#team washclothes

[alwaysbewoke]

[sh-nin]

Source: https://www.byrdie.com/the-best-way-to-wash-your-body-8653484

wait i’m experiencing white people culture shock on tiktok again

please rb i can’t believe this is real

[meangirls-imagines]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl('s abs)

requested by @jjsmaybank20: "Hey! Can I request a Regina x reader fic where reader is on the soccer team and has serious muscles, including and, and Regina is like really attracted to that? And they end up having sex and Regina riders the readers abs?"

WARNINGS: 18+ only pls. ab riding. regina being a bottom. reader being kinda cocky.

"oh fuck, that feels so good."

pleasure shot through her body at each roll of her hips. blonde hair stuck to sweaty skin as tattooed hands guided gentle curves up and down the defined ridges of a taut abdomen. 

regina george never saw herself ending up in this position. she was the apex predator, she was the queen. yet here she was, half-naked and riding the "badass" of north shore's abs like there was no tomorrow. 

"god gina, you're so fucking pretty like this. keep going baby, use me." the blonde whimpered at the sound of y/n's voice, deep and sultry. god, what was this girl doing to her? y/n's tattooed hand moved from her hip, reaching back and grabbing a handful of regina's ass, squeezing.

regina threw her head back, moaning loudly. she began to grind faster, chasing her high. y/n smirked and allowed her to speed up for a few seconds, before grabbing her hips and slowing her down. regina whined, the high she was chasing slowly fading away. 

"not yet baby. just a little longer." regina let out a frustrated groan as she began her movements again. she hated when y/n teased her. the blonde whimpered as her clit throbbed. she needed a release, and she needed it soon. y/n smirked at how desperate the blonde on top of her looked. 

she knew regina needed to let go of the control she had. yes, she was the queen bee, but everyone needed to relinquish control sometimes. when her and regina started dating, it was hard for the blonde to relinquish her dominance. 

but y/n helped her learn that she didn't need to be the queen bee behind closed doors. and everyone at north shore could see and feel a difference when regina walked through the halls now. 

sweat began to drip down regina's forehead as she sped up her movements once again. she could feel her orgasm slowly building again as y/n began to kiss her neck. regina threw her head back, giving more access to the skin as y/n sucked marks into her neck. "my beautiful girl, you look so perfect right now. i bet you're just aching to cum aren't you? beg me for it baby."

regina began to ramble. "please y/n, i need to cum. it's been hours. i need it so badly baby. i'll do anything for you to make me cum." y/n smirked at how blissed out regina looked and sounded. she felt cocky that she was the only one who could make regina feel as good as she did right now.

feeling as if regina earned it, y/n leaned up and whispered in regina's ear.

"cum."

regina saw white. her ears were ringing with how hard she came. her legs shook and she let out a scream (y/n thanked everyone above that regina's mom was gone). regina had never cum so hard in her life. her limp body melted into y/n's embrace as the girl held her tight and whispered sweet nothings in the blonde's ear. 

y/n had rolled over, laying regina down on her massive bed, getting up and grabbing a washcloth from her bathroom. returning to the bed, she continued whispering praise to the blonde as she gently cleaned her delicate area with the cloth, shushing whimpers from the girl. 

feeling satisfied with her work, she grabbed some of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt for regina to wear, stripping down to her boxers and sports bra, before sliding under the covers next to the blonde. 

instantly, regina nuzzled herself into y/n's side, burying her face in her neck. y/n smiled and kissed the blonde's forehead. "i love you gina. so fucking much." regina smiled against y/n's neck, mumbling sweet "i love you too" before slipping off into dreamland.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#382

“Oh, sorry to startle you there.  You must be Robby Anderson.  Coach Thomas said that I could use the Away Team locker room for the privacy in showering and cleaning up.  He also said that you might be lurking in here.  No, no.  You don’t have to leave or even cover up.  I have been in many locker rooms and around naked young men all my life.  You have nothing I haven’t seen before.  In fact, I’m about to take a shower.  Join me….

“I’m Doug Mason.  I’m a scouting for local high school football talent.  I’ve been watching a number of your school’s players in the heat.  I am really in need of this shower. 

“Damn these socks have my stinky foot sweat.  Hoo-wee!  They are nasty.  Wanna take a sniff?...  Sure you do.  Take them….  I said ‘Take them!’  Hold them up to your nose and inhale deeply….  You like that smell hunh?...  Of course you do.  You are tenting in your shorts.

“Take them off.  Let me see your pecker….  Look it’s just us.  And I already know you are a sperm burper.  Coach Thomas told me….  What?  You didn’t know he knew?  Well…

“Shorts!  Off!… 

“See that wasn’t hard.  Well, the decision wasn’t hard, but your tiny pecker sure as hell is.  No, don’t hide it.  I like the look of it.  It’s small, but so are you.  You are what?  5’3” and 120 pounds?...  Yeah, I’m pretty good at sizing men up.  I was off by only a few pounds.  That pecker is what four inches?  For a small guy like you, it’s perfect. 

“Now me, I got a foot on you, and I’m more than double your weight.  And as you can see by my bulge I my jock, I’m more than double your dick size.  Wanna see it?...  Of course you do.  Kneel in front of me.  Reach up and pull my jock down….  Slowly.

“Smell that?  That’s all-natural man sweat.  No. No. Not yet.  You’ll taste it in a bit.  I know you like the smell of men sweating.  But above all, I know you love to sniff ass.  Here’s mine. 

“Hairy, just the way you like it.  Reach up and pull my meaty cheeks apart.  Take a deep whiff.  Smells nasty hunh?  That’s what we are going to start with—you cleaning my shithole.

“But let’s do it where you normally clean Erich sweaty shithole, in the shower area.  Go.

“I’m really surprised that you haven’t asked me how I know so much about you.  I mean you are known to clean out rank shitholes and then take a pile driving in your cunt.  For a plain looking 18-year old senior in high school, that’s pretty amazing.  And you kept it quiet, even better.

“Lay wherever you normally do.  Get that tongue out, cause my ass is coming down to sit on your face….  It’s been a while since I played in a shower.  Stay still….  Oh man.  You are wasting no time; that tongue is going in deep.

“Coach Thomas doesn’t know that you are a world class pig under that meek, math nerd, submissive exterior.  I don’t know what it is about guys into math, but they are pretty much twisted as fuck. 

“Coach only knows that you hook up with quarterback Erich Schneider before and after each game, as part of some superstition thing that Erich has.  I talked with him... Erich.  You know he’s the reason why I’m out here.  Nobody else on the team is of the caliber that he is.

“I took him to lunch and I point blank asked him if he had a fag on the side.  He asked me how I found out.  I told him Coach Thomas.  He was panicked.  I said he’s known for a year or so, and that he’s not to worry as nobody has said anything.  His job is to make each player the best he can be.  And to do that he needs to know what a player is sticking in his stomach and what a player is sticking his dick into at all times.

“Get up.  Let’s get the shower going.  I want you to take this washcloth and wash me down.  Spend some time washing my cock.  I know you want to play with it.  But while you are doing that listen up.

“I’m a lot like your Coach.  If I’m going to offer a scholarship to a player, I need to know everything going on in that player’s life.  Having a faggot on the side can be a problem, but that depends on the faggot.  Having an ass eater faggot to improve one’s game performance is understandable.  Erich is ready to ditch you, but I have an idea.

“After talking with Coach Thomas, he says that you got into the university, but didn’t get in on scholarship.  He also said that your family can’t afford it, and yet make too much money for financial aid.  I’m going to make you an offer.

“As I said, I want Erich to come play for us.  If I can offer you as an incentive, he won’t be able to turn us down.  If you want to be one of our students, I can arrange to help you out.  But your primary purpose is to provide Erich whatever he needs: eat his ass before a game, fuck you after a win, or beat the fuck out of you after a loss.  Your holes are his to use as he sees fit.  You would still need to get a job to help support yourself.  And if anything should happen to break it off with you, the assistance I am offering would dry up in an instant.

“That’s option one.  Option two has all the same service to Erich, but you live with me and possibly one other fag on my ranch.  I live on six acres outside the county line about ten minutes from the main campus.  You would be servicing me as well.  I know you can take a face sitting.  I have seats made for that for you to lay under.  And you will take a mean fuck every day. 

“I love tiny fag boys like you.  Just look at my cock right now.  I am hard just thinking about it.  If the shower wasn’t going you would see my leak.  I wasn’t planning on fucking you, but you are too much for me not to.  Lather me up.

“If you live with me, I can arrange to get your schooling paid for.  I just need to whore you out to one of the administrators, actually two of them.  They can set it up so that all your tuition and fees are paid for.  You will need to get good grades.  I will control your study times as well.  You will be whored out to whoever I choose.  And I know a lot of men.  Someone with your size, cute looks, and demeanor will be in demand.  The fact that you are barely legal alone will have the men asking me.  And they will pay.

“Now reach behind you and lube up that cunt.  I need to take it for a ride.  If it’s not to my liking—kinda hard to believe—the second option is off the table.  At the end, when I pull my deflating cock out of your gaping cunt, you will let me know which option you want. 

“I can’t take it anymore.  Get on the floor, face down.  Don’t reach for your pecker.  In fact let me see your hands at all time.  There is only one dick that matters here, and it sure as fuck ain’t yours.

“I can fuck for hours, but this needs to be quick.  I need to get back to Erich and Coach Thomas.  You ready for some pile driving?  If not, I don’t care. 

“…Am I crushing you?  Aww.  Well you need to adapt to the cock in your cunt.  And this hole is definitely a cunt.  Men will use it for their pleasure.  Men will use you for their convenience.  That makes you a faggot.  Everyone else will think of you as gay, but you know that you are different.  You know that you need to be controlled and used by real men.

“Your cries echo in this shower, and it sounds like music.  I’m getting close.  Your guts are going to be flooded.  I’m gonna knock you up, knock you up real good.  Here it comes!  Here it comes baby!  Here it fucking cums. Here it cuuuuuuummmms!  Fuck yeah!  Uh, Uh!

“Fuck.  Fag.  Your cunt is gold.  You may be a small fag, but your cunt is deep.  Mmmm.  I could lay here all day on top of you.  But I need to pull out, and you need to clean off my cock.

“Get on your knees.  No, you are not cleaning me up with soap.  Open your mouth and take me in.  Clean up services are required of all faggots I’m control over.  It’s a courtesy to the men who just gave their loads. 

“Don’t think about it.  Just do….  Atta boy.  Did you think any further about my offers?  You want to be Erich’s ass eater on campus?  Or you want to be one of my boys? 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.  I can see it in your eyes you want this life.  Good.  I’m going to transform you into one hell of a faggot cunt boy.

“You can tell your parents that you got a math scholarship, or whatever.  This starts next August.  That’s nine months away.  Until then, you will not pursue other men, at least ones I have not pre-approved of.  That does not apply to Erich, who you will never say no to. 

“You will report to Coach Thomas at the end of each school day.  You have gym as your last class.  That will make it easy.  He will provide any further instructions.  And he doesn’t require any pre-approval either.  Although I don’t think he will do anything; he doesn’t use current students.  He’ll watch out for you though.  I will guarantee, once you graduate in June, he will make a move on you.

“He and I have a long history together.  We both like the same type of fag boys, like you.  He and I belong to a group of men who like to share barely legal boys. 

“There’s a bunch of us meeting tomorrow night for hood night.  Everyone wears a hood, both faggots and men.  The only difference is the faggots are blindfolded.  I will take you there.  And you will be open to any man there.  They are not going to ask permission to use you.  But what will most likely happen is that you will be taken and used all night by one man to service his beercan dick.  That will be Coach Thomas.  Even with you hooded, he will still know it’s you, but if anything ever came out about it, he can plausibly deny that he didn’t know. 

“I can tell by how rock hard your pecker that you like the idea. 

“Erich doesn’t need to know anything about this network of men, including Coach Thomas.  I have yet to fully figure him out.  You will let me and Coach Thomas know if he does anything different.

“Your tongue bath on my dick feels so good.  But I need to get dressed.  Here take my socks.  They are yours.  When you are jacking off, I want you to inhale their rank smell.  I want you to think of me.  My jock is for another boy.  I’ll get you one of Coach Thomas’s jocks to enjoy as well.

“As of right now, you can jerk off as much as you want.  Use my socks or his jock to focus your thoughts and fantasies on us.  For the next nine months before you move in with me, you are going to spend a lot of time by yourself.  Jerking off and thinking of servicing us will keep you in the right head space.

“Oh look Erich is coming in….

“Erich!  I have some good news!  I have been authorized to offer you a full scholarship to come play with us, with your own private room in our dorm, and a stipend for meals.  That’s officially.  Unofficial, you were telling me that you are going to miss your ass eater here.  Well, he’s agreed to start the same time as you.  He’ll be staying with me.  I’ll make sure he will be available for you to use any time you need him throughout your time with us.  You could come by my place for privacy.  Or, if it’s close to game time, I have access to a private spot for you to use right by the field. 

“I told you that I could get him for you.  I’m quite known for getting the unspoken perks for my players.

“I know you have a ripe ass in need of some deep cleaning.  And you are right, the fag most definitely knows how to do it.  Thanks for letting me use him.  If I didn’t experience his talents, I would not have made him that offer.  I think this is a good situation for all.  I’ll be in touch later so we can celebrate over dinner.  Bring your family, your girlfriend, whoever you want.

“Fag, I will be in touch tomorrow about arranging that meeting.

“You two have fun.  I have to go talk to Coach Thomas about a coaching event he should attend tomorrow night.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Etraytin behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Red Tornado actually brings back a lot more nesting material options than Kon expected him to, and it’s a little overwhelming to look through the whole big heavy stack of it, but . . . but Red Tornado got a lot of stuff, and a lot of really good stuff he doesn’t know if he would’ve thought to get himself. A few more blankets and some of the spare clothes they keep around just in case somebody needs ‘em and some throw pillows and cushions and towels all in different sizes–like, full-size and hand towels and washcloths, even–and even some normal pillows and bedding stuff that Kon had literally no idea they even had, go figure, including some really soft blankets he’s never seen before and some silky-feeling pillowcases that are really, really, like . . . silky-feeling. 

Well–he guesses maybe Red Tornado would at least know what kinda stuff Kathy and Traya use when they nest, or maybe he just called them and asked for advice, so . . . it makes sense, he guesses, that Red Tornado got him so much good stuff. 

Kon goes, uh, maybe a little bit overkill obsessing over getting all the stuff he wants to use in the Super-Cycle and getting it all in there just right, probably because since someone else actually got it for him he just, like–really wants to use it all. Like . . . that’s all. He just, like–wants to use it all, or at least as much of it as he can. Though he keeps all the stuff that smells like the team and Red Tornado’s cape on top of everything else. Like–that’s better, is all. 

But he definitely wants to use as much of the stuff Red Tornado brought as he can fit, so . . . 

Red Tornado comes back again a little while later with a bunch of packaged energy bars and jerky and snacks and stuff, and even some candy, and a pack of water bottles. He doesn’t ask about his jacket or what it’s doing on the floor, thank fuck. 

Kon mostly stocks the water and snacks in the Super-Cycle’s front seat, though he keeps a couple of both tucked into the nest to, like . . . he doesn’t really know, actually, why he does that? 

. . . maybe Suzie’ll want some. Not that he thinks she even really needs to eat, but . . . 

He remakes the nest a couple times while the Super-Cycle purrs on and off, and finally manages to get all the nesting material in together and then feels, like–embarrassed, kinda, because he has definitely overstuffed this nest, but . . . 

But it does look, like . . . like, he kinda thinks it looks . . . 

It’s really comfortable, too. 

Kon vaguely remembers Red Tornado was here for . . . something, maybe, but making the nest was kinda–distracting, maybe? And he doesn’t know where he went now, but he never asked about the jacket, so that’s . . . that’s good. And the front seat’s stocked up all nice and neat with all the snacks and water and, like, also Bart’s hat and spurs and whatever else is too awkward or pointy to nest with, and the actual nest is really a nest now; he can’t even see any of the Super-Cycle’s cushions anymore, and the sides of the nest are all soft and padded on top, even, and it’s just . . . it’s definitely a nest, now. 

He feels a little dumb, but he feels really good about it. Like–he made it? And it looks pretty–like, pretty good? Like, not bad? And it’s really comfortable, and he can kinda just, like . . . sink into it, and . . . 

The Super-Cycle’s purring a little weird, he thinks distractedly before realizing–oh. That’s . . . 

Okay. The Super-Cycle’s not the only one purring right now, he guesses. 

Kon feels a weird, warm, giddy feeling and just buries himself in the nest–in his nest–and just kinda . . . just kinda lets himself feel it. It’s–nice. It’s really . . . it’s really, really nice. Like, it feels nice, and also his nest’s nice, and it’s nice that it’s his nest, and–

Purring feels pretty nice too, actually. Like . . . really nice, actually. And–and he’s allowed to.

He’s allowed to, and nobody can tell him he’s not.

[luvfae]

hello !! i don’t know if you take requests or not but i was wondering if you could write a fic similar to clean except the roles a reversed and the reader is the one who drags thanos to rehab instead, if not that’s completely okay, thank you !!

LOST TO THE HIGH

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: angst, addiction, mention of cheating, swearing

part 2

You barely recognized the man stumbling through the front door. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes clung to him, his shirt stained, his pupils blown wide. He wasn’t the Thanos you fell in love with.

He wasn’t kind anymore. The affection, the romance—it was all gone. No more spontaneous dates, no more flowers just because he thought of you. He hadn’t told you he loved you in over three months. And yet, you were still here.

He barely made it past the living room before he collapsed to his knees, vomiting all over the floor. You stood frozen for a second, heart pounding, stomach twisting. But then instinct took over. You rushed forward, grabbing his arm, trying to steady him.

“Su-bong,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Come on, baby, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He jerked away from your touch, swaying dangerously as he tried to get up on his own. “Get the fuck off me,” he slurred. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

His words stung, sharp and venomous, but you ignored them. You hooked your arms under his and half-carried, half-dragged him toward the bathroom. He fought you the entire way, cursing under his breath, throwing weak punches at the air. By the time you got him to the tub, you were exhausted.

You turned on the water, soaking a washcloth and wiping the sweat from his forehead. His head lolled back against the edge of the tub, his body limp, too high and too drunk to resist anymore.

“You look like shit,” you muttered, voice softer now.

“Feel like shit too,” he mumbled, eyes barely open. Then he chuckled, low and humorless. “Wonder why.”

You sighed, trying to be gentle as you cleaned him up. His skin was clammy, his face pale, and your heart ached at the sight of him like this. You had been in denial for too long, but tonight, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. He was too far gone.

Then, out of nowhere, he laughed. A cruel, hollow laugh that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You know,” he drawled, voice thick with intoxication. “I’m a fucking asshole. I don’t even know why you’re still here, cleaning me up after I just spent hours kissing on another bitch.”

Your hands froze.

A deep, sharp pain tore through your chest, but you didn’t react right away. You just stared at him, breath shallow, hands trembling.

You had known. Of course, you had known. The late nights, the lipstick stains that weren’t yours, the way he stopped touching you, stopped looking at you like you were the only thing in the world.

And still, it felt like your heart had just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

“Stop talking,” you choked out, your vision blurring with tears.

You scrubbed at his arms, focusing on the task, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. Because you loved him. You fucking loved him. And you knew this wasn’t really him. This was the version of him the drugs had created.

He fell silent.

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you. When you finally glanced up, he was frowning, his brows drawn together like he was confused by his own actions. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but then he just sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes.

You finished cleaning him in silence, wrapping a towel around his shoulders before leading him to bed. He passed out the second his head hit the pillow.

You stood there for a long time, just watching him.

You couldn’t keep doing this.

The next morning, you made the call.

You didn’t hesitate. You gave the rehab facility his name, your address, everything they needed. They assured you they would send a team to pick him up. You knew you wouldn’t be strong enough to force him into your car, and you knew he’d fight. But this was the only way.

When the men arrived, you stood at the door, heart pounding as they walked inside.

“Who the fuck are these people?” Thanos’ voice was groggy, but as soon as he saw them, his entire body tensed.

“They’re taking you to rehab, Su-bong,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His face twisted with anger. “Nah. Fuck that!” He shot up from the bed, trying to push past them, but they were faster. Stronger. The two men grabbed his arms, holding him in place as he thrashed.

“Let me fucking go!” he roared. “Y/N, tell them to let me fucking go!”

Tears streamed down your face, but you stayed firm. “I can’t, Thanos. I can’t watch you destroy yourself anymore.”

His eyes burned with rage, but beneath it, there was something else. Something that looked an awful lot like fear.

“You think this is gonna fix me?” he spat. “You think I’ll fucking forgive you for this?”

“I don’t care if you don’t,” you whispered. “I just need you to live.”

The words stunned him for a moment. But then his fury returned, stronger than before.

“I’ll never fucking forgive you, you stupid bitch!” he shouted, fighting against the men as they dragged him toward the door.

You flinched, the words cutting deeper than you’d ever admit.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The last thing you saw was his furious, desperate face as he was forced into the car.

And then he was gone.

You stood there in the doorway, your entire body trembling, watching the car disappear down the street.

And for the first time in over a year, you felt completely, utterly alone.

[wriothesleysgf]

𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒 ⊹ into moonlight — welt yang ₊ ◌ ۪ ࣪

ᝰ .ᐟ ꩜ . an insight into your unconventional realtionship with welt. — f ! reader , situationships , cunnilingus , fingering , squirting . ⟢ [ minors dni ! ]

some questioned why you chose to stay with the astral express crew rather than settling down and building a life somewhere in the cosmos. while you'd intended for this to be temporary, your relationship with a certain member of the team kept you in place.

but perhaps "relationship" per se wasn't the correct terminology. instead, the routine of sneaking into each other's rooms on the express just for a little bit of stress relief was closer to a situationship. neither of you wanted to ruin what you had, alas the question of "what are we?" remained unspoken.

after coming back from dealing with the events at the xianzhou luofu, welt was incredibly exhausted. however, he was craving being in your presence. that's why after the others had resigned to their beds for the night, he asked for you to sneak into his. it lead to you sat on the small desk in his room, any paperwork pushed to the floor. his hands lay flat on your inner thighs to hold them apart. his tongue was buried in the warm embrace of your cunt, mercilessly lapping at your juices.

the only breaks that you got were when he pulled back for a breath and reminded you to be quiet, convinced that your moans were loud enough to wake everybody else on the express. you couldn't help it, however. you'd lost track of how many times you'd already cum on welt's tongue. his lower face and your inner thighs were a mess of your slick and his saliva.

each movement of welt's tongue came with extreme precision, having done this dance enough times to know how to best toy with you. he reveled in your squirms and whimpers, continuing his assult on your sensitive cunt until he was satisfied.

as he pulled back to reposition his glasses, he noticed your fluttering hole begging for stimulation. welt couldn't bring himself to pull back from your puffy clit, so instead he slipped a couple of fingers into you as his lips wrapped around the bud once again. considering how large his hands are, it was an easy task for him to hook his fingers to best target your sweet spots. the man could feel how your thighs shook with additional vigor— he's be smirking proudly if his mouth wasn't preoccupied.

welt teased a little bit, swirling his hot tongue around your clit rather than offering direct contact as well as pumping his fingers at a painfully slow pace. once you tugged on his soft brown locks, he got the memo and sped up.

he sucked your sensitive bud, making you whine even louder. that progressed to purposeful licks targeted directly onto your clit, and thus he fell into a pattern of the both. he felt brave, adding an extra finger to your weeping hole. everything quickly became overwhelming, and welt used your body's reactions to gauge just how intense your overstimulation already was.

"one more f'me, princess," he's well and truly pussydrunk as he slurred his words. "y'r doing such a good job,"

welt's skillful lips return to your gooey core, and resume their assault. you babble broken phrases, loud moans escaping your throat. with his expert precision and unrelenting pace, you quickly come undone all over the man's face once again with a booming cry of his name. your fingers remain tangled in his hair, haphazardly bucking your hips so as to prolong your orgasm. he loses his mind when he watches you squirt, the liquid landing on his glasses.

by the time that you come down from your high, the pair of you are a mess. you're still on his desk, lower half covered in a mixture of fluids. welt cooes over you for a while. after such an intense session, he doesn't want to leave your side. this prompts him to lift and carry you to his en suite bathroom, and clean you up.

his touch is ever so gentle as he dabs a wet washcloth over your thighs and abused cunt. he places periodic kisses to your exposed skin, punctuating it with a gentle peck to your forehead after he's done. welt would be lying if he said that he didn't harbour feelings for you, yet he chose to keep them to himself out of fear that you would choose to leave the express crew if you didn't reciprocate them. he'd rather suffer in silence then to lose you.

although welt did want to keep your secret arrangement going on, he didn't think twice about putting one of his shirts on you and placing you down in his own bed. he didn't want you to wake up alone, and you were too exhausted to walk yourself back to your room. a selfish part of him was thankful for this, as the way that you cuddled up to him in your sleep-ridden state made his heart leap. if anybody was to knock on his door in the morning, then he'd come up with an excuse. for now, he could pretend that you were his, and he, yours.

[jamsterrr]

N. RIKI . . . MY BIGGEST HEADACHE ⭑.ᐟ

ni-ki. manager. headache proned. annoyance. teasing. “ just because you’re the assiastant doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do “. dickhead.

description. you grew up with your older brother heeseung playing basketball, so you knew much more than the next girl. but being the captain’s assistant isn’t easy when your your brothers annoying friend is apart of the team. when you get stuck riding with him on the way home. how will you do?

words : 2.8k

ni-ki x female!reader

contains. ‼️ ; sap , slight making out , tongue kissing ( ?? ) , cursing. ( let me know if i missed anything ! )

WARNING. : everything is fictional! and this is not how any of the enhypen members are at all! this is purely for fun and entertainment <3

part 1: my biggest headache | part 2: mbh: bet chapter

link to my masterlist . . . !

don’t take this serious. this is just a fanfic. tbh.. idk what this is.. i’m not even going to lie.. this kind of sucks.. and I feel like i should’ve named it something different but idk. it seemed to fit??! sorry if it’s so sappy, I was trying to at least get something out to you guys! 🥺 sorry it took me so long to put something out. i was sick for like the whole first week of august and i have a lot of stuff going on. but i have so many good drabbles! stay tuned <3 ( heeseung , jake , sunghoon drabbles soon ehehe )

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

You were fairly a good student. You didn't do much outside of school but volunteer stuff, and that's probably how you ended up here in the first place. At the gym at 6:00 on a Friday, watching the team you helped coach, score each time from the other team. You had been ripping and running all day. You were tired, hungry, dehydrated and felt like you smelt like the bottom of Shrek's ass.

Your eyes were bouncing all over the court, landing on your brother Lee Heeseung, captain of the basketball team. Since you could remember, he was always teaching you something about basketball. At a young age you came to love it. It was something you both held dear to your hearts and something you bonded over. You would've joined if your school had a girls basketball team, but no one was interested. Accompanying your brother on the courts were his closest and best friends, some you came to adore and know.

Others... not so much.

They were Jake Sim. His longest friend. Park Sunghoon. Typically, the quietest one. Park Jongseong. But people called him Jay. And Nishimura Riki. But he went by the name Ni-ki. He was by far the most annoying. Maybe it's because he was the closest to your age. Or maybe it was the way that he didn't listen to anything you said, no matter what it was. You could hand him a water bottle in the hot sun, and he wouldn't take it.

That happened. Literally last weekend.

Each time it was the same thing. He wouldn’t comply with you, he’s always knock you down during practice, though you weren’t scared to try and do it back, though his height advantage beat you sometimes.

You tried to keep your cool. For your sake.

Regardless, you always tried to be nice to him, over and over. Chance after chance. But your patience was running thin. During the remainder of the first half of the game, you continued to watch, seeing the score for your team go up. The crowd cheering with each dribble of the ball down the court, Jake shooting and scoring a point. Soon the buzzer buzzed, and the first half of the game was over. You finally took the chance to sit down, taking a small seat until Heeseung came over and you smiled, a wave of happiness coming over you as you seen your brother.

"Hey." He spoke to you out of breath, his heart lips showing his full smile as you handed him a cold washcloth. "Hey." You replied back, watching him. The male mumbled a small thank you and you waited for him to finish before continuing to speak. "You did amazing out there. It was like watching Lebron James" you joked, and he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder. "Lying is bad, you'll get lie bumps." he said, sticking out his tongue at you.

You grinned and replied back. "Must be why your taste buds are visible. The two of you laughed before spotting Jake, his hands resting above his head. "Hey, Y/n" he spoke, your name rolling off his tongue, followed by his Australian accent. "Mind rounding up a couple water bottles for us Seven?" he asked, and you nodded. Knowing Jungwon and Nicholas were going to be put in the next game. "Of course, I'll be right back." You said, excusing yourself from the conversation you were having before making your way to concessions.

The line was full, and you had approximately 18 minutes to make it back with water bottles for the seven. While standing in line you couldn't help but notice Ni-ki walking from out the double doors, you crossed your fingers hoping he wouldn't bother you. To your luck, he didn't.

That was a first.

Waiting what felt like hours but had only been a couple of seconds, you felt a slightly taller presence behind you, their hands wrapped around your body as you slightly tensed. "Guess who~?" they sung out and you laughed. It was your best friend, Sunoo. The two of you met in Middle school when he was in 8th grade, two grades higher than you back when you met. The two of you instantly clicked.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought you went on that date?" you asked, and he moved his hands, pouting his perfect lips. "They cancelled, but hey, it's their loss." he spoke, and you nodded, agreeing with him.

"What are you in the concession line for?" The male asked, the two of you in your own little world, ignoring the hustle of the outside world, anyone but you two. "I'm getting water for everyone on the team, though I'm annoyed none of them brought their own water bottles." You groaned, leaning your head back slightly. "Or maybe they did and just want to make your life harder." Sunoo grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes as it was finally your turn to place your order. "Yes, May I please have 8 water bottles?" you say as the small child that was helping rounded up your total. Sunoo leaned over and whispered to you. "I thought you only needed Seven?" "Well, I want one too" you frowned.

After a small call over from the child, another lady helped them calculate the total, the little kid speaking. "That will be $16 ma'am, cash or card?" he asked, "Cash" you responded, feeling around in your pocket, patting your jacket *and* pants pocket, but not being able to find it nowhere. You leaned over to Sunoo, whispering slightly. "Do you by chance have $17 dollars? I'll pay you back, I promise you" said as he shook his head. "No, I only have 5, the ticket lady took my money" he frowned.

You couldn't even deal with the mountain of embarrassment that came over your body at the moment, your cheeks flushing red. Hell, your whole face. Until you saw a hand reaching across, and a $20 bill being handed to the small boy that started to count the change. You and Sunoo both looked over to see Ni-ki, his hair slightly sticking to his face, his side profile causing you to stare with a slight smirk on his face. You were slightly mesmerized by the males looks. He definitely wasn't the worst looking person you'd ever seen. If only his attitude towards you wasn't such a dickhead thing. Who knows, maybe the two of you would actually be friends. Sunoo and you collected the water while Ni-ki collected his change.

--

The three of you stepped out of line. "Uh, thanks..." you said, holding the cold-water bottles, before feeling Ni-ki take one from your hands. "Well, you were looking a little embarrassed in the line..." he said, sucking in air through his teeth. "I wouldn't have wanted to be you" he laughed, turning around. "I'll take my $17 in any form of payment" he said before turning around and walking back through the black double doors. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watch Sunoo roll his eyes. "Gosh, I don't know how you have the strength to deal with him. He's so sarcastic."

"To be fair, so are you" you laughed, and Sunoo rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, but I'm better" he joked, and you shook your head. "Okay, let's get these to the boys" you said, leading Sunoo to the boys, making their way over to you, thanking you for the water and smiling. "About time." Heeseung joked as you rolled your eyes and sat down.

Oh, weren't you ready to go home.

--

Once the second quarter of the game started you were back in your mode, making sure to keep look for any fouls. The people that were playing the game now was Nicholas, Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon and Ni-ki. The quote-on-quote best players on the team.

Your eyes kept flickering towards Ni-ki. Trying hard to look away but the male was so captivating even though he boiled your blood with the things he said. As the crowd cheered, your eyes jumped to the score board. 42 ( — ) 24. Heeseung was on the 3-point line, dribbling the ball as he tossed the ball to Ni-ki who threw it back to Heeseung after distracting a couple of the opposing teammates that were near him at the time. Your brother shot the basketball, from the line. It goes in with a... *SWISH*.

The people on the crowd stood up, stomping and shouting, the cheerleaders performing and waiving their pompoms. The band performing. Total chaos in the school's gymnasium. A big smile on your face as you watched your brother get showered in the love he deserved.

You ran towards him, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a big hug. Feeling a sense of pride for your brother, for him to be doing something he truly enjoyed and getting credit for it along with the rest of the team. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness. All those long weekends of practice and after school practice came in handy. The score flashing 45 ( — ) 24.

--

“Hey, can you get a ride from Ni-ki? I’m not going straight home and everyone else already left. I already asked him, and he said yes.” Heeseung spoke as you frowned. “I really don’t want to; you know me and him don’t get alone. I can’t promise you I’ll be nice.” You crossed your arms as you put your book-bag strap over your shoulder, after uncrossing your arms.

“Oh, come on, try and be nice? I will be home later but I’m sure you’re ready to just go home. It’s only like a 15-minute drive, you will be okay.” Heeseung spoke, leaning and pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Don’t wait up for me.” He spoke. “WASNT. planning on it” you said slightly annoyed, but you couldn’t even be mad at him. You sighed, searching the halls, calling out the male's name gently, getting louder with each call.

“Ni-ki!” You shouted, groaning as you looked around, screaming and raising your hand to hit the male once he popped out from the corner, grabbing your hand as he laughed. His hand holding your wrist, gripping it tightly. “God-! You scared the shit out of me!” You whine and gently took your wrist from his hand. The male let it go and laughed a little. “Yeah, sorry about that... not” he laughed, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying. Take me home.” The attitude evident in your voice as he rolled his eyes at it, standing there for a second, his gaze burning a whole into you.

You took a deep breath before looking at the male and hummed. “Please...” you said, biting your tongue. You didn’t want to stall anymore, you just wanted to go home and that was it. Needing a hot shower, something to eat and relax yourself on your bed since it was the afternoon. “Yes, I can.” He finally spoke, him glancing at you before he started walking to the back of the school, the parking lot where every student with a car parked. It was quiet except for the two of your footsteps, the sound of the door opening as he held it out for you, a soft “thank you” escapes your lips as the two of you made it quietly to the male's car.

Not knowing whether it would be rude of not to sit in the back seat, you got into the passenger side of the male's car, placing your book bag on the floorboard in-front of you, buckling up your seatbelt.

Ni-ki did the same and started the car, turning on the radio as he drove off. The first bit of the car ride was a little awkward. You didn’t move much, causing you to get a slight stiff in your neck since you were looking out your window. Something came over you that made you ask the question.

“Why are you always such an asshole to me?” You didn’t know why you had the urge to say it right now out of all times, I mean you could have just easily did it at school when you didn’t have to see him that much, but you asked him in his car. “An asshole to you?” He answered your question with a question. Leaning back in his seat as he turned his head to look at you, his eyes roaming your body.

“Yeah, an asshole to me.” You replied firmly. “I’m not an asshole to you.” He answered, causing you to scoff. “Ni-ki, don’t play stupid with me. You know what I’m talking about. Ever since I started being the assistant you have gave me nothing but trouble. I want to know why, what have I done to you?” You asked, now starting to wonder what truly could be behind the male's mind. Ni-ki started driving, the car ride being silent. Filled with the awkward silence and the soft tunes of the radio. The time flew by. To you it seemed like it’s been at least an hour. But the 15 minutes was coming to a stop.

“I don’t know, I just think you’re fun to mess with.” He spoke, but you weren’t buying it. “Can I ask you a question?” Ni-ki asked, pulling up in front of your house, parking in the driveway, in the spot Heeseung normally parked in, but since he wasn’t home. Ni-ki used it. “What’s that?” You ask, slightly curious at the question you were about it to be asked.

“Do you and Sunoo date?” He asked, not looking at you, his eyes staring straight forward as he bit his bottom lip gently, putting the car into park.

Nothing could have prepared you for that question. You widened your eyes slightly at it. “What- no- Sunoo is my best friend. Why would you even ask that? What business is it to you?” You asked, - shocked - your lips slightly agape. “Good.” Is all he said.

“Good??!” You repeated and he finally looked at you, his eyes flickering around your face, clearly noticing your slightly distraught but concerned look.

What happened to the Ni-ki I know? The one that makes me want to ring my brain out. Why was he acting like this?

The male licked his lips and gently placed his hand on your cheek, biting his bottom lip as you felt your heart began to race. “Wh-what are you doing?” You question before feeling his soft and plush lips against yours. Your eyes closing as you let yourself melt into the kiss. it was like something snapped inside of you. After all these times, the feelings you couldn’t deny rushed into your body, butterflies fluttering with each sound both of your lips made smacking together.

Your body was turned, facing his as you ran your hands through his hair, his hands placed on your hips, slightly rubbing the skin there. His tongue poked at your bottom lip as you opened your mouth, allowing the males tongue to explore the inside of your mouth.

The two of you pulled away the only thing connecting you two was a single strand of spit that was soon gone, heavy pants playing loudly over the man that was speaking on the radio. “What was that..?” You questioned, licking your lips as your eye fluttered to look at him.

A soft smirk appeared on his lips. “Me saying that I’ll pick you up tomorrow, that we should actually get to know each other better.” Ni-ki smiled and placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek.

“Can I see about that..?” You slightly blushed and he nodded. Taking his hand, you gently intertwined your fingers and placed a soft kiss on the back of his hand, getting out of the car and grabbing your backpack. “See you..” you said before he waved and returned it with a smile. “See you.” Once you were clear out of the way of the car, Ni-ki pulled off and made his way out of the neighborhood, you stood still for a second, sighing as you watched his car disappear. You touched your lips which were now a little swollen and a bit tingling from the kiss that still lingered on your mind.

Gosh, what did you do.

After you finally showered, feeling the freshest that you could, you sat down in your bed, hearing a bunch of iPhone dings coming from your notifications. It was a group chat filled with the basketball team, excluding your brother. A new one.

Y/N kisses Ni-ki. [ the bet. ]

Ni-ki: [ *sent 2 attatchments, picture & video* ]

Jake: I knew it was going to happen.

Nicho: Ha! Called it. Pay up.

Jungwon: SOOOO not fair. I thought it’d be at least 2 months.

Sunghoon: damn, I owe Sunoo $70

Jay: 💀

You widen your eyes. Was that what that was? Were you just a bet. To see how long it would be until you kissed someone apart of the basketball team. Your best friend even participating in it. You felt disgusting. Your head pounding after you left the group chat, tears welding into your eyes. Your head pounding.

“Fucking Nishimura. My biggest headache.”

[bringmeanangel]

pairing: Aaron Hotchner and Reader

Warning: none. Fluff

Synopsis: Aaron comes home from work and finds you sick

Aaron had finally finished all the paperwork. He wanted to surprise you. The team was supposed to be back Sunday, but Friday afternoon they walked into the BAU.

When he pulled into the driveway, he saw that it was only 4:30. Perfect he thought.

Walking into your shared house, he noticed how quiet it was. The kitchen looked a bit cluttered, nothing else though.

Normally you'd be greeting him at the door. Aaron made his way to the bedroom and opened the door. The Image in front of him broke his heart

You were laying under the covers, Kleenex everywhere, your humidifier going tea cups and water glasses on your nightstand. You were sick and hadn't told him.

With the glow from the hallway light, Aaron made his way into the room, you were sound asleep and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching up and feeling your forehead.

You were burning up. He lightly stroked your cheek and you started to stir.

"Aaron?" You mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Shh, sweetheart. It's me, I'm home early. Go back to sleep." He soothed.

You fell right back to sleep.

Once Aaron was sure you wouldn't wake up, he took the dirty cups, loaded the dishwasher, before taking a shower and getting in comfy clothes.

He winced when he heard you coughing and came back into the room with a wet washcloth.

"You are home." You sounded almost relieved with the little energy you mustered up.

"I am" he sat on the edge of the bed and started to wipe your face with the cloth.

"I thought I was hallucinating"

"Honey, why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He started to stroke your hair.

"Didn't want to worry you" you closed your eyes again and heard the beep of the thermometer and you groaned.

"Come on." Your incredibly sweet boyfriend encouraged.

"You just got home. You shouldn't have to-"

You were cut off by the thermometer and you gave him your best annoyed look.

"I'm taking care of you because I love you and I don't like seeing my girl sick. I don't have to, but I want to."

Aaron took the thermometer from you and sighed.

"101" he said standing up.

"I feel gross."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Do you feel dizzy at all?"

"No."

"Why don't you quickly rinse off in the shower and I'll make you soup."

"Can I wear your George Washington University sweatshirt.?"

"Of course, love." He smiled softly.

When you were out of the shower and in your warm clothes, you made your way to the kitchen and Aaron was finishing warming up the soup.

"Feeling better?" He smiled softly.

"Nnnn" you groaned.

With the soup in front of your you stared down at it. You knew it was too hot. Aaron came around the island and stood behind you.

"Oh Goooood" you whined out when he placed his hands on your shoulders and started to massage.

"You're so tense."

"Mmmm" you groaned as he continued.

Five minutes later, Aaron stopped the massage and your soup was cool enough to eat.

"Thank you, Aaron" you said eating soup.

"Always sweetheart"

When you were done you reached your arms up and Aaron chuckled and lifted you up. You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes.

"Time to rest again, honey. Don't worry about anything."

[thatgrumpybxtch]

Heyyy

Can we get some new twilight Cullen headcannons? Maybe something comfort related? No specific topic, try to have fun with it!

Thank you love ❤

Ofc!! Yw <3

Carlisle is their anytime he has a slight suspicion that you may be hurt or sick in any way

Always looking at cuts/scrapes looking for any sign of infection

Esme kinda teams up with him if you're sick

Making soup, giving you Tylenol, cooling your head down with a washcloth

They are there for literally anything you may need, willing to do whatever to keep you safe and happy :)

Alice is always "lending" you clothes, shoes, and handbags

By that I mean she buys them and ofc its all name brand or designer clothing

Always keeps an eye on your future, just to be sure that you're safe and so she is always one step ahead

Checks in with Jasper for your mood

Jasper is always trying to be discreet when changing your mood lol

Shares stories of the civil war and other bits of history he witnessed

Rosalie is good with anything to do with hair or makeup

While she may not admit it out loud she loves to do your hair

Same things goes with your makeup

She also doesn't mind to just listen to you talk about life, it reminds her of what she missed out on and she's glad that you get to have experiences she didn't, although she is jealous the entire time she listens but don't take it personally

Emmett is a sports guy, so if you're into sport he'll love to rant and rave about them with you

and even if you don't know anything about sports you will eventually learn a thing or two against your will

Edward definitely teaches you to play piano and makes his own little songs for you all the time

Any song or artist you like he'll learn to play the instrumental version of your favorite songs

He also buys you a record player and records all the time, he just thinks music sounds better through a record

always reading your mind to the point where it annoys you so much

literally finishing your sentences to mess with you lol

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Who Wears Short Shorts?

Week #1 Prompt: Short Shorts | Word Count: 1469 | Rating: M | Pairing: Steddie | Characters: Eddie, Steve, Robin | CW: Mild Sexual Content | Tags: Post S4, Everybody Lives, Eddie POV, Platonic Stobin, Silliness, Fluff, Hair Removal, Getting Together, Blame it on Nair Fumes

Letting himself inside, Eddie looks around, and the house seems empty, even if Steve's car is in the driveway. He pauses, and he's pretty sure he hears the faint sound of music coming from upstairs.

"Hey! Steve?!" Eddie screams, and waits. Nothing.

So, he climbs the staircase, and that's when he hears that the music is coming from the bathroom. He can also hear Steve and Robin talking, arguing, laughing.

When he gets to the doorway, he's very confused.

Very, very confused.

"What exactly is going on here?" Eddie asks, looking back and forth between Steve and Robin, both standing in the bathroom, wearing short shorts, white lotion slathered all over their legs, "And what's that smell?"

Eddie pulls his shirt up over his nose. It smells like some of the chemicals that Wayne sometimes comes home smelling like after a shift at the plant.

It's caustic. Burning his eyes and nose.

Robin wiggles her leg in his direction, "Nair."

"Hold still!" Steve chides her, trying to get her to stop moving without messing up the application.

"Nair," Eddie repeats.

"Nair," Steve confirms.

"And…"

"Who wears short shorts? We wear short shorts! If you dare wear short shorts, Nair for short shorts!" Robin and Steve both sing-song together, loudly, over the already loud music, waving their arms, legs kicking up together into a kickline, the idea of not moving around, obviously long forgotten.

And, oh. Steve's limber. 

Flexible, and Eddie has thoughts he's not supposed to be having right now. 

He feels insane as he reaches over and turns the music down, maybe a first, in his whole lifetime. He's not supposed to be the normal one in any situation. This is wrong. So wrong.

Like, he gets it. He watches TV. He knows what Nair is. Sort of. In theory. He definitely knows the commercial jingle. But he doesn't understand why this is happening right now. He thought they were going swimming. Not, whatever this is.

"You're using Nair? Why?" Eddie asks, because it smells like something that shouldn't be used by humans without proper ventilation. Maybe gas masks. 

"Robin was curious, so I'm showing her how to do it," Steve says, like that's a normal thing for him to say.

"Okay, sure. Of course. New question, why do you know how to do it?" Eddie asks, as he mourns the loss of Steve's leg hair, that Steve is currently in the process of burning off with that eye-wateringly stinky cream. 

"Swim team," Steve says, like that's an explanation. It's not. It's really, really not.

"Swim team," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, for like, all that aerodynamic shit," Steve says, and Eddie can't help it. He smiles. 

The kitchen timer dings, loud and shrill, in the small room. 

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, leaning against the door jam, watching as Steve wipes the cream off of Robin's legs with a washcloth. Then forces her legs into the tub, one at a time, as he rinses them off. And Eddie can't tell if it worked or not, it's not like Robin's legs were all that hairy to begin with, at least not as far as he's ever noticed. 

But, Steve. Steve's legs are hairy, just like the rest of him, and Eddie's curious. Morbidly, so.

Robin is running her hand over her legs, and Eddie watches as Steve just stands there, grinning at her.

"See?!" Steve says, excited.

Then she coughs.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Robin declares, and Eddie wishes she'd bring a little in for the rest of them, honestly. This bathroom needs a window, desperately.

After she goes, Eddie looks back at Steve, "What about yours?"

"Takes a little longer, my hair is way more thick and coarse than hers," Steve says.

And, yeah it is.

Eddie doesn't want to admit, even to himself, what he thinks about all that body hair Steve has.  But he definitely has thoughts about it. Lots and lots of thoughts.

"I'll do you next," Steve teases.

"The hell you will. I like my leg hair right where it is, Harrington."

"Suit yourself then," Steve says dryly, and he finally starts wiping down his own legs. 

And yeah, he's losing hair up to his knee. Well, some of the hair. A little of it. Honestly, it seems very hit and miss as he wipes it away. Most of his leg hair just looks a little melted, singed, curled. 

Damaged, not removed.

"Is it not working?" Eddie asks, curious what the plan is here.

"Well, it's not perfect," Steve laughs, and it looks pretty bad, but Steve doesn't seem to care, as he adds onto his thought with a breezy, "Oh well."

"Are you just gonna leave it like that?" Eddie asks. Because, honestly. No.

Steve just shrugs, "I guess I could shave them."

And Eddie is pretty sure his brain short circuits, because the next thing that comes out of his mouth is totally against his will, "Can I shave them for you?"

Steve stops, looks at him, then laughs, shrugging his shoulders, "Sure. Okay."

Eddie isn't sure why he asked that, and he feels like his cheeks are on fire. Steve reaches into the medicine cabinet, producing a razor and a can of shaving cream, handing them both to Eddie. Then he plugs the tub, runs some water, and wets his legs with a washcloth, before sitting down on the closed toilet seat. 

Oh shit. 

Shit, shit, shit.

"You want me to…?" Eddie asks, trailing off, waving his hand holding the shaving cream towards Steve's legs.

"You're the one that asked," Steve says, teasing him.

Eddie swallows, kneeling in front of Steve, squeezing some of the shaving foam onto his palm, and then runs it up Steve's leg, applying it, stopping when he gets to the knee.

Steve pulls up on his shorts, his already very short shorts, making them even more indecent, "Might as well go on up."

Eddie's dick twitches at the idea, but he nods, getting some more shaving cream and rubbing it up onto Steve's thighs.

Then he holds the razor in a slightly shaky hand, "You sure you want me to do this?"

Steve shrugs, "It'll grow back."

Eddie nods. That's not exactly what he was asking, but he grips Steve's foot in his hand, and starts running the razor upwards, gently. Trying to be careful. One stripe in, he leans over and rinses the blade off in the tub, looking back up at Steve's face. 

And then keeps shaving, getting everything off his lower legs, before pausing, then just forges ahead. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He puts Steve's heel on his shoulder, giving him access to the underside of his thigh, and he's fully hard in his own shorts now, and he really hopes Steve won't notice. He's sure this isn't supposed to be that. He's not supposed to be getting off on this.

But he is. He really, really is.

He's such a goddamn pervert. 

Then he sees it. The hard line of Steve's cock, pressing against his shorts. His tight shorts.

Eddie drops the razor. It clatters to the tile, and he laughs nervously as he reaches to pick it up.

What is he doing? What are they doing right now? It's madness. It's the fumes. They've gone to their heads. They've lost critical brain function, the both of them. That must be it. It's the only explanation. 

Robin turns back up in the doorway, and they both turn and look at her. It must look crazy, Eddie between Steve's thighs, his leg hoisted up, covered in shaving cream.

"Oh, ew. No," she says, and disappears just as fast as she'd arrived, slamming the door behind her as she goes. 

Steve chuckles, and Eddie gets back to work. Shaving, rinsing. Over and over, until Steve's legs are both bare. 

It's weird, but Eddie can't help himself, and he runs his hand up Steve's calf, slow. Exploring. 

And Steve moans. 

Oh, goddamn. 

Eddie suddenly raises up on his knees, sending Steve backwards, off-balance, falling against the toilet tank. 

"Am I reading this wrong?" Eddie asks, chest heaving. Both of his hands clutching Steve's wet, smooth thighs.

Steve shakes his head, pupils blown wide, and Eddie runs his hand up, cupping Steve through his short shorts. Leaning forward, pressing against Steve, contorting Steve's body, as Eddie leans close enough to kiss him.

And he does, lips barely brushing, lightly, and it isn't lost on Eddie that he put his hand on Steve's dick before they even kissed. 

Steve leans forward, surging into him, kissing back. Hand coming up to press against the back of Eddie's head, pulling him closer. 

And Eddie's sure he'll die right here, for real this time.

If not from the lingering toxic fumes, definitely from Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: There are lots of different versions of the Nair "short shorts" commercials, but here's one from the 70s, if you're unfamiliar.

[veebeeboo109]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{Getting settled in. Rafayel is...Rafayel}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Eventual Smut. SFW (For now)

Chapter 2: The Artist

It felt weird to unpack. The zipper on your sad pink suitcase got stuck in multiple places, and you couldn’t help but feel like it was a sign not to open it. However, Zayne’s quiet assurance gave you the courage to open your bag and begin to pull out what you had managed to scrounge in your haste to leave. 

You used the dresser in the closet to put your clothes, grimacing at the lack of warm clothes you had grabbed. The only thing useful for winter was the coat that still hung on your back, which you took off and hung up on one of the many racks. 

The extent of your clothes barely filled two drawers and only a third of one of the racks. Looking at all the empty space in the closet, you wondered how on earth anyone could fill all of this space. 

The bathroom was pristine and decorated with white marble tiles that created the shapes of flowers. The vanity was long with plenty of empty counter space and empty drawers. A basket with extra washcloths sat at one end, coupled with a bottle of greenery and an unused candle. 

After putting your toiletries away you turned towards the bathtub. The wide oval soaking tub was calling your name. Whispering in low tones like a siren in the sea. God a bath would be divine right now. Soaking away the frost that had collected in your joints. But, with a resolute shake of your head, you pushed away the siren’s call. You are a housekeeper now. Not a guest. And you weren’t going to start off this journey by indulging in nonsense like a bubble bath. 

So, you took a quick shower instead. Turning the water as hot as you could stand it without causing actual harm. Once clean, you felt a little steadier but the whirlwind of today still felt a little surreal.

With your hair up in a towel you returned to the bedroom and sat down on the plush down comforter. It was heavenly soft and you resisted the urge to climb into the blankets and take a nap. You’d been sleeping too much already these past few months. Sleeping your life away and hiding from reality from beneath your covers. 

Instead, you turned to your phone. Looking up blog posts and articles about being a housekeeper. What was allowed and what wasn’t. What was the median pay? Would you wear a uniform? Oh geez, you imagined Zayne showing up this evening with a frilly black costume in one hand and you nearly snorted in disbelief. 

No, Zayne wouldn’t do that. The roommates however….

Well, that was the issue. Three other men lived here, and you knew nothing beyond that they were colleagues of Zayne’s in some way. Whoever had been on the phone at the restaurant sounded like a hot head, but had been able to be soothed by Zayne easy enough. 

Did they all work at the hospital? Maybe they were apart of some research team that Zayne was a part of?

For the first time in a long time, the desire to act was strong enough to actually get you to move. You finished drying your hair and made sure you looked half-way decent before you hesitantly exited the room. 

No time like the present right? You should introduce yourself soon rather than later. Hiding away in your room would only lead them to believe you didn’t want to be here, or that you couldn’t handle the job. Pah. If you could handle Wanderers, you could handle a couple of men. 

You scaled the steps and went back to the main living area, not sure whether you wanted to see someone there or not. When you found it still empty, you felt almost disappointed, but quickly pushed it aside. 

Better then to see what you were working with. You walked over to the mantle and found it a bit dusty but not too bad. The corners of the room had dust bunnies and there were smudges of fingerprints on areas of the window you could see. 

Not filthy, but not as pristine as you imagined Zayne liked it. 

You ventured to the kitchen, admiring the pretty granite countertops that appeared to have iridescent veins in its grain. The sink was nearly full of dishes and the gas stove still held a used skillet that had just been set aside by the last person to use it. Once checking to make sure it wasn’t hot, you moved it to the sink. 

The fridge was sparse but its contents were puzzling. Clear containers with fruit on the bottom shelf, but then a few mason jars of something that could be juice? Bright purple and orange that swirled around when you picked them up. 

The door held a myriad of drinks. A few bottles of stout beer, cans of boba tea, an almost empty pitcher of orange juice and some little plastic bottles of ginger shots. 

You closed the fridge and sighed. One of the blogs you read mentioned that some housekeepers were in charge of grocery shopping– maybe you should too. Zayne would eat nothing but macarons and hot chocolate if he could, and from what you could see there wasn’t much substance for the others. No vegetables. No meat. 

A quick look in the trash answered the question– filled to the brim and overflowing with take out bags and containers. 

“Can I help you?” A sharp voice hissed and you startled upright, quickly turning red at being caught spying in the trash. 

A tall man with amethyst colored hair stood at the edge of the kitchen, his arms crossed and his eyes glaring at you like they might actually cut. 

“Oh! Sorry! I-I’m the new housekeeper!” You said with your hands raised placatingly. “My name is Y/N, Zayne said he would message you about me?”

The tightness in the man’s shoulders eased a bit, but he didn’t uncross his arm. The sneer on his face turned from deadly to just plain vicious, a step down but not a victory. 

“That was fast.” He replied with a slight tilt to his head. He took a few steps forward and sized you up, his eyes shining from the bright light streaming in from the windows. An aurora of colors in his irises that made your jaw unwittingly drop. “Where’d he find you?”

“He–” You went to answer, but he was touching you and your voice squeaked away. Hiding like a mouse at the warmth in his fingers. He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger and lifted your face to look up at him.

This close you could see the faint streaks of color on his cheeks. The smudges of what could only be paint just below his eye and next to his mouth. With a glance you saw more evidence of paint on his shirt and arms. 

“I’m his friend.” You managed out, feeling like your tongue was suddenly heavy. “I offered to take the job when he told me he needed one.”

The man clicked his tongue and pulled away, “I see. So he’s that kind of pervert.”

The serrated edge to his posture eased and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You stuttered for a moment, taking a step back to put some breathable distance between you too. “I’m sorry? It’s not like that?”

“Oh yeah? Well, that’s boring.” He sighed and relaxed his arms, placing his paint stained hands on his hips. “Did he tell you the rules then?”

“Rules?” You parroted with confusion.

“Yeah, rules.” The man sighed, “The studio is mine. Clean it, but don’t touch anything.”

You scoffed before you could stop yourself, “How am I supposed to–”

“Stay out of my room, and don’t touch my stuff.” He interrupted you, holding up fingers as he listed off the ‘rules’. “If someone shows up looking for me, I don’t live here. And when you go shopping, don’t get the cheap fish. I’ll send you a picture so you don’t mess it up.”

From his pocket he pulled out his phone and tapped it a few times, “Put your number in.”

“Okay…” You mumbled as you reflexively took the phone seeing a new contact form already pulled up. You entered your name and your number before handing it back.

He glanced at it before putting it away, “Good.”

He turned to walk away but you quickly spoke up to stop him, “Wait, what’s your name?”

The man turned, his nebula eyes scrutinizing you like you’d asked him something completely unreasonable. “Rafayel, but you can call me master.”

He strutted away, humming softly as you stood in the kitchen– still as a statue. Master? What was wrong with that guy? You sighed and shook your head, letting it slide. You ran your hand down the side of your face and wondered if maybe you’d bitten off more than you could chew.

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

You spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the house. Compound was a better word for it though. There were four floors. The bottom was the garage you had entered in. The garage that housed the parked cars was also attached to a separate garage, this one a workshop of sorts. 

A classic red hot rod was lifted up on a hydraulic lift, and from where you peeked in from the doorway you could smell the gasoline, oil, and grease. Various shelves were filled with hand tools and power tools, and one workbench housed what looked like a toy that had been completely taken apart down to the screws. 

The next floor up was the cement floor. The windows were sparse here, and the atmosphere much less inviting than the upper floors. The doors you peeked into were dark and seemed like storage. Rows of tall racks with industrial looking crates stacked on them. 

One of the rooms was a bedroom, dimly lit with only a single narrow window on the other side. It was such a contrast to the whites and silver of the living space. This was all black trim and red velvet. 

You had enough time to wonder if this was some kind of sex dungeon before a sharp caw startled you into fleeing. You caught sight of a black crow sitting on a perch next to the bed before you quickly retreated, shutting the door with a sharp snap!

The rest of this floor was industrial and utilitarian. More storage. A utility room with a large water boiler and other mechanics for the house. The last room was filled with servers. Tall glass covered towers with blinking lights and sweltering heat. 

Okay, so the bottom floor was weird, but nothing too strange. Besides the sex dungeon. That was weird. You tried hard not to think too much about why a bird would be in a sex dungeon as you went to the next floor up. 

The next floor was the living area, and such a sharp contrast the cement walls and dark floors of the floor below. The windows revealed the still pelting snow and cast everything in an almost blinding light. It was pretty. It was modern. But beyond the masterpieces paintings on the wall there wasn’t anything to give away that people lived here. 

There were no photos on the wall. The bookshelves were filled with encyclopedia collections and classics. Nothing remarkable. Nothing personal. 

It made you almost sad. Zayne had said he had moved last year, and in all that time he hadn’t done anything to make this place his own? Neither did the roommates it seemed. Though you wondered if the paintings were the work of the grumpy roommate you had met earlier. 

Rafayel. The name sounded familiar, but didn’t strike anything concrete in your mind. 

You found the other two bedrooms on this floor, peering in and relieved to find them empty. One was clearly Zayne’s– though there wasn’t anything that marked it as his– you could tell by the smell. The soft scent of mint and mild menthol, undernotes of white pine and fresh rain. You choked a little at the realization you recognized him by smell alone, and quickly shut the door to his dark meticulously clean room. 

The other room was empty too, but it was different from Zayne’s in that it smelled like soft cotton and teakwood. It was subtle but the most striking thing among the plain white bedding, and simple furniture. This was the messiest you’d seen any of the rooms. Some books scattered atop the wardrobe and the side tables.

The last room on this floor was the gym. A long room that had one wall of windows and the other of mirrors. A classic gym that smelled too much like sweat and less clean than it should. A diverse set of equipment was set up, from a free weights, treadmill, stationary bike, pull up bar, and pretty much anything else a gym-goer could want. 

As you entered the third floor, the lasting impression you were getting was that this place was ridiculous. A compound. Not a house. Too big and too fancy to be cozy and welcoming. It made you miss your house. The normal sized living room and kitchen. Fighting over space at the counter and only a wall away from the people you loved most. 

Your chest aches again, and you feel tired. The idea of taking a nap was appealing again, but you managed to deny it because you weren’t done with your exploration. 

Your bedroom was closest to the stairwell and the other you could hear movement behind so you didn’t dare open it. Likely Rafayel’s room, if you had to guess. 

Further down the hall you found a small kitchen with a spiral staircase, which, when you followed it, led up onto a wide rooftop terrace. The snow kept you from exploring that place, something for another day. 

The last area was the dreaded studio, and you felt your stomach drop when you opened the door. Canvases in various states of being painted littered every surface, some leaning against rolling work tables and others sat against the windows. A large wall sized piece was partially covered with sheer linen, and a tall ladder sat in front of it. 

The floor was filthy. Splattered paint and crumpled up papers covering nearly every visible surface. Good god, no wonder the other housekeepers quit.

“What are you doing?” That voice was back, but whispering. 

You jumped again and nearly headbutted Rafayel who was leaning over you, peeking into the art studio alongside you. 

“Hey!” He shouted, “Watch it.”

“Don’t scare me like that!” You shout, wrinkling your nose at him.

“You looked like a thief, peeking in like that.” Rafayel teased, a smirk appearing on his stupidly pretty face, “You want to come in?”

“It looks like a disaster zone.” You say as Rafayel pushes the door open and nods for you to enter. 

“It's my creative zone.” He argues back, maneuvering over the various litter on the floor with practised ease. You didn’t dare enter past the few feet in front of the door. “The last maid kept moving my stuff and then I couldn’t find it. So, don’t do that.”

You scoff in bitter amusement, “How on earth am I supposed to clean this without moving anything?”

Rafayel hummed and shrugged, “Sorry cutie, seems like a you problem.”

You could only roll your eyes, “Yeah, it seems like it.”

“Hey, come here.” He beckons you over to a worktable, Reluctantly, you tip toe over the scattered discarded sketch pages and various little to stand next to him. He used a thin metal spatula to mix some paint on the glass surface, picking up dobs of other colors he had blobbed out along the edge. 

With a scrap, he picked up a large scoop of the paint he was mixing and held it up to you, “What do you think? Is this red, or yellow?”

Your brow creased in confusion as Rafayel offered you the painting spatula. Denying your knee-jerk reaction to sigh, you instead decided to indulge this bizarre individual. They said creatives were odd, and maybe that was it. Rafayel was certainly a character…

The paint he had mixed resembled the sky at sunset. A deep burnt orange that toed the line between orange and red. It could be called either, and so this felt like a test. There was almost a pearl to the paint, catching the light with tiny flickers of sparkle as his wrist shifted. Like flames, flickering and jumping like it was alive.

“Um…” You began, feeling like you were suddenly taking a pop quiz, “It could be either. I guess it depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” He replied smoothly, his voice taking on a warmth you hadn’t heard from him yet.

Gently you took the palette knife and lifted it high to the light. Then you shifted to hold it so a warm colored painting was behind it. A painting of red flowers in an endless rolling meadow, “Well, if I hold it here….it’s orange. For sure.”

Then you turned and meant to hold it up to the window, but found yourself facing Rafayel instead. You held up the glob of paint up towards his violet hair, a bit stunned to see the flecks of blue there. “But if I hold it here…it’s red.”

Rafayel’s eyes were something to behold. A color you’d never seen before– a mixture of the night sky and iridescent magenta. Playful but intriguing. His lashes were long and dark, shadowing the darker blue in the top of his iris. 

With a soft exhale, he smiled and took the palette knife from your hands. “That’s interesting. But not very helpful.”

You swallowed the spark of embarrassment, “Oh, sorry.”

“My manager wants me to come out with some series of paints to sell. I have to come up with colors for the set. I can’t really call this one ‘orange over here, and red over here’.” He chuckled softly and went back to mixing, placing the paint back onto the glass mixing table. 

“Why not something like burnt orange? Or just red-orange? They name crayons red-orange all the time.” You say with a small smile.

“Ugh, if only.” Rafayel whined with a sigh, “But no, ‘It needs to be more meaningful than that’. He says.” Rafayel lifted his voice into a higher tone to mock whoever had told him that. 

“Then name it something ridiculous,” You watch as he expertly continues to mix colors, his hands moving effortlessly to mix and spread the thick paint across the palette. “Name it like…yearning or something. Like they do with perfumes.”

“You think yearning is orange?” Rafayel scoffs. “No, yearning is definitely purple. Or…maybe mauve?”

“What’s orange then?” You cross your arms and scan the room, surprised by the variety of paintings here. There’s several that look like the ocean: from the serene horizon of the everpresent ocean, to a roiling, churning raging sea. 

“Orange is…” Rafayel hummed as he thought.

“Surprise?” You offer, “It’s always a bright color. It’s used to grab attention a lot.”

Rafayel shook his head and his eyes glanced over at you, “Do you paint?”

You’re surprised by the question and quickly shake your head, “Oh no, not at all. I just like colors.”

Rafayel paused in mixing and looked at you with a laugh, “You just like colors?”

You turn at the remark, the teasing in his eyes a bit too much for today, “Maybe.” You say defensively. “I’m going to go wait for Zayne to get back. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Aw, c’mon cutie. It’s alright. I like colors too.” You can hear the laugh in Rafayel’s voice. 

You maneuver through the mess back towards the hall and grimace as you remember you’ll have to figure out how to clean this disaster. 

As you enter the hallway, you take a deep breath. At the very least it seems like Rafayel likes you a little bit, so maybe this won’t be so bad?

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[notforpenance]

genuinely curious about every single one of your carcar wips, i love the way you write them!! but can we get a little peek at ‘only natural’ please 🙏🏻

two for only natural, so i put it all in one post (:

so only natural is prob a one-shot or maybe like a short little like three or four chapter piece... it's actually probably my least developed out of all of my wip

it's hybrid au carcar

oscar is a rabbit hybrid (of course) and carlos is a fox hybrid. oscar gets along with everyone on the grid except for carlos because he is fairly certain that carlos wants to eat him... and carlos does want to eat him just not exactly in the way that oscar thinks he wants to eat him

not like super deep hybrid au just like ears and tails / defining features and some mannerisms

theres been a few hybrid au carcar fics (and art) which have inspired it

heres a snippet:

Oscar’s body is not built for racing. 

His ears are too long, making them difficult and painful to fit underneath his helmet, and his tail is too stubby, making it uncomfortable to sit in the car at the angle required. 

Of course, Oscar does not complain about it; others have it far worse; it must be difficult for George to race with his antlers getting in the way. Oscar knows he had to get a specialized helmet, which must’ve caused a lot of hassle. 

By the time Oscar gets out of his car, Charles is already pulling off his helmet, his ears flipping up from where they were pressed against his head, and his hair is a mess. His tail is whipping back and forth behind him like a safety hazard. Oscar thinks that if he gets too close, its force would be enough to knock him off his feet. 

He doesn’t blame Charles, winning the Monaco Grand Prix for the first time as a Monegasque is undoubtedly cause for the amount of excitement he is exhibiting. 

Oscar removes his helmet as Charles hugs his team. He deposits it on the little second-place stand. Oscar runs a hand through his hair, stopping for a second to rub a circle or two at the bases of his irritated ears. 

He glances back at Charles again before looking at their cars. In first, Charles, in second, himself, and in third…

Oscar has never been the type to judge people based on their features. Times have changed a lot since the past when hybridization was so rare that it was nearly one in a million. Most of the obscure stigmas have faded into the past. Since it became legal for hybrids to join Formula One and the population shifted to the majority being hybrids, the number of non-hybrids on the grid lessened each year. To Oscar and most everyone else, everyone is just a person with extra ears and a tail or maybe another interesting feature, and those do not define them. 

Except for Carlos. 

Oscar’s nose twitches. He glances at Carlos, who has only just taken off his helmet, depositing it down unceremoniously. Carlos takes off the little headband he uses to keep his ears down. They pop up immediately, grateful to be free from the confines of his helmet, bright orange and black-tipped. One flicks back for a second, and Oscar swallows thickly. 

It is only natural.

Oscar moves, reaching out for his washcloth with shaky hands, bringing it up to wipe the sweat off of his face, gnawing uncomfortably on the inside of his mouth. He peers back at Carlos, whose fluffy tail swishes back and forth calmly. Carlos takes a large swig of his water, and Oscar watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows it. Then, he glances around for a few moments before making eye contact with Oscar. Carlos’s tail stops abruptly, stuttering in its movement and then continuing. 

Something harsh zaps through Oscar’s body: fight or flight. 

Oscar exhales shakily, glancing behind him, hoping Carlos is looking at someone else. He is not. Carlos is walking toward him. Oscar cannot tell if it is on purpose or if Carlos has not grasped this little issue that he keeps running into, but for whatever reason, Carlos is not at all deterred from interacting with Oscar. 

Carlos gets a little closer. Oscar turns sharply and walks toward his team instead, hoping to dodge the encounter. He glances back at Carlos, whose expression seems to downturn for a half second. But he has escaped, at least he thinks that he’s escaped, and then bumps into Charles, who wraps an arm around his shoulders and turns him around. Very suddenly Carlos is right in his face, and Oscar cannot help but stare at him wide-eyed and fearful. 

“Good job on your second place,” Charles coos at him. Oscar inhales. 

“Congrats, mate, it's about time you won this thing.” He hears the words come out of his mouth, but it must be some magic force forming them because Oscar cannot tear his eyes away from Carlos. Charles grins, and his tail hits against the back of Oscar’s legs. That thing should be considered a safety hazard at this point. Carlos is saying something, reaching out to clasp hands with Charles affectionately. Oscar cowers away from the motion, and while Charles is caught up in his victory, Carlos definitely seems to notice, his brow furrowing. 

Oscar purses his lips. 

“Good race,” Carlos says, and Oscar realizes that Charles has promptly disappeared, which means Carlos is talking to him. 

Good race? What is he supposed to say to that? 

Oscar settles for a curt nod, taking a cautious step backwards. Carlos watches as he widens the gap between them, his eyes narrowing for a split second. 

“I thought really I could pass you when-” Carlos starts. 

Oscar gestures in the direction of his team, cutting Carlos off. 

“My… uh- team-” He feels like an idiot for how incoherent that sounded. Carlos glances between Oscar and his team. It is then that Carlos’s face truly falls, his tail stops moving entirely, and one of his ears flicks back. Oscar rushes away before he can see anymore, his back to Carlos, as he hurries to the safety of his team. 

He doesn’t mean to make Carlos feel bad. It’s just that-

“Charles asked me to ask you why you keep breaking Carlos,” Max asks him when they go out later that night. Charles has managed to convince Oscar to join them at the Ferrari party, and Max just happens to be here too, for reasons Oscar tries very hard not to think about. Max’s tail is curled around his own leg, and his third drink is nearly finished. Lando flounders around next to him, unable to stay still.  

“Breaking Carlos?” Oscar questions. Max gives him a look. 

“Come on, mate, every time he gets done talking to you, he looks like a kicked dog,” Lando teases. It is so embarrassing that Oscar doesn’t want to say it out loud. 

“I’m scared of him,” Oscar admits. Lando lets out a laugh, and Oscar flushes softly, glancing away. Max’s eyebrows narrow in confusion as he intakes the phrase. One of his ears twitches, and he reaches up to scratch his head. 

“What?” Max questions. Oscar fumbles around a bit, unsure how to explain without outright saying it. 

“Because I’m… you know,” he gestures at himself. “And he’s…” Max raises an eyebrow. Oscar supposes it wasn’t the most descriptive pointer as to the exact problem. “You know,” he says again, he gestures up at his ears. Max squints, leaning forward, trying to make the connection. He tilts his head to the side. 

“You are not scared of me,” he points out, and Oscar knows he’s finally gotten it. Max is a cat hybrid, so the statement is valid. 

Oscar has spent a while trying to determine precisely why Carlos scares him since other natural predator hybrids don’t. He has no problem with Max or Charles, who in theory could be a predators to him. He has no issue with Logan’s eagle features or Fred’s raccoon ones. It’s just Carlos. 

The reality is that it’s all in how they look at him. Max always seems so indifferent when he looks at Oscar. Charles always looks at him with the fondness of a friend. And Carlos… well…

“He’s always looking at me like he wants to eat me,” Oscar claims. Max snorts, putting his hand over his mouth to cover up his laugh, and Lando cackles wholeheartedly, nearly falling out of the booth and onto the ground in his amusement. 

“Oh, mate,” he wheezes. “He wants to eat you all right, just-” his words are interrupted by his own laughter as he gestures around aimlessly. “Just not how you’re thinking.” 

(let me just say i don't want to hear one word about zootopia LOLOL i only thought about that after i wrote what i have so far and its like 95% of the reason that i haven't finished it...)

[writers-reach]

Haiii reach!!!! ;3 may i pls req Ren Amamiya with a S/O whos part of the Phantom Thieves, and in mementos, they end up getting their eye injured and the injury perpetuates outside the metaverse, making them blind in one eye, just,, Ren helping with the medical aftercare and comforting them on the aftermath, kinda self indulgent bc i am blind now lolz, but please please deny if it makes you uncomfy ^_^

I don't mind reader nouns as long as it isnt fem!!! thanks a whole bunch

persona 5: w/ an s/o who went blind in one eye (ren amamiya)

notes: gn!reader, slight hurt/comfort, eye injury, ren amamiya for protag, established relationship, reader is a phantom thief

injuries in the metaverse typically didn't translate to the real world. at least, not one-to-one. after all, sodas don't give you health boosts in the real world, so the same logic should apply, right?

...not to huge injuries like damage to an eye, it seems.

when you got hurt, ren immediately called off the mission in mementos. said they should call it a day and go home. when you reemerged in shibuya, your eye was still injured, despite the healing you got back in mementos.

ren was... freaking out, to say the least. but he was calm enough to help you to a medical professional to get checked out.

you'd be alright, thank god, but... you were definitely going to be blind in that eye. you tried cracking jokes about how your depth perception won't be so great anymore, which ren laughed at, but he was just wanting to be there for you.

and he was, always helping you out with things you needed and practically being glued to your side. need a cool washcloth? he's got it. eye drops? already have some. hell, just need someone with you to hold you close and make you feel warm and loved? he's your guy!

ren felt extremely guilty, both as your boyfriend and team leader, that you got so badly injured while on a mission. you kept trying to assuage his guilt, saying that you'll be alright and you're just glad you're alive, but poor ren... sometimes he looks at you with eyes that makes him look like a sopping wet cat :(

but he just. loves you too much to stay all sad and self-pitying all the time. it doesn't make you smile, and he just wants you to feel as comforted and loved during this time.

a/n: anon i'm so sorry that happened to you!! hopefully this can provide some comfort, albeit a bit late <3

[myysaints]

I was wondering if it's possible to request a carlos x reader where they get invited to a show like the return of superman and them just being so domestic and so good with the children (let's say it's toddler twins)

It could be a social media au or mixed with some writing or just a one shot of sorts, anything is fine with me.. thank youu

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ CS55 ꒱ BABY FEVER─ CARLOS SAINZ

CARLOS SAINZ x f!wife!reader

genre — fluff

notes — ohhhh anon this was soooo cute!!!! omg i had a blast writing this, absolute cuteness overload 🥰🥰🥰 apologies for the delay in getting back to you, i made this into a one-shot, hope that you enjoy it!

“Hey! Hey, hey, don’t do that!”

The sudden commotion coming from the kitchen piques your interest, and you set your book down, only mildly irritated that your TLC time has been interrupted by Carlos’s yelps. You can hear him grumbling away in the kitchen, and as you round the corner, you’re faced with a sight too good to be true:

Carlos is on his hands and knees, a cloud of flour circling his head. There’s dough on the counter. There’s dough in the sink. There’s even dough on the cabinets overhead – how that got there, you haven’t a clue. Needless to say, the kitchen is an utter mess. Though, you should have expected that: Leaving Carlos alone with a pair of hyperactive toddlers – twins, what’s more – was sure to lead to chaos.

A week ago, you received an invitation from Carlos’s PR team, requesting for your presence on a television show called “The Return of Superman”. A curious name, and an even more intriguing presence: Spending a few days taking care of and getting to know a pair of adorable twins? It sounded absolutely delightful to you. Besides, you and Carlos have been talking about expanding the family for a while now, so you figured this would make a good trial run of sorts.

You lean against the doorframe, watching on in amusement as Carlos – still kneeled on the ground – pleads with the giggling toddlers. The pair of twins are running circles around him, their hands sticky with dough, their faces dusted with flour. They’re shrieking, and each time they pass him, a tuft of hair is pulled, or a clap of dust is sent his way. It’s hilarious; if not for the mess you’ll have to clean up later.

“Alright, what’s going on here?” you say, finally deciding that it’s time for you to step in and save Carlos.

He sends you a grateful, exhausted smile, as you pick one of the twins up, pulling the other’s hands away from Carlos’s hair. He straightens up, smiling sheepishly as he examines the mess that is your apartment’s kitchen. “Well, we wanted to surprise you with cookies. But it seems we… got a little carried away.”

“Cookies!” Mika – the eldest of the twins by two seconds – shrieks, giggling in your arms. She fusses, her pudgy hands reaching out for your face. You pull away with a teasing smile before she can get her grabby hands on your face, and the pouty look on her face is more than enough to have your heart clenching.

“Looks like you guys made a lot more than just cookies,” you hum, guiding Mika to the kitchen sink. As you run the little one’s hands under the water, you nod your head towards Evan – Mika’s other half – who is currently in the midst of trying to sneak out of the kitchen.

Carlos is swift to pick him up in his arms, laughing as the child lets out a peal of laughter. “Nope, not so fast, little one,” he chuckles, ruffling Evan’s flour-covered hair. “You have to help me and Auntie Y/N clean up.”

You set Mika down, gingerly drying her small hands off with a washcloth. She wriggles in your grasp. You don’t miss the way her eyes already set on the ball of dough on the countertop, clearly eager to get back to making a mess. So, in one swift motion, you usher her out of the kitchen and into the makeshift play area you’d constructed for the twins, motioning for Carlos to do the same with Evan.

Following behind, Carlos chuckles, watching as you attempt to wrangle Mika into the playpen. The little girl is stubborn, shrieking as she tries to slip out of your grip and run back to the kitchen. Evan, on the other hand, is much more compliant, dutifully following Carlos’s lead as he totters towards the bookshelf.

“Carlos,” you groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. You try not to let Mika notice your frustration, instead smiling through gritted teeth, “Help me get Mika in!”

He merely laughs, taking the young child’s hands from your own. He kneels down in front of her, patting the space on his back. “Piggyback?” he offers Mika, eyebrows wiggling. Clearly, this gets to her, because she’s instantly clambering on him, little arms snaking around his neck and legs wrapping around his torso.

You watch in adoration at the sight: Carlos coming to your aid like a knight in shining armour. His hair is still messy and a faint white from the flour, and there’s something sticky clinging to tufts of his hair. But you still can’t help but feel so happy with him, so content in this domestic bliss.

Carlos does a couple of laps around your sofa with Mika clinging onto his back, the little girl yelling out in glee all the while. You entertain Evan in the meantime, not wanting him to feel any bit left out.

Finally, Carlos sets Mika down in the playpen, without much fuss, to your immense relief. It seems that all that piggyback riding has tuckered Mika out, for she immediately makes a beeline to the beanbags, nestling up with a large yawn.

“Get some sleep, Hermosa.” You look over from reading to Evan, finding Carlos murmuring softly to Mika, his large hand soothing over her hair. “You look tired. Take a little nap, yeah?”

The toddler makes a small noise of assent, her eyelids already drooping shut. You breathe out a quiet laugh at her attempts to stay awake; they ultimately prove futile, for she falls asleep not long after.

Carlos lumbers over to your side, collapsing onto the ground beside you, clearly exhausted.

A moment of content silence passes, with Carlos blinking owlishly at you, a lazy smile on his face. He leans in to press a kiss to your lips, but you put a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

“Nuh-uh,” you tease, a coy smile toying on your lips. “Not until you get that gunk out of your hair. Your turn to rest, big guy. Hop in the shower, I’ll put Evan to bed.”

He hums in agreement, getting up slowly. On his way out, he gives Evan a soft pat on the head; to which the small boy grins widely.

You do as you say, ushering Evan to his bed and getting him ready for a midday nap, thankful for the boy’s calmness and good nature. You read him a bedtime story, put on some soothing lullabies, and once you make sure he’s fast asleep, you head back to the kitchen and busy yourself with tidying up.

Mika is still soundly sleeping in the playpen, not having moved an inch from when you last left her. So, you pass the time by cleaning the place up. The dishes don’t do themselves, after all.

A familiar arm wrapping around your torso alerts you of Carlos’s presence. You turn around, a smile already on your lips. Now, he doesn’t even give you time to rebut, placing a firm and passionate kiss on your lips, much to your delight. You run a hand through his now-clean hair, playing with the slightly damp strands.

“You ever think…” Carlos begins, arms still wrapped soundly around your body, encasing you in a comforting hold. “Do you think that, maybe, we could have this one day?”

You smile, tilting your head. “This… Like, kids?”

He nods, his eyes fixed on yours, waiting for your response with bated breath. All that’s left for you to do is grin, nod, and peck him softly on the cheek: That in itself, is enough of an answer for Carlos to shower you in a flurry of kisses all over again.

[sovasleepy]

beauty sleep

[ gekko x reader ] — when you fall asleep wearing makeup, gekko does his best to clean your face without waking you ; part 2

warnings: the reader is gender neutral, although the reader is described to be wearing makeup so take that as you will. also a brief mention of being drunk/alcohol but its not gekko or the reader.

notes: requested by anon! i hope you enjoy :)

the usual banter between phoenix and jett played out in front of you. they were high off of a victory, much like yourself and several other agents that had joined together for a victory feast at a local takeout place. what was supposed to be a quick run for food turned into a posse of idiots parading around downtown, much to the credit of an already half-drunken skye.

phoenix quickly followed her, his energy coaxing the fire that was already brewing in the hearts of the agents. a particularly important mission had gone incredibly well that day and the entire team was still riding high.

jett snorted as she shoved phoenix, laughing at whatever cheesy joke he’d laid on her.

“love the energy, but i’m far too tired to match it.” gekko spoke, leaning his head slightly towards you. his voice was much softer and quieter than their’s. it was a sharp contrast to the loud, chirpy voices of those around you.

“couldn’t agree more.” you grumbled.

as much as you loved your friends, you were happy to have them split off into their own directions once you were back at base. gekko was the only one to follow.

he padded toward your door and gently held it open for you. he watched you walk in, but hesitated another moment before speaking.

“could i come in? i know we’re both tired, i just don’t think i’m ready to sleep yet, yknow?”

you nodded and smiled. gekko always had a weird way of matching your emotional state, purposefully or not. absently kicking away a t-shirt that had ended up on your floor, you apologized for the state that your room was in and invited him in.

you proceeded to hit the mattress, and you were out like a light.

“thank you,” he spoke, words falling on deaf ears. his eyes scanned your room. he took in the decorations, noting how such small things were marked by traces of your hobbies or personality. “i just need to be around ‘calm’ for a while before i knock out, is all.”

he sat on the edge of your bed. he didn’t notice the fact that you were asleep. he continued to mutter to himself for another moment, before finally turning to see your reaction.

“well,” he spoke one last time. “that would explain the silence.”

still, he didn’t leave. he felt creepy. as though he was spying on you in some weird way. but you had invited him in, right? so there wasn’t something morally off about it, he assured himself.

he would like to deny the warmth that spread in his chest as he observed you, but that would make him a liar. while the thoughts were always in the back of his mind, he never truly got the chance to fully take you in. every curve and every feature of your face, the slight pinch in your brows as you slept, and the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest. it took him a while to realize the other thing he was seeing.

“isn’t falling asleep with makeup on bad for your skin? or your pillows or something.” he whispered softly to himself.

as he did, he slowly got up from where he sat on edge of your bed. a quick glance around your room offered him nothing, but he didn’t want to turn on your light and wake you. you looked so peaceful, after all.

quietly, gekko walked toward your bathroom. after trying for a miserable ten minutes to figure out which washcloth in your bathroom was the softest, he finally settled on one. he stepped towards your sink to dampen it, where his eyes caught a sleeve with the words “makeup removing wipes” printed on the side.

yeah, that seemed like a better idea than his.

makeup wipes in tow, he finally returned to your sleeping form. slowly, as if it would make a difference, he turned on your lamp. he froze as if to make sure you were still asleep.

he pulled one wipe from the package, gently rubbing at your skin. after a second, he pulled back and checked the wipe. he was doing this correctly… wasn’t he?

how often were you supposed to change wipes? or was it just one for the whole face? how hard was too hard to rub? how expensive were these wipes, anyway? how does he know when your face is clean? would the liquid that dampened the wipe hurt if it got in your eyes?

oh well. he could try his best, at least.

he discarded the dirty wipe in the trashcan near your bed and retrieved a new one. he continued his process of gently rubbing your face, taking extra care around your eyes and making sure he wasn’t pressing down so hard as to irritate your skin.

when he was sure he was done, he closed the container and returned it safely to the bathroom counter.

he came back when he was done. gently setting his weight on the bed, he smoothed down your hair with one hand and smiled at your sleeping form.

“you don’t really need your beauty sleep, but i guess i can let you have your sleep-sleep.” gekko commented after a beat.

he sat up gently as to not disturb you. he clicked off your lamp and shut your door softly behind himself as he left you to rest.