#anyways i want to get closer to him so that i can get into his security lab 🫶🫶

[jobean12-blog]

In Your Arms

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: ~900

Summary: Bucky's been away on a mission and when he returns, you're all he wants.

Author's Note: There are NO spoilers here. Just was so happy to see Bucky and enjoyed Thunderbolts and his beefiness! Those arms...my god. 🫠🔥Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness, kisses, mentions of minor injuries

The silence in the room is broken only by the soft pitter patter of rain on the large window that overlooks the gray skies blanketing the city. Your book lays limp in your hand as you stare out through the mottled glass, Alpine curled in your lap, warm against your stomach.

You reach for your phone but stop yourself with a sigh. How many minutes could have passed since the last time you checked? Instead, you lift your book and open to your book-marked page, the note he left you sliding down onto Alpine’s fur. You brush your fingers over his scrawled handwriting, smiling at his little doodles and sweet words. Settling back into the couch you start to read again.

“If I didn’t need to kiss you so badly I’d stand here and stare at you forever.”

Your head shoots up and you turn toward the sound of his deep and raspy voice. He leans against the doorframe casually, still in full gear and looking deadly but for the soft smile that pulls at his lips.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The book is discarded in seconds and much to Alpine’s displeasure you hastily remove him from your lap, walking straight toward Bucky.

“Hi.”

“Hiya doll face,” he replies, wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you against him.

Your pulse skitters as you soak in every detail of him. Only one minor cut on his forehead and nothing else, but who knows what’s beneath his gear.

“You’re ok?”

“I am now.” His voice softens to the tone he only ever uses with you as he lowers his mouth.

He kisses you slowly and gently and you lean up to get closer, taking his stubbled cheeks between your palms. With more pressure from his lips, he slides his hand up your back, grabbing the nape of your neck and angling your face to claim more of your mouth. Your fingers slide higher and into his hair.

You feel his abs tense when you press yourself closer and you reluctantly pull back. He frowns, his eyes holding enough promise to make your entire body heat.

“Are you hurt?”

Your hands fall from his face, and you start to work open the buckles of his tack vest. He doesn’t stop you, keeping his hands settled firmly on your waist. You tug it open and rip his black shirt from his pants, lifting it until you can see his skin. There’s a large bruise just under his ribs and you dig your teeth into your bottom lip to stop your gasp, pressing your fingertips softly to the spot.

“Looks worse than it is,” he says softly.

You bend at the waist and kiss his stomach, feeling the muscles shift and flex. As you stand you grab the knife at this waist and pull it free, setting it behind him on the counter. Your hands slide behind his back, fingers curling around the hilt of a second knife that you remove and place down next to the first.

A slow, beautiful smile curves his mouth as he watches you. “Three more.”

Your fingers dance down his thighs, stopping at the hidden pocket on the left side. You carefully reach inside and pull out the third knife. Knowing there must be one in his boot you fall to your knees, your eyes lifting to meet his just in time to see them grow darker.

“I love you like this,” he murmurs.

You lift your shoulder demurely and pluck out the fourth knife in his right boot, sliding slowly back up his body.

“One more,” he whispers, running his knuckles along your cheek.

His gaze drops to your mouth, then skims over your features before his head dips and he brushes his lips to yours.

“No fair,” you whisper against them. “No distractions.”

He smiles but kisses you anyway. It’s soft and quick but still steals your breath.

You recover enough to slip your hands inside his tack vest, feeling around for the handle of the last knife. His own hands begin to wander, one cool and smooth, and the other grazing over your skin in a way that you can feel every callous he’s built from mastering the very blades you’re removing. You shiver in his arms but continue your search, a triumphant smile pulling your lips upward when you find the hidden spot near his ribs where his last knife is safely tucked away.

With practiced deftness you pull it free and set it down with the others then push his vest from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Your lips part to tell him exactly what you want to remove next, but his mouth is on yours before a word gets out.

A gasp catches in your throat at the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his clothing and then again when he deepens the kiss, like doing it is more vital than his next breath. Your hands slide over his biceps, fingernails digging into the bulging muscles as his lips slip down your throat, and he whispers, “fuck, I’ve missed the taste of you…the feel of you in my arms.”

[fireinmoonshot]

maybe one day | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Every time you wake up from a nightmare, Bob is there to help you get back to sleep. This time, however, is a little different. Warnings: Mentions of nightmares and traumatic pasts (nothing specific). It's also fairly angsty. Word Count: 1k A/N: It's been a while! I have been in the depths of a writing slump for the past three weeks or so but Thunderbolts has seemingly brought me out of it. I assumed it would be Bucky that did that but it ended up being Bob... I love him. He's been living rent free in my head ever since I saw the movie last night. I just had to write about him. This fic is just a small one, as obviously it's the first thing I've written since falling into a slump, but I'm pretty proud of it. Bob is very different to write for (especially different to Joaquín who is all I've been writing for lately) so I hope I've done him justice. I look forward to continuing to write for him!

The bedroom is still dark when you wake up. The only sign that you’re not alone in the room is the faint silhouette of someone sitting in the armchair at the end of your bed and the steady sound of fingers tapping against the material of the chair. Strangely, the presence isn’t scary but comforting. There’s only one person it could be. 

“Was I having another nightmare?” You ask. 

You’d woken up to the feeling of your bed shaking gently. It isn’t an unfamiliar feeling – you’ve woken up this way several times in the past few months. It’s Bob’s way of waking you up without shaking you awake himself.  Using the most minimal of his powers to help you.

While he’s not in control of his powers, he can’t risk hurting you. Even just holding your hand could send you into one of your worst memories. And like all of the other members of your team, back in New York you’d been forced to live through them all because of the Void. 

Since then, you and Bob had become closer. You’d all moved into the old Avengers tower now that you were the new Avengers. Bob’s room had been across the hall from yours. He’d heard your screams from the first nightmare and had been there to wake you up from them  almost every night since. Most nights, he sits by your bed to keep you company until you fall back asleep. It’s not the most efficient way to help, he knows. But the last thing he’d ever want to do is to accidentally send you back into the memories that had given you so much trauma.

“You were.”

You sit up properly in your bed and reach out a hand to turn on the lamp that sits on your bedside table. The bulb is dull, only bright enough to bring a dark yellow glow to the room but it’s enough for you to be able to see Bob. He looks exhausted.

“Have you gotten any sleep tonight? What time is it?” 

“I slept a little,” he nods. “I don’t know what time it is. Three a.m? Four, maybe.”

You stifle a yawn and run a hand through your hair. It’s thick with sweat, courtesy of the nightmare you’d been having – though you’re thankful that you don’t remember exactly what it was about tonight. “You should go back to sleep, Bob.”

“I will when you do.”

For a moment, you simply look at him. The way he looks at you despite his exhaustion doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You can see the worry in his eyes, the way his eyebrows are drawn and his lips are a little pursed. You want nothing more than to crawl to the end of your bed, reach out a hand and tug him up so he can crawl into bed with you and hold you while you fall asleep. But you know that he’d never allow himself to do something like that.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask anyway.

Bob hesitates, opening his mouth and then closing it again before he shakes his head. “You know that I can’t. I can’t until I know I can control it. I won’t put you through that again.”

“I’ll put a pillow barrier up,” you offer. Bob lets out a small laugh at your words. “I mean it, Bob. I want you to stay with me. Not on the chair at the end of my bed, not on the floor. In the bed, beside me. If you can’t hold me, that’s the next best thing.”

Bob sighs and stands up from the chair before heading around to the opposite side of the bed and pulling back the covers. You smile to yourself as you grab an extra pillow and place it in the middle of the bed. Once your head hits your own pillow again, you can look right beside you and into Bob’s eyes. It’s the closest you think he’s ever let himself get to you. 

“Can I try something?” You ask, voice soft.

He nods once, though you can see he’s a little concerned that you might be about to rip down the pillow barrier and latch yourself onto him, as if you’d ever do something like that without his consent first.

You raise a hand, palm towards him, and smile as you see him raise his own hand. He moves it towards yours, just hovering it next to your hand. You can almost feel the warmth radiating off of his skin. His hand is so close to yours that you could move the smallest bit and brush your fingers against his, though you restrain yourself. 

“I wish I could hold your hand,” Bob mutters quietly, voice a little muffled by the pillow.

“Me, too,” you hum, watching as your hands dance close together. “I want to know what it feels like to touch you. To have your fingers entwine with mine. To feel your skin against my skin. Is that weird to say?”

Bob shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I want that too.”

“Maybe one day?”

He looks away from your hands and meets your eyes. “One day.” It’s not a maybe. It’s a certainty. Once he can control his powers. He removes his hand from the air and tucks it underneath the blankets. “You should sleep now.” 

“I will when you do,” you murmur, forcing yourself to keep your eyes open as your hand falls onto the pillow in-between the two of you, a sudden wave of sleepiness overtaking you.

Bob smiles to himself as he watches your eyes flutter closed and sleep takes hold of you. He’s glad he stayed. Even if all he wants is to push the pillow away and pull you into his arms. Even though he’s probably not going to get a wink of sleep while he lays beside you, too content with just watching you sleep, seeing how peaceful you look.

But as long as that pillow stays in place, you’re safe. Until he can control his powers, this is the way things have to be. To keep you safe from the nightmares. From the Void. From him. 

[weaselle]

love these additions! And it's something i wish more people would pay attention to when choosing a pet, because there are several breeds that exhibit this attribute, sometimes called selective disobedience or intelligent disobedience, and in all these breeds it is a feature, not a bug.

the classic example (and one close to my heart) is a siberian husky. Imagine you are sledding and your route takes you over a lake that is thickly frozen over at this time of year. You tell your dogs to take the sled over the ice, knowing that it is a safe route in the winter. But what you don't know is that last month there was an unseasonable thaw and the ice is much thinner than usual. So when you tell your dogs to take you and your heavy sled over this thin ice, you WANT your dogs to refuse. Right?

you don't hear any traffic so you tell your seeing eye dog to take you across the street, but there's a near-silent electric car coming... You tell your hunting dog to go into the bushes and flush out game but there's a bear napping in those bushes... and of course, livestock guardian dogs, who you do not want waiting around for orders, but deciding for themselves what they should do when completely unsupervised.

There are all kinds of reasons you'd want this feature, and there are quite a few dogs bred to have it. Poodles for example, are considered expert-level-only hunting dogs by many experienced hunters for this reason. They are meant to think for themselves, solve problems, assess situations, and make choices. Golden retrievers, on the other hand, are NOT meant to be as independent.

I've been working with a siberian husky for the last few months, and building a relationship with her to where she doesn't just flick an ear to show she heard me and then do whatever she wants to do anyway, instead of what i'm asking her to do, has taken real effort.

There are three major issues i see with people getting dogs these days

A: i wish people would look at what a dog was bred for and assess whether or not they can provide some version of that activity. I'm working with a beagle right now whose owners do zero sent play (leaving scent trails or hiding treats easter egg style) and are not interested in doing any, and it's like, of course your dog misbehaves on walks, he's driven to fulfill his need to Investigate The Smells, and he was bred to literally pull a human on a leash along interesting scent trails. If you give him an opportunity to do those things in a positive way, he won't be stuck with the choice of ignoring his deepest desires or "misbehaving" as his only options. Gods, the people really are the hardest part of training dogs. Too many people don't even look into the breed's purpose at all, they'll get a doodle because it's cute and never even think to ask what the two breeds were meant to do.

B: Human lifestyles and canine lifestyles used to be a ven diagram that was much closer to a circle. We used to both live in the woods and hunt creatures and defend territory. Even farming or ranching is not too far from this lifestyle. It has been a great match up for a long time. But now, modern™ society has us living in a way that is much less of a match up. Clients want me to train their dogs not to bark, and are not encouraged when i explain that we spent literally thousands of years asking them to bark more, actually, so it's going to be an uphill battle. Humans used to have very physical lifestyles, and it use d to be much rarer to spend a day where your dog couldn't be with you all day doing normal dog behaviors. Now our lives are full of very strict and confining rules of behavior we expect from a dog, and yet people are spending less time than ever socializing/training their dogs to be functioning members of their own pack. It's sad.

C: people assume certain breeds, like labradors and golden retrievers, are "easy mode" dogs, which is kinda true except they have a completely unreasonable expectation of what "easy mode" looks like. It's like a person who has no idea how to work on a car getting a car based on it being the easiest to do mechanic stuff to it, but never learning how to do mechanic stuff. Then they get upset that it keeps breaking down and they can't fix it.

Anyway, uh, thanks for coming to my ted talk i guess, lol

Anatolian shepherd dog puppy in training

[fuctacles]

prev

The drinks Steve had make them stop at a gas station midway back. Wayne doesn't intervene when he sees Steve stroll inside, but when he leaves and detours to the left, he raises his eyebrows and stubs out his cigarette to follow him.

He finds Steve with a payphone pressed into his ear. Letting the curiosity get the better of him, he leans against the wall nearby, and when he gets spotted, Steve smiles wide and wiggles his fingers at him. Wayne wiggles back, realizing Steve may be more drunk than he thought, so he comes closer.

"Who are you calling?" he asks in a whisper. 

"Eddie," Steve answers, leaning heavily against the flimsy piece of plastic shielding the phone from the elements. Before Wayne can react, someone picks up. "Hi Eddie," Steve croons into the speaker. "No, we're alright, I just wanted to talk to you--We're having fun." His eyes meet Wayne's while Eddie is talking into his ear. "Why can't I sleep with your uncle?"

Wayne presses his lips together. He hopes it doesn't end up in a bigger argument, because no matter what his dick may think, his relationship with his nephew comes first, always. 

Steve motions him to come closer. He hesitates for a moment, but steps into the cover of the phone booth.

"You can do what you want, really," he hears Eddie's voice on the other end. Even through the line, he sounds pissed. "I just don't want shit to be weird after. How are we supposed to hang out if I know you fucked Wayne?"

With a slight delay, Steve nods against the receiver. 

"But I'm--" He licks his lips, conflicted, glancing at Wayne again. "Eddie," he sighs, whines almost, like he's asking for something.

Wayne frowns, now wondering if there's something more than horny hormones fighting for attention in Steve's brain. 

"What?" Eddie bristles. "You're what?"

Steve huffs in frustration.

"I trust Wayne," he says eventually, eyes darting to the man in question and cheeks going pink. 

There's silence from all three of them.

"He's a good man," Eddie agrees with a sigh. "Just... Whatever you do, I don't want to know about it."

Steve frowns. 

"I won't do anything that would upset you." In his periphery, Wayne nods in agreement, though he doesn't seem to want to let his presence be known.

"Dude, I'm already upset!"

He winces. 

"Okay, fair. " He wets his lips, thinking how to appease his friend. "We should hang out, just the two of us. No Wayne, no Robin, no kids."

"Sure. That would be fun." He doesn't sound appeased at all.

The phone beeps in his ear, letting him know his time is up.

"Okay, uh, see you soon."

He hears Eddie make an affirmative noise before the line cuts off. Wayne eases the receiver out of his hand to put it back on the cradles. 

"He'll get over it. Come on, let's get you home."

Steve doesn't seem thrilled at the idea, but follows Wayne to his truck anyway. 

Once on the road with no safe way to jump out of the car, the older man clears his throat. 

"You said you trust me, on the phone."

"Mhm," Steve doesn't look up, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. 

"What's that about?" he prods. 

It takes a while for him to answer.

"It's about men. Obviously," he scoffs tiredly. "I make a move on the wrong one and get my teeth kicked out."

"So I'm a convenient queer, huh?"

"What?! No!" Steve turns towards him, but lets out a relieved huff seeing his small, teasing smile. "You're cool and nice, and a good looking guy. Are you fishing for compliments?" he quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Well, if you're offering them..." The man grins. "You're not so bad on the eyes yourself."

Steve snorts, looking away to hide his blush.

"Thanks."

"Can't wait to tell everyone the cool kid thinks I'm cool, too."

"Don't be such a dad," Steve laughs, and the atmosphere finally lifts. 

"Hey."

"Hm?" 

"It's been a while for me, but I know some bars we could go to," Wayne offers as they approach the Welcome to Hawkins sign. "You could find someone else to trust.  And I could make sure you're safe."

Steve's been dozing off, but suddenly feels wide awake. 

"You'd be my chaperone at a gay bar?" he asks incredulously. 

"More or less," Wayne nods slowly. 

"Why?" Steve frowns. "What do you get out of it?"

"Peace of mind? Knowledge that one more queer kid is being safe?" He half-shrugs. "I may not be an active part of the gay crowd, but we should still look out for each other. And I feel partially responsible, as the first man you made a move on."

"Gosh," Steve grins sheepishly, feeling warm inside from Wayne's words. And outside, around his cheeks specifically. "You're such a dad."

"Shush, kid."

"This is not helping my crush, for the record."

"Oh, it's a crush now?" Wayne smirks.

"Shush, dad."

"I'll remember to mention it at your engagement party in a few years."

.

.

.

.

.

Five years later

"Oh no." Steve watches Wayne stand up from the table, hesitating with the spoon he's holding against the glass before deciding to go with the good old fashioned whistle to attract everyone's attention. A sudden memory flashes through his mind, but maybe...

"Now, don't worry..." Wayne sounds like the two drinks he's had already hit him. Steve told him he doesn't need the extra shots in them, but he didn't listen. "I'm not about to spring another mushy gushy love story on ya." He grins and someone, probably Max, murmurs a thanks to god. "But I want you all to know that this started because Steve was trying to hit on me five years ago."

"Oh god," Eddie groans next to him, sliding down in his seat. 

"And my boy got so jealous he barely spoke to me for a month. Tragically, it took him another month to figure out he's into men."

Someone snorts and Wayne grins. Only the top of Eddie's head is visible over the table now. 

"Exactly! But we got here all because of this," Wayne points a thumb at himself, "hot old man." 

And he winks, terrifyingly, at someone on Steve's side of the gathering. He doesn't catch who, though, but maybe that's for the best. There's a fiancé he has to fish from under the table anyway.

tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94 @divinelyjude @marklee-blackmore  @ajeff855 @holyangelstudentuniverse @dauntlessdiva

[sturnsblogs]

DEADBEAT

Fratboy!Chris X Toxic!Fwb!Reader

—

Chris had been helping around your apartment like it was his full-time job. He cleaned more than you did. Did the dishes, mopped the floors, vacuumed, wiped down the counters—even folded your laundry with that terrible little smirk like he was the best boyfriend in the world.

He wasn’t, technically. You weren’t even sure what he was to you now.

But still, he was there.

Every night.

He stayed over almost every evening now, claiming the couch at first but somehow ending up in your bed more times than not. He woke you up every morning with some kind of breakfast—sometimes just cereal in a chipped bowl, other times pancakes shaped like animals, with uneven blueberries as eyes. You never asked for any of it. But he did it anyway.

He kissed your forehead every chance he got. Rubbed your back when you were nauseous. Held your hair when you threw up. Whispered stupid little compliments like, “You’re still so fuckin’ pretty, even when you’re hurling into a Target bag.”

It was weird.

Sweet, but weird.

You didn’t know how to feel.

Especially today.

You were supposed to be getting ready for your first appointment, and Chris was acting like you were eight months pregnant with twins and not barely two weeks along.

He had already laid out your clothes—leggings, hoodie, fuzzy socks. He was fussing in the kitchen about something when you stomped in and rolled your eyes.

“Chris,” you said flatly. “I can dress myself. I’m not dying.”

He glanced over his shoulder, unbothered. “Didn’t say you were. Just figured you’d wanna be comfy.”

“I can decide what’s comfortable,” you snapped.

His brow twitched, and he turned around fully, towel still in his hand. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I just don’t need you babying me every two seconds.”

“I’m not babying you,” he said calmly. “I’m just helping.”

“You won’t even let me carry the fucking laundry basket,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “I’m not disabled, Chris.”

He raised his hands. “Alright, damn. Sorry for wanting to make sure the mother of my child doesn’t pass out trying to lift a pile of t-shirts.”

You let out an annoyed sigh, grabbing your hoodie from the couch and tugging it over your head. “I’m not even two weeks pregnant. Can you chill?”

Chris grabbed his keys and looked at you with his mouth slightly open, like you’d just said something insane.

“You don’t know that,” he argued. “We haven’t even gone to the appointment yet.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” he said, following you as you stormed into the bathroom to fix your hair. “You’re over here acting like it’s not a big deal—”

“I never said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well, you’re acting like it,” he replied, leaning on the doorframe. “Like I’m crazy for wanting to take care of you.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a second, brush mid-air. “You never did before.”

That shut him up.

The silence stretched between you, thick and awkward.

You set the brush down quietly and leaned against the counter. “You never acted like this until I was pregnant. And now you’re doing dishes and folding socks and waking me up with fruit bowls like…” You trailed off.

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“Like we’re some happy little family,” you whispered, biting the inside of your cheek.

Chris stepped closer, enough that you could feel his presence behind you but not enough to touch. “I’m trying,” he murmured. “I know I was shit before. I’m not trying to play house. I’m trying to be there—for you, and for the baby. Even if it’s early. Even if it’s small. I don’t want you doing this alone.”

You blinked fast. “I don’t even know if I want to do this at all.”

That made his stomach drop—but he didn’t argue.

He just nodded. “Then let’s go to the appointment. One step at a time. No pressure. Just information. Just… answers.”

You finally looked at him. “You’re still not carrying the damn laundry.”

Chris smirked. “We’ll see.”

The ride to the clinic was quiet at first. The kind of quiet where every little sound felt louder than it should’ve—the AC humming, the turn signal clicking, the occasional thud of the car passing over a pothole.

Chris had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his knee, thumb twitching like he wanted to say something but kept second-guessing himself. You were staring out the window, arms crossed, chewing on your thumbnail.

Then, he broke the silence.

“You ever think of names?” he asked casually, like it wasn’t the most terrifying question either of you could bring up. “Like… if it’s a girl. Or a boy, I guess.”

You blinked slowly, jaw tightening.

He continued without noticing your change in expression. “I always liked the name Luca. Or like… Mila, if it’s a girl. But I don’t know. That’s probably dumb.”

You let out a bitter laugh and turned your head toward him. “Seriously?”

Chris glanced at you, confused. “What?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Quit acting like you aren’t gonna be a deadbeat dad.”

The words slipped out fast, venom laced in every syllable.

Chris’s hand on the wheel stilled. His entire face went blank—eyes straight ahead, jaw clenched so tightly you saw the muscle twitch. He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask you to explain.

Didn’t laugh it off like he usually would.

He just… went quiet.

And that silence hit way harder than any yelling ever could.

You looked back out the window, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said it. Not because you didn’t feel it in the moment—because you did. You were scared, overwhelmed, angry at everything. But watching the way his whole demeanor changed made something in your chest twist.

The rest of the drive was silent. Uncomfortably so.

Even when he pulled into the parking lot, he didn’t say anything. Just turned the car off and sat there for a second, staring at the dashboard like it had answers for him.

You finally looked over at him.

“Chris—”

He shook his head. “Let’s just go in.”

But his voice was hollow now.

And the guilt settled heavy in your stomach as you followed him into the clinic, the waiting room smelled like hand sanitizer and old magazines. A baby cried somewhere across the room, and you tried not to flinch.

Chris sat next to you, arms folded, legs bouncing restlessly. He hadn’t said a word since pulling into the parking lot. Not when the receptionist handed you the clipboard. Not when you muttered a half-hearted apology while filling out your name on the forms. Not even when the nurse called your name.

Now, you were both sitting in the little exam room. Sterile walls. A crinkly paper sheet on the table. The faint sound of a monitor beeping in the next room over. You were sitting up on the table, feet dangling nervously, while Chris sat in the corner in the little plastic chair like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You watched him for a second. He hadn’t looked at you once.

“Chris,” you said softly, forcing a small smile. “You’re really gonna sit there and ignore me in a gynecologist’s office? That’s kinda cruel.”

Nothing.

You tried again. “Remember when you told me you thought ultrasounds were, like, sci-fi movie stuff? You were so scared it was gonna show the baby waving.”

Still nothing.

You sighed and picked at your nails. “Okay, I get it. You’re mad.”

Still nothing.

You bit your lip, voice going quieter. “I didn’t mean it. What I said in the car. It was a shitty thing to say. You’re not— you’ve been… good to me. Better than I ever expected.”

He finally looked up at you, and his eyes were tired. Really tired.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “You meant it.”

The door creaked open before you could respond, and a kind-looking nurse stepped in with a clipboard and a soft smile. “Hi, Y/N? Ready to get started?”

You forced a smile and nodded.

Chris didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

Even when they told you everything looked fine. Even when they said you might be further along than expected. Even when the doctor turned the screen and pointed out the little fluttering heartbeat—he just sat there. Quiet. Numb. Like he wasn’t in the room at all.

When it was all over and you walked out with a printed photo in hand, you looked at him.

“It’s real now,” you said softly, holding up the ultrasound.

He glanced at it for a moment.

Then looked away.

And you didn’t know what hurt worse, his silence, or the fact that, you were starting to feel truly alone in this.

The ride home was silent.

No music. No small talk. Just the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of a turn signal clicking. Chris kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. You sat with your arms crossed, the ultrasound photo burning a hole in your lap.

You didn’t say anything when he pulled into your spot.

Didn’t say anything when he turned the car off.

But when he got out without waiting for you, that’s when the sinking feeling started again.

You trailed behind him, keys jingling nervously in your hand as he unlocked your door and stepped inside. The place looked exactly the same as when you left it—blankets on the couch, his hoodie draped over a chair, an empty glass on the counter.

Comfortable. Lived-in. Yours and his.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he walked straight into your room and started gathering his things.

Your voice cracked the silence. “What… what are you doing?”

He didn’t look at you. Just grabbed his charger from the wall, the sweats he left on your dresser, the cologne you always secretly used when he wasn’t around.

“I’m gonna head home,” he said quietly. “Give you some space.”

“Space?” You blinked. “Chris—what? Why?”

He finally looked at you. And he looked tired. Not just tired—defeated. Like today knocked something loose in him and he hadn’t been able to recover.

“Because I need it,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t wanna say something I can’t take back.”

You swallowed hard, stepping toward him. “You don’t have to go. I—I’m sorry, okay? What I said in the car, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just being defensive. Scared.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But it doesn’t change that it stuck.”

He turned, walking toward the living room with his stuff in hand. You followed him again.

“Please don’t leave,” you said, voice quieter now. “I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone.”

He paused.

You watched his shoulders rise and fall with a shaky breath. His back was still to you when he finally mumbled, “Alright. Just for tonight.”

He dropped his stuff by the door and sank onto the couch, leaning back with a long sigh. You stood there, frozen for a moment, unsure if this counted as a win or not.

Later that night, the apartment was dark and quiet.

You couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned under your sheets, the silence somehow louder with the distance between you. And when you finally got up, your feet padded softly across the floor until you reached the living room.

Chris was lying on the couch, facing the back cushions. His chest rose and fell slow and steady—but you knew he wasn’t asleep.

You hovered for a second, then whispered, “Chris?”

He didn’t move.

You stepped closer. “Will you come to bed?”

Still nothing.

“Please?” you said, and this time, your voice cracked. “I can’t do this alone.”

He rolled over slowly. His eyes were glassy. Tired. Quiet.

But he nodded.

Didn’t say anything. Just stood, followed you back to your room, and climbed into bed beside you. And when you curled into him, pressing your face into his chest, he wrapped his arms around you like it was the only thing grounding him.

Neither of you said a word.

You just laid there, skin to skin, heartbeats mismatched—but together.

The only sound was the distant hum of cars outside and the ticking of the cheap clock on your nightstand. You lay curled into Chris’s chest, but he hadn’t held you the way he usually did. His arms were around you, sure—but not tightly. Not protectively. Just… there.

That hurt more than anything.

You shifted slightly, pressing your face closer to the soft fabric of his hoodie. And then the tears came again, slow and silent this time, soaking into the cotton. You didn’t want to cry. Not again. But it was like your body couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it, Chris. I was just scared.”

He didn’t say anything.

You moved your hand up to his chest, resting it there gently like it might tether him to you somehow. “You’ve been so good to me. I just— I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m ruining everything.”

He exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound that didn’t quite count as a sigh.

“Chris,” you whispered again, voice cracking, “please say something. Please.”

You tilted your head up, your lashes still wet, and looked at him in the dim light filtering through your curtains. His jaw was tense, lips pressed into a line, eyes unfocused as they stared at the ceiling.

He finally spoke—quiet, calm, and unreadable. “Go to bed.”

That’s all.

“Chris,” you said again, desperate now. “Please—”

You leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth. Soft. Hesitant. Your lips trembled against his skin.

But he pulled back.

Your stomach dropped.

His eyes flicked to yours for only a second, and there was no malice there. Just hurt. Deep, quiet hurt.

“I’m not ready to pretend everything’s okay,” he said softly. “Not tonight.”

And then he turned on his side, back facing you.

You lay there frozen, eyes wide, heart aching. You wanted to say something—anything—but the lump in your throat made it impossible.

So you just stayed there. Alone in a shared bed.

Staring into the dark.

And realizing that this kind of pain didn’t come from just anyone—it came from someone you loved.

—

A/N- @sturniolosymphony you said him not her

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[yuons]

THE CHASE, they only need your attention

🐳 downbad! enha x f!r .. 12OO+ 也 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒

윤 : hi ! gf sruka and caelita gave me ideas 💌

HEESEUNG

“hi pretty, did you miss me?” his low drawl from beside your ear made you jump. when you catch the familiar voice you quickly school your expression into a scowl.

“what do you want, lee” you say with faux apprehension, even though your lips were twitching in amusement. heeseung tilts his head, sliding his hands into his pockets, “you.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes, slightly pushing past him before his arm slides to your wrist, “come on, angel, just one date? if you hate me after it you can humiliate me in front of the whole school.”

the offer sounds tempting, really, heeseung’s image was one of the things he always been serious about, “and if i don’t hate you?” you try, a flash of interest cross his pupils.

“if you don’t, then, maybe consider dating me?” he grins, pulling you closer by your arm. you press your hand on his chest and let your eyes linger there for a while before flicking up to his. your finger tracing lightly on the hard lines of his chest through the shirt before pulling away, leaving him flustered, “we’ll see.”

JAY

“you know, you’re quite good for a newbie,” you look up from your guitar notes splayed out in front of you, jay’s figure towering over yours. he pulls a chair near you and invites himself to your space.

a small pout forms on your lips, “you’re assuming i’ve never played before.” jay’s eyes go wide and he stumbled over his words, “wait, that’s not— i was— i didn’t mean it like that! i was just—“ he cuts himself short when your laughter fills the space.

and god, does he want to bottle that sound for himself to keep. your chuckles die down, before you smile at him, “i was just messing with you, and, thank you by the way. my skills are kinda rusty, but i’m trying.”

“i can teach you,” jay blurts out before thinking. only a moment later after he saw your raised eyebrow and the amusement dancing across your eyes did he realize how eager he sounded, “i mean, if you want of course— i’m willing to help you.”

you smile at him, “okay then, see you..?” you trail off, suddenly jay feels stupid for never introducing himself to you, “jay.”

your smile widens at that, “alright, nice to meet you, jay.”

JAKE

“need some help there?” jake smiles watching you struggle with a question. you press your lips together, albeit your heart was starting to pick up its pace.

“no, i’m fine,” you quip. a second later, you feel him slip into the seat beside you anyway. you sigh when you feel him staring at you, “i said i could do—“

your words get caught in your throat, he’s looking at you with that stupid smile of his. grinning so wide that you were contemplating on whether to disappear or to just kiss it away. maybe then he’d be the flustered one.

“hm? you staring now, pretty?” he says, and you quickly look away. brain trying to make sense of the words you’re reading. but when you feel him slide closer to you, slowly grabbing the pen out of your hand. he writes down the formula for you without a word. all you can think about is how warm his hand is when it brushes over your own.

SUNGHOON

“you make this look so easy,” you say, attempting to balance on the ice. sunghoon, whose a few steps away from you just strides comfortably.

“that’s because i’ve had years of practice,” he retorts. you told him you could do this yourself and even though he’s pretty sure you can’t, he let you go and silently watch you from afar.

“hey, actually this might not be that—“ your foot slips in the ice and you were bracing for impact until you feel a hand on your waist, grounding you, “steady” you feel his voice by your ear.

sunghoon helps you balance yourself again and glide back to the edges, stepping back on land. “you okay” he asks, brushing off the ice that got on your leg. just then did you realize that his hand hasn’t untangle itself from yours.

SUNOO

you feel his hand before you see him, your hair being ruffled into a jumbled mess. you pout, letting out a soft groan when feel him plop down beside you.

“morning sunshine,” he smiles, holding back a laugh at you very visible pout. your hands come up to pat down at the ruse, “i just brushed it a few minutes ago, do you always need to greet me that way?”

“i was trying to distract you,” he says, eyes twinkling. you deadpan at him, “from what, my piling stacks of homework?” the unfinished paper stares back at you mockingly.

sunoo chuckles, voice soft, “exactly, winding down for a minute won’t hurt.” you bite your lip thoughtfully. and he thinks it’s unfair how you look so pretty even when you’re running on a few hours of sleep and probably too many energy drinks.

he hears you sigh and mumble out a ‘fine’ before laying your head on his chest. sunoo freezes for a moment before letting his hand carve through your hair. “you’re warm,” you mumble and he’s already planning on not moving an inch for as long as you stay there.

JUNGWON

for once, jungwon wished you’d congratulate him. he watches you talk with the others and hug your friends right after they got their awards for winning the debate competition. so when you reach him, he was looking at you expectantly. he adorns a tiny smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“nice play, yang,” was the only thing you said before moving on to talk to the girl beside him but he stops you, “that’s the only thing you’re gonna say to me?”

it was quite comical seeing his face fall, the glasses on his nose sliding off a bit before he pushes it back up and stare at you with a pout.

“what else do you want me to say?” you muse, crossing your arms over your chest, watching him open his mouth and close it again before huffing. “i don’t know— you were congratulating the others, don’t i deserve one too?”

you let the silence fall over you. the reverence of what he said lingering in the air. for a moment, jungwon regretted ever saying anything. but then, you laugh. and god was it pretty.

“congratulations, won, you did good,” you smile, brushing up his glasses that has fallen once again. jungwon’s eyes follow you as you move on to the next person. well now he simply just needs to win every competition there is, only if it means having you congratulate him.

RIKI

“don’t get used to it,” you scoff. at your voice, riki turns to see you smiling, handing a cold bottle to one of his teammates. the guy’s hand comes up to ruffle your hair playfully and you quickly slap it off.

“your dirty hands are gonna mess up my hair,” you say before glancing to your side. “oh, hey ki,” you catch the slight frown on his lips. he disregards you for a moment before turning to his teammate, “coach called you.”

“really? i didn’t hear—“ he quickly cuts off, “he told me.” you catch the tone, it was unnecessarily sharp. when riki turns to you, you have your own pout.

“what was that for?” you say, his eyes flicker from your lips back to your eyes. “why’d you fetch him water?” he lets slip, lips pursing right after.

your brows furrow, and then a second later it relaxes and your eyes widen like something had just dawned on you, “you’re jealous.”

riki frowns at that, “what? no i’m not, why would i be?” he doesn’t stop there, “it’s just, why would you get him water out of nowhere, do you owe him some—“ you cut him off by pressing a kiss to his cheek. pulling away as quick as you did and chuckle at him like nothing happened, “dont worry, he’s my brother.”

taglist is open + daily clicks

[cunty4hee]

──𝘼𝙎𝙎 𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙄𝙏𝙎? ✶ written thoughts

hyung line x fem reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: suggestive!! contains sexual themes MDNI english is not my first language! wc: 785

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋’𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒: OKAYYYY IT’S HEREEEEE wohoooo thank u anon for requesting this and thank u to my wife @jaeyunologyy for letting me cook this up in her chat love u baby!!!! Anyways enjoy ↓ & requests open

𝘏𝘌𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘜𝘕𝘎: He’s definitely both a ass and tits guy. He just radiates that vibe. He’s so in love with you and everything about you is perfect to him. He himself can’t even answer to that question if u asked him that. He loves to slap ur ass and spank it till its red but he also loves to grope your tits and leave hickeys on them 😞 It also depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s just feeling soft and he wants to lay on top of you putting his face on ur tits and leave soft little kisses on them. Then some days all he wants to do is play with your ass!! He’s very touchy in general too and he needs to have his hands on you all the time. Your his little princess and he needs you close <3

Honorable mention Heeseung is also a thigh guy. He LOVES ur thighs and especially when u wear pretty skirts just for him :3 sometimes hes lazy and so needy that he just wants to fuck ur thighs. This man also absolutely loves your eyes. Your eyes are the prettiest eyes to him obviously. He loves having eye contact with you. He loves when you shy away from his gaze. And when you look at him with those needy, loving and adoring eyes.

𝘑𝘈𝘠: He's a 100% ass guy literally argue with the wall. There’s just something about ur ass, it’s so soft and perfect to him. He loves to slap it, spank it and squeeze it. He’s also that type of guy who wants to touch you all the time. So with Jay u can expect endless slaps and little touches. Oh and bending over infront of him is dangerous, u can’t expect anything else but to him literally just fucking u right there. He does NOT care. He’s also such a tease omfg, he will ask u to cuddle with him, beg u till u say yes because you know where that usually ends up in. It starts sweet at first only some light touches but not long after u find him fucking u from behind cuddling u closer to his chest.

Honorable mention Jay is obsessed with your hands. Your hands are so pretty to him. He loves especially when u get ur nails done :3 It’s just something about it, he gets so needy. How can he not imagine those pretty hands wrapped around his cock or your pretty nails scratching his back

𝘑𝘈𝘒𝘌: Needy puppy <3 to me he’s just so needy and down bad for his girl that he genuinely doesn’t have a preference. He loves all of you and he just can’t choose. He will take anything u give him and that’s that. He loves ur ass and he loves ur tits. I also strongly believe that this man has an oral fixation. He loves having ur tits in his mouth but u can most definitely expect him to be also just gnawing ur ass. Now the rest can be super touchy yeah but jake? No this man genuinely cannot be without you or touching you😭 He’s not scared of pda and that’s something the rest will tease him of.

Honorable mention Jake is absolutely obsessed with your lips. He loves kissing you and he loves when you give him kisses all over him. Kiss his jaw and it’s almost embarrassing how fast he gets worked up from that. He also loves when u give kisses all over his pretty hands and face :(

𝘚𝘜𝘕𝘎𝘏𝘖𝘖𝘕: He is just greedy… definitely a tits guy tho. He loves ur ass but he leans more towards a tits guy. This man loves titjobs. Will always ask u to give him one and who are u to decline such a request? There’s just something about his cock being squeezed between ur pretty tits. Loves to see his cum on ur tits so much, he almost cums again untouched when he sees that 😭 He’s also very very touchy but he likes to keep it minimal when u guys are in public but when u guys are alone? It’s different. He loves to have his hands on ur tits like with him u don’t even need a bra, he has ur back. It’s uncomfortable anyways, so problem solved he holds them for u. He sees that as a win to both. He’s also big on marking you, so u can expect a lot of bite marks and hickeys on ur tits <3

Honorable mention Sunghoon is obsessed with your neck. He also loves to leave marks there. He may pipe down the pda in public but that doesn’t mean he won’t still make sure that other people know u are his. Also loves to wrap his hand around ur neck :( whether it be in a sexual way or just in a comforting fluffy way.

[satorupi]

part 2 of innocentgf!reader asking experiencedbf!satoru how to give him a handjob

sum! - things escalate a little past learning how to give your boyfriend a handjob now that he has you in his lap..

c/w! - all smut, any storyline is in pt 1 (click here !! or ^^)

"gonna make you feel so good."

satoru's words send a proper shudder through you, giving him a shaky sigh against his lips as you dip to return his kiss. no need to even beg when he'd give you all you wanted in a heartbeat.

your hips cant forward in a deliberate grind and your moans sync, mingling in the space between your lips. your movements are a little unsteady, but so what? you'd moved past the silly embarrassment at being on his lap like this, only few layers keeping you two apart.

"you're…you're getting hard again," you breath out, pulling out of his space again just to chance a glance down, catching your lip between your teeth at the sight. satoru's chest heaves just a bit as he watches you, throat bobbing in a harsh swallow. long fingers flex on face as he nods at your observation, still trying to maintain his composure. why does it feel like he's the one falling apart when you're the one with no experience? "doesn't it hurt?"

"not yet, no." his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, “you’re doing great, keep moving just like that. nice and easy.” he said he'd make you feel good and he's never been all talk no action. satoru's hands lower to grip your hips again, gently spurring on your movement back and forth on his lap. not enough to overwhelm but enough to have your abdomen curling in the best way, pressure to your clothed heat against him increased tenfold it seems. your breathing shudders, glancing up at him again, hands hugging tighter around his neck, keeping eye contact with him.

not having sex doesn't mean you don't know how an erection works. you press your weight down into his chest to get him on his back, hips lifting off just enough to let his erect cock spring closer to his stomach with a gentle smack before you're seating yourself again -- against the underside this time with a shudder, "t-there. don't wanna..break it or something."

he snorts under his breath, hand sliding up the softness of your tummy, slightly rough fingertips toying the top hem of your little sleep shorts, looking at you in silent question. you're so sweet and soft when you whisper your confirmation that he has to take a long breath, fingers gliding under the band of your shorts, tips exploring new skin reverently.

he doesn't push past the other layer of fabric, merely slides his hand down the front of your shorts, your own hips tilting to make it easier for him to touch you like this. he can feel the heat of you as he cups you through your panties — the slick, soaked press of fabric that sticks right to your skin, face getting all hot in his arousal when he feels how wet you already are, soaked straight through. "all this for me? got my pretty baby all worked up from watching?" he sounds breathless, more than you maybe, shifting his hand to cup you fully.

your face burns hotter, nodding anyway. your expectations for how you'd feel having him finally touch you doesn't come close to the reality. his thumb eases down onto your sensitive clit through the sodden fabric slow and easy and you barely bite back a cry, softest circles drawn against the bud.

“I know, baby. feels good, yeah?” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. your own eyes flutter, forehead dropping onto his shoulder, hips shifting to get closer, to get more almost greedily. "grind on me just like that, I got you." so you do. you keep up with your grinding on his lap. satoru’s going slow as you he can, thumbing your clit over your damp panties, murmuring little praises in your ear. his wrist is wedged all awkwardly, angle all wrong -- but neither of you can bring yourselves to care.

it's everything and nothing all at once. perfect but not completely at the same time and you just want to feel more, finding yourself needing exactly that. "satoru, please.." it's like he already knows what you need -- both of you actually. his hand pulls out from where it's shoved down the front of your pants and you barely go a moment without his touch before his hands are on you again. thumb hooking at the side of the fabric of both the shorts and the gusset of your panties to bare you properly with one hand, other dragging two digits through the slick mess of you easily.

you jerk with a choked sound, clutching at his broad shoulders, lowering onto his chest to press your face in his neck. "fuck," he groans, breath catching. "you're so…god." he sucks in a long breath, counting in twos in his head to keep himself from blowing like a virgin at the sight of you bare. it's hard not to when he's never seen you like this, this intimately.

it's almost too much, the way he parts your folds so gently, like he's trying to coax you open for him. "ooh, 'toru." your hips jerk, little pants warming the side of his skin as you twist and shift -- he doesn't have a free hand to even try to keep you still. one swipe of his finger along the sensitive underside of your clit has you bucking into him with a gasp, rolling directly onto the lengthy shaft of his cock. bare this time, completely different from doing it clothed.

it's almost hilarious how you both tense up, how his stroking halts.

"baby—" satoru rasps, and you're sure you feel him stiffening even more under you. your laughter comes airy, not from humor exactly but from how caught off guard you are. your hips roll again just to test the feeling out, breath skipping at the heavy press of his dick against where you're most sensitive. you can feel everything. the weight of him. the pulse of the vein you'd ran your tongue along earlier. how hot and solid he is. "ooh…my fuck.."

he seems to catch himself when you moan against him, fingers keeping your folds parted, your own hips not halting for a second. arousal smears down the girthy length of him, puffy folds so slick he's practically gliding between them. your hands plant near the sides of his head for more leverage as you chase a feeling you didn't know you needed badly till now, chasing the rapidly rising heat in your belly.

"oh shitshithshit--" not quite eloquent but you can't put into words how good it feels. so close to being inside you but not at all -- but your body reacts like he is. all he is is just thick and heavy dragging against your cunt, head barely catching on your entrance and you're already losing your head.

your hips roll again, dragging your clit right along the underside of his cock and it takes everything in him not to grab your hips and rut upward into your warmth. takes all self control he has left.

“satoru,” you moan, all reedy and sweet.

scratch that. apparently he doesn't have that much control left. not much at all.

he groans low in his throat, keeping you spread against his shaft. the now freed hand slides up to your hip, around to cup your ass. "gonna make it feel better. gonna make you cum.." then he's spurring you into motion. moving you harder along his cock, pressure enough to have you moaning into the air, squeezing his shoulders. "that's it..grind on my cock." the light squelching between you is almost obscene, but satoru doesn’t seem to mind — not with how he’s groaning through clenched teeth, with how he's subtly bucking his hips up into the paced movement of your hips.

you’re flushed, breathing hard between moans, trying so hard to keep your composure. but your thighs are shaking now, coil pulled taut in your abdomen. and it's painfully obvious to him. satoru only pulls you harder back and forth against his shaft, letting your soft clit rub all over him, letting you rut faster. "feels so weird. so weird.."

"yeah?" he hums, face in your hair, memorizing your scent your sounds. "good weird or bad?"

“good. good,'toru.” you whine, broken. “i—i think…”

"i know, i know. y're doin' so.." his hand squeezes the fat of your ass where he has you held, hips bucking up a little harder, cunt slippin' and sliding against him, "so good. be good and cum on me, hm?" his grip is greedier now, no more pretending that he has any bit of control right now. not when you're slick and messy on his dick, making noises in his ear. his balls feel like their drawing tighter by the second and all he can do is pseudo fuck you harder and whisper filth in your ear. if grinding feels this good, he can't even begin to imagine what sex with you--

he kills the thought immediately, harsh throb at the base of him spine a clear warning.

no thinking of sex with you while he's minutes from cumming, got it.

but it’s already too much. you’re panting, shaky in his hold, whining softly each time your clit drags just right along the underside of him. every catch of your entrance on the bulb of him only makes things worse. your fingers slide up into his hair as you quiver, kissing along the side of his face, practically babbling as your entire body tightens up with your impending orgasm.

in one, two beats, an angled grind against your core, your hips stutter -- lips parting against his flushed skin as your breath punches out of you in sob. the pressure in your abdomen bursts like a supernova, orgasm crashing over you like it’s trying to drag him under with it.

“oh fuck—look at you,” he groans, pulling back a little to watch you fall apart with wide, reverent eyes, pupils blown so wide it’s like they’re swallowing the blue.

satoru stands no chance, really. you're still rocking like you don't even realize that you are, looking the way you do…

"baby--" his head drops back, jaw clenched as he cums just seconds after you, hips bucking up once, twice, as his release spurts hot and glossy on his abs between you two. he shudders beneath you, riding it out with slow, involuntary jerks of his hips, groaning against the side of your head like the familiar warmth of you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

you stay like that for a second, both of you trembling, stuck in that suspended daze post orgasm. “…holy shit,” he mutters finally, voice hoarse, nose brushing the side of your cheek as he nuzzles in close. “you okay?”

you manage a jerky nod between all your shaking, face pressed up in his neck. "d-didn't think it would.." feel that good? be this messy? you're not quite sure. a slight unconscious shift of your hips has you whining in your overstimulation, hands grabbing at him. it feels like air would be too much against the flesh right now.

"I know, let me just.." he eases the fabric of your panties and shorts back over your heat to help with the sensitivity, thick arms banding around you to keep you to his chest. "did so good for me. made me lose my mind, baby."

you both know you should clean up -- everything's sticky between you, rapidly cooling against you. but it feels so nice to just lay here post…well, pseudo sex. or maybe this counted as the actual thing, you're not quite sure where the line is. neither of you make any moves to get off each other yet, though.

satoru's head tilts to kiss your temple again, hands smoothing up and down your back under your tee. "guess we're a officially past the make out stage." you flush with his comment, breathing out a laugh into his neck. maybe a little past making out, yeah. you're far too sheepish to meet his gaze currently, face remaining pressed into his skin.

you don't take count but it feels like ages before you're sitting up off him, climbing off his lap on wobbly legs. "let's just…we did this already so maybe we can shower now," you pause, chewing your lip as you mull over the words bouncing around your head, "together. now."

as if he'd ever so no to that. he's rolling out his spot immediately to scoop you up with enough ease to make your breath catch. "shower it is, then."

sena's note: took a little but here we are! 😼 wasn't quite sure how to escalate but I don't think this is too bad.

[earlgreylatte]

Loverboy

(Kyle Rayner, Peter Parker, Johnny Storm x Reader) When they’re really into you.

Kyle Rayner:

It was clear to anyone that Kyle was particularly indulgent to your whims, lenient and giving in a way that was reserved only for you. From creating constructs of flowers, animals, and beloved characters to see your face soften with joy to drawing mpreg fanart of whoever wronged you (usually Batman) to ease the scowl on your face.

There’s a certain gentleness in his touch, as if unsure if you’re real, if you’re permanent. So when you find yourself nude and lying on your stomach as Kyle applied barrier spray to your back, humming softly as music played from his chipped CD player, your breath could only hitch at the feeling of his hands moving across your skin with a firmness you’re not entirely used to.

“Still good? Not too cold?” He asks, hands rubbing at your side comfortingly.

“I’m fine, just hurry up, will you? If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, the longer this takes,” you complain with a huff, burying your face into the pillow Kyle placed for you.

You hear his laughter ring from above you, and you already know he has the same dopey smile he always gets whenever you mouth off to him.

He joins you on the bed, rolling his paint cart closer, his knees straddle either side of your bottom as he hovers above you, grabbing a paintbrush.

You flinch when you feel the wet paint spread across your skin before stiffening.

“Relax,” he mumbles, free hand moving to rub at your scalp.

“Focus,” you chide.

He sighs before continuing as you clench your fingers against the sheets.

“You need to stop squirming,” He says, pulling the brush away.

“You know I’m jumpy,” you reply, before shifting to turn back to look at him, “Why do you even want to do this? I’m going to wash it off, anyway.”

“That’s, uh,” he seems to fumble for a moment, tossing his brush back into a cup of water, “Artistic expression is…fleeting! And you, my muse, are the canvas——and you have a nice back…”

A beat of silence passes before he coughs, “You know, you’re usually pretty lax after I tire you out, so if you want to finish this quickly…”

“I knew it was a sex thing,” you say, as he shuffles back a bit more bracing an elbow next to your head, so he can nuzzle his face into your hair as a hand dips between your thighs. His chest brushes against your back, and you huff, knowing he was going to have to restart.

Even during moments of firmness, at least he was more than willing to make it worth your while.

Peter Parker:

The sheer depth of Peter’s brown eyes never fails to drown you, intense enough to have you freezing in your tracks. And right now, they had you hovering at the door frame of your shared room.

“You’re freaking me out with those hunter eyes, Pete,” you cross an arm over your chest, your brows furrowing. With how still he was, you’d have thought he was lining up a gun to a deer.

He jolts, snapping out of his reverie, before sheepishly coughing, “You look—— well, there’s a reason why Johnny says you’re out of my league.”

You fiddle with the blue hem of your sheer babydoll, “Ha. Ha. Such a charmer, you are.”

His eyes soften before he envelops your hand with his, “You really are beautiful, makes me want to keep you all to myself.”

“Okay, that’s enough of your mushy shit,” you deflect, but he only squeezes your hand with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, really, enough to make flowers bloom when you walk by—“

“Ah! I’m going to be sick, eugh!” You cry, pressing your hands to your ears, but he only laughs, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting.

You plant your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him with a scowl while he only smiles up at you, “Just beautiful.”

“Loser,” you scoff.

With four brisk steps, he reaches the bed and bends to gently deposit you onto the sheets, hands sliding up to caress your thighs before kissing you with a contented hum, lips moving against yours languidly.

“Peter,” you try to say between kisses before finally nestling your fingers into his hair and pulling him away, “We’re doing this for a reason, you know.”

He groans pitifully before pulling away to grab his camera from the closest, “As cold as ever…”

“This was your idea?”

It takes him another second before returning to your side to fix your hair and smooth out your gown. “Some things are easier said than done, clearly.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re used to toughing things out,” you grin, pushing him away, forcing him to move to stand at the edge of the bed, fingers moving around his camera, adjusting the settings before pressing it near his face.

“Definitely going to buy you more of these,” he decides.

“The perks of being a CEO after getting hijacked; buying lingerie,” you laugh, leaning back on your hands.

“Smile,” he teases.

You furrow your brows, shooting a petulant glare at the lens.

“Perfect,” you can see him bite his lip to resist grinning, and a flash goes off.

“Peter?”

“Yes, bug?”

“You have my permission to masturbate to these if I die.”

“…let’s stop talking for a while.”

Johnny Storm:

While the media loved to depict him as someone that lived in a world of flashing lights and gold, Johnny’s a romantic at heart, the type of guy that wants to settle down and dote on his own kids. So it’s no surprise to anyone that actually knows him, that Johnny’s kind of whipped.

A single glance is enough to deter him from his usual mischief, much to the continued amusement of his family.

He’s sweet on you, he always has been, according to Ben.

You weren’t entirely sure of that, knowing Johnny had a habit of diving in headfirst when it comes to love. You’d never doubt his sincerity, but his optimism was a different story.

But in a rare show of vulnerability, he was more than willing to show that the two of you were something he was willing to stake everything on.

Despite what others may think because of his easygoing disposition, you would never find a more devoted partner, with Johnny more than willing to shout his love for you from the rooftops for all to hear.

…Or just posting about you everyday, every innocuous pic having a caption alluding to you. Yes, that’s definitely less embarrassing and not as likely to have you face Sue’s exasperation.

Johnny’s soft at his core, warm and safe, like a fireplace to seek comfort from on a cold, winter day. That is more than apparent when he has you splayed on his bed, his hips stuttering against yours, as hitched breaths and gasps filled the room.

The only thing you can focus on is his warmth, from the heat of his fingertips gliding against your skin, to the elevated temperature of his length creating a sensation deep inside of you that has your mind going blank.

“Tell me I feel good,” he pants against your neck, a crack of insecurity in his tone, “T-tell me I’m good—“

Ludicrous that he could doubt himself when he had you feeling so much of him, having you only being to focus on how hot he is, and how good he feels—

“So good, you’re so good for me, Johnny,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, “you feel so, mm, good—“

“I love you, fuck, love you so much,” he near whimpers, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck as you both come undone.

Yes, this was a side of Johnny only you were privy to.

“Down, boy!” “Arf!” is so Johnny coded…

Masterlist

[hearts4hughes]

honeybee riding rafe on the back of his truck after a long day of bickering and arguing

𖥨᩠ׄ݁.ི𒂭۪۪۪۪᳝۟ honeybee!reader

warnings: mdni ; pinv ; switch!reader ; switch!rafe

“you done running your mouth now?” rafe asks, leaning back on his elbows, boots kicked up on the back of his truck like he owns the whole damn farm…and you.

you shoot him a glare, chin tilted up in that way that drives him absolutely insane. “maybe i’m just getting started.”

he huffs a laugh, eyes dragging down your frame with no shame, tongue poking at his cheek like he’s trying not to grin. “figured. you talk all day, but never say anything useful.”

you climb up onto the tailgate anyway, ignoring how his eyes track every move you make. “maybe i wouldn’t have to talk so much if someone actually listened.”

“oh, i listen,” he says, low and full of smug certainty. “you just don’t like what i hear.”

you sit across from him, arms crossed, legs dangling. tension crackles in the quiet. the heat like summer lightning. he taps his fingers once against the metal.

“you gonna keep pretending?” he asks after a beat. “keep acting like you don’t want this?”

you raise a brow. “what exactly do you think i want, cameron?”

he grins, slow and infuriating. “me.”

you laugh, sharp and stubborn. “wow. someone’s full of himself today.”

“nah,” he shrugs. “just observant. i know that look. same one you had last week, pinned under me in your room, tryin’ so hard not to fall apart.”

you bristle at that because he’s not wrong and he knows it. god, he always knows it. “you’re delusional.”

he pushes himself forward, crowding into your space without touching you. “you’re a terrible liar.”

“you’re insufferable.”

he leans in closer, voice almost a whisper now. “you’re still here.”

you swallow hard.

he tilts his head, eyes dark, amused. “so what’s the excuse now, honeybee? gonna tell me you climbed up here just to insult me some more?”

“maybe i like watching you suffer.”

he grins wider. “oh, i’m suffering all right. poor me. stuck out here with a girl who wants me so bad she’s practically shaking with it.”

you scoff, defiant, even as your breath catches.

he reaches out, thumb brushing your jaw, and it’s almost too gentle. “you can fight me all you want,” he says softly, “but we both know how this ends.”

you don’t respond right away. you just stare at him. he’s the boy who drives you absolutely mad, who reads you like a favorite book, who always, always gets under your skin.

and when you finally make a move to jump down from the truck, he’s already pulled you against him, trapping you under his body weight.

“get off me, rafe.” your voice cracks towards the end. your face doesn’t match your words. “before you do something you regret.”

“i’ve never regretted a single thing with you, honeybee.” he presses his lips against the bare skin of your chest.

you scoff, not falling for his sweet nothings. you grab hold of his arms and within seconds, you’re straddling his hips. “who’s in charge now?” you tsk, jutting your pouty lips out.

“oh, princess of the farm likes to take control? i don’t buy it.” he laughs, deep and hardy. “you can’t even take the trash out without complaining.”

“oh, you shut your mouth, cameron.” you begin to unbutton his jeans, sliding the zipper down smooth, and tugging them down his muscular thighs. “you’re nothin’ but a way for me to get off.”

his smirk deepens, his hands removing your shirt as you berate him. “keep goin’, you’re turning me on, sweetheart.”

he’s letting you have your little power trip because he already knows how it ends.

you shoot him a look, one he probably deserves, but he just grins wider, smug as hell. hands behind his head now like he’s lounging at the beach, not under you in the middle of nowhere with dirt on his jeans and sin in his smile.

“you’re so full of it,” you mutter.

“full of something,” he fires back, cocky as ever. “and soon you will be too.”

your jaw ticks. you hate how easily he gets under your skin, how every line is a taunt wrapped in a dare. and worse, you hate how your body betrays you for it.

he feels it. you know he does. because when your hips shift, his hands snap up to your waist like instinct, like claim.

“yeah,” he murmurs, voice lower now, like it’s just for you. “that’s more like it. stop pretendin’, honeybee. you like it when i run my mouth.”

“only thing i like is shutting you up,” you shoot back.

he chuckles, breath hot against your collarbone as he yanks you closer. “then do it.”

you take the bandana from around his neck and place it in his mouth like a gag. your hands reach down into his boxers, pulling himself out. he bites down against the gag, the slight breeze in the air only adding to the overstimulation. his hips buck as you rub up and down his cock.

the next article of clothing to go is your lacy thong. rafe’s heart skips a beat as his tip brushes against your folds. you let out a deep breath, rubbing him against your clit.

his complaints were muffled by the bandana between his lips, causing you to smirk.

“what? have something to say, cowboy?” you taunt, sinking down on just his reddened tip. his eyes roll back, hips stuttering, eliciting a giggle from you. “didn’t think so.”

finally, you lowered yourself on his dick. he squeezed her thighs hard enough to leave bruises—you’d have to lie to her daddy about that later. he stretched you to the brink. your mind was flooded with pleasure and pain. your hadn’t even started moving and your legs were already shaking.

“why do douchebags always have the biggest dicks?” you moan as take his last inch.

a smirk possessed his face at your words, his ego growing as he finally admired the view. you were on top of him, clad in only a bralette and cowboy boots, taking all of him inside of you.

it became increasingly harder to contain himself. all he wanted to do was flip you over, pin you down, and make you forget your own name. he wanted to consume your thoughts. he wanted all of you.

when you finally adjusted to his girth, you started bouncing up and down. you threw your head back, hair wild against the wind. you stationed your hands on his chest and arched into him. every time your pussy clenched, his breath stuttered.

“you like this, rafey?” you feigned innocence, moving faster up and down. he bit down hard, using all his strength not to nod. instead, he gripped your waist hard and began thrusting up into you. his pace was fast. skin slapping and moans filled the empty space surrounding the two of you.

“holyshit,” you gripped his biceps, making crescent shaped indents in the skin. his cock bullied your g-spot, hitting it each time he pushed back inside. every thrust knocked the air from your lungs.

he grunted against the fabric, moving his hips back against yours like he needed it. your walls were velvet around his greedy cock. it ached inside of you, molding you to each and every vein.

the elastic band in your stomach began to snap. your reached down to thread your fingers through his hair. he pulled you into a bear hug, fucking you roughly through your orgasm. and when the band snapped, the remnants dripped down his length. still, he held your limp body in his arms. it wasn’t long until he was emptying his seed into your womb.

you climb off him slow. your smirk from before gone as you tug your shirt back on without sparing him a glance.

“told you,” he murmurs, ripping the bandana from his mouth. “you can play boss all you want—’til the real one shows up.”

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @13hischiers @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles

[postmoe]

One Step at a Time. Yandere Anaxa

I have had the worst fucking week. Rather than going into the grief and financial disasters of it all, I also lost my 50/50 and my 75/25 to this man so FUCK YOU ANAXAGORAS.

forced kiss, kidnapping, self-deprecating reader

.

He's reading some hardcover book with no title. His eyes idly scan across the page though his expression shows no interest. Worst of all, he's leaning against the toilet door so you can't get in. You tried to walk away to use the other one, but he only grabbed you and pulled you back. That happened four times before you stopped.

"This is ridiculous," you huff, crossing your arms in frustration, "I'm about to piss on the floor."

Anaxa briefly raises his gaze to yours, "What's ridiculous is that you won't do this simple thing. You'd rather urinate on yourself than give me a kiss? Childish."

Your cheeks heat up, eyes unable to focus in his direction, "You don't get it! It's not that easy for me. My lips are really bad right now anyway..." Your tongue swipes them before your fingers lift up to touch the dryness and cracks in your skin. You've always been hyper aware of your flaws, it's why you closed yourself off for so long.

Being kidnapped and held hostage by this psycho has only raised your anxieties. It was only a matter of time before he got fed up of you ignoring his advances, so he came up with the brilliant idea of 'transactions'. You want to sit in the garden? Only if you hold hands. Hungry? Sit on his lap for a few minutes so he can hold you. Now you need to pee and he wants you to kiss him, which you've done before, but he added the word 'tongue' to the receipt and you're just not ready for that.

He's not taking your excuse. Your body jumps as he slams the book shut with one hand, pushing off the door to stand intimidatingly before you.

You try to hold your own but you're shaking like a leaf in Autumn, just before it falls. You think you will fall if you don't calm yourself soon. Anaxa finally speaks up, making no move to touch you or bring you closer, "Patience isn't my virtue, but thankfully I make up for it in my stubbornness. I'm not so grossed out by bodily fluids that you're getting out of this. However, you may not enjoy the lesson I have planned to speed up your progress if you fail to try yourself."

With a heavy frown, you hold your hands tightly to your chest, scenarios running wildly in your head as you try to decipher his sentence, "What... What does that mean? What lesson?"

There's no change in his face, nor his stance, yet you can feel the excitement dripping off every word, "I'm quite handy with rope. If I get you naked and examine you thoroughly, then you'd have no reason to hide anymore. It's my ideal outcome, though I do care about you enough to take in your consideration as well."

How ironic. It's just a kiss, just a little tongue. And honestly, he is the monster who has stolen you away, why care about what he thinks at all? If he's disgusted by you then that's his fault for not doing the research! So, with this new - barely there - resolve, you step closer and place your trembling hands on his chest. Awkwardly, you lick your lips and stand on the tips of your toes, "F-Fine. Just one kiss."

Anaxa's hands start by gently cupping your hips, where did the book go?, and pulls you closer so that your chest is against his. His lips meet with yours, ready for your jolt as one of his hands holds the back of your head so you don't squirm away once his tongue touches your bottom lip. Your little yelp is cute to him, his other hands large and pressing warmly between your shoulder blades. Eventually, you stop trembling so badly, relaxing into his hold while your tongue shyly moves against his once he enters your mouth. You expected it to be warmer, the muscle cool, wet and countering the warmth of his body to yours.

Once he declares it's enough, giving you a squeeze before allowing you to pull away, your face is red and gasping as your teary eyes look to his for confirmation. You have to swallow the built up saliva before you ask, "Can I go now?"

He doesn't want to let you go, he wants to keep kissing you until your head goes fuzzy and your legs give out. He wants you underneath him and crying out his name as he fucks you so good that even leaving his embrace feels like a sin. Why won't you just fall for him like he did for you? And they call him blasphemous. His thumb rubs soothingly against your bottom lips, pushing the plump flesh down and letting it bounce back tantalizingly. His voice is low, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth, "I love every part of you. Don't worry yourself so much. Not with me. One day, you'll see how silly all of this really is."

Finally, he leaves you alone. You hear his footsteps distancing as you try and gather yourself. It's inevitable, whether you like it or not, he will go all the way with you. You just have to try and make this last as long as you can, if not for your own sanity then your pride as a captive.

You can be stubborn, too.

[mysterymachine67]

PAIRING -> Robert Chase x M!reader

SUMMARY -> Giving him a quick hj in a random closet before getting back to work.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

You shoved him into some oldish looking closet. You didn’t know what it was used for, not that it mattered, but it looked like it held a bunch of random things. Anyway, you had a horny, needy boyfriend you needed to ‘attend’ to. Robert grabbed you, pulled you impossibly close, and pressed his lips against yours. As well as wrapping his arms around your torso. He groaned and chased after your lips when you pulled away, that same groan died down to a wince when you bit his lower lip.

Your hands worked quickly to undo his belt, fumbling with the buckle a few times. “Hurry up,” he urged. Cock throbbing and pressing against his pants.

“You can wait,”

“I can’t. I have to—“

You shut him up in the perfect way, and he couldn’t even argue. Your hand was around his cock, pumping a few times dry before removing it and putting it up to his mouth. “Spit.” And he did, making sure you got enough. Ohhhh the sound that fled from his mouth you couldn’t get enough of. You wanted to fuck him right here, make him scream your name and have everyone know what was going on. Watch as your cock disappeared into him, cum dripping from his hole. And maybe even—

Woah.

You had to stop yourself, otherwise the two of you would be in here for far too long than you needed to be. You knew he’d been pent up in some way. Based on his attitude lately and the way he’s been responding to people. So you finally decided to do something about it. “Mmm..“ his head went back and hit the wall.

“Leakin’ all over. How long have you been wanting this, baby?”

“Too long.” He grunted. If Robert’s sounds don’t get you guys caught, the loud squelching sound made from your hand moving up and down his cock will.

“Why haven’t you told me? Y’know I would’ve changed my schedule.”

“Didn’t come across my mind. Can you hurry—“

“Dr. Chase, I know what I’m doing.” You teased. Though he didn’t find it funny. Only giving you a look when you turned your head to look at him. You traced a vein, hearing a gasp and watching as his hips bucked lightly.

“M’close.” He whined. You thought about fucking with him even more—maybe stopping your hand till he begged and pleaded for you to continue. But he seemed to really care about time right now. So you decided otherwise. Robert’s hands reached out quickly to grasp at your shoulders. He looked down, taking in the sight of your hand moving along his cock. Though when he got closer and closer he moved his head and tilted it back. Hips thrusting into your hand as his orgasm washed over him. White spurts of cum shooting from his cock and getting onto his clothed and your hand. He was loud enough that if someone were to walk by they’d hear. Which you didn’t care but you’re sure he did. Robert huffed and his chest rose up and down quickly. When he calmed down he looked down at his clothes. “Oh god..I can’t go out like this.” You smiled, then proceeded to wipe your hand on his clothes. Now even more was on him.

“Oh! Seriously?”

“Yep.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

All this talk about Leona's / Vil's chest makes me think of ... This. I just got the art book for my bday, went to check Leona's section and got hit with THIS... In front of my mom too 😭😭 (she didn't read it but. HELP)

6 UNDONE BUTTONS BUT MAKE SURE TO AVOID SHOWING TOO MUCH SKIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 they really put a bunch of buttons on it just for him to have them open but not show "too much", huh...

W-what the hell. Sure. W-whatever.

[Referencing this post!]

Average L*ona reaction to someone pointing out his loose and/or lack of buttons (taken straight out of his School Uniform vignette):

Ah, yes... That infamous note from the art book 😭 (<- has known about it for years and chose not to make a public comment unless prompted)

OKAY, but to be fair (*grips Riddle by the head like he’s a melon I am testing for ripeness*) take a look at a character that wears the Ceremonial Robes properly:

The black undershirt has a somewhat high collar. Additionally, the buttons seem to be spaced very close together. The white dress shirt for the NRC school uniform has more standard height collar and its buttons are noticeably farther apart than those of the ceremonial robes.

This means you would have to unbutton MORE buttons on the ceremonial robes in order to show the same amount of skin as in your school uniform. For example, what is 6 buttons on the ceremonial robes is only 2-3 buttons on the NRC school uniform. Like so:

My guess as to why that note in the art book exists is because they wanted to call attention to the spacing of the buttons being closer, meaning that 6 buttons being undone would still roughly have the same amount of skin showing had it been 2-3 buttons on the school uniform. They probably didn't want whatever artists were working on the Leona Ceremonial Robes initial artwork to get confused and accidentally show more skin due to the button count. (6 buttons undone on a regular shirt would show much more skin!)

While I was researching this I SWEAR TO YOU THIS WAS NOT AN EXCUSE TO STARE AT KINGSCHOLAR'S CHEST FOR LONGER THAN IS SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE, I realized that there's an inconsistency in Leona's Ceremonial Robes initial art and his live 2D model?? (This shouldn't be a shock though, considering that there's plenty of details in the card art that don’t always carry over to the live 2D models.)

If you look at Leona’s live 2D, the robes collar is clearly undone (you can see the flaps open). That's... clearly not 6 buttons undone. You can't even see any visible cleavage in the model:

But then???? If you take a look at the card art??? THERE'S VERY OBVIOUSLY WAY MORE BUTTONS UNDONE??? YOU CAN TELL BECAUSE SUDDENLY THERE'S CLEAVAGE OUT AND ABOUT AND WHAT WAS ONCE ONLY JUST THE FLAPS OF THE COLLARS IS NOW SHAMELESSLY OPEN 💀

And when you compare this to other instances in which Leona appears in his ceremonial robes (such as the second anniversary PV and the Twst anime trailer), HE HAS THE COLLAR COMPLETELY OPEN AND CLEAVAGE SHOWING. This leads me to believe that the initial card artwork is the INTENDED depiction, not the live 2D model.

You know what that means, fellas??? IT MEANS BIBLICALLY INACCURATE LION BOOBS FOR THE LIVE 2D MODEL...

ANYWAY. THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ON THIS MATTER, GOOD-BYE NOW 🤡

[captain-huggy-bear]

congrats on 1000!! your writing is so cozy and inclusive and it’s such a breath of fresh air 🥹 ((i feel obligated to mention once again you’ve turned me into a fellow clay girlie🤧))

for the celly - what about “can’t sleep.” “i tried absolute everything but nothing.” pulling you even closer as they say “you haven’t tried everything, i think i can get you to fall asleep” + clay?

I did this in my own way so it's not exactly like the request but I wanted some freedom to work with, I hope you like it anyway <3 1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

You don't make a habit of phoning Clay at 1am when he's sleeping, more often than not overly considerate of his sleep schedule and time. Even when he's told you that you can wake him for anything, even when he's told you it's not a bother, that he wants to be there for you. It doesn't bother him when his phone wakes him up, your contact one of the few that can get through to him past 11pm.

"Wha's wrong, baby?" His voice is gravelly, rough from sleep, blinking into the dark of his bedroom, eyes adjusting to land on Lucky. Lucky who's snoring in his bed by the door, legs in the air, feet kicking.

“Can’t sleep.” You sound frustrated, close to tears like you've hit your breaking point. “I tried absolute everything but nothing is working... I just want to sleep.” You're so tired...frustrated, upset. You'd put your pillows at the foot of the bed, you'd tried white noise and music, you'd tried a warm shower...if you could think of it then you'd tried it.

“Baby, it's okay..." Clay can tell you're maybe one wrong move from bursting into tears and it doesn't help that you're miles away for work, a school trip to Washington DC of all places, in an unfamiliar place and somewhere he can't reach you. An unfamiliar place where you've got the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, trying not to lose a single child each day. All the while there's no way for him to drive to you, wrap you up in his arms like he normally would...his hands are tied almost entirely.

"I'm so tired, Clay...and I have to get up in 5 hours to take the kids to the Smithsonian" Your voice is growing thick with tears, choked as you grow even more frustrated, leg bouncing up and down where you're sat on the edge of the hotel bed. Your forehead pressed into your palm like you could force your brain to start working better.

"I know, I know, hey, you haven’t tried everything, I think I can get you to fall asleep.” His voice is a soothing rumble, the rustle of sheets coming down the line as he sits himself up in bed and turns on the bedside lamp. Your side is cold, empty. Your book gone, your usual glass of water not there. God, he misses you...

"Clay..."

"I'm serious, trust me...get comfy, lie back, head on the pillow...." There's a moment before you move, shifting and rustling the bedsheets as you slide under and into your preferred sleeping position, pillow under your cheek, "You comfy?"

"...Yeah," You don't want to doubt him, but you feel helpless, like nothing is going to get you to sleep...no matter what.

"Okay, close your eyes, sweet girl."

"Clay...."

"Close your eyes, baby." His voice is quieter, a low rumble, just loud enough for you to hear but purposefully quiet. Soothing rather than disruptive. "Closed?" You hum in the affirmative, focusing on his voice, the rasp to the undertone of it, the rumble in his chest, the warmth. Cosy, sweet.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Your hum is enough for him, he doesn't want you talking anyway, just listening to the steady rhythm he sets his voice to, something calming. "I came to your school with the team for some event...I can't even remember what it was for, but I saw you first..."

Your breath quietens at each word, he can hear it, the way you start to relax more on the other end of the line like his voice is a lullaby.

"You were stood in your classroom doorway, it was hot out so you had the windows open and it made your hair blow like you were in some sort of commercial...you were so beautiful...are so beautiful. I couldn't stop staring at you...every time you were in the room my eyes kept going to you and I just...I knew."

Your breath hitches just enough, just the tiniest amount that he knows you're still awake and listening to him ramble on, because really he's started now and he just can't stop.

"I knew you were it, that I had to speak to you...and I...I couldn't stop stumbling over my words when I finally did...walked away and nearly didn't ask to give you my number...had to run back into the school, do you remember that?"

"Mmm,"

"I'm glad I did..." And Clay just keeps talking, and talking and talking...even when he can hear in your breath that you're asleep. He talks until he can't keep his own eyes open, falls asleep without ending the call until you both wake in the morning to the call still going, 5 hours and 23 minutes long.

You're the best thing that ever happened to him and if helping you sleep means talking till the wee hours of the morning? Until he can barely keep his eyes open at practice the next day? Then that's okay because it's you.

[yourstrulyrani]

haii idk if you write for soap but if you do could you do john “id die for you” mactavish x f! “but would you live for me” reader? (could also work with simon if you’d prefer writing for him)

john "soap" mactavish x reader angsty // wc: 1180

a/n: hii can i just say you have perfect timing because i was planning to write about the another 141 boy next!! i'm gonna make this one a little angsty i hope you don't mind 😃👍🏼 also a belated happy national decision day to my fellow americans!! i truly wish you all the best in these next four years ♥︎

He was supposed to come home today. You had faith in him.

You lay on the couch, void of his touch and sweet words to offer you comfort while you fidgeted with your wedding ring, spinning it around your ring finger deep in thought. You thought that for once your husband would actually come home the date he promised he would. You opened your phone to glance at the text he sent yesterday:

Johnny ♡: I'll be home tomorrow, sweetheart. I can't wait to see you.

Then you shift your eyes down to the text he sent a few minutes ago:

Johnny ♡: Sorry, darling. Price needs us a little longer. Please don't wait for me tonight. I love you.

What was once a strong aroma of the dinner you cooked now became a mockery of the devotion and care you held for Johnny. He loved food, especially your cooking. It's too bad he wasn't here to even eat it. Even the “Welcome Home” garland detached from the wall on one side, now hanging vertically. Everything at this point in the house became a mockery to you now. From the fireplace giving out warmth you'd rather have from Johnny, the couch not dipping on one side because he isn't here, and the feeling of your unswollen lips because he is not here to kiss you senseless.

It was late anyway and Johnny confirmed it himself that he wasn't going to be here, so you decided the only way to get rid of these thoughts was to sleep it off. You went upstairs to the bedroom, the room stinging with the scent of his cologne that you sprayed everyday to remember him by. You left the food you cooked on the kitchen island, careless that it would go bad if left outside unrefrigerated overnight. You slipped out of your clothes into something more comfortable to sleep in and pulled yourself under the covers. 

Usually after a few minutes, you were knocked out. Tonight it was different. You couldn’t get comfortable enough. With the covers over you, it was too hot. With them off, it was too cold. When you slept on your side, it was almost as if the pillow was digging into your neck. When you slept on your back, the mattress sank too low. Your mind needed the rest but there was no use to even attempt again when the only thing on your mind is your husband at war. Sleeping without John knowing that he was out on deployment was already difficult in itself, but knowing he was on deployment and that he didn’t come when he promised makes it even harder.

You punched your pillow one last time in an attempt to soften it up. That’s when you thought your ears were deceiving yourself when you heard the door open. It could only be one man.

You froze at the sound with your fist still stuffed in the pillow. You wanted to get up and greet him yet for some odd reason your legs felt too heavy to move downstairs to do so. You heard the rustling of what you could only assume was his duffle bag and some extra gear that he shredded off until you heard John head up the stairs, the floorboards creaking subtly at his weight. You decided to fake being asleep, your head pointed towards the door to get a view when he finally walks in. With his heavy steps and your heavy heart, you heard the doorknob to the bedroom click open and his sounds grow closer. 

He’s here. You should jump in his arms and smother his face with kisses and tangle your fingers in his hair. You should be feeding him the dinner it took you hours to make after you got off work. You should massage him like you do after every deployment. You’re stubborn though and he came too late even though he promised. There is no use for it now, you thought.

That’s when you heard it, a wince of pain out his mouth. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You sat up gently and widened your eyes to finally take a look at your husband. He left scratchless when you last saw him. Now, he’s battered and bruised. A bruise on the curve of his jaw, his eyes squinted in what you knew was exhaustion, and his shoulders were slumped. Your gaze moved from his shoulders to his neck, where wound dressing was applied, which was hidden by the rest of his t-shirt. Your gaze moves down. Down. You saw his arms in the t-shirt and the cut that slashed across his forearm tattoo. Your heart broke. Broke. You felt the tears prick at your eyes and decided to let them fall. Johnny hasn’t said a word and neither have you, but he broke the silence.

“Sweetheart,” his voice sounded just as wounded as his body looked. You didn’t say anything and could only manage to anticipate what he was going to do next. The view of Johnny became more blurry the more tears welled up in your eyes. It wasn’t until you felt  Johnny’s body wrap around yours in a tight hug that you let them fall with your eyes shut closed. You felt his head snuggle into your neck and the stubble prick across your neck and collarbones. 

You laced your arms through Johnny’s to hug him back, one hand rubbing the nape of his neck and the other moving up and down his back. “Johnny,” your voice broke. He said he wouldn;t be home tonight and he’s here now. You didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or thankful.

You felt his stubble move away and be replaced by a light kiss on his neck. “I’d die for you, dear.”

Those words made your heart twist. You kept rubbing his neck and back for your own comfort and you could finally taste your tears. He said that all the time and you knew he meant it. He’d say it sometimes in the morning when you thought you were at your most unflattering. He’d say it sometimes out of nowhere when he would find you on the couch lounging. This time it was different. He was back home from deployment, physically and mentally battered.

Your lips could only whisper one thing because of the saying now that he's home and not in his best condition, “But would you live for me, Johnny?”

That’s when you felt Johnny’s grip around you loosen in the slightest. That’s when Johnny felt his lips quiver. Now you weren’t the only one crying. “That’s why I came home.” He stammered before he continued, “I couldn’t bear it. I had to come home to you.” His voice felt his arms tighten around you again and another kiss was planted onto your neck.

You couldn’t be mad at him anymore. You were just happy that you had another chance to feel your husband in your arms and his lips on your body. Who knew when it would be the last time?

i don't miss the college application process one bit

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[bbiine]

 PINK BIKINI ;

your new bikini awakens something in mingyu,

the lifeguard . 𐙚 " get into the 𝑣𝑖𝑏𝑒

❪ @bbiine ❫ 𐐪ɞ l𝒈 ! mingyu × f! 𝒓ִ w𝒄 /// 𝟣𝟨𝟦𝟨 ׁ summer love !! care ... smut 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕;

✦ ִ Hi guys, this is my first work, I hope you like it! English is not my native language, so forgive any mistakes ۪♡ ⊹ ֗ ꫂ

Since graduation, everything between you had been on hold—it wasn't declared love, but it wasn't just desire either. It was a mixture that burned stronger every night, hidden in your room, with the window ajar for the sound of the waves to come in and his body covering yours, whispering your name between muffled moans.

You were born and raised on Jeju, the beautiful island that everyone loved to visit; many even dared to say that it would be a dream to live there, but not for you, who always felt that Jeju was too small for your big dreams.

That beautiful island was a golden prison—with its perfect beaches, the constant smell of salt and flowers, and the familiar voices that had surrounded you since you were a child. But you wanted more, more than the nights with the sound of the sea and the taste of Mingyu still on your lips.

He, on the other hand, seemed to belong there. Sun in his eyes, sand on his skin, and a smile so wide that it would make any girl forget that there was also a world beyond the island. Mingyu worked as a temporary lifeguard, but you knew that if it were up to him, he would never leave. “We already have everything here,” he would say. “We have us.” But that “us” was never said out loud. Never defined.

The late afternoon sun contrasted with your pink bikini; the beach was almost empty, and you loved the atmosphere; it was the perfect time to relax without being disturbed.

You feel a tap on the shoulder while you're lying in the sun chair with your headphones and sunglasses on.

“I'm not interested; you can leave.” You didn't even bother to take off your glasses or headphones; the day was too good to be ruined.

A muffled laugh echoed from your headphones, and soon afterwards, an all-too-familiar voice said:

"So that's how you treat strangers?, nice manners.”

When you heard him, you felt a shiver run down your spine; it was him, Mingyu.

"I thought you were off today.” You diverted the subject.

“Yeah, me too... but you were absent at the last minute and, well... here I am.”

You took a good look at him, that sun-tanned skin, the defined muscles, and the half-wet hair... it gave you memories of great nights you'd had together.

“By the way, what kind of fashion is this?” Mingyu said, waking you out of your trance.

“What are you talking about?” You said, looking for something different.

"This!” He says, pulling up the strap of his bikini and staring at your body with a familiar look.

“Oh, ’”‘that’”—you say, pointing at the bikini—“is“ the latest fashion, okay?”

“Latest fashion for the one with the smallest bikini,” he teases you.

He'd always been like that; at every opportunity, he'd tease you or fuck you... and that summed up his relationship with Mingyu.

You lowered your sunglasses and said, "And you liked it anyway,” you teased back.

He gave you a sideways smile and lowered himself down beside you, running his hand along the strap of your bikini, feeling the fabric.

"You know me so well, I'd say you chose this bikini especially for me." his fingers wandered over the thin fabric that covered your breast; he had that lazy smile, and you felt every sensation intensely.

"What if it is? You just can't fuck me here on the beach." You gave a wry smile and bit your lip; you knew he could do it, but you wanted to know if he would.

he came closer and murmured his voice low enough to send a shiver down the back of your neck.

"But over there... over there where the life-saving materials are... no one goes in there" he murmured against your neck, his hand not leaving the fabric of your bikini.

You almost objected, saying that he was working, but it was too late; you were already in his hands, and he knew it.

He pulled you by the hand in that nonchalant way, as if the world around you didn't even exist, not even letting you answer and just carrying your cell phone with you.

The warehouse was a small place, with the smell of seafood, but perfect for doing what Mingyu wanted. As soon as you entered, Mingyu didn't wait a second and started kissing your neck, whispering all the nonsense he only knew how to say and making you horny.

His hands were sure, exploring your body with the familiarity of someone who already knew exactly how to take you apart. The muffled sound of the waves outside mingled with your accelerated breathing and his whispers:

"This bikini barely covers you... How could you have the nerve to wear that and not think I'd fuck you the second I saw you?"

Mingyu kisses your neck while his other free hand rushes to hastily remove your bikini top. You let out a short, low laugh as you leaned against the cold wall of the warehouse—the perfect contrast to the heat Mingyu was provoking inside you.

He had already tossed your bikini top somewhere and now had his hands on your breasts, squeezing hastily, "I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered against your lap, his soft lips tracing a slow path down to the center of your chest

"And you come up to me like this... almost naked on my beach."

"your beach? since when?" You teased, trying to maintain some control. "

"Ever since you started cumming here," he said, with that smile that was both arrogant and irresistible.

He quickly removed the other part of your bikini, leaving you completely naked. Mingyu stood back a little and watched you like a work of art; he adored you, and you knew it. Mingyu knelt right there, looking down at you with hungry eyes. - You obeyed.

His mouth descended to your core, while his free hand gripped your breast tightly. Moans escaped your mouth as Mingyu's tongue stimulated your entrance.

You felt him insert a finger as he sucked you off, making you gasp and hold back a moan.

“My princess can't even hold back a moan?” he teased.

He teased as he deepened one of his fingers. You ran your hands through his hair in approval, feeling every movement of his tongue and fingers.

Mingyu knew exactly how to push you to the limit, and you couldn't help the moans that escaped your lips.

He continued to explore your intimacy with gusto, inserting another finger while licking your most sensitive spot. Every move he made made you squirm and moan louder, his hand moving from your breasts to your hip, making you stay in place.

Mingyu stopped sucking you only to say in his husky, dirty voice

“You're so wet that my fingers are slipping out all by themselves...is this all because of me? Because I've been staring at you all day in that bikini?“

”You know the effect you have on me, Mingyu," you say with a smile.

He inserted his fingers again, now with more force and speed.

You couldn't hold back the moan any longer; the scene was driving you crazy. Mingyu's muscles were even more apparent and sweaty, you were biting your lip hard, holding back any moan that came out of your mouth, and this scene was driving Mingyu crazy.

“You're going to have to hold that scream in, little princess...” Your knees went weak from the intensity of the sensations, and you had to hold onto the shelf behind you to keep from falling.

Your body trembled with pleasure, and Mingyu smiled against your core, pleased with your reaction. He felt you squirming and moaning louder and louder; he knew you were close. “Are you going to come already, little princess?” he teased: “I haven't even really started.”

You called Mingyu every possible name, and he liked it because he knew you were close.

“Come on, love...” he ordered, looking into your eyes.

That was the climax, and your body obeyed the order, contracting and falling apart. A loud moan escaped as you released everything, and he drank every drop as if it were the best thing in the world. He looked up to see you throwing your head back, your breasts swaying with the sobs of your own pleasure.

“I could watch this scene every day,” he says, standing up and facing you with a smile.

“We have sex almost all the time, love, don't be dramatic,” you say, teasing him even more, breathing heavily.

“Not almost every day,” he says and squeezes your breast with a proud smile.

Before he could finish what he'd started, your phone rang.

“You're not going to answer this in the middle of the best sex we've ever had, are you?” he says, kissing your neck and moving down to your breast.

“Of course not, I'm going to hang up,” you say, but freeze when they hang up, and then an email notification pops up on the screen.

"Congratulations, you've been accepted to the University of Seoul! Your application must be made in person within 4 working days.

@bbiine ,2025