#this is just me writing about my own coffee habits at this point

[fairysongs]

౨ৎ coming home too late﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: based entirely on the song, coming home by beabadoobee. pure fluff.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: soooo much fluff, spencer’s pov, spencer is in love with reader, reader is just as in love with him, very small mention of depression, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader loves to clean, established relationship, derek morgan is spencer and reader's #1 fan, did i mention spencer is in love?

word count: 1.7k

a/n: eeeek my second fic!! i got so happy writing this. maybe the most sickening sweet thing i ever did do. i love beabadoobee's music so much i kinda wanna write a million different things based on her songs. Anyways..!!! as always likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated :3

spencer reid had never felt more relieved to be sitting inside this jet than he was right now.

sure, he’s happy every single time his team is able to wrap up a case. he’s happy every single time they catch the bad guy. he’s happy every single time justice is brought to victims and their families. he’s happy every single time he gets to come home and see you. he’s happy every single time he notices the way your eyes light up when you see him walk through the door. he’s happy every single time you throw your arms around his neck and he gets to pick you up, inhaling your sweet scent as if he’d never be able to embrace you again.

but this time it was a little different. it was currently 6:54pm in california where the latest case was. meaning it was 9:54pm back home. it would take approximately five hours to fly home and another thirty minutes to drive to his apartment. meaning he wouldn’t step through his door until way after three in the morning and he knew you’d be sound asleep by then. and it was saturday, a day that never held much weight to him until he started living with you.

he found out that you grew up with a rather strict routine in your home. your parents deemed every saturday ‘cleaning day’. every saturday you did your weekly chores and that habit stuck with you as you moved on to live with college roommates, on your own and eventually with spencer.

he remembers when he first asked you to move in with him. you’d been dating for about a year and a half at that point. he brought it up in a rather nonchalant way and he was so thankful you were not a profiler and couldn’t tell how hard his heart was beating inside his chest as he started to ask.

“you know… you sleepover here a lot. i mean, you have your own drawer in my dresser, your own space in my closet…” he started one morning, sipping from his mug of sugary sweet coffee. “your skincare stuff in my bathroom, your special shampoos in my shower… your little treats stocked in my fridge…” his lips started twitching, trying to fight the stupid large smile that wanted to show on his face.

you hummed in response, your fingers tapping against your own mug that was full of tea. you hated coffee. when he learned that he bought a box of your favorite tea and kept it stocked in his kitchen. “are you… complaining?” you asked, voice sort of quiet with uncertainty.

he shook his head immediately, realizing he wasn’t being as straightforward as he assumed. “no!” his voice squeaked slightly, causing you to raise your eyebrows. “no… no, i was just… i mean, you spend so much time here and i really love it. i love you being here with me and i… if you wanted to move in i would… i mean, i want you to move in. if you want to. please.”

thankfully your heart was just as pretty as you were and you didn’t let him nervously ramble for too long. instead you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “relax. i’d love to, spencer. but i have to warn you, i’m quite a lot to deal with twenty-four seven…” he would just stare back at you, with nothing but love and admiration pouring from brown hues. he always thought you were so silly when you’d say things like that and he’d spend the rest of the morning telling you that while peppering sweet kisses to every inch of your skin.

he did learn very quickly just how serious you were about your routine. you woke up at six in the morning every saturday. you’d start in the bathroom, then make your way to the kitchen, then collect the dirty laundry from the week, then focus on organizing every little desk and shelf he had in his home. at first you wouldn’t let him help you, explaining that you didn’t want him to feel obligated in helping you with your own crazy little habit. he’d shake his head and just ask you what kind of laundry detergent you liked as he piled clothes into a basket.

“if you keep up with it weekly, then it won’t get out of hand and too big to fix.” you mumbled one time while scrubbing the dishes. “sometimes when the scaries got really bad, i used to forget to keep up with my cleaning. all the mess just made things more unbearable. keeping on top of it makes me feel more in control. even if the ‘cleaning’ one week is just refilling the toilet paper and doing one single load of laundry.”

he nodded his head in response, emptying the trash beneath the sink. spencer was nothing but soft with you, but even more so whenever you mentioned your struggles with depression or ‘the scaries’ as you called it. the two of you quickly fell into a habit every single saturday. you split the work load. you’d do the dishes, he’d carry the trash out, you’d fold the laundry, he’d vacuum the rug. he didn’t have to say it, you’d already know, but he enjoyed the structure of routine just as much as you did. the rest of your saturdays were spent on the sofa, your head in his lap while you forced him to watch your favorite childhood show. takeout food spread across the coffee table in front of you. there was so much comfort the two of you found in the domesticity of it all.

so, yes, he was a little bit upset he missed this saturday and was so ready to get home and pull you into his arms and never let go. he hadn’t noticed him spacing out, eyes focused on the same page of a book he was reading for five minutes, until he heard derek morgan’s voice.

“hey, loverboy!” spencer’s head snapped up, brows furrowing at the man giving him a cheeky smile. “you’ve been staring at that page for an eternity. what’s on your mind, huh?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

you met the whole team ages ago and every one of them adored you but derek especially admired the way you loved spencer. he’d never say it out loud, unless it was in a teasing way to get spencer to blush, but he genuinely believed you were an angel sent to the boy genius. derek noticed how blissful you made him, how gentle you were and how safe he felt with you. how could his heart not swell in appreciation for the love you gave to his brother?

“i missed cleaning day…” spencer spoke, brows pulling together slightly. there was a soft sigh that fell from his lips as he pulled his phone from his pocket. your last text saying you were gonna stay up and wait for him even though you both knew that you’d fall asleep the moment you got comfortable.

“okay… and is that a bad thing?” derek responded, leaning back into his seat with a slightly confused expression.

“well, yeah. she likes cleaning every saturday and we normally split the work between us. that way we have more time to spend together.” spencer huffed and tucked his phone away again. he closed the book he was reading. “it’s more than just the cleaning, derek. i hate being away from her, you know? we never know when we’re gonna get called away on a case like this and i like spending as much time as i can with her. and i hate coming home late. it makes me feel like i’ve missed so much.”

derek breathed out a laugh but nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. emily prentiss came around the corner, one hand holding a cup of coffee and the other resting gently on spencer’s shoulder. “spencer reid, you have become the most smitten, lovestruck man since you met that girl. and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.” everyone on the jet chuckled softly at that, even aaron hotchner, while he blushed and adverted his eye contact towards the shaded window. he knew they weren’t laughing at him, more so showing an expression of how happy they were that he was happy.

he stepped into the dimly lit living room of his apartment at exactly 3:26am. the tv glowed over your sleeping body on the sofa, arms wrapped tightly around a stuffed red panda he gifted you a few birthdays ago. the netflix screen asking ‘are you still watching avatar: the last airbender?’ shined in his face as he leaned in to shut the machine off. he walked over to your sleepy state, a tiny smile growing on his lips as he leaned in to brush some of your hair from your face. he tucked one arm beneath your knees and held the other one to your arm as he carried you to the bedroom.

you stirred, humming softly as he quietly shushed you. “shh, hi baby. i’m home now. go back to bed, yeah?”

“how was the flight?” you asked in a soft whisper, ignoring his requests. he chuckled, shaking his head and he set you gently on the cushion of his mattress.

“it was fine. too long. i’m sorry i’m home late.” he was just as quiet as you, pulling the duvet over your body and tucking it at your shoulders. he picked up the stuffed animal that had fallen beside the bed and tucked it next to you as well.

“it’s okay. we always have tomorrow.” with your eyes still closed, you smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“yes, my love. we do, don’t we? i’m gonna get changed okay? go back to bed.”

“i’ll wait for you.”

when he was changed out of his work clothes and into his pajamas, he turned back and found you soundly asleep again. he let out a quiet laugh, got into bed and pulled you right to his chest. he played with your hair until he fell asleep too, no longer upset about the day he missed with you because you were right.

he always had tomorrow.

[chestersturniolo]

Rainy Sundays

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

The rain tapped gently against the windows, it made everything inside feel warmer and cozier. It was one of those perfect, lazy Sundays—grey skies, rain noise, and no obligations except to stay inside. You and Matt had turned the living room into fluffy fortress of blankets and pillows. Matt moved a couple of chairs from the kitchen, and you’d draped a large sheet over them to create a makeshift fort. Inside, the floor was covered with the fluffiest blankets you could find, every single cushion from the couch.

Now, the two of you were tangled up under the fort, wrapped in a massive blanket. Matt had his arms wrapped around you,pulling you impossibly close, your head resting against his chest,

“This might be my favorite rainy day ever” Matt mumbled,sounding content as he lazily twirled a piece of your hair between his fingers.

“I think it’s my favorite too” you agree, nuzzling a little closer to him, enjoying the way the world outside seemed so far away, like you were hidden in your own little bubble of warmth and comfort.

He reached, pulling the blanket up higher over both of you. You tilted your head up to see him looking down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "This fort is seriously next level. I think we should just move in here permanently”

You laughed softly, reaching up to trace his jaw with your finger. "You’d miss the bed after one night, but we can stay here today”

"Fair point” he chuckled. "but honestly, i wouldn’t trade this for anything right now”

On the coffee table beside the fort was an assortment of snacks you’d gathered earlier—bowls of popcorn, chocolates, and a couple of mugs of hot cocoa that were slowly cooling but still within arm’s reach. Every now and then, one of you would reach out to grab something, but mostly you just stayed wrapped up in each other, too comfortable to move much.

The TV was on, playing a random rom-com you’d both seen a million times, but neither of you were really watching. It was just something to fill the quiet space between the rain and the sound of Matt’s occasional soft laugh or your whispered conversation.

At some point, you felt Matt shift slightly, resting his chin on top of your head. "Y’know-" he said quietly, "-there’s something about days like this that makes me never want to leave. Like, if we just stay here, under this fort, time doesn’t matter”

You smiled at that, a warmth spreading through you at the thought. "Yeah-“ you agreed "-It feels like we’re the only two people in the world right now”

Matt shifted again, dipping his head to look at you on his chest. His eyes were filled with the familiar affection that made your heart melt a little. "I think I could do this forever” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your arm.

You smiled up at him, your fingers drawing random shapes on his chest. "Sounds perfect” you replied, sighing in content.

Hours passed as the two of you stayed wrapped up in eachother, fading in and out of sweet whispered conversation and the sound of rain tip tapping outside. It very quickly became a habit between the two of you. Every rainy day, you’d put up your silly fort, and forget the world.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

a/n; a quick one bc i had the urge to write some matt fluff before i go to sleep :,)

i need this i need this i need this.

love y’all

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

tag list; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274 @yn-ws

[chaosandmarigolds]

“Coco having a thing for older men doesn’t make your quirky it means you have-“

shut up and let me tell you on how amazing of a husband John Price is

now in my head you can either A: be high school sweet hearts

which would entail-

John picking you up in his dad’s 79’ thunderbird for school every morning, never letting you open the door and always having a thermos of coffee, tea, for you

— a habit he kept through 40 or so years of marriage, picks you up for a date night in whatever car he has, never lets you touch a car door

John who takes you to the theater on Friday nights not only because he has a buddy that can get you in for free but also because he works all Saturday and Sunday- but he never forgets to make time for you

—- another habit he tries to keep, Friday nights are date nights, even if they happen once a month he makes it a point to do them

John who stared at you with wide, terrified eyes when he told you he was joining the army. It had been the middle of the night, your father got so scared by the dog barking he had grabbed the gun and almost shot the poor boy-

“When…how long?”

“Not sure.”

“You said…you said you were going to go to Oxford with me. Mean to lie, isn’t it?”

“I wish I could, love. I do.”

John who had written you letters just about every day, so about once a week you would get a total of 50,000 words to read, which he would also receive in neat cursive writing.

And the other option is the…somewhat problematic one, age-gap. Which is a fine line and I do take it seriously, so hypocritically reader is early-mid twenties (22-27) and he’s early fifties late forties

John, who hated himself when he would look at you longer than ten seconds after you finished your report- you worked hard for your role, your were admirable- and too sweet for your own good

“Sir? We’re getting dinner would you care to join?” “I’m fine here.” ”oh…well, I’ll bring you something back, yeah? Any allergies?”

John who assigned extra men to any mission you would go on because he refused to let you see any wound in the field

John would rather die than admit his feelings because you should go Johnny, or Kyle or even Simon before you would even dare try for him

John who would let the entire world burn for one touch of yours

it was pathetic, really and he knew this, utterly obsessed and it was disgusting to even himself. Yet he couldn’t help it. He was yours, even if you didn’t know it.

(ok ok my yap sesh is over :) )

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Merry Christmas, Dad. - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's step-daughter doesn't know what to get him for Christmas, until she comes up with the perfect idea.

A/N: More Christmas morning fluff, this time for our favourite aviator with Daddy issues. This is my third of three six (I like Christmas, ok?) entries for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge to celebrate the holidays with our favourite aviators. Also, I know it's not my best, but I had a dream last night about stepdad!Bradley and I ran with it.

pairing:  Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: adoption inaccuracies, Bradley has a ten year old stepdaughter, fluff

word count: 1.4k

“Mom, can I ask you something?”

You hummed as you looked up from the article you were reading on your phone and smiled softly at your ten year old daughter, Kennedy. Kennedy nervously fidgeted with her hands as she waited for your response, copying your own nervous habit of biting the inside of your cheek whenever there was a discussion you were scared to have. 

“Do you think Bradley would mind if I started calling him “dad”?” Kennedy’s voice was quiet, her eyes shifting their gaze to the floor as she waited for your response.

You and Bradley had dated since Kennedy was 5, she knew a life before he came along, and she’d always called him Bradley - when she was younger, it was simply out of ease for the two of them. You didn’t want to complicate things or pressure her or Bradley into forming a father-daughter relationship that they may not have wanted, especially if anything had broken down between you and Bradley. The last thing you wanted was to leave Kennedy with the sting of two father figures walking out of her life, even though part of you always knew that, had you and Bradley ever split up, he’d never just walk away from Kennedy. Despite the first-name basis your daughter was on with him, he adored her like she was his own. He was there for every moment he could be from the day he met her, wanting to make sure she had the father he didn’t growing up. He wanted to be everything his dad would have been to him, and being that for Kennedy meant the world to him. 

“I think he’d love that, sweetheart, do you want to start calling him that?” You nodded your head, raising an eyebrow at your daughter as you sipped your coffee.

“I do. I, uh, hmmph,” Kennedy frowned, clearly struggling to find the words she was looking for, “I talked to Dad last weekend about it,” she finally said, nodding her head slowly as she spoke.

Kennedy and her biological father had a strained relationship, Kennedy only visiting him due to the court-ordered custody arrangement in place governing visitation rights until she reached 12 years of age. Kennedy hated leaving to go stay with him, she never felt comfortable being with her father’s new family that he’d replaced her and her mom with, but she did it reluctantly every weekend, after a chat with Bradley reminded her that despite everything that had happened between Kennedy’s biological parents, her father still deserved to see her once in a while, until Kennedy was old enough to make that choice for herself. 

“You talked to your dad? How did that go?” 

“Well…I told him that I wanted to start calling Bradley my dad too, he was sort of ok with it, but, I also told him that, I, uh…” Her voice trailed off again as she chewed the inside of her cheek once again, to the point where you were almost concerned about how nervous she was. 

“Kennedy, baby, this is about more than just asking to call Bradley your dad, isn’t it?”

Kennedy slowly nodded her head and pulled out a stack of papers from her school notebook before setting them on the table in front of you. Your eyes skimmed over the words typed out across the page, a State of California emblem emblazoned on the top. 

“Kennedy, where did you get these?” You said slowly, trying to process what your daughter was hinting at.

“The internet. It’s not hard to find them. I want Bradley to sign them for me. Dad said it was ok.”

“Your father ok’d this?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief as you read the paperwork over once more.

“He said if it would make me happy, then he was ok with it,” Kennedy stated matter-of-factly as she nodded her head.

“Mom, I want Bradley to adopt me.” 

You bit your lip and nodded your head, fighting back tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you listened to your daughter. A smile formed on your face as you made eye contact with Kennedy, whose own eyes were starting to fill up with tears as she waited for your reaction.

“Kennedy, you know Bradley would be honoured by that,” You finally said, pulling Kennedy in tightly for a hug.

“Do you think I should give them to him as a Christmas present?” She said thoughtfully, pulling her head back to look at you for a moment. 

“I think that might be the best Christmas present you could give him, Kennedy.”

 A few weeks later, Kennedy proudly stuck a gift box under the tree for each of her parents. She grinned over at her mother as the pair waited for Bradley to come down the stairs after his usual morning shower. Kennedy took her seat on the couch with her stocking in hand as she began unwrapping the items inside, waiting not-so-patiently for Bradley to emerge in his sleep pants and sweatshirt. Finally, you could hear his heavy footsteps coming down the wooden stairs, the stairs making their usual creaking sound under Bradley’s frame as he bounded down them. You kissed his cheek and handed him his coffee before smiling at him. Bradley looked at you both, his lips curling up into a grin from under his mustache. 

“There’s my two favourite girls. Get anything good in your stocking from the Big Guy, Kennedy?” Bradley chuckled as he raised his coffee mug in gesture to the stocking at Kennedy’s feet.

“Braaaaaadleeeeeyyyy,” Kennedy groaned as she huffed and rolled her eyes, “I’m not a little kid, I know it was you who put the stockings out.”

“Me?!” Bradley exclaimed in faux-surprise, “Trust me, I may fly a jet, but I’m no Santa.”

You and Kennedy rolled your eyes in unison as Bradley grinned at you from behind his coffee cup, taking a sip of the warm, creamy brown liquid as he watched Kennedy open a gift. Bradley took his usual seat - his favourite old worn-out lazy boy recliner chair that he’d brought with him when the two of you moved in together. At first you’d protested its mere existence in your home, but, Bradley had insisted you’d grow to love it, and naturally, he wasn’t wrong. It was the chair he and Kennedy used to snuggle up in when she was small, where he’d teach her the rules of baseball and football as they watched games together. Where he’d sit to read to her each night when she was little, proudly taking on the role of professional storyteller for the household. It was the chair where he sat every birthday and every Christmas morning, watching Kennedy open her presents expectantly, watching in anticipation for her reaction every time.

Finally, after the number of presents remaining unopened under the tree had dwindled to just one, Kennedy looked to you with a smirk before scooping the box up in her hand and passing it to Bradley with a grin, trying her best to keep herself from giving the gift away with her reaction alone.

“Here, Bradley, this one’s for you!” She said as she nodded her head, stepping back for a moment as Bradley opened it.

“It’s…an envelope?” Bradley laughed softly and raised his eyebrow, “Kiddo, you got me an envelope? How did you know I needed one of these?!” He teased as he gave her a playful pat on the arm.

Kennedy rolled her eyes and laughed as Bradley opened the envelope. He paused for a moment to read the papers in his hand. As the realization hit him Bradley quickly raised his hand to his face, using a finger to wipe away a tear. He looked up at Kennedy in disbelief and shook his head as he began grinning at her.

“Kennedy, kiddo, you mean it? You want me to adopt you?” Bradley’s voice cracked as he spoke. He was never overly emotional like this, but, you knew that the little girl he’d practically raised for the last five years asking him to adopt her would be one of those few instances that would evoke tears from him. 

“I mean it…Dad.” 

Bradley set the envelope down on the table in front of him and threw his arms around Kennedy, pulling her in for one of his famously tight hugs. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle, nurturing kiss before looking down at her. 

“I love you, kiddo. You wanting me to be your dad means more to me than any award or rank the US Navy could ever give me, you know that?”

[zomb-rabbit]

Rabbit

Rabbit I'm begging you to do stalker headcanons with Mh or EMH guys (you don't gotta ofc! But w o ah)

🐟

AAAA IM SO HAPPY U LIKED THEM !!!! I WAS RLLY HAPPY W HOW THE TOBY ONES CAME OUT :)))) also,,,, watch me hit u w ALL the guys !!!!!!!!!!!!!! (nsfw can come later if u wish fishy, i skipped it cus this is alr a super long post BFJSJFNJS) (also i got to use my rainbow dividers i have saved up cus there's so many ppl YAYYYYYYY)

[📹⛓️‍💥🚬👁️☠️🐇]

Stalker!Brian Thomas / Hoodie / Tim Wright / Masky / Evan Myers / HABIT x gn!reader headcanons :)

Brian ;

ok we know Brian likes to record

so expect there to be at least one camera on you a majority of the time

sometimes he'll leave it in a tree or placed just right behind a fence post, zoomed in on your bedroom window so he can document you and your routine even when he's busy

he's so thoughtful 😸😸😸

definitely the type to perfectly curate a "meet-cute" for the both of you, writing down the coffee place you stop off at on mondays for a pick-me-up, the stores you go to that have your favorite brand of something, he calculates his every action with you long before it's happened.

he knows what he's doing is wrong, but unlike Toby, he's not exactly ashamed of it. if anything he likes the added excitement that you could still find him out

this is one of the times him and Hoodie kind of blur together a little bit, both in morals and actions

Brian is fully willing to do whatever it takes to keep eyes on you and to keep you under his thumb and his alone; it doesn't matter who gets in his way

Hoodie ;

also a big fan of recording, but tends to get much more risky with it

likes the feeling that you might catch a little camera that's nestled in between some trinkets and books or a pile of blankets you keep on your couch

he is a creepy creeper . he wants to watch EVERYTHING

gets his feelings hurt when you close your curtains cus you feel eyes on you (you're right, but still :(()

it takes a lot to deter him from doing everything in his power to keep watch over you

he's not even sure of his own motives, really. sure, he wants to keep you safe and make sure no one else is watching you, but most of the time he's just there to watch.

you're like a doll to him, something to entertain him.

Masky ;

this isn't even part of this i just wanna say the vibe for stalker Masky (and just him in general tbh) for me feels a lot like the intro to My Meds Aren't Working by Dystopia . very slow, calculating, stuck in your own head but still zeroed in on one thing

and it's you ofc !!!!

i think Masky is one of the more scarier guys to have stalking you on this lineup honestly. hot? yes absolutely. terrifying to see constantly out of the corner of your eye, sitting at the bus stop outside your job, standing in the parking lot of the gas station by your apartment complex and staring up into your window? YES VERY

he's haunting. he doesn't go up to you, will go completely brick wall at you if you try to come up to him, and you can never tell what emotion is going on behind his eyes. the few times you've walked closer to him, likely on the street in the earlier stages, he looked hungry. like he was waiting and watching for your guard to be down to do something.

if he knows you'll be out, he'll get into your house to steal some of your clothes- likely your underwear (creepy crawler) and a sleep shirt

you will never see him without the mask on. point blank. not to smoke, eat, anything. he is not human or himself when he's around you; he needs to absorb everything about you.

i don't think of him to be the type to film you, would rather be there in person 24/7. it feels more personal to him.

Tim ;

one of the few guys that feels guilt about what he's doing- he knows how scary it is to feel watched all the time. how awful it is to find out you were right.

he’s embarrassed of himself; he’s prided himself on being stoic and independent for so long that this sudden urge to love you and watch you and know you gives him waves of shame

watches from afar, would definitely try and avoid letting himself get too close to you in person. he’s ashamed of it, but he can’t help himself- he needs you, even if at a distance. 

steals clothes you’ve slept in so he can try and satiate his yearning to be close to you without actually needing to be so vulnerable, with you or anyone

his near dependency on you reminds me of It Will Come Back by Hozier, his obsession is fed by breadcrumbs from the few in-person up close encounters he’s had with you. smiles when he comes into where you work, nervous little waves when you catch him looking at you at the store, soft 'excuse me!'s when you pass by him

you drive him up a wall (lovingly)

Evan ;

Evan feels guilty, but for the ‘wrong’ reasons

i say ‘wrong’ because he’s more concerned with you inevitable introduction to the whole Habit mess, not with the morals of stalking and obsessing over you

despite his guilt, he can’t get enough of you. his persistence rivals Brian's; it’s almost immediate that he tries to get you with him

latches onto you for fear of you leaving- honestly less of a stalker and more on the obsessive side. not good at keeping his hands to himself. 

you might be one of the only cases where he tries to bargain and/or work with Habit, in an attempt to keep you safe or keep you near him out of desperation if you're not listening to him when he tries to convince you to stay with him essentially 25/8

touchy obsessive little critter . give him what he wants before he goes sicko mode (being 10 feet away from you at all times)

Habit ;

does not hide himself AT ALL

will actively be letting you know he's watching

seeing him behind you in mirrors, rabbit motifs everywhere, a random blood splatter in plain sight that no one else seems to see.

he watches, he knows, and he learns

what things make you the most paranoid, all the ways he can slowly introduce himself in a more. friendly light to get you to trust him. to love him.

he's what's best for you, whether you like it or not. it just might take some time for you to get there

ironically for him, think 'The Best Is Yet To Come' by Frank Sinatra. it's just a matter of time before things get so much better. for the both of you, of course!

[fairy-writes]

Hello there 👋

I was wondering if you could write a one-shot for Uta?? Something fluffy w/ a shy/sweet human!reader 😊

Thanks in advance! 💜

DON’T YOU DARE (MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU)

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Uta x Gender Neutral!Human!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): 

Notes: Songfic with the song “Don’t You Dare (Make Me Fall in Love with You) by Kaden MacKay

__________________________________________________________________________

When Uta first realized he was in love with you, admittedly, he panicked a little. 

You were a human. He was a ghoul. It wasn’t a relationship that was supposed to work. 

He couldn’t be in love. That was just absurd. He had more exciting things on his plate than love.

Don't you dare make me fall in love with you

Don't you dare enchant me with those eyes

If I fell through your skies,

There's no way you would catch me

There's a tear in my heart,

But your patch wouldn't match me

Uta first met you when he was at Anteiku, and you happened to walk in. It was busy. Most, if not all, of the tables were full, and when you began to approach, he got an idea of what was happening. 

“Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” You ask shyly, and he gets the feeling that you’re nervous. Which is understandable with his appearance. He was used to it. 

He nods once, and your expression relaxes as you sit down. The tenseness of your shoulders eases, and you pull out a sketchbook and flip to a new page as Touka brings over your drink. You smile at her and whisper a “thank you.”

You sketch in silence until he feels the need to have a conversation. It’s more of a whim, really, the urge to get to know a human to learn if they’re all like the CCG and Doves. 

“What are you drawing?” He asks, and you jump. But you turn around and show him nonetheless, and he’s blown away. 

It’s rough, with stray lines in some places, but it’s a perfect picture of himself, reclining in the chair and his coffee in hand.

You even got the lettering of his tattoo around his neck right.

The longer he stares, the more fidgety you become. 

“Sorry, I can get rid of it if you want. I know it might be rude to draw other people without permission—” 

“No, no, it’s beautiful. Thank you for choosing me as a model.” He finds himself saying, and his cold heart flutters when you beam. 

You end up gifting him the picture, and after you exchange names, you leave. 

He finds your number hastily scrawled at the bottom of the drawing. 

Being near you still adds to the size of my sighs,

There's still seismic events at hellos and goodbyes,

And I still need reminders of why it's unwise

To stare

So don't you dare

The longer he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of you becoming friends. You’re shy, but you’re sweet and a brilliant artist. You would be entertaining, at least. 

But he’s likely never to meet you again, so that idea snuffs out like a candle. So he doesn’t text you. 

At least until you walk into his shop. 

You are admiring one of his masks on display when he enters the room from the back. He had heard the door jingle but wanted to finish some of the final stitching of the current mask he was working on. It was for the new half-ghoul Kaneki Ken. But that was beside the point. 

What were you doing here?

Don't you dare make me fall in love with you

Don't you dare do something so cliché

Just get out of my daydreams,

You're an unwelcome guest

And stop making me miss you

'Cause you leaving's for the best

You look up as he comes in, and confusion brightens your eyes. 

“Uta?” You ask, and he nods,

“That’s me. Welcome to HySy ArtMask Studio.” He says, more out of habit than anything. You offer him a smile, and he finds his heart trembling at the sight. 

What was wrong with him?

“I heard there was a mask studio that could offer a lot of inspiration. I didn’t know you owned it.” You comment as you cradle your sketchbook against your chest. Your pencil is stuck behind your ear, and you’re dressed in a thick knit sweater and trousers. Your boots scuff against the floor. 

He finds himself gesturing to the masks. 

“Make yourself at home.” He says, genuinely meaning it. 

'Cause I just couldn't stand having you as my crutch

You're a simmering stovetop I was tempted to touch

If you ever return, it'll burn me too much

To bear

So don't you dare

After the initial text, you are really the only one keeping up the conversation. Sure, Uta replies, but he keeps a certain amount of distance between you two. Mainly for your safety. 

But for whatever reason, you keep coming back. 

Your presence becomes a regular in his shop. You come every Friday, right after your university classes. Even though you are his age, if not a year younger, you say you are working toward your bachelor’s degree in—you guessed it—art. 

You say you want to open your own shop and sell your artwork. 

Much like him. 

And I know it's all so shallow, but a shallow cut still stings

And before my heart becomes Amelia's heir, I need to clip its wings

So don't you dare keep mocking me with those

Thousand little things that I adore

Let me ignore you, don't let me care

He tries to ignore you the closer you two become. 

For your safety. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

And don't you dare leave me still in love with you

Nothing's fair when love is war

And I just can't endure any more of the fight

When the casualties rise with my heart rate each night

At first, Uta thinks he’s dying. Of course, that would explain why you always make his heart race and his blood run hot. 

That would explain why you’re always on his mind. 

Right?

Though I know I'm to blame for the glances I'd steal,

For the time I kept spending pretending it's real

And now that it's ending, I still have more feelings to spare

But don't you dare

It takes a talking to from Yomo for him to realize what’s going on. 

Don't you dare

When Uta first realized he was in love with you, admittedly, he panicked a little. 

But he doesn’t hate the idea. 

[ddejavvu]

omg I BEG of u to write a fic about the thing anon mentioned about dbf obi-wan 😭 /nf maybe reader is like anakin's age and her master is yoda.

i also think it would be really interesting if reader tends to be quite similar to her master yoda where she's usually calm and collected and zen and all that, but just cant keep her head clear when obi-wan's around NFNAJFJSKDB i'm already blushing just thinking about it!!! i just know you'd write this beautifully!!! /gen

Brewing and serving a perfect pot of tea is something inescapable as Grandmaster Yoda's padawan. You'd been trained in proper steeping rituals before you were ever trained in lightsaber combat, and you take a bit of pride in your craft even though it's a skill most might consider less-than-impressive in the overall catalogue of a Jedi's skills.

All of that is why you should not have dropped the teapot you'd been carrying upon seeing your master's houseguest, but Master Kenobi catches it with wide eyes and a steady hand. The teapot hovers mere inches above the ground, giving you a measly two seconds to gather your composure before a twitch of Master Kenobi's hand lifts it back up onto the tray you're miraculously still carrying.

You have very un-Jedi-like feelings towards Master Kenobi. You'd never thought much of him- nor anyone for quite some time, but you'd travelled outside of the temple, spent time on other planets, socialized with hundreds of different people in the galaxy, and the auburn-haired man in front of you has recently topped the charts of people you would be attracted to, if you weren't a Jedi forbidden from attachment.

"Sorry." You stammer, heart hammering in your chest from a mix of adrenaline and something else you refuse to name, "I- I lost my balance."

Your master snorts from his place on his tea cushion, a tiny thing at the head of the coffee table where you set the tea tray, "Uncoordinated, you are today, Padawan."

"Yes, Master." You agree miserably, pouring tea for Masters Yoda and Kenobi before pouring your own cup. You want to come up with an excuse, overtiredness or a troubling class assignment on your mind, but there's nothing your master won't see through.

"It's quite alright, dear." Master Kenobi places a hand over your own where you set the teapot down, and your eyes dart towards his own. Your trained Jedi composure allows for you to keep your face in a neutral expression, but there's very little hiding the slight shake to your hands as you reach for the sugar.

"Anakin has a habit of spreading his mechanical projects over our carpets like we live in a junkyard. I know that they're there," The bearded Jedi master smiles, "And every morning I still step sure-footedly out of my bedroom expecting not to be impaled through the foot with a jagged wire. Jedi agility cannot completely remove natural clumsiness."

"Remove clumsiness for me, it did." Your master huffs, squeezing the sap out of some deadly looking berries and into his teacup, "A better Jedi I am, than you two."

"You tripped over your own walking stick yesterday," You point your spoon accusatorily at him, and you nearly lose your conviction when it draws a warm chuckle from Master Kenobi's throat.

"Hmmph. Disrespectful, you are." Yoda gripes, but you see through his stern facade, "Sleep outside tonight, you will."

"Master!' You shriek, nearly choking on both your laughter and your tea, "That's not fair!"

"Don't worry, dear." Master Kenobi stretches his leg out beneath the coffee table to rest against your own, "You're welcome to stay the night in my quarters if your Master kicks you to the curb." He winks, "Anakin is gone on his first solo mission, so the two of us will have plenty of room."

You know the whole thing is one big joke, and you also know that Master Kenobi's offer is nothing but platonic. But still, the invitation, the assurance that you'll be alone with plenty of room- room for what? - you're barely able to nudge his leg back teasingly and glare half-heartedly at your master.

"I'm reporting you to the Council." You decide, but your threats come out weaker than intended due to the continued press of Master Kenobi's leg against your own beneath the table, "You may be the Grandmaster, but the neglect of a padawan is serious business."

"Two nights," Master Yoda snickers, "Two nights, you will sleep outside."

You let out an exasperated groan, but the last of your composure slips away upon meeting Master Kenobi's kind gaze, his eyes twinkling with gorgeous mirth, "You can stay with me for as long as you'd like."

[turtletaubwrites]

Gag Order

Thank you, @princeasimdiya12 for this request, I had such a great time writing it!

*Please read the tags!! This is very DubCon!

Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3268

Ao3 Link

Summary: You catch your boyfriend flirting with another woman, and you can't stop your worries. Until you decide to use your talents as a hypnotist to make sure you're the only one Sanji flirts with. He told you he only wants to be with you, so what's the harm in helping him keep that promise?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Modern AU, Implied/Referenced Cheating, not confirmed but Sanji flirts and reader gets worried, Alcohol, Hypnotism, Manipulation, Gags, Bondage, Swearing, Smut, Hand Jobs, Established Relationship, Pet Names, Sub Sanji

A/N: The reader uses hypnosis and sex to manipulate Sanji into not flirting with other women, controlling his behavior. Please do not read this one if those themes may be triggering.

Extra A/N: I DO NOT CONDONE THE ACTIONS IN THIS FIC. This is not how hypnosis works, and I would not condone it if it did. Our subconscious minds won’t accept suggestions that go against our interests. (Cults are a different story, but hypnosis sessions could not do this.) Any who, I hope you enjoy it 😊

You remembered the way you’d blushed, shaking your head at his cheesy line. Still, something about the way he’d tilted his head, crinkling his eyes just a little, made his excessive compliments creep in like teasing fingers on your skin.

And he’d gotten you. Sanji was yours, and you were his. That’s what he promised you.

So why were you in the parking lot of your favorite coffee shop watching him tilt his head at the barista, waiting at the counter to keep talking as she prepared his drink? Why was she blushing, looking at him through her lashes?

You started the car before he grabbed his drink from her hand, chewing the inside of your mouth as you drove to a bar instead.

I knew what he was like. He’s just a flirty person. I have no reason to doubt him.

But what if I do? That’s how he got me. What if he just can’t help himself? What if it’s all a lie?

Those thoughts burned more than the scotch you sipped, failing to calm your nerves.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, opening a new email from your business account. 

It should be a run of the mill client, and you fell into the rhythm of scheduling and exchanging details. 

Hypnotizing clients to break bad habits was your bread and butter. Your lips twitched with a hint of pride in your work. 

At least I’m confident in one area of my life. 

That thought brought that sickening, writhing mass back to your gut, and you hated yourself for feeling this way. 

Bad habits…

You held your glass in the air in front of you, forgetting you were about to take a sip as your mind started racing.

No. Fuck. I couldn’t…

Leaving the scotch on the bar with a tip, you followed your worst impulses out the door for an impromptu shopping trip.

~

‘I’ve got a surprise for you. My place tonight?’

He answered that text almost immediately, and you let out a nervous giggle as you set things up. 

Part of your brain was screaming at you, logic and morals getting squashed by your determination.

His knock on the door felt like the point of no return.

“Hello, my love. I can’t wait to see what kind of surprise my darling has in store for me tonight.”

His hands and lips were already on you, just enough to send heat to your cheeks. 

He’s so good at getting me flustered. 

The image of that blushing barista cooled your blood, and you placed your hands on his face, willing yourself to keep steady.

Pressing your lips to his, you grabbed his wandering hands, pulling him to the bedroom. You turned on a dim lamp to reveal the chair you’d set up, displaying your new toys.

The sight of the ropes and gags made Sanji stumble, an audible moan making your own body tighten.

“I take it you’re interested?”

His heavy lidded eyes pulled away from the chair, meeting yours as a small shudder ran over his skin.

“What are we…”

“I thought I’d finally treat you to something you’ve been asking for.”

“Mm, and what’s that, my dear,” he asked, recovering enough to tease, running his thumb along your hip as he drew you closer.

“I’m going to hypnotize you.”

Sanji’s eyes widened, excitement evident in his features, before he tilted his head toward the chair.

“Do you normally tie up and gag your clients, angel? I didn’t know you were in this line of business.”

He breathed his words along the skin of your neck, his voice raspy with heat, and you let out a soft moan.

“No, sweetie, that’s just for you. If you’re open to it, of course.”

Sanji released a low laugh, placing the ropes and gags on the bed. He sat down, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair as he grinned at you. 

“I’m glad you’re so eager,” you teased, standing in front of him. You slipped into a colder, almost professional tone. 

“Do you consent to being bound, gagged, and hypnotized?”

Even in the low light, you could see the imprint of Sanji’s dick, hard and straining against his slacks as he shivered.

“What are you hypnotizing me to do?”

He was practically liquid on the chair, breathing heavily. You leaned in over him, letting an evil smile touch your lips. 

“To be a better boyfriend.”

The small shock, and mock outrage on his face made you grin. 

“If you consent, you can strip now.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he removed his clothes. You enjoyed the show, especially as you watched his face. 

I didn’t lie. He said it’s okay.

Your excuses were pushed away, along with your guilt and doubt as you watched his gorgeous, naked body sit before you, his heavy cock twitching occasionally as his eyes roamed your features.

As you knelt beside him, tying him to the chair, you let your voice sink into that soothing cadence. You explained what was going to happen, the process of induction, of bringing him to the relaxed state of mind needed for hypnosis. 

Trailing your fingers along his body, you asked permission to gag him, and permission to touch him.

I’m doing all of this right. He said he wants to be with only me. He wants to be mine. I’m just helping him.

The sight of Sanji bound before you, helpless to whatever you chose to do next, sent a thrill through you.

“We’re going to begin now. Are you ready?”

“Yes, darling. I’m all yours.”

~

Sanji’s mouth was parted as he stared up at your fingers, your hand above his head so that he was looking as high as he could without tilting his neck. Your other hand lay loose at your side, ready. 

This process was so natural to you now, that it had almost become your own hypnotic state. 

“Sanji. You will be totally relaxed. You will be able to hear me, and feel me, and answer my questions, and your mind and body will stay in a deep level of relaxation.”

“I am going to count from ten down to one, and with each number, and each breath, you will become more and more deeply relaxed, moving gently down.”

As you counted down, repeating the commands for relaxation, you watched his body for signs. His eyes were already fluttering, then you allowed them to close as he continued listening.

He’s going to be so easy to hypnotize.

Smiling at the thought, you started your next test. Bringing your free hand to give a loud snap at your next command, you watched his body jolt slightly before practically melting. 

“Every time you hear the snap of my fingers you sink even deeper, going deeper, drifting deeper. As your mind and body relax completely, you are open to hypnosis, open to my suggestions. As you go deeper,” *snap* “drift deeper,” *snap* “sink deeper,” *snap* “Your body and mind are accepting and welcoming suggestions.”

Normally, you’d test a client’s level of relaxation again with an arm test, but his were tied. However, you knew you didn’t need to. Some people take to hypnosis so naturally, they are the easiest clients. 

And Sanji was so easy. 

You finally brought the long count down to one, confirming and commanding that Sanji was ready to accept suggestions, and to answer questions. 

“Alright Sanji, now that you are fully relaxed, you are going to answer questions easily and truthfully. Answer me now.” *snap* “Are you ready to answer my questions?”

“Yes.”

“Good, Sanji. As you answer each question you feel relaxation move through you. Do you want to be a better boyfriend?” *snap*

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. The feeling of wanting to be a good boyfriend grows even stronger now as you,” *snap* “go deeper, drift deeper. That feeling will continue to grow as you relax,” *snap* “deeper.”

You continued snapping and repeating throughout your commands, loving how easily, and quickly he took to them. 

“In a moment now, Sanji, you will feel my fingers on your skin. You will stay relaxed as you follow my suggestions. But first answer this question honestly and truthfully.”

“Do you flirt with other women?”

“Yes.”

“Is that something a good boyfriend would do?”

“No.”

*snap*

“Good, Sanji. You want to be a good boyfriend, and now you know what not to do. It’s just a habit, and habits can be changed.”

Sanji let out a little whimper, a common thing for clients to do when facing uncomfortable information or guilt during session. 

“You are doing so well, your mind and body are relaxed and accepting suggestions.” *snap* “Now Sanji, we are going to help you become a better boyfriend. You will feel my touch now, and every touch will only bring you deeper into relaxation.”

You picked up the ball gag and traced it along his chest and arm before touching his face. You coached and guided him to open his mouth, using your fingers to gently pry open his lips and jaw. Soft noises left his throat as you fastened it behind his head, checking that it was a good fit.

He was so helpless. You didn’t realize how much you’d enjoy the sight of him like this.

“You are doing so well, Sanji. So relaxed, breathing through your nose so well.”

Sanji gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, and your mouth dropped open when you noticed his swollen cock, precum leaking down his shaft.

You had to pause for a couple minutes at the sight. Luckily, when clients are in such deep hypnosis, you can often take a short break without them noticing. You normally need to stretch, have water, and a cough drop halfway through a two hour session. 

Right now you needed to catch your breath, trying to focus on your goal instead of Sanji’s gorgeous cock crying out for your attention. 

Fuck.

“Sanji, as you relax, you notice how your body feels. You are relaxed as you pay attention to how your lips, your tongue, and your jaw feel. As you relax now Sanji, you will continue to answer my questions. Do you flirt with other women?”

“yhh.”

The muffled sound strained from the back of his throat. You knew his answer was the same as before. 

“Is that something a good boyfriend would do?”

“ghn.”

“Good, Sanji. Now let your body remember how this gag feels. How it presses your tongue, and stops your words. You are going to use this feeling, your body is going to carry it with you, to help you be a better boyfriend.”

He nodded, small tears forming under his closed eyes. 

“Take yourself back now, going back in time to this afternoon. Picture yourself at the coffee shop. You are there now, you can see what you saw then. The smells, and the sounds wash over you. The power of your subconscious mind is bringing you back to that moment. That woman is there, the barista, speaking to you while she makes your coffee. Are you there now?” *snap* 

“yghh” 

“Were you flirting with that woman?”

A few more tears fell down over Sanji’s stretched cheeks as he grunted his ‘yes.’

“Is that what a good boyfriend would do?”

You paused after his muffled ‘no,’ his admittance of his behavior fueling your desire to see this through. 

I’m just helping him with a bad habit. 

“As you relax deeper,” *snap* “going deeper, you will go back to that moment. You will look at that woman that is not your girlfriend. And when I snap my fingers you will flirt with her just like you did then.”

*snap* 

With his tongue fully pressed beneath the large ball gag, whatever his line was that he’d used on that woman was lost, only grunts and drool spilling from his lips now.

“Your body remembers this feeling. It will carry it through, beyond this session. You want to be a good boyfriend. So now, when you want to flirt with a woman that isn’t your girlfriend, your subconscious mind will bring back this feeling. Flirting is just a habit. Now your body is helping you change that habit. Because you want to be a good boyfriend.”

Each command was accompanied by a snap, and you relished in how deep he was in hypnosis, how pliable. 

This is going to work.

“When I snap my fingers, you will say that you want to be a good boyfriend.”

*snap*

“Mn mwnn gh ghm mm ghmm ghmmrrmn.”

“We’re going to practice this again. Your mind is taking you now to another moment when you flirted with a woman that was not your girlfriend. Your mind is traveling there now.”

Sanji waited so perfectly for you as you removed his ball gag. You grabbed a soft cloth from the bed, wiping the spit that was dripping down his chin, before stuffing the fabric into his mouth. 

“When I snap my fingers, you will flirt with her like you did then.”

This fabric wasn’t as effective as the ball gag, and you tried to makeout what his line had been. 

“Whths ah ghoohthy lch ygh ghnng ng ah ghlsh lch thss?”

Even through the gag you could feel the hint of his purr, and it spurred you on. 

“When I snap my fingers, you will say that you want to be a good boyfriend.”

*snap*

“Eh whnn gh ghh ah ghoogh ghhrrnngh.”

You commanded again that his body would remember this feeling, carry it over. Then you removed the fabric, bringing your final tool in front of his face.

“Now, Sanji, in a moment I will have you open your eyes, just enough to see what I have in my hands.”

You showed it to him, then started trailing it slowly over his thighs, chest, and arms. 

“This is your handkerchief now. It will be your anchor. Everyday, you will put it in your pocket, and it will remind you of your goal to be a better boyfriend.”

You brought it to his hand, rubbing it gently over his fingers. 

“Each day that you touch it, your subconscious mind will remember.” 

You brought it to his lips, covering his mouth and clamping your hand over it. 

Again, you led him to a memory of flirting with another woman, training him to remember how this feels. 

“Your subconscious mind is accepting these suggestions, and they will carry over. Your mind will recall exactly how you have felt tonight. The next time you feel the urge to flirt with another woman, your body will remind you of these feelings.”

You folded the handkerchief, stuffing it into his pants’ pocket, unable to stifle a small smile as your heart raced, the reality of what you’d just done hitting you. 

You knelt in front of him, amazed at how hard he still was after all of that work.

“You’ve been doing so well, Sanji. I know you want to be such a good boyfriend. And good boyfriends get good things. Would you like something good, Sanji?”

“Yes,” he stuttered, finally free from the gags.

“Soon I will count back up from ten to one, and your conscious mind will let go of all that we’ve done, but your subconscious mind will remember. Your conscious mind will only remember the relaxation, and the pleasure, but your subconscious mind, and your body will remember it all. You will carry all of these suggestions with you.”

“And as I count you back to this moment, you will feel so much pleasure. You will be completely present, and happy to be with your girlfriend. You will feel so good knowing that you are a good boyfriend. Are you ready to feel good, Sanji?”

He nodded, making sweet, needy noises for you.

You started to count him out, going slowly as you traced your fingers on his lap. Continuing your commands as you teased his tip, his body started shaking as much as the ropes would allow.

“You’re being so good for me, Sanji. So good. Three.” *snap*

Stroking his cock now, you knew it wouldn’t be long. You spaced out your count, bringing him out so slowly so you could time it right.

“I wanna be a good boyfriend…”

The words came out of him without your command, Sanji’s pathetic whine making you drip with need. 

“You are.” *snap* “You are a good boyfriend, Sanji. Now, when I snap my fingers one more time you will be awake and alert with me here and now. You will open your eyes, and you will feel so good, and your body will remember.”

The feel of his swollen skin in your hand set you on fire, and you waited until you watched him twitching, feeling him pulsing.

*snap* 

Sanji opened his eyes, mouth slack as he met your gaze. Then his eyes rolled back, his come shooting straight up over his lap, making a mess. 

He let out the most gorgeous, unrestrained moans, and you kept going until every drop spilled out of him, dripping down your fingers.

His head was still tilted back, and his breath was heavy for a few long moments.

“Are you okay,” you asked, your voice soft with worry. 

What if he remembers? What if he’s angry?

“Mm, I feel incredible, my love. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relaxed in my life.”

You let out a tiny squeal of happiness, standing up to reach his lips for a kiss.

He’s all mine.

~

You waited in the parking lot the next day, hoping he’d stick to the same schedule. Again, shoving aside all the guilt and worry, you just focused, obsessing over if this worked.

Huddling down in your seat with a gasp, you watched your boyfriend walk in, staring at his profile as he waited in line. 

Sanji got to the front, pulling out his wallet as he pointed to the menu. It was the same woman from the day before, and you cringed at her playful smile. 

Sanji smiled back, and your heart sank. 

Until he reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out the handkerchief.

Sanji looked away from her as she took his card, and you watched in sick pleasure as he covered his whole mouth with the fabric, holding it over his lips just as you had. 

The woman tried to talk to him after she returned his card, but he could hardly look at her, still holding the handkerchief to his face as he nodded. 

He walked away, standing against the wall as he waited. 

Guilt and triumph filled you, and your hands were shaking as you grabbed your keys. 

You let out a little scream when your phone chirped, dropping your keys, then laughed at your nerves. You started the car, wanting to get out of there before he came outside, but you saw his name on your phone’s screen. 

More fear flooded you, and you saw that he was still waiting against the wall, staring at his phone. 

Holding your breath, you checked the text.

‘Can I cook dinner for my beautiful girlfriend tonight? Already missing your face, my love 💖’

You tossed your phone to the passenger seat, and drove away, body buzzing. You couldn’t believe how giddy you felt, and you kept squealing and biting your lip. 

Amidst the giddiness you still felt guilt, but you kept shaking it away, telling yourself it was for the best. 

Now he’s all mine, and I’m all his. That’s what he promised me anyway. 

Thank you for reading! 💜

a/n: Once again, hypnosis can't do that, and I wouldn't condone this either way. But I had fun with this one, and I hope you did too!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

buy me a coffee ☕💜

[formulaforza]

hello, hello! can i request a blurb where carlos and reader have moved in together and are having a housewarming party. they’ve invited a couple drivers over and lando tries to use the fancy hermes blanket on the couch and reader gasps! "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-" you’d do it amazingly 🫶🏼 thank you!

—coming home carlos sainz x reader love, mackie... hi nonnie!! this turned into exactly how I needed to spend my evening (my day was quite literally from hell.) and this ran a little longer than a blurb at 1.3k words! regardless, I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it (and listening to lots of Spanish music)

There wasn’t much that was easy about blending the home decor styles of you and your boyfriend. For every item that Carlos fell in love with, you had an equal and opposite styled piece that you were in love with. From the herringbone floors to the tall white walls, it seemed that everything in the place was a direct contrast of the other. Quiet luxury and old money and neon signs and maximalist paint swatches, it was almost an entire year before the two of you finally allowed guests to come over (which–by the way–was a direct conflict to one of the major reasons the two of you decided to move in together in the first place: hosting friends and family without arguing over who would be doing the hosting).

The week following the Spanish Grand Prix felt like the perfect time to finally show your home off to the people you loved most; everyone was already in Barcelona for Carlos, an hour and change flight or a two and a half hour train ride wouldn’t kill any of them, not when half of them had to make their way back to the capital. 

That’s how it all cumulated into the night of all nights. The coffee table books are surrounded by half full, mis-matched wine glasses on old Spanish tile coasters (a compromise the two of you had made over the intricate hand painted ceramic that previously adorned the kitchen walls). The record player in the corner of the room stutters its way through Carlos’ dusty Boleros In Trío vinyl while the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen serenades listeners with the sounds of Sebastian Yatra. 

Everytime Carlos enters a room, he flips the lightswitch on. You follow behind him turning the overheads back off, opting for the warm yellow lamp light and the colors of the city beyond the bistro-themed balcony.  He burns a candle on the stack of decorative books, something with tobacco and cocoa and brandy and–jasmine, maybe? He always picks candles with jasmine, so you might just be imagining the smell out of habit. 

And you, and him. The two of you so terribly settled into the domesticity of your shared lives, the air of love in every corner of the home. He appears in the kitchen in a warm breeze, reaching over your arm to grab a slice of chorizo from the tapas platter on the counter in front of you. He kisses your cheek when he does it, undoubtedly in hopes of distracting your hand from smacking his. “¿Tienes frío, mi amor?” Are you cold, my love? He peruses around the bite of food. 

“¿No porque?” No, why? You ask, pressing the back of your hand against your cheek to feel the temperature of your own skin. 

“Lando sigue y sigue sobre tener frío,” Lando is going on and on about being cold, he explains. “Estaba empezando a pensar que me estaba volviendo loco.” I was starting to think I was going crazy.

You laugh. If anything but temperate, you’re warm, working around the kitchen perfectly plating a platter for your friends and family to snack on. “Bueno, creo que Lando ha perdido la cabeza,” Well, I think Lando has lost his mind. Carlos chuckles, gives you another passing kiss as he moves behind you around the island. “¿Encontrarle una manta, sin embargo?” Find him a blanket, though? You ask. He nods through a chew, holds his thumb up as he backs out of the room—you wonder how he managed to sneak another bite of food past you. 

You appear with the tray of snacks, chorizo with ham and cheese and bread, croquetas and patatas bravas and tigres. If it’s all as good as it was when you’d tested the menu last weekend, your company won’t even realize that you and Carlos aren’t serving them an actual meal this evening. Everyone hastily moves their coasters and glasses and Carlos moves the stack of books from the coffee table to the entertainment center, hovers behind you as you set the heavy platter down just in case you need him. 

You find your seat next to Carlos on one of the sofas, know that he hates that people are eating on his new couches. He’d researched them for months–months–before finally deciding on the ones that had been delivered last month as a replacement to the ones from your old apartment. 

You notice Lando is still blanketless, still dramatically letting a shiver run up his entire body every ten minutes. “Güey,” you say, and half the room looks up from their conversation, Lando’s eyes meeting yours. “If you are cold still, get a blanket.”

“Ay yai yai, pollita, relax,” he quips back in a thick, feigned Spanish accent. Carlos snorts and you meet Lando with your middle finger, an old friend of his. When you look to your boyfriend to meet his dumb chuckle with the same fate, he’s not even paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he picks at the bottom of a shelf hung on the wall above the two of you. It holds his trophy from Silverstone, a picture of him and Caco, a small jar full of incense sticks (maybe the jasmine you smell), which he has stuck a tiny Spanish flag into, and a picture of you and he following his win. The smiles on both your faces are so horribly cheek-aching that you can almost feel the phantom soreness when you look at it. 

You watch as Lando reaches over another friend with a quiet excuse me. You can see the thought process happening behind his eyes, in his path for the blanket draped over the back of Carlos’ brand new couch. It’s like watching the world’s lowest stakes car crash. 

“Carlos,” you whisper. “Carlos, él va por la cobija,” he’s going for the blanket, you say through gritted teeth, nudging your boyfriend to deal with his friend.  He ignores you, still focused on the bottom of the shelf and the single splinter that shoots off it. “Carlos,” you say, this time with more force. 

“¿Qué?” You finally get his eyes, nodding over to Lando, who is currently unfolding the Hermés throw blanket Carlos’ mother had gifted the two of you upon signing your lease. “Ay! Cabrón! No,” he finally says, standing up from his seat and moving to take the blanket from Lando, who looks on in utter confusion as Carlos refolds the throw and moves down the hallway. 

“What the fuck?” He asks you through a meek chuckle. 

“We don’t use that blanket,” you explain, and he looks even more confused than before. 

“You… hu–what?” He laughs, with more confidence in his confusion than before. “Why is there a blanket on the couch if it can’t be used?”

You sigh, your eyes rolling behind closed lids. “It’s for decoration.”

“It’s for decoration?” You nod, just as Carlos appears from the hall again, usable blanket in tow, expensive throw likely put away in your shared bedroom. He hands it to Lando. “It’s for decoration,” the Brit teases. 

Carlos shrugs, holds his hands up in defense in the return to his seat beside you. “Rule maker,” he says, pointing to you with a thumb before shifting it to himself, “rule follower.”

You laugh, adjusting to the sink of the cushion brought on by Carlos’ weight on the couch, your fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck without even the beginnings of a thought. Lando groans, pointing to you, “whipped,” and then to Carlos, “whipped… but more.”

“Stellar delivery there, cabrón,” you smile. “No stutter or anything.”

Carlos exhales a sharp laugh, his shoulders bouncing silently. Across the coffee table, Lando, curled up in a fluffy blanket like a toddler staying up past their bed-time to hang out with Mom and Dad’s friends, flips you off and is sure to properly enunciate his silently mouthed fuck you.

[multiversxwhore]

Richie x plus size black!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight breeding, oral (f) receiving, public sex, sex around/near food in a public kitchen, use of the phrase “daddy”, age gap: reader is in their twenties ( 24/27).

Timeline: before The Original Beef underwent renovations, and became, The Bear, around season 1.

A/n: yeah…I felt slutty writing this, and I totally blame all the TikTok edits for the down pour of Richie thirst videos I’ve received from my friends. Anywho, it’s not anything too special considering I’m posting at 5am. Hope you enjoy, please reblog, and follow me for more.

Ate pm

It was late, and the kitchen had closed, everyone had already gone home. However, Rhichie made you promise to show him your sweet potato recipe, “are you gonna pay attention to what I’m trying to teach you, or are you gonna keep goofing off?” It was an innocent enough ask, however, he’s been trying to get at you for a while, and would take any opportunity to flirt with you. Especially if it was away from spying eyes. During work hours you liked to pretend he wasn’t flirting with you all day, Carmen had even made a sly comment about Richie not being able to keep up with girls half his age. To which he arrogantly replied, ‘my mouth works just as well as my dick motherfucker,’ it nearly made you spit your morning coffee.

“I’ll pay attention when you stop talking, and actually show me something.” He quickly rebutted, he smirked when your words got caught in your throat, and instead of arguing back you turned to your food. Something about the attention he relentlessly gave you got you all hot and flustered, but you loved it. He’d slide past you and whisper a, ‘fucking gorgeous today,’ on the way through the kitchen. Recently, you noticed how territorial he’s become from all the compliments you’ve gotten from male customers. Too nice to turn down men’s persistent advances you would take the phone number offered to you, and it got to a point where Richie would start taking orders, and working register with you just so he could shoo the men away. ‘Aye, you’re holdin up my line jackoff, beat it.’

“Are you gonna let me taste it?” He asked in a soft voice, almost a whisper, you weren’t aware he could be so quiet because he’s usually so boisterous. He stood with his hip leaning against the counter, his head tilted, and an expression of amusement on his face.

You looked over at him with a shocked look. “What?” You stood frozen in place, you felt like if you blinked you’d miss something. ‘Am I crazy or did he just–’ Richie held your gaze, he pushed himself upwards, and leaned in closer to you. The scent of his liquor store oils invading your senses, you didn’t like men’s Versace the last time you smelled it, but on him it was perfect.

“The pie y/n, can I taste the pie filling?” He clarified, but his fingers were already dipping into the bowl before you had a chance to stop him. By the time you processed what he had done, his hand was already moving to his mouth where he sucked the mixture clean off. You couldn’t help but watch as his fingers slowly slid from his lips, the way they glistened reminded you of your own when you delved as deep into yourself as your atomy would allow. You’d guiltily call out Richie’s fingers wishing it was his hand pleasing you instead, over and over you’d plunge into yourself till you’d spray all over yourself and the bed sheets.

“How does it taste?” You asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back a grin.

“I think it’s a sweet, smooth consistency, just how I like my pie filling. But maybe you should test it, I’m sure your palate is better than mine.” His eyes darted towards the glass bowl beside you, and without hesitation you dipped your own finger in, then into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed as you took in all the flavors, a habit you developed when you became an at home cook. It’s habitual for you to let out a satisfactory breath when something exquisite hits your taste buds. Richie had been temporarily forgotten about as you slowly slid your index finger from your mouth. He grinned, he had you right where he wanted you, he knew if he got you away from the eyes of the nosy coworkers you'd become a completely different person.

“Good isn’t it.” His voice jolted you out of your train of thought, those beautiful blue eyes of his took you in, something had shifted in you as it did him. The tension was different as you became more aware of his intentions, and more honest with yourself in the fact that you decided to submit to him. You made up your mind that the next move was completely up to him, and you wouldn’t say no. He trapped you between himself and the counter behind you, not trusting yourself with words you nodded your head. “Hm, you got a little bit here.” Richie reached up, his hand gently grabbed your chin, and swiped at a drop of sweet potato filling that dripped to the corner of your lip.

Your gazes locked, your mouth opened wider, and your tongue slipped out to lick his thumb clean. “Fuck…I fucking knew it.” Richie cursed under his breath, he swallowed as you sucked on his thumb, he pulled away only to take your face between his hands, and press his lips to yours. The both of you were caught up in a heated kiss, desperate to have more, your nipples hardening painful as goosebumps prickled your skin. Your hands wrapped around his shoulder holding onto him for dear life as he gripped your hips. When you ran out of breath only then did you separate, that didn’t mean he was done with you, he trailed kisses down to the base of your neck. His lips pressing directly over your pulse, his hands moving down to your peach shaped booty. He alternated hands gripping one cheek with one hand, and slapping the other cheek with his other hand.

“Richie.” You moaned out, not even your food made you feel this good, his hands slid up your back, underneath your Original Beef work shirt, and unhooked your bra. The words you meant to say currently escaped you when he slid your shirt over your head, and threw it onto the floor along with the bra. That beat up piece of shit bra could have ended up in the trash for all you cared for. Then he pulled off his shirt, carelessly tossing it.

“That’s it, talk to me baby, tell me what you want.” He mumbled as his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his unoccupied hand cupped your other breast. His thumb played with your dark brown bud, then he switched, and worked his way back up to your neck.

Your back arched causing your chest to press again his, “please eat my pussy, I need it.” You begged, he didn’t waste time, his hands were already working on the button, and zipper of your jeans. Eagerly you whined not wanting to wait any longer than you were now, Richie undid his own pants, and let them hang off his hips. Carefully he pushed your bowl, and cooking tools out the way, then helped you hop up on the counter.

He hooked his fingers around your panties, and tugged them off. You spread your legs wider, giving him a full view, and putting yourself on display. “Goddamn look at that, hm fuck you’re mine now sweetheart.” His fingers gently pulled your lips apart exposing your clit more, he slid one finger into you with his other hand, and sucked you into his mouth.

“Oh.” You cried, your head immediately fell back, your hand made its way to his head, and gripped his hair. He lapped up every single drop you had to offer him, he finished you off with his thumb relentlessly rubbing circles on your clit, and his tongue delved deep into you. “Just like that daddy, don’t stop, I wanna cum in your mouth.” You were so loud, but you did care, the way you were throbbing there was nothing that could pull the two of you apart. “Just how I imagined it.” You mumbled to yourself, Richie popped his head up, a shit eating grin spread across his face.

He licked your essence from his lips, “oh yea? Did you imagine it like this too?” He pushed two fingers into you as deeply as he could, reflexively you clinched him. Your words were caught in your throat as he watched you, mouth slack jaw, and the curse words written across your face. “Let it out princess, I wanna hear it, tell me how good it feels.” He plunged into you with one hand, and still with the same hand he continued the circular motions on your swollen pink bud. The sound of your juices accumulating sounded more like squishing sounds in your ears, and you hated how patient he was to let the build up happen.

“Goddammit, fuck I’m such a slut.” You breathed heavily, that didn’t alleviate it a fucking thing, slowly you could feel your muscles tightening.

“Yes you are, but you’re a pretty fucking slut. Isn’t that right?” Richie encouraged you, his voice calm, and gentle. “Say it, let me hear you say it.” He demanded, and you were sure if you had the voice for it, but you mustered the strength,

“I’m a pretty fucking slut.” You cried, only enough brain power to remember to breathe through your nose.

“That’s right, say it again, I got you baby, you just make sure you let that shit out.”

“I’m a pretty fucking slut, I’m a pretty fucking slut, I’m– ohh!” At first you were leaking, then you were spraying onto Richie’s stomach, your toes curled, and your mouth agape as your orgasam took over your entire body. As if that wasn’t enough, he took his face and pressed it between your thighs. He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his dick and proceeded to massage himself in his palm. His tongue slipped back into you, he loved the way you felt clenching, and needy to be filled up again. He loved that it was him that made you feel that way. He loved the way your thighs closed around his head, completely enclosing him in your essence.

He tapped your thigh, “let me up baby, I need to be inside that pretty little cunt of yours.” His voice came out muffled, but you understand his words. You giggled, then spread your legs apart, and let Richie up for air.

“We should stay late more often.” You laughed, Richie grabbed you by the waist and helped you off the counter. He rolled his eyes playfully, then turned you around so that your back was to his chest.

“It’s always the quiet ones trynna get me into the most trouble.” He pressed his lips to the shell of your ear, you could feel his dick press against your ass cheek, the precum feeling sticking against your skin. You didn’t deny his accusations, there was always a part of you that always wanted to do risqué things like this, but didn’t think anyone would be down for that. Until you met Richie. “Lift your leg baby, give daddy a good view…fuck just like that.” You leaned over the counter and propped your leg up to give him a clear view of you for the back. “Damn your so thick, look at this ass, so fucking delicious..mm.” He slapped your ass cheek bringing his hand down as hard as possible.

“Shit Rich–fuuuck.” The stinging of your cheek was quickly subsided by the toe curling stretch of his thick penis pushing into you. He wasn’t too big, or small he fit inside you just perfectly.

“Fuck, you take my cock like a good girl.” He grunted out, his thrust started off at a slow steady pace, despite that your knees already felt weak. His other hand reached around and played with your clit rubbing it in an off beat rhythm. You were still so sensitive it didn’t matter, you’d come undone to anything at this point.

You rocked your hips back meeting his thrust half way, “can I cum all over that cock daddy? Please?” You whimpered out, the sound of flesh, slapping, and your cheeks clapping together could be heard through the restaurant. It was 9 pm at night, the streets of Chicago were busy, but not a single soul was privy to the two of you slamming into each other like wild animals. Richie’s heavy breathing sounded more like grownling, and your cries of pleasure sounded more like a prey begging to not be eaten.

“Fucking hell, you don’t even have to ask.” He rushed out, he pounded away, not even thinking how sore you might be tomorrow. All he could think about was how fucking warm you felt, inside and out. All the times you’d wear a denim skirt to work, and he could see the way your thighs rub together as you walked around the restaurant. All he wanted was to be the friction between those thick thighs of yours and he finally got that wish. “Ughhh shit I’m gonna come.” He groaned out, what you said next was just the cherry on top for him.

“Ohh that cock feels so good, fill me up daddy, please.” You moaned, desperate to feel his hot stickiness inside you, his thrust came to an abrupt stop. He buried himself as deeply inside you as he possibly could, and let his milky white cum inside of you. He filled you up with as much of himself as he possibly had to offer, he stayed in you like that for a few moments longer letting you slide back and forth on him.

“Fuck, that’s it baby, milk me just like that…oh fuck.” Richie breathed out, he was still stuck in a bit of a haze, but that didn’t stop him from talking his shit. “This pussy is mine, if I catch anyone else giving you a number I’ll kill him.”

[holylulusworld]

The assistant (11) - Heating pads and cupcakes

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: flirty CEvans characters, language, plus-sized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, arguments, brothers being brothers, fluff, caring brother

A/N: I was on my period while writing this. So, I would like you to please bear with me.

The assistant masterlist

The assistant (10) - Apologies

“Tell me, sugar. How did you meet my brothers?” Ransom sits on one of the chairs at the kitchen counter to watch you, Jake and Mike make breakfast for the hungry pack.

“Do not talk to Y/N,” Jake warns. “I don’t know why Andy even called you. We can handle Captain Asshole on our own.”

“Captain Turd,” Lloyd corrects while walking inside the kitchen. “I think I established the name yesterday.” He grins at Steve who sits at the kitchen table. Steve sips the coffee from the café around the corner and tries to stomach the dry bagel he bought.

“Boys, play nice,” you tut and point the spatula at Lloyd. “We do not fight within these walls. Lloyd, that goes for you too. Have a seat. Coffee is ready and we are almost done preparing breakfast.”

“Uh-huh,” Lloyd plops down on the seat closest to you. “You’re wearing my apron.” He grins.

“Yeah, I figured that this must be yours,” you roll your eyes as he grins like a madman.

“Kiss the cook, he wears a mustache?” Ransom huffs and shakes his head. “That mustache looks stupid on you, Lloyd. Almost as if a caterpillar died on your upper lip.”

“Kiss my ass,” Lloyd snarls in Ransom’s direction.

“Eat shit!” Ransom retorts.

“Guys,” you clap your hands. “We have a busy day ahead. Thanks to the drama you caused yesterday, I agreed to let Captain Rogers stay another day. He didn’t get the chance to see anything but a bunch of idiots fighting each other.”

“Idiots?” Lloyd pouts. “I'm not an idiot. Andy started this. It’s not my fault my brother is an idiot.”

“Lloyd, we do not punch people, and we don’t call them idiots,” you tut. “I told you, no more fighting or I’ll hide your expensive mustache wax for a week. Your mustache will be all fuzzy without it.”

“Cupcake, did you steal my wax?” Lloyd gapes at you. “I didn’t take you for a thief, missy. You better not make it a habit.” He looks at you wearing his apron. “Or make it a habit. I like me a bad girl.”

“She’s got a very good lawyer on her side,” Andy casually walks inside the kitchen. He’s hiding the bruises his brother caused with a brand-new shirt and tie. “I will leave for a few hours. I trust you to not kill each other.”

Lloyd glares at his brother Ransom before he says, “I can’t promise anything. You brought this piece of shit into our house.”

“Lloyd!” He made it. You hand the spatula to Mike, asking him to watch the last pancake to round the kitchen island and slap Lloyd’s ass. He yelps but purrs your name. “No swear words at our home, Lloyd!”

“Our…home!” Jake, Mike, Lloyd, Ari, Andy, and Curtis who just walked inside the kitchen, stare at you in awe. They smile, and then, you end up wrapped in too many pairs of arms.

“GUYS! I can’t breathe!” You protest but it's no use. You get hugged again and again until you feel dizzy.

“Hey, what’s your role in this drama?” Ransom turns around to look at Steve while his brothers are all over you. “Damn, aren’t you Captain America?” He slides off his chair to get a better look at Steve sulk in a corner. “Wait…what is Captain America doing here?”

“They kidnapped my assistant,” Steve grumbles while watching you hug the brothers, one after another. They laugh and joke while exclaiming that you accepted their home as your own.

“Ah, I see,” Ransom nods thoughtfully. “So, you’re unwanted here too, huh?” He grins. “Hmmm…you know. My grandmother always bragged about being related to Captain America. She was a crazy old hag, but I cannot deny you are a spitting image of my grandfather.”

“What are you mumbling about over there?” Curtis didn’t forget about Ransom’s intrusion. He’s still up to give his brother a good beating. “I see, two assholes found each other during desperate times.”

You huff. “Curtis! No swear words! We talked about swear words and impulse control last night.”

“Sorry, Sunshine,” Curtis drops his gaze and sighs. If only he’d got a few minutes alone with Ransom. He’d give his treacherous brother a few more punches.

“I get that having your brother back is scary and opened old wounds. But, you should be happy to have him in your life,” you sniffle. “You don’t get a person you love back so easily.”

“Great, now you made her cry,” Andy wraps you in his arms and runs his hand up and down your back. “They’re stubborn but will behave from now on. I promise.”

“I’m only a little emotional,” you choke out a sob. “I’m on…” You shake your head. The brothers don’t need to know that you’re on your period and almost everything makes you cry. “I saw that cat video…and the cat was so cute and…then you argued... and Mike looked like the lost kitten…It made me so happy…”

“Crap,” Lloyd snaps his fingers to get his brothers' attention. “Alright! Red alert. I repeat. Red alert.”

“What now?” Curtis rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. “What’s wrong with you?”

Lloyd turns his head toward Curtis. “You, stop sulking and get my wallet.” Lloyd snaps at Curtis before pointing at Mike and Jake. “You two, search for any movie on any platform Y/N will like.”

He crosses his arms behind his back and marches around the kitchen. “Barber don’t get too cozy with her but keep on rubbing her back. Ari, you and Curtis will go to the bakery. We will close for the rest of the week. Get all the cupcakes and shit Jake baked. We’ll need it.”

“What’s going on?” Ransom watches his brothers hastily follow Lloyd’s order. “Where’s the fire?”

“In Y/N’s uterus. Now shut up, pretty boy, and be useful for once,” Lloyd mutters at his brother. “If you want to stay, you’ll go to the guestroom in the west wing and get me all the fluffy pillows and a warm blanket. No, make it two.”

Ransom purses his lips. He weighs his options. If he wants to be part of this family again, he must play along for now. “Fine.”

“Y/N. Cupcake,” Lloyd gently pats your hair. “What’s your favorite brand? Do you need a heating pad? What painkiller do you prefer? Lloyd will get you all you’ll need.”

Steve watches the brothers make of fuzz about your period. He rubs his chin, wondering if what he feels is more than worry.

“Good job everyone!”

Lloyd grins as you snuggle into one of the fluffy pillows. You’re wearing one of Andy’s warm sweaters and the fuzzy socks Jake got for you. Ari wrapped a warm blanket around you after Lloyd carefully put a heating pillow on your lower abdomen.

Mike chose the movies you and the brothers will watch while Andy and Jake prepared food, beverages, and sweets. Curtis is currently massaging your feet while Ransom sits on the other end of the huge U-shaped sofa.

“How do you feel,  Sweetie? Do you feel better?” Jake sits next to your head to gently pat your hair. Do you need anything else?”

“Did I buy the right stuff?” Lloyd asks. He sits on the sofa and stretches his legs out. “Damn, I didn’t know there are so many lady products out there.”

“I’m good,” you murmur and snuggle further into the pillow. The brothers took very good care of you. No one ever put so much into making you feel good. “See, if you work together, you can do anything.”

“So…this is what you do? Getting lady products and feeding a sexy girl with cupcakes,” Ransom grins. “I think I could get used to this…”

“No one asked you,” Curtis huffs. He’s still angry at Ransom for leaving them. Especially, because he used to look up Ransom when he was a kid. Curtis and Ransom shared a special bond, and now, it's broken.

“No more fighting tonight,” Andy stops the brothers from arguing again. “We have a plan, don’t we.” He subtly points at Steve watching you and the brothers from his seat. He chose to sit on an armchair, still not convinced that the brothers did not mean harm to you.

Ransom stares at Steve. He rubs his chin and wonders aloud. “Back to Captain America. Isn’t it odd that he looks so much like Grandfather Steven?”

Part 12

Tags in reblog.

[arlertdarling]

hi hi! I love love your writing and congrats on 100 followers, you deserve sm more!! I would like to request a fluffy drabble with Levi Ackerman and the prompt “photograph” in modern au :)

thank you so much! ❤️❤️

hii oh my gosh, you are so lovely, thank you!!🥺 i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this, i hope you enjoy it<3

PHOTOGRAPH

levi x gn!reader, (domestic) fluff, established relationship, modern au

this request is a part of my 100+ follower event; if you’re interested, check out this post!

“don’t,” levi says through a mouthful of food. usually he’d never do something so uncouth, but with your polaroid camera not-so-discreetly angled toward him, he simply couldn’t risk waiting to speak.

you peek over the camera at him. “aw, please–”

“no.”

“but you look so cute when you eat!” you protest, but levi remains unconvinced. you watch him for a few seconds; the way his cheeks swell and his nose twitches every so often. “like a hamster,” you add under your breath and this time it does harbour a reaction — a deep furrow in his eyebrows paired with a glare.

you shake the camera side to side with a grin and the billion-dollar question on your face. levi exhales harshly through his nose in frustration; your persistence is admirable at best, but now — at worst — it’s simply insufferable. “why now, of all times?” he complains. “you could at least wait until i look more presentable.”

you chuckle and lean over to ruffle his hair. he flinches out of reach at the last minute. “that’s the whole point, dummy. they’re called candids.” you place your elbow on the coffee table and rest your chin in your hand. “besides, i think you look perfectly presentable. adorable, even. a work of art, in fact–”

“stop talking,” he mumbles, shielding his face with his hand so you can’t see it — but you know this reaction all too well by now.

“and now you’re flustered so i want to take a photo even more now!” you sigh and drop your arms and head onto the table in defeat. the only sound between you is levi’s chewing and the clatter of utensils against his plate. having finished your own food a while ago — since levi is a slow eater — you just lay there, tracing the patterns of the table wood with a finger as boredom overtakes you.

“fine.”

your head perks up and your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “what did you say?” you heard him perfectly fine; you just needed to be sure.

levi looks you dead in the eyes, but seems to think better of it, and shifts his gaze to someplace else before speaking. “you can take a photo of me, but only because you’re being so annoying about it.”

your eyes widen and your lips quirk up into a giddy smile. “really? like, right now?”

he frowns. “not right now.”

“but the candids–”

“don’t push your luck.”

you put your hands up in surrender, and for a few seconds, levi just stares at you, but then he falters, breaking out into a small smile and slightly turning his head away out of habit.

the flash of your polaroid camera lights up his features, his pale skin glowing. as soon as it fades, those features fall back into their usual position, and then they twist in realisation; parted lips, wide eyes, flared nostrils, and most importantly, that telltale colour that blooms in his cheeks.

“give me that,” he orders, swiping at the camera, but you just snicker behind your hand like a little devil as the photograph prints. you catch it between two fingers and wave it around, taunting your red-faced boyfriend.

“you said i can take a photo, so i took a photo.” you speak innocently, but your smile is knowing and mischievous. “no take-backsies, levi, you know this.”

the scowl is back, full force, but it has no effect on a face so pink. it’s not long before he sighs and finally gives up. the photo finishes developing, revealing a smiling levi; eyes creased, lip corners curled up, head slanted almost bashfully. the sight of it makes you giggle to yourself, which pulls levi’s attention back to you.

“what?”

you already feel your cheeks beginning to hurt from all the smiling. “oh, nothing. it’s just a really good photo.”

levi scoffs. “no, it’s not.”

you laugh, perplexed. “you haven’t even seen it?”

“i don’t need to,” he grumbles, playing with the remains of the food on his plate.

you tilt your head to try and see his downcast face. “are you mad at me?”

the absence of an answer is an answer in and of itself. you sigh and look back at the photograph. “at least mini polaroid levi isn’t mad at me.”

you feel levi’s eyes on you and look up, meeting his judgmental stare. “you...” he can’t seem to find the words he wants to say, his face all screwed up in a look of faux-disgust. “you’re...”

“the funniest person in the world?”

levi glares at you. “an idiot.”

“yeah but i’m your idiot,” you say, pretending to tuck some hair behind your ear.

levi stands up. “not anymore, i resign.”

“you can’t do that actually,” you argue.

he collects your empty plate and stacks it on top of his with a smirk. “i just did.” then he stands up with the plates and walks out of the room, leaving you a little dumbfounded as you sit there on your living room floor. “i resign too then!” you call after him, but you get no response, just a soft chuckle echoing from the kitchen.

[goldfish-afterhours]

Genshin Characters During Finals Season (College AU)

Characters: Zhongli, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Albedo, Bennett, Childe, Kaeya

Type/Genre: Bulleted headcanons, comedy

Warnings: Foul language, slightly suggestive humour/for comedic purposes

Zhongli

Calm and collected at first

As the days go by, Zhongli would start looking more and more like a tired dad

Walks around slightly frowning, bags under his eyes from all nighters, and clutching a mug of coffee so hard that people are afraid it’s gonna break, but even more afraid to tell him to be careful

Has heat compresses on the back of his neck and forehead to ease the headaches from the lack of sleep

Probably told Childe to shut the fuck up and mind your own business when he warned him about his cup

“Childe, if I do not kill this final I will kill you in its stead. Leave me be.”

Thoma

Probably part of one of those student care organizations that makes care packages for other students

His smile when he hands out the packages is so bright and healing it could bring back the dead

Always motivating his peers and tries to keep everyone’s spirits up

Offers to get everyone in the study group coffee

He’s not the best at school but he has a lot of friends that are willing to tutor him and do his assignments help him with his work

Likes to snack while he’s studying

“No giving up yet! Let’s take a snack break, you’ll think better with something in your belly.”

Venti

Chills at a coffee shop with a big friend group to “study”

They do jack shit

Probably spends more time staring at the drink menu than his exam notes

Grade A procrastinator, does all his homework the night before it’s due and studies for exams the morning of

Due tomorrow do tomorrow amiright

Always seems to do okay tho?? People wanna scold him for his bad study habits but he actually does okay in school so they can’t really say anything

Doesn’t study hard but parties 100x harder

“Come on, live a little! If your exam is at 2pm, you can just start studying at 9 tomorrow morning and you’ll be fine.”

Xiao

Pulls all nighter after all nighter after all nighter after all nighter after-

No one can ever find him during the day on campus or in his dorm—it’s like he despawned and just does not exist

Only time he is spotted by others is always at 3am in the morning like a cryptid and he looks like a zombie

He’s actually working a part time job along with going to classes and helping others with their work. An angry looking good boy.

Studies in the lecture halls by himself, blasting music as loud as he can on his headphones to keep himself awake

Mf going to go deaf is2g lower ur volume boi

“…hey. I’m getting a coffee, do you want one?”

Albedo

Plans his time meticulously. Has an extremely organized planner where he writes out exactly what he’s going to do at every hour of the day so he can maximize his week

Includes mealtimes, breaks, and poop times relaxation periods

Usually studies in his room, but for some reason people keep barging in on him to ask for study help so he has to find different hiding places to work in peace

So far, the best place has been the graduate students lounge. No he does not belong there, but no one questions him because it looks like he does

“If you really need my help, I have twenty seven and a half minutes between lunch and my bathroom break this Thursday. Come find me then.”

(Rejected quote: “What’s my masters in? No no, the only thing I’m a master of is your mom.”)

Bennett

The type of person to have the “please don’t talk to me I have work to do and if you talk to me I won’t stop” sign on his back while working in the library

Fell asleep while completing an assignment

Missed the midnight deadline for said assignment

Slept through the exam the next morning

At this point just let him sleep at least he won’t have to deal with it then

“That was a good nap…now I got the energy for my assignment and the exam!”

Childe

Would be a good student if he wasn’t bothering other people so often

Probably bakes when he’s stressed. His roommates are always awoken at 4 in the morning to the sound of the oven beeping and the heavenly smell of freshly baked cookies

Has a friendly rivalry with Zhongli. He always asks when Zhongli will be turning in an assignment, and what mark he’s aiming for for the final exam

Turns in the final paper at least a week before it’s due and aims for ten percent higher than Zhongli on the exam

If he needs bonus marks to reach that then so be it

Otherwise slacks off a bit

He’d be a really good student if he wasn’t so competitive with Zhongli all the time

“You good, Zhongles? You trying to squeeze a better grade out of that mug?”

Kaeya

This man probably used red bull as the liquid for his instant coffee

An absolute menace and loves messing with people

Tells them that the exam is on a whole other different thing than what they were studying for, or that the due date of a big assignment was changed

Nobody goes to him for help

If you do genuinely need help with a concept, though, he’s more than willing to help

Just make sure to provide adequate compensation for him ;)

By compensation I mean more red bull this man has drank 3 cans in ten minutes please stop him

“What? If they do shit, that only helps with our bellcurve, right? Their fault for trusting me anyways~”

[grizzersmamma]

Coffee Cups | College AU | Nikto x F!Reader

Short snippet fic based on the college AU from @ghouljams. I needed to feed the brain worms something and I'm gonna make it everyone else's problem. Unedited at the moment because I'm writing and posting on the fly.

You spot Nikto on his way to his first class of the morning, hurrying along the walkway with little regard for those around him. He doesn’t notice you at first, not until you flag him down with a slightly harried flailing of one of your arms. He slows his stride enough for you to catch up but doesn’t come to a complete stop.  

“Morning, Nikto!” You chirp, arranging your bags in one hand while stabilizing the tray of drinks in your other, ensuring nothing spills.  

“Привет, Рыбка,” he greets, watching in concern as one of the hot drinks very nearly topples over. Before it can end up falling on you, he reaches out a hand to snatch up one of the cups. You’ve gotten into the habit of getting coffee for the both of you before class, and so he goes to take a sip of the drink he’s grabbed. He hesitates, however, when he sees the branding on the front of the cardboard cup.  

You see his nose flare slightly and his face screw up in disgust, “you would poison me with this?” he demands, quickly giving the drink back to you with a look of genuine horror. He’s a tad overdramatic but you’ve learnt how to tell when he’s being serious and when he’s just being a bit of a drama queen. Anyone else on campus would’ve been searching for the nearest exit if he’d said that to him, but you just roll your eyes.  

“That’s one’s for Love, I’ve got your coffee here,” you assure him, pulling out one of the other cups and handing it to him, “a long black with an extra shot of espresso from the coffee shop in town.” You practically have his normal order memorised at this point, knowing exactly how scalding hot he prefers it.  

He takes the offered drink and immediately takes a swig from it – you're not sure how he can handle a coffee near enough still boiling – and sighs in complete bliss, “Спасибо от всего сердца и души.” You have no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds somewhat like some form of thanks.  

“You’re welcome,” you hum back, rearranging the drinks in your hands so that they’re correctly balanced in the tray.  

He takes another sip before continuing, “how these Americans can call that, that... foul, excessively sweet, substance ‘coffee’, is an insult!”  

You’ve heard this particular rant many times previously and simply nod along while he hisses and spits about how inferior American coffee is compared to other parts of the world. You sip at your own coffee and offer the occasional agreeable hum when expected. “You have first years straight up this morning, yeah? How are they going?” you ask when Nikto pauses his tirade to breathe.  

He doesn’t even need to think about the question, offering you a confirming nod, “yes, they are...” he mulls over his response for a moment, “acceptable.”  

It’s practically high praise for Nikto to consider a fresh batch of students ‘okay’ or ‘acceptable’ so early in the year. You hope for their sakes they’re able to maintain it since your best friend isn’t exactly the most forgiving when it comes to falling below his high standards.  

You reach the door to your department far too soon for your liking, but with any luck you’ll be able to catch up again during the day if your lunch breaks line up. You wave him goodbye and wish him luck with his classes but miss how he hesitates to leave after you close the door behind you.  

Perhaps one day he’ll muster up the courage to take you to that coffee shop as more than just a good friend.  

- 

Translations 

“Привет, Рыбка,” - Hello, Rybka (little fish – an affectionate term for a woman) 

“Спасибо от всего сердца и души.” - Thank you from the bottom of my heart and soul (can be said formally or informally)

[roboticprince100]

Saturation - The Real Key to Manifestation

Unless the mind is saturated enough for the desires that could radically change your life, you won't really manifest them. I have tried and experimented with many desires, small and big, important and unimportant, desires just bugging my mind to test the Law, etc. After all my personal experiences, I can confidently say that saturation is the only missing ingredient in your life.

You can call this the law of practice, repetition, robotically affirming, writing affirmations, scripting, continuously imagining, visualizing, whatever your technique is, but in the end everything is resulting in Saturation. Because that is the key ingredient of manifestation. Unless you are saturated enough, how can you be confident enough of getting your desire? If you can't automatically control your reactions, fears and worries, if you can't instantly think about your desire, if you don't even know with 100% certainty what you want, how the hell are you going to get it? Make sure you repeat your technique so many times that after a point, you don't desire anything. This feeling of not desiring comes only after saturation, which is also called the process of letting go and detachment.

Now some of you might have the question regarding instant manifestations and manifesting fleeting thoughts. This happens only because you don't care about them at all. Even if fleeting thoughts regarding an object or a person don't manifest, you don't feel bad. Because you never wanted them in the first place. They don't have a huge impact on your life. So they don't need saturation or any kind of repetition. Even if they do manifest, your mind won't fully believe. It will hop on to something else and ask you to manifest it, to check the Law again and this loop will never end. I hope this is clear in your mind.

What I am talking about is a big desire. Manifesting a cup of coffee won't change your life incredibly, but manifesting 10 million dollars, for sure, will. And this requires insane amounts of saturation. Because your beliefs regarding wealth and money obstruct your own desires. Breaking these limiting beliefs, forming new beliefs and sustaining them takes time, patience and repetition. You need to nurture your new beliefs by robotically affirming, writing your affirmations, scripting, imagining, visualizing, focusing on what you want irrespective of your circumstances.

People test the Law by manifesting small stuff, that's great. At least you have faith that this thing is not fake or a scam. It is absolutely real. My question is why not test it with a big desire? Tell me honestly will you ever doubt the Law if you are able to manifest 10 million dollars out of thin air? No. You will not need any proof, any explanation after that. And guess what will happen then? Your self-concept regarding wealth and money would be so strong that going from 10 to 100 million won't be difficult, going to 500 or a billion from there would also become possible in your mind and you would be like this stuff is crazy. So make sure you do the work now and get that strong self-concept, self-belief and 100% faith. Do not give up no matter what.

Never stop taking action, never stop disciplining yourself, never stop becoming better than yesterday, never stop creating new good habits, never ever doubt your own capabilities. Saturate your mind every single day, persist every single day, practise being calm and relaxed even when the 3D is going bonkers, accept everything and always bless everyone. Good luck!

[virginburial]

hi! could i request something with ethan x fem!reader (or gn, whichever makes you the most comfortable :)) where reader is this really like, wealthy kid at blackmore who’s part of the core four (but since she’s in it… maybe fab five? idk 😭 i suck at this) and she’s dating ethan and just loves to spoil him? i’m assuming he’s like a broke college student, and the whole group kinda jokes that’s she’s his sugar mommy lmao. if you’re not up for it, feel free to ignore this request! i love your work <3 can’t wait to read more of your writing, thank you so so much for sharing it with us!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I so clearly saw Gossip Girl in my head I'm dead x-x but let me break down why this would absolutely work on Ethan

Ethan Landry CD mix!       .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

especially since I'm getting an old money-great Gatsby feel out of it, your family probably owns a company that's been around for generations, one of those Rockefeller/Vanderbilt types. the kind of family HBO writes hit dramas about. You weren't snobby about it but still carried yourself differently than all your peers (you knew you were hot shit). So when regular-schmegular middle-class suburban boy next door Ethan catches your eye, it is a shock to everyone, especially him.

Ethan barely had a job and was living off of loans, like everyone else. you noticed this when he nervously asked you out to Olive Garden and ate nothing but the free breadsticks and some soda. you felt bad; you could tell he wanted to impress you.

so you started bringing him coffee every time you walk to class together; "I can't hold your books and the coffee y/n-" "-just take the fucking latte, Ethan!" he was too humble to take your offerings, but soon, as your romantic relationship with him evolved, so did his acceptingness and gratitude. You two would go to the mall and whatever Ethan stared at for more than five seconds would be coming home with you. other times, you'd door-dash him food whenever he studied for hours on end, because you knew Ethan had the habit of focusing too much on his studies and forgetting to eat.

"dude! she's totally your sugar mommy." Chad would tease, or Mindy and Anika would comment about asking you for permission before he does anything; "Don't you need your momma's blessing before you do that?" It's a little annoying, but Ethan knows the truth; you loved to spoil him, and he loved being spoiled by you. you loved seeing how excited he gets over a pair of sneakers or some dinner, and he loved knowing that the person he loves thinks about him and what he liked. you're abundant, and you felt it was important to share that abundance with the ones you loved. speaking of, your relationship with Ethan reached a point where he was offered an internship within your family's business; which lead to the both of you heading back to the mall, helping Ethan pick which suit he should wear to the interview.

and, of course, Ethan is on his knees, eating you out in the dressing room because he is just so grateful. getting stains all over his button-up as your juices drip down his chin and run down his neck. whatever, you were going to buy it for him anyways.

       .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა