#slower as in. paying more attention to detail

[wordsofwhimsy]

ᴄᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʚ♡ɞ

Pairing: Lenless [No Goggles]!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Fucking fiiiilth, smut bitches!!!

Tags: Threats of violence including self harm, absolutely toxic behavior, reader matching his freak in the worst way

Word Count: 2,814

Inspiration: “None of Ur Friends Business” – Ginuwine

Synopsis: Your dangerously unhinged not-boyfriend threatens to “take care” of the friends of yours that keep trying to pull you away from him, and you are having none of it. literally a crazy stand-off

a/n: you know i had to jump on it after this anon message!! god he’s such a damn psychopath, need that 🤪

His hands are warm—too warm—palming your waist like he owns it. The soft press of his mouth against yours is hungry but practiced, like he’s done this in his head a thousand times and tonight he’s just filling in the details.

You’re trying to stay focused. Trying not to melt into him completely. But his knee is nudged between your thighs and your hands are fisted in his shirt and—God—he smells like the night. Wind and sweat and danger.

And he feels it. The shift.

Mark pulls back just barely, his breath brushing against your lips. “What?”

You blink up at him, chest rising and falling too fast. “I… I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He laughs—low, sharp, a little breathless. “You say that with your hands still on me.”

You pull back further, guilt blooming under your skin. “It’s not me. My friends… they don’t think I should be around you.”

Mark’s eyes flicker, and something inside them cracks. Not anger. Not surprise. Something worse. That slow, dangerous amusement he gets when he’s too far gone to care.

“Ohhh,” he says, sitting back on his heels, still straddling your legs. “Them.”

You shift, tugging the hem of your shirt down, suddenly too aware of how vulnerable you are underneath him.

“They think you’re… I don’t know, unstable,” you murmur. “That I’m not thinking straight when I’m with you.”

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s already solved. “And are they wrong?” You hesitate. His grin widens. “Didn’t think so.”

“Mark…”

He leans down again, slower this time, arms caging you in as his voice drops to a whisper. “You think they know what this is? What we are?”

Your heart stutters. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your jaw. “They don’t get a say.”

“You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” His eyes meet yours. Calm. Controlled. Unsettling. “Because I don’t care what they think. And you don’t either, not really.”

You shake your head, but it’s weak. Your resistance is paper-thin and he knows it.

“They don’t know what it’s like when you look at me like that,” Mark mutters, voice velvet-dark, “like you want me and hate yourself for it.” You swallow hard, trying to find your footing in a conversation that’s already sinking fast.

“They’re just looking out for me,” you say, weaker than you mean to.

Mark hums, dragging his fingers up your thigh like he’s barely paying attention—which only makes it worse.

“Yeah? Then maybe they should spend less time worrying about you and more time fixing their own messes.” His tone is too casual. Too cutting.

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looks at you like it’s obvious. Like he’s been holding back and is just now getting bored of pretending.

“Let’s start with Lauren,” he says, like he’s choosing a weapon. “She’s real concerned about your well-being for someone who’s still sleeping with her ex behind her current boyfriend’s back.”

You freeze.

“And Maya?” He laughs under his breath. “She’s got a lot to say about how ‘toxic’ I am for a girl who gets blackout drunk just to forget she texts her therapist at 3am.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, grinning, like he’s telling you a secret. “They don’t care about you. They just don’t want you to have something they don’t have.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, voice dropping low and dangerous.

“Especially your girl Sadie.” His eyes are locked on yours now, completely still. “The way she looks at me?”

Your breath catches.

Mark's lips curve into something that’s almost a smirk, but there's something sharp underneath. “So obvious. Like she wants me to look at her the way I look at you. Like she’d lose her mind if I touched her the way I touch you.”

Your skin prickles. “You’re imagining things.”

He chuckles, and the sound is mean. “You really think I don’t notice? She doesn’t even breathe when I walk into a room. Like she’s hoping I’ll slip and touch her by accident.”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow and lazy. “But I won’t. You know why?”

You’re quiet.

He leans in, mouth just brushing your ear. “Because she’s not you.”

You shove at his chest—not hard, but sharp enough to get the message across. “You’re such an asshole.”

Mark barely moves. Just blinks, lazy and slow, like a cat watching its prey squirm.

“Yeah,” he says. “And?”

You sit up, untangling yourself from under him, heart pounding. “You don’t get to talk about them like that. They’re my friends, Mark.”

He watches you now, eyes darkening. The grin slips, just slightly.

“They’re hypocrites,” he says coolly. “They don’t like me because I don’t kiss ass and pretend I’m something I’m not. And you—” He leans in before you can react, voice low and dangerous. “—you like that about me.”

You flinch back. “You don’t know what I like.”

He scoffs. “Don’t I?”

His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist—not hard, not painful, but firm. Controlled. You freeze.

“That little act you pull?” he says, head tilting. “Like you’re just so confused, like you don’t know if this is right?” His thumb brushes your pulse. “It’s bullshit. You keep coming back. You let me touch you. You want me here.”

Your stomach flips, anger warring with the way your skin burns under his touch.

“I want you gone,” you whisper. He laughs again, and this time it’s ugly. Sharp and disbelieving.

“No, you don’t.” He shifts closer, crowding into your space again. “You’re mad because I said what you’re too scared to admit. That your friends aren’t saints. That Sadie wants me. That deep down, you love the fact that she can’t have me.”

“Mark—”

“You want me all to yourself. And you hate that you do.”

You yank your arm back. “You’re insane.”

He smiles. There’s no denial. No apology.

“You knew that when you let me in your bed.”

You stare at him, heart pounding, jaw clenched so tight it hurts.

“You’re sick,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You think this is normal?”

Mark doesn’t even blink.

“No,” he says easily. “But I think it’s honest.”

You push at him again, harder this time. He lets you—for now. You scramble off the bed, putting distance between you like that could somehow make this safer. Make him safer.

“I’m done,” you say, trying to sound stronger than you feel. “This was a mistake.” He tilts his head, eyes tracking your every move like he’s amused by the performance.

“I really don’t like how much they distract you,” he says, tone casual—too casual. “Your friends.” You go still. Mark’s gaze sharpens. “Always in your ear. Telling you what to think. What to feel. Pulling you away from me.”

“Don’t,” you say, voice rising. “Don’t go there—”

“I’m just saying,” he cuts in, standing now, slow and unbothered. “Maybe it’d be easier if they were gone.”

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Mark shrugs. “Just a thought. Clean slate. No distractions. Just you and me.”

Your mouth opens—no sound comes out. You swallow, steady yourself, and find your voice. “You don’t mean that,” you whisper. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

His smile is all teeth. “Why would I want to scare you?” He starts to cross the room toward you and you instinctively step back. “I like you,” he says softly. “I don’t want to scare you. I want to protect you. And if that means getting rid of people who are bad for you…”

He trails off, as if he’s genuinely thinking it over. “…then maybe it’s not that crazy.”

“If you touch a single hair on their heads,” you hiss, “I swear to God, you will never get to touch me again.”

Mark goes still for a second, like he’s processing that, weighing it. Then he scoffs. Loud. Dismissive. Cruel. “You think you can stop me?” he says, stepping forward with that wolfish grin. “If I want you—” His voice drops an octave, sickly sweet, almost a purr. “—I’ll just take you.”

And in one motion, without flinching, without breaking eye contact, your hand shoots out to your desk. The cold metal of the scissors hits your palm.

Mark’s smile falters as you lift them up, pressing the tip against your own throat. Just hard enough to leave a mark. Just long enough to make your point.

“I will literally end it right here,” you hiss, voice shaking with fury—not fear. “Do not fuck with me.”

Silence.

Heavy. Dense.

Mark stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you. Like you just flipped some internal switch he didn’t know existed.

His chest rises, then falls—slow. Controlled.

“…Whoa,” he breathes.

You press the blade in just slightly deeper, enough to make his jaw clench.

“I’m not your little toy,” you snap. “You don’t own me. You don’t get to hurt the people I care about just because you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” you spit. “You are absolutely obsessed. And I’ve let you get away with it because you’re hot and you kiss like you invented sin, but I swear to God, Mark—”

You jab the scissors toward him now, and he flinches. The grin is gone. He’s listening.

“You pull one more psycho stunt, and I’m gone. Not just gone—I will erase myself from your life so fast, it’ll make that little broken brain of yours crack in half.”

He blinks. Then runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little like he doesn’t know whether to be angry, aroused, or in awe.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

You lower the scissors, your voice cool and even.

“Takes one to know one.”

Mark just stares at you. Breathing hard. Jaw clenched. That frayed little thread of control he was holding onto? It’s gone. Burned up in the fire between you.

And you—you’re still gripping the scissors. Chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon straight through hell.

“You are,” he says finally, voice low, wrecked. “So out of your fucking mind.”

You toss the scissors onto the desk with a loud clatter.

“Guess you finally met your match.”

He takes one slow, deliberate step toward you. Then another. Eyes locked on yours like he’s looking at the only thing in the world that makes sense anymore.

“You’d really do it,” he mutters, half-laughing. “You’d die just to spite me.”

You blink once. “And you’d kill for me.”

He stops right in front of you now, inches away. His smile is wild. Reverent.

“I’d kill for you,” he echoes, voice rough and quiet, “and you’d die just to spite me.”

A beat passes. Then another.

And it snaps.

He grabs your face with both hands like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, crashing his mouth into yours with zero hesitation—hungry, desperate, possessive. Like he’s been waiting forever to kiss you like this and now he’s afraid someone might take it away.

You kiss him back just as hard.

There’s no hesitation left. No doubts. Just teeth and hands and ragged breath, both of you pulling like you’ll tear the other apart. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, fisting in your shirt like he’s anchoring himself.

You gasp into his mouth, tugging at his hair, and he groans like it’s killing him.

“I need this,” he pants against your lips. “Right now.”

You nod, forehead against his, eyes burning.

“Then take it.”

That’s all he needs.

Mark doesn’t hesitate—his mouth crashes back onto yours like gravity just stopped working and you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. One hand fists in your hair while the other slides down, grabs the back of your thigh and lifts, walking you backward like he owns the floor you’re stepping on.

You’re on the bed in seconds. Breathless. Legs parting before you can think, just to feel him there, all heat and muscle and sharp, chaotic want.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, dragging his mouth down your throat. “You threaten me with scissors and then tell me to fuck you—what the hell is wrong with you?”

Your hands claw at his shirt, yanking it up over his head.

“I learned it from you, asshole.”

He laughs—dark and low, mouth brushing your collarbone. “Guess I’m a good influence after all.”

And then he’s everywhere.

His hands are rough, impatient, sliding under your shirt, dragging it up like he can’t get to your skin fast enough. Lips on your chest, your stomach, leaving bruises he wants you to see later. Mark is marking you—no pun intended—like it’s instinct, like he needs people to know whose you are the second they see you.

Your touching him back, his skin is hot under your hands—like he’s burning from the inside out, like if you peeled him open you’d find wildfire and want. His mouth doesn’t just kiss—it consumes, dragging over your skin like he’s trying to eat the memory of your friends, your doubts, your resistance. Like he wants to own every piece of you you’ve ever tried to keep from him.

You feel his smirk when you gasp, when your legs wrap tighter around his waist, dragging him closer. You’re not even sure who started it anymore. You can’t remember who kissed who first. Just that it was inevitable.

“You like this,” he growls against your throat, lips brushing just under your jaw as his fingers trail lower, dragging over your ribs like he’s memorizing them.

You try to sound strong. You try to bite it back.

But the sound you make when his hand slides between your legs? It’s not strong. It’s needy.

Mark fucking shudders.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re soaked.”

“Shut up,” you snap, flushed and breathless. He laughs, and the sound vibrates through you.

His mouth ghosts over your nipple, tongue flicking, teasing. He pulls your underwear down slow, smirking when you arch into him.

His teeth sink into your thigh, just enough to leave a mark, and he groans like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear you say that. And when he finally slides into you, it’s with a low, rough growl—like it takes everything in him not to lose it then and there.

You’re so full, so tight, so perfectly wrong for each other it makes your eyes roll back.

His hips grind deep, hard, like he’s trying to bury himself somewhere beneath your skin. He’s panting in your ear, messy and raw, fingers tangled in your hair while yours scratch down his spine hard enough to leave tracks.

He likes it. You can feel it in the way his pace stutters, the way he moans—raw and low and real.

“I could ruin you,” he gasps against your lips. “You know that?”

“You already did,” you breathe.

And that’s it. That’s when he snaps.

He grabs your thigh, hikes it higher, and slams into you with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The headboard cracks against the wall, but neither of you care. The room is nothing. The world is nothing.

Just this.

Just him.

Just you.

Your moans turn to sobs, his name ripped from your throat like a confession. “Harder,” you whisper against his neck.

He doesn’t hold back.

Your bodies move like war and worship—teeth clashing, breath tangling, sweat slicking your skin. Every thrust is a promise and a threat.

You moan his name and he mutters, “Say it again.”

“Mark—”

“Louder.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine.”

You don’t disagree.

He’s everywhere.

He’s everything.

And when you cum—shaking, gasping, half-crying—he watches you like he’s witnessing something holy. Like he’s the one being touched by God.

“Mine,” he pants, grinding deeper, chasing his own release. “You’re mine, you’re fucking mine—”

And when he finishes, it’s with a broken, desperate groan, spilling into you like he’s giving you a piece of his soul and doesn’t care what you do with it.

Breathless silence.

Only the sound of your heaving chests, sweaty limbs tangled, skin burning.

Mark buries his face in your neck. His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. “…You scare the shit out of me.”

You grin weakly, fingers threading through his hair. “Good.”

-------------

Part Two - Brunch Edition!

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt.4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 1,862

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Sevika recognized your skills and abilities, you were an intelligent and astute bastard in an environment that being pretty was related to being naive. You knew how to use your looks to your advantage and enchant people with your words, your charisma and your talent. What was your talent? The mechanics, specifically the mechanics with Shimmer. You knew how to use the drug to your advantage, manufacture the best pieces by combining the quality of your products with the functional guarantee of shimmer. You managed to earn loyal customers who were looking for high quality prostheses, weapons and even… other types of products. You were a versatile inventor and Zaunites appreciated it. You came to the Last Drop for that particular reason that night, Sevika had summoned you for a check of her mechanical arm and a certainly special commission. You pushed your way through the crowd, the smell of alcohol and Shimmer in the air, and looked for the tall woman. You spotted her at the back, sitting with three other individuals, gambling with a cigarette between her lips and a confident smile curving them.

"Good night, Sev." You greeted, to which the woman put her attention on you, exhaling the smoke from her cigarette.

"Well, well, well... You're earlier than usual." She replied, gesturing you over. "Come; I have something to discuss with you."

Sevika shooed her gambling companions, her attention focused on you and on that brown overall that you wore at every maintenance meeting. You used to unbutton the top, revealing your arms and torso in a tank top and accentuating your waist. Certainly the fact that you were sweet to Sevika's eyes made the meetings with you more pleasant.

Sevika poured you a glass of whiskey. "Two ice cubes, and with a little soda, as you like." Said the woman, having learned your preferences after two years working for her. You put the toolbox on the table, the exclusive place where you were gave you some privacy and calm to work.

"I see that you remember my whims." You smiled, sitting down.

She pushed the glass towards you, watching you sit down. "Of course I do - I pay attention to detail." Her eyes scanned your attire, taking a quick drag of her cigarette. "You look good, as usual."

"I won't discount for flirting." You teased, leaning back against the cushions with a smug smile.

"It wasn't a flirt." She replied, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm simply making an observation."

"You either flirt or fight, don't fuck with me." You smiled, sipping your glass. "The arm's acting up again?" You asked, aiming at her mechanical left arm.

"Yeah, it's been giving me a pain in the ass." She replied, rolling her left shoulder. "Not acting like it should; slower than usual."

"Mhm, tell me more." You asked, already putting the glass down to lean and start observing the prosthetic arm.

"It's been slower to respond to movements - and the strength has been weakened. It's also... overheating a little more often than usual."

'Overheating? It must be time for a thermal paste change." You assured, taking a screwdriver to start disarming the arm. "How's the shimmer working?"

Sevika rested her arm on the tabletop for you as you got to work.

"Shimmer supply is fine - no change there." She replied. There was a noticeable difference in the movement of her arm compared to the last checkup. "But I've been feeling a little... on edge lately. Shimmer usually doesn't affect me much with its side-effects... but..."

"Mhm?"

"I've been more irritable, frustrated." She replied, watching you closely. "It's like some kind of... primal urge of something."

"Huh. You sure it's the shimmer's fault?" You asked, you couldn't contain a smile. "Or maybe you need to visit the brothel more often."

"Trust me, I've been to the Pleasure House plenty of times." She responded playfully. "But you know damn well it's not the same thing."

"Huh, really? I thought you had your fair share of girls that could satisfy you."

It was no secret that Sevika was a regular customer in the red light district of Zaun, quite mentioned in the conversations among the people for being a fairly skilled woman in bed. Much more was said about Sevika than her lethality and character, her stamina in sex was mentioned, her fondness for the most vocal women, without preference between slim and chubby, but always testing the resistance of her bed partners. She's tireless said the hookers who had provided their services to her. And with the sexual appetite of a person like Sevika, the task of satisfying her was arduous.

"Oh trust me - they satisfy me, alright." She replied, her voice huskier. "But that's not what I need." She exhaled another plume of smoke. "I need to dominate someone."

"Geez." You stopped working on her arm, you rose your brows. "Getting honest, are we?"

"Only with you." Sevika replied, keeping her eyes on you. "You're one of the few people in Zaun I tolerate."

"Well, I don't think the arm has anything to do with your... sexual frustrations." You stated. "Actually, as soon as I change the thermal paste and grease the joints, your arm will work as usual."

You worked carefully on her arm, noticing the slight tremor in Sevika's right hand.

"I think you're overdoing Shimmer again." You said, unscrewing the last part to unclasp the prosthetic arm and pull it off. You laid it carefully on the table, continuing with your work. Sevika didn't complain, she trusted you enough to end up armless before you.

"That's rich coming from you. You probably have shimmer running through your veins right now."

"Huh." You smirked. "Too much work, too little energy." You excused yourself.

"I guess I can forgive you this time." She responded, watching you work with her prosthetic. "Besides, I need you to focus. I have a commission for you."

"A commission?" Your ears perked up, taking a sip of your drink. "Alright, I'm listening."

"I need you to make me something... special." She said, her voice low and huskier. "Do you think you can manage that?"

You scoffed. "What, a pipe?" You teased, but Sevika's answer dropped your jaw.

"A strap." She replied, her eyes slowly roaming over you. "Can you make one?"

You rose your eyebrows, certainly it wasn't the first strap-on you would make but it would be the first for Sevika. Many inhabitants of Zaun asked for prostheses or toys, you were a good manufacturer and your talent with the shimmer made your pieces reliable and high quality, but you certainly did not expect this type of request from Sevika.

You swallowed. "Sure, sure. I can." You said, your gaze fixed on the prosthetic arm.

"Good." She leaned back in her chair, taking another drag of her cigarette before continuing. "There are a few... specifications I want for it."

"I'm listening." you mumbled, annoyed with the way your cheeks blushed.

"7.5 inches, and it must have ridges along the shaft." She said, casually taking a drag of her cigarette. "Textured veins are preferable. Will you need a cast for that? I have a..." She shifted, pulling out a small pouch filled with coins - a small 'advance payment' for your services.

"A cast?" You asked. Your eyes were exorbitant before the coins that protruded from the bag, it was a good pay. Sevika never asked for discounts for your work, she knew it was worth every penny. "I mean, I don't really know any man I can use for a cast." You said sheepishly.

"You know you can get any Zaunite with a coin here." She teased. "Find a willing candidate - I'm sure it won't be too hard."

You were flabbergasted. "Are you suggesting me to hire someone to take a cast of his cock?" You asked with a subtle blush on your cheeks.

"I'm not suggesting, I'm telling you to." She replied, taking another drag of her cigarette. "This is a commission, and I'm paying you generously for it. You'll find a taker - I know you're a sweet talker when you need to be."

"I can't believe this." You sighed sharply.

"Oh, c'mon, you'll manage." She teased. "Just do what you do best. Seduce."

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, can I take a cast of your cock? It's for a commission of mine'."

Sevika laughed heartily, enjoying this way more than she'd care to admit. "That pretty much sums it up, yeah." She replied. "I'm assuming most men won't say no, at least not with a pretty face like that."

"Huh. I think you're observant enough." You couldn't refuse an order to a customer as loyal as Sevika, it was a good pay. You just had to gather courage and find a candidate to take the mold, there would certainly be no shortage of suitors. The only problem is how they would take the offer, they would probably try to take advantage of you. You frowned, tensing at the idea of dealing with horny swines.

Sevika observed your frown, noticing the tension in your shoulders. She leaned forward, catching your gaze.

"Relax." She said firmly. "I'll be there with you. If anyone decides to be... insistent, I'll put them in their place."

Your shoulders relaxed. You trusted her, more than people believed. And you knew that Sevika would protect your integrity throughout the process, since she was a woman who kept her word, and her sense of protectiveness was simply unmatched.

"I'll take the measurements of your hip and crotch then." You finally said, looking for a measuring tape in the toolbox.

Sevika smiled pleased as she stood up from her seat. You knelt in front of her, unrolling the measuring tape to take the hip and crotch measurements. As you moved around, your hands touched her thigh, and your face came a few inches from her crotch.

"Lift your hips slightly." You said, trying to remain professional.

She lifted her hips slightly, watching you closely. "This good?" She asked, her voice betraying no hint of emotion.

"Yeah." You nodded. "Poor women that will have to keep up with you on a strap." You mumbled.

"Oh, the ladies will be fine." She retorted, a smirk on her face. "They'll enjoy it, if they know what's good for them."

"I don't wanna hear any details, thank you."

"Fine, we'll move on." She agreed, her eyes still fixed on you. "You're too focused on the details. I'll handle finding the... talent for the cast then."

"Fine." You finished taking the measurements, standing up. The size difference when you looked up at Sevika was... intimidating to say the least.

"You're too short." she teased.

"You're too tall." you said back, picking up your toolbox.

Sevika smiled, knowing it was time for you to go and time for her to resume her gambling session. "Tanner will walk you out." She said. "Make sure she gets home safe." She ordered.

You followed Tanner out the door, glancing at Sevika who was leaning against the table and crossing her arms with a smile on her lips. "Take your time, doll, I trust your work."

To be continued...

[flwrstqr]

【 愛 】 MUST BE LOVE 𓂃 WHEN YOU KISS THEM FIRST ────𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾-𝗍𝗂𝖾𝖽. 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

엔하이픈 & fem!rea 𖹭 8OO establish relationship fluff imagines でも skinship petnames flirting kissing (obviously) ˊᯅˋ ❪ AMORE ❫ & clicks

다니 ⠀⦂⠀why do i feel like i haven't posted a ot7 fic in a while ㅠㅠ but here it is >//< hope you flueries enjoy MUAH

LEE HEESEUNG

“oh? what's this, baby?” heeseung chuckles, eyes glinting with mischief as you pull back, cheeks warm from the sudden courage that had you pressing a soft kiss to his lips. his hand slides to your waist, tugging you closer until you’re nearly in his lap. “didn’t know you were so bold,” he teases lightly. “come on, angel, don’t get shy now. one kiss isn’t enough, you know.” his thumb brushes slow circles against your hip, eyes never leaving yours as he leans in, barely an inch separating you. “what, did i steal all your confidence? you can kiss me again if you want,” he hums, lashes fluttering. his thumb traces slow, lazy circles on your hip, and the way he looks at you with a smirk on his lips. “c’mon, one more. for research purposes.”

PARY JAY

you press a quick kiss to jay’s lips, and the way his ears turn pink is almost too cute to handle. “oh?” he blinks, a soft laugh slipping out as he tries (and fails) to play it cool. “that’s all? you teasing me, baby?” his hands rest on your waist, thumbs brushing gently against your sides. he looks away, biting back a smile, but you can see right through him. “i mean, if you want more, i could—” he clears his throat, pretending to be casual. “i’ll pay you. $10 for another kiss?” when you raise an eyebrow, his lips tug into a pout. “fine, how about $1,000? is that fair?” his tone is light, but the way his eyes keep darting to your lips gives him away. “no? not even for a million dollars?” he sighs dramatically, pulling you closer. “guess i’ll just have to earn it the old-fashioned way, then.”

SIM JAKE

“hey—” jake barely gets the word out before your lips press against his, soft and fleeting, just enough to make him freeze for a second before you’re already pulling away. his brows furrow instantly, lips parted in disbelief. “that’s it?” he pouts, eyes narrowing as he leans in, closing the distance again before you can protest. his kiss is slower like he’s trying to make up for how unfairly short yours was. when he finally pulls back, breath warm against your lips. “you know the rule, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your jaw. “if you kiss me, i have to kiss you back.” his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “and since you only gave me one—” he steals another kiss, then another, grinning against your lips when you whine. “—i’m making up for it.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon barely blinks when you lean in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. he knew it was coming—the way you hovered near him, eyes flickering to his face every few seconds, fingers lightly tugging at his sleeve. you wanted attention. his attention. and who was he to deny you? without hesitation, he sets his phone aside, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into his lap. he presses a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek. “should’ve just said you wanted my attention, baby.” his hands settle on your waist, warm and steady, eyes flickering over your face like he’s committing every little detail to memory. “what do you want, hm? kisses?” he hums, tilting your chin up with his fingers before stealing another kiss. “or just me?”

KIM SUNOO

“yah—baby!” sunoo whines the second your lips press against his cheek, his hands flying up in protest as he dramatically inspects his reflection in the mirror. “i just did my skincare!” he huffs, lips jutting out in the cutest pout as he gently pats at his face like you just ruined hours of effort. but even as he complains, his ears turn pink, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips, like he’s secretly hoping you’ll do it again. you grin, leaning in once more, and he gasps, swatting at you half-heartedly. “no, stop—” his words die the moment you kiss him again. a beat of silence. then, with a defeated sigh, he mutters, “fine… just one more.” but the moment you pull away, he’s already tugging you back in, stealing another kiss for himself.

YANG JUNGWON

the moment your lips press against his, jungwon’s eyes flicker with something playful. before you can even process it, he’s already pulling you onto the bed with a mischievous grin. “oh? you think you can just kiss me and get away with it?” he teases, and before you can answer, he’s peppering kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead—each one quicker and more relentless than the last. you giggle, squirming under his hold as he hums in satisfaction, clearly winning whatever unspoken competition this has turned into. “hmm, i think i need more,” he muses, pinning you down just enough to press a dozen more kisses to your skin, his breath warm against your ear. “give up yet, baby?” but judging by the way he’s smiling, dimples on full display, he’s not planning to stop anytime soon.

NISHIMURA RIKI

the second your lips press against his, riki freezes—only for a beat—before a slow, smug grin spreads across his face. “whoa, whoa, whoa,” he drawls, leaning back with a teasing glint in his eyes. “you kissed me first? are you feeling okay, baby?” he places a hand over his chest, gasping. “wait—don’t tell me… you’re obsessed with me, huh?” he wiggles his brows, laughing when you groan and shove at his shoulder. but just as you’re about to turn away, he catches your wrist, effortlessly pulling you back in. “nah, don’t get shy now,” he murmurs, voice softer, teasing lilt still there but laced with something warmer. before you can process it, he closes the distance, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “see?” he smirks as he pulls away, eyes twinkling. “told you—you’re totally obsessed.”

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[takes1]

HOORAY I just read ur bokuto x reader p4 it was really cute :3 sorry havent updated in awhile i got busy with life… but i never forget to keep u in mind 🫶 love ur work as always, very memorable writer to me -🐈🐈‍⬛

[final] bokuto teaching inexperienced!reader

only fitting to respond to you for this last one. ughhh ilysm 🥹😭💕💕

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / first time / soft kissy missionary / safe sex / BIG praise kink!bokuto / himbo!bokuto / sweet, dumb!bokuto / inexperienced!reader / possessive!bokuto / f!rec oral / guided handjob / kuroo's sister!reader / 2.3k words / last installment

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. part two here. part three here. part four. request box

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed a little at the generous, clear bulge in his tiny shorts.

"Can I see it?"

He fisted the sheets in his excitement that you were thinking the same thing, biting his cheek so he didn't shout. Just by the obvious elation on his face, you could tell he was in the process of holding back a million bad responses.

Instead, he let his hands talk, lips crashing against yours all rough and thirsty as he pulled it out. You didn't want his kisses, though-- you grinned as you avoided what you could, so you could see.

Propped up on your elbows, you looked from his vigilant stare, trailing down his sculpted, smooth body down to his cock between your tummies.

It looked heavy.

You quickly learned that it was hot, too, as he guided your palm around it, and used your hand to pump himself. Your heart was racing- it was so weird, and you liked it so much, and he liked it even more.

Bokuto always stood by the idea that 'it always feels/tastes/sounds better when somebody else does it.' The kind of guy to only drink out of other peoples' cups, ask other people to read things out loud to him, massage a part of his shoulder he could get but won't.

While you didn't know what you were doing in the slightest, and he was controlling your pace, even the harsh grip, it still felt 40x better than all the jerking off he usually did.

His tongue got confident, and a bit curious, diving deeper past your teeth. He was just trying in whatever way he could to be inside of you. The weight of his body became more substantial.

You loved feeling his strength falter, his lust heightening, compelling him to get closer.

When he pulled away, he looked a little crazy- like he forgot to smile, or something. It was the nature of his eyes to not look very friendly, but it gave the impression that he was really holding himself back.

"Are- you okay?"

"Just-," He takes a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he's recalibrating, "Feels really g-ood."

He wasn't prepared in the slightest for the smile you gave him. It was sweet, and prideful, and too cute with his cock in your hand.

That tortured look was back, briefly before he shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder.

"Fuck-! I need you s-o bad," He whined, pitiful, "Are- h-ahh, you ready yet?"

You could try.

With a question like that, asked so sweet, so sugary- you hummed against his hair, not quite understanding what 'ready' meant.

You hardly noticed how he plucked a condom from his shorts, somewhere in the mess of sheets to the left of you- and slid it on between clumsy kisses. Lots of practice must've made the process second nature.

It was difficult, to say the least, adjusting to him. His eagerness was already so spoken for, and you realized too late that you probably did need more time.

Bokuto could feel it too, though.

He could hear it in the thinly-veiled fear, making your voice waver, break, as you asked him to be gentle with you.

"Even if it takes all night," He kissed your nose while you couldn't move away, "I'll wait for ya."

Rough hands, so used to force and recklessness, practiced paying attention through running smooth lines across your skin.

Those hard kisses turned softer, slower, across your jaw and down your throat. He moved at a near imperceptible pace, just to get you accustomed to all of his size.

"Sooo pretty," He whispered to himself, forehead heavy on yours as he closed his eyes, "Fuck..."

The discomfort was just starting to be overshadowed with better, pleasurable, buzz. Your legs were slowly relaxing, a jelly-like feeling that spread from your thighs, squished comfy next to his hips, down to your toes.

Bokuto was capable of deliberate and soft sex. He wasn't always an animal, and he wasn't ignorant to somebody else's needs.

He was just excitable, and stupid. But all he needed was a whisper, a hint, or a reminder sometimes.

You kissed the tip of his nose, a way of telling him you were okay. Your fingers started to rake through his spiky hair, and the little smile on your face waited for him to he open his eyes.

"Shit--," He stole another few kisses from you, "Oh, you're so- mh- you're soo cute."

Between kisses, his tongue lagged, always proceeded by a sharp sigh. Almost like he was struggling to multitask. It made you curious when it started to get more frequent.

"Sh-it--h-ahh--," His curse broke into a shocked whine-- he stalled, deep.

Your higher, cuter sound at how good it felt did nothing to help to bring him down.

You watched him bite his own wrist, a small concern furrowing his brow.

Craving more, and only knowing one way to cheer him up, you rolled your hips up and locked your ankles around him with a squeeze.

"W-ait, waitwaitwait," He seethed, "Ahh- fuck-- stop moving babygirl- stop moving."

The person he looked down at was no longer a shy little nerd, incapable of handling his flirty second nature. Your mouth was curled into a coquettish grin, your pecks soft and affectionate and too much, scattered around his face.

He had to cum so bad that he felt sick. He had to look through you- draw blood to his palm, just to clear his filthy mind.

"Do I really feel that good?" You giggled- beyond flattered by his tortured expression.

There was no beat between the end of your sentence and his hushed response, "Yes."

You knew about vague stereotypes of guys with shitty endurance. You didn't have first-hand experience until you watched his expression shift, swirling, panic and euphoria taking one another over again and again.

He 'ruined' his orgasm by keeping your needs first. He knew you couldn't take what he wanted. His body was like iron, forced motionless, like a statue, except for the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

It looked like a delicious mix of pained and sexy as he came, almost perfectly still, so he didn't hurt you.

A kind of psychotic, intrusive desire made you tense-- the curious, hungry want to get rid of the condom between you. How much better would that have felt without it?

The sheets groaned, fabric snagging and snapping, under his grip. His body was all flexed up for you to watch. You knew he was trying to keep you in mind, so you didn't try anything too cute until he started relaxing, again.

"Hm-mmph--, fuck--," He groaned, a tremble in his arms as he slowly pulled out.

His exhaustion was short-lived, only manifested in a breathiness in his chuckle.

"Good thing I brought two."

This time you saw him take out a second one- but it wasn't just two. He had a whole row of condoms in his pocket this entire time.

You giggled at how he tore the second one off. What could he have possibly been thinking to bring seven along?

Bokuto harnessed some pornstar-like efficiency, tearing the outside open and pumping the latex onto himself with no waste of energy.

"Y'know," He cocked his head to the side, silly, despite his thumb sliding over your clit, "I've never cum that fast."

"Mmn-h-- Ah- that's- that's good--," You struggled.

A useful thing to know, sure, but it's not like you really cared- he never got soft. It was a non-issue because he was still clearly up for more.

He filled you back up so easy and slow, his thumb prodding stuttery waves of pleasure where there was once pain. He watched it with an air of pride about him. He sat up straighter, focused on where he disappeared into you. He soaked in all your twitching until he got his fill.

Only when he was satisfied did he lean down to his elbows to check on you.

Your had to fill your hands with his perfect muscles, all bouncy and twitchy at how overstimulated you got him. He was huffing, swallowing his groans so he didn't look uncool-- restrained or not, he would've looked just as cute.

He just wanted to fuck you good. For you to remember it well.

"Mmnh-! You're so big-,"

Those giant, fuck-me-harder eyes kept his shoulders tight. His hand was gripping your hip like a vice and bringing you down onto him.

His cock sank deep, a grumbly sound under his quiet, breathy whining-- your breath caught, and you had the brief revelation that you had been missing out on this for so long. How long had they been friends for? Years?

You wanted to make up for all the lost time. You locked your ankles around him for the second time, your hands pulling him back so you could put some hickeys all up and down his thick neck.

Though you had some vague idea that he loved when you hugged him close, you didn't understand the depth in which it turned him on.

It was one of those quick-affirming, sweet and wordless praises that resonated so hard with Bokuto's insatiable need to be validated.

He had to ask. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

"That feel good?" His hand cupped your entire jaw, forcing your eyes on his, ever so focused.

Your grip on his forearm was like an ant trying to push over a tree. It would never budge. And when it didn't, it took very little time to realize you actually liked it there. Your reflex did nothing to serve you, but you kept your hand still to prod at the muscle.

The breath you took to answer him was wasted on another moan.

"Ah-h--,"

"I want ya to tell me," His insistence was daunting, but filled with need.

"I--,"

Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were gasping, trying to tell him you were close- but none of it came out properly.

It was all just improper, uncontrollable, unmasked whining.

A bit late, he was witness to your adorable realization that you were cumming. He murmured a small, infatuated, "Aww..."

His lips pressed hard to your temple, and he let you pull him in, offering only the bulk of his shoulder as consolation for his deeper thrusts. It was a taste of what he could give you if only this wasn't your first, if you had been used to him from the start.

An orgasm had never felt so filled out, before. Like it was larger than you, stronger than anything you'd be able to craft on your own, from just your fingers. It was him. His cock, but moreso was his intensity and devotion to getting you there and fucking you all the way through it.

His hand was still cupping the bottom half of your face, but not covering your mouth. God, he wanted the entire world to know how good he made you feel. Especially Kuroo. Fuck that guy for keeping you a secret.

"Good girl, ohh- you did so good," He was slowing, still seeing those last, shallower, mellow waves through with dedication, "Sound sooo pretty."

Those eyes were softer, but still eating you up, savoring you while you were all messy for him.

Were you dating, now? It felt like you had been shot forward about ten years with this guy.

A light buzzing -the muted ring of a phone- was somewhere near you, interrupting your giggly, feel-good vibe. Again, and still just as surprising, Bokuto slowly pulled out of you and made quick work of that second condom.

He patted around the sheets for the source of the sound.

"Oh!"

He let the ringing continue- he had to get his idea out immediately: "That totally reminds me! I should get you a vibrator or something."

Jaw slack, you weren't given the opportunity to respond, before he answered. You lay there, a bit shivery and empty-feeling, as he hugged your thigh over his own.

"Hellooo?"

It was quiet. There was a faint, urgent, tone on the other side.

"Ummmm..."

His fingers tapped against your skin. He was lost in deep thought of how to respond. You were glad you couldn't hear the words being spoken, because you knew it was not going to be a pleasant earful.

"Yeah-... I mean, we were just talking... and... stuff."

Bokuto got droopier. He sank, sitting on his heels, still sitting butt-naked and hugging your thigh. You squeezed one of your blankets to your chest and frowned.

"It's nothing personal, man..."

He held the phone away from his ear as he was verbally berated, a pout making his whole face look cartoonishly sad. It was difficult, on your end, to understand that he could both be super into you and want to stay friends with Tetsurou.

"Would it make it any better iiiif I told you we were dating now?"

Bokuto winced and slid his free hand back and forth over your leg as consolation, for himself.

"Yeahyeahyeah, I gotchu, yeahyeah. Okay'bye," He hung up at the soonest crafted opportunity.

"Soooo," He sighed, distraught, instantly making up any distance between you. He dropped so much weight atop your sore body and covered you like a warm, weighted blanket, that you struggled to get air in your lungs.

"He's... not... happy."

The big dummy on top of you deflated with each word in a dismal decrescendo.

You had to wriggle around to find somewhere to breath from; room for your chest to expand at least a little.

"I thought you knew that?"

Bokuto made a high humming sound, feet kicking in the air, "Mmmmmmyeahhh, kinda, but..."

You freed one arm to wrap around him, so you could play with his hair, "He can't stay mad forever. He'll see that you're not- harmful- I guess, eventually."

He let his brow relax, shoved hard into your shoulder, and took in your new comforting scent.

Part of you couldn't blame your brother for assuming the worst. It took until incredibly recently for you to understand the full scale of Bokuto's fixation.

Despite all his sad body language, he couldn't have been that worried, because he was already back to sly, tongue-centered kisses on your neck.

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[lvnleah]

Would love a fic featuring clumsy!lessi super stressed all the time that she’s gonna drop your little one so you keep reminding her how gentle she is with your baby

too clumsy | alessia russo.

Your whole body ached. You had just given birth less than 48 hours ago to yours and Alessia’s baby girl, Sofia and you had only been home for less than a couple hours. 

Out of the two of you, Alessia was the more anxious one over your baby girl. You could see she was on edge every time she carried her, she was known to be clumsy so you couldn’t blame her. 

She took extra caution with everything. 

From the drive home to the way she made her bottles and supported her head. Every little thing was being done extra carefully, Alessia was paying attention to every little detail. 

The drive home was only supposed to be fifteen minutes but somehow, with Alessia’s extra cautious driving, it turned into a thirty minute journey. She kept looking back, checking in on you and Sofia and swearing at any driver who drove too close or too recklessly. 

The first hours at home with Sofia were perfect, she was a calm baby. She slept the whole time she was passed around from one member of Alessia’s family to another. 

But then the nighttime quickly rolled around and since your baby girl had made her appearance in the world, that was one thing you were struggling with. 

It was safe to say her days and nights were a little bit confused. 

“Shhh, it’s okay bubba,” you cooed, holding Sofia close to your chest as her tiny cries filled your room. “It’s okay, mama is here.”

“She’s had a bottle, two nappy changes and her clothes changed.” Alessia sighed, “Why isn’t she sleeping?” 

“She’s just figuring things out,” you murmured gently. “She doesn’t know what night is yet.”

Sofia squirmed against your chest, her cries not as sharp now, but still unsettled. You tried to stand up to carry her around the room but your body protested. It was aching from the birth, sore in places you didn’t even know could be sore. You winced slightly, and Alessia caught it instantly.

“Hey, babe you shouldn’t… you should be resting,” she said, quickly getting up and rounding the bed to be at your side. “I can take her. I mean, if you want me to try.  I just don’t… I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Less, you settled her in the hospital. You walked her around, remember?” you said softly. “She loves you doing that. She knows you're her mama.”

“That was different,” she whispered. “There were nurses. If something went wrong, someone was there.”

Your heart clenched at the way she said it, like she didn’t trust herself. Like she thought she was going to break your daughter just by holding her.

“You’re her mum,” you said gently, “You don’t need nurses to tell you you’re doing it right. Look at her, she already loves you. She calmed down for you in the hospital because you made her feel safe.”

“I don’t want to drop her,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.

“You won’t,” you promised. “You’re clumsy, Less but not with Sofia.”

You saw the flicker of a smile, small but real. Slowly, you held Sofia out to Alessia, keeping your arms steady beneath her just in case she needed the reassurance.

“Just try,” you whispered. “I need a break… and she needs you.”

With trembling hands, Alessia took Sofia from you, holding her like she was made of glass. Her whole body tensed for a second but then, as Sofia whimpered and nestled into her chest, something shifted.

She started to sway gently, pacing the room the way she had in the hospital, whispering soft words you couldn’t quite make out. Sofia’s cries turned to quiet hiccups and then nothing. Silence.

You let yourself fall back onto the bed with a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed.

When you cracked one eye open a minute later, Alessia was still moving, a bit slower now but more confident as she rocked your daughter like she’d done it a thousand times.

“She’s asleep,” she said quietly, awestruck. “She’s really asleep.”

You smiled, eyes full of love. “Told you. You’ve got her.”

[puptrefied]

cw : somno ⋆ no dialogue | 1k words .ᐟ

ellie has your face everywhere—most of her journal pages, random papers and literal paintings—so it's no surprise she uses any moment of quietness to draw you again.

you're on the couch reading? she's already sitting on the other end of the room, journal in hand, focused on getting the proportions right.

you took a cute polaroid? well, she has it handmade on paper, right on the cork board above her bed. she tried to be fancier and draw it with a pen instead of her usual pencil.

you're outside, paying attention to some plants ? ellie's on the window, sketchbook resting against her knee, trying to capture the way the sunlight hits your face.

and now, while you're asleep—soft breaths, limbs relaxed, the thin straps of your nightgown slipping just slightly off your shoulder. ellie’s at the edge of her bed, journal balanced in her lap, pencil gliding over paper in slow, careful strokes.

she wants to get it perfect. the shape of your lashes against your cheek, the slightly parted lips, the tousled hair, the way your fingers curl slightly around the blanket. her eyes drifted lower as she observed every feature she was about to practice with.

hm, the blanket’s in the way.

ellie bit her lip, shifting in place. you wouldn’t mind if she just…moved it a little, right? just to capture the shape of your hips, the smoothness of your thighs—purely for artistic purposes, obviously.

god. you’re barely wearing anything.

the nightgown’s ridden up, exposing soft skin and the faintest trace of lace beneath. ellie swallows hard, heat prickling at the back of her neck. this is fine—fine—she’s just drawing, after all. she can be normal about this.

but the moonlight catches on the curve of your chest, the delicate rise and fall with each breath, and suddenly her hands feel clumsy, shaky even, like she’s trying too hard to keep it together.

okay ellie, just focus on the drawing. yeah, you can do that. just…anatomy lesson!

working on sketching the full view of your ass shouldn't make her stomach feel this way. she's seen it a hundred times already. but the way you're there, completely unaware of the fact you're the muse of her rather intimate drawing gives her a tingly feeling.

man, drawing soft nipples is kinda complicated. it would be easier if they were hard.

thankfully ellie knows how to solve a problem, especially this one.

as carefully as she could she got up, trying to avoid moving the bed and waking you up. slowly going to stand next to your side of the mattress—hand sliding the straps of your nightwear down to get even easier access. now it's better, she can fully see your boobs and draw then correctly… but yeah, maybe hard nipples would be more convenient. just saying!

she kneeled beside the bed, heart thudding a little too fast, and reaches out—just barely grazing the curve of your breast with the back of her knuckle. the touch is feather-light, almost not there, but even that makes heat curl low in her stomach.

nothing.

no reaction.

you’re still lost in sleep, lashes fluttering faintly against your cheeks.

okay, just a little more.

her thumb brushed over your nipple—gentle, desperately hoping you're deeply asleep—until she felt it harden beneath her touch. a quiet exhale escaped her lips, half in triumph, half because the sight of you like this makes her head spin and her belly tingle even more.

that's better.

she told herself it’s all for the sake of the sketch as she retraces the lines in her mind, committing every detail to memory before she pulls her hand away. but she hesitates—because how could she not? the skin under her fingertips is so warm, so soft, and there’s a sweetness in the air that makes her crave more.

god, she shouldn’t. she should sit back down, finish the drawing like a normal person would, and stop being a complete perv about it.

but instead, her thumb drags across the sensitive peak again—slower this time. watching the way your body shifts under her touch sends a sharp pulse of heat through her. she bit her lip hard enough to hurt, like it’ll ground her, stop her from taking things further.

that's obviously not working because her thumb keeps moving and her lips are slightly parted now, so focused on your body and the subtle reactions it has.

she's just making sure she’s getting every detail right in the sketch. that’s all. no big deal.

but her pulse is hammering so hard, heat coiling low in her belly as she watched the way your body reacts, the way your chest rises just a little sharper when her thumb flicks over your nipple again. she swallowed hard. It’s barely anything, just a subconscious response, but it makes something tighten inside her. maybe you like it, maybe you're dreaming about it, maybe—

her breathing got heavier but barely audible over the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift in your sleep. Her eyes flick to your face, searching for any sign of wakefulness.

just one more touch wouldn’t hurt, right?

her fingers ghosted down your ribs, following the shape of you like she’s still sketching—just without the pencil this time. when she reached your hip, her grip firmed slightly, just to feel the give of soft skin beneath her palm.

her thighs automatically pressed together, making her feel the wetness in between them soaking the fabric of her underwear.

this is bad. so, so bad.

but you’re right there, pliant and warm under her hands, and the temptation is overwhelming.

ellie’s breath hitched as she lets her hand dip lower, tracing the delicate lace of your underwear. the fabric so thin, and she wonders—shit, ellie, stop.

but then you shift again, a sleepy, barely-there hum escaping your lips as your thighs part just slightly, and she’s gone.

she needs to go to the bathroom and take care of it… sigh.

masterlist

[tojisteddy]

Could we please get more general meanie!simon headcannons?

No need to rush but have a good day!

general meanie!simon headcanons

now playing: landslide by fleetwood mac

a/n: I live for this, thank you for requesting!!! You have a good day too!!

Cannot do large crowds. It’s too loud and theres too many people and too many different conversations. He can do loud on the field, quick changes of action when it’s do or die. Just not at home. It spikes his anxiety up ten fold, make him more irritable. So he only grocery shops in the early mornings when the old ppl shop or he leaves it up to you. If you want to go shopping with him for new clothes, it’s get in and get out. Same with concerts. It has to be an artist that’s rare to see for him to go.

He’s extremely chill compared to how he was when he was a teenager/young adult. Hes sent a couple folks to the hospital, used to get into it with his team mates so bad John sent him to anger management and wouldn’t allow him back unless he got his act together. And he despised it at first, hated the happy go lucky therapist who lead the group, the fact that it was in a damned church basement, and that he had to talk to strangers. But it actually did a number on him. In a good way. Healed a few parts of him to make him into a better man, much easier to deal with, he’s slower to anger now. And if it comes storming down on him he might go for a smoke, take a few deep breaths, go walk a few paces. Price is proud of him and for once Ghost— no- Simon is proud of himself. Happy he stumbled upon you after he got his shit together. It makes him want to work harder at improving himself even more. He’s not the best, but he’s trying. He always go to group therapy every Wednesday when he’s back home, right after work. He brings home dinner, a little more- chipper.

Really doesn’t do too much talking when he’s off. He definitely a teaser, playful, but even with you, he doesn’t have much to say. You both like comfortable silence when you’re gone for cuddle together.

Doesn’t complain about the amount of stuffed animals you have or how you decorate. You’ve made his house a home, even after he fixed it up himself, it never felt good to be alone there. These are ghosts hiding there. But you brought a breath of fresh air into the place. Hes more than greatful, hugging onto your stuffed animals when your gone for too long.

Likes to do chores together, even if it’s folding laundry or walking the dogs or washing dishes— he loves being in your space.

hates your dog Fish because he’s a wild thing no matter how hard you train him. The little shit only listens to Simon for some reason when Simon only likes his dog, Slugger. Doesn’t mean the man isn’t gonna pet the cute one year old puppy though.

Squints a lot when reading the coffee signs, he definitely needs reading glasses but says hes too young for them (hes almost 35)

can talk about his favorite movies for ages, loves the classic westerns and sci-fi flicks from the 80s. Knows the actors ages and if they’re alive or not. Talks to you about them like a history lesson, you never get bored though. His voice is perfect.

A little insecure about the scars on him, that’s why he’s covered in tattoos. Some tattoos mean a lot to him, others he just got for fun.

Has a motorcycle, rides it here and there. Has taken you for a drive to meet Alice, an older woman about 80 from anger management. She’s like his grandma, he speaks softer (and smaller) when he’s with her. Alice babies the hell out of him.

His closet is more than casual, multiple black shirts and denim jeans, a few plaids, some leather jackets, bomber jackets— it’s not too serious. He’d rather invest in you, let you play dress up in your closet and watch you twirl for him. And he pays attention to every detail. What you like and don’t like. His cute fucking baby.

When he blushes, which is rare, it won’t show on his face, won’t smile at all or get red in his face— but his ears. Bright red. Be on the lookout when his mask is off.

Can knit and stitch. Not too good at stitching but he knows how to get that job done. Knitting? He joined Alice’s knitting group, club meetings to gossip are once a month of the first Saturday. He never misses a meeting.

Helps out the neighbors with their broken equipment. Broken lawnmower or mixing machine? He can fix it. He’s pretty handy. Stand off-ish but kind to his neighbors.

Spends some days drinking beer or whisky on the couch or going for a drive. Just to think about nothing but sometimes everything. Take a look at the scenic view, he takes you sometimes, kisses your hands and holds them tight without saying a word. 

Physical touch junkie, loves holding hands without saying it, brushing fingers, playing with your braids or curly hair, pinching your cheeks, having your legs in his lap— something.

Does not like clowns. Not scared but he finds them annoying. Same with mimes. Stays ten feet away.

Swears by Fleetwood Mac album ‘Rumours’, will always play it and never gets tired of it. It’s brought him out of multiple dark places. Won’t sing but will mumble the lyrics. So cute. Swears by To Noise Making (Sing) and Sunlight by Hozier and Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away) by Deftones.

Two other random hobbies? Lego building and painting. He’s shit at painting, but he does it anyway because he enjoys it. Now Lego building, hes good. As in there are a few self made projects around the house that look like real masterpieces, good. Simon spends a buck and then some on them, Soap teases him for it but he always shows them off to you, they’re amazing.

a/n: I hope this was okay anon. Let me know. Been waiting for someone to ask but meanie!simon going to anger management is like a big part of the reason I don’t write him so toxic (just a little bit like a little extra salt though). I don’t think he’s at that point in his life anymore. Also sorry for all the posts today. My bad.

most recent masterlist past meanie!simon hc

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse @nightfwn @mims900 @lillybunni

[gpcwsl]

Happy Birthday Leah!

Leah Williamson x Reader

Matching necklace

WC: 483

MasterList

Warnings: a kiss?

Song: “Yellow” - Coldplay

The Arsenal changing room is buzzing with energy as everyone gets ready for training. It’s the day before the match against Crystal Palace, but more importantly—it’s Leah’s birthday. The team is loud, laughter bouncing off the walls, but you don’t care about any of it right now. You have something to give her.

Leah is halfway through pulling on her training top when you catch her eye. You nod toward the side of the room, signaling for her to come with you. It’s not exactly private—nothing ever is with this lot—but it’s enough.

She raises an eyebrow but follows, her lips twitching like she already knows you’re up to something.

“Happy birthday,” you say, pulling a small box from your bag. It’s wrapped in Arsenal-themed paper, and as soon as Leah sees it, she grins.

“Arsenal wrapping paper? You know me so well.” She turns it over in her hands, her fingers tracing the edges like she’s memorizing every detail.

“Go on, open it.”

“I’m not ripping this.” She says it so seriously that you can’t help but laugh.

“It’s just paper, Leah.”

“No, it’s Arsenal paper.” She carefully peels back the tape, taking her time, which only makes the rest of the team start paying attention. A few groans echo around the room.

“Leah, you’re slower than my nan,” Katie teases.

“Just rip it!” Kyra adds.

Leah ignores them, determined. And finally—finally—she gets to the box underneath. She lifts the lid, her eyes widening as she takes in the necklace inside.

It’s simple but meaningful: a silver chain with a small Arsenal cannon charm. A perfect match to the earrings she always wears.

For a second, Leah doesn’t say anything. She just stares at it, like she’s trying to make sure it’s real. Then she looks up at you, and before you can react, she kisses you.

It’s soft but certain, and the second it happens, the room erupts.

Wolf-whistles. Loud cheers. Someone making exaggerated kissing noises.

“Ohhh, get in, Leah!” Lotte laughs.

“Bout time!” Caitlin calls.

Leah doesn’t care. She doesn’t pull away quickly or shy away from the attention. No, she just presses her forehead against yours and whispers, “Thank you.”

Her breath is warm against your lips, her voice just for you despite the chaos around you both.

“Can you put it on for me?” she asks.

You nod, heart hammering, and she turns, lifting her hair so you can fasten the necklace around her neck. When she turns back, her fingers brush over the cannon, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“It’s perfect,” she says. And as much as you want to tell her that she’s the perfect one, all you can do is smile back, because in this moment, with her standing in front of you, wearing your gift, looking at you like that—

You know she already knows.

[theamberfist]

Hell's Second Greatest Dad | Vox + Reader + Alastor

Familial! Alastor is reader's dad, Vox is the dad that stepped up

Description: With your dad, the Radio Demon, having been missing for seven years, you've come to see Vox as father figure instead. But when Alastor shows back up one day, he's furious to find his old friend trying to take his child away from him.

(Notes: CW Alastor, angst) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's kid from life) (Could be biological or adopted) (Teen Reader)

❀ This one will have a song! It's a rewrite of Hell's Greatest Dad, but with Alastor in Lucifer's place and Vox in Alastor's place (Alastor gets a taste of his own medicine) ❀

Words: 4,049

"Tomorrow's forecast calling for acid rain with tornadoes picking up around noon in the Doomsday Distract," The familiar voice of hell's iconic tech demon explained, "And now for our Reader's Segment!" He smiled, placing the papers he'd been reading off of on the table in front of him and looking back up at the camera. 

Once he announced your name, the TV screen promptly changed to show you curled up on a plush couch with a fuzzy blanket and a book on your lap. "Take it away, kid." Vox's voice said through the earpiece you always wore while on-air in case he needed to communicate with you. 

"Thanks, sir." You smiled at the camera before turning your gaze down to the book in your lap, "Tonight we'll be reading something a little slower paced. It's fun, cozy, and perfect for a night like this, so let's begin." With that, you announced the title of your current favorite book and then flipped it open, reading aloud. 

The set around you was decorated to resemble a cozy living room; with a crackling fireplace behind your couch, a fake window to your left that was supposed to make it seem as if it overlooked a snowy field, and the softest carpet you'd ever walked on. The log walls were decorated with photos of cute animals since you had no family photos to adorn them, and both the couch, blanket, and carpet were soothing shades of light pink and purple that greatly contrasted the harsh the blues and red of your boss while still remaining within the same domain. 

You read in your most soothing tone, which many viewers liked to claim had the ability to lull them to sleep almost instantly, even if you had no such power that you knew of. Though, you supposed anything calming and cozy like this would have been a great relief in a place like hell, which had been your goal from the beginning. 

Vox was hesitant about your segment when you first pitched it, considering it was so different from the rest of the shows he ran, but eventually he gave it a chance, and it had only ever paid off since. As far as sinners went, you were adorable, and it wasn't just because you were young compared to most of the adults in hell. That, coupled with the cozy vibe of your set and the books you read, was enough to keep viewers coming back, meaning there were more people to see Vox's commercials and, therefore, become his customers. 

Not to mention the fact that it made him look good in the public eye. A teenage sinner who liked to read their little books for the public, and whose soul he didn't even bother to own? He looked more kindhearted than half of hell's overlords combined, no matter his intentions. 

The only person that didn't approve of your reading segment currently stood on a sidewalk somewhere in Pentagram City, watching through the window of a shop. Despite his apparent smile, his eyes were narrowed in disapproval at the screen.

To those who didn't know him, he would have simply looked like a regular sinner; interested in listening to you read the story you seemed to excited about. Had they been paying attention, they might have noticed the way his hands tightened around the microphone he held or how his red deer-like ears tugged back slightly. 

And as for those that did have the sense to recognize him, they wouldn't have even had the time to notice those details, because they would have already turned and walked the other way upon seeing the Radio Demon back after his seven year absence. 

About an hour later, you finished your segment, feeling a little sleepy yourself from the calming sounds of the fire and a good book. Even your cameraman seemed to barely be able to keep his eyes open at this point.

"I think we'll stop there for tonight," you said with a yawn, gently placing your Vox Tech bookmark between the pages and closing your book, "Tune in tomorrow, where we'll continue the story from where we left off." You were talking even more quietly than you had at the beginning, not wanting to disturb any of the viewers at home that may have fallen asleep. Though, it was a futile effort, considering a blaring commercial would likely run the second you were off-air again. "This has been the Reader's Segment; thank you and goodnight!" 

With that, your cameraman signaled that you were now off-air and you yawned again, wrapping the fuzzy purple blanket around yourself despite the warmth of the nearby ambient fire. 

A moment later, the door to your recording set opened and in stepped Vox himself with a familiar frown on his face. He looked around, though, and the second his eyes landed on you, the expression was replaced by a  picturesque smile. "There they are!" He exclaimed happily, walking over to you as you blinked sleepily at him. 

"Hi." You smiled through your hazy tiredness, making the tech demon soften just a bit. 

"Well done, kid." He said, ruffling your hair, "As always." Vox gently placed a hand on your back, leading you towards the studio door and leaving the rest of his workers to clean the set up behind you. "I have to say, I never expected a 'cute' segment like yours to do so well," he went on, ever the businessman, as you half-listened. "Turns out comfort was exactly what pathetic sinners wanted all along!" He glanced your way, his smile becoming more genuine now, before adding, "I'm proud of you, kid." That got your full attention now. 

You'd only heard the words a few times in your whole life, despite the huge positive effect they always had on you. Even the man that had raised you; the one that should have been the most proud in the end, had never actually told you so. Vox may not have been related to you by blood, or even legally, but hearing that phrase from him still made you grin.

"Thanks." You replied, unsure of how to convey how much his pride meant to you. Luckily, it seemed you didn't need to, because he just nodded and then brought you over to the nearby elevator. 

"It's the truth, kid," he replied, pressing the button that would take you up to his designated floor. Each of the V's had one, with Vox's being the highest, that was technically supposed to be solely their living space. However, after you began working for him, Vox ended up converting one of the rooms on his floor to make it yours. Now, your bedroom was the first door on the right after entering Vox's floor. 

"Though, it looked to me like that bookshelf of yours is starting to get a little empty..." He was referring to the shelf found on your set. It housed each of the books you planned on reading next in no particular order. This way, when you finished one for the show, you could immediately pick a new pre-approved one from the back shelf. The one you were done with would then be moved up to your room for you to keep, which was beginning to look more like a library with how many titles there were inside. 

"Did it?" You asked, feeling a little embarrassed, "I can grab a few more to add to it tomorrow." Vox shook his head, though, as the elevator finally reached your shared floor. 

"No need," he replied, "How about we buy some more tomorrow; call it a shopping day?" With how many unread books you already had making a mess in your room, there was really no need to buy any more. But after the first year of having you around, he realized making you happy tended to lift some of the stress and burden he felt off his shoulders, so he did so whenever possible. 

"Really?!" You asked, stars practically shining in your eyes as you stepped out of the elevator. Vox nodded, a warm smile on his face. 

"Of course; can't have my best segment lacking stories, now can I?" You grinned, hugging him without even thinking. At some point during your time working for him, it had become a natural gesture.

Vox rested a hand on your head with a grin, patting your hair. He'd never expected to get so attached to a kid, much less you, of all people, and yet here he was, enjoying the hug as if he were your close family member. 

Once the excitement of the news seemed to die down for you, that fuzzy, tired feeling from before came back. "Thanks, dad..." You mumbled into the tech demon's coat. His eyes widened for just a moment before a smile reappeared on his face. You probably hadn't even realized what you'd just said, and yet, it felt so right for him to hear it. 

"No problem, kid." He replied. Finally, he pulled away, patting your shoulder. "Now, you'd better get to bed if you're going to have enough energy for book shopping tomorrow." You grinned again, wrapping your soft blanket a little tighter around your body. 

"Right." You said, gently rubbing your now-very-tired eyes. "Goodnight!" You called as you turned and opened the door to your bedroom. 

"Goodnight." Vox replied softly before you closed the door behind you and disappeared. He could hear a muffled 'flop' sound somewhere inside, realizing you'd likely collapsed onto your bed immediately after entering. 

He chuckled softly before turning to head to his own room. Vox tended to stay up much later than you most nights; handling various paperwork and business. Today was no exception, but as he made his way to his office, which was attached to the bedroom, he spared a glance at the framed photo that sat propped on his bedside table. In it, you were depicted, holding up the camera to take a selfie. Vox was there too, an arm around your shoulders as he posed for the camera. Both of you looked so happy; smiling brightly as if you had not a care in the world.

It was his favorite photo; thus why it always remained on his nightstand. He turned away now, heading for his office with a renewed determination to get things done. After falling out with his closest friend seven years ago, the tech demon had assumed nothing else would ever be able to bring him joy again.

And he had been right, until you came along. 

..........

You were up bright and early the next day; too early for Vox's standards. He'd barely gotten any sleep, as per usual, but had smelled the breakfast you were making in the kitchen once he came out of his extra office. 

As soon as he entered, you'd smiled and sat him down at the table, handing him a plate of your personal favorite breakfast food. Of course that had been what you chose to wake up and make this early in the morning.

Regardless, the tech demon humored you, knowing you were just excited to get to go book shopping later that day. 

Once you'd both eaten, you hurriedly shoved him into his room, insisting he get dressed and ready for the day while you did the same. Apparently, you wanted to be at the bookstore the second it opened, but who was Vox to deny you, when it seemed to make you so happy?

Once you both were ready, the two of you took the elevator down to the V Tower lobby, with Vox ignoring several calls from his assistant along the way. He could wait until later, the tech demon decided. Instead, he listened to you go on and on about the books you planned to get and how excited you were. It seemed you had a fully prepared list, and Vox was ready to get every single one on it if it brought you joy. Finally, you reached the ground floor and the elevator dinged as the doors opened.

And almost immediately, you were met with the sounds of shouting and windows breaking. Clearly, there was already a commotion, even though it was even ten in the morning yet. Sighing, Vox stepped out first, followed promptly by you, who would never miss out on a scoop if you could help it; especially if it was happening in your own 'basement.'

What you saw was even more surprising than expected. The employees that usually worked on this floor were running around like chickens with their heads cut off; many of them screaming in fear. The secretary that usually worked the front desk was dangling in the air; held by an eerie black tentacle that you recognized all too well. Following it with your gaze, you could see that it was attached to none other than a red deer-like demon, whose body had morphed so that he was almost too tall to fit in the room.

A green 'X' mark sat on his forehead, further confirming that he was currently in his demonic form as he held the secretary up to his eye level.

"Where are they?!" He demanded, his radio static voice somehow even more haunting than usual. 

"I'm not authorized to tell you that!" The secretary screeched, covering his eyes as the tentacle's grip tightened around him and began bringing him towards the demon's open mouth.

Vox's assistant stood off to the side, frantically typing something on his phone amidst the panic. So, that was why he'd been calling so much this morning.

With a sigh, the tech demon activated his mind control powers, taking a step forward into the chaos. "Stop!" He shouted, his voice distorted. Suddenly, everything came to a stop, except the giant demon still holding his secretary, who slowly turned his head in your direction.

Still smiling, his eyes narrowed for a moment before he suddenly noticed you standing there, instantly reverting back to his normal form as if nothing had happened. The black tentacles that had been holding the secretary disappeared, causing them to fall to the floor with a thud. Meanwhile, the Radio Demon adjusted his coat jacket and stepped forward.

"Finally," he called, holding his microphone-cane behind him, "The man in charge, so to speak." Both you and Vox tensed, and you looked to the tech demon, unsure what to do. 

When neither of you said anything, Alastor spoke again. "And it seems you've found my little one!" He exclaimed with an even wider smile, "Good, then I'll have no need to search this entire building for them." Vox's eyes narrowed at the idea, and he was about to take a step to the side, so as to block you, when you finally spoke.

"Papa...?" Your voice was quiet; hurt. The tech demon hated it but you took a step forward, nonetheless. This was, as much as he hated to admit it, technically your father; the man you hadn't seen or even heard from once in the last seven years. That would have shocked anyone. 

"There you are, my dear!" Alastor said, opening his arms to you as if expecting a hug. "Come along, now. We have quite a bit to catch up on!" You didn't move. 

Vox took a step forward, sensing your uncertainty. "You've been missing for seven years," he replied, "They don't have to go with you." Alastor's eyes narrowed. 

"They're my child," he said, "So I'd suggest you get out of the way before things get ugly, old pal." You bit your lip. As much as you'd longed to see your father again all this time, now that you were faced with that reality, you weren't so sure. You'd only just come to accept the fact that he would never be returning for you, and now here he was, acting as if nothing had even happened. 

You used to be close with him, but now it felt like he wasn't even the same person anymore. Vox, of all people, had had to take you in after your dad left without warning, and since then, he'd become the only father figure you had in your life. 

Alastor glanced between the two of you with what would have been a scowl, if not for the permanent smile on his face. Everyone else had all but cleared the room now; leaving only the three of you there in your standoff. 

You were frozen; unsure what to do, and you knew Alastor could see it. It was like having to choose between your two parents in a divorce, except in this situation, it was the once-loving-father that had abandoned you and the man that had stepped up ever since. 

Unfortunately, Alastor didn't seem to read the situation the same way you did, because with his flare for the dramatics, he went on.

"Darling," he sighed before bringing out his mic and beginning a song. Now you knew there was no going back. "Looks like you could use some help," he began, "from hell's Radio Demon himself!" 

Alastor swung his cane, summoning two familiar sinners to the room to back him up now. "Never trust the one who's acting so heartfelt!" He pointed in Vox's direction, and Nifty immediately scurried over, jumping on Vox's shoulder. 

"Traitor!" She exclaimed adamantly before the tech demon ripped her off of him. Husk, however, was less enthusiastic. 

"Heartless," he said, ignoring how Vox glared and began to stalk towards him, only for Nifty to jump and latch onto his back now. 

"A total snake!" She exclaimed and he tried to shake her off again. Meanwhile, the two of them provided enough distraction now for Alastor to gently grab you by the arm and pull you away. 

"Oh, with enough motivation, dear," he went on, "He'll betray you, standing right here!"  Before he could get you out of the lobby door, though, Vox had pressed a button to activate the security measures, locking it from the outside. "Usually, you'd learn it on your own, I fear," he went on, "But for you I'd do anything!"

Nifty ran over to the two of you wearing one of your hats she'd gotten off a nearby coat rack now, hugging one of Alastor's legs as if she were pretending to be you. Or at least, a happier version of you. "Thanks, dad!" 

Alastor turned, pointing to Vox, "Who needs a knock-off now that I have returned?" Nifty nodded eagerly, jumping to rest on your father's head. 

"Whoa!" She sang, having way too much fun with this. 

"Come back to radio; have all you could want!" Alastor went on, trying his best to win your favor once more. "I've all the fatherly affection you've earned!" He spun you around once before gently gripping your shoulders and pointing up as if he were showing you something in the sky. "Clothing, safety, souls of the hasty, this we would flaunt!"

Finally, Vox seemed to have had enough because he appeared between the two of you like a bolt of lightning, gently pushing you away from Alastor and towards the elevator. "Who's been here since he was gone?" He reminded you, "Even if you weren't my spawn? Who gave you the segment that makes them yawn?" He pointed to the crowd of sinners outside, who'd gathered by the windows to watch what was going on. Then he smiled and straightened his bowtie. 

"It's your very own producer!" He sang.

"That's true..." You admitted as he pressed the button for the elevator now, already using his demon powers to call the security staff to the lobby to handle Alastor. Any other day, Vox would have done so himself, but having you right there made the situation much more difficult. 

"I support you, day to day!" The tech demon went on, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, "Your books, show; whatever you can name!" The elevator doors opened, and Vox pushed you inside before you could even think of protesting. Once Alastor was out of sight again, he brought up a photo of the bookstore you'd planned to visit.

"Remember I'm taking you shopping today?" He asked just as a video chat with the bookstore's owner appeared.

"Buy our books?" She asked in the same singing-tone everyone seemed to have adopted now, "Thank you sir!" 

The elevator doors dinged now as you reached the third floor, where Vox's security team was stationed. However, the second they opened, all that could be seen was Alastor, along with an empty office and some black tentacles still disappearing from wherever they'd came. 

"I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond," Vox went on as he hurriedly pressed the 'close door' button in the elevator. They began to do so, only for another of Alastor's black tentacles to stop them just in time, ripping the doors open. "You're like the child that I wish that I had!" If Vox could sweat, he surely would have been doing so by now as Alastor's eyes narrowed again. This was the closest you'd ever seen him to not smiling. 

"Excuse me?" The Radio Demon spoke, his pupils already taking the shape of dials. Finally, Vox stood straighter, turning back to you and patting your head. 

"I care for you just like a child spawned!" He sang, knowing it was getting under Alastor's skin. "It's a little funny," he glanced back, a smirk on his features. Your father was seething. "You could almost call me 'dad'!" The second those words left Vox's mouth, Alastor moved to attack him, only for you both to disappear in crackles of electricity. 

The tech demon almost never transported others with him this way, which meant he was taking Alastor's presence in the V's tower seriously. You appeared on your shared floor, which also happened to have a panic room. It had been designed for waiting out exterminations but, considering the situation, Vox figured it would work just fine to keep you from your father now. 

He began pulling you towards it, only for Alastor to appear out of the shadows in front of him. 

"They say when you're looking for assistance," Vox sang, trying to move around him, only to be blocked by a black tentacle, "It's smart to pick the path of least resistance!" He was getting very tired of playing nice with the Radio Demon, especially when the tentacle previously blocking him grabbed onto his arm and pulled him away from you.  

"Others say that in your needy hour," Alastor said, beginning to pull you away from the tech demon, "The one that first raised you is simply never sour!" He spun you around to emphasize the proclamation, then stopped and placed both hands on your shoulders. "Who just happens to have known you in life!" He added a little more intensely.

A second later, though, you were pulled out of your father's grip by Vox, who began rushing you towards the panic room. "Sadly, there are times a child's needs are met with strife!" He exclaimed, pushing you through the door as gently but quickly as possible, "They say the family you choose is better." 

"Pathetic excuses!" Alastor chimed in, grabbing onto your arm just as gently-but-urgently as he attempted to pull you back. 

"Can you butt out of my song?" Vox snapped, pulling harder on your arm. You were halfway through the door now, awkwardly standing there and not knowing what else to do.

"Your song?" Alastor replied with a scoff, "I started it!"

"I'm singing it; I'll finish it!" Vox shouted back, pulling back on your other arm. The pressure was starting to hurt you now but you couldn't seem to get a word in about it as they fought one another. At this rate, you'd be torn in half before they could come to a custody agreement. 

"You're always such a piece of-" Before Alastor could finish his sentence, you finally cut in, pulling your arms out of both their grasps.

"That's it!" You screamed, finally catching their attention despite the entire song having been about you. "I can't do this right now!" You backed away form them both, feeling more than a little hurt and confused. Vox went to speak up but you weren't having it; raising a hand to stop him as you turned and stomped off to your room. "I need time!" And with that, you slammed the door behind you. 

[astrolovecosmos]

*Jupiter Natal Aspect Snippets*

Sun Trine Jupiter: Charismatic, lucky, a natural leader, generous, goodhearted, highly values education and/or may be loyal and passionate about their beliefs but can be overly trusting and feel torn between growth and excessive behavior.

Sun Opposite Jupiter: Overconfident, can be unrealistic with their goals, conflicting desires, risky, reckless, overindulgent, but may be determined to not let life get them down or to give into "bad luck" or "bad vibes." Can gain a lot of wisdom and success from failures.

Sun Square Jupiter: May be easily overstimulated or overwhelmed, struggles to know their limits, may struggle with authority or have a desire to challenge traditional norms, but can be very independent, brave, and resilient.

Moon Trine Jupiter: Has a strong spirit and tends to be optimistic. Likely generous and supportive. Has an inner world that is always searching for more, is warm, but can expect a lot from others. Disappointment in others may be a frequent battle in life.

Moon Opposite Jupiter: Can struggle to find balance in their life, tending to overindulge or swing to extremes. Feels torn between optimism and pessimism. May encounter a lot of inner tension in their close relationships. But having an open mind and bouncing back from rejection helps them grow in wisdom.

Moon Square Jupiter: Can manifest as overoptimism, exaggerated emotions, or conflicts between emotional needs and excessive desires for growth. Balancing emotional depth with realistic optimism is key for growth and fulfillment.

Mercury Trine Jupiter: Has a sharp mind and can't resist a deep conversation or study. Can balance paying attention to the details with seeing the big picture. Can sometimes get lost in a new academic or intellectual obsession. May become impatient with those who are not on their same mental wavelength.

Mercury Opposite Jupiter: Could be overly skeptical in their life OR the opposite and not have good judgment. May overestimate their knowledge and can be overconfident in communication. But a great desire to learn can guide them in life.

Mercury Square Jupiter: Can give into overthinking, overpromising, and exaggeration. Can get stuck in a closed mindset. May confuse wisdom with intellect and vice versa. Feels a lot of inner conflict with their beliefs and how they are taught things growing up. Growth comes from varied experiences for these individuals. Being more adventurous and curious may be good.

Venus Trine Jupiter: May have a very positive outlook on love and relationships. Known for being a "lucky" placement for love and romance. Can be a giving and appreciative lover. Having a happy romantic relationship is a high priority in their life. May need to be careful of having rose-colored glasses towards partners sometimes or jumping into relationships too quickly.

Venus Opposite Jupiter: Can struggle to be realistic in their relationships. Gets carried away, easily flustered, and maybe easily discouraged in love. May desire stability and safety but pleasure is a big temptation for them. On the flipside, can be an extravagant and passionate lover.

Venus Square Jupiter: Excess and running before walking can hinder their close relationships. They always find themselves being impulsive in love or being overly selfish. When they do give to others it can feel out of control, unpredictable, or even disingenuous somehow. Independence and separation help them gain better perspective on things. Moderation and self-awareness help them to become a better partner or to select better lovers.

Mars Trine Jupiter: Ambitious and bold! Two lively planets are in harmony in one's chart. This person can be very hungry for success. They build up their self-confidence at a young age or understands the need to grow their confidence when younger. May be a lively, energetic, or competitive individual. Can easily lose sight of softer or slower parts of life and the simple things that matter.

Mars Opposite Jupiter: May be rash, overly assertive or competitive, and get obsessed with ambition. Could be a combative person or have a love of conflict that becomes destructive or irksome. May not see value in patience, humility, and service. But this individual does have a good grasp on holding their own in conflicts and competition. With ego work and by slowing down they can gain a lot of insight into managing their own drive and purpose in life.

Mars Square Jupiter: Can deal with struggles where everything Mars does become excessive - competition, ambition, anger, conflict, desire, and passion. Anger problems and selfishness tend to be common manifestations for this aspect. However this placement can be looked at as a place of strength for willpower and libido. Even a calmer person with this placement may struggle with recklessness and/or lots of burn out. A tip is to learn to save up your energy for when it is needed.

Jupiter Trine Saturn: This individual learns their lessons quickly. They may have a good balance of optimism and skepticism. Can have a strong work ethic or healthy amount of ambition. Known as a favorable position for finances or going after your goals. May have good relationships with authority figures or becomes an authority figure themselves quickly or early in life. May struggle with impatience at times or favoring discipline over impulsiveness or vice versa to an unpredictable extreme.

Jupiter Opposite Saturn: Stuck on a rollercoaster of high optimism and low pessimism. Can run into a lot of frustrations or delays in their plans for life. Can easily overexert themselves and face burn out. Associated with both financial struggles and success, is commonly cited as a position that goes through booms and busts throughout their career. Learning strategic long-term planning can help them cope with these struggles. Relying on practicality and discipline can be very useful for these individuals. Battling self-doubt is common, they can have big dreams but must KEEP GOING to achieve them.

Jupiter Square Saturn: May struggle with a lack of responsibility or discipline. Can experience push-pull dynamics where they feel caught between their aspirations and the practical realities. Can be conflicted between their desires and a need for freedom. However when they win in life, they tend to win big.

Jupiter Trine Uranus: An innovative, charismatic, independent, enthusiastic, and inspiring individual. This aspect is known for being favorable for unexpected opportunities. Can be very open to growth and self-improvement. Their desire for freedom can be large and even domineering, causing some frustrations in life.

Jupiter Opposite Uranus: This person may feel like they live a chaotic life and/or have a chaotic self. A deep feeling of restlessness may exist. When these two planets meet sudden growth or opportunities may happen, but with the opposition this can also mean a lot of sudden upheavals and disruptions. These individuals may have grand visions but find themselves questioning or challenging ways of achieving them. This can result in a pattern of starting ambitious projects but having difficulty following through to completion. They may frequently challenge or be challenged by authority and conformity. But they can also be highly adaptable people who grow in confidence and cleverness over time.

Jupiter Square Uranus: Runs into excitement and intense growth as well as instability and unpredictable challenges. Can be a restless, impatient, rebellious, risky, and erratic individual. Can really struggle with authority figures. Can be overly independent to where it hinders their ability to get close to others. However they can be bold and willing to break boundaries. Can also be a role model to living your own life, being your own authority, and nurturing independence.

Jupiter Trine Neptune: A highly intuitive and potentially spiritual individual. Idealistic, compassionate, imaginative, giving, and highly values their integrity. They might have a strong faith in the "goodness" of life or of others. Can be prone to escapism, toxic positivity, or being overly trusting.

Jupiter Opposite Neptune: This aspect can lead to unrealistic expectations and over-optimism. There is a heightened risk of deception or being misled, as the influence of Neptune can blur boundaries and obscure reality while Jupiter expands, jumps, and indulges. Might struggle with unhealthy escapism or avoiding responsibilities, preferring fantasy over dealing with practical matters. This aspect can also lead to heightened creativity and imagination, fueling artistic and spiritual pursuits. It encourages compassion and a desire to help others, promoting altruism and empathy.

Jupiter Square Neptune: Can struggle with confusion, poor judgment, being used, impracticality, and falling for illusions throughout life. Disappointment and disillusionment may be a familiar friend unfortunately. But this aspect can stimulate profound thinking, depth. They can also have a large heart. They may master living in a world where sharks and con artist are around every corner, learning to spot a liar or a fake.

Jupiter Trine Pluto: A whole lot of inner strength. This aspect fosters a deep sense of purpose and the ability to influence and inspire others, making it easier to effect positive change on a larger scale. However their intense drive for success and transformation can sometimes lead to an obsession with power or control, potentially causing strain in personal or professional relationships.

Jupiter Opposite Pluto: Can indicate someone who deals with a lot of explosive power struggles in life. May be manipulative or power hungry themselves. Can give into obsession and extreme behavior of all types. Has a great ability to empower themselves by facing their inner demons head on.

Jupiter Square Pluto: May be a dogmatic, closed-minded, judgmental, and overly harsh person, especially in their beliefs. A desire for control may manifest through philosophies or religion somehow. But this person can have a lot of determination and depending on their ethics may be a great force to change the world around them for the better.

[reidsdimples]

Like Kids Again 🫶🏻

Spencer Reid x reader

Friends to lovers// angst// loss

You swing your door open, already aware that Spence is on the other side. It's late but you told him he was welcome anytime and tonight he needed you more than ever. He lost one of his co-workers in a shooting but couldn't tell you anymore than that.

He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, the shadows beneath them darker than usual, his shirt was untucked, and his tie had been discarded God knows where. He leaned on the door frame with his head hanging low in defeat.

"Oh Spence," you sigh and open your arms.

He stumbles into your small frame and drapes his head over your shoulder. His strong arms squeeze you tight and you just hold him. Spencer had been your best friend for many years and you had never seen him so broken. Not since Tobias Hankel, but this time his sorrow weighed heavily on him more than his anxiety. The grief radiating off of him, nearly choked you.

"I know you can't talk about the details," you hold his face between your hands so that he looks at you. "But talk to me as much as you can. Okay? Don't shut down on me Spence."

His bottom lip quivers and tears spill from his eyes but he nods his understanding. You finally push the front door closed and he follows you to the couch.

He lays his head in your lap and tucks pulls his legs up to his chest. You don't even mind the shoes on the couch, his red converse were so uniquely him, that it made you smile. You gently push your hands through his hair to soothe him. You just let him break down, let him sob quietly until he can't anymore.

"I'm right here," you whisper softly.

"I felt him die. I felt his..." he trails off. He turns over and looks straight up towards the ceiling. "I felt his breathing stop, his life leave his body. I couldn't," his voice cracks. "I couldn't stop it."

"It's not your fault," you console him. You push the strands of hair from his cheeks where they were stuck there from tears.

"You sound like Hotch," he offers a weak smile.

"No I mean it," you insist. "You didn't pull the trigger."

He shakes his head and squints his eyes, trying to take in your words. He looks up at you through thick eyelashes.

It’s then that you notice his hands. Not the way you usually do, in that they’re incredibly attractive. But you notice that there is dried blood under his nails. You take his hand in yours and examine it closer. His eyes close when he notices what caught your attention and a few tears fall.

“Come here,” you instruct softly.

You take his hand and lead him to your bathroom.

“I showered, I just couldn’t get it all,” he murmurs. He’s staring at the floor. In the room but a million miles away.

Your best friend, your Spence. Oh your love. He will never be the same again. Your heart aches and you push down the chocking need to cry that grows in your throat.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

You guide his hands under the warm water and soap up the nail brush. You hear him sniffle as you scrub his friend’s blood from his nails. It’s not something you ever thought you would be doing but you’d do anything to make him okay. You can’t imagine the turmoil he’s feeling.

He leans into you while you work on his other hand, his tall frame somehow heavier than usual. His movements are slower, more defeated.

“Thank you,” her murmurs as you feel dry his hands.

“Here, sit,” you instruct him to set on the edge of your bed.

You gently squeeze lotion into your hands before massaging one of his between yours. You gently rub the pressure points and pay special attention to his fingers before repaying on the other hand.

“There, good as new,” you smile gently.

Spence examines his hands and the weight of the world seems to lessen just a tad.

“Can you…” he begins nervously. He looks up at you and you know what he needs. You gesture for him to kick off his converse and crawl into bed.

“Like when we were kids,” you nod.

When the two of you were kids, he would sneak next door and crawl into your bed when his parents were fighting. You would hold him forever. Just like he did for you when you needed it.

“Like when we were kids,” he grins.

You crawl into bed behind him and latch onto him. It was much easier when he was smaller than you, but puberty changed that.

You hand him your small stuffed lion that you’ve had since you were ten. The one he gave it to you for your birthday. He looks at it and pulls in to his chest.

As adults the two of you don’t have these moments as often. You’re reminded of how much you missed his closeness, his scent, his soft breathing, and his affection.

You gently rub his arm, tracing small circles and patterns.

“Guess?” You ask him. He nods. It’s a game you two played as kids.

You trace ‘hi’ on his arm and he huffs a small sweet laugh.

“Hi,” he answers.

Next you trace ‘ILY’.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Familiar warmth fills you, you know you’ll never love anyone the way you love him. He’s always been your love. Your Spence.

You’re hit with a sudden pang of dread. What if it was Spence that had been shot and killed? You still. Dread giving way to guilt.

Guilt that you’ve harbored a deeper love for him for so long and never said anything. Fear that one day it could be too late.

He squirms and turns in your grip.

“What is it?” He’s looking up at you in the dark and he’s breath taking. Even with tired eyes and disheveled hair. Especially so even.

You shake your head. You’re not gonna burden him with your worries when he just lost a friend.

“I just miss this. Behaving like kids,” you laugh softly. “I half expect to wake up to a fort built around me again.”

You recall the time he built a massive fort around your bed without you even waking up.

He pushes your hair from your face and holds your cheek.

“I need to tell you something. If you listen, I might just build that fort while you sleep,” his eyes sparkle a little.

“I’ll listen but you need to sleep. No fort building,” you flick his nose softly. It earns a small smile and a breathy laugh.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you,” he says so softly that your ears ring. You jolt, staring at him.

There’s no way he said that, you had to be dreaming. He was just your best friend, your best friend that you buried feelings for. How could he possibly feel the same way?

“Are you sure this isn’t the near death experience talking?” You ask. You run your hand up his arm and punch his ear lobe.

“I’ve loved you more deeply than I’ve let on for years. I can sense that you feel it too. I see no reason to run from it,” he smiles and it’s a relieved one.

“Spence, I love you too. I…” you stammer. He knows that. “I mean I’ve fallen for you too,” you giggle.

You scoot closer to him so that your legs intertwine with his and your chest is pressed into his. His smile is refreshed and hopeful, the grief still lingering in his eyes though.

He kisses you softly on the forehead and you nuzzle into his neck.

“Tonight we’ll just be kids again,” he sighs.

“And tomorrow?” You ask, squeezing him tighter.

“Tomorrow, I get to be wholeheartedly in love with you. No hiding, no restraints,” he whispers as his hands play in your hair.

Your heart soars and you can’t believe it. Your love. Your Spence, loves you back.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” you smile into him.

The two of you fall into content silence. You watch the tree branches sway in the moonlight outside until Spence falls asleep in your arms. It is then in the steadiness of his breathing that you find sleep as well.

[joyisresistance]

Strangers who aren't strangers at all

Humans have routines. Some of those routines are imposed by life's obligations, such as going to school or to work, and some are more voluntary, such as taking a daily walk along the same route, or frequenting a favorite coffee shop.

Sometimes, our routines coincide with the routines of other people. You might pass the same person on your way to your first morning class every weekday for an entire semester. You might see the same person on the bus on the way home from work every evening. You might pass the same person on a daily walk, or see the same person in the coffee shop.

I have found over the years that even though I rarely interact with these communities created by routines, beyond a little nod of greeting or acknowledgement, that I still end up creating a bond with these people, and on the rare occasions when I do strike up conversation, we often already know a lot about each other.

I used to walk my dog in the same park nearly every day at roughly the same time. It was a popular park, and there were a handful of people that I saw on a very regular basis. I never interacted with the vast majority of them, but I still noticed details. Oh, that lady got a new hairdo and it looks really nice! Gosh, that baby is growing a lot this summer. That little old man gets slower and slower, but it's impressive that he's still out here walking 3 miles every day!

And then my dog passed away, and I walked through the park without him. Suddenly, people who had never talked to me before, never petted my dog, never acknowledged my existence, came up to me to ask where my dog was. When I tearfully told them he was no longer with me, these strangers, who were not actually strangers at all but part of my unspoken community, offered sympathy, hugs, their own stories of love and loss. Just as I had noticed details about them in the years we had all shared the routine of walking in this park, they had noticed details about me. Even those who hadn't asked to pet my very charismatic gentleman of a dog had noticed his cheerful goofy demeanor and missed his presence.

The world might seem like it's full of strangers, but it turns out that we are all paying attention to each other, all noticing the ebbs and flows of each other's lives, and all ultimately a part of a community.

[lonerlikeswaffles]

Rivulet Anthro AU Info Sheet

With The Watcher coming out, my interest in Rainworld was revitalized; so I decided to maybe share some of the details of all of the Anthro designs I came up with but never really got to write down. If my motivation continues, there should things like this for each character, but I started off with Rivulet cause they’re pretty fun to draw (Excuse the horrible formatting)

Rivulet’s Personality / General facts below the cut!

Rivulet spends majority of their time being either aloof or hyperactive, although it’s mostly the latter. Their 5 yard stare makes it easy to assume they’re not paying attention or are daydreaming, but I like to think they’re actually very observant, and that like their physical speed, they process things a lot faster than their peers, the world just moves slower to them. They’re actually very intelligent when they choose to be, just most of the time prefer the chaotic energy of not really thinking before doing things. They use the bands on their arms and legs to encourage themselves to balance, since these bands are weighted, it means they’re effectively nerfing themselves in order to improve.

Rivulet’s Relationships with other characters

SpearMaster

SpearMaster and Rivulet are pretty close, since Riv makes a good listener, SM and Riv enjoy having insightful conversations about each others issues or opinions. Rivulet often shows their more intelligent and reasonable side when pairing alone with SM, and it helps get things off of his chest since he knows Hunter is sick.

Gourmand

Gourmand and Rivulet are in a relationship, so they’re naturally really close. Rivulet loves helping Gourmand with whatever task Gourmand has in mind, since Rivulet just loves helping her. Rivulet mostly helps with cooking, delivering Gourmand any ingredient they request in a (mostly) reasonable time frame. Rivulet usually hyper focuses on Gourmand whenever they’re together, admiring her, and taking up majority of Rivulet’s attention. When Rivulet and Gourmand aren’t doing chores, it’s usually spent chilling, or with Gourmand trying to convince Rivulet out of a totally not stupid and dangerous idea.

Artificer

Artificer and Rivulet are a chaotic duo, both well versed in combat, and receptive to having fun in the most dangerous ways possible. Rivulet’s hyperactivity gets put on hyperdrive whenever they’re with Arti, and they spend their time together doing ridiculous things like getting drunk, high, blowing things up, riding lizards, ect. They’re homies basically.

Saint

Rivulet and Saint are less close, but Saint knows Rivulet is fairly insightful, so occasionally, they just hang out and talk about stuff. Nothing too complicated though. They’re also good at working together when it comes to problem solving, since they’re both pretty resourceful.

Monk / Survivor

Rivulet sometimes babysits Survivor and Monk, usually occupying their time teaching them cool tricks or telling them about the places they traveled. Or just, chilling.

Inv / Enot

Rivulet treats Inv as kind of a younger sibling, playfully bullying them, and dragging them along on their adventures. Usually getting Inv into trouble, that Riv (Mostly) saves them from.

Hunter

Hunter and Rivulet aren’t close, but they’re friends. Rivulet interacts with Hunter mostly indirectly, like delivering ingredients for his medicine. But occasionally Riv will act directly, helping Hunter get things; Riv limits contact since they fear they might bother him.

That’s about it atm. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I’m not the best at answering stuff on time but, I’ll try !

[frudoo]

Hi. *shyly steps in*

How are you? I do hope u're doing fine. Idk if this ask fits ur rules, but i've been thinking about it since a while ago.

So, i had been ill with tuberculosis and pneumonia a few years ago, i recovered but i ended up with some issues on breathing. Nothing much but sometimes it's harsh when i run or climb up the stairs.

Plus with that, my feet also sucks, it hurts to the point i can't barely walk without feeling a sharp pain, much needle like. (skipping all the medical blah blah blah)

So, if you feel okay with it, could you write about a civilian!reader with the same stuff as me? Maybe with the 141 and some more, idk, feel free about it! (pls include simon he's my sweetheart)

So... that's it! I hope you have a nice week, take care! *shyly steps out of scene*

This is such a sweet concept; I hope you enjoy what I've written!!

Warnings: Slight mentions of chronic pain, more implied than detailed. Light smut. Fem!reader. MDNI.

Kyle Garrick:

     Your pace is slower than normal, even considering the usual differences in walking speed the both of you are used to. Biting the inside of his cheek, Kyle turns around to find your face contorted in pain. He frowns, holding onto your biceps to keep you in place.

     “S’it hurtin’, dove?” He asks sympathetically, honeyed brown eyes searching yours.

     “I’m fine, let’s just keep going,” you murmur, brushing him off and taking a few more steps forward.

     Kyle sighs at your stubborn insistence, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you aside. His back lands against the brick wall of one of the shops at the boardwalk, and he turns you in his grasp so that you’re forced to face him. He cocks an eyebrow, pressing his forehead to yours.

     “Why d’ya do this t’yaself?” Your fiance squeezes your sides fondly. “We’re done, yeah?”

     “Kyle, you need new clothes,” you pout, trying to pull away from him to no avail.

     “I’ll find summat online. Righ’ now, I’m takin’ ya home. Need t’rest ya feet.” 

     Ignoring your protests, he waves over a cab and gently pushes you into the backseat. He smiles apologetically when he follows suit, grabbing your hand as he gives the driver your address. 

     “I’m seriously fine,” you grumble, but when you look over, Kyle isn’t paying attention—his eyes are glued to his phone while he orders your favorite takeout.

     He seems to sense your displeasure because he slips his phone into his pocket and leans in to kiss you softly. Can’t complain if your mouth is occupied by another loving pair of lips, can you?

     Simon Riley:

     Your husband is buzzing with excitement, anxiously tapping his foot as he waits for the popcorn to finish in the microwave. The two of you have been planning this movie night for weeks and the day has finally come. His ears perk up when he hears you at the top of the stairs, but his grin drops when he hears your labored breathing. He opens the door of the microwave to stop the cooking process before walking over to you. You’re halfway descended, but your chest is heaving and you’re gripping the railing a bit too tight for comfort.

     “Back upstairs,” Simon commands bluntly, startling you. 

     “I’ve almost got it,” you try to reassure him, but he’s having none of it, meeting you where you stand and tossing you over his shoulder.

     “Simon!” You yelp, smacking his back with no real malice while he carries you right back up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. 

     Your hulking lover lays you down gently before propping you up by placing some pillows behind your back. He kneels beside the bed where you lay, grabbing your wrist and opening your hand to expose your palm to him. He begins to trace a square on your skin, looking up at you expectantly. 

     “Breathe,” he instructs, demonstrating what he wants you to do—deep breath in on one line, out on the other—smiling softly when you join him.

     After a few cycles, your lungs finally seem to fill up with enough air. Simon still doesn’t let you get up, carefully pushing you back down when you try. 

     “But you already got everything set up downstairs,” you pout, lifting your head to meet his lips when he leans in to kiss your forehead.

     He hums in amusement against your mouth, cupping your face in his big hands and smoothing his thumbs over your cheekbones.

     “More comfy ‘ere in bed w’ya anyway, baby.”

     John Price:

     A long sigh escapes John as he unlocks the door to your home. It’s been a long deployment, and all he’s thought about since the helo landed on home base is you in his arms. As he shuts the door behind him and unlaces his work boots, he’s met with the warm smell of a proper roast. After shrugging off his uniform coat, he slowly makes his way into the kitchen where you’re pulling the fresh meal out of the oven. He waits until you’ve carefully set it down before he gently places his hands on your hips and leans in to trail a line of kisses down your neck.

     “John!” You exclaim happily, quickly turning around and throwing yourself into his arms.

     He chuckles, holding you tightly as he presses his cheek to the top of your head. 

     “Missed you so much, darlin’ girl,” your husband hums, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger to make you look up at him.

     Your eyelids flutter shut as he leans in to kiss you deep and slow. His hands travel down to rest on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck. Carefully, he guides you backward toward the counter but stills when you wince in pain. John pulls away, thick brow furrowed in concern.

     “You've been on your feet all day?” He questions, bright blue eyes softening as they stare down at you—your silence tells him all he needs to know. 

     “Go have a seat, darlin’. I’ll dish up dinner,” he concludes, helping you over to the dining room table and pulling out a cushioned chair for you.

     John helps you prop your feet up onto the chair opposite of you, making sure you’re settled in before doing as he promised and plating the roast and vegetables you’d spent all day making. He places your dinner before you with a swift kiss to your hair before joining you with his own food. The pain is easily forgotten when your lover is home, his fingertips tracing circles on your thigh as you share this meal in silence.

     Johnny MacTavish:

     “Doin’ sae perfect fer me, hen,” Johnny praises with a low groan, large hands pawing at the fat of your thighs. 

     Sweat drips from his pores down his flushed face, cerulean eyes staring up at you in awe through dark lashes. He meets every roll of your hips with delirious enthusiasm, entranced by the feeling of your soft body atop his, the heat of you that surrounds him completely. As far as he’s concerned, you’re an angel sent just for him.

     Johnny knows your cues, though, more attuned to your body than his own. The second you falter in your pace, mouth falling open as you try to catch your breath, he stops you instantly. When you try to keep going, he pulls out and flips you onto your back, pinning you to the bed.

     “No’ gonna star’ again ‘til ye catch yer breath, lass,” Johnny says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. 

     “Johnny, please,” you whine, rocking your hips up to try and entice him. “I’m fine!”

     “Better star’ breathin’. Ah’d hate tae leave ye ‘igh an’ dry,” your lover teases, trailing kisses down your neck and collarbone until he reaches your chest.

     You sigh petulantly but comply anyway, sucking in a shaky inhale of air and blowing it out slowly. Johnny gives you a kiss right above your heart between every breath, kissing his way up the column of your throat and locking lips with you once your breathing has evened out and your chest no longer aches. You gasp when he slides back home and his fingers grip your jaw loosely. 

     “See wha’ ‘appens when ye listen?” He questions playfully, slowly building up a comfortable pace once more.

[moonstruckme]

Hello! Congratulations on 10K!

I just wanted to say, you are such an incredible writer – I love love love the attention you pay to small details and how intimately you know the characters you write! Your writing has brought me so much comfort and joy, I just can't get enough of it.

Can I please request secrets in the dark with poly marauders and letters g, x, y and z. Thank you! <3

Awe thank you so much angel, this really means the world. I'm lucky to have you reading <33

g = getting together; how did it all come about? were there any pre-existing relationships between them?

So, i could really see this one going a million different ways, but in most of my imaginings wolfstar was first. Like maybe it wasn't even an established relationship, maybe sirius told james about his crush on remus and in james' attempts to get them together he realizes that he has a crush on remus and oh no, oh shit, he's such a bad friend, and because he can't keep anything from sirius he does eventually tell him and between the three of them they work it out. If reader was growing up with them at this time I imagine she'd likely be in the same position as james, having crushes on multiple people and upset with herself for being so disloyal to her friends, and would thusly get roped into it along with james, but if they met after wolfstarbucks was established I think it'd be a rather simple case of sirius and james flirting with her instinctively, remus not hating it, and them all slowly but with decent communication figuring out how to be together. The idea that tha marauders' friendship was founded before anything else is really core to me

x = xoxo; who checks up on their partners a lot when they’re apart? do they call, or are texts enough to make them feel close?

I think Sirius gets anxious the fastest, he wants more reassurance that you're okay and that your relationship is still good and this results in lots of spontaneous calls whenever the insecurity hits him. James I think would be more likely to have regular or casual calls, just when he has a few minutes as he's walking somewhere and/or every night after supper, he wants to hear your voice and he misses you but it doesn't come from as desperate a place as Sirius'. For both of them, I think texts work just fine but they'll still feel deprived if they don't talk to you fairly often. Remus I think is unlikely to call you on his own—he never wants to be a bother—but he will text you and at the ends of calls might say something casual like "I'll be free tomorrow after work if you want to call again" so that you reach out to him. He wants to be on the phone with you but he doesn't often want to initiate, if that makes sense

y = yearn; who misses their partners the easiest (ie, calls them to hear their voices when all they’ve done is run to the grocery store)?

Answered in another ask <3

z = zealous; who was especially eager in their pursuit of the relationship? was anyone more reserved in their want for it?

I think James was probably the most eager about this. Sirius was a close second, but I imagine him having some insecurities around sharing and being unsure how things would work out with all four of you, scared to jeopardize either the romantic or platonic relationships he already has. Remus I think feels similarly, but he's more okay with it, he just wants to take things slower than James is so he's probably the one tempering you all the most and trying to make sure you don't fuck it up before you get a chance to really sink into it

[steddieas-shegoes]

powdered sugar nose

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'cooking together' rated: M wc: 711 cw: food as a way to flirt, allusions to sex, fade to black sex tags: established relationship, fluff, subtle praise kink

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The pie wasn't turning out right, and Steve was trying not to panic.

Wayne only asked for one thing for his birthday and it was this pie that Steve had assured him he could make.

"Glaring at it probably doesn't fix it, sweetheart," Eddie said from across the kitchen.

"Well, it's the only thing I haven't tried," Steve put his hands on his hips and stared down at the burnt crust.

"You know, Wayne would understand if you can't do it. I'm sure he'd be fine with a cake."

"I'm not fine with a cake! I promised pie and he's getting a pie!"

Eddie threw his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay! Can I at least try to help?" Eddie started rolling up his sleeves.

"Fine. But if this one doesn't turn out right, you're banned from the kitchen."

"Deal."

They worked for the next 30 minutes or so, layering the crust along the bottom of the pie dish, making sure the blackberry filling was the perfect consistency, that the crust being layered on top was done in the exact design from the picture Wayne gave Steve.

Eddie, admittedly, was good at this, his years of delicate work on mini figures making him more than patient and pay close attention to detail.

He read out the recipe for Steve, taking it one step at a time so it felt less overwhelming.

He gave Steve kisses on his neck or shoulder every time they finished a part of the recipe, not letting him get distracted, but letting him know he did good.

Steve smiled to himself, actually enjoying the process of it all now. He felt like he was zoned in on making this pie perfectly.

Once it was in the oven, he set his timer and took in a deep breath.

Eddie lifted him up onto the counter, peppering his neck with kisses, leaving him gasping and giggling.

Eddie's kisses turned into bites, then sucking on his skin, finding every sensitive spot between his jaw and collarbone.

Steve moaned long and loud, throwing his head back as Eddie marked him up.

"When this comes out perfect, I'm gonna fuck you right here," Eddie groaned, holding his hips still when Steve tried to push them closer.

"What if it doesn't?"

"It will. We made it together."

Steve melted, leaning in for a much slower kiss, not quite as hungry.

They were both worked up, more than Eddie probably intended, but they didn't go any further, neither of them willing to risk ruining the pie.

When the timer went off, Steve was resting his forehead against Eddie's shoulder while Eddie rubbed his hands up and down his back.

"If this isn't right, I might cry," Steve sighed, pulling away so he could get off the counter.

"I might cry with you."

Steve opened the oven door, took the pie out, and carefully placed it on the stove.

"It looks...right."

Steve almost couldn't believe it.

He poked the top to make sure it stayed sturdy unlike the first one that collapsed the second he touched it.

It did.

"Holy shit. We did it."

Eddie's arms wrapped around him from behind, his lips brushing against his cheek.

"We did. Told you. Just needs the powdered sugar sprinkled on top. Would you like to do the honors?" Eddie let him go as he spoke to reach for the sifter.

Steve lightly dusted the powdered sugar on top, unable to stop smiling at what they managed to accomplish.

Eddie reached a hand over his shoulder and stuck a finger in the powdered sugar in the sifter.

"Hey!" Steve yelled, turning to face him with his brows furrowed.

Eddie poked his nose, leaving behind a circle of powdered sugar.

"Looks sweet enough to eat," Eddie smirked.

"No pie until tomorrow," Steve pointed a finger at him.

"I wasn't talking about the pie."

"Oh," Steve blushed, turning back to the pie to set the sifter down on the counter. "Well, it did turn out perfect..."

"It did..."

"So..."

Eddie lifted him up and set him on the farthest counter from the pie.

"Think I need a taste to make sure you're sweet enough," Eddie reached down to start unbuttoning his pants.

"And if I'm not?"

"I try again tomorrow."