#....particularly the ones in which i am again frustrated in love

[kurooh]

i love this man. ♡ lil suggestive

keigo’s wings betray him with their movement, revealing how he feels at even the most inconvenient of times. he swears they have a mind of their own, which is always so goddamn annoying whenever he’s having a serious discussion or interaction.

“no get off me, you ate my leftovers.” he pushes you off his lap, his wings pressed into the couch and resting still.

“kei i’m sorry! seriously, they were like three days old and in the back of the fridge!” frustrated, you throw your hands around wildly. “kei, don’t be unreasonable.”

“i’m not,” he sniffs, his chin jutting out as he turns his head to the side stubbornly. “those were MY goddamn chicken wings.”

“i’ll buy them for you,” you offer, attempting to sit on his lap again, this time facing him instead of sitting sideways. he shakes his head, still looking away from you. again, he tries to shove you off in his pettiness, but your legs wrap around him, and you hook your ankles together at the small of his back.

“no. you’re not winning this argument, keigo.”

“yes i am,” he reaches behind him and shoves his fluttery wings against the couch to prevent further movement. he’s still dramatically looking away from you. “i don’t care what you do, but i’m gonna mourn my KFC.”

“fuck off,” you groan, grabbing his face in your hands and kissing his cheeks. he tries to tug away from you, and you accidentally rub against him as you unsuccessfully try to grab him back. his wings start to twitch.

you aim for his neck this time, kissing his sweet spots below his jaw and behind his ears. delicately, your lips brush against the tender skin, occasionally puckering to give him kisses. one of his wings snaps out from between the couch cushions and his back, jerking to the side fully opened. glancing towards his face, you notice the irritated crease of his brow as he tries to control his other twitching wing.

your sweet kisses become wet as you gently suck his skin; now your tongue lightly trails over his delicious sweet spots. keigo releases a shaky breath, his pinned wing starting to flutter frantically. still, he’s fighting to maintain his sour expression, despite your successful ministrations.

after a particularly sloppy kiss to the spot right below his chin, you feel a firmness in his lap, and you see his facade cracking slowly. when his wings flutter hard at the same time, you go in for the kill, nipping right at the spot you’d just kissed. finally, keigo chokes out a groan, and his wing jerks to the side, the both of them trembling behind him.

“are you done now?” you ask, pressing your chest to his and loosening the grip of your legs around his waist.

“shut up.” keigo says seriously, his face hot as he stares at your smug expression.

“in case i don’t tell you enough, i love your wings.”

he glares at you, and your lips split into a smile as you erupt in a fit of giggles, pulling off his lap and laying on your back beside him. your legs still rest on his well muscled thighs, clad in sweatpants.

he starts to laugh too, falling on top of you and burying his face in your neck as he wheezes a little. “you.. you annoy me so bad sometimes.”

“thanks, you do too.” you yank his hair, and keigo hisses, coming up from your neck to give you a kiss before snuggling against you.

“let’s go get the KFC,” he whispers against your ear. “i’ll write my name on my box and yours on your box.”

“okay okay, fine. i won’t eat your leftovers, kei.”

“promise?” you glance at him and his eyebrow is raised dangerously, his fingers poised at your sides to attack you with tickles in case you answer wrong.

“yes keigo. i promise.”

[readsaboutreid]

Periods Suck | S.R.

this is inspired by lenaleechi on instagram's comic about hating periods as well as the gif above because it gives me mad baby fever so i guess this is season 4 softdom!spencer x gn!afab!bau!reader plus a blink and you'll miss it buffy the vampire slayer reference

content warning: breeding kink and period sex [i'm too stoned to think of any others but if you think of them please add them (kindly) in the replies and i'll add them in later :)]

this is smut, minors dni pls and thank you

"...fuck this, fuck everything and everyone, I am done, I quit," I ramble as I open the door to my apartment and kick off my dress shoes that were painfully squeezing my toes, just adding to my frustration. This case had been particularly mild compared to others but I couldn't help but be in a mood due to the littlest things done by the (admittedly innocent) local police officers. I was so relieved to finally go home and get to sleep in my own bed and curl up with a heating pad and my boyfriend with a Doctor Who marathon.

"Deep breaths, (y/n)," I hear from behind me in a soft, soothing tone as gentle hands come down to rub my shoulders from behind. I know he’s well aware what’s causing me to be in such a shitty mood. His pattern recognition skills are off the chart and while he never outright said anything to me about it he'd always be prepared with hot water bottles and chocolate when this time of the month rolled around. I turn around and bury my face into his chest with a sigh.

"I hate periods, Spencer. They suck," I whine with a sigh, my voice muffled by the knit fabric of his cardigan.

"I know, love," he sighs above me, resting his cheek on my forehead and wrapping his arms around me, "I'm sorry there's not more I could do to help."

"You're helping already," I sigh again, but this time out of contentment as we sway side to side in the entry way. "I wish there was a way I could just, like, stop having them," I mutter, my face returning to the soft fibers that I had come to find so comforting over the years.

Spencer's voice is muffled against my hair as he mutters, "That may be something I can assist you with." I don't even need to see his face to imagine the grin spread across it. Lately, he had been subtly expressing his desire for children, but after JJ gave birth to Henry, his hints have become more pressing. And technically, it was all because of me.

The night was a blur of celebration and drinks, as Emily and Garcia joined me in raising our glasses to toast the occasion. But as we were caught up in the joy of the moment, I couldn't help but let slip that after seeing the pure happiness on Spencer's face at the sight of his godchild a spark ignited within me, igniting a fierce case of baby fever that threatened to consume me entirely. Garcia, the horrible traitor that she is, had messaged a video of my confession to Spencer before I had even finished talking and before I knew it, my phone was buzzing with pictures from Spencer himself - tiny onesies and miniature sneakers - accompanied by words like, ‘just imagine a little genius of our own running around our home in this.’

Without changing his stance, he starts off on one of his typical Spencer Reid rants. "Did you know that scientific research has indicated that orgasms can alleviate menstrual cramps? It's due to the release of endorphins and muscular contractions which help relax the uterine lining," he explains with a slight hint of arousal in his tone, "not only does it address your discomfort, but it also takes care of your other request at the same time."

"We could start trying now, if you want," he suggests with a playful tone, though the subtle hint of desire in his voice sends a jolt of anticipation down my spine and settles between my thighs, igniting a fervent ache. Oh. Oh.

I finally turn my head to meet his gaze, and I am met with intense desire radiating from his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and he licks his lips before gently tracing a finger along my cheek and following up with a soft, "what do you think?"

I interrupt him by pulling his face towards mine, and our lips meet in a soft kiss. Suddenly, I'm pushed against the wall with the command to "jump," and my legs automatically wrap around Spencer as he lifts me up by my ass. Our lips met in a hungry yet tender kiss.

Our breaths come in ragged gasps as he pulls away to meet my gaze, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. I eagerly nod, my heart racing and anticipation building. Our lips collide once more, the heat between us intensifying as we lose ourselves in each other's embrace. The world fades into the background as our bodies meld together, consumed by desire. He sets me down and guides me to our bedroom by the hand, giggling slightly with excitement. I know he wants kids and we have discussed having them together in the future but the giddiness of the grown ass man in front of me ends up drawing a giggle from my own throat as well.

As we enter the bedroom, he stoops down to give me a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom. He grabs an old black towel I use for dyeing my hair and returns, laying it down on the bed and patting it lightly. He sends me sweet smile full of adoration as he whispers, "after you, my love."

I stumble towards the light switch and turn it off before making my way over to the bed. I take off my top and lay down, the darkness giving me a sense of privacy. Suddenly, I hear a soft sound from Spencer as he walks away. The lights flick back on, and he quickly closes the distance between us with just two steps. Before I can even cover myself up in the glare of the harsh light, he's already crawling on top of me.

"You're so gorgeous," he beams at me again before leaning in to kiss me gently, lowering his hips to rest between my legs as they wrap back around his hips instinctively as he begin peppering kisses all over my face and drawing endless laughs from my mouth, "I'm," kiss, "so," kiss, "lucky," kiss, "to," kiss, "have," kiss, "you."

He moves back, his lips leaving a trail of fire as they kiss and caress my skin. My jaw trembles under the soft brush of his lips, before he slowly trails kisses down to my throat. I can't help but let out a moan as his lips touch the sensitive skin there. His body presses against mine, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing against my hypersensitive center. Every move, every touch, sends electric shivers through my body, igniting a primal desire within me.

My body aches with desire as I struggle to catch my breath. "Please remove your clothing now," I manage to say between deep, passionate kisses. Spencer eagerly strips down and helps me out of my own clothes before settling back between my legs. His arousal presses against the wetness between my thighs, adding to the intense heat building inside me.

"I've been craving this all week, sweetness," he mutters against my neck as he sucks feverishly at the skin, leaving love bites in his wake. "Craving you and your beautiful body." I have no idea how he managed to get me from wildly upset to wildly horny in such a short time, but instead of questioning it, I just let out a moan as I grind my hips against him, begging for his cock to enter me. He continues to tease me by rubbing the tip against my wet slit.

“P-please, Spence,” I whimper, unable to form a coherent sentence through the haze of lust I had become quickly lost within.

Spencer's eyes flicker with desire as he holds himself over me, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of my head. "Say it again," he growls, rubbing his erection against my aching center.

"P-please," I beg, my voice shaking with need.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

"As you wish," he murmurs before slowly sliding inside me. I gasp at the intense pleasure that washes over me, causing my body to arch off the bed and my nails to dig into his back. He begins to move in slow, deep thrusts, filling me completely and igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume every inch of my being.

As our bodies meld together in a blazing inferno, time itself seems to cease to exist. Every touch of Spencer's fingers sends shivers of ecstasy coursing through me, while each caress of his lips against mine ignites a fire within. Our movements are fluid and perfect, each one bringing us closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. I am consumed by an overwhelming sensation, my senses heightened to their limits as our passion reaches an almost unbearable intensity. It feels as though this moment could stretch on for eternity, and I never want it to end. In this single moment, there is nothing else but the all-consuming desire between us, and I give myself completely to it.

My heart pounds against my ribs as Spencer's gaze locks onto mine, his eyes filled with the same ferocity and desire that burns within me. He gives me a wicked grin, and I can feel my resolve crumble as the insatiable hunger consumes me. "You want to have my baby?" he gasps, and all I can respond with is a loud, whorish moan, entirely unable to form any words as his hips start to move ever so slightly faster.

He surges forward, his body fusing with mine in a wild, primal dance. Our movements become more frenzied, our bodies slamming together with the force of a thousand thunderstorms. My breath comes in short gasps as Spencer's relentless thrusts coax an orgasm out of me. My muscles tense, my hips bucking against him, seeking the sweet release from the intense pleasure building up inside of me.

Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word sends me higher and higher, my body arching and bucking beneath him in a frenzy of ecstasy.

Spencer's eyes are locked onto mine as he continues to drive into me, his gaze burning with an intensity that matches the fire inside us both. His hands grip my hips tightly, never losing rhythm as he thrusts into me and coaxes that sweet release from me. My body trembles and shakes with each surge, and I can feel the orgasm building, growing stronger and more intense with each passing second.

A low, guttural moan escapes from Spencer's lips as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming harder and faster. I can feel him growing more desperate, and I know that he's close to his own release.

The pleasurable ache between my legs intensifies, and I know that I'm about to reach that peak. I let out a helpless whimper as the pleasure was threatening to overtake me, and I feel as though I'm being pulled into a vortex of ecstasy. Time seems to stand still, and I'm lost in the moment, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

The bed creaks and groans with our passionate lovemaking, the sound echoing in my ears as I reach for the pinnacle of pleasure. Spencer's eyes are locked onto mine, and I see the same intensity in them that I feel in my own being. We're one, united in our desire for each other, and nothing else matters in this world.

His thrusts become harder and faster, the tip of his erection brushing against the most sensitive part of me with every stroke. The pleasure is overwhelming, and I can feel the orgasm building within me, growing stronger with each passing second. I cling to Spencer, my nails digging into his back as I beg him to take me over the edge.

“Gonna fill you up,(Y/N),” Spencer moans, “everyone will know who you belong to once you’re — oh fuck — carrying my fucking baby inside you.” His words send me falling over the edge and I can feel myself slipping away, my mind consumed by the intense pleasure reaching it's peak as my hips buck wildly.

Time seems to stand still as we reach the pinnacle of pleasure together. Our bodies move in perfect sync, every thrust, every caress, every whispered word fueling the fire that burns within us. The pleasure is all-consuming, coursing through my veins and reaching every cell in my body. I let out a series of orgasmic moans bordering on screams and Spencer smiles down at me wickedly, his eyes never leaving mine as his thrusts become harder and more disjointed as his own orgasm looms on the horizon. His moans grow louder and louder as the feeling of slight overstimulation makes me clench even tighter around his throbbing cock as he reaches his breaking point.

"Please, Spencer," I whisper, "make me yours, sir. P-please, please put a baby in me!"

Finally, with one last deep thrust, Spencer moans loudly and shudders above me, his body rigid as he loses himself in the pleasure of a release he had been building up to for what felt like an eternity. As Spencer's body shudders above mine, I can feel the warmth of his release filling me up, an earth-shattering feeling that takes my breath away. We lay there for a moment, our bodies still joined together, basking in the afterglow of our passion. Finally, with a contented sigh, Spencer pulls out of me and collapses onto the bed beside me.

I snap back to reality, my mind reeling from the intensity of our lovemaking. I can feel the stickiness between my legs, a reminder of the incredible moment we just shared. The room is still, the only sounds being our heavy breathing and the rhythmic beating of our hearts. I reach over to grab the bedside table, searching for a tissue to clean myself up.

"Spencer?" I say softly, my voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" he replies, still out of breath.

I flash him a saucy grin, "I think we'll have to make sure we keep trying this before my next period so I won't have to suffer through another one, for a while." I joked, while playfully poking his chest.

He chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, "I think that's a great idea, my love." I couldn't help but giggle at his response, feeling a burst of warmth spread through my body.

[cutielando]

Hello, I saw that your requests are open so could you please write something about Charles taking care of his girlfriend after getting a knee surgery, I got surgery not too long ago (nothing serious) from playing football and I just feel like he would be such a caring boyfriend.

a/n: thank you so much for sending this in!❤️

my masterlist

Ever since you could remember, you have always been the adventurous type.

You would rather go exploring than stay in, the thrill of a potential adventure overpowering the need for a relaxing day in with the one you loved.

Which fitted perfectly with Charles’ need for adventuring and going on as many trips around the world as he could.

But there was a slight problem with that. With the adventurous thrill also came the danger.

And you were very prone to injuring yourself. Just like you had done on the last skiing trip you had gone on with Charles, right before the F1 season started up.

Adventuring a little too much on a not so safe skiing slope resulted in your falling and injuring your knee. An injured knee which required surgery.

You had been devastated when you found out you would need surgery. Not only would the recovery be horrendous and strenuous on your body, but it also meant that Charles would go out of his way to take care of you, neglecting his training in order to make sure you were okay.

That was the biggest problem in your eyes. Not the injury itself, not the surgery that you would need to have, but the fact that Charles would move the mountains in order to take care of you.

Which is exactly what happened. 

You had your surgery two weeks after your knee was injured, a mere couple of weeks before the season picked up again. Charles was proving to be a great caretaker, dotting on you and being the sweetest person ever.

He would bring you food, medicine and anything else you would need in bed, he would help you to the bathroom by supporting you. He got in touch with the best physiotherapist that he knew and immediately started your road to recovery.

He would take you to every single therapy session, every doctor’s appointment that followed your surgery to track your progress and your recovery.

He helped you exercise at home, urging you to push yourself in order to get back on your feet as soon as possible.

He would hold you every time you would break down because it would all get too much. The pain, the recovery, the pressure of getting better, the stress on your body. He would hold you through it all, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that would instantly calm you down.

You didn’t like feeling this helpless, like you couldn’t do anything on your own and practically lived at Charles’ pity.

You hated it.

And Charles had begun suspecting as much. He had noticed how closed off you had become over time, but he didn’t want to say anything that might make you feel even worse than you already did.

“Mon amour, what’s wrong?” he asked one evening after you had got back from a particularly strenuous physical therapy session.

You smiled at him, shaking your head as you rested on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing, I’m okay. Just a little tired” you lied smoothly, but it was not enough to convince him.

“Please don’t lie to me. Something’s been bothering you ever since your surgery, don’t think I haven’t noticed” he said, sitting down beside you.

You sighed, biting your lip. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, everything that you had been bottling up threatening to boil over.

“I hate how dependent I have become on you” your voice was small, too worried that you could hurt his feelings.

Charles frowned, the wheels in his head turning to understand what you were really trying to say.

“Am I bothering you? Is that it?” he asked, his face sad and broken like a puppy dog’s.

You immediately shook your head, wanting to get up from the bed and comfort him but it would take you way too much time.

“No, don’t ever think that. It’s me that’s bothering you” you said, your frustrations slowly making their way towards the surface.

If Charles had been confused up to that point, he was even more confused now. How could you ever bother him?

“What do you mean? You’re not bothering me, what are you talking about?” he made his way towards you and took a seat next to you on the bed.

You sighed, tears slowly welling up in your eyes as you rested your head in your hands.

“It’s just this stupid surgery. I can’t even get up to go to the bathroom without needing your help. It’s pathetic, I can’t do anything on my own anymore” you cried silently, hiding your face in your hands.

Charles’ shoulders suddenly slumped into realization, his heart heavy. He didn’t say anything, instead he brought you into his arms and pushed your head into the crook of his neck, wary of twisting you too much because of your knee.

You let out strained and tired sobs, clinging onto Charles like your life depended on it. You had missed him, even though he’s been with you the entire time up until then. You had missed his touch, missed him holding you just because you both needed it. Both of you have been so preoccupied with your recovery, with taking your meds, going to physical therapy with Andrea and managing the pain that you forgot to be just Y/N and Charles, a couple.

You stayed in his arms for a while, just needing to let it all out. He understood that, holding you against him without saying anything, just planting kisses on your forehead from time to time.

Once you calmed down, you slowly pulled away from Charles, who wiped away your tears and gave you a small smile.

“Mon amour, I’m only going to say this once. You will never, ever in this life be a bother to me. I don’t care if I have to take care of you every single day for the rest of our lives, I would drop everything in a heartbeat to be with you. Don’t ever doubt how much I love you and the lengths I would go to just to see you happy and taken care of” Charles’ speech did nothing to stop your sobs, in fact they got even worse.

Charles knew it was the pain and frustration talking from you, and that you didn’t actually mean anything you had said to him. However, he didn’t mind one bit reassuring you and telling you anything that you might need in order to feel better.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled out once you started to calm down a little. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I get it, I would probably be the same if I were in your place. Just don’t ever doubt how much I love you and how much I enjoy feeling needed when you need me to take care of you” he joked a little at the end, bringing a smile to your face.

“I love you so much” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his lips down to yours.

Between salty kisses and whispered nothings, you realized that even through the rough patches, Charles would always be there to get you through everything.

Your caretaker for life.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[silverynight]

Dynamight's type

Izuku has noticed that whenever someone asks Katsuki's certain questions during interviews he gets really irritated; it's usually things about love and relationships that bother him the most.

It's one of the many reasons why Izuku hasn't told his best friend he likes him romantically; maybe Katsuki is not interested in romance at all or he just hates sharing his love life with the world.

Although it's not like Izuku ever thought he had a chance; he probably doesn't. Sometimes he thinks about looking for someone to start a relationship with.

"Let's move in together," Katsuki tells him for the... actually, Izuku has lost count of how many times he has told him that.

But Izuku always thinks he doesn't mean it because it doesn't make sense.

"Why?"

"Just because..." Katsuki says this time, looking particularly frustrated.

"We don't have the need to," Izuku points out, getting a little bit confused by his friend's response.

"I know."

"Kacchan... what if one of us starts dating soon? Wouldn't that be–"

The look Katsuki throws at him is enough to make Izuku shut up immediately; the other pro hero not only looks angry, he also seems hurt.

"Are you seeing someone?" The way Katsuki asks the question makes it look like each word is hurting him somehow.

"No, but–"

"I'm not going to start dating an extra!" Katsuki growls and, as usual, he walks away more irritated than when the day started.

Izuku honestly doesn't get it.

However, he usually goes back to normal when his patrol begins.

Until a reporter finds him after an incident; just right the moment after Katsuki and Izuku manage to save a group of people from a villain.

Actually, there are a couple of reporters, one of them even tries to corner Izuku and instead of asking him about the villain or the civilians, she asks Izuku about romance.

Alright, Izuku has started to get why Katsuki gets irritated at those type of questions.

"Are you dating someone at the moment, Deku?" The young woman asks, smiling at him and using one of her fingers to play with her own hair.

Izuku doesn't understand; is she nervous?

"Uhh... no."

"That's great!"

Not that far from him, one of the reporters is asking about Katsuki's type... again.

"So what would your ideal date be, Deku?" The reporter manages to draw Izuku's attention away from his friend.

"Maybe an amusement park? Sharing a crepe?" The green haired hero doesn't mean to make it sound like a question, but interviews always make him feel flustered.

"That'd be a perfect date for me too!" The girl says. "Would you like to–"

"DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW MY FUCKING TYPE?" Katsuki's loud voice cuts off the reporter who's interviewing Izuku.

"Of course, Dynamight!" It's a good thing most of the reporters are used to Katsuki's explosive personality already.

Instead of answering right away, Katsuki gets closer to Izuku and to everyone's surprise, grabs the other pro hero's freckled face and kisses him on the lips.

"There. That's my type!" Katsuki growls as Izuku's face turns completely pink. "Him. Only this nerd. Now, fuck off!"

The female reporter who was asking Izuku questions looks particularly upset about what happened, although it seems like she's a little bit reluctant to go... but she does anyway when she notices Katsuki is glaring at her.

Izuku doesn't get his hopes up, because it's obvious that Katsuki only wanted them to stop asking questions about his love life.

"But Kacchan... they're going to think we are–"

"Move in with me."

"Why?"

It feels like this is not the moment to have the same conversation all over again, but there's something different in Katsuki's eyes this time; he looks determined.

"Because I'm in love with you, oblivious nerd!"

Izuku's face is on fire, he's sure of it; Katsuki just told him he loved him. It almost seems like it's a dream.

"Are you sure, Kacchan?" His voice doesn't sound shaky at all, which is something Izuku feels ridiculously proud of.

"Of course I am! Wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't!"

After a heartbeat in which Izuku thinks about all the time they've been together and tells himself this is going to work, he nods.

"Let's move in together, Kacchan."

Just a year later, Katsuki proposes to him and of course, Izuku can't help but tear up. He's never been so happy before.

***

Patreon

[thesilmarillionblog]

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

Summary: You need to distract Black Noir during a party in Vought Tower so that your boyfriend Butcher can steal some files from the CEO's room that could be Homelander’s undoing.

Pairing: Black Noir / Female! Reader

Warnings: +18 (Minors DNI), Language, Supe Reader, cheating, reader is a member of the Seven

Word Count: 1203

A/N: English is not my first language.

You adjusted your tight black dress when Butcher told you what to do for the fifth time as you sighed with frustration.

“I got it, fuck, I got it, Butcher. I am no fucking dumb,” you said as you shut your eyes, irritated.

“Just do your best, love, and try not to die. Meet me an hour later in the parking lot,” said Butcher as he gave you an encouraging squeeze on your shoulder. “Cuntlander is not going to survive this if the rumors are fucking true and, of course, if we play our cards well.”

You answered, “Yeah,” sounding pensive and not particularly thrilled. “Hopefully, whatever he has done has been so vile and repulsive that everyone despises him.”

With a sly smile, he continued, “Well, you know, love, try, or fucking die tryin'.”

“I don’t know, Billy,” you sighed. “It’s like, even if he commits mass murder, which he has done many times already, he’ll get away with it again. I just don’t understand.”

“Hey,” he said, lifting your chin. “It will all end soon, I promise. Also, let’s hope everyone is enjoying the party out there, huh?”

He gave you a hard spanking on your ass and a swift kiss on the lips, amused by the crowd at the top of the tower while you two waited patiently in the elevator. “We can enjoy our fun later.”

He gave you one last warning, and when the elevator stopped, you gave him the finger and parted ways. After all that, you two made a great team.

As you greeted the reporters, other members of the Seven, and all the shady old rich folks in the room who seemed to be enjoying themselves with dull conversation, your eyes looked around for Homelander. When you saw Homelander discussing his new spin-off with Ashley and two men from VCU, you sighed with relief.

You panicked and followed Black Noir when you noticed he was moving in the wrong direction. Fuck, you thought.

You followed him for a while, touched his arm just before he went into the room Butcher had just been in, and then you dragged Noir into a dimly lit corner.

You walked up to him and smiled, saying, “Hey, Noir. You seem to be as bored as I am out here, huh?”

It was impossible to get him to talk and start a conversation with Black Noir, even though you tried your best each time. However, he didn’t even nod his head, at least showing that he was actually listening to you.

Not even moving a bit, he made another move to get into the room he shouldn’t, so you grasped his clothed, strong arm tighter, trying to take his attention. You moved closer to him, and you felt the sharpness of his eyes behind his mask. Moving your hand slowly between his legs, your fingers touched the funny piece placed before his dick.

You removed the pointless chunk from his thigh, taking your time so you could measure his response.

You palmed his hard length through his suit and muttered, “We two are bored as fuck out there, Noir. How about we enjoy ourselves together? What do you say?” Fuck, he felt big.

Although this was not part of your evening plans, there was nothing wrong with taking all necessary measures to steal Homelander's data and bring him to an

end. After all, that was a pretty good excuse to finally fuck with Noir. What Butcher didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

You touched your lips to his clothed ones as you began to stroke him through his suit and asked, “Do you want me to jack you off right here? Do you want me to make you cum?”

As you touched him, you heard him gasp and get firmer. He lifted his hand suddenly and gave you a hard shove to get on your knees. Excitedly, you waited for him to remove his tight suit and reveal his length. You were thrilled to finally have another dick because, for the past few months, all you had ever tasted was Butcher's. It didn't even make you feel bad—rather, it only made you more excited.

You cried out, “I want you to fuck my mouth,” as he gave himself a quick pump or two and then tightened his grip on your hair and forced his hardness into your mouth.

If you weren’t a supe, he would have broken your jaw already, but you were a supe and definitely built for this.

He moved quickly and forcefully to fuck your mouth while you moaned all around him, encouraging him to go farther. While trying to control your gag reflexes and take all of him, your spit was flowing around his shaft. Every time his big balls crushed your chin, they made obscene noises. You moaned loudly as someone else fucked your mouth in a dark corner, making you feel so hot and wet.

You stroked his balls with one hand, licked the salty precum, and wrapped your lips around the thick tip of his cock. He tasted even better than Butcher and was twice as big as fuck.

You spit on his cock and kept sucking him off, moaning, “You taste so good. Which would you prefer—to cum on my face or in my mouth?”

You could tell he was having a great time fucking your mouth, even though he was just moaning.

He took a firm hold of your hair and pressed his entire length down to your throat, causing both pleasure and pain to make your eyes water. As he placed your head against his thigh, the scent of his pubic hair filled your nostrils, making you want to savor every square inch of him.

He moaned like a whisper and pushed himself even more as he poured his thick and salty sperm down to your throat while holding your head firmly. You did not waste any of his sperm since you ingested every drop. You kissed the top of his dick after he removed it from your mouth. Then, he began to stroke himself a little harder and spilled on your face as well.

“Fuck, yes,” you moaned as he jerked off against your face. You knew that Butcher could never be like this. He was so soft and nice with you.

He helped you get up after he tucked himself back in his suit and watched you lick your lips with the taste of his cum. You heard him chuckling under his mask.

You would take your time with him for another day.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: I wish there were enough fics about Black Noir because he deserves the best, and I miss him so much. Let me know if you want to be tagged for Black Noir fics.

Taglist: @anundyingfidelity

[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

[puckarchives]

sweet girl / take a break: q. hughes

blurb: in which quinn takes care of you when you need it most — this was originally an ask i wrote for @sweetestdesire and i am not finally reposting!  / word count: 1.4k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader (WARNING: mentions of anxiety, anxiet attack, mental health.)

When you and Quinn had first begun seeing each other, a commitment that you joked “crossed international borders” because of the different sides of the border you were both on, you had made one thing particularly clear: school was something you took extremely seriously, and something you weren’t willing to compromise. Quinn, however, understood perfectly; he understood your want to be the best, to excel in everything, and to break your own records— in other words, you two were perfect for each other. 

Now, however, as you sat on the counter of your shared apartment two years into your relationship, (along with your relocation to Canada for graduate school and to be closed to the man you loved,) you couldn’t help but rethink every single decision you’d made when it came to school. Which is how you found yourself at your kitchen island at 4AM, caught up in trying to calculate and write one of your dissertation chapters based off of your research.

“What does that even mean?” you groaned, staring at the chart in front of you, trying to evaluate what type of funding allocations had been given to a certain subset of the community you were working alongside for your Sociology and Statistics dissertation, but feeling like you were majorly failing at it. 

You had been at this project for the past three years— and now, in your final year of your graduate program, you had been working yourself to the bone— being the first one in the lab at 6:30AM most days, and not making your way home until late at night, where you would kiss Quinn as he slept in your shared bed, but not join him unless it was to shower quickly before once again getting to work.

As the numbers swam in front of you, you couldn’t help but become more frustrated with yourself. Why couldn’t you understand this material like your colleagues? Why was it so difficult for you, and not them? Why couldn’t you just be good enough? Smart enough?

As these thoughts swarmed— a suffocating feeling of self-consciousness and imposter syndrome you had worked so hard for to trample down since you you had begun your undergrad in Washington, you tried to breathe— to remind yourself why you were here, but still failing; a failure that was making the streams of anxiety and panic bubble to the surface. 

Trying to distance yourself from the onset panic attack you could feel you were at the brink of, you tried to make your way outside to your backyard— falling on your knees at the back door as you could feel your frame shake with the sobs of self-disappointment and anguish; of the amounting weight of not being good enough, and of the feeling like you didn’t belong. 

You could feel the weight of the anxiety on your chest, a blanket made up of your deepest fears that you tried to breathe through, stuttering out shaky breaths on the floor as you tried to regain your composure. By your fifth breath, however, you couldn’t hold the tears at bay any longer— sobbing and letting the anxiety consume you like an endless and hungry wildfire— one that you couldn’t even trample down when you heard the opening of the door behind you, and felt the presence of the man you loved most kneeling down next to you, bringing you into his arms.

Despite how much you both pushed yourselves to the limit in your careers, Quinn was always there the moment you needed anything. He was your (albeit grumpy,) rock, and always the fresh of breath air you looked for. In a way, he was the Sun you stretched out to during the day, never shying away when he needed you in situations just like the one you found yourself in. 

As Quinn brought you into his arms, now rocking you back and forth, he held you— understanding that you needed to be brought back into yourself before he could speak to you first; understanding that you needed to be brought back to your physical state before your emotional one. 

As the two of you sat there for what felt like an hour to you, you could feel Quinn petting your hair and leaving small kisses on your temple, the scratch of his scruff leaving tiny trails of kisses as well on your cheeks. As your fears subsided, however, and your breathing went from rapid and choppy to calm and controlled, you disengaged yourself from his arms, only to look up at him immediately— seeing the worry in his big brown eyes, and seeing his sleep tousled hair and bloodshot eyes; remnants of the anxiety he felt seeing you break apart, no doubt. 

“You back with me, Y/N?” he asked quietly, wanting to let you come back on your own terms, and without startling you. Quinn, despite everything, was still a big brother— the sibling who was pushed to always put the needs of others before his own, and who was always looking out for others before even listing what he needed. He was the most selfless person you had ever met, but also one who, too often, overlooked himself as well.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, your throat scratchy and raw. You rubbed your thumb on the collar of his shirt, entwining your fingers with his outstretched hand. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, you have to take a break, baby,” you heard him plead with you. As you looked up at him, you could practically see the desperation in his eyes— fogged over by the concern he had for your own well-being, which he could clearly tell had been deteriorating over the past few weeks. “I know this is a big project, baby, please believe that I do— but you can’t keep doing this to yourself; to us,” he said. You could feel the tremors in his hands from his pleading, and, looking at his eyes— the dark circles under them only made the pit in your chest cave more. You were hurting him— you were hurting the man you love, and it felt like you couldn’t stop— couldn’t fix it. 

“I’m sorry I’m hard to handle, Q, I didn’t mean to wake you up” you said, now sobbing directly into his chest. “I’m so, so sorry” you repeated into his chest, the sweater he had put on haphazardly now soaked through with your anxiety. 

“No, no sweet girl, look at me— please” Quinn said, looking down at you, and pulling you slightly away from his chest. “You didn’t wake me up, baby. I missed you, and I wanted to check on you. In no way is this your fault, you hear me?” he said, holding your chin between his middle finger and thumb, angling you to meet his eyes. 

He was entirely serious, too; he had missed you these past could weeks, and before he saw you mid-panic attack over your work, he was determined to simply drag you back— but at least now he could make you take a break; make you take care of yourself, and take care of you himself. 

“Sweet girl, you are my entire world, okay? No matter what you do, you will still always— and I mean always, Y/N— be the smartest person to me; but you need to let yourself take a break baby, please,” he pleaded. Seeing you like this— your eyes bloodshot from the tears and numerous sleepless nights, had him worrying about you, but despite that, you would always be perfect in his eyes— no matter if you failed or if you passed with flying colors, he would only be proud of you. 

“Y/N, you are my light, okay? I know I can’t always express it, but you need to understand how much you truly mean to me— I would be nothing without you, baby, but please— for my sake and for your own, please rest? We can go back to bed, and in the morning we’ll call in, both of us, okay? Please, baby, just let me hold you for longer than two hours,” he pleaded, trying to rope you into resting. 

You could only lay your head back on his shoulder; you nodded slowly, encompassed in the smell of his cologne, and breathed. You were alright; you were with Quinn, your rock— and even though you might not have felt it right now, you were going to be okay— you were going to take a break. 

In Quinn’s eyes, your image was unshakeable— something to behold, and something he would work for the rest of his life for you to see, too.

[cottonlemonade]

A Clumsy Couple Makes Out

word count: 746 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: University!AU Koganegawa x chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive fluff, touching™

warnings: mdni, strong suggestiveness, lightning-quick mentions of insecurities

At first you weren‘t quite sure if studying with Kanji was such a good idea. Having only recently confessed to you after a game, his proximity, especially if you two were alone, always kind of fried your brain which wasn‘t ideal when trying to retain knowledge. He was laying on your bed while you sat on the floor, back leaning against the frame. Whenever he sighed in frustration his breath brushed your neck, very rudely distracting you, but much to your surprise you got through your notes pretty quickly.

As you closed your eyes trying to memorize a certain date, you felt his lips on the back of your neck, letting goosebumps run all over your body. You drew in a sharp breath.

“It’s so nice to study with you… but also…”, another kiss on your shoulder and mumbling cutely against your skin he said, “you’re really pretty when you’re so focused.”

For a second you contemplated whether to pull him down onto the fluffy carpet or to climb up to him on the small bed, but he, now very eager apparently, was already slithering down to you. Pushing the notes out of harm’s way you pressed yourself closer to him. He supported your head when he carefully moved in, so that you lay back on the carpet with him on top. You never realized how incredibly comfortable this rug was until now. A truly excellent purchase. The soft music from the stereo directed the movements of your bodies.

Kanji really was an amazing kisser. Firm, but tender and his big hands were always where they needed to be. Whenever you found yourself in his arms, all your insecurities seemed to be brushed away by his hands, lips and words. Kanji made it very clear that he loved your tummy chub, your fleshy thighs and generous butt. Besides thinking that they were adorable and cuddly, it made him more confident in his advances, knowing he couldn’t hurt you so easily.

So for all his usual endearing clumsiness he changed completely as soon as his lips were on your skin. His hands now moved up to your breasts, first softly caressing them as if by accident, but when you didn’t object, he became more confident, deepening the kiss and finally cupping your breast. You gave a small gasp and arched into his touch. He smiled brightly into the kiss and squeezed again and again, finding great pleasure in your responses.

When you breathed his name, however, he got carried away. So carried away in fact that you jumped at a particularly harsh squeeze.

“Ow!”

He backed off immediately, sitting up with his back against a wall, trying to hide his obvious excitement with strategic hand placements.

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

You sat up as well, rubbing your stinging breast with a pained smile.

“A bit softer, please.”, you laughed and his cheeks turned as pink as never before. It was truly remarkable how he could flip the switch from playful lover to shy baby bean like that.

“I’m really sorry.”, he stammered again, looking down at the floor.

“It’s alright.”, you smiled and moved over to kneel in front of him, taking one of his large hands from his lap.

With a sweet smile you brought it to your breast again, closing your own much smaller hand around his to provide an example of an appropriate use of strength.

His lips parted, his eyes met yours and his breathing became very shallow.

“Just like so.”, you said innocently.

He leaned forward to catch your lips again, his kisses much hungrier now than before.

Your original plan was to casually straddle him like it was a normal Tuesday. Maybe run your fingers through his two-toned hair and then kiss him until your lips went numb.

What you did not plan on doing was kneeing him in the crotch.

He winced loudly and crumpled a bit forward.

“Oh no! Oh my god! Kanji, are you okay?! I am so so sorry!”

He dramatically fell over to the side, making a noise between grunt and a whine, which quickly turned into a hollow chuckle.

“I am so sorry.”, you repeated, patting his back, but you couldn’t help but join his laughter.

“Maybe we could watch a movie for now. Six feet apart on the couch.”, you suggested and he nodded, still grimacing a little, but agreeing to let you help him to the living room.

[mswritergirl02]

Holland Tunnel for a Nose

In which Harry accuses Y/N of playing with snow, but not the kind of snow that falls from the sky.

->Reader Advisory: The following writing contains mentions of intoxication and illegal substances. The content may not be suitable for all audiences, particularly those who are sensitive to such themes or are underage.

A/N: Make sure to follow me! I'm going to be posting everyday (:

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

Harry paced back and forth in the living room, his worry growing by the minute. It was way past 2 am and Y/N still hadn't come home. He’d called her many times, but all he got was her voicemail. At first, he tried to brush it off, thinking she was just hanging out with friends and lost track of time. But as the night dragged on and it hit 1 am, then 2 am, his concern skyrocketed.

She was supposed to be back by midnight, which seemed pretty fair, but now he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Now Harry didn't want to seem too controlling or jealous, but as time went on, those worries faded away. All he cared about was his Y/N's safety, and every unanswered call made his stomach turn.

With a creak, the door swung open, and Y/N stumbled into the room, her laughter ringing out loud and uncontrollable. Relief washed over Harry but was quickly replaced by concern as he took in Y/N’s intoxicated appearance.

Harry walked over to her, his heart leaping into his throat as he approached her side. "Y/N, where have you been? I've been worried sick!"

Y/N waved him off with a careless grin. "Relax, Haz, I'm fine. Just had a few drinks with friends."

Harry's brow furrowed as he caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath. "A few drinks? You reek of booze, love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, swaying slightly on her feet. "I'm perfectly fine, my phone died, and I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time? It’s past 2 am, love. I’ve been so worried.”

As they spoke, Harry didn't fail to noticed the subtle signs – the rapid movement of her eyes, the sniffing, and the nervous energy radiating off her in waves. His heart sank when he realized what they meant.

“Y/N, are you on something?"

Y/N giggled again, shaking her head. "No, silly! I'm just having fun."

Still not convinced Harry gently cupped her chin, his heart sinking as he saw the dilated pupils staring back at him.

“Y/N, what did you take, and don't lie to me," Harry's voice was firm, his grip on her chin gentle yet unyielding.

"I can see it in your eyes, your pupils are huge. What did you take?"

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath catching in her throat. Suddenly she felt a surge of anger rising within her, fueled by the combination of alcohol and the selected drug coursing through her veins.

“What did I take?” Y/N’s voice was sharp, laced with irritation as she pushed Harry’s hand away from her chin. “You think I’m some sort of junkie?”

“Could've fooled me.”

Rolling her eyes at his comment Y/N took a step back to avoid his gaze, but her balance faltered, causing her to stumble backward and collide with the closed door. A muffled thud filled the air as she struggled to regain her footing.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Harry’s voice carried a mix of concern and frustration as he rushed to her side, his hands reaching out to steady her.

Y/N brushed him off, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. I’m fine, Harry! Just leave me alone.”

Harry’s seafoam green eyes flickered nervously between Y/N’s warm chocolate brown ones and the black purse hanging off her shoulder. His heart raced with worry, but he knew he had to find out the truth. Without a word, Harry’s hand shot out and snatched Y/N’s purse from her shoulder, startling her.

Her eyes widened in panic, and she let out a string of curses. Her hands were now reaching out to grab her purse, but Harry turned his back to her, blocking Y/Ns path and holding the bag out of reach. Ignoring her, Harry’s fingers brushed against something small and plastic. He pulled out a mini plastic baggie, and his heart sank.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” he growled, gently pushing her back against the wall and holding the baggie of white powder in front of her face. With wide eyes, she reached out to grab it, but Harry was quicker.

“Are you fucking serious right now Y/N?”

“You took an Uber home, anything could have happened to you on that drive. Do you even care?” his voice trembling with anger, but she remained silent, her eyes on the baggie in his hands.

Her silence only fueled Harry’s rage further. “Oh, now you’re quiet, huh? Now that you’ve been caught red-handed?” he spat.

Y/N’s lips curled into a sneer, and she finally opened her mouth to snap back at him, her words laced with venom. “Mind your own damn business, Harry! You don’t get to tell me how to live my life!”

Harry wasn’t having it. She doesn't get to play the victim.

“No, Y/N, you don’t get to be mad. You fucked up, and now you’re going to listen to me,” he said firmly to which Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Maybe you should focus more on your music and actually writing a fucking song instead of sticking your nose in other people’s business”. In her mind, she hoped those words would make him back off and let her be.

Harry’s expression darkened, hurt flashing across his features. “That was a low blow, love, and you know it.”

“Well, maybe you should mind your own business for once! I don’t need you interrogating me like some kind of cop!”

Harry clenched his jaw tightly before marching to the kitchen, pouring the contents of the baggie down the sink, and running water over it, ensuring it was completely washed away.

and now Y/N was seeing red.

“Are you fucking serious? That was mine, you had no right!” She picked up her purse From the ground and hurled it at him with full force, but Harry ducked, and it missed him by an inch.

He stormed back to her, his face now towering over hers. “You’re crazy if you think you’re going to do drugs, and you’re even crazier if you think you’re going to be throwing shit at me love,” he said whilst tilting her head back and running his thumb over her bottom lip.

Y/N tried to push him away, but Harry grabbed her wrist.

“Sit on the couch, Y/N,” he said in a firm voice.

“F*ck you,” Y/N spat back, defiance in her tone.

“Don't make me ask you again. Sit on the f*cking couch, Y/N.”

Masterlist

[covetyou]

fools just wanna have fun

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x fat contortionist f!reader rating: Mature (18+ only!) warnings: no smut, Dieter's cock and balls, arguing as foreplay, references to past and hoped for sexual encounters (fingering, squirting, oral), clown!Dieter is a menace (but not explicitly clowny at all in this, for those with coulrophobia), drug use, reader is referred to as Sparkles and has a briefly mentioned latex allergy. word count: 1k summary: A quiet night is all he wanted. It's what he deserved after sweating his balls off out there in the ring all night. But, you have different plans - plans, he's certain, involve riding him until the sun comes up.

A/N: this is a follow on to for one night only (Frankie x Reader), but can be read totally independently of that fic. if you'd like more of this pairing, check out jester little bit more.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

when the workin' day is done, oh fools, they wanna have fun, oh fools just wanna have fun...

Bravo the Clown's balls were sweating. They had been all fucking day. It's simply what you get when you're in the asshole of Florida dressed head to toe in colored polyester.

But he was free now. Free for the night, free from another fucking show and, most importantly, his balls were free.

He'd just pulled them out actually, yanking his waistband below them, letting them bunch up under his flaccid cock as he rolled another joint. The one he had just before the last show didn't quite hit the spot, but this one was sure to do the job. Especially now that his balls were finally cooling down.

Not that the peace and quiet lasts too long. It never does.

Before he can so much as find a lighter to light the joint resting between his lips, you slam your way into his trailer with a bang.

"What the fuck?!" He shouts, flinging the nearest thing to him - which just so happened to be his fucking lighter - at you as you stand there panting.

"Don't you dare light that," you say, pointing to him as you catch your breath. "Condoms. I need condoms."

This isn't the first time you've stormed in here, demanding sex of him wearing nothing much at all. It is the first time you seem to have ran here though. You're never usually this desperate for it, but he supposes there has been a lot of tension between the two of you lately. Not exactly sexual tension, more extreme general frustration directed at him rather than anything particularly mutual. Still, it was there, he'd sensed it, and now here you were, demanding a fuck from your favourite clown, already looking positively fucked out -

Wait.

"What the fuck," he says again, pointing right back at you. "I am not giving you my condoms. What about me?! I know that look, you're not leaving me high and dry, Sparkles."

You're practically snarling at him now, and fuck does he love you like this. Feisty. Definitely wet too, even if it's not because of him. Don't ask him how he knows, but there's something about the way your sweat smells that changes when you're get horny that never fails to make him hard.

"What about you? You are not cock blocking me again, Bravo."

Dieter scoffs. You always brought this up. It wasn't exactly his fault you were fucking a civilian out in the open like that. He was well within his rights to walk over and take one of the blankets you had under your head that day. They didn't belong to you, they didn't belong to anyone. They were communal. "That was one time, and he was a nerd anyway."

"A nerd with a massive dick and button mashing fingers. He was about to make me squirt and you came stumbling over. And you're forgetting the girl with the nipple piercings!"

With each angry flap of your arms, he can see your panties as your t-shirt rides up on your thighs. They look wet and fuck if he isn't jealous of whichever asshole is getting a turn between your legs tonight. It should be him, with his condoms. It's not fair.

"That doesn't count," he answers, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a pout.

"It does!"

"If there was no cock involved, I didn't cock block shit."

His dick is at full mast now, and he's surprised you haven't noticed. If you have, you haven't said anything, and usually you were very good about shouting at him when he had his dick out.

Instead, you just sigh. You give in. To him.

"I don't have time for this shit. The condoms, Dieter. Please."

And, quite frankly, it's no fun fighting with you if you're not going to fight back. That doesn't mean he's going to put his dick away, of course. There's no point. He's only going to play with it when you leave.

What he does do is point you to his condom stash kept in a tin under his trailer bench. He didn't exactly use them often. He didn't like them. But he did use them with you, or if he was taking a little knock at someone's backdoor, or even if someone looked a little less sanitary than he'd like. He did have standards.

He also could've got them out for you. But if he did that he wouldn't have been treated with the view of your ass he's currently getting. You always wear the tiniest little thongs for shows. They're the only things that won't show up around the edges of your glitzy costumes. It gets him going just thinking about them wedged up your ass as he watches you perform some nights - an activity that has made him late to his own performances more than once.

Right now, that tiny little thong is nestled right between your ass cheeks, your t-shirt hiding none of your modesty now that you're bending over in front of him. The gusset of your panties peeks out from between your plush thighs too, and it is absolutely fucking drenched. If he knew you'd be amenable to it, he'd be on his knees eating you from the back already, but he knew you. Only the lucky asshole waiting for you would be getting that privilege tonight.

"Gold packet," Bravo grumbles as you rifle through the tin, picking out a small handful of condoms like you plan on having a very eventful night.

"I know what ones are latex free, Bravo."

Because that is why you came here, to him, and not to anyone else. He's probably the only person in this whole place that carried the condoms you could use - the latex free ones that didn't smell like balloons.

You finally stand just as Dieter idly wraps a hand around his balls, giving them a gentle little squeeze, and with nothing more than a middle finger and the poke of your tongue, you go to leave his trailer.

"Oh, and Dieter?" you say, stopping in your tracks halfway out the door. "Max was looking for you."

"Shit."

His wank would have to wait.

tagging previous lovers of clown!Dieter: @beefrobeefcal @sp00kymulderr @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @clawdee @chronically-ghosted @dieterbravobrainrotclub @for-a-longlongtime

[ajortga]

i'm not coming home.

pairing: vada cavell x fem reader

warning! sensitive topics ahead include: character death, suicide, overdose, massive angst with NO happy ending.

thank you egg for your request! cried a little making this which usually.. isn't quite normal to happen. hope this might make your angst heart pour a little.. p.s this was partially inspired by some other fics i read that i loved and this was particularly based off the lyrics im not coming home, not really my future:o

-

I just saw that song fic you made, it was very nice. So I’d like to request one of my own…

My future by Billie Eilish?

Obviously for my favorite girl Vada Cavell. Who else would I request for?

-

Her eyes looked at the moon, Vada’s brown eyes looking at the way the moon shone across the city.

“The moon is pretty, isn’t it?” A voice said beside her.

Vada's eyes glanced at you, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Yeah. But you were always prettier.”

“You used to say that a lot.”

“I know. It’s because I think it’s true.”

You stood there in silence, Vada scooted closer to you, pointing at the flowers right ahead of you guys.

“Do you remember when we planted those?”

“Yeah, they grew so pretty. We wanted to make a whole flower garden together.”

“The garden is growing I think.”

“I think so too.

Silence once again, the only sound was the dark trees rustling in the blue moonlight, stars above the two’s heads. Vada bit her lip, looking at the stars, her knees tucked under her arms.

“Do you think in another universe, we’d be in love?” You whispered, catching her off guard as she looked at you, seeing the way your eyes looked hurt.

Vada shrugged, thinking for a moment, “I don’t know..”

Another pause.

“Maybe in another universe, I never so badly wished it was this one though.”

She heard a small laugh, hurt laced behind it, “It once was.”

“In this universe we’re not. Because you’re no longer here.”

…

“I know.”

Vada wishes she could take those words back. 

-

Vada needed space to herself after trying to heal from traumatic experiences it was so hard for her to deal with. You were just trying to help.

You were just trying to help.

Offering to hold her hand in the hallways, reassuring back rubs, kisses on the forehead, sticking by her side.

It was too much for her. She just wanted to be left alone, but she didn’t want to tell you.

You just were so worried, you made sure to love her.

The day Vada was the most stressed, she took all her anger out on you for just trying to comfort her.

“Can you stop being arrogant for once and get it into your brain that you need to leave me alone? You have to let me go and it’s getting so frustrating you can’t get that into your system! Just give me my space when I need it!”

Vada’s voice echoes through the house, her eyes looked enraged as she saw the way your figure looked so small.

“Okay.”

That was the last word she heard you say before you left the apartment to just.. Process.

Vada felt bad, seeing the way your shoulders dropped as you walked out the door. But she was just so frustrated with all these events she couldn't bring herself to apologize. She was too tired.

-

Ding

...

Ding

....

Ding ding ding ding ding

"Oh my god.." Vada groaned tiredly, her phone light almost lighting up the whole room as she rubbed her eyes, stirring from bed.

Who the hell would be notifying her at 2:43 AM?

Her hands flipped her phone over as she looked at the messages, the way her eyes widened was indescribable.

my sweet y/n♡: vada they won't go away.

my sweet y/n♡: i'm so scared.

my sweet y/n♡: it won't stop, vada it won't stop.

my sweet y/n♡: i can't breathe

my sweet y/n♡: i just want it to stop.

my sweet y/n♡: baby please i need you. i don't feel good.

4x call missed

my sweet y/n♡: i'm sorry.

my sweet y/n♡: i love you.

my sweet y/n♡: i love you with my whole heart and i promise that you can finally be left alone like you wanted.

"No! No no no no no!.." She said louder to herself, immediately jumping off the bed and hitting the call button. No response.

"Please just pick up!"

She grabbed her keys and slammed the door shut, immediately going to your house with an inhaler and meds.

She kept ringing and ringing as she heard you pick up, immediately putting the phone to her ear.

"Baby! Baby.. Talk to me. Talk to me please."

"...Vada.." you cry, your voice barely a whisper, "It hurts."

"What did you do? Y/N.. Tell me please, what did you do? Did you take something bad?"

"I just.. I..."

Vada hears you breathing heavily, making small hurtful breaths.

"I just wanted everything to stop... I'm so tired.."

"I'm almost there baby.."

Vada makes a full on swerve as she busts out of her car, hearing the way your labored breaths were gradually beginning to grow shakier. The call ends as she makes a plead of frustration. She grabs the keys she snagged when she left the house and frantically unlocked your door.

"Y/N!" she cries, the house was dark as she turned every corner before rushing into your room, barging in.

There you were, curled up on the ground, your arm over your stomach as she saw the way your chest shook, the way you let out cries. There were pills scattered around you, your hand holding a pill bottle that was almost half empty. Vada screamed as she immediately knelt down as you turned.

"Baby, Y/N, wake up!" She cried, shaking you

You were barely able to make a noise, she could only hear you say her name, your voice barely an audible whisper with tear-stained cheeks and glazed over eyes.

Vada let out a painful cry as her hand reached up to caress your now cold skin. You were shaking as Vada picked you up and cradled you, calling the 3 numbers as quickly as she could, begging for the ambulance to come as quickly as they could.

"Everything is going to be okay. Don't close your eyes sweetheart. I promise you'll be okay.."

You curled your body into hers, your head drooping down as you look at her, your vision unfocused.

Oh how your eyes were the ones she loved so much, the ones she loved so much now looking like this. Lifeless, barely hanging on.

"I'm so sorry. Vada's so sorry baby. I should have never said those mean things to you. You mean the w-world to me. I love you so much," The guilt was stirring in her stomach, unlike anything she's seen before.

You whimper against her, "I-I d-don't feel good... I-I feel s-so c-cold.."

Vada sobbed as she wrapped a blanket around your shaking, fragile body, hugging you tightly.

"I'm here. Help is coming," she whispered, looking down at you, fallen tears beginning to drop on your clothes.

Your eyelids were half-open, Vada's voice was beginning to become muffled. You knew Vada was beyond worried, you just wanted everything to stop for a while.. You also knew deep down, you wouldn't be able to make it. You wouldn't be able to make it out alive. You wouldn't be able to spend the rest of your life and marry Vada. Maybe live in the green meadows like you always dreamed of, cuddling as you watched the stars at night. Maybe have had a cat too and looked like the romantic sweethearts everyone envied of, sharing small gentle kisses in the corners of every place you traveled.

You knew you couldn't be with her till her last breath, but you knew she would be with you till yours.

You knew you wouldn't be able to live your love, so you mustered all the left-over strength you still had and croaked out the 3 little words.

"I love you."

You felt it. Vada did too. The way your eyes glassed over, it was no longer the warm, pretty eyes she adored, they were now foggy and dark. The way your body began to lose it's warm comfort that Vada ever so loved feeling when she cuddled you to bed. It was all fading. And she knew your life was fading too.

Vada cried, she didn't want to loose you. She was sobbing and she couldn't do anything about it, she was so so scared.

"I love you too. I love you so fucking much Y/N. I.. I.." She didn't know what else to say, she was so scared that she couldn't speak anymore, wailing.

You gave her the weakest smile you could muster, though she knew that it wasn't the smile you gave her when your eyes would light up as soon as you saw her, it was the smile that you finally understood.

You understood. The cracking smile that showed you were ready.

"That's all my heart can ever ask for. I-I'll be there with you, as a pretty deer in the moonlight, or the shiniest star. I-I'll be there whenever y-you need me.. It was never your fault.." You whispered, before she could see your eyes go still, your shaking body beginning to slow. The last teardrop that would ever fall go down your cheek.

"No! Open your eyes Y/N! Baby! Please! I'm here! You can open your eyes now! Wake up!"

Vada didn't know love could make her cry this hard as she felt your skin turn cold, she wished she could just take it all back. She'd remember you through every memory. But she'd remember that the memories of the person she loved most would never exist in the future. It was all in the past. She knew that you were gone as she cried into the wind. The ambulance was just too late as they saw her hugging your soulless body, never wanting to let go.

"Vada's so sorry.." She cries in a whisper.

-

Vada felt herself sniffle, she could feel the way her memories invaded her brain. She could never forgive herself for it. On every shooting star she wished that it could've never happened in the first place.

She then noticed the way she felt her cheeks suddenly stain with tears, seeing your pretty body fade away in the moonlight above. Seeing the way that you bit down a hurtful expression, smiling with a cracked heart as she sniffled. The night sky is now beginning to reflect through you. 

It was all her fault. She couldn’t bear to hear it. But she knew now that you weren’t going to come home. You never would.

She knew one day you would fade from her mind completely. She couldn’t bear to know that one day, she’d forget the way you sounded.  She knew that one day, your ghost would eventually fade away, your faded presence beginning to slow as time healed. There would be a day that your ghost would stop showing up completely.

She knew that one day, all your memories would turn into months, years, decades.

Until it’ll all be too old for her to remember. To remember you and the way you were the first person Vada felt her stomach tingle with fluttering butterflies as you kissed her so gently. To remember the way you would hold your umbrella for her as it poured rain, seeing the way your forehead would drip with water from protecting her before you could shelter yourself.

"Keep our love special okay? Keep it just between us. Keep it in your heart." You whispered, before you faded away, knowing one day you'll appear once again.

Vada nodded, slowly, she still can't believe she isn't over it. How could she be?

Her hair was wet, she was so used to feeling a hood over her head. She was so used to being protected by you. Rain drenched her clothes as her body shook, staring at the way the city lights dimmed below her. 

She knew that you weren’t going to come home.

Because there she was, sitting on a wet patch of grass, drenched in the rain. Knowing that once before, you sat with her in the rain, holding an umbrella over her head as you hugged her, cuddling for warmth. 

Vada let out a shaky, broken sigh as she looked up, seeing the way the stars shone. One shone so bright as she smiled. Her star.

From the wind blowing so gently in her hair with rain showering across the city, the deer peeked behind the tree, making a soft noise.

"Every night and day I wish I could feel your cuddles, kiss me and tell me it was all a nightmare, but it's been too long to know it's not just stupid nightmare. I miss you more than words can possibly describe."

Vada rubbed her cheeks, wiping the tears that were falling, feeling the rain drizzle with her sadness, making a quiet cry.

"It's been 5 months Y/N. I love you. I wish you were here with me. "

Maybe you wouldn't be with Vada till her last breath, maybe her grieving wouldn't last that long. But she was there for yours, that's all you could ever ask for. Your girlfriend hugging you as you took your last breath. That was special.

[raymantogether]

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #3 - Clairiphi

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #3 - Clairiphi

Introduction:

Have you ever made your own Rayman comic book series? Growing up, I spent thousands of hours outside of playing the Rayman series creating comics and drawings, making my own adventures for Rayman and his friends. However, I never could create something as captivating and truly unique as the Rayman Nightmarish Series. Rayman Nightmarish stole my heart and is something that I have followed since 2020. Every few weeks to months, I eagerly anticipate the next chapter. There is something so personal about the art style and original characters, which I fell in love with. Every strip is full of personality and charm. I had the pleasure of meeting Clairiphi, AKA Chiara, during my visit to Ubisoft Milan. In person, Chiara is just as amazing as her series. So when I decided to make this Community Spotlight Series, I just had to make a segment on Chiara and her Rayman Nightmarish series.

1. Please introduce yourself.

"My name is Chiara; I go by Clairiphi on the web, and I'm a storyteller from Sardinia (Italy) who dabbles into drawing to accompany her stories. I hope one day, not too far from now, to become a professional comic writer if the comic industry in Europe gives me the chance. For now, I sadly remain an enthusiastic hobbyist."

2. What are you currently working on in the Rayman Community? 

"I’ve been publishing my fan comic Rayman Nightmarish for a few years with the frequent help of my partner Francesco (@thepinna on Instagram and Cara), who is a professional illustrator and studied as a comic artist as well. Without his teaching, I would be nowhere near where I am with my skill level. He taught me how to storyboard, how to efficiently use a drawing tablet, and helped me train my writing skills. He also offers his direct artistic input from time to time, when work hours permit him (for example, while I did the storyboards and pencil sketches for chapter 11, he did inks and colors)."

3. What is your inspiration behind Rayman Nightmarish?

"One December evening I was particularly bored and haven’t been writing since the beginning of high school, but that evening I was coming from a long period of frustration regarding the school path I chose, and coincidentally, I was also back on my Rayman obsession because I was playing Legends and Origins. I had this fairy character (Waaty) and a horrific, almost lovecraftian villain (The Lighteater) in mind for a while, and all of a sudden I said, “You know what? Let’s stop daydreaming and write an actual story!” I took a huge empty notebook from my desk drawer, and a bunch of years later, here we are!"

4. For any newcomers, what is the story of Rayman Nightmarish about?

"With Rayman Nightmarish, I aimed to narrate a classic Rayman adventure, with the humor, the combats, the voyage across fantastical places... And zombies! Yeah, I love horror, and of course there was going to be a twist. But no worries! This is still a story for all ages, like Rayman always was after all.  An ancient evil called The Lighteater is rising from the depths of the sea and is going to bring a dark plague that will soon turn The Glade of Dreams into The Glade of Nightmares. Of course it is Rayman's job to save the day once again, with the help of Globox and a few unexpected friends, like Waaty, the livid dead fairy with strange clairvoyant abilities...and many others along the way! Will he be able to do it this time? Very likely knowing his records, but this could actually be more challenging than he thought."

5. Is there anything new or unreleased you can share?

"I’ve actually been working on a new original fantasy series for a while. The story is already all planned, I'm in love with the characters and every process I came across during the planning of the plot. I hope with all my heart that I'll be able to bring it to life, not as a webcomic but as a fool-blown series for comic stores’ shelves."

6. What made you fall in love with the Rayman series?

"When I was a little girl, I didn’t have much social skills, and my first ever playmate, before my brother was born, was my dear cousin, who one day came to me with a copy of Rayman 3; his parents got him somewhere during a trip. That game changed my brain chemistry because as soon as I saw the fairy council level, I was hypnotized, and I wasn’t even the one playing! The music, the scenery, the jokes—I don’t know, but every time we played it, I came home wishing I was still in that world. Then a few years later, my cousin got a PS3 and gave me and my brother his PS2, Rayman Raving Rabbids, and Rayman 3. I was so happy! My first ever “comic” was a very cringy Rayman fanfiction I wrote in middle school, kind of an ancestor of Rayman Nightmarish in a way, haha! I thank my cousin every day for showing me that game that evening, and if he were still here today, I bet he would think Rayman Nightmarish looks pretty sick (especially in comparison to his middle school predecessor)."

7. What is your favorite Rayman game?

"I think it’s pretty clear by now that it’s Rayman 3 since it comes with so many dear memories, but I really liked playing both Origins and Legends in co-op with my brother when they came out. They were really fun to play with others! While I’ve always considered Rayman 3 like an intimate journey to take alone in a fantasy world, as silly as it sounds. Haha!"

8. Who is your favorite Rayman character?

"I’m going to be very unoriginal and say it’s Rayman because it’s true."

9. Tell us about your time at Ubisoft Milan.

"It was better than Disneyland! I felt like a kid again being able to hang out with a team of professionals behind a whole videogame. Not only was I happy, I felt seen, like, “Woah! These guys know I exist and even asked me to come here, hello???” Pretty surreal experience!"

10. Other than playing Rayman, what are your favorite things to do?

"I’m going to be completely honest; I haven’t been playing a Rayman game since the dawn of time. Haha! Back when I was a little girl, I wasn't much of a gamer and only played Rayman games because I didn’t care for the others. Now I love my switch, and I found many more games I love to spend time with. Rayman still has a special place in my heart, because it’s thanks to it that I found out I was actually meant for writing stories. Two of my other favorite things to do (besides writing and drawing, which are obvious) are reading books and watching movies, and in both cases, my favorite genre is horror. I also like to play fantasy TTRPG games like D&D or Pathfinder from time to time; they are very stimulating for the imagination."

11. Tell us something interesting or funny about yourself that we might not already know. 

"I’ve actually graduated (both bachelor’s and master’s degree) from a music conservatory in classical piano and never taken a single class in any art school. Sometimes I feel stupid about my past choices, and sometimes I’m glad because learning to play an instrument on a professional level has helped me build discipline and time management skills that helped me greatly in the writing process."

12. Do you have any hidden talents?

"I don’t know much about "talent,” but I do love to sing in my car, and I can memorize the entire script of a movie if I like it a lot. Haha! I remember when I was in elementary school, I used to recite Madagascar to myself when it was past bedtime, but I didn’t want to sleep."

13. What is one thing you can’t live without?

"Besides my air conditioner, I think I would go insane if something happened to any of my writing devices. I keep all my notes scattered between my computer, my iPad, and many physical journals. While clouds are essential, sometimes I just need an actual piece of paper and a pencil to figure out a scene or a plot point."

Want to discover more about the Rayman Nightmarish series? This is my link tree where new readers can find the best social media platforms to either catch up with the story or stay tuned for any exciting news:

[elswing]

in defense of elrond

it is ironic that elrond keeps accusing galadriel of being too blinded by pride while he's fallen equally victim to being blinded by his own frustrations. neither of them are being particularly rational about the situation because they're both hurt and feeling betrayed, and i think elrond's remark about how galadriel only sacrificed herself to save the ring instead of the company perfectly encapsulates that��because, yeah, that is a fair interpretation of it, but she did just tell him five seconds ago that she was only there to protect them, a fact that exists simultaneously with her possessiveness over nenya.

it isn't One Or The Other, just like both of their opinions on the rings, because in actuality they are both right about them. elrond has a limited perspective on it, but from his pov he is completely justified in hating the three feanorian crafted shiny magic jewels that everyone around them covets (🤨). all he knows is that sauron had a hand in making them and no one can possibly know how much influence he has over them because the true art of his craft is subtle. as in, you don't know it's happening to you until you're suddenly slapped with the consequences of it. it is equally fair of him to be suspicious of galadriel herself, because it is impossible to rely on whether she now believes herself to be free of his corruption when she never knew it was there to begin with. also, again, for emphasis—she knew sauron walked among them, she knew he'd helped make the rings, and she let it happen anyway. that doesn't exactly inspire trust, especially when it's the exact antithesis of the point she's trying to prove to elrond and she hasn't done anything to try and rectify that breach of friendship except offer an apology that does sound quite empty given she is still championing the rings.

on the other hand, galadriel is the one who spent time with sauron all this time. galadriel is the one who befriended him, and while even we as the viewers can't be sure which parts of halbrand were an act and which were genuine moments of connection, the main point is still clear: whether she wants it or not, they understand each other. even without their friendship, you can't spend thousands of years dedicating your life to hunting someone down without them becoming familiar to you in some way, and i think there is a specific manner of vulnerability that loss and grief gave her and it just tore her wide open for all sorts of habits and traits to take root. she became so devoted to her vengeance against sauron that the lines between identity and purpose began to blur.

i am not of the opinion that galadriel loves sauron (or vice versa, but that's a whole other post), as fascinating as their dynamic is to me. i do think that she is a passionate individual who was made for love and boldness, and losing everything she did was never going to mellow her out or slow her down. in her, vulnerability takes the form of rage, and it is there, in that twisted, not-quite-galadriel version of herself, that sauron was able to find a reflection.

there is no way elrond can possibly understand any of that, even despite suffering similar losses, because that's just not who he is. galadriel has the better intuition on sauron's manipulations, and she has a far better understanding of the depth of them, so of course her opinion should count here.

the issue is that they're both too raw and hurt that neither of them are willing to say "okay, so we BOTH have good points here. let's hear each other out instead of waiting for one of us to see reason and blindly agree with everything the other is saying"

i think it should also be noted that galadriel does end up being right about the rings' capabilities as a force for good, especially since the One to control them hasn't been forged yet. as unlikely as it might seem to elrond, her intuition isn't leading her astray here. we just haven't reached that point in the story yet (nor have we reached the point where galadriel begins to humble herself to the elves and seeks to redeem herself like morfydd mentioned, but i have a feeling they're getting into that now. after all, she did give nenya up to the guy who hurtled face-first off a cliff hoping to destroy them, so that's gotta count for something. baby steps!)

[therhythmafterthesummer]

How do you think Chris (pre getting together) would have comforted her on a bad mental health day or on a day where she’s sad?

I’m in my feels rn and am in need of some wolfie comfort immediately 😤😤😤

P.S - Love you, Rhythm! Hope you’re doing well always! 🩷

- N. 💄

sorry i held onto this one for so long! i just really wanted to write something for it. here's how i think that would go...

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. you don’t really need to read any other instalment to understand/enjoy this piece). | Word Count: ~2k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · roomies idiots to ??? · fluff · hurt/comfort · pre-relationship scenario

minors do not interact.

Fridays were supposed to be the days to unwind. They were supposed to be the day in which you could let loose and forget about work for the next forty-eight hours. At least, you figured they were supposed to be like that for most people.

This Friday particularly, though, had been absolute hell. The whole week had felt like you’d been impersonating Sisyphus and work had been your boulder. You supposed some weeks just… were like that. 

Tonight, all you wanted to do was sit in your room, in the dark–preferably in complete silence and just be nothing. If anyone else came to you and so much as muttered a word you were sure you’d break down and start weeping right then and there. 

Which was why, as soon as you found yourself in your flat, you went straight to your room. There was no energy left for showers or baths. All you did was take off your clothes and bury yourself under the covers.

You had a total of ten minutes of complete silence before the front door practically burst open and boisterous voices filled your home. It kick-started a twitch in your left eye, it had frustration tears pooling on your waterline, but you couldn’t just… ruin their fun. 

You supposed this was the downside of having a roommate. And not only was he a roommate, but he also happened to be the alpha of a pack of wolves, which meant that more often than not your friends and neighbours made themselves at home.

It was fine. That was fine. You loved your friends, you loved to hang out with them and joke and have little parties in your flat. You loved them all, you knew it very well. But, tonight, every little noise they made made you absolutely furious, which made you feel worse because, logically, you shouldn’t be feeling furious at something like this.

Dealing with these conflicting feelings was hard, so you tried your best to just… tune everything out. With your pillow over your head to muffle any sound as best as you could, you laid on your bed, fully naked, probably leaving mascara stains on your pillowcase, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to care.

You managed to mute all background noise… the downside was that you’d done so by replaying events of the week over and over again in your head. How you dropped your coffee mug in the middle of the lunch room on Tuesday, that very passive aggressive email one of your colleagues sent you, how you’d stumbled over your words in a meeting today… 

It felt like your heart was preparing itself for a marathon with how fast it was beating, but for the most part, you were trying to ignore it. You were trying to ignore everything.

At least, until you heard a knock on your door.

“You up, pretty girl?”

Your roommate’s voice was slightly muffled, but you heard him well. Any other day, you would’ve probably felt your mood immediately lift at the sound of his gentle voice and the pet name he often used to refer to you. But, today, you couldn’t even find it in you to answer.

Eventually, you heard him walking away, and it was honestly like a weight had been lifted off of your chest. 

Which, again, made you feel horrible.

You loved your friends, and your roommate was no exception. Although, you weren’t sure if it was fair to compare the feelings you had for your friends to the ones you had for him… 

Regardless, the fact that you felt relieved that you didn’t have to talk to him made you feel terrible. The rational part of your brain knew that this was all due to your exhaustion, but even that couldn’t push away the feeling that you were a horrible friend because you were annoyed by his presence.

Your phone vibrated next to your head, and you immediately sighed in response. 

You were tired and cranky… but you were also chronically nosy. So you picked up your phone and read the notification on the screen.

> Xtopher 🐺: hey pretty > were gonna watch an episode of that series Felix likes > feel free to join us if you want :]

You figured it was easy for your roommate, Chris, to know you were home. You’d left your shoes at the entrance, and, considering his supernatural senses, you were pretty sure he could always hear and smell whenever you were here.

You genuinely appreciated that Chris took the time to send you a text, it somehow reminded you that he wouldn’t just hate you all of the sudden because you didn’t respond to him when he knocked on your door–it probably wasn’t even the first time you’d done that, anyway.

Sleep wasn’t going to claim you anytime soon, and you were out of spoons for the day, but you’d be damned if you slept without removing your make-up. So you spent the next hour rummaging the metaphorical drawer that was your brain, just so you could hopefully find that last emergency spoon you knew would be buried under the events of the week.

By the time you’d found it, a while had passed since you’d heard your neighbours saying their goodbyes, and your roommate going in and out of the shower.

You had to do this now. If you didn’t stand up from this bed right now, you’d break your one and only self-care rule. You couldn’t let the mean part of your brain win, you just couldn’t… Your week had already been bad enough, you had to have at least one win.

So you stood up from your bed, threw on the first sleeping gown you found, and left your room. 

Cleaning your face was honestly a blur. You tried to do it as fast and efficiently as possible. While you did, you debated on whether or not you had enough energy to even eat tonight, but, ultimately, you really didn’t. You weren’t even hungry, just zero appetite. 

So you made it back into your room as soon as your face was clean so you could put moisturiser on your face–there was no energy left for any fancy skin care routines, so moisturiser it was. If you had to put on any extra products you’d start crying for real…

“Hey”.

“Jesus!” You whipped your head towards the door, with your hands still on your cheeks where they’d been rubbing in your moisturiser.

Chris stood at your door looking at you, wide-eyed, dressed in nothing but his lounging shorts. Any other day, the sight of his bare chest would’ve agitated the critters that had been living rent-free in your belly lately. 

As it was right now, you were starting to feel genuine distress in his presence. Which, once again, made you feel like a horrible friend. Distress wasn’t an emotion that you would’ve associated with Chris in normal circumstances, but you figured this week had gone backwards enough for it to be today.

You swallowed, and turned back to look at yourself in the mirror, focusing on finishing tonight’s pathetic excuse of a skin care routine.

“You alright?” Chris’ tone was… tentative. Almost like he knew you were, in fact, not alright. 

You lied anyway.

“M’fine…”

When you finished with your face, you walked right past Chris and into the bathroom to wash your hands. ‘Spread what’s left on your hands to moisturise them, too…’ you could hear your mother’s voice ringing in the back of your mind, but, honestly? If you had to deal with the feeling of cream on your hands for a second longer you’d commit crimes.

As you washed your hands, you felt Chris’ presence behind you, right outside the bathroom. 

“You sure?”

“Positive”, you were, clearly, not fine. But you didn’t want to continue this conversation further, if you did, you feared what might come out of your mouth.

“Y’know you can talk to me, ri–”

“Yes! Yes, I know. I know, Chris. I really do, but I don’t want to do that, you know? I don’t wanna talk, don’t wanna hear, don’t wanna really exist for what’s left of the day, okay?! Maybe it’s better if you mind your own business instead!”

God, you were the worst person on the planet… Here he was, worrying about you like he always did, offering comfort and support, and you weren’t even capable of keeping the annoyance out of your voice, you couldn’t even stop yourself from saying things you didn’t really mean. Why did you let it escalate so quickly? Another one for the tally of Stupid Things I Did This Week that you can sulk over later…

Chris stared at you for a moment, with his eyebrows high on his forehead, opening and closing his mouth for a bit.

A knot started to form in your throat, and no matter how hard you tried to swallow it and ignore its presence, you just… couldn’t.

“My God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you…” You sighed deeply, pressing your fingertips on your eye sockets. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I’m just so, so exhausted, and I just… I need some silence, okay? I appreciate you asking, but I really need to just… be quiet. I need you to know it’s not you, this is completely on me, but please would you just… not talk to me?”

You really felt like you wanted to cry, you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole… Especially because Chris wasn’t saying anything. Which was a very stupid reaction to have when you had just asked him to not talk to you.

When you removed your fingers from your face, you jolted on the spot at the sight in front of you. 

You knew Chris was a werewolf. Hell, you’d seen him in his wolf form numerous times already, but sometimes it was hard not to be startled by it.

Chris sat on the floor of the hall, right outside the bathroom, looking you right in the eyes while his tail swished from side to side on the tiles.

You wondered if he’d even fit through the doorway. He was so… big. So big, and so… so cute.

The logical reaction would’ve been to be at least a bit intimidated. He was pretty much at eye-level with you, he was stronger than you, he could very well hurt you with a snap of his jaw, but his eyes were just the same. Gentle, comforting… You were sure that if there’d been twenty more wolves next to him, you would’ve been able to tell him apart from the rest just by his eyes.

Chris whined, and he stomped on the floor with his paw to get your attention. You blinked at him for a bit, and only then did you notice you had actually started to tear up.

Chris whined again, and then huffed. That seemed to be enough to snap you out of it. You could feel your lower lip wobble, but you still walked closer to him, leaving the bathroom to stand in the hall with him.

As soon as you were out of the bathroom he stood on his four legs, and walked further into your space to nudge your hand with his nose. It was odd, really, but looking at him like this seemed to ease some of that squeezing sensation in your chest.

The realisation that he wouldn’t be able to talk to you while in his wolf form was steadily helping you calm down, or, maybe… It was more so the fact that he was trying to respect your wishes, while also not leaving you completely on your own. 

“M’sorry…” You apologised again, because you truly were sorry.

There was a small part of you that always worried that days like these would make him suddenly realise you were the worst roommate on the planet, that maybe you were a horrible friend. But, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t hold it against you. That was just the type of man Chris was.

With a minute shake of your head, you placed a hand under his jaw to support his head, and the other on top so you could scratch him behind the ears. Just because you could.

Even if Chris wouldn’t outright admit it to you, you knew he liked it. His wagging tail was more than proof of that.

“Are you my emotional support animal now?” You mumbled, tears were still running down your cheeks, but only sporadically now.

Chris just huffed, and if you looked hard enough, you could’ve sworn there was amusement in his eyes.

He removed himself from your space and turned in circles a couple of times before he was gently taking your wrist in his mouth. You could feel his teeth barely poke your skin, but you could tell he was being very careful.

He pulled a bit. You figured it was his way of telling you to follow him, so you started to walk. Only then did Chris let go of your wrist to start making his way down the hall.

Wiping the tears on your face–ignoring both the discarded lounge shorts by the bathroom door and the fact that you most definitely ruined tonight’s minimal skin care with your tears–you followed Chris to the living room.

As soon as he was in front of the sofa, he nudged the coffee table away with his head, and grabbed one of the blankets you left in a basket nearby to throw it on the floor. He spun on the spot a couple of times, before he plopped down and started pawing at the floor, looking right at you.

You wanted to cry again, but this time, it wasn’t because you were overwhelmed or frustrated. It was just the fact that Chris was… offering comfort cuddles. In his wolf form… in a form that’d make it so he not only wouldn’t talk, but would just be essentially a heated pile of fluff.

And you really, really appreciated it. Mostly because it made you feel like less of a failure, like you weren’t such a horrible friend after all.

Ignoring the fluttering in your heart, you made your way to where he was, took another blanket from the basket, and laid down.

With your head leaning on him, feeling him breathing steadily under you, you simply stared at the ceiling. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that you were laying on the floor, or just his warmth, but after a while, you started to calm down.

Your eyelids felt heavy, you could barely hear anything that wasn’t Chris’ quiet huffs. Eventually, he moved. You lowered your head to the floor for a moment while he took a cushion from the sofa and dropped it next to you, which you took as a sign to use it as a pillow.

Once you were comfortably laying down again with your cushion and your blanket, he simply curled around your body, keeping you warm.

You felt your heart swell, maybe even beat a bit faster against your ribcage, and as you cuddled closer to the big lump of fluff that was your roommate, you couldn’t help but mumble a quiet ‘Thank you…’ right before you fell asleep.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

tagging everyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know ! If you want to be added to the tag list, you can fill in this form. be aware that you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

@comet-falls · @princelingperfect · @notastraykid · @iadorethemskz · @kileidoscope · @maknae00 · @dundullresident · @vitrealisbunny · @yeetfellx · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @oiminho · @binchangf · @leedunno · @luxsonny · @mamieishere · @straylightdream · @bintificreads · @seo--changbin · @abcdefgiwsmcty · @ppiri-bahng · @letsbangchanblog · @fun-fanfics · @armystay89 · @iightsung · @cutiespaghetti · @noellllslut · @100layersofdaddyissues · @toplinehyunjin · @tartshearts · @biribarabiribbaem · @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad · @stayconnecteed · @floatingcoffecup · @5starlee · @ven-fic-recs · @poutypoutybin · @iloveksmohsomuch · @straydhampir · @svintsandghosts · @kim-hao-han

[bcyhoods]

🎤 VOCALIST ── send in a character + any prompts in this cool tag or a lyric prompt of your choice for a blurb (remember to tell me which list the prompt is from!)

dreamy (from different types of kisses) + angel baby steve <3

— ivy / @inkluvs

i am realizing now how difficult kisses are to write smoothly lolz. hopefully this is okay <333 | 1.3k gn!reader

“You know, I don’t think you’re actually supposed to aim for my toes when we do this.”

Your head falls to his chest in resignation, a groan of equal sentiment dying out in the cotton of his shirt. Even though his subsequent laughter is genial and bright, your face still burns against him. You’re sure if you stayed there any longer that the searing heat of your cheek would leave a discolored patch on the garment.

“You are such a jerk, I’m trying my best!” You argue, pulling back with your eyes squeezed shut and nose facing the wall to avoid his gaze.

He watches with a wide grin as your expression twists in embarrassment. And though he can clearly see that your eyes are closed, he still ducks and tilts his head to make sure they’re level with his own. His stare is stuck on your eyelids, frantically darting between the two to see if you’ll give him the pleasure of opening them any time soon. He laughs again when he sees your timid smile before you pull your chin to your chest.

“How am I the jerk? I’m the one with a broken foot, here.”

As dramatic as he is, the words carry no real annoyance. He’s fine; his foot is intact and he’ll most certainly live. Still, your palm grows sweaty where it’s clasped with his.

It was a silly idea that he’d proposed. Well, enforced to be more accurate. An off-handed comment — a little muddled by a handful of popcorn in your mouth — about having two left feet made him spring up from the couch and offer his hand. He was absolutely determined to help you practice slow dancing, hyping up his adequate sense of rhythm and decent coordination.

And he’d looked so eager, with fluffy hair and old clothes for pajamas, smiling down at you with a fondness that made it impossible to refuse. You take up his offer with little hesitation, figuring it would be easy enough. Plus, it might be worth it to be this close to him for a while, and he’s thanking you for it in his head.

But a couple of scratchy, romantic records later, and all you have to show for it is an imprint of Steve’s big toe on the sole of your sock-clad foot.

While he’s red in the face from laughter and joy, frustration is pulling the corners of your lips into a frown. Because what should be a romantic scene is a little more difficult for you than you want it to be and you might be getting in your own head about it. Admittedly, you’re taking it a bit more seriously than he is.

“I promise I’m trying,” you mutter under your breath, barely audible as you stare down at your feet to make sure you don’t step on him again.

His brows crease in concern at the change in your demeanor. “I know,” he answers softly. When you don’t look up at him, his arm tightens around your waist to pull you against his frame. A reassuring squeeze is sent to your hand before he’s toying with the promise ring on your fourth finger, smiling as he recalls the matching one on his own. He finishes with a deeper cadence, still just as gently, “I know. I was just messing with you.”

There’s a beat of silence between you before he sighs and halts your swaying completely. He smooths his hand up your back, leaving a line of fire across your spine with his blunt nails until they end up at the nape of your neck. Meanwhile, the hand that’s wrapped in yours is guided to his torso, prompting you to hold onto him there instead. All for the greater purpose of cradling your face in his hands.

He knows you too well. A promise of love shines in his eyes as they catch the subtle annoyance hidden in the creases of your face. The softness of his smile, his touch, is a manifestation of that promise and it has you taking a particularly hefty breath to calm the chaos in your chest.

“Hey, you’re doing fine. Promise. Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours.” He looks you in the eye the entire time, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks to emphasize his final point. And maybe being this close to him was a bad idea because you’re afraid your knees are going to buckle at his attentiveness.

And the fear becomes even more prominent when you spot his eyes dip down to your lips just for a split second before returning. You can feel your heart jump into your throat and the gooey smile being pushed onto your face before you can restrain it. He mimics the same expression, as if it’d be any help to your current state. You’re so out of it, you barely hear him ask, “Wanna keep trying?”

“You make me nervous.”

He blinks. “Me? Why do I make you nervous?”

“Dunno!…’Cause you’re, like…you’re looking at me like that,” you try to explain. It comes out in between nervous laughter, pushed out through teeth glued together in a smile only he can seem to cause. And he decides to take full advantage of it.

“Hmm. Like what?”

His brow raises suggestively before inching closer to you. His mouth just hovers over yours, tauntingly tickling your skin with a smug grin. You swallow down your nerves, nudging his nose with the tip of your own.

“Like…”

You push closer, puckering your lips against his in a kiss that’s barely there. Tenderness seeps through his fingers as they cup your jaw, and scratch the nape of your neck to elicit a sigh from you. His breath hitches at the sound and he’s pushing into the kiss out of poorly constrained excitement. His lips drag slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you and committing it to memory. He all but whines when you’re finally pulling away for air, resting your forehead on his.

His lips are slick and kiss-bitten, face flushed and ears bright red. His chest is heaving and his eyes are closed in bliss. He looks wrecked and you’re not doubting that you look the same, but looking at him like this makes your stomach flutter.

You giggle, this time a more deliberate sound. “You’re distracting me.”

He huffs in disbelief and pulls back to look at you. You can feel his hands grow warmer in your skin with each passing second, the blush on his face deepening. “You’re distracting me! I’m supposed to be teaching you.”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job,” you wince playfully, nudging his wounded foot.

As if it were possible, his smile widens and an airy laugh reverberates in his chest. “Yeah, cuz you’re looking at me like that.”

He dives in to capture your lips once more and hums at the contact. It’s notably more difficult this time around, your smiles getting in the way as your teeth clumsily scratch against each other. But it doesn’t stop either of you from pressing on, lips locking and clicking with every ebb and it makes your fingers twist into his tee. He pulls back with his lips comically puckered and placing them on your forehead for one final kiss.

“You're fine. You’re gonna get it, hmm?” He looks at you expectantly and you just about melt in his arms. It’s a silly thing, sure, but he sounds so sure, so confident in you. And his brown eyes are wide and teeming with ardor. You nod, a huge grin on your face.

“Let’s just hope you’re not in a cast by then.”

[the-orion-scribe]

A nitpick on The Book of Bill

Disclaimer: I am speaking this as a dipcifica fan and of course a fan of Pacifica.

This is certainly unpopular, but is something I've seen overlooked by the fandom. Yeah, there are a few other unpopular takes people didn't like about the book (like someone trying to pick a bone with Hirsch about Mabel not reminding Dipper his fly was down throughout Weirdmaggedon, or Billford). So here's one major critique I have with The Book of Bill (and its website), and that is how it prioritized a certain side character over a supposed main character. Yep, I'm going to talk about how Wendy is sidelined again in favour of Pacifica.

The first instance I must raise is when Bill reveals everyone's recurring nightmares: Not only was Pacifica’s nightmare more layered and interesting, but Wendy’s offered basically nothing. Are those happy dreams or sad ones with her Mom, or is she mulling over her disappearance? And this speculation about her Mom isn't new either, having been teased before in a Lost Legends code. Half of it also seems to be a joke at Dipper’s expense. She doesn’t even get her one dream reveal to be fully about herself.

Already on Thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com, you can uncover that full backstory of Paz's encounter with Bill (type PlatinumPAZ). But beyond a few other tidbits of Wendy (like her defeating Stan in an arm wrestle once), there's no fully fleshed out story about her. How would she even stand against Bill? We don't even know.

Heck, even in the letters to us by them ("Pacifica" and "Wendy" respectively), Pacifica's is much more substantial than Wendy's, which is just basically a short joke message without substance. Of course, it could be Wendy being lazy and all, but no other code (so far) that's devoted to Wendy's? Such a shame.

This isn't a problem for The Book of Bill, but in supplementary material as of late. Like Lost Legends itself devoted itself to an entire story on Pacifica for dipcifica fans, though it mainly rethreads a conflict of Pacifica struggling with her parents' expectations. It just seems to tell us that Hirsch doesn't have solid ideas for Wendy. We are just given some vague speculations and little moments with other characters, but nothing about her character growth and development. Again, it seems Hirsch is afraid to break her ice and make her unlikeable.

(The only instance of that ice breaking. From Society of The Blind Eye)

It's not that Pacifica doesn't deserve any screentime at all. I love Pacifica and I'm not complaining about the additional material focussed on her; they are great and expanded quite a lot of her. The problem is that there's not as much thought and spotlight given to Wendy who is a supposed main character featured in the intro. The supplementary material could have been great opportunities to explore her character (like Ford and Fiddleford in J3, and even Bill himself in The Book of Bill). It's just strange how even in a book on Bill, we still have more on Pacifica (along with the rest of the Pines). Why not two more pages on Wendy herself and how she views the world, her family and friends?

In the show itself, Wendy already suffered with most of her plots revolving around her being Dipper's crush. And before you say Wendy's character was already perfect and she doesn't need any growth, even Soos, the "world's most perfect man", have his episodes centred on his Dad and struggles with romance. And Robbie even has an episode himself, admittedly a little dubious and wonky. So there's no excuse for Wendy to be sidelined again. Heck, we have at least three scrapped episode ideas on Wendy.

(The On the Road episode could have been a better replacement for Roadside Attraction, but ah well)

Truthfully the honest answer for Pacifica having more focus is the more potential angst material around her, particularly her family's more direct connection to Bill. Plus, ofc, how popular Pacifica is in the fandom and the shipping potential. But it's just frustrating (and I'm speaking this, again as a dipcifica shipper) how Wendy was sidelined again, beyond giving the barest acknowledgment that she and Soos are part of the Pines family.

(A nice, complete photo of the Pines + Soos and Wendy, by Joe Pitt)

I love Pacifica. I really do. But this focus on Pacifica should not be squandered at the expense of Wendy's development. It just gives people an impression that Pacifica is an important character, perhaps more than Wendy, yet as we know in Weirdmageddon, she ended up not playing much of a part at all. Even Robbie contributed more by having a spray can for the Zodiac. There's another essay I have in mind that would discuss Pacifica's elevated narrative role and character arc that doesn't really fit the show's narrative, but that's a full essay for another time. (You can now check it here)

If Hirsch is somehow reading this, I urge him not to hold his cards on Wendy too close to his chest. We have already glimpsed the unlikeable side of her before (like gaslighting Mabel in Boss Mabel to get more time off). Why worry that fans' opinion would turn against her? Break that ice and make her whole again.

Thanks to MilkyBoyBlue, a fellow writing friend, for sharing some of his thoughts, which I agree pretty much as I read the book myself.