#soapy soles

[worshipthefatty]

wet tee, soft belly… who’s worthy of watching me drip in whipped cream? Prove it! 🖤✨️

All my links above in my pinned post📌

[taylor1207]

✨✨

[dissolved-g1rl]

can we have some girldad Dante? :3 I feel like it would be a gap between him protecting his little baby, to letting her grab a sword because he needs her to learn from now on like he did when he was a child

compromise ♡

Dante didn’t think his life could get any better. He accepted that he would never have a family of his own, his brother barely interacts with him, his nephew is a moody teenager, his dad…yikes. You had showed up as suddenly as a car accident, glowed like an angel, made his heart pound and his hands clammy. The best thing that had ever happened before, before Lilith, if you’re an angel, well then Lilith is like a perfect little cherub.

“Shh shh, please don’t wake up mom, she worked all day y’know, she’s sleepy.” Dante is at her side in an instant, picking her up from her pack n play. A lot can change in six months, Lilith is perfectly round and soft, his white hair sprouts up like she got shocked, he tries smoothing it down to no avail. It’s no wonder you always put her hair in two pigtails, it stands up on its own half the time. She gurgles, pushing her clenched fists on his chest, he laughs “You hittin’ me? You’re such a fighter already!” Dante dips down, rubbing his nose against her tiny one, she giggles, leaning away, looking at him dazed, then sneezes. “Oh bless you!” He coos, she whines something that sounds similar to “thank you.” She gets kisses for being such a smart talkative little girl, but Lilith isn’t entirely appreciative of how his stubble scratches her, slapping a chubby fist against Dantes cheek. “You are just like your mom, you guys can’t let me go a day without shaving, mom doesn’t always shave her legs and I don’t smack her, and you’re kinda fuzzy too kid.” He murmurs lightly swaying from side to side, she’s probably so talkative solely because Dante loves the sound of his own voice. “Mama?” she asks looking around, expecting to see you, “Mama is sleeping, dad’s here though.” He boops her little nose. “I know I’m not as pretty but I think I’m okay.” He shrugs, smiling when she loops pudgy arms around her, his heart sings, hugging his little girl back. “Oh I love you.” He coos, controlling himself from smothering her with kisses so she doesn’t cry from beard burn.

You wake up a few hours later, Dante smiles at you like some blood hound who picked up your scent. You just look cute when you’re first waking up, he sees where Lilith gets her wild side, your hair is frizzy and you look a little bleary. “Hi…” You murmur, accepting his eager affection, “Hi gorgeous.” He hums, giving your hips a squeeze. “Hello to you too Lili.” You rub under her chin, she tosses her arms out at you, Dante hands her over and she snuggles you. “How come you get to be her favorite?” Dante pouts. “Cause I carried her for nine months, right baby? My little womb leech.” You pat her back, she shrieks like she’s agreeing. “Yeah thats right.” You nod and hum. “What a pair.” He chides, throughly endeared.

Lilith gets set down for her nap shortly after. Dante washes and you dry, the baby monitor set on the counter.

“She’ll be walking any day now y’know.”

“So?”

“So, I think she should be able to defend herself.”

“What… She’s a baby Dante, the house is baby proofed enough don’t you think?”

“Not like that.” He pauses, setting a soapy bowl down. “ I mean for when she’s older, swordsmanship, shooting, self defense.” He says for once serious in a way you don’t often see. “Dante…” You interject, unsure on how you feel about the subject. “No, I’m serious, there’s a lotta creeps out there! She’s gorgeous, gets it from you, and God knows I was running down the block trying to get your attention, imagine the guys when she’s older!” He flails his arms dramatically, splashing you with soap, you flinch away from the suds and he sheepishly smiles at you. You sigh, understanding where he’s coming from, “Okay….as long as you train her properly or whatever that means, just make sure she keeps at her fingers and toes.” You wipe a sud from your cheek, Dante smiles at you, he’ll make sure, not matter what, that you two can defend yourselves. He doesn’t want to raise a damsel in distress, mainly because he doesn’t want to deal with any knights in shining armor, but also for peace of mind. “Deal, all tell toes,all ten fingers.” He swears like he’s some innocent boy scout, it’s cute.

Lilith fusses and you can hear it on her monitor, “I think she agrees.” Dante smiles at you, kissing the side of your head. He shuffles to go deal with her, he jokes a lot about the two of you being a pair, but it’s not true, the three of you are a family, through and through.

dividers by @uzmacchiato

[moralesispunk]

thinking about massaging simon riley's hands

he doesn't tell you how much they ache, especially now he's retired and his distractions aren't so much life and death on the field but rather having dinner ready for you getting home from work because he doesn't want you to worry about it, but his hands and wrists start to ache as he stirs the pot.

he doesn't need to tell you, though, because you notice. you notice how he squeezes and flexes his right hand on his lap as he holds his fork in his left. how his hand starts to shake but he plays it off by placing his fork back down in the bowl and reaching for the water. how he rolls his wrist after lifting the dirty dishes over to the sink but hides it under the soapy water as you reach for a dish towel.

he thought he was playing it off well, but it's not until later when you're watching tv before bed and your legs are stretched across his lap and his hand is on your thigh. you reach for it, at first only taking it between two of yours before you then start to massage it in a way you found from a quick google while you were changing out of your work clothes.

at first there is a slight tinge of pain that has him silently wincing, but the pain becomes and ache before it... he looks down at his hand. the constant dull ache that doesn't leave, it's not gone but it could be ignored. he turns to the tv and watches the reality tv he pretends to hate but becomes enthralled in, and he can ignore it when usually it would be taking up at least 50% of his thoughts.

the next night you come into the living room with a hand cream, one you bought on your lunch that "smells nice" you tell him, rubbing it into your own hands as though it was for you and not well researched during your morning at work and bought on your break for the sole purpose of simon. you put some more on your hands before massaging simon's hands again, this time the effects lasting long enough that he can fall asleep with a dull ache easily ignored.

it becomes part of your nightly routine now as you wind down, whether in front of the TV or tucked into bed, whether you're both having a good day or bad, whether you've just made love or argued over something small that put you both in a huff, you'll spend time massaging his hands until the pounding ache becomes dull

and it's funny, simon thinks, this very physical ache dulling from your touch the same way all of the pains inside of him subside when you're near

[heartyluv]

hey jay!!

i have a fluffier request for any lads guy you want. how would (lads guy of your choice) react to a partner with chronic illness? like pots, eds, cfs, or something like that

you write the lads men so well!!! both for the spicier and fluffier stuff i feel like you capture their characters really well. i love reading your stuff :)

dont feel pressured to if you're busy or that topic makes you uncomfortable though! have a nice day!!!

Note: I did a good amount of research into POTS before I decided to take on writing about it. It was important to me that I understood it to the best of my abilities so that it was written as accurately as possible. Thank you luvly, for trusting me to handle a topic like this. I was originally going to choose Zayne—for obvious reasons—but Sylus just clicked in the end for me. I hope I’ve done this well. ♡

Warning: I don’t exactly know if this needs any or how to list them if it does. But, please proceed to read with caution!

Creds to @/roseraris for the divider!

Sylus/Reader

Your messy apartment was starting to get to you in ways it never has before. From the mountain of dishes to the loads of laundry piling up in your room, you decided that there was no excuse anymore for it to stay like this.

You believe that your boyfriend’s absence is the reason for this, though. Sylus has become your sole motivation when it comes to you doing literally anything, since you two got together. While you know that completing certain tasks is more beneficial for you than it is him, you love how much he praises and loves on you for taking care of things you initially felt were too challenging to accomplish.

And because he’s been gone for almost three weeks now on a trip to handle some business, it’s been getting more and more difficult to do the things you do on a daily basis. You’re not embarrassed to say that he’s become your clutch.

But he’s supposed to return soon, and you refuse to let him feel sorry for you or be disappointed because you let it get to this point. So, you choose your favorite playlist and your best speaker, scrolling through your list of songs so that you can get to work.

It’s as you search that you feel a heat flash and a sudden wave of dizziness. I just need to drink some water and I’ll be fine, you tell yourself. You refuse to be deterred for any reason. You even turn your central air conditioning on so that you don’t overheat when you get into the groove, attempting to tackle all the things that could contribute to forcing you to stop.

You start with the kitchen, getting the dishes nice and soapy before watching all of it be rinsed off by the warm water. It’s the satisfying scene of an empty sink and the fresh smell of your favorite dish soap lingering that makes it all worth it in the end.

You reorganize and clean out the fridge, clean behind it as well as the stove, and you even scrub the cabinets and cupboards. With the kitchen done, even though you had your moments of feeling lightheaded, it wasn’t too bad. You kept yourself hydrated and tried to operate in moderation, despite the motivation coursing through you.

Little did you know, your body was experiencing all these symptoms at a higher intensity because you were beginning to experience your first flare up.

You had only recently been diagnosed with POTS, so you were still navigating how to accurately pinpoint symptoms and their correlations. Since it’s a syndrome and there are so many side effects that differentiate for every individual, it got difficult at times to figure out what was a flare up or something unrelated.

When you told Sylus about it, he became attentive in a way you’ve never experienced before. He was at every appointment, constantly researching vitamins and supplements to make sure you get the proper daily intake, and he’s even gone as far as communicating with your doctor directly to have all the knowledge he needs to efficiently help you in any way that he can.

When you learned that you could have flare ups, you thought that if you just followed a certain regimen and didn’t do certain things, that you’d be fine. The thought of it honestly slipped your mind since you’ve never had one yet.

But typically, flare ups require a trigger and even with preventative measures, your body will always react to something, no matter how hard you tried to ensure it wouldn’t.

And right now, as you constantly bend down to throw dirty clothes into the washer, along with the mix of the exertion you put yourself through with your other tasks, your body was overheating in a way that was noticeably slowing you down.

A sudden sharp pain between your shoulder blades sparked, making you wince. That dizziness now turned into nausea and it felt impossible to stand. But you didn’t want to stop, because if you stopped, you didn’t know when or how soon you’d come back to this. You couldn’t deal with that failure.

Almost like he could feel your pain and struggles, your phone rang, interrupting the blaring pop song. You fished it out of your pocket to see the picture of you and Sylus taking over your screen. Disconnecting your phone from the bluetooth device, you put it on speaker and set it down as you forced the rest of your clothes into the machine.

“Are you alright?” his deep voice rumbles.

Your eyebrows furrowed before you called out to answer. He asked like he knows for a fact that you aren’t, but you don’t want to worry him. “I’m fine, babe. Are you? How’s your trip so far? I was planning on calling you later, actually.”

“I was until I received a notification about your sudden increase in heart rate and blood pressure levels. And you sound fatigued.”

“Notification?” You stop what you’re doing, feeling a sudden shortness of breath as your eyes narrowed with foggy vision.

“The ring I gave you a week after your diagnosis,” he clarifies. “I had technology installed in it so that I would be able to monitor your vitals no matter where I am, so even when you aren’t paying attention, I always will be.”

So he wasn’t just magically able to tell something was wrong. He could see it. “How did you put—”

“None of that matters,” he interrupts. “I don’t like when you lie to me, especially about something like this. And I need you to stop whatever you’re doing. I’ve instructed Luke and Kieran to come by until I arrive later on today to keep an eye on you and to assist you with anything else you need.”

“You’re coming home?” you say excitedly. But you have to retract that joy just a little bit when you feel a rapid thumping in your chest. In and out, slow breaths, you say in your mind.

“I’m on my flight now, and when I get to you, I’m taking you to see my personal doctor that I have on call at all times until your primary physician’s office opens tomorrow since they’re closed today.”

“Sy, I don’t want the twins to see my apartment right now,” you say softly, unable to think straight as a small headache begins to bloom in your temples. “Besides, I just need to sit down. I don’t need any doctor. I’m fine—“

“You’re not fine. You’re experiencing a flare up and I can assume that between your body overheating from whatever it is that you’ve done and with the things I’m seeing right now on my screen, if you do not listen to me, you will fall unconscious.”

“It’s that serious?” you bite your nail with uncertainty and guilt. He was doing more to keep you safe than you were. It felt embarrassing.

“It is. Please listen to me, sweetie.” Sylus never says please, so you know that to not only protect yourself, to give him peace of mind, you have to sit your ass down. “They will be there in thirty minutes and don’t be concerned with the state of your apartment. There is no judgment and you are far more important than any mess. Drop everything you’re doing, drink water—little sips so that you don’t overwhelm your body—and lay down until they get there.”

You nod, even if he can’t see it. “I’ll sit down. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m telling you, kitten. Stay on the phone with me until they get there.”

He effectively distracts you, telling you about things he wants to do with you when you’re feeling better. You still feel lightheaded and that pain is still in your upper back and head, but it’s significantly decreased.

“They’ve arrived. Can you stand to open the door?”

“I can,” you assure. “I love you, baby. Thank you for helping me.”

“It’s what I do best. Now, let me in.”

You freeze in your process of standing. “Let you in?”

His silence makes you throw the phone down, and you wish you could run to the door, but your body is so tired that you couldn’t. You opt for a brisk walk, and when you see your beautiful man smiling softly at you with the twins by his side and the person you assume to be his personal doctor after you swung the door open, you feel an overwhelming amount of love.

“You lied to me!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck as his went around your waist. He chuckles, dollar signs swimming around the sexy tone.

“I had to so that you didn’t get overly excited about my return. Had to keep you stable.” He kisses your neck. “Let’s get you inside so you can be evaluated.”

So much appreciation takes over you as everyone comes inside, the twins frantically looking over you with concern before Sylus tells them to finish what you started. The doctor converses with you for a little bit, the older man’s demeanor gentle and caring as he goes to check your blood pressure while Sylus briefly explains important details.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect and attentive family. They’re the only people in this world that you would choose in this life and any after, over and over again.

[companioncute]

Jupiter’s finest lunar destination!

Pairing: Mark Grayson x fem!alien!reader

Summary: You hail from the icy tunnels of Jupiter’s smallest Galilean moon, Europa, and have, since being brought to planet Earth, engaged in a relationship with one Mark Grayson.

Cw: scientific mumbo jumbo about an alien life form that’s definitely not viable, reader described as humanoid but orca-like in appearance, making out naked

Tw: none

You spend most of your days in a hot tub that’s been placed in your quarters at the Guardians Headquarters in Utah. Long hours are spent with you soaking in the steaming water, turning the bluish tint to your skin a flushed violet from the heat—a previously foreign concept to you.

The icy tunnels and caverns that make up your home are a distant memory here on Earth, no longer scorching the hardened skin of your soles or burning your patterned skin. No, Jupiter’s Europa seems a faraway dream, swapped for the leisurely days you spend on Earth.

Mark kneels by the side of your tub, running a soapy rag across the smooth skin of your legs.

“You’re kind of like a killer whale,” he murmurs in admiration. Your skin is smooth, smoother than that of a human, and constantly moist. “Or a mermaid maybe, but with legs.”

Legs, yes. Optimal for diving into the water below the icy crust, filtering through the relatively warmer water with your webbed extremities for hours until your strong lungs burn for more oxygen than what you can take in through your skin and gills.

It had been an accident. A practice fight between Invincible and Allen had broken them through the surface and crashed them into the icy currents below, and in the dark, you’d mistaken them for food—only to find out that you were no longer the only apex predator present.

Which brings you to where you are now, lavishly splayed out in a tub of borderline boiling water. It burns in a way you’ve never experienced prior to Earth, previously having relied on your thick skin and the dense layer of muscle underneath to keep you warm. Your eyes—pitch black, the sclera rarely visible—blink open to stare up at Mark, their size deceptively large as they blend in with the black markings around your eyes.

Mark is your monogamous life-partner. He’d clumsily explained to you the concepts of a life-partner (boyfriend) and of binding contracts (marriages) that seem to dominate humans’ approach to sexual relationships. A foreign concept to you, but one you enjoy very much. You like having Mark to yourself, even if his skin is hairy and dry, if his irises are eerily small, and if his digits are long and agile with no webbing in between them whatsoever.

Well, all humans look like that, you suppose. Still, you struggle to get used to their appearance, much like a human might struggle to not shiver at a large spider.

Back home on Europa, your kind (an ancient name that humans can’t pronounce—closer to a musical note than to an actual word) live as polygamous creatures to ensure the survival of your species. On Earth, survival is much easier, thus emphasizing the importance of companionship and emotional connection.

“In water,” you murmur, reaching up to tug on Mark’s sleeve. “Join.”

English doesn’t come easy to you, but you’re a devoted learner (and Mark is an eager teacher).

“I won’t fit,” Mark laughs softly, running the rag up your strong, finned leg. “This is just for you.”

You shake your head, tugging again.

“Mark. Join.”

A string of soft-spoken words in your native language leave your lips and you smile, awkwardly baring two rows of interlocking, conical teeth.

“Baby,” he laughs softly. He likes calling you that, and even if you don’t see the point in the pet name (you have a perfectly good name, even if he struggles to pronounce it), you enjoy the sound of his tender voice. In moments like these, you’re thankful for your ears being able to capture the sound waves in the air. They’re just little holes in your skin, after all, hidden by large white spots just behind your eyes.

“Please,” you murmur, surprising yourself by your mildness.

He gives you a look before sighing and shrugging off his shirt, revealing more of the pinkish human skin you’ve grown so accustomed to lately. After undressing, he crawls over the edge of the tub and squeezes down between your legs.

“You take up quite a bit of space, y’know,” he chuckles, settling his warm hands on both your knees.

“Stronger,” you respond confidently, though you’re not sure it’s actually true. You’re physically larger than Mark, yes, built to withstand higher pressure and lower temperatures, but you’ve seen what he can do.

“Very,” he says with a warm smile, running his hands up your thighs.

“Kiss,” you speak softly, almost shy at your own request. Heavy petting for mating is a concept that transcends cultures, yet kissing is something that doesn’t quite exist where you’re from.

“As you wish,” Mark laughs softly, leaning in over you to plant a soft kiss on your split-colored lips. One of his hands rests on the bottom of the tub, submerged in the water to stabilize his weight, while the other comes up to cup your smooth jaw. He parts your lips with his, capturing your bottom lip with a playful nip.

Your top lip curls back in a snarl instinctually, though you quickly suppress the panic arising in you. Recognizing that Mark still won’t harm you, you relax your jaw as you lean into the kiss. A quiet exhale leaves you as you sink into the water, Mark following suit. Tentatively, you lick into Mark’s mouth like he’s done to you many times, your rib-edged pink muscle brushing against his own, smaller tongue.

Long, flat fingers run up his neck, awkwardly sliding across his scalp. You can’t run your fingers through his hair like you’ve seen in the movies he’s shown you, the webbing between your digits proving to be an obstacle. You bare your teeth in another awkward but sweet smile before pressing a wet kiss to the tip of his nose (oftentimes you wonder how humans kiss each other comfortably when their noses are as protruding as they are—unlike your kind’s blunt snouts).

He laughs softly, pressing another kiss back at your snout. Mark doesn’t mind your oddities. If anything, he finds them endearing.

It must run in the family, he thinks with a warm smile.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

thinking about SPENCER REID taking care of you while you’re sick:

gn!reader, ~ 550 words — fluff/ comfort

nude mention, but no descriptions and no other meaning behind being naked (he helps reader bathe)

Taking care of people is something Spencer does naturally. It’s something he no longer has to think about, all responses and actions coming from a place of memory – muscle memory. He’s used to looking after others, his sick mom giving him all the tools to do so. It’s neither one of their faults really, just the way things go. 

But with his past and present caregiver-like self, he’s become a pro at mending people when sick – only this time, it’s you. The sick bug you caught, making it near impossible to do anything by yourself. 

Spencer had put in for some personal time off, asking Hotch if he could stay home to look after you – even if you only had the small bug that’s going around. Aaron was often lenient when it came to personal days, always giving them permission on the spot, no questions asked; and for Reid, he was granted a week at home with you. 

Spencer was a dear with it all, like he always is. And though, he’s now fine at managing the thought of the bugs and germs and contamination, he’s not exactly jumping at the idea of squishing his face into yours. He wants to keep close, but not too close.

You’ve practically been bed bound for the last couple of days, surrounded by your own sickness – half drunk cups of tea on the nightstand and snotty, crumpled tissues becoming one with the sheets. You knew it was disgusting, but again, you were far too sick. And while you were aware of how gross you were feeling –unshowered skin and three day old pyjamas fuzing to you– you had no strength to do anything about it.

The painkillers you took with your few spoonfuls of soup and bites of bread at lunch were beginning to kick in, and you found yourself wanting to utilise that small spark of energy and feel clean again. 

Spencer was in the living room, keeping an eye on you through the open door as he did some reading – waiting to be of help to you. And though he offered his care freely, without any requirement of reciprocation, you couldn’t help but feel like you were abusing his help. So to give him a break, you attempted to run a bath yourself – almost hobbling across the room into the bathroom.

That independence only lasts so long before Spencer is rushing up on you from behind, catching up as a means to keep you stable. And while you brushed off his worries and concerns, telling him you had it covered, it still wasn’t enough – he wanted to do it for you. 

So he guides you to the toilet, silently asking you to sit on the lid as he rinses and runs the bath, filling the tub with hot water and bubbles – adjusting it to your liking in which he has memorised. Before long, he’s helping you out of your sweat-covered pyjamas and into the bath, the act solely caring; nothing else, no other meaning behind his glances or touches.

And as you immerse yourself amongst the warm, soapy bubbles, relishing the feeling on your skin once again, Spencer takes a seat on the mat beside the tub – rolling his sleeves and making himself comfortable. Waiting patiently to help you wash, keeping you company in the meantime.

yeah it’s post prison reid and hotch still works at the bau. what about it?

[yukiiisx]

Hii I hope you’re doing great💗 can I request a home-spa date with Gojo? Like a whole one-shot of reader coming home exhausted as hell and Gojo surprising her with a bath and like a massage? Thank u!!💗💗

A/N: HEY ANON SORRY FOR POSTING LATE, i'll be more active now. thanks for this request i liked writing this n hope u like it too.

warnings: princess treatment, fluff

wc: 771 words

You let out a sigh and rub your temples as you enter the lift. Work was brutal this week, your boss gave you deadlines one after the other, leaving you with no rest and sleepless nights, thank god it was finally friday and hopefully a peaceful weekend.

The lift opened with a ding and your heels clacked as you walked over to your shared penthouse with Satoru and lightly knock on the door.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Satoru in a loose white t-shirt and gray joggers, a soft grin tugging his lips,"Took you long enough, princess." He said and stepped aside for you to enter,"Rough day?"

"You have no idea." You said sighing, taking off your heels at the side, replacing them with slippers.

"Perfect." Satoru said grinning,"I've got a surprise for you, baby."

You arch your brow at his smile,"Surprise?"

"Follow me." He said as he walked deeper into your shared penthouse. The lights were dimmed to a golden glow and you could smell lavender and vanilla in the air. You both entered the bathroom.

The bathtub was filled with soapy water with bubbles rising at the top with rose petals, a bottle of wine kept on top of the table with 2 glasses, chocolate covered strawberries on the plate and doritos on the side.

"Ta-da!" He said playfully extending his arms to point at the setup,"Welcome to Satoru's spa."

“Doritos?” you asked, holding back a smile as you looked at him.

"Hey- no judgement. Even luxury spas need snacks, yknow?" He said folding his arms,"I just thought- you work so hard. I wanted tonight to be about you."

"This is perfect, Satoru." You said leaning closer to him, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He beamed like a kid who has been handed candy to him.

"Now, there's your robe. I'll be doing everything tonight, foot massage, shoulder massage, rubs." He said, counting the words on his fingers. When you returned he was sat on the stool, dramatically rolling up his sleeves.

When you slid your robe off and entered the bath, the warmth hit you almost instantly, the scent of vanilla tickled your nose and you poked your feet out.

Satoru handed you a glass of wine,"Only for my favourite customer." You took a sip from the glass and hummed,"This is the best spa I've ever been too."

"Yes ma'am. We only give VIP treatment to our customers." Satoru said in a faux professional tone, as his hands began massaging your shoulders skillfully, every rub almost erasing the tension from your shoulders.

You closed your eyes softly as his hands worked on your shoulders, rubbing your neck too, eliciting a soft sigh from you,"Oh fuck wow, Satoru." He rubbed it a few more times before you spoke up again.

"I think I'm ready for that foot massage."

He held a fluffy towel in his hand,"Ma'am this is a five star establishment, you don't have to ask." He moved to massage your feet,"Oh, I almost forgot."

He clicked on a remote kept near him, as you instantly recognise it, it was a playlist of your favourite soft songs. He began rubbing your calves, pressing hardly on it and slowly moved down to your soles his hands expertly working on it.

He soon wrapped his fingers around your toes which erupted a giggle from you,"This feels a bit weird, Satoru."

"That's just how you think, Ma'am." He said again and you giggled a bit loudly this time,"Aren't you a bit tired?"

"Are you doubting me, ma'am? I'm sure you know how excellent my hands are?" He said, looking over at you with a teasing grin and you laughed,"Doubt you? Neverrr"

You took one strawberry and ate it,"Soo how long did it take for you to do this?"

Satoru looked proudly at you,“Not long. Just had to raid the bathroom cabinet, YouTube a couple of massage tutorials, and borrow some of your fancy oils.”

You snorted,"YouTube? I'm impressed."

"I really wanted you to relax today, you do work and take care of me, thought it was my turn today." He said softly, rubbing your feet on the fluffy towel.

"You know this means much more than you think it does. Thank you."

"It's my duty to serve you, ma'am." Satoru said, speaking like a professional again as you laughed again gulping the rest of your wine and lay your head back. You softly closed your eyes again, listening to the background music.

You don't know when you drifted to sleep, but you wake up in the morning in your bedroom with Satoru curled up by your side.

-----

Taglist: @gojhoes @satorusaysiloveyou

[ken-dom]

Stay Quiet, Stay Near, Stay Close

Colt Seavers x gn!reader

2.2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: You help Colt unwind with a hot bath and a massage.

Can be read as a part two to my previous Colt fic or can be standalone.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I don’t know what it is about Colt Seavers (particularly with long hair) that makes me desperately want to soothe him via handjob but here you have the second version of exactly that — unlikely to be the last! @heresthestorymorningglory was my partner in crime as usual and gave me the perfect Colt song for the title, from Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: nsfw, hot bath, hair washing, massage, handjob, praise, crying, before during and aftercare!! Long hair Colt!

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Even beneath the shimmering softness of warm, soapy bath water, Colt’s body lays heavily against yours as he sinks further into your safe, massaging hands.

With your legs either side of his waist and his back to your chest, you can feel every breath he takes, slow and steady. It’s kind of like a physical meditation that soothes you from the outside in, and you wonder how heavy you’ve become, too, while you’ve been soothing his aches away.

His head rests, lolling in the crook of your neck with long damp strands of blonde sticking to your flesh among the rising steam, slightly darker where the tips have met the water.

Kneading the flesh at his broad shoulders in a soothing rhythm, you bite your lip to resist the urge to let your fingers wander. You want to slide them further down his muscular arms and caress those firm contours, but that would be purely for your own pleasure and this is about Colt.

You can’t quite see his face from here, just a glimpse of his handsome profile out of the corner of your eye, but you can hear the infrequent little catches of breath and feel the way he tenses up for a moment every time he bites back a moan.

You can see the rest of his body clearly enough though, golden in the warmth of the candlelight. His slowly rising and falling chest, his knees protruding from beneath the bubbles where his legs are spread, feet planted firmly beside yours. And you can see the way his body is reacting to your touch; as your eyes drag over his form again, you notice his fingers tighten their grip around the rim of the bathtub.

‘Huhng-’ he grunts, knuckles turning white.

‘Sorry,’ you breathe, withdrawing your fingers and gradually resuming the more measured pace you’d set before letting yourself get carried away with his big strong arms carrying you and the way his muscles might flex as he touches you, and accidentally pressed your thumbs just a little too sharply into his shoulders.

‘S’alright,’ he slurs, dropped against you again, far too relaxed to bother much about separating words unnecessarily. ‘Felt good.’

Oh.

Despite sharing a hot bathtub, your naked bodies pressed together under hot, steamy water, you’re very aware that you’re here because you’re trying to help him relax, to ease his pain and hopefully to get a good night’s sleep. But the way your body reacted to those two innocent words that dripped off his tongue like warm honey — Felt good —  isn’t exactly conducive to focussing solely on Colt’s shoulder tension.

You close your eyes and recompose yourself.

‘You… want me to do that again?’ you offer, hands hovering, and Colt nods his approval with a quiet hum.

Watching his hands closely, you dig the pads of your thumbs firmly above his shoulder blades, loosening the knots you can feel there with a little more force than before. You feel him jolt as you work them out, and see his knuckles turn white again as his fingers grip the edge of the tub.

And you hear him moan.

Oh no.

You know Colt’s moans exceptionally well. They’re always so loud and unrestrained, and you’re surprised he’s lasted this long through a massage without one or two escaping until now. No mistake, you want to hear them – of course you do! But you’re not sure how good of a job you’ll make of soothing him for a restful night when all you can think about is the way he sounds when you pleasure him.

Please him, you correct yourself.

Then again. Perhaps that would help…

You slow the rhythmic circles to a stop. It’s reluctant, but necessary if you’re going to at least attempt to concentrate. You can always return to rubbing steady patterns into his supple flesh as he lays in bed beside you later. With that in mind, you grab the shampoo bottle to move things along.

‘Scalp next, handsome,’ you say softly, mindful that he’s already somewhat of a puddle and the last thing he needs is a bolt of your over-enthusiasm at getting your fingers tangled in his luscious hair.

‘Mmmh,’ he hums, not even bothering to nod this time. He can feel himself melting against you, feel how heavy he must be becoming while he actually feels like he’s floating.

You wonder if washing his hair will finally send him off to sleep and you’ll have to drag him out of the bath after somehow managing to slide yourself out from underneath his burly frame… but whatever. He needs it, it’s working, let him have it. Worry about the rest later, post-hair wash and scalp massage.

You squeeze out a dollop of shampoo, warming it between your palms, sliding your fingers from the nape of his neck and up, deliberate and so sensual that Colt begins to hum again. It’s a little more high pitched this time. Whiny.

He shivers against you, skin prickling with tingles, and with some effort, he lifts his head to allow you the space to continue exactly what you’re doing. Don’t stop, he thinks, but he isn’t sure how to say it out loud. Maybe he is saying it? He can’t quite tell. It doesn’t matter. You’re not stopping. He knows you won’t stop as long as he needs it. 

A low groan drags from his throat, though, head as heavy in your hands now as his torso feels against yours, and his hair tangles around your fingers as they drag, slow and mesmerising, over his scalp. Another little moan.

You allow your eyes to drag over what you can see of his body again. As a treat. The way the light dances on the contours of his chest, those husky arms, the tip of his thick cock appearing from beneath the bathwater…

Oh.

‘B-blended… ice…’

You’re brought back to your senses by Colt’s incoherent muttering, realising that your fingernails are scraping quite harshly against his scalp, but he mustn’t mind it too much because there’s still a low groan lacing his stuttered words.

‘Spicy…’

Margaritas. He’s putty in your hands, achingly hard, and muttering about margaritas. 

This is the man you adore. And he needs you.

You rinse the shampoo away as best you can at this angle, and reach for the conditioner, squeezing a helping onto your palm.

‘Wanna make margaritas later?’ he drawls. It's the most coherent he’s sounded since insisting that you use the neroli and amber bath bubbles he likes, but that was before climbing into the tub and immediately melting, mind and body, against you.

Even Colt isn’t sure where his question came from because all he can think about now is how he wants your hands, soft, clever, precise hands, between his thighs now instead. Another question he isn’t sure how to translate from hazy thought to speech. But margaritas, sure. That appears out of nowhere.

Maybe he isn’t sleepy at all but just… zen? Random thoughts he matches up with feeling close to you spilling out while he feels safe enough to let them?

‘I think we can stretch to margaritas if you’re not too relaxed to sit up,’ you appease him.

‘Mmh. I’ll manage.’

‘You sure about that?’

You finally allow a hand to glide down over his chest, soft from the steam, and rest it at his belly where the water gently laps against your movements.

Your breath catches in your throat at how firm he feels under your palm, the way he trembles just slightly as your hand travels lower. The way he whines.

His breath catches at the exact same moment; your touch sending tingles coursing down to his core. The hazy air thickens in the split second that you both freeze, and he grits his teeth, seeming to regain some coherence now you’re doing exactly what he wanted. Kind of embarrassing though, right? To get a hardon from a scalp massage and the way your fingers pulled at the long strands in the process…

‘Was kinda hoping you wouldn’t notice.’

‘Pretty hard not to,’ you reply under your breath, but he hears you and you can practically feel his smirk. ‘You know, I’ve heard that hair conditioner has some excellent… other uses.’

‘Oh?’

You slide your other arm around his waist, revealing your palmful of the silky product.

‘Trust me?’

‘Yeah-hhhnnng-’

Your fingers close around his length, conditioner-covered palm coating the half of him visible above the water. He shifts to reveal more and you begin to stroke, long and slow, kneading lightly, just as you had with his aching muscles.

But it’s easier to massage with the addition of this impromptu aid, the thick, glossy liquid allowing your hand to glide over his skin with ease.

‘Feel good?’ You press your mouth to his neck, keeping the pace of your slicked up hand steady as your tongue slips from between your lips and drags over the sensitive flesh, lips closing now and again to nip at his skin and feel him shudder.

His cock twitches inside your grip, strong enough that you can feel it begging you to jerk him faster before his blissed out brain catches up and he moans, ‘Please- please-’

He’s bucking his hips enough that the gentle lapping of the water escalates to loud sloshing against the sides of the tub and hot, scented water splashes over onto the floor, steaming puddles quickly cooling against the tiles.

Every laboured breath Colt takes in is exhaled laced with a grunt or a low whimper, echoing around the room and surrounding you both with the sounds of his pleasure. It’s turning desperate though, and you don’t want him desperate. You want him to enjoy the journey, ride it out with nothing but bliss.

‘Shhh,’ you soothe him, working the heel of your other palm over his shoulder again as you stroke his cock in the same rhythm. ‘It’s ok. Tell me what you need.’

The combination of the soothing touch at his shoulder and the electric touch lower down – the one setting something ablaze in his gut – is driving Colt wild.

You can feel it radiating from his pores and don’t require a verbal response to decipher what he needs. He needs exactly this, until he doesn’t anymore. And then he’ll need you.

‘You need to cum, don’t you, baby? Is that it?’

Colt’s head drops back against your shoulder, heavy again as the tension that’s been coiling, hot in his gut, subsides with the increased speed of your hand and the languid swipes of your thumb over his steadily leaking tip.

He manages a low hum, and you don’t push it. You could carry on, slow your hand back down and force him to use words, to beg, before you’ll allow his release. But that’s not the point of this, and it’s not what you want. You want him sated and comforted and safe. 

‘It’s alright, let go for me,’ you coo, and without a beat, he does, a thick creamy rope splattering up over his chest and dripping down, mingling into the bath water.

A growl tears from his throat as his peak hits, tapering off into a weak little whimper, and he slumps, his weight almost crushing you if it wasn’t for the small volume of water still in the tub with you. Colt wonders if you’ll notice the tears dropping into it.

You do, but you say nothing. In another position, you’d have wiped his cheeks, so instead you file it away.

You manage to release the bath plug with your foot, letting the water drain as you hoist him forward and upward, clumsily reaching around for a jug of fresh, warm water to rinse the both of you off. Untangling your bodies, already sweaty from shared heat, you climb out and wrap yourself and then him in a fluffy towel and help him climb out of the tub.

Colt’s legs feel wobbly, and his head is spinning a little as his blood finds its way back from his core to his extremities. The heat of the water he’s been soaking in for probably too long isn’t doing much to help matters. He feels woozy, but still safe.

Before he knows it, you’ve dried him off, guided him onto his bed, plumped his pillows to support his back, and slipped his favorite joggers on for him. He can’t remember if he saw you bothering with underwear, and he doesn’t care. He can feel aftershocks in his soft cock, and it’s reassuring, somehow.

You realise as you sit on the edge of the bed that you didn’t actually condition his hair. You’re careful not to cause any knots where it’s still wet as you brush through it for him. It doesn’t matter. Next time, you will, if the feel or smell of it doesn’t get him too excited and distract you both again.

Colts whole body feels incredibly silky against the fabrics, and he can’t remember ever feeling quite this good as he wriggles against the sheets, settling in. 

‘Still want that margarita?’ you tease, and with his eyelids too heavy to keep open now, he just huffs a gentle laugh and lets sleep wash over him.

[deafsignifcantother]

alastor just being weird

♥ summary: alastor wanting you solely for the fact that you smell delightful so he starts searching your room ♥ relationships: alastor x [deaf] woman reader, deafness not a major point ♥ word count: 600 ♥ notes: reader wears makeup, she likes photography, she also doesn't really gaf about alastor being snoopy and weird LOLZ

Now that you're not in here, he can look around. He's welcomed himself into your empty room, eyes roaming everywhere except the attached bathroom, of course. He's immoral but not indecent. Where should he even start?

As the hotelier, it is his job to meet and make the guests comfortable. To be able to do that, he needs to know more about you, which is out of kindness and does not relate to how good you smell or how he would enjoy making you his next meal, most be mistaken.

Your dresser's drawers are a good start.

Just a standard assortment of socks and underwear, some salacious as any demon would have, neatly arranged. One pair of fishnets, a small collection of photos, a camera, a notebook. Do you always keep things like this? Or did you develop a new habit after the sudden move-in. He is hoping to find a clue as to who you are, and notebooks have saved him a lot of times before. He lightly picks it up and flips it open. Blank pages. Do you write in invisible ink? His claws finger through the pages one at a time before he bends them and watches them fly by. There's nothing.

He's wasting time. He places it back and lifts up the photos. The red sky above. One is a long shot of the pentagram with the Hazbin Hotel in the center.

In the next drawer there are no clothes, only a single makeup bag and accessories. Mismatched earrings, it seems you have a habit of losing one of every pair and then stashing them away—in case you find the other?

Alastor opens the drawer closest to the ground. Empty except for what he can only guess is a miscellaneous drawer. The brush smells like you from the multiple hair strands wrapped around it. His nose twitches; how delightful. He reaches for it slowly, brain rocking back and forth in his skull. But by the time he grips the handle, it's too late to stop. The bristles meet his nose, and he takes a whiff, savoring the pleasant fragrance that fills his lungs. He puts it back before he gets carried away.

Your room has a lovely and quite large wooden wardrobe. As he expected, when he opens it, there is space needing to be filled. His smile twitches at the soft gust of your smell; the scent assaults his hunger.

His index claw drags down a long sleeve, wrapping around the material and bringing it up to his nose. Even when clean, you've corrupted the cotton.

The moment the door opens, he fades into the shadows. He stands before the bathroom door as you step out in a robe, fresh out of the shower. It's the robe he gifted you, a welcome gift. He'll never tell you it's for capturing the soapy aroma of your wet body.

You look behind him, eyes flickering back. His smile tightens. Ah, he left the wardrobe's door open.

Alastor straightens his suit, shoulders a bit taut from embarrassment. He makes a show of brushing off his sleeves while you stand in the same place; the weight of your stare makes him sweat. "Well, my dear, I'm afraid I must be off, one can't even imagine the things I'm busied with!"

He looks up at you, his monocle hiding one of his eyes, his expression unreadable while he waits for a response. His wavery pupils match the small, excited shake of his hands. He doesn't leave immediately, curious him.

"And 'be off' you may," you walk past him, signing in simple pse to strengthen your point, not acknowledging him further. Your hand rests on the wooden frame, getting a small glance inside the wardrobe before closing it softly. By the time you turn around, Alastor is gone.

[lovelynim]

TickleTober2024/Day 03 - Cleaning

Genshin Impact - Ayato x Thoma

“Frankly, young master, I’d never thought you’d take a liking in such activities,” Thoma chuckled, pushing the towel he was using back inside the bucket filled with soapy water. “I still need to remind you, young master, that you should be careful around the dirt.”

Ayato chuckled, extending his leg to ease his servant’s work. “It’s just mud, Thoma. I think I’ll survive it,” he tilted his head with a playful smile on his lips.

With Thoma kneeling right before the balcony that led to the Kamisato Estate’s garden, Ayato couldn’t help but feel the warmth inside his heart as his servant cleaned the dirt off him. It almost made Ayato forget the embarrassment he felt when he slipped inside a puddle of mud. “But maybe I should, indeed, leave the gardening work to your capable hands.”

Carefully holding Ayato’s leg by his ankle, Thoma rubbed the towel around Ayato’s calf and shin, going all the way from Ayato’s knee down to his ankle. “Allow me to instruct you next time, young master,” Thoma muttered, shifting to Ayato’s other leg, “for now, let’s get you a little cleaner before you go inside and take a proper bath.”

Ayato nodded, placing his hands behind him to support his body as he waited for Thoma to finish him. Thoma’s touch was almost comforting, relaxing even. The damp tower gently caressing his skin, freeing his body from the dirty sensation. 

That, at least, lasted until Thoma brought his attention to Ayato’s feet.

“A-ah, Thoma, wahait-”

“I already know what you’re going to say, young master,” Thoma chuckled, keeping a firm grip around Ayato’s heel to prevent him from pulling his foot away, “but I can’t allow you to leave dirt footprints around the clean house.”

“B-but- ahaha!” Ayato giggled, pressing his eyes shut while covering his smiling lips with his hand. He should have expected this. It was always like this.

Even when helping him after or during his baths, Thoma would always sneak this kind of play in the middle of the ‘cleaning’. Ayato, for some reason, always allowed himself to fall into this trap again and again.

Thoma rubbed the towel against Ayato’s sole, making sure to not let his master escape. “I-I cahan clehehean myself thehere!” Ayato whined, trying to reach out to Thoma’s hand, just to have his own foot pulled out of his reach.

With a smirk on his lips, Thoma wiggled his fingers under the towel, tickling all around Ayato’s foot, from his heel up to under his toes. “I’d be offended, young master, if you forbid me from doing such a simple task. Please, sit still, I’m almost done.”

“Y-you ahahare just tihihickling me, Thomahaha!! ~” Ayato protested, laying back on the balcony and pressing both his hands against his face while laughing. His foot twisted and squirmed inside of Thoma’s grip, but simply couldn’t find a way of freeing itself.

After making sure he got rid of all the dirt, Thoma allowed Ayato to pull his foot away. The noble gasped for air, sprawling around the floor as his body went limp. He revealed his flushed up cheeks, trying to look annoyed despite the wide smile on his face. “W-why do you always do this?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, young master,” Thoma chuckled, damping the towel in the soapy water again, “now, be patient. I still need to clear your other foot ~”

A/N: I still like this pairing a lot and I love this kind of scene, so of course I'd take the chance to write for them in this prompt

I hope you guys liked it and thanks for stopping by!! See you tomorrow with our next prompt ~

[withclawandvine]

continuation of this | barbarian!bakugou, fem reader (wears a dress, referred to as daughter/wife)

when katsuki returns to his tent after washing the grime of travel away in the springs, he is surprised to find you still in your dusty, reeking dress, next to the basin of hammered copper, gently steaming with the water and silky, floral oils he’d ordered for you. 

“i can’t untie the laces,” you admit, voice trembling slightly with frustration or exhaustion. your arms are drawn tightly, protectively, around yourself. and when you quietly ask if he will undo the knot between your shoulder blades, katsuki feels itchy heat bloom on his neck, the tips of his ears.

rough hands finding your elbows, he turns you around, with more speed than entirely necessary. 

“so useless,” he tsks, not for the first time. the journey home had taken twice as long with you as it otherwise would have; you struggled to mount your own horse, and didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire or how to cook over it. 

“if you really thought that,” you murmur, peeking over your shoulder as he fights with the strings, “you wouldn’t have brought me here.” 

you’re looking at him as if you’d just asked a question. 

katsuki is spared from having to answer, because he’s finally managed to unravel the securing knot. your skin is soft and warm against his knuckles when he wedges two fingers between the laces and your spine, tugging the lattice of string loose until the expanse of your back is exposed.

he barely has time to step back, much less exit the tent, before you let it fall in a heap unbefitting of a garment with jewels embroidered on the bodice.

katsuki looks at a patch in the buckskin enclosing you until he hears the soft splash of your body entering the water, a pleased sigh that seems to go through his ears and zip down his spine.

“i didn’t expect you to be so prudish.” for the first time since he met you, you’re smiling a little, and he is alarmed to realize that the poets had been right about you.

the smile is gone in a blink, drooping into a frown the second your eyes land on the wash cloth, folded atop the stack of clean clothes on a stool near the wash basin. making a discernible effort not to look at him, you strain for it. once, twice, your delicate, uncalloused fingers skitter over the fabric. on the third try, you knock it to the ground. 

relieved to no longer be the one who's fumbling, katsuki picks it up for you. “can you wash yourself?” he asks, feeling his mouth curl into a goading smirk. “or do you need my help with that, too?”

you snatch the cloth from him, with a haughty look that makes it impossible to forget your patrimony. “but it’s clear you need my help with something.”

for centuries, his people have struggled against sprawling kingdom below — a growing power that refuses to relinquish control over the narrow pass that serves as the sole line of trade through the formidable northern range, often meeting any tribesman that wanders too close to the laden caravans being shepherded with lethal force.  

“you—” he starts, but loses the words when you roll your head to one side, baring your neck. droplets of soapy water adorn your skin like morning dew.  

“i?” 

“you… are leverage,” he finally says. a harsh truth, but not humiliating to speak aloud. unlike the other stupid, honest thoughts filling his head. 

tales of the proud king and his prize of a daughter had caught katsuki’s attention immediately; all he had to do to foster the first diplomatic tie in the history of your peoples was slay a beast. scarcely a challenge, for an archer such as himself — the greatest his tribe had ever seen.

you nod thoughtfully, kicking a foot out of the frothy water to scrub it from toe to knee. “then i suppose you were right after all.” 

“huh?” katsuki feels a bit dizzy. 

“to call me useless,” you clarify. drawing your leg back, you wrap your arms around yourself, resting your cheek against your knee to look at him. your tone is mild, but there’s something melancholic about the way the candlelight makes your eyes shine, like a star just before winking out of the sky. a tragic beauty, they say, his brain supplies, unbidden. “i’m afraid you may have overestimated my father’s affection for me.” 

in fact, you think he is probably furious; he had intended to trade your hand for access to the nearby island kingdom’s formidable navy, or send you to the east, where precious stones the size of a man’s fist are mined. not to come away with less than what he had to begin with. 

and you couldn’t have been more right: down the mountains and across the plains, the king paced in his war room, surrounded by his most trusted advisors and generals — plotting an assassination.

[thinkerer24]

Omgg idk if this is where we make requests. But i NEED to see a submissive Robby 🧎🏽‍♀️‍➡️🧎🏽‍♀️‍➡️ but no tying up and blindfolding plss

Mhmmm yes anon this IS where you make requests and this is so deLICIOUS I'm watering at the thought.

So like imagine it's after a long day- you're a doctor too but it's at a different hospital (trust me, workplace relationships make things so much worse). You're tired, running around the hospital was fun when you were in your twenties but not when you're pushing 35 and your knees hate you the next morning. The soles of your feet ache; you just know a good warm soak will make it better and you're almost vibrating at the thought of getting your hands on the new bath bomb you'd splurged on-the ones with the special salts that make you feel human again.

You walk into the apartment and all but strip at the front door itself, laundry be damned. You rush to the bathroom and open the door to see an equally tired Robby already half asleep in the porcelain tub, lithe body submerged under suds of pink and grey. His eyes were closed neck bent awkwardly as he snores lightly, mouth agape and tongue poking out. It made you want to rush back out and get your phone to take a picture but unfortunately your movements rouse him and he jerks awake.

"Long day?" You mumble, sitting on the edge of the tub and running your fingers through his soapy hair.

He closes his eyes again and hums, body going more pliant under your gentle touch. You ask him to scooch forward, not an easy task given his height, and he manoeuvres himself so that his legs are bent at the knees and you situate yourself just behind him. Stuck to his slick back, you trace patterns over his freckles, scraping your nails lightly across and watching him shiver despite the warmth of the tub. You press light kisses over his neck, his shoulders, the bumps of his spine, and watch him relax further into your touch, breathing getting heavier. You ask him to lay on you- all your tiredness gone at the sight of your big man so pliant and needy. His back squishes against your tits, your chin draped over his shoulder, as you look down at his beautiful body- that golden Star that shines on his chest, the damp curls that you love to run your fingers over, his chubby belly who you're craving to touch, to kiss. Your hands slide themselves slowly, slowly, downwards, and Robby melts like butter. He's panting by now, making tiny desperate noises at the back of his throat and you shush him gently, hands disappearing beneath the soapy water. Your palm grips his hardening cock in a loose fist, and Robby white knuckles the side of the tub.

"Please, sweetheart, I won't last."

"I know, baby. You're my good boy, aren't you?"

He whines, nodding alongside you, his rough beard rubbing the side of your cheek. You push two fingers of your other hand in his mouth and he sucks, so obedient, without even being told. His lips wrap around your fingers and drool drips down your palm as you increase your pace around his cock.

"You're being so good for me, Robby. This fucking cock-it's mine, isn't it? Yeah? You belong to me, don't you? Say it, baby. Who do you belong to, sweetheart?"

"You, you, only you." He croaks around your fingers. You're making the water splash around you, the frantic motion of jerking him causing the tub to form waves and throw water over the edge but none of you care right now- not when Robby, your Robby, is so close.

"You think you can come for me? Paint my hand with your cum?" You implore, lightly biting his ear and his eyes roll back in his head. He comes with a deafening gasp, mouth parted around your fingers as his chest heaves with effort. His tummy clenches and his hips pump into your fist as you milk him for all he's worth. You keep going until his moans turn into whimpers, and you know he's getting oversensitive. You slowly remove your hand and he hisses, making you chuckle slightly. You kiss his cheek and turn his head to look at you.

"Wanna order takeout?"

[fhrlclln]

i’m sorry but i need angst!

i need qimir and reader angst!

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRoXdYwG/

forlorn | qimir

SUMMARY -> loving him was the hardest thing she has ever done but how does that love go so far when he is so immersed in the darkness?

qimir x fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> angst

WARNINGS -> toxic relationship, arguments, qimir's kinda gives off sadboi vibes in this, slight manipulation? abandonment & hurtful words

WC -> 1.61k

a/n: 🚨warning, pathetic man realizes his girl is going to leave him!! 🚨 LMAOOO. hope you liked this anonz!!

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

your hands feel numb as you scrub away the piece of clothing in your hands.

your heart feels heavy. your washing his dirty robes, the water in the large basin turning red from the blood and grime as you ponder to yourself... why were you still here with him? you scrub hard, the overwhelming emotions threaten to burst out. this was all wrong. why were you washing the clothes of a cold-hearted murderer?

well, you couldn't. you could not leave him even if you desperately wanted to.

drowning in your own thoughts, you don't notice the chaste kiss placed on top of your head when he finally speaks to you. the same hushed and soft tone reserved solely for you.

"your hands are going to bruise, my love." you look up to see him, the man you were thinking of... the one you are thinking of leaving. qimir has a soft smile written across his serene face as he bends down to your crouched level. and those thoughts diminish now. you always fall back to the start when he looks at you like this. like you were the only thing in the world he desires... that he loves. but you have to remember you were not. that was the realization you had to learn when he carelessly put your life in danger that night in khofar.

"the blood won't come off." you say with a plain tone, avoiding his calculating stare. there's a deafening silence between the two of you as if you're both waiting to see who would speak first about what happened. but you hoped, you hoped he wouldn't say anything else because if he did, you don't know what you'll do. you scrub his robe a little harder, dunking it in the soapy water with a splash, and qimir lets out a sigh at your behavior toward him.

"forgiveness is a hard thing to give. that i know." he starts off as if he's starting a lesson for you. "but if we prolong this further, when are we going to move forward, my heart?"

your drop his robe in the basin. "some things aren't meant to be forgiven easily, qimir." you bite back. how dare he tell you to move past this? when your own heart is still in shambles for the pain he had caused. his face drops to a solemn frown, and he seems uncertain what to say, but he opens his mouth nonetheless.

"i don't wish to argue-"

"you left me for dead in that godforsaken forest!" you raised your voice, standing up now as you turned around, picking up the laundry basket to hang outside, wanting to get away from him. damn him and his fucking blood-soaked robe. the salty tears forming in your eyes, threatening to fall down if you look at him one more time. your steps are quick, but qimir still follows you outside.

you shuddered out a shaky breath, calming yourself as you focused on hanging your washed clothes on the clothesline outside the cave. anger consumes you, you feel like you've been betrayed, how the one person in your whole miserable life could carelessly throw you in the hands of the jedi just because of one thing.

power.

another acolyte who he wants, to be able to achieve the one thing you have always heard come out of his mouth. the power of two. the moment when you had come back to this remote planet to see him tending to her, osha, the one he brought back- not you.

you felt like a fool, a fool who continued to be with him against your personal conflict and how dangerous your life had become because of him. you tried to ignore the jealousy you felt when you saw him treating her when you came back all mangled in dirt and cuts from fighting those jedis in khofar. and he dismissed you when you were going to argue how he didn't even try to come back for you. oh, how your pure heart broke into pieces, how uncaring he sounded that day.

you cried for the first time in years, feeling like you've been abandoned by the one man you claimed to yourself you love. the person who accepted you after years of being abandoned by everyone you had cared for. it was getting tiring. you're tired of being tossed away for another. again and again and again-

"i was going to come back for you." he softly said, gauging your reaction as you hung up your clothes. "but, it was too dangerous to come back to the planet. the order would have been there, and all my careful protection would be gone to waste. i know you understand that."

"you have a tasteful way of saying... i'm disposable." you grit your teeth, wanting to throw yourself off the cliff now. "but her? you chose her instead of me to save."

you willed yourself to turn around to face him. he stands there, face as passive as ever. no emotions but just a quiet look of calmness. it irks you how this seems normal to him. were you going to be just another tool at his own expense? to be tossed away every time if he deems so. your mouth quivers, you can't hold back anymore.

"i'm sorry." he says, but you don't feel he's sincere. "i love you."

"this doesn't feel like love anymore, qimir." you shake your head. "i want to leave. you have your acolyte, and i am done being tossed away." you sniffled, wiping away the tears that had already fallen on your cheeks.

his eyes darkened, and he stepped closer to you. "you can't."

"oh, so when osha wants to leave, you let her. but to me, i'm the prisoner?" you glared at him through your watery eyes. his chest rises, you see him fighting back his own emotions. you want him to feel the same hurt you're feeling as you continue to push on.

"you're so desperate to achieve the rule of two, you don't even see what you're doing is hurting the people around you." you say with venom laced in your tone. "i know i cannot be with your goal, osha can, but will she? it's ironic how careless you are to abandon me when you have experienced the same thing from your master. how cruel you are to do it to the person who you claim to love."

his jaw ticks at your words, and you hit a sore spot. you stare into his emotionless eyes, brows furrowing as he doesn't say anything else.

"you don't love me." you quietly said, your own words hurting you. "if you loved me, you wouldn't abandon me when i needed you."

"that is not true." his face contorted to anger. "you have to understand what i said."

"i am tired of understanding you!" you cried, sobbing as you pushed him away, but he caught your wrist before you could shove him back again. "and frankly, i don't understand you, qimir. what is the point of having more power? what do you want from me when I cannot give it to you, but osha can?" your eyes begged for an answer.

"freedom." he merely says, and you scoff.

"when will you be free if the darkness compels you to have more power?" you retort, you never liked this way of the force. "you're obsessed with this. i feel like you're losing yourself for this."

"if it means protecting you with this power, i will gladly do so." he rests his forehead against yours, and you let him, savoring his gentle touch that you know it might be the last. his hands stay on your waist, rubbing up and down to soothe your sobs. "i don't want anything from you... i just want you."

your heart thumps, doubting if you believed him.

"i love you, qimir." you say as his eyes shine with hope. "but i can't do this anymore."

"don't leave me." he begs, sensing that you're serious about leaving him. "i need you with me."

"let me go." you begged back. if he held you in his arms further, you didn't know if your decision to leave would come true. "please."

he doesn't say anything else. his own eyes shine wetly, his own resolve crumbling.

"stay with me. just a little longer. think about it, please." he tries again, hoping you would relent. your hands move up to cup his cheeks in your palms. "i'm sorry."

"when will this all stop?" you whispered, sighing. "i just want a peaceful life with you."

he doesn't have an answer to that, but that gives him some realization of what follows through. but he knows deep down he will not stop until the jedi order won't come for him. peace is a lie. he remembers what he said to mae back then. he knows he cannot give what you are asking for. peace was never going to be in his life, he hoped you would understand that if you chose to stay with him. but if you choose to leave, he finds himself crumbling at the thought of losing you.

he chooses to capture your lips to his, and you kiss him back, knowing he doesn't have an answer to your questions. he holds you in his arms, your chest hurts, you don't know what to do now. but all you know is your love for him will always be there, whether you choose to leave him still.

all you can hope for now is a moment of peace, even if it will never happen as you rest in his arms.

[severelystrangewriter]

Drunk Confessions (Flufftober 2023 Day 14)

Pairing: keishin ukai x female reader

WC: 678

Warnings: nudity (nothing explicit they shower together), mdni

Summary: you take care of your drunk boyfriend after a night out

Note: ukai is a big ole softie in this so ooc i guess? idc i love him

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

It was late at night on a Saturday and you were finishing grading your students’ quizzes when your front doorbell rang, startling you. You carefully padded to the door, not expecting company, and you checked the peephole before furrowing your brows. You opened the door to reveal your boyfriend Keishin Ukai standing there with a lazy grin on his face.

“Did you forget your key again?” You asked, letting him into your shared home. He had gone out with his friends for a drink, and judging by his somewhat clumsy gait, he might’ve drank a bit too much.

When you got the door closed, he wrapped your arms around your middle, bringing you to his chest.

“I wanna cuddle,” He declared.

“Let me finish grading these last few papers and I’m all yours,” You replied, causing him to huff.

“But I missed you,” Ukai pouted at you.

You giggled, “You saw me a few hours ago.”

“I always miss you,” He buried his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply, “You smell so good.”

“Well you need a shower,” You pointed out, wrinkling your nose at the smell of sweat and alcohol.

“Yeah, yeah,” He let go of you and took hold of your hand, “Join me?”

You knew you probably weren’t going to get that grading done tonight, not when he was looking at you with the most prettiest pout. He would probably keep pestering until you said yes.

“Well I guess someone has to make sure you don’t drown,” You agreed with a teasing smile.

And so you led your boyfriend to the bathroom where you quickly got the shower started, finding a comfortable temperature that you both liked. He undressed himself and got in, and you followed suit. You had already taken a shower so you focused solely on getting Ukai cleaned up. You helped him wash his hair, massaging his scalp the way he liked and he left featherlight caresses to your skin as you worked.

It wasn’t sexual, and you didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment as he gazed at you so lovingly, like you had hung the stars themselves. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked as you took a soapy washcloth and ran it over his chest.

He sighed at the feeling and nodded his head.

“I wish you could’ve come,” He said, and you cracked a smile. He was always so open and soft with you when he got like this. It was endearing.

“I’ll go next time,” You promised.

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise,” You held out your pinky to him, and he quickly circled his own around it. He then brought your hand closer to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

After he rinsed and dried off, you two made your way to the bedroom. He slipped under the cover and patted the space next to him as an invitation to join, which you did so happily.

A comfortable silence fell over you both and for a moment you thought he had already fallen asleep. It wouldn’t shock you, he’s been working hard balancing his time between you, work, and both volleyball team practices. It must be exhausting. 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Ukai mumbled suddenly as he snuggled into you, causing you to blink in surprise.

“You want to marry me?” You repeated curiously. You had been dating for a bit, but this is the first time he’s even introduced the idea of marriage to you.

“Mhm,” He nodded and pressed a sleepy kiss to your neck, “My pretty little wife.”

Your heart fluttered at the confession. Even though he was drunk, you couldn’t help but feel like he meant it.

“And when we have kids, you’re gonna be the best mom.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at that. He wanted a family with you too? Before you could let your imagination run wild, your gaze softened as quiet snores finally fell from his lips, signaling he was asleep.

“I can’t wait to marry you too, Keishin,” You whispered back.

And you meant it.

[livwritesstuff]

more more more divorces dads steddie!

ask and you shall receive and all that jazz :)

part 1

If someone were to have asked Eddie even just one year ago if there were any downsides to dating his ex-husband, he’d…well, he’d actually have a lot of follow-up questions because, seriously, Eddie did not put getting back together with Steve on the Bingo card of his thirty-fifth year of life (not because he didn’t want it, to be clear, but because it was so goddamn unlikely that it would be like throwing away the whole space).

Once he got through those follow-up questions though, he’d have an answer.

There is one sole downside to dating his ex-husband and it’s that Eddie still splits custody with this guy, and because he and Steve are trying to take things slow for Rozzy’s sake (and for their own, a little bit), they haven’t let her know yet that they’ve rekindled things, which means following their normal custody schedule like it’s business as usual, so finding child-less time together isn’t exactly a walk in the park. Eddie really only ever has a free night when Steve is busy, y’know, being a father to their kid, and the daytime, when Rozzy is at playdates and summer camps, is a no-go too because even though Eddie’s job is flexible, Steve’s nine-to-five is not.

Thank fuck for sleepovers, honestly, and for Rozzy being old enough to really enjoy them (and not need to be picked up in the middle of the night), because that’s been their only saving grace.

Eddie actually finds it kind of funny that there’s more logistical challenges with dating his ex-husband than with dating, like, any other person.

Eddie commented on this to Steve (in the shower together, because Rosalind is away at one of those aforementioned blessed sleepovers), and when Steve replied, “I’ll have to take your word for it, man” Eddie finds himself gaping at him because what the fuck does he mean?

It’s been nearly a decade since they split – of course Eddie’s dated since then. Sure, no one all that serious (certainly never serious enough to introduce to Rozzy), and no one he wasn’t secretly measuring up to Steve in one way or another, but still!

There's no goddamn way the same isn't true for Steve.

“The fuck does that mean?” he asks, pressing a little harder against the way Steve is leaning against the tiled wall of the shower.

Steve only shrugs.

“Steve. You can’t honestly think I believe you haven’t dated anyone since we split up.”

“I mean,” Steve shrugs again, “If someone tried to set me up I wouldn't say no, but I never really…I dunno. Nothing really ever felt right, I guess. For me, anyway.”

“But…why?” Eddie can’t help but ask, because he's feeling kind of baffled about this, to be honest. Like, for as much as Steve’s been going on about how good Eddie looks or whatever (and he can keep that up – Eddie doesn’t mind), Steve too has only gotten better to look at over the years (which, frankly, Eddie didn’t even think was possible). It's basically a statistical anomaly than someone else hadn't already swooped this guy up while Eddie was too stupid to realize what he was missing.

“C’mon, man,” Steve says, “Obviously I was hoping there was at least a ​​small chance we’d sort out our shit.”

“Oh, obviously?” Eddie repeats, but he knows there’s a big, dumb grin on his face because he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent the years wondering what would happen if he never got over Steve, wondering if it’d always be this dirty secret in whatever relationship he ended up in that he was deeply, madly, painfully in love with his ex.

He is deeply, madly, painfully in love with his ex, for the record, except Steve's not exactly his ex anymore (fine – it's sort of a weird grey-area at the moment), and with him it doesn't need to be a secret. With Steve, it's not a secret because it's reality, crazy as that still kind of is to him.

It's real though, and to prove it Eddie reaches up to flop Steve’s soapy head of hair over to one side and then he kisses him long and slow, except it's only kind of a kiss, because they're both smiling too much for it to really be a kiss, and Steve's hands are cool on his waist compared to the heat of the water, and Eddie can still sort of feel the sting of a hickey Steve left on his collarbone that made him feel like he's twenty years old again, and the solidness of Steve's chest beneath his hands is reminder enough that they aren't twenty anymore in the best way, and even though they lost their way a bit back there, the day is still young.

And they've got nothing but time.