#r: sunshine and cloud

[softskiesahead]

any luke thingz?

thinking about…….the card they’re releasing on en soon >.> kind of sick and twisted honestly

[asxgard]

Semper Fi | [1/8]

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!doctor!reader

| Next

Summary: You’re the ray of sunshine to Jack’s rain cloud. What do they say about opposites attracting?

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: dipping my toes into writing for jack. i kinda love him and his dynamic with this reader, so that’s why there’s a question mark referencing the number of parts this will have. will likely be writing more for them.

(Semper Fi from the Latin “Semper Fidelis” meaning always faithful, which is the motto for the U.S. Marine Corps, but I also feel like it perfectly encapsulates his character)

starts roughly two years before The Pitt, making Ellis a PGY2 and Shen a PGY3 (also Langdon & Collins a PGY2, Mohan a PGY1/intern, and McKay & Mel would still be in med school, MS4). I also refer to the year by R#, meaning Resident Year#.

Word Count: 1.6k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: age gap (it feeds me/reader is late 20s, Jack is late 40s), foul language, people being bad at dealing with their feelings (…Jack), trauma, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, sunshine/grumpy dynamic, angst, mild gore relating to patients, death mentions, mild suicide ideation/jokes

not beta read

You rolled in from out of town like a spring day, warm and sweet. Jack Abbot really had no idea what to think of you at the start, assessing you silently — it had to be youthful optimism. It had to be. You were likely closer to half his age and only had a few years as an attending under your belt, with a persona that oozed family medicine or pediatrics.

How the hell did you end up in emergency medicine? He knew that whatever hospital you had come from, the Pitt would beat the cheery right out of you.

Just one shift and all your sweet smiles and doe eyes would sour.

It rattled him that you did not. Not even after your first week. Not even when your gloves and gown were soaked in the blood of a car crash victim, or when the trauma room was loud with a little girl screaming, or when you told the parents of a ten year-old-boy that he was dying. You walked out of Trauma-1 with a long sigh and then continued on about your day — like exiting back into the main area had reset something inside you.

Give it a few years, he thought bitterly.

Hearing your laugh echo through the halls of the ED sent alarm bells ringing throughout his system — how the hell were you laughing? What were you even laughing at?

Aside from the handful of conversations you had had together regarding patient care, you had not said much to him. Perhaps one of the nurses had advised you to steer clear of him, worried his no-nonsense, rigid exterior would rub off on you. It was clear as day to see most of the staff enjoyed having you on nights with them.

You moved with purpose throughout the ED, checking on several of your patients before moving to the charge desk to do charting, or scribble notes. He had to hand it to you, you were efficient, despite your soft edges.

The charge nurse on nights, Bridget, was talking to you quietly when he walked by, glancing up at the board. The lull was rare, like the quiet before the storm, and he found it interesting that you took time to enjoy it. He was brutal efficiency, checking crash carts and restocking, never letting himself grow idle.

He looked back at you, “Gonna chit-chat all day?”

Your eyes found his and you only blinked, unfazed by his tone. “Everything alright, Dr. Abbot?”

He frowned before gesturing to the board, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like that.�� Said Bridget, with a simple shrug.

You only smiled at him before turning your attention back to Bridget. You picked up a tablet, focused more on that than on Bridget, but you nodded along as she told you about her son’s most recent football game, still clearly engaged.

He minded his tone when he directed you to the ambulance bay to help with a GSW victim being wheeled in. You assessed the man quickly, moving alongside the gurney into Trauma 1. You made quick work of it, paging surgery and ordering a handful of tests, before putting your hands to work.

Jack nearly sighed in relief, knowing he would not have to hand hold — the last thing he needed was an attending who he needed to keep an eye on. He knew he would do it anyway — perhaps it was the military in him, constantly taking in input of his surroundings, never allowing himself to miss anything.

How you guided Dr. Shen with an echocardiogram to show pericardial effusion and allowed him to drain the fluid. Or how you handed tough cases to Dr. Ellis to help her learn while you stood ever vigilant by her side. Or when you sat with the intern, Sullivan, through losing his first patient. He didn’t hear the advice you offered, but he noticed that Sullivan got back to work shortly thereafter, looking less miserable.

He realized that he still didn’t fully believe that you were a perfect fit for the ED, but you were a sound teacher.

—

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, or the Pitt as you had come to learn, was a welcomed change in your life. You had completed your residency and two years as an attending at New York-Presbyterian. You hadn’t fully intended to leave New York entirely, you just needed to get out of there — there was hardly any thought as to where you would end up.

Administration had needed you mostly on nights, which had not been your preference, but you didn’t argue. You took in your new workplace quickly, engaging with your new co-workers and trying to put your best foot forward whenever you clocked in.

While the Pitt was no less chaotic than the ED in New York, there was a particular restlessness you had begun to notice as the weeks ticked on. A never ending stream of patients, short-staffing and bad coffee seemed to weigh heavily on the ED, like it could never quite catch its breath.

The chief attending on your shifts, Dr. Abbot, took some adjusting to. He was nothing like the asshole at your last ED, but he usually had an stony, unreadable look on his face. You had never seen him crack a smile, and his gaze was more intimidating than you had expected. He had a habit of staring — not inappropriately, just assessing, just watching. Constantly observing the ED, patients, the board, you. It was not unkind, per se, but his eyes frequently held a heaviness that most backed away from — but instead of intimidating you, something instead took root in your gut.

You never took his demeanor to heart — he had been in the ED a long time, and with his calculated and calm practiced ease in which he operated, you suspected military training. The way he held himself, the way he moved, the way he demanded attention as soon as he stepped into a room did little to deter that thought.

The annoying little flutter made itself known every time you met his gaze in the weeks that followed, or when his hand met yours over a patient. It was frankly elementary, a stupid work crush — he was so much older, and he was your chief attending. Hardly appropriate. You still barely knew him, so it was easy enough to shove the feeling aside and work.

After one of the longer shifts where you had stayed an extra hour due to a hard to stabilize trauma, you wandered up to the roof. You had just intended to catch some air before returning to your apartment.

Just have a moment of solace to clear your clouded mind.

You were surprised to find you were not alone, looking across the roof to see Dr. Abbot. He was beyond the safety railing, overlooking the city, and a worry invaded your insides. Like in most things, he was just quietly looking over the city with a detached look in his eyes — not quite serious, but not entirely healthy.

You supposed this was how he dealt with a particularly gruesome shift. The topic of your own mortality was never a light one, but you could see how one might find comfort in the reminder of it. You liked to look at the sky, be reminded that life continues on, the world keeps spinning.

“So, you come here often?” You asked, startling him.

He turned to look at you, his eyes hard, “Do you?”

You shrugged with a smile, “I like to watch the sunrise.”

Abbot’s narrowed eyes held on you for several moments, before he turned back to the city, “Just spent the last hour and a half coding that kid…”

“I was there,” you said, stepping closer to the bars while still giving him ample space. “We did everything we could.”

His eyes were on you again. Sharp. Intimidating. “How do you do that?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

He sighed, putting his hands back into his pockets like he was removing as much of himself as he could. “I don’t even know why I do this anymore. This job.”

“Because it matters.” You told him, looking over to the sun rising on the horizon. “Because we’re good at it. Because they need us. Because we need it.” You shrugged lightly even though he wasn’t looking at you. “The little things keep me going, mostly.”

Silence encased you. Most of your mentors had called that nativity.

“You know, a little girl tried to give me her stuffed bear today.” You said, glancing at him. “Her mother was coding and she wanted to give the bear to me, for luck.”

A simple smile came over your features. The mother and daughter in question had been hit by a drunk driver earlier in your shift — the mother had come in critical, while the daughter had come out of it with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.

“And those little moments? They’re enough.”

You breathed in all the horrors you had seen before exhaling them, giving them to the wind. Your mind would always be haunted by the things you saw, but you did always try to focus on the good, on the things you could control.

You both stood there together for several minutes. His outlook was not likely to change, not over some pretty words when he had spent his entire career pushing it down, and you weren’t looking to change it. But the quiet now resting between you? It was warm. It was something that was seen, like a shred of light trickling through the darkness.

He came back from the edge and moved under the railing. You moved off the roof together, a quiet understanding finally settling between you.

[ Next ]

Solely inspired by this post/picture that I saw last week

I have a similar idea planned for Robby as well whoops

(still figuring jack out so please forgive this && this will not be as frequent/consistent as some of my other stuff while i learn to write for him lol)

[moonstruckme]

hi, how are you?

really move your writing, it has def helped me through tough times, so thank you for that so much, I cannot tell you how much appreciation I carry for you

I was wondering, since you are okay with writing about self harm scars (I think, if I understand your list or off-limit request stuff correctly, if not, sorry, then just ignore this) if you would maybe write something with Sirius x reader, where maybe r isn’t feeling all that great abt her scars (preferably on her thighs, but if not also totally fine) and Sirius draws on them and reassures her and all that stuff

Hope you have a great day, sending you lots of love

Sending love back angel <3

cw: past self harm, discussion of scars

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 922 words

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Gorgeous, you can cut the shit. We both know I’m a modern Poussin.” 

You smile, radiant in the sunlight spilling into your sitting room. You came here to read, but Sirius was hellbent on distracting you, and as always he’s succeeded. Your book has been long since closed, the two of you lazing the day away with kisses and go-nowhere conversations while Sirius draws on your skin in black ink. 

“You’ve just said some obscure artist to show off,” you accuse. “You know I don’t know who that is.” 

“Yes, well, two can play at the game of belittlement.” 

Sirius is quite obviously drawing clouds. They live in the crook of your elbow, and they’re perfectly nebulous. You’re only pretending not to know because you enjoy playing with him. Luckily for you, Sirius enjoys letting you. 

“Is there going to be a sun?” you ask after a while. 

“Don’t need one. That’s you already, sunshine.” 

You make a phony groaning sound, clearly delighted. “You’re so cheesy.” 

“I know. See what you’ve done to me?” Sirius grins, tilting his head up for a kiss. 

You indulge him. You’re in an indulgent mood, all sun-warmed and languorous, reclining against the cushions like a goddess. You wouldn’t likely let him doodle all over you otherwise. Sirius is taking advantage of a rare opportunity. 

He goes back to work, adding some raindrops and then stars trailing up your arm. He thinks you’re dozing, but when Sirius turns to look at you again your expression has gone solemn. You’re looking down at your own lap like it’s a piece of gum stuck to your shoe. 

Your scars bother you, sometimes. Sirius can never really predict when those times will be—it depends on your mood, how often you’ve been thinking about them, and a slew of other things inside that lovely head of yours—but here in the sunlight he can see how you got hung up. They’re showier than usual, light and shimmery in the crease of your thighs. Faded, but there. 

Sirius puts his hand over them. Not to cover, but to caress. 

You seem to snap out of your reverie. “Sorry,” you say. 

“What for?” he asks. 

It’s a trick question and you know it. You’re silent for a time. Silence is not usually Sirius’ favorite thing, but he lets it lie, stroking his index finger over your leg. 

“I’m just,” you admit in a soft voice, “not liking them very much lately.” 

“Yeah?” He looks up at you, seeking. “Have you been feeling okay?” 

“Yeah. I have, really.” 

“You’d tell me if not?” 

You nod. Not quite looking at him, but Sirius knows that’s more evidence of shame than dishonesty. You trust him, and he trusts you. 

“I don’t think you have to like them, baby.” He kisses gently beside your chin. “I’d like it if you didn’t hate them, but I know you can’t always help it.” 

“I don’t know if I hate them.” Your eyes seem glued to where Sirius is rubbing your leg. Your voice is small. “I just…sometimes I don’t care if people see them, but other times they feel so embarrassing.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Well, that’s silly.” 

You frown. “Why?” 

“Because,” he says, uncapping his pen again. You don’t stop him when he starts drawing small flowers over and in between your lines. “I—look, you’re allowed to feel any way you want about them, okay? Obviously. But the way I see it, they’re just something that happened to you.”

Admittedly, Sirius didn’t always feel that way. When he first saw them, he’d been angry—at you, at your brain, at anyone and anything that had ever made you feel awful enough to do this to yourself—but it hadn’t taken long for that initial wrath to deliquesce into a wet, formless sorrow. Sirius doesn’t like not having anyone to blame. He likes thinking of the people he loves hurting even less. But it was a reality for you at one time, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it now. All Sirius wants now is to keep enough light in your present that maybe someday it washes out the past. It may never happen, but he can hope. And he can hold your hand no matter what.

He twines the fingers of his free hand loosely with yours, making looping lines for petals on your leg. 

“I don’t like that they did happen,” he admits, “but I don’t like that I broke my arm in fourth year either.” He senses your eyes going to the scar on his forearm. Once large and long, but now faded. “Nothing we can really do about them, though.” 

You hum. “Yours was an accident.” 

“I know,” Sirius murmurs. He looks at you. “I know they’re not the same thing, baby. But I don’t think you wanted your scars any more than I wanted mine, right?” 

You hold his eyes this time, your gaze tentative but full of love. “No.” 

“Right.” He kisses you. Lingers until you soften into it, your lips parting for him. Sirius pecks the corner of your mouth once he’s done. “So, you just keep talking to me, and I’ll tell you when you have something to be embarrassed about. Okay?” 

Your smile comes almost unwillingly, your eyes slipping from his to look at the blooming garden covering your legs. “Okay,” you say. 

“There’s my girl. Now, do you think it would tickle terribly if I drew a circus on the bottom of your foot?” 

“Yes.” 

“Perfect.”

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ F*ck me all night, show me who you are❞

superbat x ftm!reader | p*rn with no plot, nsfw, fluff, established relationship, one-shot | reader has had top surgery and significant bottom growth | sub. bttm. reader | | wc: 3.2K

warnings: oral sex (r! receiving), dirty talk, squirting, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as cock/dick/member. terms like boypussy, cunt, pussy, hole, cocksleeve are used), unprotected sex, d/s dynamics, pattinson!bruce wayne and corenswet!clark kent

author’s note: this is all @nouearth’s fault btw, lmao. Also, this was posted 2-weeks earlier on my Patreon, if you'd like to support me, please feel free to check it out!

listening to ▸ Pornstar by Ness Barret

There was nowhere else you belonged other than here. Sprawled on the mahogany desk of Bruce Wayne’s at-home office, the crackling wood in the fireplace cast shadows across the rich dark woods and semi-covered oil paintings of older Waynes patriarchs. The heavy curtains were drawn but no light made its way through — Gotham City’s weather was as dreary and cosy as always with its pitter-patter of rain and soothing rumbles of thunder in gloomy clouds.

Your legs were spread wide — just the way Bruce preferred. Your thighs tense and tremble as you press your hips down, trying hard not to buck. His thumb soothed circles to the side of your waist, his tongue dipping between your folds like a languid cat. It’s a game he enjoyed. Bringing you closer and closer to that edge of ecstasy then leaving you hanging there — practically teetering over.

It’s not completely his fault. Even if he did want to make you cum — which he does — he wasn’t allowed. He’d agreed with Clark after all that you weren’t allowed to cum if both of them weren’t present. You had been smug initially. Confident in your ability to sway Bruce and Clark’s desires, making them bend to your whims with a few well-timed gasps and whines. You truly underestimated how strong-willed your lovers were.

“Bruce, please” your lips were wet with spit and that damned gloss that’d gotten you in trouble. Smeared across your cheek, chin, and Bruce’s thick cock.

“Hm?” he groaned, not even lifting his head as his nose bumped into your twitching cock. Bruce flattened his tongue against your tip and wrapped his glossy lips around it. The sensation makes you bring your heels to the edge of the table, so Bruce uses his strength to hold your hips firmly.

“Bruce — Bruce! I’m so close, please let me cum.”

What sweet sounds, Clark thinks as he lands quietly on Bruce’s balcony. The stone gargoyles and intricate architecture greet him and perhaps it’s due to how many times he’s found himself here but he thinks they’re beginning to look friendlier rather than intimidating. Even with the rain pelting down on them and thunder rumbling in the clouds. Gotham’s weather was a stark contrast to Metropolis City’s sunny self but Clark didn’t mind it.

The balcony door handle gives no hitch or resistance, Clark grins as he slips inside. He had told Bruce that he’d try to make it time for a stay-in dinner with their boyfriend but made no promises. Naturally, Bruce had sent him a voice-recorded message of your rapid panting and choked-up gasps. The unlocked balcony doors of Bruce Wayne’s manor were just his way of preening at being right.

You fluttered your eyes open at the smell of rain and sunshine. He smiles down at you, his eyes warm and soft as always as he braces his hands next to your head.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you go limp when Bruce finally pulls his head away from between your thighs. 

“You’re late,” Bruce mumbles as he brushed his thumb over his lower lip, sucking off your slick after he slipped it between them.

“You didn’t exactly wait, Bruce” Clark retorted lightheartedly, cupping your face and brushing his thumb down your warm cheeks. 

“Look at this poor thing.”

When he cooed at you like you were some poor farm animal – you found yourself getting more and more aroused. Bruce could see how you clenched around nothing at it. It amused the dark knight, he brushed his rough palms on your thighs and you groaned softly, bringing your knees together to deny him the pleasure of teasing you. He arches a brow pointedly but you refuse to glance his way, turning your head to place a sweet kiss on Clark’s palm instead. 

“You sure you want to play that game, honey?” Clark is still upside down from your view, that cute little curl against his forehead bouncing lightly as he tilts his head. “You know how Mr Wayne gets when you try to be a brat.”

Bruce scoffs at Clark’s teasing. “He clearly gets that streak from you,” he grabs Clark’s chin and they share a loving kiss above you. The sight alone caused excitement to spread throughout, it was such a funny thing humans did — the rush of blood and endorphins that washed over them like a wave. With his heightened senses, it was something he caught on easily during interviews, though he tried his best not to be too invasive in normal situations. But when it came to you and Bruce, it was an instinctual pull to know what was happening to the both of you. When he found himself missing you too much, Clark would slip his eyes closed and just hone in on the sounds of your heartbeats. That steady thumping would never fail to make him feel comforted. He chuckles, the kind that’s almost steeped with sweet condescension and pulls away from Bruce’s lips to glance down at you. 

You with your furrowed brows and pouted lips that were smeared with gloss with your hair sticking to your forehead thanks to Bruce’s talented mouth. 

“Does he? I think he gets it from you.”

You peel your back off the table to sit, huffing and puffing as you bring your legs down and stretch your toes out.

“Stop trying to give yourselves credit for my brattiness, I put a lot of effort into it, okay?”

You flatten your hands across Bruce’s chest then push him to sit down on his leather chair. Push was a strong word — he allowed you to unceremoniously guide him to be seated while you tried to stand on shaky legs. Clark admires the view of your naked body as you sit on Bruce’s lap, spreading your legs and calling out his name so sweetly.

“You get so brave when he’s here, hm?” Bruce holds onto your hips, tilting it forward so Clark would have easier access. “Gonna make a mess all over my pants like a bitch in heat again?”

You lean back into him, brushing your teeth against his chin as you grin at him. “You can’t afford the dry cleaning, Brucie?”

Clark nearly guffaws at your bravado. Mere minutes ago you were nearly sobbing as you begged for Bruce’s mercy. Hoping to make him cave into his desire for you and yet here you are now, shamelessly using his lap as a seat while you stroked your twitching cock and spread your legs for Clark. 

Still, in his blue and red outfit, Clark shamelessly kneels on the floor in front of you. He politely pulls his cape onto his lap and presses a kiss to your dick. You were already so sensitive, it was enough to have your thighs twitching. Clark peers up at you, his long dark lashes framing those sweet grey-blue eyes and warning you silently to keep those legs open for him. 

Clark spreads your cunt open with two fingers, groaning softly as he slips his tongue inside of you. You bite down on your lip just as he slips his eyes closed. The taste of you never fails to make his cock chub up, even in this honourable suit that he uses to save lives. It was your gift — your power. He swears every part of you makes his world continue to spin.

When he focuses on you just enough, he can see every part of you — even those invisible to all. He had used his supervision for plenty of things before, looking through buildings or checking what people hide under their jackets, but there was one time Bruce had intrigued him with a new fact. 

Clark had been working on a new piece in Bruce’s library — because that's something most wealthy folks had in their homes apparently — and stumbled across a picture. Bruce glanced over as Clark hummed inquiringly, and said; “Blaschko's lines.”

“Is it a skin condition?” Bruce shook his head, turning his attention back to his research. Alfred had called him a stubborn mule for it, what with him still being wrapped with bandages around his torso and practically being covered with minor injuries from his motorcycle stunt. Clark assured Alfred he’d keep an eye on the brooding Batman while he continued to work in the library, fluffing up every pillow before Bruce walked in. 

“All humans have them, they’re just invisible to the naked eye most of the time.”

“So humans have stripes?” Clark sees Bruce contemplate his question but he ultimately gives nothing more than a gruff hum and turns his attention back to his highly confidential files.

Bruce’s skin patterns were gorgeous. It spread from his spine, like the roots of a tree or the veins in the leathery wings of a bat backdropped by light — Bruce always wondered why Clark loved to trace his lips down the curve of his back and Clark would never tell him that its because he’s admiring this secret on Bruce’s skin. 

He strokes over the pattern of your skin with his thumb. What you think was mindless shapes had always just been Clark admiring your ‘stripes’, committing it to memory and relishing that only he knew what his mate's patterns were. He gently pressed down on your thighs, groaning as he brushes his teeth against your dick. 

“Did you like the audio file I sent you?” Bruce fondled at your chest, pinching your nipples as he worried over your neck and shoulders. You try to arch your back but he firmly presses you flat to his chest, trailing his tongue to the curve of your ear. 

“I almost opened it in an elevator,” Clark muttered as he slipped his fingers inside of you. You swallowed them up eagerly, already so wet and warm from Bruce’s languid and tortuous session with you. Two, then three, the Kryptonian is patient while he pushes past his first knuckle and second and finally until he reaches the base. You’re so close — you’re clamping on his fingers like a vice, practically pushing him out while you panted and squirmed. The wet spot on Bruce’s bulge made him chuckle. 

Bruce groaned appreciatively as Clark squeezed at it with his other hand. So good with his hands, like a true farm boy. 

“That would’ve been fun,” you groaned out with a loose grin. 

“No, it wouldn’t.” Clark flushed up at the very thought of it. Letting other people hear your whorish noises didn’t rub him the right way either. 

“You’re so naughty,” his words made you coo. You reach for his handsome face, guiding it until he’s leaned over you and Bruce while his hands are still between both of his mate’s legs. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and when you stroke over his chin you giggle at the slickness that coats him there too. 

“You love me anyway. You love me too, don’t you, Brucie?” 

That wasn’t something either of them could deny. You turn back to Bruce, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheeks before he presses his lips to yours, when Clark leans in he huffs in amusement but gives him as well. 

Clark slips his fingers out, earning a sigh from you, and unclips his cape. 

“Let’s get to somewhere more comfortable so I can make both of you cum, yeah?” 

“Clark’s naughty too!” You muse out, relying on Bruce for support as he curls an arm around your waist while he stands. 

“Guess you rubbed off your pervertedness on him,” Bruce chuckled lowly into your ear. You aren’t ashamed of this at all, nearly purring in delight at his astute observations. 

Clark shakes his head, focusing on the task of tossing the plush cushions and throwing pillows on the carpet in front of the fireplace. With a flourish, he dries and places his cape over the makeshift bed. Bruce lays you down, settling on your left side while he takes off his loose black shirt, relishing in the way your eyes drink him in. 

You tenderly flatten your palm against his chest, brushing over his chest hair and tracing it down to the happy trail he has. You loosen his belt and Bruce watches you as you undo the zipper next. It’s strange for him — to need as much as he does now. Bruce knows he shouldn’t pride himself on someone who didn’t find the necessity of relationships — whether it be platonic or romantic. Other than Alfred, everything and everyone else had been superficial. Especially at the beginning of his career as Gotham’s Dark Knight where he had nearly abandoned his Bruce Wayne identity in the public eye. 

Then Clark and you came into his world. Almost serendipitously. It wasn’t easy for the three of you, he’ll admit he didn’t make it easy with his standoffish nature. But you were determined to show him what love was like — what being in love would be like. 

To protect the people he loved, to have a chance to protect them in the first place. 

Clark settles on your right, now naked as he’s kissing your shoulder. Bruce gives a low moan when you begin stroking his cock, giving both of you a show because he never wants you to take your eyes off him. He loves this, he loves you, he loves Clark. 

Bruce’s body is a masterpiece. Years of hard work and dedication etched into him — carved even. When he sucks in a breath, his abs contract and the veins on his arms and neck seem to stand out much more. He’d turned his body into a weapon and here he was, pliant and willing for Clark and you. 

Clark’s stomach is softer than Bruce’s, the definition of his abs not that prominent but it’s still firm as he presses it to your back — his cock rubbing between your ass as he slowly ruts his hips against you. 

“Please,” they both flutter their eyes open as you plead. “Please fuck me.”

Clark presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, nodding as he reaches for Bruce’s hips. He kicks off his pants fully, his chest hair tickling your chest as he presses close. It’s bliss to be between them like this. The comforting pressure on your front and back causes a rush of endorphins, making your brain go fuzzy. You’re in their care, at their mercy, and there was no other way you wanted it. 

Clark lifts your leg, supporting it as Bruce slides inside of your cunt. 

You’re squeezing his cockhead tight enough to have him hissing through his teeth, but he persists. You’re strung tight from their teasing, their edging, and now you’re barely keeping it together as Bruce presses more of his big dick inside of you. It’s such a marvel, with its curved shape and the delicate mole just under his head — when he fully sheathed inside of you, you swear you can feel him nudging parts of you no one had ever done before. 

Bruce thrusts and you mewl, gripping his shoulders as Clark rubs patterns into your thigh, his dick practically pulsing against your ass.

“B-both inside, God please both of you inside of me please.”

Clark’s careful as he smears some lube onto his cock, Bruce always hid one or two bottles in each room, and then so very carefully he nudges your hole. God, he’s thick. Your jaw aches just remembering how difficult it was to keep all your spit in your mouth while stretched around him.

You’re panting between them, a sheen of sweat already forming despite the rain pattering outside — the fireplace was making your skin glow, turning you into this ethereal vision of pure lust as if you were some modern-day god of eroticism. You might as well be, what with your two lovers on either side. Gods of justice and hope keeping you safe and fulfilled. 

Clark groans out Bruce’s name as he inches in. “Your dick feels so good rubbing against mine, oh shit,” he’s holding onto Bruce’s plump ass, hitching his body closer and making all of you moan. 

“Clark, ah fuck,” Bruce’s composure is melting away. Your warm velvety insides, your mewling, Clark’s groans of pleasure, his dick against Bruce’s — he was just a man, nobody could fault him for succumbing to his desires. 

When they’re both fully sheathed inside, you’re impossibly full, the sensation causing you to gasp and cum. Bruce and Clark grunt as you twitch around them, practically milking them as you jerk and shiver. When you go limp on Superman’s cape, they let you have a moment to breathe — your chest raising and falling rapidly like a rabbit’s as you make a wanton albeit strangled noise. 

“You’re doing so good for us,” Bruce says. Clark makes a sound of agreement, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead as they both patiently wait for your cue. 

“So good, taking both of us in like a good boy, our good boy. Our perfect cocksleeve.” 

Bruce’s words make you whine. He’s so good at making you sink deeper into that submissive state with just his words. That bastard, you think with a fond expression on your face. 

You sigh softly, fluttering your eyes closed as you stretch your back on the cape and plush pillows. 

They set the pace. Slow and deep at first, easily falling into a tandem rhythm. As Bruce thrusts in, Clark thrusts out — never giving you a moment of reprieve despite their gentle kisses and touches. The sounds coming out of your mouth are pure erotica. The sweat beading on your skin is being licked off by Clark while Bruce is determined to create a collar of hickeys on your neck. He places it high — guess it’s turtleneck season for you after this. 

Clark is always careful with his strength, he’s calculative with every pound of pressure he uses. So when you feel him tighten his grip on your thighs, you know it’s purposeful. He loves leaving his marks on you and Bruce, knowing how the both of you go wild for it. 

“You getting close, darling?” Clark grins dopily at Bruce, loving the face of concentration he has. Bruce nods, his dark hair now messy and sticking to his forehead as his hips stutter. “What about you, honey?”

You squeak, choking on a scream as you leave red welts on Bruce’s chest and grip onto Clark’s cape. 

The man of steel chuckles, picking up the pace as he kisses you, stealing your breath away from you as he pounds up into you. “Clark — ah - Clark,” hearing Bruce call out to him like that makes him even more reinvigorated. The both of them are beginning to lose the rhythm they set, now rutting into you with one goal in mind; to mark your insides with white.

Clark cums first, and Bruce follows shortly after and you’re not even sure if you’re cumming anymore. You whimper as globs of their cum manage to escape you, staining Superman’s red cape with white. 

“I can’t feel my legs,” you say between your panting. They laugh, soothingly running their hands down your body as you ease down from their rough treatment. 

“Isn’t that what you wanted in the first place, honey? Acting like a brat, being so naughty?”

You harrumphed, hiding your face in Bruce’s chest which just makes both of them laugh harder. 

[lovebugism]

“you were outside for one minute, how can you be dying of hypothermia?” with Steve and ditsy reader🥹

ty for requesting! — you walk in the freezing cold to ask steve if he would still love you if you were a worm (ditzy!fem!r, established relationship, 1.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Your arrival is marked, first, by an ignored knock. 

Steve’s lazing on his couch, heavy with post-work exhaustion, with his resident schmuck slouched at his side. Robin acknowledges the tapping at his door before he does. “You gonna get that?” she mumbles, mostly uncaring and partly distracted by the TV.

Steve shrugs, unblinking. “It’s probably just a package or something.”

“Or maybe it’s your girlfriend,” she retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm as she turns to him with wide ocean eyes. “Remember her?”

Steve scoffs. “She said she wasn’t coming over today… Why do you think you’re here?”

Robin would punch him in the shoulder if she wasn’t so tired. “Asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

Another knock echoes down the foyer. This time, followed by a voice — muffled and achingly familiar. “Can somebody let me in before I die out here?” 

Steve jumps off the couch without thinking, filled suddenly with newfound life and distant horror. He vaguely hears Robin mumble “told ya” as he rushes to the door. 

He wrenches it open with an iron grip around the knob. He’s smacked in the face by the bitter breeze waiting on the other side. Snow falls from heavy clouds, swirling with freezing wind, and you’re standing out in the middle of it all.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Steve blurts. Not because he’s unhappy to see you, but because it’s basically a tundra outside, and you’ve got on the thinnest jacket he’s ever seen.

Your brows pinch as your face swirls something pitiful. Eyes wide and glassy, you blink snowflakes from your lashes. “Dying of hypothermia,” you murmur into your knit scarf, shrinking into your crossed arms.

Steve manages a small laugh. “Okay, you were outside for one minute. You’re not dying of anything— now get in here before you freeze.” He ushers you in with a warm hand pressed against the small of your back. “And I meant, what are you doing here? You said you were staying home ‘cause of the snow.

“I had a very important question to ask you,” you insist while he helps you peel off your jacket and scarf. Crystalline flakes fall from the fabric and onto the hardwood, melting almost instantly.

He hangs both on the rack for you. “You walked half a mile in the snow to ask me a question? Why didn’t you just call?”

“‘Cause it’s too important— I had to see you first.”

Your pout is childlike and firm. Steve concedes with a nod. “Okay. Well, uh— Robin’s here. Is that okay?”

You’re beaming almost instantly, forgetting about the boy entirely as you duck past him and down the entrance hall. You find Robin slumped on his sofa, still in her Family Video vest because unbuttoning it was too much work. Her bitten lips curl into a smile at the sight of you, the ball of sunshine Steve’s trying to tame.

“Are you guys having a sleepover?” you ask, all giddy at the thought.

She leans her elbows along the back of the couch and shrugs. “Well, we were. But since you’re here, I’m thinking we should just kick Stevie out.”

“Yeah. No. Not happening,” Steve deadpans as he appears behind you. He guides you towards the stairs with a warm arm around your shoulder. “C’mon— Let’s go.”

You pout. “Wait. Where are we going?”

“To get you some fresh clothes. I just got a load outta the dryer— Remember when you said you were freezing?”

“I’m past freezing, Stevie. I’m dying.” You groan and lean much of your body weight into the boy beside you. He laughs and carries it no problem.

“I’ll warm you up. You’ll be okay.”

He gets you into his bedroom and starts taking off your clothes. “At least take me out to dinner first,” you quip in a tiny voice as he pulls your sweater up and over your head. He scoffs and replaces it with a sweatshirt. Hissweatshirt. From the laundry basket full of fresh clothes he hasn’t folded yet. Then he sets you on the edge of his bed and tugs your jeans down your thighs, only to put a warm pair of baggy sweatpants over them again.

There’s something distinctly domestic, you think, about someone taking off your clothes only to put fresh ones on you again.

And then, even though he knows you’re perfectly fine, Steve cuddles with you under the sheets of his bed for a moment. He says it’s to help you warm up faster — “‘cause you were dying, remember?” But really, he’d just missed you. In a very simple, human way. And it feels good to hold you to his chest like this.

“Feel better?” he asks, filling the silence of his bedroom, chin bobbing against your head.

“I feel more alive now. If that’s what you’re asking,” you answer.

“Less than an icicle?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you’re the cutest damn icicle I’ve ever seen—” He pulls just far enough way to see your face, smiling when he finds you grimacing at his dumb attempt at flirting. He plants a chaste kiss on your pouted mouth. A low smack fills the bedroom. You’re beaming all over again when he’s gone.

“What was your question again?”

Mouth still sparkling with longing, your face swirls with confusion. “Huh?”

“You said you came over to ask me something.”

“Oh, yeah!” you shout, wiggling out of his hold to face him more. You grow suddenly serious — as serious as a person like you can be, anyway. You talk wildly with your hands as you ramble. “Well, I was at the trailer earlier, and I was talking to Eddie, and I’m pretty sure he was high—”

“Figures,” Steve scoffs.

“—‘Cause outta nowhere he was like, ‘Would you still love me if I was a worm?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah. Obviously. I mean, I’d be sad about it and everything, but I’d still take you everywhere with me.’”

“He might be easier to tolerate that way,” he jokes, pink lips curled into a small smile.

You don’t seem to hear it.

“And then I thought— ‘Oh my god, what about Steve? Like, would he still wanna be my boyfriend if some evil witch turned me into a worm?’ And it really freaked me out, and Eddie was zero help, and then I got so sick about it that I had to come over here and ask you.”

You don’t take a single breath until you’ve vomited all the words out.

Steve — equal parts impressed and worried by you — nods slowly and with wide honey eyes. He calculates carefully what to say, lest the wrong thing spill from his mouth and send you spiraling all over again. “Okay… Well… For starts, yes, I would still love you.”

He swears you breathe a sigh of relief then.

“But like… Can I ask why you got turned into a worm?” he wonders with pinched brows.

“The optics don’t matter,” you insist girlishly.

“Right. Well. Can the evil witch-woman turn me into a worm, too? Or is that against the rules?”

Your doe eyes begin to sparkle, wide and full of hope. “You’d wanna be a worm with me?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distant with disbelief.

Steve scoffs. “Of course, I would. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere without you.”

You knock the breath from his lungs when you lurch suddenly forward. Chest against chest, your arms wrench tight around his neck. He’s stunned for one moment, then hugging you back the very next. His wide palms rest warm along your spine. He manages a laugh despite being halfway strangled.

“I mean, think about it. I could spend the rest of my life hugging you like this if we were a couple of worms.”

“Well, you’re gonna do that anyway,” you quip, muffled into his neck.

Steve hums. “Touché.”

You pull away from him after a moment or more, serious all over again. There’s a firm furrow to the center of your brow and an unsmiling glint in your eye. “We have to set ground rules, though. Just in case.”

“Of course,” the boy concurs, fighting back a smile.

“If I get turned into a worm, and you couldn’t be one with me, what would you do?”

“Like… If I wake up and there’s just… A worm on your pillow?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, face pinching ‘cause he’s really thinking hard. “I’d be really sad.”

“But what would you do with me?”

“I’d get you a tank or something. Or, like, a little necklace to put you in— so I can carry you around everywhere.” He figures that’s the most perfect solution to this wildly unlikely situation, given the risk he couldn’t be there with you. Then your pout deepens, and he second guesses. “Is that okay?”

He can’t believe he’s entertaining this at all, really, but you’re worrying’s got him stressed about it, too.

“I want you to hold me in your hand,” you tell him, quiet and sincere.

Steve nods. “Deal.”

“…And hold me at eye level at all times.”

He laughs before he can stop it. “Sure.”

You start to smile, but don’t let yourself. “But how would you find me?”

“If you got turned into a worm?”

You nod, slow like a sheepish child. “How would you know which worm was me?”

“I’d find you,” he insists.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs with a shrug, mostly uncaring because the idea of finding you has never worried him before. There isn’t a world where the two of you aren’t together. Even in the infiniteness of time and all its parallel existences, Steve thinks you’ve found each other in every single one. 

“I’d always find you. In every universe,” he assures, wearing a crooked smile on his lips when he boops the tip of your nose with his finger. “And out of every worm.”

[sparklystarrrr]

Just saw your RiddlexKing of Hearts Reader. It’s so adorable and I love seeing Riddle be smothered in affection. But I had an idea… (this is post overblot) Riddle leaves for a minute and our sweet lil reader turns to the group and says that she knows about the overblot. She knows about all the chaos SOME of the freshman *cough Adeuce cough* cause, and she knows how stressed Riddle can get. Then, with a warm smile on her face, she threatens to come back and take care of the guys if anything close to the overblot happens again. She may not be able to do anything about Riddle’s mother (yet) but her family has enough status and power to help take care of some misbehaving boys. When Riddle returns he’s confused why all of his dorm seems on edge but his lovely fiancé is just smiling and compliments the sweets served at the party. Maybe she even says they should think about having Trey bake their wedding cake.

Sorry, went off a bit there. You don’t have to write it but the idea was just stuck in my head. I just really love when the sunshine character can be all scary and intimidating with a smile.

THATS MY FAV TROPE EVERRRRR

Queen of My Heart Pt. 2

Synopsis: Sunshine can turn into a storm very quick…

Contains: Riddle R. x Fem! King of Hearts! Reader, continuation of pt.1, kinda short sorry!

The Unbirthday party was going swimmingly. Everyone was full of joy and laughter, there was no Tyrant ordering people around, the food was delicious, and the air was shining and light. "Dear, I'm heading to the restroom for just a moment. I'll be right back." Riddle said to (y/n) who sat prettily in her King's chair. "Of course darling, be quick!" she spoke with a warm voice like the sweet honey Riddle enjoyed putting in his tea. He then pressed a small kiss upon her forehead and made his way inside the dorm house.

Little did the students of Heartslabyul know, their sweet and kind (y/n)’s attitude would sour the second her red-headed fiancé was out of her sight. Once Riddle was completely hidden from view, her aura darkened. It was like a pitch black storm cloud completely blocked out the sun in just seconds. Her warm smile became strained and her posture tightened. She gripped the end of her pleated skirt,”So boys, I got many letters from Riddle these past few weeks...” Trey, Cater and the Adeuce duo turned to her at the sound of her voice. They felt uneasy. Before they could ask if she was alright, she continued.”Care to tell me why and how Riddle Overblotted..?”

Suddenly and without any warning, the girl became dark and ominous. The air was heavy; pressing down on every single Heartslabyul boy. "U-uh, Miss (y/n), it really was an accident-" "No yeah uh, we totally didn't piss him off at all..." "Bro why would you expose us like that??" "He's perfectly fine now (n/n) and I think that's all that matters... I hope." The four boys sat at the same table as her stammered endlessly. As much as they tried to figure out a way to excuse themselves, (y/n) came back harder and stronger making them shrink back in fear.

"Oh, you don't need to make up excuses... I know everything..." She said in an eerie whisper while snapping her head to the first year boys who were sweating their butts off in fear and practically shaking under her piercing (e/c) gaze. Her chaste smile was nothing but terrifying. They'd never seen a woman flip the switch on her warm and soft demeanor while still smiling happily. The whole yard of boys went silent. "You all truly have nothing else to say? My my..." She trailed in her sweet voice. "You do this again... and it'll be off with your head on my accord, got it?"

The boys nearly fainted. Every single one of them hurried out of their chairs and made it a point to bow in deep fear. "Y-yes Ma'am!" She laughed bitterly. "Very good, let the party resume!" She clapped. Suddenly, that gummy smile was plastered back onto her face while she cut herself a few slices of various cakes and tarts and other desserts. The students nodded hastily and wearily went back to eating and conversing.

(y/n)'s eyes sparkled as her red haired fiance made his way back to the party. He felt the strained feelings in the air and looked around at his fearful students who were much quieter than before. As he walked closer to his designated table with his five favorite people, he saw that his sweet little angel (y/n) was sitting and eating desserts with an adorable smile on her pink lips. Around her? Terrified Adeuce and a scarred Trey and Cater.

He sat down next to his fiance hesitantly and she began going on her sweet little rants"Oh Riddle dear, Trey really did make the desserts so well! I remember you took me to his bakery for our anniversaries, we should totally have him make our wedding cake shouldn't we?" They girl spoke happily while chomping down another bite of the creamy cheesecake.

He smiled at her, then hesitated to speak,"Absolutely my dear, but I have a question... Why are the students in shell shock..? Did something happen whilst I was away?" Riddle questioned in deep concern. "Nothing happened! I just had a quick chit chat with them. Right boys?" She looked at the four boys next to them. They quickly muttered "yes" and "yeah"s under their breath and looking down at the food in their plates.

Riddle sighed then let out an airy chuckle. He gently brought the young lady's delicate hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on it, trying to calm her nerves. The boy found it easy to read his fiance. Knowing that she'd scared all of Heartslabyul into having nightmares of her tonight? It's safe to say he was a proud future husband.

[cosmicalily]

"four letters (l-o-v-e)" - a minho oneshot by @cosmicalily | prequel to 'type it out (h-e-a-r-t)'

author's note: i may or may not write a part two for this (depending on if people like this one!) i've never really written a fic like this where there's zero romantic action/physical intimacy, but i kind of loved this whole soft, slow burn, and the idea that you can come up with your own ending for it (unless i end up writing one lmao). obviously, this fic is inspired by the 'youth' mv, bc i'm down WILDLY bad for 'youth' minho! also as i wrote in a little blab on my blog this will likely be my last post in my 'regular' writing schedule as it's my very last prewritten fic!! i'd been stockpiling them for days to keep me going but with school restarting (final year!) i know i'll most likely be too busy to write regularly. thank you for all the love over this summer (or winter!) xx i'll still be on here whenever inspiration strikes!

warnings: fights, blood, angst, difficulties at school, suspensions

The sunlight on the emerald coloured lawn was warm, melting through the semi-sheer clouds like honey. You stretched yourself out, torso propped up by your elbows, eyes squinted before eventually, you gave into the glare, closing them fully. You loved the spring sunshine; everything around you felt like it was saturated and glowing, and there was a freshness to the air that the other seasons didn’t carry. You felt a soft kick to your back and opened your eyes reluctantly, batting an arm aimlessly to return the blow.

“Were you asleep?” Seungmin asked, chuckling amusedly. Despite his smirk, he offered a hand to help you off the grass. Foolishly, you reached for it, and once you were about two-thirds above the ground, he let go, letting you fall back onto the lawn with a soft thump.

“You asshole,” you groaned, dusting off your plaid skirt. You pulled yourself to your own feet, stretching your back and slipping your arms into your blazer, giving Seungmin one last dirty look. He simply laughed at you, the way he always did, but you didn’t miss the quick once-over he gave you, checking to make sure he hadn’t really hurt you. 

It was just the way you communicated. He teased, you tolerated. And sometimes, if you were bothered, you retaliated.

You reached for your bike, about to set your backpack in the front basket, when suddenly Seungmin tapped you on the shoulder. Not in the irritating way to interrupt you when you were studying, but urgently. You turned your head, craning your neck, and your jaw dropped.

Seo Changbin and Lee Minho were fighting.

Not play fighting, the way you typically saw the two of them tussle around in the back of class. No, there was no laughter, no joking or nicknames. Seungmin pulled the two of you a little further behind the bicycle shelter, eyes wide in shock.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit,” Minho spat, blood trickling from his lip as he fought against Changbin’s headlock. “You knew that was my last chance. I needed that grade and you’ve gone and fucking screwed it.”

Changbin scoffed, wincing a little at the scratches Minho’s nails left on his forearms. “You’re the one who doesn’t give a shit about school. Why do you suddenly care, huh? It’s just a stupid assignment.”

“They’re gonna kick me out if I fail another,” Minho hissed. “You knew that, but you still had to fuck around and ruin everything for me.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered to Seungmin.

Not quietly enough, apparently.

Minho’s head turned, sharp eyes immediately spotting the two of you. Your heartbeat quickened, and Seungmin mumbled curses under his mouth as Minho quickly pulled himself from Changbin. He gave the latter a quick shove, then pointed in the direction of the bike shed.

“Fuck,” Seungmin murmured.

“What are you looking at?” Changbin shouted, expression hostile.

“Let’s go,” you urged, and the two of you hopped on your bikes, making a hasty exit. 

When you turned your head back, Changbin was nowhere to be seen. Minho, however, sat on the lawn, bloody face in his hands. 

He looked so much smaller, so vulnerable. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned your bike against a fence and ran back to the school grounds, Seungmin shouting your name from behind you.

But Minho was gone now, too.

Seungmin panted beside you, cursing at your stupidity for running back. 

Blood now streaked the grass where you’d been sitting earlier.

“Ms. Park and I have been thoroughly debating exactly what to do with you two, Lee Minho,” Mr. Shin sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Because clearly, the past consequences we’ve inflicted have had minimal, if any, impact.”

Minho’s eyes brightened. “Another suspension?” He asked eagerly.

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Shin shook his head. “Especially when your attendance is already as bad as it is, and considering the fact that the past seven suspensions we’ve assigned you have only seemed to make matters worse. No, we’ve had to get creative.”

Minho rolled his eyes and yawned, but his heart beat a little quicker. Usually, this conversation would be done in two minutes; it was a script he’d repeated many times. Several apologies, each a little more dramatic than the previous one, then a two-day suspension. Then, Minho would be out of the room, collecting his bag, and could do whatever he pleased. It was like a routine.

‘Creative’, though? He did not like the sound of that.

“We have decided that perhaps individualised punishments are not effective,” Mr. Shin continued. “So we have constructed somewhat of a community service plan for you to complete.”

“What, like picking up rubbish?”

“What, Mr. Shin,” he groaned. “Have some courtesy, please. And no, something different. It will be collaborative, but also educational. Changbin will be doing the same; Seungmin will be assisting him in instructing the children’s baseball team. And, in your favour, we have taken into account your dislike towards physical exercise. However, you’ll still be responsible for a group of people, which will hopefully teach you leadership and empathy. Obviously, we were cautious of assigning you this role alone, so we have recruited some support.” Mr. Shin stood up from his desk and opened his office door.

“Hi Minho,” you said gently.

“Hi, Y/N,” he mumbled.

You pulled out a sheet of paper covered in squares and numbers, sliding it across the desk to him. 

And the smile Lee Minho offered you, small but certain, as he stared down at the piece of paper was nothing short of genuine. In that moment, he seemed different. 

You saw the same vulnerability you’d seen the day before.

“Have you ever played bingo?”

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger - comment, dm or send an ask to be added

[bitterandbruisedsev]

Introduction...that I was forced to do.

Hi. I'm Severus Snape, and if it wasn't already obvious, I don't want to be here.

These are my flags ;

I'm in Slytherin. Yes, boo all you'd like. It feeds my sarcasm and hatred.

People I know...and people who know me for reasons I won't get into:

@miss-lily-evans-potter - Lily is a dramatic irony kind of gal. She's known me for too long, and I'm pretty sure I know too much about her (tmi doesn't exist).

@prongspotter-s - if the bisexual flag had some extra question marks, Potter would be the perfect personification of it.

@blacksheepoftheblackfamily - rich asshole I wish God would strike with a holy bolt of humbling lightning. He's rational like once every before a full moon because that's when his little boyfriend dicks him do-

@w-o-r-m-t-a-i-l - he's trying his best, and yet he's getting nowhere.

@moony-lupin-rjl - ...what can I say? He's okay. The only one of the three Mga hunghang na palayok na naninigarilyo that doesn't piss me off.

@sunshine-and-rosiers - rosier girl with her head in the clouds...a bit scary? Somehow? Perhaps it's that Rosier intimidation.

@hestia-farida-jones - ...no. she's fine I just...shes um. There.

@bellatrix-carina-black - Bella. I thought she was...an odity...at first. She's a lot better once you get to know her. I can't believe I said that.

@fartybartyjunior - crouch. jr... psycho. We don't talk much, and I like keeping it that way. He creeps me out.

@cissa-swans - Cissy. She's kind. I've known her for a while now...I guess she's a little like an older sister?

@marlz-mckinnon - loud with too much energy, but I can appreciate her creativity, despite it being aggravatingly loud.

@marylicious - she's not that bad. She's kind, fashionable, and all that good stuff.

@gorgeous-golden-gilderoy - he's stupid and yet witty...idiots yearn to be like him while smart people look the other way

@xenophilius-the-strange - he's alright. A bit like Pandora but...more coherent.

That's it for now.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

svt as people i pass by in the streets (and how i feel about them)🏃‍➡️:

scoups: middle-aged men in torn clothes but with a hella expensive watch on their hands. 5/10. i don't really care about them tbh

jeonghan: baddies who look me up and down. 10/10 cause i yearn for their approval

joshua: old ladies with disapproval written all over their face. -828484948/10. pls grandmas LET ME BE

jun: middle school kids who hold hands and swing. 3/10. they are s l o w and take up too much space on the side walk. the three points are for their cute giggles

hoshi: those people who ride their bikes over the sidewalk and not on the road. SOLITARY CONFINEMENT/10. they should NOT be allowed to be out in public. keep them locked up pleaseeee

wonwoo: high school students who seem to melt to the floor with each step. 8/10. i feel bad for them cause academic pressure is no joke. minus two points cause they hold up the streets with the metaphorical clouds of doom over their heads

woozi: the speed walker who doesn't touch the pavement at all. 7.03/10. pros= they zoom by me so fast i don't even register them. cons= once in a while they clip me on the shoulders and make me trip. still i feel mostly positive about them.

dokyeom: sweet middle-aged ladies who i know will ask me if i ate or if i am hungry if i actually talk to them. 377227/10. pure sunshine on earth. i love them with every fiber of my being and will forgive them for being slow.

mingyu: people who talk LOUDLY on their phones while walking. croissant/10. they are actually fast walkers so i don't have to have my ear drums raptured for too long. on the other hand, if they are talking about some juicy gossip, i never get to hear it in full

minghao: old men who have their backs in 90° and take the exact same length of step every time. 4.5/10. only because i envy their composure and grace cause i can never be them

seungkwan: people with too large bags filled to the b r i m. and they keep smacking me till i am out of the strike range. -127/10 bc they literally look at me as if it's MY fault they are at overcapacity. the audacity omfg.

vernon: people who wear headphones AND use their phones while walking. DEATH ROWWW/10. just go to the side and pick out your playlist, man. i have somewhere to go

chan: the nodder. i pass by them and they give me a 'nod' and we understand each other on a sub atomic level. 11/10 for shared solidarity and for validating my whole existence.

[softskiesahead]

dont forget i believe hes the top up card for this anni this summer

I should give up I fear

[runawaymaven]

Hiii, sorry for my extremely horrible English, I literally used Google translate, but I wanted to make a request for Paul where he imprint on a Cullen, she wouldn’t be a vampire, but a witch. A girl that Carlisle and Esme or Rosalie and Emmett adopted, and she has a personality similar to Rosalie’s, but nicer and kinder like Alice. She would be magical and would become immortal at 18, like every witch. She decided to stay in Forks after having a premonition about Bella’s condition after the Cullens left. Anyway, she would meet Paul, and it would be a “grumpy x sunshine” dynamic, with her defending Bella from his attack, and him conflicted because she is his imprint, but still a Cullen. She’s provocative, with a sharp tongue that attracts him, but still a Cullen. And the pack is having fun with the whole situation.

A/n: Hi! I tried to write this the best I could, so I hope you like it !

Fate's sharp edge - paul x reader

The clouds hang low over Forks, heavy and gray, threatening rain as always. There’s a tension in the air, thick and unyielding. Bella’s presence in La Push is unexpected, especially with the pack on edge. The peace between the wolves and the Cullens is fragile, now teetering dangerously on the edge.

You arrive at the clearing just in time to see Paul storming toward Bella, his body a blur of frustration. His muscles are tense, eyes flashing as he takes in the sight of her standing in front of Jacob, the scent of vampires still clinging to her.

“What the hell are you doing here, Swan?” he growls, his voice full of danger. “This is our land. You stay away, go back to your filthy blood suckers. Oh, wait...” He trailed off with a smirk, the pack laughing in the background.

Before Bella can answer, you step forward, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“She’s here under my protection.”

Paul’s head snaps toward you, his entire body freezing as his eyes lock onto yours. His reaction is immediate, the air around him changing, thickening. There’s something in the way he looks at you—something primal, something new.

“And who the hell are you to protect her?” he spits, though his voice lacks the usual venom.

You smirk, amused by his sudden change in demeanor. His frustration, his anger, it only fuels the fire in your chest. You’ve seen wolves like Paul before—gruff, hotheaded, ready to fight. But none of that bothers you. In fact, it excites you.

“I’m Y/n,” you say, your voice steady, yet challenging. “Adopted by the Cullens, but I’m not a vampire. I’m a witch.”

The moment the word leaves your mouth, something changes in him. His breath catches, his muscles stiffen, and for a second, it’s as if the world has stopped spinning.

Imprint.

You don’t realize what’s happening, but Paul does. The pull between you is magnetic, undeniable, overwhelming. His heart races, his body drawn to yours in a way he can’t comprehend. But the conflict in his chest is immediate. You’re a Cullen—or at least part of their family—and everything in him screams that this shouldn’t be happening.

Paul grits his teeth, his fists clenching. “You’re a Cullen,” he says, as if that one fact alone should tear you apart.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes gleaming with challenge. “Does that bother you?” you ask, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “That I can protect Bella better than a pack of oversized dogs?”

Behind him, you hear the snickering of his packmates. Embry, Quil, and Jared all watching with amusement, finding the situation far too entertaining.

“Oh, this is priceless,” Quil says with a laugh. “He imprinted on a Cullen.”

The air is thick with their laughter, but you stay focused on Paul. You notice the way his jaw tightens, his eyes darkening as he fights against something internal. You’re pulling at him, though you don’t understand why.

“What’s the matter, wolf?” you tease, your voice dripping with amusement. “Cat got your tongue?”

His temper flares—though not as much as you expect. His frustration simmers beneath the surface, restrained, struggling against something else. Instead of blowing up like you thought he would, he takes a step closer to you, his gaze locked on yours.

“You’re part of their family,” he says, though his voice falters slightly, like he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You shrug, maintaining the playful edge in your tone. “And you’re part of a pack that wants to keep Forks safe, right? We’re on the same side.”

His fists tighten again, but his eyes remain on you, drawn in by the warmth you radiate, the magic that hums around you. Imprint, the word echoes in his mind. He doesn’t want it to be true, but every instinct in him screams that you are his now.

You glance back at Bella, your focus shifting slightly. “Bella’s in danger,” you say softly, your voice more serious now. “I saw it coming.”

Paul blinks, his frustration giving way to confusion. “Saw what?” he asks.

You look back at him, your gaze steady. “I have visions. Premonitions,” you explain, though you know it’s a lot for him to take in. “Bella’s going to need protection, and I’m not leaving her.”

Paul’s chest tightens. Your confidence, your fiery spirit—it’s everything that should drive him crazy, but instead, it draws him in deeper. He can’t decide if he wants to argue with you or protect you, and that conflict gnaws at him from the inside out.

“And you think you can handle what’s coming?” he challenges, though his voice lacks its usual bite.

You smile, taking a step closer to him. “I know I can,” you reply confidently.

The pack’s laughter hums in the background, but Paul’s focus is entirely on you. The fire in your eyes, the strength in your voice—it’s intoxicating. Everything about you draws him in, and despite the fact that you’re tied to the Cullens, you’re his now.

And that’s going to make things very, very complicated.

[academicfever]

so excited for race today... how r u all loves!

log: day 3: 23.3.25

mental health check _journal

Cook steamed vege and fish

meds_call home_ go on a long walk

yoga b4 bed

read for pleasure 30

shower and other self-care tasks

research work 2P

ways to bring joy: - Create a "comfort corner" with soft textures, gentle lighting, and calming scents - Build a personal playlist of songs that remind you of happy memories - Keep a collection of essential oils or candles that boost different moods - Practice mindful eating with favorite foods, focusing on textures and flavors - Take "sensory breaks" to feel sunshine, listen to birds, or watch clouds move - Create a touch-comfort box with different textures (silk, wool, smooth stones) - Use color therapy in your workspace with items that make you smile - Start a "curiosity journal" where you write down interesting questions - Watch educational videos about topics completely outside your field - Create small challenges like learning one new word in a different language daily - Play strategy games or solve puzzles that make you feel accomplished - Join online communities discussing fascinating topics - Create mind maps connecting different concepts you're learning - Write creative interpretations of your academic materials

[sternsalcove]

Dearest Esteemed Gentle Readers!

Oh, how the voids of our delightful gatherings do tug at the heartstrings! This latest absence has extended beyond all reasonable expectations! How utterly trying it must have been to endure such a hiatus. But fret not, for I return replete with tantalizing tales. Let us commence with the evening's grand ball, shall we?

It appears that our beloved Hogwarts has encountered a touch of distress in orchestrating its festivities — a predicament traceable to the headmaster and his dutiful council. Yet, undeterred, the jeunesse dandyut themselves in resplendent attire, showcasing their coiffures and artistry for sheer delight. In a mere week, a multitude of videos have captivated the populace, leaving parents either swelling with pride or rife with concern over their progeny's antics.

Ah, the allure of drama—a veritable feast for the senses, indeed! And where might we harvest these succulent treasures of unrefined passion, you inquire? Only from the most illustrious of scholars naturally!

Whispers abound that the enchanting Lady Lily J. Evans and the enigmatic Lord Severus T. Snape have officially entwined their lives. At long last, we need no longer ponder the particulars of their union. Yet, the pressing question remains: can Snape truly embrace the love that Lady Lily so generously offers? And what of the formidable Lady Bellatrix Black? Is it not rather unjust that she finds herself neglected amidst such fervor?

In other news, we have yet another romantic pairing: the dashing Lord James F. Potter and the debonair Regulus A. Black. A most stunning revelation! All eyes now turn to Sirius Black, awaiting his retort—if he deigns to provide it, of course!

Gilderoy Lockhart, with flourish most theatrical, commences his ascent to notoriety, brandishing his new quill in a manner that ensnares the gaze of many, particularly that of a certain Marauder, whose countenance seems to bear the weight of distraction. Might it be Peter Pettigrew's wandering thoughts, or rather, the leavings of Lockhart's dazzle clouding our vision? One can only hope for enlightenment in due course.

Pray, let us divert our gaze to matters of a more pressing nature beyond our quaint abode, shall we? It appears our esteemed aristocrats have taken to indulgences of a rather questionable nature. Indeed, one might posit that it is not merely the downtrodden but also the affluent who partake in these less than decorous pastimes. While we may begrudgingly accept a gentleman puffing on a cigar, instances of herbs and powders clandestinely exchanged are rather scandalous!

Reports have emerged of youthful scions laboring for these affluent clans, hawking wares and sampling their illicit delights. Furthermore, whispers abound of a certain Sirius O. Black engaging in these indiscretions with the nonchalance of a man oblivious to the brewing tempest, quite the spectacle to behold!

As for Severus T. Snape, it appears he was recently embroiled in a rather dubious transaction with the beloved rogue of Hogwarts. One must ponder—are they in collusion? Is Miss Evans privy to this most precarious romance? If so, how does she reconcile her affections? It seems that perhaps the bonds of true love are indeed impervious to such trifles.

Yet, dear reader, I fear time dances away from us. Do return posthaste for another scintillating revelation.

With fondest regards, Stern~

( @miss-lily-evans-potter , @bellatrix-carina-black , @fartybartyjunior , @cissa-swans , @marylicious , @gorgeous-golden-gilderoy , @hestia-farida-jones , @acelovesremuslupin , @marlz-mckinnon , @sunshine-and-rosiers , @little-star-regulus , @w-o-r-m-t-a-i-l , @prongspotter-s , @xenophilius-the-strange , @bitterandbruisedsev , @blacksheepoftheblackfamily )

[morgana-larkin]

Hey! Are you still taking prompts? If yes, can you write about r, a librarian that's like a ray of sunshine to everyone at Abbott. But not too much ray of sunshine like Janine and Jacob (more like UV light jk). Then one day, r arrived at Abbott so quiet, not in her usual self,like her sun is heavily clouded. In the break room she's like spacing out, they noticed it and when they asks her if she's alright she would just look at them with a neutral reaction and not talk to anyone,as in anyone much to Melissa's dismay as she tries to make you talk. She misses you talk about your day when she visits you at the library before leaving. Mr. J notices, since r usually gives him a high five when she sees him in the hall way. Even Ava, as she made a joke and everyone laughed but you just gave her a blank stare and leave the break room. They thought r just needs space so they let her be. Then a day of being like that became a week, shutting people down and now the staff are worried, so Melissa decided to finally take the matter in her hands and helps R to finally snap out of the state she's in.

Thank you so much for this prompt! And yes my inbox is open for prompts. I thought this idea was cute and I hope you like it. Not edited in the slightest. I wrote this in more of Melissa’s POV but I don’t think any of you will mind.

Her Poco Sole (little sunshine)

Warnings: reader trapped in their head but that’s pretty much it.

Words: 2.6k

It’s Friday morning and you walk into Abbott with a smile on your face as always. You’re the librarian at Abbott Elementary and you love it. The kids are great, the staff is amazing, and you’ve never been happier. You see Mr Johnson and as always you raise your hand up for a high five and he happily gives you one.

You arrive in the break room and everyone is already there. You cross the break room to the fridge to put your lunch in there. “Good Morning everyone. Any weekend plans?” You ask everyone as you go to make a coffee.

At that, everyone shares any interesting plans that they have for the weekend. As you finish making your coffee you go to sit at Barb and Melissa’s table like always as Jacob finishes telling his plans and you smile at him as you listened.

“What about you Melissa? Got a hot date? Tv marathon? Seeing family and friends?” You ask her and she looks at you with a smile.

“What makes you think I have a hot date?” She asks.

“A little presumptuous of me then, alright got a normal date then?” You ask her and she snorts.

“You’re such a goof. No date this weekend. Unless you count my couch.” She jokes and you laugh.

“I would think that counts as a date.” You tell her. Then you engage in conversation with Melissa and Barb until the bell rings, and you all get up to start the day.

The day goes by and it’s spent organising and checking out books for kids. At lunch, you head to the breakroom and get your lunch and sit at your regular seat, beside Melissa, and start eating. The rest of the crew comes in a couple minutes later, as well as Ava.

“Hey y/n, I’m going to the club tomorrow tonight, wanna come?” Ava asks.

“Ava, the last time I went with you, you forced me to talk to a girl there and she was straight. So I think I’ll say no.” You tell her with a shake of your head. Ava looks at you and laughs.

“What if I promise that I won’t force you to talk to any girls?” She asks.

“I think I’ll sit this one out Ava, I got big plans to laze around and do nothing.” You tell her.

“You and I got similar plans, we should do it together.” Melissa says and you look at her with a smile.

“You got a date though.” You joke with her and she laughs.

“Hun, I can drop the date with my couch if I wanted, I’m sure it won’t be disappointed.” She says and you roll your eyes.

Lunch ends and you all get up to finish the second part of the day.

At the end of the day, you’re putting a book back in its rightful place when Melissa walks in.

“Hey you.” She says as she walks in.

“Hey yourself.” You reply back to her with a smile.

“How was your day?” She asks.

“It was good.” You then proceed to tell her all about your day. You tell her interesting things that the kids said or did, interesting gossip from teachers and everything else in between. Melissa looks at you the entire time with a smile as she listens. She always loves it when you tell her about your day, you always talk so passionately. “Anyway I’m rambling, how was your day?” You ask her.

Melissa proceeds to tell you all about her day as you both exit the library and you lock up. This is a little routine you both have at the end of the day. You both look forward to it, you tell each other every little thing about your day as you walk to you cars.

Melissa didn’t like you at first, she thought you were too cheerful and happy like Janine is. But she learned that while you are cheerful, it's not annoying like it is with Janine or even Jacob. She learned to love how happy and nice you are with her and everyone else, poco sole she likes to call you, which is little sunshine.

You end up just staying at your place that weekend instead of taking Melissa up on her offer, you sometimes do and you both always enjoy it.

Then Monday morning comes, and you drag your feet in through the doors of Abbott, the usual smile on your face is replaced with a frown. You pass right by Mr Johnson and you don’t offer a high five and he looks at you weirdly.

You enter the break room and you cross over to the fridge to put your lunch and get a coffee. Everyone sees that you don’t have a pep to your step and your usual smile. As you get your coffee ready, you're looking at your phone as Melissa speaks up.

“Hey poco sole, you alright there?” She asks and you look up at her then go back to your phone without answering her. She looks at you confused, as well as everyone else. Once your coffee is done, you pour it in your mug then you sit down at your usual spot. Melissa looks at you as she tried again.

“How was your weekend?” She asks you. You just look at her and shrug. Melissa looks at Barb worriedly. You’re never like this, this isn’t you. Before anyone could say anything else, Ava walks in and she pours some of the coffee in her mug.

“Y/n, there were a lot of cute girls at the club, you missed out, although I would have had you do karaoke.” She says and everyone laughs, they know you’re a bit shy singing in front of a crowd. Everyone laughs except you, you just look at Ava with a blank stare and then get up and leave. You pass by Mr Johnson on your way out and once again, you don’t offer a high five.

“What’s going on with y/n? She doesn’t seem like herself.” Mr Johnson says and everyone looks at Melissa who’s the closest to you.

Melissa doesn’t know, you were fine on Friday, and you two texted on Saturday and Sunday like always and everything seemed fine. “I- I don’t know.” Melissa says and she’s worried about you. She’ll try again at lunch, maybe you’re just not having the best morning, it happens to everyone she thinks.

At lunch your mood didn’t change, in fact it seemed it got worse. You seemed like you were in your own head the entire time, and if anyone talked to you or asked a question, you would just stare at them for a few seconds and go back to what you were doing or just ignore them. Everyone decided that maybe you just need some space as maybe you’re having a rough day but then you’ll be back to your usual smiling self tomorrow.

You were not back to your smiling self tomorrow. You came in again the same way, Mr Johnson sees you and you’re still not smiling and he sighs. Everyone else in the break room stopped what they were doing when you walked in. They all hoped you would be back to yourself again but no. Melissa was getting worried, she went to the library after school yesterday like always and you had already left. She didn’t like seeing you like this, the worst part is you didn’t seem sad, you seemed disconnected, like you aren’t even here. You were supposed to be her poca sole and right now you aren’t, and it broke her heart a little.

Melissa knew she had gotten feelings for you, I mean how can she not when you are how you are. Always smiling when you talk to someone, always listening to people talk with 100% of your attention, and she loves how passionate you are about even the smallest things. You always brought a smile to her face, no matter the mood she was in, and she wanted to do that for you.

At lunch she went to the library when you didn’t show up and when she tried talking to you, you just looked at her with a blank stare and went back to what you were doing. She gave up after several attempts and went to talk to Barb, “maybe she just needs some time Melissa. I’m sure she’ll be back to herself when whatever it is passes” Barb told her. So Melissa did just that. She didn’t talk to you when you sat down, she didn’t go to the library after school, she didn’t text you that she got home safely like always, that usually sparks an hour conversation over text.

And soon, the week goes by and it’s Friday and you’re still not back to yourself. Melissa misses you, she knows that you’re going through something and you’re not telling her, you and her tell each other everything. So she takes matters into her own hands. Friday after school, she goes home and grab’s leftovers from yesterday and then heads to your place.

She knocks on your door and you answer about 30 seconds later. And you have the same look on your face as you have had at school all week. Still she gives you a smile and offers food. And you just stare at her, not talking.

“Can I come in? I can heat this up and we can eat and watch tv.” You just step aside to let her in, Melissa thinks it’s a start, she will literally take anything.

Melissa heats up the leftovers and puts half on a plate for you and half on another plate for herself. She comes to the couch where you already are and she hands it to you with a smile. You take it from here with just a simple “thank you.” Even when you seem disconnected, you will always say thank you, it’s automatic. And again, Melissa will take it. She misses you so much that a simple ‘thank you’ from you makes her happy.

After you both finish eating and the episode of the show you're watching ends, Melissa has had enough. She sets the plates down on your coffee table, turns off the tv and looks over at you. You just stare at her with that blank expression you’ve had all week.

“What’s going on with you y/n? You seem so disconnected that it feels like you’re not even here even though you’re sitting right beside me. And not just today, you’ve been like that all week. You don’t talk to anyone anymore, you don’t come in with your bright smile and uplifting spirit. Mr Johnson says you don’t give him high fives anymore and you don’t laugh at Ava’s jokes like you usually do. And you know what? I miss you, I miss when you come in with that beautiful smile and ask me anything, our conversations at lunch , and especially our chats after school when I come and visit you in the library. And I also miss our little texting chats after school and on the weekend I miss hanging out with you or texting you.” She finishes and when she looks at you , you’re still just looking at her with that blank stare, the only difference is that you keep looking down at your hands.

And that makes Melissa break, she starts crying. You don’t know what to do, you’re not yourself right now but to your core you’re still her poco sole. You put one of your hands in hers and then you just continue to stare at nothing in front of you, still holding her hand.

Melissa is surprised when you hold her hand and it makes her stop mid sob and she sniffs. She realises that you’re still there but maybe trapped in your own mind. She’s heard about people that have done that , and they said that they just woke up unhappy about anything for no real reason and they detach themselves from reality. She remembers that a shock helped them, something that broke them out and snapped them back to reality, something real. So Melissa does the first thing she thinks of, she reaches over , pulls you to her and embraces you in a tight hug. “Please come back to me y/n, please.” Melissa begs while still hugging you.

And then she feels arms wrap around her, hugging her back. She pulls back to look at you and you have the smallest little smile she’s ever seen and your eyes aren’t blank. “Y/n?” Is all she says.

You look at her. “Hi Melissa.” You say. And she covers her mouth in shock and happy tears start rolling down her face. You’re coming back to her. She gets so excited that she leans over and kisses you on the lips and you freeze for a second, you pull her more to you when she goes to pull away and you kiss her back. And Melissa melts into the kiss, she’s been missing you all week and kept her feelings to herself about you for about 4 months. And while she’s happy this is happening, she wants to make sure she truly has you back. She pulls back and looks into your eyes, and she sees the familiar light behind them you always had and she smiles at you. “You came back to me.” She says and for the first time in a week, you smile at her, your usual genuine smile. “Are you ok?” She asks you suddenly.

“I think I am now. I didn't know what was going on, I woke up and suddenly felt nothing, I didn’t feel anything and it scared me but it didn’t stop so I guess I hid in my own mind, tried to find something, feel something. And then I saw you crying and a spark came, a spark of sadness and so I held your hand, and then you hugged me and my whole body

felt happiness again. The kiss was a nice add on. You tell her and she looks at you smiling, she’s glad to have her poco sole back.

Monday morning, you walk in the entrance with a smile and your usual pep to your step is back. You see Mr Johnson and he looks up and sees you smiling. You then raise your hand for a high five and he excitedly gives you one, happy that your back.

You walk into the break room and everyone is either on their phones or talking to each other, Melissa sees you though and she smiles at you, and you smile at her. You walk over to the fridge “hey everyone, did you have a nice weekend?” You ask and everyone looks up at you and sees you smile as you pour some coffee in your mug. And everyone smiles at you.

“Y/N! You’re back!” Jacob says and you nod as he runs over and gives you a hug. “We were worried about you!” He says

“Ik, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.” You joke as you sit in your usual seat. You look a Barb who gives you a smile with a “welcome back sweetheart.”.

Melissa is still looking at you with a smile. She then tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and you smile at her. Everyone sees the interaction and smiles then goes back to what they were doing.

Melissa doesn’t care if they know, all that she cares about is that you came back to her, her poco sole.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta ,@imaginesmultifandoms

If you wish to be added, then let me know!

[jobean12-blog]

Angel of the Morning

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader 

Word Count: 658

Summary: You wake Joel up in the best way 

Author’s Note: So I rewatched ep 1 of TLOU and I was like NO! It’s SO sad (and so good) but I thought, it’s his birthday, this is how it SHOULD have gone lol 😏thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it’s raining, it’s soft and sweet but it’s his birthday so a present is in order...o-r-a-l (m r-e-c) 

Joel Miller Masterlist

Your eyes blink open to the distant rumble of thunder and the soft pitter patter of raindrops against the roof. As your sight adjusts you realize the room is dim, the morning sunshine hidden behind the gray blanket of clouds outside your window.

Joel tightens his grip around your waist, mumbling something incoherent as he nuzzles his chin into your shoulder and pulls your back closer to his warm chest.

“Morning,” you whisper.

His breathing is steady as his fingers instinctively trace the curve of your hip.

You feel the soft press of his lips against your skin before he mumbles, “mornin’ darlin’.”

The rain starts to fall more heavily, a steady drumming at the window and you snuggle into his embrace.

“Is that rain I hear?” he asks.

“Mm,” you reply, turning so you’re on your back.

He shifts until his head is resting on your chest and he has you pinned to the bed beneath his arm. Your fingers fall into his hair and you lightly scrape them over his scalp, much to his contentment. With deliberate movements you trail your fingertips along his jaw and press them against his beard before working your way to the nape of his neck.

His satisfied hum rumbles through you and the hand that rests over your stomach starts to inch lower but before he gets too far you slip from his grasp and push him onto his back.

“Hey now,” he grumbles as he reaches for you.

With a coy smirk pulling at your lips you settle your thighs on either side of his waist and delicately drag your fingers down his stomach, stopping to pay extra attention to the dark trail of hair below his belly button.

He sucks in a breath and smooths his hands along your naked thighs, gripping your waist tightly when your fingers dip into the waistband of his boxers.

“You look like an angel,” he whispers.

Your expression says otherwise as you lift yourself and tug his boxers down, sitting in the same position while you lean forward and press soft kisses to his chest and stomach.

Every sweep of your lips has his muscles flexing and he drops his hands from your waist and runs them through his hair, the dark strands a wild mess against the pillow.

As your lips move lower he lets out a low groan and you can feel his thighs tense beneath you. You dip your head and tease him with your tongue, watching through lowered lashes as he grabs the pillow and grips it tightly, his eyes trained on you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs as you take him into your mouth.

His hips jerk upward as you swirl your tongue, sucking down more of him and following with the pump of your hand.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, releasing the pillow and pressing his hands to face.

His continued curses are muffled by his palms and when you slide all the way up his length and tease his tip he uncovers his face and your name falls from his lips in a desperate plea.

Every muscle in his body is pulled tight and his breathing ragged as you swallow him down again then slowly slide back up, only to do it over and over, all the while squeezing tightly with your hand in the wake of your tongue.

Long fingers clench the sheets as he thrusts his hips and watches as he disappears into your mouth.

“Fuck darlin’,” he groans before he swells and spills his release down your throat.

You taste every last drop, sucking your way back to the tip then trailing soft kisses over his stomach and chest.

He’s still breathing heavily, his skin hot beneath your touch. When you reach his shoulder you nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in. He wraps you in his arms, letting out a sigh and murmuring, “fuck darlin’, I love you.”

“Happy birthday Joel.”

@hiddles-rose @justkinsey @laineyreads @lorilane33 @beccablogsthings @kmc1989 @hallecarey1 @pedritosdarling @littleseasiren​ @blackwidownat2814​

[xuchiya]

"As long as with you" || jeong yunho

| genre: fluff. fluff. fluff | mentions: dislike. rain.

  your entire body shakes when you see clouds form and grey hues were amongst them. you have been a total rainy weather kid from the beginning, you were thrilled to be under the heavy or light rain, just to feel the coldness of the water drop down from the sky.

"yuyu~ it's gonna rain! it's gonna rain!" if an imaginary tail can be seen, yunho would have noticed how it swishes side by side, excitedly. He can hear from the couch how you were squealing when the sky rumbled while he crumbled deeply on the cushion.

you seem to love the weather; yunho seems to be the opposite. He threads to it. He does not like how the blue sky disappears behind those thick grey clouds, it's like consuming the entire world with its darkness.

Now, yunho does not fear darkness nor the weather, it's just not soothing his taste. He likes sunshines, he likes when the sun creates a blissful feeling that it calms him down that he will see this again tomorrow, the very next day and everyday.

“Here it comes!” You cheered, sliding the window door open. The wind immediately greeted you, making the curtains sway beside you. Unbeknownst to you, Yunho stood up quickly before you could step out and enjoy the rain, he had closed it shut, shutting down your excitement.

Staring, then blinking at the sudden actions of Yunho, “Ah-Ah Yunho?”, you were so blinded by excitement it took a while for you to notice his pale face. Your eyes widen. Completely abandoning the rain plan, you sat Yunho down on the couch.

You run a hand on his hair while your other hand circles his palm, “Oh Yunho~” He shakes his head, “No no, I’m okay darling. I’m just scared you’ll hurt yourself out there.”

You smile at him, squeezing his hand, “Of course I won’t but I know that is not the only thing that … scares you.” Yunho does not like talking about his dislike of rain. He didn’t not have any phobia of them nor traumatic childhood memories, it’s just the way it is scary that he won’t be able to see the bright blue sky again.

Shakily, Yunho nodded, “I do not like rain. I never like them, maybe because they rain too hard they cause so much calamity in places or because they pour down so much that it makes me hope less and less that this will be my everyday mood and I do not like it.”

You were unaware of his dis-likeness towards the weather you loved so much, maybe because you grew up loving the only weather that sent calmness around you. The sun is your enemy, you hated how hot it was, how it burnt your skin and almost dried all your favorite plants and flowers planted on your backyard yet by the looks of it, Yunho loved the bright sunlight.

It took a minute, between you two, you just realized how opposite you two were. Hence Yunho being portrayed as the golden retriever and loved absolute sunshines, they were also scared of things too. They retreat to their spots that calms them down.

Taking his hand again, urging him to stand up, “Come on.” Yunho was confused until he was dragged inside your shared room and dressed him up in a raincoat, a bucket rain hat. You took off his socks and plunged them into soft rain boots. 

You giggle, “So cute.” before taking him back towards the sliding window door that Yunho eyes widen, looking at you then towards the rain. You giggle running outside to which you howled and jump, watching as the rain drench from your head down to your feet while he stood still inside.

His heart thumps but then he realises that there’s nothing to fear. It just dawned on him, he did not like the rain, you do not like the sun yet here you both were loving each other despite resembling both you do not like. Yunho loves you despite liking darkness while you love Yunho despite loving the breeze sunshine.

Opposites do attract but they worked out.

As Yunho slowly urges himself to step outside, he removes the rain hat as he takes a step out of the door, removing the boots before he unbuttons the rain coat before running outside. The cold raindrops fell on his cheeks, the wind blowing on his drench skin yet it tickled him.

You turn around when you hear a giggle, your eyes widen when you see Yunho— not wearing all of the rain coat set; rather you watch how the water had drained all of the dryness of his clothes. The rain poured down on him, his hair was sticking to his forehead yet it made him more beautiful.

“Yunho— EEK!” You felt your stomach leaning on his shoulders as he placed you there and spun around. You hold onto his shirt while you chuckle, “Yunho!”

You dance, run on the streets, laugh and giggle. You never thought Yunho would overcome his own dis-likeness towards rain this fast. He seems to enjoy it as much as he loves the sunshine. You were distracted with the thought of him when you felt a warm hand on your waist and pulled close to a broad chest, looking up Yunho is already smiling on you.

“Care for another dance darling?” You chuckle, placing your arms around his neck. Swaying gently even with no music, Yunho leads you to dance rhythmically. You look up at him, to catch him already staring softly at you.

“What?” He shakes his head, leaning down to chase a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away, “I think I found my new favorite.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side, “What is it?” 

He looks up, the raindrop slowly splitting on his face and cascades down to his neck before gazing at you, pulling you close to him, “As long as I’m with you, I love the rain.”