#that's my favourite way to consume content

[sorryimananti-romantic]

to a dying? atinyblr

i don't usually speak about these things, but a lot of blogs (amazing writers) are leaving this platform or taking time off bc of lack of engagement which serves as a big demotivating factor. especially and specifically in this atiny fandom, some things have come to my attention and i just want all readers and writers to take a look at this post and refresh some reading and writing etiquettes, as well as revive the essence of being a part of this fandom.

feedback:

i understand that there are a lot of silent readers on here, but since tumblr is dying and our fandom is not very huge, the least you can do to show the writers some support is like the post. 

which brings me to the point that the like function didn't even exist in the past. this site still runs on reblogs. as readers, to show your favourite writers some semblance of support, you should be reblogging with tags. a simple ‘#ateez x reader’ or ‘#ateez fics’ is enough. it's literally not asking for much– reblogs are the only way writers can get reach.

if you cannot do that bc of your blog's aesthetic or whatever, side blogs exist. if you still cannot do that, a simple anon ask appreciating the writer sometimes saves them.

also, what has happened to the quality of reblogs? readers consume years of writers’ work and efforts in mere hours and don’t even leave any feedback? art in general in all forms is very underappreciated and with all sorts of problems like plagiarism, ai writing and everything, true art and writing is dying and needs to be appreciated now more than ever. we’re literally the last generation witnessing ai take over in all fields of arts. appreciate content creators before it’s too late, don’t be a content glutton!

updates and requests:

asking writers for updates when they specifically mention that they would prefer posting at their pace is wrong for so many reasons– we all have a real life. you, the reader, do too. just like you don't always have time to read, writers don't always have time to write. do you ever see the writers asking their readers 'why have you not read my latest chapter?' 

most of the times, writers mention in their bio/faq post or elsewhere that they do mind being asked about updates. respect your writers, please, and do a little scroll before you send such demanding asks (also, sugarcoating when asking for updates does not make it any better!)

if you are only asking about updates, it demotivates a lot of writers bc these same people will disappear when it is time for feedback. writing is a form of art. we can write, artists can paint, musicians can compose music, but all of it has no meaning unless it is shared with an audience and appreciated. readers are just as important as the writers but there is no way of knowing fics are valued unless feedback is given.

the same goes for requests. you can only send a request when the requests are open, which is usually mentioned in the writer’s bio/faq post. it’s literally not that hard to check if requests are open and it’s basic decency to not send a request when the writers specifically mention that requests are closed. when sending a request, please be courteous. a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ are examples of being courteous when sending requests.

the fanfics in atinyblr:

i understand that you can read whatever you like, but why is it that in the atiny fandom, fics that do not contain smut hardly ever get attention? as a writer, i enjoy writing and reading smut, and while i am not specifically a smut blog, i have noticed how fics containing smut get far more reach than fics that do not contain smut– not just in my case, but other amazing writers as well. 

there are such amazing fictions in this fandom. all fics are crafted with dedication and care, yet stories without smut often get sidelined. writers are not able to express themselves in their writing freely anymore and they simply conform to a genre they know readers will consume, as they are forced to consider adding smut to their stories so they can get more reach in this fandom. i have heard accounts from a lot of writers who were inclined to add smut to an otherwise smut-free fic just for reach.

this is by no means hate to the smut writers. i am also not placing blame on them. smut drabbles have always been in this fandom, and there are amazing smut writers out there, doing their thing. it is the readers here who are failing the writers. readers are quick to talk about the lack of ‘good fics’ or ‘plot’ yet will not even bother searching for these works. there used to be a good balance and appreciation for all genres alike.

i know that smut is what's hot and trendy these days, and drabbles in general, no matter the genre, are easier to read when you want to take a short break. but there is such a lack of longfics in this fandom, especially as of lately, and as someone who has personally witnessed the ratio of longfics decrease exponentially, i felt the need to point this out. appreciate all writers! appreciate all genres! longfic writers need as much validation and encouragement as drabble writers, and vice versa! don't be too harsh on longfic writers for not pumping out fics at the same speed as shortfic writers.

and on that note, smut drabble writers experience a lack of quality feedback despite the high engagement, so readers, please don't hesitate to point out exactly what you liked about a fic, even if it's a short drabble! be kind to those writers, give them time to write and be kind when sending requests! they may post more often but they, too, have a life.

tags:

this is specifically for the people who will post a very normal picture of a member, no caption, but tag it something like #ateez smut, #ateez hard hours, #ateez x reader. and for the people who tag their asks with irrelevant tags– literally learn to tag your post properly, and stop crowding the wrong tags. you're just proving the point that if you don't tag a post with the smut tag or something similar, it won't get reach. if you've posted with a caption, that makes sense (though it still doesn't warrant some of the tags being used there).

as for writers, also learn to use your tags appropriately. fics that do not contain smut should not be tagged with smut related tags. believe in yourself. i get that there is the problem of reach but do not overcrowd tags with irrelevant material.

disclaimer:

this is by no means about me. if i cared about the notes, or lack thereof, i would have stopped writing a while ago. while it is challenging to be a writer here, especially as of lately, i still enjoy posting whatever i write no matter the genre or the word count. but it's a bit disappointing that my planned out fics get much less attention than a simple smut headcanons post that i wrote in the heat of the moment with my friend in literally a few hours as a joke (which has reached almost 10k notes btw in a span of 2 years). sure, it has exposed my blog to new readers but that's about it.

this post is for all the amazing writers who have left, are thinking of leaving, or are struggling to voice these problems because they are afraid of being marked as 'problematic' or a 'hater' or something worse. i am not afraid to voice my opinion on here, and if you think that i am wrong, feel free to interact with this post and correct me because i am not claiming that i am right about this.

these are just the observations i have made as someone who has been actively writing on this platform for about 4 years now, and since i have a decent number of followers, i hope this post gets more reach. do not be afraid to reblog this if you agree, and even if you do not, reblog this so someone else gets educated. i may have missed some points so feel free to add if you want too.

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

They weren't kidding when they said studying filmmaking would ruin change the viewing experience forever. I can't watch anything without a running commentary about lighting and framing and blocking and logistics and whatnot running through my mind. But I also get to appreciate all the little details that I wouldn't have noticed before. And I get to acknowledge things that might seem like an issue on the surface, and then discard them and choose to enjoy what I'm watching anyway. I like having that power.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[dearneuvi]

MDNI - scar x fem!reader, oral (f. receiving), this game has me in a chokehold

“Really?” Scar laughs, hands resting on your thighs amused with just how easy he found himself getting you sprawled out underneath him. “You’re quiet now? Where’d my favourite little viper go?”

You don’t reply. You can’t. Opening your mouth, letting out those noises he’s been so desperately trying to coax from you, saying anything that might let him know, for certain, he’s got you so perfectly under his thumb. You won’t risk it.

But he already knows.

His warmth on your skin, his rough fingers pulling at your clothing as he watches your glazed expression; he watches as you impatiently wait for him to touch you again. Almost completely naked underneath him, you should feel more shame, more embarrassment, more hatred for the man. But you just can’t bring yourself to care as he rises above you, pulling at your underwear until you fidget beneath him, giving him just enough room to slide the clothing down your legs.

“You’re going to make me work for it, huh.” Your eyebrows furrow as you scowl at him, biting your lip to stop your rebuttal—you don’t trust your voice. Scar lets out a laugh, a condescending sound that, you hate to admit, sends shiver throughout your body. “Don’t look at me like that.” He leans down again, nose bumping against yours deceptively softly, his breath warm and wet against your lips. “It makes me want to devour you.”

Dipping his head he presses a chaste kiss to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Lower and lower, his hair tickling your bare skin. Scar moves agonisingly slowly, teasing you with the tiny touches, tongue lazily swiping at the skin of your thigh.

Your sharp intake of breath is bliss to his ears; you barely manage to hold in the soft whimper threatening to escape as you look down to him, meeting his eyes, looking too content settled between your legs.

His eyes don’t leave yours and you can’t look away even if you wanted to, you’re hypnotised by his gaze as he, finally, runs his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of your arousal. Scar watches you with a smug look, waiting for the moment you let your shields down, let yourself come undone because of him.

It isn’t until his tongue circles your clit and his lips surround the sensitive bud when he finally lives to his words and devours. You’re broken from your trance, head falling to the pillow as his tongue moves with perfect precision, pulling sound after embarrassing sound from your throat.

You try to hold them back; you intend to push him away but the second you hands get close they tangle in his hair pulling him closer with a tight grip. Or, as tight as you can manage as the bolts of pleasure shock through your body.

Pulling away only to brush his teeth against the inside of your thigh, thumb rubbing continuous circles against your clit, relishing in the way your body writhes wishing he had some way of immortalising the image in that moment. Wondering what your righteous friends would think if they knew how easy it had been to get you into this position; to almost have you begging for the release he was in charge of.

Scar latches himself to your cunt. Consuming you like you are his very life force, drinking you in as though you were his first meal in weeks. The obscene sounds full the room, his guttural moans as you rake your fingers into his hair mix with your breathless words. Your chants of please encouraging him to torment you further, detaching himself from you as your body stiffens, leaving you seconds from your climax.

You whine as he catches your hands, desperate to push yourself over that edge he’s leaving you teetering on, lacing his fingers between yours. “Scar.” Your breathless voice, pitiful in comparison to what he’s so familiar with. His viper long gone, replaced with such a meek creature—he wants to break you down more.

He rises, pressing himself against you as his lips fan yours again. Your hips grind against his, glazed eyes meeting his and soft panting warming his skin.

You must have lost your mind. You’ve let him get you exactly where he wants you.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” He cooes, pushing his hips in response to yours, your moan swallowed quickly as he catches you in a messy kiss, taking the last of your sanity with his surprising expertise. Scar smirks as he finally pulls away, your body shaking beneath him, and clawing at his clothing. “I’m far from done with you.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson is my favorite lil guy

And my favorite way of consuming content of my favorite lil guy is the core 5 titans

There is also about 5 billion pieces of media where these 5 interact and some of it sucks so here I am scrapbooking canon together with glue and scissors so I can talk about how I view Dicks relationship with the other OG titans and how different these relationships are from one another while all still being boiled down to found family love

Dick & Donna: Listen. To. Me. These two aren't besties, or fav teammates or siblings. These two are the sun and earth revolving around each other except they each think the other one is the Sun. Dick Grayson and Donna Troy are the blueprint for platonic soulmates. Dick and Donna make everyone around them believe in ancient story by plato "humans once had 4 arms and legs and 2 faces and the God Zeus split them in half for their hubris and now they are destined to roam the earth forever looking for their other half". If y'all think Dick wasn't doing well after Jason died?? Donna Troys death fundamentally changed who Dick Grayson was and how he was written in teams for years. Donna Troy and Dick Grayson absolutely have debated getting platonically married (not canon but it is in my heart) and the only reason they haven't is BC if they do, Donna will kidnap Dick and never let him within 1000 feet of Bruce Wayne and Gotham.

Dick & Roy: remember how I said Dick was fucked up post Troias death in the comics? yeah? Roy Harper is the only reason he made it out of that period of his life alive. These two are like fire and Gasoline, they're quick and angry and always inexplicably near each other. They are VICIOUS with one another in a way they almost never are with anyone else. They try so hard to ruin their relationship bc implicitly they know (unless its the new 52 which I ignore for my own mental wellbeing-hey I did say this was a scrap book of canons) they'll always be there for each other. Roy Harper never misses, Dick Grayson cannot fall and yet Dick is there to hold Roy when his hand trembles and Roy is there to catch Dick when he loses his Grip.

Dick Grayson is the first person Roy calls to get Lian

Roy Harper is the designated keep Dick Grayson alive even if he has to tie the bastard up-

Dick (and wally depending on the run) help Roy with his addiction)

these two are each others roman empires

Dick & Wally: to cut back on the pretentious seriousness of this post. Every time these two are drawn together be it 80s road trips or being the most likeable part of tom Taylors run. Wally west always reads like he's about to invite Dick to swing with him and his wife. If you see them as platonic, romantic (right person wrong time is my favourite Fanon flavour but canonically I like em besties) or somewhere in between Wally West is always Dick Graysons best friend. There is something so wholesome about the fact that Wally canonically stalks checks up on Dick Grayson as much as he does his wife and twins and Dick who is a bat, notorious for expressing their love via breaking into your house and doing your casework for you. Is getting stalked checked up on by someone who loves him without it triggering his "see obviously you're not good enough they're literally babysitting you" paranoia. its like meeting your partners love language needs but its for deeply messed up individuals. They canonically call themselves best friends, and while Dick will always love Roy he always Likes being around Wally (as well as love him but that's a given)

(sidetone are you even besties if people don't think you're dating when they meet you?)

Dick & Garth: The amount of trust, love and respect that tempest holds for Nightwing melts my damn heart (but then again everything garth does melts my damn heart, baby Garth you will always be famous) they are such an underrated pairing and I love the fact that no matter the media, whether they're rivals like in the cartoons or Garth deferring to Dick as leader to the point where he disobeys aquaman (rebirth) Bc yeah THATS how much my purple eyed perfect boy trusts wing. There is always this really sweet understanding that Garth can go to Dick for advice (he asks for Donna advice in titans and advice on his relationship with Dolphin in the comics). And him and Dicks reunion post RIC? I love them sm. Its just... There was also a period of time where Garth was the only titan with sense and tbh sometimes its refreshing to see that when the rest of them (except donna she was dead at the time we never say a bad word about donna in this household) are being fucking insane

[rynwritesreid]

MunchSpencer, stressed bau reader 😉 do ur thing

A/N: I will absolutely do my thing for you iluvreid. Did I base this of that video of MGG eating that pie? Yes. Do I think about that video daily? Yes. Also to answer somebody else’s questions, I am planning on writing Luke fics in the future, and I do take Rossi requests (I take all requests that are to do with CM). I am also working through everyone’s else’s request, I’m waiting for some inspiration on the song ones :) As always jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Content: Smut and Fluff. Fem! Reader. Overstimulation. Oral (F! receiving). Vaginal fingering. Slight dom/sub undertones. Mentions of doing this at work in the future. Munch! Spencer. Pet names (princess). A little argument to start of with, but it’s resolved quickly.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation.

 

Spencer had noticed how you were acting at work; he knew all the signs of you being stressed out. He tried his hardest to de-stress you at work, he had brought you all of your favourite snacks, he made sure you had plenty of water and coffee, but none of this seemed to be working.

 

Once you were both at home, he tried to ask you what was wrong, but you just shrugged him off, asking him to just leave you alone for a minute. “I’m not going to leave you alone; I know something is wrong. Just tell me.” His voice was strained, he was becoming frustrated, not with you, but because he didn’t know what to do.

 

“Spencer, back off. Nothing is wrong, I’ve told you. I’m just tired.” You bite back at him. You knew he was trying to be helpful, but you just wanted some piece of quiet.

 

“Something is wrong, why aren’t you telling me? Let me help you out here.” Spencer's voice softened as he watched the frustration etched on your face. He understood that his insistence might have been adding to your stress, but he couldn't bear to see you in pain. With a sigh, he took a step closer and gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

 

"I'm sorry if I'm coming across as pushy. I just hate seeing you like this, and I want to be there for you," he whispered against your hair, his fingers slowly rubbing soothing circles on your back. Spencer knew what would help him out if he was stressed, and he knew it would also work on you.

 

See, Spencer’s favourite place was to be in-between your legs. If he could, he would spend every hour, of every day there, exploring every inch of your body, losing himself in the pleasure he found there. He cherished the way you moaned his name, the way your legs would tremble as he brought you to the edge of ecstasy.

 

His hands continued their caress, moving lower down your back until they reached the curve of your hips. He could feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as his touch seeped into your pores, bringing warmth and comfort. The rhythm of his movements matched the beating of your heart, steady and reassuring.

 

"I know you're tired, but maybe... just maybe, I can help you relax," Spencer murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of gentleness and desire. He guided you towards the bedroom, with every intention of not letting you leave until you were totally relaxed.

 

As he undressed you with utmost care, his fingertips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Spencer's touch was like a delicate dance. His lips followed suit, pressing soft kisses along the path his hands had taken.

 

You found yourself surrendering to his ministrations, allowing the weight of the world to be lifted from your shoulders as pleasure consumed you. The stress that had plagued you all day melted away under the skilled touch of your lover.

 

The bed welcomed you both, its soft sheets cradling your bodies as Spencer continued his exploration. He knew every inch of you, every secret spot that drove you wild with desire. His mouth found its way to your neck, peppering it with butterfly kisses before trailing down to your collarbone.

 

A sigh escaped your lips, mingling with a gasp of pleasure as Spencer's tongue danced across your skin. The knots in your muscles unravelled as his hands glided over your body, burning away any remnants of stress. Your breath hitched as his lips descended further, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your chest, pausing to pay special attention to your sensitive breasts.

 

Spencer's touch was both tender and insistent, his fingers tracing patterns of desire across your skin. He knew exactly how to coax pleasure from your body, each stroke and caress tailored to elicit the most exquisite sensations. With every passing moment, the weight on your shoulders lifted, replaced by a growing sense of bliss that radiated from deep within.

 

Lust and love intertwined as Spencer's mouth found its way to the apex of your thighs. His tongue teased and taunted, sending electric currents of pleasure through your veins. Waves of heat cascaded through you, building with each flicker and swirl until they crashed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

 

Your moans filled the room, mingling with Spencer's own growls of desire as he revelled pleasure. His movements became more urgent, his tongue delving deeper, coaxing louder cries of satisfaction from your lips. You clutched onto his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you rode the waves of pleasure that consumed you.

 

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he devoured you with an intensity that left you gasping for breath. Your hips were instinctively rocking against his skilled mouth, grinding against his face in search of more.

 

Spencer's touch was relentless, his tongue and lips working tirelessly to ensure your pleasure knew no bounds. The sensation of his mouth on you, the wet heat, and the flicks of his tongue, sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. Your walls clenched around nothing as your body convulsed in bliss.

 

But Spencer didn’t plan on stopping now, he was never satisfied if he only made you cum once. And now, more than ever, he was going to continue, he knew you needed it, and he knew he wanted it.

 

Soon enough, his fingers joined his mouth slipping inside you with a precision that left you trembling. You hadn’t been able to come down from your first orgasm, and now you were soaring even higher. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers brought you to the brink of another climax within moments. Every stroke, every flick, and every curl of his fingers sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

You lost all sense of time and space, consumed by the pleasure that coursed through every fibber of your being. Your mind became a haze of pure desire as Spencer continued to bring you to new heights with every stroke, every flick of his tongue.

 

Spencer's movements became more insistent, his fingers moving with an urgency that matched the burning need in your core. Each stroke sent shockwaves through you, intensifying the pleasure that consumed you. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you teetered on the edge of yet another mind-shattering orgasm.

 

He paused, giving you a slight break. “Are you feeling better now, princess?”

 

You lay there, panting heavily, your body still trembling from the intense pleasure that Spencer had just bestowed upon you. Your mind was hazy, your senses heightened, and a sense of tranquillity washed over you. The stress that had weighed you down seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

 

You turned to look at Spencer, his face glowing with adoration as he admired the aftermath of his ministrations. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you nodded, the words caught momentarily in your throat.

 

"Yes," you finally managed to rasp out, your voice laced with awe and gratitude. "I feel... incredible."

 

Spencer's eyes sparkled with delight as he took in your response. He gently caressed your cheek, his touch feather-light against your flushed skin.

 

"Good," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "That's all I wanted."

 

“I think I should get stressed more often.”

 

Spencer chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lazily along your side. "If getting stressed means, I get to relieve your tension like this, then I might have to start causing trouble on purpose."

 

You playfully swatted his chest, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, so you're admitting that you enjoy being the cause of my stress?"

 

His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned down to capture yours in a lingering kiss.

 

“No, I’m admitting that I love hearing your moans, and it took all my might not to do this at work, but I can’t let the rest of the team hear how you moan for me. Those noises are for my ears only.”

 

Your heart raced at his words, a delicious mixture of desire and anticipation coursing through your veins. You had always known that Spencer had a playful side, but this level of raw intimacy was something new and exhilarating.

 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches from his as you whispered, "Well then, Agent Reid, I guess we'll have to find somewhere at work no one would be able to hear us”.

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

@iluvreid @nomajdetective @drspencieee @katieeeee314 @evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalynvtgtgfhvgg @krokietino @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee @purplepistachi0 @pleasantwitchgarden @bitchassbecky691 @piperb400 @queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @topguncultleader @luvpiercethekaty @anna-belle-xd @catsareawesomek @drreidsfavwhxre @oureternalbond

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You close the cupboard and nearly jump out of your skin as Adrienne stands on the other side of it. She stares at you soberly before she cracks a sheepish smile. You show your fright with a hand on your chest. 

“Ade,” you huff. 

She laughs, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.” 

“No problem,” you assure her. “What’s up?” 

Her nostrils flare and her smile dulls, “it’s been a week.” 

One week. Your father’s been away for a whole week. He’s rarely been gone that long. His jobs are never more than a couple days. And you haven’t heard from him, but that’s not unusual or disappointing. 

“Hopefully it will be another,” Kitty says as she walks into the kitchen with a half-finished glass of water. “It’s calm around her. Isn’t it?” 

You nod. A silence rises around the three of you. You think back to the one memory you have of a peaceful house. When it was the three of you and your mother. 

“He got that kidney stone,” Kitty says. “Had him in the hospital for days. Ma said it was barely the size of a bead.” 

“Best days of my life,” you agree. 

“I don’t remember,” Adrienne says. 

As the youngest, she doesn’t remember everything and you sometimes think that’s better for her sanity. Even your memory is splotchy. There are fractures of noise and vision. Sometimes you only see, other times it replays like a record on a player and crawls through your ears. 

“So, Ade, why are you so concerned?” Kitty inquires. 

Adrienne hesitates. She shrugs and looks away guiltily. She’s a bad liar. You all are despite the typical consequences. 

“Mitzi wanted to see a movie. They’re screening Breakfast at Tiffany’s at the Golden Reel.” 

“Audrey?” Kitty preens. “My favourite.” 

“You can come. I was going to ask both of you but I thought if daddy came back--” 

“And we’re all gone...” you add. “You two go. I can deal with him.” 

“That’s not fair,” Kitty says. 

“Really, go. I can’t focus on a movie right now.” You insist. “Have some popcorn for me, alright?” 

“He probably won’t be back,” Kitty argues. 

You wave her off, “really, it’s fine. You know I hate crowds. That theatre is tiny and it’ll probably be packed on a Friday night.” 

“Okay, but I’m bringing you back raisinettes. I know you love them.” Kitty insists. 

“Have fun. Tell Mitzi I said hello,” you turn back to the cupboards and run your hands over the laminate.  

You’ve been restless. You clean just to keep yourself busy. To keep from thinking. And when you lay down at night, you’re not kept awake by your usual dread. It isn’t your father standing on your chest, it’s Barnes. In your dreams, he doesn’t strut into the bakery, but into your house. And he sits at the table where your father would usually be and sits silently, waiting. 

That’s why this calm unsettles you. There’s always a storm to come after the quiet. It will unfurl soon enough. 

“Hey, you okay?” Kitty’s gentle touch makes you wince. 

“I’m good,” you assure her and nearly gag on your tongue. For a moment, it wasn’t your voice, it was your mother’s. That same lie she told for so long. You both hesitate at the echo of your lifetimes. “Really,” you face her, “you know I’m dying to have this place to myself. When does that ever happen?” 

She stares at you then smiles. “Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts.” 

She falters again. It’s what you���re all thinking. You want to milk every bit of joy out of your father’s absence.

Kitty turns and grabs Adrienne’s hand, quickly redirecting from the threat of inevitability, “Ade, what are you gonna wear?” 

You take out the flour and all the other ingredients you need. For once, you can afford to spare a bit extra. When you were really young, your mother made her own bread. That stopped shortly after she had Adrienne. She changed after that. She was exhausted with all three of you. 

You measure out every part before you begin. Your precision has always tied you in knots. You find it hard to get anything done unless it’s entirely orderly. In a house full of chaos, that means often you don’t get much done at all. 

As you knead the dough, Kitty and Adrienne’s voices garble on the stairs. They stomp down to the first floor and call a goodbye to you through the doorway. You holler back but keep your hands working. 

You get the loaf in the oven and clean up the mess. The empty house is eerie. You can’t remember the last time you were all alone. Really alone. Ever, if at all. 

You wash the bowls and the whisk and the roller. You put it all away, step-by-step, running through every single detail. The timer counts down, the small windable egg-shaped device your mother always had going for one way or another. Tick, tick, tick. 

It goes off and you jump. For a moment, you’re back in your memories. You’re a little girl at the table, watching your mother rush around the kitchen. Kitty’s beside you with a colouring book and Adrienne’s in her high chair. 

Your mother limps from the fridge to stove. She doesn’t let it deter her. She bends to take out the pan of food as the timer buzzes. Adrienne wails at the noise as you cover your ears. The smell of cigarette smoke singes in your nostrils. 

You twist the timer so it goes silent as you return to the present. The scent of tobacco fades as the fresh baked bread wafts through the kitchen. You open the creaky oven door and use the stained oven mitts to take the pan out. Your mother always wanted a new stove. You assume she wanted a lot of things that she never got. 

You put the pan down and shut off the oven. The doorbell pierces the air and you spin, your back hitting the counter. It wouldn’t be your father; he wouldn’t ring the door. He always comes in screaming, even in the middle of the night. 

You put the oven mitts on the table as you pass and step out into the hall. You near the door, a shadow on the other side of the marbled glass. It’s a man. Your heartbeat spikes. Your father is a criminal and a strange man knocking at your door could be dangerous. 

Is death so bad when living is terrifying? 

You open the door. A wash of deja vu flows over you. It isn’t a strange man, it’s Steve Rogers. Again. That doesn’t ease your worries. 

“You. Come.” He orders you. 

You hold your breath. That is unusual. Your father’s associates come and go, most times they barely acknowledge you, they’re just there to talk shit with him or drag him off on some caper. This is different. Different is dangerous. 

“Yeah, you,” he snaps his fingers. “Look, I don’t got all day. Let’s go.” 

You look down. “My shoes...” 

“Get ‘em,” he sighs and crosses his arms. 

You step back and leave the door open. You step into a pair of scuffed flats and turn back to him. You don’t even grab your keys as you step outside. You’re shaking. 

“Is it my father?” You ask. 

“No questions.” He snarls as he turns and marches down the narrow walkway. 

You follow him at a bouncing pace, struggling to keep up with him. He leads you to the car and opens the back door. It’s then that you notice the woman in his front seat. Her eyes are skittish as she peers back out at you. 

“Get in,” he opens the door. “And be quiet.” 

You put your head down and obey. The look on that woman’s face is enough to keep you in line. Besides, your father prepared you well. There’s an order to things and you’re at the very bottom. So keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told. 

[prettieinpink]

Cultivating a Growth Mindset

A growth mindset is the belief that one's skills, qualities, and abilities can be nurtured and enhanced through hard work and learning. Adopting this mindset makes you more open to challenges, embracing the unfamiliar or uncomfortable and willing to experience failure.

However, adopting this growth mindset means we must challenge our limiting self-beliefs that reinforce our fixed mindset. Limiting beliefs is the negative thoughts that hold us back, hindering our journey of self-improvement. 

RECOGNISE YOUR FIXED MINDSET. Start to be aware of how your fixed mindset, became your everyday internal dialogue. Fear of failure, procrastination, always being in your comfort zone or being a constant quitter could be why this mindset has been reinforced in your mind.

That being said, you need to start being conscious of what you’re saying to yourself daily. If you struggle with that, try speaking to yourself out loud, as it helps to be more aware of what you’re saying. 

REMOVE ANYTHING THAT DOESN’T ALIGN, i’m specifally talking about social media. There are so many self degarding or depreciating content(which are always disgusied as a ‘joke’) and the more you consume it, the more you believe it. 

However this can apply to your physical environment as well, such as people, sentimental objects or your actual space. 

START TO REDEFINE FAILURE. There are so many ways you can define failure, but my favourite has to be failure is the sacrifice for success. Of course, you can research other ways to redefine it that resonates with you.

However, allow yourself to grieve failures, especially if they had a huge impact on your life. The only way you can apply the lessons from failure in life is to process them. 

DO SOMETHING CHALLENGING EACH DAY. Whether it is giving yourself an extra 20 minutes at the gym, or trying to advance yourself in your studies, just do something that pushes you and hopefully, makes you struggle. 

Once we allow ourselves to struggle and be challenged, we start to develop the belief that being challenged is okay, not doing it perfect on the first try  is okay we can still do tasks without them being perfect + you’re also embracing failure. 

APPRECIATE YOUR EFFORT. Something is always better than nothing, not everything that we do has to be perfect to consider ourselves accomplished. Once we acknowledge the value of hard work and see how it impacts our day-to-day life, it enforces the belief that we can expand our skills even just by a little.

The perfect way to appreciate your effort is by celebrating or rewarding yourself. Allow yourself extra screen time, to sleep in, or do any of your favourite ‘unproductive’ activities. 

SEEK OUT NEW KNOWLEDGE. Not just reading an article and calling it a day, but actively researching something memorable. This doesn’t have to be a scholarly topic, it could be anything. When we start to desire to learn, which is practically the main thing about a growth mindset, it enforces those beliefs. 

BUILD RESILENCE. You’re going to fail, struggle, lose and maybe suffer. While it is important to grieve what happens, you should be able to bounce back after some time. Building this skill is so important in the growth mindset, as it helps you to take control of your emotions and not the other way around. 

This applies to constructive criticism as well. People will not always give you praise, but that doesn’t matter, what matters is your ability to act on that criticism. An outside perspective always helps to improve yourself and your abilities. 

[wileys-russo]

i need a pool day blurb with jenni after that bikini picture pretty pls bsf 💘 tysm

this is for @sunnyaelia who is constantlyy feeding my jenni obsession pool day II j.hermoso

finishing the final chapter of your book you near moaned with happiness, feeling as though you'd just scaled a mountain as immense gratification flooded your sun soaked bones.

with a content sigh you snapped it shut, patting the cover fondly and carefully tossing it onto the table a few feet away.

you'd been tackling said book for a far too long, and always having been an avid reader ever since childhood it had bugged you to no end that these days it took you months to finish a few chapters when you used to fly through a few books each week.

but life commitments seemed to stump that nowadays, though on vacation for the week it was the ideal opportunity to rectify that and only just two days in it made you feel immense relief that you'd conquered that.

you'd had your doubts of course, and they came in the form of the tall, tattooed clown you had the pleasure of calling your wife.

jenni was your favourite distraction but she was constantly just that, a distraction.

any sliver of free time you had away from family or work was consumed by her need for your every ounce of attention, and whatever you didn't give her she would simply take one way or another.

but your athlete superstar world cup winning striker was not as easily relaxed as you, and despite being on vacation together insisted on continuing her at times robotic rituals of exercise.

not that you could really complain given as much as you adored jenni as a person and a partner; her body, stamina and rippling physique was an immense benefit to all the perks that came with being mrs hermoso.

so your wife was off on her morning run, kissing you goodbye far too early for you to do much more than hum and roll onto your side as she chuckled and gently closed the bedroom door behind her with a click.

you'd arisen a couple hours later surprised that she still hadn't returned, but with the peace and quiet of her absence came the opportunity to finally finish your book and work on your tan, so here you were.

and it would seem right in the nick of time as you heard footsteps pad their way through the villa before her slides slapped against the concrete of the courtyard and suddenly your warmth dissapeared.

"you're blocking my sun hermoso." you warned with a small smile, eyes still closed but protected by a pair of sunglasses which were promptly snatched from your face.

"i am your sun, hermoso. just lighting up your days with my good looks and my muscles and my endearing personality." jenni quipped back with a grin as she settled her glasses on your nose and you cracked one eye up to stare up at her blankly.

you'd be lying if you said they didn't dip a little lower for a moment taking in her sweaty, toned and tanned half naked body before you which wasn't missed by your wife whose grin only grew at the sight.

"enjoying the view esposa? front row seats to la feria de armas." the gun show, the footballer smirked and flexed her arms obnoxiously with a few mock grunts as you rolled your eyes.

"can i get a refund?" you asked blankly, own smile curling upward as jenni's dropped and you closed your eyes again, kicking her gently and making a shooing motion with your hands.

"get out of my sun and take a shower, i can't tan in the shade amor." you chuckled and exhaled happily as she stepped aside and your face was once again bathed in the warm cancun sun.

"oh a shower? good idea, gracias bebé." her slightly chapped but still soft lips pressed sweetly against yours as she ducked down and slipped your stolen sunglasses back on your face before you smacked her ass with one hand as she passed, sending her a cheeky grin.

"niña traviesa." your wife clicked her tongue disapprovingly though you could see the corners of her mouth tug upward in amusement as she stripped off the singlet leaving her only in shorts and a sports bra, her well defined tattooed back disappearing into the villa.

you assumed that meant your peace and quiet resumed, how wrong you were.

"oh dios mio jennifer!" you groaned in annoyance as suddenly footsteps smacked against concrete and there was a brief pause of silence before a body met water with a loud splash and droplets rained down on you one after the other.

"sí precioso?" the girl popped up at the edge of the pool, tattooed arms crossed and her chin resting on them with a wicked grin as you glared down at her and wiped yourself off with a towel.

"idiota." you grumbled, tossing the now damp towel down on the ground and lying back down with a huff. "you suggested a shower no? i just wanted to share mi amor." again droplets rained down as her hand smacked at the water sending a small tidal wave across your legs.

knowing she was just egging on for a reaction you refused to give her one, only standing to turn your lounger around to face away from her before flopping back down on your stomach now which made her laugh, your wife pushing off the side of the pool and floating around humming something to herself as you settled yourself again.

but of course that too didn't last long.

"cari?" the striker called out, still floating on her back with her eyes closed, having changed into a brightly colored bikini which left very little to the eye or the imagination

you hummed in response, the noise muffled as you were still laying stomach down on the lounger a few feet away. "if you are in a competition with yourself, do you come first or last?" your wife asked as you only sighed, all too used to the strangely wonderful but weird way her brain worked.

"neither, no opponents means no winner or loser." you answered without moving a muscle, the older girl making a noise of surprise at your answer, quiet falling again as she took a moment to reflect on it.

"cari?" again you hummed in response, readying yourself for whatever was to come next. "can you daydream at night?"

"no mi amor, thats just thinking." you chuckled slightly at that one, jenni making another pleasantly surprised noise as again a beat of peace passed.

"cari?" a hum again. "if you clean a vacuum, do you become a vacuum cleaner?" you could hear the obvious grin in her tone at that as you snickered quietly. "no you'd actually become useful." you quipped as your wife scoffed in offence and kicked water at you, the few icy droplets which hit your back making you wince slightly.

"cari?" another hum. "if you drop soap on the floor, is the floor clean or is the soap dirty?"

"why?" you finally pulled your head up, sitting up at peering at her over the top of the lounger as she continued to float around the pool. "why not?" she rebutted, ducking under the water and doing a backflip beneath the surface as you rolled your eyes.

"show off." you shot at her, sunglasses slipping just down your nose as you watched jenni pull herself slowly out of the pool, sitting on the edge of with her legs still dangling in the water, wringing out her hair and stretching as she scraped it up into a bun atop her head.

your gaze found home on the way her soft tanned skin tensed and flexed with each movement, water drops cascading down her like she was stuck in a rain storm as she exhaled deeply and rolled her neck.

catching your eye she winked as you shook your head and laid back down as she stood and made her way over, disregarding the unoccupied lounger to your right and instead sitting on the edge of yours.

"so, is the floor clean or soap dirty mi todo?" you flinched ever so slightly as a cold finger traced down your spin, a smile forming on your lips which faced away from your wife who was writing out i love you on your back.

"both, the floor becomes clean where the soap hits it but the soap becomes dirty as it touches the floor." you answered simply as she hummed, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "smart and beautiful." the girl complimented, twisting around and trailing kisses down your shoulder blame as you sighed happily.

"i knew you married me for my mind." you teased. "no, for this." jenni grinned, one hand cupping a handful of flesh on your ass and squeezing before patting it affectionately as you reached out and pinched her thigh making her chuckle.

"again, idiota." you shook your head resisting the urge to smile, knocking her with your knee a little as you wriggled and flipped onto your back again, sighing as your glasses were once more snatched off your face.

"there is another chair there." you reminded as your wife scooched you across with her hands and laid down beside you, both of you near hanging off either side of the small lounger as her wet torso pressed against yours, though as the sun rose higher in the sky and the temperature soared upward the slight reprise now wasn't unwelcome.

"very observant mi vida, bien!" jenni grinned as your eyes opened and winced slightly from the sunlight hitting them, your wife quickly sliding your glasses back over them with a kiss pressed to your cheek.

"jenni i am going to fall off!" you laid in silence pressed against one another for a few minutes before she grew restless, sitting up and moving about nearly shoving you off.

but as you opened your eyes to tell her off further your words died in your throat, mouth running dry as the footballer tossing her soaking wet bikini top over her shoulder and smirked at the way your eyes clearly fixed to her now naked chest though disguised behind the glasses.

her breasts sat to attention, perfectly round and staring you right in the face as your wifes look of utter delight and amusement only grew.

"oh you wanted more space bebita? of course." you barely had time to process her words before her leg was swinging over your hips and she settled herself on top of you, shaking her head as her chest bounced and droplets rained down on you ironically only causing your mouth to dry up further.

but as you reached out eager to touch them her hands caught yours, interlocking her slender fingers with yours and pinning them down to the lounger as she leaned down, the feeling of her wet naked chest pressing against yours nearly having you moan.

"can't have you moving around too much ángel, you might fall off." her pearly white teeth bore down at you in a wolfish grin, sloped nose tucking into the crook of your neck as your eyes fluttered close at the special attention she gave the taunt skin there.

you felt her grin widen as your hips bucked ever so slightly up against hers as she suddenly bit down on the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw, sucking on the tanned flesh until it had turned dark red and sent your head spinning.

"mi niña bonita." jenni purred, kissing softly over the mark and trailing her lips across your jaw before finally pressing them against yours, a slight grind of her hips down into yours causing your breath to hitch with a gasp and her tongue to slip past your defenses, easily taking control of the kiss.

you barely had time to enjoy it before suddenly she was using her strength to easily pull you up and swap your positions, sliding beneath you as you now sat on top of her catching your breath momentarily.

unrestrained now you wasted no time gliding your hands across the firm ridges of her abs, bending down to press feather light kisses across her collarbone, tongue darting out to flick across the H tattoo on her sternum as she exhaled and tangled a hand in your hair, tugging your head up and into her neck.

"niña buena." the striker sighed as your hands finally found her chest and squeezing right as your lips sucked your own mark into her neck, normally not something your wife so easily allowed but too distracted by your hands kneading away at her chest to stop you.

but right as sudden as everything had started, in true hermoso fashion it was just as quick to stop, your hands grabbing onto her shoulders with a cry of surprise as suddenly she stood and hauled you up with her, legs wrapped around your waist.

"jenni no no no por favor amor i washed my hair last night!" you begged and tried to get down as you quickly realised what was happening.

but all you got in reply was a grin as you held your breath and your wife launched the two of you off the edge, icy water engulfing your body as her long tattooed legs hit the bottom and pushed off, the pair of you resurfacing as you coughed and spluttered slightly in shock.

"you looked hot cari, just wanted to cool you down." the brunette teased still holding tightly onto you as you smacked her forehead with a huff.

"estúpido idiota!" you hit her shoulder as she only laughed, pushing over to a more shallow spot where she could stand a little taller, hands squeezing at your ass in a silent attempt at an apology.

"pero tu estúpido idiota." jenni cooed with a smile that was softer, kissing your lips slowly and sweetly as your anger melted away, really unable to stay mad at the endearingly dopey grin on her face as she pushed a wet strand of hair out of your face with a lovesick glint in her eyes.

"well lo siento mucho but you are stuck with me forever and ever and ever now mrs hermoso."

[vagabond-umlaut]

Your Sukuna fic recs? pretty please? 🥺🥺

ofc nonnie! i nvr ever turn down an opportunity for showing (few of) my fave authors their much well-deserved love, respect & attention! 😊😊🫶🫶

ryomen sukuna x reader fic recs (I)

‣ this is merely a list of works i've enjoyed reading. kindly heed the tags and warnings in each of them and consume content responsibly, at your own discretion. ‣ that being said, i own neither these fics nor the characters. enjoy reading! 🥰

⇌ Conquest (SukunaXReader) (series) by JellyBelly531 on ao3 [I can't say anything on this series here, except, to request you to read this— provided you're fine with the tags and warnings the author has given. This is an absolute delight for those who love Trueform!Sukuna set in a canon-y historical backdrop. A 200% masterpiece, I'm tellin' ya! :))]

⇌ Sukuna with reader whos just dumb (hcs) by @poe-daydreams on tumblr [Humor, Fluff, Humor, Fluff, Humor— Comedy at its finest :D]

⇌ rhymes (oneshot) by @tender-rosiey on tumblr [Tooth-rotting fluff ft. Dad!Sukuna and his adorably menacing attitude xDD]

⇌ Tribe leader/Viking Sukuna (hcs) by @yuujispinkhair on tumblr [Terrifying 'Kuna + Charming 'Kuna + Protective 'Kuna + Soft 'Kuna + Husband 'Kuna + Dad 'Kuna— what more do you need, hmmm? ^_^]

⇌ Black Magic (twoshot) by sukirichi on ao3 [Arranged Marriage with Enemies-to-Lovers dynamics and Scary™️ Househusband 'Kuna— an ALL TIME FAVOURITE FIC of mine, for sure ^_^]

⇌ Little Monster (oneshot belonging to a series) by @lemonlover1110 on tumblr [A sweet combination of the tropes: Dad!Sukuna & Sukuna being Sukuna. I really love the way 'Kuna is in-character in this fic :))]

⇌ to satiate, seduce, and to sin. (oneshot) by @poe-daydreams on tumblr [For the twisted-yet-loving!Sukuna fuckers lovers like me ;)]

⇌ To the end (7 chapters) by @yuujispinkhair on tumblr [One Of THE very best Zombie Apocalypse AUs I've ever read. Please keep tissues close to you for the sad tears, then the happy tears. I ugly-cried while reading this, no kidding :))]

⇌ 7/11 (oneshot) by astreaborn on ao3 [Perfect way to lift your spirits, if you're ever feeling down. The characterizations are so well written... Just go read it, please. You will not regret it— I'm 10^10 times sure of this!! :))]

⇌ "make me (yours)." (oneshot) by @ancient-vivarium on tumblr [Age gap romance with rich older bf!Sukuna, ft. slow burn, fluff and SPICE— this is what one should call GIRL BREAKFAST, LUNCH & DINNER! ;DD]

[chachued]

I wanted to request lando x fem reader if possible when he’s leaving for a while and they’re extra affectionate the night before with longer hugs and more reassurance, it could even get emotional??

Thank you in advance🥰

omg, yes. absolutely adorable!!! such a cute idea, this is.

━━ NEVER LEAVING | LANDO NORRIS ⁴

He never left without you, but you couldn’t come with him this time. It wasn’t easy, to say the least, but this night made it all the better.

↳ lando norris x fem!reader

W/C 0.5k

CONTENTS fluff — so much fluff, best bf lando, clingy reader, a bit of attachment issues, half proofread, short imagine

TOMORROW WAS THE DAY. Even though you begged for a day off—just to spend time with your boyfriend—today was too far busy, said your boss.

It was already late at night, so you expected Lando to be asleep already. He had to leave tomorrow morning, so you let bygones be bygones.

You didn’t know work would last so long, there’s barely enough time to be with him. And most of it will be used sleeping beside him. Everything consumed the energy that usually sparked inside you — The one that was excited to go home to him.

The key was deep inside your bag while you shuffled for it, prolonging the wait outside your door, which was insufferable. All you wanted to do was lay in bed—preferably with his arms around you.

The door handle clicked, and then it opened. “You’re home!”

“You’re still awake?” You were relieved, but rightfully worried because it is twelve in the morning.

His hand took yours, dragging you inside. “Of course, I am.”

“What’s that — And that smell?”

“Well, that is your favourite movie, with your favourite food, and your favourite snacks, actually.”

Wow. He really did it all for you.

There were candles that were already half-melted, probably the ones that were hiding in an obscure area. The line of expensive meals and cheap takeout showed a variety of food. It’s like he knew you hadn't eaten yet.

Lando couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit your face, highlighting that pretty smile of yours—melting him from the inside. “There’s also a bunch of blankets to get you comfy. I’m sure you would’ve been tired when you got home.”

“I love you so much right now.”

“You didn’t love me before?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling.

“I love you too.”

Anxiety piled up — That overwhelming feeling.

It finally hits you he’d be leaving tomorrow morning. All this effort and it didn’t even last long because, before you knew it, he’d be gone. It hurt, and you didn’t know why.

It wasn’t the fact that he was leaving. It’s because he motivated you throughout the day, promising kisses and goods—giving a reason to be excited about life. What could you do without him?

Lando was cuddled up next to you, lying on your chest, when he heard your sniffling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I’m here,” he said, and in all honesty, it made the tears harder to hold in.

But you stayed strong.

“It’s just… You’re leaving, and all that. I don’t know, I feel a bit silly.”

He held you tighter, not planning to ever let you go. His eyes were heavy, but he’d stay up all night to be with you.

No amount of sleep can replace you, he thought.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” His hand slithered onto your cheek, wiping the loose tear. “I’m never ever leaving you.”

That was the promise he’d never dare to break.

It was insane. You felt insane. He was doing all this for you, and you felt like a burden. There was nothing you did to deserve this—

You felt his soft lips on yours—holding on for a second—and the warm embrace melted you in quick.

“Text me and I’ll fly back to you, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Alright?”

A giggle slipped out of your mouth. “Alright, yeah.”

This was home — Your home.

And it would never fall apart, not with him.

↳ bonus ; next morning ´ˎ˗

LOADING . . . ✎

all rights reserved © CHACHUED ━━ do not translate, copy, or claim my works as your own.

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Nail your School Essays

                Not to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal when it comes to essays at my school. Since I started highschool I haven’t received a grade less than 90% on an essay—so I’m here to share my secret. This works for the classic essay, but you can also use the same advice and fit it to formal reports or other academic writing.

1. Your essay is about 2 things, demonstrated 3 or more times

This is how I’ve always thought about essays. They’re about two ideas, demonstrated as many times as you need to fill the wordcount. Shakespeare + Feminism, Media + Truth versus Misconception, etc. etc. If you’re lucky, your teacher or prof will give you one of your elements. You’ll get assignments like, “write an essay about Hamlet” or “write an essay about the American dream” lucky you, that’s your first thing—now you need to connect it with another.

This connecting idea is my favourite part because you just get to choose a concept or idea you’re interested in. Here’s a tip, if your first/given topic is something concrete, choose an abstract connecting idea. If your given topic is something abstract, choose a concrete.

So, Hamlet (concrete) could be paired with any abstract concept: Loyalty, Truth, Feminism, etc.

However, if your prof gives you something like, “truth” or “race theory”, you’ll find it much easier to connect that with a more concrete thing, like a book, movie, or other piece of media, or even a specific person.

If you are luckiest, your prof will give you both things, “write about the American Dream in The Great Gatsby” in this case, you’re onto the next stage.

2. Stick to the formula

Tried, tested, true. Nothing wrong with a formula, especially not when it gives you A+ grades. Typical essay structure is:

Intro with thesis

2. 1st Body

2a. Evidence that proves it 1

2i. Justify its relevance

2b. Evidence that proves it 2

2ii. Justify its relevance

Etc.

3. 2nd Body

3a. Evidence that proves it

3i.Justification

Etc.

4. 3rd Body

4a. Rise and repeat, you know where this is going.

5. Some may argue…

6. Conclusion

Let’s break it down.

Thesis:

                Thesis completely outlines all your points, or the three+ places you’re demonstrating your connection, and why it matters.

                Here is an intro + thesis I wrote a couple years ago:

“This literature review will explore the impacts influencer marketing has on the children that regularly consume social media content. Specifically, this review will focus on how influencers can impact children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, and lastly, the influx of children taking advantage of this system and becoming influencers themselves.”

Or

“Burned discusses the human aspect of sex work and reverses reader’s expectations on sex workers, while Not in My Neighbourhood discusses prostitutes as victims of a system created against them. Both challenge readers’ perceptions of sex workers, effectively drawing attention to the ethics of displacing sex workers from their cities.”

                So you have your connection (children and social media)/(Burned and Not in My Neighbourhood and sex work), and the different ways you plan on exploring or proving that idea (children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, children becoming influencers.) etc.

                You may also have a more specific stance in your thesis. Such as, “In Macbeth, ambition is shown to be Macbeth’s ultimate downfall in these three ways.”

The Body Paragraphs

                You start out every body paragraph with the point of the paragraph, or what it’s aiming to prove. Such as, “Influencers often include advertisements within their content, which can encourage children to feel more amiably to certain brands their favourite content creators endorse frequently more than others.”

                After this claim, you spend the rest of the paragraph further proving it through examples. This will look like citing a specific source (a book, academic journal, quote, etc.) such as, “The authors claim likeable influencers can associate their likeability with the products they use, influencing children’s perception of brands, referred to as ‘meaning transfer’ (De Veirman et al. 2019)” (super important to always cite these sources!)

                The last part is after each example/proof--you need to justify why this proves your point/is important. So, “This proves children are more influenced towards certain products depending on how close of a relationship they perceive to have with the influencer.”

                Typically, your evidence will all lead into each other so you can transition to the next piece of proof, then the justification, rinse and repeat until you’re finished your paragraph. You can have as many pieces of evidence as you want per paragraph, and the longer your word requirement, the more you’ll want to fit into each point (or the more bodies you want to have.)

                Piece of evidence + why it matters, rinse and repeat.

Some May Argue:

                This is a small paragraph just before your conclusion where you anticipate an argument your readers may have, and disprove it. So, for example, you’d start with, “Some may argue that with parent supervision, the impacts of influencers on children could be lessened or moot. However…” and then explain why they’re wrong. This strengthens your argument, and proves that you’ve really thought out your stance.

Conclusion:

                Lastly, you want to sum up all the conclusions you came to in a few sentences. Your last line is one of the most important (in my opinion). I call it the mic drop moment. Leaving a lasting impact on your reader can bring your essay from an A to an A+, so you really want to nail this final sentence.

                My final sentence was, “Ultimately, it is hard to know in advance how technology and social media will impact the development of children who have always grown up with some form of screen, but until they grow up, parents and caregivers need to take care in the content their children consume, and their very possible exploitation online.”

This sentence is backed by the entirety of the essay that came before it, and usually leaves a little something to chew on for the readers.

Any other tips I missed?

[vilhelios]

—; DROWNED IN LIVING WATERS.

( your guiding hand pulls me under. ) ; there is no such thing as less, when it comes to rafayel: always more. at least when it comes to you, of course.

CW: fluff ; slightly suggestive content ; mentions of abysswalker!rafayel my beloved ; just lots of kissing bc rafayel is big and greedy!!!

no matter what it is, rafayel always wants more. more conch shells to crush to attain a singular gram of lustrous pink-white paint. more plates of seafood platters when you both go out to your favourite beachside restaurant. more time with you when you’re away from your rightful place by his side, wrapped up in nothing but the scent of seasalt and paint and each other’s arms.

“what happened to just one more…?” you pant, nails digging slightly into the bare skin of rafayel’s shoulders—they’ll be his battle scars for the night, red crescent moons borne of greed. one kiss had turned to two, and two to three, and—well, now the two of you are breathless, bodies flushed warm and lips kiss-bitten on his couch. your eyes zero in on his, and you drink in the sight of his darkened eyes—the blue depths you want to be baptised in, the red desire that will burn your very soul. everything fades away; the sound of the waves breaking upon the shore, the seagulls cawing, the moonlight filtering in through his grand, arching windows. there is only him.

( lord, there is no saving you now—only in him will you find salvation ever again. )

“you know it’s never just one.” rafayel chuckles, the soft breath of it fanning across your skin as he presses his forehead against yours. he looks beautiful, ruined like this—lips a darker red from how you bit at them, his cheeks and the tips of his ears painted the prettiest shade of red, his bathrobe almost slipping off his shoulders. rafayel’s hand falls from where it was at the back of your head, down to cup your cheek. his thumb gently brushes against your lower lip, as he murmurs, with a growing smile, “i need more, cutie. always more—” 

he doesn’t even let that final word hang in the air before he presses his lips to yours once more, melding together in a sweet desperation. 

more, more, more. more of your touch, more of your lips on his, more of your very presence. how could he ever want any less than all of you after going an eternity without? he won’t deny it—he’s a selfish, greedy man, and the only thing he ever wants to hoard is you. rafayel’s kisses, often, are sweet and chaste—like the softest flutter of a butterfly’s wings that have you chasing after more. and yet, there are times like this, where he seems intent on consuming you, a hunger unrivalled as his lips move skillfully against yours. it’s as though if he had anything less than all of you it would be his undoing. 

( the thing about stray dogs, you suppose, is that they will hoard the food and affection they are given. after all, who knows how long until it is ripped away from their maws again? he can’t survive another hundred years without you, with nothing but memories of those no-longer-lonely nights in lemuria, and desperate visions of what could have been. it would be too cruel an existence for a starving, stray dog. )

when you pull away (and even then, he chases after your lips), you feel absolutely winded. your hands clutch uselessly at the dark satin of his bathrobe to ground yourself. even as you try to steady your breathing, your senses are assailed by his very being—every gulp of air is laced with the scent of seasalt, citrus, and sandalwood. he occupies your every thought, now. (maybe it has always been that way, since a time long lost.)

“i thought you said… you were hungry…” you manage between shaky breaths. right, right; you two wanted to get dinner and then spend the rest of the night lounging around, but well, that was an hour ago. the sun was setting when rafayel first pulled you onto his lap and pressed the smallest of kisses to every inch of skin he could reach… but it’s dark now, and those kisses have long since devolved to blooming hickeys when he shifts his focus away from your lips…

“nuh-uh. not anymore.” he quickly quips back and, almost like he was afraid you’d try to slip away from his hold, pulls you closer with the arm he has around your waist. if you were close before, then you melted into one entity now, with his chest flush against yours. you think your racing heartbeats are beating in sync, beneath the flimsy material of your nightgown and his bathrobe. 

a desperate whine leaves him as he tries to chase after your lips, only managing to press a peck to the corner of them. (that’s not enough, never enough—) “don’t wanna eat. just want you, please–” and again, he somehow manages to pull you closer, close enough to get what he wants once more. and of course, you happily relent, melting against him as he kisses you again, and again, and again.

...

( and somewhere, in the far off future, amongst the golden sands, nothing has changed. ra’el is foolish to think he ever would. no, he is still weak to those lips that first kissed his aeons ago. what was first an act borne of your desperation and will to live against the drowning waters turned into the fuel to his hunger and a basic, primal need.  

“i’m not leaving you yet, your highness.” he murmurs, and it feels something like a promise as he presses a gentler peck to your cheek. it does take all his restraint to give you some respite from his barrage of kisses, however, as he watches you heave for breath. his eyes can’t help but dart all over, as he feels you clutch at the leather of his garb, but they always return to your kiss-bitten lips and hazy eyes.

he smiles, a cheeky thing, a practised swipe of his thumb against your bottom lip. “surely your highness would not call me with the fishtail beacon just for a bedtime story, hm?” 

and the hungry, stray dog, found once more by its rightful owner, begins to hoard its meal. )

a/n: inspired by horny posting with my pookie wookies on lndtwt 🫶💕 ty lisa my beloved for this mental image that you've conjured. also, i guess this is the fic to celebrate getting lvl 100 affection with rafayel!

creative notes: rafayel is very much so a dog-like character to me and less cat-like; especially abysswalker! i heard somewhere that stray animals will hoard food and ask for food more (and if you feed a stray animal on the road it will follow you) and rafayel himself does compare himself to a stray animal/animal in need of help in nightly stroll, i think? so uh. that's why i have a lot of dog-like comparisons for him 🫡💕

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

A Day To Remember

Jasper Hale x Fem!Reader [989+ Words]

Summary: Jasper takes his human mate back to his home state, Texas, for some time away from their families.

Disclaimer: Please do not repost my work to other sites or claim as your own, this is purely written from my imagination and from the help of the franchise. All rights of the main storyline goes to the writers and producers of Twilight.

WARNINGS: FLUFF // JASPER BEING A GENTLEMAN // USE OF Y/N // UNEDITED

Jasper hadn't been back to Texas in almost 200 years, not after everything that had happened. Not after what he had done. But it seemed he couldn't deny the request of his mate when she asked to see the state where he grew up, where he became the man she valued and loved. So he did just that.

Jasper had planned everything secretly, with the help of his sister Alice of course. Packing up the car with all the essential things Y/n might need before getting in the car and driving all the way across town to pick her up.

Driving cross-country wasn't the best thing in the world but Jasper was thankful he didn't need to sleep or eat, otherwise the journey would've taken longer. As Y/n slept peacefully in the passenger seat, Jasper held her hand ever so delicately, tracing soft patterns into her knuckles. To say he loved her would be an understatement, he was infatuated with her. The way her lips parted ever so slightly as she breathed, how her eyes would flutter every so often, the soft rosy pink tint across her cheeks. Jasper felt things for her on a whole other level, it was like he was consumed by her.

By the time they made it to the hotel Alice had booked for the pair, it was midday. The sun hiding away behind thick, grey clouds as rain pitter pattered against the windshield. Jasper gently shook Y/n, careful not to startle her. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times until her vision was no longer blurry. Looking up at Jasper, a small smile tugged at her lips almost instantly. She leaned over the centre console, pecking the blonde vampires lips ever so softly. Jasper let out a quiet hum of content, his hand trailing along the underside of her jaw as he pulled her closer, savouring the taste and feel of her lips before pulling away.

Jasper, being the gentleman he is, got out the car first, holding up his forefinger to Y/n as if telling her to stay there as he rounded the car and opened her door, holding out his hand for her to take. Y/n slipped her hand into Jasper's, slowly getting out the passenger side of the car as Jasper shut the door behind her. His arm wrapping around her waist as he lead her inside the hotel lobby. As they got their room situated, the bellhop took their luggage to bring it up for them, though Jasper insisted he could do it.

The following day, Jasper and Y/n headed out for a little sightseeing trip around Texas, starting in Houston. Jasper took Y/n out for breakfast, telling her all the stories about when he was a young lad running around this specific part of the city. After breakfast, they had gotten back into the car, driving all the way down to Orange County. Y/n was unbeknownst to anything Jasper had planned, the young girl just going along with everything he said or did.

After an hour or so, the car stopped outside Shangri La. A botanical garden and nature centre. The weather hadn't cleared up, still the same gloomy sky as yesterday but Y/n didn't mind, it meant less people being around and Jasper wouldn't get found out for being a vampire.

The pair walked throughout the gardens hand in hand, Y/n pointing out the array of flowers growing all around. Jasper just smiled, watching her ramble on about her favourite flowers with a smitten look on his face. God he loved her, how did he get so lucky. The blonde vampire had lead his mate to a more secluded area, the pond of the blue moon, sitting down on the wooden platform as they looked out at the deep blue water around them.

"It's beautiful.." Y/n breathed out, her voice soft as she spoke. Jasper hummed in return, his topaz eyes glued to her face. "It sure is." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. Jasper gently cupped the side of her face, turning it so she could look at him. His thumb rubbing small circles into the skin of her cheek.

"I want to ask you something, something I've been dying to ask you from the moment I met you.." Y/n looked at Jasper in confusion, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side before she nodded her head, urging her mate to speak. Jasper let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, not like he had lungs that even worked, before he grabbed her hand and held it lightly in his own.

"I have loved you from the moment we met, I knew you were the one I wanted from the very first time I felt every ounce of your emotions swarm my head like a plague. You accepted every part of me, being a vampire, playing a part in a war that took thousands of lives.. you loved me even when I didn't believe I could be loved. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, whether you want to grow old or you would prefer to go through the change, I want to be there for it all. What I'm trying to say is.. will you marry me?"

Silence. Pure silence. Before Y/n threw her arms around Jasper's shoulders as she squealed in happiness. He could feel the joy radiating off her. The raw, unfiltered euphoria coursing through her like a wildfire. Her soft rants of "yes, one thousand times yes" falling from her lips as she hugged the vampire closer, clinging to him like a lifeline. Never in a hundred years has Jasper felt this content, this at peace within himself and it was all down to the girl wrapped tightly within his arms, like armour protecting her from anything and everything.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Happy Birthday

Just a really self-indulgent fic for my bday. And yes I am going to spend my entire birthday on bg3 trying to romance this fictional vampire.

Summary: Astarion struggles to come up with a gift for you birthday.

Astarion knew your birthday was coming up, but he didn’t know what to get you. What did you want that you already didn’t have? You already seemed rather content with whatever you had, and you barely glanced at trinkets in the markets, content with whatever loot you found during the journey. He was at quite the loss for in the romance books he had read, flowers, jewellery, perfume had been the typical gifts given and yet you had never quite been inclined towards such things.

“Astarion? Is something wrong?”

He blinks, startled and realises that you’re standing right in front of him.

“Oh, it’s nothing darling, don’t you worry,” he smiles, gently cupping your cheek. He presses a kiss to your forehead, thumb gliding over your skin. You frown but don’t press the matter further. If he was comfortable with telling you about it, he would share it with you. You weren’t going to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to tell you what was on his mind.

“Just…know that you can tell me anything, alright?” You ask worriedly, giving his hand a squeeze. He nods, lifting your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You smile, pulling him in for a hug and he nuzzles you in return, happy about the small act of love.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” you lean in for a kiss on the lips before quickly pulling away to head off with Wyll to scout the area ahead. He watches you go, an imprint of your warmth lingering on his skin and heads back inside his tent, trying to ignore the way his undead heart pounds against his chest, words stuck in his throat.

He spends the next few days wracking his brain on what to get you for your birthday while taking out his frustrations on the poor goblins the party encountered along the way until one day, he found something that had caught your attention. Of all things, it had to be some mediocre cloak.

“What’s so interesting about that…thing?” Astarion frowns. “I could purchase a cloak made with far better quality elsewhere.”

“But it’s handmade! It’s a product of someone’s hard work, time, effort and heart! How could you not appreciate it!” You huff, handing over the gold to the grateful merchant and hug the cloak close to your chest, smiling brightly. Astarion rolls his eyes and pulls you along before you can spend more gold on ‘mediocre items’, but this encounter has given him an idea of what to gift you for your birthday.

The moment the two of you reach camp, he slips into his tent and sneaks out the sewing kit he has stashed away in the deepest depths. A number of items he can sew for you run through his mind, but the one thing that nags away at his mind is a scarf. It has not escaped his notice how you often shiver on chilly nights, brushing it off whenever Karlach confronts you about it. He never misses how you jump whenever he touches your bare skin on such nights before giving him a reassuring smile and leaning into the touch despite the chill.

So he begins sewing a scarf, weaving it together with fabrics of your favourite colours whenever the party decides to set up camp for the night.

You raise an eyebrow when Astarion hastily disappears into his tent without even saying a word to you for the third night in a row, wondering what is going on. The first two nights you let the issue slide, thinking that he just needed some space to process whatever was going on in his head, but this was the third night and it was getting worrying.

Making your way to his tent, you pause outside the flap, wondering if by doing this you’re intruding on his privacy but decide you’d rather risk getting yelled at for sticking your nose into his business than let his potentially dark thoughts consume him.

“Astarion? I’m coming in!” You call before lifting up the tent flap, hearing a small commotion as you step in but are only greeted with the sight of Astarion holding a book, sitting on his bedroll with a smile.

“Hello, dearest.” He’s sitting rather stiffly for someone who ‘has been reading for the past however long’, stirring suspicion within you but you pretend that you haven’t noticed anything, hoping that you can coax whatever it was out of him.

“You haven’t been feeding lately.” You start off with a simple comment to lower his guard.

“There are plenty of bears around these woods, darling, don’t you worry.”

“I thought you said bear blood isn’t as tasty as mine?”

“You have been rather busy as of late, darling. I didn’t want to tire you further.”

“You’re the one who has been rather busy as of late, disappearing into your tent immediately after we set up camp.” You point out, arms folded across your chest. “Is there something that’s bothering you?”

“No?” He blinks, “I’ve just been rather engrossed in this book as of late.”

“So engrossed that you can’t even set aside some time to spend with me?”

Oh. He screwed up.

“I didn’t mean to —”

“Am I really less interesting than a book?”

“Of course not!” Astarion shifts anxiously. Was he going to lose whatever was going on between the both of you? He hadn’t thought about how his fixation on getting that scarf sewn on time for your birthday would affect you, the message his actions would send you, and how…all he wanted was to make you happy.

Your gaze softens and you apologise for being so harsh with him, which he automatically brushes off with a fake smile and a laugh, saying that it was alright but you could tell you had set something off in the deep recesses of his mind.

“Astarion.” You say gently.

“Yes darling?”

“Please tell me if I’ve hurt you. I never intend to, but I need to know if I have so that I won’t repeat it again,” you plead, worry gnawing at your insides. What if his guard was back up, leaving him alone with his own mind that tore him apart? What if he was pushing you away, you couldn’t imagine a life without him in every facet of it. What if he had grown tired of you, or worse, afraid of you? You didn’t want to lose the bond so painstakingly forged and greatly cherished, the very thought that he would leave scared you far more than anything in the world.

“It’s not that!” He quickly stands to his feet, swiftly closing the distance and wraps his arms around you tightly. “It’s…nothing, I promise. Don’t leave me.”

He whispers the last part but you catch it anyways. Burying your face into his chest, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in his scent.

“I won’t ever leave you, you’re my star, I’m lost without you.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second and a wide smile graces his face, a smile you cannot see and he doesn’t want you to see. A giddy feeling bubbles within his chest, he had never thought he would ever find anyone who would love him, and yet here he was, standing in the arms of someone who considered him their everything.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the half-sewn scarf left forgotten. He would much rather spend the rest of the night with you, in your embrace and so he does, happily purring away when you massage his scalp and pressing as many kisses as he possibly can to your face.

Your worries are washed away when you see him relax like this, slipping into a trance whilst he’s curled up against you. Maybe you were worried about nothing after all. You run your fingers through his soft silvery curls, humming a lullaby you remember from your childhood as you feel sleep claim you and you drift off soon after, burning the image of a trancing Astarion into your mind.

You and Astarion fall into a routine in the following days where he would spend the first half of the night alone in his tent, doing whatever secret private thing he was doing and then he would move over to your tent for the remainder of the night, spending it either cuddling or reading with you. It was an agreement the both of you were satisfied with, and the whole party was relieved that the tension had faded. Bit by bit Astarion inched closer towards a finished scarf, and the night before your birthday, he finally had the complete product.

“Finally!” He groaned, collapsing onto his bedroll. It wasn’t the best scarf he’d ever seen, but it was decent enough, at least for his standards. Then the doubt started creeping in. Would you like it? Would you wear it? What if all the effort he had put into making the scarf was for naught? But then he remembers how until now, you’ve been wearing that mediocre cloak you had bought because it was handmade and it reassures him a little. He wouldn’t know how you felt about his scarf until he gifted it to you.

When the sun rose on your big day, Astarion waited until the others had said their well wishes and given you their gifts before approaching you.

“Y/N.” He says.

“Yes, Star?” You tilt your head in confusion. He rarely called you by your name, and when he did it was usually a serious matter.

“Happy birthday,” he says quickly, embarrassed as he thrusts a neatly wrapped package into your arms.

You beam, eagerly tearing it open and gasp when you see what lies inside.

“A scarf! I’ve been meaning to get one!” You cheer. “Thank you, Star! Really!”

His heart warms at your words, his lips curling up slightly as he watches you struggle to put it on.

“Would you like some help with that, my love?” He reaches over anyways, untangling you from the fabric and expertly wraps it around your neck before finishing it with a peck to your fore head. “There, done.”

You happily twirl around, playing with the ends of your scarf and giggle, throwing yourself at the vampire.

“Thank you so much!”

“Anytime, love.”

“Where did you buy this from?” You ask, happily burying your face into the soft fabric.

“I…I made it myself,” he mumbles, twiddling his fingers.

“You did? It must have taken so long to make this! That makes it even more precious!” You hug him tightly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he kisses the top of your head, all worry long washed away.

“Of couse I do. Anything you give me, I like it.” You grin up at him. “Now, can we spend the rest of the day together?”

“I would like nothing more, my love.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Congrats Lou!!! I really love your works, maybe 22 w/ Clark Kent???

.⋆｡Distractible｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

You’re a damn good distraction

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, kissing, teasing, implied smut

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k follower celebration

That damn dimple, it was fucking taunting you. The simple divot in Clark’s prominent chin that was just big enough for you to fit the side of your thumb into like it was made to do that. Sometimes it was covered by thick dark hair when he had gone a couple days without shaving and then your man would re-emerge from the bathroom and the dimple would return along with baby soft cheeks. 

And when Clark was generous enough to let you sit in his lap while he worked from his home office, the temptation was almost too much. It was his fault really, he should’ve known better to not be so absolutely delicious. His jaw flexed and shifted, keeping your hungry eyes trained on that stupid dimple. His broad chest rumbled with his words as he spoke on the phone so some colleague whose name you didn’t care to recall at this moment.

Suddenly, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Your lips pressed softly to the small sliver of skin along his collarbone that his t-shirt didn’t cover. Clark’s large hand rested on your plush thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. The next kiss was at the base of his throat, you loved the way you could feel his pulse beat against your tongue as you lapped at him.

You winced when his grip got a little too tight but you didn’t let that deter you from your mission. Your teeth grazed his Adam's apple and you smirked as it bobbed. Clark cleared his throat and apologised to whoever he was on the phone with. 

You nosed at his jaw, practically purring with happiness. You ran your hand up his front, revealing the firmness of his body against your palm. Then finally, your lips reached that perfect little dent in his chin and you were content.

You bit and kissed and sucked fully knowing that you would be unable to leave a mark on his flawless skin. You ignored the way your boyfriend attempted to subtly pry you away from him without alerting the person on the other end of the phone that something entirely not work appropriate was occurring. Yet you continued your little escapade, taking a kind of sick pleasure from teasing him like how he would do to you when you were trying to work.

Clark shifted in his office chair and it was easy to figure out why. The hard bulge in his sweatpants was now nestled perfectly between your legs and if you were to just move one more inch, he would be pressed against your panty-clad pussy. He shot you a warning glance but the way that his pupils were slowly consuming the blues of his eyes gave you all the motivation you needed to continue. 

“Hang up.” You muttered into his skin as you pressed your chest to his, letting him get a clear view of the way your tits squished into his pecs. Clark groaned silently, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to retain some semblance of control.

His hand darted from your thigh to your jaw, forcibly pulling your lips from his skin and moved his phone away from his ear. “Stop kissing me for a minute, I’m trying to have a conversation. I promise I’ll take care of you in a minute, I just need to get this done.” You stuck your bottom lip out at him as best you could with your cheeks squished together by his massive hand.

“Take me to bed now and I’ll do that thing with my tongue.” 

“Sorry, I have to call you back later. Something just came up.” Clark had barely hung up the phone and tossed it onto the desk before you found yourself over his shoulder as he practically ran from the room, his booming footsteps making you giggle against his back. “You and your damn kisses.” He mock whined. You retaliated by landing quite a firm smack to his perky backside.

“Not my fault you’re so distractible.” His warning growl told you that you would be eating your words soon enough.

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