#to say that NOT wanting your books to get worn means that you don't really care about reading?? what?

[themoonking]

im all for making fun of and criticizing the way booktok (and booktube) aestheticize reading to an insane degree, making it more about being percieved as a reader more than like. actually reading. but some people on here lump the most normal things ever into the booktok consumerism pile?

like yes, booktok/tube places a lot of emphasis on the visuals of "reading", but then someone on here just went and said that simply "not wanting to damage your books" is a stupid booktok thing??? what? it's not vain or pretentious to care about your posessions, especially if they mean a lot to you. simply wanting your books to remain in good condition is not the same as having 100 unread books, or five editions of the same book, or books you hated, purely because they look nice.

and someone else said that having a yearly reading goal was also a stupid booktok/tube thing? since when? i've met people who set themselves yearly reading goals before youtube even existed. it's literally just a new years resolution, but tailored to a specific hobby?

[pomefioredove]

only one bed room

summary: it's the sdc and everyone's staying over at ramshackle but, oh no! you're one room and one bed short. being the generous (or gullible) soul that you are, you agree to share characters: all sdc competitors, separate additional info: fair warning I have no replayed book 5 in a while, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, rook is rook, most scenarios end in cuddles. can be interpreted as romantic or platonic (nix vil and rook's part)

Deuce Spade

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor!"

it's a big fat no from Vil. waking up sore and tired is unacceptable, and will affect his performance during practice. he will use the bed, end of story.

you offer to take the floor or one of the many stiff and uncomfortable couches in Ramshackle, but he refuses

what kind of aspiring honor student would he be if he kicked you out of your own room?

so, yes, you end up sharing the bed

he's a perfect gentleman about it

he insists on sleeping on the complete opposite end of the bed

to give you your space, of course

not because he's nervous

obviously it doesn't pan out- he's kind of a messy sleeper, and on the first night you wake up with him sprawled on top of you

you decide not to wake him up

you'd been thinking about saving for a weighted blanket, anyway

Ace Trappola

"you better not hog the blankets,"

takes it like a champ, though he might be screaming internally

he already sleeps in a dorm with three other guys- this can't be any different, right?

it totally is

sharing a bed with someone? someone he likes, who he isn't just forced to live with for convenience?

he's not sure how to tease you about this one without coming off as nervous himself

so he just shuts his trap about it (for once) and accepts his fate

in the end, it's no big deal for a player like him

he ends up hogging the blankets, though. hypocrite.

Kalim al-Asim

"YAYYY SLEEPOVER!"

he means exactly what he says

not a care in the world

all he's thinking about is how fun this is going to be! just him and his favorite Ramshackle prefect (Grim heard the news and will be staying in deuce's room to avoid any cracker mishaps)

Kalim, admittedly, is not a creature of great thought. he tends to be dictated by his feelings, and he can be a little selfish sometimes

so when Jamil pulled him aside and asked him to just buy another bed for ramshackle, he ignored him entirely

why would he do that? the situation is resolved, and everyone's happy!

well... not everyone, but Kalim's happy!

he stocks up on Vil-approved snacks, insists you two braid each other's hair and stay up late into the night talking with no one to remind you to go to sleep

(he tried to invite Jamil and got the door slammed in his face)

this arrangement lasts approximately one night

when Vil sees the dark circles under your eyes, it's over

you are confined to the couch, and Kalim is forced to sleep alone

Jamil Viper

"okay,"

really. he's totally fine with it.

besides the fact that he doesn't want to cause any more trouble, he's shared beds with his siblings before. no big deal

he just wasn't expecting to wake up with you snuggled against him

but this is fine

totally fine

he's barely conscious and it's early morning, still dark, the time he's used to getting up at

Vil has things covered, right? he can stay here for a little while longer. it would be awkward trying to get up without waking you

it feels nice having something all to himself for once

he smirks, imagining how jealous everyone else would be:

the beautiful, kind, intelligent ramshackle prefect in his arms? oh, the looks on their faces would almost make this whole thing worth it!

but in the end, he decides to say nothing

he wants to keep you all to himself, after all

for just a little while longer

Epel Felmier

"ain't no way I'm sharing!"

that's what he says in his head, anyway. but it's late and he's worn out from practice (and being shouted at) so he just sighs and accepts his fate

of course Vil would make him do it. it's probably because he's the smallest, isn't it?

you can tell he's unhappy with the arrangement (not that he's making much of a secret of it- he's grumbling under his breath all evening)

he starts coming around to the idea when he wakes up holding something warm

his heart jumpstarts and he nearly panics before remembering where he is

and then he realizes the thing he's holding is... you. somehow the two of you had ended up spooning during the night

but, more importantly... he's the big spoon!

he's almost tempted to wake you to announce that he, in all his manly glory, had naturally assumed the most masculine cuddling position!

(yes he sounds ridiculous. just let him have this one)

he lets you sleep, though. just a little more won't hurt anyone, right?

he's okay with the arrangement after that

Rook Hunt

"I will do it!"

Vil isn't even able to finish his sentence before the vice housewarden is practically jumping up and down

pretty much everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief; a volunteer! thank the sevens. otherwise, this could get awkward...

of course, he quite intentionally ends up with you in his arms

but not for any nefarious purpose, he insists!

he's a light sleeper, and can be stirred by any sudden noise or movement

you appeared to be having some kind of nightmare

it reminds him of a small animal caught in a trap, struggling for its life. he can't bear to see it- it's cruel to let a poor creature go on suffering before you can make the kill

of course, instead of killing you (thank the sevens), he decides to comfort you

he presses your head against his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, and he runs his fingers through your hair until you calm down.

then he keeps you there, just to be sure you don't have another bad dream

if you gave him permission, he would gladly be all over you in seconds. kissing up and down your shoulders, caressing every perfect inch of your body, whispering words of admiration

but he's perfectly content just cradling you for now

hopefully, you will continue to have these nightmares and give him excuses to do this again

Vil Schoenheit

"don't argue with me,"

initially, you just gave him the bed

maybe you were afraid of him; maybe you like him; maybe you just wanted to avoid a conflict altogether

either way, you spent the first night on the terribly uncomfortable floor, and trudged through Ramshackle like a zombie the next morning

Vil was feeling guilty watching you

what? he's not a monster

and he's a leader, which means he has a responsibility. and you had so graciously invited them all into your home...

fine! he'll share. he insists, even

when you try to argue, he shuts you down, repeating all that stuff about responsibility and hospitality, blah blah

and he doesn't want the team manager dead on their feet

arguing with him is pointless, so you just agree

he wakes up with you against him, sleeping peacefully

now, if it were you clinging to him- he might have had a good chuckle. can't keep your hands to yourself, prefect? I'm just that irresistible?

but the way he's holding you, the way his arms are so tightly wrapped around your waist, the way he's so clearly pressing you against him...

he hates to admit it, but you're an elegant sleeper. it's almost cute

the tension is relieved from your face, your breathing graceful and steady, and your perfect lips open just a sliver...

he is a perfect gentleman, and would never dream of doing anything without your explicit permission, but for one shameful second he thinks about how easy it would be to kiss you

... and then he quickly puts those thoughts aside and tries to get back to sleep

he doesn't want any dark circles, after all

[postracehair]

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

__

You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

__

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.

[luminiamore]

SWEET.

sugar daddy nanami kento x black hyperfem reader

warnings: brat tamer nami, super duper big arms actually, spoiled reader, he’s a bit mean, he’s such a man omg, public sex, squirting, creampie, you'll almost get caught, mirror sex

masterlist

“Excuse me, Sir? Is this seat taken?”

A sweet voice interrupts Nanami’s focus on the book in his lap, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. The train's movements cause his body to sway slightly. He holds in a breath, really not in the mood to speak, but he's a gentleman. So, he looks up anyway.

He doesn't feel disappointed, actually the opposite. He's never seen anyone as beautiful as you. Your brown skin is smooth and clear, and your lips are glossed and full, with a slight pout. The makeup you put on was such a compliment to your face that it made you look like.. a doll. With eyes that made him seem like your salvation, you stared down at him.

Where did you come from?

“I’m sorry to bother you! It’s just- I’ve been trying to find a seat for a few minutes, and my feet are starting to really hurt. God, I should’ve never worn heels.”

You’re talking to him. He quickly comes to the realization that staring at your moving lips would make him appear creepy. Your voice was a little.. distracting. He clears his throat as he catches his lips quip up in amusement,

“It’s not taken. Please, sit.” You're walking towards the seat near the window, following his hips as they adjust to allow you to pass in front of him. Your clothes were... to say it bluntly, provocative. Your skirt was pink. He found that cute. But it was short, way too short to be worn out in public.

As you leaned down to prevent hitting the overhead storage area, his eyes caught the fat brown pussy lips poking out from the sides of your panties. Who the fuck let you go out like that?

You were wearing a strapless top that was also pink. The word 'BRAT,' which was printed in a bold white color, caught his attention. Hm, is that so?

You sit down, and now the blond man is hyper-fixating on your plush thighs pressing next to his. He’s interrupted by your sweet voice again, “Thank you, Sir. You’re too kind!”

He attempts to offer a smile, but he observes that your face is already buried in your phone, and your medium-length French tip nails echo a tapping sound. Well, now that won’t do. He wants your eyes on him again, your attention on him again. So he decides to speak,

“You headed somewhere important?” He acknowledges that this isn't the most ideal thing to ask a beautiful lady, especially during a train ride. His thoughts were running wild, and he was desperately trying to come up with something to say to you. He hopes you don't overthink it, but you look like the ditzy type.

You stop your typing and look up with your mind in thought, “Hmm, not really,” Your eyes turn to him and his cock twitches.

“I’m just going to meet up with some friends at the mall. The amount of walking I’m about to do is going to kill me but I can’t really do nothing since my car’s in the shop.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Nanami observes that you have no filter or awareness that you may be talking too much. Either that, or you're so self-confident that you don't care. Regardless of what it is, he discovers that it is something he enjoys. He has the opportunity to ask more questions and hear your voice in his ears for just a moment longer.

You sit up straight, and now... Your body is facing him. And now he can see the nipple piercings that are pressing through your top. Nanami grits his teeth and forces his eyes to look at your wide ones.

Were you doing this on purpose? You have to be, but when he looks into your eyes, he finds no evidence of any alternate motives. That, or you were good at being coy.

“Well, somebody crashed into it when it was parked. And it was so bad, there was a weird creaking sound every time I drove! So now it’s in the shop, and it’s staying there.” You’re pouting again. And Nanami finds that he doesn’t like that hopeless look on your face. He has a burning desire to fix it, to alleviate any problems you're facing.

His voice grows soft and tender as he gazes into you, “It’s staying there?”

“I haven’t paid for the fix yet. So, the mechanic guy won’t give it t’me.” You shift in your seat. As you browse through your photos, he watches as you click on a picture of a pink Mercedes with its rear end completely broken. The color didn't catch him by surprise; in fact, he was more amused than anything.

“I see. Is there a reason you haven’t paid yet?”

Your brows furrow, and your head drops slightly as a sign of embarrassment. He thinks you're so cute. Nanami wonders if you have a job. You don’t look like the type to raise your perfectly manicured nails, and if you were his, he would never let you.

“Well... I’m in between jobs right now. My daddy won’t lend me any more money, and he told me yesterday, ‘You spend too much, and I can’t keep paying for your expensive shit.’”

Your bubbly, soft tone gets higher in pitch as you try to imitate your father's voice. You pivot and grasp Nanami's massive bicep through his blue dress shirt with your fingers. You notice a slight flush of your cheeks as you shift your eyes to where you grabbed it. He's so big that both your hands can barely wrap around the entirety of it.

Your eyes look up at him, “And y’know I get it! But ever since he got his new girlfriend, she’s been telling him these things. He never felt this way before!”

Your hand is covered by his, his veiny and large hand. You seemed really shaken up by this, and he can’t stand it. Someone as beautiful and perfect as you should not have to suffer like that. He wants to make your life easier; he wants you not to be bothered by such trivial matters.

As one hand raises your chin, his finger softly moves back and forth. His warmth makes the hairs on your skin prickle. “I’m very sorry about that, sweetheart. Would paying for your fix make you feel better? I can get a car to take you to your friends as well.”

You gasp and immediately shake your head, “Oh no, sir! I couldn’t ask you to do that. I-I mean, you’re a strang-”

“Kento, my name is Kento. And don’t be silly. I have more than enough to spend.”

“But-”

“No buts, sweetheart. I just met you, but I don’t like seeing a frown on that pretty face. Let me take care of your troubles the best I can.”

That day, you left the train with his number, and he left with your name. His generosity didn't end there. Kento started paying for a lot of your stuff, and eventually, he sent you money every day, making it such a habit that he just gave you one of his black cards. He would only ask for your company as compensation. There's nothing sexual about this, in fact.

Kento would go above and beyond to spend time with you, even leaving his job in the middle of the day to care for you. During your shopping sprees, he would hold your bags while you ramble about your week as you walked into another store. When you came to him crying about your dad's girlfriend not giving you a break, he decided to buy you your own apartment. It goes without saying that he pays for both your rent and all of your utilities. He would take you out for dinner and treat you to the finest high-end places because he knows that's what you deserve. The finest, and only the finest.

Nanami takes pride in the amount of self-control he has. Almost nothing gets under his skin.. but you. You and the short skirts you wear. You and your tight outfits. You and the way you bend down in front of him, exposing your pink lace panties. He tries to keep his eyes away, but he sometimes feels as if you're doing this on purpose. You must be.

And the truth is, you were. Nanami was the most attractive man you ever had the pleasure of seeing. Not only that, but his company has become something you've come to love. Ever since you met him on that crowded train, you've had lewd thoughts about him. Thoughts of him feigning a sex attack, thoughts of him bending you over and drilling his cock into you. You wanted him so badly, but he refused to do anything with you. It was making you crazy.

But you didn't know how to directly say that you want him to fuck your brains out. You opted for giving him hints, bending over in front of him, brushing against his thighs. Once, you managed to sit on his lap while he cooked you dinner at his home. He never moved, never did anything except keep his hands on your hips. That was enough to make you wet.

On a Tuesday afternoon at Japan's biggest mall, Nanami reached his limit. Your mini white heels were clacking on the tile floor as you entered the Victoria's Secret store, looking for the newest Valentine's Day set. This isn't his first time going shopping with you for lingerie, so he's not bothered in the slightest. Picking up the set and asking him to judge how it looks on you is what surprises him. You've never done that before.

“Please Nami, I have a date tomorrow and I’m hoping I can show him!”

A date? What the fuck do you have a date for?

The situation confuses Nanami. Antsy. Annoyed. He has a sense of jealousy. He can tell. You were his. Only his. You don't need a sluggish, limp-dick man who probably couldn't find your g-spot spot. You needed a man. You needed him. What advantage does your date have over him? What can your date do that he doesn't currently do for you? Are you insane?

He is unaware that you don't actually have a date. You were lying and trying to get him to react once more. You are the epitome of a brat. Kento doesn’t like brats. He breaks them.

You flick your pretty eyelashes at the 6'4 man who stares down at you with an unamused expression on his face. You’re pouting again, and Nanami really hates that he says yes to you. When you look at him like that, he can't say no. It's so hard to say no, but he's tired. Tired of the way you rile him up, he's sure that you're just hoping for a reaction from him. He has to put an end to this.

“..Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You're too occupied with other sets to notice that his voice becomes deeper when he speaks.

Nanami doesn't go into the dressing room with you. He planned to wait on the small, bright pink benches outside. Your angelic voice called out to him to help you with the zipper on a corset, ruining his plan. He loves helping you. It actually makes his day when he makes yours easier in any way. So, he agrees.

His breath hitsched when he pulls back the curtain. Oh fuck. You were... In red panties, the stockings lie softly on your thighs. While staring in the mirror, your brown skin is visible to him, and the corset is loosely hanging off your shoulders. You are a sight to behold—a sight of beauty, delight, and sweetness.

He creeps up on you slowly as though he doesn't want to frighten you. The moment he pulls both ends of the top together, you release a cute gasp. The zipper's faint sound as it rises makes you shiver when his hands brush against you. Once he's finished, his hands rest on your waist, your warmth radiating onto him. His voice, grave and breathless, causes you to catch your breath when he speaks,

“This is what y’re wearing? For your.. date?”

You hum and turn your body side to side to look at how the set fits on you.

“Uhuh! Y’think he’ll like it?” He tilts his head and observes your ass moving slightly with every move you make.

“Hm. What reaction do you suppose you’ll get out him?”

His fingertips can be felt on the panty line as he plays with it and pulls the band. You leap when it snaps itself back to your skin. His other hand is reaching in front of you and grazing your pussy

“Something like this?” The lace that clings to your pussy is grasped by his big hand, and you let out a pathetic whimper at the sight of it. You’re dripping. It wasn't your stupid date that caused this, it was all because of him. You succumb to his grip, and, of course, he steadies you.

“K-Ken?” Your voice squeaks out.

He pays no attention to you and only looks at the slick on his fingers when he moves away from your cunt. You're seeing all this through the mirror, watching his every move. Despite having dreamed about this moment every night, you still feel a little nervous. His expression in the mirror seems... upset.

“Y’know, sweetheart, I am tired.” His hands slowly take the panties off of you, allowing them to fall to your heels on the floor.

“Tired of how you tease me.”

He spreads your folds out from under you, letting the moisture drip all over his palm as he slides up and down. He groans when you emit the most adorable moan right next to his ear. God, you were so precious. He wanted you all to himself.

He scoffs, “A date. The hell do you need a date for? Y’need someone to fuck you, is that it? Someone to teach you some manners?” He slid his two thick fingers into your wet mound, scolding you when you let out a dirty mewl.

“Quiet sweetheart, bad girls don’t get to make a sound.”

He pushes them in deeper, immediately finding your spongy, and presses into it repeatedly. You tremble in his arms, pressing your hands to muffle your moans.

He murmurs to you, battling against the squelching noise your pussy is making. Your knees are buckling, but there's another hand pressing on your stomach to keep you upright and amplify the pressure you're feeling in your stomach. “I treat you so good. I buy you whatever you want, I make sure you’re always eating good. And yet you still insist on being a brat.”

He seethes in your ear, watching your pretty eyes roll back in the mirror. Kento feels that your loudness is causing you to forget you're in public. At this point, he doesn't care much. Throughout all of this, Kento is pulling down his zipper, freeing his hard dick from his boxers.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m gonna fuck you. Gonna fuck you so hard you forget all about that stupid date.” He stops finger-fucking you and leaves your sopping cunt suddenly, causing you to whimper at the loss.

Without warning, he plunges his fat cock deep into you and immediately presses his hand on your mouth to stop you from screaming. Your body falls back against him, leaving you drooling against his palm. It was too much, but you loved it. Had you known it would result in this, you would have done this a long time ago. Your body felt stuffed as he sucked his length in and out of you, observing how your pussy creams every time it disappeared inside.

Kento thinks you're perfect. Every aspect of your being is perfect. The way you squeezed around him almost made him forget that this was your punishment. Shit, you felt so good that he doesn't even want to carry on with the punishment anymore.

“There you go, sweetheart. Shh, just take it.”

You whine against his palm, your eyes barely open as this man is practically splitting you in half. You were both pouring your juices onto the floor, creating a small puddle below you. “Fuck. Such a messy girl.”

Your haze and pleasure make it impossible for you to hear footsteps coming near you and Kento. But he did, and he figures... It's a good idea to torment you a bit. So he speeds up his pace, letting the music drown out the light papping sound his thrusts and balls are making on your clit. If it's even possible.

“Miss? Is everything alright? D’you need any help?”

Your surprise is evident when your mind recognizes the voice of one of the employees. Fuck. No.

Nanami whispers into your ear, low enough for only you to hear, “Better answer her, sweet girl. Wouldn’t want her to suspect anything, hm?”

He’s so mean. Speaking is not an option when he's drilling into you like a madman. Fuck, could the poor lady even hear the noise? You're shaking, and you really can't help the yelp you let out every time his cock gets buried so deep inside of you. You rapidly nod against his hand, desperately attempting to do anything for him to keep fucking you like this. His hand slowly descends from your lips and grasps your covered tits in the corset, never once halting his pace inside you.

“Miss?” She speaks again, and you answer quickly so she can leave,

“I-I’m okay! Still- Ah! t-trying the s-set on.”

Nanami thinks you’re so cute as you try to keep your voice steady, chuckling to himself when you moan out in between your words. He thinks it's unfortunate when you're forced to speak again due to the lady's persistent pestering.

“..Are you sure? You don’t sound-”

“Yes! E-Everything’s f-fine, I’ll be r-right out!” You cut her off, your mind still reeling from the strong blows that Nanami never ceases to give you.

You faintly hear her muttering an 'Okay' before her heels recede into the crowded store. In all honesty, you believe you're starting to hear colors now. He was fucking you so good, and when you feel that familiar fire pit burning in your lower abdomen, you know what's coming. Or, in this case, who’s coming. You.

Nanami knows it, too, because your cunt just squeezed twice as hard on him. It’s practically pulsing open and close. You’re trying to fucking milk him.

“Good job, sweetheart. Y’gonna be my good girl from now on?” His hand doesn't even bother to cover your mouth anymore. Instead, his fingers reach down to your pulsating clit and start rubbing in tight circles. You forcefully bite your lip to prevent screaming out, savoring the metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

Nanami knows that if you let go of your lips right now, you're going to attract attention. He doesn't want that type of distraction at the moment, so he's not too upset about your quick nod as a response. He doesn't even think you know what he's saying, too drunk from the sensation of his cock to think about anything else other than that. Even so, you're saying yes. You, indeed, are perfect.

“Think you deserve to cum? I think you do, you were so good earlier talking to that lady. So cum, sweetheart. Make a mess f’me, yeah?”

That you definitely heard. It seems your pussy did, too, because she doesn't hesitate to squirt all over the floor. The mirror was being sprayed with your overflowing juices. Throughout it all, he was intensely watching you through the mirror, observing the face you make when you cum. It was so beautiful. The way your brows scrunch, and your eyes roll back, almost into your skull. The sight was enough for him to conceal his groans in your silk press, cumming so deeply inside of you that you thought it reached your womb.

Heavy breathing was all that could be heard under the faint music buzzing through the speakers. As Nanami slips out of you, you let out a whimper and gaze into the now-wet mirror, watching as he crouches down to where both he and your fluids are dripping out of you. You hear him mutter a curse under his breath, shivering when he runs his finger through your slightly gaping cum stuffed hole.

He lifts his finger, slipping it into his mouth to taste the aftermath of your.. lovemaking. He can detect some of your juices and his own. He only utters one word when he releases his finger with a pop,

“Sweet.”

He rises, gathers your clothes, and pockets the panties you wore when you initially came into the store. He believes that letting you confront people with his cum dripping down your thighs is an appropriate punishment. He pauses when he recalls something, “That date of yours tomorrow? Cancel it.”

Oh right! You didn't let him know that there wasn't a date.

“Kento?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“…I lied about having a date.”

Nanami freezes. His hands hold your skirt by your knees, and his eyes immediately catch yours in the mirror. He chuckles and shakes his head in astonishment when he realizes that this was your plan all along.

Despite not saying much, he whispers in a raspy voice,

“Brat.”

tags🏷️: @hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust.  So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were,  but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You  glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not. 

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head. 

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

"What flowers do you like?"

Wriothesley asks one day, trying to seem nonchalant. Trying to make it look not as obvious that he's already mentally running through a list of Fontanian florists.

But you hm to yourself, frowning. "I... don't know. I've never really received flowers before," you say with a shrug, acting like it's no big deal. Wriothesley, though, has to catch himself before he drops the pen in his hand.

"Never?" He asks with wide eyes, head snapping in your direction, jaw dropping the slightest bit. "None of your past relationships ever got you flowers?"

You shake your head, not really bothered by the fact, and although you're nonchalant about it, Wriothesley immediately feels the gears in his head turn. That mental list of florists runs through his mind at double the speed. His finger absently taps on the wood of his desk, mind racing as he does some rough estimations. Unaware and unsuspecting, you merely go back to perusing the books in his office, running your hands over their worn spines, oblivious to the clench in Wriothesley's jaw and the determined glint in his eye.

A week later, and Wriothesley returns from the surface with a bouquet in his hands. It's nothing too big or ostentatious— that's not really his style. Instead, it's simple in its beauty and easy on the eyes. All sorts of flowers have been included, even ones not native to Fontaine. Cecilias from Mondstadt, Glaze Lillies and Qingxin from Liyue, Padisarahs from Sumeru, and even Fluorescent Flowers from Inazuma's Chinju forest, among others. All arranged by hands more skilled and talent more honed than he could ever hope to achieve.

Wriothesley knocks on your door, heart stuck in his throat, and can't help but laugh a little at how cliche it all looks. Him, standing in front of your door with a bunch of flowers in hand, desperately trying to fight down his blush when he hears a 'coming!' faintly behind your door.

When you swing it open, your greeting is caught in your throat, eyes wide as they behold the blue and white blossoms Wriothesley brought for you.

"What... what's this? What's the occasion?"

But he shakes his head, and at his behest you take the bouquet into your arms, holding it carefully. When you bury your nose among the petals, they smell sweet but not saccharinely overpowering. It's enough to make you want to cry.

"No occasion," Wriothesley says, one hand going to scratch at the back of his neck, his smile shy and bashful. "I just wanted to get them for you. Wanted to be the first person to ever get you a bouquet of flowers, you know? But importing them took longer than i expected and, well, I told the florist that I was giving it to someone very special so they spent some extra time on the arrangement..." He trails off, clearing his throat nervously. "...Do you like it?"

And that sets loose the tears behind your eyes.

Wriothesley panics a little when he sees how you blubber, sobs making your shoulders shake as you hide your face in the flowers. His eyes widen, a frantic apology on the tip of his tongue while he fears that he messed up somehow. But then you tackle him into a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close until you can bury your head in his chest and cry. His arms wrap around you almost hesitantly, but when you nuzzle closer into his embrace and they tighten around you.

You're barely able to speak through your tears, words muffled around his undoubtedly ruined shirt.

"I love it." I love you, you really mean.

And how can you not? This sweetheart of a man bought you flowers just because he wanted to. Because no one else had before, and he wanted to be the first person to do so. All his sporadic trips to the surface for the past week make sense— you doubt procuring so many imported flowers so quickly was an easy task on top of troubleshooting the various hiccups of the fortress and sorting through some documents that found themselves on his desk. But he did it anyway, just because he thought it'd make you happy.

"I'm glad," Wriothesley murmurs. He rocks you back and forth in his embrace until your happy tears begin to subside. Then he clears his throat. "So, can I buy you another one next week, too?"

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[junipers-archive]

Paper Rings

Word count: 1.1k

Includes: tiny itty bit of angst to fluff, fluff, fluff, Spencer has been acting distant so you try to start up a conversation, ultimately leading to his confession about wanting to marry you but never finding the right moment

You were worried. More than usual worried, worried. Spencer had been acting odd lately, and for the past few weeks you had been trying your best to ignore it.

It was hard though, he had been distant, almost neglectful, his once cheerful and atentative attitude when listening to your day or the new book you'd been reading gone and replaced by a cool indifrence.

You were near to him now, sitting on the sunflower yellow sofa in your apartment, reading different books. But instead of being next to you he was on the other side of the couch.

In an attempt to start up a conversation you mentioned one of your fresher pieces of news,

"Hey Spence", He didn't even look up, just hummed.

You scooted closer, "Uh- I- Well you know my cousin? Marion, the one who got engaged a few months back?"

"yea" his eyes shifted up quickly and then right back down to his book.

"Well they finally set a date! I got my invite in the mail yesterday morning, it's in Hawaii!!"

"Oh, really?" he wasn't even glancing up now to seem interested.

Nevertheless, you tried one last time with enthusiasm, hoping he'd be kind enough to take pity and reciprocate even a fraction of it.

"So whadaya say handsome, be my plus one?"

"mhm." mhm. That's what your relationship had dwindled down to?

You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes as you got up from the sofa, trying really hard not to cry. But there was only so much you could take, was he seeing someone else? What had you done to make him so upset?

But that was the thing he wasn't even yelling at you! You'd become an irrelevant part of his life without even realizing it.

By this time you were grabbing your things in a scramble, trying to get out, get out of the apartmentget, get out of his life if thats what he really wanted. When it occurred to you that he was still obsorbed in that stupid book of his.

And you had to know, You just had to.

"Did I do something?! What-Just tell me what I did Spencer please!"

You were standing before him now, waving your arms around manically.

"Y-Y/n, whats wrong?"

"I don't know Spencer you tell me! I mean first I thought it was a case you were on that had put you off, or maybe that we'd been apart for too long but weeks went by! Its been weeks and you still won't even look me in the eye when we're talking!" You fail in your previous attempts to keep the tears at bay as droplets fall down your flushed cheeks.

He was stunned but eventually he found his words, "I-I- that wasn't my intention, I- just- I-"

You were hysterical at this point, he couldn't even tell you?

"Look Spencer. If you wanna break up, just say it already!"

You were one second away from storming out when he spoke up again, catching you by the wrist and leading you down the hall to the bedroom quickly.

"Look I'm really, really sorry Y/n its just that- well it'd be easier if I just showed you."

You came to sit on the bed, arms crossed over your chest as if armor protecting you from being hurt.

He was searching through the back of the closet you shared, finally pulling out a shoe box. He sat down next to you, opening the box, where rested an old sweater of his that had been worn thin and a black velvet box sitting within.

He handed the small compartment over to you explaining frantically,

"I've wanted to marry you for a long time now, hell Y/n I wanted to marry you since the moment I met you. But I kept chickening out and for the past few weeks I've taken you to our spots to pop the question but I-I- nothing was ever good enough...I couldn't find the perfect moment."

he looked straight in your eyes now, which were watery, overwhelmed by the idea he wanted to marry you just as much as you wanted to marry him. "You deserve the perfect moment. And not being able to provide that to you, it tore me apart, so...I became distant, praying I was good enough but also hoping you's find someone better..."

"I-I understand completely that this isn't the time or place but when I saw that you were crying- I just I needed you to know that the reason I was being so distant wasn't because I wanted to break up, far from it! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!"

You opened the box now, silently falling in love even more as you gazed down at the your dream ring.

Finally lifting your gaze to the boy in front of you and kissing him deeply, finding your voice again as you pulled back grinning,

"You're an idiotic-genius, you know that?"

He only grinned back, "Yea, yea I'm fairly aware."

You slipped on the ring, it was perfect fit.

"Well...Are you gonna ask me?"

He shook his head, "You're gonna have to wait till i find our perfect moment."

You grumbled like a digruntled child, leaping back on the bed and guarding your ring finger as he tried to take it back. Ultimately he ended up on top of you, both of you play wrestling like children.

"Y/n. Give. It. Back."

"NO its my ring now! You can't take it back! You practically already proposed!"

"You said yourself, I technically haven't asked!"

"Well why don't I keep it for now, just until you're ready?" You were wearing a shit-eating grin as you looked up at him, he had pinned you down with his hands on your wrists.

"No way. What Would I propose with then?"

You craned your neck to kiss him then, albeit akwardly. "I'd marry you with paper rings Dr. Reid."

He had gotten admittedly lost in your sweet words, which you used as your opprutunity to slide out from under him, once more flashing you giant grin before running out of the room.

"Y/N!"

The afternoon was lost to him chasing you around the apartment as you chanted, "Paper rings dr. Reid! Paper rings!"

[alottiegoingon]

HIDDEN

natalie scatorccio x gn!reader

summary: you and nat study together.

warnings: reader and nat have a crush on each other, indirect flirting, nat lives in a trailer, not proofread.

the evening sun filtered through the thin curtains of the small, run-down trailer, casting a warm glow over the cluttered interior. books and notes were scattered across the worn-out coffee table, where natalie sat cross-legged, her fingers idly flipping through the pages of her history textbook.

you sat opposite her, your own textbooks spread out in front of you. the air was thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you two for months. friends, yes, but always teetering on the edge of something more. it was in the way her eyes lingered on you a moment too long, in the playful banter that always seemed to have an underlying meaning.

"you know," you said, breaking the comfortable silence, "if you spent half as much time studying as you do with that eyeliner, you'd probably ace this test."

natalie smirked, her dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. "yeah, but then i wouldn't have time to show off my impressive ability to make straight a's and perfect wings," she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm.

you laughed, shaking your head. "fair point. but really, nat, you need to focus. mr. benson is gonna grill us on the civil war tomorrow."

she groaned, dropping her head back dramatically. "i know, i know. it's just...so boring. why can't history have more explosions or something?"

"pretty sure there were plenty of explosions during the civil war," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "you just have to know where to look."

natalie rolled her eyes but leaned forward, her elbow resting on the table as she glanced at your notes. "alright, impress me with your historical knowledge then."

you launched into a brief explanation of the major battles, trying to make it as engaging as possible. every so often, you'd catch her eye, and there it was – that spark, that hint of something more. you couldn't help but wonder if she felt it too.

as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm of your conversation. you teased each other mercilessly, yet there was an underlying tenderness in every jibe. it was in the way she nudged your foot with hers under the table, the way her laughter lit up her face and made your heart skip a beat.

at one point, you leaned over to grab a highlighter, your hand brushing against hers. a jolt of electricity shot through you, and you saw her eyes widen ever so slightly. neither of you moved, the contact lingering just a second too long before you pulled away, your cheeks flushed.

"see," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "you're actually pretty smart when you try."

natalie snorted, but there was a softness in her gaze. "don't get used to it. i'm only doing this because you begged me."

"begged? i seem to recall you saying you needed help, and i graciously offered my services," you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips.

she chuckled, shaking her head. "whatever helps you sleep at night."

the playful banter continued like a dance, the two of you circling around the truth but never quite touching it. you wanted to say something, to break the barrier and let her know how you felt, but the fear of ruining what you had held you back.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, the trailer was bathed in a soft, golden light. you closed your textbook, stretching your arms over your head. "i think that's enough for today. we should probably get some rest if we're gonna survive the class tomorrow."

natalie nodded, closing her own book with a sigh of relief. "yeah, you're right. thanks for... helping me out."

there was a moment of silence. you could see the conflict in her eyes, the same battle you were fighting within yourself. finally, she stood up.

"guess i'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

you nodded, standing up as well. "yeah, see you tomorrow, nat."

as she walked you towards the door, you felt a pang of regret. you didn't want to leave things unsaid, but the words were lodged in your throat. just as she reached for the handle, already opening it for you, you blurted out, "hey, nat?"

she turned around, her eyes searching yours. "yeah?"

you took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. "i...i just wanted to say...you're not as useless as you think you are. you're actually pretty amazing."

a flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed by a soft smile that she quickly hid. "don't get all soft on me," she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly was the last thing you saw before leaving the trailer.

[dmgloom]

@yamujiburo this is very much your fault that I had to make this at 4am, but here we are.

The hoot-hoot clock on the wall ticked away the early morning hours as Jessie sat up reading on the couch. It was one of those restless nights where her brain kept reminding her of her various screw-ups. Once, she would have channeled that energy into devising some new caper with James and Meowth, but now they were upstanding citizens- the boys assisting Sam with his research, and Jessie…

Well, here she was, reclined on a couch she helped pick out, living in the house she shared with her wife and her stepson. How much of a screw-up could she really be? Take that, brain.

She only caught herself smiling when it was startled from her face by an unexpected voice.

"Da- Jessie," Ash started from the hallway. "...do you have a minute?"

He called her Dad most of the time because she pretended to be annoyed by it and it was hilarious. To hear him use her name… maybe she had screwed up and the kiddo was about rain down thunderous judgement. Between Delia's cooking and her relative lack of activity- criminal or otherwise- she wasn't sure she was spry enough to go blasting off again.

…But looking at Ash framed in the doorway, she could tell that wasn't the case. He looked small - he was small- only a few years out from the grandest of his adventures when he was ten years old. But he always seemed larger than life, so full of spark and spunk and an eagerness… stuff she'd thought she'd lost long ago. In hindsight, she'd been jealous. But now he looked uncertain. Maybe even afraid.

"What's up, twerp?" She said it warmly- it'd became a term of endearment between them now, though she'd never say it in front of Delia. She folded her book closed and sat up, patting the seat on the couch beside her in invitation. Ash hesitated, looking for a moment like he wanted to flee, but then crossed the room and sat down next to her. "Ash… what's wrong?"

He was quiet for a long moment. Fidgeting with something in his fingers. One of his older badges, worn but well-maintained. A small, bright, multicolored flower turned over between his digits again and again as he gathered his words.

"Do you remember… Celadon City Gym?" He asked finally.

She thought for a moment. Gyms weren't usually her scene, though she'd definitely been to a few, and with Ash… ah. The fire. "Gosh we really bunged that one up. I'm glad no one got hurt." She leaned forward and grasp his arm in sudden realization, "Ash you could've been killed, I'm… I'm sorry."

He smiled and shook his head. "No, not that part. Though I'm glad you aren't blowing stuff up any more." His brief sunny smile slipped back into melancholy. "No I mean, before that. When you helped me get in. With the disguise."

"Oh! That!" Jessie said, relieved, "definitely rushed but some of our better work, if I do say so myself. What about it?"

"I just… nevermind, it's stupid." He moved to stand, but Jessie held him back by his arm.

"Whatever it is, it's not stupid," she said firmly. "Tell me." She relaxed her grip and smiled up at him what she hoped was reassuringly "Please? It'll be okay."

He hesitated again, searching her face for… something, before sitting back down. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

"Being Ashley… was fun," he said. "I thought it was just the excitement of sneaking in, and it was that, too but… I don't know, it was… easy?" He shook his head. "I think… I wanted to talk to you… and maybe James? I know he… uh… dresses up a lot. Or did." Ash flushed red as Jessie let him talk. She could tell he'd been thinking pretty hard about this- she was touched that he felt he could come to her, with this or indeed at all. She wasn't really sure where she stood with him most of the time, but now… she couldn't help but smile.

"James and I would be happy to talk about anything you wanted, Ash," she said. "I know it probably hasn't been easy- Pallet is kind of a backwater- and you're kind of a high-profile kid… Anyway, we're both here for you, I can wrangle the boys tomorrow and we can send Meowth off to run some errands, if that's what you want."

"Okay," he said. He seemed relieved already, if a bit still uncertain. "Do you think… do you think you could keep this a secret from Mom for now? I don't want to disappoint her."

Jessie gave him a sharp look. "Kiddo, your mother could never be disappointed in you. She almost broke up with me when I said that Riley kid had maybe filled out a bit better than you at the last Indigo awards ceremony." Ash chuckled and she smiled again. "But. I won't tell her if that's what you want. We can talk to her together, when you're ready, if that's what you want."

He nodded and she ruffled his hair. "Alright, get your butt in bed. It's… ouch, almost 4am."

He stood and walked toward the hall, toward his room. He paused in the doorway, filling it more than he had before, somehow.

"Thanks, Dad," he said, and smiled.

"Goodnight… Ashley." She winked. A bit of a nudge, perhaps, but his smile widened as he disappeared down the hall.

[milchig-de]

Caught

Pairing: Lighter x Reader

Summary: You just want to chill and jerk off but Lighter catches you in the act. What will he do?

Warnings: It's sex guys what can i say. Read at your own discretion, 18+ etc. Reader has a dick but is kept gender neutral (do tell if i missed something)

Notes: I am sooo normal about him. Super, completely normal. Not freaking out about him or anything. Nuh uh. No way.... I say, writing smut fanfic abt him shsjhdks

i feel like i wrote him a bit ooc, but im excusing it with the fact we don't interact with him that much shsks

"Ugh."

You plop down on your bed while letting out a very unceremonious groan. It was another hard day of working with the Sons of Calydon. After almost losing the cargo you were transporting and getting chewed out by Lucy (followed up by Caesar telling her to chill, which then ended in another battle, pulling you in as a judge and in the end bringing more of Lucy's wrath upon you because of course she lost) you want to do nothing more than just relax and have a restful sleep.

With the utmost willpower you can muster up, you get up to change into some clean clothes, do your usual before bed routine and slip under your covers. Happily, you cuddled yourself deeper into the comfort of your sheets. Only...

Sleep doesn't come to you. At all.

Looking at the clock, you realize it's still fairly early. So naturally, your mind is still running at top speeds even though your body craves some respite.

So what can you do to either pass some time or make yourself sleepier?

Well, some good options include making yourself some warm milk or counting sheep, reading a book, the usual options one would go for.

But all of those options sound incredibly tedious. Not only would you have to get up and leave the comfort of your bed for some of them, they all just sound so... unappealing. Plus you've tried counting sheep and the like before, you know it doesn't work for shit.

So, you choose the worn and proven method of: Masturbating. It weakens your mind so it can easily fall prey to sleep- you have some tissues on your night table as well. Hopefully, cleaning yourself up afterwards won't cause you to lose the sleepiness.

You push the covers off of you. It would be even more tedious if you accidentally smear pre on them, which would mean having to change the sheets and wash them.

Since you're not hard yet, you start gently palming your dick through your pants. You try imagining something arousing that'll do the trick, remembering some porn you watched recently or just general sexy stuff. But... even though you try not to think of anyone specific, only one person comes to mind. The undefeated champion and your one and only long-time crush, Lighter Lorenz. Well, not that he knows that he's your crush, you've just figured he's probably not interested in you. It's not like you're proper partner material.

Shaking your head, you try to get rid of your thoughts regarding Lighter. It's bad enough you can't stop thinking about him during the day, you don't want to also imagine him in the most vulnerable state. But it just seems impossible. The bad boy act he puts on captivates you, even more so when his nicer side shines through when he's flustered, not to mention his devilishly handsome face and his fat ass that keep circling around in your head until all your thoughts surround only him again. You wish you could just rail him into tomorrow until he forgets his own fucking name, slamming your cock into his hole and passionately sucking on his tongue- yeah you're beyond saving.

Groaning at your unsuccessful attempts of getting aroused by something other than who is basically your co worker, you rethink. Is it really so bad to desire him like this? After all, any thoughts like wanting him naked and the like won't ever come to his attention; it's not like he can read your mind. As long as you can manage to act normal towards him, it shouldn't be a problem to jerk off to your thoughts about him... Surely.

So you decide to just go with the flow. You pull your pants down to half of your thigh. Your dick springs up, throbbing eagerly at the thought of getting some much needed stimulation.

You lick your hand and then spit on it to have some lubrication, before you enclose your shaft in your fist, imagining it was Lighter doing this to you. A sense of relief washes over you and instinctively, you moan out Lighter's name, upon which you immediately slam your other hand over your mouth because you know the walls are not particularly soundproof. Technically, the others should be out but... there's still plenty of other people hanging about where they shouldn't be.

Keeping your hand clasped around your mouth, you start moving your fist up and down your cock again. Squeezing the top, you can't help but shudder blissfully at the pleasure coursing through you- until your door is suddenly thrown open.

"Hey, did you call for me-"

Your wide eyes make contact with Lighter's equally wide eyes through his sunglasses. For a moment, neither of you move or say anything, you with one hand around your dick and the other on your mouth, while Lighter stands at your door, still holding the door open.

Then you quickly scramble to pull your pants back up and Lighter quickly closes the door behind him, presumable to shield your dignity from even more humiliation.

Your face burns as you try to adjust to a position where your still raging boner isn't too obvious. Regardless of the obvious circumstances (and your very obvious embarrassment), you try to play it cool.

"So uhm, did you need anything from me? I'm too tired to do anything else today so you can also just tell me tomorrow... "

Clearing his throat, Lighter also tries to resume with his usual act of being aloof and uncaring, but his red face is a dead giveaway.

"I was walking past and heard my name so I thought you called for me... I really didn't expect to find you like this though."

No fucking way he heard you moan his name. Holy shit. You need to leave the Outer Ring, change your identity immediately. There's no way you can live with him knowing what you truly think of him. Just thinking about how awkward it would be- not to mention the chaos it would bring to the Sons of Calydon. As a gang, you need to work together like clockwork, there's no space for weird tensions. You could live with the shame, but you're not sure if he'd even want to hang around you anymore. Your mind runs at 100 miles an hour as you scramble to work some excuses up.

"Lighter, listen it's- it's not what you think-"

He raises an eyebrow at you. Yeah he clearly saw you jerking off- there's no way you're getting out of it. So you jump to plan B. You straighten up, trying to look as serious as you can, even with your still flushed face.

"Lighter, I'm... I'm sorry. I know you don't see me that way and that this is a super awkward situation. I know you're probably super grossed out at me, but I really hope this conflict won't affect the gang. I'm.."

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm at your next words.

"I'm ready to leave the Sons of Calydon if I make you uncomfortable."

Lighter flinches at your words. You and him have shared a few of your struggles- so he knows this isn't an easy decision for you. After the gang picked you up when you were at your lowest, leaving it would mean leaving your only home behind. With nowhere to go, what would happen to you? The Outer Ring certainly isn't a place where it's easy to find one's footing. But more importantly...

" You've got nothing to apologize for. I'm not uncomfortable with... this situation, and uhm, you."

You stare at him, stunned. It'd be a lie to say you didn't half expect him to just start punching you.

He clears his throat and looks off to the side, a light blush covering his face.

"Actually, I'm very interested in what you were doing before I came in."

Huh?

"I-In fact, I want to know just what you were thinking about to get you to moan out my name... if you could tell me?"

HUH???

Not only is he not grossed out, it seems like he's enjoying this?? You can tell he has a smile on his face from the way his eyes seem to crinkle, even with his hand covering the lower half of his face. You sputter out a startled reply.

"W-well, I was imagining us making out and touching each other... I was thinking about you stroking my dick and- wait!"

You're sure you were as red as Old Daddy right now. Is this really okay? Is it really fine for you to just tell him your disgusting fantasies? Is he really... not upset? You squeeze your thigh before voicing your concerns.

"Are-are you sure you want to hear this? I mean, it's pretty gross for me to think these things about you and even more so to voice them so uh, I'm very sorry again"

A short silence engulfs you. Then, Lighter starts walking towards you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for the impact of his fist, but it never comes. Instead, you only feel him sit down at the end of your bed and gently put a hand on your leg. Composed as he seems, you still feel the slight tension in his hand. You cautiously open your eyes.

"If I had been uncomfortable, I would've made this clear by now. I definitely wouldn't stay around to hear someone being horny about me if I wasn't interested. And I also don't think you're gross. Actually I-, uhm"

He starts stammering and his face heats up again. He is pretty cute like this. You wish you could just snatch him up and kiss him so he wouldn't have to try speaking anymore.

"I think you're..."

He takes a moment to clear his throat, collecting himself.

"You're wonderful. You always care for me when I do end up getting into a fight. It... it helps me immensely in dealing with... the aftermath. To tell you the truth, I've also had significantly less nightmares because of you. And you're just... so pretty and handsome... It'd be hard not to like you."

Ah. You want to think he's lying- it's hard to accept anyone could ever think of you in a positive way. After all, you don't really have anything to offer. You're not funny or interesting to talk to, you don't have an important job in the gang and you most certainly aren't the most handsome person you can imagine. All in all, you're just an average joe!

But you know Lighter wouldn't lie to you- plus, all of these things are subjective judgments from you. Who's to say he doesn't see you differently?

Clenching your fist, you shuffle closer towards him, bringing your face near his. You reach up to take off his glasses, but hesitate. You know that they act as a sort of barrier against the world around him. Seeing your hesitation, Lighter gives you a short nod. So, you gently pull them off, your hands trembling. Gazing into his eyes, you reply.

"I... Well, you've probably already figured this out, but I also find you quite attractive. I mean, not only your body I just think you're so cute and I love the way you care for the other gang members..."

He gazes at you, with a love in his eyes that make you feel like you could burst at any moment. If there's anything you wish for, it's to keep this moment burned eternally in your memory. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek.

"May I kiss you?"

You nod and he pulls you closer until your lips touch. Feeling his warmth on your lips is like a dream come true. There's a faint smell of oil and sweat coming off of him- it only makes you all the more hungrier for him.

Hesitantly, you decide to take the first step- since he has shown you that he truly desires you, it's time for you to step up to the plate.

You open your mouth and slide your tongue out to worm your way into his. He quickly lets you in, greeting your tongue with his own. They dance and wrestle with each other. You taste his spit and savour the taste, groaning into his mouth.

A string of spit connects you as you pull off with a wet sound. You gaze into each other's eyes as you pant, both utterly flushed.

Ligther regains his composure faster.

"Do you... think you could continue? With what you were doing before?"

You raise your eyebrows.

"You... want to watch me masturbate?"

"Yes."

"Well... I was going to do this anyway."

You return to your previous position under his heavy gaze. The way he drinks in every movement of yours leaves you utterly exposed- moreso when you start taking off your clothes. For the sake of him getting to see something, you undress completely.

Your dick already stands at attention again, having temporarily deflated during the serious talk with Lighter. Letting out an anticipating sigh, you grasp your cock again and squeeze it before starting up with the familiar up and down movement.

Moans fall from your mouth, partially influenced by Lighter's gaze on you. Glancing up at him, his flustered state encourages you.

You decide to put on a show for him. Sliding your fist up, you swipe your thumb across the head to collect the bead of precum, but then continue to tease the head and rub the spots which are the most sensitive. This naturally makes you let out more sounds, which seems to please Lighter, as he even sneaks a hand down to palm himself through his pants.

His watchful gaze leaves you feeling utterly exposed and incredibly aroused. Staring into his eyes, you can't help but imagine again that he's the one twisting his hand around your cock. Just the thought makes you unconsciously speed up, building up a feeling in your stomach that makes you curl your toes. Closing your eyes you let your head fall back, barely able to handle being watched.

After a few more strokes, you tilt your head down to look at him again. The sight is downright divine. He's panting almost as much as you, face flushed and still palming his dick. His elated expression brings you over the edge, ropes of cum shooting out onto you.

Seeing that you're finished, he stares at you, watching your chest rise from your heaving breaths.

Something in him snaps and he rushes forward to hungrily connect your lips again, shoving his tongue in your mouth once more. With barely any time to react, you try your best to reciprocrate, eventually managing to sneak a hand down to grope his ass. Lighter lets out a moan, his tongue still in your mouth. You use this opportunity to suck on it. His eyes flit to yours in surprise before they roll up at the wave of pleasure you managed to solicit by groping his very visible bulge.

But it's not enough friction, not enough of your touch for him, so Lighter separates from you and starts stripping. Although he only does it with the main goal of getting his clothes off, you can't help but be entranced by his body. His muscles flex and stretch while he undresses, a few scars decorating his body. It's obvious he fights for a living, but in the most positive sense.

You're so distracted with gawking at him that you don't even notice Lighter has finished undressing. So he decides to take the lead instead. Grasping your hand that's still covered in cum, he licks it off all while maintaining eye contact. You moan out at his actions, your dick twitching to life again at the erotic sight.

Encouraged, you immediately move to pleasure him after he lets go of your hand, but Lighter instead grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss.

His lips are somewhat chapped, you can smell motor oil and sweat on him. It feels so good to have his warmth against your lips, to move in tandem with him. It only gets better when he opens his mouth and licks at yours. You follow suit, letting him explore your mouth with his tongue. You can still taste your cum on it. The sensations of it make you groan into his mouth, eliciting a shudder from him.

But still you decide to focus on the more important thing: Lighter's cock. You gently push him back. Understanding your intentions, he moves back and adjusts to sit comfortably.

Grabbing his dick in your hand causes him to let out a hiss of relief. Seems like he has really needed this as well. Massaging it gently, you spit into your other hand for some much needed lubrication. Then you start stroking it, earning yourself a few moans from him. It doesn't take too long before he starts panting in earnest, hot puffs of breath leaving his mouth intertwined with occasional groans.

"Mmh... Very good...Ngh- I like that..."

You swipe at his tip when you reach it a few times, before deciding to duck down and kiss it.

"Ah! Y-you don't need to use your mouth for- ahhnnnngh...."

You had opened your mouth and taken his tip into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his tip, playing with his slit. Lighter can't help but let out a series of moans and whimpers, sounding like an angel sent straight from heaven. All the while, you of course haven't stopped stroking the rest of it with your hand. You consider just deep throating him, but you're not really feeling up to the task. So instead, you focus on the tip and even swallow around it. This earns you a well-deserved whimper. To test the waters, you carefully graze his dick with your teeth. He bucks his hips up at that, accidentally thrusting his dick further into your throat, causing you to pull off of him out of reflex.

"Ah shit, sorry I didn't mean to- NGHHF" He starts reaching for you, but before he can do anything, you're back on track already.

You speed up your hand. This combined with you sucking him works him up faster than expected, his moans growing louder and louder until you notice he's trying really hard to hold back from thrusting into your mouth again. Instead, he grips the back of your head to have something he can hang onto. His head falls back, his eyes closed. It doesn't take much longer before you can feel his thighs tense beside you and suddenly he's filling your mouth with your cum. Diligent as ever, you swallow everything he gives you.

When you think he's done, you pull his cock out of your mouth. But it turns out he still had some cum left and he shoots one more rope of cum onto your face.

His dick softens in your grip, but that's only until he tilts his head forward again and catches a glance of your face- like magic, his dick is hard and throbbing again, the sight of your cum-covered face working wonders for him.

He pulls you up towards him, swiping his cum off your face with his thumb before forcing it in your mouth. You eagerly lick his thumb clean of his cum, playfully nibbling on it lightly. Lighter lets out a moan, pulls his thumb out of your mouth and smashes his lips against yours again.

While he's busying himself with your lips, you carefully adjust your position so he's laying down while you're on top of him. Since both of you are still hard, you figure he might want to go again- and you definitely aren't wrong.

So you line up your cock with his and grind into him. He moans into your mouth at the unexoected pleasure. You start out gentle with your grinding, making sure to use the leftover cum on both of your dicks as lubricant.

Meanwhile, you sneak a hand up to his chest, grasping one of his tits and kneading it. He gasps out at your actions, already overwhelmed by the pleasure. It only gets worse when you busy yourself with his nipples, giving them the occasional flick.

At this point both of your dicks are sufficiently lubricated, so you remove your hand from his chest after cupping his tit one last time and move it down to embrace your dicks together. You form a sort of hole around them, keeping them touching each other constantly. Then you start thrusting into the hole, all while rubbing up against Lighter's dick.

Both of you moan out in pleasure. You originally meant to start slowly and speed up over time, but when you look down at Lighter's expression, you just can't help yourself anymore. Seeing his eyes half-lidded and his tongue hanging out just the tiniest bit makes something within you snap, urging your hips to thrust faster and harder.

Lighter notices this, his eyes widening. However he actually enjoys you going rougher on him, so he lifts his arms and embraces you, pulling you closer to him. You oblige, touching his chest with yours.

"Yes, that's good, ah, keep going, hmpf!"

Feeling his warmth makes the knot in your stomach build up faster and faster. You groan into his shoulder, biting into it to let out your emotions somehow. He calls your name at that. It's obvious he's getting close as well, since his hips have also started thrusting against yours, not to mention his moans.

Retracting yourself from his neck, you instead plunge towards his lips again. Sliding your tongues against each other, the feeling builds up more and more until you come with a squeal, spilling ropes of hot, sticky cum against your stomachs, with Lighter following suit.

Once both of you have spilled every last drop, only your panting can be heard in the room. For a moment you gaze into each other's eyes. You were scared that Lighter would be disgusted by you now that he's used you to get off. But it's quite the contrary. His eyes shine with nothing but his love for you, it almost takes your breath away.

You let out a laugh and collapse on top of him. Cleaning up can wait until later, you decide, sneaking your arms under his torso in a somewhat awkward hug.

He chuckles as well, wrapping his arms around you. Gently, he kisses the side of your head. You think you hear him whisper an "I love you", but your exhaustion catches up with you before you can think about it any further and you fall into a deep slumber.

[bullet-prooflove]

‘Are you wearing my shirt?’

For Mike franks, please

Tagging: @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @clarasmoon @saturnsdevilz

Companion piece to:

Life Lessons (NSFW) - Mike and you don't play the games other couples do.

Count To Five (NSFW) - Mike comes home to a naked woman in his bed.

Pool House (NSFW) - You and Mike steal a moment alone at the LA Law Enforcement Conference.

You’re wearing his shirt, it’s the first thing Mike notices when he rocks up at your crime scene in his NIS windbreaker, with the rest of his team. He has to admit it looks good on you. That shade of pale blue and the way it hugs the contours of your upper body…

He’s already getting stiffy imaging you fucking him in it.

“I think you have something that belongs to me.” He says, sidling up alongside you as stand onto of the embankment, surveying the scene with an A4 sketch book in in your hand.

“That’s because someone left cum stains on mine so I couldn’t wear it to work this morning.” You remind him, sketching out the terrain in front of you. His team usually take a few shots of the landscape but you like to map it out, it helps give you context to the photographs.

His mind flicks back to the first part of last night, his dick in his hand as he jerked off on your face, the end of his cock wet from your mouth. It had been a week since you were last together and he hadn’t anticipated the volume when he came.

“I need to work on my aim.” He concedes crossing his arms over his chest as he leans in close under the pretence of admiring your pencil work.

You still smell like him, the scent of his aftershave, of his body. He has a vague memory of your pager going off at fuck knows what time this morning, your lips brushing over his temple before you’d disappeared. He’d fallen back asleep almost immediately because you’d worn him out the night before.

“Yes you do.” You remark, the edges of your mouth trying not to tip up into a smile.

His hand slips under your black blazer, his palm coming to rest upon your lower back, thumb chasing over the phases of the lunar cycle tattoo that resides there. He’s kissed every single one of those tiny inked moons, he could find them in his sleep.

“You know I was thinking maybe it’s time you started leaving a few things at my place. Blouses, panties, lady things…”

“Lady things?” You repeat stifling a laugh by clearing your throat. “Are we talking tampons or hair brushes? Because one implies a more serious type of relationship than the other.”

Mike looks at you quizzically, his dark eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

“Tampons imply you want me around even when we’re not having sex.” You tell him and his forehead creases as he takes in this new information.

“Then both.” He tells you, shrugging his shoulders. “So long as it all fits in the drawer I clean out unless…” he pauses for a moment because this, being with someone again, getting serious it’s new territory for him. “I mean is it something you want… with me?”

It’s the uncertainty in his voice that kills you. To anyone else Mike Franks is a cocky son of a bitch and he can afford to be because he’s kinda the rockstar of NIS. When he’s with you, he’s just a man, one that’s starting to heal again after a really traumatic fucking ending to this last relationship.

“I do want that.” You assure him, tilting your head up to meet his gaze so he can see the sincerity in your eyes. “I want that very much.”

Love Mike? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[yongbokology]

the one where satoru won’t leave jujutsu tech’s receptionist/bookkeeper alone

poc coded reader wc; 1.3k warnings; gojo fucking satoru, graphic language, innuendos, slight nsfw language an: this was supposed to be a drabble at first but um yeah, anyways happy/spooky 🎃 readings 

your morning consists of the same routine you’ve been doing for the past ten years.

being a receptionist and bookkeeper at jujutsu tech is not a simple job by any means..

answering calls, documenting, filing, sorting paperwork and books- just the whole shabang.

for ten years you’ve worn the same dress shirt and pencil skirt, often switching out the pencil skirt for slacks.. hair neatly kept and pulled up in any updo.

for ten years you’ve had the same cafe breakfast order to start your day.

… but for thirteen agonizing years, there’s been this pestering.. infuriating white-haired sorcerer whose favorite pastime was doing anything to get under your skin. 

satoru who first laid eyes on you as a fifteen-year-old when your uncle, the principal, took you in after your parent’s untimely demise.

satoru who knew you’d always be in the school library with your face buried nose deep in a book and found you every day after class or training.

you wouldn’t admit but you did appreciate the company. even though you did enjoy your own company it did get lonely at times.

so when you hear a familiar ‘{name} -channnn.’ off in the distance, you shake your head as you continue to click-clack away at your desktop. already knowing what’s to come.

you hear the door to the library slide open and pretty soon you have a tall, glossy lipped and infuriatingly handsome sorcerer planting both hands on your desk, leaning over your computer to see what you’re tasked with.

“how many times do i have to tell you to drop the honorific, satoru.” you don’t take your eyes off the screen in front of you. 

“i only use it because i know it bothers you, pretty girl.”

oh yeah, there was also that to mention; his nickname for you. 

a nickname his seventeen-year-old self gave to you after having a cherry blossom stuck in your dark locs and asking him to get it out for you- only for him to tell you that you look pretty with it and to keep it in. you did.

you’d never admit to him that that memory makes your cheeks warm when you think about it.

“it’s halloween, almost everyone’s off. i know you’re off because i made the schedule. so why are you here?”

satoru scoffs, “yeah, everyone’s off but you. why’d you choose to work on halloween? don’t have any plans?”

you can taste the teasing on his tongue at the end.

“haven’t celebrated halloween since i was twelve, satoru.” you push your chair back from the desk a little and finally take a look.

he’s dressed in a bomber jacket with racing pins and slacks. satoru always had an eye for fashion and the school’s uniform really did him no justice.

“we can change that today.”

“no thanks.”

he shoves his hands in his pockets, resting his butt against your desk. you fight the urge to push him off the desk, knowing he never had his infinity on around you.

he’s frowning, pulling a hand out from his jacket pocket to move an unruly strand out of your face. the pad of his fingers lightly brushing against your hot skin. your heart thrums from both the action and the brief feel of his slender fingers.

you feel so trapped under his gaze that you don't move an inch when he brings his face close to yours. “and why not?”

you swallow thickly, satoru’s notices this and his lips twist into a playful smile.

you close your eyes and clear your throat, readjusting yourself.

“i have work to do, satoru.”

“come on, pretty. you never want to hang out. you have no plans, no responsibilities at home, you’re hot, i’m hot, the possibilities are endless. we need to get you out of those work clothes and have some fun. whaddaya say?”

you don’t miss the innuendo that makes your leg twitch and below your skirt go warm. you sigh, rolling your head back.

“pretty please?”

a night out couldn’t hurt, right?

“i can’t believe you said yes to that dumb ass, {name}.” utahime sighs over the phone.

you’re dolling yourself up at your vanity with utahime on speaker. “i did say no at first but.. satoru can be convincing at times. plus, i can’t remember a day or night where i wasn’t working,” you reason.

you’re doing the finishing touches of your makeup, making sure your lip combo is to your liking. after being happy with the way you look you get up from your vanity in your white silk robe and over to your bed.

“i’m gonna leave soon but i’ll send pics, thanks again for helping me pick out my costume.”

“of course and you better. i wanna see how it all came together. anyways, go enjoy your date with satoru.”

you stiffen. “IT’S NOT A DATE, WE’RE GOING TO A PARTY!”

she hangs up mid-yell.

unbelievable. after all, he didn’t explicitly say it was a date. even then, who’d take someone to a party as a first date.

you lift up your black skims dress that you had bought months ago but never worn. utahime encouraged you to get it after seeing it go viral on social media. she knew you’d look drop-dead fucking gorgeous in it.

you loved utahime. she was such a girl’s girl.

you carefully slipped the dress on, it was a tight but comfortable fit. you turned to look at yourself in the mirror and immediately planned on calling utahime to thank her when you got back home.

your figure was accentuated to a t. you were so used to seeing yourself in work attire, any other clothing was house/sleepwear so this was new to you.

though you never got out much didn’t mean you didn’t know how to do your makeup. you for sure knew how to do your makeup and made a point to make it flawless for work and definitely not for a certain set of blue eyes.

you checked the two holes on your neck to make sure it wasn’t smudged when you changed into the dress.

it was definitely a last-minute costume but you could never go wrong with the classic vampire. the smokey eyes, red + black lip combo, thick and dark bouncy curls. it was definitely giving vampiress. 

you pick up your phone and walk to the mirror, snapping a few pictures for utahime and maybe one to post later to update your instagram. as you pose and try to get good angles you freeze when you get a message notification. 

satoru

u ready?

gosh he still typed like a damn teenager

you

just finished actually 

satoru

lemme see :3

you

just hurry up and get here before i change my mind

satoru

keeping me on my toes?

i’m already here pretty

turn around.

you nearly jump out of your skin when you turn around to see satoru leaning up against your bedroom wall. you want to cuss him out and shout various expletives at him but it’s hard to muster up the will to do so when he’s standing there looking fine as ever in his fireman costume.

the phony uniform sleeves are wrapped around his slender waist, a white wife beater to go with the fireman get-up.

there was a fire going on with all the alarm bells going on inside your brain and he fucking smirks when he catches you ogling. 

“how the fuck did you know where i live?? and how long were you standing there?”

satoru pushes himself off the wall closing the proximity between the two of you. he’s towering over you and suddenly you want to become one with the floor.

“nevermind that, the way you look right is enough to make any man go weak at the knees.”

you quirk a brow. “are you one of those men?”

he crosses his arm over his chest, wife beater having his muscles on full display. those muscles were new information to you but you weren’t complaining.

“definitely,” he pauses before bending forward slightly, his slender fingers suddenly having your jaw in a soft hold.

“change of plans, how about we ditch this party, yeah?”

.

.

.

.

© yongbokology y2k23

thx 4 reading <3 border creds @leopardprnt

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hello! May I just say that your last fic Tangerine x Reader was great??? Like, seriously great?? One question, if you don't mind: are we going to read a piece about that time that Tangerine mentioned him getting angry/yelling at the reader?

I'm super curious, but mostly really intrigued about their relationship!

Hey Anon,

Means the world to me that you enjoyed it!!!!!

I'm currently waiting for work to start but I thought I could do a small blurb. I typed/edited this on my phone and I'm worried about it. This may or may not be loosely based on real events....

Warnings: readers got some trauma, shouting, crying really hard, supportive partner.

He was frustrated and tired. Lemon hadn't shut up all day, Tan knowing it was because he was nervous didn't have the heart to keep telling him to shut up.

He knew his patience had worn thin. Seeing you avoid him made the very last of it evaporate.

He paused and tried to understand what the problem was. He opened the door to the flat, you were sitting on the couch reading. After a brisk hello you were doing dishes and banging around the kitchen.

You clearly weren't going to make it easy on him by confronting him, so he took a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" His tone was a little firm.

You didn't look up from the sink.

"Nothing." You said dismissively before turning on the oven and moving towards the fridge.

Years of his mother looking miserable flashed before him and he grabbed your shoulders once you turned around.

"No." He breathed. "What. Is. Wrong." He had raised his voice more than he intended. What he wanted was to show you that he cared that you weren't alright. That he was taking a serious interest in the problem to fix it for you.

What he got was a whole glass baking pan of casserole dropped on his foot.

He took a shuddering breath unable to curse when your eyes looked so scared already.

"I'm sorry." You whispered before bursting into tears. " I was reading and I didn't notice the time- the dishes and you came home earlier than I thought and I just just - don't leave"

"That doesn't make any sense" he said pulling you towards him. He decided to hold you while you sobbed. He thought of all the times he had cried that hard. Only once and that was after his mother died.

No one was dead and yet you were clinging to him like your life depended on it. Had someone come to the flat? Tried to bother you? Or get information on he and lemon?

He made some soothing noises then remembered what you used to say about your parents. You were the eldest and had a lot of responsibility.

"Are you upset because the kitchen was a mess when I came home?" He asked hesitantly.

"Obviously" You said loudly still crying.

"Right." He said staring at the ceiling wondering what to do next. "So, um. It's not really an expectation to have the kitchen clean or dinner ready."

You stopped crying and looked up at him.

"It's not?" Your breath was ragged and you were shaking.

"Nope."

"Oh." You seemed to calm down a bit before you started again. "But you do so much for me and I have to - I like to -"

"No-No no" He interrupted "My only expectation of you is to not cheat. Spend my money, read as many books as you want, never cook again. Just don't cheat and don't put yourself in danger. Ever." He was happy that you settled down a bit.

"Also while we are being honest, I hate that casserole."

You laughed. "I also hate that casserole. It makes Lemon happy though." Your voice was so tired it made his heart hurt. "Sorry for being so crazy."

"Not crazy, traumatized- most likely. But never crazy." He kissed the top of your head.

"I'm not good with yelling. I either freeze up or I get mean"

"I will keep that in mind, let's do take away." He got your favorite and let you mellow out on the couch. He felt like the right thing to do was to keep you close. Later that night you sort of opened up about always having to look busy at home. How you have a hard time relaxing.

"We could go on vacation?" He said with a smile. "I'm sure I can think of a few ways to make you relax."

You let out a laugh and he kissed your forehead.

________________

Hope that was alright!

[atlasscrumpit]

Priest Miguel x Demon Reader

(kind of explicit, but only sexual words, nothing physical)

Miguel helps a demon through a rough night by chaining her up in his church

Miguel had finished up service and was about to go pack up when he heard the door to the church slam open.

He looked up and sighed when he saw a familiar demon.

He didn't know why she kept coming back, but this time she looked in pain.

"Miguel! Do you have chains!" You shouted as Miguel looked at you with confusion.

"In my car, yes." He replied, as you stumbled forward.

"I need you to get those chains and fucking chain me to that pillar there." You said as he rubbed his head in annoyance.

"Why on earth would I do that?" He asked as you groaned.

"Please just do this for me! I will explain it once I'm chained up." You demanded as he rolled his eyes.

He left for a moment before returning with heavy chains.

You stumbled to the pillar and let him chain you to it, it was painful but necessary.

"Okay, now explain why you are in my church wanting to be chained up." Miguel demanded as he crossed his arms and glared at you.

"It's about to be a full blood moon tonight, which means mating night for demons. Which also means that any demons within 10 miles will fucking smell me and come and fuck me, which I don't want. But it also means I'm about to be so horny I will fuck anything. So, I need to stay chained up here until morning, other demons can't enter the church like I can." You explained as he looked at you in shock.

"There is so much wrong with what you just said." He muttered making you roll your eyes.

"I know! And it's about to get so much worse so you should probably leave." You said as he didn't budge.

"I'm not leaving, for all I know you could destroy my church." He grumbled making you groan in annoyance.

"Fine but don't hold it against me with the stuff I'm about to say or do." You muttered as you groaned and clenched your legs together.

"Fuck..." You whispered as Miguel looked at you in confusion.

"What are you doing?" He asked as you groaned in annoyance.

"Don't make me fucking explain why I'm clenching my legs together." You growled as a blush crept onto Miguel's face.

"Oh... You're um." He muttered as you rested your head against the pilar.

"Yes, I'm wet because it's...preparing for, you know." You replied as he nodded and sat down across from you.

"So, what have you done past blood moons?" He asked as you shuddered at the memories.

"Just let demons have their way with me... But I'm not letting it happen this time." You explained as you tried to calm down, your skin burning.

"They would just...do it? Even if you didn't want to?" He asked as you chuckled a little.

"Of course they did. They always do. And I usually lose control and beg for it." You whispered as you squirm in the restraints.

"You're burning up." He muttered, looking at you with pity.

"I'll be fine, it's going to hurt and I'll beg you to release me but I need you to promise you won't let me go no matter what. Please, Miguel." You begged with tears in your eyes as he nodded.

"I promise I won't let you go."

--

Miguel sat across from you reading a book as you moaned and squirmed.

"Do you really have to keep making those noises?" He asked as you whined softly.

"Come on, Miguel. Please just touch me... You can own me, claim me, you can be my master, I will serve you so well!" You begged as he looked at you in shock with a small blush.

"You should feel how ready I am for you to mate with me, I'm perfect, master." You whispered, your eyes hazy as Miguel ran to his office and grabbed his noise cancelling headphones.

He put them on before sitting back down.

--

After many lewd requests and begs, time kept passing.

Miguel was starting to get exhausted, it was only 30 minutes to sunrise and he could see how absolutely worn out you were.

The only thing stopping you from falling over were the chains.

He made his way over to you and gently held your face in his hand.

"It hurts so much." You whispered as he began to released you from the restraints.

He caught your body and picked you up before bringing you into his office where there was a couch.

He laid down and placed you on top of his as you cried softly in pain and exhaustion.

Your body began to relax as you laid on Miguel's chest.

"Go to sleep, Y/N. It's over now." Miguel whispered as he gently rubbed your back.

"Don't leave." You whispered making him smile a little.

After all of this he did feel quite sorry for you, he had seen what you had to go through everytime this happened.

Either go through excruciating pain or get fucked by demons that had no care for you.

He gently played with your hair as you fell into a deep sleep.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/N."

[ad-caelestia]

Common Misconceptions about Witchcraft

You have to be a Wiccan to be a witch

I literally thought this until I was 23 years old and started practicing magic again. It’s hard not to believe when nearly every book, guide, and tutorial you come across is geared towards Wicca. Wicca is a religion in which its followers may practice witchcraft. Witchcraft is a practice that may or may not involve religion.

Witches don’t cast curses and if you do, you’re a terrible person

No, stop. The idea that cursing is “bad” stems from the Wiccan “threefold law,” you know, the whole “whatever you do will come back at you three times as much” thing. Not everyone is Wiccan, not everyone follows that belief.

Witchcraft is a religious practice

Witchcraft itself has no religious basis. You can be pretty much whatever religion you want and still practice magic. You can practice witchcraft with no religious preference whatsoever. You can choose to work with deities, or keep your craft entirely secular. Up to you.

Witchcraft is the work of the devil and if you practice witchcraft you’re going to hell

A Christian concept and scare tactic. Not everyone is Christian or even believe in the Christian devil or Christian version of hell.

You have to dress the part

I practice magic in sweat pants and a t-shirt. I find that I work best when I am dressed comfortably, not in some flowy black dress and pointy hat. You don’t have to dress a certain way to be a witch or cast spells. Some witches or magicians have ceremonial clothing that is worn during various rituals but for your every day spell, it’s really not a requirement.

You can call yourself a witch without actually practicing witchcraft

No, I’m not referring to those with chronic or mental illness who practice magic in a minimalistic manner. I’m referring to those who call themselves a witch for the aesthetic and don’t actually practice magic. You don’t have to constantly do spells or even involve magic in your life on a daily basis but you do have to practice magic at some point in order to call yourself a witch.

Witchcraft is inherently dangerous

Practicing witchcraft itself is said by some to invite spirits and entities into your life that are sensitive to the energy we give off, but that may not be true for everyone. Learn how to protect yourself from these kinds of things and you’ll be golden.

You can cherry pick from closed cultures and use those practices in your craft

You don’t have a “gypsy soul,” pizza isn’t your “spirit animal,” having a bundle of white sage doesn’t automatically mean it’s a “smudge stick,” and you should probably throw away that shirt that says “namaste in bed.” A lot of terms we see folks using these days are being appropriated, at best. In terms of witchcraft, well yes, some cultures and religions are open or partially open but please don't disrespect those that aren’t just to sound trendy.

You have to choose one path of witchcraft and stick to it

You can incorporate many types of magic into your craft and it’s really not a problem. Some witches get overwhelmed trying to choose a “type” but it's not required, at all. 

You have to be a woman/straight/cis, whatever, to be a witch

Heck nope. Anyone can practice witchcraft and please don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

You have to be born into a family of witches to be a “true witch”

Witchcraft is a learned practice, not something embedded in our DNA. Even if everyone else in your family is a witch, you can choose not to follow that path. The same goes for those who don’t have any witches in their family history.

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 𝙰𝙳-𝙲𝙰𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙰