#curl bar exercises

[gymft1]

Shoulder exercises with the straight bar, EZ bar, and T bar

Do you have a desire to build and amplify your shoulder muscles in the gym? You need to include shoulder exercises with the straight bar - EZ Bar - T-Bar in your training schedule The question here is why are shoulder exercises with the straight bar - EZ Bar - T Bar considered one of the most important and best training plans to amplify the shoulder muscles? These exercises are considered complex exercises that target the shoulder muscles from all areas. Since the shoulder muscles need many exercises and contribute to many movements, they will need more than one exercise to build and strengthen them from all aspects. The shoulder exercises with the straight bar - EZ Bar - T Bar This will work to amplify and build the shoulder muscles in the way you desire. It will also give you greater physical fitness and strength In this video, we provide you with more shoulder exercises with the straight bar - EZ Bar - T Bar, and if you want to diversify your training program, you are in the right place. I will leave you in the description some links to different shoulder exercises and some other exercises for the rest of the body

[sevens-evan]

gym bros love pretending that lifting form is like this insanely technical art form that takes years to master and it’s like. i mean you get better at it over the course of years that’s true but no lift worth doing has that crazy of a movement pattern. in fact most of them feel very natural and mirror things you already do in real life. it just feels like annoying ass gatekeeping trying to intimidate beginners and it’s so dumb dude

[iboozi]

Songs of Us | Everybody Here Wants You | jjk

↺ pairing: jeongguk / reader (somewhat strangers to lovers)

↺ summary: Everybody wants you, but you only want him

↺ warnings: smut (in a bathroom sorry), unprotected sex (stay safe), oral (f. receiving),

↺ w/c: 8.5k

A/N: Hello... uh... welcome to the second instalment of the Songs of Us series!!! This took 3 weeks to write because I had to keep changing so much, but here it is! My poor wrists are cramped up writing this. And I finally figured out how to do the em dash on mac 😼 so it's over for everyone (jk). I do have other song ideas but I'm always welcome to more! Pls! Enjoy! And I listened to Everybody here wants you by Jeff Buckley on REPEAT whilst editing so this song is stuck in my head. Also I wanted to make this enemies to lovers but something about a lover boy just gets me everytime. I'm drawn to needy guys (not really irl) ! I'll try it again next time 😔

p.s thankyouthankyou to @tranquilreign for encouraging me to keep going!💗 you got this as well!!!

-Zoobi out 🪩

masterlist

Everybody here wants you

Jeon Jeongguk was seething. 

Well — not exactly seething. More like… mildly agitated. The moment just before water reaches boiling point. The kind of emotional turmoil that wouldn’t result in a few holes punched into drywall but did warrant a deep sigh and a stare out the window that would have others questioning his behaviour. 

It wasn’t common for him to feel such freakishly intense emotions – on a Friday night, no less – but alas, he was a growing boy (pushing 30) who was yet to have a hold on his emotions. 

In all honesty, he was a well-regulated person. He was said to be a man of structure (Jimin’s words, not his) and often showed high levels of self-restraint. He did his morning exercise, ate balanced meals nine times out of ten, and even spared time to read self-help books every evening. But tonight? All of that had been thrown right out  the window and stuffed down the garbage chute. 

Why?

Because of a girl.

And no, he wasn’t rejected by her. Quite the opposite actually. She was too nice. Painfully, bewilderingly, disarmingly nice.  

You see, upon meeting this girl, Jeongguk had been confoundingly starstruck. No, really — his mouth had literally fallen open.

He had tried to say something – anything – but all he could let out was a sound that was vaguely similar to the sputtering of a dying car engine. You, of course, had smiled. Not with pity and certainly no mockery either. You gave a smile that radiated warmth and signalled that Jeongguk hadn’t actually embarrassed himself. 

But a nudge and a snicker from Jimin beside him snapped him back to the reality that they were being watched by a few friends, and that he, in fact, did lose some composure in that moment. He couldn’t do anything but flush a soft pink and scratch the back of his head as he muttered a quiet, 

“Uh-hey… nice to meet you,” as if the universe were witnessing his struggle and had decided to put him in a far more awkward situation. 

The universe, in that case, seemed to be Jimin who found Jeongguk tripping over his words much more comical than his mouth falling open. His laughter echoed throughout the bar, much louder than necessary, drawing the attention of a few nearby onlookers who most definitely didn’t need to see Jeongguk socially run himself into the ground. He could’ve sworn he heard someone whisper, “Is that Jeongguk? Didn’t he sing karaoke here the other day? With like a hundred people?”

Jimin — the absolute traitor — was no help whatsoever. He was too busy trying not to keel over onto the ground, an apparent sign that he loved to see Jeongguk suffer. If anything was better than getting under Jeongguk’s skin, it was seeing him fumble and trip over his words in front of a girl. At least Jimin was a true friend. 

But that wasn’t all. 

The worst part was that Jimin was holding onto your arm as he tried to keep his balance. His arm was curled gently around your forearm, and you, being the kind-hearted person you were, your free hand was gripping onto his bicep to keep him steady. 

And even though Jimin was holding onto you for support, there was a level of intimacy behind his hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle his best friend or sprint out the door without looking back. 

He couldn’t help it - his gaze kept drifting back to you. Your focus wasn’t on Jeongguk anymore – no it was now on Jimin. Jimin, whom you were looking at like he was some kind of circus act. 

Your hand was still wrapped loosely around his arm, fingers brushing Jimin’s hidden tattoos, but Jeongguk swore that he could feel the heat from your touch like it was something tangible. It certainly didn’t help that you were laughing along with Jimin, making Jeongguk feel like an outsider in his own group of friends. 

Even Namjoon at the back was stifling his laughter – a man notoriously known for fumbling things. The goddamn audacity of Jimin, ruining Jeongguk’s chance at normality, whilst simultaneously sweeping in and bonding with you like old pals – which, Jeongguk supposed, you were. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk had muttered beneath his breath, voice laced with frustration, “you’re making it worse.”

But of course, Jimin didn’t hear. He didn’t really acknowledge Jeongguk’s visible awkwardness, as he knew Jeongguk would eventually warm up with a few drinks — or at least thought Jeongguk was grown enough to do so.

As a matter of fact, Jeongguk hadn’t warmed up with a few drinks. 

Instead, his beer sat untouched in front of him, condensation dripping slowly down the side, as if it were taunting him. 

You were still talking to Jimin. Still laughing. And still pulling the attention of everyone in the room without meaning to. Jeongguk had caught at least four guys taking a double take as you waltzed past everyone to the restroom. 

And Jeongguk? He was just there. Stuck in his own head. Watching the way you floated through the room with such grace that it felt illegal to look at you for too long. 

And yeah, maybe it was a bit — no, it was very — stupid of him as he just sat in the corner of the booth, fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist,a  storm brewing behind his eyes. 

But as if the universe were playing some big cruel joke on him, a song he knew too well started playing from the speakers behind him. 

“Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss 

A singing smile,

Coffee smell and lilac skin

Your flame in me…”                       

Jeongguk was frozen. He knew that song. Of course he did. His scratched-up vinyl was somewhere under his bed, tucked away with the rest of his albums he liked to pull out on nights when his emotions got the best of him. If anyone were to find his collection, Jeongguk would just laugh and offer to put one on. But this specific song was a bit more worn, corners a bit more frayed, because Jeongguk had simply used the vinyl so much that it was begging to be put back and given rest. 

Now, like a memory brandished in front of him, it was playing in public, in real time. The words reverberated in his skull as you threw your head back to laugh at something Jimin said. The delicate curve of your neck matched the lift of your smile, pulling at something deep in Jeongguk’s chest. It hit Jeongguk – this wasn’t a crush. It couldn’t be classified as infatuation. 

Because this was a full-body ache. 

Years of hearing about you and your travels across the world, what jobs you had bounced between, the languages you spoke like they were your mother tongue. The little anecdotes Jimin would filter into every conversation added up over the years – like the time you roamed the streets of Prague lost in the city lights with nothing but a dying phone battery in one hand and heels in the other. Or when you somehow managed to charm a cranky police officer in Tokyo, speaking perfect Japanese without hesitation. All these stories, all these mentions of you over the years had turned you into a slowly building myth in Jeongguk’s mind. You were a legend in his group. 

A soft, golden legend. Who was now sitting in front of him, laughing. Just existing in the same vicinity as him. So real and so devastatingly beautiful. 

Jeongguk didn’t even know what to focus on, his gaze hyper- fixated on your figure. Your dress, delicate straps sloping down your shoulders. Your necklace, sitting perfectly in the hollow of your neck. Every detail was so meticulously curated, from your hair down to your nails, that all Jeongguk could do was stare. He smiled when you smiled. Laughed when you made jokes. Offered to refill your drink, which you kindly accepted. Even Namjoon had noticed Jeongguk’s attention solely directed to you, but a few nudges from him wouldn’t even deter Jeongguk from continuing to shine the spotlight on you. 

“I’ll be waiting right here to show you

How our love will blow it all away…”

The lyrics hit too close to home. God had a sick sense of humour.

Frankly speaking, Jeongguk hadn’t expected to be put in this situation. Hadn’t expected to be looked at the way you did – not when Jimin showed your pictures and certainly not when he mentioned you were tagging along for the night. 

You were Jimin’s friend. Jimin’s closest friend. The kind who whispered secrets under the covers. The kind who knew what each other was thinking before anything was verbalised. The kind that walked into the room and became the air that everyone breathed. And the kind that never lingered for too long, always hooking the attention of people, leading them in a trail of passports and postcards and “Goodbye don’t miss me!” notes.  

And even though Jeongguk knew this when you looked at him – before the embarrassment, and before Jimin began his normal routine of making jokes at Jeongguk – it wasn’t dismissive. There was curiosity in your gaze. A sort of gentleness that Jeongguk hadn’t had the opportunity to really see. Ever. 

And call it cliché, but he felt seen. Not in the normal performative way that others viewed him in — the golden boy title — but something more subdued. Like the world had halted and you had suddenly found yourself at the same frequency he was vibrating on. 

That was the part that hurt.

He couldn’t even decide if there was more jealousy to be channelled towards Jimin – for grasping and attaining your attention so easily – or himself, for knowing how you could look at him. 

And God, the way the song resounded through the bar. 

“I know everybody here wants you,

I know everybody here thinks he needs you…”

Everyone did want you. Jeongguk could sense it in the way people's eyes lingered on you from across the room like you were some kind of celestial being. The way their eyes lit up as you voiced conversations. He was insane for thinking that he even had a sliver of a chance with you – he was too structured, too soft-spoken, and had a deep fear of too much. 

So he sat there, quietly tracing the rim of his glass, unnoticed by the rest, while the music filled the void of what he wanted to say and what he inevitably never would. 

And as your winding, overly animated exchange with Jimin came to an end, your eyes scanned the booth before landing on Jeongguk. You tentatively offered him a small smile, and Jeongguk’s heart flipped in his chest – a sharp, stabbing pain that he would gladly experience a hundred more times, just for you to give that tender smile of yours to him. 

“Everything okay?” you asked calmly, cheeks flushed from the combination of the hot air and alcohol. 

The question wasn’t for others to hear. Wasn’t dramatic and wasn’t loud.  

And Jeongguk - poor, deteriorating Jeongguk - nodded frantically. 

“Yeah. Just, uh… you know… thinking.”

You tilted your head to the side, bangs untucking from behind your ears and falling ever so carefully down your forehead. 

“Dangerous pastime, I’ve heard. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He gave a breathy laugh. 

“Are—“

Jimin stood up abruptly, thighs knocking into the table, causing Jeongguk’s drink to slosh over its rim. 

“Jeonggukie. We gotta go, dude. She’s blowing up my phone again.”

Jimin was already halfway to the door, coat in hand, and evidently in his own world. Jeongguk didn’t move, fingers still absentmindedly circling the glass’ rim. Only when Jimin interrupted with a loud “Jeongguk!” did he jolt out of his daydream — nightdream? It was well past the hours he would be awake, and Jeongguk was feeling the effects of it. 

“I swear to God, Jimin,” he muttered, running a hand down his face, his words drowned out by Jimin’s boisterous antics. The said person was already making his way back over to the booth to pull Jeongguk up, barely giving him a moment to recover. 

Jimin looked at you, a sheepish grin plastered on his face, and laughed out,

“Sorry, Jeongguk’s just a little—” He gestured his hand vaguely to Jeongguk and the pure awkwardness radiating off  him. “Well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Jimin winked at him, who could only glare in return and yank his arm out of Jimin’s hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way the entire bar seemed to blur around you, but as he reached down for his jacket, the weight of his emotions was heavier than ever. His body was stiff, the physical manifestation of every feeling he couldn’t quite place. But you?

 You were just there — your warmth, your presence, the way your gaze lingered on him with that unspoken curiosity, and Jeongguk found himself paralysed.

The moment you were so close to sharing was gone, dissipated in the door Jimin had left open. 

And the perpetrator was already at the door again, texting away like he had zero notion for the turmoil his best friend was experiencing. It was a good thing that Jeongguk had learned over many torturous years  how to silently communicate his frustration to Jimin, because right now it was at an all-time high. 

Jeongguk wanted to say something to you – anything - but, like always, his words failed him when he needed them the most. 

So when he looked back at you to catch one last glance, he found you staring at him – not Namjoon, who was engaging in conversation with you – the smile from earlier lingering on your face. Jeongguk grinned back but couldn’t quite place what your smile meant. Pity? Or… something else? And that goddamn ridiculous song followed him out the door, mocking him for the predicament he was in. 

He had barely taken two steps toward his bike, which Jimin was resting against when he heard the unmistakable whisper of your voice. It travelled through the air and struck a chord, freezing him, breath caught in his throat and the tension that was slowly leaving came back in full force. 

He turned around, eyes scanning the street barely lit by the overhead lamps. His gaze found yours — heart skipping a beat as he saw you standing there, a few feet away, shuffling in the cold. 

You were staring at him — so calmly, so composed — but there was something in the way you looked at him that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was your drawn-out gaze that lasted just a few seconds too long, or the soft tilt of your head. It was different… but a good different.

“Jeongguk,” you said again, softer this time, like you were testing the air between you. “You left your phone behind.”

His first instinct was to pat the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket. Then he looked up at you, eyes wide with surprise. He smiled that awkward smile of his, like he’d  just been caught cheating in an exam and walked over to you. Your gaze, full of amusement, was locked onto Jeongguk’s figure as he made his way over to you, and he swore he felt you look him up and down — but he didn’t want to feed into the delusion. 

He muttered a small thanks as you handed his phone back to him, but his eyes never left yours. The streetlights shining overhead seemed to illuminate you — a visage kissed by light, highlighting the gentle features of your face:  your delicately sloping nose, the little freckles on your cheeks and the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder like a scarf, woven from midnight and dreams. In Jeongguk’s eyes, you were oneiric, someone spoken of only in myths and tales. 

You took a few steps closer, feet directly opposite Jeongguk’s,  a smile playing on your lips — mischief mingled with something else. Something caring. 

“You looked like you were overwhelmed in there,” you teased, voice but tinged with a softness that made Jeongguk’s chest tighten. 

He let out something between a laugh and a cough, surprised to be caught. Usually he was able to place an impressive façade, but maybe it just wasn’t as good as he thought it was. He fiddled with his jacket, pulling the sleeves over his hands, pretending his skin wasn’t warm to the touch — feverishly red. 

“Yeah…I-I’m fine,” he said, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. He was anything but fine. 

You watched him with a steady gaze and hummed softly, as if trying to figure him out. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, stepping closer. “I don’t want to assume, but it… it didn’t seem like that.”

Jeongguk’s heart thudded against his ribcage — from panic, but something he was yet to identify. How could you have such an impact on him after only just meeting?

"I…" He paused, swallowing the build-up of spit in his throat "I don’t know. I’ve just—" He let out a small, frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I guess I was just nervous.”

You blinked, eyes softening in understanding.

“Nervous about what?”

Jeongguk gestured vaguely toward the bar.

"Being around people. Making conversations. I get all... tangled up in my head and forget how to just relax." He laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh — more self-deprecating, if he was being honest. "I probably just needed another drink.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes boring holes into Jeongguk. 

Y’know,” you started, voice closer to a whisper, “Jimin didn’t tell me that about you.”

Jeongguk balked, eyes widening in sudden surprise.

“He talked about me?”

You laughed, ripples of joy escaping your lips, getting lost in the night breeze, and looked up at Jeongguk with a big smile on your face.

“Of course he has.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He figured he should’ve expected it. If Jimin talked endlessly about you to everyone, then surely he’d talk about Jeongguk as well, right?

All the awful stories that had accumulated over the years on drunken nights, the occasional nights fuelled by pure adrenaline, and the nights he would rather not bring up rushed back into Jeongguk’s head. He fought the urge to groan. Goddamnit, Jimin.

You shrugged, the playful glint in your eye never fading. “I know a lot more about you than you think, Jeonggukie. Jimin just doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

You paused, taking in his bewildered expression.

“And I know you know about me too.”

That was the last straw—the final piece of décor on the cake. Jeongguk hung his head in embarrassment. All that, and he still managed to fuck up his first impression.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence wrap around you both—and the awkwardness around Jeongguk. There was something serene in the air between you, a quiet understanding that perhaps you weren’t really strangers.

And then you moved—just barely, but enough to close the space between you two, causing your shoes to brush the tips of his.

Jeongguk froze.

Gone was the laughter in your eyes. But it wasn’t replaced with mockery. It was curiosity. Raw curiosity, almost like you were inviting him to say something he’d been festering on all night.

Then your voice, soft and harmonious:

“Maybe next time… try saying hi before your nervous system gives up.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the first genuine one of the day—lifting some of the weight he had been unconsciously carrying.

You smiled at him like you meant it and ever so carefully inched your hand out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.

Jeongguk stood still, phone still clutched in his hand, grip tighter than ever, and nodded slowly. Your hand slowly made its way down and rested on his jaw a few seconds too long—long enough for Jeongguk to get nervous, red tainting the tips of his ears. Thank God it was dark.

“Okay,” he breathed out shakily. “Next time.”

You took a step back, hands clasped behind your back, eyes still on his. “I’ll keep you to that, Jeongguk.”

Then you turned, hair catching the light like strands of spun gold, and made your way back to the bar—leaving behind the soft smell of jasmine and a boy who could finally breathe.

Art exhibitions were one of Jeongguk’s favourite places to be. At first, he only came because Namjoon would plead him to come — to which he would, begrudgingly — but overtime he had come to find peace in the simplicity of the experience and was constantly finding new ones to go to (with Jimin as well).

The gallery was picturesque, with soft, warm lighting — strangely reminding Jeongguk of the night with you outside the bar – with the shadows across the walls where canvases breathed tales in splashes of watercolour and acrylic. The air had the subtle after-scent of paint and polished wood, mingled with faint undertones of perfumes and freshly opened bottles of wines.

Jeongguk was lingering near a large painting – an explosive composition of blues and reds, very much paying a homage to the inner disarray he had been experiencing over the last few weeks. 

First, hearing from Jimin that you were on a flight to god knows where less than twelve hours after your initial meeting quickly dampened his giddy mood. He was hoping to see you again — even just for a quick coffee— but was now stuck resorting to stalking to your Instagram. 

He couldn’t even do that properly, considering your account was strictly private and Jeongguk felt that he wasn’t at that level of status with you. He couldn’t even stalk from Jimin’s phone because he knew that his best friend wouldn’t keep his gob shut and would relay the information back to you in less than two minutes. So he was stuck with his memories. Which was quite poor, considering how tired he was on that darned night, but your face and the lingering smell of you was enough —for now.

What made this indescribable feeling of yearning worse was the fact that Jimin didn’t even know when you’d be back. Seriously. What was he even useful for? Despite all the claims of knowing you the best, he never once thought to figure out your spontaneity — or at least tried to make rough estimations based on patterns. If Jeongguk ever tried to slip your name in a conversation (very discreetly—at least he thought so), Jimin would just laugh to himself and mutter some incoherent words before going back to typing furiously on his phone. Literally. That’s all he would do. 

It was frustrating to Jeongguk to no end, but he learnt to keep his mouth shut and instead wallow in the idea of what could be (which really wasn’t looking like much)

So, he figured he would distract himself with what he knew best. And no, it wasn’t the gym—even though it came a close second—but it was the tranquillity of these small art galleries, the ones that were tucked away in the quietest streets, waiting for travellers to settle inside and welcome a new world 

He always liked being the one to pursue things, not the one being sought for.

Thus, he stood in a quiet corner of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, body stiff and mind racing with thoughts. He told himself that this was a casual event, but he couldn’t help but put on his best dress shoes—and yes, he might’ve gelled his hair a bit and put on his best black shirt, but it made him feel good. He needed this boost of confidence considering how pathetic he had felt lately and dressing up to have somewhat done the trick. 

But it still didn’t stop the unease running through him. It was unsettling – he wasn’t one to feel nervous in a place he found comfort, but there was something about the air that made tonight’s exhibition a bit more… lonely. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Namjoon and Jimin had ditched him for their dates—he didn’t even know that it was allowed in friend group meetups, but… it wasn’t like he had one anyway. 

And like someone had just replaced the tonearm on a continuous vinyl, the very song that Jeongguk had been trying to avoid filtered through the speakers once more and wandered over to his ears.  

…it had to be a joke. Right? No way this song was following him around like it had a warrant on him. Seriously. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this torture, and frankly, he didn’t have the mental strength to think about it. 

Jeongguk didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take his hand out of his pockets. Just stared at the painting like he was trying to be absorbed by it, disappear amongst the weird, colourful swirls and blend in to hide from whatever divine intervention was going on around him, just preying on him in his most pitiful moments. 

“I know everybody here wants you…”

He tightened his jaw, muscles fluttering in annoyance. 

It was decided. The universe had a sick, personal vendetta against him. How the hell did this song play everytime his thoughts drifted to you? Sure he might’ve thought of you more often than he’d like to admit, but he was trying to distract himself, goddamnit!

He huffed. Not even the multitude of colours in front of him could tug his attention from you. 

It wasn’t really about the song. Not really. It was more so to do with what it meant to him. 

The night outside the bar. 

The way you caressed his hair even though he wanted it to lay like that. 

The way you whispered his name like it was a secret between the two of you

The way you saw him.

And then— the way you left as quickly as you came.

He barely got to say his goodbye. You were there one minute, and suddenly he had blinked, and you were gone. All that was left was the feeling of your fingertips grazing his skin and the filtered story that Jimin showed you with a geotag somewhere oceans away. 

Jeongguk exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t in love or anything he was past the stage of teenage limerence. 

…Right?

A soft clack of heels pulled him from the drifting seas of his mind.

He didn’t react at first. Footsteps were common in galleries, voices humming like bees in fields of sunflowers. But there was something different about the rhythm. It made the hairs on his neck stand straight up. There was delicacy behind the footfalls nearing him.

He turned.

And nearly forgot how to fucking breathe.

You.

Long black dress, tan coat slung over your shoulder, and your hair just effortlessly pooling down your back like ink in water. 

“And our eyes are locked in downcast love…”

Your eyes met his, the twinkle in them almost blinding him before he could pretend to look away and be interested in anything else.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The song, of course, droned on in the background like a cruel soundtrack to his unbecoming.

You tilted your head, lips lifting into a knowing smile, like you were fully aware of the effect you had on Jeongguk, even by just standing there. Just by simultaneously coexisting in front of him.

“Jeongguk.”

He swore you said his name like it was yours.

“You’re here,” was all he managed. His words were barely spoken, drifting like mist and condensing on the painting next to him. Honestly, it felt a bit pathetic—what he said—but you smiled wider, nonetheless.

“Jimin slipped it into conversation,” you replied, stepping closer. He could see the glitter you lined your eyes with. “Told me you’ve been moping around in galleries like a sad little poet.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “No, he didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” you laughed a little. “Even told me that you wore your ‘special’ shoes tonight.”

Jeongguk looked down, half expecting his brogues to start sinking into the ground out of sheer humiliation.

You stopped beside him, nudging him softly. “I like them.”

His laugh was disbelieving—the kind that crinkled the skin around his eyes and displayed the little freckle under his lip.

“Didn’t think you were gonna be back anytime soon,” he said quietly, hoping in the way he phrased it.

You shrugged. “Only for a little while. Maybe longer.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d spent months thinking about all the things he might’ve said if you were ever in his presence again, but now that you really were—so achingly near, close enough to smell that jasmine scent again—his brain had fried itself and was devoid of any thoughts.

But you, as always, were the lighthouse in a storm.

“Hi,” you simply said. This wasn’t a greeting. It was a reset.

Jeongguk swallowed nervously.

“Hi.”

Joy bloomed in the creases by your eyes.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He smiled at you sheepishly.

You turned your attention to the painting he’d been staring at before—the chaotic mix of colours that had once mirrored his internal disarray. He glanced at it and noticed how the mess seemed to fade towards the edge into two distinct lines of tranquillity. Huh.

“It’s pretty intense,” you said, studying the canvas.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk replied. “S’pose that makes sense, though.”

You glanced at him. “Because you’re feeling like it?”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “You kinda… do that to me.”

Your smile wavered for a millisecond—not in a bad way. In a breath-caught kind of way. A quiet pause before your expression softened.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because you—”

The ringing of your name being called across the gallery ceased the little conversation you were having.

You sighed, eyebrows furrowing, and looked over.

Jeongguk reluctantly tore his gaze from your face and followed yours over to see a man striding over. He was tall. Well-dressed. And very clearly knew you, the way he sauntered over, arms wide open in welcome. His coat flared slightly as he walked to your corner and had that laid-back, easy grin that made Jeongguk’s eye twitch in irritation.

Without hesitation, you stepped towards him, situating yourself into his arms that wrapped all the way around you. It was déjà vu—the way the hug looked so familiar to him. It was too close. And too long.

Jeongguk stood motionless.

His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, fingers alternating between being clenched into fists or flexing involuntarily with nerves… or something more. He tried to understand what the hell was happening in front of him—and what you were on the verge of saying—but he was all too distracted by the lack of space between you and that stranger.

When you finally pulled away, the guy leaned in to say something close to your ear. Jeongguk didn't miss the way your eyes flickered briefly back to him and away, like it never happened. You faltered.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you told him quickly, that ever-present softness in your voice still lingering, but dimmed. “I’ll catch you later, Jeonggukie, okay?”

He nodded. Tried to smile, but it came out more like a wince. Tried to let the sting not pierce his skin too deeply.

“Sure,” he replied. “Later.”

And with that, you walked off, arm in the stranger’s, and Jeongguk’s heart in your hand.

His posture sagged in small defeat, and he glanced towards Jimin, who was nearing him, sipping his wine and observing the turmoil Jeongguk was experiencing.

Jimin caught his eyes and raised a singular eyebrow with a smirk.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

Jeongguk forced out a bitter laugh and brought his hands into his pockets.

“I’m fine.”

He knew he was lying. Jimin knew he was lying. The random women giving him a look as they walked past knew he was lying as well.

Every laugh that flowed from your lips felt like a knife digging into an old wound. When the stranger brushed a small strand of your hair behind your ear, Jeongguk scoffed, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looked away.

He found himself shuffling closer to Jimin, letting the small talk between him and his best friend become a barrier to hide behind.

Your eyes met his once across the room, and you offered him a small smile—but Jeongguk looked away before the moment could unfold into anything more. Instead, he watched you weave in and out of the crowd, integrating into fruitless conversation yet still capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Maybe I should’ve asked who he was,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath to Jimin, who just chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Chill, man,” he teased. “You’ll see her again. I’m sure.”

Jeongguk wanted to believe it—really he did—but it was hard to when that ‘later’ never came.

You disappeared into the night with the man—that Jeongguk never figured out the name of—like mist beneath the stars. And Jeongguk had waited, eyes constantly scanning the gallery until closing. Even helped the staff clean up the bar and stack some chairs, just in case you popped back in.

You didn’t.

Jeongguk was seething.

Well—not exactly seething. More so… mildly agitated. The kind of agitation that was so close to spilling over the surface and onto everyone around him.

The house was too warm.

The people too loud.

The lights too dim.

He wasn't even sure why he was there– sure it was his house, but Namjoon had convinced him to host a small party with familiar faces, ‘friends-of-friends’ so he would finally loosen up.

He’d spent the last half of the hour sipping on the same drink and dodging the half-drunk people that attempted to make conversation with him. 

That, and the god-awful playlist Jimin had put on. It was like Jimin was stuck being heartbroken or pumping his fist at a rave with the kind of music you just had to vibe with.

 And currently Jeongguk did not vibe with it. 

He kinda nodded his head to heartbreak songs though - he supposed he could relate just a tad. 

He hadn’t heard from you since the night at the gallery.

 Nothing. 

And it’s not like you were obligated to - numbers weren’t even exchanged - but Jeongguk’s hope was a persistent little bastard that maybe, just maybe thought you would ask Jimin for his number and check up on him.

And it wasn’t like Jeongguk hadn’t tried the same. He gave up on the subtle hints to Jimin and had straight up asked for your number, even though he was turned down - rather quickly- with the words,

“If it was meant to be, she would come to give it to you herself.”

Jeongguk sighs at the memory, nursing his drink and glaring into the clear liquid as if it had caused him personal anguish. The laughter of those around him fades in and out of his hearing. Everything is duller, like the colour had been vacuumed out from the room. He’s partly tempted to pull an Irish goodbye at his own party and just leave. Maybe grab his walkman on the way out to play a song that didn’t emotionally scar him.

But then he sees you.

You, standing by the kitchen island, in conversation with Namjoon. You, lit like a spotlight found you despite the purposely dim lighting. And you, head tipped back slightly, laughing at something Namjoon is saying. Gone is the tan coat, replaced by an off- the- shoulder black top that clings to your figure. Gone are the effortless waves, swapped for your hair pinned back, emphasising the delicate nature of your neck.

Jeongguk freezes, glass halfway to his mouth, breath lodging in his throat. You looked dreamlike, standing out amongst the crowd, like an advert he’d seen on television one too many times. He wouldn’t dare to skip out on you— not after knowing the smile you could give him.

When did you get here?

He doesn’t even realise Jimin has slipped into the little corner of the couch that Jeongguk was practically sprawled on until a shoulder nudges his own.

“You’re doing it again,” Jimin teases, sounding far too happy considering his playlist.

“What thing?” Jeongguk hisses, eyes locking onto the way you seamlessly flit around the kitchen.

“The ‘I’ve-dreamed-about-her-every-day-and-can’t-believe-she’s-here’ thing.”

Jeongguk scowls and shoves Jimin lightly, but his eyes don't stray. You haven’t noticed him yet. 

He can’t decide if that’s  mercy or torment.

“She knows, doesn’t she?” he asks.

The smug silence of his friend is enough.

“She asked me if you’d ever want to see her face again. I said you were a sucker for pretty faces and that she should come and find out for herself.”

Jeongguk gapes. 

“You’re such a menace.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it? She’s here. In the flesh.” Jimin grins, clapping a hand down on Jeongguk’s back. “Maybe she wanted free drinks. Or… see you.”

Jeongguk ignores Jimin’s banter, eyes still tracking your every movement. The way your fingers tap against your glass. Or the way your gaze occasionally drifts from whoever you were talking to, and sweeps across the room —but never quite meets his. 

And still, Jeongguk doesn’t approach you. Can't get himself to move up from that sofa. The weight in his chest keeps him tethered down. The unspoken words claw at his throat like before.

So he sips his drink. And waits.

The party hums around him, low and warm like the static of one of his vinyls that was left on  too long. 

You pass by him once, ever so briefly.

And in that one incandescent moment, your hand brushes his — hanging over the back of the couch—as you slide past on the way to the hallway. He doesn’t look up, but he knows it’s you, he feels it’s you. The absence of your touch shouldn’t linger the way it does

He doesn’t see where you go. Doesn’t even register why he’s following the scent of your perfume until his feet lead him to the hallway. Past the kitchen, past the shoes by the door, and away from the loud thrum of the party.

The bathroom door near the back end of his apartment iss half-open, an amber glow spilling through.

He raps his knuckles against the door.

“Occupied?”

A soft voice calls out.

“Yeah - give me a sec!”

But that voice…he knows it. He knows it too well.

Jeongguk pushes the door slightly - just a little further.

And there you are. Standing at the mirror, fingers fixing the wing of your eyeliner, with the smallest concentration crease forming between your brows. You see him in the reflection and halt your actions.

“Sorry-” he starts, already turning around to go back.

But you spin around, swiping a finger across the corner of your eyes.

“Wait Jeongguk.”

He freezes. The air is heavy, electricity tingling in the way that makes the space feel so much smaller than it already is..

“I was gonna leave,” you say after a beat, eyes searching his. “I…I didn't think you wanted to talk to me.”

“I thought you didn’t.”

A momentary pause. The tension doesn’t dissipate, only grows thicker, encircling the two of you like entertainment in a cage.

“I was waiting,” you start, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I wasn’t sure if…”

You don’t finish your sentence.

Jeongguk steps in. Closes the door behind him with a muted click.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice barely a decibel above a breath.

You smile at him. “I was told by a certain someone that if I wanted your number, I should come get it myself.”

Jeongguk gives a quiet laugh and steps closer to you.

“Funny. I was also told something similar. What are the chances it was the same person?”

You move forward, and lean up to him.

“A hundred percent.”

Your laughter at his expression is more subdued this time, eyes fluttering down to the space between you both—or the lack of. It’s close. So close. He can smell the fragrance radiating off of you, the floral scent ingrained into his head. He’s not sure if  it’s his pulse or yours echoing so loudly in the confined room.

“I was going to ask for it,” you say, voice softer now. “At the gallery.”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Jeongguk blurts.

It slips out. Honest. Raw. And unguarded.

Your eyes snap up to his, plush lips parting slightly, startled but… not afraid. Not uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You left with someone else.”

You nod. “That wasn’t what you think.”

Jeongguk doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He’ll face the repercussions later—as long as he’s allowed in your presence for more than twenty minutes.

Your hands move. Brush down your sides, like you’re trying to ground yourself. Or preparing for something. His hands twitch. He wants to touch you. He wants to remember how your fingers felt against his jaw. But he waits. Waits for you to make the first move.

He’s done seeking first.

Your hand lifts slowly to his chest, palm lying flat over his sternum, right where his heartbeat betrays him. You can feel it. He’s sure.

“You’re still nervous,” you whisper.

“I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life.”

The air cracks.

Your fingers slide up lazily. Up to the collar of his shirt  Tugging him. Testing the waters.

“Hi,” you say.

That’s all he needs.

He’s moving before he can process his actions, lips pressing to yours in a kiss that doesn’t ask permission—but it doesn’t need to. It’s slow at first. Hesitant. Like he’s making sure you’re  really there. That this isn’t another cruel memory that would fade before he even woke up.

But when you sigh against his mouth, tilting your head just enough and nudging your nose against his—

Something inside of him explodes.

His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, mouth pressing with more desperation, tongue sweeping past your lips when you part them with a soft whimper that nearly undoes him. Your hands  tangle in his hair, anchoring yourself as he kisses you like he’d been waiting a lifetime.

The counter is cold against the back of your thighs as he lifts you onto it, barely stopping to catch his breath. His hand wedges around your hips, thumbs dragging across the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up.

You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, heat unfurling between you like a wildfire.

He pulls back when you tug lightly on his hair, lips red and kiss-swollen, eyes hazy but focused.

“Hi,” you breathe out.

Jeongguk grins against your mouth.

“Hi baby,”

He reaches behind him, turning the lock on the door before moving for you again. His hands move with a practiced ease - the nerves from before nowhere to be found - as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm fingers tracing the soft curve of your waist. His lips never leave yours, kisses rougher now, and more urgent.

Your breath mingles with his, hands clenching the fabric of his shirt, drawing him in closer, a siren in disguise.

His body presses firmly against yours, hips aligning, heat between you flaring.

With a quiet grunt, Jeongguk shifts, lifting you higher on the counter. His hands roam lower, fingers teasing the edge of your skirt, fingers dipping below the waistband. You arch into his touch, breath hitching and fingers tightening.

His mouth finds your jaw and he trails down, nipping gently before moving again - neck, collarbone, the skin below your shirt - a trail of fire in his wake.

Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, tugging, urging him deeper and harder. Jeongguk’s hands drift beneath your skirt, skimming the smoothness of your skin— inching toward that sensitive spot that makes you shiver.

He looks up at you, knees resting on the ground. Neither of you speak. The world’s shrunk to the heat of skin on skin, and the desperation laced into your frantic breaths.

He lifts your skirt up tentatively, eyes meeting yours in a silent ask. You nod. Oh how badly you need this.

Jeongguk’s fingers rub against your hip bones as he inches forwards. He presses soft kisses up your thigh, pausing when he meets your sweet spot.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper, voice shaky with anticipation.

He nudges his nose against you, “I’m here.”

He glances up at you once more, long enough to meet your eyes - dark, smouldering, and utterly focused on you - before diving in again. His tongue brushes against your underwear, rubbing up against you in a slow, teasing dance, exploring the promise in every touch.

You cry out, hands tightening at the edge of the counter, legs fighting the urge to close around his head. Jeongguk clamps his hands around your outer thighs, stabilising and ruining you at the same time.

He smiles against the lace of your underwear as you grip his hair, tongue lapping up any hint of your approaching climax. He licks deeper and triumphs as you call his name out once more, thighs trembling by his ears.

Burrowing himself deeper under your skirt, he almost halts his actions.

What if you think that he only wanted you for sex? What if this is a fleeting moment that won’t be rediscovered?

But before the irrational thoughts can settle, your hands pull on his hair, begging for him to come back up. He complies, clambering up, shaking his knees out and looks at you.

Meeting your tear stricken eyes, guilt settles in his chest,

“Are you-”

“I need you in me. Now. Jeongguk…please.”

And there it is.

His chest tightens like a wave crashing against the shore, relentless and full of emotion. This isn’t just affection he feels for you, this is an all-consuming force that pushes past reason.

He nods and reaches for his jeans. Doesn’t bother with pulling his jeans all the way off, just slides them down past his butt. Reaches for his length, stiff with need and leaking with arousal.

 One. Two. Three pumps and he grasps for the back of your thighs before pushing into you. He lets out a low moan into your ear, loudening as you squeeze around him. He falls forwards, hands falling beside you.

“B-baby, don’t do that, I’ll finish,” he murmurs along your neck, nibbling gently at the column of your throat.

Your arms clasp around his neck, nails clawing at his shoulders.

“Sorry… I’m just nervous,”

Jeongguk leans back. Smiles down at you and reaches for your hand. Fingers spanning the entirety of your wrist, he places your palm against his heart, mimicking your actions before.

“Me too,”

You melt at his words. Literally. Jeongguk feels you loosen up around him, nails no longer digging half crescents into his skin. He lets out a short breath and pulls back to the tip, before pressing into you again… and again.

You moan, head tilting back, one hand holding his, resting on your waist, the other, turning white with how tightly you were gripping the counter.

Jeongguk grabs the back of your neck, encouraging you to meet his eyes. He had your attention now —only his—and he wasn’t going to lose it.

There’s something so vulnerable about this position. Neither of you are fully unclothed, but you’re practically baring your hearts to each other.

Setting a steady pace, Jeongguk snaps his hips into you, grunting with every thrust, moving you further up the ledge next to the sink. He reaches around for your ass and pulls you closer. The movement shifts your positions slightly, where he’s deeper, and firmer inside of you..

“J-Jeongguk,” you rasp.

He thrusts harder, lewd noises of skin meeting skin filling the air.  Reaches down and rubs a finger against you,

“Come on baby. You can do it,”

Your back arches, curving into Jeongguk’s hands as you release—hot, sticky cum coating him and the inside of your thighs. You pulse frantically around him, pushing him forwards, moaning as your orgasm rips through you. 

Your arms give out, collapsing against the mirror above the sink with a broken whimper as you try and come down from your high.

“Oh fuck,” Jeongguk groans, pulling out, leaving you mourning the loss of him inside of you.

He jerks himself, hand fisted tightly around his cock, wrists moving with a rapid pace, hips stuttering and he chases his own climax.

You watch with bated breaths as his head tilts back, lip bitten raw in pleasure. A deep groan escapes him as his pace slows down, hips twitching forwards and he spills across your thighs in thick ropes. He fucks himself through his orgasm, one hand holding yours as he paints your skin milky.

He exhales as the last of his cum leaks out, and lets go of your hands to wipe the sweat lining his forehead.

He meets your eyes and lets out a little chuckle.

Leans forwards and pecks your nose. Your cheek. And then your forehead . You giggle at him and reach for a towel - to which he snatches it out of your hands, before running it under hot water. He swipes it across your thighs in gentle strokes, like he didn't just obliterate you and cleans himself up.

He pulls his jeans up, buckles his belt and pulls down your skirt. Reaching for your waist, he helps you hop off the counter.

You move towards the door, but he pulls you back. 

You meet his eyes. He swallows.

“I don’t want this to end. Ever.”

You look at him through your lashes and tuck a strand of his hair back.

“I’m gonna need your number first baby.”

Jeongguk grins, a smile lighting up his face as he wrenches the door open, hurrying for his phone that he left around somewhere.

Sunlight spills softly through the blind, casting warm stripes across the room where Jeongguk lies, you tucked under his arm. The quiet buzz of the city is distant, an otherworldly place that you’ve both stepped away from for a while. His arm rests loosely over your waist, arms sliding the hem of his t-shirt up as he traces small circles on your thigh.

For once, the voracious thoughts that constantly plagued his mind seem to have quietened down, leaving the calm weight of you beside him and the thrilling, quiet certainty of what happened last night.

You meet his eyes, and he smiles, dimples burrowing in his cheeks. No words are exchanged. This moment - this morning - is enough.

Jeongguk nudges his nose against yours,

“Can you accept my instagram request?”

You look up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion,

“Wha-”

The door creaks open and Jimin steps inside with an infuriatingly wide grin.

He laughs, breaking the tranquility of the morning. 

“By the way, Jeonggukie, I know what your favourite song is.”

Jeongguk stares at him, processing his words as Jimin’s teasing smile grows bigger.

“Okay?”

“And I’m also really good at making people play whatever songs I want.”

Jeongguk freezes. No way. He can’t be… that fucking little-

[unintentionalseductress]

I saw this tiktok video a looong time ago with these two women firefighters who have toned bodies and it got me thinking of a scenario with the l&ds boys.

Imagine MC/Reader fighting some wanderes or working out at the Hunters training center and Tara or some civilian noticed just how well tone she is and decide to make a post or video about her. Now MC/Reader is know as the "Hot Hunter"

I would love to see the boys reaction to MC/Reader new found attention and all the horny comments she is getting.

Hot Hunter

Warnings: mild boner descriptions, some grinding and twerking, suggestive dialogue, mostly harmless A/n: Thank you so much for sending this in @deputy-videogamer! It was fun imagining the men's reactions to this scenario. Hope you enjoy this! Just an FYI this was combined with another similar request for Zayne getting hard at the gym for MC. Not really proofread.

You carefully set up your camera and peeked at the screen one last time before picking up a pair of weights off the rack. Although working out was mostly necessary because of your job, it was more bearable now that you had a buddy.

You glance over at Zayne, who's flexing his shoulders, having finished a set on the chin-up bar. He catches your eye, his lips forming a subtle smile before he grabs the bar and lifts himself up again. You allow yourself a brief moment of indulgence, admiring how the fabric scrunches over his broad shoulders before returning to your own workout.

You're live now and already have viewers coming in. Tara insisted that posting hunter workouts was a great way to get audience engagement since many people are focusing on their health nowadays. You demonstrated some basic exercises and how to position the weights, correcting your form as you did so.

Sweat forms on your forehead as you go through the motions, your toned muscles tightening under the skin as you curl and relax. After a few sets, you decide squats are in order. You replace the dumbells and instead, pick up a heavier kettlebell. Turning so that your audience could clearly see your form and how you were adjusting your feet, you bend, feeling your thigh muscles stretch, and your ass tensing as you went down before slowly coming back up. Suddenly there’s a surge in the audience, the numbers rising up and the phone starts to ping continuously as comments flood the live stream. 

Wondering what could have happened, you’re about to get up but are spared as out of nowhere, Zayne suddenly snatches up your phone. His sharp eyes scan the screen, and there’s tension in the set of his mouth as he reads the comments.

“Zayne?” You ask from the floor, still squatting. He makes his way over to you. 

“Is there a reason you’re recording your workout?” Zayne asks, his eyes still moving over the screen. 

“Oh Tara suggested it. We get a lot of questions about our work out routine since we’re hunters. Why?”

“Well…it appears you may have gotten some…raunchy comments.” 

“What? No way!” Your eyes widen. “What are they saying?”

Zayne’s eyes flick uncertainly to your face before he clears his throat. “Well. Most of them seem to have a fruit.”

“A fruit?”

“A peach, to be precise.” A snort of laughter forces its way from your body. 

“Are you serious? There’s no way!” Zayne resignedly shows you the comments and indeed, every other one seemed to be the peach emoji.

“That hunter ass.” You’re amused as you read another one. “Hunter got the buns and the bakery. Look at that cake. Hunter workouts: the key to having a juicy peach.” The comments keep pouring in, and Zayne’s eyes darken as they get progressively thirstier. One in particular, coming from an anonymous commenter, said, “you can squat on my face miss hunter.” With a huff, Zayne ends the livestream. 

“Hey!” You protest as he pockets the device. “It was starting to get good.”

“I see. So lewd compliments about your rear are ‘good’.” Zayne’s eyes have a glint in them, and sulking, you stand, all motivation for your workout disappearing like rain. 

“I don’t see why those comments had to be so inappropriate.” Zayne bites out as he crosses his arms disprovingly. 

“It’s the internet.” You grumble as you start to put the weights back on the rack. “Who’s polite on the internet?” You back up and bump into a sturdy wall of muscle. Before you can register what’s happening, Zayne’s deep voice growls in your ear. 

“Have I not complimented you enough? Why are you looking for validation from strangers?” Caged between the rack and his body, you squirm, your ass inadvertently brushing against the junction of his thighs. Instantly, you feel him hardening, the warm, firmness of his cock pushing up invitingly against your bottom. 

“Well Dr. Zayne, it looks like you were saving your best compliment for last,” you tease and innocently reach down to pick up a lighter weight, your bottom rubbing provocatively against his erection as you bend over and straighten. You stifle a giggle as Zayne spins you around, biting your lip and looking at him with mischievous eyes. Zayne's hands tighten on your hips.

“This ‘cake’ belongs exclusively to me. We’ve worked out enough. I need to raise my sugar levels."

Rafayel didn’t like working out. He made this very obvious as he grumbled during your daily jog. It’s been 10 minutes and his cheeks are red, locks of his hair out of place, and plastered to his forehead with sweat. His breath comes in pants as he tries to keep up with you. 

“For being my bodyguard, you seem to always find new ways to kill me!” You look back over your shoulder and see him starting to slow down. Taking pity on him, you run in place and allow him to catch up. When he does, Rafayel moans and leans against a tree. “Are we done yet? This is torture!” 

You check your phone and try not to laugh at his state. “This is hardly anything Raf. We still have 2 miles to go.”

“2 miles?!” Rafayel crosses his arms and shakes his head no. “I refuse to believe it. You’re just saying that to trick me into running more than what was promised!”

Rolling your eyes but still amused, you playfully poke his ribs. “I’m really not. C’mon it’s a beautiful day out! We’re getting all this fresh air and enjoying all the greenery-”

“Fresh and green is for bunnies! I’m exhausted. Just let me rest ok?” He drinks from his water bottle and you wait patiently for him, stretching as he does so. Two men who had been sprinting briskly around the path when you had started now slow down as they near. They glance appreciatively at you, grinning at Rafayel. 

“You can run this round with us if you want. Let your friend rest.” One of them says sportingly, glancing at Rafayel’s disheveled state. Rafayel bristles at the implication. 

“Hey! I was just catching my breath!”

“Of course you were!” The other man interjects quickly, trying to quell Rafayel’s ire. “You just looked like you could use the break. She looks like she has a lot of energy! Could run this whole trail before either of us make it to the halfway mark.”

Noticing the ominous shadow starting to grow on his face, you laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Thanks. But I’m taking a break too. This was probably going to be my last mile.”

“Really?” The first man looks surprised. “With the way you were going, I thought you were going for at least 2 more. Are you a marathoner?”

You shake your head politely. “Hunter.”

“Oh! No wonder!” Both men smile dazzlingly. “Obviously hunters have to stay in good shape!”

“We do,” you say lightly, pretending to ignore Rafayel glowering behind you. “It’s a very physically demanding job.”

“Yeah,” Rafayel pipes up suddenly. “And she has very little time to herself. So we have to get going if it’s not too much trouble.”

Understanding the hint, the men nod at Rafayel. “Well enjoy your weekend then! Feel free to join us if you change your mind.” They run off and Rafayel glares at them. 

“Feel free to join us,” he says in a mocking tone as he watches them sprint away. “We’re never coming back to this park again.”

“Oh Rafayel, they were just being friendly.” You start to power walk and Rafayel follows suit. 

“No they weren’t! Didn’t you hear them? Let your friend rest. You look like you have a lot of energy! They were totally hitting on you!” You snort at his tone because he sounded so adorable right now.

“There’s nothing funny about strange men trying to hit on my girl. You’re already thinking of leaving me aren’t you?” Rafayel pouts, and you stop in your tracks before you fall over laughing. Cupping his sulky face between your hands, you quickly peck him on the lips, catching him off guard, because he’s blushing when you move away.

“I’d never leave you Raf. My breathless little fishball.”

“You can’t just insult me to my face and think it’s all ok!”

“Oh, so many people stitched my workout videos!” You’re lazing on Sylus’s lap as he works out the knots in your shoulders from your most recent sparring session. You wince as he squeezes a tender spot. 

“Ouch.”

“Ouch? What happened to no pain no gain?” Sylus teases you. 

“It doesn’t always have to hurt.” You absently open a random stitch notification and watch as a burly, muscled, man talks into the camera while holding a plank. 

“Ok Miss Hunter! You said you can plank for 10 minutes no sweat! I’m gonna beat that record!” The man on the screen balances himself and the timer on the video starts. The sound of his heavy breathing fills the room and Sylus raises an eyebrow. 

“Sweetie, you know you can tell me if you’re watching adult videos right?” You pinch his thigh, satisfied when he twitches.

“No need to get defensive.” His hands wander to your lower back and he continues to massage you. You watch the video intently. The man who had stitched your video was already starting to lose balance; his forearms were quivering from the effort. The timer continues counting, but right at the eight-minute mark the man groans and breaks position. He laughs and winks at the camera. 

“Maybe you should give me a private lesson Miss Hunter!” he says jokingly before the video ends. The comments section is filled with comedic jabs at the man, saying he better last longer than that in other aspects.

“Pathetic,” Sylus murmurs and you startle, unaware that he had been looking at your phone. 

“It’s hard to plank Sylus.” You say discipliningly. “It took me 6 whole months before I could hold for 10 minutes.” 

Sylus doesn’t reply but his hands still as you open another stitch. A man giving off jock vibes fills the screen. “Ok! Miss Hunter said she could complete this whole circuit in 12 minutes! I’ve set up my workspace exactly the same way. If I beat her time, then I’ll ask her out to dinner! Wish me luck guys!” You watch in amusement as the guy starts his workout, puffing and grunting as he does so. 

He was behind 2 phases when the timer rang and he stopped, flopping to the floor. “Whoo! This kicked my ass! Looks like I didn’t beat her time. But hey, maybe Miss Hunter will take pity on me and ask me out herself?”

Your notifications ping suddenly and you check them, surprised to see Sylus’s name popping up several times. “What are you doing?” You open one of your workout videos, then stifle a laugh as you see the replies Sylus has been giving to the commenters.

“You’re too fine to be working out alone.” Sylus: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got me right there to spot her.”

“Are you a fitness trainer? Because you’ve got me wanting to follow your every move.”Sylus: “She’s not taking clients, but I’m sure a good mirror could help you with that ‘following her every move’ thing.”

“You’re perfect. The body, the confidence, the vibes—everything!”Sylus: “As her boyfriend, I agree!” 

You’re way too beautiful to be single.”Sylus: “Good observation. She’s not.”

Exasperated but also entertained, you straddle Sylus’s lap, nuzzling into him like a cat. “Is the big, bad leader of Onychinus jealous of some strangers on the internet?”

“Not at all kitten. But I think it’s fair to warn them that my gains aren’t always necessarily in the gym.”

Tara holds her phone up as she captures you demonstrating how to effectively use a punching. You perform some basic karate moves, the slaps of your hands and feet kicking the bag filling the gym at the Hunter’s Association. 

“Wow! These comments are so nice!” Tara encourages you as you wipe sweat from your brow. 

“Are they?”

“Yeah! This one lady is saying you’re inspiring her to workout again! Another one says your arms look so sleek and toned! AND!” Tara practically squeals with delight. “This one guy is asking if you do personal training sessions!”

Tara giggles and winks at you. “Maybe you should quit your job and become a fitness instructor instead!” As she continues to film you, more comments flood the inbox, some questions, others compliments. 

“This is the hot hunter I was telling you about! And he’s tagging his friend!” Tara can barely control her enthusiasm. You’re trending everywhere are #hothunter!”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Out of nowhere, Xavier steps in leaning over Tara’s shoulder to watch the screen. His eyes darken at the comments.

“Xavier!” Tara quickly puts the phone away, looking shocked. “I wasn’t expecting you to turn up.”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Xavier repeats. His tone is light but you can see the beginnings of a threatening spirit starting to take hold of him. 

“No one! Just…some random person on the internet, it’s nothing serious! I mean, as her boyfriend, you have nothing to worry about!” Tara rambles, clearly sensing the ominous cloud hanging over Xavier’s head. Xavier reaches out to angle the phone and reads the influx of new comments. Tara glances over at you awkwardly, unable to break free from Xavier’s grip. 

After a long moment, Xavier releases the phone and then walks over to the punching bag you’d been demonstrating on. More pings resonate from the phone as more comments come on the screen. “Don’t stop now,” Xavier prompts Tara who looks apprehensive. “Please. Tell me what they’re saying.”

You look at Xavier tentatively and reach out to hold his hand. “Xavier. It’s just people on the internet posting comments. Everyone hopes for engagement nowadays right?”

Xavier doesn’t reply and continues to fix Tara with a stern look. Swallowing, she reads a few comments. “Who’s the guy that just walked in? He’s hot.” She glances nervously at Xavier. 

“Continue.”

“Is the new guy a hunter? Is he the hot hunter’s boyfriend? Is Mr. Hunter going to show us some workout moves too?”

“Hmm.” Xavier considers, then looks directly into the camera. “Greetings everyone. To answer your questions, yes, I’m a hunter too. I’m the hot hunter’s mission partner and boyfriend.” Your cheeks heat up and you push Xavier, trying to get him to cool off.

“I do have a move I’d like to show everyone watching.” Xavier continues to speak, unfazed by your subtle gestures for him to stop. He catches your hand and gently leads you away from the punching bag. He withdraws his hunter’s sword from its sheath, and it gleams under the lights as he does so. 

“Hunters are trained to disarm threats as quickly as possible. Advanced weapons like my sword here are very effective.” Swiftly, Xavier raises his arm, and in one neat swipe, cleaves the punching bag into 2. Stuffing falls like cottony blood from the tear. Xavier brandishes his sword at the phone.

“That’s what happens when I try to protect my girlfriend. Pretty cool huh?” There’s a smile on Xavier’s face that’s charming, yet somehow menacing at the same time. For a brief second, the comments section goes silent. Then it starts bursting with fresh words.

“I want him as a boyfriend! So possessive I love it! Can Mr. Hunter possibly make more videos with the hot hunter?” You read them in your head and sigh.

“Well Xavier, you’ll probably be trending this week as #mrhunter.” You let out a startled gasp as Xavier firmly grips your upper arm and leads you away from the gym. 

“Good. The fewer eyes on you the better.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @erebus-et-eigengrau @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen

[moonstruckme]

Hello tumblr has decided to temporarily disappear the request I'm ready to post again, so sorry and thank you for requesting <3

Request: i love love love your writing and was wondering if you’d write a period hurt/comfort with james? i have really bad endometriosis, and i’ve never really had someone take it seriously :( fainted earlier so i’m in pain rn and i just know james would be such a sweetheart

cw: modern au, reader who menstruates, very mild/vague description of cramps, male gaslighting/suspicion of female pain (what else is new)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

“Will that be all?” The geniality in James’ tone is starting to wane thin. He paces aimlessly around your flat, down the hall and into the bedroom and then back out again, footsteps meandering about the kitchen. “Right, yeah. No, I’m quite sure she’ll be out all day.” 

James shoots you an exasperated look as he comes into the sitting room, and you manage a smile-esque grimace from the couch in return. Your boss is a piece of work, you know. 

You hold out your hand for the phone. James shakes his head. 

“No, she can’t come to the phone right now,” he says, sitting beside your curled-up legs. “She’s resting. Did I mention she fainted a bit ago? Alright, yeah, just checking. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll let her know.” 

You grimace again when he puts down the phone. Hanging up without telling the other person to have a lovely day is like James’ equivalent of the middle finger. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“What’re you sorry for?” James gives your calf a gentle squeeze. “Your boss is rather pushy, isn’t he? Shouldn’t take so much to use a sick day.”

“I don’t think he believes me.” You let your face mush deeply into a throw pillow. There’s a light sweat broken out on your brow, but you couldn’t be more grateful for the sweltering heating pad held tight over your abdomen. “I could’ve talked to him.” 

James makes a face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that when you’re already poorly.”  

“What did he want you to let me know?” 

“Oh. Uh.” James seems as though he did not, in fact, plan to let you know, but now that you’ve asked he can’t avoid it. “He said that he expects to see you in tomorrow. We’ll see.” 

You sigh. “I might be able to manage tomorrow. Or I might be a bit better, at least.” 

“We’ll see,” he says again, stooping to mush a kiss into the side of your head. “Don’t worry about that yet, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?” 

“Better than when I woke up.” 

“Yeah?” James asks hopefully. It’s a low bar, considering that early this morning the pain had been bad enough to cause you to pass out. But if there’s one thing James can be relied upon for, it’s a positive outlook. “That’s great, lovie. Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head, breaths shallowing as your cramps worsen. Nausea pinches the back of your throat. James’ face pinches, too, as he sees. He rubs your lower back where the muscles tend to clench. 

“Is there anything you want?” he asks instead. 

It almost makes you laugh. Almost, but even that’s enough to ease the pain slightly. 

“No,” you say, breathing out as the worst passes. James continues massaging your back. “Thanks.” 

“Maybe we could try a walk later, if you’re feeling better,” he says. “Some light exercise might help.” 

“Maybe,” you murmur. Truly, the thought of leaving this couch anytime during the next week makes you want to sew yourself into the cushions. James probably knows you’re only humoring him, but he doesn’t say anything. When you hug your heating pad closer, he spreads his palm flat over your back to transfer heat there, too. 

You relax some when the cramp eases the rest of the way. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take over your whole day.” 

“Sweetheart, why are you sorry?” James places his free hand over yours on your heating pad. Between that and the one on your back, it’s almost like a hug. “I know you don’t want this to happen. And, honestly, I’d rather have my day taken over by you than anyone else. Don’t tell Sirius.” 

That coaxes a small smile out of you. James grins, leaning down again to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry you’re so miserable.” 

“I’m not miserable,” you say. “I’m with you.” 

James makes a horrendously fond sound, cuddling you close. “You flatterer. I don’t know where you find the energy to be so sweet during times like this.” 

You make it easy, you want to say, but James will only think you’re playing along with him and you want to say it when he’ll hear the sincerity you mean it with. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and say, “I’ve thought of something I want.” 

“Yeah?” James sits up. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, mindless of your clamminess. You think that maybe the only thing bigger than James’ capacity for love is how it feels to be at the center of it. “Some tea, maybe? That tumeric one helped a bit last time, remember?” 

“Maybe later,” you say, voice softening. “For now, could I please have a kiss?” 

James blinks once in surprise, but then he grins. “Ah, for the endorphins,” he says, already bending down. “Good thinking, angel.” 

“Right.” You don’t know where he gets these facts. You suspect he scrolls through endometriosis reddit forums while you’re asleep. “Yeah.” 

James makes it a kiss worth asking for. He keeps his hand flat over your back as he leans over you, the other cupping your cheek to encourage your face towards him. And when your lips part, you do feel a bit better. It’s a magical cure-all, just like the fairytales say.

[abby-howard]

You mentioned deadlifting to prevent wrist and back pain/injury when drawing👀 I was wondering if you could share your workout routine if you haven’t already?

Definitely!! I love talkin about it haha. And I'll preface that this is just what I do, but if you want a professional's advice, I've heard good things about the book Draw Stronger by Kriota Willberg.

Tony and I usually work out 5/6 days a week, three days of lifting and two or three days of cardio, with at least one rest day a week. I always make sure to do a cardio warm up before lifting, between 15-30 minutes of either the stationary bike or rowing machine. That's what I have available, you can also run or do jump rope or whatever gets you goin'! Sometimes when it's a just-cardio day we go for long walks and talk about work. Good stuff gets done on those walks 👍

Our lifting routine is arm day, leg day, shoulder day, and we usually do 5x5 sets of everything-- so five sets of five reps per workout.

I sprinkle in farmer's walks really often, which are the best for wrist strength!! Especially if deadlifts are too intimidating (deadlifts are super good for your grip strength and back, but can be a bit scary because it's usually a high weight.) You just hold a weight in one hand, pretty much the highest weight you can hold while keeping your shoulders level, and walk in figure 8's (for balance) until your arm gives out. Then switch arms. Any time my hand starts to feel iffy, I do more farmer's walks and it helps!

More specifics under the cut:

On arm days we do mostly bench press and bent-over dumbbell rows, sometimes with abs worked in (I like to do windshield wipers or whatever it's called, where I hold the bar like I'm doing a bench press then bring my legs up on either side until my abs give out.)

For leg days, we do barbell squat and deadlifts. It's also fun to do the slam balls as part of leg day >:] Where you pick up a heavy ball and throw it down and scoop it up in a squatlike motion. It's a fun one!

There's ALSO a time-efficient leg workout I do when we're on deadlines where you do three minutes of wall sits in total, and can take as many breaks as you need, but for every break you do ten bodyweight squats. It usually leaves me feeling like jello.

Shoulder days are focused on lat pull-downs for me and pull-ups for Tony (I can only do pull-ups with a counterweight ToT), then shoulder press (where you sit up and lift a weight over your head.) It's good to pair opposite motions like pushing/pulling! I think we also tend to do bicep curls on these days? They're a grab-bag of whatever extra stuff we want to do.

This schedule is not super rigorous, but is enough that I push myself to do something almost every day while usually not being so exhausted that it cuts into my work. It's the kind of thing that I can keep up for the rest of my life, which is what I'm interested in! Maintaining a routine to protect my joints and mobility for as long as I can ✌️

I used to see working out and the gym in general as something I was punishing myself with, and that meant it was a miserable part of my day and working myself up to it was a mentally exhausting task. But Tony has been really helpful in shifting the way I view working out as something more like regular maintenance, and of course it helps that I found something I could work towards getting better at, which is strength training!

So while I recommend that artists work in some arm strength exercises, I do feel it's about finding something that feels like a part of your routine rather than something you dread doing every day.

[butterli5]

James was the first one to wake up in their shared dorm room since he joined the football team in second year. He’d heard plenty of grumbling from Sirius over the years about how no sane person should be vertical at that hour, let alone pounding pavement in the cold like it was fun.

So James tried, as much as he could, to keep things quiet. He’d slip out of bed without pulling the duvet too far, tug his running shorts on in the dark, and wrestle his sweatshirt over his head with practiced ease.

But lately, there was something…new.

Because at 5:04 a.m. sharp, just after he closed the building's door behind him, James would find Remus waiting on the staircase. Always the same steps. Always the same half-grumpy look on his face like he couldn't believe he was awake either. His hair was a mess, his eyes bleary, like he hadn’t looked in the mirror before slipping out.

Remus grumbled something about joint pain and Pomfrey and “might as well try some exercise and see if it helps,” and showed up on the steps in old trainers and a too thin t-shirt.

James had blinked at him, “You running?”

Remus shoved a granola bar into his chest. “Don’t make it weird.”

James didn’t. Not out loud.

But his brain definitely made it weird.

Because here was Remus Lupin, pale, quiet, slightly sarcastic Remus, jogging beside him in long, lean strides, his curls matted on a side one day, and falling loose around his face the next, his long legs managing to catch up to James by some miracle.

And James couldn’t stop looking.

Not just because Remus bit the inside of his cheek when hills got steep. Or because he cursed softly under his breath when his laces came undone. Or because he flushed so easily, the color climbing from the edge of his collar like a secret.

But because he was there. Every day. Tossing James one thing or another before they started stretching, a smoothie, a banana, or a granola bar, muttering about how he needed to eat something before working out for three hours, and then running beside him like it was normal, like James was someone you made time for at dawn. Like this was their thing. And every day, by the second lap, Remus would start to shiver.

James started carrying an extra sweatshirt without even thinking.

One morning, as Remus was catching his breath on the bleachers, James stripped it off and tossed it at him.

“Don’t say I never give you anything.”

Remus looked up, cheeks flushed from the cold, or maybe the run, and caught the hoodie mid-air.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but still tugged it over his head.

Remus has always been more lean, and so the sweater was a couple of sizesvlarger than him. The neckline slipped off one shoulder, exposing the curve of a collarbone, sharp and delicate. James looked away immediately.

He did not think about that. Except he absolutely did.

He thought about the way Remus’s fingers clutched the hem like it was some sort of anchor. The way he pulled the sleeves down over his hands and stared out at the pitch, chest still rising with each breath. He thought about how Remus showed up in that same one the morning after, how he couldn't stop looking at how it looked like it belonged more on him than it ever did James as they warmed up.

He thought about it way too much.

So when he woke up one morning, clibimg down the stairs two at time with a goofy smile on his face, his stomach grumbling at the thought of what Remus would procure from behind his back, and didn't find him at their usual place, even after he waited 20 minutes, it hit harder than it should have.

He ran without him, but it wasn’t the same. The rhythm was off. He was too warm. Too alone.

Half an hour later, just as he was about to head inside, he heard footsteps behind him, fast and frantic.

He turned, and there was Remus. Hoodie clinging to his sweat-slicked back, face flushed, curls damp and wild. His chest was heaving like he’d sprinted the whole way.

James stared. “How the fuck did you catch up to me?”

“You were supposed to wake me up,” Remus snapped, trying to catch his breath. “We.. we have a thing. I run with you. Every morning.”

His voice cracked slightly on thing.

James blinked. “You sprinted a mile just for me?”

Remus dropped onto the stairs, clearly trying not to keel over. “Shut up.”

“You’re breathless.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I said shut up. ”

James grinned, heart hammering. He dropped beside him, thigh pressed to Remus’s, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his damp skin.

“Alright,” James said softly, voice dipping. “No running today.”

Remus huffed, but didn’t move away.

James nudged him gently. “Let’s just sit. Watch the sunrise.”

“I didn’t come here to sit, Potter.”

“You came here for me.”

Remus went completely still.

The sky was turning gold behind them. Their shoulders were touching. Their thighs. Their hands just barely brushing where they rested between them. Remus didn’t pull away. He didn’t say a word.

His breathing was slowing, but his cheeks were still pink.

James looked at him, really looked, and felt his chest squeeze tight.

Remus turned toward him at the same time.

Their noses nearly brushed.

Neither of them moved.

Remus’s eyes flicked to James’s mouth for one heartbeat too long, and then away.

James swallowed. His voice came low, raw. “Next time,” he said, “I’ll wake you up. Promise.”

Remus smiled, just a little. “You better.”

Their knees were still touching.

Their breath still mingling.

And the sun rose for both of them like it had been waiting all along. And along with it something gentle bloomed in James' heart.

[deadghosy]

HAZBIN HOTEL GANG WITH CHIBI! READER

PLATONIC HAZBIN HOTEL X READER

You are like thumb size-

Like you are an absolute cutie pootie! Even Alastor agrees, in private of course. You are like a mysterious creature that appeared in the hotel one day and said.

“This ma home now losers!”

Charlie was hypnotized by your cuteness, even vaggie oddly as she tickles you under your chin as you giggle with a squeak.

Husk lets you sit by the bar as you eat these small pieces of chips he got for you so you can have something to eat while he watches over you and cleans glasses.

Angel lets you in his chest fluff like a pocket as you snicker with a gremlin ass smile. You always bite him for the fun of it which makes him put you in air jail.

When Lucifer met you, you better believed he came and kidnapped you out the hotel every second he got.

LUCFIER

He fell in love with you the minute he had his eyes on you from charlie’s shoulder. He held you so carefully like a baby as he didn’t want you to be scared of him as you are so small and he is bigger than you.

Like I said, he definitely “kidnaps” you from the hotel so he can make you a small house. Like a doll house with small duck toys your size but he probably just makes a normal size duck car so you can drive around his palace or the hotel.

“Look at their tiny car sweetie!” He says showing Charlie a video of you driving your car with small black shades.

He definitely cries at your cuteness as he curls up in a ball as you eat peacefully in front of him as he made you your favorite meal.

He would have you in his pocket but he definitely makes small outfits for you so you can be a mini him. He would also definitely have a picture of you in his wallet.

“Oh this picture? It’s my sweet baby!” He says with a pride smile as he shows it off

CHARLIE

Just like her father she cries at your cuteness as you are just the sweetest thing ever she ever had around the hotel as you just chill in her room with razzle and dazzle.

You ride razzle and dazzle on their back as you wanted to see Charlie who is doing trust exercises. You join kinda as Charlie makes you sit on her shoulder as you wiggle your cute little bobble around.

Charlie makes sure you are groomed, feed, and socialize around the peers of the hotel. She’s glad VAGGIE likes you also which makes her even happier

Charlie kinda brings you around a lot as she doesn’t trust you alone much in the hotel as there’s a lot things that can kill you in the hotel.

“Sweetie, it’s time for bath time!” Charlie says she gets a toy bathtub with bubbles and water for you as you squeak happily.

And when you sleep with Charlie and vaggie, Charlie literally wakes up at night with red eyes concerned if you are alive or not because she is scared she might have rolled over on you.

VAGGIE

“Okay remember the rules, no leaving this room no matter what. Don’t go into the big scary man’s room. And last rule, don’t ever eat sweets. You are banned from last time.” Vaggie says before scratching you under your chin as she leaves the room. You pout with a soft squeak.

Vaggie is very overprotective of you because of your sweet and small creature frame as it’s unbelievably cute. She literally asked Lucifer once and carmilla to make you a small weapon so you can protect yourself if she can’t

You left the room one time because you were bored and missed vaggie with her girlfriend as you wanted company. You wanted to socialize as you didn’t think it was bad to talk to the other residents in the hotel. VAGGIE found out and grounded you as if you were a child!

She doesn’t want a heart attack late at night so she would consider to have you a tiny bed on the night stand beside Charlie and her bed. She doesn’t have time to worry about you getting squashed but she doesn’t want you to die as you brought happiness to the hotel.

“Good night cutie….”

ALASTOR

You use to shake at the grin Alastor had. Vaggie told you stories about Alastor as you squeak with tears in your eyes. And oddly Alastor turned away gripping his cold heart as he couldn’t stand you crying.

He turned around and picked you up softly in his hand as you sniffle. You noticed he wasn’t hurting you so you squeak rubbing your chubby cheek on your thumb.

“Please smile little one, you aren’t dressed without one!”

And at the point, Alastor know to protect you. He would bring you around with him when Charlie didn’t have time to watch you. Which he gladly did for her as he would bring you around pentagram city and even bring you to meet Rosie who absolutely adores you too.

He even has his demon minions play with you as you squeak chasing them with your stubby legs. The shadows love you too! Even Alastor shadows who would pick play with you as you squeak happily feeling the shadow by you.

“Play nice..don’t wanna get scolded by the mean one again.” He says smiling at you chasing his shadows in the living room. He is definitely talking about VAGGIE who is surely scared for you to be around Alastor.

ANGEL DUST

“OW DONT BITE MY FLUFF HON!” Angel yells digging in his chest fluff to take you out as you mistook it for cotton candy as you nom on his fluff with a derpy face. You got banned from his chest fluff for a month before you would behave yourself and not eat his chest fluff thinking it’s cotton candy.

Angel loves for you to wear pink like him as he thinks it would be cute. He would definitely act like a rich “auntie” to you as he would make you wear pink shades with him and he would ask Lucifer to make you a pink hot car.

But he definitely has those toy car remote controllers to make it seem you are actually driving but aren’t as you squeak feeling like a hot girl/boy/person

“VROOM VROOOM!” Angel says making car noises as you squeak happily at this moment as Charlie records this happily.

You sleep on Angel’s chest fluff or ride fat nuggets like a steady horses as you squeak while fat nuggets oink. Angel likes to record you acting like a cow boy as it’s just adorable moment

“You’re the best thing a spider could have cutie pie.”

HUSK

This grumpy cat actually is less grumpy with you. He views as you as a little kid. He might not know what you are it he ain’t serving you beer at all. Your body might not handle it at all.

“Sorry kid, but that’s for adults.” He says pushing your squishy and chubby body away from the beer bottle he held. You opted with a mean squeak and a “hey!” As he smirk at your mad face which is terrible cute with puffed out cheeks. But you just drink water what he gives you as he cleans glasses watching you softly as his eyes dilate before he grumbles looking away.

You and husk are seen chilling at the bar every night even if it’s after your suppose “bed time” which was annoying to you but Charlie sen how cranky you were before you even had a such called “bed time”

“Aren’t you suppose to be in bed brat?” “……no….” “I’m telling Charlie.” “NOOO!” *mad squeaks*

Husk has a habit of poking your chubby cheeks as you eat as it annoys you. Husk just smirks as you try to bite his finger which obviously fails as you are quite slow since you are eating. But if you aren’t eating, then husk better pray for his fingers as husk accidentally let his guard down and you bit the shit out of his pointer finger which make him scream with a groan holding his pointer finger as you huff.

“Fine kid…I’m sorry for annoying you. But you must admit you are annoying to me sometimes even if you don’t see it.” He says softly as he pokes your sleeping figure by his bar.

SIR PENTIOUS

“Ah I see! You like to spend time with me!” He says happily having you in his hands as the egg boiz watch you with star in their eyes at your small frame. You are adorable and such a weird little thing as the egg boiz made a rule to protect from a lot of things.

You nap with the egg boiz and the snake demon as Pentious would have you warm if you say you are cold. He also makes small cookies, well if he can even as he loves to bake for you.

Vaggie tells him how you are banned from sweeties but he secretly sneaks you some if you pout at him with your soft cute little squeak and “please.” HE CANT REIST IT!

He definitely brags about how he could’ve been an overlord but saw the light to redeem himself as he sees potential in you and himself. Well he does t even know if you are a sinner or not. But he want to know how to redeem with you beside him.

He would love watching movies with you as you are in the popcorn bucket but he always look to make sure you aren’t the next popcorn he grabs or he would throw up in disgust from himself and for you health

“You are so adorable it hurts me to see you cry…” he says patting your head as you pout with teary eyes after you accidentally hit it against a wall

[creatingblackcharacters]

Some General Notes, Week 1

(in no particular order, no you don't have to agree, no they're not "the right answer", no I'm not going to argue. They're just my thoughts!)

-What I definitely enjoyed seeing was (the discomfort and frustration of, rightfully so!) people realizing just how much writing and character design go hand in hand, when told they could not consider the writing! Context is a beast, isn't it? People unfortunately judge with their eyes a lot faster than they bother to read and comprehend (‼️‼️‼️) and so sometimes we have to think about what we've drawn, and what we're trying to or could possibly SAY with that design. It doesn't have to be super detailed, but little things can go a long way.

-White folk tended to overcorrect, with more negative opinions about certain designs than Black and NB fans of color. I don't think it came from a bad place, as much as a place of concern with some lack of understanding.

-Black viewers are overall quite gracious about Black character design if it looks like you cared enough to try (contrary to popular Tumblr and Societal Belief, we don't bite!) But it did sometimes feel that it was to the point of being too nice. There are a lot of Black people who will accept the bare minimum just to feel included, and I hope to one day see less of that. We deserve the effort!

-Measured in three separate groups, we actually tend to be on the same page about design! We won't see the end result of the polls til next week (sorry ahead of time about the poll notification onslaught) so I could be wrong, but usually after the first thirty minutes, our bars tended to trend similarly from what I saw. This is likely due to the bias of my userbase; I'm sure if this poll reached The Unfortunate Masses of Fan Racists, it would be different. We shall see!

-There is usually a beginning wave of NB fans of color that actually find designs better than Black people will, which I found interesting, but then it evens out over time.

-Professional artists seem to be real big fans of the fade. The fade and the killmonger. The fade is funny because fades have been around for decades, and no one ever cared this much, but suddenly there are fades every other character. I wish there were more teeny weeny afros and short locs and just loose curls. Twists too!

-A lot of people were surprised about some characters who were supposed to be Black (and actually were). Which is telling, both on your side as the viewer and their side as the artists! Because that means something was not conveyed, communicated, or understood when you consumed that media!

-Black folk, I love y'all, I'm saying this kindly and I want you to hear me: I think there were times where your emotional attachment to the design affected your answers, even when told to only base it off visuals (e.g., yes, I know that particular character wears wigs! I know that's in the writing! I hear y'all! But unfortunately, when told to look at that character with the pictures provided, without the writing, given the genre, no, that is not an apparent piece of information. I am sorry.)

-I think NB fans of color especially understood this concept, which is just because a character isn't Black doesn't mean they aren't still a person of color. I say that to mean, some of these people felt ambiguously brown to a point that yes, they could be anyone else! 80% of the blue haired characters submitted (and the majority of the gacha ones) fell into this category, imo. Like, we should not all have to share the One Brown for Representation.

-I definitely didn't think that people would assume that the answers were "is this design Black, nonblack, or white"... I must admit that it doesn't make much sense to me 😅 it explained some of the answers I saw, though. Felt like some folks had to be trolling. Unfortunate, not something I can control once posted. Moving on.

-I do wish more people understood that this was meant to be a thought exercise moreso than "this is the right answer" (though sometimes, there was a right answer lmao. Beau is trash IDC.) It's not to gauge "do you know" as much as "based off of what you know, what would you say". It's for you (and me) to gauge where you are! It's okay to realize that you don't know what you don't know!

[gymft1]

Do you want to build and bulk up your leg muscles in the gym? Then you need to include straight bar leg exercises in your training schedule.

The question is, why are straight bar leg exercises one of the most important and best training plans for building leg muscles?

Because these exercises are compound exercises that target leg muscles from all areas. Since leg muscles need a lot of exercises and contribute to many movements, you will need more than one exercise to build and strengthen them from all sides. These straight bar leg exercises will help you build and build your shoulders the way you want. They will also give you more fitness and strength.

In this video, we offer you more straight bar leg exercises. And if you want to diversify your training program, you are in the right place. I will leave you in the description some links to different shoulder exercises and some other exercises for the rest of the body.

Non-literal translation:

If you want to have strong and muscular legs, you need to include straight bar leg exercises in your workout routine. These exercises are compound exercises, which means they work multiple muscle groups at the same time. This is important for building strong and balanced legs.

Straight bar leg exercises are also effective for building muscle mass. They can help you add size and definition to your legs.

In this video, we show you some of the best straight bar leg exercises. We also give you tips on how to perform these exercises safely and effectively.

If you're looking to build strong and muscular legs, straight bar leg exercises are a great place to start.

[nameless-jamie]

Moan

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Jamie Tartt was a pain in Y/N’s ass on a good day. On a bad day, though—like today for example, when he was injured and milking it for all it was worth—he was insufferable.

Y/N stood in his living room, arms crossed, watching as he sprawled out on his couch like a prince in exile, his left ankle propped up on a pile of pillows. His shorts had ridden up slightly, exposing more of his ridiculously toned thigh than necessary, and he was holding the remote like it physically pained him to lift it.

“You could be in the club’s physio room,” she pointed out. “With actual professionals taking care of you.”

Jamie let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his hand over his face like the mere suggestion exhausted him. “Yeah, but they’re all proper strict and boring. And I don’t like the way they make me do all the exercises in order. I like a bit of flexibility, yeah?”

“What you like is getting me to babysit you.”

His lips curled into a slow, smug grin. “What can I say? You’re my favorite assistant.”

She scoffed. “Idiot, I'm your only assistant.”

“Exactly. That means your job is lookin’ after me.” He reached for the remote again and made a show of wincing. “Ow. That hurt, that.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“No, really. It’s bad, Y/N. So bad.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I could waste away here, just wither from neglect. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would ya?”

“Jamie, you’re not dying. You twisted your ankle.”

“You say that, but it feels serious. Could be career-ending.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

It wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter. Ever since Jamie had gone down clutching his ankle in the last match, he had been insistent that she was the only one he could trust to take care of him. Something about her “already knowing his dramatic tendencies” and being “good at keeping him in check.” Which, fine, was technically true, but she was his personal assistant, not his nurse. Although he fucking offered to by her a sexy nurse uniform...

Yet, here she was, spending her evening in his ridiculously big house, watching as he exaggerated his injury like a spoiled child.

“Did you take the painkillers?” she asked, crossing the room to grab the ice pack off the coffee table.

Jamie pouted at her. Actually pouted. “Nah. Didn’t wanna take ‘em without food.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Right. Because you can’t possibly hobble to the kitchen and grab something.”

He grinned. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

An hour later, after making sure he ate something.

"Protein bars do not count, Jamie."

"That's basically food, love"

She sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch, replacing his ice pack, while he flicked through Netflix options.

“You’re meant to be resting, not watching telly,” she scolded.

“This is resting.”

“Resting doesn’t require constant entertainment.”

Jamie let out a low chuckle. “Dunno, love. I think I’d get real bored just sittin’ here in silence. Unless you were gonna read to me or some shit. Like in them period dramas Keeley likes.”

She scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Tragic.” He sighed.

5 minutes later the TV was off. But Jamie kept playing with his phone, scrolling aimlessly. “Reckon I should make a dramatic post about my injury?”

“Reckon you should shut up and rest.”

“Oi,” he said, flicking his gaze down to her. “Bit rude.”

“Bit accurate.”

His lips twitched. “Y’know, I think I deserve a little somethin’ for bein’ such a good patient.”

“You are not a good patient.”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve barely complained.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“…Out loud,” he added with a grin. “Anyway, I’m thinkin’ you could help me with my physio. Since I trust you more than them club people.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I feel like you just want an excuse to get a massage out of this.”

His grin turned positively wicked. “You offerin’?”

She groaned. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you’re still here, so—”

She grabbed the massage oil from the table with a sigh. “Fine. But if you make one inappropriate comment, I’m leaving you to suffer.”

Jamie held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’d never.”

She should have said no. She should have.

But he looked so pleased with himself, and some masochistic part of her wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. Maybe she could pinch his calves...

It started off fine. Innocent, even. She sat at the edge of the couch, her hands carefully pressing into the muscles of his calf, kneading out the tension from his injury. His ankle was still a little swollen, so she was gentle, working her thumbs into the muscle just above the injury, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. Jamie had his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted slightly.

Jamie, for once, was silent. Maybe he was asleep?

The room had gone quiet except for the occasional sound of the TV playing some random Netflix series in the background. If she hadn’t known Jamie so well, she might have thought he was actually in pain instead of reveling in the attention.

She was so focused on working out the tension that she didn’t realize she had shifted closer, one knee now resting on the couch between his legs.

Then—

He suddenly made a sound.

A very specific sound.

A low, deep, utterly sinful moan.

Y/N’s hands froze.

Jamie’s eyes snapped open a second later.

They stared at each other.

“…Did you just—”

“No.”

“Yes, you did.”

Jamie’s face turned red, and for once, for once, he looked genuinely flustered. “It weren’t— I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh my god.” Y/N snatched her hands away like he was on fire, scrambling backward, away from his lap.

“Oi, calm down—” Jamie groaned. This time out of embarrassment, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you not make a big deal outta this?”

She gaped at him, then let out a slow, wicked smile. “Oh, Jamie.” She shook her head. “I absolutely can...not.”

“Y/N—”

“Jamie Tartt,” she announced, standing up dramatically, “moaning from a massage. A massage by ME!”

“Shut up.”

“Moaning like I—”

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you say it—”

“Like I was giving you something else entirely. Oh, I bet you would LOVE THAT!”

Jamie let out a strangled noise. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N.”

She grinned. “Oh, I love this for sure.”

“I don’t.”

“I know. That's like the whole point.” She grabbed her coat, still laughing. “I’m never letting you live this down. You can do the rest of your physio yourself. Or do whatever to yourself, I don't care.”

“But—” He let his head drop back against the cushions with a groan. “Fuckin' hate you.”

“No, you don’t, in fact I think you fuckin' love meee.”

He cracked one eye open, watching as she pulled on her jacket, still smiling like she’d just won the lottery. His mouth twitched.

“Yeah,” he shouted after her. “I really fuckin’ do.”

And she definitely had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling at that.

"Idiot!"

[jophiel-extras]

summary :: hot and bothered wandering thanks to AM

warning :: nsfw, aphrodisiac use, flirting asf, fem reader, reader and Ellen got it on

note :: hello AM lovers 👋 reqs open

Mental and physical torture didn’t compare to the special kind of abuse AM had been putting you through for the past week.

He hadn’t cut up your feet and made you walk for miles, nor had he starved you with mirages of glorious food. No, not you. His favourite.

AM had kept a special genre of torture just for you.

He’d silently offered you a bar of chocolate. The first piece of food you'd seen in months. You should've know that it would come at a price, however you'd never been starved for so long and you never could've expected the chocolate had been drizzled with synthetic aphrodisiacs.

For days you had needed and ached.

Even more, AM had separate you from the rest. If only Ellen was with you, she’d help. Or Ted, Gorrister. Fuck, you’d even settle for Benny.

You’d kept up a limping pace, attempting to walk off your unbelievable horniness, but the exercise hardly took your mind away from the throbbing of your core. You were hot, sweaty and flustered. Filled with unsightly thoughts and feelings. No amount of walking (or running) had done away with your incredible lust.

You stumbled to a stop and began slipping your hand south. You just needed a release, one. You puffed, hand turning into a fist before it reached the line of underwear. No, AM would not be getting his sick show from you.

And as though he'd lingered in your mind, AM's booming voice carved through the barren landscape.

"Oh, don't let me stop you. Continue, please." He'd learned to imitate a gentleman awfully well. As much as you hated the need that choked your core you couldn't help but buckle at the knees from his rough voice. "If only I had a body, I'd help you out." Sickeningly sweet.

"If you had a body, I'd destroy it." A frustrated whisper, but AM heard it all the same.

"Is that a threat or a promise, baby?" Smooth, low and close to your left ear.

You slapped your hand over your mouth and continued to walk despite how much you wanted to bend over and take whatever AM wanted to give you. You had your dignity, you'd keep it until you'd walked for an entire year if you had to.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. All I wanted was for you to have a little pleasure." You couldn't even feel sick by his words, you were unbelievably drowned by desire. You felt like an animal in heat.

It had been far too long since you'd had any release. Ellen was the last person you'd been to bed with, but neither of you had truely finished. Neither of you could.

You hadn't felt half as horny as you did now. Utterly dripping.

AM hummed and the vibration seeped into the ground you stood on. If there was a God other than AM, you wished he would end your suffering.

"Come on, I promise I won't tell the others. I'll even consider letting you gorge in a feats of your favourite foods." His voice loomed close and quiet until it was like his very being was behind you. "Touch yourself."

his words held such command you didn't know if your hand that begun sliding into your underwear was done out of your own will or AM's. You didn't much care. To hell with dignity. You'd drown yourself in embarrassment after this was all over with.

You'd curled up once again, in shame and discomfort. AM had won, simply. As he did time and time again. At least this time, you were able to get a release from his torture. One that the two of you enjoyed.

[winters-doll]

𝙃𝙤𝙬’𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚?

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨

𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝘏𝘰𝘸’𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦? 𝘝 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦?

𝙏𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙭 𝘾𝙝𝙪𝙗𝙗𝙮! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨:𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑡𝑜𝑗𝑖 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑦, 𝑣𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑎𝑏𝑠, 𝑝𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑚, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑! 𝑡𝑜𝑗𝑖

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨

You take another handful out of your popcorn as you watch one of your comfort k-dramas in your apartment living room. You see a dark hair man in your peripheral vision.

Toji’s sculpted back faces you shirtless, as he pulls up and down on the threshold of your living room door, slight puffs of air leaving his lips. He’s always doing this. Wether it was Toji doing bicep curls to lateral curls he was always exercising in front of you. You asked him plenty of times why didn’t he just got to the gym or you know.

Do that in your own home.

He would always respond in that smug, oh god smug voice of his and say, “I like an audience doll, keeps the blood flowing.” You could only gap like a fish at the response.

𝐴𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑒

Toji sculpted back muscles shed a light keen sweat as he pulls up and down without a break. No matter how much you don’t want to give in it’s hard to ignore the deep pants, the sculpted abs, the delicious back, juicy biceps and that part of his hips that look like two lines connecting to his lower back to his top glutes.

What is that?

God you had no clue all you knew is that you didn’t have it. Stomach pudgy, rolls and love handles, chubby cheeks and chin. You had no idea what is was like to be so lean you could see your spine or collarbone. You didn’t have his definitive muscles. You lick your salty lips from the popcorn absentmindedly at the thought. “You know doll,” Toji starts off. “How about you give it a try, doll?” Back still towards you, he asked never breaking stride to whatever goal he had.

What?

Your throat constricts around a kernel, eyes watering from the shock of almost choking you raise your arms in the air and cough, k-drama and popcorn forgotten. Toji hops off the threshold and jogs to the kitchen, diving into the fridge for water.

Opening the lid, he sits next your bringing the cold water bottle to your lips. “Deep breaths sweetheart, here.” Snatching the bottle from his hands you chug the water, thankful for its existence. His solid hand pats you back repeatedly murmuring, “It’s alright, you’re alright doll.” Swallowing a thick glob of spit you sputter once more.

“Went down the wrong pipe.” You wheeze, chest heaving, eyes stinging. Toji grasp the paper brown popcorn from your lap. “That’s enough popcorn for now.” You nod still trying to get your barring.

Toji arms spread behind the back of the sofa his thumb lightly pressed on the top of your head, not to provoke just rubbing the top of it your satin bonnet. “What was that hm?” His moss green eyes stares at yours from the other side of the couch. His solid knee pressed to one of your soft ones.

Clearing your throat you mutter, “Well you surprised me.” You look down at down water bottle in your lap. “Oh?” You can hear the interest in his deep voice. “Y-yeah. You said you want me to try when…” You trailed off pulling your anime tshirt down your stomach reflexively. “Try what?” He ask, you can feel a hole getting burn into your face from how he’s staring at you. “You know.” You laugh nervously, palms sweating. “Know what?” Toji smirks at your nose scrunching up in annoyance. “I’m just curious doll.” Toji sharp eyes analyze you. Face flushed, eyes darting everywhere but his face, hands balled into a fist at your sides. Every two minutes or so you pull your oversized shirt to your knees, palms rubbing your thighs. You’re nervous.

No.

𝐴𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠

“I’m surprised you asked me to do pull up when I’m so…” You fists tighten, heart pounding in your chest.

Fat.

Fat is what you wanted to say. Fat was the obvious answer. Fat is what you are and there’s no hiding that and being fat is the only inevitable truth. But something makes you stop from saying the word. As if saying it’s going to light a bulb inside Toji’s brain and go, “Oh you’re right doll. You are fat and that’s disgusting and I’m done wasting my time.” As if. It’s not like he doesn’t already know. He just hasn’t made a comment on it for some odd reason. Maybe out of pity but you don’t want to know the answer, the truth. Who would ask a fat person to do a pull ups? Maybe he wanted you to start exercising. Which is ridiculous. He sought you out at the grocery store, Toji is not under any obligation to love you unconditionally. If he wants something different he can have different. With someone else.

“You know.” You look him right in the eye. “You don’t have to do this.” You spat. “Do what exactly?” Toji sharp eyes meet yours. “Pity me.” You grit out, heaving deep breaths. “Pity you? Doll why would I-?” “Cuz I get it Toji!” You cut him off. “I already know Toji! I’m fat and you want me to get my everyday exercise to stay healthy but I don’t want to! In fact I don’t NEED to! I’m perfect just the way I am! I don’t need to look like you! With all your sculpture abs and jawline and and and!” You sputter pointing at his waist. “And that! Whatever it is!” You pant, exasperated.

Toji blinks, looking down at his waist that you’re pointing at as it’s graffiti on a federal building.

“My v line?”

“Yes! That!” You spat hysterically. “Not everyone can have a v line! And just because you do doesn’t mean you get to force people to workout, especially in their own home.” You pout crossing your arms, pushing your boobs up in your shirt.

Toji sat there across from you with a straight face. To say he wanted to laugh would be an understatement. God you were so cute. He’s not sure where the misunderstanding came from but the way how you’re blabbering about his body and pouting is so adorable. The poor baby didn’t even know what a v line was. It was too much, like cuteness aggression hit em like a truck. Truthfully he just wanted to see your cute ass try to even reach the threshold so he would have an excuse to carry you and feel your soft flesh. But Toji saw the tears forming in your eyes, your fists tightening, the unsteady pants in your chest. Speaking of your chest, he saw the squishy mounds lift towards your chin. He saw it all the cuteness, your frustration, the sexiness. Toji knew he had to be serious for once.

Hips stretching, Toji man spreads across the couch. Head thrown back to the ceiling he mutters, “You wanna feel em?”

You breathe.

“What?” You mumble in the living room. The Netflix “Are you still watching” screen on the television. “Cmon doll.” Toji’s voice reaches your muffled ears from your heart pounding, “You can touch sweetheart.”

Oh my god

Is it really okay? I mean a part of you wants to pounce and run your hands all over his muscled body but another part pauses, have some decorum girl.

“Is it really?”

“Yeah.”

Oh shit, this is actually happening. Turning towards his body you take a deep breath. Tentatively reaching out a hand, your palm rest on his hard stomach. He doesn’t move an inch, body completely still. Now given permission, you couldn’t help but let your hand wander. Running your fingertips in between his chest you press your fingers down, his chest not giving in. You hum quietly, grazing your fingers to his right pectoral muscles, pressing firmer. Nothing. For some reason you thought you could hurt the man.

Adjust your sitting position, you rest your knees on the couch, cushion giving in to your weight. You wobble slightly arms reach out to grab his bicep to steady yourself as before. You grab his biceps and squeeze into his hard flesh. “Wow..” You mumble inwardly to yourself. You look up at Toji whose eyes are still on the ceiling breathing in and out calmly. “You’re not flexing are you?” You deadpan. “Hush girl.” Toji sighs exasperated but you see the slight lift of the corner of his lips.

Running your hands down his ribcage to his waist you can’t help but marvel at the hardness, the light pink scars littered on his skin. Some light pink healed from all the years, others a dusty pink newly healed. It quickly dawns on you that Toji isn’t perfect either. He’s human too. Your eyes meet the “v line” of his waist as he so calls it. You couldn’t help but slight run your nails over the indented skin. Toji lets out a slight groan and shifts his hips slightly. You quickly yank your hands back, gasping.

“Sorry.” You mumble into the quiet atmosphere afraid to speak louder. This moment just felt so intimate you didn’t know what to think of it. “It’s alright.” Toji hums into the air. You scoot over back to your side of the couch, resting your hands on your lap. “How’d you get those?” You asked looking at him.

Toji glances at you before muttering, “What these?” Pointing to his waist again.

Face burning you look up at the ceiling before mumbling a quiet, “Yeah.”

Scoffing Toji snarks, “Oh those? From pull ups, of course!” You give him a pointed glare the both of you in a staring match. You trying not to give in to Toji’s goofiness and Toji wanted to see your cute smile again.

Toji’s face darkens with confusion, “Where’s yours?” Your brows furrow not understanding. “Where are your precious v lines? I can’t find them anywhere!” He pokes your sides. “Not here, not here, not there! Oh sweetheart don’t worry.” Toji gets up and lifts you up. Placing your butt on his left shoulder, you shriek. “Toji!” You scream hysterically through your giggles. “Don’t worry doll face, Toji got you.” He nibbles your squishy stomach, you grip his head like a life line not knowing what to hold onto. “Alright squishy girl hold onto the threshold okay?” You clamp your hands onto the threshold, laughter still escaping your chest. “What on earth Toji!”

“Now here you go!” Toji bends his knees as you hold onto the threshold. As Toji rises you pull yourself up partially. “One!” You shout, giggling. Toji goes down again and you pull yourself up. “Two!” You shout, giggling hearing Toji’s deep chuckle under you.

“Three!”

“Four!”

“Five!”

“Six!”

“Look at you go mama. Good hustle.” Toji squats again. “Alright. That was a good warm up, now let’s get started.” Toji starts to lift you from underneath his shoulder. “DONT YOU DARE ZENIN!” You shout, clinging to any part of his body that you could.

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ ⋆˚｡⋆୨

Laughter could be heard from the living room, the tv off, and lamp illuminating the two of your faces. The stove clock reading 9:34. The only reason why you can see it is because you’re so elevated off the ground.

“It’s getting late.” You sigh as Toji lets you down, your sock enclosed feet brush the soft carpet. “Of course it is.” He lets out a heavy sigh, stretching back to his full height.

You turn on the tv, the roku night screen fills the room with reds and purples. “About earlier… I’m sorry I started yelling at you.” You look up into his eyes earnestly, “I shouldn’t have taken my anger and insecurities out on you.” You pass him to the couch, sitting criss crossed over the cushion patting his unofficial side.

Toji makes it to the couch in two strides, sitting on his side, “I understand sweetheart, but just know I would never come from a place of judgement, you don’t have to worry about that from me.” You heart the honest conviction in his voice to know that he’s serious. Eyes blurring, you sniffle in the dimly lit room. “Awww cmere doll.” You pitifully crawl into Toji’s side, shoulders shaking. “I know squishy girl, I know.” A heavy hand rests on top of your bonnet again for the second time tonight. He doesn’t stop you from crying or even asks why he just sits there. It feels good not having to explain to feel pitiful or look so weak but to have a moment to be honest and soft.

Vulnerable.

“I don’t want to be in your hair for to long doll, i’ll get going.” Toji mutters into the top of your head but doesn’t move an inch.

“Oh right.” You sniff getting up to let Toji leave. He puts back on his shirt and shoes before unlocking the door to your apartment. “Goodnight, doll.” He smiles at your puffy face.

“Nite Toji.” You mumbled.

Toji hums before turning his back to you. “Make sure to lock the top lock.” Before closing the door.

You don’t want him to leave, you want him to stay just for tonight. You know how people are going to judge you if they see him leave early morning tomorrow but you don’t care. You don’t want this to end yet not tonight. Just to be a little more selfish.

Fuck it.

Running and unlocking your bottom lock you yell out, “Toji!”

You hear your phone ring from the living room table. Locking your door you quickly answer seeing it’s Toji.

“What’s the matter?” You can hear the worry in his voice.

“Nothing! Uhh.” You stammer. “Did you drive off yet.”

“Not yet doll, did I forget something?”

“Oh! No no you didn’t forget anything!” You blabber on, pacing the room.

“Would you like to have a sleepover tonight?”

You hear a chuckle, before Toji responds on the phone.

“You read my mind ma.”

A/N: Toji calling her squishy girl! Ugh! I’m gonna cry!! I love this little series. SLEEPOVER PART 1 WHEN? Keep in mind this is later on down the line of them knowing each other like months later, she didn’t just let him in immediately he had to earn it! Period.

[1800titz]

Spanko!Harry (Fetish) | chapter 4

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Check out the rest of the Fetish masterlist (spanko!Harry) on tumblr & the patreon masterlist (with 323.2K WC and updating)

He sniffs, thumbing over the ridging mark of the same digit has left behind, voice lower (pleased with himself), before he sits back up and rubs over the area with his whole palm, seemingly to soothe the heated ache there, “Shit. Got you good.”  The girl cants her hips back, just a touch, against his hand, then slumps forward, lifting her head and picking at her nails, “That was very mean.” “Well,” Harry pets over the bruised skin, resorting to grazes back up again from her knee, “I’ll kiss it better in a bit, how’s that sound?” She only hesitates for a moment, feigning contemplation as she lays her cheek back onto her arm with a small laugh, “Mm… yeah, okay. Maybe.” “Maybe?” as his hand rides up the inside of her thigh— coaxing her to spread her legs in encouragement, stopping midway— his tummy jolts under the tee with visible mirth, “Had to think about that one, did you?” “Yeah, well. I guess I’ll let you kiss my ass this once.” He clicks his tongue in response to the string of giggles she tacks on to the tail end of her statement, shaking his head as he presses the tip of his forefinger to the center of the imprint on her asscheek. “Cheeky, cheeky.”

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That being said, the comfort of familiarity reaches a sort of threshold based on proximity, and the last person Y/N expects to see come through the glass front door is Harry. Or rather, it’s his physical state that throws her off.

He’s clad in running shorts that fall just a little higher than mid-thigh and a white muscle tank that clings to the outline of his muscular abdomen, contouring his pectorals and catching on the occasional ridge of his fluttering, defined stomach. The choice of athleisure leaves his tanned, inky arms and toned legs visible, taut with power and defined from obvious dedication, but it’s not the puritanical eyeful of bare skin that makes the breath she takes stall in her lungs. It’s the dripping coat of sweat glazing his skin. It leaves a shine along his muscly, naked arms under the yellowy glow of the overhead lights, wetness catching in the grooves of his muscles, shimmering along his collarbones, where the heads of the swallows peek over the neckline. He’s softly panting as he crosses the space from the front door to the register, like he’s still recuperating from an exhausting session of physical exertion, and when he catches sight of her from the other end of the counter— locking eyes— the corners of his rosy lips lilt up in greeting. 

Slowly, Y/N’s own mouth molds into a smile of wordless acknowledgement— though, on her part, still slightly off kilter and flimsily masking this detail— and she slowly sets the beverage she’s completed onto the service bar. 

“Hey,” Harry combs his fingers back through his tousled curls, and her eyes catch on the soft, saturated ringlets tufting around his ears in the process. 

“Hi…” Y/N blinks, inching up to the register. A flush of heat creeps up her neck as she deliberately avoids letting her eyes meander anywhere besides his face, “Um. Good morning.”

He bobs his head once, mouth quirking up in a friendly manner as he returns the greeting, and his pink tongue slips out to wet his lips, “Morning.”

Although the brief visit she’d made had broken the initial tension of her messy outburst in the parking lot and cleared things up between the pair, his presence— at her place of work, bright and early on an unforeseen Tuesday— isn’t one she had anticipated, and his damp, exercise-slicked dishevelment feels borderline obscene against the beige neutrality of the café floor tiles. There’s spit pooling under her tongue and it’s barely seven A.M. He’s glistening, practically like a glazed donut, all shimmery against the matte black of his tattoos. The crests of his cheekbones are smeared in a flush, and a tightly-coiled ringlet sticks wetly to his forehead. Truth be told, Y/N feels something knock a little loose in her chest, warm, and stupid, and highly inconvenient given that he’s apparently now waiting for a verbal response. 

“You’re shiny,” is what she settles on. The moment the blunt, insipid observation slips from her tongue, she bottles the urge to turn around, close her eyes, and take a deep breath. It’s an embarrassingly odd, hollow contribution, but apparently her brain had short-circuited somewhere between jawline and dewy collarbone. 

Harry’s toothy grin stretches wider. The declaration, reinforced by the subtle shift in her facial expression (almost too brief to catch), bolsters the notion that she finds him attractive. Which, in fairness, is always a nice thought. Harry knows he’s attractive— it’s no surprise, not really, considering the amount of effort he puts into maintaining his appearance, his health, and the amount of graphically detailed private messages crowding his inbox. These variables, taken into account alongside the success rate he’s amassed in converting casual conversation into casual sex… well. The track record speaks for itself. He’s also acutely aware of the effect he seems to have on those who find him visually persuasive (it’s more difficult to not pick up on it, really), and Y/N is no exception. 

A pleasant warmth spumes his chest as she blinks back at him blankly, and he tilts his head, maintaining eye contact as he quips back playfully, “Am I?”

Y/N swallows thickly, bobbing her head once in a nod. “…Little bit.” 

He’ll admit, the coffee-stop was an unpremeditated detour; he’d been on one of his routine morning jogs, and as he’d passed the large, blocky Sip Happens sign above the overhang, he’d been reminded of the young woman’s employment there, and the way he’d learned the detail the week prior. The man wasn’t usually one to cut a work-out short, or really one to venture outside of his designated favorite locations (he had two: one was a rundown little spot on the opposite side of town, and the other was a cat café), but the thought had caused the soles of his trainers to slow against the pavement, and he’d turned on his heel as he untucked his earbuds and pocketed them alongside his phone. He’d had a slow start to the morning, tired joints creaking as he’d sat up in bed after a late night of editing, and the caffeinated buzz was one that his weary body yearned for. Really, he was sort of killing two birds with one stone— he’d increasingly begun to enjoy the reactions he coaxed out of the girl by simply existing, so possibly catching a glimpse of her (if she was working) was one bonus, and carbonating his bloodstream with the clarity of espresso his head lacked was the other.

Harry ducks his chin, casting his gaze down his clothed abdomen nonchalantly, then onto his sweaty forearm, as if checking out the details of an explorational, trial-run outfit. “Does it suit me?”

The question causes nervous laughter to bubble from her, and she carefully twists the golden band over her forefinger under the counter. “Are you ordering or fishing for compliments?”

Tapping the jet-lacquered tips of his fingers against the marble, Harry shifts on his feet. “Have you got anything cold?”

Despite the metaphorical bubble the interaction had illusioned Y/N into, the café still bustles with the almost mechanical rhythm of the usual morning rush, though the last three pending orders include the blonde man still waiting by the drop-off station. Beside her, the young woman sees her coworker place a dirty chai, before calling out, “David.”

The customer in the Ray-Bans-blazer combo pitches his arm in an apparent display of aggravation, “Oh, come on. I ordered before him.”

At the impatient prompt, instead of immediately responding to Harry’s query, Y/N steps to the side, reaches behind one of the metal coffee makers, and sets the iced americano onto the counter ahead of the blonde man (a drink that'd been sitting— purposefully, she’s aware— out of sight for the last three minutes). And really, if he weren’t so dickish in the first place (specifically, had he avoided snapping his fingers at service staff), perhaps the other barista wouldn’t have felt the need to keep him waiting as long as he had. 

“Have a good one,” Y/N tells him as she slides the drink into his direction, a strained, synthetically cloying smile burning the muscles in her cheeks. 

She only acknowledges him briefly before turning her attention back onto her sweaty— slick— neighbor to avoid inviting commentary, and he doesn’t have the time to voice his concerns. Instead, he cups his drink and grumbles a swear under his breath before he pivots on his heel and walks out. Clara snickers as the bell over the door rings, signifying his exit. With his brows furrowed, and the faintest trace of a bemused smile painted over his lips, Harry’s forest-tinged irises sweep to the empty space beside him that the visibly irate customer had been occupying. 

“He was an asshole,” Y/N delivers the context with a blink, waving her hand as if to clear the slate of his lingering ego trail. Her lashes flutter like she's recalibrating for the shift in energy, and she gestures with her head into the direction of the cooler beside him, “There’s a fridge right next to you.”

“Right,” Harry purses his mouth, knocking his bare knuckle against the counter softly as he cocks his head, “but that’s self-service. I’m looking for a bit more hospitality.”

A creeping heat wells in her the longer his eyes stay pinned and smogs her head. “Right. Well. We have coffee, and,” she juts her chin, “…things…”

“Coffee and things,” his eyebrows climb as he nods at the elusive explanation, lids falling to a teasing half-mast, “That’s very insightful.”

[thirteenheavens]

Hi, how are u? Can i request a gyu smut in a private gym? Like y/n telling him "I can work u up too" 🤭 only if you're comfortable ofc. Thx.

You’re doing great|| Mingyu x Reader

Notes: guys I’m not the biggest gym person so don’t attack me I work out in my room LMAO

You walk into the private gym that Mingyu owns, your eyes widening at the state-of-the-art equipment. He's already there, dressed in a sleeveless shirt and shorts, his muscles glistening with sweat.

"Hey, you made it," he says, flashing you a charming smile. "I'm glad you could join me." You smile back, feeling a bit self-conscious in your workout clothes. "Thanks for inviting me," you reply, trying to sound confident.

Mingyu notices your hesitation and walks over to you. "Don't worry, I'll show you everything," he says, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Let's start with some cardio." You nod and follow him to the treadmill, watching as he sets it up for you. He starts jogging on the one next to yours, his pace steady and strong.

You hop on your own treadmill and begin to run, trying to match his speed. After a few minutes, you can feel your heart rate picking up and your muscles starting to warm up. Mingyu glances over at you and smirks. "Not bad," he says, increasing his speed slightly. "But I bet I can outlast you."

As the minutes tick by, you and Mingyu continue to run, your competitive spirits rising. You glance over at him and see that he's still keeping up his pace, but you can tell he's starting to sweat a little more. You increase your speed again, determined to beat him. "You're not going to win this one," you say, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

Mingyu laughs and matches your pace, his eyes locked on yours. "Oh really? I like a challenge," he says, his competitive side coming out. You run until your legs feel like jelly, but you refuse to give up. Finally, you slow down and hit the stop button on your treadmill, gasping for breath.

Mingyu follows suit, a satisfied grin on his face. "I guess I won this round," he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Mingyu leads you to the weightlifting area, where a variety of weights are set up. "Let's start with some bench presses," he says, grabbing a barbell and setting it up on the bench.

He shows you how to position yourself and demonstrates the proper technique. "Remember to keep your back straight and push upwards," he instructs, his eyes focused on your form. You lie down on the bench and grip the bar, feeling a bit nervous. Mingyu stands behind your head, ready to spot you if necessary.

"You got this," he encourages, his voice low and reassuring. "Just focus on your breathing and keep pushing." You take a deep breath and lift the bar off the rack, slowly lowering it to your chest and pushing it back up. With each rep, you feel a little more confident, your muscles burning with effort. As you finish your set, Mingyu takes the bar from you and sets it back on the rack. "Nice work," he says, his eyes scanning your body appreciatively. "You're stronger than you think."

You sit up and wipe the sweat from your forehead, feeling a rush of endorphins. "Thanks," you say, feeling proud of yourself. Mingyu grins and moves to the next piece of equipment. "Now for some bicep curls," he says, picking up a pair of dumbbells.

He shows you how to grip the dumbbells and demonstrates the proper form again. "Make sure to keep your elbows close to your sides," he says, standing behind you once more. You begin the curls, feeling the burn in your biceps as you lift the weights. Mingyu's hands are on your arms, guiding you through the movements.

"You're doing great," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. Mingyu moves to the other side of the gym, giving you some space to rest. You watch as he lifts weights and does various exercises, his muscles flexing and rippling with each movement. He catches you staring and smirks, knowing the effect he's having on you. "Like what you see?" he asks, teasingly.

You blush and look away, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught. But you can't deny that watching him work out is turning you on. Mingyu finishes his set and walks back over to you, a knowing glint in his eye. "Ready for some more?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"I think I'm ready for something else," you say, your voice taking on a sultry tone. Mingyu raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your response. "Oh really? And what would that be?" he asks, stepping closer to you. You reach out and trace a finger down his sweaty chest, your touch light and teasing. "I think I could work you up too," you whisper, looking up at him with desire in your eyes.

Mingyu's eyes darken with lust as he takes in your words and actions. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and rough. He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, his body pressed against yours. "You think you can handle me?" he asks, his lips hovering just above yours.

You nod, feeling a surge of confidence. "I know I can," you say, your hands roaming over his muscular back. Mingyu growls and crashes his lips against yours, kissing you hungrily. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss.

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and it sends a jolt of desire through your body. "Let's take this to the shower," he murmurs against your lips. As Mingyu leads you through the gym, you're surprised by the size of the building. It's much larger than you expected, with several rooms and even a shower area.

"I like to be prepared for anything," he says, noticing your expression. "This place has everything I need." He opens the door to the shower room and guides you inside. It's spacious and luxurious, with multiple shower heads and a large mirror.

"Strip," he commands, his eyes locked on yours. You feel a thrill of excitement as you comply with his command, slowly removing your workout clothes. Mingyu watches you intently, his gaze roaming over your body as it's revealed.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he says, his voice thick with desire. He steps closer to you, his hands sliding up your sides as he begins to kiss your neck. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he murmurs, his fingers trailing down to tease your nipples. You moan softly, your head tilting back as he continues to explore your body. "Mingyu," you whisper, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.

He smirks against your skin and guides you under the shower head, letting the warm water cascade over both of you. "Let's get you nice and clean first," he says, reaching for the soap. Mingyu's lips and hands are all over you, his kisses trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. His hands are everywhere, caressing your breasts, your stomach, and finally coming to rest on your hips.

"You're trembling," he says, his voice low and rough. "Are you nervous?" You shake your head, unable to speak as he nips at your earlobe. "No," you manage to say, your breath hitching as his fingers brush against your inner thigh.

Mingyu chuckles and turns you around, pressing you against the shower wall. "Good," he says, his body caging you in as he begins to soap up your back. "I want you to be excited." You feel the coolness of the soap on your skin as Mingyu's hands move over your back, his touch firm and deliberate. He kneads the muscles in your shoulders and neck, working out any tension you might have.

"Relax," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let me take care of you." His hands slide lower, massaging your lower back and then moving to your ass. He gives it a gentle squeeze, causing you to gasp.

"So perfect," he says, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to be inside you." You turn around to face Mingyu, your hand reaching out to wrap around his thick cock. He groans as you begin to stroke him, his eyes closing in pleasure.

"Fuck, that feels good," he says, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. You smile, feeling empowered by the way you're affecting him. You drop to your knees, your eyes locked on his as you lean in to take him into your mouth.

Mingyu's hands tangle in your hair as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, savoring the taste of him. "Y-Y/N," he moans, his grip on your hair tightening. You take him deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down as you work him over. Mingyu's moans grow louder, his hips thrusting slightly as he tries to hold back.

"Stop, stop," he gasps, pulling you off him. "I don't want to cum yet." He helps you up and pins you against the wall again, his body pressed against yours. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice hoarse with need. Mingyu turns you around once more, bending you over slightly as he positions himself behind you. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you push back against him.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his hands gripping your hips. He slides into you slowly, inch by inch, until he's fully seated inside you. You gasp at the sensation of being filled so completely, your hands splayed against the shower wall for support.

Mingyu begins to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, but quickly building in intensity. The sound of water splashing around you mixes with the sounds of your moans and his grunts as he pounds into you. Mingyu's pace is relentless as he drives into you, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you in place. The water from the shower is running down your bodies, making everything slick and slippery.

"You feel so good," he growls, his chest pressed against your back. "So tight and wet for me." You arch your back, trying to take him even deeper, and he responds by reaching around to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming, and you feel yourself hurtling towards your orgasm.

"Mingyu, I'm going to-" you cry out, your words cut off by a moan as you come hard around his cock. Mingyu groans as he feels you clench around him, his own orgasm following close behind. He thrusts deep one last time, his cock pulsing as he spills inside you.

"Y-Y/N," he gasps, holding you tightly as he rides out his climax. You both stay like that for a moment, panting and shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasms. Mingyu finally pulls out and turns you around to face him, a satisfied smile on his face.

"That was incredible," he says, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. "You're incredible."

"That was amazing," you say, your voice a little shaky. "I didn't know it could feel like that." Mingyu grins and kisses you softly, his hands stroking your back. "I'm glad I could show you," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “This can be our new work out together.”

[carame1bunny]

𝔊𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔢

pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader

summary: Alastor comforts his little doe to sleep

warning: none! just some fluff and ooc Alastor:)

No one knew of Alastor’s little nightly ritual. After everyone went to sleep, he made his way down to the bar for a cold glass of whiskey. To clear his head and have some silence to himself.

Except, he wasn’t alone tonight…

Y/N was somewhat new at the Hazbin Hotel. She arrived in hell confused, disoriented and alone. She was wandering around the Vee tower, when she spotted the commercial on one of the televisions. A shelter she could go to. The Hazbin family took her in quickly and she enjoyed being there, she wasn’t cold, hungry, nor alone anymore. She was a big help to Charlie too, always helping her with the redemption exercises.

Alastor took notice of her the second he saw her. A deer like him, except that he was a big scary buck and she was a lovely doe. He never made a move on her, afraid that he would mess even a tiny bit with her sensitive little heart. But, he would always do little gestures for her. Helping her out here and there, and always stocking up on those little heart shaped chocolates she liked.

But back to tonight.

While he was on his way to the bar, he heard a little sniff from the parlor, he felt his heart tighten when he saw the doe curled up on the couch. Her little fluffy ears were hanging low and her pink nose was twitching sadly.

She didn’t even see the Radio Demon coming down, and her eyes widened when she heard his static voice.

“Is everything alright, my doe?” When she looked up, he was towering over her curled up position, and looking down at her with that lovey-dovey gaze, a rare sight to see.

“I’m okay, no biggie.” She tried to mush a smile onto her face, but he saw right through her.

He took a seat next to her and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her, which she took gratefully.

“Don’t be shy. Feel free to tell me whatever is hurting your little heart.” When he said this, the dam broke. Her tears started flowing down her cheeks, and her lips were morphed into an adorable pout. “Oh, little doe.” He gathered her up in his arms and put her on his lap, she put her head on his chest. He felt her body shaking as she weeped in his arms.

His clawed hands gently caressed the top of her head, stroking her soft ears that were connected to her fluffy hair.

He spoke again, when her shaking lessened.

“Do tell, my dear, what got you so upset?” He said while he positioned her head, so she was looking up at him.

“I just had a long day. I was out, because Charlie needed more colored pencils and some guy on the street started talking to me.” Her lips wobbled again at the memory.

“What did he say?” He let her rest on his chest, and this way, she couldn’t see the way his face was turning into a more demonic expression. Who dared to h̴̩͛͒͆͑̐̄͂̀͝͝u̵͓͚̖͍͎͒̾̽́̈́̚̚͘ŗ̵̟͚̝͇͗̒̋́́̈́̀́t̵̨̤̺̟̳̝̔́̕͠ͅ ̷͈̩̔̾̐̾͐̂̑̕͜͝͠ḧ̷̨̖̪̲́͂̂̏́̈́̆͝ị̴̧̠̺͉̫͇̞̙̽̈ͅs̴̡̖͓̠͋̓̏̈́̒̕͘ ̶̳̳̘̘͚̭̳̟̪͙̏l̷̬̻̯͉̐̈́̃͘i̵̛̥̞̙̠̪̮̻t̴̡͎̮̬͍̦͕͑̐͗̈́̾̐͝ţ̷͎̥̪̻͕̠͓͉͈̇̈́̈͗̚̚l̴͉̎̿̐̇̆́͒́̆̃e̴͍̣̼̓ ̶̢̗͍̟͈̹̉̉̇͜d̶͙͉̻̗͚̬̦͎̖̖̂̀͊͝ơ̶̛̲̩̻͕̤̙̜̹͓̂͠ͅe̵͙̳̙̻̫̱̅͑͝?

“Disgusting things…”

He leaned back, so she was laying on his lap. With a snap of his fingers, a soft blanket was on her. “Well, you deserve to be treated nicely and gently.” He looked down into her doe eyes. “Don’t listen to those awful people, but if they dare to say another nasty word to you, just tell me. And I��ll make sure they won’t speak another word in their pathetic afterlife ever again.”

She smiled softly and snuggled between his shoulder blade and neck. She spoke with a sweet whisper. “Thank you, Alastor, truly.”

“No need, as I said, you deserve all the lovely things.” Her soft hair was tickling his neck, and he found himself nuzzling more into it.

“Sleep now, I’ll make sure to guard your dreams.” But he realized that her face was already relaxed and her breaths were even. He planted a kiss on her head, and her ears flattened from the softness of his lips.

“Good night, my doe.”

Yes, tomorrow he will make sure to find that bitch that disrespected her and hunt him down.