#the rest turn ur eyes away it is not my best work but its the best i pulled out of this prompt n it took weeks so!

[sweetiecutie]

Hi!

I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!

And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.

Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))

Love your work btw <33

A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️

Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.

Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.

Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.

Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.

Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”

Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.

Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.

Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.

Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.

And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.

That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3

[davdcorenswet]

🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them. 

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him. 

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours? 

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

[rockingbytheseaside]

omg, I am quite literally in love with your work.

pls I cannot tell you how frickin ecstatic I am when I read your stuff 😭 like I’m Fr Rolling on the floor and stopping every five secs bc of the butterflies-

AND! I saw that your asks are open!! (If I misread/misunderstood then I’m so sorry and just ignore this) I was wondering if you could do Harbingers x reader when they find reader quietly weeping- like reader thought they were alone and didn’t wanna burden them :3 romantic if you would !!

no pressure ofc!!!! fr I love ur stuff sm like I’ve been reading ur stuff OVER AND OVER😭😭😭

(bshdhsgdhagjds Okay, let me just hold in my tears- that’s so kind of you anon! Sorry for making you wait, I hope this is something similar to what you wanted) 

✦ How they comfort you when you cry

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

Sometimes, your days might feel bitter, and sometimes the weight of your inner struggles can accumulate into a somber heap of self-doubt. Whether it was a minute inconvenience that resulted in your dampened mood, or stressful memories of the past – the reasons behind it fade into insignificance. Because next thing you know, you feel your shoulders slightly shaking, and your hand reaching to conceal your silent weeping. Thus, when talking becomes a burden and your breath runs short, your beloved is the first to listen to your sniffles.

✧ Pierro’s already icy gaze becomes unreadable. Is it fear? Is it astonishment? Or is it the readiness to unleash hell upon anything that compelled you to shed these silent tears? He sees you hugging yourself, trying to shield yourself away from him. His gloved hands cautiously reach for your form, like a blanket wrapping itself around your shoulders. 

“My divine one, why hide your tears away from me? Why conceal the sadness in your eyes when you silently weep? Please, grace me with your gaze and look at me.” 

His voice is careful despite its deepness, suppressing his boiling temper at the sight of your sadness. He reaches for you tenderly, and when you turn towards him, you allow yourself to cry further into his chest. He cradles you silently, never once wasting breath on simple shushes or admonishments to cease crying. No, The Jester will hold you, let his lips press softly to your forehead, and let you cry as much as you need. He'll personally worship and wipe every teardrop off your cheek. 

Yet despite his gentle arms, you sense him shaking. His gloved hands hold you securely, yet subconsciously gripping. Because pray to the archons above, he will not rest until the source of your sadness is annihilated. 

✧ Il Capitano never saw you cry before. He saw you as an equal in matters of battles, duels, and personal life. Through ups and downs, your best and worst. And yet the imposing, mighty Captain never witnessed his beloved’s face slowly scowl and emit those saddened sobs as you're doing now. 

“No… who bestowed such sadness onto you, my cherished? What sorrows are you fighting?” 

He asks, half in disbelief and worry. The Captain kneels down, the back of his armored hands gracefully meeting your face. He makes sure you’re not physically in pain, his touch asking permission for the simplest caress. You might feel embarrassed to explain why you're crying, but the Captain will coax you to talk only if you bestow him this honor. Otherwise, he never mocks or admonishes you for crying – “This is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of humanity in your strength.”

To soothe you, he'd drape an arm around your shoulder, bringing the side of his coat to shield you. If you desire, he'd immediately discard his coat entirely and wrap it over your shoulders. And if you desire neither this or that, he'd silently kneel, asking for permission to pick you up in his forearms, so you may rest on his shoulder while he carries you away. 

✧ You cannot conceal your sorrows from Il Dottore. He suspects you are feeling dejected before you even realize it. Should your shoulders quiver and tears well in your eyes, he'll be the first to perceive it. His already tense countenance will harden, and in short, murderous intent, he’ll ask:

“Who did this to you?”

His first suspension is that someone foolish enough dared to hurt you, and his next task is to seek out that moron. And stars above, if someone did ruin your day, the Doctor will have a new cadaver on his lab table. You'll have to physically restrain the Harbinger in front of you by putting your hands on his shoulder and explaining hurriedly that no one did anything harmful. 

Il Dottore won't quell his inner rage so easily though. As you shake your head, and rub your eyes, it will require much persuasion to convince him that it’s not as dire as he suspects. Nonetheless, Dottore will keep a tight hold on your form. If he won't murder someone in rage, then he'll prepare a soothing beverage and wrap you up in a comfortable seating so you may rest your weary head. He’ll have to personally drag you to sit by his lap so you won’t desolate yourself into a depressive fit again. 

“Wasting your breath and energy on crying is a futile endeavor. You'll only tire your body out… so rest in my arms before your mind starts weaving more puny sentiments.” 

✧ The ever-prideful and strict Scaramouche would find himself faltering into silence when the unfamiliar sound emanates from your being. The hiccupped sounds of choked cries are not foreign to him - he recognized them very well and was personally acquainted with the physical pain of crying. But seeing the closest being, the one he calls most cherished, to unexplainable weep was a new form of pain he had never experienced. 

“... Are you-? What's wrong, are you hurt? Did something-!”

An expression of shock and fear bestows the Balladeer, his hands are reluctant and afraid to cross your boundaries when you cry in front of him. His first instinct is to believe that he has erred, that he has hurt you or spoken insensitively. Anguished, his fist tightens, dreading your stern rejection. Yet, all it takes is a gentle shake of your head and a soft reassurance - no, he hasn't actually done anything wrong.

His brow will remain furrowed, and only under your permission, he would glue himself to you in a reassuring embrace. It's only after he's assured of your safety and well-being that the Harbinger begins to ease up and scoff. Maybe, just maybe, he will go and bring your favorite sweets afterward. Regardless, his hands kept cupping your face, thumbs gently wiping your tears.

“Ha, you’re that sensitive that you’d weep at the most minor inconvenience? Fine, I’ll stay here. But don’t get too comfortable. And you better stop apologizing for crying. You should never say sorry for something like that. It’s in your right to cry… Just come to me when something’s troubling you, alright?”

✧ You cannot recall a single instance when Pantalone's captivating smile ever wavered. The man has perfected his charismatic, million-mora smile that only you can discern if he’s being genuine or not. But to witness it dropping completely in a cold stare while you cried was chilling. You felt scared, as the Harbinger grew eerily silent with each slow step, he demanded:

“... Give me names and I will make sure they will disappear permanently.”

You jolted. This was bad, and it sure didn’t quell your sobbing as you hurriedly shook your head. Pantalone took a deep sigh, his brain forced to flip a switch and change to a more tender tone so he wouldn’t scare you further with his sinister rage. He will deal with the causes later. What mattered now was your shaken state. Hence, like the dotting lover he is, he softly inquired whether you wish to talk or have some privacy. 

If you willingly welcomed his physical touch, then prepare yourself for a day filled with him enfolding you tightly. He will draw you near, letting you cry your frustrations out until you get fatigued and rest against his lean chest. The Regrator always fulfills his pledges, gently rocking you back and forth. He will vow to spoil you on the next shopping spree and purchase everything you desire - luxuries, clothes, perfumes, or fancy meals, all of it is yours with a snap of his fingers (even if you reprimand his indulgence). His embraces are tenacious, endless kisses raining down on your face until you plead and whine to be released from his insistent hugs.

"My heart, how can I possibly release you when you should be adorned with kisses instead of tears? I am afraid I won’t be so easily reassured until I see your smile again."

✧ Tartaglia’s highlight of the day is mirroring your luminous smile; hence when he first heard your sorrowful sniffles, it felt like a sudden dark cloud washed past him, pouring cold water to wipe his smile off in an instant. Without hesitation, his hand found itself on your shoulder as he guided you to sit first.

“Hey, hey… What’s wrong, darling? I’m here, it’s alright.”

He observes your attempt to explain the root of your troubles, but as you try to elaborate, your tears only intensify against your own will. Kneeling in front of you, his gaze was resolute - he now had a mission. He will immediately soothe your mood with tender words of endearment, lighthearted banter, and the occasional joke here and there, anything to make you crack up with that sweet smile he so adores.

Tartaglia will remind you that first and foremost, he is your Ajax - the one who will bring laughter through his playful teasing and delightful humor during your times of melancholy. The one who will cook you the best Snezhnayan Bliny better than any pancake restaurant. And the one who will always be there so you can lean your head on his shoulder and just feel his heartbeat as he embraces you deeply. In any other circumstances, he is the 11th of the Fatui Harbinger who will work and bloody his fists for your safety. However, for now, you shouldn’t occupy your thoughts with such concerns.

“Hey, it’s alright… You don’t have to feel embarrassed for crying. We all have bad days from time to time. How about this, leave today’s dinner on me. I shall cook your favorite even better than you could imagine! Or else what sort of boyfriend would I be if I’m not spoiling my darling.” 

[crestapex]

Yesss we love a foodie simon!

Mans will tear up some fried rice and then fuck up some rotisserie chickens 2 min later. Yall stupid if u think u can leave 2 big plates unattended with him. 3 slurps and its gone.

If hes dating and u cant finish ur food he gladly finish it for u. Gets lowkey offended when i pull the plate back and tell him u just ate off that plate/fork. Like wtf u mean i cant eat off ur plate/fork it doesnt matter bc I kiss u anyways SO LET ME FUCKIN EAT😫

Hes the type to eat from the pot/pan. Like as soon as u tell him the food is ready hes already digging in the pressure cooker with a spoon.💀

Yeah-no, ‘cause he’s definitely the type to look at you all confused when you don’t just give him your plate and instead try to shove your uneaten food on to his. He’s quirking his brow, looking at you like, ‘Hello? My tongue has literally been inside you.’ 🤨 And he just gently takes your plate and fork out of your hands while staring at you, nodding in disapproval.

Update: sort of part two.

And “3 slurps and it’s gone” PLEASE, I’M DONE. Also, I just couldn’t stop myself from writing a (semi) little blurb. 🤭 Now introducing big boy helping you cook!

You stand at the stove, wooden spoon in one hand, and switching from spice to spice with the other. Your eyes stay focused on the silver pot below, nearly filled to the brim with hot, simmering soup. It’s one of your own recipes, fresh and homemade from start to finish. The savory smell fills the kitchen, and having certainly flooded into the other rooms of your shared flat. As it appears you’re not the only one who favors this recipe, someone else clearly does as well.

You try your best not to acknowledge the beast of a man looming over you too much, instead letting him quietly watch as you work your magic. Simon’s hand rests on the counter beside the stove, his other hand opting to rest knuckle-first on his hip. Sure, he mostly chooses to remain silent, but he has no problem reaching for and handing you a utensil or spice—often times before you can, and even before you can ask him to do so.

Every now and again you’ll find yourself having to step away for a minute, and a minute is all he needs. All the time he needs to inch over to your spot and take a hold of the wooden spoon, gently stirring the soup. All the time he needs to lift the spoon and bring it to his lips, slurping up the smallest amount it could possibly take to drench his taste buds, no matter how steaming hot it is. And all the time he needs to lower the spoon back into the pot and swiftly move back into position, just as you begin to turn around and make your way back over to the stove.

And you pretend you don’t notice, you like to pretend you didn’t just catch Simon from out the corner of your eye sneak a bit into his system. Though you can’t help but silently laugh to yourself as he lightly pushes a spice in your direction with his thumb, his own, kind way of telling you it needs just a little bit more!

[sweetfushi]

hihihihi i hope ur having a very good day and that this request is even understandable and grammatically correct!!!!!! this thought has been plaguing my mind sososos much but i reallyreallylyly want just a short drabble or anything w jjk (any character u find that fits best idm) of them like drawing a bath n washing your hair after a long day or smth smth (nooooottttttt in a suggestive way plsplsplspls)

okay thats it >3< !!!! im praying this doesnt come off as pushy T_T

PAMPERING YOU AFTER A LONG DAY

fluff | satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, kento nanami x reader, stress, frustration, running you a bath, washing you, no suggestiveness just pure fluff and comfort <3 | word count. 1.7k ◦ notes. hihihihi nonnie!! don't worry your grammar is fine and you didn't come off as pushy at all, i hope you enjoy mwah

SATORU GOJO.

Satoru can tell something is up when you toss your decently-expensive blazer haphazardly on your desk, showing little care when it inevitably slips and falls on the ground. He doesn’t need you to tell him, he picks it up in an instant and throws it on the back of your office chair.

“I would ask how work went but you don’t look like you’re in the mood to answer questions,” he huffs, somewhat amused. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure today was a universally terrible day at work. Everyone on the street looked miserable as hell,” he assures you through the kiss he places to the top of your head.

“Oh I’m sure,” you mumble, recalling the frustration you experienced facing your arrogant supervisor. “Sorry, that tone wasn’t aimed at you.”

“I didn’t think it was, dove, but thank you for the reassurance,” he laughs softly, the breathy sound evidence of his own exhaustion.

Satoru starts to head out of your office to let you settle down, but pauses in the doorway. You barely pay him any mind other than a small smile as you pull your laptop out of your bag and place it on your desk, and mutter incoherently about how disgusting the five empty snack wrappers in your bag are. He continues to watch as you let down your hair from its bun toss your hair tie beside your laptop.

“Come to the bathroom in ten. Vanilla or floral?”

You squint. “What?”

“Scent. Pick.”

“Why are you talking in half-sentences? And vanilla.”

“Why aren’t you used to it? And alright,” he retorts with a long finger pointing at you, before narrowly dodging the pen you throw at him by rushing out the doorway and seeking refuge in the bathroom.

The bathroom that, ten minutes later, you find yourself being pampered in. Satoru is sat on a stool beside the bathtub as you soak in the water, stretching your legs and fluttering your lashes at the therapy the hot water provides to your aching muscles. Speaking of, you don’t have to strain a single one as Satoru doesn’t let you lift a finger. He’s massaging your shampoo into your hair, gently scratching your scalp and inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla.

The water reaches your chest and provides the perfect height for you to make shapes with the bubbles and bring them close to your face to inspect before blowing away. He watches as you repeat this process with multiple shapes, some more recognisable than others, and feels himself desiring to kiss you.

“Do you think–,” the moment you turn your head to ask, Satoru’s lips meet yours quickly yet so dreamily and so gently. You practically whine into the kiss, both because he cut you off and because you’re caught off guard by how intimate the moment suddenly becomes.

So much so that you’re left panting by the time he pulls away and flashes you a faux innocent smile, to which you glare at him and tense up like a cat when he starts rinsing the shampoo out your hair. After he applies a mask in your hair and clips it up, Satoru struggles to maintain a healthy heart rate when you rest your arms on his knees and your head on them, eyes lowering with the appearance of tiredness.

“I can’t wash you like this, baby.”

“Just for a bit.”

A minute goes by. “How long is a bit?” He finally asks.

“A lot.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“I can finally show you what I’ve been workin’ on,” Toji smirks, taking your hand in his after you manage to shove your shoes off by the door. He’s been working on the spare room you had for a month now and would refuse to let you even peek any time you asked. You assumed that your husband had finally resorted to illegal money-making tactics to fund your lifestyle, but he was (suspiciously) quick to shut that idea down.

When he did need help continuing the project, he had called in a few men you weren’t familiar with to assist. You’d complain about the random men in your house, to which he’d pull you in for a kiss on your temple and insist that it’s worth it.

He unlocks the door to the room and rushes behind you to cover your eyes. “Is this necessary? You’ve already made me wait a month.”

“A few seconds more can’t hurt,” he retorts with a snicker at your enthusiasm. He uses his elbow to push the door open and only when he guides you to step into the room and close the door behind you does he lower his hands from your eyes. “Surprise.”

Surprise was an understatement. Toji had renovated the room to almost appear bigger and function as a spa, with extensive windows along the top of the walls that are big enough to let fresh air in but small enough to not actually show the interior of the room from the outside. A massage table stood in the middle of the room with two tables at either side of it, both neatly organised with numerous body oils, lotions and Vogue magazines.

“If you don’t say something in the next second I’m gonna assume you’re plotting to kill me.”

“I love it.”

“Thank God.”

You giggle at his exaggerated exhale and turn to tackle him in your embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to your height for your own comfort. Toji smiles into your neck, resting his hands on your lower back and letting himself inhale your scent and delightful aura.

“Now,” you start as you break away from the hug, “I believe I’m in need of a masseur.”

Toji - or your masseur - is quick to have you strip down and lay you on your stomach with a white towel over your backside. He laughs at your heavy sigh and the way your head flops down onto the table, simply letting him work one of the oils on your skin and tense muscles. Every so often, when he feels you drifting off to sleep, he’ll bend down and place a kiss on your hairline, sometimes hearing you mumble in response.

His fingers are calloused enough to draw you out of your slumber after a minute or so, but you don’t complain since they’re the same fingers that ward you into that sleep initially. You don’t talk at all aside from a few incoherent murmurs, ones that even when Toji responds with “hm?” to, you don’t repeat or say any clearer. He has to contain the soft, breathy laugh that threatens to escape at your dazed, drowsy state - he doesn’t want to disrupt your peace.

“You good, mama?” Toji asks breathily, slowing his movements momentarily.

You groan in response. “You better keep those hands moving, boy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You can hear the grin in his voice but can’t find the strength to glare at him for it let alone lift your head to do so.

KENTO NANAMI.

The first thing you notice when you walk through the front door is the delivery bag by the bin. You wonder why it’s not in the bin, but also why it’s here in the first place. You’re certain you have leftovers that are enough to feed you two for the evening. However with closer inspection of the bag, you realise it to be of a bakery that is very much raved about, both at work and on social media.

I’ll be damned if I let this man finish these sweets without me.

“Kento! I’m home!” You call out, expecting a prompt response from the kitchen or living room. Instead, you hear some shifting and clanging upstairs, likely in the bathroom, and hang your jacket up before trotting up the stairs. “Are you okay? What was that sound?”

“Ah, I’m fine, sweetheart. I didn’t anticipate making this much noise, though,” he replies sheepishly just as you push the bathroom door open. Once you do, the aroma of something you can’t quite place your finger on caresses your senses, making you shut your eyes to fully indulge in it. Nanami chuckles at your rapidly relaxed demeanour and dries his hands off before coming over to embrace you.

“Hi,” you smile into the crook of his neck.

“Hi,” he reciprocates, sighing contently at the feeling of your hands roaming the expanse of his back. He shifts you in his arms so that his left is swung over your shoulders, while the other motions towards the relaxation project that is your bathroom. As you let yourself admire the filled bathtub, lit candles and rose petals decorating both the water and some of the floor, you’re reminded of the sweets.

“Do I also get a cake?” You stare up at him pointedly.

Nanami recalls the delivery he made and rubs your left shoulder. “Also isn’t the right word here, I swear I haven’t had any yet,” he laughs breathily, letting you strip while he positions the small tray table on the edges of the bathtub. When you’re finally relieved of your clothes, you practically squeal at the sight of numerous cakes, brownies and fruits decorating the wooden tray, barely giving Nanami enough time to stand before you’re crawling into the tub and snuggling under the warm water.

“Now I know you washed your hair yesterday,” he says as you start to feel his hands gather your hair and clip it up, “which is why I want this to be focused on easing your stress. Both physical and mental forms.”

You’re practically gaping at the rate at which he’s making your heart race from simply his words and gestures. Reluctantly you are to admit that perhaps Nanami deserves to have some of your sweets. Realistically, it would be days before you’d finish them all. “Come here and give me a kiss, you,” is all you respond with, to which Nanami complies eagerly and results in him groaning under the soft feeling of your hands rubbing the back of his neck.

Your hand trails up to scratch his scalp and he shivers in delight, allowing his hand to grasp your jaw gently but with enough grip to make you shiver and smile into the kiss. The kiss that inevitably ends because you need to breathe and let Nanami tend to you.

When he reaches for your body wash, you grab his arm and insist that you eat first. You need some sugar in your system before you crash from sheer relaxation under your husband’s attention.

“Feed me, husband.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “As you wish, my wife.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[supercutszns]

luke castellan comforting his gf?

btw i love ur work 💗💗

wc + pairing: 0.9k, luke castellan x reader

oh i really needed this,,, if i stop writing comfort fics i’m dead i will literally write a thousand of them over and over they could be exact replicas and i would not care. sorry this took such a long time i've been in a big writing slump and i really don't like this but we have to start somewhere <3 every time someone requests a comfort fic i get very happy inside! i know this isn’t my best work like at all but hopefully it’s enough for now

Luke’s good at finding hidden things. A playing card wedged between wooden panels. A camper that always trudges at the back of the line. He can find something at its most sheltered and pluck it right back where it belongs. He’s good at that with you, too. When you wedge yourself somewhere tough, he slips through the cracks every damn time. 

You’re exhausted. You don’t know what time it is, how long you’ve been here, or how you can stop it. You just couldn’t get up this morning and your siblings let you stay sick. You imagine an alternate version of this day over and over, where you’re up and alive and contributing to something. But that’s not today. But it should be. You dream it until tears press against your eyes but you’ve got no energy to push them out. 

Feeling like this isn’t a constant occurrence, but it happens. Luke finds his way in each time, wedging open the slightest crack in your door or coming in through the window. He comes bearing gifts, he jokes. You don’t ask him where he gets the things he brings you—snacks, chocolate, plastic figurines to place on your windowsill. Menial things you like. Luke has his methods, and you know he loves you too much to reveal them. 

“Got some offerings for a goddess here,” he says when he sits down on your bed, knuckles brushing your arm. If you’re too tired to answer he never minds, he just crosses his legs and pulls your head into his lap. He smooths the hair away from your face to massage your scalp, and lets you rest. He doesn’t ask you for anything. Doesn’t force you to speak. You do when you’re ready. 

“I don’t feel good,” you admit hoarsely, blinking back tears. 

“That’s okay.” He leans down to kiss your forehead. “You just rest.”

It almost makes you laugh. “I’ve been in bed all day, Luke.”

“Mm, yeah, but you’re not really resting,” he says without judgement, letting you cling to his body as you pull yourself up to a seated position. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

You press your face into his neck so the warmth can distract you. Sometimes you say a lot, sometimes you say a little, like your mouth has separated from your body. It almost always ends with, “I feel like shit. I don’t know what to do.”

Luke is patient with you, but never overbearing. He knows you shut down when things are laid on too thick. “Want to take a nap?” He offers, threading his hands through your hair. “I can take you to my cabin, it’s cooler.”

He’s right, so you let him, and he steals you away without a fuss. The sheets smell like him, so even if you want to be alone, he still grounds you. When you fall into his bed you curl into a ball like an armadillo, like you can squeeze the rot out of your bones if you compress hard enough. Luke slots himself beside you after confirming it’s what you want, pressing kisses into your shoulder, until you turn into him and starfish over his body. “You let me know if you need anything, angel,” he murmurs, swiping your hair away from your face. “I’ve got you.” 

You manage to doze off, with his arms loose around your back and his chest underneath you. When you wake up later with a kiss of late afternoon breeze, you’re struck with the disorienting feeling of a good sleep. “Luke,” you mutter, digging your nose into his neck. 

He rouses too. “How’re you feeling?”

“Still bad.”

“Mm.” He kisses your forehead, squeezes you against him. “That’s okay. Want me to go grab you some food?” 

“Can we talk a little before?” 

“‘Course,” he says gently. He ghosts a kiss over your jaw. 

Sleep has pieced together some of the words you need, and Luke brings them out of you with hardly any effort. You have what’s probably a fragmented reason at best, but he doesn’t care. He keeps you anchored to him as long as you want him to, rubbing your back and letting you take your time. Once you’re done with the conversation, Luke diligently wipes your tears and kisses you. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” he grins. “I mean, I do love you. Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You let your forehead rest against his. Your throat feels thick but you get the words out, “I’m worried I’m going to feel this way forever.”

It doesn’t feel good to admit. Luke’s face softens, and he presses a kiss between your brows. “You won’t,” he murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “You’ve got time.”

The length of the day moving around you matters a little less when Luke shields you from it. His knuckles rub across the ridges in your back until you’re sure the texture of his shirt is imprinted on your face. 

After he goes off to bring you some food, you find the strength to go wash your face in the bathroom. It’s practically nothing. Practically. At least you settle back into his bed, the blankets aren’t as heavy as before. You don’t feel better yet, but Luke’s got plenty of time for you. (He’ll pawn his kids off to Chris. None of them need this grilled cheese anyway.)

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant @huang-the-geek @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jennapancake @idunnowhattonamethis @jarofshells @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @lauraisthebestyapper @nininehaaa

[lowkeychenle]

HELLO MY DEAR I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A REQUEST PLEASE 🌹 thought abt this classic scenario w chenle and immediately thought of ur writing hehe so like.... a fic where y'all go to your parents' house to visit and you stay the night and chenle's been eyeing you all day and now ofc he's horny as hell and the cliche of fucking when ur parents are right next door and trying not to be heard commences 😈 bonus points when ur jokingly trying to put up a front of "noooo its so wrong" but chenle knowsss you'll fold eventually and melt bc of his kisses and be putty in his hands.... also when his dirty talk is all like "i knew u wanted this" and how ur so dirty for seducing him and doing this when ur parents are right in the next room and can hear u and he has to put his hand over ur mouth to cover the noise (when its literally his fault like 🤨) anyways i know you'll come out w something amazing as always so thank you in advance my love 💓

- mari

oh my god hello this took me thirty freaking years I'm SOOOO sorry but I'm here and I tried to write this so plzzzz let me know if this is awful :D (plz I wrote this in like an hour last night i haven't written chenle smut in so long i was going through withdrawals)

Description: You and Chenle visit your family, and things get frisky idk y'all lol this was a request :D

Genre: Smut *MDNI*

Word Count: 2,165

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader

Content Warnings: Chenle says pretty girl, slut, mentions of the possibility of being caught by parents, orgasm denial, a mirror is involved, teasing, yk the drill LOL it's all here yay

Juliet's Masterlist | thoughts are appreciated loll

smut below the cut!

All you wanted to do was have a seamless visit with your parents. You and Chenle were going to stay there for the weekend since you hadn’t seen your family in a while, so you figured your boyfriend would be on his best behavior. Oh, how wrong you were.

It started off simple—quick smacks on your ass, resting his warm hand on your thigh while his thumb rubs your skin. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing his attempts to turn you on are working, so you opt to ignore him completely.

It doesn’t work. He pushes and pushes your limits until you have to swat him away from you. Your last straw was when his touch trailed over to your inner thigh, up, up, up until his fingertips brushed your clothed core. You jolted so hard, you startled your parents at the dinner table. Chenle, of course, thought it was hilarious. He’d been wanting you bad all day, and it wasn’t his fault you wore a skirt.

What’s worse, is that when he was preparing to finger you under the table, he held a steady and respectful conversation with your dad. As much as you hate to admit it, the two sides of Chenle on display for you drove you crazy.

Your father leaves the table to answer an important call, and your mom chooses then to get up and grab the desert.

“C’mon, babe,” Chenle murmurs, tapping your leg. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Are you crazy? We’re with my parents, Chenle.”

He hums, dropping his head on your shoulder to easily press his lips to your neck. “I know you. You want me.”

“(Y/N), can you help me?” your mom calls from the kitchen.

“Coming!” you yell, quickly pulling yourself from Chenle and glaring at him the whole way out of the room.

You hate how right he is—how damp your panties are at the thought of him taking you here when your parents might hear. It should repulse you, but instead, you feel your entire body heat up at the thought.

Desert drags, and Chenle rubs the top of your leg where it meets your hip, back and forth while you squirm at the contact. If your parents notice how erratic you’ve become, they don’t mention it.

“Mom, did you, um, did you need any help cleaning up?”

“Oh, honey, that’s okay.” Your mother waves you off. “It’s getting late. You two have been traveling all day, we’ll get this and you get some rest.”

Chenle doesn’t even hide the smug look on his face when he intertwines your fingers together. “Thanks, I am exhausted.”

Bullshit. He wants to get you alone as soon as possible.

Next thing you know, you’re leading him upstairs to get him undressed. Although, you didn’t expect for it to lead you to your current predicament.

Chenle’s slender fingers slide into you easily with how wet you are. After teasing you all day, he’s got you dripping down onto the sheets. He moves slowly, staring at you smugly with his other hand covering your mouth. Your eyes roll back, and you fist the sheets as if that’ll stop the overwhelming need.

The walls of your childhood bedroom close in on you like yours close in around Chenle’s fingers, and everything starts to spin. He reaches deep inside, curling to find your spot. With his palm firm on your lips, your moan doesn’t make it past his skin. He chuckles, leaning close to your ear without messing with his pace.

“See, pretty girl? I knew you wanted it. Can’t stay off my cock even with your parents down the hall, huh?”

You mutter incoherently in your best attempt to spur him forward, to get him to fuck you as soon as possible, but it seems his evening of teasing is far from over. He places his thumb on your mouth instead, and you instinctively open up and swirl your tongue around it.

“Little fucking slut,” he tsks. “Can you stay quiet for me while I make you feel good?”

You nod fervently, lifting your hips to match his pace. Desperate to reach your end, you clench the bedspread harder to ground yourself. If you make a sound, you know he won’t continue.

He uses the wetness of your saliva to trail down from your mouth to your collarbone down to your breasts, watching you in a mix of wonder and awe as your nipples harden further beneath his touch. You let out a shaky sigh, but luckily for you, he doesn’t count that against you.

Despite his distraction, his fingers still brush against your spot with every steady thrust, and your mind reels from the pleasure, your orgasm just out of reach. He knows your body like the back of his hand at this point, so he’s well aware of what you need.

As he continues his venture down, the cold air sends chills all over you. He stops at your lower abdomen, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“Remember,” he whispers. “Keep it down, alright?”

You don’t have time to reassure him before he nudges your clit. Inhaling sharply, you slap your own hand over your mouth.

“No.” He grabs your wrist and pulls your arm away. “Just fucking be good, you brat. Make a noise and you don’t get to cum.”

And he continues his work, rubbing your clit in steady, perfect circles while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. His self-control surprises even you, with the way he hasn’t fucked you yet. The bulge in his boxers strain, and you can practically taste the precum dripping from his tip already. You crave it so fucking badly, you almost forget you’re supposed to be quiet.

When you let out a low curse, the determined look on Chenle’s face turns to stone, and he stops his circles to land a smack on your sensitive bud instead. “Shut the fuck up, slut.”

Your body jerks, tears forming in your eyes, but you nod, so close to the brink it’s like you’re already there. The knot ties in your stomach almost as soon as his thumb is back on your clit, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip hard.

You’re so close, the warning signs of your orgasm becoming far too real to ignore. Lifting your hips, you’re desperate to match his pace, desperate to cum over and over again solely from his touch.

But just before the band of pleasure snaps, he abruptly removes his touch from you, leaving you to clench around nothing. You want to whine, to cry out for his attention, but you don’t dare when he warned you already.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you.

“The floor?” you ask breathlessly.

“Ass in the air, gonna show you how sluts get fucked when they don’t fucking listen.” He grips your thigh. “Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

You leap up from your bed, eager to please the man who holds the key to your euphoria. The carpet digs uncomfortably into your knees as you arch your back, putting yourself on display for him. Your bed is much too creaky for anything other than missionary, and sometimes, even that’s enough to cause it to squeak if Chenle has anything to say about it.

His hands squeeze your ass, massaging you while he studies you. A quick smack has you shuddering again. His shuffle to take off the last of the clothing covering him is music to your ears, and you wiggle back against him to try to entice him further.

He grabs a pillow and tosses it to you, and you already know what it’s for. You take it gratefully, but you bite down on it in preparation of what’s to come. The thought of getting caught has wetness leaking down your thighs, and as he rubs his hard cock along your entrance to collect it, you’re already shaking. Being denied an orgasm already has every inch of you craving release. His tip brushes your clit, and you push back with a muffled whine.

“What if I just leave you like this?” he asks, dragging his nails along your back.

You shake your head and repeat over and over, “Please. Please.”

“How disappointed would your parents be if they saw you like this, huh? Just down the hall begging to be fucked like a whore…” He slides his tip in, his breath catching at the sensation.

Your chorus of pleas are muffled by the pillow, but you push yourself back, making him slide another inch inside you. Legs wobbling already, you ignore the burn of the carpet against your knees.

Finally, he gives you some reprieve. As slowly as he can manage, he opens you up with his cock. You whimper, eyes watering as you bury your head in the plush fabric below you, already slick with your saliva.

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” he asks breathlessly, nails digging into your hips. “One sound and we stop, got it?”

You can’t manage a response, not with the way he fills you so completely. Whatever he’s gonna give you, you need it.

The choice to move to the floor makes more sense as he gives you one reassuring squeeze to your waist. He thrusts slowly twice, groaning quietly at the feeling.

And then he really starts. His hips slam into yours, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obvious and impossible to mask. You can barely breathe while he fucks you, your body jolting and the carpet rubbing against your knees. The pillow is drenched with your spit, and you’re biting down so hard your jaw starts to hurt. He pants behind you, his tip reaching your cervix with every rough thrust.

His cock pulses inside you, like he’s ready to burst at any given second. It’s so overwhelmingly good, tears stream down your face. Next thing you know, he’s wrapping his fingers around your neck and pulling you up until your back is against his chest. He squeezes tight enough to make sure no noises will escape you, but your brain clears long enough to see his motive.

The mirror stands in front of you, displaying your body as Chenle slides in and out of you at a steady pace. He leans forward, tightening his grip on your neck.

“See the mess you made?” He licks the shell of your ear. “You’re taking me so fucking easy right now, slut. Don’t think you’ve earned the right to cum.”

Whatever escapes your lips is muffled gibberish.

“I guess I’ll be nice.” His condescending tone sends a chill down your spine as his hand dips between your legs. All it takes is the slight brush of his fingertips to send you reeling over the edge, your body jerking as your orgasm takes you full-force. He doesn’t stop there, though, applying pressure to your clit and rubbing fast. Your vision blurs as a burst of wetness soaks your thighs.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, breaking his rough facade for the briefest moment while he processes what just happened.

He pulls out of you, much to your protest, and turns you on your back. Propping your legs up on his shoulders, he slides back inside with ease, his own eyes fluttering shut. He leans down and takes your mouth with his, the stretch in your legs almost as delicious as he tastes.

“Need to see that pretty face when I cum.” He nips your ear lobe, rocking his hips hard against yours.

Mind hazy from your orgasm, you stare at him in awe as his face contorts with pleasure with every thrust. When his pace becomes erratic, you know he’s close.

He moans lowly in your ear, pushing himself as deep as possible before he spills his load. Panting, he wastes no time in kissing you sweetly, gently as he releases your legs from their uncomfortable position. He rubs your thigh, humming into your mouth.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “You feeling okay? Was it too much?”

You still can’t speak, so with a smile, you shake your head and place a hand flat on his chest.

He pulls out slowly, a shaky breath escaping his lips as he does. A sheen of sweat covers him, the gentle starlight from the windows illuminating him just enough for you to see. He stands, puts his boxers on, and walks over to grab your towel.

You’re oversensitive, and as he spreads your legs again to clean you up, the rough fabric against your clit makes you jolt.

“I love you.” He kisses your forehead in an attempt to distract you from the mess he made. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

You weakly smack his shoulder. “You did all of this at my parents’ house?”

He grins, scooping you up to help you onto your bed. “Don’t complain. The wet spot on the ground says you liked it.”

[fuckitupfelix]

hai… its me again BUT I HAVE ANOTHER SCENARIO IDEA ALSO IMMSORRY AHOUT MY OTHER ASK AUGHH IT WAS RIGHT IN UR RULES DUDE BUT BUT MY IDEA IS SCENARIO OF WHICHEVER HQ CHARACTER OF UR CHOOSING WITH AN S/O WHO HAS REALLY BAD MUSCLE STRAIN FROM PRACTISING VOLLEYBALL BUT REFUSE TO REST AND GAGAGAGA :3

DONT WORRY ABOUT IT BRO ITS ALL GOOD!!! IM GONNA COOK WITH THIS ONE TO MAKE UP FOR IT 🙏🙏 actually writing now hope this doesn't turn out bad..

hit it til it breaks...?

iwaizumi hajime x male reader

word count: 1k

iwaizumi's noticed that his boyfriend, seijoh's libero, hasn't been doing his best.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

iwaizumi has seen what pushing yourself past your limits can do to you. he's seen how oikawa always strived to be the best he could, sometimes pushing himself beyond exhaustion. it takes a huge toll on your body, so iwa promised himself he'd take care of himself, and it's not exactly a secret. he pushed everyone to do the same.

so it surprised iwaizumi when he noticed (name) acting different in the past few weeks. they were all very subtle changes; he would buy coffee in the morning more often, was a bit slower with receives, and a little more tired than he usually used to be.

he was pushing himself.

that's what iwaizumi thought initially. he's seen the signs in oikawa enough times to know the aftermath of straining yourself and making your body work overtime. he decides to wait a bit, see if (name) would mention anything by himself. he didn't.

"iwaaaa," (name) called, leaning over iwaizumi's desk. "can i borrow your homework answers?"

iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at that. "you didn't get time finish it last night?" he asked, pulling out the papers. he noticed his boyfriend's hesitation before he took the papers.

"nah, only got through half of it before i went to bed. my mom had me run errands after school. y'know, groceries 'n stuff." (name) said causally. he hunched over iwaizumi's desk to quickly write down the rest of his answers before passing the worksheets back to him. "thanks!"

"yeah, no problem. . . by the way—" but (name) had left before he could ask his question.

later that day, during practice, the team was doing a spiking drill. (name)'s receives were all flawless, but iwaizumi noticed the slight stiffness of his movements. how he grit his teeth for a spike that wasn't particularly hard to get. how his feet left the ground half a second too late. how his breathing grew ragged faster than usual.

'maybe im overthinking things,' and so he shook the thoughts away. he's used to having to deal with oikawa's bullshit. maybe its made him paranoid.

he went to spike, moving fluidly. the ball went a bit of a distance away from (name)'s direction— almost halfway across the court— but he still went for it. that's when it happened.

(name) reached, pushing himself to make contact with the ball, willing himself to. and he did. he sent it up nicely— a beautiful arc straight to the net. but his body had already exhausted itself. it was too much. his face contorted in pain as he felt his leg spasm. his body slammed against the floor, his shoulder connecting with the wood panels in an odd way. his body tumbled over itself like a ragdoll. (name) just laid there.

iwaizumi darted over to (name), eyes blown wide with panic. as gently as he could, he grabbed his shoulders, lifting him up. his grip was still tight.

"(name)? (name), are you okay?" he asked, sweat dripping from his forehead onto (name).

(name)'s eyes opened, face morphing into a frown. "yeah, shit. . . sorry," he mumbled. he tried to push himself to stand, but let out a sharp groan, falling back down to the floor.

the sound of shoes squeaking against the gym floors was faded as (name) and iwaizumi sat together in the club room. (name)'s leg was propped up on one of the chairs.

'how did this happen?'

sure, (name) was pushing himself more than usual, but that was because the inter-high preliminaries were right around the corner! he had to do his best so the team could go to nationals!

"hey." iwaizumi's voice drew (name) out of his thoughts. ". . . why didn't you stop?" he asked.

". . .what?"

"you were pushing yourself too hard, your body couldn't keep up, and now you can barely move your legs. why didn't you take a break?"

(name) tensed up at iwa's words. he frowned. "because i needed to do better. i needed more practice. i need to be better—"

"is this really better to you?" iwaizumi cut him off. (name) flinched at the volume. iwaizumi was pissed. "seriously, tell me. do you think pushing yourself this far helping anyone? we all need practice, but without breaks, you're doing more harm than good!"

"i know that!" (name) snaps. he glared down at the floor. his head was spinning and his legs were throbbing and he could feel his face grow hot, tears brimming in his eyes.

"i know it was stupid, i know i should have paid attention, i'm sorry. i just wanted us to do better! i wanted us to win." (name) managed. god, he knew he sounded pathetic, the way his throat closed up on him, making him sound all whiney. he rubbed the tears away with the back of his hands, his face scrunched up.

iwaizumi wasn't expecting that. he walks over, sitting next to his boyfriend. he wraps an arm around his shoulder, bringing (name) in to rest his head on his chest.

"hey, hey, it's okay," iwaizumi mumbled. he wasn't great at comforting people. he ran his hand along (name)'s back, rubbing circles. "c'mon. can you stand properly? i'm taking you home."

"what? come on, iwa, just give me a minute, i-i can make it for the rest of practice—"

"(name)." iwaizumi said sternly. "what you need is rest. you don't need to overexert your body anymore. and, you're banned from any type of practice until you get better." he adds.

"what?" (name) sputtered. "that's not fair!"

"of course it is, dumbass!" iwaizumi huffed, crossing his arms. "if you try to play volleyball injured, it'll get worse and take longer to heal. seriously. i don't like seeing you hurt," he adds, quieter that time.

a small smile grew on (name)'s face at that. "fine, but only cause i don't want you worrying," he chuckled. he leaned over to plant a small kiss on iwaizumi's cheek.

". . . okay, now help me up? please?"

AAAAJFHHH i hope that was okay (⁠>⁠▂⁠<⁠)!!! it was kind of angsty idk if you wanted that. . . lmk if i need to fix anything!!! requests are still open btw!!

divider by @/plutism !!

[missuswalker]

UHMM HIII I LOVE UR WRITING SO SO MUCH ITS SO GOOD!!! uhm if ur taking requests,, do you think you could something domestic and smutty with a married reader x kit walker ,,, doing the do by the fireplace when he gets home from work,, feel free to change the prompt or not do this entirely i promise i dont mind ❤️❤️ u gotta do whats best for u!!

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 || 𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♰ summary: kit has to work overtime, but knows it’ll be worth it when he comes home for a quickie

♰ warnings: cute kit smut (not a warning, a blessing) piv, short, definitely not proofread

♰ notes: WHAT? by far fav request - ALSO YOURE SO SWEET WHAT?? ILY BE MY BFF 4EVERA (also who wants to be a sweetheart and work with me, it would be so fun to have a partner omg)

also, can someone give me feedback on what i can improve on?? i’ve never been super great at smut writing and i really wanna get better, you can just drop it in the ask box (i already know i should be more detailed, i need tips on that) 🎀 also, what pov do y’all want these in? 1st, 3rd, or keep it 2nd??

while kit didn’t work late every day, it happened enough for you to know that he’d be extra tired when he got home. you currently stood over the sink, finishing up the dishes left over from making dinner. it was a quiet night, the house warm and dimly lit, your dog, pumpkin, curled up on the couch. a scratchy record spun on the player, the faint sound of one of frank sinatra’s christmas vinyls producing a cozy vibe in the living room.

the back door clicks, kit shuffling in and dropping his work over-shirt on the counter. “hey, suga’,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “hey, there,” you smile, feeling soft kisses being pressed against the side of your neck. kit was always a sweetheart, no matter how tired he was.

the poor thing was so overworked, you could tell. you turn, giving your husband a quick kiss. “go sit down, dinner’s on the table. i’ll make you some tea,” you offer, pushing him out of the kitchen and tossing his work shirt into the laundry room. “you’re a doll,” he grins, giving you a wink. with a playful roll of your eyes, you step back into the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove.

as you wait for the water to boil, you peek into the dining room, where kit ate dinner by alone. checking the clock on the wall, you’re surprised by how late it had actually was. you felt bad for kit, wishing there was more you could do than just make him tea.

well.

pouring the water into a mug and dropping in a tea bag, you return to kit, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “here, hon. leave the plate, we can go sit on the couch, watch some tv if you’re not too tired,” you say, rubbing his back. he smiles up at you, taking the mug into his own hand. “that sounds nice,” he nods, standing and leading you into the living room.

he sets his tea on the coffee table, shooing pumpkin away. “get off the couch, dog, you’ve got a whole bed right there,” he huffs, pumpkin grunting and flopping over on the floor. “you gonna die anytime soon?” kit teases, nudging the poor old dog with his foot. “kit,” you gasp, smacking his shoulder. he hated that damn dog, it got on his last nerve, leaving fur all over his furniture and holes in his yard, but you loved the thing.

“he can’t even move, baby, you think he’s gonna live another 3 years?” kit jokes, raising an eyebrow. (surprise, pumpkin lived another four years, much to kit’s dismay.) “i thought you loved dogs,” you scoff, bending over to pat pumpkin’s head. “that’s not a dog, that’s the devil. he stands up and talks to me when you’re not around,” he teases, smirking down at you. “oh, yeah? what’s he say?” you ask, unamused. kit pretends to think for a moment, tapping his chin. “that he’s gonna take over my house, eat all our food.”

you shake your head, standing again and putting your hands on your hips. “pumpkin loves you, you be good to him,” you scold, pointing a finger at your silly husband. he just grins, bringing your hand to his lips. he looks around, noticing how dark it’d gotten. “i’m gonna make a fire,” kit announces, moving to kneel at the fireplace, sliding in a few logs. he pulls an old lighter from his pocket, lighting some kindling, and throwing it into the mix.

pumpkin stands, trotting off once the fire is lit. “don’t you go get on my bed,” kit shouts, though pumpkin’s probably already beat him to it. you roll your eyes, sitting down next to him on the carpet. “be nice to him, he’s old,” you say, though you couldn’t seem to hold back your laugh. kit chuckles, pulling you into his side. his lips find your neck again, the crackling of the fire soft.

“you could be real nice to me, y’know,” kit says, his hand finding the hem of your dress, tugging on it. you should’ve seen that coming, but your cheeks still heat up. “kit, it’s late,” you say, putting your hand over his. “c’mon angel, i need to be in that pretty pussy. work was killin’ me today, i couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he mumbles, nipping at your shoulder.

his words drive you crazy, and not even a minute later, you’re letting him lay you back against the carpet. god, did this man have you wrapped around his finger. “you don’t even know how beautiful you are. make me loose my mind, those eyes,” he rambles, kissing your cheek and lifting your dress. you couldn’t tell if the fire was making you hot or if it was kit. he sits up on his knees, pushing his pants down with a sense of urgency.

“let me,” you tell him, hooking your finger in the band of his briefs and sliding them off. you repeat this action with your own underwear, letting the lace drop around your ankles. “i’ll be quick, i swear,” he says, tugging on your legs so they wrap loosely around his hips. “it’s alright,” you say, shaking your head. kit was always in a rush when he was tired, but you’d gotten used to the quick rounds around the house.

“is this alright,” he asks, bringing the palm of you hand to his lips as the head of his cock prods at your entrance. you nod, wiggling your hips a bit to get more comfortable. you were already dripping, something as simple as kits words could get you going. he leans down, kissing you sweetly as he buries himself in your cunt, letting out a sigh. “feels so good, always so good f’me,” he praises, kissing your chin and your nose. your hips buck against his, giving him the signal to move.

he brushes his thumb against your clit, sending a spark to your core. it wasn’t long before both of you were coming undone, kits face buried in the crook of your neck. “so, so pretty, i love you so much. my beautiful girl,” he huffs, thrusting into you one last time. you could feel his grin against your neck, you already knew he was going to say something stupid.

“maybe in nine months i’ll have two beautiful girls.”

“go to bed.”

urghh not my best?? i love him so much though

i’ve been imagining him as a girl dad because he’s the perfect girl dad but he’d be so happy to be playing catch with a son who wants to be just like him omg ☹️☹️

ok nvm just thought about him wearing a tiara and having a tea party with his daughter

i’ll probably read this later and fix any spelling mistakes but i’m exhausted

[thehistoriangirl]

Since ur doing blurbs too👀 TRICK OR TREAT! SURPRISE ME🤍🩶🖤

Yesssss, okay bestie, this is ur trick and treat :3

Hope you like it!

The Sweeter Trick

Viktor x gn!Reader----626 words---SFW

Summary: You have more than one trick under your sleeve to convince Viktor to go to bed.

Tags: Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff |

The clock had chimed midnight by now, its ticking the only company Viktor had while working on his new project.

Between the scribble of his pencil dragging among calculations and messy blueprints filled with fragments of eraser, Viktor heard the muffled rhythm of your feet against the wooden floor of the hallway. 

“Vitya…” you said, voice groggy; your figure almost shapeless with the oversized fluffy robe of your pajamas, almost like a cloak.

Viktor hummed turning to fully see you after settling his pen down, still comparing two equations to localize where the calculation had gone wrong. “Yes, my love?”

You sat in the armrest of the couch, leaning your body against the outline of the couch to rest your head against his. “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” you uttered, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I’m scared.”

He sighed, pretending to be annoyed for the interruption, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I told you not to watch that horror movie at night, dove.”

“But today’s the day to watch them!”

“It was,” he pointed out, always the smarty-pants. “It’s past midnight now. You should be in bed.”

“Please, Vikky, Vikky,” you said, pouting and giving him your best puppy eyes. "I'll fall asleep quick."

You saw his eyes flickering as he pondered his options; for once, the crouched position in the couch had given him a sore back, though he also wanted to keep going with his project before any idea could slip off his mind.

“I suppose I can take a small break,” he said, his muscles protesting when he stood up, a groan accompanying his stretches. 

He took the cane, pushing the four empty coffee cups at the center of the table to not knock them over as he passed from the living room to where you were standing in the middle of the dim hallway.

“Come, my love, let’s get you to bed,” he said, going straight to the bedroom where you had already prepared the bed in case Viktor went to sleep with you in his own will, unsuccessfully. Until now, that is.

Your boyfriend tucked you into bed, using your reflexes before he could scoop away, pulling him by the lapel of his shirt so he had no choice but to lay next to you with a sigh. 

Viktor called your name, almost naggingly. Though the sound stopped when you hugged him, making him the little spoon.

“Alright, you have your teddy bear, now go to sleep,” you heard him mumble, his breath drawing goosebumps in the crook of your neck. 

“A very handsome teddy bear,” you said, and he chuckled. 

“Goodnight, my love,” Viktor answered, his lips brushing your neck though his tone was more like a memorandum about you falling asleep than a proper goodbye. 

You looked down at him, his pale skin from days to not have gone to a walk outside, the purple eyebags under those striking golden eyes. 

Taking in his scent, of coffee and ink and citric, you kissed his forehead, bathing him in your warmth and dimming the lamp so the room was barely lit enough to see the pale skin peeking under his baggy night shirt, the hollow ends of his hipbone under the hem of his pajamas. 

When you finished taking him in, you heard Viktor’s snores filling the room, his chest moving a soothing and even motion. 

Smiling that your tactic worked, you slipped one hand toward the end of the blanket, wrapping it around his body as he scooped closer to you, his right leg climbing to rest in your thigh. 

“Goodnight, my love,” you said against his hair, nuzzling into his presence as you too, fell asleep. 

[dontexpectmuch]

hi!! firstly i just wanna let u know how much i love ur posts, you’re very talented n i enjoy ur work a lot !! id like to req a post about how jude would be when taking care of his s/o when they’re ill (i’m sick rn and its all ive been able to think about today lol) tysm in advance !! take care <3

you tiptoed quietly out of your room, trying your best to avoid drawing any attention to your movements. it felt like walking in a lion’s den, any noise and you’d immediately be noticed.

your eyelids felt heavy, your throat was itchy and your nose was stuffed, but you really wanted to make yourself some tea with honey and maybe grab some snacks. you were supposed to rest, drinking loads of water and staying in bed, but you really wanted to finish your essay, feeling restless at the thought of the deadline nearing.

“what are you doing?” a stern voice appeared from behind you, your plan of staying unnoticed going down the drain.

halting your movements, you turn around with a sheepish smile on your tired face, looking at your boyfriend whose body leaned against the kitchen doors frame. “hey, jude.” you greet him, eyes never leaving his face as he steps closer to you, arms on each side of your body, kind of caging you between the kitchen counter and his body.

“so?” he questioned again, tilting his head. his gaze was quite intense, you note, feeling nervous at his closeness.

“i wanted to drink some tea?” your answer sounded more like a question, fidgeting with your fingers and lowering your gaze to avoid his.

jude clears his throat, leaning back and crossing his arms infront of his chest, his eyebrows were drawn together, “babe!” he begins, voice laced with frustration, “i told you to tell me! you gotta rest, y’know.”

“but, jude, c’mon i’m bored! laying all day in bed with nothing to do exhausts me more than working.” you argue back, hands dancing around the air as if to highlight your point better.

“mum told me you need to rest.” jude reasons, grabbing your shoulders to lead you back to your bedroom, hands slightly massaging your tense muscles while he was at it. “i’ll get you your tea, babe.”

rolling your eyes, you sit down on your bed and look up at your boyfriend. he seemed pretty serious about his job as your caretaker, going as far as to ask his mum about how to take care of you, looking up recipes for all different kinds of soups and refusing to let you do any work, insisting that you should be resting as much as you could.

“shouldn’t you be at training?” you ask, leaning back on your hands, watching as jude lits up some candles that were in your room, mumbling something about setting the mood right.

“told them that there’s an emergency.” he replied, smiling at you. “can’t let my baby be all alone at time like this.” he comes up to you again, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

“jude, that’s too much! you can’t skip practice because of this.” you scold him, face showing your disapproval clearly, “‘ts not even serious, just a mild cold.” shaking your head, you get up and walk to your desk to grab your laptop.

jude watches you, eyes narrowed, as you walk back to your bed and lean your back against your many pillows. “what are you doing?”

“working on my essay.” you shrugged. if you can’t do anything at all, you might just finish that annoying essay.

“nah, put that back, babe.” jude moves to take your laptop away, but you act fast and turn your back facing him, shielding your laptop from his hands.

“jude, please.” you plead, sighing. jude stemmed his hands on his hips, looking at you before he also sighed.

“fine, but you’re not leavin’ this room, ‘m bein’ serious.” he comes to a decision, watching you as you happily nod.

as you continued your work, jude went back to the kitchen to make you some tea and get you your snacks, talking to his mum on the phone at the same time to complain about your behavior, hoping she’d back his point up, to no avail, though, as she also believes that jude is slightly exaggerating.

you giggled at the sight of jude concentrating on bringing your tea, beverage filled up to the brim. he looked really cute and made you feel grateful for his presence and concern for your well-being.

“you’d make a good house-husband, you know?” you point out as he cleans up your desk.

“oh, shut up.”

———————————

i like y’all or wtv 🙄

[fanfiction-blep]

hey I just wanted to say that I love ur writing ,it’s so good and i can’t wait to see more of ur Ghost series 😭❤️❤️ And I wanted to request how Na’vi Quaritch would act like after an argument?<3

Hey bby your so sweet! Part 6 should be dropping soon! This is such a cute idea.

Makeup Sex~

Warning: Smut, Arguments. Daddy kink.

"sorry" Miles muttered as he bumped into one of the human scientists.

"So you are capable of apologising" I snapped, turning my back on the significantly taller man. Ignoring the feeling of his eyes bearing into the back of my skull.

"Ya really gonna do this, in public?" I won't look at him too angry to be rational. "(Y/N)" I felt his hand rest on my shoulder his breath tickling my neck.

"Stop" I turn around facing him, the words hissing out between my teeth "You know what, lets not do this" I push past him storming out of the room. He rushes after me, I hear his footsteps slapping against the floor in rage, he hated taking our personal life out of the bedroom. He didn't like the idea of our martial issues being blasted to our colleagues. I could hear him getting closer so I dipped into the closest room, I didn't account for his extra strength and he pushed the door open. Slamming it closed behind him eyes not leaving mine, hand trailed down to the lock and clicked the mechanism. He was silent, his gaze cold.

"Are you really that mad at me?" He spoke only when he had backed me against the desk across the room my back painfully biting into the wood, his palms bracing against the surface trapping me between his body.

"Yes" I said, struggling to get the words out "You crossed a line Miles, I know I started the fight but you had no right to bri-"

"I shouldn't have said what I said, but can you admit that you shouldn't have started snapping at me at work?" He was leaning down nose centimetres away from my own.

"If you had stayed in the room when I asked, I wouldn't still be mad" I pushed my face closer to his.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I said. I should have stayed an worked it out. Now please, I cannot stand ya being mad at me" I leaned back at his words arms crossing against my chest. Eyes looking at the floor, I pouted my lips staying silent for a moment. "Princess"

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry"

"You mean it?" He hummed leaning forward I felt his hands pull at my waist lifting me into the air and placing against the desk. "Miles?" I was confused but when I met his gaze I knew what his plan was, I was mad enough that I wanted to tell him sex wouldn't fix the problem. But that stupid smirk and look in his eyes already had my panties growing damp. He would smell it in no time, there was no point in denying it. Makeup sex was the best sex. He leaned in slowly, lips pulling into a smirk. One hand pushed its way into my hair the other puling my waist flush against his own, I could feel his own arousal pressing against the bar skin of my tight. The hand on my waist removed itself from me, shifting between us. Before I could ask what he was doing, he pressed his lips against mine in a messy passionate kiss.

"Shut up and let me make it up to you"

"Yes sir" I breathed against his lips as he pulled my underwear down my legs and ripped them when they reached my knees. "Miles!" I hissed "I liked that pair"

"You like my dick more" he chuckled. Teasing my folds with the tip of his cock. My head lulling back at the feeling.

"Please don't tease me!" I breathed out anticipation pooling in my stomach.

"Your wish is my command Princess" He slams into me, my thighs instinctively squeezing body tensing as I leaned forward. I pressed my lips against his skin a desperate attempt to keep the moans escaping my throat from reaching his ears. His fingers came to pull my face up to his level. "If you dare try to hide how good I make you feel I will stop fucking you, and I won't let you cum for a week" A strangled gasp left my lips at his words.

"Daddy please" The whine that left my lips was pathetic but I couldn't help it i was putty in his hands. And he knew it.

His hips snapped into mine at a brutal pace, brining me closer to my orgasm than my pride would allow.

"You close?" He asked grunting against my shoulder. Teeth nipping at my skin. I nodded in response, he would normally force me to 'use my words' but it was too much, i clamped down hard body tensing up and spasming all at the same time.

"Fuuuuuck" a high pitched whine left my throat. Miles Stilled inside me and pulled out, still hard. "You didn't cum?" I asked him confused and almost a little hurt. He shot me a glare.

"We're not done here." He said. Stuffing my ripped underwear into his cargo pockets. "Bedroom, now" I nodded following behind him, anxiety and excitement pooling together in my abdomen. I had no idea what he was going to do to me, but I couldn't wait.

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

I loved ur Sebastian Moran thing sm 😭😭😭 ru still going to write a part two?? no pressure if u don’t feel like it 🫶🏽

First Meetings Pt 2 {Sebastian Moran}

A/n: OMG YES! Little backstory (even though no one cares) this scene is from a book I've been working on for three years now and Sebastian's character isn't actually Sebastian. BUT Sebastian is in the book as the love interest

Here is part 1

Pairing: Sebastian Moran x fem!reader

Trigger warnings: none

If that will get you to shut up, you thought and without saying anything you accepted his hand. The gasps that escaped your lips from Sebastian pulling you close to him so suddenly had you wondering why your heartbeat rose.

“How badly do you want me to stop talking?” Sebastian smirked as his hand found its place on your lower back, the other one placing your hand on his shoulder.

“You have no idea, Mr Moran.” You responded, your voice stern and cold. You made the first step and every puzzle piece fell into place the moment the two of you began dancing.

“There you go again, it’s Sebastian.”

“You missed a step.” You ignored him.

“You missed three yet I didn’t say anything, love.” You did your best to keep your expression neutral, not wanting to show him how much you wanted to argue with him.

“You missed another step.”

“If it pleases you I can miss one more so we can be even.” He smiled kindly at you and in the next second, he missed yet another step, resulting in you stepping on his foot. That only brought a small smile on your face as you watched his expression turn from a relaxed one to a pained one.

The rest of the dance was silent though you could feel Sebastian’s eyes on you the entire time. You were busy looking at the beautiful garden in front of the balcony.

Sebastian let go of your waist immediately after the music stopped.

“I am planning on leaving... I am a Colonel you see.” He said out of the blue, the moment he saw her heading back towards the pillar.

“I could not care less.”

It was a blatant lie, possibly the biggest one you had told yourself all those years. But you delivered it perfectly, proof of your work being the sudden change in Sebastian’s expression. It was barely visible but his eyebrows had dropped a little meaning that he had believed it.

The truth was that you did care. Not because the man in front of you was exceptionally handsome but because it was the first time you came across someone who wasn't just a duke, or just a lord or just... a title.

The atmosphere changed a little, which was only natural. You gave herself a slight push and walked towards him next to the marble railings. “I did not really mean that, I am…” You cleared your throat, fixing your posture. “I am sorry Mr… Sebastian.”

You watched as the black haired man slowly turned his head to face you, a sly grin on his face. “Say that again, I didn't quite hear you.” And before you could walk away from him again, Matthew grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. You slightly pushed him away to free yourself. He had placed his hands on either side of your body, leaning against the railing. You heard him let out a sigh and took a few steps away from you.

“Do I bother you that much?”

You took a deep breath. “No. But I hate how you actually make this ball a little better.”

There was a small pause before Sebastian spoke again. “I am so terribly sorry but coming from you… I cannot tell if this is a compliment or not.” He tilted his head slightly to the side and waited for an answer from you; an answer that never came.

You leaned back at the wall of the veranda and took a look inside. People were still dancing while most of the guests were gathered around the gambling tables.

“Do you play poker Mr Moran?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the poker table.

“I don’t know who you are referring to, love.”

“Sebastian.” You rolled your eyes.

“If I happen to get my hands on some cards I won’t say no.” A pause followed. “Maybe responding would be nice.”

“I had a lovely time Mr Moran.” You turned to face the blacked haired man leaning on the wall next to you. “But I am afraid I must leave.”

“I will come and visit you tomorrow.” Your eyes widened at that. “What?” Sebastian laughed. “Shouldn’t I?” He asked and placed a hand on your chin, tilting it up. “Or would you like to test me and see if I can control myself?”

“You are quite bold, sir.”

“You are adorable when you blush.” He let out a giggle and let go of your chin before moving to stand before you. “I suppose I deserved the sir but would I be so bold as to ask you for a kiss?”

“Mr Moran...” You said, his name came out almost as a warning. “How badly-”

“Do I want to kiss you?” He cut you off. “If I were to be honest ever since... our little dance”

Your heart skipped a beat but you didn’t let that show. “Feel free…” But before you could finish your sentence, Sebastian’s lips were on yours, his hands on your waist.

At that moment you were only thankful that Sebastian’s eyes were closed because you had no idea what you would do if he actually saw the blush on your face. Whether he came to see you again or not, you didn’t care. And you wouldn’t let him know that he had stolen your first kiss.

[violetc4ts]

things i noticed while thoroughly rewatching d2

i found this in my notes from back in july 2022 and stand by it. mostly mevie, including core four, ben, ben & harry, umal exes & a hint of lonnie appreciation

- at the curl up n dye, not only did mal let evie have her moment with dizzy, but as soon as dizzy said it would make her so happy to know that evie is wearing something of hers in auradon, she stopped dead. she immediately looked at evie to check on her, she knew that statement would have an impact on her. as soon as she saw the heartbroken look, she put herself back into the convo . "e, we gotta go." then when dizzy left she took evies arm and guided her to the side. she let evie have a moment to get herself together. "she's gonna be okay." when she caught evie feeling bad again, she tapped her arm and took her arm, leading her away, starting an easy conversation so lighten the mood.

- after mal says "and i am, and will always be, the girl from the isle." her eyes water and when evie looks away she looks up so she doesnt cry. then she finds a distraction by pointing to the sign

- carlos and jay making fun of evie i cant do this . "you know how spontaneous she is bro" it starts off as an excuse but its pretty fucking accurate so jay just goes "right???" and i just know evie has done some stupid fucking shit before and the boys are annoying ass brothers but wbk

- no straight man grinds his way up the king .

- i'm looking at you harry

- bens into it

- "she's not my gf anymore" yeah ben u go . make sure ur pirate crush knows ur available

- ben is the definition of :]

- EVIES CARRYING MALS BAG FOR HER :(((((

- lonnie looks like a scary dog from the pound being held on a chain lead taking a few steps back growling ready to pounce on her enemies no i will not elaborate

- i also just decided that lonnie has adhd

- evie jay carlos and lonnie looking behind mal when shes saying the plan bc they know shes in a vulnerable position with her backturned and need to be aware of every movement . lonnie is glaring in a threatening manner and standing in a position that shows she means business . jays eyes are flickering between mal and the pirates, showing he's listening but still watching for any movements. carlos is looking straight into mal's eyes. theyre communicating via body movement. evie is angled closer to mal, she's there to protect if anyone lunges at mal and watching closely for any danger

- as soon as mal turns back, evie's stance soon relaxes. she rests her arms against the sides of the bridge knowing mal no longer needs protection

- evie leaping through the air behind mal doing her little dancy dance while everyone's fighting

- evie was the one who noticed dude. after carlos went "we're dead." she subtly leaned next to him and whispered in his ear, when mal looked back for help, that's when he nodded to dude. evie saved her gf whats new

- ben getting held off the plank: :] vs ben when uma finally gives him back: :0

- mal after pinning uma "you miss me?" oh u wanna kiss so bad .

- harry is using sword fighting as an excuse to flirt with every vk such a pansexual pirate

- evie vs her heels being her best and favourite weapon

- mal i am in love with you

- descendants vs having the hottest fucking characters

- ben you dont just compare ur gf to her worst enemy and ex gf like that someone get this man a book on dating

- jay and mal being the emotionally stunted ones of the group and it works bc they understand each other and even though they bicker they love each other immensely i'm gonna punch through a wall

- "so ur not seeing happys son or anyone else." ur girlfriend is gay

- id love to go to auradon prep . like imagine the drama dude like . omg did u hear the king serenaded the new vk girl while his gf watched and then asked her to the coronation AND THEN his now ex kissed charmings son in front of him . then the kings new girls mother crashed the coronation and new girl cried and killed her with the power of friendship but then she got sad and ran away and king ben got KIDNAPPED and then at cotillion he cheated on new girl with an octopus and then they fought in water and then they kissed and kings ex was jealous of new girl so she terrorised the kingdom and turned us to STONE

- MAL CHECKING ON EVIE BEFORE TURNING TO A DRAGON

- JAY AND CARLOS CATCHING BEN WHEN HE SLIPS ON DECK IM CRYING

- EVIE MAKING JOKES :( "just a little bit"

- mal tracing patterns on evies back <3

- i started this movie four hours ago this is what happens when someone with adhd watches descendants

[eunseok-s]

three — hey google, how do i start a conversation with my enemy

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gender neutral reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol mention

genre: comedy, fluff, angst

word count: 0.6k

previous • masterlist • next

taglist: @honeyhuii @soobin-chois @fylithia @enhacolor @ja4hyvn @bambisgirl @hiqhkey @its-madi @byeolwonnie @yizhoutv @shuatm @end-hyphen @yeosangiehwa @kayleeshinee @joonsytip

a/n: pls if i was in y/n's position, i may never come to uni again 💀 this part has both ss and a written part 💗 i hope you're all having a good day! this is ur sign to drink water 🚰 the timestamps of the year on the tweets don't really matter tbh :)

As you pull your uni laptop out of your bag, and place it on the desk in front of you, an uneasy feeling washes over you that instantly makes you feel nervous. You’re not normally someone who feels nerves, so where’s this overwhelming feeling coming from?

On your left side, Josh studies your movements and nudges you in your side, "Hey, I can sense your nerves. Are you okay? If you’re worried about this pairing, try not to be. You’ll probably be stuck with me or Mingyu, let’s be honest. You’ll be fine.”

To your right side, you hear Mingyu stifle a laugh, "Could you imagine if you were paired with you-know-who?"

"You say that like he's voldemort or something."

"He might as well be," he shakes his head, "You'd think he'd get over a ruined t-shirt that happened thirteen years ago. I don't know why he's still salty."

Your conversation doesn't go unnoticed by Jeonghan, who sits merely metres away from you and scrunches his face up in disgust at the possibility of being paired with you.

Your hear your professor announce the project, along with the deadline date for turning it in which gives you and whoever you’re paired with three months to finish it. You're provided details of the project which gives you two options.

The first being that you and your partner have to come up with an idea for a new product. Like a Dragon’s Den kind of thing. It’s not necessary to have a physical product but having it drawn up is definitely key.

The second option is to create an app. So, it could be an app designed for kids, a game or an app that has the potential to help people. Creating an app sounds so exciting to you but honestly, regarding both of the options, you know you will ace either.

“I’ve randomly paired all of you with someone, and I want you to both work together. If there’s tension, come to me and we can try to resolve it but I won’t be switching anyone, so please don't ask. I trust that you guys are adult enough to resolve any conflict and work on this together, and finish it together.”

There’s a few whispers around you, a lot of them exuding excitement. Deep down, you hope you’re paired with either Joshua or Mingyu, you’d work exceptionally well with them, especially Joshua considering you both want to own your own business together once uni ends. This would be perfect for both of you.

“I made a list on Google Docs with who you’re paired with. I’ve shared the file with you, so if you want to have a look, you can make contact with your partner, get to know each other a little better and you can either start today or tomorrow. You’ll be spending a lot of time with each other so it might be worth sitting with each other here or spending time in the library, whatever suits you both best.”

The students scramble to find the shared file and check who their partner is. You can see out of the corner of your eye, Joshua already has the file up and you lean over, head rested upon his shoulder. He scrolls down to his name and you see he’s paired with Mingyu. As he scrolls down to your name, your stomach drops at the name next to yours. In bold letters, the name Yoon Jeonghan is listed as your partner.

Shit.

[qwuilty]

OK SO I LOVE UR TAKES ON P1 SO MUCH SO I GOTTA ASK… what kinda romantic partner do u think he’d be like :) ? like how he shows his love, what he loves his partner doing for him, is he over protective or not, the jealous type.. I wanna hear any of ur thoughts about how a relationship with him would go really :D

OOOOO time to Divulge into mushy headcanons cause if its not already apparent i. Do ship with p1 personally and have a lot of very gay warm feelings about him :3

So as i said in another post, i think getting into those initial phases of dating is pretty hard for him. The sudden expectations of being someone's partner and trying to be a GOOD one while also supressing anything "weird" about him tends to lead to more trouble than it's worth but the fear of them leaving him is pretty strong too. I feel like he would be one of those guys who worries at the start of a relationship if it was a fluke, if he got lucky for someone to like him, so he almost overextends himself trying to be Worthy Of Love for others.

It's probably best to get to know him a lot first before asking him out, that way he feels more comfortable around you and those expectations are less stressful, just asking him out of the blue isnt really going to work. You just gotta give him a little patience and emphasize you like him for him, not what he can do FOR you. Again i think he just has a very strong "i need to take this on and do good for others at the risk of my own health" type mentality, kinda martyr-y?

If you get him to a point where he's comfortable with you he mellows out a lot, establishing you as kind of a safe space to be around. Parallel play is a big thing for him, he doesnt want to bother others or be bothered when he's focused on something, but just being in the same room as someone and having their physical presence there is more than enough.

I still think a little of that "how the fuck did you want to date me" permiates, especially cause to be frank, i think of him as one of those people who are neurodivergent but in a way that makes him come off rude or disturbing on first impression, so he REALLY does not want to lose you and all. He's very eager to share things like shows or music he enjoys with his partner, downright shoving what he likes towards them because talking about that kinda thing with them makes him happy! And of course he'll also listen to their interests, he's not completely rude. He may have some questions and interrupt to ask them though.

He's pretty protective of his partner, not exactly posessive unless he's not doing well mentally, but he worries a lot. Expect him to offer to walk you home or keep an eye out. Maybe gets a little jealous and insecure, he doesnt want to be cause it's bad to get jealous (as far as his. Emotionally fucked parents have taught him), but he might get a little huffy or grumpy about it.

He actually keeps it pretty light on the pet names, mainly stuff like Dear, Honey, Darling, the classics. Calling him pet names will get him all flustered though and i headcanon he gets red faced pretty easily so despite his semi resting bitch face its very easy to tell when hes flustered :3c He'll probably just kind of turn away, refuse to look at them and mumble to stop. He doesnt want you to stop.

His slight flare for melodrama and writers nature does make him a pretty good writer, poetry is a little much and he tends to crumple them up out of embarassment or discouragement, but he may end up idly writing about his partner in his diary and wax a little poetics, the man has a lot of feelings. Maybe even a letter if youre out of town or if hes trying the Secret Admirer approach.

I also feel like he's the kind of guy you mention something to offhandedly and forget you even did but he remembers it and brings it back up, like if you said you like a certain kind of flower or a color he brings you something like that as a little present. It's not a super stretch to say his financial state probably isnt great considering he was getting evicted ingame, but he tries even still. There's like one post about how men love to the point of creation and i feel that very much with P1 dude, he loves to the point of making things just to make things for them or to make their life a little easier.

He's just generally a little quiet and on the more lowkey with his partner, maybe a little aloof to others who dont know him but he feels a great deal of comfort with them and has a lot of emotions internally he just. Does not want to express sometimes because he doesnt want to get made fun of for them. It doesnt mean he doesnt love them, good god he does, it just takes a little time to get him to bloom!!