#GUYS HALOS FREEING THEM!!!

[blacky-arrythmia]

MOVING!! 🤑🤑🤑

HEY GUYS BLACKY BACK WITH ANOTHER BLOG! So today me Connie and Flap are MOVING HOUSES! We are moving so we can get away from a scary monster thing I was told was nearby.. but yeah!

anyways I thought of a really good way to punish the birds for what they have been doing! I bought these MASSIVE glue traps! Like the ones used on rodents but massive, and ima leave them both trapped on some for a few days! So yeah ima do this once we get to our new location!

Tbh I’m surprised Flap didn’t just like- leave on her own accord yet! I know she has that spooky goo form, and she could have just slipped out easily in that form a LONG TIME AGO! I do wonder… why is she… CHOOSING to STAY HERE???

I- wait… what’s that sound..? Hold on let me pull over the car..

OH SHIT THEY FOUND ME! AT LEAST LIVEWIRE BLOODLUST AND TOXEL ARE LEAVING BUT OH SHIT OH NO! W-WAIT..!

HALO DONT FREE THEM WAIT!!!!! DONT DO IT YET I-I…

SOMEONE HELP MEEEEEEEE!!!!

(OOC: hey spectra and tanya, it’s time to go beat the shit out of our favourite led furry ball 😇😇😇

don’t worry about kyia or OL, I think halo can handle them on his own. So just leave them be and focus on blacky :3)

@thesunlightvoid

@tanya4455

@spectra473

[harbingersecho]

some short felix stuff. also price is there for a second

[benetnvsch]

FINALLY making comprehensive refs for all my main Guys YIPEEE (or at least,, this one AU of them kajsdh) So meet Kitson,, he's like,, the Main Guy of my Main OCs (there's like 8 of them that I keep throwing into different stories) )

He is like the Main Character in this one and has made a contract with this magical dragon to help him hunt down and kill this one (1) guy he hates cuz he's normal like that-

[gammaraydeath]

i had my gaming hoodie phase in middle school with an assassin's creed hoodie that i donated eons ago because i succumbed to cringe culture but now i'm reentering that era i want the n7 hoodie and i also want the hev suit hoodie i always secretly wanted but never got

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (1)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Rating: Mature

Square filled for @stuckybingo Round 5: free space - mafia au

Square filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Free Space

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of illegal activities/mafia business/murder, strong reader, mentions of breeding/surrogate, wish for children, shady deals, shitty boyfriend, reader doesn't take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters

Words: 1,5k

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“Babe, how do I look?” Your boyfriend asks, almost stumbling over his words as the men he was hoping to meet at the fancy party walk inside the room. 

Well, they don’t walk like normal people. They are stepping inside the room, stopping in their tracks to look at the people in the room. It looks like the crowd parts like the Red Sea to form a path only for them.

Steven Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes. – Two names you must know if you ever heard of New York City and its mob.

They are as good-looking as they are dangerous. A deadly combination of beauty and the beast hidden behind blue eyes.

If you don’t want to end up six feet under, you don’t mess with them. Or even look their way too long.

“Did you put on the underwear I told you to?” 

“What has this to do with the party?” You sigh, as you still don’t know why Scott brought you here.

You’ve been dating for a few months, and you had hoped that tonight, he’d do more than the bare minimum. He’s not a bad guy, but an awful partner.

A criminal too. Not a criminal mastermind, but you already figured out that the small business he runs is far from legal.

“It’s important, babe,” you roll your eyes at the awful pet name. You hate it and told him so before. “Okay, don’t say anything stupid. Or, just look pretty and don’t say anything at all.”

“What?” Now you square your jaw. You don’t understand what has gotten into Scott until you lift your eyes off him to meet two pairs of blue ones. “Oh…”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes,” Scott looks pathetic when he bows for the heads of the mob in town. “I’m honored to meet you again. Thank you for having me.”

The men ignore Scott and his offered hand. Instead, they look at you. Steve almost shoves your boyfriend aside as he holds out his hand to take yours.

“I see you followed our invitation,” he lowers himself to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You shiver. He seems so polite, and kind. But behind his blue eyes, you can see the beast wanting to break free.

“Stevie don’t scare her off right away,” you are a little overwhelmed when James Barnes turns his attention toward you. He takes your other hand and kisses your knuckles, glancing at your ring finger. “No ring, doll? He didn’t ask you to be his forever?”

“No-“ You’re usually not shy, or meek. But these men crowd you like prey and have their hands on you. You know they are in a relationship, but right now, they look at you as if you are their latest meal. “We’re only dating for a few months.”

“A shame,” Steve cups your chin, making you whimper. You never felt like this before. Confused and aroused at the same time. These men are strangers, but oddly you feel safe in their presence. “What do you say? Shall we lead this to a more private area?”

You don’t know why they are interested in leading you and your boyfriend to a private area, but this can’t be good. People like them never have good intentions, and you assume Steve and Bucky are no exception.

“I’m good here…I mean. You should enjoy your party. Don’t you have to greet all the people you invited?” You nervously babble. 

“Doll, they don’t care if we greet them or not. They are only here to show respect to us,” Bucky runs his index finger up your arm. He smirks as you involuntarily shudder at his touch. “Let’s lead this to our office.”

“Scott,” you dip your head to glance at your boyfriend. He looks up at Steve as if the man is carrying a halo on top of his head. “Scott!”

“Babe don’t be rude. We should follow them to the office,” your boyfriend is no help. He’s wringing his hands while staring at Steve Rogers. God, he’s such a pathetic little boy. You just see it now when you watch him interact with two real men.

“Fine,” you snap at Scott if only to end his pathetic act. “Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, please lead the way.” 

“Do you want a drink or a canapé doll? We can ask the maid to get you something you’ll like,” Bucky sits next to you on the couch, one hand running up and down his thigh, the other creeping toward your thigh. He brushes his metal finger over your exposed skin, barely listening to what his partner has to say.

“Buck, did you listen?”

“Seal the deal,” the brunette clicks his tongue, “I’ll take care of the main act in the meantime. You know I don’t care about the conditions. We already negotiated them. You can take care of the details.”

“I want to take over more important tasks,” Scott suddenly says. He glances at you, and then he looks at Steve. “Sir, I agree on the terms. I’ll do anything to prove that you can trust me.”

“Does she agree on our terms too?” Steve dips his head to watch you stop Bucky’s hand from stroking your thigh. “Buck, we are talking here.”

“I know,” Bucky huffs. “All you do is talk to that slimy little bastard. Give him what he wants so we can get what we want.”

“Mr. Lang, you know that if we seal the deal, that you cannot break it. We have rules for a reason.”

“She will agree,” Scott hastily says. You snap your head toward your boyfriend, wondering what he’s talking about. “Right, Y/N? You’ll help me with the deal.”

“I told you that I’m not going to do anything illegal,” you hiss at Scott. “I looked the other way when you sold stolen phones to my colleagues, but I won’t actively help you. I’m not a criminal.”

“You didn’t talk about the deal with her?” Bucky suddenly jumps up to fist Scott’s jacket. “You dare to come to our house and lie to us?”

“I didn’t lie, Sir…Mr. Barnes. Y/N said she finds you hot, and all. She even talked about ending up between the two of you to her friend.”

“You sick fuck spied on me and Maria?” You growl at Scott. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes…I’m sure she’ll help you have a baby and all…”

“Baby what?” You furrow your brows. “Okay. This is getting ridiculous. What is going on here?”

“Well, we want you to become our surrogate. Bucky and I love each other dearly, but I cannot give him what he needs, nor can he give me what I want. A baby…an heir. We were looking for the perfect woman, with the perfect bloodline.”

“I-what?” The room suddenly caves in. You feel dizzy and grab the edge of the couch. “You want me to be your breeder?”

“No, doll,” Steve walks toward the couch to crouch down in front of you. “We want you to spend time with us…or rather between us.” He grins. “I want you to have my baby. And then you’ll have Bucky’s. We haven’t figured out whose allowed to breed you first.”

“Breed me?” Oh. God. Your pussy just clenched around nothing. If not for the anger taking over, you’d gladly jump Steve’s bones to have all the babies he wants. “Are you fucking insane? I’m not a piece of meat you can just buy!”

“We believed he talked about the deal with you, doll. Please, don’t be mad at us,” Steve purrs, and runs his hand over your cheek. “We only wanted what we deserve. The perfect woman having our babies.”

“She will agree…” Scott nervously says. He looks at you, hoping you’ll agree to whatever the two men holding his fate in their hands want. “Right babe?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” you jump up, and push Steve aside. “What did you believe will happen when you bring me here to offer my uterus and pussy to these two? Huh? That I’ll just bend over the desk and let them have their way with me!”

“I-uh…kinda…yes…”

“Pathetic,” you click your tongue as you glance at Bucky. He cracks his knuckles, ready to rough Scott up a little for messing with them. “I knew you were no good. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct.”

You dip your head to watch Steve walk toward his partner. They are looking at you, like lions ready to pounce. Those two men set their eyes on you, and you are not foolish enough to believe that they’ll leave you alone.

If you end up in their clutches, you’ll make sure they only get their hands on you to your conditions. “You want me and my womb?”

“More than anything,” Bucky purrs. He steps behind you to place both of his hands on your belly. “And I can tell, Stevie, and will love filling you up.”

Scott hopefully looks at you. This is the moment he was waiting for. He’ll be a made man soon, and his ex will see, he's more than the loser she sees in him. 

You look at Steve, holding his gaze, “I’ll be yours if you get rid of him…”

Part 2

[lovebugism]

band!eddie and reader finally having some alone time in the tour bus *wink wink*

18+ rockstar!eddie universe <3

It was one of those rare occasions where the rest of the band wanted to go out and you wanted to stay in. There hadn’t even been a show that day, just interview after interview after interview. It left your social battery at an all time low. So when Jeff and Gareth wanted to barhop the night away, you lamented that you were way too tired to accompany them. 

And Eddie, being the nice guy he was, opted to stay in with you. “Someone’s gotta make sure the lady stays safe. Wouldn’t want someone to steal ya,” he’d half-joked.

You scoffed. “Because, god forbid, you lose your bassist, right?”

“Well, if I lost you, I think I’d die, but…  yeah, having to find a replacement would definitely be more emotionally taxing.”

Eddie Munson was the only person in the world who could rival your sarcasm. It was so easy for the both of you to cover up a sweet thing with something so playfully sour. The boy finishes his quip with a stupid, lovedrunk grin that nearly makes you melt. 

“Obviously,” you retort.

The rest of the boys disappear for the next several hours, enough for the sun to have set and stars to sprinkle the sky. If you had to guess, they’ve probably got a running bet on how many bars they could get free drinks from. It’ll go on until they can’t see straight anymore, no winners or losers — unless you count your manager, who’ll no doubt have to escort them back to the bus. 

With them gone, the bus is practically silent for the first time all tour. There is no boyish yelling or tuning guitars or video games. There’s not even the muffled sound of tires on gravel with the tour bus parked. It’s total silence filled only with the faint sounds of Charlie’s Angels coming from the common area. The episode is practically on mute, though, because Eddie knows you’re tired and doesn’t want to disturb you.

The soft quiet ushers you into its velvet arms. It almost lulls you to sleep several times over, but something in the back of your mind refuses to let you slumber. You were annoyed at first. You were squirming in your tiny bunk for nearly an hour until you realized you were filled with a need of a different kind.

You didn’t need sleep. You needed Eddie. Like a child needs their baby’s blanket — you can’t be without him for too long, or you might start screaming. The sudden ache to be close to him hits you like a freight train.

The sliding door of the bunks glides open with a mechanical schlick. You lean against the frame of it, clad only in a too big shirt that probably belonged to all the boys before it got to you, and admire your boy in his element.

He’s all spread out on the leather couch, curly hair untamed and in a messy chestnut halo on his head. He wears a piece of outdated Corroded Coffin merch from back when you only played gigs at The Hideout. The shirt clings to his torso while a pair of old pajama pants hang low on his hips.

Eddie’s eyes are firmly trained on the small television in the corner of the bus. The chocolate of them dart around the screen as Farrah Fawcett turns flips beneath a shoddy cable service. He barely acknowledges your presence, too engrossed in the climax of his show.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he says without looking at you.

“I’m too bored to sleep,” you practically whine. 

Your feet shuffle along the carpeted floor as you walk the short distance to him. You all but flop onto the couch at his side, burying your face into the warmth of his neck.

“What do you mean you’re too bored to sleep?” he mocks with a soft laugh. He turns to press his lips to your head, not exactly kissing you there, just resting against you. His words are muffled: “Why didn’t you go out with Jeff and Gareth?”

“Didn’t want to,” you answer shortly.

“Solid answer,” he nods. “What do you wanna do then?”

He doesn’t necessarily mean it suggestively. He’d probably go lie in traffic if it’d make you less bored, he loves you so damn much — but fuck if a million dirty things don’t pop into your head all at once.

It’s practically the first time you’ve been alone all tour. 

Now that you think about it, every time you’ve fucked Eddie, it’s been at the discretion of prying eyes just behind a door or in a room over. Hotels are few and far between, and you and your boys are the tightest clan the universe has ever seen, so it leaves little room for opportunity time for you and Eddie.

But here you were now, with no one around, and practically all the time in the world (or rather, until sunrise, when the rest of the band shuffled back onto the bus).

“I don’t know,” you lilt, though you’re already hooking a leg over his thighs.

Eddie feels like a teenage boy all over again as you settle onto his lap. A wide grin tugs slow at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. “What are ya doin’, doll?”

“Nothin’,” you shrug, feigning innocence, like you’re not slipping your fingers through the hem of his pants. The tips of them inch into his boxers and trail down the thin patch of coarse hair there with a touch that’s smoother than water.

His cock is already half-hard when you take him into your hands, warm and soft and stiffening in your grip. Eddie exhales deeply through his nose at your gentle caressing, his gaze now turned down to where work him harder.

“Keep watching your show, baby,” you tease with a knowing grin as you slip his dick from the confines of his pajamas.

“How can I—” he tries to joke, but the words get lost in his throat when you slide your panties to the side. He goes instantly stupid at the sight of your slick collecting along the manicured thatch of pubic hair just above your pussy. His brain all but ceases to function when you rub yourself along him, drenched folds parting to welcome the bulbous tip of his cock.

You feel like silk, he concludes, or maybe something somehow softer. 

Eddie swallows thickly while his obedient hands settle on your hips to steady you. He continues, this time with a tremble in his voice. “How can I when you’re pullin’ this shit, huh?” his button eyes flit back up to look at you, a smirk forming on his pink lips. “You just wanna ride me, huh? That’s what you need?”

You don’t answer him. You’re barely listening, if you’re honest, too concentrated on positioning him at your opening. You gasp softly when you pierce yourself with him, then exhale low moans as you sink slowly onto his cock. The burn is a minimal one, somewhere in your lower tummy, that washes away with a flood of velvet-coated pleasure. 

Eddie fills you so perfectly, just like he always does, like he was made to be seated inside you.

“Well, this is an excellent way to pass the time, if I do say so myself,” he manages to quip through bated exhales from where he’d been holding his breath. You rock your hips over his lap without warning. His pink lips form a tight line as something short of a growl bubbles in his throat and rumbles in his chest.

You watch with a proud grin as his eyes flutter shut and his head falls back. You push his curls over his shoulder to press open-mouthed kisses along the pale expanse of his neck, occasionally dragging your teeth along the milky white tendon there.

Eddie hums to himself when he feels you mewl softly against his skin. Your hips sway back and forth over his thighs, moving to a rhythm of their own accord — all slow and methodical. It’s a pace that always gets him pussy drunk. A steady rise and fall that forces him to feel all of you and makes him swear that you’re some kind of succubus.

“Oh my god,” he says within a dragged out exhale. He starts to babble to himself while you work yourself over his lap. “Fuck me… This is so… so fucking hot. Shit— your pussy is so good to be, doll…”

He forces himself to open his heavy eyes to watch you mount him. His chin tilts down towards his chest and he shifts his hips so he has the perfect view of you. Your honey coats his lap, leaving his cock and pubic hair glistening with your slick. The sight of him all shiny with you makes him dizzy.

His palm leaves your hip and seeks purchase on your ass, not really thinking about it, just gravitating to hold you there. He grips you with guitar-string calloused hands that encourage you to rock harder against him.

Your hand trails from his shoulder down to where the two of you meet. You start to rub your clit with a lust-fueled fervor that just about makes him implode. You whine when your fingers meet the sensitive button, clenching somehow tighter around him as your pleasure begins to crescendo.

“That feel good?” he wonders through bated breaths. His hand leaves your ass, rising for no more than a moment, only to come down again in a practiced slap that makes you jolt against him. The sting of his palm adds gasoline to the simmering embers of your impending orgasm.

You whine, louder this time, arching your back and keening shamelessly against him.

It makes him grin. “Huh? Feels good on your pretty little clit, doesn’t it, doll?”

“Fuck yes…” you cry through a tight throat. “Feels so good, Eddie— fuck.”

Your hips lose their rhythm as your body fights to find its own pleasure. 

You’ve got his dick locked inside you with a grip so tight it’s got him seeing stars, and it makes him wonder if you’d stop. Like, if the boys barged in right now, would you keep going, too far gone and dumb on his cock not to see it through. 

Something about that, you riding him for all he’s worth, whining while you come on his cock with your friends watching — seeing firsthand who you belong to — makes him want to burst all at wants.

“God, this pussy’s amazin’, baby… ’S gonna— holy fuck… You’re gonna make me come if you keep riding me like this... Shit, yeah, just like that, doll.”

When you come, you do it together.

It’s a borderline spiritual feeling, one that doesn’t happen very often because Eddie’s usually adamant about you coming twice before he has the first time. But now, both of you are sensitive and whining through your orgasms, heaving out incorrigible moans and grasping tightly onto one another.

Eddie takes to fucking up into you while you reach your simultaneous highs. He grips you hard enough to leave bruises while his thighs audibly slap slap slap against your more slick ones. You cry at the oversensitivity — electric shocks that contrasts heavily with the warm feeling of his come spitting into your fluttering walls.

You shake violently in his hold, moaning his name over and over like it’s the only word you can remember. Your orgasm comes and goes, and you’re left whining pathetic Eddie, Eddie, Eddie’s into the mostly silent tour bus.

The boy isn’t in much better shape either. He fights off a cramp in his foot from where he’d curled his toes too tightly and blinks away burning tears that sing the backs of his eyes from coming so suddenly.

Your hips come to a slow stop over his lap, too quickly and yet not soon enough. You rest your forehead over his own, knocking your nose with his before you lean in to press several lazy pecks upon his lax mouth.

“See?” you manage to tease through heavy pants. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I guess that wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Eddie quips with a wide grin and eyes that are still slightly glazed with dispersing pleasure. He rubs his hands over the skin of your ass to soothe where he’d held you too tight. It’s soft, too soft for what he’s about to tell you. 

“Now, how about you spread yourself out on this couch and let me clean you up, ‘kay?”

[sykestarot]

what attracts people to you?

1-2-3 (left to right)

I do not own any of these images

Hi guys I'm back for this weeks reading! Thanks so much for all the love on the other post it really means a lot! I hope these messages resonate as well. Thanks for stopping by yet again! :)

Pile 1

"Just wondering when you said I'm beautiful, was I being lied to?"

(2 of swords (rx); ace of cups; 5 of swords; 4 of swords (rx); queen of pentacles; 2 of cups (rx)) I’m feeling for you pile one that you don’t believe that you’re attractive at all, energetically or physically. Like people would always prefer someone else other than you. Quite literally how the song title is opposite, you believe people are only attracted to the types of people who are opposite of you. Which is so obviously not true because so many people are attracted to you. I don’t know if you think more people value stability over spontaneity. But your cards imply that you are a free spirit and people love that about you. Not only are you a free spirit but you also are hard working. You aren’t one of those people that says they're a free spirit as an excuse to do nothing. I’m feeling that you carry this abundant energy of like “I want it, I got it”. And people just want to stay in that energy. You also have a resilience that people see and it makes them admire you but also want to learn from you. Your energy is truly so beautiful. I see that you might have long hair with beautiful waves to it. Perhaps you’re tan or have a darker complexion. You’re the type of person who loves doing hikes and smelling the fresh air outside. I also see beaches and a boho style to you. Lots of whites and vibrant blues as well. Perhaps you’re Greek or some type of southern European. I see that you also have doe eyes and people find them to be mesmerizing. As well as your smile. I don't know why you don’t think you’re attractive because the vibes I'm getting are that you’re a stunner!! I hope one day you can learn to appreciate the qualities in yourself that others see!  Signs : Athens, Greece, kitties, pasta, the smell of pine orange and vanilla, woven hats, big sunglasses, kites, hang gliders?, laughs, melted ice cream, strawberry scents, lip gloss, glitter, flamingos, Sagittarius

Pile 2

"She's got a halo around her finger around you" (The world; 5 of swords (rx); the high priestess; knight of pentacles (rx); 9 of wands (rx); the hierophant) Pile two you are my pile that knows people are attracted to you and use it to your advantage. Which is so real of you but also so slay. And this is not to say that you use your beauty to gain things in a negative way. It’s more like you know the cards that you were dealt and you’d be damned if you didn't use them. I feel like this is my Scorpio pile. Something about you is mysterious and that entices people to want to get to know you better. I feel like you are like a real life siren. The way you speak or the tone of your voice ensares people and draws them right to you. You also have a fated energy or destiny really plays a role in your life. To the point where people want to be in your life because they think they might be able to get some of whatever you have. You might also be witchy and cast spells or work with guides to make things go your way in life. You co create with spirit for sure. I feel like you guys have a contrasting appearance, like pale skin dark hair, or darker skin and lighter hair. I feel like your eyes are piercing like they are hunting prey and people love feeling like they are hunted by you. I see you being very chiseled whether that’s in the body or the face. You have a striking appearance for sure. The kind that people do double takes on the street. You might get a lot of losers who want to talk to you because your energy and appearance are so intoxicating. I also feel like you’re overall just very bold. Perhaps Aries as well? I also feel like anything said in this reading you already know about yourself lol. Signs : Osprey; Seahawks (football); Megan Fox; vampires; red lisp; metal; silver; motorcycles; the twilight saga?; Jennifer’s Body; clubbing; latex; Washington State; black hair; blue eyes

Pile 3

"I know she's gonna break my heart"

(8 of cups; 7 of wands (rx); page of pentacles; the moon; the hanged man (rx); the lovers) You, my pile three, are the heartbreaker, soul stealer, sad girl pile. People are attracted to you because people want to fix you, not necessarily that you need to be fixed to be honest. It’s more in the sense that you don’t care about them more than you care about yourself. It’s like they want to teach how to love or be the one that changes you. Which to me is so funny because it’s not that you don’t know how to love it’s that you don’t love them lmfao. You don’t entertain many suitors or people in general and so when you do give people your energy it’s special. However with how selective you are it makes people want to know more about your inner world. But you come off so nonchalant that people want to get a reaction out of you. You have the potential to feed people’s hero/savior complex if you actually like them back. I also feel like your sense of style is alternative or goth and that’s also what brings people to you. I’m getting retired emo’s or lil peep/suicide boy fans. Perhaps your taste in music also attracts people. I feel like you’re social media and the way you present yourself really gets people wanting to know you more. You’re very mysterious but I'm getting in more of an Aquarius or Pisces way. I feel like you like having dramatic makeup on or you have a very out there style. I keep seeing, like cyber goth or emo. I’m not super well versed in those genres of style so I hope you get it lol. Maybe you have lip rings or eyebrow piercings. Anyways you’re very unique and that’s what attracts people to you. I also feel like you’re always doing cool and new stuff and people are attracted to you because you’re a trendsetter in a lot of ways. Maybe you have a following on a social media platform? Idk I feel like people watch you via the internet. Signs: anime; jjk; tik tok; silver metals; lip biting; rilakuma; pastel pinks; black; stripes; oversized sweaters; skirts and thigh highs; leg warmers; big chunky shoes; platform boots; johnny guilbert?; music holds importance here

[ambros1an]

guardian angel! sunday hcs

warnings: guardian angel Sunday, implied fallen angel sunday, obsessive/yan sunday, biblically accurate sunday, gn! reader

a/n: i love the angel man

Guardian angel! sunday who’s personally assigned to watch over you for his first task. Being one of the head angels is hard work enough, but since it was seraphim Gopher Wood’s request he has no choice but to obey.

Guardian angel! Sunday who’s always had an interest in humans. Their fleeting lifespan, choosing the paths of sin or redemption, working their hardest for the slimmest chance of success. Hoping that the otherworldly acknowledge their actions.

Guardian angel! Sunday who is content to watch you. Sure, he could implant ideas telepathically, but seeing your true intentions is so much more fascinating. He steers away potential troublemakers instead. That guy who was about to mug you? Seems that he forgot to turn the stove off. That older woman giving you a hard time? Her demeanor shifts 180 and suddenly apologizes.

Guardian angel! Sunday who realizes the world is just too cruel for you. The rich stomp on the poor to gain more. The weak will never flourish inside their man made prison.

Guardian angel! Sunday who becomes dissatisfied with simply observing. He has urges that something like him shouldn’t. He wants to caress your hair, wants to bestow a kiss onto you like the couples do. He wants to feel your skin against his. How he wonders what it would feel like. Would your hands be warm? Soft or coarse?

Guardian Angel! Sunday who appears in your dreams. “Be not afraid, dear,” his visage is of a golden eye, with giant rotating halos surrounding it, accompanied by several small wings branching off of them, “I will free you of this unjust world.“

For now he’s content to dream and not to act. But the black feathers spreading across his wings tell him that fantasy isn’t far from reality.

[catnipaddictt]

Anakin being soft?

thank you for the request! this is super short (darn writers block) but hopefully it captures your vision <3

Five more minutes

anakin x gn!reader

synopsis: mornings with anakin

wc: 0.3k

tw: nothing, just fluff

The first signs of morning were shining through the curtains as you slowly woke up. An arm not belonging to you pulls you tighter as your boyfriend speaks behind you “not yet.” A warm face pushes itself closer to your neck and you feel a content sigh. This time of morning was your favourite; there was nothing better than waking up to this. Anakin was basically a human hot-water-battle, meaning you were never cold, which was helpful in the brisk morning. And today was no different. You could practically see the heat radiating off him, not that you were complaining. 

Turning in his embrace you place your head against his chest, he moves to accommodate the new position. “You should probably get up” your grumble being muffled by his figure. “Probably” he replies softly, running his fingers through your hair, “but I would much rather prefer to stay here.” He pulls the covers up with his other arm, making sure you are comfortable. A light breeze flutters through the curtains, you must have forgotten to close one last night, and the early light bathes the two of you. Anakin effectively glows in the rays of sunlight, his curls falling around his face in a sort-of halo. 

He readjusts his arms around you before dipping his head to rest it against your own. Anakin was always gentle with you despite what he did as a jedi knight. His calmer side seemed to come out around you, he was more comfortable in your presence than anywhere else. The peaceful moment was ruined by the beeping of an alarm set on Anakin's holo, signalling that it was time to get ready for work. You move to untangle yourself from him, but are met with resistance and large hands pulling you back, “no, not yet” he speaks with a hint of authority, “just five more minutes?” you don’t protest, instead melting back into his embrace “okay”.

if you guys have more request feel free to send them in and I will add them to my list!

[theveesbf]

Hi hi! Would it be OK to request some fluff on how you think Charlie, Vaggie and the Vees would react to care for a little angelic child who might have accidentally gotten into hell via the extermination portal? Or maybe just Charlie and Vaggie since you just said you wanted to get some requests for them? Hope this is an OK request and you are having a good day ❤️❤️

Platonic!Charlie, Vaggie and The Vees X Angelic!Child!Reader

︴Notes - Hey!! Of course! This looks so cute😭 also, I made all the Vees together(not in a relationship), and Charlie and Vaggie together as well, I hope you don't mind! (Can you guys tell I like the Vees?)

︴Content - Headcannons of how would Platonic!Chaggie and Platonic!Vees would be with an Angelic child!reader who had gotten in Hell by accident

When Charlie found you she was so worried!

How could Heaven not notice a little child going through the portal, on the day of the extermination??

She was quick to help you and take you to the hotel, yelling Vaggie's name.

Vaggie got really sad when she saw you because even if you didn't got your wings and eye cut off, it was still pretty traumatic to get in hell when you were in heaven.

Especially for a child goddammit!

So they were like mothers to you now, making sure you were fine.

Charlie is kinda over protective of you because since you're clearly an angel, a lot of demons may try to do something to you.

Vaggie definitely asked politely (threatened) the others to watch over you whenever Charlie or her weren't present.

And if you wanted to go out and they couldn't go, Vaggie just told Angel or Alastor to go with you.

Obviously if they couldn't someone else could go too.

Charlie would have her father, Lucifer, to meet you, and he would be also really sad from what happened to you.

Lucifer acts like a grandfather to you!

Since you're a child and probably still didn't learn how to preen your wings properly, Vaggie, Lucifer or Husk might help you.

In general, Vaggie and Charlie are going to take really care of you as if you're their child! <3

Vox was the first to saw you through his cameras and he wasted no time on telling someone to go find you.

When you got there all scared, he didn't care a lot at first, only taking you to show you to the other Vees.

They were surprised seeing an angel, a CHILD angel, and probably got them to be all touchy if your wings and halo.

Velvette wanted to have you to model for her, while Vox wanted you to just be with him in case he needed.

They didn't let Valentino say what he wanted.

So the Vees kinda of adopted you? They let you stay there with them without hurting you and also protecting you. You just needed to behave.

At first with you staying at The Vees Tower they wouldn't be so rude with you but also not really friendly.

Though after some time, Velvette got more chill with you, even letting you hug her once in a while.

Vox was the next, usually patting your head and even calling you kiddo.

Valentino was trying to not be so... Vulgar with you. And it took some time obviously, though when he managed to be more normal around you he was the one who hugged you the most.

You usually just went back and forth on their tower to go find whoever was free first.

Velvette loved to dress you up on her clothes, especially new ones that were inspired by angels!

When Vox wasn't doing anything, he'd put something on his screen if you wanted.

Valentino was the one you were scared the most at first, but then he got less scarier as time went by with him hugging you and even kissing your forehead (platonic not weird way)when leaving.

They were all fascinated with your wings, especially Velvette and Valentino who couldn't keep their hands off of them.

Valentino helped you preen your wings all the time.

Velvette was like an older sister to you, Valentino like your father or uncle and Vox like a brother.

Which makes Vox annoy you a lot some times, just like an older brother.

The three of them were really protective of you, never letting anyone go close to you if it wasn't someone they trusted.

And don't even think of leaving the tower without bodyguards or even themselves.

There's no way they're letting you, a child angel, out there in the streets of hell all alone.

So in general, the Vees treated you like a child/sibling of them who they've learned to love.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Pandora was right, taking baths out in the wilderness was great! He could see the stars and point out the constellations as he scrubbed himself and practiced his singing where no one could hear him. This did not stop him from wearing swim trunks, so hess a litte paranoid. Sue him.

Pandora had been very clear about going deep into the wilderness where no one could hear him sing, because if they heard the siren song of a halfa and fled they would be haunted by it forever or until he himself tracked them down and sang a song strong enough to free them.

Ancients she knew him so well.

He had been minding his own business playing in the water with his multitude of floating duck candles, a purchase he begged Sam for when he was drugged out of his mind after a very devastating injury, and practicing one of the songs Pandora put on the "study list" called The Fairy King. If he didn't know any better he would think she was making fun of him.

He scrubbed his arm with a washcloth as he sung watching as the ducks floated around in the little super hero costumes Tucker had 3d printed for them. "Huh. It almost looks like they're dancing."

A light bulb went off in his head. He began practicing with his telekinesis as he sang, making the ducks dance together in little twists and twirls. He doesn't think he's ever had this much fun in a bath before honestly.

----

Red Robin and Nightwing were sneaking through the foliage looking for a supervillians secret base when they heard it. The sound of a full symphony playing live off in the distance. They nodded at eachother before heading in the direction the sound was coming from. They were almost on top of it when they heard the singing begin,

"When the house is still i can hear his song, beckoning me out into the ga-ar-den" the boys froze, this didn't sound anything like thier villain, they turned back to the noise edging closer, "his lullaby- promises sweet- escaaape"

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw once they parted the underbrush, a glowing white haired teenager was standing in chest deep water, haloed by the moon behind, offering them an ethereal scene "He says, 'come my drifting flower i will hold you tight. Listen to the chime of stars and moo-oonlight-'"

The teen lifted up a floating ducky that was dressed like Red Robin in one hand and placed the other of his chest as he continued singing, "take my hand-and feel here- my heaart"

Red Robin turned beat red and Nightwing moved to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder only to have a twig snap underneath his boot. The guy whirled around and locked eyes with Nightwing for only a moment before screaming and falling backwards into the water. Bubbles rose to the surface of the pond only for a few seconds before they vanished all together.

It felt like a spell was broken and the two vigilantes just stood there for a second before nightwing jumped in to save a possibly drowning teen. No matter how hard he searched he couldn't find any proof that the guy was ever even there, save for the duck candles (?) that Red Robin had already finished collecting from around the pond.

RR didn't seem surprised that the guy had vanished and was examining the ducks. More specifically the bottoms. Dick went to see what was going on only for his younger brother to show him the bottom of the Nightwing duck.

There, in messy handwriting, was the ducks name: Duckwing

Dick laughed and started going through the ducks names, Quack-Hood, Bat-Bill, Red-Drake (which was kinda concerning and brought up the question of whether or not this guy knew any of thier identities) and funniest of all, a Robin one with a little plastic katana simply named Stabby.

----

Danny hid his face in his pillow after accidentally teleporting home. This was awful.

He waited until the heat in his face disappeared before taking a few deep breaths and thinking about how he was going to handle this. He obviously needed to track down the two Gotham vigilantes (what were they doing out there?) and break the spell on them before they become obsessed with him.

Then he remembered his ducks, "Aw man. What are the chances they didn't take my ducks?" Teleporting back to the pond after a full hour of being away showed a dark and duckless pond, much to his disappointment.

Now he added "recue the ducks" to his mental checklist.

Unbeknownst to him the vigilantes weren't the only ones to hear his song...

[crowleys-ducks]

I haven't seen anyone else say this, but it occurred to me when I rewatched s2 that in episode 6 when The Metatron said Crowley "always asked damn fool questions" that it was glaringly obvious who really threw Crowley out of heaven. It wasn't God. It was The Metatron.

In s1, after the bookshop fire, when Crowley is drunkenly rambling about Lucifer and the guys showing up one day, I feel like he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps he had already been asking The Metatron questions--things that The Metatron realized would threaten his own standing in heaven.

Maybe Crowley discovered something terrible about The Metatron, but either had that part of his memory wiped after he fell, or didn't know how bad the "terrible thing" was so he hasn't yet connected those dots.

What if The Metatron was the one who originally wanted to take over heaven? What if he's patiently biding his time, disguised as the benevolent voice of God, shaping heaven into what HE wants it to be? What if he framed Crowley, Lucifer, and everyone who "rebelled"??

Consider. By the time Crowley shows up with Lucifer and friends, The Metatron is supremely pissed that his plan might be in jeopardy due to a few nosy angels. But if those angels and other free-thinkers like them were no longer around, The Metatron could relax and continue to direct his puppets as he pleased--all under the guise of doing God's will, of course.

Crowley just wants to ask some questions and make some suggestions. Next thing he knows he's fighting angels because The Metatron sounded the alarm. "Renegade angels are challenging the authority of God!" That's all that needed to be said for all hell to break loose. There's so much confusion. Halos are flying all over the place, weapons are clashing, and through it all I feel like Crowley would be... stunned. He can't see Aziraphale, but his pals Lucifer, Furfur, and others are there so he defends them. In doing so, he's chosen his side, so he's cast out with them.

But he was never on their side to begin with.

The Metatron didn't care. All those damn fool questions got Crowley in trouble. Serves him right. If you watch ep6, you'll see The Metatron clearly has a hatred of Crowley. Did you notice the look he gives Crowley before he has the coffee talk with Aziraphale? That was a pure death glare, with menacing music and all. Watch it again.

The Metatron knows Crowley would never come back to heaven because Crowley thinks God abandoned and rejected him for asking a few questions. The Metatron knows Aziraphale still believes in goodness, in the system the Metatron has crafted, making Aziraphale the perfect angel to manipulate.

What The Metatron doesn't know is the lengths Aziraphale will go to for Crowley's sake, but he's going to find out in s3, big time. The Metatron was so concerned about angels like Crowley he never realized angels like Aziraphale are the most dangerous. I believe the reason why Aziraphale smiles in the elevator is because he knows exactly what he's going to do in heaven. He's going to wreck The Metatron's shit--and The Metatron will never see it coming.

[agendabymooner]

sweet spoiled husband (+ son) ! sebastian vettel x ofc (filipino!ofc)

summary: there’s nothing more swoon-worthy than bel ong-vettel’s constant fawning over the retired german driver. AND mick schumacher can be anything. hell, he can also be the vettels’ child for a week as he travels to philippines to visit the couple.

content warning: mick schumacher <3, tweets at the first post, whipped!ofc being in love with seb and their son mick, seb being an afam (iykyk; for my halo halo homies, ily), wealthy and celebrity!ofc

note: i miss philippines. chile anyway, here’s some seb and mick content. p.s. I DO NOT OWN THESE PHOTOS, i got them from pinterest. also, you should see the tweets in full view 💕

masterlist

liked by mickschumacher, ginaschumacher, georgerussell63

mickschumacher from what i hear, i wouldn’t want to leave either 😅 liked by belongvettel

belongvettel until the personal space gets invaded hahaha!

user1 god has favourites and its the two of them

user2 god has a favourite and its sebastian vettel

user3 god has a favourite and its their dog hi-ro

georgerussell63 he’s really one-upping toto with all those shirts huh 🤣 liked by belongvettel

belongvettel i swear he never got the idea from toto 😭 it’s the retirement epiphany i suppose

georgerussell63 AH that’s more like it 👌

user4 THAT IS NOT SEB?!

user5 MAAM THAT CLOSET DOES NOT BELONG TO SEBASTIAN

user6 cut the cameras. deadass.

tagged belongvettel

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, landonorris

user1 NAW THEY ACTUALLY TOOK HIM SHOPPING IN THE BAZAARS TOO 😭

user2 they took you to intramuros??? you are their favourite child 🤓

lewishamilton look at those two! so sweet 😍

belongvettel thank you so much for visiting us, mick! you’re more than welcome to stay for as long as you like (unless we live in switzerland, but of course you’re also welcome there) 🫶 liked by mickschumacher

mickschumacher i want more of those coconut shake please

belongvettel consider it done!

user3 i know the whole grid is foaming in the mouth rn after they saw you travel for free 😩

oscarpiastri jealous tbh

landonorris mate spare some schumacher genes, it’s the only way i’ll get noticed

mickschumacher 😘 no, i’d rather be an only child

ginaschumacher 👁️👄👁️

user4 bro forgot he had a sister lmfao 💀

user5 i just know that mick’s gonna be the talk of the grid when he returns from his vacation 😭😭

tagged mickschumacher

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris, maxverstappen1

mickschumacher looking forward to it!! liked by belongvettel

georgerussell63 the only time mick got a driver’s seat this season is seen at the last photo hahaha

mickschumacher don’t be jealous i have better shirtless photos than you 😡

user1 FACE OFF?!!! who has better shirtless photos

user2 bel please 😭 you fed us with too much shirtless mick photos

user3 sorry guys i drooled a lil

user4 lMAO NOT GEORGE VIOLATING MICK 😭😭

landonorris mickschumacher did you burn your tongue drinking the first pic too?

mickschumacher no 😅

belongvettel yes 😅

landonorris hi belongvettel can you take me to a trip next??? and oscar??? and max??? and danny???

user5 bel rn: “this is not the kind of charity i do” liked by mickschumacher

[hheaven-sentt]

meet me in the woods

summary: dreams of the woods and being someone else | leon kennedy x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: the softest angst ever, fighting & sparring, mentions of injuries, language, wanderlust, love confessions, unfortunate situations, slightly forbidden romance, krauser mention (i hate that guy)

notes: 'm where have you been?' 'm when are you coming back?' i'm back. i'm alive. i am free from the shackles of college for three months lawd have MERCY | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kick to the stomach should’ve been something you expected. You’d been calculating his moves the whole time, able to evade them without even thinking because you saw them from a mile away. But he wouldn’t stop talking. That’s always how he got you; opening his mouth and letting pretty words fall out of it. So when he said that the sunlight made your eyes a different shade, a prettier shade, you lost your touch. It was replaced by a boot to the stomach.

You let out a sound you didn’t even know you could make, a rush of air blowing past your lips. You hit the ground hard, half expecting a plume of dirt to come up around your shoulders. Leon is over you in an instant, locking your arms across your chest. He’s grinning. The sun outlines him like a halo.

“Yield,” he says, lips wrapping around his teeth in an obnoxious grin.

“Never,” you say, pushing back against him. You know it won’t matter so much, he’s always been stronger than you.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he asks, teasing. You notice your legs are still free, remaining unpinned by his. You finally return his grin.

“Never have,” you answer, managing to force your leg between his chest and yours. You plant your foot against him as best you can and give a hard kick. It’s enough to loosen his grip on you, and you’re back on your feet in minutes. You shake the dirt off of your shoulders.

You feel more at ease now, more in control. So long as Leon stays quiet, you might actually win this one. You put the voice in your head to bed, the one that says you’re still going to lose.

Leon tilts his head a bit, grin still hanging on his lips. He squares again, feet shoulder width apart. You could mirror his stance without even thinking. You know his strategies, you know his moves, you know the way his body works. He bounces on the balls of his feet before he swings, it gives him more momentum. He blocks too often with his right forearm, it’s covered in bruises that make it a weak spot. Yes, you know him. That doesn’t always make it easier.

You’re circling one another, waiting for the other to strike. Leon likes to bide his time; he knows you hate going on the offense so he tries to make you, tries to goad you into it. You often fall for it, but you’re trying not to. But he’s still grinning at you, which is mildly infuriating, like an itch you can’t quite reach.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says. You raise a brow. “Are we just going to stare at each other, or are we going to finish this? I’d like to get something to eat, and half the mess hall will be closed by the time we’re done,”

“Then hit me,” you return. “Finish it,”

He lets a breath escape him in what seems like a chuckle. You try to ignore it. “Why don’t you hit me, huh? Why do I have to do all the work?”

“Because when you swing, your balance is off. Makes you easier to topple,”

“You’re a quick learner,”

He rushes you then, throwing a right hook that would most certainly hurt if it were to connect with your jaw. You angle your head back at the right moment, using his forward momentum against him. You slip behind him, spinning on your heel. Before you can regret it, you send a hard kick into his back. The satisfaction rises in your throat when he stumbles. He turns to face you. The sunset is peeking at you over his head. You smile. He laughs as he swings again, and you duck beneath the fist hurtling at your nose. He grunts when he takes a punch to the kidney, but you doubt it even hurt that much. It’s a dance of fists and feet, attempting to land a single blow on the other. You can see the sheen of sweat on his brow, something you try to ignore. If you think about it too long, you’ll be face down in the dirt below. You throw a punch, one that lands hard against the smooth planes of his cheek. You worry it will bruise. You push it down. When you’d first started this, he didn’t care if you bruised. He said it would motivate you to do better.

Use everything to your advantage, even losses, he’d said.

Four hours. Within four hours you had managed to lose every fight against Leon you’d started. They didn’t even last that long, so there was no telling exactly how many you’d lost. A kick to the back of your knees sends you down this time, his forearm coming to rest around your throat. His labored breath is hot against the shell of your ear.

“Yield,” he says. The anger in you is too much.

“Fuck you,” you say, ramming your elbow into his ribs. He grunts, the wave of breath cascading over your shoulder. It gives you enough of an edge to wriggle out of his grasp.

You swing with abandon now, anger and frustration and exhaustion haunting your body and movements like a poltergeist. It’s only a matter of moments before your back is on the ground and his boot is pressing into your chest.

“Yield,” he says again. You grit your teeth, feeling tears resting in your eyes. You will not cry in front of him. With anger and resentment, you hammer your palm into his leg twice, signifying your yield. He relents, allowing you to stand.

“You let your anger get the best of you,” he says, turning you forcefully to dust the dirt from your back. “It makes you sloppy,”

“I’ll show you sloppy,” you say, stepping away from him. He laughs.

“I’m serious,” he says, schooling his features as you look at him. “You need to stamp it out or use it to your advantage,”

“I don’t know how to do that,” you say. Your voice is hoarse from the lump in your throat. Defeat weighs heavy on your bones.

“You will learn,” he promises. “Use everything to your advantage,”

The punch to the jaw is a shock to the system. It wakes you up in a way. You feel that anger coming back, that refusal to accept defeat. With a breath, you swing your leg up, landing a solid kick to his side that knocks the wind out of him. Taking hold of the moment, you land a right hook to his face, which causes him to stumble. You can hardly believe your eyes when he falls to the ground. You stand above him, triumphant.

“Yield,” you say. You’re not even pinning him, just sort of hovering near him, hands on your hips.

He’s grinning at you. It’s not teasing, it’s not to get a rise out of you. It’s the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen on him. Without a word, he taps out. Two hard beats against the ground are like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. Even in your exhaustion, you can’t help but thrust your fists in the air in celebration.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, extending your hand to him to help him up. “I actually won,”

When he’s standing in front of you, half drenched in sweat and smiling at you with so much pride, it’s hard to deny how beautiful he is. Constructed by the gods, you might say if he ever asked. You’re laughing, cackling actually, and he grips the sides of your head as he laughs with you. Your nose is bleeding, you can taste the rust on your lips. He brings your forehead to his, celebrating with you even though this was definitely a blow to his ego. 

After a few moments of bliss, you realize how close you are and how unprofessional it looks, and you back away. You’re both still grinning as he unwraps his knuckles.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” he teases, dropping the wrappings into the trash. The sun has nearly fully set. “You’re not the heavyweight champion or anything,”

“But, damn, don’t I feel like it,” you muse, smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt. He shoves your shoulder.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he says, grabbing your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is.

The mess hall is practically empty when you arrive, save for a few stragglers and the staff. Your usual seats are open, which is a relief. You feel like you can’t breathe when you set your tray down on the table. Leon sits beside you, like he always does, knocking his shoulder into yours.

“You have not won the war,” he teases. You roll your eyes. “Tomorrow night, you’re going down,”

“Who knows?” you return, sinking your teeth into a hard roll. “Maybe this is the start of your losing streak,”

He grins, stealing a piece of broccoli from your tray. In response, you shove the tray his way, a silent gesture to allow him as many as he would like.

You hate it here. It’s hard and trying, and it often makes you want to run away and live in the woods. But Leon makes it passable. Sometimes, after a particularly hard day, all you want to do is hit him. The thought brings comfort to you, settles it over your bones like a warm blanket. It makes your relationship with him strange, sure, but it works somehow. You hit him, he hits you, you get dinner, and the world can turn again. You don’t remember the last time someone had this effect on you, especially in this way.

Sometimes you wonder, on the days where the woods look like your best option, if he would come with you. Leon doesn’t like it here either, but he’s good at it. He’s good at following orders, he’s good with sparring, he doesn’t lose. He’s the star pupil if you’ve ever seen one. But there’s a part of you that thinks he might follow you. Maybe it would be under the guise of protecting you against bears and other woodland fauna, but you think he might just like an escape. Maybe he would go with simply because it was you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, knocking his shoulder into yours again. You look at him through your lashes.

“What comes after?” you wonder aloud. He quirks a brow, asking for elaboration. “When we leave? When I am no longer allowed to conquer you?”

He laughs at this. “I wouldn’t go that far,”

“I am David, you were my Goliath,” you say. He shakes his head.

“I don’t know what comes after,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to knock you on your ass every now and then,”

Something brightens in your chest. “A noble cause,”

“I’m serious,” he says. Your smile falters for a moment. “I think we’ll figure it out. One day, we won’t have to bruise each other anymore,”

“Maybe I’m only doing it to get your attention,” you tease.

“It’s working,”

The statement makes your cheeks flush. “Don’t get sentimental on me now. There’s no place for that kind of talk here,”

He laughs. “You sound like Krauser,”

“Take that back,” you grin. He shrugs, then laughs when you playfully hit his shoulder. He looks around for a moment, gauging your surroundings.

“I meant it,” he says after a while. You look at him. “That we could make it work. Guess I’m sentimental when it comes to you,”

You roll your eyes. “You say that like you’re about to confess your love for me, Kennedy,”

He laughs, a real laugh that rumbles in his chest and warms your flesh. You like when he laughs like this, and you like it even more when you’re the one who causes it.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asks. His head is bent toward you, closing you into his space. He smells like dirt and cedar, a scent that you would let choke you.

It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were anywhere else, anyone else. But you’re not. You’re you and he’s him, and you’re stuck somewhere that bleeds the love out of you one punch at a time. If you were in a coffee shop on a dreary street with a warm mug in your hands to unfreeze them from the rain, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. It would be a wonderful thing.

“Here?” you say. “With me? Yes, that would be a bad thing,”

He grins at you. “Then I’m not confessing my love for you,” he says. “But if we were in the woods somewhere, lost and wandering, I would,”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “In this hypothetical situation, lost in the woods and confessing love, I would welcome your confession,”

The conversation dies with that. You know your days will continue, the secret dream of the woods stuck in your heart somewhere. You refuse to allow that to be beaten out of you. You would spend your life trying to reach whatever woodland he dreamt up.

He walks you back to your bunks, like he always does. There’s something lingering between you, but it’s not a fire worth stoking, not now. His smiles are easy, his jokes even easier, and you allow things to continue as normal. That seems easier.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, voice soft and sweet and low. You let it wash over you. You grin.

“Only if you’re prepared to lose again,” you tease. He laughs, a low whisper of air.

And he kisses you, soft and sweet like honey on a sugar roll. Plush against him, you feel like putty, ready to be molded to do whatever he could ever need. When he pulls away, he lingers in your orbit for a moment. Your eyes remain closed, just standing in the feel of him.

“I will not be losing tomorrow,” he says. “I won’t go easy on you,”

With that, he’s gone. He’s never gone easy on you, so it’s not much of a threat. But that doesn’t mean he’s never soft. He’s always soft for you.

[thisismeracing]

Cherry | MS47

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her)

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: smut (no plot, just face-sitting smut)

Warnings: not proofread; graphic description of sex; oral (fem receiving); face sitting; mentions of food; +18 (minors DNI);

Summary: Mick has an idea while lying in bed during a lazy weekend, and Yn is more than ready to oblige.

A/n: Every piece I write here it's a new experience, so your feedback, comments, and asks are more than welcome. *mwah* 🤍

Based on this request. I owned you guys a face-sitting smut after mentioning it on rosy cheeks, salty hair, and warm bodies, but not detailing it further. So here you go! ❤️‍🔥

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It was a Saturday afternoon, the sun was bright, while the wind was cold, so the weather felt just perfect to enjoy a lazy day in bed. And that was exactly what Mick and Yn were doing, relishing the match of the ideal temperature with a day off work. 

Yn’s record player, a gift she got from Mick to celebrate their first anniversary, was rolling a red vinyl on its plate. Lana del Rey’s voice was over the room, along with the gushes of wind from the open window. Mick was lying beside her, bare chest rising and falling with each calm breath he took, messy blonde hair around his head like a halo, and ocean-blue eyes observing Yn. 

“We should go to Brazil next vacation, perfect weather, great food, nice people,” Yn states munching on her cherry, there’s another between her fingers, and she turns her head to face Mick just in time for him to watch her pop it inside her mouth. He watches her parted lips and how some of the moisture from the fruit paints them a clear red. 

She looked just about perfect, wearing nothing but one of his oversized shirts, makeup-free face, braids up in a bun, and big brown eyes curiously waiting for him. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Mick voiced, eyes still glued on how Yn’s mouth was working the cherries. 

Oh, how sweet.

“You want some?” Yn asks, eyebrows jutting together in a sign of confusion.

You’re staring, Mick chided himself in silence. 

“It depends,” he smirks. Yn stops chewing, and now her whole body was directed towards his. It was her silent sign that she was waiting for his answer. “I want something, but not the cherries.” 

“Oh,” a small gasp passed between her lips, and Mick’s smile grew.

“I wanted to try something,” he signs with his hands, and it’s just a second before Yn is sitting on top of him, the bowl of cherries now forgotten somewhere between the mess of blankets. Mick’s hands find their way to Yn’s waist, exploring her delicious skin and then dipping under the shirt only to realize she’s, in fact, not wearing anything under it. 

“What is it?” 

“Huh?” Mick questions, dazed by the way her body feels on top of his, how pretty she looks. 

“What is it you wanted to try, babe.”  She explains.

His blue eyes search for hers as they get ready to read any sign of discomfort or doubt with his suggestion. Not that what he would suggest was too adventurous. He was used to giving her oral on a daily basis or whenever they were together and had sex, but they never tried the whole sitting thing. He did not really know what Yn would think about it, but if their conversations and how comfortable they were around each other were any indication, he thought that there was a chance for a positive answer. 

Still, Mick was a cautious guy. He was an attentive lover, and he wanted nothing more than to see his girlfriend satisfied and comfortable in all ways, sexually, physically, and mentally, so communicating everything was part of this process. 

“I wanted you to sit on my face,” he blurted without taking his eyes off her. 

He felt when Yn held her breath, eyes growing a tad bigger with surprise, but her body was still on top of his, “Yes!” she sputtered.

Mick chuckled at her reaction, and Yn followed him, face feeling hot just like the rest of her body. 

“Is this something you’ve thought about before?” he asks

“I-” she starts, eyes cast down on his naked chest, nails drawing patterns on his milky skin. “Mmh… You always do those neck exercises when training and I just happen to notice how strong your neck is in comparison to regular people… my mind went there on its own.” Yn confessed. 

Mick did not waste a second before holding her neck and smashing their mouths together in a messy kiss. The movement made Yn lean on top of him, their surface of contact now greater. They moaned and swallowed each other's noises. 

The cold wind moved the curtains blending the noise with Lana’s angelical voice, who was just starting to sing the first accords of “Cherry”.

A touch from your real love it's like heaven taking the place of something evil, and lettin' it burn off from the rush, it echoed through the room just when Mick’s lips found Yn’s sweet spot. He switched between kissing, licking, and eventually biting her neck. Her fingers gripping his golden hair would guide him whenever she felt it was too much, and the assault would leave any marks behind. 

“Will you sit on my face, love?” he asked, innocent face facing her, and dark blue eyes hungry for her final answer, which he knew would be positive, but Mick also knew his girlfriend, knew how much it turned her on when he voiced things. 

The dirtier, the better, she would joke. 

Yn gave him a nod before taking off her oversized shirt and throwing it somewhere on the bedroom floor. Mick’s hand guided one of hers to hold the headboard for support if needed. The other he placed on top of his head, her fingers instantly threading between his soft strands. And then, finally, she easily held her up and brought her down to sit right on his face.

The mere contact of his hot mouth against her wet pussy made Yn shiver. His nose was digging deliciously into her clit, and her head tumbled back when his tongue went out in a lazy lap on her cunt. She felt on her whole body when Mick moaned and opened his mouth wider, eyes closed as if to capture the feeling, tongue drawing figures on her pussy while one of his fingers found her chest and played with her nipples between his fingers.

His other hand found guidance on her waist, but he was just caressing her skin. The placement was more of an encouragement for her to choose the pace. 

And that she did.

Yn pulled his hair and purred when his tongue sank down inside her. She moved her hips just right for his nose to grind on her already puffy clit. Mick moaned again, and Yn pleaded sensually. She was full-on riding his face, and he could feel all his blood rushing to his hard cock. 

The scene was way too arousing, the noises Yn was making, the way her body was answering to his touches, her scent, and taste, the background sound blending with her moans and his groans.  His whole face was messily soaked.

When her body started to drift into a bliss state, Mick knew she was close to her climax, so he made space to insert two fingers while keeping his tongue exploring. He thrust the digits inside while taking turns between kissing the underside of her legs and licking her juices and clit. 

He was in awe watching as Yn sinfully chased her orgasm, taking the reigns and using his face, tongue, and fingers without apologies. 

She looked fantastic, especially when she moaned his name along with some incoherent dirty words and let him guide her to the edge. Her body shuddered and jolted before falling forward, painting his face with her cum. Mick observed as her chest rise and fell with ragged breaths, and her legs quivered, still sensitive. 

He had a satisfied smirk on his face when he moved her body to lie beside him on the bed. Yn still had her eyes closed in bliss when Mick licked his lips and gathered some of her juices in his mouth, moaning at her taste. 

“How did you like it?” he asked, and from the way his voice sounded, Yn knew he was smiling smugly. 

“I think we should do it every day.” She pants, still not over all the sensations. 

“I can try and make it happen,” Mick hummed and grinned before dipping his head to kiss her lips. His gentle yet sloppy kiss only seemed to fuel Yn’s desire, and they rolled in bed, ready to try a new position.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mellowpizzapuppy @Dalsuwaha @mickslover @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @crimeshowjunkie @iloveyou3000morgan

[soraviie]

tugging at his hair.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ navigation

━ about: angst, fluff, (themes of) smut, the holy trifecta  ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: may or may not have seen Yoongi's insta pic...may or may not be feeling very normal about it

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: Atypically, your boyfriend was actually quite the whiny guy. Friday evening, time - 20:30. Thanks to some uncanny miracle, Namjoon was free this night and you’d been eager to soak up each other’s company. You sat largely silent, tucked into his side and openly staring, merely breathing an infrequent “yeah” and “no way” so he wouldn’t suspect you were not listening. Though you were not listening, catching the jumping cadence of his offended voice only with the tip of your ears. Far too engrossed in admiring the glowing shade of his skin and furiously working cheeks, you felt your mind slip. Never before have you thought that someone resting on the couch, passively aggressively minding on chips could make your heart bleed with love. But everything about Namjoon was soft and comfortable. 

Unwittingly, you zeroed in on the tuft of his hair, poking out from underneath his hoodie. Without fully registering, you trailed your fingers down the hood, pulling it down and proceeded to tug at the back of his hair. Namjoon’s cheeks froze and with mouth full, he glanced at your side. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Don’t know,” you shrugged. “You’re compelling like that.”

He returned back to the chips, completely unperturbed by the looks of it. 

“You need to condition them more,” noting absent-mindedly, you played with whatever strand called your fancy. He rolled his eyes, pinching your bare thigh. 

“Ow!

“You should be whispering sweet nothings in my ear,” he grumbled. “Confess how much you adore me, how hot I am.”

“Right,” you agreed, leaning into his expectant expression. “Your hair is also greasy as fuck. You should shower more.”

Violently, he hurled you into the decorative pillows scrunched from your combined weight, frowning at the easy laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m dating a bully,” he muttered bitterly, yet when you nosed at his neck, he craned it with no small amount of enthusiasm, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“Sure are,” you purred. “Can I play with your greasy hair more? Pretty please?” His eyes lingered, firmly set on the playing movie, but you reckoned his neck did grow increasingly warmer. 

“You’ll do it no matter what I say.” 

“‘Cause you’ve never said “no” to me.”

At that, he heaved a tormented sigh. 

“True. I’m but a lowly servant of love.”

You chuckled, pushing the black hair away from his forehead, messing it up. After a moment, with a barely concealed grin, he offered:

“Maybe now I can card through your leg hair.”

“Not funny,” you glared at him but Namjoon merely sniggered further on. 

“A little funny.”

YOONGI: Your hand was practically aching as it laid listlessly by your side, partially sinking into the plush sofa of his studio. Fully drowned in work, he sat by the monitor, one hand coming to rest by his lips, the other - tinkering with the beat. And his hair - the hair - curled around him like a ring of halo. He drew a heavy sigh, reaching up to muss the chief objects of unease further. Yet you couldn’t just follow the delirious caprice. Yoongi was a guarded man, he liked his personal space and, despite how much you longed for it, you couldn’t just tug at his long hair. The relationship was still fresh and had to be trodden like a melting glacier - nice and easy. Crossing the itching arms over your stomach, you huffed in discontent. 

“What?” he suddenly hummed, and you recoiled, assuming he was blissfully ignorant of your lingering stare. 

“Nothing,” you replied, but his chair turned, a pair of disbelieving eyes falling your way.

“Just say it.”

“I want to tug at your hair,” the sentence practically rushed out as though your body was actively disregarding your own orders. 

“Why don’t you just do it?”

You nibbled with your fingers suddenly feeling rather foolish. 

“I want to be respectful,” you muttered underneath the nose, and a second later, you grasped what sound Yoongi was making. Laughing.

He was laughing at you.

Resting his forehead against the desk, you saw his shoulders wag in muffled glee. 

“You know,” he faced you, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Most couples grope each other the first chance they get.”

“Oh, shut it,” groaning, you sank into the sofa, only for all objections to wither into the ether once Yoongi lowered his head with a soft “come ‘ere”. 

Cautiously, fearing the dream could shatter at the moment’s passing, you made your way to where he sat and with bated breath curled your palm around his fluffy curls, giving them a tender yet generous pull. Something akin to instant relief flooded your system, making the tips of your fingers tingle. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Yoongi wondered, the curve of his smile suggesting he was barely holding himself back from teasing you into oblivion. You tugged at his hair once more, this time harder, and a prolonged moan left his lips, startling you both. 

“Not as much as you, it seems,” you smirked down at him, enjoying how his eyes flitted away from you, self-conscious red dusting his cheeks. 

“Just go for it next time,” he grumbled shyly, making no move to pull away. “Before you give yourself an IBS.”

JIN: He knew what you wanted by the frankly terrifying gleam hidden behind your eye. There was something entirely transfixed passing your expression as you stared at his head with steely determination. Ordinarily, Jin was content with your inexplicable obsession. Rather this than pulling at his cheeks, he reckoned, however, now…

“I won’t pry ________ off of me,” he whined, gazing into a mirror. Even to his completely normal and unscrambled brain, the permed curls resting atop his forehead seemed inviting. Fluffy. Moussed. Reasonably asking to be tugged. 

“Oh, what a torture,” Namjoon dragged aridly, perched in the corner, not unlike a sullen owl. “You have someone to go home to who loves to play with your hair. Poor you.”

Graciously ignoring the seeping sarcasm, JIn breathed a tormented sigh. 

“I know right.”

Namjoon merely rolled his eyes, returning back to his quiet moping. 

When Jin crossed the threshold, he found you immersed in laundry, folding it and turning to greet him home like always.

“Hello!” you exclaimed cheerfully. “How was your da-”

Frightfully, he swallowed. Your expression grew distant and in spite of his jerky movements, your attention never wavered from the top of his head. 

“May I eat at least?” he mewled weakly and you nodded just not before actually thinking about it. 

After eating in peace, the last one he’d get for the evening, Jin slowly trodded to the bedroom, shoulders hung low in premature defeat. On the other side of the door, you were waiting for him already, blinking expectantly from underneath the covers. After a prolonged groan, he obliged your whims and settled his head on your lap. To get it over with. 

Instantly, your fingers delved deep into his curls, tugging and twirling them to your heart’s strange desire. 

“How cute,” you gushed. “So fluffy!”

Jin closed his eyes, trying to suppress the blossoming smile. Perhaps, he didn’t entirely hate being coddled in such a fashion but you didn’t need to know that. Unbeknownst, to him, you were more than aware as, in spite of his efforts to mask the pleased grimace, he failed to conceal the ears burning bright red. 

HOSEOK: “Sorry,” he said, squirming and glancing to the side. “But no.”

Well, no was no and you just had to learn how to live with it. Every time your hand subconsciously reached to grasp a strand of his hair between your fingers, not really meaning anything good or bad, just doing so out of instinct, you reigned it back, forcing the treasonous hand to ultimately fall unused. It may or may not have taken you a whole year to timidly wonder aloud:

“Why don’t you like for me to touch your hair?” 

Hoseok was practically asleep - his voice came crackling from the other side of the bed. 

“It’s nothing personal,” he sighed, cracking one eye open, glancing at your demure expression through the dark. “It’s just…” then he fell silent. Only after a pregnant pause, one long enough for you to assume he’d succumbed to sleep, he casually brushed it off:

“It’s just a preference.”

He rolled on the side and the conversation ended there. 

“Hey, ______________!” Jimin greeted you brightly the second you took a step inside the partially hidden makeup studio. Being nearly four in the morning, filming’s end, sparsely anyone was present and even those few people didn’t bother acknowledging you through the haze of insomnia. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He smirked, all cheek as always. 

“Could ask the same for you. It’s really late.”

You shrugged, enjoying the distraction of easy chatter. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Supposed Hoseok would appreciate some company home.”

“Ah, dear ______________,” Jimin snaked a hand around your shoulder. “Geniuses think alike.”

“Oh no,” you laughed, scurrying away from his treacherous hold. “Don’t try to seduce me into being your fangirl. It won’t happen.”

What was with Jimin and his tenacious will to make himself your bias you did not know and you never quite asked either, although it provided plenty of icebreakers across the slew of accidental meetings. 

“Shame,” he drawled. “Maybe better though. Hoseok would kill me.”

To properly lament the wretched situation, Jimin sighed and reached to rake a hand through his hair. Hair that had been growing out and now sat shining with silver highlights. Unwittingly, your hand jolted by the side of your thigh. 

“You want to touch?” he offered, sporting a grin too devious for your peace of mind. You probably shouldn’t but what’s the big deal…It’s just hair…

Doors to the room sprang open with a great bang and you crossed gazes with Hoseok, instantly swallowing in guilt. With expression previously lax, now growing cloudy, he flitted between you and Jimin. 

“What’s going on?” with narrowed glare, he questioned, voice falling in a carefully curated tone which was, of course, far more menacing. 

“Just waiting for you superstar,” Jimin laughed thinly only to wither when placed underneath Hoseok’s chilling frown. “On second thought, I’ll get home on my lonesome. Goodbye!”

And without giving anyone the time to even blink, Jimin had already disappeared into thin air. No, he was definitely not winning any favours from you.  

The drive back home was spent in fraught silence, with Hoseok’s hands gripping the wheel so tight, every now and then it heaved a maltreated scream. Any minute soon the wrath bubbling underneath his skin would surge like pressurised water out of a geyser. However, Hoseok wasn’t a jealous person, even less when it came to the members. Both were trusted explicitly. Was it stress perhaps? 

Finally, he crumbled. 

“What is it with you and hair?” he sneered sharply. Straight away you bristled at the unspoken accusation. 

“Nothing. Better yet what’s with you? I can’t even talk to Jimin now?”

“You went to him with the one thing, I couldn’t give you,” he countered as the car surged with tension.

“I did not go to him!” you squalled in frustration. “Are you even hearing yourself?!”

“It’s our thing!”

“No, it’s mine! You hate -!”

“It’s because of my ex, okay?!”

An awkward silence settled in the space between you. Red light pooled through the windshield.

“She liked to play with my hair,” he explained, anger abating as it was quickly seized by contrite embarrassment. “And I was afraid that if you’d do it, I would unwillingly think of her. You deserve better than that.” 

You bit your lip to stop the growing smile, simply breathing: “I see.” Then - 

“However, how would I know what you’re thinking?”

He stared ahead, lips thinning identical to yours. 

“Probably wouldn’t,” he sighed. “But I’d feel at blame.”

You hummed and gazed outside the window, still battling the blossoming smile, though it was nothing compared to the warmth churning within your chest. A hand reached for yours and Hoseok guided your fingers towards his hair. It was finer than you realized but nice. It was Hoseok after all. 

“Are you thinking of her?” you gently pondered. 

“Not at all,” he whispered in a breathy voice, eyes briefly falling shut. “You’re the only one for me.”

JIMIN: Instead of happiness, his lips pursed into a thin line, gaze becoming evasive. 

“Thank you, but I’m too tired.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I…I’m not in the mood for sex either.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed forlornly, literally feeling him slip through the cracks of your fingers. “Just…get in, and I’ll take care of you,” in a smaller voice, you added. “Like you do of me.”

Standing in the cracked gap of the bathroom door, he contemplated for a second, before breathing a heavy exhale, one expressing the entire weight of the world. Water sloshed as he got in the bath you drew up, and the window soon was covered by a thick layer of condensation, the deep black night growing matted behind it. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he tossed over the bare shoulder, but you brushed his concerns away. 

“I want to.”

“If it's because what I said -”

“It’s not.”

“- then I was out of line.”

“You were not.”

“I take it back.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But -”

Every time he spoke, his head turned to steal a glimpse of you, perhaps entirely on instinct, the water doused you with a heavy wave, drenching the floor and dumping the rose petals out with it. You grasped his head between your palms, keeping him still at least long enough to apologize sans the pain of his scrutinising gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” you confessed, letting your forehead rest on the back of his neck. “I won’t ever let you feel like taken for granted.” 

He sat unmoving for a long time and you gasped shakily, trying to swallow the budding tears. Well, obviously you would self-sabotage the only good thing in your life. Only naturally at this point in life...

…but this was Jimin and it didn’t matter whether you tucked yourself away in a locked room or an ocean away, he’d extend you the same kindness you were so eager to return. Pulling your arms around his neck, he smiled, laying a tender kiss upon your trembling knuckles. 

“Nothing to forgive,” he muttered. “We were never in the wrong.”

You choked back a sob. Nonetheless, the night was still about him. 

“Right,” you sobered up, pushing him lower in the water. “Just try to relax.”

“Are you planning to kill me?” he teased tiredly. “Besides, it’s a bit difficult given that my cock is just…out here,” he gestured vaguely at his lower part and you chuckled thinly. 

“Nothing new to me. This is just…romantic.”

“Well, you certainly know the befitting aesthetic,” pointedly, he peered across the dozens of scent-free candles littered over every available surface of the bathroom and the pink petals now displayed haphazardly between the bath and the grey mat beside it. 

Pressing a handful of shampoo in his hair, you hissed with mock annoyance: “oh, zip it.”

You kept working in now pleasant silence. Peace was in the house, at least it was until…

His groan was near explicit and watching Jimin throw his head back, nuzzling deeper into your hands, you knew you’d never forget the sight. It didn’t even seem like he’d registered it and soon enough the curiosity overwhelmed you. You rinsed his hair and then scratched lightly across the scalp. Another moan, even longer and somehow so filthy you could swear your entire body flushed. 

“So…” he chuckled, strangely nervous. “Did I just give you a quick way to control my entire nervous system?”

You laid a kiss on his nape and the water rippled from his shudder.

“Sure did.”

The moons now adorning his spine were entirely at fault here or so you insisted, tugging his styled hair between your fingers, occasionally scratching just to see the struggle to keep his eyes open. 

“The stylist is going to kill you,” he warned breathily but Jimin was never more grateful for losing his composure, that day in the bath than he was at this moment. Like grime washed away by a wet towel, your presence eased his worry into the void, while your fingers twirling his hair kept him there. How strange that such a small thing could do so much but then again if it did not, then would Jimin have bought a ring that now laid in his jacket pocket, heavy and searing like the infinite weight of Cosmos.

“Worth it,” you hummed. He couldn’t agree more. 

TAEHYUNG: Frankly, the question of your enjoyment never made it into the equation as before you could even wonder of the idea, Taehyung had shamelessly thrust his head into your lap. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whined by now not needing a verbal order to know what he craved. 

“Too bad,” retorting without so much as an ounce of empathy, he grasped your fingers, bringing them down upon his head. Five minutes later he was snoring on your legs and no amount of force could rouse him, divine or otherwise. It was a language of his, one he talked exclusively with you. 

Trees breezed past the rolling car and sitting still, you watched them blur into wide, rushing lines. At first innocent, his palm intertwined with yours, gaze locked on the road ahead. You hummed. He liked to hold hands, and so did you, only for yours to suddenly be submerged within his dark curls. 

“Seriously?!” you yelped, and he chuckled with no small amount of glee. 

The door smacked behind, or it would have if Taehyung had not been hot on your heels the entire way home. 

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung mumbled, by now so many times it didn’t remotely even sound like a proper sentence. 

“Not accepted,” you sneered, yanking off the jacket, maybe tearing a button or two in the process. “You embarrassed me! And for what?! Some childish caveman display of jealousy?” 

The rest of the insult is expressed through a hardened scowl. As you jostled, enraged and unthinking, to peel off the stifling layers, Taehyung enclosed you into a hug, towering above you, his head lowered into the crook of your neck. 

“Please, don’t be mad at me,” pitifully he muttered, a warm breath ghosting over your collarbone. “Take it out on me but promise you won’t be mad afterwards.”

Without even quite thinking, you wrenched out of his grasp and seized his hair, yanking it harshly towards you. At the back of your mind, panic took root - were you hurting him? Was this not wrong? But Taehyung grew positively limp, pliant, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as his widened eyes tracked your every movement. 

“I’m really angry,” you whispered with a frown. 

“I’m sorry,” uselessly, he whimpered when you grasped at his locks. “It’s just…”

All you have to do is tug again for a high-pitched squeal to rip from the depths of his chest. “Don’t want to lose you.”

Something in the near incoherent way he breathed it, made your heart soften. 

“Why are you crying?” you asked quietly, wiping the stray tear off his cheek. 

Early morning hued the sky pink as you lay beside each other, relishing in the muted stillness of the room. 

“Don’t know,” Taehyung sniffled. “Felt like it.”

You reached to brush his hair and soon enough he was slumbering again - all tears faded into the dawning cold. 

JUNGKOOK: Frankly, you didn’t grasp why in situations such as these the other partner always offered sex. You were far more willing to simply lug this nightstand at Jungkook’s head. Without knocking you cracked open the doors to his gaming room, discerning the explosive sounds of combat swirling around the room. 

“Jungkook, you promised!” you complained and he held out a hand, gaze locked on the game. 

“I’ll be there soon, babe,” he lied in between strangled curses. “Just one more round.”

He’d muttered that already two fruitless hours ago. 

“No, now!” you threatened, coming to stand by his chair, watching the battle unfold, thoroughly unimpressed by it. He offered some incoherent noise that lacked any meaning, and in a flash of swirling annoyance, you yanked at his hair, forcing his eyes to land upside down upon your face. 

“Now.”

Most people would hastily become upset at such a gesture but the little masochist grinned from cheek to cheek, expression gaining a certain twinkle. You groaned at his satisfaction. Couldn’t even playfully torment him. The brat enjoyed it. 

“Okay, folks,” he spoke into the headset, with your hand still firmly latched in his shaggy hair. “It’s been a pleasure, but I’ve got to go.”

Someone hollered in the chat but it went entirely unheard. Pushing the chair away from the desk, he reached to pull your other arm to rest on top of his thundering heart. 

“What’s up, babe?”

For someone who was jerked by the roots of his hair, Jungkook appeared entirely too delighted. 

“I need you -”

“Oh, you need me?”

“To hammer in the nails to the nightstand. Brat,” saying so, your grip on his hair grew harsher. All that came of it was Jungkook’s raspy laughter, eyes briefly fluttering shut and lips carving a sharp line in his dimpled cheeks. 

“Couldn’t you just do it yourself?”

“Well if injury is to happen, I’d prefer it is you, not me.”

“Liar,” he smirked. “You cried when I tripped.”

Traitorous heat snuck its way onto your cheeks. 

“I thought your leg broke,” you muttered before nudging him outside. “Now get to working.”

“Yes, my liege,” he curtsied, proceeding then to wring his tattooed hands around your waist, making you hobble like some sort of overtly humped creature. His nose quickly delved into its reserved spot in the crook of your neck. 

“Always smell so good,” hazily, Jungkook muttered and you shook your head at his antics. 

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the one who's constantly trying to dom me by hair pulling.”

“It’s not a dom thing!”

“Sure, baby,” he rasped, planting a wet kiss against your neck. “Whatever you say. Just remember you now owe me three hair pulls in return.”

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