#it makes me grip my head in distress but in a good way

[squatch-and-stretch]

Chapter 4

After eating, sleeping arrangements for the time are sorted out— Stanford and Fiddleford share the couch, heads on opposite armrests. Luckily, Stanford has always been the type to curl up, and the couch is long enough that Fiddleford’s feet only reach his chest even when he sprawls. Stanley sleeps on the floor, an arrangement Fiddleford only agreed to after he gathered up enough pillows and blankets to make a decent little nest for him.

The twins fall asleep quickly enough, but Fiddleford struggles to settle down against the noises of other living creatures in his space. Stanley snorts and mumbles softly in his sleep. He's curled up against the wall, near Stanford’s head. Fiddleford can hear him, but if there’s any words in his sleepy rambles, he can’t make them out.

He used to like it, falling asleep to Stanford mumbling equations at his desk, or to Emma-May’s quiet breathing. The sounds of Stanford pacing and ranting and bumping into the walls kept him up once, but in a way, his current restfulness unnerves him all the more. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Stanford to wake up with a wide grin and bright yellow eyes, to grab him and finish in Stanford’s body what he started in his own.

It’s quiet outside. It often is. The beasts here are dangerous, but not numerous. Occasionally Fiddleford will be roused from his sleep by some nocturnal monster, but more often than not, it’s just quiet. He misses crickets. He misses coyotes.

Suddenly, Stanford shifts, one leg kicking out at the backrest as he curls up tighter. Fiddleford sits up immediately, drawing his legs away from Stanford and staring at the hunched form of him in the dark. He’s shaking, little noises of distress spilling from his pursed lips.

Thoughts of Bill’s possession and the danger he might pose are discarded immediately. Stanford, for all that he’s always been bulkier than Fiddleford, looks impossibly small where he’s curled, twitching on the couch.

“Stanford,” Fiddleford whisper-shouts, leaning a bit closer. “Wake up, hun, come on.”

Stanford doesn’t react. His hand clenches against the back of the couch, pushing at it weakly.

“Hey, come on, up you get,” Fiddleford insists, reaching out to take Stanford’s shoulder.

Before he can reach, Stanford’s eye shoots open and a six-fingered grip takes his wrist firmly and twists. Fiddleford yelps, bracing a foot against Stanford’s leg as he scrambles to get away from his iron grip. Stanford follows his movement, sitting up like he’s being tugged along rather than consciously moving his own body.

He’s grinning, and even if it’s hard to make out the details of his eyes in the dim light, he knows they’re yellow, pupils slitted. From his eye, something dark runs down his cheek.

“Heya Specs! Good to see you again! Honestly, I’m surprised you’re alive!”

Fiddleford wants to retort back, say anything that would get that sickening grin off of Stanford’s face, but the words catch in his throat. He can’t say a thing.

“Nice talk, but you’re not the one I want to torment right now!” Bill says from Stanford’s mouth, and he gives Fiddleford’s wrist one final, painful squeeze before shoving him away and off the couch. “Where’s my inferior clone?”

Fiddleford hits the ground hard, unable to catch himself with his other hand. Instantly he turns towards where Stanley was resting. The terms of Bill’s possession are unclear, Fiddleford has no idea how to expel that demon from Stanford’s body without hurting him, or even with hurting him if it came to that.

What is clear, however, is the danger Bill’s occupation poses to both him and Stanley.

Fiddleford rolls onto his hand and knees to make his way towards Stanley— he doesn’t know what to do, but it’s bound to be easier if Stanley’s awake for it— but Bill reaches him first. He tumbles Stanford’s body over the arm of the couch, landing directly on top of Stanley.

“What the hell?” Stanley grunts, “get offa me, Ford!”

“Aw, why? Don’t you miss me, brother?” Bill teases. “Don’t you want a hug?”

Whatever Stanford does, it has Stanley crying out in pain. Fiddleford scrambles to his feet.

“Oh, he got you good didn’t he! Bet it really hurts! I’m jealous!” Bill continues, and Stanley’s shout trails off into the loud, shaky breaths of someone trying very hard not to agitate an injury.

“Ford— what—“ Stanley wheezes.

“It’s Bill!” Fiddleford corrects, looping an arm around Stanford’s neck in an attempt to pull him off of Stanley.

Bill lets out a choked laugh, one hand clawing at Stanley’s shoulder while the other scrambles against Fiddleford’s arm. His nails are short— Stanford always had a bad habit of chewing at them— but there’s enough there to dig into his skin.

“This is all your fault!” Bill wheezes. “As usual, you ruined everything, Mackerel! I tried to tell Sixer here that this would happen, but he trusted you! And look where it’s gotten us! You, branded like a cow, him, stuck in another world, and me without my portal!”

Branded. Stanley’s cry of pain, the way he’d been favoring one arm all day, his wince when Fiddleford mentioned burning himself—

“Let go, you damnable triangle!” Fiddleford snaps, and Stanley scrambles to get Stanford’s hand off of his shoulder just as Fiddleford throws his full weight backwards. It’s hard to keep him in place without support from his other arm, but it’s enough to pull him free.

“You worthless sack of rotting meat!” Bill snarls, wrenching himself free of Fiddleford’s grip now that he’s no longer wasting a hand on tormenting Stanley. “I will get what I want, and Palo Alto will be my first stop once I wipe Gravity Falls off the map! You’re about to miss a lot of birthdays, hick, but I’ll show Tater how to party!”

“You keep his name out of your mouth!” Fiddleford shouts, and before he can think better of it, he throws his full weight into a punch to Stanford’s jaw.

He doesn’t have a lot of weight, even less now than ever before, but it’s enough that Stanford stumbles, falls, and slams his temple into the break room countertop.

Fiddleford freezes, locked in the follow through. Stanley stares from where he’s sitting on the ground, a hand covering his shoulder, wide eyes flicking between Fiddleford and Stanford.

“… Hell of a left hook,” Stanley says faintly.

“Oh my lord,” Fiddleford breathes, and both of them scramble towards the unconscious form of Stanford at once.

“Hey, wake up, Poindexter,” Stanley demands, tapping Stanford’s cheek with an open palm.

Fiddleford grabs Stanford’s wrist, reminds himself that he's never been able to feel someone’s pulse there, and leans forward to rest his head on his chest instead, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the way it rises and falls with each breath.

He didn’t kill him, thank the lord. Still, a potential brain injury is a potential brain injury and Stanley is right to try to wake him. Still, last time Fiddleford had tried to wake him…

“Stay here, be careful,” Fiddleford says, waiting for Stanley to acknowledge him— a confused glance, good enough— before he darts out of the break room.

Somewhere around here, in some pile of crap Fiddleford never got around to sorting through— ah, there it is. Fiddleford fishes a length of rope from a pile of scrap fabric, then retrieves the reading light from his desk.

Supplies successfully gathered, he returns to the break room. Stanley has moved Stanford so his head is resting in his lap, and keeps poking at him in an attempt to rouse him.

“Gonna need you to tie the knots,” Fiddleford says, handing over the rope as he settles down beside Stanford.

“What?” Stanley holds the rope limply, apparently baffled by its sudden presence in his hands.

“Tie his wrists, Stanley, I know he hurt you and I wanna make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

“Whaddya mean, I’m fine,” Stanley says quickly. “He was pushing you around too, wasn’t he? Are you fine?”

“Don’t even start with me,” Fiddleford sighs, “once we get Stanford sorted out, you’d best believe I’m checkin’ in on your shoulder.”

“What shoulder?” Stanley says, and then immediately winces.

“Just tie your brother's arms, will you?”

Stanley grumbles unhappily, but does so with unnerving ease. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this, Fiddleford reckons.

Once he’s bound, Fiddleford lets out a soft sigh of relief, letting himself rest his hand against Stanford’s chest, comforted by the feeling of his heart beating beneath his palm.

“Come on hun,” Fiddleford gently requests. “Why don’t ya wake up?”

“So, is calling your lab partner ‘hun’ a nerd thing or a southern thing?” Stanley says, absently continuing to poke at Stanford’s cheek even as he looks up at Fiddleford with a shit-eating grin.

“Is now really the time?” Fiddleford hisses.

“Hey, I find my fun where I can,” Stanley says with a tight shrug. He pinches either side of Stanford’s lips, parting them as he talks in a mocking voice. “I’m Stanford Pines, I want to make out with Nikola Tesla, polynomial equations, and maybe my lab assistant!”

“Will you hush up?” Fiddleford snaps, feeling his cheeks go red. Still, there’s something to be said for the redirection of the tension in the room.

Then, Stanford groans softly, and all that tension returns. Stanley pulls his hand away as if burnt. Fiddleford moves his hand down to Stanford’s bound wrists, checking the knots there.

“Nnn… wha…” Stanford‘s eyes open slowly.

As soon as they do, Fiddleford is flicking the reading light on and shining it into his eyes. He immediately hisses and squeezes them shut, but Fiddleford catches a glimpse of his round pupils before he does.

“Wh—“ Stanford grumbles, before he suddenly bolts upright. “Stanley!”

“Right here, Six,” Stanley says calmly, leaning away just in time to avoid getting headbutted.

“He— Bill, he wanted to— he blamed you for ruining the portal, stranding me on this side where I couldn’t help him, he wanted to— and he wasn’t even the one—“

Stanford trails off, looking at Stanley with wide, desperate eyes before he leans his head forward, resting it on Stanley’s uninjured shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, Stanley unties his brother’s wrists and wraps his arm around him, sighing into his hair as he leans his cheek against the top of his head.

“Stanley…” Stanford whines, like a child seeking comfort.

“I got you,” Stanley says carefully. Fiddleford meets his eyes, and sees the uncertainty there. “We’re gonna figure this out, Ford.”

“We’d better,” Fiddleford agrees, and Stanford curls tighter into Stanley’s arms at the sound of his voice. He tries not to take it personally. “We did most of the hard work, if that equilateral bastard can find some other schmuck to break in and finish it off, it’s over.”

Stanford peels himself away from Stanley, turning to look at Fiddleford. His eyes are wet, cheeks ruddy. There's blood smeared down one of them, the few tears he allowed to slip doing little to dilute it.

“I’m— I’m so sorry, Fiddleford,” Stanford says, half reaching for him as well.

Fiddleford sighs helplessly, and catches Stanford’s hand before it can retreat. Despite the bruise Bill had pressed into his wrist with these same hands, the six fingers fitting comfortably between his own are as soothing as they’ve ever been.

It’s not like Stanford never apologizes, but it’s a rare occurrence. He’ll apologize for little things, like waking Fiddleford up at some ungodly hour, but never for the larger strokes, like almost getting Fiddleford killed again and again. If Stanford was actually invested in his actions, getting him to apologize for them was like pulling teeth.

And in the time since their reunion, there was nothing he was more invested in than that portal.

“You— you were right about everything. I should have listened to you, I can’t believe I was so foolish!”

“Dumbest genius I’ve ever met,” Fiddleford agrees, and the resigned hurt on Stanford’s face has him squeezing his hand in an attempt at comfort. “But you’re still a genius. If anyone can figure out how to stop him, I reckon it’s us.”

(Un)happy Reunion

Ford Pines & Stan Pines & Fiddleford McGucket | 3,143 words | Mystery Trio Through the Multiverse AU

Fiddleford reunites with Stanford and meets Stanley after 6 months alone in a post-apocalyptic city in some other dimension.

Chapter 1

see notes for future chapters!

If Fiddleford had to describe this world he’s spent the past 6 months in in a single word, he’d probably choose terrible. Other descriptors such as strange, horrible, post-apocalyptic, and dangerous also come to mind. Lately, though, he’s been putting a lot of thought into the word lonely.

There were intelligent species here, once. It’s clear in the almost-familiar design of this destroyed city, in the tattered books written in a language Fiddleford can’t make any sense of, in every little item he comes across. He even has an idea of what they looked like— he’s seen their art, their pictures, their mangled bodies— and Fiddleford has to wonder if Bill understood the cruel irony of sending him to a world that was once inhabited by pig people.

He wonders, sometimes, if he could have found a way to communicate with them, if any of them were left. Would his throat have been able to form the words of their language, or theirs his? Would they have tried to help him? Just being around another living creature that didn’t try to kill him on sight would be pretty nice right now.

Unfortunately, that’s never been what this planet has in store for him, and when he hears something move nearby, he knows it’s a threat.

It must be in the next alleyway, and it’s fairly big— most of the monsters Bill left here are. Fiddleford goes still, staring in the direction of the alleyway and listening for any other sign of movement. It’s quiet for a moment, until Fiddleford hears a loud crash and what sounds like hushed murmuring. So many things have sounded like human voices lately that he doesn’t put any stock into it, just dips into the nearest alleyway in an attempt to escape whatever is making that noise before it even knows he’s here.

It’s an attempt that fails immediately, as he crashes into a pile of shredded metal like an idiot. It slices through the worn fabric of his pants, but as far as he can tell it doesn’t reach skin. It does, however, make a very loud noise, and the not-voices go quiet.

“Son of a gun,” he allows himself to hiss, and he takes off down the alleyway without any further regard to the sound he’s making.

Something steps out in front of him, blocking his way. It’s taller than the previous inhabitants of this planet, but smaller than most of the monsters he’s encountered. It’s built a lot like a person, and not a particularly imposing one at that, so Fiddleford doesn’t slow his roll for a moment. He fishes a knife out of the tattered pocket of his lab coat, and slams his shoulder into the beast.

It cries out, still sounding a heck of a lot like a person as it hits the ground, breaking Fiddleford’s fall. He presses the knife to what should be its throat, and is almost surprised to find smooth, human-looking skin beneath his blade. It’s a familiar shade, even, and Fiddleford can’t help but let his eyes wander further up to its face—

“Stanford?” Fiddleford spits, downright baffled to see his big brown eyes looking up at him.

Stanford opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Fiddleford is being hauled off of him. Something has grabbed the back of his scarf and pulled it tight, tight enough that Fiddleford gags against the construction, tight enough that he’s reminded of Bill’s hand around him, crushing the breath from his lungs, and suddenly he’s being slammed against the brick wall of the alleyway and crushed between Bill’s uncaring fingers and—

“Stanley!”

That’s Stanford’s voice, he’d recognize it anywhere, but how is he here?

“Who the fuck—“

A voice, closer than Stanford’s, unfamiliar but definitely not Bill. It’s a person that’s holding him, and even if he’s struggling to breathe against the arm pressed to his throat, he can deal with a person.

Fiddleford kicks out, slamming his knee between the legs of his assailant.

“Son of a—!” he shouts, but he lets go of Fiddleford to stumble back.

“Stop! Stanley, this is Fiddleford! He’s the reason we’re here!” Stanford says, inserting himself between the two of them. “Well, he’s the reason I wanted to be here. You’re the reason you’re here and we don’t know how to get back.”

Yep, that insufferable holier-than-thou tone is definitely Stanford.

“I’m the reason you’re here?” Fiddleford chokes, rubbing his throat as he tries to regain his bearings. “It’s your fault I’m here!”

“I know that!” Stanford says, turning to Fiddleford.

Stanford looks about the same as he left him, beyond the dark circles under his eyes. Fiddleford knows the same can’t be said about himself.

“Listen, Fiddleford, I—“

“Save it, Stanford,” Fiddleford snaps, shaking his head as he turns towards the other man in the alleyway. “You must be Stanley?”

When Fiddleford first heard about Stanford’s twin, he imagined a carbon copy of his then-roommate. Stanley is not that. They’re nearly identical in the shapes of their faces, the texture and shade of their hair, the slope and color of their eyes, but the similarities end there. Put simply, Stanley looks like shit, with long, tangled hair, an unshaven face, and dark circles to rival Stanford’s, all wrapped up in a ratty jacket over an even rattier shirt. Even the way he holds himself is worrying, the way he’s hunched in on himself like a coiled spring, turned to the side like he’s keeping something just out of sight, eyes weary, teeth grit.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Stanley grumbles, and he draws himself even tighter. Even in conversation he’s locked on the defensive, and with the brief glimpse of an interaction between him and Stanford, Fiddleford can’t say he blames him.

“Nice ta meet ya, Stanley. I’d offer to shake your hand, but mine seems to be missin’,” Fiddleford greets. “Well, not missin’ exactly, I know where it is, but it ain’t doin’ me much good inside the stomach of some rottin’ monster.”

“Your arm!” Stanford exclaims belatedly.

He grabs for Fiddleford’s shoulder, but Fiddleford quickly smacks his hand away, a shudder running through his body at the phantom sensation of someone grabbing at what remains of his arm. He steps away, eyeing Ford wearily, almost expecting him to try again.

He doesn’t. He brings his hand back, tucking it to his chest for just a moment, hurt in his eyes. After a moment, he clears his throat, straightens up, and tucks his hands behind his back.

“I take it that’s a new development?” Stanley says, watching Fiddleford carefully. The matching scrutinizing gazes of both twins sets Fiddleford even further on edge.

“I would never have allowed such grievous injury to come to him under my care!” Stanford huffs, glaring at Stanley.

Fiddleford barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“And who’s god-forsaken vanity project brought me here, Stanford?”

“Easy, Fiddlesticks,” Stanley cuts in before Stanford can respond. “None of us are happy to be here, but he—“

Fiddleford raises his hand. “Shut yer yap.”

“Okay, rude—“

“I mean it, don’t ya hear that?” Fiddleford hisses. It’s barely audible, not like Stanford and Stanley’s rustling in a nearby alleyway. Something is moving through the main streets.

“I don’t hear shit, except some hillbilly interrupting me wh—“

“I hear it,” Stanford says, and Stanley throws his arms up in frustration.

Click-click, drag, click-click, click-click. Three functional limbs, one dragging along, moving at a gradual, unhurried pace. The time between each step suggests a step length of perhaps a meter. It’s large, too large for Fiddleford to deal with without his arm, but likely small enough to fit into this alleyway. Stanley seems pretty tough, and Stanford had somehow held his own for 6 years in Gravity Falls despite its many dangers, but he wasn’t about to trust either of them in a fight against whatever unknown beast was approaching.

“It’s coming from—“ Stanford whispers, and despite the low volume, Fiddleford cringes at the sound.

“I know,” Fiddleford snips quietly, “follow me.”

Fiddleford doesn’t bother to check if either of them listened— Stanford reacts well to confidence, and with any luck, Stanley would as well— before he’s slinking out of the alleyway, carefully watching his step this time.

“Come on, dumbass,” Stanley hisses, and Fiddleford spares them a glance. Both have moved to follow, but Stanford is hesitating, looking behind him even as Stanley grabs his arm and pulls him along behind him.

“I just want a look—“ Stanford mumbles, shaking Stanley’s hand off.

“This ain’t Gravity Falls, Stanford, an’ I won’t hesitate to leave you ‘n’ your brother for mincemeat if you don’t hurry yer asses up!”

Stanford immediately turns towards Fiddleford, eyes wide, mouth parted in shock. Fiddleford glares at him, lets him truly believe he means it (Fiddleford knows he wouldn’t leave Stanford or his brother, damn him) before he turns back around and continues on the way. This time, Stanford and Stanley follow without any further prompting, though Fiddleford hears what sounds like an amused snort from Stanley at Stanford’s sudden obedience.

[venivenias]

i love music so much i'm going to kill myself

[euthymiya]

“i wanna ruin our friendship!” ft. wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, and kamisato ayato

in which genshin men decide being friends is not enough. why be friends when you could clearly be so much better as lovers? part two of “we’re just friends, but…” (<- read part one for better understanding of each)

contains: female reader (use of miss, milady/my lady, lovely lady, and madame) ; fluff (slight hints of angst but all happy endings) ; confessions, friends to lovers, wriothesley: implied harassment of reader by an inmate, reader is a doctor at the fortress, angry and possessive wriothesley, jealousy ; neuvillette: reader works at the palais, melusine features, neuvillette is implied to be emotional and make it rain ; alhaitham: mentions of drinking alcohol (alhaitham), vulnerable alhaitham, reader can cook ; ayato: slightly insecure reader, mentions of reader being in a lower class than ayato

WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley is not a possessive man, despite his feelings for you.

he’s long accepted that somewhere between frequent visits to you in the infirmary and occasional lunches together as fellow colleagues at the fortress, he’s fallen hopelessly hard for you. how could he not, when you’re so gentle-natured, smart, and unfairly pretty?

but still, wriothesley is not a possessive man. when men praise you to the archons and admire your unearthly beautiful smile, he is not possessive. when he grumpily watches your fingers brush against bare chests of the wounded after pankration matches, he is not possessive. when you shyly thank an inmate who rushes to hold a door open for you, he is not possessive.

but even wriothesley has his limits. and they happen to snap over the edge today—because now, as a man corners you against the wall, pestering you until distress is clear on your face, wriothesley feels possessive.

it’s a shameful feeling, but it’s one he can’t help. he’s tolerated many things, enough of them that make him wash down the bitter taste of jealousy with the most soothing tea he can find in his collection. but this? this is beyond the patience of even a kind warden such as himself.

you, whether you or anyone else in this fortress knows it, are his to protect.

so he walks up, fisting the inmate’s shirt and lifting him up to drag away from you, jaw tight and locked as he asks lowly, “is there a problem? if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were giving this lovely lady here some trouble.”

“y-your grace,” the man, to his credit, has a good mind to look remorseful, eyeing you nervously for a moment before rapidly shaking his head. “n-no, i was just…i was just askin’ her if she’d like some help findin’ her way is all. you know the fortress can be confusin’ ’n such.”

the inmate trails off, nervously chuckling as he quivers in the warden’s unforgiving hold.

wriothesley glances at you, raising an unconvinced eyebrow as he asks, “and do you need any help finding your way, miss?”

“no,” you shake your head, voice a bare whisper.

his jaw tightens further, glancing back at the man before he snarls lowly, “then you leave her alone. don’t let me catch you bothering her again, understood?”

“y-yes, your grace!”

wriothesley releases the man’s shirt, crumpled from his iron grip as he stares, eyes narrowed—threatening, even, as he waits for the brave soul (for anyone who bothers you where he’s in charge is the bravest of all souls) to leave. not one moment is wasted before you watch the inmate scramble away, leaving you alone with a tense, disgruntled duke in your hands.

“thank you,” you whisper, “i’m not sure how much longer he’d have bothered me if you hadn’t shown up.”

“anyone else ever try that before?” he seethes. you’ve never seen him so angry before—something about it feels almost personal.

you shake your head, stepping away from the wall as you walk over to him. “no, wriothesley,” you murmur, “no one gives me a hard time. this was a first.”

“let me know if anyone bothers you,” he grunts, fist still clenched even with no shirt to hold like earlier. “i’ll take care of it.”

you eye the way it’s tightly curled, knuckles almost ghostly white from the pressure before you gently grab his hand, working his fingers loose from his tight grip and rubbing a soothing thumb over the crescent mark from his nails along his palm.

“of course,” you smile softly, “though, i’m sure word will spread quickly that the warden doesn’t appreciate his doctor being bothered by persistent men. i don’t think there will be any repeats of this incident.”

he should feel ashamed.

you think so highly of him—defaulting to believing he’d saved you because he was only worried for your wellbeing, and not because it burned him alive to see a man so close to you, a man who desired you just as much as he did and had stooped to such unchivalrous methods to have you.

faintly, he’s aware that your hand is still grasping his, still rubbing a thumb over the angry, red marks along his palm as you study him carefully. he’s sure there’s not much he hides in his expression—you must be reading him like an open book. he can’t bring himself to care, however, not when the sight of someone else pinning you to a wall and towering over you is still so fresh in his head.

“something on your mind, your grace?” you ask, leaning closer.

perhaps, if he was a stronger man, one with more firm principles, he’d know to pull away and give you your space. but you lean closer, and he’s weak to his own desires, so he takes it as an invitation to lean closer himself.

“yes,” he admits, “i…i’m afraid i had less than honorable intentions when stepping in.”

“oh?” you raise a brow, looking at him in fond amusement. maybe you already know, he thinks, if your lack of surprise tells him anything. “enlighten me, then. what were your intentions?”

“to make sure no man comes close to you,” he mumbles, leaning closer while you do the same, your noses just barely brushing as your breath all but mingles.

“why?” you ask. it almost sounds like a plead—like you’re waiting to hear something desperately.

“because it’s unbearable to see you with other men,” he says hoarsely. if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it. but he has reason to believe you’re quite the opposite, in fact, when your eyes seem to brighten.

“and if i were to say i appreciate your intentions?” you ask softly.

finally, his jaw loosens—instead, he replaces the clench with a loose, easy grin, one that allows him to chuckle lowly as he stares at you with a playful disbelief.

“that so?” he hums, “perhaps then you’d care to join me for dinner today, milady—i’ll have the finest meal the cafeteria has to offer waiting for you.”

“on a date?” you ask hopefully.

“on a date,” he confirms with a slight nod.

you kiss his cheek, making his breath catch in his throat as you step away and smile gleefully. “i’ll see you at dinner then, your grace.”

NEUVILLETTE

the first day you skip your newfound routine of tea and desserts with neuvillette and the many, many melusines that join, it rains. harshly so, in fact.

you walk up to the palais, soaked from the unexpected weather as you grin sheepishly at a concerned sedene.

“madame!” she gasps, “oh, you’ve been caught in the weather!”

“it’s alright, sedene,” you chuckle, “it’s nothing new in fontaine to have unexpected rain. i suppose i should’ve planned accordingly. is monsieur neuvillette in his office? i have papers for him,” you hold up a file.

sedene fidgets for a moment, hesitant as she says, “yes…he’s in his office but…well, i should warn you that he’s not in the best of moods.”

“oh dear,” you furrow your brows, “how unfortunate. i’ll make it quick. they’re quite urgent papers.”

she nods at your promise—and just before you can turn to leave, she stops you, seemingly debating before making a final comment.

“you didn’t join us today, madame,” she starts, “for tea today during the monsieur’s break.”

“oh,” you tilt your head in surprise for a moment, “you’re right, i didn’t. i apologize if you were waiting on me. i was caught up with much paperwork to finish before i came in.”

“i see. perhaps monsieur neuvillette will appreciate knowing that, then,” she smiles.

before you can ask, she skips away, finding a group of melusines in the corner. you watch as they whisper away behind their paws, blinking back your confusion before walking towards the door of neuvillette’s office, knocking gently.

“monsieur neuvillette? may i come in? i have some papers that must be delivered to you.”

there’s a shuffle from inside, a clearing of the iudex’s throat before a raspy, “yes, of course. come in.”

you enter, walking in slowly as you close the distance between the door and his desk, smiling as you set the file down in your hands. he looks rather…well, you’re not sure, exactly—perhaps the best word would be melancholy. suddenly, sedene’s words from earlier ring in your head, and you wonder if there’s any relation between your absence and his seemingly downcast mood.

so you give him an apologetic look as you speak. “i apologize if my absence was a surprise to you today. it seems i lost track of time with paperwork. i hope you enjoyed a peaceful break with the melusines,” you hum, “you certainly need a proper break with all the duties you take on.”

against your better judgement, you reach over, brushing a strand of misplaced hair from his forehead and tucking it back in place. rarely does the chief justice of fontaine ever look less than prim and proper, if ever at all—and the action causes you to pause just as much as it does him.

he breaks the silence first, and if he notices the slight flustered expression on your face, he doesn’t point it out as he says gently, “it’s quite alright. i’m sure you’re a busy individual.”

“i do quite enjoy my routine visit,” you say shyly, “it was a shame i couldn’t join today. but rest assured, i’ll be present tomorrow.”

“i’m glad to hear it,” he seems to brighten a bit, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he admits in a quieter voice, “truthfully, i had assumed you didn’t want to join me—or excuse me, us,” he coughs, correcting himself at the end.

“oh dear,” you furrow your brows, crinkles forming in your forehead as you quickly shake your head, “of course i love joining you. today was a rare occasion, i’m afraid. i hope i didn’t upset you, monsieur.”

“no,” he shakes his head just as quickly. he coughs, clearing his throat as he adds, “it’s just that i…well, i have come to enjoy your company. a little more than i perhaps should.”

he doesn’t meet your gaze, cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink as you take in his words. silently after a moment, with a bright grin on your face that spreads across your lips and finds itself in the deepest of crinkles in your eyes, you slowly reach over to cup his face.

neuvillette, no matter how trained in self control, cannot help but lean into your touch, staring at you with wide eyes as you rub a delicate circle into the swell of his cheek.

“i’ve come to enjoy your company as well, monsieur. perhaps…perhaps it would be nice to enjoy each other’s company outside of the palais as well,” you offer. and then, eyeing the small opening in the door, you add, “somewhere away from prying eyes.”

neuvillette watches as the door quickly shuts, the soft giggles of the melusines muffled behind the door as he chuckles in amusement. his hand cups the back of your own, cheek laying comfortably in your palm.

“yes,” he murmurs softly, “i think i would love that.”

ALHAITHAM

alhaitham is not drunk today.

you can tell when you open the door because he’s not swaying, or slurring his words, or staring at you with a hazy look. instead, he’s perfectly sober, perfectly rational, and perfectly collected alhaitham.

you look at him in surprise before smiling in greeting.

“you’re not drunk for once,” you murmur, “i don’t think i ever get a visit from you when you’re not drunk.”

the words make him wince a bit—he doesn’t like the implication of that. alhaitham enjoys your company when he’s not inebriated, especially when he’s not inebriated, in fact. mainly because he can actually recall things that way, like the way you laugh and the crinkle of your eyes. but somehow, being drunk has become a bit of a weekly routine for him at the tavern with his friends (which really, is just cyno and tighnari, and of course, kaveh—but kaveh can hardly be considered a friend these days).

coming to your doorstep every week when he’s drunk becomes a byproduct of his habits. he can’t control them, like an involuntary muscle that moves on its own accord without his permission. just like his heart beats and pumps blood, his feet carry him to find you.

it’s natural, autonomic.

“i didn’t want to drink tonight,” he explains, rubbing his neck awkwardly. alhaitham is blunt—speaking his mind is not a complicated task. he’s sure of his thoughts and opinions, and the response people give them is of little concern to him.

but his thoughts aren’t very coherent when they come to you. he’s not sure of even a single thing, in fact. sure, he knows he likes you—really, really likes you. but sometimes, he contemplates if he’s fallen in love with you. he can’t tell, if he’s being honest, because he’s never been in love before. it’s uncharted waters for even someone as knowledgeable as him.

and then there’s the more difficult part. he’s not sure if you feel the same, or if you’d respond positively to the idea of his developed feelings. logic tells him you’re kind, compassionate, deeply understanding. perhaps you’d let him down gently and still consider him a good friend if you don’t feel the same. but for some reason, there’s an illogical part of him. one he doesn’t recognize. one that tells him that you might walk away and never look twice in his direction again as soon as you realize the nature of his feelings.

logic doesn’t win in his mind for once. it hasn’t for a very long time. it’s why he doesn’t tell you for so long how he feels.but tonight he plans to change that.

regardless of your feelings, requited or unrequited, alhaitham will tell you how he feels. he owes you that much, for all the careful care and deduction you put into handling his drunk self. for all the meals you made and let him eat before letting him crash on your couch. for all the cups of coffee you made his hungover self as you carefully tiptoed around your own home so the noise wouldn’t disturb his pounding head.

he clears his throat, fiddling with his fingers as he stares at his feet.

“do you want to come in?” you offer.

he shakes his head. “i don’t think that’s a good idea. i came…i came to say something.”

“i see,” you nod, “then by all means, share what you have to say.”

it’s not so easy. not when he tries to plan the words in his head as he walks to your home, and not when he’s standing before you. alhaitham is a linguist. he speaks over twenty languages, some of which are known to be romantic by nature. he’s read the divinest of poems and decoded the most complicated of hieroglyphics. he, of all people, should excel in putting words together.

but his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth as he stares at you, though. distantly, he’s aware he must look stupid. standing here, silent and stiff as you stand by your door and wait for him to spit out what he has to say.

so he says the first thing he can think—and it makes his face burn as soon as he realizes what he says. “your sabz meat stew is my favorite.”

you grin, chuckling in amusement as you murmur, “oh my, i’m flattered. you came all this way to praise my cooking?”

“n-no,” he sighs in embarrassment, “that…that’s not what i meant.”

you hum, smiling at him softly as you patiently wait for him to speak again. a part of him feels like you’re aware of something, something that maybe even he’s not aware of himself. but he doesn’t want to dwell on that—perhaps your knowledge is a product of his drunken rambles, and he’s not sure he wants to even begin imagining what that might look like. what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“well, if you must know,” you giggle, “i enjoy making your favorite for you.”

“i enjoy your stew,” he mumbles, concentrating for a moment before his face hardens with determination and he looks at you, “i enjoy waking up on your couch, and drinking your coffee, and the way you hum when you get ready for the day. it’s enjoyable because it’s you.”

you process his words for a moment before smile slowly, eyeing him with wonder as you break into a fit of giggles. he doesn’t have time to dwell on whether or not you’re laughing at him because there’s an arm looping around his bicep, pulling him in past your door and pressing him against it as soon as it’s shut.

you’re close—it’s the first thing he notices, chest brushed against his chest as you look up at him with a fond, affectionate expression.

“you’re a smart man, alhaitham,” you murmur, “i’m sure you can figure out why i make your favorite every time you come. and make your coffee just how you like. and let you sleep in on my couch when i could be spending my morning enjoying the sun.”

he wants to tell you that he doesn’t feel very smart when he’s around you. it’s like logic is a foreign concept as soon as your smile invades his line of sight. but words are difficult enough to produce when you’re so close, he doesn’t think he could tell you even if he tried.

instead, he asks, “because you’re kind?”

“not kind enough to do groceries for two every weekend,” you chuckle. “unless…”

“unless…?” he asks breathlessly.

“unless it’s you, silly,” you snort. “do fill in the lines, will you?”

he allows himself to hope. because it doesn’t take logic to let himself hope you feel the same way he does.

“if…” he takes a deep breath, taking a moment to contemplate before boldly settling his hands on your hips, “if i come here next week sober, would you still open the door for me?”

“of course,” you whisper.

“if i came whenever i wanted, would you still open the door for me?” he asks, eyes peering into yours desperately, begging you to tell him what he wants to hear.

you sigh, gently cupping his cheeks as he closes his eyes and shudders. “always,” you breathe, “will you come?”

“yes,” he nods. his shoulders slump—in relief and in pure bliss as he lets his head drop to the crook of your neck, pressing his nose into your warm skin as you cradle the back of his head. “because i enjoy coming home to you.”

“and i enjoy welcoming you home,” you murmur.

and it’s at the same time that you kiss the side of his head and he kisses the soft skin of your neck, a stumbling mess of limbs pressed against one another as you both find your way to collapse on your familiar couch.

KAMISATO AYATO

it’s midnight when there’s a knock on your door. it’s rushed, an incessant tapping against the surface that almost has you concerned, but the familiar face through the peephole eases your worries.

and then it hits you—ayato is here. beyond the question of how he has the time to visit you so unexpectedly, there’s the concern of what people might think if he’s seen here so late, standing outside your door.

“ayato? why are you here?” you look at him in confusion as you open the door, eyebrows furrowing as he smiles at you.

“well, hello. such an enthusiastic greeting you’ve afforded me,” he says playfully, making you roll your eyes. “won’t you even invite me in?”

“well, come on then,” you huff, “it’s always something or another with you.”

“whatever do you mean?” he gasps, a hand pressing to his chest in mock hurt, “i’ve simply come to have a heartfelt conversation.”

“at this hour?” you cross your arms, scoffing at his timing. still, you could never turn him away.

it’s not of any trouble to you—ayato knows it too. but there’s something oddly vulnerable about having him in your home, and unexpectedly at that. suddenly, everything feels out of place and untidy to you, a contrast to the large, sophisticated estate you’re sure he must be used to. you shift on your feet, feeling the scrutinizing gaze of someone as important as the yashiro commissioner, standing in your small home where you have nowhere to hide.

“ah,” he nods in amusement, “how impolite of me. shall i take my departure, then?”

“i could hardly turn the yashiro commissioner away without allowing him to speak,” you shake your head, fighting back a smile as he grins. “pray tell, what could have prompted such a spontaneous visit?”

“i’d like to ask for your hand,” he says bluntly.

you blink, gaping at him in disbelief. ayato has never been cruel—in fact, he’s always been much the opposite. especially to you. he’s become painfully important, a friendship you’ve never expected but cannot fathom existing without now that you have him.

but something about this feels cruel, like he’s aware of the deeper feelings you’ve accidentally let surface in the process, feelings you try to push back desperately. how could the yashiro commissioner be seen with someone so far from his realm? someone so disconnected from his world and status?

you furrow your brows, looking at him unimpressed as you murmur, “that’s hardly funny, ayato. be serious.”

“i am serious,” he tilts his head, “i, kamisato ayato, would like to ask for your hand, milady. if you would be so kind, that is.”

his hand is offered to you—and something in your aches to reach for it. to feel his fingers intertwined with yours, to feel the rough calluses of his hands from years of swordsmanship, to feel the gentle warmth of his palm pressed up against yours.

“i-in marriage?” you ask in utter confusion.

he chuckles, hand still outstretched as he raises an eyebrow. “well, i figured marriage would be a bit sudden, but far be it from me to deny such an enthusiastic idea.”

you’re not sure why (or maybe you are, and you simply hate to admit it), but there’s a burning sting in the back of your eyes. something bubbling between humiliation and hurt and flooding in the form of tears as you stare at him unsure if he’s lost his mind, or if he’s simply joking at your expense.

ayato has never made you feel like a victim of casual cruelty from his end, so a small part of you wonders if he’s truly serious. but the more logical part of you tells you that if not a mere attempt at playfulness, what else could this be?

“this isn’t funny,” you whisper, voice small. “i hardly find such pranks entertaining, ayato. i thought you to be better than that.”

it’s silent. deafeningly so, in fact.

his hand drops—slowly, hesitant as he eyes you in uncertainty. he takes a step towards you, closing the distance enough to notice every small detail of your face, but leaving enough of a gap so as not to overstep.

“i hardly find any entertainment in offering myself up, either,” he murmurs, “do reject me gently if you intend to. i’m afraid my age is catching up to me—i have a weak heart.”

“you’re hardly old,” you snort, watching him suppress a smile as he studies you. “you’re really being serious?”

“do you doubt me?”

“i suppose not,” you whisper. his hand extends to you again, something hopeful in his eyes, something almost desperate as he stares at you and waits for you to finally take it in your grasp.

your hand slowly finds his, fingertips grazing those calluses you’ve noticed for so long, rough and firm under the delicateness of your touch. finally, it hits you he came without gloves on, and you realize it must be for the chance of feeling your skin against his, bare touch with no fabric to separate either of you.

you feel him, taking in the years and years of training that show through such toughened skin, and he watches you carefully as you trace along his palm before flattening your own against him, slowly lacing your fingers together.

“i have found the man who attacked you,” he says quietly, “and i’m ashamed to admit the…unsavory methods i was prepared to take to punish his crimes.”

“i hope you wouldn’t stoop to such levels for me,” you say quietly.

“i fear there isn’t much i wouldn’t resort to for your safety,” he admits.

“i’m hardly worth such trouble,” you shake your head, smiling softly as you reach over and cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently against the mole you’ve always ached to feel. whether from the brush of your lips or from the graze of your thumb, you’ve always wondered how it’d feel. “there are much more worthy women to be the object of your affections, my lord.”

“ayato,” he corrects. it sounds like a plead, if you listen carefully. “and not to me,” he shakes his head. “it’s you i desire. i’m afraid i cannot concentrate on my duties until i have you. the nation shall befall a most unfortunate fate if i must suffer a single night more without having you.”

“i’m starting to think i am the only hope inazuma has left,” you roll your eyes, staring at him in wonder, “it seems it has fallen to me to ensure we have a functioning yashiro commissioner.”

“i do hope you’ll take such responsibilities seriously.” his hand lays over your own, keeping your touch in place as he leans his face into your palm further, closing his eyes and relishing in your touch.

“oh, ayato,” you chuckle breathlessly, eyes watery as you step closer, closing the gap until your chest presses against his. you wonder if he can hear the rapid thrumming of your heart, if he can feel it. “you’ll be the death of me.”

“i should hope not,” he chuckles, leaning closer and closer until his lips hover over yours, just a millimeter away from brushing against them, “i fear for my own sanity should such an ill fate come before you.”

“oh kiss me, you fool,” you scoff tiredly at his antics.

he doesn’t waste a moment, pressing his lips hungrily against yours, hands wandering to your waist and instantly pulling you closer, fitting his palm to cradle the small of your back. he chases your lips frantically when you pull away, a low grunt of disapproval rumbling from his chest before he plants his lips against yours once more. he kisses you like he’s crossed oceans upon oceans to find you, fixed on keeping you not more than a fingertips distance away at all times so that he’ll never lose you again.

and finally—finally, once he’s decided he’s sufficiently stolen the air from your lungs, he allows you to pull back and breathe.

“i’m afraid i can be a rather overbearing lover,” he murmurs against your lips, pecking them lightly. “you’ll hardly be free of me should i desire your company.”

you chuckle, leaning to kiss his mole softly, cradling his face. “i believe i’ll find a way to cope,” you grin.

ayato was fun to write last time, and he was just as fun to write this time and i am realizing i have some real hidden feelings for the man the more i write him. i really enjoy doing his dialogue, though i’m not sure if i do it justice. i sure hope i do 🥹

[augustinewrites]

“sorry i'm late,” you sigh, hurrying into the teacher’s lounge much later than usual. shoko’s the only one there, feet propped up on the coffee table as she flips through a medical journal. you throw your coat over the back of a chair before joining her, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes 

“morning, sunshine.” shoko chuckles, handing you a mug. “this is a double shot, but maybe i should have gotten you a triple? what kept you up last night?”

“nothing," you quickly defend.

“you sure? because i'm not above blocking all the exits until you tell me.”

“you promise not to judge?”

“not out loud.” 

you roll your eyes at your best friend, but wring your hands tightly in your lap as you recall the events of last night. “have you ever had a…a special dream–”

shoko sits up straight, eyes wide as she says, much too loud, “you mean a sex dream?”

“shh!” you swat her on the arm, glaring. 

shoko ignores your obvious distress, grinning from ear to ear. “who are you having sex dreams about? is it ijichi? akari? oh my god, is it me? is it gojo? don’t tell me it’s gojo…”

“i may have been dreaming about…kento.”

“nanami?!”

heat immediately pools in your cheeks. “you can’t tell anyone, especially gojo. and hey, don't say it like that!” 

“i swear i’m not judging!” she promises. “if anything, i approve!”

“ugh,” you groan, heading over to the counter to put your unfinished mug in the sink. “i don’t know what’s going on with me.”

“fantasizing is normal. i’ve fantasized about everyone here. you, nanami, even gojo.”

“seriously?”

she takes a sip of her coffee, shrugging. “i'm a scorpio.”

that explains nothing and in no way makes you feel any better. if anything, you’re starting to feel a little possessive over someone who isn't even yours. 

“well i need to stop thinking about him like this,” you mutter, frowning.

“back to your dream. did you guys…do it?”

“shoko!” you gasp, gaze darting to the open door.

“so you did,” she deduces. “was it good?”

it was great. not that you’d tell her. 

“hey, naughty is good. naughty is sexy,” she laughs.

you rest your hip against the counter, shaking your head. “i can’t dream of him like that again. i can’t go on missions with him if i’m having these…inappropriate thoughts.”

“why? cause you want to be his good girl?”

some clears their throat loudly. 

both your heads whip toward the door, where nanami’s standing with his briefcase. “good morning.”

as he walks further into the lounge you wonder two things. first, how much he heard. second, how much force would it take to put your head through the wall–

“excuse me.” your entire body stiffens when a hand is placed on your waist, nanami gently moving you to the side as he grabs a mug from the cabinet. 

memories of last night’s dream invade the crevices of your mind, causing you to quickly step out of his reach. with his back turned you look to shoko for help, who simply makes a circle with her thumb and index finger and–

you feign casualness when nanami turns to face you, sending you a small smile before taking his coffee and making a swift exit.

shoko bursts out laughing as you groan, wishing you could melt into the floor.

_____

“look at them. they're totally talking about us,” gojo mutters, peeking into the teacher’s lounge.

“so?” nanami asks, prying gojo’s hand from his sleeve. 

“so, what do you think they're talking about? oh– oh, shoko just pulled out her phone. maybe they're talking about the thirst trap i posted for–”

nanami grabs the back of gojo’s shirt collar, dragging him away from the door. “why would they be talking about a picture you posted for your fiancée?” 

“because i'm hot–”

“please stop talking.”

“you’re hot too, nanamin! someone’s been giving you the look lately.” 

that makes him pause. “really? what look?”

the sorcerer wriggles out of his grip, an irritatingly wide grin on his face. “got your attention, did i?”

“what did you mean by that? what look?”

“the look. you know, the one where you’re picturing someone naked. fantasizing about them. caught her once while you were cooking us dinner. speaking of, what’s that one dish you made with the…”

nanami tunes out gojo’s nonsensical rambling, focusing on the few important things he’d shared as they walk down the hall. you were picturing him naked?

interesting. 

_____

when you open the front door of your apartment, nanami is standing there with a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine.

oh no. this is how the fantasies always start. 

“i was on my way home and wondered if you’ve eaten yet.”

you’d eaten two hours ago, but you step back to let him inside and get set up in the kitchen.

soon enough, your little kitchen is filled with the sound and scents of a home cooked meal. nanami is a natural in the kitchen, tossing veggies in a pan and stirring his homemade sauce.

(it almost looks as good as nanami does with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, cooking dinner in your apartment.) 

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when he reaches over to refill your glass. he refills his own, covering the pot and leaving it to simmer as he turns to where you’re perched on the counter.

“i wanted to talk to you about something,” he says suddenly, sweating his glass down. 

“hm?”

“i’m not above a few fantasies of my own.”

you almost choke on your wine. “gojo told you–”

he’s standing between your knees now, taking the glass from your hand and setting it aside. “i fantasize about you too.”

“you do?”

“i could tell you about them,” he suggests, voice dropping to a whisper as the tip of his nose nudges yours. “if you’re a good girl.”

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Male! Maleficent x Child! Reader

       "You promised you would allow me to leave if I brought you the herbs and cleaned the castle!" you remind the fae king, your tongue laced with distress at the broken promise.

"I made no such promise, my dear child" Maleficent states, smiling coldly at you.

The Faerie king found you wondering in his forest all alone, and took you as a captive.

And to gain your freedom, he made you go search for herbs and clean the castle.

"But you said-"

"I said if you do those two tasks I might think about letting you go back to your home, yet, I made no promises"

"You're a liar and a cheat!" you shout, your voice echoing off the stone walls of the castle.

"I did everything you asked of me, and for what? To be your slave forever?"

"Being my daughter wouldn't be considered slavery, my dear" Maleficent corrects you calmly.

"I'm not your daughter!" you argue.

The fae king's eyes narrow, his expression darkening while taking a step towards you, his movements slow and deliberate.

"You dare speak to me that way? I could end your life with a snap of my fingers."

His hand wrap around you neck, lifting you up from the floor.

"Life has been lonely for me, and you seem like you would make a good daughter for me, don't you agree"

The knowledge that he could take your life at any moment left you with no choice but to submit.

You nod you head which was extremely difficult due to his tight hold on your neck.

Maleficent released his grip on your neck, after placing your feet down on the floor, allowing you to gasp for air, your chest heaving with each desperate breath.

He stepped back, regarding you with a mix of satisfaction and happiness.

"Good girl," he declares, circling you like a predator stalking its prey.

"I knew you'd come around. You belong to me now, little one. And I take care of what's mine."

He reaches down and grabs your arm, hauling you to your feet. You stumble, unsteady from the lack of oxygen and the shock of his sudden brutality.

Maleficent doesn't seem to care. He drags you through the castle, past the opulent rooms and flickering candles, until you reach a heavy wooden door.

"This will be your chambers," he says, shoving you inside.

"All your necessities will be met, however you will forever stays those chambers"

"Yes, Father," you force yourself to say, the words bitter on your tongue.

"Thank you for your generosity."

Maleficent beams, delighted by your submission.

"Excellent. "

[beenbaanbuun]

tits, ass or thighs w/ ateez

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/smut

warnings - groping (consensual), size kink (yunho), manhandling (yunho, kind of yeosang), kind of somnophilia in sans, mingi is always eating pussy in my fics…, spanking (mingi and wooyoung), i think that’s the major ones…

kim hongjoong - ass

so my theory is that hongjoong likes having you on his lap; more specifically, straddling his lap. whether that’s during sex, cuddling, or just to chat, he wants you sitting on his thighs, staring into his eyes. of course, half of it is about the intimacy of it all - face to face, eye to eye, all that good stuff - but he can’t deny that he really does love the way it gives him the perfect opportunity to grope your ass.

his arms are always wrapped around you to hold you close, and your ass is just the natural place his hands fall. you can’t expect him not to cop a feel when his hands are already there in prime position. besides, your ass is just too nice not to squeeze; it gives his hands something to do whilst you’re telling him about your day… and that’s not even mentioning the way it makes you squirm whenever he’s balls deep inside of you, using his grip on your ass to guide your pace as you ride him into oblivion.

park seonghwa - tits

seonghwa is a gentleman except when it comes to your tits. he is always just touching them, giving some sort of shitty excuse as to why he needs to. ‘oh, i slammed the breaks too hard and didn’t want the seatbelt to hurt you,’ he says as he slowly draws his hand away from where it was just sitting on your breast. ‘i meant to touch your shoulder but i missed,’ he smiles prettily as if that excuses the way he’s pawing at your tit. the way he sees it, he shouldn’t even need an excuse to feel you up at any given moment in time…

because you can’t really blame him for wanting to touch them constantly. he likes soft, cute things are your tits? well they just happen to be the softest, cutest things around! sue him if they’re like magnets for his hands! he can’t help the way they draw them in now can he?

jeong yunho - thighs

BIG HAND ON THIGH I REPEAT BIG HAND… ON THIGH!!!! like when he’s driving you places?!?!? or even when you’re just watching a movie together?!?!?!? UGH!!! it just makes you feel so small and protected and the thought of you being so small and fragile for him? that shit makes yunho weak at the knees. it’s even better when he gets to squeeze your thighs and feel your plush flesh under his fingertips. he likes the way it never fails to make you wriggle in your seat.

and i’m sorry but it all comes down to the fact that this man definitely has a size kink and whatever he can do to make himself feel like the big strong knight and you his tiny little damsel in distress, he will do it. unfortunately that means that he literally always has his hand on your thigh just to show you how big he is compared to you, and just how easy it would be to manhandle you into any position he wants…

kang yeosang - thighs

i think i’ve spoken about yeosang being a dom enough on this account, so i won’t go into any more details about that. all i will say is that he loves pinning you by your thighs. pretty boy is so strong and he just adores the way you helplessly squirm as he holds you to the bed by them. he will literally torture you for hours with his face between your legs, but you can’t even buck your hips with how tightly he’s holding onto your shaking thighs.

and don’t get me started on the bruises he leaves in his wake. he’s spend hours kissing and admiring the fingerprints left on your skin the day after, trailing over them with his fingers and his tongue until he has you squirming and begging for him to give you more. there’s rarely a day goes by where you don’t have tiny purple marks painted up and down your thighs…

choi san - tits

san likes to cuddle something when he sleeps, right? since sharing your bed, that something has become you. he likes his arms wrapped around your waist and his head pressed to your chest, your soft flesh acting as the fluffiest pillow in the world. it’s even better when you play with his hair, sending him into a sleepy daze in minutes.

and it’s not his fault when you wake up to him rutting against your thigh, face pressed between your tits as he incoherently mumbles about how gorgeous you are. actually, it’s yours for sleeping without a bra on. how is san supposed to not be horny when he wakes up every morning to your pretty nipples poking through his tshirt that he let you sleep in. it’s only right that you help him fix his problem, right? that you let him drool over your boobs as he dribbles cum onto your thighs?

song mingi - ass

with the amount i talk about mingi being a slut for eating pussy, i think we all saw this coming, right? like your ass is just the perfect place to hold onto while he tucks in to his favourite meal. he especially likes it when you’re sitting on his face and he can just grab it, using it as leverage to pin you to his face when you start to become oversensitive from his rough licks.

and don’t even get me started about how feral he gets when he eats your pussy from the back. literally eyes closed, moaning like a whore as he licks at you from behind. loves to just grope you while he eats you out, pinching and smacking it every few seconds because he adores the way it makes your pussy clench and squeeze out even more of your precious fluids. he’s literally a bitch in heat when it comes to eating pussy, you will never convince me otherwise

jung wooyoung - ass

he’s a smacker… that’s all i have to say. any time, anywhere, you always need to be on guard because you never know when wooyoung is going to come up behind you and just smack! he likes the way it makes you squeal and blush, thinking you look the most adorable when you’re pouting and scolding him for spanking your ass in the middle of a grocery store! most of the time he just gives you a cheeky smirk before promising - with his fingers crossed, of course - that he won’t do it again.

and he can’t lie, he likes the way it feels in his hand too. the way it jiggles from the impact hypnotises him, and it’s always a struggle for him to pull himself away and not do just one more. but it’s fine, because you never complain when he has you face down ass up in bed, hands raining down spank after spank on your pretty cheeks until they’re red from the impact.

choi jongho - tits

i’m 90% certain that if you’re in a relationship with this man, your tits will become his new favourite thing. whether that’s to look at, to play with, to suck on, it doesn’t really matter. what does matter is they’re his and he will never leave them alone. like he always insists that you wear no bra at home so he can see your pretty nipples; even better if you’re wearing a thin white tshirt too so he can see the colour of them through the material.

the no bra thing also helps when he has his hand slung over your shoulder and he’s pawing at one of them like it’s a stress ball. he won’t even be paying attention to you, yet his hand will be rhythmically palming your tit, his finger flicking against the nipple every so often. and then after all that, when you inevitably ask him to deal with the mess he’s made between your thighs, he’ll have the audacity to act like it’s your fault that you’re horny! he’ll still fuck you though, and you’ll still end up with a nice selection of new purple hickeys across your chest…

[tbaluver]

Can I request how would each of the L&DS men roleplay for spicy times with the reader pretty please? 🙏🏼 Like, would they go for a Hero/Damsel in distress scenario, a Bandit/Captured princess thing or any other fun trope you can come up with?

Roleplay With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags/ warnings: MDNI, 18+, suggestive content, all will be tagged below, with each small fic a/n: hihi anonnie ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ sorry this took a while and i'm so srry in advance for what ur about to read idk if i did this justice, some is giving roleplay while some is not. most of these are teasers for my upcoming fics but i do NOT promise you all that these will be good so lmk if you want to be tagged or if you want them to be published on any one of these or all (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ i hope you enjoy reading! any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Rescuer! Xavier x Damsel in distress! Reader

He saves you after a dangerous mission and you must repay him back.

tags: xavier receiving

“No. I must repay you, my hero.” Your hand snakes down to unbutton and unzip his pants before you’re helping him remove his shirt.

“And how do you intend on doing that?” He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling in his eyes while a sly smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

You kiss down lower and lower, making sure to leave marks of your trail. You take your sweet time on his lower abdomen, your tongue tracing the lines of his abs while your hands work on slowly pulling his boxers off.

His cock springs up, begging to be finally freed with a bit of precum leaking from it. You lean in, kissing his tip softly, earning a twitch from his cock. His breath hitches, closing his eyes when your tongue traces along the underside of his cock.

────୨ৎ────

Prince! Xavier x Princess! Reader

After your question about his life in the kingdom, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He’s thought of the idea of you being his queen by his side, in the kingdom he was supposed to rule. So he decides to show you what it was like to treat and fuck you like the royalty like you deserve.

tags: aphrodisiac used

You can’t quite wrap your head around how he managed to acquire this drink or drug after his long journey to finally find you. But that thought fades away as he gently tilts your head, letting a drop of the liquid linger on your tongue before dropping the same dose of the liquid on his.

“They’ve told me that when you find someone you love, you try this with them. I’m glad to finally experience this with you, my princess.” He sets the dropper down on the nightstand, leaning in to kiss your knuckles gently. He grins softly, slowly getting drunk from the liquid.

It didn’t take long for both of your senses to sharpen and the aphrodisiac washed over your system. Your bodies were aching and yearning for each other’s touch, tearing and feeling each other up.

With quick haste, he clumsily unwraps his robe and helps you remove your slip dress. His mouth finds you again as you whine against his lips. Wet sounds of your lips crushing on his as your tongues melted in this heated exchange.

None of you break contact as he tugs his boxers down his legs, the sight of his cock throbbing in full view. His girth looks desperate and in pain and you’re taking it in your before guiding it into your crying cunt.

────୨ৎ────

Lumiere! Xavier x Reader

This will only be a one time thing between you two.

tags: Rough, jealous sex, Lumiere mask on Xavier beefing with himself

He remembers the way you look at Lumiere. The way your eyes lit up and your mouth curled up over just the thought of him. He hated it. But now with you naked beneath him as he thrusts into you deeper and deeper with his Lumiere mask on, he has to know who you wanted more. Lumiere or Xavier?

Your cunt clenches down tightly and your hands grips his shirt as you squeeze your eyes shut. The bed frame creaks. The sound of his skin slapping with yours bounced off the walls with each merciless thrust makes you see stars dance across your vision. Xavier panted heavily on top of you while the slap of wet skin to skin and the shameful squelch of your cunt accepted him, only him, Xavier.

“x-xavier...!”

He wasn't making it very easy for you. His hands find solitude on the wooden frame for support, his knuckles turning white as he grips it as his hips rock with more depth. His cock hits against your cervix, kissing and caressing the spongy walls.

“Y-You were so happy to see Lumiere, yet you call out my name.” He stammered, struggling to regain his composure, whatever was left of it. His mask hid most of his expression, yet you can see it all through his eyes and his parted lips.

“Who do you like more,” He clenches his jaw, shooting you a sharp look at your disheveled state. “Me or Lumiere?”

────୨ৎ────

Food Play

The only time one of you don't blow up the kitchen but he blows his seed in you.

tags: use of whip cream, xavier sucking ur tits

“Xavier, do you want some?” Tilting your head back while your finger pressing down on the nozzle to spray cream into your mouth. 

You sit down beside him, adjusting his head on your lap. He opens his mouth as you press your finger on the nozzle to spray cream into your mouth, some of it excessively dripping down his chin.

“You did that on purpose,” He pouts, using his thumb to swipe away the excess whip cream and licking it off. You giggle, offering a playful apology. “My turn,” He says, sitting up, a mischievous glint plays in his eyes. 

You tilt your head slightly, letting him spray the whip cream into your mouth. And of course he got pay back as he excessively sprays it down, the whip cream dripping to your chin and lower to your chest.

You giggle, licking it off your lips. “You’ve got some here.” He says softly, swiping the whip cream with his thumb and placing it on your lips. He watches you take his thumb in, your tongue purposely swirling and sucking in the remains of it, not breaking eye contact with him.

His breath hitches when he watches you swallow. “You’ve also got some here too.” He leans in lower to your chest, licking off the remains of the whip cream but he has other plans. He purposely glides his tongue lower and lower while pushing you down gently on the couch.

Zayne:

Doctor! Zayne x patient! Reader

Zayne always remains professional when working with his patients, however when it comes to you he tries, key word try, to keep it professional when his lover visits for a checkup or just a visit in general. Yet each visit is always tempting as the last and escalates to something more unethical in his office.

This type of roleplay can happen in your home. Using this type of roleplay to get your occasional personal checkup with your lover in your shared bedroom.

tags: p in v

“Hi Doc-tor,” You say, knocking lightly on the door while leaning against the door frame. Zayne glances up from his patient report, his attention instantly drawn to that familiar voice. A small smile curls at the corners of his lips as he takes in the sight of you. You step inside, making sure to close and lock the door behind you.

“What brings you here?” He asks, setting his pen down and rising from his seat to greet you properly.

“I miss you and,” you reply, pouting playfully as you step into his embrace. He wraps his arms around you, the scent of your lover flooding your nostrils.

“And?” His brow arches, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Doctor Zayne, I’m not feeling well,” You sounded so innocent, so much worry laced in your words that he knew something was up the moment he heard you by his door. He plays along after missing you during these past few hours. The night before still lingering from his mind.

“And what seems to be the issue?” he asks, attempting to maintain a serious tone but you both know that his composure will soon crumble from just a simple touch from you.

“I need some vitamin U,” You say with a sheepish grin yet your mischievous fingers say otherwise as you toy with the lapel of his white coat. He chuckles, leaning in closer, “If that’s the case, I’ll make sure to give you a daily dose.”

-

The top of your blouse unbuttoned to expose your breasts, peeking under your bra that had been pushed up. Your skirt  pulled up to your hips to have your lower half completely exposed as you bounced on the lap of your lover. 

Incoherent whimpers escape from your lips as you feel your climax rapidly approaching you. You both knew it wasn’t appropriate to leave the hospital to get fucked in the chief surgeon’s office, yet here you both were.

“Z-Zayne-!” You cried as his cock hit a special spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling back. His large palms grip your ass, guiding you up and down on his length. He hushes you, his breath warm against your neck, “We wouldn’t want the others overhearing you getting this special treatment, now would we?”

“Are you close, my love?” He whispers, adding pressure to your nipples to stimulate your orgasm to come faster and harder. You whimper, arching your back as he continues to pound into your cunt, eager to meet his own release with yours.

────୨ৎ────

Patient! Zayne x Doctor! Reader

It was a long and exhausting shift for him. what’s a better way to come home to his lovely partner to come take care of him and his needs?

He's practically melting in your touch the moment he gets home, letting you do whatever you want too him, just please don't tease him.

tags: zayne receiving

“Luckily for you, I have the perfect medicine for that,” You grin mischievously, removing yourself from his lap while his hands instinctively reach for you, sliding away as if he already missed your touch.

He quirked a brow, eyeing your movement. “And what do you plan to do, doc-tor?” Drawing out the last word with a teasing whisper.

“Just sit back,” You slip between his legs, his legs opening to welcome you. You reached for his belt, unbuckling them before unbuttoning his pants. He lets out a breathy chuckle, lifting his hips to allow you to pull them down. “and let me take care of you.”

You looked so pretty kneeling in front of him, your hand pumping the base of his cock while you tried your best to fit the rest of his length inside of your mouth. His tip hits the back of your throat, earning an embarrassing whine escaping his lips.

Your hand starts stroking his cock faster, and he could feel you switch from darting your tongue across his leaking slit to closing your lips around his tip and sucking to your heart’s content. Your pacing was quickening and his knuckles were turning white as he fists onto the cushions of the couch for his dear life.

────୨ৎ────

Cooking/ Baking Role Play

Your lover, the sweet tooth, would stay extra late to help you clean up the kitchen but he can't help but get a quick taste before doing so.

tags: slight food play ? zayne a feen for ur boobs

He joins your lips and wraps his arms around your waist to help pull you up on the kitchen table. His tongue dances in sync with yours while his hands travel up and up under your shirt before fully taking it off. He lets out a lowly breath at the sight of your hardened nipples, pinching them and receiving a filthy moan from you. Pushing you down gently on the table, he hovers over you, thinking about all the things he could do.

With a quick swipe of his finger, he scoops up the leftover whipped cream and places the cold substance on your neck. His tongue traces and tastes the curve of your neck, making you arch your back, begging to feel more of him.

He continues placing more of the cream down further your neck to your collarbone and down to the valley of your breasts. His tongue follows the trail he makes and places a couple needy kisses further down.

Reaching towards your breaths, he grabs them gently while his thumbs rub against your hardened nipples and are replaced by his lips.

────୨ৎ────

Tutor! Zayne x Med Student! Reader

credit for this concept!: @deusfoundry ᯓᡣ𐭩

Nothing seemed to help you grasp this topic, so he knew he needed to come up with a different approach to make it stick.

tags: reader receiving, p in v, fingering

He grips waist, marking you, using you as stability to thrust into you just a bit more deeper. You’re both covered in sweat and saliva and you feel hot. Your head is spinning while your heart pounds in your chest. You don’t know how many rounds it has been and you don’t know how many questions he’ll keep up.

He reaches under you, brushing your sensitive clit with his fingers, rubbing and working you up as he plows right into you. “And what is this?”

“C-Clit-” His warm breath fans against the skin of your neck, holding your bare sticky back to his chest. “That’s it,” He coos, reaching his free hand to your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index.

“And this?”

“M-mammary papilla...” You stammer as he groans into your ear, “Good girl,”

Rafayel:

Art Teacher! Rafayel x Student! Reader

watching your boyfriend teach little kids how to paint was an adorable site to watch. After they’ve all gone home, it was just the two of you alone in the art room where it becomes a private lesson between the two of you. You're his student and he’s your teacher, teaching you things like ceramics to sketches to painting your face white.

tags: fingering, p in v

“And this is called a wet on wet brush stroke.” A soft tone yet a mischievous glint plays in his eyes. Of course he chooses this stroke for this next topic.

He hums, resting his chin on your shoulder while watching you struggle to paint. His free hand slips down your skirt to massage your clit, preparing you for his entrance. A quiet whimper escapes your lips, trying your best to focus but you knew him well enough to realize he wouldn’t make this so easy for you.

He licks his fingers and inserts them into you again, gently stretching you out while you instinctively lean back into him.

“Something on your mind, cutie?” His hot breath fans against your neck as he leans in closer, tilting his head on your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your reaction, clearly amused on how you’re trying so hard to keep yourself composed.

“R-Raf....” He feels your hands tremble against his as he gently guides yours across the canvas. A playful smirk spreads across his lips at the sound of your stutter.

His free hand that was previously on your clit slips up to your sweater, gently kneading your breasts before giving your nipple a light squeeze. He’s slowly pushing into you, burning slightly but disappears into complete pleasure.

He clicks his tongue, watching you fumble the brushstroke. “It seems my pupil is distracted again. Should I remind you what happens when you don’t pay attention?”

────୨ৎ────

Artist! Rafayel x Muse! Reader

You always try to help Raf with his paintings. Whether it was helping him take art supplies to the beach or coming alone with him to travel to new places to get inspiration or being his nude model

Rafayel steps closer to you, his height towering over you. He reaches out with his free hand to trace your jawline, ever so delicately and longing. He murmurs sweet praises, memorizing the angles of your face and how he could possibly recreate it on a canvas.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, his thumb swiping your lips to the corner of your mouth. “Art needs to be messy to truly spark creativity. Are you willing to dive into that with me?” You nod, while his other hand pumps his cock, glossing it over with his precum.

“Go ahead,”

He lets his eyelids flutter shut as he focuses on the movements you made. The way your tongue rubs the underside of his cock, and how your lips wrapped perfectly around his girth.

────୨ৎ────

Servant! Rafayel x Royalty! Reader

tags: reader receiving

“I serve you, master” He draws out the last words with a low tone, each syllable dripping with the intention of arousal. He gently grasped your hand, bringing it to rest against his cheek.

“I only serve you.” He nuzzles against your hand, keeping his gaze locked on you.

“Show me,” You whisper, your hands tightening on him while your eyes are filled with desire and curiosity. “Prove it to me that I’m the only one.” He smirks, giving your knuckles one last kiss before sliding off your lap, never removing his gaze on yours.

A smirk plays at the corners of his lips as he kisses your knuckles one last time before sliding off your lap. “If that’s your wish.” His nebula eyes locked onto yours as he settled between your legs.

He places a soft kiss on your clothed core, the dampness clearly evident. His lips travel down your thighs, peppering small kisses and small licks while fluttering his long lashes at you before moving back up to where you wanted him the most.

“Please Raf...” You whine, your fingers tangling with his soft locks. “Please what, master? What is it that you need?” He toys with the waistband of your panty, amused when you lift your hips up, practically asking to fully remove them off of you. 

“I only listen when you use your words, master.” He peers up at you from underneath, a cunning grin stretching across his lips, waiting for your command.

“I need you Raf”

His fingers slid beneath your panties. “Here?” He pulls them down, slowly peeling the thin material from your pussy down to your legs. “Or is this better?” He lifts his gaze from your crying core, mouth just inches away from you. Your eyes clenched shut as you nod.

Dragging along a maddening lick across your pussy, hitting each and every nerve you possess, earning cries of desired pleasure flooded your system.

────୨ৎ────

Bandit! Rafayel x Princess! Reader

It has been hours days since you both have spent time together and he misses you dearly. With a mischievous plan, he dresses up and sneaks into your home to take you away.

tags: slight knife play but no gore or blood is drawn, only used for anticipation

The candles flicker to life, casting a warm glow through your entire room. You catch sight of your lover, sitting by the bay window where he playfully flips a familiar dagger in his hand.

“I’ve been waiting for you, your highness,” His voice teases and with a swift motion, he removes his mask, revealing a smirk. He tucks the dagger away, approaching you slowly.

“Raf?...I-What are you doing here?” You stammer in surprise as he gently cups your face, his gaze lowering to meet yours. “I’ve come to take what belongs to me.”

“And how do you intend on doing that?” He lets out a breathy chuckle as he pulls out his dagger, causing you to swallow nervously.

He gently glides the tip of the dagger along your shirt, tearing the fabric open and making sure that it doesn’t come in contact with your skin.

Sylus:

Boss! Sylus x Subordinate! Reader

Your lover has been busy with work in your own shared home and yet you miss him and his touch so much.

You knock gently on his office door in your shared home, hearing a muffled ‘come in’ from your lover on the other side of the room. As you enter, he looks up with a warm smile before returning his attention to the paperwork scattered before him on his desk. “Sweetie, do you need something?”

You step into the room, wearing one of his long sleeves that was way oversized on you. You were there to remind him about something but seeing him like this makes you lose your train of that thought entirely. Replacing your original intentions with a new wave of something else in mind.

“You’ve been busy lately, boss,” you purred. “I’ve barely seen you....” You trailed off, biting your bottom lip as you settled yourself on his lap.

He lets out a huff of a chuckle, looking up at you and placing a hand on your back. “Ah, is my subordinate looking for trouble again?”

-

His office was filled with faint echoes of your lips smacking and shuffling of bodies on his office chair. His kisses were slow and passionate, something you’ve missed while he was busy. He pulls away to admire your disheveled state he made of you. Your hair messed up, your clothes wrinkled and a couple purple marks that he left on your neck to your chest.

────୨ৎ────

Interrogator! Sylus x Suspect! Reader

You have been taking things from Sylus to gain his attention but it seems like your plan worked a little too well for you.

tags: reader receiving, fingering

“I see my kitten has learned how to swipe things from me lately. He says, leaning casually against the doorframe of your shared bedroom, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I would never take anything from you Sy.” You reply, avoiding his gaze. He lets out a soft, breathy chuckle and pushes himself away from the door, approaching you. Before you can even think to escape, he uses his evol to pin you in place on the bed, his frame hovering over you.

“I’m giving you one last chance to confess, sweetie.”

You squirm against his evol, even though it’s no use. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You protest, earning a scoff from him. Crimson swirls around your body, making you sit up against the headboard and in one swift motion, he cuffs both of your hands to the frame.

“Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I do an inspection?” 

-

“Sy-Sylus...!” You beg, your voice now hoarse.

“Nothing seems to be in here...” He pumps his fingers harder, earning an eye-roll of pleasure from you that he finds pleasure in. Your thighs are spread out on the bed, while he’s knuckle deep. Curling his slender fingers up into a gummy spot that only he knows that makes you shudder. 

He’s so much bigger than you, in any way. His fingers reach so much deeper than yours and so much more harder.

────୨ৎ────

Masseuse! Sylus x Massage Client! Reader

one way or another you'll lose stress

tags: reader receiving, fingering

Gently he removes the towel and pulls it down just above your ass. You can feel the tips of his fingers dance across the canvas of your bare back as if he’s mapping you out. “You’re still tense, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll back the moment you feel him working on the knotted muscles of your neck. He makes his way down your back, curving his hand as you become putty on the bed, earning a deflated moan from you.

“Am I that good?” He chuckles, his fingers tracing down a line to your waist and hips. “That’s what I like to hear anyway.” If you’re lucky, he might not even notice the wet patch of arousal on your panties.

His hands glide over to the curve of your ass, the towel completely pulled down. Spoke too soon. Slowly, his palm feels the roundness of your cheeks, constantly swapping between each cheek.

With a wicked grin, he eyes the wet patch but he keeps you anticipating. His eyes never leave your crying cunt, licking his lips hungrily as he travels up your legs. Sylus murmurs sweet nothings as he caresses each swipe, threatening to creep closer and closer to your cunt.

With one swift motion, he removes your panty down your legs. “You’re so wet,” He groans, two fingers slipping up and down your slit and shifting his attention between your sensitive bud. His touch remains soft yet stimulating. Your back arches while your ass lifts higher to feel more of his hand.

────୨ৎ────

Master! Sylus x Maid! Reader

You knew you shouldn’t have made such a bold bet against Sylus after pathetically losing so many times at Kitty Cards. Now here you are meeting your own consequences, wearing a maid costume and cat ears?

tags: reader receiving, fingering, p in v eventually but i tease that hehe

“My, don’t you look adorable,” He stands behind you, his height towering over your reflection in the mirror. You catch his gaze through the glass, a teasing smirk playing on his lips that makes it clear he’s enjoying this

He loves how the short skirt compliments your figure. It was small enough that if you bent over, he would get a full view of your lace panties. His eyes lowered to the frills and the lace that sat on your chest, smirking on how the kitty ears are placed on the top of your head.

-----

“Look at yourself.” His hand cups your cheek, gently pushing it to where the mirror was standing. Your face becomes flushed at seeing your disheveled state. “Naughty girl. Don’t look away.” A playful smirk curls on his slips as you writhe against his hold, slightly tossing your head aside to give him an easier opportunity to leave more wet kisses on your neck.

“You’re doing so well for me, did you know that sweetie?” Sylus proceeds to slowly rub your clit, waiting for a pleasant reaction. He continues, stroking and rubbing at your clit in such delicious patterns, preparing you for his lengthy entrance.

[devil-in-hiding]

self indulgent but

bully!soap and his crybaby reader. except you're crying for realsies and he stops because no no he only likes his pretty thing crying from how good he makes you feel and because he's been teasing but always makes it up to you. real tears? real actual sad tears? that just won't do

but you insist that you need this, need him. they're tears from being exhausted and overwhelmed and you need your favourite bully, the best sex you've ever (and will ever, if he has anything to say about it) to fuck you proper until the tears are because he's made you cum again and your poor pussy is all puffy and messy.

need him to turn your brain off, stop those big thoughts until all you can think and feel is the way his hands and mouth mark your skin and the way his cock bullies inside of you and bruises your insides to the shape of him

- vgilantee

He notices the difference straight away. The hitch in your breath and the force of your sobs, and you’re clinging to him like if you don’t he’s going to disappear, and when he pulls away from your neck to look down at you, he is met with your sticky cheeks and a look of absolute distress on your face and his thrusts stop, hands scrambling up to cup your cheeks.

“Wha’s the matter? Did I hurt ye hen?” He asks, panic thrumming in his veins at your anguished sob, but your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper and he chokes back a gasp at the way your pussy clenches around him. “Mo ghràdh, I need ye to tell me-“

“Please don’t stop.” You force out between sobs, bringing him down for a bruising kiss that’s all tongue, and his has his head swimming as his hips slowly roll into yours, groaning at the way your puffy cunt squeezes his cock.

“I dinnae understand-“

“J-Just need you right now. Please Johnny, just need you to make it go away.” You sob, nails raking down his back as his cock kisses your sweet spot, and his heart clenches at the sound, your beautiful pleasure mixed with bone chilling anguish. He grunts, slipping one hand behind your head as he presses your foreheads together.

“I got ye, always.” He breathes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that counter the sharp thrust he gives. He starts a brutal pace, pinning you beneath him, hand fisting the hair at the base of your neck in a stinging grip, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder, digging until your scream rips through your chest, nails breaking the skin of his back as he angles his hips, fucking into you with a force that has the bed frame trembling.

“Perfect lass. My good girl.” He growls, pushing himself back up, gripping your wrists and shoving them down. “Hold em.” He barks, watching the way you obediently grip your thighs, pulling your knees to your chest and he grins, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb over your lips. He grinds his hips, clenching his teeth at the obscene squelch it makes as he fucks deeper into your sopping cunt. “J-Johnny!” You plead,tears clinging to your lashes, and he grins, reaching down with his free hand to rub tight circles around your clit.

“Hm? Wha’s that hen?” He coos, delivering a sharp slap to your cunt that has your back bending and his head spinning from the way your walls spasm around his cock. “G-Gonna-!” You cut yourself off with a gasp as he drops all his weight onto you, pinning your knees to your chest, his hand pinned between the two of you, relentless on his assault on your clit.

“Go on. Make a fuckin mess of my cock.” He pants, bullying his cock deeper and deeper as your sobs ring in his ears, cunt milking for all he’s worth as you cum, gushing around his cock as your pussy sucks him in deeper and his thrusts falter, eyes rolling back as he paints your insides white. “Fuuuucckk!” He groans, hips never stilling as he fucks the both of you through your orgasms.

He finally rolls off once his thighs start shaking, hissing as his cock slips out of your puffy cunt. You whimper, and he’s quick to swoop in, folding you into his arms as he presses you to his chest.

“Good girl, always such a good girl for me aren’t you?” He whispers, pressing gentle kisses to your temple as he rubs your back. “T-Thank you Johnny…” You whisper into his chest, and he hums, tilting your chin up. “I’ve got ye love. Always.”

[bulgingforbucky]

Helping Hand

NSFW

Warning: Eating out, Fingering, Missionary

I want the human version of big bird right neow like look at him hitting those balls when he needs to hit his balls on my ass <3

"Please just, let me show you how a man is supposed to treat you." His tongue comes in contact with your swollen clit as a gasp comes from you. Art moves with a mix of caution and nervousness gripping your thighs. He groans against your pussy as he starts to concentrate on doing a great job for you.

"You taste so good." He mumbles against your pussy as he squeezes your soft thighs. His tongue laps at your pussy desperately sucking on your clit for a second before he goes back to licking. You can hear the wetness as his mouth makes repeated contact with your achy pussy. The feeling of his slightly rough hands on your thighs feels good, they're big, and squeeze the soft flesh of your thigh as he pleasures you.

He put pressure on your slit flicking it up and down slurping softly on your wetness trying to taste more of you. Teasing he pushes his tongue more onto your slit wanting his tongue inside, your cunt pulses in response to his actions. You squirm trying to move away from the overwhelming feeling but also want to chase it, you don't know what you want. Art watches your movements closely feeling out what he should and shouldn't do, he once again slightly pushes past your slit with his warm tongue watching your reaction.

With the way you're moaning and gripping the sheets, he's taking this as a positive reaction as he slowly starts to push his tongue inside very slowly not wanting to surprise you. A small whimper comes from you as you clench on his tongue as he starts to move his tongue before pulling it out and replacing it again in a continuous cycle.

Soft groans escape your mouth as you try to grind on his face trying to satisfy your sensitivity that's coursing through your body. With the pace of the man's tongue increasing, your body jerks as your sounds of pleasure start to increase. Your thighs lock on his head as you shake, Art rarely reacts to this action as he continues his movements.

"Art I can't, it's too much." You whine as you writhe on the soft bed below you making Art chuckle against you and sending vibrations to your needy cunt. His tongue moves slightly faster as your head spins slightly. "Art please I can't." the gasps coming from you quicken looking down at him.

Your legs twitch occasionally before you squeeze his head with your thighs letting out a whine trying to push his head back. Art pulls back looking at you seeing you panting and flushed out. "Ok I'll give you a break." he whispers before his thumb makes contact with your clit as it almost immediately throbs against his finger.

Art rubs his finger in slow circles on your bud making it glisten as you moan softly. Your hips roll in need as he keeps the same pace on your sensitive bud. You beg softly for more making him look up at you, "You sure?" Art asks with caution.

God for a man to want you so bad but still nervous he'll go too far and make you uncomfortable is so hot.

You nod in desperation before his index rubs against your wet slit making your pussy clench around nothing. "Art please?" The slight beg eggs art on before he starts to push his finger inside your weeping hole. The noise you let out is small but he can hear the distress in your voice. "I know what you need." Art moves his finger as you gasp nibbling on your bottom lip moving your hips trying to get more from him.

"Your pussy is aching huh? Need relief that bad?" Art teases as you clench on his digit wanting more. "Art don't tease me." You say in a breathless tone. "I need more, right now." You look down at him seeing the desire all over his face. "Want me to fuck you? Right now?" He asks to which you immediately say yes.

Art takes off his sweatpants and then his boxers as you see his hard leaking cock. "You want this?" he asks getting on top of you. "I need it." You correct him before he leans down and kisses you before he starts to move his cock on your clit. "Art I thought I said no teasing." You moan as the small wetness starts to mix.

Art grabs his cock before he positions it toward your entrance looking at you for confirmation. You nod before Art starts to push inside as you control your breathing trying to relax. Once he is fully seated he lets you adjust before he starts prepping kissing over your face. Testing the water he slowly starts to rock against you.

Feeling him you moan as your body clamps down on him. "Oh fuck..." he exclaims getting into the rhythm. The feeling of his cock makes your core flutter around him squeezing a groan out of Art. The wetness that's heard between you two makes his cock throb inside.

"I'm guessing you like what I'm doing, right?" He asks making sure that he is satisfying you properly. "You feel good, you're so thick." Art chuckles, "Yeah? It's filling you up nice?" You nod as you try to move your hips against him. The man leans down kissing your jaw pinning you down and keeping you in place as you shudder against him leaning into his kisses.

Art's hips move back and forth as he concentrates on making you feel good with his cock. "Oh my God baby." He moans kissing you. "God you feel so good." Art moans as he rocks his hips gripping yours as he throws his head back.

"Art give it to me please, God I need your cock so bad." You beg in need as you look up at him, the grunts coming from him are such a turn-on as the wet sounds progressively get louder. His cock leaks precum inside you as he winces slightly.

"Fuck your pussy so good baby, squeezing my cock so tight." He pulls your hips to meet his as your breasts bounce from the rocking. You squirm from the feeling as you scratch his arm needing to hold something then wrapping your legs around his waist you pull him as close as you can get him.

"Jesus baby my balls are so heavy right now, they're so full of cum." Art says heavily as he grinds into you, that sentence alone makes your pussy squeeze him as you let out a whimper moaning his name. You grind on his cock trying to get more of what you're craving from him. "Right there baby like that yes." The blonde moans as he pumps his achy cock into you.

His cock starts to hit your sensitive spot as you cry out dipping your fingers into his skin. Art reacts in slight pain as he lets out a shaky breath, "Right there? That's your spot?" He asks with a slightly cocky attitude. "Yes, Art please don't stop it feels so good please." You unhook your legs from his waist spreading them wide begging him. "I got you, I'll make you cum you know I will." He reassures you as he feels you tighten around him.

"That's it baby let me hit that spot." His cock keeps hitting the same spot that makes you beg for more. Your hands shake slightly before you grab his shoulders squeezing them with all your might to keep you grounded. "I'm gonna cum." You moan as Art keeps the same pace feeling his cock twitch. "That's what I want, need you to soak my cock, make a mess." Art kisses your forehead holding you close as you repeatedly beg him to make you cum.

He keeps bumping that same spot before your hearing goes out as your cunt clamps down him on him as you release. You close your eyes as you can feel Art fuck you through your orgasm and you whine hanging onto him for dear life. Art presses both of your foreheads together as he pants. "That's it there you go baby milk my cock."

Your sensitivity levels go up after your orgasm subsides as his thrust starts to go slower trying to bring himself to the edge. You wince slightly as Art kisses you, "I know you're sensitive I'm almost there bare with me ok." He grabs your hand squeezing it as you return the gesture. The man keeps at the action as he moans before he starts to feel himself getting on the edge,

"I'm gonna going to cum, going to cum for you." Art lets a slight whine slip as his cock pulses. "Come on Art cum for me, cum inside." You encourage as Art speeds up his thrust moaning before feeling you clench one last time before he starts to cum inside you. You grind your hips helping him go through his orgasm as he shakes against you trying to push his cock deeper into you as he possibly can.

Art sighs in satisfaction before he kisses you softly and pulls out of your sore cunt. You lean into him feeling his arms wrap around you as you sigh in from the intense orgasm both of you shared.

[fuctacles]

<< 3 | 4 | 5>>

The storm comes to a head late at night in the form of knocking at his front door. It's muffled, but the space is small enough for him to hear. Confused, he closes his book to have a peek at his porch. He doesn't see anyone, but the weird knocking continues, followed by scratching. That eases his worries immediately and he opens up the door without much thought. Sure enough, his dog friend is sitting on the porch.

"What are you doing here this late?" Eddie asks, looking around as if the owner could show up out of the darkness with pitchforks and accusations. He moves to the side. "Come in, I don't think Steve wants to see me anyway. Leave as much hair as you want." Eddie smiles dryly at the dog.

Without a word, well, obviously, it's a dog, but without even a look in his direction, the dog moves towards his bedroom.

"Came in for sleepy cuddles, huh?" Eddie chuckles to himself. He latches back the door and moves towards the kitchen to grab a snack for himself and the dog. He's putting an extra slice of ham on a plate when a voice startles him, coming in from the closed doors to his bedroom.

Unmistakably human. Unmistakably Steve's.

"Uh, Eddie? Can I borrow some pants?"

Eddie's brain reruns a whole passage on mimics from his monster manual. Then on faeries and demons and goes straight into thoughts of Demogorgons. His walkie is in the bedroom.

"Eddie?"

He does the next best thing and grabs the heaviest pan he can find.

"I can hear you man," Steve's voice comes with a sigh when he approaches the door. "I swear it's me and I'm sorry for scaring you, I'll explain everything in a minute." Eddie lowers the pan. "But I'd really like to be wearing pants while I do that."

The request is weird enough to settle his nerves and finally open the door. And sure enough, there is Steve Harrington, butt-naked save for the blanket he wrapped himself in. 

"What the fuck?" Eddie risks speaking up, his grip on the panhandle tightening. He glances towards his window. It's closed and all the trinkets on the sill below remain untouched. "Where's my dog?" he asks next, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Come on, man." Steve's fingers twist in the fabric of the blanket, and his face is a picture of pure distress. 

Eddie decides to show some mercy and, not taking his eyes off the intruder, inches his way to the dresser where he fishes out that one pair of hand-me-down sweats he's never fully grown into. They should be big enough to fit Harrington's ass. If that even was him.

He throws the pants at Steve, who fumbles to catch them while keeping the blanket covering him up. They stare at each other for a long while until Steve raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

"You gonna turn around or...?"

Eddie shakes his head stubbornly. He crosses his arms for good measure, despite the pan making it awkward and uncomfortable.

"I'm only half convinced you're not a mimic. Or a Vecna hallucination. So no, I'm not turning my back on you," he scoffs.

Steve's eyes widen at the mention of their last demonic opponent. He seems to understand Eddie's reservations a little bit better. 

"I swear I'm not," he says softer, looking guilty for scaring his friend even further than he already had. "I'm sorry for freaking you out," he continues, turning around himself. The blanket drops and Eddie never had another butt-ass naked man in his bedroom before. Golden boy Steve, too, among his band posters and trailer trash glory? A truly poetic sight. 

"I just had to come clean."

Steve bends over and the sweats don't get pulled up fast enough for Eddie to miss the twin moles on his right cheek.

He turns back around quickly, scratching his forearm self-consciously.

"Dustin's right, I'm just making it more difficult than it has to be."

Okay, so maybe involving Henderson didn't backfire as badly as Eddie feared. On the other hand, he had half-naked Steve Harrington, squirming uncomfortably at his place, so it was hard to tell. 

"Well, I'm here and listening, so you can go any moment now," Eddie prompts him, leaning against his desk. He observes Steve open and close his mouth hesitantly, and rolls his eyes. "Okay, kitchen," he commands, straightening up. When Steve doesn't move, he points at the door with his pan. "You go first, I don't trust that you're not gonna turn into something else."

Steve has made half a step when his eyes widen.

"You figured it out?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, pan twisting in his grip half-threateningly. 

"So you are a mimic?"

"I don't know what a mimic is!" Steve groans, frustrated. "I just turn into a dog."

At first Eddie's ready to scoff, maybe throw the pan at him, but as he studies Steve's expression, he frowns. Slowly, he connects the dots in his brain.

"You've been the dog all this time?"

Steve nods.

"That's why I never saw you? Because you were right there, turned into a fucking dog?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah," Steve admits, folding in on himself like he wanted to disappear.

Eddie puts the pan aside and starts pulling his rings off, one by one. Steve eyes him warily, and it takes him a moment to speak up.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

Eddie looks him calmly in the eye.

"I'm going to punch you now, and I don't want to cut you up."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble

[moonstruckme]

My stomach hurts so bad!! I feel so sick Bb do u think u could write a fic with James or Steve with a super sick gf???

I'm sorry about your stomach babe! Hopefully you're feeling much better by now, thank you for requesting

cw: food poisoning (no vom or anything, just mentioned)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 615 words

You whine, curling in on yourself like you can squash your insides into numbness. “I feel so gross,” you whine. 

“You are pretty gross,” Steve replies, knuckles running up and down your arm. 

You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, appalled. “You’re not supposed to agree with me!” 

“What?” Your boyfriend gives you a disbelieving look. “I didn’t say you were hideous, but you are definitely grosser than usual. Like, if we’re taking you on your best day, this is at least thirty percent more gross than that. I can’t agree with that?” 

“No!”

“In that case, I think you’re delirious with fever, babe. I never said anything about you being gross.” 

Despite yourself, a reluctant little chuckle puffs out of you. Steve grins. 

“Even if you were gross,” he drags his palm down the length of your back, letting it curve over your hip to your thigh before starting back in the other direction, “you’d still be way hotter than anyone else I’ve ever seen. It’s only fair that you get gross every now and then. You know, to make everyone else feel better.” 

“I don’t think everyone else is that worried about it,” you say. 

“That’s where I think you’re wrong. Think about it: we eat at the same place we go to all the time, and only you get food poisoning? That’s not chance, that is a planned attack.” 

You look up at him amusedly. “You think this was an assassination attempt?” 

“I mean, without the killing part, probably, but yeah.” 

You hum, settling back in on his lap. “You’re starting to sound like your nerd friends.” 

Steve’s mouth drops open playfully. “I am not! And anyway, if you tune out Wheeler’s brother, sometimes they’re making some good points.” 

You start to smile just before another cramp seizes your middle, rolling through you with a wave of nausea. Steve’s grip on you tightens as your eyes screw shut. 

“Shit.” He sounds part sympathetic and part like he might be in pain himself, one hand worming underneath your arms to rub at your stomach. “I’m sorry, baby. I know it sucks. All we can do is ride it out, and it should be gone by morning.” 

You make a small, distressed sound. “We don’t even know if it’s food poisoning.” 

“Nah, it is.” 

Steve’s massaging helps, and gradually the pain lessens. You take deep breaths until you can think clearly again. 

“How are you so sure?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “It’s just the only thing that makes sense. You’re just getting whatever it was out of your system. You’ll be good as new soon, just you wait.” 

You shoot him a dubious look. “What, you think you’re a doctor now?” 

“No, but I kinda look like I could play one on TV, right?” At your bewildered silence, Steve goes on, his hand still moving gently over your stomach. “I’m just saying, have you ever seen those soap operas in the hospitals? If they came out to Hawkins to do their casting calls, I’d be snatched up in a hot second, babe.” 

You study him. Steve is undeniably handsome, this isn’t new information. He has a firm brow paired with sweetheart eyes and mussable hair, plus a classical sort of bone structure that’s humanized by the odd blemish or mole. Nice skin and a nicer smile. Good hands, too, one of which is currently caressing your hurting stomach while the other plays with the ends of your hair. 

“Nope,” you say, completely lovestruck. “I don’t see it.”

“That’s okay.” Steve gives the pudge of your stomach a gentle squeeze. “It’s just the fever getting to you again.”

[bloodibambiidoll]

𖤐 A Dreaded Summer Day 𖤐

𓉸ྀི Kinktober Day 2 Eddie Munson ⟢ Voyeurism/Breeding 𓉸ྀི

Warnings: Outside sex, unprotected sex, switch!Eddie, switch!reader, breeding kink, alternative!fem!reader, lil bit of degradation and spanking, 69ing, Jacob’s ladder piercing, no physical descriptions of reader besides her outfit, Eddie & reader being sooo in luv. The kink WAS spanking originally but subby!Eddie took the wheel and I changed it around 18+MDNI

You and Eddie hardly ever go on “conventional” dates and tonight is no exception. The warm September days were fading into autumn nights and your boyfriend figured what better time for a midnight cemetery picnic? He filled your vintage picnic basket you found at the thrift store with all your favorite treats and then stopped on the way for a pizza for the two of you to share. He spread out a thick blanket under a big willow tree and even made you a brand new mix tape and brought his boombox for mood music. The leaves were starting to change, even a few starting to fall on the grass that was getting more and more brown by the day. The breeze that whooshed through the air smelled like the promise of rain in the next few days and the full moon was shining perfectly in the cloudless sky above you. It also doesn’t hurt that you have your gorgeous boyfriend with you.

Eddie looks so good tonight. It’s one of those rare occasions where he’s traded his usual black jeans for a pair of distressed blue ones. His curly mane was a bit messier than usual due to the long, late evening nap the two of you took together so he threw it in a low bun. On top he has on an Alice and chains zip up he got at a concert the two of you went to last year and you know for a fact the only thing he has underneath it is one of those tight black tanks that drive you crazy. He of course has his chains on his pants, chunky rings, and the newest addition to his daily accessories being the chain with your first initial hanging from it right along with his guitar pick necklace. All in typical Eddie fashion. The nose ring he got a few days ago was just the cherry on top of how fucking sexy he looks sitting under the moonlight.

“Quit staring at me like that.” Eddie chuckles and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Like what?” You say it in a sing-song tone as you cross your ankles and rest your chin on your hands while you lay on your stomach across from him.

“You’re looking at me like you’re trying to make me telepathically bust a nut or something.” You bat your lashes at him as you start to kick your feet back and forth behind you in mock innocence.

“And? Is it working?” You jokingly wiggle your eyebrows and your ass his way, playing into his joke.

“If you keep it up, it just might, princess.” Eddie leans down and gives you a kiss on the head before playfully slapping your jean clad ass. A low whimper slips past your lips and it makes your boyfriend give you an inquisitive look that quickly turns into a nearly diabolical grin. “Oh?”

“Eddieee, don’t make it a thing, okay?” You groan and roll onto your back, throwing your hands up dramatically before letting them fall to your sides. “It’s not my fault you brought me on this cute ass date to one of my favorite places, you look like that, and now you’re slapping my ass. You’re the one being a slut.”

“Oh, yeah?” Without warning Eddie abruptly grips your hips to flip you back onto your back and smacks your ass with more power behind it than before. You can’t hold in the little yelp that drowns out into a moan when he spanks you again. “I think you’re the one being a slut, baby. I was trying to be all romantic and you’ve been practically eye fucking me since we were in the van…”

“I just don’t understand how you could think bringing me here in the middle of the night wasn’t going to make me horny?” You huff and roll around onto your back again so you can look up at your boyfriend who is kneeling above you, looking down at you smugly. Eddie’s eyes twinkle with lust and mischief as his hands come down to grip onto your wrists before he leans down into your face and straight up laughs. “Are you serious? This was your plan all along? You’re so annoying.”

“Hey, don’t get all bratty on me now, doll.” Eddie leans down and runs his nose along the column of your throat, inhaling the sweet vanilla cherry scent you always wore. “I wanted to treat you nice n sweet tonight. But if you want to give me an attitude I can bend you over my knee right here, right now.”

Your boyfriend is perfect, truly. The fact that he planned to bring you out here and make love to you all sweet under the full moon is one of the main reasons you love him. But right now? You feel like seeing how far you can push his buttons. You manage to wrap your legs around his hips enough to use the element of surprise and flip him on his back. You straddle him, your hands pinning him to the ground even though you know he could easily break free.

“What are you gonna do about it, Munson?” You grind down on him and let out this cute little giggle and Eddie swears he had every intention of throwing you over his knee and spanking you until your ass was raw. But god, you look so fucking beautiful straddling his lap with the moonlight illuminating down on you. Your hair is mused from having the windows down in the van and your black eyeliner smudged eyes are nearly glowing while your blackberry painted lips are quirked into this damn near bewitching smirk. You are wearing this loose fitting off shoulder long sleeve that shows off your bra straps and his favorite pair of black jeans that hug your body perfectly. The way you’re angled has your shirt riding up enough to show off your studded belt and black thong and it’s all enough to have Eddie nearly melting into the ground.

“God, anything you want, baby girl.” Eddie’s voice is sweet like honey and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes. You’re no stranger to taking control in the bedroom, it just wasn’t the direction you were expecting tonight to go. You’re not mad at it though. “Your wish is my command, truly.”

“Yeah? You gonna let me ride your fat cock? right here in the graveyard? You really are a slut tonight, huh?” Eddie whimpers and you feel his cock harden against your Jean clad pussy as you grind down on him.

“God, yes. Fucking please.” And what kind of person would you be to make him beg when he just looks so pretty underneath you? You stand so you can kick off your boots before reaching to undo your belt and then slowly start to pull off your jeans. You make a real show of it, wiggling them down your hips inch by agonizing inch, turning around to show off the way your ass looked when you pulled it free from the tight material, bending over extra as you pushed them down your legs. Eddie leans over and laces his thick ringed hand around your ankle before running his tongue along your calf while looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Please use me, baby.”

You pull your leg from his grasp in a swinging motion and plant your foot in the middle of his chest and Eddie swears he’s going to bust in his pants when you press the pad of your foot down into him, pinning him to the ground. More mentally than physically but it honestly just makes your pussy even wetter knowing that he could break free of you so easily, yet he doesn’t.

“Be a good boy and take that pretty cock out for me then.” You press on his chest again for emphasis before running your foot up his collar bones, neck, and finally along his cheek. You caress his stubble with your pretty black painted toes before pushing them down on his face, effectively pressing his cheek into the blanketed ground beneath him.

“Oh, fuuuckkk yes, fucking step on me, princess.” Eddie’s eyes roll back and he moans as he reaches for his pants and hastily undoes them along with his belt. He pushes them down his hips to his knees all while you crush his face into the blanket with your soft soled foot. You were fully ready to ride Eddie’s cock until he was dripping down your thighs but the minute it springs free you need it in your mouth. It’s so thick, the tip red and angry with precum that’s glistening from the light of the moon dripping down it and every time you see the ladder of barbells down his shaft it reminds you how worth those weeks of not having him inside you were. Because, god, do they feel so fucking good rubbing against your soft inner walls.

So you kneel down and straddle his face, reverse cowgirl and take his cock as far down your throat as you can in one go. Eddie hardly has time to process what’s happening before your hot mouth is enveloping him and your dripping thong covered pussy is inches from his face. God, he fucking loves you. He takes the hint and laces his arms around your thighs, pushes your panties to the side and shoves his face between your legs, eating your pussy like a man starved. He sucks your clit into his mouth and thrusts two fingers into your wet walls all while you practically swallow his cock whole, your tongue running along the piercings down his shaft with each bob of your head. The sensitivity of the bars on his cock cause him to twitch inside your mouth with each stroke of your pink muscle.

“Oh, yes, so fucking good, such a good fucking boy for me, Eddie. You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.” You pull off Eddie’s cock when he adds a third finger inside you before curling them deliciously against your sweet spot while you grind down on his face. His teeth catch your clit and pinch down on it and that’s all it takes a blistering explosion of pleasure washing over your body. Your legs clamp around his head and your hand is squeezing Eddie’s cock so tight he swears he’s going to come right along with you but seconds later you’re lifting off of him and flipping over to kiss him messily. He tastes like you, cigarettes, and sour gummy worms and you wish you could devour him and embed his essence in your very soul.

“I need to be inside you, baby, please.” Eddie whines against your mouth and it makes your clit thump all over again. You straddle him and grab his cock so you can line him up with your entrance and then you’re slamming down onto him until your hips are flush against his. You moan in unison at the feeling of him stretching you out. You can feel each and every one of his cock piercings as your tight walls practically suck him in. “God, you’re so fucking tight, so perfect. You look like a goddamn moon goddess.”

You start to bounce on his cock with reckless abandon. Your pussy is so wet it echoes off the trees and stones around you as your hips smack together with the force of your thrusts. Eddie pushes your shirt up over your head and you reach around to unhook your bra so your tits can fall free. You yank down the zipper of his hoodie and push up his tank top so you can run your nails down his tattooed chest and abs, leaving red marks in your wake.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer baby, you gotta come for me.” Eddie groans and plants his feet on the ground firmly while grabbing onto your ass in one hand and finding your clit with his other so he can pound into you deep and fast while rubbing your slick bud. It has your walls clenching around him and it only takes a few more pumps of his hips to have you gushing on his cock.

“Oh, fuck! Eddie, baby, yes, I’m coming - I’m coming!” You throw your head back as you let out these pornographic moans that are like music to Eddie’s ears and your tits are bouncing so beautifully it makes Eddie’s cock twitch deep inside you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” You wrap your hands around Eddie’s neck and lean down to lick his sweaty cheek before running your lips along the shell of his ear.

“Give me your fucking cum, Eddie. I want it so deep it will be dripping out tomorrow. Put a baby in me.” And your words have his balls tightening and his load emptying inside of you while he grips onto your ass with his hips raised off the ground, pressed against yours.

“Oh god, fuck, you’re so beautiful. Gonna give you a baby, anything you want.” Eddie babbles while his dick continues to twitch inside you and he fills you with ropes and ropes of his cum. After a moment he goes limp underneath you and you let yourself roll off of him onto your side with your head on his chest.

“Did you mean that?” Your voice is barely a whisper as your fingers toy with the little initial around your boyfriend’s neck. His large hand comes up to smooth the hair on the back of your head before cupping your cheek, getting you to look at him.

“About giving you anything you want? Even a baby?” You nod up at him with big wide eyes and he can’t help but chuckle at how cute you are. Not very long ago you were stepping on his face and now you’re practically melting in his arms. “Of course, angel. You want a baby?”

“I mean - I know we haven’t talked about it really all that much but -“ Eddie cuts you off with a light shush and a gentle press of his fingertips to your lips.

“Do you want a baby?” His voice is matter of fact and his face is serious, but in a calming way. A reassuring way that feels like a warm cup of Apple cider after getting lost in a corn maze. It trickles down your spine and warms up your insides like sugary sweet liquid in only a way Eddie can.

“Yes.” You let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding for months and his face lights up, he flips you over onto your back and hovers over you with that bright, goofy, signature Eddie smile that just makes you melt even more than you ever thought possible.

“Then, let’s have a baby, beautiful.”

Tagging some mooties who I think might be interested: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @eddiesxangel @gri959 @dreamliners @littlexdeaths @myherometalhead @take-everything-you-can @myspacebrat

Divider is by @strangergraphics

[steddielations]

nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.” 

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up. 

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.” 

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror. 

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—” 

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently. 

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

[ghostandsoap]

Sitting Pretty

Captain John Price x Fem! Reader Tags: Smut. Cockwarming. Price is being mean. Word Count: 1.0k "You're doing just fine, my love."

"John, please." Your lip had the slightest quiver to it when you spoke.

A cheeky, proud grin spread on the man's face, his eyes closed both from exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Don't whine, princess. You're alright." John's thumbs rubbed in sweet, soft circles over your waist that was in his hands.

You huffed at his response, which earned a small laugh from him.

The mattress of his bed felt indescribably amazing to his tired bones and muscles. John had expressed to you that he was worn out, which wasn't surprising given the stress of the mission that he had just returned home from earlier in the day.

It was difficult for John to wind down and take a load off after such a hard job. The pressure and trauma of his job wasn't something that he could just turn off whenever he wanted to.

He needed to ease himself into feeling relaxed...comfortable and safe even. When he suggested this as his means of un-stressing himself before bed, you were all over it.

But it was proving to be a bit harder than you originally bargained for.

His cock was buried deep inside you. His tip was pressing against a bundle of nerves far within you, which was intoxicating yet frustrating when he was restraining you from moving at all.

However, that didn't stop you from trying.

His eyes opened briefly at the feeling of you trying to rise and sink back down onto him, his eyes rolling into his head before his eyelids closed again.

You were soaked, the insides of your thighs and John's lap and lower stomach proved that. His cock was sopping from where it rested inside of you, twitching every once in awhile from the stimulation.

The sight of you falling to pieces and desperate for him was almost enough for him to give in from this little charade of his. Seeing you breathing heavy and practically shaking with anticipation was almost enough to make him feel bad.

Almost.

"Mmh. Quit moving so much," His hands gripped your hips tighter to keep you seated on his lap. "Sit still."

"John, please," You begged again. "I want you to fuck me."

Your right hand felt heavy on your thigh where it rested and laid flat. Your left hand was gripping the hem of John's t-shirt that you were dressed in, just barely covering your naked lower half.

"I thought you liked feeling me like this?" He teased.

His tone was in a mocking way. He wanted you to beg for it.

"I do, I promise, but..." You whimpered when he shifted his hips underneath you, causing your voice to crack when you spoke next. "I don't know what you want me to do."

A low chuckle rumbled out of his chest. Not an ounce of sympathy in his voice or on his expression.

"I just want you to keep looking pretty while sitting on my cock," He purred. "You're doing just fine, my love."

You never ached for him this bad before. When he was gone and off saving the world, there were certainly times where you were beside yourself with physically craving him and emotionally pining for him.

But this was so much worse because he was actually here and could take care of you.

John would've loved nothing more than to hold you steady and upright while you bounced on his cock and made a mess of yourself, but he was getting too much enjoyment out of making you squirm.

"Look at you..." He hummed, opening his eyes just long enough to get a good look at you. "So so beautiful sitting up on my lap."

He didn't get a reply from you, and when he felt all of your muscles relax and your body go limp, his eyes snapped open. He noticed you weren't fighting it anymore, eyes blurred with tears and filled with hurt.

"Oh, oh darling..." He sighed sympathetically, his hands moving to rest on the tops of your thighs. "You need my cock that bad?"

You nodded desperately, a pitiful sniff sounding from your chest.

John knew he had pushed you too far. No amount of fun in the bedroom was worth making you genuinely distressed and upset. He couldn't stand to see you cry, and that was the number one way to make his tough guy appearance dissolve.

John maneuvered to sit up against the headboard, his cock hitting you at an even better angle.

"Hey, hey..." He cooed, bringing his lips to your forehead to press a kiss there. "I'm sorry. Please don't cry, my love."

He watched your expression as he lifted you off of his cock just enough before sinking you back down, his hips rolling up to thrust into you. You visibly shuddered, a whimpered plea for more sounding from you.

"How's that feel?" He said through a groan. "That feel good?"

His breathing was getting quicker, and his movements to fuck into you were getting involuntary. He chuckled when you nodded, wiping at the last of your tears.

"Alright, baby. I'm gonna let you have your way with me," He pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth when you began to rock back and forth against his cock. "Fuck."

His grin was blinding, his hands holding your body as close to his as humanly possible because he did not want you to stop. He probably would've deserved it if you did stop, but you were too good to him to do that.

"You're going to be the death of me." He groaned, his mouth falling open at the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

For a moment he wondered why he would ever deprive himself of this, even if it was entertaining to watch you fall apart for him. Your arousal further drenched his lap and the tops of his thighs, the sound of you slamming onto him making his head go fuzzy.

You couldn't help but give a soft laugh that turned into a breathy moan when he buried his face in your breasts, kissing and biting at whatever he could get his mouth around.

This was a much better stress reliever for both of you, and you knew you could have it any time that you asked.

And that was something worth taking advantage of.

"That makes two of us."

[porcelian]

⌕ search result ＞ ʬʬ dc ＞ six tabs open !

⎙ tab. 01 ░ jason todd/reader ⤸

⟢ one-shots ⤸

ʬʬ rouge in his hands | smut

There you stand, on the edge of the dance floor. The golden filigree of the ivory floor glows beneath your feet. The crystal chandelier casts a shimmering light upon your dewy skin. The rouge-colored velvet fabric flows across your frame like waves in a calm sea.

He almost chokes on his breath.

ʬʬ coffee and pistols for two? | fluff

His intrusive thoughts wrap around his mind and blinden his eyes like a blindfold, cutting off his senses in a way that he doesn’t notice the shuffling of your feet against the wooden floor, he doesn’t notice you now standing in front of him. He hears you first.

ʬʬ tangled in red | fluff

Your hands grip the jacket closer as you curl into the leather even more, taking in the warmth and feel of him. Red. On you. His red.

ʬʬ tricks, treats and together | fluff

request: Jason and Reader take Damian trick-or-treating and get mistaken for as his parents.

ʬʬ 16, clumsy and shy | fluff

“Searching for something?—” Jason's ears perk up as he hears Bruce's calculated words. Calculated in a way he knows that his dad is trying not to sound obvious that he has figured out the fact that something or a certain someone is tugging at his son's heart. “—or someone?”

ʬʬ a sight so sweet | fluff

request: hello! i went to a party today and i kept thinking about jason. well, i think he'd be the kind of partner who'd watch you from afar to make sure you're okay, he'd definitely have access to your location 24 hours for his own peace of mind. ... anyway, could you write something based on that? xx

ʬʬ you're my man (of bright light) | fluff

request: Okay, but Jason taking the his secret girlfriend to the fair, they're having a good time playing games, winning prizes, eating funnel cake, when they run into the bat fam.

ʬʬ oh, take me back (to the night we met) | angst + comfort

request: Reader meets/is with Jay after he becomes Red Hood. After finding out that he used to be Robin, she recalls an interaction she had years ago with the Boy Wonder, unaware that they would paths again years later.

ʬʬ tongue tied | fluff

request: Reader teasing Jason over his blushing. You can decide whether they're in an established or pre-established relationship.

ʬʬ damsels in distress | fluff

request: hi there! was wondering if you could write a lil something about reader consuming a bunch of horror movies and getting scared and jason ends up teasing reader for it?

ʬʬ hero for a day | fluff

Jason's—or rather, the Red Hood's—all-too-recognizable helmet rests temptingly on the dresser. A little too temptingly. An idea quickly forms in your mind—a truly devious idea.

ʬʬ lilac-blossoms & book stands | fluff

"Though, after I read this and you finish your book, I'd love to hear what you think." Your hands grip the book tighter, you're so nervous. Calm down. "Same place? In a few weeks, maybe?" "O–oh, I will, I mean." He straightens his posture, "I mean, of course."

ʬʬ plushies & cuddles | fluff

The realization that a plushie was currently hoarding his well-deserved cuddles after a long day didn’t sit right with him.

ʬʬ cookies & bake-offs | fluff

It's the faint sound of your soft voice humming that catches his attention first. His ears perk up, and he turns his head toward the sound. Then, the faint smell of warm chocolate fills his nose. You must be baking.

ʬʬ furry new beginnings | fluff

Jason stared at the tabby for a few moments, then at you, with your big smile and pleading eyes staring back at him.

ʬʬ carnation letters | fluff

For you, those gestures came in the form of carnations, delicate and vibrant, appearing at the most unexpected times.

ʬʬ poisoned wells | angst

"Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined." – Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

ʬʬ offered tenderness | fluff

He thanked you every time in his mind for trusting him with this piece of you.

⟢ drabbles ⤸

ʬʬ demisexual + touchstarved ! jason todd

ʬʬ up late at night

ʬʬ wandering hands

⟢ prompts ⤸

ʬʬ frozen peas pressed against bruised skin | fluff

ʬʬ folktale | fluff

⟢ blurbs ⤸

ʬʬ phantom of the opera ! jason todd

⟢ headcanons ⤸

ʬʬ how he loves | fluff

request: Hi! Can you please write headcanons 'how he loves' for Dick and Jason like you did for Damian?

⎙ tab. 02 ░ damian wayne/reader ⤸

⟢ headcanons ⤸

ʬʬ how he loves | fluff

request: hi author!! wanted to just make an ask to see if you would write something with damian? if it's okay with you, may it be sfw and romantic? hc's or not, whatever you prefer!!

⎙ tab. 03 ░ dick grayson /reader ⤸

⟢ headcanons ⤸

ʬʬ how he loves | fluff

Hi! Can you please write headcanons 'how he loves' for Dick and Jason like you did for Damian?

⎙ tab. 04 ░ tim drake/reader ⤸

currently empty.

⎙ tab. 05 ░ duke thomas/reader ⤸

currently empty.

⎙ tab. 06 ░ stephanie brown/cassandra cain ⤸

⟢ one-shots ⤸

halcyon | fluff + smut

request: The prompt I had in mind was their wedding day, especially ceremony. Going through all the stages of the day (getting ready > ceremony > reception > wedding night 🫣), could be through quick snapshots with bigger focus on the ceremony in the middle because I think it's the cutest part <33 if you don't want to do all of those focus on ceremony.

⟢ miscellaneous ⤸

moodboards

batfamily twitter au

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[httpdwaekki]

airport | s.c.

summary: the airport could be overstimulating, but binnie (and chan's headphones) are there to help you through it.

wc: 937

a/n: last n final week of binnie month w/ @straykeedz :/ as sad as i am that it's over, thank u for doin this w me <3 based of this video of binnie n seung i saw :3 very special thank u to my bubba @giddyfatherchris for helping my write this, ily<3. anyway, i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library | bee's vers. | bee | binnie month | fundraiser

(pictures not mine! credit to owners!)

you weren’t a fan of public places, especially the airport.

too many people, too much noise, and everyone in a rush with no care for personal space. now on top of that you have to deal with the floods of cameras and crazed fans yelling for your boyfriend.

you’ve been together for a few now so you’ve learned things to help you throughout the years. however they don’t help as much when you forget your headphones and everything else that could go wrong does.

you felt like you were suffocating in your clothes, heat gripping every inch of your skin as people push and crowd you. you could feel the lump in the back of your throat as you clench your fist as you finally make it into the building.

changbin was holding your other hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it, reminding you he was there. you felt slightly better being in the air conditioned building but that didn’t help the sound, in fact in only felt amplified.

as you approach the security checkpoint he takes notice of the distress in your body language. it was at this point he also notices the lack of headphones over your ears. once you reach the line he leans over to you.

“where’s your headphones baby?” changbin whispers in your ear. “i forgot them.” you respond, keeping your tears at bay. “i have mine in my bag, do you think you can wait until we get inside for me to get them for you?” you nod, focusing on your entwined hands.

he squeezes your hand before letting go, he gently wraps his hands around your neck, pulling you into him. you lay your head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief as he placing a kiss to your hair.

“we’re almost there bunny, just a little while longer, okay?” you nod, taking a deep breath before pulling away, moving up in the line. you place your head back on his shoulder, focusing on your breathing.

while distracted, chan makes eye contact w bin, silently asking what’s wrong? he points to your head, and chan understands immediately. he quickly and carefully takes the headphones around his neck off handing them to bin.

he smiles before taking them. he squeezes your hand, trying to get your attention. you pull back, quickly wiping your eyes as a few tears slipped out.

“channie hyung gave me his headphones for you, i’m gonna put them on, okay?” you quickly look at the object in his hand before turning around to look at the older man but to find him moving up with the rest of the boys.

you nod before he slips them on your head, instantly filled with relief as the environment around you becomes muffled. “good?” you read his lips, giving him a small smile and nodding. he grabs your hand once more, moving you up in the line to catch up with the rest of the boys.

once you make it through security, everyone makes their way to one of the restaurants except you and changbin. changbin gives them your orders, before you head to your gate. you were thankful as you walked up to the gate that it’s in an isolated and quiet part of the airport.

you set your bags down, taking a seat before taking chan’s headphones off, setting them carefully on your lap. “how are you feeling?” he asks, carefully taking stuff out of his bag. “better now, thanks to you and chan.” you smile, watching as he pulls out a handheld fan and his headphones.

“ here you go baby.” your eyes well up once again as you grab the objects. feeling overwhelmed at just how sweet your boyfriend was. “i’m sorry i didn’t realize you did have your headphones earlier, i would’ve gotten them out in the car.” he smiles sadly.

you shake your head, “no, it was my fault for forgetting mine but thank you for taking care of me,” you place the objects in your lap as well, grabbing his hand, placing a kiss to the back of it, “ you calmed me down before channie gave me his headphones, so thank you baby.” he smiles, squeezes your hand.

“you never have to thank me for that, it’s my job as your partner.” it was his turn to kiss your hand before placing everything back in his bag. you place his headphones around your neck before turning on the fan, relaxing back into the seat.

bin leans over to you, pulling out his phone and giving it to you to pick out a movie. as your scrolling through your choices the boys walk over carrying 9 bags of food. chan walks over handing changbin 2 bags before setting his bags across from the both of you.

“how are you feeling?” chan asks before sitting down.” better.” you smile before grabbing his headphones, handing them back to him. “and thank you for these, i really appreciate it, they really helped.” he grabs the item, placing them on his backpack.

“it’s no problem, glad i could help.” he smiles before opening his bag of food. bin hands your bag of food, “i had them get your favorite and there’s a water in there too.” you smile at him once again, your heart swelling at the love you have for the man next to you.

“ thank you binnie,” you place a kiss to his cheek as he gives you a cute smile. luckily the rest of the day went smoothly, but even if it didn’t you had binnie to help you through it out.