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mychlapci · 5 months ago

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The high council is probably perfectly happy to help turn Sentinel Prime into the Magnus’ pretty little wife, but only because they plan to use the technology developed for Evil. A way to turn mechs into happy, horny little baby factories without anyone noticing… a very successful propaganda campaign to convince mechs to have sparklings is about to come out, I’m sure. Just as soon as they confirm with the Magnus that the subliminal messaging works! For now, though, he’s “explaining” to Sentinel why he needs to wear the skirt.

Sentinel, of course, is not having it. Fussing and fighting (never quite shouting, no, never at his Magnus!) over how girly and pretty it is. When Ultra says “please, Doll, just try it,” Sentinel nearly gives in… but no! No, future Magnuses can’t be seen in swishy blur skirts that complement their lovely color scheme and barely cover their aft. Ultra’s frown makes his tanks twist, his datapad’s screen flickering to tell him how awful it feels to be a bad girl for his Magnus. Not that Sentinel notices. At the end of the day, both the Magnus and the pad have worn him down. He’ll just wear it one time so that Ultra can see how stupid it looks on him, and never again! Except…

“Oh, Sentinel, Doll, you look gorgeous!” As always, the trigger phrase turns him into a happy puddle of a mech, node pulsing behind his panel. Magnus can’t help but smirk a little, even as he beckons his secretary around the big desk to “get a better look.” Sentinel ends up perched on one thigh, blue skirt swishing against his panel as he tries to climb up by himself. His faceplates are hot with energon as he sits in Ultra’s lap, legs dangling above the floor as the old mech showers him with praise. That large, hot hand never QUITE going so far as to cup Sentinel’s aft or crotch, but certainly stroking at the fabric. He can’t stop thinking about his skirt this way, too lost in feeling the fabric against his increasingly warm modesty panel.

“Here, Doll,” Magnus says indulgently, “watch this and you can go sort your inbox like a good girl.” Sentinel opens his mouth to complain that he’s not a girl, but his datapad is already in front of him. Distracting enough to suck the words out of his mouth. It’s some kind of show? Looks like something some high society bot would watch, or maybe Sentinel’s old crechemaster. The mech on screen is going on about how important being clean and well dressed is to securing one’s image. Ah, Ultra must really want him to understand why he has to wear his pretty, frilly skirts… Well, Sentinel’s not… he isn’t… With the volume so low, Sentinel has to focus hard on what she’s saying to really hear it. Slipping into a trance as the hypnotic features of the vid go to work on Sentinel’s pliable mind. When Sentinel’s faceplate go slack, Ultra shifts from tugging and petting the fabric of the skirt to stroking the panel beneath it. Whispering in Sentinel’s deaf audials as he gets his “fashion tips” from what will soon be one of his favorite shows.

(I am shamelessly stealing the wifey hypno-shows from the Sunstreaker ask, bc I think they’re hot and bc I think the TFA’s autobot high council would absolutely be manipulative and evil enough to make and use them on the populace)

“What a pretty Doll you are,” Ultra rumbles as Sentinel starts to slowly, mindlessly grind against his hand and thigh, “that’s it, you love your new skirt. It feels so good to be my pretty little doll. You know I can’t keep my hands off of you when you wear your skirts.” And things like that, over and over, in Sentinel’s audial. The council told him it was important to make sure Sentinel overloads after these more intense sessions, to help everything sink in, so when that modesty panel finally slides open Ultra Magnus goes right to teasing that pretty orange node. He’s stroking and flicking it, teasing the wet valve lips as Sentinel grinds against his thigh. He holds his little secretary up through a powerful overload, still whispering about how Sentinel knows Ultra can’t stop staring at his skirts all the while.

Sentinel will come back to himself at his own little desk, datapad still in hands, and get right to work sorting his Magnus’ mail and keeping his schedule. He’ll be forced to admit to himself that the show has a point, fashion really does have a place in cultivating one’s image. And as a mech working so closely with the Magnus, as one who plans to be the next one himself, it’s very important that he looks pretty and professional. Of course, when he “realizes” that Ultra can’t stop staring Sentinel’s tanks will be doing flips. He’ll be rushing to get more skirts to look pretty for his Magnus, taking delight in planning his little outfits. Maybe Ultra has more episodes of that show? All Sentinel knows is that he wants more praise and more pats and pinches on his aft! It feels so good being Ultra’s pretty little Doll…

He inadvertently starts a fashion trend by wearing them in public and can’t stop preening about how influential he is already. By next week, Sentinel is painting the tips of his digits sparkling, optic-catching colors so Ultra Magnus will notice when he sucks on his little stylus suggestively. He can FEEL how hot the Magnus’ panels get these days when he sits on Ultra’s lap, swinging his dangling legs oh so innocently. Sentinel… Sentinel wants that, NEEDS it even! He’s so wet behind the panels at being such a good girl that he’s craving an overload. When he accidentally leaves a sticky patch of lubricant on his Magnus’ thigh, it’s only polite to clean it up. With his tongue. While staring up at Ultra. He can’t help the moan that sneaks free when the Magnus’ spike pressurizes right into his face.

His datapads were right—Sentinel really, really needed Ultra’s fat spike plundering his valve. He’s never overloaded so hard in his life! And his skirt bounced so prettily against his aft while he rode that his Ultra couldn’t help but fill his valve with hot, thick transfluids. One of the Magnus’ huge styluses had helped keep it all behind Sentinel’s panels until he could get home and wash it out. And if he’s licked and sucked the stylus clean, fingering his valve on the washrack floor that was his business. The spike he’d always used to prefer stays forgotten. His Magnus likes his Doll’s sweet pussy.

Ultra Magnus is nothing but a gentlemech about the incident! He remembers being so young and helpless to his instincts, after all. If Sentinel ever needs a break to burn off some charge, he need only ask. Sentinel’s hypnotic datapad is quick to teach him just what to say.

“Please, Ultra,” he whines desperately, “your pretty Doll needs you!” Sometime Ultra will have him lift his little skirt and curtsey, showing off a dripping panel or blinking node. But he always gets to cum on Ultra’s fat fingers a few times before that huge spike fills him up. Moaning like a whore as the tip stretches his valve, doing his best to take as much of Ultra’s spike as he can… Sentinel’s datapads are going to teach him to keep his valve stretched for his Magnus sometime very soon.

Ultra Magnus, meanwhile, could not be more pleased with the results. From mouthy, arrogant Prime to needy, slutty secretary in a scant few weeks. He’ll have his perfect little wife in no time, at this rate. And for now he’ll get to enjoy watching Sentinel’s slow slide into being his pretty Doll. Maybe he’ll have a false spike attached to the mech’s chair—a few hypnotic suggestions will have the mech thinking it perfectly reasonable. Sentinel mustn’t be so selfish! He needs to take his Magnus’ WHOLE spike instead of just squirting around the tip. Good girls need to share the pleasure. Good wives need wet, desperate cunts for their husbands. Sentinel will surely be much easier to deal with when he’s feeling empty and craving his Magnus’ cock. Perhaps a new show will help him learn that giving pleasure gives Sentinel pleasure.

Sentinel would be fussy at times, but since the hypnosis keeps him constantly thinking about satisfying Ultra Magnus, he cannot keep it up for too long. His libido will win, he’ll be nothing but a silly little doll with a wet hole that constanly needs to be filled by his darling Magnus. He’s right on his way to becoming a precious little baby-maker, obediently wearing those cute skirts he protested against, riding Ultra Magnus’s spike whenever he asks for it, and begging to suck on it when he gets horny.

Servicing him just makes Sentinel feel sooooo good <3

#valveplug #dubcon #wifefication #texty #hypnosis

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nejiverse · 2 years ago

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HOME ALONE

[Hayakawa Family series]

In which Power and Denji are left alone to take care of Yuna..

a/n: i saw somewhere in my inbox that someone suggested naming Aki and Y/n’s daughter Yuna meaning kindness so I did

cw: a bit of crack, Power and Denji

1k words

Denji whizzed around the room with Yuna on his shoulders, making airplane noises with his mouth as she erupted into a fit of laughter, giddily patting her small hands against Denji's head.

"Aaaaand we're landing!", he exclaimed.

The blondie swiftly landed on the floor on his knees, lifting the little girl up and down onto the floor as she gripped onto the short table to help her keep her balance.

She watched how Denji observed Power who had a confused look on her face as she stood in front of the sink so he decided to go check on what she was doing.

Yuna didn't like that though. She made grabby hands with her right hand but it was of no avail owing to the fact that Denji's back was already turned to her. Tears welled up in her eyes and she began to let out small fussy noises which made it evident to Denji and Power that she was about to cry.

"Aw c'mon Yuna! We've played airplane nine times already, please don't make it ten", he frowned. His neck was getting tired and so were his arms.

But the little girl wasn't having it. Her lips began to quiver and she let out sniffles.

"Just carry her normally idiot. I don't think she cares about the game anymore", Power intruded, inspecting the two containers she had in her hand. "Quick before the waterworks start!".

Denji sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knew it was unavoidable because every single time Yuna wanted to be carried, she'd follow him around like a little duckling. She always got her way, much like her mother.

He made quick work with picking her up and wrapping an arm around her legs, letting her rest her head on his shoulder happily.

"What're you doing?", he narrowed his eyes at Power as he walked over to her. "SERIOUSLY?! ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE THE CHILD DIABETES??", Denji screamed in her ear.

Power could only let out a hum of confusion.

"THAT'S SUGAR NOT FORMULA!",

She inspected the two tubs side by side. They were the same colour, how was she supposed to know?

"Do I look literate to you?", she rolled her eyes.

Yuna kicked her feet against Denji's side. She wasn't a fan of all the noise and would much prefer being put down to venture off elsewhere.

Denji abided to her whines of complaint and placed her on her feet, watching her waddle away to who knows where.

"You don’t have to be able to read to know that they both look AND taste different", he shook his head.

“Sugar, formula, what’s the difference honestly”, Power swatted her hand. They were both foods that could be eaten and shat out again so she was indifferent to them.

“Life and death. That’s the difference”, Aki was super overprotective when it came to his daughter. If anything was to happen to her while he wasn’t around, they two would never see the light of day again.

Speaking of Yuna..

"What have you done!", Denji gasped, terror taking over his face. He could literally feel Aki's wrath already.

The little girl was after messing with the buttons of the washing machine. How she made it leak water was beyond him.

She sat in the pool of water, cheerfully splashing her palms in the liquid. As she was about to put her wet hand in her mouth, Denji quickly stopped her and held her under her armpits as to avoid getting his clothes wet.

He looked at the girl with an unimpressed expression.

"Be honest with me for a second here...do you want your pops to kick me out?".

Power let out a scream and flung her arms around frantically.

"They're back Denji!", she belted as she furiously tried to wipe up the puddle of water.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!", Denji quickly went into Aki and Y/n'a shared room to look for a spare change of clothes for Yuna.

"They're good kids Aki, don't be so worried", Y/n clung to his arm and gave him a smile.

"You put way too much faith in them", he shook his head. As the two approached the door, Aki scoffed a laugh. "I'm surprised the door is still on its hinges". She playfully hit his shoulder as he opened the door.

Through the silent squeaking of the door opening, the couple were surprised to see Denji and Power sitting on their knees with their hands on their lap and a fake smile plastered on their lips, Yuna sitting in between them as she chewed on a teething toy.

"Welcome home!", the two said in unison which was beyond strange to Aki and Y/n.

Aki looked around suspiciously as Y/n approached the three.

"You two did an amazing job!", she ruffled their hair before picking Yuna up. "I hope she wasn't much trouble".

"No trouble at all..", Denji glanced at the washing machine briefly.

It was as if his eyes held some kind of power because just as he finished his sentence, water came gushing out from the bottom of the machine.

"Oh em gee", Power uttered.

Denji on the other hand was simply speechless.

Yuna let out a giggle at her mother's shocked expression. It was much like the funny faces she made to cheer her up whenever she was sad.

Power and Denji expected Aki to go off on a tangent about how irresponsible they were but he simply opened up the laptop that rested idly on the counter and started typing.

"What are you doing?", Y/n inquired.

"Looking for plumbing apprenticeships for these two", he responded.

Denji and Power turned to face each other. "WHAT?!".

hayakawa family series masterlist :)

a/n: it feels like forever since i’ve updated this series 😭

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kim2248 · 1 year ago

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Deeply curious about Ronin's reaction to Y/N's death pre-Skybound retcon ESP @/the other ninja *insert eyes emoji here because trying to add them locks my keyboard's typing ability* mayhaps I'm just wanting to cackle over their faces over discovering this money laundering headache of theirs that comes and goes morally ambiguously went through an "accidentally adopted a child arc" while they weren't looking

Ahhh my very first inbox message, thank you anon!

Just so you know, this one request sent me spiraling and writing an entire alternative ending to Season 6 where I guess Jay doesn't reset everything?? And plenty of father-child angst so enjoy!

///

''Took ya long enough, you missed all the fun.'' Ronin quipped after throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the approaching Jay.

''You find (Y/N)?''

The silence he was met with was enough to make him turn around again, doing a double-take as he looked at Jay's hollow stare and his blood-trenched gi, still red and wet in places, although some of it had begun drying and turned into a shade of dark purple. A beat of silence passed where none of them dared speak, even Nadakhan was silent.

''Jay.'' Ronin's voice was trembling. ''Where is (Y/N)?''

Jay wasn't answering. Ronin repeated his question with more emphasis, taking one step towards the Lightning Ninja whose eye's were still fixated on the ground. The thief felt his heart drop at all it could imply and before long, he was up and running towards the ruin of a building Jay had come from, his breath growing labored and eyes growing panicked as he quickly scanned the cracked pieces of concrete lying about.

Maybe they'd been hit by some of the rubble. Maybe they just had their leg stuck under some and that's why he couldn't find them. Maybe they were just unconscious and that's why he couldn't hear their voice anywhere. Maybe it was anything but what he thought it would be.

Ronin called out their name, hoping for an answer. Nothing. He made his way through the remains of the temple, jumping over what used to be a wall and entering what looked like a ceremonial hall. The ground in front of him was caved in and when he looked down, he felt his blood run cold in his veins.

He froze. There was no adequate reaction to what his mind had to comprehend. Quietly, he felt his conscience curse himself for ever growing attached to a stupid teenager that decided to squat in his flat one day.

Ronin had seen many dead bodies in his life; of his enemies, of strangers, of his dearest friend. But nothing seemed to come close to what he saw that day.

Their head was twisted to the side, Ronin thought if he'd had to see their face he actually would have started crying on the spot, their arms were splayed out on either side of them and a puddle of blood had started pooling beneath them, the rocks scattered around partly painted in bloody handprints and smears.

Whatever had happened to them hadn't been an accident. Someone had killed them. And whoever that someone was, Ronin would make them pay.

Meanwhile, outside of the building the remaining Ninja were growing more than concerned.

''Jay, what's going on, talk to us!'', Lloyd said and put a hand on his shoulder.

''It's…the…he-'', Jay stuttered as he looked down at his hands which were dark red from the dried blood. He could still see the live fading in their eyes.

''Ohh, I understand now'', Nadakhan throatily chuckled, ''My, what a conundrum that must be for you, Jay. Two people so close to you being at each other's throats, quite literally. Now, who do you care about more? You've already forgiven a killer once, haven't you?''

''Jay, what's he talking about?'', Kai asked next to him.

The ginger bit his bottom lip in worry and turned his face away from the other Ninja, fists clenched tight. His eyes landed on the Djinn Blade on the ground. Nadakhan must've dropped it when he was shot with the venom.

''Funny how much can change just because of one simple wish, isn't it, Jay? Say, I'm curious, which one made it out alive? My bets are on the dagger-wielding one, though I would expect they would have some qualms about repeating past mistakes-''

In a rush of anger, Jay picked up the Djinn Blade lying on the ground and struck Nadakhan mid-taunting-laugh with an aggravated yell. The Djinn turned into a little orange light as the grating sound of stone breaking shattered through the air and islands around them started to slowly fall apart.

Before anyone could get a word out, Jay was shoved around and seized by the collar of his shirt by an angry Ronin, lifted up until his feet hung a few inches above the ground. Behind him, Nya could be seen, eyes wide and still in her white wedding dress, though the hem of it had been soiled by the mud it had been dragged through.

''What did you do?! What happened in there?!''

''N-not me-'', he could barely get the words out in the chokehold Ronin was holding him in.

''Well who was it, then?!''

''Guys?''

Everyone turned around to the person that had spoken. 'The Ninjas faces dropped, Ronin let go of Jay out of shock who promptly fell to the ground with a quiet 'oof'.

''COLE!''

All the Ninja except for Jay rushed to hug Cole and bombard him with questions.

''I-it was him…he…killed them.'', Jay quietly said with hurt eyes, gently massaging his neck where the collar of his shirt had dug into. Ronin was the only one who heard it, but it was all it took for him to walk up to Cole and punch him square in the face, knocking him over.

Immediatly, Kai, Zane and Lloyd moved to stand in front of their teammate while Jay scrambled to get up and hold the thief back from punching him again together with Nya.

''OW, what is wrong with you, Ronin?!'' Cole yelled as he sat up, clutching his now bleeding nose.

''What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with you! You killed (Y/N) and you have the balls to just show up and let yourself be celebrated like some kind of deity returning from the dead!'', he accusingly pointed at the Earth Ninja on the ground.

The ground shook and a few more remaining islands started plummeting towards the ground.

''Guys, I think we better get out of here before the entire island comes down!'', Lloyd yelled.

///

Hope you enjoyed this! So yeah, basically Ronin gets really angry and starts physically assaulting people because do you really think that mf would express his grief in a healthy way? He would undoubtedly cry later once he can be 100% sure he's alone and then probably uproot the entirety of Djinjago's remains to find their corpse and give them a proper burial. Aaand then he would probably vow to never let anyone get close to him ever again. And maybe turn to some mild to severe alcoholism. We'll see.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #morro #fanfic #lego #lloyd garmadon #kai ninjago #legoninjago #ninjagomorro #ninjago nadakhan #ninjago jay #jay walker #skybound #ninjago skybound #ronin #ronin ninjago #opposites attract

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marciafogarty · 6 months ago

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“Mmm…” Marcia hummed appreciatively. “Good. I’m your slut, Daddy. Your little whore right now. No one else’s. Don’t want anyone else.” She rambled as he fucked her, not sparing a second thought on the implications of her words, mainly because she was so out of her mind with pleasure that she barely had the capacity for a first thought. Marcia giggled and looked back at him with big eyes. “They might spank me for not being able to cum when they tell me to, but it’ll be so worth it if I get to come to you afterward and let you do for me what they couldn’t.” Marcia grinned, loving that he was as into the ideas she was spouting as she was. “It’s not just an idea, Daddy. It’s the reality. You’ll see. Keep your i-inbox open ‘cause I’m gonna wanna read the hate mail you get from pissed-off boys who can’t get me to cum on their little cocks no matter how hard they try.” Then, she was cumming; hard, drawn-out, and would-be exhausting if she weren’t so insatiable. Slumping down into the puddle of her own arousal, she hummed blissfully, which changed to a protesting moan when he pulled out of her. “Hmph, Daddy! My pussy feels so empty now…” She pouted (playfully), but complied with his command without hesitation, bracing herself fully on her arms on the edge of the counter, her shaky legs doing next-to-nothing to help her stand up as she dragged her tongue through her cum, back and forth until it was as clean as she could get it. As she turned her attention to Nate, ready to announce that she was done - he was one step ahead of her, hoisting her effortlessly up into his big arms, her legs wrapping around his tapered waist - without thinking, she snuggled in against his neck as he hauled her over to the dining table where she landed with the happiest smile on her flushed face. He wasted no time, nor did he treat her any gentler given what she’d just been through - and she loved that. She reached up, dragging her nails down his chest and moaning as he filled her all over again, railing forward and bottoming out as if nothing had happened in the interim. “Mmm, much better, Daddy - thank you. Nope, I can’t get enough. Won’t ever. I hate when my pussy isn’t full of your cock.” She gasped and preened up into the slaps he dealt to her tits, her body seeking out the pain on instinct. “You could slap me anywhere and my pussy would respond, Daddy…” Marcia agreed, her hands wandering freely across his chest, one dipping down to his abs, the other wandering farther up to trace his sharp jawline and then thumb playfully at his sexy, bottom lip. “Mmm, you’re such a stud, Daddy…I love, love, love this view - it makes me so wet seeing you over me like this, being under you - right where I belong.”

"I'm possessive over you right now," He pointed out, listening to her raspy, panting words as she painted the hottest picture he'd ever heard. He did want that. It was ridiculous because when it came down to it, they knew literally nothing about each other other than what got them off. But he honestly hated other men being in her, making her cum. A part of him really wanted him in her mind no matter who she was with. He chuckled loudly, "Oh, we're gonna piss them all off. And ask me if I care," he growled. "I think you can get wet for them, but the idea that you need my command and only mine to be able to cum - fuck," he moaned loudly, another hard, determined thrust bottoming out into her at the pure idea of it. The kind of control she so easily lets him have swells inside him and when he commanded her to cum, she did, Nate growling at the mess she was making between them. "That's my little slut, cum for Daddy. No one can make you cum like me," he moaned, thrusting into her as she rode out her orgasm. Once her body relaxed he slipped out of her and slowly helped her down the counter and onto her feet. "Clean up your mess, slut," he commanded, walking to the side of the counter to watch as she hungrily licked up her cum off the counter. Once she was done, he grabbed her again, lifting her under her thighs and moving to the dining table, laying her against it on her back. He slid inside her again, gripping hard to her thighs. He gave her sensitive inner thighs a few slaps with a hearty growl as she clenched against him again. "Dirty fucking whore can't get enough," he moaned, hands traveling up her torso to her large tits, slapping them to watch them bounce against her body. "Your pussy squeezes every time I slap you," he chuckled hotly, "You're such a fucking dirty slut."

#f2f #f2f: nate mantle #nate mantle #facetime fun

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chattahoochiecoochie · 2 years ago

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Quality Time

Summary: Long hair Kimi. Braids. That's it.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Nonnie set my brain on fire yesterday and I already spend so much time thinking about Kimi with long hair, it was just natural that we would end up here eventually. This is set pre-togetherness if you're reading in chronologicalish order. Find the rest here.

She’s between emails when he finally cracks the bathroom door. Leisurely as ever, he steps back into the common area in a puddle, a towel draped haphazardly around his waist. Her fingers pause over the keys at the sight of him. A bead of water is dripping along the adonis belt she’s not convinced he’s earned the right to.

Focus.

She lets out a sound, clicking away at the keyboard to distract herself as he moves closer. From the corner of her eye she spots him reaching out. Past her. Laura lets out a breath, letting her gaze drift back to her inbox.

“Busy?” Alongside his raspy voice comes the crinkling sound of plastic. Before she can answer him, an ice cream cone is stuck beneath her nose.

“Very. Cleaning up after you is a full time commitment.” Laura looks up, tone biting out at the hand he’s offered her.

Her voice falters at the sight of him. The butterflies she’s been holding down seem to fly up into her throat. Fuck.

“What’d I do now?” He smirks down at her, lips spreading into a grin as he bites his ice cream cone.

“Nothing. Yet. I’m trying preemptive damage control.”

“I’ve been very good.”

“You’re eating the ice cream you got for me.”

“I like vanilla too.” He bites the ice cream again.

“You do not.” Laura swallows the butterflies in her throat. She does not at all mind the sight of his tongue swirling around the cone.

“You were being mean.”

“Was not.”

“Here, then.” He sticks his hand out again, a pitiful bit of ice cream left. Laura looks up at him sharply, watching closely as he licks at the bit that’s smeared on his lip.

“Keep it.”

He shrugs and—before she can catch herself, she glances down—catching the towel on his waist as it shifts beneath the movement he’s made. Double fuck.

“If you’re not busy,” He turns away, back to the freezer. “Would you?” He shakes his head lightly, sending beads of water flying through the room.

“Again?” She’s done it once already today, before free practice.

He turns to her, an ice cream in each hand this time. One for her, and another for him. His face is expressionless, as if he can’t believe she’d ask.

“Wet or dry, then?”

“Dry.” Obviously, his tone seems to whine.

Leaning across the couch, Laura sticks out her hand, waving her wrist as she waits for the bribe. Grinning from ear to ear, he tears open the plastic wrapper before setting it gently in her hands.

“Go get everything then.”

“Too hot?” She’s holding the hairdryer by its barrel, sweeping it over his head as she runs her fingers through his hair, weakly jealous at how fine it is.

He hums beneath her, his head shaking slightly., licking at his ice cream like a man in paradise as she dotes over him. Holding her own between her thumb and forefinger, Laura runs her pinky finger through his hair. She tussles the crown of his head gently, fanning the damp hair across the back of her hand as she works the dryer across it. It’s quick work, for hair so fine, but when he feels her pull away, his head rolls back. Resting against her leg he looks up at her, a frown starting at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s dry!” She bites at the ice cream cone, voice defensive.

Bringing a hand up, he grabs at her wrist, dragging her fingers down to the nape of his neck. It’s damp still, but barely.

“Kimi, seriously.”

“Laura, seriously.”

Fumbling with the dryer, she sets it to cold, delighted when he squeaks at the sensation. Pulling away from her, he lurches forward, doubling over himself as he shivers.

“Fuck, kultsi.” The sound is muffled by the towel as he speaks into it, shaking slightly still.

“Hair ties, please.” She pops the last bit of cone into her mouth and sticks out her hand, wiggling her fingers as she waits. He leans back slowly, hand trembling for dramatic effect as he places the plastic ties in her palm. “Thank you.”

She’s slower than this morning, taking her time as she parts his hair down the middle. She gave him french braids earlier. He claims to enjoy the feeling of them better beneath his helmet. With extra time now, and no car in sight, she has the freedom to practice her dutch braids.

Using her pinkies, she parts the hair for the first sections, sweeping the hair of his temple backward into her grasp. Beneath her, Kimi hums.

Speaking through the hair tie she’s holding between her lips she checks him. “Too tight?”

He hums again. She relaxes her grip, her wrist going slack as she lets up. No response. Better, then. She starts again. Pinkies out as she sweeps his hair back, over and over again. It’s sloppier than her french braid, that’s for sure. The raised hair is off slightly, one of the strands thicker than the others.

Grunting in frustration, she lets out a few knots.

“It was good.” Kimi tilts his head back, resting against her thigh as he looks up.

“You can’t even see it.” She mumbles down at him.

Wordlessly, he lifts a hand and reaches backward, tracing over the braid until he meets her hand at the halfway mark.

“Looks good.” She can’t quite see his face, but the quirk of his lip is practically verbal. A blush threatens to creep across her cheeks.

“You’re so annoying.” She’s out of breath as she says it, trying not to open her mouth as she laughs down at him.

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

Kimi hums again, this time sounding mildly annoyed. Laura smiles, lips spreading into a grin as she winds a tie around the braid that rests just above his shoulder. Dragging her fingers through the other side, she gathers herself to start the process over again, resigned to the butterflies that are all but flying around her head like a cartoon as he shifts between her legs. I’m so fucked, she thinks as his cheek sits on the inside of her thigh. So fucked.

#i jacked myself up writing this #smut is next because i think ive actuallly started to froth at the fucking mouth or something #chattahoochiecoochie writes #kimi fic #kimi raikkonen #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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yuujispinkhair · 3 years ago

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Winter! Hi hello darling, feels like an eternity since I've been in ur inbox so I've a thirst:

Imagine cockwarming sukuna as he sits on his throne like the king he is.

Thank you so much for this yummy thirst, Abby! I added Yuuji to the mix because I couldn't resist, but I know you love poly with Sukuita :) Let's say this is a movie night with Yuuji bae going a bit different than planned! Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) x Yuuji Word Count: 600 Warnings: 18+, smut, cockwarming, degradation, use of the name slut, light spanking, creampie, oral, cum-eating, poly. All characters are of age. This is 18+, minors don't interact.

Sukuna steals you from Yuuji during movie night. One minute you are cuddling with sweet Yuuji, the next, you are tumbling down into the Malevolent Shrine where your second boyfriend greets you with a devilish grin. You can still hear Yuuji complaining loudly, but Sukuna just laughs. "Don't be so selfish, brat! You had her all day. My turn now." Sukuna pulls you on his lap, greeting you with a savage kiss, and it doesn't take long before he pushes his thick cock into you, but when you moan and want to ride him, he presses a hand on your mouth and grabs your hip tightly with the other. "Shut up, and sit still! I want to watch that movie. You're just here to keep me nice and warm." He makes you just sit there, stretched open so deliciously around his big cock while he watches the movie Yuuji is playing in his room. Anytime you try to move, you get put in your place with a hard slap to your ass. "What did I tell you, brat? Stay still. If you aren't a good girl, I'll send you back and get the other brat. At least he is good at this." You whine in frustration but stop moving, only looking at Sukuna pleadingly. He rolls his eyes at you, always acting so annoyed, but you can feel his cock twitch inside you. You know he enjoys this, especially when you squirm and give him those puppy eyes. But he really makes you wait until the movie is over. He just keeps playing lazily with your nipples and your clit, teasingly slow, turning you into a horny mess while he watches the movie. "You're so pathetic, getting so wet for me when I barely touch you. Don't you dare cum before the movie is over!" But it's so hard to hold back, and by the end of the movie, you are breathing heavily, and your pussy is leaking so much cream that there's a little puddle around the base of Sukuna's cock by now.

Of course, he mocks you for it, fangs grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispers to you: "Now, will you listen to that..." And then he grabs your hips tightly, lifting you up and then letting you fall down on his thick cock again with a loud squishing sound. "Sounding like such a slut." You moan loudly, your whole body jerking uncontrollably, and Sukuna laughs. "But that's what you are, aren't you? My little slut, huh?" Your reply turns into an unintelligible moan because Sukuna decides at that moment that the cockwarming is over, and he rather wants to fuck you into oblivion now.

He rams his cock into you, strong hands holding you in place as he snaps his hips in an unrelenting hard pace until you fall apart on his thick cock, crying out his name. Sukuna sends you back to Yuuji with your pussy leaking his cum all over the bed. "Clean up that mess, brat. She can't go to sleep like that." And Yuuji is happy to oblige, rolling you onto your back immediately, and the next thing you know is that your sweet boyfriend is eating your mean boyfriend's cum out of your pussy. It takes two more orgasms until Yuuji's done with you and the two of you snuggle up to each other under Yuuji's blanket, cuddling and sharing slow kisses. You're about to doze off to sleep when the mouth on Yuuji's cheek opens in a smirk, and you hear a whispered: "Sweet dreams, my brats."

#sukuna x reader x yuuji #sukuna x reader #yuuji x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #yuuji smut #yuuji fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #tw degradation #itadori smut #itadori fluff

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years ago

Note

Dom Harry not letting reader to cum😩

mixed with this request: thigh riding with harry

also mixed with this request: hi can you do harry james potter x reader and they have mirror sex??

pairing: harry potter x reader

warning(s): 18+, light dom/sub roles, thigh riding, edging/orgasm control, mirror sex

a/n: requests are still closed while i catch up on my inbox but enjoy!

You couldn’t stop the whimper that came from deep within your throat when you felt Harry’s hands grip your hips tightly, forcing you to stop your movements.

“Harry, please,” you begged, breathless and unashamed at just how disheveled you sounded. It wasn’t like he couldn’t see how desperate and delirious you were.

“You know the rules, love. You look away and you stop. Now be a good girl and look at yourself, yeah?” Harry asked, his voice much softer than his rough demeanor.

You had to brace yourself before you looked back up. When you did, a moan slipped from your lips just at the sight of you and your boyfriend.

You were facing the mirror, nude and straddling one of Harry’s toned thighs. Your skin was flushed and it glistened with a sheen of sweat. When you locked eyes with yourself, you couldn’t help but notice just how glazed over they looked thanks to the seemingly endless edging your boyfriend was putting you through.

But it was him behind you that made you moan.

His hair was disheveled, as always, but especially now right after a Quidditch practice. He was still fully dressed in his Quidditch robes, having rushed straight back to the dormitories to play with his favorite girl. And the wet patch on his thigh, right underneath your pussy, was drenched beyond repair.

Harry slowly began moving your hips again, rubbing your clit perfectly along his pants. He knew exactly how to work you up, and this time you were determined to not take your eyes off the mirror.

“Just like that, love. Look at how desperate you are. You’d do anything to cum right now, wouldn’t you?” He asked, and you already knew he knew the answer.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you moaned out breathlessly, barely allowing yourself to think of all the filthy and humiliating things you would do just to be able to cum right now. Your brain was far too wrapped up in your body's growing need, the coil inside your stomach growing tighter and tighter with each graze of your clit.

“Keep your eyes up,” Harry reminded you softly, his lips latching onto your neck as he worked your body against his.

You knew you were begging by the time you reached the peak again, plea after plea falling from your swollen lips. You could see your lips moving in the mirror, but the overwhelming sensations across your body blocked the noise from your ears.

The only thing you could focus on was Harry’s voice in your ear, giving you the permission you had been sorely waiting for.

“Cum for me, love. You’re doing so good. I got you,” he said, gently feeding you the praise and encouragement you needed to slip over the edge.

Keeping your eyes locked on the mirror, you came with a jolt and a scream. You watched as your body jerked in Harry’s tight hold, your limbs shaking as he worked you through your release. You watched as the damp spot on his pants grew into an overgrown puddle, the damage incriminating. Most importantly, you watched as Harry’s gaze turned so full of lust it was overwhelming.

Slowly, he dragged you to a stop, not once letting go of your tired body, and moved you until you were laying down on the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“That was beautiful,” he commented sweetly, but the dark look in his eyes told you that it would be the first of many brutal orgasms of the night.

#Harry Potter #Harry James Potter #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter headcanon #harry potter drabble #harry potter imagine

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bratkook · 4 years ago

Text

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: none this chapter. word count: 2.8k author’s note: this chapter is on the shorter side, just diving into them meeting and giving you all a small glimpse into them as individuals! im really excited for this story so let me know what you think, feel free to scream about anything in my inbox bye ily lmao summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

Yoongi loves the rain, really he does. The way the clouds gloom over the city, encompassing it in this darkness that reminds him of underexposed film. He wishes he could always see the world through this filter, always smell the scent of wet soil and tarmac as he makes his way through the streets. Something about hearing the soft patter hitting the sidewalk, bouncing off the rooftops and dripping from the gutters calms him. A soft smile spreads across his face as he exhales the smoke in his lungs, letting the stick hang loosely off his lips while his hands clutch onto his umbrella.

When he stomps his foot into a wide puddle, the cold water splashes up onto his ankle and he grimaces. He hates being caught in the middle of rain. It didn’t matter if he had his umbrella or not, or if he managed to bundle enough for the downpour, he hates stepping into puddles and getting his socks wet. Hates how some of the raindrops that slipped under his umbrella—since it was now raining sideways—have managed to make his cigarette slightly soggy.

Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth this time, he holds it in front of his face with a frown. It was halfway done but no longer burning properly due to how wet it had become.

What a waste.

As he passes a trash can, he stubs it out fully and tosses it inside, a small pout on his face at the loss of something to fidget with. But then he sees the glowing sign inching closer, the bright neon yellow standing out in the grim weather. The illuminated Rkive360 in the distance stops him from slipping out another smoke, choosing to stuff his unoccupied hand into the pocket of his jeans, moving his legs a little faster to get to his destination.

The bell at the top of the door jingles as he stumbles in, his foot tripping over the small lip of the mat by the door. That was a safety hazard he’d playfully bitch to Namjoon about later.

“Yoongi, hey!” When he balances out, closing his umbrella and giving it a good shake by the door, he looks up and grins at Taehyung. He spots him standing by a flat spread of clothes a few feet away, folding out some new items as he stares at Yoongi with a genuine smile. His curls flop over his eyes and Yoongi chuckles to himself as he wonders how a guy like him was here folding shirts when he should probably be the face of Gucci or something.

Well, that’s life.

“Hey man,” Yoongi mumbles out, his eyes catching the plastic bin beside the door that’s labeled ‘umbrellas here’ in a messy scribble he can only attribute to Taehyung. Not needing to be told twice, he sticks his dripping umbrella upside down into it and shuffles inside the shop, taking a minute to look around like he always did.

Record stores have always been his safe space, even as a teenager. The amount of time spent in one after school, loitering inside with his friends as he sorted through the racks of CDs and vinyl, exiting with his bag of new goodies that left him excited to get home and play them. It was god sent that his best friend decided to open up his own place years ago, keeping it fully stocked with anything he could imagine. Maybe Yoongi was a little biased, but this was definitely the best shop in the country.

It’s a welcoming place, pops of color in every corner, tall standing sculptures mixed in with displays of music, autographed albums and posters framed onto the wall behind the counter. It’s the full embodiment of his best friend, down to the tiny KAWS figurines perched beside the register and the music playing through the speakers. The small melody in the background fills his ears once the door is shut, recognizing the song playing as Dang! by Mac Miller and he bobs along as he approaches Taehyung.

“Quick question,” he starts, his hands coming up to shake at his gray hair that was slightly damp from the rain. Taehyung sets the shirt down, resting both of his palms on the table as he leans towards Yoongi with interest. “Any chance you guys miraculously got Seventeen Seconds in your stock this week?”

Taehyung hums in thought, his brows furrowing together as he tries to mentally sort through the massive boxes of new vinyl Namjoon had brought in a few days ago. New shipment comes once a week but every now and then Namjoon goes out of his way to find specific records, never missing with his selection.

A small flash of blurry trees crosses his mind and then he's smiling at him. “Yeah, we actually got it the other day. Pretty sure Namjoon hunted it down for you since you’ve been asking. It should be in the back.” His thumb points behind him, towards the display tables that held all the LP’s available at the store, a very familiar spot.

Yoongi mumbles out a thanks as he makes his way over, eyes already locked onto the bin that he knew would hold his prized possession. It’s not until he gets a few feet closer that he sees your crouched frame over a box, figure slightly hidden by a giant CD rack. You’re rummaging through the records, almost making him flinch when you quickly stand back up and find their proper spot in the display. You don’t notice him approaching until he’s right beside you, eyes once again glued to the bins lined in alphabetical order once the initial shock of another person subsided.

That’s when you give him a glance, sending him a soft smile as you slip the record in its rightful spot, crouching back down to grab the next bunch. His hand pauses on the edge of the bin at the glimpse of something familiar, momentarily distracted by your shirt. When you stand back up, feeling him staring at you, you slowly turn to face him once more with your eyebrows raised up in question.

He takes note of the tag clipped to your shirt, it reads Sana but he’s used to dealing with Sana and you are definitely not her. You’re new.

The smile remains on your lips as you rest your hip against the edge of the table holding up the record bins, preparing to put your best customer service voice to use. His eyes glance at the writing on your shirt again, cracking a grin when he confirms it's a New Order shirt tucked into your black jeans. “You like New Order?”

Your smile falters slightly, your arms crossing in front of you as you narrow your eyes at him in defense, not entirely sure how to take his tone. “If you’re about to ask me to name five of their songs I’ll have to walk away to avoid getting fired.”

His smile widens at that, soft and gummy, breaking his cold appearance as his arms raise up in front of him in surrender. “No, just an observation.”

Your demeanor softens again, your arms sagging back down to your sides and smiling once more. “Good, it's my first day on the job and I’d really like to keep it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, going back to his searching for his precious album, leaning over the third bin dedicated to bands starting with the letter C. His nimble fingers flip through the LPs until he gets to the Cure, sorting through Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, passing Pornography until he reaches Wish and his brows furrow, flicking back and forth as if the album he wanted would magically appear.

“Need help finding something?” You speak up again when you take note of him sorting through the same chunk of vinyl. He grunts lightly, letting the stack slant back in a heap as he purses his lips.

“Yeah actually, Taehyung said you guys got the album Seventeen Seconds but I don’t see it.

You step back from reorganizing the bin labeled S, trying to remember if you had brought the record out or if it was still sitting in the second box ready to be unpacked. Your brain was already overwhelmed from all of the information you had been given on your first day, trying to unscramble the entire backroom and it’s countless boxes—most of which were unlabeled because Taehyung said it’s not necessary since he knows where everything is.

Much like Taehyung, you recall seeing a flash of the album cover when you sorted through the new box of records, knowing exactly where it was tucked away since you had been the one to store it. You were under strict orders to not put it out on the floor, because according to Namjoon, if someone else took this album you’d be attending his funeral.

“Oh, uh gimme a sec.” You shuffle away, leaving him behind as you approach Taehyung, still folding away. “Hey, Tae?”

He hums in question, turning to stare at you with a small smile. “Whats up?”

“That guy is asking for Seventeen Seconds but Namjoon told me he’d be murdered if I gave this out to anyone.”

Taehyung starts laughing instantly, setting the shirt down as he stares at a confused looking Yoongi still standing by the LP’s. “Yeah, he was saving it for him specifically.”

“Got it, okay. Thanks.” You make a beeline back to the tables at the back, passing Yoongi with a polite smile. “Be right back!” you exclaim, wagging your finger at him as you make your way towards the back room, clearly on a mission.

Yoongi just stands there as you enter the employee stock room, not trying to cross any professional lines and follow you since you have no idea who he is. It's only a few feet away and you left the door propped open so when a few minutes pass and he hears rustling, followed by a heavy sounding thud and some curse words, he can’t help but wander over and peak his head in.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face when he sees the way you’re frozen, one foot on the ledge of the shelf and the other on a not so sturdy looking stool, caught in the act of a poorly made decision. Below you lay two brown boxes that carry shirts you’re meant to unpack later, definitely the cause of the loud thud he had heard.

“Yep,” you confirm as you pluck out the record you need, shoving the box back into its safe spot and hopping down haphazardly. “Here you go.”

Grabbing the record carefully, he flips it over to skim the track list and smiles widely when he looks back up at you. That familiar warmth fills his chest as he holds the new item, making him feel the same way he had as a teenager when he bought his first LP. He had been searching for this vinyl for months now. It wasn’t as if it was no longer in production, he just couldn’t seem to find it in stock anywhere he looked and buying it internationally was the last resort he would take since the shipping fees were downright illegal. “Thanks.”

You’re already hunched down on the floor as you open up one of the boxes that had fallen in your haste to scale the shelves, deciding to just unpack in now since you were here.

“Yeah, no problem. Tae can ring you up at the front.” Sending him off with a smile and a wave, he takes that as his cue to exit, making his way to the front again.

When he leaves the backroom you flop onto your butt with a huff, your legs sprawling out with the second box in between them. You were hoping your words didn’t come across as rude to him but you couldn’t take the way his sharp eyes stared at you. Had he lingered any longer you would have embarrassed yourself, it was a miracle your footing hadn’t slipped on your way down from the shelves. You can’t imagine your ego being able to recover from a tumble like that.

Taehyung spots Yoongi leaning against the front counter, setting the final shirt down and going to stand behind it with a smile. “Did you find everything okay?” he asks automatically, the general phrases they had to use coming out without a thought and Yoongi scoffs, sliding the record across the counter and nodding.

“Of course I did, you let Namjoon know that I said your customer service is unmatched.” His finger gently rubs against the first black KAWS figurine, smiling at the remaining four as he remembers how Namjoon had excitedly told him that this was their friend group, representing them all perfectly.

Taehyung grins with a roll of his eyes, scanning the album and slipping it into the brown paper bag they provided. “Wonderful. Your total is 40,000 won.”

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

Taehyung laughs now, his nose crinkling up at Yoongi's sarcastic tone, watching how Yoongi grins back at him, succeeding in getting him to crack. “Fuck you, man.”

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi hums with a chuckle as he pulls out his wallet, sorting through his bills and handing them to Taehyung. “Who’s New Order girl?”

Tae raises his brows as he enters the amount into the POS, the drawer popping open against his hips. “Oh, Y/N?” Yoongi only shrugs, you had Sana’s name tag on so how the hell should he know.

Taehyung stuffs the money into the drawer and slams it shut, ripping off the receipt from the machine and slipping it into the bag. “She just started today, can’t remember where she moved from, some place far though.” He shrugs as he hands the bag over to Yoongi.

The older boy ruffles his damp hair up, accepting the bag with his right hand. “Oh, cool. Well thanks, I’ll see you guys later then?” Taehyung just waves him off with a smile, similar to the way you did and he laughs to himself when he realizes Taehyung must be the one in charge of training you.

As he approaches the front door he pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, sliding one out and slipping it between his lips. He finds himself looking towards the back of the shop again, seeing you resuming your organization, but your head lifts up as you feel him staring at you from his spot at the door. The spark of his lighter flashes across his face when he lights up his smoke, opening his umbrella once more now that he's partially outside. When your eyes meet, he smiles around the stick, giving you a nod before turning and walking back out into the rain.

You watch as his figure disappears down the street, his dark silhouette blending in with the rest of the people roaming the city, and when you can no longer see him through the store window you turn towards Taehyung. He’s stood at the POS, fidgeting with the screen, but when you call his name he glances up at you. “Is he a regular?”

He nods in response, eyes going back to stare at the screen as he begins to print out a sheet to fulfill the online orders the store received. “Yeah, he comes in at least once a week. Buys strictly vinyl. I think Namjoon mentioned he’s a music producer, or maybe it was a DJ, I can’t remember.”

Taehyung evidently doesn’t have the best memory, that much had been made clear in the short span you’ve known him. He had forgotten your name twice during your interview, Namjoon having to subtly repeat it for him, he had also asked you three times where you were from and at first you thought he was joking but when his face remained serious you realized he had really forgotten already.

“Hey, where’d you move from again?” he asks one more, genuinely curious as if you hadn’t told him a handful of times already.

“I told you, Iceland.” It’s a lie, but when he hums in thought—pretending to suddenly remember—you chuckle at the newfound way to mess with him.

He’s quick to start questioning you about Iceland, nodding along to the lies you spill while you both go back to your tasks of sorting albums and folding shirts. It makes your first full shift eventful, passing jokes back and forth as the sky grows gloomier. As distracting as your conversations get, you can’t help but glance up through the windows whenever a dark clad figure walks by, the thought of the sharp eyed stranger lingering in your mind.

#min yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fics #bts imagines #new #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #heartsforbts #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner

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its-kall-the-clown · 3 years ago

Text

Submitted by @twitchyglitchy: don't know if you meant submit as in send something to submit or to just wait for the askbox to open back up but when you get the time perhaps #41 with fatherly Sun Wukong and MK?

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Sorry, I was opening up the inbox again but then I walked away to get a snack, and then three people submitted this way. So sorry! XD

I think this could be considered the unofficial prequel to THIS and THIS Explains how MK got sick

prompt list

Blurred Lines

Rated: G

Wukong held out his hand a few drops of rain starting to fall against the palm of his paw. He looks up with a frown, the sky's overhead grey with the promise of rain. Judging by how dark the clouds have become in such a short time looks like they were in for a downpour.

He opens his mouth to tell MK their training was over for the day but found he was having to dodge a staff hurtling towards him. Apparently, the kid had not noticed the rain yet or was looking to take advantage of how distracted he was for an easy win.

He smirks shifting to one foot easily, completely dodging the attack, MK expected the blow to land and found when it didn't his balance was off. That was something they really needed stonework on, his balance. It's like MK was compensating for missing weight in his body, he wonders if maybe if MK grew a tail that problem would magically resolve itself.

MK topless forward onto his face and rolls a few feet, till he's laying on his back with a groan.

Monkey king saunters over to the boy a few more drops of rain hitting his fur as he walks.

"Good job today, I think we need to work on your balance though." He offers a hand out to MK who smacks it away and stands up on his own with a grunt. That.. .was unusual. The boy always had a pretty good attitude even when he lost. Never a sore loser when they sparred.

"Again." MK grunts our whipping his nose off on his sleeve with a determined look. The sky above them rumbles with a warning and Wukong's face twists down in a frown. Something was brewing and it wasn't just the storm.

"Let's call it a night kid. It's gonna rain soon." A few more drops fall against his fur and face and MK shakes his head back and forth, droplets flying from his hair. No way the kid didn't notice.

"No we can train a bit longer, rain never killed anyone." He smiles, already taking a challenging stance. Wukong crosses his arms over his chest and feels a tail-flick behind him.

"Not a chance. We're done for today."

MK lets out a sigh and leans against his staff side-eyeing him.

"Hmmm...never thought the great monkey king was afraid of a little water." MK smirks and Wukong stiffens under the jab. His fur bristled under his insulted pride and he smirks back at MK with his tail swishing behind him annoyedly.

"Fine. Smartass. We can keep training but don't come crying to me when the heavens open up." His eyebrow twitches, taking up a defensive stance ready for whatever the boy would throw at him.

Almost as if on cue, the sky opens up and it's a downpour. He opens his mouth to tell MK they couldn't train in this but MK is rushing forward with a war cry on his lips Wukong barely has any time to react dodging and blocking a flurry of blows.

"Mk stop! It's pouring!" He tries to reason with MK who only steps forward into a strike, Wukong barely has time to grab the staff, halting it from bashing his face in. He didn't want to do this, he always goes easy on MK so they could slowly build up to his level, but at this point, the boy wouldn't listen to reason.

He grabs the staff and digs his heel into the ear and shifts his weight. He flips MK over his body slamming them hard into the earth..he hears MK let out a gasp of pain and he worries he's actually hurt the boy.

"Kid oh my gosh! Are you ok-" he reaches for MK who looks stunned on his back looking up at the sky with wide eyes, water dripping down his face and mixing with the earth.

"You have been...holding back on me" MK whispers out his face scrunching up in what could only be described as pain and betrayal. He sits up with anger on his face

"You don't even use all your strength on me??!!!" He yells at Wukong who's now getting a turn to be stunned.

"Well...of course not bud. I don't want to hurt you." He looks soaked to the bone now shivering, his hair hangs limp while his clothes stick to his body.

"That's not fair!!! How can I get stronger if you aren't even trying to train me!" He yells shivering again. Even Wukong could feel the rain soaking his fur and making his clothes heavier.

"Come on MK….I'm doing my best to train you."

Wrong choice of words.

MK's face becomes vacant and broken. Tears now pouring down his cheeks and mixing with the rain.

"What, so you're saying it's MY fault?? That I'm u-untrainable??!" He yells, gripping his hair and tugs.

"That you're doing your best because it's so hard to train me? Cause I'm a failure??" Thunder cracks after a flash of light only serves to illuminate the look of betrayal carved into MKs face.

"Kid stop!" He grabs the boy by his shoulders trying to stop him from spiraling.

"You're doing AMAZING. Your progressing faster than I did at your age. But you GOT to keep in mind that it takes time to get where I'm at." MK sniffs his lip warbling and Wukong grabs his hands to squeeze it reassuringly.

They are shaking like a leaf and are ice cold in his grip.

“Your hands are so cold!" He rubs them together between his paws trying to warm them up. He brings the hands to his mouth breathing hot air into them. It seemed content productive with them standing in the rain.

"Come on. Let's get you inside and dried off, you will catch your death out here." MK nods numbly and Wukong leads him indoors to his stone house where a few monkeys have already holed themselves up for the storm. They chitter and shrieks of concern from the monkeys greet his ears as they fret over both their king and their quote-unquote 'brother'.

Wukong ushers MK to his bathroom where he throws a towel over Their head and tries to absorb all the water that his mop of a head consumed. MK just stands limp allowing him to dry his hair. It's concerning that he hasn't even let out a squeak since they came inside.

"MK…." He pulls the towel away to look at their face. Indoors now, out of the pelting rain, it's so much harder for MK to hide his tears. His cheeks are puffed out and his eyes are red as a constant stream drips down his face and chin adding to the puddle on the floor steadily.

“I just want to do better….be strong like you.” MK’s eyes flit to wukong guilty before looking away to his soaked shoes. It shoves a wedge between Wukongs ribs painfully and presses upward threatening to separate ribs from the flesh.

"Look at me." Wukong titles his chin up forcing Expresso's eyes to look at him.

"You're doing amazing. I want you to know that. Every day you surprise me who how much you have learned. " He explains and he sees the boy's chest hitch slightly another batch of tears joining his.

"I'm very proud of how far you have come." He smiles at the boy whose lip warbles again. A sopping wet body slaps into his as ML throws his arms around his chest and buries his face into his wet clothes. At first, Wukong has no idea how to react, his arms hovering over the wet form but when MK squeezes him tighter he is prompted to wrap his own arms around the boy. He runs his fingers through the wet locks and tries to warm them up with his body. Subconsciously hai tail finds MK's ankle and wraps around it as if he was trying to get every possible grip he could on the boy. He lets out a soothing purr on his chest as if he's coddling his own child instead of his successor.

At this point how could you tell the difference?

The line has been slowly blurred over time like rain against sidewalk chalk to the point he had no idea where he stood on which side.

At this point he couldn't be bothered to care. Which terrified him.

He pulls away eventually but his tail remains around MK's ankle.

"You should head home, you need to change out of your wet clothes so you don't catch a cold. Okay?" He asked, offering a lazy smile to MK who seemed marginally better and lips quirked with a shy smile.

"Okay. Can we still train again tomorrow?" They asked sheepishly and Wukong ruffles the top of his head

"Sure can bud! Bring your A-game because you moved up a level tonight and it's gonna be a bit harder." He smirks again and his words only seem to encourage. MK smiles brightly now, eyes shining with the promise of more difficult training.

"Can't wait!" He beams pulling away already and shakes like a dog adding more excess water to his bathroom floor.

"Okay okay, that's enough. Get on outta here. And take care of yourself."

MK salutes as he backs away from his mentor..

"Sure thing!"

Wukong walks him to the door his tail only letting go of the boy's ankle when he finally is driving away on his noodle cart. He waves to the boy something warm newly sprouted in his chest. The line between mentor and father figure blurring a little more

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #Prompt ask #writing Prompt #MK #Wukong #Wukong acting like a dad #oops posted before I finished sorry #submission

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clubyukhei · 4 years ago

Photo

wayv react series: tiktok couple pranks

ten, sicheng, yukhei, dejun, kunhang, yangyang

genre: suggestive fluff

a/n: this has 1.4k words which is... way longer than planned :’) i had a bit too much fun writing this lol. enjoy

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:30PM]

you might think i'm crazy

the way i've been cravin

if i put it quite plainly

just gimme them babies

“you okay, kun-ge?”

“i am. why would i not be?”

“you look… tense.”

“i’m fine, sicheng.”

the exchange makes you bite the inside of your cheek. you bite down on it hard and will yourself not to smile — but it’s so hard not to. especially when you catch the look of mild annoyance on your boyfriend’s face. the way he’s trying so hard to play it cool.

so you glue your eyes to your phone and scroll through your inbox, pretending to be occupied. pretending you have no idea what’s going on.

“oh. okay.” sicheng replies meekly, moving to the kitchen where kunhang and ten were opening a few tubs of ice cream.

to no one’s surprise, the conversation ends there. nobody ever questions kun after they hear that tone of authority in his voice — but maybe, you’ll be the first to.

the night started out like any other movie night at the members’ dorms. as per usual, dinner was settled over multiple deliveries from their go-to food spots. but everything changed after yangyang left the dining table as soon as he was done eating.

“yangyang.” kun called out with a rather strict tone, his voice echoing throughout the apartment.

“yeah?” the youngest member yelled from his room.

“come here.”

you weren’t new to the responsible and occasionally hard-headed side of your boyfriend. it was pretty normal for you to see him nag at the members for being untidy at home and occasionally, for not behaving professionally when they were outside.

after all, he was the leader of six boys who stressed him out on a regular basis — one of whom was the same age as him, yet regularly participated in the mischief with the others.

but this time was different. you never heard him speak like that before, never even seen the look of seriousness on his face that was intimidating even to you, an innocent bystander witnessing all of this.

you didn’t want to admit it at first, but his voice, which was stern and commanding and had the youngest member scattering back into the kitchen in seconds, turned you on like no other.

everyone else minded their own business as kun eyed the spot on the dining table that had been covered in tiny puddles of soup. not a single word was uttered but yangyang, whose eyes kept flickering between the mess he had created and the leader’s jaded gaze, quickly grabbed a wet cloth from the sink and got to cleaning.

you were parched just watching the scene unfold. you and kun had only started dating a few months ago and you were still learning new things about him, but this was truly something else. a pleasant surprise, if you could call it that.

kun has always been a sweet and reliable man in your eyes, and still is. but you’ve never pushed his buttons or experienced the side of him you saw this evening. the side where he uses that tone. preferably when the two of you are alone, when every word that leaves his lips is heavy with authority and dominance that you find yourself listen to every instruction he gives you, like getting on your knees—

“_____?”

you look up from your phone to see ten staring back at you from the kitchen counter, waiting for an answer. shit. you definitely did not catch what he asked. out of all times to fantasise about your boyfriend…

dejun, who’s sitting on the floor in front of you and searching for a movie on netflix, turns around. “he asked if you wanted mint chocolate or strawberry.”

“mint chocolate is absolutely disgusting.” yukhei comments, accentuating the last word with abhorrence. the tall boy plops onto the ground next to dejun with a small bowl of strawberry ice cream in one hand.

“oh.” you hum. “strawberry it is. thanks, ten.”

your phone vibrates the second you finish your sentence, frightening you just a bit. when you see the latest notification on your lock screen, a familiar rush of excitement washes over you again.

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:50PM]

😡

you chuckle to yourself quietly at his reply before taking in the look on his face. his hair, dyed light brown just a few days ago, falls over his forehead and almost hides his eyes — but you don’t miss the way he’s staring at you with an eyebrow raised confidently, as if daring you to continue whatever you were doing.

it’s too much. you find your cheeks flushing a little and you quickly look back to your phone, rereading your conversation with him.

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:30PM]

you might think i'm crazy

the way i've been cravin

if i put it quite plainly

just gimme them babies

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:33PM]

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:35PM]

baby you might need a seatbelt when i ride it

i’ma leave it open like a door

come inside it

even though I'm wifey, you can hit it like a side chick

😙

can you stay up all night?

fuck me till the daylight

34+35

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:45PM]

?!?!?!?!?!

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:49PM]

means i wanna 69 with you 🙄

“what are you smiling at, _____? is it those tiktok pranks again? i was telling yangyang the other day that we should handle our tiktok page ourselves. i mean manager hyungs will never allow that of course, but right now we’re not even doing the cool stuff…”

as yukhei blabbers on, you watch your boyfriend get up from the armchair he had been curled up on and make his way to his room. that’s your cue to leave.

“make way for the ice cream truck!” kunhang sings as he carefully sets a tray of small bowls, all filled with scoops of green and pink coloured ice cream, onto the coffee table.

“actually yukhei, you can have my ice cream.” you say, getting on your feet.

“really? thanks!” yukhei smiles as kunhang lets out a loud “huh”.

“wait, are you guys not joining us anymore? we’re watching harry potter tonight!” dejun yells.

“again?” ten sighs. as you walk down the hallway, you hear him whine about something along the lines of watching another movie for once.

your hand reaches for the handle of the door to kun’s bedroom, but it swings open and an equally shocked yangyang rushes out as if he wasn’t supposed to be there — even though it was his bedroom too.

you step into the quiet room, shutting the door behind you before turning around to the sight of kun sitting on the edge of his bed relaxedly, his palms flat against the mattress and his legs spread a bit further than usual. there’s that look on his face again.

“hey.” you say softly, not sure how to read him.

“really?” kun lets out a tiny chuckle.

“what?”

“don’t act all innocent now.” he whines. “you were asking me to hit it like a side chick, baby. and 34 35, whatever that means.”

you burst into laughter. “it means we should 69. or do i have to explain what that means as well?”

“god.”

“i’ll let you do anything to me. and i’ll do anything for you.”

kun groans, running a hand through his hair. that image alone makes you want to rip the white t-shirt off him and to pounce onto him.

there are a lot of filthy things you want him to do to you. for now, you’ll have to settle for less.

“this is a really sudden, baby. but i’m not complaining.”

the grin on your face softens into a smirk as you saunter over to him, casually lowering your knees by his sides and planting yourself in his lap. someday he’ll find out what sparked all of this, but not today.

“i said a lot of things, you know. where should we start?”

he stares back at you incredulously — and yet, his hands are kneading the inside of your thighs. just as he’s about to reply, a bunch of knocks on the door steals both of your attention.

“are y’all joining us or not?”

it’s ten, who already sounds tired from being surrounded by his younger brothers.

“we’ll join you guys a bit! go ahead and start without us.” kun shouts.

you turn back to smile at him suggestively, resting your arms on his shoulders and gently massaging the nape of his neck. when he plants wet kisses along your collarbones and up to your jaw, you sigh in satisfaction.

“let’s start by locking the door.”

#wayv scenarios #nct scenarios #kpop scenarios #kun scenarios #kun x reader #kun fluff #kun imagines #wayv kun #qian kun #wayv imagines #wayv fluff #wayv x reader #kpop fluff #nct fluff #kpop imagines #nct imagines

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years ago

Text

Better Now

A Bla/ck Tap/es podcast sickfic.

I have so many wonderful prompts in my inbox but the only thing I wanted to write was this wildly self-indulgent and overly long fic that's jam-packed with all my favorite tropes. I blame @matilda3948 for her recent amazing Dr. Strand sickfics for inspiration and @sanquintina for getting me into the podcast in the first place

This is technically Bl/ack Ta/pes fanfic, but you don't need to know anything about the series other than Dr. Strand is a persnickety, serious, stoic, skeptic with a very deep voice and troubled past.

Set after the end of the series as it stands currently and written in 1st person from the perspective of Strand's unnamed female partner. Could be Alex if you want, could be someone else with whom Strand finally found happiness and contentment. I kept that part generic on purpose.

Richard Strand is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them. So naturally I had to go investigate when early one morning I was startled by the sound of a tea mug shattering on the floor followed by a hastily bitten-off swear word.

In the kitchen I found my husband, the world renowned Dr. Strand, kneeling on the floor mopping up spilled tea. He glanced up with a sniffle as he heard me approach.

"Had it too close to the edge. At least it missed my pants. I think I got all the ceramic bits, but be careful."

His voice was even deeper than usual, low and gravelly from the cold he'd been developing over the past few days. That, paired with his heavy, reddened eyes and generally haggard appearance, gave me concern.

"You look like you hardly slept. How are you feeling?"

"I tossed and turned a bit last night. Couldn't get comfortable."

"Couldn't breathe I think would be more accurate. You were snoring and breathing through your mouth all night."

He sat back on his heels and frowned. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm just worried about you," I added as he winced when he stood, massaging the space between his eyebrows.

He shot me another irritated glance. "I'm fine. I just have a bit of a cold." I couldn't help but notice the weary slump of his shoulders, however. Even his suit looked less crisp than usual.

I summoned all my wifely tact and tried to make my voice persuasive: "Maybe you should stay home. You don't look like you'll be much use to anyone today."

He made an annoyed sound. "That's very unnecessary. I'm not staying home for a cold."

I looked pointedly out the window where a chilly November rain was pouring down steadily. "You really want to go out into that when you have a perfectly valid excuse not to?"

He too glanced out the window. After a moment he shook his head and cleared his throat, meeting my eyes again. "I'll be fine. It's just a little rain."

He headed toward the door, massaging his forehead once more.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Oh, right." He whirled around quickly, grabbed the thermos, and headed toward the door again with a wet sniffle. I could only roll my eyes and sigh as the door closed behind him.

Most workdays I left after him and returned before him, and this Thursday was no exception. The rain was still pouring down when I arrived home from work that evening. I decided dinner was going to be vegetable stew and biscuits, not only for his cold, but also because I wanted some rainy November comfort food. Everything was nearly ready when I heard him coming up the steps. He opened the door, bringing with him a chilly gust, and I turned to greet him, but instead my mouth dropped open a bit at the sight of him.

His hair and clothes were completely soaked with rain, to the point of dripping puddles onto the floor as I watched, and he was visibly shivering, something I'd never seen him do before. Inexplicably, he was also shaking the loose drops off of his soaked umbrella, his expression drawn and miserable. I was noticing how diminished he seemed when suddenly his breath hitched violently:

"HehZIHH'shiew! HrrUUHHZchoo! HehhGIHH'nkkchoo!"

I rushed to his side, relieving him of his umbrella and briefcase and pulling his sodden coat off of him as he slumped down onto the nearby stool. Beneath the coat, his suit was nearly just as wet and cold.

"Oh, Richard, bless you! You're soaked to the skin. Ugh, and your hands are freezing. How did you manage to get so drenched?"

"A w-woman and her ch-children were w-waiting for the b-bus without c-coats. I held my umbrella f-for them until it c-came," he said, his teeth chattering and his lips blue with cold.

I toweled off his hair and clothes as best as I could before helping him undress. Any other day he would have brushed me off, saying he was perfectly capable of doing that himself. The fact that he allowed me to assist him spoke volumes to how poorly he felt.

I was behind him, trying to peel off his sodden linen shirt when he lurched forward for another volley of sneezes:

"HrrUUSCHH! HnnxXT! HHGGTchh!"

"Bless you again, poor love. You've made your cold worse going out in this," I gently chastised.

"I'm f-fine," he sniffled, still barely able to speak around his shivering. Yet he leaned back against me wearily as I removed his undershirt and replaced it with a blanket, and I thought I heard the softest hint of a groan.

I used my fingers to comb his disheveled hair, but frowned when I felt his forehead. "You're running a fever. You weren't feverish this morning."

He merely shrugged, wordlessly asking me to continue massaging his scalp, which I did. Slowly his shivers subsided, but he was clearly exhausted, and sniffled wetly every few moments.

"You look like you could use a hot drink and a warm bed," I said eventually.

"I'd start with a hot shower," came the mumbled reply.

"Hmm… what about a hot bath? I was thinking of taking one myself tonight, and I'm willing to share. No reason to waste the hot water. Dinner will keep for a bit longer."

He turned slightly, giving me a curious look. It wasn't that we had never bathed together before, but it was usually under very different circumstances. However, I happened to know my husband craved physical touch when he wasn't feeling well, though he would never ask for it. I was simply making life easier on both of us by preemptively offering it.

"I suppose that might be nice," he finally said. "But I'm very tired…."

I kissed his cheek. "No strings attached. Bath only. Then dinner and sleep. No funny business, I promise."

He relaxed slightly. "That's fine then."

"Good. Let me go run the water." I kissed his hair once more, then headed to the bathroom. He joined me there with a cup of tea after a few minutes. While the oversized tub finished filling, he leaned in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and looking distant and hazy, not to mention sick.

I shimmied off my clothes and slid into the water, gesturing for him to join me. He sluggishly obeyed, hampered in finishing his own undressing by his dripping nose. He set his mug of tea and a handkerchief on the little table beside the tub, then slid into the water in front of me.

His sigh of ecstasy as the hot water surrounded him was exactly what I hoped to hear, and he leaned back against me readily with a satisfied groan.

"Better?" I murmured in his ear.

"Much," came the rumbling reply, followed of course by a sniffle.

I pressed my lips into his hair again and again. He hardly moved as the heat soaked into him. I let my nails trail all over his skin and gave him a gentle massage, trying to help him relax, a feat he was rarely able to accomplish on his own

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" I murmured after a while.

He gave the barest nod in reply. Wordlessly I did just that, something else he would never consider allowing in any other circumstance.

I kept the soap far from his face, but the fragrance still had its way with him. I had nearly all the suds rinsed out when he suddenly jerked forward and leaned over the edge of the tub.

GihhIIISSHH'UH! Hhigg'CHUH! HihYEHSH'ooo!" He directed the spray as far away from me as he could, grabbing for the handkerchief to catch as much of the mess as possible. He mopped his face with a growl as he slid back into the water, but the spell was broken. He fidgeted against me, sniffling in irritation again and again as I finished rinsing his hair.

I suppressed a disappointed sigh. "You might feel better if you went and laid down now that you're warmed up. Get yourself a bowl of soup while I finish up here."

He grunted his assent, lifting himself out of the water and quickly toweling off as he began to shiver again right away. He donned his robe, took his tea, and went to get his supper.

The evening came to a quick close after that. Richard ate a small portion of soup, drank two mugs of tea, and refused any medication, but did little else. He wouldn't be described as loquacious on his best day, but he spoke even less than usual. The only noise he made was the occasional soft cough or explosive trio of sneezes and his perpetual sniffles as he attempted his usual evening reading. His eyes never lost their weary, hazy look though, and he was constantly shaking his head or wiping a knuckle under his nose, so I wondered how much he was actually absorbing.

When I suggested we go to bed, he didn't argue though, which was very unlike him. He fell into bed wearily, and it seemed he was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. I silently wished to myself as I drifted to sleep that he would either be recovered in the morning, or else have the sense to stay home if he was worse.

~~~~~~~~~~

Richard's alarm went off at the usual hour the next morning, and he shut it off right away. Normally he was out of bed in moments, but today he lingered, pulling the blankets closer around himself with a little groan.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he continued to shift restlessly. After a moment, I heard him take a wheezy inhale and then break into a coughing fit, wet and hoarse. I turned to look at him again. He was on his back now, with an arm flung over his eyes.

"Aww, love," I murmured. "You ok?"

"I'm not feeling quite like myself," came the mumbled reply.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, letting my hand rest on his neck where I could feel his hugely swollen lymph nodes. He was well and truly sick now, and he needed to stay home from work. However, I couldn't be the one to suggest that, or else he would turn me down immediately and insist he was fine, as he had the day before. It needed to be his idea. I went with a different approach.

I nestled close to his side, kissing his shoulder softly. I could tell he was still feverish even through his clothes. "Busy day today?" I murmured.

He grunted wearily. I couldn't tell if it was affirmative or negative.

"I packed a big bowl of soup for your lunch. I hope it's enough to keep you full through the whole day. And don't forget, I'll meet you at your coworker's reception tonight. Was there anything I needed to bring to that?"

He slowly uncovered his face. "I was… actually considering staying home from work. It shouldn't be busy today, I can afford to miss. And… I'm really not feeling well at all. I'll make our excuses to John about his reception.

I did a silent victory dance in my head. "Oh, are you sure? I thought you had some important meetings."

"Nothing that can't be rescheduled." He cracked a red eye open, glancing at me suspiciously. "Why? Do you want me to go in?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, kissing him again. "I want you to do what you think is best. If you're not feeling well, you ought to stay home so you don't risk getting other people sick though."

"I suppose." He coughed hoarsely again, rubbing his chest with a grimace. "Yes, I'll stay home today. Let me call Carol and John."

He slowly stood and made his unsteady way to his phone, sniffling and coughing the whole way. The two phone conversations were very brief, for he hardly had to try to make a case for his illness, congested and hoarse as he clearly was. After he finished the calls, he shuffled back to bed immediately, heaping the blankets back over himself with a shuddering cough. I rubbed his back as he got settled.

"Can I get you anything, hon? Water, medicine?"

He shook his head. "Going to try to sleep this off," he mumbled, sleep already (or still?) heavy in his voice.

I knew medicine would almost certainly help his endeavors at sleeping. At minimum it would improve the quality of his sleep. However, I also knew he was stubborn about such things, so I didn't press the issue yet. "Alright." I kissed his hot cheek gently. "Then I'll leave you be for now. Let me know if you need anything. Sleep well."

I made the bed around him, straightening my side and tucking him in, then quietly left. The sound of his deep snores followed me out. So much for me sleeping in today.

He emerged again later that morning. I didn't notice him at first when he did, though. I had my headphones in and was dancing around while dusting. Turning around, I almost bumped into him, scaring us both. I yanked my headphones off right away, taking in his disheveled, sickly, blanket-wrapped appearance.

"You're awake! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come out."

"Clearly," he rasped with the tiniest ghost of a smile. "You stayed home too?"

"It's my normal Friday off."

"Right, right," he sniffled. He then shuffled to the couch, collapsing onto it with a yawn. I went to sit beside him, unable to keep the concern from my face. I felt his forehead again, noting how he wearily leaned into the touch. I was forced to jump back though as he erupted into a volley of thick, chesty coughs.

I sighed, surveying him with worry. "You're running quite the fever, love. And the cold has obviously settled into your chest now too."

He nodded limply with another sniffle.

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, I'm giving you medicine and you're going to take it."

He managed to fix me with a condescending look. "Medication for a cold is essentially pointless. It just treats the symptoms."

"You think making yourself more comfortable is pointless?"

He opened his mouth to answer, or so I thought, but instead he lurched forward into a trio of wet, spraying sneezes:

"Heh'YEISSHH'oo! YEEIISH'uuh! Gih'HIH-shoo! --ugh…" The forceful snapping motion of his head when he sneezed looked incredibly painful, so much so that he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead with a groan in the aftermath.

"Bless you, hon!" I waited a beat as he composed himself. "So… what was it again you were saying about the futility of treating the symptoms?" I asked, admittedly snidely.

He only grunted softly. I couldn't keep the smug look from my face when he met my eyes once more. However, seeing how thoroughly miserable he was reawakened my sympathy immediately. I reached out to caress his hair and cheek yet again.

"How about I make you some tea, yeah? And maybe a bowl of soup?"

"Please," he mumbled.

"Coming right up."

Another round of his thick, exhausting coughs followed me into the kitchen, and I couldn't help but wince in sympathy, even though he couldn't see me.

In a matter of minutes I had his meal ready. When I brought it back out to him, I placed the soup on the table and dropped a handful of pills and a capful of medication beside the bowl with a meaningful look. His only reply was a small frown. I resumed my seat beside him and was about to hand him the steaming mug when an idea occurred to me.

"Is your throat hurting badly?"

He nodded heavily with a little scowl, as if he hated being reminded of it.

"Here, this may help a bit." I raised the mug to the level of his neck, pressing it against his visibly enlarged lymph node.

His eyes widened and he half-jumped back from the initial sensation.

"Trust me for a sec," I said gently, placing it against the swelling once more.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but allowed it. After a moment though he visibly loosened. Making a sound between a whimper and a groan, he leaned harder against the heat.

"Better?"

"Mhmmmm," he sighed.

After another moment I switched to the other side of his neck and repeated the process. He angled himself here and there to get the most heat coverage over the tender areas. Finally I slid the mug into his hands, kissing his forehead.

"Thank you," he breathed. "That was… relieving."

"You're very welcome. Now, can I do anything else for you at the moment?"

"I'm fine. You don't need to fuss."

"I may not have to, but I want to, first because you're my husband and second because I know you're not 'fine.' But if you're going to insist you are, I'm going to go fold some laundry. Holler if you need anything. Or cough loudly if that's easier."

That earned me a Dr. Strand signature, the 'amused huff.' "I will. Thank you again."

"No thanks necessary." He received another kiss to the temple before I stood and headed to the laundry room with a last pointed look at the medicine. It occurred to me as I walked away that I was likely giving him an overabundance of kisses considering how contagious he clearly was, but he was just so darn pitiful.

Twenty minutes later, I returned to check on him, bringing a glass of water as well. The tea mug and soup bowl sat empty on the coffee table, surrounded by a few scattered tissues. The medicine was untouched. The doctor was huddled to one side of the couch with another tissue held loosely in his hand and one pajama-clad leg tucked under him, staring listlessly at the wall. However, at the sound of my footsteps he stirred with a sickly sniffle, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. I smiled in greeting, and though he didn't return the smile, he did brighten a bit upon seeing me.

"What were you contemplating so deeply just now? You looked very lost in thought," I asked, handing him the water, then tidying up his little mess on the coffee table, leaving the pills.

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking self-conscious as he fiddled with the glass. "I was actually imagining how extensive the trial and error process must have been to determine how best to brew tea versus brewing coffee versus, for example, brewing beer. Roasting the ingredients versus drying versus fresh versus ground and boiling versus steeping versus fermenting. The amount of time that must have been necessary to perfect something so simple is rather astounding," he rasped, with many sniffles and throat-clearings thrown in.

I raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Aimless ramblings about random topics were not the norm for my painfully disciplined husband. "It is astounding I guess. I'd never thought about that before. Anyway, how are you feeling after eating?"

"I'm fine," he said, finally setting down the untouched water, though the nasty cough that immediately followed his statement contradicted him.

This time I audibly sighed. "You do realize that you saying you're fine all the time is very counterproductive to helping me assess your needs? You don't have to be fine, love."

He gave me an odd look. "Conceptually, I know that. But you have to remember, for a long time I *did* have to be 'fine.' I didn't have the option to be otherwise. You, all of this… still feels like a new development or a dream at times. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

I sat on the arm of the couch beside him. He wordlessly leaned in toward me so I could lightly run my fingernails over his scalp. He softly groaned in pleasure.

"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you that I'm not going anywhere and I'm here for you, because you already know that. So I suppose I'll just have to keep showing you."

I went to press a kiss to his head, but I caught a glimpse of his face and changed my mind when I saw he was about to sneeze.

"Gihh'chuuh! Hehh'choof! Ghnxt'choo!"

The sneezes were brisk and wet and left him breathless. He blew his nose with a wince before he spoke. "Sorry, could you repeat that? I missed most of it," he said, sounding stuffy and a little peeved.

I chuckled and complied, going for the kiss this time. He had no reply, but instead leaned against me wearily as I massaged his neck, yawning deeply.

"You should rest again, love. Take a nap if you can. It's either that or watch TV, which you'll never do. I'm not sure you should attempt much else."

He wrinkled his nose. "I hate being so unproductive. I don't want to sleep the day away."

"Sleeping when you're sick isn't being unproductive, it's being wise."

"HehhGIH'choo! HEHHH-choo! Hihhh'YESSHH'uuhh!"

I was quite sure he didn't hear most of my statement, since he sneezed right in the middle of it. With a pitiful sound he tended to his nose yet again as I blessed him earnestly. Eventually his watery, heavy lidded eyes met mine. I couldn't help but notice yet again how flushed and disheveled he was and how utterly pathetic he looked, quite the opposite of his usual cool, collected self.

"Guh. Sorry. What was that?" he asked with a pathetic sniffle, sounding very annoyed now.

"Aww, your nose. You really are sick, huh? Poor guy," I said, continuing to stroke his hair.

He looked slightly offended. "You were having doubts about that?"

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "It's just something you say, dear.

"I'm aware of the colloquialism," he grumped. "But I find it a very odd one. And it's never been directed at me before."

"There's a first time for everything, then."

I was rubbing his back now. He yawned again, grimacing after, I assumed due to the sore throat. I also noticed he was starting to shiver.

"Ok, now seriously, tell me what I need to do to convince you to nap."

"I'm not sure," he said with a chesty cough, nestling deeper into the couch.

"Hmm. I accept that challenge."

"And what challenge is that?"

"You won't tell me what I can do to help you, and perhaps you don't even know yourself, so I have to figure that out for both of us."

"I don't think there's anything I need though."

"You need to sleep."

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, but I could tell he knew I was right.

I stood and went to put some smooth jazz on the record player in the room. Sitting down again, this time on the couch on the other side of him, I gestured to my lap.

"Come lie down."

"Wait-- lie down… right there?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Because you love hair scratches and neck rubs, so I'm making it easier to give them to you. Also you're apparently freezing and need to share some body heat."

He frowned, suppressing his shivers as best he could. Still, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long, tired and miserable as he was. Sure enough, after a moment he slowly levered himself down with a resigned sigh.

I quickly threw a blanket over him, and then began the hair scratches. He made a tiny, appreciative sound.

"Better?"

"Mm," he grunted.

"Good. But you're sweating, love," I murmured.

"I'm not sure how since I'm freezing," he mumbled with a cough.

"Your fever is higher. I can feel it just by touching you."

He groaned, snuggling deeper against me.

I massaged his neck for a while longer, trying to ease the tension from his muscles. He continued to be restless though, and apparently unable to regulate his body temperature. One moment he would be shaking with chills pulling the blanket closer, and then the next kicking it away from his legs with a moan of discomfort.

The final straw for me was when he was overcome with yet another hacking coughing fit, curling in on himself miserably, trying to muffle it into his arm, the other hand clutching his chest.

Before he settled again, I leaned forward to grab the untouched pile of medication and glass of water from the coffee table. When he was again lying against me, I wordlessly held it out to him. He of course made a sound of irritation.

"Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep, and you can't sleep in the state you're in, at least not well. This will help your headache, fever, sore throat, everything so you can rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

After a final moment of consideration, he held out a reluctant hand. I handed him the items and he swallowed them without comment.

Neither of us spoke again for a long time, and didn't move from our places. I soothingly stroked his hair or rubbed his back, putting myself in a trance almost as much as him.

I could see the medication talking effect. His restlessness slowly eased along with his coughing. It seemed I could even feel his body temperature decreasing.

"Hnnkkt'CHUH! Hehgg'CHUHH! EHHG'choo!"

Just as I thought he was asleep, his body twitched with a trio of sneezes, the quality of which could only be described as lazy--slow, thick, and dulled. They hardly seemed to stir him from his stupor.

"Bless you. Are you ok?"

" 'm fine," he croaked tiredly. We were both quiet for a while, then he spoke up again. "You know, one of the reasons I keep saying I'm fine is because I can't begin to describe what an improvement it is to be with you while being sick compared to being sick in bed alone. The difference is as drastic as night and day--better doesn't begin to describe it. Asking for anything more than what I already have just by your being here feels selfish."

Richard would never express such sentiments under normal circumstances, and hearing it said so plainly overwhelmed me with emotion. Yet I knew he wouldn't want me to reply in kind. He would prefer to state his piece and let it be. And indeed, I saw his eyes drooping heavier by the second, so I kept my thoughts to myself for now, but leaned over to plant a series of kisses all over his hot face.

He hardly moved and didn't respond even when I finally stopped, but I couldn't help but notice the tiny smile playing around his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

#Sickness #sicknario #sickfic #snzblr #snzario #snzfic #everyone is hotter with a fever

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luminecho · 3 years ago

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Okay so I found it and turns out I wrote a mini fic about this. Huh

It had started with something strange. "Vio" appeared, limping and tired, he looked like he would colapse at any moment. Green worried over him, and he offered him support and a potion, but "Vio" refused, looking at the red liquid with disgust and a hint of fear. Vio had never refused medicine before. "Vio" muttered something about not having time, and he gave him instructions of how to find Vatti and defeat him. Blue appeared in a corner, Red right behind him. And then another Vio. By the time Green and the others turned to look at Vio, "Vio" was gone.

The colors thought nothing of it, thinking some sort of divine entity had helped them, just like Miss Fairy, but Vio did.

By the time they had found Vaati, they realized he was strong. Far too strong. Nothing they did could even put a scratch on the beast. The air was thin and thinking was hard. It all took an unexpected turn when a loud, echoing shattering of something made the Wind Mage scream in pain and indignation. Defeating the beast was a thousand times easier then.

Ganon was a piece of cake compared to the Mage. The colors celebrated and jumped and hugged each other, but Vio was not as happy. He looked scared. Green called out to him, just like Vio had done in the beginning of their adventure, but something was off in Vio's eyes

And, almost like he hadn't processed his question, he ran

He breezed through maze like corridors and jumped down stairs and there was a desperation in his eyes and Green realized he'd never seen someone so scared. The colors followed him through traps and hallways and took every twist and turn, until they came across a small room.

Vio stood in the middle of the messy room, black, shattered glass spread out everywhere in it, there was an empty, ornate, dark frame, and the broken remains of royal like chair. The room was dark, the colors could barely see what was inside. Vio muttered under his breath, pacing while taking in the scene- he was looking for something, anything that could indicate what happ-

There was a wet splosh. Vio stepped on a small puddle of black blood. He panicked even more. Soon, he found a small chess piece, he shook his head like he didn't believe it. Later, he found a crocheted dragon plush, his lip wobbled. Then, he came across an earing, a beautiful amethyst, his eyes watered. After, he stepped over a small piece of paper, and as he read the contents over and over again tears begun to stream down his face. Blue carefully made his way to Vio, and slowly put his arms around his shoulders. Red was close behind, murmuring reassurances. Green took a moment before he stepped into the room, glass crunching under his boots. He didn't know what to do, so he just hovered, waiting for a signal to do anything.

Over Vio's shoulder, he read the note.

"Dear Nerd,

Hey, so, I guess if you're reading this I'm dead. So like, don't go looking for me or whatever. I'm not good with words, so- just know I forgive you, 'kay? You can keep these, I've got no one else to give them to, so like, I don't know, do whatever you want with these.

I'm not sorry

Love, Shads"

- Dusk

OW??? DUSK HOW DARE YOU PUT A WHOLE ASS FICLET INSIDE MY INBOX AND IT'S JUST PAIN AGFKHJDEEHKFJE

#/lh #MANNN #//#major character death cw #angst cw #long post #answered echoes #fic rec #i mean basically. it's a ficlet so yeah i can put this here lmao #dusk anon #four swords four braincells #fs #four swords

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sickly-qt · 4 years ago

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Andy, I would love to see more sick, miserable Max. I think there was a snippet where he was sick in a hallway, back when the rose 🌹 game was happening? Is that still in the works? (I know I've often started writing fics that don't work out in the end, so it's all good if it's not!) Hope you're doing okay 🖤

I doing pretty okay! I haven’t been in too much pain lately so that’s a plus, I hope you’re doing well too! I also hope you enjoy sick and miserable Max. (i have another request for him in my inbox so you’ll be seeing even more of him soon)

This also turned out really long so I’m putting it under the cut...

Warnings: Descriptions of vomit and general illness, mild mention of medication (literally one sentence.)

Max had become basically a permanent fixture in the Paxton house. For the past week and a half he had spent all but one night sleeping on an air mattress in Julian’s room. No one minded as he clearly was avoiding something at home and he was a good kid who didn’t really bother anyone. His parents had offered them money for groceries and other expenses their son could have been wracking up at the Paxton’s, but they had declined. Julian and Max didn’t eat much in the house anyway and if anything Max helped more around the house than Julian did. To be blunt, Mila liked him.

“Should we wake them up?” Remy asked, looking into Julian’s room over Mila’s shoulder.

“No, they should be okay. What can they do while they’re both sound asleep and the door is open.” Mila leaned back into Remy and pulled his arms around her. “Jules said that Max wasn’t feeling well earlier, I guess he was put on new meds or something and he has some weird side effects. Sleeping in the same bed for a night isn’t going to hurt them, Sweets. Let’s go to sleep, I’m tired.”

Mila barely got through half a chapter before she began to doze off, waking up when the book dropped onto her lap. She closed the book and set it on the side table, turning off her lamp and laying down. Remy had laid down, rolling over and pulling Mila close to him when she finally relaxed.

“Goodnight, baby.” He muttered tiredly.

“Mm, goodnight.”

Mila woke to a commotion in the hallway. She sat up, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.

“What was that?” Remy asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“I don’t know.” Mila responded.

They sat there for a second, waiting. Everything was quiet before someone broke out into coughs down the hall.

“I’m going to go see what’s going on.” Mila said, sliding out of bed and wrapping her robe around herself.

“Wait, I’ll go with you.” Remy said, getting out of bed to follow her.

She walked out into the hallway and switched on the light. Max was standing in the hallway awkwardly. One arm wrapped around his stomach while the other one was held out, vomit dripping from his fingers into the puddle on the floor.

Max looked up when the light turned on with teary eyes, “I’m so sorry.” He whispered before clamping his hand over his mouth as he gagged again, vomit dripping from in between his fingers.

“It’s okay. You’re fine.” Mila soothed, walking over to him and placing one hand on his shoulder to steady him and the other rubbed up and down his spine comfortingly. She looked at Remy with wide eyes not quite sure what to do.

“Do you think we can make it to the bathroom?” She asked, gently.

Max nodded, holding his soiled hand out away from his body.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up. Remy, can you handle this?” She motioned to the mess in the hallway.

“Yeah, just get him situated.”

She ushered Max into the bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub. There was vomit on his shirt and hand, probably from trying to stop himself from being sick.

“Do you still feel sick?” Mila asked, trying to start a casual conversation as she wet a washcloth in the sink.

Max didn’t answer, instead he was staring at his hands in his lap.

“Max?” Mila said gently, crouching in front of him, “hey, how’re you feeling?” She grabbed his hand and cleaned it with the washcloth.

He finally looked up at her, a flush painted across his cheeks either from fever or embarrassment.

“Not great.” He said quietly.

“Yeah, I think I could’ve put that together.” Mila smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m really sorry. I totally understand if you want to call my parents to pick me up.”

“At 2:30 in the morning? How about you just lay back down and try to get some rest and we’ll see how you’re feeling in the morning, okay?”

Right then there was a light tap on the door and Julian peeked his head around the door.

“Hey.” Mila said, turning around.

“Hi, Remy said that you might need a change of clothes.” He said awkwardly, holding up a t-shirt in his hand.

Max looked down at his shirt which had spatters of sick down it, before he looked back up at Julian and nodded timidly.

“I’m going to go and see if Remy needs help, let me know if you guys need anything.” Mila said, leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Julian handed Max the shirt and watched as Max just held it in his hand.

“Sorry for puking in your hallway.” He mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay, I puked when I was at your house that one time I had food poisoning. We’re even now.”

Max nodded slowly, staring at the shirt in his hand. “Yeah, I guess.”

Julian sat on the lid of the toilet, leaning down so he could see Max’s face, “Are you okay?”

“Well, I just threw up in your hallway and woke up your whole family at three in the morning. I still feel like I could puke but yeah, I’m just peachy.”

“Max, it’s fine. You can’t help that you’re sick, and no one’s upset with you. Besides, you didn’t wake up everyone. Leah’s still sleeping.”

“That’s very comforting, thanks.” Max gave a small laugh and stood up, taking off his shirt and pulling Julian’s over his head. It was a little baggy on him which Julian found cute.

“Stop pouting babe. If anything they’re all worried about you.” Julian stood and pulled Max into a hug, which Max melted into gratefully.

“They shouldn’t be, I’m fine.” Max mumbled into Julian’s shirt.

“Okay. Are you fine enough to lay back down?”

Max nodded, “I’m still sorry.”

“Stop, let’s go to sleep.”

#my writing #my ocs #max #julian #emeto #sickfics #vomiting #illness #emeto tw

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