#smiley face press on nails

[theopalempress]

#press on nails #nail art #smiley face #rave nailz #the opal empress #press ons #diy nails #nails #yellow nails #cool nails #nail tutorial #nail video #easy nail art #pretty nails #nail design #nailstyle #manicure #acid smiley nailz #Youtube

[wlntrsldler]

almost (sweet music) | luke castellan

synopsis: exbf! luke castellan goes on a date with another girl after your death. went back to my roots and wrote an aphrodite reader!

song: almost (sweet music) by hozier

it's been a year.

it's been a year since percy uttered the words, "we need a shroud, for the daughter of aphrodite." it's been a year since he survived the battle of manhattan and you didn't. it's been a year since hermes had to pull him off your dead body as he thrashed and mourned your death.

he's out of camp half blood now, which he thinks you'd be surprised to learn. you always joked that he'd end up taking over mr. d's position if he wasn't an immortal god. luke had a special relationship with chb, just like you did. back when he was sixteen, the first time he kissed you, he let himself think about growing old with you there.

maybe taking over the summer activities and planning. living in a small cabin just on the outskirts of camp. he thought about making it into a welcome center for new arrivals, somewhere where they could have a hot meal and have a room of their own before they inevitably ended up in the hermes cabin with his rowdy siblings.

those were the easy days. back when his biggest fear was losing his best friend if he told you how he truly felt about you. it seems silly and trivial now that he looks back at it. he wishes he told you how he felt sooner, just to get those extra years, extra days, extra seconds with you knowing that you were his and he was yours.

but now he's in his twenties and you were six feet under. it wasn't fair and he felt disgusted with himself as he prepared for his first date with a girl chris set him up with from his sociology class at nyu. he knew that you would've wanted him to move on, after all, you always said that your favorite version of him was when he was in love. something about how his eyes sparkle differently and how his voice turns softer, kinder, when he spoke, but luke didn't know how to tell you that he was only like that when it came to you.

the date was fine. the girl was pretty. she had the same hair color as you and same giggly laugh, and luke should be grateful that chris knew his type, but all luke could do was compare her to you. it wasn't fair to the girl. she was lovely and she deserved someone who didn't think about their ex-girlfriend every time they looked at her.

when she showed up to the mom and pops restaurant luke picked out for the date, she was listening to your favorite artist. luke almost felt like he was back in the aphrodite cabin, listening to the song on your record player, swaying you back and forth in a lousy attempt at slow dancing. if he tried hard enough, he swore he could feel the sound of your heartbeat pressed against his chest, reminding him that you were still there, still alive.

it made him so dizzy that his date had to ask him if he was okay. he turned pale, all the color draining from his face. luke meekly nodded and told her a half-truth. i haven't gone on a first date in a while.

the girl smiled at him kindly, just like how you did when you first met him, and told him she understood. she sat across from him and sipped on her water, trying her best to keep the conversation going, but luke could tell that she knew his mind was elsewhere.

his mind was at camp half blood, in the sheds by the strawberry fields. his lips were on yours, a smile grazing his face that you had to pull away to tease him. he was always so smiley with you, no facade of the brooding, tough as nails, hermes head counselor that everyone else got from him. with you, he was luke, young, naive, and helplessly in love. when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, cherry lip gloss teasing his tastebuds.

his date complimented his necklace and for the first time that night, luke gave her a genuine smile and a look of interest. it was the necklace you bought for him for his seventeenth birthday. you'd saved up all your money from your part-time job at the froyo shop in ohio during the year. it was a silver dog tag with an engraving of mercury and venus circling each other. he hasn't taken it off since you put the necklace on him years ago.

when she asked the story behind it, luke spoke your name for the first time in a year to a stranger. when he caught himself talking about you in the present tense, a bitter taste lingered in his mouth and he had to gulp down the rest of his water to wash it away. he flexed his hand, a nervous habit that he had. and when the girl leaned over to place her own hand over his to steady him, luke pulled away from her like she just burned him.

he apologized profusely and it became clear to the girl that luke was not ready to go on a date with anyone. luke saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes and he wondered if he'd looked like that the entire time, disappointed that it was her in front of him and not you. but then she tapped the back of his hand in a friendly way and leaned back in her chair and said, tell me about her.

you were his favorite topic of conversation. he recalled one too many conversations with chris and the stolls where they'd complain about how every conversation somehow ended up about you. so luke obliged and told her the story of how the two of you came to be. he kept the details vague, deciding that exposing olympus and the existence of the gods would be too much for a first date. maybe sixth, or seventh, but he doubts he'll get that far with her.

when the date was over, the girl gave luke a hug and whispered, i hope you guys get back together. it seems like you really love her.

luke wanted to tell her that if he had the power to be with you again, he would do it in a heartbeat, but that was beyond his control. luke thanked her and said, i hope so, too.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke pjo #luke castellan x you #percy jackson

[delphi-shield]

helping hand // leon s. kennedy

Leon x afab!Reader Smut wc: 2,600 mdni - 18+ hiii, you've all been so kind. unfortunately i am simply Too Awkward to properly express that, but i genuinely do appreciate all your kind words. please accept this smut as a token of my appreciation. i am definitely not luring you in with leon fics so that i can start posting the seven jill fics i'm working on haha what who would do that.

Leon helps you use a new toy. That's it, that's the smut. afab reader, use of dildo w/ knot & cumtube, size kink, use of good girl

You're not really sure what you expect Leon to do, per se - but in a moment of unfettered horniness, you had texted him. Told him how badly you needed him. He just hadn't known, maybe, what exactly you wanted from him. Not until you sent the picture, sloppily marked with a red line to show him exactly how far you had managed to take your newest toy - and how badly you wanted to take the whole thing.

You wedged your thumb between your teeth, biting at the nail. You stared at your last text message from Leon.

On my way ;)

That stupid fucking smiley face. You shouldn't be this nervous. You had requested his help. The ball was entirely in your court. You could pull the plug on this at any moment. Christ, it wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked before. He had knotted you into a pretzel more times than you could count, bent you over nearly every surface in your apartment, kicked your feet apart, and slid home like he was made for it.

But you've never really had this kind of experience with him before.

Sure, whatever. He had used your vibrator on you before. That wasn't an unwelcome guest. He had even mentioned more toys, left it up to you to decide when you wanted to introduce them to the bedroom. But this? This was different.

It was fucking huge, for starters.

The dildo sat there, intimidating on its own. You nudge the prominent head with a finger, trace the ridges down to the knot at the base. That's the part that's giving you trouble. That's the part you need help with. The cumtube should help, in theory. It’s already filled in anticipation of Leon’s arrival, the syringe lying off to the side while the toy sits in the middle of a towel you had spread out. You may as well get a spotlight, unfurl a banner that reads ‘HELP ME FUCK MYSELF’. Maybe some confetti poppers. Thoughts for next time. You should make a note of it.

Leon knocks like a cop, meaty part of his fist slamming against the door one, two, three times in a way that never fails to make you jump. You're already on edge, after all. Your pacing stops. You wipe your thumb off onto your shorts (tiny, barely more than glorified underwear - not like it matters. They'll be discarded soon anyway.) and wrench the door open. Leon grins down at you. His eyes skitter across the room, searching for the toy no doubt. You snort. As if you'd have it just sitting out on the kitchen table.

He greets you with a kiss to the top of your head, peeling off his coat and dropping it over the back of your couch. He slips out of his shoes - and you realize then and there that he looks like he's thrown on whatever was in reach at the time. His shirt is crumpled, socks mismatched - maybe he's more excited about this than you had expected. The thought sparks a prickle of heat across your skin. 

"So," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "when do I get to meet the little guy?"

"Little?" You tease, a grin twitching the corners of your lips into a smile.

He raises his hands, palms out. “My mistake.”

You snort, waving for him to follow you. As if he needs the encouragement. His hands settle onto your shoulders, thumbs gently pressing and massaging. You nudge the door open with your foot, sweeping your hand out in an exaggerated motion. 

Leon lets out a low whistle. "Okay. Not so little."

Your nerves rise up again, getting the best of you for a moment. You pick at your finger, lingering by the door while he steps in, crouching down to observe the set up you've laid out for him.

"We don't have to," you offer him an out, shrugging like it's fine, like you won't be disappointed - like the idea won't be burning a hole in the back of your mind for the rest of your goddamn life every time you get even a little horny.

"No," he says quickly. He picks up the syringe, testing it curiously. A bead of lube dribbles from the head of the toy, drops to darken the towel below. "I think we do."

"But, like, we actually don't--"

Leon stands, turns back to you. His hands rest on your shoulders again, his head ducking to look you in the eye. He's not smiling - but damn, with that gleam in his eye, he doesn't have to.

"You want to. That's good enough for me."

Kissing him is the most natural thing in the world. A ‘thank you’, an ‘I love you’, all wrapped up into a press of your lips to his. He licks into your mouth, hands sliding down your arms slowly. He nudges your bedroom door shut only to press you against it, knee rising between your legs and pressing. You groan, rocking your hips against him, letting the friction ignite in the pit of your stomach. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, exploring skin that you've spent hours mapping out and committing to memory. He hisses a breath between his teeth, and you giggle when he mutters about your freezing little fingers, yet refuses to pull away. A hand trails to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle before his hand rests atop yours, stilling you.

"Nice try," he teases. "You're not getting out of this that easy. You asked me here for a reason."

No amount of huffing or pouting dissuades him. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat. He's shucking your shirt off of you, flinging it to some corner of the room. His hands grip your sides, kneading soft flesh between his fingers. For a moment, you wonder if he remembers that reason himself. He spins you around, off the door, and nudges you towards the center of the room, towards the little station you had set up. His fingers linger against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps where they once were.

"Why don't you show me how you usually do this and we'll go from there."

You clear your throat, your eyes skittering off to the side. You hook a thumb under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down past the point of your hip. Leon’s gaze is hot on your skin, eyes narrowing the slightest bit when he realizes you’re not wearing panties.

“I kind of started before you got here,” you admit. You gesture sheepishly to a smaller toy lying discarded to the side. Leon’s shoulders straighten, the hiss of a breath sucked through his teeth. He lets out a slow, whispered ‘okay’.

It takes a few awkward, fumbling moments to get into place. You kneel over your target and Leon stands back with his hands on his hips, watching. You laugh, tell him it isn’t a spectator sport, and the awkward tension bleeds out of the room when he chuckles. He drops to one knee behind you, rubbing his cheek affectionately against the top of your head.

His hands settle firmly onto your hips, guiding you down onto the toy. Your head leans back against his chest, lube-slick hand curled around the base to keep it steady. The head slips into you, the slide greeting you with a rush of warmth flooding your belly. His lips press below your ear, murmuring strings of praises. His hands slide from your hips to caress your breasts, calloused thumbs circling your nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger and plucking. You keen, your back arching, pressing into his hands, and your hips roll. More of the toy presses into you - enough to give you pause, enough to drive the breath from your lungs in the form of a whimper.

The stretch and the burn isn't unpleasant. It fuels the fire in your belly, spreading to your limbs - but you know that this is the easy part. This part, you’ve done on your own. You take a moment, balanced on your knees, to enjoy the stretch, the fullness.

Before you get too comfortable, Leon's hands grasp your hips again and urge you upwards, the ridges of the toy dragging against your soaked walls. A groan stays locked behind your lips, tongue pressing to the back of your teeth. He presses you back down, sets a steady pace for you that you wouldn't have picked for yourself. His hands brace you, his arms looped around you firm, until your hips move without his guidance.

He raises his fingers to your lips and you open obediently, pressing your tongue to the seam of his digits. You lap and suck at his skin. His forehead lowers, pressing into your neck to release a hot groan against your skin.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your jaw hard - harder than he meant to. His fingers squeeze, pursing your lips for him to kiss. He’s ravenous, spit-slick fingers leaving a warm, sticky feeling against your skin, teeth tugging your bottom lip to his mouth for him to suckle. You aren’t sure which is more obscene - the sloppy, wet noises of your pussy or the starved way he kisses you.

"I am so hard right now," Leon whispers against your lips. A shock of arousal jolts your hips down. You groan, fumbling blindly behind you, hand slapping against his chest and sliding lower. He catches your wrist and chides, “Nuh-uh. Focus.”

“No fair,” you whine.

Leon drags the backs of his fingers down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach, and between your folds. The fingers you had sucked so dutifully moments before circle your clit in quick, harsh movements that pin your shoulders back.

“You want to talk about fair?” He growls in your ear. The knot catching against your hole, presses against you in a way that makes you whine and pull up. Leon leans against your back, urging you down again. “Calling me over just to help you fuck yourself? You think that’s fair?” You aren’t even sure what you’re saying anymore, babbling, hiding your face in your arm, body moving, chasing his fingers, chasing the press and the fill of the toy in your cunt.

“Almost there,” Leon huffs, his breathing nearly as labored as yours in a way that makes your heart

rate fucking spike and your vision blur. “Doin’ so good. Gotta get you nice and fucked open for me later, huh?”

You whimper and whine each time you come back down to meet the knot, the pressure against your pussy too much to push past, but god you want this, you want this whole thing so badly. Leon’s fingers stall on your clit, pressing against you firmly. He leans away, the heat of his chest disappearing and leaving you cold and empty.

“Leon -” you start to protest, your words melting into a moan. An ungodly squelch pushes lube through the toy, splurting deep in your pussy and coating your already soaked walls. You move, rising up and mewling at the contrast of the cool lube. The glide down grows easier, quicker, more desperate. The knot kisses your entrance against and again, lube and slick dribbling down the length of the toy and pooling at the base.

The press doesn’t burn any longer. It’s a pressure that makes your mouth drop open and your head roll back, your eyes squeezed shut. Leon is all over you, his fingers rubbing fervently at your clit, building a fuzzy, static-y pleasure that contrast perfectly with the deep, satiating fullness. He presses open-mouthed kisses to every bit of skin he can reach, his tongue licking and teeth nipping.

You sink down again and then it’s in. The breath drives from lungs, your whole body frozen a moment. It returns to you in a ragged moan. You slump against Leon, picking your hips up experimentally and pressing back down. The knot stretches you wide again.

“Good girl,” Leon coos, his eyes fixed on the apex of your legs, mouth parted. He lets you enjoy yourself a moment longer, lets you clumsily rock your hips against the base of the toy. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

His arm loops around your waist, easing you off the toy in a slide that makes you moan, makes your insides quiver and your eyes squeeze shut. A rush of lube gushes down the toy, darkening the towel. You don’t have the time to be embarrassed by the noise your body makes; he positions you quickly, your back resting against his chest, spread open for him with your legs draped over his knees. He grabs your toy, slick with lube and with you, and glides the head between your lips. Your legs twitch, but he holds them open. Blessedly, he doesn’t tease for long. He guides the toy into you and marvels at the way it slides so easily, at the noises you make for him, the part of your lips, the stagger of your breathing.

His hand grips the base of the toy, fucking you with it at his own pace, the grind and the push so perfect you can’t catch your breath. His hand flattens across your stomach to stop your squirming, but when it proves worthless he chuckles, mutters something about how needy you are, and goes back to playing with your clit.

You clamp down on the toy, your walls too slicked, too wet to offer any real resistance to the way Leon thrusts it into you. The stutter of your hips becomes desperate, the noises leaving you pitched high, and a final pass of Leon’s fingers against your clit makes you snap, the pleasure flooding through you in a wave that pulls you under, leaves you gasping for air. His mouth latches onto your neck, holding the toy still for you to grind onto as you work your way through your release.

It feels like an hour has passed when your head finally clears. The stiff feeling settling in your knees and in your hips is something for your to worry about later. Leon strokes your hair from your face, his arms curled around your waist now, letting you take your time as you recover.

“You still hard?” You ask, turning your head to kiss him.

“You have no idea,” Leon laughs, low and throaty. He kisses you soft, resisting the urging to tilt your head back and take this another direction.

He doesn’t let you relax too long, working the toy out of you gently. The emptiness has you curling into his side, you skin sticky with lube, sweat, your own release - god knows what, at this point. You can’t be certain that you really care, that floaty feeling still washing through your veins.

As much as you want to linger there on the floor, Leon scoops you up and deposits you on the bed. You reach a hand out for him, urging him to join you, but he only holds up a finger to tell you to wait.

“Gotta get this cleaned up. Gotta make sure you’re not hiding any other fun toys from me.”

“The dresser, second drawer on the right.”

He shakes his head, taking it for a joke. He shoots you a smirk as he opens the drawer. His face falters, surprise flickering over his features, a light oh leaving his lips.

“Well,” he says, his hands settling onto his hips. “Guess it’s a good thing we’ve got all night, huh?”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #resident evil #leon kennedy #i'll figure out a tagging system one day. maybe even navigation. until then? good luck.

[moonstruckme]

can i request steve, sirius, or peter — whichever you’d like — with a high! reader :3 just all lovey and dovey and snuggly together

Thanks for requesting!

cw: weed

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 687 words

You’ve become engrossed by Peter’s wrist. The two of you are only watching this show because you’d asked for it, but you’re not paying it any attention now. You trail your index finger lightly over the veins underneath his palm, then reverse course, letting the flat of your nail bump back over them. When you dip your head and start kissing it, slow, soft presses of your wet mouth, Peter laughs. 

“What…” His voice comes out breathy, mystified. “What are you doing?” 

“Adoring you.” You turn your face so your cheek is pressed against his inner wrist and his hand cups your head, looking up at him with red eyes. Peter’s grin widens; your pupils are ginormous. He doubts his are much better. “You’re welcome.” 

“Yeah? Can I do that too?” He uses his free hand to take a big handful of your thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

A little smile plays on your lips, but you shake your head, sitting up and getting into his lap. “M’not coming onto you, Parker,” you say. “My love is pure.” 

“Oh, my bad.” He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and you take the cue, tilting your head up for a kiss. “For the record, my love is pure, too.” Peter touches his lips to yours once, twice, brief and teasing. “I just don’t feel the need to announce it, you know?” 

You plant your hands on either side of his face when he goes in for a third. You seem to be considering him. Peter submits to your perusal, looking back at you as you scan his features thoughtfully. 

“You’re so smiley,” you tell him. One of your thumbs pushes into his cheek. 

“Mm, wonder why that could be.” You tilt your head, bemused, and his heart goes to mush. “You’re being pretty cute right now, you know that?” 

“So biased.” You roll your eyes and your head goes with them, tipping back towards the ceiling. Peter slides one hand from your waist to your back, keeping you from falling in case you need it. “I thought you were supposed to be a scientist. Don’t you have to control your variables or something?” 

“I’m off the clock.” He leans forward to catch the arch of your neck in his mouth, and he sort of gets why you were so obsessed with his wrist now. Peter wants to eat you. “You don’t think you’re cute?” 

You giggle as his stubble tickles your neck, lolling your head in the other direction to cut him off. But Peter’s persistent; he moves to the newly open terrain, fingers digging into your side to elicit another giggle from you. 

Your laughter is loud and warm-sounding, cracking out of you like a shot. You grab the offending hand and scramble forward to hide your neck underneath Peter’s chin. 

“You don’t, huh?” He doesn’t fight your hold on his hand, but he can still feel you shaking with laughter against him. “Don’t wanna tell me how cute you are, pretty girl?” 

“Peter,” you whine. You release his hand, wrapping both your arms around his neck and cuddling close. 

Peter wonders if this is a manipulation. Some kind of appeal to his affection for you. Either way, it works; he gives up tickling you and sets his hand on your back, rubbing up and down the curve of your spine. 

“You’re really tactile today,” he observes warmly. 

Your sigh tickles his neck. “I know. I’m in a mood.” 

“What kind of mood is that?” 

“The I-love-you-so-much-I-might-die kind. Pretty fucked up, what you’re doing to me. I should be mad at you.” 

Peter’s pretty sure if someone did an x-ray of his chest right now, his heart would just be a puddle of warm goop. “You’ve done worse to me.” 

“Lies.” 

“Truths.” 

You’re quiet for a minute. Peter relaxes into the sound of your breathing syncing with his, the swishing sound of his palm moving over your shirt. 

“Truce, and I’ll go get the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer?” 

He huffs a laugh. “Way to make me an offer I can’t refuse, pretty girl.”

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x self insert #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker scenario #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker blurb #tasm!peter parker one shot #tasm!peter parker oneshot #tasm peter parker #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman fanfiction #the amazing spiderman fandom #tasm fandom #tasm fanfiction #tasm x reader

[ssahotchnerr]

A soft little Aaron thought<33

Aaron waking you up with kisses all over your face and neck. No sexual motivation behind it. Just lovey little kisses to you. He's so smiley when you open your eyes sleepily. He says "Good morning<3:)" and kisses your lips and brushes his nose against yours<3333. It's his favourite SOFT way to wake you up 🤭🤭.

Hope this is okay bestie<3. First thing I thought of when you asked for soft!Hotch<3

closer

that's so so sweet 🥹 cw; bau!reader, established relationship, minor aaron angst about him not sleeping :( but so so much fluff

despite how soft aaron's lips were, their gentleness never failed to arouse you. it was the most serene way possible to slowly pull you from sleep, lightly bringing you back to the awareness of the world but not all at once.

pepper-light kisses started at your temple, before trailing down to your cheek, then to your jawline, and moving even lower to find home at your neck. from there, even more kisses were scattered along the surface of your skin before the route restarted at your cheek, but not before stopping momentarily at your lips.

there was a time in your life where an alarm clock signaled the start of your day.

this was better.

your hand moved upwards, your fingers weaving into aaron's dark hair, scratching your nails against his scalp softly to indicate you were awake.

"good morning." aaron's voice was clad with sleep, a bit hoarse from the disuse.

"hmph." you hummed in response, a small smile taking form on your face as you stretched. as you opened your eyes to find your favorite person, his hair was tousled, the comforter pulled up past his shoulders- he looked adorably comfortable. his own eyes were lined with an eagerness, full of content now that you were awake. with the relaxed expression adorned on his face, it appeared almost as if a younger aaron was staring right back at you.

you would never forget; when you first had first joined the bau, aaron would enter the roundtable room, exit his office, with the heaviest eye bags you've ever seen. it wasn't an every-once-in-a-while thing either, it was a daily occurrence.

it appeared as if he never slept, which you almost believed to be true at one point. almost nightly, he would remain in his office as everyone else left, scribbling away at paperwork, rifling through case file after case file, a fresh cup of coffee on the side.

and when you arrived back in the morning, the same visual was there. pen working furiously, a stack of never ending files, another steaming mug of caffeine nearby. his shoulders were tense as he held his posture while sitting, but it was seemingly forced, as if he disguising or refraining from letting them slouch with his exhaustion.

and now, his previous dark circles under his eyes were almost nonexistent. they almost never appeared, except for the instance a case took a heavy toll, and you had a lot to do with the result. in addition, the obvious change was what indicated to the team he was seeing someone, and soon afterwards that someone was revealed to be you.

he was well rested, relaxed, happy.

it also gave you a feeling you couldn't quite put into words- knowing you contributed in giving him a sense of peace; peace he never thought he was capable of experiencing again. night, for him, no longer served the purpose of overworking, or overthinking, but rather a time where rigid shoulders didn't have authority.

"always waking me up, aren't you hotchner?"

a sweet laugh escaped him, his eyes simply glowing as he gazed at you lovingly. unable to help himself, he lazily pressed his lips to yours once more, brushing his nose to yours and staying close. "i missed you."

you rolled over slightly, draping an arm around him, and then doing the same with one of your legs, hooking him strictly to you. "haven't gone anywhere, my love."

and never planning on it.

his face easily found the crook of your neck, where he once again began littering it with kisses. his breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, scooting himself even closer to you if it were possible. "doesn't matter."

the two of you remained like that, unwilling to part, not ready to begin the day just yet. moments like these were your favorite, whether in the morning or at night as you both fell into the depths of sleep, where the two of you could just be together. or rather, just be. nothing else required your attention, no other responsibilities, not needing anything else in the world but each other.

as aaron had the most comfortable, soft yet solid torso, you nearly began dozing off again. but he spoke up, his mumbled voice vibrating against your neck.

"i think i'll always miss you. no matter how close you happen to be."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

[upon-a-starry-night]

Savior Her Pt.1

Demon! Colby Brock x Fem! Reader

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Warnings: small gore, being followed, blood

Word Count: 901

Summary: You're being followed and you pray to any Being that will listen to save you. A Demon is the last thing you expect to help you but you're not complaining.

~~

If someone had told you this is how you were going to die you would tell them it was a disappointing end and never leave the house again. 

Truthfully though, perhaps you were being a little dramatic, this guy could just be going in the same direction as you… for the past five blocks…. After making a lot more than 5 lefts and 4 rights. 

But out of the 75% of women who have been followed in America how many of them died? 

Maybe you dropped your wallet?

God, your optimism does not work in situations like this, and it didn’t help that you were shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

You clutched your bag a little tighter, your knuckles probably turning white from how hard you were holding onto it. It was getting late, later than people were beginning to be out on a Tuesday night. Not to mention it was the middle of November so it was freezing once the sun went down, which it did, hours ago.

Your feet are starting to hurt and your phone call to the police consisted of the male operator telling you to go somewhere public or find a police station and asking you too many times if you were sure you were being followed. Your attempt to lose the stalker in an antique shop did not work, turns out going to a public place does not prevent creepy men from following you into said public place. 

You’re sure your local police are busy helping people who need it more, at least, that’s what you tell yourself when you google map the closest police station to your location and it’s an hour's walk away.

Soon after you have the terrifying realization that you don’t really recognize where you are.

Shit, maybe your father was right, maybe your stupidity really would get you killed

You feel tears trickling down your cheeks, unaware you’d even been on the verge of crying but you don’t really blame yourself.

You spare a glance behind you to see the man has gotten closer, he too seems to realize all of your attempts at safety are falling short. 

He’s an intimidating height, something you only realize now that he’s closer, you can’t tell how buff he is under his hoodie but maybe God was on your side and he was small enough for you to break an arm.

You flinch lightly when you feel a stinging in your palm, realizing you’d been clenching your fist so tight your nails broke the skin, a small amount of red blossoming in little crescents on your skin.

Briefly, you find yourself praying, or calling out to any God or Being that would listen and save you from this nightmare. Maybe death would be more merciful than what this bastard was going to do to you. 

In true victim fashion, you somehow manage to trip over a raised piece of the sidewalk, your bag flies out of your grip and you see your belongings scatter across the concrete. At least if you die the last thing you’ll see is your watermelon-scented hand sanitizer and your smiley face keychain smiling at you one last time. 

It was a cinematic way to go out at least.

You’re sure there’s probably some metaphor that can be made about this.

You hear footsteps approach and prepare for something, anything to happen. Tears still pour from your face and you think about your family, your father, and your brother. Would they miss you? Would they mourn you? Would they care? 

You spent so much of your life wishing they would care about you, or at least leave you alone.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of grunting behind you, you’re a little scared to turn around, fearing what you may find but you find the strength to lift your body into an upward position. 

Flinching when your open wounds press into the dirty ground.

When you turn to look behind you you’re surprised to see the guy following you being held by his collar by another man. 

You can only see the back of him but you take notice of his short-ish hair, black jeans, boots, and a leather jacket with two twin red flame designs running parallel with his spine. 

You watch him land another blow onto what is probably an already beat-up face, when he pulls his arm back you spot blood on his knuckles and spattered on his hand. 

The mysterious stranger finally lets go of the creep and you nearly let out a gasp as he stumbles back. There’s blood flowing from his nose and mouth, and he looks like he can barely stay conscious enough to stand.

Before the creep can even think of fighting back or running, the leather jacket guy punches him right in the stomach and he crumples to the ground, coughing up more blood that splatters onto the gray concrete.

The mysterious guy bends down to whisper something to the other guy and then stands, giving the guy one last non-committal kick before turning around.

You gasp as haunting blue eyes look around and land on you, there’s blood speckling across his face and he looks as surprised to see you as you are to see him, but what stands out to you the most are the two black masses protruding from his head.

Horns.

Pt.2

-

This is my first ever Colby fic so please let me know what you think!~ Starry (also the title is a play on words- save her and savor her)

#fanfiction #sam and colby #colby brock imagine #colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #colby brock fic #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fluff #upon a starry night writes

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.3k] prompt: "Is that my shirt?" soft Steve, sleepovers, clothes sharing. Going to work on a Saturday morning was easily one of the most difficult things Steve had to do with his week. 

Going to work on a Saturday morning and leaving his girlfriend in his bed was fucking torture. 

He groaned when the alarm went off, beeping obnoxiously from his nightstand and the tell tale signs of the morning sun slipped into the room through the gap in his curtains. It painted lines of gold over your bare back, new freckles on your shoulders from spending the previous afternoon in the pool and Steve rolled into you, lips pressing kisses along your spine. 

You mumbled something into the pillow, voice sleep thick and when you finally rolled over, your boyfriend wasted no time in pressing his face to your naked chest, humming in content. You were bed warm, skin smelling like your mango body butter and leftover chlorine. 

By the time you’d run your fingers through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, Steve was dozing again, cheek squished to your sternum and his legs tangled with yours and the sheets. You felt the soft puffs of his breath over your bare skin, his arms wrapped right around your waist, he shifted in his sleep, pulling you closer. 

It pained you to do it, but you dropped a kiss to his forehead, pushing your nose playfully into his wild hair, murmuring softly that he was going to be late. 

He groaned again, brows furrowed and lips pouting as he pushed them into your skin, butterfly kisses across the curves of your breasts, the dip in between. 

“No,” he mumbled and you smiled at the roughness of his voice, deep and scratchy with sleep. “Wanna stay w’you.”

You hummed at the thought, Saturday mornings with Steve were seldom but they were your favourite. The house to yourself, his parents naturally absent, in another state, another country, another business trip. 

But it meant you could spend the day being lazy with him, tangled in sheets, whispering his name as he woke you up with his head between your thighs, dark brown eyes shining as they looked up at you. You relished in his bed head, his hair soft and misbehaving all day ‘cause he couldn’t be bothered styling it if you had no plans to leave the house. 

You loved eleven o’clock showers, the morning turning bright, a hot Indiana summer outside but you shared the warm spray with Steve, the smell of his body wash filling the small en-suite. He took his time with you like that, morning stretching into lunch, bubbles and hands slipping over your skin, kisses lazy and languid, the tiles cold against your back.��

You ate in the yard, half dressed and legs in the pool, body stretched out over the hot patio floor, sun drenched and eating cheese sandwiches and bowls of strawberries. 

You loved the way he looked at you, like he couldn’t stop, like he never planned to. The static buzz of the radio would flood from the open kitchen window, pints of fresh lemonade on the garden table, hearts and smiley faces painted on both your backs with coconut sunscreen. 

You’d swap anything for one of those days. 

Steve seemed to have the same idea, his tall frame still stretched out across the bed, moving over you instead of into the shower. He pressed a knee between your thighs, a promise of something he didn’t have time to give you but he held himself over you, smile soft, eyes sleepy. 

“Shower with me,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your jaw, trailing to the shell of your ear and he grinned at the eruption of goosebumps across your skin. “Please.”

You groaned, both at the idea and the reality of knowing it would make Steve late. Again. You gazed up at him, wondering how you were ever able to say no to him. He was grinning at you, hair a mess, bare chested and still warm from where he’d been pressed against you all night. 

“Keith will straight up murder you if you’re not there on time,” you told him, sentence half gone as he leaned down to crowd into you, lips pushed to the corner of your own as if he could kiss away the logic. 

“You’d avenge me though, right?” He asked, lips sucking a bruise underneath your jaw, successfully doing everything he could to distract you and himself from his impending shift. 

You snorted, a smile on your lips and head tilted back to allow Steve more access, his teeth grazing over your neck in a way that made you wiggle against him. His hand found your hip, fingers flirting with the edge of your underwear, soft cotton and lace edges that made him feel a little weak. 

“Oh, of course babe,” you nodded, pressing kisses and sarcasm to his cheek, “Keith wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.”

He grinned at the thought of you going up against his boss, lanky as you were small, but god, you were fierce. Steve pulled back a little, nudge at your cheek with his nose so you met his gaze, lips melting together, lazy and slow.  

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth,” you whined, still chasing his kiss despite your protests. 

“Don’t care,” the boy countered, hands sliding up your sides, thumbs grazing the soft skin on the dip of your hip, his knee moving higher into the space between your legs, rocking into you. 

You sighed, dreamlike, blissed, the sun that slipped through the window bathing you both in warm and light. You could see the strip of blue sky through it, the top of Steve’s bed head as he moved down your body, taking the sheets with him as he kissed a path between your breasts, tongue catching the dip of your hip bone. 

“Steve,” you tried to chastise, but it came out softer, like a whine and it made him grin against you and the press of his teeth against the band of your underwear made you cant your hips into him. 

He pressed the bridge of his nose into your navel, hands on either side of your hips, drawing you into him and he tutted at the way your wriggled in his grasp. 

“Pretty,” he hummed, fingers finding the lace against your thighs, plucking at it delicately. “Y’know, if you came and showered with me, we could save water-”

His words were cut short as you shook your head, grinning, bringing one of your knees up and between your bodies. Steve pouted, but your pressed your shin against his chest and pushed him away, just a little, just enough. 

You raised your brows, tried to look stern when you said: “you’re going to be late, Harrington.”

Steve sighed, head tilted back to show off the strong column of his neck, faux exasperation painting his pretty features. You eyed the bruise you’d suckled on his skin, at the base of his throat where it was still pretty and lilac, proof of how good he made you feel the night before. 

He grabbed your leg in response, hands wide and strong as he gripped your ankle, pressing one more kiss to the inside of your knee before relenting, tumbling off of the bed and huffing. 

His gaze was dark and heavy when he looked back down at you, jaw a little slack and hair over his eyes, bed rumpled and half dressed. 

“Now that’s just not fair,” he told you, lips twisted as he held in a groan. 

You laughed, cheeks flushed at the effect he still had on you after all this time, looking at you like you were gold dust. You twisted in his sheets, hair mussed as you sunk further into the pillow, bare skin still on show, thighs rubbing together under the heat of his stare. 

“What’s not fair?” You asked, doe eyed and acting innocent but Steve knew you better than that, knew the husk in your voice meant you knew exactly what you were doing to him. 

You preened, sliding one leg up over the bed, knee bent and sheets shifting, flashing the cherry red of your underwear, cut high on your hips. You grinned when he moaned theatrically, a hand slapped to his chest as he bent at the knees, clutching at his heart. 

He beamed when you laughed, sunshine and softness. 

“Goddamn, what’s a boy to do?” He asked, voice dropped low as he stood at the foot of the mattress, hands wandering back up your calves, skimming over sun kissed skin, eyes on the red lace that was still peeking out from the mess of sheets and pillows. 

But you repeated your earlier actions, one leg extended long as your foot found the middle of chest, pressing firm as you pushed him away and towards the bathroom door. Steve pouted, pretended to bite at your toes but he turned, grabbing the towel that hung from the hook on the door. 

He threw you a look over his shoulder, still huffing at having to leave you for the entire day. 

“Succubus,” he muttered. 

When he finally reappeared, hair a little damp but dressed for work, wrestling into his Family Video vest, he stopped dead in the doorway, staring as you sat on the edge of the bed, shoving your feet into your shoes. 

“Is that my shirt?” He asked, voice a rumble. 

You looked up, plucking at the material that fell to the middle of your thighs. It was almost a dress, the tight material of your cycle shorts barely peeking out from underneath the hem. 

“Mmm,” you confirmed, watching in interest as Steve wandered back into the bedroom, eyes glazed, lips parted. “Mine is still wet from when someone threw me into the pool last night.” 

You stood, swiping at the strands of hair that had fallen into your face before walking over to your boyfriend, hands flat against his chest as you leaned into him. 

“Is that okay?” You whispered the last part, knowing fine well the only issue Steve had with you wearing his clothes was the fact that he wasn’t able to immediately strip you out of them. 

He let out a laugh, a little humourless, a little pained and he took his chance to wind his arms around your waist, spinning you both until he was able to back you against his dresser. He dropped a kiss to your cheek, chasing the corner of your lip. 

“You tryin’ to make me act up?” He murmured and at your silence, he hummed, a little breathless. “Succubus,” he repeated his statement from earlier, pushing kiss after kiss into your neck until you squealed and wriggled away from him. 

“You’re going to be late, Steve!” But you couldn’t help but laugh, stumbling around the room as you tried and failed to escape the boy’s wandering hands.

He caught you again, pulling you into a hug that you happily accepted, your own arms winding around his neck as you both swayed together, still sleepy and soft with happiness. 

“Don’t wanna leave you,” he told you again, bending to push his face into the crook of your neck, wondering how you always smelled so good, like summer and all his favourite things. 

“I know, babe,” you soothed, sympathising. ‘Cause you truly didn’t want to let him go either, but the clock by the bed was flashing angry, red letters telling you both it was almost nine. “I told Max I’d drive her to the skatepark but how ‘bout we pick you up some lunch on the way home, huh?”

Steve hummed at this, a happy sound from the back of his throat that led to his lips pressed against yours, a deep, warm kiss of appreciation. 

“You gonna give me my shirt back then, too?”

“You think Keith would appreciate it? A little flash of skin?” You mused, already grinning as Steve grumbled his protests, swearing as you laughed. “Maybe that’s how we can make up for your terrible timekeeping skills!” 

Your faux enthusiasm made the boy smile but he tried to hide it with a scowl, lips twisted and eyes dark at the idea of anyone else but him seeing you like that. 

“Absolutely fucking not, sweetheart,” he growled and he tapped at your ass, a little possessive, a little playful. 

You hummed happily, laughter still bubbling in your chest but you kissed the pout from Steve’s lips to make up for your teasing, hand grasping his chin to bring him down to meet you, the boy obliging without protest. 

He nipped at your bottom lip, making you squeal, another kiss pressed quick to your cheek and then your forehead before he grabbed your hand, leading you out of the door. 

“C’mon now, you’re gonna make me late.”

He grinned at your gasp, slipping out the way of your playful smacks of indignation and he got handsy with you as you both stumbled your way out of his house, sun beaming through each window you passed, Mrs Harrington’s crystal vases spilling rainbows over the floors and walls. 

Steve called out to you as you parted one last time, your hand already on the door of your car, keys jingling. He whistled, a flirtatious noise that always had you blushing and when you looked over the roof of the vehicle, you caught his eye. 

He already had his sunglasses on, arms tanned and flexed as he rested them on the top of his own car, lips curled into a smile that was just for you. He nodded his head at your chest, his shirt soft and too big against your body, and he called out, voice full of adoration. “It looks better on you.”

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington imagine

[chiifuyus]

MISSED YOU!

#CHARACTERS: agedup!toman (mikey, draken, smiley, hakkai) x f!reader

#CW: smut. sub reader. dom (?) reader in hakkai’s. creampie. pet names. degradation. overstimulation. biting.

#NOTE: basically how they fuck after you've been apart for a while. also i'm actually back this time haha.

❦ MIKEY

"feels good right, babe?" he says, demeanor calm as he gazes at you writhing beneath him. his strokes were slow and agonizing only because he wanted to feel every inch of you around him, wanted to remember the way it felt to be in you for the next time he was away.

you could only suppress your moans with your hand, biting down when he hit that spot but only just barely. he noticed, leaning down to pepper kisses along your jaw before reaching your ear, "let me hear those pretty moans, princess."

without giving you a chance to move he'd already ripped your hand from your mouth raising it above your head. he did the same with your other arm now holding both your wrists in his hand as he changed the rhythm of his strokes. he went from slow and sensual to hard and rushed. his headboard now banging against the wall, sure to leave some marks.

you had no chance at holding in the screams that left you as his hips snapped into you, thrusting his cock deeper and deeper until it practically kissed your cervix. you wailed, his pace not settling down. the look in his eyes growing even hungrier at the sight of your face, eyebrows scrunched in pleasure and pretty mouth shaped in an 'o'.

you felt the coil in your core tighten and tighten until it became too much to bear. your release hit you hard, back arching as you feel yourself twitch all over mikey. he groans at the stimulation, stopping suddenly when he feels himself shoot inside of you, pussy milking everything he had in him. he falls down next to you on the bed turning to see you, eyes closed and chest heaving in recovery.

he smiles to himself as he reaches over to hold you in his arms, face coming in close to plant a kiss on your cheek, "missed you too babe."

❦ DRAKEN

“fuck, i missed you.” he growled. “missed this tight pussy.”

you didn't respond, drunk off the sheer size of him, moaning with each thrust of his hips into yours. the feeling of his thick member stretching you out drove you crazy. you could feel every vein on his cock as he slid in and out of you at a slow place. even so you clung to his torso, nails digging into his back, sure to leave those red marks he loves seeing after a night with you.

"tch, not even gonna say anything?” he grunts, as he hovers above you, observing your dazed state. “well i guess you can’t say anything when i'm fucking you this good, huh?” he smirks.

you manage a small nod to acknowledge him, hands reaching up to wrap around his neck to steady yourself as he resumes his thrusts at a faster pace. each one hitting that spongy spot inside of you sending you reeling in pleasure. "right there ken! harder! please!"

with those words it was like a beast had awoken in him. with one hand he lifts up your leg so that your ankle rests on his shoulder and with the other he keeps your hips in place as he begins to piston inside you. with no way to escape you writhe in pleasure, moans becoming louder and more desperate until you finally reach your breaking point.

with a broken gasp, you hit your high. spasming around him immediately. he’s affected by the new stimulation, deep groans escaping him in response. with a few more thrusts into you he reaches his own climax, rewarding you with the addictive feeling of him filling you up.

keeping himself in you he leans down to press a soft kiss against your temple, "good girl."

❦ SMILEY

"too much hoya- ah! too much!" you cry, gripping at the bed sheets while your boyfriend drilled into you from behind. you had already come but nahoya didn't seem to care, driving into you as hard as he could.

he responds to your cries by pulling your hair with one hand and shoving your torso down to deepen your arch with the other. you let out another cry, feeling his length running along your walls even more at this angle.

he grunts, pulling at your hair even harder. "shut up. haven't seen you in so long so you're gonna take everything i've got." he grits his teeth when he feels you squeeze him in response. in retaliation he snakes a hand between your legs delivering a pitch to your clit. you yelp, the pain subsiding into pleasure.

he sneers in your ear, a slight chuckle escaping him, “you filthy slut. you like it when i talk dirty?" your body responds on its own squeezing him again. he groans quietly, faltering in his thrusts for a second before resuming his pace.

he hated that you had such an effect on him. hated that he was away so long he forgot what it felt like to be inside you. it’s why he couldn’t stop right now. he was determined to make up for lost time, even if it meant ruining you in the process.

still, ever the gentleman he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your shoulder blade. the caring gesture only last a moment though before he bites the same patch of flesh, sending waves of bliss throughout your body.

as much as he loves you, he knows you like it rough.

❦ HAKKAI

“ah- it feels so good, too good baby.” he babbles as he finally bottomed out into your sweet cunt. his large hands go to your hips instantly, halting you to a stop before he came from just coming in contact with your tight walls.

he hisses through his teeth, feeling your heat pulse around him, begging for any movement. it made him dizzy to even think about moving in you, knowing he wouldn't last long if he did. you pull him from his worries when you plant a hand on his shoulder tracing it up his neck before lifting his chin to meet your gaze atop of him.

"haven't seen you in so long," you say painting a hickey onto his neck, "let me make you feel good." you whisper before pulling him into a sweet kiss, swallowing the groans he lets out as you begin to grind against him.

the grip he had on your hips was sure to leave bruises as you began to bounce on top of him, panting at the blissful feeling of his dick slipping in and out, hitting your insides just right. he was losing his mind feeling your walls squeeze him so deliciously, breathy moans leaving him unconsciously.

"kiss me, kai." you mutter, eyes dazed as you lost yourself in ecstasy. hakkai's expression mirrored your own as he leaned forward to obey your command, lips melting together as you swallowed each others moans. you felt yourself nearing the end and from the way hakkai was hunching over into you you could tell he was too.

"let's come together okay, sweet boy?" you lilt, running your hands across his toned shoulders. he could only groan in response, eyes closed as he fought the urge to come right there and then, your words going straight to his dick.

with a few more bounces he was goner, emptying himself inside you. it was the final push you needed, latching your arms around him to pull him close as you rode out your high, "missed you s'much, kai."

"me too, darling."

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #mikey smut #draken smut #mitsuya smut #nahoya smut #smiley smut #hakkai smut

[otrtbs]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ an otrtbs submission for the @sillylovesongsfest ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

prompt: pierre by ryn weaver

jarty croucher | t | 4.1k | slightly sexual themes and recreational drug use

Barty rolls over and groans at the sun-soaked tent he finds himself in. It’s sweltering hot and the thin cotton top sheet of the makeshift bed clings to his sticky skin. The tent is too bright and it smells sour with stale tobacco and weed.

It would be enough to make Barty vomit if there was anything left in his stomach.

There’s sand everywhere.

“It’s so fucking humid in here,” he groans, as his brain pounds against his skull. “I can’t breathe.”

A voice in the bed next to him makes him jump.

“It rained last night, remember?”

Barty turns to see a head of nearly white curly hair fanning out over the blue tarp next to him. A girl, no, the girl from last night laying on her stomach, still half-asleep.

“Fucking torrential.”

Barty didn’t remember. Not really.

The night before was coming back to him in bits and pieces. Alcohol-soaked frames of cognizance.

He remembers fighting with James again. Screaming so loud that his voice was hoarse and his throat was scratchy. This time was the last time. Never come back here again. He remembers hearing about some giant rager in the desert. Something about celebrating the blood moon. There were caravans of people and bonfires and music by the time Barty showed up.

He remembers not knowing anyone there. Heard from a friend of a friend. He was a drifter. A party crasher. None of that mattered once he was there though. A group of people pulled him in like they’ve known him his entire life, and soon enough he had a cup of something that burned his throat in his hand and a girl dragging him closer to the fire.

He remembers the brutal sun casting heat waves so violent that everything seemed to shimmer and dance slightly around him. Pockets of sun-induced water appeared just beyond the sand dunes and disappeared by the time Barty walked over to them.

He drank until the sun went down, he took everything offered to him. He sweats out all of the vodka in his system just to down more in a steady stream. He barely recalls the red moon rising high above him, ruddy and ominous.

When the desert got cold, that’s when the real party started.

Some man’s hand around his throat, some girl’s tongue in his mouth. Everything pulsating and dully muted around him. Bodies pressing up against his, hands through his hair, a settling chill to cool the sticky heat.

The girl pulls away. Stark white hair like an angel in the desert. Billowy white clothes like a ghost.

And Barty wants to be haunted.

Sand slipping through his hands. She weaves in and out of the crowd once she decides she’s done with him, but he follows as closely as he can.

Eventually, she stops and turns around again, the shadows from the fire flicker on her face.

“I have something to help with dullness,” she shouts over the noise, the people, the music, the blood rushing in his head.

“What?” He hadn’t realized he’d said that part out loud.

She sticks out her tongue so Barty can see a little white tab with a smiley face on it. It has three eyes, and one of them winks at him.

He puts his mouth on hers in grateful acceptance and the tab finds its way under his tongue.

“Who are you?” Barty asks, voice reverent as he eyes the tattoo on her shoulder. Little horns inked into her skin. “An angel?”

She laughs as she pulls him closer. Her nails are sharp like claws and for a second Barty thinks she might rip him apart. Feels like he’s been caught. Her teeth sharp and glinting at the sight of his throat.

“Maybe I’m the devil.”

That’s where his memory ends. For the most part.

He holds a hand up to his sore lip and winces. Runs his tongue over it and tastes the dried blood.

“Fuck,” he groans.

The girl sits up and as soon as Barty sees her pale green eyes blinking back at him he smiles.

“Pandora.”

“Hm. So you do remember.”

“Vaguely,” Barty croaks through chapped lips. “I can’t believe I slept in a tent in the desert on the floor.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You look like you do this all the time. No offense.”

“None taken,” Barty sighs, as he examines his stinging palm to see a raw and, now dried, bloody cut spanning the lifeline on his skin. “What the fuck?”

“It was the sacrifice to the moon,” Pandora supplies breezily as Barty moves to stand up.

“Right, whatever that fucking means,” Barty brushes her off.

Maybe he should be more concerned about the whole ordeal, but he wasn’t. It was actually…fun. A good release of energy.

He would’ve hated it.

He would’ve insisted that Barty stay the night at his place instead. Entertain him with something less risky. Something more self-serving.

Barty shakes his head to clear his thoughts. At least last night he hadn’t thought of him at all. Now, the harsh light of the morning was screwing things up again.

Pandora helps him search the sand and surrounding tents for his keys and his wallet, and some various other items before she points him in the right direction and Barty makes the trek back up the road to his car.

She tells him there’s another party next month. He tells her he’ll think about it.

The drive back is quiet. Barty doesn’t turn on the radio, it’ll only aggravate his already pounding head.

Instead, he thinks.

What would he think if Barty told him what he did?

Told him he held out his bleeding palm to the fire and listened as the blood sizzled on the rocks and wood beneath it. Told him he danced in the desert in the pouring rain and slept in a sandy tent as the alcohol coursed through his system. Told him he stayed out all night, not bothering to call home. Not bothering to tell a single other person where he was.

He’d be appalled. He’d probably sigh in disappointment, or better yet, he’d yell when Barty finally bothered to answer his call the next week.

It’s not Barty’s fault that James liked him because he was rough around the edges. Too sharp to hold onto without bleeding. Too impulsive to see a long-term future with. Too mean to have breakfast with the next morning.

It’s why it was fun. Something with an expiration date. Manufactured good times in a bottle– consequence-free-fucking.

But then it got confusing.

Barty wishes he would call. But he’s thankful he doesn’t.

A few weeks later, Barty finds himself at the front row of some dive bar-turned-concert-venue sipping a warm and flat beer. The place is crowded and loud, and the air is warm with the stench of alcohol and weed. He’s pretty sure someone in the back is giving out makeshift tattoos for five dollars. He’s pretty sure he’s gonna take the guy up on the offer after the show.

Some girl, in a poor attempt to dance, knocks into him and sends his beer sloshing over the side of his cup and onto the floor.

He doesn’t really mind though. Because it’s that occurrence that causes the bass player to look at him. Really look at him as he sways along to the music, and nods his head to the beat.

Barty gives a small smirk and raises his plastic cup in response and the bass player smirks back at him. A challenge. A dare. One that Barty knows well.

Barty watches him all night. Dark, muscled arms strumming along, plucking the strings. He’s so close Barty can see his short paint chipped fingernails and calloused hands. His hair bleached almost white, falls in twists that he shakes every once in a while as they fall in front of his eyes. His lips mouth the words to the song the frontman is singing. His body moves to the beat of the drummer, and his eyes shine like he’s doing it all for Barty. And maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s because Barty has always been Barty, but as the night progresses he starts to actually believe it is all for him.

When the set is over, Barty follows the bassist out back into the cooling night.

“You played really well up there,” he called after the man, causing him to turn around.

“Oh yeah?” The man smirked.

“Yeah. I’m Barty.”

“Evan.”

“Watched you all night.”

And that’s all it took really before Evan had him pressed up against some cold stone brick wall in a back alleyway.

Barty spends the better part of two months with Evan. They travel to different venues in the surrounding towns. They sleep all day and stay out all night as Evan plays his shows. Evan teaches him how to steal from unsuspecting store clerks. Barty shows him how to pick any lock. He lets Evan trace the scar on his palm over and over again. They’re high for most of it. Barty pierces Evan’s septum. Evan pierces his eyebrow. He travels with the band and plays the part of groupie dutifully.

It was much longer than his one-night desert excursion with Pandora, but soon enough the inevitable happened. He gets bored. Evan’s time was up and those soft, disappointed brown eyes flooded his mind once more.

Evan’s hands were calloused but not as rough. He was telling a joke but didn’t laugh the same. He didn’t bite to draw blood. He didn’t press to bruise.

Fuck.

Barty left with little trace. Just a text message telling Evan to text him the next time he was in town playing a show. Evan liked it but otherwise didn’t say a word.

And that was that.

Maybe this was just his way. Maybe he would be perpetually stuck chasing some unknown James shaped hole for the rest of his life. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. He could fill it up with other things. He could live with that.

He tries to tell himself he can live with that when it happens. His phone buzzes. Again and again and again and again and Barty stares at the caller ID displaying a number he’s more than familiar with. He answers it with a shameful eagerness but doesn’t speak.

“Hello?”

“Did you mean to call me?” Barty croaks out in the deadened air.

A stuttering pause. “Yeah. Yeah, hi. How are you?”

Barty lets out a sharp laugh. Too sharp. “How am I? I’m fine, James. How are you?”

“Good,” James tried to say brightly, but Barty could hear the flatness in his voice. “How, um. How have you been?”

“Okay, what the fuck, Bambi. You’re freaking me out. It’s almost four in the morning.”

James laughs at the nickname that was always made to be an insult. Until it wasn’t.

“No, I know. I just…” James trails off and Barty finds himself wishing he would just finish his fucking sentence.

Come on, James. It’s me. You don’t have to be nice to me, remember? That’s the deal. That’s the rule. You can be mean to me. I can take it.

Something in his chest pulls, but Barty opts to ignore it as he takes on his talking-to-James tone: Sarcastic and needle-sharp.

“Miss me that much, Potter?” Barty hears James let in a sharp breath on the other end of the line and pushes on. “What? Are you going to tell me that it’s three in the morning and this is the time I normally come slinking around your place? Miss having someone like me to knock you about a bit? Get a little too rough with you? Fuck you, smoke with you after, and leave before the lights come on?”

“Barty.” He tries not to flinch at the fact that James is using his first name. “That’s not why…I’m calling because–”

But Barty cuts him off before James can say something ridiculous. Something like ‘I’m calling because I care about you,' or 'I’m seeing someone else,' or 'I’m worried for you. This guy’s really great, not at all like you,' or 'I miss you.’

“Well, I can’t come around anymore. I just finished touring around with some bass player and his band all across the state. They just signed to a label they’re about to be huge. And Evan, the bass player, he’s like the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, so.” Barty was aware that he was trying too hard. He could hear it in his own voice, but he was praying it was convincing enough for James. He pulled his lip ring in between his teeth and waited for James to say something.

“Oh, there’s an Evan.”

There was an Evan, kind of.

“Yeah, and he’s great, and I’m great. Never better, actually. So I think you were right to end it when you did. Whatever it was. It’s better this way.” Barty lies.

Barty lies and James goes quiet. It’s unbearable.

“James?”

Do you want to come over?

Why did it take you months to call?

Did you mean what you said when you told me you could never bring me around your friends?

Do you ever miss fighting with me like I miss fighting with you?

Remember when you almost let me pierce your eyebrow? Evan pierced mine a while ago and I thought about you the entire time he was doing it.

His hands aren’t yours wrapped around my throat. He never squeezes hard enough.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

Speak now or forever hold your peace, James Potter.

“Okay, yeah. Sorry, yeah.”

“Okay. Later, bambi.”

Barty clicks the phone before James can respond.

What the fuck was James thinking?

What was he thinking?

Barty would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small pulse of adrenaline at the sound of James’ voice. A small sense of satisfaction that James had broken the silence between them and called first.

He was going to ignore the fact that James had used the gentle voice with him. The voice reserved for a crying child, a terminal patient, or a scared wild animal in the woods. He was going to ignore the fact that James had obviously called him for a reason and Barty had dominated the conversation to keep him from it. And he was definitely going to ignore the curiosity chewing away at his mind about what James would’ve said if only Barty would’ve let him.

No. Instead, he was going to keep on telling James, and himself lies.

He was fine.

He was happy.

He was better than he’s ever been.

Barty walks himself out to his balcony and lights a cigarette as the cool air kisses his face. He recounts his lies over and over again and counts down to the day they might come true.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“What did you say your name was again?” Barty looks at the sandy blonde boy questioningly. He’s got a smattering of freckles and soft eyes that are shining due to the alcohol.

The bar is too loud for a Thursday and Barty wants to leave, but the man just bought him another round and it would be rude to turn it away.

“Peter.”

Barty nods, tilting his new beer towards him. “Well, cheers Peter.”

Peter offers him a smile as he tilts his glass in Barty’s direction and takes a drink, smiling coyly.

They talk for a minute. This is how Barty finds out that Peter is English and has no job and no house. He came into some money and is using it to travel to as many places as he can before the money dries up. He finds places to stay by matching with people on Tinder or Grindr and he’s out by morning exploring the city.

So in other words, he’s trouble. Which is exactly what Barty’s looking for.

Peter has honey-colored eyes and a honey-colored voice to match. Sweet on the surface with something dangerous and reckless buzzing just below the surface.

They stay until the bar closes and they stay until the parking lot clears out, and then when it’s good and dark and empty Barty slaps his motorcycle helmet on over Peter’s head and tosses him the keys.

He stands on the pavement with his arms crossed and watches as Peter starts the engine.

“Are you sure you’ve done this before?” Barty asks skeptically as Peter hesitates.

“Y-yeah.” He calls over the hum of the engine. “ I had a motorbike– have a motorbike back home but it’s in the shop getting repaired.”

Barty nods. “Well, just take her around the parking lot a few times then. Let’s see it.”

In his defense, Peter was the one who had asked to ride it. When Barty brought up his motorcycle, he watched as Peter’s honey-colored eyes went wide as saucers as he asked to see it. To give it a ride. Maybe Barty should’ve been worried that this stranger would just drive off with his bike in the dead of night with no witnesses and leave him stranded, but he was too drunk to care. It would all be just another story to laugh about in the daylight. Moonlight desert rituals and bass players and motorcycle thieves. All because of James fucking Potter.

Barty watches and snickers as Peter clearly has no idea what to do.

James knew how to ride motorcycles. He would take Barty’s sometimes to the only 24-hour corner store to pick up a watered-down black coffee and a new pack of Parliament’s when they ran out. Sometimes an orange or two if they were hungry.

Peter manages to make it around the parking lot twice before a loud pop rings through the air and causes Barty to jump. By the time he can register what’s happening, Peter is already beside him, pale-faced, and apologizing profusely.

He popped a fucking tire.

The blowout was not a gunshot. Thank god.

He lives another day.

Barty gives Peter a once over and determines that he went smashing into the concrete based on the scrapes to his face and his hands, and the tear in his pants at the knees.

For a moment, Peter looks at Barty like he might kick the shit out of him, and maybe Barty should, but the whole thing seems so comical at the moment that he can’t help but burst into delirious laughter.

Of course, someone named Peter that he met in a bar at midnight would ride his motorcycle once and make the tire pop. That was just his luck.

Without thinking about it, he sends a text to James.

‘Motorcycle tire just popped. Fucking shit.’

His phone buzzes almost instantly in his hand.

‘I told you last time the tire needed air. It was only a matter of time. You should’ve let me fill it up.’

Barty watches James type a message for what seems like an eternity. Then a new message.

‘Are you okay?’

Then it’s Barty’s turn to type forever.

‘Never better, bambi.’

He makes Peter call them a cab and tow company to get the bike. It’s the least he could do. Since he thinks it’s his fault the tire blew out, and Barty convinces him that it is.

Barty says they’ll figure it out in the morning and lets Peter stay at his place until the end of the week. Just long enough for him to see that the motorcycle was getting fixed. Long enough to take him around the city and show him all the best places.

They keep in touch for a month at tops and then Peter fades into another memory. Another story to tell. Another person he was with because he wouldn’t be with James.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

On the fourth of July, he meets Regulus at some party in someone’s backyard.

They’re about to start shooting off the fireworks when Barty sees him. Short crop of curly black hair and a downturned frown.

“Not having fun?” Barty smirked in an attempt to make conversation.

“What?”

“Not having fun?”

“Not really.” The boy’s frown deepened. “Not at all.”

“Oh, what the fuck. You’re French?”

“Very astute observation.” The stranger says as he attempts to walk away.

“Sorry. It’s just, why the fuck would you be here if you could be in France? I’m Barty by the way.”

“Regulus,” the stranger sniffs. “And why the fuck would your parents name you Barty if they could pick from any other name in the world?”

Barty grins at Regulus’ accent and his snark. “Got it. No more questions then.”

“No more stupid questions,” Regulus amends.

They stick together the whole evening as Barty attempts to make the Fourth of July fun for the both of them.

He spends a few weeks with Regulus after that. Regulus speaks broken English, something stilted, but sure, and it rings nice in Barty’s ears long after he’s stopped talking. There’s nothing serious between them. They just spend the summer days sun drunk and carefree. Regulus attempts to teach him French. Barty attempts to make this time different. Neither of them are successful.

“I lied,” Regulus says in a passing moment as Barty gets ready to say his final goodbye. “I’m not twenty-three, I’m twenty. Also, my English is perfect. I was just fucking with you.”

Barty just blinks a few times. “Why do you think I would care about that? Regulus, what the fuck.”

Regulus shrugs. “Just thought you should know. You’re not the only one pretending to be something you’re not just for the fun of it.”

And Barty knows it’s fucked up, but he could kiss Regulus all over again.

He adds a pathological liar to his running list of adventures.

When he returns to his apartment, it’s quiet and empty. He tries to tell himself that he’s okay with that, that he likes it best this way, that he’s never been better.

James calls once again.

It’s become a routine of theirs.

James calls and Barty answers. He fills James’ head with all of his exploits, all of his stories, all of the Pandora’s and Evan’s and Peter’s and Regulus’ he’s been with since James. All of the fun he’s had since the last time they spoke.

But he couldn’t ever let any of them in, because James was already there, taking up too much space. Always there, lying in wait.

Barty keeps on telling his lies and James lets him, but they’re still not coming true. Barty’s counting down the days and still feeling more down than ever. He wishes that James would just call his bluff, hear the falseness in his voice, and yell at him for being irresponsible. But he never does.

It’s not until after Emmeline, Fabian, and Narcissa that James gives him another call.

Barty’s in the middle of recounting his latest adventure when James does it. Interrupts him with a knowing scoff.

“Listen, Crouch,” he says just like he used to. He’s fed up. Barty finally managed to press his buttons once more. “Can we stop doing this song and dance now? Drop the act?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Barty sniffs, still trying to get one up on him.

“Oh sure,” James continues, voice flat. “When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself and to me…I was calling to tell you to come around.”

The words land like cement in his stomach.

“To come around?”

Barty’s heart picks up its pace.

It was a bad idea.

It was a horrible idea.

It would put them right back to where they were before.

Fighting and yelling and waiting for the moon to come out to talk to each other. To see each other.

It would end horribly.

They would burn each other up. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. But God, Barty missed how it felt to be on fire.

“Yeah,” James breathes into the phone receiver. “You know the code to get in.”

Barty takes a deep breath.

What did it say about him that it had been all this time, and he still thought about James and his apartment and his soft sheets that were always laundered every day? James’ hands gripping his jaw. James’ laugh when Barty couldn’t find his jeans that had all been but ripped off of him. James’ sharp sneer and clenched jaw when Barty managed to get under his skin.

It doesn’t take too much convincing. Just lighting bolts of flashing memories. Tooth rot that ached too good to let go.

“Alright. Yeah. Fuck it. Fuck it, Bambi.”

There would be plenty of time for lying to himself later.

And one day his lies would come true.

Just not today. And definitely not tonight.

“I’ll come around.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

inspired by the song pierre by ryn weaver

#nat writes #and nat prays to the lord above that this formats correctly #basically do not read if you're opposed to #jarty croucher #bartydora #rosekiller #bartylus #barty x peter #idk if there's even a ship name for that tbh #<- barter LMAO #barty crouch x james potter #recreational alcohol consumption and drug use #if u remember when i said this would be bartylus...mind ur business #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #okay i think that covers the tagging department

[archangeldyke-all]

Can we get some soft/emotional Sevika?

gonna combine this with another ask i got!

Non sexual intimacy with Sev? She’s so cute and touch starved :(

men and minors dni

sevika loves holding hands. she'd hold your hand all day if she could. doesn't care if they get clammy and sweaty, just wants to be holding you at all times. she likes how her larger hands engulf yours, loves how when you intertwine your fingers hers will reach your wrists and yours will barely cover half her palm.

sevika loves playing with your hair. doesn't matter how much or little you have-- she's always got her hands on your scalp, petting you like a cat.

if your hair takes a lot of upkeep-- she loves helping you wash and de-tangle and style it. she's so gentle with you, careful to never pull or tug. if you're patient enough to teach her, she'll even start doing it for you, her tongue peeking though her lips as she concentrates on properly tucking and braiding and pinning your hair away.

if you give her a back or shoulder massage-- she's out. she'll fall asleep and stay asleep for hours. it's your secret weapon for when she's grumpy and sleep deprived-- you just guide her to the bed under the guise of a nice massage, tucking her under the covers when her snoring starts and pressing a kiss to her head.

definitely the type to tie your shoelaces for you. if you wear heels or strappy shoes with little buckles and ties, she's the one who helps you in and out of them every day, pressing kisses to your ankles when she's finished.

she's not a very good cook, but when she's feeling especially lovey dovey, sevika will cook for you. it's nothing complicated-- boxed mac n' cheese or frozen pizza-- but she'll add a few extra ingredients to make it special. definitely the type to make chocolate chip pancakes with the chocolate chips in a smiley face. or a heart. she presents her creations to you with a proud little smile, which quickly transforms into a grin of victory when you dig in with a moan.

when she needs some extra attention, sevika will complain to you about little ailments that are bothering her. her chapped lips or dry knuckles or hang nails. she adores the way you pout and run to your medicine cabinet, coming back to gently swipe chapstick over her lips, or massage lotion into her hands, or clip her nails with teeny tiny scissors. she loves having you take care of her.

you're the one who trims her hair for her. once it reaches her shoulders, she'll come to you shirtless with a pair of kitchen scissors and demand that you give her a trim. she likes admiring you as you measure the strands on either side of her face to make sure it's even. she likes the gentle way you move her head from side to side as you snip away.

she's always stealing things from you. your snacks, your lotions, your clothes-- she loves doing what you do and using what you use. she likes being yours, it's as simple as that.

you're the only person she'll cry in front of. she doesn't even cry alone. sometimes, she doesn't even realize she's sad until she sees you and starts breaking down in tears. you're the only person she feels safe enough around to be soft in front of. the soft grip of your arms is the only place she can really fall apart.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity

#sevika imagine #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

[kooksbunnnn]

Race me to happiness? Jeon Jungkook

masterlist

Summary: Your urge to beat Jungkook in a race makes you realize how deep you have fallen for him. 

Word count: 1.7k Best Friends to Lovers

Ratings: 18+

Warnings: Just a fluffy drabble with Jungkook being the best boyfiee. They are in a relationship. Mentions of intimacy. Lots of kissing. Reader promotes the Spidey Kook agenda.

Authors note: Wanted to write some fluff before I post some smut.

______________________________________________________________

Okay, this is not what you signed up for when he asked you out. This man might have the cutest bunny smile, the perfect boyfriend behavior, and big strong arms to hold you up and down, he might even be the epitome of the word perfect but the only thing you would like him to dial down about himself is the urge to make you do athletic stuff, like, you are a very tiny human and he expects you to run towards the farthest pillar or the farthest lamp post in your sight in the Han river park?

Could you say no to him? Should you not run along? Would you not comply with all the wishes he makes with that puppy-like face of his?

No to all the questions.

How could you when he gets so excited and smiley making him look like a happy-jumpy bunny when he wins the casual-jogging-but-now-its-a-race? The fact that you don't like to lose too makes you make hasty decisions and then regret them later

Today is no different.

You sit on the grass with a sprained ankle which makes you want to smack your head to even think that Jungkook is unbeatable, for which you are thankful today, because if you actually had outrun him and then twisted your ankle? It was your face that would've been bruised, not the little scratch on your knee, along with the mind-wrecking sprain.

You see him jogging towards you with a cup filled with ice and you smile at him. He sees your hand caressing your ankle making his face soften he jogs up to you faster than before and up close, you can see, the guilt.

He stands in front of you with a frown and looks at you with his facial features all tense. Kneeling down in front of you he brings the ice in his hand to press softly on the sprain for some relief. When you hiss he pulls it away and looks at you with big round eyes, with concern and-

Is he tearing up? Oh no.

"Baby." You call for his attention in a whisper and he looks down in an instant pressing the ice so delicately as if you'd break.

"Baby. It's not your fault." You tell him, tilting your head to make better eye contact but he tries to hide his teary eyes by looking down and concentrating on your ankle. You take his cheeks in your palms and he looks up with a pout your hands created on his face along with his glassy eyes, he tries to move his face but you chuckle and pull him closer by the lapels of his jacket.

You spread your other uninjured leg to accommodate his big body closer to yours, him trying not to put pressure on your ankle. The evening sun gives an orange glow to his face when he comes closer to you, sitting in the grass, with your left shoe lying on the ground beside you with laces untied shabbily.

"It's not your fault, okay? I wanted to win this time. It was an adrenaline thing, baby." You tell him looking into his eyes and scratching his scalp with your nails while you speak, to which he closes his eyes and sniffs.

"I'm really sorry, princess. I should've been more careful." He says nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, sniffling and you feel your insides melt from how cuddly and big and comforting he feels. The way he is not putting pressure on your body, staying away from your ankle, not before he positions the ice box on your ankle somehow perfectly making sure it doesn't fall, makes your heart swell.

"You literally fell down trying to catch me bun. I don't think you could've saved me from twisting my ankles even with your spidey senses. Especially in public? I can't risk people knowing, yeah?" You smile when he looks up at you with narrowed eyes at the spider man comment because of the recent childhood spidey underwear scenario.

"I could've saved your ankle if I was a real superhero though, and make fun all you want, atleast I didn't show up at the fancy dress in a banana outfit. I mean, what were you thinking-" he cuts his sentence with a laugh he lets out making his shoulders bounce, you vibrating along with him.

Cheeks red, you smack his shoulders embarrassed and he pulls himself back from your neck wiping the corner of his eye. Still chuckling he pulls back and you almost whine when he removes the slight weight you felt on your body he was so hard trying to not put.

"I was 9, Jungkook. Nine is a small age." You huff with a pout and he chuckles at your cuteness.

"It was just- there were three other kids with a banana outfit. It was funny, how you looked like a bunch of bananas when you grouped for that picture." He laughs looking at you but stops seeing your pouty face.

He smiles sheepishly and bends to pinch your cheek, "You looked adorable though, baby." You both laugh it out and enjoy the silence while he shifts back.

Sitting back he removes the ice box and changes its position not to make the skin feel numb. You smile at his thoughtfulness which makes your heart fall harder for him. Having been best friends since you were 6 you never knew you would know how much of a loving boyfriend he would turn out to be. Not knowing what forever meant with this man as a kid you thought he would be the best friend you saw in Disney movies or the bridesman at your wedding just like your aunt Ji-ah's wedding.

But neither did he turn out gay, nor he wants to cheer for the groom like a best friend. Instead, he wants to be the groom. You never understood how it happened but one day you're best friends (with one-sided feelings from your side of course) and the next day, he confesses. Since you had been trying to hide your feelings for the sake of the friendship, you felt overwhelmed and cried in his arms confessing your love too. Ending up sleeping on the couch, cuddled up.

He became your special person when you first saw his eyes look at you in a way he looked at the stars, his comfort, when you walked up to his car in a white summer dress for your first date, the memory of him telling you he wants to see you walking down the aisle in a white wedding dress for him just like that in future, is still engraved in your head.

"It would've been more convenient if I were a superhero you know? I could just jump and fly away with you. I think they would last longer than humans with the superhuman strength their balls would have."

How could he be cute and dirty in the same sentence?

"You are my superhero, Jungkook." You reach for his tattooed arm and say this with a smile and he looks up at you with wide eyes and a blush that he tries to hide, smiling. You chuckle at his baby-like behavior, all giggly and peachy, which contrasts his persona when he wants to fuck.

Double bunny, a name Taehyung gave him on one of those nights you and the whole squad plus their girlfriend hung out. Making fun of how he was trying to kill a waiter with a death glare for ogling you up and down but suddenly turned his head towards you with big puppy eyes when you excitedly called his name for showing him the new boba drink plushie you saw online.

You fell for his eyes the moment you saw him sitting alone on the swing. If thats were even possible for a 6-year-old kid.

Jungkook looks around and notices it getting dark, so he gets up, picking up the shoe and your phone beside you, seeing him getting up you try to do that too, but he suddenly speaks with his voice dropping to a lower octave, "Hey?!" You pause mid-movement at his voice, and he clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. Scoffing at how you thought he would let you walk.

"I was picking up your stuff, making sure you don't forget anything and you thought I would make you walk on your own? The audacity, I swear." he scoffs with a smile pulling you up in his arms. Lifting you in bridal style he makes you gasp when you notice attention drawing towards you two, you try to push yourself off him and tell him to put you down. He stands there like a sim with narrowed eyes on you and you wiggling in his arms, letting you calm down from the little protest show you were having.

You stop your movements when your movements cause a piercing pain in your ankle, and you wince. Looking up at him with big eyes, you give up and he chuckles shaking his head.

"You can be stubborn as fuck you know that?" He gives short chaste kisses to your lips, one time, two times, three times, and the fourth time you don't let him pull his head back. His grip on you tightens the moment your tongue pushes past his lips and he groans in the kiss.

You pull back and look into his already dizzy eyes. "Just for you to put me back in my place, Jeon."

"Fuck" he curses with his eyes squeezed shut, you can be a minx if you wanted to be, he thinks.

"Gonna note that for the time I fuck you when your ankle heals, baby." He gives a wet open-mouthed kiss to your cheek and walks you over to the car, smiling at how you blush when people look at you in your boyfriend's arms, placing you in the passenger's seat he bends further to put on your seatbelt. While getting back up you lock your eyes with him, and the love in them makes you snake your hands around his neck, kissing him, you smile in the kiss and he whispers a little 'I love you' in between. Your smile reaches your eyes when you hear him say that. Making your heart flutter.

"I love you too, baby" you whisper back to him, and at that moment, in that closeness, with his breathe on you, with the love in both your eyes and heart you realize you can fall for one person all over again, multiple times and that love can grow up to limits you can never measure.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook series #jungkook x yn #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jeon jungguk #min yoongi #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #park jimin #yoongi #suga #jimin #spideykook #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #btswritersclub #boyfriend jungkook #bts fluff

[cagesofgold]

connie springer headcanons <3

🎵 ivy-frank ocean 🎧

- Connie once a month takes his little sister, Sunny, out on pretend dates to ensure that she knows she should be treated to a good meal and flowers at the door. Connie won’t be letting any little punk date his bundle of joy.

- is actually a decent cook, surprising i know, but he spent a lot of his childhood watching his mother’s careful hands as she crafted various meals, and managed to pick up a lot of things.

- he loves to drive, blasting music, a hand on your thigh and his fav sunnies on, what is there not to like?

- let’s you dye his hair all types of fun colors or some design you saw off of Pinterest. He has good style but he doesn’t take himself serious and doesn’t mind if he has to walk around for two months with smiley faces all over his head. In fact, he loves it. He even let Sunny and Martin draw all over his head like a canvas with hair dye pens, he had unicorns and ninjas embedded in his hair for weeeeeeks.

- his number one priority within dating you, apart from you of course, was to ensure your family liked him. He is extremely family orientated and is most happy when he is surrounded by loved ones. Your family absolutely adored his hilarious self and from there forth he was best friends with your parents.

- wants kids when he’s older, and would be the best girl dad.

- loves movies. He isn’t a guy who would sit and explain the plot of the godfather to you for hours on end but he does insist on decorating your shared apartment with various movie posters. His favorite is “Stand by me”

- would be absolutely heartbroken if you ever watched an episode of a show you were watching together without him. Like genuinely wouldn’t speak to you for a good hour.

-this mf is clingyyyyy, he needs you at all times and has never had the urge to utter the words “i need a little space”, you’re an extension of his personal space, let him stuff his face into your neck in peace.

-loves showering with you, not even in an inherently sexual way, he just adores how intimate it is and the feeling of you gracing his scalp with your nails.

-definitely has tats. In high school he and Jean purchased a tattoo gun and would tattoo people behind the bleachers, but for practice they’d use Connie’s body. Like i said, this mf does NOT take himself seriously and doesn’t care if he has a cartoon dick n balls on his thigh when he’s 80 and sagging.

-is slightly frightened of balloons but pretends he isn’t.

-has two piercings on his ears, his lobes and cartilage.

-absolutely LOVED the barbie movie and was kitted out in full pink. Took you and Sunny to the cinema the night it came out and also paid for dinner after.

- he also took Sunny to a store to pick out a barbie doll.

-english smart, failed every math test he ever took. He still can’t add a fraction…(neither can i)

-loves to press kisses to the side of your face, arms wrapped around your waist and his chest at your shoulder blades.

-will eat cereal at any point, whether it’s morning or not. Would eat it for all three meals.

-despite the fact he can cook and seems to be well adjusted he is unable to survive on his own from the sheer lack of common sense…

-cartwheels when he’s drunk. (and when he’s sober to be honest)

-LOVESSSSS THE CLUB

-doesn’t really get jealous over you, he trusts you and thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, why wouldn’t someone hit on you?

he will however get pouty if he’s literally RIGHT there and the person still hits on you.

-would kill every plant you brought in the house, listen, it’s not his fault he’s got 80 million different thoughts bouncing around his head at all times.

-is more of a dog guy but he wouldn’t argue if you were to get a cat, he loves them too.

-sings everywhere he goes, under his breath waiting in line, in the car, as he cleans, cooks, showers, he never stops, it’s like a continuous string of songs escaping his lips at all times.

-but overall, he’s the best boy friend you could ever have, and he’s already decided he’s spending the rest of his life with you. <3

#connie springer #aot connie #aot x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #connie x reader #aot imagines #attack on titan #connie aot #aot fanfics #aot fanfiction #connie x you #connie springer x y/n

[rrxnjun]

i'm not bitter anymore (i'm syrupy sweet) ;; ljn

pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader genre: slight band au, college au | fluff, hurt/comfort wc: 4.8k (4.817) warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing

a spin-off to my fic i'm not angry anymore (well, sometimes i am) where jeno gets a redemption arc <3

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. Now, rather than a piercing echo, he holds himself to you like a soft melody.

Lee Jeno sits on his bed, chewing on his bottom lip as he nervously types into the chat he has opened, kicking his leg up and down in a steady, but fast rhythm. Looking around the room for one moment, trying to calm himself down with a loud breath in and out, he glances back at the phone screen and rereads the sentence he wrote over and over again, trying to hear it in his own head, desperately needing the tone to be just right.

hey i thought of you while making this haha

Furrowing his brows, he deletes the words he wrote, huffing out in frustration. He sounds too awkward. Too casual, even. He doesn’t know how these two even go together, but somehow, he managed to do it. He didn’t know he was able to get across two very different emotions in one sentence, but he thinks that this is perhaps his new talent. Maybe he can use it in songwriting someday… if he ever gets back into music, that is.

Fastly typing on the screen, holding in his breath, he changes the sentence from its base and finds himself reading over the new one, trying to figure out if it’s better.

hi! i made you this. listen to it if you have time!

His eyes scan over the words countless times again, hating the way it sounds in his brain. This is too enthusiastic. Too joyful, sounding piercing in his brain. This is not how he wants you to perceive him. Not after all this time, not after all the emotions you’ve awakened in him. Is this the same emotion he used to see in Ryusol’s eyes whenever she used to look at him last year? It’s scary to think that he let her down so much, but he finds comfort in knowing that Yangyang was there to catch her when he let her go. Maybe he wouldn’t be so stupid if he understood this emotion all this time ago. Maybe he wouldn’t have made so many mistakes…

Cracking his knuckles, he rolls his eyes at himself and deletes the message again, promising himself that this is going to be the last attempt. He either nails it, or he doesn’t– in this case, he will keep the whole thing a secret and never attempt to subtly hint you his feelings ever again. 

hey y/n :) i made you a playlist 

The message is simple. The smiley face gives it more sparkle, a sense of emotion, even. The tone it reads inside of his brain is casual, but with a giving undertone– he hopes it gets through to you in the same way. Adding the spotify link to the playlist he made for you, he finally presses the send button and throws the phone away to the other side of his bed, not wanting to see you react to it in real time. That’s too stressful. He’s not used to the frantic speed of his heart whenever he’s around you yet.

If he really thinks about it, this might be the first time he’s ever tried for someone. All of those times before, girls threw themselves at him at every step he took, every song he used to sing with his band, making countless hopeless hearts break for him when he only stayed with them for one night. He’s never had to try for anyone. He’s never had to do nice things for someone, he’s never had to pay attention to the conversations he was having, he’s never had to give gifts to girls to get them to be with him. They came naturally to him, and he never really cared about their emotions anyway. Love wasn’t something he was inclined to feel, and he never felt the need to have someone by his side for long enough. 

Perhaps, he was battling loneliness more effectively– without having to try to make someone stay, he chose to have a different girl every night. It was easier. He never got attached, so it meant that he never had the chance to get his heart broken. Sometimes, he didn’t even realize he was breaking somebody’s heart– he never quite understood how somebody could feel deeper for him, when all they saw was the surface he chose to show to everyone at his concerts and after parties. The first time it dawned on him was when he broke Ryusol’s heart. Maybe that was the moment that opened his eyes.

Lee Jeno thinks he’s never tried for anyone before. In his eyes, this is the first time he’s openly caring for someone.

He doesn’t think about all those times he helped you with your assignments. He doesn’t think about all those times he assured you you looked nice or all those times when he went grocery shopping with you at 8pm, even though he was tired and you lived 20 minutes away. He doesn’t think about all those times he’s given you a ride home and about all those times when he walked you to school, helping you revise for your exams.

It doesn’t click for him when he breaks his habits, even. When he doesn’t try to get you to sleep with him the first night you sleep over at his house when you’re too tired to walk to your dorms, when he doesn’t leave you on read for three days or when he actually listens to what you’re saying, offering advice when needed and being the shoulder for you to cry on when you don’t really feel like solving your problems.

It only clicks for him when he sends you the link to the spotify playlist he made while thinking about you late last night, adding the song he recorded about you and posted to his new solo spotify account last week. 

Perhaps Lee Jeno still only expresses himself through music.

Sitting in the university auditorium, Jeno finds himself to be hyper-aware of your presence next to him. You’re sitting in the very last row, accompanied by all of Jeno’s friends– Renjun, Donghyuck, Mark, Jaemin, Chenle and Hendery (even though the band isn’t active anymore and they broke it off for the best for everyone), hell, even Ryusol and Yangyang, even though the boy doesn’t even go to university. It’s kind of surreal how one year can change everything, Jeno thinks; what he thought was the best for him was now broken off, and the friendships he found himself to be mistreating now had stronger bonds than ever. 

He wonders how you even ended up in the middle of it all, in the middle of his small galaxy. You two met in the club, where you were working part-time and he often went to drown his feelings away. After he had a falling out with his friends because of the way he was acting when he was too busy with chasing fame with his band, he found himself to be the loneliest he’s ever been, now that he didn’t have the support of others and the screaming rows full of girls that were all over him. Without the band, he often felt like nothing– worthless, not interesting. 

But then you came– asking him if he was the Lee Jeno from the band, and if he was feeling alright after the band’s breakup. No one’s ever asked him about it before. It opened up a pit in him, made him cross all his barriers and finally let his feelings take over. It’s mainly on you that he managed to apologize to everyone and realize what he lost. 

And ever since that night, he found himself not wanting to let you go.

Nervously kicking his knee up and down, he feels the contact of your hand on his thigh, trying to calm him down. Looking at you from above, he tries to fake a smile as you squeeze his flesh and intertwine your fingers with his, shaking your hands in enthusiasm. Leaning closer to him, you whisper encouraging words into his ear.

“You’re gonna rock it, Jeno.”

Snickering, he shakes his head. “It’s an acoustic set, Y/N. I can’t rock it.”

Rolling your eyes in mock annoyance, you shake your head. “You know what I meant. So stop stressing, you’re a professional.”

It’s been months since Jeno last sang on the stage. His band was no longer in service, but all of his friends and bandmates still encouraged him to join the university’s recital– he was a good musician with a good voice, and his songs had more depth this time around. He almost gets emotional at the growth he’s made, but there’s no time for that when he notices the person in front of him being done with their song, meaning that it’s now his time to shine.

Seconds before he stands up from his place and takes his acoustic guitar with him, you reach over to his hair and ruffle it with admiration. The blush that forms on Jeno’s face is hardly noticeable from the bright lights of the stage, but it still makes Yangyang and Renjun snicker from their seats– they know this state all too well.

Lee Jeno doesn’t realize that now, this is you trying. 

No one’s ever tried so subtly for him before.

“So, which one do you wanna watch?” you ask as you stumble around his messy room, getting his laptop and laying next to him on the bed. You’ve been trying to make him watch your favorite movies with you for the last half an hour, and when you finally succeeded after giving him countless options, he insisted that he’s too lazy to get the laptop himself.

Sometimes, he’s a pain in the ass. But more than often, you don’t find yourself caring.

“Hm?” you poke his side as you turn on the computer and type in his password (that you helped him out with when he first got his new laptop. He didn’t know what to set it as and you told him to make it your name as a joke. He hasn’t changed it since.), waiting for him to reply. 

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “what do you want to watch the most?”

“I asked you first! I’ve seen most of them already, so I don’t really care much,” you mutter, opening Netflix and turning to him when the pincode comes up, raising your brows up.

“0423,” he mumbles before continuing, “why do you even want to watch movies that you’ve already seen? Isn’t that boring to you?” 

“Your pin code is your birthday? That’s… so unsafe,” you mutter as you type it in, shaking your head at your friend’s antics, “and I like watching movies I’ve already seen, because it gives me a new perspective. And also, I like watching your reactions when you watch movies. Your face lights up and stuff, it’s adorable.”

Jeno feels his cheeks getting red again, but he tries to hide it by pulling up the hood of his hoodie, shifting a little in the bed to leave you more space. “Which one have you watched the most times?” he asks.

“Hmm… probably Dirty Dancing,” you muse, grinning, “I’ve seen it like 15 times already.”

“Can we watch that one?” he mumbles, seeing your fingers dancing along the keyboard already, typing the movie title in and searching through the page to find it.

“Why?”

“I dunno… ‘cause it’s obviously your favorite?” he says, not realizing the implication his words have, only stating what he truly means. When you silently click on the movie and let it play, laying next to your friend and putting the laptop onto his lap so you can cuddle into his side, he wonders if this is what all friends do on cold afternoons.

He wonders if there’s something more in the way you wrap your arms around him, if there’s something more in the way you look at him from time to time when your favorite scene of the movie occurs or when you hum the soundtrack under your breath, trying to make him join you just so you could hear his voice. He might have a lot of experience with girls, but when it comes to relationships, he’s utterly clueless.

And when he giggles at the scene with Baby’s sister singing, moving very sternly from side to side, hearing you replicating the scene into his ear almost word-to-word, he doesn’t regret choosing the most corny, romantic movie he’s ever heard of. He might even comply if you asked him to learn the choreography with you. He’s not opposed to anything.

When the movie comes to an end and the final credits roll, he feels a soft peck pressed to his jaw, keeping him from looking at you in fear of not seeing the admiration he so deeply desires to see in your eyes. 

He wonders if this was you trying.

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N?” Jaemin asks one day, silent enough to not make the rest of the friend group hear, but loud enough to land in Jeno’s ears and make him look at his friend with shock.

“Nothing…?” he replies, but already feels his cheeks heatening. He despises how his emotions always show in his face. He wants to be cool about everything, but it’s hard to look unbothered when every small thing about you makes his heart race and makes his brain turn into a fuzzy mess.

“Sure,” Jaemin grins with a knowing smile, making Jeno roll his eyes. Of course Jaemin noticed. He always notices first, it seems– the boy has a good nose for human emotion. Perhaps it’s his very well developed sense of empathy. Jeno wonders if he’s good at relationship advice as well, but since you and him aren’t dating, he figures it’s too early to ask.

“Nothing yet, I guess? I don’t know…” Jeno mumbles under his nose, sensing that he can trust Jaemin. The boy knowingly nudges him into his waist, making the older one (by 4 months only, but that’s still something) grunt in mock annoyance.

“Oh would you look at that, our local player finally let his heart soften for someone!” Jaemin exclaims, still paying enough attention to not being too loud, leaving you deep in conversation with Yangyang and Ryusol in the back of the group. 

“Stop,” Jeno rolls his eyes, but grins at the comment. 

“I love this for you, though. Ever since you’ve known her, you’re different. You’re nicer, you’re paying more attention to others, hell, you don’t even drink anymore. I think this is a good thing,” Jaemin says with an encouraging smile.

“Jaemin, stop talking like my therapist, please,” Jeno mutters, trying hard to compose his expression.

“I mean it, though! It’s… it’s nice to see you actually trying for someone, you know. I hope this works out for you two,” his words are sincere and sweet, leaving Jeno in hesitance. He’s never heard any of his friends encouraging him in a relationship with someone before. He’s never been this close to anyone before, his emotions were never this deep– all of his past encounters with girls were purely sexual, and he can’t even imagine how he could ever live like that.

But before he can open his mouth to reply to Jaemin, he feels your warm hand in his (he doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s you. He’s not used to the feeling of your hand in his– he just purely senses your presence.), catching him off-guard with the feeling of falling he gets inside of his stomach, suffocating a little.

Looking around at you, seeing you smiling, a sentence of “What are you two gossiping about?” uttered out of your lips, Jeno finds himself content with the state he’s in right now.

It feels good to try for someone.

Noticing you shivering as you two sit in the cafeteria, Jeno finds himself feeling like a worried mum for the first time. Squinting at the open windows, as if he could be mad at inanimate objects for the state they can’t control, he curses in his mind at whoever decided it was a good idea to leave them open in the middle of November. 

“Are you cold?” he asks the obvious, seeing you look at him with wide eyes, reminding him of Bambi. A burst of admiration spreads on his insides, but when you reply, he can’t help but glare at you.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You keep shivering. You should’ve taken a hoodie with you, you know it gets cold out here,” he mutters, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“I forgot,” you peep, “but that’s okay. I was stupid and now I have to bear the consequences,” you say, making the boy’s protective instincts kick in once again, finding himself automatically taking off his large hoodie and throwing it into your lap.

“Wear it,” he says.

“But you’re gonna get cold-”

“I can bear the cold. Wear it or else you’ll get sick again, your immune system is more unstable than my mental health. I don’t need you stuck at home with a fever for two weeks again, I’d get bored to death,” he says, trying to reason with you, while also simultaneously trying to make it seem more casual than it felt inside of him.

“Jeno-”

“Can you please just wear it?” he asks, seeing you finally back down, smiling as you put the hoodie on and tug the sleeves down to make the most adorable sweater paws, making the boy coo on the inside.

You look absolutely adorable in his eyes. He never really knew how it feels to see someone you adore in your clothes– while he’s lent his jackets to random girls in the bar countless of times before, it never really held any significance to him. But seeing you in his jacket, drowning in the fabric as he likes his own clothes a little oversized, he can’t help but feel his heart swell with the sight. You should borrow his clothes more often.

Maybe he could “accidentally” leave one at your place once. Maybe you’ll wear it if you find it there. He won’t know about it unless you tell him, but the thought is enough for the boy to go crazy about the imagination.

“You look good,” slips out of his lips, making him instantly curse at himself on the inside. This might just be the corniest situation of his whole entire life– and he’s sent you a playlist before. 

Looking at him from under your eyelashes, you almost look shy as you burrow your nose into the fabric of the hoodie, smiling at him. “Thanks.”

“You can… keep it if you’d like,” he hesitantly says, not knowing what’s gotten into him. If Jaemin was here, he’d scream and yell at him for being this awkward with you. He’s known you for quite a few months now– he should already be used to the way you make him feel by now.

You grin at him as you nod, looking away from his eyes and breaking the burning eye-contact. “Okay,” you say.

The table falls silent for a second, both of you too immersed into your own head to register the quietness, when you move in your place and reach towards your hair, dragging the scrunchie that was holding your hair up off your hair, letting your locks fall free on the gray fabric of Jeno’s hoodie. Running your hand through your hair to shake it off a little and give it volume, you turn to Jeno and take his hand into yours before sliding the light-pink scrunchie onto his hand, giggling at the contrast of it against his all-black outfit.

Jeno looks at you with furrowed brows. What’s this supposed to be? Why is your hair tie suddenly on his wrist? 

When your eyes lock for a split second, you must notice his confusion. “Keep it,” you say. 

And he will. He’s convinced he would keep anything you give him, even if he found no interest in the thing, or if he found the item to be the most unuseful thing in the whole world. It’s from you, so it’s important. 

He doesn’t know what the whole action means– he’s too clueless to understand the girl code. He doesn’t know that this was him marking you his, and you letting the world know he’s yours. The item exchange was solely a game of your hearts. A slight push forward to giving this whole thing a new title.

He doesn’t know that this was you trying. But he feels he’s too impatient to keep waiting for signs any longer.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. 

You never really liked your job at the bar. It was too loud, you came in contact with too many men with high egos that thought they could make your day any better, and you also had nothing else to do than to observe people the whole night. Observing the guests of your bar was one of your favorite activities. Sometimes, you make up a whole story about them in your brain, puzzling the pieces together with a bit of fantasy; sometimes, they come to you and tell you all about their problems and why they chose to drink them away at the bar tonight. 

Jeno was no different. You knew about him– because realistically speaking, who didn’t? He had quite the reputation in the town, and you can’t say that the one he had amongst girls he slept with was a good one. You heard all about him from your coworkers– he’s a showstopper, a bad liar, drama starter, a player, fuckboy… you name it, he’s probably been called that name before. And you can’t say you didn’t believe those words, not when you saw him at the bar with that confident smirk of his every other night, but this one evening, when you actually came in contact with the boy, you thought they might have been lying about him just the slightest.

He came to you with a dark look on his face, ordering himself a drink. He seemed out of it– like most days, lately– and you suddenly thought about all the rumors that spread around the town when his band broke up, wondering if they were true and if he really was such a dick everyone made him out to be. His expression is remorseful, the look never leaving his face, and you suddenly catch yourself asking him if he’s okay, met with surprise in his eyes. 

You think you must be the first one to ever care about how he feels.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. When you get to know him, the contrast between his inside and the act he puts out for everyone to see gets harsher and harsher.

You learn a lot about him over time. They said he was overly-confident when he was starting the band– you just think he was ambitious. They said he was a liar– you just thought he never really had the full picture. They said he was a player– you just thought he never really thought he was playing with anyone’s heart. They all said he would hurt you– you told them you don’t see that happening any time soon.

Nobody believed in him until he put himself back together. Nobody but you.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers into the dark one night, his face illuminated by the show he put up on Netflix to just mumble in the background, when you’re too tired to go back to the campus and choose to stay over at his place, because you sleep better by his side anyway. His words don’t surprise you, if you really think about it– they just fall into place, filling you with a soft harmony, making you 100% content.

Turning your body to him, his expression is nervous and he keeps biting at his lower lip, the habit of pulling at his chapped skin making itself known again like in any situation like this. You don’t even realize there’s a smile spreading on your face, a soft one, to be exact– because that’s how everything with Jeno was so far.

“Can I kiss you?” you reply with a question, catching the boy off guard. Breathless, he nods, letting you completely in, breaking all the walls he’s spent ages building up around himself.

He’s had a lot of experience with girls and you’re sure as hell he’s kissed more than a couple of them in his life before, but when kissing you, he’s as nervous as the first time, a shy boy looking at you from under his eyelashes as you lean closer to him and nudge his nose with yours before connecting your lips together in what feels like a seal of something new.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. When you first kiss him, he’s the softest entity.

There’s something unexplainable about the contrast of his dark hair, harsh jawline and the chains on his clothing with the unbearable softness of his kiss, the movement of his lips against yours almost hesitant to get more, afraid of going too far and messing up the moment. The humming of Netflix is no more than a background noise when you pull away from him for just a second, gasping for air and going for more, this time deeper, letting the boy know that he doesn’t have to fear you, that although you’re fragile, in his arms, you have no chance of breaking. His palm, adorned with cold silver on his fingers, comes in contact with your jaw, steading the movement. The touch burns you up, makes you yearn for more, but he still holds you like you’re the finest piece of porcelain, treasuring you so much more than anyone ever before, the drunkenness of being in love with someone completely changing his brain chemistry.

Pulling away from him once again, the state of him takes all air out of your lungs. In the white glow of the TV, Lee Jeno looks up at you with eyes an endless pool of serenity, all wide and glimmering, his lips swollen and parted, aching for more. His cheeks are a little tinted, his raven hair falling into his forehead a little disheveled, his strong features shining with a softened glow, inviting you in for more. You want to keep this image of him forever. 

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he whispers again, into the dark, making the pit in your stomach deepen. He must have felt like everyone gave up on him– like there was no other script for him and he was left with nothing at all. You wonder if he truly thought he would never get a second chance again. You wonder if he really thought he messed it up this bad.

Something about his words makes you want to kiss him again. You lean into him, catching his cheeks into your palms– almost feeling like you’re holding your whole world– and see his eyes flutter close when your breathing fans over his lips, softly taking him in again. 

His hands are a little cold when he covers yours, still sitting at his face. “I’m in love with you,” you whisper against his lips, thinking to all the times you wanted to say it but couldn’t, knowing it’s too soon and he’s not ready for it yet. You took things at his pace– he’s never been in a serious relationship before, and you didn’t know if he was prepared to have one, prepared to get attached, prepared to let you stay, when all everyone ever did was leave him. You wonder if the trajectory of his life would have gone differently if his father was still present– even though it’s still only an explanation, not an excuse– but you think you’re perfectly content with watching him grow by your side.

When your lips grow tired of the kissing, you smile against each other’s lips, holding each other close. The vulnerability of it all breaks you into pieces and glues itself together in one swift moment, wanting to treasure this moment forever.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. Now, rather than a piercing echo, Lee Jeno holds himself to you like a soft melody.

You’re the first person Lee Jeno ever tried for. But even now, that he’s so sure you’re his and you’re not leaving any time soon, he’s convinced that for you, he’ll always keep trying.

#nct #nct dream #lee jeno #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno imagine #jeno angst #jeno drabble #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct angst #nct drabble #nct dream scenario #nct dream drabble #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff

[lightsoutletsgo]

sparks fly (marcus armstrong)

pairing: marcus armstrong x reader warnings: mentions of creepy guy, simp!marcus, mutual pining, (simp!reader too tbh) word count: 2.6k ahhh I was so excited to write this and I'm pretty happy with it! inspired by 'sparks fly' - taylor swift this does feature some of my other faves from f2 and it's basically because I was rewatching screaming meals episodes while writing this. pls let me know what you think and feel free to request! 🤍

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟” The Mediterranean sun was warm on your skin as you headed down to the beach with your friends. It was summer break during the F1 and F2 season and you’d all decided to get away together. Well, Marcus and his friends, Juan, Felipe, James, Clem and their girlfriends had decided to go on a summer tour and naturally as Marcus’ best friend you received an extension of that invitation. “Marcus wait up!” You huffed in annoyance as you heard his laughter ahead of you, you whined in frustration, lacking any patience as your best friend raced on ahead, sprinting down towards the shoreline of the beach. “Hurry up sunshine!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, “Stop calling me that!” Marcus stopped running and turned back to look at you with a cheesy grin. “You’ve been telling me that for years Y/N, I’m not gonna stop now!” As you stared at the boy in front of you, your heart clenched a little, god you loved him. And not just platonically. You smiled back, wishing more than anything you could just kiss him right now. You curled your hands into fists and dug your nails into your palm to ground yourself, he wasn’t yours. 

            ————————————— “Marcus wait up!” You called after the boy running ahead of you as your 9-year-old legs struggled to keep up. The boy ahead of you laughed as he realised your struggle to keep up, “Come on sunshine!” You growled at him, “Why do you always call me that?” “Because you always make me happy and smiley and you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, so sunshine.” You were taken aback, “Oh…” Marcus shuffled awkwardly before darting forward to press a kiss to your cheek, the two of you both turning pink. “M-Marcus?” You asked nervously, “M-mhmm?” “I like you…” “I l-like you too Y/N, y-you’re…” Marcus paused for a second as if he was thinking about his next words carefully “you’re my best friend.” Even at the tender age of 9 you felt your little heart shatter as your best friend turned crush rejected you, “Y-yeah, you’re mine too.” 

            —————————————

“𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

'𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞”

The music was loud enough to the point that you could feel the bass pounding through your body as you watched Marcus from the other side of the dance floor. You loved this look on him. Care-free. Happy. You giggled to yourself as a very drunk James draped himself across Marcus’ shoulders, trying to press smooches to his cheeks as Marcus battled to keep his face out of reach. Was it odd to say that even watching James drunkenly kiss Marcus’ cheeks had you feeling that same wanting pull in your stomach? You shook your head to clear the thoughts away, downing the rest of the drink in your hand before crossing the dance floor to the boys. You pushed your way through the throng of bodies, wincing and occasionally grimacing as someone’s elbow dug into your side or hand wandered too close to your body. Eventually you pushed through the crowd, foot catching on the edge of the dance floor, you felt your body start to fall forwards. “Woah!” Before you could fall any further, you felt two strong arms around your waist, head jolting up to look at your saviour, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met Marcus’. You let out a nervous breath as he helped you straighten up, “You okay?” You nodded, dumbstruck, as you realised one of his hands had remained on your waist, his thumb gently rubbing soothingly. You held in a shiver as his touch ignited something deep in your stomach that went beyond lust or sexual attraction, something deeper. His touch burned into your skin, so familiar and comforting yet exciting and new at the same time. You pulled away with an awkward laugh, “I’m okay, are you? I saw James’ attack a minute ago.” Marcus tipped his head back and laughed before replying. You cocked your head to one side in confusion, his words lost amongst the yelling and laughing and pounding music, “Huh?” Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. He was so close that his lips gently brushed against your ear, “I said, you jealous?” A flash of panic jolted your stomach, what? Marcus chuckled and poked your cheek as he straightened up, making you glare “I’m kidding sunshine.” 

You stared up at him feeling like time had stopped as you caught his gaze. Suddenly the club felt too crowded, too busy, too intense. “You wanna get out of here?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Marcus I-“ “Yeah sure-“ You said at the same time. You grabbed his hand and turned towards the exit before he could see how flustered you were by his reply. Pushing towards the exit you bumped into Clem who raised an eyebrow and you knew you’d be hearing about this in the morning. 

You tumbled out of the club, wrapped up in Marcus, the refreshing night air of the summer sweeping over you as you felt yourself laughing at nothing. Marcus chuckled and you sucked in a breath as you felt his chest rumble against your back. He helped you walk a little way down the road before you turned to face him suddenly, “I’m hungry! Let’s get food!” The two of you froze as you looked into each others eyes, was it just you or was he leaning in a little- did his eyes just flicker down to look at your lips? Marcus blinked slowly before straightening up suddenly and coughing, 

“Yeah that sounds good…” You bit back your disappointed frown and shook it off, grabbing his hand and taking off down the street again, “Great! Let’s go!” 

      ————————————

“𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

'𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞” Marcus trudged towards his group of friends and flopped down onto the end of Clem’s sun lounger with a groan. “Rough night?” James smirked at him, “Huh?” Clem snickered “You and Y/N left the club together, did you finally make your move?” Marcus pulled himself to sit up, body heavy with fatigue and slight hangover, he sighed, “No…” Clem rolled his eyes as Juan sighed, “Are you serious mate?” Marcus nodded, head feeling slightly foggy as he thought back to the events of the night before. Your eyes, lit up with excitement as you’d grabbed his hand and started running down the street, your smile as you’d stared up at him. And was he crazy if he could have sworn you’d leaned in at one point, almost like you wanted to kiss him- no. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What did happen then?” Felipe asked, taking a sip of water, and wiggling his eyebrows Marcus shoved his shoulder gently, letting out a breath of laughter at how ridiculous his friends were being. “Nothing happened!” Clem snorted, “Nothing?” “Nothing.” Marcus confirmed. “We went to get food, went back to the hotel and she made me binge-watch Criminal Minds with her.” James fell back against the sun lounger in disbelief, Juan shaking his head, “Dude, when are you gonna man up?” “What do you mean?” “What he means mate,” Clem swung an arm around Marcus’ shoulder “is when are you finally gonna grow the balls to tell her you like her?” Marcus sighed heavily, before staring after you giggling with Ines as you scrolled through the pictures you’d taken that morning for instagram, he smiled softly at how pretty you looked this morning. Effortlessly beautiful. “Never I guess…” He cracked a smile when he heard you call his name and as he ambled his way over to you, James turned to Clem, Felipe and Juan, "We have to do something.” “For sure.” “I’m in!”   ————————————

“𝐈 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞

𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭”

Another city on your summer tour holiday, another night out in some club that Clem demanded you all went to. You fanned your face slightly as you grabbed Ines’ arm, “I’m heading to the bar! Want anything?” She shook her head and smiled at you to continue before you turned and pushed your way off the crowded dance floor. Reaching the bar you realised that there were people in front of you so you pulled your phone out to check if Marcus wanted anything to drink. 

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, Marcus’ head shot up when he realised you’d texted him. Looking out from the booth that your group had reserved he could see over the dance floor, across to the other side to where you stood by the bar. He smiled at the sight of you but that smile was quickly replaced by a frown when a man approached you from behind, tapping you on the shoulder and quickly invading your personal space. He monitored the situation closely, his frown growing as yours did. Who was this guy? And why was he being so pushy? Marcus felt himself growing angry as he stood up and made his way through the club, “Baby!” You heard Marcus before you saw him, he slid an arm around your waist and you felt yourself instantly relaxing. You gasped slightly when he pressed a kiss to your temple, “You were taking a while, I got worried… oh! Who’s this darling?” Marcus glared at the guy standing opposite you, “Relax bro, I didn’t know she was your girl.” “Yeah that’s right…” Marcus’ grip on your waist tightened and you felt him pulling you closer to him, “she’s my girl.” Heat erupted across your skin and your stomach flipped as the words left his mouth. ‘Oh god, calm down Y/N’ you willed yourself as the other guy held up his hands in surrender, slowly slipping back into the crowd. “Are you okay?” Marcus hands were on your shoulders as he turned you to face him, eyes frantically searching you for any sign of distress, “I’m sorry I suddenly grabbed you and called you those things, I-I just wanted to help…” “Hey…” You said softly, “I’m okay…” Marcus gave a sigh of relief, hands dropping to meet yours as he interlocked your fingers together. You held your breath, screaming internally as his thumbs gently rubbed across the back of hour hand. “I just… I got so worried, so mad-“ “Why?” “Why what?” “Why did you get mad?” Marcus stopped, breathing heavily, why had he gotten so mad? He knew the answer… did he really want to tell you? “I-I was jealous.” Your mouth dropped open, “Jealous? Why? Marcus he was no one-“ “Because I realised that you’re not actually mine and someone might take you away and take away any chance I have of making you mine.” He cursed Clem for making him shot that tequila earlier, this was not how he wanted you to find out about his feelings for you. He stopped as he looked back at your face, seeing you tear up. “Shit…” He cursed under his breath, he dropped your hands, “Y/N, I’m so sorry…” you reached out for him, “N-no no it’s okay…” You looked around for a second, spotting an exit door to a staircase to an outdoor area in the corner, “Come with me,” grabbing his hand, you made your way to the door. 

In the booth towards the back of the club, the guy who’d approached you approached Clem, James, Juan and Felipe, “Hey, I talked to that girl like you said, hope I didn’t make him too mad though.” Clem laughed before standing up and clapping him on the back, “Not at all, thank you so much mate! Thanks for the support this season too.” The guy laughed as he turned to find the people he’d come with, “No, thank you for buying my friends and I drinks tonight!” With a final laugh amongst all the men at the table and a wave, he vanished into the crowd and Juan was frantically tapping Felipe next to him, “Umm… Look.” The table all turned their heads to see you leading Marcus out the door, “Well damn… Looks like it was Y/N who made the first move after all.”  ————————————

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞

𝐖𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝐈'𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰”

You exhaled as you reached the top step and stepped out into the outside area, Marcus close behind you. “Are you okay?” He stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting slightly, aware that a few minutes ago you’d had tears in your eyes. You took a deep breath, “I’m not mad or upset.” You said quietly, closing your eyes to will yourself the confidence to say the next sentence out loud, “I’m happy.” Marcus took a step closer to you, barely daring himself to breathe in case he suddenly woke up and found that this was all a dream, “Happy?” You nodded slowly, opening your eyes to look directly into his, “Happy because… I know that…” You paused, smiling shakily, he closed the gap between you, grabbing one of your hands in his, cupping your face with the other, “Take your time… I’m not going anywhere sunshine.” You giggled nervously, “I’m happy because I finally know that you feel the same way.” You blurted out. Marcus froze, eyes widened slightly. “Y-you what?” “I know you feel the same way.” Your hands came up to fist themselves in his shirt as you pulled him as close as you could, leaning up to softly press a kiss to his lips before pulling back with a squeak as you realised what you’d just done. Marcus smiled and dropped your hand, instead wrapping his arm round your waist, pulling you in to kiss you once again. You melted into his embrace, hardly able to believe that after years of pining, he was finally kissing you. Marcus was kissing you. You giggled at the thought, making the two of you pull apart, he gently pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then each cheek before kissing the corner of your lips, closing his eyes in bliss each time. “You wanna know something?” He pressed his forehead to yours, “What?” You breathed out, “I’m captivated by you baby… like a… firework show.” You giggled, “Oh really?” He nodded, “Mhmm…”  "You’re cute… now kiss me again?” “You don’t need to ask darling, I’d be happy to…” “𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞”

#mimi.writes #marcus armstrong #f1 x reader #f2 x reader #marcus armstrong x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagines #love of my life 🌷 #f1 #f2 #Spotify

[rataticaisdreaming]

day 1 - chaos @intrualityweek

a chaotic makeup session 💄✨

small fic under the cut 🥰💙💚

[Image Description - A chest up acrylic painting of Remus and Patton from Sanders Sides. Remus is wearing sparkly dark blue and green eye makeup, blue lipstick, green drop shape gems under his eyes, a spiky blue leather jacket with green highlights and a chain earring with three blue earrings on the top. He has red eyes, green long nails and nose brigde piercings. He has a penis and star sticker on his forehead, an R and smiley face one on his chin and a cherry one on his neck. He is holding his silver hair and applying red lipstick on his tongue. Patton is wearing sparkly pink makeup with small pink gems around it, a fluffy blue and white sweater and a pink and blue bear earring. He has a pink hairband with cat ears on his curly blond hair, light blue round glasses and blue eyes. He has a rat sticker above his left eye, a heart one on his nose, a blue heart one on his chin and a blue star and daisy sticker on his neck. The background is black with green and blue liquid dripping down, blue and green shapes behind the characters and sticker like exclamation symbols and sparkles. End I.D.]

Summary: Remus gets a snack during its and Patton’s makeup session.

Pairing: Platonic Intruality (it/its for Remus - he/him for Patton)

Word Count: 512

Warnings: One sex joke / Eating an uneatable thing / Mention of vomiting / Mild Hurt/Comfort / Remus being Remus

"No! Just because it says it's strawberry flavored doesn't mean it will actually taste like strawberry!"

"Only one way to find out Kitty Pat!"

At first, Remus dragged the lipstick across its tongue, leaving a thick red line. It gave a test taste while Patton admired his makeup to cope with the fact that his favorite lipstick would get eaten. Not that he minded tho, after all, it made the duke happy. He re-adjusted his cat headband and with a sigh, looked back at his makeup partner.

"Well…? Does it taste nice…?" he asked, half disgusted, half intrigued.

The other didn't reply, instead, it rolled the lipstick until the whole bar was exposed and bit the entire thing. Chewing with curious, thinking eyes, it spoke again.

"It's so creamy! Like a melted chocolate bar!" Remus said with its mouth full. Patton winced at the sight of its sharp teeth full of red lipstick, it made him gag and he had to look away.

"Please! Just swallow it already!"

"Oooh~ I might swallow another thing tonight if you let me, Cutie Pat" it said. Even when Patton had his eyes closed trying not to throw up, he could still see the smile and wink in that sentence.

Patton groaned at the joke and started tapping the table, looking for his water bottle. He whined when he couldn't find it, but when he did, he immediately regretted it.

His hand knocked the bottle, pouring water all over the makeup table. They both yelped and got up from their seats. Remus acted first, grabbing the bottle and lid to safely close it and put it on the ground.

It thought the small scare was over, but it heard a small whine coming from Patton and he looked distressed. Remus looked back at the table and no makeup got damaged, it was all closed. Only the brushes got wet. Before it could ask what was wrong, Patton grabbed its finger.

"It's all ruined… I'm sorry…" he said in a tiny voice, playing with Remus' finger.

"What's ruined?" it asked, giving the other both hands to fidget. "Nothing is ruined, leave that to me, c'mere.”

It discreetly waved one of its hands to clean up the mess as it guided Patton to the bed. It pulled a box from under the bed and placed it between them. Inside the box there were a lot of individual stickers and on pages. Sir. Froggie the Third was guarding the sticker box.

"Froggie!" he squealed, giving the stuffie a big tight hug. He had a rattle inside, perfect for stimming and calming down.

Remus randomly picked a sticker and pressed it on its neck, then grabbed two star stickers and pressed one on its forehead and one on Patton's neck.

The giggles coming from him caused Remus to smile, calming down as it saw that the other was having fun. They started picking up all sorts of stickers and placing them all over their faces and necks. They forgot about the accident and got a new look they both adored.

#rat's art #rat's fic #rataticaisdreaming #after 3 days... this piece is finished 😭 #patton said “im a barbie girl 🤗” #and remus said “ghost rights 😌” #ISTG THESE TWO I LOVE THEM SM 💙💚💙💚💙💚 #sanders sides #remus sanders #patton sanders #intruality #intrualityweek2023 #intruality week #intrualityweek #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanart #artists on tumblr #painting #traditional art

[shiopi]

pairing: mean!dom dazai x brat!fem!reader

contains: choking, slapping, degradation, dacryphilia, jealous dazai kinda? dazai just being a meanie :( not proofread

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

Dazai loves it when youre being a brat. Constantly going around and flirting with Chuuya, pressing your pretty tits against his arm. The poor executive only wanted to buy some wine when he bumped into you two. His face is completely flushed and he doesnt know how to respond.

Wearing that cute little skirt on your date that does no job to hide your panties and letting it on display for everyone to see on purpose to rile him up. He will make you think that your tactics arent having any effect on him at all, he will be all smiley and his usual cheerful self to see if you will do anything else. If you do something else in public to rile him up more, oh he will be pissed. But he doesnt show it. After your date, he will go back with you to the house. And thats how it starts.

Your cheeks burn from the amount of slaps hes delivered. Eyes glossy and cheeks stained with tears. But he loves seeing your tears so much. You look so pretty like this. His one hand is wrapped around your throat and the other is hooked under your leg and keeping it in place, the leg put over his shoulder so he can fuck deeper into you. His nails dig into the soft flesh of your thigh. Each thrust making you see stars, hitting just the right spot. He is merciless. Your soft pleas like "stop" or "'m sorry" or "too much" fall on deaf ears. As long as you arent using your safeword, he doesnt care.

"You can take it babe. Youve always taken it so well for me like a good girl, right? So be a good little slut and take it, you dumb brat." his grip on your throat releases and he brings the hand up to deliver a slap to your cheek before going back to wrapping his hand around your throat. His sudden change in tone from the oh, so sweet tone to the low growl in that raspy voice makes you almost cum on the spot, your eyes rolling to the back. He knows the effect his voice has on you and uses it to his full advantage. Mean, mean words fall from his lips "Did you like whoring yourself out to Chuuya? Hm? One cock isnt enough for you is it, love? I didn't know i picked up a cheap whore from the streets as my girlfriend." He wont stop till you can't speak anymore. He has enough stamina to go on for hours. Why did you think it was a good idea to rile up an ex Port Mafia executive? He will ruin you. The usually soft Dazai is nowhere to be seen. You riled him up too much so hes made it his mission to fuck the brat out of you.

#bsd smut #bsd x reader #dazai smut #dazai x reader