#but you might catch him just.. baked. in his room sometimes)

[didderd]

>.> <.< how would your boys do with a easily flustered shy partner? :o

hehe :3 (under read more, bc it's another long one)

Tic thinks it's cute, and relates a lot to it. he weirdly finds comfort in it, and he'll try his best to make you feel comforted when he's around too. he feels like he doesn't have to be as nervous around you, and might be a bit more straight forward. not very flirty, but takes the initiative more, and where with others his flirting would be very subtle, with you, he'll flirt more obviously (tho still lightly for the most part). he just loves the pretty flush he gets out of you.

Tac finds it adorable. he can't help but push it as far as he can without overwhelming you too much. he takes any chance he gets to make your face light up with that pretty blush, but he'll be patient with you when you do get overwhelmed. Tou has a similar mindset to Tac on this one, but he's not as blatantly flirty most of the time. he'll take any chance to make you blush, but be subtle about it. he plays it off like his flirting isn't intentional, and plays innocent, asking if you're ok and if you have a fever when your face gets so warm. it's hard sometimes to tell if he's teasing or actually doesn't know what he's doing, at least for those who don't know him as well as his brother does. though if you get him alone, and he's either known you for long enough or he's drunk (or very high), his mask will slip. you'll see he will flirt just as much as Tac, and it's all intentional.

Snaps is the worst of them. he is a fuck boy at heart (or soul), and will drive you to the point you feel like your face is gonna melt with how hot it is. he will figure out what makes you the most flustered and abuse that knowledge. he can't help it, you're so cute when you're a stuttering, flustered mess. he is both good with words and touching, and he will use both to get that blush he loves. his only line is crossing boundaries. he has high respect for consent, like anyone should, and he's a pretty good judge of when he needs to back off, or not go any further.

[daryltwdixon]

Kinktober #3 Playing House

that’s it, that’s the title

Warning: smuuuuuuuuuuuuuutty wheewwy! 🥵🌶️

You and Daryl are out scavenging on a run, going through a row of houses to find canned goods to stock up for winter before the cold front hits. No one knows what winter will bring-will walkers be more docile?

Surely the cold has to slow them down like it does for people, right? But no one is sure.

When Daryl offers to make the run, you're surprised when he calls your name to join him. It's not that you're afraid-you go on runs all the time. Just... not usually with Daryl. He's intimidating and aloof, and usually you head out with Glenn and sometimes Rick. You're quick, good at getting in and out, even it there are a couple of walkers around. You can get what's needed and leave.

So when Daryl asks you to join him today, you only hesitate because you ve never been alone with the man before. But you agree, feeling like you kind of miss the adrenaline of not knowing how the day will go since you all moved to the prison. You're happy life feels safe-of course, you are-but at heart, you might be called an adrenaline junkie.

You walk a few paces behind Daryl in the woods behind the row of houses, your eyes drawn to the way his muscles move beneath his shirt as he navigates the path ahead. Every time he pauses to check the trail, you take the opportunity to watch him longer than you should. His broad shoulders, the way his fingers expertly grip his crossbow… if only it were warmer and he wasn’t wearing that damn long-sleeve, you could see the gorgeous valleys of his arms. You catch yourself staring once or twice when he turns suddenly, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, and you look away quickly, a blush rushing to your cheeks. You swear one time you catch the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

It only gets worse when you stumble on a root sticking high out of the ground, feeling the earth rushing toward your face. Daryl’s strong grip catches you before you hit the dirt, pulling you up effortlessly. He holds you there longer than necessary, his eyes scanning your face as he brings you back to stand.

“Thought you were supposed to be good at bein’ quiet,” he murmurs. The rasp of his voice sends a tingling sensation through your skin. Why did you allow yourself to be alone with this man?

“Usually I am,” you grumble. You pull away, but the feeling of his hands lingers longer than it should.

There are a few more times where you know you stare too long at his arms as he holds up the crossbow, or brush up against him when you pass by to stake a lookout to the street before crossing into the suburban neighborhood.

Finally, you reach one of the houses. You quietly open the front door, wincing as it creaks so loud it might as well paint a big target on your back for any nearby walkers. You stop just as it’s wide enough to slip through, hyper-aware of Daryl’s body close behind you, his closeness throwing you off your game. You need space to breathe. You take off into the rooms, sweeping through with your knife held high as you check around. You’re at the top landing of the stairs when you feel a hand on your leg. You nearly jump out of your skin, turning quickly to see Daryl reaching through the banister, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of your pants. For a second, you forget how to breathe.

“We ain’t got time to mess around,” he grunts up at you. “Don’t be long.” Your eyes flicker down to his hand, and he follows your gaze, quickly removing his hand as if it’s burned him.

After checking the rooms, trying to shake off the goosebumps from his touch, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. Your nerves are still buzzing, but you realize Daryl is nowhere to be found. You trust he’s around somewhere. You reach up on your tiptoes to quietly sift through the top cabinets above the counters, your fingers coming into contact with a cool metal can. As you pull it down, you read the label—Baked Beans. You’re about to set it on the counter when you feel a hand wrap around your waist, fingers firm on your side. Your breath catches as another hand covers your mouth before you can make a sound.

The grip is firm, possessive, and for a split second, your body tenses in shock, adrenaline spiking in your bloodstream. But then you hear the familiar rasp of Daryl’s voice in your ear.

“Easy,” he growls quietly, his breath hot against your skin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Your heart races in your chest, but not from fear. The roughness of his palm against your waist sends a shiver down your spine, and though his grip softens, he doesn’t pull away.

He’s close, too close, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.

The smell of leather and sweat clings to him, his warmth radiating into you as his hips press you forward, pinning you against the cold surface of the counter. You suck in a breath, goosebumps rising as his voice rumbles low in your ear.

“Wanna play house?” The words are playful, teasing, but there’s an edge of something darker, something that makes your pulse quicken. His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, sending a jolt of heat straight through you. He pulls his hand from your mouth now that you’ve settled from the initial shock of his appearance.

There's a moment of heavy silence, the tension between you thick. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest, the weight of him pressing into you as if he's been waiting for this, as if the world has finally stopped long enough to give him this moment.

After a beat, his voice comes, low and gravelly. "Ain't like I just thought 'bout this today," he mutters, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. "Been thinkin' about it... for a while."

You swallow hard, your pulse racing, utter disbelief clouding your thoughts. "You have?"

His grip tightens on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel every inch of his strength. "Yeah," he admits, his voice rough but certain. "Tried to stay outta your way, but.." He pauses, his breath catching for a second. "Every time I look at ya, it's like... I can't stay away."

He shifts behind you, his mouth hovering dangerously close to your ear again, his words thick with something between need and frustration. "Ain't good at sayin' shit like this, but... you gotta know, I been wantin' this... you." His voice drops even lower, almost a growl, "Wanted ya since the first time I saw you."

You feel the truth of it in the way his hands won't let you go, the raw edge to his words, the way he's so close, yet still holding back just enough for you to make the next move.

"Daryl..." you start, your voice soft, but you don't know what else to say.

His lips brush your skin, rough, like he's fighting not to lose control. "This what you want too?" His voice cracks slightly, a vulnerability hidden behind his usual gruffness. "Cause if it ain't... you gotta tell me now. Ain't gonna stop once I start."

“I—I—“ you stutter, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Suddenly he’s spinning you around, his hands coming up under your thighs. You squeak at the sudden movement, your arms flying to grip his neck as he hoists you up onto the counter, your legs around his waist. He keeps your hands firmly on your hips as he says, “been wondering what you’d feel like,” he whispers, rubbing up your thighs, “your skin,” his hands move up to your face, eyes flickering down to your mouth, bringing his thumb up to trace it, “these lips,”

"Tell me," he rasps, his thumb brushing along your jaw now, rough and slow, "you want this." His lips hover, so close, yet still not touching.

The air between you is electric, and you're frozen, caught in the space between wanting more and the shock of him finally saying it.

Finally acting on it.

"I want this." It's barely a whisper, but it's all he needs.

In an instant, his lips crash into yours, rough, urgent, and desperate. The kiss is nothing like you expected-it's not soft, not tentative.

It's raw, almost hungry, like he's been holding back for so long and now he can't stop. His hand on your jaw slides up to your hair, fingers tangling as he deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer.

His other hand grips on your waist to hold you steady, keeping you tight against him, his body solid and warm.

His kiss is demanding, lips moving over yours like he's trying to memorize every inch of you, every breath. You open your mouth for him, his tongue plunging into you, discovering your taste, your tongue, everything.

His lips leave yours for just a second, barely giving you time to breathe before he's kissing down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Shoulda done this sooner," he mutters against your neck, his voice thick with frustration and something darker.

"Daryl..." you gasp, your fingers slipping under his shirt, feeling the rough edges of his skin, the scars, the heat radiating from him.

He groans at your touch, his hands bringing you flush against, pressing harder into you.

"I ain't stoppin' now," he growls, his mouth returning to yours, the kiss even deeper, more desperate this time. His teeth graze your lower lip, and you shudder, feeling him smile against your mouth, a rare moment of triumph as he finally lets go of the control he's always kept so tightly wound.

His hands are everywhere now-one gripping your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as if he's afraid to let go, afraid this moment will disappear if he does. He's rough, but there's a tenderness hidden beneath the urgency, a need to show you exactly how long he's wanted this, how much he's held back.

You’re pulling at his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin radiating off of him as he pulls away for a split second to remove it, his fingers expertly finding the hem of yours a moment later, ripping the fabric off of you. His kiss is ravenous as he pulls you in again, its teeth and tongues and fire as you explore the heat of his body against your bare skin, your body feeling electric under his touch. Soon his hands leave you, and for a moment you’re left feeling only the cold counter under you until you hear the clatter of a belt coming off, and pants being pushed down. He has his fingers hooked into the waste and of your pants soon after, pulling them off in a haste. The counter is freezing under your bare body and the contrast of the heat of him on you only raises more goosebumps along your skin.

His lips hungrily trace down your neck, nipping your shoulder and skin of your chest as his lips find your nipple and his tongue flattened against it, teeth grazing just right until he’s moving to the other. You lean your head back and moan quietly. His head comes up quickly, hand in your hair pulling him into you.

“As much as I want to hear you sing for me, sunshine, you’re gonna have to be quiet out here,” he growls into your lips, pulling you in for a desperate kiss before continuing his torturous teasing of your skin. You whimper at the sight of him lowering down in front of you, his blue eyes flicking up to yours as he pulls you forward, so the apex of your thighs sits at the edge of the counter.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his breath fanning the slick heat of your center. You bring your own hand up to your mouth, biting your finger to keep quiet as he dives for you, his tongue expertly finding every crevice of you, lapping and drinking you in. He’s moaning against your wet cunt as he continues his greedy attack, and you feel the pressure of an orgasm building in your abdomen. Daryl’s eyes are on you as you whine and whimper, and he brings a finger up to tease your center. Your eyes roll back, your hand coming down from your mouth to cling to his hair. He gently pushes in a finger, quickly followed by a second, and you’re spasming under his touch when he hits the top of your g spot, making you gush around him. He hums his devotion and rapture at your pleasure.

As he pulls away from you, his fingers dive into his mouth, his tongue cleaning up every last drop of you as you grab for him. Pulling his face to you, you kiss and slide your tongue along his, the sweet tangy taste of you still on him. He’s growling into the kiss, pulling you off the counter to stand. Your knees nearly collapse at the sudden need to have to support yourself, but his hands hold you, the rough calluses sturdy against you. He spins you around, pushing you flat against the counter. The cool touch of the countertop makes your nipples harden as they press against it, your cheek laying gently down as Daryl kisses along your back.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do ya?” His voice is gravely against your skin as he kisses down your spine, his hands traveling up and down the sides of you and landing on your hips as he stands.

“Can ya feel what you do to me?” He asks you, his thick, hot cock pressed up against the center of you. You gasp at the contact, never knowing how thick he really was. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take it, and maybe he can feel the tension in your body as your hands come up to your sides, bracing yourself.

“Shhh, shh.. say the word and I’ll stop right here, right now, baby,” he says, hands gentle on your sides, thumbs rubbing circles where they lay against you. You let out a shaky breath, leaning up against him. Your hand snakes up and around his head, holding his hair while the other goes behind you to touch his side. He smiles, kissing your shoulder, bringing his hands to your front and kneading your breasts and your breath steadies.

“Just… be gentle, at first, please,” you whisper, “I don’t think I’ve had anyone— not that big,” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh.

He breaths against your neck, and you can feel the smile against the column of your throat, “I promise,”

You tentatively lay your hands back on the counter, laying yourself back down. He brings his hand to his cock then, stroking it himself before bringing it to your wet lips, readying himself for you. You hear him spit, and look behind you to see him lubing himself up with his own juices, and something about how absolutely carnal he is makes you shiver in fervent anticipation.

He holds you hip with one hand and gently guides himself into you inch by inch. You gasp at the feeling of nearly being split in half, and hear his deep, animalistic growl at the feeling of your walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts out, barely above a whisper. He pauses as he bottoms out into you, his entire length buried so deep you swear you can feel him in your womb. After a long moment letting you adjust, you’re shaking with need. The list coursing through your body causes your mind to go blank with absolute desperation for this man, for friction, for movement.

“Daryl, please— move,” you beg, pushing yourself against him. He leans down suddenly and bites onto your shoulder.

“Say no more, darlin,” as he snaps his hips back and into you with hungry speed. You jolt forward, your body never feeling as full as it does now. He stays leaning over you as he grips your waist even harder in your hands, his hips unrelenting in their thrusts. His cock feels like it’s splitting you in half and filling you to the brim as he continues ruthlessly fucking you against the counter. You’re trying with all the caution left in you to not scream his name, only letting whimpers and small moans out, his name on repeat from your mouth.

“Drive me crazy, that’s wha’ ya do to me,” he says breathlessly between kissing your back as he moves in and out of you, “couldn’t stop thinking about you— about this. How you’d feel taking my cock, how you’d look with it buried in ya, fuck, baby,” his thrusts are becoming irregular, and he snakes one hand between your legs and your eyes widen at the overstimulation as he pulls back the hood of your clit, pressing the calloused pad of his finger perfectly on the nub, causing your legs to shake.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper into the counter, unable to stop your body from convulsing under his touch.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock. Love seeing you so desperate for me, so cock drunk for me,” you barely can hear his words as your cumming again, biting your lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming and you taste the metallic hint of blood on your tongue. The feeling of your walls squeezing him like that has him toppling over the edge too, a long, carnal grunt escaping from him.

Both of you are gulping down breaths as you come down from your highs, his arms now tight around your waist. You both finally stand and you turn to face him again, your hands coming up around his neck.

“If I knew this is what you had in mind, Dixon, I would’ve gone on a run with you a long time ago,” you tease, a smile tugging at your lips. He mirrors it, his rough exterior softening for a brief moment as he pulls you into another kiss.

But then, a distant snarling fills your ears, snapping both of you back to reality. You whip your heads toward the kitchen window, eyes narrowing at the sight of walkers accumulating by the woods where you came from. The urgency crashes over you—it’s time to go, and you have to move now.

“Time to show me how quick you really are on your feet, sunshine,” he says, scooping the discarded clothes into his arms before holding yours out to you.

[forsworned]

Breach of privacy ft. Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Author's note: Kyle stumbles upon your journal and he can't keep his prying fingers off, but what happens when you catch him?

Tags: Sexual Content ish?, Your teammate that you have the hots for is reading your private, sexual thoughts about him

He didn’t mean to do it, really. The journal was just lying open with your fluffy pompom pink pen stuck between the pages. His fingers graze the rosy pages as his eyes skim over your handwriting.

March 30

Sometimes I really can’t help but get lost in his honey eyes when he talks. Everything else fades to white noise when he looks at me. I can’t get enough.

He chuckles softly. He supposes you could be talking about anyone like that. His fingers trace the edge of the page, contemplating whether to turn it.

Of course, Kyle isn’t an idiot—well, maybe a little bit. He has enough sense to know he really shouldn’t pry into your private thoughts. It’s wrong, but he can’t help himself.

He tentatively bites his lip, glancing at your door, which is slightly ajar, and then back at the journal. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he turns the page.

He notices a few torn pages and skips to something more recent:

July 29

The dream I had last night was way too vivid for my liking. I stashed my cake in the farthest part of the fridge, and Johnny still ate it!—

Kyle snorts softly. It’s not completely unrealistic for the Scotsman to eat their food, even if it’s labeled.

—Apparently, I was so upset that I ended up crying, but Kyle told me he had a remedy for my post-eaten cake blues and took me to his room.—

Kyle hesitates, his breath catching as he reads the last line. The word “throbbing” pulses in his mind, teasing him with the possibility of what might follow. He half-expects the entry to turn explicit, making him regret invading your privacy even more.

But as he reads on, he realizes it’s not what he thought:

—He sits me down and eases me into his bed, insisting that the only cure for my misery is the warmth of a freshly baked brownie. I’m skeptical, of course, but when he hands me the plate, my resolve melts away. The chocolate is still warm, soft, and gooey, and as I take the first bite, the flavor spreads through me like a comforting hug. The throbbing in my head from crying so much begins to fade.—

Kyle lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. That’s all it was—a headache. He chuckles, shaking his head at his own overactive imagination.

Just as he’s about to close the journal, something at the bottom of the page catches his eye. The next sentence appears hastily scrawled, the handwriting slanting with urgency:

—But then he leans closer, and his hand rests on my thigh. His touch is gentle at first, but soon enough, the warmth from his hand begins to spread, and it’s not just my headache that’s throbbing anymore…

Kyle’s eyes widen, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason. He quickly flips the page, but before he can read more, the sound of footsteps approaching makes him snap the journal shut, his face flushing with guilt and something else he doesn’t want to name.

Your body goes rigid when you notice the fine-ass man of your dreams (literally) standing in your room, holding your journal. Horrified doesn’t even begin to cover it.

He’s slow to realize the journal is still in his possession, and when it hits him, he scrambles to put it back on your worktable. “Oh, I wasn’t—” He stammers, but before he can finish, it slips from his grip and falls to the ground, spilling its contents. The horrified expression on your face only deepens.

You rush over to gather everything, and he crouches to help, but your voice is irate. “J-just stop!” You exclaim. He pauses, glancing up at you with a remorseful expression, but you don’t care—not when the spilled items include detailed sketches of Kyle and, well…

“Whoa,” he murmurs, taking in the intricate ink drawing of you and Kyle in a rather compromising position. It’s enough to make his cock strain against his compression shorts.

Your face burns as you snatch the illustration from his fingers and stuff it back into your diary. He slowly stands, feeling a flush creeping up his cheeks. He had no idea you saw him like that.

He watches as your lip quivers with the journal tucked under your arm.

“[Name], I…” He steps forward, but you shake your head and step back.

“Just get out,” you say softly. He can tell you’re deeply upset—probably more than he’s ever seen you before. His heart sinks when you turn away, folding your arms as a tear slips down your cheek.

Ah, fuck. He’s really done it now.

“And you just kept reading?” His Captain’s incredulous tone feels like a stab to his chest.

“Well—”

“No, ‘well,’ ‘ifs,’ or ‘buts.’ You invaded the lass’s privacy. Have you no shame, Kyle?” Price continues to scold him. Kyle shakes his head, almost understanding, but not quite.

“It’s just that I saw these drawings and—”

“—Don’t tell me.” Price cuts him off, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Jesus, Kyle. Are you serious right now?”

“I…”

Price points a finger at him with a threatening tone. “Not another word. Go now.”

The temptation to read someone’s private thoughts is childish, but he can’t ignore it. He runs a hand over his stress-stricken face and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Go apologize,” Price chides, gesturing to your room, which you’ve locked yourself in. Kyle opens his mouth to protest, but John doesn’t want to hear it. “Now. Before I kick your arse myself. That’s an order, Sergeant.” He turns away, taking a long swig of his ale.

Exasperated and dejected, Kyle scoots off the barstool and heads to your door. He lifts his knuckle to knock but hesitates, glancing back at his Captain, who glares at him intently.

Yeesh.

He softly knocks on the door, but there’s no reply. “Hey, [Name]. It’s me, Kyle. Can I come in?”

“Why? So you can read more of my journal?” You call out from behind the door, and he feels a dull ache in his chest. He leans his ear against the door and closes his eyes,

“To apologize, lass.”

There is an uncomfortable silence before he hears you padding toward the door, and shifts his weight so he’s no longer supported by the barrier. You only crack the door open. Your eyes are sunken in, cheeks are tear stained and flushed, and he feels his heart sink even further.

“Please.” He pleads with you, and you can tell he’s being sincere. Begrudgingly, you open the door and he steps in as you shut it behind you. 

“Can I sit?”He points to your bed, and there’s a flash of your dream that plays behind your eyes as it dips beneath his weight.

“Well, you’re already sitting.” You mutter, crossing your arms at him. He gives you a sheepish smile before apologizing and he leans forward, weaving his fingers together. He glances up at you with an earnest look in his amber eyes. A look that makes your heart melt no matter how angry and humiliated you may feel because of him.

“I’m sorry, [name], really. I was wrong.” 

You lean against the corner of your desk, crossing your legs in front of you. “Are you sorry because the Cap said you ought to be?”

He glances away and shuts his eyes, “[name]...”

Vexation shocks at your system. “No, don’t you [name] me. You had the fuckin’ audacity to read my thoughts, in my journal in my room.” You scoff at his impudence. “Unbelievable.”

His shoulders slump, “Look, I understand. I really do. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I just got curious…and also—”

“Also what?” You challenge, quirking a brow at him.

“I just never realized how talented you were. I mean really, for a second there I thought I was reading a romance novel not a diary that doubles as a personal art gallery.”

You can help but snort at his cutesy attempt of trying to dig his way out of the hole he just created for himself. He swallows thickly realizing his charm is working on you, “and…”

“And?” you press inquisitively.

He sighs and gives you an earnest look. “I really am sorry.”

You tilt your head to the side. You almost feel bad for the sorry state he’s in. It’s easy to tell when Kyle feels guilty of something, when he’s being honest and genuine, when he’s annoyed and fed up—when he’s genuinely happy and you see that glimmer of softness in his pretty eyes…

“But I can’t help but feel like I’m the main love interest.” He teases, trying to lighten the mood and that causes your disappointment and anger to crack. 

You roll your eyes, failing to suppress your laughter.“Yeah, well, the main love interest has a lot to answer for.”

He smiles and stands up, stepping closer to you. You allow him to close the space a little, glancing up at his towering form and feeling the warmth radiating off his body. “Okay, I’ll be honest. I have no clue how to fix this, but let me make it up to you?”

The smell of his aftershave is dizzying. “How?”

“Well, for starters,” He takes another step and you’re raising your brow at his boldness. “I’ll stop snooping where I don’t belong.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Uh huh,” Your heart thrums loudly against your chest. 

“And I can take you out to lunch? That cafe you really love that’s all the way in the city, the one with the cute pastries you love.” He tempts, and of course, you can’t help but to cave in. It’s annoying and slightly distressing how you allow it. You don’t want to, but you’re crashing quickly at the look in his eyes as he licks his plump lips, grinning down at you. 

“Fine. Only because I adore that place.” You point your finger at him. “And”

He raises his brows waiting for your next condition. “There’s no price limit on what I want.”

You knew he would do that anyway, but you wanted to make it crystal clear. He pokes his tongue in his cheek and chuckles. “Boy, you really know how to seal a deal, eh?”

“Idea,” You smirk.  “maybe you should try not poking your nose into places it doesn't belong then.” You sarcastically remark, and he playfully scoffs at you. He enjoys the banter, and well, you.

“Touche.” 

You sigh as you card your fingers through your hair. “Fine, but you’re still not off the hook.”

His eyes darken with something unspoken. “Good, I don’t wanna be.”

For a moment you feel the intensity cracking down on you as you search his eyes, and you’re melting under his gaze. But there’s a rapping at your door that tears your gazes from one another. 

“All good?” Price’s leans against the doorway, trying not to pry. His expression is unreadable and you can’t help but to feel some relief. 

“Yeah, Cap, we’re good.” 

He nods, eyeing Kyle for a bit longer. There’s still a hint of disappointment in his eyes, but he can’t say that he’s not consoled by you two making up. He thinks that maybe Kyle’s lesson isn’t quite up yet.

“C’mon Kyle, got somethin’ for ya to do.” He gestures for him to come with him. A smug look on his face as he winks over at you. Kyle groans.

“Oh, no.” Kyle pouts as he’s being dragged away by Price and you’re giggling at his objection to obey his Captain’s orders. He reaches out to you as you grin. “Save me!”

You shake your head as you close your door, “Not a chance, Garrick.”

[aventurineswife]

(っ╹ᆺ╹)っ plz, in case no one has asked yet, the other obey me characters with a thembo? If you can't do all of them... At least Thirteen and Diavolo, thank you 💖✨💖✨💖✨

Obey Me! Side Characters With A Thembo!Mc

Tags: Side Characters x Reader (Diavolo x Reader, Barbatos x Reader, Solomon x Reader, Simeon x Reader, Luke x Reader(Platonic) Raphael x Reader, Thirteen x Reader, Mephistopheles x Reader), Fluff, Humor, Thembo!MC/Reader, Lighthearted, Can be read Romantically (for others except Luke) or Platonically, Misunderstandings.

[Obey Me! Brothers ver]

Diavolo loved your carefree nature. There was something refreshing about your innocence, like a ray of sunlight breaking through clouds. He’d be meeting with you in his office, and you’d be lounging on his couch, legs kicked up like it was your personal throne. He couldn’t help but smile every time you misinterpreted something he said with that look of unintentional innocence.

"Diavolo, how do I lift this heavy thing?" you asked, holding up a stack of papers that were almost taller than you. "It looks... heavy. I might need your muscles for this one."

Without missing a beat, Diavolo walked over to help, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. "You don't need to worry about lifting anything, MC. You are the strongest person I know," he said, lifting the papers easily with one hand.

"Are you sure? I mean, I guess I could try..." You puffed your chest out, only to trip over your own feet, falling into his arms.

"Here, let me help," he chuckled, carefully setting you down. "Just be careful next time."

Barbatos was as composed as always, but you brought out a bit of playful teasing in him that no one else could. His careful precision and your lovable lack of understanding always made for an amusing dynamic.

"Barbatos, I found the weirdest thing in the kitchen! It was like... a small round food, and I thought it was an apple, but it wasn’t?" you asked, holding up a strange, translucent item. "Do you know what it is?"

Barbatos chuckled softly, peering over his shoulder at you. "Ah, that would be a lychee fruit, MC. Not an apple. It's quite different in taste, but I imagine you'd enjoy it."

You blinked. "Huh... I thought it was one of those fancy apples from the human realm. Well, I’ll eat it anyway!" You bit into it with enthusiasm, your face lighting up at the sweet taste.

"You're always so full of surprises, MC," Barbatos said, his smile carrying a hint of affection. "Do take care not to confuse them next time."

Solomon often found himself both amused and exasperated by your antics. But when it came down to it, he had a soft spot for your honest nature. Even if you lacked the finesse for magic, you were always willing to try your best, even if you sometimes miscast a spell.

"Okay, MC, let’s try this simple spell again." Solomon instructed, as you stood with a determined expression, wand in hand.

"Right, right, I can do this!" you said confidently, despite the previous attempts having failed miserably.

You raised your wand, focused, and shouted, "Leviosa!"

Instead of lifting the object, the entire room seemed to shake, with the object glowing bright purple and floating in every direction. Solomon barely managed to catch it mid-air.

"MC..." Solomon sighed, his face both impressed and slightly concerned. "You do know that was a very complex variation of the spell, right?"

You blinked up at him, still smiling, completely unaware of the chaos you’d caused. "Oops... maybe a little too much?"

Solomon rubbed his forehead, chuckling under his breath. "You're impossible, but that's what makes you so fun to teach."

Simeon always tried to keep a calm, serene demeanor, but whenever he caught sight of your goofiness, he couldn't help but laugh. Your personality was pure sunshine, even if you were clueless to the social nuances around you. One time, you had tried to bake a cake for the others.

"You know, Simeon, I think I got the recipe right this time!" you said, holding up a cake that looked... interesting, to say the least.

Simeon peered at the lopsided cake with an expression of both surprise and concern. "Are you sure, MC?"

You grinned confidently. "Definitely! I followed the instructions! No way it could be wrong!"

Simeon bit his lip to suppress a laugh as he cut a slice. "Well, I admire your confidence... though I believe you might've misinterpreted the sugar for salt."

You blinked at the slice, eyes wide. "Oops. I mean... who knew salt could give cakes that... unique flavor?"

Luke adored you. Your simplicity and strength made him feel safe, like you were the protector in the duo, even though you often needed protecting from yourself. It wasn’t unusual for Luke to ask you for help with things, though you had a tendency to get distracted easily.

"MC, can you help me carry this basket of ingredients?" Luke asked, looking up at you with his wide, trusting eyes.

You grinned, eager to help. "Of course, Luke! This is totally my thing!"

As you grabbed the basket, you started to walk toward the kitchen, but... well, your attention drifted. A butterfly fluttered by, and you were off chasing it without a second thought, leaving Luke standing with the basket in hand, watching in mild confusion.

"MC?!" he called out. "You promised to help!"

You returned a few minutes later, out of breath, with the butterfly in your hand. "Look, Luke! I caught it!"

Luke chuckled, shaking his head, but still grinning. "You never stop, do you?"

Raphael’s patience was endless, and he appreciated how your straightforward nature complemented his own more reserved disposition. Though he would occasionally shake his head at your antics, he admired how you could be completely yourself.

"MC, do you need help with that weight?" Raphael asked one day as you were trying to bench press a surprisingly heavy set.

"Nope! I got it!" You responded, pushing with all your might. The barbell was barely moving. "This is easy! I just need to try a little harder."

Raphael stood nearby, arms crossed, watching. He couldn’t help but be impressed by your sheer determination, though he was definitely concerned about your technique.

“MC, might I suggest a different approach?” Raphael said calmly, walking over to assist you. “A little more control and less effort can sometimes be more effective.”

You let out a big sigh. “Guess I’m not as strong as I thought...”

Raphael chuckled, gently correcting your form. "You're strong, MC. But strength isn’t just about force; it's about balance."

Thirteen was always amazed by how you could be both the most brilliant and the most oblivious person in the room. You once tried to invent a device for cooking breakfast in bed but somehow accidentally turned it into a small nuclear reactor.

"MC, what in the world is that?" she asked, eyes wide with both curiosity and fear.

"Oh, this? Just a little something to help me make eggs and toast faster!" you explained, waving it off nonchalantly.

Thirteen sighed. "You know, MC, that is far more advanced than what anyone needs in a kitchen... You should probably step away before it explodes."

You glanced at her and smiled sheepishly. "Oops? Maybe I can cook with a regular stove next time."

Thirteen just grinned and patted your back. "It's so fun seeing you experiment, though."

Mephistopheles was one of the few who could tease you without worrying about getting overly frustrated, though you did manage to surprise him with your bizarre takes on life.

"You've been staring at that puzzle for hours, MC. Are you sure you're doing it right?" Mephistopheles asked, noticing you trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together upside down.

"Huh? Oh, I thought the picture on the back looked cooler." you said, tapping your chin thoughtfully.

Mephistopheles stifled a laugh. "Well, you're certainly... a unique one, MC. But if you flip it over, you might find it easier."

You smiled brightly. "Oh, yeah! I forgot about that." You flipped the puzzle over and immediately got to work, not realizing that your answer was the most logically simple one.

[berriblossom]

Hi can I make a request of Casper from a date with death with a short s/o that’s chubby and a baker and is a otaku and is a tomboy but still likes some cute things tho

I just wanna see some domestic things for Casper

-> This is so much cuteness! Thank you for the ask!

-> What he loves most | Casper x gn!reader! -> Second POV, just fluff!

There were a lot of things Casper had to get used to when he had his newfound freedom from being a reaper of souls. Many of which he happily shared with you.

Whether it was going through old manga that you had stored on your shelves that he read in his free time, or watching old animation films you bought for him to entertain himself with. Some nights if he felt up to it, he'd ask to wear a face mask while watching a new show of yours. He may not understand the concept of "fighting for your honor back " but he'd watch if it makes you happy. Another thing Casper loves while doing this is laying his head on your thighs or tummy. Slowly as you watch the film you'll notice him lean closer and closer to you as the show goes on. Soon enough he's lying on your thighs commenting about the protagonist being too bright or obnoxiously loud. (if you mention anything about being the same way to him, he will deny it and say you get an exception because his sunshine is supposed to be bright and vibrant.) He will also remind you if the show you are watching or catching up on has new episodes, just to remind you and make you smile at the end of a work day.

If you like playing games of any sort, he is down but is competitive and kind of a grandpa.(remember the emoji convo) so be patient with him. He is trying. I see Casper as the type of gamer to play the Sims and never leave the computer, just designing his future with you, your pet, Azrael, and a garden for you. (with a large kitchen and space for baking, with a personal room for you and your novelties and books). Don't let him play a horror game. He either makes fun of it for the overdramatic deaths or he'll challenge it. Either way, the fear factor won't work on him like that(in my opinion) but try and delete the 4 bedroom and 3 bath home on the Sims he made for you, there you will get tears and screams.

Another thing Casper likes is your job. Even though he has mentioned that reapers don't need to eat, sleep, or breathe somehow he is always jumping at the occasion whenever you text him about bringing home any baked goods or pastries from the shop home to him and Azrael. (yes, him too because it is an excuse for you to bring more to share) It doesn't matter what you pick, he'll eat it with an adorable face of joy. He sometimes will come down to the bakery and help if you need it.

While making fun of you for being "below the average mortal height" that he has seen over the years. You can flirt as much as you want to but, Casper will always use his height to his advantage. If you're in the shop and need something from a high shelf or above the fridge? Ask him politely to inflate his ego a little bit and then he will help you. While placing his tease a bit. Looking for something specific but can't seem to find it. He placed it on top of the fridge in "sky jail" because you teased him earlier about liking cream in his mouth. Now you'll never finish the dessert you were making unless you go to find the step stool. (which he has also put in a higher place to piss you off more.)

Cuddling sessions after a tiring day of work are as ethereal as Casper is. Had a hard day at work? Get in the blanket with him, he might be as frigid as a frozen tundra but his cuddles and affectionate squeezes and words of encouragement are just as warm. A customer made you a little upset? Oh, trash needed to go out on Thursday anyway (that's a joke, unless...).

The best learning experience for Casper is when he tries to bake or cook with you, he doesn't know the proper measurements for anything, it's random bullshit and go for him. But he will listen to your instructions. While he is intently measuring the sugar, water, and yeast mixture with full concentration, if you go up to him and give him a kiss or hug him from behind he'll shoo you away and mumble about how he was so kind to be helping you at work. FOR FREE. But after a few minutes, he'll ask for your assistance on a task and will cling to you like glue. Will he get flour in his hair? You'll never know, but he will snipe samples and test batches of anything you'll make. Your coworker's batches? Not so much. Even if it is hot garbage in your opinion he will still eat it up as if he was starved.

All in all, Casper can be a little shit or sweetheart for you. Just bring some extra snacks for him and Azrael for the next few days while he is on that Sims 4 dream home.

[notcreative360]

It's the little things

Obey me, fluff, anxiety, comfort, self harm maybe?

When you first came to the Devildom, you might have adjusted quick, but it sure had a few changes in yourself, or maybe even entirely. But not to worry, cause the obey me boys are there for you!

.

.

.

Diavolo obviously researched a lot, with both Barbatos, and Lucifer. He made sure, that an ordinary human will be able to live there. Whether it is hydration, nutrition, foodration, proteinration. Everything, for the human that will have the most impact on the mission of one day having the three realms together.

Once you actually got there, boy was it was something for you. You didn't know what to do, with school, everyone else, the brothers, or even yourself. You were lost. But, even when Mammon didn't want to, he gave you tours, told you about everyone, and the bros, he was there most of the time. Having quality time together, and getting to know each other more. A distraction that loneliness wouldn't have ever given. He was practically the only one who let you process things slowly, since his brain works the same, and so he gets it all too well.

Still.. even with Mammon's silly shenanigans, they couldn't keep the thoughts, and anxiety from creeping in. Asmodeus having to catch you multiple times, picking at your lips, and skin of your fingers was just torture for him! Realizing that it's just anxiety, and that you don't even mean to do it, he still couldn't rest well knowing you're doing this to yourself! He would then take you to his room, or go over to yours himself with bags and boxes, full of all types of things, nail polish, skin care, makeup, etc. Doing skin care, and pedicures, teaching you all you need to know, for that cute dollface of yours.

Realizing how fragile humans can be, Lucifer had so much to learn. How much water a human needs, he is surprised, so much. How much humans eat, how many times, he is surprised, so little. How much humans sleep, once again, surprised. The average human sleeps more hours a night than he ever could, with responsibility, and his brothers. Nonetheless, he always makes sure you don't pass anything, drink your water, eat your portion of food, and go to sleep!

Beel being the expert in food, he takes you out to eat once in a while, so you can explore the wonders of food in the Devildom. Of course, with you guys getting kicked out once in a while by Beel's endless stomach, you still have fun with him. And he is right, the food in the Devildom proves to be good, with some food being almost identical to human world food, which you especially loved.

Satan knows that the boredom can kill sometimes, so once in a while he sends pile of books to your door.. which take almost an hour to clear out.. Still, it keeps the time flying by when you're alone, and need something to pull you out of the reality, that somehow you ended up in hell.

Luke, Simeon, and Solomon also want in on exploring the Devildom with you. Luke being the aware, untrusting one, Simeon being chill, and laid-back one, and Solomon is of course leading the group. Most of the times in havoc, but you all had a great time together. The perfect Angel-Human quadruplet team.

You see Barbatos often. Following the Demon Lord Prince. Tho, he is invisible most of the time. Even so, he gives advice to you whenever you need it, always responding with a soft warm welcoming smile that puts you at ease. His baking, and tea do the rest of the job for you to enjoy the time there too.

[mandomaterial]

I LOVE your Miguel x Reader fic so much! Can we please get another Miguel x Reader where they are complete opposites again, but she isn't use to seeing a scary/violent Miguel. So when she finally sees him like that she gets a little scared and Miguel has to reassure his little angel that he would never behave this way with her. Fluff please because i love your fluff fics!

OFC BBY! I changed it a little so that reader didn’t only see it but also experience it, yk? U’ll see :3 I hope you like it pookie!

Miguel scaring and accidentally hurting you

Like this? Check out my Masterlist

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You were on your way to visit your boyfriend of a few months at work, with a little Tupperware box of fresh cookies in hand, you knew that he was Spider-Man and you knew all about the spider-verse. You also knew that Miguel worked very hard to keep the society intact and that it put an immense strain on his mood and health.

He’d come home all grumpy and annoyed, just wanting to cuddle you to death, he wouldn’t even let you get up to make him some food or treats, so today you decided to bring him something to cheer him up. You’d made a variety of cookies, some frosted and others shaped like animals and stars, to some people it might seem like something from a kids birthday party where a trottle ran off with the sprinkles and went crazy with them but it was just how you liked to bake. You knew that some people thought you were weird for dressing in bright colours and having fun hairstyles, sometimes older people would whisper when you walked past them but you didn’t mind, to you the worst possible thing would be being called normal or plain. You didn’t let anyone stop you from buying or making the clothes you thought were cute and today you decided to show off the new skirt you made. You spent all of last week sitting at your desk with your sticker covered sewing machine, securing the fabric and hemming the edges.

It was truly adorable and you loved how it framed your butt and thighs! You matched it with the off white cashmere sweater that Miguel gifted you after only two moths of dating. He knew that you liked cute things so he had little bows added to the sleeves and it warmed your heart every time you thought of his attentiveness. You packed the cookies into a little shoulder bag and set off.

It didn’t take long for you to get to the main office and there you almost crashed into Jessica who you always enjoyed having a little chat with, you always asked how her baby was and if everything was going as planned at HQ, but today she decided to give you a little warning, Miguel had been a little agitated and stressed today, because Gwen got stuck in a mess and brought back a Teenage boy who was never supposed to know about the Spider-verse and how said boy was causing a bit of trouble. You thought nothing much of it and continued looking for him.

Your first stop was his main office, to be honest it looked like the bat cave, with a floating platform that was his favourite. It always made you giggle when you compared Miguel to batman, but he wasn’t there, so you decided to just walk around and see if you’d find him, when you suddenly heard a loud bang. Instinctively you whipped around, running to a large window and what you saw shook you to your core.

It was thousands of spider people chasing after what seemed to be a small figure in a black suit, it was a sight that you’d never seen before, was everything alright? Was that an anomaly? Why were so many chasing it? Millions of thoughts rushed through your head as you sprinted down the stairs to the ground floor to get a better look, but everything was moving so fast that you lost sight of them as that disappeared behind another building.

You rushed through the halls, trying to catch up with them and somehow you ended up in the room with the go-home machine, all while everyone was surrounding Miguel and the young boy who was in the midst of being “sent home” and Miguel had his talons dug into the electric walls of the capsule, almost tearing it apart while growling and yelling. You’d never seen him like this, as if he were a feral creature hunting its prey with cruel intent. Your body started shaking a little as you took a small step back, maybe this was a really bad time. In that moment the capsule fully closed itself, sending the teen home and leaving Miguel seething with rage, ready to demolish anything he got his hands on, when he suddenly noticed his wach showing signs of an anomaly or something that wasn’t supposed to be at headquarters standing only a couple meters behind him.

Without a second thought and with pure rage and will for distraction Miguel lunges backward, his vision blurry with fury as he sunk his claws into the floor, propelling himself closer and closer to his new victim. All the while you didn’t even have time to think, fear filled every fiber of your already tensed body, he made the decision in split-seconds, not even realizing that it was you, his partner, as he rushed closer to you. You started stumbling back, screaming his name, but nothing helped clear his mind. Miguel stretched out his right arm, talons out as far as they could go, ready to tear you to shreds.

His usually gentle fingers wrapped themselves tightly around your neck, nicking you and squeezing tight, you felt him almost crush your throat but that wasn’t the end of it. Miguel flexed his arm, lifting you up into the air and just as he was about slam you down with all his force, he had a moment of clarity, his heat almost stopped as he recognized your face, albeit it was contorted in ear and pain. He noticed how tight his grip on your neck was and how you were scratching at his hand for a single breath, as he cut off your air way. His eyes widernd, fear and regret washing over him. Instead of glamming you to the ground, he quickly let go of your neck and pressed you to his chest. He felt your tears wet his suit and he heard you cries. Your cries were pain filled and your voice hoarse as he tried to comfort you by rocking you back and forth gently. He knew that it was his fault. What had he done? What if you never wanted to see him again?

He did something he swore to never let happen. He hurt you. He made you fear him. Miguel commanded everyone to leave, so that the two of you could calm down and as soon as it was only the two of you, he collapsed to his knees. It was like your tears were never ending and your fingers weakly grabbed onto him, barely able to hold on as you hid your face in his chest.

“I’m sorry…” Miguel whispered, his voice cracking as he continued muttering “I’m so sorry.. please forgive me.. I didn’t mean t-to…” he whimpered, but it was like you didn’t hear it, way too caught up in the scenario that played out just minutes ago. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you were hyperventilating, not being able to calm your breathing. Minutes passed and Miguel was still rocking back and forth, as if comforting a crying child, the horrid scenes kept replaying in his mind and he didn’t know how to make it better.

Your cries slowly turned to whines and hiccups, you moved around in his lap, trying to find a comfortable position when he gently lifted your chin to look him in the eyes, he opened his mouth but said nothing for a few seconds until he finally whimpered “I love you, you know that, right?” He pulled you into a close hug, not even waiting for your response, he squeezed you as close to him as he could, his anger long gone. “P-please don’t leave me…” he continued, he sounded utterly broken and that only made you shed more tears, you didn’t want to be sad, you didn’t want him to be sad, this was just a stupid accident right? He didn’t mean it…

You nodded a little and tried to speak, but nothing audible came out, only whimpers and whines. Miguel pulled the two of you apart, gently placing his large hand onto the crown of your head, carefully lacing his fingers between your hair as he looked at your little form that was dwarfed by his own. “It was and accident… please forgive me…” he muttered as his eyebrows scrunched together in regret. You replied with a little nod, your lower lip still wobbling a little. Miguel caressed your hair a bit before moving lower to your neck, he pushed your hair back and revealed a couple red scratches going almost all the way around. He felt so ashamed that he’d hurt you, that he was the cause of your pain. Ge gently brushed his fingers over them and you let oust a little wince. He’d take you to the med bay right after this, he promised.

Only then did he notice what you were wearing, first he looked at the sweater. It was the one he had custom made for you, when he saw it in the store window he thought about how’d you look like a fluffy baby alpaca in it and he just had to get it for you. He touched the soft fabrics and slid his grand down your arm, intertwining his fingers with your slender ones. Next he noticed the skirt, ha hadn’t seen it in your closet or anywhere else?. Did you buy it? No it fits too well for that… you probably made it. He couldn’t help but let a soft smile cross his face. The room was almost silent so he tries to shift your attention to a different topic “Did you make this?” He gently rubbed the b fabric between two of his fingers.

You looked around quite confused for a moment until you found what he was talking about, you rubbed your eyes a little and gave him another nod “y-yea, i finished yesterday.” Your voice was barely audible and littered with hiccups.

“It’s cute” he replied, placing his hands on your hips and shifting your body so that you were sitting sideways on his lap with your head leaning on his pec. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled closer, almost purring. You liked sitting like this, on his lap and utterly surrounded by him, it made you feel small and soft, like a precious delicate possession of his.

You could feel how worried he was, it washed off him like waves and you wanted to make him feel better, so you cupped his jaw and whispered “I’m okay Miguel, you didn’t hurt me” as soon as he heard, you could almost physically hear the stones dropping from his heart and his spirit lifting. The two of you were definitely feeling better but there was still a bit left to talk about, so Miguel decided that it was time to leave. He rose to his feet but kept you in his arms, you rolled over a little and decided to play with his hair as he walked out of the now silent room. Your fingers wrapped themselves around the little short curls at the back of his neck, it was one of your favourite parts of his hair because it was so much more curly than the longer pieces.

Miguel felt your little fingers and could stop the lopsided smile that formed on his face, sure he still had work to do, but to be honest, for once in his life, he didn’t care. He’d do it tomorrow and surely get an ear full from Jessica.

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Once Miguel stepped through the doorway a long sigh left his chapped lips, he still felt quite bad about what happened today, but he knew that you’d forgiven him and that you weren’t upset. You fell asleep in the car, so he decided to be the good boyfriend he was and carry you up to his penthouse. You often slept over at his place because you liked the big windows and loved his comfy king sized bed. Normally you fell asleep earlier than him and once he got to bed, he’d find you in your cute pink jammies, laying starfish with one of your legs over the blanket and the pillows long thrown off the sides. He couldn’t help but snap a little picture, you were just too adorable.

So now he careful layer you down on the side you preferred to sleep on. He took off your socks and reached under your shirt to unclasp your bra and pull it off you so you wouldn’t wake up in pain, before covering you with his blanket. Once you were tucked in, he strode over to one of his cupboards in the bathroom and pulled out one of the first aid kits (he has multiple stocked) and pulled out a salve. He rummaged around further until he found your favourite bandaids, the ones with the cute shapes on them and walked back to his bedroom.

You were sleeping soundly as he sat down right next to you, careful not to dip the mattress too much, he gently stroked your hair back so that he could tend to the little wounds on your neck. Guilt shot through him again once they were revealed, t be honest they weren’t even that bad, but he knew how sensitive to violence you were and he knew that the scare was probably worse than the pain. Nevertheless he dipped his fingers in the salve and started softly rubbing it over the red marks and covered them with the bandaids after. After a few minutes he was satisfied and snuggled up to you, making you the little spoon, he wrapped his arms around your wast to pull you close. And just like that, all cuddled up, the two of you fell asleep, meeting again in your dreams.

[yorshie]

Bayverse Headcanons

Just some headcanons I keep in mind when I'm writing bayverse. Will probably come back and add more as I decide on them.

Leonardo

Height/weight: 6’2”, 670lbs

Theme song : Loyal by ODESZA

Ambidextrous but if he needs to punch someone he uses his right hand

Has a dry sense of humor, more little quips and witty one liners than anything planned

Turns into a bit of a caveman when you’re in danger. He catches you going someplace dangerous? Straight to turtle jail for 1000 years. You don’t wanna be picked up and carried to safety? Too bad, it’s happening

Is the King of small touches. A hand on your back, a nudge of his knuckles to get you moving. Mr. soft eyes and low voice when he wants to get his way

Still gets into arguments with Raph. Sometimes they still dissolve into fisticuffs.

References vines to the horror of his brothers (his fav is “road work ahead”)

No one will play Risk with him because even if he’s losing he somehow bleeds everyone dry

Has a gameboy with exactly one game, Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town. All his animals have names like "Bob" or "Tilda"

can't cook, is banned from the kitchen, once set water on fire.

reads science fiction, fantasy and sagas a lot, though if you pay attention to his books the covers are sometimes swapped and it's almost always poetry or romances.

Not a big fan of PDA. Will give you a snoot boop or a chaste forehead kiss in public, but anything more is off limits. What’s that? You wanna snuggle? You better hope none of his brothers walk in because this turtle might panic and shove you off his lap in a snap decision instinct. You wanna go to his room? The scandal. What will everyone think? Fine, but he’ll ninja you in there. No one will know or see. Ninja silent. Except- Donnie will know. Donnie will see. Because he was sitting in the chair right next to you two and you both somehow forgot he was there.

Hogs the bed. And the covers. And the pillows. Basically if you want any bed commodity you better be prepared to snuggle

If you want him to watch tv that’s not sports it’s gotta be some older saga or classic that you actually have to pay attention to. Loves black and white martial arts movies. You once caught him hugging a pillow and watching Princess Mononoke with tears in his eyes.

Will just stare at the person who asked him to kill a little harmless spider before leaving the room

Donatello

Height/Weight: 6’8”/ 680lbs

Theme Song: Frequency by Tim Wolf

Left handed

Donnie is THE sarcastic little shit. 

He realizes quickly that while Leo has softness, and Raph is filthy, he doesn’t need to stoop to theatrics to get what he wants. He just has to make eye contact, tilt his head, and tell you in a calm, plain voice what he desires, and it works. 

Can’t keep his attention on one thing for a long period of time, or has to have multiple stimuli going on to keep focus. King of multitasking

The turtle most likely to curse

Can’t sleep without a nightlight and either music or a movie

Listens to filthy music when he’s working. 

The others gang up on him during trivia night to give everyone else a chance

the adrenaline junkie

one time he got Leo's tea mixed up with his coffee and he spat the substance clear across the Lair.

can cook but it's kinda bland. Can't bake to save his life, despite arguing with every failed cake like it’s out to get him: “it’s science why won’t you work??!”

hasn't opened a real book since the invention of the internet. Has a library of hard drives with the subject matter clearly labeled in alphabetical order. Mikey doesn't know about it and thus it has stayed relatively in order.

Doesn’t use his bed much, so the upside is you always have room to stretch out. Bad news is, if you want this turtle to get any decent sleep, you have to figure out how to keep him trapped enough where he can’t move without waking you up. And he’s a ninja.

Donnie likes to watch informative things. Like how it’s made, or unsolved mysteries. His crack show though? Cryptid hunters. He’ll laugh himself silly over people trying to trap Bigfoot or corner Mothman

The one that kills spiders

Raphael

Height/Weight: 6’5”/ 720lbs

Theme Song: Don’t Get in My Way by Zack Hemsey

Right handed

Turtle has a MOUTH and he is not afraid to open it to to get what he wants. Absolutely filthy when he wants to be.

Will turn into a little melted turtle puddle if someone is sweet to him. Doesn’t really turn to butter over words, but actions will get him every time.

Watches crocodile hunter and golden girls when no one else is awake. Loves animal documentaries, and zoboomafoo

Rough around the edges when it comes to heartfelt affection or feelings. With seduction he’s smooth, but telling someone he genuinely cares for them? Good luck stringing two words together my dude.

Prefers silence or listening when hanging out with someone. He’s slow with his input, careful with what he says. You’re winning if you can make him laugh

in the kitchen he’s either making the most disgusting looking thing that tastes fucking amazing or he’s grilling. Doesn’t tell anyone he learned how to make bread watching Julia Childe.

If he's doing something dangerous or something stupid, the worse thing you could say is along the line of "Leo said-" like, congrats, you just made sure he's gonna do the thing everyone knows he shouldn't. Flip side, he's trying to talk you out of doing something? Just sigh and say "ok, guess I'll go ask Leo-" Boom. Thing is done. Is it healthy? no. Does it work? yes.

Is the most considerate when it comes to sleepy time. He’ll make sure you have your own pillow, own blankets. He sleeps on his stomach and doesn’t move much, and is large enough that you could sleep tucked under the lip of his shell without fear of being squashed

Not the one to call if you see a spider. He will scream

Michelangelo

Height/weight: 6’0”/ 640lbs

Theme Song: Handclap by Fitz and the Tantrums

Right handed but if he puts his mind to it he can use his left equally for everything but writing

Is legally obligated to use cheesy pick up lines, and is a Talker

Uses lollipops and hard candy to keep his focus, bit of an oral fixation

completely ruins heartfelt moments by getting sidetracked. Can be giving the mushiest compliments then in the next breath go "so you gonna eat that leftover cake in your fridge or nah?"

Changes nicknames for you on a semi-weekly basis just to keep you on your toes and to annoy his brothers

Prankster extraordinare 

Can cook, but like the annoying ‘these are the worst ingredients to combine and somehow this tastes good and I'm going to sue you over telling me what's in this’

Is the best with understanding emotions and expressing himself. Yes, Leo might be better reading body language, but Mikey has empathy over why someone might react a certain way, not just 'if I do y then x happens'

Will push buttons to see how much he can bug someone

The one most likely to help you sneak out and get up to shit. Also the one most likely to get you two caught.

Makes up song lyrics when he doesn't know the actual words. Will change them to suit his needs, or how badly he wants to tick off his brothers. Not sure who would get the MOST annoyed by wrong lyrics on purpose, but you just know he has a different set fine tuned for each brother

His bed is basically a storage container for pillows and blankets. Which is good, because he is a serial cuddler, and if you need space to sleep you’ve got plenty of pillows to act as a body double if needs be

Loves soap operas, iron chef, diners drive-ins and dives. The more drama is in it, the more he eats it up. He and Raph bond over Golden Girls once the bigger brother realized he wasn’t going to get teased over it

Will pick up the spider to show you it’s not something to be scared of

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Autumn Break part 2

Masterlist

The first half of autumn break was already over, and Lando decided it was time for a little adventure. “We can’t spend all our time lounging around,” he declared over breakfast. “Let’s check out the local town. It’s quaint, full of history, and there’s this amazing pub I want to show you.”

Franco clapped his hands together. “A pub? Say no more. I’m in.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “Might be nice to stretch our legs.”

Alex gave a noncommittal shrug but didn’t protest.

The drive to town was filled with chatter and laughter, Lando narrating every turn like a tour guide. When you arrived, the cobblestone streets and charming storefronts were exactly as picturesque as he’d promised.

“We’ll start with some sightseeing,” Lando said, leading the group toward an old church that towered over the town square.

As you wandered through the narrow streets, you found yourself walking beside Alex again. He seemed more relaxed than before, even pointing out a few interesting details about the buildings.

“This town reminds me of a place I visited in Thailand once,” he said.

“Do you visit Thailand often?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Whenever I can,” he replied. “It’s home for me in a lot of ways.”

His tone was warm, and for the first time, you saw a softer side of him.

The pub was everything Lando had promised—a cozy corner spot with low wooden beams, a roaring fireplace, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air.

Franco immediately ordered a round of drinks, and the group settled into a booth by the window.

“Let’s toast to no car troubles in the next race,” Franco declared, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” you said, clinking your glass with his.

As the conversation flowed, a group of other patrons entered the pub, their voices loud and boisterous. Among them were a few familiar faces—drivers from other teams.

Lando noticed them immediately and raised an eyebrow. “Small world.”

One of the drivers, Pierre Gasly, spotted your group and gave a nod of acknowledgment. But instead of joining you, the group settled at a separate table, their laughter carrying across the room.

You couldn’t help but notice how none of them made an effort to come over, and a familiar pang of isolation settled in your chest.

“They’re not worth your energy,” Lando said quietly, catching your expression.

“Yeah,” Franco added. “If they don’t see how awesome you are, that’s their loss.”

Oscar, ever the diplomat, gave you a reassuring smile. “They’ll come around. Just give it time.”

Alex, however, surprised you the most. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “you’ve earned my respect. That’s not something I give easily.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt a lump rise in your throat.

Later that evening, after everyone had returned to the estate, you found yourself restless. Deciding some fresh air might help, you stepped outside and started down the gravel path that wound around the property.

To your surprise, Alex was sitting on a bench near the edge of the garden, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you asked, approaching cautiously.

He looked up and gestured for you to sit. “Too much on my mind.”

You sat down beside him, the crisp night air wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Is it about racing?” you asked.

“Partly,” he admitted. “But also... everything else. This sport can be brutal sometimes.”

“I know what you mean,” you said softly. “It’s like no matter how hard you work, someone’s always ready to tear you down.”

Alex nodded, his gaze distant. “I used to think I had to fight it all on my own. But now... I’m starting to see that having the right people around you makes a difference.”

You smiled. “It does.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

“You’re not what I expected,” Alex said suddenly.

“Neither are you,” you replied, your tone light but genuine.

The next morning, Lando had another surprise in store. “We’re going go-karting!” he announced at breakfast.

Franco groaned. “You’re just looking for an excuse to humiliate us, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Lando said with a grin.

The go-kart track was tucked away on the edge of town, a modest circuit with tight corners and plenty of opportunities for friendly competition.

“I’m calling it now,” Franco said as he strapped on his helmet. “I’m winning this.”

“In your dreams,” Oscar shot back.

As the race began, it quickly became clear that Lando was in his element, weaving through the corners with ease. Franco and Oscar were close behind, their competitive streaks on full display.

You found yourself in a heated battle with Alex, neither of you willing to back down.

“Not bad,” Alex called out as you overtook him on a straight.

“Thanks,” you replied, grinning as you sped ahead.

By the end of the race, Lando predictably came out on top, given this was one of his home tracks.

On the last night of the break, Lando organized a bonfire in the garden. The group gathered around the crackling flames, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot chocolate.

“This has been one of the best breaks I’ve had in a long time,” Lando said, his eyes reflecting the firelight.

“Agreed,” Franco added. “Good vibes all around.”

Oscar nodded. “It’s nice to just... relax for once.”

Alex was quieter, but when he finally spoke, his words carried weight. “I didn’t expect to enjoy this as much as I did. But I’m glad I came.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the fire. “Me too.”

As the night wore on, the conversation turned to lighter topics—funny racing stories, embarrassing moments, and future plans. By the time the fire began to die down, you felt a sense of contentment that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. And as you looked around at the group, you realized that, despite everything, you were finally finding your place.

The second half of autumn break began with a quiet flight across the Atlantic. The laughter and warmth of the countryside getaway with my friends felt like a distant memory as I boarded the plane to the United States. It wasn’t a trip I’d planned on taking, but I knew I needed to go. My mother’s grave and my family back home were calling to me in ways I couldn’t ignore any longer. It had been half a year since she had passed. 

The long flight gave me too much time to think. I replayed moments from the past year over and over—my mother’s smile, her laughter, the way she always seemed to know exactly what to say when I needed it most. The thought of standing in front of her grave filled me with equal parts dread and longing.

Touching down in the U.S., I rented a car and drove the familiar roads to my family’s home. The neighborhood hadn’t changed much; the same towering oak trees lined the streets, their leaves ablaze in shades of orange and red. Pulling into the driveway, I saw my father waiting on the porch, his hands in his pockets and a soft, sad smile on his face.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping me in a tight hug as soon as I stepped out of the car. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Dad,” I replied, though my voice trembled slightly.

Inside, the house felt both familiar and foreign. The scent of my father’s cooking lingered, but the emptiness left by my mother was impossible to ignore. We spent the evening catching up, sharing stories and memories. He asked about racing, and I did my best to keep the conversation light.

The next morning, I went to see her.

The cemetery was quiet, the autumn breeze rustling through the trees as I made my way to her grave. I carried a bouquet of white roses, her favorite, the petals trembling in my unsteady hands.

Her headstone came into view, simple but elegant, her name etched in bold letters alongside the words “Even in the darkest times, there is light.” I knelt down, placing the flowers at its base.

“Hi, Mom,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the wind. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come back.”

The words spilled out of me before I could stop them. I told her everything—about the races, the friends I’d made, the rumors, and the way I’d tried to stay strong. I told her how much I missed her, how much I wished she could be there to see everything I’d worked for.

Tears streamed down my face as I spoke, my chest heaving with the weight of everything I’d been carrying. The grief, the pressure, the loneliness—it all came tumbling out in the quiet stillness of that moment.

When I finally stood to leave, I touched her headstone gently. “I’ll keep making you proud,” I said softly. “I promise.”

The flight back to the UK was quieter, my heart still heavy but a little less burdened. When I got home, I dropped my bags in the corner of my apartment and collapsed onto the couch. The silence felt deafening, my thoughts swirling in the absence of distraction.

The next day, I stayed in bed, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, avoiding texts and calls. It wasn’t until a loud knock sounded at my door that I finally stirred.

When I opened the door, I was met with Franco’s grinning face and Lando holding up a bag of snacks like it was a golden trophy.

“Surprise!” Franco announced, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, my voice tinged with both confusion and disbelief.

“We’re here to save you from yourself,” Lando replied, walking past me into the living room. “Snacks, movies, and bad jokes—you’re welcome.”

“I don’t—”

“No excuses,” Franco interrupted, plopping onto the couch and patting the seat beside him. “Now, come on. We’ve got a whole plan to cheer you up.”

For the next few hours, the two of them worked tirelessly to pull me out of my funk. Franco regaled me with exaggerated stories from his childhood, complete with dramatic reenactments, while Lando insisted on a Mario Kart rematch.

“You cheated last time,” Lando said, squinting at me as I crossed the finish line first.

“How do you cheat in Mario Kart?” I asked, laughing as Franco shouted at the screen after yet another crash.

“She’s just better than you,” Franco said with a smirk, earning a thrown pillow from Lando.

The room was filled with laughter, the weight on my chest easing with every joke and playful jab.

As the evening wore on, the three of us found ourselves sprawled out on the couch, empty snack wrappers and soda cans littering the coffee table.

“Thanks for this,” I said softly, glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

Franco slung an arm around my shoulders. “That’s what we’re here for, Hermosa.”

Lando nodded, his expression surprisingly serious. “You’re not alone, you know. We’ve got your back.”

Their words, simple as they were, meant everything in that moment. 

The week leading up to the Texas Grand Prix came quickly, leaving little time to dwell on lingering emotions. I threw myself into training, every ounce of focus channeled into being ready for the race ahead. Franco and Lando had returned to their routines, checking in occasionally with texts and funny videos, but for the most part, I was on my own.

Mornings began with early runs through the crisp autumn air, my breath visible in the cool light of dawn. My trainer, Marcus, met me at the gym for grueling sessions of strength and endurance training.

“You’re getting faster,” he commented one afternoon, timing my sprints on the treadmill. “But Texas isn’t just about speed. Those high-speed corners will push your endurance to the limit.”

“I know,” I replied, sweat dripping down my face. “That’s why I’m here.”

Evenings were reserved for simulator sessions, pouring over data and refining race strategies. The Circuit of the Americas was a demanding track—long straights, tight technical sections, and an elevation change that would punish anyone who wasn’t ready.

By the end of the week, my body ached, but I felt more prepared than I had in months. The exhaustion was a good kind, the kind that came from knowing you’d done everything possible to be ready.

Packing for the trip was oddly calming. I folded my team-issued shirts and boots with care, double-checking that every piece of gear was accounted for. The Texas race was a big one—not just because it was in the U.S., but because it marked the start of the season’s final stretch. Though technically being one of the home races for me was also pretty cool. Every point counted now, and every mistake would be magnified.

As I zipped up my suitcase, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was a message from Lando.

Lando: "Ready for BBQ and cowboy hats? 🤠" Me: "Ready to beat you on track, cowboy." Lando: "Bold talk. We’ll see. Safe flight!"

Franco chimed in shortly after, his text as dramatic as ever.

Franco: "Texas awaits, Hermosa. Don’t forget your boots!" Me: "Do you even own boots?" Franco: "No, but I’ll buy some just to show you up."

Their messages brought a smile to my face, easing the tension that had been building all week.

The flight to Austin felt different than the one I’d taken just days earlier. This time, I wasn’t traveling to mourn or reflect—I was heading back for battle. The familiar hum of the plane was oddly comforting, a reminder of how far I’d come.

When I landed, the Texas sun was already blazing, a stark contrast to the cool autumn air I’d left behind in the UK. My team had arranged for a car to pick me up, and as I was driven to the hotel, I caught glimpses of the city’s vibrant streets.

Austin was alive with energy, the anticipation for the race palpable even from a distance. Billboards advertising the Grand Prix lined the streets, fans in team gear crowded around restaurants and bars, and the hum of excitement was impossible to ignore.

After settling into the hotel, I joined my team for a quick debrief. The engineers ran through the car setup, data from the simulator sessions, and what to expect during the practice sessions.

“Your sector times are strong,” one of them said, flipping through a tablet. “We’ll focus on tire management during FP1. Texas can be brutal on the tires, especially with the heat.”

“Got it,” I replied, my mind already shifting into race mode.

That night, I sat by the window in my hotel room, looking out over the city. The skyline was a mix of modern skyscrapers and old-school charm, a fitting metaphor for the duality of the sport—glamorous on the surface but grueling underneath.

I thought about my mother, about how she’d always supported my dreams, even when they seemed impossible. Being back in the U.S. brought a strange mix of emotions, but I knew she’d want me to focus on the task ahead.

Pulling out my phone, I sent a quick text to Franco and Lando.

Me: "Made it to Austin. Don’t worry, I’ll save you some BBQ." Franco: "Please, you’re going to eat it all before we even get there." Lando: "Don’t forget to try the brisket. It’s life-changing."

Their quick replies brought a sense of normalcy, grounding me in the chaos of the race week ahead. Tomorrow, the real work would begin, but for now, I allowed myself a moment to breathe.

Texas awaited, and I was ready.

[delopsia]

Icing | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 5,300 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, improper use of icing, food is mentioned several times, blow jobs, grinding, hand jobs, overstimulation, planning for a wedding 💐 it's porn with a very vague plot Brief Summary: This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. 

"Are you sure this is how we're supposed to do it?" 

"What makes you ask that?" Bobby chirps, barely audible over the hum of the hand mixer. His eyes flick down to the cake pan held between your hands. "Seems perfectly fine to me." 

The beater bumps into the edge of the bowl. Icing splatters across the countertop. 

You think that might be the whisper of a swear, crossing the room. 

"I don't know, it just...feels weird," but you're pulling open the door to the oven, anyhow. A plume of heat washes across your face, like the blaze of a campfire, threatening to roast you alive.

But fortunately, the only thing being baked is this tiny pan of cake batter. Locked away to its doom of inhumane temperatures until it rises to perfection. 

"Honey, there are only so many ways you can bake a cake," Bob's entirely unaware of the blue icing staining his cheek as he reaches for a damp cloth. Now that you give it a squint, you reckon it might be up in his hair, too. 

"Well, last I checked," reaching out to swipe at his face with your thumb, raising it to your lips. Different color. Same taste as before. "Most folks don't have to bake their own wedding cake samples."

His head turns back to the thin list of instructions, scanning over where he left off, and—oh, well, he's got blue in his hair, too. 

"Hey, get a load of this," Rhett's voice echoes from the living room, socked feet thumping across the hardwood. "They're sellin' that ol' rodeo property in town." 

You're not entirely sure what woke him; if it was the clatter of skillets as you clumsily withdrew them from the oven, or if it was the bickering over why Bobby continues to use the appliance as a storage unit. It had to have been something you two did; fifteen minutes is astronomically short for a Rhett nap.

Maybe he never went to sleep to begin with because he's got a newspaper in hand. Today's date sits proudly in the corner, next to his thumb; he must have picked it up from the gas station on his drive home. 

"We should buy it," waggling the paper in his hand, like it'll somehow convince you and Bobby to scrounge up ninety-five grand for an arena that has been abandoned for the better half of two decades.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Bob's mixer kicks back on, an obnoxious noise sounding through the kitchen. Surely, there have to be quieter models out there. "We'll put an offer in next week."

"Ha. Ha," Rhett's eyes roll, the newspaper falling onto the recently cleared counter, right where Bobby was saving space for the blue icing. "Funny." 

His mouth opens like he's got more to say, but nothing slips past those thin lips. Soft blue eyes flicker across the counter, scanning across your rainbow assortment of icings, the sample baggies of sprinkles and candles, and the portfolio of decorative figures. Not one of the premade couples comes with a third partner, but you're not entirely sure if you want to go that route to begin with.

Rhett's nose wrinkles; lost. You've got nothing more than a shrug to offer.

"All I'm sayin' is," picking back up on the hanging conversation, he reaches out to poke his finger into an open dish of sprinkles. The ones made to look like pearls. There were more, but half got lost when you accidentally ripped the package open. "You'll have a lotta time on your hands when ya leave the Navy."

The mixer shuts off. 

"Who said I was leaving the Navy?" 

Rhett's lifting a pearl to his mouth, obnoxious tongue poking out to catch it. "You, last night." 

"And the night before that." You add, with a nudge of your shoulder.

And the night before that one. Sometime five mornings ago. Again, last week. After the most recent deployment and the one before that. Before the engagement and way before the house was bought...actually, when has he not talked about this?

The pearl cracks so loud that you almost wonder if it chipped Rhett's tooth. His brows furrow, shifting the hunk of sugar around in his mouth. "The hell are you two doin'...?" 

"We're baking our wedding cake samples," and even with Bob saying it so matter of factly, it doesn't sound right. Nothing about this picture is correct.

Rhett's head tilts to the side. Even the dark hair cascading into his face can't hide those questioning eyes. 

"See?" Throwing your hand out as if Bobby hasn't noticed the puppy-dog of a man standing on the other side of the island. "Even he's confused by this."

Nobody bakes their own wedding cake samples. This is your sign to find a better bakery! Before the stakes grow even higher! 

Careful, Bob pulls the mixer from the bowl, turning around to drop the beaters into the sink. "He's always confused."

"Hey!" Rhett squawks. "Ya jus' gonna say that 'n turn your back to me?" 

Not a word leaves Bob's mouth, deliberately keeping his back to you and Rhett as if to drive home his unspoken point. He's doing his best to remain firm, but even so, you can see the way the corner of his lip rises with every passing second. Must be able to hear the way Rhett's rounding the corner, big hands reaching out to grab hold of bony hips. 

It's a little too easy for him to force Bob to turn. 

"What, can't say it to my face?" Any venom in Rhett's tone is lost in the midst of his chuckle. Amused. 

Still, Bobby remains quiet, defiantly folding his arms across his chest, like that will somehow stop the smile from bursting onto his pale face. It's a losing game. Rhett knows it. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it.

Rhett's tilting his head, leaning close. "Say." Kiss. "It." Kiss. Bob's hand reaches out toward the counter. "To."  Kiss. "My." Kiss. His finger dips into blue icing. "Face." Kiss. "Pal."  Kiss.

One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip, smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.

Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.

...huh.

"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too. 

You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?" 

"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here." 

Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made. 

"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls. 

"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow? 

Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?

Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?

Idle, Rhett's hand dips into some of the icing. Slow. Flying just below the radar of Bobby's peripheral. "So why'd ya make every color?" 

And your poor WSO hasn't the slightest damn clue, reaching for yet another container of sprinkles. "To see what—" 

Rhett's big hand presses into Bob's pale cheek, vibrant orange icing splattering against his skin. Dragging down, down, down his neck and onto the little bit of chest peeking out from the low collar of his shirt. 

You know what's going to happen before it even starts. Bobby's fingers dive into a pool of pale yellow. Smacking it into Rhett's broad chest, gets the base of his neck and all. And Rhett's reaching for the pink, dragging it across an unwitting forearm. Bob's going for green. Reaching for Rhett's scruffy jaw. Giggles bubble through the air. 

Blue splatters across the kitchen floor and across your shirt. 

Your white shirt. "Hey!"

"He started it!" Bob squeaks. But he's stumbling backward, bumping into you as he reaches for another bowl—ammunition for the next attack. 

All Rhett can do is grin. "Did I?" 

Insufferable. 

Your hand darts out from your side, venturing to the counter. 

Purple splatters across Bobby's clothed belly. The only spot you could reach. 

"Both of you?" Bobby's squawking. Twisting. Turning until he's got his back to the sink and not you or Rhett, his vibrantly colored hands held toward the ceiling. Surrender, or preparing his next move? You're not sure yet. 

God, he's a mess. Splatters of orange, pink, blue, and plain white, stretching from his nose to his belly; you think there might be a little bit of purple lurking beneath his chin. Rhett's not doing much better, green clinging to his jaw, chest decorated with a vibrant smear of yellow. 

"What else are we s'pposed t' do with all this icin'?" He asks, lifting his fingers to his lips, short pink tongue darting out to lap up the sweetness clinging to his skin. 

Bob's eyes roll. You wonder if he's noticed the drop of green on his lens. "Well, wearing it shouldn't even make the list!" But it's nothing compared to the icing on his neck, sickly sweet and spread thin over the thick vein that bulges from beneath his skin. 

"I can think of a few ideas," muttering, entranced. 

Out of his peripheral, Rhett meets your eye. The corner of his lip twitches up, fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' so loud that it echoes through the kitchen. 

"What..." Bob swallows. Adam's apple rising and falling. Soft blues flicker between you and Rhett; must be able to read the thoughts filtering through your head. "Would that entail, exactly?"

You don't know who steps forward first. But one way or another, your sticky hands are finding their way to Bobby's chest, bracing yourself as you lean in. Rhett's so close that his hair tickles your cheek; he had a longer distance to cross than you did, and yet he's already beating you to the point. Licking a fat, wet stripe up the side of Bob's neck. 

And you're in hot pursuit. Licking up the other side, trailing across that thick vein, multicolored icing greeting your taste buds. But that sugary sweetness is nearly dulled in comparison to the soft mewl that rolls out of Bobby's mouth, his head rolling backward. 

"Okay..." he breathes, "that's..."

The flavor of this icing is far from your favorite; it isn't even close to the one you had in mind when contacting the bakery, but you can hardly pay it any attention. Nothing but a mild annoyance when you've got this to preoccupy your mind with. Bob's hand, working its way up your side. Rhett's soft hum, downright delighted with this predicament. 

Careful, your lips press to a soft patch of skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly. Not enough to bruise his terribly sensitive skin, but still managing to leave behind a faint redness in your wake. One tiny little mark after another, spots blending amongst the vivid orange that you've yet to lick up.

This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. Him and his sticky, heaving chest, squirming as you work lower, lower, lower. Teeth grazing across his collar, tugging on the flesh stretched thin over the bone there. 

Rhett's shoulder knocks into your side, a little too broad to be squeezing himself in next to you. His hands venture to the hem of Bob's horribly stained t-shirt, yanking upward.

"The cake," Bob's panted protest is hardly one at all, "you can't...it'll burn." And yet he's obediently lifting his arms, letting Rhett pull the shirt over his head. Maybe letting it fall to the floor isn't the best idea, but you're in no position to raise even the slightest objection.

"We have time," you murmur. Lie. You don't even know if you set the timer. 

Frankly, you don't care. It's just too damn easy to forget about. Letting your mouth find its way down Bob's pale chest, a thin trail of saliva marking your path as if you could possibly become lost in this familiar terrain. 

But even though you've had a head start, Rhett still manages to beat you to the checkpoint, his lips wrapping around a delicate nipple. So sudden that Bob jerks beneath you, his feet stumbling. Two can play this game, though, and Rhett can only pay attention to one thing at a time. 

Without the slightest warning, you sink down. Knees thunking heavily against the cold kitchen tile. They'll ache when you ultimately climb back to your feet, but that's for the future version of you to worry about. Right now, your bold hand is soothing over the heavy bulge in these sweats, feeling how Bobby twitches from the simplest touch. 

"Can't believe you're already hard, Robby," teasing, your thumb swipes right beneath his tip. The wet spot forming in the thin gray material is like a reward.

"You're..." his head rolls, fingers tugging at Rhett's hair, "surprised?" 

Not in the slightest. 

It's Rhett who reaches for the thick elastic of Bob's waistband. Watching through thick lashes as you help pull it downso swiftly that his cock brushes your cheek as it springs up to smack against his belly. Flushed a bright ruby, a small bead of precum running down the underside of him.

"Shit," Rhett swears; it's so quiet that you can hear the way his knees creak as he settles down next to you. 

And now both of you are down here, caught up in some kind of perfect synchrony, leaning forward to run your tongues up the sides of Bob's cock. Relishing in that shuddered gasp as you and Rhett meet at his head, lips brushing in what was meant to be a sloppy kiss, but it's more of a clash of tongues than anything. Broken apart by Bob's soft cock head, caught perfectly in the middle.

"You...." Bob's hand bumps into your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there, "fuck, you two are..." 

Rhett's chuckle is all it takes to have Bob's sharp hips bucking forward, pushing himself right past your parted lips. Wasn't exactly next up on your itinerary, but you're rolling with it as if it was. Sucking gently, tongue swiping back and forth beneath it. Teasing while you still can. 

Not a single beat is missed. With the delicate hollow of your cheeks and the lazy way Rhett mouths at the side of him, it's almost hard to believe that this wasn't choreographed earlier in the day. As if anyone could have predicted that Bob was serious about this whole 'baking cake samples' thing.

"Y' likin' that, Bobby?" Rhett hums, pausing to graze his teeth against delicate skin. "Watchin' both of us on our knees for ya?" 

You're leaning back, and Rhett's moving in to take over for you. Doesn't need to use his hands, as he sucks that leaking tip into his mouth.

Bob sucks in a breath. His other hand dives into Rhett's hair, tangling in the mess of it. "How could I—mhm, not?" 

All of a sudden, Rhett's sliding further down, eyes scrunching shut as Bob knocks into the back of his throat, but that's never been enough to deter him. It's a wonder he's got a gag reflex at all. You can't help but twist yourself around, a hand coming to rest on his lower back, bracing yourself as you find your way to the underside of his jaw. Air audibly puffs through his nose. Always has been sensitive here. 

Sweet, too, with all of this icing to be licked up. There simply isn't another person cut out for this sort of job. The artificial flavor is far from your favorite, but you can't be inclined to share. Not when he tries to lean into it, a muffled grunt rumbling out of him. 

Above you, Bob can't close his mouth. "That's...oh, that's—"

A shrill beep tears through the air. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

So you did set the timer. Lucky him.

And Rhett laughs. Barely able to pull away before he chokes, swollen lips glistening as they meld with the shape of his smile. "Guess ya gotta check that, flyboy."

This is the first and likely the last time you'll see Bob Floyd check an oven with his sweats pooling around his thighs, heavy cock bouncing as he leans down to see what he's doing. Is the cake done? Or burnt? You haven't the slightest clue because Rhett's kissing at the side of your neck, and any self-control you had left dissolves in an instant.

"Shame y' didn't get more of this on ya," he's speaking into your skin, vibrating right up into your head and rattling all your thoughts off their metaphorical shelves. 

The stain on your brand-new shirt is speaking otherwise. "This stuff doesn't even taste that great."

"'s good when it's on one of you," he does, unfortunately, make a really good point. The kind that lets him get away with pushing your pants down your legs,  underwear and all, right here in the damn kitchen. So much for trying to break the habit of kitchen shenanigans. 

You wonder if this memory will wander back into your mind the next time you invite guests over and eat in this kitchen. 

Rhett's hands settle on the sides of your waist, pulling you into him as he leans backward. Knocking the back of his head against the tile can't feel good, but he doesn't react in the slightest. Too busy pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his wide hips. They hitch upward, so strong that they push you along with it, as he shoves his shorts down his legs, cock audibly smacking against his belly, swiping against your thigh as it drifts past.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Your hands brace against his chest, chasing the illusion of stability.

"Mhm," is the best he's got to offer, and he's hardly got to guide you any further. You're already beating him to the punch, grinding down against his length, letting him slip between your parted lips. 

Fuck, it's been a while since you last felt his weeping cock head drag against your clit. You wonder if he can feel the way you involuntarily clench around nothing, sent into a mindless spasm from that alone.

Bobby's knees audibly knock against the floor, and you're not entirely sure where his sweats went. "You two move too damn fast."

"Maybe you're just slow," there's nothing but playfulness in your tone, albeit the slightest bit breathless. You can't help it. Not when you've got this going on between your legs. Rhett and his big cock rolling up into you, chasing the feeling of your pussy against him. Beads of precum slicken the glide, every motion punctuated by a sickly wet little noise.

"'n ya say I'm the one always givin' ya trouble," Rhett's not doing much to help his own case, but then again, you don't think that was his goal. 

It's an awkward angle, with Bob sitting on his knees and Rhett laying against the floor, but he's craning his head up, tongue greeting the underside of Bob's cock. A fleeting sort of thing that only lasts a moment or three.

"You're gonna upset your shoulder if you keep doing that," Bobby hums, not making any move to stop Rhett from trying at it again, lips stubbornly wrapping around his mushroom tip. 

There's a spin in your head that wasn't there before. Lightheaded over the sight before you and the sweet throb of your cunt, sliding against Rhett's shaft like you're aiming to win a first-place trophy. Hands flat against his heaving chest, trembling arms hardly keeping your body upright as your hips roll. 

"Can feel ya gettin' wetter round me," Rhett's eyelashes are fluttering, and it's all he can do to keep himself from knocking his skull against the tile again. "Fuck." 

"As if you're not dripping like a damn faucet," your words hitching on a gasp, the embers of a whine building in the back of your throat. Getting off to this wasn't on your list of plans, but with every soft massage of his plush tip, you're growing closer to writing it at the very top. 

Rhett's back arches off the ground, legs kicking beneath you, like he can feel the heat that's flooding your lower belly. Makes it so damn hard for you to keep moving your body back and forth, hopelessly grinding back and forth, obsessed with the way he kisses your clit on every pass. 

"God, you two should see yourselves," Bobby says it like he's caught up in a trance; you don't think you've seen him blink since he knelt down here.

"Enjoying the show?" Speaking through a gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your eyes are rolling backward, and Rhett's twitching against you, and it's so, so much. 

His hands settle on your aching thighs. Blunt nails digging into the meat of them. Does nothing to ward off the shiver that's settled into the muscle there. But his hips are rising up off the floor, and he's rutting himself into you properly now, rubbing against your poor clit over and over and over. 

"Rhett—" whimpering high in your throat. Head tilting back. You're...he's...

"C'mon," in that raspy tone of his, wavering with the motion of his body, "cum on my cock."

Bob's cool hand glides up the side of your neck, and that is it. 

A choked noise echoes through the kitchen and into the living room. Spasming, cumming to the drag of him against your clit alone.  Clenching helplessly around nothing but air, a ripple running up your spine. Your arms crumple out from under you. Stars sparkle behind your eyelids like the night sky. Falling into a messy heap on Rhett's chest, helpless as his cock keeps rubbing against your dripping cunt. 

"Ah—Rhett!" Jolting. Oversensitive. And it's all you can do to slide off of him, letting gravity drag you down to his side instead, a leg lazily sprawled overtop his thigh. You don't know if he's laughing or if you're hearing the hammer of your heart beating away in your ears. 

"Awful quick," Bob's eyes flick to you, hardly able to conceal the playful glint in them.  

You ought to give him trouble for such a comment, but your head is still spinning like it's about to float up into the clouds. The best you can do is to swipe out with your hand, smacking against his belly. "Like you're any better." 

Rhett's chest rumbles with a chuckle. You're not entirely sure when he got his arm around you, but it's carefully squeezing you into him. Keeping you snug against his chest as Bobby moves to settle between his legs. 

And this...this is a hell of an angle to be observing from. You don't have to move your eyes or tilt your head at all, comfortably gazing at the sight of Rhett's plush thighs caging Bob's waist. On its own, your hand darts out, grabbing a handful of one. There's so much more to squeeze compared to when you first met; he's exchanged that wiry frame for something thicker, stronger, too. 

Bob's reaching for his own cock, still wet with saliva, as he leans forward, fingers darting out to wrap around Rhett, too. 

One stroke and Rhett's hips lift off the floor. "Shit." 

He's so damn wet, with what mess you've made of him and the precum spilling out of his inflamed tip like a dripping faucet. Bob's thumb swipes out, collecting the clear fluid and spreading it onto himself, but before he's done there's already another bead of it forming. 

"Good lord, Rhett," Bob mutters, and you're not entirely sure where he got that packet of lube from, tearing it open with his teeth, already beginning to pour the sticky substance onto their cocks.

So much for trying to break Rhett of that habit.

If he'd give Rhett a few minutes, you think he'd spill out enough to warrant forgoing lube altogether, but Bobby can only stretch his patience so far. Never has been able to hold out for very long when it comes to you and Rhett. That big hand of his gives an experimental stroke, a wet squelch sounding through the delicate air; you don't know who groans louder.

What you do know is that the sight before you is downright obscene. Rhett's legs squeezing around Bobby like he'll disappear if he doesn't, their heavy cocks twitching into one another. How Rhett's tip has a darker shade of red as compared to Bob's pale pink. They look so similar until they're right next to each other like this; it's the only way to tell that Bob's a fraction longer but not quite as thick as Rhett is. 

Bob jerks forward, pressing impossibly closer. "Does that feel good?" As if he's not speaking around his own strangled breath. 

You have to lift your head to get a better look at Rhett's face. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth worrying his thin bottom lip, cheeks flushed with a newfound redness. "Uhuh." His head shakes with what you think is a nod.

Maybe that's an answer Bob was looking for, but you want to hear more. "Use your words, cowboy." 

"It feels—" Swallowing hard. A microscopic mewl breaks past his lips. "Feels good!"

He's already dissolving into a mess of squirms, wriggling back and forth, the swift stroke of Bob's hand too much for him to handle. Bucking upward, only to try and draw away, unshaven jaw shivering like a leaf in the wind. 

Your fingers drift upward, nails dragging across the soft meet of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his balls as you drift past. Lightly rolling them in your palm would draw the prettiest sounds out of him, but today, you've got a slightly different plan in mind. Fingertips wander into the soft expanse of skin behind them, rubbing in loose circles. 

A pitchy cry rings in your ears. Rhett's hand flies up. Tugging at his own hair. Desperate to grab hold of something. "Fuck! 'm gonna..." His head thrashes, pretty neck barred to the world. "I'm, I'm—"

"You fixin' to cum for us, sweet thing?" Bobby's voice sounds akin to thunder, a little twang in his tone. His thumb darts out, rapidly swiping back and forth across Rhett's plush cock head.

Curls bounce with Rhett's nod. Hardly able to close his mouth and stifle his moan. Yet, it's so loud that you can hear it anyway. Your fingers keep spiraling, pressing the slightest bit harder. You're almost certain that you can feel the sporadic twitch of muscle as his back arches, cumming with a wail. 

A rope of white paints across his belly. The next one caught by Bobby's still moving hand. Disappearing into the squelching mix of lube and precum and your own juices, some kind of lewd recipe for disaster. Rhett's hips jerk. Yanks a grunt out of him. 

But Bobby's not stopping. Still pumping their cocks together as if nothing ever happened. If anything, you think he's going faster, and it's got Rhett jumping around like a wounded animal. Mouth wide open. Brows knit together. 

"Too much, too much, that's not—ah!"  He squeals. Panting hard. Frantically pawing at Bob's hand, but it's doing nothing to end his torment. 

"Hang on for me," Bob's eyes scrunch shut. Hissing through his teeth. Close. "You can do it."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't, that—haah!" Rhett's twitching. Wailing. Legs kicking in the air.Still smacking at Bob's rapidly jerking fist as if that can possibly save him, but he's not uttering a single note of his safe word. Merely dissolving into a frenzied babble of, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!"

That's all it takes for Bob's pale blue eyes to roll into the back of his head with a soft, deepened groan. Set off by the babbled cry of a helpless cowboy, trembling like a leaf beneath him. Rope after rope of cum, splattering against Rhett's lower belly and all over his softening cock. A visible shiver rakes its way up Bob's spine, and for a moment you think his glasses are about to fall off.

 Finally, finally, the motion of that big hand is beginning to slow, loosening until Rhett's length slips from his grip entirely, smacking against his skin. Between the wateriness of Rhett's eyes and the redness in Bob's cheeks, you're not entirely sure where to look. Each are tempting in their own right, but not enough time to focus on both. 

You suppose your distraction is why it takes a moment to realize that Bob's actually moving. Leaning down at a snail's pace, his lips pressing to your forehead, lingering for a moment or three before moving on to Rhett's, pressing a kiss to him, too. "Maybe we should call a different bakery," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze flickering to you. 

If this is all it took, then next time, you'll skip the arguing and jump right into kissing down his neck. "You think?" There's a hoarseness to your voice that wasn't there before; you blame the icing. 

Whether or not he caught the sarcasm in your tone, you have no idea. 

"Yeah..." Bobby pauses as Rhett leans in to steal a proper kiss on the lips. "Now we've gotta do something with all these ingredients."

Rhett hums. Sounds akin to a cat purring. "I have a few ideas." You wonder if those ideas include smearing each other with icing again or offhandedly snacking on sprinkles for the next several months.

"I'll hear you out on those ideas," yawning, a strangled little noise escaping you, "when we're in bed."

A valid request, but Bobby's wrinkling his nose at it. "How about a bath, then bed."

"Y' act like we were just rollin' in mud," Rhett's fingers tap at your shoulder, gently squeezing. 

"I love you two, but I draw the line at sticky sheets." Well, if Bob wants you to take a bath so damn bad, then he's gonna have to help you find the strength to get off this floor. Your hand reaches out, opening and closing in a grabbing motion. 

It takes a couple seconds of looking at it for him to realize what you're asking, but after a moment, he slips his hand into yours, holding it as he rises to his feet. Something in your knee audibly pops as he pulls you up, an ache blooming in the bone from digging into the floor earlier. Your feet stumble, knocking into Rhett and nearly taking him back down with you.

"You're a mess, sweetheart," Bob laughs, pulling on your hand as if you're still due to fall at any moment. You're not entirely sure when you acquired the purple icing on your thigh or the smear of green running down your leg; you refuse to acknowledge the array of colors on the floor until after you've had a nap. 

"So are you," not an ounce of venom in your tone, despite the attempt at mustering some kind of sarcastic bite. Behind you, Rhett hums his agreement. Someone started this, and it certainly was not you or Rhett. 

"No, I'm not," Bob's beaming, almost proud of himself. "You two licked me clean, remember?" 

It'll take the rest of the day for him to notice the icing on his glasses. 

[tinykonig]

König x Reader Headcanons

this is my first post!!!! im so excited!! i have had an extremely annoying day and just wanted to write these down to cheer me up a bit- hope you guys like them as well :) some of these are self indulgent so forgive me. im writing my könig fic but its taking a while since finals are upon me :/ Warnings: NSFW at the bottom, I put an indicator before :)

He is an extremely active listener. If he’s standing and you are talking to him, he has his feet pointed towards you and his head ducked down a bit so he can hear you better since he’s so tall. Nods along to whatever you say and generally has attentive body language

Remembers the smallest details from any conversation. You tell him a story about your childhood pet and months later he will casually say the pet’s name in another conversation. It always takes you off guard a little

When he realizes he likes you, he panics. Writes frantically in his journal for about 3 hours about it.

You catch on to his little crush pretty quickly, given how he lingers near you more than anyone else and gets shy at the smallest interactions

When you finally confess to him that you feel similarly he is so incredibly happy but flustered. Had to take a cold shower that night to calm himself down

Gives you little gifts all the time (one of his love languages for sure). A drawing he did, a flower he saw on the side of the road, some candy he brought from home, etc

Also collects anything you may gift him. Hoards them and protects them like they are living and breathing

Goes through them on nights when you two have to be apart. He can be extremely sentimental

If you are an artist in anyway, he is your HYPE MAN. Hangs up your drawings/poems/photographs, whatever it may be, in his little dorm room

He melts if you cook/bake him something homemade. Like seriously might get choked up. He loves the smell of baked goods, it always makes him feel right at home. You always try to bake him something on his birthday and he is over the moon about it

Protective but knows you can handle yourself most of the time. Despite his introverted nature he will defend you loudly and aggressively if he senses that it’s necessary

He loves any little weird quirks you may have. You love the smell of clean laundry? He thought it was so cute when you would sniff the shirts coming out of the dryer

OH OH OH LOVES THE THING WHERE YOU HAVE ONE HEADPHONE AND HE HAS THE OTHER AND YOU LISTEN TO THE SAME MUSIC AND JUST HANG OUT. oh man

Accidentally bumps into/knocks you with his hands or arms soooo often. He’s a big boy who doesnt quite have spatial awareness sometimes

He feels so bad everytime it happens and just cradles your face in his hands and apologizing so rapidly (it never really hurts but you like the attention so)

If you dont know german he will give you a “german word of the day” and will say it to you the entire day in context until you guess what it means

Is so excited when you guess right

Not gonna be into PDA it’s too much for him. He’s just constantly your shadow 24/7 in public. The most is having a hand on your back or shoulder so you don’t get lost in a crowd

In private however. Clingiest boy alive (his other love language is physical touch)

Lives for you laying your head on his lap. Plays with your hair or traces your features while he talks to you about his day or a book he started reading

Has the most expressive eyes in the world

I headcannon him as ginger, his hair slightly shaggy (haircuts give him anxiety so he does it himself when it starts to get in his eyes) and wavy

light freckles on his cheeks and across his nose!!!

With his blue eyes he is truly such a picture of beauty

He isn’t super weird about showing his face to you. When you start hanging out outside of work duties he doesn’t wear it, and appreciates that you dont bring attention to it

Sometimes you make a little comment about him being pretty and his face is on FIRE but he just quietly says thank you and has a little smile on his face

Compliments you shyly but often, will not make eye contact with you when he says it

Writes you super heartfelt notes that he will leave you to find because he can better express himself that way

Don’t get me wrong though he has his moments where he can be very very cocky!!

For example: right after a successful mission when he is still riding the adrenaline rush, he is much touchier with you even in front of others

If you need him to reach something he loves that and gets a little power trip. Teases you and makes you jump to get it from him a bit

If he notices that he made YOU blush, wooo boy he loves to tease you. “Did you like that, hmm?”, with a sickly sweet smile

NSFW BELOW

The first time was extremely soft and slow and sweet. He was very eager but very unsure of himself. Didn’t know where to put his hands. You had to guide him and reassure him and he didn’t last very long but it was sweet

He whimpered the entire time

After that, he slowly gains confidence and learns what works for you two

Still likes for you to be in control mostly, with rare soft dom moments

Will try almost anything once!!

Loves praise. Too insecure for degradation and absolutely can’t degrade you either

Loves to eat pussy sooooo much… You have a bad day? He’s on his knees in the shower with one of you thighs on his shoulder. Its your birthday? He got you like 9 presents but the finale is cumming on his tongue 4 times

He fucking growls sometimes when he’s overstimulated and its the greatest thing to grace your ears

Says “I love you” like a chant when he’s cumming in you

Wants to see your face the whole time

Ironically he is great at making eye contact in the bedroom

He has the sexiest thighs in the world

[nightmare--void]

True Detective Season 1 AU where Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto are homicide detectives working on a case together

Geto is an excellent detective. At least that's what he heard from his superiors when he finally got a chance to work on a case that will most likely shape his career. For better or for worse but he tries not to think about it too much right now.

He has two daughters he loves, he has family and friends he cares about and a partner he doesn't know and struggles to understand. Sometimes he thinks Gojo is able see more that other people can but there's so much bullshit Gojo says that he just refuses to believe it. Because if he believes any of it he'll have to accept that his whole world was wrong and he brought two kids there.

He goes to Gojo's house once — white walls, a plain mattress and a picture of a dark haired kid he wasn't supposed to see hidden under some books. "I don't drink," Gojo says when he returns to the room — referencing that pitiful invitation to join his family for dinner. "But I can come if you want. I'll bring a lemon pie and some flowers. That OK?"

"Sure," Geto tries to fix the books before catching his gaze. "You know I can't stop thinking about one thing."

"Hm?"

"Why do you even do all of that?" he points at the room. "I mean how do you spend your money? What's all of that for? Your job, everything."

"Because I know I can help. I'm doing what I'm good at."

He's the best detective Geto ever met in his life actually.

But no one seems to believe Gojo when he finds a connection between their current case and all those kids that went missing in the area during the last twenty years. Nobody seems to care about them anymore. Sure, they're not like two girls he comes home to after his work — clean nice dresses and neat ponytails. People feed him and Gojo with some half-baked stories like they thought these kids ran away from their parents or they were killed by the wildlife. But Geto can't unsee certain things anymore.

There's something going on here and people who were praising him for his good work might be a part of it — without a carefully put blindfold even the sky hurts his eyes. And he can't shrug off the feeling of loneliness that comes with it.

He looks at Gojo as they're driving from another rundown house to the other and he's thankful to him but at the same time he knows that both of them are cursed.

"Then I closed my eyes, and saw the Crimson King moving through the forest," Gojo says — his eyes are as clear as ever but his smile is almost insane. "I was there, Suguru. I saw the shrine of the Crimson King."

[merakiui]

Mera, I'm going to need to hear (a lot) more about your reverse harem otome game thoughts. So... give us some imagines about your favorite characters there!

Oooo there are so many thoughts I have regarding it!!! Allow me to share them below. :D

To start, I imagine it’s a little awkward for you because in your world they’re just characters in a game, so for a while you have to follow the plot and avoid saying anything that may raise eyebrows or evoke suspicion (i.e. you have to live through the game’s events as they happen so you can avoid ruining any of the canon events that must take place in order for appropriate character development and whatnot). But also it’s fun to imagine a reader who is awkwardly trying to avoid raising the romance meters and just wants to enjoy school life with Grim. Alas, that will never be the case, not in this otome! >_<

For a reader who has arrived to twst with the burden of an arranged marriage waiting at home, it may be a little stressful to suddenly find yourself in the middle of a reverse harem romance. Maybe you don’t put forth much effort because you’re more interested in exploring the school and the island itself, but in classic otome logic you keep ending up in all kinds of situations with them. Maybe you don’t want to get too attached to anyone because you’re not sure what will happen once you’re sent home, if such a thing is even possible. It’s not like you can just bring him back to your world to get your parents off your back. But then friendship is a dangerous line to tread because it won’t lead to fluffy and sugary-sweet outcomes. You have to stay within the romance parameters. Too low and he’ll snap. Too high and he’ll snap. So to remain in the middle, you do your best to navigate interactions with ease. You don’t even try to impress, and yet he’s charmed by you.

It's also fun to imagine that the romance starts innocent and sweet at first, but then one of the characters says something about how he'd keep you locked up if he could and then you realize, "Oh, so it's a romance like this..." ^^;;;;;;

Riddle is difficult to romance. Pre-Overblot, that is. Every minor infraction, every instance he catches you with your uniform worn askew, and every moment he sees you associating with the troublemaker that is Ace puts your score in the negatives. Riddle’s more prone to snapping at you when his score is so dreadfully low, vicious and cold as he lays down the Heartslabyul law. You’re collared on many occasions. After his Overblot, he’s softer (especially on you) and it’s very easy to curry favor with him. The smallest things have his romance bar rising, such as when you compliment him or remind him that he’s doing well. You think Riddle struggles with romance because his meter rises and falls often, most likely due to his own uncertainty with this subject. He’s not someone you’d classify as an inherently dangerous love interest. Although he does get immensely controlling and obsessive if the score surpasses its peak.

Trey is a difficult character to read. His meter almost never goes up. At least, you never see it go up with your own eyes. It’s usually after the interaction. You meet again and the bar may have gone up a few points since your last meeting. You suspect Trey loves in secret, coveting from afar. The score rises considerably when you bake with him or when you try his sweets. It’s not wise to fall into this habit because trusting Trey is not a good idea. Keep eating his cooking and you might just find yourself waking up in his room, with Trey sitting nearby and explaining that you “fainted.” There’s more behind that placating smile he shows everyone… He’s prone to gaslighting you terribly if his score peaks, and it’s done out of some twisted form of love. After all, you can trust and rely on someone friendly and reliable like Trey!

Cater’s meter seems broken most days. Sometimes it never budges an inch, remaining at zero. But there are moments where it spikes high, so high it felt like a slap the first time you saw it happen. You never know what the catalyst is for this strange score-spiking. Is Cater truly interested in you, or is he just using the new magic-less student from another world to gain Magicam clout? But then his score always rises when he’s taking photos of you. Maybe there’s more to him than you’ll ever know. Cater is so mysterious. He acts like a bestie, but that unpredictable score of his says otherwise. It’s hard to say whether he’s dangerous or not, but if his score strays too high he may become just a little unstable. :)

Deuce’s meter fills fast. He can’t help falling for you. You’re more than a friend or a best friend. That much is obvious when his bar remains nearly filled the longer you spend hanging out with him. It’s easy for Deuce to love you because he’s been with you since the very beginning, and the two of you attend class together. For this reason, he’s very overprotective of you, occasionally reverting back to his delinquent ways if some guys give you trouble. He tries to avoid this, but if his score is beyond the healthy amount then it happens more often.

Ace is another character who is always in close proximity with you. Like Deuce, he grows closer with you throughout the happenings in the main story. And even outside of that, he continues to attend class and hang out with you. You see a lot of Ace, not only because he's a classmate but also a friend. Ace's romance bar doesn't fluctuate often, and in the beginning stages of your friendship it remains relatively low. But by Scarabia's book, when he and Deuce travel all the way back after getting your SOS text, his bar's score has increased. It seems over the winter break Ace managed to sort out his feelings, and from there he is always bickering with Deuce over little things regarding you.

Leona's bar never budges, mostly because he rarely gets caught up in romantic moments with you. But there have been a few rare happenings. You can never tell what goes through the lion prince's head. Sometimes you impress him, but then he says it's only because no herbivore can possibly be as gullible as you. Yet, oddly enough, there's fondness hidden behind the layers in his words. Once he pat you on the head, muttering some sort of compliment, and then he paused, lifted his hand, and looked at it so strangely. You tease him for it and he scoffs and tells you you're lucky his claws weren't out. Unlikely story, Leona. :) and as he walks away, you spot the meter filling ever so slightly.

Ruggie can't take anything you say or do at face value because he's certain you have some ulterior motive. So when you offer part of your lunch to him or offer to help him with running errands for Leona, he tries to turn you down. Just what is with you and being so good? He doesn't trust that. There must be some other reason you keep offering... But he finds that he doesn't hate your company and it's actually quite enjoyable to have someone to talk to when he's busy with errands. That, and you somehow keep up with his pace. Before he realizes, he's falling. Fast. And it's this sudden, whirlwind attachment that leaves you with a starstruck Ruggie, whose affection meter rises quickly.

Jack is difficult to romance in the beginning. Unlike some of the other characters who warm up to you rather quickly, Jack keeps his distance. Very much a classic lone wolf type. But once he gets to know you better and the two of you reach a level in which you can consider one another friends, he starts to fall for you. Jack is innocent in his affections. He looks out for you and is the first to defend you when anyone gives you trouble. He's teased for acting like a loyal puppy in love, which flusters him greatly, but Jack really does want to protect you and help you out. His romance meter increases in very small increments, but it's clear that he has quite the soft spot for you. He's one of the few characters with a mostly fluffy route.

Azul keeps his heart guarded, so naturally it’ll be a challenge to raise his romance meter. According to canon, he’s interested in you for two main reasons: you’re not from this world and he wants to use Ramshackle as a branch café. Throughout the happenings of book three, where you scheme against him to save your friends (Ace and Deuce’s bars rise because of your efforts) and the rest of the students from eternal servitude, Azul starts to harbor an interest. By the end of the book, when you have a heartfelt one-on-one chat with him in the Atlantica museum, he’s smitten. From then on, his bar is prone to rising and crashing just as fast. Being apart from you seems to have effects on the score, and he has a nasty jealousy streak.

Jade is another character who is difficult to read even with the romance meter. For the time that you know him, it never goes up or down, remaining somewhere between zero and five at most. He is very difficult to romance, namely because he seems to foil every cliché that comes your way. Forgot an umbrella? That's fine; he'll just cast a spell to protect you and him from the rain. Not enough money for lunch? That's unfortunate (for you). If you're truly desperate, you can make a deal with Azul. Bumped into him in the hall? Unlikely. He side-steps you just before you can collide, which leaves you falling face-first on the tile. You were ready to cross him out on your list solely because he feels like an impossible route, but one day you mention something about one of his interests and Jade perks up, his meter filling considerably. Like most of the cast, he wants you all to himself. But then he's also willing to make an exception and share you with Floyd.

Floyd's score starts at the very middle. Even when you meet him and he calls you Shrimpy for the first time, the meter has already filled. It's easy for Floyd to get attached, but it's dangerous because regardless of how high or low the meter is he's still quite obsessed with you. He shows up whenever he wants, sometimes at Ramshackle just to lounge around. His behavior is always sporadic; you get used to his unpredictability. When Floyd's in a bad mood, his score tends to diminish. It's not usually your fault; maybe Floyd saw you with some other students and got jealous. There are a variety of explanations, really. Most days, his meter is overfilled and so as a result he's more prone to picking fights to protect you or monopolizing your time by scaring others off. Like a leech, he clings to you.

Kalim feels like a love at first sight type! He thinks you're so darling the moment he meets you, and he's already wanting to spoil you. Despite his outgoing nature, his bar doesn't seem to rise much. Maybe it's just because he's so overly friendly with everyone that he's yet to see you in that way. But after more than enough romance moments between the both of you, he's wholeheartedly in love. He's the most obvious with his feelings and intentions, but then with the meters it becomes clear to you how everyone feels about you and where they currently stand on a scale. orz but Kalim is different in that he has no shame or embarrassment in approaching you outright to shower you in expensive gifts. He means well, but he doesn't realize just how much he's spoiling you. Although it is nice to be doted on to such an expensive degree.

Jamil is another character whose feelings are tough to read from the romance meter alone. It hardly rises; in fact, you think his score may be in the negatives. For the longest time you think he dislikes you solely because Kalim likes you and that makes his job harder when he has to prepare feast after feast for you. But after you tell Jamil to relax or offer your help or even explain that you don't need an entire feast, he starts to slowly, very slowly, warm up to you. You make the mistake of telling him he'll always be important to someone and that he should just do his best regardless of what others say—that he shouldn't have to diminish his capabilities or qualities just to let someone else overshadow him—and that's the arrow through his heart. Maybe you aren't as bad as he once thought...

Vil is a challenge. He has standards, and when you first meet him he compares you to an unwashed spud. It's clear that if you ever want to pursue a route with Vil you'll have to do something to catch his eye or earn his approval. The two of you likely grow somewhat close during the VDC and even more so during the happenings of book six. Outside of those main story events, you occasionally cross paths with Vil and sometimes you'll talk briefly. These interactions stick with Vil even after you've parted ways, and without even realizing it you occupy his thoughts. He's never had anything like this happen (at least, not when it comes to romantic interests), and if you're able to capture his attention so suddenly like this it must mean something. What that something is, whether love or otherwise, he will find out. And his romance meter will gradually rise as he does so. :)

Rook is a strange case. Everything he says sounds like it comes from an otome, but this sort of romantic flair is normal for the eccentric Rook Hunt. Though it's difficult to understand him and his real feelings, his romance meter is surprisingly honest and, unsurprisingly, just as shameless. It usually spikes when he's observing you from afar or if he's interacting with you in class. Rook is just so fascinated with you. You truly are curious, capturing so many hearts and seeming so unfazed. Just how do you do it? It's quite beautiful! He's already quite obsessive; if anything, the rise in his romance meter just makes him worse.

Epel thinks you're a godsend. You're the first person who didn't call him cute at first meeting! This automatically earns you points, and since he's also a first year like Ace and Deuce you'll likely hang out with him more often. The same applies to the other first years. Epel's interest in you stems from admiration. He genuinely thinks you're a really cool person, and the more time he spends with you, getting to know you and such, the more he falls. He's hoping to win your heart! Although with so many others also vying for your attention, it's a challenge he's determined to undertake.

Idia is difficult to romance only because he never leaves his room, so despite the lack of interaction he's been watching you from the very beginning. His romance meter is stubborn because he can't possibly fathom liking someone who isn't 2D, and yet here he is, salivating over you like you're a rare item in a game. ^^;;; Idia builds up his ideal version of you in his head, which is the only reason that meter rises at all. Of course he absolutely fails talking to you in person, for he's much too shy and anxious to approach you. You actually steal his heart when you smile at him while he talks to you through the text-to-speech program on his tablet. And then you say, "We can start small. Don't push yourself to do something you're not comfortable with." And omg he's going crazy. Who allowed you to say something so cool and so nice and so sweet?! >_< he's overheating because he's so shocked... orz

Malleus is a character who feels like the otome's endgame. He's charmed shortly after your first meeting. It's as if he was destined to fall for you with how quickly his romance meter fills. Despite his sweet and seemingly innocent affections, most of which are friendly because romance is very new to him, your romance moments with him only bring the two of you closer together. You spend a long time in the friend zone because Malleus mistakes every little gesture as something platonic or friendly. He's a little romantically dense at times, so you can never tell if his meter is filling because he likes you as a friend or something more than that. Don't be fooled, though. As sweet as he seems, Malleus is overwhelmed with the instinct to keep you close and forever his. Call it a dragon's nature to hoard or his own fear of being lonely again, but he can't let you go.

Lilia's romance bar remains relatively low because he's more like a spontaneous event. He pops up so randomly, so every encounter with him really does feel like fate. Lilia likely knows of you because you're the human Malleus has been spending time with, and he's so very fond of you. You'll just never know this because it's impossible to know what he thinks of you when he's so mysterious and vague in how he speaks sometimes. But you do have prior knowledge about Lilia (and all of the other characters from playing twst in your world) and so it's not so surprising to suddenly find yourself in an encounter with him. His romance meter usually rises when he sees or hears of how kind you've been to Malleus, Silver, and Sebek. You're just the sweetest. He adores you (too much).

Silver is the princely type! Your meeting is a typical otome cliché: he's sleeping and wakes up to you standing over him, and the sun shines down on you at just the right angle, which makes you look breathlessly angelic. And...he falls right back asleep, so you end up having to drag him to class so he won't be late. Perhaps that last part isn't very romantic, but Silver is quite touched by your kindness and also apologetic for causing you such trouble. To make it up to you, he wants to do a favor for you, only you insist he doesn't have to. He ends up sticking near you for the entire day until you finally give him something to do so he can repay your kindness. orz and afterwards, his romance meter has risen. <3

Sebek is another difficult route, mainly because of his devotion to Malleus and Lilia. He's very focused on becoming the best possible royal guard, and so it seems like he wants nothing to do with you. He makes it quite clear with how huffy he gets, always calling you "human" and not by your actual name. His romance meter never moves an inch up. If anything, it remains abysmally low. However, the more time you spend with Sebek, constantly correcting him with "It's (Name), not human!" and insisting you and Malleus are only friends when he accuses you of spending so much time with Malleus (which really only happens by chance, mostly), he begins to see new sides of you. Without realizing it, adoration blossoms amidst the many arguments he has with you.

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ Animal Crossing Agere ໒ ˚⁎

Hiii, could you make Little! Sherb (for Animal Crossing) hcs? :33

•Sherb’s lazy and carefree demeanor makes age regression feel like a natural extension of his personality. He doesn’t worry about responsibilities and instead focuses on enjoying the moment, whether that means playing, napping, or having snacks

•"I caught a bug today, but he looked sleepy, so I let him go nap again.."

•Sherb adores soft, cozy items like plushies and blankets. He has a favorite stuffed animal ( a small goat plush named "Billy" ) that he carries around during his regression time. His Cute Bed is his go-to nest for naps with his plushies

•Sherb's regressed mindset often leads him to daydream fantastical stories about superheroes or magical creatures, inspired by his love for comics and his favorite song, Hypno K.K.

•Hobbies in Little Space :

•Sherb loves to sit at his cute DIY table and doodle with crayons, creating pictures of his friends in the village or simple drawings of flowers, bugs, and fish. He sometimes tapes these up on his walls like a proud little artist

•Sherb would uses his cute tea table for pretend tea parties with his plushies and sometimes invites other villagers (especially peppy or sisterly types) to join in. He’ll pour "bug juice" (imaginary tea) and serve his favorite snacks, like cookies and fruit

•Sherb enjoys catching bugs or fishing but does so more for the fun of watching the critters move rather than collecting them. He’ll giggle if a butterfly lands near him or pretend he’s a brave adventurer discovering a "new species"

•Normal villagers (like Fauna or Molly) are often his primary caregivers, gently guiding him and offering soft-spoken reassurances when he's in little space. They might bake him treats or read him stories

•Sisterly villagers (like Deirdre) take on a protective, big sibling role, ensuring Sherb feels safe and happy, while also indulging in his playful games

•Sherb gets along best with other lazy villagers (like Zucker or Bob) during age regression, bonding over shared interests like snacks and cartoons. Peppy villagers (like Audie or Rosie) are also great playmates, as they love his imagination and energy

•Sherb’s regressed behavior might confuse snooty or jock villagers, but they’re often charmed by his innocent, carefree joy. Jocks like Dom might even try to teach Sherb games or exercises, which Sherb will approach like a clumsy toddler trying to follow along

•Dreamy Room : Sherb’s house already has a soft and whimsical vibe, which perfectly suits his regressed self. He might add more "little" touches, like colorful posters, fairy lights, or handmade paper crafts. His Hypno K.K. player is always on, providing a soothing soundtrack

•Sherb treasures anything pastel-colored or with a playful design. His Cute Sofa is his favorite spot for cuddling up with a blanket, and he loves fiddling with the old-fashioned alarm clock on his Cute Tea Table

•Nap Enthusiast : Age Regression for Sherb always includes naps. He’ll make a blanket fort or tuck himself into his Cute Bed and call it his "cloud castle"

•"Do you think clouds like snacks too? Maybe that’s why they look so fluffy"

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !

[devilfic]

thinking about your first christmas as a family after bruce adopts dick grayson.

bruce is nervous because every christmas since becoming batman has been piss poor. there’s been no big dinners because it’s just been himself and alfred for so long. gifts were exchanged not on christmas morning but left on beds and desks and in elevator shafts because the holidays were such a strange time for the two of them without thomas and martha around. sometimes it was easier to give each other the space. alfred always left the fireplace on for when bruce would get home from holiday patrol, perhaps with a cup of hot cocoa just the way he liked it left on the hearth, always suspiciously steaming as if alfred had stayed up until bruce got back to leave it there.

then you come along and there’s dinner again, and sometimes bruce is even home some of the day to celebrate with you. the tree comes out of storage and you add a novelty ornament to it every year because the others are all for show and it just doesn’t make the tower feel like home. bruce bakes with you, stealing fudge from your mixing bowl. you almost (almost!) get to send him off with tinsel around his cowl ears and jingle bells on his belt. warmth is returning to gotham in december with you around.

but then dick comes along and everything is different! bruce doesn’t really realize it until he takes dick out shopping for a winter coat and an employee gives dick a candy cane on the way out, but it’s going to be christmas soon and he hasn’t planned anything. he’s been fine with the way things are for so long that he hadn’t realized that dick is still young, that christmas is still something to look forward to, that he’s a father now.

you walk in one day and bruce is stringing lights around the fireplace with dick running around the tree, wrapping it in ribbon and tinsel. bruce hoists dick up to put the star on the tree and they both nearly knock the whole thing over. dick hangs christmas wreaths in the batcave, super glues a bright red rudolph nose on the hood of the batmobile, builds gingerbread houses with little gingerbread bruce and you holding hands while gingerbread dick beats a gingerbread bad guy with a peppermint carved into a batarang. it sits very proudly in the kitchen. you’ve never seen bruce so flustered before. alfred has never seen the tower so badly decorated. he loves it.

on patrol, you lament about how cold dick must be in his robin costume and force him into leg warmers and a sweater, even as he whines about how it’s never bothered him before. bruce watches as you tug a hat over dick’s hair, tucking the little black strands underneath and placing your warm hands to dick’s flushed cheeks. you warn them both that if they don’t stay warm, you’ll be restricting their vigilante privileges. the boys just share a look because they know you really mean it.

you worry so much when they’re out together. try as you might to pretend to be asleep once bruce settles in beside you, you always sneak out of bed to check on dick before returning to your room. bruce pretends he’s too exhausted to notice and just pulls you closer.

dick gets you two out of the tower, too! bruce takes you both ice skating in gotham square, stumbling around on his skates like a 6′1, beefy newborn dear as you and dick skate circles around him and laugh (you really don’t mean to embarrass him so bad that he skates over to a bench and pouts for ten minutes, but you and dick convince him to skate between the two of you until he can stand on his own).

the snow in gotham is dirty, but that doesn’t stop dick from initiating snowball fights with you when you go out past the city lines. bruce takes the two of you to an old family friend’s estate and catches you two from the window pelting each other with handfuls of snow like your lives depended on it, and you bet your asses he’s coming for blood when he meets you both out there. none of you are dressed for getting covered in snow and alfred gives a very stern talking to you three by the front door when you get home.

and when christmas morning comes, bruce feels his heart clench as dick throws himself on top of you and bruce’s sleeping bodies in bed, begging you both to get up so he can open presents already. alfred stands by the bedroom door with this fond look on his face, mumbling something about how “familiar” this all was.

dick loves every single gift you guys give him. he runs off to his room to play with his new toys and video games the minute you let him. by the end of dinner, dick is passed out on the couch with a full stomach, so bruce laughs and takes a few pictures to tease him before scooping him up to take him to bed. it isn’t until dick is tucked under his sheets that it really hits him: he loves this kid. he’s got a family now. he’s going to do everything in his power to protect it. he gets misty-eyed at the thought that it’s his turn now, something that seemed so far out of his mind ten years ago.

he’s still kneeling by dick’s bedside when you come in and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his hair, “dick left us a gift. wanna come see?”

it’s a little foreign to him when bruce first sees it. he’d seen it maybe a few times at christmas parties at boarding school, almost always managing to evade getting dragged underneath it save for the few times he’d been given a sloppy, eggnog-spiked kiss by a classmate.

you stand under the mistletoe hanging from the lowest arch in the house (probably the only one dick could reasonably reach), giggling conspiratorially.

“was this your idea?” he accuses, slinking closer to the plant but not quite giving in just yet.

“dick wanted me to tell him about some christmas traditions and picked this one out. he’s never had a traditional christmas before, ya know?”

“and did he already get his kiss?”

“a big, embarrassing one right on the forehead from me AND alfred. he’s had his fill of this tradition, I think.”

bruce can’t help but laugh. he’s so full of warm food and joy. he’s happy dick’s happy. he’s happy you’re happy. he’s so happy. “can’t say the same for myself.” he cups his hands on either side of your throat and grins, breath scented from the candy cane he’d been sucking on after dinner. he kisses you and the mint passes to your tongue, a cool contrast to the feverishness of his mouth. he hadn’t felt this warm in years.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 6/8

Yeah, it keeps getting worse and worse 🙃

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

Living with Ruben was not like you imagined it to be. The guestroom where you stayed was practically a master bedroom. But having previously slept on a pull-out couch when sharing apartments with Ester, you were undoubtedly grateful. However, Ruben was never home. His match and training schedule was busier than yours. Sometimes days would pass where you were completely left alone in his apartment. Your heart sank once you realized that when Ruben wasn't at home or training he was probably spending time with his girlfriend. He did say that whatever the two of you had was a mistake. But there would be nights when Ruben would come home late from game, slip into your bed and wrap his arms around you until the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Ruben also had rules for your stay. Rules that any girl who wasn't as desperate as you, might have seen as red flags. Most of the rules were understandable, like don't leave the apartment around the same time as he did, and don't post pictures of you in the apartment or anywhere near it. However, there was one rule you just couldn't wrap your head around and this rule involved the locked door down the hall from your bedroom. You had mistaken it for an additional bathroom, but when Ruben caught you yanking the doorhandle he got angry and snapped at you to never go near the door again. But like you said, you were desperate for a place to stay, ignoring the internal warnings. Not even your parents knew about what went down between you and Ester. They would never know. All you wanted to do was fulfill your dreams of playing football, staying with Ruben reassured that.

"Morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?"

You woke up to the memories of last night. The smell of freshly baked bread brought you out of bed and into the kitchen. Ruben stood behind the counter, whisking something in a bowl. He was bare chested, wearing sweatpants only. Grey sweatpants, revealing more than was appropriate.

"Morning." You mumbled and climbed to sit on the stool next to the counter. To your suprise Ruben stopped what he was doing, leand forward and kissed you.

"You look grumpy, why?" He asked.

You shrugged. "Just tired, I guess."

Ruben kept you up all night. The two of you had done more than cuddle last night. You had sex, all of it initiated by Ruben who came into your room after another late return from an away game. The sex was good but it made you wonder how serious the relationship between Ruben and his girlfriend was. And who were you to Ruben, his mistress?

"Care for some breakfast? I got bread freash from the oven. I'm also making some protein pancakes."

"Sure Ruben, thanks."

The day after an away game was usually Ruben's day off. He had time to stay and make breakfast, serving you a plate of the tastiest pancakes you've ever had.

"They're amazing." You said, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

"Nice to see them bring back that smile I love on you." He stretched out to caress your cheek, wiping some crumbs off the corner of your mouth. "Mist a spot." He brought back his thumb from your face and into his mouth. Your heart flared watching him suck the tip off it, his brown eyes never leaving yours as he did.

You cleared your throat. "Ruben, about last night."

He smirked, the thought amusing to him.

"I thought you said..."

"I know what I said Y/N." He nodded. "It won't happen again. I was just happy about the win. It was an important game for the team."

You had watched it on TV. The win had granted Manchester City a slot into the round of sixteen teams fighting for the Champions League.

"I get that, but you told me that you have a girlfriend. Sleeping with me makes you a cheater Ruben. "

He snorted. "I don't think so. Cheaters never win and I won last night, both on and off the pitch."

You were stunned for words. With time you had gotten to know Ruben a bit better and like anyone he had different sides to him, sides you weren't all too keen on exploring. You thought it might jeopardize your relationships if you questioned his ethics too much. Or worse, Ruben might stop helping you improve your football.

"Which time are you leaving for training?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Two, I'll be there all afternoon."

"Alright, I'll give you a ride."

"Really?"

You watched him get up and wipe his hands on a cloth.

"You're surprised?"

"Well, won't someone see us?"

He smiled. "My car windows are tinted, Y/N. Besides, I'll be dropping you off a block away from the Ethiad."

Your heart sank. "Oh, of course."

Training went well that afternoon. Perhaps too well. You had feard facing Ester again  after her lame threats to tell on you and Ruben to the club. However, Ruben insisted that you shouldn't worry about her, and you hadn't. But the fact that Ester completely alienated you during trainings, caused you slight paranoia.

"Listen up!" Coach said, gathering the players as he blew his whistle. "I have a few call ups for the first team's game this weekend, so listen carefully. Fowler..."

"Yes!" A girl hissed.

Coach continued reading from his list "James..."

"Yes!" Another girl cheered.

"....Dawson, Espinosa, Philips, Adilović..." It must be a friendly, you thought. The majority of girls were getting called up. "...Richards and Hofman."

The majority of girls, except for you.

"But coach?" You protested. The session was over. You trailed after your him as he walked off the pitch.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but my hands are tied." He said.

What exactly was that suppose to mean?

"But coach I'm not sick anymore." You thought back to your little spew fest during a forgettable training session with the first team. "It was one time. I'm better now, I swear."

Coach seized to walk, turning to you. He looked conflicted. "Look. I'm very sorry Y/N, but like I said, my hands are tied. Perhaps the first team didn't find you performance that impressing this month?"

He left you with those words.

Impossible, you thought. You played excellent this month. You even managed to gain a few pounds with the diet Ruben put you on. You were strong enough to pass any defender, let alone the defenders in the first team. It was all impossible.

"Can you believe it, they picked Ester but not me." You told Ruben about your day. You were a bit suprised to still find him at the apartment. After all, it was his day off. Was his girlfriend sick or something?

"I wouldn't dwell too much about that Y/N. Like you said, it's probably just a friendly game against another Super League team."

"Yes, but I could use the experience." You sighed, plotting down beside Ruben on the coach. His arms stretched across your shoulders, railing you in. "You'll get it in time." He said, kissing the top of your head. "Just be patient."

It was nice, being held by him. The TV was showing a documentary about rhinoceros' and you easily got swept away by it, resting comfortably against Ruben's chest. However, a thought came to mind as your eyes darted around his apartment. "Ruben, I was just wondering," You said, voice a little hesitant. "Why aren't there any personal items in your apartment. No photos, no nothing?" It was strange really.

Ruben's expression changed, his eyes darting around the room as if he was searching for something. "Oh, that," he said, his voice evasive. "I just like to keep things simple. I don't really have any family or friends to speak of."

Oh."

You felt a wave of unease wash over you. Something about Ruben's answer didn't sit right. "What do you mean you don't have any family or friends?" You pressed on, because you had met one of them and his name was Bernardo. You raised your head from his chest, meeting Ruben's eyes, and for a moment, You saw something in them that made your heart race. It was a look of pure terror, as if he was trapped in a nightmare and couldn't escape.

"I, uh, I just don't like to talk about it," he stammered, his eyes darting away. "Can we just forget about it and enjoy this movie or whatever. Why are you asking me so many questions anyway?"

A chill ran down her spine. You had never seen Ruben like this before, and you didn't like it one bit. But you also didn't want to push him too hard, so you nodded and went back to watching the documentary with him, ending the night this way.