#how many times have i listened to this? yes. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamisols · 2 days

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ COFFEE TALK

INTRODUCTION FIC TO 'THE ART OF REMEMBRANCE'

—the rare moments of free time allow you and your boyfriend to talk about anything and everything that comes to mind... at this point, you two might as well be the third division's free podcast! —wc: 1050; fluff but mostly crack —original canon, x fem!reader, you and hoshina are just silly, hibino leno and kikoru mentions, one cuss, general pov more or less, i advocate for silly unhinged dynamics —rimi's ramble: told myself not to rush the series but i wrote this in one sitting... my summer's gonna be spent writing about this man, buckle up folks! >:]

The Third Division considers you and Hoshina as their power couple.

Charming looks paired with commanding auras, levels of strength that no one would dare go against, all topped off with endearing one-of-a-kind personalities. Two puzzle pieces that fit as if they’re made for each other. It probably would’ve been more surprising if you two hated each other’s guts than to see you two end up together.

Everyone within the division quickly accepted and supported your relationship with the Vice Captain. And with that support comes your status as the “local loveteam”, which became both an inside joke and a makeshift badge of honor (if one could even call it that).

Though in their defense, there isn't even any sort of competition to begin with seeing as you two are the only couple within the division.

Every member, no matter how long they’ve been in the Defense Force, holds high respect towards both of you. They trust you with a lot of things—the wisdom you both give to your members is actually useful, and your attack combos on the field are nothing to scoff at.

Yes, they would trust you two with their lives, and yes, the way they’d say it might blur the lines of comedy and seriousness. There’s simply one thing that’s holding everyone off…

No one trusts the both of you with coffee.

Ironic, considering it’s one of Vice Captain Hoshina’s favorite things.

It’s somewhat of an inside joke that whenever a member enters the lounge room and they’re greeted by the rich inviting scent of brewed coffee, they will be tuning in to some sort of a podcast episode hosted by their one and only dynamic duo.

No one session is the same. Sometimes you two end up talking about some story you happened to have read or a personal experience that quickly becomes a storytime. Other days, it’s just opening as many controversial topics as you both can while expressing your opinions in a lighthearted debate. One time, to the division’s surprise, you two started doing a deep dive into a conspiracy theory, complete with a whole digital presentation and proven statistics.

It’s even more surprising how convincingly well put the entire thing was, to the point even Captain Ashiro listened in with interest.

In all honesty, this little routine of sorts is fine for the members, enjoyable even. It’s a chance to hold more conversations about different non-kaiju-related topics thanks to you and Hoshina’s exceptionally random conversation starters. Everyone only prays that you guys don’t open up a topic that might get you random looks at best, or—hypothetically—get the both of you canceled on the internet at worst.

Today was one of those days, the team figured, when you and your boyfriend step into the (initially busy) lounge with matching porcelain cups holding the same coffee drink. Hibino, Leno, and Kikoru were the ones present in the room… this would probably be their first time listening in on the two of you rambling.

“I don’t know, Soshiro-san, don’t you think that may be a little too intense?” you made a beeline and assumed your spot on the couch right in front of Kikoru, drinking from your cup the moment you sat on the soft cushion.

Hoshina follows after you and settles right by your side, “No way!” If he weren’t holding anything, you can envision the way he’d cross his arms and huff. He mimics your movements from a while ago, taking a sip from his drink before placing the cup down with a small ‘clink!’.

A childish pout graces his lips as he stares right at you. “If you think hard enough, I’m telling ya, dicing those kaiju is just like makin’ intricate fruit carvings!”

May the gods give the juniors strength because what the actual fuck were you two talking about?

The room is radio silent. You and Hoshina continue to glare at each other as if you’re both in a mental debate. Which seems likely enough.

Kikoru nudges Leno’s arm to get him to break the ice and the poor guy sputters. Hibino breaks into a cold sweat when he catches the way you and Hoshina sharply look at the three of them.

“V-Vice Captain..! (Name)-san… go–good afternoon!” Leno prays his salute doesn’t give away the fact he’s shaking.

By record, this may have to be the oddest conversation they’ve heard in passing.

You flash the three of them a small smile and Hoshina does a small wave of his hands. Not even a second later, the man beside you jumps at the opportunity to find allies for his claim.

“You guys think that slicing kaiju is like slicing fruits, right?”

Bless your soul that you’re stubborn enough to match his energy. “If anything, it’s more like carving wood! You have to be intricate about it!”

Hoshina looks back at you like you’ve transformed into the kaiju you were talking about, “Wood carving?! Darlin’ I love you more than the coffee I’m drinking right now, but you’ve reached a new level of insanity!”

“Comparing anything to kaiju neutralization is already some form of insanity…” Leno whispers under his breath. “Let alone wood carving and fruit dicing…” Kikoru whispers to him in agreement.

“Aww, you love me more than coffee?”

The immediate shift from a lighthearted argument to some sappy lovey dovey confession while talking about carving patterns on kaiju may be just as impressive as your combat prowess, the trio decides.

Hibino breathes a sigh of relief and starts murmuring, “Those two fit each other so well… wonder if it’s a match made in heaven or hell…”

“We’re soulmates!” Hoshina corrects him, instinctively reaching out to hold your hands as if it’ll prove his point further. He gently laces his fingers with yours before glowering at Hibino, “You also kinda called us demons with the whole hell comment. Thirty push-ups for the three of you, ya hear?”

Leno nudges his senior’s ribs like he wants to end him right then and there. Kikoru was probably devising ways to successfully kill him on the spot. Hibino’s fighting for his life, but he still manages to catch the way you and Hoshina look at each other with mirroring lovesick smiles.

If he manages to scrape out alive, maybe this coffee talk wasn’t that bad.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work! [posted: 061124]

#💟.series #🎐rimi.works #kaiju no 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #hoshina x reader #hoshina fluff

194 notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 19 hours

Text

Yandere Squid Game AU | Idia Shroud

Working for a secret organization that murdered its players on a massive scale wasn’t as horrifying as it sounds. Granted, it was truly mortifying but you get used to it. You don’t show your face, you don’t flinch, and you listen to the Frontman. If you keep quiet and stay in your lane it isn’t long before you start moving up the ladder. From triangle to circle to square–it was like any other job. Like in any typical occupation if your boss, finds favor in your physique or otherwise you naturally get promoted. Thus was your fate as you went from being a mere circle to becoming the masked servant in the VIP room where you subject yourself to the whims of the richest and most disgusting patrons.

Idia Shroud

Not many had the privilege of seeing the identity of the Host but you weren’t a part of the many. He was a technical genius, an avid inventor, and the one who loved to switch between his position as the Host and Frontman: Idia Shroud.

Now that you knew the joyful tilde in the disguised voice was made with a toothy smile of a gamer with azure flame-like hair; it made a disturbing amount of sense. No longer could you differentiate the man from his madness when he demanded you call his name in private.

When you first met him he gave an odd aura, speaking as though he was imitating someone or making fun of whoever he was talking to. It made for an interesting work environment, he would make oddly specific references as he commanded the squares who could only tilt their heads and agree. Usually, you’d practiced your stoicism keeping yourself as robotlike as possible.

But one meme.

One reference.

That has you chuckling and answering the Frontman, who seemed to freeze behind his mask still turned in your direction. He continues on acting as if nothing happened and you worry that you may have embarrassed yourself in front of your boss. Only to be broken out of your routine by one of the squares who handed you folded clothes and gave you instructions to begin your job as a VIP waiter.

So maybe he did like it?

“You’re the new waiter, right?”

You nodded.

“Good. You like it, here?”

“...Yes.”

“Good.”

The interaction was so curt and quick that you missed the skip in his step. It doesn’t take long for you to realize whoever is behind the frontman’s mask is also the one pretending to dress up as whatever shape employee you need to interact with. At that point, it makes you tirelessly paranoid as you feel the possible pressure of your boss constantly watching you.

And while you think you might have hidden your fear behind your masks, guess who’s got heavy surveillance on your room? He sees the way you pace on your time off and the recordings of you whispering affirmations in the bathroom. He enjoys seeing your cute reactions when he scares you a bit or how you tilt your head when you're trying to guess if it's him. But he loves you more. And if his kitten is feeling skittish he’ll change your environment.

“You. Come with me.”

You nod, sending a look to the other VIP waiters who express their worry with as little expression as possible. Following the Host whose appearances were so far and in between would mean instant death should you disappoint. But with as many things in your life, you expected who this was.

“...Sir?”

The Host turns their head to you, stopping in his tracks.

‘How dare you?’

You sighed harnessing your courage as you continued.

“I know who you are…you’re the one who's been behind the masks right?”

He stayed in place.

“The one who’s left those memes in my room. That was you, right?”

He turned fully around. Facing you with his arms behind his back.

“And if I am?”

You didn’t actually know. You just wanted to be sure. To throw away this facade of deception. You wanted the truth.

“I would prefer it if you just told me it was you. Rather than pretending you were someone else.”

A bellied voice-modified laughter emanated from the Host. He grabbed his wrist, subtly clicking at a device on his arm. Before returning to cradle his stomach.

“Awfully bold of you to approach your boss like this.”

Perhaps your relocation could wait.

#yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere x reader #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere squid game au #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia x reader #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere ignihyde #yandere twisted wonderland x reader

105 notes · View notes

lexluvswriting · 2 days

Text

♛ Princess Treatment.

“Ain’t it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? Ain’t it exciting you, the rumble where you lay?”

- NFWMB; Hozier.

-> Pairing: Loki x plus-size! princess! reader.

-> CW: 18+ CONTENT! NSFW! SMUT AHEAD! MINORS, DNI. fem! reader (she/her), fem genitalia used, plus-size reader, allusions to low self-confidence and harmful behaviours, mentions of fat shaming, princess reader au! Loki is a doting, loving, lowkey-obsessed partner who loves to see us shine! Breeding! DON’T be like these dummies, regardless of what timeline ur in. Wrap. Before. You. Tap.

-> TW: porn with slight plot; no use of y/n; soft-ish dom!Loki x sub!reader; unprotected p in v sex; oral sex (f receiving); face-sitting; praising (f receiving); body worship (f receiving); dirty talk; breeding (lol); mirror sex, mirror sex, mirror sex!

W/C: 4.8

╰┈➤ Lex's note: thanks to this anon’s req, you all have this!! firstly: i am so sorry for ghosting, and being super late in my fic posting!!! it wasn’t intentional at all 😔 (uni is hard & mental health takes a toll T-T). second: Loki! Likes! Thick! Girls! anyway- Hozier did inspire this, HOW DID YOU KNOW?? indeed, NOTHING fucks with Loki's baby. I hope i did this request justice AND i hope we all giggle & squeal at this beautiful God the way i did. TYSM ANON for requesting <3 <3

“I do not believe this to be a fair council if we are not considering the voices of the people.”

Your voice was clear as you stood to say your piece, smoothing one of the ruffles along the waistline of your dress as you did so. Your head was held high as you spoke, commanding the attention of all the others who were part of this monthly council- the royals from the territories surrounding Asgard would convene at certain locations routinely to discuss oncoming threats, or other diplomatic concerns as ‘equals’, with today’s meeting taking place in one of King Odin’s many conference chambers.

“Malekith’s constant threats put strain on our territories, yes, but also on our citizens. Pulling more tithe from our villages will not warrant greater victory- I believe that it will worsen the tensions that are already rising.” As you continued your advocacy, you glanced around to ensure you held each attendant’s attention, before your eyes settled on blue irises that twinkled with usual cunning charm. Your mouth was on auto-pilot- this speech rehearsed to the point where you mumbled it in your sleep at times- allowing you to focus on the beauty of the prince across the table. His eyes of blue, like Jotunheim ice, watched you with a fondness only you could recognise while he reclined in his chair, flipping his dagger as he listened to you. Each time you felt flustered, you’d look back to him, for his eyes to soften and his chin to dip in the smallest, softest of encouraging nods, flushing out your nerves and leaving a sensual warmth that started in your chest and leaked into your lower stomach. You could do this. You could do this, then retreat back to the comfort of your lover’s room and let him coddle you like he loved to do.

“As lovely as your attempts are, princess, we do not have time to shed wasteful tears over a few peasant bodies.” A dry, dismissive voice cut you off before you could conclude; the callousness in his mention of the ‘peasants’- including your own people- made your fists curl. An older man from a neighbouring kingdom waved his hand dismissively as he sat back in his chair, swirling his goblet lazily. He barely spared you a glance, shaking his head as he continued with a bored expression,

“We deploy soldiers to protect these peasants. What do they need to fear? They are expected to provide mass harvests, and we deploy mass protection. If they do not know how to serve their kingdoms, why should we prioritise the preservation of such useless people?”

Your breath stopped, eyes widening as you turned to him directly, yet you sensed Loki go deadly still in your peripheral, noticing the way he caught the dagger, blade facing up, holding it a little tighter as the lord spoke.

“Their families are starving enough as it is. They do not control the weather, nor the integrity of the soil! We cannot possibly place more expectations-”

“If they were worried about providing for their kingdoms, they would not be so reckless in their breeding, princess. If they were smarter, they’d sacrifice a few of those runts to gain more supplies. That, my dear, is why the rich stay rich, and the poor stay poor.” He droned on, the lord’s beady eyes finally looking at you, up and down slowly before his lip curled in a sneer,

“Perhaps their ‘starvation’ is simply a thinness they’ve earnt from working as hard as they have. Not that one might expect you to understand, princess.” The comment left a bitter taste in your mouth, making your throat tighten as the room suddenly went cold. You felt as if every pair of eyes watched you- scrutinising your rounder, curvier appearance compared to others. Granted, you weren’t the most ‘conforming’ to society’s beauty standards as far as princesses went within the nine realms, but you had believed your curvier body type was representative- beautiful- despite the criticisms. Yet the current whispers that swirled from around the room, the stares that your paranoia sucked in greedily, it made you want to crumble in a little heap and wither. In that moment, your stomach tightened, as if it would never eat again, and you felt yourself sucking in, straightening your posture subconsciously at his twisted, barbed retort.

“What exactly are you trying to imply?” The voice that spoke up was not your own but rather, the God of Mischief who stayed reclined. You watched him, slowly twirling his dagger between his fingers again- a calculating, threatening display of dexterity that made the bystanders in the room stiffen- while he cocked his head the way a beast would before devouring its prey. You had been on the receiving end of that stare many a time, but his eyes would not gleam with murderous intent; rather a hunger, as if you were a Goddess offering your nectar to a starving man. Yet even that memory couldn’t quell the uneasiness you felt as you slowly sat down, still silent.

“I did not say you could sit, princess.”

Your thighs had barely touched the edge of the chair as you froze, eyes flicking up to meet Loki’s who watched you with that mischievous gleam; plotting, planning, the way he usually was. You tried to shake your head, not wanting to be in the spotlight any longer, but he nodded, pointing his dagger at you as if it were a goblet- finally stirring something in you at his protectiveness,

“I’d like to hear you finish,” Your thighs squeezed together at the implication, “Your ideas seemed very promising- far more fulfilling than the vitriol I’ve heard during the earlier half of this forsaken meeting.” Huffs and murmurs of protest started, before being hushed as Thor- a supporter of your’s and his brother’s private relationship- cleared his throat, nodding at you to continue.

You hesitated, swallowing thickly as you slowly stood up again, voice considerably less confident than before as you completed your proposal, which had left the other participants nodding or murmuring contemplatively to those next to them. The lord who had insulted you simply rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his goblet before chiming in again- as if he couldn’t help himself-

“Ah, yes. The people’s princess. Forgive me for being so ‘out of order’,” His sneer told you the exact opposite as he sat back with a sigh, “At least they’ll know who to come to for meat if your lands are ever amidst a siege.” He muttered under his breath, earning a few malicious sneers and snickers, and as Loki snarled, Thor banged his hammer against the table,

“That will conclude this meeting. We will return later, when we have remembered how to behave like proper royals, and not barbaric animals.” He growled, the threat evident in his voice. You didn’t meet Loki’s gaze as you ducked your head, the first one to leave the meeting hall with tears that welled quickly.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧｡˚⋆♛｡⁺୨୧˚⋆⁺₊✧ ---

“I never want to go to another meeting again.”

“Oh, my darling, don’t say that.” He murmured, pressing kisses to the crown of your head as you buried your face against his torso. He had been laid back against the headboard of his bed, waiting for you after the meeting with his arms out wide as soon as you entered, and you crawled into them with teary eyes, sniffling as you lay in between his legs, face nuzzled against his torso as you cried a little.

“I feel absolutely humiliated!”

“My darling- my little Goddess- your father sends you as a representative to these meetings because he sees your brilliance, as do I-”

“Yet they all laughed at me!”

“Nobody would dare, my love, not unless they wanted my daggers carving out their insides.” His voice had remained soothing as he cooed praises, one hand rubbing your back while the other loosened the ties of your dress, letting you relax more, breathing freely as the corset underneath the bodice stopped crushing your chest and compressing your internal organs.

“He was right.”

“Who, love?” He hummed, barely listening to your vent, more focused on soothing you and your body- his vice, as he’d tell you whenever he was in between your legs, or looking up at you as you’d ride him- only to pause at your next words.

“The lord.” You sniffled, looking up at him with teary eyes as you shuffled slightly, climbing up him to rest your head against his chest.

“The lord? The lord is an insignificant fool- a worm who has been left alive to wriggle for too long. You are wonderful, beloved-”

“Loki.” You groaned, sullen as you hid your face against his neck, not in the mood for sympathy- regardless of how sincere it may have been.

“Be honest with yourself!” You snapped, the anger not even anger at all, but a storm of self-doubt, harsh self-criticism and insecurity,

“All these nobles see is a frumpy pig in pearls & frilly dresses, alright? So let us say it for what it is. I am fat. I am fat, and hard to look at, and I don’t even look like a proper princess-”

“Never,” He had flipped you both over faster than you could blink, his snarl protective as he grabbed your face with his left hand, pinning your hands above your head on the pillow with your right, rearranging your positions with that unfair godly strength he possessed, “Utter that filth again.”

Your tears had stopped in their tracks; doe eyes wide as you looked up at him, pouty lips parted in shock, face slightly flushed from crying.

“For as long as the sun brings day, and the moon calls night, I never want to hear you utter such horrid curses. Not a damn word. Do you hear me?” He growled, fingers holding your chin firmly before his hand cupped the side of your face instead, thumb brushing away the tears that lingered before he rubbed at the soft squish of your cheek. His index and thumb pinched at the apples of your cheek- the only apples he’d crave as long as he lived- gently, before kissing either side of your face.

“You are the only woman in all nine realms I love. You are the only woman I want; be it above me, beneath me or by my side. You may be the people’s princess, but you are a queen to me. The only woman I would kneel for- be it in the comfort of our bed chambers, or in the middle of the damn courtyard. Understand?” His words reverberated in your ears, rattling around your puddle of a brain before slinking over your heart and straight down to your core. The warmth he had triggered when he defended you during the meeting came back again in full force, your breathing hitching as you gawked up at him, before finally nodding dumbly, as if you had lost all ability to speak.

“If this is truly how you feel, then I must be punished for failing you.”

You blinked, trying to understand where he was going with this- your sulky voice a mere squeak as you echoed his words,

“P… punished?-”

“Oh, yes. Severely punished, for failing to present just how infatuated I am.” He murmured lowly as if this was a grave offence, his cock stirring in his pants as he saw your brain working behind your eyes; the way the words clicked and the way your thighs squeezed together, making your cheeks redden as your lips quivered.

“If I have to fuck my love into you for you to remember how beautiful you are, then I will make sure neither of us leave this bed until I have done it successfully.” His voice had taken a husky dive, your stomach coiling as your chest puffed up, nipples pebbling beneath the layers of fabric making up the bodice of your dress. Your body responded for you, tears drying to accommodate the curious twinkles of desire that began to shine through instead. His hands moved slowly, grabbing at the clothed flesh of your shapely hips, before slowly moving up over your body- your heart racing, even skipping a few beats from the intensity that he stared at you with- before his palms cupped your breasts. The soft mounds of your body could not simply be contained by a God’s measly palm, as if testament to your beauty, and he groaned at the sight, before grabbing his dagger impatiently, making you squeak,

“Loki!” You grabbed his hand, “I like this gown.” You mumbled, the lust glazing over your irises, making him huff softly before discarding the small weapon, only to pull you to sit up right on the bed with him, ridding you of the garment as he pulled it off.

“I could have bought you ten more. Ten more dresses to adorn this heavenly body.” His praise was a hungry growl- the timbre of his voice becoming more and more telling of his lustful desires- as his lips found purchase against the top of your breasts, making you gasp as his hands grabbed at the globes of your rear- his cock twitching at each whimper, straining unbearably against his pants as he beheld you. His princess. His darling.

And he’d happily slaughter anyone who threatened your comfort.

“Look at yourself, princess,”

His hands turned you around like you were a ragdoll, squeezing your hips as he pressed his own against the flesh of your ass, making you whine softly as you shut your eyes, knowing exactly where he had positioned you both. He knelt behind you on the bed, making you sit on your knees while he peeked over your shoulder, resting his chin on the surface, his icy eyes meeting yours in the mirror in front of his bed after a soft squeeze of your breast made your eyes flutter open.

“Loki-”

“Hush, my darling. I know what you want… my needy little princess. My precious girl.”

His praises only made your cunt clench eagerly, the emptiness making you whine as your eyes followed the way his hands roamed over you in the mirror. Where you saw cellulite and stretch marks, he saw health. Where you saw rolls of fat and pudginess, he saw comfort. Your breasts were his pillows, your thighs his ear muffs during the colder seasons; your body was his home, and he planned to show you just how much it all meant to him. How much you meant to him.

“You know, darling, in Jotunheim… where I was born?” A squeeze of your left breast, fingers gently capturing your nipple between them to toy with while he murmured in your ear between kisses,

“The male giants believe that the bigger their mate, the healthier their children would be. And for you, my princess, the giants would see curves like yours and go to war in your name.” He hummed, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while he teased your body gently, your breathy whines and heedy noises making him feral. Your eyes widened at his words, before his other hand cupped your mound, barely giving you time to adjust before his teeth marked your skin, making you moan abruptly. You saw the way he smiled wolfishly in the reflection of the mirror, his low chuckle alluring to your senses as he purred in your ear,

“Does that appeal to you, princess? Wielding the knowledge that your body alone appeals to my base desires- my primal needs?” He growled the word accordingly, and you bucked your hips back into his clothed cock while his fingers sampled the wetness pooling in the apex between your thighs.

“Loki-”

“Allow me, my love, to make you feel like a queen tonight.”

As if he didn’t do that anyway.

He pulled away, before lying down with his head near the foot of the bed, so you’d see your reflection as he pulled you up to straddle his chest.

“My face is your throne, beloved. And I’d like to taste everything you have to offer.” He murmured, making your heart leap up to your throat, before plummeting straight down to your stomach as he wrapped his arms around your pillowy thighs, the sensation of him handling you making you squeak. Once your dripping cunt was hovering over his face, he groaned softly, as if he had been starving, and your hands braced his arms gently as you mumbled his name, before inclining your head. He watched curiously, before realising his mistake and let magic dissolve his clothing, leaving you both equally bare, his cock jumping at the way your thighs squeezed slightly, enjoying the sight of his nakedness.

Without further ado, he pulled you down- the movement making you squeal lightly- until your lower lips connected with his. He pressed a loving kiss to your mound- the feeling making you shiver- his tongue poking out at your glistening folds, tasting your honey greedily as he lapped at you. The taste of you made his cock jump, combined with the string of moans and mewls you released while his tongue wrote a love letter between your legs. You cried out his name in a strained moan, hands immediately grabbing at his silken locks for some sort of stability while he smothered himself in your nectar, absolutely drinking you in like you were his last meal. Every single time he did this, it always managed to get better and better- how? You had no damn clue.

“Look at yourself for me, pet.” His voice sounded in your muddled brain, despite his mouth being occupied, making you look up towards the mirror in shock, only to notice a slightly greenish tinge to your eyes- green from his magic as you realised he was looking through your eyes, both of you watching the sight of yourself atop his face. The both of you enjoyed the way your body jerked and jumped in the mirror as his head moved eagerly, hands squeezing at the plump fat of your inner thighs as he ate you out eagerly, like it was his favourite activity.

“You know it is.” His wicked, wicked voice of liquid sex appeal reverberated, making you whine, unable to even scowl from the way his tongue kept your eyes fluttering shut; only to feel his teeth nip at your inner thigh, a silent reminder to keep them open and on the mirror.

“You’re going to watch yourself, and watch the beauty that I am blessed with, as I make you come. Do you understand me, princess?”

You nodded dumbly, giving in to his demands as you weakly rode his face, his hands moving your hips along as he groaned into your mound, nose nudging the top of your wet cunt while his tongue stroked you, delving past and into your hole, making your gasp break into a weak whine as your head lolled back. Your brain was fuzzy, and you found yourself whining his name- which only made him harder and harder while he moaned at the taste, feeling and sound of you. If fate were to have him at your feet, only to serve you, he’d happily give up his titles to do so; especially with the way you looked above him right now. Soon enough, he was pulling an orgasm from you- your voice increasing higher in pitch, cracking more and more as you grunted and whimpered between moans, your breathing uneven as you tried your best to watch yourself, or more importantly, him between your legs. His neglected cock wept with beads of pre-cum from the blissful torture of hearing you, yet not being used to please you. He could have come from your moans alone, but he held back, determined to drive his point home- as well as drive into you.

“Oh, Loki- Loki I’m- mmm- I- ah-”

“It’s alright, darling. I’m right here.”

“I’m so close- so close-”

“Come for me, princess. My beautiful, beautiful princess.”

His coo made you squeak, before crying out as your release slammed into you, warmth flooding your lower stomach and gushing out, with Loki groaning happily as you sated his hunger yet again. You watched yourself, the way your eyes were half-lidded, the way you had some sort of blissful after-glow after he pulled such an orgasm from your core. You trembled slightly, whimpering as he gently guided your legs back, helping to shuffle you until you were resting against his painfully neglected erection- flinching slightly as he hissed upon feeling the warmth of your plush thighs snug against his hips, and the warmth radiating off your needy cunt.

“There you are… there’s my girl… my beautiful girl.”

He groaned huskily, pushing himself up to kiss you, making you mewl at the taste of yourself on his lips, on his tongue as it swirled against yours in a hedonistic display.

“Are you convinced yet, my love? Or shall I continue until you have no choice but to agree?” He was absolutely drunk off of your essence as he asked it, his hips lifting up into you lightly, rubbing himself against your wetness as he watched your eyes flutter shut for a moment to enjoy the feeling of himagainst your slit. Seeing the way he was so determined to please you, it made your mind reel; the fondness in his gaze as he watched you come, the tenderness he showered you with as he kissed you, before leaning back on his elbows, looking at you like that? It certainly made something in your brain switch.

“I…” You bit your lip, before nodding as you mustered up the courage, “I want to watch myself ride you.”

As soon as you said that, you could have sworn Loki whimpered- your eyes widening as he grabbed at your hips- pawing at you like he was some desperate concubine.

“Please- please ride me, my princess. Please, let me watch you- let me see through your eyes.” He murmured, leaning up to latch onto one of your heavy breasts, his tongue warm against your hardened nipple; the sensation making you gasp a breathy “Yes,” earning a hungry groan as he shifted, aligning himself with your entrance. You glanced down at where his mouth found purchase against your chest, his eyes on you as he pulled away, probably to kiss you, only to freeze as he felt you begin to sink down on him slowly.

You both gasped softly, before moaning together at the sensation- as if you two didn’t do this many times before- his head tilting back and his eyes screwing shut.

“Oh, my princess- my beautiful girl- Norns, you feel so good-” He growled out, hands grabbing your hips like a lifeline as he let you set the pace. Your attention, however, was focused on the mirror as you watched yourself, from the way your curves rippled with each moment of impact, to the way his hands grabbed at your soft, comforting flesh; fingers digging into the comfort of your skin for solace. Your warm, tight cunt gripped him for dear life as you rolled your body against his, hands splayed against his chest as you bounced so nicely.

The fat head of his cock found your spot easily- his sensitive tip prodding against your gummy walls over and over- eliciting gasps of his name as you watched his shaft disappear into you over and over.

“Who’s my princess?”

He cooed, his voice like velvet, making you clench more around him- to which he chuckled at- before flexing his hips up into you, helping you feel all of him as you impaled yourself on his wide cock. You could only whine at his praise, your cheeks warming as your hands flinched up to hide your face, only for his hands to catch your wrists and pull them back to his chest,

“Ah, ah. That’s not what I asked, darling. I said,” His hips bucked up into you to prove his point, the harsh, sudden thrust making you moan,

“Who’s my princess?”

Your brain was practically a gushing puddle of matter, your face the epitome of raw, unadulterated pleasure. You had stopped watching the mirror, eyes blurring as you lost yourself in the pulses of that warm, wonderful feeling he gifted you with every time the tip of him hit your spongy walls, yet you mumbled out an almost incoherent, “I am,” earning you a growl of approval and

More.

Hard.

Thrusts.

Thrusts that left you moaning and whining helplessly as you grabbed at his hands, fingers interlacing together as your body tightened again from the sensitivity of your recent orgasm, and the sensation of your wonderful body clenching around him made the God groan your name, along with curses in an old language that sent warmth thrumming for you. Your mewls joined his groans in a raw melody of love and lust; his infatuation with you seeming to grow stronger with every thrust, every beautiful, sinful noise you made.

“Tell me darling, do you like what you see?”

His voice was strained as he fucked up into you, his arms wrapping around your hips, holding you flush against him while he bucked his hips. The combined sounds of wet arousal from your cunt, and skin slapping against skin as his thighs smacked against your plush rear, made you squeak out his name, barely registering his words.

“So beautiful, my princess… My Goddess, my beautiful girl.” He grunted, his eyes glazed over with lust, yet the expression he gave you was nothing but adoration before he slowed his thrusts suddenly. You blinked, whimpering a noise of confusion before he repositioned you with careful movements, laying you across his bed and parallel to the mirror opposite, so you both could watch the scene that played out together as he slid back inside you again, hands gripping your hips as he restrained his thrusts to slow rolls, the gentle, consistent pace making you sigh, toes curling as he peppered your body with kisses.

“I should worship you properly, my darling- should fill you with my seed ‘til you give me a bunch of beautiful little heirs.” He groaned, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watched you, while your eyes watched the mirror, meeting his gaze for the moment to nod- the both of you like irresponsible teenagers as he humped into you desperately- your own lip caught between your teeth, eyes all wide and innocent-like, which made him growl and increase the pace of his hips.

“Do you want that, my pretty Goddess? Want me to worship you properly?” He grabbed your face, turning your head to face him as your lips caught in a searing kiss. He swallows your moans greedily, guttural noises sounding from the back of his throat as he kissed you over and over.

“Please, Loki.”

You barely recognised your voice, with how soft and whiny it was, and your body was absolutely sensitive- his thrusts sending jolts of pleasure so strong that it ruined the integrity of your muscles- your legs trembling as he cupped under your thighs, folding you over slightly and swearing as he felt your body tighten greedily, as if you were anticipating his release.

“Mm? Tell me, my darling, tell me what you need of me. How can I reward you, my princess?”

His voice had lowered huskily as he repeatedly buried himself within you. The action had you seeing stars, making you cry out for him before you pleaded weakly,

“Please, please- I want you to come-”

You pawed at his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as best you could while you kissed him. Your pleas fell on listening ears, and the God rewarded you with a guttural groan, one specific thrust forcing out an orgasm you didn’t even know was building- the action making you all but keen for him- as your body clenched. Your mound tightened around him with the intent to milk him dry, and he finally let himself come- slamming his hips into you with a sense of finality- while he groaned your name over and over like a prayer, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted, with his cock twitching and jumping as he drained himself, every last hot rope of white painting your pretty walls. He stayed in you until he softened, as if to make real on his promise of fucking his love into you, before he collapsed beside you on the bed with a hum of content.

You had both come down from your highs together, and he had wrapped you up in his arms to pepper your face with kisses as he whispered sweet nothings and that made you giggle.

“Shall I kill that lord, for you, my love?”

“Loki.”

“It is but an innocent suggestion, my princess. Only to work in your favour.”

“Loki.”

“Alright, alright. But you must admit, I did do what I said I would, no?”

“Gods help me.”

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: i hope you guys love this as much as i did! pls feel free to request any time!! <3 L'autunno ch:5 & 6 are definitely otw, as well as another req for (you guessed it) Loki!! hehe. thank you for reading, my loves!!

65 notes · View notes

dollypopup · 1 day

Text

People who are saying 'it's so sad/annoying that Eloise never realized Penelope was in love with Colin!' and then using that to villify her and claim she was a bad friend to Penelope are. . .so missing the point.

WE know because we see much of the show through Penelope's eyes. Debling knew because Cressida told him. Cressida knew because she had a vested interest in that being the narrative. Violet knew because Colin very obviously asked her about friendship and love, and has a grand total of ONE woman he could have been talking about.

It is not on Eloise to assume truths about Penelope.

Read that again.

It is NOT on Eloise to assume truths about Penelope!

In the same way it was not on COLIN to assume Pen had a crush on him. The thing about trust is that you HOPE that the person you care about will open up to you, and in fact, it is GOOD that Eloise didn't notice. It doesn't mean she was a bad friend, or self centered, but rather that she was of the belief that her friend would be open with her.

That's not unreasonable of her.

How is Eloise meant to listen to a fact that is never voiced, and in fact, is actively denied?

Eloise asked Penelope in Season 2 if she would ever know what it was like to have a crush on someone, the way she had on Theo. Penelope told her STRAIGHT UP "no, I wouldn't know". What did you want Eloise to do? Accuse Penelope of being a liar and then proclaim she was clearly in love with her brother?

Same with Lady Whistledown- Penelope assured multiple times she wasn't LW to Eloise because when Eloise was talking about her, and having theories, and going on a detective chase about it, Penelope never told her she was LW.

The fact that Eloise HAD to assume these things about Penelope was an indication the friendship had problems. And these problems are tied up in Penelope's arc: coming into the light and living her authenticity unapologetically. Because she kept so much close to the chest for so long. 'Eloise didn't listen'. Penelope never SAID ANYTHING about it for her to listen TO.

Now, does that mean Eloise is blameless and saintly and good? No. That would be lame and boring and would do her a disservice in being a complex, interesting female character. The way near all the women in this show are. The truth is that BOTH Eloise AND Penelope were wrapped up in the immediacy of their own lives, and had different goals and interests from one another. In many ways, Eloise and Penelope were together by proximity, rather than aligned in purpose.

But also. . .we are ALL more invested in our own lives than those of our friends. We care for our friends, yes, but we live our own lives first and foremost. And when we have friendships, we trust that they will talk to us about their lives, their truths, their passions, and their hopes and that we will celebrate such with them. Whilst Eloise has ignored Penelope at times, Penelope has also ignored Eloise. Eloise has assumed Penelope to have the same interests in feminism and not in marriage as she does, but Penelope does not talk to her otherwise until they have a fight about it.

It explodes out of her. Comes out, almost against her will.

They have issues communicating. That's relatable.

But people don't want to see the relatability of these women. They want to compare them and pit them against each other, instead of trying to understand BOTH of them.

Listen, the truth is that this fandom has a misogyny problem. We only want to empathize with the woman we see as the most relatable for our own viewing, and any other woman who is in any way contesting their immediate happiness is turned into a villain. In fact, in Polin, it's extended to ANYONE who has done Penelope any form of disservice ever, as if tension and conflict isn't what drives a narrative.

Colin said one thing that was hurtful to Pen? Burn him at the stake. Eloise is hurt by Penelope's secrecy? Well, she should have listened more, and fuck her, she was a bad friend. Marina told Penelope to butt out of her relationship and to stay in her lane? She's evil and cruel and treated Pen horribly. Penelope never did anything wrong, everyone else is the problem.

This denies Penelope her own accountability, her own narrative of growth, firstly,

But secondly, ALL the women in this show have compelling reasons for acting the way they do. Not just the one you like the most.

I see people talking about how they feel so bad for Penelope, that she has undergone so much and has no one to really confide in, that she feels she has no friend with which to unburden herself with: but the same is true for Eloise. She had no one to talk to about the pain and grief she experienced at the end of Season 2, and kept mum about Penelope's identity as LW all throughout. The same was true for Marina, who had been Otherized from the moment she stepped into the ton, and had been physically and emotionally abused by her own family as she faced down a future of potential misery. Why can you see and sympathize from one character's perspective and yet not the other? Why is it okay to proclaim one a villain, and the other an innocent?

If you can feel empathy for Penelope, you better be ready to feel it for Eloise, for Cressida, for Marina, for Kate and Edwina, because ALL these women underwent some very painful circumstances in their lives, and all of them made mistakes that resulted in other people getting hurt. They have all been hero in their own story, and the antagonist in another. As we all are.

How ironic to see 'well, Eloise is terrible because she's' not seeing it from HER perspective!'

when we are doing the same

#eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #y'all are missing the point and it infuriates me #'oh eloise is a bad friend because she didn't listen' to what? crickets? Pen never TOLD HER ANYTHING #and she has HER REASONS FOR DOING THAT #Maybe. . .just maybe. . .you can empathize with more than 1 woman at a time without pitting them against each other #just a thought

122 notes · View notes

physalian · 2 days

Text

There’s this unskippable Google AI ad on YouTube where this girl consults the robot about how to cancel dinner plans with the people across the table in the most annoying voice (likely because I have seen this ad now and had to listen to her asinine questions 20 times at least) and this ad, right here, speaks to my frustration around AI:

It disincentivizes critical thinking.

I know the ad is a joke and meant to be lighthearted and I’m only this annoyed because it’s unskippable and irritating af, but every time I see it all I can think is “if you can’t manage enough creativity and critical thinking to come up with your own excuse to cancel on your friends, maybe you shouldn’t have those friends.”

I have a relative who is firmly in the ChatGPT camp and, for example, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to compress a video file and was venting to them about it. They sent me back something I didn’t read from ChatGPT. Meanwhile, I looked up a YouTube video and figured out how to do the rest on my own, and getting the file compressed was immensely satisfying. Far more than mindlessly and thoughtlessly consulting the robot.

“It’s just like a YouTube video!” They’d told me.

No, a real person put time and effort into that video. That robot stole their content without their consent, didn’t credit them, and spat it back out. I used to patronizingly refer to ChatGPT as "the magic conch" and now I can barely do that anymore because that metaphor is becoming all-too real.

While I can understand the barriers it lowers—like if you struggle with writing the robot does it for you, or if you need a piece of art and are too poor, you can generate it for free. Mindless, repetitive tasks that eat up creative juices that can just be automated by a robot, too (even though everyone can tell when a response is canned and artificial and no one appreciates talking to a machine).

If you keep consulting ChatGPT for how to articulate what you want to say, or just straight-up having it do the hard work for you, you’re never going to learn. Yes it’s taken me 8 years to reach the quality and skill of writing I have but as another Tumblr post out there said: The time will pass anyway.

I can’t draw to the skill level that I’d like to. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep practicing until I get there. I thrive off that sense of accomplishment. There’s no little hit of dopamine from typing in a prompt and clicking a button and I certainly don’t appreciate the final product scalped without consequence from real artists.

Or, like when I had to fire a beta reader for flagrant abuse of AI in her work: I can copy-paste my manuscript into ChatGPT, too. I’d paid her for a human response, not garbage feedback that couldn’t understand what I was writing beyond that there were words on the page. I wanted so badly to ask her why she does a job in a creative field if she's just going to have a robot do all the fun parts? I beta read at a great loss of profit because I enjoy beta reading and it's a fiercely competetive market. Surely if she wanted to scam people, she could have done so in so many other ways. You don't need to know how to pen complex prose in your every day life, but by god, you do need to know how to effectively communicate, contextualize, and argue your perspective and this ridiculous ad joking about cancelling dinner plans sure is funny, until it isn't.

And I know the people who made AI probably did so with the best of intentions but people can be lazy and cheap and we love taking shortcuts to save money and I stand by this: "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."

So. Yeah. This is a writing advice blog and this post has almost nothing to do with it, but that ad annoys me to no end and I had to say something somewhere about it. Bottom line: Robots were supposed to make the hard jobs, the monotonous jobs, the overcomplicated jobs, the belittling jobs easier, not make us all into pudding-boned Wall-E people. If you want to write, learning is absolutely free - write on the back of your grocery receipts for all I care. If you want to draw, pick up a notebook and pack of pencils from the local dollar store and start drawing.

What you made will always mean more to you than something that didn't cost you time, effort, brain power, or even money to obtain.

#fuck ai everything #writing #drawing #ai #chatgpt #mini rant #wall-e was a warning not an aspiration

50 notes · View notes

spade-riddles · 1 day

Note

Spade, I'm not trying to be a troll here, I swear. But you said recently how disgusted you would be to see Taylor playing aunt to a Kushner child. But don't you think this whole thing is going to end with Taylor pretending to be stepmom to two Kushner kids? It seems like the only logical outcome.

You said you're following Taylor because you think she's planning something big. But what if she's not? To me, songs like Dear Reader suggest the opposite. That Taylor is choosing her family and her happiness above playing the role people want from her. "Find another guiding light." I think that's addressed to us as much as the Hetlors, and I think the same about the themes of TTPD. Everyone in the fandom is going to have to swallow something they don't like, when it all shakes out. At first that seems to be Matty Healy, then it'll be Karlie (for the Gaylors and the Hetlors) and then for us, it'll be the Kushner association. I think she's been warning all of us she's not our hero, for a long time. But we only hear what we want to hear.

The 🎃 messages end the same way as Fresh Out The Slammer - with Taylor going home to the woman she loves. Making sacrifices for the woman she loves. It's not the story of a grand fight on behalf of something bigger. It's one scared woman fighting for the right to be human and live in peace with her family. People help her in the kitchen, she's not helping them. She walks the plank, but she does it to protect her lover. Not anyone else.

♠️ used to talk about a revolution - but that was years ago, and frankly I just think Taylor's priorities have changed. None of the riddles we've received in recent years seem to be about anything other than the freedom to be with Karlie. For me, I'm okay with that. I'm not saying you have to be too. I guess I'm just wondering how you would feel if a stepmom situation was how this all ended? Would it taint everything for you, or do you think you could still be happy for Taylor on some level, and proud of everything you did here?

Hi Anon, thank you for the thought out ask.

For clarity, I did not use the word 'disgusted'. I also do not believe those are Karlie's kids we see, so I do not believe Taylor will play the auntie or stepmom to 'Kushner' kids. Do we forget how many 'Dad' references Taylor has made? Or how Taylor wore pink, the night Jerk announced the birth of a boy.

I lean toward the two boys we see likely being Jerk's kids with Mikey. See this post for why I feel this way. My guess is that Karlie and Taylor will just keep their children very private, and we will not learn about them for years. In the meantime, Karlie stops posting about the two boys. I am not the only person who thinks they have a daughter.

I am not following Taylor because I think she is doing something big. I am following her because she is a brilliant musician, who I believe to also be a good human. Separately, I also think she is going to do something big/important. I was under the impression around here that people think she is going to burn it all down ... hence the imagery of the Lover house on tour. I would have to re-read the 🎃 messages again to see if that sways me. Regardless, if she sneezes it is big news. So if she does choose to come out, it will be huge.

I do agree that she is doing whatever she can to be with Karlie publicly and privately, and anyone caught in the cross-fire be damned. I have listened to Dear Reader as directed at myself/us, of course, and I believe it has merit. But I also know that I have a lot of emojis who visit this blog, seemingly wanting to keep us on board.

FWIW, if she never comes out that is completely fine. I have never been here chasing that goal. Do we get excited when we see her get loud? Yes. But it is her life to live as she chooses. The recent emoji anons say that she is ready to open the door, and she is not afraid.

If she played the stepmom role to Karlie's kids that the public would think are Kushners ... I would be gone. That would mean a lifetime contract with the Kushners and by association through Jared and Ivanka, the Trumps. It would mean that Ivanka and Jared are Taylor's children's aunt and uncle. How can anyone wrap their head around that idea? Why would a super powerful billionaire woman sign up for that? If she is coming out, why do so under that big of a lie? And, why put that kind of stain on your children? Why would we think she would sign up for that? Remember Karlie showed a turkey baster, and Taylor talked about her buns in the oven. Karlie did not have Jerk's kids. So why would they allow the Kushners to latch onto them for life?

If that is the narrative though, I would regret that I ever spent my time on here, other than for the education I have received over the years about Hollywood PR, and the friendships I have made. I would know I played a small part in her story though, as we have brought in many new Kaylors to support her. But, Taylor raising perceived 'Kushners' would be too much for me.

I would ask people to consider this ... no one on Tumblr calls out the Kushners for their criminality more than I do. If Taylor is pals with him, as some people around here believe, why did she play Paper Rings, seemingly at my request? Also, why did she drag him in I Bet You Think About Me, while also mocking Mikey? Maybe we share similar views of them?

25 notes · View notes

romeulusroy · 2 days

Text

In Another Life I Did Everything Right (Roman Roy x Baby!Roy)

Character/s: Roman, Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Logan

Word Count: 1,761

Inspired By: the popsicle I was eating lol

Requested: Can you write something with Roman and baby!roy? Whatever you want to do is fine. I really love your baby!roy writing and I adore Roman - anon

A/N: I took a lot of creative liberty lol, I hope you don't mind! Feedback is always appreciated my loves! 💜💜💜

It’s always the same memory, the same dream, that comes to him when the weather is warm, and humid, and he falls into a fitful sleep. It’s a realization that comes to him each time he sees your face: how young you are. Not the chubby cheeks of childhood, yet you remain untouched by adolescence. Though he knows he was a much younger man at the time, he is all grown up now. He feels his age, how old he must seem to you, how worn. Tired. He stands in the grass, the sun bright and willing to burn. He holds two plastic pouches. He knows what they are. He knows what you’re going to say, how worried you are that they’re beginning to melt: popsicles. They wouldn’t have been allowed in the house at all. They wouldn’t have made their way into the shopping cart, nor found a home in the freezer, had it not been for Connor. All his doing. He used to know the story, but tonight he can’t recall. Did you ask him for them? Were they a surprise? How could they have been hidden so well from the disapproving eyes of your father? It doesn’t really matter, he knows, but so much of this dream has become lost to him. It’s been so many years. He can no longer rely on his memory. This day has been contorted over the years, malleable and pliable, until, as far as he knows, it no longer resembles what truly happened. You’re on the pavement, legs dangling off the edge of the pool. The water is clear and, unfortunately, not as cool as you’d like. You wait, hand outstretched, for your treat. He makes you pick. Left, right, left right, left. Finally, you choose left. He smiles. Not then, but now. How big that decision must’ve felt, how harrowing it was to decide, blindly, the flavor. Older and wiser puts things into perspective. Time is funny that way. He’s grateful you remain untouched by this. Let this be your big decision. He tears yours open: orange. There is no mourning, there is no disappointment, though there is a mutual understand red is the best. He holds his up to the light, the wrapper giving way to a dark inky color. He’s glad you picked what you did: no one really liked grape all that much.

He wants to talk to you, to ask you questions, to understand where it all went wrong, but he is limited. The dialogue has been chosen for you. This is a reenactment, a loop, a labyrinth of muscle memory he must abide by. He settles beside you, legs crossed, listening to your teeth break through the ice and syrup. He wasn’t a spiritual person. He didn’t believe in God or Heaven or Hell. He didn’t have anyone or thing to turn to when things were hard, when times were tough. Sometimes he wished he was. A different person who could pray and believe and have faith. The cynic in him thought it was bullshit. The optimist, weak and tender, fought back as best as it could. There has to be something, right? There has to be something after all this? Life, mortal life, was so small in comparison to the time before and time after. How could there be nothing? He wants to ask you what you think, if there is God out there and, if so, how vengeful they must be. You were young, yes, but you grew up. There were so many opportunities for him to ask you, your views and opinions, and he didn’t. He wasn’t thinking as he was now. He didn’t have the perspective. Instead your voice slices through his thoughts, a knife to watermelon, it all becomes a sweet, sticky mess in the middle of his cheat. Where’s mom? You don’t have to clarify you mean your mother and not his. Logan’s latest ex-wife. They lasted longer than anyone expected, separating just a few weeks prior, when Spring turned to Summer. He speaks, and though he cannot hear himself, he knows his lines. He wishes now he’d been nicer. Kinder. Instead he is full of teenage angst and decides a snide comment is the best option to ease your growing unease given their recent split. Like all of your mothers, Connors and his and yours, they’ve left their children in the care of your father, though he understand this thought is cheap and really, only Connors mother couldn’t help it. Still, two out of three?

Did you see her today? You watch him, and wait, and your eyes are big, and there is melted popsicle down the front of your shirt. Yes, he admits, for a moment, but refuses any further details. Mascara ran down her face. She wheeled two large suitcases out of their (now Logans) room and down the hall, towards the stairs. He’s not sure where she was going, or for how long, and he suspected you wondered the same thing. Were the popsicles, similar to the cake Logan had bought Connor, some sort of bargain? A peace offering? Sorry kid, mommy and daddy are splitting. Here’s some sugar! Was this Connor’s way of making things better? He noticed the absence of his older siblings lessening these recent months. He found Shiv helping you with your school work, patiently listening to you ramble on about grade school drama: Leah liked Tommy, but Tommy liked Madison, who wasn’t your friend anymore because she was no longer sitting at your table during lunch, so Tessa was your new best friend. Kendall, with whatever he did to busy himself all day, took his evenings to hang out with you, trying his best to have something in common with a ten year old. Connor, who had never been lacking in your life, became an even more involved presence. Wrapped up with his own affairs, and probably several affairs, Logan had little time for his youngest. So here he was, doing his part, hoping a little attention wouldn’t leave you screwed up like the rest of them.

He wants to ask you what you think of all this. He should have, at the time, but he was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable that, finally, you were earning the Roy name. Your mother was just another wife, you were just another kid he didn’t like or want. You weren’t special, you weren’t going to change him. Uncomfortable because you were a child and children had big emotions. What if you cried? What if you got upset? He didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t know how to help. You wouldn’t know it at the time (how could you?) but your mother would move on. She’d remarry a few years down the line, and have more children, and leave you behind. Her second husband wasn’t a fan of your father. By association, he wasn’t keen to you either. Roman never asked, even when you got older, how you were dealing with it all. Not just this, but everything. Adolescence. He figured, like the rest of them, you’d move on. Recover. Find your way. You couldn’t. You were in Logan’s custody sure, but it was her you wanted. Holidays, and birthdays, and events, you wanted her. Instead he decides the conversation is over. The in-between is murky. There are popsicles, there is this grimm realization, there is regret, and then what?

He isn’t sure what it is that keeps him reliving this day over the others. There were plenty of times he spent with you, though usually you were drinking, attempting to run away from the family, your bloodline, your future. He saw you so rarely, you were such a different person when he got the chance to really look at you, talk to you. Logan shipped you off to boarding school the school year after your mother leaves. It’s prestigious, and sterile, and ruins any of that person he’s sitting beside. Somewhere between here and then you changed. Not just growing up, though is any other big brother really prepared for their baby to get older? You grew harder, colder, bitter. You drank more. You disappeared often. Your grades suffered, though that kind of information was kept mostly between you and the school. Every so often, Connor would send out a group text saying he was going to visit you. Roman, at least, knew what that meant: you got into trouble and needed someone to clean up a mess you made. Everyone had grown up and adjusted as well as to be expected. They were waiting, impatiently, for you to catch up in maturity. You were a teenager expected to act like an adult, treated like a child. You begged Logan to come home. Your school was far away. It was lonely. It was brutal. But it was the best education anyone could ask for and he believed you were being a brat.

You wanted to see your mother. It had been years, at that point, since you last saw her. Occasionally you’d receive a cold phone call, but that was all you were allotted. That’s the story, anyways. No one really knows why you went out that night, why it was so urgent, only that you were drinking and you weren’t wearing a seatbelt. They found the car wrapped around a pole. You took your place in the family mausoleum. As far as he knows, your mother doesn’t visit. But they do, all of them. This was years ago, a little over a decade. You’d be all grown up by now. He still sees you as a ten year old. He always will. Maybe he dreams this day, over every other, because it was before everything turned sour. Maybe he just likes the taste of popsicles. Either way, it’s always a treat. He wants to ask you everything he didn’t get the chance to, but he can’t, and soon he will wake up. He’ll wake up in a cold sweat and make a point to visit you sometime soon, taking this as a sign that you’re lonely and looking for company. For now, he looks at you, really looks, and takes you in. You’ve been talking this whole time about what you’ve been learning in school, what Shiv has been helping you with. He will nod. He was bored then, wondering who would take over babysitting duty, but he isn’t now. He soaks up every word. He misses your voice, your mannerisms. So much has changed since this day. So little has changed, too.

#writing #roman roy #roman roy oneshot #roman roy drabble #roman roy fic #roman roy x reader #succession #succession drabble #succession oneshot #succession fic #succession x reader #two death #death tw #death mention

22 notes · View notes

georgeclarkewifey · 3 days

Text

Inconvenience | g.clarke

Chapter 4: Tough Day

Summary: The boys try and help Noa with a new project

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: swearing, George being a dick (again)

Roughly a week or so had passed since Noa moved into her new apartment, and her hopes that George would warm up to her hadn’t been achieved yet.

Even though she spent most evenings with the boys, he would still only talk to her if the others were there, and whenever he could he avoided her at all costs.

It was beginning to bother Noa. She couldn’t understand why he was acting this way towards her, and after thorough discussions with his other roommates, they confirmed that she hadn’t done or said anything to cause this behaviour.

Luckily, Arthur Hill and her got on like a house on fire, and being one of the better housemates at DIY, he aided in building most of her new furniture whenever he wasn’t recording a video or working on his new song.

“So when’s it coming out? I feel as if I can only listen to the same sound bite before I go crazy.” Noa said, glancing up from her laptop to look at Arthur, who was sitting on her kitchen counter.

“Should be done in a couple of weeks, just trying to iron out the wrinkles and sort the bridge out.” He replied, taking a long swig of tea out of the mug that she had leant him. “What are you working on? I feel as I can hear your brain whirring.”

Noa grumbled and massaged her temples. It was moments like these that she wished she had an influencer job, with complete creative freedom and a flexible schedule, instead of her gruelling 9-6. “Trying to find as many different types of ancient column design as possible. Well, not too ancient because the clients want their building to look modern enough.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look. “You really are bottom of the food chain in your firm aren’t you?”

“Yep. That’s what you get when you’re the new kid, all the tasks that no one else wants.”

“But at least you’re not having to make coffee and do paperwork right?” He asked hopefully.

Noa raised her eyebrows at him. “Why do you think I’m having to do this at home, and not in the office.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” She muttered, scrolling through another page of Grecian inspired pillars. “Honestly, sometimes rich people have too much money to spend. I mean, who needs a foyer with the three types of alternating pillars, that match the fountains? Do you know how expensive that is Arthur?”

He winced. “I’m guessing a lot.”

“Correct.”

“Noa!” Chris yelled, swinging the door open. “You, me, George and the two Arthurs and the club. Yes?”

“Chris, it’s a Thursday night.”

“Exactly! Thursday night, do you have anything better to do?”

Noa blinked at him. “Be up in the morning with ample amount of sleep ready for work?”

“God I forget you have a boring actual job.”

“Someone has to remind you guys there’s an actual world out there.” She muttered, typing quickly on her computer, eyes widening as her stomach let out a low growl.

Chris and Arthur slowly turned their heads to look at her. “Okay, new plan. Order takeout and watch a movie?”

“I could be up for that.” She said quietly, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen, before going to jot down some notes. “Just need to finish working.”

Chris’ eyebrows raised. “And when will that be?”

“Before the end of time.” Noa said. “Or at least I hope so. I’ve gotta figure out the best combination of these pillars and then I’ll be done.”

“And how many combinations are there?”

“Well there’s eight main types, but then there’s different patterns within those. I might have actually lost count.”

Chris moved so that he could peer over Noa’s shoulder, and winced at the number of tabs open she had on her computer, as well as the scribbles that adorned her notebook.

“Gonna be honest. I’ve got no clue at what looks good. But I believe in you Noa, if anyone could figure it out it’s you.” He said reassuringly, patting her head. “Right, Hill let’s order food, at this point in time Noa will probably eat whatever we put in front of her, so what are we feeling up for?”

arthurhill

liked by arthurtv, maxbalegde and 28,039 others

arthurhill everyone drop your favourite pillars and columns to help with Noa’s latest design

Comments open

fan1 everyone knows the correct answer is doric

⮑ fan2 booo temple of winds supremacy

maxbalegde scared and confused at this comment section

⮑ noamurphy they’re all just architecture nerds like me

arthurtv correct answer is ionic

⮑ noamurphy no it isn’t I promise

⮑ arthurtv one day you’ll see

⮑ noamurphy sure. also we’re getting take out if you wanna join

⮑ arthurtv I am running to the elevator

fan3 noa in the ikea vlog is everything 😫🤌🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 she is a divine queen

⮑ fan3 her and George in the bed 🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 nooo that was the most forced and uncomfortable thing I couldn’t with it-

gkbarry_ we stan a hardworking queen

⮑ noamurphy love you boo

⮑ gkbarry_ okay now girlie take a break

“Okay Noa, maybe take Grace’s advice and stop? Surely it would be better to rest up and then be able to finish it when you’re not exhausted?” Chris asked gently, reaching to slide the laptop away from her grip.

Noa glared at him and swatted his hands away. “No Christopher. No.”

Chris gave her a stern look, only looking away when the door slammed open again, revealing Arthur Television in his pyjama trousers and hoodie. “Food, when?”

“The one with the law degree decides to speak like a caveman.” Chris muttered, shaking his head, as a much calmer George walked through the door.

Walking into her apartment, George was hit with the realisation that he’d never been in Noa’s apartment before - she’d always been at theirs, or if Chris and Arthur where heading down he’d give the excuse that he was busy planning videos.

He was pleasantly surprised. Well, he didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t a light and airy apartment. Maybe he thought there would be neon lights everywhere, like the ones that adorned Chris’ room or stacks of books like Arthur.

The living room was cosy, and he recognised the two sofas that they had picked out in Ikea, as well as a plush rug, with a coffee table that matched the dining table and chairs. A couple of pictures adorned the walls, a simple beach watercolour as well as some cinematic shots of her playing football with Arthur and Chris.

His brow furrowed. Neither of them mentioned that she played, and since she’d arrived they had filmed a football video for Chris’ channel, but she didn’t take part. Surely if Noa was good enough to warrant her to have photos of her playing, then surely Chris would want that talent in his videos?

George cast his eyes to Noa, who was hunched over her laptop, still trying to finish the designs. Arthur TV sat next to her, and the pair were discussing which column designs worked the best together.

“Maybe that person was onto something bringing temple of winds into the conversation…what if you put them with some Doric pillars, then…” Arthur trailed off, stumped.

“You see? Finding two designs that go together is easy, but a third? A fucking third?” Noa sighed, resting her head on the keyboard.

“How rich are the clients, ie, what’s the budget?”

“Yeah, are they Ronaldo rich, or so rich that you’ve probably never heard of them?” Arthur Hill asked.

“The second one.” She muttered. “Which is why it has to be perfect, because they are paying us a lot.”

Noa sighed and pulled up the designs of the fountains that had been chosen. She studied them meticulously, trying to find a hint that could help her. Even though it was strenuous work, this was one of the reasons that loved designing buildings, once you found all the right pieces, it perfectly fell into place like a puzzle. It was incredibly satisfying, and seeing the final projects always made her heart swell with pride.

But this was really trying her patience. Why couldn’t she figure it out? It didn’t also help that she had a live audience watching her stress over it. “Do you know when the food’s getting here?”

“Should be about five minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“Oh never mind, the guys here.” Chris said, slipping his shoes on, that had been previously abandoned by the door. “Arthur can you help carry it?”

“Sure.” Both of them replied, following Chris out of the door, leaving George alone with Noa.

She was silently cursing the three that had just left, physically wishing all the curses and ailments upon them for leaving her with George. Who, was silently leaning against her kitchen counter.

George didn’t know what to do. Ever since the trip to Ikea he hadn’t been close to Noa again, not that he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if he should mention it. Why should he? If she hadn’t mentioned it then surely she was fine, right?

Not that he even wanted to talk to her.

George couldn’t fully see into Noa’s room, most is it being blocked by the angle at which he was looking in, and from what he could tell, it was just like the rest of the apartment, except with more decorations. He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious about what was inside, how Noa had organised her bookcase, what perfumes she used, how she kept her jewellery, the way her plans laid out on her sketching desk.

And he didn’t know why.

As far as he was concerned he actively disliked Noa, and so he couldn’t fathom why a part of him was so interested in her, why he wanted to know the little details of her life.

Noa closed her eyes. She was genuinely considering giving up, but she knew she couldn’t. This had to be finished that evening so that it could be sent to her supervisor ready for the next morning. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and paced into her bedroom, unknown to her that George’s eyes followed her every step, hoping that one of her books would provide her with some inspiration.

But it wasn’t any of her architecture books that caught her eye. It was the battered copy of the third Percy Jackson book - it was her favourite of the series, and would read it religiously as a child. Partially, as a child it was her dream to become a Hunter of Artemis, and so she could read the book over and over again without tiring of it.

Somehow, this was the prompt she needed to let the puzzle pieces fall into place. “OH MY GOD!” She exclaimed, sprinting out of her room and skidding on the wooden floor to the table. Noa grinned whilst nearly destroying her keyboard at how quickly she was typing.

“FOOOOD!” Chris called, carrying the plastic bags and setting them down in front of Noa.

“Dude give me two minutes I’ve figured it out.”

“Really?” Arthur TV asked excitedly, pulling the chair next to her out, so he could see what she was working on. “Caryatids? Noa that’s genius! They match the f-“

“Fountains yeah, because they’ve got marble women carved into them, and so they’d match perfectly.”

“Have we ever said you’re a genius?” Chris asked, smiling proudly at her.

“Only when I do genius shit.”

#arthur frederick #arthur hill #chris dixon #chris md #george clarke fics #george clarke imagine #george clarkey #george clarkey x reader #uk youtubers #youtube

25 notes · View notes