#how do they react to each other. how does Your Skin react to all of them at once.

[parfaitblogs]

i knew it, i know you ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your boyfriend comes to find you amidst radio silence, and you finally let out all your frustrations and insecurities. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst tags: ambiguous ending. certified overthinker reader. effie trinket would hate you for what you do to mahogany. argument. they yell at each other. everyone is angry n mean. :(. word count: 3k a/n: me when fine shyt starts flirting but i've already convinced myself everything he says is a genius manipulation technique that i need to outsmart before he adds me to his list of gullible weak victims. this was a vent piece from like 3 weeks ago. still relevant. love u.

You'd be a very successful magician. Vendors and patrons would move Earth just to see your disappearing act in person, to see if it's as brilliant and mind boggling as people say it is. If you were as talented as rumours say.

You'd say so.

A flickering lamp illuminates mahogany. Mahogany you hadn't cleaned in weeks. Mahogany you hadn't sat at in weeks. A thin layer of dust tells the story of how it sat untouched. Neglected. It's wondering of when you were coming home. If you were. If you'd ever swipe a rag over it again, lay down a tablecloth, set it with silverware you only have one set of. 

You would. You would. You promised you would. You placed a hand on it when you left that odd Thursday and whispered you'd return eventually. A silent deal with yourself you'd never get rid of it. Spoken aloud when you inherited it from grandparents now deceased. Then, swept up in an ill fated fairytale that kept you from coming back to it. Another table, not quite as nice, not nearly as expensive, discovered the lines of your palms amidst debate. The edge of your elbows to hold up forkfuls of food. Your thighs, pressed up against the sides. Attention given to something cheaper, and the dust sprites atop this table taunt you for it. 

You're not staring at it, though. Transfixed, instead, on how the lamp barely provides light for the rest of the apartment. Cautioning on the side of blowing any second now. You'd be thrust into darkness so fast you wouldn't know how to react. Maybe you'd stumble around a bit; try to find your phone for a light. Maybe you'd sit in the black. Let the air still, seeping into your bones until you are as good as air that does nothing. Perhaps you already are. 

You don't get the chance. 

Somebody's fist raps against your front door. You know who. It's politely quiet, but eagerly fast. Seeking you out quickly after seven damp days of radio silence, to find if you've died or not. 

You should be hastier. A soon to follow knock announces that for you. Yet, you're a soul on the ceiling, watching an uninhabited sack of skin walk towards the banging fist, turn the door handle, and let an uncomfortable flood of light into the apartment. 

He must recognise the hollowness in your eyes, because he doesn't say anything as he enters your apartment. A quip about how you didn't invite him in manifests on your tongue, but then you remember he doesn't know there's a problem between you two. 

"What a joyous apartment you have," he says, flicking the light switch to light up the rest of your neglected apartment. The last book you were reading found on the edge of your couch, face down and open, the spine creased beyond repair. A glass once full of water now sits empty — evaporated — on the kitchen counter. A duffel bag of two people's mixed clothes and travel sized shower products on the floor next to your feet. 

"What're you doing here?" you ask him, feet firmly planted in the entryway. You couldn't move even if you wanted to. 

He does, though. He freely moves around and it's as if no time has passed. He is more at home in your apartment than you have been all week. Guiltily, you feel resent well in your stomach. How dare he come in and act as though nothing has happened?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know. You repeat the mantra until he speaks again, for it is not his fault you are upset over something you made up in your head. A narrative only the worst parts of your brain can entertain. 

"Well, you disappeared for a week," he states, palms pressed against your kitchen bench as he leans against it. "I got worried."

"Why?"

What a stupid, stupid question to ask him. 

"Because you disappeared for a week," his words come out tantalisingly slowly, as if he's trying to explain to a toddler. Perhaps he is. As old as you are, you seem to feel like the five year old who resides inside you more often than not. Pathetic sentiment. 

"Forgive me for not being a constant presence in your life," you say. It isn't meant to bite, but your tone of voice comes out too sharp for it to not, and he is all too quick to catch it. 

"Sorry?" 

You freeze. Time stands as still as it has all week. The light bulb of your desired lamp blows, and you distantly hear it pop. It no longer matters; your overhead lights are on, courtesy of the man standing before you. You feel plunged into the dark anyways. 

"I didn't mean that. Sorry," you deflect, and a smile that doesn't reach your eyes is sent his way. Not that you look at him. Too afraid of what his eyes will say to yours if you lock them together, you keep your gaze on your couch. 

"Yes you did."

Well, fuck, Spencer. Guess you know everything there is to know about everything. 

You accept the defeat. "Yes I did."

"Explain, please?"

Wordlessly, you shake your head, and the inside of your cheek finds its way between teeth. "It's mean."

"Then be mean."

"No. I—I can't," you shake your head. "It doesn't really matter."

His lips press together, and you can feel the nausea in your stomach churn. "It doesn't matter?"

Your head shakes again, "Mm-mm."

"Well, great. You've got an issue with me that causes you to disappear for a week, but it's all good because it doesn't matter?"

Oh.

"I don't have an issue with you," you lie, but God forbid you do such a thing in front of a profiler. 

"You do. Clearly, or else you wouldn't be this hostile with me. What have I done?" he's gotten off the kitchen bench. He's closer to you. Or, maybe, he's just risen his voice, and he hasn't moved an inch. 

You're entirely not present enough to figure out which it is. 

"Spencer, you haven't done anything. It's all stuff inside my head," you shake your head, again, and it's done so violently you can feel the contents of your brain shake within your skull.

No you can't. No you can't. You're imagining that to worsen your own feelings. Nobody can feel that. Everything inside of it is so loud, and Spencer is no longer Spencer. Rather, a lifeless, faceless entity occupying your apartment. You don't even recognise him. 

"Then tell me what's inside your head, honey, please—"

He doesn't even sound like Spencer anymore. 

"—It's so mean. I can't."

You don't sound like you.

"Then be mean!"

"You're exhausting to be around!" 

You snap, and he falls silent. For once, he doesn't have something to respond with. You're grateful, somewhere inside of you. The same place the urge to backtrack and try to make things alright again comes from. You're usually ruled by that place. 

Today, you are not. 

"You are so exhausting to know. I am so fucking exhausted. I spend my life jumping through hoops to get you to talk to me, to notice me. I mean, you only care when I'm doing exactly what you want. Naked. You only care when it's convenient. When there is nobody else there to satisfy you, nobody you actually want, you will call for me. Right? You have to fill the hole in your heart somehow. Your stupid, incessant need to have somebody there at all times. Why can't you sit with yourself? Alone? You grew up alone, right?" 

It's such a mean thing to say. For a second, you're outside your ablaze mind, and instead watching you say all these awful things to the man you claim to love. Love. How could you possibly love anyone you speak to like this? "You've been alone before. You can't be alone some more?" he's taken steps towards you, and gentle hands on your waist have you inhabiting your body once again. You're crying. Warm, fat tears falling down your face, but he doesn't try to wipe them away. "Why am I just a piece in a—in a fucking chess game? Does that analogy make it make sense for you now, Spencer? You are playing me like chess. How fucking dare you!"

So much of your energy is exerted into pounding your fists against his chest, and he just lets you. Every word you spoke corresponding with another hit. He doesn't do anything until you exhaust yourself, and your hands fall limply by your sides again.

Then, he speaks, in a voice so calm you think you imagined your outburst. "What have you found?"

"What?"

"What have you found?" 

"Nothing," panic rises in your chest. "I—I don't understand why I had to have found something—"

"—This isn't coming from nowhere," he observes. Then, it clicks. His understanding of your brain coming to the forefront of his mind. "Unless it is. All this talk about my inability to be alone, did I leave you alone for too long? Is that where this is coming from? Are you spiralling and making up a narrative about me and then, evidently, taking out your frustrations at a made up problem on me?"

"No," your voice strains. "I mean, I did find something, but it's stupid now."

"It's stupid now," he parrots, condescendingly. "Stupid as in, you think you're going to be ridiculed for being upset about something valid, or stupid because it is not valid at all?"

"That's—you're being mean," you stammer, but even as you say them, the words sound unjust. 

He must laugh mockingly, or maybe he's belittling you with it. Unkind words being thrown, and now you're trying to make him the bad guy. What a breathtaking reveal of your expert victimisation.

"I'm being mean?" his tone is incredulous. "Me? Coming from the girl who said I'm, what, exhausting to be around? To know? I'm the mean one?" 

Yeah, okay, you deserve that.

"You're invalidating what I'm saying—"

"—I'm regurgitating your own words back at you!" he snaps. "You said it was stupid. You. Not me."

Let me speak. "Spencer—"

"—The latter, then. You're embarrassed to admit that."

Let me speak. "Spencer—"

"—Whatever it is you found, I don't care. I can't imagine you've found anything."

You stare at him, waiting. Waiting for him to continue, to berate you some more, to offend you so deeply you can find a real reason to be upset with him. Right now, there is nothing but overthinking his gestures, and blowing things out of proportion. 

"It's little things."

"Little things," he clarifies. 

"Yeah."

You hear him sigh. He's exasperated. "I'm gonna need more than that."

"Like—like..." you're stammering again, your brain folding over itself to find something you can bring up to him that doesn't sound utterly insane. You aren't insane. 

Right?

"Like when I left early the morning after sex for work?" he cuts in, and your chest tightens. Not because his words are mean — though, they are — but because they are true. "Did you think I didn't want you anymore? Or when I didn't call you back for two days because I was on a case? Those little things?"

"I guess."

"Right," he nods. "So, again, did I leave you alone for too long you spiralled into making up narratives about me?"

"They're not narratives—"

"—You've wholly convinced yourself I am a bad person!" you flinch at how loud his voice is, and for a moment, he pauses. He softens, his tensed arms relaxing, and he's sure to take a comforting step back from you. "You're so sure of this idea that I am using you for sex, and I don't want you for anything else, and only when I am bored, or lonely," still silent, he studies your face for a reaction. Whatever he finds mustn't satisfy him, because he continues. "I don't text you constantly because I don't want to be overbearing. I don't hierarch my friendships by how often I talk to someone. Rather, by what I spend my time with them doing. Being with you is so easy. I love being with you. Yes, I like having sex with you too, because I am attracted to you, and that's something we've established. If that has changed, and this is a long, winding way to tell me that, then please—"

"—It hasn't changed," you're quick to correct him.

"Okay," he nods again, firmer this time. "Then, I don't understand why you can't just talk to me. Why can't you just talk to me? Why do I have to be insulted before you communicate with me? It feels almost unfair."

It is unfair. You know that. The thought appears in your brain every single time an insult flies out of your mouth. 

Yet, you can't stop. 

"You're ridiculing me right now. Why do you think I can't communicate with you? You make me feel small. Like—like my feelings aren't valid, and I'm crazy! Am I crazy? Do you think I'm crazy, Spencer? Do you hear me say all these things I think about you and go, fuck, this girl is a psycho? You must. Or else you wouldn't be here," there's a look of recognition behind your eyes that scares him. Your lips twitching, a sardonic laugh leaving them. "You find it fascinating, don't you? Figuring out my brain. Why I do the things I do, why I feel the way I feel. I have a brain you can psychoanalyse for your sick pleasure, so of course you don't leave!"

"No. That's not why I'm here," he speaks so calmly, and you know you've touched a nerve. You feel bad, somewhere. Outside of this untouchable blackout, you're apologising to him. Over, and over, and over. 

"I'm here because I like you," when you open your mouth to mock him, he cuts you off, "did you know I think about you constantly? Everything I do I think of you. I find books I've read in stores, and think of you, and how you'd love them. I see posters for movies I have no desire to watch, but consider asking you to go see them because you mentioned liking the lead actor in passing. Every case, I am picking up the phone on the first ring in case it's you asking how it's going. I care so deeply for you, and this is confusing me a lot, hurting me a lot, because I didn't realise you weren't aware of that. But I can't reassure you every week that I do like you."

You stare at him. "Then you don't really know me. I said really early on that I'm insecure."

"I didn't think it would be this bad."

This bad. 

"It's not my fault you can't step outside yourself."

This bad.

Your chest aches, and you can feel every single familiar feeling in your body dissipate. Once again, just a sack of skin standing in the centre of your apartment, looking at a boy who has so much distaste for you in this moment, his anger is silent. 

Quietly you murmur, "Then I can't do this."

"Yeah," he breathes. "Me neither. You're exhausting too."

And then he's gone. 

Silence. 

There is so much silence when you are alone like this. His final words echoing in your brain, following your conscience down to the depths of it. Ruminating beneath years — decades — of mistreatment, insults. Every single layered brick that built the person you are today rotting in the pit of your brain, with the last thing Spencer Reid ever said to you, fresh; hot. 

He left, and you're stuck with the silence of your apartment. The door that fell shut taunting you, for it was the last thing you possess to feel the touch of his hands. Gentle hands that used to hold you as you cried like this, letting you soak his skin with tears and then taking you out to the rooftop to watch the stars. Loving hands that used to push buttons you never knew to exist until he pushed them, emitting sounds you didn't know you could make until he emitted them. Kind hands, that would hold your waist when in a crowd of people; your face as he kissed you. 

You pick yourself up off a floor you don't remember falling to, stumbling over feet too fast for your brain, trying to get away from here. Here, where he yelled at you, and you; him. Here, where he told you your brain is too bad for him to deal with. Here, where he left you. 

You find your bathroom.

Uncomfortable, fluorescent lighting blinds you as you find solace in the cold tiling; the chipping painted cabinetry. Trembling hands fish your phone out of your pocket, and you stare at the black screen on the device for so long you must go insane. Burning the barely there image of your teary face into your mind, going over every single thing he said to you tonight. Every single cruel thing you said. 

Guilt creeps up on you, twisting its way through your gut and up to your throat. Choking you, until you're gasping for air, eyes wide. 

"No," you stutter, the word leaving your lips too many times, your head spinning. Fingers burying into your hair, phone clattering to the floor. "No."

At some point, sobs calm down, and tears dissipate. You find your footing within yourself again, furniture becomes furniture again, objects are objects. Your brain is no longer closing in on itself. 

You unlock your phone and find his contact. 

It rings for minutes. Probably only seconds. So loud in the silence of your apartment, and every ring inches open the door of regret. 

The line clicks. Quiet follows.

Quiet, not silence. Though you are breathing heavily to yourself, you are not alone with your thoughts, and it is not the only sound you can hear. 

There, through the phone, you can hear him breathing too. 

[ladsrlife]

What are you doing step brother???!!!

Caleb x Reader

Where you start living with your step-brother for uni and the relationship starts to take an interesting turn...

Chapter 1💗

Chapter 2💗

Chapter 3💗

(I don't proof read so pls excuse me if there are some awkward sentences!!)

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

Chapter 4

Something within you has changed.

Ever since the two of you made up, Caleb has returned to his confident, playful self, teasing you every chance he gets.

The problem is, you don’t know how to react anymore.

It’s like you’re broken.

When he headlocks you, the old you would’ve been half annoyed and push him away without much thought Now, all you can focus on is his warmth, his scent, and how thick and hard his biceps are around your neck.

When you lock eyes with him, you wonder how much eye contact you should be making with him, before looking away with your heart beating inside your throat.

Did he always stare at you like that? like the gentle warmth of twilight? Enough to make your insides swirl?

Even his aura seems to have changed. The way he carries himself draws you in like a fly trap. It’s like the air around him is sweeter, deeper, thicker. Like flowers that bloom first in spring, his existence is vivid and beautiful and makes everything else seem grey and bleak.

And images - explicit images that you shouldn’t be thinking about Caleb - especially that dream (you’ve decided that it was a dream) of Caleb moaning against your feet and touching himself - intrude your mind no matter how much you try to fight it.

The more it calls to you, the more you realize that your love for Caleb has distorted into something so shameful you can’t dare admit, not even to yourself.

But despite the shame gnawing at your insides every waking second, you just don’t have it in you too pull away from him.

So you subconsciously draw closer to him - just enough to placate the gnawing desires and keep you sane - like a droplet of water offered to a thirsting man - but not enough to completely cross the line.

On Sunday, the second day after movie night, Caleb shows you around downtown.

You walk past skyscrapers and stroll along the beachside piers, the salt-kissed breeze tangling your hair, and soft early-spring sunlight on your skin. You stay close - close enough that your arm brushes against his every chance you get. Caleb doesn’t pull away.

And when he laughs at something you say and casually drapes an arm around your shoulder, just like he often does, you take the opportunity to lean in and press your side firmly against his. For a moment, he goes still - just a flicker of hesitation - before pulling you in tighter.

What would’ve been the usual fleeting touch stretches into something lasting - his arm returns to your shoulder, and the entirety of his torso, hips, and thighs press into yours again and again, like it’s normal. Like the two of you have been glued to each other your whole life.

And you’re swept along with it - with the ease of his touch, the way it feels so natural, so thoughtless, like this is just how it’s supposed to be.

The way his palm covers yours completely when he leans in to steal a bite of your lobster hotdog.

The way he tucks away the strands of hair the sea breeze displaces, his fingers brushing your skin without pause.

The way he gently grabs your wrist to guide you through a crowded area.

You wonder whether his touches always lingered this much, or you’re just noticing it now.

By the end of the day, your skin feels electric. You’re buzzing from having felt too much for too long.

It’s like you’re on a high. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a passing mirror and notice that your cheeks are flushed like a little baby.

And when you’re sitting beside Caleb on the tram ride back, trading lazy chatter with your knee touching his, you notice the slight glow in his expression. He looks a little elated and a little more jittery than usual. You wonder whether he feels the same.

You unwind after arriving home. After changing into your pajamas, you lay on your bed and try to distract yourself from your jittery insides. You open your journal, scribble some mindless notes, try to focus on social media content, scribble some more, reply to some texts, try meditation… you’re nearly losing it when Caleb knocks on your door.

“Hey pips. You wanna watch something together?” He asks with a hand on his neck.

There’s no way you could say no. All your efforts of calming yourself go down the drain as you join him on the couch for a show.

You try to sit far away from him, but he gives you a look with an eyebrow raised and you cave in like a paper in the wind. Grinning like an idiot, you scoot closer, leaving just enough space for your conscience.

“What do you wanna watch?” His asks, voice a perfect mix of light and low. It sounds almost… lewd. “What about this one? I heard the actors actually started dating after filming this.”

“Sure.” You say, barely registering his words. You’re too focused on the rise and fall of his chest with every syllable.

Not long after the show starts, Caleb’s arm finds his way around your shoulder again. You’re not too sure if he pulls you in, or if you lean in. You rest your head against his shoulder, and hear a shaky sigh from above.

You lazily play with his fingers that hang around your shoulder.

Suddenly wet, sticky noises and breathless gasps fill the room as the actors on screen start making out like the world is ending. You blink, trying to piece together what you missed. But you’ve been too focused on… other things.

You try to suppress the vulgar thoughts that pop into your head - the images that swap the actors with you and a certain someone - when you hear a frustrated breath above your head.

The next thing you know, Caleb is pulling you into a hug.

You bite your lip to stop a sound from escaping - why does your body feel so hypersensitive? As you wrap your arms around his waist, he lets out a low, hoarse voice, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re driving me crazy, pips…”

His voice shoots straight down your stomach and heat pools where you don’t want to admit.

A quiet whimper slips out.

His hand finds its way from the base of your neck to your cheek, and he leans back enough to meet your gaze.

His eyes are dark, and hungry.

You’ve never seen them like this.

It scares you as much as it excites you.

His eyes shift lower to your lips. You know exactly what he’s thinking. You shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. But your mind goes blank. All you can stare at are his pink ones.

But then he swallows, hard. And averts his gaze. The palpable tension between the two of you dissipate, and he lets out a low sigh before pulling you in again, rubbing his cheek against yours.

You release the tension you weren’t so aware of, and lean into his embrace. All the while, you convince yourself, your stupid, stupid self,

that this is perfectly,

what normal step siblings do.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

Hope you guys enjoyed this!!!

Will try to update at least once a week :D (I'm actually on vacation now and have tons of time. Maybe I'll just speed through it while I have the chance)

Likes and comments are life <3

[pandapool]

-- Panda's Poolverine Recs -- ❤️‍🩹Hurt/Comfort Edition❤️‍🩹

an inconclusive list of Hurt/Comfort Poolverine Fics I've read & enjoyed

💛 You've begun to feel like home by Katirina_caffrey Mature | 15,7K

3 time Wade and Logan hurt each other, +1 time they healed each other.

❤️ i wanna know what it's like to feel your heart beating from the inside by NotesAppWitch Explicit | 15,3K

“Warm like…” Wade hears himself say, and he slurs a little because he’s actually drooling. “Like good warm.” “Good warm,” Logan repeats uncertainly. He says it like Wade is dumb, like he’s a dumb idiot and he’s gonna yell at him and make him feel a little stupid and Wade loves when he does that. Wade can feel Logan’s eyes on him, mean and hot and heavy on the bit of Wade’s exposed face and then lower, down his heaving chest to where Wade is twitching his hips up against nothing, desperate. “Wade,” Logan scolds, and Wade swallows back a little noise at his name being used so harshly and in that tone. “Now is not the fuckin’ time.” “Would you believe me, babygirl, if I said that this time—“ the car hits a tiny bump and Wade makes a little mmh! “—this time it’s not me?” “What are you saying? That the powder in the bullet made you horny?” he laughs wryly. “Sure you don’t just have a thing for guns?” “I have a well established thing for guns,” Wade pants as he grinds a hand against himself through his suit just to relieve some fucking pressure. “As do you, mon petit chou.”

💛 Feel Good, Broken Man by farmhandler Explicit | 11,5K

Logan lifted his head to watch Wade walk into the room like he hadn’t just done the electric slide with a toaster and plop into the chair next to Logan. “Penny for your thoughts, peanut?” “Don’t fucking call me that,” Logan rumbled. “I mean it, Wade.” “You don’t actually hate it, do you? This is just our thing. I call you a cutesy nickname and you react like it’s the worst thing you’ve ever been called. You think about punching me. I think about that passionate kiss we shared, more often than I should or is healthy. Then we move on and do it all over again.” Logan leaned back in his chair and sighed. He really, really, really, really wanted a fucking drink.

❤️ If It Makes You Happy (Living In A House That Doesn't Slam Doors) by anderscones, RingDangDoo Mature | 8,8K

Unfortunately, Valentine’s Day doesn’t pan out for either Wade or Logan. They find that spending it together is better than spending it with the assholes they were meant to. Something hopeful flickers between them, but Wade will have to find an abundance of courage before they can even start to figure it out.

💛 Oh God, I think I'm fallin' by WonderWriter Teen and Up | 8,5K

Slowly Wade peels open his eyes, to find a large hand wrapped around the wrist of the Fucker. “Touch him again”, a voice says behind him, calm, deep, almost a growl, “And you die.” Wade falls in love, gets kidnapped and gets the guy. Exactly in this order. And then he even gets to keep him forever.

❤️ no strings to bind your hands by WhatIsAir Explicit | 5,9K

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wade snaps, rounding the table to jab a finger into Logan’s chest. “Was I meant to pretend it’s perfectly fine that you’re running around regularly getting the shit beaten out of you for a few grand?” “You followed me!” “You came home last week covered in blood!” “You come back from work covered in blood every day!” In which Logan makes rent through cage fights, and Wade thinks his talents would be much better spent joining the X-men.

💛 Seeing You by RogueFroggo Teen and Up | 3K

Logan’s gaze trailed down Wade’s body, his usual web of scars now overlaid with angry bruises and deep cuts. Blood had seeped through the suit, staining his skin in streaks that made Logan’s stomach twist. “Fucking hell, Wade,” Logan breathed out, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “It’s worse than it looks,” Wade said with a weak attempt at a grin, but even he winced, knowing how clearly untrue that was. “God Wade,” Logan exhaled sharply, “Why do you do this to yourself? I don’t fucking get it.” Wade looked away, his eyes refusing to meet Logan’s, shame etched into his face. Or; Wade is always throwing himself in danger as he doesn't care what happens to his body because he can heal anyway. But Logan doesn't like seeing Wade hurt and hates that Wade does that to himself.

❤️ life was good by rebslinger Not Rated | 2,3K

Nightmares were not exactly foreign to either of them with one of them being a 200+ year old vet and the other one being literally insane in the head with a tragic backstory. However, that didn’t mean that Wade was prepared to deal with Logan’s. aka Logan gets a nightmare and finally receives the comfort he deserves and they accidently confess their undying love for each other

💛 No Light, No Light by connorcosmics Teen and Up | 1,5K

"Sleeping wasn't hard for Wade. It rarely was a conscious decision, as the life of a merc wasn't the most forgiving. Passing out was the best way to go, especially when it involved a comfy bed and three to four warm blankets on top of him." or Wade has a nightmare and overheats, Logan gets worried and miscommunication ensues.

❤️ Night Vision by PurpleHippo666 Mature | 1K

Logan and Wade always have sex in the dark; Wade hates it because he thinks Logan doesn't want to see him. Logan loves it because he can see Wade best with the lights out.

If you have requests what trope/tag I should do next, feel free to drop them in my Inbox!

[gender-euphowrya]

you know how people warn not to mix cleaning products because the chemicals combined might create stuff like mustard gas

i feel like there should be the same common sense when it comes to skincare products

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

₊˚. ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹ KNEES AND NEED !

ੈ✩‧ paring : sylus, caleb, rafayel, xavier, zayne x bunny fem!reader

ੈ✩‧ warnings : nsfw/smut, vaginal, reader is implied to be chubby, cow girl, rough s*x, doggy style, hair pulling, chocking, spanking, nipple sucking & pulling, wall fucking, biting, dacryphilia & others!

ੈ✩‧ summary : how they react when their bunny girlfriend calls them daddy. ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

ੈ✩‧ note : dunno if this is out of character, they are all mean and rough here. also minors do not interact please!! also not proof read

－❤︎︎ SYLUS :

Sylus had you spread out beneath him, your chubby thighs hooked over his arms as he drove into you, slow and deep. His red eyes were locked onto your face, drinking in every little gasp, every quiver of your soft, plush body. You were dripping for him, your pussy stretched around the thick length of his cock, so wet he could hear the slick sounds every time he thrust forward. Your fluffy tail twitching with each thrust.

“Taking me so well, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. His grip tightened on your thighs, thumbs pressing into your soft skin as he ground against your clit. The friction sent a shockwave through you, making you whimper and squirm in his grasp.

That’s when it slipped out. Barely a breath, just a desperate little moan—

“Daddy…”

Sylus stilled. His cock throbbed inside you, your walls clenching around him at the sudden stillness. The air between you turned electric, and when you dared to look up at him, his expression had shifted completely. Those crimson eyes burned with something deeper, something darker.

“What did you just call me?” His voice was low, dangerous, dripping with need.

Your ears twitched, cheeks burning. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

His hips snapped forward, driving his cock into you hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. “No, you don’t get to take that back.” Another thrust, deeper, rougher. “Say it again.”

You gasped, body arching, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders. He was so deep, so thick, rubbing against the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “D-Daddy,” you whimpered, voice cracking.

Sylus let out a growl, one hand sliding down to your belly, pressing down just enough to make you feel every inch of him buried inside you. “Good girl,” he praised, rubbing slow circles over your clit, making you writhe beneath him. “You know what that does to me, don’t you?”

You couldn’t speak, only moan as he fucked into you harder, stretching you open, making your pussy pulse around him. He was relentless now, chasing the sound of your pleasure, of you falling apart for him.

“That’s it, little bunny,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath hot and ragged. “Daddy’s gonna fill you up nice and full—baby.” Sylus smirked while gripping your plush thighs.

Sylus’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers pressing into your soft skin hard enough to leave marks. His smirk was sharp, predatory, his red eyes locked onto yours with dark amusement.

“You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you, bunny?” he rasped, his voice thick with something possessive, something dangerously pleased. His hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, grinding his cock so deep inside you that your toes curled. “Calling me Daddy while I’m balls-deep in this perfect little pussy?”

You whimpered, thighs trembling against his arms as the heat in your belly twisted tighter. His words, his tone—it was overwhelming. Your ears twitched as you tried to turn your head, but Sylus wasn’t having it.

“Oh no, don’t go getting shy on me now.” His free hand slid up, fingers wrapping around your throat—not to squeeze, just to hold you there, to make you feel him. “Say it again. Let me hear you beg for Daddy’s cock.”

The way he said it made your insides clench, your pussy fluttering around his thick length. He groaned, the sensation sending a shudder through his broad frame, his control slipping just a little.

“D-Daddy, please,” you gasped, fingers curling into his forearms, nails dragging over his skin.

“Fuck,” he growled, his restraint snapping.

He drove into you harder now, setting a brutal rhythm that had your back arching off the bed. His cock slammed into that spot deep inside you, each thrust making your vision blur, making your fluffy tail twitch wildly against the sheets.

“Such a good girl,” Sylus praised between ragged breaths, his hand on your belly pressing down just enough to make you feel every inch of him. “Look at you, taking Daddy’s cock so fucking well. You love it, don’t you?”

You could only nod, too lost in the pleasure to form words. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing in tight, relentless circles that made your whole body jolt. The pleasure was unbearable, a dizzying, intoxicating thing that had you spiraling toward the edge.

Sylus grinned, his own control slipping as he felt your pussy start to tighten around him. “That’s it, little bunny,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder. “Cum for Daddy—let me feel you fall apart on my cock.”

And when you did, when your body clenched around him so tight it dragged a deep, guttural moan from his lips, Sylus followed right after—filling you up just like he promised.

－❤︎︎ CALEB :

Caleb leaned back against the headboard, his toned chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he watched you sink down onto his cock. His hands gripped your plush thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as you took him inch by inch, stretching around his thick length.

“Shit, bunny,” he groaned, head tilting back for just a second before snapping forward again, his sharp purple-ish eyes locking onto you. “So fuckin’ tight—like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, hands bracing against his chest as you adjusted to the stretch, your bunny ears twitching. His cock was so deep, pressing right against that spot inside you that made your whole body tremble.

Caleb smirked, his grip tightening, thumbs stroking over your thighs. “C’mon, baby, don’t go shy on me now. Ride me.”

You started to move, lifting yourself just enough before sinking back down, the slow drag making you shudder. Caleb groaned, his fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to take control, to flip you over and fuck you senseless. But he wanted to watch you do it—wanted to see the way you lost yourself on his cock.

“That’s it, just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. His hands slid up to your waist, guiding your movements, helping you pick up the pace. The sound of slick, wet skin meeting filled the room, each bounce making your tits jiggle, your bunny tail twitching behind you.

Then it slipped out, barely more than a breathy moan—

“Daddy…”

Caleb froze. His hands clenched on your waist, his cock twitching deep inside you. His blue eyes darkened, something dangerous and hungry flashing through them.

“…The hell did you just call me?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something raw.

Your face burned, ears drooping slightly as you tried to brush past it, to keep moving. But Caleb wasn’t having that.

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” His hands shot to your hips, holding you still, keeping you seated fully on his cock so you could feel every inch pulsing inside you. “Say that again.”

You swallowed hard, your body trembling under his heated gaze. “…D-Daddy.”

A sharp inhale, then a slow, wicked grin spread across Caleb’s face.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his grip tightening. “You really tryna kill me?”

Before you could answer, he planted his feet on the bed and snapped his hips up, fucking into you so hard your breath hitched. The sudden force had you falling forward, hands bracing against his shoulders, and Caleb chuckled, smug and pleased.

“That’s more like it,” he rasped, meeting each desperate bounce with deep, powerful thrusts. “Knew my sweet little bunny had a filthy side.”

His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. The pleasure shot straight through you, white-hot and overwhelming, your walls clenching around him.

“Daddy’s gonna make you cum so hard,” he groaned, snapping his hips up again. “Gonna have you milking my cock—c’mon, baby, let me feel it.”

And when you finally shattered, body trembling, pussy pulsing around him, Caleb groaned loud, pulling you down fully onto his cock as he filled you up, just like he promised.

－❤︎︎ RAFAYEL :

Rafayel had you on your hands and knees, his grip firm on your hips as he fucked you deep and steady. His pink and blue eyes were locked onto the way your plush body trembled beneath him, your soft thighs quivering, your fluffy bunny tail twitching with each sharp thrust. The wet sounds of your slick pussy taking him so well filled the room, along with his low, controlled breaths and the occasional rough groan.

“Tch,” he muttered, his voice laced with amusement and condescension. “Look at you. Pathetic.”

You shuddered, his cruel words sending a sharp pulse of heat straight to your core. Rafayel was always like this—biting, arrogant, a man who wielded control like a blade. And yet, you could feel it in the way his fingers dug into your skin, in the way his pace stuttered for just a second when your walls fluttered around him. He was just as affected as you were, even if he wouldn’t say it.

A wicked idea sparked in your mind, and before you could second-guess yourself, the word slipped past your lips, breathy and sweet—

“Daddy.”

Rafayel froze.

His grip on your hips tightened to the point of bruising, his cock throbbing inside you as the weight of that single word sank in. The air turned thick with tension, an eerie silence stretching between you before he finally spoke.

“…The fuck did you just call me?” His voice was low, dangerously quiet.

Your ears twitched, your face burning, but you forced yourself to stay still, to feign innocence. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

A sharp, sudden thrust cut you off, knocking the air from your lungs.

“No.” His tone was a warning, a command. “You don’t get to take that back.” Another deep, punishing thrust, forcing you to take every inch of him. “Say it again.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets, your body trembling as the pleasure crashed over you in waves. He felt bigger now, heavier, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over you, his breath hot against your ear.

“D-Daddy,” you whimpered, barely able to get the word out.

Rafayel let out a low, guttural groan, something between a curse and a growl. His hands slid up your body, one gripping your waist while the other wrapped around your throat—not to squeeze, just to hold you in place. His pace turned brutal, his cock slamming into you over and over again, hitting that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice rough with desire. “You want Daddy to fuck you properly? Want to be filled up nice and full?”

You nodded desperately, too lost in the pleasure to speak.

Rafayel chuckled darkly, his fingers slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles against your clit. “Then take it, bunny. Take all of it.”

And when you finally came, body writhing, walls clenching down on him, Rafayel followed with a deep, shuddering groan—filling you up just like he promised.

－❤︎︎ XAVIER :

Xavier had you pressed against the cold wall of his quarters, your legs wrapped around his waist, your soft body caged between him and the unyielding surface. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted as he drove into you, slow and deep, making you feel every inch of him stretching you open.

His blue eyes burned into yours, half-lidded with lust, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “So needy. You’ve been squeezing around me ever since I put you up here.”

You whimpered, his words making the heat in your core tighten. His cock dragged against that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, the angle making it impossible to escape the overwhelming pleasure. Your bunny ears twitched, your fluffy tail quivering, and Xavier’s smirk widened.

“Aww, are your little ears twitching for me?” He teased, rolling his hips forward harder, making you cry out. “Fuck, that’s cute.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging desperately, and he let out a low chuckle. “Oh, you wanna play rough, bunny?”

Before you could respond, his hand shot up, wrapping around your throat, pinning you fully against the wall. His grip wasn’t tight—just firm enough to make you feel it, to remind you exactly who was in control. Your breath hitched, and Xavier leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Let’s see how much you can handle,” he purred.

His pace turned brutal, his hips slamming into you with an intensity that had your body shaking. You gasped, the pressure on your throat making everything sharper—the pleasure, the way his cock filled you so perfectly, the raw heat of his dominance.

Then, without warning, his free hand yanked your hair back, forcing your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown wide, a dark, hungry glint in those striking blue eyes.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he groaned, his fingers tightening just enough to make your breath stutter. “Choked up on my cock, all helpless and desperate. Bet you love this, don’t you?”

A strangled moan was all you could manage, and Xavier smirked.

“Oh, bunny, I felt that,” he cooed, his thumb stroking over your pulse. “Your pretty little pussy just clenched so tight around me. You want Daddy to ruin you, huh?”

The word slipped out before you could stop it. “D-Daddy—”

Xavier went still for half a second. Then, something dark flickered across his face, and his grip on your hair tightened.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

His next thrust was punishing, slamming so deep you saw stars. You sobbed his name—his new name—and Xavier groaned, his control snapping completely.

“That’s it,” he growled, fucking you harder, his hand pressing tighter against your throat. “Say it again. Beg for Daddy’s cock while I fill you up.”

You did—again and again—until your body shattered around him, and Xavier made good on his promise, burying himself deep inside you with a low, satisfied groan.

－❤︎︎ ZAYNE :

Zayne had you sprawled across his lap, your back pressed to his chest, legs spread wide as he bounced you on his cock. His strong arms were wrapped around your waist, keeping you trapped against him, making sure you took every inch of him as he thrust up into you, slow and deliberate.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned against your ear, his breath hot as his hands roamed over your soft body. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

You whimpered, head falling back against his shoulder, your bunny ears twitching as the pleasure built with every deep stroke. His cock dragged against that perfect spot inside you, stretching you open, making your body tremble from the intensity of it all.

“Z-Zayne,” you gasped, fingers clawing at his arms, trying to ground yourself.

His lips curled into a smirk. “What’s wrong, bunny? Can’t handle it?”

Without warning, he dipped his head down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder—sharp enough to make you gasp, but not enough to break the skin. The sensation sent a shudder through you, your walls fluttering around his cock as heat coiled tighter in your core.

Zayne chuckled, licking over the fresh bite before sucking hard, leaving a deep, possessive mark. “Mmm, you look so damn good covered in my marks,” he murmured, pressing another hickey just below your ear. “Gonna make sure everyone knows exactly who fucks you like this.”

His grip tightened on your thighs, his thrusts picking up pace, bouncing you harder on his cock. You sobbed his name, hands flying up to grasp his hair as the pleasure became overwhelming.

Then, in a moment of pure desperation, it slipped out—

“D-Daddy—”

Zayne stilled.

His grip on your body tightened, his cock throbbing deep inside you, and you could feel the low growl vibrating in his chest.

“The fuck did you just call me?” His voice was rough, edged with something dark and hungry.

You swallowed hard, your ears twitching, heat flooding your cheeks. “I—I didn’t mean—”

A sharp thrust cut you off, Zayne’s hands moving to grip your hips as he fucked into you harder, rougher, dragging out a cry from your lips.

“No, no, sweetheart,” he rasped, his teeth grazing your throat before biting down again. “You don’t get to take that back.”

His pace turned relentless, his cock slamming into you with a new kind of urgency. One of his hands slid up, wrapping around your throat, tilting your head to the side so he could see your dazed, desperate expression.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough against your skin.

You moaned, body arching, fingers digging into his arms. “D-Daddy—!”

Zayne groaned, his hand moving between your legs, rubbing tight circles against your clit. “That’s my girl,” he praised, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your breath stutter. “Daddy’s gonna fuck you stupid—gonna fill you up nice and full.”

And with another sharp bite against your neck, he did exactly that—fucking you through your high, making sure you felt every last drop of his release inside you.

Zayne didn’t let up. Even as your body trembled, even as your thighs quivered against his, even as you tried to catch your breath, he kept fucking into you—deep, deliberate, relentless.

Your vision blurred, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the overstimulation making your body shake in his grip. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over your cheeks, and Zayne groaned at the sight.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he rasped, his tongue tracing over the tear-streaked path down your cheek before pressing a soft, almost mocking kiss to your jaw. “Look at you. Cryin’ already?”

You let out a choked sob, gripping his arms as your body tensed around him. Every thrust pushed you further into the haze of pleasure, your mind melting from the intensity.

Zayne fucking loved it.

“God, you’re so pretty when you cry,” he murmured, tilting your head back to get a better look. His fingers brushed away a stray tear, only to press down on your clit again, drawing another desperate sob from your lips. “Bet you love this, huh? Daddy fucks you so good it makes you tear up?”

You nodded weakly, your breath coming in ragged little gasps. Your ears drooped slightly, your fluffy tail twitching in response to the overwhelming sensation coursing through you.

Zayne smirked, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your breath stutter. “Poor little bunny,” he cooed, mock sympathy lacing his voice. “Can’t even handle it, can you?”

A sob tore from your throat, and he groaned, his thrusts turning rougher, more demanding. He was obsessed—obsessed with how wrecked you looked, how every whimper, every gasp, every tear made you clench down around him even tighter.

“You’re gonna cry while I fill you up, aren’t you?” he growled, his teeth dragging along the shell of your ear before biting down hard. “Gonna be a good little bunny and take everything I give you?”

All you could do was nod, helpless beneath his touch, your body too lost in pleasure to do anything else.

And when he finally pushed you over the edge again—when your body shattered completely, sobbing his name as you came around his cock—Zayne groaned, burying himself deep and giving you exactly what he promised, his hands gripping you tight as he filled you up, claiming you in every possible way.

Even as your body went limp against his chest, the aftershocks making you shudder, he didn’t let go. He held you there, pressing lazy kisses against your tear—streaked cheeks, smirking as he whispered,

“That’s my good girl.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[fairestwriting]

Hello. I was wondering if I can please request the Savannaclaw boys reacting to accidentally walking in on fem!reader changing in Ramshackle? Knowing how much beastmen respect/fear women I feel like that would be hilarious 😆

IVE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS ONE FOR A WHILE…. my women respecting kings..

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

If you’ve known Leona for any amount of time, especially enough time for him to be visiting you for whatever reason, you know that he’s pretty much allergic to actually saying sorry. So the weirdly meek ”My bad, should’ve knocked. that he mutters can be very surprising to hear.

Even if you’re really close and comfortable with each other, he won’t be much more laid back about it. Sorry allergy be damned, he’s still apologizing and looking away every single time. Unless you actually stated, in straightforward words, that you don’t care if he walks in on you. He’d probably still close the door even in that case, honestly.

Even if you tease him for how quickly he puts aside his pride for this specific situation, Leona won’t argue against it. At most he’ll reply back with a snarky ”What, was I supposed to just stay and gawk?”, like the sheer idea of doing that is insane to him. And it genuinely is. If he notices you’re embarrassed yourself, right when he closes the door, he’ll quickly and plainly assure that he didn’t see anything. It may or may not be true, he has pretty sharp eyes, but— Really, he wasn’t raised in a barn. Leona does, in fact, have quite a few lines he won’t cross when teasing people.

𐙚 Ruggie Bucchi

With Ruggie, it doesn’t matter if you’re his friend, his girlfriend, or just an acquaintance. He will immediately turn away and shut the door. Whatever the reason was for his visit can wait, no matter what it is. ”Eek, sorry, I’ll wait outside! Uhm, and I won’t forget to knock next time!” He says, his pitch uncharacteristically high.

It’s not like he’s shy or scared you’ll get really mad or anything like that? He knows very well it’s not a big deal, it was an accident and he genuinely didn’t even look. Turning away instantly is just the right thing to do, in his mind. It’s probably not even the first time he walks in on a girl while she changes, considering he has his fair share of friends back home.

He apologizes again when you’re done, even bowing his head as he speaks, and promises he didn’t look at all if you seem embarrassed. And he really didn’t— Instinct just kicks in the second his brain registers the presence of bare skin. Literally right in the millisecond that it detected an unusual amount of whatever color your skin is.

Pretty much goes back to his usual self after everything is settled. Again, it’s just the right thing to do, to him. The natural thing to do even. You could try to express you don’t mind him seeing you, but regardless of what your reasoning is, Ruggie just shrugs and says, a bit awkwardly, that he just can’t bring himself to do that. It’s straight up not an option.

𐙚 Jack Howl

Gets flustered like he’s making up for Leona and Ruggie’s lack of real embarrassment— ”C-Close the door properly next time! He stutters, covering his face that grows increasingly red as he fumbles with the doorknob to close it, almost tripping on his feet.

He doesn’t react as fast as Leona or Ruggie, but just because he doesn’t really notice visuals as quickly as they do. So even though he’s technically the only one who lingered around the door, it’s unlikely he actually stared, even unintentionally.

He’s stuck between wanting to chide you for forgetting the lock and knowing deep in his soul that he should absolutely not do that, he was the one who showed up earlier than he was supposed to, he’s the one in the wrong here. In the end he doesn’t really say anything while he waits for you to finish getting dressed. Maybe just a mumbled apology or two, depending on how you reacted.

Can’t really look you in the eyes for a few hours. He just feels bad about it, like he’s been really rude to you by accident. Compared to the culture of other beastmen subspecies, especially Ruggie and Leona’s, his doesn’t emphasize a respect for women specifically as much, but it’s definitely still a thing. And it’s just part of his character too, underneath that tough guy persona, he doesn’t want to disrespect anybody. It takes him some reassurance to stop feeling guilty.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[anantaru]

— doing his eyeliner while sitting on his lap

including. xiao, neuvillette, zhongli

genre. fluff, gn! reader, slightly suggestive

— xiao

"hey, you're shaking xiao, i can't focus."

"tzzz, i'm not," xiao rasps— ugh, you're just so pretty, you know? with a faint dusting of light clinging to your eyes, delicate yet indifferent, as if the universe itself had carelessly bestowed it upon you. he believes there was something unsettling in your gentleness, a quiet radiance that seemed to exist beyond the confines of this world— beyond reason, beyond him.

his hands grip around your waist like you might disappear if he ever dared to let go of you as his ears were dusted a telltale red, to be fair, xiao cannot keep his hands of you, and in his opinion it should always be like this, never too far from each other— forever as he snuggles himself a little closer towards you.

you shift slightly, adjusting your position on his lap as he tenses like a tightly wound wire, his thighs firm beneath you, muscles twitching as if resisting the urge to latch onto you with his soft lips.

you bite back a smile, dipping the tip of the pencil against his lower lash line as his breath shudders, yet this wasn't fear, don't misread xiao for his reaction, it was not from discomfort— just something inside of him reacting almost fragile, tenderly beautiful yet he didn't quite know how to name such emotions.

"hah xiao, you're holding onto me like i might fall," you tease him, brushing your thumb under his eye to soften the colored line.

xiao swallows thickly, his gaze flickering, searching yours as his arms tighten around you, a quiet plea, a contradiction? "i wouldn't let you," he responds quietly, his words alone turning your heart aflame.

it was racing so fast to the point that it might rupture through the shape and flesh of your body. it's almost laughable how dearly you two adored each other— how the conqueror of demons, fierce and untouchable alike, was now just a man beneath your firm hands, coming undone over the slightest trace of your body moving atop.

his warmth seeps through his clothes, one by one, through yours, yes, burning into your skin where his hands grip your waist like he's afraid you'll slip away. he needs you, xiao does, and you can feel the faint tremor in his fingers as you press the liner to his other eye, his breath uneven, his body an open book— tense, passionate, but leaning into you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered.

"there," you whisper, pulling back slightly to admire your work.

xiao doesn't let go of you yet, instead he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his shuddering breath warm against your heightened skin, his touch a quiet fire, burning through your flesh and sinking deep into your very bones— although not with pain, but with the kind of warmth that made you realize you have always been cold without him.

"…do the other eye, please," xiao's voice was barely a muse, but you knew what he meant by it,

"stay,"

— zhongli

"I feel like you're enjoying this a little too much," zhongli finds it almost comical on how fast you could determine his mood as you accused him of the obvious— and the next smile he returned towards you felt slow as his hands easily rest at your thighs.

he tilts his head ever so slightly, offering himself up like something meant to be worshipped, when in fact, such was the case considering who he truly was.

"how could i not, love?" he exhales, his voice rich like aged wine dripping down the tip of your tongue— or honey, yes, now we got it, the sweetest of them all— spilling, slow and golden, from the corners of your mouth whenever you kissed him. as if even your lips cannot contain such excess, as if the world itself conspires to make you taste too much, feel too much, drown in the deep pleasure of it.

"my love, perched on my lap, so close, so intent, how could any man resist?"

you roll your eyes at him in order to hide your boiling all the more flustered expression, but the way your fingers tremble just slightly as you drag the liner along his lower lash line ultimately betrays you.

zhongli's amber gaze watches you, unreadable, indulgent as you bite down your lower lip, "hold still," and warn, ignoring the heat curling at the base of your spine.

"as you wish," he responds cheekily.

and yet, his voice descends— lower, smoother, as if sinking into the very marrow of the moment, curling like smoke in the hollows of your ribs, "though i wonder—" zhongli continues confidently, unraveling something unseen, something inevitable.

his hand slides up slowly, fingers curling at the nape of your neck, the touch featherlight, barely there, but you feel it like a brand, searing into your very being, leaving a mark of endless pleasure.

"—is it i who needs to stay still," his thumb brushes over your pulse,

"or you?"

your breath hitches as his lips curl at the edges with a slightly amused demeanor— an expression not quite a smile, not quite anything at all.

oh, he knows.

"i should stab you in the eye."

zhongli chuckles as his grip tightens, his chin slightly tilted, just a fraction, just enough that your noses almost brush, "if you must."

he winks, "though, i’d much prefer if you kissed me instead."

you swear the next line you draw on him will be just a little uneven.

— neuvillette

the storm groaned against the windowpanes, a ceaseless murmur like the whisper of some distant, unnameable grief as beneath you, neuvillette sat in stillness, his breath deep and steady— like an anchor against the restless howl of the wind.

his hands, resting with an almost absent-minded lightness upon your hips, betrayed neither urgency nor hesitation, only a quiet inevitability— the controlled rise and fall of his chest beneath your touch was steady, as if the weight of existence itself laid upon him and yet he bore it without complaint.

"you're very patient with me," you hum at him, your voice barely above the hush of the rain as your fingers find his chin, tilting his face with a careful adoration.

his skin was cool beneath your touch, smooth like polished marble— an artifact of restraint, a monument to something vast and unknowable, "and you're very careful," he replies, his voice low, "i find it… comforting."

you smile at him as your fingers trace slow paths along the delicate sweep of his lashes, the elegant lines of his face as the patience in him was almost sorrowful, an acceptance of longing as though he has lived with it for too long to protest.

then, without warning, he moves— a shift, so fluid and inevitable, and before you could catch your breath and register what was happening, neuvillette's face was buried in the curve of your neck, his lips barely parted against your skin.

an immediate warmth spreads through you, a heat that knots itself into the quiet places between your ribs.

although you freeze, your breath catches on something unnamed, something trembling between desire and disbelief;

"n-neuvillette?"

your voice sounded like a question, yet your body revealed an answer— your fingers curled at the nape of his neck, the press of his lips a silent confession.

his arms come around you at last, gathering you in, as though he has finally allowed himself this.

his nose brushes along your pulse, "mh? what were you saying?" as his arms tighten around your waist just slightly, holding— not trapping, just holding.

"you're supposed to sit still," you chide playfully, but your voice came out softer than you originally meant to.

he exhales, lips ghosting against your throat. "forgive me," he murmurs, "you are warm, i find myself comforted by your presence."

"—and you take such care of me."

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. in the name of you .

in a world where everyone forgot their own religion, it's not wrong for luka to look at your ethereal self and immediately mistake you for a divine being, no?

featuring : luka

cw : female reader, implied stalking(for just a little), luka is obsessed with reader, luka isn't obsessed with hyuna in here for the sake of the story lol🙇‍♀️

a/n : i made a till one, and now i'll make a luka one! i was trying to make it seems as if luka is obsessed with reader, but i was having a hard time showing it, and ended up making it seems like luka had become a better person after meeting reader lmfaoo😭🙏

from the moment humans were taken away forcefully by those disgusting aliens—they all had forgotten about their creators. the one who gave them life, the one who gave them the will to continue living. each day felt like a stab to the heart, it feels as if someone had taken your lungs out of your body, before putting it back inside again.

it feels empty, like a void.

while all the kids run around anakt garden happily, although not genuinely, all luka could do was lean on one of the trees, while holding his knees close to his chest. what can he do? what does people expect him to do? he is a weak child, a child born with diseases, a child unable to live without support from others, including the tree he is currently leaning on. without anything to lean on, to hold on to, what was he supposed to do, weak and dependent as he was?

nothing. he could only weep himself to sleep every day, and it changes nothing. he has heard from the other kids that there is a powerful divine being that could help you in times of distress, how it's called god, how you're supposed to believe in it for it to help you, and he did. luka believed in god for a day, but nothing had changed. his everyday life had remained the same.

like waking up early, even though he doesn't know what time it is because of all the fake painted skies the aliens put in the garden, go eat breakfast with the other kids, with no one else sitting besides—"hey, is this seat occupied?" in the midst of the suffocating silence, a cheerful, almost unreal voice had reached his ears. he had first thought that it was just his imagination, his desperate feelings of wanting to be accompanied by someone. but it wasn't, as the voice echoed in his ears once again.

"uh, hello...? did i catch you on a bad day? i'm so sorry, i'll find another seat then." after what felt like a minute, he finally looked up at the person talking to him, only to notice that they're gone. he clenched his fist in regret. he should've looked up earlier, he should've answered whoever that was, but he didn't. such a shame, he thought to himself.

after half an hour, luka finished his breakfast and was getting ready to leave, before being stopped by someone whose voice was so familiar to him, it almost feels as if he is dreaming. "hey, um... i'm really, really sorry for bothering you earlier. as an apology, i got some bread for you!" that cheerful voice had struck something inside him, his eyes grew wide slightly, and his hand trembles at the sight of you. if he were to believe in the divine, he would immediately get down on his knees and pray for you, an angel.

your soft gaze, your skin that looks almost as delicate and fragile as a glass, and your small fingers offering him the bread you got for him. it took him almost a minute to react, and all that came out of his mouth is just a small gasp, so small that even you can't hear it. "don't tell anyone about this though, but i stole it from someone's unfinished breakfast! so take it, please?" you shoved the bread to his face, which made him raise his eyebrows. but he took it anyway.

he examines the bread carefully, to which you took great offense. "i won't poison you, so there's no need to look at it so intensely!" you pout at him. if you squint your eyes really hard, you can notice the faintest hint of smile on his face, and probably the first time he has ever smile so genuinely.

his everyday routine had consisted of the same, basic thing. but, now that you talked to him, it changed his life forever. it changed his views of the world, of everyone. some kids may have believed in the divine from the moment they were born, but luka just believed in the divine the moment she graced himself with her kindness.

from then on, whenever luka woke up and entered the garden, the first thing—or person he looks for, is you. whenever he went to the cafeteria, the first person he approached is you, and when luka went to his first performance on stage, the first person he looks for in the audience is you, holding a cream-colored lightstick.

whenever luka goes anywhere, the first person he looks for, thought of, and wishes to see first... is you.

his god, his universe.

and if he happens to notice some... imbecile, or other people trying to approach you, he won't hesitate to show them that no one can approach his angel without consequences. no one other than him.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Every Part of You

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader A.N. - Alright, I've been asked to write about Bucky and Sunshine's first time many, many times. And the thing is, like sure, I could write that, but also I want us to take a moment to consider trying to build up to that. There's so many firsts buried in there that I think need to be navigated through before they even get there. This is one of those firsts. Like the first time you see Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

"You're just- " You stop speaking, searching for his lips again. Though you're breathless, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him, "You're so pretty."

You shudder as you feel his hand slip under your sweater. The occasional graze of the cool metal on your skin enough to send shivers down your spine.

His lips trail down, nipping at your jaw, "I'm not pretty."

Your hands, winded in the hair at the nape of his neck, glide down his neck, to clutch the fabric of his henley. The moment he feels your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt, his heart hammers against his ribcage. Not in the sort of way that he usually feels in these moments with you. He feels a sense of dread, of panic. It wraps around his spine like a python. It feels like he can't breathe.

"You're so -"

He wrenches away from you, his chest heaving, "Stop, stop, stop."

You freeze, immediately dropping your hands. Panic starts creeping up your throat, coating your words. "Did I - did I do something wrong?"

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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[moonstruckme]

hi, my love! i hope you’re doing okay!

i’d be really interested to see the protectiveness of the marauders and how it plays out in a poly!marauders dynamic. say something happens to r (can be as minor or as severe as you prefer). how would each marauder react and how would their dynamics bounce off each other? would it make the situation better or worse?

I find it funny picturing r attempting to wrangle all three of her boys from throwing hands (especially if it was a mistake or a miscommunication between r and the “offender”) and they’re bouncing off each other and riling themselves up more and she’s just like, ffs I’m so sorry and tries her best to manhandle her three boyfriends away for a stern talking to. Like, thank you guys for protecting me and all that but a) t’was a mistake / miscommunication, and b) i can sort my own shit and will ask if i need back up (Sirius in the back like no need to ask, i’m ready to go bby). Everyone’s like wtf Remus?! because he’s usually the chill one and it’s just a cluserfuck of misplaced angst and fluffy humour.

this might overlap with some other requests you’ve written, so feel free to ignore or tweak as you see fit! no idea if this makes any sense but hope it’s fun to write if you decide to!

Hi lovely! I've done a couple fics with protective marauders before, so I wanted to try something a little different based on your prompt. I had a different vision in my head than how it turned out, but I hope you like it <3

cw: alcohol, sexual assault, violence

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You’ve been known to be a…somewhat short-fused drunk. It’s not that you’ll get angry with anyone for anything, only that the sort of behavior that you might normally try to ignore, you…don’t. This is usually the behavior of men. 

It’s one of those nights where the club is made up of about forty percent young girls and sixty percent older, eagle-eyed men. You’re glad for your boyfriends, who ward off the other men like a force field around you. You feel lucky to have it and disgusted to need it. 

James’ laughter is loud and bright as you spin him around after he does you. You echo it, pleased at having inspired such a sound. With his large, sturdy build, it’s rare for James to get very drunk, but he’s about where you are now. Which is to say, you’ve been sloppily dancing and giggling with each other for the last hour. 

Remus rolls his eyes fondly when James nearly spins himself out of balance, steadying him with a hand on his back. 

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Sirius shouts. 

James laughs again, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Classy, babe.” 

“Bugger off.” Sirius shoves him playfully into Remus’ chest. 

You dance with them both for a minute longer before leaning in to shout, “Okay if I go get more drinks?” 

Remus eyes you both for a second, but nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.” 

“No, stay.” You set a hand on his chest. “Don’t let Jamie dance alone. I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you head for the bar. It’s crowded, but you’re not about to worm between some middle-aged men to get to the front. You stand up on your toes and wait to catch the bartender’s eye. 

“What’s your name?” Suddenly there’s a warm body pressed up behind yours, hands on your hips. 

Your blood, already warmed by alcohol, turns hot in an instant. You step forward, too quick for the man behind you to follow. Turn to look him in the eyes. 

“Don’t touch me,” you say firmly. 

“Okay.” The man raises his eyebrows at you. He looks nearly old enough to be your father—certainly old enough to be someone’s father—with waxy skin and thinning hair combed over the front of his head. He’s in a suit like he came here from work. “Sorry, relax. I just think you’re beautiful.” 

“I’m here with someone.” Someones, you could say, but you’ve learned it’s easier in some situations to make it sound like you only have one partner, for brevity’s sake. And there’s nothing you desire more than for this interaction to be brief. 

He gives a little laugh. “Don’t take things so seriously, I’m only complimenting you. Do you like to dance?” 

You give him a hard look. “Only with my boyfriend.” 

“You look like you dance.” His eyes skim down your frame, raptorial. “I can tell. You have the body for it.” 

No sooner does his large, meaty hand connect with your ass than you’re grabbing it by the wrist, your free hand balling and aiming for his face. 

His surprised grunt comes in sync with a “Woah!” from behind you. 

You turn to find Remus and James, looking like they’ve just broken through the crowd. James is staring at you with wide eyes. One of the men near you at the bar sets a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from the creep and forcing you to drop his wrist, but Remus is there in an instant. 

“Oi.” He grabs you, removing the man’s hand and caging you in his arms. “She’s fine.” 

“She hit him!” the man accuses. The guy from before is leaning forward with a hand pressed over his face. 

James is incredulous. “Did you see what he did to her?” 

The other man looks between you like he’s realized he’s missing something, and Remus takes a couple of steps back from the crowd with you in his arms. Meanwhile, your attacker seems to be recovering from his shock. He lowers his hand to reveal a discolored mark on his jaw, gaping at you. 

“You fucking cunt!” 

James gives him a hard shove, and more shouting starts up around the bar, various other patrons either cheering the fight on or trying to break it up. Remus grabs James by his shirt, tugging him along as he herds you towards the exit. “Alright, we’re going, we’re going.” 

Your journey out of the building is hurried and difficult to follow in your addled state, but everything seems to catch up to you when the dark club gives way to glaring fluorescent streetlights. You bend over under a wave of nausea. 

“Hey.” James sounds more sober than he had a few minutes ago. He stoops to look at you, your eyes wet. “You okay?” 

Remus says something to him quietly, passing James the car keys. He unwinds his arm from around you and kisses your head. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says gently. “Go wait in the car, okay?” 

“Okay…” Your voice is hardly a whimper. “Where are you going?” 

But Remus is already gone, waving down the bouncer outside of the club. 

You turn to James. “Where is he going?” 

Tears blink out of your eyes as you ask. The corners of James’ mouth turn down sympathetically. 

“Oh, my girl.” He wraps a big arm around your shoulders, kissing your head as he leads you towards the car. “What’s wrong? Does your hand hurt?” 

You shake your head, though it does a little. Your knuckles and the tops of your fingers feel odd and sore, and there’s a throbbing that goes all the way down to your wrist. That’s not what’s bothering you, though. You’re not sure if you can pick what’s bothering you. The predatory stares you’ve endured all night; the sickening realization of the man’s body pressed up against yours; his easy, blithe laughter; your own white-hot anger, there and gone before you could take account of yourself—it’s all too much. 

“I can’t believe I hit him,” you admit tearfully. 

James lets out a little laugh. “I saw, baby.” He unlocks the car, opening the back door. 

“I didn’t mean to.” 

“I—oh, okay.” James doesn’t stop you when you don’t get in, instead sitting on the floor of the car with your feet on the gravel parking lot. He sits beside you. “It’s okay if you did. He deserved it.” 

You put your head in your hands. “I don’t hit people.” 

He makes a soft sound. A big hand lands between your shoulder blades, rubbing softly. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. It’s…I get that you wouldn’t usually, but I think this counts as a special circumstance. Rem, he saw what was happening, but we couldn’t get to you fast enough. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, you know?” 

You don’t reply, and he lets you sit in silence for a while, your weeping gradually stopping. When Remus comes back, it’s with Sirius in tow. 

“What the fuck happened?” Sirius asks tipsily. “I was looking for you!” 

“Did Remus not tell you?” James sounds excited to be the one to share the news. 

“Alright, dove?” Remus asks at a more reasonable volume, crouching in front of you. “Does your hand hurt? Can I see?” 

“No, he’s being bloody tight-lipped.” Sirius ruffles Remus’ hair. “Just said you had to go. Oi, you alright, lovely?” 

“She punched a guy in the face,” James says proudly. 

“She what?” Sirius’ mouth pops open. You shrink some under his gaze. “Baby, you what?” 

“I didn’t mean to!” you insist, though it’s hard to stay miserable when two of your boyfriends look so obviously delighted. 

Sirius shakes his head, awestruck. “What did I miss?” 

James fills him in quickly while Remus prods at your hand, eventually commending you on a rather clean hit after he’s certain you didn’t break anything. Sirius can hardly keep his mouth shut while James talks, nor can James keep from using a series of vulgar names for the man who’d touched you, though he checks on you a couple of times to be sure his storytelling isn’t upsetting you. When he’s done, Sirius’ stare has darkened, his arms crossing as he leans against the side of the car. 

“Do we think he could perhaps use a matching bruise on the other side?” he muses, gaze flicking to the entrance of the club. “Maybe one of you could point him out to me.” 

“You’ll get to see him soon,” says Remus. You look at him questioningly, but he only gives you a small smile. Cryptic.

“Really, she’s already handled it rather well herself.” James slides his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your head. “You should have seen it, I had no idea she could punch like that.” 

“Me neither,” you sigh. 

Just then, the door to the club bangs open. Two bouncers come out in their uniform black tees, hauling between them another man. 

“Alright, alright, leave off!” The creep from earlier struggles in their grasp. All three of your boyfriends tense. As he comes through the doorway, his discolored jaw catches the light. 

Sirius whistles. “Shit. That is bloody gorgeous.” 

You feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips, but try to remain contrite. You catch Remus’ eye. 

“It was rather impressive,” he says, also smiling. 

You chew your lip. “You don’t think it was wrong?” 

“What’s wrong about it?” Sirius asks. “He touched you, you touched him. I’d have done the same if I were there.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “We know, love.” 

“I’m just saying, I could make it symmetrical…” 

“No,” Remus says sternly. He helps you up, ushering you into the backseat. “It’s time to go home.” 

James buckles in beside you while Remus gets into the driver’s seat. Sirius lingers outside the car. 

“He’s not gotten far yet, are we sure…” 

“Aw, baby, does your hand hurt?” James asks loudly. 

Sirius turns, crawling in to get a look. “Shit, did you bruise something? How’d you make a fist? Show me.” 

James reaches across him to shut the door, and Remus drives away.

[senascoop]

ꣀ꣒ WHEN YOU’RE ALL THAT THEY WANT IN THIS LIFE . . 엔하이펜 ☁︎

pairing, enhypen × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s), comfort core . . . word count, 200-300 each . . . [LIBRARY]

. , LEE HEESEUNG ☁︎ 이희승 !

“It’s okay, I can do this.” You mutter, determination laced in your voice as you struggle to pull your top over your head. The door is shut, the room quiet except for your frustrated sighs. Your fractured hand, wrapped tightly in a cast, throbs slightly, but the real pain isn’t physical. It’s the creeping frustration, the helplessness, the way twenty minutes have passed and you’re still stuck, half-dressed, fingers trembling. It’s just a bra. A simple t-shirt. But why does it feel impossible? Your throat tightens. Useless. The word sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and cruel.

“Baby, I’m coming in.” Heeseung’s voice is gentle, the door creaking open before you can protest. His gaze lands on your bare back, and though he can’t see your face, he knows—you’re frowning, lips pursed, probably on the verge of tears. “It’s just me, hmm?” His voice is soft as he steps forward, hands finding your shoulders. He carefully turns you to face him, and even as warmth creeps up his neck, he forces himself to focus—on you, not the vulnerability of your exposed skin. Heeseung swallows, picking up your bra with careful fingers. But his heart clenches when he finally sees your teary eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks, voice laced with concern.

You look down, shame curling in your stomach. “I feel so useless… I can’t even dress myself properly. My hand keeps getting in the way.” His brows knit together as he helps you clasp the bra, then effortlessly pulls the t-shirt over your head. His touch is careful, deliberate—like he’s afraid you might break further. When he’s done, Heeseung cups your cheeks, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Stop thinking that,” he murmurs. “This is temporary, hmm? But what’s permanent is my love for you.” His gaze holds yours, steady and full of warmth—reminding you that even when you feel weak, he sees you as nothing less than strong.

. , PARK JONGSEONG ☁︎ 박��성 !

You carefully mixed the ingredients, your hands coated in the strong, pungent scent of kimchi as you worked beside your future mother-in-law. You had always wanted to learn how to make it, especially for Jay. You smiled to yourself, imagining how he’d react to your homemade kimchi one day, even if you still weren’t sure when that "someday" would be. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it.” You muttered to yourself as you worked, following her instructions. From the doorway, you could hear Jay laughing lightly, chatting with his mom about something—probably teasing each other, the way they always did.

It made your heart warm to see them getting along so easily, and you couldn’t help but think about how one day, this might be your family too. Jay caught your eye and smiled, his eyes softening as he watched you. You knew the look—the one that said he could picture a future with you, one where you were part of his world, just as you were becoming part of his family. “I’m so glad you’re learning to make this,” Jay said, his voice low, as he came closer. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warmth a reminder of how much he loved you. “You know,” he continued, his tone teasing, “I think my mom’s kimchi is the best. But your version might be a close second.” You laughed softly. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

. , SIM JAEYUN ☁︎ 심재윤 !

You sighed, staring at the crumpled bills in your wallet. The numbers weren’t adding up—again. How were pads this expensive? Weren’t they a necessity? You let out a frustrated groan, popping another piece of chocolate into your mouth. Maybe that was part of the problem too. You could survive without snacks, but during that time of the month? Impossible. You rested your head on the kitchen counter, already dreading the rest of the month.

“My money is your money. Stop calculating.” Jake’s voice startled you. You turned to see him standing at the bedroom door, arms crossed, eyes still half-lidded from sleep. His hair was messy, his shirt slightly wrinkled, but his smirk was sharp, full of amusement. “Yeah, but—” Before you could finish, he was behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. His chin rested on your shoulder as he swayed you slightly, the warmth of his body making it hard to focus on why this still didn’t feel right.

“But what?” he murmured. “You do know I plan on marrying you, right?” Your breath hitched. “Jake—” “Nope. No arguments.” He spun you around effortlessly, hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brushed over your skin, his grin softening into something more sincere. “That means my money is already yours, dummy.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he only tapped your lips. “Nope. Not hearing it.” You huffed. “You’re impossible.” “And you love me for it.” He kissed your forehead before stepping back. “Now, should we go get you more chocolate too?” Damn him and his boyfriend privileges.

. , PARK SUNGHOON ☁︎ 박성훈 !

“Where is he…” you mumble, scanning the crowd anxiously. Sunghoon isn’t good with places like this—too many people, too much noise. You had only left for a few minutes to grab snacks, but now, the once calm area had become packed with people swarming to see a panda. Then you spot him. He’s stiff, standing awkwardly near a signpost, his hands clenched into nervous fists. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his shoulders rising slightly with tension. His gaze flickers around like he’s calculating an escape route, but his eyes widen the moment they land on you. You don’t waste a second, weaving through the bodies until you reach him.

The second your hand finds his, he flinches—but when he realizes it’s you, his grip tightens. Relief washes over his face as you quickly guide him out of the crowd. The moment you’re in the clear, you pull him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, you got stuck because of me.” Sunghoon shakes his head, still catching his breath. “It’s not your fault. I mean… I was the one who got hungry.” He mutters, trying to act tough, but the pink dusting his cheeks gives him away. Then, in a quieter voice, he mumbles, “But I’m glad it was you who found me. Otherwise, I’d look like a lost kid.” You grin, poking his flushed cheek. “You kinda already did.” “Shut up.” He groans, but the way he squeezes your hand says otherwise.

. , KIM SUNOO ☁︎ 김수누 !

You leaned your head against Sunoo’s shoulder, wincing slightly as the throbbing in your foot made itself known. You never imagined that something so small could cause this much trouble. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it made it impossible to walk without cringing. Despite your attempts to be independent, Sunoo had insisted on helping, his voice filled with concern. “I told you to be careful.” His tone was teasing but laced with care. You sighed, not wanting to feel helpless. “I was careful! It just… happened.” He chuckled, a soft, comforting sound, as he gently adjusted his hold around you. Even though you were leaning heavily against him, you couldn’t help but notice how strong he was—certainly stronger than you’d expected.

Sunoo was never the bulky type; he wasn’t exactly a gym freak, and you loved him just the way he was. Still, the way he effortlessly lifted you into his arms made you pause. “Are you sure you’re not secretly training for a superhero role?” You teased, letting your voice be light despite the discomfort. “Maybe.” He smirked down at you, carrying you up the stairs with ease. “But my real superpower is making sure you’re always taken care of.” You laughed softly, your heart fluttering at his words. “Well, you’re doing a great job.” He winked, eyes sparkling with affection. “I know.” As he laid you down gently on the bed, his touch lingering on your side, you couldn’t help but feel thankful—not just for his strength, but for the way he always knew how to make you feel safe, even when life threw you off balance.

. , YANG JUNGWON ☁︎ 양정원 !

You lay in bed, limbs heavy, the fever wrapping around you like an unbearable weight. Every inch of your body ached, exhaustion pulling at your consciousness. You didn’t remember when exactly your eyes had closed, only that the loneliness of being sick made the world feel quieter, emptier. When you woke up, it wasn’t silence that greeted you—it was a familiar voice, soft yet laced with worry. “You scared me when you didn’t pick up your phone.” Your vision blurred slightly as you tried to focus.

Jungwon stood beside your bed, a warm cloth in his hand, dabbing your forehead. In his other hand was a bowl of soup, the steam curling in the air. You blinked, groggy, then turned to your phone on the nightstand. Ten missed calls. Your throat felt dry. “How’d you know?” Jungwon sighed, dipping the spoon into the soup before carefully bringing it to your lips. “Because you always pick up. And when you don’t, it means something’s wrong.” The first sip was surprisingly sweet, warming your throat, easing the discomfort in your chest.

You hummed in appreciation, and a small, satisfied smile tugged at Jungwon’s lips. “This is… really good,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “Of course it is. I made it,” he said, feigning smugness before his expression softened. His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your warm skin. “Good thing, though… your temperature feels normal now.” His touch, gentle and reassuring, made something inside you melt. “Jungwon…” “Shh.” He shook his head. “No need to thank me. Taking care of you is kinda my full-time job.” You let out a tired chuckle. “Oh? Do you get paid for this?” He grinned. “Yeah. Your love is enough.”

. , NISHIMURA RIKI ☁︎ 리키 !

“Don’t stop,” Riki mumbles, voice laced with exhaustion as your fingers glide through his soft hair. His head rests on your chest, his body melting into yours as he finally lets himself be taken care of—for once. You feel the tension leave his shoulders with every stroke, his breathing slowing, steadying. “It feels like my stress is fading away…” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper. You let out a soft chuckle, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. “Then just stay like this,” you say, shifting slightly before tossing a leg over his, pulling him impossibly closer. He lets out a content sigh, nuzzling deeper into you, the warmth between you two making the rest of the world disappear. “Hmmpf…” he hums, voice drowsy, before mumbling, “I can’t wait to live with you forever.”

His words come out so naturally, like a thought slipping past his lips before he can even second-guess it. Your heart stutters. “Wouldn’t you get annoyed?” you tease, though there’s a genuine question hidden underneath. “Like those couples who grow tired of each other?” Riki immediately lifts his head, eyes blinking up at you in pure offense before peppering your face with soft, lazy kisses—your cheeks, your nose, your lips. “Never,” he mumbles against your skin, before sighing and resting his head back against your chest, fingers curling into your shirt. You smile as he wraps his arms around you, holding you like you’re his whole world. Because, in truth, you are.

© senascoop | tumblr

[webism]

"and whenever you smile at me, i promise to smile back."

it was a stupid vow, but one you made to satoru at the altar regardless. he had tears in his blue eyes and his lips were quivering and in the moment you really meant it, but god can he be an asshole.

like when he's denying you an orgasm. and he has you on your back, legs parted and hips rocking up against his tongue as he makes out with your pussy like he's on death row. he knows you on a molecular level, every inching indicator of your coming orgasm, and as soon as you give yourself away he's pulling back and wiping his lips while you groan because this is the third time this week.

and when he looks down at you with those puppy dog eyes and flashes you the biggest grin he can manage, you want to flip him off and make him sleep on the couch. you nearly do.

"you made a vow to me, baby," he tsks. "cmon, let me see that pretty smile of yours."

you turn your lips up, just enough to hold true to your vow. "id smile more if you let me cum."

"wrong," satoru shrugs, "you look like this—" he parts his lips and rolls his eyes back dramatically "—when you cum."

"fuck you," you look away, but his hand is quick to shoot out and turn your gaze back onto him. he's pulling his hard cock from his sweats and tapping the tip against your clit a few times before sighing.

"i'm going to, bossy."

and he pushes into you with a sick pace that has you feeling each hard inch of him. you'll never get used to it, to the way he stretches you out and sends you dizzy with just his cock.

"you look dick drunk already," he grins, you shoot him a sarcastic smile in turn.

you grab his bulging bicep with your left hand, the ring on your finger cool against his warm skin. it makes his hips stutter, having you claimed by him in more than one way: with the heavy rock he put on your finger and with his aching cock deep inside of you.

you know what he's going to do, try and edge you again and again until you go stupid on his cock and finally beg. but the way he reacts to just your wedding ring alone gives you a sick idea. you're still hot from him eating you out—it won't take much to push you over the edge.

"my toru," you hum, and smile a little as you feel his pace increase. "how'd i end up with such a pretty husband?"

he shakes his head, white locks falling into his eyes. "stop, i know what you're—"

"marrying you was the best decision of my life, baby," you continue, and bring your ringed hand up to hold the side of his face. his hips buck into you a little faster, a little wilder. "but i want you to fuck me like you did on our wedding night. till i was nauseous with how deep you were inside me. really made me yours, huh baby?"

that's all it takes. he's cutting off your intake of breath with a kiss and sustaining you on his essence alone. his cock splits you open at depths you think shouldn't be possible, and with each mean thrust of his hips into yours the headboard hits the wall in rhythmic mirror of your lusts.

and satoru chides himself: he thought denying you would be fun, a cheeky way to rile you up and get you begging for just the tip if its all he'd gift you with. but he's your husband, your other half: you aren't whole without him and he's empty when not filling you. he fucks you hard and quick and mean but with so much love you'd swear it was your wedding night all over.

and when you finally think you're going to cum, satoru encourages you with quick circles over your clit and the sweetest of praise from his lips. he loves you, he loves everything about you, there's no stronger aphrodisiac than your pleasure.

you cum hard around his cock and milk an orgasm out of him in turn. he fills you, claims you as his all over, and moans symphonies as he does so. your chest heaves, breath lost on you, and when he smiles down at you you're barely seeing straight enough to smile back.

he leans down to kiss you, a hungry kiss. "gonna fuck you so dumb and see if you still remember making that vow, okay baby?"

[brownblob]

"I Love You"

When the words "I love you" spill from the prefect's lips, how do the Housewardens react?

Part 1

TW: Kissing in Malleus' part, forehead kisses, mentions of insecurities (Fluff)

Part 2 (Separate): Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

ᥫ᭡. Kalim Al-Asim ᥫ᭡.

Like the scorching sun in the Scalding Sands, Kalim's feelings for you burned deep within his heart. Why is it that he wants to spend time with you, but the moment he does, his heart seems to stop? Why is it that the word 'friend' bugs him when associated with you? Why is it that he wants to be selfish, to hog you for himself? His mind become's mush whenever you're near and his throat feels dry, he just feels so shy.

Kalim is everything but shy.

Expensive gifts, prized heirlooms, rare gemstones, and any luxury you could name- he'll give it all to you, so why do you reject? Anyone else would accept his gifts with open arms, encouraging him to give more. Wait, you aren't anyone, you're you. You don't take, you give. Despite the little you have in this new world, you who harbors no magic, gives him joy. You spend time with him, you care for him, and you don't take from him- he really wishes you would.

Take his riches and look back at him just one more time, he swears he'll hand you all the gold he can acquire. So please, please just look at him more.

You're caring, so much so that he could just melt in your arms. How lucky he feels when you look at him, but why? Jamil looks at him too, he doesn't feel as if mice are tickling him then. No, when you're around, all he can see is you. You who shines brighter than any gemstone his wealth could buy. You are not a prize to be won, he knows, but he wishes that the glitters of gold could woo you, make him your number one.

He feels so lost and it hurts, nights spent sobbing away.

Kalim, the name alone makes you smile. Someone who's kind despite all that he's faced, all the horrible people he's met- he still believes in the good of people. Some call it naivety, you call it 'a heart of gold'. Yes, he's sheltered, there's some things he's slow at, and he has flaws. Despite said flaws, he want to become better and you see him try every single day. You've seen how he makes everyone comfortable, always including anyone and everyone, how he's akin to a drop of sunshine. It's a rarity and you appreciate it greatly. Twisted Wonderland, it's new to you and things are difficult but when Kalim's there, things don't feel that difficult.

He doesn't look down upon you, he doesn't think you're weak despite having no magic, and he certainly never belittles you- others have and that hurt.

He's always up for some fun, but it always feels better when he can share the fun with you. Thus, flying carpet rides have become your nightly routine. There's a soft knock on your window every other night, a hand extended your way; calling you to live, be happy. You can't help but blush when the carpet takes off, his body huddles closer to yours and the moon seems tease you with how bright she is.

It's another night and he's come to pick you up to go see the Scarabia moon. You're sitting next to each other, the desert seemingly glowing underneath. The stars twinkle and you swear the breeze is cool on purpose, just so the both of you have no choice but to lean into each other. Hands intertwine, both of you looking the other way, cheeks red like cherries.

"I..I love you."

You fumble out on mistake, your breath hitching the moment you realize. His head whips towards you, garnet eyes appraising your blushing visage. A soft smile appears on his lips, his sun-kissed skin peachy with a blush of his own.

"I love you too."

He says eagerly, hands wrapping around you as he pulls you in. The moon looks bigger, the stars winking at you, and the scent of sandalwood engulfs you. A soft kiss is planted on your forehead, one that lingers. Like a pair of sea otters, you both hold the other's hand.

ᥫ᭡. Vil Schoenheit ᥫ᭡.

Center of attention, even the room's filled to the brim with pretty faces. Eyes the color of violets and a smile that's so striking, it could cut right through you. Just how a bright star commands everyone's admiration, Vil himself does exactly that. With beauty that's akin to a velvety rose, thorns sharp and drawing blood of the one who dares touch. He's not sure why he's so fond of you, really, it baffles him. Your constant babbling should bother him- your posture isn't perfect, you don't regularly use the products he recommends to you, and your diet could use improving.

He only recently realized the perfection of imperfection. That's what you are, like an abstract piece of art that can draw even the most elegant man's heart. Truly, you can take his breath and keep it, which is a difficult feat to accomplish. Yet, you seem to have done just that.

He doesn't like how drawn he is to you, the you who could improve so much. Nevertheless, he can't deny how his heart flutters when you ramble on and on, the words you spew seem like pearls to him. Undeniably, you've got his heart, and it bothers him.

Vil seems unreachable to you, as if he's a god and you're a follower. You can see him, but you can't touch. Everything about him is captivating- the way he moves, how he walks, how he talks, everything. You feel like a toad in front of him sometimes. Still, the reason your heart continues to flutter is not his beauty but how soft he can be. His words may be harsh, telling you to fix your posture or add a certain product to your skincare, but he means well. It used to irk you, how he pointed out your flaws, but he never touched an insecurity- it was never something you couldn't fix. Many times, he only tells you how to improve and that's in his nature. It started with you muttering curses under your breath, now all you do is give him a dopey smile as he flicks your forehead.

It's hard to love Vil, and you're sure that it's even harder to be loved by him. He's untouchable and you're not sure if he'll even spare you a glance. But, the nights you spend at his dorm, him tending to your skin as you blabber about your day. Or the few rarities when he opens up, speaking of his insecurities. It shows how human he is; how he too, can feel.

It's another night at his dorm, your skin's worsened as of late and Vil's ordered you to give him a visit. You sit at his vanity, the light's so bright that it could blind you, but what truly blinds you is Vil himself in all his glory. His dampened hair, the ends the color of wisteria, and the scent of patchouli just makes you want to melt right then and there. He strides over with a new product in his hand, carefully beginning to massage your face with it.

"I love you."

The words come out instantly, his hands stopping in motion as his violet eyes widen. A sheepish blush coats your face as you realize what you said. Your breath hitches, the fear of rejection drilling into your mind, and your heart drumming against your chest.

"That's quite bold of you, sweet potato.."

He lets out a small chuckle, eyes holding content. He leans closer before flicking you on the forehead gently.

"I love you too."

ᥫ᭡. Idia Shroud ᥫ᭡.

The buzz of video games, the stench on junk food, and an interest for oddities. Idia Shroud was a wallflower, yet you'd managed to befriend him, something he's truly grateful for- your presence. He liked you. You understood him, you never belittled him for what he enjoyed, in fact, you encouraged him to continue. No matter how good or bad you were at a game, you'd play alongside him. It didn't matter whether you enjoyed his rambles, you'd listen no matter what, before babbling on and on about something of your own interest. Nights like this, filled with games, reading manga, watching anime, and spending time with you- he never wanted these to end.

You were brave, so unlike him. You had no magic, still you managed to show courage, to fight against overblots. How he wished he was you, no, how he wished he was yours. The realization hit him like a truck in an isekai, quickly and out of nowhere. When he figured he liked you, he didn't let you anywhere near him for a week- opting to hide in his room and not leave. It took some convincing from Ortho and also the fact that you may dislike him if he ignored you, before he opened his doors for you once again. Nevertheless, he was skittish, averting his gaze from your face, and sitting on the other end of the couch when you visited. That worried you, you were sure you'd messed up big time and he became uneasy around you because of it. Thankfully everything became normal after two weeks, he was sure he wouldn't be able to recover.

The truth was, you liked him too. It was weird and something unforeseen, you both started out as friends- you'd visit his dorm, play games all night, munch on junk together, and then laugh at all the cringe characters in the current anime you both were binging on. Right now, you were experiencing that cheesy crush from a shoujo manga, and the feeling was messing with your brain.

The gloomy boy you pined for was everything but dreamy, somehow, that's what made him so charming to you. Hair an electric blue that flared up like flames, pale skin akin to porcelain, and eyes yellow like daffodils. His physicality was mesmerizing but there was so much more to his character too. He was passionate about what he enjoyed, jabbering on for hours about his interest, something that you didn't mind one bit. He was competitive, striking a triumphant grin whenever he'd win a game against you. He's prideful too, his creations making him an utter genius. At the same time, he held such emotion, a man who would never judge for he himself experienced the badmouthing of others.

There's just something about Idia, something that makes your cheeks flare up. You're not sure if he notices how his presence can make you skittish, how you become timid when he's near, and how divine he seems to you. He never notice how he makes you feel, how ironic that you become just like him when he's near.

Just like the usual, you're cooped up in his dorm alongside him. You've been binging an anime for the past few hours and the way he's so focused on the characters while you're so focused on him, it bothers you. He feels so close yet so far and the fact that you're having such thoughts about the whole situation, makes you feel stupid.

"I love you.."

You immediately pause at your own words, Idia pauses the show too. There's a long silence in the room and before you know it, Idia's moved far away from you. His hair's become an electric pink and his eyes are wide.

"W-w-w-what..!?"

He exclaims the words as if he's animated, the feeling of fluster surging throughout him. Were you playing a joke on him? This wasn't right, it couldn't be. His gaze averts the other way every time you look at him and he won't admit it, but he really hopes you're not joking.

"I love you, Idia."

You say again, softer this time and you yourself look the other way, peachy blush coating your face. You're cursing yourself for speaking up, palms sweaty and clammy. You feel dizzy and your breathing is erratic , the feeling's mutual. The room's silent again, no one says anything and the only sound either of you can hear is the buzz of the computer.

"I...I...I dove, no, love you too.."

He mutters out, fumbling his words while he does. You both look at each other, shy gaze. Your lips form a small smile, making Idia's hair flare an even brighter pink. His face is rosy and he'd rather not look at you but you're just so pretty that he can't help but look.

You're not sure how it things fell in place but he accepted your confession, and now you've somehow managed to cuddle up to him. He's stiff but that's fine, the mere fact that he's holding your hand tightly is enough to reassure you. That, and how smug he looks.

ᥫ᭡. Malleus Draconia ᥫ᭡.

Child of man, you truly are peculiar. Malleus Draconia, the name alone makes millions, if not billions, tremble to the bone. He holds such unrivaled power that the thought alone is fearsome- he is fearsome.

A monster, that's what many would call him, but you don't. No one dares approach him as carelessly as you do, a bumbling smile on your lips as you walk next to him without a care in the world. Do you truly not know what he's capable of? 'Tsunotaro', that's what you've named him- quite bold of you, not that he minds. Please continue to enlighten him about human practices, he's interested in every thing you have to say.

Loneliness is a disease that he's suffered from since his childhood. It's second nature to be alone with his own presence, silence a bandage that covers but doesn't heal his wounds. Yet, the way you come to him, invite him to all your little events, how you choose him. How can he be lonely when he has you?

You, who is so bright like a star coated in gold- is he even allowed to go near you? It feels as if you'll break in his hands, yet you seem so brave, putting yourself in danger with a smile. You've got his heart in your hands and it hurts that you don't realize.

'Friend' was a word he grew to love, knowing the special bond you shared. Nevertheless, it's the same word that has caused Diasomnia to have horrible whether for the past week- you're a friend to many but a lover to none. Be his, child of man, he's the only one worthy enough to call you his.

Since the day of his realization, Malleus follows you as a second shadow would. Now, no one with ill intentions would dare approach what he's already considered his. Truly, how precious you are. Giving him small shiny pebbles you find, trying to tuck daisies into his hair but being unable to reach his head, and the times you try to tease him as a joke, making the silliest of faces. Please tell him that he's the only one who has the honor of seeing you in such various forms. Dragons are hoarders, you know? And he wants nothing but to hoard you all for himself.

Spending time with your Tsunotaro is always fulfilling. His knowledge on gargoyles, the depth in which he speaks of them and how little he knows of human interactions. It all makes your heart flutter, eliciting a smile on your lips. It's not difficult to have feelings for someone such as him, it comes naturally. He seems so intimidating, dangerous even and it's not that he's not- he is, but there's so much more to him. He's curious, always listening to what you have to say. He's sweet, always handing you gifts whether small or unimaginably grand. And the manner in which he speaks, the elegance he holds, he's just as charming as any prince in a book- if not more.

When you began actually having feelings for him, all his words seemed to make your mind all fuzzy. Could he really not tell how his vocabulary affected you? 'My dear', 'my love', and all other forms of endearments had become a usual, so much so, that it felt right.

You went on walks with him, spotting gargoyles and chatting about them. Sometimes you drag him to picnics with and he happily follows, letting you braid his ebony hair. Still, not everything you shared seemed friend-like, and if it was, you didn't want it to be. The way his emerald eyes gazed over you, how his touch lingered so gently, and how his lips brushed agains your ear when he said he'll keep you safe. It couldn't mean nothing, you didn't want it to.

A walk in a meadow at nighttime, how strange, but also the daily for you. You walk alongside Malleus, skittish and timid- this isn't how you usually act. The moon's peeking out from under the clouds and casting a silver sheen on all that it lands on. Fireflies scurry around slowly, the cool night air making you feel at ease- but it's not enough.

Your face is flushed and you won't meet his gaze, he's not sure what he did wrong. His frame towers behind you as you seem to walk quicker, increasing your pace. Hurt, that's what he feels; did you start seeing him as a monster too?

You can't leave, please- he'll beg if he has to, give you all of what he has and can create. Promise you'll stay, and don't ever leave.

Then you pause, turning around as you take deliberate steps towards him. You look up, your smaller frame covered by his daunting shadow.

"I love you, Tsunotaro."

You say with a certain melancholy in your voice, as if you know he'll reject you and your love. How could he ever think of rejecting? He'd rather pierce his own heart and bleed to death than ever think of rejecting any of your words.

His viridescent eyes widen, the glow of them seeming intense. His hands holds you in place gently, he seems to be staring at you, looking you as if you're the most fragile piece of glass. The words don't spill out of his lips and you look more desolate by the second- he seemingly can't speak, he's not sure if this is but a dream.

"I love you too, child of man. So much that you wouldn't believe it."

His hands wrap you in a desperate embrace, almost as desperate as the words he'd just managed to choke out. It was as if you would wither away if he let go, as if he was making sure you were not a dream.

Your own eyes widen, lips parting shock at his words. The night seems magical and his embrace is sincere. He pries away from you only to look at you more, all your expressions- please continue to show such faces to only him. Only he should see you like this, with your face flushed red and eyes widened as you stare at him as though he's the only man in the world. His hands seem shaky, unlike who he usually is.

No, he seems so vulnerable and you seem to be his vulnerability.

Everything seems alright when you're there, he doesn't feel loneliness; far from it, actually. He doesn't feel like a monster when you love him, when your own arms loosely wrap around his neck as you pull him in for a soft kiss- no, monster's don't get such luxuries.

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Note 2: Please reblog, even if you don't press like on the post. Reblogs help a ton more!

Note 3: I didn't expect the last part to get so much attention, thank you so much everyone. I greatly appreciate everyone's interactions with my posts! As of now, I'll be working on requests and maybe some other ideas! (I really hope this part 2 is good too)

[sqgeism]

so i recently read a post about how aglaea represents divinity through humanity's flesh and blood and anaxa represents humanity through the mask of a porcelain doll.

Soooo this has got me very curious, how would anaxa react to his partner (reader) literally being the human equivalent of a porcelain doll? glassy eyes, long lashes, pasty pale/white skin. maybe they even visibly crack in response to stressors/trauma!! ive totally developed this into my own oc and would love to read your thoughts! ty as always

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

love mail — hii :3 i'm alive again! i had (married) femme reader in mind but honestly could pass as (still married) gn reader ＼(^o^)／ i suuper love this concept nd i hope it lives up to your expectations, anonnie :D kiss muwa ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ also anaxa's is rly long bc i intended for it to be standalone but added the others in the end ;p they're all (except anaxa) rlly short sorry LMAOAOA characters in order : anaxa, mydei, phainon

from the day anaxa met you, to the day of your wedding, and every moment after — he's learned to be careful. he's always described himself as 'experimental', ready to do it all for the sake of knowledge and further understanding. but when he met you, he couldn't be that. he was fascinated with you in seconds, your porcelain skin was delicate, the kind that shatters because of hands like his. you were his opposite, and ever since he fell in love with you, his treasure.

anaxa had built some sort of.. habit with you. when his sister was alive, she showed him different hairstyles that she wanted. anaxa, the loving boy he was, tried his very best to learn. unfortunately, as you've come to know, he never got to really do them. his own way of healing from that grief was through you, when you first allowed him to brush your hair for you — he found himself tying it into a beautiful braid. he won't forget the glimmer in your glassy eyes, thanking him so softly that he was sure even his cold, dead heart was touched. you had that affect on him, always have.

but that joy was short lived, as when you smiled- your face cracked. his face drops and so does he, falling to his knees right infront of you as his hands cup your cheek. "what happened? does it hurt? how can i help?" there's a noticeable shift in that indifferent demeanor that anaxa's always seen with.

and that makes you smile more, but the emotion is so strong that it causes you to shatter more. anaxa won't deny that he feels himself a little flustered at such a beautiful display that is your smile, but the cracking isn't stopping.

he eventually learns that you two are alike for different reasons. anaxa's nonchalance to most situations is caused by the fact he's lost all ability to care, he's lost everything that's ever mattered to him — why care about losing anything more? it'll make him just hurt all over again. he never wants to remember what it's like to drown in emotion ever again.

but your still expressions are the way they are because you feel too much. an overbundance of joy makes you smile, pressuring your porcelain complextion and causing it to crack. same with stress, sadness, any form of emotion makes you feel like you're breaking. but you wish to experience every single one deeply, you want to turn into nothing but pieces just to know what it's like to completely, and utterly, feel.

but around each other, there is a balance. while you were used to a disproportion of emotion, anaxa kept you calm in every situation, but still allowed you to feel. you wouldn't crack, no, but you still felt your heart race every time anaxa kissed your fingers or ran his hand through your hair. and so, you can come to the quick conclusion that you allowed him to experience what you have had too much of. you bring him comfort, unease, and affection all at once and he's willing to indulge in it. he doesn't want to completely experience it all, but you let him worry just enough to make something else but a thin line and an empty gaze in his expression.

he adores you, really. he'd punish the stars for ever trying to rival the beauty that is sparkle in your eyes.

mydei's in a similar position, but if you allow him- he'd love to bring you around to meet the children. if you're at all insecure about the way you exist as a person, he's sure that they can help. they're too young to understand or villainize you in any way, they're just.. in awe of you. the same manner that he was. a big, life sized doll? with pretty clothes and brushable hair? they're all over you in a moments notice. and mydei adores every second.

he has his head on your lap while they brush through your hair, humming a lullaby while you sit there, unmoving but enjoying yourself in silence. the breeze is cool, the grass is green and the flowers that surround you, mydei, and the little ones make the scene feel straight out of a painting.

a warrior and his muse, his weakness, his heart. everything that you are mends perfectly into an emptiness inside of him, and you fix the scars that have lingered for him to heal.

phainon's in a similar boat, except he's like the children. he ADOOOORES you. buys you outfits every week, learned to do your hair, sits by your vanity mirror with eyes of pure and utter admiration as you do makeup.. he's soo enamored by you, it's insane. though he does tend to worry that when he makes you laugh (which is a lot, he appreciates it), you start to crack. they do eventually heal, but he's noticed you've become insecure about it. growing a habit of wearing veils or large hats to hide that beautiful face he adores.

he likes to call your cracks 'smile lines', since they tend to happen after you laugh or smile. it's a human thing, but he's trying to describe the similarities to you. he'll tell you that when humans smile all throughout their life, they get smile lines.. and while some are insecure about them, phainon thinks they should be proud. that the aeon's have given them the gift of so many happy, special moments, that they make sure all of the world gets to see it. that they know they've lived a good, happy life. and you shouldn't be ashamed of yours either.

nothing could shatter how perfectly imperfect you are to him. to phainon, you embody his every need and want.

[ln444]

★ how does f1 drivers react when you call them pretty. . .

norris, piastri, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, russell, verstappen

cw: fluff, slight suggestive (verstappen), f!reader.

now playing: pretty boy by the neighborhood

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✹ lando norris

lando would be the type to act annoyed but absolutely loves it. he just won't admit it but you know it.

"hey, pretty boy", you whisper against his lips, leaving a sweet peck on it just to be met with a pouty and flustered lando. "i told you to stop calling me that!" he whines, but deep down he hopes that you'll never stop. you look at him with a playful smile, softly caressing his hair. "okay, i'll stop if it makes you uncomfortable", you wait impatiently for his reaction and as you excepted, lando start to panic. "i mean... you can but you know... just not in front of other people", he laughs nervously, hoping that his excuse is good and his cheeks start heating up. you can't help but laugh softly, pulling him close by the neck and lando pouts again, "stop making fun of me!", your smile softens and you plant another kiss on his lips, "sorry, you're just too cute, my pretty boy". lando's cheeks are now completely red and he tries to hide it by pulling you in a long and warm kiss, feeling the butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

✹ oscar piastri

oh my god, please don't do this to him. as soon as he hears the word, his brain starts malfunctioning.

"you did so good!", oscar pulls you for a warm hug, holding you as tight as he can. he loves seeing you after races and hearing how proud you are of him no matter what he do. you pull out, staring at him like his eyes holds stars and oscar can't help but feel overwhelmed by all the adoration he sees in your eyes. you put your hand on his cheek, stroking it softly. "i'm so proud of you, my pretty boy" and even though you mean it, a hint of teasing can be heard and oscar groans, pulling you in a new hug to hide his face in your neck "if you call me that again, i think i'm gonna die" he mumbles against your skin. you laughs, one of your hands slides in his messy curls, your fingers playing with it. you will never get over how cute your boyfriend is when you call him pretty.

✹ charles leclerc

he absolutely loves it and won't deny it, even if he gets a bit shy when you call him pretty. he can't control it, his heart gets warm and the butterflies in his stomach goes crazy.

you were getting ready for a cute date and charles was wearing a new shirt, with flowers on it. as soon as he's ready, you lock your arms around his neck and you look at him with a big smile on your face. after planting a sweet peck on his lips, one of your hands cup his cheek. "you're so pretty, baby", your voice is full of adoration and honesty and charles' smiles gets wider. "thank you, chérie", he says softly and he immediately pulls you for a gentle kiss, hoping that you didn't notice the way his cheeks has redden, but you didn't miss it.

✹ carlos sainz

he loves it, like really loves it. he finds it funny tbh. and he won't hesitate to give the word back to you.

"woah, what a pretty boy", you look at him showing you his brand new haircut. he laughs, posing in front of you a little more before joining you on the sofa, pulling you on his lap and placing a kiss on your nose. "got pretty for my pretty girl, we are such a pretty couple", you both giggles before sharing a kiss, laughing and smiling against each other's lips. but, even if he doesn't want to admit it, carlos can feel his heart beating a bit faster and a sweet feeling in his stomach when he hears you call him pretty.

✹ lewis hamilton

he would get so shy, make it seems like he doesn't like it and it annoys him but he can't hide it for long, he always ends up with a big smile on his face and a heart beating faster than it should.

"ahhh, stop it y/n", he whines as you continue to leave kisses all over his face, sitting on his lap. "but, you're so pretty!", you say, cupping his cheeks to look at him in the eyes. he groans, acting annoyed by pulling you out of his lap and you try your best to fight the smile creeping on your lips. you both know that he's just flustered and wants to hide his red cheeks. "come on, baby, let me finish my kisses", he doesn't fight you when you climb back on his lap but he crosses his arms, trying to hold onto his character and you laugh softly, going back to leaving small pecks all over his face. it doesn't take long before he finally smiles, his hands finding your waist to pull you close and kiss you back. he just can't resist you.

✹ george russell

he always tries to ignore the way it makes him feel and act unbothered but he can't fight the way his body warm and a smile instinctively forms on his lips. he just loves getting praised by you.

"baby, can you pass me the knife, please?" you ask, preparing the vegetables and george, who has been helping and watching you cook for an hour now, hand you the knife as fast as he can. you turn to face him, placing your free hand on his neck to pull him close, "thank you, pretty boy", you says softly and he places a kiss on your lips, smiling softly "you're welcome" he says, trying to sound as neutral as he can and you pout, acting disappointed, "what? you don't like when i call you that?", you know that he do. you just want to hear it. he looks at you, a playful smile forms on his lips. "i know what you're doing", he chuckles and pulls you for another kiss. you end up both laughing, george's heart feeling full.

✹ max verstappen

he gets all nervous and doesn't know how to act anymore. like, if you want to make a mess of this man, just call him pretty.

max have been acting flirty all day, enjoying teasing you and seeing you all flustered in front of other people. you tried your best to keep your cool all day, playfully punching him from time to time or just laughing it off. but when you two end up alone at the end of the day, you're finally able to get your revenge. you start making out, getting more and more touchy and needy. "take off your shirt, pretty boy", you whisper in his ear, and max almost startle. a playful smile forms on your lips and you don't even have to look at him to know that his cheeks are now red. after a good minute of no reaction from him, you finally meet his eyes, giving him a confused look. "is everything okay?", you try to hide your teasing tone but max doesn't miss it, a playful grin finally forming on his lips and he chuckles; "naughty girl".

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[deeplyshalllow]

An in depth study of Fiyero and Elphaba's first meeting in the Wicked movie

So I've wanted to do an analysis of this scene from the moment I saw it. It's such a great addition to canon and gives such a fascinating insight into both of their personalities and the facades they put on to others. It also gives hints of the fact that both of them are pretty good at breaking down each other's walls.

From the top:

“Woah, Woah there, woah.”

“I did not see her.”

“Yeah, neither did I.”

“You might want to, um”

“Ok.”

“You know,”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you there, you must have...”

The first impression we get of Fiyero is that he’s kind. Obviously careless enough to hit a girl in the dark, but he immediately slows down and, even before Feldspar has told him to apologise, he’s got down and is about to make his way over.

It’s also important to note we that seeing him talk to a Horse as a friend, when just the scene prior we have seen that a large amount of the population don’t want Animals to talk at all. In fact, this is the only other human we see friends with an Animal in the entire movie, and it sets up immediately the fact that he will agree with Elphaba on her cause.

“...blended with the foliage.”

Here is his first reaction to Elphaba’s greenness. It is the rudest thing that Fiyero says to her all scene, and something that immediately puts Elphaba on the defensive, having heard shit like this all her life, but it’s also very on par with Fiyero and his constant habit of saying dumb shit whenever Elphaba is around (“yeah, or maybe it scratched me or something,” and “well, actually it was, but it wasn’t” come to mind), he’s surprised and he reacts with humour (something we see he does a lot).

It’s interesting to contrast this to his musical comment, “Well maybe the driver saw green and thought it meant go,” which is a lot more pointed and insulting, blaming the situation on her (though to be fair she does wake him up and attack him for what his carriage driver did), Fiyero in the movie reacts dumbly but not maliciously.

“Is this how you go through life? Just running amuck and trampling anyone in your path?”

Elphaba is immediately on the defensive. She’s already stressed about Doctor Dillamond, pissed off about being knocked over and now, as usual, she has met a new person who is insulting her skin tone. So she does what she does best, she puts her walls up and hides behind them.

“No.”

*Feldspar laughs*

Fiyero is shocked by this attack. He’s naturally charming, to the point where he relies on his charm to get him out of situations. So the fact it doesn’t work stuns him a little. This is why Feldspar laughs, because he knows Fiyero and how he normally acts, and it is funny to see him not immediately manage the situation.

“No, sometimes I’m asleep.” *looks at her flirtily*

Fiyero recovers, his walls are back up. He’s over the shock of seeing someone green and how she’s reacted to him, so he goes back to charm by flirting with her. Notice how he is using self derogatory humour, it’s easy charm that he knows how to use – he’s trying to ease the situation by insulting himself and making her laugh. It’s also another way of cultivating his image, Fiyero very deliberately portrays himself as stupid, flirty and lazy (he sings an entire song about it!) and here he is playing it up.

Also, I’m pretty sure this is a reference to their meeting in the musical (where he is actually asleep), which is cute.

*Awkward pause*, “Yeah, alright, alright, here we go. No, I’m not seasick.”

Elphaba, who is not at all used to people flirting with her, but is used to people asking questions and insulting her skin tone – has picked up none of the playful implications and only that he is stupid and lazy, and therefore starts the rant that she’s said 100 times before.

“Neither am I.”

“No. I did not eat grass as a child.”

“Oh you didn’t? I did!”

But Fiyero starts replying! Again, it’s all charm and self derogatory humour, but he’s sensed the unease, he did not come to insult or attack her, and he’s trying to lighten the situation with his usual techniques he uses on everyone – but they are not working.

“And yes, I have always been green.”

“And the defensiveness? Is that a recent development?”

And here we see Fiyero let down his shield a little, and let on that he’s less dumb than he’s acting. Fiyero is remarkably good at understanding people, it’s how he manages to maintain his facade in the first place – and it’s how he ends up being an effective double agent through most of act 2. Fiyero immediately realises that Elphaba is putting on an act too, that she’s not just attacking him because she’s annoyed at him but that there’s something more going on there.

I love it. I love it so much. It’s such a good addition to the musical canon, because all the traits for Fiyero to be like this are already there, and it adds an extra bit of depth to our understanding of why he’s fascinated with Elphaba – because he knows that she’s another person hiding her true self from the world. It’s such a good link to the Lion Cub scene later where Elphaba pretty much calls him out on the same thing.

*Elphaba stares*

*Fiyero tries a smoulder*

“Hm.”

There is a second here where Elphaba realises that she’s been called out. That she’s attacked him when he wasn’t being malicious and it does cause her to retreat slightly.

Fiyero, now in safer territory, puts his walls back up and goes back to flirting. Elphaba, again not used to this at all, doesn’t really understand this and is still in a bad mood about the Animals, so breaks the moment.

*Feldspar laughs, Fiyero tries to shh him but laughs too.*

*Elphaba notices and stalks off.*

So this is interesting. From context clues, what Feldspar is laughing at earlier and Fiyero’s comment later, it appears he’s laughing at Fiyero, that his easy charm hasn’t worked and he’s found himself on the back foot. Fiyero, bewildered, but still playing up his persona, laughs too. Elphaba sees this and, obviously, immediately takes this as them laughing at her greenness, and therefore any goodwill from what he’s said is gone, and she stalks off.

“I’m off for some more trampling, may we offer you a ride?”

Fiyero, bless him, tries again. He’s seen he’s offended her, though probably hasn’t quite connected exactly why, and tries to make right. So he goes in with more self derogatory humour as well as a genuinely kind offer – it probably isn’t safe for her to walk back in the dark – but the moment has been lost.

“No thanks. Get stuffed.”

Elphaba’s walls are back up again. She might regret the “stuffed” comment by the end of act 2 though...

“Wow, Feldspar, we have just been spurned by a girl.”

“Indeed.”

“Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Fiyero ends the scene baffled, unsettled, but interested. He plays it off as if he’s normal and also reassembles his walls and defensiveness, again playing into the lazy playboy persona he puts on, ready for his next scene with Galinda.

Analysis of Fiyeraba interactions in the Dancing Through Life/Ozdust Scene

Analysis of Fiyeraba interactions in the Lion Cub Scene in the movie

An In Depth Study of Elphaba and Fiyero in the Train Station Scene