#I can’t draw so I hope you don’t mind me answering asks!

[asleepyy]

firstly, your art is gorgeous as hell and i eat it up everyday to reread some of the comics. the style? dedication? the LOVE?? simply too ineffable to be described into words.

a more personal (rhetoric, somewhat) question, out of just a huge amount of curiosity with how, outside of GO, i find the way you frame/design/write scenes to be so very in-love: have you ever been in love? it's a simple little spark, a tint of blush and a nudge of the lips, but GOSH you incapsulate the way your normal/oopsie az looks at crowley and the other way around SO VERY REALISTICALLY!! ANYWAYS ITS BEAUTIFUL CHEF'S KISS, HAVE REST, TAKE CARE, AND ENJOY THE HOLIDAYS 🔥🔥

(ahm i do not draw at all, so pls take my lil sketch of az with low life-expectancy)

UGH WHAT A BRILLIANT SKETCH HE LOOKS SO CUTE!!

I feel like this is the highest form of compliment I’ll ever receive, that my stuff feels ‘realistically in-love’, like I think I might’ve hit my peak! Thank you very much for such kind words!! For me, I love my friends and family, and I love good omens and I love its fanbase! But I don’t really need these loves to draw or write how Jophiel/Crowley and Azazel/Aziraphale love each other, because to me they just make it so painfully obvious themselves that it’s very easy to build upon.

Thank you for the lovely asks!

[luveline]

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe. 

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent. 

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks. 

“Hotch?” you ask. 

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?” 

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.” 

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.” 

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands. 

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it. 

“What happened?” 

“They were kissing.” 

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?” 

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…” 

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose? 

“They were too close,” you say more firmly. 

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.” 

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon. 

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?” 

“You think I’m overreacting.” 

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.” 

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?” 

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open. 

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.” 

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask. 

“Angel?” 

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.” 

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence. 

“I didn’t really look.” 

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” 

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.  

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says. 

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?” 

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm. 

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble. 

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy. 

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him. 

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks. 

“When can’t you?” Spencer asks sincerely. 

Footsteps. A door opening. 

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?” 

“Can you hug me?” 

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.” 

“I am?” 

“Just a little…” 

You try your best to stand completely still. 

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.” 

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better. 

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.” 

“Can I explain it to you later?” 

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says. 

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: The rain ruining his plans might have been the best possible luck.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“It’s raining.” You point out, face nearly pressing on the window as you stare outside. It was going to happen sooner or later, the dark clouds had been adorning the sky the entire day, yet the day went dry.

“Raining?” Zayne sounds surprised, as if he hadn’t been staring at the same dark sky a couple of hours earlier. He stands up, walking over to look out the window as if he didn’t trust your word. You swear you hear him sigh when he confirms that it’s indeed raining.

“Is everything okay? Is our date still on?” You look at him, worried about his reaction. He wants to say that the rain will be over in ten minutes and the plans are still on… But it doesn’t look like it’ll stop any time soon. 

“The rain is going to make things more… Difficult.” Zayne answers, not wanting to give up on the date idea just yet. There is no hope though, you can’t go stargazing when it’s storming out. You stare at him, trying to study the look on his face– A task that’s difficult since the man does a great job at suppressing any trace of emotion. “Maybe we have to change a couple of things.”

From now on he will leave the dates to you and only you, because the one time he plans something it’s ruined before it even begins. It’s what he gets for trying to be romantic, there’s a reason you’re the one that usually takes on the role. 

“Like?” You ask, and he isn’t sure how to answer. He already had everything planned out, and he put his all to the specific date so now his brain is empty. The lack of answer makes you chuckle. “So we’re staying in?”

“Unless I get a reservation in time.” Zayne reaches for his phone to look up restaurants nearby, trying to salvage the night but you snatch the device from his hands. He raises his brows, wondering what you have in mind.

“Let’s stay in. We can cook something, play a couple of games… Other stuff.” You respond, and Zayne fights back a smile. It’s great to have someone pick up his slack. “I found this new recipe that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Tell me what you need, and I’m on it.” He says, and you can’t help but smile. He’s willing to do anything when you have his attention. 

“I think we have everything, I just need you to chop up some stuff.” You tell him, and he nods in response. He’s not a great cook since he barely has the time or energy to make his own meals, but at the very least he’s great at chopping up stuff. “You can be my sous chef.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a subtle smile on his lips, and it overflows your heart with joy when you notice it. You wonder why he smiles but it’s never unwelcome. Especially from him.

You kiss his cheek before telling him, “Let’s get to work.”

After nearly burning the house down trying the new recipe, you surprisingly end up with a delicious meal on your table. You’re enjoying your meal, too busy stuffing your face to keep up a proper conversation. You don’t need to talk either way, each other’s presence is enough to satisfy any need for interaction. Though Zayne can’t help but comment,

“Surprisingly it doesn’t taste burnt.” Which makes you roll your eyes. He can’t help but bring it up when you told him a million times that you had it under wraps. 

“I told you I had it handled.” You respond. “Or do you not have faith in me, Dr. Zayne?”

“Dr. Zayne?” He raises a brow, and you hum in response. He lets out a low laugh before answering, “I do have faith in you… But I am allowed to draw some conclusions when I see a flame coming from the pan.”

“That wasn’t a flame.” You argue, and he slightly shakes his head.

“Then why did the fire alarm go off?” He points out, and you puff out a breath. You cross your arms, your appetite gone because your boyfriend won’t allow you to have the last word. He never does, and it might be his only defect. He couldn’t be perfect. 

“Next time I’m leaving the cooking to you then.” You pout. He doesn’t want you to feel bad for the light fire, it could happen to anyone plus you were cooking a new recipe.

“You’re a far better cook than I am.” He responds, hoping that it’ll make you feel better. He’s staring at you, trying to decipher what you feel based on the expression on your face. You only stick out your bottom lip, clearly not happy with what he’s said.

What did he say wrong? He said all the right words, you should be gleaming not… Looking disappointed.

“Only because you don’t have time to pick up the skill, if you did then you would be saying something far much different.” You end up telling him, and he takes a moment to look at your face. He’s not sure how to answer. He ends up by telling the truth,

“Probably.” And the moment the word leaves his lips, he realizes he couldn’t have picked a worse answer. You look absolutely mortified, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Probably? You’re not supposed to say that.” You say, and he gives you a subtle nod. He’s not supposed to tell you the truth then.

“What am I supposed to say then?” He sounds ever so serious, and one swift look at his face makes you think that he is, indeed, serious. 

“No, I doubt it. You’re the best cook ever, dear.” You end up answering, almost laughing at your own response. You see a twinge of a smirk on his face, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something. He lets himself loose around you, and often laughs at any stupid joke that you make, but it still feels rare when you actually see him smile.

“Alright then, so not the truth. Simple.” He answers, and the smirk that comes to his lips doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually does. You puff out a breath and he says, “Repeat the statement.”

“No.” Your answer is firm, therefore he won’t bug you to do it. He’ll drop the subject. 

You two continue eating, and for once he’s the one that makes most of the conversation. He should apologize, he should’ve chosen better words. 

“If it makes you feel better, the one time I plan a date… It starts to rain.” Zayne hopes that by admitting his own failures, he’ll make you feel better. You can’t help but chuckle.

“That doesn’t mean that you suck, it just means that the weather isn’t on your side.” You reassure him, face turning to look out the window. The rain still falls, much harder than before. “Plus I’m enjoying the date. Well, I was before you–”

“In my defense, I was initially complimenting the dish.” He argues, and you can’t help but laugh. A petty argument from a compliment. Though you’d argue that it was backhanded, Zayne isn’t all that great with words– Unless it’s with him coming up with a witty comeback, or of course, explaining medical terminology.

“How about you start cleaning up while I look for a game we can play?” You change the topic as you finish up your meal. Zayne immediately nods, more than willing to fulfill the task that you’ve assigned. He begins to clear the table, and you stand up to look for the games that are hidden away. Games that you’ve gotten to play with him but you’ve never had the time to actually sit down together and figure out.

You look for something that’ll make the night more fun, and also something that you have yet to play… But you still land on an old game. Something that gets both of you competitive. You end up pulling an old game that you’ve played a dozen times with him. A game that makes you want to break up with him, but when you make up it’s a memorable night.

You set up the table with the game, and wait for Zayne to finish up in the kitchen. You’d offer to help if he was doing any other task, but you aren’t going out of your way to clean up, even if it is to help your amazing boyfriend. Maybe you can take a peek at the cards as you wait for him to come back to the table.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Zayne walks back to the table, grabbing the cards that you definitely didn’t take a quick look at, and shuffling them. “Who’s going first?”

“I am. I don’t trust you while playing kitty cards.” You respond, and he hands out two cards. You frown as you look at them, knowing that you’re starting off on a bad foot. Your assist cards can help you make a comeback, so you’re only praying you get lucky with that.

“I should be the one saying that, I saw you look at the cards.” He lets out a low laugh as he gives himself three cards. He takes a seat across from you before commenting, “Given by the look on your face, you didn’t get all that lucky.”

“I’m going to win. Mark my words.”

Though you’re as competitive as you can be, luck simply isn’t on your side. Zayne doesn’t help your case, using every card that he has, against your favor. You glare at him with every move he takes, and he smirks, proud of his every move.

“Can you leave me alone? I barely have any points, there’s no point for you to null my card.” You complain, and Zayne shakes his head. 

“I have to take every possible precaution.” He answers, putting down a card that takes away your turn– And if that isn’t horrible enough, he takes away one of the kitty cards that you’ve put down. “Last time you won, I heard about it for weeks.”

“Last time I lost, you also heard about it for weeks. Matter of fact, we almost broke up.” You point out, and you watch as the corner of his lips turn. He’s trying his best to fight back a smile, and you have to roll your eyes. “And if you keep up with your act, we might actually break up.”

“It’s just a game of kitty cards.” Zayne says, which makes you glare at him. You cross your arms, a scoff leaving your lips. Just a game of kitty cards? The game becomes a very serious matter when you’re as competitive as you are.

“If you don’t take it seriously, then you should let me win.” You claim, and Zayne knows that unless he stops playing, your date will completely go sour. He just fixed matters after his unnecessary comment, he can’t let himself nearly ruin the date once again. He could try to let you win, but at this point there’s no way you can make a comeback. Plus, it’s not satisfactory for him.

“How about we stop.” He suggests, and you know you can’t win.

“Fine.” You answer, a hint of attitude in your voice just so he notes that you’re not happy with him.  

“What were we going to do today?” You ask him, beginning to clear the table. The sight of the unfair game is keeping you mad, so it’s best to clean up. Zayne joins you.

“Stargazing.” He responds, which perks up your eyebrows. Where exactly? “It’s a place not too far from here that gives a perfect view of the city, and I thought it’d be a nice date. I bought a couple of snacks to have a late picnic, but the universe isn’t on my side.”

“That is such a cute date!” You comment, eyes looking out the window to see that the rain has calmed down. “We can still do it.”

Zayne looks in the same direction. It’s not what he pictured, but it’s not a bad idea.

“Just for a minute.” He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours before he guides you outside. Your anger is long forgotten when you feel his large hand lightly squeezing your own. There’s still some light rain when you exit the place, but you aren’t staying outside for too long so it’s not an issue.

“Look, there’s a full moon.” You immediately point to the sky. The clouds had been hiding the moon all night, and now you finally get a chance to glance at it. “Just look at it, it’s so beautiful.”

“It really is beautiful.” He answers, though his eyes aren’t looking at the moon. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, as he finally looks up at the sky. Stargazing is a dumb date if you aren’t going to the countryside. In a way, he’s glad his plans were ruined. 

You look back at Zayne, a foolish smile coming to your lips. Stargazing would’ve been nice, even if you don’t get a great sight, laying next to him for a whole night is the type of date that you need. You don’t even need to talk, each other’s presence is more than enough for you to be satisfied.

“Why are you smiling?” He finally looks back at you. It’s not a complaint, he’s overjoyed to find you smiling. He just wonders what’s going on in your mind. Two fingers come up to his face, brushing away the hair that’s on his forehead before you get on your tip-toes to press a kiss on it.

“You are so cute.” You tell him, and he chuckles. Out of all words that you could’ve picked, cute is the one that he least expected.

“Cute?” He responds, and you hum in response. Nevertheless, it’s a compliment so he’ll accept it. He smiles back at you, gaze getting lost into your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, maybe that’s the reason he’s so desperately in love with you. “Cute. I’ll take it.”

“Let’s go inside before you get sick.” There’s a mischievous smile on your lips as you say the words. He’s the one that usually says the phrase, but the tables have turned. Zayne lets go of your hand, hands falling on your waist before pulling you closer.

“Let’s enjoy the moment a little longer, I don’t mind getting sick.” His nose brushes against yours, his eyes looking into yours ever so lovingly. His supple lips land on yours, pulling away within seconds. “It’s barely even raining.”

“Just a minute then.” You tell him, and he nods in response. However, Zayne doesn’t care to look at the sky. Apart from the full moon, there’s nothing that’s worth noting.

He loves the feeling of the rain on his skin, every droplet is a subtle reminder that this is real. He’s living in the moment. What’s happening right now is not a fragment of his imagination. The way you look at him, the way you laugh, the way your hands wrap behind his neck– It’s all real.

“Okay, we should go now. I don’t want you to get sick… And I also don’t want to get sick.” You say, and he smiles. He lets go of you, allowing you to go inside without an issue. You’re not going inside without him though. You grab Zayne’s hand and drag him inside, knowing that if he gets sick, you’ll end up getting sick as well.

“I’m going to get changed.” You tell him, and he mindlessly follows. He’s seen you naked many times, there’s no need to be shy… Except he is the one that gets shy at the mere thought of seeing you naked. He’s already flustered at the idea of you getting changed; but he still follows.

“What do you want to do now? Watch a movie?” You ask him, getting to the room. There’s a sudden increase in temperature– Or is it just Zayne? Why does he feel hot?

“A movie… Sounds fun.” He swallows thickly, watching as you begin to lift up your shirt. His cheeks turn pink at the sight of some skin, but you never take off your shirt. You notice he’s staring, and you fight back on smirking. 

“Do you have something else in mind?” You watch him step towards you, ever so slowly. He’s hesitating. Should he? He doesn’t want to turn the sweet night into something… More. But he does.

He wants to feel every inch of you, and frankly, the shirt that you have on outlines everything which doesn’t really help. Maybe he’s a pervert for the thoughts that creep into his head, but it’s hard to think differently when you look like this right before him.

Before you know it, Zayne’s lips land on yours, tongue exploring your mouth before it finds your own. His tongue presses against yours while his hands desperately try to take off the damp clothes that cover your body. Very skilled hands struggle, nerves overtaking him at the thought of feeling your body. An action he’s done many times before, but he turns into putty each and every time.

You’re not as nervous though, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it without an issue. Your hands go into his boxers, feeling him up which makes the man pathetically whimper into your kiss. He can come undone from a single move. And even when your hands are wrapped around his cock, he’s too nervous to touch under your shirt.  

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until you pull far enough that the bond breaks. You take off your shirt, and Zayne is watching you as if he were a teenager all over again. Cheeks burn red at the sight of some skin, it’s truly pathetic. It’s not just some skin though, you’re getting completely undressed in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s dumbfounded, it’s as if he’s never seen this before. This is nothing new to him, but it always feels like the first time… That’s a good thing, right? 

His lips land on yours again, though he takes more risks this time as his hand fondles your breast. His lips don’t last long on your mouth, choosing to kiss down your neck, before his lips land on your breasts. His lips kiss every inch of your skin before his tongue circles around your nipple. 

It’s nice, but you need more. Your body is begging to feel every inch of him. Luckily for you, it’s as if Zayne can read your mind.

“I need to taste more of you. Please.” There’s desperation behind his eyes, it’s as if he needs it. You get on the bed for him, legs spreading without a shame in the world.He stares down at you and he licks his lips. Maybe this is how he should’ve led the date in the first place.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He says as he gets on his knees. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up. So gentle and shy, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Doing things slowly is what makes this more exciting.

“Smells so sweet.” He finally gets to your pussy, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit before he kisses it. His lips feel so soft on you. He kisses your clit again before his tongue begins to flick it. Tastes even better than he remembered. 

Sweeter than he could ever imagine.

Low moans escape your lips as you feel his tongue work on you. The sound of your voice is perfect, all the motivation he needs to do this. It’s his reward for the night, and he couldn’t be happier. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. 

He kisses your clit, two long fingers running through your folds to gather your slick. Once his fingers are lubricated enough, he slowly pushes them in. He begins to suck on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You moan his name, pleasure already consuming you.

He curves his fingers so they hit just the right spot. You bite down your lip, feeling embarrassed at the thought of being too loud. He’s looking up at you, and the look on your face is something he wants to have ingrained in his memory.

His fingers pick up speed, and your hands grip the bed sheets. Pleasure consumes you, your climax slowly overtaking your body. You’re moaning his name again, unable to contain yourself as sex clouds your mind. 

“That’s it, baby! That’s so good.” You can’t help yourself as your boyfriend hits all the right spots. It’s music to his ears. Even when he’s been congratulated for his many achievements, this is the best thing he’s ever heard.

Your breath gets caught up in your chest, your body quivering as you finally reach your climax. Zayne pulls out his fingers, tongue continuing to lap at your cunt until he’s finally satisfied. He presses a kiss on your clit when he’s finished.

“I need you, baby. Please.” You say, and Zayne can’t afford to waste another moment. It hurts to even think with the uncomfortable feeling that’s in his pants. He walks to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube before giving all his attention to you. He gets undressed before getting on top of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Zayne asks as he pours the lube all over his dick. Maybe he should consider some sort of protection, but he needs to fully feel you. He needs to feel every inch of your body. 

“I need you, please. Give it to me.” Your voice is enough to drive him wild. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing himself into you. He bites his lip, not wanting the pathetic noise that leaves his throat to be audible. You feel so nice and warm around his cock, so fucking perfect in every single way.

“It’s so good.” He mutters, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he feels you around him. He bottoms out, stopping to give you time to adjust. 

“Move.” You tell him, and Zayne begins to move with slow thrusts. His eyes focus on your face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. It’s hard for him to not get nervous when you look like this, so fucking perfect. 

“You’re so tight.” He says, hands gripping the bed sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands going to the back of your neck to push him down. Your lips meet his in a messy but passionate kiss.

You drive him insane.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” You praise him, and you hear a groan come from his throat. His thrusts pick up speed, slowly losing himself inside of you. All composure comes undone when it comes to you.

He watches your hand move down your torso, and before you can even finish your thought, his hand takes over. His fingers play with your clit, doing everything just right. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, moaning his name over and over again.

“Fuck.” He curses, a word that rarely leaves his lips. But what else can he say when you’re squeezing around him? He shuts his eyes, too overwhelmed by everything that goes on. Your hands go to his back, nails digging into his soft flesh which makes him moan– The slight pain heightens the pleasure.

“Zayne, I’m gonna–” You begin, pleasure overtaking your body as another climax approaches. Zayne hits all the right spots, he simply knows your body too well. 

“I know, dear. I know.” He’s out of breath. He’s close too. It’s just too much for him to handle. But you’re one step ahead of him. Your nails drag along the skin of his back as pleasure gets the best of you. You see white, finally reaching your high. 

“Good job.” He praises you, knowing that he’s not going to last much. You’re just too much for him, which in the context, is a wonderful thing. His thrusts get sloppy, getting more vocal by the second.

“Can I finish inside?” He asks, and you frantically nod your head, not even having the words to say yes. You pull him into a kiss, and he groans into it as he releases his warm cum into you. A dragged out sigh leaves his lips when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He stays buried inside of you, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet. He stares into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them once again. There’s a certain spark in them, one that he’s noticed only appears when you look at him. The same spark that appears in his eyes.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask him as he pulls out of you. He lays down beside you, turning his head to look at your sweaty face.

“Clean up first.” He says, though you don’t listen and nuzzle up next to him. He rolls his eyes, but he still wraps his arms around you. “I admit, this is much better than stargazing.”

“We could’ve done that there too.” You respond without missing a beat, and his face gets completely red. He definitely wasn’t imagining that. He supposes that you could’ve, but it wouldn’t be as special– It would be even more special, it just would be indecent.

“I like it better here.” He tells you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s warm, and there’s no bugs around.”

“You’re right.” You chuckle. “Could you imagine if a mosquito bit you–”

“How about I run you a bath?” Zayne cuts you off, knowing that the question that’s about to leave your lips is absurd. He doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Will you join me?” You question, getting off him. He takes a moment to look at you before nodding in response. 

A bath sounds nice.

[fanficgirl429]

Mike has a feelings for you (fluff)

Prompt: While babysitting Abby she tells you that Mike has a crush on you

Pairing: Reader x Mike Schmidt

----

“I can’t believe I have to fucking work today,” Mike says, pulling his gray security shirt on. “I told them I can only work during the week!”

Your best friend scrambles around the living room, looking for his phone, keys, and wallet- all of which are in various places. You are currently sitting on the couch, watching all of this unfold. He was always leaving his items in various places. How many times had you told him to leave them in the same spot?

He finds his keys and phone and shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Where is my wallet?” he says, running his fingers through his already messy brown hair.

“Did you check your room?” you ask.

He quickly leaves the room and returns moments later with his wallet in his hand.

Mike let’s out a sigh and looks over at you. “Are you sure you’re ok watching her? I can always call Max.”

“I don’t mind watching her at all,” you tell him.

You stand up and walk over to your best friend. Wrapping your arms around his waist you pull him into a tight hug. He instantly relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“You have no idea how amazing you are,” Mike tells you, smiling.

You laugh as Mike takes a step back and towards the front door.

“Thank you so much for watching her,” Mike calls. “I owe you!”

“Hey Abs,” you say, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “What are you drawing?”

Abby smiles and passes you the sheet of paper. There is a white house with a large tree and three people standing out front. A man, a woman, and a child.

“You have to tell me who everyone is,” you say, pointing to the three people.

Abby stands up and comes to sit besides you on the bed. Her small hand points to the man on the page, “That’s Mike,” she moves her hand to the woman, “you,” and points to the child, “and that’s me.”

You weren’t shocked that you were drawn- Abby tended to draw the three of you alot. Mike and you had been best friends since middle school and you loved Abby like she was your little sister. Most of her drawings were things the three of you had done together or what she wanted to do with the two of you.

“And who’s house is this?” you question.

“We all live there together,” Abby states.

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you reply.

“Yea! Because you and Mike are going to get married!”

Abby’s comment throws you off. Not once has she ever asked about your and her brother's relationship.

“What makes you think we’re getting married?”

“Because Mike has a crush on you,” Abby says, shrugging.

You laugh. “No he doesn’t.”

Abby nods her head. “Yes he does. He says your name a lot in his sleep.”

“But that doesn’t mean he has a crush on me,” you tell her.

Abby’s silent for a moment then answers quietly. “You make him smile and laugh and he’s always happy when you’re around. He’s not like that around anyone else.”

Her answer surprises you but kids are very perceptive. Instead of pressing any further, you tell Abby to start to get ready for bed.

“Do you have a crush on Mike?” Abby askes as you tuck her in to her bed.

“Oh…um…yea, I do,” you tell her.

Little does Abby know but you are in love with her brother.

Abby smiles and nods and you turn the light off, closing the door behind you as you walk back to the living room.

—-

Abby falls asleep quickly and you sit in the living room watching tv. Your mind keeps going back to conversation with Abby. Does Mike really have a crush on you?

Abby doesn't know it (well maybe she figured it out) but you’ve had feelings for Mike for a long time. You loved your relationship with Mike and didn’t want to jeopardize it so you never made any indication or moves towards him. You had hoped that maybe he would be the first one to make a move but he never did.

All of the sudden it hits you, how tired you are. You stand up from the couch and stretch and slowly walk back towards Mikes room. This isn’t the first time you had slept over. Many times after Abby had gone to sleep, you and Mike would stay up together, hanging out. At first Mike insisted that you sleep at his house but now he didn’t even have to say anything- you would just crash on his bed, next to him.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep and a few hours later, the bed dips slightly as Mike lays down next to you- waking you but only for a brief moment.

—-

The sun peeks through the curtains in Mikes room and the smell of bacon and pancakes wake you up from your sleep.

The spot on the bed next to you is disheveled -the only evidence that Mike has slept there.

As you lay in bed for another minute, you hear voices drifting down the hallway. You can’t make out what they are saying but you can tell it’s Mike and Abby.

Standing up, you walk into the hallway but hang back for a moment- waiting to see what they are talking about.

“Did you know that Y/N had a crush on you?” Abby tells Mike.

“How do you know?” you hear him ask.

“She told me,” Abby states matter of factly.

It’s then that you decide to walk into the small kitchen. Abby and Mike are both sitting at the small kitchen table, eating bacon and pancakes.

“Morning,” you say, walking over to the coffee maker.

“Morning,” Abby and Mike say at the same time.

Mike's hair is sticking up in various directions and he looks like he just woke up. His dark t-shirt hugs his frame and you know he’s wearing his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants.

“I’m going to go draw,” Abby says, leaving you and Mike alone in the kitchen.

Mike watches as you pour yourself a glass of coffee but don’t turn around to face him.

“So,” he begins. “Abby told me something interesting…”

“And what was that?” you question, although you already know the answer.

“She said that you have a crush on me.”

“Oh. Why would she say that?”

“She said that you told her you did.”

You turn around to face your best friend, your eyes locking with his. His cheeks are slightly pink and it makes you feel better that this conversation might be slightly embarrassing for him as well.

“I-uh-,” you stammer.

Mike stands up and walks over to you and your back presses against the counter. He slowly moves his hands to your waist, waiting to see how you’ll react. When you don’t move away, he grips your waist, his brown eyes locking with yours.

“What if I told you that I had a crush on you?” he says.

A soft smile crosses your lips and Mike reaches up and places his hand against your cheek, his thumb moving in small circles.

You move your arms up and snake them around his neck, waiting for him to make the next move. His body is pressed against yours and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.

Within moments, he leans down and brushes his lips against yours before pulling away.

“Why did you stop?” you tease him.

He smiles as his presses his lips against yours and they move together, almost as if the two of you had done this before.

[capquinn]

Disarm | Q. Hughes

summary: quinn is lost in a mood he can’t quite shake, but you’re determined to bring back his smile — one kiss at a time. pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: fluff, grumpy/sunshine word count: 1.1k ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Quinn’s been drifting around the apartment all day, carrying an invisible weight that seems to have wrapped itself around his shoulders. He moves from room to room like a shadow, quiet and slow, casting this low hum of heaviness in his wake. It’s not the kind of mood with sharp edges; there’s no snapping, no outbursts. It’s just this unspoken gloom, dimming the usual warmth of your space.

You’ve been watching him, feeling a twinge of frustration mixed with that urge to help him shake it off. You know him so well — how he bottles things up, how rare it is for him to get lost in his own head like this, so deeply that even your usual go-to comforts don’t reach him. You’d tried everything to pull him back, from suggesting a walk in the fresh air to putting on his favourite movie. You’d even taken the time to make that one snack he devours on sight, the one that usually brings him to the kitchen in under five seconds flat. But today, he had only mumbled a quiet thanks, barely glancing up before returning to his brooding silence.

Now, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, his brow slightly furrowed. You stand there for a beat, taking him in from across the room, feeling the urge to do something to break through whatever storm is brewing in his mind. The familiar space feels oddly foreign under the weight of his mood, his silence filling it in a way that makes you want to step in, to tug him out of this fog even if it means trying something a little… different. 

You draw in a breath, your determination firming up as you cross the room, setting your mind on one last attempt to reach him, ready to try anything to bring back the warmth that’s always so natural between you.

You step right into his line of sight, tilting your head with a playful smile. “Quinny,” you drawl, stretching out the nickname just enough to catch his attention. His lips twitch, almost like he’s about to smile, but he quickly glances away.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters before you can even ask, his voice low, though there’s a trace of grumpiness he’s clearly still trying to shrug off.

“Oh, really?” You take a step closer, letting your hands settle on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “You’ve barely said a word all day.” Your voice softens, teasing but gentle, hoping to coax something — anything — out of him.

When he doesn’t respond, you tilt your head, searching his face, and ask, “how can I help?” Words tender, an open invitation, but he just gives a quiet shrug, his gaze still far off, his arms crossed as though he’s trying to hold onto whatever’s got him weighed down.

You can tell he’s not ready to talk, not yet willing to open up, but you’re not about to let him stay locked away in his own head. Not if you can help it.

You slide your hands up his chest, leaning in close until you’re on your toes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. “What about this?” you ask, pulling back just enough to catch his eye. Still nothing — he’s holding firm, jaw set, though you can practically feel him fighting to keep up the wall he’s built around himself. “Any better?”

You don’t wait for an answer, leaning in to kiss his other cheek with just a bit more purpose this time. “Still nothing?” 

He’s working hard to stay grumpy, to hold onto whatever’s weighing on him, but you catch the faintest flicker in his eyes and the smallest tug at the corner of his mouth. You’re close.

“Oh, come on,” you murmur, tracing the line of his jaw with light kisses, feeling his skin warm under your touch. “You’re really gonna make me work for it?”

He inhales sharply, and you can tell he’s trying to resist, to keep his guard up, but his resolve is slipping little by little. And you’re determined, pressing kiss after kiss across his face — the bridge of his nose, the soft space just below his ear, the warm curve of his cheeks. Each one is light and lingering, sweet and relentless.

You’re close now, so close that your breath mingles with his, and his eyes finally meet yours. His expression has softened, his lips hovering at a not-quite-smile, just waiting to break free.

“If you don’t smile soon,” you whisper, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth, “I’m just gonna have to keep kissing every inch of your face.”

A small huff escapes him, and it’s only a matter of time before the frown softens and quiet amusement flickers in his eyes. His arms drop to his sides, shoulders easing as he gives in, the tension unwinding with each little kiss you press to his skin. After all, having you close, showering him with affection… it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Your lips brush just below his ear, and he breathes out a long, slow sigh, his eyes falling shut as he relaxes into you. Encouraged, you shift back to his jawline, letting your lips trace its sharp curve in gentle, spongy kisses, feeling his jaw slacken and his chest rise and fall against yours. You hover at the corner of his mouth, lingering there, savouring the way he’s finally melting under your touch, the edges of his guarded silence slipping away.

And then, a small grin pulls at his lips, a soft laugh tumbling out as his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him in surrender. 

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and affection as he tucks you against his chest. But the grumpiness is gone, the weight he’s carried all day dissolving into warmth that spreads through both of you.

“There it is,” you say with a triumphant smile, winding your arms around his neck, leaning in with a gentle nudge. “Knew you’d give in.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound that fills the space around you as his hands settle at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s hardly any space between you.

“Guess I didn’t stand a chance,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft as he bends down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that feels as natural as breathing.

His hands splay warmly against your back, pulling you close like he never wants to let go. The kiss is gentle, steady, the kind that disarms the weight of the day, melting away every bit of tension between you until all that’s left is the soft warmth in the air, quiet breaths, and the steady rhythm of hearts.

[awkward-walking-potato]

how would Logan handle a reader that has anxiety? maybe they tend to overthink about things easily, or just can’t stop thinking about certain things. maybe they hide it really well but he knows them well enough to know when they’re upset

Unspoken Understanding

The world outside was quiet���too quiet, in Logan’s opinion. Nights like this always had a way of crawling under his skin, the kind of silence that made you hyper-aware of everything, every little sound, every little breath. But tonight, his focus wasn’t on the stillness of the night. It was on you.

You were sitting across from him on the couch, curled up with a book in your lap, a picture of perfect calmness to anyone who didn’t know better. But Logan knew better.

He watched you over the edge of his beer, eyes narrowed slightly, his senses keenly attuned to the subtle tells that most people would miss. The way you hadn’t turned the page in several minutes. The tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers twitched ever so slightly as if fighting the urge to fidget. And then there was the way you occasionally glanced up from the book, your gaze distant, lost in whatever thoughts were swirling around in your mind.

He didn’t need to ask to know something was wrong. He could smell it on you, the faint scent of stress that clung to your skin, masked by the outward calm you projected. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like this, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He’d come to recognize the signs, the way you’d retreat into yourself when your mind got too loud, when the overthinking started to take over.

Logan was many things—gruff, blunt, more than a little rough around the edges—but he wasn’t oblivious. Not when it came to you.

He set his beer down on the coffee table, the soft clink of glass against wood drawing your attention. You looked up, eyes meeting his, and for a moment, you managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were trying, he knew that. Trying to hide it, trying not to let whatever was going on inside your head affect the evening. But it was a losing battle.

“Something on your mind, darlin’?” His voice was low, calm, a contrast to the roughness it usually held. He wasn’t pushing, just opening the door for you to walk through if you wanted to.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping back to the book in your lap. “I’m fine, Logan,” you replied, your voice steady, practiced. It was an answer you’d given before, one that you hoped would put his mind at ease, but he wasn’t buying it. Not tonight.

He let the silence hang between you for a moment, just long enough for you to realize that he wasn’t going to let it slide. Then, with a quiet sigh, he shifted on the couch, moving closer to you. The cushions dipped under his weight as he settled beside you, his presence solid, grounding.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, his hand finding its way to your knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your pants. It wasn’t a demand, more like an offer. An invitation.

You bit your lip, the weight of his gaze on you, making it harder to keep everything bottled up. You knew he wouldn’t judge you, that he’d listen, but the words still felt heavy on your tongue.

“It’s nothing, really,” you began, but the way his brow arched ever so slightly told you he wasn’t convinced. “I just… I keep thinking about things. Stupid things. Things I can’t control.”

Logan didn’t interrupt, didn’t push for more. He just let you speak, his hand on your knee a steady anchor.

“It’s like my mind just won’t shut off,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I keep running through everything, over and over, and I know it’s pointless, but I can’t help it. It’s like I’m stuck in a loop, and I don’t know how to get out.”

There it was, the truth laid bare between you. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but admitting it, saying it out loud, made it feel just a little bit more manageable.

Logan’s hand shifted, his thumb brushing over your knee in a soothing motion. “You’re not alone in this,” he said quietly, his voice rough around the edges, but there was a softness there, too. A tenderness he didn’t show to many people. “You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

The words were simple, but they carried weight. Logan wasn’t the type to offer platitudes or false reassurances. What he said, he meant. And he meant this.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tightness in your chest ease just a fraction. “I know,” you murmured, leaning into his touch, letting his presence ground you. “It’s just… hard sometimes.”

He nodded, understanding in the way his eyes softened as they met yours. “I get it,” he said, and you knew he did. Logan had his own demons, his own battles with the past, with the thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone. He understood better than most.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Logan didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t try to offer solutions or tell you how to fix it. He just sat with you, his hand a steady, comforting presence on your knee, letting you know without words that he was there. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

After a few minutes, you shifted, leaning into him, and he welcomed you into his arms without hesitation. You tucked yourself against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough to make the world feel a little less overwhelming.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt.

He didn’t respond with words, just pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You felt the tension slowly begin to drain from your body, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket draped over your legs.

[borathae]

"You wake up in Jungkook's bed after a passionate night together."

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, domestic Fluff, hinted Smut

Warnings: casual nudity, Kookie shows off his muscles, he is a giggly cutie who just wants to be praised, they talk about last night's sex, she kisses his abs, he is so in love with her :(

Wordcount: 2k

a/n: i wanna give him the world. he is my babyboy :( also, i don't gotta mention by which live this was inspired. y'all KNOW fjadjfa. enjoy besties, i fucking love him 🤍

Something is tickling your face. Gently. Nicely. Warm. It feels warm. Fingers. You can make out the paths they draw. Over your forehead, tracing your brows, down your temples, along your cheeks and up your nose until the faintest touch feels up your closed eyelids. 

You know where you are. Jungkook’s wing. You stayed with him after the two of you went on a lovely movie date in town, followed by karaoke in his living room till late into the night. 

You had sex too. It was good sex. Amazing sex even. He made you see not only stars, but the entire galaxy. And in return you made him arch his back and whimper your name. It was amazing. It really, really was.

You still feel the afterglow of it. It became stronger again now that you are awake and actively take him in.

His soft scent lingers on the sheets and the warmth of his touch feels heavenly. You can’t stop your lips from curling into a sleepy smile. Quite frankly, you didn’t even try to stop them. Perhaps you even encouraged them to do so. 

“Mhm good morning. That feels amazing”, you mumble. 

“Good morning, my honey”, he answers you and cups your cheek to run his thumb along the tender skin under your eye. Once. Twice. 

Then you open your eyes to look at him. 

His face scrunches up into a giddy smile instantly. It starts off with his eyes before the rest of his face follows. You love the way he smiles. It is so precious and adorable that he always starts off with his eyes before anything else shows his happiness. It fits him so well. 

You retort his smile, feeling it grow when he scoots closer to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“I hope I didn’t wake you. I’ve been awake for a little and I tried not to touch you, but you’re so pretty when you sleep”, he says, making your heart flutter. 

He scoots back again and touches your ear to massage it softly. 

“You didn’t wake me”, you assure him, tingling at the touch. 

“That’s good to hear. I hope you don’t mind that I looked at you”, he says and giggles, “I’m sorry, I just think that you’re so pretty.”

“I don’t mind”, you say and reach out to caress his naked chest, “you’re so cute, my honey.”

“Thank you, yeah”, he says and giggles. He is so cute when he is so happy. You hope that he never stops giggling. He shimmies back just enough that you can look at him comfortably. He gathers a bundle of his blanket and uses it to rest his chin on it. Like this, you have perfect view of his sculpted arms and tattoos. He didn’t bother to put on clothes last night and neither did you. He kept snuggling up to you throughout the night and whenever you noticed it, you felt yourself tingle. His skin felt like paradise against yours. It really did.

His eyes gaze at you with sparkles in them. 

“How did you sleep?” he asks. 

“Really well. Your bed’s so comfy.”

“Yeah? That’s good to hear”, he says and giggles once again. 

“And you?”

“I slept well too, yeah. I dreamed of you.”

“You did?” 

“Mh-hm. I dreamed of last night. It’s because I can’t stop thinking about it”, he giggles again, giving you the prettiest eye smile ever, “I think we had a really amazing date. I loved it a lot.”

“I loved it too”, you answer him and touch his arm to squeeze it lovingly, “you’re so cute.”

“Heh”, he lets out and blushes, “and I think that the sex was amazing”, he sounds shy all of a sudden, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You smile and agree with a nod of your head, “I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

“Do your knees still hurt?” he makes sure. You finished him off by riding him and you went at it with such passion that your knees ached afterwards.

“No, they don’t. I told you, they were just tired.”

“You did it so hard”, he says and giggles with his nose scrunching up. He snuggles the blanket, even going so far as to rub his cheek against it, “I couldn’t stop moaning.”

“I couldn’t tell at all”, you joke and snicker.

He snickers as well, nodding his head, “I know, I was so loud. I can’t help it because you’re so, so good.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m the same when you touch me.”

“Yeah, I know”, he says, glancing down at your body just once, “you sounded really sexy. I think.”

“Thank you, baby. You sounded really sexy too.”

“Yeah, I liked it”, he says, “I’ve been able to make love to you without danger for such a long time already, but I still feel so excited by it. So it always feels epic and, and”, he stops himself, glancing at you shyly, “I hope I’m not annoying you with this already.”

“Kookie, come on”, you say sternly and nudge his chest, “don’t you dare say that. I feel as excited as you do, sweets. You deserve to feel this way.”

“Thank you. It means a lot that you share those feelings with me.”

“Of course, baby. I mean it.”

He smiles and reaches out to touch your face. Your cheek, your brow and temple until he ends it with a soft brush over your lips. And as he makes sure that your face is actually as beautiful as he thinks it is, his sparkly eyes race over your features without wanting to stop. They finally land on your lips and the way they look so pretty in the morning lights.

“I uhm”, he begins and lets out a shy giggle, meeting your gaze. You retort the chuckle, caressing the inside of his wrist.

“Mhm?”

“I think you’re beautiful”, he says, making your heart flutter.

“Thank you so much”, you whisper giddily, “you’re beautiful too.”

“Thank you”, he says and sits up just a little, “hey ___? I was thinking”, he begins.

“What were you thinking?” you ask him, expecting the most profound revelation ever.

“My arms look really strong today. What do you think?” he says, showing off by flexing his arm. His muscles tense and bulge, capturing your attention. 

You stifle a snicker. You did not expect for the conversation to go this way. He is such a wonderful person.

“Look at this”, he points at the most sculpted parts, “can you see the lines there and, and how big it looks there?”

“I can”, you tell him, melting in fondness. He is so adorable when he shows off because you know for a fact that he believes that this is the most impressive thing he could do. Not being loving and gentle, neither being the best listener and sweetest person ever. No, in his eyes showing off his muscles is the most impressive thing about him. Which, don’t misunderstand, is very impressive, but it is still very adorable as well because of how randomly he decided to do it. 

“Can you see how strong I am?” he asks, flexing even harder. 

“I can”, you reach out and touch his arm. It is rockhard, “wow, Kookie your muscles are so hard.”

“Right? It’s because I’m so strong”, he says.

“Mhm, of course you are. You’re such a strong man, this is so impressive”, you praise him, squeezing his arm gently, “wow, so strong.”

“Yeah, right?” he agrees and then sticks his head under the blanket for a second. You watch him with fondness bubbling in your tummy, “and check this out”, he says, reappearing again and tugging the blanket down his torso just enough that the first hint of his pubes gets revealed. He is resting on his back, propped up on his elbow and with his abs flexed. He runs his fingers down the lines of them, “look.”

You roll to your tummy and prop yourself up on your elbows. Like this, you could easily rest your chin on his stomach if you wanted to.

“Wow Kookie, your abs looks so strong”, you gasp.

“Right? It’s because I used them so much last night”, he says, making your chest flutter. He wasn’t lying. He did use them a lot as he was making you see galaxies.

“Mhm of course you did”, you say, “can I touch?”

“Of course.”

You reach out and trace his muscles with your fingertips. Jungkook watches you with his breathing just a little quickened. Goosebumps cover his skin wherever you touch. You finish your explorations by shimmying closer and draping your arm over his lap just so you can lower your lips to his stomach and kiss it.

Jungkook gasps when that happens, shivering like crazy. You nuzzle your nose into his faint happy trail and inhale his scent. He smells like warm nights, good sex and clean skin. It’s addictive, really, and for just a short moment you play with the desire to lick him until he shivers.

You lift your head, meeting his droopy gaze.

“My strong man”, you say, flashing him a loving grin.

Jungkook breaks into a fit of happy giggles, picking you up in his strong arms to hug you against his chest. 

“Thank you ___, I’m your strong man”, he says, wiggling you from side to side. 

“Yes you are”, you tell him, snaking your arm around his waist, “I feel very safe in your arms.”

“Wow really?” he gasps and giggles, “wow, thank you. This means so much to me.”

He lies down with you in his arms, which results in your finding your new resting spot sprawled halfway on top of him and with your face buried in the crook of his neck. You grunt at the impact, before a fond chuckle shakes your shoulders.

“Careful”, you tell him.

“I’m sorry”, he slips his arms from you, “did I hurt you?”

“No, you just surprised me. That’s all”, you say, climbing on top of him and sitting down on his lap. Just below his dick and with your hands feeling up his pecs. Like this, the blanket covers you until your hips while the rest of your body was exposed to the cool air. Goosebumps cover your skin instantly, but Jungkook touches don’t allow your body to feel cold. He runs his hands all over your body, leaving out the most intimate spots for respect reasons and massaging the parts which he thinks are so incredibly soft.

“My strong man, mhm?” you say.

He nods his head vigorously, pressing out a shaky, “yeah.” He is just so excited to be with you and to be your strong man! He is your man! That’s awesome!

You run your hands to his shoulders before placing them in the pillow beside his head. Like this, you can look down at his pretty face while Jungkook feels up your back and the beginning of your buttocks.

“Should we check out this café we passed last night?”

You drove by a café on your way to the cinema yesterday. Back then, it had already closed for the day, but it promised fresh breakfast everyday in the café window. You talked about going there one day and trying out the menu.

“I love this idea”, he says, “I’m really hungry already”, he tells you and adds a quick, “not that kind of hungry though, don’t worry.”

You laugh, “I wasn’t thinking that”, you assure him, pecking his lips. 

Jungkook hums and hooks his arms behind your head. With one expert movement, he has your positions flipped, kissing your lips as happy purrs rumble in his chest.

“Kookie, wait”, you giggle, fighting him off with minimal effort, “the breakfast.”

“You shouldn’t have kissed me then”, he mumbles, chasing your kiss.

“It was a peck, you’re the one deepening it”, you complain with a racing heart.

“Mhm no”, he answers you, making you laugh.

“Come on, baby”, you snicker, turning your head so he is kissing your cheek instead.

“Hmpf fine”, he huffs out air, rubbing his nose against you slowly, “first shower, then breakfast, then I’ll buy you flowers and then I’ll show you what kissing me all naked gets you.”

“Sounds like a deal”, you say, feeling oh so giddy that you could burst.

[marypaol]

Skin To Skin

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Draco knowing who his soulmate is, yet he can’t bear to face her.

Warnings: Teasing, Boggarts, mention of fears, mention of the Hospital Wing, the Weasley twins being themselves, etc.

Note: This is Part 2 of “Copy Of A Copy”, so check it out before you read this! (And I’m sorry if this one is bad)

Copy Of A Copy

Masterlist

Request Reauirements

This person believed in me so here you go! : @theomalfoy

Draco wasn’t the want-everything-to-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-after-complaining-about-it-type.

Well, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But he knew deep down that he did want everything to go back to the way they were, because every time he looked at his hand, that deep red spot of irritated skin was slowly fading away and he wanted to find a reason to create it again.

She’d stopped drawing. And normally Draco would find that a good thing; now he didn’t have to harshly wipe them off and be left an embarrassing red spot on his hand. But he found himself thinking back on how the drawings actually looked good, despite him being annoyed at the fact they repeatedly showed up on his skin, and he wanted them back. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous if you were to look back on how he acted towards the other drawings that previously showed up on his hand.

But he missed it. Missed watching the lines form one by one, letting him know she existed. He even couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind, ever since he saw her in Care of Magical Creatures. He couldn’t help but think she was decently pretty.

Draco’s hand has unwanted sweat on it so he harshly wiped it on his robes, a disgusted expression lying on his lips. He knew the reason for the sweat though, his quill once again hovering over his skin, the same skin he used to aggressively rub almost everyday as his soulmate drew mindless doodles on her hand.

He dipped the quill tip in the ink, the noises of everyone scattering about being the last thing on his mind, in fact the occasional “SHH!” from Madam Irma Prince was quite helpful to encourage him to focus once the students followed her orders.

He sighed softly, taking a deep breath while staring stupidly at his pale skin he was about to ruin.

He leaned down, the quill tip making contact with his hand two times, forming two dots. Those were eyes, he decided, and drew a straight line below them, making a face that represented him at the moment. His eyes were full yet his lips held uncertainty, hesitant to do this.

Once it was over it didn’t seem so bad anymore, as long as he could manage to hide it from Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of them teasing him about it, teasing him about actually writing back on his skin was unbearable. He could only hope that they don’t stare at his hand.

“Don’t be scared now, it’s just a Boggart.” Professor Lupin explained, his wand held with two hands, a grip on each end.

“Now, Boggarts like tight dark places, and I found this one in the wardrobe yesterday. I asked Dumbledore if we could use it for the lesson and thankfully he said yes. Now, does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?”

The usual hand of Hermione Granger was shot up at the speed of lightning, and once she was called on, she answered not only the right answer but was awarded points for her House.

“No one knows, sir. It takes form of the deepest fear of whomever it faces.”

“Correct, Ms. Granger.” Lupin said, smiling while Granger went slightly pink.

Draco rolled his eyes, irritation seeming to be boiling within them.

“But, everyone, we have an advantage against this creature. And that is?”

“There’s so many of us, it doesn’t know what to turn into?” Potter answered, and Lupin replied with a smile, and awarded more points to Gryiffindor.

“Exactly!” Lupin exclaimed. “Now, though, there is a way to get past a Boggart. And that spell is Riddikulus!” Lupin said, doing the hand movement with the one that possessed his wand. “Say it with me now…”

“Riddikulus!” The class said together.

“This class is ridiculous.” Draco mutters under his breath, Crabbe nodding in agreement beside him while he heard a snuffled laugh somewhere near. His head swerved and he spotted the same girl he saw in Hagrid’s class, trying not to smirk at his joke. He found a smirk coming to his own lips, proud of himself.

“They feed on fear, so think of what you fear the most, and turn it into something funny.” Lupin once again explained, and brought up Neville as a demonstration. “Now, Neville, tell me, what do you fear the most?”

“P-professor Snape.” the boy mumbled, having to repeat the same thing again but a little louder since the Professor didn’t hear him.

“Ahh.” Lupin said amusingly once the name was repeated. “I suppose he does intimidate us all in some way.”

There was a pause before Lupin continued to project to the class, for he was having a quiet conversation with the student before him. “Now Neville, I want you to think of your Grandmother’s clothes very clearly in your mind, can you do that?”

Neville nodded, shaking in his shoes. The door opened and Snape stepped out, looking normal as ever like you’d see him everyday but Neville was scared.

“Wand at the ready!” Lupin reminded, Neville held his wand up and squeaked, “Riddikulus!”

Snape seemed to spin around and he soon found himself in Neville Longbottom’s Grandmother’s clothes, a red handbag on his right arm.

The class laughed, Neville’s face slowly turned into an expression of relief.

Draco scoffed basically the whole time, not ending up actually facing the Boggart but watching as his peers did.

Weasley was practically having a seizure as he faced the spider, helplessly whimpering the spell causing the spider to have roller skates, legs swinging everywhere.

Draco couldn’t help but be curious on what the girl’s fear was, but she didn’t end up facing it just like him.

There was an exited buzz in the air as the students left class, each of them wanting recognition for how brave they were while facing their biggest fears.

“-did you see how I faced that snake-”

“-just said the spell and it went, pop!-”

“-the spider was huge!-”

“-never seen that kind of creature before-”

Draco grumbled angrily, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle’s arms and leading them out to the courtyard in front of the Black Lake.

“That was stupid. Why did he let us do that anyway, and for Dumbledore to give permission…wait til by father hears of this.” He mumbled, looking down and adjusting his arm bandages, thinking back when he insulted the Hippogriff. (He still didn’t regret it, the creature did look kinda ugly to him.)

“Right. We should owl him right away.” Crabbe suggested.

Draco looked up from his arm, eyes flaring. “‘We?!’ I’ll do it. It’s my father after all.”

His friends nodded, Crabbe going pink in the ears.

Goyle’s eyes then shot to Draco’s hand. “Ha! What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco acted confused, and looking down, acted like he’d seen it for the first time. He pretended to look disgusted. “Gross I tell you, I’ll wash it off later.” He said, looking back at them. Both pair of eyes were still on him.

“Well? What are you looking at?” He snarled, and that seemed to do the trick, both heads bending down as they suddenly found interest in the grass.

“Do this Potion before you leave class, and then a portion of it on my desk with your name on it.”

Snake’s sharp voice echoed through the dark classroom, his gaze seeming to meet all of their eyes before he turned around, adding one last part of his instructions in the black board and heading to his desk, long nose lurking over the surface covered in parchment.

The girl sighed, opening the book to the page instructed and starting to chop the first ingredient. She liked to think of herself good at Potions, but sometimes little things like the reactants would mix up in her mind. But nonetheless if she focused hard enough and followed each step carefully, than she was proud to say that she could do it almost perfectly.

It was only then that she noticed the black markings on the back of her hand, and, looking more closely by bringing up her hand to her face, saw it was a smiley face. It looked smeared a little and the lines were wobbly, but she liked it since she wasn’t the one to draw it.

Scurrying through her bag pretending she was looking for something important, grabbed a quill and dipped it in another student’s ink when they weren’t looking. Then, turning back to her hand and covering it behind her cauldron so the nosy Professor wouldn’t see, drew two eyes next to his, a soft smile beneath it to show her gratitude. He didn’t do much, just too dots and a line, but the reason was all that mattered to her.

She just knew that he missed her somewhat forms of affection, so he acted upon himself to continue it.

“Ridiculous, I tell you, why’d he look at me like that? The audacity of some peop-”

“Sorry.”

Draco didn’t realize he ran into someone else, too busy rambling to himself about an annoying First Year who glared at him out of nowhere to notice his body ran into another. It ended up being a Third Year Hufflepuff, quickly scurrying around the corner to avoid the Slytherin.

Draco rolled his eyes, turning back to the direction he was going and continuing to walk to the Common Room. He muttered the password, climbing into the space full of couches and chairs, all in front of a burning fire, flames high and bright, full of color.

He sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to get back from the Hospital Wing; the Weasley twins caught them in the hallway, convinced them to eat some candy, and now their faces were covered in red dots that got bigger by the second. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the news when Madame told him before making his way to the room.

He currently sat with a Potions book in his hands, long fingers running across the pages that helped his eyes read it better.

He turned the page, but the page he turned got caught on his robes, and, using his left hand, went to fix it before he froze. On his left wrist, he had another smile face beside the one he drew, this one with an actual smile this time not a straight line like his.

He fought a grin that was threatening to pull the corners of his lips, reaching over to pull his robe sleeve over it so no one could see.

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!

Person I think would like this: @dunningz :)

[princessbrunette]

when did you know you loved me? pt.1 /4 ♡

for puppy!reader, being john booker routledge’s girlfriend meant asking random questions at random times. would you still love me if i was a worm? what would you do if someone tried to kidnap me? who would win in a fight between you and a shark?

what you loved about john b, was that he always had an answer. that was this thing — always having a solution, a plan A, plan B, it was all he knew, so he never had trouble thinking of ways to answer your innocent, inquisitive queries.

it was on a stroll through the neighbourhood, hand in hand when the question occurred to you. this was the first time you’d ever loved someone — so you wasn’t sure how it was supposed to work. sure, you’d said ‘i love you’ to eachother, many times — but you wasn’t sure if you could pinpoint the moment it happened. the moment you realised.

“i thought of a question to ask.” you swing his hand in your own as you walk carefully alongside him, careful not to trip on any loose tiles in the sidewalk like you’d done five minutes prior. you seem to have snapped him out of some thoughts, possibly a conundrum he was facing with the pogues or about some maps, but he seems happy to escape his thoughts — head snapping towards you with a small smile.

“yeah? shoot, pup.”

“when did you know you loved me?” you’re a little quieter today, perhaps timid to ask such a vulnerable question. as you ask he feels your eyes flicker up from your shoes to his hand, up his arm and then to his face. it wasn’t like you to be shy, not with him — which only filled his heart with more of that warm admiration.

“ohoho— that is a good question. one i actually, have an answer to.” he smirks, and you can’t help but grin, already feeling at ease. there was always a story with john b, it was never a simple answer.

“yeah?” you sound hopeful, staring up at his profile as you walk now, trusting him to guide you away from anything that could cause you to trip once more.

“uh-huh. i even remember what you were wearing that day.” he hums, enjoying the element of you having to draw it out of him, although he would have definitely have just told you anyway without any convincing.

“tell me!” you gasp with an elated giggle and he chuckles in response.

“okay, okay— but look, don’t expect anything crazy. it was uh… kind of a regular old moment? you know? like… you’re gonna be confused.” he nods as he gathers his thoughts. you come to a brick wall, one with chipped white paint, and pink flowers sprouting from the overgrown grass around it. you take the moment to let go of his hand and leap, clambering up to sit on top of the wall. instead of telling you to be careful like he usually might, he joins you — sitting side by side on the wall.

“okay.” you ready yourself.

“we’d maybe known eachother for…” he blows a puff of air from his cheeks as he thinks. “six weeks? you’d started coming to the chateau pretty regularly, kind of just showing up without an invite which i didn’t mind ‘cus you know, i was falling for you pretty fast.”

you smile, remembering what it was first like when you were getting to know john b.

“so… you’d fallen out of that tree. you remember? the one out the front, just… dropped right down from the branch. what you were doing up there, i don’t know, i mean i told you not to climb it, but there you were, climbing it anyway… and…” he rambles comically, gesturing you falling from the tree eliciting a small laugh from you, he trails off, thinking back on the moment with a softness to him. “you were wearing this cute little blue shirt and a skirt, and when i was patching you up i remember thinking how blue is like… definitely your colour.” he nods, and you find yourself mirroring his nod, so entranced in the way he speaks.

“anyway, uh — i was patching up your knee, and despite everything you still had your headphones over your ears. i gestured for you to take them off so, you know — i could ask if you’re okay, and uh…” he chuckles, shaking his head. “you said no. because your favourite song was still playing and you wanted to let it finish. yoooou and that damn walkman.” he shakes his head again in faux disappointment as you grin proudly, beginning to remember the day he spoke of.

only then he breaks out of his storytelling trance, turning his head to look at you from where he was staring ahead. “aaaand… yeah. love kinda just… happened? i know for a fact i knew in that moment that i was in love with you.” he finishes, his voice low and warm as he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars. john b was never one to shy away from affection— he was a loverboy at heart and this only proved it. you bite your lip, feeling your nose get a little runny like you wanted to cry. noticing this, john b smirks, tilting his head a little.

“what, too sappy? didnt wanna make you cry…” he jokes, reaching over to cup your cheek, swiping his thumb over it like he was wiping the tears that hadn’t fallen.

“it would be a happy kind of cry… because you make me happy.” you’re lost for words, but you swallow down the lump and smile anyway, kicking your legs on the wall with glee.

“well that’s good. i definitely like making you happy.”

[startanewdream]

can you write a fan fic on Sirius giving Harry advice on Ginny. I need Hinny fluff!

This was sent so many years months ago, hope you'll still read it, Anon!

godfatherly advice

Summary: Sirius and Remus discuss Harry's love life. Set during OotP. Around 1600 words.

“Do you remember a girl named Cho Chang?”

It is the sudden change in their talk — they had been exchanging stories of their favorite Christmas dinners at Hogwarts — that makes Remus blink, surprised. He turns to Sirius, but his friend is now looking at the far corner of the kitchen where Harry is playing Explosive Snap.

“What?”

“When you were teaching at Hogwarts,” Sirius answers, sounding impatient. “There was a girl called Cho Chang, right?”

“Right,” Remus agrees slowly. “Ah—she was in the Fourth Year. Ravenclaw. Bright girl. She wrote this essay about curses—”

Sirius waves him off. “Fourth Year,” he muses. “One year above Harry, then. Different houses. Not much in common.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Pretty girl?”

He jumps. “I didn’t notice it! I was her professor—”

“Oh, get a grip.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Think like a fifteen-year-old boy—never mind, you never mentioned your crushes back in school, I don’t think you were ever a teenager.”

Warmth floods Remus’ face, and he deviates his gaze. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Hum…” Sirius seems as embarrassed as he gets. “Rumour has it that Harry’s got a crush on this girl.”

“Rumour.” Remus glances at where Tonks and Hermione are talking with the Weasley twins. “I guess this rumour is friends with one of Harry’s best friends.”

“I am not discussing my sources with you. But if you can trust this particular rumour, and you can… Harry and this girl, Cho, got friendly before the end of the term.”

“Oh.” Remus watches Harry for a moment. With his overly large shirt and laughing freely as he plays Explosive Snap with Ginny Weasley, Harry doesn’t look his age. “I forgot he is old enough to have a girlfriend.”

There’s a grunt in answer. Sirius is frowning, displeased.

“What?”

“I don’t think she is his girlfriend. From what Ton—my source mentioned, it was just a snog or something like that. “

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Just a snog? That doesn’t sound like Harry.” Sure, Remus may have missed a few — a lot of — years staying away from Harry, but he got to know him during his time as a professor. And between Voldemort and the Triwizard Tournament, not to mention all the stress of this year, he doubts Harry has turned into some kind of Casanova since then. 

“No,” Sirius shakes his head. “But from what I got, Harry has had feelings for this girl for ages, but it is complicated—she was the girlfriend of the Diggory boy. The one who died in the Triwizard Tournament.”

Remus sighs. “Nothing is ever easy for Harry, is it?”

“Maybe,” Sirius mumbles, seemingly to himself. “But when Harry finally snogs the girl he’s been pinning for so long—you would think he might mention something to me.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Remus can’t help his smirk. “You know you owe him the talk, right?”

Sirius flushes slightly. “It’s not his silence that’s upsetting,” he says haughtily, clearly determined to ignore the second part of what Remus told him. “But rather—do you remember when James and Lily finally snogged?” That familiar jolt of pain hits Remus; his smile is wistful as he nods. “James kept smiling so much that it looked as if he had overdosed on an Euphoria Elixir.”

“And he couldn’t stop babbling about it—it was three in the morning, and he was still gushing.”

“Yeah.” Sirius looks older for a moment, his gaze far away before he nods towards Harry. “Does Harry look remotely like James did?”

“I don’t know. He seems quite happy now.” And as to prove his point, Harry’s laugh echoes in the kitchen for a moment. The cards have exploded, drawing everyone’s attention, though neither Harry and Ginny seem to mind. They are chuckling, and even though his own face is painted with soot, Harry jumps to smooth the small flames over the tips of Ginny’s hair. 

“Exactly!” Sirius beacons him to come closer, his eyes shining with mischief. “And not because of this Cho Chang girl, but rather…”

Sirius’ voice drifts away, conspiratorially. It takes Remus a few seconds — during which, impatient, Sirius glances meaningfully at the place where Harry and Ginny are — before he understands.

“Harry and Ginny? They are friends.”

“So were James and Lily.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you forgetting the part where James made a fool of himself whenever Lily Evans was around?”

Sirius shrugs. “Things never happen twice the same way. In fact, rumour has it that Ginny used to have a massive crush on Harry.”

“Hmmm.” Remus considers this for a moment, before deciding it is no big secret. “This one is true, when I was her teacher, I saw how she acted whenever Harry was around… but I thought it was because of that Chamber of Secrets incident.” He shakes his head. The things Harry faced at Hogwarts…

“Very romantic, I guess. The hero saves the girl… and usually gets the girl.”

“I think the hero was too young then to care about these things.”

“And now he is older, but he doesn’t seem to be caring for the right person.”

Remus blinks. “Aren’t you being too judgemental? You have just heard about this girl.”

“I am judgmental, but not of Cho Chang. I’m judging Harry.”

“Who is acting as a teenager for once?”

“I just mean… I thought they would make a good couple. Harry and Ginny. They share the same slightly twisted sense of humour and they seem good together.”

Remus sips from his goblet, allowing himself some time to consider it. Harry and Ginny have split up now; while Ginny is chatting excitedly with Tonks and Hermione, Harry has joined Ron, but now and then he glances at Ginny’s back — fondly, not exactly romantic, but maybe there is a spark there, a seed that could grow. There had been some storm over Harry’s head during that Christmas break, something related to the vision of Arthur being attacked; that storm is gone now, and though Remus has no idea of what exactly unfolded, somehow he thinks it was because of Ginny Weasley.

“They would match,” he agrees, and then, because this is Sirius he’s talking to, he adds carefully, “but you shouldn’t meddle with them.”

“I would never,” Sirius rebuffs at once, but there is a mischief spark in his eyes, so alive, that Remus knows this isn’t the end of it.

“Sirius—”

“Speaking about match-making, don’t you think my cousin looks splendid tonight?”

The inevitable flush that floods his cheeks is enough to make Remus change the subject.

He isn’t really surprised to find out, a couple hours later, that Sirius has cornered Harry as they clean up the last remains of supper. 

“How are things at Hogwarts? Any good news?”

Harry seems taken aback. “You know how things are,” he says, looking at Sirius as if he’s considering his godfather lost his mind. Remus winces, then unsuccessfully tries to get Sirius’ attention.

“I was thinking about things you might not mention in a letter or during a fireplace call, like… Maybe some romance in the air?”

Smoothness, Remus considers, was never Sirius’ strength. Harry flushes a deep red, all his attention in drying the dishes as if his life depends upon it.

“Er—okay. Not anything worth mentioning, just the same.”

“The same,” repeats Sirius slowly. Perhaps he senses that Harry is ready to run — his eyes have shifted to the door a couple times as if he is considering how many steps he needs to be away from there — because Sirius suddenly smiles. “You know, your father never had eyes for anyone but your mother.”

Harry’s eyes open. “Really?”

“Really.” Sirius looks only encouraged. “Now, James was a popular guy, a Quidditch hero, had a great sense of humor, and of course an amazing taste in his best friend, so there were girls chasing after him, but he never cared for anyone else. And he was right, because he and Lily… they were just perfect, destined to be together.”

There’s a dreamy expression on Harry’s face. Remus knows Harry is away thirsty for any information he might receive from his parents, so he may just be considering this new piece of the puzzle that are his parents. But as he drifts, destined or not, Harry’s gaze seems to fall on the corner where Ginny is now sitting by herself, playing with the cat.

And Sirius, bless him, notices it. He barely contains a grin.

“So, you get what I mean, right? When you find the one, you know you did. Someone with whom you really connect, someone who makes you laugh, who gets you. You don’t waste your time snogging anyone else…”

Harry blinks, suddenly pulled back to Earth. “Snogging?” His gaze is suspicious. “Who said anything about me… snogging?”

“No one. This is not the point, I just—”

“It’s late, I should get some sleep.” Harry glances helplessly at Remus, who nods.

“We’ll leave for St Mungo’s early tomorrow,” he agrees.

“Right.” Sirius looks as flustered as Harry does. “But Harry—you understood what I said? About the one—”

“Yes, yes.” Now Harry is almost at the door. “Good night!”

Remus gives him a few seconds before shaking his head at Sirius. “You should not have—”

“I just did what I am sure James and Lily would like me to do. They would adore Ginny.” The mischief is back on Sirius’ eyes. “Speaking of—I heard Ginny might be dating someone, I think she needs a piece of advice as well.”

“Fred and George have mentioned her Bat Bogey Hex—” But Sirius is not listening to him anymore, already crossing the room. Remus sighs as he sits to watch the scene; he supposes he could use a last laugh before going to bed.

[the-mandawhor1an]

My favorite pillow - Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader drabble

disclaimer: the picture above is to set the mood, you can imagine reader to look however you want

Tags: Safe for work! Established relationship; Joel is riddled with guilt; lots of cuddling; pet names;  reader’s gender isn’t specified but they have boobs; Reader is basically Joel’s plushie; angst! and fluff; one allusion to sex but it’s tame I swear

Synopsis: Joel feels the weight of guilt clouding his mind one evening. You feel the weight of him over you, trying to soothe his worries. 

Words: 900

A/N: Unbeta'd; The teaser trailer is to blame here. also, thank @djarins-wife for screaming at me in the DMs after the trailer dropped and motivating me to turn this: 

“I need him. on top of me, engulfed in a death grip cuddle, head on my chest and I can play with his hair and he tells me about all of his worries 😭”

into a drabble

Divider as always by @saradika-graphics

It’s an evening like any other, you think. Things have been a bit different since Joel and Ellie returned, but today seems to be a particularly bad day for him. You had dinner and now you’re in bed, cuddled into his side while he draws small circles on your back. As much as you want to fall asleep and feel yourself drift off, something about Joel bothers you. The way his digits brush over your skin, his breathing that is steady but somehow labored. 

You lift your heavy eyelids and nuzzle more into his chest. “Joel?” you ask him gently. He answers with a “Mh?” but his voice cracks. Carefully, you sit up straight and detach from his warm body. The barely lit room doesn’t offer much for you to see, but his head is faced away from you. “Joel, look at me. What’s going on?” 

After a short while of hesitation, he faces you. The moonlight enters the room just right for you to see some tears sparkling in his eyes. Your heart aches. What could worry him so much that he would lie there in silence and just… hurt? 

“Baby what’s wrong?” you ask again and gently place a hand on his heart. “Nothin’, I’m fine,” he tries to brush you off. With a tilted head you shoot him a more prying look in hopes to make him tell you.  

With a sigh you lie down on your back and pat on your chest. “C’mere big boy, tell me what’s bothering you.” He sighs deeply himself and turns over. Two giant hands bury under your back as he rests his body on top of you. His head lands on your chest, his torso presses you into the mattress. 

“I don’t understand why I feel so awful about saving Ellie…” he begins. You place one hand on his back, the other on his head to dip your fingers into the silver-brown curls. You play with his hair as he closes his eyes. 

“Well, what goes through your head when you think about it?” you ask. 

“I – I don’t know,” he sighs. “When Marlene told me Ellie would die in the process, I just saw red.” You feel him tense up as the memories replay in his mind. He pulls himself closer into your embrace. “She could’a saved the world but that means I would lose her.” You feel his chest press into yours as his breathing becomes heavier. 

“I can’t lose her, I can’t let go. Fuck,” he starts sobbing, every little hiccup hurts you, not physically but emotionally. “I couldn’t lose another daughter. Sarah was my baby and I was unable to protect her,” he continues as you feel his tears on your skin. You caress his back and keep combing your fingers through his hair, but you stay silent.  

“I thought… having gotten used to this shithole of a world would make it easier for me to look after Ellie. I failed. She’ll hate me for lying to her.” You bend your neck to place a kiss on the top of his hair. “She’ll leave when she finds out. When she realizes I wasn’t strong enough to let her go, to sacrifice herself for a fuckin’ maybe.” 

It’s obvious it weighs him down, it destroys him. You let him cry in your arms, not doing much beside gently running your fingers along his scalp. If he needs to get all of that out, you want him to feel safe to do so. Joel isn’t one to show emotions like this often, he feels like it makes him appear weak. He can be weak with you, vulnerable. 

After a few minutes of Joel just sobbing into your chest, his breathing steadies and he finds his voice again. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess and an awful father.” You shake your head. “Stop it, you’re neither. You did what any father would do, protect his child.” “I hope she sees it the same way.” 

Your fingers trail down to his face and you caress his cheek. “Will you tell her?” “Maybe one day, I don’t know” With an unsteady sigh that still reminds you of his sobbing, he nuzzles into you once again. 

“Am I too heavy?” he asks. It’s like he just now realizes that he’s been lying on you for the last minutes. “It’s fine,” you remind him with a smug expression. “Ain’t the first time you’re on top of me.” His face turns toward you, an equally smug grin on his. “Won’t be the last either, Sugar.” 

“Does that mean you feel better, Baby?” You ask hesitantly. If he’s up for joking he has to feel somewhat okay. “Think so. Keep forgettin’ how good cuddling feels,” he murmurs. “I love it when you hug me like a pillow,” you tell him. And he does indeed hug his pillows like that. It was amusing when you saw him nestled into it like that for the first time. 

“You’re my favorite pillow,” he nods. “Well, right now you’re not really pillowed by anything,” you comment. Technically, his head rests on your sternum, his face is almost buried in one of your boobs. 

“My face is,” he grumbles into your breast and places a kiss on your skin. “Okay, okay,” you sigh. “All better?” 

“All better.” 

“Do you want to stay like this?” 

“If I may.” 

“Of course you do.” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too, Baby.” 

[bruisedboys]

could you do anakin looking after you while ur drunk or high 🫠

hi honey yes I absolutely can!! sorry for any inaccuracies in this, I don’t drink and I actually have not watched a star wars movie in months 😭

anakin skywalker x fem!reader

“Give me a kiss,” you say. ‘Demand’ would be the more accurate word. Anakin’s eyes blow wide.

“What?” He asks through a startled laugh, more shocked than anything. You’ve been home all of thirty seconds and you’re already all over him. He’s never trusting Ahsoka with you again, he decides.

“A kiss,” you say again, like it’s obvious. You tilt your chin up towards him, chest flush with his. “I want one. Please?”

Anakin blinks. “Sure,” he says, properly dumbfounded. He leans down and kisses you. The taste of liquor on your mouth is strong. Your lips are sticky and warm.

You make a pleased humming noise against his mouth and screw your fingers into his collar. Anakin has to pull back lest he get carried away. You chase his lips, eyes half lidded. When you realise the kiss is over, they blink open as if your eyelashes have been glued together.

“You taste like a minibar,” Anakin tells you fondly. He slides his hands from your shoulders to your elbows. “How much did you have to drink exactly?”

Your brows furrow and your nose scrunches. “Don’t know. Not that much. Like, five?”

“Five what?” Anakin asks, a bit horrified.

Your face scrunches even more, like the effort of remembering is gruelling. A few seconds pass and then,

“I can’t remember,” you admit, forlorn.

Anakin rolls his eyes. You’re hopeless. He’s going to have a word with you in the morning about limits. Admittedly, he should’ve talked to you before you left with Ahsoka, but he was too distracted by your pretty going-out outfit. It’s all rumpled now, and your hair’s falling out, but you’re still the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Right,” he says, half amused and half exasperated. “Well, how about I get you some water, hm? You look like you could use something that’s not laced with alcohol.”

You don’t answer, but you also don’t protest as he guides you over to the sofa. ‘Guides’ is being generous. He’s practically carrying you. He doesn’t mind, even though you’re dead weight in his arms. He sits you down and goes to move away but you cling to him, your hands hot at his hips.

“Y/N,” he says, exasperated. He’s glad you’re half-cut so you don’t notice how much your needy touching affects him. “C’mon, trouble. Let me go.”

You pout at him. “Can I have another kiss?” You ask, looking awfully hopeful. He’s sure you’re making your eyes like that on purpose, all shiny and pretty, nothing short of captivating.

“After you’ve had some water,” he promises, practicing some restraint for both your sakes. He covers your hands with his and eases them off his hips. “Sit pretty, okay?” He leans over and cups your warm cheek briefly. “I’ll be back.”

You give him a sticky sweet smile as he leaves. He fills a glass for you with cold water and ice in the kitchen. When he returns you’re exactly how he left you, if not somehow prettier.

“Here, sweetheart,” he says, handing you your water. He keeps a hand under your glass while you drink, worried you’ll drop it, but you’re very careful and you finish half the glass in a few big gulps.

When you’re done smile at him, lips shiny with condensation. “Kiss now?” You ask adorably.

Anakin gives in. He can’t say no when you’re asking like that. He bends at the waist to kiss you, one hand under your chin, one making sure you don’t drop your drink. You respond with startling enthusiasm, pushing up into his kiss eagerly, your hands grabbing at his waist and pulling him between your legs. Anakin laughs like mad and draws back.

“Sweetheart,” he says, chiding. He holds one hand to your cheek to stop you from continuing your chase for his mouth. “Don’t.”

You frown around his palm. “Why not?”

“You’re really quite drunk, if you haven’t noticed,” he tells you, amused and lovesick at the same time. He drags a line down your jaw with his thumb. “Do you have a headache, honey?”

You shake your head viciously. Anakin thinks if you didn’t have a headache before he asked, you probably do now.

“No,” you say primly.

Anakin hums. You’ll have one in the morning, probably. Though he hopes if he can get enough water in you tonight it’ll hopefully make things better for you when you wake up tomorrow.

He tucks some of your hair behind your ear where it’s come loose. The smile you give him in return is blinding.

“Finish your water, sweet girl,” he says, fonder than fond. “Then I’ll help you get changed and we can go to bed, how does that sound?”

You make a pleased sound as you bring your glass to your mouth. Anakin can guess well enough what it means.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 [𝟏]

pairing. albedo x reader, xiao x reader, thoma x reader

word count. 1.9k

genre/warnings. prompt-based drabbles, royal!au, college!au, just some nice romance hehe

𝟏. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝐚𝐦

“Your Highness, it’s rare to see you awake at this hour.”

Albedo bows hurriedly when you swing the heavy wooden door open, and you wave a dismissive hand; you’d told him to stop bowing to you years ago, and he still couldn’t cut the habit. Archons know it’ll be longer before he can stop calling you by a royal title.

“I had some trouble sleeping. I hope you don’t mind if I accompany you for a bit, Albedo.”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the spread of notebooks, test tubes, and various gadgets on the table, as if any of it would mean something to you. “I was just doing a bit of light experimentation. Nothing dangerous, so you’re welcome to stay.”

You pull up a stool at his side, one that he’d placed there specifically for your presence—it’s rare that anyone else visits him down here, after all. Since you were a child, you’d always had a fascination with this room, the royal lab, and it happened to be the place Albedo usually inhabited as the former royal alchemist’s pupil. You’d become fast friends.

The silence is comfortable for a few minutes. Albedo tinkers with a few things, takes some notes, and you simply watch. Crickets chirp outside the darkened windows. It’s how it’s always been.

Your eyes fall on a small burn mark on the wall that’s clumsily covered in paint. “Do you remember when we made that?” you ask, pointing out the blemish. Albedo looks up in surprise; you’re usually not one to converse when you keep him company. “I thought mixing a few chemicals couldn’t go too wrong. That was quite a mess to clean up.”

It was a common pattern when you were younger—you would make the mess, and Albedo would fix it. He was always smarter and a bit more mature than you, and as you grew up together, it remained that way.

“You were quite the troublemaker,” he says, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips, “I was shocked that someone so hot-headed could ever hope to lead the kingdom.”

“What do you think of me, Albedo?”

It’s so abrupt that the question catches him off guard, hand slipping and drawing an ugly line through his notes. He struggles to control his breath. What does he think of you? It’s surely not his place to tell the truth in that regard; he’s lucky your parents had even allowed the two of you to be friends, much less what he actually wants. He gulps down the lump in his throat, trying to appear unfazed.

“If you’re asking me as a royal, then I would say that it’s been an honor to serve as an alchemist under your name. I look forward to doing more work to advance this kingdom, and I know you have a bright future as our ruler.”

A completely textbook answer.

He looks away too fast to be natural, hands already busying themselves with something else to prevent himself from saying too much. It seems you’ve hit a nerve, but that was also your intention all along.

Rising from your seat, you approach his side hesitantly, sliding your fingers over the pile of notebooks on the table—endless knowledge, most of which you likely wouldn’t understand. Albedo has always been a culmination of things you don’t understand, but you want to.

The truth is, you can’t imagine yourself loving anyone except him.

“And if I wasn’t asking as a royal?” He flinches, clearly not expecting you to continue this line of questioning. “If I asked you as me and me alone, how would you answer?”

Albedo turns to you, then, eyes dimming in the low light of the lab. He looks vulnerable, though he fights to keep his expression even. His voice is barely audible, a breathless whisper for your ears alone.

“If you were asking me as you and you alone,” he repeats, inhaling deeply for courage, “I’d say I’ve learned that sometimes, the discovery only leads to more questions.”

His gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment, then shoots back up to your eyes. The room suddenly feels much warmer than before. “And there are many more things I’d like to find out about you, if you’d allow me.”

𝟐. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡

You don’t know how you ended up this way. Well, you do, but you aren’t sure why it ended up this way.

College parties, as far as you’re aware, are supposed to be red solo cups and loud music, waking up the next day with hangovers and 8am classes. They’d been right about the red solo cups, but having one in Xiangling’s hands meant trouble.

“Let’s play Seven Minutes in Heaven,” she had slurred, a lazy smile on her lips as she stumbled around the room. You groaned as you caught her by the arm, just before she crashed into the vase in the corner.

“Xiangling, we’re in college, not high school. And I don’t think you’re in any condition to be doing anything except sleeping.”

Of course, there was no saying no to Xiangling about anything, which is how you ended up stuffed in a closet with Xiao.

It’s painfully awkward at first, dead silence with your limbs tangled together in the small space. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, out of fear of saying something stupid.

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Xiao for a very long time now. It had started when he tutored you in your freshman year chemistry class, and since you had a mutual friend group, you began to see him a lot more often. He was kinder than he let on, albeit a bit rough around the edges, but you liked that about him—at least, you thought you did.

Sometime a few months ago, something had changed. He stopped entertaining your conversations, stopped answering your texts, just stopped. You’d been struggling to move on since then, since it was painfully obvious that your feelings were not returned.

“Are you drunk?” you ask shyly, just trying to fill the silence. He chuckles humorlessly.

“Not even a little. I wish I was, maybe I could get the image of Zhongli dancing out of my head.”

You laugh in response, slowly tapering off when he says nothing. It makes you feel a bit guilty that he got stuck in here with you.

“Xiao, listen, I’m sorry that it was my name you picked,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “I just—”

“Just don’t move,” he hisses through his teeth, jaw grinding with impatience. You frown in the darkness.

“Listen, if you didn’t want to do this, you didn’t have to play the stupid game. I think we’re all old enough that we can speak for ourselves—”

“That’s not it.”

“Wow, it’d be really cool if you’d let me finish my sente—”

“I just didn’t want you doing this with anyone else. I think I’d rather die than see someone like Childe disappear into this stupid closet with you.”

“I just think it’s a little ru—wait, what?”

Xiao sighs, seemingly a bit frustrated with himself. He understands that you’re unhappy with him, but he can’t find the words to say. Coming to terms with his feelings for you had been difficult, and since then, he’s been avoiding admitting to them. After all, what could someone like you see in someone like him?

“I’m sorry,” he says to start. That’s the one thing he’s sure about. “I know I’ve been rude lately. That’s my fault.”

“Well, yeah,” you grumble, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes, but continues anyway.

“I know everything I’ve done says otherwise, but…I like you. I have for a while, maybe since I met you.” He grits his teeth, feeling totally uncomfortable and out of his element. Some things are necessary though, he reasons, and you’re definitely worth it. “So I’m sorry for being an ass. Please don’t hate me. If you hate me, then just tell me, because then I’ll—”

The sound of Xiangling’s voice echoes from outside. “Ten seconds left, lovebirds!”

Xiao sighs. He’s out of time.

There’s a lot of things he could say, should say, but he settles for this: 

“If you hate me, then just tell me,” he repeats, searching for your eyes in the darkness. He finds them for a moment, wide and soft. “Because then I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.”

The door swings open.

𝟑. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲

Thoma takes a deep breath as he waits on the busy street, the townspeople chattering in excitement about the upcoming festival. The Commission had done endless work to organize this, he knows, and that should be an object of his anxiety as well, but all he can think about is you.

Being a fixer, he’s never been a stranger to social interaction. He probably speaks to hundreds of people, and it’s all in a day’s work. Of course, hundreds of people don’t make his heart race and palms sweat whenever he sees them, that’s a feature unique only to you.

Even asking you to accompany him to the festival had been quite an ordeal. Ayaka commented that she had never seen him so shaken in her life, and she was probably right; he’d rehearsed the conversation by himself for days. You’d accepted without complaint, kind as you are, but now comes the real issue: actually going to the festival with you.

Still, you look so excited when you wave to him from the end of the street that he can’t help but smile as well. His nervousness dissipates as soon as you’re right in front of him—you’re too bright to focus on anything else.

“Where to first? I hope you have a good tour for me,” you say teasingly, taking him by the arm. He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I know all the best places.”

The two of you enjoy the festival together. A few people stop Thoma for a short conversation, a knowing twinkle in their eyes when they see you by his side. It’s no secret that he’s quite fond of you, though you don’t seem to notice. He’s okay with that for now; it’d been hard enough to ask you here, much less to ask you to be his.

As you pass the merchant booths, a bracelet of Sango Pearls catches your eye, and Thoma doesn’t hesitate to purchase it for you. You thank him endlessly, sliding it over your wrist, but his face morphs into confusion when you ask the merchant for another one. He knows fashion quite well, and he’s aware that stacking bracelets is indeed a thing, but wouldn’t it do you better to stack different—

His breath hitches when you grasp his hand, soft skin sliding against his, the newly purchased bracelet settling against his wrist.

Oh.

“Beautiful,” you remark, smiling softly, pearls reflecting in your eyes. His heart jumps, but he masks it with a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“We should go,” he says, trying to draw attention away from the blush on his cheeks. “I know a good spot to watch the fireworks show.”

It’s the perfect end to the night. Naganohara Fireworks never fails to impress; Thoma makes a mental note to thank Yoimiya later. You seem to enjoy it too, lips parted slightly in awe, hands clutched tightly to your chest. The fireworks are as stunning as they are loud; pops and crackles of light boom across the night sky, a wonder for your eyes to witness.

Thoma thinks the Shogun might be right about eternity; he wishes this moment would never end.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he whispers.

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 9/10 | Paige Bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige start to heal

word count: 1.5k

masterlist w/ all parts

It was 2 AM when you finally returned to the hotel room. You’d hung out with some of the girls until they announced that Paige was coming, and then you’d mumbled something about needing to finish up some work and went to a coffee shop. Once the baristas started giving you strange looks, you went to a nearby bar, nursing a Sprite and your feelings in the corner of the room.

You were wasting away time, hoping Paige would be sound asleep by the time you returned to the hotel room. You couldn’t force yourself to face her. It would be easier just to ignore everything and creep into the room in the wee hours of morning.

Except when you tiptoed into the room, Paige was sitting on the bed. There was a low murmur from the NBA game playing on the TV, and she was faced towards it, but the distant look in her eyes told you that she wasn’t paying any attention to it at all.

You swallowed, letting the door close. Paige lurched up and when her eyes fell on you, it was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. “Where were you?” She scrambled off the bed, but didn’t make a move towards me. “I thought something happened.”

“I was just out,” you mumbled, tossing your purse on the counter and slumping on the armchair.

“You can’t just do that.” Paige’s chest heaved. She was close now, and you coud see the dark circles rimming her eyes. Her hair was in a messy ponytail but she looked as beautiful as ever. “You can’t just disappear and not tell anyone. I was calling the rest of the girls but no one was responding because they’re all asleep, and I was getting freaked out.”

A wave of guilt washed over you. To be honest, you hadn’t thought that Paige had cared enough to wonder about your whereabouts. But she’d stayed up, when she was usually in bed by 10, and she’d been worrying her mind over you.

“Are you okay?” Paige asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

You didn’t answer, resting your head on one of the pillows on the couch. “Listen, I know we agreed earlier to sleep on the bed, but if you’re still upset then I can take the ground. It’s really not a big deal,” she stammered out in a rush, looking down at her feet.

At this point, you were exhausted. The overwhelming noise of the bar had given you a pounding headache, and all you wanted to do was sleep. You stood up, slightly swaying, and Paige reached to steady you, but she stopped herself, drawing her hands back to her chest.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you finally responded. “It doesn’t matter, Paige. I’m really tired. Let’s just go to sleep, okay?”

She nodded, following you with careful eyes as you made your way to the bed. She turned off the lights and gingerly sat on the edge. “You sure?” she asked one more time.

You closed your eyes, slowly breathing out. “Paige.”

“Okay, okay.” She pulled the covers over her body and you both laid there, staring at the ceiling.

For what seemed like hours, you stayed like that, not even bothering to close your eyes. Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep, and neither could Paige.

“Y/N?” She whispered. You clamped your mouth shut, wondering what she would say if she thought you were asleep. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be this close to you and can’t not explain myself. If you’re asleep then whatever, I guess this is practice, but if you’re awake, you don’t have to say anything if I can keep going but…” she trailed off, seeming to be gathering her thoughts.

“I know there’s no excuse for the way I treated you. The things I said. Every day I wake up and regret everything that happened.” She audibly swallowed. “But I need you to know that I didn’t say those things because I didn’t want you. Because fuck, I did. I do. I was just so scared. And I was a pussy, so instead of being mature and dealing it with it head on, I ran away.”

You didn’t know what to say yet, but you shifted your head against the pillow so Paige would know that you were listening.

“I didn’t think I was good enough for you. You were my best friend. You told me everything you wanted, how you wanted to settle down with someone nice and have kids and everything. And knowing who I was, how many other girls I’ve accidentally hurted, I didn’t trust myself to not hurt you too.” Her breaths were shaky now, and you could tell that she was doing that thing where she was trying not to cry. Your heart ached, and it took everything in you not to reach over and touch her.

“I woke up the next morning, and I felt like such a horrible person. That I’d taken advantage of you.” She was crying now, sobs racking her body. She sounded so wrecked, so hurt that when you closed your eyes, tears slipped down your cheeks too.

“I don’t even know how those words came out of me. None of it was true. I hope you know that. And I know I hurt you really bad. But I swear on my life that’s something I’ll try to never do again, if you’ll take me back.” You felt the bed shift as Paige wiped her eyes with her arm. “And I totally get it if you want nothing to do with me ever again. But I’m fucking selfish, and I want to be around you.”

You gasped, tears flowing freely now. The hole in your heart was widening, threatening to eat you alive. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you, telling you to roll around and assure her that everything would be okay.

“This past year has been hell. I miss getting ice cream with you and I miss seeing you at my basketball games and I miss seeing you hang out with Drew and being so good to him. I miss the way you laugh and the way you look in my clothes. I miss you.”

You sat upright. Paige sat up too, surprise in her eyes. The moonlight filtering in through the window was bright enough for you to just make out her features - the wrinkle in her forehead from the downturn of her eyebrows, the redness of her eyes and her lashes coated with wetness, the fullness of her lips, the slant of her jaw. How did she still manage to look so beautiful like this?

“Y/N?” she said softly.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips against hers. She gasped, before she laced her fingers through your hair, pulling you closer. You were on top of her now, straddling her lap, your legs wrapped around her waist.

After a few moments, she pushed you away. Her eyes were half lidden. “Wait,” she panted. “I don’t want to-,”

“You don’t want to what? Kiss me?” You said, peppering kisses down her jawline.

“Y/N, no. God,” she said. Her grip on your waist was tight, the veins in her neck flexing. “I want to, you know I do. But I don’t want this to end up with just sex and have it complicate things even further.”

You stopped kissing her, instead leaning your head into her neck, breathing in her familiar scent that you had missed all too much. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay?” Paige leaned down, bringing you with her. You were lying half on top of her, and you were so comfortable that you didn’t want to move, but you didn’t want to suffocate her. “If I’m getting heavy, let me know and-”

“No, fuck. This is perfect,” she interrupted, reassuring you.

You tilted your head up to look at her, and her eyes softened. You realized that you’d started crying again when she brought her thumb up to wipe at the tears on your cheeks.

You buried your head back in the crook of her neck, allowing yourself to release all your worries and soak in her presence. She ran her fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp in the same way she’s done so many times before. “You’re okay,” she murmured, soothing you to sleep.

[tasteleeknow]

º.☆・ ⇢ HURT/COMFORT WITH SKZ

genre: fluff, angst. content warnings: insecurities, depression, jealousy, fear of the dark, accidental injury, minor illness, alcohol use, driving anxiety word count: 4.6k (500 each)

a/n: my first ot8 post as a little thank you for 2k! i appreciate you so much both for reading and leaving feedback. hope you enjoy this too!

CHAN — his insecurities are getting to him

“But…you said we could go today…” you mutter, struggling to keep the disappointment from your voice. You’d been looking forward to this day all week. Your boyfriend had promised you’d finally go to the art exhibition in the city. It would be ending soon and then it would be gone forever. 

Your boyfriend looks up from where he is hunched over his desk, where he had been scribbling something in a notebook. “I just can’t today.” 

“Is it work?” 

He looks back at the paper, pen halted. “No.” 

“What’s so important that it has to be done today?” 

“Go with Hyunjin instead.” 

You take a step back, caught off guard. “What?”

“Hyunjin likes art, I’m sure he’d be stoked to go with you.” 

You instinctively look down at your phone, having just texted your roommate minutes earlier. “Yeah, he probably would. But I want to go with you.” 

Chan stands from his desk, keeping his back to you. You watch as he fiddles with his pen for a moment before dropping it and finally turning to face you. “Do you really?”

You frown, walking over to him and adjusting his necklace where it had twisted around his neck. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want to do something with my boyfriend?” 

He’s quiet for a moment.. Most of the time he just speaks, letting whatever he was thinking out—no filters or barriers. You loved him for it, for speaking his mind so freely. These moments when he was clearly preparing his words before voicing them are rare, so you wait. You wait, knowing he was taking a moment to gather his thoughts and that any interruption would throw him off track. 

“Do you ever wonder if someone else would be better for you? If we don’t…click as well as we should?” he finally says, eyes cast down. 

You drop your hands from his necklace, the one you’d gifted for his previous birthday. “No,” you answer without hesitation. “Do you?” 

“Can you…think about it for a moment… before answering. It’s important.” 

“I don’t need to think about it. I’m being honest. I’ve never wondered that and I’ve never had any doubts about you. About us.” You watch as his brows draw together, clearly lost in thought again. “Have you?” you ask him again. 

“I wonder…if someone like Hyunjin might make you happier.” 

You glance at the desk, where the notebook lays open—his scribbled handwriting filling the page. “Have you been feeling bad again?” you ask. 

He looks over his shoulder, following your eyeline. He takes a step back to close the book. You step up to him, trailing your hand up his chest to rest over his heart. “It’s okay, I wasn’t trying to read it. I just…want you to tell me when you’re feeling bad. So I can be here for you.” 

He takes a step away from you, your hand dropping from his chest. “But that’s the problem. I’m always having these episodes; days where I don’t want to leave the house or where I feel so low I feel like I bring you down with me.” 

“Why are you writing?” you ask, a flicker of panic crossing his face at your question. “I’m not asking what you’re writing. Just why you’re doing it.” 

“Because…it…makes it better. Helps.”

“You’re working on it. You’re doing things you’ve been taught will help you get better and that’s why it’s not a problem. You love me and I love you and we are working on ways to be better people because we love each other. Right?” 

“I do… want to be better for you,” he says, pressing his own hand over his heart. 

“And for you?”

A small smile crosses his lips. “And for me.” 

You match his smile, stepping close so you can wrap your arms around him. “I love you now and I’ll love you when you love yourself too.” His arms tighten around you. “I can’t wait,” you finish. 

MINHO — you’re afraid of the dark

“400,” you announce, grinning at your boyfriend across the table.

A grumble of thunder distracts his attention to the window behind you before he looks at you again. “Why the fuck is it 400?”

“I own all 4,” you say, pointing to your monopoly cards.

“This game is stupid.”

“It was invented as a critique of landlords and capitalism, it’s meant to be stupid.”

“Be a nice landlord and give me a free pass.”

“No. Pay up.”

He grumbles, slapping the money in your palm just as your apartment goes dark. You yelp, dropping the paper money and reaching blindly across the table until you feel your boyfriends arm.

“Blackout,” he says, stating the obvious. He stands from the table before you have a proper grip, leaving you stranded. You stand, feeling around the table for him.

“Where are you? Minho?”

“Just getting my phone,” he replies, already sounding much too far away.

You reach out into the darkness, relying purely on your memory of your apartment to navigate. “Come back, please. Minho! Please.”

“Boo,” he whispers, right at your side. You grip his arm, too relieved to be mad at him for attempting to make you jump. The screen from his phone lights up his face, then he turns on his torch.

“I’m gonna find some candles, you wanna stay here?”

“No.”

“I can get your phone? Won’t be dark.”

“Wanna come.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Poor baby.”

“Shut up.”

You keep your arm on his as he leads you through to the kitchen, standing right by him as he crouches down to dig through a drawer. You hold the torch for him until he stands, holding a few candles and a matchbox.

“Where do you wanna set up camp? Are we finishing the game?”

You shake your head.

“Bath?” he suggests.

“In the dark?”

He holds the candles up. “Come on.”

He leads you to the bathroom and you’re forced to let go of him as he sets up the candles and leans into the tub to turn the water on. You turn to look behind you occasionally, the pitch black hallway making you feel uneasy.

Minho’s breath tickles your neck as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Would you like help?” he asks, fingers moving to fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

You look up at the dark doorway. “Could you... shut that?”

He kisses your cheek then moves around you to shut the door as you pull your clothes off. The room is barely lit, the reflection of the candles in the mirror making the small bathroom seem much bigger. He pulls his shirt over his head as he approaches you.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you. Yeah?” You nod and he leans around you to turn the water off. “Hop in.”

You lower yourself into the warm water, watching as your boyfriend removes the rest of his clothes. You shuffle aside to make room as he joins you, lying back so his head rests on the soft neck rest you’d bought him for christmas. He hold his arms up, beckoning you onto him. “C’mere.”

You climb over him, pressing your chest against his and resting your head on his shoulder—just above the waterline. His arms wrap around you.

“Good?” he asks.

You close your eyes, surrounded by warmth. The darkness feels far away. “Mm, good.” 

CHANGBIN — he accidentally hurts you

It was an old injury, so old you’d only ever mentioned it in passing once. You’d get a twinge in your wrist occasionally but apart from that, you practically forgot about it yourself. That’s why when your boyfriend challenges you to an arm wrestle, you don’t hesitate to say yes. You were equally competitive, you challenged each other to silly little games constantly. 

“You’re not gonna let me win?” 

“Have I ever?” 

“Fair.” You settle yourself over the counter, opposite him. He presses his palm to the smooth surface, offering an example for you to mirror. He grasps your hand in his, pulling you over the counter a little more so he can press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Ok, ready,” he says, allowing you to resume your starting position. 

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing over his shoulder with your free hand. As soon as he turns his head you start, pulling with all your strength. You manage to get him halfway down to the counter before he stops you, easily turning the tables. He puts more strength into it than he needs to, thrown off by your headstart. A sharp pain runs up your arm as your hand slams into the counter. 

You pull your hand back to your chest, cradling it against your body as you scrunch your eyes shut—waiting for the pain to dull. It’ll pass, it’ll pass… you repeat to yourself. A soft touch on your shoulder alerts you to the fact Changbin has moved around the counter to your side. “Just a sec,” you mutter, unable to speak properly until the pain has dulled. 

“Let me see,” he says, sounding stoic. He sounds so calm that you’re completely caught off guard when you look up at him and see his eyes watery. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him cry. It’s so shocking it distracts you entirely from the now dull wrist pain. 

You let him lift your hand gently as you watch his face. “Can you move it?” he says, inspecting your skin as if tracking down the source of your pain would remedy it. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just that old injury flaring up.” You pull your hand from him easily, the hold he has on you so gentle it offers no resistance. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

You lift his chin with your fingers, his gaze pointed towards the floor. “Was just karma for trying to cheat,” you say, a small smile on your face as you attempt to lighten the mood. 

It doesn’t work, your boyfriend's eyes fix on your wrist—his eyes reminding you of a kicked puppy. You give him no warning when you jump on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands come to support you naturally, a reflexive response to the way you’d greet him every day. 

“Wasn’t your fault,” you mumble against his neck. “I’d forgotten about it too, honestly. S’okay.” 

“Does it still hurt?” 

You pull back from him enough to hold the inside of your wrist up to his mouth. His eyes flick between yours, confused for a moment. Then he brings his lips to your skin, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist. 

“Not anymore,” you whisper, offering him a small smile before replacing your wrist with your lips—pressing lightly against his. 

HYUNJIN — he thinks you don’t love him as much as he loves you

Your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic. You loved that about him, truly. The only problem was when you felt like you struggled to meet his expectations; when you didn’t express your love in a way that fit with his love language. He would wilt. 

“Jinnie? Please talk to me,” you encourage, lifting the blanket from your boyfriend's head. He rolls over to face the wall, ignoring you. You sigh, lying down next to him—resting your hands under your head as you stare at his back. 

“It’s okay,” he says, still facing the wall. “I love you more than you love me, I just have to…accept it.” 

You reach to grab his shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back so you can crawl over him. You stroke his forehead gently, brushing away a non-existent lock of hair—a habit you hadn’t yet abandoned since he’d cut his hair short. “Stop saying that, it hurts me.” 

His brows pull together as his plush lips press together firmly. “You said you needed space.” 

“Yes, that is what I said. I didn’t say ‘I love you less than you love me’.” 

He looks confused but he shifts a little, bringing his hands up to rest against your thighs. “I’ve never wanted space from you. I want you always.” 

His cheeks are rosy and you can’t help brushing your thumbs across them, cradling his face in your hands. “If I had to see anyone else as much as I see you, I’d lose my mind. It’s because I love you so much that I ask for my own space so rarely,” you finish. 

“Do I bother you? Is that why you asked?” 

“Sometimes anything external irritates me. Anything. My clothes on my skin, a notification on my phone. I just need to be alone sometimes, completely. No notifications, no sound, no other person. Even you. Even though you’re my favourite person ever.” 

“Ever?”

“Ever, ever,” you smile, moving one of your thumbs to brush over his lips. You pull his bottom lip down gently, he’s much more relaxed now. “We are different people, hm? It’d be boring if we were exactly the same.” 

“Mm,” he agrees, pulling you down against him. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart as you rise and fall gently with his breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Sometimes…I get…scared that you could never feel…as much as I do. So one day you’ll just…have had enough of me and because I know that won’t happen for me…it feels like…a clock is ticking down.” 

“You have to trust me. If you really love me, you’ll trust me when I tell you how I feel. I promise I’ll always be honest, hm?” 

“Yeah,” he says, the vibration of his voice in his chest against your ear. 

“I promise I love you,” you say, lifting your head to whisper against his lips. 

“I promise I love you, too.” 

JISUNG — takes care of you when you’re drunk

You stumble up the steps, fiddling with your keys as your friend drives away. You drop them just as the door opens, stumbling forward into Jisungs arms as you lose your balance trying to bend down. He catches you, holding you upright until you're steady. Then he bends down, snatching the keys and poking his head out to look down the street. 

“Where’s your friend?” 

You smile. “Left.” 

He frowns. “Before I opened the door?” 

You reach out to stroke his hair. “You look so cute when you’re worried.” You kick your shoes off, stumbling into your apartment until you find the couch. “What time is it?” you mumble, struggling not to fall sideways and sleep right there in the living room. 

Your roommate drops the keys in the little box near the door before following you, dropping to his knees at your feet. You reach to pet his head again. “You’re a good friend,” you slur, giggling when he frowns. He lets you pull the corners of his mouth up into a smile then he stands, holding his hand out to help you up. 

“Bed,” he says, grunting a little as he pulls you up—your legs practically jelly. You fall into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder. You almost fall asleep just trying to walk to your room, collapsing onto your bed the second Jisung releases you. You close your eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness as Jisung moves around the room. 

He’s leaning over you, trying to touch your face. “Sleep,” you mumble, attempting to push his hand away. He holds your hand down on the bed. 

“Just let me clean this off, yeah?” he says, attempting to wipe the makeup off your face. You relent, going limp to let him work. 

“Sungie?” 

“Mm?”

“You’re a good friend.” 

“You’re completely off your head,” he laughs. “Will you remember this tomorrow?” 

“Maaaybe.” 

“Maybe,” he repeats, the cloth against your face halting for a moment. “Did you…meet anyone tonight?” he asks, resuming his makeup removal service. 

“My friends,” you mumble. 

“I meant…ya know…like flirted with anyone.” 

You giggle, reaching for Jisung’s arm. “Do you flirt, Sungie?” 

“No.” 

“Whyy?”

“There’s no one I want to flirt with.” 

You pout, sitting up and squishing his cheeks between your fingers. “That’s sad, poor Sungie.” 

“I’m not sad. I’m happy.” 

“You are?” 

He reaches up to smooth down your hair. “Mm. I'm happy if you’re happy.” 

“What if I’m sad?”

“Then I’ll find what’s making you sad and take it away.” 

“You’re a good friend,” you yawn, falling back down onto your pillows. He leans down to press a kiss to your head. You reach out to grab his hand as he stands to leave. “Sungie?”

“Yes?” 

“Am I a good friend?” 

“You’re a good everything.” 

“...a good everything?” you mumble through another yawn, closing your eyes as Jisung intertwines your fingers. 

“Mm. You’re everything.” 

FELIX — you’re burnt out from uni/work

“What do you want for dinner?” your boyfriend asks gently. He’d been overly gentle with you all day, treating you like a cornered kitten. You loved him, but every question he asked you was wearing away at you. He’d suggested going to your favourite park, the colourful flowers and gentle breeze often did your mindset wonders. You didn’t want to get dressed. He’d put on your comfort film, the background noise was nice—but not enough to distract you from the heavyweight in your chest. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Pizza?” he asks, knowing it was your favourite—your go-to option when you were feeling low. You say nothing, closing your eyes and resting your head back against the couch. 

“Wanna go for a drive and pick it up?” Felix asks, making the decision for you. 

“No.” 

His gentle fingers trace across your knuckles, where you are gripping a pillow to your chest. You relax your grip. 

“I’ll order then,” he says, sounding a little dejected. You lift your head. It feels heavy on your neck. You fall into your boyfriend's lap, head resting against his thighs.  

“Thank you,” you whisper. His free hands come to your hair, stroking the strands gently just above your ear. 

“Anything you need?” 

“Just you,” you answer, closing your eyes again. The sound of the tv is the only noise in the room for the next 20 minutes, your boyfriend's fingers continuing their gentle ministrations in your hair. 

When the doorbell rings he lifts your head gently, replacing his lap with a pillow so he can answer the door. He’s gone not even a minute. That’s all the time you need for your eyes to fill with tears, suddenly completely overwhelmed. He places the pizza on the table then kneels by your side.

“Okay?” 

You open your mouth to speak, unable to get anything past your lips but an ugly sob. He jumps into action, lifting your head so he can resume his position on the couch. You press your face to his legs for a moment before lifting yourself to climb into his lap, wrapping yourself around him. “So tired,” you sob, his hand stroking up and down your back. 

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I wish—I wish I could take it away.” 

“Don’t—” you heave in a breath, already struggling to breathe through your uncontrollable sobbing. “Don’t leave.” 

“Shhh. Not going anywhere, promise. Right here…just breathe.” His voice wobbles a little, prompting you to pull back to look at his face. “Breathe for me,” he finishes. His eyes are watery to match yours, his cheeks already wet from where his tears had spilled over. 

You bring your hands to his cheeks, attempting to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry,” you sob. 

He huffs out a laugh through his tears. “You cried first.” 

“I didn’t mean to.” 

His eyes soften, pulling your head back down to rest on his shoulder. “I know.” He lets you cry into his shoulder until your head hurts, finally lifting you from his lap so he can bring you a box of tissues. He takes one for himself. You take in the scene you both make, blowing your noses as your pizza sits cold on the coffee table. 

Felix looks up at you, his nose bright red. You burst into laughter, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck again. “What’s funny?” he asks between sniffles. 

“Just love you.”

SEUNGMIN — he comes home to find you sick

You’re faintly aware of a knock at the door, too unwell to even consider getting up to answer it. Instead you groan as you roll over, reaching for the bottle of water on the ground by the couch. You struggle to sit up, lifting your head just enough to sip from the lip of the bottle. The door opens just as you look across the room longingly at the fan, wishing you had the energy to turn it on and drag it over to blow directly in your face. 

“Oh, you’re home. Why didn’t you—” your boyfriend pauses, taking in your sweaty form sprawled out on the couch. “What’s wrong?” 

You’re suddenly overwhelmed, the exhaustion from looking after yourself all day catching up with you. You reach out towards him as your face crumbles, a sob escaping your throat. You don’t see him approach you, your eyes squeezed closed as you feel his arms wrap around you. He pulls you into his lap, guiding your head to his shoulder. 

“You’re sick? Why didn’t you call?” 

“You were busy,” you gasp between sobs. 

He’s quiet, letting you gather yourself. It doesn’t take long, you don’t have the energy to cry. When you’re quiet he speaks again. “What do you need?” 

“Don’t wanna be sick anymore,” you whine, knowing he couldn’t actually take it away but feeling much like you did as a child—begging your mum to make it stop. 

“I know,” he says, palm rubbing up and down your back. “What else do you need?” 

“Sleep.” 

He stands, lifting you with him. Your legs dangle, too tired to cling to him like you usually do. He lowers your legs to the ground briefly so he can hook his arm under your legs and lift you properly. You wrap your arms around his neck weakly, relying on him entirely to hold you against him. 

“Should’ve called,” he mutters, turning to manoeuvre through your bedroom doorway. He lowers you gently to the bed then disappears into your ensuite bathroom. You close your eyes, a small pained sound escaping your throat. 

A cold cloth presses against your forehead and your eyes flutter open to take in the worried face of your boyfriend. “Have you taken anything?” he asks. 

“This morning.” 

He stands quickly, leaving the room without a word. When he returns he’s carrying a bottle of water and a small cup. “Swallow these,” he instructs, sitting down at the edge of the bed so he can help you sit. You do what he says, swallowing each tablet individually with a mouthful of water. 

He places his hand at the back of your head to lower you back against the pillow. “Sleep.” 

“Can’t sleep without you,” you mutter. He pulls his shirt over his head then crawls up next to you, wrapping his arm around you so he can pull you into him. “Do you think it’ll be gone when I wake?” you ask, trying to focus on the warm pressure of his body against your back. 

“Definitely,” he answers, sounding completely sure of himself. You close your eyes as his lips press to your neck, drifting out of consciousness almost immediately. 

JEONGIN — you panic while learning to drive

You’d been putting it off for years, the anxiety of learning to drive completely overwhelming. It wasn’t until your boyfriend offered to teach you that you finally worked up the courage. He made everything enjoyable, every grocery trip felt like a fun day out if you were with him.

“You’re ready to go out on the street,” he encourages again as your hands grip the wheel tightly. You’d only managed driving around an empty carpark so far. It was late on a Tuesday night, the streets were practically empty. 

“I…don’t think I am.” 

“I know you are.” 

You turn to look at your boyfriend, his eyes shining behind his round glasses. You suck in a deep breath, attempting to loosen your grip on the wheel a little. You ease your foot off the break, rolling forward slightly before pressing the accelerator down slowly. Jeongin is quiet next to you, patient as always. 

When you reach the exit you slam the breaks on, suddenly panicked by the open road ahead of you. “We’re going left,” your boyfriend says, still sounding totally calm and confident. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can’t, I really can’t.” 

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Baby? Hey,” You take one hand off the wheel to grasp his hand. “You got it,” he finishes. 

Your heart races in your chest as you grip the wheel with both hands again, a shiver running through your body. Jeongin talks to you as you turn out into the street, giving you calm instructions and gentle encouragement. It isn’t until a car pulls out and follows directly behind you that you start to really panic, their headlights shining directly into the car. 

“The car,” you mutter, panic evident in your voice. 

“Ignore them,” your boyfriend says. “You can turn left at the next street.” Your eyes keep flicking to the rear view mirror, another shiver running through your body. Then they honk and you break too fast, swerving to pull up the side of the road. The car honks again as they speed past you, leaving you gasping for breath as you try to stay calm. 

A hand gently rests over yours and you look up to the man sitting in the passenger seat. He pulls his hoodie over his head. “Want me to take over?” he asks. You nod, pulling the handbrake on and stepping out of the car. 

He meets you half-way around the car, pulling his soft hoodie over your head and helping you push your arms through the sleeves. He’d often give you an item of his clothing when you were anxious, the smell of him close to you calming your nerves. The fabric is soft against your skin and you press the sleeve to your face as you climb into the passenger seat. 

You’re both quiet as your boyfriend drives, your heart slowing back to a normal rate as you watch the world go by. It isn’t until the car pulls into an unfamiliar car park that you realise you haven’t been heading home. Jeongin presses a button to open the sunroof then turns the engine off. He gestures to the back seat and you climb over the centre console, your boyfriend following close behind. 

He lays himself across the back seat and holds his arms open, beckoning you to join him. You press yourself against him, head resting against his shoulder—his arms around you prevent you from falling off the seats. You have a perfect view up to the clear night sky, your boyfriend's soft breath tickling your skin.

“You did well,” he says, breaking the silence finally. 

You huff. “I freaked out.”  

“You overcame your fear and drove on the roads,” he presses his lips to your temple. “Proud of you,” he mumbles against your skin. 

a/n: some of these are snippets from longer wips! may be seen again in longer form in the future...

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist

[heizlut]

Zandik’s Whore

cw: rough sex, corruption kink(?)

tags: mean tutor!zandik, bimbo f!reader, corruption kink(?), one use of y/n (sorry 🥺), petnames: cockslut, slut, pet

nsfw under the cut

check out my masterlist here!

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

Zandik sat quietly in the library completely engrossed in a book. He was trying to take his mind off the fact that he was being forced to tutor a ditzy girl like you. If he could’ve declined, he would’ve but he didn’t have a choice as he was in the top of his class and needed extra hours to add to his transcripts. You were on the verge of failing the one class you absolutely needed to pass in order to graduate. Zandik didn’t know what drove him more insane, your lack of brains or the skimpy little outfits you wore as you pranced around campus all bubbly and smiling brightly.

Soon enough, he hears the clicking of heels sound through the quiet library. He looks up to see you walking in wearing a pretty little sundress, your hair bouncing as you walked towards him with a bright smile on your face. He feels his pants tightening as he observes you but tries to push away those thoughts, offering you a cold glare.

Oblivious to his outward distaste for you, you approach him happily, “Hello! I was told you’re the one who’s going to be tutoring me. Zandik, right?” He fights the urge to roll his eyes at your cheerful attitude and closes his book, “Yes, that’s me.. unfortunately.. You must be y/n.” You nod and plop yourself down in the chair right next to him. As you do so, the subtle smell of your delicious perfume surrounds him and your bare leg brushes against his, making his cock begin to ache. “Thanks for agreeing to tutor me. All this information on ruin mechanics is really going over my head”, you pout, twirling your hair around your finger.

Seeing you pout like that only draws his attention to your plush, glossy lips. Zandik licks his own lips as he stares for a moment, then quickly clears his throat and returns to his usual cold demeanor, “It’s not like I really had a choice in the matter.. Anyways, this subject requires one to think critically. I can guide you through understanding the fundamentals, but it is ultimately up to you to retain the information.” You smile at him but then a dumb look crosses your features, “But I’m not good at retaining difficult information..”

Zandik blinks, “Well then I don’t exactly see how you’re going to pass if you can’t even retain the information I give you.” Your eyes begin to well up with tears and your bottom lip quivers slightly, “B-but if I don’t pass this subject t-then I won’t g-graduate.” Zandik lets out a disgruntled sigh, an idea forming in his head as he smirks internally, “Then I suppose I could provide you with some additional tutoring outside of our scheduled meeting times.” You give him a hopeful smile, placing your hand on his thigh, “You’d do that for me?” The feeling of your hand on his thigh almost makes him groan but he lets it get caught in his throat, “Of course, but this is only under the condition that you.. return the favor” As he says this, he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheeks, resisting the urge to lick the saltiness of your tears off his thumb. Seeing you all pathetic in front of him, looking at him like he had hung the stars in the sky himself made him want to ruin you and that’s exactly what he’ll do.

A couple days later you find yourself in his dorm room, settled on his lap with his cock in your tight dripping pussy. Zandik has you cockwarming him, not bothering to thrust up into you unless you get the answer correct. His fingers toying with your cute little clit as he quizzes you on the composition of ruin mechanics. “And where does ruin technology come from?” Zandik asks as he continues to rub circles on your aching clit. “F-fontaine..?” You moan out. He slaps your clit harshly and growls lowly in your ear, “Wrong answer. Try again.” You cry out at the pleasurable sting, trying to move on his cock, “Mmph.. Please… Please fuck me.” His hand makes contact with your poor clit again, causing you to whimper, “Only good girls get fucked by my cock. Now try. Again. Where does ruin technology come from?��� You bite your lip, desperate for some friction, and answer dumbly, “I-Inazuma?”

Zandik rolls his eyes and quickly pushes you onto your hands and knees. He pushes down on your back, causing you to arch so perfectly for him and he begins thrusting roughly into you, “What a brainless little slut. All you’re good for is taking my cock.” Your lewd moans fill the room as he pounds his thick cock in your soaked little cunt. Your eyes crossing and your tongue lolling out of your pretty little mouth. If only you knew just how incredibly dumb you looked right now. Zandik slaps your ass making you let out a pathetic whimper and he presses his chest to your back. His hot breath tickles your neck, “Once I graduate, I’m gonna make you into my pretty little assistant. My brainless little pet. All you’ll ever need to do is please me.”

You clench around his cock at his words, “Wanna be good f’you. Wanna be your good girl. Make you feel s’good…” Your words slurring together as all you can focus on is the way his thick cock hits all the right places. Zandik chuckles darkly as he bites down on your neck, releasing thick ropes of hot cum into your awaiting cunt, not caring that you haven’t cum just yet, “What a perfect cockslut you are already. All you’ll ever need is my cock, nothing else.” You whine as he pulls out of you and you feel his cum drip from your aching pussy, “Wanna cum, Zandik..” He grabs you by your hair, forcefully pulling you upright and making you look at him. You look so dazed and drunk from his cock, mouth hanging open slightly. Zandik clicks his tongue, “Now, now. Don’t be ungrateful. You’ll take what I give you.” He pinches your tongue between his fingers, pulling it to stick out slightly and he spits into your mouth then taps your cheek, “Now swallow.” You obediently swallow and he pats your head, “Good girl.”

He had you right where he wanted you, desperate and aching for his cock, his touch, his degrading words and praises. Such an obedient little thing. Why should he waste his time trying to fill your mind with information you couldn’t even comprehend when you could just be his little cockslut instead?

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

a/n: hehe i like writing for dottore/zandik. if he becomes a playable character i’ll cum on the spot