#sniff hem hem 🥺

[psiioniicarts]

I routinely unfollow and refollow you so you're always at the top of my following list and I can go check to see if you've posted anything without having to scroll

I love your art so much <3

Thank you!!! Awww you guys are so nice :))) I try my best!!

[ddejavvu]

Mean! Logan loves wet pussy and loves how you get so leaky when he’s around. He loves to finger and spit on your pussy at random times, adding to the mess 🥺💜

Simple - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, spitting, vaginal fingering, don't like don't read.

god anon. 'mean!logan loves wet pussy' aaaand it's all over the screen ☝️ thank you for phrasing that so hot i wuv you

Logan's acute sense of smell can be a curse sometimes, but it's never more of a blessing than when he's around you. He can always smell your arousal- always. You're more cunt than brain around Logan, and he adores the way your pussy always starts leaking at the smallest of gestures by him. A smirk, a hand run through his hair, even a well-timed wink can have you wet in your panties, and Logan's always eager to sniff you out.

"You know this really is a problem," He hums, turning where you're cuddled close to his chest and murmuring over the movie playing in front of you.

"Hm?" You shift, your leg hiked further up over his thighs as you blink up at him, "Wha'ss'a problem?"

"You make a mess anytime you're with me." He laments, faux-disappointment clouding his voice, "S'a shame you ruin all your panties."

"What?" You ask, incredulous but not more than you are bashful as you try wriggling away from his grip. But Logan doesn't let you, and you're caught in his muscular grip as he drags you back towards him.

"Don't act like you don't know what I mean. Here, I'll prove it." Logan's hand slips deftly into the waistband of your sleep shorts, bypassing the hem of your panties just as skillfully. All of a sudden there's thick, rough fingers prodding at your pussy, and you cry out in shock as Logan swipes two of his fingers through your puffy slit.

"Look at this," He showcases his evidence, a copious amount of your slick arousal now smeared on his fingers, "All I've done is lay here with you- what is it, the way I smell? My hand on your back? That's all it takes to get you creaming?"

You can't offer up an adequate response in time, mortification sucking every coherent thought from your brain.

"I- no, that's not-!"

Logan chuckles deeply, like he'd predicted that, "Simple thing, aren't'cha? I like it. C'mere, open up for me, honey."

He pats once, twice against your thigh, rough enough to leave a stinging sensation in the wake of his large palm. You don't quite comprehend what 'open up' means until he's scooting you across the couch himself, placing your back up against the arm and spreading your legs to get a glimpse of what's between them.

Your sleep shorts and panties are easily moved out of Logan's way; he tucks two fingers into the waistbands of each and tugs them aside. He's revealed a look at your glistening cunt, now leaking from the way he'd jammed his fingers inside and let your arousal leak out.

"You're soaked." He notes, eyes roving over your drooling cunt, "And all I had to do was be around you."

"Logan, I-" You feel like you should apologize for being so- simple.

His jaw tightens and rolls slightly, but you're not expecting him to lean forwards and spit between your legs. The glob of his saliva lands directly on your already-sticky slit and mixes immediately with your slick, only furthering the obscenity between your thighs.

"There, even wetter." He grunts, taking a rough thumb and smearing his spit into your skin. He lacks grace as he rubs the pad of his thumb into your pussy, but that doesn't mean the sight of him carefully tucking his spit away into your cunt doesn't make you want to cum right then and there.

"Keep that in there," He instructs, as if you have a choice, and he's suddenly broken from his trance as he pulls his fingers away and turns back to the movie. He tucks them promptly into his mouth, eyes on the screen, humming at the taste as he methodically licks them clean, "And later, I'll finger it out of you. You can squirt it all over my face, yeah?"

He grins at you like he's expecting you to shake on it, but at your mortified squeal he scoffs fondly, "Alright, alright, pretend you wouldn't like that. But I will lick you clean, honey."

[the-kr8tor]

COMPLETELY FORGOT TO CHECK UP ON YOUR WELL-BEING I'M ASHAMED OF MYSELF

How are you Katy?

I have another twins request (surprise surprise)

The twins being sick (my poor babies 🥺)

And Reader being so tired after trying to look after them because they're so clingy for Mummy and they won't stop sniffling (nooooo my poor children)

And Hobie coming back from patrol as early as possible after sensing his girls' discomfort and taking care of the babies (my eyes are filling with tears)

Awwwww, they're already my kids in my head, that sounds so sad but I love them 😭🥺

Hello, ml! I'm fine, thank you for asking ❤️ I hope you like this one!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, description of illness, brief mention of vomit, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU, Dad AU, Dad! Hobie, Mum! Reader. Fluff.

Dad AU Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your shirt is covered in a combination of toddler snot and a hint of throw up. You would've changed by now but with the twins clinging onto you like you're their lifeline has you practically glued on their sides. Billie refuses to let you go with her tiny hands balled around the collar of your (Hobie's) old band shirt. She sniffs relentlessly, lashes wet with unshed tears. Meanwhile, her sister, Ramona has finally fallen asleep on your shared bed. She holds onto her baby blanket with the little guitars embroidered on it like it's the last cookie in the cookie jar. Still, even in her sleep she still refuses to let you go with her other fist enclosed around the hem of your shirt.

Sighing, your eyelids grow heavy and your stomach grumbles from hunger. You've only had sips of their chicken noodle soup you made a few hours ago. They wouldn't even have a little sip if you don't try it before them like a taste tester for a couple of princesses afraid of getting ‘poisoned.’ You have to start telling them the usual fairytales instead of actual history. You guess it was your fault when you accidentally left the telly open on the history channel instead of teletubbies like you were supposed to do. You kind of blame Hobie and his relentless kisses whenever he gets home, effectively distracting you from changing the channel to a more toddler appropriate one.

But thanks to the cooling weather, not even history lessons could calm them down from their fever and sniffles. This is the first time they've gotten this sick since you've brought them home from the hospital when they were just newborns. Everyone was right when they told you that when one kid gets sick, the other will surely follow. You can handle it, but with your growing hunger and fatigue, you really need Hobie to get home now.

You can't blame him for leaving while they're sick, the city needs him when he heard from his radio that goblin’s wreaking havoc downtown and the team couldn't handle it all on their own. He promised he'll be back quickly with meds and hot soup to quell their illness. It's been a few hours since then, now you're starting to worry. Add that with the girls' sickness acting up, your nerves are through the roof.

Mona gurgles in her sleep, her tiny fists unfurling around your shirt for only a brief second before clamping back down. Patting her back, you feel how clammy she is under her pastel pink pajamas.

“Mummy?” Billie lifts her curly head up from the crook of your neck, lips pouting, and snot dripping from her nostrils. She pats your cheek with her sweaty hand, an indication that her fever's going down so as her sister's, thank goodness.

“Yes, baby?” You whisper to her sweetly.

“‘m hungry.” Her frown deepens, eyes similar to Hobie's are staring back at you through wet lashes. “I want biscuits.”

You remember when she could barely keep the noodles down, moreso if it's cookies instead. But if cookies are what she wants, then cookies she shall get. Maybe it'll magically cure her. “Okay, but you have to let mummy go so I can get it for you—”

“No!” She immediately shoves her face back in the crook of your neck, then the sniffles follow. “Stay!”

You rub her back up and down to placate her. “Mac, your sister's sleeping.”

Billie kicks her tiny socked feet about, hands tugging relentlessly at your shirt. “Mummy, stay!” Cue the tears.

“Okay, okay, mummy will stay.” You coo at her, wincing when Ramona stirs from her slumber.

“I want biscuits.” She once again lifts her head up, sobs quieting down to a soft sniffle. “...Sorry.”

Your heart softens at her adorable apology, she definitely reminds you of her father. “It's alright, promise you'll be quiet for Mon-mon?” Billie nods, arms enveloping around your neck as you begin to sit up. Now for the daunting part, you have to escape from Mona's hold without waking her up.

Hand holding onto Billie, while the other gently unfurls Mona's fingers around your shirt, you take your time lest you have another grumpy and sick kid in your hands. With her pinky finally letting go after you tug at it, you smile victoriously while fixing your hold on Billie.

The bed squeaks as you stand up, wincing at the sound, you look back at the still sleeping Ramona curled around her baby blanket. Sighing, you stare at Billie, who has her index on her lips in a shushing motion. You tamp down a chuckle at her antics.

With one step at a time, you tiptoe around the messy room. The twins' clothes and towels are littered around the floors, same with tissues that have managed to miss the bin when you threw it haphazardly.

“Mummy, quiet?” Billie whispers or tries to when she still hasn't figured out how to actually whisper.

“Yes, baby, we need to be quiet.” As you get to to the door, the cold doorknob is stinging against your palm, the bedroom window squeaks open and before you could whirl around towards the sound— Hobie's heavy boots are already thumping loudly against the hardwood. “Hobie—”

“I got the meds and the soup—” Mona's sudden wailing stops him in his tracks. Tears roll down her chubby cheeks as she kicks her feet under the blankets, her rough coughs hurting your chest. “Ah shi—” you give Hobie a look. “— sorry.” He winces just as when Billie joins the cacophony of crying.

—

The sheets have been changed, the girls are showered and fed. Their temperatures are completely normal now, and their coughing and sniffing is down to a minimum. You're also fed thanks to Hobie's famous sandwich he made specially for you. And thanks to the shared effort and teamwork, both girls are sleeping and you've finally cleaned yourself up.

As you get out of the shower, you catch Hobie pressing gentle kisses atop Billie and Mona's heads. He pecks them both equally, adding one to Billie and Mona simultaneously before repeating it when he thinks that the kisses aren't equal to one another. Billie's cheek is squished on Hobie's side while Mona curls around his other side sweetly.

“They won't grumble if you don't give them the equal number of kisses.” You whisper to him, wet hair still clinging to your cheek as you put on a clean shirt. Fully dressed, you see him tilt his head with a playful smile tugging at his pierced lips. You smile back, admiring him in his soft clothes with your socks on his feet. You cross the small distance towards him whilst he tries to reach out towards you with his arms full of sleeping toddlers. “But I will.”

He makes grabby hands at you. “Kiss?”

Sitting down next to him, he scooches as much as he can while the girls are clinging to him in their sleep. “How could I say no?” With your soft lips on him, you kiss him back gently until he's satisfied that you got an even number of kisses. His eyes are still closed when you pull away. “You sure you're okay?” You reach over Billie to fix his windblown eyebrow, index laying it down carefully.

Hobie leans tiredly against your hand, and in turn you cradle his cheek, thumb running along his jaw. “‘m fine, nothin’ I couldn't handle. Are you?”

“Well, I don't smell like sick anymore.” You shrug, beaming down at him. He chuckles softly, neck craning to kiss the pads of your fingers. “And you're home safe and sound, I'm okay.”

He sighs, eyes completely soft for you. “I'll stay with you this time, and the next, I promise. ‘m sorry I left you alone.” The warm light of the lamp shines on his apologetic face.

You lean closer, careful not to wake either of the girls nestled in each of his arms. “I know, but you can't promise that. I knew what I was getting into when we had them. And I'm perfectly fine with that as long as you come home to us…” Your nose nudges his own, he hums slowly, like a cat purring in content. “...Preferably in one piece.”

Hobie chuckles, heart eyes blinking slowly at you, and pursed lips reaching towards the tip of your nose. “Thank you, love.”

Your palm rests on his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat through his (your) shirt. “Part of the job, Hobie.” With a smile, you feel him tug at your collar, pulling you down towards him further to meet with his lips. “Careful, we might wake them up—” A sneeze rises up your throat, suddenly releasing it on Hobie's shocked face. The girls barely stir. “Shi– sorry.” You sniff, throat feeling like it's full of spikes.

“Ah shit.”

[seiwas]

sniff hiccs i’m back begging for mattsun + friends -> lovers + stomach (ALSO ILY)

thanks for sending saint!! sorry i'm getting to this so late, ily 🥺

mattsun + stomach + friends -> lovers

contains: pining mattsun, christmas fluff!, seijoh 4 dynamics bc ofc they are a scheming conniving bunch, kind of ambiguous?? but there is def something, suggestive innuendos, fluff!!!!!!!!

ugly christmas sweaters aren't issei's thing. not one bit.

they're itchy, first and foremost, and you'd think, with something that horrendous, they might as well have some kind of redeeming quality (like wool-soft thermal lining)—but nope, they're equally as uncomfortable as they are ugly.

the hem of this year's sweater, in particular, rides up his disproportionally long torso, making it impossible for him to reach forward or upward for anything. the cuffs of his sleeves land at that awkward length that just barely covers his wrists, leaving his fingertips cold. for issei, an essential criteria of any good sweater is that the sleeves must be long enough for him to pull over his knuckles—a quality that this one definitely does not have.

plus, it's ugly. (did he already mention that?)

"oh shit," takahiro wheezes, holding in his laughter as he reads the text on issei's sweater. he bites down his side comment and nods his head instead, "i respect it."

issei stares at him, deadpan.

since arriving at hajime's apartment for your group's yearly christmas celebration, issei's kept himself confined to the kitchen. there are many reasons for this: one, the alcohol is much easier to refill back here; two, not everyone's arrived yet; and three—

"'unwrap me, baby?'" hajime steps into the space, eyebrow raised as he tilts his head at the very obvious red bow adorning issei's sweater. the gold text on the fabric is even more evident.

"i swear," takahiro tells hajime as he swings an arm around issei's shoulder, "if this isn't his profession of lo―"

"shut the fuck up," the taller male elbows him as hajime chuckles across the room, "it's the stupid theme."

issei hates christmas sweaters, and yet every year, without fail, you manage to rope him in to wearing one away. regardless of its stupid theme.

"well, they should be around ten minutes out," hajime replies, checking the notifications on his smart watch, "so if you plan to… you know…”

issei shrugs, taking another sip from his glass of gin, "s'just a small crush."

but everyone knows it's much more than that.

.

you and tooru arrive with arms full of gifts. one by one, you approach them, present in one hand as you go in for a hug with the other. it's a typical, normal thing you do, but his heart instantly hammers the moment you stand in front of him. the soft smile you give him is one he knows well, and if he wants to be a little hopeful, it's one he thinks you give to him, alone, too.

your arm wraps around issei's waist as you lean in for a hug, the blend of your shampoo and perfume hitting him all at once. the alcohol has done much to ease his mind, but little to dull his senses, his arm instinctively bringing you closer. when you linger in his hold for just that bit longer, all his thoughts turn silent.

everyone’s known of this thing between you and issei for a while; it's hard not to notice after all the years of mutual pining and undeniable chemistry. it’s even gotten to the point that tooru’s added the event of you and issei getting together to his christmas wishlist.

but, you always say you don't think issei sees you like that, because if he did, he would have said something by now. which, to issei's defense, the only reason he hasn't said anything is because the last time someone tried to ask you out, you said, "i'm not looking for a relationship right now."

takahiro argues that it's been a few years since then, and that your answer would have been very different should issei have been the one to ask. but still.

"'santa baby, oh baby yes baby,'" hajime squints at your christmas sweater, reading the words slowly.

"dude, you have to stop reading that shit out loud," takahiro groans.

tooru laughs from the couch, "unwrap me, baby’ and that? cute! you’re talking through your sweaters."

issei's expression remains unbothered as he watches you turn shy, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before walking over to join tooru on the couch.

"at least issei's the only one who takes the themes seriously,” you jokingly huff and pout.

.

issei should have known his friends were up to no good tonight, with the outright teasing and the weird way hajime’s been acting this entire time.

the kitchen is surprisingly full right after dinner; cleanup duty is typically left to you and issei because it’s the only other thing the both of you can do—plus, it makes for a perfect combination: your speediness in cleaning the countertops and his ease in handling dinner plates make for an efficient team.

but tonight, everyone’s seemed to fit themselves into the tiny space, pushing you closer and closer to one another.

“mattsun, can you pass that big bowl in the cupboard?” tooru calls out, pointing at the space overhead.

issei’s gaze follows the direction of his finger, his arm reaching up high to get it.

then, it happens too quickly after that.

from an ‘accidental’ bump to a slight shove, hajime backs up into takahiro who manages to push you out of balance, leading you to cling on to the next best thing to keep you standing—

which just so happens to be issei’s stomach, lean muscles and smooth skin on full display from the way his christmas sweater has ridden up while reaching for the bowl that tooru just so happened to coincidentally ask for.

he shivers almost instantly—whether from the coolness of your fingertips or the plain fact that it’s you, he has yet to determine.

you look flustered, apologising profusely as you turn to move away, but as everyone else seems to exit the space, issei puts his hand over yours to keep you in place.

the action makes you still.

“you okay?” he manages, still a little dazed as his eyes look for yours.

the stare you return is a mixed bag of shock, confusion, and uncertainty—as if you’re not sure if you’re reading into this correctly.

so maybe it’s the alcohol, but when he jokingly asks, “taking ‘unwrapping me’ literally, huh?” while motioning to his sweater, he doesn’t think much beyond the intention of trying to lighten up the mood—of trying to make you laugh despite the awkwardness of the situation.

your eyebrows shoot up briefly before you dissolve into stifled laughs. the hand you’d rested on his stomach relaxes and you feel him do the same, his subtle sigh of relief blowing small wisps of hair away from your forehead.

this is enough for him—just the two of you in the kitchen, laughing over another one of these mishaps like it’s happened plenty of times before (because it has; too many times that he wonders if it’s normal for friends to find themselves in these situations).

but you push it just that bit further and tease him back, snorting as you mimic the words on your sweater, “guess i should say ‘santa baby, oh baby yes baby.’”

and if you both notice the evident hardness pressing into your thigh, neither you nor issei says a thing about it.

a/n: this def crosses a boundary in their friendship and they get together after a few days, just in time for new year’s 😌 unmentioned but reader has also had the fattest crush on mattsun since forever, they’re just really good at hiding it. and reader also thinks that mattsun is just naturally flirty with everyone else (he isn’t).

[ervotica]

Okay okay okay so for the celebration, Bellamy with crybaby!reader who maybe gets sick after eating those berries in season 1 and he's just doting on her and being all sweet 🥺🥺

bellamy blake x crybaby!reader ✩ i made him a lil mean n teasing but it’s all in good fun

Bellamy scrapes his palms over your temples, slicking back the flyaway hairs that curl over your ears as you flit your head from side to side, eyes wide and glossy. He may not be able to see the hallucinations that plague your mind, but your frantic expression is enough to have him crouching next to you, dragging his hands over your skin as you sniffle and cry in that warbling voice.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Slow down.”

Your hands tremble as you hiccup and rock on the balls of your feet, digging soft fingertips into the earth beneath you.

“Can’t-” you gasp. “Too much.”

Bellamy’s brow creases with a frown, and he hooks his hands under your armpits to drag you upward, his chest pressed to yours.

“Easy,” he coos. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

You hiccup, ducking your head. He follows your watery gaze diligently, petting the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you warble, pursing your lips around a sob. “I’m sorry.”

Your pupils are blown wide, no doubt another effect of the jobi nuts, your body almost bursting at the seams with untethered energy.

“Baby.” Bellamy tries not to laugh, he really does, but the way you’re surveying him like he’s grown two heads is a little funny.

You purl sadly; your idea of a scolding, though far too soft.

“Don’t laugh, Bell,” you cry, moonlit tears making headway down your cheeks. He tuts, gathering the wetness at the corners of your eyes to brush them away.

“I’m not,” he huffs, though the tilt of his lips gives him away. You tip back into the dirt with a thud, palms out behind you as you stare up at the star dotted sky.

“Y’are,” you mewl.

He sighs, tilting his head to watch you. “Stop being a baby.”

That really sets you off. You sniff, rubbing at your eyes as though you can plug the steady flow of tears. “You’re so mean!”

Hooking his arm under your knees, he drapes you over his lap, your expression rather akin to a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry,” he snorts, chest shaking with a laugh. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Hate you,” you sniffle. He pouts, leaning down to smear a kiss over your jaw.

“I love you too, my baby,” he murmurs, voice rough and grating against your skin. You lean into him involuntarily.

“Don’t feel good,” you grouse, going soft and pliable in his lap. Your head bumps against his chest with a thud.

“I know.” He smooths his hand over your head again, snickering as you go limp at the touch. “You wanna lay down?”

“No,” you whine.

“Yes, you do,” he corrects. “C’mon.”

“Bell.”

He mimics your warbling cadence beat for beat, bending at the waist to murmur soft apologies against your cheek. You lean into him, clutching the hem of his t-shirt as though his touch might make your vision stop spinning.

Camp is full of delinquents in similar situations to your own, many lying in the dirt next to you, a few stumbling in pursuit of the visions that pervade their senses. You sniff sadly.

Bellamy gathers you up and squeezes you tightly, lips pressed firmly over your temple. “It’ll pass soon.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, baby. Promise,” he mumbles, breath hot against your face.

“Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs. “Love you too, brat.”

[jhoneybees]

70s smut 🙏🏼

Ooo 70s smut! Now I got two requests for this so hopefully this will be alright for both of them, thank you for requesting :)

Honestly, might be my new favourite fic that I have written🥺

Soulmates.

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X Reader

Warnings/triggers: Third person pov, use of Y/n, Smut hehehe, fingering, p in v, size kink, swearing(one word), mentions of God and heaven, sweet love making *sniff*🥺, fairy tale beliefs(No one can change my mind, I believe in them☝️)

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a (if you want to be added to my taglist for my fics, feel free to comment!)

Enjoy my lovelies!

_____________________________________________

Elvis just feels so lonely.

Lonely and tired of doing two shows every damn day of the week, lonely and sad from the aches and pains he has all over his body and lonely of not having someone that has a similar heart like his.

He wishes that he could have someone to hold him and love him for who he is.

He wishes to maybe meet his soulmate…if they are real, he thinks to himself.

_____________________________________________

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Glancing up from the bible in his hand, Elvis stares at the front door of his hotel suite.

Closing his eyes as he sighs, he tosses the bed covers aside. Grunting as he stands himself up by using the nightstand for balance he makes his way to the door. Swinging it open with a bit of force, he groans seeing Jerry and Charlie. “What do ya want?” he asks rudely whilst bringing a hand up to rub his face.

“We brought someone, Boss.” Jerry answers with a nervous look on his face.

Elvis groans again and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why?” his tone, low.

Charlie opens his mouth. “Well we’ve noticed you’ve been-”

“Get to the point.”

“Because we’re worried, Boss.” Jerry cuts in.

The thing is about Jerry and Charlie bringing someone to Elvis, they are both genuinely worried about him, he isn’t just their boss but their friend and not only did they find a random person but a young woman who’s been a fan of his ever since his ‘GI Blues’ days. They know that he feels the most comfortable around women because of their soothing nature but something about this girl they’ve met, they think she’s the perfect match for someone like Elvis.

Elvis lifts his head and looks between the two men, staying quiet with only a slight huff.

“You’re not yourself.” Jerry finishes making Elvis keep his stare on him.

“Where are they?” he asks with a sigh, rubbing his forehead.

Watching as both Jerry and Charlie step to one side, Elvis blinks surprised seeing a pretty girl step forward giving him a shy smile.

“Boss, this is Y/n, Y/n this is Elvis.” Jerry smiles.

“Hi…”

“...Hi” he shakes her hand, hearing the slightest gasp leave her lips and his heart skipping a beat.

“You two have fun.” Charlie says before following Jerry down the hallway, leaving the two alone.

His eyes scan her up and down, slowly. Watching her as she turns her head back to look at him.

Elvis doesn’t know what it is about her but she’s fascinating him.

“...Wanna come in?”

_____________________________________________

Courteously, Y/n sits herself down on his couch. She quietly looks up at him as he switches the room’s light on and walks out for a while before coming back with sunglasses on, giving her a small smile.

Making his way over to sit down near her with a soft grunt.

“They’re worried ‘bout me, huh?” He jokes and chuckles about the men who brought her up to his suite, earning a sweet laugh.

“So uh…yer from Vegas?” he asks after a bit of silence fills the room, absentmindedly wiping his finger under his nose and looking over at the woman. Getting a glimpse of her cheeks growing pink.

“No…” She breathes out with a quiet laugh and fidgets with the hem of her skirt.

“I-I’m from Memphis, just…um… staying here to see some of your shows…” Her words trailing off to almost a whisper.

“You’re a fan?” his voice, surprisingly soft.

She lifts her gaze and nods shyly. “U-Uh big fan.”

Her heart skips a beat at his soft laugh. “Well ‘s nice ta finally meet ya.”

He smiles and she smiles back.

“How long have ya been a fan for?” he asks, to which she shakes her head.

“Oh, ever since GI blues came out…” looking back down at her lap with a shy grin, oblivious to Elvis’ eyes trailing up her legs.

“Do ya…have a favourite song?”

“Don’t really have a favourite…I-I like them all…I enjoy the country, bluesy sort of songs the most...”

Y/n purses her lips and she looks over at Elvis, seeing him nod. “I like ‘em too, my favourite kind of songs.”

The more they talk, the more deep the conversation gets. The two of them don’t know how but they just click straight away and it seems like cupid has shot two arrows into both of their hearts.

The way her eyes soften at Elvis’ smile and the way Elvis’ mouth grows dry from her angelic laugh would show everyone in the whole of Las Vegas that they’ve already fallen deeply in love. It couldn’t possibly be attraction at this point because they have shared their life stories and struggles with each other.

The woman had only met Elvis 4 hours ago.

“C’mere baby, want ya near.” Elvis says and the girl happily obliges.

Quietly shuffling to where he sits, she slides right in next to him as he holds his arm over the back of the couch. She lifts her eyes to look at him, seeing how gorgeous he is up close, with the way his pores decorate his face so beautifully and his cute nose being the perfect shape to bring all his facial features together, her heart beats wickedly at the thought of how soft his lips would feel against hers.

“Somethin’ on my face?” he asks with a chuckle.

Y/n looks into his blue eyes through his sunglasses, her cheeks growing pinker as she nervously laughs. “N-not at all, jus’...”

He removes his shades.

She doesn't know what to say when he’s admiring her like that, with his lashes framing his sultry eyes as they admire her face lovingly and the corner of his mouth curls up.

It’s as if he’s an archaeologist who’s discovered the most dazzling thing he has ever seen in his life.

“...E-Elvis” her voice, soft.

He lifts his gaze and when he locks eyes with her, they both feel their souls are drifting out from one’s parted lips into the other.

They’re so close, combined scents of floral and luxury fill their nostrils. The both of them watch each other’s eyes carefully.

“Y/n…can I…kiss you?”

Just then as the woman gives her consent, they melt at the slightest touch, lips pressing so gently against each other like they’re afraid to hurt the other person. They both close their eyes and Elvis leans himself forward with his other hand moving to rest on the side of her waist with Y/n automatically climbing to straddle his lap.

Cupping his face with her delicate hands, warm tingles shiver up her spine and as Elvis pushes his tongue inside of her mouth, she pushes herself more onto him, wanting to feel every single little touch and she melts even more from his large, firm hands grazing up her thighs going under her minidress. Her breath grows shaky and shallow as he squeezes her ass through her panties.

“Elvis…” She whispers as he pulls away, moving her hands down to rub his chest, the nice silk material under her palms.

“Let’s…Let’s go ta m-my bedroom.” he breathes and she nods willingly.

Pulling on his hand to help him stand up, Y/n’s quick to grab his sunglasses he left discarded on the couch next to him, earning a gentle smile from him. “Thank you, baby.” She smiles back, walking with him through the archway to go into his bedroom, She watches as he switches the light on on the wall.

Her heart pounds in her chest as he pulls her in by the waist and crashes his lips onto hers again with more passion. Sighing contentedly as her arms go to wrap around his neck, following his steps until the back of her calves hit the foot of the bed and she falls backwards, taking Elvis with her making him grunt loudly at the impact and the girl winces at his sunglasses hitting her nose.

“Oh I-I’m sorry, honey.” Elvis worryingly cups her cheek.

Y/n shakes her head and her chest vibrates against his as she laughs. “It’s okay.”

Her hand moves to slide his sunglasses off. “Better if we get these out of the way.” she giggles and pecks his lips. Her smile falters a little when he grimaces and the realisation hits. “O-Oh you want the light turned off, don’t you?”

“No-no ‘s a’right, hon-”

“It’s okay, we can turn it off, I don’t mind.” She reassures quietly and smiles again as his eyes soften and he rolls off from on top of her body.

Y/n pads back to the bed after turning the lights off and steps out of her heels as she looks over the man’s figure, he’s moved to rest his back against the headboard with only the nightlife of Las Vegas shining through the window showing his face. A face that has guilt written all over.

She waltzes over to crawl onto the mattress and sit on his lap again. She doesn't know how she knows what he’s thinking but she just does. “Wouldn’t want ya getting sore eyes…” observing his facial expression carefully.

“Thank you…” he mumbles gently, she can’t help but beam at his sudden gentle demeanour.

“You’re welcome… " Her fingers going up to caress his cheek, a strange urge overcomes her as both of their lips are a few millimetres away. Something she feels like she needs to say. “...It’s the least I can do to…ease the pain.” before she envelops Elvis’ lips in a delicate kiss.

This time it’s his turn to melt.

Elvis moans into her mouth, she starts to roll her hips over his strained pyjama pants and his eyebrows furrow at the mind spinning feeling of her clothed sex rubbing against his and she grazes her fingers up to unbutton his shirt.

He pulls away and breathes hard, careful to stop her hands. “H-Honey…” A wave of insecurity flowing through his brain.

The woman observes his eyes and leans in to kiss him and brush the tips of her fingers over his chest hair. “I know…” She continues to finish undoing his shirt.

Kissing his ear and cheek. “You’re gorgeous.”

Her heart feels like it’s as light as a feather as her hand runs through his soft hair, she sighs through her nose as her lips press onto his once again, body moving from instinct when his palms glide back to her ass. Squeezing it so gently that it sends chills to her pussy, making it throb.

Elvis’ groan rumbles in his throat, sliding his large hand down as she lifts her hips to press her mouth more onto his, his head tips back at the position and he can feel the warmth coming from the place in between her legs.

Hooking his index into her panties and pulling it to the side, he uses his middle finger to drag up her wet slit, smirking against her hearing a soft moan.

His cock twitches at how she mewls from him touching her sensitive clit. He’s massaging it and taking control of her body, her hips rock against his palm.

“God, Elvis…” She lets out, gasping at how his skilled hand slides down to her dripping heat. Her eyes fluttering at his finger swirls around the entrance like a predator circles their prey.

She breathes out a brief smile at his words. “Seems like I know all the tricks, hm?”

A breathy moan rolls off her tongue as he pushes his middle finger inside, pumping it in and out at a steady slow pace. “Ta make ya come undone, so easily.” his voice, deep and raspy. She doesn’t know how he does it so effortlessly. Bringing all these noises she didn’t know she could make out of her from just using one finger.

“Please…” Y/n whispers. She's got no idea why She’s saying please, her mind is so overwhelmed by how he curls his finger, rubbing it against the ridges of her walls.

It’s making her have such an awakening experience and it’s not her first but her gut is telling her this time is different. Very different.

“So wet…” he growls, placing a kiss on her throat as she throws her head back.

“So tight.” dragging his finger out and along her bundle of nerves, he rubs big and slow circles on her hot button.

Lulling her head to look down at Elvis, seeing his eyes shine with passion. “Panties off f’me?”

She whimpers and nods obediently. Moving off of his lap to slip her panties off and toss them off the bed as she lays flat on her back with her legs spread, waiting as Elvis slides his pants off to reveal his hard, bouncing, weeping, red at the tip cock.

Her mouth waters at the thought of how good he would feel so deep inside of her.

“C-Can yer ‘elp, baby?” Elvis shyly asks, snapping her out of her thoughts. She helps him move to kneel between her legs.

“You’re so big…” she utters. Craning her neck up to look down in the middle of both of their bodies to see his dick swinging towards her pussy.

Elvis grins widely, trailing his eyes down her goddess looking figure. “And you’re so beautiful.” guiding the head of his cock to her hole, he inches himself in and the tightness already makes his eyes roll back.

“F*ck…” Y/n sighs.

He gets down onto his forearms, caging her frame underneath him protectively. Shivers slithering up his spine at the feeling of his belly pressing heavily on her stomach. Pushing more of himself inside little by little, groaning out loudly as her walls clench around him and her pornagraphic moans fill his ears.

Keeping his stare fixed onto Y/n’s pretty angelic face and a long breath squeezes out of his throat when he finally fits the rest of his cock in.

Suddenly something clicks.

“Elvis…I…”

“Y-You’re my soulmate.”

They stare into each other’s eyes, flicking from one to the other.

She cups Elvis’ cheeks gently, panting quietly as she thinks and admires his handsome face.

Ever since they were little, they didn’t think those fairy tales were real talking about how they would meet their soulmate one day and right at this moment, they have been proved wrong. So wrong.

“...H-hold on tight.”

Elvis starts to thrust into her slowly. Picking up pace as time goes by and every single second it feels like home, feels like they’re meant for each other.

They’ve found their true love, their love at first sight, their ride and die, their partner in crime, their goddamn soulmate and they have the strongest urge to say those three words that every couple says but something is telling them to keep going before they say it.

They grab onto one another, wanting to feel the closest they could possibly be and take in the sensations, the magic, the love, the truth as they fly up into the clouds. Sucking in an unknown magical essense that falls into the atmosphere and Elvis works the both of them closer and closer and closer and closer to heaven.

Crying out in unison. “I love you.”

[jellyfitzjelly]

That cloak drabble you wrote..... Incredible 🥺 but I can't stop thinking about Tav going back to camp the next morning, hair disheveled, strands of hay stuck to her, and she's carrying the cloak she strangely woke up with.

Her companions voice their concerns for her absence the previous night then upon closer inspection (and a quick whiff)... it all makes sense 😂

"Ah, did a bit of rolling in the hay I see. Don't know why you'd pick /him/ of all the grove inhabitants but, we all have a type, I suppose." (- cinnasalmon)

LMAOOOO ok i truly love this 😂 [READ ON AO3]

You wake up feeling groggy, with hay sticking in uncomfortable places. You realize there's a cloak wrapped around you. The scent is familiar, but you can't replace it. It is an expensive but worn cloak, heavy and comfortable. It was clearly made for a soldier or a paladin, judging by the Helm patterns at the hem. You like it, but you're confused as to how it got on you.

You rub your eyes and decide to go back to camp. Your companions flock you like a murder of crows on a mice the second you set foot in the camp.

"By Mynstra! Where were you?!" Gale exclaimed.

"And here we were ready to have a funeral for you," Astarion quips with amusement.

"I'm sorry to have worried you. I just wanted to take a nap and...uh, I think it ended up being a night of sleep."

Shadowheart snorts while Lae'zel disapproves, of course.

"Nice cloak, soldier!" Karlach tells you, clasping you on the shoulder...before she sniffs you.

"What are you–"

The tiefling burts out in laughter, to everyone's confusion.

"Guess you had a good night of sleep, uh?" she winks.

You frown, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Tav! The cloak smells right like him!"

"Who? You know whose cloak it is?"

Karlach sighs dramatically, but it's obvious she's enjoying herself.

"Who else but the hot Hellrider?"

"Zevlor?!" you exclaim, shocked.

Wait... This is Zevlor's cloak? Then, that means that he wrapped you in it... You redden as you imagine the scene, as your mind fixates on the touch of his hot hands on you.

"Didn't know you were into older guys!" Karlach teases you.

"I'm not!" you protest impulsively, but no one believes it.

"So, how was it?" Astarion asks. "I've never had a tiefling, you must tell me everything!"

"We didn't do anything, you perverts!"

You march off to your tent, embarrassed, as your companions laugh. It's only when you sit down that you realize that you'll have to give back the cloak. You flush again at the idea of facing Zevlor. He's kind and...well, handsome. There is no denying that. He's a good man, and you feel enraged at the injustice he and his people have faced because of the actions of a selfish man.

Truth be told, you admire him.

Your heart race as you remember his might when you helped him face the goblins at the gate. You bite your lip and shake your head. You need to get on with your day, the morning is becoming noon. You wash yourself and change clothes before you grab the cloak you left in your tent. You remember Karlach's words earlier and you get curious. You bring the cloak to your nose and breathe in. It smells of faint spices, musk, a hint of sweat and of warmth. You didn't know warmth had a smell, but apparently it does, because there is no other way to describe it.

Yeah, it does remind you of Zevlor.

You flush as you realize what you're doing. You go back to the grove with the cloak neatly folded in your arms, heart racing. You tell yourself you're just giving it back and thanking him, no need to be nervous. You enter the cave and find Zevlor poring over his map. You look around but Tilses is nowhere to be found. It might be for the best.

"Ah, Tav!" he smiles as he lifts his gaze from the map. "Hope you slept well."

You can't help but blush. You shift, nervous with bufferfly in your stomach.

"I did, thanks to you. Thank you for the cloak, I'm sorry I am only giving it back now."

The tiefling approaches you with a fond smile, taking the cloak from you with gentle hands.

"Thank you," he tells you warmly.

"Don't mention it," you stammers.

"You should keep it," Zevlor pensively. "It may be more useful to you than to me."

"Oh no!" you vehemently protest. "I won't accept it! You need it, sir!"

"Just Zevlor, Tav," he chides you with obvious fondness. "I am no Commander. Not anymore."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your heart breaking at the hint of pain in Zevlor's voice.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he reassures you gently. "This isn't your fault."

You shiver as you catch a whiff of the spices of his cologne. Time seems to slow as you look at him. Your gaze drops to his lips and your breath catches in your throat...

"I'm sorry, I couldn't get any meat– Oh! Am I interrupting?" you hear Tilses behind you.

You step back, embrassed by your thoughts and flushing. Before Zevlor can say anything, you stammer:

"Ah, since it's lunch time I'll leave you to it then!"

You turn on your heels and all but run away. You catch Tilses' confused gaze as you speed. The spend the rest of the day cursing yourself. That night, you dream of spices and warmth wrapping around you.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Angeeeeee

I'm suffering from terrible cramps at the moment and I just saw your requests are open especially for wlw

can I please have a Skade one where she helps reader with our monthly curse? smut pls I'm begging 🥺

🩶🩶🩶

Warnings: Time of the month mentions, fingering but not quite, tiddy succin'. Word count: ~1200

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

You groan softly upon waking. The muted sunlight seeping through the canvas of the tent above your head indicates that it’s morning and has been for some time. You clutch at your lower belly with a muffled grunt, silently cursing your body for not allowing you a single waking moment’s peace from the curse of your moon’s blood. It’s your second day of bleeding and though you have tried your best to hide your discomfort from Skade, not wanting to hinder your progress as the two of you travel together, it is becoming more difficult to do so. The dull ache has grown to an insistent nag that plagues your every movement.

You stretch out an arm, surprised when you feel an empty bed roll instead of the warm body you’d expected to be next to you. You sit up slightly, wincing as the heaviness of your lower abdomen protests painfully, and peer through the slither of a gap in the entrance to your shared shelter.

Skade, flaxen hair cascading down her back as she hunches over a small fire, stirs a pot that’s suspended by a tripod of branches.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You call out to her.

She turns to you, before wordlessly moving to fill two wooden cups with the steaming liquid she’s been stirring and ducks into the tent. She hands you one and sits cross legged in front of you.

You sniff at the beverage, wrinkling your nose in distaste at the unappetising earthy scent. “What is this?”

“Nettle tea,” She says simply. “It helps me when I have my moon’s blood.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as she tells you this. She knew. Of course she knew. It was impossible to hide anything from Skade, she was too perceptive.

“I suppose we should start moving again soon, I have wasted half of the morning sleeping.” You say, eager to change the subject.

“We are going to stay here another day,” She tells you. “You need to rest.”

Your eyes widen, guilt blooms heavily within your chest. “That is dangerous…”

“I am dangerous,” She smirks. “No harm will come to us.”

“You cannot do this for me.” You plead, eyes wide. “We must keep moving.”

Skade sighs, rolling her eyes. “Women are afflicted by this because men are too weak willed to endure it, but there is no shame in being in pain. I see your suffering. Accept my help, and drink your tea before it gets cold.”

You smile gratefully at her and lift the cup to your lips, taking a sip. You grimace, the taste is bitterly unpleasant against your tongue. “That is vile,” You cough. “I cannot drink this!”

Skade grins, snatching your tea from you and turns slightly to place both yours and her cups just outside the entrance of the tent. She fixes you with an intense stare when she turns back, her blue eyes bright even in the shade of the canvas roof above you.

“I have another idea,” She begins. “Something that will soothe you.”

“Will you use your power?” You ask curiously, nervousness and excitement prickling at your skin.

She huffs a soft laugh, shifting forward and pushing you back as she hovers over you. “Not the power you’re thinking of. But this remedy is just as ancient.”

You stare up at her, heart fluttering wildly in your chest as the long waves of her golden locks fan around your face like a shroud. Her face is so close to yours that your lips are almost brushing, but when you lean in, she pulls back with a wolfish smile, a silent denial of what you seek.

Her fingertips deftly push up the hem of the rough spun linen of the shirt you wear, dancing delicately across the exposed flesh of your midriff, causing your breath to hitch. She smooths the flat of her palm over your stomach, before bringing it to rest against your lower abdomen, applying gentle pressure.

The warm sensation of it is a relief against the cramps you’ve been suffering. You sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

“Better?” Skade asks, her breath tickling softling against your cheek.

“Yes.” You whisper quietly, almost afraid that if you speak too loudly the moment will end.

It is then that she allows her lips to meet yours, slow and unhurried. You kiss back, relaxing as every movement serves to ease the tension in your body. You can taste nettle tea, but it is far sweeter upon her lips than it is from the cup.

Skade breaks away, moving to mouth at your neck and collarbones. Her free hand makes quick work of plucking open your shirt buttons, pushing the fabric apart to reveal your breasts to her.

You gasp, arching your back as she latches onto a nipple, swirling her tongue around it. The added sensitivity caused by your blood serves to heighten the sensation, waves of arousal causing you to clench around nothing.

It is then that you feel her hand move from your abdomen, her fingers breaching the waistband of the trousers you wear. You freeze, eyes going wide.

“What are you doing?” You ask in hushed panic.

Skade releases your breast with a wet pop and stares up at you. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You surprise yourself with how quickly you answer, how certain you sound, how sure you feel.

“Good.” She purrs, eyes darkened by lust. “Then let me do this. It will feel good.”

She moves her attention to the opposite nipple, laving her tongue across it before suckling gently, as her hand continues its downward trajectory. You jolt slightly as you feel her push her fingers across your mound, cupping roughly before pressing down to spread you open. Her middle finger seeks out your bud, circling slowly, and you shiver, whimpering at the way it makes you tense and throb.

Your whimpers increase in cadence, until they are lewd moans as her circles become tighter, faster, more precise. The coil in your gut winds impossibly tight and she kisses you feverishly as she feels you tense up, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you fall apart, white hot waves of pleasure rippling through you, all the way to your toes.

Skade withdraws her hand once you still, laying on her back beside you, watching you intently as you gasp for breath.

“Better?” She asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

Once you are lucid enough to form a response, you notice that the ache inside you has disappeared almost entirely. You feel boneless in the wake of your peak. “Much.” You breathe.

“It’s a pity that the moon has not seen fit to align us, so that we may suffer this together.” She muses, rolling onto her side and stroking your hair.

“You would want to suffer with me?” You ask, your heart fluttering, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“For as long as the gods allow it.” She tells you, resting her head against your chest.

Read on AO3

More WLW fics

[lilquokka04]

Hiii I was the one who requested I missed you and I enjoyed reading it so much thank you, you are the best 🫶🏻🩷🩷 Can you please write about sub!hyun where his mommy is mad at him and after a while he tries to suck on her nipples for comfort but she does not let him so he cries because he thinks his mommy does not love him anymore 🥺 eventually she lets him because how can she stay mad at him 💕 Thank you 💖

Haii again ^^

Glad you liked it and hopefully you like this one as well. I'm such a sucker for oral fixation skz 😫

-warnings- mean y/n, mommy kink, crying jinnie 🥲, nipple play so mdni

-

💥Meanie💥

Hyunjin had been acting out all day. Talking back and not listening to you. Even when you tried to ask if something had upset him he merely crossed his arms and ignored you.

Fine, you decided. If he wanted to be a brat he could be a brat.

***

Hyunjin had come home frustrated from practice and really wanted to be with his mommy but she started asking him to do all these things and it annoyed him. He just wanted his mommy to take care of him after his horrible day but it looks like that wasn't going to happen. Or maybe it was.

You sat down on the sofa and turned on your favorite show, instantly exciting hyunjin. He was finally going to get the attention he wanted from you. You guys always cuddle when you watch tv, hands in his hair and fingers scraping across his scalp. He smiled just thinking about it.

Hyunjin waddled over to the sofa and cautiously sat down, making sure you weren't gonna yell at him before he partially laid on top of you.

You could tell your boyfriend was going to try to cuddle with you but you were still mad at him from earlier so you planned to ignore him.

Hyunjin frowned as you didn't show any recognition of his presence. After a few minutes of waiting he gave up and let out a huff.

Oh well, he figured. Even if you were going to ignore him he could still do his favorite thing in the world, play with your breasts. He let out a noise of excitement as he moved to be able to stick his head under your shirt. But before he could even pull up the hem of your shirt you stopped him and gave him a glare. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head, giving you his innocent little puppy eyes.

"Mommy?"

"What, you think you deserve a reward after the way you behaved today?" You bit out.

Your boyfriend flinched at your words and dropped his gaze, fiddling with his fingers.

"But-"

"No." You interrupted. "Only good boys get rewarded." You returned your attention to the tv as the poor boy sat there in confusion and anger.

Why is mommy being so mean, he thought. I had a really bad day and I just wanted to be comforted.

His anger quickly faded into sadness as he sat in thought. His eyes welled up with tears and he let out a sniff as he angrily wiped at his eyes, upset that he was crying and upset about being rejected.

You instantly felt bad when you heard him sniffling, knowing he was crying but trying not to cave in to properly punish him for his behavior. You only lasted another 30 seconds before Hyunjin started full on sobbing and hyperventilating, making you crack.

"Jinnie..." Wrapping him up in your embrace he continued to cry, refusing to hug you back.

"Meanie!" He sobbed, lightly trying to push out of your grasp.

Oh shit

You refused to let him push you away, knowing he would just run to the bedroom and lock himself in. Slowly rocking him in your arms you tried to calm him down.

"Baby, I'm sorry. You were misbehaving earlier and I was trying to punish you but I should've been nicer to you." He only cried harder. "I'm sorry Jinnie. I won't do it again. Please stop crying."

You let out a sigh of defeat having no luck in stopping his tears, when you remembered the whole thing that started this mess.

It was worth a try

Reclining on the couch you lifted your shirt and guided the sobbing boy to your chest, hoping he would finally cease his tantrum. It took a minute for him to realize what you were doing but he finally latched onto your breasts and began suckling. Quieting his sobs, he suckled on your breast, letting out hiccups every now and then. His eyes were still filled with tears ready to spill over at any minute but he had calmed down a lot, relaxing you.

Carding your hands through his hair, you watched as his suckling turned lazy and calm, his eyes more droopy than before. He made eye contact with you as he licked at your breast, fragile expression still plastered to his face as he could break down at any minute.

You figured this was the best way to apologize to him right now and lied there as he suckled his fill, sadness and anger slowly disappearing.

[staroaming]

hiyaa! been reading your trigun fics recently and they do things to me 😭🩷

if you're up for it, what do you think about tristamp vash stepping up his game because you thought he was just joking around whenever he's hinting he likes you/flirts w you 🥺🥺

ahhhhghlsdfjk yes omg. i felt the need to write this in vash's pov, also one bed trope bc it's the best plus little time skips

Vash keeps his chin in his hand, lips turned down in a ridiculously deep frown. The small town he's found himself in is rather quiet, though, like any other town, it has a bar packed full of the desert-weary and sun-drained. He drums his metal finger on the tabletop, his brain wracked with thoughts and thoughts and even more damned thoughts of you. Which, in hindsight, is definitely not a bad thing. He watches as you push your shoulder against Wolfwood's, laughter spilling across your lips as you point at him and splash a drop of beer on his lap. You're in a particularly good mood and even though it's most definitely because the ceiling fans are blowing cool wind and your belly is full, Vash is delusional enough to think he could have also contributed to your heightened spirits. He's been overly playful and mindful for a long time now and he thought he was doing everything right. You'll notice, he'd think. You'll return his affections the same way, he'd hoped. Then again, as clueless as he can be sometimes, in this respect you far surpass him. It's endearing. It's frustrating. When your eyes slide to him, he perks up, wiggling his fingers at you in a small wave. You roll your eyes, albeit fondly, before returning to your conversation with Wolfwood. Vash isn't usually the jealous type but, well, the way your hand falls on his arm just does something to him. He stands up in a flash, feigning a stretch of his arms above his head, before he walks to you and wraps them around you. He leans his chin on your shoulder and when you turn your face toward him, he relishes the attention. "What's up with you?" You ask. "Hmm?" Vash keeps you locked in his arms, "Nothin'." "Liar. You've been pouting for the last hour." Vash scoffs a laugh but he doesn't deny it. Instead, he places his chin on your other shoulder and glances at Wolfwood. Luckily, he's turned to someone else. Happy to breathe you in, to take the momentary semblance of privacy, Vash rubs his cheek against yours. "You're like a little cat." You pat his arm. He smirks but finds the moment cut short, like always. Someone bursts into the saloon and he's quick to grab you up, push you aside, tug you close. All three of you run and if not for your hand gripping tight to his, he'd think it would be best to throw you over his shoulder.

While traveling, Vash trails after you loyally. His frustrations with himself, with you, come out in neediness that is almost nauseating. He brushes his fingers on your arm, your hip, your lower back; wherever he can touch, hoping you'll feel even a spark of the electricity that he does. He scoops you up when you get tired and he kisses your forehead gently when you wake from sporadic naps. Yet, like always, you just pat his shoulder fondly or ruffle his hair before turning your attention back to the sand.

"You're pretty." He says around a fire one night, brushing a strand of your hair away from your mouth and the grease from the food you're eating.

You scowl, "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not!"

You toss the stick that held the meat into the flames, "You're always joking like that." You lay back in the sand and stretch your legs, the hem of your shirt lifting as you throw your arms above your head. "If you weren't my best friend, I'd smack you."

He frowns as you shut your eyes, wondering for the umpteenth time if he should do something more rash. Instead, like usual, he sits and watches; the stars, the dunes, you.

Always you.

The small inn smells like old smoke. Vash sniffs and rubs his nose while you lead him through a hallway, your eyes searching for the room number. This is nothing new. There's been plenty of times that you'd had to share a room with him. Only now, his stomach twists and flutters.

"One bed." You muse aloud, staring at it. "Want me to take the chair?"

Vash glances at it, "Why would you?"

He throws his bag down and sits in it in a huff, the sandy window pane letting in a wash of golden, murky evening light. You shake your head and smile, tossing the key on a short table beside the bed. Hands on your hips, you look around the room, though you've never been one to complain. You've both slept in worse conditions.

Before you can leave, whether that be to shower or find something to eat, Vash moves. He reaches for you without really thinking, though once you're seated in his lap, he knows that he's not gonna let you go. Not yet, at least.

You settle against his chest, familiarity easing your usual tense muscles. You place your hands atop his forearms where they wrap around your abdomen and you do it so normally, like a second-thought, like a habit. He subtly brushes his thumb against your ribcage and if the hitch in your voice is a fluke, or his damned imagination, he'll take it.

"This place could use some decoration." You ramble, leaning your head back against his shoulder. "Some new paint. A good scrubbing of the floor."

Vash hums in response, distracted. His gaze is caught on your hands on his arms, on the rise and fall of your chest, on the tilt of your lips as you say something about the ugly comforter on the bed. He feels you shift and he shifts with you, his legs spread just enough beneath you to keep you from falling over.

"You wanna go check out the saloon?" You ask.

"Not yet." He breathes, dipping his head closer to your own. "Let's just relax."

"How relaxing can this be?" You laugh a little and squirm, no doubt wanting to get up to keep him from discomfort.

He holds you tighter. Not enough to hurt, of course, but just enough to keep you still. He gulps at the weight of you, at the true proximity of you. Do you notice? Do you realize that he's trying so desperately, so whole-heartedly, to make you understand?

He'd brought you small trinkets from dingy shops, he's done his best to keep you warm in the dunes, he's kissed your cheek and he's hugged you more often than not. What else can he do, but this?

Even he has limits to this specific form of patience.

You turn your face to him and you study his face, "What're you thinking about? You're quiet."

He brings a hand up, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek. Your jaw.

Suddenly, as if there was some sort of igniting spark within your brain, your eyes go wide. He watches what he can only hope is realization spread across your features and he's fully prepared to let you go now, to let you walk away if that's what you want. He hopes that isn't what you want.

"If this is a joke-"

Vash turns you with ease until you're straddling his lap. You gawk at him and if he wasn't so determined to make you fully understand that he's never joked about this, about you, he'd laugh. Instead, he keeps a hand on your hip and another on your face, fingers spread against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing your jaw.

"Not joking." He says.

You don't say anything as he gently nudges you, drawing your face closer and closer until finally, you accept what he's been trying to give you for weeks now.

You moan against his mouth and he revels in the sound. Your lips are softer than his, your breath warm as you open your mouth, your body jolting forward as he stands. You wrap your legs around his waist until the short trip to the bed is over, yet you simply wrap them more securely when he settles atop you.

You mumble something and he pulls away, breathless.

"-whole time?"

Vash tilts his head a tad, "What?"

You release a quick breath and place both of your palms against his cheeks, as if trying to keep his attention. "Were you trying to hint that you liked me this whole time?"

He grins, "So you did notice?"

You stare up at him, expression dropping, before tugging him back to you. He lets out a soft sound of surprise when you push your tongue back into his mouth. As you soften beneath him and his hands begin to travel, he thinks that maybe he should have been this forward a long, long time ago.

[strawberryspotsstuff]

*SNIFFS U AS A GREETING* CAN U WRITE ANOTHER BLIND CREATURE READER X HENRY BUT ITS CREATURE READER LEARNING ECHO LOCATION AND HENRY IS CONFUSED WHY READER KEEPS MAKING LITTLE CLICKING/CHATTERING NOISES AND CREATURE READER JUST PATHETICALLY LOOKS DOWN AT HIM AND TELLS HIM BECAUSE THEY DONT WANNA GET LOST ANYMORE 🥺

-yippee anon

HELLO YIPEEE.

yayy!! another blind creaturee :]]]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

DSAF Henry x Blind! Creature! Reader

Henry watched with amusement as you stumbled around his office, making low clicking and clacking sound with your teeth, and slowly but surely avoiding edges of desks and stumbling of chairs.

"whatcha doing?" he asked, leaning himself on the doorway, crossing his arms.

You fiddled with the hem of your sweater, sweating "well.. umm.. uh, learning echo location.. so then.. I can't loose you.." you mumbled softly.

Henry's brows rose, raising his hand to his mouth in surprise.

"Daw well that's the cutest thing I have ever heard"

You flushed softly, clicking your teeth softly as you made your way to the man standing at the doorway, Henry leaning forward and intertwining hands with you.

"well I'm really proud of you, you're really getting a hang of it" Henry hummed softly, you giggled.

"you.. think so?" you asked meekly.

"Oh, I know so." Henry grinned.

You giggled, gently squeezing his hand.

"Let's try use this echo location out on the hallways" He grinned, pulling your out of his office and into of my the many hallways which lead to staff only areas.

Henry lead you around the hallways and otherstaff only rooms as you tried out your echo location, stumbling in only afew items, but slowly but surely you could make your way around the room without falling over! (But still touching the wall to guide you)

[tomdutch]

okay for cute and fluffy concepts what about college!peter taking care of drunk reader and putting her to bed 🥺🥺

i love that omg 🥺

send fluff concepts for peter & tom!!

“can i wear your suit, pretty please?”

“y/n, for the tenth time tonight, no.” peter huffs, hands clenching tighter around your thighs. huh. you don’t remember asking nine other times. “mr stark would kill me if i need to get another new suit this early in the year.”

pouting, you let your head hang on his broad shoulder. around ten minutes ago, while you were in the middle of throwing back one of many shots, your boyfriend had showed up, a heavy frown evident on his thin lips. gwen, your best friend, had screamed at the sight of peter and begun telling everyone around her the story of your and peter’s relationship. she had barely gotten halfway through before peter, face as red as your dress, grabbed you, and you ended up heaved on his back, too drunk to make the walk home without help.

“are you mad at me?” you sniff, tear-filled eyes staring at his side profile.

“i’m not exactly overjoyed you told gwen i cried during our first time and she recounted that in detail to a whole frat party,” peter grumbles, walking steadily down the pavement and towards your dorm with your weight draped over him as though you’re a feather. “but i’m not mad at you, baby.”

breathing a long sigh of relief, you smush your lips to his cheek in a messy kiss, “i love you so much, petey,” you whine, tears rolling down your face, “like so much. i’d—i’d love you if you were as short as that space squirrel, or green like dr banner, or—or if you turned into a spider on the full moon, or—”

you lose your train of thought as peter arrives in front of your dorm and you suddenly remember the brownies you bought earlier. as soon as he puts you down, you cling to his arm, your heeled ankles wiggling unsteadily on the floor.

peter twirls his arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, laughing at the way you went from describing all the ways you’d still love him to babbling about craving sweets. with a swipe of your card, the both of you are safe in your dorm, and you fall onto the bed, giggling as you bounce.

“pete,” you sing-song, making grabby hands at him, and he obliges, sitting beside you, “i... i want brownies.”

“we’ll get your brownies, angel,” he reassures you, “just as soon as you help me get you in pyjamas, okay?”

his hands slide along your thigh and under the skirt of your dress, making a devilish grin spread across your face, and you push him onto his back. giggling, you throw a leg over him, peter looking up at you with a wide, shocked expression as you lean over to try and kiss him.

“babe,” he squeaks, pulling away from you, “what are you—wait—”

“petey,” you laugh, laying a drawn-out smooch on his cheek, “i’m—let me kiss you.”

he sits up, arms circling around your waist and drawing you close to his chest. “sweetheart, you’re really drunk. let me take care of you.”

“you’re gonna... take care of me...” you burst into giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively. “i wanna take care of you too, baby.”

sighing, he stands up, still holding you in his arms as he walks to the bathroom. you busy yourself with planting open-mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw, fully amused with the rose shading his skin. peter sets you down next to the sink, jumping up when you instantly start swinging your legs in the air and almost kick him right between his own, completely unaware of your actions.

slowly, he brings the hem of your dress up, and you let him slip it over your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him into a kiss. he doesn’t let it evolve into more than a short peck, but drops a sweet kiss on your cheek to appease you. tired out from the alcohol, you’ve calmed down, letting him dress you in a loose shirt you stole from his wardrobe ages ago.

one hand holding yours, peter uses the other to take your makeup off, peppering kisses on your nose in between a few swipes of the cotton along your skin, and you clutch his sweater with your free hand. when your face is clean and your teeth are brushed, peter scoops you once more, smiling gently as you bury your visage in his neck, mumbling half-asleep nothings against him.

you melt into your mattress as soon as he places you on it, but your boyfriend takes his time finding a water bottle, advil and the box of brownies you’d been raving about earlier. whining at the empty space beside you, you kick your legs out under the blankets like a petulant child, but peter seems to have endless patience and even more endless adoration for you. he simply grins at your antics, reaching back to take his shirt off before he slides beside you.

like a moth to a flame, you’re on him in seconds, cheek squished against his bare chest. he cuddles you into his side, chin on top of your head, and you both sigh out at the same time.

“petey?” you mumble, eyes closed.

he hums in response, running his hand up and down your back lightly. “yes, sweetheart?”

“i also want cookies.”