#anon please feel free to prompt me like whenever

[tinyluvs]

ask; anon - reader who always does her daughter’s hair with cute hairstyles & rafe asking her to teach him how to do it too authors note; omg yes!! so cute!! tysm for the prompt angel!! please send any ideas or prompts you have here !!.₊˚⊹♡.⋆˚｡⋆୨୧ warnings; none !! pairing; rafe x fem!reader wc; 2.1k ♡

music plays softly in your bedroom, you hum along vaguely to the words while rummaging through a drawer in the bathroom, in search of a small hair brush, your daughters one specifically. “harper!” you call out to her when you find it, smiling when tiny footsteps come your way

your toddler rounds the corner into the bathroom, head tilted in a silent question. she’s cute, too cute. a perfect blend of you and her father. rafe has dressed her while you had been getting ready. her little, short dungarees stop just above her knees, paired with a plain pink shirt underneath

“ready to have your hair done baby?” you ask her, holding your hands out. she nods and jumps towards you, allowing you to lift her up and place her onto the counter, her feet in the sink, “what are we feeling today little lady?”

in the mirror you watch tiny cogs turning in her head, trying to figure out what she wants. you gather sections of her hair up, holding them in loose mock styles, changing it whenever she shakes her head at them, “don't know,” she finally admits with a huff, little arms crossing over her chest

“okay, well how about,” you pause to roughly part her hair down the middle, gathering both sections up to the top of her head, “like this? and then i can braid them if you want? i’m sure we can find ribbons for the ends too” you lean forwards, resting your chin on top of her head

she nods her head, her hair tickling your chin, “okie!”

you reach for the comb with the long pointy end, “tilt your head back for me,” you say, fingers gently running through the ends of her hair. you’re about to start properly parting her hair, when rafe appears, leaning against the doorframe

“daddy!” harper shrieks, suddenly not tilting her head backwards anymore as she attempts to twist her little body towards him. he chuckles at her, holding out a hand so she can clap her much smaller one against it

rafe moves from the doorway to stand behind you, arm slinking around your waist, his free hand rubbing circles on your hip, “my favourite ladies,” he says smiling, turning to press a kiss to your temple and then bending to kiss harpers head

“i was trying to do her hair,” you tease lightly, turning to try and poke the end of the comb into his stomach, he lets you, quickly groaning in fake pain, harper snickers at him

“yeah?” he smirks, taking his hand away from your daughters. he moves it atop her head before rubbing back and forth quickly, sending the little girl into a fit of giggles, “there you go, i did it for you” he says, smug

her hair is messed up, not knotted but messy, “daddy! not done!” harper giggles and snatches the brush from the side, attempting to brush her hair but she doesn’t notice that she has it upside down

“why not?” rafe frowns, light and playful, “i think it looks fine,” he concludes, pinching lightly at your waist while you take the hairbrush away from harper

“piggies!” harper giggles, her voice echoing around the bathroom while rafe sends you a look in the mirror, eyebrow slightly raised, “mommy! piggies!”

gently, you start to brush her hair, “the hairstyle we decided on is called pigtails,” you chuckle as rafe nods his head, finally understanding what your daughter was shrieking about. she watches you both in the mirror, raising her shoulders when you snag a knot, “sorry baby,”

once her hair is all brushed out again you place your fingers lightly under her chin, tilting her head back for her, “anything you wanted?” you mumble around the comb between your lips, eyeing rafe lingering behind you in the mirror

he seems to think for a second before replying, “teach me,” he says simply, stepping forwards to take the comb from your mouth, you shoot him a look over your shoulder, head tilted slightly, “teach me how to do her hair, her pigs or whatever they’re called”

“piggies!” harper supplies making you both chuckle. she quickly gets distracted by a bottle of face wash behind the sink, leaning forwards slightly to grab at it with tiny hands

“you really want to learn?” you ask rafe in the mirror while blindly searching in the drawer in front of you for some child size hair ties. you find four, holding them up to confirm they’re all the same colour, they are.

rafe squeezes at your waist before his hands slip from your body, “yeah, teach me” he says again, snatching the hair bands from your hand, slipping them onto his fingers, “you always do her hair so nicely, i wanna see how you do it,” he shrugs slightly

your cheeks flush slightly at his comment but before you can say anything harper twists, looking at you and rafe, “daddy piggies?”

she giggles as rafe wiggles his fingers at her, a small hair tie around each one, like rings, “yeah princess,” he chuckles, kissing the top of her head again before turning to you, “what do i do first?”

stepping to the side, to allow rafe to take your spot, you point at the comb in his hand, “use that to part her hair straight down the middle,” you explain

“sounds easy enough,” rafe hums, bringing the comb to harpers head. you watch as he attempts it, drawing a line down the centre of her head with the blunt end, “like this?” he asks looking at you in the mirror

it’s not a bad attempt, only ever so slightly wonky down the back of her head, “yeah! exactly like that, just straighten the back up,” you pause, guiding his hand with the comb in it, back to her head, “like this”

once her parting is as straight as rafe is able to get it, he looks to you again, “i did it, now wha-”

“did it!” harper repeats, leaning back against rafes chest, tilting her head back so she can look up at him

both of you chuckle at her, “good job!” you praise, clapping your hands, she copies, bringing her hands together quickly, “do you remember the next step?” you ask her

she hums for a second, tapping her finger off her chin while she thinks, something rafe taught her to do. “tie!”

“that’s right!” you laugh, “daddy has to tie it up, one on each side of the part,” you explain for rafe’s sake mostly, gesturing to the general area where he has to do it

he nods his head, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. he tries, he really does but trying to hold harpers hair, a comb and wrangle the hair ties proves a little hard, “how is it so hard?” he huffs with a pout

“would you like me to do one side first so you can see?” you offer, holding your hand out for the supplies. he nods, dropping the comb and ties into your hand before stepping back enough for you to slot between him and the counter

rafe hooks his chin on your shoulder, peering over so he can see what you’re doing. with one hand you hold the section of hair, using the other to comb a few bumps out before putting it back between your teeth

“so, to tie it,” you speak, voice muffled ever so slightly, “hold her hair with this hand,” you pause to demonstrate, “hair tie like this,” you show him the tie stretched around your fingers, “and then tie,” you do the motions slower than you normally would, letting rafe watch

harper giggles, “funny!” she says it slightly mumbled and muffled, copying the way you were speaking around the comb

“you’re right, mommy is funny,” rafe agrees with the toddler while gently bumping his hip against yours, moving you out of the way, “other side now, princess”

slowly, he copies the steps, repeating the words you said under his breath. he fumbles with the comb only slightly but before you know it he’s got it. “yay daddy!” harper cheers when he finishes, gently twirling her hair around his finger

rafe bows, over exaggerated, taking in the praise from his daughter who claps at him, little hands raising into the air. “hey, don’t celebrate so early, her hair is only half done,” you laugh

harper stops clapping and rafe moves to see what you’re doing, “we can do this bit at the same time,” you nod to the other side of harpers hair, “now, watch,”

gently and slowly you use your fingers to part her hair into three sections, watching as rafe copies you, his tongue pressed between his lips.

“this part looks tricky but it’s not, i promise,”

“promise!” harper giggles your last word, her r sound morphing more into a w kind of sound by accident

“yeah baby, promise,” you chuckle, enunciating the word a little for her before turning your attention back to her hair, “watch closely”

rafe watches intently as you take the far right piece of hair and cross it over the top of the middle piece, he copies. the piece now in the middle gets tucked under the strand on the left, “then we just repeat that until we get to the end of her hair”

harper starts to wiggle, growing impatient that her hair is taking so long, much longer than it normally does “fast,” she huffs, mixing her words up a little, a little frown on her face

“almost done baby,” you reassure her with a kiss against her temple. rafe does his best to move faster, surprisingly, braiding her hair without making a mistake, “tie it off at the end,”

you hand rafe the last hair tie, letting him watch you do your side before he does his, “we’re all done!” you announce, hands squeezing at harpers shoulders

your toddler stands in the sink, barely turning around before launching her tiny body at her daddy, her little arms winding around his neck, “yay!” she giggles

rafe settles her against his side, an arm underneath her body. he holds a hand out, letting you and harper give him a high five before tucking you under his free arm

for a minute you all just sway, music still playing in your bedroom next door. harpers head drops, slotting against rafe’s neck, big eyes watching you three in the mirror

“oh! ribbon!” you remember, darting out of the room and towards harpers bedroom down the hall. rafe follows behind you, humming to the music and dancing along, bouncing harper on his side until she giggles

once you’re in her room you pull out ribbons, two pink and two purple, holding them up as rafe steps into the doorway, “which colour baby?”

“pink!” she points at the ribbons that match the colour of her top, scrambling from rafe’s arms until he puts her down. she turns, shaking her head slightly so her hair swings around

you and rafe crouch down behind her, taking a ribbon each. you wrap it around the end of her braid, tying it into a neat bow that rafe manages to copy first try

“now we’re done,” rafe says, scooping the toddler up and throwing her up into the air. harper shrieks and giggles, being held up above his head, her legs and arms dangling towards his face

“yes we are, all done,” you repeat, snaking your arms around rafe’s sides. you rest your chin between his shoulder blades, pressing a kiss there “you did well,”

harper gasps, “down, daddy, down!” she orders, taking off across the room the second her feet touch the ground. rafe turns in your arms, standing so you’re pressed against his side instead of his back

“what’s she doing?” he whispers, sneaking a kiss to the corner of your mouth while watching the small girl look for something on her little nightstand. you shrug, eyes following as harper makes her way back towards you

in her tiny hands she holds tiny little pastel clips in the shapes of butterflies, “daddy’s hair!” she exclaims, looking up at both of you. you stifle a laugh, watching as rafe kneels down, tilting his head down so she can reach his hair

she clips them in haphazardly, anywhere they’ll snag into his fluffy hair is where they stay until she has none left in her hands. “pretty daddy,” she giggles, stepping back to admire her handiwork

rafe stands and turns to face you. this time both of you attempt to stifle a laugh, “yes,” you agree with a nod and a giggle, “the prettiest daddy ever”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! & comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah! send prompts to my ask box!

[stllmnstr]

something old, something new

hello have a 2.3k drabble about Heeseung still having feelings for his ex heavily inspired by the above behind the scenes no doubt mv pics and based on this anon prompt sent to me:

this was supposed to be short but I got carried away and ended up writing 2.3k on my PHONE in an hour so please excuse any typos 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung loves weddings.

When he admits this to people, which is in and of itself a fairly rare occasion, they assume it’s for all of the usual reasons.

The open bar, the well curated playlist, the free food... After all, those are the typical things men in their mid twenties tend to enjoy. And Heeseung always nods along. Forces a laugh whenever his conversation partner cracks another age old joke about getting a little too tipsy on the dance floor.

Besides, it’s not like he’s immune to baser pleasures. At twenty-five, Heeseung does genuinely enjoy eating well and getting drunk on someone else’s dime.

But if he digs a little deeper, is a little more honest with himself, the real reason he loves weddings so much is the romance of it all.

A white dress thats been agonized over and alternated to perfection. A cake thats been taste-tested and intentionally designed with the lucky couple in mind. A venue that likely cost an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it, because it’s the place where two people get to display the love they have for each other in front of everyone that’s important in their lives.

And Jay, he thinks, has outdone them all. The ballroom Heeseung steps into with perfectly shined shoes is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Crystal chandeliers bathe the high ceilinged room in soft, warm light that almost glows like candles at dusk.

The aisle separates two generously sized sections of seating from one another. Each table is laid with a crease less cream colored tablecloth and a bouquet of flowers that Heeseung doesn’t want to guess the price of. It’s stunning. It’s perfect.

And Jay, Heeseung’s best friend of thirteen years, deserves nothing less.

Jake seems to agree. Coming to stand next to Heeseung, he jerks his chin towards the door that leads to the neighboring room. “I just heard from a very trustworthy source that the open bar starts at 1 pm sharp,” he grins.

Heeseung has a sneaking suspicious that this trustworthy source is Sunghoon, which means it’s likely to be incorrect. Besides, booze isn’t what he’s here for.

“Hopefully not,” Heeseung nudges Jake’s shoulder, “since no one wants to watch you stumble down the aisle.”

“At least I’m just a groomsman.” Jake shrugs. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Best Man, have to be on your best behavior. Besides, I can handle my alcohol.”

Heeseung’s lips flatten. “I have several videos that prove otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waves his palm. “I’ll be good. I promise. No shots until after the ceremony.”

Heeseung just rolls his eyes. His younger friend might be a little more lax when it comes to conducting himself in public, but Heeseung isn’t actually worried. This is Jay’s wedding, after all. And no matter how much Jake and Sunghoon enjoy a good party, they also know how to take things seriously when it matters.

For a moment, Jake just looks around the room, taking it in like Heeseung had a few minutes prior. Similar actions, different conclusions. Jake doesn’t comment on the lighting or the tablecloths or even the romance. Instead, he says, “I can’t believe Jay’s actually getting married.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first in their friend group to officially leave bachelor-hood, and it does feel a bit strange to bear witness to. “Me neither.”

Jake is still shaking his head. “And he’s the first one out of all of us. That’s almost weirder. You know, we always thought it would be –”

Remembering himself, Jake lets the sentiment die on his lips.

It doesn’t matter, though. Heeseung already knows what he was going to say.

We always thought it would be you.

Four long years ago, at twenty-one, Heeseung had felt far too young for marriage. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what you’d look like in a white dress. What flavor of wedding cake the two of you would select from the box of samples. What overpriced venue you would decide to officially intertwine your lives in.

It didn’t stop him from tucking away a small, velvet box in the back of his drawer for safekeeping. From fantasizing about kneeling in front of you and finally sliding a gorgeous, sparking ring right where he wanted it to belong.

It didn’t stop him from making promises and plans. Adjustments to his life just to make sure there was always space for you.

But one year later, the box and the ring inside were still tucked away. And the love Heeseung kept safe suddenly had no place to go.

He told his friends it was mutual, that you’d made the decision together. But Heeseung never wanted to let go. Even if a job opportunity meant you had to move across the country. Even if it made no logical sense for him to follow when he was still finishing his degree.

It was circumstances, he explained to his friends, to his family. Not anything either of you did wrong.

But alone, surrounded by the four walls of his bedroom and the overwhelming clamor of his own thoughts, Heeseung just cried. Sobbed. The kind of tears that left him gasping for air and with a throb behind his temple.

Because he knew that he never would have done that to you. He would have turned down the job, would have found a way to make long distance work, would have transferred to another university to be close to you even if it wasn’t logical.

He would have done it, the big romantic gesture that gives the rom-com a happy ending and signals to the production team that it’s time to roll the credits.

But you didn’t. When he suggested long distance, you just sighed. And there were tears in your eyes too, but there was no fight.

So Heeseung, despite every bone in his body screaming at him not to, let you go.

And now, three years later, he’s about to watch his best friend get married and pretend it doesn’t sting. He’s happy for Jay. He is. But the selfish parts of him will always wish he was the one waiting at the end of the aisle instead. For you.

The universe has never made a habit of bending to his desires, though, and he fulfills his role as best man well. The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and Jake is appropriately steady-footed in his role as a groomsman.

The white dress is gorgeous. The cake is delicious. The venue is perfect. Whatever romance is, Jay and his fiancée — no, his wife — have captured it well.

Despite his earlier words, Heeseung makes a home for himself at the aforementioned open bar the second the ceremony is over. Knocking back another swig of whiskey, he appreciates the slight burn. At least it’s in his throat this time, instead of his heart. And at least it’s induced by alcohol instead of misplaced jealousy.

But he must have had one too many drinks, because for a fleeting moment, he swears that the late arrival that makes a hesitant entrance into the reception room is—

No.

There’s no way.

You only knew Jay because you knew Heeseung, and those flowers withered three long years ago. You have no reason to be here now.

But then he hears it, and oh the lurch in his heart hurts just as bad as it did the first time. Because despite the improbability of it all, that’s your voice that floats above the music and exchanged pleasantries with another guest. Even after all the time that’s passed, Heeseung would know it anywhere. Could pick it out of any crowd.

He turns to you slowly, as if he can delay the inevitable just a little longer. As soon as his eyes land on you, he realizes his mistake. He shouldn’t have looked at you at all, should have just slid off the bar stool and ran in the other direction because it still hurts.

You’re three years older, and the time has been good to you. The evening dress you wear hangs from your body in a way that only reminds him of what you look like beneath it, of the way running his hands and his lips and his love over the skin you conceal used to feel like second nature. The way you used to play with his hair with his head in your lap, trading small moments of intimacy after a long day.

It hurts. It aches and it stings and it burns.

He has to get out of here. He has to leave. Now.

Not caring if he’s making a scene, Heeseung stands from the barstool. The only reason he tries to be somewhat discreet is to avoid the heat of your gaze.

All the way to the door on the opposite side of the room, he doesn’t turn back. Not once. On the other side of the door, he lets his body go limp against the solid surface beneath his spine, just for a moment. He exhales a long held breath.

But the air is still stifling, even as he loosens the tie at his neck. Straightening back to his full height, he turns down a short hallway until he arrives at the small outdoor balcony he noticed earlier.

The air outside is cold, at least. Fresh.

On the horizon, the sun spends its last few moments of the day painting the sky in gorgeous, golden hues. Heeseung squints, but he doesn’t look away. Hands wrapped around the bannister that lines the balcony, he sags into himself.

Shoulders hunched, he forces a long inhale into his lungs. And then he releases it. His breath is a pattern he can cling to, something steady that tethers him back to reality. Something to focus on that isn’t the war in his mind.

But peacetime is only an illusion. After a handful of quiet minutes, he hears the door open behind him.

“Oh,” you startle. He knows it’s you, even from just one syllable. “Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was out here already. I’ll just…” Your words trail off into silence, but Heeseung doesn’t hear retreating footsteps, doesn’t hear the door close again. After another stilted moment, what he hears is, “Heeseung?”

Your voice is small. As if you can apologize just by being gentle. As if he’s a wounded animal you don’t want to startle.

And Heeseung, despite himself, does feel a bit like a kitten left out in the rain when he finds it in himself to turn and face you.

The only word he says is your name. His tone is steady, even. More so than he thought he was capable of. But he’s looking at you now too, and his eyes have never been good at hiding secrets.

“I…” You trail off again. You’re at a loss too. “How are you?”

“Don’t do that,” Heeseung shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you retreat immediately. But Heeseung remembers when you used to argue, when you used to fight back. When you valued the strength of your relationship over his wounded pride.

“Don’t be,” Heeseung shakes his head again. “You made your choice, so stick to it. You don’t get to…” He screws his eyes shut for a moment, fist clenching at his side. Opening his eyes again, he matches your gaze. “You don’t get to leave me and then apologize for it.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t miss a beat. “I meant for intruding,” you tell him. “I was apologizing for disturbing you.”

But you remember how he used to love making space for you in his life. How his plans were your plans and his time alone on a balcony would only be made better if you were there, too.

And you still remember the day you were inspired by a strong bout of spring fever, how you dedicated an entire afternoon to deep cleaning.

You still remember the small, velvet box you found.

You didn’t open it, but you didn’t have to. The small, nondescript container scared you enough. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Heeseung. You already had Pinterest boards full of white dresses and three-tier cakes and stunning venues. Suits that you thought would bring out his best features.

But you’d also just gotten the news of your promotion. Across the country. You didn’t know how to tell him, and you had less of an idea how to leave him.

But you knew you had to. He would follow you, if you let him. You were sure of it. But he was enrolled in the best university for his program, and you watched him fight tooth and nail to earn his spot there.

Heeseung was a bright light, a beacon of good things, and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like his commitment to you was something that only weighed him down.

He was an adult, too. A young one, yes, but a full, grown person all the same. Perfectly capable of making his own decisions, but you took that from him anyway.

And now, three years later, you can still read him like an open book. There’s hurt in his gaze, pain that lingers even now. There’s resentment, too, and you can’t blame him for it.

I still love you, you want to tell him. Because it’s true. Because you do. Because you can see it in his eyes, too.

But you’ve always been better at holding your tongue than him.

Instead, you turn on your heel, planning to exit the way you came.

Fingers around the door handle, the sound of your name stops you.

It sounds like he’s begging, like he’s pleading, and you can’t bear to turn and see the results of your devastation as surely as you hear them.

Instead, you remain motionless. You squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can.

And then, so faintly it’s almost lost to the wind, he says, “Stay. Please.”

.....

thanks for reading! send me a drabble prompt here if you'd like!

[ghostgirl-22]

Art deciding he wants to prove he can do more than just hit a ball with a stick so he decides to go to online medical school and hes practicing on patrick, doing all the routine ones,touching each other all over, soft spoken and intimate, putting sticks on their tongue like a slow burn leading up til he has to do a prostate exam, theyre practicing everything on each other. Art cant find pats prostate and he helps him, its all very awkward and sweet, after patrick says he can show art where to find it as he has more experience with men, so he gets art on his back

"This isnt even the correct position patrick" "do you want help or not? Im just showing you where it is"

Theyre so gentle with each other and patrick gently slides his fingers inside art, curling up into his prostate "you see there, you feel that?"

I thank you anon for this prompt. Sorry it took me so long. I took tons of liberties. Rearranged it in my head a lot. Also didn’t proofread much at all. Also it probably gets too into the weeds on the medical office stuff but we have fun 🤗

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

I’m going with Art’s uncle is a urologist and Patrick and Art are staying with him over a college break and he hires both Art and Patrick as “medical assistants” to help him with stuff in his office. So they’re messing around all summer, cleaning the exam rooms in between patients, scheduling appointments. Art is vaguely interested in studying medicine, Patrick is mostly bored by all of it except when they’re messing around with the office tools and Art’s pretending to do exams on Patrick whenever they get a free minute.

It’s oddly erotic. Patrick’s sitting on the exam table swinging his feet while Art tells him to open his mouth, wide, wider. Art’s standing too close, pushing the tongue depressor onto Patrick’s tongue, light shining in Patrick’s mouth. “Can you open wider?” Art whines anxiously, “I think I see something.”

Patrick opens as wide as he can. Art is so close, lips parted, eyes shiny, looking deep into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick squeezes his hands between his thighs. Getting hard for this is so ridiculously and pathetically down bad.

Art pulls the tongue depressor out. “I think you have strep throat,” He says, grinning.

“That’s the third time this week,” Patrick smirks.

Art puts the tongue depressor in his own mouth and starts chewing on it. He does stuff like that all the time. Putting stuff in his mouth after it’s already been in Patrick’s. It makes Patrick crazy. Art rubs Patrick’s knee idly and then picks up the reflex hammer. “Don’t kick me,” he says.

“Don’t hit me then,” Patrick says.

Art ignores him and swings the hammer at Patrick’s knee anyway just to watch him reflexively twitch. “Okay I guess you’re alive,” Art says.

“Is that your final diagnosis?” Patrick pulls at the tongue depressor and Art opens his mouth to let Patrick take it.

Art looks around for the stethoscope. “Better check your heart, just to be sure.”

Art’s uncle takes Art’s med school aspirations much more seriously than Patrick does. “You boys want to sit in on my next patient?” He asks, interrupting them.

“Yes please!” Art says excitedly.

Patrick doesn’t love watching Art’s uncle give prostate exams to a bunch of vaguely homophobic geriatric men but it does help break up the day. The next patient is relatively young though. He looks like he’s not even 40 years old and he’s actually kind of really hot. Patrick’s curious about why someone so young (and hot) would need to see a doctor like this.

“This is my nephew and his friend, he’s premed at Stanford. Do you mind having them sit in?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Yeah, sure,” the guy shrugs and smiles at them, like he could care less. Art’s uncle shuts the door of the exam room and starts asking him questions, and the guy is talking about how he’s afraid his prostate is swollen because of how he’s felt. “I was actually having sex with my boyfriend and he started to get worried because of how large it felt.” The guys says.

Art and Patrick exchange glances. Patrick doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way people will just blurt all their personal information in here. Art’s uncle doesn’t miss a beat though. “Is it painful?” He asks.

“No that’s the thing doc it feels really good, I end up having so many orgasms, once three times in a row,” the guy says. “But I’m just scared that it’s not normal?”

“Well that is normal, prostate stimulation can feel good and does often lead to ejaculation.” Art’s uncle says clinically, he’s distractedly typing away on the computer. “How about frequency? Have you had to pee a lot?”

”Not any more than normal, no.”

“Alright, well lets get it checked out for you. Take down your pants,” Art’s uncle says professionally. Patrick presses his lips together and looks up at the ceiling as the guy starts to undo his pants. He really is too attractive. Patrick knows now he could never do this job, the idea of a really hot guy walking in and not being able to flirt is just devastating to him.

He chances a glance at Art and he’s just watching the patient undress, a little bit of color in his cheeks. Patrick wonders if it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s aroused. Or both. Knowing him probably both.

Thankfully Art’s uncle is just talking generally about various conditions that usually don’t affect young men as a distraction so it doesn’t feel awkward in the room. The patient bends over the exam table and Patrick considers bolting from the room but he knows that would make him seem even more awkward. He balances on the balls of his feet hoping there’s no way anyone can tell that he’s got a chubby.

“Yep it feels healthy,” Art’s uncle says as the man sort of moans a bit. Patrick swallows.

“I’m sorry doc,” the patient says quickly.

“It’s no problem, happens all the time,” Art’s uncle says, taking his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Yours is just a little large, but seems to be perfectly healthy and functioning normally.”

”So it’s okay to— that it feels so— so good?”

Art’s uncle just laughs. “Yes, enjoy it,” he says with a wink. “And just come back to see me if there’s ever any pain.” He adds as he washes his hands.

“Oh I will, thank you,” The guy says, letting out a sigh of relief.

”Come on boys, let’s let him get dressed,” Art’s Uncle ushers them out of the room. He goes straight to a hallway computer to continue typing notes. His actual medical assistant is triaging another patient.

Art’s chewing on his bottom lip. Patrick’s trying to recover from the whole… thing. He’s not ever thought of prostates outside of old guys and dumb jokes. Never even considered the idea that it feels that good. The hot guy leaves the exam room a moment later and offers them a warm smile. He then goes to the front to take care of his bill.

“Lighten up boys, there’s all kinds of lifestyles, we don’t judge in here” Art’s uncle says, patting them on the shoulders. “Clean up the exam room and then you can take lunch.”

”Uh okay,” Art says.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, distractedly. They go back in the room and Art tears off the wrinkled exam paper from the bed and pulls some fresh paper down.

“You know what’s crazy?” Patrick asks him.

“What?” Art says, crinkling up the old paper and putting it in the trash.

“I don’t even think I know where my prostate is,” Patrick says.

“You don’t?” Art asks, pulling his gloves off and dropping those in the trash can too.

“No but I mean… could you imagine? Like what that guy was saying. Three times in a row. I could jerk off a thousand hours and never… you know…”

Art laughs a little. “Yeah, that’s um… that’s crazy.”

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees. They’re quiet for a minute.

Art takes a breath and then goes to the sink and washes his hands. “Maybe…” he says and then trails off.

”What?” Patrick asks, he picks up the disinfectant cleaner.

“Maybe I could find it for you?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Seriously?”l

“What? I mean— you see how fast my uncle does it? It’s probably easy.”

Patrick laughs.

“Come on, seriously, be my patient,” Art says, determinedly. He pulls on a new pair of gloves. Patrick takes a breath, remembering he’s still mildly aroused but he decides to play along anyway. If Art really wants to be a doctor he’s gonna have to get used to bodies being in all kinds of weird states. That guy had definitely moaned, Patrick hadn’t made that up and he’d definitely almost touched himself because of it.

“Okay Dr. Donaldson,” Patrick says smiling as he starts undoing his slacks. He rubs the outline of his dick idly through his boxers.

Arts chewing on his bottom lip, watching Patrick, his eyes linger on the place where Patrick was rubbing and he shifts on his feet, antsy. “You’re not supposed to be…to be hard,” Art says quietly.

“Sorry, I think that last patient was my type,” Patrick says, smirking and rubbing it one more time just to watch Art squirm.

“That’s so… so beyond fucked up,” Art says, softly.

“Well I didn’t do anything, and whatever just revoke my license then,” Patrick shrugs with a grin.

Art shakes his head, a little smile on his lips. “Be serious okay um—- I think my uncle uses some kinda… this,” Art pumps some liquid out of an industrial container of lubricant. “Okay um… bend over,” he says lightly. But it doesn’t feel light at all. It feels… loaded. Like all the years they’ve spent dancing around a quiet longing are now simmering just below the surface.

Patrick eases his boxers down exposing his ass and he rests his elbows on the exam table. He can hear Art breathing in his ear, this hot feather light sound. He feels the cold, wet of the lubricant and Arts fingers behind the gloves and he shivers. Arts pressing into him. Patrick holds his breath, the intrusion isn’t completely unpleasant. Arts using two fingers, snaking them around.

“Can you feel it?” Art asks, breathlessly.

“I mean, I feel your fingers,” Patrick says, lightly. “Do you feel my prostate?”

“Um…” Arts starts pushing deeper. “Do you know what it feels like?”

“Well no,” Patrick says, “you said you could find it. He’s your uncle. This is your legacy after all.”

“I can find it,” Art says. “But this isn’t my legacy. I want to be a cardiologist.”

“Tomayto, tomahto… oh—wait oh—Art,” Patrick breathes. “What was that—“

“Here?” Art asks, excitedly. And Patrick sees stars for how sensitive it feels.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groans as Art rubs his fingertips along it. Patrick’s dick reacts immediately by filling out.

“I wish I could see it, it feels… different…” Arts voice is pitchy. He won’t stop rubbing it.

“Fuck, fuck… Art. Oh my fuck… take it easy, sweetheart,” Patrick gasps.

Art takes a breath and eases his fingers out.

“Shit,” Patrick whispers. “I didn’t mean you had to stop.”

“Patrick,” Art says quietly.

“What?”

“Please, Patrick, can you find mine?” His gaze is dark, his skin flushed and he looks so needy. And yeah… yeah okay. Patrick would probably give him anything right now.

He licks his lips and nods. He’s so horny he’s not exactly clinical about it, doesn’t even bother with the gloves, just wets his fingers as Art presents himself and presses them deep inside the heat of him. Art is clenching around him immediately. Patrick starts scissoring his fingers back and forth listening to the delicate sound of Art catching his breath.

Patrick searches for what he was feeling when Art was doing it and lands on something smooth. He rubs his fingertips along it gently and slowly Art begins to moan.

“That’s it,” Patrick whispers. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?” He pumps his fingers in and out, sliding them along the smooth muscle.

“Oh my god, ohmygod Patrick,” Art cries. He’s pitched so much higher than usual it makes Patrick’s teeth ache. He takes his free hand and starts stroking himself, all the while playing his fingers along Art’s prostate.

“Mm, my god,” Art sighs a litany, lying across the exam table, moaning and pushing back.

He’s so selfish, Patrick thinks, amused. He saw how good it felt and stopped fucking Patrick two strokes in because he just needed to have it for himself. And Patrick’s stomach hurts because he just loves that about him. That and he’s addicted to the way Art’s voice sounds right now… moaning so much that if the rooms aren’t soundproof… which Patrick is almost certain they aren’t…then they’re entirely fucked.

“Oh… oh Patrick I’m fucking…. Oh no… no. Oh shit,” Art cries and then he’s wetting up the table, ribbons of it spilling everywhere while he’s clenching on Patrick fingers, in deliciously tight spasms. “I did it on—I made a— a mess….” he groans breathlessly. Patrick still has his fingers inside because he’s kinda curious if he can make him come again. Art is just shivering for it.

”Patrick,” he whines.

“Yeah?” Patrick breathes. “Just relax, baby. It’s okay. You’re just making me crazy baby. Wanna fuck you.”

”Fuck,” Art groans.

“God. I really wanna fuck you.” Patrick whispers up against his throat. “I just wanna push my dick in here instead and fuck the shit outta you.”

“Oh fuck,” Art cries out again. More starts spilling out of him and Patrick just thinks, fuck it.

He slides his fingers out and Art is leaning heavy on him, pressed up against him with all his weight… he lets out a startled sound when Patrick presses the head of his dick right up against Art’s entrance.

“Patrick, wait,” Art says, a slight tremor in his voice, Patrick kisses the back of his neck and he settles down almost instantly. Patrick presses just a little more and hears the smallest little intake of breath. There’s barely any give there, his fingers are one thing but his dick is…Patrick has to wait for that. Art is so fucking virgin tight it makes Patrick want to scream. He’s had so many dirty dreams about this.

“God Patrick,” Art says, he sounds scared and turned on at the same time. His voice all airy. “You gonna— you wanna— fuck me s-so bad huh?” He whispers, his voice breaking a bit when Patrick presses in just the tiniest bit more. Patrick lifts his hand and realizes, in a detached way that he’s shivering. He starts jerking himself off. Rough and tight into him, while Art is clenching, virgin tight at the head of his dick. He’s not even inside, not even a little bit and they’re both panting like they’re actually fucking. Patrick finishes embarrassingly fast, spilling all over Art’s bottom as Art whimpers.

“Holy shit,” Patrick breathes.

”Mmhm,” Art sighs, contentedly.

”I think your uncle is gonna kill us.”

“Oh no… fuck,” Art whines, suddenly panicked. “We have to… we shouldn’t have fucking done that.”

Patrick grins, slowly pulling his boxers back up. “It was your idea doc.”

“Yeah but— I said I just wanted you to try and find my prostate not—“ he sighs. “Never mind. Help me clean up.”

They get dressed and clean up the mess they made in the exam room. Art’s still a bit of a mess when they leave. His shirt is all wrinkly and his hair is everywhere. Not to mention the way he’s flushed.

They go to his Uncles office and he’s sitting at his desk eating lunch, he takes in the sight of them, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey uh— so um— funny story— we were cleaning up and—” Art stammers.

His uncle raises a hand interrupting him. “I’m not one to judge,” his uncle says, his eyes crinkling with mild amusement. “But next time at least wait for me to close the office first.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Art says weakly.

“Don’t worry about it. No damage done this time. We had the last patient at least two exam rooms away. Didn’t hear a thing.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Patrick says. “I was so scared everyone could hear him.”

Art glares at him and he shrugs.

“So I’m guessing you found it then?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Uh, found what sir?” Art asks.

He shrugs. “The prostate. That’s what you were looking for, right?”

And Patrick can’t help it. He just starts laughing.

(I ask that y’all forgive any ethics violations against poor Mr.hottie patient. Whose only crime was being hot in front of Artrick with a sexy medical problem. No I don’t generally think medical problems are sexy. I also don’t condone fucking during office hours. Even if your uncle owns the place and you’re not a “real” employee. Especially then. Also now that I’m aware Patrick’s doing the sweetheart thing I’m doubling down 🙂‍↕️)

[philistiniphagottini]

Hiii can I please request number 7 + Blade? I really enjoy the way you write him. Thank you if you end up doing this!

Thank you for the ask Anon. I appreciate you telling me that you enjoy the way I write Blade, he's my current favourite character and I'd love it if people wanted to talk to me more about him. I hope you enjoy. Comments/reblogs greatly appreciated.

cw. light angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, gender neutral reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

7. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

Prompts

Your room smelled of disinfectant and medicinal salves. It clogged your nose when you breathed deep, a pinch forming between your furrowed brow as you slowly and meticulously wrap fresh bandages around Blade’s exposed bicep. You had to discard his jacket, the material slashed and tattered laying in a bloody heap long forgotten on the floor as you gave your undivided attention to Blade. 

He thinks it's a wasted effort but he lets you do as you please. His free hand is resting in your lap, fingers lazily curled into your thigh until the soft skin squished beneath his touch. You feel incredibly warm beneath the tips of his fingers as he stared at you, absentmindedly watching you work patch up his wounds. Wounds that would naturally heal themselves, just another chip on his scarred and haggard body. Your attentiveness wasn’t needed when he was cursed to constantly heal but you always kicked up a fuss whenever he returned to you in a bloody heap, supporting fresh wounds and a tired look in his eyes. 

It was a little awkward for you shuffling around Blade as you worked. You were practically, almost in his lap as you hovered over him on the bed, the sheets already drying with flakes of blood and whatever else Blade had dragged in the door with him. The sheets needed to be changed as soon as you got the chance. The stench of decay and death was particularly strong on him today. It almost made you blanch. The tips of your fingers grazed the top of his bicep as you finished wrapping the bandage around him, your lips pressed into a tight, thin line as a pensive frown plagued your facade. You eventually had to stuff your bottom lip between the pinch of your teeth to stop it from quivering as you blinked rapidly to dispel the wetness clinging to the edges of your thick lashes. 

“Don’t give me that look” Blade said, his quiet murmur cutting through the thick silence. 

You released your bruised lip from between your teeth as your gaze now flickered up to his face, his piercing red stare causing a shiver to creep along the notches of your spine. You sniffled softly, unshed crystalline tears still vehemently beading at the corners of your eyes and making your vision a little blurry. 

“What look?” you asked as you reached for another bottle of medicinal salve. 

Blade gently caught your wrist before you could grab it, preventing you from swiping it off the little bedside table nestled close to you. Your hand started to shake and he could feel the tremble of your pulse when he pressed his fingers into your wrist. You peered up at him beneath the hood of your lashes as they fluttered over your round cheeks. 

“That look” Blade said. “Sadness doesn’t suit you.”

Something tugged on your heart strings. You were sad because of him. Because it hurt you to see his body so battered and bruised. It hurt you whenever he said you were wasting your time patching him up. He would naturally regenerate, such was his curse. It was barely a comforting thought. Too many bad thoughts plagued your head like a persistent swarm of insects, their buzzing incessant and never ceasing no matter how many times you tried to swat them away. You took a shuddering breath.

“It brings me no joy seeing you in pain.”

Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks and before they could, Blade was drawing you into his lap. You complained at first, not wanting your weight to hurt him in any way but he batted away your protests. He coiled his arms around your plump waist, giving your soft stomach a gentle squeeze as you were coddled in his lap, your thick thighs falling beside his as you were forced to sit on top of him. It felt a little ridiculous. He was the patient, not you. Blade wasn’t good with words. He didn’t know how to tell you not to worry. He couldn’t weave words like countless others he knew could. He lacked tact when it came to delicate matters and he knew his blunt words were only going to cause you further distress. You didn’t treat him like a weapon, the way he believed he deserved to be treated. You were too kind and soft hearted. You have no reason to be so close to him, when his sharp edges could cut into your soft skin and hurt you. Yet, you give your kindness to him so freely and easily, despite one wrong whisper of the mara threatening to creep in. He could hurt you. But you knew he wouldn’t. He’d rather fall on his sword than intentionally hurt you, mara or not. 

You hid your tear stained face from his sight, lips pressed to the purple and red bruises forming over his skin as they bled into his skin. These too would fade soon and the press of your plush lips was the healing balm. Blade slowly rubbed his hands along your back, his calloused fingers aching when he smoothed them against your pillowy soft skin. You were so incredibly soft and warm it was already lulling him into a state of peace. He can feel your salty tears wet his skin and it only makes him squeeze your soft waist harder. 

“Blade, can you please be a little more careful?” you softly requested. “If not for your sake, then for mine?”

He’s not sure you know what you’re asking of him. The way you had worded it, he’s unsure if it was intentional or not. Because it was exceedingly hard for Blade to refuse a request from you. Not when you ask it in such a sticky sweet voice that he can feel it rotting on the back of his teeth when you say his name like that. He was rough and sharp around the edges but only you were able to soften it up and dull it. You made him feel like he wanted to be good. Only wanted to be good just for you. No one else. Your skin squishes under his touch as his large, scarred hands touch your soft stomach, a soft hum stirring in the back of his throat as you plant another soft kiss on his bruises. 

“Just for you” he replied. 

He didn’t elaborate further and you hoped it was a promise he was going to keep. It brought a little smile to your face as you wrapped your arms around Blade’s neck, hugging him closer to your body as you tangled your hands in the baby hairs lining the nape of his neck. For now, it was enough.

[fullofbees]

Anon requested Diavolo with prompt 76 from the smut prompt list.

CW: Sexually suggestive, nothing else!

»»----------► GN!Reader

"Young Master...? Young Master!" Barbatos's voice calls down the hallway.

The closet smells of chemicals and ancient dust, though it is too dark to read any labels. Diavolo has silenced you with a hand over your mouth, holding you in place as footsteps near your hiding spot. You try to will your wildly beating heart into silence when they stop in front of the door.

One moment... and then another... until you hear the butler sigh heavily and continue down the hall. You can feel Diavolo relax, letting out his own sigh of relief. You take hold of his hand, remove it from your mouth, and spin to face him.

"Forgive me, I may have been running from my work," he whispers, though his apology does little to hide his excitement at not getting caught.

You're silent with awe. Diavolo's golden eyes shine through the darkness, his irises glowing softly, reminding you of the wide-eyed nocturnal creatures back home. You try to step closer to get a better look, but your foot collides with a bottle and nearly trips you.

Diavolo quickly steadies you before bending down and moving the offending bottle out of the way. You hear him fidget with a few other items, setting them on the shelves beside you.

"Are you... able to see?" You ask, watching the disembodied eyes of the demon look up at you.

"Yes...?" He responds, eyes narrowing when his brow furrows in confusion as he stands up.

Without thinking, you reach out and make contact with his torso. You carefully pad your way up his chest until you can finally feel the warmth of his neck. His eyes are ever watchful, ever curious, never daring to part from your face. Even as your hands briefly trace his jawline, Diavolo waits with bated breath, eager for your next move.

Cradling his face, you make the future demon king hunch down to your level. You turn his head this way and that, inspecting his eyes from each angle, watching as the light waxes and wanes within them.

"Absolutely fascinating," you whisper, "None of the brothers' eyes glow like this. Is this typical of all natural-born demons?"

He nods, the action making you giggle when your hands move with him.

"Has this not been covered in RAD's anatomy class? I'll have to adjust the curriculum-"

You boldly cut him off, "It has. I had yet to see it firsthand. It's gorgeous."

"I'm happy to hear that you think so," Diavolo says, the burning of his reddening cheeks heating the skin of your palms, "Please, feel free to look as long as you like."

"Just look?" You ask with a teasing tone.

His wonderful laugh rumbles in his chest, and though he regretfully removes himself from your appreciative touch, it is rectified when his hands find your waist to hold your hips flush against his. "Barbatos can't be upset if I'm helping our dear exchange student with a private anatomy lesson."

Your laughter joins his, followed by a light gasp when his hands slide to the back of your thighs. He picks you up like it's nothing, pressing you against the wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Even through the layers of your uniforms, you can still feel the heavy outline of Diavolo's hard cock pulsing between your legs.

"Do I turn you on that much?"

You already knew the answer. He does a terrible job of pretending he isn't undressing you in his mind whenever you walk into a room. It's funny how quickly he comes undone with one compliment from you; but you promise to use your powers responsibly. Still, you want to hear him say it.

"You don't even fucking know," he groans, rolling his hips so you can feel every needy inch of him.

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: Another flirty intro for another gentle giant lmao

[ssentimentals]

hi queen👑, I'm back to request another drabble to fill the loneliness in my heart LOL and still ready to be a lil suga momma if you ever decide to take commissions or just gifts 🎁 💗 one day I'll be brave enough to request without being anonymous, maybe then we can be friends 🥹👉👈

can I pleaseee request suggestive #39 with my ult dino?

have a great day 🥰

ahhh hi my angel! this is so cute and tbh the best proposal anyone has ever done to me (sugar momma wise) lol. and oh!! pls i would love for us to be friends!!! 💜 no pressure though, feel free to come off anon whenever you want. and of course you can request, hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'you think you can run that pretty little mouth of yours whenever you want?'

being a brat is a full time job and dino is extremely thankful that you don't really take it seriously. you can act bratty occassionally, but most of the time he is not dealing with any kind of tantrums from your side. which is why he's a bit surprised and caught off guard with what's happening right now.

'throw that attitude out the window.' dino keeps his voice at level, even when his left eye is twitching from what he just heard. he watches as your eyes widen at his words and before you can go off, he adds: 'talk like a normal person, please.'

'what did you just say to me?' you ask, baffled. 'do you even hear yourself?'

'do you?' dino counters. with the corner of his eyes he can see that small crowd from a shop nearby is watching you two closely, very invested in the scene you are creating. 'just- let's finish this at home. let's just go home, get in the car.'

'like hell i will.'

dino can physically feel how his patience is wearing thin. your defiant pose with arms crossed over your chest and one hip cocked to the side is killing him and he wish it was in an angry way. you have no business in looking this hot, when you are being this annoying. god, some things are just really not fair. dino steps closer to you and pulls you into a crashing hug despite your protests: 'you think you can run that pretty little mouth of yours whenever you want? on the street? making a scene?' he whispers, smirking at the way you freeze and shiver in his arms. 'get in the car, honey.'

'i will not-'

'i will have my way with you in front of those stupid women, who are eyeing us since the moment you decided to go crazy.' he interrupts and loosens his hold just enough for you to turn your head and see who he's talking about. 'i swear i will.'

'you are crazy.' you whisper in disbelief, not fighting him anymore.

'yeah,' dino readily agrees, barely holding himself from kissing you senseless. 'totally insane about you.'

it's cheesy and doesn't fit at all in this conversation, but he's glad he said it because he can tell you're smiling in the crook of his neck now. good, he loves making you smile. he loves making you all breathy and moaning underneath him more though, so you two really need to get back home.

'get in the car,' dino says and thank god you listen.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[saey707]

Omg I've been checking your account, like, everyday to see if you're alive. Hope everything is ok‼️

But you being back AND opening requests for Heartsteel?! Omg. Any thoughts for sub!Hearsteel!Kayn? I literally live for Kayn content. Take care <3

✿ Prompt: Submissive Heartsteel Kayn Headcanons ✿

♡ champion focus: kayn ♡ tw: nsfw ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Hi I'm totally normal about Kayn ahahaha... (•ﻌ•) But, hey anon, thanks for always stopping in to check in on me! Life has been crazy on my end, but I'll give that kinda update soon in a separate post. For now let's focus on our little menace Kayn! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ The NSFW content will be below the "Keep Reading" mark. Enjoy! ✩ ♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You would be the balancing factor to his chaos in your relationship: Always keeping him within safe boundaries under the careful scrutiny of the public eye but still giving him enough room to just be a stupid, carefree guy who flies off the handle at the right moments! Still, even if you wanted to control him, you couldn't.

Kayn has a will of his own and does whatever he wants! But, if you are in the back of his mind, urging for him to do the right thing, then maybe, just maybe, he can make the tough decision to not be a complete asshole to the paparazzi.

"It's not my fault! I'm too hot for my pictures to be sold to the public. For free at that?!"

Kayn would be a bratty sub. He talks back and resists self-restraint. He pushes your buttons and knows all the right moves to get under your skin, even in good fun!

The brash, hot-pink-headed rockstar does just about anything to get the attention of everyone around him. But with you? You're definitely a unique case. When it comes to you, he shies away from his usual idiocy and tries to do more to impress you (newsflash: He is still a careless idiot).

Kayn is undoubtedly a needy boyfriend, so expect a lot of physical intimacy and extreme, risk-taking measures to get attention!

And if you're not on the road with him during the touring season? You better text back within 5 minutes!! ...Why aren't you texting him back?!

"Look at this picture of me standing on a motorcycle!!" "Babe?" "Babe??" "Babe" ". . ." "Please respond" "Are you sleeping?" "Wake up!!!!!!!"

VAIN VAIN VAIN- Kayn relishes compliments and likes to be reminded of how talented and good-looking he is! He knows he's hot shit, but boy oh boy does he love to hear it from you!

As much as the little menace wants to believe he is the dominant one in your relationship with all the control, power, and prestige, Kayn gets super blushy and weak whenever you are gentle with him and publicly display your affection. How is he supposed to come off as big and bad when you make him feel this submissive and pathetic?!

Sometimes Kayn just needs those little moments to mellow out and have someone take care of him, especially when met with the pressures that come with being a part of a global phenomenon!

Loves cuddling into your chest and having his hair pet! Just be careful or he might start to nip and bite!

If there is one thing Kayn loves more than committing crimes, it's knowing you will always be by his side, no matter the ups and downs in his career... And the scared look on your face whenever he takes the wheel on the road~

A LOUD moaner! He has no shame in allowing everyone to hear him whoring himself out for you!

During sex, Kayn loses control and lets you dominate him.

He wants you to be rough with him. Push him down to his knees and make him beg for you... Scratch into his skin when you're pounding into him and slamming yourself down onto him... Shout your praises and call him yours!

It's as if he loses all mental faculties and becomes nothing more than a fucktoy when it comes to you topping him- nothing more than someone you can pleasure yourself with.

And he definitely doesn't have any shame when it comes to letting you take him in public places~ So what if it's a crime? So what if someone walks in or catches you two? That makes it all the more heart-pounding... All the more exciting to him!

Still, if you don't want to risk jail time, don't let that stop you from stuffing a towel into his mouth, tongue, or fingers~ Kayn loves it whenever his mouth is full anyways.

At times, Kayn can be cooperative, but most of the time he will make you work for it!

Put him on a leash. Just do it.

[billybob598]

More Than You Know (Leah Williamson x Reader)

All right! So this is a F1 reader x Leah fic requested by anon. Again any feedback good or bad is welcomed! I'm sorry if there's lots of f1 talk and some don't get it. I have another f1 fic coming up but other than that nothing else so, if people want to start sending me requests, please do! I'll get more into that later. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.1K (That's what Docs said anyways)

Set at Abu Dhabi GP, end of 2023

Thursday

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the final press conference of the 2023 Formula 1 season.” You fix your shirt as you settle into the seat. Max Verstappen, your teammate, on your left with Charles Leclerc beside him.

“Question for Y/N and Max, heading into the final race of the season the title battle is close between the two of you. What kind of mindset do you have for one of the most important races in your career?”

“To win,” Max says simply. All the reporters let out a laugh as you crack a smile.

“Y/N?” The guy who asked the question prompts you.

“Uh, well, I mean for sure to win is the goal but, trying to just stay calm and do what I’ve done for the last twenty-two races,” you explain. After a few more minutes of questions, they let you go. Walking through the paddock and into the Red Bull garage you can’t help but let your mind spiral. This was your first championship battle, this was Max’s third. You were only 22 years old, if you won on Sunday you’d be the youngest-ever F1 champion and the first-ever female champion. You knew you had to be a little lucky on race day, considering you sat five points behind Max. 

Entering your driver room you’re met with your girlfriend, Leah Williamson.

“Hey babe, what are you doing now?” She asks you, watching as you pace back and forth across the room.

“Track walk, I think.” 

“Okay, well I’m going to meet up with Alex in a couple of minutes so, I’ll see you later, yeah?” She presses a small kiss on your forehead. 

“Okay, yeah, see you later,” 

Friday

You loved racing around Yas Marina Circuit, it had just the right amount of technical corners and overtaking opportunities. You loved the lights and going underneath the hotel. Probably the worst part of it though, was the heat. Sitting in your car you feel like you’re going to die from the heat. Sweat just keeps pouring from every pore on your body, making your race suit damp. At the end of Free Practice 2 you were the fastest overall. This gives you a little bit of confidence, your race pace also seemed to be pretty strong so these were all good signs. Leah watches as you take your crash helmet and balaclava off, trying your best to fix your sweaty hair. You looked hot, and Leah was living for it.

“You’re drooling,” Alex, who happened to be right beside her, said. Leah shakes out of her trance enough to give Alex a light slap on the shoulder. 

“Whatever mate, if you had a girlfriend as hot as mine you’d be drooling as well.”

A couple of hours later, after all the media was done and the sponsor dinner was finished, you and Leah finally were able to settle into bed. Leah’s arm draped over you and her head nuzzled into your neck. She was just about to doze off when you spoke very quietly into the darkness,

“Would you be mad at me if I didn’t win?” Of course, Leah knew you were nervous, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? But, for you to think that she would be angry with you if you finished second? That was terrible.

“Of course not, love, I’d be sad for you, sure, but mad? Never.” This seems to calm you down a bit, and soon enough you both are sleeping soundly.

Saturday

“Good luck kiss?”  Your favourite blonde questions. It was a tradition in your relationship, whenever either of you were participating in a sporting event you had to make sure you kissed just before it started. 

“Of course,”  you say with a smile, not that she can see it. Your helmet already on with your visor up so she can see your eyes. Leah kisses where she imagines your lips are, you can’t help the dopey smile that comes across your face, the squint of your eyes making it obvious what you’re doing.

Leah watches on as your car pulls out of the garage and onto the track. After making it through both Q1 and Q2 easily now comes the biggest test, the top 10 shootout. Your banker lap for Q3 is solid, only six-hundredths of Max’s time and you know you can improve. As you cross the line to start your second flying lap you feel the adrenaline rush through your veins. Every turn of the steering wheel, every push of the pedals, and every G against your body feels just right. Heading into the final sector you know you’re going faster than your first lap. Crossing the line, your entire body relaxes as you hear your engineer over the radio,

“Okay mate, that’s P1 so far, P1 so far, but Max is yet to cross the line.” You wait anxiously for Max to finish his lap. Leah feels her heart sink as she sees Max’s name move above yours on the timing screen. 

“For fuck’s sake, fuck this shit, honestly,” you say over the radio.

“It’s okay Y/N, points come tomorrow,” your engineer replies.

“You’re right, you’re right, let’s get them tomorrow.”

Leah gives you a hug when she finally sees you after all the media and post-qualifying traditions.

“You did great love, don’t be too hard on yourself,” she says sweetly. You sigh, knowing she is right.

“Mhm, I’m not that happy but I’ll get over it. I think right now all I wanna do is go back to the hotel and cuddle with you,” you mutter with a little pout. Leah finds this adorable. So, when you guys do get back to the hotel she cuddles with you until you fall asleep, only hours before one of the most important races of your life.

Sunday

When you wake up you feel the nerves settle inside of you. Leah tried her best to get you to eat something before your race. Abu Dhabi was a night race so, you still had the whole day ahead of you. After going through the pre-race meetings with your engineers you feel pretty confident in the strategy for today. As you walk around the grid with the music in your headphones blasting you see your girlfriend walking towards you. Slipping one side of your ear so you can hear, you give her a questioning look. She never usually comes onto the grid before races, why would she now? 

“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Leah says kindly, “I know you’re nervous, but don’t be, you’re gonna smash it out there.” Your heart melts at her consideration.

“Thanks Lee, I’ll do you proud I swear,” you say, looking at her with what can only be described as heart-eyes. 

“You already have, more than you know,” she smiles at you, giving one last kiss on your lips before heading back to the garage.

A couple of minutes later, you’re sitting inside your car mentally preparing yourself for the race. The entire formation lap your mind is blank, trying your best to not overthink. As you park in your grid slot as close to a billion people watch with their breaths held.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix!” Crofty exclaims into his microphone.

You get a good start drawing alongside Max heading into the first corner, but he pushes you wide. As the pair of you continue to the first of two long straights, you follow closely behind him gaining a slipstream. When you enter the braking zone you decide to go for a dive bomb, getting your elbows out a little to barge past your teammate and take the lead. 

“She can’t fucking do that, mate. She pushed me off the track,” Max voices to GP.

“If Max has a problem with that, then he can cry in a crib, that was clean.”

As the race gets past halfway done, both you and Max had made pit stops, while also exchanging the lead of the race multiple times. Leah had about chewed her entire nail off watching. She was nervous as hell, she could feel something bad about to happen, she just knew it in her gut. 

You once again closed up to the rear end of Max with DRS. As you got close enough to pass you slightly jerked out to the left before cutting back to the right, effectively dummying him. You were on the outside heading into the sweeping left-hander of Turn 9, you tried your best to give him space, but he completely misses the apex and rams into your front wheel/side of your car. Your neck whips to the side as you try to keep control of your car. 

“What the fuck was that?! What a fucking idiot, I gave him shitloads of space! Is there any damage on the car?” You are pretty much yelling into the radio. The anger you’re feeling showing through your choice of words.

“So, major front wing damage we are going to have to box. Box, box.” Swearing under your breath you pull into the pit lane for new tyres and a new front wing. Stopping on your marks you sit there for what feels like forever before finally getting the green light and getting back on track. Leah knows you are fuming but she also knows that you’re very good at turning that anger into motivation. She readies herself for a wild end to the race.

“Okay, so the gap to Max is 30 seconds.”

“Just leave me alone, I know what to do,” you say sternly.

For the next 24 laps, you put in of the most impressive comebacks in F1 history. Closing the gap a little bit each lap. You fully catch up to him on the final lap of the race. The entire world sits on the edge of their seat as you stick right up to Max’s gearbox for the majority of the lap. Entering the final sector, you find the gap to stick your nose down. Making an unorthodox move down the inside into Turn 12. When it becomes clear that you stuck the move your side of the garage goes crazy. Leah screams, thinking it is too good to be true. As you head around the final corner, the Red Bull mechanics hang off the side of the fence cheering and yelling as you cross the finish line. 

“She’s redefined motorsport as we know it, and as she crosses the line Y/N Y/L/N is CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!” Crofty shouts. 

“AAAHHHH OH MY GODDDD! YESSS GUYS COME ON! I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY!” You scream over the radio. 

“YOU” VE DONE IT MATE! YOU’VE DONE IT! GOOD LORD!” Your engineer screams back at you. You start to cry as you go around for your celebration lap. When you park in front of the number 1 sign you take a minute inside of your car to collect your thoughts. Finally, you get out and stand on top of the car, raising your arms in celebration. You jump down and start sprinting to your team. After receiving multiple hugs and slaps on the back, mixed with a varying range of screams and yells, you decide to look for your girlfriend. Looking around you spot your favourite person on Earth and make a beeline for her. She pulls you into a bone-crunching hug, tears streaming down her face. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you, more than you know,” she says tearfully. You give her an award-winning smile before moving to take your helmet and balaclava off. You surprise Leah when you connect your lips in front of God knows how many cameras. 

“I’m a World Champion Lee, a World Champion.”

“I know Y/N, I know,” she giggles at how excited you look. After completing the post-race interview you make your way to the podium.

“And your Abu Dhabi Grand Prix winner and 2023 World Champion, Y/N Y/L/N!” 

The crowd and paddock below you roar as you make your way onto the podium, pumping your fists with joy. Stepping onto the top step of the podium, a sense of relief washes over you, everything you’d worked for this entire season, your entire life basically, had finally paid off. You take your cap off when your national anthem plays and begin to scan through the crowd until you meet blue ones. You give her a grin and blow her a kiss. She returns it. When you are finally handed your first-place trophy you raise it high with a little yell. After the rest of the podium is handed their trophies, you get to your favourite part, the champagne. Spraying it in every possible place, you can’t stop the stupid-looking smile from taking over your facial features. When the celebrations seem to die down a little you look over at Leah, mouthing,

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she mouths back.

“More than you know.”

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

Alright let's start off with the primary points:

1 - You do NOT have to give to get.

2 - You do not have to get to give.

3 - Read everything, there's quite a few moving parts =D

Things You Can Do During This Event:

1 - Request a story from me (see the end of the post for the format!)

2 - You can give me a gift! (see "Gifting Quin" below!)

3 - Reblog this post to be entered into a raffle!

Details below the cut!

Raffle Prizes!

-:- 1,000 words of anything you want (within reason) - can be a one-shot, can be a demand for a specific title (make me work on that title you've been dying to read more of). Just has to be One Piece related.

-:- OC Cameo - I'll plunk your OC/self-insert into a story (that is not the Host Club AU ^^; )

-:- I'll draw something for you \o/ I'm not great, but hey, free art xD

Gifting Quin!

❤️ - Pin 5$ to my shirt - it's a local-ish birthday tradition.

❤️ - Share one of my stories and leave a comment \o/ You can do this whenever, but it really makes my day, so have at!

❤️ - Gift me a story, or some art 😳🥰

Ideas (please do NOT send me saucy stuff on anon or if you're under 18):

1 - Draw a scene from any of the stories you've liked! 2 - Draw Quill - by themself, or with you and/or your OC, or a One Piece character \o/ Quill can be a boy, girl, or whatever mix tickles your fancy. Have fun =D 3 - Draw what you see when you think of "Reader" for any given story. 4 - Re-write a scene for a story =O How would you tell me that scene? 5 - Write me a one-shot using the prompts below 😇 6 - Free form a ficlet, drabble, head canon, series of bullet points with ANY anime character and either a "Reader" or Quill =3 Spread your wings beyond One Piece (Wind Breaker, YYH, FMA, MHA, Habin hotel, etc - go wild 🥰)

Feel free to ask me ANYTHING if you're unsure of something

Birthday Bash Requests \o/

Finally, the part you've all been waiting for XD

*** Anon Requests Will be SFW only ***

-:- Give me some reader vibes as applicable (gender/height vibes) -:- Give me a blorbo (or blorbos) - One Piece only please ❤️ -:- Pick something from each of the lists below and then submit your ask! (any items not specified in the ask will be my choice 😇 cause it's my birthday celebration XD )

Pick 1 Vibe: SFW SFW dark SFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW Consensual NSFW dubcon/dark NSFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW noncon Writer's Choice (please include squicks if you pick dark or dub/non con options)

Pick 1 AU: Canon Universe Mafia AU Fantasy AU Cowboy AU Government Mandated Marriage AU Soul Mates AU Modern AU Hallmark AU Mythical Creatures AU Vampire AU Coffee Shop AU A/B/O AU Monster AU (you can say what kind of monster you prefer) BDSM AU Host Club AU Grandline Metro AU (Quicksand, A Light Touch, Heart of Gold, Thrice Prophesized are set in this AU) Writer's Choice (spin that wheel!)

Pick 1 Prompt: Angst / Bad End Aphrodisiac - sex pollen, drugged food, struck by needle, devil fruit Bath/Shower/hotspring Body writing (icing, ink, blood, etc.) Caught in the Act Contractually Obligated Creature x Human Date / First date Dungeon Erotically charged fight Experienced w/virgin Forced Proximity - box, flight, cell, bondage, get-a-long shirt Friend’s hot older sibling Fuck or die Lazy morning sex Long-Term Established Relationship Only One Bed Outside Pliant When Horny Role-play Roughed Up Size Difference (I write this a lot, but I do love it.) Soft/Comfort Sugar daddy/mama The hat rule They were… coworkers/neighbors/etc. Trapped in a Room Trying Again (exes getting back together) Unresolved sexual tension Wounded Writer's Choice

***Requests will be accepted from 6/1 - 7/10 - and posted from 6/1 - 7/31***

Gifts are accepted from 6/1 until whenever \o/ Don't feel pressured to get them in by 7/20 🥰

[frvnkcastles]

May I please request something w Frank where he has a punching bag set up in the apartment, and whenever you're over at his and you feel so many emotions flare up you excuse yourself sweetly and beat the hell out of the bag? And it gets to the point where you use the spare key when he's away just to use the bag? And when he comes back from an outing as the punisher he finds you curled up on the couch with split knuckles, a boxers fracture and crying, bot only from the pain of the fracture but just all of the emotions. And he takes you to the hospital to get your hands seen to and you have to wear a splint for a month which hinders you in which he helps?

Just comfort, maybe a touch 18+ when he has to help you bathe and change? Thank you!

THE WARMTH OF YOUR ARMS ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You fracture your hand while channeling all your emotions into Frank’s punching bag, and he looks after you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, implied sexual content, gender neutral reader

Word count: 2.3k

Author’s note: Anon I am truly sooo sorry it took me so long to get to this, I really hope it was worth the wait! Sending you much love <3

Dating Frank came with many perks, like always having a guard dog disguised as a big, burly man or coming home just to find dinner ready and a bath about to be drawn. He took amazing care of you and he wouldn’t have it any other way, and it made you indescribably happy. That said, you still had a lot of stress and anger and sadness to get off of your shoulders, and that was where another upside of being Frank came in.

He had a punching bag set up in his apartment, just for his convenience, and you found great enjoyment in watching him beat it up, all sweaty and breathing heavily. But when you came over to his place after a long, frustrating day at work, the annoyance too much to bear, he suggested giving the punching bag a go. He showed you how to angle your fists and how to avoid hurting yourself, and as soon as he let go of you, you rained Hell on the bag, grunting and shouting while unleashing all your rage.

Ever since, your go-to for releasing pent-up emotions was attacking the bag, and Frank encouraged it. It helped you in ways that talking couldn’t always do, even if Frank always made sure to check in with you afterwards and calmed you down with lots of kisses and caresses. It was a good outlet for you, and he liked to see you free that animal inside of you that just needed to hurt something to feel better.

”Want you to have this, sweetheart”, Frank spoke up one day, approaching you on the couch of his living room with something in his fingertips. Once he handed it over, you realized it was a key, and instantly, your heart fluttered in your chest. It was a big step in your relationship, and he could see the surprise in your eyes, prompting him to go on. ”I know, I know. I just want ya to know that you’re always welcome here and that you have the right to stop by even if I ain’t home. I know you love that punching bag, so want you to use it anytime you’d like, yeah?” he explained, the look in his eyes serious. When you gave him an eager nod, though, he broke into a smile.

”I’ll take you up on that, baby.”

And you did. The bag wasn’t the only reason you visited, you also liked to take care of him the same way he took care of you by cleaning up or cooking for him, or leaving a new book on his bedside table. Still, you appreciated the chance to de-stress whenever you wanted, and you claimed that offer on multiple occasions.

The first time you regretted it was on a particularly bad day. Your emotions were getting the best of you and you felt so burdened and weighed down, unsure what else to do except go to Frank’s apartment. You knew he was out doing his thing, so you couldn’t get support from him, leaving you no option to go at the punching bag.

As you punched and punched, tears prickled at your eyes and you began to lose track of time. Your vision blurred and your head pounded, just like you were pounding the bag with your fists. You felt so angry and defeated at the same time, it was gnawing at you from the inside and you just wanted the bad feeling to go away.

You fell into a daze that you couldn’t break out of — until your hand cracked against the bag and the shock of the pain got a wail out of you. You stopped, doubling over while holding your hand, and pained cries escaped your mouth. The ache was terrible and agonizing and you couldn’t move your hand properly, sending panic coursing through you. Your breathing became ragged and as your head was spinning, you stumbled over to Frank’s couch to ground yourself and avoid falling over.

You supported your hand with your other one, unable to stop crying as the pain mixed in with the storm of emotions inside you. You were overwhelmed and it was causing you to freeze when you should have called Frank, your body shutting down while you sobbed on the couch.

You lucked out, as Frank had called it an early night and headed home sooner than expected. Once he made it to his front door, he heard your cries from inside, and within seconds, worry flared up in his chest and he was rushing to get inside. Whatever had happened, he needed to help you, not caring about the grime on him or the swelling on his eye anymore.

Bursting through the door, he dropped his bag on the floor and stomped over to you, eyes wide with concern. ”Baby, baby, what happened? Hey, ’m here, talk to me. Are you hurt?” he questioned, quickly assessing the situation and noticing you holding your hand in pain. He felt sick to his stomach, not to mention impatient to get to the bottom of what had happened — he didn’t do so well with being in the dark, especially when it came to something as important as you and your well-being.

”I had a terrible day, so—so I came here to punch it out but I really hurt my hand and I just feel so awful”, you rambled, almost non-sensical but Frank understood enough of it. His frown deepened but he nodded to confirm that he got you, and softly, he reached to wipe away your tears from your warm cheeks.

”I gotchu, darlin’. Can I see that hand? Lemme look”, he requested, and shaking viciously, you let him cradle your hand and observe it carefully. When he turned it just a little, you winced, and he immediately felt bad. ”Sorry, sweetheart. Think it’s fractured. I’mma gonna take you to the emergency room, aight?” he explained, and still weeping, you nodded. He sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead, hoping to console you at least a little.

”It’s gon’ be okay, I promise. You can tell me all about your day soon, sweetheart. We just need to get that hand looked at”, he insisted before helping you up from the couch and leading you to the front door. And before stepping out, he sent a mean glare at the punching bag, reconsidering whether it was a good idea to have it or not.

He drove you to the emergency room, feeling like shit the whole time. You were holding your hand and sniffling the entire drive and he kept telling you it would be alright and he wasn’t going anywhere, but it didn’t alleviate his anguish. He wanted to take your pain away, both physical and emotional, leaving him feeling hopeless when he couldn’t do that.

You were fortunate in that it wasn’t too busy at this time of the night, and a doctor was able to see you after only a moment of waiting. Frank stood behind you while you were being examined, practically your protective shadow, and you felt a little better about your shitty day just because he was there. You hadn’t gotten to rant yet, but only his presence had a soothing effect on you.

You had to get your hand x-rayed, turning your night into a long one, but while you were waiting for the results, Frank got you some snacks for the vending machine. He watched you closely as you sadly munched on a chocolate bar, lacking all enthusiasm, and he could tell you had been completely drained by the day.

”What happened today, huh? We got some time, so ’m all ears, sweetheart. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he inquired with a solemn look. He hated that you were hurting on the outside, but he knew the doctor would be able to do more than he could himself, so he decided to focus on what was happening on the inside.

Sighing, you glanced at him. ”It feels stupid now. Probably wasn’t worth breaking my hand”, you pointed out, and with an unamused chuckle, Frank gave your shoulder a slight nudge.

”C’mon. Y’know I don’t mind. I wanna hear all ’bout what’s goin’ on with my baby”, he emphasized, knowing that without a little pressure you would have just bottled it up, and he didn’t like that. He wanted to know everything, help in any way he could, and he wouldn’t allow you to feel bad for leaning on him.

So, you detailed everything that had pushed you over the edge and made you feel so terrible. Sometimes it was hard to understand the extreme emotions in you but up until now, the punching bag had been a great way for you to release everything.

”That sounds real tough, darlin’. I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner, y’know? I never wanna see you hurtin’ in any way”, he sighed once you were finished, caressing your unharmed hand. ”Thinkin’ we gotta get rid of the punching bag. I ain’t riskin’ you gettin’ banged up like this again. We’ll figure somethin’ else out, yeah?” he noted, though he wasn’t really looking to debate about it — to him, it was already a done deal. Anything that got you hurt was out immediately.

”Talking to you helps. Thanks for listening, Frankie”, you admitted, smiling at him softly, and he returned it, albeit smaller and sneakier.

”Anytime, sweetheart. Love you, aight? I’mma make sure tomorrow is a better day”, he swore, warming your heart as you dropped your head onto his shoulder.

”Love you, too.”

Finally, the doctor called you back in, and as feared, your hand was fractured. The remedy was a splint you were bound to wear for a month, and as he attached it to your hand, you thought about all the things you were going to struggle with for the next 30 days.

”Some help will probably be needed with routine things like cooking, cleaning, that kind of stuff”, the doctor mentioned, and before you even had time to feel bad and like a burden, Frank was responding.

”That ain’t a problem. I’ll take care of everythin’ for as long as necessary”, he stated simply, giving you a stern look. ”No arguments, you hear me? I’m lookin’ after you, not gonna let you outta my sight”, he proclaimed, and unable to hide a smile, you agreed.

He took you home and right away, you were faced with problems that only Frank could help with. ”I was hoping to take a bath…”, you trailed off shyly, but it was all Frank needed to hear.

”You got it, sweetheart. C’mere”, he wrapped an arm around you and steered you into the bathroom where he plugged the tub before starting the tap. As the tub began to fill up, he gently reached for the hem of your shirt, giving you a questioning look. ”Aight if I help you undress?” he asked, and already nodding, you lifted your arms.

”Always”, you affirmed, and with consent acquired, he began peeling your clothes off. He started with your shirt, and as soon as your chest was revealed, his eyes lingered. You could tell he was trying to be respectful, but you grinned, nonetheless. ”See something you like, mister?” you teased, and with a snort, Frank licked his lips.

”Y’know I do. Can’t get enough of you, darlin’”, he praised, his eyes dark as he towered over you and unbuttoned your jeans. As he shimmied them down your thighs and legs, he brushed his hands across your underwear and you saw him swallow hard. ”Fuckin’ perfect”, he muttered under his breath, boosting your ego as he tossed your jeans aside.

Once you were completely naked, he had to stop himself from letting his hands roam, although you wouldn’t have minded. Still, he showed restraint as he helped you step into the tub and get seated comfortably. Rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed the shampoo, ready to wash your hair for you, and you felt heat rise to your face at the thought of your own uselessness.

”Sorry about this”, you sighed as he was massaging your scalp, his thick fingers expertly scrubbing the shampoo into your hair. It was going to be a long month, and you feared he would get sick of it, but he was quick to reassure otherwise.

”Nah, don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’ll always take care of you, got that? I ain’t lettin’ you go through this alone”, he vowed, his loyalty to you unwavering. He had been unable to prevent you getting hurt in the first place, but he sure as hell was going to stick around for the aftermath. ”Think you should stay here for the next month, yeah? Don’t want you strugglin’ at home by yourself”, he added, and with a careful smile, you nodded.

”I’d like that”, you beamed before continuing, ”you sure it’s gonna be okay?”

With a confident smile, Frank stopped massaging your hair just enough to tilt his head at you and meet your gaze. ”I’m sure, sweet darlin’. I’mma make sure things go smoothly”, he spoke with conviction, fully intending to take care of everything for the next month — and after that, too.

He stayed true to his word. Your fractured hand came in the way of far more things than you had anticipated, but Frank watched you like a hawk and you never had to ask, he was already there. He cooked for you, letting you take charge with some of the easier steps to involve you in the process, and he helped you get dressed every morning, admittedly with wandering hands and a hungry stare. He wouldn’t let you do anything by yourself, just to be safe, but he also didn’t let you feel like a burden, always ready to console you and remind you that you were one day closer to getting the splint off.

And just like he had said, the punching bag was gone.

[cyberweek]

CyberWeek 2025 starts January 19th!

A weeklong celebration of our favorite edutainment program with artistic prompts everyday! The show first premiered on the 21st of January so let’s celebrate!

Please check out the info below cut!!

What sort of Art is allowed?

Any and all! Traditional/Digital Art, Writing, Cosplay, Video edits, anything you can make! Anything you wanna make! Sew a doll, bake a cake, whatever! Sadly, prompts aren’t made with all types of art in mind, so feel free to interpret them however you want to fit your medium!

Rules!

Prompts are posted early this year, and I ask that you withhold from posting your entries until the day of! You may however start and finish them whenever you want!

Tag your post with #cyberweek2025! Or @cyberweek (this blog)! Or both!

Follow this blog and support your fellow Cyberchase fans!

No Lewd. No P*dophilia or inc*st.

No Tracing, Use of Bases or other assets without COMPLETE transparency. Credit your sources! Pinterest, WeHeartIt, Google etc are not sources. Find the artist, please.

Use of AI is prohibited. Whether you submit only what the AI produces or use it as reference/inspiration. This includes visual, text, and auditory generative AI.

Angst, light gore/blood and etc are allowed. Try to keep it PG13. Everything will be tagged accordingly so remember to use Tumblr’s tag filter feature to your advantage.

OCs should only show up on the OC prompt.

Prompts

Jan 19 - Redraw

Let's warm up with the prompt Redraw! You can choose whether you want to redraw a scene from the show or Cyberchase art you've made in the past!

Jan 20 - Seasons

We've had the prompts Winter and Summer! This year, you get the choice to do whatever season you want! Missed out on the Summer prompt? Just feel like doing Winter again? Have at it! Maybe your favorite season is Spring or Autumn and it's their time to shine!

Jan 21 - Chase

Today is the Anniversary of the show we all love! So let's put the CHASE in Cyberchase! There are lots of episodes that involve the good guys chasing the bad guys! Or trying to outrun them! What was your favorite? Or maybe you have a thrilling scenario in mind!

Jan 22 - Chill

What's the opposite of Chase?? Well, it's to run away. But we're going with the prompt chill!! The show involves a lot of high stakes, so let's give our favorite characters some down time. How do they relax? Alone? With others? A good book, or do they skate their troubles away?

Jan 23 - Food

Cyberchase has a lot of unique looking food! Maybe we can make a nice painting of one. Or have some characters share a nice lunch on your favorite Cybersite. This prompt has so many possibilities!

Jan 24 - Companion

We're continuing the idea of relationships with this prompt, Companion! What does the word companion mean to you? Somebody that's always glued to the other's side! A faithful pet? A comrade in arms! Or maybe just a really good buddy. :)

Jan 25 - OCs

To close out our celebration of Cyberweek, let's have some fun with the little characters we've made up for fun! 😊

Thank you so much to my friends Jolly, Dossy and Rainbow for helping me with the prompts this year! 💜

Questions/Comments -

Please send all questions about this event to the inbox. Anon will be off and questions will be posted in case others have similar inquiry. Please do not reply to posts or try to chat your inquirers.

[rashomonss]

Congrats on the 800 followers! Could you please do the angst prompt, “and they won’t even look at you..?” for Satan? Thank you!💚

thank you so much anon!! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

and of course I can!! but ahh satan angst hurts my heart so muchhh

oh but btw I decided to use nightbringer satan, I hope you don’t mind, and enjoy! (๑>؂•̀๑)

lastly I believe one prompt is left open to claim for this event, and if you’d like to claim it, it can be found here!

“I’m so sorry”

“Just shut up,” Satan yelled.

“Woah no need to get so upset we’re just trying to help you out, unless you want this to get worse” Mammon sighed.

“Have you apologized to MC?” Belphie asked after a yawn escaped his mouth.

“No…” Satan said softly, staring at the fire in the living room.

“Well you should apologize first and foremost dear, then you can tell MC why you acted out the way you did” Asmo said leaning on the armrest of the couch.

“I don’t know where they are.”

“Well I called them over so you can speak to them now” Mammon said.

“What!” Satan then yelled, slightly panicking.

“The sooner you solve this the better” Belphie replied rolling over.

“He’s right ya know” Mammon added after a minute.

You followed the sound of arguing into the living room of the House of Lamentation and sighed. This day wasn’t going the best, and you couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of dread upon Mammon calling you over. Whenever he called you over, usually something bad had happened, so you prepared yourself before stepping into the living room.

However you were instead surprised to see Satan and most of the brothers arguing in the living room.

“What did you need Mammon?” You asked, walking closer to the couch that the majority of demons were laying on.

“Ah well actually Satan has somethin’ to tell ya”

“I see…” you then replied. Upon hearing the fourth born's name you sighed and began to walk back out the door.

“MC wait..!” Satan yelled running after you.

“Apologizes but I have to get back to Cocytus Hall now. If you all need anything please just text me for the rest of the day.”

“MC please…can we talk?” Satan asked, grabbing your hand.

“Let go of me, and no we can’t. You made it clear earlier that you had nothing important to discuss with me, so in return I have nothing to discuss with you either, now if you’ll excuse me” you responded breaking free from his grasp.

“MC please just listen. I promise it won’t happen again…I didn’t mean it. Please just look at me” He pleaded. For the first time Satan couldn’t understand why he felt so bad. Why did his chest ache so much?

“I said we had nothing to discuss so drop it Satan. Not every problem can be solved automatically after it’s created. I have no intention to speak with you as of right now, and I’ll probably be upset for a while, now good day to you all.”

And just like that you had disappeared out of the living room and soon the house.

Each brother that occupied the living room stared bewildered at what had just happened. They had never seen you that upset and to top it all off at Satan nonetheless…he was the one you had been the most patient with.

“Satan what did you do..?” Asmo asked softly.

“Yeah what the hell did ya do?” Mammon then added.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Well why did MC give ya the cold shoulder then?”

“Shut up”

“Yeah and not to mention the fact that they won’t even look at you..?”

“How did you even manage that?”

“Uh guys you’re not helping…Satan looks like he’s about to explode” Belphie said hiding behind the couch.

After Belphie spoke, Satan yelled and began to trash the living room as his brothers tried their best to sneak out, and once he was finished he made his way up to his room and slammed the door shut.

What was he feeling? Why was he feeling like this? He needs to know what emotion is currently overwhelming him at the moment and why.

But no matter how hard he tried to think about it he couldn’t exactly understand why he was feeling like this.

You usually told him what he was feeling and why he was feeling like that. You were always able to describe his emotions perfectly and now he needed you right now more than anything to help him express himself.

He then thought back to how this all happened. It started with both of you hanging out in his room enjoying each other’s company, that is until you both began to argue.

He doesn’t even remember how the argument started or what the purpose was, but he did remember the words he spoke to you.

“What would you know about me? What would you know about them? You’re even less a part of this so-called “family” than I am, so don’t try to act like you actually understand anyone, let alone me.”

He remembers the way your face dropped and the look of hurt that graced your eyes. He didn’t mean it…it just came out. It’s not like he wanted it too.

Satan wanted to finally show you that he wasn’t just some demon who was incapable of feeling something other than anger.

But as of right now, maybe everyone else was right, maybe he really was nothing but just a hot tempered demon who couldn’t do anything without you.

The thought made him upset and like usual so he did what he does best when upset, he destroys things.

However throughout his rampage he completely lost track of the book you had gifted him awhile back and proceeded to rip it to shreds along with others that sat in a pile in front of him.

It was only until he saw your handwriting, as the pages fell to the floor around him, that caused him to stop and cry out in anger and sadness.

[lebbys-world]

Hi 💜, I'm same anon who requested the todoroki x reader fic, where reader has a hyper fixation with mugs. And It's been great comfort to me, it warms my heart when ever I read it, so thanks for doing it.

But if it's okay, I like to request another todoroki x reader, comfort fic, where reader's dealing with anxiety, and to cope with the overwhelming and confusing feelings she cleans and listens to music to distract herself. But then she also finds it difficult to communicate her feelings because she's overthinking them, like "what if I'm overreacting," "what if it's really not something worth talking about," "what if the person I'm talking to either doesn't try to understand how I feel or get mad at me for feeling the way I do."

And the worst part of it all is, reader despises crying in front of people, like something about it just makes her feel worse, but she can't talk about how she feels without crying, so it's just a lot to where reader doesn't love talking about it, but she knows that communication is what makes relationships works, so she tries to pull together the courage to talk about how she feels with Todoroki, so whenever she feels like this again she has someone to talk to.

-------------------------------------

So not gonna lie, this is very self indulging, I had a rough day a few days ago and another one now, so I kinda need the comfort. But again, you don't have to use this, and I hope you have a great day.

Also I've seen other blogs do emojis for anons as like an identification, so you as the writer know what kinda of things you're getting into. I guess, so if you plan to do that for your blog, I'd like to be "💜" because I love your writing and would like to request more if you're okay with it.

Beside Me

Todoroki x gn!reader; description of panic attack, self deprecating thoughts (the italicized paragraph - can be skipped over), angst to comfort, reader comforted by character

notes: welcome back 💜Anon !! always feel free to send in any requests you’d like !! sorry things have been a bit rough for you lately, but i do hope that this helps to bring some comfort !! hope to see you around my blog again soon !! <3

The heavy, pulsing drum of your heart beats loudly in your head. 

It feels as if every breath you take is suffocating; each could easily be your last.

The world around you feels as if it were off its axis, making your hands shake, and your legs go numb.

You managed to force your body to sit down, finding some stability on the floor of your dorm.

You’d tried dealing with the anxiety the moment it came on, desperately searching for a quick distraction.

Music was an easy go-to. It drowned out your thoughts for a little while - long enough so that you could try and focus on another task.

But it was all too much.

Everything was just too much.

The music that was meant to be comforting suddenly became a violent backing track for your crescendo of thoughts:

The day had been fine. You’re just overreacting.

No one is actually gonna help you, you know? 

Why is everything going so fast?

This is so pathetic.

I just want to feel okay again.

Why couldn't I even just clean my room?

Someone, please, help me.

Getting my hopes up is ridiculous. 

Everything is just worse when I inevitably get let down.

Why can't we just try? 

Do they even care? It doesn’t seem like it.

Maybe one day I’ll be loved. 

Maybe someday, someone will-

Your thoughts are cut off by the loud knock outside your door.

You take a shallow breath as you crane your head to the doorway, watching as the door slowly opens.

“Hey, y/n, I called you a little while ago.. You didn't pick up.”

The door opens and your eyes meet the heterochromic ones of Todoroki, staring at you ever so gently.

There’s no condemnation in his eyes.

No disappointment, or judgment.

He looked at you so softly, the only thing behind his eyes being concern and love.

You took another shaky breath as a tear unknowingly fell down your face, leading the man in front of you to prompt more questions.

“Is everything alright? What happened?”

You remain wordless as he approaches you, carefully reaching out a hand to hold yours. 

He quickly takes note of your hand’s slight shaking, placing his other hand on top in an attempt to steady you.

“Do you wanna talk to me?”

You nod, more tears falling quietly down. You can already hear your internal thoughts berating yourself for being so weak in front of someone else.

“How about for now, you just breathe with me.” He suggests, trying to demonstrate to you a technique to lower your hurried heart rate.

“Just breathe with me. When you’re ready, we can talk about everything on your mind.”

With a few in sync breaths, you huff out a small laugh,

“Thank you, Shoto.” 

He looked at you with such tenderness and earnesty, as he uttered his response:

“I’ll be right here when you need me.”

And he always was.

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[giggly-squiggily]

I have a request from the anime Free! Iwatobi Swim club. I hope that’s okay with you? It’s also been a hot minute for me with Free! and I kinda miss it.

Headcanon: Whenever Rin is being too annoying, Sousuke just tickles the living snot out of him to tire him out.

(Headcanons to Dabbles: OFFICIALLY CLOSED)

EEEEE! :D Wait I love them your honor karkjejkrjaekrjke Rin and Sousuke are some of my favorite characters- and this prompt is PERFECT! I've gotcha covered, anon! :D

CW: Foot tickles

���Would you cut that out?”

“What? I’m not even doing anything?”

Sousuke looked back at him like he grew a second head. “Yes, cause these have always belonged here.” He gestured to Rin’s feet, currently folded neatly as they rested on the bigger man’s thighs.

“Glad to see we’re on the same page, then.” The redhead grinned before turning back to his manga, snickering at the mild glare his boyfriend shot.

It wasn’t even Rin using him as a footrest that bothered him. Rather- it was the random jabs he’d feel in his gut whenever Rin decided to shift his foot, poking him “accidentally” and throwing off his own reading. He must have been on the same paragraph for nearly half an hour now.

Rin’s foot shifted- another jab in the gut.

“That’s it!” Sousuke tossed his book aside, easily entrapping one of Rin’s squirming legs. “You’re clearly in a mood to be annoying- let me show you just how annoying I can be!”

“And who are you calling annoy-EEHHEH!” Rin practically spasmed as fingers dug into his sole, scratching at the ticklish skin with ease. “Soohohooohushuhuuhuke, pleahahhahahahse!”

“Huh? What’s wrong? Does it tickle?” The brunette teased gently, grinning as Rin thrashed about- a fish out of water he resembled. “Are you going to keep using me as a footrest?”

“Proohoohohohbahahahhably!”

“That’s-well..at least you're honest.” Sousuke dropped his foot, quickly ascending the redhead’s limp body before attacking his hips. That got Rin screaming. “Say you’re gonna stop jabbing me in the gut with those goblin toes of yours. Say it!”

“WHOHOHOHO YOHOOOHU CHAHAHALLING GOHOHOOHBIN TOHOOHES!? AGEHHAHAHAHAH SOHOOHUSUKE FIHIIHIHNE! FIHIIHIHNE I’LL STHAHAHAHP!” The redhead pleased, cheeks as flushed as his eyes. Sousuke stopped his tickling, keeping his hands on his hips as he properly adjusted himself. Soon, he was lying half-on top of Rin, reaching up and brushing his hair back from his face.

“Ehehehe..fuhuhuhuck, maahahan.” He groaned, unable to stay mad as Sousuke gently smiled at him.

“You loved it. Surely that’s why you kept on tickling me.”

Big mistake. Huge. Rin’s eyes grew wide with glee. “Wait, you’re ticklish?”

Sousuke froze all over, his life flashing before his eyes. “Erm…I lied?”

A twist and fingers in his flanks soon after proved him to be rather truthful in the end.

[irkimatsu]

Huskposting Request Guidelines

Requests are currently ????? (I'll write whenever my brain lets me! Sorry if I miss you!)

I could probably make this more streamlined, but for now I just wanna get everything out of the way. I love writing about Husk from Hazbin Hotel, and I can write (almost) whatever sort of Huskpost you want to see from me, from sweet and fluffy to outright nasty! You can check my "irk huskposts"/"hazbin hotel husk x reader" tags to get a feel for what I do here.

I pretty much exclusively write for Husk. Of course I can include other characters as side characters, I love this whole cast, but Husk is the one my brain wants carnally right now.

Prompts don't need to be shippy! I don't mind doing angst, slice-of-life, headcanons; just give me an excuse to yell about Husk.

That said, I don't want to write any canon/canon ships with Husk for now, not even Huskerdust. I don't hate Huskerdust! I'm just a huge baby when it comes to shipping my F/Os with other canon characters when my obsession is new. Give me a year or two, and maybe some more canon. But until then, my relationship with Huskerdust will be nothing more than passive appreciation.

When it comes to Reader inserts, I'll do any gender and body type! I tend to default to GN!Reader and AFAB due to personal experience, but I'll write any identity, including trans readers. Everyone is welcome here! Husk is pansexual and gender-blind, of course he doesn't judge! I do concede that I don't possess a dick and any attempts at writing a reader with one might be inaccurate, but I'll do my best.

I'm fairly open to kinks and have no moral judgment toward anything in fiction. There may be a very small amount of kinks I won't write, and I do reserve the right to reject anything I don't feel comfortable writing, but do know that any rejections don't come with moral judgment. We're all bound by a desire to fuck an old undead cat, none of us has any right to judge anyone.

Please don't request NSFW if you're a minor. It's not like I'm going to check your ID or anything, but be respectful.

Requests may take a while to fill, dependent on things such as motivation and schedule. Being a full-time employee with health issues fucking sucks! I want to answer everything, but if I miss yours, it's nothing personal - real life just continuously kicks my ass. Please do not rush me, or push me into answering a prompt I truly have nothing for. Guilt just makes it even harder for me to write.

Please send requests as asks! Anon asks are turned on if you'd prefer to be anonymous! DM requests are prone to being forgotten about by my flighty excuse of a brain, and replies are prone to getting buried before I can even see them.

Feel free to ask any further questions, and enjoy the Huskposting!

[dilatorywriting]

Hello hello! So! For ages now whenever I deign to check this blog's following while I'm in the middle of hunting pornbot accounts with my internet shotgun, I'll see I hit a milestone and go, oh! Wow! What nice people! I should do something!

And then never do lol

But! THIS time, we're going for it. So thank you to all 4.3k of you for somehow finding my nonsense enjoyable enough not to block me outright. Happy to have you here.

Details Below!~

[Requests are now CLOSED! Thank you, everyone!]

RULES & INFO

❖ Posts will go up starting Saturday the 16th of September and run through Sunday the 17th of September, but requests will open as of today so I can start working on them!

❖ Feel free to send in your request under your account or as an anon, however, I do recognize you all! Especially the people who interact regularly! So if you use your account there's a higher likelihood I'll pick one of your prompts to do

❖ I'm going to write as many as I can! However, I foresee a tidal wave of incoming prompts in my future. So prompts that I like best with characters I like best (y'all know which ones by now lol), will most likely get priority. But, as above, I will try to give my regulars first priority

➢ I'm going to be using @a-cure-for-writers-block's 100 Dialogue Prompts to Make a Reader Swoon for the requests! We're going heartwarming and gooey here, folks, because y'all deserve it

➢ Please make sure to include the prompt number or the prompt itself and the character you'd like. You can ask for any of my OCs as well (ex. Stefan and Rielle from the Heroes v Villains series, etc). Please only send in one prompt at a time!

➢ Requests are going to be for Reader-Inserts as per usual, but feel free to specify a few lil personal details if you'd like them (personality traits, backgrounds, etc.). Generally, I'm hoping to do mostly gender-neutral readers as per usual, just so everyone can partake. But if there's a prompt that only seems to work one way, I'm happy to write it.

➢ Some of the prompts can be a little spicy, and I'm happy to include them and their ensuing smoot. Please specify specifically if you would like such content, because otherwise I will default to no.

See you Saturday!~