#look at how silly they are trying to be sneaky

[limethefirst]

Kidnapping Buddy

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: kidnapping (it’s silly though)

summary: you find yourself kidnapped by Robotnik but Shadow finds you quite interesting

a/n: request my mutual sent me recently so I knew I had to come through 🙂‍↕️, here you go!

You didn’t think you’d be spending your day tied to a chair in Robotniks weird Crab helicopter, but here you were. Unfortunately you were considered a useful asset as bait against your parents and Sonic to keep them from trying to stop him from ‘ruling the world’.

It was dumb and extremely boring, especially with no one to talk to. Then he showed up, Shadow was assigned with the task to make sure you didn’t escape, you were a sneaky teen after all. Robotnik himself knew that because you had foiled his plans several times before with your (technically) brother Sonic.

You guys were like two devils when combined together, it was actually quite frightening for Robotnik, which contributed to the reason why you were kidnapped. Keeping you away from Sonic was his idea of lessening the verbal abuse he got from you two.

Shadow didn’t know that though, all he knew was that you were supposed to be their leverage in case of emergency and he was to treat you as such. Too bad he was underestimating you.

As Shadow walked into the room you were held, his gaze never left yours. He fixed himself to lean against the wall, arms crossed as he studied you. You looked harmless enough, he didn’t understand why Robotnik even wanted you here, the mission would’ve gone just fine without you.

Shadow closed his eyes for a second, thinking to himself before opening them up again only to see you had untied yourself. Your arms free as you rubbed your sore wrists.

“This flight sucks, where are the snack?” You asked Shadow, a smirk placed on your features as you teased him subtly.

Shadow stood there dumbfounded as to how you were able to untie yourself in less than five seconds. Thanks to Sonic and all the mishaps he’d had with Eggman your parents thought it was good to teach you a few essentials in case something like this happened.

“How?” Shadow asked you. Somewhat blocking the only exit.

You let out a sigh and sat back down on the floor, not really seeing a reason to leave, “This isn’t the first time..” you smiled as you looked around the room.

He stood there a bit longer before walking closer, seeing you didn’t seem to have much of an urge to leave, “Explain.”

And so you did, you went on an annoyingly long rant about how Robotnik liked to try and capture you or your family members to use against Sonic but it never worked.

As you talked Shadow found himself engrossed. He sat across from you, no longer worried if you escaped, he’d probably catch you anyway. While you told your stories he noticed you were very expressive, it reminded him about his short encounter with the other hedgehog he’d briefly met.

“That sounds obnoxious.” Shadow mumbled, his brows furrowed and armed crossed.

“It really is!!” You exclaimed, your arms thrown in the air as you huffed. You didn’t really know Shadow well and you knew he was the enemy but he was honestly fun to talk to, at least more than Robotnik and Stone were.

Before you’d realized it you had already spent a lot of time talking with Shadow, he may have been a bit intimidating but he was genuinely really cool. Even he seemed to enjoy himself around you, finding amusement in your stories. He honestly hoped you’d be able to escape or your brothers come and save you.

Time continued to pass as you spent time with Shadow, talking about mindless things. His responses quick but it was more in his nature to listen anyway. You were a fun ‘prisoner’, even if you would argue you willingly let yourself be kidnapped (you did not).

[jackshiccup]

the astrid snotlout unlikely alliance episode

[fancy-rock-dove]

today in defenses of boromir that no one asked for: tired of reading that boromir’s death was in vain because he failed to save merry & pippin from the uruk-hai.  the fact that this clearly important warrior was willing to die to protect those two is what convinced the urukhai that they had indeed captured the halfing who carried whatever important thing saruman wanted.  they took the hobbits to isengard (to isengard gard) because they thought they had the right ones!  boromir didn’t succeed in preventing their capture but he did in fact keep them alive by making them seem valuable.  furthermore, he actually also saves frodo in this way: because the orcs and uruk-hai think they have what they came for, they stop looking and turn back: if they had not, they might have ultimately found and captured frodo or at least raised the alarm that a hobbit with an Important Thing was on the loose, setting others searching.  which is the very heart of tolkien’s worldview - that you do the right thing because it is right, and doing the right thing is never in vain. 

to conclude this essay boromir died a hero and saved not just merry and pippin but also frodo and sam - and in doing so also saved himself from the ring’s attempt to twist him to its own ends

[lokissweater]

birthday boy!satoru who sleepily grins and smiles when you wake him up with a giant cake and gifts in bed, slowly propping himself up on an elbow and rubbing his eyes, your sweet soft voice singing him ‘happy birthday’ as he looks at you with a little gleam in his eyes.

birthday boy!satoru who devours the cake you bought him right then and there, refuses to go to the dining room table or get plates and refuses to let you leave the room, a fork in each of your hands as you both munch on his frosty vanilla bean cake, satoru’s eyes lightning up like stars once he sees that his precious pretty wife also got him kikufuku, his hands shooting out to tear open the packaging and stuff two in his mouth at once, feeding you one in return and him poking your puffed up cheeks with a shiny grin because you’re just oh so cute.

birthday boy!satoru who still refuses to let you leave his side once you’ve both cleared the desserts, his arms snaking around your waist and gently pulling you to lay on top of him, your bellies full and the sugar swirling in your heads proving no match for satoru as he raises a sneaky hand, fingers looping and pulling at the thin straps of your top down to devour you next, his favorite dessert, you squirming and giggling as you try to swat his hands away and tell him no…. but you let him have a little taste anyways, it’s his birthday after all! 

birthday boy!satoru who hasn’t even taken a peak at his presents because he just wants you, licking you up like the icing he licked off of his fingers just a few minutes prior, wet slick tongue running from the side of your neck down to your puffy plump tits as you prop yourself up, hands on his bare chest and with a shudder to your breath.

birthday boy!satoru who slobbers hickeys into your tits and sucks your nipples like a freak, you whining pushing at his chest and telling him he’s sucking too hard, and him only giving you a muffled ‘but it’s my birthday sweets!’ before sucking harder and taking advantage of your cute boobs, his big hands gripping your upper arms to keep you up and still.

birthday boy!satoru who finally listens to your protests about how you have plans made for him and you need to get going, a pout to his pretty face and dramatically moaning about how he wanted ‘morning birthday sex’ from his wife, but his face quickly switching back to that loving silly grin you love so much as soon as he sees you giggle and smile.

birthday boy!satoru who is bouncing off the walls when you tell him you got tickets to the new winter wonderland festival that’s in your town, him wanting to go since practically birth (last year) and talking your ear off about it ever since then, sprinting out of bed and putting on his pants and thin sweatshirt.

birthday boy!satoru who pouts again when you drag him back in the house because his attire is not fit for the weather outside, and pouts still as you’re bundling him up in a thicker puffer jacket, his cheeks going pink once you press a sweet kiss to his jutted out lips and chasing yours for more, obnoxious kissy noises filling the air.

birthday boy!satoru who nearly collapses upon arriving at the winter wonderland festival, the name doing itself justice with the holiday decorations strewn about and pinecone ornament filled garlands hanging from every post lamp, the particularly snowy day adding to the christmas feel as he quickly interlaces your fingers together and drags you around.

birthday boy!satoru who gets in line to meet santa, scoffing over the weird looks the parents in line were giving him as you laughed, him muttering something about how it’s discrimination to be judged like this just because he’s not a kid, and that his christmas wish list was just as important as a five year olds.

birthday boy!satoru who jumps on the old man’s lap with a huge smile, santa’s alarmed eyes darting in every corner as your husband went on about the things he wanted (mainly sweets), not a single ounce of giving a shit in his body because it was his day.

birthday boy!satoru who finishes off his christmas wish list with ‘oh! and for my wife to never divorce me! yeah put that one at the top actually—’

birthday boy!satoru who refuses to let you treat him the entire day, saying he was satoru gojo and that he was made of money for you to spend, you playfully rolling your eyes as he got gingerbread cookie after gingerbread cookie for you, and the one time you show up with peppermint kikufuku, he kisses your cheek over and over a million fucking times in gratitude.

birthday boy!satoru who by the end of the day is spent from hours worth of eating sweets and desserts and riding the kiddy rides, requesting to get on the ferris wheel one more time just as the two of you were leaving to go home.

birthday boy!satoru who has an arm around your shoulders and a cheek on the side of your head on the ferris wheel, his heart fuzzy and warm despite the chilling temperature of the night, all due to precious little you that made his day so special in the way that you did, in the way that you do every year that makes him absolutely melt and feel worthwhile.

birthday boy!satoru who cups your cheek and brings you in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips amongst the glittering lights, music, and laughter of the festival below, feeling borderline emotional over the fact that he’s married to such a beautiful person like you.

“will you marry me baby?”

“toru we’re already married—”

“oh so you want to divorce me then—”

birthday boy!satoru who leaves the festival with you hand in hand, and with a new found sense of energy because his sugar filled brain managed to remember the promise you made him this morning, one that had to do with sexy time upon arriving home, his hands literally harassing you the entire car ride home with them shoved down your shirt or a needy squeeze to your thighs.

birthday boy!satoru who deems this the best birthday he’s ever had in his life.

but birthday boy!satoru knows that he has the best birthdays of his life every year actually, and knowing that they were ever since he met and married you, for they were never this sweet before.

authors note: happy birthday to my glorious honored one OH how i need him <333 :33

[wettbunnyy]

turning a sub on and then degrading them for it >>>>

putting your hand over their mouth to cover up those little noises (or better yet shoving their face into a pillow!) and scolding them for making them in the first place

when they get greedy and start grinding on your tongue so you start licking and sucking harder, grabbing onto their thighs when they try and squirm away, “i thought you wanted more? you’re getting more, stupid slut.”

making fun of the noises coming from between their legs, making them aware of how wet they are/how much precum they’re leaking, just letting them focus on those lewd sounds and get all embarrassed

grabbing their face to make them look you in the eye while you grope them harder, no matter how much they blush

putting one, two, three fingers in and telling them off for being so easy to fill

forcing their legs open and slapping their thighs for even trying to hide from you

loveeee when a silly brat tries to hide that i’m turning them on, because they know i’ll find out and see past their poor little poker face. and ofc you’ve gotta punish them for trying to be sneaky <3

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

[covetyou]

you all the way down

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: vaguely dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), masturbation, oral sex (f and m receiving), face sitting, spanking, cum swallowing, no use of y/n. word count: 4.3k summary: You have a rare moment of privacy, a chance to luxuriate in bringing yourself closer and closer to a peak you've been teasing yourself with for hours.... Until a knock at your door snatches it all away.

A/N: I hit a follower milestone this week - thank you all so much for your follows, comments, reblogs, friendship, sneaky trips into my DMs and asks, and for loving the same silly, absurd, and horny things I do.

see you next week 💛

title from I, Carrion (Icarian) by hozier.

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You didn't often do it like this. You didn't often have the time. Or the privacy.

It was a rare luxury to have the apartment to yourself, and so, for the best part of an hour - maybe more - you'd been slowly and steadily teasing yourself. With no plans and no work, you could take your time, turn the slow drag of your hands all over your body into steady smooth movements that dipped between your legs. Fingers that pinched nipples, scratched at your belly, dragged themselves over your thighs found themselves nestled between your legs dipping down and teasing. Down, and up, and around, and back down again. Sweeping through wet folds and swiping over your clit in gloriously slow strokes. You were making your own skin prickle, your own breath catch in your throat, and it was divine.

How long you teased yourself and made yourself smile and sigh in the confines of your own room, you didn't know exactly. It didn't matter. Your dad was at work and you weren't. You were here, alone, finally pushing one slicked up finger inside yourself and making yourself gasp.

Fuck, did you deserve this. You deserved the soft and the slow way you teased yourself, brought yourself close to the edge and then eased off. You deserved the way you made yourself moan, catching yourself with a laugh when you heard yourself through the blood in your ears.

You deserved to come, right here, nestled in all your soft things, thinking glorious thoughts about hands and bodies surrounding yours, overwhelming you until you came, shuddering, in their grasp.

You deserved to come begging and urging yourself on to the emptiness of your room, your own filthy mouth finding flight and soaring, working with the fingers in your cunt and on your clit to bring yourself to an edge you'd let yourself teeter on, almost making yourself cry as you held back, held off, and kept that fierce explosion at bay.

Until a knock at your door snatched it all away.

Your body registers it before your brain does. The fuse you'd ignited sputters out, your fingers still working over your clit that has suddenly gone shy and numb and unfeeling, making you twitch uncomfortably. Then, your door rattles with a heavy handed knock again, and you sit up with a start.

Fuck this asshole.

Tumbling from tangled sheets, you frantically reach for something to cover you. As you hop through your apartment, one leg in your pants, the other out, another knock hammers at the door.

"Okay! I'm coming!" Only you weren't, because that was ruined now, thanks to this heavy handed asshole and their impeccable timing.

Wiping damp fingers on your pants, you huff out a frustrated breath and try to pin a fake smile onto your face before opening the door. It swings inward, just as the start of another impatient knock begins, and in with it comes a man you should be surprised to see.

Joel Miller breezes past you - barely having to push his way in as you stare at him in stunned silence - to stand in your living room, looking curiously around at the small space.

"Nice place," he says, with a look on his face that says differently. You know it's far from a nice place. There wasn't a single apartment in this building that was a nice place. If this were normal times, the whole block would have been condemned years ago, but here you were, stuck at the end of the world in a shitty apartment that was the only place you had to call home.

As you close the door, you take a quick glance down at what you'd thrown on. The pajama pants have seen better days - everything had seen better days - and the shirt you'd grabbed has more holes in the seams than you care to even check for. It was in your pile of things to fix that you hadn't quite got around to yet and now here it was, hanging off your body like you were wearing lace, not flannel.

"What're you here for?" you ask, trying to hide the holes in your with a not-so-subtle movement of your arms.

"Like to check in on my clients from time to time," he says, finally looking you over and noticing your arms tucked tightly over your chest. "Am I disturbin' somethin'?"

Yes. "No."

"You ain't workin'?"

No shit. "Day off."

"Alright," he says, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

You aren't wearing any panties. "Nothing."

He's crossing the small space to stand right in front of you, and you know from the second his nostrils flair that he knows. He probably knew from the moment he came in, probably somehow even from the other side of the door. You weren't exactly being quiet, or discreet, and if there's one thing you knew it was that Joel Miller knew you just about better than anybody else.

"Bullshit, sweetheart."

If you weren't already so turned on at your own hand, you know you'd be rapidly getting wetter. Just the smell of him in your home is sending your mind, and your pussy, into overdrive. He's never stepped foot in here before, and you know you shouldn't like it. A man like Joel, a man who has clients to come check on, isn't someone you should be happy to have snooping about in your apartment and your business.

But one look at that cocky smirk on his face, and you know you'd be very happy to have him snooping around your business. In fact, by the way your pussy pulses at the sight of him, you think you'd be happy to have him very deep in your business right here pressed up against your front door.

Instead, in a last ditch effort to retain your dignity, you push the frustration back into your voice and step around him, throwing your hands into the air.

"You just come here, pound at the door, and then bust right in here the second I open it! I was - I'm busy, Joel."

"Busy?" Joel scoffs. You can see the thought as it comes to him, sly smile twitching the corners of his mouth as he fakes disinterest. "Then go right on ahead and get back to what you were doin', don't mind me."

You stare him down, heart pounding in your throat. The distance between you is still small. You could be on him in an instant. You think you could use the element of surprise and tackle him to the ground. His coat would come off easy enough, but beneath that who knows what he's wearing. Probably layers. Fucking Boston. Still, you didn't exactly need all of them off, you only needed access to one thing, and when your eyes flick down to the bulge in his jeans you resolutely set your shoulders and turn around.

"Fine."

A button falls from loose threads as your hands fly down the front of your shirt. In no time at all you're flinging it over your shoulder, hitting Joel square in the face where he stands in your bedroom doorway, watching.

He catches it in one hand, fingering one of the holes. "This what you call, busy?"

The pajama pants you'd tied about your waist drop to your feet and in no time at all you're naked again, climbing onto your bed, the pillows and sheets you were nested in welcoming you back in - still warm. "Like you didn't know, asshole."

"I ain't got a sixth fuckin' sense, sweetheart."

You glare at him from across the room and he shrugs, leaning casually on the doorframe as he watches you lie back. If you didn't know better, you'd think he didn't know where to look. One moment he's looking at the scowl on your face, and the next he's looking down at your breasts, the curve of your ass, taking a peek between your legs as you shuffle down your bed. It's all going so fast, you think for once you may just have the upperhand. Joel Miller, you think, is flustered.

He watches you as you stroke down your body, quicker than the slow, teasing pace you'd set with yourself earlier. Your thighs fall open as your hands reach your hips, and your fingers reach down to spread yourself as he watches on.

"This what you were doin'?"

"Yes, now can you shut up."

You shut your eyes and get back to where you left off. You're still wet and slick, your fingers slipping easily back into the grip of your pussy. If you just try to block him out, standing in the doorway staring between your spread legs, you can get right back where you left off. You can find that edge again, even through the oversensitivity. You know you can, and this time, you're going to throw yourself screaming over it.

Curling your fingers, you reach down and twist your torso until you can reach that delicious spot you found earlier. Then, your other hand begins working back over your clit, spit slicked and swiping eagerly over the sensitive nub. Picking up the pace, you try to ignore the twitches in your legs and the way your thighs already want to clamp shut on your own hands.

You ignore it, that is, until Joel chimes in from the doorway.

"You're gonna rub the fuckin' thing clean off if you keep goin' at it like that."

Hitting the bed in frustration, you growl and sit up again, staring wild eyed at him. "If you're such a fucking expert, then why don't you get over here and help me. I am naked, Joel, and my cunt is right here."

Your mouth snaps shut the moment you gesture down to your spread legs. You snap them shut too. By the way he's silently peeling off his coat, you're certain you've fucked up, though you can't say you're too mad about it. With any luck, he'll fuck you to within an inch of your life in a way so satisfying your ruined orgasm will be all but forgotten.

With his coat discarded, he pulls off a sweater and unbuttons his shirt - flannel and significantly less holey than the one you've just thrown at him. Then, he grabs a pillow you'd discarded earlier and sits at the edge of your bed.

"C'mere," he beckons as he lays back, folding the pillow and shoving it behind his head.

You don't move. You're frozen in place as he shifts and gets himself comfortable. You don't know what this is, what he's planning, but you're certain it's something he's never done before. And it's going to happen right here, in your bedroom, the very place you'd spent night after night dreaming of the many wonderful ways he would fuck you.

"You want my help, or not?" he says in frustration, looking over to you where you're rooted in place. You nod stupidly, and follow the beckon of his fingers until you're kneeling by his side.

His rough hands find your thigh and push you until you're sat up on your knees. Then, he's dragging one of your legs over his clothed chest until you're straddling him, trying to keep the wet mess between your legs from soaking through his shirt.

"Up here," he says. "Want that pussy, and I ain't kneeling for it."

And suddenly it all clicks into place and you are mortified. For everything he'd done to you, for how much you knew he loved to look, you'd never once done something like this to him. You felt awkward even riding him, until his flithy words of encouragement and the drag of his cock inside you knocked every thought out of your brain.

Now, he was wanting you to sit on his face, somehow not suffocating him in the process. So, you laugh, shaking as you hold your weight above his chest.

"Look like I'm jokin' to you?" he says in a tone so stern and serious your eyes force their way down to where his face sits perilously close to the apex of your legs.

Which, of course, is a fucking mistake. He's licking his lips and looking up at you - all over every inch of you - eating you alive with his stare.

He pushes and pulls you then, dragging you up his chest until your knees are settled either side of his face. You can feel the gust of his breath against your thighs just before he hauls you forward a little more until his half face is completely covered by your cunt, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose visible now.

"Fuckin' christ. You're a mess down here. You been goin' at it for a while, huh?" he says, and you can feel every word blow against you even as you hover as far as you can above his face.

"Uh-huh," you say, a kiss sucked to your thigh striking stealing all thought from your mind.

"Get real close?" he says, with another kiss, hands kneading at your thighs and ass as they wrap around you and try to tug you closer.

You nod, hoping he can see you as your eyes slip closed with the feeling of him right here, between your legs, in your room.

"Hm. That's a damn shame, sweetheart. Bet you're achin' for it somethin' fierce right now, ain't you?" he asks from between your legs. You look down and you know in that moment the fucked look on your face says more than you ever could when he hums, spreading your thighs apart with his strong fingers.

"Better sit your ass down then," he mumbles into your thigh, pulling you down. "That's it, bring it here. Ain't strainin' my fuckin' neck for it, give it to me."

So you do. You settle down slowly onto his face, listening as he guides you down until you feel the first broad swipe of his tongue up through your folds.

"What'd I say," he says, swallowing the taste of you. "A fuckin' mess."

He kisses around your clit, nudging it with the curved tip of his nose when he finally licks up into you again. And then, he's pulling your flush to his face and feasting.

The noise that leaves you is stupid. Somewhere between a gasp and a moan and a question all at once. His nose is pressed against you, his laughter fanning out across your mound as you try not to squirm and wiggle against him, fearful of crushing his head beneath your weight, or at the very least suffocating him.

His face burrows deeper, his hands holding you firm, squeezing and scraping calloused fingertips against your delicate skin. The scruff on his cheeks feels rough against the places you were so soft with earlier, and you don't care in the slightest.

It works, you think.

Where the soft feel of your own hands felt too much - too familiar - to the parts of you that were now too sensitive to them, the rough, all consuming movements of Joel's mouth on your swollen pussy feels like a welcome relief as he laps at your hole, slick and dripping from your thwarted solo session.

His hands move from anchoring you to his face, locked around your thighs, to pressing against your ass, gripping the globes of them in each of his broad hands.

And then, as if it wasn't all so much already, he begins to stroke up and down your seam, pulling you apart, dipping into your dripping cunt and teasing over your exposed asshole as he laps and suckles away at your clit.

Still, as good as it all is, you can't let go. You can't get back to that place you'd climbed so close to. You feel exposed, sat upright with the frigid October air of your bedroom encasing you. Self-conscious too - all chins and bad angles and slouchy shoulders. And, most of all, you were terrified you were going to hurt him. One wrong twitch or snap shut of your legs and his air supply would be gone, or his neck snapped, and you'd have a dead man in your bed and -

A sharp slap connects with your ass cheek, Joel's strong hands pulling you upwards from his face, cheeks glistening and lips swollen red.

"Lean forward," he says, with a nip to your thigh.

As you go to move, walking forward on your knees, a hand grips your waist, and another slap hits your thigh, rippling your skin where it frames his face.

"Said lean, not fuckin' move off. You're gonna sit right here 'til you come, but you ain't comin' any time soon if you don't fuckin' lean and relax."

A strong hand pushes at your lower back then, making you hinge forward until your elbows collide with the bed. Your ass is in the air, legs spread just wide enough that your bare cunt is tantalizingly close to Joel's mouth, and now you get it. You shift on your knees, soothing the small ache that had built up, and look down at the brown-grey hair between your legs that's sucking hickies into your thighs.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs as he marks you, delivering swift, gentle smacks to your ass as you groan, planting your cheek firmly against your bed.

You drag a blanket toward you, covering yourself a little and tucking your face into the softness of it. Joel's smacks turn to scrapes of his blunt nails over the backs of your thighs and then, when your brain finally switches off and you fall into that mindless, soft place that has you feeling heavy and floaty all at once, you press your hips forward and drag your bare pussy across Joel's waiting tongue.

Joel's groan of approval blends into your own wanton moans. What was a soft drag of his tongue on your clit quickly turns to the sensitive nub being sucked into his eager mouth, your hips winding and grinding now you can finally relax.

"Fingers. Please. Need your fingers."

It doesn't even sound like you. It's breathier and more pathetic than you think you've ever sounded, but you can't bring yourself to care when suddenly Joel is releasing your clit to slurp on two of his own fingers, before plunging them deep into your empty pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes, like that. Fuck. Joel."

Each orbit of his tongue on your clit sends a new throb directly through your core, clenching down on the digits curling into you, and you're right back to teetering on that edge. You figure you could let yourself fall over it now. It'd be more like collpasing over it in an exhausted heap, but you know it'd be a satisfaction you wouldn't otherwise have got today.

Or you could wait. You could hold yourself back and use his face to tease yourself, to bring yourself back from the brink once, twice, before you take the final running jump right over it.

Your hands have made up your mind for you when you card trembling fingers through his hair and pull him back, forcing his head down into the pillow he'd propped under it not long ago, and stopping your orgasm in its tracks.

One.

Then, when he's licking broad stripes up and down your glistening folds, something takes hold of you and you begin to fuck yourself against his fingers, swiping your pussy against the flat of his tongue as you rock gently back and forth. His tongue, then his nose, grind against your clit with each rock of your hips, and soon your shaking legs can't move yourself any more.

Two.

Whatever running jump you'd hoped for isn't in your hands now. It's not in your control from the moment Joel tucks a third finger into your pussy, so slick and dripping you're certain you'd have no issue taking more if he decided to give them to you. Instead, you're being carried by him, limp and panting in his arms as he throws you mercilessly over the edge, and you let him.

You come with a cry, fists balling in sheets. Your hips rock and cant against his face, twitching uncontrollably as you pulse and gush around his fingers. His tongue is relentless on your clit, circling over and over until you're begging a jumbled garble of words, too weak to lift yourself off of him.

Then, in a last ditch effort, you throw yourself forward, still coming as you finally release yourself off of his face.

It takes your brain a second to reconnect with your body. Even after the aftershocks have subsided, you're still panting and groaning. Or he is. Maybe both of you are.

Both of you are.

Still quivering, you turn to him. His eyes catch yours before you can take in the state of him. They're darker than you've ever seen them, his blown pupils turning his irises almost black. Then, you see the glistening wet on his chin, his plush lips turned plumper, red and swollen from kissing and sucking at you. And, even lower still, you see the movement of his arm, his bicep rocking in a steady movement, his forearm flexing with each jerk of his fist, his cock weeping in his hand.

"Get down here," he growls.

You scramble to turn, limbs clumsy, and flop down against his side, knees tucked awkwardly under you. His free hand grips your ass, kneading and spreading you so he can look at the mess he made of you, while he guides his cock to your mouth with the other.

"C'mon now, ain't gonna take much. That's it. Fuck."

He groans when you swallow him down, almost gagging when you take him too deep too quickly. Your fist curls around the base of him, taking up the space you can't quite reach, and you bob your head, swirling your tongue, unable to keep your moans quiet as you taste him.

No sooner have you started, and he's twitching beneath you, the muscles in his groin flexing to hold back, to hold on.

"Want you to swallow it all," he pants. "Don't want - fuck - you to miss a single drop."

His fingers push back into your tender hole then - the inviting warmth of it obviously too much to resist when it's swaying there right in front of him, and you welcome him back in with a sigh.

"Such a fuckin' mess."

You moan in agreement, sucking his cock deeper into your mouth. You can't see him. You don't need to. You know he's close by the way his balls draw tight and his moans get so desperate, his fingers stilling their slow exploration inside you.

And then, he's spurting into the back of your throat - you bet he has his eyes closed - and you swallow over and over, the salty burst of him barely registering on your tasetbuds as you eagerly swallow everything he has to give.

"Get it all. That's it. Swallow it. Fuck, sweetheart."

You suck and lick until his fingers pull out of you and grip your thigh, too sensitive for you to carry on your gentle licks against his head.

With one last gentle suck, you release him with a pop and flop beside him, smiling dozily to yourself as your hands play against your belly.

Joel lays with you for a moment too, his cock going limp against his belly before he tucks it away and sits up.

"Y'always like this after you fuck yourself?" he asks, and you nod, watching the way he stretches his neck and shoulders. You think you are, anyway. Mostly, you fall straight asleep. It's only on these rare occasions you get to fuck yourself with your fingers and take your time that you ended up smiling and satisfied at a job well done.

"Get up here," he says again a moment later, tugging gently at your limp arm. He could manhandle you - he's done it before, he's plenty strong enough - but he doesn't. Instead he waits patiently until you're on your knees in front of him, almost matching his height where he stands and you kneel.

"What'd'ya say?" he asks, pinching your chin. "Tha..."

"Thank you, Joel," you say, with a roll of your eyes. "But, technically, it's your fault I even needed your help in the first place."

With a quick slap to your ass, he pushes your chin away with his thumb, before dragging your face right back to his. "Alright smartass. C'mere."

Then, he kisses you. Full on the mouth, kisses you.

And, when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip, tasting yourself on the fullness of it, he doesn't object. He meets you in the middle instead, tasting himself on your tongue as you taste yourself on his.

"Always go so fuckin' dopey for kisses," he says with a laugh against your mouth, and you moan an agreement as your head falls back. You're exhausted, right down to the bones, and now the mornings events are catching up with you.

"I do. You don't mind tasting your cum."

Honest too, apparently, and Joel shakes his head.

"S'mine, and I fuckin' put it there. Nice knowin' you taste of me, sweetheart. If it ain't one hole, it oughta be another."

He shrugs his jacket on, and pulls his shoes onto his feet, before he sees himself out. He pats you gently on the ass as he leaves, closing your bedroom door behind himself. You listen out for the front door, and when it slams, you let the fuzzy feeling take hold - your eyes catching sight of his flannel shirt on your dresser right before you're dragged under.

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[lyneira]

♡ may I have your attention, please? ♡

-> how the genshin men would try to impress you

They would try to impress you through..

Strength

Itto, Childe, Wriothesley

Would try to impress you with physical displays of strength and show his battle prowess. He'd do this because 1) he's a show-off (more so Itto and Childe), and 2) he would want to show how capable he is of defending you, and let you know that you won't have to worry about anything while he's around.

Maybe if you're also into fighting, he'll challenge you to a duel. It'd be his sneaky way of getting close and up front with you, hehe. You might even end up impressing him with your own skills 😌

(I see Itto and Childe being the type to try to flex at any given opportunity for you, intending that you'll drool over his muscles LMAO)

Being smooth with his words

Kaeya, Heizou, Lyney

Will try to fluster you and will do so using smooth lines. He'll take special note of what gets a smile out of you, a little laugh from you, and especially a blush from you. Thus, he'll attempt to initiate a conversation and form his words in ways that will have you doing all three the entire time. He hopes he can make you feel some type of way and let you know that YOU make HIM feel some type of way too ;)

Knowledge

Alhaitham, Zhongli, Neuvillette, Dainsleif, Ayato

Similar to the previous category, they'll try to capture your heart in conversation, but they wouldn't even intend to be impressive. They simply have pure interest in you and would love to stimulate both of your minds with a good conversation.

More importantly, he'd be able to gain more knowledge about you and, therefore, feel closer to you. He'd keep track of nearly every single thing you've said, so don't be surprised when he brings up that incredibly tiny detail you briefly mentioned in conversations before. It'll be proof of his attentiveness and deep focus on you because he's so down bad for you

After all, while he may be an expert on many subjects, the subject that he strives to become the greatest expert on is you.

Little gifts

Xiao, Scaramouche, Diluc, Gorou, Albedo

They'd prefer to show that you've caught their interest through little, thoughtful gifts. I see these guys as being a bit on the reserved and quiet side. So instead of using their words to display their affection for you, they'd much rather give you gifts, in hopes that you'll understand how much you mean to them.

Specifcally, for example, I see Albedo giving you pictures he drew of beautiful landscapes that you've both seen on walks together or maybe draw cute little creatures for you to play with

I see Xiao or Gorou giving you flowers that you've mentioned you loved. He just so happened to find them as he was out, scouting the area (he actually looked everywhere for them).

Scaramouche and Diluc would probably give you practical things that he also 'happened to find around'. "I heard you needed this", he'd mutter as he handed you a rare artifact or material that you had been looking for that could have only been found in the most dangerous areas.

And every one of them would absolutely melt inside each time they see your face light up with pure joy when you receive their gift. That expression would be the gift you gave them in return, which is why they ensured to keep giving you these tiny gifts

Jokes

CYNO

A special category for him because I JUST KNOW that he'd try to capture your heart through jokes. You know what they say: "Laughter is the best medicine" (and you're the medicine to his heart). Therefore, he'd spend all day just to come up with the best jokes he can. Although they might not always land, he'd be the happiest guy if he could still receive a small laugh or a smile from you for his efforts or for just how plain silly his joke was. (Please laugh at at least one of them, he's trying his best)

Song

Venti, Kazuha

Another special category for these two!

Venti would probably sing ballads for you to get your attention. He might even compose a ballad about you, and within it, he'd describe your traits with affection, and will subtly confess his own feelings within the lyrics.

Kazuha would play his little leaf flute for you. He'd play the most beautiful melodies he knew. He would try to play anything you liked and would basically be your own personal jukebox. If he didn't know a certain tune you wanted to hear, he'd be glad to learn it from you. Maybe you would hum the tune a bit, and he would try to match the pitches. I personally think he'd love doing making music with you, and the same would go for poems, too. He would adore creating haikus and poems with you, as well as creating them FOR you

Sharing passions

Thoma, Baizhu, Tighnari, Kaveh

If there was anything in common you two loved, he would invest in it for sure, knowing that it captivated both of you. It would be a fun and delightful way of getting to know one another better.

On the other hand, if you two didn't share a common interest, then there was no problem either. He would be delighted to learn more about yours. After all, he'd want to know what makes you happy, and hopefully become another source of happiness for you. And he would be over the moon for you if you asked him the same, asking him to teach you about what he loves. (Which means you have to teach him more about YOU)

He'd want to create a strong bond with you through this and hopes that it'll become something even more eventually.

a/n: apologies for the silly commentary throughout this. I was in a goofy mood while writing, teehee

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. trying to get your cold boyfriend to crack a smile !

tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, suggestive at the end. reader gets called ‘girl, doll (face)’

“you should smile some more,” you comment unexpectedly as the television runs in the background. toji raises an eyebrow, amused yet curious at the way you interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

your sluggish lover looks down at you as you sit up on his lap. his arms loosen up around your waist, though his manly hands don’t leave their favorite spot—your ass. toji gives it a squeeze, huffing at the way you’re blocking his sight with your head, “what ‘re ya on, girl?”

he figures it’s just you trying to strike up a silly little conversation again, for the sake of entertainment. he tilts his head to the side so he could continue watching the show playing on the big screen.

your hands come to cup his face. your palms are actively being prickled by his stubble, the man not having bothered to shave this morning. not that you’re complaining. you love it when toji leaves that stubble on his face. it gives him a more manly look.

“smileeeee,” you exclaim and use both your index fingers to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. his lips are morphed into an awkward, forced smile that makes you frown.

you secretly hoped that toji would go along with your request, but he doesn’t. that same expressionless face stares right back at you. his ‘smile’ instantly disappears the moment you drop your hands to your sides.

the black-haired man runs his fingers up your waist. and arms. he eventually pinches your cheeks for a second, properly positioning your body so he could watch the television in peace. toji places his chin on your shoulder, half lidded eyes lazily following the people on screen.

“i wanna see you smile again, c’mon,” you whine and try to push toji’s head back, but he stubbornly refuses. he easily overpowers you and pins your wrists down against your sides, nearly crushing you in a ‘hug’.

he takes a deep breath and sniffs your perfume. he places a quick kiss on your throat, thinking it’d pacify you for now.

“i would if y’ could make me laugh, doll,” toji answers in a gruff voice. he falls silent again as he’s too focused on the show playing.

you frown at his comment and can’t help but feel slightly offended. you roll your eyes and push back from toji’s tight embrace, if that’s what you can even call it. you pout and cross your arms over your chest. you stare at him, his green eyes glancing back at you for a second.

seeing you get all sulky because of what’s supposed to have been a lighthearted comment, is adorable. though toji doesn’t say that stuff out loud.

“you’re saying i’m not funny?” you ask. it’s more of a rhetorical question. your partner shrugs and yawns, one hand of his sneakily slipping under your shirt. his meaty fingers glide up to your bra, tracing the outline.

it’s another action of his in attempt to distract your mind from this entire conversation. however, it fails as you swat his hand away. toji clicks his tongue and gently swats you back— resulting into a mini fight between the two of you.

your slaps against his biceps may seem hard to you, but to the bulky man they’re child’s play. it feels like nothing, while you’re trying your best to stand up for yourself. toji’s revenge smacks are light taps against your bum and hands.

he’s clearly not putting in any effort unlike you.

“if that’s how you wanna take it, then yeah, y’ ain’t funny,” toji adds fuel to the fire, amused by how upset you’re getting. he doesn’t mean anything he’s saying; he’s simply interested in your adorable reactions. you look cute—thinking you’re doing something to him while you slap his bicep as response to his sneaky remarks.

you huff and roll your eyes. the little unserious tussle between toji and you continues. “bastard,” you answer and stick your tongue out to him. your lover lets out a puff of air through his nose at your weak attempt of insulting him.

he indulges you again.

“what’ddya say there?” toji questions in a low tone. he easily grips your wrists and flips you over until your back hits the soft sofa. your hands are gathered above your head and his face is close to yours.

that doesn’t stop you from being bratty, however, no matter how intimating toji tries to act. his black bangs brush against your forehead due to the proximity between you both.

“bastaaaaaard, you’re an asshole,” you shamelessly continue, your voice echoing in his ear. the black-haired man stares at you with a blank stare for a couple seconds, letting you blow off some steam.

you don’t know how cute you are right now to him. toji could just eat you up right then and there. having his girl try to act fierce around him is such an endearing sight.

without knowing it, toji’s scarred lips curl up, a faint smile appearing on his face. he doesn’t bother moving or setting your hands free.

“heh, right—i am, aye?” your lover nods and places a chaste kiss against your jawline, biting that same place not a second later. he lifts his head up and stares down at you with that same subtle smile.

you’re a bit shocked by the fact that he actually smiled. you love seeing toji show hints of happiness, which he rarely does. but when he smiles, you know it’s going to be a beautiful sight.

and it sure is now.

you’re too caught up staring at his handsome face to realise that that cherished smile has turned into a teasing grin. toji’s free hand slides up to grab your bottom lip, pulling back and letting go to watch it bounce back in place. his warm breath gently hits your cheek and you feel a shiver run down your spine;

“y’know if y’ want to, i can show ya how much of an asshole i really can be, doll face.”

[deusfoundry]

zayne domestic fluff brainrot again except this time, it's you who comes home to him, and he finally gets to pamper and serve you the way you always do for him.

you're greeted by a warm waft of air the moment you open the door. the entire apartment is filled with the smell of your favorite dishes and you know instantly that, for the first time in weeks, zayne is home before you.

you hastily take off your coat and shoes, rushing past your cat sprawled in the middle of the hallway and to the kitchen where you find zayne. he's got an apron loosely tied around his waist. it takes you a second to realize that it's your gift from last week, the one that came in bright baby blue with ruffled, lace edges and an embroidered snowman dead center.

"it reminded me of you!" is what you had said when you handed it to him over dinner.

and he had thanked you with a feathery kiss on your knuckles, "i suppose i look a bit like this snowman, no?”

it still warms your heart, oddly enough, despite the fact that zayne has never been one to turn down any of your gifts, no matter how trivial or silly they were. he still has the keychain you gave him secured on the handle of his bag. the ceramic white kitten you got from your trip out of town five years ago sits comfortably on the desk at his office. one cutout panel from a photo strip of you and your cat is tucked inside an antique heart-shaped locket you found in some thrift store downtown. and there's not a moment where that locket isn't on him, one way or another, hung around his neck or buried in the safety of his pockets during surgery.

he adores you, and by extension every little trinket or piece of clothing you decide to give him.

the moment zayne turns down the heat on the stove is when you decide to make your presence known. you take light, careful steps as you walk towards him.

you wrap your arms around his waist, hands settling over his stomach.

and either he knows you've been lingering near the kitchen for a while or you weren't as sneaky as you thought, because he's not startled with your sudden arrival. he merely hums, as if to acknowledge your presence, before immediately melting against your touch. he takes one of your hands in his, the one that's not holding on to the ladle, and brings it closer to his lips.

"welcome home." he presses a kiss over your palm, absentmindedly tracing the lines with his finger. "dinner's almost ready. you should go and wash up.”

"this is a lot, zayne. thank you." you nuzzle a cheek against his back, trying to bring yourself impossibly closer to him as if you aren't already soul to soul at this very moment. "can't i at least set the table? wanna help you.”

"don't worry about it, my love." zayne turns down the stove completely. he faces you for the first time this evening, and you try not to be taken aback at how he looks at you. a bright gaze that makes him look like he’s in a trance as he’s staring at you. his eyes track the few strands of hair that manage to escape from behind your ear. he’s quick to move them out of the way. from there, his hand naturally gravitates towards your cheek where his thumb drags across smooth skin. he digs into the flesh with little pressure. "let me take care of you tonight.”

"if you insist.”

you can't help but laugh at how he sends you off. he’s ushering you to go to your shared bedroom, to get out of the clothes you’ve spent your entire day in and freshen up, but his hand stays firmly clasped around yours. it takes a few weak tugs and a lot of coaxing, of dragging out his name and using every possible pet name that comes to your mind for him to finally let you go.

when you return to your dining area after a quick shower, half of the lights are turned off. there's a set of three candles in the middle of the table lined with the placemats you only ever bring out when your parents are visiting.

zayne notices your arrival as he’s in the middle of placing two bowls of soup near your plates. he pulls out your chair, revealing the small bouquet of red chrysanthemums resting on it.

“for you.”

you’re briefly surprised as you take the flowers in your hands. he moves closer until his palm finds the small of your back.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd say you're planning on popping the question tonight.” you tease.

zayne tries to hide the pink dusting his cheeks by looking the other way. “can’t a man spoil his beloved?”

“oh, of course he can.” you reach for his face, taking his jaw by your hand. gently and with little resistance, you turn his face towards yours. “and his beloved couldn’t be more grateful. really, zayne, you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“i got off work early. when you told me you were working overtime, i thought it was the least i can do.”

“then let’s not keep the food waiting.” you smile.

you and zayne eat in an almost complete absence of silence as you urge him to talk about his day. and you find that it was pretty uneventful for the most part, except for the little girl he met in the hospital’s cafeteria.

“her name's mika.” he says between sips of red wine. “she’s six and she owns a cat who's three years older than her.”

you hum, motioning for him to continue.

“i met her little brother too. his name's louis, but he doesn't like being called that because it sounds too much like the name of the girl he apparently hates in school.”

“wow,” you breathe, “look at you, doctor zayne. akso hospital’s world-renowned chief cardiac surgeon and speaker to all toddlers.”

he lets out a low laugh, “i gave them some of the macarons you baked.”

“that’s adorable! did they like it?”

"when they asked who made them, i said they were baked by someone i hold near to my heart." zayne nods as he wipes the edge of lips with a napkin. "they said i should make sure to give that person lots of love."

"oh?" you lean forward, reaching across the table and past the plates of food to find his hand. "i think they might be right, doctor zayne."

zayne chuckles, choosing to indulge you. “i think so too.”

“meet me in the bedroom after i clean up?” he stands up, moving to stack the empty plates on top of each other. but you decide to beat him to it, swiftly taking the plates in your hand and out of his reach.

"leave this to me, love."

zayne frowns. there’s a slight crease on his forehead as he tries—but ultimately fails to protest. “but-”

“no buts. you’ve done enough for me tonight.”

but if there’s one thing about zayne that drives you mad, it’s that he knows when to use your weaknesses against you. he knows which parts of your bare skin to touch, what to say, how to say it. he knows that his hand sitting dangerously low on your back makes it hard for you to think of anything else. he knows that him leaning down to speak directly to your ear, hot breath fanning across cold skin, is enough to cloud your judgement.

“how about we do it together, then?”

bastard.

“fine…” you relent, knees feeling a little weak.

you two work in the kitchen like a perfectly well-oiled machine for the next half hour. he transfers all the leftovers into containers you plan on reheating over the week while you begin to scrub the plates clean.

"perhaps i did make too much…" he remarks at one point. it pulls a laugh out of you, and you bring your soap-covered hand to poke him in the cheek.

"cute." you mutter under your breath.

as the moon draws closer to its peak, you find yourself tucked in zayne’s arms, hiding under the sheets. the silk adds a layer of privacy, an added solace to the already peaceful four walls of your bedroom. and as you drift further into the land of your dreams, you think there's nothing else that could possibly be better than spending the rest of your life with zayne.

and maybe he has been sitting on the question for a while now. maybe he does have a tiny box tucked at the very back of his drawer, just waiting for the right moment to be worn on your ring finger.

[alg3a]

hellooo your smuts brought me back from the grave and if you’re taking any requests, i would love to see your take on a jayce x fem reader. i kind of want to see a shy student scenario with a pervy student jayce 😩 omg pls tell me you see the vision lol!

hello! YESSS i definitely see the vision, i hope i executed it alright! thank you so much for this request. i was sort of worried at first because i don’t typically write for jayce alone—normally i just write jayvik or viktor—but this was SOOOO much fun! probably actually my favorite of the three fics i have so far. hope you enjoy!

staring

pervy!jayce x innocent!f!reader

3.9k, MDNI, no use of y/n

description: After setting eyes on the handsome boy in your lecture, and staring at him every class after that, you find out that your father has sponsored his research and invited him to dinner. After a particularly frustrating meal, you run upstairs to your room, not expecting him to follow you.

warnings: nsfw, fem receiving oral, pervy jayce, innocent/inexperienced reader, sneaky sex, equal bits plot and porn i think, jayce covers readers mouth, creampie, hooray!

a/n: this is my first ever request! i hope i did it some justice. if you like it, feel free to send your own request! i don’t have guidelines yet, but chances are i’ll writer whatever you suggest.

The first time you saw him was across the circular lecture hall and you were quickly drawn in, fixated on every tiny movement of his. You didn’t even notice that you were staring until you realized he caught you. It was near impossible not to look at him, with his wide ambitious eyes and even wider shoulders, he was a difficult sight to steer away from. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing when he noticed your lingering gaze.

The position he caught you in was so juvenile and schoolgirl-esque that it seemed only fitting for a bright pink blush to span your face. You had a palm against your cheek, your head slightly tilted, and your bottom lip was caught between your front teeth. Your right leg crossed your leg and the suspended foot swung in tiny little distracted circles below your desk.

When his eyes landed on yours, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. Not out of anger, more like he was trying to focus his gaze on you to see whether or not you were really staring at him. Then a little smile crept onto his lips around the same time you had realized that he had caught you and you instantly averted your gaze. You tried not to look at him again during lecture, but whenever the professor in the center of the circular lecture hall crossed in front of him, your eyes stayed behind and you allowed yourself a glance in his direction.

You wondered how you hadn’t noticed him before. Perhaps this was the first time he sat in that spot so far this semester. If that was the case, it certainly wasn’t the last time he sat there. For the next few weeks, he was amongst the first students to arrive in lecture and always made sure to secure that exact same seat, not one to the left, right, or above. You’d never seen anybody be so particular about a seat in lecture before. Not even you, who had a penchant for patterns and regulation.

Each passing class only stoked your burning obsession with this boy, whose name you didn’t even know. It got so bad that you had difficulty paying attention in class some days, which was totally unlike you. You were a perfect student, always dedicated and responsible in school, so why now? Why this one pretty boy in one silly lecture?

Your father wasn’t happy when you let him know you received a C on your midterm.

You came from an upper house in Piltover and you were your parents’ only daughter. There was an absurd amount of pressure on you to uphold the standards so eloquently listed by your older siblings and your parents.

“How will it affect your class grade?” Your mother asks sensibly, her voice low and polite and she sets out her favorite dishes from the china cabinet.

“Well, it’s not good,” you begin to say, ready to explain how what really matters is your final project and the final assessment, how they’re weighted more heavily, but your father interrupts.

“Not good?” He chortles, spread out in his armchair the room over. “Abhorrent is more like it!”

“Dad,” you begin to plead, but you are once again interrupted.

“Enough! I’ll look into a tutor and you will spend your time studying and asking your professor for extra credit.”

You hated when he did this. You weren’t a kid anymore, if you wanted a tutor you’d ask a classmate or a TA, and you had read your syllabus enough to know that your professor didn’t afford extra credit to his students. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself in school…or at least that’s what you thought. After all, if a silly crush on a stranger in lecture was enough to tank your grades, were you really all that capable?

You could’ve argued with your dad, but decided against it. It was almost time for dinner and you didn’t want to ruin your appetite with a fight.

“Go get dressed, dear, we’re having a guest for dinner tonight,” your mother said, changing the tone of the conversation.

“Who?” You asked, realizing that she was taking the good china out for a reason.

“One of the students that your father has decided to sponsor.”

Oh, that’s right. The academy just had their Innovation Gala, in which the young inventors of Piltover are given the opportunity to wow rich folks with their ideas in hopes of receiving some funding. Your father had been extending his fortune to students since you were very young. He saw them more as business opportunities than as students.

“Well, who are they?”

“A bright young man,” your father said, his mood instantly lightening. “Lots of promise. A grade or two above you, I believe.”

You think of the inventors you’ve met at the academy as you go upstairs to your bedroom to change, wondering who the guest will be.

You slip into a knee-length powder blue dress and a soft white sweater. You’re brushing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring from downstairs. Muffled exchanges between your parents and the mystery guest pass through your closed bedroom door. You’re applying your lipgloss and staring into your vanity when your mind begins to wander. You can’t get your mind off of the boy from lecture. Would he like this shade of lipgloss? Would he like your dress, your sweater, your shoes, your hair…

Your father shouts your name from downstairs. “Come down, it’s time for dinner!”

You sheath your lipgloss and straighten out your dress before heading downstairs. You're halfway down the spiral staircase before you can see tonight’s guest, and when you do, you aren’t sure you have enough strength in your legs to keep walking down.

He calls your name again, this time wearing a smile on his mouth. Your father had a tendency to turn into a jovial old man when around people that weren’t you or your family.

“Come, meet Jayce,” he says, his arm wrapped around the boy from your lecture.

You only realize how hard you're gripping the railing once you reach the bottom of the stairs. You force a polite smile past your agape expression and walk toward your father and the boy. Your father is by no means a short man, but the boy towers over him. It’s impossible not to pay attention to how his dress shirt clings to his chest, or how the collar wraps neatly around his strong neck, leaving a glimpse of his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you hold out your hand and he takes it, gingerly. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly as his eyes remain on yours.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, shooting a flaming arrow straight through your thudding heart. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but we have a class together, don’t we?”

Wonderful. Not only would you have to play polite with this handsome stranger, you’d have to endure the rest of the night knowing he’d caught you staring at him with bright doe eyes in the middle of class. How ironic that the boy responsible for your sinking grades would be seated beside your father tonight at dinner.

“Oh, I think you’re right,” you smile, eyes widening in feigned surprise. “Applied physics?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” he says, finally releasing your hand just as it’s about to get clammy from your excitement and anxiety. He claps your father on the back. “Your daughter is a marvel in that class, really. She’s constantly answering questions and asking even more insightful ones.”

A lie? Why?

“Is that so?” Your father asks, seemingly forgetting his prior rage at your subpar grade.

Jayce nods as your father leads you all to the dining room, where your two older brothers are already sitting. Your father takes his seat at the head of the table, your mother at the opposite end. You sit between him and Jayce, across from your brothers.

For a while, Jayce spends some time introducing himself to the two boys across from you, entertaining their small talk and questions about whatever invention sparked our father’s interest at the gala. You couldn’t focus much on the details, too distracted by the fact that your lecture crush was seated beside you in your own home, at the dinner table you’ve been eating at for twenty years. He spoke so eloquently, so politely that you thought for a second that he might have overlooked your embarrassing moment in lecture so many days ago. Perhaps it hadn’t lived in his head the same way it had haunted you.

The maids brought out the food and you began to eat. You sipped on champagne and did your best to avert your gaze from Jayce, but he got in the way of that attempt.

“So tell me,” he said, turning his attention to you, “how do you like physics?”

How did you like physics? What sort of a question was that?

“It’s a good class,” you say, simply. “I like the professor’s lecture style, it’s very…personal. I detest professors who just read from the notes and expect it to resonate.”

“Right, I’ve noticed how closely you pay attention in that class.”

It takes every ounce of self-collection you have not to choke on your champagne. Was he teasing you? Was that his way of secretly calling you out for ogling at him for every minute of the hour-long lecture?

No, you must be paranoid. Maybe he really meant it, after all he had already oversold your attentiveness in that class once tonight.

“Yes, right.”

“Truly,” he says, and you risk looking over at him beside you. “You look so enamored. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were daydreaming…lost in fantasies.”

You set your glass down with a slam.

“Mind your manners, darling,” your mother says as you collect your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you say shakily, dabbing at the splattered drink on the tablecloth with your napkin.

You hurry to finish your meal as your father changes the subject, discussing some stupid business matter of his. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart in its cage. Once your dish is empty, you set your utensils down and look pointedly at your father.

“May I be excused?”

“Sweetheart, don’t be rude,” he says, his eyebrows straightening into a firm line. “We have a guest.”

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that…I have an assignment to work on and I really don’t want my grades to slip any further.” You lie, avoiding Jayce’s eyes, although you feel them boring into the back of your head as you look at your father.

“Very well,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “You may be excused.”

You slam your napkin on the table and walk hurriedly up the stairs. You shut your door with a slam louder than you meant, but you can’t concern yourself with that now. You lay face down in your four-post bed and throw the sweater off of your arms before screaming into a pillow.

Cruel! He was just being cruel. If your staring in class hadn’t made your crush obvious, surely your behavior tonight had sold you out. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You groan out into the pillow before a slight creak of your door snaps you out of your fit.

You turn over, expecting to see your father and already thinking of ways to explain your current exasperated position, but it’s not him.

“What are you doing in my room?” You ask, coming to a seated position with your legs bent ever so slightly atop your ivory comforter.

“You mean, this isn’t the restroom?” Jayce asks, a small smirk on his mouth as he walks slowly toward you like a predator about to pounce. “I guess I didn’t follow your mother’s directions very well.”

“What are you doing?” You ask again.

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “Cute room.” He looks around for a moment before his gaze falls back on you, lying so delicately on your bed, just waiting… “Pretty close to what I imagined.”

“What you imagined?” You repeat, seemingly only able to ask questions right now.

“Mhm,” he says, finally reaching the edge of your bed. He stands over you, looming like a tower, preventing any light from reaching you. “Can you blame me? I’ve seen how you look at me during lectures.” He pauses to laugh. “You’d think I was the one lecturing the way you stare, and stare, and stare…”

“That’s not–” you try to defend yourself, but you can’t. You have no reason, no explanation, no excuse. No words.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his smile widening. “It’s cute. The way you cross and uncross your legs when I catch you looking. Oh but before that, when you’re resting your cheek on your hand and tilting your pretty little head… that’s the best.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and part of you thinks he actually might be. But the other part…

“Tell me,” he says, his knee resting on the edge of the bed, positioned for him to climb onto it if only you would just give the word. “What do you think about when you’re staring at me?”

“Jayce…” you mutter breathlessly, unsure whether or not you should say.

He leans over your sprawled out body and puts a delicate finger beneath your chin.

“You can tell me,” he smiles, his eyes betraying his true desire. “Chances are, I’ve had the same ideas.”

“I’ve,” you utter, barely able to get the words out as he pushes your head up ever so slightly, forcing you to make clearer eye contact with him. “I’ve thought about…”

Thinking those thoughts is one thing, but saying them out loud is completely different. It’s impossible.

“Use your words, honey,” he says, stroking your bottom lips with the calloused pad of his thumb, as if he were trying to coax the dirty words out.

“About laying on your table…in the empty lecture hall…”

“And?”

“And you’d…” you sigh, exasperated. Somehow trying to utter this sentence took more out of you than running a mile would. “You’d have your head…between my thighs.”

“Would I be tasting you, sweetheart?” He asks, a grin spreading across his face, revealing sharp canines. A new thought crept into your mind. What would those teeth feel like dragging your panties off? What would they feel like biting your thigh, or your neck?

“Yes,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own admission, although he pried it from your pretty, glossy pink lips. “Yes you’d be tasting me…”

“Attagirl,” he says, removing his hand from your chin and his knee from your bed.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’s going to do. Would he take this admission and run out of your room with it? Would he tell your parents? Would he tell his friends? Would you go to school the next day, the laughing stock of the academy?

He drops to his knees.

Your breath halts as his hands land on your knees, his eyes gazing up at you over the crest of the side of your mattress. His calloused palms rub the soft skin of your thighs, upward bound.

“Jayce?” You ask, knots in your stomach.

“I was right,” he says, the path his hands taking never ceasing. “We have had the same idea.”

He pushes up the fabric of your powder blue dress, pulling you slightly off of the bed so that his lips can find the inside of your thighs. He leaves soft kisses along them.

You watch as his hungry amber eyes flicker up, landing on your soft pink panties.

“Fuck,” he mutters against the plush skin of your thigh.

He pushes your thighs apart and pulls you closer by your hips. His nose presses against the wet spot on your panties and he takes a deep, slow breath. You watch as his eyes flicker shut, relishing the scent of you so close to him. The sight only makes you wetter.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he groans. He flicks his tongue out and licks the fabric of your panties, leaving a damp spot. You twitch against the wet sensation, your thighs closing a bit but his hands are faster. He holds them down as he continues to tease you through the fabric.

“Jayce…” you begin to start your reprimand, ready to tell him to stop teasing you and just dive in, to eat you out like he’s starving, but you can’t utter any word other than, “please.”

“Please what, baby?” He asks, looking up with that wicked grin of his. “Use your words, remember?”

“Please…please taste me…”

You feel utterly deprecated just saying such dirty things to a man you only just officially met, but if the fantasies in your head were worth anything, you two were intimately acquainted by now. And to Jayce…well those fantasies seemed to be worth a lot.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, his hands sliding up your thighs to pull down the fabric separating his tongue from your pleasure. He’s quick to push your thighs back down again, regaining his control of your trembling body.

He makes sure he’s watching you when he administers his first slow, tantalizing lick. His eyes are hooded and hungry, and his hunger translates well.

“Oh my god…” you whimper as he tastes you.

He picks up speed, his tongue slicing through your folds and spending lots of time at your quivering clit. He licks and sucks and slobbers like he hasn’t had a meal in years, which you know to not be true. Such an appetite.

“Jayce,” you whimper, pleading, begging, but for what you do not know.

He moans against your clit as you say his name, the precious sound of your debased voice striking a delicate chord within him. The vibration of his moan against your core makes your back arch, and his eyes dart back up to you, to watch you suffer under his pleasure.

“I think–I think I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly as your hands grab at the sheets above your head. You look so pretty, stretched out and suspended like that, your arms hanging above your head and your legs thrown out on either side of Jayce’s blur of dark hair and sharp features.

“Let it out, sweetheart,” Jayce muffles against you, his assault on your quivering clit not letting up one bit. “Let me hear it.”

You whine and squeal and thrash against his face, his hands squeezing hard to keep your thighs down so he can continue his job. You reach for his hair, just to have something solid to grab onto in your ecstasy, and he moans at the rough tug, the vibrations topping off your climax as your arched back grounds itself against your sheets again, descending alongside you.

He’s still hungry, and he hardly allows you any time to recover from your first orgasm, something you didn’t experience very often, especially not from the mouth of a man. Already, he’s climbing atop you, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to reveal his long, fully hardened cock. You reach out with unsteady fingers to unbutton his fancy dress shirt, admiring the way it’s already gathered wrinkles from his rowdy behavior between your legs.

Now you’re equally dishevelled. Your lip gloss has been rubbed off by your hungry bites at your lip and his mouth shines with your arousal and his own spit. Your dress is polled up over your hips and his own shirt barely clings to his arms in its unbuttoned state. Your hair pools out beneath you and his still bears the marks of your tugging.

It’s heaven for Jayce to see you like this. He’s spent weeks admiring the prim and proper put together little rich girl across the lecture hall, imagining what she would look like fucked out beneath him, screaming his name and abandoning all manners. He wants to ruin you, and he will.

His lips crash against yours, your arousal and his spit providing you with new lip gloss. His tongue betrays his hunger, crashing against yours, pushing it aside as he explores each corner of your little mouth. All the while, his hands are creeping up your soft stomach and resting on your breasts beneath his heavy, muscled torso.

“Jayce, I want you…I want you inside me,” you mutter, gaining some boldness at the sight of his craving.

He doesn’t even have the strength to muster a reply. He intends on saving all of his energy for destroying your cute little cunt. He grabs his cock, pumping it a few times to spill out the precum resting on his tip. He aligns it with your tight entrance and spreads your arousal over it to provide aid in jamming it into you.

“Fuck!” You shout into his broad shoulder. “Oh fuck!”

He didn’t expect such naughty words to rip from your innocent little throat, but he delights in your reaction to him stretching you.

He rocks his hips in and out of you, slowly at first, but even he can’t hold himself back just for the sake of torturing you. He ruts into you, pathetic, needy. His body presses down onto you, your chest smushed against his as he leans on his forearm beside your head. He groans out at each desperate thrust into your tight cunt.

You’re no better. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever closer and deeper into you. Each kiss of his tip to your cervix elicits a loud whine from you, echoing through your room. Your ornate decorations and pristine shelves now act as a shallow veneer. You’re not so clean anymore. Not so innocent.

“Oh Jayce,” you moan breathily. “Just like that! Oh fuck!”

You’re a mess beneath him, muttering slutty little words that rise and fall in volume as his thrusts punctuate them. Jayce is so lost in pleasure that it takes him a minute to realize that your volume has become an issue.

He brings a hand over your mouth, the other arm still acting as support as he rests on his forearm. You taste the salt of his skin on his palm as he presses it to your soft lips.

“You make such pretty noises for me,” Jayce says softly, a groan interrupting his syllables every so often. “And you sound so good but you gotta be quiet, baby.”

Despite his words, his thrusts don’t soften and his grip on your mouth remains. Your moans continue, quietly, muffled against his strong hand. To prevent himself from moaning too loud, he bites down on your shoulder. Hard. It’s enough to send you over the edge, the pain rippling through your skin and down to your core.

You can tell he’s close too, by the way his bite hardens and his hips jut mercilessly into you. Your legs begin to tremble and you tilt your head back, your back arching off of the bed to press even closer against his chest.

He replaces his hand with his mouth, which does an equally good job of shutting you up. With a final rut of his hips into your cunt, he stifles a groan against your lips and you feel yourself filling with his seed. Your muscles relax, your toes uncurling and your chest resuming its breathing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his head leading the fall onto the bed beside you. His hand wraps around your waist and he administers a final kiss to your forehead. “That was…”

“Just how you imagined it?”

“Better.”

[hoshifighting]

i enjoy your work so much!!! i love reading new posts whenever you update (which is so frequent and im always in awe of how creative your brain is!!) im wondering if you had similar work to your most recent reaction but with mommy issues instead? giving a tight hug to all my peeps struggling through parental relationships ❤️‍🩹

seventeen x reader with mommy issues

a/n: thank you anon 🥺🥺❤️ i hope you like it, and > giving a tight hug to all my peeps struggling through parental relationships pt.2

WARNINGS: mommy issues, svt mostly doing girly things with you.

seungcheol: cheol’s the type to instinctively take a nurturing role without even realizing it. he’ll remind you to eat, help you pick out clothes for the day, and even braid your hair if you let him. “does this look okay?” he asks, tongue sticking out in concentration as his big hands fumble a little. he’s all about making sure you feel cared for in every little way, even if it’s just holding you close while you vent.

jeonghan: knows how to fill that space without making it obvious. he’s the one who’ll ask his sister to help him paint your nails, gossip about random shit, or let you borrow his skincare products. “c’mere, let me do it for you,” he says, gently dabbing serum on your face while teasing you about how bad you are at self-care. it’s his sneaky way of saying, i’m here for you.

joshua: takes on that classic comforting role, always making sure you feel heard.he’ll offer to bake cookies with you or even sew something small together. “it’s okay to miss her,” he’ll say softly, holding your hand. “but you’ve got people now who care about you, including me.”

junhui: create those bonding moments you might’ve missed out on. he’s the type to grab your hand and drag you into the kitchen, insisting you bake something together even if it’s a disaster. “this is supposed to be fun, not perfect babe...” he laughs as flour gets everywhere. he doesn’t try to replace anything, but he makes you feel like you’re not missing out anymore.

hoshi: his appproach is so wholesome it hurts. he’s the kind to pull you into his lap while he combs through your hair, humming softly. “you deserve to feel spoiled,” he says with a grin, and suddenly he’s dragging you to the mall for a mini shopping spree. “pick something cute, okay? you can’t say no—it’s my treat.”

woozi: his way of comforting you is subtle but so meaningful. he won’t push you to talk, but when you’re struggling, he’ll sit you down and quietly braid your hair or make tea for you. “you don’t have to do this alone,” he’ll say in his soft, no-nonsense voice. sometimes it’s just the quiet, supportive presence that heals the most.

wonwoo: he’ll read to you, help you organize your space, or even teach you how to do things like fixing a hem or arranging flowers. “this is kinda relaxing, isn’t it?” he says as you both work together, his calm energy making you feel safe and understood.

minghao: would suggest journaling together, so you can focus more on yourself, than focus on the house problems. “it’s okay to feel like this,” he says, squeezing your hand. “but you’re more than what you’re missing.” he makes sure you feel strong enough to rebuild those pieces.

mingyu: mingyu goes all in on being your cheerleader. he’s the one who’ll sit on the floor with you to do DIY face masks or giggle with you over silly videos. “do you want me to call my sister?... don't really know what a cut-crease is...” he says with a goofy grin, trying his best to make you feel loved and cared for in every way he can.

seokmin: he s exactly what you need when the weight of everything feels heavy. he’ll pull you into the kitchen to teach you his favorite recipes, or he’ll sit down with you to sew a button back on your shirt. “see? you’re already amazing at this!” he beams, making you feel proud of yourself for even the smallest things.

seungkwan: ultimate comforter. he’ll organize a mini self-care day, complete with snacks, facials, and trashy TV. “no one’s judging you here,” he says, rubbing your back as you tear up. his endless affirmations—you’re doing amazing, you deserve love, you’re enough—are exactly what you need to hear.

vernon: he’ll suggest stuff like planting a little herb garden together or decorating a space to make it yours. “babe I think I planted my ring...” he says, looking at the plant pot that will be all messy in seconds just to find the piece of silver.

chan: he’s the guy who’ll offer to watch cheesy movies with you, paint your nails (even if he sucks at it), or teach you a new dance—and stumbling on his own feet on purpose—just to make you smile. “you deserve to feel cared for.”

[seelestia]

conclusion: aventurine likes being the only thing on your mind (to which he, in fact, is).

1.1k wc. established relationship, cringy fluff x10000 pls have mercy. petty & jealous aven says hi (ft. his beef w/ an inanimate object, help). a drabble hastily strewn together to celebrate my birthday on oct 13th! ‹3 as u can see, this silly guy is still in my head 🙏

aventurine likes to think that he is a man with sharp eyes. it makes perfect sense because if not, why else would he find sneakiness—or rather, attempts at it—to be so endearing?

all the more so, considering how you've been glancing at the display case behind him for a while now.

thrice, four times, five times. the way you try to catch more glimpses of it eventually grows from tentative to curious. he wonders if you caught on that he's been keeping track of this very top secret, very well-hidden agenda of yours – but as your eyes wander from his face for the nth time, he guesses not.

are the story he's recounting and the cup of sundae you're sharing with him not riveting enough? to have your attention be so easily stolen by whatever thing in whatever shop behind him. . . the mere thought is enough to form some kind of pull at the corners of his lips. it's insistent, it's going downward, and it's costing him some significant ounces of self-control not to pout.

(do you think the pendant is prettier to look at than him? hm, he's feeling neglected.)

but playing the fool is getting boring; finally, aventurine decides it's time to shed his veil of ignorance and lets his acknowledgement of your actions be known within the form of a jovial question.

“does it strike your fancy?” he asks, scooping a spoonful of melting sundae to his lips with a lack of enthusiasm. it tastes good—would taste better if he had your full attention and if you were the one feeding him—but alas, he digresses.

you blink, taken aback. no doubt it's at the fact you're caught red-handed. adorable, he thinks to himself. “it looks pretty,” you reply with a sheepish smile, the awe in your voice doing very little effort to conceal itself. so adorable, his mind chimes in again.

(aventurine still thinks there are better sights out there, though. like you in his eyes and him in yours, for example.)

he notices the vague hint of affection in your tone and suddenly, his interest is piqued to its limit. you rarely use that tone unless it's directed at him. when the frivolous merchant turns around to have a look for himself, his motions are oddly quick and swift – definitely not fueled by a sense of rivalry or anything of that sort. absolutely not.

in any case, he still takes in the sight of the accessory with professionalism. in the wide cosmos, aventurine has come across many of its kind that he either bought for his own collection at the cost of a pretty penny or won in a gamble at the cost of his life. your fascination with it is justified, he'd say, take it from the perspective of an avid collector.

a quaint design, smooth surface, intricate carvings, reasonable price (he doesn't mind the jaw-dropping amount of zeros), and from a make he's heard of before. . . but he'll stop at that because if he says more, he'd surely lose his appetite and the sundae still has a few more spoonfuls left.

(whatever, he's still feeling vengeful towards that thing.)

ironically, though, aventurine's eyes are the ones who wander this time as they flit from your profile to the display. back and forth, a few times in succession. you tilt your head in confusion – but all he requires is only several seconds of your time to accurately visualize the pendant adorning your features. luckily for him, your face is such a familiar sight in his memory that the vision forms itself quite effortlessly.

and when aventurine finally takes a moment to admire the finished image in his head, he smiles contentedly. who wouldn't, at the face of a beauty like yours?

“mhm,” he says dotingly, evidently satisfied at the conclusion he arrives at. “it'll look good on you.”

it's not difficult to predict what comes next when he starts reaching for the card in his pocket – or so, he thought as the sound of your laughter stops him dead. yes, you're laughing, so heartily to the point that your shoulders shake a little.

aventurine expects a demure shake of the head or a weary sigh as he eagerly offers to spend credits for you, yet again. it's common knowledge that he favors spoiling you with his riches: because he likes pretty things and he likes you, thus it's understandable why he likes you in pretty things. but this? he isn't expecting this.

of course, the sight of your expressing mirth at the silliest of things has always been kept framed in his mind but as happy as he is to see it, it still doesn't change the perplexed state he is left in. what, does he have sundae smeared on his face or something?

“thanks, but—” you giggle, a familiar melody that flows like silk to his ears. “i was thinking about how it'd suit you, silly.”

a moment of silence, just enough to let the realization sink in.

“. . .me?” the slight disbelief in aventurine's voice is unmistakable.

“yeah,” you nod with a hum, “the color really brings out your eyes.”

(and his pathetic heart skips a beat.)

oh, how a poor man's world could be flipped upside down with just a sentence. the said man dramatically places a hand over his face as if to shield himself from the light radiating off your very being. “how disappointing. i've fallen right into your trap,” he relents with a long sigh so exaggeratedly that you have to stifle a chuckle at his reaction.

he's smiling so widely, though, so is he truly disappointed? and to that, aventurine will confidently say: no, there is no reason to be disappointed when he has been the one occupying your thoughts all along.

(so, the bad blood with that pendant was for nothing, after all.)

“you're so mean to me sometimes,” he pouts, it's his right to do so after being tricked. “will you forgive me then?” you smile, then he melts just like that in the snap of a finger.

“i can never say no to that,” aventurine sighs in defeat, leaning in for a kiss to soothe his non-existent wounds. it's not like you want to say no to him either.

“wait—” you place a hand on his chest and he makes a questioning noise that sounds akin to a whiny huff. then, a gentle sensation as your thumb brushes against a certain spot on his cheek. “you got sundae on your face,” you chuckle, failing horribly at trying to hold in your laugh all over again.

darn it.

“c'mere—”

all kinds of self-restraint and public image be damned, aventurine immediately closes the distance without further delay – and when his lips meet yours, nothing else matters.

yes, not even the sundae that has melted into sugary soup by now.

[ ☆ THANK YOU FOR READING! © seelestia on tumblr, oct 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own. ]

[cherubfae]

𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 || {𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢}

tags: fluff, shy!gn!reader, ftm!reader for Angel 💕 crushing/mutual pining, pre-established relationships, blitz's relationship/intimacy issues (but we gonna get that healthy growth we need), striker's is a bit suggestive!

Alastor

You weren't sure the barrier of touching Alastor would ever be something that would be crossed and you told yourself that you didn't mind. You chose to revel in the moments of when he sought out affections and physical closeness be it dancing or if he suddenly tugs you in to tell you something. Alastor is not very privy to other people's space and Heaven forbid someone enter his without permission. Quite the contradiction.

Now, if he notices you're purposely not trying to give him any sort of touch or affection, he will get rather annoyed. You, darling, are the only one who he doesn't mind touching him. Has he expressed this? No. Will he? Maybe. Did he expect you to be able to read his mind? Quite possibly.

Alastor hoped to have made a smoother transition rather than just outright grasping your hand. Even he seemed surprised by his own action, static feedback chirping from him. His ears flick and the slightest sliver of a blush creeps from beneath his suit collar.

"I don't mind if it's you, dearest. I... I don't detest your touch as much as the others." Alastor clears his throat, his large hand briefly covers your smaller one. Giving your hand a little squeeze, he stands abruptly and disappears into shadow and darkness.

You'd never seen Alastor embarrassed before. How cute.

Lucifer

He's a pretty affectionate guy, especially once he's comfortable around you! His heart warms as you mindlessly play with your fingers, eyes looking everywhere but at him. The more you feel his stare, the more the blush darkens on your face.

"Take it easy there, sweetling," Lucifer's soft tone eases your senses. Pressing a light kiss to your forehead, he pulls back. He offers his hand, palm upwards, giving you time to back away. His gentle smile deepens when you slip your hand in his, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. Tugging you to his side gently, your shoulders brushing, you continue on the sidewalk towards Hell's finest local café.

Husk

While not one for PDA, Husk doesn't mind affection behind closed doors. Preferably out of sight of anyone who may mock and tease him for it.

He didn't however expect you to be sitting on his bed, thumbs lightly pressing into the center of his paw watching his claws go from being exposed and then retracting thanks to your gentle manipulations. He snorts lightly, as silly as you were, he couldn't be mad at your fascination.

"You're lucky you're cute, hun. If you were anyone else I may not be as nice as I am with ya." Husk smirks. Maintaining complete eye contact, you raise his paw to your lips and give it a soft kiss, grinning as Husk jolts with a huffy mrow. "Sneaky brat," he sighs, falling back on his bed with an arm over his eyes.

Angel Dust

You want to hold his hand? Which one, babe? He's got six! :) Angel is understanding of your shy nature, though he hopes you'll be able to be more bold with him in the future. He won't pressure you, of course, but he wants you to know that you can trust him. That he is capable of taking things slow.

"Is this okay?" Angel asks, softly grasping your hand in his gloved one. When you make no move to pull from his touch, a happy wobbly smile wiggles onto his face. He lightly leans his cheek against the top of your head, a brief sign of his affection. He can snuggle you more later, but for now, he wants to enjoy the day with his favorite person.♡

Vox

Intimacy of any sorts isn't foreign to him, but he's not used to someone so good, so pure. And he's certainly not used to that innocent attention being directed at him. Any time you touch him, even if you only accidentally brushed past him, it leaves him buzzing. Craving for something more. He wants your sweet smile to be directed at him and him alone. It takes everything in Vox not to scream when you give his hand a small squeeze only to pull back, muttering apologies. Soon, he's reaching for you again, taking your hand in his.

"I didn't say that I hated it." Vox whispered in an uncharacteristically soft way. His eyes flicker up to your face, then back to see where his hand has dwarfed yours. With his free hand falling to your hip, lightly stroking circles there, he pulls you to stand between his legs. Your other arm slides to rest on his shoulder as his clawed hand curls around the back of your knee. Intimate but not forceful. There's no aggression in his movements. Lifting your head towards him, even with Vox sitting down, he's much taller than you. His eyes hold a silent question, one that you answer with that smile he loves so much and a nod, and his lips press to yours with your hands still joined.

Blitzø

Romantic gestures are a big deal for him. Big in the way that he struggles with them, but that he doesn't want it to be something that holds him back. He really doesn't. Familial and platonic he understands, but Blitz is pretty damned confused with the fact that you want to even be near someone like him. He doesn't want to inadvertently hurt you by acting how he does. He doesn't wanna fuck up, but goddammit, he really does want to be near you. He wants to be able to give you everything you could need and more, he just doesn't know how. How to unfuck himself.

"Sl-slow," Blitz's voice betrays him with a crack and he swallows thickly, taking your hand in his. Ever grateful that you're the ones in I.M.P right now. This is different. Intimate. He's shaky, palms sweaty. His brain feels foggy and it's suddenly hotter than normal. He feels dizzy and like the floor may break beneath his feet and swallow him whole. The second you start to withdraw, he's tugging you back to him with a soft, raspy, "No." This is progress. Progress is good.

Facing him now, your other hand slides up to his. Both your palms are pressed together. Blitz keeps his gaze on the floor, unable to help how fidgety he feels, even as he laces your fingers together, and leans his head onto your shoulder. He's not gonna let you pull away. Not yet. Please...

Loona

Lighting up a cigarette, Loona leans her back against a wall of some dingy alleyway in the human world. You had chosen to wait with her, both dressed in your human disguises, hoping that any second Blitz and M&M would return with the mission completed. Your sole purpose tonight had been to guard Stolas's grimoire and open the portal when everyone was ready to return home.

Blowing her smoke towards the sky, Loona hummed softly. "At least it's a nice night, huh?" She smiles lightly, grateful her tail was hidden in this form when you leaned against the wall beside her. You looked great; you always did.

A vast blue sky with billions of twinkling stars smiled down on you two. It was a nice change of pace from the hellish red glow of your home. This particular area of Earth was quiet. Peaceful, even. Nodding your head you smile at her, Loona swallows.

Her pinky finger lightly brushed your own, a gentle startled gasp leaving you. But you smile, albeit shyly, your hand taking hers. Not many words were exchanged, none needed to be. Just Loona smoking her cigarette and looking up at the stars.

Striker

Ain't you just the cutest little thing? You think he doesn't notice how worked up and shy you get when he's just finished wrangling in some dinner, with his bare, sweaty muscles on display. It's a direct, unvoiced invite for only you and yet you haven't taken him up on anything yet. Why?

"You scared of me, sugar?" Striker drawls, flicking his cigar butt into the dirt and crushing it with the heel of his boot. You look up at him with those big, beautiful doe eyes and adamantly shake your head that you weren't. "Then what is it, darlin'? Spit it out." He smirks, gold tooth glinting.

Cheeks heating, you gnaw on your lower lip. "I'd like to hold your hand." Striker blinks, clearly taken aback. That's it? You're getting so worked up like a nervous virgin begging for a thick cock because you want to... Hold his hand? He stops himself from laughing, he can tell that it's really bothering you. Heaving a sigh, Striker plops down beside you. Pulling you into his lap, his arms slide around your waist and he offers both his hands to you. He hides his reddening face at your back, the sound of his blood rushes in his ears, unable to focus on anything but how soft your hands are. And how well they fit into his. "Jus' do it then, they're yours to touch, ain't they?"

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[uluvjay]

Hiiii

I absolutelyfucking love your Max Verstappen x innocent Horner! reader fic so please m here for another

What if reader had a purity ring and after they do it he slides it off her finger and makes it a necklace for himself. Horner would be mad. But glad that it was him than anyone else

Sending positive vibes

Max Verstappen x Horner daughter!

Warnings?; mentions to sex, cursing, kissing, probably some errors

Au masterlist!

“Darling where’s your ring?” You father asks picking up your hand to analyze the tanned finger with a pale line showcasing where the small band usually sits.

“My ring?” You question looking down the your hand as well.

“Shit, where’s my ring?” You panic trying to think about where it could have gone.

“Why would you take it off? Have you been seeing someone?” He questions you, bright eyes searching your face for answers to his questions.

“Of course not” you lie straight through your teeth, you had been seeming someone but your father didn’t need to know that it was his star driver that was fucking you silly every night.

“Then what happened to it?”

The question has you thinking back to the night before, Max had been teasing you about it stating there was no reason for you to keep the purity ring on when he’d already defiled you multiple times.

Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath after coming down from yet another orgasm. Max had laid beside you, one of his large hands holding your left hand in it as he spun the small golden band around.

“Why do you still wear this?” He questioned quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well it signifies purity right? Like you were supposed to wear it till marriage and when you lost your virginity?” He continued

“Yeah so?”

“So? Schat I took your virginity a long time ago, your far from pure now” he laughed looking at you with bright eyes.

A bright blush took over your cheeks at his words but part of you was to tired to get into the full details about why you chose to still wear it and just settled with a simple “It was a gift from my father and he’d lose his mind if he saw me without it” before sleep overtook and you were out cold while cuddled into Max’s side.

However what you didn’t see or feel was max slipping the delicate band off your finger and onto his chain that rested on the nightstand next to him.

You thought back to this morning and how you over slept leaving you with little time to get dressed and be at the track in time for qualifying, the busy morning not allowing you to notice your missing ring.

“I-i’m not sure, I guess I took it off before bed?” You stated but it sounded more like a question.

Your father opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off by the sight of Max’s car being brought back into the garage not having realized qualifying had ended and Max has once again securing pole position.

You watched as the Dutchman exited the car, pulling off his helmet and black balaclava revealing his messy and damp locks.

His eyes met yours and he shot you a sneaky wink before making way to your father for a small hug and congratulations.

You blushed at the closeness of his large body beside yours, watching as he undid the Velcro of his racing suit and pulled it down to hang around his waist.

However once his dark fireproof was revealed you couldn’t help but notice the outline of something underneath.

The imprint of his chain was there as it should be however you saw something attached to it but before you could connect the dots, the voice of your stepmother cut you off.

“Max did you get a charm for your chain?” Geri questioned causing all eyes to turn to the blonde man; including your fathers.

“Oh yes, beautiful isn’t it?” He smirked as he pulled the chain from underneath his top.

You felt the world stop as you saw your ring resting on the chain, the ring you had just told your father that you couldn’t place, the ring that was meant to signify purity, the ring that should not have been around Max Verstappen’s neck.

Christians eyes shot from the band hanging around the chain to your face that was now covered by shaky hands and the blank and unbothered face of his star driver.

“My office now. Both of you.” He demanded

Shutting the door behind himself Christian paced back and forth, he wasn’t sure what exactly it was that he was feeling.

Anger? Check, confusion? Check, shock? Double check.

“What the hell is going on between you two? And why in the fuck does max have your ring around a chain?” He asked, hands taking place on his hips.

“I-uh, we” you started but the man beside you cut you off.

“We’ve been seeing each other for awhile now, just a little under a year” max spoke in a soft tone.

“I’m sorry a year?” Your father exclaimed at the confession.

“Yes” you and max both answered at the same time.

“And I can assume you were the one to deflower my child?”

“Dad!”

“No you don’t get to ‘dad’ me right now young lady, answer the question max”

“Uh yes” max blushed at Christian’s words.

“God, fuck at least it was Max and not some college guy” he spoke in relief.

“So your okay with us being together?” You asked quietly, unconsciously moving closer to Max.

“I am but no snogging or anything gross around me” he shivered at the thought.

“I promise, thank you” you smiled as you made your way to him and pulled him into a hug.

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy darling” he replied as he placed a sweet kiss to your head.

With a sweet smile you made your way back towards max, taking a hand in his and pulling him out of the room.

But before you could fully exit your father’s voice stopped max in his tracks.

“Take care of my little girl max!”

“Always sir” he smiled at his boss before following behind your bouncing frame, a content smile on his face at the feeling of your hand in his and the sight of your pretty bow he’d gotten that sat perfectly in your hair.

Finally making it into his drivers room he pulled you in for a breathtaking kiss, the feeling of his warm lips so familiar and comforting.

His hands sank down to rest on your ass while yours slipped into his still damp hair, tugging on it when he slipped his tongue into your mouth-immediately taking dominance.

Pulling away for air his face held a smirk at the sight of your already blown out eyes and flushed face.

“I love you” he spoke running a finger over your cheek.

“I love you to” you smiled, pulling the blonde back down for another hot kiss.

-

[crispywaffles2]

hii, may I request macaque, wukong, and MK (seperately) x reader who likes to put ribbon bows on their tails? Thought it would be a cute idea ^_^

Hii!! Thank you so much for the request, this is such a cute thing to think about! I hope you enjoy! EDIT: I FORGOT TO WRITE MK IN THIS AS WELL, IM SO SORRY 😭

Macaque, Mk & Wukong With an S/O who likes to decorate their tails!

Wukong:

Wukong is most certainly confused by your strange habit

If you were to ask him to put a ribbon or bow on his tail, he'd give you a strange look

"A bow? Well... uh, sure bud!"

It doesn't really match his whole "Great Sage Equal to Heaven" schtick in his opinion

What would formidable enemies think if he went into battle with a cutesy bow on his tail??

His monkeys most certainly make fun of him for it, much to his dismay

He wouldn't wear it if he was about to go into battle or leave his mountain at first, because if his monkeys make fun of it who knows who else will do the same?

Eventually he'll warm up to it

If you tie a little orange ribbon at the end of his tail trust and believe he will be working it with pride

"Oooh, I like this color! Goes well with my fur,"

He'd start longingly staring at the sweet ribbons you tie on his tail whenever you're not around and he misses you because they remind him of you

He'll start wearing them out in public with a bit less shame, happily flicking his tail in peoples faces

"Look! My partner gave it to me, isn't it so cute?"

And he'll start wearing them in battles too!

Having a little piece of you there with him gives him just a little bit of an extra boost and reminds him of all of the things he's fighting for

Now he likes to think they go well with his personality

"Great Sage Equal to Heaven" whos not afraid to have a bit of a cutesy accessory while he kicks butt

If you're more sneaky with their placement though, that's a whole other story

He's out enjoying a nice bowl of noodles with his favorite mentor, only mentor honestly, and he hears them chuckle and point at his tail while uttering the words "Nice bow Monkey Princess,"

His face goes bright red and he quickly curls his tail around his leg to hide the thoughtfully tied ribbon from view

"Yeah, so what?! Maybe I was just feelin' a bit more elegant today, you ever think about that?"

But as soon as he bids Mk adieu he's right at your doorstep with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face

An embarrassed scolding is in order for you, that's for sure

"Hun, you know I love you, but you can't just tie ribbons on my tail like that! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was when my mentor called me a princess?!"

Eventually he relents and you two end up in a hug, his go-to when reassuring you that he's not mad or he's sorry

"Just don't do it without telling me. Next time I could be faced with Macaque, and you know how he is."

All in all it takes him a bit of time to warm up to it, but after that he'll flaunt them, and you, with confidence

Macaque:

Macaque is a lot more reluctant than his sunny counterpart

He has a tough bad boy image to uphold, why on Earth would he let you bedazzle him with your silly ribbons and bows?

"A bow? No thanks darlin'."

It takes lots of begging and whining before he caves in, and even then he refuses to go out in them

You couldn't waterboard the information out of him, but when you finish carefully tying up the little red ribbon on the end of his tail he's in love

It goes well with his cape and adds a sort of air of sophistication onto his overall demeanor

It's probably just the inner drama queen in him speaking but it makes him feel weirdly fancy and extravagant

But again, he's not going to tell you that

He won't protest as much when you tie them on

Will suggest different colors and ways to tie the ribbons

"Why don't we try purple this time? No it's not because I care about what it looks like- it was just a suggestion!"

Sometimes he tries to put them on himself because he's embarrassed to ask you, but he quickly figured out that he cannot tie bows for the life of him

And even if he learns, they're just not the same as yours

He will eventually come around to the idea of wearing them in public

He keeps his ribbon clad tail hidden beneath his cape most of the time unless he's feeling particularly confident or he wants to show it off on purpose

If anyone has the gall to try and make fun of it he's quick to shoot them down

"Yeah I have a bow on my tail, my partner gave it to me. Aww, don't tell me you don't have a partner of your own? Is that why you think you're funny? Because you don't have anyone at home to tell you you're not?"

He warms up to the idea so much that he begins to regularly ask you to decorate his tail with multiple bows and ribbons

One time, as a silly joke, you tied a particularly big red bow at the base of his tail and jokingly told him he looked like a show cat

It was a funny joke, but Macaque really really liked it

So much so that he wore it regularly, asking you to tie it on for him every time he went out

If you were to be sneaky and tie it on his tail without him knowing well..

He's actually not that upset

He's hanging out with Mei, probably the one he likes and relates to the most out of everyone, when she giggles and points at his tail, calling him 'coquette' or something

He's not sure what that term means, but he does find the fact that a little pink bow being tied on his tail without his knowledge to be amusing

Just for funsies he keeps it on all day

If and when he decides to go visit the culprit, which he knows is you, he playfully chides you

"Alright sugarplum, you know I have an image to uphold! You can't just slip little pretty pink bows on my tail without my permission!"

Once you two have had a good laugh he just chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead

All in all he really likes the bows that you decorate him with and takes it as a sign of affection, but it takes a long time for him to be open about it

Mk:

Mk in his monkey form is certainly.. something

He can't quite control himself in that form yet, but that isn't to say that he's constantly violent

He just doesn't know his own strength

With his monkey form more stern and serious, he doesn't hold back, he's blunt

And, completely unrelated, his voice is like two octaves deeper

He's scared he might hurt you, or the people he cares about, so he rarely ever uses it unless he's in battle or training

In hopes of making him more comfortable and as a way of letting him know that you're okay with this side of himself, you began tying bows on the end of his tail

He's not sure how to feel about the idea at first

"Tying.. bows? Sure, I guess.."

He doesn't know if you don't take him seriously or if you're just trying to be sweet

He's still getting used to having a tail, so sometimes it gets caught on things, which will occasionally lead to your ribbons getting torn

It makes him feel horrible for some reason, and he's always presenting the torn fabric to you like it's the remains of a dead soldier or something

"I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I promise,"

He's not against wearing them out in public (not that he ever goes in public with his monkey form)

If it's after a battle and someone were to say anything about his bow he'd hardly care

"Looks like we got a funny guy over here everyone!"

And everyone in the vicinity glares at them

Much like his mentor, he slowly starts seeing the bows less as just some silly accessory on his tail and more as a subtle reminder of you

Whenever he's in his monkey form he makes sure to come to you for a bow

"I'm feeling kinda red-ish today, what do you think?"

Your plan works, and he starts feeling better about his over powered simian side

You love him no matter what, freakishly strong or just a silly delivery boy, and the bows are just a testament to that

All in all, he finds them adorable, and what they represent fuel him to fully embrace this side of himself in order to protect the people he cares about