You said and immediately they hushed, looking expectantly at you, each ready to be proven right. “I don’t have a favorite!” You exasperated, shaking your head at all of them sincerely. “Yes, let them down easy Y/n, the truth can stay between us,” Leo said quickly, because he had totally expected you to say his name. “Leo I’m serious! How could I possibly choose between my best friends??”

“Easy, by saying April O’Neilllllll~~~” she sang again and everyone started arguing again! Casey shot you a glance, shaking his head as if to say ‘oh well what’re you gonna do?’ He had to deal with this same situation not too long ago. He had tried to say the same thing, that he loved everyone equally but c’mon, Leo is totally his favorite. Casey told him so privately just so Leo didn’t break down.

Thankfully they dropped it after you kept your answer steady. No favorites! You were happy to be friends with them alllll. A week went by and you were back at the lair, thinking that the whole discussion was finally over with. When suddenly you got an important call, “Oh my god, I think this is them!! This is it!! I either get the job or get let down!!” Everyone wished you good luck as you stepped out of the living area into the sewers for some privacy.

You had been doodling in your sketchbook, leaving it closed and unattended. Leo’s eyes turned mischievous after a moment of silence. “The time has come!” He announced and everyone was looking his way like ‘oh lord what’s he about to do.’ “Y/n’s prized art book will surely tell us who the favorite is!” Mikey was just as curious as Leo but he knew how private a sketchbook was. “I don’t know Lee..” he started to say reluctantly.

“How about this Mikey just a quick peek!” Raph said as Leo snatched the book, everyone leaning closer from their seats. The first few pages was of the entire group, all laughing or making silly faces which made everyone smile and “awe.” But as Leo kept flipping through pages, the main color of choice became orange. Sketches of Mikey and his stickers, skateboard, the boombox radio he carried around. Mikey’s face flushed a dark green, more than flattered that you had chosen to draw him. “Well well well, Angelo would’ve been my second guess,” Donnie said informatively. It didn’t come as a surprise to the purple turtle because Mikey was his favorite brother.

Leo kept flipping until the pages turned blank. “So Mikey, how’s it feel to be the favorite?” He sniffed, a little jealous but happy for his brother. Especially when he saw how happy Mikey was. “Hurry and put it back Leo!” He said not wanting to get caught rifling through your things. “Guyyyys!” You shouted from the sewers and no sooner you were back into the common area. “I got the job!!” You said smiling a big cheesy smile. Congratulations and cheers were in order and April gave you a big hug, knowing how hard it was to get not just a job but a good job!

Mikey was still reeling from the secret knowledge of him being your favorite. So when the whole gang piled into the hug, he gave you an extra squeeze a slight blush still on his face. “You draw really well by the way,” Leo said in the middle of the hug. A moment of silence for those words to settle and you gasped, “you didn’t!!!” you said in an accusatory tone. He smiled sheepishly, “hey wasn’t just me!” and you turned to the whole group, “so we’re going through everyone’s things now?!”

“It was Leo’s idea,” Donnie made sure to say. “And none of you stopped him?!” Mikey’s fingers came together tapping, “well I tried, but I’m happy I got to see your sketchbook, you do draw really well..” Mikey gave you the brightest smile and it was your turn to blush. Realizing he had seen all of the drawings you did of him, of his things. “I can’t believe you guys!!” You sputtered trying to maintain an angry expression but at this point you were just flattered at getting compliments from Mikey. He inspired you greatly and you thought his artwork was the best out there. “Well, the favorite can make it up to you somehow,” Leo teased and you groaned.

Yeah… Mikey was your favorite.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years ago

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Aaahhh can I pls request a family imagine where Cheka draws on his arm with markers so that he and Leon have matching lion tattoos?? (=^w^=)

Tagging @jessamine-rose, as this was originally their request, made off-anon.

Tumblr mobile was being dumb and didn't save the completed version of this before posting. This just happens sometimes when I have stuff in my queue 😭 I had to take the initial post down, rewrite the other half of the imagine that didn't save, and then repost it (which is what you're looking at now).

Imagine this...

“... tan! Ojitan!”

Leona groaned, tumbling onto his back and pressing a pillow over his ears. No dice--his nephew’s persistent voice still cut through. A familiar, high-pitched and cheery whine that made Leona’s head throb unbearably.

“What is it?” he snapped, glaring at Cheka from beneath his pillow arch. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep here?”

“You’re still sleeping? It’s so early in the day, there’s so much time left to do stuff.”

"That's precious napping time for me."

"You're so weird, Ojitan."

Leona let out a sardonic rumble of laughter. "You have no idea."

The cub grinned, putting a hand on his uncle’s shoulder and gently shaking him. “C’mon rise and shine! I have something cool to show you!”

Ugh.

Leona rolled his eyes, but relented with a sigh. (From past experience, he knew that if he didn’t, he would soon find Cheka sitting on his on his stomach.) “Make it quick, then.”

“Hehe, okay! Guess what I have?”

Leona’s gaze was immediately drawn to Cheka’s right hand, which had remained behind his back the entire time. Clutching onto a drawing pad, no doubt, judging from the markers and torn papers scattered all over the floor of the room. The efforts of childhood whimsy and wonder.

Instead of smiling, Leona frowned. “I thought I told you to make it quick. And I despise guessing games.”

“That’s no fun, though!” Cheka leaned forward on his tip-toes. “Guess, guess! Only one time is good.”

“... A monkey’s uncle.”

The cub’s free hand flew to his mouth, attempting to shove his giggles back in, but to no avail. “That’s silly!! You’re not a monkey’s uncle, you’re my uncle--and I’m not a monkey, I’m a lion!”

“I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me just now,” he replied sarcastically. “Thanks so much for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome! Hehe, I’m surprised I know more than you do.” Cheka flashed a grin, ever the oblivious child. “Okay, thanks for waiting! It’s time for my big reveal!”

“Oh, goodie.”

Cheka revealed his right hand, which was balled into a tiny fist. His fingers unfurled, revealing... nothing in his palm. Leona stared down at the emptiness, his expression blank, touched with a little dubiousness.

“... Are you surprised?” Cheka looked hopeful.

Leona threw his head back and laughed. “Is this some sort of a joke, furball? If it is, it’s not a very good one.”

“That’s only half of the surprise! The other half is... this!”

Cheka reached for his left sleeve and yanked the fabric up, revealing a flash of ink upon his caramel-colored skin. Black as burnt sugar, pointed teeth and a mess of a mane sprawling out... not unlike the dark swirls that danced upon Leona’s own left bicep.

“Ta-daaah!!”

His eyes bulged. “That’s...”

... A really crappy imitation of my tattoo.

“Cheka. When the hell did you find the time to do this?” Leona demanded, thrusting a finger at the marker-made mess on the boy’s arm.

“You were napping up until a little while ago, so I sat around and looked at your arm to copy it on mine!”

“You were watching me sleep?!”

“I needed a model! I can’t remember what the tattoo looks like from memory....” Cheka’s ears flattened, worry marring his innocent face. “Um, Ojitan... Could it be that you’re angry with me?”

“... I don't care. Better you than Rook,” Leona grumbled, sinking back into his bed. “You’d better wash that off before you head home. The servants will be beside themselves seeing their impressionable little prince like this.”

Leona grimaced at the thought over their beady eyes bearing into him again. As though he was not already regarded with enough scorn. To them, he was less like a man and more like a wild beast. Simultaneously feared and hated.

“Nuh-uh! I’m never gonna wash it off, cuz I wanna keep matching with you!” Cheka declared stubbornly. He flexed his left arm, causing his shoddily done lion’s mane to flicker. “I’m gonna be just like you one day! I’ll be smart, and strong, and cool... Oh! And I’ll even be a Magical Shift star, too!!”

“Don’t make me laugh. There are tons of role models for you out there. Better people to look up to and idolize, like your old man. After all, you are his flesh and blood... and the prized prince of the savanna.”

“What if I want to be like Papa and Ojitan?”

“You’re chasing an impossible dream.” The words came out more strongly than he had intended them to, each syllable dropping like a cement brick. “If you were smart, you’d know when to quit.”

You’d accept second place and be done with it already.

“... You don’t want to follow in my footsteps.” Leona waved a hand, his tone bitter. The once vibrant viridian of his irises had dullened, twisting into something darker.

“Your future’s brighter than mine. It’s so bright, it hurts my eyes to look at it,” he spat, his spirit shining with spite. “That’s what’s waiting for you, so you’d better take it before someone else comes along to try and steal it from you... someone like me.”

Cheka went quiet, staring at his uncle with a startled expression. The look of an antelope ensnared in a predator’s trap. Hurt and fear, all culminated into one. “Ojitan...”

He’s the same as them. I should have known.

“Do you get it now? I’m not someone worth some wide-eyed kid’s admiration,” he snarled, turning away from Cheka--afraid to meet that sparkling gaze, full of endless possibilities. “If you understand that much, then leave, and--OOF!!”

A small body tackled into his from behind, cutting Leona off. His assailant planted their face against his broad back, and their scrawny arms wrapped around his waist to give a squeeze.

“Leona Ojitan... I didn’t understand everything you said just then, but... I think I kind of understand. You’re... hurting right now, aren’t you? It hurts so much that you don’t know what to do.”

“Me... hurting?” Leona scoffed, even has he balled his hands into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms, leaving marks. “Ridiculous. You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t think it’s imaginary.”

“... What do you know? You’re just a kid.”

“I know lots of things!” Cheka tightened his grip on his uncle, his muscles straining under his skin, the lion of his makeshift tattoo stretching thin. “Like when you hurt like this, a hug’ll make it all feel better! Papa and Mama told me! So... Until it stops hurting, I’ll keep hugging you like this!”

“You’ll what?!” Leona paled, starting to buck and flail against his nephew. He attempted to pry him off, only to have the cub immediately cinch back onto him moments later. “O-Oi, Cheka...!! Let go, I don’t want--no, I don’t need any hugs, damn it!!”

“Hehe! Nope, I can’t do that! Our arm marks match, Ojitan! So I want our smiles to match, too!” The cub squealed, rubbing his cheek against his exasperated uncle’s. “You can’t run away from me!”

“This is why I told you to wash off that stupid marker...!!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #Cheka Kingscholar #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #imagine this #kinda angsty

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on.

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side. You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you. He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding.

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness.

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight, you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere #afterwitch writes

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mikotos-8daydreams · 3 years ago

Note

Hey do you have dangerous desires kicho's story video somewhere? I wanted to read so much but I couldn't win at the event and I didn't find it 💔 I only saw your prints 🥲 (thanks i love u tumblr btw 😍)

Hey Anon!

I totally get you. These events are meant to squeeze all the money they can out of you so it's hard to win all the prizes. I don't have the video, but honestly the story is so short that I can just type it for you. Hope you don't mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight glittered on the surface of the sea that stretched out before my eyes one afternoon.

My fellow seamstresses and I had journeyed to the Port of Sakai in search of unique fabrics.

(I've been wondering about something since we got here...)

All over the port, I could see couples holding hands and smiling as they strolled along.

(Had this place become a popular spot for dates?)

(Even so, they're all way too lovey-dovey! Kissing in public and everything!)

It seemed that everywhere I looked there was another couple smooching.

My cheeks were burning as I awkwardly stared down at my shoes and one of the seamstresses noticed.

Seamstress

"Looks like word the magic charm has really spread."

"They say if your gentleman gives you a kiss in this port, you'll live happily ever after."

"Oh, is that right?"

(I guess this place is supposed to give good luck in love.)

All the women who'd been kissed did indeed look happy.

(A kiss will bring you happiness, huh?)

(But I can't imagine that a kiss from just anyone would do.)

(The person you like needs to wish for your happiness as they kiss you. I think that's the only way it would work.)

I was glad to have figured out what was going on, when my thoughts were interrupted.

Merchant 1

"How dare you suggest something so preposterous!"

Merchant 2

"You're the preposterous one!"

(Hm?)

My attention was drawn to two men who were having a loud argument.

"Excuse me, but what's going on here?"

I couldn't help but try to intervene.

Merchant 1

"It has nothing to do with you, Miss."

They glared at me for butting in, but the argument had been so heated I couldn't ignore it.

"But maybe it you explain things to me, I could help."

Merchant 2

"What is there to explain?"

"If you both give your side of things in a calm manner, then we might be able to find a solution."

Merchants

"..."

The men calmed down enough to talk things through with me and we were able to settle their disagreement.

(I'm glad they were able to understand each other in the end.)

Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief-

Kicho

"MC."

"Hm? What are you doing here?"

(I wasn't expecting to run into Kicho here!)

Despite my surprise, I managed to resist the urge to shout his name in front of the other seamstresses.

Kicho

"One of the men involved that quarrel just now works for me."

"Oh, I didn't know that."

Kicho

"Drawing attention to my group would not have been good for me."

"I want to reward you for stopping that before it turned into a big scene. So ask me for anything you desire."

(Um, I guess he means he wants to thank me for my help.)

"I didn't even know that man worked for you when I stepped in, so you don't owe me anything."

Kicho

"I refuse to remain in your debt. Come with me."

Kicho left no room for arguing.

(He isn't showing me any signs of hostility or ulterior motives. I think he's actually just being conscientious.)

(I don't think he's going to give up even if I turn his offer down again. And I don't want this to turn into another argument.)

"Okay."

I told the other seamstresses that I would meet back up with them later at the inn where we were staying.

And then I followed after Kicho.

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

Kicho brought me to the nearby office of his trading firm and we sat down on the sofa together.

(For some reason, I feel nervous sitting beside him like this.)

(Kicho is technically an enemy of the Oda forces. Maybe following him here wasn't such a good idea after all.)

His appraising gaze was doing nothing to ease the tension I felt, so I just sat there stiffly.

Kicho

"You can drop your guard. I only want to repay you for your help."

"I will get you anything you want. Tell me what you desire."

Kicho spoke in a dispassionate tone.

"What I desire?"

(What would that be?)

(I don't know how I feel about taking advantage of Kicho's generosity.)

I never imagined I'd be in a situation to request something of him, so I couldn't think of anything right away/

Kicho

"If you can't think of anything you want, you can ask me to do something for you."

(Something I'd like Kicho to do for me?)

When I glanced up, Kicho was sitting much closer to me than I'd realized and my heart nearly leapt from my chest.

(He's so close we're practically touching.)

The memory of all those kissing couples at the port suddenly came to mind and my eyes drifted to Kicho's lips.

(Wait, why am I thinking about that at a time like this?)

My cheeks flushing, I cast my eyes downward. But Kicho lifter my chin back up with his finger.

Kicho

"Just be honest. Tell me what you want and i will give it."

As his face drew closer, my cheeks burned even hotter.

"Kicho, what are you-- Hm?!"

No sooner had I squeezed my eyes shut, than I felt a soft pressure on my brow.

(Did he really just kiss my forehead?!)

"I-I never said I wanted a kiss."

My mind reeling, I try to deny it.

Kicho

"It looked to me like that was what you wanted."

An amused smile touched Kicho's lips, making me feel even more embarrassed.

Kicho

"I've heard talk a strange magic charm that's been popular lately."

"Oh?"

"If a kiss can bring everlasting happiness, it is a small price to pay."

'You don't believe that the charm works, do you?"

Kicho

"No, I don't believe in such things. But I won't fault others for believing in it.

"If a single kiss can make someone feel happy and gives them a reason to enjoy life, I don't see the harm."

(Hm, I didn't expect him to feel that way.)

"Even the people who do believe in the magic charm..."

"I don't think they believe a kiss from any old person will bring them happiness."

I told Kicho exactly what I thought.

It has to be a kiss from someone they like. That's what makes them feel happy."

"It can't be just anybody, so..."

(Huh? What's the point I was trying to make again?)

My racing heart left me feeling confused and tongue-tied.

Kicho

"I don't care if my kiss brings you happiness or not."

"I have paid my debt. You are free to go."

Our business concluded, Kicho stood up and went over his desk.

"Uh...Goodbye then!"

I suddenly felt so awkward, I couldn't bear being there another minute. So, I ran from the room and didn't look back.

.........

Once I was out of the building, I took a deep breathe to calm my nerves.

(I was not expecting to be kissed out of the blue like that!)

(But what's this?)

A realization hit me.

(I'd used the English word 'kiss,' which was not common parlance in this time period, but Kicho understood me.)

(Well, I guess he comes into contact with a lot of foreigners who speak English since he works as a trader.)

(Anyway, more importantly...)

Try as I might to calm down, my pulse would not slow and the spot Kicho had kissed on my forehead felt incredibly hot.

...

Kicho

"It looked to me like that was what you wanted."

.....

(I was only remembering the charm I heard about, I wasn't going to demand a kiss from him.)

I couldn't shake the send of bewilderment that filled me.

And the fact that he was probably just teasing me anyway also made me feel annoyed.

(But then why is my heart still racing excitedly like this?)

I doubted I'd be making any sense of the jumbled mess that was my emotions anytime soon.

Trying to get my head back on straight, I walked quickly toward the inn where I was staying with the other seamstresses.

End

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#ikemen sengoku #ask box #ikemen sengoku kicho #ikesen kichou #ikemen sengoku collection stories

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morgana-ren · 3 years ago

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This is so inappropriate, but in your expert opinion, how would Shiggy react to his crush stealing his favorite game controller so she'd have an excuse to see him again?

Oh! How degenerate an ask! I suppose I can indulge you, but I’ll have you know this is quite filthy.

Firstly, I’d like you to know that it takes him about 30 minutes after you leave for him to even realize it’s gone. Why? Because he has to furiously masturbate.

What do you want? He’s a horny young man who just had his crush in his room- on his bed no less- spending time with him totally alone. No buffer friends, no awkward grouping; just you and him in a dark, confined space together.

It was difficult enough to hide his awkward hard on the entire time, and if he inhales his messy bundle of sheets hard enough, he can still smell your lingering presence, so he’s gotta take care of some business first.

After he’s ‘taken care of business’ (aka orgasmed mind bogglingly hard panting your name into his pillow until his hand is caked in viscous white cum that rightfully should be inside of you) it’s right back to gaming. Plops down in his chair, signs onto discord (definitely not to obsessively watch for if you send him a message, he doesn’t do that, nuh uh) and- it’s gone. He could have sworn he left it right on the desk when he got up to give you a too-tight and too-lingering goodbye hug, but it’s definitely not there anymore. He digs through his drawers and scatters his desk, even tears through his sheets because in truth, he was a wee bit distracted at the time, but there’s no trace of it.

This is where he starts to get frustrated. Sure, he has others, but that one was made for him and his “playing style” (a special made controller he ordered due to his little five finger handicap). He doesn’t know where it possibly could have gone, but he wants the damn thing, so he’s going to find it.

He rips his room completely apart compulsively, tearing the poor place a new asshole in his search efforts. He’s so engrossed in making a complete disaster that he doesn’t notice a little ping from you until he finally flips down in his chair, bristling with irritation and defeat. And what do you know? It’s a picture of your soft little hands cradling his favorite controller.

‘Think I accidentally pocketed your controller. I’ll swing by tomorrow and bring it if you want?’

At first, he’s a little confused, because how the hell did you manage that? How does one “accidentally” pocket a controller? He takes a minute to think how on earth that possibly could have happened, tries to envision ways it maybe just slipped into your bag or ended up with your things, but his mind draws a blank there- and that leaves only one real possibility.

You slippery little thing. You took it on purpose.

He’s heard of that before. Girls taking their crushes hoodies or little trinkets or even leaving things at their place so they have an excuse to see them again. He just never thought it would happen to him. Once the realization hits him, he gets those fluttery little butterflies sending waves of glee radiating through his guts- and another fucking erection because he desperately wants to be all up in yours.

He tells you it’s totally fine, and sure, you can come by and drop it off tomorrow… or whatever. Not that he cares. You’d never guess from the total smooth, nonchalant nature of his reply that he’s practically crawling out of his skin with excitement at the prospect. He gets to see you twice in such a short span? Gets to touch you, smell you, breathe your air and get you on his bed for the second time this week?

Sign him the fuck up.

That being said, if you’re going to take his beloved controller, the least you can do is give him a little something in return. Maybe a teensy weensy little video of you grinding on the handle moaning his name and groping your tits or maybe just a picture of you naked and playing with it if that was a bit too much- you’re a creative girl, you could figure something out to make it up to him. Though he can give you plenty of ideas if you can’t.

He wonders if you like him enough to do it if he asks. You did take his prized possession after all. It’s the least you can do.

#morgana and friends #shigaraki x reader #nsft #there is for you earlier anon some nice taste of controller violation #sarcasm up top in case it wasn’t obvious #I did make it degenerate though so you’re welcome #I hope you all know better than to come to me for soft sweet things

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nhinxsworld · 3 years ago

Text

I wrote this but was scared to publish this but then I saw someone write about Kakashi using his chidori and felt less bad about having these thoughts 🥲🥲🥲 this one

Kakashi x reader

warning: elctric/shoking, bdsm, marking, knife play, blood play, pain, mild switching, praise

"You know I'm real skilled with ninja wire." Kakashi tells you and you rolled your eyes.

It must be another one of his ridiculous ideas again, lately he been saying really strange things.

He was showing off obvious skills you knew he had perfect since he was a child.

"I know that Kakashi, we've known each other for years already. Unless you've developed a new jutsu I won't be impressed by your skills." you told him looking back at the white haired ninja walking behind you.

The all too familiar book in his hand.

"Yeah I'm just pointing it out again." he smiles through his eyes.

Walking backward you looked at him as he just kept his eyes on the book and you threw a hidden knife at him that he barely catches.

"I'm real good with knifes yknow?" you smirked and he raised a brow.

"I think we both have enough scars darling." he throws the knife back and caught it with another one by the ring "hmmmm but none of your scars are from me and none of mine are from you."

He sighs packing his book away "I guess so."

"So what do you suggest we do?" he asks as you two walked deeper into the woods. A little wooden cabin hid in the depths of th forest.

When arriving at you twos hiding spot you pushed him against the next tree your katana barley missing his face. Though it doesn't seemed to faze him the slightest.

"You let me cut you and I let you wire me." you smiled sweetly.

He sighs "I was hoping you'd like it and it wouldn't come with a prize."

The silver haired man takes of his vest putting it to the ground.

"Ouh I do like it Kakashi." you chuckled "But I've always wanted to leave my mark on the so infamous copy ninja."

Your hands land on his shirt and pulled it off him, he laughs as you spin your knife in your hand "Hmm...you want to own me?"

"Hmm I'm a bit possessive as you know." you traced over a scar on his body "I love knowing you're mine."

"Where would you like the scar to go?" you ask him and he shrugs as your hand traced over his toned torso.

It doesn't take long until you latch your lips to his skin biting on sucking.

"Ahh?? Thought you just want to cut me?" he runs his hand through your hand and pulls a bit when your bites and suck get a bit harsher "A fuck." he cursed when your knife starts to cut into his skin.

"I know you don't actually like knifes and cuts on your skin my dear." you kissed his skin "But I love seeing you bleed and bruised I'm sorry."

You kissed and licked away the blood drawing with your knife carefully.

"Could we do this inside?" he asks and you shake your head "Scared someone's going to pass by?"

"I think I'll have it worst later." you licked your lips, his blood sweet "I'd like to enjoy this, because Kakashi you always hide behind this mask."

You pulled his mask down revealing his flushed face "Why do you even try to keep your cool with me?"

"I know you." you tapped his chin "Always standing so proud and tall." cupping his face in your hand you bought him in for a kiss "You have emotions, I've always hated these rules."

His face is tinted pink it was adoring to you, neck, shoudler, chest and torso covered with bites and bruises.

Clean cuts on his shoudler slowly cutting out your initials inside a row of hickeys that formed a little heart.

Pulling away you admired your work his old scars were glowing a light pink as well, it was adorable.

Licking the last blood of your blade you packed it away.

Kakashi whiped the access droll that was left from your sloppy kiss of his lips.

"For someone who acts like he doesn't like it, you're looking a bit thight." you chuckled.

He rolled his visble eye and pushed himself of the wall.

Getting your bag your smeered some creme over his wound "I want a scar on you, but I don't want it to infected. My blade was sterilized."

"So you already knew I'd let you?" Kakashi got something out his bag which you assumed to be the wire.

"Oh please, you love me. It just fluttered my lashes a couple times you would have agreed a no matter what." you laughed.

He points up the tree and you looked at him questiongly. Climbing up to crown of the trees he looks around for a bit before starting to wire up whatever he had planed out.

"Undress." he tells you and you start to strip just letting your clothes rest on a branch.

Standing there in your underwear you were starting to get cold.

"Are you going to undress those too are do you want me to cut through them?" he asks as he hold the wire in his hand. You shoke your head and took eveything off.

He wraps the wire around you while you two were still standing on the branch. The silver haired threw the wire around like he knew exactly what he was doing.

They were mainly wrapped around branches, some pinned down by a kunai.

It was starting to look complicated and he looks at you "Don't scream yeah?"

You were a bit confused but he tugged on the wire and it pushed you off the branch you two were standing.

Letting out small gasp your heart starts pounding your were hanging of wires in the air "Kakashi..."

Hanging in midst between trees by ninja wires underneath you seemed to be some spider web spun by him and he walks on it over to you "Pretty?"

Your eyes followed all the wires that were now all tense.

He pulled at a single wire and you immediately felt the vibration of the wire against your skin and it burns.

Kakashi smiles at you "I asked you something, I put so much thought into this."

You wanted to nod but the wire was so thight right at your neck, it hurt moving just a inch, you decided just to talk "it's pretty."

"Glad you like it."

His hands draws over skin "You look beautiful."

Walking around you, you follow his movements but once he stood behind you, you couldn't see him anymore. Not being able to turn or do anything you just accepted.

His hands were placed around your waist and he hugs you from behind "Are you cold dear? I'll warm you up soon."

"Uh huh..." you were a bit nervous honestly.

"Anything out of place? Is anything to thight? Does it hurt?" He asks you "I'll fix it." he puts his head on your shoudler.

"No...it's fine.." you said softly and he nods his hands start to travel over your body "seeing you like this makes me want to mark you too..."

"Is that okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'd actually like that." you answered as his hand grope your chest while the other runs over your tight.

Your body starts to shake and the wires digged deeper in your body.

"The more you shake and move, the more it hurts love." he kisses your shoulder, to calm you down a bit.

"You know I used to be a torturer." he tells you as kisses and sucks your shoulder his hand on your lower area "as people say do things long enough and you'll find a intrest or a liking to it."

You whined at his words, he only chuckels as he felt you getting wetter and wetter "Oh darling I might have worried for nothing. You seem to like this alot."

Feeling the vibration of his laugh down your back, you just hummed embarrassed.

"Getting white hair from worrying." he jokes before continuing to touch you "My pretty darling."

Though he stops and takes another wire and wrapes it on one infront of you "what are you doing..?"

The question was rather quickly answered when he pulled the wire between your legs and starts to pull it was right between your lower lips and you let out another gasp.

He played the string like a guitar and it made you feel weak between your legs.

Tying that down he held another one "Where do you think this one is going?"

"I don't know..." you told him and he shrugs stepping back infront of you so carefully on the webbed floor underneath you two.

"Ninja string is made out of a mix of metallics, silk and a tad of pliable." he explains.

"Yeah I know a more stable nylon." you added and he nods "do you know my element?"

It didn't take you long to figure out what he wanted to do "Please....don't..."

He tied the string to a coin "You know when I was in the anbu" he started to story and played with the coin and string "Almost weekly I had to do interrogation and torture."

Showing you the coin he let his chakra run through it and you could see a hint of the white electric chakra.

"I usually use a really big amount of chakra to create my chidori. But during the time I made chidori I found out I could do more with it." he touches your skin with the coin and it zaps you.

It surprised you letting out a small shriek, your whole body shaking pushing your skin painfuly against the strings.

"It hurts but it doesn't kill, leaves barley any wounds and yet is enough so people would spill. If you add a little bit of trauma to it, it's a perfect torturing method." he explains "The eye is always very popular place for any kind of trauma play." he says holding it to your eye barely any spaces in between.

"Sometimes just diffrent touches of it is already enough. Putting it to the head messes insanely with brainwaves." he chuckels and held the coin to your head and you clench your eyes shut "No...I'm not doing that to you."

"I'm just playing, that be too cruel." he smiles zapping your nippel with the coin, making you flinch, the strings digging into yout flesh "I'll only tease you abit, I'm not that mean."

Placing the coin back in his pocket he hums walking closer to you pressing his tumb to your pouty lips "Just too cute aren't you?"

Taking his hand of your lips he smiles at you putting his hand on your throat you felt a immense shock in your throat making you choke and scream.

Your whole body reacts to the little shock. Your entire body feel so upset about it, feeling nauseous and sick.

"I like that expression on you." he says as touches your face "Actually I love this expression on you."

Eyes looking hazy, droll coming from your lips from the shock and pain, body shaking and yet your legs seem to shake in such a needy manner.

He sighs softly taking in your sight "You're so pretty." he hold your face in his hand.

Another zap is given and your body was spazing out the wire felt like its cutting your skin, you can't help yourself but shake.

Not just from pain but from need and pleasure.

You're a fucking masochist, one of the worst kind. If it wasn't for Kakashi being your partner you'd probably be able to get off to your enemies hurting you.

"Kakashi..." you moaned his name and he chuckels "Oh darling, this is really bad."

"If you keep making that face and say my name like that I might get over exited." he says and he grabs your face and presses his lips against yours you could feel the electricity run through your body almost paralyzing "Come on, tell me who is making you feel like this. Who is making you their plain slut?"

Trying to look at him with your haze blurry eyes "You...you sir. You kakashi!"

#kakashi hakate #kakashi x y/n #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake smut #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years ago

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little mystery

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: tattoos, alcohol consumption, gambling/betting money, mild swearing (i actually don't think there is any but just in case), baby spence!!, no smut/or implied smut but it reads a little dirty (so i’m gonna rate this 18+ anyway) Word Count: 1.8k Summary: Bets are placed to see who can be the first to figure out the secret location of your tattoo, and what the tattoo is.

A/N: i was browsing pinterest for my next ink inspiration (the whole country is currently in lockdown, but a girl can dream), when i stumbled across a particular tattoo, featured in this fic, and this idea just came to me ah i hope you ENJOY!

“A recent study concluded that people with tattoos are more likely to be so called experience seekers, and they tend to lean more towards rebellious, non-conforming lifestyles.” Spencer stated glancing between the group. His eyes lingering a little longer on you. “Research also shows, people who choose to get tattooed feel a stronger need to claim their identity and stand out from the crowd.”

Derek chuckled while taking a sip of his drink. “Kid, not everyone that has a tattoo is an attention seeker or a criminal. Many who get inked lead perfectly normal and stable lives.”

“It’s a form of self expression.” Morgan continued. “It doesn't necessarily mean people with multiple tattoos are wildings. I mean look at Y/N, she’s got like ten and she's far from a non-conformist.”

All heads turned in your direction.

“Ten is an over exaggeration Morgan.” You replied with a light giggle before looking directly at Spencer. “It’s eight. I have eight tattoos.” You said shooting him a smile. A mix of intrigue quickly spread across his features.

Of course, he was aware you had a couple of tattoos. Like the tiny heart on your left index finger. The crescent moon just above your right elbow. Or the rose on the inside of your left bicep. Given that the two of you were similar in age, the young doctor didn't think you would have that many.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a huge difference.” He teased, granting Penelope to nudge him in the arm. The bubble blonde then turned to you. “You have eight tattoos?” She asked with a raised brow. “How come I didn't know this about you? I know everything.”

“Because you never asked me and eight really isn't that much. Plus they’re all pretty simple and dainty. Well... actually... all apart from the snake slithering between my boobs.” You responded nonchalantly causing the males at the table to simultaneously choke on their drinks.

The girls all whistled before erupting into laughter at the suddenly red faces of the three boys. Hotch stared silently at the half-empty class in his hands, Derek nervously cleared his throat, while Spencer gaped at you completely wide-eyed.

The image you just painted circulating in his mind.

“Don’t be shy, tell us, any other risqué body art?” Emily chimed once the laughter died down.

“Uhm, there is one but I really don't think it’s appropriate to share.” You answered, a sly smile circling your lips. JJ and Emily both groaned at your response. “Now you have too!” The blonde exclaimed, but you just shook your head.

“Only a handful of people know what it is, and where it is.” Your eyes locked briefly with the brunette doctor sat across from you. Not enough time for anyone at the table to notice, but enough to get him a tiny bit flustered.

“What if we guessed?” Emily enquired, her eyes sparkling mischievously. You giggled. “If one of you manages to guess both what and where it is, I will tell you whether you’re correct.”

“I want in on this little bet.” Derek chimed confidently. “I can get you talkin’ hot stuff.” He shot you a playful wink and took another sip of his drink. Hotch snickered next to him. “I wouldn't be so certain Morgan.” “Oh, and you think you can?” Derek asked sarcastically. “Maybe.” Hotch poised, shrugging his shoulders.

“Right.” JJ clapped her hands. “Let’s make this interesting. Everyone that wants to take part place a ten dollar bet on themselves, and the winner will take the pot.” She turned to you. “We’ll give you the money for safekeeping and once one of us guesses correctly, you can rightfully pass the cash onto that person.”

“Sounds good to me.” You replied with a grin. “But what if none of you guess? Who keeps the money then?” “Do you forget who you work with? We’re FBI agents, profilers, one of us is bound to figure it out.” Morgan stated making you giggle.

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Oh! And whoever wins gets to see this mysterious ink of yours.” Emily added teasingly.

Just like that a pile of cash formed in the middle of the table. You reached out to grab it when a hand slowly slid across with a neatly folded ten dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes snapped up to meet the determined gaze of none other than the resident genius.

“I want to take part too.” He said, trying his best not to appear jittery. The grin currently embellishing your features swelled, and Spencer took note of the devilish sparkle in your eyes. “Well all right.” You responded, fingers brushing lightly against his as you retrieved the money. An instant spark tingled through both you and Spencer.

The night carried on. You were bombarded with questions that would give the team any sort of clue as to what the tattoo could be, but you didn't budge. It was a lot more fun seeing your friends struggle. The only person that didn't say anything further on the matter was the young doctor sat across from you. In true Spencer Reid fashion, he simply listened and observed.

About an hour later, he accompanied you to the bar for another round of drinks. After ordering for everyone, you quickly glanced at him. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” You asked causing him to break away from his thoughts and turn his attention to you. He lightly scrunched his nose.

“I’m just wondering when is the most appropriate time to tell everyone what your secret tattoo is.”

Your mouth parted ever in shock, eyes widened. “There is no way you know.”

“Actually, I not only know what and where it is. I also know when you got it and why.” He stated confidently.

“Alright then, tell me.” You challenged taking a step towards him. Spencer stiffened for a brief moment. Your sudden closeness caused the heat to rush to his face and his heart to skip a beat. All he could do was hope you didn't notice; which of course you did.

With a raised brow and your fingers tapping lightly on the wooden bar, you waited for Spencer to respond. You were about to say something like, ‘See, I knew you were bluffing.’, but he cleared his throat. Regaining his confidence.

“It’s the word ‘bite’ written in cursive on your ehm, on your left b-buttcheek. And you got it your freshmen year of university as a result of a drunken game of truth or dare with your friends. I believe it was either getting the tattoo or shaving your head.” He was, of course, correct. Every word.

You stared at him in disbelief. This you definitely did not expect. Spencer on the other hand seemed quite pleased with himself. It’s not often he’s the one to rattle you.

“H-how, how did you-” You shook your head. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” Your lips twirled into a smile. “Congratulations doctor.” Without really thinking, you leaned in closer and placed a soft kiss on his cheek causing once again for the blood to rush to his face. Once you pulled away, his hand immediately travelled to the spot.

“What, uhm, what was that for?” He asked and you shrugged. “An extra prize considering it didn't even take you ninety minutes to win. I hope that was okay?” He quickly nodded his head. “Ye-a, yes.” “Good.” And with that you kissed his cheek again.

He couldn't help but grin proudly as the two of you ambled back to the table, each holding a tray of drinks.

“What’s got you so happy, kid?” Morgan asked, drawing attention to Spencer’s expression.

“Spencer just won your little bet.” You replied, placing the tray down and reaching into your purse for the money. Although his win was definitely part of the reason for his increased good mood, it had more to do with the spot on his cheek that was still tingling from your kiss. But he’d never say that out loud.

Gasps of shock echoed through the team. “What?! There is no way he’s won already!” JJ exclaimed. “He cheated. Did you give him extra hints because you have a soft spot for him?” Emily accused, narrowing her eyes.

“Nope.” Your mouth popped. “He definitely won fair and square.” You stated before shifting your body weight to look the young doctor. Smiling, you handed him his winnings. He didn't hesitate to take them, eyes never leaving yours.

“Well pretty boy, what is it?!” Derek enquired eagerly. Spencer waited for you to nod your head before turning to address the team. He revealed the design and location of your secret tattoo in one breath as you watched, finding their reactions amusing.

“How did you figure that out?” Penelope asked.

“A little mystery never hurt.” You chimed before Spencer got a chance to respond, and proceeded to intertwine your fingers with his. His head snapped first down at your glued hands, and then up at your face. He wanted to ask what was happening, completely forgetting what else the winning prize entailed, as you were leading him away from the table.

Morgan and Emily whistled after the two of you, the rest of the group laughing.

It wasn't until you were walking into the bathroom, locking the door behind, that the realisation hit Spencer. He swallowed his breath and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

You quickly noticed the nervous look on his face. “We don't have to do this if you don't want to. If you’re uncomfortable.” You said in your usual kind and caring tone.

“No, uhm, it’s okay. B-but if you don't want to?” He mumbled. “I don’t have to see it if you don’t want to show me, or anyone for that matter. We can just pretend.”

You smiled at him, your hands travelling to the zipper of your jeans. “A bet’s a bet, and like I said, you won fair and square.”

“Y-you, are you sure you don't want to know how I figured it out?” Spencer asked, voice breaking. The palms of his hands began to sweat. He wasn't sure where to look. Did you want him looking directly at you? Or was he supposed to keep his attention on something else until you were ready to show the tattoo?

“A little mystery never hurt.” You repeated what you said earlier to the group and pulled your pants down, just low enough to display the tattoo in question.

Spencer’s gaze landed on the writing. At this point his heart was hammering inside of his chest, and he was sure it would explode any second. His eyes widened as he slowly licked his lips. He was sure this was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do you like it?” A seemingly innocent question, although the intention behind it was anything but.

Spencer nodded his head. “I-I...y-es, I do.” His eyes gradually moved up your body until they once again locked with your gaze. His pupils now flared.

A mischievous smirk escaped your mouth. “I always knew you had a naughty side, doctor.”

spencer reid taglist: spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner

masterlist

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #little mystery fic

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