#anyways nonnie I very much enjoyed this prompt!

[nebulein]

1988 + Zegras youth/young 👀

Heyyoooooo 👀

~~~

"He's like you." Back then, he means.

"Yeah, how?"

"Tight," Jonny says, face screwing up as he pauses, dick halfway inside. "Impatient." He grins as Trevor squirms. "Got the curls, too."

Patrick picks them well.

"That what you did, screw the rookies?" Trevor asks, panting, face resting on Patrick's thigh.

Patrick pats his hair, nudges Trev's mouth back on his cock.

Jonny finally bottoms out. "Captain's privilege."

As if. "Jonny can't resist a pretty, young thing." Never could.

Trevor pops off Pat's dick with a slurp, smirking. "Too bad you're old now."

Jonny laughs, the asshole. Pat hates them both.

~

(send in your own prompt)

[cheolhub]

YOUR MINE AND I TAKE CARE OF WHAT BELONGS TO ME + CHEOL

Also happy cheolhubversary <333 IM NOT YET DONE READING UR POST i just ran as fast as i could here when yew said ure only taking the first 5-10 reqs hajdjdjsk

12:37 a.m. — choi seungcheol

prompt. “you’re mine and i take care of what belongs to me.”

wc. ~1.4k

warnings. established relationship, frat boy!cheol, cheeky!reader, slight possessiveness, choking, pet names [baby, angel], doggy style? (idk, it’s against the door 😅) dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie – MINORS DNI 18+

note. ok so ik i said my limit was 1k for these drabbles, but plz understand i can’t hold back when it comes to cheol. ANYWAY!! kai <3 thank u for sending an ask !! ^^ i know this is kinda… meh,, but i hope u enjoy it a little bit anyway  >< (def not proofread… sorry)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ join the birthday bash!  ࿐ྂ

seungcheol dragging you through a sea of sweaty bodies was the last thing you wanted. 

well, no actually… it’s exactly what you wanted. your plan worked out just the way you knew it would. 

your attempts to get cheol’s attention at the start of the night proved to be futile as he had to make sure tonight’s party was in order. “the frat might get suspended if another one of our parties gets out of control,” he’d said. you could care less about the frat. not with the way your panties were glued to your needy, needy core. “i just gotta make sure everything is okay. just mingle for a bit, ‘kay?”

and you definitely weren’t the happiest when he told you to wait till the night was over, so you did what you do best. 

piss him the fuck off.

by the time the party was in full swing, you’d asked at least 3 of seungcheol’s frat brothers the same question. “this party is so lame,” you’d said through a sad sigh. “can you do something for me?” the question always came out so…suggestively. it was obvious you were plotting something and looking for someone to do the dirty work.

but soonyoung was too drunk to comprehend your words and wonwoo knew the second you’d walked up to him with a frown on your face. he said he’s not getting in between you and seungcheol after the last time he fell for your antics. 

but vernon… vernon was the perfect prospect. he would get the job done perfectly. 

“nonnie,” you pouted, much too pretty for his liking. “will you do me a favor?”

and vernon, ever the sweet angel, replied with, “anything. what’s up?”

you leaned in and ghosted your lips over the shell of his ear, “will you tell cheol that this party fucking sucks?” you felt his body vibrate against yours as he let out a soft laugh. “and tell him that if he doesn’t come fuck me, i’ll find someone that will.”

vernon pulled back and wearily raised an eyebrow at you.

“i’m not actually going to,” you explained through a laugh. “but if i tell him, he’ll know i'm bluffing. but if you tell him while also mentioning you heard this from wonwoo and soonyoung, then… you know. i get what i want and everyone’s happy.” you corrected yourself, “well, i’ll be happy.” 

the thing you love the most about vernon is he doesn’t ask very many questions. you could ask him to help you bury a body and he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye, just do as you ask with a nod and a careless shrug.

he went off and did exactly that. and you didn’t regret making him do it at all.

how could you when seungcheol was seething, practically shoving everyone out of his way to find you after hearing that you needed someone at this shitty party to fuck you? you’ll have to find the loose-lipped vernon later and thank him for relaying the rumor to your busy boyfriend.

honestly, you weren’t expecting him to drop everything– to stop running the party which was the whole reason he left you hanging in the first place– just to pull you into his room, wrap his hand around your throat, and slam you against the door. 

“you’re a little slut,” he chuckles, obviously amused. you smile back at him cheekily, eyes glazing over. “you think i don’t know what you’re up to?”

“what ever do you mean, cheollie?” you ask innocently, still smiling like a devil in disguise.

he leans in, lips ghosting over yours as he asks, “i mean, you really think anyone at this party can fuck you like i do? make you cum like i can?” 

his voice is low and hushed and it’s making your head spin. even over the booming music from outside his door, all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears and his slight pants.

“you’re mine.” he says without a shadow of a doubt. “and i take care of what belongs to me. got that?”

you don’t have a chance to reply when he’s tightening his grip around your throat and smashing his lips against yours. he laughs against your mouth when you let out a choked moan into his, easing his hold on you. 

his free hand finds its way under your skirt, rubbing your cunt through your embarrassingly wet panties. seungcheol moans when he feels it. the lace growing wetter with every movement.

he pulls back, observing your glassy eyes and the way your wet, swollen lips part to emit a whine. his cock can’t help but twitch under the confinement of his jeans. “don’t even need me to prep you, do you, baby?” he breathily asks. “you’re soaking my hand through your panties, poor thing.”

you shake your head fervently, “just need you inside of me. please.”

“i know you do, such a needy baby. going around and telling everyone how you need someone to fuck you.” he coos, fingers catching your clit and rubbing into the sensitive clothed bud. your hands grasp at the hem of his shirt, trying to gyrate your hips for more, but you fail miserably. “impatient, too.” he hums. 

“fuck, cheol, please!” you whine desperately. 

he groans, ripping his hands away from you entirely before spinning you around and pressing your front against the door. you softly gasp as your cheek smooshes against the wooden door.

you hear the clanking of his belt and the zip of his zipper and you can barely contain your excitement. you flatten your palms on the door, arching your back and wiggling your ass in front of him.

he grunts at the sight, flipping your dress up and pulling your panties to the side. he slots his heavy tip between your lips and runs it through your drenched folds.

a mewl erupts in your chest when you finally feel the fat head of his cock slip into you, stretching you open as he pushes himself deeper and deeper till he’s fully sheathed inside of you. he grazes right against your spongy spot and it has your hands clawing at the door. 

seungcheol lets you adjust to the sheer size of him for all but a minute before he’s pulling out and thrusting back into you. 

and when his arm wraps around your middle, fingers diligently rubbing into your clit, you can’t hold the cry back. his name leaves your mouth rather loudly and you’re starting to feel grateful for the rambunctious party. 

his laughs airly, “this what you wanted, baby? wanted to get fucked, yeah?”

pained pleasure shoots through your body with every thrust, every bump to your cervix, every dirty word he grunts into the hot room, and it feels fucking fantastic. you clench around him, velvet walls squeezing him tight as if they’re trying to mold to the shape of him. 

“cheol!” is the only coherent thing that you can get out as his balls lewdly and rapidly slap against your cunt. 

“getting close? you ‘bout ready to cum for me?” he groans, mercilessly driving into you. you probably can’t hear him over the sounds of your moans, so he just rubs circles deeper into your clit, feeling you clamp around his cock for the nth time. 

you sob, a coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter before you jerk. your walls flutter and pulse around him as you let go, creaming his dick just like you’ve wanted to all night long. you practically go limp in his arms, orgasm turning your entire body to jelly. 

he groans, both of his arms now around your middle as he uses you till he reaches his own high. he’s moaning out your name as he shoots his load into your battered cunt, his warmth overflowing inside of you. 

and when he draws out of you, still panting and on a high, he pulls your panties back over your cunt and stands you up straight.

you look breathless and dazed and he can’t help but grin at you.  

“now why don’t we go back downstairs and enjoy the lame party?”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[futurecorps3]

Hi!! I would like to request Kaz x f!reader

I’m so sorry that this is so long and if this isn’t making any sense I can’t explain things for the life of me😭 If you do write this, thank you so much, ily :)

Anyway picture this, a reader who is quite sneaky decides that it would be very funny if she snuck a little note with something like „I live for the way you smile so brightly” into Kaz’s coat when he’s not looking. She manages and when Kaz doesn’t bring it up at all, she sneaks another note in. This continues bcs the reader just thinks Kaz is ignoring it and automatically throwing out the notes without reading them or smth. Over the time the notes get a little bit more brave like „you looked very pretty today, Brekker” and become genuine copmliments. Now i have two ideas how could the ending go. Kaz just casually mentions in a conversations with reader the sweet notes which reader is completely shocked by Or reader finds themselfs curiosly looking around Kaz’s office and stumbles upon a little box on his table. Thinking it’s gonna be some kind of jewelry she opens it and sees ALL the notes she snuck into his coat. But uhoh Kaz steps into the office and his eyes widen when he sees reader standing over the box. Reader gets flustered trying to explain what the fuck was she even doing there but is greeted by Kaz’s silence. He’s embarrased about her now knowing that he has been keeping the little notes since the very beginning ijsksjdks istg I’m going insane

𝐒𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲

Masterlist<3

Summary: The one where Y/N thinks she's being sneaky. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader Warnings: None I think!! Word Count: 2.3K Requested: Yes

A/N: YES YES YES YES I LOVE THIS!!!! I wanted to use the one where he mentions it casually in a conversation but it all led to reader finding out by accident. Tysm nonnie, enjoy, I'm sorry about the huge delay. Tough couple of months, hope u understand and that I did justice to this beautiful prompt, ily2 <3

˚ · • . ° .

It all started as some stupid game. One only Y/N knew about. Everything about it was very silly, the sneaking around, coming up with what the note would say and when to put it inside his coat's pocket. The first time, the girl snuck the neatly folded paper when he excused himself to go to the restroom and left his jacket behind. Easy.

It read 'Your smile lights up the room, Brekker'. Cheesy, untrue and quite simple. She'd bet all her kruge on it, though. That bastard had a wickedly expressive smirk, so his full smile must be as sentimental as his smirk, right? Maybe her note would make him giggle in the confines of his office, maybe Kaz would burn the paper or toss it in the trashcan he so neatly kept under his desk. Truth is, Y/N didn't have an explanation or reason as to why she started all this nonsense.

The prospect of making Kaz angry or laugh even when she wouldn't witness it was probably it. The girl happened to be a sucker for the adrenaline rush of delivering her teasingly sweet notes, too. She got bolder and more creative, even getting the chance to sneak one during a job where she and Kaz had to pair up.

None of the crows knew except for Jesper, and surprisingly, he didn't tease her about it. When he caught her tucking a little pink piece of paper into the inner pocket of his boss' coat, he scoffed with a little smile and downed his whiskey glass.

"What on earth does it say and... why?" Jes smirked as Y/N returned to her seat next to him. "Not relevant, my friend. Don't snitch," "I could never, love." He laughed at his friend's eccentricities and let it slide. Another little secret shared between them wouldn't hurt nobody. Plus, her favorite sharpshooter had plenty to say when he was there to see Kaz discover the notes.

"I'm telling you, he smiled!" "Jesper, I don't care if he did," the girl giggled. She did. She cared a lot. "Kaz Brekker doesn't smile" "He did that weird upside down frown, not quite a smile, but he wasn't exactly displeased." Y/N had to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks by turning around, downing her glass of scotch. Had she really made Kaz smile? Or, somewhat, change that angry expression he seemed to keep, like it was carved carefully and perpetually on the sharp features of his face? There has to be an award to that, she thinks.

That note she remembered; there was a playful banter happening like many times before at the slat between the crows. They were all sitting down at one of the tables after a long day of kicking out pigeons upset because they lost all their money, drinks and giggles shared in a tired, dazed stupor.

"There is no way we could've made it without him. I mean, imagine me trying to carry Nina's dead-weight down two flights of stairs and out of that house." Y/N laughed as they recalled how useful Matthias turned out to be. "He's my favorite" Nina smiled, kissing the Fjerdan's cheek as he smiled proudly with a light red tint on his face (could be from the alcohol but they all knew his girlfriend made him nervous).

"And Inej, dear, I know I'm yours" the grisha teased her friend, pulling her close as the Suli girl smiled, not confirming or denying the allegations. Then Wylan, a bit tipsy and, for some reason defensive, hugged his boyfriend and declared: "Well, Jesper's my favorite," downing his glass. Jesper pulled it aside, pecking his head lovingly. "Inej's mine".

Wylan perked up from his place in Jes' arms with his mouth agape, making everyone break in laughter as the couple argued, their demo-man leaving the table with his boyfriend chasing after him trying not to laugh "Wait, dear I-I'm joking!" "No you were not! Take the couch". After they all calmed down, Matthias finally spoke. "Demjin, tell us, who's your favorite?".

Theatrical silence fell over the group. Kaz's heart sped up a little and Nina could tell, but said nothing. Then, as he scanned the group with a light smirk and his eyes lingered on Y/N for a minute longer, it sped up even more to then recede. "Oh, I know," the heartrender laughed, grabbing her glass to pour more alcohol on it. "You don't, Nina. I don't have favorites. You're all pretty solid assets," he said, voice deep and Y/N wondered how it would sound whispered in her ear.

"That's the closest we're getting to an 'I love you', guys. Hate to break it to you" Inej joked as everyone agreed. After a few more minutes, too tired to keep going, they all went to bed. Kaz woke up the next day to a note on his doorstep that said 'you're my favorite'. It was a bit different from the others he kept in his office. The letter was cursive, written in a rush on a slightly yellow piece of paper. Black ink.

"You plan on ever telling her?" A voice came from his side. Jesper stood, still in his white sleep shirt and trousers. "No one makes you smile. You should tell her, you know, at least." He was greeted by his boss's silence and the sound of his door closing.

Now, of course he knew. In fact, he figured it out after the fourth note or so, but Y/N didn't need to know that. Selfishly, he had been keeping that weird aching in his chest the girl brought all to himself for almost a year and it was getting tiring. Until he figured it out. He just hoped, to anyone who was willing to listen, that the notes weren't some joke for her.

He hoped that all those nights they spent enjoying the silence, the conversations where he'd let the wounded boy talk instead of the bastard of the barrel and she would listen attentively, almost lovingly, meant something to her. And that the notes were her way of saying 'I'm here and I'm not planning on leaving anytime soon'.

Y/N knew the game she came up with ended up being a breath of fresh air for all the compressed feelings she had for the boy. She had no problem with it. In the end, she was telling him every single thought that crossed her mind when those icy blue eyes turned into warmth when they were alone and he let his guard down. The things she knew she'd never say to Kaz's face.

Or so she thought.

It was a big coincidence, like a butterfly effect. Y/N came back from one of her many investigations (a trip to the Geldstraat to gather some information) and was walking up the stairs to Kaz's office to tell him what he found out. "Turns out you were right, he has two kids" she began, entering to an empty room. She should've left, see if he was in his room or downstairs watching the tables. Yet she didn't leave. Instead, with a heavy sigh, she sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

It gave off more of the energy from a studio rather than an office. He seemed to appreciate neatness, from the bookshelves with books arranged alphabetically to the candles placed in the appropriate places so the room could be lit perfectly at night. So, of course, she was going to notice the rectangular red box sitting messily on top of a stack of papers right in front of her.

Again, would've, could've, should've stayed in the chair. She got up and peeked. A shock ran through her body, suddenly feeling so very cold she almost turned to see if the window was open. There sat all of her notes, some a bit more used, probably from him folding and unfolding them several times. At the top was the one she sneaked just that morning; "I sometimes wonder if you think about me just as much as I do. Probably not. Have a good day, though".

A million questions running through her head. Why was he keeping them? Did he know she sent them? And most importantly, why was she so stupid!? Y/N could've just... not! Just not write those stupid notes like she had some stupid teenage crush on stupid Kaz and keep her stupid feelings to her stupid self. But no. She always had to be too much, huh? Her words and emotions spilled out of her like a river. The thing was so big it showed over her wrist.

The creek of the door. She was so inside her head she didn't hear Kaz's steps. Shit. Shit. Shit. Hoping it was her imagination playing tricks on her, she turned around. Hope died and there stood Kaz Brekker, wide-eyed and pale as a corpse. She felt like she had to say something and saints she tried, but the knot on her throat only let a choked, unintelligible sound.

It could've been hours, really. Both of them just stared at each other. Kaz was so unbelievably embarrassed he wanted to ask Jesper to just shoot him in the head to end his suffering, begging on his knees for someone to come and help him. He was never this careless, not with things like the notes. He left them out, going through them for the fourth time that week, to get a drink downstairs. How did he miss Y/N walking through the door?

"Kaz I was just here t-to uhm tell you what I found out on G-Garson. I promise I didn't mean to snoop around l-like I wasn't looking through your stuff. A-anyway who a-are these from? They're very swe-" "You don't have to pretend, Y/N."

He knew. A new dread consumed her, and she dropped her eyes to the floor as quick as humanely possible. So stupid. So stupid. "So stupid" "What?" said Kaz, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was keeping in "I'm so stupid, I'm sorry, Kaz. I-I don't know why I wrote those". Was she truly apologising to him, her head bowed in shame? For what? He looked forward to discovering one of those sweet little notes every day, wondering what kind of message she had left him this time.

Hope. He remembered the hope. Maybe he was this upset because the notes would stop now that she knew he knew? His eyes widened even more when he realized Y/N was standing right in front of him, waiting for Kaz to step out of the way so she could escape this torture. "You're right. You shouldn't have. Y-you should've just told me"

"Tell you what, Kaz?" the girl asked, taking a step back and looking straight into his eyes like he was doing. Kaz Rietveld spoke before Brekker could. "Tell me I am your favorite, that I'm on your thoughts nonstop every single fucking day, and that you consider I look lovely even with my hair in my face. If it is true, tell me right up front. I don't think I could stomach it being some crazy game, so please tell me it is real." Perplexed, she stared.

Kaz wanted it to be real, and she knew damn well it was. "You know I don't like games, Brekker. I mean it. All of it. Every single word is just me trying to catch my name in a whisper in your reactions... counting on making you smile, or at least, to temporarily jolt your thoughts from the generally dreary state they seem to be in."

He led a leather hand to grab hers, tangling their fingers with his. The boy couldn't help but notice how beautiful her eyes looked under the candlelight, warm y/e/c welcoming him home. Making him feel at ease in that saint forsaken land, knowing that with her by his side, everything seemed to be just fine.

"Y/N, since you entered my life, I have been acquainted with a new kind of light. Your presence has brought a certain innocence and laughter that I have not known before. Your character is resilient, as if it has been shaped by the hardships of this city. In my eyes, you are the embodiment of light, and I cannot help but find you lovely at all times, too"

It was a love that defied all logic and reasoning, a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space. They had each found in the other a place of serenity, a sanctuary where they could be themselves and forget the chaos of the world outside. With every passing day, their bond grew stronger, until a little piece of heaven was crafted, right there in their midst.

It was their own personal heaven, a place where they could bask in the warmth of knowing glances and brief touches, and where the mere presence of the other was enough to soothe their souls. They had found a love that whispered "I'm here" in the moments when it was necessary, a love that made a home for a broken boy and a shelter for a scarred girl who would go to the ends of the earth for him.

And as they stood there, hand in hand, they knew that they had found something special. They had found a love that was strong enough to weather any storm, a love that would see them through the trials and tribulations of life.

Together with time, they had created a world that was perfect in its imperfection, a world that was full of love, laughter, and joy. And as they gazed into each other's eyes, they knew that they had found their own personal piece of heaven on earth.

˚ · • . ° .

Hi! Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed:)

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

[sebastianswallows]

Hello! Could I offer you a prompt? I often see fics about Ominis experiencing sight for the first time, but how about Slytherin!MC being the one afflicted with a temporary blindness, and now having to rely on Ominis for guidance, 'seeing' the world from his perspective? Maybe as a result of some unruly student's potion experiment? Thank you for your time and work!

Hello, nonny!

Thank you so much for an Ominis prompt! I love to write about this sweetest boy. And sorry this took so long, my dear 💚

Oh my though, I guess I don't read fics with him often enough, because I haven't noticed that many where he experiences sight. Not sure how I'd feel about those, because it... takes away from his character, sort of. I don't know.

Anyway! I have a fluffy little fic for you 😘 Hope you enjoy it!

I wrote it that it was all Garreth's fault, because of course.

— PAIRING: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

She cursed Garreth all the way to the Hospital Wing. The classroom was left in deathly silence after the Gryffindoor’s latest experiment had literally exploded in her face. Professor Sharp seemed… worried, but not very shocked. Clearly, things like that had happened before — especially since Garreth had started studying at Hogwarts. For his part, the boy seemed horribly contrite, or so he sounded as he fretted over her. She suspected at least half of his regret was due to the inevitably harsh detention he had to look forward to — perhaps something even worse, if the damage to her eyes proved permanent.

As she made her way through the castle, leaning on Sebastian and Natty — who both insisted to go with her, the sweethearts — she could think of nothing else. She couldn’t see anything. The last thing she had seen was Garreth’s smouldering cauldron where he was pointing out the way a particular piece of snail shell was melting, and then a great big flash of green, then blackness. She had thought for a moment that she’d fainted, but then she realised her eyes were open. By the time they reached the Nurse, her heart was still pounding at such a frantic rate she thought she was going to be sick.

“Well, she’s blind alright,” said Nurse Blainey after performing a few charms.

“What did you think? That I was lying?!”

“I will wring Garreth’s scrawny little nec—”

“Watch your tongue, Mr Sallow.”

“Can you fix it?” asked Natty in the most politely-frustrated voice she’d ever heard.

There followed a long discussion about what had caused it, which required them to bring Professor Sharp there — who, to his shame, hadn’t exactly been aware of what his students were doing — then Garreth — who also wasn’t sure what had happened with his potion, but he could at least list the ingredients he’d used.

All the while, she waited there in silence, hearing voices all around, footsteps echoing close and far, and tense, worried conversations. The Nurse had placed her in one of the beds in the corner while they decided what to do with her. Natty and Sebastian stayed by her side, quarrelling over what potions they could brew to cure her until she had to tell them to shut up.

By the time classes were done for the day, the Nurse had reached the conclusion that Garreth’s failed experiment, while exceedingly dangerous, would not affect her sight for long. Only a few weeks.

“A few weeks?!”

“Yes, two or three. Four if you’re unlucky.” She could hear the woman shrug.

“What am I supposed to do for three weeks? How can I study? How—”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re not our only blind student. I’m sure Mr Gaunt can be of some help to you during this time.”

She recoiled at hearing it. “I don’t want to be a burden to—”

“Nonsense,” said Sebastian from somewhere behind her. “Ominis would do it happily!”

“I would,” said the boy. A pause followed as everyone else realised he’d entered the room. From the sound of it, he was standing a few feet in front of her.

The Nurse was happy with this arrangement, which meant fewer responsibilities for her. Professor Sharp breathed a sigh of relief, after which he promised to write to her parents and inform them. Sebastian and Natty, meanwhile, were disgustingly supportive, trying all the while to cheer her up. She shunned all of them, and would only go back to the Common Room with Ominis.

“Do you wish to have dinner first?” he asked quietly as they walked out of the Hospital Wing arm in arm.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled. “…Wait, are you?”

Ominis chuckled. “Could send Sebastian out to the kitchens to bring us something… He would do it. Careful, stairs.”

They went down step-by-step, and all through the castle, and after what felt like too long they finally made it to the Slytherin Common Room. She knew she was slowing them down, and Ominis didn’t deny it, but he was supportive the whole way — and not in that fretful, exaggerated, compensatory way Sebastian and Natty were, and not in the anxious manner of Garreth…

If Ominis was worried about her condition, he didn’t show it. As cool and calm as the lake, as sturdy as the rock Hogwarts was built on, he was by her side from the first moment.

The first order of business, while Sebastian fetched them a late dinner, was for her to learn the echolocation spell Ominis used to walk around.

“No, don’t hold it pointing down,” he said as he guided her hand. “Straight forward is better.”

“But what if I stumble onto something?”

“The spell will detect it in time.”

“Well I’m not feeling anything yet…”

“Just… try to cast it harder.”

“Cast it harder? You’re terrible at teaching spells. I want Sebastian back.”

“Yes, well, Sebastian can’t cast it,” mumbled Ominis.

“What can’t I cast?” asked the boy as he dashed into the Common Room.

She could already smell ham and cheese and the salty-sweet aroma of cold sausages. Two plates clinked as Sebastian placed them on the table by the fireplace, where she and Ominis were standing.

“My echolocation spell.”

“Ah yes, can’t cast that,” he said, followed by the soft floof of him plopping on the sofa.

They didn’t make much progress on that first night. His wand was far more accustomed to performing it than hers — but the promise of being able to learn it helped her sleep that night, after an hour or so of crying in fear and anger.

Waking up the next day was disorienting. She felt herself wake, she felt her eyes open, but not seeing anything seemed so… unreal. She nearly panicked all over again. Being in the dungeons, there was no sunlight to feel on her skin to let her know whether it was even morning, but then she heard the other girls shuffling around the room.

Imelda led her to the washroom, and later helped her dress — and for once, she didn’t have a snarky thing to say.

“Must be quite a nightmare,” the girl commented in what she perhaps imagined to be a sympathetic tone. “Can’t imagine flying in this state…”

“Yes, well, thanks Imelda, neither can I…”

She was relieved to hear Ominis’ voice again when she came downstairs.

“Over here!”

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, arms stretched in front of her in what she was sure must’ve been comical.

“You have a distinctive magical echo.”

“Do I…?”

“And Sebastian told me.”

“Morning,” the boy grinned from behind his friend.

Still, Ominis must certainly have been good at detecting where she was, because she felt his hand cup hers within seconds.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“Just followed the sound of your voice,” he smiled.

“It all sounds the same to me…”

“You might think it does now, but eventually you’ll find it’s easy to tell distance by sound… The whole castle has very good acoustics for this sort of thing, in fact.”

“You make it seem so easy,” she smiled, her eyes tearing up at the sheer scope of all she had to learn to just survive the next few weeks.

“I promise you’ll find it easy too,” said Ominis, placing his warm hand on top of hers as she held his arm. “Open fields, now that can be an issue. But inside, here? You’ll get used to it in no time.”

Sebastian followed them for breakfast, but walked at a bit of a distance, letting Ominis explain things. Going to the Great Hall was a bit faster today than going to the dungeons had been the day before. She walked a bit more confidently already…

Breakfast was spent learning more about judging distance by sound.

“Here, now you try,” said Ominis, handing her a jug of pumpkin juice and an empty glass.

He’d just demonstrated how easily she could guess when a cup was close to filling by the sound the liquid made as it was poured — from a deep sound to a high one. She filled it just the right amount.

“That’s very good!”

“Really?” she grinned.

Feeling around the plate with the cutlery was done easily enough, but finding out what each pile of food held relied more on her sense of smell…

“Ah, I… wouldn’t recommend that.”

“What did I just pick up in my spoon?”

“What does it smell like to you?” asked Ominis with a little smile.

“Mashed potatoes…?”

“Well, I just hope you like parsnip porridge.”

And getting food onto her plate presented another difficulty… A few sausages rolled away before she gave up and picked them up with her hands rather than the fork, her knife kept slipping and clanging loudly on the plate whenever she cut into something, and her fingers landed in mustard sauce more than once.

After a little trial and error and a bit more cursing, she finally managed to get something she really liked. She moaned with pleasure, but it was cut short by Sebastian’s giggling.

“Whot?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Nothing,” he said with an obvious smile.

“What did you take?” asked Ominis curiously.

“It’s a seed cake,” she said defensively. “Just a little syrupy, that’s all.”

Sebastian laughed into his fist.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he said again. “Just… always thought you hated spotted dick.”

“Ewww!”

By the time breakfast was over, she was more angry than upset. Ominis considered it an improvement — at least she wasn’t on the verge of crying anymore. He supported her elbow with his hand as they walked out together. When the sounds of students passing by got louder, he felt her clinging to him more.

“Don’t be nervous…”

“Oh,” she said, her hand relaxing, “sorry.”

“It’s not just that,” he chuckled. “I could hear your breathing pick up, and your footsteps too, as if you were stomping on the ground.”

“It’s that obvious?!”

“It is,” he nodded. “For instance, how do you think I feel now?”

She sighed, feeling completely at sea as they walked together to class, in a direction she couldn’t tell, surrounded by noisy students — and Ominis was testing her.

“I don’t know… Calm, I suppose.”

“Why is that?”

“Your voice is low, and your arm is steady, and… and I can hear you smiling when you speak.”

“That’s quite good,” he chuckled.

What Ominis didn’t say was that he also felt worried about her, and worried about how useful he could be in these following weeks, how good of a guide or a teacher… He thought that it was obvious from his clipped tone and his lingering silences, but was glad to be proven wrong.

The first class of the day was, predictably, horrible. They had Charms, and the girl could scarcely follow the instructions on wand movements, had no idea whether the egg she was given had been shrunken and enlarged according to instructions, and was left feeling around for it awkwardly in order to tell where it was.

“How do you even know where to point your wand?” she sighed frustratedly.

“That’s where the echolocation spell will come in useful,” said Ominis from beside her. “It’s not just the direction, but the depth as well, how far something is from you.”

“We have to practice that more,” she grumbled, waving her wand uselessly. “Undercroft, after class.”

They ended up spending every break in their schedule that day in their secret room, with Ominis placing random obstacles in front of her while she tried and tried and… finally succeeded in making her wand cast the spell. It was just before they had to go to dinner.

“I did it!”

“Not bad,” said the boy — and she could hear his voice approaching, could hear his steps resounding in tighter and tighter echoes. “The cast is still pretty weak though…” She could tell he had his hand in front of her wand, judging the strength of the pulse for himself.

“It’s such a strange sensation… I can feel the shape of your hand in mine, through the wand, but it’s…”

“It’s a bit blurred, isn’t it?” he smiled.

“Yes, as if… as if through a fog.”

“Well, I’ve never seen fog,” Ominis chuckled, “but I’ll take your word for it.”

They went to dinner together and this time she walked on her own, holding her own wand in front. She grinned at being able to sense Ominis’ own echolocation spell, like rings on the face of a lake meeting each other.

“Can you feel people’s features with this spell?” she asked quietly as they entered the Great Hall.

“Not particularly… The size of someone, perhaps, but it is not so fine as to tell you what somebody looks like.”

“Can you tell the difference between, for instance, Sebastian and Garreth?”

“Naturally,” he laughed. “Garreth smells of toxic fumes. Sebastian smells of Confringo.”

Although that dinner was still speckled with splashes of sauce and spilt pumpkin juice, each meal got easier as the week progressed. Her echolocation spell, as well, got stronger. She wasn’t exactly confident enough to run through Hogwarts’ halls, but she found it easier to avoid running into people — and not get bumped into either, as her hearing became better at picking up all motions around her.

Attending class was easier too. She soon learned how to take notes on her own, although she wasn’t sure when she’d get the chance to read them. Ominis taught her a neat trick of holding onto the inkwell and use her fingers to precisely dip her quill in it. To tell whether she’d taken enough ink, she could test it on her finger first and see if the tip felt wet.

“You’re sure you don’t want a self-writing quill?” he asked.

“I want it,” she said, but first I want to do this on my own.

Ominis smiled. “And keep track of the parchment too. Find something as a placeholder for where you left off. Don’t want to write on top of what you’ve already written.”

With his guidance, she mastered a fairly simple system of holding onto the parchment with one hand, finger poised on her last line, and then cupping the inkwell with the other before dipping her quill.

What she still had trouble with well into the second week was spellcasting.

“How… just… how?” she hissed, smacking her wand up and down during a particularly troublesome Transfigurations class.

She heard a subtle laugh, and knew that it was Ominis. “Having trouble?”

“How am I expected to transform this damned ferret into a feather duster when the damned thing keeps moving?!”

Ominis had mastered the spell quickly, she thought, as she could hear no more animal squeaks from his side. About half the class had finished, judging by the mix of sounds from satisfied students and ferret trills.

She felt a warmth approach her from the side. Ominis took gentle hold of her wrist.

“Here,” he said, “maintain the location spell, and do the motions of the transfiguration spell from your wrist.”

She tried it a few times, his hand constantly around her wrist.

“Listen to where the animal is too, don’t lose track of him in case he runs away.”

She grit her teeth and frowned, ready to give up, but with Ominis’s help, she finally managed to do it just before the class was done.

“Bloody annoying,” she sighed, dropping her wand to the desk and wiping her sweaty palm on her robes. “Thank you, Ominis,” she mumbled. “Doubt I could’ve done it without you…”

“You could have,” she heard him smile. “Just would’ve taken you longer.”

To help calm her nerves, the boy suggested they go for a walk around the lake.

They walked and walked until the sun set. They could feel it as the air cooled all around them, as the evening grew loud with nightbirds, as the grounds became silent with all the other students gone inside the castle…

It felt strange to walk beside Ominis like that, without a word, without a touch, only the quiet sound of his footsteps in the grass. The water of the lake lapped on the shore beside them in lazy little waves, stirred perhaps by the creatures underneath or the light breeze. It set her senses on fire to feel how different it was to have that large, cold body of water on one side, and the warm shape of Ominis on the other — because she could feel it, could feel every detail. Even the wet earth underfoot and the grass, the dead leaves and dry branches, they all had a scent of their own that filled her mind more than the mere image of them ever could. Although she missed her sight very much, she could not deny that she felt more connected to everything around her in this way…

Her hand reached out and took Ominis’s arm — his right one, where he held his wand. Not even needing to ask, he switched it to the other hand and held her palm in his.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, but from his tone, she could tell he wasn’t worried.

“No,” she said. “Just wanted to feel your hand.”

“Well, there it is,” he chuckled. “Bit clammy… Sorry about that. Always gets that way when I hold my wand too long.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Their fingers interlinked as they kept their slow walk around the edge of the Black Lake. A thought kept swirling in her head, and she was torn between giving voice to it or keeping it to herself. She didn’t know if Ominis could tell, but —

“What’s on your mind?”

— of course he could.

“How did you know?”

“I swear I can hear you thinking sometimes. It’s the same with Sebastian.”

She laughed, but said nothing.

“So?” he asked again. “What is it?”

Her hand tightened slightly around his. “I was wondering if you might seem to the touch the same way you look. The face, I mean, and all that…”

“Ah,” he said, his tone teetering somewhere between amused and nervous, “you want to try to… ‘see me’ with your hands?”

“Could I?” she asked, her face turning slightly toward him as if she could better detect how he was reacting to all of this.

“Only if I could do the same,” said Ominis with a tight smile.

They reached as far around the lake as the grounds permitted and sat together on one large, smooth rock. Beneath them, they could hear the lapping of the water, quiet and gentle, and owls hooting far off in the woods. It felt almost as if she were floating on air, cross-legged, far from the ground, with nothing surrounding her but the cool night.

They tucked their wands in their pockets and fiddled their thumbs, both too timid to start.

“Well, you asked,” said Ominis after a prolonged nibbling of his lips, “so you go first.”

“Alright,” she sighed, her mouth pulled up into a nervous smile.

She stretched her hands before her gently and was almost startled when they reached his chest. His school uniform was much like hers, a little rough, but well tended to. Moving upwards, she reached his neck, and quickly skipped it until she felt the smooth line of his jaw with both her hands. For no reason at all, her eyes closed. Perhaps it felt more peaceful that way…

His chin was delicate and pointed, leading up in soft angles to his ears. Moving inward, her thumbs traced his high cheekbones, his temples, his arched brows, then dipped delicately over his eyes — his were closed as well. She smiled as she tickled the surface of her fingers with his long lashes.

“Well?” asked Ominis. “Is there a resemblance?”

“I think so,” she smiled. “You look the way you feel.”

“Oddly poetic of you,” he chuckled.

Her hands slid slowly down his face, framing his slightly long nose, falling then to his lips, soft and full. She gasped at feeling them, noting things she never realised before: how delicate they were, how defined, and slightly dry… She traced down to his chin again when she felt them part.

“Yes, I suppose that’s you,” she joked. Her giggles filled the tense air around them. She could feel him smile against her fingertips.

“My turn now,” said Ominis.

She squeezed her hands in her lap as she waited, and then the boy surprised her by cupping her face and slowly bringing them together, covering her like a mask.

He felt her from chin to forehead, taking in the full plains of her features, before he began to touch them each in part. He brushed her eyebrows upward, traced the shape of her eyes, ran his finger delicately down her nose to the tip, and brushed his thumb against her lips while his other hand caressed a broad path from her forehead to her jaw. She felt very thoroughly known after this…

They walked back to the castle in silence, hand-in-hand. As they did, she noticed in herself a feeling of… peace, of not caring anymore that she couldn’t see. She missed the colours of everything around, of course, the beams of light, the peaceful glow of the Slytherin dorms, the star-filled sky at night, but she didn’t feel like she lacked anything anymore.

That made it all the more shocking when, three and a half weeks into her blindness, she began to see vague shapes of light. Ominis’ thin face bloomed into a smile when she told him. She could see it in spite of the cloudiness of her vision.

She still used the echolocation spell to get around, and breakfast became easier, but the blending of shapes and colours so overwhelmed her senses that often she would close her eyes when she wished to concentrate.

It was probably for the best, as she fell behind on her coursework and had never gotten to practice reading Braille with Ominis. Her notes, she now could tell, were atrocious, and her fingers were horribly stained even now.

As the days passed, her vision gradually improved, and by the end of the fourth week, she was almost back to normal. Her eyes teared, unused to all the details.

“Come now, no need to cry over it,” said Ominis with an awkward laugh. They were returning from another visit to the Hospital Wing, where the Nurse had checked her progress.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffled. “How could you tell, anyway?”

“You mean aside from your voice being all choked up and your breathing irregular? Just a lucky guess.”

“I’m just feeling… too much, I think.”

Ominis took her hand in his. “I know,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll miss it too.”

And she didn’t need to ask what he meant.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Hiya could you do Harry Crosby + “ if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, i'd say yes. “ “ what about today?” from one of your drabble prompt lists please and thanks 💛

Thank you so much for requesting, Nonnie! I’ve adored these Masters of the Air requests, especially getting to write for Harry my love!! Our favorite navigator 🥰

Quick warning that there is a nonzero chance of historical inaccuracies here, and the timeline may be a little off, but I did actual research for this one y’all! New additions to the ever-growing Useless Knowledge section of my brain: knowing where Lt. Harry Crosby studied for college (he was working on his graduate degree at the University of Iowa when the Pearl Harbor attack occurred; he went back to finish his degree there in 1947 and earned his PhD from Stanford University in 1953!), when and why he joined the Army Air Forces (paused his studies at U of I to enlist after Pearl Harbor), and where he was sent for his training (Mathers Field, California) before being stationed in Idaho, and eventually at East Anglia. Look at me go lol 🤪 Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

a/n: well, that’ll teach me not to try to format my fics on mobile 😂 I guess the Harry fic’s coming out today! Hope you like it Nonnie <3

Masterlist

Just Say Yes

You waited anxiously under the maple tree at the edge of the campus courtyard, fiddling with the worn, creased paper in your hands — Harry’s last letter, telling you that this next visit home would likely be his last before he was transferred to Idaho, and then to who knows where.

I’ll meet you under our tree, pretty girl, the letter had read, Saturday, our usual time?

The tree— the very maple tree you stood in the shade of now— was where you had met often when you were both students at the University of Iowa, studying English. The tradition had started when you were paired up for a project, and Harry asked if you would mind working outside.

“I think better in the fresh air,” he had said, almost apologetically, and you had agreed almost instantly, captivated by the quiet but clearly very smart boy who sat next to you in class.

Even after the project was over and graded, you continued to meet under that tree nearly every day at 2 o’clock after class to compare class notes or exchange feedback on essays.

And after nearly four months of meeting and working together, it was under that tree where Harry Crosby finally asked you out on a date.

Leaning back against the tree, you were jolted out of your trip down memory lane by a familiar voice calling your name.

Grinning, you turned to see Harry strolling towards you, dapper in his dress uniform, one arm raised in greeting, the other cradling a bouquet of tulips— your favorite.

You pushed off from the tree, unable to wait a single second longer, and sprinted to meet him, uncaring of the students staring at the crazy lady running across their campus.

He opened his arms as the distance between you lessened until you crashed into him, burying your head in his chest. He stumbled back a bit, absorbing your momentum, but he was quick to embrace you, quicker still to turn your momentum into a dizzying, joyous twirl, lifting your feet off the ground.

You let out a gleeful laugh as the world spun around you, and pulled him in for a long-overdue kiss once your feet were firmly back on the ground.

After the two of you reluctantly pulled apart, you cupped his face in your hands, drinking him in: lips stained red from your lipstick, hat knocked askew, uniform now more than a little wrinkled, and best of all, those warm brown eyes you had missed so much overflowing with love.

He looked as dapper as ever.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured with a smile, a greeting for your ears only.

It had been so long since you’d heard those words from his lips, and all you could do was blink back the tears that sprang to your eyes as you replied with a simple, tender “Hi.”

Understanding filled his eyes, and he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead and allowing you a moment to compose yourself before the two of you headed back towards your tree.

“Oh!” He said, holding the bouquet out to you as if he just now remembered he had it, “For you, m’lady.”

You took the bouquet, fingering the delicate pink and yellow petals. “They’re beautiful, Harry,” you smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl,” he said, gesturing for you to sit and make yourself comfortable first before he settled next to you in the shade.

“So,” he said, wrapping an arm around you, “Tell me everything. What have I missed? How’d that paper go that you were telling me about?”

You couldn’t help but light up at the mention of your latest paper— your pride and joy, your best work yet if you didn’t say so yourself— and at Harry’s encouraging smile, you rambled on about themes and motifs and parallels, Harry occasionally chiming in with a suggestion that made the connections you had made even clearer.

Despite the plethora of letters you had sent each other, each doing your best to keep the other updated, you and Harry never seemed to run out of things to talk about: the conversation flowed from your latest paper to how Harry had been giving the guys some book recommendations based on your suggestions, to the small bookshop you had taken to visiting, compiling a list of titles for him that you thought he’d enjoy. Harry mentioned that some of his comrades had set up a small library of sorts in the barracks, running on the honor system, but they’d likely need to shut it down soon, with people moving to their more permanent placements.

“Oh that reminds me,” Harry said, digging in his pocket for a moment before triumphantly revealing a scrap of paper with his distinctive scrawl.

“Plenty of the guys are getting letters from their wives and sweethearts,” he said, slipping you the small piece of paper with the address of his next assignment in Boise, “I wanna make sure I’m one of ‘em.”

“Getting letters from your wife, or your sweetheart?” You asked playfully, tucking the slip of paper safely in your pocket.

“Uh.. Well, I mean…” Harry stammered, trying very hard not to think about the small box in his pocket.

“Hey,” you pause to assure him, “I was just kidding.” Under the shade of your tree, you rested your head on his shoulder, looking out at the courtyard. “I know we’re a little young, but…” You took a deep breath, entwining your fingers with his, “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”

You caught the barest hint of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you glanced over to see a small box held out to you.

A box in Harry’s hand that was open to reveal a delicate gold ring.

“What about today?” Harry asked softly, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek.

“I— Harry—” You were speechless, your world zeroing in on that small gold band before realizing that you had been silent for far too long.

You nodded furiously, turning to kiss him before you could even get the words out.

“Is that a—”

Harry’s tentative question was cut short by your lips crashing onto his. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, kissing you back with equal fervor, the ring box left in your lap.

You both eventually pulled away, gasping for air. Harry’s forehead remained pressed to yours, chocolate brown eyes locked on you.

“Was that a yes?” He asked, lips still just barely brushing yours, and you could feel him trying not to smile.

You were an English major. There were a thousand words you could have said, a thousand speeches of acceptance and love and devotion you could have made.

Only one word mattered to you just then.

“Yes.”

[beneathashadytree]

Hii how are you?❤️ I'd like to request prompts 41. and 58. with either Avdol or Polnareff from JJBA. Could you make it so the reader is pregnant or postpartum, and they're not the most confident in their body, which is noticed by the man who wants to show them that they're not any less attractive to him (all of this during a vacation abroad)? I apologize if there are any mistakes but English isn't my first language.

I love your work and I hope the request isn't too much </3

PERFECT - JEAN-PIERRE POLNAREFF X READER

Warnings : reader has twins, mentions of pregnancy, post-partum insecurity and body-image problems, kissing, light nipple play, fingering, this is not proofread, reader is female-bodied but gender-neutral!

Genre : fluffy smut 🫶🏽

Word count : 1.6K words

Additional notes : Hi nonnie, I’m doing alright, thank you for your sweetness! I chose Polnareff for this, since it felt fitting for his personality. However, please take care that I do not write for female readers at all. I haven’t written except for gender-neutral readers in over a year, actually, as that’s what makes me most comfortable. I wrote this with they/them pronouns, though the reader has female anatomy. Hope you like it!💗

Prompts : “This part of you...seems to be very sensitive.” “That’s it, there we go… just like that.”

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“Ma chérie! There you are,” Jean-Pierre exclaimed as he unceremoniously burst into their shared bedroom. “Sorry I took so long. I was putting the twins to bed, when they started crying all over again.”

Without looking up from the night creams they were applying underneath their eyes, they chuckled. “You would think the sounds of the sea from their window would calm them down.”

“Greece doesn’t seem to be to their liking,” their husband sighed dramatically as he flopped onto the bed. “Quite tragic really, when there’s so much to enjoy.”

“Hard for them to enjoy it, when they’ve inherited their strong lungs from you.”

“I’d rather have them loud and healthy any day.” And despite the twins’ wailing at all times of the day and night, they knew that Jean was being honest. After all, he never uttered a word of complaint, and always offered to be the first to help his little angels calm down and see to their needs. If he had it his way, he’d never let his spouse lift a finger.

Humming in agreement, they brushed back their hair for bed, before climbing into their side. With a cheeky grin, Jean-Pierre was quick to lean over them and pull them into his embrace, before peppering their face with loud kisses all over. A sudden burst of laughter escaped them, and his strong arms kept them from wriggling out of his hold.

“There you are,” he said, playfully nipping at their ear. “How I missed hearing that lovely sound.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” they asked, a look of confusion on their face as they half-turned to look at him. Jean had a half-smile on his face, though he looked a little wistful.

“You’ve been a little… forlorn, I guess. I don’t know what it is that’s on your mind, but I do hope you know that you can always share your thoughts with me.”

Sighing, they refused to meet his blue eyes. “They’re silly thoughts, anyways.”

“But nothing is silly when it comes to you!” His voice was earnest as he gave their hips a loving squeeze. “Ma chérie, s’il te plaît. Je veux effacer tous tes problèmes.”

“But this is one you can’t erase, my love.” They smiled sadly as they stared off into the window in front of them. “You can’t exactly bring back my body to the state it was before having the twins, can you?”

He stilled, and for a moment they could swear that they felt him stop breathing altogether—that is, until he inhaled sharply and cursed under his breath. “I should’ve known.”

“Jean—“

“—I should’ve seen the signs. Your avoidance, your hesitance—“

“There was no way you could’ve foreseen this,” they firmly interrupted, gripping his wrist with trembling hands, overwhelmed with their own emotions. “It’s simply how I feel. You can’t control that either. If I find myself unattractive, then that is no one’s problem but mine.”

“But you’re not!” he cried out, “Mon dieu, chérie, do you not know what you do to me?”

Swallowing thickly, they chose to remain quiet. A strangled sound of despair left the Frenchman, before he cursed yet again. After a few seconds of what seemed to be an internal battle of his, he shook his head and pressed a kiss to their temple.

“I can see that no words will comfort you now,” Jean murmured against their skin, “But will you let me show you instead? Exactly how I feel about your body?”

Hesitation was clear on their face for a second, in which he stopped all his ministrations. Then, finally, they said, “Alright.”

“Perfect.” Another sweet kiss fell on their cheek, followed by one at their jaw. “Just relax, will you?”

“I’ll try.” And good as their word, they seemed to untense in his arms.

“That’s it, there we go… just like that.” Jean’s praise sounded like the sweetest thing in the world now. His hand splayed over their stomach began to gently rub circles onto their soft skin, as his kisses trailed a little lower down their neck.

A keen of pleasure escaped them as his lips found that particular spot on their neck that they loved the most, his teeth grazing it and causing them to moan louder at the sensation. After having spent so long without falling into this lovely routine with him, their body had grown quite sensitive—a fact that only grew more apparent as Jean’s hands wandered and tugged their robe completely off their body.

One gloved hand tentatively reached up to their breasts, where their nipples were already growing harder with each kiss. It was rather embarrassing, seeing how their body reacted to him almost instantly. With expertise that only he could’ve had with their body, he groped the softness of their breast, gently squeezing and watching as they gasped at the feeling.

“Does that feel good?” he breathily asked, sucking at their neck and tugging more of those beautiful whines out of them. “You look heavenly when you’re like this in my arms.” Pinching their aching nipple between his fingers, they cried out his name as he tugged just the way they liked it. “Too beautiful when you call for me like that.”

“Don’t tease,” they huffed, gripping his muscular arm for leverage. Jean-Pierre shook his head.

“I’m not teasing you. I’m saying the truth. You really are breathtaking, even more so after you’ve had our twins.” Though his actions were anything but innocent, his words were so full of love that they could feel the sting of tears in their eyes. “You’re radiant.”

Rolling their nipple between his fingers with one final tug, he switched to their other breast to lavish it with the same attention. Clamping their thighs together to hide their growing wetness was futile, as Jean’s other hand teased them open. He drew small, slow circles around their skin, earning a shudder from them as he kept growing closer to where they were aching for him, but never quite giving in to their need.

“Please,” they asked, still a little teary from before, “I want you, Jean.”

“And you’ll always have me, in every way,” he was quick to reassure them, “But I want to spend a little more time loving you before filling you up. Would you like that?”

This time they did not hesitate to nod, and Jean couldn’t hold back the grin at the way they grew more eager for his touch. “Your wish is my command, mon amour.” His other hand left their breasts, only to gently tilt their chin for a proper, hungry kiss. As his warm tongue caressed theirs, and his fingers deftly stroked their chin, his other hand delved between their legs.

They both moaned into the kiss; them at the feeling of his thumb drawing small, fast circles onto their throbbing clit, and him at the feeling of just how wet they were as his index finger traced their dripping entrance.

It felt like their body was on fire, their strings pulled taut as their husband pulled them closer and closer to the edge with his every touch. They could barely even form a thought, let alone do anything but writhe in his arms and pant into their all-consuming kiss.

Jean-Pierre pulled back for a moment, eyes full of want gazing at their hazy ones. As he picked up the pace with his thumb, they began to shift in his embrace, clearly wanting more. “This part of you...seems to be very sensitive.” He chuckled, tapping their clit twice and causing them to cry out. “But I want to make you feel even better. You deserve it, ma belle chérie amour.”

With little warning, he dipped his index finger into their warmth, curling into them in the way he knew they wanted, before a second finger delved into their wetness. He knew every inch of their body like the back of his hand; knew that they would begin to sob with pleasure before he’d even put a third finger in. They were always so sensitive to his touch, so wet for him, and so perfectly tight as their walls fluttered. In fact, he knew…

“You’re close,” he observed, curling his finger even deeper as his thumb circled their clit faster still. “Do you want to cum? I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

“You always make me feel good,” they sighed, tears clinging to their fluttering eyelashes, before their eyes snapped wide open as his fingers pumped inside them faster with an obscene squelching sound. “Oh, fuck!”

They knew they must’ve been drenching the sheets underneath them, but at the moment, with his fingers filling them up so nicely and his mouth seeking theirs again, they couldn’t care less. All they cared about was how incredible it all felt; how in love they were with everything about the only man that could bring them to the precipice of extreme pleasure without even using his cock, while showering them with lovesick praise.

All it took was another stroke to that particularly sensitive spot inside them, and they were cumming all over his long fingers, sobbing his name and babbling words of love as they rode out their high. Jean’s gaze was nothing if not adoring, and the hardness of his cock against their back was more than enough proof—if they weren’t yet convinced by his actions—that he found them intolerably sexy.

That thought alone made them cry all the harder. He was too lovely, really.

“There, there,” he cooed, ever-so-patient with them, though the passion in his eyes never diminished. Jean-Pierre’s lips kissed every inch of skin within his reach, and nipped and teased whenever he liked to see a blooming red mark on their skin. “See? You’re just as stunning when you cum too. A few more rounds and I’ll have you convinced of how perfect you look in every position possible.” His grin was positively wicked now. “We might even use the mirror for extra emphasis.”

“Jean!”

Taglist : @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling

[floral-force]

Hi! I love your work and I have seen that you are looking for Frankie Morales requests. So I'm here.

I was thinking about post break up Frankie and the prompt "i was made to love you." Maybe he fucked up, but they have kid so they have to see each other often and he just can't make himself love somebody else. So maybe getting together again?

ok so fair warning this is very angsty (but it has a happy ending I promise). I was in a mood while writing this, but I'm happy with how it turned out. this was a great way to practice frankie, especially since I love soft!frankie. I hope you enjoy this, nonnie! ♥️

requests are open! send me an ask!

I Was Made to Love You

francisco "catfish" morales x f!reader

summary: Frankie’s mistake cost him your relationship and your love. You remain connected through co-parenting your daughter, but you never forgave him for what he did. Despite it all, something still remains, waiting to be discovered.

words: 2k+

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, infidelity, angst (with a happy ending), soft!frankie, mentions of pregnancy and labor (nothing graphic/detailed), brief mention of sobriety/implied past addiction, mother!reader, I'm bad at titles

read on ao3 | fic masterlist

You got up from your spot on the couch to answer the door. As soon as you opened it, you were greeted with a squeal from your smiling daughter, Isabella. You crouched down and scooped her into your arms with an oof.

“Hmph—Baby girl, you’re getting so big! Mommy won’t be strong enough to hold you soon,” you laughed, running your finger across her small, soft cheek.

She pouted and your breath caught in your throat. She had Frankie’s mouth, and her little pout was nearly identical to his. It always threw you off and reminded you of one of your first dates, back when you were both young and in your mid-twenties. You’d gone to the aquarium together, and he threw that look your way to get you to buy something dumb for him—a goofy fish plushie that made him smile like a dork. You were going to get it anyway, but you couldn’t resist when he gave you that puppy dog face.

Sometimes, in the pictures he sent you of Isabella, she was holding it.

You dated for four years, and he proposed just a month before you showed him a positive pregnancy test. Isabella was definitely not planned, and both of you always thought you’d live a childless life, but something must have changed. Frankie became a different person after you both discussed whether to continue the pregnancy or terminate it and chose to keep it. He’d been sober for a few years at that point and made even more of an effort to stay committed to it.

“For you, and for my little girl,” he’d said, placing a calloused hand on your bump.

“How do you know it’s a girl, Frankie?”

He’d shrugged and gave you that sly smirk you adored. “Just do.”

Frankie was right and made sure you never forgot about. He’d let out a cheer at that appointment, getting a stern glance from you that instantly cracked when you saw how joyful he was. You’d never seen him that happy. It had brought tears to your eyes, and it still did when the memory randomly crossed your mind.

He built her crib, saying he’d tell her one day about how her mom was constantly pulling splinters out of his hands. Frankie read all the books he could. Went to every appointment. Comforted you when everything hurt, got you whatever you were craving, told you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were. Frankie was there the entire time you were in labor, never leaving the room unless you—not the doctor, not the nurses, you—told him to. 

“What if I’m a bad mom?” You’d asked one night, still catching your breath from the orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you.

“Don’t say that,” he’d murmured against your neck, pressing hot kisses into your skin. “You’re the most incredible, beautiful, and caring person I know. You’re going to be a great mom.”

Frankie was a fighter, a protector, and stubborn as hell. You loved him dearly for it, and loved the way he made you feel special and adored. Around others, he was quiet, but you didn’t mind. His hand was always holding yours or on the small of your back. He wasn’t afraid to show you his intense enthusiasm and endless affection for you—not just during your pregnancy, but throughout your relationship. That made it even harder to accept what you saw on his phone that night in December. 

You’d called off the engagement when Isabella was just a month old; she’d been asleep in her crib when you confronted him about the woman who was texting him nudes—and why he was responding. You asked him why it’d been going on since your second trimester, why he did it, how he could hurt you like this. He’d begged for your forgiveness, but it was too late. He sobbed when you told him he had 3 days to pack up his stuff and leave. In an act of mercy, you told him he needed to remain in Isabella’s life. You refused to let your daughter grow up without her father, even if he’d crushed your heart under his boots.

To his credit, Frankie was a man of his word—when it came to Isabella, at least. He always picked her up when he was supposed to, made sure to get a two-bedroom apartment and fill her room with toys and books, and spent as much time as he could with her now before co-parenting became difficult with preschool on the horizon. She had just turned 3, and in the spring, you were going to start looking at programs. 

For now, though, you planted a kiss on her forehead and smiled at her adorable giggle.

“Isabella, why don’t you go up and say hi to your stuffies?” You set her down and she nodded, her eyes twinkling up at you. 

You watched her climb up the stairs, then turned to face Frankie. He’d set her small duffel bag down inside the door, his feet still planted on the cement of your porch. You saw his Adam’s apple bob with a hard swallow, noticed his fists clench. His ratty green shirt complimented the golden skin you used to run your fingers over, the mossy shade one you’d always loved on him. You had a sneaking suspicion this was one of the shirts you’d gifted him all those years ago. He stared at you with big doe eyes, adjusting his navy blue ballcap and disturbing his dark brown hair with a shaking hand.

“Thanks for taking care of her this week,” you said, breaking the tense silence. “I know it was really last minute, but my mom needed me home.”

“Of course,” he replied, that gravelly voice that you used to love hearing whether it was whispered in your ear or moaning it into the night tugging at something within your chest. “Anything for her.”

You nodded and looked at your feet as you rocked back and forth, crossing your arms. Defending yourself from him. There was something brewing inside of him, and it was about to spill over—you could see it in his nervous swallows, the way he cleared his throat, how he shifted and hunched his shoulders forward. It was never good news when he got anxious like this. He always complained about your intuition, but you told Frankie that he was just easy to read. You loved that about him.

He said your name, his voice cracking. You looked up at him, meeting his glassy gaze.

“Listen, I—I—” he groaned and clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. He looked back up at you with watery chestnut eyes, and you inhaled sharply. Goddamn, those eyes. “Fuck, I—I don’t know how to say it.”

“Hey,” you said softly. “Just say it, Frankie.”

He took a deep breath and looked straight into your eyes. “I can’t live without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “You didn’t have this epiphany before you traded pics with that—that—” you shook your head and lowered your voice. “I don’t have the fucking time for this. I’ll see you next week.”

You went to push the door closed, something tightening in your chest—sadness? Anger? Grief? You didn’t want to keep looking at him, you knew that much. Before you could even move it an inch, his large palm slapped against the wood and stopped it. You glared at him and clenched your jaw. 

“Please, listen to me.”

“And why should I?” you spat. 

“Because I love you, dammit!” He raised his voice, something he rarely did. He didn’t even do it when you confronted him that snowy night. Frankie rubbed the back of his neck and his voice wavered when he said your name. “I never stopped loving you.”

You felt your body shaking, your eyes watering. You gripped the edge of the door and looked him dead in the eyes, hoping he could feel the anger radiating off you.

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have broken my fucking heart. You wouldn’t have cheated on your fiancée while she was 20 fucking weeks pregnant.” You felt your lip begin to quiver. You hissed, “I was carrying your goddamn baby while you were fucking her over the phone, Frankie!”

“And I’ll never forgive myself.” He stated. You saw tears slide down his cheeks, both red with emotion. “I think about it every fucking day. I think about you every day.”

You looked up at the doorframe and gazed out at the sunset sky, clouds painted in oranges and reds with splashes of golden yellow. You chuckled in disbelief and put a fist on your hip. “Should’ve thought about that before you got her number at a bar.”

“Do you really think I’d do half the shit I do for you if I didn’t love you?” he snapped, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. The sight of it made one roll down your hot cheek. “I don’t have to come over and fix a leaky pipe or help you negotiate at the dealership. I could just fuckin’ tell you to ask your dad or call a plumber.” 

Frankie sighed and slumped his shoulders forward in defeat. A part of you liked seeing him hurt like this, like you had—but another part of you ached with him, yearned with him. When you remained silent, sniffing and wiping your nose and cheeks with the sleeve of your cardigan, his face broke and he looked exactly as he had three years ago when you’d railed into him. Broken, anxious, uncertain—something Frankie never was.

“Frankly, I don’t think you hate me if you still text me and ask for my help.” Frankie’s lip shook and he rubbed his hand across his scruff-covered jaw. “I think a part of you still loves me, too.”

You clenched your jaw and snapped, “I’m polite with you because of Isa—”

“No, no.” Frankie interjected. He waved his hand and gave you a somber shake of his head as he said your name. “I know you. You can’t hide how you feel, even when Isabella is in your arms.” He chuckled, something sad underneath it. “You never could.”

You hated that he was always fucking right. It made you straighten and purse your lips. “Then what, Frankie? What do we do?”

“I have no damn clue,” he admitted with a shy smile. 

It reminded you of the one he’d given you on your first date. He didn’t know it then, but he’d had your heart from the first smile he sent your way. Boyish and sweet but rugged at the same time, hardened and aged beyond his years. Charming without trying, whether he knew it or not.

“All I know is, I was made to love you.” 

Your sob got caught in your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt tears start to stream down your face like waterfalls. Frankie’s rough thumbs wiped them away, just liked they had so many times before. He still remembered that you loved it when he stroked them across the top of your cheeks, his other fingers gently laying over the lower half of them and gracing along your jaw. You didn’t push him away or ask him to stop. 

Why was he always right? Maybe you were easier to read than you thought. Or, maybe, you were made for Frankie, and he was made for you. You opened your eyes to see his only inches away, the corners of his crinkled with a gentle smile. Those soft lips, that sweet voice speaking your name, those crying eyes—they were yours as much as they were his. That tight string in your chest snapped, and you realized that although you may not forgive him for what he did, you still loved him. And you wanted to start again.

When you nodded and smiled through your tears, Frankie grinned like he had when you found out you were having a girl. Joy at the thought of starting something new and from the thrill of being right about something you doubted. Joy only you could ever spark within him. The thought of that made you warm inside. It would take time, that was for damn sure. But you were willing to try. You were made for this man as much as he was made for you.

reblogs and comments are so appreciated! I love hearing what y'all have to say <3

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taglist:

@hardlystrictlystarwars, @hrtsforpascal @notsosecretspy

[foli-vora]

Hi!! Big congrats on 3k followers - deserved! ♥️ For the celebration, could I please request something fluffy with Marcus Pike, using the prompt: ““you wrote me a song?” For this I’m imagining 3 possible scenarios - either Marcus is a musician (he played bass), reader is the musician, or they’re both musicians in a band together 🥲 Thank you so much!! And congrats again 💗

hello sweet nonnie! thank you so much for your request. this came out much softer than i planned lmao, i hope you enjoy!

for him

marcus pike x gn!reader

word count: 1.9k warnings: the fluffiest of fluffs

Like your day hadn’t been bad enough, the straps of your weekend bag snap only a few metres away from where Marcus stands waiting for you at the entrance to his apartment building, spewing your belongings along the pavement and deepening the scowl already carved into your face.

Your journal doesn’t survive the fall as it bounces free from the bag and hits the ground, the binding giving in and letting loose stray bits of paper everywhere.

They flutter lightly in the air before resting messily around your belongings and you quickly step on a page to stop it flying any further. 

Marcus dives forward to help you, stopping the escape of your water bottle rolling towards the road and sweeping the stray bits of paper back into a semi neat pile before the breeze could carry them away. 

You sigh in exhaustion, crouching down beside him to collect the other odd bits and pieces that had flung themselves out of your bag during its untimely demise.

“It’s not been a good day,” you grumble, stretching to reach the tube of lip balm that had rolled a short distance away. 

Marcus pauses, his dark eyes moving to your face as his brows pull together in sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

The note of concern in his tone warms you sweetly, and the curl of a smile along your lips is a relief after a day of frowning from stress. Leave it to him to chase all things bad away.

“No, seeing you is more than enough.”

His expression of worry gives way to amusement, and he finishes collecting your papers before standing.

“Is that right?”

You grin and follow his lead, leaving your bag safely on the floor before taking each page he patiently holds out to you, taking care to slide them carefully back into your tattered journal — you’d reorganise it later. 

“What’s this?”

You glance at his hands to see what he was unfolding and turning in his hands to get a better look at, and the realisation of what he had in his hold smacks you square in the face.

“I’ll take that—” you hurriedly snatch the paper, feeling it crumple between your fingers in your hurry to get it out of his grasp.

He watches you with a sheen of growing interest, noting the way you angle the paper away from his prying gaze.

“What is it?”

You feel like a deer caught in headlights. Is your embarrassment completely obvious right now? He couldn’t know about it – not yet, anyway. What you had with Marcus… it was still so fresh, you’d only just started staying at each other’s places after a few months together.

There was something different about this relationship.

It felt right.

Maybe it was your hopeless romantic heart desperate for its happily ever after, or the way his beautiful eyes managed to see right to the very core of you when no one else had before, but you were sold. Absolutely head over heels.

Marcus was it for you – you knew it with your whole being. You didn’t want anything to spoil it, or anything to scare him away. 

“It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t believe you. He steps closer, his grin widening when you take a hurried, half step back. 

“Show me,” he coaxes, playfully reaching for it.

“No, really. It’s nothing. It’s not even finished, and it—no, it’s nothing.”

His face softens, the roguish grin fading into something more tender and it shoots straight to the centre of your chest. Your heart weakens as his hands come to wind around your wrists, softly tugging at them until you’re pressed up against him, his face mere inches from yours.

“Please show me?”

Oh god, no.

Not the puppy eyes.

Damn him.

You scowl lightly at him.

“Do those damn eyes work a lot in interrogation, Agent Pike?”

His shoulders lift into a small shrug, the twitch of a grin tugging at his lips, “Maybe.”

“Okay, but don’t – don’t find it weird or anything. It’s not – I don’t…” you struggle to string together a sentence and inwardly frown at yourself, sighing quietly. “It’s a work in progress. I just… I just felt inspired.” 

A small frown works its way between his brows, but he carefully takes it from your hands, his eyes falling to the paper and finding it to be a sheet of music paper, his gaze following along the familiar layout of staves and the hastily scrawled notes along them, with lyrics stretching out beneath.

It’s your recognisable handwriting along the top that catches most of his attention—

For him.

A quick wash of warmth runs along his skin and spreads up his neck. He swears he feels his heart beating in his ears.

“Is this—is this for me?”

You worry your lip between your teeth, watching him study the sheet of paper with the churning of anxiety unsteady in your gut.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly.

It’s the first time you’ve ever shown someone something from you, something delicately crafted and plucked straight from your heart. Yes, you gave your ideas and input freely when it came to the music your band played, but that was a team effort.

This? This was yours.

It was deeply personal on a highly intimate level. You’d never felt this vulnerable before, this open to anyone. It makes you want to shut down; to hastily rebuild those walls you’d built over the many years of failed relationships, the ones Marcus was patiently and carefully dismantling piece by piece.

But you don’t.

Your nails pick at the skin of your fingers as you hold on to the feeling of fear, letting it fill your stomach and run along your nerves in steady waves.

That’s what this is all about, right? Admittedly, you hadn’t felt it a lot during your life, if at all, so surely that’s what love is… throwing yourself into the unknown with the hope of that special someone being there to catch you?

Well this was you, jumping into the abyss, filled with the delicate hope that he’d be there, arms open and ready. You dare not think of what you’d feel if he didn’t.

“You wrote me a song?” He swallows around the growing lump in his throat. “This is… god. I don’t even know what to say.”

His eyes meet yours, and you feel it immediately—

He caught you.

Relief flows over you in a blissful wave and you smile, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Like I said… I was feeling inspired.”

“By what?”

“This… us… you.”

His arms curl around you and this time you step into him easily, letting your front press into his and relishing in the comforting reassurance his embrace provides. Your stomach tightens as you study his face, tracing over the creases in his cheeks as he smiles.

“You’re incredible,” he utters before leaning in and pressing his lips softly against yours, stealing your breath and every last remaining thought with the sweet swipe of his tongue.

—

Marcus is reclined comfortably against the headboard of his bed when you eventually leave his ensuite, the leftover steam built from your shower escaping the bathroom and crawling along his bedroom ceiling as you patter softly towards him, watching as he snaps his book shut and discards it on the nightstand.

His legs and arms open for you the moment you begin to crawl onto the mattress, and you sigh in relief when you eventually find yourself resting against him between his thighs, cradled by his arms.

His chest moves softly against your back as he breathes, his lips coming to press against your temple.

“Did the shower help?”

“Mm,” you hum gently, your muscles deliciously loose from the hot water you had stood in for probably far longer than necessary.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks after a few quiet moments, his fingertips lightly dancing along the warm skin of your forearm as you melt into his hold.

“Of course,”

“Will you play it for me? Please?”

You shift, tilting your head against his chest to look back at him.

“But it’s not finished… and it’s a mess.”

“I‘m sure it’ll be perfect. Please, I — I can’t stop thinking about it… but I know it’s something very personal,” he murmurs, and his hold tightens as his lips meet your forehead, “and I want you to be completely comfortable, so if you don’t want to, please know that I understand, and I’m happy to wait until you are.”

You sigh, unable to stop the bashful smile that pulls at your lips from his ever present tenderness and care for your feelings.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… let me go and grab my guitar.”

“Oh, hold on... would you look at that?”

He shifts away from you, briefly leaning over the edge of the mattress to reach the space below his bed. He pulls your guitar free and holds it up carefully in the warm hue of the lamp light, smiling guiltily at you.

You snort, taking the instrument softly and resting back against him, situating the guitar comfortably across your lap and doing a gentle test strum along the strings.

“What would you have done if I had said no?”

His chuckle melts into your ear, “Probably waited for you to fall asleep and then snuck it back out to the couch. Do you need your sheet?”

“Dork,” you murmur, and you heave one final sigh before running your tongue along your lips and plucking the first few chords. “And no… I’ve played it so much, it’s pretty much ingrained into my mind.”

He’s positive you’re able to feel his heart pick up where your back rests against his chest.

It drums stronger and stronger with each note, the soft lilt of your voice carrying the lyrics to his ears and raw emotion starts to claw at his throat the longer he listens.

It’s beautiful, and it’s all for him. 

Tears sting the back of his eyes and he presses his face into your shoulder, feeling the hot trail of them slide down his cheeks as they escape from his lash line and soak into the fabric of your sleep shirt.

How did he get here? How did he find this?

It doesn’t make any sense.

His luck with relationships was questionable, his past showing that maybe the universe had other plans for him, maybe he wasn’t meant to settle down with a love that made him ache in all the best of ways, and yet, here he is… with you in his lap and playing this music, singing about a love so sweet, he swears it couldn’t possibly be real.

But it is.

It is, because you’re here.

He feels you.

You’re here, right in his arms.

He feels you move, feels your chest as you pace each inhale and exhale around the words falling from your throat. He feels your nerves and sees the overwhelming love that clearly shines in your eyes when you look back at him after letting the notes fade into silence.

He loves you.

God, he loves you so fucking much.

Maybe the universe wasn’t out to get him.

No. It wasn’t out to get him.

Everything that had happened had led him to this moment with you, and he knew in his heart that he’d gladly endure every bitter, painful heartbreak all over again if it led him to you.

It was finally his turn.

He’d found his forever with you.

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @william-butcher, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @the-queen-of-fools, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @h-hxgirl, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx

marcus pike tags: @pedrohoe04, @evyiione, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @fuckoffbard, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @chaoticevilbakugo, @raphaelaisabella, @f*cklife_imdreaminghere,@randomchick546, @jxvipike, @in-for-a-pennyx, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[lovely-showtimes]

hi lovely!!!! your akito pet name piece was so cute <3 can i rq emu airi and shizuku w the same prompt; headcanons of an s/o who uses pet names super often + is really verbally affectionate?? :) thank u for reading dear 🫶🫶🫶

s/o who uses petnames ~ ♡

characters - emu, airi and shizuku.

type - hcs, fluff.

a/n - thank you so much nonnie, i appreciate your kind words a lot! i really love these three, so i am very happy to have a reason to write for them! (i think airi might be a little ooc though, i apologise ^^") i also apologise for each of these being so short!! i hope you enjoy anyway

Absolutely adores your use of petnames on her!

As Emu herself would describe it, it makes her feel all uwahhhhh and thump-thump-thump!

One of her favourite things about getting to see you again is the thought of you using such a nickname on her

Emu sort of picks up your petname habits, and tends to use some of her own on you too, but hers tend to be silly and nonsensical as she thinks of them herself

"Good morning, my dear~!" "Hiii, my sparkley-sparkle!"

(No matter how long you know her for, you never seem to understand exactly what a 'sparkley-sparkle' is)

Airi often finds herself getting strangely flustered whenever you refer to her so affectionately

Especially if you do so in front of others

She loves it though, of course. Greet her enthusiastically with a cute petname and she feels fiercely flustered about it

Airi often tries to "get you back" by throwing a different petname right back at you

Usually you're just amused by her attempts though

Shizuku also adores your use of petnames on her, they make her feel so special

She often uses petnames on you too, much to your surprise

Shizuku's face seems to light up whenever you refer to her so affectionately that you can't help but shower her in verbal affection

And likewise, she does the same for you! When you see each other again after being apart, you two have about five minutes worth of calling each other cute petnames back and forth

You two end up sounding like those stereotypical couples who have really over-the-top and silly sounding petnames for each other

[vasito-de-leche]

🖐🩹 omg your replies- my professional occupation is brainrot so let's goo

(also I wanted to adress how you called me nonnie that's just adorable)

when I said I wanted you to elaborate it was my terrible way of expressing thoughts, I meant to request another oneshot. 👉👈(the whole ordeal could be pretty ironic — maybe we walked up to him in the worst possible moment and its _just_ the situation FMN was afraid of _and_ we are still getting through? We unknowingly proved wrong another layer of his doubts)

Your thoughts are very interesting to read too, that was an insight not only into the character but also into your of... idk, philosophy? about "reader" figure. Taking them into account, I understand that you may not wanna write about said situation as this is not everyone's cup of tea BUT I'd be happy if you were to. Love throwing mentos into the cola and look what'll happen lol

LOT'S of love literally Im yeeting my respect and fascination at you.

OHHHHH, okay okay

then please, when requesting something be clear about it, otherwise I might think it's chitchat! just a simple "hey can I request A or B" or "could you write a continuation of this other post you made?" will do!

and if you'd like me to write about something specific, then also specify what it is you're looking for!

my "philosophy" is that I'm keeping as much as I can about the reader vague so that EVERYONE can enjoy my work and fill in the blanks themselves - unless the prompt I'm given actively requests something specific for the reader

for example, if you ask me for JUST relationship headcanons, then I'll try to think of all possible options to cover as much ground as I can, because that request was vague - I can't specify things about the reader, because there was nothing specified for them. but you can absolutely give me extra details about the situation, the setting, the plot, the AU, the reader's personality/background etc!

in this context (if I'm understanding this ask correctly) you'd like to see a different oneshot in which the reader finds FMN in the middle killing someone and the reader just stays with him anyway?

since you don't specify the reader's stance or thoughts or personality, or why they even chose to stay with him, I can only keep details about the reader vague and focus on FMN's reaction and POV. if you want to read about a reader who is entirely oblivious to FMN's shitty morals, then ask for that! it helps a lot!

hope this helped, I invite you to send your request again while keeping all of this in mind!

[liaromancewriter]

Hey! Loved your fics. Am already halfway through your Maxenna ones already 💕 Would love your HC using prompts from 35 OTP questions: 10. What’s each member flirting style? 13. What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating?21. What articles of clothing do they "borrow" from one another? 29. How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind? 33. What is their sex life like? 35. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship :D

Hi Nonny! I'm so glad you're enjoying my fics, especially Maxenna. I'm so sorry for taking so long to reply. It's been a busy few months, and I've been in a bit of a brain fog. Here goes.

From this OTP Ask list.

10. What’s each member's flirting style?

Ethan: Unintentional flirt but I suppose Subtle Flirting is the closest. He has a dry wit, which can be appealing to some (aka Cassie). When he puts his mind to it, he is very successful, but he also doesn't have the patience for it.

Sienna: She's a mix of Sincere and Polite flirting. She pays attention, active listening, eye contact and compliments. She's all about building deeper connection, but Max brings out her playful side.

Cassie and Max: The twins are very flirty and always have been. It just comes naturally to them (and often gets them into trouble). Their styles are a mix of playful, physical and witty.

13. What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating?

Ethan was surprised by how much Cassie treasured her alone time and quiet time. He always assumed she was an extrovert who needed people around her. But she likes the balance and is happy to stay home and read or watch TV. Cassie was surprised that Ethan enjoys cuddling on the couch (or in bed) and feeling connected physically. Physical touch is one of his love languages.

Max and Sienna knew each other extraordinarily well before they started dating because they had been friends for so many years. As such, there weren't any major surprises. Still, Sienna was surprised by how serious he could be, and seeing him in his world was eye-opening. Max was equally surprised by her stubbornness.

21. What articles of clothing do they "borrow" from one another?

Cassie often borrows Ethan's old tee shirts and refuses to give them back. He thinks she looks better in them anyway. Sienna tends to sleep in Max's shirts when he's traveling. She also borrows his old college hoodies when she's chilling at home.

29. How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

Cassie wasn't allowed to have pets for the longest time because they would run away. But one day, in the distant future, she'll have Watson (who technically belongs to her children). You can read about that here.

Max gets Sienna a Westie for her birthday, which she named Bailey. I did a text fics/edit about that here. Bailey is the sweetest dog. I haven't decided if they will have more pets. They have four kids and busy careers/lives. But I hc that Amelia (the third child) likes animals and will convince her parents to get her a cat.

33. What is their sex life like?

I've answered a few asks about this, so I'm linking the main post here about both pairing's sex life.

35. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

It's so hard to pick one song! My mind is blanking now, so here's a post about their songs.

These are the songs I listen to the most to put me in the mood for their relationship when I'm writing their fics:

Ethan & Cassie:

Labyrinth - Taylor Swift

Sanctuary - Serena Ryder

The Only One - James Blunt

Maxenna:

Me and You - Jake Bugg

Eyes on You - Chase Rice

Unforgettable - Thomas Rhett

Thanks for the ask!

Character Asks: @bluebelle08 @cariantha @crazy-loca-blog @coffeeheartaddict2 @lucy-268 @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Eight/Charley/Rose with "I'll never unsee that" if you're willing. I love these idiots so much

oh, nonny, i love them too. and they are indeed idiots. idiots in love!!! anyway, thank you for this prompt and i hope you enjoy the mess.

as a quick warning: this fic is rated T for the drinking of alcohol, some suggestive flirting, a tentacled man(?), and jack harkness. if any of those things bother you, i apologise!

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

"Do you think he's enjoying that?"

"What, the tentacles?" Rose took a sip of her hypervodka, eyes narrowed over the rim of her glass. How she could put away so much alcohol without so much as a wrinkled nose always baffled Charley. "He certainly looks like he's enjoying it."

“Enjoying what?”

The Doctor materialised behind them, his hands full of three narrow-mouthed beakers that steamed rather menacingly. Their contents were a lurid green: the same colour, or nearly, as the tentacled man—if he was a man—across the bar, Charley realised.

She blanched. But she reached for a beaker anyway.

“The tentacles,” replied Rose, seeming not to notice Charley’s squeamishness. She tossed her drink back immediately, effortlessly, and Charley watched her smooth throat working with a pang at her loveliness. “We were working out whether Jack was enjoying himself or if we ought to stage a rescue.”

Admittedly, Charley’s thinking hadn’t gone quite that far. Rather, she was overwhelmed with a morbid kind of fascination about the creature’s anatomy and how Jack—unflappable though he may be—was coping with it.

Did the tentacle feel soft? Slimy? Did it have those little suckers clustered on its arm—and was it an arm?—like freckles?

The Doctor, meanwhile, was slow to catch on. He seemed more preoccupied with watching Charley as she fussed with her drink, turning it this way and that, holding it up to the light. It was alarmingly opaque.

His full lips twitched as he settled onto a stool. "It is safe, you know," he teased. "I wouldn't poison you, much as you vex me, darling."

Rose giggled into her glass. But Charley poked out her tongue at the pair of them and resolved to take a hefty swallow.

When it passed her lips, the drink tasted sharply, almost overwhelmingly of lemongrass, with a faint bitter aftertaste. It wasn't totally repulsive, she thought to herself. So she steeled herself and swallowed the rest.

When she dropped her chin, she felt both the Doctor and Rose looking at her. Rose was giving her one of those smiles: tongue-touched and a little flirtatious, the kind which so used to catch her off-guard; the Doctor looked rather proud.

"Well done, Charley," he smirked. "I knew you had it in you!"

She felt herself begin to preen before realising how absurd it was to be proud of such a silly thing. She straightened her shoulders and gestured across the bar. "So," she said, sounding only a little squeaky, "what do you think?"

The pair turned to look.

It seemed the situation had progressed somewhat. The man-thing’s tentacle had abandoned Jack's chiseled, square jaw, leaving behind a sequence of bruises that very much answered the sucker question, and it seemed to have moved on—quite a bit lower, in fact. A few of the buttons on Jack’s rumpled Oxford were undone, and the tentacled bloke seemed to be taking full advantage while their mouths remained fused.

"Oh," the Doctor muttered sourly. "Well, I'll never unsee that."

"Trust me, with Jack? You've seen worse," Rose insisted. "Or will have. I dunno." She waved her hand, a little careless gesture. She was always doing that—always making references to things out of sequence. It got worse when she drank. Charley found it extremely endearing. "Either way, seems like he's having a good time. I say we leave him to it."

The Doctor swiveled on his stool, arching a brow and looking Rose full in the face. "Leave him and do what, I wonder."

Now it was Charley's turn to smile, watching with no small amount of amusement as a flush flooded the other woman's cheeks.

Rose never could get used to the Doctor's flirting, or at least, not when it was so open. She was tremendously solid and sure of herself in other ways, but this? It suddenly turned her into a mess of fluttering lashes and unwanted blushes.

She had once privately confessed to Charley that she almost always found the Doctor attractive, though she hadn't met all his past and future forms, but that this Doctor—their Doctor—possessed a different sort of beauty entirely. A kind that tended to undermine her higher functions.

And Charley, though she hated to admit it, could absolutely relate.

Rose's eyes darted to meet hers, and Charley tried—and failed—to hide her grin. She nodded. They were, she smugly felt, the three of them far more interesting to her than any antics Jack could get up to.

TARDIS, she mouthed, slipping her key from where it hung on a chain, nestled in her bra.

"I have a few ideas," Rose said, all pink lips and promising smile. Charley felt like the luckiest woman in the universe. "Let's go home."

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

more lighthearted prompts...

[bmodiwrites]

The smut prompts look so promising. please do this one for Steddie! 'I'm gonna do something very crazy but I know you're gonna love it.'

Oh ho, nonnie - I immediately had a very unclean idea. You guys are in for a treat. There will be smut, so you underage kids DNI!

I'm going to put it behind a read more from the start, just in case! Here we go -

After several hours of keeping his hands to himself, Eddie was more than ready to have Steve sprawled out under him. Not to get him wrong, Eddie loved spending time with the party - now that they were a little older, it didn't feel as much like babysitting, even. As a group, their adventures were endless and the hilarity ensued. Eddie's only complaint stemmed around the fact that they were always around.

And sure, that sounded a lot petty and very immature, but Eddie couldn't help it, he'd been fighting against his baser instincts all day. At first, Eddie appreciated having so many people who cared about him around. The Upside Down left many scars behind - not all of them on the outside, either. While he recovered and got back to normal, Eddie loved the kids' presence and their commitment to not only helping him get better but making him a free man, too. They truly were the best sort of friends to have.

Not to mention the fact that the party's never ending presence helped get him and Steve together to begin with. It started with little quips and comments from Dustin and Max. They threw the occasional "you two would be great together" out into the open like Eddie would ever make sense with Steve Harrington. Their little game was both funny and cruel.

Except, after a while, Eddie started to believe that maybe things could work out between them. Steve's personality was so different from what Eddie always imagined; having so much opportunity to experience it made the shift from attraction to genuine feelings a pretty seamless process.

So, Eddie owed a lot to the little shrimps that looked up to him not just as an adult but someone worth aspiring to be, too. Yet, the selfish, admittedly horny part of himself struggled to continue to exist with such gratitude when Steve was always so tempting.

Take today's adventure for example - Steve invited the entire party over to swim in the pool. That meant Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle would be there, too. It was the usual get together and Eddie was looking forward to it. He probably would've made it through the day without wanting to jump Steve's bones if it weren't for the crop top and short blue shorts his boyfriend decided to wear. At that point, all bets of control were off. From that very first glance, having so many people around was just - mean.

For hours, Steve played the perfect host, catering to everyone's needs and socializing to the best of his ability. He walked around in those short little shorts, each step pulling up the length of the leg's material a little further, flashing Eddie the perfect strip of pale thigh without a care in the world. Never mind the fact that the old Hawkins Athletics crop top showed off the glorious line of hair trailing down Steve's stomach into the waistband of those tiny pants. It would've been obscene if it weren't for the sweet and innocent way he talked to the kids and kept the party moving.

Eddie would've bought the whole act, too - Steve worked hard enough to pull it off. Too bad Eddie knew how sneaky and teasing Steve could be. No one but Eddie saw the way Steve stayed bent over a little extra, or the way he licked his lips before bringing a beer to them. But maybe that was a good thing - Eddie wasn't all that sure he'd be able to rationally fight off anyone else enjoying the view. He tried not to be a jealous person; in his previous relationships, it hadn't been much of a problem, anyway. With Steve, however, Eddie struggled to control the absurd possession that overtook him. It scared him sometimes - how deep his feelings for Steve ran.

Nonetheless, Eddie managed to keep himself together, though just barely, the entire afternoon. If it looked like he was a bit more impatient to see everyone off when the time came, no one commented on it. He showed Dustin and the boys to the door with promises of the newest addition to their campaign the coming week. Eddie even went as far as having a joint with Jonathan, Argyle, and Steve before they bailed to move the party elsewhere for the evening.

Robin and Nancy were the last to leave - Steve and Eddie were the only ones that knew they were together, so the girls were comfortable around them and happy to stick around. It took effort to choke down the sarcastic shit Eddie wanted to spit their way just to get them the fuck out. He reminded himself often that their friendship was not worth making an ass out of himself. Behaving was marginally easier after that.

Finally, after being entirely too patient, Eddie had Steve alone.

Wasting no time at all, Eddie pushed Steve against the door he'd just closed, pinning him to it with the full weight of his body. "You're a tease," Eddie mumbled as he nosed along Steve's chin and cheek. His hands were busy fumbling with the cut off bottom of Steve's shirt, barely skimming the skin there. The tips of his fingers brushed down the flat of Steve's stomach, rubbing and tracing that godforsaken happy trail. By the time Eddie found his way to Steve's lips, he was palming Steve in his shorts, his fingers greedily tracing the shape of him. A tiny spark of satisfaction had him deepening the kiss - feeling Steve harden under his hand made the hours of torture worth it.

They left a trail of clothes behind as they slowly made their way to Steve's bedroom. Though Steve's parents weren't around all that often, Eddie only needed to be walked in on the once to make a 'bedroom only for naked stuff' rule. He kind of liked the anticipation it built up, too. It was a different sort of pleasure getting to unwrap Steve from the clothes that drove him crazy, piece by piece. Eddie took great satisfaction in dropping to his knees to drag down the sexy little shorts Steve probably wore for this very purpose.

Staying where he was, Eddie ran his hands up the length of Steve's thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps in his wake. He marveled at the coarse hair under his palms and moaned loudly when leg deliciously tapered into crotch. Eddie didn't hesitate to wrap his left hand loosely around the base of Steve's cock. He didn't stroke or squeeze, Eddie simply enjoyed the feel of Steve's skin against his own and the weight of him in his hand. It didn't hurt, either, that Steve's hitched into his touch; Eddie was so ready to repay Steve for teasing him that he kept his grip slack, not yet giving in.

For a couple of heated moments, Eddie explored without any intention to rush. His fingers traced the length of Steve's cock, taking in each vein and smooth plane of flesh. It was increasingly difficult to not just dive in and take - the need to be teasing and sultry was quickly diminishing. When control snapped, Eddie didn't hesitate to lean forward and greedily take the head of Steve's cock between his lips. A moan followed the movement; Steve was already leaking in anticipation.

Despite his own desperation, Eddie kept his suckling light. He lapped at the underside, using the tip of his tongue to prod teasingly there. His hand tightened around the base, stroking up in time with the shallow bobs of Eddie's head. Forcing his eyes up, Eddie caught Steve's glance - his slow worship was visibly taking Steve apart.

He had a hand in his hair and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Eddie knew it'd be red and swollen when Steve eventually let it go. The view was obscene and sexy in a way that never stopped surprising him. Eddie moaned around Steve at the thought - sex between them was already fantastic, the prospect of it only getting better made him lose it. In his excitement, Eddie pulled in a deep breath through his nose, then loosened his throat enough to swallow Steve all the way down.

Eddie gave himself over to the rhythmic bobbing of his head for long, sloppy minutes, and probably would've kept it up, too, if it weren't for the three taps he felt on his shoulder. Pulling back immediately, Eddie looked up quick, feeling Steve out. They came up with that signal when Steve failed to vocalize a need early on in their sexual relationship. Though he didn't use it often, Eddie knew to back off immediately.

He got up from his knees, gathering Steve to him. "Okay?" Eddie asked against the skin of Steve's neck as he pressed a kiss there.

Steve shifted in Eddie's arms until they were face to face, their lips inches away from each other. "Yeah, good - so good, Eddie. Too good, even." His cheeks were pink, like the admission did anything other than endear Eddie to him more.

"Noted." Eddie rumbled, smirking at him before leaning in to finally kiss Steve again. The taste of pre-cum and musk was heavy on his tongue; Steve held Eddie's head tight between his hands as he pillaged Eddie's mouth for every last remnant of the salty goodness.

They kissed languidly for a few minutes, breaking away from each other just enough to walk the remaining steps towards the bed. Eddie smiled down at Steve as he worked his way up the mattress so his head could rest on the pillows. Even in moments where Eddie's brain was a red hot haze of lust, Steve's adorable nature broke through, kick starting the obnoxious butterflies in his tummy.

Eddie kicked off his own swim shorts before joining Steve on the bed, shaking all but want and need away. He settled between splayed thighs, sighing when he leaned forward and their chests pressed together. The contrast between their bodies never stopped being sexy. Eddie loved the way Steve's thick chest hair brushed against his relatively hairless pecs. While it'd initially been a surprise, Steve being so hairy, Eddie came to appreciate the way it felt under his fingers and tangled tightly within his grasp.

Now that they were flat and pressed together from head to toe, Eddie's earlier desperation started to crawl back to the surface. He ground his hips down in hopes of a little friction, drawing a moan from them both. Eddie looked up with a smirk and repeated the gesture, just to get a rise out of Steve. It worked, too - strong thighs were quick to wrap around his hips. "Is this payback?" Steve asked through panted breaths.

Ignoring the question for a moment, Eddie buried his face into the gap between Steve's neck and shoulder, peppering the skin there with kisses and sucks. He made his way to the shell of Steve's ear, whispering - "not even close, pretty boy." His teeth nipped at the rounded cartilage before Eddie pulled back entirely. "Flip over for me. I'm gonna do something crazy but I know you're gonna love it."

Steve's eyes were wide as he absorbed those words. His lips looked like they wanted to form around words but none came, just panted breaths. Instead, Steve turned over like he was asked, though he kept his eyes peeled over his shoulder, steadily watching Eddie.

Moving to settle between Steve's thighs again, Eddie took in the view before him. Steve's back was strong, his lats and rotator cuff muscles, especially. They shifted with each of Steve's movements, drawing the eye. There was the slightest curve to the bottom of Steve's spine, making the arch of his back look just a little more pronounced. Which left a supple ass that moved as one and gave way to perfectly toned hamstrings. Steve was a goddamn vision Eddie couldn't wait to binge himself on.

Both hands migrated to Steve's hips, where Eddie squeezed lightly. Steve shifted into the touch, subconsciously spreading his legs a little wider. Smiling, both because Steve was like a big house cat and his boy learned so well, Eddie squeezed there once more. His hands continued their journey after that, sliding around the glorious cheeks of Steve's ass to palm the thick muscle there. Eddie used that grip to make room for his nose to trail down Steve's crack. He teased there for a second, tickling the small hairs Eddie loved so much.

Though Eddie was sure Steve wasn't aware of it, the younger boy was pressing back into him, silently and unconsciously begging for more. Eddie was at the point where denying Steve meant denying himself - an entire day of that made it easy to give in and move past teasing. He gently skated the tip of his thumb around Steve's hole, testing the waters.

When Steve didn't pull away or tell him to back off, Eddie redoubled his efforts. He used one hand to keep Steve's cheeks apart while the other reached around to stroke Steve's leaky cock. The distraction was perfect - Eddie dipped his head down to lightly tongue at the puckered entrance while his hand brought undeniable pleasure.

"Fuck, Eddie! That's - " Steve trailed off when Eddie used the thick part of his tongue to lick a solid stripe across his entrance. His voice trickled into heady gasps and a chant of "Eddie" over and over again.

Little by little, with sharp thrusts of his tongue, and taunting licks around the rim, Eddie opened Steve up to him. He kept his hand firmly around Steve's cock, but Steve's shifts back into Eddie did most of the work. Steve ground back into him, then moved forward onto his elbows when the pleasure became too much. When push came to shove, Eddie couldn't decide whether the taste of him or the thought of Steve fucking himself strung him out more. Whatever the answer was, Eddie felt just as close as Steve seemed to be.

Redoubling his effort, Eddie licked and sucked at Steve's hole desperately. His mouth and chin were covered in his own spit, some of it even dripping down onto the bedsheets below him. It was messy business that Eddie enjoyed thoroughly. In all of their time together, Eddie had yet to see Steve give into something physical with so much reckless abandon.

When Steve announced his impending orgasm, Eddie finally turned some attention to himself. His free hand shot down between his legs to grip his neglected erection - even with his fingers around the base squeezing hard, Eddie almost lost himself. He selflessly waited until Steve shouted his name and painted the sheets below himself sticky white. Just that alone was enough to have him spilling, too. No stroking necessary.

As the world righted itself, Eddie stretched out beside a boneless Steve, pulling him close. Though there was still cum on his hand and spit on his chin, Eddie buried himself into Steve, trying to fill up every curve and crevice with his presence, wanting that skin to skin contact. Eddie would never admit to it, but he was a possessive cuddle-monster, especially where Steve was concerned.

The room stayed quiet while their chests stopped their heaving and breaths leveled out. Eddie marveled at the quiet oxygen-carbon dioxide exchange that always came with the slightest whistle through Steve's nose. He leaned into the comfort it provided and was seconds away from falling asleep when Steve's voice stopped him.

"You were right." Steve's tone was gravely and rough, still hoarse from all the moaning and shouts.

Eddie picked up his head, looking at Steve curiously. "About what, pretty boy?"

Steve snorted out a laugh before turning onto his side so their noses brushed. "I did love that."

[mianmimi]

Cultural misunderstandings + accidentally engaged/married 838 Strordo. Imagine Stephen doing *something* that in sorcerer culture is an overt declaration of love. Suddenly Krowler grumbles a congratulations, pats him on the back, and Sara and Nikolai commend him for his bold proposal and Stephen is like wait what proposal. But then he's like? That Perfect Omega™ wants *me*??? And yes, if this sounds familiar to some, it's kind of like your fic The Scarf which I reread at least once a month 🥰

Holy moly guacamole Nonny! Thank you so much 🥹 It’s been over 4 years since I posted that fic. I’m so happy to know that people are still enjoying it after all this time ❤️ You made my night dear Nonny!!!

And accidental engagements are pretty fun to explore, story wise. So much playful potential and sweetness when the two really do dig each other. I can see Stephen and Mordo both strongly considering marriage but neither wants to be the first to bring it up for fear that the other will be opposed. And maybe the accidental engagement is just what they needed to prompt things along hehehe 😉

For Earth 838…….. hmmmmm. Maybe Stephen visits the Krowler Mordo home and accidentally asks them for Karl’s hand? And Karl readily agrees, all without Stephen knowing?

Let’s say they decide to visit Mordo’s family. Maybe Stephen’s just being a gentleman and decides to serve Mordo everything. They’re going through a door? Stephen opens it. Mordo wants to sit? Stephen pulls out that chair. Mordo mentions being thirsty and hungry? Stephen fixes a drink for him and a plate of food. All of which Mordo doesn’t reject. And Mordo’s family is just staring at him with open mouths. Stephen’s worried he’s done something taboo, until Krowler grumbles a congratulations. Next thing he knows Nikolai is making him promise to permit Karl to visit them anytime he wants and Sara is crying that her only baby is gonna be married.

Stephen’s super confused cause what? Mordo’s getting married? To whom? And in his mind he’s already trying to figure out who he gotta fight 😆😆😆😆 Until Mordo explains that there’s been a misunderstanding. Stephen didn’t mean to propose. He was just being polite. It didn’t mean anything special. Mordo’s family are all flabbergasted. Stephen’s confused as hell and it’s not a feeling he enjoys 🤣 Mordo’s embarrassed over the choas ensuing. Tells Stephen that in the culture of ancient sorcerer families, alphas NEVER EVER serve an omega unless they intend to marry them. It’s very, very strict, meant to secure boundaries and keep intentions clear. Omegas are expected to serve alphas by default. But if an alpha puts themselves in a role of servitude in the presence of an omega’s family….that’s the equivalent of getting on their knees and BEGGING for an engagement. So Stephen doing multiple acts of service/taking care of Mordo/making sure Mordo doesn’t lift a finger, all of it was being interpreted by Mordo’s old school family as Stephen desperately pleading for their approval.

Mordo goes on to apologize for the confusion. Until Stephen stops him and says that he was going to ask anyways and reveals the ring 😍

[gallavictorious]

what about like mickey and geneva crossing paths somehow but don't know each other (i guess before the wedding bc i would guess they would have met at that point) and idk maybe she overhears him say something homophobic and she confronts him and somehow mentions gay jesus and idk. this is 100% inspired by my desire for someone to ask mickey if he knows gay jesus just for him to respond that he knows him biblically lol

Ah, this might just be the most justified desire in the world, nonnie; I salute you! Okay, let's see –

I'm thinking Geneva and a bunch of her friends decide to stage a protest of some kind. Maybe just to raise awareness of the plight of the LGTB+ community in general, or maybe in direct reaction to a store treating gay people less than right... let's be honest, there's a lot of shit happening, so it's not like it'd be hard for them to find a just cause. Brave and resolute they arm themselves with righteousness and march out in the name of their lord and savior, Gay Jesus!

March, as it happens, straight to A Certain Mall – CAN YOU GUESS WHICH? – where A Certain Disgruntled Darling – CAN YOU GUESS WHO? – works. Now, I don't think their protest is aimed at Old Army per se but maybe it happens right outside the store just next to it, and so the Gay Jesus Group and all of their signs and whatever other props they bring kind of spill over to halfway block the entrance to Mickey's workplace?

By rights this should be a case for mall main security, which I assume exists even if I have no idea what the right word for it would be, but let's pretend that they're unsure about how to intervene in a way that doesn't get them into trouble for being homophobic. Maybe their boss is a very anxious and pollitically minded person, highly unsuited for their job? Or just secretly supports what's happening? Either way, mall security does nothing. The protest continues. There's a crowd gathering, some jeering, some curious, and some in silent support. Between that and the protest itself there's not a whole lot of people making their way into Old Army which Concerns the staff working the floor there, and so they send Mickey out to deal with it.

“What's in it for me?” Mickey probably demands, savvy to the fact that this strictly speaking isn't his job, and the fuck does he care if a few hippies stand around chanting whatever so that no one can get in to the store to bother him while he dreams of all the stuff Ian and he can do to and with one another once he gets off work?

I'm not sure what the rest of the staff promise him, but it's good enough that fine, he'll go scare these rainbow kids away. So out he stomps and he immediately identifies Geneva as the ring leader, mostly because it's her holding the megaphon and leading the chants. Our highly questionable hero walks up to her, calling: “Yo! Gonna need you to pack this shit up and get the hell out of here. You're bothering the customers.”

Mickey's scary when he wants to be, that's true, but Geneva ain't no pushoever and she's used to standing up to all sorts of bullies – plus she has the unshakeable zeal of a true believer. She's not backing down, and maybe there's a small part of Mickey that can admire her courage, but a larger part is just really fucking annoyed at these people complicating his workday with this stupid crap.

Sadly (for Mickey) Geneva doesn't give a fig for his annoyance. She stares him right in the eye and launches into a spiel about how the store they're protesting has treated the LGTB+ community in a horrible, horrible way and people need to be made aware of the fact.

Mickey's face wrinkles in disgust. “And what the fuck's whining about it gonna do, huh? Someone insult you 'cause you're gay you beat the shit outta them, or you trash their fucking store to teach them a lesson, but nobody's gonna give a damn about a few signs. Besides, those ugly things” – he indicates the signs – “are boring as hell, you ain't gonna convince people of shit with those.”

(There's an alternative version of this story, I think, wherein Mickey now leaps into a lecture of how to make proper, eye-catching signs, and maybe even leads a little practical workshop in the art of it, because we know he's got an artistic streak. But as amusing as that image is, Mickey ultimately just doesn't care enough about whatever these people are doing to bother, so in this version of the story, that just doesn't happen. Sorry, guys. I cannot be blamed for Mickey not having a whole lot of communal gay spirit.)

Geneva is maybe a little surprised by Mickey's take on the whole thing, but not impressed: “Demanding that we should be interesting to be heard is putting unjust pressure on the victim of systematic oppression and – “

The crowd has followed this entire exchange with varying degrees of cautious interest and now someone – a big, beared man, probably, and likely sporting a MAGA hat too – calls out: “Nobody cares, you fucking dyke! Go suck a dick and maybe you won't be such a bitch.”

Geneva is sadly used to these sort of slurs, and she and her group are more than prepared to defend themselves, but before anyone has a chance to do or say anything, Mickey – whose face has collapsed into irritated disgust – turns around and walks straight up to the shouty bastard and gets right in his stupid face: “Yo, maybe you wanna keep your fat mouth shut, Cheeto-packer, or I'll give you a dick to suck on and I promise you, you gonna fucking choke on it.”

The man stares. The crowd stares. Geneva and the Gay Jesus Group stares too. Mickey, he just stands right there, smiling up at the far taller man; it's that dangerous smile of his, and the beared dude suddenly shows far more sense than his hat would suggest him capable off and walks away without another word.

Unperpetubed, Mickey turns back to the protesters: “So you gonna get out of here or what?”

Geneva isn't quite sure how to respond. She doesn't know what to make of this security guard and his frankly odd and contradictory behavior. “Thank you for shutting him up,” she begins slowly and a little grudgingly. “But we can't just walk away. Gay Jesus taught us – “

“Gay Jesus?” Ah fuck, he should have fucking known, and if he finds out that Ian had anything to do with this, he's going to fucking kill him...

Geneva frowns at his tone. “You know about Gay Jesus?”

Mickey's lips twist into something that's not quite a smile. “Know him biblically,” he offers sardonically, and he takes no small amount of pleasure at the sight of Geneva at an actual loss for words. (Sure, he's only known her for two minutes, but he has this feeling that it's a very rare sight indeed.)

Then he sighs; this has gone on long enough. He picks up his phone and calls his boyfriend (who has the very good sense to pick up almost immediately): “Ay, asshole, can you tell your fucking groupies to go be pains in someone else's ass?”

“... what?”

And Mickey explains while Geneva and her squad yet again stares and then Ian talks to Geneva and of course he doesn't talk her out of protesting – because she is right to to do it, let's not forget – but in the end they reach some sort of compromise that leads to the Gay Jesus Group taking themselves and their signs elsewhere, and Mickey swaggers back into the store, equally pleased and disgruntled. The staff working the floor has followed the entire thing and now they have questions, but Mickey just gives them one forbidding glare and they very hastily return to folding clothes and whatever. The customers start walking in; peace has been restored; all is well.

(And when he comes home that night the whole incident develops into a complicated – but utterly playful, never fear – argument about who owes whom what; does Ian need to make things up to Mickey for starting the whole stupid cult in the first place, or is Mickey in Ian's debt for needing him to resolve the situation? They don't actually reach an agreement on the issue, but I think it's safe to say that both of them feel quite satisfied by the time they eventually fall asleep in each other's arms.)

[cometthespacechinchilla]

Mind if you do nr 12 with Razi and MC,I want to see him flustered and JD being a smartass.

MC = Margot Cavot List of prompts.

I’m 100% in the camp of MC being a cryptid. Personally, I have theorized that she is a hellhound (I know they probably won’t make her one, but until new information is produced this is the hill I stand upon). This one’s a bit long (mainly because dialogue will means 1001 paragraphs).

Anyway, onward!

She really should have taken Mackenzie more seriously when the woman had taken her aside and surreptitiously handed her a pregnancy test.

There’s no way. No fucking way.

She had stuffed it in the drawer where she kept her tampons and pads, knowing Razi wouldn’t look there. She felt fine. There was no weird cravings, no morning sickness, no mood swings, nothing. Sure, she hadn’t had her period in a while, but she had never been regular and the stress of finding out she’s a hellhound and has the ability to set everything on fire and kill people with a stare just fucked her over completely. Three years later and her body still couldn’t figure it out.

However, after no shark week for five months (a record), Margot was starting to get a little worried.

This really isn’t helping my stress, she thought, pacing the bathroom as she waited the agonizing five minutes for the test to figure out whether or not she should be freaking out more. The timer dinged and she picked the test up.

Yes. Definitely more freaking out is in order.

In a daze, she shuffled out of the bathroom and into the living room, where Razi and JD were arguing about the movie they were going to watch tonight. They both stopped as they saw her walk in, face white as paper.

“Margot? Everything all right?” Razi asked.

It was the only thing on her mind, so the only thing that she could think of to say was, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re shitting us,” JD said.

That snapped her shock in half, emotions suddenly skyrocketing. “Does this look like I’m shitting you?” she asked, pointing to the test still in her hand.

“Oh shit,” they said. They glanced at Razi, then back at Margot. “I think you broke him.”

Razi was sitting there, eyes wide and mouth open. Great, I broke the kid’s father.

“While he’s recovering,” JD said, getting back her attention. “I get to be their godparent, right?”

“Over my dead body,” she snapped.

“But they’ll probably have fire powers! And I have fire powers! Who better to teach-”

“JD, can we please wait at least a month for this to process before we start talking about anything to do with my kid and fire?”

“But-”

“JD.”

“Fine,” they sighed, but they quickly recovered their smirk. “Think you’ll have multiples?”

“What?” she asked. She could barely wrap her head around a single kid.

“I mean, you’re part dog, and-”

“JD, I swear, if you do not shut up, I will light hellfire under your ass,” she growled.

“That doesn’t work on me,” they retorted.

She started to push them towards their room. “Fine then, I’ll shift and rip off your face.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Please, I need to talk to him. Alone.”

They gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll just be in here. Not eavesdropping.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Making her way to the couch, she sat herself down next to Razi. “Well…” She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“So we’re- I mean, you- this is-” Not since the disastrous kiss had she seen him this tongue-tied. Knowing he wasn’t sure how to respond either helped calm her a little. Or this could be a disaster, the blind leading the idiot.

“So… what are we going to do about this?” she asked, once his spluttering had subsided.

It took a lot for Razi to blush, but he was in top form now. “What do you want?” he asked, finally looking at her.

She shrugged. “It wasn’t quite how I expected it, but it’s not like we’ve never talked about it. It’s earlier than we planned, but I don’t see why we can’t do this. Besides,” she said, smirking, “now we’d have a legitimate threat for JD.”

“Oh?” he asked, starting to relax.

“We can always give the kid their bedroom, and they can sleep on the couch.”

“Hey!” they yelled, doorway popping open.

“No eavesdropping!” she scolded them.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” they said, slamming it shut again.

“I vote we keep the kid,” she said. “You?”

“I think that will work.” And there was that familiar smirk. “Though I’m going to be busy the next few months trying to fit a new addition in here.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pecking him on the lips. “Master of magic.”

“Yaaaay! We’re keeping the kid!” JD said, suddenly appearing and leaning over the couch. “So can I be their godparent?”

“No.”