#like it is so important to him to be the perfect gentleman and whatever he looked up to his army dad and would have joined the army

[perkeleen-lavellan]

In the interview for the illustrated guide to Twilight Stephanie Meyer, when asked about Alice, said something along the lines of, I wish there was a real person like that, a friend like that, because she was so wonderful there had to be someone like her, and I had to sit down (I was reading it don't @ me) and joke to myself "Well girl what you want is a lesbian bestie with a crush on your heterosexual self gl"

[remi-thirsts]

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓 !

pairing: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, and toji x fem!reader (separate) summary: when you catch them with a suggestive piece of clothing from your wardrobe... content: kinda suggestive, established relationships, toji has no shame at all, allusions to sexual themes, jerking off, pillow humping(?), roommates to lovers (for geto's) pet names, cursing. lmk if I missed anything. wc: 2.5k

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

The house was awfully quiet when you arrived home with your shopping bags in hand. "Satoru?" You call out setting all of your stuff down. Nothing. No over dramatic gasps, no 'babyyyyyy you're back!!!!!!" Absolutely nothing.

Satoru hadn't told you he was going anywhere, had he? Sometimes the man talks so much that you drown out his voice, so you can focus on whatever you need to get done. Which means you could have missed something.

Or maybe he's asleep? Only, Satoru doesn't nap if it isn't with you. So... where could he be?

Before going deeper into your home, you remove your shoes and place them neatly on the wobbly shoe rack he built. He insisted he could build anything, when he'd never even picked up a screwdriver in his life. That's kind of what happens when you belong to a wealthy family, but you didn't want to hurt his pride, so you let him build it.

You tread quietly toward your bedroom in hopes of finding him there. The door is cracked open suspiciously, with caution you slowly push the door open, "Satoru are you- uhhh what are you doing?"

The man in question tenses up when he hears your voice. As if you hadn't seen him he hides your lace panties behind his back.

"I was uh," He does that little coughing thing to make him look less suspicious, but if anything it makes him even more suspicious .

"You were 'uh' what?" Satoru thinks you look like a mother scolding a child the way you stand with your hands on your hips.

"I- I was hah- are you really gonna make me say it, baby?" He looks so red, cute.

"Yeah, go ahead and tell me what you were doing snooping through my underwear drawer." He sighs, but it's soon replaced with a sneaky smile.

"Ineedednewjerkmaterial." He says all jumbled up and quietly.

"Speak up, 'Toru." A whine leaves his lips. What a little baby he is.

"I needed something to help me when I think about you while jerking off." He spoke clearly this time, so you stop teasing him.

"Well you can't use those ones, 'cuz those are my favorites. Let me find you a different pair." He's in shock the whole time while watching you dig through the dresser.

"Really? You're just gonna give me a pair?"

"Why not? All you had to do was ask. I'm sure you'll buy me more anyway, knowing you." He snorts at that. It's true, Satoru likes to buy you anything and everything, sexy underwear is no exception.

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

You've noticed that some of your favorite bras have gone missing since you asked your roommate, Geto, to do your laundry when you get too busy. It was a little suspicious when he seemed more than happy to do your laundry, but who were you to think anything of it when he was making one less chore for you?

Sweet, little, and innocent you, didn't suspect that Geto could be the one stealing your bras, though. He's too much of a gentleman, you think. He always opens doors for you, lets you use the bathroom before he does, and when you aren't up to make something, he'll cook you dinner.

He's a picture perfect roommate so there's no way he could be the one. You'll still ask him his opinion on the matter though, because your bras are not cheap, and if they keep going missing you'll have to buy more.

It's Wednesday, which is the day Geto usually washes your laundry for you. There is a very important job interview you have to leave for in ten minutes so you rush to get your hamper to him.

"Suguru- I um I need your help with something." Geto cannot help but stare you down. You're dressed in a black blazer with a white dress shirt underneath, and a pencil skirt that should reach around to your knees, but because you had bend down earlier to pick something up, the skirt hiked up just a little bit.

"What's up, princess?" The first time he had called you 'princess' you just about had a meltdown. He told you not to think too much of it, it was just a nickname.

The smell of his lotion fills your nostrils and his hair is still wet from his shower. There's also no shirt covering his perfectly built body.

"Well.. uh. Some of my bras are going missing. Can you keep an eye out to make sure there's no pervert at the laundromat stealing my bras?" A chuckle almost leaves his throat. You are too cute for him, of course you wouldn't blame him for the disappearance of your bras.

"Of course, I'll keep watch." Since you are running short on time you give him a tight lipped smile and quickly make a run out of your apartment.

"Cute." Slips from his lips, although no one hears it.

-------

There's hope. The interview had seemed to go great, the woman interviewing you said she'd give you a call letting you know if you got the job or not.

To celebrate the potential job, you bought yourself a pint of ice cream on the way home.

When you unlocked the door you didn't even announce yourself, assuming he might have been out or napping.

Before going to your room, you grab a spoon from the kitchen in order to eat the deliciously sweet treat you bought for yourself.

Your room was at the end of the hallway so you would have to pass Geto's room to get to yours. As you walk past his room, you almost drop your spoon in shock when you hear your supposed goody two shoes roommate moan out your name.

A series of grunts and 'fucks' leave his lips after the sudden call of your name. Curiosity killed the cat, huh? Well you don't care enough to let that stop you. It's rude not to knock but when Geto's calling out your name like that you think you have plenty of reason to barge in.

"Suguru what are you-" You should have just went to your room. The sight you walked in on had you dropping your ice cream and spoon on the floor. Geto is not as innocent as you thought he was, not when he's got your favorite laced bra attached to his pillow while he fucks it like they're your tits.

You would think he'd have the decency to stop when you caught him, but you catching him only made him speed up, his hips snapping at an extraordinary pace.

"Fuck, princess. Didn't want you to find out like this. Shit- need your tits so bad." He cums with no shame over the part of the pillow that would be the crevice of your breasts.

You can't even be mad at him, it's hot, but you'll still give him a peace of your mind.

"Suguru! That's- that's my bra! And you- gosh you are so perverted!!!! I never would have thought-" It takes him a minute, but when he comes down from his high, he apologizes sincerely for taking your bras.

And now that you know he wants you just as much as you want him, you indulge in his fantasies of fucking your pretty tits.

♡ 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

He was going on a business trip for a few weeks and took a pair or two with him so he wouldn't have to bother you.

It doesn't even register that any are missing either, because he picks the pairs that you don't care too much about. They don't have to be sexy, Nanami loves anything you wear.

The only reason he does get caught is because he allows it to happen.

It's the second week, day two of his business trip and he decided to have a drink with his coworker, which he never does, but he misses you and a drink would help, even if only for a little while.

Nanami's toleration is high, so one drink turns into seven and he starts to feel the effects around the 8th one, which his coworker cuts him off after that.

"Dude, that's a lot, even for you." He says to Nanami, which he has to agree with, but his drunk mind doesn't want to.

"'s not nearly the 'mount I drink when 'm at home." His coworker chuckles and pays his tab along with Nanami's. (nanami will pay him back in the morning when he's in his right mind)

Said coworker drops him off at his hotel room and makes sure he gets in okay, he also reminds him to, "Call your wife, she might get worried if she doesn't hear from you."

He will. He'll call you as soon as this boner goes away... just thinking about you along with the alcohol in his body has him hard.

He stumbles through his suit case looking for the panties he'd packed in there. A smile graces his face when he finds them, they aren't cute, at all by any means.

He chose them not because they're sexy but because they're just normal, meaning you wear them a lot more often.

His steps are heavy as he about marches to the bed he's been sleeping in for the past two weeks. His conscious starts screaming at him not to jerk off with your panties but in the end, his dick wins.

-------

It's about 11:43 pm when you receive a face time call from your husband. He called you earlier, telling you about his day, so you find it a little unusual for him to be calling at this hour.

When you slide the accept button, you're met with your husband's dick and your panties covering his tip. For a second your eyes widen trying to register what exactly is going on, once you do, arousal pools in your gut.

"What's this honey?" He strokes his dick faster when he hears your voice.

"Keep talking, pretty." He's completely gone, you notice. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his eyes rolled back.

"I see you have my panties, what's that about?" A low groan leaves his throat but it's cut off by his words.

"Knew I would miss you. Packed them in my suitcase." The chances of him remembering any of this in the morning was low. Nanami usually has a hard time remembering anything from when he was drunk.

So, being the tease you are, you take a screenshot of him in this state.

"Fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum, please keep talking, Honey." You do as he wishes, saying random little things to help him reach his orgasm. It happens so fast and he's got you rubbing yourself through your shorts.

"You still with me baby?" You ask after he goes quiet for a few seconds. It doesn't take a genius to realize that he was knocked out.

You

[image attached] pervert ��� sent 11:58 pm

My love 💖

I'm not going to drink anymore on this trip. sent 7:39 am

You

You should, it's hot when I get phone calls from my needy husband 😝 sent 7:40 am

♡ 𝐂. 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

He can't hide it. In fact, he gets caught before he even makes it anywhere with them.

Last night was another night shift so you got home at the dawn hours of the night. A shower and a hot pocket later you were in bed. You made the assumption that Choso had gone out to see his brother, since you didn't see him anywhere in the apartment.

The sound of rustling around awakes you from your sleep.

"Cho? Is that you, baby?" It didn't sound concerned or anything, just a sleepy mumble.

"Oh uh- yes. Hi, good morning." His words are rushed like a kid who's trying not to get into trouble for something they did.

Your pretty eyes peek open to see Choso digging through your drawer for something.

"What are you looking for, babe?" He starts to stutter and try to come up with something you'll believe.

"You were picking out a shirt for me in my bra drawer?" His cheeks turn a bright red as he tries to explain himself.

"It's not what you think-! Okay it is what you think... but I haven't been seeing you much, since you always work late so I wanted to take one of your bras..." He's so cute. Gosh how could you not give him one.

"Okay, pick one out and I'll tell you if you can take it or not. You have to bring it back later though, it's not for you to keep.

He shakes his head furiously fast like a bobble head, and you can't help but laugh.

Choso is the most adorable thing to walk this earth.

♡ 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

He doesn't even try to hide it, AT ALL. Today was the day of your once a week girls night with your friends. It was usually just some karaoke and dinner and on the occasion; shopping.

Instead of the usual your girls had taken you partying at a club. It was fun to dance around with your friends and scream song lyrics while being slightly intoxicated. Luckily, you aren't the designated driver.

When you had clumsily slipped your shoes off in your drunken stupor you realized that it was quiet in the house.

Too quiet, even for your husband. Toji's definitely up to something, because he'd usually be waiting on the couch for you to return home, and he's not.

"Oh baby~" It's slurred tremendously but you still get it out. Silence returns your call, so you take it upon yourself to find him.

The first and most obvious place to look is the bedroom; you'll start there and keep going. The door was closed but you could still hear him. Upon contrary belief Toji is loud during sex. He probably couldn't shut up to save his life.

His loud groans and moans start to cut off meaning he must be close. Is he watching a video he's recorded of you? Potentially.

Most would probably leave their boyfriend alone to finish so he doesn't get embarrassed, but this Toji Fushiguro we are talking about; he does not care.

You slowly pull the door open only to find out that your husband is not in fact watching a video, but getting off to your panties around his dick.

"Tojiiii, without me?" It doesn't even click that he's using your underwear at the moment.

"Fuck- I thought you weren't gonna be back until-" You must have shocked the shit out of him, because he stops touching himself to check his phone.

"Oh. You're home on time." He throws his phone down onto the bed and sighs.

"Waita' minute," It finally registers that those are your panties he's jerking off too.

"Toji, why do you have my panties? Pervert." And to nobody's surprise, Toji gets off to that kind of stuff. He likes when you call him out.

"Hah- shit. Don't ask such stupid questions... are you gonna come over here and help me finish?" A little smirk covers your face as you walk over to the bed.

©𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐒 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

note: lmaoooo geto's got a little bit out of control

[orphicmeliora]

Thinking about harbouring the most atrocious crush on him.

He's the dearest friend you've had since forever and you don't remember when or how this thing started but it hits you like a ton of bricks in the middle of the night, sitting on the kitchen counter and him making whatever shitty blend of coffee he's thought of. He's never been good at that.

Your gorgeous, gorgeous man.

Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. You chant in your head but it's a fruitless endeavor. Your foolish heart always mistakes his one act of kindness, one sweet smile, his gentle assurances, and the way he focuses his undivided attention on you, for something more. For something like... Love.

He does that for everyone! You tell your heart, but the stupid thing never listens to reason does it?

He looks at you, curiosity apparent in his eyes probably wondering what the hell is going on in your head and you realize you haven't said anything in the long while you've been admiring staring at him. And so you open your mouth to say something, God, anything at all. But then—

He tilts his head, his hair swaying with the motion and falling perfectly into place like dominoes, the action so endearing you have to catch your breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and clutch the counter in a death grip lest you do something idiotic like rush into his arms and melt in his embrace.

Gods above, how you'd love to do just that.

"Are you alright?" He asks, so kind even though you're acting quite pathetic. You're acting as if it's been 9 long years apart instead of the 9 hours you hadn't seen him. His mother really raised him to be a gentleman, you think. And a heartbreaker, you add a beat later. You can only imagine how you look to him, like a deer caught in headlights, hair, a tangled mess and—oh God you're wearing your ugliest pyjamas! You just wanted to dig a hole and lie in it for eternity.

Still he looks at you so affectionately.

He moves forward, each step feels like a hammer against your heart as he moves closer to you. You gasp, wide-eyed you look around vehemently for something to stop him. You're not prepared for this. You know the proximity, his scent engulfing your senses would turn you into a bigger fool.

But you find nothing and now he's standing so close, towering over you even with the added height of the kitchen counter. He's so ridiculously tall. He's perfect. He's within reach and your hands tremble. Every bone in your body wanted to assimilate into his.

"Why won't you look at me?" He can't be this oblivious. Surely, he must have suspected something, it's not like you're being subtle.

You breathe deeply to calm down but even that comfort is stolen from you as his scent surrounds you and diffuses into your blood and messes with your brain. As if his presence alone wasn't enough.

"Have I done something wrong? Is that why you're avoiding me?" His fingers graze your chin and you have to bite back the indecent sound you almost let out. He lifts your head and you feel the self-restraint snap inside you.

"Yes!" You yell in his face. Desperate now, you wanted to hide far, far away from him. Being around him was too dangerous. He was too dangerous.

"Oh," His tone is so despondent, your heart wrenches at the thought of him being sad because of you. His hand falls from your face and you mourn the loss, the grief buried for the time being for other important emotions. "Please tell me what I did so I can fix it right away. I can't stand the thought of you being mad at me."

You wanted to cry.

Your chest feels tight and heavy and you can't breathe properly. All you know is that you have to get out of here and now. So you say the first thought in your head then turned swiftly and ran like they were rats hot on your trail.

"Stop being so attractive!"

You know your mind will never let you live it down but you think screaming into a pillow might help.

[vizjpmdose]

୨ৎ ──── jpm's entry in the 5 love languages. ────

⭑.ᐟ warnings : possessiveness, mention of murder

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ a/n: : first time posting stuffs like this and this is a long one! | these are his greenflag versions (this has been in my draft for an eternity) English is not my first language so I apologize if you spot any grammatical errors that I'm not aware of.

JPM x wife fem!reader.

PHYSICAL TOUCH

for him, physical touch is his way to remind ownership but also genuine devotion to his lover.

for example, if someone is trying to flirt with you he'd suddenly just appear behind you and suddenly pulling you close to him by grabbing your waist softly in front of that person.

"darling, who's he?" he spoke with a forced smile, glancing at you and the man while he gives your waist a soft squeeze as he shows ownership.

can be a PDA king

with showing devotion, physical touch is his way to remind you of how important you are to him

keeping a hand on the small of your back while walking around in the hotel

loves to trace your facial features/body

imagine having a talk with him while just relaxing in bed, he listens to whatever you're saying while he traces a part of your body (waist, arm, legs) or facial features (jawline, lips, cheekbone)

he could be doing it while making eye contact with you while you're speaking or his eyes could be at your body part/facial feature that he's tracing while you speak.

it gives you extreme butterflies specially that he's humming in response from time to time while busy tracing your body with his fingers.

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION:

this man has a very wide vocabulary, he's a master with his words.

he's the best in wooing using his words that he's sure of being very effective on you.

he actually doesn't excel in comforting with words:(

But worry not! He's good in encouraging you with words.

"you, my dear is the best. You don't have to stress about it just to prove it to me, because I knew ever since the day I saw you that you're going to be the perfect lady of the Cortez."

Very resourceful with his words, very witty.

you'd receive appreciation phrases that are very high standard coded

FLIRTS VERY GENTLEMANLY!

"Such a sight for sore eyes. Surely, my favorite sight for tonight." 

he loves the reaction he gets from you with when he flirts with you using fancy idioms. 

He actually could write poem/poetries and it would be all about you.

loves to brag about you, he brags about you to other people even though you're not around. He loves to publicly speak about you and your relationship with him.

QUALITY TIME:

this man is a sucker for attention. 

he prefers spending quality time with you by having a conversation during a fancy dinner or having a conversation while drinking or smoking together.

would literally host a dinner nightly if you'd agree.

Loves to play cards with you every night before going to sleep 

There's a lot of secrets in the Cortez that no one knows but him. If you're a curious one, he'd find joy to walk you around the Cortez, telling you facts about every area that you both visit. 

"This feels like a museum date, right darling?" 

In a conversation, he's always the talker but loves to be a listener when it comes to you so that he can spend more time with you while having a conversation.

He loves taking you to the grand empty ballroom of the Cortez for slow and elegant dances with him when you both are feeling elegantly romantic. He would put on a vintage jazz or classical music record.

If you're an adventurous type just like him, he'd be so so happy to go on a killing spree with you. He’d admire that about you, pushing you to be bolder, more daring, much like he did in his own life. Times like these would be his core memories with you.

ACT OF SERVICE:

This man is the number 1 real gentleman and that's for you only. 

Yes, let's say he uses his gentleman side to lure his victims in but that gentleman side is fake. He'd only be a real gentleman when it's for you. 

He opens doors for you and pulls out chairs for you 

He makes sure he attends your needs before you can even ask. 

He's highly observant/highly perceptive, he does everything you need or want before you even voice them.

"I will give perfection to such a perfect person like you, my love." What can I say? This man is such a simp.

When you have any problems, he'd do anything to help you with it or he'll be the one to fix it for you.

He's always mindful for your physical comfort, he'd always make sure that his staffs are giving you what you want and what you need if he's not around, and whatever that makes you feel pampered.

He gets mad at his staffs when you have any complains or when he observes that you're not feeling comfortable enough.

With protecting you from harm in the Cortez, He would use his power and influence to keep you safe from the dangers.

If one of the ghosts in the Cortez dares to disrespect you or interact with you in a way that you or he doesn't approve of.. James would swiftly and ruthlessly handle the situation.

GIFT GIVING:

No. 1 sugar daddy material

When you get upset and doesn't know how to comfort you, he'd shower you with expensive jewelries and stuffs that he knows that you like.

Everything he gifts you will be expensive, this man values good quality all of the time

He sends Liz to the outside world to buy these gifts he'll give to you.

"If I were just allowed to leave the hotel I wouldn't hesitate to go out alone to buy you these lavish things myself, a high quality man like me knows a lot about high quality things that deserves to be in my queen's grasp." 

Expect gifts on random days because anytime he'd think of an item that he thinks you would like, he'd action on getting it immediately.

He lives for your reactions, praises, and compliments when he surprises you with gifts. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jade Leech: J is for...

J word—

Twst devs: How can we fuck’m up real good

Intern-kun: J word bird’s eye view cleavage shot

xhjsvwiwkw Jokes aside! I love how much care he takes in maintaining his appearance, right down to ironing in the morning and purposefully styling the black strand into the “J” shape 😂 Whatever it takes to look like a gentleman, right… And he’s meticulous about his SPF just like me, frfr🧴💕

Rise and Shine!

Jade’s hands, you decided, were made for delicate efforts.

You had watched those hands a number of times, performing like skilled trapeze artists in a circus. Serving food and drink at the Mostro Lounge, rinsing the grime off of foraged mushrooms, drawing decisive graphite strokes upon a page. The terrariums sitting upon his shelf were the result of his handiwork—minuscule biomes, carefully constructed with a magnifying glass and tweezers.

Now he handled his hair with the same deadly precision. Fingers on the end of his singular black strand to keep it in place, he ran a hair straightener along the length. When the tool pulled away, the strand bounced back into a slight curl.

A perfect J to hug his handsome face. J for Jade, as he often said.

You had observed the times when a J hadn’t been the result. Too little, and the strand was an I. Too much, and the strand rebelled into a S.

“You’re so detail-oriented,” you commented from your place by the doorframe.

The response, a quiet, almost musical, chuckle. It seemed to echo off the cavernous walls of the Octavinelle washroom, bathed by sunlight-infused waters.

“It is important to maintain one’s appearance.”

“To make a good first impression?”

You knew why.

To lure his victims into a false sense of security. A neat suit, a disarming smile, and anyone would be willing to part with the treasures Jade fished for. Information, valuable information.

“That is part of it.” He didn’t look directly at you, but instead met your eyes in the reflection of his vanity mirror. “One can also glean a great amount of information from observing how another presents themselves. For example…

“You must have had a small baked good for breakfast on your way to Octavinelle this morning. A muffin, a croissant—something of that sort, yes.”

“H-How did you…?!”

His eyes trailed to your necktie, done up just the way you liked it. “… There are crumbs there.“

Your hands flew to your chest, hurriedly dusting yourself off. Jade’s small, pointed teeth showed from behind his mouth.

Amused.

“When I first came to land, I thought it strange that humans dressed differently depending on the occasion. You dress formally for strangers—work, interviews—but dress casually for your loved ones—friends, family. But I see now… It sends a message to the world about who you are and what your place in it in that moment in time is.

“Our school uniforms signify that we are students. Pajamas mean that someone is about ready to sleep or to prepare themselves for the day. A tidy appearance implies a tidy mind, and a slovenly appearance, a slovenly one.”

“Your mind scares me sometimes,” you joked. “I feel like it’s full of sharp things that could kill me”.

“Oya, is that because you are complimenting how sharp my attire is?” Jade pinched the lapels of his pajama top. “… Though I’m afraid this can hardly be called sharp.”

"You will be once you've changed." You glanced away, indicating that he should.

“Very well. Then, please excuse me."

There was the ruffle of satin coming off, the flap of fabric as it was folded and tucked away. More rustling as a new set of clothes fell over his body. The same old vest, blazer, and slacks.

"... You may look," he called softly.

You did.

And there he was, Jade Leech in his school uniform. It was perfectly tailored to fit him, dyed a simple and sleek black. His earring was in place as well, three diamond-shaped scales dangling from his left side.

A regular sight, yet it made your heart sigh all the same.

"Clothes really do make the man," you murmured, a finger at your lip.

"Fufufu. I will happily accept your praise." Jade drew himself beside you. His shadow stretched, a suit in of itself folding over you. An open hand, held out. "Shall we be on our way?"

"Yes, let’s.” You shyly slipped your hand into his, and it fit like a glove.

The black strand—coiled into a J—leapt with your shared first step.

Too little or too much. His words, running both hot and cold. But this felt…

You searched for a J word, like the shape of that stripe.

J for… Just right.

[whosjunglejim4322]

Home, at last - Tangerine

Warnings: mentions of BLOOD & ANGST And tooth rotting FLUFF because (canonically he is a loverboy TO ME and it is important to ME), mentions of murder, because well yeah...uhm anyways, Tan doesn't know you know but you know. You know?, Lemon is in deep shit (he just doesn't know it yet), domesticity bc once again (it is important to MEEEE)

He's the only one other than yourself that has a key. It doesn't frighten you when you hear the jingling in the doorknob, or the rough, slow scuff of boots against your creaking apartment floor. You've grown accustomed to the rhythm. Of his footsteps, of the heat of his body when he crawls into bed.

You don't ask questions.Tangerine has proven to be a friend, a provider, a committed lover. If and when he can. It's all you've ever asked of him. And all he's asked of you is to welcome him with warm, comforting arms when it's late and he needs a place to get proper rest that doesn't leave him waking up with a paranoia that he might get got. You know?

In the two years that you've had this arrangement, he's been a perfect gentleman. He never comes in your home bloodied or battered, save for the occasional bruising or stitch. Usually well beyond healed, or close to it. Never wakes you up intentionally. Makes sure to kiss you goodbye in the morning if he has to leave early.

From this, a routine has been born.

Keys clink behind your door, the knob being gripped with heavy hands and then turned before the door creaks open. A shuffle of sorts, his boots coming off with the roughness of his heel prying the other shoe off instead of just untying the laces.

You're roused from your sleep, limbs buzzing as you stretch your fatigued muscles. You sit up, tired eyes adjusting to the dark. You're hazy from sleep. You expect him to come in at any moment, to lazily push the door open and begin stripping his clothes that he then folds and places on the nightstand next to his assigned spot on the bed.

Why do you take your shoes off like that but fold your clothes when you take them off? Makes no sense.

He's heard it so many times that while the first syllable is rolling off of your tongue, he knows what you're going to say.

But the moment doesn't come. The silence is all you hear, and for a moment you wonder if you've been missing him so much that you've fully hallucinated his arrival. God.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing away the bleary feeling and the spots that cloud your vision from staring into the dark for too long. The covers are suddenly too heavy and your throat aches with the need for hydration.

It takes genuine effort to pull yourself out of bed still. You grab your phone from the nightstand on your side, 2:00 AM.

Your fuzzy slippers scuff against the floor as you walk towards the door, you've still never learned to pick your feet all the way up. The small hallway smells of the caramel wax melts you had burning in your kitchen just before you went to bed, and lingers as you round the corridor.

"Fuck!"

It's whispered to yourself in a moment of panic, not anticipating the hulking silhouette on your old sofa, splayed out with one leg perched on the back and the other dangling off of the side. Your hands are clutched to your collarbones, more specifically to your metaphorical pearls.

It's him, of course. No mistaking it. But he's not snoring obnoxiously, and his head lifts just enough for you to see messy curls bounce against his forehead in the pale light of the moon that streams from your balcony windows.

"You scared the shit out of me," you're still whispering. For whatever reason. "why are you in here? Come to bed."

As you get closer, the scent of dirt and the unmistakable twinge of blood clouds the caramel wax melts. That concerns you. The scent shouldn't be that strong. And Tang would never come here if he were that badly hurt. Wouldn't want to worry you. Right?

"M'sorry. Didn't know know where else to go."

Your heart sinks to the depths of your stomach. His voice sounds hoarse, forlorn. You're moving towards him within the blink of his blackened eyelids, throwing yourself on your knees and finally sobering to the reality of the scene before you.

"Oh my god, you're hurt."

He chuckles sorely, and the shaking of your hands intensifies.

"Just got the taste beat out of my mouth darlin', that's all. No open wounds."

You reach towards the coffee table to turn the quaint old lamp on. You love antiques, must be why you keep me around. He'd say.

"Oh, how relieving Tan, Fuck."

He wasn't lying. He's more battered than you've ever seen him, pale skin colored purple and blue with splotches of crimson across his face and knuckles and forearms and - if there's no open wounds this must not be his blood.

The look in your eyes causes his ribs to ache more than they already are, like he's being kicked with someone's fucking steel toes all over again. You're scared. And he's not sure if it's for him or because of him.

In his right mind, he wouldn't have let you see him like this. But he's never in his right mind when it comes to you. Not ever.

"I'm gonna get the first aid kit. I don't know what else to do. Obviously you should go to the hospital but no, why would you do that? That's what any sane person would do-" you rise from your kneeled position, rambling like a mad woman. You're distressed beyond belief, taking a sharp breath in of surprise when he grasps your wrist. It doesn't keep you from getting up like he thought, and you slip through his fingertips.

"I mean what the fuck is this? You're hurt. You're hurt bad." You're angry now, tripping on your way to the kitchen, loudly rummaging underneath the kitchen sink.

"I'm sorry love, ah shit, I really am-" he sits up, clutching his abdomen.

"I don't need you to be sorry," you're running back with the kit, unzipping the pack and throwing supplies on the table with as much grace as a circus clown. "I just need you to be okay."

Your trembling hands attempt to unscrew the antiseptic, but the sudden tears streaming from your eyes blur your vision. You wipe them away viciously with the back of your hand, over and over till your face stings.

"Hey, hey." He's firm in his tone.

Two calloused palms blanket the top of your knuckles. It's a silent reminder that he's here. He's whole. He's home. You look up at him and it genuinely takes your breath away. Like the bruises and scrapes aren't even there anymore. Like the smoke has been whisked away from your vision.

Crystalline irises, plush pink lips, a mustache that desperately needs to be trimmed. You're in awe, and the feeling never really goes away. You rise from your kneeled position, climbing beside him with the antiseptic and handful of cotton rounds clutched to your chest like a vice.

You calm yourself, examining his face. It feels obscene, forbidden to see him like this. It's like a sucker punch to the gut. You're a little bewildered at the fact that he's still one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen.

He rests his back against the couch, officially surrendering. You push his wild tufts of hair back, and as your nails scrape his scalp his head lulls with the movement. Your hands are a prophecy, and he is being fulfilled in earnest like this. Silence drowns the space between you two while your tears dry. It's welcoming. He drifts in and out of consciousness as you dab and wipe at his face.

You're taking care of him like he's the most precious thing that exists. It's an encapsulation of affection and tenderness, one he's never known in his life. Not from a mother, nor a lover for that matter. A couple years ago, the thought would make him sick. Letting anyone that close? That would be suicide. But with you it is wholeheartedly redemption. His eyelids flutter open and closed, open and closed, dark lashes kissing his cheekbones.

Ten, twenty, thirty cotton rounds. He's lost count, and the heap of them soaked in alcohol and blood on the floor is unguessable.

"Here. Take it."

"Hmm? Oh, thank you."

He throws back the four Tylenol and gulps down the glass of water, sighing in relief at the welcome of hydration and the erasure of copper in his mouth. He attempts to wipe the stray droplets from his mouth and chin, but your soft hands clap his thick wrists and place them in your lap. He keeps them there.

And before he can blink again, your warm lips touch his.

Over and over, gently, serenely.

Slowly you move from his cupids bow to the high arches of his now blemished cheeks, his forehead, between his relaxed brows. If a human body could melt from touch, he'd be a puddle of the goopiest, grossest most lovesick flesh known to man. Maybe the only one known to man. He hasn't checked the stats on spontaneous combustion as of late.

"If the other guy isn't dead already, I'll kill him myself."

Inhale once. Exhale once. Or is it inhale twice, exhale three times? He's forgotten how to breathe. Ringing fills his ears and only dissipates when the thundering of his heart becomes so loud that's the only thing he can hear.

"Sorry, come again?"

It doesn't even sound like him, and maybe under different circumstances you'd even chuckle and tease him about it. His voice breaks and everything.

Blue irises become obsidian in shock. Jaw slack as he stares at you. Your fingers begin undoing his dirty dress shirt, starting underneath the two that are already undone. You can already see the blossoms of blue and purple the more his skin is revealed, and your stomach turns uncomfortably.

"Throwing this in the whites basket." You say, as if he's even remotely concerned with why you're stripping him out of his clothing. He watches with a sort of wonder, a curiosity as to how this conversation is going to go. A fear twists deep in his gut, like a jagged blade. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows, and he realizes that he's scared.

This feeling he's struck with, is actual fear.

"Last year. That trip to Sydney you took with Lemon." You're down to the last few buttons, offering the beginnings of an explanation so he can stop staring at you like you've just killed his puppy.

"He sent the confirmation photo to the wrong person. Me. You were uh...behind the uhm...the guy. On the floor. Your lower half was behind him, anyways."

You pull the garment off of his broad shoulders, and luckily it's already untucked so it's easy to pull it off of his body with the way he's sitting. You toss it behind you, intending to worry about it at a later time. You're not sure if he's even breathing anymore. The rise and fall of his chest has lessened exponentially.

He's deathly still.

"Grandpa was in Special Forces. When I was a kid, my cousins and I would ask him how many people he'd killed. Of course we were too young to know how extremely fucking inappropriate it was to ask a veteran about the people he'd shot."

You smile at the memory, only because of the irony. This specific moment in time, under these circumstances. Your fingertips graze over the valleys of muscle, the ridges of tendon underneath his skin. It's hard not to get distracted.

"I don't think you're innocent. But I...I don't think the people you're killing are entirely innocent, either, you know? I mean, if you're an assassin, it's not your job to go after the good guys."

You finally look up to meet his eyes. You're not sure what you expected. A deer in headlights, a moth to a flame, a lamb in the lions den. Maybe all of them combined. A reverence washes over him like cool water, and the air between you two is as still as steady water.

"Are y'gonna leave me?"

It's the first thing he says. And it doesn't come from a conscious part of himself. If he were in any rational state of mind he'd be yelling, screaming, maybe not at you but at the mere thought of his brother fucking up that badly, not only risking his career but...but you? You. No no that's too much to bear. It doesn't even seem like it should exist in his realm of thoughts, or reality at all. It's excrutiating.

So yes, the first words out of his mouth are uttered with the voice of someone Tangerine hasn't been in a very long time. Someone who's vulnerable. Someone who actually has something to lose. Someone who can't fathom the thought of being abandoned, but more so, being without your presence in his life.

And just like the angel you are, you cup his face in your hands. Delicately, as if you're not holding a killer in your hands.

"No, silly. I think if I was going to do that I’d have done it already.” You push the sweat dampened curls from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. He looks so incredibly vulnerable. Somewhat innocent in the unintentional pout of his bottom lip.

The blood has finally returned to his face, to his limbs. It's like he's a tin man slowly being oiled in all the right places until he can move and function correctly, normally. A small part of him is still waiting for you to run away.

His world isn’t sweet. It isn’t soft. It isn’t kind or understanding. So this is all sort of perplexing for him, accepting that you’re here, still.

You stay right where you are, and his hands reach out feverishly to pull you closer, closer, closer. You're spreading your thighs and stretching your legs so that he can seat you on his lap - big, strong arms holding you like he's never received affection before. Or been able to give it at all, for that matter.

"You knew. All this time? Un'fuckin believable."

You lean in to kiss him once again, but he meets you halfway - consumed within the feeling of your love, your tenderness.

He stares up at you with stars in his eyes, breathless to the full extent.

He has never had a real home. But he's realized, on this thrifted sofa in a room that smells like you and caramels, that he's found it in his arms.

[ash-says]

Things to be aware of as a Hopeless Romantic:

We all have been there daydreaming about the perfect man, the perfect life, the perfect whatever,etc. Still life is not full of roses and thorns are inevitable.

So here are some aspects to look out for according to me so that you won't fall in the delulu is the only solulu trap.

Remember if you follow me, we don't do regrets here. We accept, take accountability and move on. We don't soak ourselves in problems. We solve them effectively.

1) Drop those rose-colored glasses. Crush them under your feet and now look at the world again. Learn to accept reality. It is what it is. Not what you make it out to be. Learn to become an observer of your life from time to time. It will give you the real picture.

2) Potential is useless if you are not leveraging it. It's a trap both for yourself and others. You see potential in him of changing and being a good guy?? Girl, he *IS* not a good guy. It's not your job to raise a man. It's embarrassing. Stop babysitting grown men.

3) Standards are important but ensure they are not rooted in fantasy. Let's be honest finding a man who is rich, dark, tall, sexy and talks in the way you read in your romance novels is difficult. I am not saying it's impossible but don't be too rigid. All I will say is make sure you are also on the level where if you come across such a man he should be ready to date you.

4) Men view sex differently than us women. I know many of you will get triggered after reading this but the majority of men really view women as sex dolls. Blame the porn industry maybe. Good men exist but not every other man who talks sweetly is good.

5) A person in your life treats you nicely. Always talk sweetly, tells you that you matter to them but their actions don't match it. Chances are you are being breadcrumbed. Plans being cancelled? Messages being unseen? But when confronted all you get is,"Sorry love, I was busy. I was going to do it. You matter a lot,etc etc." Breadcrumbing. Be smart it can happen even in friendships too. I understand people get busier with time and things do happen. Use your discernment to see who really is busy and who is faking to be busy.

6) That uncle was so kind to me. He talked to me sweetly and always tried to help me out. Now, that's really sweet of him. Next he calls you home to help out with the household chores and he is alone at home because his wife is out of town for some work. Would you go and help? Yes. Will you go alone? No. That's unsafe.

No matter how much a gentleman a man appears to be you are not allowed to be in a situation where he could potentially take advantage of you. You always bring along a friend or deny it. I know it's wrong to not help someone but at your own risk. No. Never. It's common knowledge in our society.

7) Dreaming of a Prince Charming to whisk you away from all your troubles??? Dream on. The idea that a soulmate or one person will magically solve all our issues is dumb. We as human beings add to each other's happiness rather than becoming the core of it.

8) One of the biggest mistakes I have seen girls around me make is of being fully invested in a relationship to the point one small fight makes them depressed. That's codependency. It's unhealthy.

9) Never make your relationship your identity. You should always have a separate identity out of it. Stop curating yourself for your partners. Morphing yourself according to their likes and dislikes. That's one way ticket to an identity crisis after breakup. Compromises are essential but changing your core self??? Crazy shit.

10) Your relationship should not be the reason for your downfall. It happens especially with my intense girlies we invest so much of ourselves in the relationship to the point it becomes our focal point and when it faces upheavals we are devastated. The mental distress starts flowing in other areas of your life and suddenly your grades are falling, your career seems unstable, etc. Develop the emotional strength to compartmentalize your emotions and not allow them to overflow in other areas and affect them.

Imagination is fertile but being delusional is being stuck in a swamp.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[showf4lls]

ɞ ― make a home in you; chuckle sandwich

cw + info! fluff, headcanons / no CWs

includes! ted nivison + charlie slimecicle + jschlatt

dedication! @ivyinnit

notes! i’m currently trying to get over a breakup and am kind of struggling w yearning atmo so this request (while old) was kind of perfect thank you for dropping into my askbox, ivy!! little update: it’s been so long since i’ve received this request, i know. it should’ve been easy to get it out quickly, but school absolutely melted me this semester. i know that ivy’s deactivated now, but in the case that she comes across it, i hope you enjoy beloved <3

TED

⎼ y’all schedule out laundry days together. it’s cute as fuck okok

⎼ forehead and cheek kisses while you’re on your way out the door

⎼ if he wakes up before you, he makes your morning drink of choice just the way you like it! though, he prefers to sleep in with you

⎼ if you don’t have any important plans for the day and you’ve set alarms just for the sake of waking up at a certain time, he turns them all off before you wake up. he wants to give you an opportunity to rest as much as you need to; your body will wake up when it’s ready

⎼ brunch dates! while you guys prefer to sleep in together, you alternate between sleeping in and waking up at a reasonable hour depending on your plans. ted really likes taking you out to brunch and just walking around window shopping with you after

⎼ if either of you are going somewhere important, the other will help them get ready and run through a mental checklist with them before they go in order to make sure the person leaving has absolutely everything they need

⎼ y’all are constantly doing bits. it’s kind of confusing for your friends, but neither of you care much because you’re just having a great time

⎼ ted is an absolute gentleman always, not just in the honeymoon phase. constantly opening doors for you, helping you put your sweater on when you’re leaving the house, opening the car door for you. stuff like that

⎼ he rubber ducks for you a lot. just sits down near you and listens, letting you work out your issues by talking it out without feeling awkward about it

⎼ he’s just overall a great listener and very in-tune with your needs. only gives advice and input when you ask for it, but he always makes an effort to validate your feelings. holds you when you need him to and steps back when he senses that you need space. also really good at problem solving and helping out when you get overwhelmed or have sensory overload

– when you have bad days, he has a tendency to go above and beyond. he cooks dinner for you, makes sure your comfy clothes are all washed and clean, and generally just makes sure you have to do as little as possible so that you have the proper space to calm down

CHARLIE

– you guys have rapid fire joke contests together, usually late at night when you’re sitting on kitchen counters, snacking. you go back and forth until either the two of you are laughing so hard that it would be physically impossible to keep going, or someone can’t come up with a joke fast enough

– you try to stay on the sleep cycle but you both tend to get a little out of whack every once in a while, so you have these phases of going to sleep at a decent hour and then going to sleep when the sun is about to come up

– as such, you guys have these phases of making spontaneous runs to the grocery store or gas station to get snacks, usually cereal for some reason. you get whatever you want and charlie never lets you pay for any of it. on the later nights, you guys sometimes experiment with new flavors of things or weird snack combinations

– he has a thing about always making sure you’re warm enough. you’re a little chilly? he’s pulling his sweater off and pulling it over your head. once you’re all comfy and settled, he’s on his way to turn on the heater. your feet are cold? he’s running to get you a pair of fuzzy socks and a blanket in case your legs are cold too. even when you’re about to leave the house -- it’s colder than 50 outside? he’s scrambling around the house, gathering gloves and scarves and beanies for you to take with you in case you get cold, even if they don’t match. no other options but you’re still cold? mans is wrapping himself around you, trying to use his body heat to warm you up himself. he hates when you’re chilly and uncomfortable :[

– brings you home little presents all the time. literally anything that remind him of you. you have a collection of buttons and keychains that he’s seen while walking through shops. he also steals cool props from videos and projects to give to you. you have a little collection going

– loves pda all the time, but not always cuddling (which can sound confusing, but let me explain). he likes casual pda with you around the house, whether it be you resting your feet in his lap while you both lounge across the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning back on his legs while you watch a movie, him putting a hand on the small of your back while he moves around/behind you, holding onto your hand until you’ve walked out of reach, gently pressing his knuckles into your back while you’re laying on the other side of the bed and facing away from him. likes to be touching you when he can be but in little ways that aren’t super overwhelming (mostly because i feel like you’d both be too fidgety to just cuddle)

– some of your most domestic moments are spent in the kitchen, usually cooking dinner together. it’s light and warm and it feels so much like home that you sometimes find yourself questioning if it’s all real. he’s right there to tell you it is. but back to dinner. he loves cooking for you, and you love cooking for him. it’s all laughter and winding down from work days and gentle hugs and swaying together as he hums for you

SCHLATT

– it’s a little hard to find domestic moments with schlatt off the top of your head, but they’re there when you look for them. they’re quiet, but they’re ever present

– he sleeps a lot, meaning that you usually wake up before him. if he’s sleeping light enough to hear you get up, he’ll roll over, half asleep, wrap his arms around your middle, and pull you back into his chest, mumbling a groggy “ten more minutes, babe. i’ll be up then, jus’ ten more minutes.” it’s never just ten more minutes

– he picks you up and carries you around a lot. not in the typical way. if he thinks you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll grab you from your desk and throw you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch and forcing you to watch a movie with him. or you’ll be sleepily making yourself a snack in the kitchen and he’ll grab you from behind, just wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up. he carries you, complaining and squirming, the whole way to your room and tells you it’s nap time

– you guys have a lot of nap dates. it’s an easy, sweet block of time for you guys to spend together, hazy and together while napping on and off. if one of you wakes up, you get to fondly watch the other nap until you fall asleep again. watch the easy rise and fall of their chest, run a hand through their hair, trace gentle patterns on their skin, play with their fingers, listen to the beating of your heart

– you do the dishes together. you wash and schlatt dries. sometimes you get into towel fights or start flicking water at each other with your fingers

– schlatt follows you out of bed when you get up in the middle of the night. he’d never admit it, but he has a hard time sleeping without you. he hates waking up to a cold bed. so when the clock blinks 3:17 and he feels around to find nothing beside him, even if your side of the bed is still warm, he huffs and gets up. pads through the house with puffy, tired eyes until he finds you. wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “what are you doin’ outta bed?” he never waits for your response, just starts ushering you back to your room

– really likes seeing you in his clothes, again, not that he would ever admit it. he’ll purposely “forget” to do your laundry so that you have to start wearing his hoodies, tee shirts, sweats, etc. it just gives him the warm fuzzies, seeing you be so comfortable and cozy in his clothes

– hangs on you a lot on days when there’s nothing to do. he’s pretty idle about it, too, kind of like a character accessory. sometimes you just have to go around the house doing your stuff with this big man hanging off of you because you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave you alone for an hour or two to get your work done

[ronearoundblindly]

No pressure at all! But I had an idea for your ‘how would the Cevans characters react’ I’ve loved every installment of this so far 🥰🖤🥰

How would they react if reader was having an off day and for some reason couldn’t get off so she faked having an orgasm in bed.

Is this because of @cevansbrat0007's Ari fic? (which is great, go read that, but I feel like I've seen a surge in this trope since) Because, see, this is very interesting to me, and I really hope you've read other stuff of mine before, nonnie. I don't write everybody as a perfect gentleman...

Warnings for various levels of spice since we are, in fact, talking about orgasms, duh! MINORS DNI. See my Light Masterlist for all-age friendly fics!

James Mace

Ok, I'm not sure it would get so far as for you to actually fake it. Mace is a slow, steady, deep kind of lover. He'd realize you aren't getting anywhere or building up to it pretty quickly, all things considered, and he would make you talk to him while he continues foreplay/touching you. Pretty sure he just wants to be attached to you in some way while you have time together...

Curtis Everett

Curtis gets very intense when he senses you're holding something back, like predatorily intense. Uses his body to cage you in, constant eye contact, probably even pinching/tickling you until you confess.

He doubles down. You fake one; Curtis forces two out of you in return.

Jimmy Dobyne

Shockingly, Jimmy would be super upset if you faked an orgasm with him. (There is one caveat to this: IF HE FINDS OUT.) Jimmy is a straight-forward guy who doesn't enjoy dating games. You aren't into sex right now? Fucking say something. He's horrified by the idea you would just lay there and take it or whatever because what the fuck???

He's got simple rules. If you don't like something, tell him because he can handle himself for one night/a little while or he'll happily do something different. If you never want something he does, then you two shouldn't be together. That's it.

Sex is an important aspect of your relationship, but it ain't the whole thing. Tell him to piss off, or ask for a quiet night of holding each other. Do not lie, cheat, or steal. You lied about being satisfied, you cheated him out of the chance to actually give you what you needed, and you stole his confidence that he recognizes your body's signals. Yes, Jimmy sorta makes it about him, but that's mostly because he feels helpless and a little dirty.

Johnny Storm

Existential CRISIS.

Have you ever faked it with him before? Have other women faked it with him?? Is this a common thing??? Hot shot goes into full-meltdown mode, and unsurprisingly, you end up kinda lost in the narrative there, soothing him instead of yourself.

Oddly enough, you two do end up closer from the experience though because Johnny realizes that he very much values trust and honesty, whereas before he would have thought plain ol' fun the most important thing...

Jake Jensen

Jakey, my beloved, clueless noob... He doesn't really know what to do. He asks a lot of questions. What's wrong? What can he do? What do you want in this moment? Should he have done it differently? Do you need more? Something else? Was it him?

For a dozen times after, he'll ask if that one was real or fake. He's touchy about it, but 90% of his concern is just that you are actually happy. He puts in quite a bit of extra effort for a while after, too.

Lloyd Hansen

I am a broken record when it comes to Lloyd: he does not care. At best, he'd be torturing you to come for his own pleasure. At worst, well, he's there to get off. You don't need to.

If by some magical scenario Lloyd does give a fuck about you or your feelings, I think he'd expect you to take what you needed from him to climax. Otherwise, it's not really his problem.

Ari Levinson

Depends on his own mood for sure. When Ari is stressed or tired, he tends to turn inward and focus on his own feelings, not purposefully ignoring you but still. It reads like he didn't/doesn't notice and just continues on with sleep/the normal routine. If he's got the emotional, energy bandwidth to talk it out with you, he absolutely will. Don't take any offense. Sometimes he's muddling through like you.

Ransom Drysdale

Has no idea. Probably doesn't want to have an idea. Unless it becomes a regular problem, he's just gonna let it slide. He won't bring it up if you don't.

Steve Rogers

On the surface, Steve looks concerned and listens to your reasons for faking, but honestly, on the inside, he hates the idea that you felt the need to. Steve will easily forego sex in favor of literally anything you want to do, so to let it get all the way to love-making and apparently suffering through till he's finished? It makes him a bit sick. He'll get more more restrained and cautious in future, all for want of you never faking again.

Bucky Barnes

Feels like a huge failure as a partner. Spends a good portion of the conversation having you promise to communicate with him better from now on. This is from a man who has so many things going on in his mind that Bucky is often derailed from pleasure/enjoyment during sex. He's just very triggered by the darndest things, and you've been so understanding. Why can't he be that for you, too?

Thank you for asking!

A/N: I know these are a bit short. Let me know if there's one or more you'd like expanded on, but thank you for reading!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would...' Asks; Ko-Fi]

[marchsfreakshow]

Marionette [Kai Anderson]

Angst. Because Kai.

Oh how you were swayed. Swayed by the devil himself, only to become a small puppet. A shell and marionette. His pretty one, to create.

Your typical Kai Anderson being Kai Anderson fic. Please enjoy it anyway. This song has me in chokehold

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

You naïve, sweet angel.

He was so much more than you thought. So, so much more. The TV reports only showed you that small part of his personality. His face, his hair, the way he spoke. Everything about it shown so perfectly on the screen in front of you.

You were only so alike to the blue haired man across the street. Shared values and the same wants for the world. But the only thing he knew you shared with him, was eye contact through your window. The look you gave him when he left his place every morning. Thinking about a far away fantasy.

A far away fantasy of being that pretty face by his side. Helping him with whatever he wanted to do, by just standing there admiring him. But he never returned your stares. Not even one glance up around your apartment. You presumed it was his confidence. The way he walked away, never looking anywhere but in front of him, oh how you could've looked so innocent and sweet walking next to him. Clinging by his side, and...oh.

Oh, he was looking at you. A raised eyebrow with almost a look asking you to go over there. Heart beat rapidly increasing as you almost slipped away from the window. Appearing out the front door a few minutes later. Kai crossed the road as you closed the door behind you. "Good morning." He started as you looked slightly bewildered at the man, realising the tiny crush you had on him.

An eyebrow raised as you stared at him. The silence was starting to get awkward. "Oh, good morning. Sorry about that." A small and quick laugh escaped him as he heard your untimely response.

Your mornings changed suddenly. Walking towards the same coffee shop until he changed his route in a random direction. But you'd occasionally serve him a small coffee when he came into your workplace. Almost to just look at you. Just to, observe your work. That smile you gave to the walking out customers. Why was that smile the exact same as the one you gave to Kai in the morning? Did you stop caring for him? Or were you another common whore on the streets, waltzing around like it was no one's business? Such thoughts ran through him as he sat in that usual corner of his, staring you down. It sent subconscious chills down your spine, but you feared if you looked over, it would all come crashing down.

Kai asked your co-workers. He asked the other regulars in the coffee shop. He asked your neighbours. Anything and everything he could find out about you, he would. Still keeping his attention on you to be little hellos in the streets in the mornings. Barely conversation from you, but it made you feel important. Like the most important person in his life despite barely speaking to him. Your delusion only fed his desire to shell you. To create a perfect person that could be by his side for his campaigns.

The time that passed made desires for eachother grow. You watched him continue upping his work. You were gonna do it. You were gonna ask him on a date. Just what Kai wanted. Seeing you in the morning on that one day. That pretty little outfit of yours. What a wonderful outfit to wear around the house for him. "Are you free on Friday evening?" Oh, that certainly wasn't what you were expecting from him. But a smile immediately laid itself on your face. Just what you had dreamed of.

"I'm free! What time?" Your conversation with him that morning was what he had planned. Such a gentleman, a sweet man. Planning all the details of a beautiful evening. What a dream. The best dream. Weren't you just perfect?

Beauty. Poise. Wonder.

You were just those three things wrapped up neatly in a human bow. The three things Kai desperately wanted you to keep despite his ignoring. Despite his annoyance at your existence. Doing his every ask, no matter how bad. No matter how painful.

Beauty. Poise.

That sweet wonder of yours. Stripped away. A loss of innocence to the man's true desires. The two things Kai desperately wanted you to keep despite his yells. Despite his rules and punishment. Keeping yourself at your side, no longer naïve to his real wants.

Beauty.

When you weren't seen in public with him, you were just a pretty face. You had nothing left. Only letting the people in town see a natural beauty. Those delusions? Reduced to a hateful reality. The reality you had to face.

Left to waste away. There was nothing left to strip you of. But lord, you still loved him. You still adored that blue haired man who climbed up steps of poison to get his real desire. Dazed, empty eyes just staring up at him and his, raggedness. His loveless kisses. His loveless touches. His quiet, reserved moans as you let him fuck his anger away. Harshly pushing it into you, for a reaction. Anything. Anything, please. He needed a reaction from you. Even a little smile would do. Even a touch back would bring the pathetic man to ecstasy. Such a sweet angel. Those darling smiles of yours through your window in the morning. A cute little good morning as you met for your morning walk. Talks of his next campaign. There was nothing left. Someone else in front of him. A whole new person on their knees, staring up at him.

"TALK TO ME!"

...Had he gone too far with you?

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @nahoyasboyfriend / @oceanblvd111 @slutforgarlogan @briaroftheroses / @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @yandereunsolved @evanpeterspeter

[mosneakers]

Granite Falls, 6 Months After Election Night

Alex Hart, Lead Documentarian: You’ve just been through so much these past few months. Your strength… it’s really moving. Sorry—I’m getting a bit emotional here, as you can probably tell, heh.

Coraleye: [giggles softly, attempting to lighten the mood] I bet it’s just the charm of the great outdoors! Camping has a way of casting a spell on you, doesn’t it? Makes all your senses feel so heightened!

Cameron Rai, Camera Technician: [Squinting against the sun] Great segue— now can we keep it pushing before the sunset wrecks our lighting?

Alex: Right. While we're on the subject, could you please explain how we managed to interview Erwin for this film, given the horrific incident that happened six months ago? Coraleye: Oh, since you asked like such a perfect gentleman, I can do you one better—how 'bout I show you instead?

Coraleye smiles gently at Erwin and begins her spell. "Goodbye for now, buddy.” she whispers, brushing away an emerging tear from her eye before it has the chance to fall. “Until next time.” In a whirlwind of sparkles and light, Erwin's image fades away right before their eyes.

Alex: [Shakes head in bewilderment] Incredible. So that wasn't the real Erwin, right?

Coraleye: [Chuckles] Nope, not really! I’ve put my own little twist on a classic untamed magic spell —Duplicato.

Alex: I'm only clarifying because in the time I've gotten to know you, you've mentioned that you're an experienced medium, as well. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we weren't speaking to Erwin's spirit or anything, right?

Coraleye: No... we did attempt a séance once and sadly, it seems he may have died too far away for any of us to be able to connect to his spirit. [Face reddening, eyes beginning to well with tears] Although I'd like to think I captured the essence of his spirit pretty accurately. But this spell is essentially just a magical hologram created from my memories of him.

Alex: We really appreciate you sharing him with us today, it's truly such an honor. Just to reiterate for our viewers, are you still completely comfortable with this? Your comfort is very important to us. I can imagine this must be extremely challenging for you.

Coraleye's shoulders slumped, and a frown clouded her expression, as she battled the urge to cry. The thought of Tycho watching this documentary strengthened her resolve—she refused to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her cry again.

Coraleye: No worries, I promise. I think it'll be good for the movie. I want people to see Erwin the way we did. Sure, it can be emotionally taxing, but I don’t do this spell often—and when I do, I actually find it to be so healing. [Smiles after long pause] — But yeah, anyway, thanks for the support, Alex... you've been really great.

Alex: [Softly] You’re really something else, Coraleye. I can’t imagine how hard this must be, but you’re handling it with so much grace. You know, it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling. If you need a moment… [Opens his arms slightly]

Coraleye laughs and accepts his subtle invitation for an embrace, easing herself into Alex's arms. Not expecting that familiar flutter that she's been dodging for months now to come creeping its way back into the pit of her stomach, she buries it deep down for now. But Coraleye knows she's a Darling, and when it comes to love, that's one curse that never stays dead.

Cam: Yeah, cool, I think we got the shot now.

[prettylittlels]

I Can See You

summary: You meet Rachel's costar at the academy gala, what will happen next? (tom blyth x actress!reader)

inspired by I Can See You (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

💋⚘️❤️‍🔥💥🍬💄

As an actress, I spend a 70% of my time meeting and interacting with actors, actresses, singers, directors, producers, and people who work in the same industry as i do. A 90% of those people are just passers, travelers that only visited my life. Only very few manage to stay, important enough to make me care for and about them: true friends. Like Rachel Zegler, for example. I met her at the 2022 Golden Globes afterparty, and we kicked off a nice friendship. And a rather weird one, might i add. Rach and I enjoy playing rather exquisite games: i make her try the most horrendous food i find, and she tries to find the perfect man for me.

-Rach, I already told you- i tell her, laughing without even trying - I've lost hope! You gotta accept that i don't have a love life!-

-You're lying to yourself! - she smiles with me- You think I haven't seen the way you look at every couple we meet?-

Maybe she was right. I haven't had a boyfriend in years, maybe I am a little touch-starved. But that was until I met him.

You brush past me in the hallway

And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya?

I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

As an actress, i spend a lot of time bring invited to galas and events. Tonights entertainment was the Academy's annual gala. I picked out a gorgeous black sparkly dress that caught everyones attention, as I imagined. Getting out lf the car, I slowly made my way to the red carpet, starting to pose for the flashing cameras. Shouts and screams came from everywhere i went. Not only for me, of course; in fact, thay were yelling Rachel's name too when i arrived. She came up to me and gave me a big hug, as we started to take pictures together. I also noticed that a certain co-star of hers, was looking our way. Don't you think I can't see you?

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?

What would you do if they never found us out?

What would you do if we never made a sound?

As an famous actress, I can't just do whatever I want and say whatever i please. The cameras are everywhere. But God, did I want to go talk to you.

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

And what would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you

As an actress, people expect me to be there when they need me, available for everyone and waiting for directions. But, only this time, I was waiting for something else to happen. When I walked down the hidden hallway on my way to the women's bathroom, you were there. I didn't want to do anything reckless! But here we are.

And we kept everything professional

But something's changed, it's somethin' I, I like

They keep watchful eyes on us

So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet

You won't believe half the things I see inside my head

Wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened yet

Tom and I started dating shortly after the gala. Being with him was everything I needed: he's a gentleman, a caring person, a funny one, and of course, a very sexy one. The weeks passed and we were both as happy as ever. After the night we met, the cameras that caught our longing stares published the photos and the public strted going crazy, speculating and giving their opinion about our encounter. Oh, they have no idea.

That I could see you throw your jacket on the floor

I could see you make me want you even more

What would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you

They had no idea that how it was being In a relationship with tom. The envious fangirls wished they were me. They don't I know that I can see him for what he truly is. They don't know that I can see him discarding his clothes on the floor. Yes, even that leather jacket of his that I love so much

I could see you in your suit and your necktie

Passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight"

Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah

And I could see you being my addiction

You can see me as a secret mission

Hide away and I will start behaving myself

I remember how I pulled you closer by your tie, and unbuttoned your shirt. How you admitted you've been watching me for ages. How we agreed to keep this a sceret, However, I knew he'd be like a drug. And I get drunk on it whenever he's around

I can see you.

I can see you, Tom.

[shadowtriovibes]

take my hand

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, references to consensual sex between minors, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex

Summary: Ominis lets you know he’s ready to go all the way with you, and you quickly realize he likes being told what to do (a.k.a. my “sub-inis” response fic to #dominis)

"That should work, right?" you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. "I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?" "Yes," he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass. He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste. You have absolutely no problem with that.

Ominis Gaunt is simply going to drive you mad.

For several happy, lovely months you've called the young man your classmates jokingly referred to as “Slytherin’s most eligible bachelor” your love. You’ve kissed his plush lips, memorized the sharp lines of his cheekbones with the tips of your fingers, and even draped your legs across his lap while you curled up together in a secluded corner of the Slytherin common room to study.

…Actually study, of course. Because, unfortunately, he’s kind of a tease.

In fact, the real reason he’d garnered his cheeky nickname? Not one of the girls in your year had gotten anywhere near Ominis’ bed, which, by your seventh year at Hogwarts, was admittedly uncommon.

Even when you started bringing him to the Room of Requirement for some additional privacy, hoping to tempt him into some of those intimacies you know he’s never experienced with anyone else, he’s been a perfect gentleman.

Sure, by now you’ve spent many wonderful nights tangled in the sheets with him, kissing him breathless and letting your hands roam as far as you can get away with. But Ominis wants to “take things slowly,” and you respect that.

(You’re slowly going feral over it, but you respect it.)

He takes you completely by surprise one evening when he tells you that he’s finally ready to go further with you. However, when you sit on the edge of your bed with him and ask him to clarify what that means, he balks.

“Whatever you’d like to do,” he insists, noncommittal. “I’m ready.”

“Ominis,” you say gently. “I do think we should talk about this, so we can both be comfortable.”

He bristles. “‘Both?’ You mean me.”

You bite your lip. It’s true that you are significantly more experienced than Ominis, though it’s not something you’ve talked about in great detail with him. You know that you’re his first everything, that he’d abstained from any sort of physical relationship with anyone thus far because he genuinely wanted to be in love with his partner.

You, however, had pretty much done the opposite after the residual trauma of your fifth year left you with a mindset of “you only live once.” You became more and more selective after you eventually realized that, while occasionally fun, meaningless sex didn’t make you feel better about what had happened. The only thing that did was talking about it with Ominis, which is one of several reasons you fell hopelessly in love with him.

“I mean us both,” you insist. “Just because I’ve had sex before doesn’t mean I want to rush into anything either. This is important. You are important, love.”

He softens a bit when you lace your fingers with his, tugging his hand into your lap.

“I just… I don’t know how to talk about this,” he forces out. “And not because I’m posh or repressed or anything like that, but simply because I fear I don’t know what I need to know.”

“What you need to know?” you ask curiously.

“Truthfully, most of what I’ve ever heard about sex is from the other seventh-years,” Ominis admits. “It’s not like I could have those kinds of conversations with my parents, what with the way they are. I suppose if there’s anyone I could have asked, it would be Sebastian.”

You wince a little and Ominis laughs softly, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Don’t worry, I’m not intimidated by the two of you,” he murmurs.

You and Sebastian had been “friends with benefits” (as he’d delightedly called it) toward the end of your sixth year, and thank Merlin you’d been able to maintain your friendship after it had ended.

You wouldn’t dare assume just how much Ominis knows about that fiasco, but the real reason it ended was that the two of you were simply too alike in bed – both far too dominant. Every time you came together, it felt like a duel, which was quite fun at first but quickly became exhausting and left neither of you truly satisfied.

“Well, I suppose you could talk with Sebastian,” you agree. “He’s not, er – he’s knowledgeable enough.”

This time Ominis winces, and you pat his hand apologetically.

“You could also just ask me, you know,” you tell him. “We can talk about these things. What we like, what we don’t like, what we want to do together.”

Ominis shifts closer and presses his shoulder against yours, resting his head against the top of yours. “I know. I suppose it’s just… challenging to feel so ignorant.”

“Love,” you sigh. “You aren’t.”

“I am,” he insists ruefully. “But we can… try new things together, right?”

“Of course,” you tell him, dropping his hand so you can stand between his legs and cradle his chin in your hands to pull him in for a kiss. “As long as you’re sure you’re ready.”

“Very ready,” he murmurs, resting his hands on your waist and dragging them down to your hips, more adventurous than he usually allows himself to be.

“Besides, it’s not as if you know nothing,” you tease him. “I’m sure you know how to make yourself feel good, right?”

Ominis goes red and doesn’t offer an answer, but you don’t need one to know that you’re correct.

“I can show you how I make myself feel good.”

It only falls a little flat when Ominis pointedly asks, “‘Show’ me how?”

It’s only then that you realize Ominis had a fair reason to be nervous. He probably has much less familiarity with the female body than many of his Hogwarts classmates would have had, from studying nude forms in classical Muggle art to the risque illustrations and photographs his male counterparts pour over in secret.

He would have been excluded.

“Right, er…” you mumble, thinking on your feet. “Maybe I could… tell you what I like, and you could do it for me?”

“Do it for you?” he asks, and you blink surprisedly when you realize he doesn’t sound annoyed at all with being tasked with your pleasure.

Honestly, he sounds quite interested.

“That should work, right?” you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. “I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass.

He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste.

You have absolutely no problem with that.

For a while you let him kiss you while his hands roam, letting him refamiliarize himself with the figure he already knows quite well beneath your uniform. Then, while his hands slip underneath your skirt to explore your bare thighs, you strip off your tie, dress shirt and brassiere. He undoubtedly hears the rustling of your clothes as you remove them, but he keeps his hands where they are until you reach down and grab his wrists.

Ominis exhales softly when you press his hands to your breasts, and you hum happily when his fingers flex against your skin.

“Touch me,” you tell him softly. “Not my clothes.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly. “You feel… you’re so soft.”

You giggle and arch your back into his hands, and when he drags his thumbs across your nipples, you lean down and press your forehead to his.

“Not too soft,” you counter.

“Can I… may I use my mouth on you?” Ominis asks hesitantly.

Merlin.

You’ve observed that your love certainly has an oral fixation. You suppose it could have to do with his blindness, but it could simply be a part of him like anything else. Ominis has been known to suck on quills for hours while he studies – the sugar quills from Honeydukes and, regrettably, regular ones as well – which has occasionally been distracting to some of your classmates who are driven to less-than-pure thoughts while watching him redden his mouth.

“Yes, use your mouth,” you breathe, tipping your head back when he brings his lips to your skin.

He doesn’t just immediately suck at you like some of your past partners have done in a rush. He kisses you all over – the curves of your breasts, across your collarbones, down to your navel and back up again. He’s learning you, and it’s making your head spin.

“Let’s move on,” you slur after a while, nearly dizzy from how good you feel with your skirt still on.

“May I?” Ominis asks, reaching behind you for the clasp of your skirt.

You assent and he deftly unclasps it, letting your skirt drop to the floor and leaving you in just your undergarments. But before he can tug them down – and he does try – you pause him by grabbing his wrists once more.

“I am nearly naked, and you’re fully dressed,” you remind him. “Seems unfair, love.”

“Fine,” he says with a bright laugh, leaning back onto his elbows to let you tug his tie loose and pull it over his head. You unbutton his shirt deliberately slowly, treating yourself to each new inch of bare skin you reveal as you work your way down.

When you reach the bottom, you can tell he’s quite ready for you by the state of his trousers, and you deduce those need to go as well. His breath hitches when you unbutton and unzip them for him, coaxing him into lifting his hips for you to tug them down.

After that, you both hurriedly tug off your undergarments and toss them… somewhere, to be sure.

He looks like sin sitting before you, completely nude with his long cock hard in his lap.

“Are you going to show me now?” he asks hopefully, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides.

“Mmm, soon,” you murmur. “I think I want you to show me something first.”

“You – you want to see…?” Ominis asks, his eyebrows raised. “But you know what men like, how we…”

“I know how men get themselves off, yes,” you say, finishing the sentence he lets die on his tongue. “I don’t care about what men like. I want to see what you like.”

“I can’t imagine I’m that unique,” he retorts.

“Then show me because I want to watch,” you challenge, gently pushing on his shoulders so he’ll scoot back and let you straddle his thighs. “I’m asking so nicely, Ominis.”

He exhales shakily and rests his hands on your bare hips. “Well, I usually… I usually have something to – Merlin, I have a salve, so it’s not dry.”

“Let me take care of it,” you purr, lifting one of his hands to your mouth and licking across his palm. He nearly chokes, but he lets you wet his hand for him and wrap it around his cock.

“Touch yourself,” you murmur. “Tell me what you think about when you get yourself off.”

“You,” he says quickly. “It’s always you, kissing you, touching you.”

You watch hungrily as he starts to stroke himself, observing the way he drags his thumb across his sensitive head and squeezes firmly at the base.

“Touching me how?” you encourage him.

“I… like this, touching your breasts, your bare skin,” he whispers. His other hand trails from your waist down to the crease of your hip. “Here too.”

“Do it then,” you whine. “Touch me, feel me.”

Finally, with his free hand he reaches between your thighs, tracing two fingertips along your folds. You’re already wet, and he groans softly before cursing under his breath.

“Let me show you,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to guide his hand.

You shift his hand up until his fingertips are pressed to your clit. “This is one of my favorite places to touch when I’m alone,” you tell him, nosing along his cheek. “Just touching here can get me off, actually.”

“R-really?” he breathes. “But what about… inside?”

“Inside, hm?” you croon. “Seems like you aren’t as ignorant as you let me believe.”

Ominis blushes a little and ducks his head, but he quickly tips his sightless gaze back up to you when you trace his fingertips along your slit to your entrance.

“Here,” you breathe. “If you want to go inside, it’s just here.”

“Can I?

“One finger first,” you tell him, and he’s perfectly gentle as he presses his long middle finger into your body.

You press your lips against his cheekbone and murmur, “Tell me how I feel, Ominis.”

“Warm. Wet, so wet,” he groans. His hand on his cock has gone completely still, forgotten in favor of exploring you with his other hand. “And – tight.”

It’s then that you have a brilliant idea.

“What if I let you use your mouth on me here?” you keen when he drags his thumb across your clit with his finger still inside you. “Would you like that?”

“I can do that?” Ominis asks. “You would want me to?”

“If you’re comfortable,” you tell him, gently running your fingers through his hair to loosen it a little from his daily coiffe. “I’d like to try it with you.”

Stunned, he nods and gently pulls out of you so that you can join him on the bed and lie on your back. Carefully, you drape one leg and then the other over his shoulders as he kneels between the apex of your thighs. You cross your ankles behind his back to coax him closer and onto his elbows, his face inches from where you most want him.

“What, er… how should I…” he asks.

“It’s instinct, love,” you croon, leaning back on your elbows and watching as he leans in a bit more, transfixed by how close he is to you. “I couldn’t possibly tell you, I’ve never done it myself.”

“Has anyone ever…?” he asks suggestively, one of his hands wrapping around your thigh.

“Ever what?” you tease him, utterly in love with the way it makes him blush harder.

“Has anyone else ever used their mouth on you?” he asks more firmly, nuzzling his temple against your inner thigh.

“Mmm, no,” you murmur.

He smirks to himself. “So I suppose I needn’t be worried about being compared.”

“Ominis,” you sigh. “I need you to do something, anything. Just try, I promise I’ll tell you if it’s working or not.”

“Please, tell me,” he requests. “I might not… It’s harder to be sure that I’m doing it right, if you’re quiet.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem,” you reply cheekily.

Without another word, Ominis leans in and presses his tongue to your skin, licking you open with broad, curious strokes of his tongue while he learns the taste and feel of you. You quickly lose your breath as he explores your drenched core.

You gasp sharply when he presses his tongue against your clit, and he quickly asks, “How does that feel?”

“Amazing,” you breathe. “That’s good, Ominis, right there, keep going.”

Ominis simply lights up after receiving your praise, and it makes your heart race adoringly to see how much he loves this – loves you.

He becomes more and more assured as he presses his tongue against your clit, and even without his sight, he couldn’t possibly miss how your legs tremble helplessly when he moans into your body, the vibrations sending you closer and closer to your climax.

He experiments with pressing his tongue inside you as well, and it feels nice, of course it does. But it’s just not as nice as when he’s paying attention to your clit, so without thinking, you reach down and tug on his blond hair to direct his mouth back to where you want it.

This time, when Ominis moans against your clit, it’s not for your benefit.

“Did you like that?” you ask knowingly, twisting your fingers deeper into his hair. Usually it’s so perfectly coiffed, but you imagine by the time you’re through with him, it might look more like Sebastian’s does after Quidditch practice.

“Yes,” he admits, his voice nearly a whine.

“Good. Make me come and you can tell me how else you’d like me to touch you.”

Desperate to finish you off, Ominis first wraps both hands around your thighs and positively buries his face between them, his tongue flicking over and over against your clit. Then he pulls one hand back and presses the tips of two fingers against your entrance.

“Inside?” he asks quickly.

“Yes,” you grit out. “I’m so close Ominis, don’t stop.”

Obediently, he presses his long, thin fingers inside you and curls them how you tell him to, and you only last another minute under his focused ministrations before you come hard, both hands now tangled in his hair to hold him in place until you’re too sensitive to take anymore.

When you finally push his face away, Ominis looks drunk. His mouth and chin are soaked from your release, his pale skin is burning red and his hair is a wild mess.

“So…” he murmurs, dragging a thumb across his lower lip and briefly sucking it clean. “How was that?”

“Don’t be daft,” you laugh deliriously, still staring up at the ceiling. “You’re a natural, Ominis, you get an Outstanding from me.”

He smiles and rests one of his hands on your bare hip, trailing the other up your waist to your neck so he can lean down and kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

However, despite how formal his countenance often is, he’s still a young man – and not a very patient one.

“I believe you said something about touching me now?” he murmurs, kissing down your chin to your neck and gently nipping at your pulse point.

“Mmm, yes, I do think you deserve a turn,” you agree.

You reach down to wrap your hand around his cock and slowly stroke him, earning a choked-off moan and a much less gentle bite against your neck.

“Which would you like, Ominis? My hand, my mouth, or my cunt?”

Ominis curses under his breath – you can tell he likes it when you’re vulgar, despite how often he chides Sebastian for using similar language around their other mates.

He zones out for a moment, considering, so you stroke him harder to bring his focus back to you. “Tell me, love.”

“Your – your body, I want… I want to be inside you,” he admits. “But I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”

“That’s alright,” you reassure him. “It’s only your first time, we’ll have many more times to practice.”

He whines softly and presses a kiss over the bruise he’s worked into the skin below your jawline. “Many more?”

“Focus,” you tease him. “Let’s enjoy this time first, alright? Are you ready?”

You drop your hand from his cock so he can sit back and line himself up against you, and you think that this must be where some amount of instinct kicks in because the juts of his hip bones line up perfectly with the insides of your thighs without so much as a guiding hand from you.

“Good, Ominis,” you breathe, and his cock jumps, its wet tip tapping against his stomach.

He takes himself in hand and presses the head of his cock against your entrance, tracing a line from your hole to your clit and back to learn just where to press in, and then he starts to sheath himself within you.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and you beam delightedly – you’ve never heard him talk like that before.

“That’s it, keep going,” you encourage him. “I can take all of you.”

He’s quite long, but he takes his time with you, slowly pressing in until his hips are flush with your thighs and his arms are trembling slightly as he holds himself above you.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, restraint clear in both his voice and the tense line of his jaw.

You cup your hand against the side of his face and murmur, “Not at all, you feel wonderful.”

“Can I move?” he pleads, and you breathe your yes against his lips.

Even without the muscle memory of a more experienced man, Ominis is a fast learner. He quickly sets a rhythm that has you dragging your hands down his chest and demanding more, harder, faster.

Your heart can barely take it when he simply meets your demands without a word, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you like it’s a gift to be inside you.

“I want to make you come again,” he confesses, leaning down to kiss you wherever he can put his mouth on you – your jaw, your shoulder, your lips. “Can I?”

“Yes,” you breathe, because your first orgasm had left you so sensitive you’re sure you can come again before Ominis finishes.

In fact, you think if you asked him, he’d make himself wait for you.

You slide a hand down your body and start to touch yourself, rubbing your clit the way you know you like when you need a release. You want to be quick – you want him to learn how it feels when you come around his cock.

“Close,” he grunts, his hands fisting in the sheets beside you. “Love, please…”

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, leaning up to nip at his lower lip. “Let me come first, Ominis, I promise it’s worth waiting for.”

“I can’t,” he whines, but you know he can – you can see how he’s straining to hold back, his stomach taut and his arms tense beside your head.

“Just a little more, love, and – ah!” you gasp, because when he sits back just a little – as if trying to physically pull back from falling over the edge – his cock presses against a spot inside you that’s just enough to make you see stars.

It’s barely seconds after you come that Ominis groans helplessly and spills inside you, his thrusts coming to a halt when he feels you become impossibly tighter around him.

You stroke your hands lazily up and down his back while he catches his breath, mercifully not dropping his full weight onto you in favor of gently rolling to the side, hooking your leg over his hip.

“What’s the verdict, then?” you ask him softly, tracing your fingertips along his jawline and smiling at the blissful look on his face.

“We’re doing that again, quite literally as soon as I can,” he pants, and you can’t help but laugh brightly and bury your face against his chest.

“How charming!” you tease him. “That’s it, hm? Have I finally made a monster of you?”

“Without a doubt,” he agrees, pressing his nose to your hair.

[irkimatsu]

why can't I stop writing, I'm in love, I'm sorry

Husk/Reader, Husk brings Reader on a date, confessions are made, sappy sappy sappy

---

Husk is planning a very special date with you tonight. You've been on plenty of dates together, but that's all been things like drinks at dive bars and simple walks through the park. Tonight, he wants to go all out for you. You deserve it. He tells you to wear your nicest outfit, "though you'll look great no matter what you wear, doll", and to leave all planning and financial concerns to him. Just let him spoil you for a night.

He hasn't told you yet, but there's something he wants to talk to you about, and he can't say it unless he can get the mood perfect.

He shows up at your hotel room door in his nicest suit, and is immediately stunned by your own choice of outfit. "...you look great." Despite his earlier assurance that you always look great, he seems genuinely taken aback. The evening starts at a high-end steakhouse, where Husk tells you to order whatever you want with no concern for the price. You can have drinks or dessert if you want; it's all on him! You appreciate his generosity, although of course you don't want to take advantage of him. (Perhaps part of him still believes that careless spending is the best way he has of impressing anyone...) He then takes you to a live jazz show, where the two of you dance into the late hours of the night. You have a great time together, but soon the crowd becomes a bit much, and you both need fresh air. So, you decide to step outside to an outside eating area. There are plenty of tables, but none of them are taken, giving you some level of privacy here. You can still faintly hear the music from the club, and as a slow song begins, he wraps his arm around your waist and takes your hand.

"I wish the sky here wasn't so awful, and that it wasn't so damn humid," he says. "I wanna dance with you under the moon, in a cool breeze."

That romantic side of him never truly died. Maybe you realized that about him before he did.

"I'm still enjoying it," you assure him as you let him lead you in a slow dance. His eyes are transfixed on you the whole time, enraptured... and maybe a little nervous?

A love song that Husk knows well begins to play. You can barely hear the singer in the club, but you don't need to; Husk is happy to sing it for you, his smooth voice singing every word and note effortlessly, as if it's a song he's sung so many times before. He used to be a performer, so maybe he has. You lean your head against his chest as he serenades you, decades of practice bringing him to one of the most important songs he'll ever sing in his life.

The song ends, but Husk doesn't start singing the next one, even though you're sure he knows this one as well. He's content to keep swaying with you, and you're content to keep listening to his heart.

"Hey... doll?" he says. "I gotta... I gotta tell you something."

You look up at him again, and see that his eyes are completely dilated; in wonder, or in fear?

"I... I like..." He swallows. "I want... fuck. It's... been a long time since I've had to do this. I... can I kiss you?"

Does he even need to ask? He's kissed you so many times before, and you've always welcomed it. Well, at least he's a gentleman who respects your boundaries whether it's the first or hundredth time; it's one of the many things you've come to adore about him. You nod, and he kisses you. It's not a particularly deep kiss, with no use of tongue, but it lingers, as if he can't bear to pull away. He cradles your face in his paws and gently brushes his claws over your cheeks.

He murmurs something during a brief break in the kiss, and before you can comprehend it, his mouth is on yours again. As he keeps kissing you, your brain finally catches up to your ears.

"...I love you."

You'd say it back, but that would mean pulling away from the kiss. Instead, you respond by combing your fingers through the fur on the back of his head and pulling his mouth closer to you.

How long have you been standing there kissing him? Is the music still playing? Can anyone see you? None of that seems to matter. What matters is that you're here with him. You're kissing him.

"...I love you, too." You think you manage to say that at some point in the evening, but everything is such a blur...

"We should... get back to the hotel," Husk says, breathlessly, when he finally comes up for air. "Unless there's something else you want to do?"

"I'm fine with going back." A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you consider your next statement. "But I don't think I'm ready for our date to end yet. Maybe we could... spend the night together? In your room?"

Husk's eyes blow wide, and his tail stands up in curiosity. "I'd... I'd like that."

You don't know yet exactly what you want to do when you get back there, but you know Husk will respect whatever choice you make in the end. That respect for you, always framed as common human decency, is one of the many reasons you're so willing to return his feelings.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Sharing a darling

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Arcana & Forget Me Not ] [ Reverse 1999 ]

⚠️ Yandere, I don't support nor try to romanticize this toxic behaivor, is just for entretaiment

Hehehe >:3 i admit it i love Mister Forget me Not, I couldn't just not do this!

I don't like Arcana that much but broooo it have being so cool to write for her!! Maybe I should add her at the list of characters <333

Manus Vindictae is constantly recruiting more arcantist from all around the word to join their cause, so recruiting you where the perfect excuse to dragg you with them and keep you close

Arcana was the first one to catch feeling for you, it happens slowly, at first Arcana just knew you would be someone interesting so she herself trying to convince you to become part of them, saying that a precious arcantist like you shouldn't just settle for a life with the ordinary humans. She has her way around with words, knowing what to say to make you stay with her, gaining more and more power over you as her feeling grow

Forget me Not ended up having feeling for you after you joined Manus Vindictae, before having feelings for you he had just a few small interactions with you since Arcana didn't mind letting you have some freedom around what she considere her territory, Forget me Not feelings grow quite quick and that just lead him to want to be closer to you

However, Forget me Not felt bad for his own feelings since he knows how important you are for Arcana (she doesn't even try to hide it, she doesn't has reasons to do so), he tried to hold back his feelings as much as he could but it was unstopable, the need of being close to you and protect you is burning him inside. In all honestly, Arcana just found his actions funny, he is a loyal follower of hers and a key piece for the organization, she trust him and knows he will no betray her so she wouldn't mind much sharing you with him

Arcana decided to give Forget me Not the charge of taking care of you and keep close whenever she has important matter to attend as an indirect way to tell him that she allows him to love you too, wich make Forget me Not feel relief and let himself express his own feelings

Forget me Not is a gentleman when it comes to you, prioritazing your safety and comfort about anything else (also doing it in the name of Arcana), as long as you don't fight back against him you could pretty much recive a royalty treatment from his part, wanting nothing but protect you from the cruelty and despair this world causes to innocents

While Arcana has not too much problems with giving you some freedom (but still watching over you and having subordinates around you to make sure you don't do anything you shouldn't do) Forget me Not doesn't like others around you, he is more possessive and pretty much insolate you, only leaving people he gives strict permision to be with you, aside from Arcana of course. Even when Forget me Not feels anxious seeing you walk around thanks to Arcana he doesn't have the right to say anything, he has no right to go against what she says so he just swallow his anxiety and try to trust in her care for you (or sometimes is he the one keeping you company and watching over you)

Arcana doesn't has much problems with sharing you with Forget me Not, but she makes sure that you two understand that she is the one with the power in here, everytime she want you to be with her Forget me Not has no other option than stop whatever he was doing to let you go with her, not him or you has the right to say no

As well, contrary to Forget me Not, for Arcana you are more like a doll for her entretaiment, you won't be mistreaten but has pretty much not voice nor vote, you can complain about small and insignificant things and she will be willing to even change a few things for you, but with important things she is the one in the power and you'll have to obey unless you want her to be mad. Most of the time Arcana is pretty loving and gentle with you, but that would depend in how well you behaive, she will not accept rebelious attitude and has not problem with get violent if thats what it take for you to understand

Despite the problems they can be, if you behaive and doesn't fight your safety will be assured, both know how to treat you right and are quite doting, not having any problem in giving you all you want and need as long as you behaive

[retrieve-the-kraken]

I don’t know if someone has already said this, but to me sending Wilhelm to Hillerska was never about him adopting the right routines or learning responsibilities. And it wasn’t, like the Queen said, about keeping him from scandalous situations or making sure that they don’t arise. Sure, maybe it was a part of it, but not the only reason. Ultimately, it was about keeping Wilhelm a secret.

Tucked away in the middle of nowhere in a boarding school where the press can’t catch a whiff of anything, and it can’t damage the image of the monarchy. What happens in Hillerska stays in Hillerska, and the Queen knows this very well, having attended there. She talks about going to wild parties at the Palace and being aware of the culture of drinking and drugs and sex and partying, because it’s encouraged. It is an environment that fosters secrecy, that enables bad behavior and keeping it under wraps, it is part of the code, both the Royal code and the Hillerska code.

So Wilhelm could do whatever he wanted over there, he could be as wild as he had been before, he could do anything, hook up with anyone, the important thing was that it would stay out of the news, out of the public eye.

Except that it didn’t.

(It was a particularly big deal that the video, “the truth”, was revealed by August, one of the strongest advocates for the secrecy code, the one that claims that they could kill someone and get away with it… so for him to break the code of secrecy is brutal… but it’s worth pointing out that he only did it after Wilhelm broke the code himself, when he revealed in front of the members of the secret Society that August had financial problems. An eye for an eye…)

So maybe the whole commotion regarding the video being public wasn’t so much about Wilhelm being queer, although it probably was in part, but mostly it was about him being queer on a video spread all over the internet. It was about how public it got, how very un-secret it became.

And the only way that the Royal Court resolves to fix this secret coming out is to cover it with more lies. The show itself opens with a lie, when Wilhelm has to give a statement saying that he’s willingly going to Hillerska, and the season ends with him lying about being in the video, hiding his own identity, having to pretend that August wasn’t behind everything, and having to hide his relationship with Simon. Then season 2 is about him dealing with the aftermath of all of that, with complying with the secrecy, being offered new ways to stay secret (Nils and his invitation to Verbier, to hook up with men that will be discreet, etc).

Wilhelm is never really okay with secrecy, he is an advocate for privacy. He doesn’t want to say anything but he doesn’t want to hide either. He is not ashamed of his sexuality, but he is worried about how it reflects on the monarchy, on his family, his brother, and he is stressed about having to maintain appearances, having to hide his anxiety, having to be a public figure, having to be basically perfect, or at least perceived as perfect.

Wilhelm is very aware and a victim of the toxic masculinity around him, and it makes me wonder where he gets it from: from little things like when he looks annoyed when August talks about getting with Felice before she develops self-esteem (to which, to my dismay, Erik did laugh) or being affectionate with his brother or being a perfect gentleman when Felice kissed him and when she apologized for kissing him, to bigger things like being close friends with Felice and refusing to participate in “on the table” and of course, revealing his relationship with Simon on national television.

(Wilhelm does, unfortunately, play into the toxic masculinity a lot this season, because that is what often happens in toxic environments, in masculine competitive culture. You have to “play the game” if you want to survive, and Wilhelm sees that the only way to get revenge on August is to play the same game: playing with power, taking away power, being dominant when he wants to get into the party and when he dismantles the seniority hierarchy in the dining hall, when he challenges August knowing that he has him “by the balls”, cheating during training, lying to Alexander… and ultimately pointing a gun at August. All of these things are enabled by the environment of Hillerska, and they work for a while, but they definitely don’t work with Simon. What ultimately helps Wilhelm get Simon back is showing all the non-toxic qualities that he already possessed: being kind, being honest, owning up to his mistakes, being patient, giving him space, letting him go, even if it hurts like hell… It’s obvious that Wilhelm is not perfect, but fortunately Wilhelm never aims for perfect, he aims for good.)

(It’s worth mentioning that, as a monarch and as a former student of Hillerska, Kristina was probably a victim and a perpetrator of the same toxic masculinity, competitive culture, because as a woman in a male dominated world, she probably also felt that she had to play the game. She continues to enable this culture by maintaining the secrecy code, to her own detriment and the detriment of her son, but she probably knows no other way. But we’ve already talked at length about this. EDIT: I forgot to add that I think that’s part of the reason why she looks so disconcerted and tense when Wilhelm says what he says during his speech, because she’s scared, because she’s aware that it’s a toxic man’s world out there, and it’s particularly harsh and toxic for anyone who doesn’t fit into the masculinity role, that means women like her, queers like Wilhelm, and minorities like Simon… )

Simon also likes his privacy, he doesn’t need to be public with Wilhelm, until the whole thing comes out, and Wilhelm is forced to lie. Then of course he feels awful, like he’s some dirty little secret. He doesn’t understand that that’s just how Hillerska works, how the monarchy works, that is the secrecy code, and he doesn’t understand the pressure that Wilhelm is under to continue to uphold that code. That is until he has a secret of his own to hide, the drugs he stole from his father, and that he has to protect himself and his family. When he finally understands that the secrecy is a monster that he will never defeat, he realizes that maybe it’s not worth fighting it anymore, the important thing is to be with Wilhelm, to be able to love him, no matter what, even if it has to be in secret. As long as there are no more secrets between them.

And that’s when it hits Wilhelm. The moment that Simon tells him that he’s okay with being a secret, is the moment that Wilhelm realizes that he is not okay with that, that he doesn’t want any more secrets at all. He realizes that he will always be trapped in one lie after the other, always be a victim of the secrecy code, unless he puts a stop to it.

So he tells the truth. The ultimate truth. “It was me in the video. Me and Simon. I lied because it was private. But it’s me.” In one single moment the video goes from a raunchy sex tape to a horrible violation of privacy, he condemns the “unknown” perpetrator of this violation, he makes it seem that it was his choice to lie and absolves the Monarchy from having forced him to lie, he advocates for privacy, he regains control of the narrative for himself and for Simon, he condemns secrecy, and he sets himself free.

The truth will always set you free.

Or at least we hope.