#and patching is coming along great >:}

[eclecticopposition]

secret samol is HAPPENING baby

[thornsnvultures]

Daffodils

You make me think of: gentle, steady hands tucking a lock of hair behind someone's ear / early springtime mornings; a chilly breeze and pale sunlight trickling through the green leaves swaying overhead, the hair of tall trees / the first kiss of hope after a gloomy winter / sunny smiles / white lace / cheerful music playing in the distance, reaching your ears just slightly / honey dripping slowly from a teaspoon, golden in color and thick in texture / picnic blankets & straw baskets overflowing with fresh fruits and crusty bread and jars of jam / a kindness that radiates / custard / the smell of thyme & rosemary & vanilla

what type of flower are you

[peanutalergy]

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “–managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

[syoddeye]

sliding scale

You're in need of a handyman. He has needs of his own. cw: discussion of kids/pregnancy, john price inserting himself into your life, heavily implied breeding kink, unsettling and smutless (my brand)

You win the jackpot. Okay. Not the jackpot, but you're hit by a respectable windfall. It's like a cheesy movie you'd watch around the holidays: A distant relative dies, you receive a very serious letter, and suddenly, your account isn't as sad as it once was.

So, you do the impossible. The unthinkable. You buy a house.

An old, well-loved house from an elderly couple.

The day you close, they tell you about raising their kids in the house and mention the names etched on the door frame. When you arrive home that evening, the empty house feels grand and hollow, but there they are, just where they said. Names climbing upward in uneven increments, faded with time, but legible. You trace your finger along the marks, imagining small hands and the measuring tape, the years slipping by. It makes you smile, despite yourself.

You've never wanted kids, not really, but the thought of this, people leaving bits of themselves behind—it makes you mushy. You figure, once the dust settles, you'll let rooms to friends, maybe friends of friends. Start a fun little commune of sorts, a collective of people coming and going.

The first night, you drink nonalcoholic wine straight from the bottle and lie on your mattress on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There's no furniture yet, just your overnight bag and the smell of fresh paint from a patch you tested on the living room wall. You fall asleep smiling. The house needs a lot of work, but you're not worried. Some TLC and elbow grease can go a long way.

Over the next few weeks, you move in and start working. Anything is possible with the power of YouTube tutorials and the local tool library.

You start in the primary bedroom and bathroom, learning to tile, install flooring, and connect plumbing for the perfect vanity and sink you found at a thrift store. It feels good to learn how things fit together and see the fruits of your labor. At night, you sleep in one of the old kid's rooms. The wallpaper is covered in rockets and planets. A couple of glow-in-the-dark stars cling to the ceiling.

The bathroom comes together wonderfully, and you feel invincible.

But then you get to the kitchen.

After an outlet zaps you, you decide you may be in over your head. That there really is a limit to what one person can do on their own. You start looking up local contractors, but everything is out of your budget. You've been doing all the work yourself for a reason. Then, after digging for ages, you find a promising lead: John Price - Handyman - Sliding Scale.

On the phone, John seems normal. Charming. Funny. He tells you he's impressed you bought a house on your own. (You've heard that a lot lately, and while it feels patronizing, you let it go. You did jump up a band upon inheriting your chunk of Great Uncle Leroy's money.) He agrees to come by and see what he can do.

You have to admit he makes a good impression when he shows up. He's punctual, polite, and looks the part. Broad chest, thick arms, big hands resting on his hips as he surveys the kitchen. After only a few minutes, he says he'll take the job. No hesitation.

You explain your tight budget and that you'll work alongside him when you're not at your day job. You show him the money you've set aside, expecting him to back out, but he just shakes his head and nudges the folder back across the table.

"Said I'd do it. Don't you fret, darl."

You vet him afterward, just to be sure. His references check out. The reviews are solid. He appears to know a little about everything. You text him to confirm, formally offering the job, and he accepts.

On the first day, you let him in and immediately have to avert your eyes. You didn't realize a toolbelt could look like that on someone. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, and the way he moves—confident, purposeful—makes you grateful you're heading out to work. You tell him when you'll be back and leave quickly, gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual thinking about the hunk of man in your house.

When you return, the kitchen looks different, unfinished, but vastly improved. John's already fixed things you didn't think could be fixed. Over lunch, he even scoped out other problems around the house: a crack in the basement wall, a loose board on the stairs, and spots where the flooring must be replaced. He gushes about the house, praising its character, the way it's held up over time.

John's face grows serious, and stares down his nose when he finally asks, "You're not gonna ask me to paint over the wood or rip out the built-in hutch, are ya?"

His relief over your answer is palpable: No. That's why you bought the house in the first place. You describe what you love about it: the glass doorknobs, the dining room archway, and transom windows above the doors. He nods. He knows exactly what you mean.

Before he leaves for the day, he stops at the doorframe and points to the tallest name etched into the wood. You explain it belonged to the previous owners, a family with seven kids.

"Seven," he repeats, eyebrows raised.

"Right? Can you believe that? Seven!" You laugh. Frankly, anything more than two sounds insane. 

But John doesn't laugh. He stares at the names for a moment, his jaw tight. "Yeah. Difficult to imagine."

After he leaves, you scold yourself. You don't really know John. You've known him for all of a day. What if he came from a big family? Or what if he doesn't speak to his family anymore, if things are complicated with his parents? You feel awful, and the guilt channels itself into stress-baking.

The next morning, when he shows up, there's a platter of breakfast pasties waiting on the counter. He hesitates, looks almost bashful, until you insist. He takes a bite, then another, and looks at you with genuine astonishment. He says if you leave food like this every morning, he'll knock his rate down even further.

It makes sense, financially speaking, so you agree. You start making breakfast for two, and in return, he keeps the repairs affordable. The ritual becomes routine: John shows up every weekday morning, you eat together, he gets to work, and you leave. You look forward to seeing him. Hearing his voice rumble out good mornings and goodnights.

For two weeks, you come home to find steady progress on the kitchen. You help him out for an hour or two in the evenings, and by the time it's nearly finished, you've started discussing other parts of the house.

You mention the two smallest children's rooms aren't really usable for tenants. You show him your plans to knock down the wall between them and create a library or office space.

But this time, John doesn't agree.

"First I'm hearing of this," He leans back in his chair at your table. His arms cross over his chest, legs spreading wide. Even sitting, you see what he's doing. Trying to take a posture that carries authority, to cow you. "Tenants? What about a family?"

You try to steer the conversation back to your plans, to the picture you've sketched. "I'm not planning on having one. So, like I was saying—"

"Why buy a house this big, then? Why spend all this time fixin' it up if you're not planning to honor its legacy?"

The tone of his voice shifts completely, with no trace of the easy, flirty banter that's been your norm for weeks. His words drip with disdain. His brow knits together. Nostrils flaring. He looks genuinely upset. Mystified that you're not going to fill the house with your…your brood.

It's as if your refusal to have children is an affront to him personally. 

It sends a chill down your spine. Instantly, your image of him—this dependable, good-humored man—cracks apart. You glance past him, searching for the right words, and focus on the kitchen instead. The cabinets, the fixtures, the paint. All of it bears his mark now, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

The realization settles like a stone in your stomach. You can't keep working with him. Not if your plans for the house, your house, are going to be a problem.

You tell him as much, as gently as possible.

His anger bleeds out of him quickly, melting into embarrassment and shame. His shoulders drop, and he folds into himself in a way that seems almost impossible for someone his size. "Don't know what came over me, darl."

He packs up his tools while apologizing again, both for his outburst and for the unfinished work, and gives you the spare key you lent to him for emergencies. Before he leaves, he asks you not to write a review, not even a positive one, and you agree. Things had been good until now. You don't want to ruin him over this. People have bad days.

With the kitchen functional and nothing too big left on your plate, you cut your losses and decide to finish the work alone.

Progress is slow on your own, of course. One pair of hands, only so many hours after work to chip away at the list after work. Still, time moves faster than you expect. You push through exhaustion, head often swimming, and work late into the evenings. One night, you finish patching the floor and tackle the basement's cracked wall. Only when you get down there, it's already done. Smoothed over perfectly.

You tell yourself John must've fixed it before everything went south. But then you notice other things. Several odd jobs from your list are already complete.

Squeaky door hinges turn silent. The dings and nail holes in the walls, spackled over. The second toilet that kept running starts working correctly. It's partly a relief, like the house is taking care of itself, but also deeply unsettling. You don't remember doing it, you've never sleepwalked or slept-repair in your life, even in your overtired state, and you're still too sore over your falling out to text John and ask if he did it all.

Instead, you decide to take a break. A few days off work, a proper rest. Let the house settle, let yourself breathe. Nothing happens. No floating tools. No ghosts. It's like the house is waiting for you to look away.

Paranoia sets in. You order cameras—indoor and outdoor, enough to cover every angle.

The day they arrive, you barely make it through the door before tearing open the box. But something stops you. Your eyes catch on a strange wooden box sitting on the dining table. It's a shadowbox.

Inside the box is the slat from the front doorframe, the one with the heights and names of the seven kids who grew up here. It's been cut out, perfectly, and framed like an artifact.

Your stomach drops. You scramble to the doorframe and run your hands over it, frantic. The patchwork is seamless, so clean it's like the names never existed.

Then you notice the boots. Tucked in and lined up next to your own pairs. The extra jacket hanging on the hooks.

A shadow falls over you.

You freeze, heart in your throat, and slowly turn with eyes the size of dinner plates. Towering above you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fists planted on his hips, is John. Grinning.

"Work alright today?" He bends down and pulls you to your feet by your wrist, wrapping you up in an embrace and welcoming you home. He sways slightly with you, like you're dancing, his chest rising and falling against yours. He looks at you with a clear fondness and affection, but there's something off, like a splintering foundation. Stable until you look too close.

You try to push yourself away, palms flat against his chest, but he doesn't let go. "What are—What are you doing here? What are—Why did you do that?" You glance again toward where the measurements used to be.

He chuckles, soft and unbothered, a wistfulness threaded in his words. "Well, we're gonna need the room for our little ones, yeah? Oh, we'll have seven or more, dependin' on what takes. Sliding scale and all that."

At your stunned, horrified silence, he slots a hand into the back pocket of your jeans. He gives your cheek a little squeeze and starts steering you toward the kitchen. The one he built for you.

"C'mon. Lemme tell you all about my plans for us."

[moechies]

geto and thigh highs 👙🍋‍🟩

geto who goes mute when he sees you in thigh highs.

poor boy nearly dies , face visibly flushed as you sit so prettily for him on the edge of your guy’s bed, body covered in a skimpy outfit and lacy thigh highs.

he crawls atop of you, taking the phone out of your hands and making you face him. he fidgets at the soft fabric, groping the soft fat of your thighs squeezed by the sock.

“suguru.. stop it..” you writhe underneath his perverted touches.

“where d’ya think you’re going like this baby? hm?”

“was just gonna meet up with some friends, sugu.”

“mm, i don’t think so.”

“ what ? why not.! “

he pulls his body off of yours, sat in between your thighs with your legs dangling over his. he pulls up your shirt, revealing your soft tummy and a great sliver of your tits, causing you to squeal in surprise.

“eek— stop it you perv..!”

“oh baby, i’ll show you ‘perv.’ ”

his arm comes down to lift your leg over his shoulder, leaving soft bites along the fat of your thigh. his kisses draw lower, fingers tracing against the lace of your thigh once again. he refuses to break his eye contact, nothing could beat watching your cute face, he thinks.

“lay still honey, you’re squirmin’ too much.”

“s-sorry!”

he grins, head lowering towards your panty clad cunt. he lifts up your skirt, pressing kisses into the slicked up patch accompanied by non-stop gropes to your body.

“y’look so fuckin’ pretty, so fuckin’ pretty with these thigh highs on. my girl.”

you let out a moan of pleasure at his honey words, surely he would pick it up as a ‘thank you.’ you accidentally buck your hips towards his face, eager to let the man take action.

“heh, baby wants me here?”

he pulls the panty aside by a single finger, his tongue taking a long stripe of your slicked up cunt. he feels you throb against him, pressing another feverent kiss onto the bare flesh.

“baby’s so desperate. y’want it? want suguru to make you feel sooo good?”

“p-please—, please…”

“oh sweet girl.” he laughs, tongue dipping into the sweetness of your cunt.

[tojisun]

john price x reader; minimal plot but it’s daddy issues and making out and just yk the sorts; mini religious analogy

it starts with a tap to the mouth—john's thumb rough against your glossy lips. he tips your head up just enough so that you can meet his eyes, crinkled in his deep smile and shining with the depths of his desire.

his adoration is palpable, rippling from his body in burning waves. it makes you feel small in the softest of ways; like you are being tucked into the pockets of his chest, wedged within the spaces of his ribs.

it makes you ache, your body racked with shivers.

no one has ever loved you this way. no one was ever this devoted—all-consuming and scorching in the way it strips the world into nothing, leaving it bare, all for you to use. to yield. to pick apart and abandon, as you see fit.

john looks at you like you're all that matters.

the tears spring up before you could stop them, prickling the backs of your eyes until they trickle down the slopes of your cheeks. you hear john's breath stutter, his hand twitching from where it's cupping your jaw, before it drags up to the side of your temple, thumb swiping at the patch of skin just underneath your eye.

"shh," he rumbles, a gentle coo. "y've got nothin' to be sad about, sweetheart."

you sniffle, ducking your gaze away, turning shy. it makes him chuckle, his voice passing through his teeth with such fondness, it fills you up with warmth; cascading down your spine, setting you ablaze alive.

“now, then,” john says, tapping the apple of your cheek. “won’t you come here an’ kiss me?”

his voice is thick and sticky with his own need, rumbling in that sort of tone that always makes your thighs squeeze shut. you nod, not knowing what else is there to say, and slide to his lap. he helps you throughout—rough palms perched on your hips as he pulls you close, adjusting ever so slightly, until your chest is snug against his and his breaths are hitting your chin.

john is so warm like this, or is it you? burning with the fever of your own desires that it buzzes into your skin and etching him with it?

whatever it may be, he presses close, dragging his palms from the meat of your hips to your back, mapping along the expanse of your skin like he’s truly feeling you; like he’s truly grounding himself through you.

you let out a shaky breath. john mirrors it.

and, finally, the two of you meet in between. the kiss is soft, careful, then it is cataclysmic. he devours your every gasps, his beard scratching against your chin as he kisses and nips and licks.

it is so debauched; sinful in the way you moan into his mouth and john swallows it whole; destructive in the way that his kisses chase the burn from your lips and force them through your synapses, leaving your nerves to moan a song until the pleasure burrows in your core—thrumming and building, your nub hardening slowly; teasingly; more.

more. moremoremore—

“john,” you gasp out, fingers tugging at his hair. “john, i want–!”

“shh,” he rumbles, pulling away just enough to press his forehead to yours. “i’ve got you, peanut. i’ve got you.”

his words douse you in the holy flames because you feel—

absolved.

you feel forgiven. you feel loved.

oh.

“please,” you hiccup, crying out again. and john pulls you in, even closer, and closer, until you no longer know where you end and where he begins.

please—

“i’ve got you,” john repeats like it is a prayer; a testimony. “i’m here f’r you.”

and you fall into him, so trusting. so faithful.

so devoted.

so small in his greatness.

[lieslab]

War of hearts

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: An argument with your boyfriend leads to you trying to prove a point.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I'm back to writing requests and Minho is so black cat coded and this request felt like a great way to show that off. Thank you for requesting it, requestee <3

_ _ _

“This is all your fault,” Minho mumbled from the driver’s seat. Beside you, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared into the distance. 

“My fault? This is my fault? Maybe if you wouldn’t have driven over a pile of glass in the middle of the street and went around it, we wouldn’t be sitting here stuck.” 

“And maybe you should have put back my spare tire after you hijacked the one I had.” 

“Fuck off!” You snapped angrily. “Is it too much to want to spend time with you? You’ve been so busy, all I wanted was one date with my-” 

“And what kind of date is a movie? When we sit there at the screen, ignoring each other, pretending we’re enjoying our time together when we’re not? You’re bullshiting yourself.” 

He leaned over to look at you. “If you would have waited until this weekend, I would have taken you out properly. Not to some stupid cheesy romance movie. I could have taken you out to dinner and we would have had a decent time together, but you’re about as stubborn as a goddamn mule.” 

Your fists curled and your nostrils flared. Your blood boiled and in that moment, you hated him. You hated Minho and his perpetual need for razor-sharp truths. The arrogance that rolled off him in acidic waves when he grew angry. 

You didn’t know how glass scattered all over the road, but you knew a piece embedded itself in one of the front tires. An angry hiss filled the air and he heard it because his window was down. He pulled over along the side of the road to find his tire slowly deflating. A sharp shard, covered in dust and grime, protruded from the tire. 

At first, he considered patching the hole, but then he realized he didn’t have his tire patching kit. He gave it to Changbin when he hit a nail coming into the company’s parking lot. He headed around to the trunk to find a spare, but the empty space mocked him. Too swept up in life, you hadn’t replaced the spare. Your own car suffered from a flat two weeks ago. You replaced it, but you’d forgotten to replace the spare in the back of his car. 

It sat at home, back behind the house, hidden away against the far wall of the garage. You planned on getting to it, but you hadn’t. Both of you were following your own career paths. It remained forgotten about and when you did remember, Minho had his car out and about. A never ending cycle that happened to catch up with you today. 

So the both of you sat stuck in the car. An empty field to your left and your right. Craving something new, you wanted to go to the theater in another town. It sounded good, but now you were stuck here. Minho called a company to tow the vehicle, but they said it could be a while before someone arrived. 

To make it worse, wind pushed gray misery-stained clouds above your heads. Your phone vibrated with a notification five minutes ago. A thunderstorm swept your way and the two of you were trapped in the middle of nowhere. You wanted to call someone to come get the two of you, but Minho refused. 

Too stubborn and upset, he sat there glaring at everything, like the empty fields with tangled weed patches that pulsed with fine lines of dirt. Freshly plowed, they awaited a new batch of seeds and another growing season from farmers’ calloused hands. The rolling skies, hung with spring humidity, and scented with an approaching ozone. 

He even glared at you and that hurt the worst. Too stressed and frustrated, sometimes he lashed out. He didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but he couldn’t manage the whirlpool of his own. They built up and spiraled, raining down on both of you, and soaking you with misery. In the eye of his own storm, he didn’t know how to stop. 

He never meant the words, but they came out and cracked through the atmosphere. Your physical feelings, they became an afterthought more than anything. You sat here, letting his words soak your brain, causing you to feel worse. 

At first, it was a lingering hurt and a brush of sadness. His hand balled into a fist and slammed into the car horn. A sharp thud and brief beep. You flinched, sucking in a sharp breath. Hot tears built behind your eyes and then you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t put the stupid fucking tire back, but I’m not sorry for wanting to watch a stupid cheesy romantic film with my boyfriend. I wanted to watch it with you because I hoped it’d remind you of what we’re supposed to have. So if that makes me a terrible and awful person then-” 

“Are you seriously making yourself the victim in this scenario?” 

“Go to hell, Minho.” 

“If that means I’m away from you and your childish tantrum, then it will be my pleasure.” 

You reached over, grabbed your car handle, and shoved the door open. You didn’t look to see if there was traffic, you just acted. Impulsive. Reckless. Foolish. Minho called after you, but you slammed the door, cutting off his words. 

Your phone sat in the back of your jeans. Dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you started to walk back from the direction you came. Minho watched you from the rearview mirror of his car and huffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

He shoved his door open and stuck his head from the car. “Where the hell are you going? Get back here!” 

“I’m going home!” 

“You’re going to be soaked and catch a cold.” 

“I don’t care.” You kept walking, not bothering to turn towards him.

“So you’re walking away? What is this? Your way of breaking up with me?” 

“Sure. Happily. Consider this my good-bye.” You reached behind you and flashed him the middle finger. 

“You are such a brat.” 

“And you’re an asshole.” 

“You know what? Fine. Fine! You want to act childish? Go ahead. Have fun walking home. Don’t bother coming back into the car.” He jerked open the door, shoved himself inside, and slammed it shut so hard, it rattled the vehicle. 

Grumbles filled the interior. He glared at the sky once more, cursing the slow tow-truck. He flipped off the pile of glass on the opposite side of the road. Despite his anger, he kept an eye on your wavering form in his rearview mirror. 

He was right about one thing, you were stubborn as a mule. 

~ ~ ~ 

You lost track of your trek. One foot in front of another. One step and then another and then another and then another. Icy rain fell from the gates of heaven at some point. It restricted your view and left you feeling like a disoriented victim of waterboarding. 

Could a person drown while walking through the rain? Ice soaked your skin. It slipped down your bare arms. Your t-shirt clung to your torso. By the time you made it home, you’d barely be able to free yourself from the jeans. 

You walked and walked and walked. Along that barren road, the fields ended a distance ago. How far had you walked? One mile? Five? You didn’t know anything, but the distant roar of thunder and the occasional flash of lightning from the corner of your eye. The further you went, the more you wished you would have shut up and stayed in Minho’s car. 

The leather padded seats with the seat warmers. You could have played a game on your phone, or fell asleep while you waited. He would have cooled off and apologized. Things would have gotten better. Neither of you got into fights all the time, but when they happened, they were nasty. 

He probably blew up your phone in your back pocket. You weren’t going to answer it. Would your phone die in the rain? Was there service here? Empty sprouts of faded yellow grass. Someone either forgot to fertilize, the soil was bad, or the grass had been soaked in something that killed its growth. Regardless, puke yellow wasn’t a great color to look at while you shivered from rain. 

Your fingers shook and your teeth chattered. Droopy eyes and a tipped head. You hadn’t seen a car since you left him. Nobody passed by, so nobody stopped to ask you if you were okay. You shivered uncontrollably, quivering, trying to keep your organs warm. Why did cold rain do that? It chilled you to the bone. 

Occasionally, a foot nearly slipped out from beneath you. Soaked grass and the sopping wet bottoms of your rubber soles didn’t help. Wind picked up and your eyes squeezed shut. The direction of the downpour changed and flicked to the side. You jerked to the side, trying to hide your face from the unforgiving water. It soaked the side of your head instead. 

Beneath the roar of the untethered storm, a humming engine. You pulled back from the road, hoping the driver could see through frantic windshield wipes. You were a good distance away from the road, so hopefully, they wouldn’t hit you. With a sniffle, you stepped back further. 

An engine idled and a window rolled. “Get in the car, you idiot. You’re soaked and working on catching a cold.” 

“Leave me alone, Minho. I’m fine. I’m going home. I’ll get there at some point.” 

“There are flood warnings and the wind is supposed to increase. Get in the car, so we can go home. Don’t make me get out of this car and come get you.” 

“I thought the car was getting towed.” 

“The guy had a patch kit, so I asked him if he could patch it instead.” 

You sniffled and wiped at your face. It didn’t do anything, besides smear more water all over you. Turned away from his car, you still hadn’t faced him. He called your name and you hesitated, but finally spun around. Your eyes sat teary and red. 

“Come on,” his voice softened, “come back so you can get warm.” 

Your head tipped in defeat and you finally nodded. He pressed the unlock button and the doors clicked open. You headed around to the passenger’s seat and climbed inside. He didn’t lecture you for getting rain water everywhere. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke after a few moments of silence. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you for something so stupid. I know I haven’t been the best significant other lately.” 

You stayed silent, blinking rapidly, and staring out the window. Freezing cold, your bottom lip trembled, partly because you were trying not to cry, and because you felt miserable. Your sass-filled ego had taken a nosedive as well. You were nearly twenty minutes from home by car, walking home would have taken forever. 

The gear shift moved and Minho turned the wheel. You both rode in silence until he broke it again. “When we get home, do you want to order takeout? We can get food and watch one of those romance movies from a streaming service.” 

“We don’t have to.” 

“I want to. I want to make up for being so…” 

“Dickish?” 

“Dickish, yeah. I don’t want to break up with you. I’ve never wanted to break up with you. I’ve been having a horrible time lately, but I see that I need to manage it better. You shouldn’t have felt that you had to walk alone in a thunderstorm.” 

“I don’t want to break up with you either. I should be apologiz-” 

“Don’t do that. Calling me names was valid. I deserved that.” His fingers gripped tighter around the wheel. He flicked the turn signal and let out a sigh. “I deserve far more than that, honestly, but I’m glad I found you.” 

“If I go home and dry off, can we cuddle?” 

He glanced over, letting his eyes catch yours. “Is that what you want?” 

“I mean, you don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it.” 

“When was the last time we held each other?” 

You shrugged, unsure of the answer. 

“Okay, but if you try to tickle me, I’m going to bite you.” 

A small smile quipped up from the side of your lips. “I’m not going to tickle you. Not tonight, I don’t think I have it in me.” You reached a hand for his empty one, wanting to hold it. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

He let his fingers slip through yours, relishing in the coolness of your palm, silently thanking the universe that the rain washed away your temporary anger and he didn’t have to hog-tie you to get you back home.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[pseudowho]

"Hey! Nanamin, Mrs.Nanamin?"

You and Kento looked up at Yuuji from your places on the sofa; you, with your cross-stitch and your tongue between your teeth, and Kento looking over his newspaper and reading glasses. Yuuji dried his hands, having washed the final dish.

He grinned, ruffling stray bubbles into the back of his hair, and tapped away on his phone. Kento's phone buzzed, and he picked it up, looking at the screen.

"It's my birthday next week--"

"--dont worry, Yuuji, we know--"

"--and I'm just gonna have a little party in the Jujutsu High forest. Gojo says it's okay, thought you two could come along. I've qjust sent you the deets."

As Yuuji walked off to his room, you looked up at Kento, who read the invitation in increasing confusion, a dismayed little hum rumbling out of his throat.

"What? What is it?" You asked around the needle pinched between your teeth, leaning closer to peer at Kento's phone.

"The party..." Kento hummed.

"...the party...?"

"Apparently it's going to be 'dank'."

"Oh...sounds unsanitary."

Kento hummed again. "Quite. Though perhaps if we bring our best 'rizz', Yuuji thinks the party will be 'bussin'. Even better, if our outfits 'slay', he'll be 'highkey' excited."

You frowned, then scoffed, calling down the hallway.

"Hey, Yuuji? This invitation..."

"Yeah?" He shouted back, "What about it?"

"Have you had a stroke?"

Yuuji laughed, unabashed, and walked out in his pyjamas, grinning. "Nah, for real for real, it'll be great. No cap."

You and Kento looked at Yuuji like he'd grown an extra head. Yuuji laughed again, and got a glass of water before bidding them goodnight, scoffing as he went into his room;

"Millennials."

You and Kento sat in stunned silence in the lamplight. Kento looked at your cross-stitch and fluffy socks. He felt his reading glasses on his head, his newspaper forgotten in his lap, and you seemed to be thinking the same, before asking him in quiet horror:

"Kento...are--are we old?"

Another dismayed hum, from beside you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The 20th of March arrived; a balmy spring evening. The sun was setting as you and Kento approached the forest at Jujutsu High, seeing the flicker of flames in a great firepit, hearing music and laughter, and clinking glass.

Panda tossed bottles of drink across the floating crowd; Maki and Megumi caught theirs seamlessly, and Nobara fumbled hers to the tune of laughter, her eye patch replacing her depth perception.

The birthday boy bustled around, accepting claps on the back, gifts and well-wishes, his hair turned coral in the dying sun. He looked up as you and Kento approached, looking happier still.

Yuuji softened at Kento's smile, accepting a gift with the promise of 'more at home'. Kento patted Yuuji on the shoulder, looking him up and down.

"Looking good, Yuuji. On fleek."

Yuuji faltered, unsure. "Oh, on...?"

Kento turned to you, only marginally irritated when Gojo joined your group. As the conversation grew between you, Kento and Gojo, Yuuji looked more and more sidelined, eventually fumbling for his phone, his trusty translator.

"Went to talk to the higher-ups today--

"Ugh! Adulting."

"-- legit. Looked over their new hashtag 'Student Protection Policies', and they were so fucking basic--"

You and Kento scoffed as Gojo continued, and Yuuji listened on, flicking through the glossary of his mind.

"--so yeah anyway, cheeky humblebrag, but when they told me I couldn't argue, I told them that they'd die of old age before they got a good policy out. Solid clapback, I feel."

You and Kento scoffed, sipping your drinks, answering; "Savage"-- "Woke up ready to throw shade, huh."

The party went on, and Yuuji found himself overhearing more and more of Kento's conversations. Yuuji had a growing list of words on his phone, and increasingly looked at Kento as if he'd been replaced by another man.

Yuuji looked down at his phone, scrolling through the list; he had no answers. He still had no idea what time 'Leet o'clock' was, he'd been called 'dude' at least seven times, and he had lost a game that he hadn't even known he was participating in.

Kento turned back to Yuuji, smiling again at his disgruntled expression, thanking him; "Party's lit, Yuuji. Having fun?"

As Yuuji opened his mouth to argue, you approached, grinning at Yuuji and looping your arm through Kento's; "You alright kiddo? Looking a bit shook."

"I-- what? I don't--"

Kento leaned in to you, talking lowly in your ear; "Just been schooling this boy on the appropriate vernacular. I like to think I'm winning."

You laughed, delighted. "Weird flex but okay."

You melded back into the party ("Oh my god! Megumi's puppers! C'mere boy, who's a good doggo..."), and Yuuji fizzled at Kento, pugnacious.

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

Kento looked at Yuuji with absolute innocence. Yuuji puffed his cheeks out, putting his phone away and stabbing a finger at Kento.

"I'll get you back for this. Just 'cos you two are old."

Kento scoffed again, the barest smirk on his lips. "We're not old. You're just a baby."

"Yeah, yeah, Nanamin. Tell me that again when you stop taking two ibuprofen in the morning 'just in case'."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A cheeky Millennials and Gen Z love letter, written absolutely tongue-in-cheek

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. boothill spending a nice, sunny day on the ranch with his family !

tags. pre-cyborg!boothill x wife!female reader. fluff, one tiny hint of angst. sfw. daughter is adopted. based on boothill’s lore. reader gets called ‘mama/momma’. i shed a tear writing this

“aye, yer getting good, kiddo.” boothill grins as he humors his daughter. he’s sitting on a patch of grass underneath an old tree, with his little girl sitting on his lap. his stetson hat lays low on his head, a piece of straw grass between his teeth.

days like these are the reason why he cherishes life. peaceful days where his wife and kid are the only ones surrounding him. home is where he belongs; with his daughter playing the tiny guitar he made her from scratch.

well—more like she’s beating it up.

“dada! dada!” she squeals as she harshly pats the strings, creating an unsatisfactory sound that would make anyone in the vicinity cringe. though, to boothill the sound is a sign of life. of his beloved child being carefree and happy.

the cowboy runs his fingers through the girl’s locks, admiring the little bundle of joy that’s been bestowed upon him. ever since he took her in, life’s been nothing but joyful. “adorable, ain’t ya?” boothill mumbles to no one in particular.

a warm breeze lifts his bangs ever so slightly, revealing those unique eyes of his. they’re filled with nothing but admiration for his daughter. perhaps also a hint of bittersweet warmth.

she’s growing up so fast.

“honey, dinner’s ready!” your voice makes both boothill and the child look up. boothill’s signature smirk only widens the moment you come out of the main house, wiping your hands off with your apron. you look stunning underneath the orange-ish sky. you’re also a reminder of how good boothill has it.

boothill nods and squeezes his daughter’s cheeks, gaining a small giggle at the touch. the calluses on his hands are a contrast to her smooth skin. the chubbiness in her cheeks is absolutely adorable to the white and black-haired man.

“oh, ya hear that? y’r momma made us some food,” boothill pokes the girl’s sides, which makes her laugh again. his favorite sound. she abandons her guitar and stands up, her legs still somewhat wobbly. she had only recently learnt how to walk on her own after all.

“mama!” the kid repeats, reaching her tiny hands out to your figure in the distance. you smile at the sight and crouch down, spreading your arms as you encourage her to walk towards you.

you nod and let out a small chuckle, “hi, baby! c’mon— come to mama!”

your daughter gasps and tries to find her balance before she sets another step. boothill watches her with a fond smile, his hands ready to catch her if she were to fall. though, there doesn’t seem to be any need for those precautions.

she waddles over to you in no time. her little gasps and pants as she tries to run melt the cowboy’s heart. he gets up and walks behind the tiny girl, a sudden mischievous grin on his face.

“heh,” boothill chuckles before acting like he’s going to run after her and catch her if she doesn’t run away from him, “better run before i catch ya!”

the child takes the light-hearted threat seriously and squeals at the sight of her father figure ‘running’ after her. her legs take her towards you as fast as they can, working overtime to reach the other side of the ranch, “waaaaaah!”

you laugh at the sight of your husband chasing after the little girl. he’s good with children—to your utter surprise. before boothill came home with the abandoned baby, you didn’t know if he’d have the skills to care for children. he is blunt, straightforward and rough in some ways.

however, your worries were soon to be proven wrong. it’s like boothill’s destined to be a girl dad. that’s how well he can get along with your adoptive daughter. it was difficult for him at first, but with some trial and error, he’s turned into a great father figure.

“got’cha!” boothill exclaims as he scoops the small child up in his arms the second she got close to you. he tickles her sides and she squirms—giggling like she’s never done before.

“nooooo!” she tries to protest between laughs, but it seems to be an impossible task. her little legs kick wildly in boothill’s embrace, but he doesn’t let up. he puts her over his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“the food smells good, babe,” boothill whispers and kisses the top of your head. the smell of your delicious cooking makes his mouth water. he pinches your cheek and flashes you that charming grin of his not a second later, “bet it tastes fuckin’ amazing too.”

“language, honey,” you roll your eyes playfully and slap boothill’s bicep as a reminder. he simply shrugs and laughs menacingly.

you walk back with him into the house, one hand of his resting on your waist, whilst the other secures your (still squealing) daughter on his shoulder.

the sun setting gives the sky beautiful colors. orange, purple, yellow and a bit of red. it adds to the beauty of this moment—a family of three living happily ever after on their ranch—with nothing or no one to ruin their lives.

or so they thought.

[hairmetal666]

Steve has done interviews before. Like, a lot of interviews. YouTube, podcasts, print, TV stuff. Not as a brag, or anything, just. He's been an influencer for a long time, for better or worse, and it's part of the deal.

Usually, he's comfortable in front of the camera. Usually, he's poised and well-spoken. But today, this time, sweat pools under his arms and beads along his hairline, the lights beating down on him in a harsh glare.

"Steve Harrington," Murray Bauman crosses his legs, smiles big for the cameras. "It's been a while."

He smiles too, tries to seem like he's not about to have a panic attack. "I've been a little busy."

Murray laughs and it's then that Steve understands how screwed he really is. Murray's show, it's all glitz and glamour on the surface; mixed drinks and hijinks until the celebrity guests lose their inhibitions, admitting things they probably wanted to keep secret.

It's just that, before, Steve didn't have any salacious rumors to worry about, and now--

"You've had a rough year, Steve, yeah?"

"Not my best, for sure." He leans back, tries to seem calm, unbothered.

"I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I think that announcement really took a lot of people by surprise."

His hands clench, but he manages not to shift or bounce his leg. "Thanks for, uh. Yeah. We were also sorry it didn't work out."

Murray nods, face full of sympathy. "You and Nancy, you'd been together since high school? That's almost--what? 15 years?"

"It's--" he clears his throat. "About that long." Steve takes a sip of the drink next to him, an apple martini that's both too sweet and too strong.

"Am I right to assume that you didn't see it coming?"

And isn't that a question? Sure, now in hindsight, he can see the fractures that lead to the end, but six months ago did he--it's all so--what if all along--

"All marriages have rough patches," is what he says. "We just couldn't come out of ours as a couple."

"Do you know what I've found really remarkable about this phase of your life? The content and tone of your videos in the midst of the maelstrom of rumors and gossip didn't change at all. 'Your kids' as you call them, are still as bright and vibrant as ever. You're laughing, dancing, cooking, having a great time."

"I needed that--that normalcy you know? And the kids, they're such an important part of my life, having them around helped."

"Including Nancy's brother, Mike?"

Steve laughs and it's not fake. "Totally including Mike. My relationship with Nancy has nothing to do with my relationship with him."

"He's kind of an antagonist--would you say?--in your videos, though."

"We have conflict sometimes, but it's never serious. We know how to play it up for laughs."

"So, nothing's changed between you?"

"Not at all."

"The cheating rumors." Murray's smile is soft, but all the air still leaves the room.

"What about them?" It's more combative than he means, but--

"Did Nancy cheat on you with Jonathan Byers?"

He swallows and it hurts. She did cheat, is the thing. It's not public information, still only speculation, but--

"You can't believe everything you read, Murray."

"So, she didn't cheat?" There's a glow to Murray's eyes that tells Steve he already knows the answer.

"Like, I said before, marriages are hard. We spent a lot of time apart because of our jobs. It took a toll."

"And she was traveling with Jonathan, yes? He's been her photographer for the past decade, from what I understand."

"They were co-workers, but we're all close. And those rumors didn't help our relationship, for sure. It's--not easy to hear that a bunch of people think your wife and close friend may be having an affair, that people 'ship' them. Even when it's not true, it creates--"

"Tension? Distrust?"

"Both, probably." He takes another drink as he nods. "After a while you do start to wonder if there's truth to it, and you're too ignorant or too--too trusting to see it."

"And it eroded the relationship."

"It certainly didn't help." He takes another drink.

"And how about your relationship with Jonathan's brother, Will. Has that been impacted?"

"Of course not. Never. Whatever happens between Nancy, Jonathan, and I, it has nothing to do with the kids. They know that.

"You talked about it."

"Yes. Extensively."

"I know there's often speculation on the relationship you have with them; if you're really close or it's all for the cameras."

"Murray." He leans forward. "We've talked about this before. I met Dustin through Mike, and the whole group followed. I've known them all since they were 8 years old. They're--I mean, not to be cliche, but they're my family." He sips the last bit of martini.

"And where does Eddie Munson fit into that family?"

The question shouldn't be a surprise, but he almost does a spit take, has to fight to keep it together.

"Eddie?"

"Yes." Murray's smile is chilling. "Your close friend Eddie Munson. Musician. Plays Dungeons and Dragons on YouTube. You made out with him in a music video. Ringing any bells?"

"I'm familiar with Eddie," his grin is rigid. "I don't know what that has to do with my marriage ending."

"Well, the rumors weren't all about Nancy, were they?"

"Eddie and I have--we became mutuals online years and years ago. I used one of his songs in a video and the kids are obsessed with his dnd stuff, so. We've become close."

"Friends?"

"Isn't that implied?"

"After that music video, I don't think so."

Steve rolls his eyes, lets the irritation show for the first time. "He asked me to be in his video. There's nothing scandalous about it."

"What's your relationship with Eddie right now?"

"Like I said, friends."

"Do you want it to be more than that?"

"Eddie's really important to me."

"Is that all?"

"Not really sure what you want me to say here, Murray."

"You were married to a woman for years, but now there are questions about your sexuality."

He grits his teeth. "My sexuality isn't anyone's business aside my own. People can say shit on Twitter all they want, that doesn't mean they know me. But--the end of my marriage--it definitely gave me the space for self-discovery, I guess? In a way I hadn't had before."

"And is Eddie a part of that self-discovery?"

"Yeah, as one of my closest friends, he is."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"That's--that's not--I'm going through a divorce. My focus isn't on starting another relationship right now."

"You, famously, tattooed your initials on the inside of his thigh during an Instagram live. That's pretty intimate."

"We were just having a little fun."

"Huh. That seems like more than 'a little fun' to me. So, how's Eddie doing with the increased attention?"

It takes Steve a second to track the change of subject, mind still stuck on the tattoo, on how the ink had looked on Eddie's pale skin.

"It's hard." Steve eventually answers. "Of course he enjoys bringing his music and dnd to a wider audience, but the focus on his personal life is--it's a lot."

"Well, he should have thought about before letting you tattoo him for your 850,000 followers. Does he want a relationship with you?"

His throat is dry, burning, he wishes he had more martini. He wishes he'd never taken a sip. "You'd have to ask him. I'm just taking it day by day, you know? That's what I need right now."

"We're getting to the end of our time, but you know I have to ask. Your best friend, Robin Buckley, she very famously unfollowed both Nancy and Jonathan on all social media when news broke about your divorce. Can you tell us why she unfollowed them?"

"I have no control over Robin's accounts. I didn't even know she followed Jonathan ever, and she and Nancy have a relationship outside of me, you know? I can't say what happened between them."

"She's been in your videos with Eddie. She like him?"

"Very much. It's kind of annoying actually. They keep ganging up on me."

"Much to everyone's delight, I'm sure. So, what can we expect from the newly single Steve Harrington?"

"There are a couple things in the works, but only time will tell."

---

He walks through his front door an hour later, and Eddie's sitting on the couch, playing a soft melody on an acoustic guitar. He stops when he sees Steve, setting the guitar aside, and standing.

"How'd it go, baby?" He asks. His soft smile is so beautiful, Steve gets a lump in his throat.

"As expected." He crosses the space between them, lets Eddie pull him close.

"He ask about us?" Eddie's breath tickles his ear.

"Of course."

"And you--"

"I want--it should be just for us. We should be able to announce when we're ready. Not when Murray-fucking-Bauman asks."

Eddie kisses him, then, sweet and slow, making him lose his breath.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

"You sure? All my mess--"

"Is mine too. Afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul, Steve Harrington."

[iceunhie]

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

[mysteryshoptls]

2025-2026 Player Birthday Login Message Lines

These are all the messages that you get from the boys when you log in on the birthday that you set in-game from 18 Mar 2025 to 17 Mar 2026! For those that want to hear them, you can find them in the Archive, under the tab その他　→　監督生バースデー⑤. (This will not be in your game archives until the birthday you set passes.)

You can find the 2021-2022 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2022-2023 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2023-2024 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2024-2025 Birthday Login Message Lines here!

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. It may only be a small token, but I've prepared a gift for you. Here is a spare tie. I'm sure you won't get yours dirtied often, but there is always the chance. In order to follow the rules and dress appropriately, you should make sure to carry it on you at all times.

Ace

Oh, there they are. Heeey, [Yuu]. You free? Let's go play some b-ball. Why...? I mean, today's your birthday, right? I thought I'd celebrate you in my own way, is all. Come on, let's go, we gotta get moving 'til our stomach growls. There's another bit of "fun" to look forward to after, too.

Deuce

[Yuu], Happy Birthday. I went and rented a blastcycle for you today. I just thought it'd be nice to let my hardworking friend feel the breeze on their face for once. Might be a good change of pace, don't you think? Don't worry, I'll drive totally safe. Here, get on the back. Once you're ready to go, we're off!

Cater

Happy Birthday! Thanks for all the work you do as a prefect. Don't you get tired from working so hard? That's why I got.... this! Some bath salts recommended by yours truly! The rose petals inside are super cute, and the fragrance really helps to soothe your soul～ Tell me what you thought later!

Trey

[Yuu], Happy Birthday. I was actually thinking of heading to a café today, want to come with? Apparently the sweets there are made by a first-class pâtissier. Aren't you curious how it'll taste? You think I'm just wanting to taste it for myself? ...Haha, no way. I'm just trying to celebrate you for your birthday.

SAVANACLAW

Leona

I thought it was sounding pretty rowdy, but I see it was just 'cause it's your birthday. Good for you. Huh? You want to eat lunch with me because it's your birthday? That's a pretty strong demand from a little herbivore like you. Well now, what sort of delicious meat will you treat me to, hm...? You're extending an invitation to me, of all people, so I'm expecting a lavish feast.

Jack

Happy Birthday. I'm just saying that as a fellow schoolmate. It's not like I'm looking to get along, or anything. Hm? The candy jar you got as a gift won't open? Fine, hand it over. ...There you go. I'm pretty nice for someone who doesn't want to get along...? What's that supposed to mean? Don't get ahead of yourself, just 'cause it's your birthday.

Ruggie

[Yuu]-kun, Happy Birthday～ Feels like you're growin' a bit more with another year under your belt. Oh yeaah, you should totally show off how mature you got. For example, maaaybe you can treat me to something. You'll buy me a lil' snack? Sheeheehee, thaaaanks～ This is why it's great havin' cute lil' underclassmen like you.

OCTAVINELLE

Azul

[Yuu]-san, a very Happy Birthday to you. ...Whatever is the problem? You have a concerned look on your face. You haven't finished your homework? Even though the party is right around the corner? Well, isn't this a predicament. Allow me to embody the spirit of compassion and assist you. Not to worry, proper compensation can be discussed at a later date... Right?

Jade

Happy Birthday. I've prepared a present for you. Here you go. This is a patch of moss that I cultivated and separated out just for you. Also, here is a booklet on how to care for it. Please show me how well your moss has grown six months from now. ...You absolutely won't allow it to wither and die, now, will you?

Floyd

Shrimpy-chan, Happy Birthday～ Here ya go, I brought a cake just for you. ...Eh, the cake inside's a mess? Ohhh right～ That might be 'cause I dropped it earlier. So? There somethin' wrong with that? It's not like the taste'll change. Eat it already, c'mon.

SCARABIA

Kalim

Happy Birthday! Pheeew, I'm feelin' so excited. Makes me wanna dance! Oh yeah, wanna dance together at your birthday party later? ...Ahaha, you don't gotta know what moves to make! I'm just gonna dance for you with all my best wishes, so that'll be fun enough!

Jamil

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. Are you ready to be completely mobbed by everyone in the spirit of your birthday? Eh, you're not? Hey, that's why I'm always telling you to be prepared for any... ...Mm, maybe I shouldn't nag like this on their birthday of all days... Ugh, fine, I'll get you ready. First, we have to do something about those clothes, got it?

POMEFIORE

Vil

Happy Birthday. You seem to be having a grand time. Perhaps you didn't need my well wishes? Of course that couldn't possibly have been the case. That's why I've made my way here before heading to my club. I have a present to hand to you, as well. You should be grateful that I took the time for you like this. Keep on striving for perfection.

Epel

Happy Birthday! It's about your present, but... Wanna come with me to pick something out at Foothill Town? I was looking into a bunch of stuff, but I don't really know what's really in right now... You sure? Great! Then let's go right now! I'm really looking forward to shopping with you!

Rook

Happy Birthday, are you enjoying your special day? Your beauty still astounds as another year passes! This is my present to you. I made sure to thoroughly prepare something that you are guaranteed to love. As a hunter, I cannot allow my aim to be off the mark, after all. Hurry, please open it. I want to hear your thoughts as soon as I can.

IGNIHYDE

Idia

Happy Birthday... ...Eh, you have a favor to ask me? Ugh, that's worse than having to give a present... I'll at least ask, but... what is it? You want me to tell you what computer I recommend? I mean, I build my own... EH, YOU'RE INTERESTED IN BUILDING YOUR OWN COMPUTER TOO!? Suuuure, of course I'll teach you! I gotchu, whether it's air-cooled PCs, liquid-cooled PCs, or anything else you want! When it comes to personal builds, I'm your man～!

Ortho

Today's your birthday, right? Happy Birthday! I have a present for you, too. Here you go, DVD of movies! I searched through all the reviews online and compiled all the most popular movies in each genre. Once you're finished watching everything, I'd love to verify your impress... Wait, I mean, I'd love to chat about what you thought of them!

DIASOMNIA

Malleus

Happy Birthday. In celebration, I've prepared some ice cream. Why did I choose this? Because I remember being elated, myself, when served this in the past. I can only hope you feel the same. ...You are? Well, wonderful.

Silver

Happy Birthday. Is there anything you'd like as a gift? You'd like to train with me? A spectacular attitude... Of course, I do not mind at all. However... The celebratory atmosphere may lead to me being more spirited than usual. Let me know if it becomes too difficult for you.

Sebek

Hey, human! You're looking more lax than usual. Do you not think you're letting yourself go too much, simply because it is your birthday? You're surprised I remembered? Well, obviously I did, my memory is much better than yours, after all! I won't say this is an offering for your birthday, or anything... But I should feed you something that'll put some muscle even on a weak human like you. Follow me!

Lilia

[Lilia pops out from the ceiling] HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [YUU]! Kheehee, a good reaction, indeed. Birthdays should all be about surprises. It seems like my little tactic was a big hit. I've got a present and some cake waiting for you, too. Basically, the plan was to treat you after giving you a little shock like that.

OTHERS

Grim

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]! C'mon, hurry and get ready to go! As the boss of the Gastronomy Club, I made you some real good food! I threw in a ton of leaves and roots, too! You're a real lucky hench-human, huh! Myahaha!

Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Rollo and Fellow do not have new lines. Theirs are repeated from last year’s.

Crowley

Ta-daaa! What do you suppose this could be? That’s correct, it’s an exchange coupon for use at the Mystery Shop! You have been a consistent helping hand, so… This is a special gift for you. Happy Birthday. Incidentally, that is only worth 500 madol (5 Thaumarks). It cannot be exchanged for something pricier than that. Please don’t hold it against me.

Crewel

It seemed rather rowdy in here, but now I see it was just you, pup. Are you excited simply because its your birthday? I see, well, in that case, I have a special present just for you. As for what it is… It is a special alchemy homework assignment. You should be happy; you’ll be able to improve your skills even further with this, don’t you think? Haha, Happy Birthday.

Trein

I hear it is your birthday today. Do continue to put forth your best effort in your studies as a student of academia. Allow me to gift you with some words of wisdom instead of a present, as someone who has been on this mortal coil slightly longer than yourself. Merely aging another year does not a mature person make. However, time spent on fruitful endeavors will always be of benefit to your growth.

Rollo

Whatever is the matter, [Yuu]-kun? There is a strange glimmer in your eyes… …Ah, I see. Today is your birthday. A present? Hmph. I hardly think that it should be something you request of others… But no matter. Indeed, birthdays should be treasured. However, what would be an acceptable gift…? I am afraid I’m rather unaccustomed to this. I would hope I do not disappoint you with a poor gift choice.

Fellow (EN: Ernesto)

Oh, my, hello there, my learned scholar! I’ve been searching, and finally, I’ve found you! I was fervently hoping to wish you well for your birthday. Here, your present. ...As fellows lacking in magical abilities, we should get along together, don'tcha think? Happy Birthday! Fwahaha!

Requested by @butterflyremix.

[niabrooks2003]

It’s Time to Defend Taylor from Win or Lose (2025)

I don’t normally voice my disagreements with how people ingest media in a public manner. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. HOWEVER…too many people are coming after Taylor from Pixar’s Win or Lose (2025) and ion like that so…

With TV/film suppressing so much Black Girl representation, seeing Taylor, Kai, and Rochelle as a part of the main cast was exciting! This rant will be about how viewers have reacted to just Taylor though, concerning episodes 5 and 6.

Get cozy because there’s a lot to unpack here. Here’s your SPOILER ALERT!

I thought Taylor and Yuwen made a very cute couple. I love how they depicted what it’s like falling in love during your awkward years. Yuwen was very sweet with Taylor and it was clear Taylor brought out the best in Yuwen (as confirmed by Kai).

Of course, their relationship comes to a rocky patch when Yuwen becomes jealous and insecure when he sees Taylor and Tom interacting. For these interactions, keep in mind that they are portrayed from Yuwen’s perspective. Taylor eventually calls things off when Yuwen purposely catches Taylor off-guard to pitch the ball, which causes Taylor to miss and the other team to make a run.

On social media I have seen the cutest edits to this imaginary couple. I’ve also seen some sad ones. In almost every sad one, Taylor is casted as the villain. The comments are even worse! Many place the fault on Taylor for hurting Yuwen, or worse, cast her off as “the worst girlfriend AND big sister”. They have massacred my poor Shayla despite her getting just as hurt, if not more.

Let’s break it down:

1. In episode 6, we are introduced to the “real” Yuwen. The Yuwen we see is outwardly very cocky, self-assured and sometimes aloof. Yuwen deals with social anxiety and insecurity by hiding behind a “Class clown” persona. He relies on humor and positive attention to thrive among his peers. We also see his inner child, who is very sweet and portrays Yuwen’s real feelings.

2. Episode 5 and 6 give a more detailed look into Taylor. She is a great softball player and gets along well with her teammates. It’s shown that Tom and Taylor are good friends. Pre-relationship, Taylor and Yuwen can be seen sharing easy banter with each other. I think it’s important to note that Taylor never instigates such banter and only participates at Yuwen’s insistance. Taylor is also held responsible for her younger brother, Ira, during the games (More on this later).

3. Taylor is well aware of this from the jump. On their first date to the movies, she explicitly assures Yuwen to just be himself. And he does — as best as he can, anyhow.

Yuwen eventually opens up to Taylor and reveals his “inner child”. A very touched Taylor reveals her “inner child” in return. In doing so, they both share a personal secret: Yuwen shares he is very insecure, while Taylor shares that she gets nauseous when nervous.

Claim #1: It’s Taylor’s fault for hurting Yuwen, he’s obviously insecure and she knows this!

Aht aht! Wait a min… let’s refute this ridiculous opinion (because it’s important to realize that these comments are JUST OPINIONS)

Obviously they are just kids, but let’s give a little bit of credit here. Kids can go through amazing growth in interpersonality and emotional intelligence. Yuwen is shown to struggle with letting his guard down, but he made an active decision to do so with Taylor. Taylor recognizes this and returns the favor. It’s a hugesign of mutual trust. To keep that trust, you’ve got to work at it. 

The first incident that lead to their breakup occurs at school. Tom hands Taylor her dropped cell phone and the two engage in a conversation. While Yuwen is shown to be initially irritated, it quickly turns to crushing insecurity and leads to Taylor pushing him away after he butts into the conversation with an ill-timed joke. If you pay close attention to Taylor’s expression, tone, and what is being said to Tom, it is clear she is concerned for Tom. During the conversation it is revealed that something might be wrong with Tom’s brother and it is somehow related to Tom’s academic troubles (which eventually leads into Rochelle’s storyline). 

Now, Taylor doesn’t yell at Yuwen, she doesn’t scream or accuse him of being a jerk. All she asks for is that Yuwen can be serious at times. Which is fair. It’s clear that Tom’s brother is a sensitive topic, and even though Yuwen isn’t aware of the situation, he unfortunately chose to give into his insecurities and push the clown narrative, despite Taylor’s initial warning (the push away).

After a dramatic, emotional montage of inner child Yuwen and inner child Taylor fighting and crying, it jumps to the night of the championships. From Yuwen’s perspective, Taylor angrily brushes past him on the way to the field, leaving Yuwen hurt.

However, in the episode prior, Ira’s perspective shows that Taylor in fact reaches out to Yuwen in an attempt to understand why Yuwen is being aloof and clearly upset. Yuwen, retreating to his humor shield, mockingly repeats Taylor’s request to “use your words”. Taylor tells him he is being rude, and he shoots back that Taylor is being rude, still upset over her reaction at his jokes towards Tom at school. Yuwen is then shown to be the one walking away from Taylor as she confronts her brother. Yuwen is shutting Taylor out.

But before yall come and say it’s because Taylor hurt his feelings, remember that Taylor was just as hurt after their argument. She is literally crying in the car on the way to the game. Leave my poor girl alone, she has feelings too!

Now to the actual game.

Earlier in the episode, Taylor enlists Yuwen’s help in practicing her catches, as she’d like to be catcher one day. Yuwen initially doesn’t take Taylor seriously (out of concern of course), but when Taylor get’s upset and expresses frustration, he finally gets with the program.

While in the pit, the team notice the animosity between the couple and Tom decides to spill the tea Taylor told him and announce that Yuwen’s acting the way he is because he is insecure. Okay a few things to unpack here. First, Taylor is sitting with her headphones on, so she doesn’t know Tom has announced this. Second, remember Taylor and Tom are close (platonically), I assume this was a private conversation (perhaps as a way to apologize to Tom on Yuwen’s behalf) that went down after Taylor and Yuwen’s argument. 

Yuwen takes the slight very hard and retaliates by sharing to the whole team that Taylor wants to take Rochelle’s place as catcher, but he voices doubt that Taylor is no where near as good as Rochelle for it to be feasible. Taylor hears (since Yuwen is speaking with an increased volume) and takes off her headphones to fix him a glare (but doesn’t say anything). But before, she is sitting there looking heartbroken.

So, when the coach asks for a temporary fill-in for Rochelle (she is absent atm), Taylor volunteers. The coach decides he wants to be stupid and asks if Taylor thinks she’s a better catcher than Rochelle (despite NOBODY wanting to volunteer for the catcher positon except Taylor). He dismisses the dumb comment at Taylor’s pointed expression. This hits hard since now that is TWO people instilling or voicing disbelief in Taylor’s catching capabilities, despite the hard work and success that’s being put in! 

Yuwen’s not done though. In another insecure attack, he picks fun at Taylor and discretely reveals her secret by “encouraging” her not to puke if she gets nervous in front of the whole team. It backfires though and the whole team regard Yuwen coldly. Taylor, always forced into being the bigger person, just tells Yuwen “I’ll see you on the field”. On the field, Yuwen refuses to listen to Taylor’s pitch signs, which leads to the eventual missed catch. 

Taylor is through. Rightfully so. She’s visibly upset and frustrated towards Yuwen’s behavior towards her because Yuwen is refusing to communicate and show nothing but animosity (plus, he’s broken her trust by intentionally sharing her secret to the whole team) So, she ends things, and walks off the field.

Claim #2: Taylor is the worst because she treats Ira horribly!

Honestly, it’s giving yall just want an excuse to hate on Black girls. I feel like I didn’t see this opinion until after episode six, soooooooo, the math ain’t mathin if yall are just really defensive of Ira.

Episode 5 is told from Ira’s perspective. Ira is Taylor’s imaginative little brother who accompanies Taylor at softball meets (probably due to her parents just dropping him off with Taylor). Taylor is left to look after him while playing the game. Despite her slight annoyance (which I think is justified), she still cares deeply about her brother (i.e. replying to Ira’s complaints and announcements during the game). 

In a move reminiscent to Nico and Bianca Di Angelo (but, you know, without the total abandonment and death), Taylor starts hanging out with Yuwen, which doesn’t bode well with Ira. In Ira’s eyes, Taylor is the only one who gets him. So he decided to roll with the “Bleacher Creatures” after they show interest in him. 

Taylor voices her concern with that fact and pulls their mom into it when Ira shows disinterest in her warnings. Taylor is justifiably worried about her brother hanging around the kids that obviously cause some trouble. She even tells Yuwen about it, and he agrees to talk to Ira. The timing is a bit unclear, but I assume that the movie date had happened just before that (with Ira spilling about Taylor’s boyfriend happening before that — whew, work with me here!). So the next morning on the school bus, Yuwen’s attempt to fist bump Ira (Ira chooses to lick Yuwen’s fist instead ) was also Yuwen’s attempt at bonding with Ira at Taylor’s request.

But before yall come with the: “but she yelled at Ira before the game!” 

She is upset with Yuwen and Ira chose to interrupt… what did yall think was gonna happen?

Taylor is frustrated. She has been put in the position of having to read between the lines and make decisions for people and she’s tired.

Ira was able to come to terms that what he did with the Bleacher Creatures was wrong by himself. When you have an older sis calling all the shots, it can be difficult to decide on your own. It’s a moment of growth for Ira.

I’m not dismissing that Ira’s feelings got hurt about his sister distancing from him, but Taylor is her own person as well. 

In conclusion, Taylor’s actions are justified and she is also a victim in this scenario, not just Yuwen. Insecurity should not be an excuse to hurt your partner. I hope Yuwen talks to Taylor and they make up, but yall better recognize that Yuwen hurt Taylor too. 

And that Taylor deserves just as much love.

[planet-hwa]

can i request pervy roommate seonghwa who loves taking upskirt pictures of you and steals your panties. he got caught snooping in your room and you decide to punish him.

a subby seonghwa would be great. reader doesnt have to be dom but hwa loves it when shes mean to him.

thank you for your time! 🫶🏻

CORRUPTED THOUGHTS — 성화

✎ summary although you were no more than roommates, seonghwa was obsessed with you — completely infatuated by your mere existence. along with the pure admiration he had towards you, it also came with the immoral perverted thoughts that filled his mind every time he caught your scent…

pairing roommate!seonghwa x reader genre university/college au [only the reader, seonghwa is a few years older], a lot of perverted smut… my apologies word count 3.7k

warnings MDNI obsessedperv!seonghwa, reader is in a fwb situation, petnames/nicknames, swearing, underwear fetish, panty sniffing, masturbation [m], voyeurism i think, ruined orgasm, vibrators, pillow humping [f], caught masturbating, name-calling/degrading, punishment, handjobs, blowjobs, overstimulation, orgasm control, orgasm denial, bondage [m], dirty talk, crying from overstimulation [m], cunnilingus, face sitting, face riding, hands-free orgasm

❝ she lives in daydreams with me, she’s the first one that i see ❞ 🎧 now playing   she ; harry styles

Although you were no more than roommates, Seonghwa was obsessed with you — completely infatuated by your mere exsistence. He couldn’t go a day without thinking about you, haunted by the lingering scents of your sweet perfume after you had left for your classes. Everything you owned and collected through your life was placed decoratively around the house, along with his own collections.

There was no escaping you.

He tried his hardest to control himself, but perverted tendencies drove him in other directions, all of this starting one day by just doing the laundry. While you were at one of your exams, one you had been stressing about all week, Seonghwa decided he wanted to help remove some sort of chores in your life and washed your dirty laundry. 

Little did he know: this would be the worst thing to do.

Sorting through the blacks and whites, he would occasionally come across your underwear, which he had no problem with of course. That was until one pair of your panties, a navy blue pair with small white flowers and a white lace trim, ended up in his grip. This happened to be the pair you had worn last night, laced with your pre-arousal from your very teasing casual hookup, the smell was pungent. The aroma filled the small room and travelled its way into Seonghwa’s nose. He stared at the pair with wide eyes, his thumb tracing over the darkened, now dried, patch of the previous night's intimate moments.

It was as if his mind had lost control of his body, his hands slowly pulling the panties to his face and breathing them in deeply. The fragrance was intoxicating, his mind instantly becoming fogged and heat swiftly rushing through his body, targeting the area between his legs. He had never become harder quicker, his dick twitching desperately in his sweats and leaked with pre-cum — all from one whiff. In desperation, he ran to his bedroom and stripped himself of his pants. Your panties in one hand and his throbbing erection in the other, creating the beginning cycle of perversion.

_________________________

Seonghwa tried his hardest to respect your privacy, attempting to block out the sounds of your sexual actions in the next room with his headphones, hands originally distracted by his animal crossing game. But how could he not be distracted, with the beautiful melody of your moans that cracked through the walls. Even knowing they were fake, they were still music to his ears.

You were currently in a friends-with-benefits situation with a guy at your college. He was cute, a good kisser and good at turning you on, but he could never finish the job. Seonghwa didn’t understand why you would still invite him over time and time again, especially with the knowledge that the moment he would leave, your vibrator would be in between your legs to pull you through the unfinished orgasms. That’s how he knew the difference in your moans, fake vs real, he heard both without even touching you.

“Fuuck, right there.” You moaned loudly, the familiar knot building in your stomach as the man pumped sloppily into you. Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa sat in his room listening to your whimpers, secretly praying he was the one driving you with pleasure. His erection tented in his pajama pants, desperately twitching for friction. Fingers grazed over the bulge, fluttering at the light touch before they turned into a palming movement. Lifting the waistband of his pants, he watched as pre-cum dribbled out of the reddened tip. He dragged his thumb over it, wincing at the feeling before he started slowly pumping himself. The sounds of your moans echoed through the hall and into Seonghwa’s room, mixing with a lewd symphony of his own silent whines and desperation to cum. His hand pumped with the rhythm of your sounds, growing faster every time you did. A tension grew in his stomach, a combination of pleasure and guilt. He knew this was a disgusting thing to do, but he physically couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried.

Just as he was about to fall over the edge, the sounds of sex stopped and footsteps fell through the apartment, the front door opening and closing quickly. Seonghwa curiously got up out of bed, taking a peak through the crack in his bedroom door. He watched as you locked the front door and wandered back to your bedroom, wearing nothing but a cropped band tee and black lace panties — corruption bled into his brain as he stared at the panties clenching around your ass, knowing they would be his next victim of fetishising. The sound of vibrations pricked at his ears, whimpers quietly following. 

Tip-toeing through the hallway, he glanced through the open crevice into your bedroom, eyes widening at the sight before him. The bunny vibrator pressing into your clit deliciously as you grind your dripping cunt on a pillow that usually sat on the chair in the corner of the room. Seonghwa watched as you humped the pillow desperately chasing your unfinished business, his hardened erection reminding him of his own. His hands moved down his abdomen and under his waistband, his slender fingers wrapping around the base of his cock and pumping hopelessly — his eyes remained on the view between the cracked open door. Your moans heightened in pitch as you rutted against the pillow, vibrator still tightly held to your puffy clit, you pressed the button to the fastest setting causing your legs to begin to shake uncontrollably. The sight was hypnotic to Seonghwa, his hand pumping to the rhythm of your hip movements. With parted lips, a small whimper escaped them causing him to slap his free hand to his mouth in an attempt to not blow his cover. Thankfully for him, you were too invested in making yourself finish to notice that just two metres from you was your roommate pursuing the same feeling. 

Your belly tightened as your orgasm crashed over you, body shaking hopelessly as you fell backwards, the vibrator rubbing your arousal around your entire core. Your breathing was heavy as you slowed down from your high. Behind your bedroom door, Seonghwa had the same feeling wash over him like a tidal wave. His hand pumped around his bulge with desperation as hot ropes of cum filled his pajama pants, a sticky wet patch now coating the inside of them. He leant back against the wall accidentally causing a creak to rustle through the house. Without hesitation, he sharply ran back to his room and closed the door quickly but quietly, praying that his perverted self wasn’t caught.

The noise of creaking and silent footsteps entertained your eyes, thinking that your roommate had just heard you masturbating, but in your post-orgasm bliss — you didn’t seem to care and ended changing into pajamas and drifting off to sleep.

_________________________

Seonghwa searched destructively through your laundry basket, looking for that hypnotic black lacy pair of panties that were clad to your ass last night. Currently alone in the house, with you at your morning classes, he knew you’d be gone long enough for him to relieve himself of his depravity — or so he thought…

Finally, the lace of the panties tickled his finger tips, quickly snatching them up and bolting to his room. The second he entered, his pants and boxers were discarded somewhere on the floor, the loose shirt being his only coverage. He sat up against the headboard staring at the object in hand, observing the previous patch of wet arousal on them. He felt like he could cum right then and there just by the sight, both lips and tip drooling in anticipation. His hand wrapped around his twitching cock, finger grazing over the sensitive red tip and down the underside vein of his length, dragging his pre-cum over it and beginning to stroke.

His grip tightened on the panties as he moved his hand rhythmically, the other slowly bringing the fabric to his face and dipping his nose into it — he inhaled the scent letting it reroute his brain. He whined desperately into the fabric as his hand pumped around his raging erection faster. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, hips bucking hopelessly into his hand and moaning incoherent mumbles of your name — he had never been this turned on by someone, a person who wasn’t even there. Seonghwa was so caught up in euphoria that he didn’t hear the clicks of the front door, or the footsteps that grew closer to his room.

Classes finished early today, which meant you got to go home and relax after having such a stressful school week. The front door unlocked swiftly and you entered with a huff, throwing your shoes off into the corner and placing your coat over the arm of the couch. Muffled groans filled the apartment, all coming from Seonghwa’s room. You cocked an eyebrow at the thought of him having someone over — you couldn’t judge of course but you had never known him to be one for hookups. Curiosity got the best of you and you tip-toed towards his room, the door left slightly open but not enough to see. You lightly pushed it open, eyes widening in shock at the sight of the man on the bed. His hand wrapped securely around his very hard, very large, dick, moving in a fast rhythmic pattern and glistening with pre-cum. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and eyes rolled backwards, his other hand covering the majority of his face. As his face contorted with pleasure, you felt a warmth move to your core, something you never thought you’d feel for your roommate of all people.

Paying unnecessary close attention to his facial expressions, you noticed he held something compressed against his nose; quick enough to realise what it was. Slipping on your feet slightly, the door opened wider and revealed your presence, Seonghwa too intoxicated to notice until the sound of your voice penetrated his ears.

“W-what the fuck?” You stuttered, frozen in shock at the sight. “Seonghwa, what are you doing?”

“Oh, oh my god! I’m so sorry!” He jumped, spitting apologies whilst trying to cover himself. You walked up to his bed and snatched your panties out of his hands, putting the pieces together as to why they kept going missing for a few days but showing up suddenly after mentioning it.

“Why do you have these?” You shouted, the stickiness of pre-cum latching onto your fingers, caused by his speediness to cover himself up with his hands. You watched his body tense up, his face was flushed down to his neck, big boba eyes looking at you with fear and guilt.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be out all morning-”

“I don’t care! Why are you taking my underwear, you perv!” Ignoring the more perverted fact that you were so turned on by the thought of his getting off to you. A silence followed as you both collected your thoughts.

“I’m truly so sorry,” His voice hushed, eyes glossing with guilty tears. “Y/N, please forgive me. I’ll do anything, just please forgive me.”

You brows furrowed in thought, staring at the desperation in his expression; coated with so many guilty and lustful emotions. Although you were no more than roommates and never had been, you could see that Seonghwa was obsessed with you — completely infatuated by your mere existence.

‘Anything’, he said it himself. 

You had complete control right now.

Quietly sitting down next to him, he shifted in his spot as you grew closer, hand grazing his bare thigh. The soft touch sent chills up his spine, his hands still cupping his erection in coverage.

“I just want to know,” Your gaze moved to his face. “Why?”

“W-why?”

“Why do you get off to my panties,” Your fingertips trailed up and down his thigh, growing closer to his hard-on with every line. “When you could just have me?”

His eyes widened as the question lingered in the air, your hand now centimetres away from where he wanted it most. Lips parted and unable to get words out, he watched as your face moved closer to him, your breath grazing against his lips before connecting them with yours. Instantly falling into the kiss, he memorised how soft and delicate your lips were, his hand removing his cover and cupping your face to keep you close. The kiss quickly fell into a passionate mixture of moans and groans, tongues dancing in tangent and twirling around each other. 

Both of his hands now cupping your face, you took this as the opportunity to wrap your fingers around his length. He whined into the kiss as you slowly stroked him, collecting sticky pre-cum from his tip and dragging it up and down his throbbing erection. The kiss was unbreakable, hopeless moans falling in from Seonghwa, his brain unable to process what was truly happening. The tension already began to build in his stomach due to his previous orgasm being ruined. You broke the kiss to look at him, watching as he tried to follow you for more. His eyes were hooded and eyebrows scrunching in different shapes as his orgasm grew closer.

“You know – fuuck – I’ve always dreamt of being with you.” He swore, legs starting to tremble beneath him.

“Are you close, Hwa?” You asked with a sultry voice, melting into his ears.

“Y-yes.” He mumbled, scrambling for words but ultimately losing to the continuous symphony of whimpers that flowed like a river. His hips began to buck into your hand for more friction, understanding and swiftly speeding your movements. You watched as his orgasm sat on the edge; stomach tensed, eyes rolled back, hands clutching at the sheets — a complete moaning mess.

“Y/N, ‘m gonna cum-” Mere seconds before his release, you removed your hand from his leaking tip and listened to him whine in agony.

“You didn’t really think that I would let you cum that easy, did you?” You laughed, his pain serving as a comedy show for you. “You’ve been such a naughty boy, stealing my panties and using them to get off. Don’t you think you deserve some punishment?”

A pout grew on his face, puppy eyes staring at you in despair.

“Unless you don’t want me to touch you at all-”

“No!” He snapped, a usual tone of anger turned into a beg. “Please…”

You smirked at the perverted man, watching as he poured his heart into begging for your touch, smiling once you gave in.

After multiple denied orgasms, Seonghwa’s body was shaking all over, arousal leaking into his bloodstream. His lips were swollen from your kisses, face coloured in a crimson red and sweat beading down his skin. His hands were now tied tightly to the bed posts, a penalty caused by his inability to keep his hands away from his cock every time you repudiated his orgasm — which happened to be four or five of them by now. The tip of his length was a matching shade of red to his face, swollen and oozing out clear liquid that probably couldn’t even be called pre-cum from the amount of times it had happened. Every touch from you caused his skin to burn, a good and bad sensation.

“Pleease Y/N,” He cried, tears welling up in his eyes and piercing the corners as they rolled down his cheeks. “It’s too much now, please let me cum.”

“But I thought this was what you wanted?” You looked up at him with innocent eyes and purred, running your tongue along his slit and wrapping your lips softly around the tip, slowly pushing your head down until his length hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan trembled between Seonghwa’s lips, tears now streaming like niagara falls down his flushed and puffy cheeks as you sucked him in. “Weren’t you the one who said you dreamt of being with me?”

“This isn’t – aahhh – exactly what I had in mind… shit…” His voice vibrated through the room, it was unstable as his sloppy upwards thrusts into your hands.

“Well, I did say you needed to be punished, but…” You removed your hand once more and brought it to cup his warm cheek, his glossy boba eyes staring into yours. He looked so vulnerable right now, you almost felt bad. “I think you’ve had enough, baby. What do you want me to do?”

“Sit on my face.”

The response was instant, almost as if a switch snapped him back on. The words were audible compared to his previous mumbled groans and curses, leaving you surprised. You had been so focused on giving him tortuous pleasure that you were completely ignoring the wet patch that soaked your panties the moment you entered the room, his statement made your body realise that you had silently been torturing yourself as well.

Swiftly discarding your clothes, you straddled his chest, thighs sitting comfortably next to his face and letting your dripping core hover above his mouth. He looked up at you from underneath checking for any uncertainty, both sending each other silent confirmations. He licked his plush lips before sticking his tongue out, waiting as you lowered your weight onto him.

He slid his tongue through your folds in a slow motion, earning a moan from you — music to his ears. As worn out and tired as he was, his energy regained instantly at the small taste of you. He quickly began lapping at your soaking folds, lewdly drinking up your wetness and following the pleasured sounds falling from your lips. Breathing in your scent was intoxicating to him, and finally it was from the source and not a patch of lacy fabric.

One hand grasped tightly at the headboard whilst the other ruffled itself into Seonghwa’s long locks, body jolting at the tip of his tongue suddenly hitting your clit. It swirled and flicked over it at a speed nobody has ever done, already feeling the knot grow in your lower abdomen.

“Fuuck Hwa, feels so good.” You cried, knuckles beginning to turn white from the pressure on your grip. He hummed in response as he continued to drink you up like a starved animal.

Hands still tied to the bedposts, he had no option of burying his slender fingers deep inside of you so instead he began pulsating his tongue in and out of your tight hole, feeling you clench around it which was driving him insane. You instinctively began grinding against his face, his nose tapping your clit with every roll of your hips.

The blend of lewd slurping and desperate moans filled the atmosphere, loud enough for neighbours to hear but neither of you cared. As you bucked your hips against his face, dragging your essence over his nose and chin, his moans shuddered beneath you sending new shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You felt your high building and your thighs began tightening, squeezing around Seonghwa’s face, almost cutting off the circulation. But he didn’t care. Infact, it turned him on even more to know the effect he was having on you. From listening to you hook up with your classmates and hearing you masturbate afterwards, he knew that these moans were real and you were truly enjoying yourself.

“Hwa, m’ gonna cu– ahhh!” In desperation to be washed over by your arousal, he began rubbing his face against your pussy, long tongue still roughly pumping in and out of you and nose thrashing your bud with every move. Both hands held securely onto the headboard as you rode his face hopelessly before your orgasm crashed over you, body shaking harsher than ever before as you layered Seonghwa’s face in your squirted essence.

He whined at the sensations of your juices guzzling down his throat, making sure to drink up every drop. The feeling of your body trembling above him caused his own orgasm to rush through his body. Warm ropes of cum spurted out of his throbbing cock and onto his abs, painting the scene with white cream continuously as his body rid him of all the build up pressure. He moaned into your soaked core and sent a melody of sensations through your body, causing a small aftershock of overstimulation.

Both breathing heavily, you climbed off of him and quickly untied his wrists from restraint, his arms instantly dropping to his sides. His chest fell and rose harshly, still trying to regain his composure back. You hopped off the bed and grabbed a towel from his washing basket, presumably an already dirty one, wiping his tummy clean and throwing the towel away. You stood up once more before a soft grip to your wrist stopped you.

“Where are you going?” Seonghwa sobbed, tear stains very prominent on his cheeks making you realise how far you pushed him.

“I’ll be back in just a second, I promise.” You whisper before wandering to the kitchen and returning with two glasses of water. “Drink this, baby.”

Seonghwa took the glass and gulped it down, watching as you moved around his room collecting items of clothes for him before stealing a shirt of his to wear yourself. Helping him sit up, you gently pulled a shirt over his head and gave him a pair of boxers to put on before he lay back down. You sat on the edge of the bed, guilt fading into you at the sight of him.

“Don’t feel bad,” As if he read your mind, he smiled softly at your concern. “This was everything I wanted and more.”

You returned him with a small smile of your own before leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on his swollen lips. The kiss, so soft and gentle compared to the previous scene, was sending an emotion through you that you hadn’t felt before after sex. A mutual understanding of the need to be around each other, especially following such a tormented situation. You pulled away and watched his facial expressions, not an ounce of regret or disheartment was in his eyes, only love and adoration.

“Do you have any more classes today?”

“I don’t, why?”

“Can you stay with me?”

A question that no guy had ever asked you or expected of you after sleeping with them. You finally understood why Seonghwa was always so caring towards you, despite his perverted tendencies, he was still so gentle with your emotions — he was deeply in love with you.

author's note i hope i did this anon request justice, i didn't add a few things because they weren't working out as well as i wanted them to so i'm sorry for that ;-; i hope that the anon who requested this sees it and enjoys it either way ♡

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

hi, im not reall sure if you request are open but if so id like to request something. Its NoNutNovember (i know its acctually april) but R teases g!p Nat the whole month by wearing seductive sets or just nothing underneath her dress when they go out, by constantly „innocently“ bending down, randomly lightly grazing her fingertip over nats bulge when she doesnt expect is and when they watch a movie or lay in bed and out of nowhere starts to massage nats balls. And lots of dirty talk. By the end if the month nat fucks r incredibly hard. I hope its understanible english is not my mother tongue. Anyway i hope you have a great day🤍

Burning Desire

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: amab!Nat x fem!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, top!Nat, bottom!reader, teasing (a lot), dirty talk, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, Nat has a big thing (I don’t make the rules)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: NNN is surprisingly fun for you, not so much for Nat ;)

𝐀/𝐍: been a while

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Natasha was sure that any longer of this torture and she’d lose her mind, the challenge was seemingly easy enough right? Just a month of no sex and masturbation. There was no real challenge in that right? Well it wouldn’t be such a problem if her girlfriend wouldn’t take such pleasure in teasing the hell out of Nat. 

It started easy enough, some light teasing here and there. You made some dirty comment or bedding down exactly in front of Nathashas nose. Making sure to search all the skimpiest clothes from your wardrobe you could find. Whenever your skirt rode up enough to reveal yet another of her favorite sets you enjoyed seeing the noticeable bulge forming in her pants. 

GYM sessions soon became your favorite time with Natasha. Not only would she be all sweaty and pumped up but it was also the perfect opportunity to tease her, wearing some short tights which made your ass stick out even more paired with a tight sports bra had the widow going. Too bad that it was yet another few months without having her hands on you. “Oh baby” You mumbled your hands falling to her crotch, all that dominant energy suddenly fading from her eyes as she released a soft whimper. “Someones excited huh?” You mocked her as you kneeled the bulge in her pants, another set of moans escaped her throat, you'd rarely seen her so submissive for you. This NNN was a real blast for you “please baby I need it” she mewled her sweaty hair sticking to her forehead “Ah, remember the challenge Tasha, I’m sure you don’t want to admit to the boys how you only lasted a mere two weeks right?” Your hands never leaving her hard bulge, you were surprised that she hadn’t creamed her pants yet.  

She let out a long sigh but eventually stopped your hand “You’re playing unfair” She huffed before turning away completely to pick up her set of whatever exercise she was currently doing. 

Another favorite of yours was movie nights with your girlfriend, she typically chose another old bond film to watch with you. Mumbling the lines along the actors when she thought that you weren’t paying attention to her. Today was no different, she rested next to you on the couch. Her head on your shoulder, your hand playing with her red hair, until you slipped her hand under her shorts stroking her abdomen. She let out a shaky moan.

 “Baby” she sighed. You moved to tug her pants down some more revealing her gray boxers which already had a little wet patch from her pre cum on them. Your hands worked on her balls forcing more and more moans from your poor girlfriend's throat. “You’re so hard already” You chuckled not stopping just yet “This is so stupid can’t we stop now?” She whined and you almost had pity in her “Come on” You encouraged her “It’s only a few more days”  

“Just imagine my tight little pussy pulsing around your big cock” Your hands worked wonders on her balls massaging them in a way you knew it would’ve made her crazy. “Wouldn’t you like that, Natty?” She hummed, pushing her head in your neck in a desperate attempt to distract herself.   

In the night of the first december she woke you up in the middle of the night with wet kisses on your neck. “Baby, are you awake” she whispered her kisses open mouthed all over your neck. You took a glance at the glock on the nightstand, 4:05 AM, Natsha was always a night owl. “Can I fuck you please” She mewled licking your skin, you were surprised by her iron will that she could last for so long. 

You nodded excitedly to finally feel her inside of you again “Yes, baby, I need it too” She hands ran down your torso, pushing up the oversized shirt you wore to sleep. Her hands found your tits pushing them together, the sight of it forced a moan from her throat. “I wanna suck on your tits” She whined looking at you with puppy eyes “Go ahead baby” you chuckled enjoying how desperate she had gotten over this month. 

Her mouth found your nipple tugging on it, enjoying how your face twisted in pain and pleasure. She sucked on your nipple, before licking all over your chest “Fuck, you’re so good at this” You cried out carching your body into her touch, letting your hands fly in her hair. She moved onto the other side letting her teeth scrape over her soft skin. She didn’t stop until you were decorated in her marks. She kissed down your stomach in the process, tugging your panties down your legs. 

She kissed your pubic bone taking in your scent, she watched how messy you were already slick running down her legs. Her fingers find your button to play with it. She rubbed tight circles over your clit making you mewl. You were so desperate already she was sure her dick would slip right in. You wanted you scold her for teasing so much with her feather-like touches, but you let her have the power over you after teasing her all month.  

She grabbed onto her hips, twisting you around to lay on your chest. She pulled up her hips positioning herself behind you. She kissed down your spin rubbing her dick between your legs brushing over your clit, making you mewl in the process. “Fuck, Nat I’m ready” You clinged to your pillow “Go in, please” She lined herself up pushing her penis inside your tight heat. You moaned at her stretch crying out for more. She let you adjust to her size for a couple of minutes before she thrusted in and out. 

Her thrust became faster and faster until she hammered inside of you, you could feel her tip brushing against your cervix. She panted like a dog above you rutting inside of you like her life dependent on it. “Fuck, I need to fill you up, gonna make you a mommy… wouldn’t you like that?” She slapped your ass “All round full of my kids” She was crazy for you, just as much as you were for her. “Please fill me up, I need your cum inside of me” 

You clenched around her dick squeezing you tight, you were so incredibly close just like you. “Fuck, Nat I’m close” You moaned “Cum with me please” She fastened her hips again before you cried out in your own orgasm. When she was sure you came first she let go herself, her hips slowing down to unrhyming thrusts. You felt her cum deep inside your womb, dripping out when she pulled out to collapse beside you. 

You crawled to her side enjoying the closeness to your girlfriend after intimacy. “Hey” You mumbled kissing her lips “Hey yourself” She threw her arms over your back keeping you close on her chest. “Round two?” 

[ptergwen]

Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY YOUR BACK! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: You’re unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peter’s voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok

stay

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w/c: 2,005

warnings: mentions of blood, angst (happy ending!)

a/n: hi lovely thank you sm! you guys know i love my angst so i felt very in my element with this one hehe, thanks for the patience while i get used to writing again! feel free to keep sending in your reqs and chatting, i love hearing from y'all and will answer asap ♡

"y/n? it's over, i got him. i’ll come find you, okay?"

you don't answer.

"y/n/n? can you hear me?"

there's only silence on peter's end of the headset. peter isn't worried, not at first. he figures maybe you just got disconnected.

"y/n?"

nothing.

now that peter hasn't heard from you on the third try, he is starting to worry. the two of you had gotten separated during your mission. the plan was for you to distract your opponent and peter to web him up, but you lost him somewhere along the way. it was hard to stick together in the dark, twisty tunnels. he'd thought it would be best to take care of your opponent himself and find you after.

tony is going to kill him if he let anything happen to you. it's okay, though. he can just use his suit to track your location.

"friday?"

"yes, peter?"

"take me to y/n."

peter swings through the tunnels to get to you faster. friday guides him, which he's grateful for because he doesn't have a great sense of navigation as is. it's even more difficult underground. peter lands where friday tells him to, but he doesn't see you.

"are you sure this is where she is? i think she might've lost connection... maybe her location didn't update."

"y/n's watch is online, peter."

peter notices something on the ground, its blinking light catching his attention. he picks it up. sure enough, it's your stark tech watch, but where are you?

"would you like me to check again?"

peter makes out a figure a few feet away. it isn't moving. he takes a few steps toward the figure, reaching for his mask.

"that's okay. thanks, friday."

he removes his mask to see better, brows knitting together. something doesn't feel right. peter's senses confirm it, the hairs on his arms standing up and eyes focusing harder in the darkness. in peter's head, he already knows it's you. in his heart, he hopes it isn't.

peter crouches down and puts a hand on the figure's shoulder, rolling them over to face him.

it's you.

your spandex suit has some rips in it, and dirt is coating your back. your mask is pulled up part of the way. peter takes it off, revealing blood dripping down your forehead, your eyes just barely open. tears roll down your cheeks. peter cups your face tenderly in his hands, eyes desperately searching for yours.

"oh my god, baby, what happened?"

"that guy."

your voice comes out weak. despite the blood and tears staining his gloved fingers and the tightening in his throat, peter does his best to stay calm.

"what guy? the one we were fighting?"

"yeah."

"he did this to you?"

you hum in response. peter props an arm behind your head for support.

"it's okay. everything's gonna be okay."

"but... it hurts."

"i know, baby. but you're gonna be okay. we're gonna get you home and..."

your eyes flutter closed.

"hey, hey, hey. look at me."

peter strokes your cheek, willing you to stay awake. you grunt.

"tell me where it hurts so i can take a look. can you do that for me, y/n? where does it hurt?"

"my head. on top."

peter carefully parts your hair, searching for the source of your bleeding. there's a damp patch of hair near the top of your head. he moves it aside and finds a gash. it's small, but fairly deep. he doesn't think he can handle this on his own; he needs to tell tony.

"i’m gonna call your dad, okay?"

you don't respond. your eyes are closed when peter looks for them.

"y/n? you have to stay awake."

you don't say or do anything to indicate that you hear him. tears prick peter's eyes, threatening to spill over. he doesn't know much about head injuries, but he knows this isn't good.

"please wake up, y/n/n."

peter grabs both your shoulders and shakes, hard enough that it should wake you. nothing. you seem to have slipped into some sort of an unconscious state.

your watch starts to beep with an incoming call from your dad. peter accepts it with a shaking hand.

"friday tells me your vitals are suspiciously low, little lady. what's going on?"

peter fights to keep his tears at bay. he cradles your head with one hand, placing his other on your heart. he needs to feel your heartbeat to remind himself you're still here.

"it's me, tony."

"kid? where's y/n?"

a quiet sob escapes him, tears finally falling. tony doesn't need to hear anything else.

"i’m on my way."

it doesn't take long for tony to get to you and peter. he comes whirring through the tunnels, retracting his iron man suit when he lands. you lie on the ground, your head in peter's lap. you'd woken up shortly after peter spoke to your dad, but you aren't really responsive. peter is cradling your head gently in both hands and whispering words of reassurance.

he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice tony is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"what happened, kid?"

tony kneels down next to peter.

"i... i don't know. the guy we were fighting... i didn't see, i think she hit her head."

"okay, okay. let me see the damage."

tony uses his watch to illuminate the dark area. there's dry blood all around the crown of your head, in your hair. it's worse than he expected. he doesn't let it show, though. he doesn't want to alarm you any more than you already are, or peter for that matter; he's a mess.

"i found this."

peter moves your hair to show your dad the wound on your head. tony shines the light on you to get a better look. concern flashes in his eyes briefly, but long enough for peter to see it.

"friday, call the med bay. tell them it's my daughter."

"yes, boss. it appears y/n may have a concussion. i've detected a large contusion."

you bring a hand up to your head, trying to feel the wound. peter coaxes your hand away with a don't touch, baby. you try to say something, but you can't. you're in too much pain. your dad and peter share a knowing look.

"we'll be there soon, fri. make sure they're ready for us. and call happy, tell him to pick us up asap."

"i’ll let them know right away, boss."

a bright light shines directly in your eyes, making you stir a bit in peter's lap. you whine and squeeze your eyes shut. fresh tears fall down your cheeks.

"it's okay, it's okay. it's just your old man."

you squint your eyes open.

"dad?"

"hey, y/n/n."

"what... what're you doing?"

"just gotta take a look at something. look up?"

you try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids feel heavy. tony holds one of your eyes open himself, then the other. he clicks his tongue.

"what's wrong? is she okay?" peter asks your dad.

"pupils are bigger than they should be. still reacting to light, though. that's good."

"what does it mean if her pupils are too big?"

"friday's right. she could have a mild concussion."

the light turns off, your body finally relaxing. peter's body stiffens.

"that's serious, isn't it?"

peter looks from tony to you, stroking your hair and cupping your cheek, then back up at tony. tony can see the fear in his eyes.

"it shouldn't be, the bleeding just gave us a scare. we'll know more when we get her home."

you grab at peter's knee. he places his hand over yours, thumb smoothing along the back of your hand. you look around the tunnel with blurry vision.

peter doesn't like the uncertainty of this. they don't even know the extent of your injuries, just that they might be serious. he knows you're going to be okay, that tony and the med bay team know what to do and you'll bounce back from this because you're you, but he's scared. you've never been hurt this badly before.

"happy's got our location. he'll be here as soon as he can," tony tells you, voice uncharacteristically soft. you blink your eyes in response. "how long is that gonna be?" peter asks.

"i’m not sure, kid."

hot, frustrated tears fill peter's eyes.

"we can't just wait around anymore. she's been like this for a while."

"trust me, pete. i don't like waiting either."

"then let's just bring her back ourselves."

tony gives peter a stern look.

"let's not."

"why not? it's faster if one of us takes her. i’ll swing her there right now."

peter is already scooping you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. you groan at the sudden movement. tony removes you from peter's arms and takes you into his own protectively.

"i said no. we're not flying her home, and we're definitely not swinging her. it isn't safe."

peter stays quiet, blinking back tears.

"you've gotta remember, y/n isn't like you. she doesn't have powers. for the stark's, it's just us out there."

he knows tony is right, of course he is. he forgets how vulnerable you actually are because you're always so strong. riding home with happy may take longer than peter wants it to, but it's safer for you. he needs to think about your best interest. putting other things first caused all of this in the first place.

if peter had found you earlier instead of finishing the fight, maybe he would have been able to get you help sooner. maybe you wouldn't be in this bad of a condition.

"i’m sorry, tony. i’m really, really sorry."

"no biggie, i get it. you're just looking out for her."

"no, that's the problem. i wasn't."

"what're you talking about?"

peter can't hold back his tears any longer.

"i wasn't there when y/n got hurt. it must've happened when we separated. when i found her, she... she was already like this."

"hey, kid. don't do that, don't blame yourself. you didn't know."

"i could've known if i paid more attention. i could've heard, or... or maybe she said something."

peter avoids tony's gaze, too ashamed to look at him, and too guilty to look at you.

"everyone gets caught up, pete. hell, you know i do. but you know what? you're here for y/n now, and we're taking care of her. that's what matters."

"you mean, you're not mad at me?"

tony surprises him by outstretching an arm and pulling him into a side hug. peter manages a small smile, wiping at his watery eyes.

"do i seem mad?"

"guess not. thanks."

tony pats him on the shoulder.

"time to go. happy'll be here any minute."

"okay, i’ll go ahead of you guys so you can see where you're going."

peter starts to collect your things while your dad helps you up. you're disoriented, head pounding, and you stumble a bit because you don't quite have your balance. tony is quick to catch you.

"easy, y/n/n. you're alright, yeah?"

"i want peter."

"he's right here, just leading the way. i’m gonna help you."

"no, i want peter."

peter's heart clenches. he looks to your dad for permission.

"alright, parker. i'll trade you. but be careful, she's precious cargo."

tony lets go of you, but he stays close just in case. he takes your things from peter. you fling yourself into peter's arms, hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. peter hugs you to his chest. tony smiles at peter and nods in approval, making peter smile back.

"i got you," peter coos. "are you gonna need help walking, or you got it?"

"i dunno, i'm dizzy. carry me?"

"sure, baby."

peter picks you up bridal style, one arm secured under you and the other supporting your head. you loosely wrap your arms around his neck.

"can you stay with me when we get there?"

peter kisses the side of your head lightly.

"i’m not going anywhere."

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