#I wonder what else he could stretch😏

[aesthetic-bbyg]

I need to see this whimpering and begging to be touched

(and his limbs ain’t the only thing he can stretch🗣️)

For educational purposes ofc

[jeonginsleftcheek]

A relaxing evening

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, roommates to lovers

word count: 3.2k

warnings: soft dom lix, big dick lix, sensual massage, clit play, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, one light spank, not proofread (lmk if i missed something)

a/n: after spending a month writing a literal 70k+ book for hyunjin i hit a bit of a writer's block and who better to get me out of it than my very own muse, lee felix😏

~ Masterlist

To say you've had a horrible day was an understatement.

You've had the worst day that actually stretched and turned into the worst week.

Your boss was on your neck constantly, there was so much work to do which made you stay at the company working overtime and coming home late.

To make matters worse, everyone was angry and annoyed, so the conflict at work grew into a displeasing feeling that had you desperate for any kind of relief, even just a free afternoon to nap.

Felix, your roommate and friend, noticed how you came home later than usually and more drained day after day, the dark circles under your eyes getting progressively darker as the week came to an end.

Finally, Friday came around and you were barely standing on your feet when you walked into the apartment.

Felix is sitting on the couch, probably playing some games before sleep as you shuck off your shoes.

"Hi, sugar plum."- he snickers when he hears you groaning behind him, his head falling backwards to catch a glimpse of you.

"Please, don't start. I'm not in the mood."- you say tiredly.

Usually you throw disgustingly cute nicknames back and forth at each other but your brain was short-circuiting so bad that even thinking of a nickname for your friend was hard.

Felix exhales, pouting as he gets up and makes his way to you, helping you take off your blazer.

"I'll heat up some dinner."- he says and you nod, not even bothering to answer because the last ounce of strength you have is focused on standing upright.

You follow him to the kitchen to drink some water, and Felix looks at your tired frame, feeling sad that you're so down, instead of being your usual self, the one that jokes around and yaps away with him until the early morning.

"Why don't you sit down?"- he guides you to the chair and you sit wordlessly.

"My whole body hurts."- is what you say after a few moments of silence, as Felix waits for the dinner to warm up, his eyes trained outside the window.

"And my mind too."- you add as he looks at you and you notice the sympathetic smile he gives you.

"Well..."- Felix starts as he takes the food out on a plate. "I could prepare you a nice warm bath."

"You would do that?"- you ask, in your tired state you feel emotional and tears prick at your eyes.

"Of course I would."- he smiles, the sweet expression on his face as he brings you dinner makes you feel a little bit healed already.

"You're an angel, Lixie."- you smile as he squeezes your shoulder.

"I don't know about that."- he chuckles shyly, his freckled cheeks becoming rosy instantly.

You shake your head with a fond smile as he makes his way to the bathroom while you finally have a normal warm meal after the lunch you ate at work.

Hunger takes you over and you finish eating quickly, just in time for Felix to come back.

"Oh, you're done already?"- he asks.

"Don't judge me."- you say and he chuckles.

"No, I'm not judging, just wondering if you're still hungry. I could make you something else?"

"No, no don't worry, Lix. I'm ready for that relaxing bath."- you smile and he nods, biting on his lip.

"Um, can I suggest something?"- he asks as you stand up and you tilt your head at him.

"What is it?"- you ask curiously.

"You know I have some knowledge about massaging. I could help you relieve your stress with a full body massage." - Felix says and your eyes widen. "I mean if you're comfortable with it. You don't have to... ugh forget it."- he seems embarassed suddenly and you chuckle.

"A free full body massage? Sign me up."- you smirk.

"Who said it was free?"- he smirks back at you.

"Oh, so you're gonna charge me for your services, hm?"- you joke and he laughs.

"No, of course not. I'm just joking."- he says. "Go enjoy the bath I prepared, before it gets cold."- he adds and you make your way to the bathroom.

As soon as you walk in, you gasp, Felix has really made an effort.

He put your favorite bath bomb with bubbles into the water, lit your favorite scented candle and even adjusted the lighting to be less attacking on your tired eyes.

You strip in no time, throwing all your clothes inside the hamper and getting into the bath as quickly as you could.

The water is still warm and it feels wonderful to submerge your weary body into the relaxing feeling.

You close your eyes, leaning your head back on a towel as you feel the relaxation slowly taking you over, traveling through your limbs and making you feel weightless.

The warm and cozy atmosphere that Felix created have you almost falling asleep in the bath as your body slips a little and you sit up with a start, your eyes snapping open.

"Y/n? You okay?"- you hear Felix on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'll be out soon."

"Okay, I prepared everything for the massage."- he says and you giggle to yourself.

You don't feel too nervous being practically naked in front of Felix as you have known him for a long time and since you've been roommates you have seen each other naked on accident a few times.

He even gave you a few shoulder and back massages when you were in pain from sitting at your desk for too long but he never suggested a full body one.

Curious about it and ready to relax completely, you shower and dry off quickly, putting a bathrobe on and leaving to your room.

"Lix?"- you peek inside and see that he has fluffed up your bed, lit another scented candle and a few normal ones just to add to the atmosphere, and prepared some massage oils.

"Damn, you went all out."- you chuckle.

"I wanna make you feel better."- he smiles sweetly, making your heart flutter a little as you make your way towards the bed.

The two of you stand awkwardly for a few moments before both of you chuckle.

"I should undress, right?"- you smile and Felix nods quickly before turning his back to you and covering his eyes for a good measure.

"Tell me when you're ready to start."- his voice is muffled behind his palms and you giggle as you take the robe off.

You lay down on your stomach, pulling a towel that Felix prepared over your backside and private parts, getting comfy on the soft bed.

"I'm ready."- you say when you find a nice position, your forehead pressed against the end of the pillow so you can breathe, your arms on either sides of you, aligning with your body.

Felix bites on his lip as his eyes roam on your body shamelessly.

"Lix?"- you say and he snaps out of his thoughts.

"Yes, let me grab some lavender oil. It's good for relaxing."- he announces and you mutter, ready to just enjoy having his skilful hands on you.

Felix kneels next to you, as you feel the bed dip and hear him opening the little bottle of oil.

Some light music is playing in the background and you exhale a hundred worries as soon as his fingers press on your shoulders.

"Mm Lixie."- you moan instantly, making his gut stir but he shakes it off, wanting to focus only on your well-being.

His thumbs circle your flesh slowly, going up to the sides of your neck and down the top of your shoulders before pressing back to the original spot, circling it and taking off the stiffness you feel from spending long hours at your desk.

Little moans of relaxation keep coming out of your mouth and Felix's sweatpants get tighter, as your body visibly relaxes.

Working his way down your back, he keeps adding oil and finding the most painful spots skilfully and relieving you of your pain, as if it was his actual career.

"God, Lixie, you're so good."- you whimper, smushing your face into the pillow for a moment.

"I know."- Felix smirks, making you chuckle.

And he does know. He knows exactly which pressure points are located where so when his fingers press into your lower back, just a bit above your ass, you feel a wave wash over you.

"Oh."- you exclaim a little but Felix never acknowledges it, smirking behind you as he gently massages your lower back.

You start feeling a bit hot, aroused even as he continues his ministrations, fingertips barely dipping to the swell of your ass.

Your breathing is slow and deep, your body completely relaxed as you left yourself in Felix's precious hands.

Felix shuffles a little, you hear more oil being opened before you feel his hands on your foot.

"Good?"- he checks in on you and you whimper as he presses and continues bringing you relaxing touches.

"Perfect."- you half-whisper, your mind floaty, all the stress from the week forgotten, no thoughts, just Felix.

Felix, with his soft hands and deep voice, his pretty smile and adorable freckles.

Wait.

Why are you thinking of him like that?

You don't know why, and you don't care as his hands slide above your ankle, he presses four fingers on your skin as if he's measuring something on the inner side before he finds a pressure point and starts working on it.

As soon as his finger finds that spot, you shiver, feeling yourself getting aroused the more he keeps circling that spot.

You would feel embarassed but you're so relaxed that you couldn't care less, your body melting even further into the bed, your arms coming up on either sides of your head as you gently fist the sheets beneath you.

Felix smirks, massaging the point harder, making your arousal drip between your folds, your cunt clenching around nothing.

He notices your slight squirming and that lets him know he's got you right where he wanted you.

He lets go for now, hands sliding up to massage your tired muscles.

At this point, you're aroused, wishing he would touch you where you need him the most and you want to press your legs together but you don't want him to notice that.

Felix already knows, after all, his touches were purposeful and he has wanted you for so long, wanted to be the one to make you feel good.

"Lix."- his nickname almost sounds like a whimper as he runs his hands on the back of your thighs.

"You okay?"- he asks, his fingertips dipping between your legs, touching your inner thighs as he gently starts massaging the flesh.

This is the last straw, your slick is now gushing out and you start feeling embarassed, wondering if he can see it or smell it.

"I-I'm fine."- you whimper as he keeps massaging your thighs.

"You sure?"- he asks, hands sliding up, close to your core and you lean into his touch as you grip the sheets.

"N-no."- you whimper.

"What's wrong?"- Felix smirks, fingertips brushing your asscheeks.

"I- um... I'm horny."- you turn your head sideways to look at him and he hovers over you.

"I know. You're kinda obvious."- he says and you whine.

"You did this on purpose."- you say as he runs his hands on your lower back and waist, making you shiver constantly as you feel ten times more sensitive than usually.

"Would you hate me if I did?"- he bites on his lip, his eyes big and pleading.

"No."- you whisper.

"You want me to continue?"- he asks and you nod.

"Please."

"How about a special massage?"- his voice is low as he slowly removes the towel. "Do I have your permission, angel?"

"Yeah."- you say, legs spreading slightly as you lift up your middle just a bit so he can touch you properly.

Felix groans at you presenting your wetness to him, your forehead buried in the pillow again as you anticipate his touches.

His hands are on your ass, as he gropes and massages them before his fingertips dip between your legs, sliding through your wet folds.

"L-Lixie."- you whimper as he touches you teasingly, fingers gently rubbing around your pussy and towards your other hole, down to your inner thighs again.

You push back into him and he gently grabs your hip.

"Don't move, my honey bee."- he says and you snort.

"Alright, pumpkin pie."- you retort.

"Let me do all the work, you just relax."- he says, fingers sliding through your dripping folds repeatedly, making you clench around nothing constantly, before he finally presses into your clit.

"Mm."- you moan when he starts sliding the pads of his fingers up and down your clit, swollen with arousal and coated in your slick.

You moan quietly as Felix keeps massaging your sensitive clit slowly, up and down, left and right and then circling it and gently pinching it, occasionally dipping his fingertips into your cunt to gather more of your arousal.

You've never had anyone touch you this gently, it was usually a guy just flicking your clit fast when you're about to cum and while that does feel nice, this was a different kind of nice.

You felt tortured in a good way, like Felix was constantly dangling your orgasm in front of your eyes but never letting you get to it.

So much arousal kept gushing out of your pussy that for a moment you thought you were cumming as he kept pressing his fingers into your clit, playing your body expertly, like he's done this many times before.

"Lix- I wanna cum."- you whimper.

"I know love, but be patient. Just a bit more, I promise it's gonna feel amazing."- he coos at you, fingers working your nub faster and with more pressure.

You push back into him again and he grabs your hip as he starts flicking your swollen clit fast.

"Lixie, ah!"- you whine loudly, your slick coating his hand.

"I need you inside me!"- you add, holding onto the sheets.

"Mhm, later. I know you can cum just from this."- he says, as you keep jolting and whining.

You can't believe it's happening but your orgasm hits you like a wave, as you spill onto his hand, moaning loudly as he keeps massaging your sensitive nub.

"Oh fuck!"- you whimper when he slides his fingers to your folds.

"Interested in a deeper massage?"- his voice is low and dark as he leans down to your ear, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Mm, please Lixie."- you moan.

He slowly pushes two of his fingers into your sopping cunt, taking him in greedily as you were so relaxed and ready to receive.

Felix adjusts his position between your legs and it doesn't take him long to find your gummy spot.

"Lix!"- you groan when he starts gently fucking into it.

"Feels good?"- he asks, his lips brushing your ear as he scissors you open.

"Heavenly."- you moan out as he fucks you slowly, effectively massaging your walls, making your pussy clench on his fingers constantly, begging for more.

"Just relax."- he says as you keep pushing back on his hand, slowly fucking yourself on his fingers.

"I said relax."- he chuckles, lightly smacking your ass.

You gasp, calming down immediately, surprised by his commanding tone and actions.

You never thought your shy Felix would be handling you like this as you present yourself to him, to use you freely as he wants.

But all he actually wants is to bring you pleasure like you've never felt before, making sure to ruin every man for you so you only belong to him.

Eventually he speeds up, his fingers perfectly hitting your sweet spot and driving you insane, as you drip around him, the wet sounds are so loud that it makes you feel even more aroused.

Felix leans down and unexpectedly starts kissing and gently biting the flesh on your ass as he holds your hip and ruts his fingers fast into you.

"Ah, ah, Lix- Lixie, ah! Felix!"- you moan desperately as you tremble, squirting a fountain as he keeps on fucking into you, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can, teeth sinking into your flesh as you squirm under him.

"Oh..."- you're speechles when he pulls out, you can't feel your legs and your ears are ringing.

"You with me, angel?"- Felix hovers above you as he caresses your head gently.

"That was the best orgasm ever."- you exhale.

"Told you I wanna make you feel better."- he smirks, hearing you praise him boosts his ego and makes his cock twitch and throb painfully inside his tight boxers.

"Is there more?"- you chuckle making him laugh and he gently turns you to lay on your back.

"If you want, I can offer more special massages."- he smirks as his eyes roam all over your body, his hands squeezing your thighs and massaging them gently.

You look down to see his dick straining in his pants.

He follows your eyes and looks down too, just as you hook your fingers in his pants.

"I want your cock, Lixie."- you say as you slowly slide his pants down.

"You do?"- he looks a bit surprised and you giggle.

"Mhm."- you say as you finally free him.

"Oh."- you gasp. "You're a grower."- you add with a smirk.

"Oh shut up."- he looks embarassed suddenly and you start giggling again.

"Come here and kiss me first."- you say and his eyes soften as he leans down to kiss you sloppily, your tongues crashing against each other, his heavy cock pressed against you.

"So pretty."- you bit on his lip as your hands wrap around his length.

"What, my cock?"- he chuckles.

"Mhm. Want it so bad."- you whimper, and Felix groans lowly.

"You can have it, angel. Anything you need."- he says as he slowly pushes inside you.

"Mm. More."- your legs wrap around him, making him hit deeper as he keeps pushing his length inside you until he fills you up to the brim.

"Feeling relaxed?"- he asks, his hand coming up to brush your hair behind your ear and gently touch your face.

"Mhm, I have no thoughts at all."- you give him a smile and he chuckles quietly.

"Then, let's keep it that way."- he says as he slowly starts sliding his cock against your walls.

Felix keeps working hard to make you satisified and relaxed, to get you into a state of pure bliss, even if it means putting his own pleasure at the back shelf as he makes you cum on his cock over and over again.

He fucks you until you're shaking and crying, gripping at his biceps and clawing at his back, whimpering how sensitive you are, your pussy sloppy and shaped to fit his cock, which is when he finally lets go, cumming inside you hard, filling you up with his hot cum.

And when you fall asleep in his arms, a small blissful smile on your face, Felix knows he has accomplished his mission.

And he will do it again in a heartbeat, anything to make you feel better.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger

[blackleatherjacketz]

If you are taking reqs for fics, you should totally do one where reader is sore from training or something else(😏) and Miguel offers to massage readers legs, in which turns into him eating reader out!

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel insists on helping you stretch out your hamstrings.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Mature Content, Mutual Pining, Sassy Miguel, Persuasion, Power Dynamics, Dom Miguel, Touch-Starved Reader, Avoidant Reader, Thigh Stretching, Thigh Riding, Thigh Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Miguel Using His Nose *Creatively*

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes: I hope you like this, Nonny! It got a way from me a bit:)

Read my other MIGUEL stories!

“You’re doing it wrong.” His voice is slick like oil as it spreads through the air and into your ears, coating you in its deliciously dark warmth as he approaches you from behind.

“Oh really?” You keep your palms pressed against the wall as that warmth intensifies, stretching the muscles in your calf as you feel the heat from his breath reach the back of your neck. “How so?”

“You’ve been groaning every time you stand up from your chair.” The weight of the mat beneath your feet shifts and bends with each step he takes toward you until he stops just a few inches short, inhaling a little longer than normal before speaking again. “That stretch isn’t going to help your hamstrings any.”

“No?” You keep your back to him, switching legs before continuing your usual stretches to ease your well-earned muscle pain. “Maybe my calves hurt, did you ever think about that?”

“I can help with those, too.” That dark, inky tambre oozes itself around your body, dripping down your torso and into your core as his words blow a few strands of hair away from your shoulder.

It’s only a matter of seconds now before he touches you, before that black abyss takes you under completely; rendering you helpless against his charm that you’ve been trying to ignore these past few weeks. Those innocent looks he stole from you across the room had quickly morphed into longing gazes that kept you up at night, spurning a fire inside that could only be stoked by one thing. You wonder if being submerged in this desire with him is something that could put this flame out for good; or if succumbing to your primal urges would only ignite this chemical reaction into a combustion impossible to recover from.

“By mansplaining my own stretches to me?” You bring yourself out of your own head and lean further into the wall, extending your muscle in a slow, aching release as he stands still behind you.

“I’m not…” he trails off, backing away only slightly. “I’m not mansplaining.”

“Really?” You finally turn to face him and notice that instead of his usual red and blue suit, he’s wearing shorts and a tank top to match your own. A fresh stain of sweat dampens the worn down collar that stretches across his muscular chest, testing your resolve even further as you try to keep your cool with a casual wink. “What would you call it then, huh?”

You turn to walk away from him, stopping only as he instinctively grabs hold of your arm in a quick attempt to keep you near. He steals another glance, stalling your departure with a gentle tug back in his direction, only this one lasts a little longer than those before it. This one allows you to see the varying colors of red, brown and black in his eyes as they carefully study your face, matching the color of that dark, salacious fluid that reaches the very tips of your toes and glues your feet to the ground.

Uh oh.

Now you’re sinking.

“You’re touching me,” you point out, glancing down at his hand before looking back up at his gorgeous face.

“Do you want me to stop?” The boldness of his question forces you to inhale as his fingers encircle your wrist, his calloused fingertips sending a rush of warmth up your arm as they gently pull you in even closer.

Well, do you?

“No,” you whisper, barely able to recognize your own voice as the word allows him to trace his way up your forearm. “No, I don’t,” you clarify.

“Then what do you want?” He asks again, his voice dropping an octave as it vibrates in his chest.

You shiver in silence as his thumb nestles into the crook of your arm, grazing back and forth over its delicate skin like a pendulum, raising the tiny hairs on your skin as he awaits your answer. His lips are closer than they’d ever been before, full and parted as you allow him to alter your center of gravity with another gentle pull. You’re close enough now to smell his sweat as it mixes in with the sandalwood of his cologne, that intoxicating concoction making it that much harder for you to resist sinking down any further.

“I want you to touch me.” You finally give in, figuring you have nothing left to lose with his breath now hot on your cheek. “I want you to keep touching me.”

“Good,” he smirks as if that’s all he’s been waiting for, nodding his head toward the space behind you. “Now get on the mat, flat on your back.”

Like one of his new recruits you follow his orders blindly, surrendering to this inevitable seduction as you cautiously lay down at his feet.

“Now, I know you’re allergic to accepting help from anyone else, but you’re holding back when you stretch, you know that?” He wastes no time in taking your foot into his hand before pushing your leg up toward you, straightening it out just enough to make you wince. “That’s why you’re still groaning every time you stand up.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you laugh, trying to ignore his pelvis as it presses against you, stretching your inner thigh out even more than you were capable of doing by yourself. You groan again as he pushes your body to its limit, his palm snug against your calf as he extends it up to the level of your head, pinning your opposite thigh in place with his hip. You hiss as a sharp pain quickly follows, shooting its way up the synapses of your largest muscle as he continues to splay you apart.

“Miguel,” you stifle a whimper as he grins, a glint of his fangs showing as that pain burns its way through the rest of that muscle group.

“Oh, it’s gonna hurt before it feels better, mami,” he goads, stretching you out even further as his pelvis grinds against yours, the evidence of his arousal more than damning.

“I know, I just…” You pause as the expression on his chiseled features changes from playful to knowing, his endlessly dark eyes glancing down at your junction before looking back up at your face.

“You’re soaking wet.” He keeps his hand on your leg while snaking the other between you two, testing the polyester layer of your shorts for the moisture that you both know is there.

Words fail as your jaw falls open in disbelief, that smug look on his face interrupted only by a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes as he touches you.

“I know you’ve been trying to hide it for as long as you can, mami.” He rubs your swollen lips up and down over the cloth, forcing that all encompassing heat to burn like molten hot lava deep inside your core. “But I can smell it on you the second you walk into a room; the change in your hormones, the sweetness of your sweat, and even this.”

You moan pathetically as he pulls your shorts to the side, sliding his fingers beneath them to collect your juices and spread them up and down your length. “No panties either, huh? Turns out I was right about you.”

“Jesus, Miguel,” you plead, grasping onto his forearm just to make sure that he stays close enough to keep kindling your flame.

“Your body’s never gonna lie to me about what it wants.” He leans down and pushes his fingers inside of you, grinning against your ear as you nod helplessly in agreement. “No matter how hard you fucking try.”

He presses his thumb against your clit while kissing his way down your neck, shoulder and knee as he continues to hold your leg in its prolonged stretch. His hungry lips leave a delicious trail down the bottom of your thigh that grows more sensitive as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your burning desire with such delicate ease only he could bring forth.

“There’s no way you’re gonna relax enough for this stretch to work,” he teases. “Not like this, anyways.”

He kisses the skin around your hips, releasing his grip on your leg just enough to let it fall onto his shoulder as he lowers himself down your body. “Now, if only there was a way I could get you to relax...” He looks up at you with nearly blackened eyes, reminding you of that onyx slick as it mixes with the sparks and embers his fingers send into your core before he licks a stripe up your dripping wet center.

Without another word, he parts your folds with his nose before tasting your inner layer, savoring the mere taste of your scent as he rubs his face all over it like a warrior with his paint. He allows himself to get lost in your unique flavor, marking himself with your sex as he all but forgets to hold onto your thigh as his tongue traces over every inch of your lower lips. His mouth encompasses you entirely as his fingers continue to work inside you, pumping spark after spark of pleasure up into the molten core of your body before drenching your swollen bud in his sensual spit.

You find yourself running your fingers through his auburn locks as he takes your clit between his teeth, licking and sucking on it with eyes fixated only on you as your hips rock in tandem with the rhythm of his wrist. His fingers pound deep inside you as he hums against your bud, brushing against that bundle of nerves until that flame inside you finally bursts into an eruption of ecstasy you’d never even thought possible. Every nerve in your body ignites in a series of blissful explosions, catching fire the more he devours your raw flesh until you’re crying out and violently shaking beneath him, completely combusted.

That pain in your thigh seems to disappear entirely as a healing wave of warmth coats your skin and muscles, vibrating in your bones as he moans his approval into your well spent sex with one last lick.

“I think that oughta do it.”

[kittyball23]

Soundproof (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: John Dory reveals that Rhonda is soundproof, and that little bit of information sits quite well with Poppy and Branch **Rated M**

A/N: 😏

__________________________________________

It was precisely three things that were serving as a distraction to Branch that night.

One was the incredibly delicious marshmallows in his hands, plopped into his mouth every few minutes so that he could experience its chewy, fluffy goodness in between the songs that he and his brothers were harmonizing to. Another was Poppy, sitting across him from the campfire alongside her sister Viva. Her deep, fuschia eyes - sparkling with the reflection of the crackling orange flames - remained trained to his blue whenever she spared a glance his way, letting him know by the intense gaze that there was something other than flames crackling between them.

Tension.

And it was one that was continuing to build as the evening progressed, all because of a small tidbit of information that was so graciously dumped upon them during the idle conversation among the group of friends. The information in itself being the third distraction.

Patience was not proving to be a virtue, however, and he and Poppy had to be pulled out of their dazed infatuation with one another several times - Viva nudging her sister with a giggle and Floyd nudging Branch wearing his own little smirk.

After what did feel like hours of happily enduring laughter, songs, stories and other shenanigans that could only ensue among siblings, the first yawn finally was emitted, coming out of Floyd. It in turn caused everybody else to realize just how tired they were, too. So when the other yawns and tired stretches followed suit to confirm it was true, Branch nearly felt like pulling his brother in for a hug. His favorite bro had come to his aid, even if he may not have known it! But while the fun between the seven friends had just concluded, the heated glint in Poppy’s eyes told him that their fun was just beginning.

Just as Branch’s thoughts began to wander somewhere ungentlemanly, John Dory’s loud voice broke through. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m bushed!” To demonstrate his point, he plopped down flat on his back upon his sleeping bag. “Guess it was pretty fun singing and roasting marshmallows after all, eh?” he chuckled after a moment.

Bruce hummed in agreement, munching on the last few in his possession. “Mmm-mmm! I gotta tell Brandy we should add these to the dessert menu,” he said, referring to his wife of whom he ran Vacay Island’s cantina with.

“Imma be the first one in line if you do that!” Clay exclaimed, exchanging a fist bump with the purple-haired Troll.

“Count me in on that, too!” Viva giggled. She too really loved marshmallows - her couch back in Putt Putt Village, in fact, was a marshmallow! And only now did it really occur to her to wonder how in the world she’d managed not to consume it for all those years living there. Shrugging it off, she turned to the gang with a large grin. “He’s right though,” she said, gesturing a thumb at John Dory. “This really was fun! I’d love for us to all hang again sometime!”

Floyd nodded his head, agreeing. “That would be nice.” He turned to Branch, seeking his younger bro’s opinion.

“Yeah,” the blue Troll responded, hoping he didn’t sound too breathless when he answered, his gaze still fixed on Poppy.

The Pop Queen, in a similar fashion, concurred with a little dazed “Uh-huh.”

Good nights were bid, sleeping bags unzipped, and wrappers to the Jumbo-sized marshmallow bags disposed of. As Branch went to go put out the campfire, he silently mouthed the words to Poppy that would let her know when they could get the ball rolling.

Five minutes.

He accompanied the words with hand gestures - one going forward, as though he were making the motion for the word “after,” and then another gesture tucking his hands under one side of his head, to make it look as though he were laying down to sleep. Poppy understood right away, confirming with a little wink and followed by a half-lidded gaze that made a tingle go down his spine. He tried to ignore it as he laid down in his sleeping bag, for the sake of surviving those next five minutes without her in his arms already, but found he couldn’t. Poppy’s effect was too strong, and the desires manifested themselves in delicious fantasies for what he ached to do with her. Fantasies of which would soon become a reality.

Branch lay until he was sure that he heard the sounds of heavy cadences of breathing and light, steady snoring. He waited an extra thirty seconds or so afterwards, just to be extra sure and, upon hearing no signs of activity, allowed himself to rise up and out of his sleeping bag, careful to take the utmost caution in not making any noise whatsoever.

Poppy, also having waited the allotted time, made to get out of her sleeping bag, too. In her haste to reach Branch’s side, she accidentally crunched on a dry leaf, the crinkling noise resounding around them. Both froze. With this number of Trolls snoozing in the vicinity, someone was bound to stir. And stir someone did.

Clay shifted in his bag, and Branch held his breath, fully expecting his older brother to blink his eyes open and catch the two of them sneaking off. But to his relief, the lime-green-haired Troll drowsily mumbled something about tax evasion and then snuggled back into his blanket. Poppy met her boyfriend’s eyes and scrunched her shoulders, a little blush tinting her cheeks and a quiet giggle escaping her. Branch rolled his eyes playfully, and simply extended his hand for her to take, a little smirk on his face. She squeezed it softly as he tugged them along, padding against the soft dirt floor underneath them to reach their destination. Once they got just outside of JD's beloved caterbus pet, he released from her grip, bringing his hand up to her face so he could pull her in for the kiss he'd been dying to share with her. Poppy obliged him willingly, parting her lips slightly to deepen it. He pulled away with some reluctance after several seconds, resting his forehead against hers. Branch’s voice was hushed and eager when he spoke, finally addressing that one point of crucial information in the earlier conversation that had been so easily glossed over by the others, even his brother - JD - himself, who had revealed it.

"Do you really think that Rhonda is completely soundproof?"

The question itself wasn't so crude, but for the purpose that he was asking it made his cheeks grow warm. He couldn't help but think back to the time when John Dory had made the very confident-sounding claim that Rhonda was waterproof, but it hadn't turned out to be so.

Poppy however didn't seem bothered, and snickered. "I mean, even if she isn't, I'm sure she'll make sure nobody bothers us. Won't you, girl?"

Branch gave a short gasp when he felt a rumble of a trill behind him in response, only coming to just realize that Rhonda had been awakened and was panting happily at the couple. She wagged her stumpy green tail, seeming to have understood what Poppy had said and more than willing to be of help.

Branch still looked a little bit uncertain, suddenly rethinking this little venture. Even with as much as he wanted this to happen, would it be wise?

"Poppy," he said, pausing to think of what he was going to point out to her first. That perhaps they shouldn't be partaking in these type of activities within a caterbus that was not theirs? With not one, nor two, or even three or four, but FIVE other Trolls who had the chance of waking up and catching them in the act? And what kind of mess would they leave behind on the bed? Branch couldn’t imagine the embarrassment that he would have to face if confronted by John Dory for anything that was leftover upon the sheets….

But Poppy was quick to already reply. And reply she did. "Brrranch…" His name was a teasing growl, the ‘r’ drawn arousingly as she opened Rhonda's side door, batted her lashes and gingerly stepped foot inside.

Branch sighed. That's it.

In a move that suddenly startled her, he swept in, hauling her up and off her feet and hoisting her in a bridal carry that had her doing her best to not squeal in surprise. As he toted her into the caterbus, he hoped Poppy wasn't prepared to sleep.

Because Branch sure wasn't.

__________________________________________

A loud, thumping in the night is what awakened him.

Floyd startled, a little groggy as he registered that it was still pitch black, the morning not broken through yet. He attempted to shut his eyes again and doze off, but a sudden rumbling in his stomach caught him off guard, letting the magenta-haired Troll know loud and clear that it was hungry.

One midnight snack will do, he thought. Or... whatever time it is. Floyd had no way of knowing in particular what hour it was. It could very well be past midnight, or just a few minutes before the crack of dawn. He went back and forth reasoning which of the two it could be as he made his light, tip-toeing steps towards Rhonda. JD had lots of goodies packed in his fridge and cabinets, so there was bound to be something to sedate him.

As his hand reached for the knob of Rhonda's door, prepared to turn, he stopped short at the sound of the thumping again, more pronounced. Floyd blinked. Was that coming from inside of the caterbus? He strained to listen, and heard a rapid creaking noise, as though springs were being pressed down upon over and over, accompanied with a long, drawn noise of some sort. A moan, he realized, the longer he had his ear perked to attention.

Wait a minute... He thought he recognized that voice. Was that… Poppy? Floyd blinked. Why? Had something happened to her? He glanced over to where the other Trolls had been sleeping, seeing for the first time that her sleeping bag was indeed empty...

...And so was Branch's.

Suddenly, the magenta Troll's brain began to put two and two together, the cogs shifting in his brain right as another thumping was heard, and a new moan that bore a resemblance to the name of his youngest bro resonated.

Something had happened to Poppy all right. But it wasn't anything bad.

It was…

They were...

“Oh!” he gasped. Floyd suddenly felt blood rush to his face, his appetite vanishing entirely and his stomach turning queasy. He hurriedly turned his heel, trying to dash as quickly as he could back to his sleeping bag before he had an accident, but failing as he tripped over one of his brothers.

"Ow," a drowsy mumble came from Bruce, and he began to sit up and rub his eyes at the disturbance. "Floyd? Dude, what's going on?"

Floyd waved his hands in a panic. "No! Bruce, go back to sleep. Please!"

"Huh?" Bruce cocked his head. "What are you talking abou - " His sentence was cut off by the sound of a shout, one that sounded an awful lot like their youngest brother. More thumping followed, and Bruce raised an eyebrow, clueless for a second, until realization dawned upon him. "Ohhhh," he said, cracking a smile once his thoughts were confirmed upon seeing the lack of Branch and Poppy in their respective sleeping bags. Rhonda affirmed it further, cutting her narrowed eyes at him as if daring him to try and intrude the private moment. So that's what they were up to. Bruce shook his head, fondly remembering a time when he and Brandy were younger, and would get up to their own share of frisky business. "Well, I'll tell you one thing for sure," he told Floyd, "If there was ever any doubt that Branch isn't a man, there certainly isn’t one now."

Two responses met the purple-haired Troll. One was another loud moan coming from the caterbus. The other was a groan of dismay from his magenta-haired brother.

"Didn't John Dory say she was soundproofed?" Floyd whimpered in mortification, pointing at Rhonda.

Bruce laughed. "Bro, Rhonda's not soundproof. JD just sleeps like a rock. See?" The brothers looked over at their eldest bro who indeed looked like a content stone just laying there. Un-rock-like though, he snored, drooling some from the side of his open mouth.

Of course, Floyd thought with a roll of his eyes. He cast a worried glance at Bruce. "Okay, but, um, what should we do? I'd love to go back to sleep, but not if I'm going to listen to… um… to…" He tried to think of the right word to describe what was happening without outright saying it, but found he didn't have to. He grimaced when Poppy cried out, making him shudder. "To that," he finished.

Bruce understood and patted a hand reassuringly on Floyd’s shoulder. "Not to worry, bro. I got you covered. Here, gimme your hand." Floyd extended his palm out, and Bruce reached into his hair, pulling out a couple of small objects.

Floyd was perplexed when he realized what it was. "Gumdrops?" he asked.

"Hey, I know they're delish, but they're also 100% soundproof, guaranteed."

Floyd narrowed his eyes, unable to help feeling skeptical. "You sure?"

Bruce nodded. "Yep! Trust me, I stuff them in my kids' ears every night right after they've gone to sleep, in case the wife and I ever get in the mood. So far, they haven't been disturbed a peep!"

Floyd felt his stomach lurch and then nodded. “Okay! Alright, I’ll take them.”

Bruce chuckled, putting his own gumdrops in his ears and snuggling back down. He dozed off once more, and Floyd soon after, the magenta-haired Troll relieved that true to his brother’s word, he heard nothing but the sound of silence.

__________________________________________

Poppy found the brilliant sun the following morning a perfect compliment to the equally sunny attitude she had. She stretched, recomposed herself, and took a great big whiff of the fresh air once she stepped out of Rhonda. Right as she began to replay the events of the previous night, she felt a pair of hands slink around her waist, belonging to the Troll she’d shared the wonderful experience with. She giggled a little as his caress lightly tickled her sides, and she turned to face him, bestowing a quick peck upon his lips.

“Morning,” he whispered.

“Morning,” she replied. She licked her lips with a little hum, noting the flavor he’d left behind on them. “I take it coffee's brewing?” she asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” he confirmed, tipping his messy-haired blue head back towards Rhonda. “Want a cup?”

“In a little bit,” she said. “Think I’m gonna stretch my legs out here a bit first. I’m, uh… still a bit sore.” She admitted it with a blush that made Branch chuckle.

“All right.” He better adjusted his leafy vest to conceal the purplish mark on the base of his neck, bruise-like in appearance if not for the indentations indicative of teeth, if one were to look closely enough - evidence of the Pop Queen’s handiwork, no doubt.

They exchanged another sweet peck, and then Poppy was off at her sister’s side in a couple of wobbly bounds.

“Wakey, wakey!” she chirped, shaking her shoulder.

Viva gave a short yawn and grinned when her sights set on her sister. “Hey, you!” she giggled, throwing her arms around her for a hug. Taking note of her messy pink hair and worried she’d tossed and turned through the night, Viva questioned her. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Poppy replied. Better than okay, actually, she added silently, remembering Branch’s arms around her and how expertly they’d handled her.

“Oh, good!” Viva breathed out. “Um, you do know your leg warmers are inside out, right?”

Poppy grinned sheepishly when she realized her sister was right. But she couldn’t help be disoriented, not after the way Branch made her so drunk on his love. She shrugged, grateful when Clay’s awakening interrupted them.

“Ah, man, I had the best dream ever!” he declared as he stretched, sitting up in his sleeping bag.

Viva rolled her eyes. “This isn’t the one where you’re drinking hot cocoa and finishing everyone’s taxes, is it?”

Clay raised a hand. “Guilty, and quite happy to be found so!” he laughed.

Viva chuckled and turned to her sister. “That’s Clay for ya!”

Poppy shook her head with a little grin and then spotted Floyd and Bruce. “Hey, guys!” she called. “Branch is at the caterbus brewing some coffee. Want some?”

Poppy then witnessed something peculiar. At the mention of their youngest bro, Floyd’s eyes widened and he exchanged a look with Bruce. The purple-haired Troll calmly replied for the two. “I’ll take a cup, Poppy, but I think Floyd’s gonna pass. He was a little sick last night, and he’s still not up to par just yet.”

Poppy’s eyebrows creased in worry. “Oh, no! Really?” She looked to the magenta-haired Troll for an answer.

“I’ll be fine,” Floyd squeaked, clearing his throat afterwards in hopes that nobody would question him further for his strange behavior. Attention was drawn from him when John Dory leapt upon his feet, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“Wassup, fam!” he cried, snapping his fingers. “I don’t know about you all, but I slept like a baby! A baby Branch that is.” He chuckled at his own joke, until the voice of his youngest brother stopped him.

“I thought I told you to refrain from calling me that!” Branch grumbled as he stepped towards them, sipping a cup of coffee.

“I was just playing, bro.” His expression then switched to a serious one. “For real though, dude, are you all right?”

Branch looked at him with confusion. “What’d you mean?”

John Dory exhaled. “Huh, I dunno if I was dreaming or something, but I coulda sworn I heard some screaming from you last night. And y’know, come to think of it, you too, Poppy!” JD scratched his head. “Were y’all having nightmares or something?”

In that instant, Poppy felt all the color rush to her face. Branch gagged midsip of the coffee he was drinking, and Floyd moaned, a hint of green tinting his face as he rushed into the bushes to heave what was in his stomach.

“NIghtmares!” Poppy laughed. “Nightmares he says!” She laughed until she felt herself grow light-headed, and then faint.

Not in much of a better state, Branch stood, frozen in shock and unresponsive to his surroundings, blue eyes open wide but unseeing.

“Uhhh… I feel like I missed something here,” JD said, puzzled.

Clay and Viva murmured their agreement as the former waved a hand in front of his little bro’s face and Viva fanned Poppy, who was still splayed on the ground.

“I didn’t,” Bruce mumbled.

JD’s head shot towards him. “What?”

“Nevermind,” the purple-haired Troll quickly said, plastering a nothing-is-wrong grin on his face. “Now, who wants gumdrops?”

[desceros]

ajkfljskj I saw you were taking requests now and I lowkey just- 👀 I'm having sexy Bayverse Turtles intrusive thoughts. Imma share a Leo one. Ever imagined Bay!Leo sharing his hobbies with reader after she earned his trust and teaching her Japanese calligraphy? Him watching her skin glow in the candlelight, dreaming to use her naked body as a canvas for a Japanese love poem written in kanji? Sexual tension, mixed with slow, agonizing brushstrokes? Cuz I have 😏 -💙

so i got this and immediately i was like 'omg. this would work So Well as a deleted scene of sorts for tea-verse' so that's what it ended up as. kind of sexual tension but it edges more on pining. also, i'm burning now, thank you everyone for playing, we had a great run here on desceros dot com leonardo x reader; T, GN!reader, 1.8k; leo pining like a TREE. officially takes place after the leaf scene in this fic if you want context for some of the subtler touches but tl;dr reader always makes leo his tea. (the fic itself has a female reader but this snippet is GN)

He wonders if you know. 

You’ve caught him staring, before. It makes his shell feel tight, his skin too-hot. Even with mating season coming up, it’s too soon for him to be reacting like this; the burning ache that comes just from the bell of your voice, the alluring sway of your footsteps as you come to his side. And yet he does. Because it’s you. Just because it’s you.

“Okay, I’m excited for this,” you tell him, teeth biting into a smile as you tuck as close as you can without touching. He knows you do it for him, that you stay away because of his wishes, but it’s an agony all the same. The sweet smell of your soap haunts him, even under the burn of the incense that ghosts the room with smoke.

“Yeah?” he asks, pleased when he sees the happy, easy glow of your face. 

“Are you kidding? It’s so pretty,” you say. “Plus I like how the ink smells. It smells really nice with the tea when I bring it in.” 

Pretty, he echoes, trailing his eyes down to your throat, your shoulders, your hands. The way all your angles and curves catch the candlelight and dance in a softness that makes his palms ache with emptiness.

…He wonders if you know how soft you make him.

“Okay. Tell me the names for everything,” you tell him, studying the tools laid out before him, a gentle eagerness brightening your eyes. He smiles, turning his head and gesturing at everything to share its proper name in Japanese, then English. Grinding the ink, he explains the process, looking to you and your fascinated expression and trying to remember to breathe.

“What do you want me to write?” he asks once he’s ready, causing you to look at him and smile.

“What do you want to write?” you ask. 

Reaching out, he picks up the brush between his fingers. He studies the paper before him, blank and infinite, but his mind is somewhere else. 

…It had rained, a few days ago. You’d come into the lair drenched, laughing as Splinter had sent him off to bring you a towel. He’d returned in time to see you lift your shirt, squeezing it out over the storm drain, miles and miles and miles of skin stretching before his eyes. The curve of your spine as you turned to speak to his father, the arch of your hips as you leaned to twist the fabric, the pull of skin over your flesh. Breathless, motionless, frozen, he’d faltered in the doorway, ensorcelled by the image forever, marked, seared into his mind.

It’s that sight that comes to his mind, now, as he closes his eyes. 

He could do it, he thinks. He could ask you to turn, to pull your shirt over your head. It’s so easy to imagine the way your shoulder blades would curve, the dip of your spine, the way you’d shiver when he pressed the brush to your skin. It would tickle, at first, until you got used to it; then you’d sigh, still, and let him spread his soul onto your canvas.

Oh, all the things he wants to write there, where it would sink into your flesh like a brand. All the little ghosts of you that haunt him, memorialized with love in charcoal: the way your teeth catch your lip, the flash of skin at your hemline when you stretch your arms above your head, the wet press of your tongue to your lips when they're dry, the way your eyes flutter shut when you have your first sip of tea, the hum of pleasure you give when it tastes good. 

…He’d make you feel so good.

“…Leo?”

Leo opens his eyes, feeling the hunger in them, letting them get as far as your mouth before he turns them back to the paper before him. A pointless daydream, a torment of his own making. 

“…Sorry. I was just thinking,” he says, and it’s not a lie, not entirely, but also nothing but. There is nothing just about the way that you consume him.

It’s easy, then, to think of what to write. In long, elegant nine strokes that pull from his shoulder, he glides the brush over the paper. Each inch of ink carries a memory of you, your hands as you pass him a teacup, your care in checking the flavor, your endless drive to perfect the art just for him. 

“…Tea,” you recognize, proving your familiarity with the subject. He smiles; of course you’d recognize it, what with how often the two of you share.

“Tea,” he echoes, waiting until the ink is dry enough to handle before he takes the paper and hands it to you. “Here. For you.” 

“Wh—Really?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“Of course. It’s about time I gave some tea to you, after all,” he says with a smile that makes you laugh. He tucks the sound into his heart, next to all of the others. 

“It’s beautiful, Leo,” you compliment, holding it before you. Your eyes take in every stroke, awe open and genuine, before they meet his own and your smile goes warm like the sun. “Thank you. I’m going to hang it somewhere nice in my apartment.” 

And oh, but you are the sun, he thinks, heart pounding as he watches your fingers trail down the edge of the paper. Reaching out with warmth, lighting everything you touch, smiling as everyone around you basks in your radiant glow. What is life without you, he wonders, chest aching and so full and so empty all at once it hurts. Madness. 

…He wonders if you know. 

[obsidianpen]

hi pen!! i was re-reading NG (again) and i noticed something. in the first few chapters when H was still imprisoned in the dungeons he sometimes had dreams (more like nightmares) and i wonder if they somehow relate to something that happens in the future. kinda like foreshadowing. for example: in Precious he dreamt he was being chased by snakes while V was calling out his name and later on in (i think) Ruination what happened was pretty similar. there are some differences like the sky being crimson and all but still there are similarities. another example is in An Altogether Different Game where H dreamt he was in the cave and inside the basin (😏) was a bird in color while everything else was black and white. now maybe this is a stretch but i kinda interpreted it as the moment in the cave (yk which one) representing a change in their relationship bc of the deal they made and by admitting they had power over one another and the bird therefore being the symbol of that change. now i could be totally wrong and just reading too much into things or you are a genius that despite saying you don’t plan everything out for the future of the story you still somehow make these incredible parallels. also i apologise if you have answered this before. im a relatively new fan of your stories and only been following NG for a little more than a year. when i read it the first time i think i went on your tumblr 2 years back and since then i’ve been reading everything that pops up so if it has been asked it’s been a long time. also totally understand if you can’t answer this and ill be grateful even if i get a 🤐 back. i just really love your work and wanted to share this theory (?) with you and with all the other that also adore this story. hope you and your fam are doing well and wishing you all the best 🩷

so I think ‘you are a genius that despite saying you don’t plan everything out for the future of the story you still somehow make these incredible parallels.’ is the most accurate thing here (though I don’t agree with the genius part 😆). Haven’t thought about those dream sequences in a while. But uh. Yeah look at all that foreshadowing and symbolism there lmao! I imagine I would have had similar thoughts when I finally do a reread/edit of my own soon ish!! That’s always how my artwork happened too, so I guess this is just my ‘process’ with any medium. Make first, understand wtf it all was and how it all fits together later 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[delopsia]

Here’s a rose 🌹 for your bday.

Sending this via pigeon post.

Characters: Rhett, Bob and reader.

Title: Sorry

The smuttier the better if you please 😏

This one was something else 😵 lord have mercy Join my Birthday Bouquet Event! 💐

It's the snap of a whimper that darts across the room—punched from Bobby's throat by a heavy thrust. Bursting past the hands that have clasped over his own mouth. His unfocused eyes flutter, feet stumbling across the floor. 

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Bobby," you coo, mocking. All three of you know full well how thin that wall is—practically a sheet of paper separating you from the small party of friends camped in the living room. 

And this office door doesn't lock. 

Rhett's hips roll in a loose circle. A lazy motion that has Bob's eyes rolling, a shiver visibly jolting up his spine. Even from here, perched on the desk, you can see how wide he's stretched around Rhett's cock, damn near split in two.  

"Feels good, don't it?" Rhett grunts through that upturned, lopsided grin. Downright proud of what he's doing. The way that he's got your WSO falling apart, bent over his own office desk. "Know it does. Can feel your tight lil ass shiverin' 'round me." 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bobby can hardly keep himself quiet, "I didn't mean to—fuck, right there." Dissolving into a mindless babble of your names, his loose hands struggling to stay over his mouth. You know what he was trying to do earlier. Rhett knows it, too. And it's a wonder your quests didn't figure it out, either. 

Subtle teasing has never really been Bob's specialty. 

What was he thinking would happen when he squirmed his ass into Rhett's lap and drew your hand beneath the blanket? Daring to press your palm right against the hard bulge between his legs, blissfully unaware of how anyone could tilt their head and see where your arm was going. 

"You're getting too loud, baby," your warning comes in the form of a whisper, nearly covered up by the soft 'ah, ah, ah's falling off Bob's sweet tongue. 

But Rhett's one step ahead of you. His firm hand pressing into the soft space between Bob's shoulder blades. It's the final straw. Bobby's elbows hit the mahogany tabletop, collapsing forward, his pretty face burying between your legs.  

[welcome-to-oslov]

The reminder of Vexonil, and how sensory-enhancing/control-reducing Tilrey found it, made me wonder. Which sense would Tilrey find hardest to endure being taken away during sex with a councillor or driver?

He was surprised to enjoy the sensation of his wrists & arms being restrained during sex with Gourmanian, but usually didn't like that. Other than that, I don't think he's lost his ability to see, hear, talk, move, or feel certain areas during sex (except for the lack of control on Vexonil and how it enhanced the feeling of being raped, and he did hate being in the darkness and confinement of IntSec).

I think something that made him not in control of understanding what's happening to him would be hardest.

Perhaps a numbing cream where he can't feel being touched on his skin, until he suddenly begins to feel deep stretching and pressure inside or his cock responding? Or waking up in earplugs & blindfold so he can't tell what's going on or who's there as things start, and stop, and start? I feel like Gourmanian & I should get together for a free night, not him & Saldegren or him & Makari 😅🤷‍♀️

I think Gourmanian needs you to give him some inspiration! 😂 He’s been relatively vanilla so far.

I can see Tilrey finding those kinds of sensory deprivation unbearable, because he wants to have control so badly. A numbing cream would reduce the sensations, but at the price of destroying his fragile sense of mastery of the situation. The sense of touch is so basic, so necessary to orient ourselves in the world, that that might be the worst one for him to lose. But losing his sight and hearing would also be very difficult.

I guess you could say that when Tilrey dissociates, he’s distancing himself from the sensations. But he always imagines looking at himself from above or a safe distance, watching it happen, so he maintains the sense of control. If someone else forcibly dissociated him from his own body, that would be different and scary, as with the vexonil.

Or maybe sensory deprivation could sometimes be good, too? Trippy? Arousing? I wonder, since I know it’s used for therapy sometimes. Anyway, thank you for giving *me* some possible inspirations! 😏

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Pregnancy and birth do things to a womans body so after the second or third pregnancy does Elaine ever get insecure? The stretch marks, the saggy skin in areas, I think it’s beautiful but Elvis was always peculiar on the way people looked but he may have found it more beautiful because she got those growing his children

Aha, so…this is a very valid consideration and one I intend to explore in fic form but until then, let us have a few half baked thoughts, here’s to hoping you like cookie dough. 😏

He was most definitely particular (some might say to the point of extreme vanity and oppressiveness) in regards to image, presentation and a sort of decorum, and I might add it seems to me that it fluctuated with his career. There was certainly a fastidiousness about the front he presented that I can totally relate to, actually. I think it good to keep in mind how seriously he tried to take the influence he had on the public, considering his purpose to both entertain and uplift. He expected a high standard in women, one he did not hold himself to but matched in other areas. And in many ways he represents a lost generation where dignity meant getting outta your PJs in the morning for the morale, your morale, like a soldier shaving despite living in a foxhole. So, those are perhaps the more substantive reasons for his preoccupation with image, and we certainly have a glimpse into what darkness that could turn into with the “truth” according to Pricilla. (zero shade intended, just a acknowledging a bias there)

Now, let’s see what else we know of this man and his love and loyalty to the “imperfect.” He was consistently unashamed and purposeful to love on and be seen with those who the world at large labels “disabled.” His own mother, like he himself in later life, struggled with the publicity shined on their body weight in a entirely callous era of journalism -through it all he remained devoted and proud of their love, his choice was to repeatedly have her front and center. What am I getting at here? Elvis was a nice guy cause he hung out with other people besides Barbie Dolls? Nope, rather, when he had an affection for and a reason for loyalty to someone, it didn’t matter much at all to him what the world at large said or thought of them.

So let’s imagine a world where he’s married to Elaine, a woman who was already blessed with acknowledged beauty and assets, in a era of girdles and privileged with a celebrity lifestyle, who had no desire to be a star or a model. She wanted to use her body up having kids and while they both may have been surprised at the toll at times, I think the fact that she had the luxury to just be in her skin, not trying to trim down for the next role or modeling gig would do wonders for her recovery and self esteem. It’s still brutal to be Elvis Presley’s wife, and let’s just say the late 60’s are an unkind time and the little movie star floozies keep getting younger and tinier and it’s all a bit of an ouch, but ultimately? -She is his wife, the love of his life and his rabid sentimentality does indeed translate to the marks and scars and testaments to the family they built now branded on her skin.

[weebsinstash]

I’ve actually always wondered about the jealous worker thing like image we as readers still try to make the best of everything and try to hang out and make new friends but the rest of the workers just either don’t wanna hang out since their already mad or just don’t like reader because of the same reason and readers over here depressed about havin no friends and Val’s ass is like “it’s ok baby cakes, I’ll be your friend :>” 😏😮‍💨

The idea of like, Valentino having a spare old set that isn't being used at the porn studio that he rents to you as a room, is already enough of a stretch right, but sometimes I sit and think like, how extremely unsafe that is for so many reasons. You have to go elsewhere to eat or bathe, locking up your room with a spare key (and of course Valentino also has a key and will let himself in whenever he pleases), and sometimes I think about like, how maliciously bullied you could be

You step out of your room as Val texts you to run him and get him some food, and you're literally walking in the door with it when someone deliberately trips you and makes you drop it all. Oh, you just got some new clothes after wearing hand me downs for ages to save money? Whoops, a coworker of yours 'accidentally' crashes into you and spills drinks all over you. A particular possessive dancer doesn't like how Valentino complimented your makeup? You return from running errands to your room broken into, trashed, LOOTED

Like imagine if Valentino had some sort of gift placed into your room, unwrapped, and when he sees that you haven't seen it, he accompanies you to go see what you've got, and you both walk in on your room either straight up trashed and his gifts ruined, or the thieves still in there and playing around with whatever he's gotten you (probably some sort of makeup or jewelry) and of course he intervenes then, because they're wasting his money

I can also imagine like, he isn't being 100% fake about it, but Valentino absolutely uses the fact he has tons of power (both as am Overlord and as your boss) to seem like the gracious savior to your sorry state. Oh, you tearfully tell him you're going to be late on rent? Oh, no problem doll, you've been so good at being on time that he can let it slide just this once. Oh, you were robbed on your way to bring him rent? Take a lil trip outside to ride around in the limo with him and point the punk out. A customer at the strip club groped you? Everyone else is told to put up with it, but anyone who does it to you is given a warning first and a bullet second

Like he absolutely knows how to manipulate and mindfuck people. Poor Reader is so scared and alone and needing support and he's in the position to make your life significantly easier. Can you imagine if you've worked for him a few months and you kind of comment that you don't have much money for anything besides rent, and he tells you, you know what, why doesn't he bump that number down, since you've proven yourself to be so nice and trustworthy and you've also been such a good little groupie for him? Like just like that? And sure, the reality is he was privately overcharging you what the room was worth anyways, but it doesn't change the absolute relief you feel. He starts being nice to you and you fall into the trap of "well, yeah sure he's a pimp, but, I never see any of that, and he's nice to me, and I have to take what I can get"

I'm still an absolute fiend for the idea of "customer really scares the shit out of you and maybe even tries to hurt you and Val uses the moment to his advantage". Like since you just wait on a small area of people, mostly exclusively Valentino, maybe you have a lot of free time or do other tasks, so imagine someone tells you to take the trash out, ignoring your protests that going out by yourself isn't really safe, and sure enough, a customer who's been coming on to you is waiting outside and you just barely get away from him after he tries to grab you. Another shift, and he's in the club, waiting for you by the bathrooms. This guy is stalking you, telling you to stop playing hard to get, maybe he even grabs you so hard he leaves a bruise. And you don't tell Val because you've heard certain other stories about, "well if you aren't one of his favorites, he doesn't care as long as you can keep making money" so there you are, pouring Valentino another refill and he turns his head when he sees your hands are just SHAKING, and he reaches out to tilt your chin up and ask, "what happened?" and you start to smile and act like it's fine but you just burst into tears because this guy is literally threatening shit like fucking you with a knife, and you roll up your sleeve to show the Overlord the big dark bruise where you were grabbed

Like you've been trying to keep to yourself and really not even talk to Val because you know he's still pretty scary and he knows you as this kind of shy quiet little cutie he has t had the time to start giving his full attention to and now you're just big boo hoo blubbering tears, "I'm really scared Mister Valentino"

And to top off the favorite part of the idea, obviously I can see this scenario happening a few different ways, but imagine after you breakdown and tell Val a few details, you just run off because you're crying and feeling humiliated and you're thinking he doesn't care so you just feel stupid and weak, and THIS is when your stalker appears again, and Val rocks up with that hot pink gun of his when he decides, "hey my lil shorty has been gone too long" and he walks in on this guy trying to rip your clothes off, strangle you, or both. And of course you run up to the Overlord just trembling and clutching at him and hiding behind him because he's huge and scary and of course, Valentino certainly doesn't mind how you're clinging to him. And before you know it, he's got you sitting next to him on his sofa, sidled right up besides him, you being very much EAGER to cuddle with him like this since you know, or at least terrified enough to be convinced, that no one is going to bother you while you're with the Overlord.

And of course, it's a week later, and he still wants you to cuddle up to him again, and again, and again, and eventually you realize, "oh wait, he's no longer actually giving me a choice in the matter, I'm just straight up like his new girlfriend" and by that point he's already making plans to get you all fixed up at the salon with him and take you to his stylist to get you a little red jacket like what he has Angel wear sometimes and, you know just #possessivepimpthings where he officially begins to transition you into his propery

Tbh I'm starting to become like obsessed with the idea of him quite literally taking you everywhere to the point its virtually 24/7 and you're living in his house and sleeping in his bed and BATHING WITH HIM because he's treating you like a partner/pet and controls every aspect of your life down to the shampoo you use and your skincare routine, but that's a story for another time 👀

[envihellbender]

a sequel for the rebel ben +hux emperor vader au please😏

Thanks for the request! For reference, part one is here:

Characters: Ben Solo (rebel), Lieutenant-General Hux, Emperor Vader

Fandom: Star Wars

Ben could have used his new found freedom to escape, or warn the rebels, but he knew that was a stupid plan. Instead, he simply wandered the corridors - suspiciously at first. As soon as he left the bridge he quickly looked to either side of himself, his force blocking collar made him vulnerable and unable to properly scope his surroundings. He expected at any minute to have guards dragging him back to his cell, this whole thing having been some sick game. However, it seemed that wasn’t the case. He felt finally free for a moment, his collar didn’t seem to stop the thoughts of others entering his mind and he’d been surrounded by guards thinking about what they’d like to the “pretty little rebel dog”. Even worse was hearing what went through Lieutenant-General Hux’s mind, and for some reason his thoughts were louder than everyone else’s. When he was far away from the bridge and unsure where he was, simply following the corridors hadn’t done him much good a voice filled his mind.

“Ben, come to me…”

He froze, he recognised it. He heard it many times before, a voice he had been manipulated and tricked by as a child. He swallowed, frantically looking from side to side in hopes that it would simply be some stormtrooper instead. No such luck. Against his better judgement, he followed it - he felt it get louder and stronger as he turned right and headed down a flight of stairs. He felt the voice laugh, making his fists screw tight and his jaw clench. He felt his steps quicken into a sprint, and when he rounded a corner turning left he was stopped on his tracks by a Stormtrooper.

“Erm… Skywalker, sir?” The soldier asked, Ben stared at him with furrowed eyes.

“I’m… Ben Solo.”

“Erm, right. Well. I’m unit FN-2187 and I’m supposed to show you to your quarters.”

“Oh. Okay,” Ben replied, he turned back over his shoulder. He felt a smugness, and quiet chuckle as the voice quietened. He followed the Stormtrooper who seemed nervous, as if he hadn’t been here long. He’d heard about Lieutenant-General Hux’s child soldiers, poor brainwashed kids, some even feral children from desert planets, who were trained with a similar program from Brendol Hux’s academy. As Ben followed the white armoured soldier round a series of identical corridors he wondered how old he was, what he looked like under his helmet. Suddenly the soldier stopped, causing Ben to stumble.

“We’re here,” he said unnecessarily. He tapped a code into the door and turned to walk away.

“Erm, are you going to tell me the code?” Ben asked.

“Oh! Yeah. Fuck. It’s erm. 0311,” he said over his shoulder before hurrying away. Ben swore under his breath, of course Vader would choose that number. He was toying with him again. Ben entered his room, his thick eyebrows raised as he did. The doors shut behind him automatically and the lights came on. It was fairly spacious, it had a large double bed, a few screens he assumed showed holoprograms and such things, a comfortable looking sofa and an en-suite bathroom. He fell onto the bed, stretching out long limbs as he body finally relaxed. After being in a cell for so long he had to admit he was quite pleased to be here. A well furnished, spacious, private cell was definitely an improvement.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the way his door opened and beeped told made him awake with a start. His eyes were half lidded and he sat up, scowling when he realised who was at the end of his bed.

“Well, pleased to see your getting your rest, Solo,” Hux snarled. Ben scrambled to his feet, taking a few steps towards him with a scowl on his face.

“I wouldn’t try anything, I’m not locked up now remember,” Ben smirked, he looked Hux up and down, everything he’d heard had been correct. He might have ended up back in a cell if he attacked Hux, but he’d he damned if he was going to let some spoiled, Imperial brat get the better of him.

[hyngx]

MY TIME HAS COME

ok so andrew's name actually is already biblical, it being andrew joseph minyard; andrew was an apostle of jesus, and joseph was the son of jacob. there are actually some notable events in bible andrew's and aftg andrew's lives.

bible andrew was known as Prōtoklētos or first-called in the gospel of john. this is because he was the first to meet jesus and also the first of his twelve apostles! he was a fisherman and was fishing with his brother when jesus approached and asked him to become a "fisher of men". andrew, upon recognizing jesus as the messiah (the savior), recruited his brother simon peter to follow jesus as well.

and what happens to aftg andrew pre-tfc? he is recruited by wymack and sees an opportunity for his family (aaron because he needed the scholarship, and nicky because he deserved something good). essentially, he did "fish men" and recruited people into the foxes because he believed that it would benefit them, hence why he might view wymack as their "savior". not only that, neil speculates that part of kevin's reasons for transfer is andrew.

moving on to joseph (genesis) because i might yap too much if i focus on both, but things happened that eventually led to his brothers being jealous and selling him (he's innocent). long story short, he became an important person in the pharaoh's court (😏) because he could interpret dreams and gave the pharaoh advice in order for egypt to prosper.

how does this relate to aftg andrew joseph? this might be a bit of a stretch but it does share parallelisms to how tilda left him, forcing him to move around in the foster system before eventually becoming a fox. his talents at exy, like joseph's skill at dream interpretation, becomes his key to a better life (pro team! neil!) and i think that's wonderful...

going back to names though, andrew means "man" in greek while joseph can mean "god shall add" coming from the greek word that means "to add, increase"

his name literally can literally mean the man who will add.

you know what else his name can mean, though? the man who will give.

he gives neil a phone. a key to his house. kisses. a reason to live.

anyway i think nora just did eeny-meeny-miny-mo for their names lol

this has probably been said before but you know what kills me about aftg

you have renee right. her whole backstory revolves around being a "reborn", and her two names (besides their religious roots) literally mean "dedicated to the festivity of birth" and "reborn", plus the sheer fact that she goes by the middle one shows how she chooses her "second life" over who she was etc etc

and then you have just. "andrew"

[birdlungg]

Jason and his little family are so cute! But could I possibly get a Jason x wife reader as to how baby Pamela was conceived👀 I’m just in need of a really good and rough Jason smut😍😏

I WAS ALSO IN THE MOOD FOR JASON SMUT

I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK

SLIGHT BREEDING KINK>>>

in my headcanons Jason can speak he just doesn't do it often since he shouts for help in the first movie ;((

It's also a bit long

NSFW 18+ ONLY

A shortcut through the baby section on the way to the men's is when a tiny onesie caught your eye.

It was a pale yellow color with "Happy Camper" written at the top and an adorable little smiling campfire beneath it. It was nothing special, but it stayed on your mind for weeks, and you couldn't get rid of the thought of Jason with a baby out of your mind.

But how would Jason feel about starting a family? He didn't have the best childhood, and while you knew he would love the baby with all his heart, you didn't want to bring up bad memories for him. You knew that you would eventually need to talk about it with him, but for now, you are content to just daydream.

You finally bring it up to him one night when you are snuggling in bed. Jason is reclined on his back with you nestled into his chest as you talk happily about your day. When the conversation comes to a natural lull, you finally decide to speak what's been on your mind.

"Jason," you say softly, sitting up on your hip so you can look him in the eye. "I wanted to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me." He looks at you curiously and grunts a questioning noise.

"Do you... Do you eventually want to have a baby?" You ask carefully. He looks surprised, before his eyebrows furrow and he purses his warped lips as he thinks. It's quiet between you, and you rub gently at his chest letting him know you are there for him but also giving him his time to think.

"I think, a baby would be good. But what if they look like me?" He bites the words out hoarsely and avoids looking at you. He knows that you don't like when he puts himself down because of his appearance but still believes his words to be true.

You grab his chin gently and turn his face so he's looking you right in the eyes.

"A baby as beautiful as you? I would love nothing else. You know that I think you are the most handsome man I've ever seen. I would love whatever baby you give me, regardless of how they look. As long as they are happy and healthy." You give him a soft kiss on his forehead as he gives you a happy smile.

"You don't have to make a decision tonight. I just wanted to see what you thought, and I will love you no less if you decide you don't want a baby, ok?" You ask him. He nods and pulls you back down to his side, sighing deeply as you nestle into him.

You leave it be after then, deciding not to bring it up until he does, as to give him time to think. What you don't know, is that Jason has been thinking about getting you pregnant almost 24/7 since then.

He thinks about how beautiful you would look while you're making his baby. How good you would feel when he's stuffing you full. How big your breasts would get with time, and how wonderful you would look with stretch marks.

Of course, he's also thinking about what a wonderful mother you would make, but for now, he has a one track mind. 

He finally makes his decision know to you when you’re about to make love one afternoon. You’re both naked as you straddle him where he leans against the headboard. You kiss slowly, just feeling your bodies pressed up against each other. You pull away, needing a moment to breath, feeling your pebbled nipples rub up against Jason’s bare chest. He’s looking at you with eyes so full love that you feel like your heart was going to burst.

Then, he takes a hand from where it was placed on your hip and moves it slowly to your stomach, eye following. He presses gently and brings his eyes up to meet yours. You know everything that you need to without him saying anything, and you can feel your eyes starting to mist over. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him tearfully. He gives no answer, and instead rolls you under him in one fluid motion and sheathes himself inside your cunt. You gasp out in shock and pleasure, but he pays no mind, pistoning his hips into you hard as he fucks your cunt open. The headboard slamming against the wall is so loud that it drowns out your moans and his grunts, getting faster and faster as you both near orgasm. You come before him, clamping down and milking him for all he’s worth. He comes deep inside you, almost like he’s trying to kiss your cervix with his cock. 

As you both come down from your highs, he stays nestled deep within you, gathering you in his arms and turning so you are facing each other on your sides. He grabs one of your hands and kisses your knuckles before placing it palm down on your lower belly with his large hand over yours. 

Hopefully you would see the results soon, but he doesn’t mind trying harder next time. 

[lilac-5ky]

Heyyyy😏 can you write something for Gintoki where you get in an argument with him (cause he’s a jerk) and then he says something so back handed to you (cause he’s a jerk) and you just walk of and like cry or sumn cause it hurt so much and he just tries to apologize and it gets a little emotional idk I just need something that’ll hurt me a little bit 😔😣

A/N: Hi! I feel like Gintoki is more likely to apologize through his action than his words, and so his apology is mostly done than said :p Not sure if this is super angsty, but I hope it's good enough!

Plot: Gin being a piece of shit who never cleans and upsets poor innocent reader with his attitude.

Warning: Gets a bit suggestive with language and some minor angst ig?

Arguing with Gintoki (x Fem!Reader)

(just look at him being disgusting and cute.)

There are many reasons for one to pick a fight with Gintoki. Be it Otose arguing with him over rent delays, or Kagura and Shinpachi demanding their pay, there’s always someone at odds with the Odd Jobs’ boss.

However, when it came down to you, perhaps you had an easier time letting things slip. You’d stayed around long enough to get acclimated to all those wacky situations Gintoki involved himself in, as well as his hectic and lazy persona.

At this point, you’d earned yourself the nickname “saint” from his peers, considering how you seemed to be the only one with enough patience to put up with him. But even a saint’s patience has its limits.

When you walked into Yorouzya on a day like any other, finding an absolute war-zone where his couch once stood, not even that Buddha’s patience of yours was enough to shield your faint heart.

No way in hell would you willingly pick up his dirty underwear off the fan, or clean after the millions of empty takeout boxes residing under the kotatsu (just how much food can a person consume overnight?!), while Gintoki remained idly picking on his nose like a primadonna. This had to end.

“Gin,” you asked in a near pleading tone that went unnoticed.

“Gin?” Your second attempt was too ignored, his attention monopolized by the weather girl inside the little black screen.

Frustrated beyond compare, you threw about the first object your hands could find onto his head, leaving him with no other choice but to face you. The noodle box ended up landing like a party hat, with a string of curry dropping down his forehead. He sported a somewhat disturbed look, though that wasn’t enough to prevent him from turning back to the tv the second the noodle box fell to the floor.

“Gin!” Unable to contain your temper, you jumped to block his view.

“Huh? Y/N?” Gintoki queried as if he wasn’t even aware of your presence in prior, something that only added fuel to the fire. “What are you doing here?”

“Not cleaning your mess, that’s for sure. What’s this?” You paused to point at the underwear and then his leftovers. “And this? Who’s going to clean all this?”

“Quit nagging, it’s not even 12.” He yawned, stretching his limbs across the couch. “Kagura will probably feed them to Sadaharu, or Tama will pass by later. Just leave them be.”

You couldn’t believe in your eyes, or rather your ears. How could someone this irresponsible be running a business, when this was the kind of reception he had in store for any poor soul that dared walk in? It wasn’t as if Yorozuya was ever the pantheon of work ethics to begin with, but this was too much even for him. Feeding the trash to the dog, just what was he thinking?

“Are you for real? Why would…? Who would… ?” One unfinished sentence followed the other while you struggled to find the right words. “Nevermind. It’s no wonder no one sets foot in here nowadays. Only an idiot would choose another hare-brained idiot to handle their job for them.” You spat bitterly.

“Then I guess that makes you into an even greater idiot, Y/N. Or else you wouldn’t be showing at my doorstep to bitch about something this trivial, especially when it’s none of your concern.” He followed in the same tone, bringing the already heavy atmosphere even further down.

“It’s none of my concern whether my boyfriend’s house reeks like a dumpster? Or whether it gets infested with cockroaches? Then whose is it?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You know, since I too spend the night here from time to time, I would appreciate if the smell of soured ramen didn’t have to compete with that of your underwear.”

Gintoki sighed in response, lazily combing through his disheveled hair with one hand. You’d always been fond of that scruffy appearance of his, but right now, all it did was add more fuel to the fire, providing you with yet another reason to stay mad at his disposition.

“And do something about your appearance already! It looks as if a crow nested in there!”

“Oi, Y/N. Is it that day of the month? I don’t remember you being such an overbearing control freak.”

“I don’t remember you being such a bum.” You argued back.

“If I’m such a bum then why do you insist on coming here?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

The lack of sound succeeding your heated exchange was perhaps even more disturbing than the argument itself. You got so caught up in talking back to him, that before you knew it, such regrettable words came pouring out your mouth.

“What are you standing here for?” Gintoki asked, his otherwise dead fish eyes now beaming with resentment. “The door is right there. Leave.”

Was this really… it? Was he about to forsake everything the two of you had come to be over a silly argument?

With your questions unanswered and your steps heavier than before, you paced outside Yorozuya. This definitely wasn’t the kind of time you’d hoped to spend over at his place. Part of you expected to hear his voice a final time, to receive the affirmation that this was nothing but a silly lover’s quarrel, though silence came to be your sole companion. Silence, and whatever this gut wrenching emotion was.

Little by little, you felt the oxygen within your lungs igniting you whole, slowly burning at your fuse until you couldn’t go on anymore. Crouched near the ground, all you could do was bawl right outside Otose’s bar, meekly hoping that no one was around to notice your muffled cries.

Was it frustration or was it hurt? You couldn’t tell. The only thing you knew was that this was the first time you’d ever felt such uncertainty. Shoes of different color stopped before you, each pair belonging to yet another passerby who felt entitled to shoot his look of pity your way, but not entitled enough to pry any further, to approach any closer.

It was your fault. If only you’d kept your mouth shut, then nothing would have happened. Gintoki wouldn’t get annoyed, he wouldn’t raise his voice, he wouldn’t dare say such horrible things, and he…you…

No. It was his fault for being this messy and unjust. Even if you were a bit too harsh, you acted out of genuine concern. You had no intention to watch as he festered within the four rusty walls of his house. Gintoki had always been the kind to take care of everyone, but when it came down to his own self, he seldom bothered to lift a finger.

What others attributed as mere laziness, you knew better. It was almost as if by wallowing in such unspoken misery, he was atoning for something. As if he was repenting for past sins only he knew of. Either way, his disregard for his own well-being showed in every single aspect of his lifestyle. From the sorry state of his house, to his own unkempt appearance.

You remembered of the first time you met Gin. You recalled thinking how despite his exterior, he bore resemblance to a mirror. A blurred, borderline shattered glass, be it one that let you see an image of yourself clearer than any you’d seen before. The good with the bad, the beauty and the ugliness, the flaws and the imperfections. Everything that made you into who you were was right there, delving in those maroon eyes of his.

Perhaps Gintoki was never meant to shine on his own. Perhaps his strength lied in making others shine brightest, in reflecting not the image you longed to see, but the one closest to reality.

You liked yourself when you were with him. You felt certain and grounded at the same time. That should you ever lose your way, one look at him would be enough to guide you back. You liked that, but more importantly, you liked him. That silver gleam of his was what made you fall for him in the first place.

He was right. You were overbearing and overzealous and butted in his business without thinking twice, and that was precisely why you wouldn’t give up on him. No matter what it took, you’d never quit clearing his soul off the distortions haunting it. Not before making sure that the man known as Sakata Gintoki would never grow dim, that was.

And so, you wiped the tears with the back of your hand and rose to your feet. One by one, you climbed the steps to Yorozuya all the way to the top where you stood still. What would you say to him? Apologies were never your forte and neither his. Showing up to clean his apartment as if you were part of a clean-up crew didn’t seem like a great idea either, especially when one considered the nature of your argument. What if he pushed you away again? What if he demanded that you leave?

No. No, even if he did that, there was no way you’d run. It didn’t matter if he called you names, if he dragged you outside or any of these things, really. You’d made up your mind to clean after his own mess for however long he needed you to. Until he learned to do it for himself. Until he was forced to get a real look at who he really was. That self destruction bullshit of his had to end.

Before you had the chance to contemplate any longer, the door went wide open with Gintoki appearing on the other side, evidently taken aback by your sudden reappearance.

“I-” You said in unison, each stopping at the other’s interruption.

“You-“Another failed attempt.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to blurt out everything without giving him the chance to cut in a third time. Here goes nothing.

“I’m sorry for acting like an evil mother-in-law and yelling at you the way I did. You are right, I am an overbearing control freak, but I never meant to criticize you. I felt as if that was the only way to make you listen, and I honestly can’t stand to see you living life in a swap because, Gintoki, to me you are someone very important and I only want to see you thrive. Why are you so unkind towards your own self? No matter what happened in the past, you shouldn’t let it bring you down.”

You took a short pause. Perhaps giving him a lecture about past trauma would only get him to retreat further in his shell.

“My point is, I don’t intend to stop bitching at you. Whether you like it or not, I’ll keep interfering in your business, until you stop doing yourself injustice. So please, accept my earnest concern and, for the love of god, allow me to clean your house.”

Your outburst imposed a bemused expression on his face, one that was quickly replaced by a forced snort.

“What are you talking about?” Gin leaned against the frame with his index lazily poking past the shell of his ear. “I don’t recall you paying any visits whatsoever.”

“Wait- what?”

“You play weird pranks, Y/N. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Or is this a dream you are talking about?”

It was your turn to be dumbfounded. Was this a joke or was he simply going to act as if the whole incident never occurred in the first place?

“Why are you looking at me like that? Did I grow an extra set of balls on my forehead?” He asked, patting down his head.

You brushed his comment off, unsure of what to say next. The mood had completely shifted with Gin returning to his usual “charming” self, something over which you were truthfully thankful. Of course his throwing you out meant nothing. After all, this was nothing but a silly lover’s quarrel.

“No… but looks like your wish is granted.” You jested, removing a noodle that was dangling between silver strands of hair. “It’s finally straightening up.”

Gintoki frowned, looking away while you chuckled.

“If you have the time to be running your mouth, come in already.” He mumbled before scooting to the side.

Upon entering the hallway, the first thing to catch your attention was the scent. It smelled like primrose and magnolia, the sweet vanilla essence completely taking over the foul odor previously emitted by his living room. Did someone visit him while you were gone, or did he actually douse it with perfume?

As the two of you progressed to the living room, your surprise only increased, to the point of making you wonder whether you’d entered the wrong building. Rather than encounterig the same chaos you did earlier, you found a spotless table and an even more spotless couch. The noodle boxes, the plastic cutlery, even the half torn underwear; they had all disappeared.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d place your bet on a second Amanto invasion happening, but the moment you took notice in the half concealed mop lurking between the closet’s folds, there was no doubt anymore. He had cleaned. Gintoki had actually cleaned!

“Gin…” His name was cut in half by a sole sob.

“What are you crying for?” He asked, genuinely confused by your reaction.

“I can’t believe you did such a thing.” You went on, feeling truly grateful. “Everything is squeaky clean!”

Perhaps Gintoki sucked at apologies, but when it came to making things right, he never failed to impress. He always knew exactly what to do. A push was all he needed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gintoki said as he approached you from behind. “It’s always clean around here.”

You were about to object to that, when you felt a pair of arms snaking around your waist, pulling you closer for him to press his body against yours. Instinctively, you looked up at him, the look in his eyes indicating he was up to no good.

“But if cleanliness is not what you want, I know of a way to make things dirty again.”

On second thought, a bit of disarray never hurt.

[rose-edith]

You asking your boss Gibbs to help fix some things around your house because you know, he's good with his hands 😏 but you immediately start to develop a crush on him because he's wearing normal clothes and you love his forearms that kind of thing. In the end you start to break stuff deliberately so he has to keep coming back, but like maybe he catches you break something or he just twigs? Up to you ☺️

I like the way you’re thinking! Gibbs’s arms 😏 HIS HANDS. His…well everything frankly! Hope you like it!

Deliberately breaking stuff so Gibbs comes to help you would include:

•you absolutely never meant to play into the whole patriarchal ideal of femininity that is the idea of ‘damsel in distress’…but finding yourself distressed by your inability to fiddle with the electrics at your place did lead to Gibbs coming round to rescue you!

•before you had even finished awkwardly asking your boss if he knew a good electrician to help you out he’d said he’d do it himself- that he’d be round first thing in the morning.

•you knew he’d be good at things round the house, but seeing him so completely domesticated, in his own clothes, sleeves rolled up to the elbows…well you used the damsel in distress idea to your advantage, completely, thoroughly, entirely! (And no one blames you here, we’d all do the same!)

•and oh man were you glad you’d gotten out of your raggedy pyjamas before he’d arrived…and thank god all of your panties and bras that were on the airer drying were sexy, not huge and stained and old!

•the minute the electrics are done Gibbs spots something else, without you prompting he gets straight to it- he puts up your mirror, finishes off the shelving you’ve half started and then promises to come back the next day to paint the room- he’s spotted the paint you’ve brought.

•well, you’re in love. Crush? Pah! You’re in love, in lust, in NEED for Jethro. And you can’t help but bite your lips and watch as he stretches and bends while he paints your living room…oh how you wished something was broken in your bedroom…besides your vibrator that is…though you wonder, if you told Gibbs that would he help you out?

•you have to leave the room to make coffee at that point, if Gibbs had looked at you he surely would’ve known instantly what you’d been thinking.

•but then everything was done, and you were heartbroken that you’d have no more Jethro, no more sexy silver fox in your house doing all manner of wonderful work…not to mention the work he was doing in your imagination too!

•so you had to take things into your own hands. It was alarmingly easy to break your own front door lock- and Gibbs, gallant knight he is, came straight round to fix it so you could actually get in after a long day of work! And in return you’d made him some coffee…it felt like fate when the handle came off a mug in your hand, so then he had to stay a while longer to super glue the handle carefully back onto the mug, as it was your favourite!

•a few days later you found yourself crawling under your sink, reaching behind your cupboard to slash at the rubber tube of the washing machine. Then you turned it on and watched as your kitchen flooded! You had to try and sound panicked rather than jubilated when you called Jethro! But you managed and he came around.

•only this time he spotted it- the rubber tube wasn’t worn out or eroded, it had been cut cleanly, deliberately. But he fixed it. And then he felt it- he felt your eyes on him, he glanced into the washing machine door; you were staring, hungrily, unabashed at his ass as he was on his hands and knees. He ducked his head to smile. He should’ve realised!

•it was only after it was all in working order that he turned to you with a huge grin, saying that if you wanted to see him you could’ve just invited him round for coffee! Slowly he backs you up against the kitchen counter, lowly chuckling and asking if there’s anything else he can help you with?

• ‘Well, my vibrators broken…know any way to fix that?’ Your question was answered swiftly, his lips collided with yours gently, stealing your breath and leaving you like putty in his hands! (He was definitely better than your vibrator, as you soon found out! He couldn’t fix it, but it turns out that with him around you didn’t need it.)

[lowlights]

Laura I love you. Can I get Pero with "you taste so good" since we know man loves to eat? 😏😏

Hi, my lovely! Sorry this took so long. I hurt myself and couldn't type!! But I am well (enough) now and dying to share this little thing with you. Thank you for letting me include this in one of my favorite universes.

Something Sweet

Pairing: Pero x wife!reader , ~1k WC

Warnings: A little smut but not like- a lot. Enough. Oral, f!receiving. Menace Pero. You're not mad about it, even if you throw a spoon at him. I won't say anything else other than this is the Brujita-verse. Can be read as a standalone.

Series Masterlist

~~

“Pero, hands to yourself! I am doing my best to get your supper started. Why must you bother me at all hours?” you huff, smacking his snaking hand away from your bosom. He’s standing so close that you can feel his delighted chuckle on your back. 

“Can I be faulted for wanting my wife? I am just a humble man looking for a little treat,” he laments, resting his hands on your hips and tugging you back against him. He buries his face in your neck and inhales deeply. “You smell like the rosemary soap I love so much.” 

You attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, but he’s got a firm hold on you. “You just like me when I smell like food,” you say with a laugh, stretching as you reach for the spoon on the shelf. 

He hums against your ear. “You are my favorite meal, claro. Did you not tell me once that the rosemary is also for something? Protection, no? What does it protect against?” 

You finally wrestle free from him so that you can check the fire. “Protection from brutish husbands with wandering hands,” you tell him over your shoulder. 

He puts his hands on his hips and looks so very pleased with himself. “Ah, so it does not work! I knew it.” 

He barely ducks the wooden spoon that you launch at his head. 

“I jest, I jest. Mercy on this poor brute’s soul,” he says as he walks over to you with both hands raised in surrender. “You have been in a foul mood for days, perhaps I can turn things around for you? Make you forget your woes?” 

You have been feeling in a terrible mood, he’s right, and you finally give in to his cuddles. The world always does feel better when you’re in his protective embrace, knowing that he would never allow harm to fall upon you. “You are not wrong, my love. But you should know better than to poke at me when I feel like this.” 

Your voice holds no venom, and he knows you possess no real anger towards him. He guides you over to the tall bed in the corner and pulls off your shoes before helping you to rest your head on the soft, feather pillows. You happily sink into them, willing your body to relax muscle by muscle. 

“She is too busy, my wife. Takes such good care of me, of our casita. Will she allow me to take care of her, I wonder?” Pero climbs on top of you with more grace than an ex-sellsword should, caging you between his arms. He rubs his prominent nose against yours, his little habit of asking for permission to kiss you. You eagerly give in, capturing his lips with your own and circling your arms around his waist. 

You both joke now, but in the beginning he was a brute. He was vulgar and unpracticed in experiencing genuine human connection, content to disconnect himself from the world (and the consequences of his actions) to survive another day. It wasn’t until you - and the unapologetic way that you drew him in - that he even wanted to be better. 

You made him so unafraid of feeling that it was all he could seem to do now - feel. He always seems to want to touch and hold and kiss and listen and be. Be in the quiet woods. Be in a warm house. Be with you. 

It made him so affectionate that minus the scarred face and the wild curls, he was hardly recognizable from the man you first met. He still had hard edges and a sharp tongue, and needed to be reminded that he was safe sometimes. It was the least you could do, to make him feel even a fraction of how safe he made you feel. 

But then there are these moments where he is so carefree and full of life that your heart cracks into too many pieces to count. Praises pour from his mouth in between flicks of his tongue and the press of his lips, making you warm and pliable beneath him. When you reach to unbutton his pants, he gently pushes your hands down and tells you to relax, Princesa. 

The little growling sound he makes as he dives under your skirts makes your belly shake with laugher, giggles dissolving into moans and he nips his way up your inner thigh. He licks your core without another moment’s preamble and you grip the bedding in your fists as he runs his tongue along your entrance. 

He pushes your legs wider, desperate for more access. He’s muffled under your skirts, but you hear him say “not enough” before he’s hoisting your legs over his shoulders and pulling you down. Closer to his mouth, where he spends ages pulling you to pieces with his tongue. He’s gentle but not graceful, greedily sucking and licking and slurping without shame. Content to be lost in you until he brings you to your climax twice, faster than you’ve ever come. 

“You taste so good,” he says dreamily as he lays his head on your stomach after he resurfaces, his body still wedged between your legs. You run your curls through his hair, eyes closed and body tingling. 

“Pero, you always say that,” you mutter, quickly tumbling towards sleep. 

He looks up at you in thought, confusion evident on his face. “You do, but it’s different this time. Not bad, just…different. Sweeter.” 

Your eyes shoot open. “Sweeter?” you ask, staring at the wood ceiling above you. 

He nods against you. “So sensitive, also. I could have made you come two more times at least, of this I am sure,” he says with a measure of pride. 

You sit up on your elbows to look at him, years of old wives’ tales running through your head. Something between panic and excitement flashes across your face. “Pero, when did I last bleed? The daffodils were still coming up, weren't they?” 

“I can hardly remember such things,” he grumbles at you. “Why do you ask?” 

You lay your head back down, mind whirling. It’s been months.

“Pero,” you whisper softly, “I think I’m pregnant.”