#just don’t know how to write it in a flawless way

[thedissonantverses]

This is related to this post which is so on point it hurts. I wasn’t going to write this but yet another one of my mutuals had someone be super racist again directly to their asks so here we go.

I go super hard on the Veilguard positivity a lot not out of an urge to stan for BioWare but because parts of the fandom have gotten so unbelievably toxic I’m not even sure why they’re still playing the games. Legit if you’re actively in mourning about this franchise because of a, at worst, competent game you need to find something else to do. I have been told I don’t know how many times I just don’t like “critique” of Veilguard which is fecking hilarious and I should show you my dm’s. You’re not actually showing “love” for the DA franchise when you’re overly negative and reductionist.

We absolutely should be able to critique Veilguard and I do attempt to do this from time to time. But to be honest we can’t even discuss the actions of the antagonist in an honest way. It is actually laughable how far away from the source people have gone when analyzing this game and its characters. It might be my favorite game in the series but that in no way makes it perfect or flawless and I’m aware. Not gonna share the critiques here cause y’all can’t handle the base plot of the game without bullying other fans.

I keep seeing people complain about the lack of fan engagement and fanworks while directly being the reason artists and writers don’t want to be anywhere near the space. Again if you’re not commenting or reblogging or otherwise supporting other creators in the fandom you are the problem I’m talking about. If you’re being super vitriolic then yeah, no one wants to make stuff for you for free. They’re too afraid or exhausted and we are all culpable, myself included.

The media literacy problem, the bigotry, and the lack of engagement are all related issues and until the most vitriolic amongst us reckon with that nothing will get better. And yeah, if you’re going super hard against a game that stands this hard by its queer, disabled, and POC characters that’s a huge red flag. Unpack it. Offline. Away from the marginalized members of your fandom.

[chateaunoirsims]

X Diego Martinez

Changed some of his tattoos but I love him sm already. My lil firecracker. He’s also a character in my upcoming voice over series : RESONANCE

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

[lilreidgirl]

Perfect

Summary: You`re insecure and your boyfriend, Spencer, thinks the absolute world of you, he trys everything to make you see what he sees.

Warnings: fem!reader, insecure reader, bad body image, comparing to fictional charecters, kissing, hurt/comfort?, not proof read, if i forgot anything; let me know, English is not my first language

WC: ~1k

A/N: I won`t be posting for about the next two weeks cause i have three exams, once exam season finally ends, Ill be able to post my many ideas that just seem to keep on coming. Until then, here`s a short Spence hurt/comfort fic MWAH

Perfect.

A word that feels as foreign to me as an alien language. It’s something I’m definitely not. No one is perfect, of course. But I feel like I’m standing several miles farther from it than most.

Spencer calls me a lot of things: beautiful, pretty, cute, smart, hot, exquisite, funny, tantalizing, sexy, insatiable. The list is endless. If it’s complimentary, he’s said it at some point.

Except perfect.

Spencer is a man of science and logic, and logic dictates that perfection doesn’t exist. It’s an unattainable ideal, a concept too flawless to have a place in a messy world like ours. And yet, standing next to him—this near-perfect person—I feel the ache of falling so much shorter than the mark.

There are people, though, who seem to come dangerously close.

One of the many things I love about Spencer is his love for books. He reads endlessly, often with the same devotion he gives to solving puzzles or understanding the human mind. He’ll bury himself in stories until his eyes droop, refusing to let fatigue stop him from finishing just one more chapter. And I know the women in those books, how they’re described: Silky hair, impossibly soft skin, hypnotic eyes, lips meant to be kissed, figures sculpted to perfection, and smiles bright enough to light up the darkest corners.

That’s what perfection looks like, isn’t it?

It’s certainly not me.

I see myself every day in the mirror. No silky hair here—just strands that seem to have their own rebellious personality, refusing to fall in place no matter what I do. My skin? Far from flawless. My eyes? Ordinary, nothing mesmerizing about them. My lips are… lips. Not the kind poets write about. My body? Just a body. Functional. Unremarkable. My smile doesn’t light up rooms; at most, it’s enough to convey, Hi, I’m friendly, please don’t ask me for directions.

Yet somehow, here I am, dating Spencer Reid—a man who feels carved by the hands of something divine. It’s almost painful, how unfairly beautiful he is. I’ve searched for his flaws, scoured every inch of his personality, his quirks, his habits. Nothing. If they’re there, they’re too small for me to see. He’s just… him. Perfect in all the ways that I’m not.

Two soft knocks on the door break me out of my spiraling thoughts. They’re gentle yet deliberate, spaced so perfectly it feels like they were timed with precision. Of course, they were. This is Spencer we’re talking about. Even his knocks are perfect.

I drag myself toward the door, feeling the weight of my imperfections in every step. My fingers fidget with the hem of my sweater as I go. It’s oversized and rumpled, the fabric hanging well past my wrists. My sweatpants cling stubbornly to my thighs but sag around my ankles. I’m a mess, right down to the fluffy socks that glide across the floor I haven’t bothered to clean in three weeks.

When I open the door, the sight of him steals my breath as it always does. Spencer.

His hair is perfectly disheveled, a chaotic tumble of curls that somehow looks intentional. His features are sharp, striking, and utterly unfair. His eyes hold the kind of depth that makes you feel like he sees every part of you, even the parts you’d rather keep hidden.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft and warm, and that smile—the one that makes me feel like I’m standing in the sun—graces his lips.

“Hey,” I manage, though my voice feels embarrassingly small in comparison.

“I missed you so much,” he says, stepping inside before I can respond. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a hug that feels like home. He lifts me slightly, spinning us in a slow circle, and I can’t help but laugh softly at the gesture.

“Me too,” I whisper, the words barely audible as my lips brush against his neck. When he sets me down, I press a kiss to his lips. It’s brief but firm, enough to feel the spark between us ignite.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes roaming my face. His pupils are wide, the dim light of my apartment making them expand until they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks at me like I’m something precious, something worth studying and memorizing.

“God,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with something I can’t quite name. “You’re perfect.”

The air leaves my lungs. For a moment, it feels like the world has tilted on its axis. I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. My thoughts are spinning, but all I can focus on is him, standing here, calling me perfect.

Could perfection exist after all? Maybe it does. Maybe it’s right here in front of me, holding me, looking at me like I’m something extraordinary.

Or maybe perfection isn’t about appearances. Maybe it’s about this feeling—this warmth that spreads through me whenever Spencer is near. Maybe it’s about the way he sees me, flaws and all, and still calls me something I never thought I could be.

Perfect. That’s him.

Perfect. The word he used to describe me.

Perfect. The way I feel, despite my imperfections, whenever I’m with him.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill, a soft laugh escaping my lips as I finally find my voice. “Mm… so are you,” I whisper, leaning into him as his arms tighten around me.

And in that moment, I believe it. I believe that maybe, just maybe, perfection isn’t about being flawless. Maybe it’s about being loved by someone who makes you feel like you are.

@emma-e-a

[foxy-eva]

Full of Wonders

Summary: Dressing up as Catwoman for Halloween gives you the confidence to switch things up in the bedroom

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) nicknames, power dynamics, heavy kissing, nipple play, oral, use of strap-on (Emily receiving)

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air Writing Challenge!

Masterlist

“Damn Emily, I think you’re in trouble,” Luke teased when he saw you walking through the door to join the Halloween party Penelope was hosting. 

Emily’s eyes found you in the crowd and she couldn’t believe what she saw. You had dared to dress up as Catwoman – certainly a reference to Emily confessing how sexy she thought the actress was when you watched the movie a few weeks ago. 

Your outfit was flawless – a skin-tight black bodysuit, a full face of make-up with perfectly done eyeliner and a hairband with cat ears. It took Emily a second to realize you even brought a black leather whip as an accessory. 

“Wonder Woman,” you giggled once you saw Emily in her costume. “Nice seeing you here.” 

“I wonder who’s gonna win that fight tonight,” Tara quipped while scanning the both of you. 

Spencer chimed into the conversation, “Considering that Wonder Woman has superhuman powers, including extraordinary strength and speed and the ability to fly, I don’t think that Catwoman would stand a chance. Did you know that–”

Luke placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder to interrupt him from starting infodumping. “Reid, trust me when I say that’s not what she meant.”

You watched as an oblivious Spencer walked away with Luke to get some snacks before you turned to your girlfriend. 

“You look great,” Emily cooed before placing a brief kiss on your lips. “I knew that dressing up as superheroes was a good idea.”

“Are you surprised I chose Catwoman?” You teased as you swung your arm around her waist. 

“A little, yeah. It’s not like you to wear something so daring,” Emily confessed. 

“You’re right but seeing your face was worth it. Hulk would have been my second choice, by the way,” You joked. 

Emily took your hand to walk a few steps away from the crowd. When she was sure that nobody else was close enough to hear her, she leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “So, will you be a good kitten for me tonight?”

A smirk spread over your face. “You wish.”

“Huh,” Emily breathed. “I feel like this will be a very interesting night.” 

After leaving a featherlight kiss on Emily’s lips, you joined the rest of your friends to enjoy the party. Your girlfriend seemed especially affectionate tonight, holding you by your waist and kissing you whenever the others were busy talking to each other. 

It was unlike Emily to show so much physical affection in public. There was something in the way she looked at you, her eyes dark and filled with desire. It became obvious that your girlfriend wanted you and had a hard time keeping her composure. 

You wondered if it had something to do with seeing you in such a daring outfit. After Emily placed her lips on yours for the umpteenth time that night, you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer to find out. 

Even though the night was still young, you whispered into her ear, “I think it’s time to go home.”

The grin that spread over her face could only be described as mischievous. She nodded and grabbed your hand, wasting no time to lead you away from the party and towards her car. Before you could get inside, she shoved you against the side of the car to capture your lips with hers. 

This kiss was different from the ones before. There was no more holding back, no more need to act all demure in front of your friends. She didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss, her tongue finding yours in an instant. Emily kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. 

You felt like you could get drunk just from tasting her lips. The urgency in her actions made your heart jump. She held you against the car, hindering you from moving away as she got lost in this kiss. When she let out a muffled moan there was no more denying how much Emily needed you. 

She pressed her hips against yours and you could feel the heat radiating from her body. A similar warmth had already begun spreading over your own skin, too. In that moment you wished that you weren’t in public. Your fingers twitched against her waist, becoming curious what a mess they would find if they dared dipping beneath her skirt. 

“Let’s go home,” you mumbled against her lips. “I want to be alone with you.” 

There was no more time to be wasted to get to your destination. You felt like your entire body was on fire as you waited patiently on the passenger seat to finally be alone with your girlfriend. The tension between the two of you only grew the longer the drive took. 

Once you finally stepped inside her apartment, it was as if something inside you snapped. Usually it was Emily taking the lead in your encounters but you decided you wanted to switch things up this time. When she kissed you, it was as if you two began fighting a battle of who had the upper hand. 

Emily smirked against your lips when she realized what you were doing. She moved with you as you attempted to push her against a wall, breathing out a quiet laugh when you began kissing her neck. 

“You’re cute when you think you’re in charge,” she chuckled. 

Instead of responding, you bit down on her pulse point and Emily hissed a curse. 

“Careful,” she warned you, a playful tone laced over her voice. 

You found her eyes once more and almost got lost in their darkness. “You’re the needy one tonight,” you teased her as you pressed your thigh between her legs. “There’s no denying that.” 

“I can’t help it when you look so sinful,” she groaned.

Your tone was soft and loving when you breathed, “Let me take care of you, Emily.”

And just like that she gave in. With a nod she signaled her approval to follow your lead. A rosy shade had spread over her cheeks, making it obvious how turned on she already was. Seeing Emily like that almost drove you insane. 

She always looked incredibly beautiful when you were with her. But the way she almost seemed desperate tonight was something entirely new to you. She would have never admitted it but you were certain that she wanted you to take the lead all along. And you were eager to give her what she desired. 

You led her into the bedroom and slowly began ridding her of her costume. Each piece of clothing fell to the floor, revealing her skin to you. When she stood completely bare in front of you, you took a moment to take in her beauty. 

Your eyes lingered on the curve of her breasts, noticing how her nipples had already hardened. Reaching out your hand, you gently brushed your fingertips over her chest, paying close attention to the way her skin broke out in goosebumps. 

Emily reached out her hand to take off your hair band, letting the cat ears fall to the floor. You had long abandoned your whip and heels at the door but your tight bodysuit was still in place. Her hands began brushing over the smooth fabric until they found a zipper to pull down. You moved with her until you were only left in your black lace underwear. 

“God, you’re so sexy,” Emily groaned before she found your lips in a hasty kiss. 

With a firm push against her shoulders, you had her lying on the bed in an instant. A playful smirk was written over her face when you crawled on top of her. “Good kitten,” she cooed right before kissing you again. 

You remembered that you were the one in charge tonight. So you quickly grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head, a gasp falling from her lips. She could have easily overpowered you but had no desire to do that. Emily seemed curious about what exactly you had in mind for her. 

Your lips brushed over her cheeks before leaving kisses along her neck, gently biting down on her sensitive skin. Moving further down, you took one nipple into your mouth while your hand found the other one, taking it between your fingers and playing with it until moans began falling from her lips.

Emily began rocking her hips against yours, desperate to find some friction. Descending further down, you kissed along her stomach, her sides, her hips before settling between her legs. You had seen her many times before but each time she opened her thighs for you, you were mesmerized by her beauty. 

It was as if you watched the prettiest flower go in full bloom, each pedal layered perfectly over the other. She was glistening, as if morning dew had kissed her folds, leaving her honeyed wetness for you to enjoy. You took your time as you tasted her folds, relishing her heady scent and imprinting her uniqueness onto your tongue. 

What you were doing was more teasing than actually pleasuring her and you were both aware of that. It only aroused her more. When she began squirming underneath you, you stopped what you were doing and sat up between her legs. Emily whined in protest, a confused look on her face when she found your eyes. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” you purred as you leaned over her. 

She only sighed in response and it became obvious that she was starting to get impatient with you. You had no intention of teasing her any further, there was just something specific you had in mind. Something you had only done with reversed roles before. 

When you found her ear, you whispered, “I want to fuck you.” 

Emily’s eyes widened at your words. She understood what you meant but needed a second to process. Then, without a second thought, she groaned, “Do it.” 

Her words took you by surprise. A part of you thought that she would decline your offer and instead flip you over to take back control. You had not expected for her to submit to you to the fullest. 

Emily watched as you sat up to reach for the nightstand, opening the drawer to take out the strap. Your fingers shook with excitement as you slipped into the harness, adjusting the straps until it sat securely over your underwear. It was then that you noticed how wet you were, the soaked lace of your panties sticking onto your skin. 

Your girlfriend reached for the bottle of lube and squeezed a fair amount of it into her palm. She grabbed your strap to coat it with the liquid. The sight of her hand caressing this new extension of your body was captivating. For a second you thought about asking her to take it into her mouth but decided against it. That would have been a sight your poor heart probably couldn’t handle. Your heart was already beating uncomfortably fast inside your chest. 

It was as if Emily sensed your nervousness when she looked at you with a reassuring expression. 

“You look amazing,” she praised you. “I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.” 

“Then lay back and relax,” you whispered as you positioned yourself between her legs. 

Before she did as you told her, she reached for the clasp of your bra to undo it. “Better,” she snickered as she tossed the piece of clothing aside and leaned back against the pillows. “Now I can enjoy the show.” 

Holding the strap at the base, you slowly let it glide through her slick folds. When you brushed over her bundle of nerves, she bucked her hips against you. You repeated the motion a few more times before positioning the tip at her entrance. Before you began pushing into her, you looked at her one more time for reassurance. 

When she nodded at you, you leaned over her and began pressing your hips against hers, carefully sliding into her body. You watched as the strap disappeared inside her one inch at a time, slowly stretching her open. Moans escaped Emily’s throat at the intrusion and she hooked her legs around your hip to bring you even closer. 

Your lips found hers in a desperate kiss once you were fully inside her. With your bodies connected like that and your tongues meeting one another, it became impossible to tell where your body ended and hers began. Then, you started tentatively rocking your hips to thrust into her but you found some resistance from her body. 

“Everything okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Feels good. Just take it slow.” 

You paid close attention to her reaction as you moved, so much so that it took you several moments to realize how sensitive your own cunt felt with all the pressure of the strap against it. As you rocked your hips against her, the friction you created almost became addictive.

You hadn’t expected to find it so physically pleasurable to fuck your girlfriend like that. She had been in that position many times before and you had never noticed it having such an intense effect on her. 

But you could not deny the fact that the longer you thrusted into her, the close you got to your own breaking point. Emily noticed that, too. When you moaned against her lips, you felt her smiling into the kiss. 

She reached out her hands to find your breasts, gently kneading them before focussing on your nipples. The added stimulation only brought you further to your downfall. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. You really tried to focus on her pleasure, really wanted her to fall apart this way but you hadn’t expected how good it would make you feel. 

Your motions became erratic when your body started quivering. “Fuck, Emily… I–,” you whimpered as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

“Do it,” she sighed as she pinched your nipples. “Come for me, kitten.” 

That was what pushed you over the edge. You ground your hips against hers, your strap buried deep inside her as you came undone. When you collapsed inside her arms, you realized that no matter how hard you tried, Emily would always be the one in charge. And you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

As you caught your breath, your girlfriend kissed your cheek. “My poor baby,” she purred. “So sensitive you can’t even fuck me without getting yourself off, hm?” 

“I can’t help it,” you admitted. “You make me feel so good.” 

Emily pushed on your shoulders until you were hovering over her again. Then, before you even realized what she was doing, she turned the two of you over with one swift motion. It took you a moment to realize you were the one lying on your back now. 

“You make me feel good, too,” she moaned as she ground her hips against you. 

The sight of her straddling your strap made you dizzy. Your hands flew to her hips, moving with her as she rocked back and forth on top of you. The sounds of her pleasure filled the room as she brought herself to closer to euphoria. One of your hands moved to where your bodies were joined to let your thumb draw circles around her most sensitive spot. 

The sudden stimulation made her motions falter and it took her a moment to get back her rhythm. Your name fell from her lips when she finally entered the sensation of pure bliss, her walls clenching around the strap as she rode out her high on top of you. When she collapsed into your embrace, you were ready to catch her and hold her tightly against your body. 

“That was fun,” she chuckled before kissing your cheek. “But I won.”

And she was right. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @grumpyy-bearr @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @sapphicprentiss @lovelyy-moonlight @storiesofsvu @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @lover-of-books-and-tea

[anas-aspiration]

Listen

Reader x ellie williams

Short drabble

Summary : A simple June walk in the woods can turn extra hot when you’re ovulating and annoyed. You don’t know how to talk about it but ellie notices the difference of attitude.

Warning: semi public sex, oral r!receiving, fingering r!receiving

“Mm- fuck ellie” you mutter, gripping the tree log beneath you.

Ellie had you leant back on a log facing the a shallow stream that she had just sketched in her journal. She dragged you outside of Jackson on a long walk to sit and draw you cradling your knees in front of this stream she found weeks ago, knowing you were on the first day of your ovulation cycle, and needy.

“You’re so wet baby, you really needed this didn’t you?” She was on her knees with her mouth placing wet kisses on your pussy, using your thighs as stability and softly massaging them.

“Mhmm..” you draw out.

“You want more? Hm?” You nod.

She gradually drags her slender fingers up your thigh, slightly massaging it along the way before sliding a finger into you. You whimper her name as she slowly pumps into you.

Overwhelmed, you glance down at the ground where her journal lies with the page of you and the creek sketched in. She drew you with such care and detail it turned you on even more to know she stared at every inch and curve of your body to make it look so flawless on paper.

She looks up at you and follows your eyes to find what you’re looking at.

“You like it baby? Did so well sitting still for me…you looked so perfect in that tiny top nd shorts..so perfect.” She brings a hand up to massage your boob softly, while adding a second finger to your cunt. “You like me looking at you like that don’t you?”

“Yes ellie” you gasp out.

She picks up the pace and you become taken over by the knot in your stomach and the lewd wet sounds overcoming the sound of the stream a few feet away from you.

“I-uhn..I’m gonna come. Fuck.” You whine.

“I knoww, i got you.”

Your knees begin to buckle and you buck into you hands when you throw your head back as your orgasm hits you like a truck.

“Fuck, look at that baby..” She helps you ride it out, not stopping until you begin to slide down the log.

“Thank you thank you..” You spew out breathless.

With a smirk on her face she assures you and helps pull your panties and jeans.

“We’ll finish this when we get home baby.”

All fucked out, you sigh, knowing exactly whats coming.

A/N! Sorry this is so short. I had a dream and three gingerbread cookies and just had to make some sort of magic happen. But theres more where this came from. And this is lowk bad, like whyd i actually forget how to write..

Please please request

[tourettesdog]

Beta Reading and Fanfiction

I’ve been writing for a long time myself, but it’s only been very recently that I’ve immersed myself in communities online for it. I’ve been having so much fun really diving into Danny Phantom and DPxDC fanfic, and I’ve met so many great friends doing so.

I mostly do my own writing, but I’ve really enjoyed doing some beta reading as well, especially for friends! There’s something so fun about getting to dive into a work in progress and help where you can.

But I do feel like some people might really struggle to understand how to beta read, or what makes a good beta reader— especially where fanfiction is concerned. I’ve been extremely fortunate to have wonderful beta readers, but I’ve had some friends frustrated with the beta reading they’ve in turn received, or otherwise feeling uncomfortable in asking for a beta reader since they don’t know what to expect.

So, how should beta reading work? How do you do a good job?

Above all, the most important thing about beta reading is communication with your author. You are not in their WIP to prove how good of a writer you are, or to hammer their work into what you would personally be proud to present online. You are there to help, in whatever way the author has asked or communicated they're comfortable with.

Before you beta read anything it is vital to ask what the author is looking for in a beta reader. There are a number of things you can ask in particular, including:

What are you looking for help with?

Do you just want me to look for typos or confusing sentences?

Do you want suggestions for things to add?

Do you want suggestions on grammar, or other more in-depth writing suggestions?

Do you need help with characterization, or even the plot?

Depending on who you are beta reading for, you might have someone who only wants a very light beta touch. They might just want you to look for glaring mistakes, or for confirmation that a plot beat makes sense. 

Other authors might want something much more involved! They might be trying to improve their grammar, or perhaps they're not very familiar with writing a new character and they would like suggestions for how to better capture their voice.

Regardless of what an author wants in a beta reader, you won't know unless you ask them! It's possible that you simply might not be compatible as beta reader and author, depending on their answer, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's okay to step back and say "I personally like to beta read things more in depth than this, so I might not be the best person to give it a look."

Otherwise, getting an answer about your author's preferences can help you figure out how to help them. Perhaps you would normally make more suggestions, but if an author has specified that they're not comfortable with that, then it's not your job as their beta reader to do so. If you are capable of sticking to the help they've asked for, then you will ultimately be fulfilling your role as their beta reader admirably.

"But I'm just trying to help. Their work has a lot of places it could improve!"

Again, beta reading is not about shaping a story into something you would personally present as your writing. It is about helping the author produce a story they're comfortable with and proud of.

It's not about being right, or heavily criticizing their writing and grammar abilities (unless this is what the author has explicitly requested!)

Especially while writing fanfiction, the work presented is not something that will ever see publishing, or that needs to have flawless grammar and syntax. This is work done for free, and it is done for fun.

And that's something very vital to beta reading—

A beta reader needs to preserve the fun.

It's very daunting, putting your work out there for others. It's especially daunting putting your work up for analysis of any kind. You're accepting that people might not understand your vision, or may judge you for what you've written.

It's all too easy to compare yourself to other creatives online, and to overthink and overanalyze your talents. Too often, it’s easy to get discouraged and feel like your work isn’t good enough.

Beta reading should never be done in a way that will discourage writing. Even if an author has asked for a lot of help, it’s important to pick your battles with what you choose to analyze, and to check in with them if you feel like you might be crossing boundaries or covering their work in too much metaphorical red ink.

When people are trying to improve their writing, you don’t always have to mark every little suggestion you think of. Unless the author is a friend you know well, or has explicitly asked for Extreme measures of help, it might be best to ignore some smaller writing issues and focus instead on bigger things. 

If you’ve already marked a lot of issues in one paragraph, but have more things you could say, consider if the additional suggestions are vital or if it might be better to leave them be. After all, if your author is looking to improve, and if you are planning to beta read for them again in the future, then helping them with more glaring issues now will help them in a way that is not overwhelming, and will open the door for other kinds of suggestions to be better understood and absorbed. 

You can always check in with your author if you’re unsure, too. Ask them if they appreciate the amount of suggestions you’ve given them, or if it’s been too much. Your author might be uncomfortable with telling you that they’re overwhelmed, and checking in is a good way to ensure that you’re both on the same page.

All that being said, though, it is also important to not always focus on things to fix and improve. You’re not just editing the story, you’re reading it. Part of keeping beta reading fun is engaging in that story as any reader would. It both helps morale, and helps let the author know what they’re doing right, when you take the time to tell them what you enjoy about the work you’re beta reading!

There are so many ways you can express positive things about an author’s writing. Consider:

“I love how you phrased this sentence here.”

“This body language feels natural and very in character!”

“I love this word choice here.”

“This part was really funny and had me laughing.”

“I’m excited to see where this goes!”

You’re reading a story, and you must have thoughts and feelings on it outside of suggestions. Let your author know! People thrive on positive feedback, and there’s just as much to be gained in marking Positive attributes to a story as there is in noting places to improve.

The last major thing I feel is vital to beta reading is respecting that it is your author’s work, and that your suggestions (however clever or helpful you feel they are) may be rejected. And that that is okay. 

Suggestions are just that— suggestions.

What you might like in creative writing might not necessarily be what your author wants to express. You might love to use ellipses, or lots of different dialogue tags, while your author might prefer dashes and more standard dialogue tags. You might like to use more colorful descriptions of scenery and atmosphere, while your author might want to focus much more on the character body language and dialogue. You might like to use a lot of exclamation points and next to no italics, while your author might like a lot of italics and very little exclamation points. 

You’re ultimately two different people, with two different ideas of what is an ideal way to tell a story. And while you can give many different suggestions on just about anything the author might add, remove, or change, it’s ultimately the author’s choice whether or not they accept those changes.

It’s not your job as a beta reader to double down and insist that they accept a specific suggestion. It’s not your job to make a case for why you think they need to change something. If an author has denied a suggestion— it’s best to let it go. Especially if you don’t know them well, and don’t have a very good rapport with them, pushing the issue will only serve to make you both uncomfortable.

It’s not just about picking your battles, but also about mutual respect. You’re not a teacher, nor an editor looking to make their work prime for publishing. You have to respect their decisions for their own story, even if that means they decide not to take a suggestion you felt would be impactful. 

It’s also always important to keep in mind that writing style, particularly where creative writing is concerned, can vary wildly. The strict rules that you learn in school were made to be broken. You learn them to figure out how to break them and, particularly when writing for fun, it doesn’t even matter if you’re breaking those rules in a perfect way. It’s fanfiction. It’s freeform, it’s fun. If someone wants to make a habit out of going buckwild with their writing style, there’s really no reason to try and corral their writing into a box labeled “High School English 101”. 

You can’t force someone to write their fanfiction like it’s going to go to a letter grade, nor should you try to unless they’re looking for that level of editing. 

Be willing to listen, and pay attention to what is and isn’t working. It’s good to take note of suggestions that your author has already commented on. Have they thanked you for pointing out something in particular? Have they expressed they feel weak with something in their writing?

Is there a type of suggestion that you keep making that they have rejected multiple times?

Work with their strengths and with their style. Focus on suggestions that have been received well, and consider letting go of ones that the author clearly has no interest in, or that might conflict with their style.

Communicate and respect each other, above all else.

Beta reading is such a helpful and wonderful thing someone can do for an author. I’ve been so thankful to have it done for my own work, and I try my best to be helpful and considerate when I’ve beta read myself. 

Having my work beta read has really helped me find things to improve upon in my writing, and has helped me feel more confident in the stories I’ve posted, just having another eye look over them before they hit the internet. I don’t always take all of their suggestions, and might disagree from time to time with the direction they want something to go in, but I’ve been thankful to have understanding, kind betas that work with me well. 

And that’s one more point I want to touch on too, is that I hope that, as a beta reader, you find yourself with authors that show you mutual respect in turn. That they thank you for the work you’ve put in to help them succeed, and have made the experience positive for you as well.

It always makes me happy to see beta readers credited on posted works. It’s a kind thing for writers to show appreciation, and to acknowledge that someone helped shape the words you see on the page. 

This got much longer than I intended it to, but I just hope that this post might help some people in some way. Either to understand beta reading and the purpose of it, or how to potentially go about it themselves. 

I really recommend giving beta reading a try if you’re comfortable with it, especially if you have friends that write fanfiction! Even just an extra pair of eyes looking for typos can be a godsend for someone who has spent hours upon hours staring at a long fic and editing it.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

do you fancy a quickie? word count: 2,5k cw: shameless smut, viktor is a tease (everybody act surprised), no use of y/n, reader is reffered to as spouse. what else? ah yes. semi-public sex.

art cr: @arcanescribbles. saw her viktor in formal wear and instanly knew i had to write something mentioning it. *standard 'english is not my first language please don't be mean to me' bullshit*

It felt immaculate. The languid wince of bright eyes, the smirk you were wearing — chiselled just perfectly precisely for a moment like this, as if you were an inborn heartthrob rejecting unfortunate suitors left and right — a natural, if you will. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” you started from a far, making sure — patently by total accident — to casually snake a dextrous hand up your chest, resting it right above your cleavage — just where that fool’s eyes were devouring you. “But I am simply not interested. I’m married.”

You’re savoring the drop of his face when he notices the ring. You just wiped a grin off a man’s face with class — surely, that must’ve felt spectacular, and you rejoiced when he hummed — suddenly all clumsy and simply pitiful — and, with a rather impolite mumble of a sharp ‘excuse me’, walked away, leaving you all proud and unapproachable. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t ask me for a hand in a dance, gentlemen — because someone has already put a ring on it. 

You got back to chugging on your champagne, lips tightly closed around the rim of that ridiculously fancy glass, although it matched the ridiculously fancy gown you were impressing the so-called select society with tonight. And it actually worked (or so it seems),  since you managed to strike the fancy of the mentioned earlier tipsy sir, who were now pouting his lips like an offended child, turning his subtle drunkenness into a full-blown intoxication; squinting, and ranting, and swallowing yet another drink as he kept whining about your flawless rejection to a bunch of sympathetic peers. 

But you couldn’t care less — not when you were just minutes away from leaving this bougie ballroom behind, with all its curious glances and endless mingling; so many faces, when you only wanted to stare into the sharpness of one — with two moles piercing the pale canvas of skin and cheekbones hollow enough to stroke a soft finger over the lines of them, demanding a kiss. You sigh — almost dreamily in the way your head wearily leans its weight onto the back of your palm. So cliché, but who are they to blame you? Not when your husband is such a sight, and certainly not when your husband is such a sound — raspy, low, and, frankly – simply hot, and you giggle at the thought, sinking two front teeth into the pad of your thumb. 

You barely understand a word when Viktor tells the inquisitive Upsiders about the Hexclaw glove, yet still absorb each moment of his speech with tender thoroughness, because listening to him talk — about anything, really — is a privilege, one you cherished dearly and with genuine care. You were an admirer, watching him — all intelligent and so pensive, in that suit, with that raw passion in the depth of copper eyes, on that stage. And comprehension is not necessary — not when you see how talking about his inventions lights him up; so bright, that he could easily outshine the golden boy. In your loving eyes, at the very least. 

He notices when you join the round of enthusiastic applause, quietly thanking his audience for the attention — pensive and polite, so uniquely pretty in his demureness. It feels like showing him off, and that grin stretches even further across your face when he goes down the stage to walk up in your direction. 

You’re not subtle with that kiss. Pulling on his tie, shamelessly pushing your tongue into his mouth, knowing that they stare, and when Viktor — all wide-eyed and smitten — reciprocates, humming into the heat of your lips, you’re gone. He’s breathless when it’s over, arches a thick eyebrow in a curious manner, sinking your proud expression in. 

“What was that for?” he chuckles, feeling the damage done to his bottom lip with your teeth. 

“Can’t I kiss my husband simply because I felt like it?” you purr in response, greedily eyeing him. 

He laughs. You stroke a hand over the rise of his chest, and he clutches his cane — the pretty one for special occasions, with elegant carving and gilding. 

A thin arm wrapped around your waist coaxes you to jump off the stool, allowing him to steal an embrace. Can’t resist Viktor in a suit. In his other attire too, of course, but god does he look spectacular all dressed up. It’s almost like he was made for all the blazers, vests, and ironed shirts — an inborn gentleman, sickeningly handsome.  

His gaze travels down, to the oh so taunting cut of the silky dress: a peek of garter holding the elegant stocking, and you notice just how he relentlessly fails not to drool over you too shamelessly.

“How was my, er, speech?” he asks, practically forcing himself to rip those eyes off your hip. “I suppose it went rather well — very laconically, if I do say so myself. However, I’m afraid that Jayce is much more natural when it comes to keeping the audience entertained.”

“I was too busy listening to you to pay much attention to the golden boy,” you confess, straightening his vest for him — another excuse to touch him, but Viktor decides to touch you instead.

“That is rather disrespectful,” he scoffs, gently capturing your wrist into the warmth of his hand, and before you can react — presses a chaste kiss to the back of your palm. Damn him and his gentlemanly tricks. 

“Perhaps,” you shrug, giggling when his breath tickles your knuckles. “But you did amazing. Truly.”

“I am flattered,” he acknowledges, letting go of your wrist. His touch lingers there — warm and domestic, a wordless way of returning the courtesy. “I hope that my brief absence didn’t bore you too much?”

“Not in the slightest,” you assured him with a wry smile, and he met your words with another inquisitive hum. “Some very persistent gentleman kept trying to convince me that I need an interlocutor.”

“Is that so?” the inventor asked, evidently amused by your revelation. “And just how did that go for him, may I ask?”

“He was heartbroken to hear that I was married, you see,” you sigh, and your lips protrude into a pout — one of fake, rather comical sympathy.

“What a pity,” Viktor retorted, blessing your ears with that low, raspy laugh of his. “I hope the news didn’t crush him.” 

“Ah, don’t even bother. You hope they did.”

“What an accusation,” he exclaims, and your hands ache to strangle him with that pretty tie. “Though not an entirely unreasonable one, I must admit.”

“My point exactly,” you bite back, and your arms rush to be wrapped around the bastard's neck, chest pressed flush to his, heartbeats mingling into a mess of thuds. 

Sinewy fingers don’t hesitate to slip into the cut of your dress. They also don’t falter to cautiously crawl into the band of your stocking, almost forcing you to whimper his name into the crook of his neck — an indirect plea to proceed in private. 

“Such a mouthy thing,” Viktor whispers, and you’re done with him, almost ready to demand he bends you over in front of those very Topsiders. “Just what shall I do with you, hm?” 

He’s hard against your thigh, even a hint of friction has him jolting, hissing a quiet curse into your mouth when he occupies it with a kiss again — one too lewd to be appropriate for public eyes. 

“You should steal me away,” you suggest, staring into the madness of heavy eyes piercing yours. “For some fresh air, of course.”

“Fresh air?” he mocks, shaking his head in fake disapproval. “Is that the only reason? Not that I’m reluctant to be alone with you — quite the opposite, actually. I simply doubt that it’s the real, eh… purpose of the encounter you’re suggesting.”

Fuck’s sake. He’s utterly incorrigible. Thanks Janna you love this man. 

You sigh, struggling to suppress the urge to slap him. 

“Do you fancy a quickie?” you finally surrender, knowing damn well that to out-smartass Viktor is simply impossible. Besides — the way his lips stretch into a thin handsome line feels greater than any meaningless pleasure a well-aimed smart comment could ever bring.

It feels even better when his mouth hovers above your ear, purring out a sweet, “I most certainly do.”

***

You squeak when he presses you against the cool bathroom wall, and a cautious hand cradles the back of your head, preventing it from repeating the dreary fate of his cane, which had just hit the floor with a loud thud. You, on the other hand — no pun intended, of course — are not that careful with your limbs, fingers already tangled into his hair, messing up its unusually neat style. He’s kissing you with desperation: rush didn’t leave him any time for hesitation, but you’ll gladly take him like this — all frantic, cock an aching swell inside his finest dress pants. 

“Darling,” he keens, licking at the fresh proof of his lust after you, as if trying to soothe the pain from his teeth needling into the softness of your neck. 

“Yes?” you breathe out, thoughts a mush of smutty images, but the limited privacy of this bathroom is not enough for a full-course debauchery. They call it a quickie for a reason. 

His hand slips under your gown, shamelessly kneading the plumpness of ass, ready to free you of the lace underwear. 

“No,” you pull away, shaking your head with a sharp inhale. “We don’t have time for this.” Your outfit is too impractical to allow him the pleasure of undressing you even partially, even though you’d love to let him have his way with you.

“But, beloved, isn’t that what we’re here for?” he protests, but you shut him up with another kiss, and, while he suffocates against your mouth, smoothly turn him around, firmly capturing between the wall and your softly pushed between his legs knee.

“I had other plans,” you reply, kissing down his jugular — some brief foreplay before abruptly sinking down.

“Oh,” he lets out a shaky laugh, leaning that bright head against the wall, but his eyes never leave yours — they attentively follow your every motion, carnal need thickly seeping out of them. “You’ll get on your knees for me? In that dress? My, I might’ve done something good in my past life.” 

“Will you please shut up?” you snarl, fighting with the buttons of his pants, and he nods, figuratively zipping his mouth with one dextrous move of a hand, informing you that his lips are sealed. Viktor knows better than to talk back to a person who’s about to suck him off. Teeth are a rather dangerous weapon.

He tenses up when you tease the head of his cock — slightly swollen flesh a pretty shade of pink, so sensitive that it twitches against the warmth of your fingers when you wrap them around the hilt.

He goes quiet, but not purely for the sake of not getting caught. He watches you in fascination: mouth forms a silent ‘ah’ the second you dip your tongue into the slit, and precum coats its tip, all sticky and bitterish. You both know he won’t last long — your next ministration proves it, relentlessly riding him of his wits. 

You kiss at his shaft with tenderness, to the point when it becomes barely palpable, so he squirms, demanding the resumption, and you can’t help but smile against the velvety skin of his tip. Pearly liquid clings to your bottom lip, forming a translucent trail — a mixture of him mingled with your saliva; just enough lubrication to slip lower, licking at the sensitive frenulum. Viktor lets out an illegible sound — you recognise a keen of your name in it, and it earns him one languid stroke — just the tiniest mercy. 

“Don’t you just love to torture me?” he sighs, looking down — all vulnerable and pretty, weak knees threatening to start trembling any second. 

“I’m only using your weapons against you,” a sweet reproach rolls of the very tongue you’re tormenting him with, and he swallows the most delicious whimper when you swirl it around the tip — once, twice, but thrice is what finally has him slapping a palm over his open mouth to muffle a dirty moan. 

He abstains from grabbing a handful of your hair, reluctant to ruin its whimsical style — because at least one of the spouses has to be an actually considerate lover. His long legs are struggling to keep in place, relentlessly spreading apart with each bob of your head — but he’s leaned against the wall securely enough not to fall. 

You swallow around him in a rather messy rhythm, but it still manages to reduce Viktor to a mush of babbles and incoherent praises. You have him by the balls — quite literally, because your free from squeezing his width hand is cruel enough to knead them, dragging more throaty sounds of pleasure out the thrusting into your mouth man. 

You’re fucking him with skill, painfully aware of just what goes through his head in this exact moment: that orgasm will be intense enough to hurt, making him wish you’d rather proceeded with those teasing licks and fleeting kisses. His hips jerk when you suppress the gag, taking him whole, not a single inch left without your thorough attention. Even the hand shoving those moans back into his lungs doesn’t stop him from letting out the most embarrassingly high-pitched keen — it breaks free when he coats your tongue in warm spurts of thick cum. You stick it out, allowing him a pornographic view of exactly what he’d just done to you, and he almost sobs, completely forgetting about his initial intentions of keeping quiet. 

“Gods a-above,” he stutters, suffocating like he’s the one whose mouth was just frantically fucked, wiping his release off your lips with his trembling thumb — a gesture of gratitude, tender in comparison to the curses he was panting just seconds ago. 

The air is thick with the smell of sex, raunchy enough for anyone who decides to walk into this bathroom to meticulously define what the two of you had just committed in it. Even getting off your knees and tucking him back into his pants wouldn’t help your condition — the pure way Viktor looks at you right now makes it all appallingly obvious. One doesn’t need to become a witness of the intercourse itself to confidently state “They’ve just fucked, Your Honor.” It’s written on both of your faces, on the mess of his hair, and, of course — on the burning under the thin material of stockings redness of your knees. 

You accept his touch, swallowing the remnants of his climax still covering your tired tongue, and he sighs, engraving the sight into his mind — probably to get off to the thought of it someday. But you decide not to tease him about it. You’re not that evil after all. 

You’ve never stormed out of the bathroom so fast before, all trembling limbs and nasty giggles —  the afterglow of your shared secret, dirty enough to banish Viktor from the Academy. 

He’ll recall it later, most definitely next Progress Day, when you’ll wrap those impatient arms around his neck, whispering a famous “Do you fancy a quickie?” into his ear again. 

Except for this time, your outfit will be easily removable. 

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 173 }

cry for me.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: dacryphilia; yet another unedited thirst post; more of a thirsty drabble than anything else, hhhhh… please ignore me if you don’t like spicy posts… and minors DO NOT INTERACT.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

anonymous said: I just read your jinwoo smut and I—I have no words…Except…It made me think of Jinwoo x someone who cries a lot during sex bc of how good it feels and it just fuels Jinwoo's pride 😈 and proceeds to make them cry until they're so sore they can't make a sound anymore 🤤🤤🤤🤤 thank you for writing ur current oneshot 🧁

jinwoo couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the mere sight of you, still trapping you beneath him as he slid his cock in and out of your silken walls. a bored expression paints his features, but it was taking him a herculean effort to remain soft and gentle with you-

especially when all he wanted to do was fuck you deep into his sheets.

here you were, so perfect and pretty for him. your lips were parted in what appeared to be a flawless o, crystalline tears falling from your eyes as your gaze met with his shyly. his casual thrusts were enough to make your breasts bounce in response to his movements, causing his full lips to form into a cocky smirk as he cooed down at you.

“what’s this? is my baby crying for me?” he finishes his question with yet another powerful thrust, making you hiccup and gasp as more tears fell from your beautiful eyes.

“tell me- tell your king just why you’re crying so much. is he hurting you…?” a dark chuckle escapes from his lips, leaning down as he harshly bites down against the side of your neck, large hands greedily tracing your figure as he continued to thrust his length in and out of you.

“perhaps your king is too big for your liking? if so… i should probably stop hurting you so much.” jinwoo lets out a mock sigh, already starting to pull out of you when your legs suddenly trapped his waist against you. feeling the way you cling to him with such a desperation makes an even wider grin paint his handsome features.

“no, please! d-don’t leave me…!” your choked moans and whines fill at the air, your hiccups more prominent than ever as the tears steadily began to fall from your eyes again.

“then you need to be honest with me.” jinwoo lets out a feign sound of concern, slotting his cock perfectly inside of your slick core once more until he was fully sheathed within you. “seeing you cry makes me anxious… so you need to tell me if i’m hurting you.”

you vehemently shake your head in response to his words, expression appearing even more shy when you shakily admit to him. “n-no, it’s just… you feel so good that i… i get all teary eyed… i’ve never felt so good before in my life, jinwoo… p-please… don’t ever stop…!”

a surge of pride was felt swelling inside of his chest, the feeling being so potent that it manages to travel all the way down to his groin as he felt himself get even harder in response. with a loud groan of your name, he tosses one of your legs over his shoulder before proceeding to drill himself into you.

“ah, you should have said so sooner, sarang…” he chuckles darkly while pressing a kiss against your ankle. “if you feel so good that it makes you cry- then cry for me.”

taking advantage of his powerful, s-ranked body, jinwoo moves at what seemed like an inhuman pace deep inside of you, earning more of those tears and broken moans from you as he spent the entire night kissing the precious and salty droplets away from your face-

who knew that such pretty tears could be such a turn on for him?

a.n. - don’t perceive me,,,, but omg, i’ve never received nsfw asks in my life 😭 was my first thirst post for jinwoo that good to even warrant such an ask?

i didn’t wish to ignore the ask, but i’m certain some of my followers don’t wish to see such nsfw asks from my readers… so if you sent me stuff and i don’t answer, just know that i’m keeping them to answer them in a more… proper story / drabble for the future (/ω＼)

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; in true ramshackle fashion, you confess to vil through a chaotic song, and it doesn't have the intended effect.

— notes; this was fun to write hehe. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ After weeks of pining, you finally decide to pluck up your courage and confess to Vil in a way that feels grand and romantic — because, of course, Vil deserves nothing less.

❋ You consult with your friends before finally deciding on a grand romantic gesture: a heartfelt serenade under the stars.

❋ Grim, Ace, and Deuce eagerly volunteer to help, sensing both chaos and entertainment in your (poorly thought-out) plan. And you manage to rope in Epel, of all people, to help you compose a song.

❋ You would have been better off enlisting Rook’s help.

❋ Epel takes his role of the group’s lyricist very seriously. Unfortunately, most of the song consists of poetic potato metaphors, given Vil’s penchant of calling everyone by that nickname.

“Your hair is as golden as a potato, it surrounds your face like a beautiful halo.” “You’re the flawless gem in my potato patch; my heart turns to mash around you.”

❋ You think it’s an absolute masterpiece, and none of your friends have the heart to tell you otherwise.

❋ The four of you sneak over to Pomefiore in the dead of night, armed with precisely two things: nerves of steel, and some old instruments you’ve found up in the dorm’s dusty attic.

❋ Grim provides lighting and ambience with his flames, Ace makes a valiant effort to pluck at the strings of his borrowed guitar, and Deuce shakes his tambourine with far too much enthusiasm, it’s almost enough to drown out your painfully off-key singing.

❋ And there you stand in the centre of it all, holding a bouquet of wildflowers (still with the muddy roots attached) and warbling singing your heart out, your voice cracking from nerves and the lack of practice.

❋ Instead of romantic ambiance, it’s pure chaos. Birds startle out of the trees. Lights flicker on in nearby dorm rooms. The nearby students think a murder has just taken place on the grounds.

❋ All the noise music has the intended effect of summoning the object of your affections.

❋ Draped in a pink satin robe, Vil appears at the window, his hair in a perfect loose braid, and a silk sleep mask pushed up to his forehead. Really, it’s unfair how effortlessly flawless he looks even in the dead of night. He doesn’t interrupt your performance but instead folds his arms and watches, his expression caught between bewilderment and judgment.

“You’re the apple of my eye, my sweet potato prince, please go out with me, don’t make me cry!”

❋ You finish the song with a dramatic flourish, slightly out of breath. You’re still holding onto that bouquet, staring up at Vil with wide, hopeful eyes.

❋ There’s a pause before Vil pinches the bridge of his nose with a deep exhale. In a flutter of pink, he descends the stairs to meet you, looking like a queen poised to address her court.

❋ Instead of swooning into your arms, Vil stands before you, his eyes narrowed and his voice a mask of carefully controlled calm. “Prefect,” he begins. “Do you honestly expect me to be wooed by that . . . Performance?”

❋ And you’ve opened up the floodgates; Vil’s perfectionist tendencies take over and he spends the next ten minutes giving a detailed breakdown of how the performance could be improved.

“Prefect, your pitch is horrendous, and you’re completely off-tempo.” “Ace, never pick up a guitar again. Your rhythm was an assault on my ear drums.” “Deuce, why are you even here? Your tambourine skills are atrocious." “And you — Grim! What were you thinking, using fire in such a haphazard manner? Do you want to set Pomefiore ablaze?” “The lyrics are positively horrendous. Who even writes about potatoes in a confession?”

❋ Vil’s lecture lasts for all of ten minutes (Ace kept count).

❋ You remain silent through it all, but you’re just about ready to combust from embarrassment as Vil continues his critique.

❋ Finally, he falls silent with a final, dramatic sigh. "If you wanted my attention, you didn’t need to orchestrate such a . . . Spectacle. Though I will admit, the effort is . . . Endearing. Misguided, but endearing.” He softens just slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he reaches for the bouquet of flowers, careful to avoid the muddy roots.

❋ He turns on his heel to leave, but pauses on the doorstep, his back to you. “By the way . . . I would prefer some red roses the next time you come for a visit.” He disappears back into Pomefiore, leaving the group in a stunned silence.

❋ Wait.

❋ Next time?

❋ Was that . . . An invitation for a second chance? Ace immediately confirms this with a triumphant yell, and you can’t help but grin, feeling like a love-sick fool despite your bruised ego and the lingering humiliation.

[solxamber]

Hello! I saw that you said it was fine to request still, so if it's alright I'll give you my thoughts/promt if it's fine by you.

Also wanted to say i love you're fanfics! Super entertaining and well written so i was wondering if you could write one that's Vil x mermaid! Reader (romantic) the prompt is-

Vil has been slowly falling in love with the reader; not just by her beauty but her personality the two have these little meet ups where she sings/the two talk endlessly and just enjoy eachothers company, but what I'm getting with this,is that Vil would take time to process his feelings but eventually he gets there and confesses. Maybe it could be a friends x lovers?

whatever you want to do with this idea is cool beans, I just really want to see what you come up with!! Alright,that's all much love ♡♡

Vil Schoenheit x Mermaid! Reader

the idea is so big brained!!! I hope you like it <3

Vil has always appreciated beauty. He lives and breathes it—the art of refinement, the craft of elegance. But lately, beauty has taken on a new form for him, and it looks suspiciously like you. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but he knows it’s tied to those secret meetups you two share by the shoreline.

You’re a mermaid, and you make a point to remind him of that every time he mentions something about the "unbearable" human world. You always roll your eyes dramatically, your tail shimmering in the moonlight as you laugh at his over-the-top complaints about fashion disasters, inferior skincare routines, or the latest scandal in the entertainment industry.

"You humans are so fragile," you often tease, resting your chin on your hand as you float lazily in the water. "Honestly, Vil, it’s a wonder you haven’t all crumbled under the weight of your own drama."

He gives you a sharp look every time, but there’s always a trace of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And yet, here you are, meeting up with one of these fragile humans every week."

"I didn’t say you weren’t entertaining," you retort with a sly grin. "It’s like watching a soap opera, except with more skincare tips."

Vil chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which somehow manages to stay flawless even in the salty sea breeze. "You’d be lost without my advice. I’ve seen your seaweed face masks."

You pretend to gasp, putting a hand to your chest. "Seaweed is a perfectly valid skincare ingredient! In fact, it’s far superior to that toxic concoction you call moisturizer."

"Seaweed smells like the bottom of the ocean."

"And you don’t?"

That’s how it always goes—banter, teasing, comfortable silences filled with the soft crashing of waves, and eventually, music. You sing sometimes, when the mood strikes you. It’s never anything planned; it just happens. Vil always listens, captivated, because your voice is something he can't quite describe. It's raw, but pure, untouched by the expectations of the stage or the pressures of fame.

Sometimes he sings back, though he pretends he’s only doing it because you insist. "Come on, Vil. Just a few bars. You know you want to."

"I am a professional," he says, crossing his arms. "I don’t perform on a whim."

But you know how to coax him, and soon enough, he’s harmonizing with your lilting melody, his smooth, controlled voice intertwining with yours in a way that makes the night feel magical.

It’s been months of these little meetings, and Vil has never been quite sure what to make of you. You’re beautiful, of course—stunning, really—but that’s not what has him coming back to the shore every week.

It’s the way you make him feel completely at ease, the way you challenge him without being mean-spirited, the way you listen to him vent about things you couldn’t care less about yet still offer thoughtful responses.

And then there’s that laugh of yours—sharp, like the crack of a wave against the rocks, but warm enough to make him feel lighter every time he hears it.

He’s always valued control—over his image, his career, his emotions—but with you, he’s found himself slipping. He realizes, with some discomfort, that he’s been looking forward to these meetings a little too much. It’s not just the singing or the banter anymore. It’s... you.

That thought bothers him, because Vil Schoenheit does not get "distracted." He doesn’t fall for anyone. At least, not like this.

But here he is, walking down to the beach again, heart beating faster than usual as he anticipates seeing you. Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the moon is hanging lower than usual, casting everything in a silvery glow, or maybe it’s the fact that Vil can’t deny his feelings anymore.

You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, sitting on a rock with your tail swishing lazily in the water. "Late again, Mr. Superstar?" you call out teasingly.

"I’m fashionably late, thank you," Vil replies, though there’s a softness in his voice. He takes a seat on the sand, smoothing out his coat with practiced precision before looking at you.

"You’re slipping," you say, eyeing him critically. "Usually, you’d have a comeback ready. What’s the matter? One of your beauty products finally backfired?"

Vil snorts softly, shaking his head. "No, though if it did, you’d be the first to hear about it." He looks out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve just been... thinking."

"Uh-oh," you say, folding your arms over your chest. "That sounds dangerous. What about?"

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Vil has always been calculated, measured in everything he does. Confessing his feelings, though? That’s not something he’s prepared for. He glances at you, and suddenly, the words start spilling out before he can stop them.

"You know, for someone who claims not to care about humans, you certainly seem to enjoy spending time with me."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in tone. "Are you fishing for compliments, Vil? Because I don’t need to stroke your ego any more than it already is."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, it’s just... You’re always teasing me about humans, about my world, but you keep coming back. Why?"

You tilt your head, considering his question for a moment before replying. "Because you’re interesting, Vil. You’re not like the others I’ve met. Most humans get caught up in themselves, but you... you’ve got a spark. You’re genuine, even when you’re being all high-and-mighty. And, well, it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options for good conversation under the sea."

Vil’s heart skips a beat at your words, and he finds himself smiling despite the nerves building up inside him. "I see. So I’m just your entertainment, then?"

"Oh, definitely," you say, grinning. "But you’re also... more than that."

Vil blinks, his breath catching slightly. "More?"

You nod, your expression softening. "You’re someone I look forward to seeing. I like being around you, Vil. You make me feel... seen. And I’m not just talking about my looks. It’s like you actually care about me as a person, not just a pretty face."

He swallows, his chest tightening as he listens to your words. This is it. He can’t hold it in any longer. "I do care," he says quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "More than you know."

You look at him, your teasing expression fading as you sense the weight behind his words. "Vil...?"

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think... I think I’m falling for you."

There. He said it. And now his heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Vil Schoenheit is unsure of himself. He braces for your reaction, half expecting you to laugh it off or tease him like you always do.

But you don’t. Instead, you blink at him, your mouth opening and closing as you process his confession. "You... what?"

Vil clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I’m in love with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and I didn’t want to admit it, but... I can’t keep it to myself anymore."

There’s a moment of stunned silence before you break into a wide smile. "Vil, you absolute idiot."

He recoils slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months now! I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you."

Vil blinks, taken aback. "You... you knew?"

"I didn’t know know," you admit, "but I had a feeling. You’re not exactly subtle, Vil."

He stares at you, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding his system. "Why didn’t you say anything, then?"

"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out yourself," you say with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I didn’t think it’d take this long, though."

Vil narrows his eyes, though there’s no malice in his expression. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you love me," you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "What does that say about you?"

He huffs, though his heart is fluttering in his chest at your touch. "That I have terrible taste."

You laugh again, the sound bright and infectious, and before Vil can say anything else, you pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, and Vil feels like his entire world is melting away in that moment. The taste of saltwater lingers on your lips, and for the first time in a long time, Vil isn’t worried about appearances or perfection. He’s just... happy.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling like fools. "So," you say, your voice teasing, "does this mean we’re a thing now?"

Vil rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "I suppose it does."

"Good," you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I’m not letting you back out of this one, Mr. Superstar."

Vil chuckles against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. "Oh, trust me," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, "I have no intention of backing out. But I do expect you to stop wearing those dreadful seaweed masks."

You gasp dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eye. "Excuse you! Seaweed is nature’s skincare miracle, Vil. Just because it’s not wrapped in fancy packaging doesn’t mean it’s ineffective."

He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Perhaps, but you’ll have to let me introduce you to something a little more refined. If we’re going to be a couple, I simply can’t allow my significant other to use subpar beauty products."

"Oh, is that so?" you ask, amusement twinkling in your eyes. "I didn’t realize I was dating a beauty tyrant."

"It’s for your own good," he says with mock seriousness, though there’s a warmth behind his gaze that betrays his affection. "Think of it as part of your glow-up. You’ll thank me later."

You can’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. It’s strange, really—how quickly this has all come together, yet how natural it feels. You never would’ve guessed that your casual banter and late-night talks would lead to this, but now that it’s happening, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Vil reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but purposeful. "You know," he says softly, his usual sharp tone melting into something softer, "I’ve never met anyone quite like you."

You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. "I could say the same about you, Vil. You’re not as scary as people think, you know."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "That’s a well-maintained persona, I’ll have you know. Can’t let people think I’m soft."

"Oh, but you are," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "At least with me."

He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real bite behind it. "I’ll deny it if you tell anyone."

You laugh, resting your forehead against his as you savor the closeness between you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely at peace, as if everything has fallen into place. Vil, with all his elegance, wit, and sharpness, has somehow become the person you’ve come to care about more than you ever thought possible. And now, as he holds you close, you know that you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

"I’m glad it’s you," you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I never thought I’d fall for a perfectionist with an ego the size of the sun, but here we are."

He lets out a soft, genuine laugh, his arms wrapping around you more securely. "I never thought I’d fall for someone who argues with me over skincare, but I suppose life has a sense of humor."

"Looks like we’re both in for a wild ride, then," you say with a grin.

Vil hums in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. "As long as it’s with you, I think I can handle it."

You smile, feeling your heart soar at his words. There’s a certain magic to this moment—a kind of fairy tale that feels like it’s been written just for the two of you. And as you sit there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something truly beautiful.

"Well then," you say, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, "looks like you’re stuck with me, Schoenheit."

"Forever, I hope," he says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss—this one longer, deeper, filled with the promise of something lasting.

And in that moment, with the moon shining overhead and the waves lapping gently against the shore, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together..

Masterlist

[notjustjavierpena]

i love how playful javi and wife are in the bedroom sometimes. cracking jokes and being gross. they’re so comfortable with each other and it really shines in these moments.

I would love to see a drabble focusing on them absolutely loosing it laughing while being intimate.

Giggles (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This was lovely to write! However, it was so hard (no pun intended) to come up with a joke on the spot. I have a whole list now for future use. Also - when does the word count get high enough for it to stop being a drabble?

Summary: You make a joke for the first time during sex.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, female masturbation, oral sex (m receicing), mouth-fucking, dirty talk, cumshot, giggles and love

Word count: 1.2k

Giggles

It has been four months now and it is the best sex of your life. It is not like you have a million different experiences to compare with being with Javier Peña but whenever he has you naked, you just know that it doesn’t feel like this with others and you doubt others have even felt the way you do with their own partner. The stupid man makes you come so hard that you lose sense of time and space, and you walk around in a cockdrunk haze that consists almost entirely of waiting for the next time you can see him.

One more thing. He makes you giggle. Tiny snickers come from your mouth even when he is inside of you, and his eyes gleam with boyish pride and joy whenever you accidentally snort from laughter during sex.

“What was that?” He always asks, pulling your hands from your face whenever embarrassment heats up your cheeks enough for you to want to hide behind something. Seeing the look of humiliation on your face when doing the perfect imitation of a pig during a time when you should be imitating the flawless femme fatale is apparently too funny for him not to mock lovingly. Sometimes, you think he might joke around on purpose for the sole benefit of hearing you laugh but you don’t dare hope that is the reason because that’ll mean this is love.

Like that time when you banged your dominant hand into your doorframe during a date night, hobbling around with a string of swears falling from your mouth, and then later couldn’t give him a handjob with your other one because the angle wasn’t right. He had looked at you with a shit-eating grin and asked if you weren’t ambi-dick-trous to which the laughter you gave made the pain subside completely.

However, despite all this, you still haven’t managed the courage to joke back at him during your most intimate moments. You suspect it is some kind of ridiculous attempt to maintain the illusion of being the sexy new girlfriend - God, that is what you are, isn’t it? His girlfriend - but at this point, you think the easiest way is just to break the rules you have made for yourself and dive headfirst into the waters of being funny in the bedroom too. Together.

You have been going down on him a lot lately, eager to please whether it is on your knees or lying down in the bed if it means being soaked in his taste and scent. That is why it seems like the perfect opportunity to earn a chuckle from him.

You are on your back on your bed, and have a hand on Javier’s lower stomach, nails scratching through the hairs right at the beginning of his happy trail, whilst the other one is between your legs to rub circles on your clit in a desperate fashion. Javier is fucking your mouth, the soft skin of his cock sliding past your lips over and over. At this point, you feel like an expert in knowing what to do with your mouth to make him twitch and moan. It is rough, dirty, and only painful in a way that has you groaning for your orgasm.

“I can hear you,” he says breathlessly, voice shaking from how sensitive he is due to his own climax climbing. He is making the bed rattle from his thrusts, “You gonna come with my dick in your mouth, baby?”

You whine to say yes, and then you’re off. The first crash of pleasure washes over you and your jaw goes even slacker as everything below your belly button starts to pulse with no other reason than to make you feel like you’re in heaven. Your eyes roll back, your toes curl and you gag wetly with every other moan you let out.

“Jesus Christ, you are gorgeous when you come,” you hear Javier moan above you, sounding like he is just about to blow. You look up through your damp lashes again, and sure enough, you see that Javier’s eyes are closed and his jaw is locked tightly as he uses you to get off.

You tap his torso with your palm and he pulls back a moment after, brows furrowed and just about to ask when you interrupt him in his thoughts of concern.

“Come on my face,” you order but your voice is hardly commanding as it is hoarse from being throat-fucked.

Javier growls, already wrapping his hand around his spit-slicked dick. He strokes himself fast, eager to paint your face, “Fuck yes, I will.”

“Yeah?” Your voice oozes with dopamine and sex too, “Come on my face, Javi, please.”

“Eres una chica sucía (You’re a dirty girl),” he pants and dares to look down at you.

“I know,” you smile innocently, propping yourself up on your elbows, and opening your mouth with your tongue slightly out.

Javier is done for. He comes with a groan of your name, and it sounds so sweet even if followed by filthy swear words. You take the first shot of come in your mouth but as Javier’s climax peaks and his sounds become whines, his aim falters and the next spurts hit your cheek, jaw, and even across your chin.

He sounds like someone who’s trying to desperately outrun something or someone. His breaths are fast and strained, and you hold onto his sides to keep him steady as he moves to pick a few wipes from a pack on the nightstand that’s being more and more frequently used.

That is when it happens. You hadn’t actually planned what to say, thinking it would come off as too neurotic to schedule a joke. For this reason, it also takes you by surprise.

“So,” you say casually as he sweetly rids your face of his spill, “Come here often?”

He looks down at you with surprise and stops cleaning your face. He doesn’t say anything at first and even though his silence probably only lasts for a second or two, you feel panic rise in your chest. This is what you got for trying to be the funny girlfr—

Javier bursts into laughter. It is loud and unrestrained, and so pleasant to your ears that a flash of making him crack up like that every day for the rest of your life pops up in your mind. How on earth have you waited so long to hear that sound? You watch in awe as he gets crinkles around his eyes, chest rising and falling in short bursts of the lightness laughter brings.

The laughter develops into giggles instead and he is finally able to wipe the rest of your face clean. You find everything about it so infectious that you cannot keep your own snickering at bay. You join in, and after he throws the crumpled wipes on the nightstand, he flops down on top of you to pull you close to his chest.

You feel the vibrations of his chest as he snickers. He doesn’t seem to be able to stop even if it wasn’t that funny - evidently high on post-orgasmic bliss - and you don’t want him to anyway. It is sweet happiness even as he pulls back for a second to look at you, only to start crying with laughter all over again.

You have nothing that you need to get out of bed for. You have all the time in the world. You giggle along with him and listen to his stuttering breaths and try to think of another joke.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[actiniumwrites]

hii may i request a hurt/comfort scenario with kazuha and alhaitham where reader feels insecure about their looks >< no need to specify what they feel insecure about specifically but they just don’t think they’re pretty enough for charac !!!

worthy

synopsis: you don’t feel good enough for them. they beg to differ.

characters: kazuha, alhaitham x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, insecurity, crying, some humor, not proofread

notes: thanks for the request, anon! hopefully you enjoy this, i really liked how kazuha’s turned out. alhaitham was so difficult to write for this prompt though 🥲

Kazuha:

You don’t know when it started. When, one day, your brain decided to make the shift from feeling the luckiest in the world to feeling utterly trapped. Maybe it was the way people looked at him, or maybe it was the way you never felt deserving of him in the first place, but either way, it didn’t matter.

It started in little things. Most days it just consisted of you wallowing in your reflection anytime you caught a glimpse of it. A passing moment of painful recollection that makes you feel less than deserving of him.

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend blurts out randomly. It isn’t like him, you think. Kazuha has never been the type of person to waste his words so suddenly without thought. His words are usually sugar coated and flow gently in the wind so as to not evoke harsh emotions.

The question makes you visibly pause. Quietly, you clasp your hands together to stop them from the inevitable shaking. Your shoulders seem to droop a little further and he hates the way your bottom lip dips into a depressing tremble.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale defeatedly, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth.

“What for? I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong,” his gentle white brows furrow. You hate how concerned he looks. Couldn’t he just be angry for once? At least then you wouldn’t feel so insane.

You bury your face in your hands, trying to shield yourself from not only him, but the entire world. It constantly feels like you have prying eyes on you, tearing apart each and every feature on your body. And, just as you predicted earlier, the tears you’ve become long acquainted with begin to make their way to the forefront of your eyes until they’re too heavy to hold.

Kazuha gently pushes your hands aside, instinctively placing them in your lap so he could wipe away your sadness. Still, you hang your head against your aching chest and let the pain seep out through your voice, “Don’t you hate it? The way I look? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bother me? No. Of course not. I love everything about you. I could gaze into a thousand sunsets and the view still wouldn’t be as alluring as you are. There is no amount of stars in the beaming night sky or the deep red of fresh autumn leaves that could compare to you. Every time my hand aches to write a piece of poetry, it longs to write about you.”

You bashfully look away, trying to hide the smile appearing through your frown as you gaze out into the field next to you. Tenderly, Kazuha tilts your face back toward his as his ruby red eyes stare intensely into yours. You look back and forth between them before laughing quietly through your tears.

He hums proudly, shaking your shoulder a bit before leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips, “and don’t try to deny it. You know every word I speak is nothing but the truth. I would never lie to you, honestly.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, understanding now that your boyfriend is right. You’ve read his writing enough to know that whatever Kazuha found to hold truly beautiful was indeed actually beautiful. Because, in a world full of subjectivity, his word is like the law.

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham is practically flawless in all ways. It’s something you’ve realized long before you began dating him — began being friends, even. Aside from his harsh personality, he’s handsome, intelligent, a good leader, and so much more.

It makes you question why he’s even with you. Most of the time, you only joke about it with him and sometimes he even laughs about it. But there are the times where it isn’t just a passing comment or silly thought in the back of your mind, but rather, a growing virus that spreads a dangerous, lingering toxin throughout your body.

“Is something the matter?” Alhaitham nudges your shoulder quietly from beside you. He’s nice enough not to embarrass you in front of the group, shockingly. Despite being his partner, he didn’t often spare you of his “cruelties.”

Your eyes snap to his and out of the faraway place of insecure thoughts you were trapped in for a moment. Silently, you nod and return to listening to the group of people presenting a project to Alhaitham for approval at the Akademiya. His eyes continue to linger on you for a second, not buying any lies you might make up to make it seem like you’re okay. As apathetic as he may be, Alhaitham has indeed found a place in his heart to care about you.

But you can’t help but feel insecure as you watch them. All of them are so attractive and everyone in the room looks so drawn to them, eager to get a word in after. It makes you wonder what Alhaitham even sees in you. A man like himself, he could have anyone in the world.

“I could.”

“What?” your head snaps to him in terror, whispering a little too harshly, “did I say that out loud?”

“No. I can read minds, so I know what you’re thinking,” your boyfriend says blankly. You stare at him in sheer panic before the tiniest of smiles breaks out on his face, “I was joking.”

You frown and shove him ever so slightly away from you, “Yeah, well you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Alhaitham takes one step closer to you than he had before, assuming the position he was in before you pushed him away. Only this time, he gently loops his arm with yours, something he only does when he feels a little more like showing affection. He isn’t the most physically affectionate, but you know what he means by it.

“I’m serious. I know that look on your face,” he whispers from next to you before turning to actually face you, “I could have anyone in the world, so why do you think I chose you?”

“Out of pity? I mean, look around us. I’m not exactly the best looking here,” you mumble, attempting to fight off the growing lump in your throat. So maybe Alhaitham isn’t so perfect, because you sure as hell hate the way he shows comfort.

He sighs irritated, “No, you idiot. Pity is a form of emotion I’ve never felt for anyone, not even you. You’re above the rest of them, so don’t doubt it for a second. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now.”

“You’re so mean, you know? You don’t have to put other people down just to make me feel better,” you say, fighting a smile. He really should’ve taken a class on human emotion back in his scholar days.

Alhaitham turns away from you now, facing the presenters and ignoring your defense against his words, “I only speak truthfully. You are the only person in all of Teyvat that I want. You can choose to believe it or not, but that’s factual information.”

He’s right. Alhaitham hates lying because he sees no point in it. It’s something he’s told you a thousand times, maybe even more.

“Will you say it then?”

You still don’t believe him anyway.

He quirks a brow, “Say what?”

You hold onto his arm a little tighter, afraid he might slip away from you. That bit of doubt still lingering in your mind, “That you think I’m…you know…?”

Alhaitham sighs but gives in regardless. Staring you dead in the eyes with no room for any semblance of a lie, he whispers quietly, “Yes, I think you’re the prettiest person in all of Teyvat.”

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Blue Skies and Green Eyes (Jake Seresin x Reader)

A/N: so I decided to just write an air show meet cute for Jake, Bradley and Bob because, even with a poll, how could I ever choose? So, here's the first of three, I guess? 😅

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

content/warnings: pure fluff, air show inaccuracies because the last time I went to one I was 9, and it was in a cornfield, reader has a named niece and nephew, no physical description of reader given other than an allusion to them being tall.

word count: 2.1k

On the sun-soaked beach, your niece and nephew climbed over one another eagerly on the blanket you had carefully arranged, vying for the best spot to witness the spectacle unfolding overhead. The air show, a cherished tradition passed down from your father to you and your brother, had become an annual pilgrimage for your family. Determined to keep the legacy alive, you eagerly took charge of the tradition when your brother couldn't make it to your nephew's first air show.

For the past seven years, this had been your unique tradition with them. As the jets roared to life in the sky, the kids engaged in a lively dispute, each competing for an unobstructed view of the aerial acrobatics. Your brow furrowed as their bickering escalated, prompting an eye roll from you. Seizing the opportunity to diffuse the tension, you chuckled and settled between them, effectively creating a barrier that halted their squabble.

“Hey!” They both protested, shaking their heads in dismay.

“If it's the only way to prevent a full-blown war between you two, then I'm planting myself right here,” you declared with a playful smirk.

Mia, your spirited niece, responded with a pout and crossed arms, while Aiden, her older brother, countered by sticking his tongue out at her, a mischievous grin adorning his face as he comfortably claimed his spot beside you.

“Aiden,” you warned, catching his silent final shot at his sister out of the corner of your eye.

“Sorry.”

A warm smile adorned your face as you, along with the children, gazed skyward, captivated by the mesmerizing display of aircraft maneuvering through a series of intricate twists, turns, and loops. Aiden erupted in cheers and enthusiastic whistles, his excitement bubbling over as a FA-18 Super Hornet executed a flawless barrel roll high above. Engrossed in the spectacle, he fervently waved at the aircraft above him, a hopeful gesture that the pilot might catch a glimpse and reciprocate in some way. Beside him, Mia eagerly pointed upward, her eyes widening in sheer wonder as the plane effortlessly navigated a knife-edge flight, leaving her with an awestruck expression that mirrored the spectacle unfolding before her.

As the airshow continued, the sky became a canvas for more daring aerobatics. Another set of aircraft roared onto the scene, executing synchronized maneuvers that left trails of smoke swirling against the azure backdrop. Aiden and Mia's attention darted from one spectacle to another, their faces alive with awe and exhilaration. You couldn't help but share in their enthusiasm, reveling in the joy of witnessing these aerial feats with the same awestruck gaze you had as a child yourself, completely fascinated by the skill executed in every move. 

Suddenly, a squadron of jets soared in tight formation, their wings almost touching as they painted the sky with precision. The deafening roar of engines filled the air as the pilots skillfully executed a breathtaking sequence of loops and rolls, creating a symphony of motion that left the onlookers breathless. 

Aiden, his eyes glued to the spectacle, whispered in amazement, "I want to be a pilot one day, just like them!" 

Mia, equally captivated, nodded in agreement, her imagination ignited by the incredible display unfolding above. 

“Do you think we could meet them?!” Aiden asked excitedly as he turned his attention to you.

“I don’t know, honey, they’re probably really busy,” you explained with a nod of your head, knowing that the chances were unlikely to be in your favour.

“Can we try?! Please?” 

You looked at Aiden’s pleading face, and then to his sister, who had decided to match his facial expressions, their innocent faces making nearly impossible for you to say no to. 

“Fine, we can try. But I’m not making any promises, guys. You know, they’re really busy, and they’re actual military pilots, they’ve got lots of stuff to do.”

The children both cheered the moment you agreed to their request, and you could tell that the last portion of your reply was falling on deaf ears. You huffed a mock dramatic sigh as you squeezed both of them into a tight hug, laughing softly. 

After the airshow had concluded, all Mia and Aiden could talk about was how you were taking them to try and meet some of the pilots. You felt an anxious knot in the pit of your stomach, nervous that you’d be unable to fulfill their wish. Holding both of the children’s hands, you approached the airfield fence where the pilots could be seen chatting after the show, their planes merely feet away from where you stood. A group of pilots who appeared to be in their early to late 30s stood together, laughing cordially as they spoke. One of the pilots, a tall blonde with an air of pure, unbridled confidence to his stance took notice of you as you stood with Mia and Aiden. He waved his hand to say hello, and Aiden practically squealed in excitement, jumping up and down on the spot.

The blonde pilot raised his hand to his colleagues, appearing to excuse himself for a moment. Suddenly, you noticed Aiden’s attention turn to the side. You and Mia followed his gaze, noticing that the blonde pilot was now on your side of the fence that separated the three of you from the military aircraft in the field. 

“Hi, did y’all enjoy the airshow?” The aviator asked, flashing a charming smile at you as he lifted his sunglasses to rest on top of his perfectly coiffed hair.

Aiden nodded his head in a stunned silence, starstruck by the man standing before him. The allure of the charismatic Navy pilot was undeniable. His tall, athletic frame exuded confidence, and his sun-kissed skin bore witness to countless hours spent in the cockpit under the Californian sun. Those stunning pale green eyes seemed to hold the vastness of the sky, hinting at the adventures he'd encountered soaring through the clouds. Jake's charming smile had a magnetic quality, drawing you in with its warmth and openness. The subtle southern drawl in his voice added an extra layer of appeal, creating a melody that resonated with the thrill of the airshow and the laid-back atmosphere of the beach.

“We did,” you said after a moment’s hesitation, trying to not appear like a lovestruck teenager as your eyes briefly met with his.

The pilot knelt down to Aiden and Mia’s level, smiling at them both with the same charming grin he gave you a moment ago.

“Do you kids like planes?” 

“I do!” Aiden and Mia both responded in unison. 

“That’s awesome to hear! My name is Jake, I fly planes for the US Navy, see that one there?” He beamed proudly as he gestured towards one of the grey aircraft parked in the distance, “That’s my plane. All of our planes have our names on them so we know who’s is who’s, and our callsigns, so we can just use one word to talk to each other on the radio.”

“What’s your callsign?” Aiden asked, tilting his head as he looked at Jake.

“Hangman. Like the game, where you have to guess letters to find out what the secret word is, do you know that one?”

Aiden nodded his head and grinned. You couldn’t help but admire how patient and friendly Jake was towards Aiden and Mia, taking care to answer their eager questions with thorough answers and explanations, leaving nothing unanswered.  As he spoke passionately about his experiences as a Top Gun graduate stationed at Miramar, you couldn't help but be captivated by the combination of his professionalism, adventurous spirit, and undeniable charm.

“Do you have a rank?” Aiden quizzed, tilting his head.

“Of course! Lieutenant Jake Seresin, US Navy,” Jake grinned, “And what’s your name, little guy?”

“I’m Aiden, and this is my sister, Mia,” Aiden explained, before introducing you as somewhat of an afterthought due to his excitement.

Jake looked up at you, a genuine smile forming on his lips. His green eyes stayed on you, and you could feel a sense of curiosity in his gaze. He turned his attention back to your niece and nephew, his hand resting on his knee as he looked at them both.

“Nice to meet y’all! Maybe, if your aunt says it’s ok, you guys could come back here one weekend, and I could give y’all a tour of the planes, let you meet some other pilots? Sound fun?”

Jake's offer had your niece and nephew practically buzzing with excitement. Their pleading eyes and enthusiastic pleas tugged at your heartstrings, mirroring the eagerness that now danced in your own eyes. You exchanged a glance with Jake, whose genuine smile hinted at an underlying warmth. 

"Well, Lieutenant Seresin," you responded with a playful grin, "it seems like you've just won yourself two eager co-pilots for that future tour of yours."

The prospect of spending more time with Jake and experiencing the world of naval aviation up close had ignited a spark of anticipation within you. As he continued to chat with Aiden and Mia, effortlessly captivating them with tales of high-flying adventures, you couldn't help but appreciate the sincerity in his demeanor. The beach, once a stage for the breathtaking airshow, now held the promise of more extraordinary moments to come. 

With a subtle twinkle in his pale green eyes, he stood up and straightened his posture to his full height, easily taller than you by more than a few inches. He turned his attention back to you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. 

"You know," he began, his pale green eyes locking onto yours, "meeting someone as captivating as you wasn't part of the airshow program today. Consider me pleasantly surprised."

A warm flush crept across your cheeks as you chuckled at his smooth remark. Jake continued, his voice carrying the lilt of his unmistakable southern drawl, "I was thinking, maybe when I'm not up in the skies, we could grab a coffee or a drink. Talk about something other than planes and maneuvers, you know?"

The subtle invitation hung in the air, and you found yourself nodding, unable to suppress a growing smile. 

"I'd like that," you replied, your eyes meeting his with a shared sense of anticipation.

“How about you share your number with me? That way, we can figure out when to meet up again. And it saves you from having to try and track me down on a Naval base."

Feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation, you retrieved your phone, fingers tapping out the digits as you exchanged contact information. Jake reciprocated, a grin playing on his lips as he entered your number into his phone. The exchange felt like a subtle promise, a digital tether that connected two individuals eager to navigate beyond the boundaries of the beach encounter.

With phones back in pockets, there was a shared acknowledgment that this exchange wasn't just about convenience but a mutual interest in seeing where this connection could lead. As the warm sunlight cascaded down over you, your niece and nephew’s muffled giggles and whispers in the air, and the promise of future messages and potential meetings lingering, it left you both with a sense of excitement for what lay ahead.

"Well, it looks like it's time for me and these two little aviators to head out," you remarked with a playful glint in your eyes. 

The prospect of saying goodbye brought a hint of reluctance to the moment. With a gentle nudge, you encouraged Mia and Aiden to express their gratitude. 

"Come on, you two," you said with a smile, "let's thank Lieutenant Seresin for the amazing day." The kids, still brimming with excitement, turned to Jake, expressions eager.

With genuine appreciation in their voices, Mia and Aiden chorused their thanks.

 "Thank you, Lieutenant Seresin!"

Jake chuckled warmly, crouching down to their eye level. "Y’all can just call me Jake, you know. No need for all the formality, I’m only Lieutenant Seresin if my CO is around." He winked at them, his easygoing nature resonating with their youthful enthusiasm.

As the kids bid their farewells, Jake turned to you, his gaze holding a hint of something more. "Until next time, I suppose," he said, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and anticipation.

You smiled, reciprocating the sentiment. "Absolutely. Until next time, Jake." 

With a final exchange of glances and well wishes, you, Mia, and Aiden left the beach, the echoes of the airshow and the promising connection with Jake lingering in the warm California breeze. Armed with plans to coordinate with the kids' parents for a tour with Jake, and plans to schedule a date with him, you hoped this encounter marked the beginning of a connection that extended beyond the sandy shores of Coronado Beach.

[sl0t4matt]

p. cubarsi bbf! head canons (requested)

for those who don’t know bbf= brothers best friend :) lmk if y’all want a marc version since i have a few things in mind that i can write abt marc iyk ;)

❀ bbf! pau, that folds at anything you do. you would just seductively play with your hair (totally on purpose) and he’d be already trapped in your love spell.

❀ bbf! pau, that would beg your brother to hang out in the living room for the opportunity to see you. (your brother didn’t knew that though;) )

❀ bbf! pau, that can’t help but be invested in where you go when you go out of the house, keeping on asking your brother where you’re going to. your brother never really noticed how noisy he was being. he thought he was just being a good friend and looking out for you in a way your brother is.

❀ bbf! pau, that would make your brother tell you to join them when they play video games. him knowing you enjoy playing the game gta from time to time. he remembers quite a lot of things you say some things you don’t even remember saying.

❀ bbf! pau, that gets yelled at by your brother because he never pays attention to the video games when you’re around them. how could he at this point when you’re just sitting on the kitchen counter looking flawless as always even while you eat your cereal.

❀ bbf! pau, that stares a little too long on your door when he goes to your brothers. might as well be fighting the urge to getting in there and finally confessing his feelings towards you.

❀ bbf! pau, that you love to tease when he comes over. you love to jokingly flirt with him, it would make him absolutely flustered and his face as red as a tomato. you can’t help but think it’s cute. his pathetic but sweet little stuttering when he attempts to talk back to you. you have that kind of affect on him and he can’t exactly hide it well.

❀ bbf! pau, that always saw you as his brothers hot sister which was way over his league and he would never have a chance with, until you finally kissed the boy to prove him wrong.