#if you open bust again I'll be back

[leggo-my-eggo-sum]

Many thanks to @bonepriests for doing a bust of Breekon!

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Multi-talented Queen"

How I imagine the lads men react to hearing you sing for the first time.

Zayne

MC: Why are you staring at me?

Zayne: Just trying to figure out when you were going to tell me you could sing

MC: Okay prophet did you figure it out yet?

Zayne: Yes I have

MC: and what's the answer?

Zayne: You never were this is the only point in time when I was going to find out

MC: Im shy about my singing voice why are you mad?

Zayne: Im not upset ... I would just like to hear it more often

MC: Alright I'll sing you to sleep or something

Zayne: I accept your terms

MC: I was kidding hold on

Zayne: Too late I've already agreed to the terms and conditions

MC: What were the terms and conditions?!?!

Rafayel

MC: *Singing as she steps out of the shower*

Rafayel: *Busts open the bathroom door*

MC: WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

Rafayel: Why'd you stop singing?

MC: Because you busted in here like a fed and im butterball naked

Rafayel: Yea ..... nice ... very nice

MC: Focus fishie

Rafayel: Why didn't you tell me you could sing?

MC: you never asked

Rafayel: Do it again

MC: Do I bust in on you while you're naked and demand for you to sing?

Rafayel: I mean id be fine with that

MC: Get out

Rafayel: Sing first

MC: No

Rafayel: Come on please?

MC: You sing

Rafayel: I can't

MC: is your voice that bad?

Rafayel: No I have the vocals of a siren it will kill you

MC: *laughs*

Rafayel: ...

MC: ...

MC: Wait you're serious?

Xavier

Xavier: Are there any other secrets you're hiding?

MC: Are you still on this?

Xavier: You hid it from me

MC: I didn't hide anything I just didn't sing around you

Xavier: You hid it

MC: I get nervous singing in front of people and you still give me butterflies by just looking at me

Xavier: If I close my eyes will that help?

MC: That's not how it works Xavier

Xavier: What if I stand on the balcony with my back to you?

MC: Why do you want me to sing so bad?

Xavier: ....It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard

MC: S-STOP !

Sylus

Sylus: *Holds up his phone and plays a recording* You'd give Princess Fiona a run for her money

MC: MEPHISTO CAN RECORD???

Sylus: How many times do I have to remind you that he is a mechanical crow?

MC: He's a little shit that's what he is....

Sylus: What exactly was your plan?

MC: I was trying to make him explode the same way Fiona did

Sylus: and what came of that?

MC: Leave me alone Sylus

Sylus: How do you have so much animosity towards a crow?

MC: Why does your crow have so much static with me?

Sylus: You should sing more often

MC: No

Sylus: What if I say please?

MC: Still no

Sylus: Shall I beg?

MC: Still no ... well actually ... wait n-no ... I get nervous there's nothing you can say that will change my mind

Sylus: I'll move Mephisto into one of the twins rooms

MC: Send me a list of songs you wanna hear

[auroralwriting]

his little finger

spencer reid x fem!hothead!reader

part two!!! | part one

spencer has you wrapped around his finger; you'd do anything he said without question. your team can't quite understand it. little do they know you and spencer have an unsaid.. thing.

warnings: reader has a hot temper, reader gets injured, innuendos for smut (they did it) | words: 1k again im sorry but i have plans for spence!!

It finally happened. The day everyone had been dreading. Finally, your hot temper got you injured during a case.

You caught a guy, he fit your profile exactly. You knew deep down it was him. He didn't react well to confident women, so Hotch sent you in to interrogate him. You would break him down, reduce him to mere atoms.

"Come on, Charlie," You had your hands on the table, leaning over to him. "We know you killed those women. We have all the evidence right here. Save yourself some jail time and just admit, yeah?"

Charlie kept his eyes trained to the floor, "I didn't kill those women." He stated, voice quiet.

You could see the sweat on his face, the way his foot tapped. "You can't even look at me!" You laughed, "Of course you didn't kill those women. You can't even look at one without almost pissing your pants." You gave Charlie a small tsk, "But I guess that just goes to show you aren't so tough, huh? You couldn't control a situation, not if you wanted to, not even if you tried. You--"

Stars. You saw stars and heard a loud clang. It took you a moment to realize you were on the floor. You felt absolutely nothing for a second, then a searing hot pain in your head. Finally, you looked up to see Charlie had a thick, sharp rock in his hand. He had struck you. The table and chair were on opposite sides of the room, and there was blood on the rock. Your blood. You pushed yourself up to the wall, unable to stand up or speak.

"Yeah? I can't control a situation?" Charlie taunted, "Guess you got your fucking profile wrong, you little bitch!"

The door was busted open, Hotch and Derek running in. Derek got the guy under his control as Rossi and Spencer ran in.

"Hey, hey," Hotch kneeled beside you. "Come on, let's stand." You felt his arms under you, lifting you up.

Spencer was quick to take one side of you, helping you out of the room. "Hey, sweetheat, it's alright," You heard Spencer say. "You're okay now. Come on, say something!"

The genius refused to leave your side, even as the paramedics came into the room. One went to touch your head, but you flinched away harshly, grabbing his arm. "Don't you dare touch me," You hissed. It was the first thing you'd said.

Your team watch in shock, surprised you refused help. Spencer was quick to jump in, recognizing you were in flight or fight mode. "Honey, he's just trying to help you," Spencer softly explained. "He's gonna help your head,"

"It won't hurt?" Your voice turned soft, nearly a whine due to the pain.

Spencer shook his head, "It won't hurt. I'll hold your hand the whole time, okay?" After a slight hesitation, you nodded. Spencer laced his fingers with your own, letting you lean on him for support as he rambled about random statistics to help occupy your mind.

Hotch instructed that Spencer was to take you back to the hotel for the rest of the night to rest. He drove you there, allowing you to pick the music and temperature for the car. The whole time, you held his hand.

Once you got back to your room, he helped you in. He was kind enough to help you take off your jacket and slip off your shoes. After he was done, he turned around, ready to leave.

"No," You called, pulling him back with your hand that you had in his. "I want you to stay."

Spencer was quick to turn back around, "Of course, yeah, I'll stay." He slipped off his own shoes and sat next to you on your bed.

"I shouldn't have been so harsh," You muttered. "I got myself hurt."

"Hey, no," Spencer shook his head. "That guy would've hurt someone no matter what. He was ready. You didn't get yourself hurt, okay? It was all his fault. You were doing your job, one you're damn good at."

You felt your eyes water. "I'm too mean, too quick to anger." You muttered as Spencer took his hand, gently pulling your head onto his shoulder. "I wish I wasn't."

"I don't," Spencer responded, voice soft. "I, uh, love you just the way you are."

Finally someone said it.

You didn't even respond in words, you just pulled his face to yours and pressed your lips together. Spencer took no time in reciprocating, kissing you back with a firey force. You'd both been waiting for this for so, so long.

"I love you too," You breathlessly responded as you pulled back. Spencer didn't let you have another moment as he pulled you back to his lips, chasing the gratifying feeling it gave him to finally be kissing you. "Spence, air," You gasped, pulling back.

"You can last three to five minutes without air," Spencer mumbled, pressing kisses to your lips as he spoke. "I think you'll be okay for a few more."

Even while practically making out with you, you loved that Spencer couldn't help but use his big brain to ramble off some facts. "Thought you had to go back,"

"They'll be fine without me," You giggled at Spencer's response.

After a half hour, Spencer's phone began to buzz. It was Derek. Spencer, half undressed, rolled over to look at his phone. "Who is it?" You asked.

"Morgan," Spencer said. He hit the decline button, leaning back over to you when it buzzed again. He let out a frustrated groan and picked up the phone. "What, Morgan? I'm busy."

You could hear Derek from how close you were to Spencer. "Busy? Doing what?" He paused, "Oh, doing who- Wait a minute--"

Quickly, Spencer hung up the phone. "I think he got the point." Spencer smiled as he silenced his phone. He turned back to you, caressing your cheek. "Where were we?"

Back at the station, Derek's jaw was slung open. "Guys, you aren't gonna believe this." He turned back around to the team who stared at him curiously, wondering where their genius went. "They're having sex, Reid and L/n."

"No way!" Emily laughed, "Now?"

"Hotch did send them to the hotel," JJ smiled.

With a shrug, Hotch held out his hand. "Today is day four. Pay up,"

"You!" Rossi pointed his finger at Hotch. He slowly began to pull out his wallet. "You sent them back on purpose!"

"She was hurt," Hotch held back a smile. "I would do no such thing, especially on a case."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Case's over. Right after we detained the guy again, he admitted to it. You just wanted to win this." Derek slapped a crisp twenty in Hotch's hand, along with the rest of the team. "I guess I'll let Garcia know she owes you."

Hotch smiled to himself, "I'm always right."

[callme-holly]

could you maybe please do some scenarios for (y/n) comforting sodapop, Dallas, ponyboy, and Johnny if you want please. also could you please make the reader fem please and thank you

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 [𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐝𝐞.]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - im a little behind on requets but im getting there! i've got my final exam of this week tomorrow and then i'll be a lot speedier, i promise. asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of fighting, getting jumped and small injury detail

Dallas Winston -  The room is quiet as you card your fingers through Dallas’ hair, the greaser’s head resting against your thigh. His eyes are closed, and there's a nasty bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, accompanied by a few bloodied scrapes that he refuses to let you clean. There’s dried blood crusted beneath his nose, which you wipe away gently with the pad of your thumb, humming softly under your breath as he breathes out a low, soft groan.  “You alright?” Your tone is barely above a whisper as you tug at the ends of his mussy locks, pushing them back from his face. He blinks once or twice, his eyelashes fanning against his cheeks, and his expression is a little less pained than it was just minutes ago.  “Yeah,” he murmurs after a moment, “fine.” He shifts a little bit so that his head is now more firmly planted upon your lap, and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a half embrace. You reach down between the two of you and retrieve the ice pack that is sitting forgotten beside you, pressing it against his swollen cheek once more.  He makes a disgruntled noise but doesn't open his eyes again.  “Sorry 'bout this.” His voice is rough, strained from the exertion: “Y' shouldn't have to take care of me all the damn time.” The words fall heavy between the two of you as he speaks, and you smile softly, shaking your head. “It ain't too much trouble, really.” You rub small circles against his bicep, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “And besides...” your voice drops to an almost conspiratorial murmur, “I like taking care of you. It makes me feel better when I know you're not lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”  He gives you a lopsided grin at that, eyes still closed. “You've got so much faith in me, doll.”  Your smile widens, feeling something twist inside of you. You take his hand, squeezing it gently before pressing a quick kiss to his busted-up knuckles. “Whatever.” 

Sodapop Curtis -  A small sigh leaves your lips as Soda buries his face in your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, tears cascading down his cheeks as he struggles for air.  It pains you to see him like this, his usual bright smile replaced with a look of pure anguish, silent sobs racking his body. You rub slow circles against his back, mumbling soft words of reassurance into his ear as he clings to your shirt. “I don’t understand,” he gasps, his voice thick with emotion. “Why can't they just get along? They never used to be like this. A shudder runs through him, and you tighten your hold on him, rocking him a bit back and forth as he cries. “Shh, Soda, hey, you need to breathe,” you murmur soothingly, combing your fingers through his hair. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.” You press a soft kiss to the top of his head, hushing him quietly as his cries gradually abate.  “I just want them to get along.” Soda whispers brokenly, burying his face against your collarbones. “I'm tired of being made to pick sides. I don't wanna be in the middle all the time.” You hum sympathetically, shifting slightly so that you can wrap both arms around him and pull him as close as physically possible. Soda melts into your touch, relaxing fully against you. You can tell he's exhausted, both emotionally and physically.  "I hate it.” He sounds miserable. “All they do is yell at each other. Darry is way too hard on Pony, and Pony's trying his hardest, but he can only take so much–" Soda stops abruptly, his breath hitched in his throat as another sob tears from him, wracking his body. His grip tightens around your middle and your heart clenches painfully at the sight.  “I just want things to go back to normal.” You give a slow nod, closing your eyes. “I know, I know. It'll be okay.” You press another gentle kiss to his temple and run your hands slowly up and down his spine, trying to offer as much comfort as you can. He relaxes under your touch, melting further into you as he tries to take deep, steady breaths, struggling to control himself.  You tilt his chin up so that he's looking at you once more, running your thumb over his cheek. “I love you, you know” “Mm,” he hums, blinking rapidly to rid his vision of the last remnants of tears. His eyes meet yours, and even though his gaze is glassy and filled with sadness and pain, his expression is soft and tender. “Love you too.”

Ponyboy Curtis -  You're sitting in the lot, your jacket pulled tightly around you, when you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You stiffen and turn sharply, expecting to see a group of drunken socs or the odd greaser looking for trouble, only to come face to face with none other than Ponyboy Curtis. He has tears streaming down his cheeks, his hair mused as he all but throws himself at you, shoulders shaking and chest heaving. You don’t speak a word as you pull him into your arms, rubbing your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. His head comes to rest on your shoulder, one fist clutching the front of your sweater as tight as possible, the other hanging uselessly by his side. For several moments, he sits in silence, letting you hold him while he finally manages to collect himself. Then he pulls back, wiping furiously at his face. “Sorry…” You don’t miss the way he averts his gaze from you as he speaks, refusing to make eye contact. “Didn't mean to bother you; I just—”  You shake your head, interrupting him. “There’s no reason for you to apologise.” You pause, considering for a long moment before continuing. “What's up?”  He exhales shakily, then hesitantly meets your gaze again. “I—Darry yelled at me again. He got real mad this time.” His voice cracks, and you pull him close once more. You know Darry’s been harder on him as of late, expecting too much of a boy Pony’s age. You know he means well, but you also know the toll it’s been taking on the younger Curtis brother and how difficult these past few weeks have been for him.  “Sometimes I don't think Darry likes me very much.” You can hear the vulnerability in his tone, unable to miss how broken he appears. He's not crying anymore; if anything, he looks a little embarrassed and ashamed. You frown, brushing his damp bangs from his forehead. “Don't be ridiculous.” Your tone is firm, determined to keep him from ever getting caught up in that dark spiral. “He cares about you a whole lot.” “He's got a funny way of showin' it.” Pony grumbles softly, and you can't help but laugh at his bluntness, wrapping your arms tighter around him. “I wish he'd be nicer. I really don't like all the fighting we do.” “I know. But it'll get easier.” You look down at him. “If you want, I can go talk some sense into him.” That earns you a smile as Ponyboy nods, squeezing you a little tighter. “Good luck. I doubt he’ll listen.” You press a quick kiss to his forehead, smiling softly. “I’ll try my best.”

Johnny Cade -  Arms circle around your waist, gripping onto you tightly as you comb your fingers through his tangled, and still heavily greased, hair. Johnny’s head rests in your lap, eyes squeezed shut as he tries desperately to fall into some sort of relaxed state, but he just can't seem to find the will within himself to do so. You watch him silently, running a finger absently along his jawline, taking in the bruises and cuts littering his face and arms. He looks worn thin and broken; his cheeks are tear-stained and hollowed by exhaustion. His breathing remains unsteady and uneven, his skin pale, and you can't help but reach out and brush the pad of your thumb across the faint lines beneath his eyes, your brow furrowing deeply. He flinches slightly but doesn’t open his eyes, his breath hitching. “Sorry,” You whisper, going back to smoothing your hand over his hair. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”  Johnny lets out a soft sigh, leaning his forehead against your stomach. “S' okay…” He shifts a little closer to you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together. “...just glad yer here.” You bite your lower lip, tracing patterns into the back of his hand with your thumb, pressing soft kisses against his forehead as you let him snuggle closer, relishing in the simple closeness of it all. It eases your nerves knowing he's safe with you and calms the storm raging inside of you. Your mind wanders back to earlier, the images of him lying, half-dead, in that field flashing unbidden through your mind.   It takes a lot to make Johnny Cade cry, but the second you had knelt down beside him and pulled him into your arms while the gang huddled about you, his composure had completely crumbled. Sobs had wracked his body, shaking his entire frame, and you could do nothing but hold him until he had finally calmed down. And now, here he was, curled up into your embrace, clinging to you like a lifeline. Every little noise made him jump, every sudden movement made his muscles tense, and your heart ached for him. You wanted so badly to make everything better, but there was nothing you could do. All you could do was stay there, holding him as he cried, wishing that there was something you could do besides sit by and whisper softly to him. But, you know, right now, just you being there is enough for him.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[ariestrxsh]

could you write a little blurb/drabble (idk the difference) about walking in on matt/chris jerking off to your guys’ sex tape and then degrading and humiliating tf outta him while he continues getting off?🫶💗

humiliating Matt while he gets off to your sextape...

The apartment was eerily quiet when you got home. You certainly hadn't expected to walk in on your boyfriend jerking off to a homemade video that the two of you had recorded a few weeks earlier.

However, when you walked into your bedroom and found him sprawled out on the bed the two of you shared with his cock in one hand and his phone in the other while he got off to you, you were extremely flattered.

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo. What do you think you're doing?" You condescendingly asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms sternly. "Don't look," he whimpered, continuing to stroke himself in front of you.

"Oh, I'll look if I want to," you smugly responded. "You didn't answer my question. What do you think you're doing? Couldn't wait for me to get home?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," Matt whined, his hand pumping back and forth over his shaft as your eyes locked onto his swollen head that looked like it was about to bust any second.

"What do you mean, you didn't mean to? You trying to tell me that you accidentally opened up our sex tape, that you accidentally pushed play, and that you accidentally stuck your hand down your pants? Do you think I'm stupid, Matthew?" You asked in a patronizing tone.

"N-no, it's not that," Matt hissed through his teeth, his breathing becoming irregular. "What is it then, Matthew? You just can't control yourself?" You sweetly asked, taking a couple of steps closer to him. He shook his head no at you while he looked at you in desperation.

"You have no shame, huh? You're not even gonna stop?" You wondered, reaching out and gently brushing the back of your hand against his flushed cheek.

Your eyes were still fixed on his pretty dick and the way clear liquid gathered at his slit and started leaking down the side of his mushroom-shaped tip. He shook his head no again as he gently caressed his sensitive glans with his thumb, coaxing more shiny fluid to leak out of it.

"Awh, look at how cute your cock looks," you cooed, smirking at him. He cringed at the way you spoke down to him. He always found it humiliating when you called his cock things like cute and pretty or when you used really feminine adjectives to describe it.

"It's so sparkly," you told him, admiring the way the wet sheen caught the light. He was blushing hard by now, but he didn't skip a beat, his eyes still traveling to the screen in front of him.

"Can't even get another girl wet in your fantasies, hmm? Can only get off to me?" You teased him, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip. He knew how pitiful he probably looked to you, but he needed to cum more than he needed to look tough in front of you.

"I need you," he softly purred, peering into your eyes as he started stroking himself faster and harder. "I wish you could see how pathetic you look right now," you whispered, your lips curling in a devilish grin.

"Please. Keep going. I'm so close," he begged. "That's it. Be a good boy and play with that pretty cock for me, Matthew."

He whimpered and shuddered beneath his own touch and under the spell of your degrading words. "Yes, I'll be such a good boy," he cried, his voice cracking in desperation.

Seconds later, he was throbbing, his cum squirting out of his tip and glazing his stomach and his chest with his pearly white substance. A few finals moans poured from him as he finished himself off, a euphoric feeling overwhelming him and a sense of tranquility and calmness washing over him as he came back down from his high.

You gently ran your fingers through his hair and seductively peered into his hooded blue eyes. He stared back with a satisfied smile on his face while you taunted him, glancing down at his cum-covered flesh, "Wow! I can't believe such a sweet little cock made such a big mess!"

[moineauz]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅

synopsis: how he experiences the five stages of grief

including: veritas, jing yuan, sunday

side comments: live laugh love angst… anyways, these are all my own renditions of how i think they’ll experience grief. just keep in mind these ‘stages’ are not the same for everyone and can move in order etr. I was going to do blade and boothill but i think I'll do a separate post for that.

extra: gn except for jing yuan, mentions of marriage in jing yuan's, angst, a bit of substance use if you blink, established relationship, can you tell it's my first time writing sunday? favourites: jing yuan word count: 2000+

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Dr. Ratio is a man who took pride in being factual. His entire life was in the efforts of purging the world of ignorance; replacing it with truth. Yet, the hospital's fluorescent lights seemed to push his shoulders down- false. The flurry of movement merged and buzzed until Veritas could feel his ear drum shatter, false. Veritas's throat burned in silence- false. When your pale figure came into view: dressed in that hospital gown you despised, the heartbeat monitor's line flat- Veritas only thought was false.

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Veritas knew anger was the next stage. He was a doctor after all. The doctor who should have brushed his hands over your pale forehead. The doctor who should have heard your final words escape the lips he once traced. The doctor who should have raced to the defibrillator. The doctor who should have counselled and administered your medicine hand by hand, line by line. The doctor who shouldn't have trusted you're tender words and dotting smile. The doctor who should have held you're hand in public when you still could walk. The doctor who should have loved his spouse more.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

Margaret was no longer Dr. Ratio's assistant. Nevertheless, she found herself knocking at his office door, a loaf of homemade bread in tow and a small card bearing her sincerest empathy. Margaret recalled how Dr. Ratio's stoic expression twitched and busted into a radiant smile when you teased him. Similarly, Margaret recalled the coolness of your hands and the frequent coughs muffled in the dark corners of his office where you thought no soul could hear you.

"Dr. Ratio?" calls Margaret; knocking on the office door. "I baked some bread for you, is it possible for you to open the door?"

Margaret waits, however, there is no response. She sighs, gingerly placing the basket on the floor. "( Name ) would not want this of you, Dr. Ratio. Please-" she pauses, searching for the 'right' words, "Please take care of yourself."

Several hours pass, Margaret long gone. Dr. Ratio gradually opens the door, the bread gone cold. He sets the basket on a stack of books as the letter flutters to the ground unnoticed. Veritas resumes his ceaseless work.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

The world seems strangely slow yet incredibly fast. Tangible yet fickle. Veritas blinks; staring at the paper he has been writing for several months, the silence of his office serene. Veritas blinks again, however, his handwriting is a foreign entity in his mind like: a map of unnamed stars. The kind he fails to understand. What was he writing about? Veritas glances into the disorder of his office: papers strewn across the floor littered with empty mugs. What did drink again?

Veritas' eyes return back to his paper. However, the lines seem to blur and the black ink stains his hands. Something wet plummets onto the paper: droplets of salty rain.

For the first time in a year, Veritas wept and shuddered: his broad shoulders quivering.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

For the first time in years, the night is quiet. Nothing stirs him within the boundless expanse of his dreams. Your side of the bed- the one in which the indent of your body still impresses, fossilized until the end of eternity- remains empty. Yet, when the Doctor’s eyes flutter open- pieces of moonlight streaming into the bedroom- a tender smile, under the fragments of yet another year, gaze at your pillow. The place where your head- the one which bore your mind, the mind he praised and eventually sought after in deep ardency- would have been.

Veritas stretches his hand out and sighs, allowing the receding tide of moonlight to consume him.

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Each century blossoms and unfolds like a leaf; curling in on itself, one after another. Jing Yuan- the longest serving general, an immutable stream amongst jagged cliffs and tedious droughts- has navigated each trial and satisfaction with a placid smile and deep-set composure. Steadfast as the strike of thunder. Thus, as your body came to him- wrapped up in silk and satin, dressed for a place he could not reach- he did not waver, did not crumble, did not teeter on the tenacious line of undoing or succumb to an onslaught of hot, burning tears. No, he stood firm, feet planted into the ground, a series of complex roots. A system built from the movement of each dynasty; sailing into infinity.

None of those perdurable systems tumbled down at your cold, pale feet in either great armies of dust or strings of sorrowful defeat. In truth, the arbiter general was struck by another breed of anguish. A demand within himself that drowned in waters of tranquillity.

Why would his eyes not let him weep?

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Rumours are feisty beings, strangely tenacious until extinguished, lighting a spark under every tongue.

"Did you hear? The General's spouse-"

"If the Arbiter General can not ensure the safety of his own spouse, then perhaps it is time he retires-"

"Oh such sad news! I suppose even those with such strength are not privy to tragedy."

"I heard the order was under his command-"

Jing Yuan claws at the various papers strewn across his desk, his fingers twitching, chest heaving, the cord of his spine rattling-

He then breathes and settles into his chair, the whispers still reverberating in his head. The murmurs of others, though, most of his own.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

The infamous name- the Dozing General- could no longer be applied to Jing Yuan it seemed. Even Fu Xuan- in all of her astute and assiduous nature- observed how he toiled senselessly at the Seat of Divine Foresight; attempting to foresee fate and cut its wings before it could fly.

Nevertheless, the cadence of his voice reverberated the same. The winsome smile and regal prudence still lingered when addressing each official.

Yet, underneath- noted Fu Xuan- was a layer of unspoken words and evenings spent with wine and paperwork. While the twinkle, nestled within the golden brilliance of his eyes, dimmed ever so slightly. And perhaps, if seen under the silent beam of moonlight and incense, that same twinkle, vanished.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

A general has no time to weep.

"Are you the General Jing Yuan?"

Jing Yuan gazes down near his feet. There, a child- perhaps no older than seven- stands. Her eyes were large marbles of vast azure: wide, open, hungrily consuming the world around her.

A finite smile reaches his lips. "Yes, I am-" he crouches down to her height- "and you?"

The child giggles, a loud grin stretching across her face. "Do you know where Ms. (Name) is?"

Jing Yuan stops and his throat grows tight. His smile remains. "No, why do you ask?"

"She is going to teach me more about flowers!" bursts the child, stretching her arms out, revealing a small bouquet of chrysanthemums.

"Ms. (Name) said chrysanthemums mean happiness!" she chirps, "These ones are for you. Ms. (Name) often says giving flowers makes people feel good."

'She mixed them up,' muses Jing Yuan, his eyes depressing slightly, 'They are related to sadness.'

"Well... why thank you."

Jing Yuan observes the child run off, a gentle wind brushing against his hair. The bouquet of chrysanthemums clenched firmly in his fist

It is then, does Jing Yuan weeps.

The General is not seen at the Seat of Divine Foresight the following day.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

All existence reaches finality.

And yet, as Jing Yuan stood amongst rocking flowers and a grave of fireflies- their light illuminating the vast expanse of the valley- he heaves a languid, heavy sigh. Thus, muttering a string of inaudible sentences, whisking them away on a foreign planet only known by your flesh and tender bruised heart. Only known by the curve of your smile: as delicate as a moonbeam. And the air of your laughter: rich and gritty. Filled with sanguine songs and velvet kisses pressing and unfurling like the wings of a sparrow.

You took a flight to a distant star while Jing Yuan marked your coming and going. Wrote it on his calendar and etched it onto the tablet of his heart. For he was the dust behind your trailblaze, the chain of your necklace, the wind to your flight, the pause between your sentences. A visitor to your unfettered brilliance: a museum he spent hours enthralled with.

He'll meet you anew, as all existence reaches finality.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Sunday does not experience denial.

He spares no time for denial, for moments in which the world spins on its axis, when there is a loss for words, or a deep enlarging numbness yet to be felt. Not a minute is untouched, not a stride wasted. Sunday will peel Penacony apart like the skin of an orange- the kind you delighted yourself in until he silenced the voices and brought justice down at your frigid feet. A mission, a goal, a veil, an excuse to not falter nor sway.

Maybe then- when the curtains close- will he succumb to the gelid embrace of denial.

STAGE TWO: ANGER

Sunday does not experience anger.

Anger- notes Sunday- is a vile entity: flashes of red and spurs of desire and whim. It is neither planned, calculated, or bound by probity and accord nor coiled around the neck: firm and unyielding.

Anger gives birth to chaos, destruction; painting the sky with the distinct strikes of mortal failure.

And yet, the white satin of Sunday’s gloves itch and kindle; rubbing against his skin, akin to burning flesh. He stands alone in the solitude of his office, the door fastened shut, he quivers, shakes, the chair tumbles to the floor, it cracks, shatters, breaks.

It is not Sunday- not the polished reputable image- for this Sunday could crush the Penacony he born from his bare hands, snap its spine in half, and observe it crash and burn: a raging lighthouse to the darkened universe. He’ll paint himself the image of destruction: a portrait bearing his features.

However, Sunday- the visage of a man known by the throng- will never bind himself to such acts.

Perhaps in a dream- within his innermost subconscious- he will.

STAGE THREE: BARGAINING

Sunday does not bargain.

Sunday is faithful. Streamlined with virtue and prose, his head held a touch higher than the rest; allowing him to dwell beyond the scope of a singular moment. For he peers into the valley of an endless dream.

Yet, does the Order taunt him? Does the Harmony know of his sweet dream? Perhaps it is punishment, a game, a test, a question.

Was that dream- born from a chance encounter, raised by long languid nights, cherished between the crevices of his chest- never destined to be his? Could not a sliver of joy- he pleaded- be made for him?

A selfish pursuit, he noted, even to the Aeons.

STAGE FOUR: DEPRESSION

Sunday does not experience depression.

However, Robin deduces otherwise.

The Sunday she knows will not linger around a room- your office to be exact- and trace the bumps and texture of the wall until it becomes embedded into the flesh.

The Sunday she knows will not gaze blankly at portraits, chairs, paperwork, people, the bottom of his glass cup where a hue of auburn glimmers before him. His feathers sulking in the bar's limelight.

The Sunday she knows will not be the image she knew last: not when you swept across Penacony's chess board, shoved pieces aside and allowed the lingering fragrance of freedom to overtake every knight and king. Not when you drew the corners of her brother's lips up into a kaleidoscopic smile; she viewed Sunday in colours she thought he could never be equipped to express. You were enigmatic, riddled with an unbound spirit, the kind which took you farther than any halo or set of wings. Therefore, bewildering Sunday in ribbons of muted laughter and fluttering wings.

It is no wonder she observed her brother- basking in soulglad- whispering your name, muttered in the solemn cadence of prayer.

STAGE FIVE: ACCEPTANCE

Sunday hopes, that he'll reach acceptance.

Nestled within the ladder of his chest, he still longs for the curves of your body and the shadow of your figure to emerge behind that doorway. For your voice to reverberate across the halls; a string of melodies and bygone memory. That, perhaps, you'll wrap the supple length of your arms across his chest and tilt your head in the manner it had been replayed in his head. While whispering those same terms: your warmth translates from every syllable and sentence.

When the dream has receded, he'll emerge anew. Strike his foot down onto the blanket of the universe, a city of stars and wait patiently, working meticulously, to capture your glowing visage in the golden hue of his iris.

masterlist.

[sayoneee]

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside. 

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.” 

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him. 

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy. 

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash. 

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed. 

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side. 

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces. 

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you. 

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew. 

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual. 

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands. 

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands. 

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention. 

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder. 

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him. 

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars. 

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish. 

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes. 

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[luvybun]

omg i lovvved the mingyu drabble ! i was wondering if you could write something with wonwoo (my bias 😌🙌) and cam girl!reader?? maybe a little perv wonwoo vibes???

౨ৎ smile for the camera - jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

wonwoo found your camgirl account a while ago, but he hasn't been able to start watching you.

ᡣ𐭩 genre: pure smut ᡣ𐭩 cw: cam girl!reader, dirty talk, perv!wonwoo, dildos, mentions of rose toy ᡣ𐭩 words: 900 ᡣ𐭩 notes: raaahhhhh i love this request!!! tyty <3

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. any names, images, or references to real individuals are purely fictional and do not portray or represent their real-life counterparts in any way.

꒰୨୧꒱ 18+ content, MDNI ꒰୨୧꒱

wonwoo never meant for it to go on for this long. honestly. he just wanted to have a look - a short peak - at what you were up to. he couldn't have known that he would end up being so addicted to you.

when he gets home after a particularly rough day, he goes to wash up, eats dinner, and then immediately sits down in front his computer. to play games? no. it used to be what he would do, but that hasn't been part of his routine for a long time.

he goes onto the camgirl site you're on. when you first mentioned that you had been filming yourself to make some extra money, wonwoo couldn't stop thinking about it until he had to look you up.

now, when he's ready to settle down in front of his computer, there are two things that could happen. either, he's going to watch a video of you and jerk off. or, even better, you'll be live.

the last few nights, you'd been live. tonight was no different. his palms started getting sweaty as soon as he saw the red LIVE button next to the thumbnail. you had only been live for a minute or so. perfect. when he clicked on the video, adjusting himself to be able to pull out his cock from his boxers, you appeared in front of him.

you were in a flimsy tank top, leaning forward to show off the swell of your breasts. your face was cut off right by your nose, showing your plump and glossy lips.

"ooh, more people are joining." you adjusted yourself in your seat. "good... what do you guys wanna see tonight? i've got some new toys for you."

wonwoo reached for his keyboard and immediately started typing.

g4m3-b01: show us, please ⭐️ g4m3-b01 donated $20

"awe, thank you, game boy." you turned beside you to look at, what wonwoo could only assume was, your new toys. "since you're a regular, i'll let you pick. my new glass dildo or the new rose toy?"

fuck. wonwoo reached for his lube to keep it close, before he went to type again.

g4m3-b01: i'd love to see the new dildo

you giggled. "you're always so polite..."

you pulled out the new glass dildo. it was bigger than the one you already had. as soon as you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the tip, wonwoo had his cock out and in his hand. the dildo entered your mouth and you slowly bobbed your head down it. soft moans, muffled by the glass cock, echoed in wonwoo's headphones. he teased his tip, trying to work himself up as if he wasn't already ready to bust.

you took out the dildo from your mouth with a pop. "it's so big... think it'll fit inside my pussy?"

wonwoo groaned at the thought and started stroking himself slowly. he watched as you took off your top, groping your tits and making your nipples pebble before you shifted to sit back. you sat back and spread your legs, showing off your dripping cunt.

"gotta stretch myself out first, right?" you said as you bring your fingers down to your entrance.

"yes..." wonwoo groaned.

he watched you play with your pussy, whines and whimpers escaping your lips. you don't let yourself get too worked up before you reach for the dildo. as you start sinking it into yourself, you let out a groan.

"are you enjoying this? do you like watching me fuck myself?" you asked.

wonwoo felt a little startled. this wasn't very different from your usual dirty talk, but he can't help but feel a twinge of anxiety... that surprisingly only turned him on more. you continued sinking the dildo into yourself until it bottomed out.

"oh, it's filling me up so good... are you picturing that this is you, baby? is that why you keep watching me?" you smiled and wonwoo's stomach twisted, but he didn't stop stroking himself.

you kept fucking yourself, kept talking to the camera... but it started getting more specific.

"you just get right home and come to watch me, don't you?"

"do you think about bending me over the nearest surface whenever you're with me?"

are you really talking to him? do you know? how?

you get closer to your climax, wonwoo's started to be able to tell. your voice grows pitchier, your legs start shaking, and your hips start jerking up against the dildo.

"want you to cum with me, game boy..." you whined.

wonwoo moaned out loud. he wasn't sure how he was going to look you in the eye tomorrow at your mutual friends' movie night. you started counting down, and wonwoo edged himself until you got to one. you let out a loud moan and came over your new dildo and wonwoo came soon after you. after taking a few seconds to recover, you started softly talking to the camera. the usual "cool-down, pseudo pillow-talk" that made wonwoo's brain buzz. he grabbed the box of tissues on his desk and started cleaning himself up.

"thank you for joining me tonight, lovely," you murmured. "... i'll see you tomorrow."

wonwoo's eyes shifted back to the screen in shock. you just smiled before you turned off your web cam, leaving wonwoo sat in the dark with his heart racing from more than just his orgasm.

[bigwishes]

I wish I could be a big guy. I’ve always wanted to get into the gym more but I just can’t find the motivation. But I see these guys online and in the gym when I pass. Huge muscle. Sweat. Looking like they lift as a full time job.

Sure thing bro

You wanna be huge? Why not 6.8ft! Want guys to be intimated by your shadow? Well I'll just widen your shoulders and fill your lats with so much mass you'll constantly block out the light behind you and get stuck in any door way.

And we can't have a big meat head walking around with a fully expected now can we? Well that's an easy fix, make your upper back and shoulders so big you look like you'll topple over.

Now how bout those arms? Biceps bigger than your own head sound nice and triceps that split your sleeves. But you can't just be top heavy. You need a big juicy muscle ass and legs so fucking huge it causes you to stand wide and waddle with each step.

What do ya think? Like the new you?

Well we aren't done just yet

I can't just go around making guys into the perfect man, so how about a happy, lil compromise?

Next time you feel yourself get hard you'll be forced to jerk off, you won't be able to help it! And with each stroke your big meaty man hood will shrink, inch by inch until you are left with a pathetic tiny roid abused dick, only able to let out a drop of cum as your whole load each week.

That should stop you from getting distracted from the gym

And I know you have a thing for men with big feet? Well why should you miss out? Next time you put your gym shoes on you'll feel like your feet are burning up, and they'll get bigger with each step until your monstrously sized sweaty feet bust our of your shoes, it'll happen again and again forcing you to be a barefoot behemoth.

Finally for the cherry on top will scramble your brain! Open up your skull and just dump a protein shake inside. You'll have an empty exhausted stare as you constantly pant to fill your body with oxygen, you'll be stuck with slured dumb speech inserting the word bro randomly. The only thing your mind will be able to understand is how to lift weight till it hurts then hiw to eat till the hurt stops.

Your only goal in life now getting so big you can't move.

Enjoy your tiny cock you dumb fucking meat head.

[fict1onallyobsessed]

patching sevika up after her fight with vi 😞😞

Okay!!

--

"What the fuck." You whispered when you heard the clatter of things falling in the hallway of your house. The faint grunts and huffs of your girlfriend could be heard through the thin walls, a slight scowl covering your face as you tried to listen in to make sure it was her.

"Don't start." She simply grumbled as you walked into the living room, trying to take the sight in with horror on your face. Sevika was bloody, looked much worse than usual after fights, and she looked exhausted. Without a word, you went to grab a few towels and a first aid kid, knowing this would be a long night of stitching again.

You sighed as you sat down beside her, grabbing her jaw to inspect the massacre on her face. Her cheek bone looked shattered, a purple bruise already forming, and her skin was so busted open from punches that you weren't sure you had enough sutures.

She met your eyes as you looked over her face. She was acting different than after other fights she had, much calmer, more relaxed. Almost as if she wasn't fully there.

You looked down at her abdomen to find it covered in blood, but before you could reach for her shirt, she grabbed your wrists and made you look at her.

"It's not mine."

Without another word, you grabbed the alcohol and put it on a rag before dabbing it on her cheek. She flinched but hid her reaction well, knowing you got worried over her to a point she couldn't understand. Still, she let you touch her. Let you grab at her chin, move her head around as you fixed her up, stitch up her cuts and wounds.

"Anywhere else?" You asked simply, looking down at her bloody stomach once again. She was sure she had brain damage after being thrown and slammed into the concrete wall so many times. She wondered how she wasn't unconscious, or if she would be later. Yet, she couldn't have you fix her brain. As much as you'd probably want to.

"Vi's back."

You looked down at her again, suddenly understanding the situation. You understood how much it had to have taken to fight Vi, after thinking she was dead for so long. You understood why she was so tired.

"Is that her blood?"

She nodded and hummed, closed her eyes and tossed her head back onto the back of the couch. You took the opportunity to look over her again, just to be sure she wasn't bleeding from anywhere else. But instead, you found the huge bruise forming on her stomach when her shirt rose up.

You sighed and closed the first aid kit, standing up to put it away and get Sevika some new, clean clothes. She stopped you though, grabbing your hands and pulling you just enough for you to fall onto her lap, your legs either side of hers. You tried not to fall too hard, knowing she was hurting even if she claimed to be fine.

"What-"

She sat with her head on your chest, hands wrapping around your waist to keep you close. A small sigh escaped her lips, hands refusing to loosen up on you. You didn't ask questions, you'd get answers soon enough.

You wrapped your arms around her head to keep her there, gently stoking her hair (and secretly looking for more wounds).

She wasn't good with words. She made sure you knew it when you first got together. She didn't want you to expect her to voice her feelings. So instead she found other ways to show you she was grateful for you, like trusting you enough to have you hold her like this.

"She'll be back." She said lowly. "I'll probably look worse next time."

"Then I'll be here to stitch you up again."

--

HOPE YOU LIKED IT :)

[mins-fins]

the cure

&&. mark shows up to your place bleeding red, and red is your least favorite color.

pairing: mark lee x gn!reader

genre: fluff, spiderman!mark & student nurse!reader

warnings: descriptions of injuries, blood, and violence

word count: 1.3k

notes: this was supposed to come out yesterday but i had the worst migraine and literally ended up passing out 😆 its okay though the grind never stops!! this little bit (spiderman + med student) was originally supposed to be longer and it might still be longer form i just cant begin that right now 😓 okay everyone have a good day and dont get a migraine like isa

mark, for some reason, feels guilty.

his guilt manifests in the blood that trickles down his side, the cut digs into his heart, rips it out, and stomps on it. the figurative scars hurt more than the literal one, and though the pain is excruciating, he feels much more disappointed than anything.

jeez that guy did him bad, he didn't know pocket knives could do that much damage, he was just trying to go about his night on that skyscraper, but of course, something had to happen.

since when do robbers carry knives? he probably won't be able to get over that for a while.

but mark doesn't allow for himself to stumble, he doesn't need for things to become worse. though he would usually just go home and try to deal with the cuts himself, he instead brings himself to another apartment, sitting outside on the balcony of a familiar room.

he peaks over, pressing his face against the window. he raises his fist and softly knocks on the glass, alerting the person inside of his presence. you turn around upon hearing the noise, a muted gasp escaping your lips as you rush towards the window to open it.

"mark? oh my god are you— jesus".

mark simply gives a dorky smile, no teeth, and you usher him in, supporting him as he slumps down the moment he enters your room. "is this a bad time?" he manages to ask, biting back his wince as he feels your finger lightly grace the wound on his hip, the blood smearing onto your hand.

"no, it's just.." you pause, collecting yourself as you stare at the crimson belonging to mark. "i'll be right back" you rush towards the bathroom, and mark watches each of you movements.

after washing your hands, you return with a first aid kit and warm wet cloth, mark immediately smiles once he hears your footsteps. "alright, let's bandage you up now" you whisper, again kneeling to mark's level as you examine the cut.

there's a slit in mark's suit where the cut resides, a nauseating gash that makes even you, a nurse in training, grimace. you tilt your head to the side, lips pursued as you focus on bandaging mark up, not wanting for it to get infected.

mark closes his eyes in exhaustion, holding back his winces as you press the wet cloth to his damaged skin, dabbing away the blood. the pain is evident on his face, his expressions much too obvious to be feigned. "hurts huh?"

your boyfriend hums, opening one of his eyes. "yeah" he can't help the frown that graces his lips, a frown you pick up on.

"this isn't the first time right?" you know, of course you know, you can read mark like he's your favorite work of literature. mark never understands how you do it, but he also decides never to question it.

"no" his tongue runs over his teeth, somehow feeling disappointed. he lightly shifts in his position when he feels you apply ointment to the cut, finally allowing that well needed wince to leave his lips. "i didn't mean to hide all my wounds from you i just.. i didn't want you to worry".

you offer a small chuckle. "i worry about you either way, baby".

the petname makes the heat on his face amplify, and he looks down at the floor. "and you don't like red.."

you blink. "what?"

mark begins picking at his nails, embarrassed. "you don't like red, i didn't want to constantly show up all cut and busted up, i just wanted to save you the worry".

your gaze softens, but mark avoids your eyes anyway, somewhat ashamed of the words he just muttered.

knowing your boyfriend is spiderman hasn't really assured any of your worries. before, it was just anxiety about how much work he was putting himself through, and now it was anxiety about literally everything. he could show up on your doorstep or windowsill with wounds all over him, terribly injured, and he'd just.. smile. how could you not worry?

"you don't have to save me anything, i'm here to make sure you're okay" you say, frowning at the whole display before you. "so.. how do i take this off?"

"wow, trying to undress me already?"

you playfully hit mark's shoulder, and he giggles at your resulting expression. still, he points you to the zipper on his suit, and you begin unzipping the spandex so you can reveal his other scars much easier. mark isn't focusing on that, though, he's instead focused on the rip in his very own suit. "fucker put a tear in it".

you let out an amused snicker, but mark's frown doesn't falter. "is that really all you care about?"

your boyfriend shrugs. "well i do care about it, i spent so much time sewing it.."

realizing he was genuinely upset about it, your smile falls, pointer finger trailing down his neck, feeling all of the scars from previous battles. "i'll help you sew it back, okay?" you use your free hand to tilt his chin towards you, and the smile you offer makes him smile.

"you're so gentle" mark lets his head slowly fall onto your shoulder, humming in solace at the feeling of warmth surrounding him. "i should've come to you sooner".

"well you can come to me now" you respond, voice laced with nothing but adoration. "think i can do a better job at patching you up than what you've been doing for all this time.."

you use your free hand to cup mark's face, squishing his cheeks. you chuckle at the display, completely enamored by the sight before you. "i'll take care of you now, you always know where to find me".

mark doesn't respond, worn out from literally everything, but his smile says it all. he again leans against you, and you can feel his heart beating. the sweetness of his smile contrasts the red that still stain his skin, but he no longer minds. "you're too nice to me".

"that's my job".

mark opens his eyes, staring at you for a moment, silent. then, he sits up and places his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

you yelp at the sudden change of mood, but you snicker, and mark feels your smile against his lips. your back just lightly hits your bed, legs coming up as mark's hand holds your jaw, gently keeping you in place as his presses become much more frenzied.

there's a slight whine that comes from you, and mark retreats for air a small while after, hands still holding onto your jaw, his finger beginning to caress your skin. "sorry.." he mutters, his head falling onto your chest.

you let out a silent laugh. "for what?"

mark's arms come to wrap around you, leaving you trapped in your place. "worrying you, it was just—"

you press your pointer finger to his lips, effectively shutting him up. "you don't have to explain it anymore, babe, you're okay, and that's all that matters to me".

if mark's cheeks dust red, he again tries to hide that fact by hiding his face from you. "love you".

the words are small, nothing but a whisper in your expanse of a room, but you hear them loud and clear. his arms circled around your waist leave you with a feeling of warmth, easement that just brightens your night a little bit more.

"i love you too, but you can't fall asleep on me like this".

mark almost lets out a whine, but he just frowns. "at least let me change you into something comfortable, and finish cleaning that other cut".

and though mark doesn't want to let you go, he also can't help but smile at the words.

your favorite color isn't red, it's your least, but when mark bleeds red, that all becomes unnecessary.

you'll be here to patch up all of his red, you're sure of it.

[superhaught]

Sweetest Girl (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning(s): discussion of disability

Word Count: 2200, Part 2/?

Author's Note: I was able to finish chapter 2! I'm sorry for the massive delay since positing any writing, it's been a time recently. I'll keep doing my best but pls don't hold it against me if I don't post for a while again. I still care about Regina so so much. Thank you to bestie @sapphicantics for helping me go back to this and reading it first :P

Summary: Reader goes over to Regina's house to work on some more chemistry lessons.

Part 1

Friday’s chemistry lecture was cut off by the dismissal bell and the teacher frustratingly called out as students were already busting through the door, “quiz on Monday! Don’t forget and study hard this weekend!” 

You were packing up your notes when five perfectly manicured fingernails rapped on the corner of your desk. 

You looked up and met the blonde's eyes. 

“So quiz on Monday, can I get some extra tutoring this weekend?” 

You nodded slowly, “do you want me to come to your place?” 

“I do.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want -“ 

“I already told you, yes. Stop being so weird about it. Tomorrow. Come over around lunchtime. My mom will feed us then we can work.” 

You bit your lip and then nodded again, “okay.” 

Regina gave you her version of a smile and then flicked her hair behind her shoulder as she left the classroom. 

You saw that the teacher had been watching your exchange.

“It’s working,” they said, “whatever you’re doing. Her homework was better.” 

“You definitely can’t tell me that.” 

“Just keep it up. She’ll be okay.” 

You smiled and nodded, hugging your books to your chest and leaving the classroom. 

After a twenty-five minute walk, you were standing at the end of the driveway to the George residence. 

You looked up at the massive house in awe. It was clearly a new build. Likely custom-designed by the Georges. Two stories. Huge yard. You imagined an underground pool and a deck with a built-in, year round jacuzzi in the back. A movie theater and second kitchen in the basement. A yoga room with a Peleton for Ms. George. Master bath with a soaking tub. 

You were afraid to go in. 

You stood outside and stared for a minute longer before finally walking up the driveway (not made of asphalt or cement, but pristine white rocks). You walked past Regina’s Jeep, a Mercedes, and an Audi all parked (as well as a children’s Barbie Jeep abandoned in the lawn, belonging to Regina’s younger sister you assumed). 

You giggled at that. You imagined Regina either beaming with pride or fuming with rage at the idea of her little sister wanting a matching car to Regina. 

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the front door and waited for a moment, hearing a faint “get the door!” from inside.

Regina opened the door, “hey, did you find parking on the street?” 

“Oh, I didn’t drive.”

“Someone dropped you off then? Do you have a ride home after?” 

You shook your head, “I walked.” 

“What the fuck?” 

A woman called out from inside the house, “Regina! Language!” 

Regina clenched her jaw and inhaled slowly through her nose, flaring her nostrils. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you responded quietly. 

Regina rolled her eyes, “I’ll drive you home when we’re done, Jesus Christ.” 

“You really don’t have to drive me home, it’s okay.” 

“Shut up, it’s literally nothing. Now come inside you weirdo.” 

You followed Regina in, and the interior of the house was even more grand than the exterior. 

You didn’t have much time to take it all in before Regina’s mom was pouncing on you and pulling you into a hug then holding your shoulders and examining you head to toe, “well aren’t you a cute little thing!? I love meeting Regina’s new friends.” 

“She’s my tutor mom.” 

“Cute and smart, then! Well I hope the two of you become friends, Regina needs good influences in her life.” 

“Mom.” 

Ms. George raised her hands in mock-surrender, “Sorry! I’m just trying to be helpful, my goodness.” 

You tried to force a smile and fidgeted with the zipper of your jacket awkwardly. 

“Did you make us snacks?” 

“Oh yes!” Ms. George trotted back into the kitchen and came back with a tray stacked with a variety of finger foods and fruity little drinks complete with excessive garnishes. She passed the tray to you, “here you ladies go. Study hard!” 

“Thanks,” Regina didn’t wait around any longer before starting up the staircase to the second floor and expecting you to follow behind.

“Um, it was nice meeting you!” You directed to Ms. George, “you have a beautiful home.” 

“Thank you sweetie-“ 

“Hurry up.” Regina cut her mom off while standing at the top of the steps with a hand on her hip.

You rushed up the rest of the steps and followed Regina into her room. She immediately went to her floor-length mirror and adjusted her hair while you set the tray of snacks down on her vanity. 

“Not there,” Regina snapped, as if it was obvious.

“Where then?” 

Regina pointed lazily toward the ottoman at the foot of her bed and you obeyed, setting the tray down and then helping yourself to a handful of homemade trail mix. 

Regina came over and sat down on her bed and grabbed a single celery stick to eat. 

You must have made a face that Regina noticed because she raised an eyebrow at you, “what?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you making that face?” 

“Oh, nothing, I just don’t like celery.” 

“You don’t have to eat it.” 

“I know, Regina.” You could feel yourself shrinking as your shoulders slumped. 

“It’s like negative calories so.”

“Well, actually…” 

Regina narrowed her eyes at you.

“Nevermind. So, do you want to work on material for the quiz?” 

Regina threw herself backwards and collapsed into her duvet in exasperation, “ugggghhhh!” 

“That’s why you wanted me to come over, right?” 

“Well duh… I’m just tired.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Regina propped herself up on her elbows and looked at you, “for what?” 

“That you’re tired?” 

She scoffed, “you don’t need to be sorry about that. See? You’re too nice.” 

You shrugged, “I guess it’s just something people say.” 

“Oh? So you agree, then? That niceness is a facade that people use to disguise their true feelings?” 

You shook your head, incredulous, “I didn’t say that.”

“Are you really, actually sorry that I’m tired or are you just saying it, then?“ 

You took a beat to think and then answered emphatically, “I am actually sorry. It’s called empathy. I feel bad that you feel rundown, and if you aren’t up for studying today, I would understand.” 

She raised an eyebrow again in her classic fashion, “I guess I just really don’t understand that. Why would you feel bad that I’m tired? And why wouldn’t you be upset if I wasn’t in the mood to study after you put in the effort to walk all the way here?” 

“I don’t know why, that’s just how I feel. What should I say instead? I don’t care that you’re tired, suck it up I’m here to make you better at chemistry?” 

“Maybe you should,” Regina shrugged. 

You shook your head, “I don’t want to say that. That’s not helpful to anyone. Are you going to retain any of the content we go over if I push you to do it when you don’t feel good?” 

“How do you know I’m not lying or just complaining for the sake of it? Maybe I need to be pushed.”

“Fine, give me a reason then. Why are you tired?” 

Regina thought about it for a minute, then her voice came out surprisingly quiet, “you know the accident from last year? The bus thing?” 

You nodded. 

She sighed, “It’s been a long recovery. I don’t usually talk about it with anyone.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it with me if you don’t feel comfortable, but… I am here if you did want to. Talk about it, I mean.” 

Regina didn’t say anything. She started to pick at the skin around her fingernails. 

You recognized the behavior right away because you do it too. Without thinking, you moved to sit across from her on the bed and reached out, clasping your hand around hers. 

The blonde stared at you shocked. 

“Shit, I… I’m sor-“ you began, starting to pull away. 

She didn’t let you go, “It’s okay. Don’t apologize.” 

The gesture must have cracked her armor, if only a little. She shrugged her shoulders and explained, “the accident injured my neck and back so I’m doing physical therapy twice a week for that and I’ve been diagnosed with something called POTS. So my heart is all fucked up or something. I'm exhausted and in pain most of the time even though I'm taking like six different meds every day.” 

“That sounds really hard.”

“But I feel like…” her voice failed her. She frowned, cleared her throat, and started again, “I feel like I shouldn’t complain about it… wouldn’t be cute to bitch about it when everyone…” she lowered her head and stared at her comforter, “when everyone thinks I probably deserved it.” 

You frowned and squeezed her hand, “do you think you deserved to get hit by a bus?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It feels that way sometimes. Like I was supposed to learn some kind of lesson from it. Like I was supposed to suddenly be a better person and be grateful and be an inspiration or whatever. But that’s like some biblical bullshit. And I’m not a better person. I'm still just me but now my body doesn’t work and people don’t even bother pretending to like me anymore.” The dam had burst. The corners of her eyes started to sting with painful tears. “I’m not grateful. I don’t think what happened to me was an inspiration or whatever. I just wish I wasn’t sick and I wish that people didn’t expect anything from me.” With that, she retracted her hands from you, quickly wiped her face with her sleeves and she continued to look anywhere but right at you.

“Regina, thank you for sharing that with me. I want to help you as much as I can.”

“Why, though?”

“Because I want to.”

Regina met your eyes again, scrutinizing you. Trying to find deception that wasn’t there. 

When she finally gave up she just said, “I don’t understand you.”

You laughed, “I’ve gathered that.”

She smiled and then rolled her eyes.

“Hey, do me a favor, okay? Go change into something comfy and then lets just watch something for a bit. Whatever you want. We can recharge a little and then see about studying, and if it doesn’t happen, it’s okay.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes.”

Regina breathed a sigh of relief and then visibly relaxed before getting up and walking to her large closet. She came back out a few minutes later, having changed into baggy sweats. She wordlessly sat down at her vanity, tied her hair up in a loose bun, cleaned her makeup off and then replaced her contact lenses with glasses. 

You smiled to yourself while watching her. She caught you looking over in the mirror and you quickly looked away before seeing her reaction if any. 

When she came back to the bed, laptop in hand, she said, “I’d usually never let anyone see me like this.”

“Well, then I consider myself lucky. Unless you don’t plan on letting me leave here alive now that I’ve seen you ‘like this,’” putting air quotes around your words.

“Cheeky…” Regina smirked and sat back down on the bed next to you, constructing a pile of pillows against the headboard to lean on, “you wouldn’t know until it was too late, though.”

You smiled as she continued.

“I guess I just don’t really care right now.”

“Well, I’m glad that you feel at ease with me. Not that you’re any less pretty than before.”

“You liar!”

“What? I’m not lying!”

“I’m not pretty right now. I’m all puffy and my hair is gross and I have my stupid glasses on and I’m wearing my mom’s old college sweatshirt.”

You shrugged, “you are pretty, Regina. You have freckles, I didn’t know that. And your hair looks cute like this, the little strands framing your face… I don’t know, you look pretty to me.”

Regina narrowed her eyes at you and then shook her head, “okay, whatever. Let’s just… watch something now.” She redirected her attention to opening up streaming on her laptop, “have you ever seen Real Housewives?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh my god. Okay I’m catching up on New Jersey right now, I’ll try to fill you in.”

You smiled and nodded. 

She started the show and slid a little closer to you so that she could rest the laptop on both of your laps. 

You ended up watching the show all evening, only interrupted by Ms. George bringing some dinner upstairs for you both along with Regina’s meds.

“Sweetheart, you look… comfortable.” Ms. George remarked, her tone unmistakably judgemental. 

The corners of Regina’s mouth downturned just slightly.

“Yeah you know we just decided to have a relaxing night. No need to be all done up.” You smiled, “thank you so much for bringing us food, Ms. George.” 

The woman was thrown off and you felt victorious.

“Oh, of course. I’ll… go get you girls some popcorn.” Ms. Geroge left and shut the door behind her. 

Regina released a breath she was holding and whispered, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… for what you just did.”

You shrugged and took a bite of food, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Regina’s eyebrows raised and then she just laughed in disbelief before turning the show back on and saying, “you continue to surprise me…”

Next Chapter

[wakasaswifee]

⇢OBSESSED | Rin itoshi

⇢NSFW

T/W: obsession, nsfw, dubcon, mean rin, stalker rin, obsessed rin, nipple torture, finger play??, a bit of fluff? - don't read if you're uncomfortable with these topics

A/n: mind you, I was half asleep writing this so forgive me for any mistakes. I thought of this while watching black clover 💀 don't ask. Minors don't interact 🙏🏻

Characters: (AGED UP) Rin itoshi x Afab reader

Anime: blue lock

Words: 1k

Obsessed!Rin who has no idea how to act around you. He's so awkward and introverted that he can’t even speak to you without turning a deep shade of red.

Obsessed!Rin who always has his eyes on you, whether you know it or not—even before you two started dating.

Obsessed!Rin who threatens every guy that talks to you because, obviously, no other man should be touching or speaking to what's his. Most importantly, your eyes should only be on him.

Obsessed!Rin who would skip practice just to watch you and see what you do throughout the day. It’s a little creepy, but that’s okay, right? He only wants to keep you safe. So don’t get mad at him.

Obsessed!Rin who isn’t afraid to throw hands with anyone who hurts you. “You ever speak to her with that disgusting attitude again, and next time your ass will be six feet deep.”

Obsessed!Rin who shows up at your house in the middle of the night with busted hands and bleeding lips, just so you can drag him inside and mend his wounds in silence. His eyes stay locked on you as you carefully place cute little bandages over his injuries.

Obsessed!Rin who brushes the hair out of your face while you apply medication to the cuts on his knuckles. “Y'know, you look so pretty like this. You look pretty all the time, but you’re even prettier when your attention is solely on me.” You roll your eyes, but it’s impossible not to blush. How could you not when he’s so sweet to you?

Obsessed!rin who wouldn't be able to help himself but look down your shirt while you're leaning over, to see you're not wearing a bra under your old night shirt

Obsessed!rin who wouldn't even hide the fact he's looking at your hardened nipples through your shirt. He may be a pervert but that's okay, right? As long as you don't mind..

Obsessed!rin who would get hard while you scold him for being so reckless

Obsessed!Rin who would get lost in your eyes while you're getting mad at him and telling him to be better.

Obsessed!Rin who would tell you he hasn't eaten all day just so you can cook something and feed it to him. Oh, the poor baby is hurt, and he can't feed himself. He's just so tired.

Obsessed!Rin who, after finishing his food, would grab you by the wrist and pull you in just to lick any remains off your finger—even though your hands are clearly clean.

Obsessed!Rin who wouldn’t let go of your hand, taking your middle and ring fingers into his mouth and sliding his tongue between them, keeping his eyes on you.

Obsessed!Rin who would notice how tightly your thighs are pressed together as he feasts on your hand.

Obsessed!Rin who would smirk at the thought of you getting turned on and push you so you fall back onto the couch.

Obsessed!rin who would adjust his boner at the sight of you lying back onto the couch, both your arms between your thighs as you kept them close only for his smirk to drop. He'd feel hurt, how could you be so mean, he waited so long for you and you couldn't even be a good girl and keep your legs open for him so he can see your wet panties.

Obsessed!rin who would place his hands on your exposed thighs and gently coo you into opening your legs for him just so you could make room for him in between them. "C'mon, open up for me. I won't hurt you, I promise. I'll be gentle, okay?" Which was clearly all a lie

Obsessed!rin who wouldn't wait a second before attacking your neck. Pinning your arms to the sofa so you couldn't escape. He'd bite and suck and break the smooth skin on your neck and shoulders. He'd leave hickies so everyone can see. He can hear you crying, telling him it hurts but your cries only turn him on even more and it's not his fault you walk around with such perfect skin. untouched and unmarked.

Obsessed!rin who would kiss your cheeks and tell you everything is fine and there's nothing to cry about

Obsessed!rin who would would pinch and bite your nipples over your shirt that it'd be impossible to keep yourself from moaning. "You like that, doll. Feels good, huh? You thought I'd stay calm after how your tits looked so tempting poking through your shirt, just begging for my attention"

Obsessed!rin who would freeze after hearing your angelic moans, only to continue with a devilish grin plastered across his face. Continuing to abuse your poor virgin nipples. He sucked one of them, not so gently and the other one was at the mercy of his larger hands

You'd feel yourself getting more and more aroused but you didn't dare voice it

Obsessed!rin who would slam his lips down onto yours if you got too loud for his liking. Of course he didn't mind your cries and moans but he couldn't have you waking up the neighbours with his name on your tongue. "Shh quiet now, I know it feels good but you're being too loud" he'd softly say, his mouth not even a centimeter away from yours.

Obsessed!rin who would grab your visibly smaller hands than his and place them overtop his erection and quietly whisper in your ear. "You see, doll. This is what you do to me"

Obsessed!rin who would end up finishing in the tight confines of his pants and moan your name under his breath, right against the shell of your ear; just so he can have you turning red and squirming beneath him.

Obsessed!rin who would act like he passed out from fatigue on top of you just so you both can end up sleeping together even though you were probably having trouble breathing all night because of how heavy he is but maybe it wasn't so bad.. having his intoxicating scent invade your nose and his large arms wrapped around you to keep you from leaving. You wouldn't even be able to push him off, you'll just have to let his large body be on top of you, his torso in between your legs and his face cuddled up in the crook of your neck.

©2025 wakasasawifee do not copy

[kaliforniahigh]

Thinking about Cuddling Noah when he comes home late from tour but he gets needy and you have slow, i missed you sex for the rest of the night

I fear I've done something LOL

Smut below the cut (somewhat sweet sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming in the end)

You're both laying in bed, on your sides, facing each other. Mouths moving in a slow and languid kiss. Noah's hand moves from your waist, to your thighs as he hitches one of them to rest over his hips. The action makes the two of you get even closer, if that was possible.

You have one hand tangled in his hair, the feeling under your fingers one that you've missed terribly over the months. He's shirtless, and you take advantage of this fact to feel his abs under your palm, and he twitches a bit at the feeling.

Parting, but still resting your lips against each other, he hooks one hand under the knee of your leg that is propped against him, and the action lets you know what he wants, but he says it anyways.

"C'mon, get on top of me", he murmurs against your lips, and you oblige.

He's now resting on his back and you have both legs straddling his waist. You're only wearing one of his shirts, but you take it off in order to feel his skin against yours.

"Fucking missed you on top of me like this, baby", he says, as his hands reach for you. You leaned down to capture his lips in yet another kiss. His hand gripping the back of your neck to keep you close to him.

Involuntarily, his hips buck upwards and you hiss at the sensation. The thin shorts he usually wears to bed doing nothing to hide the visible tent and arousal.

"Need you inside of me", you whine against his lips. He would love to take his time with you, but the desperation in your voice cracks something within him, and he gives you a teasing grin. He loves when his girl is so desperate for him that she forgoes any kind of foreplay.

"You can have it, angel"

Reaching down between your bodies, you slip his shorts down just enough to free his dick from it's confines. When you're done, he slips your panties to the side, as you take him in your hands and guide him to your entrance.

Noah takes in a sharp breath from how wet you feel already, as you slowly sink down on him. Both of you opening your mouths and letting out a silent gasp at the feeling.

You, from how nice he's stretching you out and how deep he feels inside of you. Him, from how easily he slips in and how tight you are around him.

When you bottom out, his big hands rest on the swell of you ass, keeping you in place. You want to move, but he won't let you.

"Need you to fuck me, please", you breathlessly tell him, trying to move your hips back and forth and failing once again.

"I know, baby", he moves one hand to stroke your hair. "Just need a minute, ok? Otherwise I'll bust inside this pretty pussy and we can't have that, right?"

You whine, because you don't care if it doesn't last, you just need to feel the friction of him moving in and out of you.

After a couple of minutes, his hands start to guide you. Slow and steady movement at first, back and fourth over his pelvis. But soon, he grows restless himself.

"Shit, baby", he gasps when you start moving up and down. "Yeah, just like that. Wanna see you boucing on my dick"

You fasten your movements at his praise, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, along with your moans and his grunts.

"Fuck, you're so deep", you mewl at the sensation he's providing you.

Your words give him a new purpose, because as much as he knows you're loving this, he can make it even better for you. So he plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting up into you, which makes your moans get even louder.

He observers your face, eyes screwing shut and mouth hanging open. He wants to take a picture of the moment and take it everywhere with him.

"You gonna cum for me? I can feel you clenching around me already", he teases a little, moving his hand over your stomach, up your clavicle and gripping your chin in his hand.

You can only string together a couple of yeses. You wanted to quip back at him that he was teasing too much for someone who wanted to bust five seconds into having sex. But he was hitting that spot soo deep and soo good inside of you, that you decided to keep quiet.

A few seconds later, you can feel that familiar knot in your stomach starting to unravel. The feeling was overwhelming and nothing like the orgasms you could archive with your hands while he was gone.

"I'm gonna cum", you tell him, voice tight and face twisted in pleasure. He doubled his efforts at your words, feeling himself ready to fall over the edge righ along with you.

"Yes, please, please, please....", he brought your faces closer together, and soon, you were writhing in top of him, a strangled moan coming from between your lips as you came.

His hips stilled their movements and you felt the warmth of him spilling inside of you. The feeling of you two coming at the same time something that never failed to make you feel on cloud 9.

You laid on top of him, both of you trying to catch your breaths. He moved his nails up and down your back in a soothing motion.

Noah wanted to memorize the weight of your body on top of his, your chest moving up and down rapidly, and the evidence of your love dripping down the length of his dick and into the bed sheets.

After a few minutes, you tried to move, to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up and bring a towel so he could do the same. But his hands prevented you from moving.

"No, no, no. Just stay here for a bit", he kissed your temple. "Wanna be inside you for a little longer. Missed this feeling so much", he said, but his voice was a little drowsy already, and his eyes tired and even cuter than usual.

Who were you to deny him? You missed him just as much, and the way he made you feel so full.

So you rested your head against his chest and let the tiredness take over you.

[aangelinakii]

ANGEL AT THE TOP OF THE TREE.

— getting in the christmas spirit!

summary : you and jason spend your first christmas together, and what better way to get in the mood than to focrce him to decorate the tree you made him carry in here?

him? decorate a christmas tree?

jason peter todd had never heard of it— well, of course he has, but no one's ever asked him to help. he'd spent only a couple of christmases with bruce before...

before everything.

even then he'd never dared touch the tree as alfred threaded each new shiny bauble and hung it upon the branches of the great tree; he even shied away when bruce had offered him to place the angel ornament right at the top.

christmas trees were unknown to jason as a child. why start then? why start now?

but one glance into those eager eyes of yours and jason finds him saying yes before he can even register the question.

with a grin, you thrust a box of christmas tree decorations into his arms and leave him to his knitting to go brew some hot cocoa — because what's christmas decorating without warming up a bit?

you've already set up your tree in the corner of your lounge, but evidently left it alone, as if you'd been planning to get jason to help from the moment you'd bust it out of its box in one of your cupboards.

your footsteps recede and jason peers uncertainly down into the box that's been forced upon him. through the transparent plastic he can see twinkly tinsel pressed up against it like a child staring into an aquarium tank; a few smaller boxes are frayed at the edges, but contain baubles as advertised on the packaging.

uncertainly, he lowers himself to his knees before the tree and sets the box on the floor beside him. he peels open the lid, fingers finding the strange texture of the tinsel.

it's ticklish against his skin, and a lot more flimsy than he'd expected as he takes it out. jason weighs it on his hand for a moment, looking down at its silver shine and up at the undressed christmas tree. where do you even start?

you return a few moments later with one steaming mug, holding it by the handle. "how are you getting along?" you hum, placing the cocoa on the coffee table behind jason. "i just need to get mine and i can come help."

marshmallows on your mind, you turn to leave, but jason's voice pulls you back.

"uh— how do i actually do this?"

teeth nipping at the gum of your cheek, you freeze, eyes raking over the sight of a helpless jason kneeling at your tree. you knew jason had never done anything to ever really embrace the christmas spirit, but shouldn't it be easy?

that's what you'd expected, anyhow.

forgetting about your hot cocoa in the kitchen, you join jason down on the floor and take one of his hands in yours, fingers brushing against the tickly plastic of the tinsel.

"here, i'll hold this, and you go wrap it around the tree until you run out," and you take that end of the tinsel, encouraging him to stand.

he starts slowly, as if he's worried to ruin the tree, although there's nothing notable about it yet, but he rounds the tree once and passes behind you, holding the silver tinsel over your head as he hangs it loosely along the branches.

once he's run out of line, you hook your end on a lower branch and stand back to take it in.

when you glance up at jason, his expression is complex — he has a small smile, like maybe he's beginning to enjoy himself, but his eyes seem cloudy, the smile not reaching them. turning back to the tree, you grin and sling an arm round jason's waist, which seems to pull him from whatever thoughts he's got going on.

"you're a natural!" you smile, giving his side a squeeze, and he flinches sheepishly — he's a little ticklish there — but, just as soon as you've bugged him, you pull away. "okay, i can hear my hot chocolate calling my name from the kitchen; can you get started on the ornaments?"

jason looks back down into the box and gives a hum, leaning down again.

as you disappear into the kitchen once more, jason unveils a box of shiny baubles from beneath more tinsel and beads. he's unsure whether to add the beads or any of the tinsel, so he ignores it for now, and is careful to open the bauble packaging so as to avoid damaging it any more.

they're cold in his hand is he takes them out one by one, gingerly tucking them upon branch upon branch.

by the time you return, the green tree is lined with silver and dotted with rich, metallic reds and blues and golds, and the ornament box is three-quarters empty.

his cocoa has sunk considerably in his cup, and you're glad he's touched it.

with a careful sip, you place your own fuller mug beside his, and reach down to grab a pink bauble from its pack.

jason's hanging an orange one higher up the tree, amongst the silver hairs of the tinsel. sliding up beside him so your shoulders brush against one another, you hook your bauble on the branch beside his.

"you know, i think i'm not half bad," he speaks through the corner of his mouth, smile shy but tone proud.

your fingers flick a gold ornament and it bounces, brushing against the tree's needles. "i'm surprised you've never decorated a tree before now!" you return happily, nudging him. "you've made it look beautiful."

smile remaining upon his lips, he edges away to take his mug in his grip and raise it to his lips. as he pulls it away, he gives a satisfied sigh, one hand upon hip. "i could get used to doing this every year."

deep beyond your ribs, your heart swells, and you hope he means with you every year.

once you feel your cheeks cool down and you're able to poorly bite back your smile, you take a few steps back and rejoin jason's side.

the tree looks perfect, really.

oh! but wait—

"we're missing something!" you gasp, falling to your knees with a clunk.

you dig through your decorations box, strewing ribbons and beads along the floor, until you find it.

by the time you turn back to him, jason's forehead is creased and the distress from your knees hitting the ground is still evident, but you're none the wiser and his expression seems to relax.

"what are we missing?" jason urges with a curious shake of his head.

that's when you revealed what you were hiding behind your back.

in the palms of your two hands sat a delicate silver-dressed angel; a doll you've had for god knows how long. but jason can only stare at it, the mug slowly lowering from his mouth, until he carefully replaces it on the coffee table.

"what— what's this?" he asks, though something cracks in his voice that makes you think he certainly has an idea.

"angel," you hum, nudging toward the tree you've both decorated, "for the top of the tree."

his hands are shaky as he reaches out for it.

when the tips of his fingers finally brush against the silk of her skirt, his eyebrows twitch and the line of his mouth thins. jason can barely bring himself to meet your eyes, but he surely does it, as much as he wants to hide away.

"we can do it together if you'd like," you offer. jason nods without another moment to spare.

so you take one side of the angel, keeping your soft gaze upon him as you lead the steps towards the tree.

although you have to stretch, the two of you lift the angel ornament up to the top, and set her upon the tallest branch by her skirt.

when you pull away, jason lingers, his eyes still set on the silver angel, and you brush your fingers along his shoulder blade, soft beneath his hoodie.

"hey," you hum, and he turns. "you okay?"

although trembling, his lips curl up, and he nods. "yeah," but his voice crackles, "just peachy."