#because he's bought much for himself in all that time
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xiaprint · 1 day ago
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frat rules | minors dni
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the minute that caleb got his acceptance letter in the mail, you had mixed feelings. there was plenty of pride, so much that it felt overwhelming. he had worked hard from the start and remained top of his graduating class, he was a model student. things were never once handed to caleb but he always managed to make the most with what he had. it was a talent and he did it with charisma, making it impossible for others to pity him. he didn’t like to accept charity or kind favors, so taking everything on the chin with his boyish smile was his signature move.
still, everyone knew what college was about. a stepping stone for a sparkling future career, sure— but the real fun was in the freedom. away from the family and childhood friends, given that golden opportunity to completely rewrite who you were. it was the prime time to drop the formalities and sleep around, get shitfaced, make new connections with people who were thrown into the same situation of the unknown.
maybe it scared you, just a little. he’d be forever away, he’d be establishing new friendships, he’d possibly be dodging flirty advances left and right. the caleb you knew, sweet and doting and utterly in love with every fiber of your being could very well take a liking to the change.
of course, voicing these insecurities and doubts wasn’t an option. caleb had been practically buzzing since he learned that he’d be attending flight school in skyhaven. killing the fun, ruining the good mood— it felt harsh. this was the first time that something was being offered to him without asking for anything in return, the one chance to be selfish and put himself first. you knew that if you said something, he would surely reconsider. that’s who he was.
so dwelling was the way to go. you sulked in private, supported in caleb’s face. you focused on saving face at his celebratory dinner. you counted down the weeks, mood souring as they turned into days. you kissed his cheek once you said your goodbye’s at the airport. it felt like sending off a piece of yourself but caleb was capable of handling himself. he’d be just fine.
however, you were completely unaware of how much he struggled. he was a socialite at heart and had no problem making friends with his roommate, no problem meeting his roommates friends. the classes started up about a week after move in and before long, he was familiar with skyhaven and what it had to offer. caleb blended in perfectly with the atmosphere, content with his professors and the hands on aspect of his training.
despite being miles upon miles apart, he still put forth the effort. he door dashed your favorites around dinner time on the occasion and he tracked your location like a hawk. he facetimed you when he had downtime and picked up every single call even if he was busy. after all, it was in his nature to take care of his little slice of home back in linkon city now that she was on her own.
the adjustment became easier with time for the both of you. life went on, things got hectic. there would be a few days of pure radio silence on both ends because the course load was heavy in flight school and you had your own business to worry about.
holidays rolled in and you finally had an excuse to fly out. it was a deliberate little plan that you conjured in secret, leaving caleb out of the many details. you bought your own plane ticket, took it upon yourself to travel to the academy. things calmed down in your personal life so the time was right, everything in place.
you didn’t, however, expect a guy who wasn’t caleb to answer his dorm’s door. the dots were connected rather quickly when you were reminded that caleb was rooming with another student for his first semester, recognizing gideon from photos posted by the academy’s official socials. it was clear that he had company, a bunch of guys laughing and joking around over bass playing from the tv. your eyes fell to study the can of busch light in his roommates hand, raising a brow.
“is caleb around?”
it takes gideon a few seconds to process your words, especially over the shouting and loud music blaring behind him, scratching his chin before lighting up like a christmas tree. he recognized you from all of the photos, the facetime calls, caleb’s never-ending rambles about his girl back home. “oh shit! he’s gonna be over the moon!”
with some introductions and gentle guidance around the house, gideon leads you to caleb’s room. clean, neat, very little decor. he was a minimalist at heart, only ever taking it upon himself to make things look nice if he knew that you’d be sharing the space with him. you were shocked but not surprised to find caleb at his desk, red solo cup tipped sideways on the wood. his cheeks were flushed as he rests his head against his elbow, bleary eyes staring at the single picture frame by his laptop.
it held a photo of you, of course. taken from his point of view, his hand reaching up to help you off of a tree. all you ever did at the time was giggle and refuse to come down, only worried about keeping your bucket hat on your head.
“i didn’t know my caleb was a sentimental drunk,” your voice coos in his ear gently as your arms curl around his shoulders, tucking your face against his warm face. it causes him to jump, slow in reaction to breathe you in. a few beats pass before he’s shooting up like a rocket to pull your body into a hug. it was snug and tight, his balance faltering a bit.
he smelled. smelled familiar, smelled like aftershave. he smelled like jameson whiskey and spice mixed with home. it lingered on the collar of his dress shirt, black with a popped collar. there was no helping the way you stuffed your face into the fabric, huffing him in and letting the scent pull you in like a riptide.
“why are you here?” he asks softly, reeling back to get a good look at the girl in front of him. he was thankful that gideon read the room for once, exiting and closing the door behind him. “how are you here? i thought you were preparing for a hunter’s exam.”
the flurry of questions is a little out of character for caleb and it’s obvious that he’s a bit tipsy, stumbling over his excitement and need to know. this was the reaction you’ve been looking for after handling the specifics in secret— catching caleb off guard was always fulfilling. he got so giddy, forever easy to please.
“it’s called a surprise, you big dummy,” your voice sounds like liquid honey in his ears, so overwhelmed with love and happiness as he simply stares back at you. a few blinks, really taking you in. it felt as though you matured more since the last time he saw you, growing into your features. it tugged at his heart and he doesn’t even realize the way he’s backing you up slowly, guiding you onto his bed.
it’s hard, very unlike the one back at home. the frame is rough and made of wood, the mattress flat and small. it’s a miracle that caleb can even sleep comfortably on it but he was good at making the most of any situation. the man grew to be very simple, never one to be picky. your head hits the pillow and giggles fly out of your mouth, caleb taking that chance to rain the skin of your extended neck in kisses.
everything following blurs. his friends are still being loud just a door away, chanting as they initiate a stupid drinking game. their endeavors are the last thing on your mind as caleb grinds against your leg, as he kisses you until your lips hurt with the desperate weight of them. he holds you like glass, runs his calloused fingertips along your skin with carefulness. one track mind, only focused on getting you bare against his sheets.
your jeans are a struggle to pull off of your thighs in his inebriated state, groaning softly in annoyance when they get caught at your knees. you assist with a huff of a giggle, unable to ignore the way his eyes flutter at the sight of you. a breathy laugh leaves him at the sight of the pink bow on your panties. “you never change, huh?” he whispers with a shake of his head, expressing his disbelief.
the urge to slap his arm in retaliation is strong but this wasn’t the time and place. there was a heavy amount of tension in the air that needed to be fixed, an ache that he needed to soothe between your legs. the impatience was only getting stronger and he could sense it in the way you pawed at his own pants, swift in the way you pop the button open.
he works at his shirt at the same time, practically ripping the buttons off of the fabric, shoving his sleeves down his arms until it lands on the bed with your top. the sheer rush of flipping you onto your tummy with the brute strength he’s built in the recreation center, of making sure you’re ready with his fingers before sliding inside. it floods you with adrenaline, moaning weakly once his dick finally sinks in.
and oh, he got bigger since you last saw him. you could feel it in his grip strength, holding onto your hips and fucking you back onto his cock. it was inevitable that he would grow over the course of the year but it was so much at once. bigger biceps, beefier pecs, thicker thighs. it had you winded, gasping for oxygen as your cheek rubs against his comforter.
“oh, baby,” he coos between heavy pants of hot air, leaning to hover, pressing his bare abdomen along your arched back. he cages you in like a predator, his chain being the only cool touch as it settles between your shoulder blades. “oh, baby. you got tighter since last time. pussy’s so hungry, baby.”
filth fills the air. skin on skin, the scent of sex and juice and sweat mixing with the apple scented air freshener he has plugged in by his dresser. your moans drown in the fabric of his pillowcase, barely having enough restraint to keep quiet. all you want to do is pull your face out of the pillow, to scream and let caleb know just how good he’s giving it to you. how it’ll never be anyone but him for you, how he’s the only man who can feel you this deep.
not that you needed to know, but caleb had been missing you terribly so. every weekend would be dedicated to partying, his roommates constantly dragging him out for some beer and a good time. he wanted to embrace the chance, he wanted to make the most of his young adult years. still, he couldn’t get out of his own head. wondering what you were doing, who you were talking to, if you were drying yourself off after a shower and keeping up with the show you told him about and watering the bonsai tree he left on his nightstand.
he couldn’t get over the fact that you were alone. for the first time, you were genuinely alone. it saddened him to think of you eating dinner alone, folding one basket of laundry, waking up in an empty bed. this surprise visit was just what he needed to soothe his nerves.
“they assigned me a plane, my very own aircraft,” caleb murmurs into your ear with sensual kisses to the lobe. the pace never falters, guts battered by his tip while he sucks your skin into his mouth. his tongue swirls along it and a groan leaves him as he lets it go. “i’ll show you after this, yeah? take you to my plane and fuck you in the cockpit.”
the pace simply never slows. it’s consistent, steady. his headboard ruts against the wall with soft thuds that would be otherwise extremely noticeable if not for the rowdiness happening in his kitchen. he hasn’t felt the warmth of your cunt in such a long time, hasn’t felt like himself since he left your side. it has him gasping, has his jaw nearly locked open with groans that mold with your own.
your ass rocks so nastily with every thrust, rippling for his eyes only. he can’t resist the urge of grabbing for a feel, watching the skin flood between his fingers. you’ve always been the prettiest, have always been the only girl his eyes dared to study. nothing hits right when it isn’t you, getting off has been a struggle in itself. porn could never capture this.
heat coils in his stomach, knots up in warning. your pussy is soaking him, glossing his thighs and his pelvis. your essence sticks to him like glue, creating filthy smacks each time his hips slap against your ass— just the way he liked it. it told him he was doing his job, let him know that your body loved him just as much as your mind did.
“i missed your cock,” the sound of your broken voice pulls him out of his trance, the pleasure so burning hot that his toes curl in his shoes. you’ve always fed his fantasies like a fire, spiting dirty words right back at him on reflex. you were the most beautiful to him when you were speaking your mind, all he ever wanted was to pick your brain.
“stretching you out just right, isn’t it?” he murmurs sweetly between pants, nuzzling his nose into your hair. the hand you’ve got twisted up in his duvet is quickly covered by his own, sluggishly threading his fingers with yours. “just the way you like it. i’ve been neglecting my baby.”
his words earn rapid clenches from your walls. it makes him shudder, gnawing at his bottom lip in hopes of masking a pathetic moan. the thought of ever straying from this, of having to wait another few months for another chance to make love to you physically hurts him. he wants to make the most of it, wants round after round until your legs are shaking and your body is twitching.
a knock interrupts his train of thought, sends electric shocks up his spine. gideon’s slurred complaint is barely audible through the thick wood of the closed door, the mere thrill mixed with slight panic making caleb shamelessly shoot a thick load inside of you.
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vxnillabxn · 1 day ago
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Hello!! I love your works and can i make a cutesy birthday request, pretty please? (It's my birthday today, 15 July IST)
So, my idea was of a reader who is like, the mainstream hot. Like the huge boobs, perky hips, perfect hourglass shape, rich feminine woman who has multi step hair and skin routine. How would the lads pamper her?
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𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x fem!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, suggestive! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚HAPPY BIRTHDAY! ♡ when i tell you literally woke up early to start writing this so i could make it on time ( ˶•ᴖ•) !! i hope you had the greatest day ever! and i love overly feminine MC's. as an overly feminine girly myself —and a lover of worshipping men— this idea was chef's kiss. thanks for requesting, love! ♡
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𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭
this man will worship the floor you step on.
if you're going out, he'll take care of your entire beauty ritual.
from washing your luscious hair, to carefully applying oils, creams, styling it the way you love it.
he's so precise… always reading your thoughts, even if you change your mind when he's already working on your hairdo.
he'll zip up your dress for you, he'll roll up your stockings, he'll kneel down to put on your high heels.
his hands linger every time, but can you blame him when you look this gorgeous?
he'll even put your jewelry on, one by one.
earrings, rings, bracelets, necklaces…
all bought by him, of course.
sure, he knows you can afford them, but why let you spend your precious money if he can spoil you with little details like these?
also, he'll apply your lip gloss for you, and he goes as far as reapplying mascara for you without you even having to ask.
he's a gentleman.
he'll literally let you step on him if there is a puddle on the floor.
or he'll carry you around so you don't ever have to stain your shoes with filth.
he'll also make sure you don't lift a finger when you two go on dates. you don't have to worry about anything; just on being you.
when you return home, he'll massage every inch of your skin.
sore feet? he knows; he's already kneeling on the floor.
stiff neck? he noticed. his hands will work wonders.
and don't you dare leave the bed.
he'll do your skincare routine for you. after all, he knows exactly how many pumps of product you use, if you move your hands clockwise when applying it, if you rinse or let the product absorb for some minutes…
he has it covered.
and you'll find restocks of your products just before they run out. he is absolutely keeping track of all those details for you.
and while he rinses your makeup and products off, he'll praise you, whispering how beautiful you are, how ethereal, how you're his goddess —and you can definitely hear how shaky and reverent his voice (whimpers) turns.
he also takes you on his private aircraft to the most luxurious places with such gorgeous landscapes.
he'll make sure you see everything from above; as you should, so he'll mostly take you just when the sun begins to set.
he is aware you can have anyone quite literally at your feet, so he sets the bar higher for anyone else.
because who else will worship and pamper you as much as the man who knows you better than you know yourself?
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𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭
by now, he knows every step of your skincare routine because he actually starts using it sometimes.
or because he uses his tender, expert fingers to help you apply the products himself.
he'll also do your makeup, and he always manages to do exactly what you wanted him to. he knows his muse very well.
in fact, he's studied your features, your body, your whole being, either by loving sketches, or by tracing your body gently while you two cuddled.
he knows exactly what suits you, and what products might work on you, even when you're already perfect as is.
i'm convinced this man can get amazing brand deals, and even then, he doesn't really need them, because he'd still be able to buy whatever your pretty lips casually mention.
though, his preferred way of worshipping you is by making you his sole muse.
not even the sea is as breathtaking as you.
the curves of the waves have nothing on you, and that spark in your eyes… and in your shiny lipstick? that gives him more than enough passion and inspiration.
he is so thankful to be able to have you all to himself.
sure, he loves when you two go out and stun everyone with your presence and confidence…
but it is always his arm you're holding.
and it is always his eyes you look into with so much love.
you chose him. you, the one who seeks nothing but perfection, choose him as your everything.
so he'll try to evoke how grateful he is with each careful, loving stroke of your body.
bare, covered up, posing, or during a candid moment… he doesn't care.
now, when it comes to pampering his beautiful pearl, he is literally the perfect man for the job.
he knows the greatest restaurants, he knows the most gorgeous, luxurious places you could visit, and he definitely can pull a string or two to get you the best experiences.
and more often than not, those include taking you to high-end resorts.
or even getting you a private island.
just for the two of you; a little love nest, if you will.
he'll make sure everything is perfect, that your wardrobe has the prettiest dresses and bathing suits. that your bathroom has all the space and facilities for you to keep all your self-care products. that your hair is taken care of before going for a fresh swim in the ocean.
if you enjoy the lavish life, raf is literally more than happy to provide.
if you prefer the private aspect of it, he'll be ecstatic. because you both can enjoy each other's company in your little love paradise.
and he's been yearning to have you in his arms for a long time, so why not indulge in everything his pretty pearl says and asks for?
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𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭
power couple.
both rich, both good-looking, both confident.
although, no matter how rich you are, and how capable you are of providing for yourself, don't you dare spend money on clothes, skincare products, make-up, or anything else for that matter.
why? because that's his duty as your boyfriend.
he's the one who will pamper you, and he's the one to ensure you have everything you want and need.
save your money for emergencies
—emergencies that never happen, because he takes care of everything in advance, so his little kitten isn't in distress.—
on that note, he's the perfect man to go on a shopping spree with.
he'll never rush you.
he'll never act impatient.
he'll never answer carelessly just because he wants you to choose between two options quickly.
no.
he carefully helps you choose; he knows you have your own impeccable sense of style…
but there is this primal need to see you wearing something he chooses for you.
and when you always accept his suggestions, because this man knows his fashion, he's ecstatic.
hence why he buys full collections for you.
he waits for you outside the changing room.
he circles you once you come out, taking in every stitch, how the fabric adjusts to your figure.
and if the clothes don't fit for whatever reason, then the whole brand is worthless for him.
come on, sweetie. help him find something better than whatever that fiasco was.
on that note, i feel he would get the best designers to make things for you.
—and he always has specific requests to gift you later on.
after all, he loves matching with you, so he'll be very clear to the designers. add a piece of him in your clothing, and add a piece of yours in his.
he also has your entire routine memorized. from the products you use during your baths, to the ones you use before sleeping.
and, even when he loves touching you, he'll just watch as you go through your beauty ritual, always so precise, always so graceful.
he'll be leaning against the doorframe, looking directly at you while you look so pretty with the dark and silky nightgown he got for you.
and with the necklace he himself clasped on your neck.
and with the —his— love bites going down your neck, to your shoulder blades…
yeah.
you're so his.
as much as he's so yours.
say the word, and he'll be on his way.
or rather, on his knees. something not even a god itself could make him do.
but for you, his goddess?
he'll do anything.
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𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭
he is the definition of comfort.
he isn't the most flashy nor extravagant, but he is the king of sweet, tender worshipping and pampering.
obviously, he does take you out on well-thought-out dates.
and he is confident with your relationship, and even more so with how breathtaking you are…
but he will establish your relationship in not-so-subtle ways.
his arm is always wrapped around your waist, his lips are constantly finding the crown of your head, and he'll remark every single word with a “my” coming first.
“my girlfriend and i would like some champagne,” or “my pretty starlight asked for no ice.”
obviously, he is always a gentleman about it.
it is not about ownership, in the slightest.
…well. he doesn't own you, he's never thought about it either.
if anything, you own him. completely.
he's just trying to let everyone know you chose him over any other man.
and he isn't shy to spread the word however he can.
on a different note, he will turn your shared home into a spa.
candles, dimmed lights…
all for his princess to relax after being so perfect all day long.
he'll prepare baths for you, with flower petals, different salts, a relaxing lavender scent…
he'll hand-feed you, or even tell you a story in that loving, soft voice of his.
he'll remove your makeup, massage your scalp, praise you as you relax surrounded by the warm water.
and when it's time to sleep, he'll softly take care of your hair.
he'll braid it, never tugging, never pulling any stray strand. no. he is always precise, always careful not to cause you any discomfort.
he will buy the most comfortable yet pretty lace nightgowns, or pajama sets for you.
breathable, comfy, fresh.
and they always smell like clean laundry, too. he makes sure of it.
he also bought the best silken pillowcases for your hair to stay soft, and he changes them after every night without fail, so your pretty face always lies on a clean, smooth surface.
he will massage you to sleep.
no matter how sleepy he gets when he does it, he won't stop until you finally drift off.
soft hands pressing down on your back, lingering kisses on your nape, shaky whispers full of praise and adoration…
and when he makes sure you're finally resting, he'll be finally able to do so himself.
after all, his love language is making you feel safe, making you feel comfortable and relaxed.
because that's how you make him feel.
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𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭
oh zayne, the man you are.
he isn't afraid to show you his love.
yeah, he is very subtle, and he also knows when it is appropriate or when it isn't.
but that doesn't stop him from stepping behind you and carefully zipping up your dresses for you, with his strong hands lingering a bit longer on your body.
he will fix your hair, he will wipe away any lipstick excess with his thumb…
he isn't afraid to subtly fix the straps, either —when you're getting ready, or even when you two are already out on a date.
you're his passenger princess. he keeps lipstick, lip gloss, make-up or anything you might need in his car.
that is your spot; no one else shall ever use it.
he also loves driving while caressing your left thigh. it is soothing, according to him.
but when he softly grips it? you know better.
he knows a fair share of gorgeous and exclusive places; most of them being restaurants or pâtisseries.
he wants you to try different things, most of them sweet and exotic.
he waits for you to take a bite, before eating from the same spoon, all while looking into your eyes.
if you like it, you shall not say more. he'll get the recipe and do it himself.
if you don't like it, why should this place keep it on its menu?
he'll make sure to leave his... feedback, or find a better place.
he will get disappointed if you pay for something, though.
not angry.
he could never get mad at you.
you're his love, his adoration. the reason he works so hard for.
so, even when you can afford to buy whatever it is you want, he doesn't want you to.
he won't let you.
and if you ask him to buy something? he'll kiss your forehead tenderly.
“absolutely, my love.”
when it comes to skincare, he asks so many questions to different colleagues.
he contacts the best dermatologist, he makes sure your skincare routine is appropriate, and he will invest in whatever products they recommend for you.
if you still try to use something that isn't necessary, he'll make you understand why you shouldn't.
he'll softly kiss you, caress your pretty cheeks and look into your eyes, explaining in rather complex terms his reasoning.
his way of worshipping and pampering is by making sure your needs are met, and also to ensure you stay safe.
so, if he says no more exfoliating, then you should listen.
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offdxty · 2 days ago
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Kane had expected these ointments to have been bought, commerically made by whoever made these things in the first place - a drug store, perhaps something similar. He doesn't know what a drug store is, but at the same time he does - another bit of information that pops up out of nowhere, yet is ignored in favor of what's much more important:
Harrow made these himself, it seems. He did not only bring in something he'd found somewhere, collected from another place, but... made them himself. Mixed ingredients together until they would do whatever he wanted them to do---
And Kane feels unexpectedly struck by that realization, which causes his dark eyes to flicker briefly as they widen, taking in the sight of each tin and glass that's pulled out to be shown off to him.
He isn't too sure whether he's satisfied with the extend of the other's explanations - whether he seems to be able to remember enough, or if the sedative that has been given to him affects him worse than what Kane thinks is comfortable, reasonable, humane - so he cannot really think on that too much, not anymore. Cannot judge whether he's supposed to remain skeptical, wary, worried; His focus shifts back to the fact that Harrow brought self-made ointments instead, his voice gentle and kind as he tells about the purpose of them, followed by what is not self-made, but should bring relief anyways.
Heating pads. Painkillers.
Tea, ointments, balms, heating pads, painkillers.
Harrow brought it all in for him, for Kane only - has brought them with him because he'd expected there to be pain, to be injuries. Wants to help, wants to make it better, wants to be there for Kane, not-Kane, it.
Something close to a sob begins to build again, somewhere deep inside his throat; Kane swallows it down, prevents that intense emotion rising behind his sternum from being noticed, licks his split bottom lip instead as he sits a bit more upright - bends his torso to make it easier for Harrow to reach the bruise he's working on...
Because Kane trusts him. He trusts this man to know what he's doing, even when being partially sedated.
It's worse than it looks, the other had said before, and perhaps he's right. While Kane does not want him to worry, he realizes that there's knowledge existing from the Doctor's side, knowledge that tells a bit more than those words may seem at first glance; He did go through pain himself, some time ago - got buried under concrete, his leg injured to this day.
There must've been bruises on his body as well, back then. Back when he'd made it out alive, continued to survive, trying to recover from whatever had happened to him...
---A gasp at the coolness against his skin, those fingers that touch and cover irritated tissue in a layer of something soft and delicate. As startling as that coolness is at first, it brings a quick relief that feels almost heavenly on top of that bruise; Eyelids flutter as Kane's gaze flicks away and turns a bit distant, an arm finding its way back to Harrow's shoulder, curling around it to hold on, to keep himself upright.
"Okay." Perhaps a bit too late, with most of that conversation having already happened, but Kane, not-Kane, it, says it anyways - he's okay with this, with everything that has been said - with the ointments, the heating pads, the bandaging, the... painkillers.
Yeah, perhaps he's truly okay with taking those pills, even. He vaguely remembers the feeling of them kicking in, in a way he cannot describe; Kane must've taken a lot of them in his life, has survived on them for a while, went through trouble that required medicine to be consumed on the regular.
"...He took them as well." Kane does not know why he says it, because it doesn't matter - yet here he is, inhaling, exhaling, as he works himself through the sensation of Harrow applying that balm to his heated skin. "---The painkillers, I mean. I think... I think Kane took them quite often - I guess that means that they helped..."
The pain is severe, each breath stinging as if a knife cuts through his ribs, his stomach, his lungs. He doesn't like to admit it, but... it's a lot, despite having been able to not focus on it too much ever since Harrow had arrived, taken him into his arms.
But everything returns to him now, and his mind can barely stray away from thinking about how fucking awful it is.
Breathe slowly. You'll be okay.
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"Yeah, I..." A nod, a pair of eyes almost closed, but not quite, jaw tense. "...I should take those. Maybe. Perhaps." The longer he speaks, the more breathy those words sound; The ointment feels good against his skin, very calming - so is the scent.
Honestly, the scent might be what helps the most - but it does, reaches him somewhere deep, allows taut nerves to mellow out a little.
"Did you... --- did you feel the same, when you were... ---when you were trapped, back then? The same pain?"
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Arthur blinked slowly, unable to pull his eyes from the bruises the moment they were revealed. Deepened violet bloomed across Kane’s side, green at the edges, almost looking marbled red near his ribs; the sight was horrible. It was terrible, cutting too deep into him, filling him with memories and thoughts and knowledge - guilt. Again, he is struck by that painful amount of guilt. 
“It is bad,” he said, his voice a low, frustrated whisper, not wanting Kane to just deflect. “It’s worse than it looks, I know bruising.” He knew how severe it was, to be hit like this. Ribs, stomach - they were the most sensitive parts of any person. Every movement had to be causing pain, every shift in breathing had to pull agony. 
It wasn’t the point, though. 
He wasn’t here to argue pain, and he wouldn’t do anything more than that - he was here to fix it, as much as he could. Here to try and ease the pain, to try and get Kane to sleep for a while - he didn’t know what he’d do, after that. He could barely even think that far ahead - purposeful, he knew. He felt like everything had been wrapped in a warm towel, both inside of his head and not. 
Arthur’s eyes flicked to the bag again, only when the question had been asked, looking once more over the jars and bottles. Most had been handmade, though that was fairly standard for Arthur - he didn’t trust purchased items, not when he knew he could make ones that would work just as well. 
It was neat inside of the bag, at the very least, taken care of to some extent. Tins, vials, glass dropper bottles - a couple sealed pouches, something wrapped in wax paper. 
Arthur pulled out a tin. “This one’s arnica.” It was labeled, as everything he had was. “For… bruising.” 
Remembering as such felt like trying to recall something from months ago. “It helps circulation, it’ll ease some of that ache. I think, ah- I think I added a bit of comfrey to this one, too.” He tapped it gently, setting it on the bed and grabbing another. 
“This one’s got chamomile, calendula, and… lavender. It’s more for surface trauma - It might help with the ribs.” It might have been infused with some kind of honey; he couldn’t remember. He knew he liked to do that, sometimes - when he could get something from a good enough supplier. 
They would help with the pain, at least some. It would ease the tightness in the skin, hopefully enough to let Kane sleep. 
“These patches are heat-activated,” he continued, grabbing a few folded squares of fabric to gesture to them. “We’ll put them on the worst of it. They’ll help the soreness, you’ll be able to… to breathe, easier.” It’d help his lungs move. 
He felt like his thoughts were trying to get away, thesolidity of the physical objects being the only thing that anchored him. 
“We’ll wrap your side, after. Light compression, just enough to remind you not to… not to move too much, when you sleep. You should sleep. Even if you don’t want to.” Kane had given him a reason for that - uncomfortable, he remembered. Kane had said something else, perhaps just that he didn’t want to - Arthur, again, couldn’t remember. 
“I brought painkillers, too - pills. They’d help you rest - but you don’t have to take anything, if you don’t want to.” He wouldn’t force medication, not ever - even if he’d prefer it for Kane to sleep without pain. 
Arthur moved to grab the first tin, the arnica, opening it up. The smell filled the room, strong enough to be notable, as if he were burning a candle. “Just stay still,” he gently said. “And tell me if it bothers you. Okay? I’ll stop, if you tell me to.” 
He started on one of the bruises that didn’t look quite as severe. The balm was cold, but it would be a minor shock that would ultimately help; like icing the bruise. “Breathe slowly,” he gently reminded again. “You’ll be okay.”
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luvingjeanie · 2 days ago
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aot boys and a reader with small boobs
includes jean, eren, connie, armin
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jean kirstein
“Small?” He murmurs, setting his phone down in his lap to look at you. Honestly, you would think you had insulted him rather than yourself. A look of what seemed to be confusion and disbelief tainted his stare. And for some reason he blinked like it would make him hear better. Which he realised didn’t make much sense.
“Yeah, I mean-“ You gestured, looking down at your own chest with disdain. You had just bought a new top, said top came with built in cups, that you didn’t even remotely fill out. That’s what brought this all on. “If I wanna fill out this top, I’ll have to stuff my bra or something.
“You said small.” He repeated in a whisper, glancing to his thighs, brows furrowed. Small doesn’t mean bad? He’s a little confused.
“Yeah, I did.”
He wasn’t good with words, for such an emotional guy who was so in love with you, they came out a jumbled mess most of the time, but he was gonna try, “I know they are. But, I- you know, I still like them. Small doesn’t mean they aren’t pretty and I can still grab them so clearly they aren’t that small?”
He stopped for a moment, scratching the stubble he was growing out, a shy habit you noticed he was developing, “Plus… they look nice in those bras you got. Bralays? Bralets? Whatever they’re called.” He mumbled, soft spoken despite his rough, dulcet voice.
“Yeah, baby, bralays. Sure.” You giggled.
“Shut up-“
✮ Baby, he does not care. To this boy, tits are still tits. All shapes and sizes are great. Sure, having a nice handful is wonderful, but smaller ones are just as wonderful. You don’t need a bra all the time, and he loves when you don’t wear one.
✮ Absolutely obsessed with those cute, lace bralets with no cups or wiring. Fully see through, a little bow in the middle, dainty straps. He’s began buying you them himself
✮ Expensive too. He doesn’t wanna see frayed lace or the bow falling off after only a few wears, your man is going to Victoria Secret. And he’s bringing you with him for moral support because he’s a very gentlemanly dork and doesn’t want people thinking he’s in there for more nefarious reasons.
✮ Actually, he might just wait outside. That sounds a lot better.
✮ SEND HIM PHOTOS!!!! He did not spend good money just to not see you wear it.
eren jeager
“Babe, I know they’re small. But I don’t care, I always tell you this.” He groans, huffing with a scowl and he stands behind you in the mirror. He really doesn’t see anything wrong with the dress you’re wearing despite how everything seems wrong about it to you. “Your tits are nice, they’re cute!”
“But, Renn-“ You whine, cupping your own breasts, “There’s gaps!”
“I can’t see any gaps.” He says blankly. “But gaps or not, you look hot.” He murmurs, speaking into your hair, hands on your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest.
Eren was a guy that really thought you over exaggerated your insecurities. Not because he thought you were being dramatic, but because he didn’t usually notice them, and if he did, to him they weren’t flaws. They were character. Like a slightly crooked tooth, or acne scars that never fully faded. Or, your small chest. That wasn’t a flaw, they were still tits, tiny or not.
“You’re sure people won’t see the gaps?” You asked for reassurance, blinking to him through the mirror.
“The only way they’ll notice is if they’re really looking.” He responds, patting your hip comfortingly, “And if they’re lookin’ that close I’ll punch them!” He grins.
✮ Fully does not see why you care, or why you’re insecure. Sure, he knows that most guys prefer bigger boobs, but he doesn’t care what you have, as long as you have them, size doesn’t matter!
✮ He can still squeeze, suck, bite, and kiss them, which he does a lot, which is enough for him!
✮ He will never beat the oral fixation allegations.
✮ There genuinely isn’t much to say, he’s a horny guy and would still think you’re hot if you were so flat chested your boobs literally caved inwards.
✮ He has also suggested you get nipple piercings on numerous occasions.
connie springer
“Get rich so you can pay for me to get a boob job.” You huffed, clicking your tongue as you scrolled through Instagram. Eyeing influencers and even your friends with pure envy. Sure, some tops look cute on you, but you could never in a million years pull off the more showy tops that they wore. Quite literally, you lacked the assets required.
“I mean I’ll try, but I really don’t see why you want a boob job.” He said back, grinning all toothy and happy, chin perched on your shoulder. “I like em’” He mumbled, reaching around and motioned ‘gimme’ as he squeezed the air around your chest.
“I’m lacking, Con, don’t pretend you don’t notice!” You groaned, head lolling back against his shoulder with the face of a woman scorned.
“You aren’t lacking! You’re just tinier, but that doesn’t matter,” He cooed through laughter, pecking your cheek. “You’re still like ten times hotter than any one ever, swear on my entire Pokemon card collection. And Jean.”
“You can’t keep swearing on Jean, Connie.”
✮ Connie, for such a silly, go with the flow kind of guy, is almost shockingly earnest when he wants to be. Not to mention extremely emotionally intelligent. Sure, he may not seem like it, but he does pay attention. And he knows you’re insecure, before you even really told him.
✮ He could tell from the way you always eyed your chest the most when trying on new clothes, or when you were most concerned with the fit of the boob area on a dress when you dragged him into a clothing store. He never brought it up directly, but he made sureeee to let you know how much he loved your chest.
✮ Copping a feel when he could with a cheeky smile and a kiss on your lips before returning to whatever he was doing, paying an almost overwhelming amount of attention to them as part of foreplay, calling them ‘his girls’, everything he could think of.
✮ When you do tell him, however, he’s constantly talking about the back pain he hears girls with larger chests complain about as a way to make you feel better😭
‘babybaby, but think about the back pain, that sounds like it fucking sucks’
armin arlert
“You look pretty.” He smiles, all earnest and soft spoken, watching you with fondness and admiration in his gentle eyes.
Pursing your lips, you cup your own breasts, then drop your hands, checking how you look from all angles. Sighing, you face the mirror again, arms dropped and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. You should’ve remembered this bikini didn’t come with the model’s conveniently not too small nor too big breasts. She quite literally had the nicest handful you had ever seen, and you, did not.
“What’s wrong? Is it too tight? We can return it and get another size?” He offered helpfully, noticing your lacklustre reaction to the bikini you had previously been so excited for.
‘Too tight’ pulled a snort from you, shaking your head. “More like not tight enough. The top is literally sagging because I can’t fill it out.”
“But the bottoms are fine?”
“Uh,” You skim the waistband of the bikini with your finger before nodding, “Yep.”
He nods, slow and understanding. But he doesn’t say much in the realm of complimenting your breasts, because he never wants to make it seem like a big deal, because it really isn’t. “Okay, well we can return it and then buy you the bottoms and top separately so they fit right.”
✮ He’s practical about it, he thinks making a super big deal about it, might make it seem forced, and he doesn’t want that. That’s not to say he doesn’t reassure you and compliment you, because he absolutely does, but he’s a natural problem solver
✮ If something doesn’t fit right, that’s the first thing he’ll focus on. And he’s ALWAYS blaming the companies and designers too😭
“I really think if they’re going to build cups into tops like this, they should at least offer different cup sizes. Do they forget that women are people with different bodies?”
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ooo look at me being self indulgent again
if you guys want i'll do this for bigger chests too!!!
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cosmicbrownskin · 3 days ago
Text
maknae line seeing your natural hair for the first time
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pairing : blackfem!reader x maknae line (separate)
genre : fluff n pure cuteness. that's it.
warnings : kissing, pet names, violent threats, cursing.
has links to hairstyles found on pinterest!
backstory : so basically, you guys started dating when your hair was straightened. so they haven't seen your natural hair yet. hence, why they're surprised.
a/n: im sorry for the long wait i put you all through for the maknae line... anyways enjoy!! (felix's is a bit long; got carried away)
feel free to like, comment, and reblog.
hyung line here .
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han - 한
you sat on the counter, doing your hair
"BABY! I BOUGHT LEGOS FOR US TO-"
stood in absolute shock
"i- when- you're so- god, im dating a goddess."
"can i touch it?"
and once he notices the star parted in the front? oh hes a dummy in love
he can't believe just how creative you are
is FOR SURE gonna get star hair clips to with the style
oh and soon as he steps into the beauty supply store? straight disbelief
stays by your side while you pick out your shampoos, oils, and deep conditioners
once when you came home from work, you found han trying to do the same style
(guys he just loves you, he's not trying to be disrespectful)
it didn't look have bad, the star was just a little wonky looking
once he saw the ungodly amount of hair products you had, he used them (not alot obviously he's not trying to waste)
and you did have to help him, but you started of small, using your oils on him first
and wash days for sure became a little date for you guys
he just cares so much about you and your hair
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felix - 필릭
it was wash day, and so you were finally on the last part of your hair
"angel do you wanna go to the arcade? i'm free tonight-"
"oh hey lix-"
big childlike smile on his face when he sees it
even if this was the first time seeing your curls, he was already inlove with it
"sunshine, gorgeous, beautiful flower, your hair is so pretty like this"
back hugs, then he turns you around admiring the clips in the front (and ofcourse your beautiful face)
now. the beauty supply store.
you lead him the gel isle, grabbing some gel from the shelf
"baby there's like 10 different colors of gel here, how do you know which one to pick?"
it has its purpose on the front
he's basically like a child in a candy shop
felix does watch in awe as you pick up your oils, shampoos, and edge controls
is more than happy to pay for it, no matter what
because felix begs you to go to the beauty supply so often (even when you don't need anything)
ends up building friendship with the aunties that work there
once when you first went there with him, the woman said,
"sugar, you better keep him! up here paying for all your curl supply!"
blushed hard in the car
oh and when you revealed your stash of products, he was more than happy to help you use all of them
so like han, he INSISTED on helping.
(he's up at night learning how to cornrow and keep your curls nice)
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seungmin - 승민
wash day. but this time you wanted to do something different from all your other hairstyles so you went with bantu knots.
"baby, you wanna watch a movie tonight?"
now he wasn't as physically dramatic as the others.
internally? yes.
'oh my god my girlfriend looks so gorgeous with her hair like this- how the hell did i get this lucky??? she's definitely sent from heaven-'
those were his internal thoughts until you snapped him out of it with his name
"seungmin."
"yeah, sorry baby."
"you look like you've A. seen a ghost or B. don't like my hair.
"nonono! it looks so pretty on you, i was just in surprise because i've never seen it like this before.."
hugged the self-doubt out of you
presenting the beauty supply store!
he watched quietly as you picked up the things you needed
made a promise to himself to later search up things about your hair type
now obviously, we all know seungmin and his playful jabs at people, he did it to you too
but when it came to other people, even his members, he didn't play around
so when it came to han joking about your hair a bit, and seeing you not laughing, he shut it down with a jab
"you shouldn't be talking when your hair isn't half as pretty as hers."
you did have to reassure han that it was okay, just not to do it again
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jeongin - 아이엔
you were sitting on your bathroom counter, doing your hair
"y/nnie, do wanna bake brownies? felix hyung sent me his recipe-"
"wow."
“what? is it uneven?”
“no, it looks perfect on you.”
like seungmin, he wasn’t having a dramatic reaction, but it was enough to reassure you
“noona?”
“yeah baby?”
“never straighten your hair again.”
immediate smile from you, “i won’t.”
now, the beauty supply store.
was immediately overwhelmed by it, but understood that this was like heaven for you
he never asked what anything was
but was so happy that you were happy
at the register, he just pulled out his wallet, even if you insisted on paying
(the beauty supply stores these days are EXPENSIVE nowadays)
and of course the auntie at the register said “look at you boy! paying for your girl’s hair supply!”
same thing with felix “you better keep him honey! up here paying for your gels n oils!”
for sure went red, and smiled
as soon as you got in the car, he asked “can i help you? or i can try! please?”
you couldn’t say no to that handsome shy boy.
and later that night, he did help you fix up your edges and puffs
but when you went to sleep? oh he stayed up till dawn researching your hair type and products for it
even if you weren’t older than him, noona still came out his mouth
so when you eventually woke up to see his laptop and phone open to products and pictures he mumbled
“noona, i can help you properly now.”
☹️☹️ ugh guys he just loves you
a/n: guys, it’s finally out, and i finally have my laptop back. sorry for the wait once again, love you!!
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thepeaklegendoffirstgen · 3 days ago
Note
Yujae with a reader that always very tired and aslo very nonchalant, maybe they got into an argument or smthing (just yujae teasing reader and reader wanting to sleep) and then reader leaves, only for yujae to find her sleeping on the road with his men wondering what to do with her
Can I be 🍋‍🟩-anon? (I aslo requested that DG with reader not to long ago) love your work
Yes yes, you can be 🍋‍🟩 anon! Ah, I got 2 DG requests at the same time so which one are you talking about? And thank you 🎀
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It started over something small.
Well, fuck him...he always trivializes your worries and doubts like they’re nothing. That snake.
And this time, he’s doing it again.
“Ugh, I told you the sofa needs to be shifted to the other side of the wall. Not that side.”
“Well, you’re free to do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says, sipping tea while lounging on the very sofa you’re trying to move.
“Free to do whatever I want, huh?” you ask, deadpan, as you lift the sofa on your own. Yujae continues sipping his tea like this is all normal.
“Thank you so much the sunlight is better here,” he says with a very poilte smile, almost chuckling.
You have half a mind to ignore him because you know he’s doing this on purpose and half a mind to throw the rest of that tea on his smug head just to see if he’d still be grateful. But no. You won’t give in. Let him be. What a bastard.
“Yujae, we bought the couch keeping the wall design and direction in mind, didn’t we? So what’s this? Why do you always shift it to the other side?” you ask, arms crossed.
Oh, sweet you. He lives for moments like this—when he can rile you up. It’s rare that you show this much irritation, and once he gets a taste of it, he just can’t help himself. Like a hunter catching a rare prey.
He pulls you by the waist, burying his face in your stomach.
You try to push him away. “I’m not doing this. Answer me, or I’m going to sleep,” you say, firmly.
He notices your slumped shoulders, the exhaustion in your eyes. Just minutes ago, you were lifting a sofa like the Hulk. Now, sleep is practically knocking you out.
“Babe, it’s cardio, you see,” that polite smile again ugh.
You stare at him, utterly bored. Seriously? So he’s never going to admit he was wrong? Fine. Go to hell. You just want to lie down somewhere.
“Okay. Thank you so much for this cardio. I’ll always be indebted to your sweetness. Bye,” you say, and leave the room.
Oh.
So you really left.
You must be that tired. He can’t blame you, you’re usually a koala, after all, but he wanted to prolong the conversation. Just a little more.
Later, as he heads out to Chinatown for a meeting, what he finds outside the mansion is both baffling and hilarious.
He sees his men standing stiffly, heads lowered, like statues.
“Why did you let her sleep here, hmm?” he asks.
No one answers at first, until one finally speaks up.
“Sir, we can’t touch ma’am. We’re just standing here to make sure nothing happens to her.”
Oh. So that’s that, huh?
Well, his men are trusted, after all. But you, sleeping right there on the road just outside your own mansion? That’s not just eccentric, it’s so you. And knowing you, he bets you could fight even while sleeping.
He wants to laugh. Really. But he also doesn’t. Were you really that tired you couldn’t even climb one floor to your room?
He walks forward, gently scooping you into his arms. Carries you back inside, to your shared sanctuary.
He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and mutters, “You need to be more aware of your surroundings.”
Just then, his phone rings, his men, again, asking what to do about the meeting.
“They can wait,” he says.
Just a few minutes.
Just until he’s sure you’re not wilding out, sleeping on the road again.
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graceisinthelibrary · 8 hours ago
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A Kiss against a Wall
For @rosway who asked for kiss roulette prompt no 35.
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He really wasn’t the kind of man who liked to be sociable. Still he had given a promise and he intended to keep it, even though Siegfried admittedly hated the crowd that had gathered all over his ground floor. If anyone had the right to poison the air with tobacco it was him. No one but him should drink the ale, bought from his hard earned money, and he certainly liked to play the piano himself. Why had he agreed to all this? It wasn’t even Christmas and his house was filled with people he neither knew nor liked. 
“Blast this!” He grumped and lit his pipe. He discreetly snatched a glass with whiskey from a tray and made his way through the mingling crowd. Outside in the barn he could look after his resident patients. After all, none of them would drink his ale or abuse his piano for a horrible performance of Gilbert & Sullivan’s “My Gallant Crew, Good Morning”. 
As the backdoor closed behind him and the noise of the ongoing party faded, he drew a deep breath and strolled over to the barn. Behind the door he greeted Nelly, Berty, and Toby, the three cats and Russel, the rabbit. The cats had all needed to be stitched up after they had experienced their respective skirmishes with other representatives of their species, while Russel suffered from a bad ear infection that needed regular douche. Now that Siegfried held the little beggar in his hands and took a closer look at his ear, he felt a lot calmer than in his crowded house and wondered how long he could stay in here without being missed. 
“That’s healing rather nicely,” he complimented the rabbit as he gently applied a soothing tincture into the earhole. “In two days they can take you home.” 
Lost in the task, he didn’t hear the pair of heels that was stopping in the barn door, and he didn’t see the dark, curly thatch that peeked around the corner to see who was in the barn at this untimely hour. It was the low chuckle that finally caught his attention. 
“Isn’t it a little late to play nurse?” Audrey Hall asked, her arms crossed her chest. Siegfried shrugged and gave the rabbit a good stroking before he gently put it back in the cage. With his pipe stuck between his teeth, he said, “I figured no one looked after them tonight. With the all…buzz inside the house.” 
“The buzz as you call it, is your buzz,” she pointed out. “You’re the birthday boy and Tristan invited all the people to celebrate you. James could have looked after your patients.” He heard the mild scolding in her voice, knowing she was more disappointed than angry. Tristan had meant well when he had thrown him a surprise party and Siegfried knew avoiding it all was not just a tad ungrateful, but downright rude. 
“I’ll be inside in a minute,” he said. “I just needed…a break.” He gave her a weak smile and she smiled back at him, more softly this time. Sometimes he wondered how much she truly knew about his state of mind when he withdrew from the world and hid in his study or in this case the barn. 
“It's a beautiful party.” 
“I know.” 
“You aren’t having a problem with your age, are you?” He didn’t miss the mischievous glitter in her eyes and crooked his eyebrow in response. “You know me better than that, Mrs Hall.” 
“Do I?” 
“I fairly hope so.” 
“Because you are not old, you know.” 
His instinct was to agree with her, but he was well aware that more than half of his life was over. He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, as they said. He was a middle-aged man who spent the first hour of his morning counting the bones and limbs that felt stiffer than they should. He needed reading glasses and sometimes he wondered if he should wear them all the time, just to make his life a little easier. Then there were the grey hairs that sprinkled not just in his fading headhair but also in his beard. Nature hadn’t been terribly unkind to him, but he felt more and more that he couldn’t deny his advancing age any longer. 
“I’m a man in his prime,” he affirmed her statement, which made her chuckle. “I’ve told you before: there’s plenty ahead.” She still stood at the door, casually leaning against it. She wore a polka-dotted dress he hadn’t seen on her before. The makeup she had applied was subtle, and the shade of her lipstick reminded him of cherries. His favourite fruit… 
“Is there something left of that cherry wine of yours?” He asked in an attempt to change the subject into less dangerous waters. He also happened to love her self-made wine. There was nothing she couldn’t do.  
“I’ve saved a bottle or two for us,” she assured him. 
“What would I do without you?” 
“One of life’s many mysteries,” she mused and stretched out her hand. “Come with me. I promise I’ll look after you and keep the beggars at bay.” 
Her invitation was too tempting and so he pushed his pipe back into his breastpocket. “I would rather you would look after my good stuff. They’ll drink me bankrupt,” he said as he took her hand and followed her outside. The late summer night air was heavy with the smell of lavender and the roses she had planted in his garden. 
“It’s such a beautiful night,” she said dreamily as they strolled towards the backdoor. She wouldn’t let go of his hand and he rather liked holding hers as if she was betrothed, not just his housekeeper. 
“And it’s much more beautiful out here,” Siegfried complained as the noise of the party came closer. He would rather spend the rest of the night with her in the garden than going back inside. As if she were reading his thoughts, she stopped right before the door, and turned to him. 
“Don’t be such a grump,” she whispered. 
“I’m not a grump,” he defended himself. “I was merely agreeing with your assessment.” 
Her hiss gave away her frustration with him, but her hand on the label of his jacket applied a soft and welcomed pressure. With a shove he hadn’t expected, he ended up against the dark brick wall, and before he knew what was happening her mouth crashed on his, and her fingers gently caressed his cheek. Those cherry-coloured lips pressed on his and her tongue, he couldn’t believe it, demanded entrance. His lips parted and the sensual feeling of her tongue gently slipping inside his mouth made his knees buckle. Glad to be supported by the wall behind him, he pulled her against him, feeling every inch of her that he had only dreamt of. He tasted the cherry wine on her tongue and the hint of mustard wherever it came from. The kiss went on with her guiding him, and he forgot to breathe, as she ran her hands inside his jacket. 
“That weren’t too shabby,” she quipped when she broke the kiss, leaving him gasping and shaking. Her hands were still resting on his sides, exploring his ribcage. The rations had been good for the shape of his body, because the wonderful food she had served him over the years had indulged him more than he had deserved. 
“Shabby isn’t the word I had in mind,” he admitted, his breath ragged and his heart close to exploding in his chest. Her body still touched his and her warmth was penetrating his clothes and her mouth, now a bit swollen, was again brushing over his, making him ache for more.  
“Are you still feeling old and misplaced?” She whispered. 
“If this kiss was meant to lure me inside, your efforts were wasted,” he replied. “I very much want to stay here and kiss you all night long.” 
She giggled, “Not a chance…but I very much want you to come inside with me and enjoy yourself.” 
“For Tris’ sake?” He wondered, suddenly wary of her motives. She usually didn’t go through such lengths to force her will on him. A look or a word from her was enough to make him her slave. A kiss out of the blue must mean there was more at stake for her. 
“For your sake…and perhaps for mine,” she answered. She placed another kiss on his lips and ran her nose along his bearded cheek. “Please.”  
“Will you kiss me again?” He asked, his voice shaking. “Once the ale is gone and everybody has left?” 
Her warm breath, induced by her warm smile, brushed over his face. “I might…why don’t you wait and see?” 
As the backdoor flew open and she mindfully broke free from him, Tristan tumbled outside the door. Audrey discreetly turned away, because the corner of Siegfried's mouth was smeared with her lipstick. “Siegfried! Siegfried, my dearest brother, where have you been? We have a bet going on and need you to…” He broke off, interrupted by a hiccup. “Oh, Mrs H…where’s my brother`” 
“I’m here, Tris,” Siegfried assured him, and placed his arm around his shoulder. “On my way in!” 
“Ah good, as I said, there's a bet and we need a…” Audrey twinkled at Siegfried as he led his tipsy brother back into the kitchen and followed in due course, a knowing smile on her and a happy tune on her lips.
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valll777 · 23 hours ago
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Kusuo Saiki's Terms of Endearment and Love Languages
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Terms of Endearment
[Name] & Dear Honestly, Saiki would probably just call you by your first name. He isn't big on words, but it's how he says it that makes a difference. It's softer than his usual tone, which is EXACTLY what makes it special. Sometimes, maybe when he's feeling a bit drowsy or extra tired, he would use dear. Only in private of course. He prefers it to be something special between the two of you. But he loves using your name instead, it's his favorite word.
"[Name], I want to eat the desserts you bought." "Let's go to sleep, dear"
Love Languages
Acts of Service I think everyone agrees that he is an acts of service guy. Saiki isn't one that expresses his love for anyone using words. He keeps to himself, and would rather show his care for someone through his actions. He is quite literally the embodiment of actions speak louder than words. - Would wait for you outside of your house to walk with you to school - Would always buy a chocolate bar along with his daily purchases of coffee jelly just in case you wanted one - Before you find out you forgot something, he would've already taken care of it and have it in his hand. - When he sees that you fell asleep on your desk because of exhaustion, he would get you ready for bed and tuck you in. He would even tidy up your room and leave a snack in your bag. - One of his worst fears would be you getting burnt out or super tired because of your workload. That's why he tries his best to restore your energy while you're sleeping and gives you snacks after every exam. - Losing your spark is something he hopes doesn't happen, but if it does, he'll do his absolute best to re-motivate you. :((( - I have a feeling that he's the type to become more protective in a sense where he is constantly looking out for anything that might potentially hurt you. He wouldn't straight up admit it, but there would be signs. - If you guys are out, he would assign one of his clones to go invisible and walk ahead just as a safety precaution. - If you guys had a sleepover, he would FOR SURE cook you breakfast before the two of you head out for the day. LKJHGFDS
Quality Time Aside from Acts of Service, I think he would also really show his love through the time he spends with you. He tries to get out of all of his meet ups with his friends, but he would be happy to have hangouts with you. He would ditch his friends if it meant spending more time with you LMAO KJHGFDS - Enjoys playing video games and watching TV with you - You guys would have a lot of sleepovers and cafe dates. - It doesn't really matter if there's silence or if you're yapping, he EATS it up everytime. - Even if you're working on something in your room, he would much rather stay with you and just read. - Midway, he would leave and buy some sweets at the nearby convenience store and make you eat them with him as a break. - That way, he can also make sure that you aren't pushing yourself too hard. URGHURURUUREUAU - I swear this guy just wants you within his vicinity. I think it makes him feel more at rest. - Probably spends most of his time with you than anyone else
"Hey, where's Saiki?" "Probably with [Name]."
Other In terms of your pet names for him would be Kusuo, Dear, and Love. 'Love' though, would be your go-to when you guys are a bit deeper in the relationship. Saiki would lowkey get caught off guard when you first used it and he'd DEFINITELY be flustered inside. I HONESTLY see him being alright with a bit of physical touch BUT NOT IN EXTREME AMOUNTS. Interlocking pinkies, holding your hand in large crowds, leaning your head on him when the two of you are tired at home, short kisses on your forehead, and HE'D ALRIGHT WITH YOU GIVING HIM QUICK PECKS ON HIS LIPS. Like if you initiate it, he wouldn't mind it! GENUINELY I feel like he would prefer it if you initiated most of the contact AS LONG AS IT'S NOT TOO MUCH The thing is, he KNOWS that you KNOW what's alright with him and what's not, which is why he trusts you a lot with it. SOMETIMES SOMETIMES Saiki would start it, but with something that you HAVEN'T DONE TO HIM YET. If you just hold his hands and lay your head on his shoulder, he would kiss your forehead to show you that he's ready for the next step and that he's learning to be comfortable with it IUYTRERTYUYTR
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Quick yap; sorry it's been rotting in my head for so long I just HAD to let it out! Lmk what you guys think eueuwehwuehd
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kakusu-shipping · 2 days ago
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Oh bonus for fun fun I also did Tenna
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Headcanons below the cut Again
Pre-Spamton
He was bought by the Dreemurrs, a newly married Asgore and Toriel, practically Brand New
He obviously was never a Child but he is basically the first Dreemurr child in many ways, as he spent a lot of time with them and learned all his mannerisms and quirks from them
He was obviously over JOYED when Asriel was born, he considered him like a little brother and wanted to do everything to help him grow well. Same can be said for when Kris was adopted
He was a lot more flashy and loud in this era, he was the hit new thing after all, and he was well adored and cared for
Near the end of this era is where he meets Spamton pre-big shot. Spamton brings him fanmail from other Dark worlds, as sense Spamton isn't a Physical Object like Tenna is, he's able to travel between places easily (so long as there's a computer there)
I like to imagine the bow-tie he's wearing is the Big Shot bowtie/Frayed Bowtie Swatch and Spamton sell you in Chapter 2
Post-Dess Disappearance
I never stated it in my last bunch of headcanons but the Big Shot Era is meant to be around the time Dess vanishes, which is where everything starts going down hill
Especially for Tenna
He's already starting to show signs of age, he's been sun bleached from sitting in front of the window so long, his screen is starting to distort, his colors just aren't as vibrant no matter how hard he tries
And of course suddenly no one in the house is getting along anymore
But it's not all bad! He's got his little mailman at least! and said Mailman is offering to help him into the world of modern technology!
Tenna's in this mindset at this point where he thinks He can fix whatever's happening in the Dreemurr house by just. Doing Better. Doing More.
He's got some Eldest Daughter Syndrome without the ability to actually carry the family's burdens on his shoulders
He's also loosing a lot of weight in this era. It's mostly stress, though a few (meant to be in good fun) jabs from Spamton did Not Help
Spamton also causes his Tail Insecurity (same way, it was meant to be teasing, Tenna's just sensitive), so he starts hiding it down his pants leg
He gains a lot of Bad Habits in this Era from Spamton, like Smoking and Drinking. He handles them responsibly, but they will come back later
All the changes to his outfit in this era were Spamton's doing to help him look more new and modern
Except for the de-saturation, that's just the affect Tenna has on clothes he wears. They're meant to be much brighter, to match Spamton
Post-Spamton
He really starts to fall apart after Spamton leaves
Especially sense it's right around the same time the Dreemurr's divorce went through, meaning suddenly Asgore was also gone
And not long after Asriel left as well
Tenna can't help but think everyone leaving all at once was his fault some how
He starts abusing the Bad Habits he picked up from Spamton, getting Drunk, smoking often, magnets, anything to distract himself from his long lonely days shut off in the living room
He also starts having... kinda violent outbursts
He'll just Explode at his staff, yelling and swinging his massive self around in very scary ways. Ramb tends to be on the receiving end of most of these, sense he still has a bit of Ego left over from being Kris' favorite toy
This is of course how Ramb eventually looses his tail, and his bite
These outbursts are followed immediately by crashouts, where all he does is sob out apologizes and shrink with his screen completely blank
He's lost a lot more weight, more noticeable because he's not getting his clothes tailored anymore. Not until the dark fountain opens again, of course. Gotta look good for the Lightners.
He still cares a lot about the Dreemurrs of course, they're his family, but at this point he's so lonely, so exhausted, so depressed... He just wants someone, anyone at all to care about him
Thus why he takes the Knight's Deal.
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My silly little white men and their kinda fucked up history <3
Headcanons below the cut
Cyber Era
Spamton
Spamton to me is Trans in the same way Mettaton is Trans, in that Addisons are a Genderless/Sexless species, and thus Spamton is abnormal presenting as a Man
He spends pretty much all his time in this era being horribly anxious and depressed
He never has solid work and is constantly bouncing between odd jobs and helping the other Addisons with their work
He's always wearing some kinda hand-me-down from the other Addisons so nothing he wears fits him
Addisons have this sort of down feather-like soft fabric covering their body, it's full of fiber glass so they have a slight glow to them
He needs glasses So Bad but he doesn't know that
Ramb
As the only Power Strip in Cyber City he's sort of like the Foreman to all other Plug Boys
He's a fantastic union boss, enforcing breaks and vacation days, shifting who's plugged into every day to give them all rest
He doesn't mind his job and he's a good natural leader type it's just a little exausting
In his spare time, the little of it that he has, he learns Mixology from Swatch at a bar near by
When Queen takes over, she takes Swatch with her, closing the little bar near where Ramb works, and cutting off his only real friendship
He COULD go see Swatch at the castle, but he doesn't want to drag his old friend down now that they're in the big time
Big Shot Era
Spamton
The phone calls start, then he meets a man named Mike who acts as his business connection, and suddenly Spamton is making the big bucks like no one ever has
The first thing he does with his new big bucks is find some way to Modify his body
He adds extra joints and flexibility to his hips and chest, along with a LOT of padding, thus his fat tits and ass
He also gets Phalloplasty, said phallo is detachable for convenience, but it makes him feel euphoric so he keeps it on pretty much all the time
He's also experimenting with how tall he can make the soles of his shoes before it looks kinda silly
Bro got himself some Contacts!! He can See!!!
Sometime in this era he decides to tag along with Queen and Swatch to the Dreemurr house hold and meets Tenna, who he's an instant hit with
From then on he's constantly going back and forth between Cyber City and TV World, doing business in both places, along with Mike.
Ramb
Endearingly, this is his Douche Era
In Darkner-lore, Swatch invited Ramb to come along with them and Queen to the Dreemurr house for a live showing of TV Time (In lightner-lore, this is where Kris stole Ramb from the Computer Lab)
The attention he got from Kris was addicting, so he decided to hang around, making himself useful by becoming a "Mike" before mike was a thing
Basically he's like the Show-Runner/Producer/Director type, He makes sure everything stays on schedule and all the lighting/music cues happen on time, like the Mikes do in-game
He's really good at it too thanks to all the work he did leading the Plug Boys back in Cyber City.
And of course in his down time he plays with Kris
The amount of attention Kris gives him starts giving him a bit of an undeserved Ego, and he eventually ends up kind of negging Tenna a bit (kind of playfully, but also sort of truthfully, his intentions don't matter because it really does Get to Tenna)
Which then in turn enforces Tenna fear of being Abandoned, causing him to turn to Spamton to get more modern. He's not like, the ONLY cause for this fear of Tenna's, but he's certainly the most constant reminder of it
He's got this sort of "I know best" mentality now, along with the job position to control the flow of the show. He might be a little mad with power
Because of Kris' influence, Rambs ears start to flop (I imagine Kris is back and forth with playing with Ramb like a doll, and playing with him like a dog would a chew toy. They are Very Dogkin coded)
He also stops wearing shoes, again because of Kris' influence. None of the Dreemurrs where shoes in my mind
Also, Tenna has massive tail insecurity and makes it everyone else's issue, so Ramb keeps his wire tail tied up and tucked in his jumper. Not that he needs it for work anymore anyway
Disaster Era
Spamton
After obtaining the Shadow Crystal from the voice on the phone and seeing "heaven" through it, Spamton starts getting paranoid about the world and people around him
Which is only made worse when the phone tells him of Tenna's eventually demise, and how if he stays around he'll be going down with him
He bolts, abandoning both Tenna and Mike without a word
Out of fear for the prophecy, Spamton starts holing up in his room, hunched over the phone, only ever leaving to drink away the horrors he learns from it, or to go into the basement to pray
Queen, probably well intentioned but honestly who knows, takes him to the Acid pool to relax (against his will), which of course does the opposite
He looses pretty much all his fabric/skin, what little remains, mostly around his face and joints, he picks at till it's all gone
This of course also means loosing all the gender affirming body mods he'd gotten, except for his penis which he's SO scared of loosing he keeps locked away and doesn't wear anymore (not like he's using it after leaving Tenna anyway)
None of his clothes fit him anymore, and sense he's too scared and paranoid to leave his room, he never gets them tailored
His erratic behavior and dwindling profits (sense he's not actively working, just hiding) eventually get him kicked out of the castle, and to where we eventually see him in game
Ramb
Everything stared going down hill after Spamton ran out
Suddenly Ramb's jabs at Tenna were way more meaningful, with more bite to them, and Tenna couldn't stand to hear them anymore
He couldn't exactly Fire Ramb, he was still precious to Kris after all, even if playtime seemed to happen less and less often every day, so instead he demoted him
Ramb use to make drinks for Spamton and Tenna during their meetings, so Tenna decides to put that skill to use and stick him behind the bar
Sense Spamton left Mike behind when he fled, Tenna promotes him to Ramb's old position (which he eventually leaves, putting the "Mikes" we see in game in charge)
Sense he's on his feet all day now, he starts wearing shoes again
He also starts wearing his sleeves rolled up to remind him of better times (his arms are covered in dents from where Kris use to chew at him)
When the Dark Fountain opens Tenna is still so terrified that everything Ramb said was right, that he knows Kris better that Kris likes him better, so he takes away Ramb's ability to handle points at all to prevent him from being useful to Kris, even as a shop keep
At this point Ramb's given in to this new "Whatever Tenna says goes" way of running TV World (which up until Spamton left wasn't fully based on TV), so instead of directly fighting back he sets up the game backstage
He still has that kind of douchey "I know best" attitude, but it's mostly self defense and cope at this point.
At some point he lost his cord tail. I haven't really thought of how or why yet. I want it to have something to do with whoever's giving guys shadow crystals and why Ramb doesn't have one but still Knows Stuff, but the details are fuzzy atm
Or maybe it was Tenna during a meltdown idk I just know it's like kind of a turning moment for him.
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star--nymph · 10 months ago
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thinking about how as a templar, Cullen wasn't functioning as a person. He was just a cog in a machine; a rusted, chipped one that screeched when it connected with another cog, but a cog nevertheless. Templars don't have belongings, they don't have interests, they forfeit their family, if they are allowed to marry it's under strict guidelines. the lyrium isn't just there to make the powerful, it's to make them subservient, in theory it is meant to be the leash that yanks when the templars speaks for themselves or others. You want to rebel, you want to advocate for others? The leash can be pulled, taking you further and further away from a new drought of lyrium.
no one pays a templar to think. you are there for the honor and love of the Maker and you swing your sword for Him and no one else
and when he comes out of it, what does Cullen have? His suit of armor, his sword, his mantle, maybe an under shirt and a pair of breeches, and his coin
the coin that was his one act of rebellion in his seventeen year tenure
no one wonder he says to a romance inquisition 'when it started, I hadn't considered much beyond our survival' because why would he? Templars don't have futures, they have service and they either die in service or die on the street, starved of lyrium and dignity. It's an act of rebellion in and of itself for Cullen to think he has the possibility of a future with anyone or anything
maybe that's the greatest gift an inquisitor, romanced or not, can give him--a chance to leave service and for once, be a person with dreams and desires. And what does he do when he's given that? He creates a sanctuary for other templars, so they may no what it's like to be a person as well.
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caspersscareschool · 2 years ago
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he literally sews his kids stupid little outfits from scratch does anyone even fucking care
#tmnt#i could talk about this for hours but it pisses me off so bad when people ON MY OWN POSTS are like ooh splinter is neglectful he suuucks#shut up you idiot everything he does is for them he would kill himself in a heartbeat for them#the fact that they even survived past infancy in their circumstances is a testament to phenomenal parenting by any realistic human standard#it's just that a) it's a show about the ninja turtles so of course they're going to have a lot of unsupervised escapades#& it's not fair to read THAT much into his absence b) they are older kids at this point & it's perfectly reasonable for a group of 13-17 y/#s to go to the grocery store without a chaperone and c) his strained relationship with his grandpa heavily informs his approach to parentin#so he thinks that smothering too much at this age will drive them away & he wants to encourage their blossoming independence as much as#possible because that's what he craved at that age#and it's so clear in every flashback that he was a constant nurturing & encouraging presence in their childhood & he misses the days when#they really relied on him hence piebald#and he WANTS to spend time with them he really does. he begged to be in their family band he has to excruciatingly hold himself back from#following them on their adventures at times but again he doesn't want to smother them at this age so he finds other outlets#remember when he bought a 20$ cup of lemonade from raph & leo because he didnt want them to be sad that they got no customers in their#Sewer lemonade stand#he loves them more than anything he's just weird and autistic about it okay. shut up. Shut the fuck up#not really relevant but his room is so baller i'd spend all my time here if this was my room. minifridge and everything
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hibernating-stag · 2 months ago
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It's definitely more building on the events of my fic than anything that implied in canon, but I still really like the idea that Robo-Ky and Venom were living in a skeleton of an apartment while the bakery was taking off and it slowly gets filled with more furniture and personal effects as time goes on.
I think it might take a bit for it to properly sink in that the bakery someone else's home that they happen to live in. It's theirs and theirs to do what they want with it and that gets reflected in how it looks, yk (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑) ?
#I think Venom would be used to a certain way of doing things that comes from his time running the Guild#Venom saw himself as the extension of someone else and he needs to keep what *they* worked so hard to achieve afloat#it's hard to un-stick himself from that mentality considering the Everything That Happened#so I do think he'd still be Very Focused on repaying his debt to Robo-Ky to really focus on the apartment too much#but I do like the idea that he slows down a bit once Robo-Ky gets fitted to his temporary body#I feel like him having more mobility and agency would ease the tension a bit#and enough time would've passed for Venom to feel more secure that this town is his home#the bakery isn't going to go under#and his debts are well on their way to being paid#I think at that point instead of any purchase or deviation in schedule being something that Venom needs to carefully plan out and account f#with massive stakes on the line if he miscalculates#Venom has the peace of mind that he can just buy things because he *wants*#also I am not forgetting about Robo-Ky in this situation because his relationship with the idea of “home” is just as interesting!#our introduction to Robo-Ky (as in *the* Robo-Ky) comes from a drama CD where he's actively run away from home in a sense#with another unit being sent out to retrieve him#and when you look at how the PWAB was being run at the time I can see why!#the person who made him clearly hates him and he's only being brought home so he can be communicated with and be put back to work#but the PWAB bases are made to be temporary as well. they're rigged with explosives that can be detonated at a moments notice#you can't adjust to the idea of home if you're not wanted there outside of who made you wanting to make you useful#and if the building itself isn't something you could grow attached to either#I think it would be a bit of adjustment for him that Venom's both protective over his bakery and the town it resides in#and that Robo-Ky's presence is wanted there outside of what he can do *for* Venom#Robo-Ky is allowed to exist in the home and have it be known that he lives there#I love the idea of that being shown through little touches of him all over the place along with everything Venom's bought for the apartment#ANYWAY I hope you guys see the vision this might not be super well explained- I'm very tired#and I started running out of steam so I huolkkihohj#yappin'
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camgoloud · 2 years ago
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i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up
#sometimes i think about the fact that i’m literally the only person who’s cleaned the kitchen in this place for the entire year and a half#i’ve lived here and i get. a little pissed off#i’ve tried being polite and bringing up the problem without explicitly pointing fingers by leaving cleaning products (which i bought)#out on the counters and sending a text in the group chat like ‘hey! 😊 i got these wipes for us! i think that all of us could#use these a little more often so that the kitchen doesn’t get so gross!’ but it seems that everyone either has no sense of shame or just#genuinely doesn’t mind living in filth for the periods between the marathon cleaning sessions i do every few weekends when i have the time#one of the guys who lives downstairs will just walk right by me cleaning up on his way to the fridge and pretend he can’t see me#which is still better than the other one (the one who just burned shit in my skillet) who once saw me cleaning and asked if he could help#and when i got all pleased and asked if he could maybe take the trash out for me while i was cleaning counters (a small and simple task!#when he’d literally asked me if there was anything he could do!) he visibly deflated. said ‘well i’m not really around here much [so it’s#not my trash in there etc.]’ and wandered off. without doing anything#like. HELLO???? you could have just been like the other guy and pretended you didn’t see me doing all the work if this was how you were#going to be about it#but i guess he wanted to feel good about himself having offered/expected me to just say ‘oh no thanks i love being your housekeeper 😊’#tbh i really need to be more assertive and be like ‘hey guys i’m sick of this’ and maybe. bring up the Sexism of it all. because.#you know. the whole situation feels pretty gendered#was complaining about all this to an irl friend the other day and she said i should start a chore chart but i don’t want to be responsible#for maintaining the chore chart either! take on the mental load of managing the housework and also turning into Resident Bitch for asking#men to do things for me. you know. there is simply no way out here#there is another woman who lives here as well but unfortunately i don’t think she’ll be much help in forcing the issue because. she doesn’t#clean shit either!#actually in the days since she moved in the shower drain in our bathroom has become horrendously clogged which. well. i mean not to point#fingers but one of us has got about two inches of hair and the other has got a foot and a half. so#i also simply feel that if you clog a drain you should be the one to unclog it but i’ll probably do that as well#sorry for the massive tag rant by the way i really shouldn’t make myself out to be some kind of martyr because i’m not particularly neat#myself but…. ooooh god if the bar isn’t all the way down in hell#anyway i just did a whole bunch of dishes but i left that one skillet to soak passive-aggressively overnight#i don’t think the aggression will come across though because i think he genuinely won’t even pay attention to the fact that it’s still#dirty and i’ll end up being the one to clean it tomorrow#caseyposting
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syluses · 3 months ago
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separation anxiety
⤷ caleb experiences a rut after a long time, and it just so happens that you’re in his path.
cw. 18+ smut, hybrid! caleb, knotting, dubcon if you squint, breeding, obsessive/possessive behavior, perv caleb, fem human! reader, ruts, size difference, also a lil breeding, 3.5k words because i physically struggle to write smut without a preamble, reader is ovulating and it triggers his rut this time for whatever reason
an. saw this trope going around & wanted to try it <33 he’s got that DAWG in him 💪 also i cant decide if hybrid caleb gives german shepherd vibes or samoyed vibes…. that moments post lives rent free in my mind tho idk (>_<)
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, & 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅! (๑´ `๑)♡
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Caleb would say he hates you for the time you’re gone, but it’d be a big fat lie. His love for you, big and bursting in his chest, deepens in the quiet windows where you’re present at work or running errands throughout Linkon before returning home to him.
There’s a permanence of you in his mind and being. He wants it no other way.
His devotion for you doesn’t necessarily drown him- no, you’re always there with a lifering waiting- but it certainly sweeps him up and threatens to.
He gets a bit ahead of himself sometimes, he’s aware of that; energetic, bulging at the seams with vigor; whether it’s an integral part of his personality or just a consequence of his breed, the pound he came from never quite knew. Your Gran never figured that out, either, and for as sweet and trying as she was, she soon realized she couldn’t foster him for long.
Because he was a big boy, hungry for attention and wired to please, well-meaning but oft over involved with personal space— and he brought a loaded package that your Gran just couldn’t sign her name off on, not after a few months, anyway. She tried her best before nudging him into your care, because she sure as hell wasn’t about to give him up to that squalid pound or the streets again- and besides, the mutt liked her granddaughter; all those visits she paid throughout the summer obviously endeared Caleb to her, and quickly.
You admit, it’s a mite difficult to juggle between long days at work, little tasks that drag you from point to point throughout Linkon, and your own personal life on top of caring for a hybrid stowed away in your shoebox apartment— but your grandmother was all but sapped of her energy then, turning to you for aid although she seldom ever did, and you’d always lend a hand where you could.
The mutt- Caleb, is his name (and you call it fondly even as he’s pawing at your thighs for attention or drooling on your collar)- has grown on you considerably in the past half year, anyway.
You won’t let him down or leave him at the curb. He’s yours. The red collar you bought him says as much, printed with your number on a silver plate, and he wears it not because you make him but because he’s proud of it.
He’s a good boy, he is. He always has been and for that you’re thankful.
Except, this week he’s… different.
As of a few days ago, it’s like he’s been testing the waters- and your patience- on just how far he can go before you tell him off or say bad dog. He must find them warm because he’s just been diving deeper as the week progresses.
You don’t know what to do. He’s oddly aggressive. It’s not rare at all for him to follow you all around your apartment, but he’s foregone the very last shred of respect for your personal space and nips when you try to push him away. Not hard enough to actually hurt- the yip you make is more surprised than anything when he pulls you back in and licks at the small red patch- but you look wounded at it.
Because Caleb doesn’t bite— he just doesn’t.
He wraps you up in seemingly endless embraces and breathes your smell in until he’s dizzy, laughing into your neck like a giddy child. He does this every time you try to leave for work and he’s made you late for it.
Maybe it’s just because you’re ovulating and a little hormonal, but it makes you quite sour and the mood stays even when you return in the afternoon. He’s never liked when you’re gone, sure, but he’s always been there to see you off at the door with a pout as you scratch behind his ear- more or less tame about it.
Your patience really frays at the odd uptick in his possessiveness, though. It’s hurtful.
You’ve always treated him less like a pet- a hybrid- and more like a friend, and you feel quite indignant for it when he growls and tells you that he hates the smell of other men on you, hearing none of your excuses that it’s ‘just coworkers’, glaring at you like some brainless extension of him. You feel less like a person and more like an object, a streetlamp in which he emerges from the shadows for just to piss on to show it belongs to him.
He’s touchy. Snippy. Glued to your side at all times. It’s concerning and frustrating and confusing all at once.
By the fifth day mark, on Friday night, you’re tuckered out by it and don’t question where he is when you return home early from a shift and he’s, uncharacteristically, not there to greet you.
A red collar however, laid on the floor, its tag glittering under dim hallways lights, strikes you as both curious and unsettling.
He never takes that off. No- says it’s his way of showing you and the whole world that he belongs to you, and— have you been too impatient with him lately? Brusque? Maybe you’re a little hormonal but it’s no cause to get short with him, even when he’s acting up, and what if he no longer wants you as his owner—
A gasp.
You find him in your bedroom, humping your pillow, yowling as he comes undone- unawares- and the walls spin as you nearly faint.
You drop your purse. “Caleb!” You shriek, and a visible shiver rolls down his spine as he turns around.
“Bad dog!”
You sleep on it.
Well, you wash your sheet and your pillowcases- and then you sleep on it.
Maybe you overreacted. If anything, you should be grateful for what you walked in on because otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to tell you he’s been going through a bit of a hot phase- the first of his you’ve experienced- and doesn’t know how to control himself.
You blush just thinking about it, shame knocking in your chest as your heart beats heavy. You feel awful for walking in on him for a number of reasons. One of them being he came all over your bed- and his tummy- and you had to clean both up through furious tears as you peeled your covers off the mattress and pointed him off in the direction of the bathroom, telling him to run the faucet and quick.
A pass of guilt, the fear of you being angry with him, made its round across his kicked expression but he held off on arguing.
For the first documented time in the whole week, Caleb appeared mellow- not agitated, restless, or tense- and rather crestfallen, and you noted it only vaguely as you irately turned on the washer.
Now, it’s in the forefront of your brain.
Well, if he’s been going through some kind of rut lately, it only makes sense he’d be all kinds of pent up, and that his release (albeit in an inconvenient way and place) would provide some relief.
It’s closer to noon when you finally exit your bedroom and meet him at the sofa- the same one you’d all but banished him to last night. He prefers to spend his nights with you, either curled up at your side or splaying his full weight over your back- a breed-relative habit, you’re sure. You’ve heard of some other kinds who enjoy a room to themselves or do just fine with the couch, on their lonesome— But not Caleb.
He looks tired but perks up when he hears you patter down the hall, violet eyes lighting when you timidly take a seat.
With a bit of hesitation, he inches closer until you sheepishly wave a hand and he barrels into your arms.
“Ah- Caleb-“
Before you can even apologize for your jumping the gun last night, he beats you to the punch. “M’ sorry. You don’t hate me for it, do you?” He sighs into your collar and you shiver, “I wish you could understand what it feels like- I wouldn’t have done it if it was somethin’ I could control, I hope you realize that.”
You swallow, digesting his words as you belatedly place a hand on his head to pet. He positively melts. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble back. “It’s okay. I actually wanted to say sorry too. I- I didn’t understand what was going on…”
A deep groan looses from his throat, his chest swelling with content as you itch that spot behind the furry ears say upright on his head. They give a few twitches as he leans against you and wraps his muscular arms around your middle, resting his chin by your shoulder.
“It’s my fault, though, not yours. I didn’t know how to tell you- I was worried you’d just end up scared’a me, or…”
His pause instills interest in you. Your fingers smooth back his brown locks, mussed from fitful sleep, and he sighs. “Or what?” You press softly.
You pull him back just enough to get a look at him, his cheekbones almost shiny with a dusting of pink. His thick brows furrow together.
“Or that you’d leave,” he whispers.
Your eyes widen. You lasso your arms around his neck and pull him to you, your head slotting above his shoulder as his fingers quickly move to support the position, one hand perched at your thigh and the other braced at your side.
“Nonsense,” you grumble at his ear, a bit angry at the suggestion. “I’d never leave you.”
Something hard, then, prods at your middle- too fleshy to be something in either of your pockets- and you stiffen at the realization as it comes a beat too late.
Caleb’s voice is breathy at your ear, low, his tail thumping on the cushion. “Yeah?” He murmurs, a pang of heat stirring in your belly at the sound. Suddenly aware, you gently go to push at his broad chest but he stops you with an imploring look- although the desire, brewing in dilated pupils, isn’t lost on you- and musters a pout.
It looks out of place, the wholesome gaze marred by hunger as it reshapes his puppyish look.
“Even when I am no better than a bad dog?”
Your brow quirks, “I didn’t mean it,” you whisper, wide-eyed as his eyes bore into yours. Every micro expression you make is being catalogued and noted with utmost care, his pink tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as they grow dry.
“It’s okay if you did,” he murmurs back. “I’m just glad I have you around to remind me of my place…” Long, slim fingers reach up and you watch, unseeingly, as they stroke your cheek, his other hand creeping dangerously close to the waistband of your sleep shorts.
He chuckles, but the humor wanes quickly.
“Otherwise, I’d always be misbehaving. Do you even know what you do to me?” His voice is meaningful, torrid, as he draws in and the tip of his nose brushes with yours. You can’t find it in you to move as your thighs- the ones he slithers a singleminded hand in between- begin to roil with unexpected warmth.
You plant a hand to his chest, shying away, “C-Caleb-“
“Don’t worry,” he says sweetly, “M’ not gonna hurt you. I just….” He lets out a sigh, long and perhaps just a bit exaggerated- but it has the intended effect on you. You purse your lips and feel a trace of guilt twist in your heart.
“You drive me crazy. Y-Your smell- I don’t know why this is happening, either. Honestly? I haven’t had a rut in a couple years. But this…”
Caleb lets out a soft noise of pleasure, lending his full weight to you when he breathes you in and shakes.
When he speaks next, his words come out raspy and so low you hardly register them as his breaths grow labored- they’re all you can hear as the living room space shrinks down to just him and the knuckles that dare to dip into your panties.
“This is just too unfair. You won’t leave me hangin’, pretty,… w-will you?” Breathy. With an undeniable streak of need. You can’t miss the lust that usurps the softer parts of him and makes him look less puppyish and cheerful and more wolfish, calculating.
And, well, when he puts it like that, how could you?
He doesn’t fuck you on the couch. He takes you to your bed and fucks you there like a lover would.
He fucks you deep and fast- to his credit, he doesn’t hurt you, staying true to his word, but the possibility of bruises becomes a nearer thing when he folds your legs back and his grasp becomes constricting, plunging in and out of your cunt with rapt focus. Indigo eyes glow with something feral, like you’ve given him no choice but to claim his ownership over you through sloppy kisses and clinking teeth as he pounds into you, driven him into a corner- but his touch turns worshipful when he presses his forehead to yours and moans.
“Ah- y-you feel so good, so tight,” he compliments, words almost slurred. His pupils expand and he looks no different than a drunken, babbling man, his cheeks a rosy red.
His murmurs are wet against your lips as they graze and mush with his, Caleb’s face so close to yours that his lashes tickle your brow as he gawks at you, so entranced by whatever it is he’s seeing to look away.
A fluffy tail sways unevenly behind him and touches your leg on occasion, almost like it’s trying to curl around you, prickling and eager. Every part of him gravitates to you. You’re the ground beneath his feet. Fertile land.
“And you’re all mine, okay? Nobody else’s. I want you to wear my scent- to carry me with you no matter where you go. You have to promise me you will- mmph- That sound good-?
“C-Caleb—“
You groan when he stuffs himself deeper inside and you swear you feel his length throb inside your walls, stretching. The veins running along his shaft carve out a new pathway in you, one special and just for him, as his balls- heavy and fat, with a hell of a lot to give- slap against your ass. Slick oozes out from the squelching seam of you, coating his thick cock but you still struggle to accomodate his size despite the lubrication.
He’s made to make you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You snatch your jaw with your own hand to keep the flurry of high-pitched sounds from spilling out lest they embarrass you, but he shoos it away and cuffs your wrists with a hand splayed over them.
“Nah- I wanna hear you, baby. You can’t keep holdin’ out on me like this... I’m giving you my all right now, so it should be pretty obvious that you can do the same, yeah?”
A mewl punches out from your lungs half a second later and he seems quite contented at that. He sighs, closing his eyes, saying,
“I’ve been good all along. Can’t you play the part, too? I just want you to see how much I really love you,” his confession is by no means considered casual what with the passion in which its conveyed, but you can’t help but feel it’s a little sudden, said a little too quickly, and you wonder if he means what he says or if the rut is responsible for all these novel, amorous feelings in him.
I mean, he’s probably too wrapped up in the moment to even contemplate his own admissions as they all spew out—
“Caleb, too big—“ you gasp, cutting him off, and he lets out a strangled kind of noise when your walls clamp around him.
Holyfuck holyfuck holyfuck do it again, he wants to say, suffocate me, but nothing comes out and he realizes after a long second that his vision has whited completely. He can’t see anything; he’s in a fuzzy, dazzling world with the blinders on and all he can smell and feel is you- your scent, sugar sweet and about as inviting as a barstool pulled out, envelopes him and he can’t breathe. Can’t speak.
He fucks into you with reckless abandon, huffs you in like it’s his final breaths, and then lets it all go without care for anything else. Far as he’s concerned, everything he knows is defined by you. This is a give and take relationship: he actually gives a damn about your opinion of him and takes all you have to offer.
He’s in love, puppyish and clumsy but fuck you lead the way and lead him on.
“Shh, I know,” he rasps out, steaming up your neck like a fogged window pane as he insinuates himself there. Your whole body feels like a furnace, burning up for him as he opens you up and tucks himself inside.
“I know it’s big, but you gotta be ready for-“ he clips his sentence short, thinking better of it.
He wants to warn you of his impending knot- the one that’ll no doubt leave you yelping and writhing away from him- you certainly deserve as much of a foreword to it, but part of him is just so terrified you’ll reject him or deny him the priviledge of shoving it inside you and fuck he can’t have that.
Caleb’s nothing if not loyal. He’s also nothing if not selfish. That’s always been a wriggling bug he’s tried to stomp out but it remains in the baser part of him, only amplified by the intense rut that came right out of the blue.
He wants you singing his name and bonded to him (or as much of a bond the two of you can form), and so that’s what he’ll get.
He’ll apologize later, and you will forgive him. So all’s fine.
“Y-You can take it,” is the simpler thing he settles on, and you let it pass, because between the fat cockhead splitting you apart deliciously and the sweet, somewhat perturbing nothings he gushes at your ear, you’re deaf to most of everything.
But when you come- unexpected and sharp, overwhelming your senses as your hips ruck up and he has to pin you down in place and ride it out with you as you cream around him- the scream you let out rings in your ears and so does his ferocious grunt. It’s loud and you’re so numb as seconds pass that feel like eons; pointed teeth teasing at the squishy chunk of your shoulder, invoking a buried sense of alarm.
And then he’s biting down hard- not just nipping- the pleasure thankfully driving off the pain as he ploughs inside, muffling a string of curses as he picks up his pace. Caleb gets sloppier and sloppier and then he’s burning white-hot inside you and moaning like a pornstar, pelvis juddering as he comes.
“Mmh- f-fuck- Good girl!” he rewards with half a brain, fucked out into perfect oblivion, and for a second you wonder why his voice sounds more meant for comfort than praise- until you expect him to pull out but he doesn’t, something big and round forming at the base of his cock that has his eyes fluttering back as it pops in. He goes boneless on top of you as every limb of yours stiffens and coils around his broad back.
You scream his name. He shivers.
It feels enough to shatter your mind- the pain searing you, but the ghost of pleasure that creeps up along your nervous system makes you go like jelly beneath him, helpless to whatever he’s got planned for you.
“C-Caleb, you-!”
“Yeah, a bad dog, a bad dog,” he stammers, whimpering at your earlobe, “I know, baby, I know. Just- don’t shut me out, okay? I- It’ll be over soon, just- ah- loosen up around it, okay? It’ll feel so much better that way. Just… hold on to me.”
“I-It hurts-!”
“Ngh, shhh…” He trembles out, shifting to sample a broken mewl from your lips, cupping your jaw with all the love in the world and staring at you as if you told the sun to rise this morning. “Be a good girl and take it, mm? Your pussy’s squeezing me so tight, I think she wants it too, but she has to relax a little first, yeah? Mm… I could give you a whole litter of pups. Give your Gran a bunch of cute lil granbabies to drive her crazy.”
You choke on your own spit, the brunet letting out a near delirious chuckle at the idea and your reaction to it before his brow gives a wince, your walls instinctively trying to push his swollen knot out.
“Wha- Caleb, is that even-?”
“I don’t know,” he kisses your forehead tenderly, his tail giving a heavy, excited thump behind him on the bed as you grab the sheets for dear life and they wrinkle, pinched like your conflicted expression.
“But I’ve been dyin’ to try it out for myself.”
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goyardgoyangi · 2 months ago
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how street racer! sukuna curbs his road rage
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You hear about the ticket before he even tells you.
Something about Sukuna yelling at a traffic officer after nearly sideswiping a sedan and cutting through two lanes without signaling. Classic. The guy’s a menace behind the wheel — fast, reckless, and pissed off 90% of the time.
He doesn’t tell you until a few days later, when you’re over at his place and he casually drops, “Got sent to court-mandated therapy.”
You look up from your phone. “Because of the ticket?”
He shrugs. “Road rage, technically.”
“Jesus, Sukuna. You threatened a cop.”
“Yeah, well. He looked stupid.”
You don’t push it. You know he’s got a short fuse — especially behind the wheel. And you’ve been in that passenger seat long enough to know he doesn’t exactly drive — he dominates.
But later, when you’re both in the car, he mentions it like it’s nothing. Like he’s telling you the weather.
“My therapist said I need a calming visual in the car,” he says, eyes on the road, voice bored.
You don’t think he’ll actually do it — take advice from a therapist, let alone that kind of advice. Not him. Not the guy who thinks calming down is for losers and once told you meditation was “just closing your eyes and lying to yourself.”
So you let it go.
But then, a few nights later during a grocery run — you're craving pad thai, planning to make it just so you can plate it on the vintage dish set he bought you during your last date, the one with the chipped gold trim you’d fawned over at the thrift market — you're wandering past the toy aisle when you say, “God, I love when guys have stupid little trinkets in their cars. It’s dumb, but so cute.”
You’re not even talking about him.
But Sukuna files it away like it’s scripture.
Later that week, when he’s alone and trying to be subtle about caring too much, he scours resell sites until he finds the exact two he wants. Doesn’t bother with the blind boxes — he doesn’t trust chance. Wants what he wants.
The bunny one reminds him of you — all soft eyes and twitchy moods, always flinching when he teases, always curling into him like a sleepy little thing once he’s fucked the fight out of you. You doze off in the passenger seat after, cheeks warm, head bobbing like a bunny nuzzling in for comfort while he drives to pick up your favorite post-sex takeout.
The peach? That one’s his favorite — a subtle reminder of what he likes to see when he’s behind you. The curve of your hips, the way you move when you’re lost in the moment.
He pays the ridiculous resale price and doesn’t even flinch. Rips the adhesive tabs from their packaging and sticks both to the back of his rearview mirror — one on each side — so they’re always in view when he drives.
A stupid little bunny.
A stupid little peach.
Both staring at him with plastic smiles.
You notice immediately, of course.
“You trying to copy me or what?” you tease, shoving your phone case with a cherry sonny angel. “Seriously though, why the hell do you have those?”
“They’re just there,” he mutters, tapping the wheel like it’s no big deal. “Came in a set or something.”
Sukuna isn’t the sentimental type. Not openly.
You narrow your eyes. “Sonny angels come in blind boxes. You sure these came together?”
He doesn’t say a word.
You lean in closer with a pout. “Kuna, did you paid resale prices? I thought you said my sonny angels were stupid.”
“They’re not stupid,” he snaps, before catching himself. “I mean. You said they were cute.”
You blink.
He won’t look at you, won’t explain more. But when you ask again, just to annoy him, he grumbles something about how you’re cute like a bunny and your ass looks like a peach and his therapist can go fuck herself but maybe she was onto something.
You nearly die laughing.
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justwinginglife · 2 months ago
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The LADS Men React To You Saying You Can't Have S*X Because Of Mismatching Underwear
NSFW WARNING
Sylus
Sylus knows in an instant that you’re messing with him but he plays along, a sly smirk sitting pretty on his lips. “Oh NO- your underwear set doesn’t match? Whatever shall we do?” After clicking a few buttons on his phone, he stands to grab his car keys (one out of many).
“Wait! What are you doing, where are you going?” You ask, brows furrowing. The sudden change in the atmosphere has you feeling like, at any moment, you might get whiplash. One minute, he’s kissing up your neck, squeezing at your thighs, grinding his raging erection into your crotch, and the next, he’s throwing on his jacket, zipping his pants back up, and getting ready to leave. 
“You mean where are we going, kitten.” He speaks like it’s only obvious. 
Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why are we leaving? I thought you just wanted to have sex not two seconds ago.”
“Of course, dearest, but we can’t have sex if you’re feeling embarrassed, now can we? So I thought I’d just buy the nearest lingerie store and we could go pick out whatever you like.” 
You choke on your spit. “You did WHAT?”
“I said I bought the store. So let’s go.” His eyes are daring you to continue with your little charade.
“Well I…I kinda wanted to stay home tonight.” You say weakly. You know you’re making a pathetic case for yourself, but he’s really not allowing you the wiggle room to be more convincing.
“Then allow me to have all of their stock delivered to the house. Unless… you think that the mismatching underwear is no longer an issue?” 
Oh, this son of a bitch. “You… you really don’t have to do all of this just for me.” You say with an awkward laugh. He knows you’re all out of moves and you’re just pivoting at this point. He knows and he has the audacity to be amused. 
“Oh, but I did, kitten. I wouldn’t want to overlook this very important issue. What’s important to you is important to me.”
“It’s, uh, not actually that important…” You confess meekly. 
“Say that again, sweetie?” He cranes his head to hear you better but you know damn well he can hear you just fine.
You glare at him. “I said it’s fine.”
He chuckles, sweet satisfaction clear on his face. “So then. Does this mean we can pick up where we left off?”
Caleb
You’ve been teasing Caleb all day. 
Dancing into his field of view with that low neckline of yours, wearing a dress that’s so short, it’s a wonder it’s covering anything at all. Touching him here and there, your fingers grazing his skin with a feather-light touch, trailing up his biceps, or down his back, before flitting away like you’d never been there in the first place.
So, of course, after hours of edging him towards an excruciating erection, his self control still intact (though holding on by mere splintered pieces), you decide to reward his good behavior. You straddle him on the couch, and slowly begin to slide your hips back and forth, dragging your clothed cunt across the admittedly-impressive bulge in his pants.
He swears he’s seeing heaven, when you finally allow his aching cock some much needed friction. He’s not proud to say that a little dry humping is all it takes to get him coming into his pants, but he’s sure you’ll continue to show him such endless bliss as the night goes on that he won’t even remember how many times he’s come, let alone that the first time was in his underwear. His head dips forward, steadying itself on your shoulder as he allows the wave of euphoria to wash over him. 
But the second the wave has come and gone, his arousal is already flaring back up in his gut, ready for round two, round ten, round however much you want. All he can think about is how perfect it’ll be when he finally sinks himself inside you, your wet heat enveloping him until all he can feel is you. He doesn’t even think that maybe you’re more devious than he gave you credit for.
After he’s come, you retreat almost immediately, pulling yourself off of him.
He whines pathetically and he fumbles as he attempts to grab hold of you.
“Baby, we can’t tonight.” You say, innocent as ever.
He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, tries to restrain his very evident need for you, but desperation is quickly rising within him. “Why not?” 
You try to keep the smirk from your lips. “It’s just…I’m not…”
“You’re not what, love? Not feeling well? Not in the mood?” He hopes you don’t notice how badly he just wants you to spit it out. 
“I’m not wearing matching undergarments tonight. So we can’t.” And there it is. The goal you’ve had all night. The little trick you couldn’t wait to play on him. You’re thrilled to see how he’ll react.
His eyes darken in an instant. “Oh, you little minx. You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” His tone has dropped to a low growl. 
“I haven’t the slightest idea.” You say, feigned ignorance dripping from your lips. 
He gives a short laugh. “Sure you don’t. Well, if your mismatching underwear is the only issue-” He begins to kiss down your neck harshly, not bothering to take care where he leaves his marks, “-I’ve got just the solution.” His fingers find your dress’s zipper with expert precision and before you can even process that he’s taken ahold of it, the dress is already laying in a pile on the ground. Along with your bra and panties. 
“There. All better. Now your underwear matches- they’re both on the damn floor.” 
Rafayel
You’re starting to think that you lie just a little too well.
You had only meant to tease Rafayel when you had told him that the reason you couldn’t have sex tonight was because you were embarrassed that your bra didn’t match your underwear, but you didn’t expect him to take you completely seriously. What was even more unexpected was that he would go on to give you an entire art lecture in the process.
“Take Picasso, for instance. Brilliant artist. One of a kind. You know him, of course you do, everybody knows him. His work is asymmetrical, and yet you don’t see anybody telling him that his work isn’t beautiful because it doesn’t match.”
“Raf-”
“And take my work. My work isn’t always symmetrical either, but would you tell me that I’m anything less than a true genius? No, because I am. See?”
“That’s besides the point-“
“The point, cutie, is that you’re gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing. It’s okay that you didn’t plan a matching outfit today. Some of nature’s most stunning scenes are spontaneous. You wouldn’t complain to the sunset that its pink doesn’t match its orange, would you?”
“No, but I-”
“Exactly. So it doesn’t matter to me if you’re wearing mismatching underwear; you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still want you. Do you understand now, cutie?”
“Raf, baby, there’s nothing to understand, I was just jo-“
“Okay, if you don’t understand, let me put it in simpler terms for you. I’m hard for you regardless. That make sense now?”
When he puts it that bluntly, you really want to jump his bones. At this point, you figure you might as well. It’s useless to try and explain to him that you were only joking- not after he’s given you such a lengthy (though thoughtful) monologue. Though he’s a bit dense today, he’s still the same sweet Rafayel you fell in love with. So you think you’ll reward him for his kindness.
“You know what, baby? You made me feel so much better, thank you. I think, to show you just how much better I feel-” You strip yourself naked for him and his jaw drops, his eyes hungrily raking over your bare form, “-I’ll even let you come inside me tonight. What do you think?” You purr seductively.
You really didn’t have to try so hard to seduce him.
He’s already dropped his pants and begun stumbling towards you, rapidly hardening cock in hand.
Xavier
You’re in the middle of a very heated makeout session with Xavier when you decide to pick on him a little. You can tell where this is going, but you want to drag it out a little longer.
“Xav-” You whine breathlessly. “I think we should,” You return another one of his hungry kisses, “Probably stop for the night.” 
He pulls back to examine you. He can’t tell if you’re messing with him or if you’re genuinely not in the mood. Of course, if you want to stop, he’ll stop. He can just fuck his hand later; he’s not so selfish that he’d make you do something you don’t want to do. But just in case he did something wrong, he decides to ask. “Any particular reason you want to stop?”
“It’s just…” You bite your lip, hoping it makes you appear timid, when really you’re trying not to grin. “My bra and my underwear don’t match. I’m a little embarrassed to show you.”
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh, is that all? Feel free to change them then. I won’t look.” Before you can even respond that it’s a joke, he’s turned his back to you to give you your privacy.
You shake your head, smiling softly at his back. You didn’t expect him to be so sweet. You may as well strip naked while he’s allowing you the time; you had planned to have sex with him anyway. 
What the both of you don’t realize is that your bedroom’s full length mirror is angled just right so that he can still see you even when you’re behind him. He looks up only to get a perfect view of you undressing. When he realizes he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to, he starts to look away. But then he catches a glimpse of your mismatching underwear. Cherries decorate the soft material of your panties, while your bra is littered with little bows all the way around. Heat surges through his groin and he realizes that for some reason, this combination of mismatching underwear is doing something to him. 
You finish pulling your shirt off all the way and reach back to unhook your bra. “You know, I appreciate you being so understanding, my love, but I have to admit- I was completely kidding about not wanting to have sex just because my underwear didn’t match.” 
In an instant -you honestly don’t remember him even having the time to turn all the way around- he’s at your side, gripping your wrist tight and locking you in place. “That’s a relief. Now you don’t have to take off any more.”
You raise a curious brow at him. “What do you mean? Didn’t you want to have sex? I kinda have to take my underwear off for that.”
“No. You don’t.” His tone is low and thick with lust. “The undergarments stay on.” Before you know it, you’re pinned down to the bed.
You don’t know if it’s his teleportation ability or just his pure, unadulterated need, but he seems to be moving rather hastily today. You’ve barely even had time to blink before he’s slipping his cock under your bra, fucking your cleavage while it holds his cock in place. 
Something about you, the girl who always settles for function over fashion, wearing the cutsiest, girliest underwear he’s ever seen makes him harder than he’s ever been before and he’s not stopping until he’s staining this particular set in his cum. 
Zayne
“So we don’t strip naked then. That doesn’t mean I can’t still make you feel good.”
When you originally decided to play this joke on Zayne, telling him that you were feeling just a little too shy today to reveal to him your mismatching underwear, you thought he would see right through your little act. This is the man who has known you almost your entire life, after all.
But after you’d come so many times IN YOUR GODDAMN UNDERWEAR ALONE, all because he had insisted on tending to your needs even with your clothes on, after your clenching walls began to feel rather bruised, your clit increasingly more and more overstimulated with each passing second, as he fingered you through the (soaked) fabric of your clothes yet again, you were starting to regret this decision to mess with him. 
You tried to confess so many times, to tell him you’d been lying, to beg him for his cock instead, but it was almost like he knew what you were trying to say, because he’d kiss you so deeply until you were so dizzy from lack of breath that you forgot what you wanted to say, and then he’d dry hump you until you forgot how to even breathe in the first place. 
When you finally stutter out a pathetic, “P-please Z-Zayne…can’t t-take it anymore. Wanna f-fuck you,” Your hips thrusting desperately against the unsatisfying, thin air, he grins.
In that moment, you realize he’s known you’ve been lying all along. 
He leans over to you and you think he might kiss you. That, or scold you. But either result turns you on, so you hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.
He merely peers down your shirt before tugging your pants down slightly to confirm something. “So your underwear does, in fact, match. What an interesting development. Now then…how should I punish you for such dishonest behavior?”
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