#i say brainrot because i’m still on my writing break

[rosaacicularis]

scar and grian have been neighbours in every single hermitcraft season ☹️☹️☹️

#their starter bases in season six were close ☹️☹️ #then classic jungle neighbours in season seven #then boatem season eight #and then of course the very unfortunate angle scar saw of dwayne every time he worked on scarland <3 #……… might brainrot a fic about this 👀 #i say brainrot because i’m still on my writing break #btw #fyi #all the little acronyms #desert duo #grian #gtws #hermitcraft

[st4rrth0ughts]

Ok I know I said I’m taking a break but I’m going to just dump this idea and expand on it soon, warnings below

Reader is aven’s bodyguard, mentions of dead body, death, a bit of a word vomit, and a sfw brainrot (I know, shocking, Im writing on the train anyways) probably ooc aven? Prodding at the hsr 2.1 leaks (if ykyk), I’m not in my computer so no more yellow text T-T

Aventurine peeking into your dreams through that phone in the Penacony dreamscape, only to see you, his precious bodyguard, always so stoic and unemotional, breathing hard, in the ‘real’ dreamscape, desperately yelling his name.

but the feelings of happiness, the feeling that he was important to someone, goes away the moment he sees you mortified, staring at his dead body. He wants to just jump into the dream, hold you and tell you it’s alright, seeing the look of panic, desperation and pure agony in your eyes makes his heart shatter. He would never make you cry, and he certainly wouldn’t want to in your own dream, where it’s supposed to be relaxing.

nothing much he can do about it when he stares at the dream playing out in shock, when your begging, begging for him to wake up, praying to the Amber Lord himself that this dammed nightmare would end soon, and that you would see him alive and well again. 

Aventurine has never known how to receive from anyone. All his life, it was him giving, since childhood to his current age as Senior Manager of the IPC. The fact you, on a daily basis, already sacrifice so much for him, your time, freedom, even your own safety, bearing cuts, wounds while Aventurine remains perfectly unharmed was a foreign concept he still struggles to comprehend.

the fact that in a dream state, where your supposed to be happy, thinking about something else, no, even in your dream, it revolves around him. As much as he wanted to be smug and shit and be proud he was the main priority in your life, seeing you quietly sob as you hold the dead body of his doesn’t sit right with him. Never in 700 years. (See what I did there)

the dream ends, and the caller cuts off the call before he can even say anything. He walks aimlessly through Penacony, the dream replaying in his mind.

You crying. You holding him close. Of course, close contact wasn’t exactly unheard of between you two, you always did keep a eye on him, mostly during gambling sessions because of jealous competittors, he can’t count the number of times you pounced on someone for trying to attack him, but to be still cannot wrap his head around the fact that he was so important to you that he was quite literally on your mind even unconscious.

He hears footsteps, and your just right behind him. He always questions and teases you about how fast you can clear up your appearance after it gets disheveled, but he doesn’t say anything as he stares at your slightly trembling hands.

“Apologies for being late, sir. I was caught up in the dreamscape.”

Stop apologising, he wants to yell. You just had one of the most horrific nightmares in your life and your apologising for being late?! He grabs you and pulls you close. Sometimes he wishes he was taller so he could bury you in his chest and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, but feeling your chest in his face isn’t that bad either.

“I’m staying here. I won’t leave you, never did and never will.”

You run your hands through his hair. It’s not just the nightmare, it was the fact you were trying to find him, and overheard his plan to be a sacrifice to reveal The Family’s secrets to the universe. But you can’t tell him that for now, he’ll be sure to make changes so that you can’t interfere and be a self sacrificing idiot (as he puts it). 

So you simply nod, thank the Amber Lord that you have those sunglasses that hide your bloodshot eyes as you let yourself be consumed by his lie of forever.

“Likewise, sir.”

#dom male reader #dom reader #dom gn reader #sub character #sub honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #sub aventurine #hsr leaks #hsr spoilers #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader

[eightmakesonebraincell]

i have a little request! what happens with mafia mingi & yn? do they ever meet again? if so, how?

same with wooyoung! do they still meet at the convenience store every night? did he bring the others over to introduce reader to them?

oh im curious yeahhhhh

ateez as mafia members pt 2

original post here

pairing: mafia!mingi x reader, mafia!wooyoung x reader, mentions of ot8!mafia

genre: fluff, crack, a continuation of the mafia tropes brainrot-fest

length: 2.1k

c/w: explicit language, violence, weapons, mentions of alcohol, unedited

a/n: thank you anon for requesting (and special thanks @sorryimananti-romantic for validating my writing 🫶) this was only meant to be like a five dot-point thing explaining what happens, but obviously mafia!ateez has me in their chokehold. mafia!ateez in my brain: it's free real estate

mingi

it takes a few days for you to reopen your bar after your fateful meeting with ccg

ccg as in cute coat guy

because quite frankly, that night shook you up a little

mingi most definitely notices your absence

but it's not like he can just check up on how you're doing

not when your bar is closed and he has no real excuse to show up apart from "i was worried about you"

after he reports back to base and rejoins ateez, hongjoong's girlfriend offers to hack into the database and find out what your phone number is

("it'll literally take me like, two seconds")

mingi refuses though because he wants to do things the right way

at least...when it comes to things concerning you

after you reassure yourself that the thugs chasing after cute coat guy aren't going to kill you by association, you feel safe enough to open up the mist again

his leather coat usually sits draped over your chair behind the countertop

originally, you think about washing it before returning it to him

...whenever he shows up you suppose

but then you kind of like the smokey smell of gunpowder with an underlying hint of his cologne that is on the coat

so you leave it as it is

in fact, you might have actually worn it a couple of times

you like how the end of the coat brushes against your calves, how the sleeves fall past your fingertips, how it engulfs your entire frame like an embrace

but mostly, you like how it reminds you of the handsome stranger; who claims he is a good bad guy; who you still do not know the name of

you wonder if he made it back safely that night

you're wearing the coat as you're closing up for the night - it's already well past midnight

you're just about to reach for the last glass on one of the tables when you hear the door to your bar opening

"sorry, i’m closed for the nigh- oh," you pause

it’s ccg

who currently has one leg and arm halfway through the threshold of your door, now frozen mid-step at your words

“if now’s not a good time, i can come back another day?” he starts out hesitantly

“now’s great! good. yes,” you chuckle nervously and try not to be too enthusiastic at his appearance. “now’s good, come in”

you catch his eyes briefly flicker down for a moment before they return to your eyes

then he gives you a soft look and greets you gently, “hi”

“hi,” you return, brain shutting down on you

“you look cute in that,” he jerks his chin down slightly to motion at what he was looking at just moments ago

his leather coat

that you are currently wearing

you squeak in embarrassment, hands fumbling to take it off while you vomit out explanations as to why you’re wearing it

your fingers get caught up in the sleeves

but then he is stepping closer slowly so as not to alarm you, before he grasps the ends of the sleeves and helps tug them off your arms

mingi can’t help but use the opportunity to tenderly hold one of your hands

he’s missed the way your smaller hands fit snugly in his

“did you come back for your coat?” you try to break the silence, because otherwise you are afraid he will hear the heartbeats coming from inside your chest

he nods, “wanted to make sure you were okay, too”

there is a third reason that he does not say

that he just wanted to see you

“i’m okay now,” you reassure him

because he’s back now and he’s safe

he folds the leather coat and places it on the countertop before he says, “i don’t think i ever got your name?”

you tell him then ask him for his

“mingi”

“mingi,” you repeat

he repeats your name in return

“mingi,” you say yet again

“y/n”

you both laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole conversation

“mingi, want to help me close the bar?”

and so you find yourself in his company as you give him easy tasks to do

closing up has always been a tedious job, especially when your body and mind are groggy with fatigue

but with mingi around, an accidental brush whenever you shuffle past each other, a conversation easily flowing between you both, you are awake as ever

even long after all the tables and shot glasses have been cleaned and polished, floors swept, bottles of alcohol reorganised, mingi still has not left

and at some point during the night once you two sit at the countertop to rest your legs, both of you have subconsciously inched closer together in your seats, bodies seeking the warmth and proximity of the other

you are unsure how long you two talk for

but just like that first, fateful meeting with mingi, he stands up to take his leave all too soon

“goodnight, mingi”

mingi buffers for a minute before he decides to do it

he reaches out for your hand, clasping it gently to bring it up to his lips as he presses a light kiss against the back of your hand

and with a goodbye of his own, he turns for the door

except he lingers in the doorway, asking, “will i see you again?”

a smile graces your lips at the irony of the situation and you tell him it's not like you'll be going anywhere; he's free to come visit any time

but you also feel your stomach flutter

because last time, you were the one tugging on mingi’s vest, timidly wondering if that was going to be the last you saw of him

tonight, he is the one unwilling to part ways

not to say that you aren’t either

“i’ll see you around, then,” he says with finality, voice still soft-spoken

and then he leaves

but just mere seconds later you spot it

his leather coat

still folded on your counter where he had placed it earlier

"wait, your coat!" you rush outside with it

mingi is only a few feet away

he could very easily turn around and take it from you

but then he just winks, gives you a tip of his hat and says, "next time," before he's walking away again

you chew on the inside of your cheek to stop the silly grin from blooming across your face

because something tells you that you're going to be hanging on to mingi's coat for him for a while

even after next time

wooyoung

it feels like deja vu

a whole gang of mafia members sauntering into your convenience store like a scene straight out of a movie

admittedly, they are much more pleasing to the eye than the group that was chasing after wooyoung weeks ago

but still

these are several muscular men in tank tops, leather jackets and heavy chained necklaces

your hand itches for the comforting weight of the pepper spray in your purse that wooyoung had gotten you just last week

you haven't had a reason to need it since wooyoung basically lives in your store now

and he always walks you home after your shift

but now seems like a more than good enough time to use it

"you usually work the night shift here?"

a voice causes your eyes to snap up

the man at the head of the group addresses you with a quirk of his brow - it's pierced, you notice

"...yeah," you answer

you wonder if this is your last shift at work and at life

and then just like a repeat of last time, you spot wooyoung's frantic bounce of curls appear from across the street of your store

you pray to the heavens above that he isn't being chased by anyone else this time

because the thought of two gangs crossing paths inside your modest store?

you don't think it's going to look like a store after their fight is through

you see the way wooyoung's eyes widen when he spots the thugs just mere feet away from you and you see a curse form on his lips

you just need to hold out until he gets here

wooyoung will keep you safe

wooyoung will-

"then you must know," the man leans in a little closer to grab your attention, "where i can find-"

wooyoung bursts through the door

"-the super sour gummy worms?" the man finishes

you physically cannot help the words that blurt out of you in disbelief, "the fuck you just say?" 

"hongjoong!" wooyoung's piercing shout interrupts you both

wooyoung worms his way through the gang and you stare incredulously at him before you say, "the fuck did you just say?"

he ignores you in favour of pressing his hands against the chest of the man - hongjoong? - and trying to push him towards the doors of your store

quite unsuccessfully, you must add

"the fuck are you guys doing here?" wooyoung yells

"what the fuck is going on?" you demand

"holy fuck, not even hongjoong swears this much"

"fuck yeah, potty mouth!"

"stop swearing you fucktards!"

one of the men who has been lingering on the edge of the group sidles up to the counter, looking at you with an apologetic grimace

"sorry you have to deal with...this," he shakes his head just as another man comes to join you both, "i'm jongho, by the way"

"seonghwa," the other man introduces himself with a gentle voice

these mafia men are surprisingly kind

and normal

except, you suppose, anyone in comparison to wooyoung would be normal

"are you all wooyoung's, uhh, friends?" you don't know whether they know you know

they chuckle, "yeah, we're his friends. his brothers, too, you could say"

you realise the rest of the men have started to settle down and are standing in a rough semi-circle around your counter

wooyoung is currently grumbling and muttering indignantly under his breath with someone's arm thrown over his shoulders, though it looks more like he's a child being scolded by his father than it looks a friendly gesture

"so to what do i owe the pleasure of a visit from all of you?" you ask them, now that there is no swearing being thrown across the room and you realise they aren’t going to shoot you through the head

"had to see for ourselves who was making our wooyoung all smitten. always sneaking out at night like a tween"

"yunho!" wooyoung hisses and elbows said man in the ribs

except with the height difference, it's more like his hips

it's amusing to see how everyone has the upper hand over wooyoung's brattiness

"am i meeting the in-laws already?" you smirk at wooyoung, "you like me or something, jung wooyoung?"

he flushes bright red and you're quite positive that if you made him take his socks off, you would find him blushing straight down to his toes

"that's it!" he hollers, arms flailing and shooing everyone, "out! out! out!"

you know they can easily resist his pushy hands, but they simply snicker and let themselves be herded towards the doors

"bye, darling!" someone jumps up and down to catch your gaze over the heads of everyone else

"shut up, san!"

yunho, you think you recall his name being, flutters his fingers at you cheekily, "we'll be back soon!"

and then he lets out an indignant yelp when wooyoung slaps his back with a screech, "no, you guys won't!"

you're laughing heartily by this point, unrestrained and very much enjoying their antics

"bye, everyone," you wave them off and then blow wooyoung an exaggerated kiss, "see you later, wooyoungie!"

everyone cackles with glee at the sight of him trying to dig himself into the ground

the sound of their ruckus finally dies down as they exit and walk further away from your store

and then you hear a distant wail

"i didn't get my gummy worms!"

you shake your head with a fond smile and take a seat at the register, but not before setting aside a pack of those ‘super sour gummy worms’ for hongjoong

and then, like always, you look at the clock and count the seconds as they tick past

counting down the seconds until wooyoung comes back to see you

again

#loren writes #loren answers #my lil anons <3 #ateez fic #ateez fics #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi fluff #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez au #mafia ateez #ateez fluff #ateez crack

[agaypanic]

Omg I’m obsessed w ur writing! I’m back on my Francis brainrot lol

Could u do a Francis Wilkerson x reader smut where she’s the baby sitter who he’s secretly dating and they let her stay for dinner and then after they have sex?

Keep Your Voice Down (Francis Wilkerson X Reader Smut)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: You’re the Wilkerson’s go-to babysitter, able to handle any of the chaos the boys throw at you. But you’re Francis’ favorite for other reasons.

A/N: i <3 Francis brainrot. Warning for unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it. AU where Piama doesn’t exist. As usual, bc it’s smut i’d love some feedback, no matter how much of it i write it doesn’t get easier lol

CW: p in v intercourse, slight praise kink, begging, thigh riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), semi rough sex

***

You had been the Wilkerson’s favorite, and sometimes only, babysitter since you were 15. It had happened by complete accident. You had become friends with Francis before he got shipped off to military school. He had invited you over one day, and in a rush to get to work, Lois put you and Francis in charge of looking after his brothers. When she and Hal got home that night, you were serving dinner to the boys and somehow convinced them to take baths afterward and go to bed at a reasonable time.

The rest was history.

When Francis got sent away, you started babysitting more to help the Wilkersons out. They usually couldn’t pay you much, but you didn’t care because you got to hang out with boys that were basically gremlins, got free dinner, and when staying overnight, you’d always call Francis.

But the best days were when he was home for a weekend or holiday. It was hard because he was always away, but your friendship developed into a relationship when he came home for spring break one year. It was a little surprising that you’ve been together for so long since you rarely got to see each other, but you made it work. It was significantly easier when he got a job at the Grotto because a lot of his good pay went towards visiting his family, and secretly you. Secretly, because his family didn’t know you were dating.

“Mom, I like Y/n and all. But I don’t understand why we still need a babysitter.” Reese followed his mother around the house while she prepared for dinner.

“You do know I can hear you, right?” You laughed as you sat at the kitchen table he stood beside. 

“No offense, but I’m sixteen. Having a babysitter is ruining my rep.”

“Reese, when you show enough responsibility to prove to me that you don’t need a babysitter, Y/n will stop being your babysitter.” Lois groaned, clearly done with this conversation.

“Mom, if we did that, Y/n would be my babysitter until I die.” You laughed at his seriousness. 

“What’s so funny?” You leaped out of your seat from the voice. Francis stood on the step bordering the kitchen, grinning at the three of you.

“Francis!” You squealed, running around the table to launch yourself into his arms. Working at the ranch must have been a real workout for him because he caught you with ease, not stumbling an inch from your force. “What are you doing here?”

“Otto gave me the week off, said I deserved it for all the work I’ve been doing. So I decided to come up to visit.” He pecked your cheek before setting you down, which seemed to be in a friendly manner. But you knew better. You stepped away so the rest of his family could say hello to him, even though you wished you could have him all to yourself right now.

“Are you on the clock?” He asked when everyone gave him space. You shook your head.

“Not really. Your mom’s here, but I’m keeping an eye on the boys every now and then. I’m staying for dinner, though.” Francis nodded as he listened, and then smirked. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, a hand on your hip.

“Maybe after dinner, we can have some dessert?” You felt your cheeks heat up. Although he whispered so no one else could hear, his tone was bold and seductive. You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure.

“I think I’ll need some convincing.” You responded before walking away, out of his hold, to help Lois with dinner.

You didn’t need any convincing. With how long it’s been since the last time you saw Francis, it took everything in you not to drag him to the bathroom for some quick relief. But you knew that if you held out on him long enough, the end result would be amazingly worth it.

He made sure to sit next to you during dinner. He did nothing at first, putting food on your plate like a good friend would. Casually making conversation with everyone while you ate. Part of you thought he forgot about your little exchange. 

But then, in the middle of dinner, he put his hand on your thigh. It was so surprising you almost choked on your water. Thank God there was a tablecloth to cover his actions. Above the table, he wasn’t even paying attention to you, too engrossed in a conversation with his father about something ranch related. You would’ve been hanging onto every word. You loved listening to Francis talk passionately about anything. But below the table, his hand was reaching the apex of your thigh, gripping it deliciously hard.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” Dewey asked from his place across from you. You cleared your throat, a hand discreetly moving to Francis’.

“Yeah, Dew-Dew. My drink went down the wrong tube.” You grabbed Francis’ wrist, and before you could pry it off you, even though you wanted to do the complete opposite, he brushed his finger against your clothed core. He smirked, drawing his hand away while you took a deep inhale. “Now, keep telling me about that piano competition.”

You insisted to Lois that you help her with the dishes after everyone had finished eating. Surprising to her, Francis offered to help you, saying he wanted to catch up more with you. You talked about everything and nothing, washing and drying slowly to prolong your conversations. 

As everyone started trailing to their beds, you bid them all good night. You made sure to smother Jamie in kisses before he was taken off. Being a baby, he barely gave you trouble and was, therefore, your favorite Wilkerson to babysit.

You waited for the click of Malcolm closing the door to the boys’ bedroom. When you heard it, you finished the last dish and handed it to Francis. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” You dried your hands off and looked at him. He had a stupid smirk on his handsome face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He dried the plate and set it down before turning to you, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. Francis stared you up and down, lip caught between his teeth.

“Oh, please.” You laughed, moving to the living room. He followed behind you. “You knew what you were doing.”

“Just missed you, that’s all.” His hands were on your waist, turning you around to face him in his hold. He leaned in closely, nose bumping yours. A hand slid down to squeeze your ass. “Is that such a crime?”

Francis’ words always had such an effect on you. You’d be flustered one minute, not knowing what to do with yourself. The next, it was like you had become feral, grasping and clawing for any piece of him. He kissed you with such vigor that your knees went weak. Francis led you backward, not stopping until you were pinned between him and the wall. He nipped at your lip and your breath hitched, the pain feeling so good.

“Francis, your whole family’s here.” You whispered while your boyfriend trailed kisses down your neck.

“Then I guess you’ll have to be quiet, won’t you?” He asked, pulling back to look you in the eye. You could barely meet his gaze, eyelids heavy with lust. A hand set against your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. “You can do that for me, right baby?” You nodded, but he clicked his tongue. “Words, Y/n.”

“I’ll be quiet.” You whispered. Francis grinned.

“Good girl.” He kissed you again, the hand on your jaw creeping to the back of your neck. Francis’ words of praise made you wetter than his actions. You squeezed your thighs together, searching for some kind of relief. You couldn’t take the waiting anymore. “Need some help, baby?”

“Please, Francis.” You whined. He made quick work of unbuttoning your pants, yanking them down to pool around your ankles so you could step out of them. He dragged his hands up your bare thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You kept begging and pleading, making sure your voice was low.

And then he brushed his fingers right against your most sensitive spot. You clamped a hand against your mouth to muffle the moan that escaped you.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Despite all the time apart, he found your clit easily, playing with it like a button, begging to be pushed. He pushed his knee forward to separate your legs, bringing you down to grind on his thigh. You gasped, rutting your hips against him with Francis’ help. He pulled you back and forth, continuously teasing your clit.

“God, Francis, please.”

“What do you want?” He locked eyes with you again, refusing to let you get shy with him. “Come on, baby, what do you need? Just say it, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your…” A particularly rough thrust against Francis cut you off. He smirked down at you.

“How can I give you what you want if you don’t tell me?” Francis knew exactly what you wanted. He just liked to be an asshole. Probably payback for you not giving in to him earlier. 

“Your cock.” You whimpered. “Need your cock, Francis.” He grinned.

“See, was that so hard?” He asked condescendingly. Before you could roll your eyes at the tone, Francis grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up. You wrapped your limbs around him tightly to not fall and to keep him close to you. Keeping you up against the wall with one hand, Francis used his other to unbuckle his belt, tugging his pants down just enough to pull himself out of his boxers. He was hard against your thigh, so close to where you needed him most. 

Francis pulled your panties to the side, showing off your pussy to him. He almost groaned at the sight, a sight he missed so much. He grabbed hold of himself, rubbing himself up and down, too agonizingly slow for your liking.

“Francis. Need you so bad.” You ground your hips down, and he got the message. After rubbing his tip through your folds a few times to gather your wetness, he buried his cock in you. You dug your nails into his back at the sensation. He filled you to the brim; the pain of him stretching you felt so good.

Francis didn’t take any mercy on you. He immediately started fucking into you, your head falling onto his shoulder as he turned your bones to jelly. You began to moan at the feeling, but he brought a hand to your mouth to stop you.

“Gotta be a good girl for me.” He panted. “Gotta be quiet. Fuck.” It took everything in you to follow his commands. Francis pistoned in and out of you hard; you don’t know how you contained yourself. “Jesus, you feel so good, Y/n.”

“Fuck, Francis.” You whined against his hand, throwing your head back against the wall while arching your back. He took his hand away to rub your clit, continuing to pound in and out of you.

Francis could tell you were getting close. You were practically squeezing the life out of him, clawing at his back and shoulders, gnawing at your lip to keep quiet because you wanted to be good for him.

“You wanna come, baby? I bet you do.” He teased.

“Please, lemme come, Francis.” You begged, gasping as all his attention on you brought you closer to the edge. “Please, I need to come so bad.”

“Okay, okay.” He shushed you, furthering his assault on your clit while leaning forward to suck at your neck. “You wanna come? Come. Do it.” His words pushed you over harshly. He had to keep you against the wall with his body, the hand previously holding you up now silencing you while the other helped you ride out your high. His thrusts started to become sloppy. “Oh, fuck.” 

Francis reached his peak as well, coating your insides. His thrusts slowed to a stop as you both caught your breath. You gained enough energy to grab his face, bringing him to your lips.

“I missed you.” You whispered after a deep breath. Francis grinned, kissing you again.

“I missed you too, honey.”

#francis wilkerson x reader #francis wilkerson #francis wilkerson x reader smut #malcolm in the middle #malcolm in the middle x reader #agaypanic

[ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater]

Stolen Dance - Yuji Itadori x Reader

Taking a small break from my two Sukuna series to publish this, it's been on my mind for a while especially with tangled Kingdom Dance brainrot (tangled is by far my favourite disney movie) and I just wanted to write some fluffy Yuji to go with it ❤️

Part of my Royal AU

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.2k

“Prince Yuji!” You whisper loudly, “Do not make me do this, you know I never learned to dance!” He looks back at you, still clutching your hand in his with a frighteningly disarming smile on his face that breaks down any argument you had almost instantaneously. “It’s ok, I’m pretty clumsy too, but that’s alright,” He says brightly.

You blush as he squeezes your hand, “I must insist your highness, it is most improper of you to be dancing with someone of my standing!” You hiss. He stops pulling you, looking you up and down briefly. The ball was for his brother, Crown Prince Choso, on his twenty first birthday, and you were a commoner from the town, your father working as a blacksmith and your mother a tailor.

“Who says so?” He tilts his head in such an innocent fashion that your heart breaks slightly. You’ve been friends with the Itadori prince since you were young, your parents were not of high status but your mother was the best dressmaker in Khoccadia, so Yuji’s mother, the queen, called on her often for measurements and orders of extravagant dresses.

You’d often gone with her as her assistant, even when you were young, and she spent an awful lot of time teaching you things you would have learned in school if you’d been allowed to go. When you were not needed during these palace appointments you found yourself in the company of Kaori’s second son, Yuji Itadori.

It has been a fair few years, just shy of thirteen, since you first met him at six years old apiece peeking around his mother’s skirts, your hands clutching a basket of your mother’s sewing implements with her tape measure hanging from your shoulder. Your own dress at the time was a modest pale pink colour, not too different from the colour of his hair, and it was the first thing he noticed and spoke to you about.

“Yuji be reasonable, I am not the daughter of a lord, I am the daughter of a blacksmith and a tailor, if we are seen together in such a public setting-” He cuts you off by stepping closer and using his free hand to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. You fall silent, a blush settling on your cheeks, “Why should I care what they think?” He murmurs, “You’re my friend, and I’m the prince, I should be allowed to dance with whoever I want,”

“It is precisely because you are the prince that we cannot,” You reply softly, looking away from his hand, “I… I cannot bear the thought of so many eyes on me, especially when most of them belong to princesses who would be right at home in your arms in a ballroom,” You feel him shift and look back to see him on one knee before you, his free hand against his heart and still clutching your own.

He looks up at you after taking a deep breath, “Y/n L/n, will you do me the honour and allow me to have your first dance?” You press your free hand to your mouth, a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your dress. This one was made and gifted to you by your mother, a beautiful f/c dress with lacy white flowers embroidered along the bottom hem, slightly off the shoulder with a modest necklace to match, and is definitely fitting of a ballroom of such grandeur.

You see your mother’s soft smile in your head, imagine what she would say if she saw you right now standing in the candlelit hallway with the second prince of your kingdom on one knee, practically begging for you to let him take you back to the ballroom and dance with him. With a deep and shaking breath you let your hand fall to your side, clutching at the skirts of your dress, “You… would seek to steal my first dance like a common thief,” You say, your voice wobbly but your head held high.

He smirks, a wicked thing that sends electricity down your spine, “Oh but I am no thief, my lady, I am but a humble man who wishes to dance with a beautiful girl on a beautiful night, will you be so cruel as to deny me my wish?” The hand that was behind his back is revealed to your eyes suddenly, something resting on his palm as he offers it to you, “Will you go to the ball with me?”

It’s a small bundle of f/c flowers, a wrist corsage with matching ribbons and some intermittent leaves that bring the piece together. You cover your mouth again, tears slipping from your eyes, and he is on his feet in an instant, pulling out his handkerchief and gently swiping the tears away while being careful not to squish the flowers, “Do not cry my lady, it does not befit someone of such beauty,” He murmurs.

“I cry only for you, my sweet prince,” You murmur, “For your heart is as pure as a dewdrop on a rose, your smile as bright as chimes in the wind, I seek only for you to be happy, and if this will make you happy…” You trail off, offering him your wrist, “Then we shall return to the ball together,” He ties the corsage to your wrist with gentle fingers that brush your skin like downy chick feathers, your heart is surely thumping hard enough to be heard from the roof.

Once done he offers you an elbow and you loop your arm through, holding him tightly as your nerves skyrocket. “Allow me to be your knight in shining armour, my lady, I will not leave your side until you declare you are too tired to continue dancing, then I shall escort you to your front door,” You open your mouth to insist he doesn’t have to but before you can he pushes open a door and the sounds of the ball wash over the pair of you.

“After you my lady,” He says, holding the door open as you step past him into the warmth. Once you are inside he is pulling you to the dancefloor with slightly less vigour than he was pulling you through the halls before, and you see him exchange a wink with the band at the end of the hall. The music is quick to change to something light and airy, the rest of the couples spreading out slightly and you take your place in the line of women, standing across from him.

You can already feel the eyes burning through your dress, seeing through your disguise, but he locks his eyes onto yours and you find you cannot look away. This is one dance you can admit you do know, for it is a more traditional one that you have danced with your mother in her sewing room as she seeks distraction from her work, but you did not know Yuji knew it too.

You suspect his wordless exchange with the band has something to do with it, you’re sure they wouldn’t have played this had he not asked, and as the dance begins you find yourself swept in in the tide of people, dancing with anyone and everyone until you reach Yuji at the climax and stay with him until the end, just as every other couple.

You find yourself to be a little out of breath when the song is over and the band’s tone melts into something slower, his arm slipping tighter around your waist and the other sliding up your side to direct your corsage wrist out to the side, lacing his fingers with yours, “Just follow my lead, trust me,” He murmurs, seeing the slight distress in your eyes.

Your torso is pressed up against his, you can feel every button on his jacket and every ridge of his belt, even through your worn-out corset that has really seen better days. Your breath hitches as he starts to move, your free hand finally finding it’s place over his shoulder and resting on the back of his neck, “Yuji, I-” “Shhh,” He murmurs, leaning forwards slightly until his lips are just above your ear, still moving with the music, “You’re safe in my arms, nobody but me can touch you, alright?”

He peeks down at you, “You trust me, right?” Flustered, you struggle to reply at first, but he continues speaking, “When you’re not focused on your feet, you can easily pass for someone who’s had a few lessons,” He’s right, you haven’t been focusing on the movements at all and neither of you has tripped or embarrassed the other.

His grip on your waist tightens slightly as you miss a step, “Hey, focus on me, not on your feet, don’t go ruining your perfect streak just because of something I said,” His lips curl into a lopsided smile, charming and disarming all at once as you fall back into step with him instinctively.

You can hardly call these movements dancing, but nobody else is in a hurry to dance extravagantly so you fit right in among the other couples. “Happy birthday brother,” Yuji nods over your shoulder but you don’t turn your head for the lingering fear of tripping. “Thank you Yuji,” You hear the low rumble of Prince Choso beyond you, and soon he passes into the corner of your eye with a lovely blonde woman in his arms, “It is good to see you well Miss L/n,” He nods to you and you feel yourself flush under his gaze.

“Th-thank you your highness,” You reply cordially, “I trust you are also well?” He smiles softly, “I am happy when my brothers are happy, so yes, I am well,” He glances at Yuji who noticeably blushes for the first time tonight, “Be sure she arrives home safely now brother,” Choso says somewhat sternly before he and his dance partner drift off into the crowd once more.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you,” You hear Yuji murmur which brings your gaze back to his face from where you were following Choso’s departure. His face is soft, his cheeks relaxed and you see a light in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Or perhaps you have, deep in the palace gardens, in your mother’s studio, in front of a huge ornate fireplace in some forgotten lounge room of the palace on a rainy day tucked beneath piles of blankets.

You’re reminded of many moments spent looking into his eyes and seeing an outpouring of unfiltered affection, and suddenly you find yourself overwhelmed. You press further into him, leaning your head sideways against his shoulder as his hand lets yours go and he holds you by your waist, your other arm tucking around his neck too, “Oh Yuji,” You whisper.

He softly shushes you, “I’m not letting you go, I promise,” The music dies away slightly and changes tune again and he is quick to lead you from the dancefloor, his hand staying firmly in yours even under the scrutiny of his father who seems to be able to seek you out no matter where you stand, “Yuji… will you take me home?” You ask once you’re out of the majority of the crowd.

He nods, “Of course my lady,” And the pair of you make the trek to the palace stables where he picks out the sweetest horse for you, a grey mare called Blossom, and then lifts you easily onto her back. You shift until you’re seated comfortably in the side-saddle, afraid of ruining your dress should you sit properly, and he is by your side on his beautiful brown stallion, who you heard him call Ace, before you notice he’s gone.

“Comfortable?” He asks, as if the saddle wasn’t specifically designed for a lady’s comfort in mind, “Let us be off,” The ride is spent deep in wondrous conversation about many things, important and mundane, and when your home is in sight your mother is in the doorway with her hand against her heart, waving happily, “Oh thank goodness you made it here safely!” She says, “A thousand thanks your highness, for bringing my daughter back unharmed,”

Yuji dismounts and then walks to your side, lifting you off your horse with his hands on your hips, “It was nothing Miss L/n, please, just call me Yuji,” “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” You offer quietly, brushing your skirts off slightly as one of his hands lingers on your waist. “How could I refuse?” He smiles down at you, “Lead the way,”

And if, that night, you ended the night by kissing the second prince of Khoccadia, then you were surely dreaming. But if he asked for your hand in marriage not a week later, were you still dreaming? And when your father gave his blessing, was that also a dream?

Your wedding day, more than you could ever hope for and born from a stolen dance, simply could not have been a dream you concluded. Nothing in your wildest imagination could ever compare to the beauty and happiness of that day, and in his arms you knew that nothing could come between you ever again. There was not a single title nor social standing that could come between your prince and his first love.

Hope you enjoyed this, I wrote it all in like two hours when the brainrot took over :))

also because I'm a sucker for yuji+choso sibling fanart please go look at this one by poyopaan here on Tumblr, yes I am starting the fanart thing i said I would before ❤

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #yuji x reader #choso kamo #chase's royal au oneshots👑

[missrhinedottir]

| my muse, oh how it sings |

painter!albedo x muse!reader

warnings: afab reader, he/him pronouns for albedo, no mention of breasts on reader, reader is gender neutral, selfship coded because i’m highkey obsessed with this man, masturbation, no pronouns for reader, mention of pinning reader to the wall, albedo is hopelessly in love with reader, not sfw, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT,

a/n: i had brainrot and rushed to write this, so enjoy my fellow albedo lovers <3

Painter!albedo who can’t get over his beautiful muse. The muse he paints day and night, sunrise to sunset, and still, you haunt his dreams. His very being is consumed by every breathe you take, every single smile and flutter of your eyelashes you throw his way envelope him in a wave of euphoria. He finds himself waking up in a cold sweat, his fingers tangling in the sheets in search of his muse, but ultimately he is left with nothing but the bitter cold of nothingness.

Soon, his painting sessions with you become longer and more… personal. He asks you to take part in an experiment and so you do, trusting him with all your heart. You strip down into nothing but your own bare body and lay in his bed, where the blankets and soft pillows compliment the very curves and edges of your body which he adores. Taking his time he sketches the outline of your body, then dips his brushes into the paint and begins to paint your pretty lips. He continues this until he gets to your hips, that’s when his breath becomes too heavy and labored to continue.

“How about a break?” He says as if he isn’t rushing off to take care of the heat pooling at his very core. Thankfully, you nod and and he frantically sets down his brushes to go to a separate room.

Closing the door and quickly locking it, he pulls out his hardened cock and begins to fist it furiously. The only thing on his mind being your insatiable body and how badly he wants to ravage you, take you for himself and only himself. Albedo wasn’t selfish by any means, but fuck, a jealous man was capable of many things through the sins of his desire. And Albedo was left wanting, needing, nearly begging for more. His existence now depended on you and how sweetly you could sing for him, and oh, how he wished you’d sing your sweet song for him someday.

Albedo pretended his cum being smeared by his hands was your mouth lapping up his cum, licking up every last drop as you made direct eye contact with him. Albedo had the same fantasy whenever he ran away abruptly from his artwork, all in a hurry to relieve the aching in his heart and the throbbing in his core. You’d always look up into his eyes which were brimming with tears, as he looked away in shame he’d continue stroking his cock and pretending it was those pretty lips, or maybe even those hands of yours. Gentle and rough all at the same time, and in the most perfect of ways too.

And as Albedo came in his shaking hands, he swore to himself. Too caught up in his own daydream to realize he was talking to a version of you that didn’t exist, and may as well never.

“Fuck! Yes, jus’ like that. Yeaahhhh, th-that’s i-it! Fuck, baby you feel so good.” He moaned so loudly he worried (and as almost sure) you had heard.

Then, after every last drop was spared into his hands and onto the red carpet flooring, he fell back into the chair, completely out of breath and totally enamored by you. In that moment he wasn’t sure if he wanted to run out and confess his love for you or pin you to the wall and fuck you, but for now he’d have to live in this daydream where the two of you weren’t separated by solid walls and locked doors.

#albedo x reader #albedo x you #albedo x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #albedo smut #genshin smut

[spoopieere]

Very long rant

Just expressing my love for these slashers dw

I think none of you understand how bat shit crazy I am about Asa/Arkin and Preston/Jesse. Because- look, I’ve been all over them since 2020 okay? And for the past 3.5 years, I think about them daily. I think about them during meals, while I’m studying, in class, folding laundry- I CRY OVER THEM FFS. Istg I’ve been crying over them in silly angsts situations that I make up in my mind before I go to bed for the past years. I cried to the point that my old pillow cases literally got tear stains stacking and mold underneath bc of how damp it got. My crying got so severe that bawling my eyes out while thinking about them for 1 or 2 hours straight is normal. I cry about them almost every. Fucking. Night. If it’s mild, it’s 10-30 minutes. If it’s worse, 1-2 hours. If it’s severe, 3-4 hours. I cried so much I had to take water breaks, I cried until my head hurts and my eyes swollen. My nightly-crying streak record is 12 DAYS straight- where I cried over them every night. I can make myself cry on the spot if I think about them for too long. Sometimes they’d creep up inside my thoughts and I suddenly wanted to cry in public. I even shed a few tears during class bc I thought of them. They occupy my thoughts like a plague, I think about them so much that I just casually slip an “Arkin.” or “Preston!!” out loud- because I was repeating a scenario in my head. I even have a little self-insert to squeeze in there.

Once I got introduced to C.Ai, I got even worse because I literally cried from 11pm to 5AM while acting out the angstiest scenarios with the Jesse ai bot while rp-big as Preston. Don’t get me even fucking started on how many tears I shed over Asa ai bot while setting my persona as Arkin ( and vice versa ).

I’m so fucking obsessed I bought a black turtleneck bc I thought of Asa the moment I saw it. I always envisioned Asa as a cat. So now every time I see a video or pictures of cats meowing, abandoned cats or cats suffering, searching for their absent owners I just get sad then immediately get reminded of Asa. I compared Preston to a pigeon so now whenever I see any type of birds at all, I immediately think of Preston. I headcannoned Arkin to like fishing, so now IM interested in fishing. I have a ginormous amount of brain rot over these 4 mfs that- me and a mutual of mine, have texting back and forth all of our brainrot almost daily for THE PAST 7 MONTHS (since last June)- AND WE STILL HAVENT RAN OUT OF SHIT TO SAY YET.

AND- by the time I’m writing this it’s 5:45AM in my country, and I’ve just finished another crying session (over Jesse/ Preston this time) that lasted for over hour. Is this normal?? I don’t think it is. Idk what kind of autistic am I but DAMN-

#all I needed to say I said above #slasher #slashers #asa emory #collectkin #the collector #rottingcitrus #arkin o'brien #chromeskull #laid to rest #jesse cromeans #Preston #preston laid to rest

[wyn-n-tonic]

Well Read

Pairing: Teacher Ben (SNL) x f!reader Word Count: 3.0k+ Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Naughty teacher fantasy talk. Breeding kink. Author's Note: The brainrot settled in fast on this one. The gif is just a gif, there are no descriptions of reader.

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Masterlist

Thunder rattles the old windows in the half rotten frames of the classroom. The glass panes barely hanging on as rain leaks through the small openings around the window air conditioning unit you had to buy with your own money.

It’s been three years and barely hanging on, having been run for eight hours or more every day all school year long.

Ben laughed the first cold day when he walked in and heard the heavy hum, even laughed until you turned it off and let him feel for himself that it’s the only airflow in the otherwise gas range oven that is your classroom.

Everybody has already gone home, it’s well passed three and all the kids who aren’t in electives or detention have left to go live their lives.

Not you, though. Your planning hour was spent breaking up a brawl between hormonal teenage boys fighting over… fucking PokeMon cards because it is apparently still the fucking nineties. No planning hour means now you’re here well after work.

Because that’s the rule this year—work stays at work.

The other half of that is that home stays at home but that doesn’t stop Ben from pushing through the door before knocking.

His own backpack is slung over his shoulder, lunchbox in hand, and he asks if you’re almost finished. “Come on, I want to get dinner started.”

“Then go get dinner started.”

Not cold but not warm either. Flat. Voice pressured down from a day of shit just building higher on shit. 

“We drove in together, sweetheart,” he reminds you. “Your car’s in the shop.”

“I'll take a Lyft,” you shrug, only glancing back up at him long enough catch the way his face falls. “I'll see you at home, I have a lot of work to catch up on.” 

“Hey.” His voice is gentle and you hear the sound of his bags falling on a desktop; hear his footfalls coming closer until his large hand is covering yours. He takes the pen out of your hand and lifts your chin to look up at him with the other. “Let’s call it quits today, it’s been a tough one and I think that you could really use a nice dinner and an even bigger glass of wine.” 

“But—“ You gesture to the pile of essays that need to be graded; the blank test template you need to make copies of. There are no more words left in you today, they’re defeated out by the storm and the air conditioner and the bells and the fighting and all the talking back.

Ben smirks. “Mark all of them with an A, give the kids a break because you need a break, sweetheart, let’s go home.” 

“That's not fair, Benjamin,” you tell him. “That’s not fair to the kids who put the work in on these essays to give everybody the same score.”

He closes my planning book next and takes my hand. “You know what’s not fair? That you don’t give yourself a break—ever. It’s not fair that I had to put a hard rule down on work stuff being brought into our home the moment we moved in together.”

"Please just let me bring this home today, Benny,” you practically plead. “I’ll finish while you’re making dinner and then I’m all yours, I’ll take a break.”

Eyes hardening, he shakes his head. “No, sweetheart, because your idea of a break isn’t what you actually need. What you need”—he bends down, voice lowered—“is a hot bath, a glass of wine and to get every thought absolutely fucked out of your brain.” 

While he lets those words settle into your ears, he takes your hand and examines your nails. “I like this color,” he says, the pad of his rough thumb swiping over the polish. “Brianna’s getting better at this every time and if you don’t think you’re a good teacher because you put yourself first for one night, I want you to think of the very huge impact you have on students like her just by letting her do your nails during study hall.” 

Laughing, you tell him you doubt that. “You're her favorite teacher, she said you’re the first one to not make her read dumbass shit she’s not interested in.” 

“No, you’re her favorite,” he insists, coming around the desk to start packing up my bag for me. “She told me that you let her paint your nails and listen to music even if it has curse words.” He stops, looks down at you. “I also think she’s trying to set us up… should we let her know we’re getting married?”

“Oh, are we getting married, Benjamin?” You ask him, arms crossed. “People who are getting married usually set a date, we’re just engaged.” 

“For now.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

Deep breath. “It will be if you don’t get your ass in the car and let me take you home.” 

Wine in hand, you watch him work from the doorway, wondering how long it will take him to notice you there. On nights that he cooks, the routine is always similar; he puts you in the bath with a very large glass of wine and a book and he takes to the kitchen with headphones in his ears and two deep lines of concentration between his eyebrows. 

No headphones are in tonight, though. Instead, his audiobook plays loudly from the speaker beside the stove. On the way home, he asked if everything was okay other than the school day getting to you. Even with confirmation that you were fine, he squinted his eyes and tried to study you—to read you. 

“Are you going to stand there all night?” He asks, not looking up from the task at hand. “Or are you going to come over here and kiss me?”

Taking the glass from your hand, he takes the final drink and sets it to the side. “We'll refill that later. How do you feel?” 

“Better.” And you can finally appreciate the way his pants are hugging him today; the soft slope of his belly slight but visibly accentuated by the way the belt cuts into him. “You haven’t untucked your shirt.” 

“Was I supposed to?” He laughs.

“I mean… you’re home but”—palming the thick bulge over the black polyester, you push closer—“I’m glad you didn’t, I haven’t gotten to appreciate how handsome you look today.” 

“That’s okay, I’m sure there will be another fan cam tomorrow,” he whispers, fingers brushing along the swell of your cheek. “Do you want to eat and then”—lips drawn tight, he rocks his head back and forth in suggestions—“or do you want to do that and then eat?”

“You,” you tell him, fingers hooked into his waistband to pull him further as you stand up on your tiptoes. “My head hurts and I want you and everything else comes second.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. He switches the burners off with enthusiasm and follows you through to the living room, large hands crawling up the t-shirt that you stole just to land on your bare hips with wide eyes. “Are you not wearing panties?” 

“Wanted to make your job easier for you.” 

All his soothing words make the days and the nights and everything that is hard better; they make everything that is good great. Three years ago when this idiot wandered into your classroom to introduce himself as your new neighbor, he caught you on a similarly bad day and it annoyed the shit out of you. Especially after he made fun of all your maps. 

Now, he’s pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it to the side after throwing you into the never made ocean of sheets and blankets that is your bed. Your shared bed in your shared home. 

He starts to pull at the button up, untucking it slowly and struggling with the buttons out of nerves. That bulge of his is already so much larger than when you groped him in the kitchen and the belt buckle is moving with every shallow, belly breath he takes.

“Come here,” you say, pushing yourself up to your knees and moving forward towards him. “Let me help.” 

Even when he’s the one in charge, this confident man with his soft brown eyes, he fumbles under nerves like he’s half expecting you to lash out in impatience. It’s what his ex did and you’re not a fan of her for it—or anything else for that matter—but there’s something about the relief of safety that washes over him in these moments that warm you up to the tips of your ears. 

You can trust him with your bad days just as much as your good; he can trust you with his insecurities just as much as his confidences. 

“You know,” you start, buttons easily coming undone with the work of your fingers. “Sometimes I think about coming into your classroom on your planning period and having you take me right there on your desk.” 

“On my desk?” He asks through a smile. “Baby, you know how much trouble we’d get in.” 

“Only if we get caught, Mr. Ben,” you whisper against his lips as you push the fabric off his broad shoulders. “Come on, I’ve always had a hot for teacher fantasy.”

“You are feeling better,” he smiles. “Maybe you don’t need me to fuck your brain empty after all.” 

He does it to make you beg and, despite knowing this, you fall for it every time—whine for him every time.

A soft push meets your shoulders and he nods back to the pillows in encouragement.

“Don't take your belt off yet,” you beg him as he follows you up on the mattress but he only laughs, says he has to because he’s been aching after you for hours and needs a little relief now.

Hours but you’ve only been home for one, maybe two. “Are you saying this isn't just about making me feel better?”

He shakes his head, lips pursed, and he throws the belt over to the side as well. “You’re ovulating,” he says, “and the only thing I have thought about since I woke up and checked our fertility calendar is how badly I’ve wanted to get you home and put a baby in you.”

Oh god, that explains so much.

Laying back under his guidance, you spread your legs open for him and watch him take you in. Years now and it doesn’t get old; soft brown eyes studying you in silent awe, mouth open with the occasional smirk pulling up a corner of his lips. It’s like he’s reading how you want it from him and you hope he never stops.

Leaning forward between your legs, he takes a deep breath and then spits on your aching center, eyes up towards you as it falls. He doesn’t wait long after that—doesn’t play with his food as he likes to joke. 

Everything is on fire already as he lays an open mouthed kiss to your core, soft moans vibrating into you and up through your own throat as you grab for his hair. 

He’s a ravenous kind of lover when he wants to be but tonight he seems more focused on taking you apart slowly with the warm press of his tongue between your legs.

Not long and you’re crying for him, actually crying. Softly sobbing his name out as his nose rubs against your clit with his tongue buried deep into your entrance for more than just a taste. 

You can feel him smiling with every shuddering breath as you grasp for purchase on the sheets and pleasure floods your brain. 

Then he takes his mouth away, face shining with your slick as your eyes meet with some kind of electric charge between you as your chests rise and fall in time with one another.

“I feel like I should probably take your temperature,” he says finally, large hands held out as if he’s weighing his options. “Make sure your cute body is the right environment for implantation right now but—“ 

He goes on but you’ve tuned that out, focused in on the deep wells his fingers make as they curve over in a half closed fist. Everything about him is so gentle, including those hands and the way they hold you—the way you know they’d hold your baby.

“You're not a science teacher,” you finally say. “So save the lesson and let me make you a dad.” 

It was one of the first things he ever told you—maybe the second or the third date—when you talked about your dreams and does life now look like what you wanted when you were younger. He’d said his biggest dream was to be a dad. Maybe you shouldn’t have fallen in love with him on those words alone but there was something about him that just made sense and fit perfectly into all your big dreams and big plans too. 

You could see a future with this man—a family and years of happiness in those soft brown eyes.

Pants off now, he fists himself as he crawls back onto the bed. You just had sex two nights ago and, yet, somehow you feel like you haven’t been full for him in weeks. The thunder hasn’t stopped either and it’s amplifying how intense it all feels with him right now but, then, it always does when he talks about the big, life altering things he wants with you.

Slowly, he pushes in, grip on your hips tightening with every aching inch he gives to you until he’s fully seated. Those hands run up the expanse or your body beneath your shirt as he gathers the fabric and gently pulls it over your head as you lift up towards him. Only then, after a quick look down your body to the place you’re both connected, does he lay himself down on you. 

Face still shiny with what you’ve given him already, he smiles into the small, closed lipped kiss he presses into you.

“Your mustache is soaked,” you tell him when he pulls back, trying to ignore the pulsing inside of you. 

Those lines of concentration back between his eyebrows, he nods and starts to pull out of you before pushing back in with a groan. “And this needy little pussy is why.” 

“Is pussy an appropriate word for a highly educated English teacher to be using?” You ask, goading him into coming back down and pressing that tongue of his into your mouth this time. “Such profanities are unbecoming of such a man—“

“Your cunt,” he interrupts you, one hand coming up to rest around your throat, “is so wet that I can feel it pulling me deeper and all I’m doing is just sitting here, looking at you and trying not to bust early.” 

“It's okay if you do," you shrug. “You've already given me an orgasm.” 

But he shakes his head and leans back down, tells you to open your mouth and spits there too before pushing his tongue flat down on yours. It catches you off guard just enough that his first real thrust is even more of a surprise and that grip he holds on your throat moves to cradles the back of your head.

The sounds in the bedroom are lewd and only covered by the sound of the rain and thunder that continue to shake the walls of your home. 

He’s not rushing, though. Not trying to run through you like just another task. The care he takes with and the concentration he places into you are the reasons you find yourself over the edge in such achingly efficient time. But that doesn’t mean he follows you over and calls it a night. 

No, he takes his time until you’re nothing but jelly in his hold. Eyes glazed over, curls wrapped around your fingers and begging for breath and God and him with every thrust that feels like it goes deeper and deeper. 

“Are you going to make fun of me if I tell you I love you?” You ask against his lips as his concentration and pace both start to falter. “Because ovulating or not, you would’ve still fucked me like this just for having a bad day and I-I—oh fuck—” Your muscles are seizing up beneath the surface of your skin and it pushes a moan straight into his greedy mouth. 

“I would never make fun of you,” he breathes out heavily. “I would fuck you like this even if we couldn’t have kids; I will fuck you like this on every good day or bad day you have for the rest of your life if that’s what you want.”

Languid and slow, the way his tongue moves against yours is confusing your interpretation of his rhythm between your legs even as it picks up again. Every nerve in your body is screaming for him, alive and on fire beneath him and around him with his soft kisses and hard thrusts. 

A deep sigh of relief finally leaves his lips as he swells inside of you and warmth rushes through you and out around him to start pooling and cooling beneath your bare body. 

Being finished doesn’t mean he leaves though. He stays inside of you, twitching and thrusting occasionally as he continues kissing you with his hands hooked around your shoulders and every ounce of his body weight pressing down into you. 

This man treats you with an intimacy you never knew could exist. Not for you, at least. He is hungry and in love and both insatiable for and always satisfied with you. He reads you like he wrote you; knowledge of your body and your brain and your heart encoded so deeply into him and you know—you feel it deep down in the pit of your being—that this will only grow as you do and your family does.

"Did that help get all the thoughts out of your head, sweetheart?” He asks, laying his forehead against yours.

A few deep breaths is all the confirmation he needs until, finally, you say, “I think I forgot to turn off the air conditioner.” 

#lol what to tag this as? #teacher ben my beloved #teacher ben (snl) #mr. ben (snl) #teacher ben x reader #teacher ben x you #teacher ben fanfiction #mr. ben x reader #mr. ben x you #lmao wtf #snl #saturday night live #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #o writes

[chloeangelic]

Why does it seem like everything you've put out lately is just trying to rip off netherfeildren? Like the art, the plots, the aesthetics... Especially weird since you used to seem to always hype them up

I went back and forth on responding to this but I’ve decided to because I don’t appreciate having my integrity questioned. I kind of expected that I'd get something like this because there are some thematic similarities between Seeking and SWITBOSH. However, I won’t respond publicly to anything else like this cause I think we’re all very over The Discourse, and tbh it’s a massive fucking insult to accuse me of ripping someone off when I’ve spent seven months writing ca 200k words of fic and developing my own unique style of writing. If you can’t see the difference between two writers, just because they write emotional depth and full sentences, then please read an actual book and not just brainrot fic. I’m gonna properly address everything under the cut - anon domming is back on the menu today. 

That being said, because this feels weird and uncomfortable for me and likely for Vic, I’m turning off anons for the time being and I’m taking a posting break to decide whether I want to continue posting here at all or continue posting purely on AO3. I post there anyways under the same name. If you still have a bone to pick with me or my writing, please message me directly. Please do NOT pester Vic about this, I know very well that she does not enjoy The Discourse or any sort of drama. Everyone is sick of the copying discourse - please have some trust in writers’ self awareness. 

Firstly, the words “recently” and “plots” should be defined here - I personally don’t see how stepdaddy Joel, pornstar Tim, sex addict Dieter, baby daddy Javi or any of Love Me back is similar to her works at all. The Seeking teaser I posted yesterday was similar to her Pink teasers purely because it had text on a photo - my text wasn’t even from the fic, it was a quote that represented the series as a whole and the quote that finally made the series crystallize in my head. It’s the quote I want people to have in the back of their mind when they go into reading it - it’s from the song that I consider the series theme. Our formatting is not the same. Yes, I have quotes at the beginning of the chapters - my friend sent me a bunch of poems and a couple, I felt were relevant to the story so I wanted to add them somehow. Several writers do this. I stopped putting in previews above the cut cause it was making it difficult for me to write the beginning of the chapters. My masterlist art is the same as, like.. Everyone’s else’s masterlist post - the norm on here is to have an artwork from Pinterest, the title slapped on top and the writer’s name. I literally just loved Pascalisbaby’s masterlist art so much I decided to do it too. 

When you say plots, I’m assuming you’re drawing parallels between Seeking what is desirable and Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband because cheater!Joel (or maybe even Pink cause DDLG, but I’m literally in a DDLG-type dynamic irl and I decided to incorporate it into a fic for once - there were CLEAR ddlg undertones in Love Me Back, it just wasn’t explicit. I also wrote several chapters of Seeking before Pink even came out, and I wrote a cheating + father in law oneshot this summer). 

The MC in Seeking is based on myself and my own life, moving away from my parents in order to live with my boyfriend at the time very far away, who ended up being extremely absent and shitty. MC+Jeremiah relationship is based on Adam and Hermine from EXIT, Jeremiah is based on Tony Soprano, Gwen is based on Janice Soprano + a story I heard from my cousin about how his wife let him do all the childcare while she went on a women’s retreat. They are not in a marriage of convenience, the MC doesn’t feel bad about the affair at all, she never pushes him away, and Gwen has no plans on leaving. Sarah and Ellie are both 16 and living with Joel in Seeking. The MC does not have similarities to Sarah like she does in Love Me Back (which was also literally based on my own life) or Someone’s.

MC is a teacher who cheats with Joel - so is the MC in my post outbreak series I wrote many months ago. They're drawn to each other immediately cause I hate slow burn fics and I didn't feel like writing two chapters of him fucking someone else this time around. She goes out intending to cheat, and he thinks it'll sustain him for the next several years. The first thing I thought up in this entire series was Jeremiah - I had his character crystallized in my head for weeks before I planned anything else.

Of course Joel is unhappy in his marriage - neither Vic or myself would write a Joel who cheats for fun, that’s just not something either of us finds interesting. It actually started as a Sopranos AU, but I decided against going that route cause I don’t know enough about white collar crime. Also, if you are familiar with my writing you’ll know I love writing infidelity - it shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m writing a series with this as the central theme. The central question for Seeking is when is it okay to cheat? That’s what the entire fic is about. It’s not about him finding the love of his life after marrying someone else (like the summary of Someone’s), it’s about two instances of cheating and how we justify those two scenarios. Of course it has a happy ending - I’ve used up my non-happy ending quota for the year. 

I’m not sure what you mean by aesthetics - Vic actually edits really nice graphics for all of her Mando chapters. She spends a bunch of time on those, and you’re doing a disservice to her by overlooking how unique her artwork is and how much effort it takes. She also made really cool teasers for Pink. I’m way too lazy for any of that, I just slam a moodboard together. I started doing 3 slot moodboards cause the 6-7 slot ones were a hassle. The fact that only art pieces are used in this series is half coincidence, half me being sick of trying to fit Pedro pics into the moodboards when the colors are often wrong. 

I literally texted with her when I planned this series, saying I was afraid people would accuse it of being a ripoff of Someone’s, purely due to the Joel infidelity + uninterested wife factor, and she did not think the overall plot was similar enough to be of concern. I still hype her up, she just doesn’t post as often now so I don’t reblog as often, that’s pretty simple. I’ve also asked Iris, my editor, SEVERAL TIMES if it reads too similar to Someone’s or anything Vic has written - she is extremely familiar with both of our works and she did not think so. What exactly am I supposed to do when I’ve gotten the green light from everyone? 

This specific anon didn’t mention the actual writing, though, which is funny and it makes sense because I don’t write like Vic and I don’t try to. Her vocabulary is way larger than mine, the diction and syntax are not similar at all. She actually uses metaphors, I use them very rarely and only when it’s super dramatic. My writing isn’t poetic, it’s not flowery, it’s not formal - it’s literally just how I think inside my own head. When I read my own writing, I imagine Charles Gross doing a dramatic reading. I learn like one new word every month and eventually I’ll add it to my writing when it’s something I’m confident using irl. She has a lot of depth to her fics, I also try to write with emotional depth - I’m sorry if that’s unfamiliar in a landscape of dbf porn with no plot and 5 word sentences (I’m shading my own first series here). Seeking reads more similar to the first series I ever wrote, which I never posted, than anything else I’ve written. Half of Seeking is also straight up daydreaming sequences cause that’s literally how I think - the MC lives a boring life and daydreams, so do I. 

I’ve learned a ton from reading Vic’s stuff - I don’t read that much irl cause I rarely find English novels captivating, but her writing has really made an impression on me. I talk constantly about how much her writing makes me cry, and it really does. Reading her stuff has absolutely influenced me to be more confident about weaving in actions and little plot points that are more vulnerable and personal to myself, and that adds a lot of depth it otherwise wouldn’t. I’m very inspired by her, of course I am - but I know the difference between being inspired and trying to leech. 

I’m sorry my writing style has developed. I’m sorry I no longer write like I did in April, with matter-of-factly short sentences and little emotional depth. I have short series and long series because some plots deserve more emotional depth and some don’t need it. I wouldn’t bother writing anymore if all I did was shady lawyer Joel or Father Joel and I never improved. 

If you don’t enjoy my writing, please just unfollow. I’ve seen other fics on this platform that read similar to mine, some that have exactly the same plot points/origin stories, and at no point have I thought they were ripping me off. At some point, this specific fandom needs to realize that it’s possible for two writers to have similar ideas without it being one person copying the other. My personal opinion is that if you copy someone’s plot, you won’t be able to execute it well because you don’t have the ideas necessary to actually flesh it out. If you’re familiar with my writing, you know damn well I’m capable of coming up with my own ideas and plots. I feel zero need to rip other people's in order to gain traction - I have enough followers and idgaf how many notes anything gets. Please don’t overestimate my ability to give a fuck about my popularity in this fandom. 

Anyways, thanks for making me want to vomit, anon, you truly made me feel like shit today and I hope you have a great night! I’m not sure how much I’ll be checking tumblr for a while so feel free to message me on discord under the same name.

#chloe answers

[crazylittlejester]

Daily brainrot delivery. :)

I had to go to town and that gave me a solid hour to think about the brainrot.

LU EAH AU: I'm considering the problem of Time/Mask, and I think I've largely come to the conclusion that I'm going to write him as Mask. Partly because I don't think I can do a longfic with Time (yet), and partly because the main story is going to be taking place either prior to or during when Warriors' story was supposed to happen. (Technically, all the stories are somewhat going off the rails because that's half the point of EAH, but that's beside the point.)

Switching topics, I've been thinking about the whole blood curse thing with Hyrule again. I've looked, but I can't find any canon material that says he has a blood curse, even though that's what's in the fics I've read. It's still a cool idea and I like it, but I'm baffled because what I've found sounds like it's basically just... a recipe? Like an evil cookbook or something. The most instructions I can find say to kill him and then mix Ganon's ashes with Link's blood, so I'm assuming that the killing part is important to the process somehow.

I am now going to be haunted by the image of bokoblins baking Ganon-bread in a kitchen, using Ganon's ashes as flour and Link's blood in place of water. This is why I can't have nice things.

I really need to get around to writing that piece of Hyrule angst I've been mulling over on and off because the sheer vagueness of the whole resurrecting Ganon ritual thing is just too much to resist. Like, dude, can you imagine knowing that monsters want you and your blood to resurrect the guy you just murdered, except you have no idea how it works so you have no idea what exactly you're trying to avoid other than the general dying and being used as an ingredient part? That would keep me up at night. Because it could be just the blood and ashes that does it, but what if he has to be 100% dead first? That's a huge difference. Hence, the angst stick.

i told myself i was gonna take a break from tumblr for at least 48 hours cos I’m not doing too good but I caved for a second just to check my notifs and see if I missed something super important, and I WAS RIGHT ON TIME TO SEE THE DAILY BRAINROT AND I GOT SO FUCKING EXCITED. The daily brainrot actually cures me, istg

OOOOOOH i love Mask so much, and I cannot wait to see what you do with him. LU EAH AU my BELOVED, grabbing it like a rubber chicken but also holding it so gently

Yeah I don’t know where the curse thing came from either, but it is now canon to me that the bokoblins gotta bake their Ganon bread, that’s fucking hilarious

YEAAAAAAAAH SMACK HIM WITH THE ANGST STICK, there is not nearly enough Hyrule angst in this world 😔💔

anyways THANK AGAIN FOR THE DAILY BRAINROT, I SERIOUSLY LOOK FORWARD TO IT EVERY SINGLE DAY :)

#jes talks #jes ask #DAILY BRAINROT #!!!!!!!

[shima-draws]

Hi! I'm the anon with the Cinderella/Sanji cooking for Luffy story! I'm so glad you liked it I just couldn't get it out of my head. Sanlu/lusan is literally so cute and wholesome. Please please please write a fic about this!! It would make me so incredibly happy.

Also, just to add on to like, the Sanji giving the food to the starving girl thing, reading back on it, Sanji definitely could have given her the sandwich instead, and he would still be doing a nice thing but HE GAVE HER THE SPECIAL DISH BECAUSE THATS JUST WHO HE IS.

On luffy saying "him. I want that one" - I just think it would be so funny if like, his pirate crew is doing this as kinda a hoax thing, where they're just trying to calm down the masses, but luffy throws a wrench into their plans by being like guess whose getting married!!

Anyway, I'm glad you liked it and thank you for your response!!

(Answering this late like a loser I’m SO sorry lol)

!! I’M GLAD I HAVE YOUR PERMISSION again I’m Really Bad at finishing fics but at the very least I can start it and try to get the plot going <3

YEAHHH I feel like in the moment he wouldn’t have even thought about the sandwich at all. He’s like I have this dish that I spent so much time on and really I could call it my masterpiece and I’m going to give it to this girl because she needs it more than I do. Again Sanji giving up his freedom to save someone from hunger is so……..breaks down crying

LMAO that’s also something that’s so on brand for Luffy, to take something his crew started as a joke/a fake out and making it real because he got Attached. I just love the vision of Nami and Usopp making fun of the whole situation and being like “Can you imagine Luffy getting married? LUFFY??” and they laugh it off but then Luffy shows up with Sanji and is like “Hey guys I’m engaged now :DDDD” and they’re like. What the FUCK, Luffy you had ONE job!!!

You’re so welcome again thank YOU for the adorable AU idea 💖 I’m brainrotting over this so hard rn actually

#Shima answers questions #Sanlu #Lusan #Sanji #Luffy #One Piece

[jazzfordshire]

Ms. Fordshire! Hello, do you have a minute to answer some questions from Supercorp News Network about your latest red-hot fic? It’s all our readers want to hear about right now!

How long did it take for the crew to figure out that it was fake??? What tipped them off? I would’ve thought Kara and Lena were pretty convincing, since they were actually so smitten with each other. And why did they never say anything?

Why Metropolis? Do you feel bad for Lena always having to be the one to move across the country in fics? Do you really feel that Kara is a rover who’s been trying to move on and find something new ever since she was adopted? Or did you just feel like changing things up this time?

Will Kara keep in touch with her friends from National City? (Half of them are her exes, anyway!)

Was that a hint of reignssistant????????? (But even if not, it was great – Jess should absolutely be welcomed into the group, and Lena needs some more good friends.)

How do you keep coming up with original, fresh smut every time?? This is, like, your 800th Supercorp fic with copious smut, yet you keep surprising us, with Lena’s fantasies and her piercings and tattoos and Kara’s reactions and Lena’s exhibitionist kink and so much good dirty talk... (And you keep futher exploring your authorcanon of Kara not liking penetration.)

How will we hear from you next? Will it be the ‘90s librarian AU? The Practical Magic AU? The Paladin AU? Would you rather not say yet? Or will you be taking a break from publishing (which would be toooooootally your right if that's what you want)? Your fans are dying to know!

Lmao hello thank you for the questions! I will answer to the best of my ability!!!

- Lena and Kara did put on a good show, but each crew member figured it out at a slightly different time! Lucy knew pretty early on, specifically because having dated Kara she knows how Kara acts in a relationship, so she knew Something Was Different and deduced based on Lena’s behaviour and Alex’s level of stress over the whole thing. Putting on a good show when you know people are watching vs in little moments where you think no eyes are on you are very different things, especially for Lena! And from there I imagine it spread as things do through a close knit borderline incestuous friend group, with the agreement that they would let them figure it out on their own (with a few little nudges)

- The Metropolis decision was mostly because in most fics where I have Lena move she starts the story unhappy in her job or already thinking of relocating, but in this one she’s mid-takeover and went on the show as a bid to help the process. Restarting L-Corp is really important to her, whereas Kara is on DWTS mostly because it was the best paying gig and she was waiting for something to come along to motivate her to move on.

- Kara will absolutely keep in touch! My headcanon is that some of the other cast end up moving to Metropolis as well.

- It was a gentle hint at it maybe perhaps🤫 they bonded over fielding Lena’s self-delusion!

- I actually really appreciate you saying that, because after writing SO MUCH SMUT I do worry I’ve become repetitive! Writing smut is my favourite part of any story, I find it a really satisfying method of character examination/development, but I’m always worried it’s getting stale for people who have read all my other stuff. I’m glad it isn’t, and I truly have no idea how it comes out of my brain! I just conjure my little scenarios and hope for the best.

- Right now I’m working on the Practical Magic and 90s Librarian AUs, with the Paladin au on the back burner. Not sure which will start up first! Not taking a break though, the supercorp brainrot is still going strong. 💕

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 37 🔞

Prompt: Your ex married someone else, but a drunken hookup reveals feelings still exist on both sides

Tags: Drunk sex, cheating, unprotected sex, somehow this bitch turned into a wholeass fic

A/N: Cheating fics are my guilty pleasure. Cheating fics where they find out they still love each other is basically crack for me. I don’t condone cheating or engaging in sexual activity while drunk or high IRL. The good news is this is fiction so onwards! Also you can blame Mingi’s new song for this brainrot

“Mingi?”

“Yunho?”

Mingi knew he was drunk, but he couldn’t possibly be drunk enough to hallucinate a whole person. A whole person he hadn’t seen or spoken to in 5 years. A whole person who also happened to be the love of his life.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked.

“Bar hopping for a friend’s bachelor party. What are you doing here?” Yunho asked.

“Getting drunk,” Mingi replied. Yunho stared at him for a moment then started laughing. “What?”

“I guess that is what you do at a bar. Mind if I sit?” he nodded to the seat next to Mingi.

“Go ahead,” Mingi shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t having a series of small heart attacks over seeing Yunho again.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Yunho waved at the bartender. The ring on the fourth finger of his left hand flashed in the dim light.

“You got married,” Mingi said.

“I thought you heard,” Yunho said as the bartender slid the glass over to him.

“I did, I guess I just…haven’t thought about it,” Mingi told him. Yunho had married one of the richest men in Korea so even though their mutual friend group was torn on whether or not to tell Mingi, the news did it for them. “How would he feel about you talking to your ex?”

“He’s out of the country right now. Happens a lot when you’re a big shot CEO,” Yunho replied. If Mingi didn’t know any better, Yunho’s voice had an edge to it. Mingi also noticed that Yunho dodged the question. “Jesus Christ, are you drinking lighter fluid?”

“Just cheap whiskey,” Mingi laughed.

“Good gods, I think it burned a hole in my esophagus,” Yunho coughed. Mingi gave him a few solid slaps on the back.

“That’s what happens when you get used to the expensive stuff,” he said.

“Actually I don’t really drink much these days,” Yunho replied.

“Oh,” Mingi noised. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone more than 24 hours without drinking. It had become a habit along with a lot of other less than desirable traits. The breakup blindsided him, the marriage less than a year later knocked him back down, and he’d stayed there ever since.

“I mean, I’ve been drinking and I’m definitely feeling it. This was better than sitting at home by myself on a Friday night,” Yunho told him.

“Yunho!” they turned around and someone Mingi didn’t recognize was waving in their direction. “We’re going to the next place!”

“Well, it was good seeing you,” Mingi said. Yunho looked at him for a moment then back at his friend.

“I’ll catch up with you. I’ll text you when I’m leaving!” he yelled back. His friend looked like he was going to argue then simply gave him a thumbs up.

“I’d rather catch up with you,” Yunho told him.

“Isn’t really much to tell,” Mingi said as he finished his drink.

“Then in that case,” Yunho forced himself to chug his drink. “Do you want to dance?”

“Dance?” Mingi repeated.

“There’s music. There’s a dance floor. I would assume that means dancing is encouraged,” Yunho said. Mingi never really noticed the dance floor. He came to this bar because it was cheap, the drinks were strong, and it was walking distance from his apartment. Before he could form a reply, Yunho had already pulled him up and had him halfway to the dance floor. He let Yunho pull their bodies together and hold on to Mingi’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho blurted out.

“For what?” Mingi asked even though he knew what Yunho was going to say.

“For breaking up with you. I should’ve at least given you a hint or a chance or something. Now I’m stuck married to someone I rarely see and when he is here I’m just arm candy if we go out. I can’t remember the last time we kissed, much less had sex. I don’t necessarily believe in fate, but I was hoping to at least make out with a stranger in a bathroom tonight,” Yunho said.

“You came out tonight intending to cheat on your husband?” Mingi asked.

“I guess so, yeah,” Yunho sighed. Mingi was stunned. He never would’ve guessed Yunho was willing to cheat. It wasn’t who he was. Of course, a lot can happen in 5 years.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider me as an option,” Mingi said. Yunho responded by kissing him. He held Mingi’s face in his hands as his tongue made its way around Mingi’s mouth. Mingi returned the kiss, pulling them even closer. Their hips were desperately grinding together. Mingi hooked up with guys regularly, but none of them could ever compare to Yunho. And it wasn’t only because he had a massive cock.

“My apartment is 2 blocks from here and I’m up for more than just making out,” Mingi said when they finally parted.

“Sounds perfect,” Yunho agreed.

“I do have to pay my tab first,” Mingi told him.

“Let me,” Yunho said. They stumbled back to the bar and Yunho pulled a black card out of his wallet. “For both of ours.”

The bartender examined the card, but this wasn’t the kind of place where people used black cards.

“Okay,” he said. The tab was paid, the card was returned, and the couple stumbled out toward Mingi’s apartment. This was beyond his wildest dreams. He’d resigned himself to never seeing Yunho again, much less touching him or kissing him. Yet here they were, making out in the elevator of his building trying not to strip each other. Through some minor miracle they made it through the door before the clothes began to come off.

“This is new,” Yunho traced the butterfly tattoo on Mingi’s neck with his lips. They’d made it to the bed and Yunho was in Mingi’s lap, both in just their underwear. “And you never used to paint your nails.”

“I guess I’m going through my emo kid phase about a decade too late,” Mingi replied, leaning back and resting his weight on his hands basking in the feeling of Yunho’s mouth on his neck. Yunho’s hands roved over Mingi’s torso like he was trying to remember the shape of it.

“I think I like it,” Yunho said.

“Good,” Mingi replied.

“So, like I said, I haven’t done this in a while, but if you want to…” Yunho began.

“No, no condoms. I get tested regularly,” Mingi cut him off.

“How do you know that was what I was going to say? I could’ve been suggesting you top,” Yunho laughed.

“Because I know you. Even after all these years, I can’t forget a single thing about you even when I wanted to. You asked every time if I wanted you to use a condom and the answer every time was no. Also, I think we both know you topping is the better option,” Mingi replied.

“You’re just saying that because I have a big dick,” Yunho kissed him.

“Maybe or maybe why change it when it works?” Mingi told him.

“Fair enough,” Yunho agreed. “Personally, I think we’ve had our underwear on way too long.”

“I agree,” Mingi nodded.

“Lie back,” Yunho instructed when Mingi handed him the lube after they were naked. He warmed it up on his fingers and slid one finger into Mingi.

“Yunho, I,” he gasped.

“Relax, let me take care of you. Let me do what I failed to do before,” Yunho replied. Mingi’s heart clenched. What he failed to do before. “I assume you’ve been taking smaller cocks?”

“I don’t need forever to be prepped,” Mingi said.

“Just confirming,” Yunho grinned down at him and was suddenly 3 fingers deep in him. Mingi grunted in surprise. “What was that about not being prepped?”

“Shut up,” Mingi glared. Yunho didn’t reply, he kept opening Mingi up.

“I think you’re ready,” Yunho declared, pulling his fingers out and watching Mingi clench around nothing.

“Yunho,” he whined.

“Don’t worry, baby. Just one more thing,” Yunho took his wedding ring off and put it on the bedside table. Then he lubed up his cock and slid into Mingi’s desperate hole.

“You’re…shit…fuck…” Mingi grunted.

“Forgot how big I was?” Yunho teased.

“Maybe,” Mingi whined.

“I’m gonna take you slow. Make you feel every inch of me. You’ll remember soon enough,” Yunho told him, bracing himself on his arms looking down at his former lover.

“Please,” Mingi whimpered.

“Of course,” Yunho began to slowly undulate his hips. As he moved, memories came flooding back. Ones Mingi thought he’d buried forever. Their first time. The time on the table at his parents’ house. Their anniversaries. Worst of all, their last time.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Yunho lied on top of him and kissed his jaw.

“I can’t let you go again. I can’t,” Mingi whispered.

“You won’t have to,” Yunho replied. “I saw you tonight and I knew. I knew I could never leave you again. I’ve been paying for leaving you every day since I did it. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You can’t say shit like that when you’re balls deep in me,” Mingi looked at him.

“Too late,” Yunho kissed him.

“Fuck me like you mean it and I’ll consider taking you back,” Mingi ran his fingers down Yunho’s face.

“Well since you put it that way,” Yunho sat up, pulled Mingi’s hips up onto his thighs, and began fucking him harder than he’d been fucked in years. Mingi didn’t even have to touch himself. Yunho could make him come on just his cock. Yunho would make him come on just his cock.

“Open your eyes, baby,” Mingi hadn’t even realized he closed them until Yunho said something. Mingi opened his eyes and they stared at each other as Yunho tipped Mingi over the edge. He didn’t know he had that much come in him. Yunho kept going until he was satisfied that Mingi was fucked dry. Then he leaned back over and with only a few more thrusts, his cock was emptying into Mingi. Mingi relaxed even more as he felt Yunho’s hot come shoot into him. Yunho rolled them over when he finished so Mingi was on top of him.

“Did you mean what you said?” Mingi asked as Yunho played with his hair.

“I did,” Yunho replied.

“But you’ll lose everything,” Mingi said.

“If by ‘everything’ you mean expensive shirts and black cards then yes, but I’ll have you back. I’ll have the only person I ever loved back,” Yunho told him. “Though I might have snuck a clause in the prenup that I’m no longer bound by NDAs if we���re divorced regardless of why so I can keep the expensive shirts and black cards even if he finds out I cheated on him. Even if that wasn’t the case, I’d rather be happy and middle class than rich and miserable.”

“I never stopped loving you, even when I wanted to,” Mingi propped his chin up on Yunho’s chest.

“I never stopped loving you either. I was just an idiot,” Yunho replied.

“Yes, yes you were,” Mingi said.

“I won’t fuck it up this time. I promise,” Yunho weaved their fingers together and kissed Mingi’s hand.

“I believe you,” Mingi smiled. “I believe you.”

#just fucking write 2k24 #minors dni #ateez fanfic #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #song mingi x jeong yunho #mingi x yunho #ateez yungi

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

Cyno passing out from illness situations that got me goin brrrrr

he’s been sick for only a day or so, but I’m imagining it’s horrific food poisoning. Maybe his go too restaurant has finally failed him. Regardless Both ends, and both ends a lot. It’s a wonder he still has so much in him kinda wonder like how is he still getting sick?? So he’s dealing with that, and per his and Tighnaries agreement when it hits late at night he wakes nari up. Tells him he feels like death, can hardly talk around the nausea. And while he knows he isn’t bout to puke he does know he doesn’t have long till he needs the bathroom anyways. He rushes off and the cycle begins. Now, I’m imagining later, after a few rounds of illness if your choice, nari is up trying to find something he can take to help calm his stomach. Cyno then comes *wobbling* out of the bathroom and in a full daze seems nari out in the kitchen. Hunched over, and shivering. Maybe Cyno mumbles something to him and as nari turns around he sees Cyno- his brown skin gone practically grey- and sees him DROP to the floor.

tighnari is fast, he does to grab him but not before dropping the tea or whatever he was holding, and maybe Tighnari gets hurt too. A cut or a burn or something that requires attention later 100% plus his anxiety is through the roof cuz holy hell normally he can catch it when cyno is looking pale.. but it’s late at night and the sickness came on sooo fast, and neither of them are awake enough to navigate this normally. And now Tighnari has a passed out boyfriend, a broken mug and an injury to deal with. What does he address first? How does Cyno end up coming around and how does he deal with knowing how much chaos nari had to deal with all on his own? I feel like in the end Cyno would try hard to reassure and calm nari down despite being sick, because frankly Tighnari was * scared *

also I think cyno trying to comfort Tighnari while still in the recovery position and still feeling wretched is both really endearing and kinda funny

WAIT WAIT WAAAAIT I LOVE THIS, I LOVE THIS SO MUCH—

This actually feeds heavily into my brainrot, because even though I'm in more of Lyney mood right now, I have been brainstorming for the next Cynonari fic on my list 👀

Okay I'm absolutely in love with this. First of all, yes to that scenario, I'm really craving a severe sickfic. Like give me a character that borderline has to consider the ER because they're that sick. And of course poor Cyno is a brilliant candidate, because he always is! (I'm so sorry Cyno, I really enjoy making you miserable in my writing)

I've also been thinking a lot more about the whole "Cyno gets light-headed when he throws up" thing, so your timing is brilliant with this ask.

I'm envisioning this already.

Cyno is approaching, his legs like jelly beneath him. Tighnari hears his footsteps and hears him say something, and he's opening his mouth to tell Cyno he shouldn't have come looking for him, he would have been right back- only before he can make a sound he locks eyes with Cyno and sees just how horrific he looks. And it's like everything goes into slow motion because suddenly Cyno's knees are buckling and Tighnari sees his eyes start to roll back, and he just throws down whatever he's holding and sprints to catch Cyno. He catches Cyno in time but his own balance is thrown off and he basically goes down with Cyno, but it's okay, he stopped Cyno from getting hurt or knocking his head on anything.

I can see Tighnari remaining calm on the outside, but on the inside he's panicking. When all is said and done later and he finally gets to breath, I imagine him just sliding down to the floor somewhere with his back against the wall and breaking down into silent tears because he can't remember the last time he was this stressed out and worried over Cyno.

Also that image of Cyno trying to comfort Tighnari while he's still in the recovery position pale as a ghost,,, I can't decide if I want to cry or laugh at that 😭 That is really sweet and loving and wholesome, but Cyno you really are in no state to be doing the comforting

Damn I love this idea, I might need to work it into the last Cynonari Novemetober fic??

#earthquake author's note #earthquake rambles #sickfic #genshin sickfic #genshin emeto #emeto #nausea #emeto fic #sickfic headcanons #sickfic prompts #sick cyno

[lipglossanon]

OMG MY TUMBLR KEEPS CRASHING WHILE IM TRYING TO TYPE THIS OUT RAAHHHH anyways, i saw this edit earlier of a re4r mod that like, adjusts the camera and so there’s this one clip where u can see leon just straight up manspreading and it was so hot HES SO HOT i just wna sit on his lap and cockwarm the shit outta him, you feel me?

and ofc this is gna turn into another thirst for stepbro leon bc why else wld i be here 🤭 i just imagine like, leon trying to study for college exams or smth and reader is laying on his bed, scrolling on her phone, bored out of her mind before suddenly feeling that familiar neediness springing up when she looks over at leon, sat at his desk, studying his books and notes, man spreading a lil in his chair and looking so studious, and asks, “leon..can you take a break? i need you” she says while pouting but only gets a, “no, sweetheart, i’m sorry, but finals are coming up” (this just reminded me that i have finals coming up too NOOOO💔💔💔) and ofc she’s whining and making somewhat of a fuss abt it but is just getting ignored by him which slightly annoys her before she tosses her phone aside and gets him, crawling under his arms and sitting in his lap. at this point, leon just lets her do it since she isn’t really doing much. right? WRONG. she starts to quietly whine in his ear, talking abt how much she needs him and it gets to the point that it’s annoying him that he eventually grabs her by her throat with a mean glare and a slight squeeze

“you wanna be a needy slut, huh? want my cock so bad?”

and she just nods eagerly, thinking she finally got her way as he pulls his pants down, pulls her shorts and panties down to just hang off her ankle before sliding his cock into her already soaking wet hole before cooing at her with mock sympathy, “there, happy?” but she’s just too cockdrunk to pick up on it as she nods and tries to move against him, but before she can even move so much as an inch, he’s holding her hips harshly and bruises are probably going to show up later

“you have my cock, now be a good girl and sit still, or you won’t get anything”

and she’s on the verge of crying out about how unfair he’s being before she sees the look in his eyes, as if daring her to disobey him before she meekly nods and tries her best to not move around as leon goes back to studying, thrusting up occasionally just to get a little reaction out of her before going completely still again

😵‍💫😵‍💫 brainrot, SORRY IF ITS NOT GOOD I AM NOT A WRITER😓😓 i was also having thoughts abt exec!leon fucking virgin!reader bc i can not get that one part of the fic outta my head..but that’s gna hv to wait for another time bc i hv a 5 page rough draft to write for my writing class tomorrow😀😀👍

-🪷

🪷 anon, never apologize for writing because you’re brain has beautiful thoughts 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 (and like a link to that mod vid—for scientific purposes of course 😌 😜 )

And you wanna know what’s insane?? I’m literally in the middle of writing a cockwarming fic for stepdad Leon 😱 so surprise I guess *jazz hands* 😜

But oof Stepbro Leon making her sit there while he studies for finals 🥴 🥴 I’m gonna have to take this and add it to my list (which is predominantly Stepbro Leon; he got everyone in a chokehold 🤤)

Haha no worries!! Thank you for sharing cause that’s so hot like it’s not even funny 🥵 🥵 and exec Leon is way more popular than I thought he’d be (very pleasantly surprised! 💜) and good luck with your rough draft!!! 💕

#🪷 anon #stepbro!leon s kennedy #stepcest #lipglossanswers #lipglossanon

[depressopax]

Hii I hope you dont mind me requesting Howie again, but could I request a hurt/comfort scenario of him taking care of a sick fem!reader (she’s having a cold) I hope you have a great day and thank you againn :]

HIIII thank you for requesting again!! <3 And dw about it! I'm just glad you like my stories and want to request again :)) So if you have ideas lmk! :D Hope you like it!! Sorry for the wait! But here it issssss (The plan was to make all the characters on my BrBa/BCS masterlist but my brain is fried atm 😭 But I also added Nacho - because Ignacio Varga brainrot <3)

Taking care of sick reader | Scenarios

Fandom - Better call Saul

Pairing: 1. Howard Hamlin x gender-neutral reader 2. Nacho Varga x gender neutral reader Genre: Fluff, headcanons Warning(s): - Words: 0.7k Summary: How would they take care of their sick partner? English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 » Masterlist || Request «

Howard

“Morning, sweetheart! Ready to start the day?”

You grunt in reply and puld the blanket over your cold body. Howard is already up, enthusiastic as always. But today you’re too tired for that. 

“Come on now… You’ve been snoozing for 20 minutes!”

“I don’t want to…”

His smile fades and he sits down on bed next to you.

“You alright?” He reaches out to stroke your cheek and notices how cold-sweaty you are. “Hmm… That’s not good.” 

“I don’t feel well.”

“I know, sweetie, I know…” 

I feel like he’d be like: YOU’RE SICK??? 😰 at first

But then be like: You’re sick… 💔 If that makes sense LOL

Probably scared of catching a cold etc

But he loves you - so it’s worth the risk 😌✨

Howard is the guy that helps you with everything once sick

He fixes food, makes sure you keep warmth and makes warm tea etc

He basically acts like a maid for you until you feel better lol

But he doesn’t mind, at all <3

He likes taking care of and spoiling you 

“Are you cold, darlin’?” he asks, proceeding to wrap a blanket over your shoulders.

“No, I actually feel quite warm” He looks concerned and feels your forehead “Your fever is not going down… Do you want something cold instead? Water, ice cream… Are you laughing?” “Sorry… You’re just so cute when you’re worried!”

Also… You being sick gives him an excuse to just sit back down and cuddle you

He allows himself to be “lazy” (aka taking a break and not overworking) when you’re around

He loves to set you down in the couch and put on some movie to watch together

If he can’t be at home with you - he texts or calls you at least once throughout the day to check on you 

It doesn’t matter if you only have a simple cold, he’ll take care of you until you feel ok again 

He probably would end up sick too 😭 “But at least we can stay home together now!” he says after waking up with the same cold you had. “...But Howard, I need to go back to work today” “...Oh ☹” But you’re of course there for him too until he feels better <3

Also - I found these two Howard out of context screenshots on my PC LOL, thought you might like them!! 😭

Nacho

“You’re burning up” Nacho mutters, still having his palm pressed against your sweaty forehead. “I’m fine, Nacho”

But the fever thermometer says otherwise.

“Yea… Fine, huh?” He scoffs and strokes the hair that's glued to your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. “Rest.” 

“But…”

“Rest.” His voice gets softer “Let me take care of you, ok?”

“...Fine.” 

He smiles at this.

“Good.” 

This man… (God, I love him, I need him <33)

He’ll be all 😐 towards everyone, all the time

But not with you.

Whenever you’re doing poorly, he’s right there. Whether it’s mentally or like in this case - when you’re sick.

He’s the guy that will grimace and be really judgy if someone sneezes or coughs in public, but he tries his best to not be a baby about it for you.

And he’s good at it

Truth is, he somehow likes it when you’re sick

Just because he’ll get to take care of you 

And have you all dependent on him

It takes his mind off all his troubles, and he can focus on you only.

He brings you tea, soup, painkillers… Whatever you need - whenever.

He also appreciates cuddling up next to you and watch TV, letting you pick out whatever

It’s just comforting to him - somehow - to feel your fever warmth against him.

Basically - he’s already a sweetheart, but becomes the most caring (and worried) boyfriend ever when you’re sick. <3 “Nacho, don’t be so close, I don’t want you to be sick too…” “I don't care.” he murmurs

…And eventually he ends up sick too lol

He’s really overdramatic about it 😭

Before meeting you - he’d overwork himself and not give a damn about resting

But since he takes well care of you - you of course do the same for him.

So when he eventually catches a cold, you’re there for him “Well look at that… Told you that you’d get sick.” “...Shut up.” “Will you let me take care of you?”

And of course… He lets you

Homeboy gets overdramatic af when sick 😭

He likes seeing you all worried for him - it’s cute lol

Nacho makes sure you’re cuddled up next to him all day 

And now it’s his turn to choose movies/series for you to watch with him

“Hey?” Nacho whispers after you’ve both shut the lights off for the night. “Hmm?” “...Thanks for taking care of me.” “Of course, Nacho. I love you” “Love you too”

If you guys liked the concept of this I can make a part 2 with the other BrBa/BCS characters! Lmk and thanks for reading <3 Been feeling down lately but I have plans on some stuff I wanna post this weekend :)) Looking forward <3

#better call saul #howard hamlin #nacho varga #x reader #scenario #headcanons #fanfic writing #writeblr #aspiring author #fanfic authors #breaking bad #brbabcs #fanfiction writer #fluff #nacho x reader #howard hamlin headcanons #howard hamlin x reader #better call saul fluff #better call saul fanfic #writers of tumblr #fanfic writers #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader