#s.o. writes things

[spaceorphan18]

Alright. So. This is a thing that happened....

I... maybe have written my first real X-Men - Rogue/Gambit fic. Inspired by an interview X-Men 97 Gambit Voice Actor did. And then, it got posted to Twitter. And then said Gambit Voice Actor reblogged it, READ IT, and commented.

I am so... shellshocked you guys. I cannot believe this happened. I just... I was shaking when I found out today. This is wild and amazing and I'm so flattered and wow. I just can't even believe it.

I have literally been smiling all day.

<3

[metabolizemotions]

Maybe Station 19 was like an experimental cubist painting.

There were too many stories to be told and too many people trying to tell them, from too many perspectives, with too many styles…

Each viewer saw a different picture.

It was the show that tried to capture the zeitgeist and represent the under-represented. Also the show that often struggled. With the tones and textures. With representing w/o tokenizing. B/w laughing with and laughing at. B/w realism and romanticizing. B/w deliberate and arbitrary. B/w educating and entertaining. B/w what they consider profane and sacrosanct.

At times, it touched our hearts deeply. At times, it frustrated us to no end.

Not every story was given the respect, sensitivity and intricacy it was due.

One moment could lead to a profound understanding of an aspect of a lived life some of us had never known; while the next could be a moment that was beyond confounding - about an aspect of ourselves that made us feel slighted, diminished and even erased.

It had often been an exercise in empathy to find our common humanity at the intersectionality of stories. Yet, the scale of empathy often skewed too far in favor of some characters with the differing standards, narrative frames and plot armors. Ironically yet reasonably turning people off these very characters they wanted people to root for. A persistent dissonance and disconnect.

But it was also the show that didn’t shy away from the ugly, the raw, the uncomfortable and messy parts of our shared human experience. The tribulations of oppression. The perils of ambition. The tests of morality. The trials of friendship and love. That we would make mistakes, but we could also make amends. That we're not defined by our worst. That our best lives could still be in front of us despite the current struggles. That sometimes life sucks but having your people with you makes it more bearable.

I would think it an interesting journey for the diversity of people behind, on, and in front of the screen. The evolving stories, evolving characters, evolving storytellers, an evolving fandom - all amidst an evolving media landscape.

It was probably not an easy show to make. The show had a bewilderingly lack of support from abc or shondaland. Diversity seemed to be both good for promotion (when there was any) and the reason for the prejudice against it.

Just as it had not been an easy show to watch - so biased, inconsistent and self-contradictory. Like when they kept telling us about the family spirit and deep friendships yet somehow spent more time showing otherwise. Or when the writing of systemic sexism was somehow inherently sexist.

Personally, I don’t think characters belong to the writers alone. Besides the usual constraints, the characters were often adjusted back and forth to fit the plots. We’ve also learnt how network execs' dislikes, writers’ personal experiences were factored into the stories. I fully respect the writers’ artistic rights. But actors who embodied the characters for years have a unique understanding too. Viewers also have their personal takes about what were true to characters. It's ok to agree to disagree.

There had been sparks of brilliance, but often extinguished too soon. It has been confounding how the greys-verse did not capitalise on its vast potential, esp. S19. Even while both shows share a show-runner. Grey's anatomy could have lent its scale while Station 19 could have injected renewed energy back into its mothership. Both shows could have been better for it.

Although the characters have the foundation of distinct and interesting backstories, their development often did not fully utilise the narrative potential and the talents of the cast. I’m sure the crew was also competent and hardworking. But somehow some elements b/w n within the shows seemed to just cancel each other out instead of amplifying their impact. IMO 704 and 709 were a few exceptions.

But I'll always be glad S19 existed and we got a S7. I believe they had tried their best to wrap up and give closure to everyone invested in the show. I truly appreciated the hard work given the circumstances even when I personally didn't agree with some takes.

In the end, I really do want to remember it as the show with heart, the show that made us laugh and cry and the show that tried. The show that's unique - in both its merits and flaws. I’ll definitely miss the characters. One last time - 19!

[littlemoriflower]

"I wish I could feel your smell. Not in a creepy way...Just in the way lovers do when they hold each other close. I would bury my face in the crook of your neck and, uh, breath, you know? Breath you in as much as my lungs could take, then, I would exhale and do it all over again."

[seungkwanniee]

ANGELS STILL EXSIST?

pairings : barista!seungcheol x fem!reader

genre : angst with little fluff in it , strangers to acquaintances

warnings : mention of food , lonliness , agoraphobia (being scared of crowded place) , overthinking , anxiety / panic attack , reader being harsh to herself , struggle to breath , people making fun of reader , mention of bulimia ( not at all ) , tears , few swearing

wc: 1.8k

synopsis : s.o. just has a messed up mind, and Seungcheol is in the right spot in the right time

an : starting school in one day so manifesting that it will be not hard write trought the school year + changed my dividers because the previous ones were basic asf. My frist time writing a thing like that so yes i know this isn't the best 😭

〔 masterlist 〕

today was not your day but again, when it was ? At least, you got dropped earlier from work, so you just decided to make a quick stop to the near bar. You went here for like, 2 times? and it was long ago but you always overhear your coworkers talking about how they always try to make in time to eat ones of their breakfast. They must have gold hands then?

[5.17pm]

as you enter in the cozy bar, the little bell above the door makes everyone knows your presence. It wasn't that crowdy, fortunately. You just wanted to chill and eat as you were starving after your tiring work today. In you sight, you can only see an old couple ejoying their tea while behind the counter a young and lovely man raise his head as soon he hears the familiar sound

"what we order for you?" he asks when you stand up in front of him. His soft smile shows his single dimple and makes his eyes go so cutely tiny "a capuccino" you reply, completely forgotting about your hungry state "that's all?" he involountary remembers you that you haven't eat nothing for hours "oh, a brioche too" the guy behind the counter nods, inviting you to take a seat

and now, you get why they love this place. It wasn't for the food (well, also this) but you founded this so comfortable, maybe you liked it better than your home. From your house you can't eat a spetacular brioches, smell the good things that they prepare at the moment, you can't hear the sound of the laughter filling the athmosphere while watching the stunning sun setting down the flower sitting outside the bar. Your house was nothing compared to his: your cooking skill weren't this good, the smell was nothing but the atrocius gas coming from the cars running down the street. Your house was always so soundless, no laughter filling it, and from your window no sunset can be seen.

It wasn't a home, it was just an house, but you never really realized how sad and underwhelming it was.

Your thoughts got distracted from the same guy - Seungcheol, you can read from his tag now - serving you what you ordered, "eat well" his smile was always here, and you find it so cute but you wonder how many times he fakes it, what's under it. You just smile back at him, thanking him. Overall, they were so right about this place, its like entering in another world.

[2 days after]

you never liked waking up early, but what you were doing today? You just woke up 30 earlier than usual just to experience the same coziness before going to work. It was so additcing, not your fault

You get dressed in your usual clothes, swatpants and big coat because it was damn cold outside. Just the walk from your front door to your car, freezed your cheeks and nose making them slightly red. Maybe you were too sensitive, but anyway you rushed trowards the car door, making inside and putting on your playlist to wram you up. You hum along the songs, tapping your fingers on the wheel, involountary smiling as you know the warm and cozy place will confort you.

It wasn't like you expected tho, you widen your mouth when you see the amount of person entering and exting the bar. Even tought it was all cute, the big sign with the cutest writing and the colorfull flower standing outside, you didn't finded it cute anymore with all this people. You was so stupid, ofcurse it would be crowded if they are making the best breakfasts. Your soul was fighting inside: you were a grown woman, how you can't go inside a place only because people were in there. It sounded so redicolous to yourself, you can't even imagine what people would think. Otherwise, you wanted to taste another time the delicious brioche you eated only two days ago, it was so good that just thinking about it was making your mouth watering. You didn't even did breakfast at home for this reason, it was time to take aside your childish fears, no?

The cold weather hitted once again your cheeks, making you walk faster trowards the entrace and without even thinking about it, you were in. Maybe it was a bad choice as your legs were trembling under your warm sweatpants, but now you're here. You can't just walk outside againg, you would look dumb. What the other people would think of you? an odd weird kid. They would laugh while telling the not-so-funny story to ther friends, coworkers, family. And what if they recognize you in the street again? they would laugh right in your face for sure. What if, what if, wha-

"omg, y/n is here" the sound of a voice calling you out makes you raise your eyes from your shoes. You hide your head more into your scarf when the familiar faces are right in front you, and this makes you wish you never left your car or maybe your house. You awkwardly smile at their not welcomed figure, letting out an hand from your pocked to give the girls a little wave. You never get along your coworkers that much, you just ended up with no friends inside the place so they just makes little fun of you. Nothing you can't handle, it was common, but you being already overwhelmed because of the crowd inside of the place wasn't helping you at all. "what are you doing here? you eat for real?" you giggle with them, when they make fun of yourself, "it wasn't even funny" you wish you had the courage to say that, but in reality you just stand here while they makes fun of you. "make sure you don't throw up after eating, mh" the disgusting hand lands on you cheek, caressing it while her fake caring tone only makes you feel dizzy. Making fun of you just because you're skinnier than them wasn't funny.

You watch them walking away, well you can't properly do this. Your eyes were itching because of the tears wrapping them, and your head spinning wasn't helping at all. Your slightly trembing hands were making a pounch inside of your coat pockets because you were angry, sad, tired, defenceless and weak at the same time. The troath was now completely dry, you weren't even sure if you were able to speak to someone in few minutes, adding to your heavy chest. You were having a panic attack for sure. You went trought this many times before, so you should know how to deal with it, but it was like you can't even think straight right now, never wishing more to someone rescue you.

And it was like today the planets were all on your side, literally an angel falling from the sky. When you hear the soft voice speaking almost near to you ear, taking one of your arm walking you somewhere, you tought you was in heaven. 'This is real life or I just died?' were your exactly tought. "i'm sorry to bother you, I just saw what happened" the guy says, but it was like you weren't even listening him. "sit down" he places both hands on your shoulder, forcing you to take a sit in a place you never seen, but it seems more like the back of a local. "okay, kay, it's okay" probably he was looking at you with pity eyes, and it just sound so ridiculous. Your eyes weren't able to contain this amount of water, they just needed to escape somewhere. Your elaborated breath was making your chest havier and more painful, at the point that it started to be harder to breath by yourself. "gosh" he humble, Seungcheol was mad worried for you. It may sound weird but as an empathetic, yes, he was so worried about a stranger, half-stranger. He noticed you right away when you entered for the frist time to the bar, you looked so pretty in your big coat that was pratically eating you. It looked so obvious in your face your tiredness but in his eyes, you still looked so gorgeous. Something in you attracted him that he almost jumped from happiness when you appared again today. He was praying all day long hoping that you would show up so he could make a move and well, now he is making a move, not the one he expected tho.

"watch my breath, can you?" he kneels in front of you, his hand slipping down to your shaky arms and it may looks nothing, but his hands were bringing you the comfort you always wanted, not only when your mental health was messing with you. His brown eyes never leaving yours for a sec, piearcing right inside of you. "you need to match my breath, you can do it" his voice like honey for your hears, he wans't rushing you neither disrespecting your boundaries. Your heart was literally racing inside of you, and so many thoughts were going inside of your head. Why you weren't able to controll your attack today, you always deal with it but it was like you weren't in your body anymore. You was wondering why a stranger was helping you, there were still angels in this earth. What the fuck he was thinking of you, maybe you just looked so ugly, rediculus or like a kid. His bar was so full of people, he must be working right now but you were probably just a pain in the ass for him.

"stop thinking, focus on my breath" his hand moves on your chin now, slightly raising your head, while he gently caress your cold cheek. It didn't disgust you as before, his touch was gentle, almost scared of breaking you, that it brought a feeling of inexplicable calm. Your eyes glued on his lip, following his same peace.

"i'm so sorry" you take deep breaths when you were able to talk again without killing yourself for the lack of air. Now that you were able to think straight, the face of the guy seems so familiar to you. "for?" the guy tilt to one side his head, still kneeling in front of you while his hands lay on your knees. He looked so cute when his dimple shows, while his hair moves to his forehead because of the movement. Your hands were playing with each other, still feeling a little embarassed. Doing this, your eyes land on the tag attacked on his brown apron. "Seungcheol" it was supposted to be a thought, but it involountary slipped out of your mouth, "yeah, that's me. What's your name?" your cheeks turn red when you realize, making him giggle. Almost wishpering your name, you stand up from the chair, making Seungcheol standing up too. "you must be busy, i'm sorry that i bothered you. We can go back inside" you words were almost impossible to understand as your voice was so low and still a little cracked for the crying.

"don't worry, stay here, I can bring you something to eat" he invites you to take a sit again, but you were to stubborn. You already fucked up his schedule, you weren't bothering him any more. Plus, your work was waiting you soon. "Don't bother, go back to work. I have to go to mine soon" your still red eyes looked at him, and those were the things that weren't convincing him at all. "I insist, you must be hungry. I can take you to work if you want"

how angels can still exist?

[02chois]

currently thinking abt how sweet all of txt would probably be So sweet taking their s.o’s virginity. (even cuter if it’s both people’s first time, bc i feel like yeonjuns kinda cocky about it, but he does need some guidance from you to know what you like. and both soobin and hyuka would be So Shy and just. the sweetest first times, even if they cum quickly, bc they just do their best and communicate so well (even if soobins a tomato voicing anything explicit) they’d definitely all do their best to make their partner cum

TXT WITH A VIRGIN S/O

pairing: OT5 (separate) x afab! reader

synopsis: txt as virgins with a virgin s/o during their first times

word count: 2k words

content warnings: virgin! txt, virgin! reader, dom! taehyun, riding, manhandling, size difference, oral (reader receiving), dirty talking, creampie, premature ejaculation, fingering

note: this took me a while to write, I had to think five different scenarios and how they'll be in that situation. hopefully I did well. hope you enjoy 🫶

SOOBIN

He'd be the sweetest despite being nervous and he's so, so gentle with you. His hands would lightly touch your skin and ever so slightly press his soft lips to yours. He's aware of his size in comparison to you, so he's careful in how he'll handle you.

You reach out a trembling hand to his face and place it to his cheek, he brought his hand to hold yours and pressed his lips to the palm of your hand. In the dim, hazy glow, his form above you was framed with light, he looked so angelic. He slowly moved his hips, pushing himself deeper inside you.

A gasp escaped both of your lips, your warm walls felt so good around him. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer.

"You liked that, sweetheart? Do you want me to put it all in?" And despite his red face, he asked you with words he had never said before.

As mentioned he'll be so gentle and loving, and he'll leave lingering touches on your skin. He loves watching you reach out to him for more.

And when you mentioned you're a virgin and want him to be your first, he was speechless. The pounding of his heart could be heart in between the silence. But he's so eager to satisfy you knowing it's your first time.

It took him some time to tell you it was his first time, as well. He was so shy and hesitant, the grip he had on you tightened and he had to hide his face in the crook of your neck. And the next thing you heard from him was, "I'm a virgin, too."

Your name easily slips from his tongue— and his lidded eyes? How could he possibly be so endearing and so inviting with that face. His lips slightly ajar as short gasps and quiet moans escape between them. And fuck, he'll make love to you alright.

He prefers slow thrusts of his hips into yours, long and deep, hitting your sensitive spot. It's difficult to keep himself from cumming from how good you feel, the way your walls squeeze him and your nails clawing his back.

When he cums earlier than you, he'll make sure to make you come because he feels a bit guilty. Soobin won't hesitate to go down on you even without prior experience. Guide him and put your hand in his hair, he's a fast learner and so eager to make you feel good.

First time with him is lingering touches, seeing the noticeable size difference, slow and gentle fucking all night, and hearing his quiet moans and occasional whimpers.

YEONJUN

The man would be so cocky and would say he knows what he's doing, although the moment when you're both undressed his mind blanks out. But he'll tell you how beautiful you are, encouraging you not to cover and hide yourself from him. He wants to see more of you.

His hands would be on your chest, fingers pinching your nipples in a teasing manner. He'll leave a trail of kisses onto your neck to your collarbones, his lips grazing across the exposed skin. He lives for the noises you make whenever he touches you in certain areas.

The way his fingers work on your cunt was driving you crazy— his index and ring finger teasing your hole, inserting them for a moment before pulling them out.

"I know a thing or two and I'll make sure to make use of it to satisfy you, so please let me hear you." His fingers bottomed into you, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel if it was his cock inside you.

Yeonjun's both gentle and rough, however he cares more about what you want rather than his own needs. He'll ask you if he's being too much or if you want more.

You told him you were a virgin first and he had this shy smile across his lips, only to say he was the same. And when you mentioned you want him to be your first was when he looked at you surprised.

He'll press his lips onto yours and he loves the way you'd pant heavily when he pulls away, then he'll deepen the kiss. He won't stop until your hands aren't on his shoulder or tapping him to give you a break.

Questions. He asks so many questions. "Do you want me to touch you here?" "Tell me what you want, love." "I want to hear it from you. Use your words, okay?" "Please, guide me so I can satisfy you." And many more.

And god it feels unreal in some way— how mouth watering he felt in you, how warm and impossibly dominating that you couldn't stop yourself from squeezing around him. He wouldn't even move until you said so.

He pulls out whenever he feels like he's going to cum, he doesn't want to cum until you do. It's romantic in a way. And he'd be so talkative, so surprisingly good at dirty talk that his words would be enough to send you to the edge.

First time with him is a pleasant conversation, asking what you prefer, hearing him spew dirty words, and fucking until you both cum.

BEOMGYU

He's also very careful with how he touches you, and it's not because of size differences or whatnot, he's afraid that you won't like where he'll be touching you. He will always look at your reaction as he places his hand on your exposed skin and will lightly press his lips on your shoulder.

"How does it feel?" He bottomed into you— and the overwhelming feeling of being filled made you shiver, your hips couldn't stay put from the hot mess between your legs. It feels incredibly good, the sting was barely there.

"Feels good, huh? I know it does." Beomgyu purposefully selects each of his words with uttermost eagerness and delicately holding your hips. "And you feel heavenly around me."

He leans down with his arm propped beside your head and lowered himself further into you, his forehead resting on yours. "I'll move, okay? Breathe and relax, and tell me if it's painful."

He's so reassuring and that he'll always check up on you and what you're feeling. He's talkative but not because of dirty talk, but he's so concerned about you because it's your first time.

However, when you asked about him— he would quickly change the subject and ask about your preferences and if you'd like to turn off the lights during the act. He's just too shy to discuss what he likes so he directs the questions back to you and hopes you would forget.

Give him some time and he'll slowly go out of his shell and share what he likes, and it's kind of endearing because he'll be inside you and talk about what he'll do for aftercare. And speaking of aftercare, he's the sweetest and he'll talk about how good you are and praise you.

He likes to feel you close against his skin, so the positions he prefers are missionary. Beomgyu will have your back pressed against his chest and his arms around your waist, and slowly move his hips into yours. The intimacy that position gives is perfect for him.

He loves it when you grind against him— desperately searching for more friction, getting more and more impatient from how it's taking him too long to move. And it's his tendency to tease you and ask for more, he loves hearing you whine.

First time with him is taking his time on you, soft whispers of assurance, close contact of skin, and aftercare that lasts longer.

TAEHYUN

He would be assertive but gentle, his words carefully selected with uttermost rigorousness. Hands covered in calluses— rough to the touch, caressing your skin ever so slightly. His arms would wrap around you to lift you up and place you wherever he wants.

His form above you was framed with light, his dark hair sticking onto his temples and his neck highlighted by muscles. You could also make out slight beads of sweat on his forehead, shimmering as he moved. He could just eat you up.

The raw feeling of having you squeeze around him, so wet and warm, he couldn't help but bury his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel his hot breath and his chest heaving. It takes so much for him not to cum right then and there.

"Taehyun—"

"Shh… I know, I know. I'll move, don't worry." His voice was raspy as he spoke, pushing himself into you to fill you up to the brim.

Despite his assertiveness, he's still sweet and gentle because he's afraid to break you. The last thing he wants is to hurt you. Unless you're into that kind of thing?

And when the topic went to your sexual experiences, he fully admits to not having any. So the fact that you're each other's first is special to him and he'd have this shy smile on his lips the whole time. The fact that you want him to be your first is enough to let him know how much you love him.

He couldn't get enough of you and he's high off you— that he's so addicted to your scent, his hands and face will be on your skin at all times. He'll compliment how soft you are, and how you smell so good.

And because of his assertiveness, you could easily tell he's a Dom from the start. But the shyness is still evident from the way he talks to you in bed and how he handles you— though he knows what he wants, but he'll always ask how you want it.

He'll keep it slow and gentle for you, although he's dying to fuck you senseless. His self-control is admirable. You could see the beads of sweat on his temple from holding back.

First time with him is hearing his heavy breathing, the bed squeaking, borderline manhandling in the sweetest way, and holding back one's desire.

HUENING KAI

He doesn't take such acts too seriously and prefers to see you smile— his fingers gently hovering above your skin, trying to see if you're ticklish. And while the others prefer to have you underneath, he'll have you on his lap to give you the freedom.

"Do you want to touch me?" He asked with a grin, waiting for you to initiate anything. He won't touch you until you give him a go signal and he'll hold your hand if you're nervous.

The view from this position is what drives him insane. He could see how you'd slowly sink onto his cock, sucking him in so eagerly— watching your face contort into pleasure.

"Is my baby okay? That's not too difficult, isn't it?" His hands would be on your hips, guiding you to move and grind you against him.

Foreplay with him includes hearing him giggle nervously, spewing some nonsense here and there. But Kai loves to make you smile while pleasuring you, touching you on your sensitive areas and showering you with kisses.

He was so shy when the subject of sexual experiences came up. It took him a while to admit that he was a virgin, however the moment you said you were, too— he was over the moon.

He was nervous to be your first. He wants it to be perfect and make you feel nothing but pleasure and make you feel so loved by him. And because of that, he arranged all kinds of romantic decorations in your bedroom. The lights are dim and the room smells of roses.

During the act however, he gets so lost in the feeling of you around him. He's so expressive that you could guess what he's feeling from simply looking at his face. His brows would furrow from the intense pleasure, and the way you'd bounce on him feels so good. He'll whisper sweet nothings to you, and how good you're making him feel.

He never felt anything like this before and it's so addicting. Kai wouldn't be able to get this feeling out of his mind, he would want you even more. He'd look for your touch.

First time with him is anything but serious, shared giggles and laughter, peppering your face with kisses, sweet talks and lingering gazes.

[ellssbellss]

Hey! I love your writing so much, especially lavender roses! I was wondering if you could write a Host Club x reader who has a lot of random hobbies (woodworking, painting, fencing, singing, writing, etc)?

I just know that if I had Ouran money, I’d have so many more hobbies. Thank you!

my life is a little hectic right now, as all you lovely people know. but I had this written, or most of it anyway, and I wanted to post it :) thank you for your patience with me while I deal with this difficult time, and for your amazing request!

The Hosts and their S.O. with too many hobbies! {Ohshc x Gender Neutral!Hobbiest!Reader}

missing Honey and Haruhi - will add them when I can!

.oOo.

Tamaki’s reader:

Ballet

Gardening

Painting

Tamaki’s eyes sparkled as you leaped across the stage, never daring to look away from your sculpted body framed in the dramatic stage lights. Tears had been glistening in his violet eyes since your first pirouette, and now he was wiping his cheek every chance he could get. Quickly, so he didn’t miss a single moment. 

The prince was left breathless as you danced. The art of ballet flowed so naturally through your form, you looked like you belonged on that stage. Through the kaleidoscope of his tears, Tamaki sighed as you spun and jumped and just moved so fluidly, the emotion on your face making him feel with you.

Your technique dazzled every single member of the audience, and when you bowed, the blonde man was the first to shoot up from his seat. He shoved his palms together unceremoniously, whooping and cheering as everyone politely clapped around him, but he didn’t care. When you tipped your head up and found his wet eyes in the crowd with a playful smile on your lips, he knew he had never seen anything more beautiful. 

Scratch that. 

“Tamaki!” Your hand shot up from the sea of people filing into the theater lobby, and he zoned in on it. On a mission, a blonde head and a (h/c) head come closer together, pushing through the black suits and long dresses in order to greet the other. Finally, the waters part, and Tamaki takes in your glory with a grin. 

“Mon amour…” He breathes, and it’s all you can do not to skip to him as you hold your pointe shoes in your hand. The bouquet of flowers he brought are set down in favor of catching your form and spinning you in the air. His hands come flat against your back as he buries his face in your neck, whispering your praises into your hair. 

“You did so well, my love.” He feels your hands wrap tighter around his neck. “You’re so incredibly talented.” 

Setting you down gently, he cradles your face. Your beaming at him, pride and adrenaline coursing through your pupils as you try to catch your breath, and he revises his initial thought. 

This is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Your gorgeous features enveloped in pure joy. 

Chuckling, his voice is like butter as he runs one of his fingers over your cheekbone. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Your chest heaves, but your smile is bright. “Especially after seeing you in the audience.”

“Please,” He says, tugging you closer. “I never would’ve missed the opportunity to see you shine.”

Tamaki kisses you then, and you melt. His fingers are gentle against your jaw, peeking into your hairline for a moment as your lips meet sweetly. You hum when he pulls away, wacking him when he smirks at the blush on your face. 

“Everytime.” He says, teasing you with a kiss to your cheek. 

“Shut up.” You groan. “You can’t kiss me like that and not expect it to affect me.”

“Like what?” A blonde eyebrow quirks up. “Like this?”

He leans in again before someone clears their throat. A man with a collar too high on his neck gives you two a disapproving glare as he walks by, clearly upset by the dramatic display of affection. 

You just giggle as the man moves on somewhere else. “Maybe we shouldn’t kiss like that in front of all these people.”

Tamaki rolls his eyes but steps away from you ever-so-slightly. “When you look at me like that, I can’t help myself.”

“Contain yourself.” You tease. 

“That will never be possible, mon amour, when my heart can’t even contain its beat with you in this leotard.” Shrugging off his suit jacket, he drapes it around your shoulders. “Maybe cover up a little though, huh? Just for my sanity?”

Laughing, you pull your arms through the too big sleeves, basking in the cologne smell and the sense of security it brings you. “Okay. You can just take it off later.”

Tamaki’s eyes widen as a blush forms on his cheeks, but he grins. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Look who’s talking.” Putting your arm through his, you lean against his side and giggle, his stature supporting you like it always does. But as you turn him towards the front door of the theater, he gasps. 

“Wait!” Your boyfriend quickly spins and grabs the flowers that were almost forgotten on the carpet, luckily not trampled by the crowd of opera goers. 

“These…” Separating your arms softly, he stands in front of you, bowing as he holds out the gift. “...are for you, darling.”

He hears you gasp, and when he straightens, your eyes are wide and sparkling at the flowers in front of you. (E/c) pools scan every petal, every leaf and stem, and your hand gently cradles the buds. 

“Tama…” Your voice is soft enough to not disturb the flora in front of you. “These are from my garden.” 

He nods. “I wanted to make the bouquet special enough for you.”

“You wrapped them up so beautifully…” You breathe, and you scan them top to bottom. Your eyes pause at the bottom of the stems. “You didn’t give them a diagonal cut?” 

A hand comes to cover his mouth. “Oh, no! I forgot to give them a diagonal cut!” Tamaki swallows before running a hand through his hair. “Before I fix it, of course, just remind me what that is.”

Your hair doesn’t jostle from the hairspray that holds your ballet hair together when you shake your head. “Silly prince. It’s when you cut the bottom of the stem diagonally when you pick them, so that they can absorb more water.”

“Oh…” And with that, a determined gleam twinkled in his eye. “That’s an easy fix! Let me find some scissors.” Quickly, he looks around the bustling lobby, waving his hand. “Who has scissors?!”

“No! No, Tamaki.” Laughing, you bring his hand back down to your side, cradling the large bouquet in your other arm. “It’s fine. Just remember for next time.” 

He sees your throat bob, as if you’re holding something else back. “Is there something else, amour?”

You take a breath, fully prepared to deny anything, but you sigh, slumping your shoulders as another critique spills out of you. “And also, for next time, just get me chocolate? I work really hard on making sure these flowers stay alive, and they look much prettier on the bush they were grown on then arranged only to die in a few days.”

Your heart lunges when you see a darkened expression take over his face. “Oh my god, I killed your flowers.”

“That’s okay! It’s fine, roses are easy to grow this time of year, I promise.” You hurry to correct him, putting your palm on his jaw. “I was trying to make it special, I swear.” He whines. His hand comes to rest over yours on his cheek, his fingers grasping your own. “I just didn’t think about it that way.” 

You simper at him. “It was special. Knowing how much care you put into arranging them like this is so special to me. Thank you, Tamaki.”

It’s your turn to kiss him on the cheek, and he practically melts. As you’re about to walk out of the busy theater, you feel Tamaki’s arms wrap around your form. He lifts you, cradling you like the royalty you are. 

Before you can protest, he shoves your face into the crook of his neck, blonde wisps tickling your cheeks. “Your poor legs, they must be so sore after all that dancing.”

“I can walk just fine.”

“I know.” He squeezes you closer to his chest, and your arms betray your words as they wrap around his neck. 

Tamaki takes you back to your home, your parents having missed the recital in favor of a business trip somewhere. There was a long shower, a hot meal, and plenty of cuddling and soft touches before the evening sky touched down into night, and the moonlight poured into the large windows of your place. 

Now, he leans on the couch, his feet propped up as he stretches his long form across the length of the white cushions. The serene night fluttered as he opened his eyes from a lazy nap he took, inhaling the scent that was so perfectly you. It calmed him. 

To his side, a clanking sound rang into the quiet space. He slowly turned his head to see you gently setting a cup of tea onto one of the side tables. He meets your sheepish gaze when you realize you woke him up, biting your lip. 

“I know you’re better at making tea, but I tried.” You offer, spinning the saucer with two fingers so that the handle was facing him. A sweet smile pulls his beautiful face as he sits up.

“Thank you, mon amour.” Reaching for the tea cup, he sees that you are about to walk away from him towards the arching window in your bedroom, the one that looks out over your garden. There is a paint easel set up facing the view, a nearly-exact replica of it being portrayed on your canvas. 

Tsking, he lightly grips your wrist, putting pressure to spin you back around. With a yelp, you fall seamlessly across his lap, his arm bracing your back. 

“I didn’t get to thank you properly.” His voice rumbles, and his lips are pressed to yours again, leaving you to soften into a lovesick puddle. Your mouths move once, twice, and you can’t resist holding him there for a third time before you separate. His violet eyes transfix on your features, a gentle smile on his lips. 

“What?” You ask, laughing as he zones out once again. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he sinks into his, what you like to call, mental theater. “Tamaki, you’re staring.”

Blinking, that sparkle in his eyes fades, but not very much. A finger comes out and wipes off a smear of paint from your cheek. “No, I’m falling, amour. All over again.”

Humming, you pick his chin back up into your grasp. “Then I’ll be here to catch you, darling.” 

A cherry blush coats his cheeks when you initiate the kiss this time, and he makes a sound of pleasure against your lips. When you pull away, he is stuttering and hiding behind the tea cup. Chuckling, you watch his hand shake slightly as he tries to regain his cool. “You okay there?”

“What? Of course, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” He rambles, taking a very purposeful sip of the tea you brought him. Then his cheeks bulge, struggling to hold the liquid in his mouth. 

“Oh god, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” You say, covering your mouth. 

Tamaki shakes his head, but he is breaking out into a nervous sweat. 

“Tamaki, spit it out if you don’t like it.” Urging him, you push the cup back to his closed lips. He refuses, his face turning a slight shade of green. 

“Tama!” You laugh a little, pleading with him. His grip on the tea cup tightens, and you see the struggle in his swallow as he forces it down his throat. 

“G-great as always, angel.” He lies, still wincing at the aftertaste. “Oh mon dieu…” He curses underneath his breath. 

Rolling your eyes, you place the cup back on the saucer. “You don’t have to lie.” You insist with a teasing smirk. 

A weak grin escapes his full lips. “You are such a talented person, (Y/n).” He starts, nuzzling into your shoulder. “You’re perfect.” And even as his stomach turns, he is grateful to have a significant other with many talents, even if making tea isn’t one of them. 

.oOo.

Kyoya’s reader:

Debate club

Woodworking

Reading

Long legs race down the hall, dressed in perfectly iron slacks and shined dress shoes. His black book is clasped in his hand as Kyoya turns another corner, the door to his destination finally coming in sight. Breathing a sigh of relief, the megane fixes his glasses, gray eyes trained on the entrance down the hall. 

Students are bustling outside of the auditorium, waiting in line as the start time for the debate draws nearer. Kyoya, at his height, pushes past his fellow peers, easily being able to see over the ocean of yellow dresses and lavender jackets. 

Before he can reach the heavy double doors into the theater space, he’s stopped by a hand at his arm. 

“Excuse me, sir, but you can’t enter the auditorium yet. Not until I’ve been given the green light.” The voice of a security guard sounds over the noise of side conversations, and Kyoya’s dark lashes flick up to meet her stern ones. Clearing his throat, he gently detaches his arm from her grip. He matches her polite smile, a fake one stretching his own lips. 

“I understand, Miss. But I’m actually late. I was supposed to meet someone backstage, but I unfortunately got mine and their schedules muddled.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, but these doors are closed to the public until the start time.” 

Squinting slightly, his host smile grows a little longer on his pale skin. “It’s Miss Kato Hisa, isn’t it?”

The security guard’s eyes widened, knowing that her name tag had been lost in her car for weeks now. “Yes, sir. Have we met?”

“Not formally, no.” Tucking his black book under his arm, he reaches his palm out, grasping her hand in greeting. “I am Ootori Kyoya. Third son to the Ootori family.” 

Her hand tightened in his before he let it drop, and she gasped excitedly. “Oh, my gosh, I didn’t realize! Your police force is the top force in the nation.” She smiles sheepishly. “I actually submitted my application a few weeks ago–”

“I’m well aware.” His deep voice cuts her off. “My family only accepts the best, you know. But, I’m sure my father and the chief of the force could be urged in a different direction, with the proper motivations.” 

Hisa’s grin widens. “Wow, Ootori-san, that would be amazing! I would be so grateful–”

“If I could be let in now, then you may have your chance.”

Her grin falls. “But, I can’t do that, sir. I am under strict orders not to let anyone in until the appropriate time.”

“Then I’m afraid your application would fall to the bottom of the pile unseen.” Kyoya’s facade is too sweet for his words. “Forgotten.”

The security guard’s face falls into a thin line, searching the Ootori son’s eyes for the joke, or a speck of unseriousness. Of course, she will find none. She can’t read him the way you can.

“You’re cruel.” Swallowing, her fingers grip around the door handle. Pulling it open a crack wide enough for his lithe frame to slip through, she mumbles as he passes. “Enjoy the debate.” 

“Thank you, I will.” His tone is low as he moves down the aisles to the sides of the stage. What a weak integrity, he muses, flying down the carpeted stairs. She couldn’t last a day on our police force. 

Soon, he hears bustling from behind the debate stage, and he swishes the curtains to the side, slipping into a crowd of debate teams. A stormy gaze sweeps over the crowd, looking for a conglomerate of dark blue suits, the official uniform of the Ouran Debate Team. Once he finds them, he makes a beeline for an (h/c) individual bouncing their leg, a historical fiction novel in their hands. 

He simpers at the genre. You only read historical fiction when you’re nervous. 

You don’t hear the click of his dress shoes before he is stopped right in front of you, too engrossed in the story to pick out your boyfriend’s movements.

“(Y/n).” That voice shocks you from your trance, and you sweep your gaze up from your seat to find Kyoya smirking down at you, a little flushed. Gasping, you stand immediately, a wide smile taking over your lips. 

“Kyo.” You greet him happily, placing your book onto a lone table next to you. “I’m so glad you made it.” Reaching out, you fix a strand of his hair that had been sticking up from his wind-swept look. Then you notice his rapid breaths and his pink cheekbones. 

Chuckling a bit, your smile grows. “Are you okay? Did you run here?”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes at you. “Of course not. Just a brisk walk.” He steps closer, the palm not grasping his journal resting onto your hip. “I apologize for being late. I got the dates confused.”

“The dates?”

Nodding, he flips open the famous black book as he pulls you a little closer into his side so that you could see. You lean into his shoulder as he shows you the section that acts as his planner.

“I thought your debate was tomorrow, when, in reality, your woodworking exposition is tomorrow evening. Since your exposition starts an hour later, I incorrectly believed I had more time to work on my club’s budget.”

“You do tend to get lost in the numbers.” 

His eyes slip past you to the book next to you. “We all have our methods of escape.” 

“I can’t argue with that.” You agree, (e/c) meeting thunderstorms. 

“Now, that’s not true.”  He teasingly gestures to your debate team. “Isn’t that the point of all this?” 

Groaning, you lay your head on his shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”

“(Y/n), my dear.” Pulling apart from you slightly, he takes your hands in his. They are smaller, and he likes that he can encapsulate them in his grasp, keeping them safe. “You’re nervous.”

“You know, it’s not like you to state the obvious.” 

“It’s not like you to be so anxious.” He retorts. “You are usually very confident in your debate abilities.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, a smirk blooming onto your lips. “But being nervous is a natural reaction. Especially when talking about competition.” 

“But don’t you agree that confidence is a more helpful emotion?” He responds, eyeing the smart style you have slicked your hair into. “Empirical evidence supports that people achieve more when they are of competent mind, instead of pushing themselves down.” 

You take a step forward into his space, your shoulders back. “True. However, a study recently conducted in Switzerland concluded that when an individual person is nervous, or feels anxiety, they tend to work harder towards their goal, as their brain specifically prioritizes that achievement rather than any other.”

He hums thoughtfully, also taking a step forward. “Is that so? Wouldn’t more anxiety hinder that ability to do well? Some people succumb to the state of nervousness. Students procrastinate all the time in fear of not doing well, so they don’t end up actually starting.”

Your hands swing lower, till clasped together as you inch forward even more, his angled face only a few breaths from yours. His eye-line makes a triangle shape across your features, going from your left pupil, to your full lips, and then your right. 

“Maybe so, if you are specifically talking about education.” Your voice drops a little lower, falling into a bubble with him. “But in competition, especially group sports like debate, there is an added social pressure. Competitors are not only nervous about their own preparedness, but how that preparedness might affect their team, a team that relies on them. Those anxieties grouped together enhance an individual's motivation to do well.”

Kyoya’s heart drummed a little faster in his chest. Here you were, standing in front of him in a very flattering suit, the color striking against your skin tone. Your words were concise, your tone was steady, and your touch had already been drawing him closer into you. His throat had gone dry at your smart demeanor, your intellect shining in the reflection of his spectacles. 

He needed to pull himself together. 

But he indulged a little more, pulling one of his hands away from yours to grasp your chin in his fingers, tugging your temptations into his hold. “I yield.” He murmured. 

Before your lips could connect, however, another student from the opposing debate team jostled his shoulder. You steadied him as the student grumbled under his breath. “Get a room. Fucking horny high schoolers.” 

Kyoya glared daggers at the man, already calculating the next strike to his reputation before he heard your laughter. He felt you pry his fingers off of you, and he turned to see you smiling curiously at him, the sharp edges of his gaze already softening. 

“Kissing in public?” You tease, placing a small peck on the inside of his palm. “Being late has made you so scrambled.”

Scoffing, he turns your head to the side. Favoring a far more appropriate kiss on the cheek, he responds in your ear. “You’re right, what was I thinking? You have to win to earn it.”

A gasping breath rushes through your lungs. “So not only am I competing in the finals for my debate team, I’m also competing for my boyfriend’s affection.” You narrow your gaze. “You're cruel.” 

He smirks, and now it’s your turn to feel a skipped heartbeat. “So I’ve been told.” 

But you hum, leaning closer. “If I don’t deserve a kiss from my boyfriend, I guess you don’t deserve the present I made for you.”

A black eyebrow raises. “You have a gift for me? Isn’t it my place to get you a gift before your critical night?”

“Yes, and I’m fully expecting whatever incredibly thoughtful gift you’ve managed to hide from me up until this point. Because I know you got me something to commemorate this day.” Turning, you move to your backpack, shuffling through it. “But I made this in Wood Shop. Just to clear my head before tonight.” 

Pulling the wrapped object out of your bag, you hand it to him, beaming proudly at him. Gently, he takes it from you, immediately trying to guess what it was from the weight and size of the box. 

“I’ve been trying woodcarving more often than actual carpentry.” You explain as his pianist fingers unwrap the present. “I wanted you to have my first successful product.”

God, he was almost disgusted at how bright his heart was glowing, how much lighter it became at your words. Swallowing, he pulled a nearly black object out of the decorative box, his lips parting at the sight. 

A carved rose laid elegantly between his fingers. The detail was impeccable, the petals imitating something delicate even if it was created from something so solid. The flower was heavy in his grasp, but with its weight came an accurate beauty. He hadn’t really studied the skill it would take to create something like this, but he planned to do some extensive research when he was able. 

Still, he knew it took an intense study on angles, and an assured hand to make cuts in the right places. Kyoya also realized the time, the focus, and the determination that someone must have to make something as perfect as this. To see an image in the wood and reveal it to the world. 

The Ootori son gently began to put the rose back into the box. 

Your lip worried between your teeth. “It’s made out of Gaboon ebony, which is the darkest wood available in nature. I know you have a very specific color scheme for your spaces, so I thought that would fit perfectly as a desk decoration.”

Kyoya met your gaze, placing the lid on the giftbox.

Shrugging, you shifted, wondering why a man of many words had gone silent. “And I don’t know why, but I thought a rose would be a good image. It’s romantic, sure, but…I don’t know, they have a grace to them that matches yours. In my eyes, at least.” You say.

A finger pushes up his lens as he steps towards you, placing the box slowly onto the same spare table you had set your book. 

His cologne washes over you as he does, and you swallow. “Do you not like it? I could make you something else, maybe something a little sharper. A rose might’ve been too feminine–”

Your doubt is halted as Kyoya surges forward, both of his skilled hands framing your face as he pulls your mouth to his. Surprise sounds against where your lips meet before it dissolves into a wanting breath, tilting your head a little more to absorb as much of his spontaneity as you can. 

It’s a closed kiss, but you both fit together like a puzzle piece, and you feel every unspoken emotion between you as he holds you to him, your own arms slipping to his waist. 

When he breaks apart, you’re blushing deeply, eyes scattering to see if anyone saw the public display of affection, but the crowd was too busy with their own conversations of boosting morale and good luck.

You came back to the moment, taking a breath as you clasp your hands behind his back. “What was that for?” 

His own voice was breathless, but the dazed look in his eyes sharpened, and his kissed lips smirked back at you. “You earned it.” 

And even if your many talents and expositions busied his schedule, the smile that grew on your face and the way he had to gently shove you away before you stole another kiss made it worth it. 

.oOo.

Hikaru’s Reader:

Kickboxing

Nail Tech

Sewing

“I’m gonna kill ‘em.” 

“No, baby. You can’t do that.” 

“No, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill ‘em.” 

You sigh, holding a piece of gauze to your right cheek, and your other hand holds an ice pack to the back of your head. The swelling hadn’t gone down, so the skin was plump and red as you watched Hikaru pace the empty locker room. He ran his hands through his ginger locks, pivoting on his heel as he fumes. 

Your costume fluttered around you. Since you made your own regalia, you had gone with a gold look this time. A spandex material grabbed against your muscled, shining in the metallic color, with stylish cut outs where you felt really emphasized your figure. Your hair had subtle gold streaks through it, but you were most proud of the cape you had draped over your shoulders. 

It was embellished with a gold trim and heavy velvet fabric, something you wore before you entered the ring. It was luxurious, elegant, and it matched the same color in Hikaru’s eyes, already making you love it even more. 

Hikaru made sure to find a pair of boxing gloves that matched, and he even offered to do your makeup before your match. He swiped gold eyeshadow over your (e/c) pools, and yellow gems traced under your waterline. 

He had pretended to not be able to look at you, saying that you shine too brightly and he couldn’t stand your beauty any more. 

Now, with these scratches and minor swellings, he wouldn’t look at you. Not in your sparkling eyes, at least. Only at the scratches. 

“Hikaru. Kyoya would kill you if you murdered someone. You’d have to go to prison, leaving him down one Brotherly Love package.”

He puts his hands on his hips, pulling his lips between his teeth. “No, I don’t care. Kaoru will figure something out.”

He pauses when the referee of your most recent kickboxing match walks through the door. The ref clicks the door behind him, making eye contact with you as he makes his way towards you, the actual competitor. 

But someone else wanted to step into the ring. A blur of orange stepped into the ref’s path, ginger clashing with black and white. “You’re gonna do something about that, right?”

The ref sighed, putting his hands up in a surrender move. “Sir, there isn’t much we can do–”

“No, shut up. You’re gonna fucking do something, right?” Hikaru gestures wildly, his eyes wild as he gets into the referee’s space. His arms direct over to you, his golden eyes scanning over your injuries for the millionth time. “Look at the love of my life. Look at them. I mean, something has to be illegal here, right? Those hits, they weren’t–, I mean, they were unconscious and they kept going!”

“Hikaru, please.” You say, bringing the gauze to another cut right above your eyebrow, chuckling a little bit. “Let the man speak. Maybe to the actual competitor. ”

Huffing, Hikaru turns to you, eyes fierce. But that fire melts into a warm sunlight as he realizes the fact that your hands are full trying to stop the bleeding and the swelling on your own. Exasperated, it takes two strides for him to be by your side.

“What’re you doing? Trying to do this yourself…” He criticizes, but you know there isn’t any fire behind it. Taking the ice pack, he grumbles, glaring daggers at the referee that moves to sit across one of the benches in the locker room. Hikaru holds the ice pack to your face, his other hand rubbing up and down your back softly. 

The ref’s eyes look over the pair of you, sighing deeply. You rolled your eyes as the referee shuffled on the bench, looking guiltier by the second. 

“I know I should’ve stopped them.” He admitted. “I hadn’t realized you were down for the count.”

You shift the gauze against your cheek. “Just be glad it didn’t result in anything more than a few scratches. But you should’ve been paying attention.”

Hikaru opens his mouth, but you shake your head. The referee nodded his head before hanging it. 

“I know.” He spoke, clasping his hands in front of him. “You are usually such a good competitor, (Y/n), I thought you were going to get back up.”

Hikaru scoffed. “Are you pinning this on them?” He growled as he gripped the ice pack tighter. “That they should’ve been a better fighter so they didn’t get K.O.’d?”

“Hikaru–” You warn, but your boyfriend was nothing if he wasn’t stubborn, his fierceness burning under the surface. 

“Of course not!” The referee stuttered. “I was only trying to explain–”

“Yeah, well, all I hear are excuses.” Hikaru bites, the arm on your back becoming tighter around your shoulders. “Get your boss in here. I want to speak to them.”

The man across from you gulped. “Are we sure that’s necessary?”

The Hitachiian twin’s teeth must’ve been razor sharp the way he barred them at the ref. “One hundred percent. I have no idea how ref’s like you get hired anyway, but I want to see who was dumb enough to actually sign the paper.”

“Baby, that’s enough.” You were scowling, but on the inside you couldn’t help but laugh at the way the ref’s face morphed from horror to the acceptance of his fate. 

“Of course, sir.” Sighing, the referee offers one last apology before scratching the back of his head, the locker room door swinging behind his exeunt. 

Hikaru was still muttering to himself as he brushed your hair out of your face, the strands wet with the sweat on your forehead. “Fucking people, don’t know how to do their jobs…”

“Hikaru…” Your voice is gentle as you pull the ice pack and gauze away from your face, your attractive features finally looking a little more normal. Your hand frames his cheek, and the anger in his eyes completely goes away. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I know that.” He frowns, the rasp in his voice carrying a sigh. But you could tell his eyes were still scanning your skin, making sure there weren't any other injuries that he missed. “And you’re tougher than you look.” 

“Exactly.” A proud smirk plays on your lips. 

“Plus,” That smirk that both annoys you and warms you rises to his mouth. “You’ve got a pretty thick skull. I think you could take a few more hits before it becomes a problem.”

Scoffing, you push him away. “I’m gonna hit you if you don’t shut up.” 

“I think I wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh really?” You wrap your arm around him, bringing him closer. “You’re a freak.”

“You’re a tease.” His canines sparkle when he smiles, and it’s all you can do to make the kiss you two share as short as possible. Otherwise, the way he gently cradles your face, or how his lips move against yours would pull you in forever. 

A door swinging open interrupted your bliss anyway, and you two jumped apart. Hikaru groaned softly, a small blush coming onto his scowling cheeks. 

A woman in a fine pressed suit walked across the tile, her heels echoing within the locker room. You recognized her as the manager of the ring in which you’ve had most of your kickboxing matches, and you rose to meet her. 

“(Y/n).” 

Clutching her hand, you shake it gently, aware of your sore shoulder. “Nice to see you again.” 

Hikaru just folds his arms in the background, standing at your side. The manager gives a sidelong glance before giving you a business smile. 

“I wanted to personally apologize for the oversight our referee had during your match tonight.” She says, her lip gloss catching the fluorescent lights above. “You are one of our most beloved fighters, the audience loves you and your unique costumes and looks.”

In her handshake, the manager felt the smooth texture on your fingernails, and turned your hand over in hers. “Your vibrant, fearless creativity inspires many people in our kickboxing world, even if you are a little unorthodox.”

Your nails are painted with a metallic background, and when she presses your fingernails together, they create a picture of an intricate, swirling gold dragon across your nail beds. It was beautiful, it was detailed, and it had been incredibly time consuming. 

You kept your nails short, and the art was absolutely covered by your kickboxing gloves, but it made you feel powerful knowing that you creation was there, even if you were the one of two who knew it. 

The manager's dark eyes slid to your boyfriend who had crossed his arms, still glaring daggers at the lady. She just smiled, her gaze dropping to where his hands were visible in the crevice of his elbow. 

“And it seems you have a supportive partner, as well.” She comments, causing both of your eyebrows to crease before you realize what she is talking about. Hikaru flared out his own hands, and how you had done a small but still detailed nail piece on his own hands. His fingers matched yours in color and style, but instead of having the dragon across all five of his fingers, there was a baby one swirling on his thumbs and ring fingers. 

He huffs, a smirk coming to his lips as he looks at your art for the millionth time today. “Yeah, they’re pretty incredible.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” The manager nods, a sweet smile on her lips. “Both in the ring and out of it, you are definitely a prize. Which is why we’d like to give you one.”

“You want to give me a prize?” You ask, a little surprise leaking into your voice. “For losing?”

The manager hums. “More for winning over the crowd, or for keeping this little instance between us. No one was seriously injured, and–”

“How about I give you the same bruises that competitor gave my partner, and then we’ll see what you think counts as ‘seriously injured’.” Hikaru growls, cracking his knuckles. He steps forward, but you stop him with your arm. 

“Threatening them won’t do anything.” You sigh, but your mouth turns into a scowl. “But I’m not taking your ‘hush’ money.” 

“Well,” The manager scoffs, her calm facade cracking slightly. “We must do something. If you are to continue to fight here, then all of us have to–”

“They aren’t gonna fight here anymore, then.” Hikaru’s voice cuts through the manager’s pompous assumptions, and he grabs your hand, gently moving you around her straight posture. 

Her heels clack as she follows you in earnest. “Wait, you can’t speak for them.”

But as you follow behind your boyfriend, a man who is angry for your safety and your honor, you spin around, smirking through your scratches as you give them the middle finger. “You’re right, he can’t. But, even if it’s rare, he’s right. I’m out of here.”

Her slick ponytail is fraying. “But, you can’t! You have a contract!”

Hikaru mirrors your actions, and now you both are flipping her off as you back out of the locker room, your glorious cape draped across his arm. 

“I’ll pay whatever it takes to break ‘em out of it,” He says, his smirk growing. “And for you to leave them alone.”

Then, you both do a lazy salute as you finally step out of that locker room, out of that situation. 

Laughing, Hikaru stops his walking, causing you to stumble into him. He catches you, and you both break out into a fit, holding onto each other as you walk to his car. 

Easily, he presses you up against the passenger side, using a finger to push a piece of gold-painted hair back into place. His other hand comes to gently cup the other side of your face, his thumb lightly tracing a scratch on your cheekbone. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” He says, his scratchy voice vibrating into the setting sky. “Gotta get you bandaged up, baby.” 

.oOo.

Kaoru’s Reader:

Sketching

Baseball

Writing

“You know,” Kaoru said, pins between his teeth as he took them out of the bodice of your outfit one by one. “Everytime we do this, I still get distracted by you. Everytime.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes even as a blush comes to your cheeks. “You’re an even worse flirt than Tamaki.”

A groan sounds behind you as you feel hands pry the bodice off of your torso. “Don’t talk about the Boss when I am literally undressing you.”

Cool, conditioned air rushes across your newly bare skin as Kaoru throws the garment across the car seat, the leather sticking to your back as you lean into it. Arching your hips, you tug the bottom of your dress pants off, making sure the divider was up between you and your boyfriend’s family driver. 

“You sure he can’t see us?” You ask, wiggling out of your underwear. 

Kaoru sets the pins into his cushion, smiling. “Per usual, no.” Then the redhead turns, his smirk revealing a sharp canine. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing?”

“Kaoru!” 

He cackles, but he can’t help his eyes when they drag over your bare form. Yes, changing clothes in his car was a normal thing due to your busy schedule with your many hobbies, but he never got tired of having you naked in his backseat. 

He tsks. “Are you sure we don’t have time to–”

The pants you had been wearing flew into his face. “No!” You sounded a laugh as he pulled the garment off his head, and you chuckled at the way his red hair fluffed when he did. 

His pale hand reaches down and grabs the duffel bag, packing the black tie outfit you wore to your art show into it and pulling out your team uniform. You pulled on the right undergarments that would support you sliding across the dirt in a baseball diamond, and caught your jersey when Kaoru threw it at you from across the car seat. 

“Going from riches to rags.” He says, arranging your cleats next to you with the appropriate socks. 

“You literally made these uniforms, babe.” You say, deadpanning as you squeeze yourself into the form-fitting bottoms. 

“I know that.” He says, eyeing the way your toned body fills the sporty look nicely. “But I much prefer the elegant attire that I pinned you into earlier.” 

“Oh, I forgot to mention.” You add, distracted as you put the baseball cap on your head, your team logo facing out towards the front seat. “Everyone loved what I was wearing.”

His lips quirked to one side. “Well, duh.”

“Expectedly so.” You tighten your belt around your waist. “But this afternoon’s outfit was…well it was just really spectacular.” Your smile reflects against the city lights. 

Now dressed in the full baseball regalia, you lean over to your own personal fashionista, putting a finger under his chin. 

“I’m really lucky to have Japan’s second best fashion designer as my quick-change roadie.” 

Any sweetness in Kaoru's eyes vanishes, and a second after your lips are a breath away, he is pushing you to the other end of the backseat. “Oh yeah? Then someone else can get you dressed for your book reading tomorrow.” 

You gasp. “Oh no. Whatever will I do without the expert way you zip a zipper?” 

The Hitachiuan twin feigned offense. “That’s what I majored in.” 

“And what about your knowledge on what colors I look best in? I’ll be so washed out.” 

He crosses his arms, still looking at you with a smug simper. “You’ll just have to figure it out.” 

Shrugging, you cross your legs, your cleats knocking against each other. “I guess I’ll just have to find someone else to undress me in the backseat of their family’s car.” 

A hum sounds to the other side of you, like honey being poured into tea. “Now that’s something I know no one can do better than I can.” 

Two manicured hands are suddenly around your waist, and you are dragged across leather. The soft material of your pants are seated into Kaoru’s lap, while, like instinct, your arms wrap around his neck. 

“I think we can finally agree on something.” You concede, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. The city rushes by outside of the limo’s glass, but time stands still when your lips touch. A pleased sound resonates in the back of his throat when you nip at his bottom lip, and you feel him smile into the kiss.  

Pulling away, you share another longing moment before you groan, your head resting into the crook of his neck. 

“Are you sure the art show went well?” You ask, hiding your insecurity as you bury your nose into Kaoru’s cologne. 

Chuckling, you feel his hands casually lock around your hip. His cheek comes to rest on the top of your head, the two of you squished to one side of the seat. “I’m sure. You’re talented, you know that.”

“I do, but I’ve just been so distracted with everything that I have going on.” You can hear his pulse inside his throat, encouraging you to open up a little more. “I balance so much that it feels hard to put 100 percent of my effort into everything I do. I feel like I’m half-assing it.”

“(Y/n), babe.” He brings your face away so that you can look at him clearly. The driver makes a right turn, the force pushing the two of you closer together. “Sketching, sports, writing. All of these things are your life. You’re allowed to put your energy into multiple outlets at once, as long as it’s not draining you.” 

“I don’t think it is.” And he knew that. He knew that even if you seemed tired after a hard day in the studio, or maybe a tough day at practice, the smile on your face was genuine. You always put everything you had into everything you did, and that was just one of the things he adored about you. 

“My partner is an all star, author, and an artist.” Kaoru says, a proud glint in his golden eyes. “And you know what? Because of that, I’m never bored.” 

“Thank god for that. It ceases your regularly-scheduled destruction.” You say, a finger twirling into his ginger strands. “Although Hikaru probably misses his partner in crime.” 

Kaoru just shrugs. “Hikaru has always been able to create his own chaos, he’ll be fine.” 

“So, if you have this much confidence in me, then you must think my first book reading tomorrow is going to go well too, right?” 

“I couldn’t be more sure. I was able to read the whole thing, and I don’t think I’ve been able to finish a fiction book in my life.” The twin admits, and you smirk. 

“Well, that’s obvious.” 

His golden irises roll. “Very funny.” 

“Then, what about this game?” You ask, looking out the window to see the baseball stadium peek out from the horizon. You still had a ways to go. “Think I’m gonna win?”

There was silence. You got lost in the city’s sparkling skyline a little longer before your gaze snapped down to your boyfriend’s, just to see him avoiding your gaze. 

“Kaoru?” 

“Huh? What?” He says, and he runs a hand over your jawline. “Wow, babe, you’re so beautiful.” 

Scoffing, you lean away from him. “You don’t think we’re gonna win?” 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“Kaoru, you only have so many thoughts that can fit into the pea-sized brain of yours.” You say, laughing. “You should not be wasting that space doubting me.”

“I will never doubt you.” He says, grabbing your hand that began to poke at his forehead to see if you could hear an echo. 

“I will, however,” the Hitachiian brother raises your hand to his lips, “realize that while you are immensely talented, baseball is a team effort.”

You give him a blank look. “And my team sucks.” 

He kisses your hand. “They suck so bad.” 

And you're laughing. A few seconds ago, you were drowning into your anxiety, but Kaoru made you feel light enough to float above them all. Balancing multiple things at once was hard work, but having a man like him at your side made it easier. 

Your laughter dies down, and there’s an extra spark in Kaoru’s eye that paired well with the city lights reflected in his pupils. 

You hit his chest, even as he snakes kisses up your shoulder and onto your neck. “Kaoru, we can’t.” 

“The stadium is still a ways away. We have time.” 

Your skin tingles under his touch, and you sigh. “Kaoru…” You weakly try to push him away, but he holds onto your hips. 

“(Y/n)…” 

Huffing out a breath, you take off your baseball cap so you can properly kiss him without it bumping into Kaoru’s forehead. “Fine, but we have to be quick.” 

His laughter rings out as he pulls you into his chest, and you are already second-guessing his intentions on making it quick as he draws his tongue slowly up your throat. 

It’s a good thing the divider was up. 

.oOo.

Mori’s Reader

Fencing

Yoga

Poetry

Swords clashed, the metal twinge sounding against the Hinoki cypress that covered the dojo’s walls. And each time you and your opponents’ swords would cross, your heart would pound in sync, both beats echoing with your efforts. 

Thirteen touches. Your opponent had scored thirteen touches against you within this bout, and you were determined to not let him get the last two he needed to win. Lunging, your sabre jabs across the piste with a grunt from your lips, only to have it wacked away immediately by your competitor. 

You clench your jaw as you ward off one of his own jabs, trying to see through the mesh of your fencing mask. The long torso of the man across from you twists, leaning to the right. But once you move to block it, he swerves, turning to the left and touching you in the ribs. 

Huffing, you rip off your mask, your hair fluffing out once freed of the hard shell. “You’re kidding me.” 

Mori easily slides off his own helmet, letting the smug grin on his face widen at the sight of your exasperation. His black hair fell slightly in front of his face before he pushed it out of the way, a few drops of sweat beginning to bead on the edge of his jawline. 

Grumbling, you point your saber half-heartedly at him. “I’ve been fencing my whole life and you only started a couple months ago. How are you so good at this?”

He shrugged his shoulders in a way that was so irritatingly handsome, you had to force your head back into your mask. 

“Again.” You demand. 

With one hand, Mori effortlessly readjusts his own gear, and you both fall back into a fighting stance. 

Your boyfriend had always been good at things without ever trying too hard. It seems he had an eerily accurate way of breaking any sport, art form, or hobby down to its basics, and extorting it in front of his opponents. Easily, he analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of any obstacle he was put up against, and bent them to his advantage. 

He was smart, analytical, and having way too much fun watching you become frustrated as he brought you both to match point. You could tell by the way he stood, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet to keep himself agile, his martial arts training coming in handy. He held his sword out with one arm, and the other bent at his back, but his shoulders were dropped low, a casual stance as he became more confident in his victory. 

Growling, you lunged first, starting your combat again. You were aggressive, and you took pleasure in seeing his shoulders rise as he took a defensive position against your attacks. Arms burning, you swiped and slashed at his white suit, all of your fencing training becoming honed into this very moment. You were sure a soundtrack could be made to emphasize the way you moved forward, forcing him to step back and block any chaotic jabs and swipes that you threw his way. 

You heard him gasp as his foot dropped off the piste, and his tall body tripped, falling backwards as you stood over him, the vertex of your sabre denting the clothing on his chest. 

His chest heaved with the effort, and you crouched, once again pulling off your headwear. “That’s more like it.”

You pulled off his mask as well, this time leaving the thick strands that fell into his brown eyes. His confident smirk had been replaced with a slight scowl. Stepping in between his legs, you met his eye level. 

“Fourteen to fourteen.” You bragged, letting your sword rest on your shoulder. “Now, we’re tied. Again.” 

A displeased grunt came from the stoic's mouth. 

“This little competition of ours has been fun.” You say, molding your voice to sound bored as you exhale, standing up and putting out a hand for him. “But it looks like I will emerge victorious.”

Your boyfriend’s visage fell blank, and he rolled his eyes before grabbing your hand and lifting himself up, towering over you as he folds his arms around your waist. 

Bending like a branch in the wind, Mori tightens his hold as he presses you into his chest. One of his hands came to cup your face, forcing your gaze to focus on the small beads of sweat dancing across his skin. “We’ll see.”

Then he kisses your cheek, turns you around, and pushes you back to your end of the piste. Refusing to wipe the smirk off your face, you reset, readying your sabre with new confidence. 

This time, you both take the offensive, aggressively sparring as your blades crash together in hurried movements. He blocks your jabs, and you leap over his attempts to sweep you off your feet, ignoring the legality of your movements. Sweat begins to gleam on your forehead under your mask, but your smile only grows. 

As he takes another step to jab at your shoulder, you lean to the side, effectively dodging his attack to see that he has left himself wide open. Victory fuels your heartbeat as you lunge, even going as far as letting out a confident hah! as you aim the point towards the side of his ribcage. 

Suddenly, Mori turned on his heel. With incredible speed, he swipes your sabre away as if he knew exactly where it was going to strike. He grunts as he pushes you back, both you and your sabre stumbling to the floor with his strength, and all you can do is sit there empty-handed as he juts the end of his sword right above your heart. 

Huffing, you fall, letting your back hit the piste with a disgruntled groan. You hear a dark chuckle as steps move towards your fallen body.

“That’s fifteen.” Mori confirms as he stands over you, his already-tall form looking enormous from your position on the ground. 

“Yes, I can count, thank you.” You grumble, ripping off your mask for the last time. 

He puts pressure on the point where his own sword pinpoints your skin, your heart fluttering for different reasons when he reveals his face. Flushed, disheveled, and confident in his win. 

The way his lips slightly lifted on either side, the way his dark chocolate eyes glimmered over your exhausted form. You wanted to kiss that smug look off his face. 

But you wanted to win more. 

Batting the sword away, he reaches out a hand to help you up, pulling you to your feet. The Ouran Highschool Gym bustles with students. Some engage in kendo matches that Mori observes silently, most likely learning from other’s mistakes. 

Picking your sabre up from the aftermath of your loss, you gently raise the end under his chin, quirking an eyebrow as he tenses and focuses his gaze back on you. 

“Your opponent is in front of you, Takashi. Shouldn’t you be paying attention?”

His gaze melted into something smooth and dark. “The game is over.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of his victory. 

“Far from it.” The end of your blade dips gently into his skin for a second before you flick it away, nudging his chin softly. Turning from him, you call over your shoulder. “On to the next event!” 

After changing out of your fencing attire, you’re sat across from him, a(n) (f/c) yoga mat splayed out below you as he sits atop a dark blue one. Given the charged looks he gave you before you entered a dressing room, you knew that it was game on. Both of your competitive spirits had been stoked, and you only had more motivation to kick that – admittedly very nice – ass of his. 

Taking a deep breath, you let the air in the gym still around you. Yoga was another one of your hobbies that you enjoyed because it gave you a chance to center yourself in the midst of chaos a certain club instilled within your life. You had picked it up when you started high school, and even your teacher said you were a natural, as you were able to really embody the purpose and true zen of yoga. 

Flicking your eyes towards your boyfriend, you find that he is already looking back at you, patiently waiting for your instructions on the next round of your spontaneous competition. His eyes are warm, the smallest of smiles on his lips as they track your figure, watching as you find peace in your posture. 

Shaking your head affectionately, you rock on your hips, nudging him gently with your arm. “Stop staring and listen up. I’m gonna choose a pose, and whoever holds it the longest wins.” 

Mori gives you a suspicious, playful glare. “But you’ll choose something that you’re good at. That I can’t hold.” 

You smile, sickeningly sweet, and Mori rolls his eyes. “Fine.” 

“Great!” Your grin only grows as you call out the position: Vrschikasana, or the Scorpion. Mori’s eyes flash in recognition, remembering the weeks you spent perfecting it while he trained in his dojo, and the knots he had to massage out of you afterwards. 

You narrow your eyes, planting your palms on your mat. “Unless you want to give up?”

His dark gaze hardened before something fierce ignited in his visage. “No. It’s fine.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the gym’s expensive walls – honestly, it really over the top for a physical center. Shifting your weight onto your hands, Mori follows your movements as you both lift into a handstand before arching your back, pointing your toes as they bend to touch the top of your head. 

God, you loved the burn through your hamstrings, the strength of your muscles holding yourself up, seemingly weightless off the ground. You sucked in a breath, allowing your lungs to open up, your throat to loosen, and let yourself just breathe. 

“You’re smiling.” A strangled voice drenched in disbelief observes next you, and you turn your head carefully so as to not knock your balance. 

The chuckle that runs through you nearly does, though. 

You catch yourself as you watch Mori’s arms start to shake, his breathing a little haphazard as he puts as much effort into the stretch as he can. You also watch as his muscles flex, his shirt discarded in order to cool off from your fencing tournament, eyes traveling as the lines flinch and twitch with the commitment to keep himself off the ground.  

Mori was a strong guy. Defined, agile, and built with pounds of lean muscle. But yoga took a different kind of strength. It was a test of endurance and balance, a mental strength that knew no limits. 

There was a reason you and Mori worked so well together. 

About ten seconds from your record time holding this position, Mori topples, his legs falling over his head as he somersaults, landing with his back flat against the mat. 

You chuckle, half concerned for his health from the fall, half gloating for your win. Easily coming back down to the ground, your breath heaves a little as you try to catch your breath. 

“You okay, Takashi?” You ask, it being your turn to stand over him, smirking in victory.

He just grunts, giving you a bored look. 

“Crybaby.” You say, sitting next to him. 

“Show off.” He retorts, warmth in his eyes. 

You laugh again, the rare insult leaving the exhausted stoic’s mouth. “Wanna do one more round?”

Mori’s eyes search yours for a second before nodding. “But I get to pick.”

“Sure, that seems fair.” You say, peeling back the hair on his forehead. “Go for it.”

He gets that thoughtful look in is gaze, a glint that taught you to wait patiently by his side in silence until he was comfortable to speak. 

“Poetry.”

A surprised scoff left your mouth before you could stop it. Quickly, you cover your mouth, shaking your head. “Sorry, sorry. It just…that’s not a test of strength.” You say, laughing a little. As much as you loved poetry, reading and writing it, it seemed a little out of left field. 

Mori shrugged his shoulders, still laid out on the floor. “Emotional strength.” He said, smart eyes smiling up at you softly.

And how could you argue with that? 

Ten minutes later, sweatpants and pump covers are thrown back on your bodies as you both sit in a small corner of the gym, legs tangled as you lean against opposing walls. Notebooks in hand, your pens fly across the page, the scribbling sounds comforting as you each get lost in your own thoughts. 

When it comes time to present, you go first. When Mori realizes you wrote yours about him, about how strong he was, and how safe he made you feel, it makes his tired, sore body slump against his side of the wall. His hand reaches out for yours, listening intently to your words. 

His poem had a smaller word count, but the vocabulary was moving, and you laughed gently when you realized he wrote his about you. About how strong you were, and how safe you made him feel. And he held your hand the entire time he read it to you.

Let’s just say your game ended in a tie.

.oOo.

not proofread, but i enjoyed writing it!

hope you all have a great day. just give me some time to get back into the groove of things. writing is my escape, and i truly do love it. just need to find the energy :) love you <3

[mysadcorner]

Hi! I love your Jason Todd stuff and idk if you write stuff like this, but I was wondering how you think Jason would react to his s.o safe wording for the first time?

If you don't do things like this that's completely fine and I'm sorry about asking.

Jason Todd x Reader Using The Safe Word Headcanons

————————————————————————

-Credit to the images owners - Please be specific about characters wanted in requests -

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• When you first use the safe word while being intimate with Jason he’ll absolutely freak out. The last thing he would ever willing do would be to hurt you, so the thought of you having to ask him to stop because he’s going ti far will cause him a lot of distress on top of your own.

• If the two of you were engaged in something on the “hardcore” side of intimacy then he’s be a mess, begging for forgiveness as he stops what he’s doing and checking up on you. He’ll assess the damage and try to soothe you both emotionally and physically since he clearly wasn’t ensuring you were fine enough during the act.

• If you said the safe word simply because you were overwhelmed, not that Jason was doing anything which resulted in you being hurt, then he’d try his best to ease you out of you discomfort and bring you back to a stable condition. He’s also going to soothe you when this happens and try his best to calm you down from whatever limit he pushed you too far over.

• He’d sure you’re cleaned up so that you can settle down easier and get rid of the discomfort you may be feeling in that moment. It’s easier for him to get you wrapped up in bed and get you back to feeling alright again if you’re not sitting covered in sweat and other things that occurred during intimacy.

• Afterwards, Jason would make sure that you were comfortable and feeling able to lie in bed properly while he checks over you. He’d bring you food and drinks, and massage any places that ache, as well as checking in on you emotionally to make sure he hadn’t caused a negative impact on your relationship with him or made you feel like you can’t be comfortable around him again.

• He’d ask you to open up to him and talk about what had just happened and why it may have been too much for you, but only once you feel like you’re ready to. He needs to know how he overstepped so that he never makes that same mistake again, and communication is something Jason hugely values for a healthy and understanding relationship. No matter how big or small the problem was, he’ll take whatever you say on board.

• He may be slightly hesitant to be intimate again with you for a little while due to feeling like he made you overwhelmed or hurt you and feels ashamed about it, even though he never meant too push you too far. You may need to reassure him and talk to him about what happened a few times before he starts engaging in that way, but it will still take him a little while to get back into rougher or kinkier kinds of things with you again.

• After you use the safe word for the first time, Jason will be checking in on you a lot more and asking for verbal input regarding everything he’s doing towards you while being intimate. He already dod this before, but after pushing you too far he feels a lot more comfortable knowing how you’re feeling at all times so it’s much less likely of happening again.

[sharkorok]

yeonjun w/ an inexperienced s.o

a/n: yooo the legendary yeonjun pic :P, anyways i decided to just follow the oldest member pattern I hope that’s ok anonnie :>

requested: yes!! thank uuu

tw/genre: cursing, fluff, campus au ig(?), fboi yeonjun kinda not really, insecurities so like minimal angst I suppose, tell me if I missed anything :]

•-•-•-•-•-•

-ok so yeonjun. practically everyone has had a crush on him at least two times in their life

-you’ve heard of his charms and smooth-talking and thanked god every day he’s never talked to you because PHEW you had no idea how to respond to that holy moly

-ok once again we are at a party and yeonjun sees you and thinks ur super duper pretty and he’s like “omg isn’t that the person who made someone cry because they responded to ‘i love you’ w thanks?”

-and that only happened because you didn’t know to respond with “i love you too” or “aww thanks” so whateves but you’re pretty notorious for being clumsy with relationships and avoiding getting into them

-so he walks up to you and is like “hey” w rizz and he finds your awkwardness both endearing and refreshing

-the crowd he hangs around with are familiar with sucking up to people or being charming, being automatically magnetic, and in the nicest way possible you weren’t really like that

-but you two become friends and date congrats

-he thinks you’re the cutest ever like genuinely

-maybe it’s the virgo in him but he likes teaching you things or at least helping you through them

-like your first proper kiss or make out or whatever, he walks you through it without making it awkward or patronizing and you appreciate that

-he’s very open about your relationship, he wants you to know he doesn’t care if anyone has nasty opinions on the two of you, he’s proud to show you off

-lowk tho i do feel like he gets insecure if you don’t express your love or affection for him but he also understands so he’s super conflicted and aghhh

-but then ur friend is like “what about gift giving or expressing love in your own way?” and ur like “omg ur so right?”

-and so everyday you write sticky notes or little letters reminding him of all the reasons why you love him, or you do tiny acts and you explain “until I get more comfortable I want to show you I love you in my own way” and he cries

-like he actually cries it was kinda awkward but sweet at the same time, he really appreciates you making an effort for him

-so after that he really cherishes ur little expressions of love :) and then gets pissed if anyone says u don’t treat him right

-because nuh uh yes u do, in ur own way

-likes to fluster you on purpose though, thinks you look cutest when you’re flustered and confused

-he won’t make fun of you but he’ll tease you for sure (if ur ok with it), but he always somehow compliments you too??

-“how can someone as gorgeous as you be so inexperienced with relationships?” and ur not sure whether you feel called out or flattered

-takes you on lots and lots of dates so you can experience what it’s like having a nice boyfriend who’s good to you! he’ll make sure this relationship will be the standard and more for any future partners u have.

-(not like you’ll have anyone else you’re too in love w him)

-never misses a beat with you, because he’s so good at conversation and being a flirt it doesn’t matter if you can’t reciprocate cuz he’ll just carry the convo lol

-“uhhh thanks for the flowers yeonjun :]” i love u too.” “yo whaaaat” and he just winks and kisses ur cheek

-what a weird couple, anyways

-he likes to push you a little bit, not really for your relationship but because it’s amusing

-like if you want physical affection but feel too shy to ask for it he’ll play dumb until you get all pouty and sulky

-“please give me a kiss oh my god jun” “shshsh I’m sorry I was joking!!”

-one time at a party this girl was hardcore flirting with yeonjun and talking about how she LOVESSS pda and how she’s SOOO EXPERIENCED and how she knows how to treat a man and she’s doing this all in front of you, rlly testing your patience

-yeonjun just rolls his eyes and squeezes your hand that’s loosely being held in his, but before he knows it you dragged him by the collar to give him a kiss

-if love isn’t ur fuel for confidence, jealousy and spite sure is

-“good thing I have a partner who treats me perfectly,” yeonjun says after you do your little smooch n she’s so pissed ur giggling

-yeonjun always is like “You don’t have to,” or “take your time,” and “only if you want to, ok?”

-so you don’t have to worry about meeting his expectations, the only way to disappoint is if you don’t feel comfortable enough setting boundaries and then he’s disappointed in the both of you

-makes u feel like the safest ever but also so flustered and giddy

-ok bye I’m devastated why r u so cute in these

[itsimaginetime]

S.o being bratty to yunho and show a little of her dom side by riding him 😩😩

Enjoy the ride

⚠Warnings⚠: Dom turned Sub!Yunho, BrattySub turned Domme!FemReader , Y/n is obsessed with Cosmopolitan!Yunho (such a mood) , they're both switches but they're just figuring that out now , Y/n loves pinning Yunho against things (again , mood) , dick riding, Y/n is a natural Domme , Yunho is the most obedient baby boy ever , Yunho submissive and breedable supremacy.

❗EVERYTHING IN THIS IMAGINE AND ALL IMAGINES I WRITE IS CONSENTUAL AND FICTIONAL , FOR EDUCATIONAL AND ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY❗

Summary📝: It was quite the pleasant surprise when Y/n decided to jump Yunho's bones after the release of the Cosmopolitan x Ateez collab.

Author's Note✏: *screams like a banshee*

Word count📖: 0.9k @itsimaginetime

"Yuyu , baby! What the fuck?!"

"Y/n! Language!" Yunho's giggles can be heard loud and clear in the hallway of Y/n's apartment as he laughed at his girlfriend's astonished expression, her hands holding his as she bounced on the tips of her feet.

"Babe , you can't just have a collab with Cosmopolitan out of all things , look dangerously hot in it and not expect me to lose my shit! My god , Yunho!"

"Oh? You think I looked hot?"

"THOUGHT YOU LOOKED HOT??? YUNHO I-" Y/n stopped herself before she could start rambling. She didn't think he looked hot , she thought he looked so fucking attractive beyond words. The confidence in his entire being, the way he looked at the camera , the way he moved fluidly in that one promotion video. It had her squeezing her thighs together in absolute desperation.

But ... It was a different desperation than usual. @itsimaginetime

She didn't want to be pinned down and fucked senseless. No , that wouldn't satisfy her newly discovered urge.

Those pictures and video clips made him look so... submissive and breedable in her eyes she just wanted to pin him down and-

"Y/n?"

She looked up abruptly. Fuck , she didn't mean to get so lost in thought.

"Baby? You ok? You were zoning-"

He didn't have the chance to finish that sentence as Y/n unexpectedly pinned him against the nearest wall. @itsimaginetime

"I'm gonna show you just how hot I think you are"

"Oh-" Yunho's voiced echoed in the bedroom as Y/n pushed him onto the bed before immediately climbing on top of him.

"Well, aren't you feeling adventurous today?" Yunho smirked up at his girlfriend as she pinned him down to the mattress, planning on flipping her over and taming her bratty wild side.

Not like he'll get the chance to do that.

"Yeah ,you can say that"

With that , just as Yunho was about to flip their positions around, Y/n spoke once more.

"Yuyu~~ , I wanna try something new today"

His curiosity was immediately piqued. Something new...? @itsimaginetime

"And don't get me wrong, I love it when you fuck the attitude out of me..."

Y/n proceeded to grind against Yunho's growing erection, feeling him twitch against her clothed heat.

"But I wanna switch things up a bit... Can we do that , please?"

The pout on Y/n's lips was absolutely irresistible. Fuck , she had him completely at her mercy.

"Of course, puppy. What did you have in mi-"

Y/n leaned down, capturing Yunho's lips in a passionate kiss, grinding against his bulge.

Yunho couldn't help the muffled moan that escaped him. Fuck , why was she so good at taking control? @itsimaginetime

And why did he like it so much?

Slowly, her hands travelled down his body causing goosebumps to rise on his skin.

Grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, she pulled them down with an undeniable lust in her eyes.

"Oh? Going commando? How naughty of you , puppy"

Yunho couldn't believe his ears. Did she just use the nickname he gave her on him? She just called him puppy. And why did it make him so unimaginably horny?

With a sultry smile , she grabbed his rock hard cock , chuckling at the precum running down its length and over her fingers.

"So wet for me , isn't that right Yuyu?"

The tables were fully flipped and Y/n did not hesitate to use Yunho's exact same words and technics against him. @itsimaginetime

Grabbing his dick and without hesitation, Y/n sank herself down with urgency, letting out an obscene moan at the how full she felt.

Yunho's breathy whimper caught both of them off guard, he has never let out such a sound before.

"Fuck , you sound so good , pretty boy"

Another pathetic whimper escaped Yunho involuntarily, he couldn't help it , her words had his breath hitching and his limbs plient under her ministrations.

Y/n's hands traced up Yunho's body , soon reaching his hands and pinning them above his head. @itsimaginetime

"You look so gorgeous like this. Letting me use you as I please"

She leaned down to press a heated kiss on his lips , grinding her hips with lustful abandon.

"Such an obedient puppy"

Yunho squealed as Y/n's lips attached to his neck , sucking hickeys into existence.

Y/n's pace picked up, riding his dick like a woman on a mission.

Well , she is on a mission. @itsimaginetime

A mission to make her man absolutely melt.

"Y-y/n...Fuck , I'm so close..."

"Hmm? Already? Such a desperate pup"

Yunho's pants and moans got louder the closer he got , yet he didn't wanna cum yet...not before asking for permission.

"Baby- ah~ , baby please let me cum"

Y/n felt herself clench at the sweet begging tone that reached her ears.

Damn , he sounds so good when he begs ; she thought.

"How could I ever say no to you , Yuyu? Go ahead, cum whenever you want"

As if commanded , Yunho came immediately, letting out delicious moans of his lover's name. @itsimaginetime

With a cut off moan of her own , Y/n came on Yunho's cock , bouncing a few more times to ride out the orgasm before pulling out and gently laying on top of the man below her, wrapping her arms around him in a loose , loving hug.

Neither of them ever thought they'd enjoy such a dynamic switch but turns out, they couldn't get enough of it.

They are definitely gonna do this more often.

"Next time , I'm riding your face"

Fuck , he couldn't wait. @itsimaginetime

©@itsimaginetime (DO NOT REPOST! DO NOT TRANSLATE!)

This concept really had me malfunctioning ngl-

And for the ones that are interested, my hard / soft thought asks are still open so feel free to share your thoughts with me ☺️💞

[devilmaymetalgear]

Sparda boys with a goth g/n S.O. pls how would they react djdhshsh

dante sparda x reader // vergil sparda x reader

gn reader // hcs with a goth s/o

a/n: just realized I don't have anonymous asks turned on lmao, also, I am working on the step kid request with vergil and Dante, I just tend to write like 5 things at once lmao

ᴅᴀɴᴛᴇ

- thinks it's so cool, he always marveling at your outfits and just overall vibe. Very supportive. Loves how I extra and dramatic it is.

- would def wanna match with you, while he does find your contrasting outfits super fun, he also would love to match with you

- constantly giving you pieces of clothes he 'finds' that he thinks matches. And you have no idea at all where he gets them from. But with his income he probably didn't pay for them

Unrelated but I think Dante would like Lowkey fuck with corpse paint

ᴠᴇʀɢɪʟ

- he's all for flair, I mean look at him, so he definitely approves of your fit. While it wouldn't be something he might wear himself, he admires it from afar. Thinks you're stunning.

- he's constantly analyzing every single piece of clothing you wear, from the craftsmanship to the quality to the intricate detailing.

- he's always eager to listen to you talk about music to literature, uses it as inspo for what he should get into next. That way if you ever happen to ask him if he's familiar with something he can say yes and then pretend like he had no idea you'd asked him about it before

Requests are open, characters listed on my request rules. And anonymous asks have been turned on :3

[spaceorphan18]

The Contessa (Polin Fic)

Rating: E for very explicitness

Summary: Colin returns home one evening to find Penelope reading his journal. She has some inquires about some undocumented time, and he tells the story of the infamous Contessa...

Notes: I've had this idea forever and just needed to get it out of my system. It's one part slice of domestic life, one part porn without plot, all of it full of love and emotions because how can you not with these two? There's a little pregnancy talk as it takes place in the months between the Butterfly ball and the epilogue.

For anyone wanting to read on Ao3 Here is the Link.

Thanks for reading!!

****

The Contessa

It’s evening when Colin arrives back at the house.  He shuffles through the door, flushed a little from the warm, late summer air, a little from the half bottle of brandy he and Benedict had finished off not an hour earlier.  It is still somewhat a foreign sensation -- leaving the family he had spent a happy afternoon with and the house he had grown up in to return to a place where the halls he now walks feels new and unfamiliar.  But it’s not a bad sensation.  In fact, he relishes the fact that he now has a place of his own.  A home.  A home for his own family. 

He grins, and it’s not just the alcohol that makes him a little dizzy. 

“Pen!” He calls out.  They spend a considerable amount of their time together but on days they’re apart, he’ll usually find her at the desk in the study.  Curiously, she’s not there.  “Penelope?” 

“She’s retired for the evening, sir.” Penelope’s hand maid, Rae, passes him in the hallway.  She points back to the bedroom. 

Colin furrows his brow.  His wife has been fatigued more often than not as of late, and it has had him concerned. “Is she well? Perhaps I should have stayed…” 

Rae holds one hand up, and shakes her head with a smile.  “She is fine, sir,” she assures him.  “And doing well for one in her condition. Besides, her mother was with her most of the day.  Nothing to worry about.  She only wanted the comfort of her bed for reading.” 

“Thank you, Rae,” he says, giving a nod to dismiss her.  

He isn’t entirely comforted.  Lady Featherington has been a source of contention recently; wanting to be at Penelope’s side more often than not.  Never in her life, Penelope has complained to him, has her mother shown her so much attention.  Perhaps it has to do with Prudence and Phillipa giving birth to two, sweet little girls that now Lady Featherington’s sights are set on her third daughter to produce the heir she so desperately desires.  And it would give Colin a slight sense of satisfaction if he and Penelope were the ones to bring that heir into being.  But Penelope’s comfort has always come first, and Lady Featherington’s unusual form of mothering is often too much.  He can only hope that she hasn’t pushed Penelope past exasperation.  

Colin is indignant as he enters their bedroom.  He doesn’t care that it’s evening, or that it might be seen as improper, he’ll head straight to the Featherington estate to give his mother-in-law a piece of his mind if he finds she’s been the source of his wife’s discomfort.  His emotions are easily bubbling to the surface but the minute he catches his wife’s reflection in the mirror, they shift from discontent and worry to… something else.  

He pauses, watching Penelope in the mirror.  After a day of being apart, his chest tightens at the sight of her.  She’s sitting, soundly, on her side of the bed, legs curled under her as she reads.  She is already in her pale, pink nightgown; her red curls down and resting gently against her bosom.  Her skin glows softly in the candlelight.  He has wondered that maybe after months of marriage if the deep desire he felt upon looking at her would eventually diminish or change but it has not and instead he has accepted that it will always be a part of him, always simmering in the back of his mind, waiting for an appropriate time to be unleashed. 

Penelope is too engrossed in her reading to look up.  He notes that it’s his journal that she’s reading so intently, a thought that brings a smirk to his lips, and he can’t help but wonder what part of his journeys has her so captivated.  She scratches a note in the margin, then continues reading, the feather of the quill lightly dancing teasingly against her lips.  He watches, mesmerized.  

“I can feel you staring at me,” she says, suddenly.  She doesn’t look up from her reading, taking the moment to jot down another note, but a smile climbs on her lips.  

Colin crosses the room, over to her side, bending down to give her a kiss on top of her head.  “I don’t think it’s a bad thing to stare at one’s wife.  Especially, when that wife is as beautiful as you.” 

He goes to move away, but she pulls him back, looking up at him with that same mix of wonder and slight disbelief she gets whenever he compliments her.  “You are really too much sometimes,” she says, tugging him down for a quick kiss.  “I am ghastly.  Bloated with child.  Sweaty, swollen, and uncomfortable…” 

Concern crosses his face.  “Is there anything I can do?” 

“I think that you have done enough,” she says.  It’s a gentle tease.  Despite any worries he has, she seems in good spirits, tenderly cupping his face as she draws him in for another, quick kiss.  “Mmmm, you’ve spent a considerable amount of time with Benedict tonight.”

It’s the alcohol on his breath.  No denying that.  “He’s a nuisance, really.  Insisting that we celebrate Gregory going off to Eaton with cards and a drink.”  He moves away, sliding into the chair near the bed and begins unlacing his boots.  

“So he coerced you into it?” Penelope asks, her eyes bright with humor.  

“Of course,” he jokes.  He’s only half in jest about Benedict.  Lately, his usually free spirited, energetic older brother has become listless.  Colin is glad, at least, that Anthony is away in India, handing over the household duties, giving Benedict something to do. Otherwise, he worries Benedict would attempt to find his purpose at the bottom of every bottle.  He tells Penelope as much, but leaves out the part that before them, before her , he had felt the same way. 

“I’m sure Benedict will find his own happiness,” Penelope says, as if she can read his thoughts.  “But what of the rest of your family? Is your mother well?  How is Eloise? I feel terrible that we haven’t seen each other much in the past few weeks.  I do miss her.”  

“Mother is good,” he replies. He takes off his jacket, hanging it on the stand next to the dresser.  “Hyacinth sends her regards.  Eloise is… as Eloise always is.  She talked my ear off about some book that she said I must tell you about.  Some horrific novel about a scientist who creates the perfect man only for it to be a disaster.  She called it a literary masterpiece, and claims that you must pick it up when you have the chance.”  

“That sounds thrilling,” Penelope says, delighted.  “Will you be able to pick me up a copy?  Reading might be the only thing I can do soon, and one can never have too many books.” 

“If it is your wish,” Colin replies.  “It does sound like an absurd tale.  But that might be the way Eloise described it.  She’s always had a flair for the dramatic in her commentary.”  

“And that is why we adore her,” Penelope says.  “I think I’ll try to have tea with her at Bridgerton House.  The fresh air would be nice and I would very much like to get out of this house.” 

“But your condition…” 

“Is fine,” she lets out a laugh.  “I am not bedridden yet.  There is plenty I can do…” 

Her eyes remain fixed on him as he undresses.  He enjoys the way her gaze lingers as he casts off his layers, preening a bit as he unbuttons his shirt and discards it onto the chair.  Her eyes are wicked with want, and after a four day disruption due to her not feeling well, maybe they could return to their usual nighttime routine.  

Pen licks her lips as he approaches the bed, but continues with their conversation.  “It’ll have to be Thursday,” she says. “Friday, my mother wants all of us girls and their husbands for a dinner.”

His trousers remain on (for now) and he comes to the bed, flopping down on his back to stare at the ceiling, letting out a protesting groan as he does so.  “Are you sure we need to be there?” 

“You won’t be forced into conversation with my sisters,” Penelope says, reassuringly.  “You can spend time with Mr. Dankworth and Mr. Finch in the drawing room as you always do.  I promise to keep my mother busy so to keep the two of you apart.” 

He grumbles, turning on his side.  In truth, Albion and Harry have grown on him some.  They’re two of the biggest dolts he’s ever known, but they’re kind and amusing and seem to have embraced him as their leader in the secret club reserved for men who adore the Featherington sisters.  It’s charming, really.  And while he much prefers his own brothers, he’s well aware he could do much worse when it comes to brother-in-laws.  

“So, you mother…” he broaches the subject carefully.  Penelope’s relationship with her mother is fragile but mending, and he treads carefully.  “Was she too much for you today?” 

“She’s too much any day,” Penelope says, though her demeanor remains light.  “She just wants what’s best for me.  She did try to force me some horrid, green drink that’s supposed to manifest a boy instead of a girl.  I really doubt it, but even Varley was swearing by it.” 

“I dare say,” Colin says, “as much as I would revel in you having the heir to the Featherington estate, I would be pleased in having a girl, because it would annoy her so.” 

“Colin!” Penelope says, chiding him playfully.  

“Well, it would.” 

She rolls her eyes at him.  “Let’s move on from my mother.  You’re right, I have had too much of her today.  Besides, there’s something else I wish to discuss with you.”  She looks down to his journal, nervously playing with the pages.  

His curiosity is piqued, and he scoots closer, trying to see the page she’s on.  He can’t quite tell what passage she had been reading, and only sees a few words marked on the page here and there.  “What is it?” 

“I have been reading all evening,” she says.  He takes a beat of pride in how fondly she speaks of it.  “Your words are beautiful.  The way you talk about the moonlight shimmering on the Mediterranean sea; the bustle of Paris and Madrid and Rome; the shady, mysteriousness of the forests of Eastern Europe… It’s like I’m really there.  I can feel it.  Only, I’ve never even stepped foot outside of London.”  

He takes her hand, laces it with his own.  “I promise I will take you, someday.  I’ll take you to see the world.  Wherever you want to go.”  He kisses the top of her hand, as if to seal his promise.  

“I would love that,” she says.  She smiles but looks down at the journal.  There’s more she’s not saying.  “There’s something else that I noticed, though.  There are some dates that don’t quite add up.”  

“Oh?” 

She narrows her eyes, as if she’s hesitant about asking.  “Here you write about Rome, but then here,” she flips a few pages forward. “You are in Milan over a week later.  And yet you don’t speak at all of the journey.  Clearly it didn’t take a full week, did it?  What happened in that time that you do not wish to speak about?” 

He takes the journal, scanning it, wanting to refresh his memory, but there had been so much that had happened in such a short time, he could scarcely remember every detail.  

“Is that when you met her ?” Penelope asks.  He gives her an odd look, unsure as to who she is talking about.  “The Contessa.  I have read all of your journals now.  Twice.  And I haven’t read about her at all.” 

Oh .  He bites his lip to refrain from laughing.  Oh, his dear Penelope.  “How do you even know about her?” 

“Lady Whistledown hears everything eventually,” Penelope explains, she tickles his nose with the end of her quill.  “I have heard stories…” 

“Lady Whistledown…” he lets out an exasperated sigh as he takes the quill from her, and places it in the journal.  He snaps it shut.  “There’s not really anything to tell.”  

“You write extensively about your exploits in Paris, in Berlin, in… every city.  And you never mention her.”  She looks at him, unsure.  “Is the reason you don’t write of her… was she your first?” 

“No,” he says easily, reaching over her to place the journal on the nightstand.  “That experience was bought and paid for.  I have told you about that already - Rosalita...” He shudders to think of his first bumbling time.  Awkward and inexperienced and very short.  But at least she had been kind.  

Penelope’s eyes go wide with amusement.  “The Spanish woman! The one you said had the delectable bosom.”  

He grins, admiring her ability to recall such details, then leans in, giving her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth, while he brings his hand up to cup her breast.  “Mmm, you know I can’t resist a delectable bosom.” 

“I will not be distracted so easily,” she says, it’s a playful warning.  “But how is it that you can boast about this Contessa to the entire male population of the ton and, yet, not tell me a single word about her?”  

He grins as he considers.  There is a reason he’s never shared this with her… And despite whatever she may have heard as Lady Whistledown, no one knows the actual story.  “Okay…” 

“Okay?” she stares at him, wonderingly.  There’s something special about the way she looks at him, so eager to hear any of his stories abroad, becoming especially attentive the more intimate in nature they are.  He once thought he’d never share such private thoughts with anyone, but she makes him want to open up, to share everything.  He could never really withhold anything from her.  Not even if he tried.  

He takes a moment to trace her forehead, her cheek, her chin, wanting to feel close to her.  He combs his fingers through her hair as he begins.  “She had red hair…” 

“Red hair?” she tilts her head in disbelief.  

“Orange-ish, really,” he says, with a small laugh, curling the end of her hair around his finger.  “Wild and fiery.  She was one of our hosts on the long trip from Rome to Milan, which did take nearly a week, now that you’ve got me thinking about it.  One of our horses had trouble and she kindly took us in.  It was a rainy night, but at least not a chilling one, and her cook made us the best stew I’ve ever had.  That evening, we stayed up to talk.  She was an impressive conversationalist.”  

“Oh, was she?” 

“She was,” he continues.  “She was a widow.  A young one.  But she knew things.  Had seen a bit of the world herself.  And I found her captivating.”  He cups her chin and uses his thumb to trace along her bottom lip.  He wants to kiss her. Wants to scoop her up and make up for all the days they’ve missed.  The desire he’s kept carefully at bay is coming front and center again, but he refrains.  

“So you talked?” 

“We did - late into the night.  The others, they one-by-one went to bed, but the two of us.  She said we had a connection and so I stayed.  And talked.”  

“Just talked?” It sounds like disappointment.  

He comes in close, cupping the back of her head carefully, as he whispers into her ear.  “There are plenty of things two people can talk about.”  

“Tell me.” 

He begins to give her feather-light kisses.  “The weather.”  He kisses against her cheek with a grin.  “Embroidery.” Another kiss against her jaw.  “The likelihood of winning at a game of cards.”   He travels down to her neck, but keeps his touch light.  

“Did you kiss her?” She asks.  

He pauses, breathing against her skin.  “I did.” 

“Show me.”  

He kisses her lips.  It’s gentle and tender and as easy as every fleeting kiss they’ve given each other over the past few months.  It’s not enough and he knows it.  

“Show me,” she says again, a harder demand.  

He kisses her harder this time, firm and strong and lingering.  It’s connecting and the heat of his desire begins to grow.  But it’s still not enough.  

“You’re holding back,” she challenges.  

“I am not,” he grins.  

“Don’t tease me,” she says, it’s almost a plea.  

“I assure you, I am not…” 

“Kiss me like you kissed her.” 

“I--” 

He can’t. As much as this had been almost a game between them, he realizes he can’t follow through with that request. Because kissing her is unlike kissing anyone else.  The gentlest brush of skin against skin lights his body aflame in the way that passionate kisses with anyone else does not.  

He pulls back to look at her -- really look at her.  The remarkable thing that he’s discovered since they’ve been married is that there are two of her.  Not her and Lady Whistledown, those are one and the same.  But there is the Penelope whom he fell in love with.  The one he’s always been in love with on some level.  The one who makes him laugh, who grounds him, who always has his best interests at heart.  His dearest friend.  

And then there is the other Penelope.  The woman who looks at him with those darkened eyes; whose lust for him is beyond anything he’s experienced with another partner.  She makes him feel raw and exposed and wanted in the most intimate of ways, even without the shedding of all their clothes.  And he wonders if he’s ever able to fully satisfy her hunger.  

“I cannot kiss you like her,” he says finally.  She looks at him confused.  “Because kissing you is an experience unlike any other.  Nothing feels as good as kissing you.” 

She gives him a proud look as she lunges at him, kissing him fervently.  And this… this is a kiss.  The world melts away, and there’s nothing but her, and her lips against his, her tongue sliding against his own, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer.  He deepens the kiss, feeling her everywhere.  

His own desire is becoming achingly apparent and if he had wanted to, he could end it all in a matter of moments, but he stops himself.  And pulls away, giving them a moment to both catch their breath.  

“This had to have happened after Spain,” she says, breathing heavily, still able to follow the narrative he had been laying down.  “And after France, as you visited Italy after both of them.  You’ve gained some experience by then, so I assume you did not stop with just a kiss.  Tell me, did she have a delectable bosom as well?” It’s her turn to tease, but she does so with the most sultry look upon her face.  

He admires her cleverness.  “Of course,” he gives, and tugs down on her nightgown, exposing her breast.  “As if I would settle for a woman with anything less.”  

He wastes no time latching onto her nipple.  She rakes a hand through his hair, encouraging him to kiss and suck and lick.  He reaches into her nightgown, to grasp at her other breast, squeezing it, causing her to moan and shiver under his touch.  

“I need more,” she manages to cry. 

He keeps his mouth firmly on her, sucking hard, as his hand travels underneath her nightgown.  Her legs fall apart, and he finds her wet and ready for him.  He’s soft at first, teasing where she would like him to be most, then pushes in with two fingers, while his thumb circles her most sensitive of spots.  She lets out a guttural groan that completely undoes him.  He never thought he’d be able to deliver such pleasure to someone else, but she closes her eyes and bucks her hips and lets him take control.  

He begins to kiss up her body as he works her, loving the fact that she has become so familiar to him that he knows exactly the right place to touch, the right pace to move, the right crook of a finger to push her over into release.  She is close, so close and all she needs is a little extra push.  “Let go, Pen,” he whispers into her ear.  “Let go, for me.”  

She screams his name as her release rips through her. He kisses her through it, wanting to feel her everywhere.  

He then pulls away, giving her a minute to come down, and he takes a moment to drink her beauty in.  Her hair is dark red across the white pillow, her breasts out and pink and raw where he’s kissed them.  Her nightgown is a knotted mess that he’ll have to untangle her from.  She has never looked more desirable.  

It doesn’t take long for her to sit up, intense and determined.  She pushes him back, giving herself a moment to free herself from her nightgown.  

“Did she touch you like you touched her?” she asks.  

He scoots back against the headboard, allowing her to undo his trousers.  “...Yes.” He lifts up, allowing her to pull them down and with a few kicks, he manages to cast them off.  

“Like this?” She wastes no time grabbing him.  It’s rough and the angle is awkward but he needs her touch.  

“Yes…” he gasps.  

“What about this?”  

“Penelope, you don’t have to…oh…” 

Her mouth is over him, sucking him down with a sense of determination he’s never seen from her before.  It’s almost too much.  

“Pen…” he says, almost losing himself over to the pleasure of it all.  “Pen, I need you to stop if…”

She pulls off, then straddles his lap.  “Did you lie with her like this?” 

“You really are still comparing any experience with…” 

“Did you lie with her like this?” she repeats. 

“No, but to be fair, we are sitting, not lying down.” It gets her to crack a smile.  “Are you sure you want to continue? Your condition...” he rubs a hand over her stomach.  “I don’t want you to push yourself more than you need to.”  

“Please do not speak to me as the mother of your child,” she says, staring at him deeply.  “Talk to me as your wife.  Your wife who needs you.”  

He nods.  “Okay…” 

They reposition some so he’s sitting on his legs.  She still straddles his lap, reaches between them to grab him, then lowers herself on him inch by delicious inch.  It is ecstasy feeling her around him, warm and tight. She begins to roll her hips, torturously slow.   He wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible, wanting to feel connected in every sense of the word.  She brings her arms around his neck, drawing in for a deep kiss as they rock together.  

They pull apart, and he watches her, lets her lose herself in her own pleasure, lets her use his body for her own needs.  His body aches for its own release, but there’s something beautiful, something satisfying about watching her come undone over him.  

He senses when she begins to tire, when her legs begin to give out and lifts her up to lie her down on the bed.  

“Are you still okay?” he checks in.  

She nods.  “Don’t hold back.  I want to feel it.  I want to feel you .”  

He doesn’t. 

He begins to piston his hips, pushing into her frantically.  She moans into his mouth as they kiss and touch and get lost in each other.  There’s nothing in this world that feels as good as her, as feeling deep in her, as if she’s fully encapsulated him and they are one and the same.  There is nothing outside this room, this moment.  Nothing but her.  His thrusts speed up, become more erratic, and it’s not long before he’s pushed over the edge, spilling deeply inside of her.  

“Colin!” she screams.  His name on her lips, needy and desperate makes him dizzy and he crashes their lips together for another long kiss.  

Coming down, he pumps his hips shallowly a few more times before pulling out. He reaches between them to feel her, to touch her, to let her have her second release that evening.  Her body spasms around his hand, wildly and unyielding.  She calls out his name again, as she clings to him, letting wave after wave of pleasure wash over her.  

He remains over her as they both settle, catching their breath.  She reaches up, cups his face, runs her hands over his arms, his chest, his back. Neither quite ready to be done.  He kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips, sweet and gentle, just wanting one more taste before he rolls to his side, collapsing beside her.  

“Your time with the Contessa,” she says, “was like that?” She giggles as she says it.  

“Penelope…” he laughs, taking her hand, lacing their fingers together.  He doesn’t have to say it.  She knows. 

She shifts, curling up into his arms, cuddling against his chest. 

“Thank you,” she says.  Her voice is soft and sweet and the first Pen has taken over again.  “I needed that.” 

“I could tell,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  He remains quiet for a moment, holding her tight, enjoying the press of her body into his, the sweet smell of her scent she has after they’ve been intimate, the feeling of deep emotional connection that remains even after the physical connection has ended.  

“I think I’ve figured it out,” she says, a bit unexpectedly.  She looks up at him, her eyes bright and engaging.  

“Figured what out, love?” 

“The Contessa,” she gives him a grin.  “I know your secret.” 

“Oh?” 

“She does not exist,” she says plainly.  “You’ve made her up.”  

He gives her a smirk.  “Have I?” 

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Penelope says, as if it’s the most obvious answer.  “There’s no real woman with fiery red hair who happens to be a great conversationalist and has a delectable bosom and can satisfy you so thoroughly.  Not one in Italy, anyway.”  

He chuckles into her hair.  “Oh, I assure you, she is very real.”  

“Real in your imagination.” 

“Real in my bed.”  He leans down to kiss her.  

“What did happen in that missing week then?” she asks.  

“I did tell you,” he says, with a grin.  “We had to get a new horse.  And then stayed for days in the most boring lodge waiting for a storm to pass.  There was nothing to do but stare at the wall…” 

“And create a fake Contessa?” she teases. 

They share a laugh together.  

“Oh, how I love you, Pen.” 

“And I love you .”  

After all of his travels, after all the adventures, he’s glad he’s there now with Penelope; his love, his best friend, his home.  He snuggles her close as his eyes flutter shut, and lets sleep take over.  

[seuonji]

As we are delusional I feel it's ok to imagine jihoon being clingy to his producer!s/o who is also as busy as him but she is more like cheerful and affectionate and reassurance giving (like jeonghan) 🧘‍♀️

best friend. i write fics i am the delusion.

but ong this idea is so cute. recently i’ve been so into woozi his hair this comeback is doing things to me—

jihoon is def the clingy type ong!! like with the right person, he would get so comfortable.

in your studio he always creeps up and hugs you from the back while you’re sitting in your chair.

you pull jihoon to the couch in the studio when he seems like he needs to recharge.

he also loves going to you for reassurance on something he’s created!! he trusts your opinion the most and when he asks for it, he wants you to be as honest as you can. +whenever a svt song does well you get the right to tease him that you played a part in their success.

jihoon would match so well with a cheerful s.o tho!like you two are a sun and moon duo!! he loves your company. he finds you comforting, calming and inspiring all at once.

+date nights in the studio, eating takeout food and jamming to songs<3

[msmpictures]

[☬ Ramshackle O.C ☬]

•{☬Basic Data☬}•

[ Name ]

Astrid Voldemort

Storm > Work's Pseudonym

[ Age | Birthday ]

23 - 27 | October 1st

[ Family ]

Robert Voldemort - Father

??? - Step Mother

[ Job ]

Hired murderer.

[ S.O ]

???

[ More detail of the wound ]

Second degree burn | Cuts = Enucleation (Eye removal).

•{☬ Likes - Dis. ☬}•

[ Likes ]

• To sleep [her only one 'escape']

• To draw [In her days of rest, she draws her father to remember him, even if she is not a very good artist] Although she doesn't show anyone her drawings.

• To smoke

• 💐 [She can describe them as the rainbow of her grey, so that relaxes her a bit]

• ☕ [She is addict at the coffe]

• To stare at the stars [ that makes her forget her shit of job for a while ]

• Children [Doesn't show it, but she really likes children.]

• Rural spaces [That relaxes her]

• 'Acid Candies' [I hope you understand what I mean] Although, she doesn't eat them often.

• Boxing [Is not really something that she likes, but she practices boxing often]

• Agriculture (frustrated dream)

[ Dislikes - Hates ]

• [H] HeR bOsS

• [D] To socialize [She can't actually do it, Astrid just talks with the people when it's about the business and when it's her next victim, so it's kinda awkward for her to get a conversation for more than 30 minutes]

• [H] Her own job [ She is forced to do it, she has no other choice. ]

• [D] Alcoholic drinks [ She says that tastes horrible ]

• [D] Her work partners

• [H] Did I say her Boss?

• [H] Her step mother [She is the reason why Astrid is here]

•{☬ Origins ☬}•

Warning: so long xd

( I don't wanna write a shit but this is how u could sorta understand x,d )

- Astrid Lived with her father in the Ramshackle Streets. Robert was a miner, so they were low class, despite that, they always had enough to survive without ever starving.

- She didn't care about her economic status, since she was working by selling lemonade (as a lil child) and saving her cash to buy a little house In the countryside. Besides, her father always loved her, there was nothing that someone could consider a problem between them.

- Although, Robert couldn't help but feel lonely, so he decided to look for a new lover. A woman who appeared in their life, when Astrid was about to 14.

- The woman was an alcoholic one, always spending the cash into whims and useless things, she was kinda aggressive alone and because of that never had a good relationship with Astrid, but Robert never knew about the circumstances, so he didn't do anything.

- Since the woman appeared, The small family began to have debts, so both Robert and Astrid had to work twice as hard, which did not prevent the debts from increasing drastically, in just two years. For this reason Robert decided to go with a 'friend' (who was a member of a criminal association), to request loans with the condition of paying later, but it never happened.

- This 'friend' He decided to collect everything Robert owed, and as a result of having empty pockets, he kidnapped Astrid (she was 16).

- At first they planned to use her as bait to get the money and then kill her, But after pleas from the minor, they decided to recruit her at a low level, as a kind of servant for anything basic, even burying corpses that they eliminated.

- All this in order to be the one to pay Robert's debts. But it would take a long period of time until now.

- As she grew older, the members began to promote Astrid's position, from making her infiltrate meetings to extract information to turning her into a hitman, having to sell this service to others, In order to recover the lost money.

- The rest, is History..

[⛈️] = Sometimes, she pretends to be mute, so she doesn't need to talk with anyone [That's until she finally she likes u]

•{☬Additional Data☬}•

[🌪️] = The grey hairs are sign of her stress x,d

[🌪️] = She could know everything about weapons and how to play them, but she doesn't know how to cook.

[⛈️] = I don't know what to add about her biological mother.. I'll say she divorced Robert and he won the custody of Astrid 👌.

[🌪️] = Astrid just knows Vinnie, and that because she tried to steal her and found a gun in her purse. (In that moment, Astrid was infiltrated, Vinnie too)

[⛈️] = They're not so close friends, but they help each other sometimes. Either to get information or to get beans.

[🌪️] = Once she finished paying the debts, she will go away from Ramshackle, and live her dreamed life in a house in a rural space.

[⛈️] = Astrid doesn't tell her affection with words. She does it with flowers. If she gives you a daisy, she considers you as her family. If she gives you a rose, she loves you <3.

[🌪️] = She is the kind of person who doesn't understand the jokes. She doesn't have a sense of humour. (She tries man, she tries 😞)

[⛈️] = In an attempt to kill A drunk scammer, this one stroke her with a vodka bottle in her face, and as she failed on the floor, he tried to let her blind, burning her face with a lighter.

[🌪️] = Robert doesn't know if Astrid is still alive, but he is still trying to report her missing, no matter what.

[⛈️] = I could tell she is depressed, and because of that she eats the acid candies. I thought, as Stone with Pebble, she could have an 'interior Demon', with a similar appearance to her 14-year-old self. Despite that, I can't find a name for her..

The whole pic

THREE DAYS DOING THIS SHIT I GIVE UP

[burnthoneydrops]

Like I Always Do (s.o. x fem!reader)

pairing: sam obisanya x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: language (it's ted lasso), use of 'my girl'

a/n: ahh! first time writing for my favourite boy!! i hope y'all like this and don't mind the fact that i clearly know nothing about football, i'm trying my best!!

“Come on Sam!” You call from your place in the owner’s box, Keeley gripping your hand that wasn’t acting as a megaphone. There’s a few minutes left on the clock and both teams have yet to score a goal. The boys are weaving through each other on the pitch, trying desperately to dodge between the opposing players. It’s just started raining and you mutter a curse to the universe under your breath for England’s reliably shitty weather.

“Oh for God’s sake, we just need one goal!” Rebecca sighs from beside Keeley, readjusting the Richmond beanie that held down her hair. Zoreaux throws the ball from his spot on one end, and Sam’s quick to claim it, bouncing it off his knee before kicking it over to Danny. You’d be lying if you said you knew much about football, but from what you do know, this setup looks pretty damn good. 

“Let’s go Richmond!” Higgins calls from behind you, and you can’t help but smile as this is the most high energy and carefree you’d ever seen this man. 

“Babes, you’re gonna squeeze my hand off,” Keeley comments to you as you had turned your focus back to the game, quickly becoming very concerned with the state of it. 

“Oh sorry,” you apologise, loosening your grip with the intention of letting go entirely, but Keeley weaves her fingers through yours, keeping your hand exactly where it is. 

In quite an elegant move from Danny, he twists his body and kicks his leg over the other, shooting the ball straight to the goal. While you could hear the Richmond fans all collectively take a quick breath, it seems too good to be true. Your fears are unfortunately proven accurate as the opposing goalkeeper sweeps the ball away from the netted end, pushing it back onto the pitch with his gloved hands. The crowd splits into a round of sighs and cheers as they either celebrate or mourn the moment for their team. 

“Fucking shit,” Rebecca curses, fidgeting with the bracelet adorning her left wrist. Isaac makes a call, shouting a combination of words that only makes sense to them and they get in a new formation. Jamie runs to basically lean against the opposing team’s players, no doubt muttering something to get in their heads as the boys get ready behind him. They’re soon off again and you’re eyeing Sam the entire time. He’d been so in his head before this that you knew he was stressing like crazy right now. The game is tense and you know he’s trying his hardest, but that self doubt does unfortunate wonders on someone’s self esteem. 

“You’ve got it Sam!” You cheer again, and this time he hears you, looking up at the owner’s box, giving you a warm but small smile and a thumbs up. 

“You’re not biassed at all, are you?” Keeley teases as she looks between you and Sam. 

“And what if I am? You’re the same way for Mister ‘he’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where’ Roy Kent,” You shrug with a squeeze to her hand. 

“Never said it was a bad thing babe,” Keeley replies, shaking her head. 

The crowd starts cheering in unison as the ball gets passed back and forth across the pitch. It gets passed to Sam and the goal is somehow left wide open. This seems almost too miraculous, but you try not to doubt and instead focus on the magic that might be about to happen. Sam claims the ball once again and keeps running forward with it, dribbling it past the opposing players. The stadium waits with bated breath and the tension in the crowd could be cut with a knife. With the looming clock ticking down its last seconds, Sam kicks the ball straight toward the goal, swiftly pushing it past the goalkeeper, making the score 1-1. The timer buzzes loudly, signifying the end of the game, and Richmond has done it. They end with the tie they needed and the fans go wild. 

“With a clean goal from Obisanya, the game ends with a tie!” The announcer repeats into his microphone, as the team runs to hug each other. You and Keeley stand up, exploding with joy as you hug each other tightly, Rebecca turning to hug Higgins from behind her. The fans start to storm the pitch, and everyone is quick to exit the owner’s box, wanting to join in on all the fun. Rain be damned, nothing is going to stop you from celebrating. You search the sea of people for your boyfriend, who pushes Jamie off his back when he sees you. 

“Go get your girl mate,” Jamie smiles, patting Sam lovingly on the back before turning to Isaac and celebrating with him. 

“Y/N!” Sam calls, waving his arms to get your attention. Your smile grows as you spot him, running at full speed, though trying not to slip on the damp grass. His arms open as he meets you halfway, catching you as you hurdle into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. He picks you up lightly, both of you laughing, and spins you around before putting you back down.

“That was fucking amazing!” You praise. “Oh my God, the tension in the crowd was insane but you absolutely fucking killed it!” You tighten your grip on your boyfriend, unable to keep the smile off your face. 

“Hearing you cheer really helped,” he comments as you pull back slightly to look at him. 

“Yeah, might have been a bit aggressive up there. Almost took Keeley’s hand off with how hard I was squeezing”. 

Sam laughs, lightly grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you in for a kiss. The cheers of the fans still on the pitch fade away to background noise as you immediately kiss back, putting all the remaining adrenaline into it. You’re so proud of him and you want him to know it every chance you get. When you two pull away, Sam grabs your hand, twirling you around before settling you back to face him. 

“What was that for?” You ask, a confused look in your eyes. 

“Just wanted to get a good look at you in my number”. It had become custom for you to wear a shirt with Sam’s famous ‘24’ on the back and he loves it every time. 

“My one and only,” you reply, “now come on, this rain is starting to soak through my shoes”. You pull the two of you closer to the exit, but you don’t get too far before Sam’s picking you up and carrying you bridal style across the rest of the pitch. “Sam! Put me down!” You slap his arm lightly before gripping his neck, not wanting to fall. 

“Do not worry, I’ve got you. Like I always do”.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Snuggling with Their S.O. (BAU Headcanons)

HUGE s/o to @ithebookhoarder for the format/inspo on these! I ✨love✨ your HCs!

*Also, PS, this lil exercise has made me abundantly aware that I am super super gay. Like, I had a hard time writing the men because imagining myself/reader snuggling with a man was so weird to me. Sorry, men of the BAU (and men in general)! I'm sure you are great, you're just not for me! So that being said, I want to clarify that I still don't write for the Criminal Minds men. I'd only do them for HCs. - love illdowhatiwantthanks (and what I want is to not write men x reader)

Aaron Hotchner

Surprisingly gentle, as if he's afraid you might break

Very soft, a side of him that not many people get to see (and even you don't get to see it that often)

Hands everywhere, not even necessarily in a sexual way, he just can't keep his hands off you

He gets a lil shy and sometimes has a hard time making eye contact

Lowkey obsessed with the smell of your conditioner and loves to bury his face in your neck

Big spoon, always

David Rossi

Will tickle you until you're practically begging for him to stop

Playful, loves to make you laugh

Plays with your fingers, soft touches that make you shiver

I mean the man is a writer, will whisper either the dirtiest or the sweetest things you've ever heard into your ear depending on the mood

Insomniac, but doesn't even care because he loves to watch you sleep

Big spoon 85% of the time, except after one of his nightmares about the Galen parents' murder

Derek Morgan

Soft, but somehow sensual and passionate at the same time

Will snuggle with you just to snuggle, but also is never mad if it leads to more...

Likes to keep his eyes closed and just feel you

Traces every part of you like he's drawing a map in his mind–curves, freckles, ribcage, shoulder blades, all of it

Prefers snuggling sans clothing–not for sexual reasons necessarily, just because he likes the feeling of skin-to-skin contact

Prefers face-to-face to spooning

Emily Prentiss

Snuggles hard, as in deep pressure, as in holding you very tight, as in wants to be as close to you as humanly possible

Loves to tuck your head in the crook of her neck

Never not playing with your hair

Seriously has a gorilla death grip on you, good luck if you need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night

Will kiss your neck whenever she can't resist–which is always

Big spoon always because she likes to make you feel safe (and she likes to feel that you feel safe with her)

Jennifer Jareau

Gentle and very sweet, a part of herself she doesn't get to show at work

Lots of very cute, very innocent kisses all over your face–forehead, cheek, eyelids, tip of your nose

Stares at you so long it makes you blush

Not usually very forthcoming with "I love yous" but will say it again and again while snuggling

Prefers face-to-face so she can watch you

But will want to spoon after a hard case–if it was one where she was scared for you (usually physically similar victims) she'll want to be the big spoon, if it was one where she was scared she'll be the little spoon

Penelope Garcia

Worships the actual ground you walk on, will make you feel absolutely adored

Makes sure you have everything you need to be comfy–weighted blanket, favorite pillow, stuffies or security blanket, white noise if you need it

Will hold you, of course she will and she will love it, but her favorite is when you hold her

Will tell you the sweetest, randomest, dorkiest things while you're snuggling

Feels almost like falling asleep and into a really good dream when she snuggles into you

If you have any pets, they are 100% invited to snuggle, too

Prefers face-to-face snuggling or little spoon, but if you've had a bad day she will not hesitate to scoop you up

Spencer Reid

Very, very shy at first, like he's trying so hard to be respectful that he lays there like a plank of wood

Makes eye contact only to look away and blush beet red

Plants small kisses on your shoulders every few minutes

Likes to hold your hands and play with your fingers

Foreheads pressed together while he tells you about his latest hyperfixation (it becomes his favorite part of the day)

Will always, always take care of you and hold you when you are having a hard day but secretly loves being the little spoon best

[neapolitanupsidedowncake]

maybe Bakugo and Izuku period care please ❤️

period care with our favorite beans katsuki and izuku!! gn!reader!!

content warning: fluff, reader has somewhat girlish stuff (headbands skincare) established relationship between reader and characters

a/n: not sure if this was the point but i did them separately? idk i really cannot write poly relationships TwT. so sorry this one took a bit of time 😅. hope you like it!

IZUKU

ughhh 🥺

he is such a bean to you

he will pamper you and give you lots of cuddles and back rubs. also massages!!!

he prioritizes your rest and comfort, and he makes hot chocolate for you to help if you have cramps!!

he kind of goes in a rabbit hole to research a bit on period cares for one's s.o. XD

even though it is canon he has no siblings at all just his mom i keep thinking in my head just as a headcanon in general it would make so much more sense if he had a younger sister like 2 years younger than him, so he has some basic idea of how periods hurt

he won't force you to do anything super physical or energy wasting

he's not awkward about it because he knows it's a natural thing, he'll kind of look up any questions he has online coz he doesn't want to piss you off or anything

in general he's a very sweet person, so during times where you're moody or irritated (not even when you're on your period necessarily) he just overlooks it and asks you if you want to spend time together watching a movie or just chilling

he's just soo 🥰🥰

KATSUKI

him too!!

generally he's sort of reckless, but for something like this, he won't joke about it or just dismiss it because he knows it's annoying

he'll go out of his way, even if you don't ask him to, to go to the store to buy you necessities because he noticed there wasn't a lot left

he'll look up foods that are healty-ish to eat whilst in the state of menstruation so he can make them for you!

if you lie in bed together he'll gently rest his head on your tummy if it hurts too much 💗

he won't ever tell you but he even asked his mom for some tips to help you out (she was relentless abt it to him coz of crush on you, even though she knows you're dating lol)

he'll put on some tv show or movie for you guys to watch when you sit on the couch together

if you reeeeeeeaaaaallly beg him he'll let you do your skincare on him (if u had any lol) (ugh im imagining him in a little cinnamoroll spa headband with green paste on his face XD)

hope these headcanons meet your expectations anon!