#just testing out the waters ig

[itoshi-s]

feed my curiosity guys!!

[deus-ex-mona]

it’s that time of week again…

[toytulini]

begging my fucking fish to fucking eat something please god

[aria0fgold]

Yaknow what? I'll just post my lil isat au fic here instead. After I eat.

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

INSERT 25¢ TO CONTINUE : Into the AudoScape-Level 1: The Crate

Next

The neighborhood streets were cold and desolate at this hour. As the sun bids its adieu to this part of the world; leaving it with nothing more than a somber setting and a consistent chill. A sleepy late-autumn afternoon could never promise too much excitement for the full-grown adults and young children stuck in their homes; however, those in the limbo of both groups might beg to differ.

For a brief moment, the quiet time alone enjoyed by the nearest indoor inhabitants was briefly interfered with. Rolling steadily down the narrow winding streets, the passengers of a chipped lime-green Volkswagen made their short appearance in these small neighborhoods. Perhaps going a touch over the speed limit, the wheels ground heavily against the paved road, easily snapping away any loose branches and foliage peeking over the closed in sides. Rooted in the fear or messing up, the driver intended to minimize distraction from all other surroundings in order to ride safely. From just a side glance given by the passenger, one could obviously spot that despite his masculine front, the driver, Freddie, found himself buried deep in a festering mass of anxiety. Alongside the further darkening and eerie pathway leading towards the inevitable unknown, the constant chatter from his kid sister's brand new toy didn't help much of anything, either.

"Bring! Bring! E-he-he-he-he!"

"Allope, would you kindly consider turning off your toy for just one minute? Please? I'm trying to focus on the road," Freddie interrupted while maintaining a calm approach.

"It's not just a toy, Dipstick-" The passenger to his right playfully mocked, "It's a Spinby! I think it's supposed to be way more advanced, or something. It's almost like having a pet- just without the mess-making and allergies!"

"Yeah-sure-I get it. We all appreciate the fact that you were able to give her a semi-late birthday gift, but did you really have to give it to her right now?" A rise in tension was present in his voice. Shifting the light waves of locks dangling freely in front of her face, Rebecca gave out a sigh to fully comprehend her hysterical relative. Placing an elbow on the knee of her propped-up leg, and the other on her hip, she stared intently hoping this would get Freddie to internalize his ridiculousness.

"Come on- It's going to be fine. I'm just making up for it all at once. I'm sure more than anything that you two will have an amazing time", Rebecca reassured as Freddie eased his tight grip on the wheel.

"Okay-okay. I get it. I'm calm. And I thought you said that you didn't know much about this place. Why do you suddenly know so much information about it?"

"WHA?!" Rebecca exclaimed while throwing her arms up in the air, "Just because I don't know much about a place doesn't mean I haven't been in it. You know how I am when I'm away from home!"

Freddie chuckled, "Heh-Yeah. I know."

Not paying much attention, Allope fidgeted with the faux creature, pushing up and down its eyelids, feeling the vibrations of the stiff servos through her fingers. Allope, while old enough to understand that the toy was no living creature, or even close to sentience; still endeared to the unknown source of its lively illusion. She found herself like this often; servos and mechanics would leave her boggled, and inspire her to reach the farthest corners of the unknown, but she had never been close enough to finding the true source. Adolescents at this time couldn't give a direct answer to this source to educate the young Allope. Perhaps even coming to understanding a product so-beyond its own time was far more complicated to explain than it seemed.

"Dah! No-Uohhh!"

"Allope, can you please turn that off? Allope? ALLOPE?!"

Through the screaming, Allope's attention finally landed back down to earth. "Oh," She exclaimed, turning it around and tinkering with the manual on the bottom . "It can't turn off."

"What?" Freddie said soulessly while silently staring down Rebecca from the corner of his eye. "Well then, I think it shuts down if you stop playing with it. Or maybe it just needs complete silence!", Rebecca comes quick to defend herself.

Rebecca turned quickly to look behind her, "Allope, what does the box say?!"

Allope leaned her head slightly to the side, hoping there wasn't an ounce of regression toward her mistakes. Allope formed a wide smile from each naturally rose-colored cheek, "Oh!" she chuckled, "I threw that thing away once Fred broke the twisty-ties with his pocket knife!" The front seat lets out an expected sigh at the situation, Rebecca taking in the comedic factor more than Freddie.

"BUY-MorE-BUY-ME-"

Suddenly the toy creature gained a new voice, like a desperate salesman you would hear on TV. Not even a sentence in, it let out an irritable shriek of disturbed static, eyes flickering in multicolor, and head spinning around fast enough one could hear the joints and servos twist and snap within its body.

"Allope!" Freddie cried out attempting to gather up any crumbs of tranquility to ease the situation.

"Allope, what did you do? Just turn it off!" Rebecca suggested.

"I'm trying-I'm try-" Before Allope could figure out what to do, the ongoing audio increased unbearably, causing Allope's earpiece to whistle, making it difficult for her to think. Allope let out a small yelp in discomfort, causing the two in the front seat to look behind in concern. Rebecca lashed back by the sight bright red lights from a large and bulky-looking semi-truck that just harshly cut out of nowhere in front of the vehicle.

"Freddie! Watch out!" she hollered. Luckily, Freddie was quick enough to gain enough awareness to avoid smashing straight into it; however, Freddie's reflexes were not prepared for the large vehicle to drop a large metal box in the middle of the road. Pulling a sharp turn, the tires struck the box, causing it to spin out into the side of the lane. Rebecca was holding on for dear life, but Allope wasn't as fortunate seeing how the back seats lacked seatbelts. Through Freddie's rear-view mirror, he caught a final image of Allope being thrown against the air for just one brief moment.

SNAP! A moment of silence struck. "ALLOPE!?" Freddie cried out. By forcing the break, the Volkswagen spun out near some foliage on the edge of the road, without taking too much damage after the hit. From just turning to face the back, all that they could see was Allope's mismatched colored sneakers and patchy, cuffed jeans with the rest of her lying just out of view, motionless. "No-no-no-no-no-no-no!" Freddie screamed while unbuckling his seatbelt and desperately opening the glove compartment for the spare flashlight; Rebecca following closely behind. It took time for both to climb out of the tilted vehicle while keeping it in place; however, both passengers were able to make it to the back of the van, through pushing and snapping away as much brush as they could. Freddie desperately flung open the twin doors on the back, revealing the sight of his little sister lying in silence; observing the innards of the decapitated head of her brand new toy that broke the fall.

Freddie let out a sigh and a nervous laugh in relief, and Rebecca chuckled after seeing this. Swiping up Allope with great ease, the three hiked over the small hill to see if they could push the box out of the way so no other oncoming traffic would hit it. The roads were ghostly; the driver of the truck took off almost at supersonic speed once the cube fell off. "Man, I sure hope that wasn't a part of the truck that fell off," Freddie spoke as he approached further.

"Maybe it was just some scrap metal? I mean, it looked to be as rusty and bulky as that hell-driven truck it fell out of," Rebecca made the most out of this possible dreary moment.

Allope held no thoughts other than the brand new fantastical world that was opened up to her once she saw the innards of her poor Spinby's head. Taking a full view in the hole, she could see flat pieces of metal that extended out into the beak, once prompting it to move. Behind the mechanics to the beak were the two eyes, staring deeply into her soul despite Allope closing them on the outside. These mechanics were alien to Allope; but not meaning that she couldn't ever come to understand it. In a whim of curiosity, she thought to reach behind the mouth plates to roll the eyes back up, and then down. She did this a couple times, not giving much attention to what was happening right in front of her until Freddie gently placed her down by the side of the road.

Snapping back to reality, she dropped the decapitated head, suddenly enthralled at the sight of her brother crouching down to observe some misplaced foreign object. Upon exposure to light and movement, the latches on the item unlocked abruptly, startling the kids as they watched it open. An antenna that resembled a flat and abstract looking flower sprung up, each of the smaller antennas extending in a circle. The pistons hissed, the kids still observing it from afar.

"What is it?" Rebecca watched in horror as the eerie lighting from the flashlight caused a dramatic cast across her face. Latches clicked and lifted up without the aid of any hand. Fog arose from the opening on the crate, the interior glowing a sickly green glow that lit up the surrounding area. To make matters much more off putting for our clueless observers, a slightly off-key celebratory tune from a synthesized oscilloscope played as the top of the case rose up.

"Thank you very much for choosing AudoSphere products for all of your virtual desires and experiences," greeted a shaky and monotone voice of a woman. The voice sounded more like a generated mimic than what any real voice would ever sound like; it was vibrotic and glitched, as if its replicating human vocals from the musical synths each generated visual made. The screen was on the top part of the case, and it was rounded out like a bubble. A green line that departed into multiple shook and mimicked the voice as it went on. It appeared as if the monitor's shape would be able to fit perfectly in the bottom because of the divots carved into the settled items that looked like some sort of Nintendo play-set.

Suddenly, upon this view, Allope's fascination with her toy's decapitated head no longer mattered. "A new game!? Oh! Can we take it home and play it?" Allope spoke out amongst the silence.

"Allope! It's not ours- and if it was some kind of game-set, we would probably have to buy it. Wouldn't just taking it from a store-supplies truck be like stealing?" Freddie replied, tugging back his excitable sister from darting over to the crate.

"Thank you for your queries. I can assure you that our system can answer all your questions you need," The system replied, all eyes lifting up and paying attention to it, "As for ownership, AudoSphere virtual head and movement set and adapter cables are a safe and easily adjustable mechanic for all ages. This product, however, is in demo condition and is not fully complete. There is no foreseen update."

The ability to respond caught the three concerned observers off guard, so they just stood in silence as it continued, "AudoSphere Virtual Manipulator V4.0[demo] has no other assigned hosts, nor does it have any copies to be bought and sold at local sales establishments. It seems like this exact location is where AutoSphere is meant to be."

"Congratulations. Please state the name of the host of this set-"

"ALLOPE!" The girl shouted her own name with no hesitation.

"Welcome, Allope. To begin tutorials-"

Freddie slammed the case "Nope!-Nope! Not yet!" Allope squinted her eyes at him to convey her disappointment. 

"We can take it with us, but we need to check it with Mom and Dad first. We should tell them the truth, just in case we get some government official on the front porch. If it really turns out to be some kind of play-set, then I'll let you have it!".

Snapping out of her confused trance due to what Freddie said, Rebecca intervened and pushed Fred over to a place where Allope couldn't hear them. "Uh, Freddie ?" she spoke with hushed concern.

"Yes?..."

" You know, I don't think exposing Allope–or even your parents– to some shady set of technology is a great idea. I speak from experience when I say it's not a walk in the park messing with this kind of new-wave junk. Serious incidents happen from situations just like this all the time. If it really is just some kind of game-set, doesn't it sound a little too good to be true to have no owner or price on it and be totally free?"

Freddie's awareness of Rebecca's caution to potentially reliving a past horrible experience once again threw itself onto the table of concerns; however, he couldn't find much reason to worry, due to not having any negative situations with such things personally. "Yeah. I know it seems scary, but stuff like 'that' don't actually happen every day, ya know? I just think if we get some other perspective on this whole thing, we should be home safe. It'll be fine, Reb, I'll make sure of it."

Nodding, Rebecca started to lie to herself that these things could start a new beginning. Both teens pulled a group effort to load the crate into the back seat. Freddie assigned Allope a place between the two front seats, instead of the back this time around. The car pulled out of the small stoop easily enough, making a safe ride to "Comet Cliff's Cosmo-Cade" in no time!

[catboyieejeno]

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・★

cw: little plot, roommates/fwb to lovers (ig?), strength kink, oral (fem receiving), slightly toxic (?), jealousy, very possessive jeno, overstimulation

18+ minors do not interact !

"stop fucking moving,"

you gasp out when jeno lands a slap on your clit, unable to help but jolt at the wave of pain and pleasure that shoots through your nerves. your eyes are dazed, but you can still make out his figure between your legs. he readjusts, using his big palms to keep your thighs far apart.

"i-i'm sorry, i'm sorry," you whimper weakly. he doesn't pay any mind to your apology, though, attaching his mouth to your dripping cunt once again.

by now, you knew jeno well enough to know exactly what pushed his buttons. it's exhilarating to test his limits, because more often than not, you'd end up with a few mind-blowing orgasms as your so-called 'punishment' at the end of the night.

so earlier, when your mutual friend jaemin came over, you thought it would be ingenious to settle down on the couch beside him and swing your legs over his lap.

that was your first mistake.

"sit there and take it," jeno growls, "and stay fucking still unless you want me to edge you all night,"

you knew your little plan would bother jeno, and it very much did. it was painfully obvious on his features, from the moment you hiked up your smooth legs and laid them over jaemin's thighs.

jeno's glare was unyielding, and he had his jaw clenched so tight, you worried his teeth might crack.

purely oblivious to your antics and jeno’s sudden sour mood, jaemin didn't think twice about resting his hands on your bare skin—it was an innocent gesture, really. the problem was, when he told a joke that made you laugh, you laughed a little too hard, taking his hand into your own and sliding it up your thigh.

it was bad enough that your cotton shorts were absolutely tiny, but it was worse that they were now tucked high between your legs. by the time you settled jaemin's hand where you wanted it to be, he was no less than a few inches from your core.

that was mistake number two.

"jeno. holy shit, please,"

"you wanna tease me, huh? wanna get me jealous? you like that shit," it doesn't matter that he's mumbling into your folds and his speech is slightly slurred, you catch onto his every word.

he laps you up again and again, alternating between laying his tongue flat on your clit and wrapping his lips around it to suck on it. his hands have slid up your waist, but his elbows keep your legs pinned open.

you're, quite literally, on fire. the wet, slurping sounds of him making out with your pussy are so loud that they're deafening. every groan and growl he grants shoots vibrations through you, and there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room with the way you're rigidly panting.

if he didn't let you come soon, you're pretty sure you'd pass out.

"do you want anything to drink, jae?"

jeno scoffs. since when the fuck did you call jaemin 'jae?'

"some water would be nice, thanks," the boy flashed his smile at you and you stood up, ass practically hanging out of your shorts and right in his face. you couldn't see with your back turned, but jeno caught the way his friend's eyes darted to your pretty, plump cheeks, adam's apple bobbing as he gulped.

you returned with his glass, but just before you handed it to him, you pretended to stumble, and some of the water landed right over his crotch.

was it extremely cliche? sure, but it certainly did the trick.

when you came back with a kitchen towel chanting fake apologies and just about straddled one of his legs, jeno had pretty much had enough.

but then, as if that wasn't nearly enough, you went on to wipe away at jaemin's jeans (right over his slightly swelling bulge) wearing the most infuriatingly innocent look on your face.

"i'm so sorry!"

"it's okay, really," jaemin insisted, subconsciously spreading his knees farther apart so you could continue to dry him off.

"it's really not! jeno," you called, turning and batting your eyes, "can't you lend him one of your pairs?"

the moment your gaze landed on him, you knew you were fucked.

he narrowed his eyes on you, shooting daggers your way. after letting some air out through his nose, he seethed through his tightened teeth a small "sure."

and that? that was mistake number three.

"jeno, baby, i'm so close,"

"no," he warns, "don't you dare fucking come."

"i can't help it, i'm gonna-"

he stops at once, pulling the rug clean from under you and smirking at the way you whine out, body seizing up as your orgasm is stripped away. he watches as your hole pulses incessantly with need, grinding himself into the mattress.

you cry out, "i said i was sorry," but he only tuts, shaking his head.

"you made your bed, now lie in it."

"please," you're breathless and desperate for some sort of release. so much so, that you resort to shamelessly bargaining, "i'll give you head everyday for the next week,"

"not good enough. I can fuck your mouth whenever I want,"

"jeno! i'll- fuck, i don't know," you look around as you rack through your brain, but he doesn't let you finish your thought.

"say you're mine."

"but,” you pause, eyes widening, “i-i'm not,"

jeno sticks his middle finger knuckle deep into you, stilling it there within your tight, fluttering walls, "so then, tell me. you want jaemin's mouth on you instead of mine?"

"no," you answer quickly, honestly.

he pumps into you once, then twice, slowly coaxing the confession out of you, "then say it, baby. say you're mine, that i'm the only one who makes you feel this good,"

"i'm not yours, jeno. we-we've been over this,"

"i guess you don't wanna come then, do you?" he withdraws his digit and sits up on his knees, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, "i don't know why you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time,"

you watch as he pulls his length out of his boxers, mouth working to gather saliva to the front of his mouth. he spits, letting it fall onto his swollen, pink tip. it's hard to hide the way you're basically squirming in anticipation, hips practically bucking up and closer to him.

"i'm sorry," you try again, voice sweet and airy. but again, he doesn't answer. he simply lines himself up with your hole and pushes in with a hiss, training his eyes on you to watch the way your jaw goes slack.

"you're a brat," he scolds, "and a tease," his hands press down on your tummy, resting his weight there. when he bottoms out, you grip his wrists, looking down to watch the way he sits on his heels with his dick buried in you.

"i'm sorr-“

"stop fucking saying that," he thrusts into you and you moan out, "you know what i wanna hear," his gradually increasing pace makes you shudder, and your orgasm starts building within you once again, "i'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll never even think about jaemin again,"

jeno rams his hips into you and the sound of your skin slapping against his echoes around your bedroom. you try to cover up how close you're getting, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he won't notice until it's too late.

the only problem is: jeno knows you just as well as you know him, and even more so, he knows your body. he prides himself in that—in catching every little involuntary sign and habit you have.

he knows the way your toes curl when he hits the right spot, deep within your gummy walls, and he knows the way your eyes gloss over to spill hot tears when he chokes you.

your face might be able to conceal your true intentions, but your pussy, gushing and squeezing around him, can not.

“if i feel you come around me, so help me god, i’m gonna stop,”

there isn’t the slightest hint of a bluff behind his sharp tone, and it pisses you off. your cheeks are red hot with frustration, nails digging into his skin, which only makes him squeeze your waist harder. the pleasure is dizzying, his thick length dragging up and down your walls in the most delectable way.

you aren’t gonna last much longer, you know that. he knows that.

“please, jeno. please please please,”

“i’ll let you come, baby. there’s nothing i want more than for you to come on my cock, but i need you to tell me,”

sneakily, you trail your hand between your legs to stimulate your clit, but he’s quick to grasp both of your wrists before you can even savor the feeling, pinning your arms on your chest between your bouncing breasts.

you’re a mere second away from whining out in protest when his own free hand flies to rub circles on your puffy clit, and suddenly, the feeling is far too overwhelming.

forced to blink harshly a few times to regain focus, you look at his features and come to the conclusion that truthfully, jaemin, and no one else for that matter, could ever make you feel like this.

you didn’t want anyone else anyway. your little act was just a ploy to get you to this very point, stuck underneath jeno who manages to make you come so hard each and every time he’s inside you that you wind up seeing stars.

as the cord threatens to snap in your belly, every ounce of you longing for release, you moan out loudly, giving in, “i’m yours! i don’t want anyone else, i promise,”

“yeah?”

“yes,” you insist, “yes, baby. fuck, m’all yours, always yours,”

he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and suddenly, all the anger he had been airing out fades for a moment. he doesn’t shove his tongue down your throat (although you wouldn’t have minded much), and he doesn’t move his lips in any kind of rush; instead, they move against yours softly, almost feather-like, as if your confession would float away from any suddenness.

and finally, against your lips, he mumbles, “go ahead and come, sweet girl. i’ve got you.”

instantly, your nerves ignite and your breath hitches, your orgasm washing over you at last.

he isn’t far behind, not at all. he had been sensitive ever since he’d started humping the bed with his head stuck between your legs.

he finishes with you, in you, shooting streams of hot white cum inside your clenched walls. the grip he holds on your hand releases as a grunt rumbles in his throat, and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, letting him bury his face into your neck.

when he stills his movements, he lays his weight on top of you, warm, slick skin pressing right up against you, chest to chest.

after a few moments of silence, other than the settling heavy breaths from both of you, you rake your fingers through his hair, muttering timidly by his ear.

“i mean it. i’m yours. i only did all that earlier for—well, for this.”

“all mine?”

you nod, giving him reassurance when he lifts his head to read the expression on your face, “mhm.”

“good. i’m all yours, too.”

[maythearo]

I recently got a small set staedtler gouache as a gift and decided to test it on this page with the sillies! This was big step up from my old scholar set of paints lol, the consistency is not nearly as watery as the old ones, I can actually layer lighter colors over darker ones with ease, and I noticed they dry faster and react differently when mixed with water. On the other hand, since my set is of 6 basic colors I found myself struggling a bit more to mix them until I got the tones I wanted to use (but that's just because I'm used to having at least 12 colors in hand to make my own pallettes). imo the characters turned out paler then they were supposed to, and I couldn't find the exact hue of bright cyan that was supposed to be decorating bits of both Deuce and Ace's designs, so I gave up on that detail at the end 😭 anyway, I feel like that's a matter of getting the hang of if, actually. And more reason to go after the complete set of this brand's gouache ig, I liked it a lot lwdnkednek

[honeytonedhottie]

HOT GIRL SUMMER⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍹

hot girl summer is officially here and its the perfect time to have lots of fun and make rly amazing memories, while also feeling and looking ur best ✨ AND continuing to pursue ur goals while doing it.

THE RULES ;

in order to have a hot girl summer there are rules that need to be set in order to ensure that u have fun in a safe manner that aligns with ur goals and who u are as a person. MY hot girl summer rules are

dont put urself in situations that are compromising to ur safety or the safety of ur friends (look out for each other)

try ur best to keep moving and doing things with ur time

be social and HAVE FUN (dont ruin ur own fun)

if u didn't document it, it does NOT count (take lots of photos)

i dont have a LOT of rules for my hot girl summer, i just put those in place bcuz i wanna make sure that i have the most memorable and enjoyable summer that i can.

THE PREP ;

we should be preparing for our hot girl summer. to be helpful and just for funsies, to help you feel your most confident and radiant this summer ✨. if i were to break down the most important things to prep for hot girl summer they’d be ur base (skin + body) ur company, and ur wardrobe.

BASE ; 

moisturize ur skin after your showers while your skin is still slightly damp. for moisturized and soft skin this summer 

if ur not already using sunscreen on your face AND body then what are you even doing? get in the habit of putting sunscreen on ur body to promote a smooth and even skin tone and protect u from the sun ofc 

get into a solid workout regimen that u can be consistent with. focus on building ur body to perfection! work out as much as u want, i recommend 3-4 times a week. 

my recommendations for soft skin is to use an african net sponge bcuz that always gets me CLEAN. also, use african black soap for glowy skin and use shea butter on ur body while ur skin is still slightly damp. 

not only does it smell yummy but it rly REALLY moisturizes you well. i also recommend using it during the summer bcuz the glow that u get from it is REAL 🌺🍹

i’ve elaborated on sunscreen in the bullet points already so let’s go to body building. get into a workout regimen 3-4 times a week. i’ll share some workouts here depending on what u want. 

the important thing is that you start NOW so that then by the time it’s summer your gains will be visible and you’ll feel stronger and more confident -> therefore more happy and prepped for ur hot girl summer. 

use body scrubs to exfoliate skin and also promote optimal softness bcuz in the summer it’ll be hot and you might wanna show some skin 

WARDROBE ; 

get onto ur pinterest and start looking for inspo for your summer wardrobe that coincides with ur personal style. use ur fashion binder if u have one to start formulating and thinking of outfits. 

create a list of specific pieces that ur looking for (with photos if u can) so that when ur shopping/thrifting u know to get what u want for summer. 

the important things for summer from my own fashion binder are bikinis, camisoles and mini skirts + shorts. bcuz i wrote that in my fashion binder i’ll look for and buy those specific clothing pieces for my summer wardrobe. do the same ✨

COMPANY ; 

it’s more fun when u spend some parts of ur summer with quality company so make sure to prepare that NOW so that then ur plans go smoothly in the summertime. 

make sure to have a list of things/activities that u wanna do this summer either alone or with company. and make plans according to that bcuz ur not about to be cooped up all summer, unless thats what u want ig.

now is the time to test the waters and propose ideas with ur friends about what u guys should do together this summer. maybe it’s simply hanging out, or going on a sort of vacation together. 

whatever it is, make sure that ur company is not only reliable/responsible but also that they have ur best interest at heart bcuz it’s gonna be hot girl summer and everyone’s gonna be out there 😭 u need someone to have ur back and someone that you can trust. 

THE INSPO/MOOD ;

skin is so glossy and smooth it almost looks wet. warm beaches and fruit platters. swimming like EVERYDAY, cruises and shopping sprees and vacations. dinners with ur girls, summer romances. natural yet so ethereal.

SUMMER FASHION LINK ;

i've already made a post that talked about summer wardrobe essentials and its linked right here. but the gist is that summer is all about vibrant colors and skin and shimmer.

PLAYLIST ;

for a proper hot girl summer u absolutely MUST have a proper hot girl summer playlist. the top songs on my summer playlist are jump by tyla, and the 250 remix of attention by newjeans. make sure that u formulate a couple playlists for summer because the music is what makes the season.

PRODUCTS AND ESSENTIALS ;

for the summertime i gravitate towards products that are more tropical and fruity which is a juxtaposition to what i usually smell like. cuz im a vanilla cupcake/strawberry poundcake scented girlie. but in the summer i kind of like to smell like a refreshing cocktail instead.

body shimmer

moisturizing lip oils

cute claw clips

mini fan that u can take in ur purse

thick body butters

a swimsuit on hand

some products that i recommend to achieve that scent are the bronzed coconut products from victorias secret pink, along with strawberry and champagne and fruit crush. the ulta beauty smoothie shower gels r also rly good. lastly bodycology has some great summer scents.

last but not least i rly hope that u guys prioritize having fun this summer and being the embodiment of beauty and confidence that GLOWS. stay safe and have an amazing hot girl summer ✨

[gomugomuno56]

Trafalgar Law Headcanon.

Law x gn!/fem! reader: when he has a crush

No spoilers ig? Just crack and fluff

𝔸 𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕞 𝕠𝕗 "𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥, 𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣".

This man, first of all he takes literally AGES to even acknowledge his feelings for you, and don't get me started on how long it'll take him to act on them.

He'll catch on quickly how you feel about him once he realises that he likes you, little dipshit is not at all gonna be nice with the teasing.

He hasn't liked anyone this way, though he's had his teenage phase *ahem*, so he's a little rusty.

To test what light you see him in, he tests the waters for a while by being a little more 'unprofessional' with you.

Don't get me wrong, he loves his crew and always joins them in silly little celebrations, but he'd much rather be in his room or the library or the medical room and study nerdy shit, not just because he has to but also because he is actually interested in them. So he might opt out of one of those earlier than usual and ask you whether you wanted to join him. It shocks you but you know who's even more shocked? Shachi who was sitting next to you spits out his drink not just through his mouth but also his damn nose. He'll probably panic and ask Law if he's ok or if he has a fever or something. Poor Law is so embarassed that he just says "nevermind" and sits back down before you even had time to react.

Like you two usually do spend one on one time together, but he's never asked you like that when everyone was around, not that anyone other than Shachi heard.

He'll try to spend more ALONE time with you, both doing completely different tasks but still being in the same room, just enjoying the silence.

Would probably let you have a boiler suit in a different colour, as long as it looks similar to the original white/cream colour.

Occasionally, he'd ruffle your hair as you pass by or complete some work for him, smiling at you randomly when your eyes lock, giving into your puppy-doe eyes a lot more often.

Would often want to assist you in your tasks/ or want you to be assisting him. MAKES sure you both are paired together often when on an island.

He loves listening to you talk(yap) , you were practically best friends other than the captain-subordinate dynamic, which is why initially Law thinks he likes you so much.

And when he finally tells you how he feels, bro is gonna be sweating BALLS, will NOT DARE to look you in the eyes, face so red you'd think he has a fever. But that will be atleast a good year or two after you joining him on his adventures.

Thanks for reading🙏🏻 (^thats me vanishing)

[eoieopda]

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.” 

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind. 

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you. 

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright. 

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response. 

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you. 

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you. 

You don’t reciprocate. 

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope. 

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk. 

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so. 

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever —  have to convince me to fuck you.” 

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple. 

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw. 

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access. 

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?” 

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat. 

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…” 

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it. 

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound. 

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life. 

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic. 

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.” 

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you. 

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist. 

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him. 

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you. 

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before. 

Christ. 

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you. 

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you. 

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

[anantaru]

DAY 4 — KNIFE KINK

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — dottore & pantalone (together)

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, knife kink + threesome, sub! reader who likes to be used, they share you, teasing, mean harbingers but they‘re pseudo nice to you ig, possessive of you as well, very mess & so much cum, all parties are consenting

you're dripping because of that scalding look on dottore's eyes, and the air was circulating through your unmoving figure on the bed when you watch him observe you, bitterly cold and glacial alike, touching around your bare skin as pantalone places his cock flat on your perfect cunt, leaving a sticky swell on your folds as you budged your pussy against his length.

"you really do like this, it seems." pantalone says sternly, nigh on an insulting timbre, and there was a monitoring peer on his eyes, the sort you'd claim to be demeaning— assuming that in one way, he couldn't fathom that someone would be willingly placed into this position, sandwiched in between two dangerous harbingers, the second and the ninth to be particular about it, claiming your body to their hearts content.

and it's when your body suddenly flinches as it caught onto the sound of metal strumming over your ear shells, your head urging you to turn right and figure out what the mysterious sound was all about. come to think of it, this certainly wasn't the first time you were placed on a bed, bare and with no clothing concealing your frame while being recklessly fucked and passed around by both men before one of them would come up with something new, something they'd love to try out on you.

conversely, when the doctor was taking something out of his pocket to show you, there was an inexplicable increase on pantalone, his dick becoming heavier and swelling whilst rolling over your clit, the underside of his length tingling at the sensation of your wet, sopping pussy touching him up all well and nicely that he couldn't resist himself to hump against you, harder this time, your whimpers loud and edging him on.

"are you willing to try this?" it's at the moment when you can finally recognize the indiscernible object in dottore's hand, a razor-sharp knife— with an engraving of the fatui insignia on either side of the blade, it appears to be quite expansive and crafty, and you swallow down the lump in your throat when he experimentally places it on your shoulder— not willing to move it around, he's testing the waters with you, seeing how far he could go and if you're even interested in the first place, prepared to dispose of it if you weren't.

you bite your bottom lip before speaking out through a tensed jaw, unable to believe that you're about to agree to this, "yes.." you mutter and can't do anything but let out a weak mewl, "i’ll do anything." never getting tired of how they're handling you, whispering a small, airy please when they hold you down under them.

"just be good then." dottore lightly presses the keen blade against the softness of your welcoming skin— it's so cold it had you flinch within seconds and your toes curl into the silken sheets when he advances to tease one of your nipples with the tip.

just as effortless as the doctor had you under his control, you simultaneously let go of a muffled cry when pantalone suddenly has entered you without warning, his cock thick and present, his muscular abdomen tensing as he towers on top, fucking his cock into you and stretching your hole wider, maybe that's the reason they both seem to work fluidly with each other, in numerous occasions.

you're being stimulated from both sides now, the cutting object moving on your chest and responsive breasts, grazing on top of your erected nipples while you're getting thrusted into over and over again as they use you, fondle with your body as if it's their property— which, it kind of was, nudging on your sweet spots only to make themselves cum in the process.

one might assume seeing fear in someone's eyes was the very one key factor to make dottore cum, but your sheer, pure willingness to try out whatever he presented in front of you, obviously made it impossible for him to see you in any kind of terror.

up to the present time, he'd lie if he would claim he didn't like what he watches happening in front of him though, taking pleasure on how you're becoming even prettier the moment you turn more desperate for them, "ohh— you're so wet." the ninth claims, letting the tip of his cock reach your insides, a broken growl covering the clearness of his words, baring his teeth and showing no mercy on your pussy.

his eyes roll back and he pants out when he feels how you're constricting around him particularly hard, noticing the vibration of each flutter, your walls sticking on his length and creaming all over his cock.

dottore cocks a brow, sliding the knife down to your clit, the still coldish blade coaxing a shiver right out of your spine, "indeed, it's precious, isn't it?" he lays the metal flat on top of your clit before sliding one hand to his stiff cock, slowly humping into his palm to complete and find bliss on the perfect view of your body. you're ethereal to them, there's no doubt, most desirable pet to them as well, no one was this impeccable and obedient, always there to rile both of them up— and dottore growls into his chest, fisting his stiff cock so desperately fast and hard that his own vision was turning littered and messy with white dots covered on top.

you feel your cheeks swell aflame, flustered and embarrassed at his sudden, unusual praise, which, granted, hearing any kind of praise from those two was a rare occurrence, so you weren't to blame for such reaction. but you were aware that neither of them would lie to you, not in predicaments such as those, when they're vulnerable themselves, on the brink of cumming and marking you up with their seed, until there's a white, milky film covering your naked body.

it's becoming too much now, and you can hear and listen to the wet, squelching sounds of your used pussy being fucked and split apart, reaching your hand over to curl around dottore's wrist that was holding the knife, crying out at the way you’re smearing your slick all over yourself and pantalone's cock and thighs.

"i-i'm close!" you squeal, arching your back, your body twitching and shaking as dottore swiftly replaces the knife with his rough digits, squeezing and rubbing on your puffy clit, your hips never hesitating, mindlessly pushing up to press against Pantalone's cock as if that'll make it somewhat faster for you— but it's coming to an end now, and your body bows in as you sob uncontrollably, hearing the sound of your rapid heart beating in your ears like a fire alarm going off.

a deep moan adds to the fast breathing of pantalone, and it's almost too low and rumbled to hear it, as if he was attempting to cover it up, but regardless it had long since bulged in his chest as he breathes out the probably most beautiful moan you've ever heard in your life, such rare noise making you pulse between your aching thighs as he realizes the power he had on you, and how you were throbbing on his length, the corners of his lips twisting into a devil like grin.

to take them into complete awe, it's when they spot that hazy smile on your face like there was nothing else on this world you'd enjoy more than being fucked by them, two big and powerful harbingers with the thought of their authority alone having you close your legs together to still the swell in your core.

it's all it took him, the squeezes of your cunt, your fucked out expression as cum messily soars from his cock the moment he pulls out of you, the warm liquid firing over your lower belly an obscene, gross amount that it shoots all up to your breasts as, at the same time— dottore fists himself faster, pulling his cockhead over one tit and whisking it over your nipples before blowing his load on top of you— your own body spasming at the weight of cum on you and the notice of a warmness and heaviness occupying both your body and mind, your mouth aching from all the screaming, your tits hurting from the sharp metal teasing the flesh, and your cunt still twitching from being fucked just the way you liked it.

just the way you needed it, before closing your eyes in fatigue— with a soothing silence hugging your trembling, exhausted skin, apart from hefty, broken blows and puffs, the smell of filth, sweat and sex penetrating your senses.

a hand silently jolts up at your cheek, your body wrung out but leaning into the warm touch before you hear the doctor speak once more, "good, very good." and you smile when he whispers it, humming against his palm cupping your head.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ratlikeclown]

WIP Wolverine x femReader 18+

“God, do you ever suck on anything other than Wade’s dick and cheap cigars?”

He leaned in close to your ear and growled,

“Ya lookin to find out Princess?”

x Deadpool kinda eventually lmfaoooo

FemY/n is mid 20’s - early 30’s

Tw for depression and like drug use mentions ig

🌶️🫵

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello 👋 This is the first fanfic that I have written in over 10 years the brain rot is so unbelievably real for wolverine and deadpool rn

its a little embarrassing tbh lmfaoo

—————————

I’m not really sure how to tag this tbh. I’ve never posted on tumblr. . It’s a little spicy and will get more interesting later. I just wanted to toss this small part out for readers to test the waters. Anyway um I’m not experienced writing y/n pov so please be nice.

Your friend, Wade Wilson, couldn’t take no for an answer. You knew that and yet you still had the audacity to tell him ‘no’ three times tonight. And about thirty minutes after you ignored his last phone call there he was, practically knocking down your door. It wasn’t like he couldn’t actually kick in your door, he was just being polite. 

The apartment buzzer went off. You sat up from your position on the couch, hoping he’d just give up and leave if you didn’t acknowledge him. Like a stray cat. Or a crackhead.

“Knock knock~” you heard his voice through the door. “I smell Hot Pockets and sadness I know you’re in there”

Gripping the arm of the sofa you waited hoping he’d have the common courtesy fuck off .You heard the door knob rattle. Dumbass.

With a click of the lock, your door swung open revealing Wade, grinning as he shoved his Baby Knife back into his coat.

“Wade, what the fuck? I told you-“

He clapped his hands loudly, interrupting you.

 “Let’s go Funshine Bear, the nights young and I’m not going anywhere without you” Wade marched past you, straight to your bedroom humming to himself.

“You look awful by the way, we’ll fix you up though.” He clicked his tongue and crooked a finger in your direction. You huffed angrily, sliding off the couch to follow him. 

You stopped in the doorway, almost refusing to step inside. He was elbows deep in your closet drawers, throwing clothes onto your bed, muttering his disapproval at every item he tossed.

You crossed your arms as you watched him. 

“Do you have anything that doesn’t look like you took it from the Walmart dumpster?” He pulled a drawer out from the dresser and dumped it on the floor. “You know the one I’m talking about, right? Where all the coke addicted bronies go to have a bone sess before band practice.”

You crossed your arms as you watched him. “Wade, I’m not in the mood to go out.”

You heard him sigh, but continued to riffle through your things. 

“That’s nonsense, the plot can’t continue with out you. Annnd we made these plans last week.”

He peeked at you from behind the open closet door. “I’m a little worried about you. You aren’t your chipper self lately”

“I’m just tired” You replied dismissively.

It wasn’t like Wade hasn’t been trying to cheer you up in his own way. For the last few weeks he’d text you obscure and quite frankly disturbing memes at 3 AM. Excitedly offer you drugs that he’s pilfered from the his blind roommate- (he knows you don’t do drugs, he just wanted to brag about stealing coke from Blind Al)

He’s also been sending you the strangest X-Men fan fiction. (His favorites were ‘old man yaoi’ including Professor Xavier and Magneto) Usually you eat that kind of stuff up, finding it funny that you knew some of the people that the fanfiction was written about, like a private joke between you and Deadpool. But worst thing he’s done has beencalling you almost every day and attempting to make plans with you, but you always seem to cancel last minute. So yeah, he has been trying. It just.. didn’t help.

Your eyes flickered to your wall of photos next to the closet door.  Pictures of your closest friends and family. Their arms around you laughing, smiling. Pictures of trips and silly outings that meant the world to you. You felt so much guilt and regret looking at them.

Depression was a bitch. It was like a rabid dog that wouldn’t let you get back on your feet. You felt it gnawing at you, causing you to lose interest in everyone and everything. You felt alone. Your eyes fell back to Wade, you watched your friend hard at work trying to match your shoes with a dress he had found. He was clueless. You couldn’t tell him any of this though, it would just make him worry more.

There was someone you did want to talk to though. To tell everything to. Someone that you had grown so close to the last few months.

You missed Logan.

This realization caused your face to heat and anxiety weld up in your chest. You balled your hands into fits thinking about that arrogant jerk. You’ve tried to be a friend to Wolverine. After all this wasn’t his reality. He was your timeline’s replacement. (Idk you should go watch the movie. I’m not explaining it.) and for a while, you thought you were friends.

Lately, if he wasn’t drunk and depressingly moody, he was angry and a massive dick. 

“Y/N? Look a little pink at the cheeks are you feeling OK?” Wade was now standing less than a foot from you, his brows furrowed. You hadn’t noticed him move.

Snapping back from your thoughts by Wades voice, you ran hands over your face as you turn towards the attached bathroom.

“Dude, I told you I’m just not feeling good-” You stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet “I don’t wanna hang out with-“

“Logan?”

“Your friends.” You finished. You felt your face flush deeper at his name being mentioned.

“That’s what I said” Wade followed you to the bathroom, but thankfully didn’t come in. He stood outside while you closed the door. 

“Trust me honey, I know he’s the embodiment of a sentient happiness starved cactus whose father never loved him but-“

You groaned, trying to avoid Wades ramblings you turned the water on full blast, drowning out the remainder of his sentence. You splashed water on your face and ran a comb through your hair. You heard Wade continue talking, almost to himself while also sounding like he was talking to someone else in the room  as well. Someone you couldn’t see. He did that often. It was creepy.

You swung the door open frowning.

“-sometimes he stabs me through the face to shut me up, but I know he does it because he’s not good with words.”

Wade smile faded when he saw your face. 

“It’s kinda hot”

“I don’t want to talk about it Wade.” You sat down onto your bed with a huff despite the pile of clothes and plastic hangers. You stared at your hands. You felt the overwhelming weight of your anxiety in your chest and stomach. Maybe you should go out. Maybe he won’t show up tonight. Maybe-

“You look like you wanna talk about it Friendo.”

Wade joined you by dramatically pushing all the clothes off the bed, making an even bigger mess of your room. He flopped down onto your bed stomach first, propping himself up by his elbows. He kicked his feet and smiled at you.

“I’m all ears.”

“I don’t know how to start” You admitted.

“Start with an ‘I feel’ statement” 

Another sigh escaped your mouth. How did you feel? It felt complicated. You met him a few months ago. At first he was rude and closed off. Then he slowly began to open up, sure you still bickered and fought like cats, but it had playful undertones. (‘Sexy undertones’ Wade had joked) When he was being genuine and open, it felt like you could talk to him for hours. Though he never spoke for too long, he would to listen to you earnestly. Up until a few weeks ago, that is.

“I feel like Logan hates me. I feel like he would rather huff paint thinner than have a decent conversation with me.”

Wade laughed. “Well that’s not true, I can’t get him to huff anything.”

You shot him a look.

“Listen, I invite Mr. Grumpy out every time. But he’s too busy sulking to get fucked up with us. He would rather get drunk and pass out in the floor of the apartment. He probably won’t even show up.” Wade gave you a reassuring look.

“If he does you’re gonna be there with me. We’ll leave if you feel uncomfortable at all.”

He rolled over and sat up, putting an arm around you.

“I’ve just noticed your mood lately I need you to know that I love you.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze.  “-and I miss getting fucked up with you.”

“Will you stab him for me if he’s mean?”

“Of course. I always have Baby Knife on me.”

“Fine. Let me get ready”

He jumped off the bed excitedly.

You pushed Wade out the door to get dressed, pausing in the doorway. “Wade?”

“Yes Friendo?” He turned on his heel

“I love you too bud”

He squealed as you closed the door.

~~~

You never understood why Wade wouldn’t just buy a car. He makes decent money (he doesn’t) and could probably afford a nice one. (He couldn’t) At one point you recall him having a weird hyperfixation with the Honda Odyssey (he fucked Wolverine in one) (allegedly)

Instead, you were climbing into the back of a dirty beat up taxi cab that his friend, Dopinder, drove for a living. At least you didn’t have to walk. Dopinder was a sweet guy, if not a little unhinged every once in a while. 

“You look quite beautiful tonight Miss Y/N” He complimented you as you settled in the back seat. You smiled at him, appreciating the comment. Wade had picked out your dress and you felt a little exposed and out of your element in it. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a slick black dress with a low neck line. The dress was short, ending a little above the knee. The problem was the slit up the side. You wanted to wear tights under the outfit but Wade insisted on fishnets. ‘You look like a goth baddie’  he had assured you, ‘Like a Hot Topic clearance rack version of Morticia Addams.’

Wade hopped in the front and immediately started to flip through the radio channels. Dopinder usually had on pleasant sounding Indian pop music but Wade settled on some heavily censored 90’s hip hop. 

The drive was rocky. Wade, who almost never kept his hands to himself, would grab poor  Dopinder while dancing along to the music causing the cab to swerve. A lot.

Having made it to the bar in one piece, you quickly scrambled out of the back, thanking the young man for the ride. 

Wade waited for you at the door.

~~~

The bar was loud and dark. One of those typical bars you see in movies, filled with moving bodies and cigarette smoke. Music pumped through the speakers with some people lingering near the bar while others swayed on the dance floor. Wade bounced through the crowd pulling you along towards the bar, where his group of friends took up half the bar area. You scanned the crowd nervously. No Logan. Your muscles relaxed, and you moved with a little more energy.

Wade greeted his friends with various enthusiastic greetings and crude gestures. You smiled in greeting and waved at a friend you recognized but sat down on a stool next to where Wade stood, him blocking you from most of the other bar patrons. There was a part of you that was a little disappointed that Logan wasn’t here. It made sense if he didn’t show up here, this bar was honestly more like a club, upbeat and energetic. He’s used to dark depressing dive bars, places you can drink yourself into a coma and not be bothered. But the few times he had shown up here you had thought that he enjoyed your company, for a little while at least. During times when the others were off doing dubious shit somewhere, he’d sit with you at the bar. You even managed to get him to dance with you once. That all changed recently. Something happened that caused him to be distant and often rude for seemingly no reason.

Everyone seems to be so happy to see Wade and he, them. You didn’t really know why you were here. It already felt overwhelming. You used to love coming here. Drinking and dancing, playing pool badly and belting out shitty country music karaoke with everyone. Lately, things have felt different. You’ve lost interest in a lot of the things you use to enjoy, spending your days just working and rotting in your apartment. This was too much.

Wade touched your shoulder causing you to jump.

“Hey we’re off to play some darts you in?” 

You smiled at your friend. “You really wouldn’t want me to play, you’d end up as the dart board.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Sweetheart” Wade laughed, “we’ll be over there if you change your mind.” He made a heart with his hands and turned toward the group already making their way to the play area.

You sat quietly at the counter with a glass of something sweet and strong. You wanted to feel a buzz but you needed it to taste good. Your eyes scanned the crowd, people watching. You watched people dance and sway to the newest Kesha song blaring through the speakers. You witnessed a near fight over a pool game. You heard Wade’s laughter from across the room, his friends echoing along. You felt alone. It was your fault you told yourself. If you wanted to feel better you would’ve gotten up and joined your friends. But here you sat, being miserable on purpose. 

“Hey beautiful, mind if I joined you?” Your head snapped up meeting the face of someone you didn’t recognize. He was good looking, in a vanilla frat boy kinda way. With his backwards hat, sleeveless tank, skinny jeans and all.

But he smiled like a wolf.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to smile politely, but you had a twinge of anxiety growing in your chest. “I’m not really in the mood for company” 

The man smiled motioning to the bartender for a drink. “Can’t I just buy you a drink? “

“Really, I’m fine” You turned back to your drink, your eyes unfocused, hoping that if you just ignored him he’d leave. Your gut flipped when you heard him pull out the stool next to you. He wasn’t leaving.

“Come on babe, I can show you a good time”

“She said she ain’t looking for company bub.” A low voice growled behind you. A beer bottle came down heavily in between you and the creep. Your eyes trailed the hairy but beautifully sculpted arm to its owner, though you already knew who it belonged to. Logan. Even in this lighting you could see his rugged face. His hair was styled in its iconic cat ear shape. His beard was trimmed nicely combined with his thick muttonchops. His eyes were a little hazy but beautiful and dark. You met those eyes for a brief moment, he smirked at you before his gaze flickered to the other man.

 “Well?” He rumbled, barring his teeth.

“Naw, I was here first grandpa, you fuck off.” The frat guy stood up straight, trying to look intimidating.

“Trust me” Logan chuckled. He straightened cracking his knuckles before raising his fists and extending three razor sharp Adamantium claws from each hand.

“You don’t want none of this”

~~~

“You didn’t have to do that” you looked down at your glass avoiding Logan’s gaze. You heard him land heavily in the bar stool next to you. He tapped the counter signaling the bartender who was very clearly avoiding your side of the bar.

“I wasn’t going to have some limp dick creeping on you.”

“I was handling it” 

“You didn’t seem like you were handling anything Princess.” He scoffed.

You shot him a look. He smirked as he chugged his remaining beer, you couldn’t help watch his throat bob as he drank. He finished and loudly set the bottle down. He met your eyes and you looked away feeling your face heat violently.

“You thirsty princess?” He asked as the bartender set down two shots of something before scurrying away. He slid one glass your way.

“No thank you. I have my own drink”

You pushed the glass back his way. He eyed your almost empty cocktail and shrugged.

“Suit yourself” he took the glasses and knocked back both shots simultaneously slamming the glasses back down. After a few moments of silence, where you clearly felt Logan eyeing you the entire time, you sighed.

“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight Logan.” You admitted. Another beer had appeared in front of him, he took a swig. He eyed you, his eyes slowly trailing from your face down your body. They rested at the slit in your dress, exposing most of your fishnet covered thigh. You felt a ping in your lower belly, causing you to cross your legs uncomfortably. His eyes followed to movement. He licked his lips and met your eyes again smirking.

“Why didja miss me?”

You looked down at the growing piles of shredded napkins you had been anxiously ripping apart. 

“Yes” you said at last. There was no point in lying. You did miss him. Even seeing him now, clearly drinking away his problems, you couldn’t help but feel glad he was there with you. You were glad he scared away that creep, despite his now passive aggressive demeanor. You met his eyes again.

He snorted and tipped the beer to his lips.“You’re a fucking liar”

You felt your gut squeeze with anger. Why was he treating you this way? You didn’t ask him to step in to a play hero. You didn’t ask him for anything. You just wanted to get out of your shitty apartment for one goddamn night. You balled your fists and spun to face him fully.

“What. The. Fuck.” You clenched your teeth annunciating each word bitterly. “Is. YOUR PROBLEM”

“My PROBLEM,” he practically spat the word,

”is that I have to deal with your moody ass attracting the eye of every fucking creep in this place when you very fucking clearly don’t want to be here.” 

You threw your hands up angrily and gestured around the bar. 

“I didn’t want to deal with any of this Logan. I just wanted to go out with my FRIENDS, which I used to think you were one. I don’t fucking know what prick you had up your ass lately, but you sure as hell don’t act like you like me. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

He was silent for a moment, studying your face, making it turn even redder. Then he laughed. He shook his head laughing and sloppily chugged his second beer.

You had enough. You needed to get away from him. You shoved yourself back, tipping the stool over in the process.

“Come find me when you figure out what you want.” You turned to leave. You made it a few steps before you heard Logan’s voice call mockingly.

“Nice dress by the way” 

You didn’t turn to look at him.

“Fuck you, Logan”

~~~

You ran your hands under cold water, leaning over the sink you splashed the water into your face and sighed. You looked into your mirrored face. This was a disaster.

Maybe if you just stayed in the bathroom you can avoid everyone until Wade was ready to leave. You felt bad that you ran off instead of finding him. You would’ve felt safe with Wade.

Your head was swimming, from the alcohol or the interaction with Logan you couldn’t tell.

The speaker above you crackled playing the opening notes to ‘Dirty Diana’, a favorite of yours. A banger Wade would say.

Without warning the door sung open and Logan stumbled in. 

“You’re in the wrong bathroom you drunk asshole” you snapped. His eyes met yours from a brief moment before he swayed slightly and took a step forward.

He pushed past you wordlessly and began kicking open the bathroom stalls. They were all empty. 

“Dude get out” You gripped the sink behind you, watching Logan warily. You knew deep down he wouldn’t hurt you but you obviously didn’t want him in here with you. He turned to you, taking a step forward.

”I needed to talk to you”

“Yeah, you could have waited til I got out of the ladies room??” 

“No.” he growled before in one swift movement he was in front of you, his arms on either side of the sink trapping you between them. Your breath came out in a shudder and your knees wobbled. This honestly was a thing out of a fantasy, something that you were embarrassed to admit you’ve thought about. You had been fighting your feelings for this big stupid man, stuck between thoughts of friendship and lust. God, he wasn’t helping with the latter.

“Logan”

“I’m sorry” he said looking as remorseful as he could under the circumstances.

“What did you need to talk about that couldn’t wait Lo?” You swallowed, gently lifting your hand and placing it on his chest, pushing lightly. His hands moved to your legs keeping you from pushing him further.

“Ya told me to find you when I figured out what I wanted”

“Yeah” You scoffed. “Enlighten me”

~~~

“I want you”

Logan leaned over you, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His fingers dug in lightly, the movement making your legs feel like jelly. You gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. He was so firm and warm under your hands.

His face was inches from yours, his expression unreadable in the low lighting. You smelled the smoke and alcohol on his breath.

“God, do you ever suck on anything other than Wade’s dick and cheap cigars?”

He leaned in close to your ear and growled, 

“Ya looking to find out princess?”

You felt a ping of desire sink into your lower belly as his hand moved from your waist.

Shivers went down your spine as his hands slid up your torso coming to a stop right below your breasts. One of his thumbs brushed upwards lightly, teasingly.

You sucked in a breath as he lowered his face to your neck and brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin. His facial hair tickling your jaw.

“Logan, you’re drunk.” You croaked out, pulling away slightly, your hands sliding from his shoulders. He moved with you.

You felt his lips brush your skin again, another kiss, before his thumb slid upward against your breast. Fuck. The wet heat between your legs was unbearable. You needed some sort of friction. You definitely noticed the pressure from his pants pressed against your stomach. So close, you just needed anything. You bucked your hips against his, almost involuntarily, causing a rumble to escape his throat. His thumb stroked again.

“That’s a good girl” His head bobbed lower dragging his tongue down as he kissed your neck. You could feel him smile as he sucked the skin of your collar bone in a way that would definitely leave a mark. Holy Hell. What was happening.

You were sick of your neck getting all the attention as you reached up to take his face in your hand. He practically melted at your touch, his breath hitching as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. You wanted him, needed his mouth on yours. You pulled his face up, a little roughly, to meet your gaze. You thought you heard him let out a little surprised chuckle from the movement. His eyes were half lidded as he met yours. He was drunk, and you realized, so were you. You leaned in, your lips feather light against his-

You jumped at Wade’s voice from the other side of the door, calling for you.

Shit. You dropped your hand away from his face.

Logan growled, low and angry. He abruptly took his hot hands from your body and leaned his head to your ear, you felt his lips against your skin.

“Some other time then, darlin’.” He pulled away from you swaying slightly, before grabbing his beer from the counter and yanking open the bathroom door.

~~~

Anyway, thanks for reading. I guess I don’t know if this is any good and I will be posting the rest on Ao3 eventually

[madebycloud]

Stuck By The Glue Onto You

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: while out on a hiking date, you decide to test if wednesday can ever get a tan. but your questions about tanning only seem to annoy her. (requested by canvascoloredin) warnings/themes: soft!wednesday, hiking, picnic, r is touch starved ig words: 2.9k

You're wandering through the forest, surrounded by trees, with birds chirping in the distance.

You begin to walk through the woods, the soft dirt squishing under your sneakers. As you wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, you find yourself wondering what possessed you to do something like this.

“God, it's as hot as Satan's ass in here,” you mutter, your girlfriend following not far behind.

“Why are we even out here?”

You couldn't help but smirk. “We're out here to test something—a theory, even,” you reply, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice, though you can tell she's already figured it out.

“Test what? My patience?” she snaps, her eyes rolling towards the sky.

You sigh and turn around to face her. “You're wearing all black, you know it's so hot outside,” you say, your face dripping with sweat.

She raises an eyebrow at you. ”So? I'm not the one sweating.”

You shrug, your shirt is already soaked through. “It suits you anyway,” you mumble to yourself.

You pause in your tracks, looking around for a spot to rest. Finally spotting a nearby tree, you make your way over to it and flop down against the trunk, your body seeking some much-needed relief from the sweltering summer heat. 

You turn to your girlfriend, who's still standing, and raise an eyebrow at her. “Do you tan?”

“Do I what?” she replies, looking confused.

“Tan,” you repeat, rolling your eyes. “You know, when your skin darkens in the sun, do you think it's possible for you to do that?”

“Do I look like I tan?” she deadpans, and you can practically hear the lowercase ‘duh’ at the end of her sentence. 

“Wow, I have no idea,” you reply sarcastically. “Come,” you say, patting your ankle for her to come sit beside you.

She grudgingly makes her way over to you, plopping down on the ground with a huff. “This is stupid,” she mumbles.

“I want to see if you'll ever tan.” You've always wanted to see Wednesday tan, even just a little bit.

“Do you really think that's going to happen?”

“I don't know,” you admit. “That's why we're out here.”

Will Wednesday ever get tanned? Maybe, maybe not. One thing's for sure though, this heat is unbearable.

A moment later, Wednesday stands up without a word and continues walking down the path, leaving you behind.

“Are you serious?” you call out, catching up to her. “Where the hell are you going?”

Without slowing her pace, she throws back a cheeky response. “Wherever you were planning on leading me out.”

You run to catch up to her, huffing and puffing as you try to keep up. “Slow down,” you say, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Well, do you know where that is?” you ask, catching up to her and walking beside her.

“That's what the path is for, genius” she replies, gesturing to the obvious dirt path beneath her feet. 

All of a sudden, Wednesday stops dead in her tracks, and you almost knock her over while running after her. She glares at you, clearly not pleased with being bumped into.

“Watch it,” she snaps. 

You raise an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by her reaction, but then you notice the river flowing ahead of her. “Oh, I hadn't noticed,” you say, trying not to sound like a total idiot.

Without a word, Wednesday extends her hand to you, palm up. “Shoes,” she orders.

You pause for a moment, trying to process the request. “My what?” you repeat, confused.

“Shoes!” she repeats, more loudly this time.

With a quick movement, you slip your feet out of your shoes and place them into Wednesday's outstretched hand. She then does the same, and as you both step into the river, you can't help but feel the cold water up to your ankles.

“Be careful,” she warns. The water splashes against the rocks as she moves across them.

You reluctantly follow behind her, not appreciating her condescending tone. “What do you think I am, a child?” you mutter under your breath. “Ugh, it's cold.”

Your footing is unsteady as you try to balance on the slippery rocks, and without warning, you slip and stumble, almost falling head-first into the shallow water.

Before you hit the ground, Wednesday grabs your arm and pulls you back. “I said, be careful,” she scolds. Your heart races as you regain your footing, feeling the weight of her gaze on you.

“Sorry,” you whisper, trying to catch your breath. You follow closely behind her, taking each step carefully.

You stumble out of the water and land on the dirt path, feeling the mud between your toes. Wednesday, drop your shoes at your feet. 

“You could've died back there,” she says with a hint of concern in her voice, already putting her shoes on.

You quickly tie up your shoes and chase after her, trying not to slip on the wet rocks by the river's edge. “Wait up!” you shout, but she ignores you and continues walking. Frustrated, you pick up the pace and catch up to her. “Can you please slow down?” you huff, still catching your breath.

“I told you to be careful,” she says, not even looking back at you.

“I know,” you mutter, still panting as you try to keep up.

But she doesn't seem to be slowing down at all.

Suddenly, a clever idea pops into your mind. You stop walking and pretend to slip on the rocks. “Oh no! I'm going to slip into the rocks! Help! I need a hand to help me!” you cry out, pouting like a child.

Wednesday turns around and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Do you really need me to hold your hand?” she asks, not sounding very convinced.

“You know, that's one of the things couples do.”

Wednesday scoffs. “Right, and what if I don't want to be that couple? What then?”

“Then you have to hold my hand even more,” you reply, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

She extends her hands at you. “I'll count from one to ten, and if you haven't grabbed my hand, I'll throw you off the cliff.” Not wanting to get thrown off a cliff, you run as fast as you can, barely catching up to Wednesday just as she reaches five. You grab her hand, swinging it back and forth.

You lean in to whisper into her ear, “You're sweet, you know that?”

“What did you say?” she asks. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you can't take your eyes away for a minute. You feel her grip on your hand tighten just a little bit. 

You take a deep breath and lean in a little closer, your lips barely brushing against her ear as you whisper the three words. “You heard me.”

“I'm not sweet,” she mutters, looking away from you.

But no matter how hard she tries, she can't erase the small smile that keeps creeping onto her face, and you can't help but smile back at her. “Yes, you are,” you say, still whispering into her ear. “And I'll keep saying it, whether you like it or not.”

She quickly pulls her hand away from you, pretending to have heard nothing. “I hate you,” she replies, looking away and picking up her pace.

“Stop it,” you complain, reaching for her hand again. “You don't have to be so cold.”

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest as you wrap your fingers around hers and start swinging her hand again. Wednesday sighs, but she doesn't pull her hand away from yours. 

“And I'm glad you came with me.”

“Just promise me you won't do anything dumb this time.”

You nod, still grinning at her. “I promise,” you say, reaching up with your free hand to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. 

She nods. “Good,” she says. “I don't want to lose you.”

“See? I told you, you're sweet.”

“Just shut up.”

“What would happen if you didn't save me?” you ask, still swinging your hands.

She raises an eyebrow at you, looking you up and down, as if she's trying to decide if she should take your question seriously. “Obviously, dead.”

“Okay, but what about you?”

She shrugs. “What about me?”

“What would happen to you after I hit the rock?” you repeat, a little more desperate this time. 

Wednesday narrows her eyes at you, trying to figure out if you're joking or just an idiot. “I'll probably be on the news, saying, Breaking news: Idiot girlfriend hits rock and dies, and now I'm the main suspect because I was the only one there with her.”

You can't help but chuckle at her response. “Your girlfriend?” you repeat.

Wednesday nods. “My girlfriend,” she says, her tone now a bit softer.

Then you trail your thumb over hers and smirk at her. “Her name is...?” you ask, curious to see how she'll respond. 

She rolls her eyes at you. “Y/N,” she says.

“What do you think about her?” you ask, biting your lip to hide the blush rising in your cheeks.

Wednesday trails off, her eyes darting around as if searching for the right words. “She's amazing, adorable, beautiful, and…” she trails off again.

“And?” you prompt.

“And don't tell her that, because her ego will boost even more than it already does,” she continues. 

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but before you can respond, Wednesday turns and starts walking away. “You and your clumsy curiosity,” she mutters under her breath.

—

“Seriously, here?” Wednesday asks you with a raised eyebrow as you start to prepare the blanket for the picnic while the scorching sun beats down on the grass.

“I told you, I'm here to test something,” you remind her as you drop the blanket.

Wednesday rolls her eyes and walks away, but you follow after her. “Please, just a few minutes,” you plead.

—

You patiently wait for her in the tree, hoping that she'll come back soon. After a few minutes of her sunbathing—or getting fried, as you put it—she finally walks towards you.

You stand up and approach her, looking her up and down. “You didn't get a tan,” you say. “Are you dead?”

“No, but you will be soon,” she retorts.

You cross your arms, tilting your head to the side as you place a hand on your chin. “What about you taking off your clothes?” you suggest, teasing her further. “I guess those black clothes are blocking the sun.”

Wednesday lets out a huff of frustration and punches you in the arm—not too hard, but hard enough for you to know she's serious. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding,” you grumble, rubbing your arm where she hit you.

You grab the blanket and make your way to the tree, spreading it out on the ground. You both enjoy a picnic together, eating sandwiches and chatting about various topics. 

Eventually, Wednesday pulls out a book from her bag and begins to read. You glance at the book's cover, trying to make out the title. It looks like some sort of mystery novel. 

You glance down at her lap, hesitating before finally asking, “Can I?” She nods, not even taking her eyes off the book. You crawl onto her lap, resting your head on her thighs, and watch as Wednesday continues reading. 

You drift off to sleep, listening to the sound of her pages turning and her breathing. 

Once she notices that you are sleeping, Wednesday runs her fingers through your hair, pushing it back. You peek at her through closed eyes, your smirk widening. “Do you tan?” you ask, your voice raspy.

“You asked the same question twice.”

“Okay, maybe I phrased it wrong,” you finally manage, taking a deep breath. “I really just mean, have you ever gotten a tan? You know, from being out in the sun all day?”

She nods slowly, not taking her eyes off her book.

“When?” you follow up, trying to glean more information.

She raises an eyebrow at you, knowing full well what you're trying to get at. “You just made me tan in the sun to 'test something', didn't you?” she says, making air quotes with her fingers.

“Right, right. I forgot,” you mumble, kicking a rock in embarrassment. 

You take a deep breath and let it out, leaning back on her lap. “But-” you begin, catching yourself before you ask another stupid question. “You know, I've seen people get a nice golden glow from some time in the sun.” You try to play it off.

Deciding to change the subject, she pinches your nose. “Hey!” you hiss, swatting her hand away. “That's not nice,” you mutter. Wednesday just shrugs and goes back to reading her book. 

“Do you tan?” Wednesday returns the question to you, her eyes still locked on the page in front of her. 

“No, of course not,” you reply without hesitation. “I'm not the one dressed in black from head to toe in this heat.”

“Well, excuse me for having a fashion sense.”

“I didn't say it wasn't stylish,” you retort. “Seriously though, Wednesday, the sun has been beating down on us for hours, and you haven't even gotten a speck of color,” you continue, shaking your head.

“I'm not sure why you're so obsessed with my pale skin, but it's not going to happen, okay?” She punctuates her sentence with an even bigger eye roll.

You sigh, staring up at the blue summer skies. “Don't take me too seriously. I just think you'd look pretty cute with a little color in your cheeks,” you say, your voice soft.

“Yeah, right,” she mumbles, dismissing your opinion.

“I'm serious,” you insist. “Just imagine it, Wednesday: the sun, the sand, the waves. You, in an adorable bikini, enjoying the heat.”

“I'd never wear a bikini in a million years, but the sun and the sand... maybe.”

You're just about to give up and let her read in peace when you suddenly remember something.

“Wait,” you say, leaning forward a little to catch her attention. “Did you know that some people actually pay money to get a fake tan?”

“Well, not me,” you continue, “but I've seen it before. People go to these tanning salons and pay money to lie in a bed that shoots UV rays at their skin, all in the name of looking more 'healthy' and 'glowing.' Can you believe it?”

“Honestly, I don't see the point in paying money for a fake tan when you can just get one for free by lying in the sun.”

“You have a point there,” you say, grinning at her. “But then again, some people just don't want to put in the effort to tan naturally.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes at you. “To each their own, I guess,” she says, continuing to read her book.

You try not to stare at her for too long, not wanting to cause her any discomfort, but it's hard to look away. 

“You look exhausted,” she comments, her finger continuing to trace patterns on your chin.

After a while, you start to feel drowsy. The heat and the soothing sound of the rustling leaves have taken its toll on you, and you start to drift off to sleep, still resting your head on Wednesday's lap.

As you doze off, you feel Wednesday's hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you. “Hey, wake up,” she says softly, causing you to stir and open your eyes.

You feel embarrassed, not knowing how long you've been out.

“Do you feel rested?”

“Yeah,” you respond, still feeling a bit disoriented. “Thanks for waking me up,” you add, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Wednesday nods, closing her book and setting it aside. “No problem,” she replies. “I just wasn't sure if you were going to sleep on my lap forever.”

“What can I say? Your lap is pretty comfy.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but at least I'm comfortable.”

You sit up, quickly rolling up the blankets and stashing the snacks back into the backpack you brought.

“Do you have any more questions for me?” she asks.

You shake your head. “No, I think I'm good for now.”

“Suit yourself,” she replies with a smirk, then helps you load up the last few things that you packed.

“Don't move!” you say as you quickly grab out your phone. She squints her eyes, looking confused. 

“I want to take a picture of you. Stand right there,” you add, pointing with your finger to the perfect position. 

“For...?” she asks, wondering what kind of strange photo you have in mind.

Shrugging your shoulders, you reply, “Because my girlfriend didn't get tanned after walking in the sun for hours, and this is the proof of that.” You step beside her and take a selfie together, your cheeky grin contrasting with her blank stare.

“Let's go,” she declares before starting to walk away.

“Wait for me,” you call after her, your feet pounding the ground as you try to catch up. “You forgot to hold my hand? I might fall,” you say in a fake-helpless tone, trying your best to look pitiful.  

“Oh, fine,” she replies, stopping in her tracks and turning around to face you. “Are you a child? Because I'm not your mother,” she scoffs.

With a heavy sigh, she reaches out her hand, rolling her eyes as you clasp it in yours, swinging it back and forth as you walk together. 

“You want to hold my hand so badly?” she asks.

“Yes,” you reply with a cheeky grin. “I don't want to get lost or something.”

She shrugs and interlocks her fingers with yours, wondering how she got roped into this. “You're so annoying,” she mutters under her breath.

“What was that?” you ask, pretending not to hear her.

[rensukei]

↻ ...something so innocent

in which you make one right move, and you're suddenly all they want. ft. tsukishima kei & iwaizumi hajime

cw use of feminine clothing and pet names but never directly uses she/her prns, heavily suggestive. not proofread. wc: 1.2k

a/n ik this topic is vague but i LOVE the song i got the idea from. lay me down in my grave in 60 years and play this song. watch me come back to life from this mf beat. also apologies for the lack of paragraph indentation my computer just didn't like the idea of keeping those spaces ig

of all people to test, tsukishima was not one of them; especially on the night that the sendai volleyball team was hosting a formal.

you in your pretty little dress, seated right next to the refined blonde—short his glasses this evening, instead swapped out for contacts and an all black suit—, were so perfect, keeping a watchful eye on your posture and tone of voice while in the presence of such opulent volleyball figures.

you turn to meet your painstakingly handsome fiancé, cursing him for how good he looks clad in black. "how's the wine, kei?" you ask, well aware of the answer.

he sets his glass down, taking extra care to not clang it against the table. "i'm trying my hardest to not wince at the taste of it." he lowly says with the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. "i'm sure you aren't doing to well with it either though, princess. last time you had wine you were crying on the bathroom floor with my shirt because you thought you 'lost me.'"

"oh please, that was one time! i can handle a little red wine... and don't try to act like i don't notice you clenching the fabric of my dress with every sip you take, hypocrite." you reach ahead of you, grabbing a full glass of water. "have some."

"as if this will help," he takes a sip, "it feels like i've been served straight rubbing alcohol."

you giggle at his quip, "oop," you gently place your hand on the edge of the glass, "don't spill, kei." suddenly speaking just loud enough to where he could hear your faint whisper, you were too focused on the task at hand to realize the intimacy of your actions, "we don't need to be crying on the floor with my shirt now, do we?"

its by the grace of god that he didn't throw that very glass across the room and run out the door with you in his hand. something in the tone of your voice—or perhaps just the hushed, innocent nature of which it came across—made him flush a furious claret, similar to the repulsive beverage that may or may not have contributed to the slow heat rising to his cheeks.

after quickly recovering from the affect your words had on him, he sets the water down on the table as his hand slides underneath the tablecloth and onto your leg. his head dips down, lips dangerously close to your ear as his head is now hidden from the rest of the guests.

"oh, but we could be, princess," he softly mutters, "wouldn't that be fun? 'could put on a show for everyone—you'd like that now, wouldn't you angel?"

and just as quickly as it happened, it ended just as fast. his stature returned to his normal posture as if nothing happened; as if the most sinful words didn't fall past his lips. one thing stayed, though; his hand kept it's place on you underneath that table for the rest of the night.

iwaizumi had just gotten home after a long day at practice, walking into your shared home with a huff as he sets his bags down. moving into the kitchen following the faint smell of cooking, he finds you above the stove with shorts and a tank top on, tied together with a pretty little apron hugging your figure.

"ah, welcome home, haji!!" you drop the utensils from your hand and run up to welcome him with a tight embrace.

he receives your affection as a small grunt slips past his lips at the impact. "well hello, angel," he revels in the way you fit against him, then quickly remembers that he's a sweaty volleyball trainer who hasn't showered yet. "ah, hold on, let me go shower-"

"let me run it for you," slipping out from his arms, you flip the stove off and move the empty pan to the sink, "i haven't actually started cooking yet so it can wait."

moving across the kitchen to where you keep your aprons, your back faces the worn out iwaizumi as he watches your hands slip behind you to undo the bow that was so neatly tied. but, uh oh, it seems as though it's accidentally gotten all knotted up-

"oh gosh.. haji, can you come help me with this? i think- i think it's stuck.."

its a mystery as to why something so innocent could possibly effect him this way. ...helping you untie the knot on your apron? this does not prompt him bending you over the counter in any instance. ever.

he tries his damned hardest to swat the indecent thoughts bubbling up in his mind away as he makes his way over to your struggling frame. it was so hard not to just fold you over right then and there; your hands behind your back, your hair up and out of the way... it was all too perfect.

he couldn't help the way his hands instinctively slid beneath the rough fabric of the apron, feeling the supple top under his calloused fingers.

"you know, doll, i had such a long day," he says lowly as his hands find their way around your body, "would you mind... helping me out a little?"

the unexpected movement and actions of your lover catch you by surprise, a sudden warmth beginning to pool. "oh, baby- i haven't even started dinner y-"

"aw, but it's okay, pretty. i'm not too hungry, anyways," he turns you around to meet his gaze, a look you know all too well at this point in your relationship. your head lifts as you reach up and graze his lustful lips with yours in a feverish kiss as he undoes the problematic knot at the small of your back, an action he's a bit too familiar with as his skillful hands waste no time.

needless to say, dinner was neglected and the shower was (fortunately) postponed.

ps. i was going to do three-four charas but i got bored and impatient ;)

©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 :: tpwk!!

[celestiababie]

Heyyy! If you’re open for requests, there’s this TikTok that I saw where a pregnant lady had her husband lift her heavy belly for a few minutes and it gave her some relief. I somehow could see Mingyu do that. His wife having a hard time getting used to her growth and him trying his best to help her 🫠🫠🫠

Heavy On Your Love- KMG

Pairings: Stay at home husband! Mingyu x fem! reader

Genre: fluff, hint of suggestiveness but very innocent overall, domestic au!, established relationship!

Warnings: Pregnant reader, emotional reader, cursing, mentions of pain and body insecurities, mentions of sex but nothing too bad I promise (still my account is 18+) let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 811

Summary: Being pregnant was stressful at times...a lot of the time and all Mingyu wanted was to take the weight off of your shoulders.

A/N: I have seen this!!!! Thank you so much for this request. As soon as I read this I wanted to write for it....ig househusband Mingyu really is my biggest muse... Again this can serve as a mini prequel but you don't have to read any of the other parts. Feedback is appreciated!

Series Masterlist

With a heavy sigh, you leaned up against the doorframe of the master bathroom, a grimace on your face as tears started to form in the corner of your eyes.

You tried to control your tears as best as you could. You did not want to get emotional over such a trivial thing, but between the body aches, the hormones, and the fact you felt so heavy and round...yeah, it was understandably hard to keep emotions balanced.

For the past twenty minutes or so, you had been trying to bend down and look for the small hair scrunchy you had somehow managed to drop and couldn't find. The last thing you wanted was to call out for your husband to bother him with such a pathetic task, but lately, even putting on underwear tested your abilities.

You silently gnaw on your bottom lip, weighing out your options before setting your ego aside, calling out for your husband who was currently in the midst of cooking the two (technically three at this point) of you dinner.

Without hesitation, Mingyu rushes up the stairs to check on you but quickly goes back down to turn off the stove before finally making it to your shared bedroom, where he examines your distressed state.

He was expecting you to ask for water or something, but you looked far too tired and sweaty for a woman who he told should get some rest.

"Baby, are you okay?! Did your water break early? Should I get the bag?" Your husband rushes out, stumbling over his words as he uses his long legs to make large strides toward you.

You shake your head, looking at him with a slightly apologetic expression painted across your face.

"No, this baby is not coming out yet, unfortunately. I just—um, I needed, uh—," you stammer out, more embarrassed with your request with the way Mingyu was eagerly waiting for your response with the most caring eyes in the world.

"Okay, so, I was resting like you told me, but then I wanted to read, but my hair kept bothering me, and I got up to get a scrunchy to get my hair out of my face, but I dropped it, and I have no idea where it is, and I know I could have just used a different one, but I tried to look for it myself, and I've just been bent down on the floor for twenty minutes looking for this stupid thing, and now I'm tired and feel disgusting and heavy, and everything hurts like crazy."

You finish off your rant with a heavy sigh, not fully aware of the tears that escaped your eyes until your husband's warm hands cup your face and brush the tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

"Okay, baby, I'll help you. It's okay. But please call me earlier if you need help. I don't want my beautiful, gorgeous wife to be in any extra pain," he softly replies, kissing your forehead before moving past you to look for this treacherous scrunchy that dared to make you upset.

He lets out a low hum as his eyes dart around everywhere in the bathroom, his eyes catching something in his peripheral after a few seconds. There sat the scrunchy in your bathtub. How it landed there? Mingyu didn't care.

He turns back to look at you, frowning at the pained look on your face, his mind scrambling for any way he could help. You feel his arms pull you away from the doorframe so he can stand behind you, gathering your hair into his hands before tying it back with the scrunchy for you.

You try to turn around to thank him face to face, but Mingyu uses his strong hands to steady you by your shoulders, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Can I try something I saw online?"

"Oh no, that question always leads to your most questionable moments or something sex-related and I know I've been hormonal and all but—oh. Oh...Mingyu," you let out a satisfied sigh as you feel light, Mingyu's hands underneath your stomach and lifting all that pressure right off your back.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes in silence, with Mingyu occasionally pressing kisses to your cheek. After a while, he slowly drops your stomach, not wanting to put all the weight back onto you too quickly and accidentally cause more pain.

He finally lets you turn around, giggling at the look of bliss on your face.

With a kiss on your nose, then your lips, he's the first one to speak.

"I'll do that for you as much as you want, okay? Now, go lay back down, and I'll bring dinner to you, and we can watch whatever you want in bed."

Caring and loves to cook, yeah, you sure were lucky.