#this is such an easy feeling to fall into

[rafeysdoll]

⊹ sending rafe videos of you touching yourself without him doesn’t go without a cruel punishment.

you whine loudly, hot tears falling down your pitiful sad face one by one — cheeks almost as wet as your leaky, covered pussy.

“doesn’t feel nice, does it dollface?” rafe groans between gritted teeth before pumping his second load of pearly cum on your stomach, the whole show only making you more frantic and desperate.

you whimper, thrashing your tied wrists around in a weak, hopeless attempt to somehow get out of the fuzzy handcuffs your boyfriend bound you to. “rafey!! please— please.” you hiccup, wide eyes full of despair. “i need it,” you wail.

“nah. nah you don’t fucking need it, you— you just fucking want it.” he spits back, lifting up your damp underwear at your thigh before lowering his sensitive cock and nudging it between your pussy and panties. “learn the damn difference.”

slowly, he pushes himself back and forth in, the friction of it all quickly getting him hard again — jaw slacking back down. “oh shit,” he sputters, concentrating on his pleasure.

“daddy,” you break, taking in a small shaky breath before continuing, “please, cmonn!” you plead, tight aching hole clenching around nothing.

he shakes his head, biting his lip down to conceal a broken whimper. “well— well maybe you should’ve thought twice about what you did. sending me those videos, thinking you— you could just get away it? you gotta be fucking dumb.” he ridicules, mean words sliding off his tongue easily.

it was absolutely humiliating — the way he harshly spoke, and the way it didn’t ever fail to make you collect up even more slick and arousal through your puffy folds, a soft whine pulling from your glossy lips as your poor cunt throbs in need.

you wiggle your hips a little, wanting only the smallest crumb of relief, hissing softly when his tip rubs up on your clit. “oh, there. there..” you mewl, body twitching underneath him at that slightest touch.

you finally think it’s over when he gives a light chuckle — lowering your panties down to your thighs to properly circle your nub with the end of his dick.

an obvious smirk plays on his face when you mumble low ‘thank you’s’ over and over as he trails one hand to your face, caressing your tear stained cheek before mumbling gently, “poor kitty has had enough, hm?”

you can’t help but pout, nodding weakly. “yea- yea..” you whisper pathetically, wide eyes staring up at him for empathy.

you couldn’t be more far off.

“yea? guess that’s too fucking bad. real shame.”

and as quickly as it came, it quickly stops. he withdraws his hips back from you and cuts it off completely, pulling your panties back up.

the same fingers that caressed your cheek now tap at the side of your temple. “you really, really gotta use that brain more. did— did you really think it would be that easy?” he adds.

frustration and ache quickly rises up in you, once more tugging on the handcuffs clicked to the bed, desperate to get out of your confines. desperate to just get your orgasm. “that— that was so mean! you can’t just—”

he shoves his fingers in your mouth before you can continue, shaking his head. “nah, don’t even fucking start complaining. you deserved that shit.”

a muffled sob escapes your throat, fighting the urge to instinctively suck on his fingers.

“gonna have to wait a little more, just like i did.” he seals, scoffing lightly. “it’s alright though, you can keep going for me, right? sorta owe me.”

you shut your eyes tightly, too ashamed to look at him. he was sick. utterly sick.

but.. you were perfect for each other, because you got off of it every single time.

you slowly peek open your eyes, now letting yourself gently suck on his fingers, humming against themself and nodding.

“atta girl.”

mean rafe <3 sorta hate the ending i rushed :( buttttt huge thanks to @kevsfuckingbox for helping me make this ^_^!! if you like, please give feedback and a reblog 🩷 it means so much!

tag list: @oceandriveab @imbabycowboy @sowrkitty @carolinaxvz @rafecameroninterlude @pinkribboncoco @kevsfuckingbox @hewwokitti @justagirlinherownworld @sugardonutzz @rafeysbby @prettyg1irlstears @ariahna @sugarcandydoll @rafesgiirl @fae-of-prey @jun1p3rlol

[moonstruckme]

james x shy!reader first time?🤭🤭🤭🤭

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mndi

James Potter x shy!reader ♡ 908 words

James almost feels bad about the mark he’s surely leaving on your tit, but your hands are encouraging on his back and he’s yet to learn how to deny you anything you want. 

He can feel your heartbeat in his mouth as he sucks and teases your skin. It speeds up when he lets his teeth scrape lightly. Your breathing falters. 

James can’t help himself; he grins. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Don’t be shy, angel, let me know what’s good, yeah?” 

Your reply comes soft and surprisingly teasing. “I think you already know.” 

A little laugh startles out of him, and he looks up in time to see your small smile. That smile is going to get James in trouble. 

“How’re you feeling, baby?” He runs his palms up and down your sides comfortingly. Your top half is bare, your shirt balled up and tossed into the hamper, but you’re still in your pants. “Are you ready?” 

You rub your lips together, showing your nerves. “Yeah.” You nod. James kisses you softly to try and settle you. “I’m ready.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” You nod again, looking a bit more sure this time. He smiles at you. “Can I take these off?” 

You hum. “Please,” you say, lifting your head and reaching for the button of your pants. 

James bats your hands away, nipping playfully at the underside of your jaw as he undoes them himself and then easing them down over the curve of your hips. You sit up on your elbows to watch him. Underneath, you’ve got on a pair of underwear that’s prettier than anything James has ever seen (present company excluded). He can’t take his eyes off them as he tugs your pants the rest of the way off. 

“Sweetheart.” James is delighted. “Did you wear these for me?” 

You look like you’re contemplating smothering yourself with your pillow. “Yeah,” you murmur, not looking at him.

He plants a heavy, smacking kiss on your cheek. It’s burning hot under his lips. “You’re fucking adorable,” he says, running a finger over the waistband. “I almost don’t want to take them off.” 

“Please do,” you say in a hurry. 

Something frightening close to a giggle bubbles up in James’ chest. He’s continually surprised by your bouts of boldness. 

“Whatever you say, angel.” He gets his fingers under the pretty fabric, and they join the rest of your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s not the first time you’ve been exposed to him like this, but you never seem to get used to it. James can hardly blame you; he hasn’t either. He stares openly while you cover your face with your arms, taking one of your thighs in each hand and easing them open. 

“My shy girl, all ready for me,” he coos, dragging two fingers through your slickened folds. “Fuck, I wish you could see yourself, baby, you look so pretty. Probably won’t take long at all to get you ready for me, huh?” 

He looks up, but you’re still hiding under your arms. 

When no response comes, he hums, “Or, maybe I could take my time—” 

“Jamie.” Your voice is quiet and frail, directed towards the ceiling like a prayer. “Please.” 

“Okay.” He laughs, hands moving back up you until they’re clasped around your wrists. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t play with you too much, just don’t hide from me, please?” 

James gives only the slightest tug, but you move your arms of your own volition, peering up at him warily. 

“Good girl, thank you.” He rewards you with a kiss, his hand sneaking back down between your legs. 

Your lips part in a silent gasp as his thick fingers broach your entrance, and James slips his tongue into your mouth, cock aching at the tightness of you. His other hand finds your tit. Your gummy walls constrict on his digits, and he swallows a groan. 

“Fuck, angel.” He slips in a third finger, the fit easy when you’re already so worked up. “S’like you’re sucking me in.” 

Your head falls back against the pillows, but James doesn’t hold your lack of reply against you. He finger fucks you deep and slow, curling his digits every now and again in search of that sensitive spot on your front wall. Your cunt is weeping now, wetness slipping out of you and pooling on the sheets. 

When James sets his lips to your clit, you make the sort of breathy, desperate sound he knows will echo in his dreams for the next week. 

One of your hands burrows in his hair. He spurs you on by bullying the small bead, licking and sucking until he can feel that telltale trembling of your thighs. He lifts his head, and you look relieved. 

“I’m ready,” you say through soft pants, braver now that James has wound you up so tightly. “I think I can take—” 

You cut yourself off as he spreads his fingers inside you, testing the fit and hoping to numb you out in the process. 

“Sorry, angel,” he says. “That feel okay?” 

“Yes.” You nod, urgent. “Yeah, Jamie, can you—can you please—” 

James placates you with a soft kiss to your jaw, soothing his slick-soaked hand over your hip as he undoes his pants with the other. 

“Someday,” he promises, “we’re gonna find out what happens when you don’t get your way. But for now I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

[uzurakis]

what about sfw or nsfw if you wanna take it that way of the jjk boys with clingy reader. they secretly love how much she loves/adores them.

BEING CLINGY WITH THEM?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. itadori yuuji. geto suguru. nanami kento.

n. hi lovely, thank you for requesting! i decided to go with sfw and kept it simple n easy to read. enjoy :D

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you've noticed that he's not accustomed to physical touches. every time you go in for a hug, he tenses up, his body stiffening momentarily before he relaxes into the embrace. but you can feel the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his breath catches for a split second before he surrenders to the warmth of your touch.

you know in your heart that megumi likes it even though he doesn't express it. even though his restrained demeanor often gives the impression that he is far away, the way he leans in closer to you during your embraces says plenty. and you'll know that your affection is felt when you see him glance at you and blush softly after one of your embraces.

you feel the familiar tension in his body as you pull megumi into a gentle hug. "hey, 'gumi," you say softly, "i'm here for you." he stiffens for a moment before relaxing slightly into your embrace. "i know," he replies quietly. you can feel the steady beat of his heart on yours as you hold him close, and you know that one hug at a time, your love is slowly but surely dissolving the barriers he's put up around himself.

ITADORI YUUJI. your boyfriend thrives on physical closeness, and you love how he eagerly wraps his arms around you at every opportunity. whether you're cuddled up on the couch watching movies or simply walking down the street, itadori's hand is always intertwined with yours. his touch is comforting and reassuring, and you find yourself craving it constantly.

what's even better is that itadori adores your clinginess just as much as you love his. he lights up whenever you initiate physical contact, whether it's stealing kisses or wrapping your arms around him from behind. both of you articulate the language of love in your relationship with ease; physical affection is the language. every embrace, every caress, every moment spent curled up in each other's arms deepens your relationship.

as you cuddle up to itadori on the couch, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. "i love it when you're this close to me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your crown. you smile up at him, feeling content in his embrace. "i just can't help it. being close to you feels so right," you confess. itadori chuckles softly, his steady breath warm against your body. "well, i'm not complaining. i could stay like this forever."

GETO SUGURU. there's an unspoken understanding that he's open to anything, especially your clinginess. he adores it so much that it's become a cherished part of your dynamic. you love how he welcomes your affection with open arms, never hesitating to pull you close or return your tight embraces. there's a comfort in his touch that you can't quite explain, a sense of belonging that washes over you whenever you're in his arms.

and geto? he revels in your clinginess, finding joy in every moment spent wrapped up with you. he loves the way you fit perfectly against him, as if you were made to be intertwined with each other.

he's busy making supper when you put your arms around him from behind, and he falls back into your embrace with a satisfied smile on his lips. "you know, i could get used to this," he says in a warm, gentle voice. savoring the closeness of the moment, you plant a kiss on the nape of his neck. you whisper, "me too," your heart fluttering with romance.

NANAMI KENTO. his reserved nature is evident in everything he does. he's composed, controlled, and rarely shows his emotions openly. however, there's one thing that always catches him off guard—your touch. each time you give him a hug or plant a peck on his cheek, nanami's stoic facade crumbles just a little. his breath catches, and for a fleeting moment, you see a hint of predisposition in his eyes.

it's in those moments that you feel closest to him, when his defenses are down, and he lets you in just a little bit more. and despite his reserved nature, nanami never fails to reciprocate your affection, albeit in his own subtle way.

you extend your hand to embrace nanami, and he tenses up a little at being touched by you. "i wasn't expecting that," he admits, with a trace of shock in his voice. you squeeze him tenderly and say, "i just wanted to show you how much i care." with a softening face, nanami eases into your embrace and wraps his arms around you in response, "thank you, i appreciate it."

@uzurakis

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

okay so idk what meta is but listen THE DIRECTION ON DEAD BOY DETECTIVES IS FUCKING SUPERB. UNRIVALLED. AND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT TO THE HELLSITE VOID. SO LISTEN.

transitions. between scenes. it's so easy to cross-fade, or just hard cut, or fade to black and then open the next scene. sometimes, if a piece of media is putting in a bit of effort, you'll see things like water transitioning to sky or maybe a background being continuous while the characters change or vice versa.

but dead boy detectives. the transitions are fucking flawless. and so creative, like everything about this show. creative transitions are difficult to do, and they keep getting it right. whether it's someone holding up a circle and that melds into the next scene where the railing has a circle in it, or the camera moving downwards from the floor in one location to under a table in a different location, or them falling out of mirrors, they take the tiniest of elements and turn them into transitions so fucking deliciously, and everything is so dynamic, both the camera and the scene.

and that makes it so much more impactful when there IS a hard cut. like in episode 5 (where the You Know What occurs with Jenny). the cut from the mascot at the high school scene to the butcher's shop is BRUTALLY hard, with Jenny again slicing into things with her meat cleaver, and it lends an extra air of violence to that meat cleaver--which is such great foreshadowing for what happens later (even the initial establishing shot of the butcher's shop at the start of the episode makes the cleaver in the sign flash red, drawing attention to it).

the direction helps the narrative so much, giving both atmosphere and foreshadowing without needing to fatten the dialogue with it.

and apart from all that just the general camerawork is so creative and helps with the campy feel of the show, with characters being bang in the middle of frames or with the camera holding a lovely shot for longer than a beat like Edwin and Niko cocking their heads to the side it's all such a lovely, choreographed dance between the camera, the actors, the set and the script and NGKKK.

[serafilms]

OH, WE MUST STOP MEETING LIKE THIS

patrick zweig x reader

summary: in which patrick zweig is the bolter (the bolter by taylor swift). wc: 3k

kind of an alternate timeline spinoff of the golden quartet

(rather than an au, it's more like an alternate patrick x reader centric timeline, and an exploration of their dynamic and how it intertwines with the bolter, because i listened to it again after watching challengers, and thought to myself, "wow, this song is so patrick coded.”)

You like Patrick Zweig because he makes you feel like he’s yours.

The sudden hand that claps onto your shoulder almost sends your soul into orbit as you jump in your seat, fork dropping to your tray. It is very soon forgotten.

“Patrick, oh my god!” Your arms are thrown around him, chair pushed to the side, and Patrick stumbles a little on the impact.

When you part, he’s grinning at you and you turn your head back to the table, where Art is munching on an apple with the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“Did you know he was here?” You ask him.

Art gives a shrug as he swallows. “He said he wanted to surprise you.”

You tug at Patrick’s arm to sit as you settle back into your chair.

He gives you an exaggeratedly sloppy kiss on your cheek and you cringe disgust, butterflies in your stomach all the while. “Had to surprise my favourite girl.”

“Thought Art was your favourite girl,” you quip. The blond kicks your shoe in retaliation.

“You can both be,” Patrick announces as he grabs Art’s apple and takes a bite. “So,” he says through a mouthful, “It’s Friday. What are we doing tonight?”

“Well,” you say, “I have an essay due Sunday, so I’ll be doing that.”

Patrick gives you a look. “Boo, you whore.”

“Alright, pack it up, Regina George.” The words are accompanied by an affectionate roll of your eyes.

“A guy in my calculus class is throwing a party,” Art speaks up. He snatches his apple back out of Patrick’s hands.

You let out a humming noise. “You guys can come hang afterwards. I’ll probably still be awake by then.”

Patrick studies you for a moment, contemplatively, as if you are somehow a factor in making his decision. You wonder if perhaps he wanted you to ask him to stay with you instead. But he turns back to Art and nods his agreement as an easy smirk falls onto his face.

“Sounds like a plan.”

There’s a little more idle chitchat and three-way bickering while Patrick swipes half your meal from under your nose and indulges in it as though he was the one who paid for it. You let him, partially because you’re not hungry anymore and partially because you’re not sure what he’s been eating when he’s on tour, so any nutrients you can get inside his stomach is a win.

Art lists off some of the people going to the party, and you chime in with unsolicited opinions, pieces of gossip, etc., on each of them, until eventually, your tray is empty and it’s time for you to go to class.

“I’ll catch you guys later. Don’t get too shitfaced tonight.” You try to ignore the way Patrick grazes his hand on your hip as you stand.

“No promises,” he snickers. He and Art share a look over the table.

It’s three in the morning when Patrick knocks on your door. He is decidedly shitfaced, but still not as bashed up as you thought he’d be. His hair is only slightly tousled, he doesn’t look like he’s about to fall over, and his clothes don’t even look like they’ve been haphazardly taken off and thrown back on.

Still, you gently tug him inside, hands reaching up to brush down his curls neatly.

“Come here,” you murmur. You don’t question why he came to your room instead of going back to Art’s. Nor do you question why he seems to have gone mute.

You begin helping him take his jacket off, then as he sits on your bed, his shoes. Despite being fully capable of doing so himself, he lets you take care of him. He doesn’t even stop to smirk or make a comment about the compromising position of you kneeling in front of him. Instead, he stares. Or it looks like staring. In Patrick terms, you decide that the more accurate verb is ‘gazes.’

After you’ve forced a glass of water down his throat and put his things in a pile to the side, Patrick has half tucked himself under your covers and is gazing at you – expectant, pensive.

The bed dips as you lay beside him, turning onto your side to face him. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Patrick’s hand darts out to cup your face. His eyes are half lidded, looking straight into yours. It’s a serious expression, one you so rarely see on his features. He almost looks like a different person.

His fingertips brush the side of your neck making their way down to your shoulder, your bicep then your ribcage, right near the curve of your waist. You hear his breathing deepen as your own does the same.

“I really like you, you know.”

Your breath hitches. You feel as though your lungs, heart and diaphragm have all be frozen in time.

The words shouldn’t warrant such a reaction. They shouldn’t have such a palpable effect on you, but they do. You know Patrick likes you a lot. It’s a given with the way he acts around you, seeks you out and calls you so frequently. But it’s precisely because you know that and because you know him, that you know what he really means in this moment.

Your voice comes out in a hoarse kind of whisper. “I really like you too.”

A hint of his usual smirk crosses his face, and then the next thing you know, you’re thrown in a void, and the only things you’re aware of are the warmth of his hand on your side and the press of his lips on your own.

You love Patrick Zweig because he will always come back to you.

“Hey.” There’s a smirk on Patrick’s face as you step out of the bathroom. His eyes dart up and down your figure, from the shirt you clearly stole out of his bag while he was training with Art and Tashi to the exposed skin of your legs.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling as you move to situate yourself between his legs. His arms wrap around you as you settle into him. Chest to chest, heart to heart. You can feel the steady thump in his chest through your shirt. You take the time to drink in the sight of him. Every visit feels shorter than the last, and you sometimes worry his face will fade from your memory like a thawing lake in spring. “How was practice?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Tashi keeps riding my ass about my focus during matches.”

“Come on, she just wants to help you.”

Patrick’s eyebrows raise as he gives you a squeeze. “I didn’t come visit so I could be coached.”

You smile at that. “Oh yeah? What’d you come back for then?”

A grin stretches over his face as he flips you both over, and you squeak a little on impact. “Why don’t I show you?”

Warmth blossoms in your chest as he starts kissing up your neck. “We watch your matches sometimes, you know. When I miss you. Art always sighs when you do your weird little serve. Tashi commentates most of it, though.”

You feel the stretch of his lips as he smiles slightly into your collarbone.

“She has some good points,” you say, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he bites down on your skin. “Maybe you should listen to her.”

He sighs, mumbling, “I don’t want to talk about tennis right now.”

“I know. I’m just saying – raw talent won’t always be enough.”

“I’ll deal with that when I start actually losing,” he replies in between kisses. He’s at your jaw now, lips still pressed to your skin with every word.

You hum at the vibrations on your skin, but a frown pulls at your lips. You aren’t Tashi or Art. It isn’t like you care all that much about tennis anymore, but the fact that Patrick seems to care even less worries you. His future is hanging by a thread, and it worries you most of all because you’re not even really sure if you fit in his future. You’re not sure if you’ll be there to sew it back up or standing in the distance watching it fray.

“You always do that,” you blurt.

He pulls away, looking at your eyes with a brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Run away from your problems.”

“I don’t run away from my problems,” he says, pulling back slightly. You both know he’s lying.

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried.” You bite your lip. “You haven’t had a decent conversation with your parents in two years, and I feel like you’re not thinking about your future.”

Patrick shifts away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you instead. His jaw has set as he looks at you. There’s a cold expression on his face and you want nothing more than to rewind the last 30 seconds and go back to how it was before. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek nervously.

“I don’t need you to worry about my future,” he says, voice low and steady.

Your own voice has a subtle shake in it, one that’s filled with regret. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Patrick looks at you for a moment longer, then swings his feet off the bed and heads straight for his things.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” he says quietly. He shoves his hoodie into the bag and zips it up.

Your heart clenches. “Wait, Patrick, please. I don’t want us to leave it like this.”

“I have to go. I’ll miss the last bus if I don’t.”

“You can catch it tomorrow! Your competition isn’t for another two days!” The desperation in your voice is audible. “Please. Please don’t leave.”

Patrick’s figure is still, like a photograph frozen in time. His bag rests on his shoulder. He’s two steps away from the door.

“Please stay.”

When he turns and looks at you, you can see the way his expression crumbles.

“Okay,” he mumbles.

You manage a few steps towards him, slow and hesitant. The bag slides off of his shoulder and he engulfs you into his arms. There’s a kiss pressed to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into him.

His hair brushes against your cheek as he shakes his head. “No. No, I’m sorry.”

He holds you tight in his arms as you fall asleep. The next morning, you awake to an empty bed, and a sticky note on your desk that you won’t notice for another few days.

I’m sorry.

You don’t like Patrick Zweig because he makes you cave every time.

A year fresh out of college, and your career as a journalist is flourishing. Your boss flounces up to you at your desk.

“You used to play a bit of tennis, right?”

You blink. “Uh, yeah.” You were ranked, like, 7th in the world for junior tennis before your injury, but sure, that about sums it up too.

“I need you to write a piece on the competition happening soon. It won’t be too spotlighted, since we’re not really known for our sports new, but you’ll have full control over it, since you’re the only one who knows anything about tennis.”

“Okay, no problem.”

“Great! Here’s a list of the players.”

Your eyes skim over the list half-heartedly. There were occasionally names you recognised, including – ah, there was Art. You flipped through until the end, and your gaze locked in on the last name on the page. Your heart crept into your throat.

Patrick Zweig.

“Did you know he was here too?” You struggle your way up your stairs to the apartment, grocery bags in each hand and your phone balanced between your ear and shoulder.

Art’s voice sounds muffled from the other line, probably because your ear is more on the screen than the speaker, but even so, the awkward lilt in his voice is clear as day. “Yeah, uh, he texted me.”

You sigh. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not still friends with him for my sake.”

He’s quiet for a moment. "I know. I just didn’t know how you’d feel about him being back in town."

“That’s what Tashi said too.”

“So how are you feeling about it?”

"Well," you huff as you reach near top of the stairs, "it’s not like I didn’t know he’d be at the tournament." Your eyes close for a moment, and the image of his name in font size 11 Arial appears in your mind’s eye. "I just didn’t want to think about it. I mean, it’s been ages since I’ve even spoken to him. It’s—"

"Complicated," Art finishes for you.

"Yeah." You fumble for your keys in your pocket, trying to manoeuvre the bags without dropping anything. "I’ll be fine, though. "

Art hums. You get the sense he’s thinking about something. Finally, he says, "For what it’s worth, he never wanted to hurt you, you know.”

You manage a small smile, even though he can’t see it. "I know. I’ll call you later, okay? I gotta put these groceries away."

"Sure. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah, you too." It’s a big struggle trying to get the keys out of your pocket. You barely manage to grab your phone in your other hand.

"Need some help with those?"

The sound of Patrick’s voice startles you, and you nearly drop the bags. He’s leaning against the wall next to your door with a smirk playing on his lips. Your first instinct is to hug him, then something switches and you want to punch him. With the bags in your hands, you can do neither, so you opt for staring at him as though you’ve just seen a ghost.

He still looks the same as you last saw him (not that you think about him often enough to picture that image, of course), except with an extra hint of adult despair. But still, the curls are the same, he’s still wearing shorts, he’s still clean-shaven, and his smirk is still stupid as ever. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a figure of your imagination.

You gape at him for a moment before finding your voice. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He straightens up, taking a few steps toward you. "Thought I’d surprise you."

"Well, mission accomplished," you mutter, pushing your key in the door and twisting it. Patrick follows you in, reaching to grasp at the bags in your hands. You don’t say anything as he carries them over to your counter, his eyes darting around to take in the sight of your apartment.

“Nice place. I like what you’ve done with the bookshelf,” he muses as he lifts the groceries onto the tabletop, then leans against it.

The way he moves is so familiar that it sends a jolt of déjà-vu through your stomach. A battle rages on in your mind as you struggle to figure out how to feel. On paper, you’re not necessarily on bad terms. It isn’t like you could say you had a bad breakup, since you aren’t even really sure you were dating in the first place, so you never really had any nights of crying over him, eating ice cream, and asking your friends to stop you from texting him. The two of you just stopped talking.

“Patrick. Why are you here?” Your voice cuts like a knife through the air. This is starting to feel like some sick joke from the universe. You wonder if Art knew Patrick was going to ambush you. Maybe he gave him your address.

He looks at you, his easy smile dropping for a moment. “I wanted to see you.”

You stay quiet. His expression is uncomfortably serious, and you can see him waiting for a response. But the truth is you don’t know what to say. You opt instead for moving towards the groceries beside him and putting them away. Patrick just watches you.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "how’ve you been?"

"Busy," you reply, picking up a carton of milk to put in the refrigerator. "Work’s been hectic."

You see him nod from the corner of your eye. "I’ve heard. Your articles are really good."

You glance at him, surprised. "You read them?"

"Of course." His expression softens. "I always keep up with what you’re doing."

A lump forms in your throat, and you focus on moving around the jars in your fridge door aimlessly to avoid looking at him. "Thanks."

It’s silent once more as you finish putting everything away, though you can feel Patrick’s eyes in the back of your head the whole time.

His eyes meet yours when you finally turn back to face him, and for a moment, he looks vulnerable. He steps closer, reaching out to take your hand. "I missed you."

Your heart clenches. It becomes easier to decide then. You don’t like Patrick Zweig. Can’t stand him, really. You hate him. You hate that just his hand in yours and three little words can make your resolve crumble like a statue smashed to rubble.

Against the better judgement of every cell in your brain, you say, “I missed you too.”

It’s nothing to do with you. You know that. As he kisses you, as he slips his hands under your shirt, as he lies in bed with you, traces patterns on your skin and clings to you like a lifeline, you know. Patrick is yours, and you are his. But he’s always making promises he can’t keep, starting things he cannot finish, running away from everything to no end.

Perhaps one day, things will be different. But for now, you stare at the empty space in your bed, the only trace of his presence being the lingering scent of his cologne. You sigh, draw open the curtains and allow the morning sun to seep into your room.

You hate Patrick Zweig because he will never stay.

[we-are-maladaptive]

a story in which katsuki's bratty son tries to blackmail his mother! how terrible

— characters. katsuki, reader, katsuma (the son)

— contents. fluff, katsuma is a little shit

— word count. 600

— authors note. GJFCK MFGVFDXK GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRDOMESTICTRASFJNRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGJBJFNVDSLM

Your son is alot like his father, in good ways mostly.

He stands up for himself at school, and is mostly independent. For the most part, Katsuma was a pretty easy kid.

However, he can also be the most major little shit on the planet, much like in the situation you're in now. He's learned what blackmail is, and he loves it.

You were in the kitchen, baking cookies, when you heard Katsuma’s voice from the living room. "Ma! What's this?" he yelled.

You turned to see your five-year-old holding the pregnancy test you had thrown away earlier.

Oh no.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Katsuma, where did you find that?" you asked, trying to stay calm.

"In the trash," he said with a mischievous grin. "I'm gon' tell Dad unless you give me extra cookies- and I wan' that brand new hero figurine at the store...AND I wan' my own bb gun- AND!!! I wan' a brand new pair of boo-"

"Katsuma." you sighed. You've known your son to be a major handful all his life, but also know realizing he did indeed have you in a tight spot. "Katsuma, this is important. I wanted to tell your dad in a special way."

Katsuma pouted, crossing his arms. "Fine, but I still want extra cookies...and the figure...an' can I still have the bb gun?" You sighed once more.

"Alright, you can have two extra cookies- AND the figurine... but you have to promise to keep this a secret for now," you said, hoping to buy some time.

"Deal," he said, his eyes gleaming with pride.

As you handed him the cookies, you couldn't help but feel frustrated, yet a bit amused. Katsuma was a lot like his father—brash, stubborn, and always wanting to be in control. You watched as he stuffed the cookies into his mouth, crumbs falling everywhere, and shook your head with a small smile.

Just then, you heard the front door open. Katsuki walked in, looking as intense as ever. "What's going on in here, hm?" he asked, sensing the tension.

Katsuma jumped in before you could speak. "Mom's got a secret, but she won't tell me!"

You shot a look at Katsuma, then turned to Katsuki. "It's not like that! I just…I found out something today and wanted to surprise you..."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What's that?"

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was now or never. "Katsuki, I’m pregnant. We're having another baby."

For a moment, he just stared at you, processing the news. Then, a rare, genuine smile spread across his face. it was sadly short lived, and replaced with a smirk instead. "Oh really?".

Katsuma looked between the two of you, his earlier mischief forgotten. "So, does that mean I get a little brother or sister to boss around?"

"Katsuma, you will not be bossing your them around." you said, ruffling his hair. "You have to be a good big brother, okay?"

Katsuma's eyes widened. "I’ll be the best big brother ever! Can I teach them how to play hero games?"

You chuckled. "Sure, but you'll also need to help take care of them."

Katsuki walked over and pulled you into a gentle hug. "I'm really happy, you know," he said quietly. "This is good news."

You relaxed into his embrace, feeling a wave of relief. "I was so nervous about telling you."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Why? You know I’m always here for you, no matter what."

Katsuma tugged at Katsuki’s pant leg. "Dad, does this mean we need to buy more baby stuff?"

Katsuki laughed. "Yeah, it does. And you can help pick it out." "Good! Yknow dad...when we go to the store,I wanted to see if you could buy me a new figurine..or a bb gun...or a brand new pair of boo-" "No." "Oh.. DAMNIT!"

The rest of the evening was filled with excited chatter about the new baby. Katsuma kept asking questions about what it would be like to have a sibling, while Katsuki suggested names and joked about teaching the new baby how to be tough like him.

Later, after dinner, you all sat together in the living room. Katsuma was snuggled between you and Katsuki, half-asleep from all the excitement.

Katsuki looked over at you, his expression softer than usual. "You know, I never imagined myself having a family like this," he admitted. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Me neither. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?"

He nodded, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "Yeah, we have. And it’s only going to get better from here."

[tia-222]

Hey Tia, Yesterday I read some of your posts and decided to put into practice what you said, I did holotropic breathing and I put some music on in the background (on low volume) just so I wouldn't fall asleep, I just relaxed and let myself go without any rush in exactly 6 minutes I couldn't feel my body and I couldn't hear the audio anymore. The void is really very easy to enter, it becomes even easier when you don't despair or force yourself to do it, I didn't say anything because at the exact moment I was going to do that, my neighbors started fighting and the woman was shouting a lot, so I got scared but I will enter the void again and I will bring my success story. Thank you Tia, you make everything lighter and really make us understand that the void is very easy to enter and that you don't need to do thousands of methods, I think that simplifying and using several methods creates the belief that it is something complicated, when in fact it is very easy and you don't need all that

Hiii my love, wow congratulations!! <3

I don't remember making a holotropic breathing post, just the " wim hof method" breathing one. The holotropic breathing post is pinks ♡, so credit to her! Wow 6 minutes, you guys see how easy it is when you let go and just relax. You are welcome, angel! I'm proud of youu and I can't wait to hear your full success story. Is it just me cuz why does everyone when they enter the void there's always someone to disturb y'all 😭😭

Holotropic breathing :

Credit pink <3

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict follows you and Lord Montclair with a frown on his face. He seems to love to torture himself when he agreed to accompany Daphne as she chaperones your promenade with the marquess.

His eyes glance down to your arm hooked around the other man's and his brows furrow. Daphne looks up at her brother with a smirk, "Something the matter, brother?"

Benedict suddenly looks away clearing his throat, "No, no. Just, um, thinking about a piece I need to work on."

Daphne hums unconvinced, looking back at you and Lord Montclair, "They do make a handsome couple, do they not?"

"I suppose," Benedict replies as he casts his eyes down, paying more attention to the path rather than you and the marquess.

"Are you upset with me?" Daphne asks, pulling her arm away from her brother's and stopping to look at him.

Benedict looks at her with confusion, "Should I be?"

She purses her lips, "Well, I was the one who introduced the marquess to Y/N and considering your feelings-"

"Please, Daphne, I already endure this from Anthony and Kate. I do not wish to hear more of it from you," he takes a quick glance your way as the distance grows wider between you and he, "I may love her, but I cannot give her what she desires. He can," he nods to Lord Montclair.

Daphne sighs, hooking her arm around her brother's once more, "Regardless, I cannot imagine this being easy for you."

The second eldest Bridgerton sighs, "'Tis not. Hopefully, with time, it will be."

_____________________________

You hide your laughter behind your fan as you walk the path with Lord Montclair. He relays a memory he had of when he was a boy. How he tried to capture a frog and in his attempts, it jumped on his face, causing him to fall into a lake.

"That reminds me of when I was a child. I was probably two and ten years old. Be-I mean Mister Bridgerton and myself decided to sneak away onto a row boat. We had seen a fish into the lake and leaned over the edge too much. We both fell in. Our mamas were so upset with us, but we had a good laugh," you state with a giggle.

Lord Montclair chuckles, "So you have known the Bridgertons for a while?"

You nod, "Almost my entire life. They are like my second family."

"And you are the closest with the second eldest, Benedict?" the marquess asks with intrigue as he guides you to a bench for some rest.

You nod, following him to sit, "Yes. He is my dearest of friends."

Lord Montclair clears his throat, leaning closer to you, "I do not want to seem too forward, Miss L/N, but I think I have made my interest quite clear. Is it safe for me to assume that there are no romantic feelings between you and Mr. Bridgerton considering," he gestures between you and him.

You cast your eyes towards Benedict, who is now entertaining two women in conversation while Daphne speaks with their mama. You feel a twinge of jealousy as the women laugh with Benedict. No. You shouldn't feel this way. He is not yours. He never will be.

You turn back to Lord Montclair and give him a small smile, "I can assure you, my Lord, there is nothing between Mister Bridgerton and myself except for friendship."

Happy with your response, Lord Montclair changes the subject and shares another story of his youth. You nod, smile, and laugh at the appropriate times, occasionally glancing back at Benedict. Every once in a while, your eyes will meet and then look away. Your heart strings tug a little more with each wavering gaze.

It seems you like to torture yourself since you cannot help but keep your eyes away from Benedict entertaining women that wasn't you.

_______________

After your promenade and lunch with Lord Montclair and the Bridgertons, you arrive home to see your father waiting for you.

His eyes were glossy and his body slightly swaying, signifying that he was already drunk once more.

"I heard a marquess is courting you," he practically mumbles out.

"Yes, papa. I am certain he will propose before the end of the month," you respond plainly, no emotion and no love for the man who you are now unfortunate to call your father.

He hums, "And does he know of your...hobbies?"

"He only knows I enjoy reading poetry, not writing it."

"Good. A man does not want a woman who is too well-read."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to suffer from a potential strike to your face like previously, "Of course, papa." You dryly reply and head to your room.

You proceed to isolate yourself for the rest of the day. Although Lord Montclair is exactly the man many women would kill to have court them, you still cannot find yourself to fall for him completely. You don't think you ever could. You've lived a majority of your life loving Benedict Bridgerton, you aren't sure how else to live. Even if Benedict could never love you back, you will still continue to hold him dear in the depths of your heart for you and only you to know.

You didn't lie to your father that you are sure Lord Montclair will propose soon. He had spoke of marriage, children, just your potential future in general. Both of your desires and goals line up perfectly with one another and you are certain he sees it to.

Now only to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable.

________________

Benedict's heart drops to his stomach when he hears the news from Daphne: Lord Montclair plans to propose to you soon.

Obviously, he knew it was bound to happen. Of course he would propose to you. You, perfect, beautiful, intelligent, cunning, funny, wonderful you.

It was inevitable and it was becoming even more real that Benedict would lose you forever.

It was then that Benedict decided to drown himself in his art. Go to parties, brothels, bars, whatever he can as much as possible to forget the pain in his heart.

If only he wasn't so stubborn and truly listen to his heart and his family. He could be with you and give you everything you want and deserve.

But alas, he was just too blind and hard headed to see it.

Lady Whistledown, however, made it well known to the Ton of how she as well as a majority of Mayfair, expected him and you to marry.

__________________

Two weeks. It took two weeks of courting until Lord Montclair asked your father's permission to marry you. It was an easy "yes" from him, obviously. With the status of being the marquess and willing to pay well over your dowery, well, how can your father refuse?

Even though you were expecting it, you still felt hesitant. Your aunt joined you in the sitting room, watching as Lord Montclair, James, as you learned his name was, knelt down and presented his mother's beautiful ring.

"Mon cher, you have made me so incredibly happy these past few weeks. I think we can have an amazing future together. Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

You know you should say yes. But your mind immediately goes to Benedict. Your best friend, your first love, the man you saw yourself marrying and growing old with. But he didn't feel the same. If he did, he would've courted and proposed to you by now.

It was officially time to let go of your silly fantasies and face reality.

"Yes, of course," you reply breathlessly and James slips the ring onto your finger.

Aunt Eliza lets out a breath of relief, "I am so incredibly happy for you two! I plan to hold a ball in your honor at the end of the week, so be prepared for the fan fair that will be headed your way."

James takes your hand and kisses it, "I shall go. I must begin contacting my family so they can be here for the wedding."

"Of course, my Lord."

James smiles at you sweetly, "You may call me James now, mon cher."

You return a sweet smile back, "Of course, James. Then you may call me Y/N."

"I will see you later, future Marchioness Montclair," he gives you a wink and heads out.

You look down at the ring, the diamond sparkling in the sun. Your aunt rushes to your side and kisses your temple, "You did it, dear. You did it. You will be free soon enough."

You gulp and nod at your aunt, "Yes. I will be free."

____________________

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It seems that wedding bells are to be heard soon with now the engagement of Miss Y/N L/N and the Most Honorable Marquess, Lord James Montclair. The marquess had turned many heads since his arrival with Duchess Bridgerton. Many ladies of the Ton had hoped for a courtship from him. However, it was quite the surprise that our very own Miss L/N, one who has previously rejected the idea of marriage, set her sights on the marquess and lured him with her charm.

As I am sure many of you are disappointed by the engagement, I am certain no one is as disappointed as the second eldest Bridgerton son, Benedict Bridgerton. For we all knew those two were always at each other's side. This author thinks that perhaps the second eldest never proposed to Miss L/N because he knew he could never provide for her as a second son.

Nevertheless, I do look forward to see how Miss L/N will take to the role of marchioness. Will she crack under pressure or will it be smooth sailing? This author waits in anticipation.

Benedict crumples up Lady Whistledown's newest edition, tossing it across the room. His family's eyes are all on him.

His heart rate quickens, he feels a sweat coming on. The walls are closing in and he can't breathe. He doesn't like how his family looks at him with pity. They all know now. They know how he feels for you. There is a chance know how he feels for you now. A part of him hopes that you don't believe what Whistledown has to say. Not everything she says is always factual. Nevertheless, it makes the Ton talk.

"Excuse me," he abruptly stands from his place and Anthony stands with him, "Brother-"

"Please, don't. I need a moment alone," Benedict quickly says as he rushes out of the room.

[irisintheafterglow]

Hey there!

Saw your requests were open (if it isnt,just ignore this)

But i just love your satoru x reader and co parenting megumi????and i would KILL to see like, something bad happening to reader (like a mission going wrong,she passing out or getting sick or all) and boys just panicking cause satoru loves reader,and megumi sees her as his mother???

Sorry,im a sucker for hurt/comfort trope

Lots of love!!! you're amazing!

aww this is so cute, thank you for the request anon <3 wrote it as sick fic instead of injury since i,,,, have written like 3 things with that trope recently so let's do a fluffy sick fic instead lol. hope you like it :))

cw/tags: established relationship (pet names babe, baby, sweetheart), gn!reader, some explicit language, mention of eating

"the kid thinks you're gonna die," your boyfriend says as he enters your room, setting a grocery bag on your desk and digging around for the bottle of orange juice. "you're starting to worry me too, honestly."

"i'm not gonna die, babe; i think it's just the flu," you groan, propping yourself on an elbow and attempting to sit up. you're unsuccessful, the throbbing in your head and the chills in your arms too overwhelming. you fall back against the pillow with a less-than-ceremonial thump. satoru crouches in front of you, eyebrows drawn and forehead wrinkled in concern. he pulls down his blindfold and you're met with the bright blue eyes you loved so much.

"yep. looks like you're dying soon," he declares with a curt nod and you scoff, a chuckle turning into an aggressive fit of coughing. satoru is lightning-quick, grabbing a new bottle of water and snapping off the cap before holding it up to your lips. "here, drink." you push his hands away, wordlessly insisting that you can drink on your own while still hacking relentlessly. "nuh-uh, just let me help you." with a frown, you let him tilt the bottle toward you and take a few careful sips. "you are frustratingly stubborn," he sighs.

"i have to be if i need to deal with you all the time," you joke hoarsely, sips of water becoming gulps.

"yeah, but you love me for it," he finishes and you agree with a shrug. "easy, there," he warns as you keep downing the water. "don't want you choking again."

"i'm fine, satoru."

"you've been working yourself too much, you know."

"hypocrite," you counter and he frowns, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. you were right, even though he didn't want to admit it. satoru was always the first one to say that someone was working too hard, just to take the burden for himself. it was a red flag, you said a few weeks ago over convenience store sushi; you also noted his 'concerningly inflated ego, lack of spatial awareness, and general disinterest in things that could be momentarily unpleasant.' you'd finished it, though, with a long-winded comment about how his red flags, in all their scarlet glory, made satoru himself. maybe it was just his melodrama, but he'd cut off his hand if it meant you were able to joke like that again.

"i'm serious. i think your body's shutting down because-"

"because i've been away too long, i know. i don't need a lecture right now, satoru." you swallow the last of the water and settle back onto your pillow, grumbling when you feel the side of your bed sink with your boyfriend's weight. "baby, you're gonna get sick, too."

"that means i get to take a day or two off," he points out, fitting his face into the divot between your shoulder and neck. despite your complaints, he throws off the comforter and replaces the blankets with his arms. "don't grrrr me, babe. you need to burn off your fever and i run warmer than any of these sheets."

"aren't i sweaty and stinky and yucky? how can you be touching me when i'm all gross?"

"you mean, how can i love on you right now when you're just being a human?"

"mhmm. you don't find it gross?"

"of course not, sweetheart," he reassures you with a kiss to your shoulder. "i'd be a real dickhead if i only loved you when you were feeling 100%."

"yeah, you're only half a dickhead for other reasons," you murmur into the pillowcase and he laughs, the sound reverberating against your back. before your eyes settle shut, you catch the door of your room opening and vaguely make out a messy head of black hair peeking around the corner. "megs?"

"oi, adults only," the other occupant of the bed threatens, pulling you closer and attempting to flip you to your other side to face him. you unbuckle satoru from around you, though, and manage to sit up. megumi pads carefully into the room, like you'd crumble into sand if his steps were too loud. "come in, i guess," your boyfriend says dramatically with a wave of his hand.

"satoru, i swear-"

"sorry, baby. shutting up." satoru flops back onto your bed and you reach out to megumi, who stares at your hand for a moment before rushing into your arms. "hey, megs. since you're here, you mind grabbing me a soda from the breakroom?"

"i thought you were shutting up, satoru," you remind him, voice poisonously sweet. he echoes your reminder in a mockingly high-pitched voice. "i'm gonna kick you out of my room if you don't stop, mister."

"you wouldn't dare," he gasps.

"oh, i would."

"yeah," he concedes. "you definitely would, but i love you for it." with satoru temporarily placated, you return your attention to the small child in your arms.

"you doing okay, megs?" he nods, eyes shut against your chest and holding you tight. "i'm not gonna die, buddy. i promise." you rub your hand up and down his back, combing your fingers through his hair when you're abruptly swung backward onto the bed. "jeez, satoru, what are you-"

"get the kid, it's nap time," he mumbles with finality, resecuring his body around yours and motioning for megumi to climb in. he does, and you drift off sandwiched between your boys, feeling a little lighter for the first time in days.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[bbieangel]

Too Sweet (18+)

No outbreak!Joel x Fem!reader

A/N: This idea came to me while listening to Too Sweet by Hozier. It's my first time writing smut lol I hope it came out well.

Summary: You wake up at 5 am to get ready for your shift at the hospital and find Joel downstairs drinking coffee. You can't go back to sleep so he has a few ideas to make you tired.

18+ Warnings: unprotected p in v, oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, joel likes to be dominant, age gap (at least 10 years), reader is submissive, breast play, size kink. not a warning but there's aftercare, a sweet moment after the intense session they had.

Word count: 7k

Hope you like it! Enjoy <3

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You woke up at 5 am, to start prepping for your shift. As a nurse, this wasn't out of the ordinary for you. On the contrary, it was a good day; you had managed to sleep a good 6 hours after a week of endless shifts, lots and lots of people filling the ER that had you speeding from one unit to another. One bed to another. It was exhausting, but you couldn't deny that you loved your job.

Still, you missed your boyfriend. Joel Miller. When you opened your eyes and patted beside you, the other half of the bed was empty. Taken back, you wrapped yourself on a robe and went downstairs to find him drinking coffee while reading a book.

"Joel.. what– it's five am."

You mumbled, rubbing your eyes while a yawn came out of your mouth.

He chuckled at how adorable you looked, your hair all messy and your voice still raspy from sleeping.

"Jus' wasn't tired."

He responded, and pulled you into his lap.

"But it's.. you should sleep. I don't understand your habit of always going to sleep at sunrise."

You spoke and buried your face in his neck, taking a deep inhale of his scent that sent shivers down your spine.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and kisses your cheek.

"I should ask you the same question, what are ya doin' awake?"

You looked at him confused.

"I have my shift today."

You told him, thinking it was obvious as he already knew.

"Sweetheart.. your shift is tomorrow. Today's your day off."

He mumbled and placed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"No.. wait, today is friday, isn't it?"

"Nope, it's thursday, dear."

His confirmation made you sigh frustrated, you had mixed the days. But you were already up, and tiredness didn't seem to be settling back into you.

"Fuck.."

You whispered.

"I'm so dumb."

He chuckled and rubbed your back.

"You're not. Accidents happen. Go back to bed, darlin'."

"I.. I can't. I'm awake already, I'll be tosing around bed for like an hour before I even begin to feel tired."

You spoke, a hint of weariness behind your eyes even though you knew falling asleep again wasn't that easy for you.

"What about.. I help you relax?"

He asked into your ear, his voice a low purr that made your stomach twist with pleasure.

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

You asked, a smirk now adorning your face.

He lifted you up and carried you to the bedroom upstairs, while you laughed.

"Okay, okay. I understand."

You spoke with a smile as he laid you down in bed.

He took off your robe and threw it away, leaving you only in your underwear.

He hovered over you, one knee spreading your legs.

"You'll be exhausted after this, hun."

He whispered and started to kiss on your neck, nibbling at some point. You couldn't help but squirm under him, he knew your sensitive spots by memory now.

Your hands went up to his head and played with the soft curls there, scratching his scalp softly.

Your underwear was drenched, having just woken up you were more sensitive than you could've been at any other time in the day.

And he knew it.

His kisses trailed down your chest and he pulled out one of your breasts from your bra, groaning before wrapping his mouth against your nipple and starting to suck on it. His tongue twirling around it, while his other hand played with your other breast. Pinching your nipple softly, just enough to make your breathing go faster.

You arched your back and let out a moan, your nails now digging onto his back.

"There's my girl.. I wanna hear you, don't hold back."

He spoke, massaging both of your breasts before going lower, his mouth pressing kisses below your stomach.

You cursed under your breath and pushed his head, at which he let out a low chuckle.

"Needy, ain't ya? So impatient.."

He spoke in a husky tone and pressed his face against your sticky underwear, that showed a big stain.

He groaned and let out a soft moan, pulling your underwear until it was off of you. He threw it across the room, his hot breath sending tingles to your core.

"Joel.. please, fuck."

You whined, spreading your legs wider now.

"Shh, easy now. Who's in charge here?"

He asked in a more serious tone, looking at you. His eyes were dark, desire being evident behind them.

"Y-You are.."

You spoke, submitting to him almost instantly.

"Glad to hear."

He said and the tip of his tongue slid through your folds. You couldn't help but mumble some nonsense, your patience was running low as he took his sweet time to make you feel good.

Just as you were going to beg him, he buried his face on your cunt. His mouth wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it, his tongue going around it and twisting like his only purpose in life was to drive you insane by giving you so much pleasure.

You moaned his name, loud, which seemed to only motivate him more as he slid two fingers inside of you. So easy, as you were already drenched.

"Hands off, sweetheart. You know the rules."

He said as you started tugging at his hair. With a wine you complied, and placed your hands by your sides.

"You're being so good to me today.."

He mumbled as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching you for what was next.

"Joel.. I need it now. Please."

You spoke desperately while looking into his eyes, which only seemed to darken even more as you pladed.

Without saying a word, he stepped back from you and took off his boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing cock. He was already on edge just by hearing you moan for him, and take in the taste of your core.

Hovering over you again, he spread your legs more. He placed one on his shoulder and gave you a wink.

You jumped and whimpered when the tip of his length aligned in your entrance.

"It's okay. Ya know how to take me well.."

He whispered as he started inserting himself into you, slowly, spreading you open.

Your walls tightened against him, as his long dick made its way into you.

He stroked you thigh softly, squeezing it without too much force.

"So good for me. You're so good."

He whispered and began moving slowly in and out of you, making your breath get caught up on your throat.

He pinned your hands on top of your head with one hand, while the other gripped on your hip and started going faster, circling his hips to find that sweet spot of yours.

You gasped when he found it, and he grinned at your reaction, only to start pounding into it with more force than before.

"J-Joel I ca– I can't.."

You whined, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lower lip to try not to scream.

"No, no. What have I told ya?"

He said as he freed your lower lip from your teeth.

"But I–"

"I don't care."

He said and moved faster into you.

"I wanna hear every little sound that comes out of your pretty mouth, understood?"

He said, his dominant tone and demeanor made you get closer to the imminent orgasm.

"Y-Yes.. Sorry."

You mumbled while you rocked your hips against his, your stomach tightening and growing warmer.

He noticed the change in your breathing, your moans; it all indicated that you were close.

"C'mon baby, give it to me. Come on."

He encouraged you and his thumb started to rub against your clip, just enough to send you over the edge so you could reach that sweet release.

Your hands wrapped around him as you reached the orgasm, feeling how your walls were tightening around him, something that drove him crazy every time.

When you came down from cloud nine, you looked over at him. A few drops of sweat had formed on his forehead, his chest had freckles all over it; he looked so good helping you ride out the last seconds of your release.

"Take it out."

You demanded after catching your breath.

"N-No, sweetheart, I'm almost there, I–"

"I want it in my mouth. Now."

You spoke and his pupils dilated, nodding as he did what you said for the first time that day.

He laid down on his stomach, his chest rising up and down rapidly, showing how aroused and excited he was.

You wrapped your lips around his length, and started pumping it with your hand. Your tongue moved around his throbbing head, sucking on it until it was completely wet.

"Oh, fuck, darlin'.."

He groaned, his hands clenching onto the sheets until his knuckles turned white.

You pushed it deeper into your mouth, your lips almost touching his testicles at this point, which made him jump and let out a loud gasp.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna– Please.."

That was all the warning he gave you before coming inside of your mouth, painting your walls. You continued sucking until the last drop of his release was out, and inside of your mouth.

You looked into his eyes as you swallowed, the salty mixture dripping from your lips.

He laid in bed exhausted, but still managed to pull you by his side. He wiped your mouth with his thumb, and cuddled you against him.

"That was.. so, so good."

He whispered, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"You were the one trying to make me exhausted. And let me tell ya, it worked."

You chuckled as you put the blanket and the cover on top of you and him, wrapping you both in a cocoon.

He let out a small laugh and pressed his face against your neck.

"I'm always willing to make my pretty girl feel good."

He mumbled, his voice becoming raspy again. You could tell he was tired too.

You traced imaginary shapes on his chest, and scratched his scalp softly which made him let out a soft hum.

"Let's sleep, honey."

You whispered and he nodded softly. You chuckled, finding it too amusing when he was in that state of pure softness, letting his guard down so you could take care of him.

"I love you."

He mumbled, you could tell he was drifting off to sleep but still wanted to let you know you were loved by him.

"I love you too, hun."

You whispered and shifted your body until you were comfortable, letting yourself fall into slumber with him wrapping your arms around you. At that moment nothing else mattered, just you two.

[theemissuniverse]

“F IS FOR FLIRTING” BI-HAN X COMEDIC RELIEF FEM!READER

SUMMARY : Bi-Han is aware of your crush on him but decides to spar with you

A/N : not proof read. Just wanted to post something. Let me know what I should do next

Bi-Han absolutely could not wrap his head around the idea of you having a crush on him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew you had a crush on him. The way you spoke to him, the things you said under your breath, your actions. They all pointed to you having feelings for him.

And he wasn’t happy about it one bit.

This time, you had baked him fresh chocolate chip cookies. You walked over to him where Kuai Liang and Tomas were.

“Hi, Bi-Han.”

Bi-Han didn’t look up to meet your eyes. He continued to put his wraps on his hands. “Hello, (Y/N).” He said with zero emotion.

“I baked some cookies for you.” You held out your hands for him to take the cookies.

“I don’t eat sweets.”

“Oh…”

Bi-Han heard someone clear his throat. He looked over and saw Kuai Liang motion for him to take them. He rolled his eyes slightly before taking the cookies away from you. “Fine. I’ll take them.”

You smiled at him. “I was wondering if you could help me and spar with me.”

Bi-Han sets the cookies aside and almost laughs at you. “I do not spar with female warriors.”

Before you could say something, Kuai Liang spoke. “But he does today.”

Bi-Han gave Kuai Liang a death stare before ultimately sighing and standing up straight. “Fine.” He walks over to the center a little and you follow him. He gets into his fighting stance. “Just don’t be surprised when-“

You didn’t even let him finish. You immediately kicked him in his stomach. He didn’t have the chance to block it. Then you spun around and kicked him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground.

Bi-Han fell to the ground and grunted a little. He was surprised. Even if you did take him by surprise, usually he would be able to block it with the second hit.

“Sorry.” You held out your hand to help him up.

Bi-Han stared at your hand for a moment before taking it. You helped him up. “How did you do that?”

You giggled slightly. “Do you think Liu Kang chose me as champion for show?”

Bi-Han squinted, irritated by your comment but got back into fighting stance. “I’m not going easy on you.”

“I definitely don’t want you too.”

Bi-Han went to hit you but you blocked it with ease. He went to kick at your legs but you grabbed his leg and threw him off of you.

He went to punch your gut and you blocked it. You spun around and slapped him across the face with your hand.

Bi-Han felt his face. For the first time he had ever fought a woman, the hit hurt.

He saw you smile so innocently. And he didn’t understand how he was starting to find you attractive.

From the way you could keep up with him and how cute you looked when you did it. He never even noticed how good you looked until now.

Bi-Han straightened himself up a little. The two of you were walking in circles, eyeing another.

“I’m beating you with no magic. How does it feel frosty?” You questioned him but it was all playful.

Bi-Han was still in amazement that not even your snarky comment irritated him. “Don’t get full of yourself.”

“Don’t be grumpy. Be better.”

Your confidence was even more attractive and he couldn’t help but notice how you carried yourself.

This entire time you had been vulnerable of your crush, not caring if he had reciprocated his feelings for you. You said and did everything with the utmost confidence and he found it incredibly sexy.

He was starting to see why his brother was pushing him to you.

The two of you stood facing eye to eye. You stared down at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

You pointed behind him. “Hey! Look over there!”

Bi-Han gave you a look. “Do you really believe I’m falling for that?”

You shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

You went to hit him and Bi-Han blocked it. You tried to use your other hand to hit him but he grabbed onto your arm.

He kicked you in the stomach and you hissed in pain. He went to kick at you again but you dodged it.

Being off his guard, you kicked him in the back. He stumbled onto the ground. You tried to stomp on him but he moved quick.

He swept your feet which made you fall to the ground. He got on top of you and made his hand ice cold. “Concede?”

You laughed in his face. “Jokes on you but I’m into this.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Bi-Han pressed his hand on your stomach and you instantly felt cold. Your entire body was shaking. You couldn’t move as he had you pinned down.

He was waiting for your surrender but you didn’t let up. He tilted his head at you. Then placed his hand harder on you. Your skin was turning blue. “You know I only have one more setting before you freeze to death right?”

You hugged, shivering to your core. “Fine. I concede. Or whatever.”

When Bi-Han pulled away from you, you instantly felt the cold go away.

He stood up from the ground and held his hand for you to take. “Not bad.” He said. “But you couldn’t beat me.”

You shrugged at his statement. “Who said I planned to beat you?” You dusted yourself off. “And I did pretty good since you cheated and used your magic.”

Bi-Han laughed. “There are no rules to kombat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off and went to walk away.

Bi-Han stopped you. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. Maybe even too close for talking distance. It shocked you a little.

Then he said something even more shocking.

“Same time tomorrow?”

The question brought an instant smile to your face. You started to giggle and nod. Bi-Han tilted his head at you, questioningly. Were you this noticeable with your crush on previous men?

He let go of your arm. Then you did something that shocked him.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek which made his eyes widen. “See ya!” You waved over to Kuai Liang. “By Kuai!”

Kuai Liang waved back at you and watched you leave. When you were gone, he smirked over to Bi-Han.

Bi-Han noticed his facial expression and shook his head. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it though.”

Over the span of a couple of weeks, you and Bi-Han had grown closer. So close to the point he didn’t mind your longing stares or even you hugging him, and he did not let anyone hug him.

You were an excellent fighter. Bi-Han saw that and furthermore, respected you.

The two of you continued to up the stakes with every fight but it was this time that Bi-Han was unsure.

“We’re not doing this, (Y/N).”

You rolled your eyes at the Grandmasters overdramatize vision. “Come on.” You threw him the sword and he caught it. “First one to make the other one bleed, wins.”

Bi-Han watched as you held onto your sword. “This is not a good idea.”

“Aw. Worried you’ll be bleeding? I’ll go easy.”

“It is not me that is worried. I have never seen you train with a weapon, much less a sword.”

“You would be correct!” You confirmed. “I haven’t! But it’s good to practice now isn’t it? And I know you’ve been wanting to do this. Stab the only girl that annoys you. I get it! Come on! It will be fun!”

Something about what you said made his heart twitch. You weren’t annoying to him. At least not anymore and he didn’t want to hurt you. He had never wanted to hurt you at all.

You being hurt, especially by the hands of him didn’t sit right with him. “(Y/N)…”

You ignored him and started counting. “Three, two, one, go!”

Bi-Han ducked when you swung your sword at him. He sighed. There was no turning back now.

He jumped back when you swung again. To the left and to the right. He then crouched down to sweep your feet. Making you fall.

You groan at the impact. He shook his head at you. “You’re not fighting. You’re just swinging the sword.” He told you.

You got up quickly. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“No. It is not. See. This is why-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence. You began to swing your sword again and he ducked.

You went to jab at his arm but he used his sword to block it and threw you away from him.

You spun around and took a jab at him gain but he blocked it with the sword once more. The two of you stood in that position. “You’re not even trying!” You tell him. “Don’t be a loser.”

He rolled his eyes at you. He kicked you in the stomach. Then took a jab at you.

This jab though actually got you.

You weren’t blocking and his sword stuck in your right arm. His eyes widened and he quickly pulled it out and threw it to the ground.

You started to fall on your knees but he caught you. “You won.” You said through out the pain.

Bi-Han ripped off a piece of his shirt before then tying it to your arm. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

You’ve never seen Bi-Han so worried before but you could understand why. It was a minor wound. You would be fine.

The two of you were inside, where he resided at. He was constantly hovering over you. Making sure you were alright.

Just to get some peace of mind, you decided to take a shower.

His head was spinning. Bi-Han couldn’t understand it. How he was actually worried for you. That the feeling on his chest made his blood pressure go up. He couldn’t explain what he was actually feeling.

All he knew was that he felt guilt. And that did not happen so frequently.

He was the Grandmaster of his clan. How could he feel guilt for something so simple yet so important to him?

As he was consumed by his own thoughts, he heard the shower go off. Then he heard footsteps that came from the entrance to his room so he looked up.

When he did, he saw you. In nothing but a towel. You clutched the towel close to your body and he noticed that water dripped from your head and down to your legs.

You washed all the makeup that was on your face which made you look vulnerable. But Bi-Han thought you were beautiful.

That’s when it clicked for him. He almost sighed out in reality. Just wondering how the hell did he fall for you, Liu Kang’s champion. How he fell for you, the girl who didn’t take anything serious in her life while he took everything serious.

How did this happen?

“You got a shirt I can borrow?”

Bi-Han was surprised you didn’t notice his staring. He was making it pretty obvious that he was checking you out and in a manner that he didn’t care to be found out in.

He grabbed a shirt from his dresser and handed it to you. You took it, waving finger guns at him before walking out of the room.

Bi-Han could not understand how he fell in love with you of all people.

He shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. “Liu Kang is going to be mad about the wound.”

“Since when did you care about what he thought?” You called out from the bathroom.

“I don’t…I’m just saying. You’re impulsive.”

You scoffed, coming back in the room with only the shirt he gave you and your underwear on. “And you’re not? You’re not exactly a world class thinker, frosty.”

Bi-Han rolled his eyes at the nickname. He stood up from the bed to take step towards you. “Better than you. I told you it was dangerous.”

“We fight in Mortal Kombat tournaments to Lee the realms at balance. Anything is dangerous.” You said.

“It’s one thing to do something dangerous because you’re supposed to. It’s another when you intentionally be reckless.”

At that comment, you couldn’t understand why Bi-Han was acting like this. He was the last person to worry about safety. “Are you okay? What’s going on with you? You’ve never cared this much about anything so minor before.”

Bi-Han sighed. He rested his hand on his forehead. He did not look at you. “Do not make me say it.”

It took you a minute to understand the situation. It was at that moment you smiled. You let out a gasp and pointed to him. “Oh my god! You have a crush on me?” You then straightened yourself out, boosting your ego. “I mean, I knew you would.”

Bi-Han could not take any more of your talking. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you towards him before kissing you.

Never would he think he’d feel this way about you.

[seaslugfanclub]

Disneys Sleepiest Soldier

————————————————————————

The video essay on (Y/N)s phone becomes increasingly blurry as they take a slow bite of their sandwich, trying to keep their eyes open.

Holy shit, they were exhausted.

(Y/N) sat hunched over the break room table, their eyes feeling like lead sinkers and feet pulsing from walking miles around the park. (Y/N) had arrived to their shift already tired, construction work had been done throughout the evening below (Y/N)s apartment—so they didn’t get a lick of sleep the previous night.

And after being in the sun all day, up and walking around tending to both guest and entertainment, they felt like they were going to pass out.

Pausing the video essay, (Y/N) checked the time on their phone, their soul clenching when they saw that they had 5 hours remaining to their shift.

Finishing off their sandwich, they looked at the time again to see they had 20 more minutes left to their lunch break,

“I’ll just take a micro nap, 10 minutes tops…..no one will notice…” (Y/N) reasoned, setting a timer on their phone and resting their head in their arms, almost instantly falling asleep.

————————————————————————

Even though he technically didn’t have to eat or drink, Hades couldn’t resist having a secret martini around this time of day. He had all the ingredients prepped in his room; gin, glass, live worm, all he needed now were the olives that were kept in the employee break room fridge.

Appearing from a cloud of smoke right in front of the refrigerator, the Lord of the Dead retrieved the olives, about to vanish to his room when he noticed a slumped over form in the corner of his eye.

“Well, what do we have here?” Hades mused as he walked over to his favorite park attendant, who was passed out on the break room table.

He loomed above them for a few minutes just appreciating their sleeping form when he noticed how dark the rings under (Y/N)s eyes were, they also looked paler than he remembered.

Now (Y/N) could look like anything and Hades would still find them attractive (the old pervert) but even he hated to admit how corpse like they looked.

“Geez kid….they don’t make things easy for you do they? Poor schmuck.”

Sighing in resignation, Hades swished the olives in his had away with a wisp of smoke, pocketed (Y/N)s phone, and proceeded to lift their limp body into his arms, carrying them bridal style. Once he knew (Y/N) hadn’t waken up from being jostled, he teleporting out of the break room and into the Villains common area.

Being so used to living around dead people, the feeling of warm, living flesh against his cold body was a change that Hades didn’t know was so welcomed until now. It almost hurt to part from (Y/N) as he layed them down onto the sofa in the middle of the room. Hades stared at them for a moment longer, before turning around to leave the room. He needed a stronger drink…

————————————————————————

“Cripes—Silver!? Did you nab my blunderbuss again— oh..”

Hook trotted into the common area, hoping to find and berate Silver for his missing pistol, before cutting himself off when he spotted (Y/N)s sleeping form splayed out on the sofa.

It seems that their exhaustion overpowered Hooks shouting, (Y/N) not even stirring.

Hook slowly approached the couch, looking over His park attendants form with silent wonder. He had never seen (Y/N) asleep before, they were always up and running around the park, confident and energetic. Hook marveled in this rare vulnerability, (Y/N)s sleeping form reminded him of the old renaissance paintings he had plundered with his crew years ago. (Y/N)s face was absent of all emotion, their hair splayed around them—

Wait a minute….

Hook was brought out of his reverie when he noticed how awkward (Y/N)s head was resting against the arm of the sofa. How could his dear attendant sleep without proper pillow!?

“My poor poppet… I’ll set you straight right.”

Hook sped out of the lounge, only to return minutes later with a pillow from his own quarters. He didn’t mind the strange looks from the other villains who were stalking the halls, his only goal was to get back to the common area.

Making sure not to scrape (Y/N) with his hook, the old captain gently lifted (Y/N)s head to place his pillow underneath their neck.

Taking a step back he admired his work, (Y/N) looking much more comfortable lying against his down feathered pillow.

“Sleep well my dear~” he whispered has he stalked out of the room.

————————————————————————

Hans clenched and unclenched his fists, not liking the way his palms felt— being so unused to not wearing his gloves. He rarely takes them off, and of course the only time he does so he misplaced them. He tried to ask around to see if anyone had found his pair of cotton gloves, but like every other time in his life, Hans was ignored.

His last hope in his search was the lounge, praying to Mickey-fucking-Mouse that they had somehow made their way there.

Completely focused on finding his gloves, Hans entered the common area and immediately began rummaging around. He didn’t care if his trousers got dusty or his hair fussed up, he couldn’t bear the feeling of his hands making direct contact with everything.

“Kom igen… var är de?”

Hans’s frustration was finally overwhelming him, about to give up when he noticed a flash of white from underneath the couch.

“Aha! Oh, finally!!”

Hans kneeled to reach under the couch, finally grabbing his beloved gloves and wasted no time in slipping them back on his hands. Relief washing over him, Hans went to stand back up— only to be face to face with (Y/N)’s

He flinched back, stumbling to his feet. In his mad search for his gloves, he had completely overlooked the sleeping (Y/N).

He titled his head, confused on why 1: (Y/N) is passed out on the villains sofa when they’re in the middle of a shift, and 2: why their head is resting on a satin down pillow that probably costs more than their rent.

Hans was brought out of his thoughts when a noticed a shiver ran up (Y/N)s back, the park attendant squirming.

Huh, he never noticed how chilly the lounge was, probably because he was used to the cold, even the central AC being nothing but white noise to him. Looking at (Y/N) again, he felt a strange squirming in his stomach…

….eh, it’s probably pity.

Tugging on his gloves, he walked over to the common areas closet, where they kept all the cleaning supplies, lightbulbs, untouched board games, and blankets. Groping around until he found something that met his standards, Hans pulled out a knit throw blanket and walked back to the couch.

With a flick of his wrists, the blanket unfurled and fell onto (Y/N)s body, (Y/N) unconsciously burrowing their face into the knit wool. Hans was strangely reminded of the bakers in his castles kitchens, blanketing the tops pies with dough.

Shrugging off the memories, he gave (Y/N) a fleeting look before exiting the lounge, his fists clenching and unclenching.

————————————————————————

The overhead LED lights stung in Frollos eyes, making him wince and rub the bridge of his nose. He used to think Paris as a filthy city, but now what he wouldn’t give to be back in the 15th century.

Trudging down the hall, a pit of anxiety welled in the bottom of his chest, dreading having to go back out in the park and having to… eugh, interact with others.

His procession stopped as he passed the doorway of the common area, turning his head towards the sofa. Checking to make so no one else was near, Frollo approached the couch to look over (Y/N).

If it was anyone else, Frollo would’ve sneered and berated the person for their sloth. Such waste of time and insult to God.

And yet…

It was a rarity to see the park attendant so still, their resting body allowing Frollo to notice details he never saw before; The stray beauty mark on their cheek, a specific strand of hair the coiled around their face, cuts and scrapes that littered their hands…

Frollo huffed, allowing (Y/N) to continue their sleep, about to exit the room when he stopped.

Their (Y/N) laid, their form vulnerable and unprotected, resting amongst those with wicked tendencies. It would go against his “beliefs” to allow evil to take advantage of those unaware.

Reaching into his robe, he pulled out his personal Rosary, the old wooden beads clicking as they hind from his fingers. Delicately, Frollo hung his rosary from the edge of the couch, the cross resting right above (Y/N).

“Procul recedant somnia, Et noctium phantasmata; Hostemque nostrum comprime, Ne polluantur corpora.” Frollo muttered a prayer, signing the cross over (Y/N)s body.

Having so other excuse to stay, Frollo stalked out of the lounge

“dors bien et fais de beaux rêves..”

————————————————————————

Facilier was….well— he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

(Y/N) sprawled out on the couch, head resting on a pillow that looked like it belonged in Big Daddy La Bouff’s mansion, worn knit blanket draped over their body, and a dingy rosary hanging above their head.

The shadow man stared down at (Y/N), his shadow trying to reach the couch, only to be shocked backwards. Probably the fault of the rosary.

“Ah forget it old sport— let the kid rest,” Facilier chastised his shadow.

The conman recalled seeing (Y/N) stumbling around the park earlier in the day, nodding off while standing. Poor sap must’ve surrendered to their bodies plea for rest.

Facilier’s been known to indulge in a nap once or twice, especially on the sticky summer days back in Orleans… but from personal experience, he always needed total darkness.

“I’ve got no idea how they can sleep with all this light… let’s do the poor Cher a solid. Shadow, cut the lights.”

With the command of his master, Faciliers shadow creeped towards the window on the neighboring wall, pulling down the blinds as Facilier walked over to the light switch, humming to himself.

“..pale moon's shining on the fields below…. The folks are singing songs, soft and loooowww~”

flicking off the overhead lights, the lounge was plunged in darkness.

“Much better, c’mon old sport—” Facilier beckoned his shadow, who gave (Y/N) a longing glance before return to his master.

“You needn't tell me, ‘cause I know… When it's sleepy time down south~”

————————————————————————

(Y/N) sighed in their sleep, nestling into the blanket and pillow. Although they were still fast asleep, far from waking up— they could feel the peace that washed over them. Something only achieved when you’ve reach maximum comfort after strenuous activity.

There were moments in their sleep when they were uncomfortable; neck aching, cold, bad dreams, and bright light stinging behind their eyes. But each time they almost roused from sleep, the problem was always solved, sending them deeper and deeper into the REM cycle.

So there (Y/N) rested, swamped in strange warmth and set to not wake for a long while.

————————————————————————

Can you tell that my love language is acts of service?

I just wanted to write something fluffy, (also I kinda want to write more Hans stuff, an obsession is growing…)

Anyway, enjoy!

[daenysx]

hi angel! what about reader is best friends with aegon and she likes him but modern! aemond likes her. aemond always comforts her when aegon chooses to blow off their hangouts and then she slowly falls for aemond 😇

hi lovely, thank you for requesting! i liked this so much, i hope you enjoy too. requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, hurt/comfort ♡

aemond can't stand the wrinkle forming between your eyebrows whenever aegon disappoints you.

"sorry, aemond." you say, blushing hard on your cheeks. "i thought he'd be home, he didn't answer my texts."

his hands shake, he curls his fingers to relieve a bit of tension. "it's okay." he manages to say. "but i don't know where he is."

you look at your hands, biting your bottom lip like you do every time you are upset. aemond hates how he's unable to comfort you, how useless. you try to smile after a second, looking at him with big eyes as if you're trying to stop yourself from crying.

there's always a distance between you and aemond. "sorry for bothering you again." you say, giving him one of your easy smiles. "i'll just leave."

you take a step back. aemond would be damned if he let you go. "wait." he calls. "do you wanna come in?"

you look unsure. you probably think aemond only plays nice with you just because he feels guilty for his brother. the truth is far from it. aemond once saw you cry because of aegon, how your shoulders were shaking and your lips bitten raw. the image of your sad face haunts him, knowing how he'll never be the one you care about makes him wanna beat aegon. how dare he? who does he think he is? how can he have you as his best friend and not even bother to answer your texts when aemond is desperate for one smile from your lips?

"i took enough of your time." you say.

"no, i-" and now he can't even form a proper sentence. "please."

your eyes find his face. "you don't have to do it, aemond."

he doesn't know what you're talking about. "what?"

"you don't have to try to fix his mistakes." you say, somehow you look bolder and more upset, it shatters his heart.

"i'm not- i-"

"i appreciate the effort, i really do." you say. "you probably think how much of a fool i'm being by waiting for his text when he's out there hanging out with people i don't even know."

you stop, take a deep breath. that's when a teardrop rolls on your cheek. "i know it's stupid." you say. "i know he'll never look at me the way i look at him but i can't control how i feel. i- i just-"

your entire body is shaking as you start crying loudly. fuck. aemond's never been good with crying people but he'd burn down the entire world if he could stop your tears. he feels a protective wave in his chest, it's urging him to take the step to get you. you try to dry your tears, totally unable to calm down. you can't even look at aemond, how pathetic are you being right now? crying in front of your so-called best friend's baby brother. aemond should have better things to do other than listening to a girl cry over aegon.

"i'm so sorry." you say when you can finally breathe. "i'm not being fair to you. i'll just leave, you can-"

aemond snaps out of the trance. he rushes to you, his long arms are wrapped around your shoulders easily. you melt, starved for a comforting touch. he holds the back of your neck, fingers lightly wandering in your hair as he puts your head on his shoulder. you bury your face to his neck, wrap your arms around his waist. he smells nice. so nice like the rain or soft morning breeze.

aemond doesn't know how he'd wait so long to hug you. he closes his eye to the smell of your shampoo. his mind is clear like it never has been before. is this what holding you feels like? his skin is desperate for any contact, he's been starved for so long. he can get addicted to holding you easily, the possibility of never doing it again terrifies him. he loses his voice, he loses his patience.

you cry on his shoulder. he rubs a slow hand on your back, his lips tight on your head. he can feel the wetness of your tears on his skin, his fingers itch to dry them up.

you pull back, mortified. you look like you're gonna say sorry again but he can't have that. not again. you're not the person who should say sorry for having feelings or being brave enough to accept them.

"you're not being fair to me." he says. "you don't even know what you do to me."

he begs himself to shut up. he'll lose you. he'll lose the smallest contact with you if he keeps talking.

"i-" you start, still in his arms.

"no." he cuts your words. "it's not fair at all."

maybe people are right about the targaryen madness. nothing he does right now makes sense to him but he can't help himself. he just can't go on like this, not anymore. not when he got you in his arms.

"he- he doesn't deserve you." aemond says with a low voice. "but you know that, don't you? you've always been too clever for your own good."

"what can i do about that, aemond?" you whisper. "i'm trying to get over it. he's my best friend, do you see how fucked up this is?"

aemond shakes his head, his hand on your waist tightens. "trust me, i know about fucked up feelings. i know- i can understand how terrible you feel."

"and i didn't mean to be unfair to you." you continue. your tears dry on your cheeks. "i know you don't have to deal with this but you're nice enough to care about me. i won't disturb you again, i promise."

he takes a deep breath to stop himself from screaming. you're killing him. you don't even know.

"do you think the goodness in my heart is the reason for caring about you?" he asks, can't help gritting his teeth.

you look confused. he wants to kiss you so bad.

"you know what?" he backs off. "let's stop this- just forget i said anything."

he stops holding you, angry at himself for being a coward. he can feel the pins and needles on his hands, his shoulders are tense again.

"are you kidding me?" you ask, your voice is sad all over again. "why- why are you trying to mess with me? have i been that much of a bother to you?"

"stop!" he says loudly. you don't flinch, just stay on your spot with fresh tears on your eyes. aemond will not be the reason of your tears.

"stop saying that you're bothering me." he begs. "stop it- i can't take it anymore."

"then why?"

"because i'm in love with you." he says finally. "i've been in love with you for so long but you're not even aware of my existence when you're not asking for aegon! you think you're the only one with fucked up feelings?"

he kept everything to himself for so long, now that he starts he can't stop.

"you don't know what it's like to see you crying because of that prick. you don't know how i wished that it could be me- just for once let it be me who you care about. you don't know-"

he gets on his knees at the door to his apartment. his face pressed against his palms, staying vulnerable in front of you. he is so fucked. he half expects you to run away.

you are frozen on your feet. you always thought aemond was just being nice to you, all those times he offered you a cup of coffee and listened to you ramble about things. all the smiles he gave you, you were thinking he thought you are pathetic. you don't know what to think now.

it's like you're being controlled by someone else when you kneel beside him. your gentle hands pull his face to your shoulder just like he did minutes ago. you stroke his hair, nails scratching on his neck to give him a little peace. he holds onto you. you hold him back.

"i'm sorry." you say. "i'm so sorry, aemond."

"stop it." he says, finding his voice. "you are not guilty of my feelings."

"i wish i'd known before." you whisper. "i never meant to hurt you."

"don't- please don't run away from me." he pleads. "you don't have to see my face ever again but- i can't lose you."

you kiss his hairline just because it feels right. he feels right at that moment, your legs are numb on his doorstep and your fingers are quick to ease his worries.

"you're not losing me." you say. "i promise i won't leave."

aemond has never begged for anything in his life. wishing is different but begging would make him feel like a desperate man. he's too proud for it. he loses all his pride at your feet.

you cup his cheeks, looking at him through wet lashes. "it's not okay." you say. "it's not."

"i know you'll never feel the same for me." he says, words feel like poison on his lips. "and it's okay."

"there's nothing we can do." he replies. "you can't force yourself to love someone else."

you give him a broken smile. your finger draws a star on his cheek. "can we get inside?" you ask. "i think we need to talk about it properly and- we both need time."

"i don't want you to pity me." aemond says. "you don't have to do this."

"this is not pitying." you say. "i was going to the wrong direction before but- if you give me some time i can find my way."

even the hope of it makes him lightheaded. you are willing to talk about everything honestly with him, trying to give both of you a chance to be happy. you don't want to lose him, not when he feels so right in your arms. not when he holds you like he's protecting you from everything.

when you stand up to walk into the apartment, aemond holds your hand. you squeeze his fingers.

[pearl-blue-musings]

how did I fall in love with you

Pairing: Alhaitham x reader x Kaveh

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, argument, short, quick and dirty, probably terrible

Word count: ~500

Kaveh hadn’t mean to fall for you. It was completely by accident. It’s not his fault that you were always visiting his roommate almost everyday with that endearing beautiful smile and even more beautiful soul. How was he supposed to keep himself in check when you helped him with his projects, made his coffee the way he likes, and made his favorite dish without prompting? How could he not fall in love with you when you would cry on his shoulder over something Alhaitham did indirectly.

How could he not fall in love with you after realizing you love him too?

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You and Alhaitham had taken the next steps in your relationship, hence your presence in their abode. Of course you had met Kaveh before, but learned more about him the more you spent time with your boyfriend. He had a keen eye for art and beauty, something you greatly appreciated. It was easy to talk with him, something that irked Alhaitham and had been the cause of one of your worst arguments. Kaveh was your shoulder to cry on when this happened, his soothing words providing comfort in ways you never imagined.

When Alhaitham came home after that disagreement, he found you and Kaveh snuggled up on his couch.

It wasn’t like he was blind, he knew sooner or later you would leave him for someone more affectionate, more emotionally mature and at adept at these types of relationships. He just didn’t think it would be Kaveh. His insecurities flare up as he sees traces of your tears along your cheeks. He gently takes a finger to wipe away anything left and stirs you awake.

Your eyes slowly flutter open and you gasp at seeing faltering eyes above you. Arms that are wrapped around your waist are not your boyfriends and yet you make no move to get up. Alhaitham studies you carefully as you feel a new batch of fresh tears come to the corners of your eyes. Warm hands gently cup your face as he presses his forehead against yours. All that’s exchanged between the two of you is a soft conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Alhaitham whispers, his breath fans against your lips. His touch is so careful and calming, you can’t help but smile softly as you peck his nose.

“I know.”

Kaveh wasn’t sure how long he could pretend to be asleep, but he could do it for a few more minutes. The fact that he’s buried in your lap makes it easier to hide the tears and his trembling lip from the two of you. Your affirmations of love for each other do nothing to dull the ache in his heart. The architect is also tuned into the small box poking out of his roommates pocket that will full well get lost eventually. You two are deeply in love, and there’s nothing he can say or do to change that. He knows tonight when he falls asleep, knowing full well the two of you will be wrapped in each others arms and never letting go, he’ll ask himself the same question he’s been asking himself for almost a year…

How did I fall in love with you?

[tapwater118]

Has anyone ever heard of “Battle for Dream Island” (1990) before? Really obscure NES game, doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page (or hell, even a mention in one).

From what little I can find about it on the internet, Battle for Dream Island was an NES game released on January 1st, 1990, apparently made entirely by a pair of independent American developers. Never made all that many sales, but eventually it garnered a rather niche following on an obscure gaming forum, though it had long since dissipated. Unfortunately, seemingly nothing from the forum threads was archived, so all I have to go on are a few vague threads titles from a navigation page.

I, rather cliched like, bought this BfDI cartridge from a sleazy old guy at a flea market (along with Puzznic and Wario’s Woods for a bargain deal). I dumped the ROM and booted it up on an emulator to take some screencaps.

Upon pressing start, you are prompted to “Choose Contestant,” and have a choice between any of 20 playable characters (who are all everyday objects, for some reason). Each contestant has their own stats, and while you can feel the difference while playing, the overall impact of character choice is pretty negligible. (Also some of these guys don’t even have arms?? Weird design choice but okay.)

Two screencaps of the character select screen. I went with Pin for my first playthrough cause idk she seemed kinda cute. I’m almost sure the stats are “Strength,” “Speed,” “Jump,” and “Skill.”

(Continued under cut)

While touting itself as a game show, BfDI is essentially a glorified minigame collection. The gameplay loop is as follows: You and the 19 other contestants play a minigame (referred to as “challenges”) to earn points based on how well you do (though I’m fairly certain the computer contestants just get a random amount of points for each challenge). Most of the challenges are various platforming segments, though some others fall more into puzzle game territory.

Two of the challenges. The green “Win Tokens” can be collected for bonus points. LEFT: A horizontal platformer level. The grey wall in the middle of the screencap moves up and down. RIGHT: A challenge about climbing ladders while avoiding “acid spitballs.” The game pauses to scroll vertically a la Super Mario Bros. 2.

After each challenge, this speaker thing shows up (pretty sure he’s supposed to be like a game show host?) and tallies up everyone’s score. The contestant with the least score gets “eliminated” and removed from the game.

The results screen. Leafy did rather poor on the last challenge, so she’s out of the game.

The game continues like this until you lose (have the least amount of points) and get booted to the game over screen, or until you are the last one left, in which case you win Dream Island! (Though of course in reality you just get booted back to the title screen. No Dream Island for you.)

The victory screen, with the gates to Dream Island in sight. Feels more like the gates to hell given how Pin’s staring at me.

It’s a fairly easy game for NES standards (I won on my first try). Took me about 80 minutes on my first playthrough, though subsequent ones could take less than an hour as I knew what I was doing. The brevity and the fact it saves your high score gives BfDI a nice sense of replayability (though this is probably best done sporadically, as the challenges tend to get a bit samey after a couple of back-to-back playthroughs).

So yeah, just wanted to share this in case anybody else has heard of it. I’ll probably rip the sprites and upload them sometime later cause it doesn’t look like anybody’s done that yet.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Virtuous Person (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Things have been nuts, but I finally have some time and pulled this out of my drafts. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You have been seeing Matt for about three months now, and you are so happy that he is in your life. Conversation is easy, you're relaxed with him, and you feel yourself. But when some kissing turns into something spicier, you confess something to Matt.

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, kissing, allusions to sex (Matt does a sexy hip roll during a takeout session), reader is a virgin

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 929

You hum in delight as you slurp up your last noodle. “Ordering in was definitely the right move for tonight,” you say as you wipe your mouth. 

“I couldn’t agree with you more, angel,” Matt says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Are you finished?”

“Mm,” you hum as you get up. “But you’re not. Finish eating. I’ll take care of the trash.”

Matt gently protests, but you run your fingers through his hair, effectively using it as an off switch so he will do as you instruct. It works for a short while, allowing you to clean up the mess from dinner and allowing Matt to take a moment for himself, however brief, before he gets up to dispose of his trash and wrap his arms around you.

“I can take care of all of this later,” he murmurs into your neck. “Come and sit with me. I missed you all day.”

“Oh, you have?” you goad as you walk in step with one another back to his couch.

“Mmhm. I missed your voice, how soft your hair is—.” Matt plops the two of you down on the couch, the leather squeaking as it takes the brunt of both of your combined body weights as you sit atop of your boyfriend. “—your touch.”

You nuzzle into him, lightly pressing your lips against his cheek. “My touch like my hands and skin, or like my kisses?”

“All of the above.”

“Well, if it’s all of the above . . .” You rest one hand on the side of his face, leaning in to kiss him. The scruff of his five o’clock shadow tickles, making the embrace all the more enjoyable as he gets more and more into it. We both carefully reposition on the couch so you are off of his lap and on your own cushion, giving you better leverage for your kisses. The embraces are sweet and bubbly, absolutely blissful as you start—filled with the kind of giddy, lighthearted joy that teenagers feel when they have their first love and their first kiss. The eager excitement builds as the kisses go on, moving from more innocent embraces to exchanges filled with passion, a desire that begs to be fulfilled. Matt takes the lead, one hand cradling your face while the other rests on your waist, carefully guiding you to lean back on the sofa.

You smile as you embrace, Matt caging you in as we chase kiss after kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss, causing you to moan in delight. As your heart races and your fingers rake through his hair, the kisses grow more intense, and you feel Matt grind against your hips. You hum in surprise, breaking the make out session as you pull back to look at him.

“Are you okay?” Matt pants softly, his blind eyes desperately trying to scan your face and pinpoint what’s wrong.

“I-I’m fine,” you swallow, your brows pulling together. “I-I just wasn’t expecting—I mean, what you did with your hips felt nice—like, really nice, but I, um . . . I, well, I haven’t really . . . I . . .”

Matt’s mouth gently falls open while his eyebrows rise in perfect arches. “Oh,” he breathes. “You’re a v . . .” He looks like he regrets the consonant sound as soon as it escapes his lips. “. . . virtuous person.”

You feel your cheeks flush as you close your eyes in embarrassment. “No, hey, listen!” he tries to correct.

“Can we just forget I ever mentioned it? We can just go back to kissing like it never happened, and I can die of embarrassment later tonight when I get back to my apartment.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Please?” You hate how that one little work makes your voice crack, giving away your emotions and insecurities so easily.

“Hey,” Matt whispers tenderly, wiping away a tear that slipped out of the corner of your eye. “It’s okay.”

“Ugh!” you grumble. “It’s just so embarrassing! And it’s even more embarrassing when I have someone I love here with me who . . .” He looks at you like a sweet puppy, begging you to finish your sentence. “. . . who is the most wonderful, loving, magnetic person that I know. Who deserves, well, everything. And I can’t give him that.”

Matt dips his head, kissing you long and slow.

“You,” he whispers, softly and tenderly, packing an incredible amount of love in that single word, “are the most amazing, warm, caring person I know. I love you, too. And I never want to make the person I love feel uncomfortable in any way.”

“It’s just a really big thing for me. I don’t know why, but . . .” You shrug, feeling heat burn all over your skin. “I was going to wait.”

“Okay,” he nods, his sightless hazel eyes sparkling as he sits us up on the couch, pulling you up with him. “We’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.”

“Matt, listen, I’ll get it if you—.”

“I don’t want you finishing that sentence. I’d never be that shallow.” He tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. “If the woman I love wants to wait, then I will wait with and for her.”

“Matty . . .” you breathe. He just smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you once more before gently brushing away some tears of yours with his thumb.

“I mean it. You’re worth it. I will wait for you.”

You match his sweet smile, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m a very lucky girl.”

“I can guarantee you, angel, if anyone is the lucky one in this relationship, it’s me, because I have you.”

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