#in between cooking but it was written!

[overnightheartbeats]

One nod and she confirmed, though she did her best to keep her smile. She didn’t want to provide a sob story so early in their meeting . “Yep, a first. Well, yes and no. I don't think anyone's ever actively cheered for me to lose." At least, as far as she knew. But, the feeling was there. It was something you could sense, and she sensed it sometimes from certain people. "I guess now, maybe Jenny. She's been a good friend, so I think she might cheer for me to win." Then again, all assumptions from her. Any trace of sadness in her eyes from the earlier conversation dissipated when he answered. Laurel perked up and her grin was impossible to hide. "You have a sweet tooth? Ooh, good to know. Maybe even two donuts? Wow, I'm a lucky girl." She glanced over at him, waiting in anticipation to see if he played along. How far were they going? Would one of them abruptly stop? Laurel wasn't too sure. She was convinced she'd clown further, would he? She didn't know him that well, after all. "You seem to know a lot about soft centers. The question is, can you back up these claims?" Okay, at the diner, she said she wasn't making a move. But, now Laurel wasn't certain. "If it ends with mmm, that's a pretty successful time."

She tilted her head, providing him her full, undivided attention. "Oh, I see. Yeah, those are not great. I try to keep away from those." Laurel had pushed those thoughts deep, deep down a long time ago, for her own sanity. Wondering whether someone really loved you was a sure way to go insane, and she had reached that brink with her mother. "I did mean more the kind of intrusive thoughts that can mean two things - memorable fun or reckless trouble. But, the other ones, yeah no no. There's only so many times we can be knocked on our ass."

"I'll note you down for the rebellion" she confirmed with a smile, quickly adopting his term. "Am I already being a bad influence on you?" Truthfully, having him join in on her shenanigans thrilled her. Two conversations in and he was matching her energy so well, it was the most intrigued she'd ever been. Beyond matching energy though, Laurel just really enjoyed sayin the silliest things that made him laugh. One comment out, and she was already thinking of the next thing that could cause a laugh to tumble out of his lips. "Well, if you hate it, then you'll be honest and tell me. You won't offend me, don't worry." But, Laurel couldn't leave him hanging. It seemed messed up. "But, for the record, I am a fan."

It hadn't hit her until they were exiting the saddle, and the cool night breeze hit her face. But, she was bummed out to leave. The night wasn't over yet, and she was already declaring this one of the best evenings in a long while. A high she'd be missing once they went their separate ways. "Everything really is pointing to these donuts today. Oh nice, so we can walk home together! That's one way to put it, yeah fair. I think I need a roommate, I talk too much. Need someone around, it'd be too lonely to live by myself. I do have one roommate, Jenny actually. I don't know if you met her. She was my matching half at the party, the angel to my devil and all that. Do you talk to your floor mates at least?"

"A first? Really?" Eli laughed. "That's the spirit. We're well on our way to have a good time. Back to that the win comment. Has no one ever wanted you to win? Safe to assume everyone has just wanted you to lose. That sucks." he muttered thinking that was no way to live life. "I'd join you for a donut. Maybe even two. I'm a sucker for those sugary treats." An eyebrow raised at her playing along and smirked. "Oh it's fun. Can't see it being anything other than fun. Soft center makes you go mmmm."

Eli could tell that struck a cord. "I don't think all intrusive thoughts are bad but some do knock you on your ass. Give you more doubt than relief. You get into the awful territories of does anyone really love you or are they just pretending." Tsking he shook his head. "Those are what makes it suck."

He chuckled finding this topic wildly entertaining. "Count me in for the rebellion." The type of shenanigans that they could possibly get into was new territory for him. Not that he'd ever take advantage of an opportunity but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy making her cheeks flush with that color that should be a crime. 'What if I hate it? At least tell me if you're a fan. I don't want to offend. Then I'll choose my words wisely."

Holding her hand as they went back to their seats to grab their things. He let out a soft sigh as he slung the bag over his shoulder. "Lucky the donut shop is on our way back to the dorms. Yeah," he nodded. "I do live on campus. One perk is not having a roommate. Feels less like I need to be on all the time for that person. Do you have a roommate?"

[saystrinity]

thinkin abt charlie’s japan trip and the whole time difference thing (17 hours between la and japan what!!!!!) sooo here’s a little fic abt it

contains: use of y/n, kinda fem!reader (reference to being a wife), oops! (almost) all dialogue

✶⋆. charlie slimecicle: can i call you tonight? ⋆꙳

even for the earliest hours of the morning, inching towards sunrise, la traffic never fails to be incessant. a clashing chorus of revving engines and the occassional blaring horn stream into your bedroom from the open window, which is doing nothing but welcoming in even more of the suffocating humidity from outside.

you’re starfished on your bed, an overheating mess atop your bundle of sheets. the line only trills twice before charlie’s picking up.

“hello?” “charlie, why are you on your phone?” “..because you called me.”

“my fan died. it’s hot.” “well, i’m a couple thousand miles away. can’t fix it.”

“selfish. ..i can’t sleep.”

“because of the fan?” “uh, yeah. talk at me.”

“saying i’ll bore you to sleep?” “saying you’re my entertainment for the night. talk, talking monkey, talk!”

“what do you want to hear, ringmaster?” “tell me about japan. are you having a good time?”

“yeah, yeah, it’s really fun. tom, schlatt and trevor are really enjoying themselves.” “good, good.. when are you home?”

“aw, missing your monkey?” “the circus just isn’t the same without you.”

“five day trip, got here monday, so.. three days.” “i feel like a forlorn housewife, awaiting my husband’s return from this terrible war.”

“the terrible war of.. a boy’s trip?” “mhm.”

“you wish you were my wife.” “shut up, monkey. go enjoy yourself now.”

“bored you enough?” “positively yawning. thanks.”

“alright. goodnight, y/n.” ”night, char.. love you.” ”love you more, angel.”

you let the words sit comfortably on the line for a few more blissful seconds before hanging up.

now, even with the seemingly endless roving sound of la’s burgeoning morning, charlie’s soft words were enough to soothe your sleepless soul, and you’re drifting off within minutes, internally scratching off the days left until his return.

[tojisun]

i havent written angst in a while :<

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: Emmet and Akari ride the Rondez-View. Ingo cooks dinner for his family.

The end!

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

me from last week had no business writing a line this good:

God makes men in his image and those men know violence like an oath, a birthright.

PARDON

[lululeighsworld]

fandom WIP guessing game: scar

ME TRAWLING THROUGH MY WIP DOCUMENTS FOR SOMETHING NEW.......

Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game

oop i found one in the sandwich fic that i haven't worked on since march:

“Worlds summoned from be damned, we’ve made clear our goals align. If such is the established truth, would it not mean we are the same in your eyes? That what is his—” he drags them closer against him, and now they can feel his breath upon their lips, can nearly reach out and caress his scar with their own, “—is mine?”

[sollucets]

could you maybe write something where akk calls aye his home?

i absolutely can do that, nonny, thank u for asking! have a little bit (1.5k. of course.) of long-distance akkaye :') loosely related to the last prompt but fine to read without it

💜

“Akk, are you sleeping?” 

Aye’s voice is tinny, the noises of a subway station behind him just the right side of too-loud through Akk’s phone speakers to catch his slow-moving attention. His headphones must have slipped out; he doesn’t remember it happening. 

“No,” he answers, like a liar, and pushes himself upright on his dorm bed with some effort.

He’d given up on holding his head up to look at the screen part way through Aye talking about one of the other international students he works with and her hopeless crush on a Thai grad student senior of theirs that Aye is 100% sure is taken, and all of the accompanying drama. “You think P’Win has a partner already.” 

“That’s the last thing you heard?” Aye asks, pouting a little on the tiny screen under his big blue scarf. His cheeks are pink. It’s really, really cute. Someone passes behind him; Akk thinks he hears the edges of a robotic voice making an announcement. “I don’t just think so, I know so, and I was telling you all the evidence.”

“Do you have a conspiracy board for this too, or am I still special?”

Aye says something extremely inappropriate for a public place in response, but he says it in Thai, so he’s probably safe. Akk still opens his mouth to scold him on principle, but he’s caught by a yawn before he can say anything, jaw cracking unpleasantly. 

Aye’s expression melts from put-upon irritation to fondness so quickly it’s impressive. “You don’t have to stay up so late for me,” he says. “Don’t you have class in the morning? At nine, right?” 

“Don’t remind me,” grumbles Akk with a sigh, but he swings his legs over the side of the bed, picks up his phone sans headphones, and heads into the bathroom barefoot. “It’s not really so late. And besides, you’d pout if I went to bed without calling. It’s our day.”

Their day, Thursday specifically, had been the day that worked best with both their busy schedules and the six-hour time difference for most of the first semester of their time apart. They’ve missed only once, during Akk’s midterms, and Aye had texted no less than thirty times that day, all test-taking memes and supportive emojis. Now, though, Aye’s classes combined with his new work in his university's tutoring center run into the London evening; it’s midnight in Chiang Mai. 

Aye says something in response, but whatever it is is drowned out by the noise of a rush of people behind him, all probably getting off of a train. 

“What?” asks Akk, propping his phone against the bathroom mirror and grabbing his toothbrush. 

“If it’s really not that late, then why are you falling asleep while I’m talking, hm? Am I so boring to you?” 

Akk rolls his eyes, squeezing out a little toothpaste, and says, “Maybe I just didn’t want to hear you go on and on about P’Win anymore, hm?” 

As expected, Aye zeroes in on that immediately. “Aww, is my baby jealous?”

Akk sticks his toothbrush in his mouth to avoid answering and weathers the ensuing and expected storm of teasing very bravely, if he does say so himself. He lets the ease of falling into a familiar dynamic soothe the very slight sting, and he listens patiently without showing even a hint of a smile on his face at how pleased Aye looks to have ‘won’ that admission. 

“And he’s almost as handsome as me,” Aye is saying, in his most annoying tone of voice, when suddenly he seems to stutter for a moment, his expression freezing in place on his face. It’s odd enough that Akk makes a questioning noise through his mouthful of toothpaste. 

“Akk…” Aye starts. He looks conflicted now, mouth turning down even as he speaks. “You’re not — really, though, right?”

Akk blinks. Then spits. Then says, “No,” even though it’s not 100% true.

His face must show it, because Aye’s frown droops even further and he says, clearly enunciated, “It’s not like that. You know I’m just—”

“Teasing,” Akk interrupts, having mercy on him. “I know. Aye, no, you’re fine. I don’t actually think you’re serious, or you wouldn't have spent the last half hour explaining why P’Win is absolutely definitely taken anyway.” And you wouldn’t usually worry that I did, Akk thinks, so why?

Usually, if he thinks he’s gone too far, Aye just drapes himself over Akk like a particularly affectionate cat, no matter what he’s doing. He kisses his way back to forgiveness, he brings Akk dinner or looks over his homework or buys him stupid, cute little charms to put on his phone keychain, and Akk always lets him even and especially if he isn’t actually mad, and — he can’t do any of that, six hours and half the world away. Oh. This is that communication thing they’re supposed to be better at by now. 

Aye is still staring at him with giant, horrible pleading eyes, because he doesn’t believe him, and he shouldn’t because Akk is still sort of lying. 

Akk sighs. “I’m jealous of anyone who gets to see you all the time.” He can’t keep looking at Aye, his gaze drifting towards the edge of the bathroom counter. “Just a little. That’s all it is. I’m— glad you have Thai friends, actually. You seemed a bit homesick lately. I think it’s cheering you up.” 

It’s silent for a little too long, and Akk finally looks up to make sure nothing’s happened to the connection and finds Aye with one hand over his mouth, eyes still huge but soft around the edges now. 

“What,” he mumbles. 

“My boyfriend is the sweetest,” Aye says, as he’d feared he would, all earnest and sincere and completely without the teasing edge, which makes it worse. 

Akk jerks his head away again, in a motion he couldn’t control if he wanted to. He puts his toothbrush into the cup with more force than is strictly necessary. “It’s just the truth, isn’t it?” 

“Phi reheated omelets on his break the other day and I thought I was gonna cry for a minute,” Aye tells him, laughing an embarrassed little laugh. “They’re not right here. They’re all undercooked and flavorless.”

“Did you get to have any?” asks Akk, imagining Aye looking (up, statistically) at this mysterious P’Win with his awful begging eyes.

“I wouldn't steal my senior’s lunch.”

Akk can’t help the little satisfied twitch of his mouth at that scandalized tone. Aye steals Akk’s lunch all the time. “Too bad. I get it a little, though. I really miss the way my mom prepares things.” 

Chiang Mai is easily 14 hours of travel from his house, more if you count having to switch trains, and he’s only been back once. He dutifully calls his parents every Sunday, but they don’t really have good enough reception there for regular video calls. 

Aye makes a sympathetic noise, then glances at something up and to the right of the camera. He frowns. “Baby, I have to go soon.” 

“‘Kay,” answers Akk, raising a hand to cover a sudden yawn. 

“Don’t worry about me too much,” Aye says, smiling at the screen all little and v-shaped. “I’m okay. I’ll go to a market and get my own ingredients and make my own omelet, and I’ll text you all the time, and I’ll call my mom twice so she can pretend I’m her favorite over you. Don’t you get too homesick either, okay?”

“Even if—“ Akk starts, hesitates, then forges on. He can say these things; he’s worked to say these things. “Even if I visit,” he tells Aye’s tiny, beloved face, miles and miles away and here in his dorm bathroom, “I’ll still be homesick until you come back. You’re my home.” 

Aye stares at him, mouth open for a minute, then demands, “Pick up your phone.”

“What?”

“Just do it. Pick up your phone.”

Slowly and distrustfully, Akk takes his phone off the counter and holds it closer to his face. “Wha—“

Aye’s screen moves suddenly closer and then goes dark, the sound weird and muffled. “Hug me,” he says, just barely audible. 

Akk laughs a little, breathless and pointlessly fond. What must it look like, to those people in the subway station? Alone in his own room, though, he doesn’t hesitate to pull his phone to his chest, right over his heart. 

After a moment, though, he gives in to the temptation to peek and finds the screen still dark. “Aye.”

The station blurs into view again behind an Aye who looks notably pinker than before, a rush of people just like the last one passing behind again. “You’re so — I love you so much,” Aye tells him, sounding helpless, “and I miss you. It’s stupid that term break is still so far away.”

“Aye,” says Akk again, unable to stop grinning if he’d actively tried. “Don’t be late for your train.”

“They’re always late for me,” grumbles Aye, but he sighs and says, “Go to bed, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

“Love you too,” Akk tells him, just before hanging up so he doesn’t have to deal with whatever new heart-squeezing thing Aye’s face is going to do at that. 

Just before he actually gets into bed, quiet in the sudden silence of his empty dorm, his phone lights up with a text: "❤️❤️❤️❤️"

And far away, in a subway car in England, Aye barely represses a little noise of delight to receive “❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️” in return. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

arthur morgan is so eldest daughter coded GOD

[aromanticgarbage]

The thing about smithereens is that if u go into it expecting a ballads 2 or nectar level of lore and creativity.... you will be disappointed. Its giving a little burnout, its shorter, simpler, less mvs, less writing and producing credits for the man himself. But also it has glimpse of us, die for u, night rider and yukon in it so its still a w album in my book.

[gorbo-longstocking]

that epic moment when youre actively being stalked but also you couldnt give less of a shit

[theclosetedskeleton]

off topic WHAT was all of the hype for victorious a decent time ago

[ghostlywhiskey]

pen pal simon - original post

every day after work, you found yourself sat at your desk attempting to write back a response to the soldier who referred to himself as ‘ghost’. crumpled up stationary surrounded your desk space, along with different types of pens as you obsessed over your handwriting. if one letter of your penmanship looked wrong, the paper would become another ball added to the collection of half written letters that contained slightly different, if not the same, wording in response to the thank you letter from ghost.

the simple questions he asked to get to know you suddenly felt like the hardest questions to answer, as if you were being graded on the facts about yourself. was he going to find your hobbies boring? maybe your hobbies were boring the more you read your response. the easiest question to answer was regarding how long you had been doing the care packages - a few years since one of your friends had a significant other that joined the military. stories often mixed with people who received packages and cards from family members frequently, but the ones where some received little to none are the ones that made you upset. so, you had decided to explain that to ghost and it was probably the easiest response of them all to write out. not single moment did the pen leave the paper for you to collect your thoughts or how to word your answer.

but then, you continued to answer the questions he asked you, and in return you asked him similar or different ones. again, you weren’t positive he would reply this time around, but you figured you’d still return the gesture of asking him questions as well. and when you finished writing it all, reading through it god only knows how many times for errors, you finally slipped it into an envelope. this time, no ‘treats’ were included, instead you had opted to ask him if he had any favorites, that way if he did end up writing you back then you could buy him what he preferred.

and after you mailed out the letter, you pushed the thought of it to the side to try and forget about it. but, you couldn’t deny every time you arrived home and checked the mail you were secretly hoping there was a response. but then a few weeks went by and there really was no response waiting mixed in with your other mail.

then after almost two months, after a shit day at work, you didn’t even think twice as you grabbed the mail and walked into your home. going through the motions of your routine - showering, cooking dinner and anything else you had to take care of, you finally sat at the counter towards the end of the night to sort through the mail. a small card was tucked between a bunch of other trash mail, your eyes immediately recognizing the handwriting. quickly, you opened up the envelope and sure enough, that same notebook paper was tucked into it, this time three pieces of paper unfolded in your hands. 

..it’s been quite hectic over where i’m currently at, so sorry for the lack of my responding…

...i’m a bit upset of the lack of treats, it definitely beats what we have to eat sometimes.

the reason you do the packages is quite sweet. is your friends’ partner still alive? you use the past tense when you speak of them. sorry if that is rude to ask.

you read every word of the letter, not once, but twice. and he didn’t just read your response to his, he took notice of the small details. you didn’t even realize you had used the past tense, but he wasn’t wrong in his assumption either when he thought they might have passed. it was like reading a full blown conversation he had to himself in his head; the way before or after some sentences, he would write out interjections. some sentences were followed by parentheses where he made his own little comment as well about what he had just written.

again, i hope you forgive my delayed response. hope it doesn’t stop you from writing back. don’t always have the time, but promise i’ll get back to you. maybe in your next letter you can send me a picture of yourself, i think it would be nice to put a face to the name that signs off on these. i can’t do the same, but i’ll find a way to make up for that. ‘til the next letter, ghost.

and while you didn’t get started writing your response that night, you did make your way to your room with a smile on your face. excitement was already brewing about what you would say in your response and the next anticipated response he would give back, even if he did take a bit to respond.

[yieldtotemptation]

DEALS ft. Miyeon

... is this thing on?

written as a very late addition to @i-am-lifeform24's project.

miyeon x male reader smut

2k words

"Now that you're done with that," Miyeon starts, her voice firm, confident. The voice of someone used to giving you orders. "Take off your clothes."

The command hangs in the air between the two of you, and suddenly you’re under a microscope—but where most people would squirm, you stand tall.

"Okay."

"Okay?" If she was expecting a challenge, she wasn't going to find one here. After all this time, you know what she's looking for—what she expects from you—someone that can match her, that can meet her on her level. "No questions?"

"That is the deal," you answer matter-of-factly, your t-shirt already half-way over your head. "Money for my time, anything goes."

"Anything," she echoes, her usual stone-cold expression betrayed by a hint of excitement playing in her eyes, somewhat surprised that she managed to push the terms of a contract once made between two teenagers who didn't know any better into new territory.

Anything used to just mean silly tasks—cooking, cleaning, doing all the things that would absolutely not be suitable for her to do—but all just being an excuse for keeping Miyeon company.

That was until now.

Still, you don't have time to think about what’s changed between you fixing her sink and her watching you take off your pants—she’s decided that now is as appropriate an occasion as any to test your limits, and you’ve never been known not to oblige her.

It's only when you're stepping out of your briefs that you catch it—that break in her facade, the slight blush that creeps up her cheeks, that indication that maybe Miyeon isn't so far above the rest of Earth's mortals as she would like you to think.

"Having trouble finding somewhere to look?" You can feel her eyes following you, scanning up and down your body as you fold your clothes neatly, placing them on a corner of the nearby couch.

"The opposite." Whatever crack you just saw in Miyeon's composure is gone as quick as it arrived, and she's all business again, walking over to you, heels that let her meet your eyes clicking against the cold living room floor. "I don't have anywhere I don't want to look."

It's no secret that you feel the same—she's an absolute work of art. It's in the sway of her hips, the curve of her waist, the swell of her lovely, petite breasts under her sheer, near see-through shirt. But you're not here to just admire her. You're here to serve, to satisfy, to be of use.

She stops, close enough that her exhales become your inhales, close enough that the smell of whatever she's wearing—something smoky, something ludicrously expensive—drives you wild.

Close enough that when her eyes alone make you twitch, she feels it brush against her waist.

"Look at me."

Another demand obeyed—all part of the deal.

Maybe it's the light, maybe it's the proximity—her eyes are darker than you remember, a deep brown that would swallow you whole, if only you'd let them.

"Hands," she says next, and she's taking hold of your wrists, pulling them to her, to her body—her unfathomably-tight waist—squeezing down on your fingers to make sure she's locked in your grip. "Now kiss m-"

You're jumping the gun, pulling her closer to you, pulling her lips into yours, warming your tongue with hers, tasting sweetness, tasting her eagerness—or more correctly, her neediness.

She’s opening the door a little, letting you discover a part of her that she's been hiding from you, truly meeting her for the first time—her left hand finding the nape of your neck, her right reaching down below, wrapping fingers around you, holding you against her.

"Mmmph..." She's moaning into you now, her hands are on the move, feeling, stroking—soft, delicate fingers taking your full measure, all the way from the tip... all the way to the base.

It’s making you grow bigger for her, too big for her dainty grip, but she squeezes back against you, gliding her hand up and down, up and down, again and again—all for her pleasure, showing you that no matter how good she's making you feel, it's making her feel better.

That’s when you break the rules for the first time, taking the initiative and running your hands up her back to the lift up her shirt, wanting to catch just a glimpse of more of her flawless, porcelain-white skin. Before you can boldly make your move, she's pushing back against your chest with her free hand, releasing your lips and leaving you with a groan, halting you in your tracks.

"No," she whispers, her eyes darkening with something that isn't quite anger, but is definitely a warning. "Not yet."

A gulp and a nod is all you have for her in response, but it's enough to satisfy her—enough to return her lips to your body, to continue her excruciatingly delightful movements over your shaft.

Her breath is hot, heavy, as she plants kisses on your neck, your collarbone—tracing lines down your chest with her tongue, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. Miyeon's eyes lock onto yours as she continues her expedition, watching you watch her work—watch her make you unravel.

Every movement is intentional—the lower her lips get, the slower her strokes, each more deliberate, each one a silent experiment of how much you can bear.

She takes her time, until at last, finally, she's on her knees before you—no longer stroking, no longer moving—just breathing on you, staring at you, frozen in fascination at your length—at what she's done to you.

And then she licks her perfect, pretty, pink lips.

"Miyeon-" is all you can muster, but it’s too late—she's taking you in—inhaling you—warm—fucking hot—lips wrapping around you, forcing you to hold your breath as she brings you deeper, deeper into her throat.

You had expected teasing, torture even—but not this—not her tongue sliding under your shaft, not her moans around your cock, not her eyes watering as she breathes you in, making a mess of you until her nose has met your chest and your tip has met the back of her throat.

It takes all your strength to keep your knees from buckling as she keeps you there, keeps you down her throat, testing herself against you. The pleasure is overwhelming, intense, but for the two of you it's the power play—she's the one looking up at you, her makeup smudged, eyeliner a disaster—yet she's in complete and total control, feeling your body tighten from just a flick of her tongue, feeling you get closer and closer to the edge.

"Gah-" she rises back up off you, unsheathing your cock from her throat, a glob of her spit following behind her, a glistening bridge from her lips to your tip. She's grinning wildly now, so fucking pleased with herself, so turned on by having conquered you—having conquered your cock. "I did it."

But you don't get to recover—how silly of you to think she would let you—and her lips are back on you, lightning shooting up your spine as she takes in half of you, before releasing—again and again and again.

She's bobbing up and down, putting on a show for you—letting you see how her cheeks hollow, how her lips take you in, how you make her eyes water and how her tongue does it’s best to break you—a masterful dance that somehow makes you feel both worshiped and utterly dominated.

"Mmmmm..." A flick of her tongue against your tip lets you know that she's tasting you, tasting the warm pre-cum leaking past her lips. "I fucking knew it," she murmurs, her voice low, but loud enough for you to hear. "Knew that you would be this big—knew that I could take whatever you had."

"God, Miyeon—" you eke out a groan as she starts to stroke you again, keeping up the pace, keeping up the pleasure.

"Knew that you would taste this good—knew that it would feel this fucking good in my throat."

She doesn't wait for an answer—doesn't need one—her tongue is already back on you, painting your cock with her saliva, up and down, around and around.

It's her moans around you—she's loving this, loving doing this to you—so much so that she doesn't even mind it when you thread your fingers through her hair, pulling on her more forcefully than you intended, desperately pushing more of yourself into her. She takes it, welcomes it, confident that if it came down to it, she would be the last one standing.

You still try—stopping her head still and start to move—start to pound away. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't pull away, not even when you pick up speed, not even when her moans get muffled and you're hitting the back of her mouth, not even when you're the one setting the pace and burying your cock down her hot, tight throat.

It's in her eyes—the challenge, the suggestion—use me, break me if you can—cum—give it to me.

Her hands are on your hips, beckoning you, pushing you to go faster, to fuck her face harder—encouraging you, egging you on. And so you do—you give in to the instinct that's been burning in your veins since she first made you strip for her—you fuck her mouth, her throat, ruin that gorgeous, fucking irresistible face as she struggles to keep up.

Tears are streaming down her eyes now, her breaths coming in ragged gasps around you, but she never looks away—her gaze holding yours, telling you that she's okay, that she wants this—that she can take this.

You shouldn't be fucking her face this hard—it shouldn't be possible to—but you keep going, groaning—"Miyeon", "fuck", "God"—and just when you're about to slip, just when you're about to completely fall apart in her mouth, she forces herself off you, seizing back control and holding you at your base, aiming directly at her picture-perfect visage.

"Cum for me," she squeezes you, wringing you, wanting you. "Do it."

You throb, you explode, you cum, you obey—because that's what she’s asking of you.

It takes every effort to keep your eyes open—to see Miyeon—as you feel the orgasm ripping through your body, the heat spilling from you and onto her face, her chin, her neck—onto a carefully manicured eyebrow, and an undeniably cute dimple. Your cum showers her, paints her, masking her with your release.

And Miyeon takes it, takes all of it, eagerly, smiling up at you through the mess, poking out a tongue to taste as much of you as she can, despite it still overflowing and dribbling down the corners of her mouth.

You shake, you want to collapse, but Miyeon keeps her hold on you, looking up at you like you're her fucking property—and maybe in this moment, you are. Her eyes are glazed over, her cheeks are flushed, and through the cum you can see that devastating smile as she swallows and drinks what remains of you down.

"So fucking good," she whispers, her hand still moving, still stroking you, placing soft, sweet kisses on your exhausted cock, still sending those tingles of pleasure shooting through you. "I knew you would be amazing."

"Fuck, Miyeon."

But she's already rising, on her feet and looking at you expectantly, wiping the excess from her chin with the back of her hand. "I want more," she states. It’s simple. It’s a command. "Take me to the bedroom."

And she's already walking away, peeling off her clothes, soft fabric meeting the floor as you catch a sight of the lovely slope of her back, the perfect curve of her ass—her body bared before you, calling for you to take it.

“Come on,” she calls out to you, “we’re just getting started.”

You stumble forward, following after her—obeying her wishes.

Because why wouldn't you?

That was your deal.

---

A/N: thanks again to @i-am-lifeform24 for actually managing to get me to finish something. what a legend.

[dearsnow]

12:29 AM

- your normally sober husband comes home drunk out of his mind after a party, and you can’t say that he’s any less sweet. (robert “bob” floyd x wife!reader, fluff, honestly one of the cutest things i’ve ever written, ⚠️ obviously heavy themes of alcohol and being drunk, sexual innuendos but nothing graphic)

word count: 1,502

a/n - i haven’t written a fic with a timestamp as the title in… (checks old blog) over three years?!? in any case, i hope you guys like drunk!bobby as much as i do <3 he’s definitely an emotional/clingy drunk imo.

It’s not often that your husband stays out late, and it’s not often that he doesn’t text you while he’s out, but you trust him. He’s not the type to get blackout drunk or come home stumbling through the doorframe. Robert Floyd is a clearheaded and strong man.

Well, he looks neither right now, as he’s supported by Jake and Javy’s arms, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose and a dopey smile brightening his face. Jake looks at you apologetically— as apologetic as he can get for a situation that’s likely his fault. “Sorry, hun.” He huffs, shifting around Bob’s weight. “There were a few too many fruity drinks ordered, and I guess he didn’t realize they were full of alcohol.”

“You guess?” You ask, rubbing the space between your eyebrows with your fingers. The two more sober men lead Bob into your bedroom, half-dragging him. They lay him down on your shared bed with a softened thump that has him groaning on top of the sheets. “I can’t believe you guys.”

Bob went out with the rest of the squad for some coworker’s promotion celebration, and he promised to come home perfectly sober, as always. He doesn’t even need to promise, if you’re being honest, because that’s just how he is; the most levelheaded person in the room. He would stay until it was socially acceptable for an acquaintance to leave, then he would head home and help you cook dinner to your favorite old school tunes. You never expected to see him shitfaced at 12:29 AM.

Javy shakes his head as he steps around you, taking Jake for a clean escape. “We tried to warn him. I hope he feels better in the morning, but until then, we’re gonna have to leave him with you.”

You sigh, eyebrows just as pinched as they were before. For the first time ever, you’re scared that Bob is going to die in his sleep, and the thought frustrates you to no end. “Thanks. It’s so great that he’s drunk out of his mind, but I have to give you credit for getting him here in one piece.” Your tone is sarcastic enough to get the two men cringing in shame, but you also know that without them, he might still be at that party.

Jake pats you on the shoulder. “Good luck, soldier. You’ll need it.”

With that, Javy and Jake walk out of your bedroom, past your living room, and out of your house like they couldn’t wait to leave. As you hear them close the door, you look down at your husband.

He’s still conscious, thankfully. His eyes are slightly unfocused, he’s blushing like a madman, and he’s groaning lightly, but he’s not completely gone yet. You brush the damp hair away from his forehead and he whines just a bit.

“Wife.”

You quirk your eyebrow in confusion. “Yes?”

“I… have a wife. Y’ can’t touch me like that.” He mumbles. It feels like he’s looking past you. Despite everything, you feel like laughing.

You adjust his glasses on his face and lean over him a little more, fully in his field of vision. “I am your wife.”

His eyes widen like he’s seeing you for the first time, and he smiles crookedly. He tries to sit up, but only manages to prop himself up on one arm as he takes in the sight of your face. “S’ pretty. You’re really my wife? My girl?” In combination with the slurred words of someone down in the cups, the slight southern accent he took so much time to push away is coming back as he speaks to you.

“Yes.” You confirm, kissing him on the cheek. He somehow smiles even wider and reaches out to touch the apples of your cheeks.

“Love you. I missed you.” He mumbles. “Spent that whole party wonderin’ when I could see you again.” He flops back down onto the springy mattress, throwing his arms up. He moves with the precision of a toddler, his limbs seemingly coated in lead. He almost smacks the glasses off his face as he motions to you with grabby hands.

“I missed you too, honey. Can we get you into your pajamas? I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans and a polo.” As you ask that question, his fingers are already attempting to pull the shirt off of his body. It doesn’t work very well, considering he’s still laying down, but you appreciate the effort. “Sit up, my love.”

He sits up, winking at you heavily. It’s more like a slow blink with how long it takes him to do it. “Can’t wait to get me naked?”

A laugh escapes your mouth, and you smother the rest of your giggles with the heel of your palm as you gaze at his slightly crestfallen face. He’s funny when drunk, apparently, even when he isn’t trying to be. It’s like seeing him completely unhinged with none of his usual, careful filters. “Sure. You need to be in some state of undress to get your pajamas on, anyways.”

His face falls into a slight pout as you help him unbutton the top of his polo and slide it up his chest. He seems to notice how your hands hesitate when meeting the warm, taut skin of his abs, and the pout fades instantly. “Like it?”

“I always do.” You hum. He does have a great body, one that you’ve found to be extraordinarily hot. Strong arms, tight muscles, and yet a gentleness in the way his hands hold yours. Right now, though, it’s a bit of a problem as you’re attempting to get his jeans off. He’s still sitting, and you think you could lift weights for ten years and not be able to pull them out from under him. “Can you stand, Bobby?”

“Gladly.” He sings. You help him stand, supporting a bit of his weight. He seems to find a little bit of his footing as his other arm presses into the wall, allowing the both of you to shimmy his pants down his legs and kick them to some unknown corner of the room.

You gather his neatly folded pajamas, a soft shirt and some plaid flannel pants, and help him put them on. Luckily for you, he’s been revitalized by your touch and is a little more helpful now. He’s still moving awkwardly and shifting around like he’s constantly trying to get his balance straightened out, but it’s better than nothing. It would be hell to get him to do anything other than dress, though, so you settle for just getting him in bed. His dental hygiene routine will have to wait.

You lay him back down after he’s dressed and pull the blankets up to his chin, kissing his forehead gently and tucking his glasses in your dresser drawer. You’re already ready for the night (the perks of thinking he would come home three hours ago), so you slip in bed next to him. He immediately pulls you into his arms, his body comfortingly warm. He’s always run just a little hot, which is amazing on cooler nights like this.

He sighs contentedly before moving to stare directly into your eyes. “Y’know,” he starts, “I can’t sleep without your arms ‘round me, and your legs ‘round me, and you breathing all sweet on my neck. ‘M up all night when I’m deployed, at first anyways. My carrier roommates hate it.”

You shift just enough as to where your body is clutching on to him as tight as possible, and he hums in relief. It’s like the little tension that he was holding dissipated entirely. “I’m sorry, baby. That must be hard.” You soothe.

“Payback gave me his pillow once so I could wrap it in my arms, but it didn’t help. He threatened to ‘come up there n’ cuddle me himself’ if I didn’t stop moving.” He scrunches his eyes closed at the memory. You do your best to suppress another bout of laughter, but he makes it even harder when he shivers like he isn’t covered in three layers of blankets and you.

“Did he ever follow through?” You ask, pressing your lips together to stop from smiling. Bob shakes his head.

“Thank god he didn’t.” He utters. You turn to shove your face into your pillow to muffle your expressions. He just keeps his eyes closed, completely unaware of the fact that you’re losing it next to him.

When you finally come up for air, he is drifting in and out of sleep. “Love ya. G’night.” He whispers. It’s so soft that you almost start laughing again.

“Good night, Bobby. Love you too.” You say, kissing his cheek. You click off the lamp on your bedside table and snuggle deeper into his grasp.

He’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. At least he’ll have his wife, breakfast in bed, and an aspirin to take care of him.

Taglist: @seitmai

[kenjioharashotspot]

Pictures and videos Kenji Sato has/took of you on his phone (fluff edition)

ib: @deadbydad-writes

The first video he took of you was when you were taking care of Emi while he went to the city for an interview and he caught you teaching her the "Baby Shark" choreo. You looked so cute, wearing your bubblegum pink, silk pyjamas to match Emi's pink scales.

The second video he took of you was when you went to an amusement park as a third date and he got you a live size teddy bear. Then, recorded a video of you crying as you hugged the giant teddy bear he got.

The first photo he took of you was you spent the night as his place for the first time and when he woke up, he couldn't resist, seeing you so beautiful, and he took a picture of you while you were sleeping in his jersey.

The second photo was sent to him, while Kenji was driving home from practice, late at night. It was a selfie of you holding his favorite food, yakisoba noodles and chicken gyozas. He loved it when you cooked for him.

The third video he took of you, happened to be while you were taking a bath, watching "Barbie as The Princess and The Pauper" and singing the iconic song "Written in your Heart". Oh, how he treasured you!

The third photo is a selfie he took with you, hugging you from behind while you were cooking and biting on your dusted red, plump cheek.

The fourth photo he took of you was when he went to check on Emi after she abruptly got quiet and saw you sleeping with her. Emi protecting you, hovering her claws over your body. Kenji could just melt everything he saw the photo.

The fourth video was took at your wedding, a slow dance shared between you two. You looked so angelic in your wedding dress, so mesmerizing. This video makes Kenji blush every time he watches it.

The fifth video he has on his phone is a compilation made by his fans of your laugh and smile while you're supporting him during his baseball games. That laugh of yours, so addictive to Kenji.

The fifth photo he has of you, was sent by you to Kenji, during his practice. It's a selfie of yours, happily crying and holding up a positive pregnancy test. It was the best news he could've ever ask for.

[m-neuvillette]

Star Rail Men and their phone background

Characters: Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Caelus, Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Luka, Moze, Mr Reca, Sunday, Welt Yang, Yanqing

Thank you March for taking the photos!

Authors note: fem reader, implied that you are also shorter than him. Also this is our first time ever writing so please be nice :)

Argenti

A photo of you braiding his hair. He is sitting in front of you with a little mirror in hand, laughing while you are super concentrated with doing his hair. After this he always requests for you to braid his hair!! now after this!!

Aventurine

A photo of you guys sitting at a table playing cards. You are giggling behind your cards thinking you’re going to win. He puts his hat on you, leans back and laughs and smiles at you. He then proceeds to win the round of cards, like always.

Blade

A photo of you sitting side by side smiling at each other. You are fixing and polishing up his sword. You look up to lightly chide him on his damaged sword to see that he is softly smiling at you. You tilt your head and smile back at him, while forgetting about his sword. Then when you come back to reality, you do have to lightly lecture him on taking proper care of his sword.

Boothill

A photo of him cornering you between him and the counter. Hands on each side of you, looking down at you giving a little smirk. You are blushing looking up at him while wearing his iconic hat (he thinks you look better in it anyways).

Caelus

A photo of you guys laughing and running away from a Lordly Trashcan. You guys were minding your one business chatting, when the one and only Lordly Trashcan came out of nowhere and spooked you guys. He quickly grabbed your hand and ran while dragging you along. You guys were laughing the entire time the Lordly Trashcan was chasing you. After the Lordly Trashcan stopped chasing you, you turned to him and said you guys were never allowed to walk by a trashcan again.

Dan Heng

A photo of you guys in front of the data bank. You are standing in front of him, while he is behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and your arms on top of his. His chin is resting on your shoulder while he is pointing and explaining something on the screen of the data bank. This is his favorite way to talk about stuff on the data bank.

Dr. Ratio

A photo of you two at a chalkboard. You are excitedly explaining the stuff written on the board while he has most of his focus on you with a soft smile on his face. He swears he’s listening to you and can recite what you said but he thinks you’re so cute when you’re explaining something that makes you happy!

Gallagher

A photo of you two at the bar together. He is behind the bar making you a drink while laughing, while you are propping your head up on your hand staring at him with nothing but loving eyes. He now only makes drinks if you’re there at the bar sitting in front of him.

Gepard

A photo of him with his face in your hand. He is in his office, overworking as usual, and when you walk in you march right over to his desk. You take his chin in your hand and tilt his head up and over to look at you while you scold him for overworking. Let’s just say when he visited Serval later that day she had to ask if he was sick because he was still bright red.

Jiaoqiu

(this was before he lost his sense of taste) It’s a photo of you two cooking. He has his tail and arm wrapped around your waist while you are having him taste test some of your food. You are smiling because he is showing that the food tastes really good. Then he makes a vow, when he cooks he is always going to have you by his side.

Jing Yuan

It’s a photo of you guys napping. He is laying on a couch with you on top of him, with a tight grip around your waist. Both of you guys have the softest of smiles on your faces. Whenever he wakes up before you he always makes sure to snap a quick photo of you sleeping on top of him.

Luka

A photo of you guys laughing together in the Boulder Town Fight Club. You jokingly hop in the ring after his match and declare that you are going to beat him. He looks at you with the biggest grin and you guys just start laughing together. Let’s just say there was no winner, you guys were too busy laughing that you got kicked out of the ring.

Moze

A photo of him whispering into your ear while he teaches you to throw a dagger. He is standing behind you with one hand on your waist and the other adjusting your hand placement on the dagger. He is whispering softly in your ear about the correct form while you smile softly up at him. Let’s just say you were not that good at it and Jiaoqiu and Feixiao were curious why most of Moze’s blades were damaged or lost.

Mr. Reca

A photo of him laughing at you while you are looking through his film camera. You wanted to help him shoot a scene in his current film and the camera is too high for you. You don’t know how to adjust it and you are on your tip toes squinting through the camera lens, trying to see out of it. He looks at what you are doing amused, and starts laughing fondly at you. When his film eventually came out, you were given some special credits to make up for him laughing at you.

Sunday

It’s a photo of you guys dancing. You guys were outside under the stars. He has a hand on your waist while the other one is holding with yours, while your other hand is resting on his shoulder. While you both just gaze into each other’s eyes. Now whenever Robin wants to sing a new song to him he brings you so you can dance to it together.

Welt Yang

A photo of you reading to him. You two are sitting down and you are in between his legs, back pressed up again his chest while his arms are wrapped around you and resting his head on your shoulder. Whenever you two want to read something now you always seek each other out to do this cuddle and reading session again.

Yanqing

A photo of you dressed up like him as a joke and taking his sword. You jumped up on the nearest bench to be taller than him, acting like you are going to fight him. Then he just looks up at you and bursts out laughing while you just giggle and smile down at him. Jing Yuan was there too and said you would beat him and Yanqing turned around and gaped at his mentor.

Everyone say thank you March!

Hope you enjoyed :)