#self indulgent galore

[hrodvitnon]

So This Makes a [Preview For a] SIXTH SIGNALIS Fic, Do I Hear Seven?!

of course it would be fic number 6 where i give elster a third leg

---

Look up "insatiable" in a dictionary and you'll find a picture of Scout Officer Ariane Yeong and LSTR-512 engaged in such debauchery it'll make your toes curl.

Their first time had smashed to pieces a dam holding back all desires and thus unleashed a flood, sweeping them away in the currents where they ride the waves – and each other – to a wonderful world of sex.  Like with kissing it starts out awkward and clumsy, but practice makes for more refined experiences each time; learning what they like and don't like, what makes their backs arch and legs quiver.  They won't learn everything about lovemaking or even master it for a long time, but they're more than happy to just crash into each other when lust takes hold.

Elster hadn't thought it possible for Ariane to become even more beautiful, but sometimes she likes being proven wrong, especially when the love of her life practically dances around the ship with a song on her lips, glowing from a night of passion and her gorgeous red eyes having a faraway look as if she'd witnessed the gates to heaven.  The Leng-born beauty may look angelic, but the thoughts brewing in her head and desires bubbling away in her body are burning like a written sin.

As willing as she is to turn Penrose-512 into a den of vice and claim Ariane on any and all flat surfaces available, Elster worries about her self-control.  She tries to get work done and be responsible alongside her newfound duties as a lover, bless her heart she does, but she's concerned with how easy it is to ignore her work in favor of screwing with Ariane.  Worries that favoring Ariane will neglect the ship, or that favoring the ship will neglect Ariane.  Hell, right now – she's working on switching out some lights but all she's doing is looking at her hands and imagining her fingers wrapped in Ariane's warmth, exploring her inner depths, curling her digits in the way that makes her sing...

Elster has to ask herself, Is this normal?  And her Self answers, which she can't imagine is normal for anyone.  While not an expert on the subject, she's fairly certain that talking to yourself is symptomatic of insanity, and she's definitely insane for Ariane.

It's perfectly normal.  But all I'm thinking about is sex.  All I want to do is have sex.  Welcome to puberty, kid.  Be glad you don't have to deal with menstrual cramps. 

Elster shudders at the idea, having helped Ariane deal with plenty of those already.  Sometimes being a Replika has its perks.

If it makes you feel any better, I was the same way.  It... does, actually.  It makes sense.  You're young and in love.  Things will cool off after a while, but you won't get sick of it.  Any tips for focusing on getting work done without distracting myself?  Think of math.  Never liked math.  Fuckin' witchcraft.

Elster chuffs.  But it's working; she has an easier time getting this chore done without letting her mind wander.  At the same time, however...

I'm pretty sure you're a sign of my persona degradation.  Is that what we're calling it now?  What else would talking to what is clearly a personification of my Gestalt memories be called?  Using a spirit board to contact your ancestors.

[brainjuicey]

I need to be MINDFUL of the things I read before bed. as much as these hurt/comfort fics help me process heavy things, maybe I shouldn't be dealing with fictional abusive alcoholics and sexual assault at 2am. I started having nightmares so I read darker stories to cope but now I can feel in my chest I'm not getting to sleep tonight

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐈𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k (help???)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, Wife!Reader, burnout, overstimulation (not sexually), arguing, angst followed by fluff, kiss and make up, virginal fingering, kisses galore, EVENTUAL SMUT, pregnancy sex, bit of body worship (he loves your pregnant body) cowgirl position, sensory deprivation sex.

𝐀/𝐍: I poured my heart into this one, not that I don’t always do but this one in particular just hits closer to home. And yes it’s a vent fic so very very self indulgent.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re tired. He’s tired. There’s only so much stress you can withstand before you reach your tipping point. Luckily your husband is here to keep you grounded

It started off with a throbbing in your head and as irritating as it was, it wasn’t bad enough to disrupt your daily routine. But as the week rolled on, the throbbing sensation began to get worse.

You were becoming easily irritated and it didn’t help with the workload you had to tackle. Even Miguel noticed a change in your mood but whenever he would bring it up and ask you about it, you would deflect his questions and tell him you were fine.

You couldn’t bear the thought of burdening him when your struggles especially when he had his own responsibilities and duties to fulfill.

You knew that if you admitted the stress you were feeling, he would insist that you rest, which was the last thing you needed, especially with how much you needed to get done this week.

You tried your best to ignore the nerves that were stretching to their limits now, but it was proven more difficult with each passing day. You would feel a sense of dread as soon as you got out of bed, mentally bracing yourself for the overwhelming day you had to face.

Your mind was preoccupied now as you reached over the high shelf for the spice jar. Your stomach was jutted out with the new life brewing inside of you, making it harder for you to manoeuvre around.

Just as your fingers brushed against the jar you were after, a sudden voice tore through the room, snapping you out of your trance.

“¿Qué dije sobre pedirme ayuda?” Miguel called out before he went over and stood behind you to take the spice jar you were reaching for. “What if something fell on you?”

“I don’t need help,” you insisted, reaching over to reclaim the jar back from him.

Miguel arched his brow in mild amusement. “You’re struggling to reach the spices, and you’re saying you don’t need help?”

“I’m fine, I’m trying to make dinner,”

“I know I know. But I’m here now so you don’t need to do that tonight,” You knew he was trying to emphasise the fact that he willingly took the time out of his day just to be with you.

Normally, you would be beyond appreciative towards his gesture. With his duties back at Spider Society HQ breathing down his neck all the time, it was a rarity that you both had an evening together like this.

He would either be saving the city or in another dimension, and although you would still be able to contact him through your watch, it would never be the same as having his physical warmth with you.

But right now, you were driven by your stress and too wrapped up in getting the job done to be in the right state of mind and properly enjoy the night.

“Why not? I can still cook you know,” you resorted, pouring some of the spice in the pot before stirring the content.

“And yet, I don’t want you to.” He said firmly before he turned you around to face him and rested his hands on your growing belly, silently conveying his concern for your wellbeing. “Now go sit,”

As the food continued to bubble on the stove, you retreated from his touch defensively. His face twisted in confusion as you questioned, “Why the hell are you doing that?”

His face fell further at your change in tone, “Doing what? Touching you?”

“No, treating me like I’m a basket case,”

“I’m treating you like the mother of my child. You’re pregnant and over exerting yourself,” he tried to reason with you. You attempted to conceal how much your senses were firing right now.

You couldn’t tell if it was the aroma of the cooking that was making you slightly nauseous but you were starting to feel agitated.

“I’m pregnant, not paralysed Miguel. I’m fully capable of doing this myself,” you could see the frown forming on his face and he definitely picked up the hostility of your tone.

“I never said you weren’t capable but I don't want you doing too much,” he argued back, his voice growing more insistent, mirroring your frustration. He wasn’t going to let your stubbornness sway him, even if it did irk you.

You could feel the heat of your vexation rising in your guts. You hated being interrupted in the kitchen especially when you were making dinner. Even if you were tired, you were still going to stand your ground and continue until you were done.

Throughout the last few days there had been a build up of tension that you have been bottling up and you refused to talk about it with him, even if he did ask you about it.

You had no safe outlet for your emotions and now you can feel it taking a toll on your daily tasks. It was almost palpable and you couldn’t control the sudden outbursts you were throwing at your husband right now.

A small part of you knew that he didn’t deserve this harsh treatment you were giving him. But that meek feeling of self awareness was quickly overshadowed by your clouded mind that was skewing your thoughts, unbeknownst to you.

Out of bitterness, you twisted the knob to switch off the stove before you turned to look at him. His annoyed expression didn’t falter, rather you could see his brows furrowed more. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn off the stove?”

“You wanted me to stop, didn’t you?” Now it was your turn to be confused, though you could still feel the lingering coldness.

He was so adamant on you not cooking so why is he still not satisfied when you turn the stove off? What was his problem?

“What are you trying to prove here?” He asked.

The question hit a nerve, the fact that he was insinuating that you had an ulterior motive just by a simple action. It was almost insulting. Was he trying to sound condescending just to throw you off?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,”

Ouch.

“Oh please, enlighten me,” There was an obvious edge to your tone and he glowered at that. You could tell he was really starting to get annoyed when you saw his fangs started to emerge from his canines, something that was only stimulated in the height of rage or arousal.

“Cut the sarcasm. You’re purposely getting on my nerves and it’s working. Now, are you going to answer my question?” His voice demanded clarity from you and you weren’t sure if anything you said would satisfy him.

“Like I said, I’m doing as I’m told. Why are you getting mad?” You snapped back. You didn’t want to admit that what he said made the shadow of sympathy you felt early crawl back again.

He wasn’t aware of the emotions you were keeping inside of you and probably thought you were purposely reacting this way just to pull his leg.

“You know damn well that’s not how I meant with my words,” he was practically growling now and you could see the crimson in his eyes flicker like a flame.

With a weary sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose— a habit that you both seemed to share. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this argument now, it was clear that it wasn’t going anywhere.

The throbbing in your head was back, but now it felt like a pounding sensation reverberating in your skull. Without another word, you turned to leave the kitchen leaving the half-cooked food behind on the stove.

“Where are you going?” You heard him call out from the kitchen before he took a few steps in your direction.

“To the room, I lost my appetite,” You headed your way up to the bedroom. You didn’t hear his footsteps following after you as you closed the door behind you.

You climbed into bed with the blanket over you and made yourself as small as your pregnant belly will allow you. There was a sense of bleakness that was shrouding you now— the underlying stress you’ve been feeling was still there but it wasn’t as overbearing.

With the silence in the room, you’d think you’d be able to calm yourself down a little from the heated interaction you just had, but instead your mind was still racing. You couldn’t stop yourself from straining your muscles no matter how hard you tried.

You tightened your grip on the blanket and buried yourself deeper into the sheets, trying to block out as much of the lighting from the room as you could. You didn’t notice Miguel entering the room until you felt an additional weight on the bed beside you.

For a long moment, all you could hear was his steady breathing and the occasional bed creaking before he spoke out of nowhere. “Well, at least the silent treatment is an improvement from earlier,”

The sarcasm was uncalled for especially now. It made your blood boil. To make matters worse, he kept going. His voice, that you always loved hearing, now sounded like an irritating ring in your ear. “Are you just going to hide under the blanket until I forget about everything?”

“Stop talking….please stop talking!” you pleaded, your voice was quivering and on the verge of tears. You felt like you were at a tipping point, standing on the edge of something already breaking.

The sensory overload from the argument along with the tension was still present, and you desperately needed silence.

There was a long pause and your pulse was thudding in your ears. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he regretted his words just from his silence.

“Do you want me to turn off the lights and go?” His tone quickly switched, a soft caress. You poked your head out of the blanket to look at him.

You felt guilt tugging on your heart after everything that had just happened moments ago. Your husband didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all of this. The least you could do now was end the night on a civil note.

“Turn off the lights but don’t leave me,” you requested. Without wasting a beat, Miguel got out of bed to turn off the lights before he climbed back in to embrace you.

The room was dark but you could still see his silhouette against the Nueva York city skyline from the bedroom window.

“Could you hold me? Please?”

“Of course,” his voice was a soothing balm against your firing nerves. Swallowing thickly, you pushed the blanket away and moved onto his waiting arms as he leaned against the headboard.

You settled onto his lap and you felt his broad arms wrap around you. Your eyes started to leak with your heated tears and before you could stop yourself, you broke into a sob.

“Just breathe, I’m not going anywhere. Take your time,” He muttered against the crown of your head. You rested your head against his chest with his heart thumping softly near your ear.

The throbbing was starting to ease and the relief that followed after came in waves. All that weeks worth of pent up tensity was released in one night through your tears.

With the absence of the lighting along with the silence, it was easier to reach the mellow state that your body was screaming for.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” you rambled, a sense of remorse crashing down on you like a storm.

“It’s okay…I feel like we should talk about some things though,”

“Like what?”

“How we should handle potential fights in our marriage. I don’t really like the way we argue and get at each other's throats so quickly,”

You let his words sink in. The mere thought made your heart ache. The situation would’ve never escalated this far if you hadn't talked to Miguel earlier. Instead you let things boil over.

“It’s my fault…”

“Why do you say that?”

“I kept brushing you off when you wanted to be there for me,” you admitted, a bitter irony taunting your confession.

In retrospect, you’ve witnessed Miguel struggle to open up about his feelings while you were still in the early stages of the relationship.

Even during your marriage, it was a huge step for him to finally be completely emotionally open with you. You’ve noticed how much your relationship has flourished since then and how closer you felt with him.

But now the tables have turned tonight, with you leaving Miguel oblivious to the series of weary emotions you were experiencing. You knew it wasn’t healthy for you or the baby growing inside you to carry such stress alone.

“I noticed the way you were struggling the past few days. I just wish you were more vulnerable with me and not feel like you have to put on a brave face just for my sake,” Miguel explained.

“I dont…I don’t really know where to start,” You tried to rack your brain and coordinate how to express the tension you’ve been feeling the past few days. It was difficult to pinpoint on one thing and string the words together.

“Everything just feels so overwhelming and too much for my brain to handle…even the clock ticking makes me want to rip my head off,” you clutched onto his shirt, a feeble attempt to hold onto your crumbling composure. “I don’t know if it’s the hormones from the pregnancy or a burn out. Or maybe both,”

“I’m leaning towards burn out since you’re showing all the signs, you’re easily irritated and I can see you’re overstimulated from the smell of the cooking to the lighting in the room,”

“Maybe you’re right,” you agreed softly. A lot of issues could be contained just by not saying anything. You seemed to be acutely aware of your own hesitation when it came to voicing your emotions.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share your feelings with Miguel; rather you didn’t know how to and feared the unknown reaction that may follow. You weren’t used to being this vulnerable.

You knew that you would rather hear Miguel share his emotions, even crying on your shoulder, than have him be silent. It was only fair that you took your own advice. Here you were advocating for openness, while grasping onto your own reticence.

“Could you do me a favour?” You asked in the midst of the silence that was shared between you.

“Of course,”

“I understand that you don’t want me to lift a finger especially while I’m pregnant but could you not try to intervene when I’m in the kitchen. I don’t like sitting around and I want to keep myself busy,”

You could sense the hesitance from him as he drew in a shaky breath before he spoke. “…yeah I can do that”

“You already have a lot on your plate,”

“I do, but promise me that you won’t leave me in the dark when you need something from me,”

“I promise.” You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. “I’m glad we’re on the same page Spiderman,”

Even if your view of him was obscured by the darkness in the room, you could still see his lips twitching up from your comment. “Mhmm that’s not an excuse for me to be a neglectful husband to you. So don’t act coy with me,”

“Oh I know. I’m just finding an excuse to be a smartass,” you teased him further by kissing along his jaw. Feeling his body tense from your touch, even if it was subtle, was a huge ego booster.

“Was that supposed to throw me off or something,” you could hear the groan he was trying to hide at the back of his throat as he spoke and it made your stomach flutter.

“Maybe,”

“Uh huh, you definitely did that on purpose,”

“I’ll do it again,”

“And I’ll kiss you right back,”

“Alright bet,” Before he could retaliate, you were bold enough to lap over his lower lip with your tongue. A low moan could be heard from him in response.

It was rare for you to initiate such a confident move like this but there was an undeniable spark and you didn’t want it to go just yet. The bleak mood from earlier was now forgotten and was replaced with arousal.

You pulled away to reposition yourself so you were fully facing him on your lap, your legs on either side of his hips.

His grip on your waist tightened in response drawing you closer to him until your bump was pressing against his torso. “You have no idea what you got yourself into,”

Finally with a longing that built in your stomach, you leaned in until your lips met in a fervent kiss. The weight of your doubts and anxiety was now completely diminished as you felt a magnitude that pulled you into bliss.

You felt him run his tongue over your lips and you parted them slightly in response. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, completely taking over your mouth with a low groan.

As you pulled away, breathless with desire, you couldn’t help but tease, “Too much or not enough?”

To which he responded, “Not even close to enough,”

“Good, then I’ll keep going. You’re not getting the upper hand here,” you were beaming at your own words.

But your confidence was cut short when you noticed his hand reach over and slipped under your pants and past your panties until his fingers were grazing against your folds.

Feeling the air that brushed against your slickness was enough to humble you. You didn’t realise how soaked you were until you felt yourself suction around him greedily as he pushed both his middle and ring finger in.

“You’re saying that now, just wait until I’m inside you,” he was taunting you, completely throwing you off but you would happily let his fingers do all the talking now, even if it was at the expense of your pride.

Your hand immediately reached to grapple onto his biceps to keep yourself steady. If it wasn’t for your restricted mobility from your bump, you would’ve started rolling your hips to ride on his fingers.

But instead you allowed him to do all the work. Your head rested on his shoulder and you moaned into his neck as the pad of his thumb rubbed against the sensitive nerves of your clitoris.

He dragged his fingers out, now wet from your arousal, and slowly ran it over your folds. The first thing you felt after he pulled his hands away from your cunt was his hard on, pressed against you.

You would’ve started grinding against him with how needy you were if he didn’t hold you still. He held you by the side and moved you off his lap so he could remove his pants and boxers before lying down flat on his back.

You didn’t need the light to know that his dick was standing on its end with beads of precum leaking from the tip. You removed your own clothes and felt the cold air slap on your cunt.

“Ven acá amor,” his voice was inviting and you’d be a fool to deny him.

You let him guide you, given his enhanced vision that allowed him to see in the dark. Both hands were on your rear, spreading your cheeks before you felt the tip nudge into your folds.

“Oh God-” you whimpered. You felt yourself stretch to accommodate him, sinking yourself lower until you were balls deep. Your hips flushed against him with your stiff clit pressed against the top of his groin,

“No divinity. Just your husband’s dick inside you,” A wide grin spread across his face. His hands were all over your growing belly, feeling the warmth of you and the occasional kick of the baby.

“Que bonita,” he said in awe. A sense of pride washed over him knowing he was the one who knocked you up, the woman he loved and the mother of his future child. “Muy linda tu barriga,”

You seemed to be more sensitive to his praises especially given the fact that you were getting cock drunk now.

Ever since your bump was starting to show, Miguel never missed the opportunity to praise you. He wanted you to feel proud of your physique and not be hesitant on your changing body.

His hands reached over to hold your waist before he piston his hips up and took control of the pace. You could tell he was holding back from going rough, handling you with extra care.

The feel of him thrusting inside was enough to knock the senses out of you until you were high from bliss. He was making sure you felt every sensation in full capacity, feeling every crevice of his dick being caressed by your silky walls.

His hands reached over to the back of your neck to pull you in until your lips met again. The kiss was disoriented and breathy as he was still trying to maintain his pace.

Each brush of his lips on yours was feeding into your ecstasy. You pulled away and nestled into his neck, taking in his dick so well.

“That’s it, let me make you feel good. Let me make you forget about your problems, amor,” he whispered lovingly in your ear.

“Miguel…” you couldn’t form a proper response, your moans of pleasure drowning out your voice.

He was so good at making feel this way, reaching optimal pleasure from his touches. With the absence of the lighting you allowed yourself to just physically feel everything he was giving you.

His broad head nudging into your cervix.

His soft whispers fanning against your ear.

His hands all over and worshiping you everywhere he could reach.

“God, you’re so easy to please,” You could tell he was reaching his peak. With one final buck from his hip, he dragged his dick to reach the depth of your cunt before he reached his climax.

You felt the contraction of your walls around him as he drenched his balls inside of you. His grip on you loosened and his dick slipped free from your grasp before deflating onto his thighs.

You whined from the sudden withdrawal and the muscles of your walls relaxed. There were still remnants of his cum that was sticking between your thighs but you would deal with that later.

Miguel kissed the top of your forehead before letting out a deep sigh. You both lay together in each other’s embraces, basking in the afterglow with your breaths merging together.

Amidst the tranquil intimacy, your stomach let out an unexpected growl, reminding you that you skipped dinner.

Miguel chuckled softly, “So, have you still lost your appetite?”

You huffed. “Well it’s suddenly back now that I’ve worked it up in other ways,”

Hot take: cooking together in the kitchen is NOT romantic 🙅🏻‍♀️🗣️ move out of my fucking way and let me work

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@emelie-s-h @pretty-pink-princesss @safixiovi

Also reminder that I will be interacting and reblogging fic from my second account @lmaoyouwhore

[enha-doodles]

Heyya I love your works 💗💗 and I was wondering if u u could do Slytherin boys reacting to the reader being a muggleborn 🥹

Classic yk🕺🏻🕺🏻

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING A MUGGLEBORN | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore , Lorenzo , Draco) x muggleborn!reader

Note : tysm bestie 🤪🤪✨ also that is such a classic request !!!

Warnings : mentions of fighting , toxicness in Tom's (I mean?)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Yes , he's got this thing against Muggle-borns, but if it's you, he's willing to put on his big boy pants and overlook it. But don't you dare insult his girl's blood status, or else you'll witness a show even Voldemort himself would be proud of! Picture it: a bunch of Slytherin wannabes start spouting nonsense about you not being worthy of Mattheo because he's the Dark Lord's spawn, and well you're just a stupid mudblood.

That sets Mattheo off like a firecracker! He goes all Hulk mode, smashing and bashing until they're all groveling at his feet. "Stay in your fucking place, you piece of shit, or else you won't live to tell the tale of Voldemort's son representing the Dark Lord himself!" He's a total hotie in fight mode btw

TOM RIDDLE

Now, Tom's got issues. He's got this whole orphanage baggage weighing him down, but deep down, he's just a lovesick puppy because he never received any. Sure, he hates the whole blood status talk, but he loves you more than he hates it. And merlin, does he have a way of showing it! He'll dominate and control like it's his daily job, but common, it's all out of love, right? And if anyone dares to even look at you funny, bam! It's going to be a hex city, and guess whose the population ? them.

But if you try to disobey or disrespect him he won't hesitate to return to his true self , he'd grab your chin harshly and menacingly whisper, "You're just a filthy mudblood, know your place. Here, God isn't your lord. I am."

THEODORE NOTT

hmm, Theodore, the rebel with a cause. He's not like his father , nothing like him at all and he constantly wants to prove it , this is just one of those things that help him show you and others that he's different.He couldn't care less about blood status drama. Nope, if he loves you, he loves ALL of you, flaws and all.

He'd threaten everyone around that you're his girl and if anyone says anything to you or if they try to hurt you then they'd be found dead before they can say sorry . "Get this in your stupid ass head, you dick - you mess with her, you mess with me and remember I don't pull bunnies out of a hat ."

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo's like that curious cat who just can't resist poking his nose into everything. Muggle stuff? Fascinating! Like Theodore he wouldn't mind . He'd actually ask more about how it's there and all the technology intrigues him but he'd still be on about how magic is better . He would support you all the time and try to indulge in stuff to make you feel better .

Would threaten his friends to be mindful of their words around you because you're very dear to him and he wouldn't mind a punch to two if it means you're protected "Hey hey hey , watch it or I won't!"

DRACO MALFOY

Draco, return of the drama queen of Slytherin lmao . He'll start off all high and mighty, spouting hurtful things left, right, and center. But when reality hits and you stop talking to him , he realizes he's messed up, cue the banging at your door , sputtering out apologies and the gifts galore - rich boy lowkey buying his way out but you can't complain because he's got all your favourite stuff .

Draco would kinda joke to lighten the mood "God, I love you, but my father cannot hear about this." Classic Draco, am I right?

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

TAGLIST : @sugarcandydoll @helendeath

[aesthetixhoe]

warnings: fem!reader, dom!matt, sub!reader, subspace, pet names galore, breeding kink, praise kink, self indulgent really... not proofread!

CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT matt who is amazing at aftercare

“fuck angel—” he grunts out from behind you, “feel so fucking good around me.” he has you on your hands and knees, back arched so far your head is basically in the pillow.

“mm matt s’good.” you whimper out, brain unable to produce any thoughts past how good he feels.

“yeah? doin’ so good for me baby.” he feels you clench around him at the praise. “you close, huh? feel you clenching round me.” you whine in response, which isn't good enough. he grabs your neck from the back and lifts your head up out of the pillow, bringing your back to his chest to whisper in your ear. “gonna need words, love.”

the new angle providing just the right amount of pressure to bring you closer to your orgasm. “mhm, yes matt, m’close.” from this position he can reach to kiss your neck and face, and reach his open hand down to your clit, bringing you to the brink even faster.

“go ahead baby, cum f’me, cum all over my cock, pretty girl.” he continues thrusting into you, and with his words, and his hand circling your clit? you're a gonner.

he feels you tighten around him and it almost finishes him. but what delivers the final blow is you turning your head to meet his eyes and uttering a fucked out “i love you, matt.”

“fuck—” he grunts out, cumming inside you. he continues his movements lazier until he looks down at where your cunt is leaking his seed. “oh look at you, my pretty baby, filled up with my cum.” with one final slow thrust he pulls out.

as soon as he pulls out he notices your legs failing, he chuckles to himself before grabbing your legs and placing you to lay on your back. “baby, i'll be right back. i'm gonna go grab a towel to clean you up ok?”

he gets a small ‘humph’ out of you and knows you're still responsive, taking it as a cue to go ahead.

he comes back and sees you've turned onto your side. “hey baby, i gotta clean you up before we can go to bed, ok?” he says separating your legs to clean the activities of the night. “love, you ok?” he checks in noticing you haven't been saying anything.

“mhm.” hum out, still too deep in subspace to respond properly. he grabs some of your clothes from his dresser, occasionally giving you simple instructions to make it easier, and to ground you. “there we go, such a pretty girl.” he speaks, absentmindedly, as he gets into the other side of the bed, and immediately pulls you into him.

“love, are you doin’ ok?” he asks, gauging how grounded you are. after getting a small ‘mm’ he knows you're still out of it. “c’mere baby, need you to sit up to drink somethin’ f’me.” he says, sitting you up enough to drink some water. the water helps you come back some more of the way.

“good?” he surveys, looking at you softly.

“mhm, s’good. cold.” you respond, your eyes still half lipped.

“perfect. good job baby.” he praises you for finishing the bottle of water. he tosses the empty bottle in the trash can, and flicks the light on his bedside table off. he shuffles a little, letting you get into a comfortable position. your head laid on his chest, with your leg draped across his hips. his hand comes up to your thigh to trace shapes lazily to lull both of you to sleep.

“did s’good f’me, angel. always do so well. such a pretty baby.” stings of intelligible praise leaves his lips, making yours curl into a smile.

you look up, eyes locking with his in the darkness, you're fully back at this point, whispering “i love you, matty.”

he cups your cheek with his hand, “i love you too, my pretty girl.” your head falls back down to his chest, the steady thump of his heart with the stroking of your thigh and his arm wrapped around your back leads to the perfect combination for you to doze off.

“g’night matt.” so soft he can barely hear it above the low hum of his ac.

“g’night angel.”

[mochinomnoms]

Cling azul clingy azul clingy azul. Kisses for azulito. Azulito deserves many kisses

BESITOS! MUCHÍSIMOS BESITOS, MUCHÍSIMOS PARA EL AZULITO MI AZULITO AZULITO AZULITO AAAAAAAAAAAAAA BESITOS BESOSBESOSBESO!!!!!!!! EL MERECE MI AMOR, MI CARIÑO, MI TODO LOS BESOS NO SON SUFICIENTE—

*ahem*

If you're like me, and insist on showering Azulito (he begs that you don't call him that in front of others, especially the twins) with kisses and kisses galore, you better commit to it!!

You better let him cling to you as you cuddle and smooch in his large bed, he's exhausted after a long day's work. He needs this, he needs to wrap his arms (just the two never seems enough sometimes) around you as you lay on his chest with his weighted blanked on top of you both.

Complain that it's heavy, but he insists if he's to take you back home that you start becoming accustomed to the pressure of the ocean and his 8 tentacles around you. No, you are legally obligated to spend at least one hour with him every day after 5pm per your relationship contact.

(Note that, it's not an actual contract. He's made very few since Leona destroyed his collection, saving them for emergencies and things of personal importance. He has one waiting for you to sign in the future, glittering gold with the words ENGAGEMENT CONTRACT on the top.)

For now, though, he demands that you let him indulge in your affections, exclusive to him (and maybe Grim). Leave lipstick marks on him, one specifically on his collar, Why are you so surprised? It's so that he can brag about getting such a wonderful, beautiful, enchanting, loving partner. Azul's so surprisingly affectionate in public, an arm wrapped around your waist so that his hand rests on your hip, rubbing any exposed skin there. He's bringing you closer, preening when you place a hand on his chest for stability. That's right, he's YOUR stability in this crazy world. He's delighted that everyone else can mope and stomp around, jealous as you place another kiss on his cheek. All these single-fucks can seethe and cry about how he, the Azul Ashengrotto, can show off his pretty eye-candy of his arm with a self-satisfied smirk.

You're his partner, his beloved, his his his! You, to be frank, had the opportunity to choose celebrities, princes, heirs, future kings. You had the cream of the crop, really. But none of them met your standards, only him! He wins! Ha! Ha ha ha! Now, let's go back to the bedroom, he's in need of your sweet embrace and would like to make out with his partner! HIS!!!

Ha, ha, HA!

[thewriteblrlibrary]

A Step-by-Step Marketing Guide so we can spite traditional publishers (and make people cry).

~ This is a guide specific for fiction/writeblr. All of this is for free and there is little social media posting/ads involved (unless you want to venture into that). ~

Within the writeblr spheres, there's this underlying hope that our stories will find their audience. Perhaps we'll have a fandom full of fanart and video essays, or maybe we'll be an instant classic and sit on collectors' beloved bookshelves. Our stories could sit within the deepest corners of someone's heart and maybe they never tell a soul about what's so special to them. Maybe our stories become those 'underrated masterpieces'.

Or we just want to see people ugly cry over our writing.

Whatever your hope may be, marketing is an important path to venture on (especially because traditional publishers are rejecting diverse books in favor of ones that are already famous + the whole sub-par machine thing they seem obsessed with.)

And thus, my childhood marketing obsession will hopefully be of use to you. This is all for free (unless you want to spend money) and you don't need to figure out social media platforms (unless you want to, and this guide works if you decide to take that route too.)

Step One: Characters

Marketing spheres will define these fictious people as 'avatars' or 'the target audience'. You could also call them characters. Because that's what they are: fictional people.

For this step, you shall create characters that would love your story.

And here's some great news: You've already done this.

Perhaps you wrote your story to comfort a prior version of yourself. Perhaps each character in your story holds an aspect of your personality. Perhaps you were ridiculously self-indulgent and made the story you would've loved to read. These are all possible characters you can reuse for marketing.

Write down 2-4 quick archetypes for these characters. You'll chose an aspect of your story (characters, themes, or the younger-self that you wrote it for) and write a thumbnail sketch. (Main issue, fears, wants, personality traits if they relate to the main issue.)

I'll do it for my story (the Land of the Fallen Fairies) down below:

Anuli-like (my MC): Overthinking and aloof. Wants a happy ending but thinks their current personality/character isn't good enough for one. The present stales in comparison to the past/the childhood they lost. The 'gifted theater kids'. Kamari-like (side character): Postpones happiness in favor of creating a perfect schedule/getting accomplishments. Heavy masking. Creative but doesn't create anymore. Promises themself they'll enjoy themselves later, when they've earned it. Workaholics. My younger self: Wanting a fantasy escapism to embody the traits they wish they had in real life. Dissatisfied and worried about reality. Perfectionists. Self-indulgent: People who love plants and forests and fantasy worlds far away from reality/humanity.

Great! Now it's time to find these characters.

Step Two: Setting.

(Let's assume you're using the internet for your marketing. But a similar method works for real life too.)

Where do the characters live?

In order to figure that out, we need to discover the characters' interests, what they watch to solve their problems, and who they find #relatable.

(You can do this for each character or for all the characters at once.)

For example:

Anuli-like -

interests: Stories. Analysis videos. Fantasy escapism. Things that remind them of their childhood. (so nature, warmth, comfort, play, imagination and the times they would actually enjoy learning.)

Places to look: Nature quotes, ambience videos, children's shows and fairytales (comfort shows). Fandom culture - fanfic video essays, fan art.

Solving problems (the problem being wanting a 'happy ending' but feeling that their personality/lifestyle/characteristics aren't right for one): Mindfulness things. Self-healing. Quotes and meditations and candles galore. Slow living. Nature vlogs. Self care. All that 'live in the moment' culture.

Places to look: Slow living. Nature vlogs. The 'softer self-help' (spirituality stuff. Magic/ overnight answers). Witchcraft. 'aesthetic nature' places. Guided meditations.

#relatable: Burnt out gifted kids. People who think so much that their life passes them by. Storytellers and creative who create to make sense of the world. People who like dark, gory things in spite of who they want to be. People who don't like reality.

Places to look: Those 'learn better and remember everything' places. (The 'burnt-out gifted kid' recovery places.) Stop overthinking spots. Those quotes on Pinterest from poetic people who think too much /aff. Storyteller places. Dark academia. Classical music. One off quotes/ poetry.

Okie dokie. Once you have this, find channels, social media accounts, blogs, songs, books, etc. that fit with the categories you wrote down. (They should appeal to the characters) You can search up some of the terms you listed into searches and see who pops up. Bonus points if you find people that overlap with multiple sections.

I know I didn't include booktube or booktok in here. You can if you want too. But those can be a bit... 'consume these 500 books'. You also want to find other places where people who would like you story live, even if they don't follow booktube or booktok.

Congrats! Now you know where your characters live!

Step Three: the scary part

Take everyone you found on your search for the settings and write them down a list. Make sure you get an email/contact info. (they usually list them somewhere under 'for business inquires') Also feel free to watch their content and get to know what attributes these settings have.

And now... we talk to them. about our stories. You can do it. I believe in you.

This called 'pitching your product' in marketing spheres. But you can be informal about it.

I know it can be difficult to talk about your work, so here's a tone to have:

'I made this thing I like and I think you'll like it too'.

What you'll do is send an email (or dm) that goes like this (inspired by Creative Hive on youtube):

Hi [name],

[Genuine compliment]

[Quick sentence or two about your story. Include the themes and who it appeals to. If you have a logline/sentence summary, include that. But I find that the underlying themes and 'who's it's for' is more engaging.

For my story, I might say something like.

I've written a story you might enjoy, since you like [interest]. It's called the Land of the Fallen Fairies. It's a nature-themed commentary on the pursuit of happiness and fixing yourself to deserve that happiness, told by an overthinking, unreliable, houseplant narrator. It was supposed to comfort me when I got frustrated with myself and my happiness chasing, and I hope it can comfort others too.

(That's probably a bit long and I can trim it down a bit.)

You can phrase it like a gift if you want too.]

[Call to action.

'If you like it, I'd appreciate a mention on your [platform].

I know this part may be difficult to mention (imposter syndrome is not fun.) But I promise that if they do like it, they'll be happy to mention it.]

If they don't respond within... four-ish days? (A week at most). then you can include a follow up. For this you can include a template with info about your story. This way it's easy for them to talk about your story.

The template:

title

genre

blurb

Author

where to find the book

Bonus points if you have an additional, physical thing to send them.

Congrats! Now do this pitching process a few times until you've covered most of your bases. (Pitch to as many people as you can. It will get more comfortable as you do it. Play your favorite song and don't let yourself think too hard about it.)

----------

The benefits of this process are that you find people that are already interested in the themes and vibes of your story (in comparison to to ads, which get shoved in everyone's faces.). Someone your audience already trusts will talk about it, which means you don't need to do all this trial and error to find your audience and make content for them.

It's basically a bunch of people talking about something they like!

AND you diversify your audience across niches, but with an underlying theme/interests. Booktok/booktube must appeal to everyone, so it's a hit or miss for recommendations. (Unless there is someone that specifically does one genre/type of story.)

From here you can do fun little things to build up hype and make the book launch feel like this fun event. (I love it when that happens so here's my thoughts about trying to create an event with your story... although that may require another post entirely.)

preorder goals

charity goals

Arg's and puzzles

fund with side plushies and trinkets

Book blog tour

book boxes

as many memes as you can make

rewards (like bookmarks or posters or smth) that people can get for supporting

Talk about the process of creating your story. I know this one channel called 'Dead Sound' that creates 'making of' videos for his short films and they are some of the best videos on youtube.

Okay dear storyteller! Now go forth and share your story with the world!

Additional resources:

Creative Hive <-- a youtube channel that goes through the pitching process.

This video is also very good <-- Haven't watched the rest of the channel but I assume it's also good.

One of the best marketing channels on the internet (the videos are actually entertianing to watch.

Seth Goldin <-- I read his book and took the parts I liked and modified for storytelling marketing.

Dead Sound <-- propaganda to watch the short film series he has (he did the whole 2-d 3-d style wayyyy before spiderverse did... and he's one person making these. One person. It's amazing.

Glitch <--- If someone can figure out how The Amazing Digital Circus was marketed then I will pay you money. It seems to be a lot of memes and funny things.

[thevirtualvalentine]

— ☁︎ AKATSUKI REACTION TO YOUR ‘AKATSUKI THEMED’ BONNET :

content warnings: fluff, kinky/curly haired!reader, established relationships, crack but written in character(ish), hidan being hidan, dreadhead!tobi, they love you and your natural hair. 🖤

authors note: extremely self indulgent headcannons I’ve been sitting on because I think this would be hilarious.

Inspired by my bonnet:

DEIDARA

Deidara takes exceptionally good care of his hair, it’s something the two of you bonded over together in the hideout. He watches you do your wash days and then lets you slink into his room after to hangout, but today you got a new bonnet.

“Now that is a work of art,” he laughs watching you make your way to the bed. Usually, your bonnets are in one solid color but today… it’s black with red clouds, like his cloak. “Where’d you get a thing like that.”

Obviously, he had to get one himself so that you can match. “Baby, don’t gatekeep,” he begged and pleaded. On the upside, his hair is softer and silkier than ever and you’re beginning to envy his inches of 613 hair.

HIDAN

Hidan, bless his heart, does not understand hair care. When you first started seeing each other he did not know what a bonnet was for. But, once he learned he started buying you ones that he thought were cute. Pink ones, purple ones, ones with ties so you could make a bow.

“I ain’t ever seen no akatsuki bonnet,” he remarks watching you strut around the living room in your new item. “It’s cute bunny, real cute.” He can’t explain it, but this strokes his pride 10 fold seeing you in his paraphernalia. Safe to say this one became his favorite.

He did, however, also have one special made with Lord Jashins symbols too.

ITACHI

Itachi is a kind lover, therefore he does most of your hair care for you. Since being with him, wash day have never been a hassle. Braid outs, wash n go’s, cornrows galore that boy knows what to do.

That’s why when you’ve come to bed tonight you decide to surprise him. “What’d ya think?” You say while scooting closer to your lover under the covers. He’s also freshly showered, skin still damp as he lazily props himself up with an arm.

He toys with the elastic by dragging his finger along the perimeter, his sultry eyelashes batting as he looks you over. “I like it,” And he means it, but he already knows he’s going to get you one with the Uchiha insignia instead.

KONAN

Similarly to Itachi, Konan knows what the fucks going on. Queen of detangles and leave in conditioners, she gets you right and takes pride in being helpful to you. So, you thought you’d pay your girlfriend back with an homage to her organization that seemingly has profound meaning to her.

It’s late and you know she’s a bit stressed as of recent, so as you both get ready for bed in your shared bathroom you put on your new bonnet. She almost chokes on her toothbrush in shock!

“Oh baby I love it! Where did you even get something like that. It suits you so well,” she dotes with toothpaste still on the sides of her mouth. It puts a smile on her face whenever you wear it.

KAKUZU

The truest idgaf-er, says not a lick the day you wear it around him. Honestly he doesn’t know how feels about it, a stupid investment really. That you’d spend, most likely, his money on a such a trivial thing [eyeroll emoji].

Whatever. It’s.. nice. But, don’t expect him to compliment you. “Kakuzu, you haven’t said anything bout my new bonnet,” you pout while trying to curl up next to him like a cat on the sofa.

He pauses trying to find his words, “you look like a walking target.” When he sees the expression of joy fall from your face he knows he messed up. “But it’s a sweet gesture, little one.” He slots his arm on your waist rubbing the expanse of your smooth skin with his rough hand. It makes you heat up a bit. He’s a sweetie when he wants to be.

SASORI

Your boyfriend is annoying, but you happen to like him like that. The times when he is out of Hiruko in the safety of the compound, he likes to touch you even if he can’t feel it. He’s possessive over you, he knows how beautiful you are, your hair being only the crown of your beauty. He’ll curl strands of it around his wooden fingers as you talk — he isn’t the biggest help to maintaining it, wood body and all — more-so an appreciator of the art that is you.

You decide that you’ll annoy him back, buying a bonnet that matches his robe for work. “Are you serious? I wanted to play with your hair but you come in with that,” he pinches the veneer of his nose bridge in an exaggerated sigh. “You’re ridiculous. Come here, now.”

Sasori may act like he doesn’t like it, but it’s clear from the way he smirks as you lounge with him that he is a fan. “Such novelty,” he says while planting kisses on your forehead.

TOBI

Babe, he already had one. “Does that mean you wanted to match with lil ol’ me!!” He jumps around your shared room popping in and out of reality as you chase him around. What started as a coalition of curly heads in the akatsuki has blossomed into a fruitful relationship between you and he.

“Tobi you big jerk! I wanted to surprise you,” he looks utterly ridiculous in a matching robe and bonnet right now. You’re unable to catch him from how hard you’re laughing at him while he taunts you. Once you finally get your hands on the slippery bastard, it’s time for a wash day (together of course).

“How’d you even get this Tobi, I had to get mines special made,” you say as you scrub his scalp of any buildup with your nails. “A magician never reveals his secrets y/n-chan~~” he winks in your direction.

“Shut up or I’m charging you for a retwist.” He was quickly silenced.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part two)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski

+ Some Poly! Farah x Reader x Alex Headcanons

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone. I also have content for TLOU and Resident Evil, so please specify.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! It's me again Lia, currently working on this one while I haven't even posted the other yet because I wanna post early and I love Valeria. Y'all don't got shit on me, I'm writing this shit while I'm in class AHAHAHA. Btw more Resident Evil content soon...

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

Valeria Garza

ꕥ (Just saying, I'd let her step all over me)

ꕥ The El Sinombre falling in love? No shit she's... semi-normal??

ꕥ Black cat/Doberman girlfriend for sure. She's extremely protective and extremely terrifying when she wants to be. Scary dog privilege if you get it. (Occasionally it's funny to imagine her as a Chihuahua)

ꕥ Dates all kinds of women, body type and other things don't matter to her because she doesn't have a type. If you catch her attention then that's that.

ꕥ Loves spoiling you in everyway possible, just sit pretty for her and she'll take care of everything. Doesn't give a shit on the amount of money she spends on you, you want it? You got it.

ꕥ Loves it when you need her, it's one of the ways she feels loved and appreciated. Would never say it out loud but loves it whenever you show her your appreciation by doing manual labor.

ꕥ The idea of you being her pretty little housewife is sending her to heaven.

ꕥ Spanish pet names galore, culture is something of importance to her so will definitely teach you Spanish if she had the time.

ꕥ Would be interested learning about your culture as well because if you're gonna know about hers then she ought to know what to call you in your language. (Definitely not self-indulgent because I'm Filipina and I know she'd pronounce it somewhat correctly)

ꕥ Doesn't ever let you know about her cartel business. You can never know and she will never allow you to get ever get involved. You're too precious to her and god forbid anything will happen to you, she will destroy the world if she had to.

ꕥ She's more of a masc lesbian, she's the type who likes to be in charge in a "I'm the one who wears the pants in the relationship" way. She's very dominant.

ꕥ Doesn't ever even consider to be submissive, with the amount of shit she's been through. She can be vulnerable with you but in no way, shape or form could you ever top.

ꕥ You're an escape from the life she knew, it was peaceful with you. At first she wasn't used to it, definitely has reoccurring thoughts of something going wrong. You dying, getting kidnapped, falling into the hands of her enemies so constant reassurance.

ꕥ Would absolutely kill for you, no hesitation. The literally definitely of "I would burn this world for you", would absolutely deny it but you know otherwise.

Farah Karim

ꕥ Tabby cat coded girlfriend, she's down to earth and chill. She's that one neutral person everyone adores, she puts her best efforts into a relationship for sure.

ꕥ Has and will help you do your make-up all the time, doesn't matter whether you asked. She'll observe the specific way you do it and do it perfectly.

ꕥ Sweetest girlfriend ever, she has dominance tendencies but it's mainly because she's quite assertive and often makes the decisions. Can't help it, after all her field of work requires her to one up egotistic men.

ꕥ That being said, I think she's had some mild PTSD about how they treated her. Sure it made her tough and she didn't like to be bossed around (unlike angry Mexican man) but I like to think she keeps you out of it as much as possible.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader headcanon is that she literally would adore you, compliment anything and everything. Insecure? Not on her watch, she just makes you feel so loved.

ꕥ Most definitely has introduced you to Price (I feel like he's everyone's father figure except los vaqueros and characters he hasn't interacted with) and don't worry he's already looking after you as well.

ꕥ Poly! Farah x reader x Alex headcanons:

ꕥ You guys following whatever Farah says, towards relationship decisions anyway because you and Alex tend to be indecisive.

ꕥ Lot's of communication between the three of you even if it's just a small thing, consent is always key.

ꕥ Alex following his two wives around a lot, he's mostly behind you guys all the time.

ꕥ Farah is patient when it comes to a lot of things but especially you and Alex.

ꕥ You get head pats from both of them, Farah is in a more praising manner while Alex tends to be in a comforting manner.

ꕥ You cannot tell me these two won't be down to cuddle in any position because I know damn well they would be. More often it's just Alex wanting to be a little spoon.

Alex Keller

ꕥ Golden Retriever boyfriend FOR REAL. This man is the type of man to kneel down and clasp the strap of your shoe or heel when he notices it.

ꕥ You know when you pick up something near a corner of a table or underneath it? He's the type of boyfriend to subconsciously cover the edge or corner of that table so that if your head bumps into it then it wouldn't be as painful or even at all.

ꕥ Having said the first one, he also guides your head whenever getting into a vehicle because god forbid you actually hurt yourself. Not on his watch.

ꕥ Understands why you're insecure and definitely offers a lot of verbal reassurance.

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to say "Yes Ma'am" when you ask him to do something, doesn't matter whether it's a small thing or labor intensive. It's kinda become your guys' thing now since people take notice on it.

ꕥ Pouty kind of jealous? Not necessarily whiny but makes this sad upset face at you when jealous instead of something like Ghost or Valeria would do where they'd be glaring the person down jealous.

ꕥ Very thoughtful, he pays attention to what you want and what you need and knows the right timing.

ꕥ Forehead kiss giver, you cannot convince me this man doesn't love doing it. Especially when you're shorter than him, loves resting his chin on top of your head or burying his head in your neck.

ꕥ HATES seeing you uncomfortable, absolutely despises it. That's the last thing he wants you to feel when you're around him. Would understand if there's imminent danger around but it would literally being him back to life if you felt safe enough around him even if there was danger because you're confident in his capabilities to keep you safe.

Kate Laswell

ꕥ (LOVE THIS WOMAN, SHE'S FOR THE GIRLS BECAUSE IT'S CANON. ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

ꕥ She only ever let the TF141 and Nikolai meet you because of course she trusts them enough.

ꕥ They were like "So you're the infamous wife of Laswell huh?"

ꕥ Even before you were married, Kate called you her wife because she was ✨manifesting✨.

ꕥ She loves using it though, sometimes she'd be with coworkers and they'd invited her to go out to pub and drink but she'll refuse saying "Can't, my wife is waiting for me". She'd really rather just spend time with you anyway.

ꕥ Congrats, you made her quit smoking or at least she's trying to. She still does every once and a while when shit gets really bad but never around you because she knows that secondhand smoke is just as bad for you.

ꕥ She doesn't have a type when it comes to people so body is out of the question, if she feels a connection then she feels it.

ꕥ Anything and everything to keep you safe, if something were to happen to you, trust that she'll either get it down herself or if she can't then she'll turn to Price and Belinski for help.

ꕥ As much as possible, she keeps you away from everything. The job she has is just too dangerous and she can't risk you, not when you're one of the only good things in her life that keeps her happy.

ꕥ Definitely a workaholic, something as simple as asking her to eat or rest, maybe take a break. She'll do it, for you and because she knows you care for her.

ꕥ Doesn't half-ass anything, full effort when it comes to you especially when there's a special occasion between you two like holidays, birthdays and anniversaries.

ꕥ Also she loves making you laugh, more often with stories of her experiences with Price and also about how they met.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

ꕥ (I CANNOT FIND A DECENT GIF OF THIS MAN FOR THE LIFE OF ME... Here's the credits to where I found the photo)

ꕥ Get this man a makeshift antenna, he would adore it. You made it for him because of his call sign.

ꕥ He sometimes wears it on missions but mostly keeps it so that it doesn't get damage because this man is definitely a horder, not in a bad way just anything you give to him is something worth keeping in his eyes.

ꕥ Gary definitely gives you handmade gifts back, when he knows you'll like something or even if it's at a random, he loves making them for you and he cried when he found out you kept those all in it's own box labeling it your treasures.

ꕥ Very shy and reluctant at first but once he's comfortable, he is tackling you for a hug when he gets the chance.

ꕥ Doesn't talk a lot, (it took me to Google when I saw that many people hc him communicating through BSL) but I like to think he does talk. It's just really selective, like a few words.

ꕥ The first time you heard his voice, you looked at him like "???". He looked at you confused at your reaction and he only realized it when you told him.

ꕥ Think that he'll try to learn sign language within your mother tongue you know, it's too cute not to think about.

ꕥ He gives off soft lover vibes, definitely far more on the gentle side compared to his comrades.

ꕥ Something in me tells me this man rambles but only and I mean only when he's already extremely comfortable around you, not used to using his voice much so expect a bit of stutter. Which by the way, he does this without knowing he's rambling and will profusely apologize with his tone of voice slowly getting more quiet. (This is your sign, comfort this man)

ꕥ Likes to crawl around and climb things for fun, another one of the reasons his call sign was formed. The first time Ghost genuinely screamed was when Roach was stuck on the side of the wall and Ghost saw him there. Kinda like when you see a roach climbing up a wall and it flies straight for you in your direction. (Happened to me by experience when I was taking a shower)

ꕥ He also likes crawling around, like this I mean. Hacker!Reader seeing this on the enemy's security camera while she tries to shut them off is just funny to me idk why.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? Sign him the fuck up. You once sat down near him and he saw how you thought spread a bit and it was so close to his that he was just resisting the urge to touch. The voice in his head shamelessly thinking of what it would be like if you suffocated him with them.

ꕥ He loves peppering kisses, doesn't matter whether it's receiving or giving this man would straight up take your hands and use them to cup his face, his hands still being over yours and would with wait for you to kiss him or kiss you himself.

Nikolai Belinski

ꕥ (I have no clue how to write for nik but I'll try my best)

ꕥ We all know him and his jokes about his "wives" which by the way is not true and you know it.

ꕥ He's husband material however he is quite busy, not that he'd barely spend time with you but he is away a lot. There's an upside to this, he constantly calls you (Let's be real, he prefers calls over texts) just to check on how you're doing and he tells you when he's going to come home.

ꕥ Despite all his jokes, he'd never actually make fun of you. Sure he's sarcastic and talks to himself a lot but he'd never go as low as actually making an offensive joke to his lover.

ꕥ Speaking of joking, your laugh is music to this man's ears. Don't matter if you sound like a dying cat, he's still gonna make you laugh.

ꕥ Surprisingly really sweet, people are often surprised to see that man with a lover. He's very thoughtful in a sense that he's observant, sure he's quite absentminded when around you because that's the only space he's comfortable enough to do so but also because he likes listening to you.

ꕥ Does every safety measure in a helicopter possible if he knew you or Gaz would be in that helicopter, he also makes improvements to it and calls it Gaz-proofing because we all know how Garrick fell off a damn helicopter TWICE. (Idk how he does it, Gaz has some serious plot armor)

[kisses4lao]

Just read some of your stuff, absolutely BEAUTIFUL I might add. Can you sfw/nsfw headcanons do the Lin Kuei boys with a super social gal? Like she’s all energetic and is HUGE on the PDA? Can she also have big titties? (Totally not self projecting or anything)

Tumblr is still being mean and not letting me edit drafts ugh so this is probably gonna be really bad srry

Tw/cw: afab reader, jealous bi han, toxic bi han? he's his own warning guys, kind of just scenarios and not hcs, still hcs tho I cannot deny you all of that, WRITING THIS AFTER I WROTE EVERYTHING AND I FORGOT THE PDA PART IN BI HANS FORGIVE ME ANON, boobs galore, Kuai being a tit guy, I literally hate this so fucking much

Not proofread fuck you

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

Bi han

Sfw

Wouldn't admit it, but he finds you adorable.

The way you're the complete opposite of him makes his heart melt.

You practically do all the talking in your relationship while Bi Han silently observes and listens.

When you're out together, he mainly stays beside you as you lead him everywhere.

He finds your ability to quickly make friends amazing, considering he was never able to do that(skill issue).

He can't help but smile when he sees you talk so kindly to everyone, whether you know them or not.

He usually wears his mask when you two are together because of this.

You'd most definitely be the person in the relationship to say "excuse me, he asked for no pickles", mainly because he'd refuse to send his food back because a meal is a meal.

Nsfw

Cool, calm, collected. That's what Bi Han likes to describe himself as. But it's much different when it comes to you.

My god, does this man love tight shirts. It doesn't matter what color, what time of the day, if youre wearing one, he's in the mood.

And he hates how much power you have over him.

He hates when you wear tight clothes in public, too. Mainly because it's extremely hard for him to control himself.

He sees how well you get along with others, how people stare at you with nothing but admiration, and he can't help but feel jealous.

More jealous than he'd like to admit.

Bi Han thinks that he should only be the one staring at you, that he's the only person who can give you the love you deserve.

He'd occasionally see other men staring, looking at your curves and the smile that Bi Han loves so dearly.

He hates the amount of jealousy that pulses through him, clenching his fists tightly as he tries his hardest to keep his composure.

When you get home however, he's showing you just how much he loves you, deserves you, needs you.

He can't help his hands from wandering your body, taking in every curve and relishing in just how beautiful you are.

He'd whisper praise as he kisses and nibbles lightly on your neck, cupping your breasts as a gasp escapes your lips.

You could feel the tent in his pants as he began grinding against your inner thighs, desperately calling out your name as he continues.

His breathing is heavy, fanning your neck as his teeth sank into your shoulder.

A surprised yelp escapes your breath as you can now feel his breath hitting your ear.

"Look what you do to me, you'll have to help me with this, you know."

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

Kuai Liang

Sfw

He'd absolutely love seeing you socialize with others.

He'd love the way you can strike up a conversation with anyone and just turn such a bad mood into a light hearted one.

He completely commends your social skills and practically can't go anywhere without you.

Kuai Liang himself would most likely indulge in PDA on his own, so if you initiate, he isn't going to stop you.

He loves holding your hand in public, he loves making people know that he's with you.

He'll also kiss you in public, but not often. Like, at all. He prefers to keep something like that private.

But if you insist, he can't really deny you.

Nsfw

Two words: staring problem.

This man can NOT keep his eyes off you.

Seriously, who decided you can be THAT fine? He genuinely can't stand it.

He's in love with all of your curves, and he LOVES your breasts.

He genuinely can't help wanting to nap on them. Theyre big and soft, can you really blame him?

Kuai Liang would just, touch them. All the time. No warning, he'd walk up to you and just palm them.

Oftentimes, this leads into other things. Kuai is generally just a big fan of titties. Any size, any shape, any color, if you have them, he loves them.

So, he's a professional titty sucker. Willingly.

Kuai genuinely does feel comfort in bringing you pleasure, and if you both get pleasure from doing something, he's all for it.

But if you want to make a night all about him? He's more than excited.

He'd absolutely have you tit fuck him.

He kind of doesn't even get pleasure from the actual feeling, he mainly gets off to how you look during it.

If he was going to be completely honest, seeing you topless and pressing your breasts around his cock is so much more pleasurable than most things.

He'd be a complete mess while watching you, he'd grip the sheets in his hands tightly as he watches his cock disappear and come back through your breasts.

He whimpers as you begin to place kitten licks on his tip, hissing as his grip on the sheets tighten.

Seeing you like this never fails to turn him on quickly, anything that involves you turns him on, but that's not something he'd admit.

"Y/n- please,, let me cum already~"

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

Tomas

Sfw

Oh my god.

This man would be OBSESSED with you.

You're pretty AND social? He might as well propose immediately.

He's constantly around you, literally never leaving you alone, especially not in public.

If Tomas has to go into a public setting and he can't bring you, he isn't coming.

To him, you're like an emotional support person. You're usually the person who starts conversations for him, and he genuinely doesn't know what he'd do without you.

He loves how kind and naturally nurturing you are, the smiles he sees on other peoples faces simply because of you is something that has made him more happy than he's willing to admit.

Nsfw

STARING PROBLEM but worse.

Tomas is genuinely insufferable when it comes to your body.

Since he practically worships the ground you walk on, he worships your body even more.

If you were to ask him for literally anything, no matter what it is, he'd do it for you, but he has weaknesses.

If you were to ask him for something while batting your eyelashes, he'd simply stop working.

Because of this, sex with him usually results in him being a bottom.

Yeah, I know, it's practically cliche at this point to make Tomas a bottom, but have you SEEN him?

That man is on his knees day and night trying to please you.

He'd usually have you ride him as one hand would be on your waist while the other is firmly holding one of your breasts.

Sometimes he gets too in the moment and holds both of them, but can you really blame him?

Hes entranced to say the least. They're big, soft, warm, how could he not want to hold them constantly?

Even just touching them is enough to get him off.

His head would be thrown back is pleasure as his grip on you tightens, moaning out your name as he bucks his hips upward.

"Shit- hah,, y/n~ I'm so- ngh, close~"

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

Might disappear and never post again wouldn't that be fucking funny

[antiquarianfics]

Slow Down

An object in motion stays in motion until acted upon by an outside force. In this case, you’re the object and Bucky is the outside force.

a/n: i’ve been so busy, so this is self indulgent. i work full time, am student teaching, and have my own classes. what’s a moment to breathe?

warnings: none! just your run of the mill unproofed comfort fic.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

It had been a busy few months. You had been sent on mission after mission, had to fill out paperwork galore, had to attend a government gala on behalf of the Avengers, and had to fit training in when you weren’t doing all that. So, yeah. Busy.

You’re tired. So tired. It’s the kind of tired that you start to get comfortable with. It seeps into your bones, enters your blood stream, and enters your lungs like oxygen. It becomes apart of you, and you become accustomed to the exhaustion, become able to operate on 4, 5 hours of sleep.

You’re so tired because you’re going so fast, doing so much. You aren’t even aware of how your relationships begin to suffer, how your health begins to suffer. In fact, you don’t even slow down enough to get your bearings until someone stops you.

“Woah, hey, slow down!” Bucky exclaims, his left hand reaching out to grab your bicep.

You skid to a stop, a few steps past Bucky. You turn around a little frazzled.

“Oh, hey, babe! Almost didn’t see you!” You quickly lean up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do have to go, though. I’ve gotta get a workout in before that press conference Fury organized.”

Bucky lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you close and trapping you in his arms.

“Doll, when was the last time you just took a second to breathe?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Bucky says a little indignantly, “you’ve been busy—really busy. You’re barely sleeping and I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down to eat anything in weeks. I miss you, and I’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out.”

You stare into his face, taking in the worry etched in his brow, the concern in his eyes, and the downturn of his lips.

Then, you take a moment to consider his words. You know you’ve been busy, but have you really not been sleeping? Eating? In fact, when was the last time you really sat down next to Bucky outside of a quinjet? You’re not sure, and when you realize as much, it’s like the glass wall breaks. You feel the exhaustion that had seeped into your bones, your blood, your breath. You feel yourself sag, falling into your boyfriend’s arms.

You let out a deep breath as a few stray tears begin to fall from your eyes. You don’t know what to say, but you know Bucky is right. You’re tired, running on fumes, and now that you’ve acknowledged it, you feel it.

“I’m so tired, Buck,” you admit as he pulls you close against his chest, arms wrapping around you protectively.

“I know, Doll. I know. You’re allowed to rest. You deserve to rest. You don’t have to do everything for everyone all the time,” he assures.

“How about I tell Fury we won’t be at the press conference? There’ll be enough Avengers there; they won’t miss us. And we can watch a movie and order a pizza.”

You nod.

“Yeah, ok. That sounds nice.”

So, you do just that. Bucky cancels your appointments and orders food. He takes you back to your room, lets you shower, gets some warm pajamas for you to change into, queues up the movie, and finally cuddles up next to you on your bed. The two of you just sit together, enjoying each other’s company, making comments about the movie and sharing anecdotes with one another for as long as you feel like. Finally, towards the end of the movie, you feel your eyelids begin to get heavy.

“Bucky?” You call tiredly.

Bucky hums in response, letting his fingers play gently with your hair.

“Thank you.”

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

ko-fi

[soullumii]

masked up | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: joel fucks you while wearing his gas mask

warnings/tags: 18+ content MDNI, very self indulgent smut (unprotected piv oops, mask kink 🤭, vaginal fingering, riding joel cowgirl because that is for sure his fav position, little bit of a bulge kink, oral [m receiving]) descriptions of blood and violence, established relationship (married!! whoop whoop!!), making joel call you “my wife” because i’m weak for that shit, soft!joel, protective!joel, this got sappy, pet names galore as usual, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i can’t explain how i feel about joel wearing a gas mask. i swear every time he put it on while i was playing tlou pt 1 i moaned /hj. just HEAR ME OUT PLEEK. JUST WATCH THIS (it’s a tiktok edit) OK YOULL UNDERSTAND.

You don’t mean for the mask to become a thing.

But it does. It becomes a Thing™.

It all starts and ends with Joel, like good and bad things usually do. And this thing is no exception.

But it all begins with something bad.

Coming across spores nowadays is few and far between for you. You're not usually on patrol much, your job being to tend to the crops in the greenhouse and feed the livestock. 

Today, though, you’re not so lucky. With Tommy out sick, you’re filling in for him. Thankfully, though, you’re paired with Joel, your very lovely and very experienced in the art of dealing with infected, husband. So you know if you come across spores, your husband will have your back. 

Spores are annoying, but they're manageable with gas masks. When you and Joel enter an abandoned office building on a new patrol route and you catch sight of the little specks floating through the air, you immediately put yours on, Joel doing just the same. 

The floaty fungal fuckers themselves aren't scary, especially not when you have the gas masks to keep you safe. It's just what waits in the shadows that scares you, because where there are spores, there's infected. Lots of them. 

And usually interspersed in that conglomerate of stalkers and clickers are the big, meaty ones. The kind that have been sitting and festering for years. The kind that could literally rip you into pieces, regardless if you have a gas mask on or not. Bloaters, yeah, those big shits. The fucking bane of your existence.

Unfortunately, the one lazing around in this abandoned office building must somehow pick up on your undying hate for them because within minutes of you and Joel looting the place for all it’s worth, it comes clambering out of what used to be a conference room.

It's a big one. Noticeably disgusting, outrageously hideous, growling and slobbering as it slings mycotoxin at you. It's not very fast, and yet it's so fucking terrifying as it lumbers after you, because you know exactly what it’s capable of. 

You're shooting at it with whatever arrows you have left in your backpack (though they’re mostly just bouncing off it’s thick fungal exterior), and Joel's crunching out shot after shot with his shotgun, but neither of you are hardly making a dent.

God, you wish Joel had brought the flamethrower he keeps in his storage room. You’d make a Molotov cocktail, but with the other infected hot on your heels, there's no time. 

A stalker comes crawling out of the shadows behind you, knocking over an office chair in the process, and you whip around to lodge an arrow right between its eyes. Two more come swinging out of nowhere, and you're so focused on trying to get rid of them so that they can't reach you—can't reach Joel—that you don't realize you've left your back unattended until a large, gross excuse for a hand lands hard on your shoulder, lugging you backwards with inhuman strength. 

Joel shouts your name with increased panic, and you hear his gun fire off more rounds into the bloater's back, but it doesn't care, it's hands finding your head and jaw, gripping you so tight you think it might shatter your mandible.

"Joel!" You scream, eyes squeezing shut as the pain in your jaw multiplies.

This motherfucker is about to rip you clean in half—

You think this is it, I'm about to die in front of my husband by being torn from the jaw down, but, thankfully, death never comes. Instead, the bloater releases you with a pained roar as the sound of squelching fills your ears. You manage to back away enough to watch Joel tug the bloater off of you by the handle of his machete, the blade lodged in its chest. 

He pulls the machete out only to swing it down in an arc straight into its head, repeatedly. Blood splatters all over him as he bludgeons the wretched thing. Over his veiny arms, his black mask. It sinks into the fabric of his flannel.

And funnily enough, this is when it becomes a thing.

The bloater crumples to the floor with a gurgling groan as it finally dies, and Joel turns to you, chest heaving and eyes wide and panicked. They soften, relieved when he catches sight of you physically intact, though, mentally a bit checked out.

Whether that’s because you’re in shock or because your brain is rewiring as it files this new image of Joel away, who knows? Maybe it's a little bit of both. 

“Are you okay?" Joel asks, sheathing his machete to look you over. His hands catch your jaw gently, a welcome contrast to the bloater. He turns it this way and that, checking for any damage or possible bites.

A traitorous thrumming starts up between your thighs as he stares you down through the lenses of his mask. 

"I'm fine, Joel," you say, breathlessly. "Thanks."

“Thank god,” he squeezes your arm lovingly, grateful to see you in one piece. “Let’s get outta here.”

- - -

"Do you like the masks?" You ask him eventually, when you're back outside, the setting sun warming you pleasantly as the tall borders of Jackson rise in the distance.

You both took the masks off the minute you escaped the spores, but a part of you secretly hoped Joel would keep his on.

Joel scratches at his graying beard. "They keep us safe. Don't feel much for 'em at all really." He glances sidelong at you, a curious quirk to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug, "No reason."

Just trying to figure out if you'd wear it during sex if I asked you to, that's all.

“Alright, somethin's up," Joel says. "You've got the look.” 

“What look?” 

“The sex look.” 

You halt in your hike, turning to narrow your eyes at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Joel fails to stifle a chuckle. “You’re horny. That’s the face you make when you want to have sex. Like you wanna eat me alive.” 

Shit. He’s found you out.

“How would you know?”

He blinks. “Honey, I’m married to ya. Of course I’m gonna know.”

Valid. Still-

"I’m not horny," you try to defend, though you've never been good at lying, and based on the self satisfied smile Joel wears, you know he sees right through you. "We almost died, Joel. Maybe this is my 'loving every minute of my life' look."

"I know that look. This ain't it."

Jesus Christ.

You sigh heavily. “Okay, yes. Maybe I am a little horny.” 

"Because…what? We almost died? That gets you goin'?" 

"No," you grit. You can’t even look at him when you say it. “It’s the mask.”

His brows knit. “The...gas mask?”

You nod tightly. 

“I don’t think I’m followin’,” Joel says. 

Is he seriously asking you to spell it out for him?

You take a deep, steadying breath. You don’t quite know how to phrase this, so you just go for it. “Watching you save my life in the gas mask just sort of woke something up in me. It was hot.” 

“Oh.”

Yup. He definitely thinks you’re crazy.

“So, what, you want me to fuck you while wearin' the mask or somethin’?”

Heat pools heavy and thick between your thighs at his words, your heart hammering behind your ribs. “Something like that, yeah.” 

Joel straightens. “...Okay. I can do that.” 

Your head whips up. “Wait, seriously?”

“You’re my wife. If you asked me to fuck you with a damn jester’s hat on I’d do it.” 

You laugh. “Okay, let’s not go that far.”

“I’d really do it for you.”

“It sounds like you actually want to wear it.”

He chuckles, and you two resume walking back to Jackson. “Alright, so, gas mask on tonight,” he says. “Any other requests?” 

“Since you’re asking…maybe you could wear a cowboy hat sometime…”

- - -

"Jesus, you're really lovin' this," Joel muses.

You're laid out beneath him in your shared bed, his long calloused fingers deep in your cunt, his thumb circling slowly over your clit, drawing out your pleasure, stretching it like taffy. Your jeans are still on, unbuttoned and unzipped, and your soiled underwear is pulled to the side as Joel’s hands unwind you. 

You're grasping onto his muscled forearm for dear life, moans leaking out of you in a steady stream as he fucks his fingers into you, curling up to stroke that spot that has you clenching down hard on his digits as the burning starts in your toes, climbing up your thighs. 

He looks so fucking good with that mask situated over his handsome face, his peppered hair flipping out over the straps that keep it snug on him. His eyes are dark through the lenses as they watch you unravel before him, almost black from how dilated his pupils are.

His jeans are still on, his erection straining hard against his zipper. The flannel he wore earlier is gone, giving you the perfect view of his toned chest and the dark hair that dusts it. There's still some blood stains on his mask. Every time you catch sight of them, your body ignites with something carnal and hungry.

"’Cause, you look hot," you huff between moans. 

Joel laughs, deep and rumbling, and the mask warbles it a bit, adding a distortion to his voice that for some reason makes everything happening so much hotter. “I still don’t really get it, but if it’s makin’ you this wet, I don’t care.”

You moan particularly loud at the sound of his voice muffled through the mask and cant your hips against his hand, the combination of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers fucking up into you has you dangling dangerously close to the edge.

“I-I’m close, Joel.”

His brows furrow behind his mask, and he quirks his fingers inside you even more, and you jolt against his hand. 

“C’mon then, baby. Come for me. Show me how much this pretty pussy loves this mask.”

Fucking shit. When you first met Joel, he hardly spoke a single word, and even when you got him to open up more, he was thoughtful with what he said, chose his words carefully. Unless he was angry, then he could be a bit of an ass.

In bed though? Shit, if you can get him to shut up it’s a damn miracle.

“F-fuck, Joel,” you whine, legs stiffening as your orgasm swells inside you, a match striking, lighting up your viscera as pleasure fast-releases inside your veins. 

“There you go baby, that’s it,” Joel purrs. “So pretty when you come.”

You inhale shakily as the last few shocks fizzle through you, your clit throbbing as you come down from your high.

“Fuck…” you huff, trying to catch your breath.

He strokes your thigh lovingly, and if you could see him behind the mask you’d assume he’s probably wearing that soft smile that he gets sometimes that melts you into a puddle of mushy gushy feelings.

Joel leans back on his knees. “Now it’s time to deliver on that promise,” he says, and your skin tingles at the sound of his zipper. 

“Wait,” you tell him, and he stops, looking at you in concern.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No I just…I wanna show you how much this means to me.”

“Me wearin’ this mask? It’s not a big deal-“

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, pushing him down until his back hits the mattress, effectively shutting him up.

You swing your leg over him, situating yourself right on his lap and peel off your tank, delighting in the way his eyes widen and his hands come down to settle warmly on your thighs. 

The muscles in his arms shift as he squeezes your flesh. The drag of the crotch of his jeans against yours has you biting your lip, a zing of pleasure shooting through you.

Joel’s eyes have darkened behind his mask, his pupils swallowing his irises whole besides the thin circle of hazel remaining at the edges as he watches you.

“I’ve never hated jeans more than I do right now,” he says lowly, his gaze dropping to the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

His strong hands slide up from your thighs to your hips to your waist, his dry, calloused skin causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. Finally, his palms cup your breasts, unrestrained by a bra because they’re too hard to come by in this day and age. 

He squeezes gently, and your nipples tighten beneath his palms. And then he rolls one between his thumb and forefinger, and your back arches, pressing you further into him. Your hips grind down automatically, and Joel releases a hazy moan. 

“Maybe,” you gasp when you roll your hips again, reveling in the delicious friction against your clit. “You should take them off.”

“Yours first.”

You don’t press him on it. You want your jeans off. So you lift yourself off of him and the bed to tug at your zipper, and Joel watches raptly as you pull your skinny jeans down your thighs, kicking them off your ankles.

And then you’re only in your underwear, and you throw your legs astride him again, the cloth of your underwear catching deliciously on the tent in his jeans. Joel’s hands find your body immediately, like a sweet tooth to a chocolate bar. His fingers dig into your flesh, and he grips your thighs, pulling them apart to set you on him fully. A shudder wracks your spine at the feeling of him pressed against your throbbing core.

“Goddamn,” he growls, eyes roving over you hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You grind down on the hard outline of his cock, and Joel can’t help his reflexive thrust into you, and you sigh. 

“I need you in me, Joel,” you whisper, leaning forward to plant your hands on his broad chest, your fingers messing with the hair dusting his sternum. “Need your cock filling me up.”

“Christ,” he swears, eyes falling shut as he bucks again. “Need’a be in you, sweetheart.”

His hands find your hips and then your ass, squeezing the muscle cultivated there from twenty years of surviving in an apocalyptic world. 

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties, warm and confident. He lightly rakes his fingernails over your skin, running his calloused fingertips reverently over the stretch marks on your hips. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers through the mask. “Wish I could kiss you.” 

You shiver and your arms loop around his neck. His back is scarred beneath your hands, and you rub gently into the muscle of his traps, causing Joel to release a groan. 

His hand gravitates from your hips to the apex of your thighs, and your breath catches in your throat at the warmth radiating from his fingers when he positions them just below where you want him most.

He circles your clit again, smooth pleasure seeping through your nerve endings and your head falls back in a relaxed moan. You grind against the hard outline of his cock and the pads of his fingers against your clit, each slow drag of your hips causing pleasure to fizzle through you, like a flavored tab in a glass of water.

Your hands travel down his chest and stomach, outlining the thick, jagged scar there. Over his dark happy trail that starts just above his belly button and leads down to what your body is desperately craving. A little treasure map. 

You deftly undo the button and zipper and Joel makes a wrecked noise in the back of his throat when your hand brushes the hard outline of him through his briefs. 

“Wanna show you how much I like you in the mask,” you purr as you palm him. “How hot it gets me.” 

“Fuck,” his head falls back when you tug him out of his briefs, stroking his thick length to full mast. “Please, baby.”

You inch yourself down his legs so that you’re face to face with his weeping cock. Joel’s eyes widen and his hand comes up to gently stroke your hair appreciatively, tucking a lock of it behind your ear. He looks at you with adoration, and your heart swells in your chest.

“I love you, y’know that?” He says, softly. 

You can’t help but get a bit misty-eyed, always a fan of Joel when he gets soft like this. “I love you, too.” 

He smiles, and glances down at his dick, maneuvering it so that the head skates across your lips, leaving a trail of precum. His heated eyes find yours again. “Go on and show me then.”

“Yes sir.”

You keep eye contact as you lean forward to give his cock little kitten licks, and his head drops against the pillow with a groan, eyes lidded. “Shit, you can’t be lookin’ at me like that.”

You just smirk, and lick a long stripe up a prominent vein and kiss the tip of his cock sweetly before slowly taking him into your mouth. You take in as much as you can (which isn’t much, he’s pretty fucking big), and your hands find whatever you can’t fit.

You start sucking him in earnest, pressing the flat of your tongue against the ridge of his cock, delighting in the way the hand that had softly petted your hair before is now gripping it tight when you tongue that sensitive spot that always gets him reeling.

“That’s it, honey,” he groans, his hips twitching with tiny little thrusts as he tries to hold himself back. “Just like that.”

You moan against his cock, which has him bucking up reflexively, shoving his dick further into your warm mouth. Your throat spasms around the head of his cock when it hits the back of it, gagging lightly and tears forming at the edges of your eyes.

“Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he says, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumb.

You shake your head slightly in reassurance, moaning around his cock again, and he releases a heavy breath, eyes fluttering shut once more as you continue to suck and bob and lick, effectively ruining him.

“Okay, okay, baby,” he says after a little while, lightly tugging on your hair to try and get you to stop. “I’m gonna come if you keep doin’ that.” 

You release his cock with an audible pop and send him a pout, “But that’s the whole point.” 

He chuckles a bit, sliding the mask off for a second so he can pull you up to kiss you softly, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You moan gratefully into his mouth when he tilts his head to deepen it, opening up greedily. As attractive as you find the mask, you certainly do miss being able to kiss him. You sigh happily when he pulls back to mouth at your jaw and throat, sucking and nipping his way down. 

“I wanna be in you when I come,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough and gruff and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of it. “How’s that sound?”

You moan softly when he bites down on your throat, his beard and mustache tickling your skin. “Sounds…sounds good.”

He gives you another kiss before tugging his mask back down over his head, and your skin ignites, pussy fluttering.

Joel laughs. “I can literally see the cogs in your brain turnin’ when I put this on. You really do like it, huh?”

You shrug with a guilty smile. “The heart wants what it wants.”

And what it wants is him. Real bad.

So you drift a hand down to pull your panties to the side and shift your hips to position yourself over him, the head of his cock catching on your entrance. You sink slowly down, his length filling you.

The two of you moan in tandem.

“There we go,” he sighs.

“Mm, so big, Joel…” you whimper, and his dick jumps inside you.

You both just hang there for a moment, suspended in time as you get used to the feeling of each other. You’ve done this so many times, know each others bodies inside and out, yet it’s still a brand new experience every time.

You always have to adjust to his thickness. 

You break the spell with an experimental roll of your hips, and Joel’s hands clamp down on your hips with a vice grip.

“Christ—“ he swears. “You’re so good, so good for me.”

He’s filling you so fully, so deeply right now, you’re practically speared on him, and each roll of your hips has your clit brushing against his pelvic bone, amplifying that white hot pressure building inside you. 

When you and Joel first started getting intimate together, he was quiet in the bedroom. Probably a bit nervous around you—he was the one that fell first, after all.

But now after years together, he lets it all out.

Grunts and moans leak out of his gritted teeth as you fuck yourself on top of him. He’s dousing you in praises, telling you what a good girl you are. How perfect you are. How lucky he is to call you his wife. 

It’s all so very adorable and very sexy and you just love him so fucking much. 

Joel plants his feet down behind you, just to get some leverage so he can thrust his hips up into you at a steady pace. Your hands find purchase on his chest, keeping you upright while he fucks you.

His large palm slides around the front of your stomach, pressing down, and you can feel the way his cock moves inside you as he does it.

“You see that, baby?” 

You haven’t really looked down, so focused on the way he looks in the mask, how his breaths are coming out heavier and rougher through it. The way he sounds wrecked. But now that he’s asking, you do. 

You look down, only to see a slight bulge in your stomach with each thrust of his hips. 

A pleasant shudder runs through you. “Oh fuck.”

“Love seein’ the way I fuck you,” he rasps.

You watch his cock disappear and reappear with a slack jaw, eyes glazed as his hands stray to your thighs, squeezing and kneading the flesh.

You’re losing strength in your arms, your nails scraping through his chest hair as you try and remain upright, but the effort of matching his thrusts with your own along with the steady ecstasy filling your marrow is enough to have you collapsing against his chest, boneless.

And now Joel can really take the reins. His big hands grip your ass, holding you still as he pounds into you, your cheek smushing against his pecs with each heavy thrust, your clit rubbing against his sweat-slicked skin.

“F-fuck, Joel. Oh my god—“

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts. “Atta girl.” 

Within moments you’re already there, eyes squeezing shut, brows pulled together in ecstasy as your climax crashes over you in rolling waves. It ebbs and flows within you as you listen to the heated pants modulating through Joel’s mask, watching his eyes gloss over as he chases his own release. 

It’s so fucking good. So right. Your husband never fails to give you exactly what you want.

His thrusts grow sloppier as he follows soon behind you, the fluttering walls of your cunt pulling him over faster.

“I’m comin’,” he grits. And then he’s grinding his cock into your pussy, holding you still against him as he paints your insides with thick ropes of cum, releasing a long, drawn out, wrecked moan of your name.

You lay pliant on his chest, practically drooling on him as you both come down and his cock softens inside you, slick and cum running down the inside of your thighs. His heart pounds under your ear, a steady reminder that he’s alive and here and that you, thank fuck, didn’t die earlier today.

“Thanks,” you mumble against his perspirant skin.

He tugs the mask off, his hair sticking to his sweaty temple. “‘Course, darlin’. Though as hot as that was, I dunno about having sex wearin’ that again. I think I was startin’ to get light headed from the lack of air.”

You giggle, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I liked it. But now anytime we have to wear them again I’m just gonna be thinkin’ about this. Gonna get a damn hard-on when I’m on patrol.”

You smirk, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He opens up beneath you immediately, moaning softly into your mouth. 

“Maybe that was my goal all along,” you mumble, smiling into the kiss.

He pulls back with a quirked brow and crooked grin. “You are into some sick kinds of torture.”

“I mean, if it gets you coming home to me quicker…”

“Oh I’ll be comin’, alright.”

Your face scrunches. “God, you’re sick. Why did I even marry you?”

His eyes melt, one hand squeezing your ass cheek, the other stroking your jaw. “Because you love me.”

That causes tears to well in your eyes again, because despite everything, despite all the fucked up things about this world, you do love him. You’re capable of loving him. And you’re grateful that, even with the terrible way life has treated him, he’s capable of loving you too.

“Yeah, I do,” you say.

He kisses you again, sweet and passionate and filled with all the things he never knows how to say. “I love you, too.”

[tasteleeknow]

FINDING YOUR INNER CHILD WITH SKZ

GENRE: fluff. fondness and affection galore. very self indulgent and comforting. WORD COUNT: 4.5k (500 each)

a/n: a little celebration of hitting 3k before the end of the year! i’m so grateful to everyone that reads my work, interacts with me and encourages me to keep trying. writing is really therapeutic to me and hearing other people can find comfort in my work makes me feel really warm. thank you!

CHAN — CLIMBING TREES

“Keeping going!” he calls out to you from below. He watches you as you wrap your arms around a thicker branch and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“I can’t, I’ll fall!” you shout back. 

You took early morning walks together often, whenever he’d had trouble sleeping and pulled an accidental all-nighter. You said it’d help wear him out a little, tucking him into bed when you got home with a kiss to his forehead. The tree climbing? This was new. You’d made an offhand comment about how nice it would be able to fly up over the treeline and see the sunset. He’d suggested climbing a tree and you’d scoffed like it was completely ridiculous. He’d quickly discovered you’d never even attempted it, not even as a child. 

“You won’t fall,” he encourages. “I’ll catch you if you do.” 

“Catch me?” you question, peeking an eye open. 

“Mm, I got you.” 

Your other eye opens and you look down at him, koala gripping to the branch. “Promise?” 

He smiles. “Yeah, baby. I promise.” 

He watches as you look up the tree then to your arms, an adorable look of determination crossing your face. Then you’re moving, pulling yourself up the thick branches as he moves around below you—making sure he’s under you the entire time. The first time you had shown you trusted him was months into your relationship. He knew it was difficult for you to trust someone completely. That’s why when you’d opened up to him about your lack of previous dating experience and how comfortable he made you, he’d written the moment down—making sure he’d remember it. 

“I can see it!” you shout suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “It’s so pretty! The sky is orange and pink!” He can just make out your face through the branches, your eyes bright with excitement. He smiles fondly, warmth blooming in his chest. 

“Yeah? Was it worth the climb?” 

“Come see!” you call. “You have to see it!” 

“Just get a good look for me, yeah? Describe it to me when you come down.” 

You pull your eyes from the sky, looking down at him again. “Come up, please?” 

“I promised I’d catch you. I can’t do that if I come up.” 

You’re quiet for a moment before pulling your hands from the branch you’re leaning against. Anxiety slams into his chest. “Hey! Don’t let go!” he calls. 

You make the shape of a camera with your fingers, pointing it out over the horizon and pretending to take a photo. Then you grip the branch again, beginning your slow descent. “Just taking a photo for you,” you say as you climb. 

When you reach the last branch he holds his arms open. “Jump,” he encourages. You don’t hesitate, trusting him to catch you.

MINHO — CAMPING

He’d insisted on spending his break over Christmas camping. He’d been fixated on the idea since you’d mentioned you’d never gone camping before. “Ever?!” he’d exclaimed, totally taken aback by your offhand comment. You’d laughed, pinching his cheeks between your fingers at his dramatic reaction. 

Now, here you are, your nose freezing off as you shuffle your camping chair as close to the fire as possible. It was completely ridiculous to be camping in this weather but your boyfriend had been so excited for so long, you couldn’t turn him down. He’d been rushing around the apartment all day yesterday, organising everything you’d need like you were planning a week away and not a weekend. 

He shuffles his chair closer to yours, reaching over to take your gloved hand in his. “You warm enough?” he asks, glasses falling down his nose a little. 

You reach over to push them up his nose, then pull his hat down his head a little more. “Mm,” you lie. “Are you?” 

He nods, taking your hand in his again and staring back into the fire. You smile as his eyes glaze over, zoning out again. You could handle a little cold. He’d put up with much more for your sake. It had taken months for you to open up to him, to let him in. He’d stuck around the whole time, patiently waiting for you to make the first move. Everyone around you kept reminding you of his feelings. It’s obvious, they’d say. You weren’t ready, you’d answer back. They didn’t understand the silent agreement between you. No one understood you like he did. You’d never forget his smile when you’d pulled him aside and asked him if he’d like to get dinner with you. “Finally,” he’d breathed.

The next time he snaps out of whatever he’s thinking about and checks in on you, you’re visibly shivering. He stands quickly, pushing his chair aside so he can kneel beside you. “Why didn’t you say you were cold?” he scolds, reaching up to cup your cheek in his gloved hand. 

“‘M not that cold,” you answer, unconvincingly. 

He frowns, standing and pulling you up with him. He practically shoves you into the tent. It was very different to how you imagined camping. He’d picked a place with large permanent tents, equipped with beds and electricity. Still, they weren’t much warmer than outside. Minho moves to the bed to plug in the electric heating pad and then darts back over to you. You stand still as he pulls your gloves from your fingers and then your hat. He struggles with the zip on your jacket in his rush to help you change. You’re quiet, shivering as he works. Just as he’s getting ready to personally pull your pyjamas over your head, you grab his arm. 

“I can do it.” 

He hesitates then hands you the flannel shirt before disappearing back outside. You listen to him shuffling around, packing things up and putting out the fire as you pull your pyjamas on quickly and shove your biggest sweater over your head. You dig out a pair of fluffy socks and pull them as far up your legs as you can as Minho re-enters the tent. 

“You should’ve said you were cold,” he grumbles again as he moves around you, shoving his hand under the blanket to check the heating pad before pulling his own clothes off. You climb into the bed, sighing a little at the warmth seeping into you from the warm mat beneath you. 

When your boyfriend joins you, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. When you shiver again he drapes a leg over you, practically smothering you with his body. You chuckle, pulling his arm up to your face and burying your face in the soft fabric of his sweater. 

“Were you planning on freezing to death, hm? What did I ever do to you?” he mumbles. 

“You broke my favourite mug.” 

You imagine him rolling his eyes. “So you were going to freeze yourself in protest? Leave me all alone?” 

You snuggle back into him, his hard body cushioned by layers of fabric. “I’m warm now.” 

“Promise?” he asks, warm breath tickling your neck. 

“Mm,” you sigh. “I like this part of camping.”

CHANGBIN — HAIR BRUSHING

It starts with his hand simply resting on your shoulder. You were curled up on the couch, your head resting in his lap. You’d been struggling to sleep recently and he’d insisted on putting a movie on and staying up with you. You’d considered faking it, pretending to doze off so you could convince him to go to bed. He couldn’t afford to lose any sleep. But you were incredibly selfish, enjoying his comforting touch too much to give it up. 

You hum when his fingers move up to your head, brushing your hair away from your face gently and then playing with the strands at your temple. You imagine this is something like what your cat feels when he’s purring in your lap. His gentle fingers pause after a few minutes and you reach up to snatch his wrist as he pulls away. “Don’t stop,” you whisper. “Please.” 

He chuckles, fingers returning to your hair. “Does it feel nice?” 

“So nice,” you hum. It reminds you of how your mum had played with your hair when you were small. It wasn’t a regular occurrence but it stood out amongst your childhood memories. Amongst the comforting ones anyway. 

You indulge in the feeling of his fingers brushing through your hair for a few minutes more, eyelids feeling heavier and the movie fading into background noise. “My mum brushed my hair sometimes,” you murmur. “When I couldn’t sleep.” 

He drops his feet from where they are propped up on the coffee table. “Where’s your brush?” he asks. 

“You don’t have to do it,” you say, lifting your head from his lap to look up at him. “Just a memory I was thinking about, that’s all.” 

He lifts you from his lap so he can stand. Stubborn, as always. “It’s under the bathroom sink,” you instruct, offering him a small grateful smile.

When he returns you’re sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch in preparation. He settles himself behind you, caging you in with his knees on either side of you. He lifts your hair, gently brushing any tangles from the ends before he begins brushing the entire length—bristles massaging your scalp with each stroke. You sigh, dropping your head back to rest against the couch cushion. It limits the areas he can work but you hardly care, letting him brush from your hairline back towards him. 

The movie is well and truly white noise now, all your attention on the gentle strokes your boyfriend makes and the fingers he’s begun brushing over your collarbones with his other hand. He taps a little as he goes, making a trail up your neck to your jaw. 

“Nice?” he whispers. 

All you can offer in this state is a slight blissful hum in return. His fingers move to your lips, brushing so lightly over your lips it tickles a little. Then he’s leaning down, legs jostling you just before his lips brush over yours. “Should we go to bed?” he whispers.

HYUNJIN — STARGAZING

“It’s kinda dark,” you say as your boyfriend pulls the huge bag he’d packed from the car. 

He shuts the car door then takes your hand in his. “Yes, that’s the point,” he says, a small puff of laughter leaving his lips. 

“Is it safe?” 

He gives you a small tug, encouraging you to follow him up the grassy slope. “It’s safe,” he assures you. “I used to come here all the time with my dad.” 

You were struggling to see the ground in front of you, amazed by how fast your boyfriend was moving despite the near pitch black darkness. “Yeah but… he’s big and scary.” 

Hyunjin laughs, finally coming to a stop on a flat patch of grass atop the small hill and dropping the large bag from his shoulder. “I can’t be scary?” he questions, pulling a large picnic rug from his bag and unfolding it. 

“No,” you answer easily, helping him lay the mat down onto the grass. You sit down quickly, kicking your shoes off to keep it clean. 

Something soft hits the side of your face just before your boyfriend joins you on the ground. You feel around, locating the pillow and placing it at the edge of the picnic rug so you can lie down. 

Your lips part as you look up. The sky… you were looking at it for the first time since stepping out of the car. You’d never seen so many stars in your life. You’d been driving for so long out of the city, it was clear now why. He’d clearly driven you far enough from the light pollution that a whole sea of stars that had been otherwise invisible to you were now shining bright. 

A blanket covers you suddenly and you pull it up to your chin just before your boyfriend drops back onto his own pillow beside you. You’re still quiet, eyes fixed on the glittering sky. 

“Pretty, right?” he says eventually, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him no warning before you pull him down on top of you. He laughs as you hold him tightly, planting his hands on the mat to keep some of his body weight off you. “Thank you,” you whisper before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

He rolls off you then snakes his arm under your head and pulls you up against his side so you can both look up at the stars. “I haven’t been here in years,” he says. 

“We should come here again.” 

He turns his head, lips brushing your hairline. “It’s not scary?” 

You drape your arm across his stomach, squeezing him slightly. “No,” you whisper. “Not with you.” 

“Oh, so I'm so unscary that I also just… repel anything else that might be?” 

“Mm,” you hum, smiling to yourself.

JISUNG — WATER FIGHTS

You pull the fan closer to the couch, making sure it’s directed at your face before falling back into the cushions with a groan. It was disgustingly hot, the hottest day of the year so far by a long way. It was a shame you and your boyfriend both had today off work and not the day before. It was too hot to do anything at all. 

“Baby! Come outside!” he calls through the open window. He’d been in the backyard for at least half an hour. Gardening, you assumed. Why he wanted to be outside in this weather, you had no idea. You were too hot to care. 

“Too hot,” you grumble, throwing your arm over your head. You imagine how you must look: like a Victorian maiden suffering from some vague illness. You huff out a laugh at the thought just as the backdoor swings open. 

Your boyfriend leans over you, a droplet of sweat rolling down his temple. “Come outside, please,” he asks, bottom lip pushed out into a pout. 

“Do you want me dead?” 

He grabs your hand, tugging at you. “Just come,” he whines. 

You groan. “Pull me up then.” 

He tugs properly, pulling you onto your feet and leading you outside. You rub at your eyes as he guides you and stumble over the step at the backdoor, relying on your boyfriend to keep you on your feet. He drops your hand once you’re steady, disappearing around the side of the house to leave you squinting in the bright sunlight. You watch a few dark clouds in the distance, hoping they were a sign of rain. Something hits your side then explodes at your feet. You yelp jumping onto the grass and looking up at your boyfriend. He’s holding a big metal bowl in his hand, the same one you used for your baking. Your eyes move to something colourful in his hand just as he pelts it at you. You duck your head, tucking it into your chest and shielding yourself with your arms. It bounces at your feet: a water balloon.  

You look up at him just as tosses another one. “Stop! It’s not fair if you hog them all!” you shout, moving towards him with your eyes pointed at the ground and one arm in front of you. 

He giggles, dodging your grasp as you reach for him. You watch him run across the yard, bowl full of water balloons tucked safely under his arm. You throw your head back, groaning. “It’s too hot to chase you,” you whine. 

“Check near the hose,” he calls. 

You turn to look down the side of the house, a bucket sitting next to the tangled garden hose. You trudge over to find it full of water balloons. No wonder he was out here so long, he’d filled and tied enough for you both. You pick up the bucket, resting it against your hip so you can dig balloons out with your other hand. When you reappear around the corner, a balloon narrowly misses your legs. 

You fish a big one out of the bucket and throw, laughing as it bursts directly onto his chest. 

He grins just as a rumble of thunder rolls across the sky. “You’re in for it now!” he yells. 

When you’re all out of balloons and the first droplets of rain fall from the sky he tackles you to the grass, hand cradling your head before it hits the ground. He hovers over you, hair sticking to his forehead.

“I haven’t had a water balloon fight since…I was 8 maybe,” you manage to get out between panting breaths. “I forgot they existed.” 

“Now we have to pick them all up,” he says, equally breathless. 

“I need to recharge first.” 

“Mm? You wanna just lie here for a bit?” 

“Kiss,” you prompt, lifting your head a little. 

He grins. “Oh, is that how you recharge?” 

You nod, wrapping your arms around him and pulling his lips to yours.

FELIX — THEME PARKS

“I’m not sure I can,” you mutter, looking up at the twists and turns of the towering rollercoaster. 

Your boyfriend places his hand on your back, rubbing gentle circles as he speaks. “You don’t have to. There’s other rides,” he says. 

“But this is my chance, I want to try at least once.” 

You’d only been to one other theme park in your life, when your grandparents had taken you as a child. You’d been too small to ride any of the rollercoasters then. Felix had seen the glint of regret in your eyes as you’d told him, deciding in that moment what you’d be doing that weekend. He watches you now, arms wrapped around your stomach in a defensive gesture. You were brave, he knew you’d refuse to give up until you’d worked up the courage. He hated seeing you afraid. 

“We can come back, anytime,” he says.

You suck in a deep breath then reach to take his hand. “No,” you say, determined. “Let’s go.” 

He lets you lead him to the queue, squeezing your hand periodically as you bounce your knee—a clear sign of your anxiety. He places his hand on your shoulder, directing your attention to him and away from the people boarding the ride at the front of the queue. “What do you want to do after?” he asks, offering you a small smile. 

“Um, I dunno. Whatever you want.” 

“Food? Are you hungry?” 

You shake your head, looking back to the front of the queue as the ride takes off. You’ll be on the next one. “Don’t have an appetite,” you answer.

“There’s fireworks later,” he says, attempting to get your attention again. It works. You snap your eyes to his, lighting up with excitement. He smiles, tugging you closer and wrapping his arms around you.

“Are there really?” 

He nods, struggling to keep the smile off his face at your wide eyed enthusiasm. “We can find a place right under them, so the ones that trickle down look like they’re coming right at us.” 

You jump a little in his arms, a small smile pulling your lips up at the corners. Then the ride attendant calls you forward. Your smile drops and he moves you aside so he can go first, settling into the seat and pulling the harness down over himself. He helps you pull yours down, taking your hand in his as soon as it’s free. “We don’t have to do it,” he reminds you, looking up to the ride attendant as he helps others into their seats. 

You shake your head. “It’ll be fine,” you say before looking to him for reassurance. “Right?” 

He squeezes your hand, smiling at you. “Of course it will. I’m right here.” 

You’re quiet until the top of the first slope, kicking your legs back and forth and keeping his hand grasped tightly in yours. Just before you tip over the edge you lean forward, making eye contact with him and offering him a bright smile. Then you’re both screaming, too focused on the dropping sensations in your stomachs and gripping the harnesses to check in with each other. 

When it’s over he reaches over to take your hand, your laughter evidence of your enjoyment. “Good?” he asks anyway, breathless from his own screaming. 

You squeeze his hand. “Let’s go again,” you exclaim, kicking your legs in excitement. 

He grins, taking in your blown out hair and bright smile. “Okay.”

SEUNGMIN — BIRTHDAY GIFTS

You were used to birthday’s passing without much fanfare. In fact, you preferred it that way at this point. It was your first birthday with your boyfriend and you hadn’t thought to say anything about it at all. That’s why, when you arrive home to find a large box with a big red bow on the top you pause—confused for a moment. Oh. Your birthday. 

You close the door gently and toe your shoes off, attempting to make as little noise as possible. Then the box moves. You snap your eyes to the large box, thinking perhaps you’d imagined it. It shakes again. 

“Seungmin!” you call, afraid to get any closer. 

He appears around the corner, looking like he’d just woken from sleep. Then, taking in your appearance at the door his eyes widen before dropping to the large box between you. He hurries towards you, wrapping you in a quick hug before pulling you closer to the present. “Happy birthday,” he says. 

“It moved.” 

His lips curve up. “That’s a good sign.”

“Why did you buy me a present?” 

He frowns. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because it’s not a big deal. It’s just…the day I was born. I don’t need anything.” 

“It’s a big deal to me. I’m very grateful for it,” he says before sighing. “Now would you open the giant box?” 

You huff out a breath of laughter at his impatience. “Alright, alright.” 

You take a hesitant step closer and then gingerly pull the ribbon loose, letting it fall down the sides and onto the floor. Your boyfriend presses his hand to your back, encouraging you to continue. You lift the flaps quickly, snatching your hands back to your body before anything inside can bite them off. Something bounces around inside and you lean over to find a tiny puppy attempting to climb up the cardboard walls. 

You feel like the breath is knocked from your lungs, leaning down quickly to snatch the tiny thing into your arms. Your eyes water embarrassingly fast and you look back up to your boyfriend. “What the fuck is this?” you ask, failing to keep the emotion from your voice. 

“A dog.” 

You take a step closer to him so you can shove him with your shoulder just before you burst into tears. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you and the tiny puppy. “You said you never had any pets as a kid,” he mumbles into your hair. “Thought you might like one. Got him from the shelter.” 

“I love him,” you sob. 

“And me?” he questions, pulling back to direct your eyes to his. He has that smile on his face. The one he used when you fell on your ass and he had to pull you to your feet and check you weren’t damaged. Teasing, and fond. 

“And you.”

JEONGIN — VIDEO GAMES

He’d been trying to invent some excuse to invite you over for a year. More than a year now. He’d only managed brief interactions with you since you’d moved into the apartment next door. They were enough that he wanted to know you more. 

He sucks in a deep breath before knocking, preparing himself for the thing he’d been putting off so long. You swing the door open with no warning, much quicker than he’d anticipated. 

“Um, hi,” is what he offers in greeting. 

“Hi, Jeongin,” you answer, a friendly smile on your lips. Don’t stare at her lips, he self chastises—dropping his eyes to the box in his hand instead. 

“I was at my parents house this weekend,” he begins, shuffling on his feet a little. “I found this old console. Most of the games are mutli player and I thought…maybe you’d like to try them with me?” 

It wasn’t a strong excuse. He could’ve asked a friend. Why would he ask his pretty neighbour he’d hardly spoken to. Your eyes drop to the box in his hands. “What console?” you ask, no judgement evident in your voice. He tilts the box towards you so you can see its contents. You take a quick step towards him and dig your hands into the box, lifting the white console from the tangle of wires. “Oh my god,” you exclaim. “I had a Wii as a kid! I have no idea where mine ended up.” 

He can’t keep the smile off his face. Well, this was going better than he thought. “I’m not sure where most of the games are,” he says. “I have Wii Sports and Mario Kart.” 

—

You laugh as he swings the controller around, failing in blocking your attack and watching as the little animated version of him topples off the tower. You were playing a game where the controllers acted like little lightsabers, and you were much better at it than he was. He couldn’t really care less, not when you’re laughing like you are. 

You drop to the floor as the game ends, controller resting on your stomach as you lie on your back. He joins you. “Did you play this a lot?” he asks. “As a kid.” 

You prop yourself up on your elbows to answer him. “Mm, was my sister's favourite. I’ve had years of practice,” you grin. 

“So I was setting myself up by asking you to play with me.” 

You laugh. “Do you regret it?” 

He shakes his head. “Not at all.” 

“I feel a bit silly,” you say, dropping your eyes from his. Your hair drops over your eyes and he resists the urge to lean over and brush it off your face. First day you’ve spent time together properly, he reminds himself. 

“Silly?” he questions. 

“I’ve…been working up the courage to ask you over for a while. I just thought… you would have asked if you were interested. It’s so easy now I’m here, I just feel silly for putting it off for so long.” 

He sits up straighter, dropping the controller onto the ground. “You—I mean you…wanted to ask me?” 

You nod. He laughs, falling flat on his back before turning to look at you. You have a little wrinkle between your eyes where your brows are pulled together in confusion. He wants to know you well enough that he could reach up and smooth it out. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” he asks. 

You offer him another pretty smile and his heart thumps hard in his chest. “Sure. As long as we can play another game.” 

“As many as you want,” he answers.

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist

[yuoimia]

DAY 7: A LITTLE SOMETHING ❅⋆⍋

summary: they can get a little overboard with gifts, especially for you.

characters: ayato, kaeya, wanderer, zhongli.

notes: gn! reader, last sentence in ayato’s is suggestive, wc: 120-200 per paragraph.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ dreamy december event masterlist

ayato

If faced with the prospects of going on a little rendezvous to a market or enduring a lengthy cooking class with Ayato, you’d gladly risk the guarantee of waking up with an upset stomach.

At first, the answer to the choices seem almost obvious, you don’t even need to think twice before coming to a conclusion. Why would anyone face the risk of food poisoning in comparison to a harmless shopping trip?

You sincerely, from the bottom of your heart, are thankful and cherish every single one of the gifts Ayato never failed to starve you of, selected with the most detailed and precise of observations and preferences. Your workspaces are graced with the most refreshing pieces of decor, your bewitching collection of accessories is always the most elegant and entrancing, and your wardrobe, perhaps the most elaborative and extensive out of all, owns the most divine pieces of fabrics and fibres too substantial to comprehend.

Frankly, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise when you tell Ayato to lower his budget, which, as he strongly believes, is a sacrifice towards his serotonin. Eventually, through trailing kisses, hasty promises and faltering sighs, you two finally come to an agreement.

kaeya

Kaeya earnestly explains, over and over, that can’t help it, that you should be placing the blame on the sellers for luring him yet again into purchasing. The harsh burden of having a generous soul, he sighs. Can’t you feel an ounce of pity for him? Besides, he truly can’t help that, “there were just so many things that reminded me of you.”

To be brutally honest, Kaeya’s only motive for these ceaseless piles of presents was purely out of self-indulgence. It was quite selfish, yes, but the pleasure didn’t derive from the shopping, it wasn’t to satisfy his spontaneous decision-making when it came to such matters, but rather the gleeful radiance shining from your face whenever he came home with something in hand. How you attempted to reserve yourself and not seem overly excited, and Kaeya delights that he can see right through you.

The only way to understand his strange way of thinking was to picture yourself in his shoes. Would you do the same if it promised such a reaction from Kaeya?

wanderer

Wanderer is the pure embodiment of the phrase, “actions speak louder than words.” Secrecy travels with every move he makes, every action he meticulously plans. It weaves into the reasoning of the most minuscule of tasks when it comes to you; he can’t refrain from it. Striving for perfection entrusts some sort of validation seeping into the ventricles of his heart, before pumping out avid determination, a desire to exceed after each result, one grander and more adoring than the last.

The gifts he pledges aren’t a mere reimbursement for his lack of sweet nothings or public hand-holding, they’re something much more sentimental with enigmatic depth, a beautifully tied bow unravelling cryptic messages that only sweeten as time ticks along. It’s summarised within a few careful judgements, courtesy of his impeccable ability to read your emotions, those gifts are, and will always make your smile a thousand times more genuine than any sugarcoated words or physical affection in the eyes of him and you.

zhongli

Working as a consultant at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor must bestow the blessing of generous income and time.

It’s the only explanation for this growing observation: the handy wallet somehow never running out of mora (though you admit, he can be quite forgetful of it), and the suggested galore of unlimited spare time, which certainly must be the reasoning behind why Zhongli can afford to obtain such bountiful amounts of precious treasures that always leave you breathless.

Quite often, his indulgence results in a slicing feeling of guilt, leaving you in a state of burrowing gloom, overthinking the matter until the idea is reduced to a singular strand of disregard. After all, the little trinkets are simply harmless expressions of love, even if they occasionally overflow your doorway.

[undead-supernova]

Tolerance Break / Masterlist

Bonus Chapters

Part 4 / Part 5

warnings: mostly warning free outside of alcohol consumption, arguments, a hint of spice, and emergency cigarettes

pairings: bestfriend!modern!eddie x fem!reader

plot: sometimes you just gotta clear the smoke

wc: 5.2k

How the fuck did you end up agreeing to go to another karaoke night?

No, seriously. What the hell was wrong with you?

Okay, maybe you were being a little too mean to yourself. But didn’t you deserve it after everything that transpired between you and Eddie?

There was something that was beginning to float away from the two of you, something that felt familiar. It was exactly what you’d feared, the teetering in and out. No calls, no texts. Nothing there on your screen, left for dead on your bedroom floor most days as you blocked out any and all noise you could. Only listened to the kind of metal and screamo that sounded like fuzz, where their lyrics were practically incoherent from their gutteral screams. Played every goddamn Lego game on your Xbox and, yes, you specifically avoided clicking on Lego The Hobbit.

And to be fair, you hadn’t responded to any of the texts Eddie did send that first week. You had hope that he would show up like a knight in shining armor, taking your silence as a chance for him to be a hero—as if that was a justified response. 

Because silence equaled confirmation that you were done. And confirmation that you were done meant that Eddie had to respect whatever boundaries you’d put up. Despite this, you stared at the door whenever you came home. Left a light on in the middle of the night just in case his knock woke you. 

Just in case. Just in case.

But this wasn’t coping.

This was your own personal hell.

Because you also knew about the back and forth with Steve, the hopeful glances and longing stares. The missed chances and opportunities and the stupid, stupid mistakes that you thought about making. You also knew that your relationship with Eddie was going to change significantly. Maybe it already had.

You were leaning up against the side of your car, smoking an emergency cigarette from the pack stashed in your glove box. The anxiety was starting to eat you alive as you really came to terms with the fact that you were going to see Eddie for the first time in nearly a month. And, by the grace of God, you were going to be seeing him sober.

He would probably get there late knowing his finicky Tuesday schedule, sometimes having a longer shift than normal. Maybe he’d be all sweaty and grimy, frustrated and unable to talk to you. Or he could be bright and cheery and make conversation, blind to the magic of your lucky fishnets chosen for tonight.

How would he act? Would everything be okay? Did he even want to talk to you after what happened?

What even really happened?

Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all. 

Would it even be worth it to stay?

The sound of Robin calling your name woke you from your self-indulgent nightmare fuel. You looked up, watching her wave at you with Steve in tow, sporting a white crop top and a deep green button down left open, bracelets galore. Steve was in his work outfit, sleeves rolled up, button down unbuttoned and untucked. Disheveled wife beater clinging for dear life in this weather. Like he was straight out of a quirky 2000s movie. Except he didn’t look exhausted, just slightly tired.

You met them halfway, giving Robin a side hug to keep her away from the smoke.

But as soon as you pulled back, she grabbed the cigarette and crushed it under her Vans. Even went so far as to stomp on it. 

“Rob, seriously?” Steve asked. 

“Gross,” Robin replied, shaking her head at you. “So, so gross.”

You just wanted five minutes of unhealthy coping mechanisms—but you knew Robin was right. Getting back into smoking cigarettes just because you were in a perpetual state of sorrow due to your own actions may not be the best course of action. Maybe that’s why you felt better on your two-week tolerance break from smoking weed. It just felt better to have a clear head, especially if it wasn’t doing well in the first place.

Steve gave you an apologetic look, also giving you a side hug. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s probably for the best.”

“Should we go inside?” Robin asked, pointing at Go Ask Mary. 

What you noticed as soon as you sat down was that neither of them even mentioned Eddie. Didn’t tell you whether he was still coming or whether he’d be late. The three of you were ten minutes early to the scheduled time, so it wouldn’t be too bad, right?

Steve started chatting you up immediately, (almost unbearably) asking you how you’d been doing and if you’d seen anything good on Netflix or Max lately. You really didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to even look at him. Because if you did, you’d only see betrayal in his eyes, a mere reflection of your guilt.

As if noticing your discomfort, Robin butt in. “Actually, I was watching this documentary on that new NASA thing and apparently there’s this black hole—"

You were starting to feel sick to your stomach and it only increased when Eddie walked into the bar twenty minutes late. 

Despite telling yourself not to, you looked up at him.

He wasn’t grimy or dirty, like he’d showered before coming. Like he felt the need to clean up before, what, coming to a bar on a Tuesday evening? His hair was all volumized and bouncy, face glowing in the dim lighting. A Master of Reality Black Sabbath tee with his jeans and his leather jacket and his chains and his everything…

And despite Robin and Steve greeting him first, Eddie held your eye contact. 

You hated how that made you feel. Like you were the only reason why he was here. Like you were the only reason he was being social and staying out late. Like you made it worth it.

But neither one of you said anything to each other.

The last few weeks had been…quite unbearable if Eddie had to describe it. He spent nearly every night at his phone, talking to Wayne as if he was his therapist. Wayne bit the bullet and comforted him, tried to give him advice about the whole thing. But Eddie was in a fugue state, unable to truly manage his heartache, even with his stashed emergency cigarettes in his glove box. So, when he got the invitation to another karaoke night and Robin promised you’d be there, he made sure to leave work early, take an extra-long shower, and come prepared to talk.

When you said you’d get the first round, Eddie did his best to stay seated.

Because neither of you had said anything to each other and Eddie wasn’t really sure what that meant. He wasn’t even sitting next to Steve tonight because he felt so embarrassed…but what about you?

Because you looked tense, a tight smile on your lips that definitely didn’t meet your eyes. Your grip on your vodka Redbull was starting to concern him, all strained knuckles and shaky glass. Steve and Robin blabbered on, you and Eddie contributing when it seemed necessary, never actually talking to each other. 

By the time Robin said she’d get the second and you jumped at the chance to go for her, he’d given up on being polite.

He reached into his jean jacket pocket to find his black Bic lighter, his holy savior when it came to anxiety and fear. You were ten steps ahead of him, refusing to look back. Refusing to even look up, as if the idea of making eye contact with anyone in Go Ask Mary was borderline criminal.

Eddie glanced at Steve and Robin before standing up.

“Ooh, are you going to go talk to her?” Robin asked, taking a final sip of her first Coke and Bacardi to try to hide her smile. Steve mirrored her, taking a long gulp of his beer as he raised an eyebrow at the man.

The two were the definition of the phrase in cahoots.

Eddie only rolled his eyes in response, turning on his heels to follow your lead. 

You were in nearly an identical outfit to the one he last saw you in, with your black Joan Jett t-shirt replaced with a black Scene Queen crop top. A leather jacket. And there with it, a pleated black miniskirt that swayed with you as you walked, calling attention to your fishnets and maroon Converse. Red lipstick to match. Fucking hell— 

He was utterly weak for you.

And how did he open up a line of dialogue?

“This is awkward, isn’t it?”

You turned to him before looking down, watching the black lighter move between his fingers—always noticing his anxious habits but never truly calling him out. 

“I guess,” you replied, seemingly nonchalant.

But he was getting closer and…was that cigarette smoke on your jacket? Had you been smoking? Eddie thought about asking, but there you were beating him to the punch.

“Emergency cigarette, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve been stressed about something.”

“It’s all over you, too,” he countered. “I wonder if there’d be a common denominator if we compared notes.”

He didn’t miss the way you scowled before trying to cover up your frustration. “It’s just been tough at work.”

“Oh, so is that why you haven’t texted me in three weeks?”

“Eddie—”

“Hey, it’s just a question,” he said lightly, throwing his hands up.

Before you could say anything, the bartender was sliding you the drinks.

“You left your jacket at my place,” you said as you handed Robin’s card to the guy. “It’s in my car if you want to grab it before you leave. Or earlier if you’d like.”

But Eddie wasn’t one to back down, was he?

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“And I don’t intend to,” you stated, scribbling on the receipt before turning to walk away. Eddie noticed you left his and Steve’s drinks behind. With a sigh, Eddie grabbed them and followed you back to the table.

After everyone was a bit tipsy, Robin found her way to the karaoke stage, followed by Steve. You noticed that Eddie was opting out, merely sitting there in silence. He nursed his whisky, nodding along to whatever conversation was happening, even if he was directly spoken to. It was already bad enough that he was sitting closer to you than he did Steve.

Was he trying to make you feel better? Was his silence to keep everyone from feeling weird? Did he tell Steve about what happened, and they were trying to play it cool? Lower the awkwardness? 

Your anxiety was starting to crawl along your skin resulting in you having to take your jacket off. The alcohol doing absolutely nothing to diffuse it. Even if you drank faster. Not that you would ever feel the need to expedite the process of any form of intoxication or inebriation. Not at all. Nope. Never.

But after another dreadful fifteen minutes, you needed out of there. 

Fast.

“I’m going to sing a song,” you announced, interrupting Steve.

Before anybody could respond or react, you shot out of your chair and walked over to the guy by the stage. He sat on a stool behind a podium, his laptop hooked up to a speaker.

“Pick your poison of the night,” he said with a grin. “The Eighties are your oyster.”

“Gladly.”

Eddie watched you scroll through the guy’s laptop, bouncing from side-to-side as you debated your choices. Nodding your head along to whatever he was saying.  

And he just couldn’t help himself from being a pest, from ignoring Robin and Steve, from walking over and ending up behind you.

“What’s the song choice?”

You flinched, turning to look at him with quite a nasty look on your face. 

“Why do you care?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you being so goddamn mean?”

Like before, you gave no answer.

Instead, you grabbed the microphone and stepped up on the poor excuse for a stage. As you lifted your foot, your skirt started riding up. Eddie didn’t mean to look up your skirt in a moment like this, scout’s honor, but he caught a snippet of…your…garter belt?

Were those your…lucky fishnets? No, he had to be mistaken. You already had a few pairs, there was no way you’d worn the lucky ones when you were being this mean.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked him, your voice sounding much, much harsher than it usually did.

“I’m not looking at you like—”

The track started and you shook your head, turning from him to put on a smile and face everyone else but him. 

Eddie didn’t stay, heaving a sigh before walking off to sit back down next to Steve and Robin. 

Clearing your throat, you let yourself groove through the beginning instrumentals, shaking off Eddie’s words and the fact that he didn’t stay to watch. Didn’t stay to show any support or be your biggest fan like always. But this wasn’t about him. 

         “There's a boy I know, he's the one I dream of.

         Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above..."

You were met with a few cheers at the choice of song. Trying to play along, you held onto the cord of the mic, twisting it around your fingers, while moving your hips from side to side. Your pleated skirt moved with you, twisting and turning and twirling wherever you moved. 

For the first time tonight, you smiled.

         “How will I know if he really loves me?

         I say a prayer with every heartbeat.

         I fall in love whenever we meet.

         I'm asking you what you know about these things."

But something began to click in your head.

Because this was absolutely about Eddie. This was exactly how you’d been feeling for the last three years. Every little, tiny thing that had run through your mind whenever you were together. Whenever you were laughing or crying or going on dates that ultimately turned into duds. When you went to the aquarium or the movies or Jailbait Hemp… 

When you were sitting with him for the first time in this exact bar, wondering if he was going to be something more in your life, unable to predict where you’d inevitably be. 

         “Falling in love is so bittersweet.

         This love is strong, why do I feel weak?”

You closed your eyes as you kept going, determined to get through this without having a meltdown. If you just powered through it, then everything would sort itself out and you’d sit back down and Robin would tell you that the song was a good choice and Steve would say some dumb shit. And Eddie—

Eddie would say nothing at all. 

And at the end of the night, you’d tell Robin and Steve goodbye. You’d turn to walk away to your car and hope that Eddie would run up to you and demand to talk. But you’d inevitably be met with disappointment as you reached your car. He wouldn’t grab his jacket. He wouldn’t say a word. And the two of you would fade without a sound. Without even a goodbye. And you’d know then for certain that he never truly wanted to be with you. He’d made his choice.

         “If he loves me…if he loves me not.”

When you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see Eddie near the edge of the stage, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. 

         “If he loves me…if he loves me not.”

He was looking at you the way you hated, the way you secretly loved. Like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

         “If he loves me...if he loves me not.”

He was quiet, not even swaying, letting you sing no matter how terrible it sounded. Just making eye contact with you, watching you. You tried looking away, but nothing else could hold your attention long enough before you were back, trying to make sense as to why he was still there.

And there was something bubbling in your chest, something starting to unfurl.

         “How will I know if he really loves me?”

Something was starting to constrict your vocal cords and you had no way of letting it go.

         “I say a prayer with every heartbeat.”

Especially when Eddie was still standing there, and you were realizing that whatever you two had was over.

         “I fall in love whenever we meet.”

This chapter of your life was coming to a close. 

         “I'm asking you what you know about these things.”

Nothing was going to fix this.

         “How will I know if he’s thinking of me?”

There was nothing you could do.

         “I try to phone but I’m too shy. Can’t speak.”

Nothing.

         “Falling in love is so bittersweet…”

You started to choke up, sniffling as you looked at Eddie, with his pretty brown eyes and his intense fucking stare and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Was this the last time you’d ever see each other? Was this truly the end? Was this the last look you’d get of him, forever lodged in your memory as the moment you lost the greatest thing to ever happen to you to someone else? 

         “I feel weak—"

Without hesitation, you dropped the mic, jumping down and running past Eddie. Robin and Steve tried to call your name, but you couldn’t do it anymore. You pushed open the front door into the tangerine glow of the sunset and felt yourself fall apart.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” Robin asked, shaking her head at him as he sluggishly made his way back to the table. “I mean, seriously.”

“This has gotten totally out of hand,” Steve said with a sigh, swirling a straw in his beer bottle.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Robin said sarcastically. “How do you think she feels?”

Steve nodded. “You literally didn’t want to keep going on dates because you’re into her.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed. “You said you were okay with it.”

“I am,” Steve said, throwing up his hands. “I get it. You feel how you feel. No shame in that. But I just think it’s kinda annoying when you’re not even doing anything about it. I mean, seriously, dude. It’s been, what, two weeks?”

“Three and a half,” Eddie corrected.

Steve gestured to him. “My point exactly.”

Eddie felt like an idiot. The way he watched you start to crack onstage, as if you were bending. Breaking. Falling apart.

“Are you really gonna just let her leave?”

Eddie turned at the unfamiliar voice. It was the drag queen that seemed to always be there, Luverne Bell, just out of drag this time. He stood there with his hands on his hips, still wearing a killer manicure. 

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Boy, I watched that poor girl thirsting over you a month ago, jealous as hell of that one with the hair,” she said, pointing at Steve before looking back at Eddie. “She sang to you tonight—fuckin’ Whitney Houston, the queen of all queens—and you’re questioning if you should be a big boy and go tell her you love her? Are you that stupid?”

“No, I…” Eddie gulped. “I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Then go, idiot,” Robin said from the table. “You’re literally wasting time.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Don’t fuck it up.”

They were right. Eddie couldn’t back down. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

It felt odd how simple it was. 

Even when he was unsure of your feelings. Even when you had those awkward conversations. Even when he’d be on a date with Steve or talking Robin’s ear off about his frustrations—not to mention Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. (They got much more than they needed to.) Hell, even after you fought and stopped talking for nearly a month. No matter how hard this felt, loving you was simple.

And he planned to keep loving you no matter what.

Eddie nodded before walking towards the door.

He could hear Luverne Bell sigh behind him, saying, “I’m getting that fuckin’ invite to the wedding, so help me God.”

It was all completely hopeless.

This was probably the lowest you’d been in a long time, dramatically running off a stage at your favorite bar in front of the guy who you’d been in love with for the past three years. And now you were too weak to get in your car and drive far away from here, far away from Eddie. 

You tried being an asshole to him, tried to get him to push you away and leave you alone. It would be better that way, giving him a reason to never come near you again. At least then you wouldn’t be tempted to tell him that the sight of him with Steve made you want to throw up. Hell, you already did.

Tears streamed down your face as you lightly hit your head back on the brick wall of the building. You needed to distract yourself. Calm yourself down.

With the las bit of strength you had, you shuffled over to your car to grab another emergency cigarette. You caught the sight of Eddie’s jacket in the passenger seat and nearly screamed, wanting to run over the damn thing out of spite.

Maybe act on impulse and burn the damn thing. 

As if you’d ever actually do it.

You managed to successfully light your cigarette when you heard Eddie call your name. Turning, you could see him looking around to find you before he finally did. He called your name again.

“Don’t leave!” he said loudly. “Come back.”

With messy makeup and even messier hair, you looked him directly in the eye as you walked back over. If this was how everything was to end, you were ready. No matter how fucked up you looked. No matter how fucked up you felt.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“What’s there to say?” you asked, taking a strong drag.

“You can’t keep playing this game with me,” he said, shaking his head. “You really can’t.”

“Go back to Steve,” you choked out, fingers shaking as you took another drag. “I bet he’s better company than I am.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to go fucking be with Steve right now, alright?”

“Why not?” you asked loudly. “He’s all cool and hot and sexy and a big, hot, sexy hot shot. I’m sure he’s better than me in every way possible.”

This earned you another eye roll. “Oh my god.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment, dragging them down to his chin before giving an exasperated sigh. “I don’t see why you care when you’re the one who didn’t answer any of my texts, nor did you answer me when I asked you why like an hour and a half ago.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you lied.

“That’s just a shitty copout at this point.”

“You’re annoying,” you lied again.

“And you’re acting like a dick!” he exclaimed. “An outrageously humongous cockhead!”

You scowled at him. “Oh, I’m the cockhead? Really?”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Real mature. Nice.” You waved him away, taking another drag. “Go back to your boyfriend already.”

“Stop bringing up Steve, oh my god!” he nearly shouted.

A scoff left your mouth. “You’re the one dating him.”

“Yeah, well, I broke shit off with Steve three and a half weeks ago.”

You paused, pulling the cigarette from your lips. “You did?”

Eddie nodded. “Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know,” he said with a breathy sigh, fiddling with his lighter. “Just in love with my best friend over here, no big deal.”

“You’re…” You lost grip of your cigarette as everything began to swirl around you. 

He was…actually in love with you?

“You’re in love with me?”

His eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”

“I…wasn’t sure.”

“Right, even when I almost kissed you, or…?”

“Well…I just thought when you…you said you thought Steve made you happy…” you trailed, losing steam. You couldn’t continue, only shrugging in response before crossing your arms over your chest.

He tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes. “And now here’s the part where you say you’re in love with me, too, right?” You looked up, watching his lips turn up in a small smile. “‘Cause there’s no way I’m interpreting this wrong anymore.”

You looked at him questioningly, nearly playful in nature now, deciding to push him just a little bit further. “Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“Because tonight I realized that you have been nothing but jealous this entire time and making fun of Steve who, correct me if I’m wrong, you’ve never had a problem with before.” He drew closer, putting his hands over your crossed arms. “And there’s nothing I want to do more right now than kiss you and make all of this stupid middle school drama go away.”

“Are you not worried we’ll lose everything if it doesn’t work out?”

Eddie smirked. “What if I told you that I don’t care about that and all I want is to take you home and cuddle on the couch and watch Lord of the Rings?”

“The extended edition?”

“Literally what else would I be referring to?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose at you, eyes searching yours. “Mm, and why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m absolutely, positively in love with you,” you admitted. “That’s why I’ve been looking at you like that for almost four years.”

He grinned. “God dammit, I knew that was what you always wanted to say.”

“And yet you never said anything about it,” you noted.

“Well, I—” Eddie paused before his eyes lit up. “Holy shit. Holy shit! You were gonna tell me that day at the aquarium, weren’t you?” Your mouth opened but you were way too embarrassed to admit to it. He studied your expression before a smirk fell on his lips. “You were! I knew it. I fucking knew—"

So, you kissed him.

Uncrossed your arms and grabbed his face, keeping him from walking away. From running away. From doing anything else than being right here, right now. In your grasp, in your kiss.

And Eddie wasted no time, roughly grabbing your waist and drawing you in, breathing you in. You were trying to process what was happening, but it was all going by so fast. Because his hands were squeezing your hips, fingers flexing as if he was consciously trying not to hurt you. 

Instantly, you couldn’t fathom ever feeling this euphoric. This carnal hunger for something so soft and tender. For finally being able to get to this moment, this aching desire having loomed over you for so long.

Despite this disbelief, you needed to push back, not ready to give away your dominance. Did he even know you? 

You reached a hand down and grabbed his ass, pulling him against you, earning a gasp from him. When you squeezed harder, he jumped and let out a small yelp.

Laughter spilled from your lips as you watched his cheeks turn red, close to matching your lipstick. And you noticed it hadn’t really transferred to his mouth, saving him from more embarrassment. (You thanked whatever God was out there that you’d worn your sturdy lipstick.) 

Even so, your lips were still on his, unable to disconnect. Unable to let them go anywhere.

“You think that’s funny?” he asked, playfully trying to stare you down.

You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

Eddie wrinkled his back at you. “Yeah?” He mimicked your voice, raising the pitch.

“Oh, yeah.”

Without warning, Eddie pushed you against the brick wall, slotting his thigh in between your legs. You swallowed a whimper, trying to stay quiet. Trying to sustain your dominance. But he had other plans, fingers slowly moving down your side until he grabbed your thigh and lifted it—roughly at first, but then carefully placing it snug around his hip. Delicately, as if the moment was meant to be cherished, as if you were meant to be handled with care. He dragged his fingers down your fishnets before curling his hand around your knee to quickly yank you up juuust a little further.

Eddie was moving his nose against the side of yours, shaking his head. “And what the fuck are you doing wearing these?”

“You don’t like them?” you whispered, pushing him further.

“Are you serious? I’m in love with them,” he admitted. “And you. Very much you.”

 “Told you they were lucky,” you responded with a playful shrug. 

“God, you’re frustrating,” he whispered before his lips met yours again. But he quickly moved, making his way down to your jaw. You wondered if he knew that you were getting dangerously close to losing your grip on whatever abstinence looked like. 

And then he reached the back of your ear and oh—

You let out an involuntary moan, having to lean away from the contact to catch your bearings. If you didn’t, you genuinely thought you were going to faint. 

“Maybe we could do some other things while we watch Lord of the Rings.”

Eddie tipped his head back as he let out a hearty laugh. “And what might that be? Watch the first, second, andthird?”

“It’s a—” Eddie quickly dipped back down, nipping at your neck. “Ah, fuck. It’s a surprise,” you finished, nearly moaning again. “Fuck, not for much longer if you keep doing that.”

“You want me to wait until we’re two and a half hours deep into Mordor?” he asked. “Do you know me at all? That shit is important.”

You shrugged. “Well, you could be two and a half hours deep into this pussy—”

“That was unnecessary,” he joked, shaking his head. 

Your smile widened. “It was kinda funny.”

“Just a little,” he admitted before moving his lips back to your jaw. 

“I could dress up as Sam?” you teased, feeling his teeth carefully grazing your earlobe. Another gasp escaped your lips. “Could call you Mister Frodo if you’d like.”

The vibrations of his laughter made tingles run down your neck.

“An intriguing thought,” he joked. “May I propose a trip to my van?”       

Now you fully pulled away from his face, wondering how serious he was.

“I’m not doing it in a parking lot.”

He feigned offense. “Why not? My van’s right there?”

“Eddie, I’m not having sex in your van.”

He tsked at you, leaving pecks on each of your cheeks. “You’re no fun.”

“How about a compromise,” you proposed, pressing a finger against his mouth. “How about you fuck me beforewe watch Lord of the Rings?”

“Does a joint happen to sneak its way in at some point?” he asked against your finger. You giggled as he removed it but continued to hold on. Smoothed his calloused fingertips over your knuckles.

“One before, one after,” you said matter-of-factly. 

He smirked. “I think I can manage that.”

You kissed him again.

And it really wasn’t so stupid after all.

[pinkmirth]

What do you think Reiner and his s/o would argue about in a relationship? I can't imagine it would last long

BACK TALK, reiner braun !

SYNOPSIS — just a fluffy lil drabble about reiner wanting to take care of you. he doesn’t want to argue, but you’re just so stubborn…

CONTAINS — 1k words of . . . fluff, fem!reader (black coded), “girly-girl” reader, reiner feeds you, lowercase intended, just sappy stuff with this caring gentleman <3 (kinda sorta self indulgent!)

this is a tough one, nonnie…. only because maturity is reiner’s best attribute! picking a problem with you is the last thing this man wants to do, and he’s very slow to anger. you’re right about any disputes not lasting long! even if he tried, reiner can’t stay mad at you.

the most that could happen between you and him are petty squabbles about preferences, something dumb like waffles over pancakes! the pair of you ultimately laugh it off and end up cuddling once all is said and done. It’s hard to envision a topic that could stir such a reaction from him to the point where he’s arguing with you. i think the only thing that would get him going back and forth in an “argument” is if he’s worried about you, but you decide to be stubborn with him.

for instance, you’re tired and have been studying all day, and he just wants you to allow yourself to relax. but! you’re persistent on finishing up your assignments. he’d probably grow upset and insist that you deserve a break . . . (veryyy self indulgent ‘cause i’ve been studying for a gajillion tests lately!)

dull thuds of reiner’s heavy footsteps upon carpet announce his entrance into your room. he strolls around your cozy little home-desk, the one he helped you build a couple months back when the school semester first began. it’s adorned in sanrio stickers galore and polaroid pictures of you and him, nostalgic square photos secured with baby-pink thumbtacks. reiner circles you with a brooding silence, flitting his eyes from the slideshow on your laptop screen to your scribbled notes. you feel him linger behind your chair, but opt on saying nothing.

“baby, c’mon…” reiner calls out, his tone borderline pleading, “you’ve been here for hours.” from behind your seat, he inches in until he’s close enough to rest his weighty hands on your stiffened shoulders. reiner’s warm palms rub along the junction of your neck. it’s helping— he can see it in the way your body slackens in your swivel chair.

“i gotta prep for tomorrow’s test,” his touch brings you to release a lax hum, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it for long. the fleeting moment of bliss he provides ends too soon, as you smooth out your oversized baby-pink tee-shirt and begin to refocus on your work.

“have you eaten?” he asks. the shake of your head brings about his frown. you could surely get your work done without depriving yourself of basic needs… all he wants is for you to be well taken care of. “no, not yet.” you spare him a glance before looking back over your laptop.

reiner’s hand shoots out, grabbing your chair and turning you halfway-round to face him. the closeness of his face to yours makes it seem like the perfect opportunity to press your lips to his and linger there for a while. instead, you remain still, choosing a safer route by stealing glances of his handsome attributes. your eyes run across his prominent collarbone peeking through his low-neck sweatshirt, the slight clench of his firm jaw, most especially the raw concern swimming in his honey-golden eyes. “why not?” reiner questions, with his brows drawn tight in worry. you whirl back around, for the sake of your own resolve.

“because i’m studying, reiner.”

“no, you’re cramming.” he corrects. reiner can read you like a damn storybook; it’s almost as though he knows you more than his very own self. “at least i’m drinking water,” you raise a bottle from your desk for emphasis. water sloshes in the cylindrical confines as you set it back down, “happy?”

reiner rolls his tongue and prods at his inner cheek. he decides to pay no mind to your little attitude. “water’s fine, but you need food.”

“a meal would be too heavy for me... i’d probably end up falling asleep.” you haphazardly shoo his suggestion, scribbling bullet points onto your notebook.

“so a snack would be better, then? your favorite fruit is in the fridge downstairs.” reiner turns on his heel, intent on coming back with a bowl of nicely-cut strawberries and mangoes. you reach out, clasping onto him forearm before he zips out of your room and descends the flight of stairs. “it’s okay, reiner.” you assure. the ends of your manicured nails ghost his wrist.

“is it really? ‘cause it’s hard to believe that you don’t want me to get anything at all.” he quirks up a thin brow as he says it. reiner knows just how much you need his support— you’re simply choosing to act like you don’t.

“i’ll get somethin’ to eat later, i promise.” with the twirl of your ballpoint-pen, you’re back to writing. this is his third time checking up on you, and you give him the same answer with every visit. all this stubbornness has gone on long enough.

“you may be busy, but you’re also tired.” he's quick to snatch the pen from your hands, right in the middle of you scrawling a sentence onto lined paper. “hey! reiner, give it—”

“nuh-uh. stop bein’ difficult about it.” he plants a large hand onto the back of your macbook and shuts it closed. you do an over-exaggerated huff, make a pout, throw in a bratty eye roll— he doesn’t care for it. what you need is to allow him take care of you. he can’t let his darling work herself to death, now can he? not in a literal sense, but he wouldn’t forgive himself for allowing this to continue.

“i’ll be right back, okay? and for the love of god, don’t open that goddamn laptop.” he makes his leave. you hear the faint hum of a microwave. it doesn’t take long for him to return, with a steaming plate of food in hand. reiner takes joy in replacing that stupid notebook of yours with the reheated dinner that he cooked up for you over an hour ago.

he pulls up a seat, scoots in close, and brings a hot forkful up to your mouth. “don’t argue. just eat, baby.”

this sly man knows that it’s your favorite food. you have no energy left to brush him off. finally, you give in. with a soft ‘ah’, you allow reiner to feed you. there’s a satisfied gleam in his eye as he stuffs your mouth with bite after bite.

“it’s good?” he softly asks. you cover your mouth while chewing, giving him a sheepish nod. “mm-hm.”

“you feel better, don’t you?” reiner nudges your shoulder with his broader one. you don’t try to fight the smile overtaking your lips. “i do…” you relent, looping your arms around his neck. he firmly hugs you in one arm, and uses his unoccupied hand to hold onto the ceramic plate. over half of the food’s gone.

he hears your quiet, sincere ‘thank you’ murmured into his chest, feels your frame relax against his. “good.” reiner sighs into your hair. he wants you to put yourself first, every single time. “that’s good.”