#messing with my queue is hell

[alicelufenia]

My team after killing Raphael in the House of Hope

Minthara was the last standing and finished him off with a Psionic Backlash.

Shadowheart definitely saved it though with Divine Intervention giving us Healer LB3 when everyone else was dead or downed.

Hope I don't need it in the future!

[lnfours]

* ✰. — birds of a feather | l.n

summary: i’ll love you til the day that i die.

warnings: the result of the new billie eilish album being on repeat and me having this song stuck in my head, so this was born. fluff, fluff and more fluff bc i said so. slowly getting my creative juices back, so bear with me.

masterlist | soundtrack

you hadn’t been looking for anything when you had met lando. a freshly graduated student who finally had time to find interest in their personal life, rather then spend their time consumed with textbooks in front of them, trying to navigate your way through the chaotic mess of life.

but the moment the curly haired brit bumped into you in the paddock, sending your notes and fresh cup of coffee all over you and the ground, you were doomed. falling head first into the comforting chaos that was lando norris.

and you thanked your stars every morning when you woke up that you had been running late that day, or else you would’ve never met the sleeping boy next to you. wouldn’t have ever gotten the chance to get to know the sought after driver with a big heart and who loves with his whole soul.

you smiled to yourself, sitting in the bed and taking in the way he slept peacefully, not aware how pretty he looked in the morning sun as it peaked in through your blinds. his cheek pressed against the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he slept.

you couldn’t help but reach out and brush the stray curl away from his face, smiling softly as he stirred in his sleep at your touch. your silent way to keep going, your nails scratching at his scalp gently. a soft hum came from him, followed by the gorgeous sight of his green eyes shining up at you. his eyes fully adjusting to the brightness as he squinted, his hand reaching out to yours.

“c’mere,”

his voice was hoarse and sleep coated, but it never failed to send shivers down your spine. you scooted closer, letting him pull you into his side. your face nuzzled in his bare shoulder, his head laying on top of yours.

“we need to be up soon,” you said, poking his ribs gently, “your family’s coming to see the new house and have dinner, remember?”

he didn’t, actually. and if it wasn’t for you, he’d be certain he’d miss all of his meetings, call times, and hell, even sometimes the start of his races. thankfully, you were never far from him on the pitlane. the perks of working with sky, who he should really thank. he’d make a mental note to do it next race. right now, he was going to enjoy the peaceful month he got to spend with you. uninterrupted peace, free time. where you got to whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted.

he groaned, nuzzling his face into your hair. you laughed softly, “lando,”

“i like when you say my name,” he mumbled, “say it again.”

you chuckled, and in your best flirty tone you could muster up in the moment, you did, “lando,”

he pressed a soft kiss to the skin of your neck, right where your neck and collarbone met. his favorite spot to kiss whenever he teased you because he knew you were ticklish.

and as if on queue, you giggled, shoving his head from your neck, “stop it,”

“just five more minutes,” he pleaded, “with my girl, in our bed, that’s all i ask.”

you sighed, “fine, but not one second longer.”

he smiled, knowing he could always get you to fold. you hated to admit it, but you’d always cave for him. do whatever he wanted. he had you wrapped around his finger and you had him wrapped around yours. smitten for each other, young in love, whatever you wanted to call it, you were it.

“how’d you sleep?” you asked, finger tips tracing the lines in your mind that you drew with your fingers every morning. connecting the moles on his skin, from his shoulders to his chest and down to his sides. your own little routine you had incorporated, a habit you picked up after the first night you spent together a year and a half ago.

“good until you woke me up.”

“you love when i wake you up.”

“you’re right,” he mumbled, “getting to see that pretty face every morning is the highlight of my day.”

you chuckled, leaning up on your elbow, reaching around and grabbing his cheek into your hand. he smiled softly as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

he pulled away, a smile on his lips as they brushed against yours, “and your morning kisses, i love waking up to your lips on mine, or on my-“

you shook your head, laughing and covering his face with your pillow before pulling yourself out from the covers, “alright, time to get up!”

“that wasn’t five minutes!” he gasped, tossing your pillow your way softly, teasingly. you laughed, walking into the connected bathroom, calling back to him.

“long enough! you killed the romantic mood,”

“i’m only speaking my truth, baby,” he said, footsteps joining you in the bathroom, watching him lean against the doorway out of the corner of your eye, “is a man not allowed to speak his truth?”

you popped the toothbrush in your mouth, sending him a glare. he laughed, pressing a kiss to your head before grabbing his own toothbrush from his side of the sink. he joined you in brushing your teeth, wrapping an arm around your waist. you smiled softly, trying to ignore how good he looked. sweatpants loosely hanging around his waist, bare chest on full display, curls wild and in serious need of taming.

you two looked good together, and even though he wasn’t necessarily considered ‘tall’ he still stood a few inches above you. his green eyes met yours in the mirror, and he knew you were subtly checking him out. he sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finished brushing your teeth.

he finished shortly after you, watching you as you rummaged around in your drawer. you pulled out the skincare he had seen you put on every morning and night, and even has put on for you after nights where you’ve had one too many vodka redbulls.

he leaned against the counter, watching you in the mirror as you rubbed the product into your skin, “can i have some?”

you giggled, moving to stand between his legs. you squeezed a little bit of the moisturizer onto your fingers, rubbing into his face. he grinned softly at your gentle touch, “that smells good.”

you nodded, “and it has sunscreen in it, it’s good for you.”

he motioned towards your drawer, “do you have any lip balm?”

you hummed, putting the tube back before grabbing the lip balm. you went to hand it to him but he raised an eyebrow at you. you sighed with a laugh, shaking your head.

“gimme,” you said, grabbing his chin and swiping the lip balm against his pursed lips. you couldn’t help but giggle again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips when you were done, “there.”

he rubbed his lips together and hummed, “hmm, is that coconut?”

you nodded, “like it?”

he nodded, pulling you in closer by your waist, “love it.”

you grabbed his wrist, checking the time on his watch, “they’ll be here in an hour.”

“so what i’m hearing is-“

“no,” you shoved his shoulder with another laugh, “what im saying is that i need to run to the store and get flowers for the vase on the table.”

“who needs flowers,” he said, pressing a kiss to your chest, “when i could have you back in my bed, all to myself for a little while longer until i have to share you for the rest of the day.”

you ran a hand through his hair, his eyes looking up to meet yours, “as tempting as it sounds, i really do have to run to the store. plus, i have to get some stuff for dinner.”

he sighed dramatically, “okay,”

you walked into the closet, rummaging through his side and stealing one of his hoodies and fishing out a pair of sweatpants. a quick outfit to run a few last minute errands.

he had found his way to the kitchen, standing at the coffee pot. you pinched his side, kissing his shoulder. he turned his head and smiled, leaning down and kissing your head, “need anything while i’m out?”

“mm,” he hummed, “breakfast? i don’t feel like cooking.”

you laughed, “me either. i’ll pick up something.”

he nodded, smiling playfully, “i guess you can take my car.”

“oh i was going to,” you said, grabbing his key off the hook, “even without your permission.”

“rude!”

you laughed, blowing him a kiss, “i’ll be back. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

your trip to the store was quick, making it back within a half an hour, arms full of things as you carried everything inside, closing the door with your foot. you set everything on the counter, hanging the keys back on the hook.

“i’m back!”

“i’m in the bedroom!” his voice called back to you. you made your way down the hallway and into the bedroom, smiling as he held up two shirts in the mirror.

“which looks better?” he asked, holding both up against the pair of plaid pants he had picked out. you hummed, standing behind him and watching his reflection. his hair being perfectly styled and his cologne filling the room telling you he had been getting ready while you were gone.

you pointed to the white shirt, “that one.”

“you think?”

you nodded, watching him take it off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders. you stepped in front of him, buttoning the buttons. purposefully leaving the top few open.

he rolled up the sleeves, sending you a look, “might as well have my whole shirt unbuttoned.”

“i wouldn’t complain.” you joked and he smiled, before quickly realizing your attire. you smile as he started pulling at the hem of his hoodie that sat on your frame.

“hey! this is mine.”

the baby blue hoodie looked better on you anyway, but he still liked to joke around with you, “i know.”

“thief.”

“come and get it then.” you shrugged, crossing your arms.

“oh, so now you’re in the mood?” he asked, “what was it? the buttons?”

you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “maybe.”

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love me.” you smiled, his hands finding your warm, soft skin under his hoodie.

“damn right i do, baby. til the day i die.”

[ozzgin]

In the post mentioning flashing horny mantis there was meet and greet. I have a question how other monsters would behave in meet and greet (assuming that they will show up)

(Sorry for my English ;^;)

Also I love your work

POV: Your monster followers meeting you

content: gender neutral reader, mentions of stalking

LizardKing5 vehemently denies his attendance in the chatroom. "What, you think you're some celebrity?" he types, claiming he has better things to do than follow around some pathetic human.

Coincidentally, he's the first monster to greet you, standing tall at the very front of the queue.

"Whatever," he'll mumble, pulling out his merch and shaking your hand with feigned indifference. "I just happened to be in the area."

"What were you even doing before this," you ask, raising your eyebrows at the enormous backpack looming behind him.

Is that camping gear?

His clawed, scaly hand quickly ruffles your hair. Mind your damn business.

SharkMan is rather polite and reserved in his mannerisms. Don't misunderstand, he truly is excited to see you again, but he'd rather not add more to your plate. Besides, if we count the milestone event, he's already gotten way more than a handshake from you.

"Are you staying hydrated?" he asks, placing a bag of goodies on your table. "Here's something to eat during your break."

You smile and thank him for the thoughtful gesture. Hard to believe the same monster left you nearly crippled after a night together. You're sitting on the same cushion you needed for weeks after the affair.

DefNotAStalker will show up just to mess with you. He's watched you prepare for the event, he carefully observed you getting dressed; hell, he even ironed your outfit the night before! You swear the shirt had wrinkles last time you checked.

He'll shake your hand with an innocent grin and ask for an autograph. He's picked the perfect photo for it: to the unaware, it looks like a blurry print screen taken during one of your livestreams. In reality, he cheekily snapped it while hanging right above you, off-screen. You sign it with a chuckle.

"Thank you for coming, it was such a tiring week for me," you say, lowering yourself back in your seat.

"I can imagine. I hope the apartment complex will fix it soon."

You nod, distracted, and the monstrous creature slithers away.

Wait, did you ever even mention this to your followers?

Y/NSimp is elated to meet you. He's been carefully planning this for months, constantly daydreaming about the fateful encounter. His bag is filled to the brim with the required equipment: a fat stack of love letters, a marriage certificate, Photoshopped photos of the two of you together, an engagement ring, and a list of potential names for your future children.

He can already see it: he'll hand you the bag and the flowers, and you'll gasp, surprised by his romantic gesture. You never thought someone would care this much. Without hesitation, you jump into his arms, and promptly cancel the rest of the event. You'll be too busy with your husband-to-be.

Unfortunately, he has omitted one vital detail in his elaborate schemes: the correct address of the meet and greet. By the time he reaches the actual location, the doors are closed and the venue empty.

[Monster Streaming Series] | [Meet and Greet Part 1]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 

Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 

You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 

You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  

"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 

You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 

"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 

You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 

"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 

You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 

"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 

"When I get home." You hang up.  

It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 

Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 

Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 

You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 

Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  

Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 

You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  

You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 

You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  

You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 

Not important! 

You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 

Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 

No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 

You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 

It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  

You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 

You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 

You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 

No, you didn't! 

It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 

That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 

Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 

Nothing. Happened. 

Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 

You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 

[zombeesknees]

#a classic film   #impeccable cinema

HANSEL AND GRETEL: WITCH HUNTERS (2013)

[catiuskaa]

reggaeton & champagne.

PAIRING! lee minho x reader x bang chan

SUMMARY: you knew better than to go down to the club alone. and that guy should’ve known better than to mess with minho and chan’s property.

REQUESTED! by my pookie @sharonxdevi who requested this here! and it’s such a good idea, tysm for trusting me with it<3

CW: the boys may come off as a little possesive, there’s a touchy douche in the club, mentions of alcohol, it ain’t spicy but surely it’s nsfw.

WC: 2.3k

A/N: so i’ve never even thought of writing poly!skz relationships until now, but i think it came out nicely! (and if you kinda recognize the title— i just spend an unhealthy amount of time watching skz edits on instagram lololol)

[🔹☆💠☆🔹]

The sign of the club glowed with bluish neon lights at the entrance. There was also a man, notebook in hand, receiving IDs prior to welcoming the long queue of people. Although it was not the most expensive nightclub in the city, you could see the difference between it and the rest of the clubs in town, in the sense that the establishment was very tidy and clean, with security personnel scattered around the corners, watching that everything was going out smoothly.

It was unusual for you to want to go out clubbing, but considering the boys’ schedule, any chance to make plans together was welcomed with open arms.

Especially by Minho and Chan, who would never force you to go out, but their lingering stares and their arms that would sneakily clung to your waist or your shoulders —and in some cases, to lovingly slap your ass or thighs—, were meant as a way of encouragement when you dressed up and went for it.

And a way to say that, as always, you looked fine as hell.

You had chosen a short silver-coloured dress that reached your mid-thighs, accompanied by a pair of matching mesh thigh-highs with cute little clips that allowed them to stay in place, only because you knew how to entertain your public, and loved every single second their eyes stayed glued to you as you danced your heart out.

The music pounded against the walls and reverberated through the floor, but not as much as how the booze traveled through your veins, only giddy enough to celebrate how well their last tour had gone, and merely to have some well-deserved fun.

Minho’s hands grasped you by your waist, pulling you off Chan’s arms and smirking as he pushed your back flush against his body.

One of his hands remained in place, but the other one moved slowly, tempting fingers heading down to your thighs, as if walking, the motion almost ticklish. You could feel his cat-like grin from behind you as you looked at Chan, who wasn’t mad at all, rather cheekily enjoying the other man’s antics as you kept dancing against him, following the rhythm of the music.

Chris got closer to the both of you, taking your arms and settling them on his shoulders as he approached even further, now the two gentlemen dressed in fine clothes towering over you.

“Our princess is feeling good today, huh?” His hand cradled your face, holding your chin in a tender grasp, unlike Minho, who started to play with one of the clips on your high mesh stockings.

You were about to say something, but Minho tugged at one of the straps and chuckled next to your ear, slapping it back. Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, feeling the blush rising to your cheeks, the light foundation you had applied not being able to cover it.

Chris snickered, and Minho lightly bit the shell of your ear, and they both laughed as you squirmed in between their arms.

“Ok, ok—!” You giggled, out of breath due to the tickling and else. You didn’t want to leave just yet, but didn’t want to stop teasing your boys either.

Tugging on Chan’s collar, you propelled him forward, his hands ending on Minho’s shoulders by reflex. You moved your body in between both of them, swaying your hips, playing with Chris’ hair as you turned your head to face the man behind you, and chuckled, biting his lip.

They both felt a rush of blood heading to their face—and downwards—, but you stopped Chan for pushing you against Minho even more, one of your soft hands nonchalantly moving from the back of his neck to his chest, cheekily stroking his toned upper body.

“I think we can use some more drinks, gentlemen.” Your tone was filled with an enticing mockery only powered by their presence, and you licked your lips, feeling Minho’s slender fingers playing with the rim of your dress, tapping your thigh gently.

“I think we should head to the VIP lounge.” He grunted against your ear, his breath tickling your there, but the gentle yet lust-filled kisses he left right below started driving you a bit crazy. “Whaddya think, Chan?” Minho smirked, swiftly lifting his head from your neck to stare at the older man.

With all the mix of bright coloured lights, you could notice slightly how Chris’ eyes grew darker. Almost so dark that they could fuck you themselves, and you squeezed your thighs at the thought.

“I think our little brat needs to learn that teasing won’t get her anywhere, hyung.” Minho’s slender fingers playfully traced mindless shapes on your thigh.

The older man swallowed hard, his breath deepening.

“Guess you’re on thin ice, princess.” He leaned in, and pecked Minho’s lips from above your shoulder. He then turned slightly, and spoke in your ear. “You have ten minutes to go get those drinks. Go up the VIP platform right after, like the good girl you are, mmh?”

His hum almost echoed through your body, falling into an endless pit of arousal that those two gorgeous men had created, now able to make you feel hot and bothered in just a cheeky wink or a deep look.

Making you oh so weak for them. Only them.

“Heard that, kitten?” Minho smirked, lovingly kissing your cheek, as close as he could to the corner of your lips. “Ten minutes. Tick-tock.”

You tried heading towards the bar without your knees giving out as they both moved away, and instantly missed their warmth and strong hold on your body. But before you could even try, Chris tsked, pulling you back to him and almost fiercely planting a deep kiss that lit fire on your body, and almost made you whine when he pulled away, biting your lip.

“Fuck.” He gasped, feeling breathless. “Make that five minutes for daddy, yeah?”

And with a tap on your hips and a teasing wink, he left, following where Minho had gone.

You were unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face, feeling your cheeks get hot, and you patted them, hoping that your slightly cooler hands would do something to low it down.

Shaking your head lightly, you waved at the bartender, a tall, blond and handsome young man, and he gave you a kind smile. You sat on the stool closest, and he approached you, leaning on the counter.

“Nice seeing you here for a change.” He said with a snicker.

“Wish I could say the same, Hyunjin.” You wiggled your eyebrows almost dramatically, making him laugh.

“Your three usuals, beautiful?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. “Comin’ right up.”

You watched as he gracefully started to show off his abilities, passing drinks and metal cups and bottles in flashes and zooms, controlling every move so swiftly.

But then, you felt a hand on your waist.

“Sorry, scooching up real quick…” said a low voice from behind you.

His hands brushed your back, making you shiver. But it was a bad shiver. One that swiped away the giddiness your boys had left, but not as quickly as your smile took off.

The bold man dizzily sat on a stool that could’ve easily been a foot or two away, and your body relaxed easily at the new-formed distance.

You stared at him in a mix of slight disgust and raw astonishment. Used to your boys and the rest of the group, or people like Hyunjin, one could easily forget that people weren’t always respectful, nice and kind.

He noticed your blank stare, and misinterpreted it as interest. With a wide smile, he bent down, grabbing one of the legs of the stool you were sitting on, and smoothly moved it closer to his.

Another shiver ran through your back, goosebumps showing on your skin.

He smiled, and you held back a frown.

“Besides looking that sexy, what else do you do for a living?”

…

yikes.

That line didn’t only give you the ick, but you also noticed Hyunjin physically flinched, which made you snort, quickly covering your mouth.

The man was so drunk. You could smell it on his breath, and the guy looked rather pathetic. You didn’t feel too sorry for him, but wanted him as far as possible, and you moved to the edge of your stool.

The man looked proud of your giggles, but grew restless when you didn’t reply, so he took a sip from the glass of whiskey in front of him, kind of as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while.

You sat up straight, glaring at Hyunjin so he’d call security if things turned complicated, and he winked at you as a form of reassurance.

“Do you, eh, come here often?” He blurbed out.

You looked at your hands, staring at your nails, and waited for a second before giving him a side-eye from above your shoulder, slender eyes looking uninterested.

Quickly going back to your nails, you shrugged. “Enough to know that you don’t.” You brushed off coldly.

If you did, you’d know that I’m happily taken.

He stammered, his breath hitched, and you could almost feel him start getting even more nervous, as well as slightly angry.

“Huh? Why’s that?” He scoffed, eyebrows raised at you, who again, didn’t bother to look at him, a bit wary of his moody attitude.

Hyunjin smiled at you, coldly glaring at the clueless man next to you as he swiftly left the three drinks in place, pressing the red button underneath the counter to call for help.

The man smirked, going back to a confidence you didn’t want to know where he had gotten.

Placing his arm sneakily on your waist.

Huh?

“All those for you?”

Before you could react and slap him for his unrequested bold actions, you heard a grunt behind you.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

At that moment, Chan wasn’t so sure if he was the pacific one in your relationship.

He trusted you and your ability to set your own boundaries, by any means necessary, even if it meant slapping someone across the face.

And he knew them by heart. He had watched how you grimaced, trying to take this drunkard’s hands away from you.

So he helped you by slapping them off your body.

As ‘gently’ as he could.

“Move aside.” He said in a low growl, failing to relax until you moved your hand and took his, squeezing it as a way of thanking him.

Instead of getting the hint, the man frowned.

“Hey, if you can’t tell, I was trying to—”

Minho scoffed, appearing behind the man.

“Keep babbling around our girl and I’ll give you a story to tell.” He said in a dark, low tone of voice, eyes and tongue so sharp that they could almost pierce right through the man. “Now shoo.”

Security came by a minute after and apologized for not taking care of him before, then fined him, following the nightclub’s rules and finally kicked the man out.

One of the security guys approached the three of you, and bowed swiftly, apologizing.

“I’m really sorry. This guy has already annoyed some other customers before. I’ll speak to the owner of the place and see if there is something we can do regarding his situation. As for you, miss…” He gave you his card, and you smiled at him, bowing your head gently.

“My name is Seo Changbin. If you ever need anything…” he sighed, a hand to his nape, the buff man slightly flustered. “Don’t hesitate to call me. I can’t think of another way to compensate you…”

Chan smiled, and shook hands with the security guard.

“No need to worry, mate. It’s fine now.” He stated calmly, his other hand still engulfing yours.

Minho bowed at him, his arm around your waist, as if trying to erase any marks or traces of the drunkard’s touch.

“Home, love?” He said in a gentle whisper, kissing your temple after you nodded. “S’okay.”

Minho opened the door to the car for you, and Chan’s hand never left your thigh the whole way back home.

As soon as you got back, you let out a tired sigh.

Chris hugged you from behind, and you melted under his touch. With a soft grin, Minho ushered Chan’s arms away from you, and swiftly took you in his arms.

“Sleepy?” The older one asked, but you shook your head. You didn’t want the night to end on this note. “Then I’ll go get something. You guys get going.” He smiled at you, eyes soft as he lovingly stroke your cheek, your face resting on Minho’s shoulder.

With a slight smirk, he patted Minho’s butt, and headed to his studio.

“Bang Chan!” He whisper-yelled, ears red, and you chuckled lowly.

“Cheeky little baby.” Minho cooed at you, heading to your shared room, and you giggled softly, hiding your head on the crook of his neck. “Let us take care of you, yeah?”

You moved your head from his neck and pecked his lips. Minho took you to bed, and tenderly took your heels off.

“Shower?” He asked softly, but you shook your head no, so he nodded, taking off your dress. With a cat-like grin, his fingers went back to your thighs.

“You have to wear these more often, you little tease.” He snickered, and you smiled, blushing softly. “You look so good in everything.” He said, stroking your cheek.

Chan quickly came back, fluffy blankets and laptop with him.

“Movie night!” He smiled, almost childishly, and both your and Minho’s heart tugged on your chests.

They took their fancy clothes off and put on sleeveless shirts and the matching pyjama pants you had gifted them for Christmas, who were at first meant as a joke, but remained being used just because how comfy they were.

There, snuggled between Chan and Minho, you smiled, taking both of their hands.

“I’m hungry.” You said, pouting unconciously.

“We can make popcorn if you want.” Christ suggested, pausing the movie.

You sat in your knees, looking at them with a smirk.

Minho smirked back, starting to guess where this was headed.

“What do you want to eat, kitten?”

You snickered.

“I want to have ramen.”

~kats, who hopes everyone understood that kdrama reference just now ;););););)

[beenbaanbuun]

brothers best friend pt 2 w/ jeong yunho

part 1

so i forgot to pause my queue and you’re getting this a day early… whoops

yunho looks so massive towering above you like that

there’s an unfamiliar look on his face, cheeks flushed, lips parted, nostrils flared, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous under his watchful gaze

maybe he’s angry, but you can’t think of anything you’d done to upset him

hell, you’d fallen asleep pretty much as soon as he told you to! its like you could’ve—

oh fuck… the dream

you sit up as quick as humanly possible, any semblance of sleepiness slipping away as you realise exactly why he’s looking at you like that

like you’ve just committed the greatest crime known to man

you can’t look at him, embarrassment and guilt flowing through you like blood

“yun, i—” he cuts you off with a shush

it confuses you for just a second or two; surely he’d give you the chance to explain your self right?

it’s hardly like you deserve to have that chance, perverted little slut

but still, yunho is a nice enough guy; he’ll let you try and wriggle your way out of it… won’t he?

“yunho, i can ex—” again, you’re cut off with a sharp shush

you whimper in response as the tears that begin to gather along your lash line turn his silhouette blurry

“i don’t need an explanation from you,” he speaks softly, “i don’t want one, either. i don’t think it would change anything, do you?”

his face is still set in stone, eyes steely as they stare you down

it only makes you feel even more pathetic, like a child being scolded for making a mess

you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how he saw you; nothing more than his friends kid sister making a mess of things again

you’re always making a mess of things…

your eyes begin to burn with tears

“why are you getting upset, sweetheart?” yunho asks from above you, voice stern and commanding and nothing like the teasing tone he usually uses with you

“it’s embarrassing,” you sniffle, trying your hardest to stop your voice from wavering under the influence of your tears, “i’m sorry.”

he hums, nodding slightly as though he’s seriously mulling over your apology

as if he’s actually considering accepting it…

its cruel, making you wait for your judgement as if he’s not going to end up kicking you out at the end of it all

maybe you were wrong about him being a kind man…

“why is it embarrassing?” he hums, and your heart sinks just a little further

great; he’s going to humiliate you before kicking you out

your eyes meet his, begging for just a little mercy

he doesn’t seem to waver, eyes still icy and face still wearing that unreadable expression

“yunho,” you whisper, mentally preparing yourself to beg for forgiveness

he shakes his head, a hum of disapproval leaving his lips, “tell me, honey; why are you embarrassed?”

and just like that the dam breaks, your chin wobbling as a long keen leaves the back of your throat

the first tear rolls down your cheek, swiftly followed by a second

yunho catches them with his thumbs

“tell me…”

you suck in a shaky breath, forcing it out through your pursed lips

it doesn’t really help to soothe you like you thought it would…

“i had a wet dream about you,” your voice is so timid and small… you’re pathetic

“yes, you did,” yunho agrees, “but i hardly think that’s a good reason for all this fuss, hm?”

you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice

it almost sounds affectionate under that thick layer of condescension that only ever comes out when he’s talking to you

“after all, you didn’t see me crying when i was thinking all those dirty thoughts about you crawling into my bed…”

what?

your jaw hangs slack as you let his words soak in

he has to be teasing you, right?

“your pretty pussy was showing through your shorts, baby, but you didn’t even realise, hm?”

he takes your chin in his hand, forcefully snapping your mouth shut

“you were clenching around nothing,” his pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip, “practically begging for me to fill you up and you didn’t even realise.”

you squirm, everything he does working against you and your barely intact sanity

his words that he says so nonchalantly as if you’re not utterly filthy

his hand that remains firmly on your chin, his thumb dancing back and forth along your jawline

that damned tongue that he can’t seem to keep inside of his mouth for more than a second

you can’t help it when you whimper; after all, he’s the only one to blame

“yuyu,” you sound as pathetic as you feel, but you don’t have the brain power to feel humiliated, “please do something…”

he smiles down at you

“do something?” he asks, “like what, honey? you’re going to have to be more specific if you want yuyu to do what you want.”

the sound of him teasing you so effortlessly goes straight to your cunt, and you clench your thighs around nothing

it doesn’t help ease the ache between them at all

in fact all it does is smear your wetness over your thighs, leaving you with a sticky, uncomfortable mess

you desperately need something more; some friction to ease that ache in your clit and something inside of you to fill up your empty hole

and there’s yunho, your brothers best friend, standing above you looking like a fucking god

that’s all you need to push you over the edge

“yunho, please fuck me,” you whine, bringing a hand up to rest upon his wrist

your fingers wrap around it, tugging softly until his grip slips from your jaw

you drag it down, heading lower and lower until his hand catches on the duvet that still rests over your lower half

and then you stop, passing the proverbial ball to him; it’s in his court now and whatever happens next is up to him

whether he fucks you or not… it’s his choice

but you have no time to worry about what might not come to pass when he grabs the covers and tosses them to the side

his eyes hone in on those fucking shorts, and he swears he can feel his cock jump in his shorts

fucking hell, they’re practically see through with just how wet you are

he can see everything and what a delight that is

your pretty little pussy, wet and waiting for him to ruin it with his fingers, his cock, him cum

he needs so badly to see the real thing

“these damn shorts, baby,” he groans as he hooks his fingers over the waist band and tugs, “i might just have to keep them, if that’s okay with you?”

his words make your pussy clench, a sight that has him humming in appreciation

“i take that as a yes?” he tugs them down over your thighs, wasting no time in stripping your bottom half bare and tucking your shorts in the pocket of his pants.

with your glistening hole now exposed to him, he wastes no time in getting on his knees at the bottom of the bed

at first he just watches it, studying it as intensely as a college student studies their textbook the night before a final

you’re about to say something, to beg some more, when he reaches out a hand and slides a finger through your sopping folds

you gasp as he brushes it gently against you clit before pulling it away entirely, slipping it between his lips without so much as a second of hesitation

his eyes flutter closed and his cheeks hollow

the moan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic; you find yourself in awe of the show he’s putting on for you

“taste so good, honey,” he purrs as he tugs his finger free, “i’d eat you up forever, if you let me…”

he pauses, letting his eyes flicker up to meet yours

“will you let me?”

you nod, too dazed to say anything

“good girl…”

he wastes no time in laying down and throwing your legs over his shoulders

his giant hands find your thighs, gently caressing your smooth skin under the calloused tips of his fingers

they squeeze, kneading your flesh as he lowers his face to your aching core

“ready?” he hums, the word propelling a cool blast of air against your clit

you squirm and nod, but he shakes his head

“i really need your words this time, baby,” he says, “i’ve been lenient so far but i won’t do anything without your explicit permission; are you ready?”

“y-yes, yun…”

and just like that, he presses a soft kiss to your clit, the tip of his tongue just barely grazing it before he pulls away

it draws a whine through your gritted teeth

yunho chuckles before going back in to lick a stripe over your dripping hole

an obscene slurping sound echoing around the room as his tongue collects as much of your juices as he can before going back for more

he licks and prods are your hole, seeming to tease it until it leaks some more, all which his nose bumps gorgeously up against your clit

you hands fly to his hair, holding him against you in fear of him leaving you high and dry

he’s making you feel so good, the last thing you want is for this to stop

he just smiles against you as he feels the tug of your fingers in his locks, scraping his teeth against you in a way that has your body going limp

it’s even worse when he brushes them against your sensitive bud

you don’t quite register the sound your own mouth makes, too lost in the throws of pleasure to fully comprehend anything other than yunho

“so sweet, honey,” he grunts before he takes you clit between his lips

he suckles on it, hollowing his cheeks out as he pulses the pressure

he alternates between hard and soft sucks

it’s enough to make that knot in your stomach tighten

you’re getting close

“yuyu,” you cry as you let your hips buck into his mouth

it doesn’t phase him at all, so you carry on seeking your high

and when yunho sharpens his tongue to a point, letting you grind against the very top of it, that’s when you come undone

that’s when the knot snaps and your world turns white for just a second

fucking hell, yunho knows how to eat pussy…

he continues his ministrations for just a moment or two, letting you get it all out of your system before he pulls away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand

“how was that, pretty girl?” he hums, “think you can take my cock next?”

[wosoluver]

Hotter than hell

Patri Guijarro x reader

tw: smut, minors DNI

Patri Guijarro Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"I'm obsessed with her." you said biting down on the straw in your drink. If stares could burn, Patri would be on fire.

You were on a get together. Patri invited the girls and you invited your friends. Trying the best you could to entertain the people you each invited, led you two to be separated for most of the night. You with your friends and she with hers. Casually meeting her eyes once in a while.

Having a high yearning for each other wasn't uncommon. But tonight you were struggling to keep it to yourself.

Draining down the drinks, trying to stay cool.

"You're allowed to. She's your girlfriend and she's hot as hell." your friend said, knowing not to feed into your desires, but doing it anyway, out of funsies.

You almost let out a whine. Turning your attention back, you could only agree with her.

"I know, this woman can have me for breakfast, lunch and dinner." you said mouth watering at the thought.

As if on queue Patri wrapped her arms around your waist from behind, leaving a wet kiss on your temple.

"Hey love, you look a bit agitated." she said with a smirk on her face. She knew exactly what she was doing, and how you were feeling.

"Yeah, I think I'm a little hot, look." you said putting her hand on your forehead, while letting out a pout.

"Agree. Think I need to take you home." She said, her eyes boring into yours.

"Yeah, let's go."

You bid your goodbyes, and left without any remorse. Using the excuse that you weren't doing too well. Which was completely unnecessary, your friends knew you.

Arriving home you almost didn't make it past the front door.

You kissed her with everything you had in you. Taking a brief pause.

"I'll get us some water, meet you in the bedroom?"

"Yes ma'am." you answered.

Walking there you took the opportunity to take your heesls off, moving to try and unzip the dress.

"I believe that's my job." she said letting the dress fall to the ground. Giving you goosebumps. Tracing kisses from your shoulder to your neck, as you bit down your lips, trying to stop a moan from coming out.

"I like to hear you, amor." you knew that. She always made it very clear, with a smug look plastered on her face. It turned her on, knowing she was the one causing those sounds to leave your lips.

By now you were so wet, closing your legs together to try and get some friction.

"I don't think so." she whispered, spreading them apart once again, reaching to your core. But only teasing by running her finger over it. Making you whine.

"There you go." praising you for the small noise.

She guided you to bed, walking behind you, her hands on your waist, pushing you gently down on the bed. As you turned to lay on your back, propping up on your elbows, to be able to look her in the eye.

No matter how horny you were, you always had to be looking at each other. It's how you communicated, how you connected.

She wasted no time, kneeling on the floor and burring her face in between your legs.

Knowing how to work you. Sucking gently on your clit. Your hands reaching to interlace on her hair, pulling slightly on it. She continued to suck, more aggressive by the minute, as you unfolded more and more on her lips.

When she looked up at you through her lashes you swore you had died and been sent to heaven. It was the only explanation possible for the way Patri made you feel.

"Patri-" you let out as she flickered her tongue side ways. "I'm- please."

"Go ahead, amor." reveling as your juices made a mess on her face.

She cleaned herself a bit, as she let you rest for a moment. Before reaching to kiss you again, eagerly.

"Fuck." you let out almost as a whisper.

"What? Can't handle a second round? Thought I could have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner." she said reciting word for word of the comment you had made earlier, when you thought she couldn't hear you.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Please send in requests! And critism too (constructive though) 🩷

[ffeelann]

könig w a reader who is much smaller than him but has ATTITUDE like she's a girl boss and könig is just 🧍🏻‍♂️

a/n: HE ORDERED WITHOUT PICKLES love these ones

open requestsss

tw: marriage omg, husband/wife, gentle giant/short demon, fem reader, she's LOUD. Swearing bc this girl has her attitude sorry, yelling, könig being like ''sorry she's kinda... haha''. not my first lenguage sorry BE NICE ILY

—Hey, hey. Wait your turn, man, the hell you doing? We've been here waiting for hours— Y/N heard a soldier saying. Oh damn, they were skipping turns on the queue again.

Y/N was a nurse who was trying, to work and check every single guy out there. But someone was doing some mess.

—Hey, Y/N, would you please...?— one of the nurses asked her, but she didn't even let him finish and she took off her gloves without hesitation.

—Hell yeah, these big ass idiots are messing with my temple again— ''temple'' ment the poorly made nursery that barely kept on it's feet.

She walked off the nursery to see the queue being interrupted by a guy that was taking another... way much taller... wait a second.

Ah, shit. That was König.

—Hey! Hey, you, big insufferable toddler! Let that man go or I'll cancel your date!

Y/N yelled while she walked quickly to that place. König stared at her while she got closer to them both, without really moving. He just made a slight effort to keep himself quiet and without any move. Waiting for that tiny piece of anger to come there.

—You yell at him, girl! My feet are hurting like shit for standing here for, like, hours. And this guy wants to skip the fucking que-

—He's not hurt, you dumbass, don't you have eyes?— Y/N said, and the closest soldiers were honestly looking at her with some amusement on their faces, since she was deffending the biggest man from the middle heighted one. When she was...

—Yeah shortie, that's pretty much making it way wor-

Y/N tried to punch him, but König hold her faster by her waist and took two steps back to avoid her kicking the hurted guy. While this happened, she yelled and swore at him.

—The hell you doing, man? Let the nurse get him— another guy said. And König denied with his head quickly.

—My wife doesn't really appreciate any comments about her height. She can come out as...

She suddenly shutted down her voice.

—What did you say, babe?

—Uh... I said ''my wife doesn't...''-

Y/N pointed to König's face making some effort to it. Which all the closest soldiers listened closely, specially the guy who tried to hold Y/N's husband back before.

—Heard that? This is my husband. And he's big and he can really beat your ass, hear me? Do not disrespect my man again, understood?— she said, pointing at her ring and showing her hand off at his face.

—Eh...?

—Understood?! Made myself fucking clear?!

The guy looked at König's eyes, and the man in question avoided the eye contact to look at the mad woman on his arms. He looked at the man for a tiny bit to nod softly, indicating him to quit and shut up.

—Y-yes, ma'am...

—Good!

She took the big man's hand once he left her to conduct themselves into the nursery. And König felt very proud to the fact that everyone looked at his wife. She was lovely, after all.

[sportswriters]

nope, no favorites around here - j. drury

pairing: jack drury x female!reader | f, slight a | co-workers to lovers | wc: 716 | warnings: mentions of jack fighting on the ice

welcome post!

y/n’s part of the medical team of the carolina hurricanes. she has a great relationship with the players since it's her job to do check-ups before and after the games.

one fine day, she almost collapses while watching jack getting into a fight with the opponent. the crowd is loud, the guys on the bench are shocked and impressed at the same time. jack dropping the gloves mid game? that's rare. she hates it.

“i don't care if you won, i don't care if it hypes up the crowd, i don't care if it's normal in this sport. are you freaking dumb?”

she's distracted until she notices jack watching her with a smug smile on his face, not even slightly offended by her rant. y/n freezes.

“sorry, shouldn't have gone that far.”

“it's alright, it's a valid worry to have… as someone from the medical team.” jack absolutely knows there's more to it, but he's having fun. she's adorable.

“of course.” she nods. “medical concerns only.”

at home, she starts overthinking about her relationship with jack, wondering if people might be seeing too much. i'm kind and attentive to everyone, right? oh, no, what if they think jack's my favorite? that's awful!

the next day, she goes to work completely self-conscious of her own actions. she greets everyone trying not to be suspicious as she almost sprints to her office. she takes care of the paperwork from the previous day and take notes of what the boss left for her. when practice time arrives, the players come around to do a quick check-up before going to the ice. she has other doctors with her, but somewhere inside she knows jack is going to her cubicle.

he does. jack walks peacefully to his favorite doctor assistant — knowing that there are a few others available —, but what catches him out of guard is how professional she’s acting. well, of course she always does her job correctly, but never this cold, this far — far from him. y/n does every step of the check-up carefully, trusting she’s great at hiding her thoughts from her expressions. they seem to be eating her up inside, that’s why she looks so focused on not messing it up.

“you alright? you look restless,” jack asks, genuinely concerned.

“all great, just got a lot on my plate today,” she replies, eyes on the clipboard with his informations. “good practice, jack. don’t come back here anytime soon.”

y/n turns her back at him to hide her frown, regretting her words. she just needs him to leave so she can breathe properly.

“thought i was your favorite patient.” he tries to lighten the mood. he really doesn’t want it to end that fast, but regrets it a second after, because when their eyes meet, she’s terrified.

“what? nope, no favorites around here. i treat every player equally. have you heard something about it?”

“hey, don’t worry, i was kidding.” jack watches her posture relax. “i promise to do my best only to come here to see you, is that okay?”

y/n freezes. what the hell is going on, right now?

“look, i like talking to you, alright? i’m not a fan of pain and bandages as well, i just don’t mind coming here when i know i’ll be seeing your pretty face.” jack decides to keep talking, afraid you’ll make any assumptions. “and i don’t want you to overthink that i’m giving mixed signs. so, y/n, i’d really like to take you on a date if you allow me.”

“yes. wait.” she covers her mouth then her face in embarrassment. jack softens, his smile grows bigger.

he waits patiently for her. in fact, he’d love to cup her cheeks on his own hands, but that’s hopefully for another day.

“i mean, yeah, it would be nice to go out with you,” she answers, holding a smile as best as she can. “but now i think you should go. wouldn’t wanna mess the queue and get me fired, right?”

he chuckles. there she is, the y/n that got him infatuated.

“of course. see you later, then?”

“don’t even dare getting a scratch on purpose, you hear me?”

“even though you’re adorable when you’re worried?”

“get out of my face right now!”

[playsboths]

ART DOESN’T KNOW HOW LONG HE’S BEEN IN LOVE WITH JOHANNA FOR. HE THINKS HE’S LOVED HER SINCE he met her. He’s never been one to believe in love at first sight, but he thinks he’s been in love with Johanna Barker since he saw her. He knows, though, that they can’t be together. He’s not stupid. He knows how her guardian is. Art doesn’t have the power to defy him. He wishes he did. He wishes he could steal Johanna away and marry her in secret. He wishes they could be together.

He doesn’t tell her that she’s wrong. He learned not to years ago. His heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest. He wonders how he’s so calm. He wonders how she’s so calm. He thinks it’s the shock. “Then let’s run away.” He can’t believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He hasn’t even finished school yet. But he thinks running away with Johanna is more important than finishing school. He takes a step closer to her and takes her hands. “Let’s run away. Now. We can leave tonight. No one will know.” He cups her face in his hands. “Marry me.” The words are barely above a whisper. “Marry me and run away with me. Please. Johanna, I love you. And I can’t—.” He looks away for a moment and then looks back at her. “We can make it better. Please, Johanna. We can leave tonight and no one will know and we can run and get married and be happy.”

@playboths sent: it means that you are kind, noble and splendid and i could not help loving you.

her guardian has a ring hidden somewhere. in his pocket or on a shelf, she's practically certain of it based on his recent remarks. in a way, he's treated her like a young bride since she was fourteen years old. johanna is just yet to inherit the name. she has understood how she is doomed for years, yet part of her wanted to hope. with art, there was always a new, positive emotion around him. joy, belonging, or perhaps it was that hope as their fingers brushed against each other. johanna doesn't know for how many years it has been. maybe the simple sight of his flashing smile has always sent her ablaze.

but hearing those words she has craved to hear sends a knife through her back. she can only think of that ring. of her guardian's hands. they have no chance together.

❝ you know me, art. you know i'm not really . . . noble. or splendid. or . . . kind. ❞ fingers tug at her curls. she wishes she could use them instead to lead him into a kiss. ❝ i want . . . i wish things were different, but---they're not! ❞ i want to love you freely. johanna looks up at him, into his blue eyes as if she has any authority to. ❝ i want to run away with you. i want to go right now. ❞ art hasn't even graduated yet. it doesn't stop her from wanting. if it were up to her, they would run hand-in-hand right out of his front door right now. ❝ i love you, too. a lot. i've, um, i'm in love with you. i want it to be . . . better. ❞

[freyito]

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱɪᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

guess whos getting sick.... yippee!! i like never get sick and when i do im like completely OUT. rn it's just a sore throat and a kind of cough but it's been getting worse all day so i figured i'd get this out and donesies with before i cant even leave my bed lol

cw: gn reader, just fluff, JEWISH JOHNNY (hes jewish and you arent gonna tell me otherwise), not proofread

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny does not care that you could possibly get him sick, he is all over you. Like not once does he leave your side. And if he has to? Then he's just picking you up and taking you with him. Even if you complain that you wanna stay in bed.

He's got a weeks worth of takeout planned. All your favorite comfort food, something cold for your throat, something warm, too. And he's always got a nice, cold bottle of water for you. He's very intent on you staying hydrated.

We all know he can't cook. But this man has ONE (1) thing he actually can make without messing up. Two words. Jewish. Penicillin. Good ol' Matzoh Ball Soup. Guaranteed to cure you (don't take his word). And it's damn good. It's the perfect temperature, and it runs down your throat so smoothly that it- for once- doesn't feel like sandpaper. It's bliss. Pure damn bliss.

Of COURSE you're gonna end up cuddled up on the couch or in bed, watching some sort of movie or show. It's Johnny Cage. But, he also just likes talking with you. Or, to you. He doesn't want you to lose your voice, now. He'll ramble on and on about cinema, history- literally any, but of course he's a bit partial to Sento and the Taira clan specifically.-, and physics, science, yada yada.

And he talks and talks for days on end. Until you get better. But who am I kidding, he talks then, too. And when you finally get better, it's actually a miracle that Johnny isn't sick. But he's even more clingy, after.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Unlike Johnny, Kenshi knows to give you space. Doesn't mean he isn't right by you the entire time, though. He's constantly checking your temperature, checking in on you in general. Do you need anything? How about a warm bath? Something to eat? Water? It's a constant stream of questions. He's just so worried about you, even if it is just a common cold.

He does order takeout as well, but it usually just amounts to soups and what not, he's kind of hellbent on making sure you eat the right foods and not something that could even make the cold slightly worse. He'll let popsicles slide, though... just no icecream. Hell no.

About that bath... Kenshi puts his heart and soul into it, for whatever reason. Epsom salt, some vitamin C bath foam, maybe some petals just to make it a little fancy. Oh, he's got it all. He wants to make sure you're at the height of relaxation.

Music and Audiobooks. He's got then playing, unless you ask for silence. Of course, he plays them kinda softly. He's a bit afraid of you getting a headache. It offers some sort of mental stimulation, though, while your huddled up in bed. He wants to make sure you don't feel bored while you're sick.

And once you're better... he's got so much laundry done. Like the very moment you're all energized and feeling better, he's like "oh the dryers done!". Kenshi wants to make sure there's no risk of you getting sick again, and to be honest, he pampers you a little extra, too.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Girl On Fire 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

You don’t know why you’re trying. Why you’ve marked the day on the calendar. Loki’s coming home but nothing’s going to change. Still, there’s a glimmer of hope inside of you that wants him to prove you wrong. 

So it is that you wake up early with a list of to-dos and to-gets. You have a plan. That makes the days a bit easier. When you have something to do, you don’t have time to think. 

You think maybe if your husband comes home to a nice dinner and a tidy home, he might have some epiphany. He might realise he likes it better there then on the road. He might just see what’s been right in front of this the whole time. He might even remember the vows he spoke a decade ago. 

What happened? When did he forget? When did you become an afterthought? 

No, you won’t be. Not forever. He’s just overworked. He’s busy. He has a lot going on. He can’t pay for your lifestyle sitting at home. Get over it. Get over yourself. 

You grab your purse and head out. You have a list. You’re going to make his favourite dish; sesame crusted salmon. You’re no Michelan start chef but you know a few tricks. It feels good to have a purpose, to have something ahead of you. And it will be nice to eat more than the microwave noodle bowls you’ve been living off of. 

You ignore the dirt littered across your walk as you clutch the reusable bags in your fist. You’ll fix that before he gets back. He won’t know the difference. Hell, if you dug up the whole strip, he might not even notice. 

You try not to fixate on it. That’s your problem. You latch onto things and they just build and build until they boil over. You’re a mess. It’s like he always said, you hold onto stuff. You just can’t let anything go. 

The grocery store is busy. The cramped aisles add to your impatience as you search out each ingredient. Why does that woman need to have her cart right there? Why does that man keep inching closer as you’re searching the spice shelf? Back off! 

You join the queue to check out, feeling worse for having made the trip. All the people have you amped up and anxious. People are always so stressful. Why is that customer bitching at the cashier about an expired coupon? They don’t care, they make minimum wage. 

You make sure to offer a smile to the overworked staff. You were once one of them. Loki likes to remind you of that when he remembers you exist. Nope, don’t do that. This isn’t about the past. You’re going to have a lovely dinner and talk and laugh and... try. 

Yeah, you thought the same thing last month. And the month before. 

Your optimism is waning as you come out with your bags over overpriced ingredients. Every time you go shopping, you swear it’s more expensive than the last. You tuck the bags behind the seat and brace yourself for the drive home. The clogged parking lot gives you little hope for a smooth ride. 

The traffic mellows as you reach the suburbs and you slow down and take each speed bump with caution. Children run after each other or walk with parents. You don’t know if you want any but Loki’s not really offering up the chance. His fleeting touches don’t offer much more than his own satisfaction. 

You turn into your drive and rub your lower back as you lift the bags out of the car. You push the door shut with your hip and turn, stutter stepping in place. Something’s different. Your flowers! 

The white and pink tulips are still lost to the squirrel’s mischief but in their place are new stems. Blue petals standing tall. You glance across the street then back again. You’ll have to go over and thank Jonathan. He really didn’t have to do that. 

You’re almost teary-eyed as you get inside. It’s just something small. It’s not that big but it feels like the world. He thought of you. Someone thought of you. 

Were you that pathetic? To go to that effort just to replace some flowers, you must’ve made quite the tragic scene. Suddenly, you’re not so eager to show your gratitude. 

You put everything away and make your way through your list. You check the clock between chores. Scrub the stove, clean the dishes, mop the floors; do everything you neglected in your husband’s absence for your bouts of tears and lazy nights of reading romance novels until you pass out. 

As the hours pass, you feel your stomach fluttering. You’re almost excited to see him. Loki’s coming home and you’re going to make it special for him. And you’re going to ask him that big question. Do you think you could stay home for a bit? 

It’s fear as much as it is excitement. It’s not like you haven’t thought to ask it before. The answer is clear. Each time he leaves, it’s for a little longer. He always tells you the same thing; he has to pay his dues, he has to show that he can do the job. 

Not this time. If he’s not going to change, then you have to. If he won’t stay home, then you’re going to start looking for a job so he can. If you bring in money, then he can’t hold his wallet over your head. Worse comes to worse, it’s a way out. 

Makeup done, hair too, your best dress on, the food is cooking, the house is fragrant with savoury aromas, and you’ve timed it all perfect. It’s almost five. His flight was supposed to get in half and hour ago. 

Your phone vibrates.  You grab your cell from the table by the front door where you left it to charge. It’s him! 

A text. Not a call, just a text. You tap the screen and read it eagerly. Your shoulders drop and you drop your phone. 

‘Won’t be home til ten. Business dinner in town. Big client.’ 

Worse than the disappointment is what he doesn’t say. No ‘love you’, no heart emoji, not even an apology. Just the facts. Just another excuse. 

You don’t respond. What’s the point? You don’t even know why he messaged. You should be flattered that he even bothered. 

You shake your head and drop the phone on the screen. You should’ve expected this. Maybe you did. Maybe you get some sort of thrill out of the rejection. 

The oven beeps. Just in time. You go and take the pan out, silencing the alarm with your thumb. You toss the fish onto the stove and spin away. You want to scream but you just don’t have the energy. You march back to the doorway and stop yourself. 

You take a deep breath and push it all down. The rice is done. You turn it off and the veggies are glistening perfectly. You might not be a professional but damn it looks good. 

You take a glass container from the cupboard and carefully begin to transfer the portions. You make up two full meals. You were precise in your measurements, sure not waste a morsel. You seal the lids and the walls fog up. You stack them and carry them down the hall. 

You steel yourself as you pass through the front door and keep your chin high. The tulips sway gently in the early evening breeze. You get to the curb and muster a smile. You cross and march up to Hattie’s house. The old woman has been reclusive of late but by her nephew’s report, you can assume why. 

You go to the front door and ring the bell. Your stomach is churning again, in a much different way. You wait, doubt rising with each second. You’re about to turn away when Jonathan answers the door. He’s just as you remember; strangely familiar but refreshingly not. 

You swallow and stamp your smile in place, “I just wanted to say thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely.” 

You hold out the containers and his brows rise, “oh, you didn’t need to do all this.” He takes them, his warm fingers brushing against yours, “that’s so nice. And it wasn’t any trouble. It was getting crowded in the garden.” 

“The least I can do,” you insist. 

“Don’t you look wonderful? Special occasion?” He looks you up and down. When’s the last time a man did that? 

“Oh, uh, no... not anymore,” you look away, “anyway, I hope you enjoy. Salmon, jasmine rice, and some roasted veg. Nothing very special.” 

“Ah, but it is,” he says, “unfortunately, my aunt’s already abed and she has a very strict diet,” he intones, “so... would you like to join me? I’m afraid it’s all too much for just me.” 

He raises the containers and examines them. You’re too embarrassed to admit what’s happened. It would also be insulting to admit the food isn’t even meant for him. 

“I’ve some wine that would pair nicely with fish,” he continues, “and good company.” 

You consider his offer as you peek over your shoulder. Your house looks ominous like a horror movie. Empty and dark. There's nothing for you there. You face him again. 

“I’d love to.” 

[keru0]

Tickletober 2024

Day 3: Reward

Lee!Thoma x Ler!Ayato

IM FINALLY NOT SICK!! And I'm stupid and never queue fics mhich means I'll be posting 3 prompts a day until i catch up (2ish days i think?)!! Anyways, this one was fun to write, I love these two idiots.

Quick warning for sugge$tive themes!!

==========================================

“I won, Thoma~” A certain commissioner purred, leaning into another certain retainer at Komore Teahouse, the strawberry-blond fighting the urge to regurgitate whatever the hell it was he just put in his mouth. 

“M-my Lord, what was that?!” He said aghast, a grimace on his green face as he downed the blue-haired man’s sweet-tasting boba.

“Oh, just some lavender melon mixed with sauerkraut from your homeland…and some slime concentrate.” Ayato smirked, biting his lip to hide his urge to giggle at his lover’s repulsed expression.

“Ugh, Archons why- why would you mix those together?!” He asked with wide eyes and a hand covering his mouth, an astonished laugh leaving his lips as he did so.

“Because it’s supposed to be a challenge, Thoma. There’s nothing challenging about eating a normal hotpot.” He chuckled, rubbing the other’s rumbling stomach through his thin black t-shirt. “Now, I’m the winner, so~”

“Yeah, yeah, you want your reward…” Thoma sighed with a fond smile, a blush already creeping over his cheeks. “Where this time, Ayato?”

The man in question took his sweet time deciding that very important question. Last week he raked his nails over the other’s feet for quite a while, just a few days ago he tormented the other’s pits for almost half an hour, and last night he paid much attention to his muscular thighs. Now, though, he wanted to see his toned muscles – it was quite rare for the commissioner to be able to spend a good amount of time with them other than during activities that were far more risque. “Shirt off, Thoma~” He sang, kissing the other’s cheek.

Thoma sighed, the blush on his face deepening as he shrugged off his outerwear before beginning to peel off the tight shirt, his lover watching intently, biting his lip as he watched the show.

Tossing his wardrobe to the side, the shorter man laid across Ayato’s lap, a hand clutching the fancy robe he wore as the reddening skin creeped down to his chest, his master laughing fondly.

“Why are you always so shy, Thoma? You have an amazing body – nothing to be ashamed about, that’s for sure. Besides, I’ve seen far more-”

“E-enough!” Thoma shouted, covering his face with his hands and groaned. “Just get it over with already.”

The Yashiro commissioner laid a hand on the toned muscle of the soft stomach in his lap, running his hand back and forth to feel the soft skin, as well as the few scars littered here and there. “Oh no, I plan on taking my sweet time, thank you very much. It’s rare to see you this vulnerable.” He chuckled, taking one of Thoma’s hands to kiss the back of it. “Now…”

And then he attacked, his well kept nails lightly fluttering and scratching over the muscles, the man counted each individual one as he did so. “So strong!” He praised, “Onnne, twooo, three…”

The blond was a giggling mess almost immediately, hands slammed onto his blushing face in order to hide from his tormentor. “Ahahahyatohoho! Dohohon’t tehehehease!” He whined.

“But you’re so adorable! And handsome. And strong. And pretty and beautiful.” Ayato never let up, punctuating each statement with a tweak to the other’s side as he laughed along with him fondly. Surely this little reward wouldn’t last more than fifteen minutes, but then again, no one’s keeping track of the time – definitely not Ayato, at least.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

because I’m a greedy ho, may I also request:

the hands. on the waist. oh my god.

with Neyo 👀🫣 do not perceive me pls

A/N: My friend. When I tell you that this awoke me out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night last night. I instantly bumped it to the top of the queue. Who has deadlines? NOT THIS SIMP! Please enjoy, and thank you for the ask!

Pairing: Commander Neyo x Reader (GN)

Rating: T but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 1,556

Warnings and tags: fluff; minor injury; mention of blood; kissing; Neyo identifies as a warning

Summary: Marshal Commander Neyo takes his favorite medic for a ride. It’s not as sexy as it sounds… or is it?

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Commander, we’ve lost contact with CT-2639 on the eastern perimeter.”

Marshal Commander Neyo swiveled his head, pulling away from your hands as you cleaned the cut on his forehead. Head wounds always bled like a mudscuffer, and this one had made an unbelievable mess, but it wasn’t severe enough to be life-threatening. You silently followed his movement, continuing to work as Neyo replied to the trooper.

“Send a BARC trooper to reinforce his position,” Neyo snapped, clearly irritated that the situation had not already been handled several rungs down the command ladder.

“They’re all out on scouting missions, sir,” the trooper said nervously.

Neyo nodded shortly, then turned back to you. “You, medic. Grab a medkit. You’re coming with me.”

It galled you slightly that he hadn’t bothered to learn your name, even though he had refused to allow any of the other medics in the 91st treat him since the first time you’d patched him up months ago, but given that he was one of the highest-ranking clones in the GAR, you weren’t about to call him out.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, quickly sealing the laceration with a spray bandage. Luckily, you were nearly finished treating him before the trooper had interrupted; otherwise, you had no doubt the commander would have simply shoved his bucket back onto his bloody head and jumped on a BARC speeder.

You shrugged the heavy medpack onto your back and followed Neyo to a BARC speeder with an auxiliary stretcher, watching him nervously, dread swirling in your gut.

“Well?” he asked, his tone clipped and impatient.

“I’m not speeder trained, sir. Sorry, sir,” you admitted, hoping that he wouldn’t reassign you to a different unit as he tended to do when his subordinates weren’t up to his frankly unrealistic standards.

His sigh was audible through his helmet’s speaker. “Climb on the back.”

“Sir?” you asked, startled. It was going to be one hell of a tight fit on a speeder designed for one.

“Secure the medpack to the bike and get the kriff on,” he growled. “We don’t have all day.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, snapping rigidly to attention.

You squeezed in behind him, trying very hard not to think about the way his hips pressed your thighs open, or the way his strong back felt against your chest as you wrapped your arms around him and hung on for dear life. The BARC speeder was unbelievably fast, and the landscape whizzed by in a dizzying blur as Neyo expertly navigated to CT-2639’s last known position. The bike turned abruptly, and you unconsciously tightened your arms harder around his torso. He dropped his hand briefly from the controls and settled it over yours, adjusting your position so you gripped his belt instead of the slick plastoid of his chestplate, then raised it back to the handlebar.

The bike slowed as you approached your destination, sweeping the terrain for any sign of the missing sentry. A flash of white and red plastoid at the bottom of a ravine drew Neyo’s eye.

“There.”

The speeder came to a halt, and you jumped off, grabbing the medpack and running to the downed trooper. He was unconscious, but his vitals were strong enough—for the moment—and Neyo helped you stabilize his spine as you carefully transferred and secured the patient to the stretcher on the side of the BARC.

“Bike isn’t powerful enough to carry three,” Neyo said as he mounted the speeder.

You nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir. I’ll make my way back on foot. He needs more care than I can give him here, and the base medics are equipped for it.”

“Negative. Hold position here. I’ll send someone to extract you.”

“Yes, sir.” You hesitated, and Neyo looked up at you, his helmet blocking his expression—not that you’d ever been particularly good at reading the commander’s cold, hard eyes. “What’s his name?”

Neyo was silent for a beat. “Boey.” His helmet tilted as he surveyed you from head to toe, as if suddenly realizing he was about to ditch you in an active war zone without armor or weapons. He handed you his DC-15 and climbed back onto the speeder. “Try not to get killed.”

Luckily, no battle droids appeared to ruin your day. You didn’t have to wait long before you heard the whine of a speeder approaching your position, but you were surprised to see not one, but two BARCs appear, and one of them was the commander himself. He drew to a halt, and you immediately surrendered the blaster to him. The other trooper looked back and forth between you and Neyo, but stayed silent.

“Boey?” you asked.

“He’ll make it,” Neyo replied, sliding forward to make space for you. “Get on.”

You obeyed, feeling very thankful that it was a short trip to the base as you once again straddled Neyo’s hips and tried to think unsexy thoughts. 

For kriff’s sake, he doesn’t even know my name. He’s kind of a dick. Why am I like this? Maybe when he reassigns me for not having achieved every single karking qualification in the GAR, I’ll end up in the 212th—if I’m going to have an unprofessional and inappropriate crush on a superior officer, Commander Cody seems like a nice, safe choice. Why do I always seem to go for the dicks? Some mysteries may never be solved.

Neyo started up the speeder and took off at top speed, leaving the other BARC trooper behind to secure the position. Unfortunately for your sanity, it seemed that Neyo had decided to inspect the entire perimeter, because there was no sign of the base anywhere, and the ride seemed interminable. As you gradually became accustomed to the speed of the bike, you tore your eyes away from the center of his back and began to look around at the landscape as you hurtled through the air.

It was actually a beautiful planet, when there wasn’t an active battle going on. Neyo drew the bike to a halt at the edge of a cliff with a stunning view out over the lush forest. He pulled off his helmet and set it on the bike, then dismounted, holding out his hand to assist you off the speeder.

When you met his eyes, they were as hard, cold, and unreadable as ever, and you couldn’t help wondering if he’d decided to just dropkick you off the cliff instead of bothering with the hassle of reassignment paperwork. Well, if this view was the last thing you ever saw, you couldn’t deny that it was breathtaking.

“What is this place?” you asked, unable to keep the awe out of your voice.

“Western perimeter. Cliff provides a natural defense.”

You looked down over the cliff and immediately regretted your decision, feeling dizzy and lightheaded at the distance to the bottom. You swayed dangerously, and Neyo grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back from the edge, your back colliding with his armored chest.

“Damn, that’s a… hell of a drop,” you managed to say. 

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, his voice low and close to your ear.

You couldn’t resist asking, “Is this where you dispose of medics who don’t know how to ride speeders?” 

“What?” You felt his head turn as he observed you closely. “Why the kriff would I expect a medic to be BARC speeder certified? Do you know how much training BARC troopers have?”

You cleared your throat, trying not to dwell on how very, very close he was; or the deep, quiet rumble of his voice next to your ear; or the way his hands still rested on your waist. “So… you’re not going to reassign me?”

“I should,” he said quietly.

Your heart plummeted and your stomach twisted. You stared down at the ground in front of you, desperately trying to hide your embarrassment and disappointment.

One of his hands slid forward, flattening over your belly and pulling your body back against him. You felt the rough fabric of his glove move softly across your jaw as he tilted your face toward him with his other hand. His thumb brushed your lips, and then his hand drifted down to rest at the base of your throat, your pulse racing wildly beneath the gentle pressure.

“I shouldn’t—” His lips were so close to yours that you felt his breath ghost over your skin as he spoke. “—with a subordinate…”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from his mouth. It was all you could see as you whispered, “You’re a marshal commander. Everyone is your subordinate.”

He drew a shallow breath, but made no move to close the tiny distance between you. The moment stretched out unbearably, until at last you could no longer resist the temptation. The tip of your tongue barely grazed the corner of his mouth before he snapped, crashing his lips into yours, clutching your body against his as though, if he only held you tightly enough, he could feel your warmth through the cold, unyielding plastoid of his armor. He kissed you with a passion that left you breathless and reeling, and when at last his lips parted from yours, he nuzzled your face gently as he whispered your name.

“Wait…” you breathed. “You know my name?”

For the first time since you’d met him, Neyo smiled. “I’ve always known.”

---

Want some spicy Neyo content? Check out my fics Everybody Hates Neyo Part 1 and Part 2!

[feroshgirlsims]

Housekeeping Stuff (for once in my life)

Listen, I've been stalking simblrs, and I am in awe of some people's navigations. Like truly, some of y'all are goals! I didn't really know what I was doing at first, so my hashtags and organization are a bit of a mess. I was used to long-form on WordPress, so trying to figure out how to make that work here while experimenting with some new styles (like captions) has been awesome as hell but hard.

Not to mention, I'm rotating through a whole save file for inspiration, so I was really struggling with how best to capture everything without completely losing the plot of the main storyline I'm trying to focus on.

BUT I DIGRESS (WHY DO I TALK TO SO MUCH MY GOD)

My point is that I'm cleaning up my navigation, hashtags, and labels. I've got three main "story posts":

Main Story (The Save File Chronicles): These are long-form chapters based on the POV of a set group of characters that I release in parts as regularly as my gremlin brain will allow. Right now, that's Alice, Vlad, Miko, William, and Akira.

Subplot (Current: The Devil Went Down to the Magic Realm): This is a single side story that runs parallel to the main plot. It may feature different "households" but it is only one storyline. These posts come in between the main chapters. You can skip them, but they give insight into all the stuff the main characters are reacting to (or not reacting to bc they don't know about it 😈)

Side Stories: Basically, the equivalent of checking in on a household. Side stories are not linked in the main story navigation, but they might end up linked in a reference if they become relevant as canon. Otherwise, it's just me faffing around, lol.

Anyways, IDK why I needed to blab about this, but I did. I've got three chapters in the queue, but I want to organize my shit before I post them. Um, here, have a spoiler image as a reward for listening: