#(and he is not afraid to do the right thing)

[sometimesanalice]

Oh I adore getting your reblogs! It's always so fun getting to read someone's thoughts about things! But I'm also so happy that you enjoyed this one!

more for you!

Many thoughts...

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

I can 100% see that-- that man never stood a chance! he likes to play the game, especially when the girl he's interested in is leading the way 🤭

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

Yeah, let's show it off 😌-- he's such a slut (affectionate)! but if you ask him he'd just say he's a feminist and doing it for the female gaze, lmao

 He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

A man on a mission-- my favorite little attention whore

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

Lmao that would be funny though 😅-- maybe next time, lmaooo. but also he knows what he's bringing to the able and backs himself all the way, he's not afraid of a little competition (not that there is any, haha)

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

Oh, we all know 😅-- the cockwalk alone deserved an oscar

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.” “Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?” “Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.” “You mean Bagman?” “Yeah, that sounds right.”

A woman teasing Jake? Bradley is probably thinking about proposing right then and there😅-- the easiest way to win over bradley bradshaw is to dunk on jake at any given opportunity, lol

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.” You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings. 

😌🤭😌🤭-- she's got him soooo wrapped around her finger, and good for her it's what she deserves!

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type. Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Definitely not his fault 🤷🏻‍♀️😅-- he's innocent your honor!

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?” His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it. “I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

His hat has probably been worn by multiple women before 🤭-- that hat has definitely seen some action that's for sure, lmao. and who he is who deny anyone who wants to try it on for size 🤭

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

That's so cute 😍-- he doesn't often get to share this side of things so indepthly with anyone, he's definitely not missing his moment here!

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear. “Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue. He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

There always has to be a first time 😌-- the man likes to live on the edge! the adrenaline rush of it all! plus everyone else is busy, and it is called the ready room after all haha

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.” “Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat. “I’m trying to,” you whine.

Oh I bet he does 🤭🤤-- we all know that man doesn't half ass anything and we thank him for his service!

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

🤭🤭🤭-- she's definitely made a lasting impression on him!

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Ahhhh omg-- i love a good twist!! and this one is one of my favorites!! 🤭🤭🤭

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week. He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating. Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

Love that they both met each other's partners on the same night out 😅-- i ended up writing about the night they met! if you ever want to read it it's called "wildest dreams"! it's another cheeky and fun one, but I loved getting to explore just what happened the night they met!

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you. “It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

Oh he is so in love🥰-- he's so down bad!

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck. “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

^^ the most perfect gif in existence, lmao. they're both go getters ahahahaha

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.” 

Facts 🤷🏻‍♀️-- i wouldn't mind getting a return on my taxes this way, just saying... lol

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

Wear that SPF!!-- my fav hc is that he's always getting sunburnt because he just doesn't have the patience to put it on.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom. 

Ahh I loved all of this so much 🥰-- i'm so happy you liked it!! thank you for reading!!

Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up. 

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme​ asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em!  💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Keep reading

[solxamber]

Valentines day event woowoowoo (dont burn yourself out aye!!)

Idia, romantic, "absolutely smitten" by Dodie (if i got that right-) :]

Hope it could be a fun one ! Stay safe ayeaye

i love the pining potential in the song!!! hope you like my interpretation of it <3

"I'm absolutely smitten" || Idia Shroud

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Absolutely Smitten by Dodie

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 670

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Idia first sees you during orientation. Not in person, of course—there’s no way he’d willingly subject himself to a room full of loud, unpredictable people—but through his tablet, streaming the event from the safety of his dorm.

It’s routine, really, just scoping out who he’ll inevitably be avoiding for the next few years. But then the camera pans across the crowd, and he sees you.

And something unfamiliar stirs in his chest.

It’s a strange, unquantifiable feeling, something too big for him to handle, too much for his ribs to cage in. His fingers tighten around the tablet as he watches you smile at something someone says, and a thought creeps into his brain before he can stop it.

I wish that were me.

It’s over for him. Absolutely, completely, no-respawn doomed.

And when he actually gets to know you? Oh, he’s done for. Every interaction with you is a critical hit to his heart. You are bright where he is shadowed, warm where he is cold, a force of nature where he is content to be static.

And yet, somehow, you seem to like being around him. You talk to him, seek him out, sit with him even when he fumbles through his words and hides behind his hood.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Idia Shroud, the ghost of Ignihyde, the one who would rather face a boss battle on the highest difficulty than make eye contact with another human being, wants nothing more than to be close to you.

He wants to talk to you about everything that makes his mind race at 3 AM, wants to know what makes you tick, wants to kiss you until he forgets what loneliness feels like.

But he can’t. Because you are you, and he is him, and the idea of ruining what he has with you is a fear greater than any horror game could ever conjure.

So he does nothing. He pines. He wonders.

Are you just being nice?

Would you ever see him that way?

Is he even worth your time?

And yet, he doesn’t know that you are just as smitten.

The day you met him is engraved in your brain like a prophecy fulfilled. You think he’s the one. It sounds ridiculous, impossibly romantic, something straight out of a visual novel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you and Idia are meant to be.

And so, one day, when you’re sitting next to him in his room—shoulders almost touching, his leg bouncing like a loading screen buffering at 99%—you slide a little closer.

“Idia.”

He stiffens. “W-what?”

“I like you.” A pause. “I really like you.”

His brain blue-screens.

You barely have time to process his expression—wide golden eyes, parted lips—before he starts tearing up.

“Wait, wait, are you okay?” You panic, reaching for him, but he shakes his head rapidly, hands clutching his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“You—” His voice cracks. “You actually—?”

You nod. “I mean, yeah. Kinda thought it was obvious.”

Obvious? Obvious? He’s been agonizing over this for months, drowning in his feelings, convinced you were nothing more than a dream he was too scared to wake up from. And yet, here you are, looking at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you.

He doesn’t know what to say. But you do.

So you pull him into a hug, letting him bury his face in your shoulder as he trembles. His hands hover before finally clutching the fabric of your shirt, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tightly.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Idia feels whole.

He pulls back slightly, and when he looks at your soft smile, something inside him clicks into place. He’s never letting you go.

And when you look at his teary-eyed grin, you think the same thing.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[heartsriki]

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY ⌇편지

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 2200+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool au!, fluff, misunderstandings, sunshine x grumpy.

synopsis — After seeing your tiny crush nishimura riki sneak something into the confession box you just had to investigate.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys I swear ill make a non highschool au with riki soon... I couldn't help myself.. anyways its FEB!! can't wait to write valentines themed fics!

Finally.

It was your favorite month of the whole year.

You worked as a library assistant at your school—not because you particularly loved the job, but because it was better than joining a club.

Well… that’s what you told people.

In reality, you had a secret gig.

Tucked away in the most secluded part of the library was your confession box—a simple, unassuming container where students could slip in anonymous notes pouring out their feelings.

It started as something just for you. A place to vent when things got overwhelming. But then, he found out.

Jungwon.

You had no choice but to let him in on your little secret, and somehow, he became your best friend. Over time, word spread, and people started using the box themselves. What once held only your thoughts turned into a place where students whispered their love stories into folded pieces of paper.

Only Jungwon knew you were the one behind it.

And now, February had arrived—the holy grail of confessions. Sure, people submitted notes year-round, but around Valentine’s Day? The numbers spiked.

You weren’t going to lie. You loved it. Not just the thrill of reading them (and occasionally sharing the best ones with Jungwon, who never breathed a word), but the idea that you were helping people express what they were too afraid to say out loud.

So here you were, stationed at the front desk, pretending to browse book requests on the computer when a group of girls giggled their way to the back of the library.

Your eyes flickered toward them, amused. Definitely not because you were excited to read their confessions later. Nope. Definitely not.

Then, moments later—he walked in.

Riki.

The second you saw him, your instincts flared up. Suspicious.

Riki never stepped foot in the library. He barely did his assignments, let alone read for fun. So why was he here?

You watched, careful not to make it obvious. He glanced around, acting almost… nervous? And then, without a word, he disappeared into the back.

Seconds later, he reappeared from the other side—hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, walking out as if nothing had happened.

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Did Nishimura Riki just put a confession in your box?

Your hand scrambled for your phone. You had to tell someone.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

And you did think about it.

You and Riki had a… relationship. Not exactly a friendship, but not total strangers either.

You first met in detention.

It was your first time there, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. So, naturally, you turned to the guy next to you—the one with his headphones on, slouched in his seat like he owned the place.

Curious, you tapped his shoulder.

He flinched, looking caught before turning to glare at you. “What?”

You blinked. “How did you sneak those in? Can I listen too?”

Before he could answer, you asked another question. “Wait, also—what are we supposed to do in here?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “What do we do in detention? You sit here. Now be quiet before—”

“Mr. Nishimura, sneaking electronics in again?” The teacher’s voice cut in, hand outstretched.

Riki groaned, slumping back in his seat before begrudgingly handing over his phone and headphones.

When the teacher walked away, he snapped his head back to you, eyes burning with betrayal.

You swore he glared at you for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, you tried to make it up to him—with snacks, lunch, even passing him worksheets to copy. Eventually, after weeks of bugging him, he forgave you.

Kind of.

Even now, he still acted so indifferent.

Whenever you waved at him in the hallway, he looked away. When you invited him to sit with you and your friends, he ignored you. Even when you walked beside him, talking about anything and everything—he barely responded.

At first, you assumed he was just bad with people. But then you saw him with his friends—laughing, joking, talking.

So why was he only like this with you?

Eventually, you gave up.

You distanced yourself, refusing to waste energy on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But then, every now and then, you’d catch him staring—or see him approach you, only to hesitate and walk away.

It was confusing. Frustrating. You told yourself you didn’t care anymore.

Until the school trip.

It had been late at night when you were sent to fetch supplies from the shed—a small, isolated building at the edge of the woods.

You weren’t scared, but walking alone with only a flashlight wasn’t exactly comforting.

By the time you found everything, thunder rumbled outside. Moments later, the skies opened up.

Heavy rain. Lightning. The kind of downpour that turned dirt trails into slippery nightmares.

Running back wasn’t an option.

So, hugging your knees to your chest, you sat in the shed—silent, alone, trying not to cry.

Minutes passed. Then—

The door burst open.

You jumped, heart nearly stopping—until your eyes locked with his.

Riki.

He stood there, soaked from head to toe, breathless, his curls sticking to his forehead.

Did he… run here?

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a moment, like he was checking if you were okay, before stepping inside and sitting next to you.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

You blinked, then let out a soft, teary laugh. He was trying to act tough. But he was clearly worried.

Neither of you spoke after that. You just sat there, listening to the storm. Well, you spoke—rambling like you used to, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time the rain cleared, something between you had shifted.

And now, months later, here you were—staring at an empty confession box, knowing Riki put something inside, yet not finding his name anywhere.

Jungwon’s voice pulled you back.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smirked. “Anything good?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your disappointment. “Yeah, some interesting ones. Oh—Minji completely dropped her last crush and moved on to a new one. Isn’t that crazy?”

Jungwon squinted at you. “You’re looking for Riki’s, aren’t you?”

You groaned, immediately dropping your head onto the table. “I’m pitiful. Don’t look at me.”

Jungwon laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting across from you. “You’re not pitiful. Just mildly down bad.”

You groaned, keeping your forehead against the table. “But I know he put something in there. I saw him! I was so ready to read it, but it’s like—poof!—nothing!”

Jungwon tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You sure he actually put something in the box?”

You lifted your head slightly. “Of course, I literally watched him sneak in.”

“Then…” Jungwon grinned knowingly. “What if he took something out?”

That made you pause. You sat up straight, eyes wide. “Wait… What?”

“Think about it,” Jungwon continued. “If he put in a confession and realized he wasn’t ready, maybe he took it back.”

Your mind raced. That… actually made sense. But why would Riki take it back? And more importantly—who was he confessing to?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you weren’t sure why.

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling. “You could just ask him, you know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hey, Riki! Weird question, but did you happen to steal a confession from my box?’”

“Why not?” Jungwon shrugged. “Or are you scared of the answer?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words never came. Were you scared? The idea of Riki confessing to someone else made your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Before you could respond, the student council room door creaked open again.

And there he was.

Riki stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair a little bit above his eyes which flickered between you and Jungwon before settling on you.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He patted your shoulder before slipping past Riki, whispering a quick, “Good luck,” on his way out.

The door clicked shut. Silence.

You swallowed. “Um… Did you need a book or—”

“I didn’t take it back.”

Your breath hitched.

Riki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The letter. I didn’t take it back.”

Your heart was pounding now. You tried to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I put it in there without a doubt, I think… someone else removed it. Maybe it was a sign not to confess to you.”

You.

Your throat went dry. “It was… for me?”

Riki let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Obviously.”

You blinked. “Obviously? What do you mean obviously? You ignore me ninety percent of the time!”

He huffed, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t ignore you.”

“You literally pretend not to hear me half the time!”

“Because I don’t know what to say!” Riki finally looked at you, frustration and something else—something softer—lingering in his expression. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You talk too much, you’re way too nosy, and you never leave things alone. And somehow, I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I like you, okay?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Riki rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. “This is embarrassing.”

You snapped out of your trance. “Wait, wait. Back up. You like me?”

He groaned, turning toward the door. “Forget I said anything—”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.

He froze.

Slowly, you grinned. “You like me.”

Riki’s ears were turning red. “Shut up.”

You laughed, warmth bubbling in your chest. You never thought you’d get anywhere with him, and yet—here he was, out of breath looking at you so fondly, confessing in the most Riki-like way possible.

February was definitely your favorite month of them all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment Riki stepped into the library, he knew he was making a mistake.

This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t do books, didn’t do anything that required more effort than necessary. But here he was, standing in the one place he actively avoided, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as his eyes flickered toward the back.

He could feel your gaze on him.

You were always watching him.

Not in a weird way—more like you were constantly trying to figure him out. Always with that curious glint in your eyes, like he was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He hated it.

No, that wasn’t true. He hated that he liked it.

And now, as he made his way toward the confession box—the stupidest thing he’d ever been a part of—he was hoping you weren’t paying too much attention.

With one last glance around, he slipped to the back, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and dropped it inside.

Then, without missing a beat, he walked out through the other side, playing it cool.

It took everything in him not to look back.

He could already picture the way your brain was short-circuiting, the way you were probably grabbing your phone to text Jungwon. You always told him everything, after all.

Riki swore under his breath as he left the library.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Well.

That was a lie.

He knew why.

It was because of you.

Because you confused the hell out of him.

You were supposed to be annoying—loud, persistent, way too nosy for your own good. You were supposed to be someone he could easily brush off, like he did with everyone else.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many times he ignored your waves in the hallway, you still smiled at him. No matter how often he shut you out, you never stopped trying.

And then you stopped.

You finally gave up on him.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel too tight.

Ever since that night on the school trip, when he found you curled up alone in the shed, it had been harder and harder to act like he didn’t care.

That night, when he heard you were missing—it was like he could imagine you with red eyed, shoulders shaking—he couldn’t stop himself.

Didn’t even think.

He just ran.

Ran straight into the storm, through the rain, barely able to see a damn thing—but knowing exactly where he was going.

When he finally got there, when he saw you small and fragile under the dim light, something in him cracked.

He never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn’t know how to tell you that.

He wasn’t good with words. He wasn’t good with feelings.

So he wrote it down instead.

It wasn’t a confession, not in the way you expected.

But it was something.

Something for your eyes only.

Something he thought you would have found by now.

So when he walked passed the student council room later that evening, seeing you and Jungwon hunched over the pile of notes, he knew immediately.

You hadn’t seen it.

Because if you had, you wouldn’t be looking for his name like he overheard.

And now, as both your heads snapped toward him, your eyes wide and startled—

Riki sighed, stepping forward.

…You took it, didn’t you? He thought looking straight at Jungwon.

Because if you didn’t find his letter in the box…

Then someone must have.

What was Jungwon playing at?

What happens next? Click

[revelboo]

I know its not ENTIRELY the case but I love how Waspinator's like "Dating? Got it. I can do dating. Im gonna be the BEST at dating. And then, i will have unrestricted access to Nap Lap, the most coveted place."

He’s trying his hardest

Worker Bee Pt 17

Waspinator x Reader

• Sprawled face down on your bed, you’re immediately awake when you hear and feel the bed shifting and creaking. He’d stayed in the living room watching cartoons with the rapt focus of a toddler for the bright colors and let you sneak off to bed alone last night. Apparently, he’d finally noticed you’d abandoned him. And you groan when his heavy weight comes down partially on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs. “You’re too heavy,” you groan, squirming to wiggle out from under him and he settles for just his head and an arm against your back. And a leg kicked out across yours. Sighing and resisting the urge to grab a pillow to beat him with, your nose wrinkles. Why does he smell like freshly turned soil? Has he been digging in your yard? He’s behaving at least and you’re too sleepy to care about holes in your yard.

• Venting against you, he’s alert until your breathing evens out and only then does he allow himself to recharge. Had checked the perimeter of his hive after returning to make sure all was well. Hadn’t been able to find any pretty flowers with the snow, but he’s pleased with what he had found to offer you. Sure that you’ll be impressed with him and accept his courting gift. And food? He’s seen you prepare your weird smelling food from the tall, cold box and the small beeping box. Simple enough.

• “Little friend?” What time is it? Ignoring as he croons at you, the mattress shifting when he moves over you. If you ignore him, he might go away and let you sleep. “Little friend.” Feel his mandibles slides through your hair and against the back of your neck to make your skin crawl. And then his wet glossa slides behind your ear and there’s no pretending you’re not awake anymore when you shriek and nearly elbow him in the face. “Awake?”

• “What’s have I said about licking me?” You growl, words becoming a wheeze when he slumps against your warmth to vent against your skin. “Can’t breathe.” Hooking an arm around you, he rolls so you’re sprawled on him, his wings flared out under him. And your eyes narrow when you look around. “There’s mud in my bed,” you say, voice that carefully neutral tone you use right before you get angry with him. And he whines when you sit up on him to stare at the mud smeared on your skin from him. Clawed servos resting on your hips, he’s afraid to move in case you bolt. “Why is there mud everywhere?” Knows how dangerous that calm tone is. That his little friend is about to yell at Waspinator most likely.

• “Waspinator’s little friend very lovely,” he manages and that is the last thing you expect from the big idiot. Startling a snorting laugh out of you, because if he thinks that’s going to get him out of trouble, he’s gravely mistaken. “Little friend’s frame very soft,” he adds and now you are laughing, because he’s so terrible at whatever this is? Painfully awkward flirting? That thought sobers you, because no. There’s no way he’s flirting. “Pretty scent.” Yeah, nope. This is getting uncomfortable now.

• “I smell like dirt right now, but thanks,” you mutter, sliding off of him to make his frame strain and another buzzing whine escapes him. Rolling onto his side to watch you purse your soft lips and examine the room, his antenna go back when you smile. “There’s more dirt, isn’t there?”

• “Prepared food for little friend,” he says, words a bit too quick as he rolls off your bed and follows you down the hall. How is there mud on the ceiling? Squinting back at him, that he’d fixed you food is especially horrifying. Bug breath eats silverware. And he bumps into you when you stop short at the living room. Is that an azalea bush? Roots and all? And what is that stink? “Flowers for little friend. Dating.” What are the symptoms of a stroke, because you can’t breathe right now, staring at the mess. Dating? What does he mean dating? And the fire alarm chooses right then to start screaming.

Previous

[satansagereranch]

Well, I'd love to join the game~!

🌷- To be frank, I just enjoy working with kids in general. So joyful and full of energy. They truly are a treat to work with. So when I got the task of being Satan's caregiver when I found out he regressed, I was eager to do so.

🎹 - I usually describe myself as a caregiver. It feels the most apt and natural one for me to use. That being said, I'm more than fine letting the little one choose whichever term they want to call me.

🫧 - With Satan? My ideal day with him is a nice day at the ranch, working on our emotions and how to express them healthily. I let him get some activity, an he does some mental health exercises with me to help him relax.

🧸- Satan is my regressor! You can see my blog for more details on what he's like.

🌼- I like it when Satan calls me Yogi. That's the nickname he made for me. I find it so endearing~!

🧃- Chamomile Tea without a doubt! I always keep packets with me everywhere so I have a readily brew-able cup ready~!

🎨- It's hard to pick between a tea party and reading books for me, to be honest. Both are really good activities. I suppose it depends on what my little one wants.

🍼 - No, I don't regress.

❤️‍🩹- I have a little plush of Belphegor I got for myself when I graduate medical school. Her luxuriously soft fur helps comfort me when I'm in need of reassurance.

💫- There's no right or wrong way to regress. How you feel and how your regression take form is no better or more correct than anyone else's. So don't beat yourself up feeling like you should be like other littles or that you're incorrect. You aren't. I promise you that much, little ones.

🐛- When with Satan, I call him Little Prince, Little Brimstone, and Fire Flower. He likes those nicknames. With other littles, I go by what they desire.

🍟- My favorite meal is Filet Mignon, if you can believe it. It's one of my favorite foods ever, ever since I got a taste of it during my "graduation from med school" party with my friends. As for snacks, a small smoothie always hits the spot. You can customize it with so many options, so you'll never get tired of them and can always spice them up with something interesting~!

🛁- As I said before, I've always enjoyed taking care of kids even before being introduced to the age regression community. So taking care of aggressors wasn't hard for me to find enjoyment in. I knew it for certain though the first time Satan looked me in the eyes and told me how glad he was to have me taking care of him. It was a moment of vulnerability he rarely showed to anyone, much less me, in his adult state. It's a moment I'll carry with me throughout my life.

🚗- The Beach. It's a beautiful place full of water and fun, and let's little ones be active!

🌈- I'm not sure if I have a particular favorite age range to work with. All of them are equally enjoyable to work with for me in my experience!

🪴- My favorite hobbies are meditation, arts and crafts, Incense and Candle making, and writing children's books. My work with Satan has been particularly helpful in giving me ideas for new books for little ones to enjoy~!

💌- I absolutely adore it when they make cute noises or ask for hugs or comfort. It never fails to bring a smile to my face!

💐- Don't be afraid to make mistakes and take it slow. New experiences can take a while to properly understand and test your limits and what you are and are not okay with. You'll make mistakes and you might even accidentally cross a boundary, and that's okay (within reason). Just be sure to communicate and be honest with yourself and people you share your experiences with that everyone can learn from it.

🌙- One of my favorite things to do with little ones is meditate and make incense. It's a calming activity that allows for conversation as well, letting me grow closer to the little one I'm interacting with.

🧺- I mostly care for littles in-person on the ranch, but I've been learning to help them online as well since I joined the community with Satan.

🥨- When I need to take a break, I ask to take some time to myself, go to my quiet space, and meditate or simply be for a bit, recentering my mind.

🐠- I prefer asks. No reason in particular, it's just my preference. I just ask little ones be cautious and know they're interacting with an adult. There are a lot of scary ones out there who want to take advantage of vulnerable littles.

(And on a personal note as the author of the blog, I will reiterate, I won't be friends with users under 18 for my and their own safety. They can send me asks, but NOT DMs. Not that I don't trust them, it's just a safety precaution for both our sakes. Thank you again for being understanding.)

🎀- I'm doing good. Thanks for asking!

(Author's Note: Personally, I've got a bit exit exam coming up for college. Big stuff, so a bit anxious. Wish me luck with that.)

🌿- I started the blog to give Satan a place to safely regress with other littles like him. He's always been a solitary little one and rarely interacts with anyone who isn't me or Queen Bee. I hoped by doing this and starting the ranch, he'd be able to embrace his little side more and not feeling he had to put on a defensive barrier to me and others to protect himself.

(Author's Note: I started the blog because I thought it would be cute to have a blog for Satan and Yogirt in the agere community. I had the idea ever since we first saw them in Mastermind in November last year.)

🍪- Love: The emotional connection and healing that comes with the activity. It's why I believe it should be more widely accepted in Hell.

Dislike: Cleaning up big messes. Though I accept and will not judge littles for making messes, they still aren't the most fun to clean up in the aftermath. Especially if it's a particularly stubborn stain. If it happens, I simply tell me little calmly but firmly to not make messes in the future and make sure they understand why it's important to not do so.

25 questions for agere caregivers, babysitters, & flips! 🍦🍃🍓

there aren’t very many cg-focused ask games (at least that i could find!) so i decided to just make one myself! feel free to send me an ask, or if you’re a cg/sitter/flip, rb and let others send you questions too!!

{NO K!NK/NSFW INTERACTION PLS!}

🌷— what do you enjoy most about caring for regressors?

🎹 — what term(s) do you prefer to describe yourself and how you care for little ones? (ie, a caregiver, carer, babysitter, or something else!)

🫧 — describe your ideal fun day with a kiddo! where would you go, what would you do?

🧸 — do you have a regressor of your own? if yes, tell me about them! if no, do you want one/more than one?

🌼 — what nicknames do you love to be called by a little one, if you have any you prefer?

🧃 — what’s your favorite drink?

🎨 — pick an activity to do with a baby: reading stories, having a tea party, baking cookies, or watching cartoons?

🍼 — do you regress yourself/are you a flip?

❤️‍🩹 — do you have any special comfort items?

💫 — is there anything you wish more age regressors knew? anything you want to tell them?

🐛 — what are your favorite nicknames to call regressors when they’re small? (assuming they like those names too, of course!)

🍟 — what’s your favorite meal or snack?

🛁 — how/when did you discover you enjoy caring for regressors?

🚗 — pick a place to take a little one: a playground, a beach, an amusement park, or an arcade?

🌈 — do you have an age range that you especially enjoy caring for? (to be clear: any and every age range is perfect and adorable!! this isn’t about which one is “best,” bc they’re all good!)

🪴 — what are some of your favorite hobbies? tell me a little bit about them!

💌 — what’s something age regressors do that you think is extra cute or endearing?

💐 — do you have any advice for newer caregivers/sitters?

🌙 — what is your favorite activity to do with a kiddo? (or, if you regress, to do together when you’re regressed too?)

🧺 — do you mostly care for kiddos online, in person, or both?

🥨 — how do you relax and destress? what helps you when you need a break?

🐠 — how do you feel about receiving asks or direct messages from little ones? do you prefer one over the other, or have any other boundaries about talking with you online?

🎀 — how is your day going? how are you really doing?

🌿 — if you have a caregiver/babysitter blog, what made you decide to start it?

🍪 — what’s one thing you love and one thing you dislike about age regression and/or caregiving?

[hwajin]

☆°. — burn me | hhj

genre: smut

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 3k

cw: wax/ heat play, dacryphilia, hyunjin is insanely needy

author's note: this hyunjin is @astraystayyh 's and hers ONLY. (she holds a gun to my head forcing me to say this)

You had wanted Hyunjin to speak to you. To reach out to you, to tell you things about himself. You knew he was shy, and you liked that about him. You liked when his ears shot red because you gave him a simple compliment, to his new computer set-up, or how very eloquently he helped you out with your Statistics homework. You liked how his body jolted when you touched him, when your fingers tickled him featherlight while he was studying, head deep in a book. You liked it even more when you teased him beneath the table when you dined out, a leg of yours creeping up his trembling one, and when he looked at you as though you were crazy. As though you were doing something so very forbidden, as though he never wanted you to stop.

But you had told him that you wanted to know more. That, yes, you could often read his face, his eyes, his body as it was, that he was an open book regarding his feelings, his preferences – sexual or not – his moods; but that it wasn’t enough. You wanted him to tell you if he was having a bad day, if he was struggling with the pressure he put on himself. You wanted him to tell you if he was feeling good, when you let your fingertips dance delicately across his stomach, tracing the lines of his faint muscles, wondering where they came from with the lack of exercise and the hours spent in front of his computer. You wanted to know if there was something he wanted to do, he craved to try, dreamed of at night. What he thought about when he lay alone in his bed, on nights you couldn’t spend together, what went through his mind when he closed his eyes and touched himself. You wanted him to spell it out. To tell you. To get past his futile embarrassment and open himself up to you.

You were looking at the package in your hands as you were sitting at the edge of Hyunjin’s bed. Perplexed. Curious. The water hitting the tiles in the other room reminded you that your boyfriend would take a while to come out, always preferring long showers, always waiting for the stream to turn cold before he considered reaching for the towel; so you were left figuring out the contents of the package yourself.

Wax. Massaging wax. Wax which looked too… sensual to be put on his windowsill and lit on romantic evenings. Wax which he had ordered for different purposes, you were sure.

And you knew you were right when Hyunjin, not fifteen minutes later, stood in front of you, stuttering, flushed, the redness on his cheeks spreading all around, his glasses still fogged up from the condensation in the bathroom. It didn’t help his embarrassment that he had chosen to only throw around a towel over his waist; you liked that. You liked that he deemed clothes as nihil after his showers; you both knew that whenever he was done studying, long past midnight, clothes would discard themselves from your bodies in mere minutes, anyways. You liked that though he was shy, he granted himself to you in a certain way, gifted you a part of his vulnerability. That he wasn’t afraid to be loved by you.

“Listen, I wanted to tell you…”, he started. But he didn’t make it far. Words failed him, the heat on his face distracted him. He couldn’t even look you in the eyes; and you hadn’t even said anything. You had only watched him, knowingly, before he had sat down on the bed, next to you, face in his hands to hide his embarrassment. Mumbling apologies you giggled at, because “Why? You did nothing wrong?” You couldn’t help but tense at the sound which escaped him at that, a faked sob, a deep whimper, something between that and an embarrassed laugh before he bent his body further into his arms. Hiding himself. Exposing himself. Because the skin on his back moved with him as he did, and you wanted to touch it. Because the skin on his stomach folded into million creases, tummy soft and protruding, and you wanted to kiss it.

“No, but I feel like I should have told you, before… before I just order something you might- like- end up not being into. And…”, he looked at you then, barely. Glanced at you from beneath the confines of his arms, glasses sitting on his nose crooked. The look in his eyes when he struggled to find the bravery to speak, to admit. “I’m not even sure I’m into… wax play; heat play. Whatever. I wanted to… try it. On myself- by myself. Before we tried it together.”

You chuckled, and he closed his eyes in pained expression again. You could say you had never seen him so crimson, but that would be a lie; you saw him so crimson every day, whenever you tickled a confession out of him by kissing the lobe of his ear, or when you sighed out how good he felt when he found himself hovering over you, inside you. Quite frankly, you saw him dripping in red more than you saw his actual skin, and it made you chuckle at him again.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, love. And you don’t have to- like, know exactly what you’re into to tell me it’s something you wanna try. We can experiment together.”, you said while sliding closer to him along the mattress. You felt the heat of his body radiating over to your own, and you nudged his shoulder slightly with your head. Made him glance at you again, from the side. You smiled at the smile he granted you, giggled then, to soothe him some more. Your shy lover. Your lover who bore secrets so erotic and deep you feared to never get behind them all in this lifetime.

“And besides, it’s more fun together.”, you ended with a playful wink, and Hyunjin’s whine turned into a laugh, and it sent a shiver along your neck, behind your ears.

It’s how you found yourself over his body. Watching his limbs spread across the bed, his fingers digging into the pillow beneath his head, the knuckles white. It made his arm tense up, made his veins shine blue in the relative darkness of the room. Ignited only by candles. Smelling only of vanilla. And his body. And sex.

When the first drip of hot wax had spilled on his naked body, close to his navel and so red against his pale skin your eyes had fluttered, Hyunjin had hissed. He had jumped in his place, a big palm reaching for you and long fingers digging into your flesh. You had asked if he was okay; he had looked almost concerned, and you’d been sure he’d tell you to stop. To just try something different. That it didn’t feel like he’d imagined it to. But then he’d raise his head a little, and his eyes had searched for yours; and you knew he had loved it. You knew that a little more of this, and he’d be a puddle in his own mattress, a wet, whining, desperate puddle in your hands.

Now, his lips were as red as the dried wax all across his body. Scattered here and there, two drops on his collarbone, perky and bony whenever he moved. Three drops on his chest, dangerously close to his nipples; he had whined particularly loud at those. The drops formed a path to his sex, scattering the skin there the most. On the lines by his abdomen, the dips in his hips, pooling there. Cracking at his thighs because he moved so much, squirmed under you uncontrollably. Hyunjin had spread his legs somewhere in the process; he was so needy, so lost in chasing after his pleasure that he lost himself, found himself in your eyes and grew bashful. You had taken the opportunity, had seen the supple flesh of his inner legs, so close to his darkened erection, that you let a few drops fall there. And Hyunjin had screamed. He had bitten the back of his hand, remembering the other students in the dorm. Had forgotten all about them in a manner of seconds when you did it again, let wax meet the sensitivity of his skin, and he had cried your name. Had writhed and groaned into the pillow beneath him. Had struggled finding his glasses when he’d lay on his back again.

You watched his bent arm, the way he was digging his fist into the space between the pillow and his hair. Struggling. Whining. Constantly whining; he wasn’t ever quiet now. His eyes were shut, making his face crease and contort, his teeth fletched, so the feeling of heat on his biceps was a surprise, and he yelped at it. It trickled closer to his armpit, and when it tickled, he shivered. A moan so throaty ripped through the room that you felt your clit throb, your stomach twist. And then Hyunjin sobbed, in frustration, or in pleasure, or due to sensations even deeper, emotions even greater. He sobbed, dryly, because he seemed overwhelmed of what else to do, and it made you kiss him. You bent down to peck his chest, to nibble at his collarbones. You kissed his neck, licked it, breathed in the scent of the vanilla candle there, of his sweat. You tickled his jaw with your breath, as hot as the wax, or hotter, felt him pant, felt him whine. You kissed his chin wetly, with an open mouth, leaving traces of you everywhere, traces of spit next to the traces of wax, a body traced in love. Because his body was made for it. To be loved, adored. To be destroyed and put back together.

It was when you kissed his lips, red and puffy and spit-laced and bruised, that you noticed the wet on his pink cheeks. The tears behind his glasses, past his eyes. You halted in your tracks.

“Babe, you okay?”

Eyes shooting open, and Hyunjin caught you off guard when he looked at you; eyes flooded with desire, with you. Bloodshot, reddened. Everything was red, you saw it everywhere on his body. And he nodded. Frantically. Desperately. You didn’t need to ask if he wanted you to stop, you could read it on his face that “Please, please, whatever you do, don’t stop. Never stop.”

So you pulled back again, a smirk tugging at your lips. And Hyunjin flushed when he saw it. You took hold of the candle again, hovered it over him. He watched it. The anticipation made the man suck in a breath, and his abdomen hallowed out. You let wax drip into the dip it created, liked the way it nestled there. As if it belonged there. As if he was made to be painted, to be pleased like this.

„Does it hurt, baby?“

A whine from his mouth, and the glasses on his nose sat so deep. He was sweating, wet all around, and the piece of metal just didn’t want to stay where it belonged. You liked it. Would never, not after half a year of being with him, get tired of the way he fixed them. Though he didn’t now. Now, his glasses where the last thing on his mind. Hyunjin shook his head, then he nodded. Then he shook it again. He couldn’t look at you. He was too shy to.

“N-no… yes. I- hmm… I don’t know- fuck-“

Fingers digging into the mattress, finding your flesh then, marking you with the tips of his fingers, with the sharp of his nails. Mindlessly, he was clinging onto you without knowing he was. Because he needed you. Because his body was calling for your own.

“Why are you crying, then?”

Another tear of his fell gen his temple just as you let another droplet of wax meet his skin; it was so close to his sex, tangling with his pubes as it trickled further down that you were sure it pained, but his reaction was heavenlier than anything you could have imagined; a cry of your name and he sobbed it, every syllable, every letter. More tears were rolling past his eyes. He was calling out to you, for salvation, for more, for less, for everything. And the muscles beneath his skin were trembling; you believed you could see it. He was vibrating, he was hot. He was red all around; his erection the most aggressive tone of them all, the white precum so pearly, so white in contrast. You wanted to lick it off.

“I- I don’t know. Because- fuck, ohh my god-“, heavy breathing, heaving chest. Hyunjin knew you better than leaving the question unanswered, though. Was too eager to leave a question simply hang in the air. “Because it feels so fucking good.” He didn’t look at you when he said it. He reddened deeper when he said it. The sweat on his forehead thickened when he said it.

“Yeah? Does it?”

He nodded, nodded and nodded so hard his glasses dared to fall off. He didn’t care. He continued nodding, until you chuckled. Then he looked at you. His eyes were so clear, so shot with pleasure. They were saying everything his mouth couldn’t, was shy to. You shivered in his gaze; how could a man so beautiful be so unaware of it?

“And because- because I’m so embarrassed.”

He whispered the words. He looked at you so intently; because he knew you’d ease him off. He was aware that his shame was futile, that it was never justified. And you knew that a part of him liked it. That sometimes, a man as smart as him enjoyed to turn dumbfounded in your hold. That the lack of thoughts, the struggle to find words when he was around you, reminded Hyunjin of the effect you had on him. It reminded him how much you liked it; when he started stuttering, when he forgot what he was talking about, when his only affections, his only obsession was you.

You chuckled, face smitten, lashes batting at him. He whimpered, bit the back of his hand when he felt the wax near his erection. It was so hard. And he was so close; if you didn’t touch him soon, he thought, he would come undone without any contact at all.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about feeling good, baby. You can let go when you’re with me. Don’t be shy about feeling good when you’re with me.”

Hyunjin thought this was his demise. His hell and heaven simultaneously, that it was in your hands he would die, in your hands he would be reborn again.

He pleaded you. Silently first, then with a trembling word; he needed you. He had never needed you more than now. He put his embarrassment to the side, took to heart what you always wished of him; to tell you what he wanted. To tell you what he needed.

“You, babe. I need you, I can’t, I- fuck, please, baby, please. I need to feel you, please.”

You had never heard him beg this way. Had never seen such lust in his eyes. You had never been so wet, not for him, not for anyone. He had the ability to break you, and he wasn’t even aware of it. Laying in the nude before you, traces of wax and spit and love on his body, and he didn’t even know you were as obsessed with him as he was with you.

Your panties and shirt were discarded quicker than either of you could look. You were hovering over him, and Hyunjin swore your pussy was hotter than the wax, than the fire burning it down. Before you sank down on him, he stopped you, numb fingers caressing your waist. He whined, writhed. He couldn’t look at you, he mumbled something. It wasn’t until you put a thumb on his chin and made Hyunjin look at you that he reddened, again, always reddening. He was breathing heavy when your eyes met. So heavy that you felt the warm condensation of it on your fingers. It was shaky, he was shaking.

“I’ll come. Like, right away. I’m already coming, I think.”

The confession knocked the breath out of your lungs. For someone so shy, so bashful about the slightest touch, the most innocent contact his words were always marked with an eroticism so great, so honest. No one had ever talked to you the way he talked to you; despite his shyness, despite his hesitations.

You assured him, kissed him, pecked his lips. They were hot, wet. They were dripping with his love for you.

And then you positioned yourself above him, and when you took hold of his base to guide him against you, when you felt him slide past your wetness and into you his hands dug into your flesh, so deep into your waist it hurt, but you didn’t mind it. It was his face you were focusing on; heavenly. As though he had found heaven. He was coming, hard, jolting his trembling hips against you; he was merely grinding against your pussy, against your clit, not much penetrating even, and yet he looked as though he had never felt a pleasure bigger than this. Eyes rolling back, violently. Lip bleeding between his teeth. Spit spewing when he cursed deeply, throaty. Sweat running down his temples, your waist because his palms coated you in it. In him. His scent, his wetness.

And you watched the red traces on his body. The pale colour on his cheeks, the feverish one on his lips. The deep, sensual one on his chest and stomach and abdomen, the bit on his biceps, the dried and flaked red wax. Only memories of it remaining when you’d wash it off later in the shower, when the morning sun would almost come out again. When you’d kiss him there later, after he’d come down, in the spots the wax had been, to soothe skin, to comfort him. And the wax would stand by his nightstand, proof and witness of the past hours, of Hyunjin’s desire, of your love.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @ppiri-bahng @cherrrywon @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @junebug032 @noellllslut @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @astraystayyh

[energ00n]

Prima is very mystical and mysterious. He’s Very intriguing. I read Orion doesn’t experience much bullying because people don’t know how Prima would react. That gotta be translated to a fear of some kind right? Is there a reason to be afraid of him?

I was curious if you could get into what exact religious stuff Orion is being taught by Prima. Like funerals or Conjunx Endura ceremonies (weddings).

I had an idea in my head seeing Orion taking care of Spark flowers/remembrance flowers. (For context, Spark flowers are a little device that resembles a little blue flower that contains an echo of a spark that was once there. Signifying someone’s life who was lost)

Anyho, if any of this is repetitive just ignore it.

The public don’t know much about Prima to make any solid assumption. All they got is that he’s the eldest Prime, he seems benevolent, kind and never a seam out of place.

However, in the history books, Prima was almost described as a bringer of destruction in the name of Primus. He lead wars again and again and brought only victories for Cybertron. He was their warlord. People get dubious about those stories, Prima looks harmless and gentle, and the Star saber they can casually see during a knighting ceremony couldn’t have been used to leveled planets.

So yeah, people are mostly afraid of the unknown than they’re afraid of Prima, they just have 0 clue what He’d do.

Right now Orion doesn’t host or directly partake much in these ceremonies, he’s still learning but he’s, Prima does take him there so he’d have a sense of how things go in Iacon. I love the idea of Orion taking care of the remembrance flowers! Perhaps Prima has a patch of them in his garden

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HIM & I

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe confronts the pogues after they try to get his girl to turn on him—big mistake.

based on this ask !! sorry it took a while anon, but i hope you enjoy it and it’s what you asked for :) got a couple request in the drafts stm, just editing them and i’m gonna’ start posting them one after the other <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: cursing, rafe threatening the pogues, mentions of murder, maybe a sliiightly toxic relationship (?), alcohol consumption. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

THIRD PERSON +

The summer heat hung heavy in the air, thick with salt and gasoline, the scent of the Outer Banks. The island was split in two—the Kooks, who had everything, and the Pogues, who had nothing. And in the middle of it all stood Y/N, Rafe Cameron’s girl.

Not just his girlfriend. His obsession.

Rafe wasn’t known for being soft. Not with his father breathing down his neck, not with his so-called friends who only stuck around for the drugs and money, and certainly not with the Pogues, who were a thorn in his side. But Y/N—she was different. She was the only thing in this world that could make Rafe pause, the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to destroy.

He was still reckless, still dangerous, still a ticking time bomb—but with Y/N, he was something else too. Soft, almost. Not in the way that made him weak, but in the way that made him even more dangerous. Because if anything ever happened to her, he would burn this island to the ground.

They were inseparable, always tangled up in each other, whether it was his arm slung over her shoulders at a party, his lips trailing down her neck when no one was looking, or the way she fit perfectly against him when he finally let himself rest.

Y/N would do anything for Rafe. And he’d do anything for her.

So when the Pogues pulled her aside one afternoon, she already knew there was no world in which she would betray Rafe Cameron.

They had found her alone near The Wreck, waiting for Rafe to pick her up. Pope was the first to speak. “Y/N, listen, we need your help.”

She raised an eyebrow, already uninterested. “With what?”

“Proving John B’s innocence,” Kie said.

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “You’re joking, right?”

They weren’t.

“Rafe killed Peterkin,” Pope said, low and serious. “We know it. And we know you know it too.”

“Sarah saw him,” Kie added. “We just need something—anything—that proves it wasn’t John B.”

“You don’t have to protect him,” JJ said, his tone a little different from the others. He wasn’t pleading with her, wasn’t trying to reason. He was taunting. “I mean, come on, Y/N, you think Rafe would do the same for you?”

That made her blood boil.

“You don’t know anything about me and Rafe,” she snapped.

“Then prove it,” JJ challenged. “Help us, and I’ll believe it.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You actually think I’d turn on him? That I’d betray my Rafe for you?” She took a step closer, her voice venomous. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not afraid of Rafe. I love him. And if you think for a second that I’d help you take him down, you’re out of your goddamn minds.”

She left them standing there, stunned, and walked away without looking back.

Rafe was waiting for her in his truck, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other tapping against his knee impatiently. He relaxed the second he saw her, his sharp features softening, his whole body exhaling in relief.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked as she climbed in.

“Talking to the Pogues,” she said, her voice laced with irritation.

Instantly, Rafe’s expression darkened. “What?”

“They tried to get me to help them prove John B’s innocent.”

Rafe went still.

It was a terrifying kind of stillness, the kind that came before a storm. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“They what?” His voice was calm, but she knew him too well to be fooled.

“They think I’d turn on you,” she said, shaking her head, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That I’d help them prove you killed Peterkin.”

That was all it took.

Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, one that sent chills down her spine. “That’s fucking hilarious,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “They actually thought you’d betray me?”

His laugh faded just as quickly as it came. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and that familiar rage flickered to life behind his blue eyes.

“They think they can talk to my girl,” he said, his voice dark and dangerous. “That they can turn you against me?”

She could see the storm brewing inside him, the way his fingers twitched like he was itching to grab something—someone. His knee bounced violently, and his breathing was slow, controlled, like he was trying not to explode.

Y/N reached over, placing her hand over his. “I shut them down,” she murmured. “They’re idiots if they ever thought I’d turn on you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his knee stopping its frantic movement. He grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “They don’t get to talk to you. They don’t get to look at you. They don’t even get to fucking think about you.”

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his jaw. “Then make sure they don’t,” she whispered.

Rafe turned his head, his lips crashing against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. He kissed her like he was staking his claim, like he needed to feel her, taste her, to remind himself that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled away, his eyes were still burning with fury.

“They’re gonna regret ever coming near you,” he muttered.

Y/N didn’t doubt it for a second.

—

The Boneyard was alive with the pulse of heavy bass and the crash of waves against the shore. Fires burned bright, illuminating the faces of Kooks and Pogues alike, their rivalries momentarily drowned in the haze of alcohol and summer heat. But that peace wouldn’t last.

Not tonight.

Because Rafe Cameron had a score to settle.

He stood at the top of the dunes, looking down at the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. His jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Y/N stood beside him, her lips curled into a smirk, arms crossed casually over her chest. She knew what was about to happen—hell, she’d been waiting for it just as much as he had.

“You ready?” Rafe asked, voice low, eyes burning.

She turned to him, expression playful. “Always.”

Rafe smirked, but there was no humor behind it. Just something dark and volatile, barely contained. Then he was moving, striding down the dunes with the confidence of someone who owned this entire island.

Heads turned as he passed. Kooks raised their cups, cheering for their golden boy, oblivious to the rage simmering just beneath the surface. But the Pogues? They stiffened the second they saw him.

John B, JJ, Pope, and Kie were gathered near the fire, deep in conversation, but the second Rafe and Y/N approached, they all fell silent.

JJ was the first to react, straightening up and rolling his shoulders back like he was ready for a fight. “Oh, look,” he drawled, taking a swig from his beer. “Kook Prince and his loyal queen.”

Y/N scoffed, but Rafe barely acknowledged the remark. His eyes were locked on them, sharp and unrelenting.

“Which one of you dumbasses thought it was a good idea to talk to my girl?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.

John B tensed. Kie shifted uncomfortably. Pope kept his mouth shut.

JJ, of course, grinned. “You mean about you, uh, murdering someone?”

Rafe laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. “That’s funny,” he said, tilting his head. “You know what else is funny? Thinking Y/N would ever betray me.”

JJ’s smirk faltered for just a second before he masked it with bravado. “I don’t know, man. She seems smart enough to know when she’s on the losing side.”

Y/N let out a laugh, stepping closer, brushing against Rafe’s side. “You’re delusional if you think there’s any world in which I’d choose you over Rafe,” she said. “I mean, come on, JJ. Are you really that desperate?”

JJ’s jaw clenched, but before he could say anything, Rafe took another step forward, closing the distance.

“You don’t talk to my girl,” he said, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “You don’t look at my girl. You don’t even fucking think about her. Understand?”

JJ, never one to back down, scoffed. “Or what?”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his smirk returning, but this time it was cold, calculated. “You don’t ‘wanna find out.”

There was a pause, thick with tension.

JJ met Rafe’s stare head-on, but for the first time, there was something hesitant in his gaze.

Rafe had always been unhinged. Dangerous. But this? This wasn’t just some Kook/Pogue rivalry. This was personal.

And when it came to Y/N, there was no line Rafe wouldn’t cross.

John B finally spoke, stepping between them. “We don’t want any trouble.”

Rafe let out a short, mocking laugh. “Yeah? Then you should’ve kept your mouths shut.”

The Kooks were starting to notice now, whispers spreading, eyes darting toward the confrontation. It wouldn’t be long before the whole party knew.

“You think you’re untouchable,” JJ muttered, shaking his head.

Rafe smirked. “No. I know I am.”

Y/N chuckled beside him, slipping her hand into his. “You should’ve known better,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Rafe isn’t someone you fuck with. And neither am I.”

JJ’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. Not when it was so obvious that they had lost whatever game they thought they were playing.

Rafe leaned in, voice just loud enough for the Pogues to hear. “This was your one warning. Next time? I won’t be so nice.”

And with that, he turned, dragging Y/N with him as they walked away, leaving the Pogues standing there, seething.

The night continued around them, the music blaring, the drinks flowing—but everyone knew.

Rafe Cameron had made his point.

Loud and fucking clear.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i loved this request sm, thank you anon and i hope it’s what you asked for !! <3 i’ve had this a couple request in the drafts, just editing them so i can start posting them, so there might be a couple more posts tonight :)

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) i’m gonna try my best to keep replying to reblogs and comments, because genuinely i am SO insanely grateful for all the love you’ve all given me :’) i’ve gone up by 400 followers since december and i’m so insanely grateful for the love on my page and my works <3

pls keep requesting my loves !! request are still open and i’m working through them until i go away on wednesday <3

[boofeine]

So interesting on how seventeen gets jealous.

Hehe, able to do a drabble for mingyu jealous based on it?❤️😬🫶🏽

(sorry for taking so long... again 😅)

WARNINGS: mdni, angst,,, unrevised work !!!

"I'm gonna take a shower" Mingyu says while you finish to let your shoes by the door and lock it as you both enter your apartment.

That's not an uncommon saying or action from him, but you know when you just know something is off? That was the case. He sounded dry for some reason and didn't even spare a glance as the first thing he does it's walk to the shower.

You're letting your things by the kitchen corner, taking some things out of your purse when you hear the water running. You feel uneasy and contemplate if you should dare join him or just wait to talk when he comes out.

'Fuck it' you think, walking to the bathroom door, jeans already being undone and shirt getting lose. You knock and no response.

"Gyu? Can i come in?" You speak through the door, waiting a few seconds before opening the frame "Gyu?" you ask again, slipping your head inside. The room is starting to get foggy, but you are still able to see the outline of his naked torso as the water runs down from his neck to his chest, enough to gather you courage to come in.

You finish taking your clothes off and join him. He slowly opens his eyes, meeting down on your small form as you smile foundly but whimsy.

"Hi" You murmur.

"Hi" He answers, dry again. Opening you space to take the water instead. He leads you and changes your positions with a hand on your hips. Even looking as something wrong happened, he stills the sweetest to you.

When you wet yourself enough, you look back, and he has shampoo on his hair. You change positions again, and he starts to clean it off. You tiptoe, getting closer to reach his long hair hair too, helping him out. Your hands are soft and caring as you caress his hair. Mingyu is just looking at you, the same way you are looking at him, but he has a sad look and pouty lips.

You pull him, soap on your hands as you start to spread on him, his shoulders first, and then down his chest and belly.

"When you're gonna tell me what's wrong" You say while on it.

He helps you, spreading the soap on his arms as he thinks what to say. After a while, he shoots "I saw that guy hitting on you earlier". Your lips form a thin line. Somehow, you want to smile, but he hasn't finished yet. "And still, you stay most of the night of his group of friends".

It's true, you think. Now that he said that to you, you can understand where it comes from. Yes, the guy did hit on you, but you said no, and also add that you are taken. His group of friends are your friend's friends, and the only people (that you slightly know) that were dancing, and you wanted to dance, so you stuck to them.

"You should've tell me" you said, getting a bit sad too. The sudden silence gets you itchy and you can see Mingyu swallowing dry.

"You looked so happy. I wouldn't bother your fun." He adds, confessing it. And some of it makes him embarrassed and bothered that you were having so much fun without him. But he won't tell you that.

"You don't bother me, Mingyu" You reply seriously, stopping on your tracks to look back on him. "I wanted to dance, and they were the people I knew" you add "I want you to tell me when you're uncomfortable" you say lastly, and you suddenly want to cry because you're afraid he didn't have fun like you did, and you feel bad for have not done anything.

"Okay" he says smally and low.

Silence again.

"Turn around" you said, as you start to clean his back down to his hips, but also to hide how a few tears fall down. You clean than off and finish "I'm sorry" You add when he starts to turn back to face you again.

"Please, don't be!" He answers way too fast that startles you, cutting your words "Please don't ever apologize for having fun. I am sorry" he says, and you nod because he's right, but still, he can't just put aside what he feels either, you think that just what jealousy is.

You tiptoe again, caging him on your arms instead as he touches you for the first time, sliding his hands to your hips and resting on your lower back that let shivers down your skin. Your faces are close, nose slightly touching.

"I love you" You say, your hot breath on his lips making his mouth open in an almost gasp.

"I love you too" He adds before finally kissing you, raw and needy like he was craving it.

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ (More) Vi dating headcanons ✞⛧

✞⛧ Vi is notoriously bad at maintaining a healthy sleep schedule. If she’s obsessing over a problem or working herself into the ground, you often have to physically pull her to bed. She’s stubborn but secretly loves when you care enough to do it.

✞⛧ Vi’s not great with plants—she over-waters them or forgets entirely. But if you’re into it, she’ll help you pick some out and even pretend she knows what she’s doing to impress you.

✞⛧ Pets, though, are a different story. Vi would bond instantly with a scrappy stray dog or a mischievous cat, seeing herself in their rough edges. She’d bring one home without asking, with some excuse like, “He followed me. Guess he’s ours now.”

✞⛧ Vi prefers showers—quick, efficient, and no-nonsense—but she’ll linger if you’re with her. She loves scrubbing your hair or pressing her lips against the back of your neck under the warm spray.

✞⛧ Baths aren’t really her thing, but if you’re into them, she’ll begrudgingly join, claiming, “This is ridiculous,” even as she sneaks an arm around your waist.

✞⛧ Vi is surprisingly low maintenance, but she’s the one doing all the maintenance for you. She’s protective and attentive to the point of being a little overbearing, constantly checking if you’re okay.

✞⛧ You might be higher maintenance in some ways (maybe emotionally or with small comforts), but Vi doesn’t mind at all. She thrives on taking care of you, even if she grumbles.

✞⛧ Dating Vi is like dating a firework: she’s intense, bold, and unpredictable, but she always lights up your world in the best way.

✞⛧ Vi loves surprises—both giving and receiving. She’ll randomly whisk you away to explore Zaun’s hidden gems or bring you a cool trinket she found while out.

✞⛧ Her idea of romance isn’t overly traditional. Candlelit dinners? Probably not her style. But a rooftop picnic overlooking Piltover’s skyline? Absolutely.

✞⛧ When she does try to be romantic, it’s often in her own clumsy way. She might fumble her words or get embarrassed, but it only makes her sweeter.

✞⛧ Vi’s hot-headed and stubborn, so arguments can get intense. She’s not afraid to stand her ground, but she’ll always come back to you once she’s cooled off.

✞⛧ She hates feeling like she’s let you down and will go out of her way to make things right, even if it means swallowing her pride.

✞⛧ If you’re upset with her, she’ll try to fix it immediately. She can’t stand the thought of you being mad at her for too long.

✞⛧ Vi loves spending time with you doing low-key activities, like lounging on the couch or working out together. She’ll get competitive but will always let you win (sometimes).

✞⛧ She’ll teach you how to fight if you want to learn. It starts as a fun sparring session but quickly devolves into her trying to pin you down just to fluster you.

✞⛧ Vi likes to take you on adventures—rooftop runs, sneaking into Piltover for a night out, or even just exploring the Lanes. Every outing with her feels like an adrenaline rush.

✞⛧ She’s surprisingly domestic when she’s with you. If you’re having a bad day, she’ll clean up around the house, cook (terribly, but it’s the thought that counts), or just sit and hold you until you feel better.

✞⛧ Vi is incredibly touchy. Whether it’s holding your hand, resting her arm around your shoulders, or pulling you into her lap, she loves having you close.

✞⛧ Her favorite way to unwind after a long day is cuddling with you. She’ll lie on the couch with you sprawled across her chest, playing with your hair or rubbing your back.

✞⛧ She’s not shy about PDA. She wants everyone to know you’re hers and won’t hesitate to kiss you in public or throw an arm around your waist.

✞⛧ Vi melts when you kiss her scars or tell her how much you love her. It’s one of the few times she’s at a loss for words.

✞⛧ Vi has an adorable soft side that only comes out around you. She’ll grumble if you point it out, but she secretly loves it when you make her feel safe enough to be vulnerable.

✞⛧ She’s great at hyping you up. Whether you’re nervous about something or just feeling down, Vi’s always there to remind you how amazing you are.

✞⛧ She doesn’t need grand gestures or fancy gifts. Just knowing you love her is enough to make her the happiest girl in Zaun.

Nsfw:

✞⛧ Vi’s the initiator most of the time, whether it’s date nights, spontaneous adventures, or more intimate moments. She’s bold and thrives on taking charge.

✞⛧ However, she adores when you surprise her with ideas or take the lead. It’s rare to catch her off guard, so she’s impressed when you do.

✞⛧ Vi likes control and dominance in intimate moments, so if you lean toward topping her, there might be some playful power struggles. She’s open to compromise but gets frustrated if she feels her dominance is being challenged too often.

✞⛧ Vi’s protective instincts might make her resistant to anything that looks like risk or danger, even if it’s consensual (e.g., choking or restraint). You’d have to build trust for her to feel comfortable with it.

✞⛧ Vi’s a thrill-seeker, so she’d totally be down for something risky—like a quickie in the back of her favorite underground fighting ring after everyone’s gone or in some dark, forgotten alley in Zaun.

✞⛧ The oddest place might be on a rooftop overlooking Piltover, under the stars. Something about the combination of danger and intimacy excites her.

✞⛧ Vi loves positions where she can be in control, like pinning you against the wall or holding your wrists down while hovering above you.

✞⛧ She also enjoys more intimate positions like sitting on her lap, where she can hold you close and make eye contact.

✞⛧ Vi is naturally a dom/top. She thrives on control and loves the confidence boost of making you melt under her.

✞⛧ That said, she’s not entirely opposed to switching in rare, vulnerable moments. It takes a lot of trust for her to relinquish control, but if she does, it’s incredibly meaningful.

✞⛧Her clit is highly sensitive, and while she loves direct stimulation, she can get overstimulated quickly. She prefers a gradual build-up or mixing roughness with tenderness.

✞⛧ Vi is highly responsive to touch. She doesn’t hold back on showing when she’s enjoying something—moaning, growling, or letting out shaky breaths depending on the intensity.

✞⛧ Her neck and jawline are sensitive—kiss or bite there, and you’ll have her blushing or growling in seconds.

✞⛧ Vi also loves when you run your fingers down her scars or trace her tattoos. It makes her feel seen and loved in ways words can’t describe.

Quickest turn-ons? Immediate turn-offs?

✞⛧ Quick turn-ons: When you get feisty or challenge her, especially if you’re usually reserved. She loves seeing your confidence shine. Whispering something suggestive in her ear will also light a fire in her.

✞⛧ Immediate turn-offs: Dishonesty or manipulation. Vi values loyalty and trust above all else, and anything that feels fake or forced will kill the mood instantly.

✞⛧ Vi is deeply comfortable with her body and doesn’t put on airs. She doesn’t shy away from being naked around you, casually walking around or getting dressed without hesitation.

✞⛧Vi is surprisingly sweet after intimate moments, gently checking in with you to make sure you’re okay. She’s the type to make a joke like, “Still alive? That good, huh?” but follows it up by pulling you close or grabbing a warm towel for you.

✞⛧ Vi has a narrow, muscular waist with defined abs. Her hips are lean, not very pronounced, but still strong and firm from constant movement and training.

✞⛧ She’s comfortable with her figure and never feels the need to conform to traditional feminine beauty standards. If anything, she takes pride in her strong, compact build.

✞⛧ She loves when you trace her abs or rest your head on her stomach—it makes her feel appreciated for her strength in a softer, more intimate way.

✞⛧ Vi doesn’t give much thought to to her ass, but if you compliment or grab it, she’ll smirk and make a cheeky comment, like, “You like what you see, huh?”

✞⛧ Vi likely has smaller to medium-sized breasts due to her athletic build and lifestyle. They’re firm and well-supported by her strong chest muscles from years of fighting and physical activity.

✞⛧ She doesn’t pay much attention to them outside of practical needs. Sports bras are her go-to for comfort and functionality. Anything overly frilly or lacy would make her roll her eyes unless it’s for your amusement.

[hyperfocusthusly]

Take me home

Day one of the @bucktommyfluffebruary - prompt ‘non sexual intimacy’

Notes: established relationship | words: 938 | rated: G

[Read on A03]

——-

Tommy doesn’t sit down on the bench as much as he collapses vaguely in its direction. He blinks slowly, eyes gritty with exhaustion. He gives up and just closes them, head tipped back against his locker. He can feel sleep pulling at the edges of his consciousness. He just wants to be able to click his fingers and be at home. He does not want to have to drive there.

The door to the locker room clangs as someone leaves and Tommy jerks upright. The fogginess of near sleep clouding his vision. Maybe driving would not be such a great idea. He twists and fumbles open the door of his locker, retrieving his phone. He scrubs his face with his palms and tries to concentrate long enough to find the right contact. He returns to his previous position, head tipped back on his locker, eyes closed as he listens to the phone ring.

“Hey love, everything okay?”

“Mmmm.” He tries to summon the energy to form real words.

“Bad shift?” Concern edges into Evan’s voice.

“No” Tommy can hear the roughness in his own voice. “Just long, didn’t get much sleep. Would you-” he falters momentarily, the feeling that he’s asking too much raising its head. He pushes it down, they’ve talked about this. “Would you come and pick me up? I don’t think me driving is a great idea right now.”

“Oh, yeah of course.” He can hear some movement on the other end of the phone as Evan moves through the house. Through their house. A smile pulls at Tommy’s lips at the thought.

“Give me twenty and I’ll be there.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The phone clicks off and Tommy is left in silence again. He takes a deep breath and feels himself relax, he settles in to wait for Evan.

——-

What feels like moments later, there is a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tommy blinks awake, sluggishly sits up, his back protesting the position he had let himself stay in for the last twenty minutes.

Evan’s smile is as bright as ever as he looks up from where he is crouched down in front of Tommy.

“Hey love.”

“Hey.”

Evan is fiddling with something on the floor, Tommy feels his legs being gently moved around. He tilts forwards and realises that Evan is untying his boots, carefully taking them off and setting them aside. Tommy groans, he’s still in his flight suit, the thought of having to get dressed feels vaguely overwhelming. He lifts his arms and fumbles with the poppers. His movements are slow and uncoordinated, the tiny metal clasp proving much more difficult than it should. Evan is there immediately, gently pushing his hands aside and releasing the poppers.

“It’s okay, let me do it.”

Evan slides his hands under the shoulders of the suit and frees Tommy’s arms, peppering gentle kisses along his collarbone as he goes.

Tommy leans into him, presses their cheeks together for a moment. It feels nice, to be taken care of. He’s not happy they broke up, all that time ago, but he can’t help but be grateful for the things it brought about. He’s always been so afraid of letting himself be known, be vulnerable but here, in this moment, he’s grateful for having broken through that barrier. Allowing himself to be so completely seen by Evan, it feels so beautifully intimate.

He is pulled from his thoughts by a gentle tap on his elbow,

“Lift your arms up for me, let’s get you into some clean clothes.”

Evan reaches over the top of him and pulls his bag out of the locker. Rummages through and pulls free a new set of clothes.

Before he knows it he is being pulled up off the bench, sweat pants secured around his waist. He lets himself fall into the crook of Evan’s neck.

“Thank you.” He mumbles into the soft skin there.

A hand runs up his back, holds him close.

“No problem darling, I’m always going to be here to help.”

Warmth stirs up in Tommy’s chest as he lets himself be guided out of the door.

——-

As they approach the jeep, Evan starts to rummage around in the bag over his shoulder, it’s awkward given that his other arm is being used to keep Tommy from sliding down onto the floor. He eyes the concrete, he could sleep there, it would probably be fine.

“Where are your keys?”

Tommy frowns,

“They are in the side pocket. I’m exhausted Evan, not drunk, you don’t have to confiscate them.”

Evan laughs, the sound is nice, drifting through Tommy’s ever slowing thoughts.

“I’m driving you home remember?”

Tommys sluggish mind fails to process what Evan is saying.

“But then you’ll have to leave your car here.”

Evan chuckles again. He is increasingly aware that Tommy looks like he’s about to collapse. But he can’t help but take a moment to look at his boyfriend, brows scrunched down adorably, trying to figure through Evan’s words.

Evan pulls out the keys and guides Tommy round to the passenger door. He opens it and helps Tommy in, who is, by this point, a bundle of uncoordinated limbs.

He smiles patiently as Tommy gets comfortable.

“My car is at home, I took an uber here, I am going to drive your car home. Then both of our cars will be at home.”

“Oh.”

Evan chuckles, Tommy is hardly awake anymore, his head dropping to rest on his shoulder.

Evan runs his fingers gently through his hair, presses a feather light kiss to his cheek

“Let’s get you home.”

Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed): @leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @jamieroyjamieroy @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

[colorlessjay]

S16!Dean has totally been in the habit of using S16!Cas as a lovey/security blanket whenever he feels sad/scared/lonely/etc, right? Like he gets sad and just goes to find Cas and grabs him in a snuggle and Cas, who is used to it by now, just lets him and depending on the severity of Sadness either just kinda ignores Dean and keeps doing whatever he’s doing or then participates and hugs back.

So when he gets sent back to Season 6, S16!Dean totally auto reaches for S6!Cas for a sadness snuggle only for Cas to pop away like you depicted previously and Dean all 🥺 and grabby hands like a toddler who’s lovey got snatched away because he’s not messing with Cas at all! It’s pure instinct at this point! And S6!Cas is like ❤️‍🩹💔?? y r u looking at me like THAT!!!???!! STOP!!!

HAH you got it spot on!

I've always imagined Dean to be a snuggler. Absolutely touch starved but never wanted to admit it. Wants hugs to hold for longer but is afraid to let it cause it makes to vulnerable and 'girly' or something like that

So when all those things get washed away, it's now Cas (Who for most of his experience, has not had many positive physical touches) who has to get tackled by his bear of a husband.

Like I imagine one day, Cas is outside early to walk Miracle. He gets stopped by one of the people in town also walking their dog and has a lovely conversation. All the while Miracle makes a friend

And in the middle of that conversation, Dean just appears and drapes himself along Cas' back. He's in his hotdog PGs and a robe, clearly just got out of bed, and now has his arms around Cas' waist

and the stranger is all "uuhh.."

"A moment- Dean?" Cas turns his head, and nudges it against Dean's "We've discussed this"

"Doesn't mean I like it"

"That's why we're doing it slowly. You need to get used to not seeing me if we're going to make this work"

"Again, doesn't mean I fucking like it" Dean grumbles against his shoulder

Cas turns to the stranger with a sigh "Please excuse my boyfriend, he has separation issues. I confessed my love not too long ago before promptly dying, and he's not over that yet"

Miracle doesn't see her new dog friend again after this interaction

[skiagraphe0]

I know exactly where it comes from: the idea all adults are evil predators who can only be in fandom spaces because they want to prey on kids. For years, people have been freaking out about adults being in the same Discord as a minor (gasp!) even though the server's topic is Animal Crossing, or been freaked out teenagers are on Reddit where adults are even though the only subreddits they have in common is r/watercolor. "Be afraid!" people scream, eyes wide in fear, "I heard a grown-up might be there and they'll unalive you or grap3 you!"

It used to be - and definitely was when I was growing up - that an adult speaking to a minor was not considered a massive risk. Adults were not seen as suspicious in hobby spaces, because it was understood that adulthood didn't mean giving up everything you'd ever liked. As the moral panic got worse, however, a sinister motive was assigned to pretty much everything. You're an adult, but you read books? Uh, books are sold at stores, and minors go to stores! You're an adult, but you play video games? Uh, minors also play games! You write fic and post it to the internet? Uh, don't you know minors are online? You're so scary!

There's also this idea a lot of Gen Z kids have that adulthood = the death of joy. When I got my master's degree, I was in classes with 18-24 year olds who were absolutely stunned that I still watch anime, play video games, read books, sew, draw, write fanfic, listen to pop music, etc. It was very odd, explaining to them that I just never thought of not doing things I like. I could tell this explanation was both confusing to them and made perfect sense. They had been told you become a husk at 30 and simply work, poop, sleep, and then one day die. They could also piece together that it wasn't logical for me to stop listening to music and drawing because I'd hit an age.

"But you're not weird about it, right?" was a question I got, often said with genuine anxiety. I would furrow my brow, confused, and ask, "I'm not sure what a 'weird' way to listen to music is? Or how to be weird about playing a game? I guess I don't, like, make room for Jesus when I make my Animal Crossing island or anything."

My dad is 84 and reads Star Trek fanfic/keeps up with the new shows.

My neighbor is 54 and loves Disney and is helping sew cosplays for her granddaughter/teaching her granddaughter how to sew.

The manager at my local Joann Fabrics is 60 and she just did her first cosplay.

Animator/artist/illustrator Tyrus Wong was still drawing and working on concept art for an idea to pitch when he died at 105.

The notion that adulthood means being miserable and sobbing in corner somewhere (if male) or tending to children (if female) and nothing else until you die is extremely recent. It's not supported by basically anything other than their own anxiety about anyone older than then being nearby. But the thing they don't seem to grasp is that their fear about someone posting someone or reading something isn't what anyone else is going to base their lives on.

If it scares you that someone has a hobby past the age you think that should be allowed, I'm sorry for you. That genuinely sounds like a lot of anxiety. Your life sounds really hard and really miserable.

But you're not my patient and I'm not a therapist. I can't help you. I can pray you get better, but that's it.

I'm not going anywhere. Neither are most people - if anything, fandom going more mainstream means we're going to see an increasingly higher number of adults getting into it, at the same time as kids into it age into being an adult.

If adults scare you, fandom isn't the hobby for you.

Fandom Problem #7211:

As someone who's almost 30, I legitimately do not understand why people on this site treat you like you're totally geriatric and incapable of having hobbies or interests. It's always "lol this person is THIRTY, they must have no life!!". I find age is weaponized most of all with censorship advocates who go, "imagine being 30 and still shipping characters on TUMBLR 💀".

[dwaekkicidal]

forever thinking of secret mean dom felix. your sweet, sweet lixie who dotes on you and holds you so gently and kisses you softly in front of his friends but is a totally different person in the bedroom.

pushing your head into the pillow, wrapping your hair around his fist and yanking hard while he tells you what a slut you are for wearing a tiny skirt and bending over in front of innie.

squishing your cheeks and making your lips puff out while youre on your knees staring up at him so prettily.

his voice beyond deep and growly in your ear when he tells you to beg for his cock and tell him why you deserve it if you’re so needy.

landing one (1) slap on your face when he has you on your back for daring to stick your tongue out at him, thinking he wouldn’t act on his words.

leaving you tied up on his bed with a vibrator taped to your clit while he games with orders of not to make a sound or even think of cumming.

having you cockwarm him in front of the boys for giggling at a joke seungmin made about felix needing to tame your sass. you can’t sass if your mouth is full, right?

mean dom felix lives rent free in my brain, its giving the musical doodle worm in spongebob iykyk

my sweet, lovely anon.. MARRY ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW.. jumping from wall to wall, gnawing my headboard, hanging from the ceiling like a fucking bat swinging around

secret mean dom felix is straight out of my nastiest fantasies.. i love being baby’d and being treated+treating others so sweetly is always my favorite thing- but then fucking like you want me to die is ... 🧍‍♀️i will find a way to impregnate the next man that does this to me

ahem. anywho-

secret mean dom felix who is just soooooo sweet and soo patient with you no matter what. he has his nose pressed to your temple more often than not, with a soft smile at the familiar smell of your shampoo/body wash and will give you random hand kisses literally just for fun.

the others actively gag (jokingly obv) at the sheer intimacy that felix just isnt afraid to show in public. they also will always call you guys mom and dad and will pretend to throw up when you guys show a lot of pda with no shame (theyre proud and good on you two!! but also “EEEEEEW”)

its become a regular thing, seeing you guys locked limbs and giving each other eskimo kisses or just soft and sweet little pecks as you hold each other close

hes the most respectful little guy that the world could ask for… but ohhhh my god. when theyre gone and it’s just the two of you, he gets SO disrespectful 🫠

what you said about the tongue sticking out is actually making me lose my mind!!!!!!!!!!! its such a like simple but childish thing to do and its literally THE perfect thing (in my eyes as of now) to do to piss off your dom 🥹 i genuinely might include this in my future brat taming things i write

but YES! slapping you across the face just enough to get his point across is so ‼️‼️‼️⁉️‼️⁉️‼️⁉️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️❕❕❕

he swears that he “hates” to do it to you, but the shit eating smile on his face and the way his cock twitches says otherwise

especially when he slides into you after having to tease himself to punish you properly, and that initial slide in doesnt feel as good as it normally does- at least not until halfway in, his palm meets your cheek or your tit out of the blue and your cunt tightens up so nicely for him!! not to mention, your sound are almost enough for him to cum right then and there

he loves to keep a hand in your hair for any reason. its a convenient means of reminding you who’s boss and keeping you obedient, all the while he can position you essentially to any position he wishes. (but its also good for holding you still so he can shove his tongue down your throat or so he can put your faces an inch from each other and in that sexy ass voice tell you to “watch your fucking mouth.”)

or better yet, he has one hand holding the restraints on your wrists while the other slides your favorite vibrator between your folds. roughly against your clit and at the max speed because “greedy sluts dont deserve to speak or enjoy their pleasure.”

him and that stupid ass vibrator are 🤞🤞

he chose a lovense because he loves the app controls while still being able to use it without the app, and it always leads to the freakiest (therefore yummiest) scenarios

you’re at dinner with the boys? vibrator shoved deep in your cunt while he teases the controls under the table.

grocery shopping and you just so happen to choose the emptiest isle to go down? 0-100 in literal seconds.

you wanted to watch them do choreos or just wanted to sit in the studio with the others? will look you dead in the eye and gradually up the speed of the vibrations until he can just barely hear it

running around the house doing chores? (playing the part of his little housewife ❤️) will put patterns on repeat and leave it running until the battery dies, or until youre finished cleaning. oh but dont worry about the charge!!! he has backups of your most used toys. :)

can, but will not give you any build up once you have the toy in solely because you getting caught off guard = the best reactions and the prettiest sounds. he will, however, sit there and laugh to himself when you struggle to walk straight or straight up fall to your knees at the sudden pleasure

and if any of the boys get invited to the bedroom, shits gonna get NYASTY… (ESPECIALLY with chris or minho 🫠🫠)

[itsnesss]

can u plss do a junho angst fic there are barely any good fics for him 😔

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you infiltrate the games for revenge, but meeting jun-ho, a disguised detective, complicates everything. when your cover is blown, he sacrifices himself to save you, forcing you to flee

warnings | angst, tension, suspense, moral ambiguity, desesperation, sacrifice, revenge, vulnerability

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The first time you see his face, you’re not sure if it’s a dream or a nightmare. The red uniform hides everything, as if his humanity is diluted beneath the masquerade of his role. But his eyes… there’s something in his eyes that makes you doubt. You recognize him before he recognizes you. That man, that guard, is not one of them. He’s not a pawn. He moves too precisely, his actions calculated, as though observing every corner, every shadow, every breath.

You watch him from the shadows, your mind racing. He shouldn’t be here, just like you. The difference is, you know why you’re here. The mission is clear. Revenge. To dismantle this cursed game from within. But him? Who is he?

Night falls slowly, and you’re alone, cleaning one of the cells that was just used in the latest trial. The blood on the floor hasn’t dried yet. The air is heavy, charged, as if everything is about to explode. Then you hear it. His footsteps, light but firm, approaching behind you.

You turn quickly, your hand instinctively reaching for the weapon at your side. The cold steel against your palm is a momentary comfort. But when you see his face, when your eyes meet his, you don’t feel fear—only a strange discomfort.

He doesn’t look at you like the others do. He doesn’t see you as a threat. Something in his gaze says he’s studying you. It’s as if he can see right through you.

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice soft, almost inaudible.

Your heart leaps in your chest. You can’t let him find out who you are. Not now. Not ever.

“What do you want?” you reply, keeping your tone cold, distant. You can’t afford to show any vulnerability. Not now.

“I know,” he says, without hesitation. “You’re not like the others. What are you doing here?”

You’re caught off guard by how close he is to the truth. But you can’t give in. You can’t let him get too close. The mission is all that matters. You can’t let anything distract you.

“The same as you,” you reply, the air between you tense, like it could be cut with a knife. The word “lie” hangs in the air, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he steps closer to you.

“Jun-ho,” he says, extending his hand with a confidence that leaves no room for doubt. His name sounds familiar, but you don’t know why. You don’t have time to think about that. You can’t think about that.

Taking his hand is a decision that consumes you. Something inside you screams that you’re making a fatal mistake, but something in his eyes, in his gesture, prevents you from refusing.

Time passes, and the tension between you grows palpable. You can no longer look at him without a strange feeling of discomfort rising in your chest. You know things are changing. You know your mission is beginning to fall apart. But you can’t stop. You can’t let him go.

Jun-ho is everything you’re not: calm, calculated, but always observing. Always alert. One day, he catches you off guard when you find him watching one of the security cameras in the control center—a place only the highest-ranking personnel should be. He gives you a look as you enter. You don’t need to hear his words to know what he wants.

“I’m here to dismantle this,” he says quietly, almost like a whisper, afraid someone might hear. “And you?”

Your eyes meet, and for a second, the world seems to stop. A wave of anguish washes over you, a pressure in your chest that you don’t know how to handle. The truth hangs there, floating between you, too big to ignore.

“I’m here for my brother,” you respond, unable to hide the anger igniting in your voice. Your brother. The one who died here. The one who never had a chance. Every word you say feels like a fresh wound. “And I won’t let anyone else suffer the same.”

Jun-ho nods, as if he already knew. As if he’d already guessed. There’s something in his gaze, something in his expression, that makes you think he’s not so different from you.

As the days go by, the anguish grows. It becomes harder and harder to stay away from him. The conversations, the glances, the small interactions… Everything you’ve built so far is undermined by the unexpected connection that has formed between you. He looks at you in a way you never imagined anyone would, and every time his eyes meet yours, a lump forms in your throat.

But you can’t afford distractions. You know the endgame is approaching, that the operation is intensifying, and you need to be ready to act at any moment. But Jun-ho… Jun-ho has become a weight on your chest. A constant pressure you can’t ignore.

The moment everything falls apart comes without warning. A new trial is about to begin, and everything seems out of control. The participants are more violent than ever, and the tensions among the guards are evident. You’re standing in a hallway, silently observing, when a figure catches your attention. A guard, one of the higher-ranking ones, points at you.

“You?” he says, his tone suspicious. “What are you doing here?”

In that instant, you know. He knows what you’re doing. The masquerade is over.

Before you can react, the gun is pointed at you. Fear consumes you in a second, but then you hear a shout. A familiar shout.

“No!”

Jun-ho appears out of nowhere, taking down the guard with a speed that leaves you breathless. But it’s already too late. The noise has alerted the others, and you can hear hurried footsteps approaching.

“Run,” Jun-ho orders, his face grim, his eyes shining with an intensity that makes you hesitate. “Now!”

“Not without you,” you reply, shaking your head. But Jun-ho is already pushing you toward the exit. Desperation overwhelms you, but you do it. You do what he says because you know if you stay, everything will be lost.

...

You escape. You don’t know how, but you do. You find yourself among the shadows, breathing heavily, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest. Every step you take pulls you further away from Jun-ho.

But weeks pass, and there’s no news of him. The anguish of not knowing if he’s alive consumes you. You find yourself watching every shadow, hoping he’ll appear, but all you find is silence.

Finally, when you can’t bear it anymore, it comes. The message. An anonymous note left in your hideout, with just a few words written in handwriting you know all too well.

“I’m alive. I’m still here.”

The anxiety you felt dissipates, but the uncertainty remains. He’s there, but at what cost? What sacrifices have you both made to reach this point? The answer is yet to come, but for now, you know the only thing that matters: Jun-ho is alive, and you, though broken, are one step closer to justice.

[mammons-lover]

Therapy With Mammon

Therapist (smiling warmly, gesturing toward the seat): Hello, Mammon. Please, have a seat.

Mammon (flopping into the chair with a grin): What’s up, Doc? How ya doin’?!

Therapist (chuckling softly): I’m doing well, thank you. And you?

Mammon (leaning back, arms crossed casually): Me? Oh, I’m amazin’, as usual. So, uh, what’s this all about again?

Therapist (calmly): Well, I was hoping you could tell me. What made you decide to come see me today?

Mammon (scratching the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance): Oh, y’know... just wanted to chat. You’ve heard about what happened with Lucifer and Satan, right?

Therapist (nodding slightly): I’m aware of the incident, but I’d like to hear it from your perspective.

Mammon (avoiding eye contact, voice lighter than the weight of his words): Ah, it ain’t that big a deal... just, y’know, Lucifer losin’ it. Hurtin’ Satan. But nah, that’s not why I’m here. I just... don’t wanna end up like him.

Therapist (leaning forward slightly, tone gentle): And what do you mean by that?

Mammon (grinning nervously): I mean, I don’t wanna hurt him, obviously! Not like... not like he hurt Satan.”

Therapist (noting the shift in tone): Why do you think you’d hurt Lucifer?

Mammon (shrugging, trying to stay light): Dunno... maybe ‘cause I get it now. What he told Diavolo, ‘bout all that resentment. I got it too. For him.

Therapist (gently): You resent Lucifer?

Mammon (hesitating, his voice quieter): To an extent... yeah. But it’s not hate, y’know? It’s more like... Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if we didn’t fall.

Therapist (calmly encouraging): And how do you think you’d be?

Mammon (smiling wistfully, gaze distant): Different. Better, maybe. I wasn’t perfect, but I was a lot... kinder. People liked me, even when I messed up. I’d try to fix things back then. Now? Feels like everythin’ I touch just goes wrong.

Therapist: Can you give me an example?

Mammon (rubbing his face, voice heavy with frustration): Yeah, like when I tried to get Asmo that limited-edition makeup. He didn’t wanna camp out, so I did it for em'. The line was insane, so I... mighta found a way in. Long story short, I got caught, banned from the store, and couldn’t even afford the resold ones. He didn’t get it ‘cause I screwed up.

Therapist (softly): Do you think things like that would happen if you were still an angel?

Mammon (quietly): Maybe... but the old me wouldn’t’ve stopped ‘til I got it for him. No matter what.

Therapist: How does this tie back to Lucifer?

Mammon (voice hardening, anger creeping in): He’s the reason I’m not the old me anymore. Sure, I chose to trust him when we fell, even when I doubted him. But now, when I see myself in the mirror... in my demon form... I can’t stop thinkin’ about how beautiful my wings used to be. Or how my brothers looked the day we fell—cryin’, changin’, thinkin’ we’d lost Lilith forever.

Therapist (gently): Thinking?

Mammon (smirking, but it doesn’t reach his eyes): Yeah. Lucifer doesn’t know, I know, but I overheard him and Diavolo. She didn’t die—she became human.

Therapist (curious): Have you ever thought about telling Lucifer you know?

Mammon (frowning, shaking his head): Nah. He wouldn’t like it, and I don’t wanna end up like Satan.

Therapist (concerned): Are you afraid Lucifer would hurt you?

Mammon (voice lowering, fists clenching): You didn’t see him. The way he looked at Satan, like he was some enemy—not family. It was... cold. If he could do that to one of us once, what’s stoppin’ him from doin’ it again?

Therapist: Do you think he will?

Mammon (after a long silence, voice steady): Yeah. And when he does... I’ll be ready.

Therapist (watching him closely): Ready how?

Mammon (leaning forward, voice ice-cold): Last time, I was scared. I tried protectin’ Satan by throwin’ myself over him, but it wasn’t enough. If Lucifer hurts one of my brothers like that again... I’ll kill him. No hesitation...

Therapist (gently but firmly): Do you really think killing your own brother is the answer?

Mammon (gritting his teeth): If I could fight against my brothers and sisters in the Celestial Realm, I can do it here too. I’d lose, sure, but I’d do whatever it takes to protect my family. Even if it costs me everything.

A/n: I wanted to show how Mammon tries to mask his feelings at first, playing things off and acting playful—until the conversation turns serious. Unlike Lucifer, who’s cold and standoffish with the therapist, Mammon’s emotions slip through once they start talking about what happened. He also truly believes he might have to face Lucifer one day, and even knowing how difficult it would be, but he’d do anything to protect his family. Next up is Levi, then Lucifer—I’ve already got them written! Hope you enjoy!