#heaven and hell bingo

[holylulusworld]

Signal boost!

heaven and hell signups

when signups open, either use the link below or click here!

[alteregozowie]

“Ahem~” he likes his duck tv shows and phone tho.

Bingo Card:

Wow, Lucifer almost nailed that. He's probably the only one who hates TV, so he's not really going to hold that against anyone, to be fair.

"Wowzers, what a bingo."

[echochqmber]

Prompt: Drunk with Power

Wu Ming follows Xie Lian into the abyss.

@badthingshappenbingo @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen

[the-girl-who-didnt-smile]

This is my little Alastor Ra D. Io Demon bingo card, if anyone was curious.

(all of these are 100% serious thoughts with regards to canon Alastor)

[keenie-bopper]

The king of hell makes an appearance

The lamb smiled sheepishly but also with genuine compassion. "You know I say this all the time... but you and I have become quite the pair after Hell froze over."

"Thanks, Sam."

Keenie had never called the King that name before, and nor has he ever told her that name belonged to him. But for some reason, the nickname felt right... fitting almost. [Bingo Card]

[alpali]

seven minutes in heaven with a drunk suna was not on your bingo card.

But here you were.

Cramped in a small closet with him and the both of you are practically sucking each other’s faces off.

You don’t even remember how it started.

Too intoxicated to care.

Alll you could focus on was how well his lips moved against yours. How easily his tongue overpowered yours. Making you whine in to his mouth.

That seemed to make him more needier. His hands squeezing your hips and pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Your hands are tangled in his soft hair, tugging at his brown locks, enough to make him let out the prettiest of groans.

Neither of you even acknowledge when Atsumu opens the door. Staring at the two of you in disbelief. He quickly shuts the door, sticking out his tongue.

“They’re practically fuckin’. ” He says and Osamu grimaces.

“We gotta get em outta there.”

“No way in hell I’m doin’ that. Be my guest.” Atsumu begins to walk away, leaving a displeased Osamu.

Let’s just say things led to one thing and another after they had left you in there for more than seven minutes.

[reiderwriter]

✍️ Dear Diary ✍️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Hi thereee! I was thinking about a request since I saw they’re open again… I was thinking maybe Con-non con breeding/cream pie?🤭 maybe somnophilia too. S get home en R is sleeping and he just take what he wants but it’s obviously something mutual.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Dubcon/ CNC, somnophilia, breeding, pet play (kitten/owner), daddy kink, unprotected sex, almost one bed trope, oral (m recieving), Perv!Spencer, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader and just incredibly horny Reader and Spencer.

Summary: Spencer comes across your dream journal and finds out that you're not plagued with nightmares but with wet dreams. And they're all about him.

A/N: Thank you to @reidmotif, who basically told me the entire concept of this fic was forcing Spencer to read smut headcannons about himself and watching the reactions. I think this is the quickest I've ever written something from start to finish 💀

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Spencer didn't know what possessed him to read through your diary, but he couldn't stop when he started. At a single glance, he could tell it wasn't the book that he was looking for, the one you'd sent him to find in your bedroom, the one you'd recommended he read. 

That one was beside it on the side table, but there was something about the black moleskin, laid perfectly flat on the desk, that had his fingers itching as he moved it forward. 

You were otherwise occupied with setting out the plates of takeaway you'd ordered for the six people currently sat in your living room, so knowing his company wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, he sat himself down and began reading. 

Within ten pages, he completely regretted it. 

He'd sussed out by the title page that this wasn't just a normal journal but a dream journal. It was heavily recommended in a lot of the mandated therapy sessions you guys did. Hell, even Hotch had suggested it to him a few times, so he shouldn't be surprised you kept one. 

He was just surprised at the content of your dreams.

He knew his own were dark and painful, and he was curious, thinking that knowing your dreams could help him assist you better through whatever was plaguing you recently. 

In ten pages, he'd managed to suss out that it was him that was plaguing you. 

“May 8th - Woke up hot again. Dreamt of Spencer waking me up with his tongue. Need to get this out of my system.” 

“May 10th - On my back tied to the bed. Spencer again. I'm going to hell.” 

“May 22nd - Kitten ears. And Spencer's cum splashing on my face as a wake up call. I'm a freak!” 

Each entry was similar, and he read on page after page, until he felt his cock stiffening and he had to put the book down and remind himself that there was company just a few doors away. Company that included his friends and a woman who'd been dreaming of fucking him every night for… three months now. 

He took a deep breath. He took a lot of deep breaths, forcing himself to think of the most unappealing things ever as he calmed himself down. 

A voice down the hall called his name, and he dropped the journal like a scalding pot and picked up the other book, opening it to a random page and trying to look convincingly entranced. 

“Spencer, what-?” You asked, seeing him sat on your bed reading the book. He thanked the heavens that the book was a hardback and just big enough to hide the remaining stiffness in his pants while he tried to will it to deflate. 

“Oh, good book, right? I should've known you'd start reading it straight away. Just take it home, Spencer.”

“No, no, it's okay, I don't need-” 

“No, it's fine. You can give it back at the Stanford Review Psychology Seminar next weekend. We're rooming still, right?” 

He took in what felt like a gulp of air, forcing the oxygen down into his lungs as his tongue laid as useless in his mouth as his cock felt in his pants.

“Right.” He managed to get out as you told him to haul his ass back to the living area. 

He took up your journal again, though, and for the next few minutes, committed your diary to memory and left the room. 

“Spencer, come on, kid, what book is as interesting as Wrestlemania?” Morgan said, clapping him on the back as he ripped through a slice of pizza. 

One where the author said she'd woken up mid-orgasm just imagining he'd tied her down. And him specifically.

“Leave the kid alone, you know he's prone to his little fantasies,” Rossi chimed in as well, passing Spencer a beer quickly and cracking one open for himself.

Not the most prone person in the room to fantasies, of course, but possibly the second most prone. 

“Shut up and watch the game, you're making him squirm,” you said from your perch behind his seat on the couch, giving him a quick pat on the shoulders, your fingers lingering just too long. 

And with the word squirm went his whole concentration as he started imagining your small mews and purrs of pleasure, your sleepy face dazed as his fingers roughly curled into your cunt. You'd squirm for him, and you'd do a whole lot more than that. 

The rest of the night tortured him the same way, though thankfully he'd managed to find a pillow to cover up his small - though growing ever harder - issue. At last, he was the last one left in your apartment, the others letting themselves out after you'd crashed on your own sofa just inches from him. 

To be fair, they'd pulled off the herculean task of cleaning up after themselves without waking you, despite your notoriety for sleeping light. 

He'd waved off the others and said he'd get you back into bed, protests quickly falling on deaf ears. Yes, Morgan may have been the better choice to carry your dead-tired weight, but he was also five beers in and just as likely to slam you into the bed a la whatever wrestlers Spencer had been ignoring on the screen all night. 

He'd gotten himself mostly under control anyway, so he'd been able to rush them out of the door, drunk or senile, and managed to turn himself back to you. 

You were curled up in a little ball, like a cat who'd found the perfect cardboard box to sit in. You filled the space and looked comfortable, but he knew you'd be sore in the morning. Either that, or your words had driven him to the brink of insanity and he just wanted his hands on you for once.

He didn't bother trying to fully lift you, knowing you'd definitely freak out and wake up if he tried. 

Instead, he started talking to you in your sleep. 

“Y/N… let's go to bed,” he whispered, pulling your arms limply around his neck as he tugged you upwards with two hands firmly on your hips until you were standing. 

You let out a small whimper of protest, head falling forward to nuzzle into his chest as he started slowly walking you back to your bed. It was a technique he'd used on you more than once, getting you to comply when half asleep on multiple occasions to assist you when drunk or exhausted or both. 

With the revelations of your diary, he thought about talking you into even more in your sleepy state but resisted. 

“Spencer…” you mumbled, gripping him loosely and pressing kisses against his shirt and chest, lazily. 

He had to remind himself you were still asleep, even if you were moving and talking. Asleep, even if you had wanted him to wake you up with a cock in your cunt. Asleep, and not his girlfriend, or lover, or anything more than coworker, as his cock hardened and the backs of your knees finally hit the side of your bed. 

You half collapsed onto it, and we're half lowered gently by Spencer, though in all his uncoordination, he couldn't stop himself from falling directly on top of you. 

“Yes, Spencer…” you sighed, hands brushing up and down his chest above you as he froze solid. 

He was screwed. He'd read every word of that diary. He could imagine exactly what it was you were dreaming of at that moment, and he needed to extricate himself before he did something he'd hate himself for. 

His hand snaked up your waist, just brushing your nipple as he finally dropped it to the bed and pushed himself up. He couldn't touch you anymore without consequences, and while those consequences sounded truly…delightful, he resisted. 

Tucking you into bed, drowning out the sounds of your faint purrs and moans, he rubbed his cock through his pants to ease some of the ache. He denied himself more, grabbing your recommended book from the side table, leaving the infernal journal and closing the door on quite possibly one of the most arousing experiences of his life. 

He was screwed. 

A week passed and left him in his state of screwedness. You may have dreamed of him taking you like that, almost against your will, but he dreamed of you begging him to do so. 

He awoke stiff every day and refused to touch himself, to acknowledge the disgusting pleasure he was getting from his imagination. 

A week full of cold showers and blue balls, and what did it end with except being back in close quarters with your horny ass. 

Screwed supreme. 

You noticed he was acting off very quickly, and you'd commented on it the morning of conference day one, knocking him back slightly with each step towards him you took. 

“Spencer, are you sick?” You said, stepping closer, raising a hand as if to test his temperature. 

“No, no, I just... germaphobic, remember?" he smiled, gently brushing your hand away. He also took another step away from you to stop him from balling his hands into your sides and pushing you down to the floor to have his way with you. 

“That hasn't bothered you before. You literally said last week that we're in the same places so often that we've been exposed to the same bacteria and have likely formed an immuno-connection or whatever-”

“There's just-” he said, now taking another step further away from you, hands up in a surrendering pose to halt your approach. “A lot of people at this conference. It's making me a bit uncomfortable.” 

You seemed to understand that, backing off. And thankfully, just in time, because a second later and his hands would've been tangled in your hair, forcing you to your knees so he could show you just how compromised he could get you. 

You'd dreamt about something similar on March 25th. And April 3rd. 

It wasn't just his own lust for you fogging his mind - he'd dealt with that before, his hand a friendly nighttime companion - but compounded with your own, it was unbearable. 

He looked at you and all he saw was “March 2nd - Begged Spencer to cum inside me, and fill his little kitten as much as he could. Could I convince him to fo that for real?” 

For fucking real.

He felt infinitely more respect for your skills at your job now, knowing that he couldn't go a week without genuinely flinching away from your touch feeling this goddamn pent up, and you'd lasted three months and counting without so much as batting an eye. 

After wandering through the conference all day, listening to the keynote speakers and giving a speech of his own, he'd grown exhausted. He was tired of avoiding you, but it had to be done. The thing he feared the most was breaking and becoming one of the monsters he'd dedicated his life to catching. The thing he feared most was you. 

You'd hugged him when he completed his speech, lingering still after pulling away, so he was still aware of every inch and curve of you. 

“I'm so proud of you,” you said with a smile, straightening his tie. You wouldn't be proud of him if you knew what he wanted to do with that tie. He imagined, even in a crowd of people, pulling you back by your hair - March 31st - and gagging you with the scrap of material - April 17th.

After almost doing just that, he quickly excused himself, and 12 miscalls and 27 text messages later, you'd finally given him what he wanted - “I'm going to sleep now. We need to talk in the morning.” 

He finally crept back to the room you were sharing from a restaurant below. He'd thought about numbing his senses with alcohol but decided against it, not willing to take the risk that he'd numb his inhibitions at the same time. 

It wouldn't be the first time alcohol had made him get handsy with you, scowling as he remembered his hands trailing all over you during karaoke at the Delfino, his hands gripping tighter as the night stretched out longer. You'd both been trying to sing Billy Joel, and then he'd been trying to keep hold of you no matter how much you'd giggled and fidgeted. 

Looking back now, he was sure it was only the presence of every single one of your coworkers and half the FBI that stopped him from covering you in kisses, from pushing his hand up your shirt and playing with you. 

Alone in your hotel room, there was nowhere else. 

Sure enough, though, there was another bed, which he happily threw himself on when he entered, knowing he'd claimed the one closest to the door. 

He sat for a minute, then two, then three, and just knowing you were close had his brain begging to repeat everything it had learnt in your diary. 

“March 1st - I think I had a sex dream about Spencer. I think I really enjoyed it. I think I should avoid him today” 

“March 18th - Used my vibratory before bed and still woke up needy. What would Spencer's cock feel like buried inside of me?”

“April 14th - He took me over a desk in the bullpen while continuing his conversation with Hotch. I almost cried, waking up and finding out it wasn't real.” 

“June 4th - Spencer is coming over tonight, and I spent the whole day masturbating to memories of my own dreams about him…. I'm definitely going to hell.” 

It was as he repeated each of these entries in his head like a mantra that the bed shifted and he felt something next to him. 

Whatever bed he'd thrown himself into, you had decided to occupy as well. He felt your ass first, wiggling up against his crotch as you snuggled into whatever warmth he was offering beside you. 

The content sigh that left your lips was the final straw as Spencer's nerves frayed and his already throbbing cock begged for relief. 

His hands held your hips still as he unthinkingly began to rut into you, rubbing his cock against your ass in any way that would find release. 

He tried to stop himself, but you were mid-dream now, and you were making those noises again. 

Tiny little pants, mewls of pleasure, his name. Jesus Christ, his name. 

He pushed down his boxers as you threw your head back, landing at the crook of his neck, your breath fanning over his skin as you turned over. 

Instead of rutting against your ass, he could now hitch your legs across his thighs and at least get close enough to where he wanted to be, buried in your wet, aching pussy. 

He didn't let himself. Biting his lip, he moved his hands from your hips to his cock, and began a slow, painful attempt at jacking off. 

It should've been easy with you in front of him. He should've already exploded on his hand, especially after more than a week of nothing.

But you were in arms reach and it was as if his entire body was on strike until he sank into you. 

In the end, it was your movements that led him to crack, just like it had been your words in the first place that had moved him to such desperation. 

Shifting uncomfortably again in your sleep, you'd managed to push your leg over his lap and roll on top of him, all while unconscious. 

And then you started moving. Like really fucking moving, like dry humping. Spencer's brain disappeared as he tugged at your clothing to figure out how to remove as much as needed removing. 

Luckily, all he had to do was shift your panties to the side and make sure he didn't get tangled in the rest of your night dress, and, thoughtlessly, he was plunging into your depths. 

He thought it would be that first thrust that would wake him, and though he had his suspicions, he was right. You didn't move. If anything you were quieter now with his cock filling you than you had been dry humping it not a minute earlier. 

You were awake, he knew. You were awake, and you were pretending to sleep. His cock throbbed inside you at the thought and he knew he needed more. 

“March 19th, I dreamed that Spencer woke me up with some cream for his kitten. I called him Daddy. God, I wish it were real,” he whispered in your ear as you continued your facade, quoting your diary back at you as he flipped you over. 

He was gentle still, allowing you to maintain the illusion of sleep even as your heart beat out of your chest and a moan threatened to burst out of your mouth. 

Softly, his hips retreated from over yours, his thick cock withdrawing from your heat before slamming back in. 

“April 12th - Daddy let his good little kitten drink up her spilt milk from the floor. I licked his cum up with my tongue as he fucked me from behind. I'm perverse.” 

Your breathing was way harder to control now, as his hips swayed into yours repeatedly, his real cock stretching further than you'd ever imagined his dream one reaching. You'd never been a good visualiser. 

“Wake up, Y/N,” he said, kissing your neck and replacing his lips with a firm hand at your windpipe. 

“Wake up and talk to me. We're supposed to be talking about earlier, right? You're supposed to be mad at me, but instead, you're close to cumming on my big fat cock.”

You screwed your eyes up tighter as he lifted his head and let his tongue silence the first moan that you let.slip through. He'd won. 

His to guess clashed with yours as you tried to control his pace from under him, tugging your hips up, begging for more of his dick to enter you. 

Sure, you were awake, but to you, this was just another dream, and he wasn't going to let you escape him this time. 

“That's it, that's.my little girl, milk my cock,” he murmured, even as he grabbed your hips again and started setting the pace once again. It was his fingers stabbing into the gate of your hips and stomach that had you finally fully waking up and realizing that this was real, that Spencer had fucked you awake. 

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, chest jumping with each jack hammer, his head buried between them, picking and sucking like some ravenous beast devouring prey. 

“Daddy,” he corrected, sucking one nipple that had popped out of the top of your night dress into his mouth and biting down. 

You arched into the touch, and he didn't let you move away, hands instantly gripping you tighter as you squirmed and fought in his grip. He held tighter still as his dick entered you, again and again. 

Like you were falling asleep again, your brain cleared until there was only him, hic cock, his tongue on your chest, his hands on your ass keeping you in place.

“May 16th - Last night, Spencer was my owner, and he raped me in the middle of the night. He pushed his fat cock into me and I howled in pleasure, stating exactly where he put me until he released his load into me.”

The words were your own, but you couldn't feel any shame heading them, knowing the reenactment felt just as good as you'd hoped it would subconsciously. 

“Y/N, focus on me. Focus on milking my cock like s good little kitten, come on Y/N,” he said, thrusting into you with no qualms now. 

He'd given in, and he'd given in quickly, but if this was the reward, then he was never holding back again. 

“Spencer-” you shuddered out as your orgasm broke through you, his panting writhing form finally pushing you back down into the bed as he continued tutting into you until he, too, could no longer hold back. 

With a painful groan, he came and pulled out of you in an instant, letting his cum leak out of you as he watched. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up, tugging at your hair until you were both on your knees, then pushing you down until your face was level with his softening cock. 

“Clean up your spilt milk, kitten,” he panted, and you complied happily, licking up every drop that had splashed against his cock and stomach and thighs. 

His moans were musical, whimpers and pouts and sinful curses as he held up your hair and tried not to fuck your mouth, enjoying the sensations of your exploring g tongue too much for that. 

When he'd thought you'd done enough, he tugged you up again, wrapping his hands around your body firmly and pulling you in for one more kiss. 

“Next time,” he said, pulling away and panting to catch his breath. “Next time- you have- a dream- just- tell me.” 

You nodded and tried to chase his lips, but he pulled you back down to the bed before you made it  eliciting a small whimper of frustration. 

“You're sleeping in my bed,” he observed, stroking your head as he held you close. 

“You were avoiding me.” 

“I was avoiding you because I've been walking around with a boner for a week, and I didn't want to jump you in a conference room filled with 300 people.”

“You read my diary,” you said, pouting. 

“You let me read your diary. It was wide open on the desk, and you sent me into that room alone, knowing my eyes move quicker than my conscience does.” 

You hummed, smiling in reply but didn't answer the accusations. 

“I wonder what my wake up call in the morning will be like,” you smiled, shutting your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep, his chest pillowing your head and his arms closed tight around your waist. 

[maopll]

"Haha...well I definitely didn't think this through.."

"I can see..."

The situation you are in should be embarrassing for most people. But lil' ol' you here have been possibly the biggest fan for the one you are stuck here with. The good side of you says this is wrong while the bad side is just....'hell yeah'

"It's momentary...trust me! I bet we can figure a way out"

You look around the small and tight escape room. Above was the trapdoor with a little space left, just enough for air and light to enter. It would be fun, they said. Your current predicament says otherwise...not that you're complaining.

"We cannot stay stuck like this with eachother forever. Perhaps you'd have an idea on how to get out." His eyes hadn't met yours during the whole ordeal. Was he embarrassed ?!

"I uhh....Maybe if we shout?" You shout quite loudly for 'help'...fortunately for you no one came

"Heh, guess you're stuck with me forever...can I rest my head?" "...Yes..."

And so it turns into a different seven minutes in heaven session. You noticed how he was more frantic than usual. Was it because your bodies were practically pressing eachother and it was harder to ignore this feeling? Bingo.

Through the faint light coming in, you saw how his cheeks had flushes a pretty shade of pink. His heart too was beating quite loudly since you could hear it because you laid your head close to his chest. You smile to yourself 'thank god, I think he likes me'

....

"Oh my god how did you two end up here?!"

Your friend shrieks as they pull you two up from the narrow space. "That would be my fault I didn't see the trapdoor" you chime as they removed dust and debris from your hair.

"Wait wait I gotta say something to him" you pause your friend's movement and give a small wink, an inside code for the fine shyt.

"So uh... after today's events, would you like to have a little coffee afterwards? My treat!"

He was a little taken aback, with your sudden request, but as he finally realised what you meant by that, he won't admit it but his insides felt a little giddy. A small smile forming at the thought of the next moment.

"We can do that. Wanna hang out at my house sometime?"

© 2024 maopll. do not copy, repost or modify my work in any form

[mercurial-chuckles]

The Time Thor Third-Wheeled

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count: 499 Warnings: Fluff | Mutual Pining | Friends-to-lovers trope | One searing kiss | Language | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: This teeny blurb is for the Valentine's Event Flash Fic! @avengers-assemble-bingo Thank you for hosting this fun event, guys! 🩷✨👏🏻 Prompt: Dinner Together. Gosh! It feels like ages since I wrote--I barely wrote anything all week with so much going on. Anyhoo, I’m glad I got this little blurb done, and look! I even managed to keep it under 500 words. 🙂‍↕️🫣 This is unedited, but I’ll edit it as soon as I can! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to the internet. Honestly, the banner is just me thirsting over him. Dear heavens, he looks divine, doesn't he? Divider credits to buck-star Thank you, Sydney :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

"You lost your phone?" Bucky cornered you against your bedroom door, and you flinched under his angry gaze.

You were ignoring him, rightfully so, after you spilled your guts about your crush and asked him on a date this morning--only for him to just stare at you. So, you casually shrugged off the one-sided conversation after three minutes of silence and fled.

"What're you doing here?" You squeaked, flustered by the closeness. He smelled so good and looked so sinful, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. He nearly gave you a heart attack when you opened the door earlier.

"The hell is he doing here?" Bucky asked, gesturing wildly at the closed door behind you.

When Bucky walked inside, greeted by Thor and your little party of pop tarts and pizza, he was pissed and dragged you to your bedroom to talk.

You explained that Thor was staying for a day or two after a rift with Jane, and the Valentine's Day decorations at the compound were making him sad.

Bucky sighed in relief, pulling you closer until you had to crane your neck to see him. God, he looked heavenly from every angle. You suddenly felt self-conscious and underdressed. In your loose, 'I don't give a rat's ass' t-shirt (with an image of a rat holding a donkey) and shorts, you looked weird before the fine-looking Adonis standing in front of you.

"Bucky..." you whimpered, as his one hand squeezed your waist, pulling you closer, while the other cradled your jaw and tilted your chin up.

"Why are you ignoring me?" he murmured against your skin, placing a soft kiss that made your heart race.

"I'm not..." you managed to say. He scoffed, raising his brow.

Bucky spoke, breaking the silence, "I've been mustering the courage to ask you out, but you beat me to it. Before I could even respond, you took off."

"What?" you squeaked.

He nodded, grinning shyly, and you narrowed your eyes, not quite believing him.

"Are you pitying me to save me heartbreak, Buck?" Before you could finish, he angled you and captured your lips in a soft kiss.

"You're stupidly oblivious, doll," he groaned against your lips, then kissed you harder, growling as he explored your mouth. You moaned, clutching his pristine white shirt.

He lifted you effortlessly, prompting you to wrap your legs around him as he pushed you against the door, deepening the kiss.

You could feel him hardening against you, making you moan lewdly into his mouth.

"I'm hungry." Thor's voice and violent knocks startled you.

Sighing, you tried to steady your breathing, placing a few kisses on Bucky's stubbled jaw.

"Thunder's hungry. Let's go eat some pizza. We'll get ice cream later," Bucky whispered before kissing you once more.

You never imagined your first date with Bucky would be you, him, and Thor eating pizza while binge-watching LOTR. Thor would go on to recount this story to many, including your baby girl a few years later.

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

Tags:

@nekoannie-chan   @salvatoreitmeanssaviour   @bitchy-bi-trash   @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp   @greatenthusiasttidalwave   @zaraomarrogers @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog   @shadowrose13-blog1   @king814318   @yiiiikesmish @looking1016 @shadyloveobjects @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @alexxavicry   @feynightlight @soelstress @astheskycries @8crazy-freak8 @avengersfan25 @stuckysgal @slowlyshycomputer @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing @iamtamera @blackhawkfanatic @pebbles20 @starsrfun @read-just-cant @tasersloth @iwudbutnah @daydreaming-lightly @kpopgirlbtssvt @doilooklikeigiveafrack @spaceconveyor @bubblessunshinehoney @rnurse-kole @unclearblur @buck-star @stellar-solar-flare @dreamlesssleepsaga @zandra-42 @awkwardgiraffe726 @signofniall @roofwitty779

[oddity036]

UNCLE MIKE PT 2:

CW: DISPOSAL, (SAFE)

"Alright kid, your parents will be here in a couple hours... ready to hop out?"

Reluctantly, I said yes, not wanting to leave this warm, squishy heaven, but knowing I had to.

"Alright... well, I can really only get ya out one way..."

Confused by what he meant, I asked how he planned to let me out, though by that tone, I had my suspicions...

"Well, you've kinda gotta go the same way the rest of my food goes, y'know? You'll come out fine, albeit you'll smell a bit... Just let me work ya through, okay?"

Realizing what he meant, I began to think and panic before asking "Wait! How am i going to breathe through there?!"

Mike seemed to ponder this for a moment before asking, "Well, you ever heard of inflation?"

Cut to twenty minutes later, Mike had retrieved a pump and was slowly pumping air through his lower digestive tract for safe passage. As I began to slide through, the constant noise coming from his ass from the air being pushed back out was akin to a thunderstorm, almost loud enough to hurt my ears.

Before too long I was almost through the slimy chamber, but this whole experience had given me such a hardon, it was causing Mike pain.

"Kid, what are you doing in there? Something hurts like hell!"

I briefly explained it was my massive hardon, past the point of embarassment

"Well get rid of it! I aint pushin you any further till you do!"

I did as he instructed, but something was happening outside. As I took care of my own, I heard... moaning? Just then, the walls of the colon shrunk around me, squeezing hard. Was he... getting hard? I realized I must have been right at his prostate, so I felt around for it and... Bingo! I gently massaged the mass of tissue to help him. As I finished with my own hardon, I could hear Mike getting closer with his own, but every second he jacked off, I was losing more air. The only solution was to help him finish as soon as possible. It was too late, I took my last breath of the air that was still left, and held it as long as I could, but I started sliding back inside of Mike as he finished himself off... i began to pass out just as he gave one final push and expelled me from his now enlarged anus

Once I was fully out, he laid down on his belly, recovering, and pointed me to the shower to clean up. Once I finished washing all the... slime, off of my body, I got out and headed back to the living room where my parents were already waiting, with a fully clothed, albeit shirtless, (And probably hungry, now that I was gone) Mike.

"Ready to head home, champ?" My dad asked.

I replied- "Yeah! But uh, would yall mind if I spent a little more time with Uncle Mike?"

"Oh, uh, Sure!" My mom answered, and Mike gave me a sly grin

"Ohh yeah, He and I have are gonna get along just fine"

[sunday-bug]

Friday Night Flirts

Pairing: College Student!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Content: flirty banter, somewhat grumpy reader x sunshine Bucky, Bucky is your brother's roommate, mild smut, no explicit sex, but definitely suggestive

Synopsis: Your brother’s roommate, Bucky, turns out to be more than just an annoyance - a study session turns into a bit more.

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for AA Spring Bingo

Prompt/Square: "Roommates"/3

Card Number: AAS002

Fucking Colin. Always hungover. Always late for class. He’d flunk out if it weren’t for you, his dutiful twin sister. The golden child. You rap on the dorm door three times. 

An irritated groan comes from the other side. “Colin! Open up you dumbass!” You raise your fist and start banging more aggressively, bringing your fist back and letting it fly forward as the door swings open. Your fist meets a chest… a hard chest. Definitely not your brother’s chest.

“Good morning, sunshine,” an unfamiliar voice bellows. Your eyes meet the stranger’s.

“Who are you?” You ask, annoyed, as you scoot past him to throw a bag of Advil, Pedialyte, and a breakfast burrito at your brother. “Drink this, take three Advil, and eat that. And stop getting smashed on school nights, idiot.”

“Your girl is a buzzkill,” the tall stranger says to your brother. 

“Ew, she’s my sister, bro,” he spits out, taking a big drink of the Pedialyte. 

“Again, who the hell are you?” You ask him.

“I’m Bucky,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“He just transferred in. Got assigned to be my roommate. Knows all the good party places,” Colin explains, taking a tiny bite of burrito.

“Lovely. That’s just what you need,” you say sarcastically to your brother.

“You seem like you could use some fun,” Bucky chortles. “Relax. He’s fine.”

You snort, “Clearly. He’s hungover to Heaven on a Wednesday morning.” You look at your brother and see his face has turned ashen, a sheen of sweat covering his face.

“I’m gonna-“ he starts, running out the hall presumably to puke.

“Great,” you mutter, shaking your head, looking at Colin’s pile of textbooks and schoolwork on his desk. Your eyes turn to Bucky’s side of the room and you notice his unmade bed, unsurprisingly clean desk, and a poster of a band you like.

He notices you looking at the poster. “They’re a prog metal band,” he offers. “I’m sure you haven’t heard of them.”

Your eyes flit to him in irritation. “I saw them in the city last summer, actually. One of my favorites.”

“You?” He asks incredulously. “You don’t seem like…”

“Go on, what’s your first impression of me?” You press, arms folding over your chest.

“Prissy,” he admits with a laugh. “High strung. Bit of a ball buster.”

“How sweet,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You give him your name and introduce yourself properly. “I’m Colin’s twin sister. Linguistics major. Certified ball buster. Allegedly a priss. Just looking out for my brother.”

Bucky laughs and follows your lead. “I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky. Fine arts major. Certified in motorcycle safety. Allegedly great in bed. Just making sure my new roommate has a good time.”

“You’re trouble,” you mutter, exasperated.

“And you look like you could use some,” he smirks, taking a step closer to you. 

“I assure you that I can find trouble without you as a tour guide, Bucky,” you offer, relaxing your arms at your side.

“I like how you say my name,” he utters, moving closer still.

“If you think you’re being charming, it’s not working,” you whisper.

His eyes move over your body quickly before meeting yours again. “You might want to tell your body to catch up with your mind then. It’s giving you away, darlin'."

You furrow your brow and look down, seeing your peaked nipples poking through your thin T-shirt. You cross your arms again, covering your breasts. “I’m just cold.”

“Just cold,” he repeats with a smirk, looking down at his watch. “I gotta get to class.”

You feel the smallest tug of disappointment in your gut, but steel yourself with snark. “Of course. You wouldn’t want that 2.0 GPA to slip!”

Bucky gathers a sketchbook, a few books, and sticks a pencil behind his ear. He puts his hand on the door to leave. “3.8 actually,” he offers with a smile before taking off. 

Colin walks back in a few moments later, looking a bit better. “You missed your first class,” you say. “Don’t miss the next one, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, curling into his bed. “I set my alarm. I got it.”

“Okay, see you later,” you say before leaving his dorm. 

—

It's Friday night. You have your planner on your desk and all of your assignments for the upcoming week laid out. Your roommate is going home for the weekend so you have your dorm to yourself to study and get ahead. Your phone pings.

Colin: I think I left my wallet in ur purse 

You’d gone to the gym together and for a bite to eat last night and remember him throwing it in your bag. You check your purse and find it. 

You: Yeah, I have it. When will you be here?

Colin: Can u bring it to me? I gotta shower

You huff, annoyed. 

You: Fine. Be there in 5.

You throw a sweatshirt over your bra and bike shorts, grab your purse, and trek to his dorm. At least it was nice outside. The door to his room is cracked when you get there so you knock once and enter. 

“Hi, sunshine,” a familiar voice bellows. Bucky is standing by his bed, shirtless and glistening, a towel slung low on his hips. “My eyes are up here,” he teases.

You scoff, “Where’s Colin?”

“Just left to shower. What’s up?”

“I have his wallet,” you say, reaching into your purse and walking over to set it on your brother’s desk.

“Do you keep tabs on his spending too?” Bucky teases.

“He left it in my bag, asshole,” you mutter, watching him rifle through his closet. 

“You know I’m teasing you, right? You’re cute when you get all riled up,” he smirks, picking out a blue t-shirt and throwing it on his bed. He assesses your casual outfit. “Don’t tell me you’re staying in on a Friday night.”

You look down at your sweatshirt and shorts and swallow. “I have a lot of studying-“

Colin storms back into the dorm at that moment, hands raised in glee. “She texted me, bro!”

“No shit?” Bucky asks, high-fiving your brother. 

“She wants to go out tonight,” Colin says. “I know we were gonna-“

Bucky cuts him off, “Go out with her, man. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.”

“Okay, man. Thanks,” he says, toweling off his hair. You plop down on Colin’s desk chair, swiveling around and snooping through his notes and textbooks as he gets dressed, pockets his wallet, and rushes out the door. 

You laugh and stand up. “Good for him. Guess I’ll see ya around.”

“Wait,” Bucky starts. “Don’t go.”

You raise your eyebrows, hand on the doorknob. “Don’t go?”

“I mean, do you wanna do something tonight? With me?” He asks quietly, still in a towel. Your mind goes back to your solo study session in your dorm. 

“I really was planning to study,” you say. 

“Can I make a suggestion?” He asks, pulling a pair of sweats from a drawer. 

“Um, sure?”

“What if I study with you, and then we do something fun?”

“You want to study with me? On a Friday night?”

“And then we’ll do something fun, yes,” he clarifies.

“I already have all of my stuff set up in my dorm, though,” you mutter. 

“So we’ll study there,” he says nonchalantly.

“Oh, um, okay,” you agree. “I’ll just wait in the hall so you can get dressed,” you say, slipping out into the hallway. You scroll mindlessly on your phone while you wait for Bucky. He slips out after a couple minutes, sketchpad in hand and you breathe in. “Did you put cologne on? To study?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “What? I can’t smell nice?”

You smile to yourself and nudge off the wall, leading the way to your dorm. “Let’s go.”

The walk back to your room is odd. People look at you, or rather, at you walking with Bucky. He seems to know everyone, despite recently transferring in. 

“You, uh, you make friends pretty easily, huh?” You ask.

“I’m a nice guy,” he shrugs. “Not my fault you’re antisocial.”

“I’m not antisocial, asshole. I’m… shy,” you clarify, realizing how lame that sounds. You open the door to your building and the RA at the front desk’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull at the sight of you with Bucky. You wave and head up to your room. It’s not that you’ve never had a boy in your room, but maybe not a boy of Bucky’s… caliber. 

“I take it your roommate actually enjoys her Friday nights,” he quips as you let him into your empty dorm room.

“She went home for the weekend. And for your information, I do enjoy my Friday nights.”

“Do you have a speaker?” He asks, ignoring your rebuttal, scrolling through Spotify. You nod to the small speaker on your desk and watch him pick a playlist.

A familiar song plays and you smirk. “I like this one.”

“Me too,” he says, perusing your books and study materials. “Looks serious.”

“It can be,” you offer. “What do you need to work on?”

“Just a few sketches for my still life class.” He takes off his shoes and sits on your bed, getting comfortable quickly as he opens his sketchpad. You watch him stick his tongue between his teeth in concentration and can’t help but smile as you sit down at your desk. Propping your legs up on your desk, you lean back and read from your textbook, making highlights over important passages. You hear Bucky flip the page of his sketchbook, sigh, and the sound of pencil on paper. After a half hour or so, you readjust your position and hear his pencil stop moving. He clears his throat.

“Can I see?” You ask, eyeing his sketch pad.

“Um…”

“No pressure,” you say, waving off the question. 

“You can see,” he says sheepishly, turning the sketchpad to you. It takes you a split second to recognize yourself on the paper in the same sweatshirt you’re wearing now, bare legs propped up on your desk, a book in your lap. Your eyes flit from the drawing to him and then back. 

“So, you’re really good,” you say with a small laugh. 

“I’m okay,” he offers with a shrug. “I had to miss a class this week, so I’m working on extra credit.”

“What did you miss?” You ask.

The slightest blush blooms on the apples of his cheeks. “The nude model.”

“Ah,” you say quietly. “So you thought my bare legs might suffice?”

“I, uh, I should have asked before I started sketching. I’m sorry,” he says, closing his book. 

You realize he thinks you’re upset. “No, Bucky, it’s fine. Really. It’s a lovely drawing. It’s flattering, actually, to see how someone else sees me.”

He swallows, “Yeah, well you’re not exactly hard to look at.”

It’s your turn to blush. You feel your entire body heat, and suddenly your dorm feels very small and hot. You shut your textbook and shed your sweatshirt. “Sorry, it’s warm in here.”

Bucky eyes your bra and shorts combo - you normally don’t think much of it, as it’s something you wear to the gym regularly, but it’s like he’s undressing you with his eyes. And you’re so okay with it. “It’s okay,” he breathes. The way his eyes darken uncoils something inside of you and you make a decision.

“We’ve studied,” you start, “and you mentioned doing something fun after, but I just wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t get full points for your extra credit assignment.” You stand up and walk to your bed. “Don’t you think?”

Bucky smirks nervously. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Sit at my desk, and I’ll show you,” you say. Your heart is slamming in your chest, but the way he’s looking at you is making you feel bold as hell and like you want to prove his assumptions about you wrong. He gets up and sits in your desk chair and you take his place on your bed. His cologne lingers and goosebumps rise on your skin. You arrange your pillows so you’re lying down but facing him. “Draw me.”

The smallest smile paints his face and he shakes his head slightly, turning to a fresh page in his sketchbook and pulling the pencil from behind his ear into his hand. “Put your foot up on the headboard,” he directs you, taking your ankle gently in his hand and planting it where he wants it. His touch - the first time he’s actually touched you - feels like fire. 

“Wait,” you say. “This isn’t right.” 

His head falls. “I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable-”

You cut him off and sit up. “No, it’s not that,” you say. “You said you missed the nude modeling class, so…” You pull your bra over your head, freeing your breasts. A small noise escapes Bucky’s throat and you smile as you remove your bike shorts, leaving you in your underwear. You lie back on the bed as he instructed before, one foot on the headboard, the other planted on the mattress. You bring one hand up over your head and rest the other on your ribcage. 

“How’s this?” You ask, finally looking into his eyes. His throat bobs as his eyes travel up and down your nearly naked form. 

“Fucking lush,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”

You smile and move your hand up from your ribcage to your breast, brushing over your hardened bud. 

“Oh, fuck, don’t do that,” he breathes, closing his eyes. “I won’t be able to concentrate.”

You giggle and put your hand back in a safe place. “Okay, I’ll behave. Go ahead and sketch. I’ll stay still.”

He smiles and looks down at his sketchpad, stroking the first lines of your form across the page. A slow, sultry song comes over the speaker and he clears his throat, adjusting the notebook in his lap. The air conditioning kicks on after a few minutes of him sketching and the cool breezes from the vents licks across your bare skin, making your nipples peak once again. Bucky notices immediately and focuses his pencil on one part of the paper, his eyes shifting from your breasts to the page. The blush in his cheeks deepens, and his arousal is obvious through his sweatpants. The sight of his excitement turns you on, and you can feel yourself grow wet. You shift just slightly, clenching your thighs together for some form of relief. His hand comes up to move your legs back into position and you shy away, teasing him. 

“Isn’t that the first rule of nude modeling? You can’t touch the model?” You ask.

He chuckles lightly, holding his hand up in surrender. “Fine, no touching.”

You move your legs back into position and he notices the evidence of your arousal on your underwear. “All of that without even touching you?” 

You gasp quietly at his comment before quipping back, “I could say the same for you.” You eye the growing bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Take them off,” he begs, nodding to your underwear. You swallow and nod once, slowly sliding your underwear off. Bucky licks his lips at the sight of you completely naked and sits back down in your desk chair, picking up his sketchpad. “I’m almost done.”

“Good,” you breathe.

“Good?” He asks, looking up at you from under his dark lashes, pencil poised above the paper. 

You nod, trying to convey what you want without actually saying the words. 

“I thought I couldn’t touch the model,” he says cheekily, concentrating on his work. 

“Maybe we can break that rule,” you sigh, letting your hand travel lower to where your body is begging for it.

“Jesus Christ, I’m definitely not going to finish if you start doing that,” he mutters.

“But you said you’re almost done,” you hiss, starting to rub slow circles around your clit. “So finish.”

“Oh, I intend to finish,” he growls, dropping the sketchpad on your desk and shedding his shirt and sweats in seconds before climbing on the bed with you. Your body clenches in anticipation as he surrounds you - his muscles, his fucking cologne, his erection pressing into your leg. 

“Are you still sad about your Friday night in?” You breathe, kissing his neck and pushing your hand under the waistband of his boxers, gripping him gently.

Bucky gasps and smiles, biting your earlobe. “Fuck no. I think you’re onto something with Friday night study sessions. Now c’mere.”

[bullet-prooflove]

6500 Follower Bingo Card Celebration: Bare - John Shen x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @fadeinsol @nommingonfood @yousigned-upforthis

Hitting The Bingo Squares: Love Marks & Bare For The First Time

Companion piece to:

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

Tiger, Tiger - John reveals the truth between his engagement and his history.

Jack - John's mother opens up old wounds by giving John a copy of your DCFS file.

You make good on that promise.

You ruin John for any other woman.

With heady kisses, breathless whispers. With love marks that stain his skin, that have his hips arching, his dick leaking as you press your perfect cunt against him, coating him in your wetness.

“I’ve never fucked bare before.” He tells you, his thumb chasing over that scar at the edge of your right eye. “You’ll be my first.”

“You’re the only person I’ve wanted to do this with.” You promise him as your mouth ghosts over his. “The only man who’ll ever have this part of me.”

You sink down then, enveloping his cock inch by inch with that molten heat. It feels like heaven, like he’s breached those pearly gates and hit paradise.

You keep him there pressed deep, fully seated, his cheeks flush, his eyes wild.

“Cecila.” He drawls your name out like an exhale. “You feel so fucking good baby, I could die with your pussy gripping me so fucking sweet.”

“So over dramatic.” You tease as his hands squeeze your thighs, his breathing turning ragged..

You start to move and John’s control goes straight to hell. He fucks up into you, fireworks erupting underneath his skin, his hands roving all over your body, kneading, grasping, stroking until your head tips back, hair falling over your shoulders. His lips trail down your throat, leaving desperate, heated kisses all over your flesh as the ecstasy chases through his veins like heroin. His arms wrap around you, holding you flush against him until there’s nothing but skin.

You kiss him when you come and he combusts like a star, shattering into a thousand pieces, cast out across the night sky, forming constellations in the dark.

“You belong to me now.” You whisper against his lips, your palm coming to rest on the tattoo on chest, fingertips tracing over the ebbs and flows of his EKG.

“I know.” He murmurs, covering your palm with his. “I’m all yours Cici, from now until this damn thing stops beating, I’m yours.”

Love John? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[astralis-ortus]

gummy bears

✱ college student!hj x gn!reader

— art school is hard—at least having a muse makes it a little easier.

w.count → 1.8k genre → fluff...? warning → mild cussing, as per usual♡ a.n → hi!! i'm back with a new face addition to the page! hahah honestly i thought it would be either minho or seungmin first but ngl hyunnie has been tugging on my hearstrings lately he's such a silly little mandu i love him sm :( hope you guys find the story as enjoyable as chris' side of the blog, and also if anyone is interested for a commission there are slots available still♡ ⋆ see masterlist

has it always been this… weird?

your attention should’ve been sealed at the projected slides once the professor started the countdown on his infamous ‘how-long-can-i-yap-before-my-students-fall-asleep’ course, but holy smokes—even breathing seemed like a major task when you could barely peel your thoughts off the boy sitting a few rows in front of you.

hyunjin has always been the main attention-grabber wherever he went—and that includes yours.

it’s not like you denying it either. he is gorgeous, and even the heavens know you couldn’t help but glance in his direction whenever he’s in the room. hell, even a few of your initial sketches for last semester’s projects were inspired by hyunjin. it’s as if he had slowly solidified his spot as your muse—but what is this odd feeling gently fluttering between the rows of your ribcage?

a buzz from the pocket of your pants startled you out of your trance, and while you thanked the gods for sending you down here with a habit of putting your phone on constant silent, you peeked at the notification patiently perched on the screen of your phone—one nearly causing you a minor heart attack on the spot.

hyunjin: spot next to me is empty, you know

right—you forgot your position from a mere classmate-slash-secret-admirer has been upgraded to an actual acquaintance-slash-almost-friend of hyunjin’s, all thanks to that one final project from art history 101 class last semester.

you: being at the back is peaceful, thanks hyunjin: says the one who rushed for a front spot for literally any other class lol hyunjin: cmon, saved the spot for you

lord—now you’re genuinely glad you decided to wear that crusty baseball cap of yours today, or literally everyone would’ve noticed the way your cheeks had burned up into a bright shade of crimson.

you: geez hyunjin: cmoooon hyunjin: or i’ll literally ask mr. kang to move you here

the way your head snapped to find hyunjin’s playful yet determined gaze headed straight at you was not something you would’ve ever thought to add to your bingo board.

ever.

you: no you won’t hyunjin: try me

your eyes nearly doubled in size when you returned your line of sight in hyunjin’s direction, only to see the slow, comical way the long-haired guy is raising his hand while keeping his eyes on you, lips tipped up into a masked grin.

“yes, mr. hwang?”

fuck.

you scrambled on your phone while mr. kang—as well as the rest of the attendees of the class, fixed their eyes on hyunjin, quietly wondering what would come out of those lips of his.

“oh, i’m just wondering if—"

you: FINE I’M MOVING you: JUST SHUT UP you: PLEASE

And you swore you could see the way his lips turned into a victorious grin through the back of his head.

“if?” mr. kang repeated, seemingly a little impatient at hyunjin’s antics. to be fair, you actually felt the same way.

“if you have any movie or documentaries related to the topics you will be teaching this semester,” hyunjin’s voice rang loud and clear—as if the question had been his initial motive all along, and you’re simply a victim of his little magic trick.

“personally i do learn better through those mediums, mr. kang,” hyunjin perfected his question, smile as innocent as a puppy, and as he looked around the hall, scanning the dozens of nodding heads to his statement,

hyunjin made sure to lock eyes with you for a second longer.

“and i think my friends agree with me.”

“you’re an ass,” you hissed as soon as you secured the seat next to hyunjin, shooting daggers out of your eyes while the latter chuckled. given, hyunjin’s question did made your move less suspicious since mr. kang actually took a liking to the idea and decided to substitute one of the assignments into this movie presentation group project, but still—you were so close to losing your dignity in front of dozens of your peers, on the first day of the new semester.

“would’ve been easier had you listened the first time,” he playfully retorted, remnants of victory still glimmered in his eyes, “and now you know i’m a man of my words. win-win situation for both of us.”

“as if,” you groaned in annoyance despite failing to even make a dent to hyunjin’s victorious grin. “you are the only one benefiting from this, mr. hwang. i’m merely a victim in this scheme of yours.”

“ouch—mr. hwang? really now?” hyunjin placed a hand over his heart, pretending as if he has been shot despite the wicked smile plastered across his face, “do you really want to hurt me like that?”

if you were to be honest, you do enjoy your playful bickers with hyunjin. it made him less of a muse and more of a… human. a regular college boy, who just so happened to be blessed by the goddess of beauty herself and sent here with an exceptional heart of gold.

like he’s just a boy.

“seemed fair enough,” instead, you replied with a mischievous grin while greeting a couple of hyunjin’s friends joining your little group.

“1-1, mr. hwang.”

the massive numbers displayed on your phone screen further validates the exhaustion you felt looming over your shoulders. it’s only the first week of the new semester and you’re already held up on campus way past your classes—how are you supposed to survive the rest of the school year?

to be fair, you really do love what you’re studying right now. it’s what you’ve always wanted to be since you were a child, and to be able to live out your inner child’s dream is one of your prides—but god, it did not make things easier to actually do.

just as you slipped your screen away, sparing yourself from a bunch of exhausting thoughts as your footsteps led you to your bus stop, a pack of gummy bear suddenly popped out of thin air in front of your eyes, causing you to stumble backwards onto the—

warm surface?

“i’m not a gummy sharing type of person, but i think you need this more than i do.”

pushing yourself off the other’s figure, you didn’t need to turn around to figure out the person’s identity—but you did anyway.

“gee, thanks mr. hwang,” you playfully snickered, snatching the bag of gummy and popped one unfortunate strawberry flavored bear in your mouth, “didn’t know you’re so kind.”

over the past week, you found out that you surprisingly have quite a lot of classes together with hyunjin and a few of his friends. you’re thankful he dropped the ‘i saved you a seat’ act by the third class you shared and let you actually sit amongst your friends, but in ways you don’t even understand, you somehow kept getting sorted in the same groups as hyunjin. well, at least now you no longer freeze up while hyunjin’s around.

“oh, can you drop that already,” hyunjin groaned, lips pursing into a subtle pout, “the others are starting to call me mr. hwang too thanks to you, you know.”

you couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past your lips to hyunjin’s protest, already with a picture in your head about the whining he would’ve done once his closest friends started to pick up hyunjin’s objection to the nickname and used the name against him. how adorable he would’ve—

wait.

adorable?

hyunjin’s supposed to be simply your muse—maybe a friend at best! you don’t call your friends adorable, do you?

“you started it!” shaking your head in an attempt to rid the word from the nooks and crannies of your brain, you instead defended yourself while offering hyunjin the pack of gummies at the same time.

“what do you mean i started it!” hyunjin groaned, still popping a gummy in his mouth in the process, “i was just simply requesting your presence at the spot I have reserved for you!”

“and threatened to embarrass me if i didn’t move!” you deflected, playfully glaring at the latter. “don’t you dare omit that part, you sneaky weasel! i thought I was going to have to drop the class due to embarrassment!”

the crease between hyunjin’s brows grew thicker when he realized he couldn’t counter your protest, resulting in another pout to form on his lips, now clearer than before. it made you feel a little guilty—did you go a little too far? was he offended by the—

“i just wanted to get closer to you.”

…wait.

wait—what?

“i know it’s a lame excuse,” hyunjin’s groans turn muffled as he hid his face behind the palms of his hands, “it’s just—i don’t know, i find you fun? i know we just started talking after that group project but i like talking about stuff with you and even after the group project ended i just kept finding myself wanting to talk to you? i just—”

“whoa whoa—slow down!” you instinctively grabbed hyunjin’s shoulders; not too hard to shake him off, just enough to gently ground him back from his rambles. “breathe, you don’t need to explain anything to me, hyunjin. just breathe.”

well, frankly you do need an explanation—just… not from this adorably frantic hyunjin.

no, scratch that—just frantic.

not adorably.

just frantic.

hyunjin’s face was nearly the shade of the gummy bear packet you still had on your hand, and as much as you didn’t want to embarrass him more than he’s already feeling, your lips seemed to have their own plans when they curled up into a grin.

“don’t even say anything,” he warned, fingers now pointing at the rapidly growing grin on your face. “just don’t.”

you would honestly love to comply to hyunjin’s wishes, really—after all, you’re the type to honor and respect your friend’s wishes…

but is he just a friend?

“I’m not!” you stated, but despite throwing your hands up in a sign of defeat, hyunjin knew better when he noticed the constant degree of smile etched across your face,

“I just never would have thought that the campus crush,” you emphasized, trails of laughter already slipping past your lips in harmony to hyunjin’s exasperated sigh, “the mr. hwang hyunjin himself, is quite clumsy at making new friends.”

hyunjin was genuinely dumbfounded at your accusation.

“no i’m not!” he protested, subconsciously following your footstep as you got ready to catch your nearing bus, “it’s not that i’m bad at making friends, i just—”

hyunjin’s explanation were cut short when your bus finally arrived, prompting another frown to appear on his face when you hopped on without sparing him another glance. dejected, hyunjin turned around and—

“hyunjin!”

the speed at how quickly hyunjin turned on his heels at your voice nearly made you giggle. from one of the opened windows from the back of the bus, you locked eyes with hyunjin and smiled.

“text me your excuses and we’ll see if you’re actually good at making friends!” you shouted as the bus began to drove away, only allowing you to witness a faint ‘okay!’ along with an excited wave before hyunjin disappeared behind the curve of the crossroad.

well, maybe hyunjin is adorable after all.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Ruggie

You gotta hide me.

That’s all that Ruggie sends to you as you’re working on homework on Friday evening. You could be doing anything else that night. The weekend has finally arrived after all. Ace and Deuce have bothered you to come have dinner in Foothill Town, but you send Grim to go in your stead because Crewel’s homework assignment is indeed…a bitch this time. Having Ruggie text you like a panicked rabbit is not something you expect to dot on your weekend bingo card. You try to get what’s going on out of him, but he doesn’t respond.

He only replies back when you permit him to come to Ramshackle, and that response comes with a knock at the door. You open it to see a gasping hyena beastman lugging around a gym bag over his shoulder. Ruggie then thanks you for your generosity and barges into your rundown dorm as if he owns the place.

“Ruggie, what the hell is this?”

Ruggie eventually comes clean. As much as he loves making money off of Leona with doing all of his chores at Savanaclaw during the day, Leona’s bidding has gotten a little too much to handle this Friday. Some of the house students have gotten too rowdy at the dorm’s washroom, and a little laundry soap mishap has gotten into Leona’s ear as he attempts to sleep the weekend away. The last time the washroom has flooded with soap and bubbles, Ruggie recalls, is during his freshman year, and Ruggie ended up being the one student to try to clean the mess up before the next morning. That is one chore that Ruggie would rather wrangle ostriches in order to avoid the former option.

You immediately understand, and you get the message that if any texts come from Leona, try to explain that you need Ruggie for an assignment, and Ruggie knows how to get it done. If Jack is to text you, you can feel free to tell him the truth. You know Jack is not one to squeal on an upperclassman.

You beg for Ruggie’s forgiveness as you haven’t prepared Ramshackle to receive guests tonight. Like Ruggie even cares.

“I make my own bed at home. I can make it here. Just tell me which room is mine and let me deal with it. In the meanwhile, you can fix snacks…or dinner. Whichever comes first.”

Of course, Ruggie’s first thought will always be the food. Who do you think you’re talking to?

You don’t have much, but as long as it isn’t expired, Ruggie’s not going to care. Leftovers haven’t killed anyone…as far as you know. You fix him a plate of leftover chicken, vegetables, and the other half of a cake that has been given to you from Trey for an Unbirthday Party. You knock on the guestroom door, announcing that his meal is ready. Ruggie invites you into the room, and you are greated to a tent on top of the spare bed.

“Ruggie?”

“Come on it, Prefect. The air is fine.”

Here he goes. Escaping one dorm to avoid responsibility only to cause some brouhaha in another. You peek into the opening of this manmade tent to see Ruggie making hand puppets against the bedsheets, using his phone’s flashlight to craft the shadows. He gestures me to come in and watch him work.

His palms and fingers craft many images that you don’t expect him to do. He starts with the obvious butterflies and birds. Then, he quickly moves onto running zebras and roaring lions. Ruggie asks if you’d be interested in him recreating a story that his aunt taught him as a child: The Coming of the Prince. You allow him to do that, so you witness Ruggie conduct the march of the savanna’s animals as they walk the plains to meet the newborn lion prince at he King’s towering rock home. It’s already difficult enough to make one animal move with his hands, but two? Your eyes are going cross-eyed just watching him.

Along with the hand puppetry, he sings the song of the Prince’s Arrival. His sweet voice when he’s not blasting his vocal chords to the heavens has brought you more peace than the entire school week has to offer. You are so groggy; you end up falling into Ruggie’s chest, clocking out. Ruggie’s classic laugh hisses as he watches you drift off to dreamland. It’s not the camping trip he’s always wanted, but a night with you can top that any day of the week.

[starks-kid]

okay, so here's my good omens season 3 bingo, but its a list cause it was too long (and very chaotic):

1) aziraphale's statue on earth

2) Queen's 'love of my life' at any point

3) crowley's fall flashback as the first scene

4) shades of gray

5) toast 'to us'

6) 'do that again'

7) AZIRAPHALE DANCING THE I WAS WRONG DANCE

8) and flashbacks from his previous dances (1650, 1793, 1941)

9) and an actual apology with actually saying 'i am sorry'

10) aziraphale finally going with a worse insult than 'bad angels' (BONUS POINTS IF IN FRONT OF CROWLEY!)

11) muriel with wings, cause i think it would be adorable <3

12) god's narration is back. and her somehow intervining/talking with aziraphale or crowley

13) will we finally get aziraphale calling crowley "my dear"?!? just so sweetly and tenderly that everyone will melt

14) picnic in a garden ("it stars, as it will end, with a garden")

14) NO BEARD AZIRAPHALE

15) azira reading documents on crowley in heaven

17) there's not enough time, but newt and anathema returning would be awesome

18) 'look at you, youre gorgeous' but to azira this time

19) an agressive 'i love you' from crowley

20) long hair crowleyyyy

21) that 1941 photo

22) third part of the 1941 minisode

23) aziraphale's diary

24) rooftop scene from s2 intro

25) flashback with azira and crowley fem presenting (but for hells sake, not with different actors!)

26) more of crowley and muriel interactions. i love these two so muchhh

27) paralell to the conversation about making nina and maggie fall in love

28) them kissing to "a nightingale sang in berkeley square", more specifically to:

'And as we kissed and said goodnight

A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square'

PLEASE. THAT WOULD BE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL CLOSING SCENE

29) muriel wearing their own human outfit

30) crowley (drunkenly) crying in the bookshop. or in the bentley

im really hoping at least some of these will happen. anyways, thanks for reading my ramblings

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’

16 - sending them photo updates of what you’re doing

prompts from promptingyou

PAIRING: insomniac!peter parker x gn!baker!reader

TAGS: peter’s pov, fluff, idiots in love, pre spider-man 1 (essentially fisk hasn’t been taken down yet and all the sad shit that followed soon after), reader knows pete is spidey, matt murdock mention (sort of?)

A/N: honestly any version of peter works too but i’ve fixated back onto the games so insomniac!peter was who i envisioned while writing this. i also apparently don’t know what other trope to write besides established relationships or idiots in love… anyways, happy reading <3 

WORD COUNT: 551

masterlist || request box <3

“Working on it, Yuri! Call you when I’m done,” he managed to get out as he fought Fisk’s goons. It was hard enough fighting off bad guys that seemed to never end, but to have someone in his ear telling him to hurry up when he was working as fast as he could got infuriating at a certain point.

As he webbed up someone to the wall, he rolled his neck and groaned. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” Just as he sent a goon flying upwards, his mask’s UI lit up.

Incoming Message: Y/N 💖

Immediately after, a photo flashed. It was a picture of the cake you made for a kid’s birthday party—a Spider-Man themed birthday party. It was round and had red and blue fondant with black piping to imitate the webs across his suit. At the very center was his white logo and a tiny sign wishing the kid a happy birthday.

Peter smiled at the sight but was immediately interrupted by his spider sense, causing him to jump up as he dodged gunfire. Before long, all the bad guys were webbed up, their weapons thrown far, far away from their reach. Swinging away, he looked for a good place to stop to send you a message back. As he flipped through the air, he realized what building he was near. Bingo.

Running up the side of the building, a smile returned to his face in anticipation. As soon as he was perched up at the very top of the building, he carefully took out his phone and posed. Satisfied with the way it turned out, he hit send and waited for a response. He didn’t have to wait long.

Y/N 💖: 😨 how you can get up that high amazes me Y/N 💖: be safe love u ❤️

Your message made his heart warm. If he wasn’t at the top of the Empire State building and his mask wasn’t on, the entirety of New York City would see how red his face got.

In a lovesick haze, he leaned back, letting gravity pull him back down to earth but even then, he felt like he was in heaven. You were only his best friend, but Pete had been in love with you since you two met. Of course, he was too shy to say anything in fear of losing you completely. Swinging through the streets, he eventually made it to where your little bakery was set up in Hell’s Kitchen.

“Spider-Man,” you greeted, your eyes softening at the sight of him. “And what brings our Friendly Neighborhood hero to my neck of town?” Your voice was soft as you spoke but backed with a teasing tone.

“Just making sure no one’s messing with my favorite baker,” he grinned.

“Don’t worry, I know there’s a pretty good lawyer down the block if I’m ever in a pickle,” you bantered.

His chest filled with joy at the mere sight of you. And that smile. He’d die happy knowing he was the one who put it there. At the sounds of police sirens, you both turned your heads in the direction they came from. “Looks like you’re needed elsewhere, Spidey.”

“See you around,” he beamed, cheerfully saluting before shooting a web and swinging off.