#and so so filled with love for this little boy

[seungisms]

perv!roommate!felix who absolutely loves living with you, he couldn’t ask for a better roommate. but sometimes you just make it so hard for him and his poor cock, especially when you’re prancing around in pretty little skirts and tiny tops that just seem to get smaller and smaller everyday

perv!roommate!felix who starts to think you almost do it on purpose, just to see him squirm and trip over his words when you catch him staring at your ass - blood rushing to his dick at the mere idea of you wanting his eyes on you

perv!roommate!felix who swears up and down he’s nothing but a gentleman, he just wants you to feel comfortable around him. but he often times finds himself laying alone in his room at night, briefs tangled around his ankles and dick so swollen and needy and begging for something other than his hand, imagining it was your cunt he was dribbling into instead of his hand - wanting nothing more than to bend you over and make you apologise on his cock for being such a goddamn tease. he’ll hardly be able to meet your eyes the next morning

perv!roommate!felix who has to excuse himself every morning when you walk around in your pathetic excuse of a towel, having the nerve to actually bend down right in front him, and he almost loses all self-control the second he steals a glance at your glistening pussy, looking so empty and sad without a cock spreading it open. and he can do nothing but get himself off yet again, too passive to actually call you out on your behaviour and he swears his dick is gonna fall off if he keeps relying on his hand, just praying he gets at least one taste of your sweet cunt in this lifetime

perv!roommate!felix who innocently offers to do your laundry for you every week, feeling his cock twitch in excitement when you happily hand your basket over, barely noticing your underwear drawer getting smaller and smaller as the weeks go by

perv!roommate!felix who feels so much shame when he sees the panties he’s collected peaking out from under his pillow, knowing he should just give them back to you already but they’re all so sticky and used with his cum - he couldn’t possibly stand the thought of you knowing how depraved he actually is

perv!roommate!felix who despite all his best efforts has an obsession with stealing your underwear and using them to get himself off, fisting them around his cock and imagining it was your pretty pussy he was fucking up into instead, or shoving them into his mouth to muffle the slutty groans he lets out while humping his pillow, a mess of drool and spit and cum staining the cute pink fabric

perv!roommate!felix who can’t stand the thought of your ever bringing someone home, so he’ll claim he’s just too uncomfortable with a stranger being in his apartment - but really he just hates the idea of someone else spreading you open on their cock, knowing he could fuck you so much better if you would just give him one chance

perv!roommate!felix who likes picking fights with you when you make a mess in the apartment, wanting nothing more than to fuck away the cute pout sitting on your lips when he scolds you

perv!roommate!felix who thinks you’re so pretty if it weren’t for your mouth, almost begging him to force his cock down your throat and shut you up once and for all

perv!roommate!felix who can’t find it in himself to be mad at you for long, especially not when he stumbles past your room later that night - he didn’t mean to look!! he swears!! but he’s never heard his name whined to prettily, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sloppy way you fuck your fingers into your pussy, itching to be filled with something bigger and heavier

perv!roommate!felix who hates himself for it but he just has to pull out his phone and snap a few photos in this state, all drooling and sweaty and fucked out for him

perv!roommate!felix who hardly ever invites the rest of the boys over, wanting to keep you all to himself - he especially hates watching you flirt with hyunjin all night, dying to fuck the bratty attitude out of you for even daring to think of anyone other than him

perv!roommate!felix who has to settle for fisting your used panties around his dick yet again, so desperately wishing it was your cute cunt he was rubbing against instead of the stupid frilly underwear you love so much

perv!roommate!felix who sometimes sneaks into your room when you’ve left for the day, curling into your sheets and using the lingering scent of your shampoo to coax himself to orgasm - eyes shifting away when you question him about the weird wet patch left behind on your sheets when you come home

perv!roommate!felix who finds himself ‘accidentally’  walking in on you in the shower more times than he can count, tumbling out half-assed apologies but he always seems to take a tad too long to actually leave

perv!roommate!felix who tries his best to act like he wasn’t dying to fuck you, but he could feel himself cave in with each passing day, especially with the fuck me eyes you follow him around with that he was so sure he was making up in his head - until finally he gives in and finds himself slipping into your bed one night when the swell of his dick is just too hard to ignore - pressing his hot cock against your clothed cunt and whimpering out when he feels your wetness build up against the fabric of your underwear, begging him to dip in just once and he just hopes and prays you won’t wake up to find him rutting against you like pervert

perv!roommate!felix who can only think with his dick and can’t help himself from desperately humping against you, the feeling of your warmth flooding his cock and his fingers are slipping down to nudge your panties to the side before he can even stop himself, swollen dick bumping against your pussy and he’s so far gone he wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wanted to

perv!roommate!felix who gets too carried away, he knows he should stop now before you wake up and find your sweet roommate playing with your pussy, but you're whimpering in your sleep and bucking down to meet his shallow thrusts, just an inch he tells himself and he’ll leave you alone

perv!roommate!felix who can’t stop at just an inch, he’s just too greedy - before he knows it he’s stuffed you full and you're all he can think, see or taste. and he doesn't know you've been awake this whole time, legs spread and waiting for him to make his move. and you're parting your lips to mock him for being so pathetic that he'd have to crawl into your bed at night but before you can he’s hammering into you like a man starved, embarrassed sobs of please, i’m so sorry, just need t’ cum falling from his lips as he chases his high - drunk on the feel of your plush walls swallowing him up

perv!roommate!felix who gets one taste of you and can’t seem to get enough

[dismalflo]

intervene

Poly!marauders x reader where james is oblivious to being flirted with ✩ 875 words

cw: reader is a lil jealous, fluff, established relationship

"She's obviously flirting with him, Rem," you murmur petulantly from your place on Remus’s lap. You've nestled yourself in a cozy armchair away from the chaos of the party, the two of you being the quieter pair in comparison to your more energetic boyfriends. Sirius had wandered off a while ago to do god knows what, and James—lovely, oblivious James—is standing across the room, completely unaware that the girl next to him is flirting with him. And, of course, you can’t help but glare at her from your spot.

"I know, dove," Remus replies with a lazy smile, pausing to squeeze your waist. His tone turns teasing as he adds, "I have eyes."

You whip your head around to look at him, incredulous. "You—you know? That's it? You're not going to do anything about it?" Your dramatics earn a soft smile from him, as he gently moves his hands to cup your face.

He plants a few quick kisses over your cheeks in an effort to placate you. And it works. You melt into Remus, happy to be doted on. Despite the noisy room full of people, in this moment with him, everything feels peaceful.

"I'm not doing anything about it because he keeps looking over at us and…" Remus’s mischievous glint catches your eye, that familiar spark he and the others get whenever they’re scheming. "Just imagine what Pads will do when he comes back and sees it."” 

Your jaw drops. "Oh, you're mean when you want to be." Despite the words, you cuddle in closer to Remus, and he beams down at you, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter.

"Mean? Me?" He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your temple as he continues to hold you close. "I’m just enjoying the show."

You glance back over at James and the girl. She’s still leaning in, giggling all but ignoring James’s distracted response. A strange mix of protective instinct and possessiveness bubbles up inside you. Just as you’re about to shuffle out of Remus’s lap and go retrieve James, you spot Sirius making his way over to him

You straighten up, suddenly feeling a little more tense. Remus’s arms tighten around you as he notices the shift in your demeanor.

“Here comes trouble,” he murmurs with a knowing smile, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

You can hardly hear the boys from where you’re sat but you do see the over the top fervent kiss Sirius gives James, the smitten smile on the curly haired boy afterwards, and the hardened features of Sirius’ face as he talks to the girl that was flirting a minute ago. Obviously she gets the hint, she walks off in the opposite direction and the two boys walk towards you and Remus.

Sirius arrives looking smug, bending down to give out kisses like he’s handing out gifts

"You’re welcome, poppet," he teases, and maybe your jealousy wasn’t as well hidden as you thought. Remus barks a laugh at your expense. James, still confused, looks from Sirius to you and back again, trying to process what just happened.

"Wait, what—did you—?" James stammers, blinking in surprise.

Sirius grins, savoring the moment. "Oh, I just, you know… intervened," he says with a dramatic flourish, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“She was flirting with you James.” Remus says bluntly, filling in the gaps of James’ knowledge. 

James looks at Remus with wide eyes, his face flushing a bit as the realization hits him. “What? She was? I—well, I wasn’t paying attention, was I?” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, still trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

You snicker at James’ obliviousness, then glance at Sirius, whose expression is a perfect mix of satisfaction and mischief. “Well done, siri”

James’s expression brightens with recognition, and he grins playfully. "So you sicced the dog on me, you little minx," he teases. "If you were jealous, you could’ve just said so."

You flush embarrassed to be caught and sink further into Remus’ embrace trying to hide from the teasing.

"Oi, I’m not a bloody dog," Sirius interjects, wrapping an arm around James and pulling him closer. "And you seemed to enjoy that kiss, Prongs."

James laughs, leaning into Sirius’s embrace, still a little dazed but clearly amused. "Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly complaining about it," he says with a wink. "And sorry for making you terribly jealous by accident, lovely."

You huff, "It wasn’t terribly—"

"It was, dove," Remus cuts in, his voice teasing as he remembers the dramatic pout you put on earlier.

"My poor baby," James exclaims, leaning over to pepper kisses all over your face, then doing the same to Remus just because he can.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. You can feel the warmth of Remus’ arms around you, his steady presence grounding you as the teasing continues. James leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and you can’t help but melt a little into him.

Sirius chuckles at the sight of you relaxing, finally breaking from your earlier pout. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teases, his smirk turning into something softer when you give him a playful shove.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! <3

[myntrose]

Missing You !

ೃ⁀➷: how the l&ds boys are when they miss you.

a/n: I want these men so bad it hurts. n e ways trying something different from smau 🤍 this is part one, will write the other boys later. Also pls send requests !!

content warning: the boys missing you to the point where it's a bit concerning. maybe ooc. Suggestive in Xavier's part towards the end. Did not proof read srry💔

ft: Zayne, Xavier x reader (separately)

pt. 1 , pt. 2

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ zayne (705 words)

the hospital holds an unnerving chill in the air. everyone can feel it; the staff, nurses, patients and the other doctors. and even though everyone could feel it, no one chose to acknowledge the source of this tension. because no one wants to disturb Dr. Zayne when he's in one of these moods.

It's another hard day for Zayne. The paperwork seemed endless, he's had to deal all sorts of patients, and he hasn't seen you in a week. You were out in a mission, nothing out of the normal for a hunter. But Zayne couldn't help but worry. He loves you, knows you're more than capable of handling yourself, but worrying about you comes as easy as breathing to him. It's second nature, an everyday thought.

Just as he starts to steady himself, the ink of his pen explodes on the report he was writing. He about ready to lose it, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. Zayne isn't usually this disoriented, and it's making him go mad.

Moving from his desk, Zayne paces around his office, opening your last message. it stresses him out that it was 2 days ago.

ms.hunter: ugh this mission is so dumb. smt happened and now it looks like ill be gone longer. im sorry babe :(((

He grips his phone a little harder. Paces the room with heavier steps. Breaths another sigh.

What is wrong with me?

A knock at his door disrupts his pacing.

"What?"

Zayne doesn't realize he said that with a bit too much bite, a bit too coldly. The door opens to reveal his new secretary, looking like a scared little lamb entering the lions den.

He looks at his secretaries face, realizing his harsh tone. Zayne murmurs a quick apology, asking his secretary if there was something needed.

"There's someone here to meet you, Dr. Zayne. Said they had an appointment?" The secretary trails their sentence like a question, knowing that Zayne shouldn't have any appointments today. Poor thing was shivering from the doctor's cold demeanor.

The veins on Zayne's head are almost visible now. On top of this day, an unscheduled appointment? Had it not been for his doctors oath to not harm, he would've denied this appointment.

Another sigh leaves him, as he tells his secretary to let the mystery appointment inside his office. Zayne makes his way back to his desk, head in hands trying to compose himself.

"You really shouldn't be sighing so heavily, Dr. Zayne. Heard it's bad for you"

Zayne's head whipped so fast towards the doorway, that you almost left bad for laughing at the action.

He blinks once, then another, before standing up and meeting you halfway across the room.

" 'm sorry for not texting you sooner, but I've been working twice as hard to get done with my mission-"

You don't get to finish your sentence before Zayne crashes his lips into yours. This kiss was desperate, filled with longing and want. It's almost startling, usually Zayne is more composed than his.

"would be more composed had you told me you'd be arriving back today" Zayne responds, perfectly reading your thoughts. Before you could say anything, he kisses you again. This time, he's softer, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other cradling your face.

You're the one to pull apart first, desperately needing air. Looks like your boyfriend missed you more than you realized. Oh, this was gonna be so fun.

Zayne scoffs, but he's still holding you close. "I do not scowl. It's just been a stressful week at the hospital."

You laugh at that. God, he missed your laugh. He missed you. He walks the both of you to his desk, where he sits you on his lap as he takes a seat.

"Did you miss me that much? It's only been a week."

"A week too long, my love"

While you and Zayne catch up, the rest of the hospital is glad that the chill in the air has died down. Looks like the staff knows who to call when their doctor is in that mood.

𓆩✧𓆪 xavier (570 words)

there's only a few things that causes Xavier to wake up. Either you shaking him awake, peppering his face with kisses, or when you steal the blanket from him.

Actually, it's mostly you that causes him to wake up. And right now, the reason why sleep escapes him is because it seems like you escaped the bed at some point.

Xavier feels around your side of the bed, only to be met with emptiness. Confused, he wakes up, and looks around to see the room still in pitch darkness.

2:34 a.m. It's still horribly early, so you wouldn't have woken up for work. Plus, Xavier knows your schedule better than he knows his. He knows that you don't have any kind of missions to attend to right now.

So, where were you? A sudden rush of thoughts occur at once, and Xavier can't help but assume the worst scenarios. He jumps out of bed and checks around the apartment.

Bathroom? No. Living room? Empty. Kitchen? Quite. He's going a bit crazy, because where did you go?

He just about to rush outside when he hears the sound of keys opening the front door. Turning to the sound, he watches as the door opens to reveal you.

You, holding a bag from the nearby 24/7 convenience store. You walk in, not realizing that Xavier was watching as you enter the room.

You're holding your phone in your other hand, staring at it. It wasn't until you looked up that you noticed you were being watching by your boyfriend.

Your words don't make it to his ears. Rather, he answers you with a question of his own.

"Where were you?" His voice is deep, laced with a serious tone that doesn't quite suit him. Oh no, was he mad?

"I went out to buy ice cream. I couldn't sleep and wanted something sweet. I texted you where I was!" Defending yourself, showing Xavier the bag with a few ice cream bars.

Oh right, he never checked his phone. Xavier pulls his phone out of his pockets, and opens his notifications to see that you in fact did text him where you were.

"Oh."

You move to the kitchen, putting the ice cream away. "Yeah, oh is right. What, d'ya think I just left without saying a work ?" You only meant that jokingly, of course. Turning around, Xavier is right behind you, caging you between himself and the fridge.

It wasn't until you looked at his eyes when you realized that, oh, he was worried. The realization sets in, and you understand what just happened. Xavier had woken up, and genuinely thought you were done.

Your eyes soften as you look at him, moving your hands to his face "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that." Xavier melts into your touch, and you both stay like this for a while.

You speak up first. "Why don't we go back to sleep?"

Xavier opens his eyes, looking down at you. "Actually, I'm not sleepy right now. I think I'm hungry."

"Do you want some of the ice cream I bought? I got your favorite flavor- Xav- Xavier why are we going to the bedroom?"

"I said I was hungry."

"Oh...?!"

Later that morning, you had to call into work "sick" for both you and Xavier.

[mageofmadness]

PUPPY CALEB GOING INTO RUT

(2.1k) ૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ nsfw [18+] includes: puppy!caleb, fem!reader, rut, knotting, slight a/b/o themes (kind of, not really), dirty talk, pet names, creampie and breeding kink, messy, wet, 'n sick as always. questionable puppy hybrid dynamics but it’s porn so the how doesn’t really matter, right?

caleb loves nothing more than being your mutt. your puppy boy.

he belongs to you, and by your side is where he’s meant to stay. if you’re somewhere, best believe he’s standing close behind with an arm around your waist or a hand on the back of your neck. he’s territorial, something others have picked up on and caleb felt bad about it until you admitted how much it turns you on. how much you love it. crave it, too. how much you don’t care about what everyone else thinks, and how jealous you get over others looking at and admiring what is yours.

the chain around his neck might as well be a collar with his owner's information on it, and he never misses an opportunity to show you who he belongs to.

sure, you tease him sometimes for his inclinations. caleb can’t help it though—that he can smell when you’re sweetest and your body needs him the most. when he can sense how wet you're going to be before his fingers ever find your needy, little clit. every month, towards the end of the last week, he finds himself waking up and calling off work. caleb lets them know he won't be in for a few days, and he shoots off a text to your work as well, letting them know the same thing on your behalf.

[7:21 am] i’m so sorry, i’m feeling under the weather and am not going to be able to come into the office today. i’ve got a doctor's appointment later and will send you an update with what they say.

caleb is sensitive when going into rut. he needs you here, by his side, and you cannot stray.

he always has a bit of lingering guilt, looking at you curled up in bed. sweet and innocent, asleep in one of his old t-shirts and a raggedy pair of underwear from ages ago. soft skin that stretches for miles and fading bruises from the past week on your thighs and hips. you look so…precious. small. docile and perfect for him. it makes spit collect in his mouth, even more so than usual.

sometimes, he can’t help but fall back asleep, waiting for you to get up. if he’s lucky, caleb rouses later to you petting his ears. your fingers combing through his hair, brushing over the scruff of his neck, and all of it makes him shiver. caleb wakes from sleep hot and hurting, near drooling and whimpering from the ache trapped in his sweatpants and the way your fingers dance where he’s most sensitive.

you always ask if he wants to play, always ask what he needs, and the way caleb buries his head in the crook of your neck, rutting his aching cock against your hip, tells you enough. you sigh, turning around in bed and slipping your hand into his boxers.

caleb can’t help but bite.

he tries to be gentle, he really does, but when your warm fingers are wrapped around his cock and you’re letting him sloppily jerk his hips, he can't help but groan. he can't help but growl, low in his throat, as sticky pre-come slides over your knuckles.

caleb can’t help that he likes when his owner scolds him. says, in that tone of voice you get, “no biting, don’t make me get the leash.”

“bad dog.”

he whines. caleb hates the leash and the way it keeps you from him. the way he comes so hard when it’s wrapped around his throat and you tug just right as he spills inside of you. it’s pathetic, but how else is he meant to show you that he’s yours? what better way than to let you use the leash to bury his cock that much further into your pussy, kissing your cervix and using him however you see fit.

“m’a good dog,” he pants, begging for you to understand. “m’sorry baby, i–i can’t help it. i promise, ngh. wanna be your good boy, please.”

“i need to fill you up…fuck you sloppy. oh fuck.”

caleb can hardly breathe when you turn around, letting the blankets fall so he can see the way you present for him. knees in the mattress, back arched and ass up. he swallows, yanking your underwear down and tossing it away.

“show puppy where you want it, baby. m’too dumb to remember. need to know where you want it, sweetheart. show me your little hole.”

he watches in awe as you move to spread yourself. giving him a perfect view of your tight holes. caleb moans, excitement making him shake from how you’re going to look after he’s done with you. swollen and over-sensitive. red and slick from the abuse of his cock stretching you open and apart for hours. he runs a hand over the small of your back, squeezing your waist before he can’t help himself any longer and slips a single finger into your pussy.

feeling how wet you are, how needy you are for him. how one finger doesn’t seem to be enough. caleb leans closer, letting his breath ghost over your fluttering hole as he tugs it open. he fits another finger inside, spreads them wide and feels you shake. inspecting your perfect pussy, still just as perfect, to make sure it’s ready for him.

“you're so good to me, thank you, honey. so good for puppy. ‘m so, so lucky,” his words trail off as he plays with your sticky mess. seeing how far he can stretch you open before you whine and start to writhe. “always make puppy feel so good, can i make you feel good, sweetheart? please?”

“where do you want it?” he asks, brushing his thumb over your other hole. pawing at you as he bites his lip, knowing the first day of his rut is too rough. he can’t. caleb often loses himself, and he doesn’t want to hurt you with how wide he’d like to stuff every hole you have. how bad he wants to watch your tight ass take his cock. he knows it would feel like heaven.

still, he asks, “which hole, baby? c’mon, tell me where you need it.”

“m’pussy,” you whimper, pressing back into his prodding fingers.

“here? like this?” caleb asks, rutting his sticky pre-come mess against the back of your thighs, groaning when the tip of his cock catches on your cunt and you jump. “how does my girl want it?” he asks, leaning over and crowding you, whispering into your ear. “tell me, baby. you know i’ll give you whatever you want. anything you need, honey, it’s yours.”

caleb’s favorite thing is the lip you give him right before you slip under. right before you give in to the thick weight of his cock that’s too deep, when you’re meeting his thrusts, greedy about every inch of him and how it’s yours. how it’s only meant to be buried deep inside of you, driving you wild and dirty.

“h-harder,” you demand. “don’t tell me you dont know how to use that puppy cock.”

it always turns to begging in the end, though.

depending on how well he fucked you the night before and how sensitive you are from that. how well you slept or how much you feel like being a brat today. caleb lives for the moment he feels your hips settle, when there’s no resistance as he slams his cock into you over and over and you take it like such a good girl. the best girl. the sticky sound of your pussy wanting this so much it’s dripping onto the sheets. it drives you crazy but that’s when he loses himself, too.

when you’re babbling and whimpering. praising him, “m–my good boy. such a good boy, so–so good for me. p–please, hngh. please, can i come? i cant…i–i cant—”

he lives for your praise. he’d die by it.

“you take it so well, fuck. so good. wish…wish you’d let me let me knot you,” caleb pants. letting the fantasy take hold. he’s dreamed of it, but as much as you beg for it, he doesn’t want to hurt you. but right now, “oh, fuck. please, can i? know you can take it. it would feel so good sweetheart, please let me. please, please…i need it.”

you give in, immediately clawing at the sheets when you feel him begin to swell. caleb starts to feel the resistance and can’t help but curse, watching the filthy sight before him. your cunt struggling to take what he has for you, the way it stretches and you whimper but cannot help but fuck back, trying to swallow his knot whole.

it’s a tight fit and it looks like it hurts, but the way you beg for more makes him see stars and the look he sees on your face when you glance back, blindly throwing a hand behind you to search for him, teary-eyed and gone but no less determined to take it, is beautiful. you’re beautiful, from the blush on your cheeks, the sweat sticking to your skin, all the way to the thighs that shake from the stretch.

when his knot pops inside, when caleb feels it settle inside of your warm walls, twitching and coming around him, caleb actually loses his mind. 

“fuckin’ made for this, look at that. you took it so easy, honey. should have known it would fit perfect, you’re my princess after all, huh?”

“you want more? i think you do. sounds like you do, baby. wish you could see what ‘m seeing right now. don’t know if this pussy will ever be tight again.”

caleb's voice is rough as he whispers in your ear, "that's okay, though. good thing i like you like this, hm? i love it when you're a messy girl and oh, don't cry baby. 'm right here, yeah? right here, you feel me?"

you’re gone, and caleb does what he does best—takes care of you. he presses his chest to your sweaty back, protects you from the world as he fucks into you hard and fast. like an animal. unable to move too much from being locked by the knot, it bullies against your swollen cervix with every thrust.

“we just need to fill you up, see?” he pants, feeling the way your walls milk him as he swallows his groans. as he bites down the need to use teeth. caleb kisses away tears as they fall down your cheeks. “can you be good and take it all for puppy? yes? oh, it feels good? fuck, hah, baby. you have no idea. i…i—“

“not a drop—i don’t want a single drop to spill from this pussy, you hear me?”

“I know, i know. you’re all stretched open and sloppy, but you can do that for me, can’t you? it’s all for you, baby. please, hngh, oh fuck. take it. there you go baby, yeah. squeeze and tighten up. no messes.”

when he finally spills inside of you, when he feels his come settle deep in your cunt, right where it needs to be, caleb is out of breath and burning hot. 

“s–so tight,” he hisses. “being so good for me, sweetheart. shh, im almost done, just a little longer. i’ve got a little bit more for you, baby. you’ve gotta take it...need you to take it f’me.”

“no, no,” he tsks when you start to squirm. “no moving or it won’t stick, princess.”

“good princesses let their puppies fill them up, right? they let them breed them full. you’re so good to me, baby. so good letting me take care of this pussy when i need her.”

caleb loves letting his cock hold you down, buried to the hilt as you sigh and clench from the overuse. moaning about how it feels so good. so warm and thank you and when you panic the moment he goes to pull out, whining like a bitch in heat for the cock that just ruined you, he can’t help but laugh softly.

caleb licks and bites, taking the time to sneakily nip at your skin when he can finally pull all the way out. his cock gives a pathetic twitch at the sight of your hole. sticky and drooling, too. fluttering, trying to close around nothing, and certainly not as tight as it had been that morning. gaping slightly.

caleb traces a gentle finger around the rim as he places a kiss on your lower back, feeling you jolt. he watches as his come slowly begins to dribble out over his fingers, and sighs.

“i told you not a drop, baby. what’s all this drooling out of your pussy?”

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 226.171.198 245.214.227

[micro-toad]

Sweet Dreams Kirby Quilt - Desert Bus 2023

I wanted to mix it up from my usual FPP (foundational paper piecing) shenanigans, so I went off into the land of pixel quilting. But, I still had to have a little madness in it, so instead of small and detailed I went big and pink!!

This quilt is 100 x 105 inches, so slightly over a king sizeish and was made from about 10 200 1 inch squares. It would've been a nice even 10 000, but I accidently miscounted my columns in google sheets and added 2 extra ones to the far right side. Oops. But yeah, I filled cells in google sheets to make the design, often while waiting for simulations at work (don't tell my bosses) and then I matched the colours to my trusty kona colour card and we ended up here! It has something like 13 different shades of pink, which is great, because I love pink and I love Kirby.

I had to get this bad boy long armed too, as there was no way I was going to be able to get this through my domestic at home. It was the right choice the pale pink thread and quilting motifs are just so perfect.

Parting with this quilt was SO hard, I really loved it, but I hope this quilt is well loved in their new home too.

[astars-things]

Can I request for Luke please - “i feel safe in your arms” maybe he’s getting hate and it gets to him so he confides in you

It was nearly midnight when I heard the front door click shut. The sound was soft, careful, like whoever was coming in didn’t want to wake me, but I was already awake. I always was when Luke came home late, my mind too busy wondering if he was okay to actually sleep.

I sat up in bed, the soft glow of my bedside lamp filling the room as the door to our bedroom creaked open. Luke stood there, his shoulders slumped, his hoodie pulled up over his messy curls. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying in the car before finally making his way inside.

“Hey,” I said softly, opening my arms without even thinking. That’s all it took. Luke crossed the room in just a few steps, crawling into bed beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he buried his face into my neck.

He didn’t say anything at first, and I didn’t push. I just ran my fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp the way I knew calmed him down. His breathing was shaky, his grip on me tight, like if he held on hard enough, the world outside might disappear for a little while.

Finally, after a few minutes, he whispered, “I feel safe in your arms.”

His voice cracked, and my heart shattered on the spot. I’d seen Luke upset before, after a tough game, or when he missed his family, but this was different. This was deeper, heavier.

I pulled back just enough to look at him, cradling his face between my hands. “Talk to me, baby,” I said softly. “What’s going on?”

His eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenching for a moment before he finally let the words spill out. “It’s just, the hate, Y/N. It’s everywhere. Online, at games, even at the rink sometimes. I try to ignore it, I swear I do, but it’s like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.” His voice wavered, and he shook his head, frustration and pain mingling in his expression. “I’m just so tired.”

I wiped away a tear that slipped down his cheek, my thumb brushing softly over his skin. “Luke,” I murmured, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He nodded, his forehead leaning against mine.

“You are enough,” I said firmly. “You are so much more than the things people say about you. I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts, but none of those people know the real you. The boy who always kisses me goodnight, who gets way too excited about breakfast, who sings off-key in the shower, the boy who’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever known.”

His lips trembled into a small smile, and I kissed him softly, slow and sweet, hoping it would remind him just how loved he was.

“You make me feel safe too,” I whispered. “Because no matter what anyone else says, you’re my Luke, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Luke hugged me tighter, tears still glistening in his eyes, but his breathing was steadier now.

“I love you,” he whispered into my hair.

“I love you more,” I promised

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters with a S/O who is shy and has social anxiety

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

This headcanons is for all my friends who suffer from social anxiety like me!

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter understands your struggles in a way few others can. He was the kid who sat alone at lunch, the one who stammered through conversations, the boy who felt too much and spoke too little. So when you shrink into yourself at a crowded event or hesitate before speaking, he doesn’t push. He waits.

- He is patient with you, always. If your hands shake when ordering at a café, his fingers brush against yours—not grabbing, not forcing, just reminding you he’s there. If you struggle to meet a stranger’s eyes, he fills the silence effortlessly, making bad jokes until you breathe out a quiet laugh. He knows how much effort it takes, and he never belittles it.

- When you’re overwhelmed, he finds ways to help without making a big deal out of it. “Hey, let’s get out of here,” he’ll say casually, like he wasn’t watching you from the corner of his eye, counting the seconds between your anxious glances. He makes excuses to leave early, to find a rooftop where it’s just the two of you, the city stretching wide beneath your feet.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he believes in you, too. He knows you’re stronger than you think. “You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you after a stressful interaction, “but you did great. And I’m proud of you.”

- One day, when you stand your ground, when you speak up even though your voice shakes—Peter looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Like you’re the bravest person he’s ever met. And to him? You are.

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- Tony is used to fast talkers and smooth charmers. He’s not used to you. The quiet, hesitant way you speak, the way your gaze flickers away when too many eyes are on you. At first, he doesn’t know what to do with it. But then, he realizes—he doesn’t need to do anything. He just needs to be there.

- Social situations? He handles them for you. If someone puts you on the spot, Tony is already redirecting the conversation before you can panic. If a gala feels too loud, too bright, too suffocating, he whisks you away with a perfectly crafted excuse. No one ever questions him—he’s Tony Stark, after all.

- But he also refuses to let you believe your anxiety makes you less. When you apologize for stumbling over your words, he raises a brow. “What, you think that matters to me? Have you met me? I stumble over my words all the time. It’s called being devastatingly charming.”

- He builds little comforts into your daily life without making a fuss. Noise-canceling headphones that match your style. A secret signal for when you need an escape. He makes sure you know—“I got you, sweetheart. Always.”

- One night, when you tell him you feel like a burden, he physically stops in his tracks. Turns to you, eyes serious in a way they rarely are. “You think being loved is a burden?” And when you don’t answer, when you shrink under his gaze, he exhales. Steps closer. “I don’t throw around the ‘L’ word lightly. But I love you. You get that, right?”

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- Steve is a protector by nature, but he learns quickly that you don’t need protecting—you just need understanding. So he listens. He doesn’t try to fix you, doesn’t tell you to “just be more confident.” Instead, he sits with you in the quiet moments, in the spaces where words aren’t needed.

- When your anxiety flares up, his presence is a steady, grounding thing. His hand finds the small of your back in crowded rooms, a silent reminder that he’s there. If your breathing gets uneven, he murmurs, “With me, sweetheart. Deep breaths. In… out.” And when the world is too much, he shields you—not with his vibranium, but with his warmth.

- He notices the things you don’t say. The way your shoulders tense before you speak, the way you fidget when too many eyes are on you. He never rushes you, never forces you to talk before you’re ready. But when you do—when you finally find the courage to tell him what’s on your mind—he listens like it’s the most important thing in the world.

- He makes you feel safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. You never have to pretend with him. When you’re exhausted from socializing, he doesn’t take it personally. Instead, he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Want to stay in tonight? Just us?”

- And one day, when someone comments on how quiet you are, how shy—you shrink back, but Steve? Steve straightens. Levels them with that unshakable, unwavering gaze. “Not everyone needs to be loud to be strong.” And the way he says it—the quiet pride in his voice—it makes you believe it, too.

Thor (God of Thunder)

- Thor does not understand at first. He is a god, a warrior, a king—he has never hesitated to speak his mind, never faltered in the presence of others. So when he notices your reluctance, your anxious glances, he frowns.

- But he learns. He watches the way you grip the hem of your sleeve when you’re overwhelmed, the way your voice gets softer when too many people are listening. He learns, and he adapts. Because that’s what love is.

- If you are uncomfortable in a gathering, he makes it known. “My beloved tires of this company,” he declares in the middle of a conversation, and before you can protest, he is leading you away, unbothered by the stares. To Thor, your comfort is more important than social niceties.

- He does not see your anxiety as a weakness. When you apologize for needing space, he shakes his head. “There is no shame in feeling.” And then, softer, “I would battle a thousand foes, but I cannot battle your thoughts. So tell me, my love—how can I ease them?”

- And when you finally speak—when you let yourself be vulnerable, let yourself be seen—Thor looks at you like you are more powerful than any storm he has ever summoned.

Loki (God of Mischief)

- Loki is used to masks. Used to hiding, used to maneuvering through conversations like they are battles to be won. But you? You don’t wear masks. You don’t need to. You are soft-spoken, hesitant, but there is a sincerity in you that unnerves him.

- He sees the way people overlook you, the way they dismiss quietness as weakness. It infuriates him. But more than that—it intrigues him. Because he sees what they do not. He sees the way your mind works, the depths beneath the surface.

- When you struggle with your words, he fills the silence with his own. When you are anxious, he redirects the attention elsewhere. He will never let the world swallow you whole.

- But when you grow comfortable, when you begin to speak more freely with him—Loki listens. No tricks, no arrogance. Just listens. And if anyone dares to mock your hesitance, they will learn why he is called the God of Mischief.

- One day, you tell him you feel small. Insignificant. He tilts your chin up, his green eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You are not small,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You are the only thing in this realm that makes me feel real.”

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint notices things. He notices the way your hands tremble when too many people are watching, the way your eyes flick toward the door in crowded rooms. He notices the way your breath catches before you speak, the way you fidget when someone puts you on the spot. He notices because he’s been there too—the kid no one thought twice about, the one who had to learn to take up space in a world that wanted to ignore him.

- He helps in his own way. Casual, unspoken, never forcing. When he sees your shoulders tense in a loud bar, he makes a joke so ridiculous, so absurd, that you forget why you were panicking in the first place. If you start to shut down at a gathering, he suddenly remembers an “important thing” he has to show you outside—just the two of you, away from the noise.

- He doesn’t push you to talk when you don’t want to, but when you do? He listens like every single word matters. Because to him, it does. He knows what it’s like to feel unheard, and he refuses to let you believe your voice is anything less than important.

- He’s protective, but not in an overbearing way. If someone tries to rush you into speaking, he’s already cutting in, redirecting the attention, making himself the distraction. If someone mocks your quietness, his usual easy grin goes sharp. He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his words are just as sharp as his arrows.

- But what really gets him? The way you trust him. The way you let him see the parts of you the world doesn’t always understand. One night, after a long day, you let yourself lean into him, burying your face against his shoulder. And Clint? He just holds you closer, arms firm around you, like he’s never letting go.

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha understands. She understands in a way no one else does. She was trained to be invisible, to fade into the background when necessary. She knows what it’s like to measure every word before speaking, to feel like too many eyes are on you.

- With her, there’s no pressure. No expectation. She never pushes you to be something you’re not. If you don’t want to talk, she doesn’t fill the silence with meaningless chatter. She lets the quiet exist, natural and unforced, because she knows sometimes words aren’t necessary.

- She is your shield in public. If she sees you struggling in a conversation, she subtly shifts the focus onto herself. If someone tries to pressure you, she gives them a look—a cold, unreadable thing that makes them shrink back immediately. No one messes with you when Natasha is around.

- But in private, she’s different. Softer. When you tell her your fears—your worries about being a burden, about not being enough—she listens, then gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your forehead. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

- And one day, when you stand up for yourself—when you find your voice even though your hands shake—she watches you with something like pride. Because she knows exactly how strong you are.

Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier)

- Bucky knows what it’s like to feel out of place. To feel like the world moves too fast, too loud, too much. So when you get overwhelmed, when the anxiety becomes too sharp, he doesn’t tell you to “calm down.” He just takes your hand. Grounds you. Stays with you.

- He’s not much for words, but he doesn’t need them. He knows when you need space and when you need him close. If you’re panicking in public, he subtly moves in front of you, blocking the world from view. If you need an out, he makes an excuse without hesitation.

- He’s fiercely protective, but he never treats you like you’re fragile. He knows you’re strong, even if you don’t always believe it. “You don’t have to be loud to matter,” he tells you one night, his voice quiet but sure. “I see you. That’s enough.”

- When you have bad days, the kind where speaking feels impossible, he never makes you feel guilty. Instead, he just sits with you, silent but present. Sometimes, he’ll read aloud, his voice low and steady, filling the empty spaces with something comforting.

- And when you finally whisper, “Thank you,” he just shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me, doll.” And the way he says it—like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love you—makes your heart ache.

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matt hears everything—the shift in your breath when you’re nervous, the way your heartbeat speeds up in crowds. He hears the words you don’t say, the ones caught behind your teeth, and he never pushes them out. He lets you speak at your own pace, in your own way.

- He’s a lawyer, a talker, a charmer—but with you? He is patient. Gentle. He knows the weight of words, the way they can soothe or break, and he chooses them carefully when speaking to you.

- If a social event becomes too much, he senses it before you even say a word. “Wanna get out of here?” he murmurs, already reaching for your hand, already leading you somewhere quieter, somewhere safer.

- He never lets anyone make you feel small. If someone talks over you, dismisses your words—his easy charm vanishes. His voice turns sharp, his lawyer’s precision cutting through their ignorance like a blade.

- But when it’s just the two of you—when the city quiets, when the weight of the world is gone—he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

- Frank is not a man of many words, but he doesn’t need them. He sees you—the way your hands curl into fists when you’re anxious, the way you shrink back when too many eyes are on you. And without a word, he adjusts. He puts himself between you and the world, silent and steady, your shield against everything too loud, too much.

- He never tells you to “just relax” or “get over it.” He knows what it’s like to have demons clawing at your throat, to feel like your own mind is working against you. So instead, he stays close. A hand at your back. A steadying presence beside you. A quiet, unspoken promise—I’ve got you.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Frank’s entire demeanor changes. His voice drops, his posture shifts. “You got a problem?” And suddenly, the room is very, very quiet.

- But when it’s just you and him—when the world is far away and you don’t have to be anything but yourself—he’s softer. He pulls you into his arms, presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You don’t gotta be anything but you.”

- And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you finally believe him.

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc is a man of chaos, of violence, of war. But with you, he learns the art of stillness. He sees the way you hesitate before speaking, the way your hands tremble when too many eyes are on you, and he knows that kind of fear. He’s lived with it—not the fear of people, but the fear of never truly belonging.

- When crowds press in too close, when anxiety wraps around you like barbed wire, he moves instinctively—positioning himself at your side, shielding you from the world. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t pry—he simply becomes a wall between you and whatever is making your breath hitch.

- He’s rough around the edges, all sharp angles and battle scars, but when it comes to you? His hands are gentle, his voice low and steady. If you can’t meet his gaze, he tilts his head just slightly, lowering himself to where you are—never forcing, always waiting.

- If someone dares to mock your quietness, Marc is not a man of restraint. He looms over them, voice eerily calm but laced with danger. “Say that again.” He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his presence alone is enough to send them running.

- But when you’re alone, when the night is still and the world is quiet, he holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered. “I get it,” he murmurs into your hair. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” And you know, without a doubt, that he means it.

Johnny Storm (Human Torch)

- Johnny is fire, and you are the quiet ember he never knew he needed. He is loud, bold, reckless—the center of every room he walks into. And yet, when he’s with you, he finds himself softening, lowering his volume, learning to exist in the quiet without burning it away.

- He doesn’t always understand your anxiety, but he tries. He notices the way your fingers twitch before speaking, the way you flinch at unexpected attention, and he makes it his personal mission to be your buffer.

- If you ever feel overwhelmed at an event, he pulls you aside with the easiest excuse in the world—“Sorry, gotta steal my girl for a sec.” And just like that, you’re swept away, safe in the warmth of his presence, away from prying eyes.

- When someone comments on how “shy” you are, he grins wide, throws an arm around your shoulders, and says, “Yeah? Well, she’s also the smartest, kindest, most beautiful person in the room, so I’d shut up if I were you.” And somehow, you know he means every single word.

- At the end of the day, when the world feels too big and your voice feels too small, Johnny pulls you into his arms, presses his forehead to yours, and whispers, “You don’t have to be loud to be heard. I hear you.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Reed Richards (Mister Fantastic)

- Reed’s mind moves faster than most, always ten steps ahead, lost in equations and theories. But with you? He slows down. He listens, truly listens, because he knows how hard it is for you to speak sometimes—and if there’s one thing he values, it’s the power of a voice that chooses its words carefully.

- He’s observant, even if he doesn’t always show it. He notices the subtle shifts in your posture, the way your breathing changes when anxiety creeps in. And without a word, he adjusts—offering his hand, shifting attention away from you, giving you space when you need it.

- When someone talks over you, dismisses your words, Reed is not an aggressive man—but he is precise. He calmly redirects the conversation, effortlessly reinforcing your point until the offender realizes their mistake. It’s a quiet kind of defense, but it leaves no room for doubt: your words matter.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he encourages you in the gentlest ways. When you whisper your thoughts to him, he repeats them out loud, ensuring your ideas are heard. He never takes credit for your brilliance—he amplifies it.

- And when you’re alone, when the weight of the world is too much, he pulls you close, resting his chin atop your head. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” he murmurs. “You are enough, exactly as you are.”

Felicia Hardy (Black Cat)

- Felicia is a storm wrapped in silk—a whirlwind of charm, confidence, and mischief. And yet, with you, she is something softer, something gentler, something she never thought she could be.

- She adores the way you shy away from attention, how you linger in the background—not because she wants you to hide, but because she loves the way your beauty is something only those who look closely can see.

- When you get anxious in public, she drapes herself over you like a shield, whispering teasing remarks into your ear until you laugh and forget why you were nervous in the first place. She makes the world feel smaller, safer—like it’s just the two of you, even in a crowded room.

- If someone insults your quietness, her entire demeanor shifts. The playful smirk sharpens, her eyes go cold, and she takes a single step forward. “Wanna say that again, sweetheart?” No one ever does.

- But when it’s just the two of you, when the night is quiet and you’re curled up in her arms, she presses a kiss to your forehead and murmurs, “You don’t need to change for anyone, least of all me. I love you exactly as you are.”

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- Stephen is a man who has faced horrors beyond comprehension, who has seen the vastness of the cosmos and returned unchanged. And yet, you—soft-spoken, hesitant, shy—unravel him in ways he never anticipated.

- He is a man of logic, of knowledge, and yet he finds himself studying you as though you are the most intricate spell he has ever encountered. He learns your tells, your fears, the quiet ways you ask for help.

- When your anxiety becomes too much, he doesn’t try to “fix” it—he simply exists beside you, grounding you with his presence. If words fail you, he conjures illusions of calming landscapes, filling the space with something serene, something safe.

- If someone belittles you, his voice turns cold, clipped. “Do you always judge people based on volume, or is it just when you lack the intellect to comprehend quiet strength?” His words cut deeper than any blade, and the offender is left stammering, humiliated.

- But when you’re alone, when the world has faded away and it’s just the two of you, he takes your hands in his, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and whispers, “You don’t need grand gestures to be extraordinary. You already are.” And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

Namor (The Sub-Mariner)

- Namor is a king, a warrior, a force of nature that bends to no one. He is fire and water, fury and grace, and yet when he looks at you—quiet, hesitant, soft in ways he has never been—his arrogance falters. He has ruled the depths for centuries, but he would kneel for you.

- He does not understand your reluctance to speak, the way your hands shake in crowded halls, but he does not mock you for it. Instead, he watches, learns, and makes sure his court knows that your words carry the weight of a queen’s decree.

- When you feel small, when your voice wavers, Namor’s is strong enough for the both of you. If anyone dares to belittle your quietness, his voice booms across the room, regal and unyielding. “You would do well to remember that power is not measured in volume, but in presence.”

- He encourages you to stand tall, not because he wishes to change you, but because he knows the depths of your strength, even when you don’t. He will remind you as many times as necessary—until you believe it, until the ocean itself whispers your name with reverence.

- And in the moments when the world is too much, when the pressure of existence weighs heavy on your chest, he takes you to the water. He carries you effortlessly through the waves, where silence is sacred and your anxiety cannot reach. Here, with him, you are weightless.

Johnny Blaze (Ghost Rider)

- Johnny Blaze has stared into the abyss and walked away burning. He has made deals with devils, has felt Hell’s fire in his veins, but nothing terrifies him more than the thought of you feeling like you are alone.

- He knows what it’s like to be trapped in your own mind, to battle demons no one else can see. So when he sees your hands tremble, your voice falter, he doesn’t push—he just stays. A quiet, unwavering presence, reminding you that you don’t have to fight alone.

- When your anxiety is a storm raging inside you, he lets you borrow his fire. Not in words, not in force, but in touch—a steady hand at the small of your back, a whispered joke to pull you from the darkness. He doesn’t try to fix you. He just makes sure you know you’re not broken.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Johnny doesn’t bother with threats. He just looks at them, eyes burning gold, voice like gravel and embers. “Wanna run that by me again?” One glance at the fire flickering beneath his skin, and they never do.

- But when the night is still, when his demons are quiet and yours are loud, he holds you close, presses a kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “You don’t need to be louder to matter, sweetheart. You’re already everything.”

Eddie Brock / Venom

- Eddie has never been good with words, and Venom has never needed them. But when it comes to you—shy, hesitant, unsure of your place in the world—they both learn a new kind of patience.

- Venom is fascinated by you. “WHY IS SHE SO QUIET?” the symbiote demands. “SHE IS STRONG. THEY SHOULD FEAR HER.” And Eddie just sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, buddy, but not everyone wants to be feared.”

- When your anxiety flares, Eddie keeps you close, shielding you from the world with the ease of a man who has spent a lifetime on the outskirts. And if that isn’t enough? Venom coils around you, a silent, watchful protector, daring anyone to make you uncomfortable.

- If someone ever makes fun of your quiet nature, Eddie lets out a slow, measured breath—then smirks. “You really wanna keep talking?” And before they can respond, Venom grins wide, teeth gleaming. “WE COULD EAT THEM,” the symbiote suggests, only half-joking. (Probably.)

- But in the quiet moments, when it’s just the three of you, Eddie rests his forehead against yours and sighs. “You don’t have to change for anyone, least of all me.” And Venom, surprisingly gentle, echoes, “WE LIKE YOU AS YOU ARE.”

T’Challa (Black Panther)

- T’Challa has ruled nations, fought wars, stood against gods. But when you look up at him, eyes hesitant, voice barely above a whisper, he feels like a man first and a king second.

- He is deliberate with his affection, precise in his understanding. He does not rush you. He does not try to fix what is not broken. Instead, he offers his hand—steady, unwavering, waiting for you to take it when you’re ready.

- When your anxiety makes you withdraw, he does not let the world swallow you. Instead, he ensures that you are given the space to exist on your terms. You are not just "his" in the public eye—you are your own, and he will defend your right to be exactly as you are.

- Should anyone dare mock your shyness, his response is quiet but lethal. “Do not mistake her silence for weakness,” he says, voice like the edge of a blade. “There is power in stillness. And wisdom in restraint.” And just like that, the room remembers why he is king.

- But when the throne room is empty, when the world is quiet, he cups your face with hands that have known both war and tenderness. “You do not need to raise your voice to be heard, my love,” he whispers. “I will always listen.”

Elektra Natchios

- Elektra moves like a shadow, speaks like a blade. She has spent a lifetime in the dark, but with you, she learns that love does not need to be loud to be real.

- She understands your silence in a way few others can. She does not push, does not pry—she simply exists beside you, unwavering, patient. If you need space, she gives it. If you need grounding, her hand finds yours, steady and sure.

- When your anxiety takes hold, she does not fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she teaches you how to fight—not because she expects you to, but because she wants you to know that you are strong. Even in stillness. Even in silence.

- If someone ever dares to mock your quietness, Elektra doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. One sharp glance, one tilt of her head, and suddenly, the offender remembers they have somewhere else to be.

- And when the night is quiet, when it’s just the two of you tangled in silk and moonlight, she runs a slow hand down your spine and whispers, “The world does not deserve you.” And you believe her—because in her eyes, you are more dangerous, more beautiful, more powerful than anyone could ever understand.

[tsukisangel]

gossiping with kenma

relationship ꕤ kenma x reader!

cw/tags ꕤ bokuaka mentions, fluff, gossip about friends!

wc ꕤ 636!

a/n: short lil thing while i write my new tsuki x reader fic! super super inspired by a post written by keijicentric! go follow them fr i love seeing their lil drabbles on my feed it's so fun!! @keijicentric i hope you like it and i hope this was okay lol as soon as i read that post i got inspired to write this

you rushed through your apartment, tossing your things on the couch and knocking quickly on your boyfriend’s office door. as soon as he said it was okay to come in, you slammed the door open, grinning excitedly at him. he glanced at you for a second and raised a brow. “what’s up?” he asked. you noticed behind him he was streaming, but he had turned the camera off. 

“you need to mute!” you exclaimed.

“uh, i’m in the middle of a game. can it wait until it’s over?” he asked. you quickly shook your head and he sighed. “hold on, chat.” he muted his microphone, moving one side of his headphones off his ear so he could hear you. the chat was going wild. of course, they were all wondering what was going on and what you could possibly have to say. was it good? was it bad? there were a lot of people asking if you were pregnant or if you guys had gotten married.

little did they know, it was gossip, about you and kenma’s mutual friends. “guess what i heard from kuroo at work today?!” you exclaimed.

“what?” he asked.

you took a deep breath. “akaashi asked bokuto out!” 

he raised a brow. “no. what?” he asked. “i always thought it’d be the other way around.”

“i know!” you grinned wide, sitting on his lap and getting comfortable to tell him everything. “apparently, akaashi had this whole thing planned. he got bokuto to read a book.” kenma snorted. “it was a short manga, but a book nonetheless!”

“he can’t even read a news article without falling asleep.” kenma chuckled.

“but he read it, for akaashi.” you smiled. “which is super romantic! anyway, kuroo said the book had two owls. it was a gray owl and a brown owl. it was about the owls and their story, obviously akaashi and bokuto. bokuto didn’t catch on until the last page, when the brown owl said, um,” you furrowed your brows.

“don’t tell me you forgot.” kenma sighed at you.

“no! i got it! it’s on the tip of my tongue!” he rolled his eyes and you smacked his arm. “oh! so, the brown owl says, while the owls are sitting on a tree branch i think, ‘bokuto-san, i’m in love with you’, and kuroo was told by akaashi that bokuto gave him a look with the widest eyes he’d ever seen!”

“wait, they were together while reading?” kenma asked. he had finished his game and was gently caressing your hands as the two of you gossiped about your friends.

“how do you think he finished it?” you asked.

“right.” kenma chuckled. “carry on.” 

“oh, so, that i love you page was the last page and it was this big drawing, and the owl representing bokuto had an empty speech bubble.” you grinned. “this is the best part!” you squealed. kenma nodded. “so, bokuto had looked up at akaashi with super wide eyes, then he put the book down, leaving akaashi confused of course, went and grabbed a pen, and then wrote in all capital letters, ‘i love you akaashi!’” you squealed once more, and kenma raised his brows. 

“i can’t believe he was smart enough to fill it in.” kenma joked.

“i know! it was so perfect.” you groaned.

“like when i had that game made for you when i proposed?” he asked.

you grinned. “yes!” you said happily. “it was exactly like that!” you hugged him tight. “that’s all.” you kissed his cheek and got off of his lap. “i have to shower.” you unmuted his stream. “bye, chat! have fun! don’t bully him too much!” you sang, and hummed as you walked out, closing the door.

he chuckled, turning his camera on. “don’t ask.” he said to the stream. “none of your business.”

previous work (hq boys take you to a party) | next work

[neeeooon]

Hey Elle!!! 😚🫶May I request bllk boys (Nagi, Rin, Sae, Bachira, Shidou) with s/o who's rlly into anime, cosplay, spends all their money on figurines, merch etc and makes them go to conventions with them!!! 🤸🏼‍♀️ love your writing!

yesssss LMAO okay i had fun w thiss thank you sm for the request!!! 💛💛

when you’re an anime fan ;

bf bllk x gn!reader

nagi seishiro

-> he doesn’t like the fact that he has to share you with your dozens and dozens of anime plushies

-> “nagi! you’re crushing mr. sakamoto!!” “what’s that?” “?! please move so he can breathe :)” he decides not to fight you on this. “.. okay.”

-> though nagi doesn’t quite understand your obsession with spending money on little figures and plushies of cartoon characters, he works around it. it’s easier to spend a little time looking for a clear spot than upset you after moving something he wasn’t supposed to

-> until he comes over one day to find a large snorlax plush in his usually empty spot on your bed

-> “.. is this your way of telling me to move?” “what? no, it’s for you! your room is like a prison cell, babe. you need something to make it more personal. plus, he looks just like you!”

-> nagi doesn’t see it, but he sleeps with that damn snorlax plush every night he spends away from you <3

itoshi rin

-> “y/n? put the phone down…” “just one click, rin. one click and it’s all mine.” “y/n, so you really need twenty-six figures of the same four characters..?” “yes.” “really?” “… maybe?”

-> he manages to convince you to give him the phone so you don’t spend your entire paycheck on anime merchandise

-> he’ll stay up late watching the shows with you, and he actually follows along with and likes quite a bit of them. not enough to blow his entire paycheck, but enough

-> “i think we should be meruem and komugi from hxh for halloween.” “… but don’t they d—“ “DONT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

-> once you promise to stop crippling your bank account, he agrees to dress up with you <3

itoshi sae

-> bro is not impressed

-> he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself as you drag him around the merch store, grumbling about how ugly and expensive everything is

-> you ignore him and fill your little basket with mangas and posters for your room, but when it comes down to it, sae hands over his card at checkout before you have the chance

-> “?? i thought you said everything here is ugly and expensive?” “oh, it is. i don’t want you spending your money on ugly things, y/n.” you smile at his excuse and kiss his cheek

-> he’s not ecstatic at the cost of everything, but sae doesn’t complain about it to you, either. he even helps you hand your posters at home (those, he does insult)

-> “why does that guy have such big ears?” “be nice to geto!! those are his earrings.” “he looks like a weirdo.” “leave him be 😭”

bachira meguru

-> you better believe he’s feeding your addiction

-> “ooh, y/n, look at this one!! do you have this one?” “i’ve been looking everywhere for that character! how did you find it?” “my monster told me to check the back shelf..”

-> keeps a full, detailed list of every anime you mention starting or liking so he can surprise you with merch

-> “y/n, look! i made a hakura sakura keychain for you!!” “you made it?! i love it!! but what’s the occasion..?” “i just felt like making something for you ☺️” you may have teared up a bit

shidou ryusei

-> you were planning to cosplay one of your favorite anime characters, and the costume was going on sale at a convention. thankfully, shidou didn’t fight when you asked him to join you

-> “so, we’re gonna stand in this line for how long again?” “depends on how quickly they wave us through. could be a few hours.” “… let’s fucking do this.”

-> shidou has to body a few people, and you do get escorted out by security, but you get the costume! so you consider the trip a win

-> “you didn’t have to punch that guy for me,” you hum as you dab at your boyfriend’s scabbing knuckles. “he was going to push you out of the way. you wanted it more than he did, and he shouldn’t put hands on someone for a dress.” “you did, though..” “for you. not the costume… it is a cool costume, though.” “i know, right?!”

-> you post photos and videos of yourself all dressed up online, making sure to tag shidou for helping you complete your look <3

[tfmerc]

CAPT. JOHN PRICE | LT. SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY — MINORS | AGELESS DNI

A/N – This actually took me months to finish T-T genuinely couldn’t figure out where to take it, i think i like it… maybe? the ending is kinda shitty

CONTENT WARNINGS – 3way (kinda?), voyeurism, use of: cock | cunt | pup – no aftercare :(

“Atta boy…” Price’s voice was rough, hips rolling up and out of his chair as they thrusted forward; head tilting back as he basked in the feeling of a warm, hot mouth. His hands threaded through blond locks, tugging at the roots harshly.

Simon shuffled on his knees, large brown eyes hidden behind fluttering eyelids - tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, gagging down on his captains thick cock. The younger man rolled his hips, whining as his length strained in his cargos.

The men had been uninterrupted for almost an hour, allowing Price to indulge in his Lieutenant; sing his sweet praises for every inch he took and every minute he kept it down.

“Sir, your signature is required,” Your voice was like music to Price’s ears, watching the way you unexpectedly shuffled into the office—a jumble of files hugged firmly to your chest, eyes filled with the usual warmth.

The smile on your lips never faltered completely unaware of Simon’s position under your superiors desk. Price’s boot moved to press firmly against the blond’s hard-on, a look spreading to his features as your ears perk; honing in on the sound of a deep, muffled whine filling the room.

“Is this a bad time…?” Your voice shook slightly, feet shuffling from side to side as you stare at the captain with wide eyes; cheeks warming at the causality of the situation.

Price shook his head with a scoff, hand flexing into Simon’s hair—tugging roughly at the roots. His chest rose and fell with gentle staggers, lips twitching with the need to make noise, “Never a bad time to have you in my office, love.”

Simon wined lowly, large, glossy eyes staring up at his superior—saliva dripping down his chin, cheeks flushing bright pink from loss of air, “Why don’t you c’mere, yeah? Get a good look at how well he takes it.”

You’d slowly stepped forward eyes darting around the room for any sight of a set up, this couldn’t be real—right?

The older man man reaches raises a brow at your hesitance, shoulders squaring back slightly into his chair before another groan slipped past his lips—hand reach down to place a firm slap to the side of Simon’s face, “Sit and hold, not suck like a desperate slut.”

“Sir… this is– I could lose my job.” Price hummed, firm hand clasping and tugging at his blond’s hair. A sharp, almost shaky exhale passing through his lips—making no move to tuck himself away, “Am I dialling the higher ups, or am I inviting you in.”

It wasn’t even a question, a statement—if anything, the man was calling your bluff. Coaxing you into a false sense of vulnerability, playing with your mind.

This wasn’t real.

Heavy hands found their way to your waist, the action causing you to jump; skin crawling with goosebumps as a gasp passed into the air. Your lashes fluttered, chapped lips skimming across the curve of your neck, “He’s house trained, treats his toys nicely.”

Price spoke from his unmoving position, releasing his hound for some… enrichment—a reward for his good behaviour. The man behind you moved slowly, drinking in the warmth of your body as he pawed at your skin; enjoying the skittishness.

“Little bunny…” His voice was rough, scarred hand slipping down your stomach—fingers grazing your inner thigh as he huffed and puffed against your skin, “So right for the taking… all mine, aren’t ya’?”

Your gulp was practically audible, hesitantly nodding as you held eye contact with the elder man—slowly leaning into his pups touch, papers slipping from your arms. Folders spreading across the carpeted floors, classified documents scattering across the grey.

“What a mess you’ve caused,” Price tsk’d, hand pumping his slick length in an almost bored manner; watching Simon’s hands explore your clothed body. Slowly his hands creeped towards that pretty blue blouse, rough fingers catching against the lace, “Maybe we should teach you some manners, hm?”

Simon smiled against your neck, tongue flickering across the sensitive flesh as he rutted against your ass—hand firmly cupping your cunt, humming at the warmth; the arousal, “C’mon… let me play, bunny.”

Within seconds you were splayed out, chest shoved firmly against the ground—lips parted, drool seeping out of the corner of your lips. Saliva puddling and staining the grey carpet, “Ah– please… m-more!”

The blond practically snarled above you, hips snapping into you at an unforgiving pace—his own whines drowning out yours, fighting for the Captains attention.

“C’mon boy, i’ve seen you fuck your pillow harder than this,” Price’s words only spurred Simon on, his brows pinched in pleasure; gaze barely straying for Price’s as he plowed your cunt, heavy balls slapping deliciously against your clit.

The air was thick with sex, moans bouncing from the walls as you both neared released—Price watching with his own share of appreciate groans, thumb swiping across his leaking tip as he watched your eyes roll and thighs shake.

Your whines picked up in pitch as your cunt sucked Simon in, nails embedding into the long ruined carpet as you came; frothy ring forming around the base of Simon’s cock as it twitched inside of you—thick seed filling you within seconds.

[gf2bellamy]

hi lovely :)!

I have a Spencer Reid x Reader req

(I’m new to requesting, and I also completely understand if you don’t want to write this)

Reader has been working at the bau for about less than a year, and hasn’t gone to hang out with anyone outside of work. Eventually one day she gets invited over to Garcia’s house for a team party, and to everyone’s surprise (especially Spencer’s) she dresses completely different outside of work, almost like a hyper manic pixie dream girl straight from the movies. Spencer complements her, and it leads to some budding romance and silly flirting :)

you can make any adjustments you’d like, I really don’t mind.

thank you!

- 🐞

dreamgirl — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing a/n: hiii 🐞 !! this request is so cute !! i loved writing this <3 also the pictures r just here for the aesthetic not necessarily representing readers outfit :) and i did a bit of research on hyper manic pixie dream girsl and i hope it's what you were thinking of ( i mostly took inspo from jessica day😭 )

The scent of vanilla frosting and freshly baked cake filled Garcia’s apartment as Spencer Reid carefully poured a bag of chips into a large glass bowl.

At the counter, Garcia was meticulously decorating a cake, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she attempted to pipe a perfect heart in the center. “Ugh, this won’t work,” she muttered under her breath, squinting at her creation. 

Spencer glanced at her before the sound of the doorbell pulled his attention. 

“Can you get that?” Garcia asked, not looking up. “My hands are kind of full—literally, full of frosting and frustration.” 

He placed the half-empty bag of chips down and made his way to the door. As he pulled it open, his mouth fell slightly open, words momentarily escaping him. 

Standing there, holding a neatly wrapped box of cookies, was you. 

You, who always dressed in neutral tones at work. You, who usually blended in with the professional, serious atmosphere of the BAU. 

But this? This was a whole new side of you. 

You were wearing a vibrant, oversized cardigan covered in mismatched patterns—flowers, stars, maybe even a tiny dinosaur if he looked closely enough. Underneath, a pastel pink t-shirt featured a giant, cartoonish strawberry in the center. Your bag, also pink, was slung over your shoulder, covered in pins and keychains that jingled softly as you shifted on your feet. 

“Hi, Spencer!” you greeted cheerfully, eyes bright. “I’m so glad I found the right place.” You let out a small, nervous laugh. “I got lost, like, five times.” 

Spencer was still standing in the doorway, staring at you , trying to process what he was seeing. This was not what he had expected. 

Before he could formulate a response, a voice piped up behind him. 

“Boy genius, are you going to let her in, or are we just gonna leave her standing out there ?” 

Garcia appeared behind him, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel before stopping in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she took you in from head to toe. 

“Oh. My. God,” she gasped dramatically, hands flying to her chest. “This outfit is everything.” 

You laughed, cheeks warming under the attention. “I usually tone it down for work.” 

Garcia shook her head in mock disappointment. “Such a shame. We’ve been robbed of this fabulousness for months. But not tonight! Come in, my little pastel dream!” 

Spencer finally blinked, stepping aside to let you pass, still visibly processing the contrast between your work self and—this. 

You smiled at him as you walked by, completely unaware of the way he was still watching you, fascinated by this entirely new version of someone he thought he already knew. 

Garcia linked her arm through yours as she led you toward the kitchen. “Okay, we need to discuss this transformation immediately. Where do you shop? How do I get a cardigan like that? And—” she gasped dramatically “—please tell me you brought something sugary in that little box.” 

“I did,” you confirmed, holding up the cookies. 

“I knew I liked you.” 

Spencer lingered near the door for a moment before closing it behind him, a small, curious smile tugging at his lips. 

Half an hour later, nearly everyone had arrived, the team had been nothing but warm and welcoming. You’d lost count of the number of compliments you’d received—Emily had gushed over your cardigan, JJ had called you “adorable,” and even Derek had thrown in a playful “Look at you, all cute and colorful. Who would’ve thought?” 

Even Hotch—stoic, serious Hotch—had cracked the smallest hint of a smile and simply said, “It’s good to see you here.” 

Now, you found yourself drawn to one of Penelope’s many shelves, admiring the collection of trinkets she had displayed. Tiny figurines, colorful glass bottles, and an alarming number of cat-themed items covered nearly every inch. 

As you reached out to gently poke a ceramic cat with oversized eyes, a familiar presence appeared beside you. 

“It’s so cute,” you murmured, turning slightly when you realized Spencer was standing next to you. 

Spencer, who had been staring at you practically all night. Spencer, who had endured teasing remarks from both JJ and Derek about his obvious interest. 

He cleared his throat, glancing quickly at the figurine as if he hadn’t been watching you the whole time. “Yeah,” he nodded, a little too fast, trying (and failing) to act casual. 

A small smile tugged at your lips as you noticed his gaze lingering—not on the cat, but on you. More specifically, on the colorful hair clips securing small sections of your hair. 

“Do you like them?” you asked, amusement dancing in your voice. 

Spencer blinked, caught off guard. “What?” 

“My hair clips,” you clarified, tilting your head slightly. “You keep staring at them.” 

A faint pink dusted his cheeks. “Oh. Yeah—yeah, I do,” he admitted, a small, sheepish smile forming when he realized he’d been caught. 

Your smile widened. “You can borrow them if you want.” 

That made him huff out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think I could pull them off.” 

You playfully squinted at him, pretending to assess. “I don’t know, Reid. I think you could totally rock the look.” 

His lips quirked at the teasing tone in your voice, but before he could respond, he blurted out, “I like your outfit.” 

It came out too quickly, like his brain had tried to filter it, but failed at the last second. His eyes shut briefly, as if he was mentally kicking himself for how awkwardly it had slipped out. 

Your heart skipped slightly at the unexpected compliment. “Yeah?” you prompted, tilting your head. 

He nodded, gaze flickering to yours before quickly shifting to the shelf again. “It’s... really different from how you usually dress at work. But it suits you.” 

“Thanks, Spencer.” You nudged his arm lightly, lowering your voice just enough to make him glance at you again. “I like your outfit, too.” 

His brows raised slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “This?” He glanced down at his usual button-up and cardigan combination. 

You grinned. “Yeah. Classic Reid. Wouldn’t change a thing.” 

He exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. But you could tell, from the way his lips curled at the corners, that he liked hearing it. 

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then , you leaned a little closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “You know, if you ever want to borrow the cardigan, I wouldn’t say no. I think you’d look... interesting in pastel dinosaurs.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and then he let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to my usual look, thanks.” 

“Suit yourself,” you said with a shrug, your grin widening. “But just know, the offer’s always open. You might surprise yourself.” 

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” he said quietly, his tone warm. “I like it.” 

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his voice, and you looked down at the ceramic cat again, pretending to examine it more closely. “Well, maybe I’ll have to surprise you more often.” 

Spencer didn’t respond right away, but when you glanced up, he was smiling—a small, genuine smile that made your stomach do a little flip. “I’d like that,” he said simply. 

The moment lingered.

And then, as if on cue, Garcia’s voice cut through the room. 

“Reid! Stop hogging my guest and come help me with this cake!” 

Spencer blinked, startled out of the moment, and you laughed softly. “Duty calls,” you said, nudging him again. 

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for just a second longer before he nodded. “Yeah. Duty.” 

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your fingers brushing against the ceramic cat one last time.

[lilliankoo]

play you like a game, boy || chapter 2.

🗡️ antagonist jungkook x princess reader

trope: "he's mean to everyone but worships the ground you walk on", will absolutely do anything for you, strangers to lovers.

word count: 2.1k

link to the previous chapter 1

synopsis: he looks like an angel but is a devil- well that's what your kingdom thinks. he is also the blessed leader of tribe "lav"; even a leaf cannot move without his permission but here he was in-front of you on his knees. while the whole tribe bows to him- he only bows to you. now, there are two paths presented to you- marry him & return his love or refuse & watch him conquer your father's kingdom. power is an evil yet a tempting apple-and now its in your hands- are you going to take a bite; taste the sweet poison or will you use it to tempt others? its an evil world with evil options.. do you think you can handle him?

chapter warnings: mention of blood, machete. rituals, mentions of sacrifices, kissing, possessive jungkook, slightly jealous jungkook, simp jungkook, calling the reader “mother”.

————————————————————————

You are confused, and so are your parents. You can tell by the way they both look at you, then at Jungkook.

"Ritual?" your father asks, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook gives a slight smile, looking around, and you can't quite read the expression on his face. Whatever is going on inside his mind, you're sure it's not good. He sighs and takes a few steps back.

"Here in Lav, we don't believe in marriages. We perform a soul-tying ritual," he says.

The words sound foreign, almost alien to your ears. Your brows furrow instinctively, a wave of confusion washing over you. You’re too scared to look at your parents right now. You glance at Jungkook instead, noticing the way his eyes seem to drink you in—too much adoration, compassion, care... love. Your mother had been right; Jungkook is indeed in love with you.

You gulp, trying to steady your racing heart, and look at your father, standing next to you. He meets your gaze and, without a word, intertwines his hand with yours. You find solace in the familiar gesture. Growing up, you’d always been closer to your father than your mother, but what you don’t notice is the way Jungkook’s jaw clenches, the silent fury in his gaze as he looks at your father.

Jungkook clears his throat, his tone soft but firm as he extends his hand toward you. “Come,” he murmurs.

You hesitate, unsure of what to do. But your father squeezes your hand in reassurance. It’s unspoken, but you understand the message: don’t ruin this. Slowly, you take Jungkook’s hand and follow him up the stairs toward the platform. He leads you to stand in front of two chairs, centered on the stage, while your parents stand by the side with the villagers.

You turn back to glance at them when, suddenly, an elderly man approaches, draping a large mantle made of fur and leather over your shoulders. As he does, he mutters a prayer in a language you don't understand. The mantle is identical to Jungkook's, except for one difference—his mantle bears a tiger’s head perched on top. The sight unsettles you, but you try not to dwell on it.

At the stage with you and Jungkook, besides the old man, stand two women and the man who brought you here earlier. One of the women, dressed in brown leather, steps forward, smiling warmly. She speaks to Jungkook, and he nods. He motions for you to sit. You comply, but the tight corset and heavy mantle make it difficult. You try to fold the dress by your feet, but the corset gives you little room to move.

Without hesitation, Jungkook kneels before you, adjusting your dress with surprising tenderness. A strange, unfamiliar sensation tugs at your chest. As he does so, you notice the shocked expressions of the onlookers—the elderly man’s mouth hangs open, the women exchange bewildered glances, and the crowd murmurs amongst themselves. Your parents stand frozen, your father’s mouth agape while your mother wears a knowing smirk, her eyes gleaming with the unspoken words: “I told you.”

"Is it okay?" Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your trance, and you nod absentmindedly. His smile returns, a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes, before he stands, sitting back in his chair.

As time passes, preparations for the ritual continue. Everything happening around you feels utterly foreign. A man drums in the corner, another blows into a shell-like instrument, and yet another makes guttural, animal-like sounds. It’s all too much for your senses.

A sharp, shrill noise cuts through the chaos, and your eyes are drawn to a pair of goats, tied to a post in the corner. You can’t shake the growing suspicion that they are here to be sacrificed. A chill runs down your spine at the thought.

As you survey the scene, another woman approaches with a bowl. From your sitting position, you can’t see the contents, but when she dips her fingers into the bowl and reaches for your face, you instinctively lean back. She steps back, waiting for Jungkook’s cue.

He exchanges a few words with her in their native language, then turns to you. “You don’t have to be scared. This is just fuller’s earth clay mixed with rosewater and coconut oil. It’s necessary, a vital part of the ritual.”

His voice is calm, almost too sweet, and for a moment, you doubt his intentions. He gestures to the woman, who begins applying the clay to his throat, drawing a half-moon symbol on his forehead and two parallel lines on his jaw. Once she finishes, she turns to you, and again you recoil.

But this time, you have a plan.

“I want you to apply it,” you say softly, a hint of challenge in your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise. The old man, who had draped your mantle, clears his throat and steps forward, perhaps to interject. From what you can gather, Jungkook isn’t supposed to do this. The man speaks, but Jungkook raises a hand, silencing him without even looking in his direction.

With a smile, Jungkook turns to you and nods. The crowd gasps as he cradles your face in his hands, his fingers gently applying the clay, mirroring the symbols on his own face. He tilts your head from side to side, admiring his work, and when his gaze locks with yours, he murmurs, “Pretty.”

Anger rises in you, burning hot. This wasn’t the way you wanted him to act. The ritual, his control, it’s all too much. You feel your jaw clench, your eyes sting with frustration. But you hold it in.

The ritual continues for a while longer, with more strange and uncomfortable actions. You wear a crown-like headband made of peacock feathers, bracelets, threads, and bangles are tied to your wrists, and you’re made to recite several prayers.

Finally, the old man steps forward once more, nodding toward Jungkook.

“The ritual is complete,” the man says. “But one thing remains. To seal it fully, there is still one step left.”

Jungkook turned to you and gently intertwined his hands with yours, making you stand. You both descend the few steps toward the post, but just before you reach it, Jungkook diverts your path toward your parents.

For the first time, your father smiles at you. Your mother, though, looks more relieved than anything. Just as you’re about to embrace them, Jungkook steps in front of you, pulling your father into a hug instead.

“Congratulations,” Jungkook says, his voice sincere.

Your mother echoes the sentiment.

“We would love to have you both stay, but the next ritual is only for the people of Lav,” Jungkook says, his gaze turning to your father. “The carriage is ready.” He gestures toward the vehicle in the distance.

A wave of dread washes over you as your father nods, though he quickly asks if they can speak with you privately. Jungkook denies the request, telling him to say whatever he wants in front of him.

“Take care. May the gods be with you,” your father says softly, caressing your head.

“You’ll be fine here, my baby. Jungkook will keep you safe,” your mother says, her eyes fixed on him.

The weight of their departure hits you like a ton of bricks. Tears slip down your face, and you throw your arms around your parents, desperate not to let go.

“I want to go with you,” you plead, but before your father can respond, Jungkook steps forward.

“You cannot,” he says, his voice low and firm.

Rage flares up inside you, and suddenly everything feels too tight. The mantle, the crown, the bracelets—all feel suffocating. You try to pull at them desperately, your jaw clenched, tears streaming down your face. Jungkook grabs your arms to steady you, forcing you to meet his gaze.

For the first time today, you see the real Jungkook. His brows are furrowed, his jaw clenched, and the love that once seemed to soften him is gone. “You are my woman now,” he breathes, his voice low and serious. “You are the mother of this forest and these people. If you leave, everyone will die—including the forest, the people, and me. We are tied to you.”

His words strike you silent. You stare at him, searching for something—anything—that might explain this. But he says nothing more.

When he lets go of your arms, he rubs them gently as if apologizing.

—------------------------------------------------------

You watch as the carriage pulls away, your parents leaving you behind in this strange village.

“Come,” Jungkook says, his voice gentle now as he takes your hand. You follow him, the energy drained from you.

“This is the last ritual,” Jungkook whispers in your ear. “After this, we will be each other’s forever.”

His words send a shiver through your spine. The thought of living here as his "wife" does not sit well with you.

“What will happen?” you ask quietly, your heart pounding.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand. “We are going to gift our forest goddess, Devti. This day wouldn’t have been possible without her,” he says.

Before you can ask another question, a woman steps forward with a machete in hand. Your eyes widen in horror. The goats, the sacrifice—it's happening.

The woman’s voice booms through the clearing. “Everyone, the goddess Devti has blessed us once again. She has given our leader, Jeon Jungkook, another gift. For years, this forest has yearned for a mother, and here she is.”

Your mind reels at the mention of “mother.”

"Today, Jeon Jungkook and Y/N became one. Today, Lav and its people got their mother," she finishes, and the crowd erupts in deafening cheers.

“May Devti keep blessing the Lav, protect her people, and may Devti bless our leader Jungkook and mother Y/N with a prosperous future,” the woman concludes.

The crowd chants, “No man can defeat him, for he is blessed by the Devti.”

You are trembling. The weight of the machete in your hand feels too heavy. The goats cry in terror, and for a moment, you wonder if they know what’s coming. You look at Jungkook, but his smile only intensifies your fear.

"Go on," he urges softly. "Give her blood."

You shake your head, your breath quickening. You cannot bring yourself to kill innocent creatures. With trembling hands, you pass the machete back to Jungkook.

"I can't," you whisper. "I can't kill them."

Jungkook’s eyes soften, and he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, my love, this isn’t killing. It’s offering blood to the goddess."

But nothing he says helps. You are suffocating, your mind reeling, when a sudden idea flashes across your mind.

“Jungkook,” you say, your voice shaking but resolute. “Your goddess needs blood, right?”

He nods, sensing your change of tone.

“Well,” you continue, looking directly at him, “I don't want to kill the goats. They're babies, they should be with their mother. But... if she wants blood...” You pause, wiping your tears. “Then give her yours.”

You place your head against his chest, allowing yourself a moment of quiet satisfaction as his eyes widen.

But before he can react, one of the villagers steps forward, his voice protesting.

“That’s against the ritual,” he says.

You don’t give him a chance to finish. You step in front of him and snap, “Do not interfere while I’m speaking to my husband.”

The man immediately bows, a look of fear crossing his face.

Jungkook steps forward, his hand on your back, as he pushes the man away. “Only talk to my wife like that if you want to become one with the fire,” he warns, his voice cold.

You stand there, momentarily taken aback by his response. You suppress a smirk.

In a sudden motion, Jungkook grabs the machete, surprising the crowd when he slides the blade across his palm. Blood drips from his hand as he walks toward the stone statue of the goddess Devti. He wipes the blood over the stone, breathing heavily as the air grows thick with tension.

The crowd stands frozen in place, too afraid to make a sound. The silence is suffocating, and for reasons you cannot explain, you suddenly find yourself walking toward him.

In that moment, something inside you shifts. You grab his face and kiss him.

For a brief second, he is caught off guard, but then his hands find their place around you, pulling you closer. He cradles your jaw with his blood covered hand, he moans into the kiss. You break the kiss, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

Before anything else can happen, the old man steps forward, taking the machete from Jungkook and casting it aside.

He pats Jungkook on the back, his voice booming across the gathering.

“May the goddess approve of this,” he says. “May she bless the mother as she has blessed this village. From this day, till the very end, Mother Y/N and Jeon Jungkook shall be together.”

The crowd erupts in cheers, and your future here begins to solidify.

————————————————————————

next chapter: march 10th

taglist: @jincapableoflove @voitier @koocreampie @kookxin @mysticprincessstrawberry @imwutim @synamon @withmuchluv-tannie @taekritimin123 let me know if u would like to be added.

————————————————————————

thank you so much for the love on this fic, im happy that you guys are enjoying it :) i have so many more cool ideas, once i finish this series i will start posting them.

[blairxbear]

Boyfriend Headcanons - Tamaki Amajiki

What it's like dating Tamaki Amajiki

A/N: I will be doing these individual headcanons for each of our favourite MHA boys. Let me know if you guys have any specific requests or characters you want to see these boyfriend headcanons for!

The Shy, Flustered, Deeply Devoted Boyfriend

Dating Tamaki Amajiki is like experiencing the purest, most genuine love imaginable. He may be incredibly shy and introverted, but when he loves, he loves deeply, fiercely, and without hesitation. His devotion to you is absolute, even if he’s too nervous to express it outright. He’s the type of boyfriend who won’t say “I love you” a million times a day, but he’ll show it in a thousand small ways that mean even more.

Tamaki isn’t the kind of guy who falls in love easily, but once he does? He’s all in, and there’s no turning back.

The Flustered, Soft, Hopelessly Shy Boyfriend

Tamaki is the KING of getting flustered. The moment you show him affection, his brain short-circuits.

Hold his hand? Bright red.

Kiss his cheek? Visibly shaking.

Call him handsome? Completely malfunctions.

“W-wait, you actually like me? Are you sure?” (Yes, Tamaki. You are literally the cutest thing ever.)

He struggles with eye contact at first, especially when you say something sweet to him. He’ll glance away, mumble a flustered “thank you,” and try his hardest not to pass out from how much he loves you.

If you initiate cuddles, his whole body tenses up at first—but then he absolutely melts into you.

His arms wrap around you tightly, his face buried in your shoulder, and he’s so warm, so gentle, and so content just holding you.

The Sweet, Devoted Boyfriend Who Worships You

Tamaki may not say much, but he adores you more than anything. If he had to choose between saving the world or making sure you’re okay?

He’s choosing you. Every time. Without hesitation.

You are his safe space. Around others, he’s reserved and anxious, but with you? He can finally relax, finally breathe.

He remembers every little detail about you.

You casually mention liking a specific snack? He buys it for you the next day.

You say you had a bad day once in passing? He surprises you with something comforting.

He doesn’t always say what he’s feeling, but his love is so obvious in the way he treats you.

He always makes sure you eat, you’re comfortable, you’re happy.

He offers you his scarf when it’s cold without you even asking.

He waits for you after class, after work, after anything—just to make sure you get home safe.

The Extremely Flustered but Affectionate Boyfriend

Tamaki is so touch-starved it’s actually heartbreaking. The first time you hug him, he freezes completely like he doesn’t know what to do.

Then he slowly—shyly, hesitantly—wraps his arms around you. And when you don’t pull away?

He melts. Completely, utterly melts.

He actually LOVES physical affection, he’s just shy about it.

Holding hands? He gets so nervous at first, but once he’s comfortable, he loves lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing gently.

Cuddling? He LOVES IT, even if it makes him flustered. He likes being the big spoon because holding you makes him feel safe too.

Kisses? He gets so nervous the first time, but when you kiss him, he forgets to breathe.

His face burns, his hands shake slightly, but when he kisses you back? It’s soft, hesitant, and filled with so much love.

The Protective, Ride-or-Die Boyfriend

Tamaki isn’t the aggressive type, but if anyone disrespects you? He will step in immediately.

His usual nervous demeanor vanishes, and his voice gets sharp and commanding.

“That’s enough. Leave them alone.” (His gaze is cold, unwavering, and scary enough to make anyone back off immediately.)

If you ever feel unsafe, he doesn’t even ask questions—he just pulls you behind him and makes sure you’re okay.

If you get hurt, even slightly, he panics.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? W-we should go to Recovery Girl, just in case—”

You have a tiny scratch.

“That’s still an injury!” (Yes, he is overreacting, and yes, it’s adorable.)

The Secretly Romantic Boyfriend

Tamaki isn’t the flashy type, but when he does something romantic, it’s unbelievably sweet.

Loves giving you little surprises that are deeply personal.

He won’t just buy you flowers—he’ll find out what your favorite kind is and bring those.

He won’t just take you out for a date—he’ll remember something you mentioned WEEKS ago and plan a whole date around it.

Writes you little love notes but gets too embarrassed to hand them to you.

You find one hidden in your bag that just says:

“I… uh… I hope you’re having a good day. If you ever doubt how amazing you are, please remember that I think you’re the best person in the world.”

Would absolutely get flustered if you flirted with him, but if HE ever flirts first? GAME OVER.

He’ll say something sweet out of nowhere, and when you blush? He immediately loses his mind.

“D-did I say that out loud? Oh my god—” (Hides his face in his hands.)

The “I Miss You Even When You’re Right There” Boyfriend

Tamaki doesn’t like being away from you for too long.

If he hasn’t seen you all day, he gets quiet, fidgety, and a little sad.

When you finally show up, he relaxes instantly—his whole body language softens.

Hates leaving you after dates.

He’ll hesitate at the door, shifting on his feet, until you finally say, “Tamaki, do you want to stay a little longer?”

“…Yes.” (His voice is so soft, so full of longing.)

If you fall asleep on him, he does not move. At all.

He just sits there, holding you, staring at you with pure awe and disbelief.

The Absolute Best Things About Dating Tamaki Amajiki

He may be nervous and shy, but his love is deep, powerful, and unwavering.

He will never take you for granted. Every time he sees you, he falls in love all over again.

He is your safe place, just as you are his.

Loves you more than he even knows how to express—but in every little glance, every soft touch, and every shy, hesitant “I love you”…

It’s so, so obvious.

Final Thoughts

Dating Tamaki Amajiki is like being wrapped in the softest, most gentle kind of love. He may be shy, flustered, and nervous, but his love is deep, unwavering, and endlessly devoted.

He loves you with every quiet moment, every lingering touch, and every shy, whispered word. He may not be the loudest person in the room, but when it comes to you?

He loves you louder than anyone ever could.

[hrts4nagi]

she's the man!

pairing :: itoshi rin x f!reader

synopsis :: hiori y/n is devastated after the news of the girls soccer team being cut from the sport program and unable to join the boys team. to rub more salt on the wound, she just broke off with her long-time boyfriend. devising a plan, she disguises herself as her twin brother to take his place at blue lock academy, an all-male prep school.

what she doesn’t expect is falling in love with the academy’s star player.

012.

wc: 731

skincare after practice was the best. the sprawled sheet mask laid on your face, sighing in relief at the cooling sensation it provided along with a slight rose scent. rin gets up, presumably heading to the gym with the attire he had on. you glanced at the clock, it was reading 5:54. you scan the room and notice the yoga mat tucked away in the corner. 

 “oh you bring you own mat to the gym? you're very thorough.”

“they say they sanitize them but i highly doubt it.”

“that’s fair, better be safe than sorry!”

absentmindedly, the ravenette goes to grab his yoga mat, still facing you. what the two of you failed to notice was the hairy eight-legged creature nestled on top of the mat, slowly crawling up his arm. rin fans his shirt. “hey, it's a little hot in here. did you turn off the fan?” 

“huh? no i don't think so,” turning to the fan to adjust the setting the color drains from your face, eyes landing on the spider nearly on rin’s shoulder.

“what the fuck? what is that?” you yell pointing at rin’s arm.

“what are you talking about,” it was at the moment rin finally discovered the creature on his arm. the fuzzy legs were all that he felt even under his compression shirt. he shakes his arm furiously to get the tarantula off of him. seeing it was no use, rin  resulted in swatting the spider off.  unfortunately for you, it flies across the room right onto your cleats, dead center.

“oh my god! not my cleats!” you whine.

who would've thought that the ever-so composed itoshi rin would be here on the top of your bed, screaming in fear. the two of you seeked shelter from the creature, watching in horror as it roamed your dorm as if it lived there. he shudders at the fact, continuously swiping at his arm as if the spider still resided there. 

“rin, get it!”

“hard pass. that is the one thing i absolutely refuse to touch!”

“but you’re the guy!”

he raises his eyebrow.

“the bigger guy!”

you swear this is the most emotion you’ve seen rin express. sure, you were freaking out but you swear you hear him start to whimper in fear of the spider as pleas escape from his lips. both of you jump onto rin’s bed to build distance away from the spider. screams continue to fill the room as the two of you are seemingly playing the floor is lava. to your absolute horror, you lose track of the spider. at this realization, you let out a scream you didn’t even think you were capable of. you were positive the two of you were about to earn yourselves a noise complaint. 

“where did it go?” you yelp, tears forming in your eyes.

rin deadpans for a second. “fuck if i know!”

as a last resort, you and rin clutch onto each other as if it were life or death as you both continue to cry out in terror. you close your eyes as an attempt to repent for everything that led up to this situation. it was as if the universe was giving you a taste of your own medicine from your wrongdoings. 

when you thought all hope was lost, a knock comes to your door. somehow, you manage to yell out a come in. low and behold, bachira opens the door.

“hey guys! have you seen bartholomew?” he notices the position the two of you are in and raises an eyebrow.

you point continuously at the floor which he follows finding the spider and picking it up. “oh nice! thanks for finding him guys!” he shuts the door and all is well. peace is finally restored. 

silence fills the dorm as the two of you let out a shared sigh of relief, finally free from the shackles of the  creature. making eye contact with rin and eyes widening at the fact that you two are way too close for comfort. you shove him off you as he does the same. you begin to start bursting in laughter about the situation. 

“never mention this. what happened in this room stays in this room.” rin glares, making his way to the door. “im going to take a shower, a long one.”

you mimic a zipper on your mouth as a response. 

navigation ::

she's the man!

next -> 013.

previous <- 011.

tag list :: @x3nafix @sugacor3 @yanderebluelockfan @lucid1tty @x-vivi-v @shydefendorcoffee @kaz-0e @sellomaybe @ovrthe-moon @nensi @90s-belladonna @chuurinnie @suksatoru @vampireg1rl @renchai @yxcntruu @yoimyas @meekydeeks @vextyyx @misscandygirl122 @iluvsuga14 @luvynii @dontmindtheevie @nevvynev @sfwrin @rreporterbby @kyutiipie @sapph1r3x @r1o0nly @noobgod1269 @koneko-dreams @bffrrufr @chiefinvestigatoremma @kaikaidenkai @ak4rishi @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @reekapeeka

[cryptid-killjoy]

"I don't know. I get lazy on my haircuts sometimes. I'm not sure my curls would do well with a cabby's hat. I'll have to try it out." He laughed.

Were Flotsam and Clopin good friends? "Oh, fuck yeah. The best. He wouldn't be Uncle Clopin if not. Pretty sure my dad was just a busker's fan boy hiding in the tree with stars in his eyes till they finally met." He smirked just picturing it. Dale aired it on the real.

When GoGo had the gull to say money couldn't buy common sense Dale's smile grew and his body didn't just lean in, his heart did. This wasn't a boy that got to open up much so to feel anyone on his side after how hard he fought as a teenager when shit began to hit the fan to watch his own mother not choose him, always wondering what was wrong with him, why he wasn't good enough, not that he'd admit that to a soul, it just felt... good.

"You're telling me. Right? Finally." Then he leaned in real close and told a family secret. It wasn't even his secret to tell, but that's how much Dale was moved by the feeling of connection to another person at all. "She cried diamonds. She was a crybaby about everything. Well, Chip can do it. Cry diamonds. But Chip doesn't cry. It takes a lot to get Chip to cry." It might not have been his to tell, but how he ended it was the most Dale offer ever. "And just for saying what you did, if you ever really get hard up, just let me know, I'll pin him down and pluck his nose hairs. I'll get those eyes watering diamonds to pawn just for you."

Only Dale.

When GoGo belched Dale took that as cue to belch one out on purpose only to try to make his a little louder and then say his own score out loud. "Eh maybe 7. I'll do better next round. Back to the tour."

Also, only Dale. Dale's way of not letting a lady feel weird about the belch as they stared at the playground where the Renault house used to be surrounded by such a ritzy neighborhood. She said she couldn't imagine it. "Yeah well, it was a big ass fancy place with a pool. Gated shit."

He did not look ashamed at all when he was called out as the panty thief. "Because you are correct. Sue me. The panty jail is overcrowded. The most I'll get is probation." He teased.

He kept watching GoGo laugh and he wasn't sure he'd seen her laugh and smile so much. He wasn't even quite sure she could. He liked it.

She asked him if he kicked ass. "Oh puleeze. What do you think? People really need to learn starting shit with this family ends up fatal. People never get the best of us. If they ever win a battle, they only start a war."

He leaned his head back mocking it all. Dale, like most his family did not seek power. He only wanted to be left in alone.

"Look at this Feral city stricken off the US map." He laughed alcohol filled bigger picture eyes all wide quite proud. "Our friends did that. Our circle. Look at Pipes and the Utopia that is that entire country now. An entire country and city of fuck this world's rules. My family's people did that." He poked at GoGo's arm. "Have you ever considered how completely awesome you are that we love you? I mean really. You're so fucking cool."

Yup, Dale was indeed that I love you drunk.

Unless he was angry.

It was Halloween. He was home. He had no reason to be angry. He was happy.

"Oh, you want to come back for a Funkytown party? Then we're putting it on the list. It's happening. We're gonna check it off. I'm taking ya. Hap-pen-nen. It's in stone now."

He thought about her words. "You know what? It was. I didn't get then because it's just where we were. I didn't know any different to know. But it was. It was a cool place, GoGo. It was. I was fucking lucky. Minus the skeeters of course."

She didn't say much when he spoke of Megabyte but it was in her eyes. If anyone understood it was her and he hadn't even realized all this time how alike they really were. He took the taki with a nod of thanks and even though no words were exchanged it felt like a lot more was traded between them, and it felt safe to leave it there with her.

With a jacked-up laptop in tow and emotions shoved back down where Dale likes to keep them the tour moved along.

Of course, Skull Rock. "Yeah, we mean it when we call Willem a pirate."

As for Christmasland and capitalism, "That's why it's well hidden in the depths of this swamp. If you knew this swamp, you'd know why tourists don't have a tendency to find it. I'll tell you what. If we ever get a chance to come here at Christmas time, I'll prove it to you. But it's one of those all nighter hikes. You'll also find out once you're in, you get hijacked by so much merriment it'll make you puke and even capitalists can't escape without jingle bells on their toes and a candy cane in their hand not knowing how they even got back home. You fall asleep there you might just end up in your bed back home. It's fucked up. Like Christmas morning dream magic. It's so weird. It's like the place decides if you get to stay." He shook his head just remembering the wacked upness.

"Oh yeah. I imagine there's still zombies out here. I mean, our family used to release them in the wilds. We used to keep a population count. That was just us. Who knew what other witches were doing. Plus, have zombie releases, like hunting parties for fun. Counts could have been off. Sometimes we'd just end because we were partying it up. There's bound to have been some strays. But, after what happened to the city they've probably migrated over time even if there weren't a lot of people in the swamps to begin with."

As for the change of clean clothes. "Eh, don't worry about it. I'm a swamp boy. I'll live."

The compliments. He couldn't quite tell if she was bothered by them nor was sure he cared. He was telling the truth.

But how much had he had to drink?

"Not enough yet."

He took another swig.

"Doesn't mean it's not true, GoGo. Don't be shy about compliments. You deserve 'em."

He looked down at his Ken doll crop top and laughed.

"Hopefully that doesn't mean I look like someone who really would challenge someone to a beach off. But, cool. Now you've done it. I'll remember that for later. I'll keep up the crop top trend... for your parents." He winked.

There was something fun about that day despite it being super sad.

What else was super sad was the next scattered remains of his actual life. Piper burned down their homestead, but what still remained was random stick dolls or other Blair Witch looking symbols hanging from tree branches the closer they got to the property to scare tourists off. Dale could remember all the actual protection spells on their home only for a family member to destroy it from the inside. He wasn't even mad. It just stirred feelings.

"Woah, woah, woah. Here we are. There. Park.... wherever."

At this point it was pointless to tell her where to pull up. Nearly everything had been burned down by Piper's Hellfire. The fact it was put out was a miracle. It'd been a couple years, and the land had started to heal itself.

Dale opened his car door and take a look around despite GoGo's early concerns of zombies. He still had Chip's gun from earlier, but for now he left it in the car. He was scanning the area visually. It was huge with no house on it. They'd always had such a huge yard anyway. Plus, the yard was right against the river. It was a gorgeous open landscape now. The entire home's remains were buried like a sinkhole underground. The open image so clean and healthy left Dale breathless. He started to point.

"Bunny run. There. Picture it. House. There. Dad's houseboat was always docked there. Pontoon. There." He'd cover his mouth in between each new direction in awe of the nothingness. "Paintball course. All the haystacks. There. Garden. There. That's where we kept all our atv's and off roads. We had a mini-shop to be our own garage in there."

"Oh! It's a few miles out." He spun around. "In that direction. Best mudding run in four county swamps. I swear. We know a dry patch for motorcross too. Hill hopping was Chip's go to. He was a pro. I'll tell you another secret. When we pair up as a team my metal skills help hold a car together that might not otherwise. But I only cheat when people are assholes to me. Plus, it's not always cheating when riding against other magic users. You never know what game they've got up their sleeve. No holds barred derbies are funny. People hexing the fuck outta people."

Then he saw something he didn't have to imagine. "Oh, my fuck. Look up there. Look. Look." He started jogging through the woods. "Is that. It is. Oh God. It is. I thought the fire got everything. Look."

There up high in a tree was one of the platforms he and his brother built. These were seriously tall trees, not your average backyard tree from a suburb.

"It's the Ewok Village. Well, part of it. Oh, look another one. A hut one." He pointed in another direction. Nothing could have wiped the smile off his face then. "The zip line is gone. We used to have them running from tree to tree. We'd walk across them, had ropes, and rope ladders, or just climbed depending on the tree." Then he gave the tree a good look.

"I'm gonna try it."

He was grinning big.

"You wanna?"

He was pointing up.

The guy was having trouble sitting down in a car, got drunk, and now thought he was going to climb a giant tree. Yup, that was so Dale.

“Sounds American enough for me,” Go-Go said. They might as well just loot the store, so she picked up some snacks that she hadn’t seen before yo go along with the alcohol. Poptarts. Hot Chili Takis. Peanut Butter cups. Jelly Bellies. It was Halloween, so bring on the candy rush.

And then onwards to the lengthy tour.

Even with the expensive alcohol burning through her stomach, she was a damn good driver, and took every turn that Dale advised her too, all without crashing onto the sidewalk or into lightposts and fire hydrants. They didn’t have to worry about the average person walking back, Valerie and Thomas had already made their way to the inn, and there were no other walkers.

The classics were cool enough, even if history wasn’t really her thing. “I could see you running one of those tourbuses,” She chuckled up at Dale. “With the microphone, making cheesy jokes to all of the tourists. You would be fantastic.”

She knew who most of the people that he talked about were. Clopin, obviously, they had met a couple of times, not the least of all she had seen him and his husband tonight, having a good time at the Ball. She tried to picture him as a younger man, which was pretty amusing. She could only do so with clown makeup. “They must be pretty close friends then,” She said, about Flotsam bringing up that tree everytime they would have passed it by.

She was snacking now, mixing the spicy with the sweet. Half-melted peanut butter cups with the takis stuffed in them. It was a feast for the eyes, for the ears, and now for the tongue.

“A magic school … full of teenagers … next to a super dangerous forest,” GoGo said dryly. She didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that it was going to go all wrong from the beginning. She didn’t mean to trash on his birth mom but she couldn’t help saying - “Really don’t think she was smart enough to open a school in the first place. Money can’t buy common sense, evidently.”

The construction was forever going to be unfinished. The person who had been working on it, meticulously building it back up, was long dead. Somewhere out there wandering, most likely. Forever searching for his toddler daughter. Tragic. Moving on.

She wasn’t used to these kind of compliments yet. She was growing adjusted to them, since the Laveaus could be complimentary people if they liked you. Especially Scout. But that coming from Dale, plus the snacks, plus the liquor.

She let out a belch as the bubbles from the alcohol seemed to come back up, and then giggled at herself. “Yeah, I’m glad you guys became kiwis too.”

They went into the fancy neighborhood. There was a playground now, at the place where Dale was pointing. The place that had once been the Renault house until Boogie destroyed it. “I always forget that those two were a thing,” She laughed, looking out the window, tilting her head slightly. “I really can’t imagine it.”

When they met, Chip had multiple wives. And Maddy was at the very least engaged to Bastien, and they were married shortly after the Laveaus moved to New Zealand. Anything else just seemed - odd.

“Why do I feel like it was you being the panty-stealer and not your brother?”

They kept on driving and stopping but Go-Go really didn’t mind. They had all night. And all day. “You kicked his ass, didn’t you?” She said about the guy that was running his mouth. That seemed a very Dale-like thing to do.

Funkytown was lit and looked like it was jumping, even if Figaro and Willem weren’t there quite yet. Door clown was dancing in the doorway, his hat just being seen through the window in the front door. Small figures were silhouettes through thin curtains. There was even a thump that could be heard from the outside (Diana’s leg had fallen off again and she took a tumble down the stairs, though she was alright as always). “Well shit, I hope we get to come back for a Funkytown party.”

She’d take occasional swigs of the liquor despite driving. Without any other cars on the roads, or pedestrians, there wasn’t as much worry. The alcohol seemed to help expand her mind during all of these stories, taking in what was behind and between the words. Getting to know Dale in a new light. Hell, they had even lived together and she didn’t know him that well. This was the most that they had talked, at least since her father kicked her out.

They really were going everywhere, from downtown to rich-ville to the trailerpark. This place had a lot of history, though Go-Go was only getting bits and pieces of it right now. She parked the car in front of the trailer that Dale was indicating, the headlights bringing light onto it. It looked abandoned. It looked … rough.

“Yeah,” She nodded, knowing that feeling all too well of losing a best friend. Fuck, she knew it well, as Dale had found out earlier. “I’m sure we would have got on.”

She held out another peanut-butter taki creation and the expensive bottle of alcohol, not saying anything.

“So you just make it your mission to be everyone’s big brother, huh?” She asked after a moment, remembering Babyface and Ellie, the two youngest at the Ball apart from when Frankie was brought up.

She stopped when he suddenly called out the wait, and climbed out through the open window, sitting on the door and leaning over the hood of the car, watching as he ran in and took a bunch of electronics. Even she was eyeing some of the stuff when he brought it back. “Damn, that’s a jacked-up laptop.”

In a good way, of course.

But then back to the roads, passing through places that … looked like a dream. Especially Sherwood forest. With it not being lit up, it looked like something out a horror movie that Figaro would love. Deserted. The joust was over.

“You’re lucky,” She spoke, after Dale was reminiscing about what one could do in the city in the span of a single day. “To have grown up somewhere so cool.”

Down the even shadier road, the trees not being tended to and growing out of control, limbs going out onto the road, making their branches hit the windshield. Nothing cracked it yet, but who could tell what would happen later down the line. There was a feeling of excitement growing inside of her to see the ruins of the old Laveau house, which she had heard so much about. It was like a little kid catching the first glimpse of a ferris wheel or a roller coaster on the way to an amusement park. So closer, just a little further.

“Of course there’s a Skull Rock, why am I not surprised.”

“I don’t know whether to believe you or not,” She teased. A door to another world just seemed … so crazy. So unlikely. And something that someone would definitely snatch up and use to make money or something like that. Build a resort in Christmasland. Capitalism as its finest. “Let me guess, Santa lives in there?”

The smell grew heavier the more they went. A heady, green smell that made her feel a little bit dizzy, though that could have been the alcohol too. She was driving slower, with the swamps all around. It looked and felt as if the car could get stuck and go down into the murky depths at any second. “You said there’s zombies around here, in these woods, right?” She asked, rolling up her window for the time being.

“Oh shit, yeah, probably,” She said, taking in Dale’s outfit again. It had been funny in the first place but now there was grass stains on the pink shirt from when he had crashed into the ground. Dirt stains too, on his knees and other parts of his body. Not to mention that half of him looked like a giant bruise, partly her doing. “I’d offer ya something but - it’s not my car so there’s no sweater in the back.”

She turned her head to look at him with an eyebrow raised, and then laughed, shaking her head, looking back to the trail. It was dark out here, despite the slowly raising sun. They couldn’t see beyond the headlights. More compliments. “Right, and you’ve had how much to drink tonight?”

“My parents hate everything, to be fair,” She cracked up, thinking of what their faces would look like if they could see her right now. “Almost wish I was talking to them again, just so I could tell them about this. Alone, with you, in our costumes, in a stolen car, in an abandoned city halfway across the world, going down what seems like the darkest fuckin’ path known to man.”

They’d probably try to exorcise her or something. Slap her with reeds because she didn’t know discipline. Lock her in her room for forty days and forty nights until she came to her senses or some such shit.

“You’re not too bad yourself, crop tops suit you, actually.”

[binisbun]

zb1 nsfw links

contains (in order of each member): recording, rough sex, spanking, begging, (jiwoong), subspace, sensory deprivation, kinda bratty(?) (hao), lovemaking (hanbin), riding, strength kink (matthew), throat training (taerae), use of a leash, fingering (ricky), exhibitionism, use of a vibrator (gyuvin), riding, accidental creampie (gunwook)

it’s rare for jiwoong to get rough with you but when he does, he loves hearing you beg for more and spanking your ass bright red. he swears looking at the video later and watching your eyes roll back could instantly get him hard all over again.

hao feels the best when you put him back in his place after a long day of schedules. blindfolding him and jerking him off while he sucks and pinches your nipples to feel nice and relaxed. he always knows when he’s been a good boy bc you give him kisses !!

intimacy is very important to hanbin. he cherishes the time that you two get alone, making love on your shared bed as he looks into your eyes. you crumble under him so beautifully and he wishes he could stay like this forever.

matthew gets an ego boost when you approach him at the club and compliment his massive biceps. he’ll definitely take you back to his apartment after the club shuts and use his strength to grip your hips while you bounce your ass on his cock.

the size of taerae’s cock is so hard to fit in your mouth since it’s so thick. he uses his hand to make a makeshift ponytail while he fucks your face a little, encouraging you to take more of his cock since he’s so impatient and can’t wait much longer.

ricky loves to discipline you when you’ve been a bad girl. pulling hard on your leash while he fingerfucks your pretty pussy relentlessly. the pitch of your moans always gets higher when he pulls and that only makes his cock harder, straining in his pants.

you never thought gyuvin would be such a slut but he’s such an obedient boy for you, sending videos of him using a vibe whenever you ask. the thought of being caught at work turns him on so much that his cock is endlessly leaking cum :(

gunwook panics at the sight of you taking off the condom while you’re on top of him, scared of the initial thought of knocking you up. however, the thought of filling you up turns him on so much, cumming a lot earlier than he expected to.

cee’s taglist -> @kunkunlele

divider creds: cafekitsune :3