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#Silkye
sepherinaspoppies · 4 months
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hunger - michael gavey x reader
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summary: the things Michael does for a crunchie bar.
warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of oral m receiving, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, f squirting.
wc: 2,366
masterlist
notes: my first time writing for Michael lol. yes I did watch the movie and im still appalled by it (too much dick). like all of us, I wish Ewan had more screen time on this cause I felt pretty bad for Michael. he just wanted a friend 😩. I plan on writing another fic about him but when? idk I have too many wips
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She uses the pad of her thumb to collect the line of cum that had trickled down the corners of her lips. Bringing the digit back into her mouth to suck off the pearly white liquid, all while seductively gazing at the disheveled boy that sat on the edge of her bed. 
Michael let out a breathy moan, feeling his softened cock rousing back to life as he watched her throat swallow every bit of him again. She hums at the taste, salty with a hint of caramel from all those fucking crunchy bars he devours everyday when she’d seem him in class. 
She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly. 
“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm. 
Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes. She grabs his hand and doesn’t fail to notice it was a bit clammy with nerves, and it almost made her feel slightly bad about continuing but the way his blue eyes darkened when she directed his hand toward the hem of her floral dress, made her think differently. 
His fingers work at lifting up her dress. A deep shade of crimson floods his perfectly sculpted cheeks as he awkwardly and neatly folded her dress on the side of her nightstand. She giggled at his adorableness, she wasn’t as gentle as he was with her clothing. After, when they made their deal about what they wanted from each other, she clawed out his clothes and scattered them somewhere across her room, having no regard for them.  
Once she made quick work at getting rid of her bra, Michael’s eyes widened in amazement as if had just received the perfect gift he always wanted. His fingers twitched, longing to touch what was right in front of him but she knew deep down he was holding himself back. 
“I-um- I don’t know what to do” he admits sheepishly. 
She knows this, having it heard and confirmed by Felix and Oliver when they were at the pub with a group of their friends. 
She gives him a reassuring smile before straddling his lap, “I’ll teach you” 
Michael’s face reddened even more if it was possible. His gaze lingered on her lips, then a back up to her eyes giving her a silent look for permission to kiss her lips to which she nodded fervently. 
He wastes no time to crash his lips to hers, leaning his head forward to deepen the kiss. She moans, unsure if Michael knew how to kiss but even then she was willing to teach him if it need be. She moves her knees to get closer to Michael, her bare breasts scraping tightly against his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck desperately needing him to be closer than they already were. 
She whines softly into the kiss as she swipes her tongue over Michael’s bottom lip. Michael moans in response, parting his lips open to let her gain access and she seizes the opportunity to dance her tongue against his own. Michael furrows his brows in concentration, taking mental notes on how exactly she liked to be kissed by the way he strokes his tongue synchronously with hers and the soft little moans that follow out of her lips. 
She pulls away, a hint of chocolate and mint lingering on her lips, as she yearns for more of him between her legs. She almost wants to continue kissing him as she watches Michael’s blue eyes slowly flutter open and his lower lip curling into a pout, mewling at the loss of contact. 
“We can kiss more after, if you want. Right now, I need you to return the favor” She pants, out of breath. Michael mends his pout into an eager smile that makes her chuckle. For such an arrogant know-it-all he sure had a way of being cute. 
She lifts herself up by the help of Michael’s shoulders, crawling over the middle of her bed to rest her back against the duvet. “Ready?” She asks, wiggling her brows enthusiastically, already feeling giddy deep in her stomach. 
Michael nods as he slowly adjusted to sit between her legs, his curious eyes never leaving her damp covered center, his pink tongue sweeping over his lips quickly practically already tasting her. 
“Take of my panties, Gavey” 
She hears Michael audibly whimper as his quivering fingers hook to the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off and causing her to release a shudder over the coolness of his fingertips. 
Michael brushed his fingers against the garment of her underwear, studying it before he brought it to his nose, deeply inhaling the juices that were caused by being in the mere presence of him, from having him inside her mouth, around her hands, his kiss…
There was something so hot and erotic about it, seeing the guy who always picks on her for not being as smart as he was, sniffing her juices like he was a starved man. She moaned at his actions even more so when he quickly bent over the bed and stuffed her underwear into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, probably saving it for later. 
She bites back a protest. Those were her favorite pair but she supposes she can spare them for now. 
Michael resumed his previous position in between her thighs. This time his face laid just centimeters away from her glistening core. She can feel his hot ragged breath fanning over the little patch of curls above her cunt, and very faintly she can hear Michael murmur “christ” under his breath. 
She props herself on her elbows, “Give me your hand” Michael releases another shaky breath before he allows her to direct his hand to cup her mound. 
“Do you feel how wet I am for you, Michael?” 
Michael groans, desperate for some friction he grinds his cock on the bed. He can feel it. He can feel his hand soaked with her arousal. Michael wants to pull back and lick everybit clean off his hand. 
“That’s- that’s my clit” She informs Michael with a strain voice as she runs his index finger through her folds. Michael stares at her engorged bud, having remembered studying it from his anatomy class and how it brought him great curiosity. Now, he was face to face with it and nothing could prepare how much excitement it brought him. 
“The clit is very important. It’s where most of our pleasure comes from. Just pay adequate attention to it and gently circle it-” 
She isn’t sure of the noises that leave her mouth, only feeling Michael beginning to circle her bud in a manner where not even most guys she’s been with have done so. It’s unhurried, unsure and gentle but it’s enough for her to feel waves of pleasure up her spine and her toes curling against the duvet. 
“Oh! Michael” She moans, arching her back and unintentionally caging Michael’s head between her thighs. 
Michael pulls his finger quickly like lightning away from her bud, his face showing a bit of concern. “What? What’s wrong? Was this not to your liking? I can try-” 
“No, no. You’re doing great, really. I-I just, well, I like it and I meant it in a good way” She reassures him with a smile, a slight warmth shoots to her cheeks. 
God, was she blushing at Michael fucking Gavey? Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan or the agreement! 
“Oh, I see” Michael smirks before lowering his head, “Can I use my tongue?” She almost wants to desperately scream ‘YES’ and grind herself against his face but she instead nods and that was enough of a response for Michael as he flattens the tip of his tongue where her clit was.  
Her back arches again, instinctively, feeling Michael’s tongue circle her bud and sweep through her folds all while he keeps his lustful gaze on her, watching the way her face contorts into different forms of pleasure and the audible moans and gasps he hears when he flicks his tongue in a rhythm he notes she likes. 
Michael soon also finds himself moaning at the way she tastes. It was a flavor so sweet. Sweeter than the chocolate of his crunchy bars he so religiously ate. How could he ever tire of her taste? 
Her chest begins to heave, her stomach feeling fuzzy and tight. She was nearing her first orgasm in weeks. 
But then suddenly something unexpected happens. Michael hooks her thighs under his arms, bringing her cunt closer to his face. His red and swollen lips closed in around her clit, tenderly sucking. His actions along with the vibrations of his moans, sends hot shocks of pleasure that she feels the band in her stomach about to snap. 
“Michaelllll. I’m about to-to cum” She cries, feeling orgasm seconds away from releasing. 
“Really?” Michael mumbles with an exciting look in his eyes. She hums, her hands no longer fisting the duvet but instead gripping Michael’s hair. 
Michael continues to lap at her core at the same rhythm he notices she likes, working his tongue quicker until he feels the meaty flesh of her thighs close in on his head and tremble. 
“Michael! Yes! Yes!!!” She chants so loudly that both her and Michael know everyone in the dorm floor would listen. She couldn’t bring herself to care about everyone listening. The genius math nerd in all of Oxford just gave her the best head in the world. 
Michael drinks in her release and this time he is able to pinpoint what flavor she reminds him of. 
Honey. 
She mewls softly. Her body feels weak and tired like she had just ran the longest marathon in her life. “So good, Michael. You did such a good job” She praises, giving the cunt-drunk man between her thighs a lazy smile as she brushes the damp hair away from his face. 
A blush creeps into Michael’s cheeks, a sense of pride fills his senses. He knows he wants more now that she let him taste her. Michael supposes she could give him another taste to satisfy his hunger. She was right there for the taking. Why not? 
“What are you doing?” She curiously asks, peering over as Michael dips his head again making her eyes widen in amazement.
“Michael, wait. We agreed just… Oh fuck!” Her back arches, hands gripping her breasts and a series of gasps leave her lips as Michael redoubles his efforts and works his tongue at an incredible speed that makes tears leave the corners of her eyes over the sensitivity. 
Michael was getting skilled at this. Too skilled with tongue. 
The thin metal of Michael’s glasses dug at her thighs, his face tightly pressed at her core as he growled devotedly. Had she just accidentally created a feral animal? Fuck. 
This time she feels herself ascending closer to her peak more than usual. Her legs involuntarily begin to tremble and her mind feels fuzzy as she has no more strength to fight the waves of pleasure Michael was awarding. 
“Michael” She cries, unsure why. 
Michael, however, lost in his pleasure instinctively comes up with an idea. He unhooks one of his hands around her thigh and brings one of his fingers toward her entrance, plunging inside her walls in and out and curses at the way she clenches around his finger. 
“No, no, no. Stay” Michael mumbles as her hips buckle away from his ministrations. 
This was all getting too much for her. But she does what she’s told and stays and her body violently trembles one last time until she feels the pressure deep in her belly explode and her vision going absolutely blank. 
Has she died and gone to heaven? Cause fuck!
She doesn’t seem to remember how to breathe or pick up the surprise yelps from Michael. She was absolutely drained and spent. 
“Are-are you okay down there?” She asks, panting, gathering whatever strength she had left to peer down between her thighs. Michael’s round blue eyes look up at her in shock. His face, coated with much of her juices. Even his glasses had not been spared. A palm sized wet patch soaked her bedding. 
Did Michael fucking Gavey make me squirt? 
“I’m sorry that's the first time that ever happened to me. Wait here, let me get a towel to clean you up” She stammers as she begins to crawl out of her bed but Michael’s hand wraps around her ankle, preventing her. 
“No need. I quite liked it” He blinks as cleans his face with his fingers, licking away her arousal like the embarrassing thing she did not happen. 
He plops himself next to her on the bed, landing with a heavy thud. “So” Michael trails with a smirk, his head resting on his elbow. “Did I earn my reward?” 
She scoffs playfully. How could she forget their deal? 
She was walking to her class earlier on the day when she spotted Michael pouding and cursing at a vending machine for eating the last cash he had on him. She evilly laughed at him before she nonchalantly walked over to the vending machine and purchased the last two crunchy bars while waving it on his face. Truthfully, she did not find chocolate as pleasing as he did. Michael had scoffed before he followed her like a lost puppy, telling her he’d pay her back the next day. A wicked plan forged inside her head in a way he could pay her back. 
“Here” She slams the two golden bars against his chest after she retrieved them from her bag. Michael smiles and mutters a ‘thanks’ as he unwraps his treat and brings her body to rest against his chest. 
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i-came-i-saw-i-loved · 9 months
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Take me back to Eden
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Pairing: Doom Guy X Reader
Reader Type: Female Reader
Song: Take me back to eden- Sleep Token
Warnings: Smut. Lemon. Some Praise kink stuff. That good shit.
An: Doom Guy make brain go Brrrr. Look. I normally go gender neutral but sometimes the heart wants what it wants lol.
Word Count:1805
Tags:@miyokoslayer
"I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole."
-Pablo Neruda (VIA a-quiet-green-agreement.)
Energy crackled over his body. He is bathed in blue light as he stepped into the portal. Viscera still clung to him. Death trailed behind him as he returned home. Returned to you.
Sounds muffled and blurred together for a breath. Inhale. Nothing but his own beating heart and warm body. Exhale. The sound of home. The firmness of it beneath his feet. The Slayer is still wound together. Body coiled like a snake waiting to strike. His time on earth had been cut short. Demon blood spilled. Poured into the earth they had ruined. Desecrated.
The Slayer needed you. Craved you. Needed you to shed holy light upon the sins he has witnessed.
The armor was removed swiftly. The heavy bits of metal clanging to the floor. Following him in a loose line as he makes his way to you.
The anger in him begins to melt away to something else the further he goes into the lair. The scent of you becoming stronger. Washing over him as he goes down the stairs. 
Slowly the anger bleeds into want.
Want into need.
Need into desperation.
The slayer is heaving air by the time he finds you. He takes but a moment to watch you. To drink you in in this soft moment. So little of it has he had. So much of it you have given him.
You were humming something nonsensical. Dressed only in one of his shirts. Smooth bare legs catch the light as your sway. You were cleaning off his table. The one he used when he was tinkering with his guns. You bend over the table. One leg held out to balance yourself as you reach to clean the other side. Your hips moving with every swipe of the cloth.
He breathes out your name. Watching with some amusement as you jump and turn. Heat blossoms in his chest as he sees your smile. Blindingly bright as you welcome him. It does something to him. Knowing that you are one of the few, if only, people who will speak his name so sweetly. Always happy to see him. 
The Slayer moves swiftly. Going to capture you in his arms. His lips pressed to the top of your head. He breathes in your scent. You smelled of something sweet. Something edible. Your hands are warm when your palms meet his chest. Feeling his steady heart beneath the large muscle.
"Flynn? All good?" You voice is soft. Sweet. Spoken into his collarbone. Your lips are soft against the scarred flesh. He wants to taste it. That sweetness rolling off your lips. He hums. Rumbling his chest as he pulls away. His hand captures your chin. Tilting your head so he could see those starry eyes. His thumb trailed along your bottom lip and he caught the hitch in your breath. The way your pupils blew wide. Stealing the color of your eyes.
"Flynn?" You ask again. Hand settling on his wrist. He looks at it for a moment. Felt the silkyness of your skin against his scared arm. His hand moved. Cradled your jaw. Flynn leaned forward. His lips brushing yours.
"Please?" He asked. You answered with your own shuddering breath. His lips pressed to you. Tasted you. Devoured you.
Flynn's body shook. Pressing himself closer to you as his free hand trailed over your hip. Your waist. Bunching up the dark colored shirt just below your chest. He could feel you shiver against him. Hand tightening around his wrist as you deepened the kiss.
His lips left your. Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Tilting your head to trail his lips along your jaw. Your neck. Only stopping to such as the skin over your fluttering pulse. There was a growl low in his throat when he hear your whimpers. Your fingers curling through his dark locks.
"Flynn." His name on your lips. "Flynn." Again as he cupped your breast beneath the shirt. That shirt that he suddenly wanted gone.
He did not want to pull away. But he did. Quickly pulling his shirt off of you before descending on you once more. He has your breast in his mouth. His hand coming up to cup and brush his thumb over your other pebbling nipple.
Flynn growls as you moan above him. Breathy whines and please's as you try to bring your thighs together.
"Flynn. Flynn please." Flynn does nothing. Darken eyes glancing up to look at your flushed face before moving his lips to your other breast. A trail of spit following him as he does so.
He stops your bucking hips with his hands. Engulfing the fatty curves with his calloused palms. Blunt nails digging in to the flesh of your still clothed rear.
Flynn pulls away again. Falling to his knees before you. His hands sliding up to settle on your waist. His thumbs slide beneath the band of your underwear. Flynn looks up. Feeling that heat blossom in his chest once again as he looks upon your flushed face. Your heaving chest.
Becoming undone by his mouth alone.
"May I?" His breath fans against your navel. Flynns lips pressed to the twitching skin of your stomach. "Please." He pleads. "Need you."
You rest your hand on his head. Trailing your fingers along his cheek. You see nothing but adoration and pure unfiltered desire. "Please." He pleads again. Low and rumbled. 
You cant your hips forward. A whispered. "Yes. God yes please." Leaves your lips.
You hear the tearing of fabric and briefly mourn the loss of yet another pair of your underwear.
Your rear hits the cold metal table you had been cleaning. Flynn pulls on your your thighs over his shoulder. He kisses along the sensitive skin there. Your hips buck as he trails his thumb over your soaked folds. Their are words. He his saying something. It is lost on your ears as the draws a lazy circle over your clit.
"All this for me?" He breathes out. You nod your head. Keening when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.
You were lucky you had the table to lean back onto. You legs shook as he feasted upon you.His mouth making obscene squelching noises as he drank you in. "Mine." He all but growled into you. Tongue grazing over your entrance . Licking a stripe over you before darting over your clit.
You try to respond. Really you do. All that comes out is a dumb "Uhhuhh." Answered by Flynn's rumbling laugh.
"Pretty Girl." He muttered. You shiver as you feel a thick finger prod at your entrance. Gathering your wetness there before pressing in achingly slow. His finger curls as he pumps it into you."Pretty pussy." You could feel yourself clench down. Eagerly pulling him in when he adds a second finger. He stops for a moment as he softly sucks on your clit. Giving you a breath to adjust before he is moving again.
His fingers hit that spot that has yo seeing stars. With a low rumble against you he begins to pick up speed.
Flynn is worshiping you. Down on his knees as he laid his devotion upon you. His free hand leaving red trails against your skin. Like promised scripture to a goddess.
"My girl." He rumbles. "Mine." His wrist moves. His tongue laid flat on your clit and you come undone. Head thrown back as you give your devotion back. Your hands are pulling and pushing at Flynn's head as your thighs shook around him. Trapping him as he lazily pumped in and out of you. Letting you ride your high for as long as possible.
The high lessened and all you could hear was your heavy breathing. Feel the pounding of your heart and Flynn's grounding grip on your thighs. 
You squirmed when Flynn pulled away. Letting your now jellowed leg to fall to the floor. You felt wet. More so the normal. You soon knew why when Flynn stood up. Hovering over you with a lust drunk look.
The entire lower half of his face was soaked in you juices. Your face grew hot and you swallowed thickly when he placed those same fingers that had been inside you into his mouth.
"Shit. Flynn. I." He said nothing. Grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table without struggle. You could taste yourself when he pulled you in for a kiss.
"Not done yet." He muttered. "Need t'feel you." He pulled your hips flush with his own. His dick squished against your stomach as he held you close. "One more time. For me? Ya?" 
You nodded . "Good Girl." He mutters. Lips pressed to your brow. He pressed his fingers to your lips. Letting your tongue wrap around them. You could taste yourself there. To. Sweet against his skin.
His hand went from your mouth to his cock. Lazy pumping up and down to wet it. The tip dribbling as he ran it along your fold. To your weeping core.
His breath shook when he pressed into you. You let our a breathless moan. Fingers digging into his biceps as he slowly. Slowly pressed forward.
There was a burn that teetered around pain and pleasure. Pain soothed away by his rumbling words of praise and his lips pressed to yours. 
After what felt like forever he was fully into you. You could feel him twitching every time you clenched down. Body trying to grow use to the large intrusion. 
"So good. So sweet for me." Flynn mutters. Brushing away a few sweaty strands of your hair. His hips push and pull shallowly. Testing you before he truly began to move. "Taking me so good." A rough push that had your legs twitching. "Such a good girl for me." Another that had the table rattling. "Fuck." With that you wound up on your back. All your hard work falling to the floor as your knees met your chest.
Noise left you with every snap of his hips. You could hear every growl and rumble. The smaking of skin against skin and the squelch of your own spend as he pushed into you.
Your release was quickly coming. Binding tighter and tighter as time went on. And so was his if the grumbles and low whines were anything to go by.
"Fuck." He uttered into your skin. Hips beginning to falter. Fingers found your clit. Rubbing in tandem to his thrusts.
The two of you found release one after the other. Foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath.
The two of you stayed like this for minutes. Connected in the most intimate of ways as your bodies slowly cooled down.
Flynn pressed a  kiss to you lips. Lifted you into his arms and made way to the baths. There he will lay the rest of his devotion. Caring to you and your body. Yo assuring him that you were fine. That was good. It wasn't to rough.
Nothing but sweet. Divine.
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cecereads209 · 13 days
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⎯⎯͙⊱••✩••̩̩͙⊰•⎯
With the help of her equally intoxicated friends, Kyra arrived at the front door of her Los Angeles condo a giggling mess. She found her keys and used them to unlock the front door. Her place had been just how she left it except for the gleam of light that came from her bedroom down the hall. Anyone else would be frightened but Kyra was well aware of who was currently occupying her space.
For the past two weeks, Kyra hadn’t had a night without his body heat and arms engulfing her body, lulling her to sleep. For the most part he kept his hands to himself but tonight Kyra wanted them on her. With each drink she consumed throughout the night, a fire built within her that only he could extinguish.
Kyra slipped off her heels and jacket, leaving them on the mat near the front door. She left her purse on the stand nearby before heading down the hall. She expected to see him sprawled out on her bed, playing on his Switch or watching whatever anime he was obsessed with at the moment. To her surprise, Kyra’s bed was untouched.
From her peripheral vision, Kyra noticed the emergence of smoke from her dark balcony that overlooked the city. Sure enough, in one of her lounge chairs was Tre, shirtless, only black sweatpants covering his lower body. Kyra slid open the balcony door to step out into the cool night air. She walked around to take a seat in his lap. Drunken eyes met high ones.
“Had fun?” He asked after exhaling the smoke from his recent pull.
Kyra might’ve been out of it but it wasn’t hard for her to sense the energy that he exuded with those two words. He was bothered. Kyra felt herself sobering up.
“What’s the mad face for?” She ran a manicured finger across his bearded jaw.
Tre ashed his blunt in the ashtray that sat on the table near them. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his phone. After several moments, Kyra watched as he turned the phone over so she could see the entire screen. Staring back at her was a video of her at the party she had just come back from. Summer Walker’s “White Tee” could be heard clearly in the background, with a few outbursts from her friends to hype her up, as a drunk Kyra sang the lyrics while dancing seductively on another man.
Kyra’s first thought was “Damn, I look good.” From the silkyness of her red colored hair, the soft glam makeup that enhanced her features, to the emerald green color of her dress paired with her glistening jewelry, no one could deny that she was a stunner tonight. Looking from the phone to Tre’s intimidating stare, alarms rang off in her head. She was surely about to be dealt with. Not in the way she originally expected but in a way that would be way more fulfilling.
⎯⎯͙⊱••✩••̩̩͙⊰•⎯
a/n: part two?👀
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azzura · 6 months
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i'm so sorry your ask got lost!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA but here you are!! (sorry for any errors, i did my best to proofread)
requests are open! read more here and send an ask!
pairing: bubbline length: 1.3k words
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caffeine and butterflies
Sometimes, in the midst of chaos, Bonnie can find comfort in the storm. An infamous type A with a nasty habit for neglecting her personal life, (often in exchange for achievement), Bonnie’s only social interaction these days comes from her job at the university coffee shop. 
Rush hour could not come sooner. While it was nice to do idle busy work— restocking napkins, refilling the various creamers and syrups— Bonnie would much rather prefer making drinks and manning the register: Being so busy, she wouldn’t have time to think. 
Hi, how can I help you?
Room for cream?
Would you like that pastry warmed up?
While Bonnie is already an accomplished individual— a known fact, given the amount of awards and recognition she’s received since her high school years, grad school has served her no greater solace in her imposter syndrome. Nagging feelings of feeling mediocre, or questioning the validity of her intelligence, stir in the foremost point of her mind. A brilliant mind no less; Bonnie is nothing short of a genius. Though she has enough confidence to recognize she is some form of one, everyone is their own worst critic. 
It’s a late Tuesday morning when the chaos begins to die down. Bonnie finally has time to catch her breath, and with it, she’s quick to begin tidying up the cafe. Her sense of accomplishment is short. Though Bonnie did everything with pride, the contentment she received from having another successful rush (with no one else but herself, mind you), does not last long. Soon enough, she begins to think again. What is she going to do about her thesis? What sort of innovative topic could she bring to the table? Being a woman in STEM is difficult enough, but Bonnie wanted more than that. She wanted to be a pioneer in her field. 
Wanted? Or wants? The thought is unclear; waxing and waning like the moon.
Bonnie is pulled out of her thoughts when she hears the doors swing open. A regular that Bonnie often remembers. Long, coarse braids are tucked behind the woman’s ears, sporting numerous silver earrings. Her ears are stretched and her nose is pierced with a tiny stud. Tattoo ink coils around her skin, earning the rather obvious gaze from Bonnie. Bonnie feels her heart thump in her chest, butterflies fluttering. Her grip tightens on the wooden stick of her broom. 
Bonnie recognizes her. The regular doesn’t come in often, only once or twice every week or so, but Bonnie recognizes her face every time. Bonnie has seen plenty of people, faculty and students alike, cycle through this cafe like revolving doors. But this girl? Bonnie can never get her cheeky smile out of her head. The silkyness of her voice is sweet like honey. Bonnie’s gay little heart wants to say more than just drink preference and work, but like a coward, the words are caught in her throat.
“Good morning,” Bonnie calls out, making the executive decision to focus on her job rather than the cute girl in front of her. She sets the broom aside and hurries behind the counter to wash her hands, keeping her back turned to allow her some time to catch her bearings. 
Bonnie can feel the warmth on her cheeks; Her fair skin made it terribly obvious when she was nervous— a flush of pink on her cheeks. But Bonnie hoped the girl wouldn’t think too much of it. 
“‘Mornin,” She replies, taking her sweet time with approaching the counter. Her eyes wander on the menu, despite it not being the most diverse. Even so, the woman hums, swaying side to side on her feet as she considers her little options. 
Bonnie hovers behind the register, anxiously twiddling her thumbs. “What can I get you?” She forces a smile– It’s small, genuine of course, even if it quivers at the ends. The girl hums some more, clicking her tongue, “Do you have any more of the ‘lil Halloween cookies?” “Oh!” Bonnie lights up, a little too suddenly as overlooks the empty spaces inside the display glass. Too busy between orders, Bonnie did not have time to restock the front. But did they have any more? Bonnie would bake hundreds of batches if it meant spending a little more time to get to know this beautiful stranger. She crouches down, checking the cabinet beneath the counter. Unfortunately for the girl, there doesn’t seem to be a smiling pumpkin, ghost, or vampire in sight. “No– I’m sorry, can I get you anything else?” Coy, the girl cocks her head, exposing her neck. “Maybe your name. You guys don’t have name tags.” “Um…” Bonnie’s heart might as well explode right then and there. Instead, she chews the inside of her lip and replies with her name, “It’s Bonnie… Did you… wanna order something to drink? We have a couple bagels left…” She looks over her shoulder to motion at a small stack of poppyseed and cinnamon raisin bagels. “Bonnie,” The girl echoes back. Pointed canines peek out of her smile, “It’s funny– You’re cool like a cucumber when it’s busy. Is it too presumptuous to ask why you’re nervous?” Sirens go off inside Bonnie’s ears. Nasty little devil! Sure, the girl was right, but that didn’t mean Bonnie wanted her to point it out! “I-I!” Bonnie stammers, fumbling over her words. Normally, she’s much more poised. Precise in everything she did and focused. It feels so unlike to unravel so easily– especially for something as juvenile as a little crush. “Relax– I don’t bite,” The smirk on her face suggests otherwise, but Bonnie keeps her thoughts to herself on the matter, “My name’s Marceline. Marcy works too, if you prefer. Just a chai latte, please.” Surprisingly, steam does not appear above Bonnie’s head. She taps away at her screen, inputting Marceline’s order for her charge. Tongue-tied, Bonnie can’t think of much else to say. If she wasn’t blushing before, she definitely is now. Bonnie mutters Marceline’s total and sheepishly takes her card to swipe it. “I was wondering if you had plans this weekend– or maybe after your shift if you’re not busy. The rest of my day is pretty much open. I wanna get to know you.” Marceline takes her card, selecting a little more than generous tip for the cute barista in front of her. “Plans?” Earth to Bonnie. Bonnie’s eyes widen. Suddenly, Bonnie’s memory of her (well designed, handwritten) planner ceases to exist. She shakes her head, shrugging off whatever important event or plan she might have had, “No, I don’t have any plans. Did you have something in mind?” “I guess it would be a little silly to invite you to a coffee shop, wouldn’t it?” Marceline laughs, shrugging her shoulders. “How about lunch? Have you eaten yet.” Bonnie shakes her head. “How do you feel about sandwiches? There’s this place nearby that makes the best sandwiches. I’m friends with the owner’s kid too. Unless…” There’s a hint of mischief in Marceline’s eyes, “You’d prefer something with a little more… ‘pizazz for a first date.”
(continuation here [my reblog])
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bultaonene · 5 months
Text
tk corset prompt
“Taehyung. Come here.”
Taehyung tightens his hold on the towels he’s carrying. Not too much, of course - he doesn’t want to ruin Master Jeon’s bath towels.
“I was told to bring these to the laundry room, Master Jeon.”
He can’t see him with the door left only slightly ajar, but he’s sure tat the master of the house is pushing his tongue against his cheek, just like he always does when people don’t immediately bend to his wishes.
“And I just told you to come here. I think one of those orders is clearly more important, don’t you think?”
Master Jeon says so and then clicks his tongue, obviously tickled off. Taehyung takes some satisfaction in hearing his annoyance so clearly in his tongue.
Unfortunately, that’s the only satisfaction he can get. He wishes he could walk away and ignore him, but he likes his head too much to risk parting with it just to disobey a bratty noble.
He pushes the door and enters, the hinges creaking ominously. The Jeon Manor is an old building, lavish and gloomy, impeccable and seemingly falling to pieces at once. Old nobility, the Jeons. Old and rotten and, in the case of the younger one, atrociously spoiled.
Jeon Jeongguk is facing a window, his figure too dark to distinguish his outline well. Not only because of the light – the noble loves to dress in clothes as inky as his hair, as dark as his eyes.
“Give me a hand, won’t you?”
His voice is honey sweet and melodious, the tone deceptively gentle. As if he’s truly asking for a favor and not issuing an order.
He moves from the window towards his wardrobe, trailing his finger on the wall like he’s tracing a line on it, like he’s scraping away the dark wood to reveal the decaying foundations of the Jeon Manor.
He never looks at Taehyung. No, he’s too good for that, too above him. He only gives him his shoulders, broad and strong, clad in a fabric too precious for Taehyung to even look at it.
It’s when he looks at his outfit that he understands what the noble is asking help with. His clothing is simple - expensive slacks, even more expensive top. But wound around his waist there’s a leather corset that gives him that final touch, makes him look just that tad more unreacheable and lavish.
The leather corset is half open, ribbons cascading from his back like a black waterfall. Taehyung hitches to touch them, to feel their silkyness under his fingertips.
He swallows down when Master Jeon grips the bed’s footboard, bending down marginally. It’s just a bit, but it’s enough to make the line of his shoulders look stronger, the width of his waist smaller. As if by simply leaning forward he put things into another perspective, one that makes Taehyung’s head spin.
“I can call someone else to help, I don’t know-”
“I didn’t ask for someone else, Taehyung” he says and the way he pronounces his name, the way he drags the 'hyung' like he can’t bear his tongue to get separated from the syllable. It makes Taehyung feel hot and cold at the same time. “I asked you to help me. It shouldn’t be so difficult.”
“Of course, Master Jeon.” He replies and bows his head, because that’s what people like Taehyung do. That’s what he has to do.
The steps he takes to get closer to the noble sound too loud, like a march he didn’t ask to be a part of. And the closer he gets the more he’s mesmerized by the details - Jeon’s hand flexing and gripping the board tighter, the ribbons swaying with every movement he makes.
Taehyung knows how to tie a corset. He helped his sister do it when she got married, because that was the only occasion they felt fancy enough to get her one. They’ve barely have seen a corset in their lifetimes, much less wore it, but Taehyung asked the maids and the ladies-in-waiting and so when it was time he tied it perfectly, helped his sister slip a white gown over it and kissed her on the forehead before sending her off.
He knows what to do without having to be told anything, so he brushes his trembling hands towards the ribbons at the top. He’s afraid to touch, to somehow ruin the expensive garment, but Jeon is waiting and no one makes a Jeon wait. He slips his fingers through the ribbons and starts tugging, so gently at first that the corset doesn’t tighten one bit.
“Tighter, Taehyung.” His voice is a bored drawl and Taehyung feels his eyebrow tick, letting his hands be a bit more firm. He tugs on the ribbons more forcefully, but he’s still careful.
“Has washing my laundry made your hands numb? Come on, Taehyung. Be a bit useful.”
Taehyung has to stop for one second before resuming and he thinks he hears an amused huff. Everything in Jeongguk’s pose looks mocking, even if Taehyung can only see his shoulders, his nape.
Satisfied with the ribbons at the top of the corset, he starts tightening the one from the bottom. He has to tighten those before he can pull at the two loops in the middle part, at the ribbons by his waist. Those will be the ones to make the corset stay put, to make it hug Jeon’s waist like a lover would.
Taehyung pulls the ribbon, looks at his hands grabbing the corset. For a second he lets his mind wander, wonders how his hands would look if they were doing the opposite. If instead of closing the corset they were opening it, would they look different? More frantic, less mindful?
But they would still look so big, wouldn’t they? Taehyung has big hands. Wide palms, long fingers. He can easily wrap them around Jeon’s waist, circle it fully. And his hands against the black leather look amazing, delightful.
He bets Jeongguk thinks the same, if the shiver that runs through him is anything to go by.
“Tighter. Taehyung, for fuck’s sake. It would’ve been quicker if I did it alone.”
His voice sounds heavenly but the words are grating, making him grind his teeth together. He yanks some of the ribbons, eager to give him a taste of what tighter means, but if he wanted a negative response he is to be dissapointed.
Taehyung pulls on the ribbons roughly and Jeongguk hums, low and pleased. His body shifts towards Taehyung and the footboard creaks from the forceful grip Jeongguk has on it.
He turns his head slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet. The harsh tugging was meant to put him in place but there is no regret in his gaze and he surely doesn’t look reprimanded. If anything, he looks eager.
He doesn’t say anything, just exhales and turns his head back towards his bed again. And so Taehyung resumes, cursing every ribbon and every eyelet and trying to make his hands work faster.
“Maybe another century or two and I’ll be ready, hm? You just have to pull tighter, it isn’t difficult isn’t it-”
He doesn’t manage to finish the sentence because Taehyung feels his patience leave him and he finally obeys him. He pulls, yanks the ribbons by the middle so the corset fits snugly and tight. But he isn’t satisfied, no, not now. He wants it tighter?
He’ll have it tighter.
Taehyung wraps all the ribbons around one hand and uses the other to push Jeon forward, making his body hit the footboard. He places one hand on the damn corset, on that fuckin tiny waist, and with the other he pulls, yanks the ribbons until the corset is too tight, the ribbons taut from the strain.
“Is this better, Master Jeon?” he asks, hisses the words right by his ear. He keeps pulling and pulling until it feels like the ribbons will rip, until the corset will crush Jeon’s ribs.
“Is it tight enough?”
Jeongguk is struggling against his hold, hands flailing and losing their hold on the footboard. His breathing is quicker, frantic, and Taehyung cracks a smile, feels victory pour over him like blessed rain.
It doesn’t last long. Because Jeongguk is struggling, yes, but his ears are red and when he turns his eyes are burning and his lips are smiling.
“Not quite enough,” he says, gasping a bit more when Taehyung pulls on the ribbons even more. But the motion doesn’t seem to deter him. On the contrary, he whispers a ‘yes’ that is a breath more than a word and he looks at Taehyung, grin getting wider.
Taehyung wonders then who’s really holding the strings - him, with ribbons wound around his fingers, or Jeongguk, with Taehyung wound around his little finger. Taehyung gulps, Jeongguk grins, and he thinks he has his answer.
“I think you can give me more, Taehyung. Don’t you think so?”
or: Taehyung likes the elegant uniform he has as a butler in the Jeon Manor. But he doesn't like the Jeons - hates them, actually. Snotty nobles born with a silver spoon in their mouths, that's what they are.
Unfortunately, he isn't the only one who appreciates that uniform on him. The younger of the Jeons has taken an interest in him, lured in both by his beautiful face and his behavior, just shy of disrespectful. He knew that refusing to lick the Jeons' shoes like a good pet would've brought him trouble, but he didn't think it would be like this.
No, he definitely didn't expect to have Jeon Jeongguk trailing after him, to ask for him constantly and then treat him as his personal slave. He never wanted to catch the eye of a man like him, but it is too late now. Jeongguk has noticed him. Jeongguk wants him.
And what Master Jeon wants, Master Jeon gets.
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erodasfishtacos · 2 years
Note
i’m one of the mlbrry pregnancy blurbs y/n says how harry’s had her shaved, hairy, prickly, and waxed but imagine her getting a wax but not telling him like he pulled her panties off and is like 😦
“What’d you do?!”
“I got a wax.”
“I know tha’ but why? You betrayed me!”
Omg I’m dying.
-
They’re at a hotel, traveling for his game, and his mum kept the kids for the weekend. It was the first time they’ve had alone in a while from all of the kids.
It had been a crazy past month and YN didn’t have as much time for self-care as she usually did but right before the day before trip she had scheduled a Brazilian wax.
Harry, on the other hand, didn’t know she had gotten waxed and had been quite obsessed with the bush lately (it may be his favorite).
He was looking forward to seeing it when they had tumbled into the hotel bed that night after an amazing win for his team.
When Harry starts to shimmy her underwear down off her hips, he’s expecting see a pretty little nest of hair that hides her folds and he has to spread her open like a treasure.
But when they slip down her thighs and Harry is met with smooth skin that had no sign of what he had been craving - he sits back on his heels with a massive pout.
“Why?” Harry whimpers childishly, fingers tracing over the skin to feel the absolute silkyness of it begrudgingly.
YN huffs out a surprise laugh, “Are you really pouting right now? I got a wax, I hadn’t gotten one in at least two months and it was a mess.”
“I loved it, mama. I can’t believe you did that to me,” Harry grumbles dramatically, thick finger still slipping between her lips to tease her clit.
“M’taking away your credit card,” Harry announces as he shimmies down to lay between her open thigh, “Spending our money on getting rid of tha’ bush, it’s a fuckin’ crime.”
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honeyvocalhwang · 2 years
Text
Hand In Hand | Yang Jeongin
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Pairing: bf!Jeongin x gn!reader
Genre: Fluff, Hurt & Comfort 
Synopsis: Being in a relationship with a PDA friendly partner is difficult when you're the exact opposite with skinship. Relationships are also difficult when your partner is a hand model, holding other's pristine hands, while yours are covered in calluses. But, Jeongin is determined to melt away your embarrassment and insecurities. 
Warnings: dry hand insecurity (?)
Word Count: 1.5K 
A/N: I can’t remember when I wrote this. I also don’t remember the plot either lmao. Tbh I don’t think I really liked this anyways, but I need something to post so, Happy Jeongin Day! 
__________
- masterlist - 
__________
Aimlessly scrolling through social media, posts of Jeongin’s latest booking suddenly popped onto your home screen after refreshing your feed for what felt like the hundredth time. Instead of the typical photos of him wearing expensive jewelry or vivid nail polish, Jeongin managed to book a live commercial. As you watched the short clip play, your lips downturned into a ghost of a frown. 
As a supportive partner, undoubtedly you were elated that Jeongin was getting recognized and appreciated for his beautiful hands. After all, his long and nimble fingers would be a waste to bypass, not to mention his smooth pale skin. Even beyond his hands, Jeongin was beautiful in every way. 
But some days, if ever, you found it hard to accept him as your lover. Where was your beauty? You weren’t ethereal like he was. Where is your smooth silkyness? You weren’t as flawless as he was. 
You’ve never told Jeongin of your insecurities, always pushing down these intrusive thoughts until they dissolved with the inducement of the night’s slumber. Yet, why did you find yourself constantly looking at your hands and comparing them to the pair that Jeongin held in the commercial? 
You exited the app, throwing your phone to the side in a sad effort to distract those toxic thoughts again. You couldn’t blame either Jeongin or the other models for their natural born talent and beauty. But, that didn’t stop you from rubbing your hands together. 
Instead of the smoothness you craved for, a dry, crackling sound scratched upon the friction between your palms. You cringed at the ruined ambiance, feeling significantly less confident, if you had any to begin with. You face your open palms towards yourself, bringing them closer to get a good look at them. Instead of the smooth lines you expected, your eyes zeroed in on the various calluses ranging from yellow to white, depending on how long they’ve lived there for. 
Using the tip of your pointer finger, you traced the calluses of one hand, hating the way the bumps felt. The hard, rough patch of skin left you feeling dejected and hopeless of ever changing. Suddenly, you clenched both hands, wanting to quickly fix the mess as soon as possible. 
Making your way to the bathroom, you raided Jeongin’s endless supply of hand creams and moisturizers. Choosing the closest bottle, you lathered a hefty amount -- albeit a bit too much now that you rubbed it in -- and resumed looking at your palms. You weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting or the results you wanted from this quick spree; however, you did recognize that same feeling of insecurity upon realizing that one moisturizer could solve the root of your problems. 
“Y/N, baby?” Jeongin called from the front door, “I’m home!”
You didn’t get a chance to move before Jeongin had already found you. Quickly, he walked over to you, clad in his jacket and all to give you a squeezing hug, “I missed you.”
You accepted his embrace, burying your face in his scent. If anything could cheer you up, it was Jeongin’s comfort that brought you ultimate happiness. So much to the point, you’d forgotten what you were originally doing prior to his arrival. It was only until Jeongin released you when the both of you took in your surroundings. Jeongin lifted a brow, “Were you using my hand creams?”
You stuttered, feeling shy, “Um, maybe?”
“Maybe?” He gave you an unimpressed look. 
“I just wanted to try them,” You admitted. 
Jeongin nodded in understanding, glancing at the open bottle, “Next time, use the red one. It’s my favorite out of all of them.”
You picked up the red bottle, making a mental note to try this product later. Maybe this was the miracle worker you were hoping for. You didn’t have a chance to read the labels as Jeongin set the bottle back onto the countertop. He beckoned you with a gentle nudge of your elbow, “Let’s get coffee? I’m dying for an Americano.” 
“Only if you’re paying,” You escaped his arms to find your jacket, slipping your phone inside the pocket. 
Jeongin laughed, following behind you being the one to lock the door, “Of course, I am. How could I let my baby pay, hm?”
You giggled with him, feeling much better than before. Upon exiting the apartment building, you felt the cold air blast you. You shuffled closer towards Jeongin, silently asking to share his warmth. 
He looked at you, “Cold?”
You nodded, ready to accept his side hugs like you’ve always done before. However, instead of a side hug, Jeongin took one hand out of his pocket, holding it out towards you. Without thought, your face dropped immediately which frightened Jeongin, “What? Do you not like holding my hand?” 
You shook your head with lighting speed, feeling guilty indirectly making him the villain, “No, no, I just- I’m just-”
The words you wanted to say got caught in your throat. You weren’t entirely sure you were ready to reveal your insecurities to him yet, leaving you to sigh in defeat, “Here, gimme your hand, please.”
Reluctantly, Jeongin gave you his hand, feeling that something just wasn’t right about the way you were behaving. Nonetheless, he shook it off as you both continued towards the cute cafe settled on the corner of the intersection. 
Entering the cafe was a blessing of its own, providing the warmth you both craved. Even in the warm environment, Jeongin refused to let go of your hand even when you tried too. All your attempts were defeated with a quick squeeze of cease. 
Annoyed, Jeongin turned towards you, “Are you trying to run away from me?”
“No,” You looked away, not wanting him to see through your lies, “I’m just getting hot, that’s all.”
“I don’t care,” Jeongin pouted, facing forward back in line to order, “Your place is next to me.”
You hummed, getting lost in the menu. You’d been to the humble cafe countless times before with Jeongin and each time Jeongin would get his usual Americano as you changed up your order every time. Being the bean that he was, Jeongin ordered for you, knowing exactly which drink had caught your attention. He guided you towards an open booth by the window where you both sat waiting for your drinks to be made. 
It wasn’t long until both orders were called by the barista. Inevitably, Jeongin released your hand to carry both drinks. Without thought, you folded your hands neatly on the table and took your drink for a small sip. Following your actions, Jeongin sipped his drink as well before reaching over the table with both hands to capture yours. Without thought, you flinched away, nearly knocking over your freshly made beverage.
Jeongin looked at you in bewilderment, perhaps more startled than you, “What’s wrong? Why won’t you let me hold your hands?”
The hurt and offended expression sent a jab straight towards your heart, aching upon realizing that you’re hurting the love of your life, “I’m so sorry, Jeongin. I just, I just don’t feel good.”
His expression shifted to one of worry, “Are you sick? Where are you hurting?”
“No, no, baby,” You denied softly, “I’m not hurt, physically. What I mean is that I don’t feel good about my hands.”
Jeongin frowned, not quite understanding your concern. You followed the lines of his confusion, answering the question he hadn’t asked, “I feel so insecure about my hands. They’re ugly, rough, and callused whereas yours are so, so perfect. And, when you work with other hand models with perfect hands, it makes me wonder whether you feel disgusted holding my hands.”
He shook his head at a loss for words. Eventually, he managed to slip out, “How could I ever think that of you? You’re the most beautiful person ever. How could you even think that of yourself?”
You moved to show him your dry hands, “This is why! Look at them, Jeongin! I just wish they were smooth and pretty, like everyone else.”
“But, I don’t like everyone else,” Jeongin argued, nearly having tears in his eyes, “I like you for you. I wouldn't change anything about you, ever.”
You let him take your hand in his, interlocking your fingers together. He rubbed over your knuckles, “You have nothing to worry about, because I don’t care how soft or rough your hands feel. I love you for who you are, no matter what.”
You breathed deeply, “You really don’t care? Promise?”
With a soft smile, Jeongin nodded, “Promise?”
He then kissed the knuckles of each hand, rubbing them soothingly. You looked at him with pure admiration, feeling bad that you thought that he was shallow enough to leave you because of your appearance. But everything he told you was what you needed to hear to get rid of those thoughts that clouded your confidence. 
You smiled at him, lovingly, “But, can you show me how to take care of my hands still? I want them to be healthy at least.”
Jeongin squeezed both hands simultaneously, “Anything for you, baby. We go hand in hand.” 
___________
- masterlist - 
__________
Banner Cred: @kissmenotyou​
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Taglist: @sunnytaes @kissmenotyou
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sepherinaspoppies · 4 months
Text
sneak peak on the small michael gavey drabble im working on...
might release it in a few hours
She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly. 
“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm. 
Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes.
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em0avacado · 3 years
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The Club Mom
(Nestor Oceteva x reader)
A/N : there’s no warnings or anything, I just thought it was cute and I wanna start getting into my writing again and started here. There’s no warnings or anything. It’s just cute. Uh also if y’all wanna request shit, anything really, please do so!!
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The afternoon sun was at its peak, its rays bouncing off your skin, your glow ethereal, the fine hairs that littered the silkyness that was you stood out like little stems of nature’s sprouting beauty, defining the little perfections that were you. Your smile so illuminating as your pearly whites all but glistened in the sun, influencing everyone and everything that surrounded you. You were infectious. Wind blew through the flawless mess that sat a top your head, the breeze grazing your scalp, reminding you of the relentless capabilities the oddly softness it produced on a day like today. Much like you, the endless capabilities that you had, yet you still chose to live with the peace that radiated within you, despite the past that sat heavy on your shoulders on most days, days like today where nature reminded you that it was okay just to be, to bask in the glory of the earths creations, reminded you why you stuck around. You see ethereal, especially when you were in your element, even with you being guarded and rough around the edges, the softness of your existence reminded those who adored you, just why they did.
“Mi alma,” a soft voice brought you out of your trance, leaned back in the vehicle operated by the man you adored with the top down, blessing you with the environment you currently thrived in, pulling your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose, you glanced over at the man who would remember that look for years to come, he’ll remember the way your eyes glowed and he’ll remember every day that, that’s what he strived for, that’s what he wanted for you even when your worries shut you down slowly.
You looked over at him, your eyes clouded with the dreams you were living in, you couldn’t help yourself, as he began to open his mouth to speak again you leaned in for it, connecting your lips to his, your hand cradling the side of his face as your lips met. Kissing the man who’s face blessed your dreams felt like waves crashing together, the beauty in their forces radiating off you both. Pulling back after a moment, you looked at him with your hooded eyes focused down on his, your thumb caressing his cheek, he was bathing in the amount of affection you bestowed on him. Entranced by you as a whole. “Yes, my sweet?” You asked, your voice velvety smooth.
“You have an audience.” He hummed, still under the spell of your touch, love drunk off you.
You glanced over your exposed shoulder, and your melodic laughter rang through the air, you pulled yourself away from him entirely, leaving him wanting more of you, to himself. You jumped out of the car, and went for the trunk. Your sundress cascading over your curves perfectly, pulling your sun hat over your head again as you greater each and every one of your mayans with a hug before opening actually the trunk. Pulling out a basket of goodies, towels, even an umbrella, and sunscreen, doing your best to balance everything before the rest stepped in, taking things out of your grasp to bring to their saved spot on the beach that Chucky sat and saved.
“Thank you.” You heard Bishop say from behind you, arching a brow, you looked up at him quizzically which signalled him to continue on. “With everything that’s been going on, none of them have been able to catch a break, they don’t let themselves unless you’re around. They feel safe to let their guard down around you, you welcome them for who they are and the guys need that, they need you.” He said, watching as Angel and Ezekiel started throwing handfuls of sand at Creeper, who was busy trying to bury Gilly in the sand.
“I’m just happy they didn’t shun me when I started seeing Nestor.” You said, looking your at Bishop who laughed softly at the memory of you confessing your feelings to Angel about him. He hated the thought of it, he threw a fit, caused a scene, he wanted better for you, and everyone agreed, up until they saw how happy that man really made you. They eventually accepted that, and learned to live with it. Even if it was rather difficult to.
“They want their club house mom happy, I guess.” He teased “let’s join them.” He said, grabbing the basked full of goodies as he headed for the beach where the rest of them sat, set up, and fooled around. You stood there for a moment, thinking about how lucky you were and felt since these guys welcomed you into their clubhouse and then family when you met them the first time. You had no clue where you’d be without them, and you didn’t want to think about it too much either.
Lost in your own thoughts, you jumped at the feeling of Nestors arms wrapping around you “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?” He asked as you watched your family dig into the basket of treats, his hands hovering over your ever so slightly bulging stomach.
“Just trying to see who figures it out first.” You hummed as you watched, most of them inhaled the cupcakes in one bite, icing smearing across their smiles, but as Creeper bit his in half, the blue sprinkles poured out, he was met with confusion and when Angel grabbed another cupcake he told him to split it in half to see if it was the same with his, the same blue sprinkles poured out so they ended up checking every single one. All confused, they stared over at you, with Nestors hand on your stomach still, Ezekiel was quick to figure it out.
“Y/N’s pregnant!” He shouted seconds before they all shouted in excitement and ran for her, hugging her all together, fighting about who gets closest to her.
“Not that im not excited for you.” Started Angel. “But this means i get less attention.” The man said, nearly pouting as nearly everyone else slapped a hand against the back of his head.
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lokihiddleston · 2 years
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I kind of hate how fans throw hate at one another for e ship..? I mean what's the problem if someone likes silkye it's a fantasy tv show not a real world problem... this is one of the reasons I got off Twitter, you can't like or say anything there without offending someone who can't get their head outside and breath some fresh air instead of being mad over ships.
I'm not interested in shipping characters anymore but I still find the fights over this subject kinda stupid.
I'm not fighting, I share here what I like, after if people come send me messages about it, I answer, that's all. While still remaining as positive and kind for me :)
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kd-ohd-fanfic · 3 years
Text
A Very Merry Birthday, Part 6ix continues...
(go back to the beginning)
Preston hesitates, and closes his eyes as Kate strokes her hands down his chest, she spreads out her fingers and rubs harder as she moves down over his quivering stomach. 
"Y..yes," he whispers.
"Yes, what?" Kate answers back, as she toys with the waistband of his underwear.
Preston's eyes open, his chest heaving as he looks down at her. "Don't make me say it."
"Then say it with your hands. Touch me Preston. Show me how much you want me."
"K, ...I -.."
Smoothing her hands down over his hips on either side of his bulge, she can see and hear him gasp. She tucks her hands between his thighs, her thumbs tracing the warm opening of the legs of his shorts. 
"Fuuck," he groans, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain as the throbbing in his groin increases.
"Touch me." She insists. "It's ok."
Unable to stand it any longer, Drake starts pacing. His arousal is just as prominent and he's now gripping Kate's panties in a clenched fist.
"Just do it, man." He barks, "Lay your damn meaty hands on her and get this over with. Or so help me, I'll knock you down and do it myself."
Preston puts his hands on Kate's hips, letting them skate along the smooth material of her dress until he's cupping her ass. "There, is that better?"
Kate smiles, reaching up behind his neck. "Much better. The zipper to my dress is just a little higher though."
"I'll get there in a moment," he chuckles, spreading out his hands to give her ass a squeeze. 
The sudden pressure of his hands brings a rush of heat to her core, and the thought of Preston ripping her dress off instead sent a tingle across her skin, and as the goosebumps rose her nipples hardened too.
Pressed up against him, Kate could feel the heat of his body radiating through the thin material of her dress.  Their faces were only a few inches apart and she wondered if his mustache would tickle. 
"May I kiss you, K?"
Kate gasps as he leans in closer, his hands sliding up to her back as his strong arms lift her slightly off the floor.
"Yes."
The bristle of his mustache against her upper lip and nose is harsh, but his lips are soft. Kate squeezes her eyes tightly shut and squeaks as she pulls back. 
"That tickles."
"Sorry," he whispers, easing her back down to the floor and letting her go. 
Kate wipes at her mouth, giving him a smirk, cheeks flushing. "That's ok."
"Turn around for me, and let's get that dress off," Preston says, feeling a newfound sense of confidence. He'd crossed the hurdle of grabbing the ass of his boss's wife and kissing her without getting killed and felt relieved.
Kate turns around and places her hand on the bedpost. When Preston puts his hand on her shoulder she sweeps her hair off to the side. "Here, let me get that out of your way."
"Finally," Drake huffs, walking over. "I was getting tired of watching you two get acquainted."
As Preston pinches the tiny zipper tab between his thumb and finger he leans in to whisper, "Is he always in such a hurry to get you naked?"
Kate giggles and winks at a frowning Drake as he sits down on the edge of the bed, "He usually gets himself naked first."
"Ha, ha. Now if you two are done talking about me, get on with it."
"You mean, off with it right?" Preston jokes, pulling down the zipper on her dress. 
"Less talking, more stripping." Drake insists, rolling his eyes.
Kate brushes aside the straps and the material whispers down off of her form and collects in a ruby colored ring at her feet. Drake smiles at the dramatic reveal, Preston tries to swallow around the dry lump in his throat and Kate steps over the dress with a sigh of relief. "Finally, no more feeling confined by that silly thing."
Kate plants her hands on Drake's shoulders and shoves him backward onto the bed, where he lands with a grunt of surprise. Before he can recover she climbs on top and straddles his hips. 
Preston bends over to scoop up Kate's dress, "Do you want me to leave?"
"Of course not," Kate answers, leaning forward to give Drake a quick kiss. He places his hand on her lower back as she lays herself flush to his body. "I just need to do some marital maintenance before we continue."
Drake slides his hand down over the curve of her ass to give her cheek a squeeze, "Do I really need to put your panties back on? I like you like this much better."
Kate kisses him again, appreciating the grin he gives her back. "For our next game having my panties on is important."
Drake drops the crumpled panties on the bed so he can run his hands up and down her back. "But why?"
Kate sighs with contentment at the pleasant warmth of his hands for a brief moment, but then sits up and climbs off him. "I have my reasons. Now move over and let me tell you about our next game."
Drake rolls off the bed and catches the panties that Kate throws back at him. "Okay, I'm listening."
"Have either of you played Twister before?"
Drake frowns, and Preston laughs, "I have, but it's been a while."
Drake scratches his head, "Isn't that the game where you have to reach around your opponents to place your hands and feet on colored circles on a mat?"
Kate snaps her fingers and points at him with a wink, "You got it, babe."
"But how do we play without a mat?" Preston asks.
Kate checks her position and then lays down in the middle of the bed on her back, stretching out her arms and legs with a moan of pleasure she says, "No problem, because I'm going to be the mat."
Drake glances at Preston with regret and then back at Kate. He'd never seen anything so sexy in his life. With her hair fanned out beside her on the pillows and the come hither look of desire in her eyes, he was tempted to kick Preston out in just his underwear and then fuck her senseless. But he knew he couldn't piss her off.  He looks down at the bunched up panties in his hand and then decides to give her naked Twister game a try.
"C'mere you."
 
Leaning over and grabbing her by the ankles he tugs her toward him and then pokes her feet back into her panties and then slides them back up her legs to her knees. 
He kisses his way up her thigh as he pushes the scrap of lace and silk back up to where he'd tugged them from so long ago. Placing one last gentle kiss on her lower belly he climbs back off the bed. "Tell me again, why I had to put those back on you." He sighs.
Kate scoots backward on the bed to where she was. Patting either side of her she says, "Now you two come lie on the bed with me. Drake, honey, you on my right, Preston on my left."
The men glance at each other and then do as they're told. "Now each of you turn on your side to face me."
The bed springs creak as both men obey, and Kate can't help but giggle at the way she gets jostled on the bed between them until they both settle comfortably with one arm tucked behind their heads. 
Kate turns her head from side to side, and can't believe her good fortune at being sandwiched between so much sexiness, "Now doesn't this make me the luckiest woman in the world?"
"I suppose it does, now explain how this is supposed to work. Because I'm really tempted right now to reach across and punch him in his stupid smug face and just take you for myself." Drake says. 
Kate reaches up to stroke his cheek, "I know I promised you the opportunity to kick Preston's ass. But now I don't want to see either of you hurt."
Preston sits up, "What do you mean? I didn't agree to come over here just to have your husband beat me up."
"Yes, I know. But I have to admit it's been fun to watch you two take jabs at eachother as you compete for my attention. Please lie down again, Preston."
He looks between Drake and Kate shaking his head in disbelief, "You two really are something strange, you know that?"
Kate reaches out to pat his hand, "I know we are. Now are you going to help Drake pleasure me? Play my Left Hand Man?"
Preston looks her over from head to toe, knowing he'd be crazy to back out now. With a sigh he settles down next to Kate again. "Your Left Hand Man, eh? That's not exactly my dominant hand but I think I'm proficient enough."
"Good, now this is a cooperative game, not a competition. You're both working toward the same goal."
Drake looks across at Preston, and then back down at Kate, "So you want us to work together to…"
Kate reaches her hands up above her head, arching her back and moaning out her answer, "...give me the best orgasm I've ever had."
"And are we only allowed to use our hands?" Preston asks, eyeing her breasts as they rise and fall with her breathing.
Kate bites her lip, looking over at him, "You'll use whatever part of you that I ask for."
Drake's eyes narrow in a frown, "Hey, now. Don't forget our deal, Kate."
"Don't forget I'm still in charge, now go get your belt, Drake. I want you to bind my hands."
Drake gets up from the bed and goes over to pull his belt out of the waist of his pants, "Are you sure?"
Kate nods, "Yes, now hurry up before I change my mind."
Making a loop with his belt, Drake kneels down on the mattress at the head of the bed and looks down into the face of his wife. She nods again, holding her wrists together up above her head. "Not too tight." She whispers. "I promise," he replies, as he fits the loop of his belt over her hands and then tugs to secure her wrists together. "Is that ok?"
Kate wiggles her wrists, satisfied she couldn't undo them on her own. Thankfully the leather was soft and didn't bite into her skin. She nods, "I'll let you know if it becomes too much."
Drake settles down next to her again, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss, "Okay, game on. Tell us where we're going first, Kate."
Kate closes her eyes, focusing on the warm bodies pressed up against her, and not the belt around her wrists. She licks her lips, and sucks in a shakey breath and then lets it out. 
"Right hand, hip."
Drake reaches out to gently massage the curve of her hip, enjoying the supple silkyness of her skin. Her smile and soft sigh of pleasure means he doesn't have to ask if he's doing it right. 
"Just keep moving. Until I tell you to put it somewhere else." She says.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Left hand, breast." She says to Preston. 
Preston tries to ignore the glare he gets from Drake as he cups her left breast carefully. He strokes her nipple with the side of his thumb, and is rewarded with a gasp from Kate. "Mmm, your hand is so nice and warm."
"You're welcome, K."
Drake strokes his hand closer to the top edge of her panties, hoping to entice Kate into sending him in that direction. He wasn't going to let Preston get all the best places. 
"Right hand, thigh." She whispers, with a soft moan in her voice.
Drake slides his hand down into the warm valley of her thighs, encouraged by her moving them apart to give him better access. With his fingers he strokes in tiny circles, teasing at the edge of her panties again. He'd had plenty of practice in this area and knew how stimulating his touch could be.
Preston's hand was still massaging her breast, and when Kate suddenly arched her back off the bed and moaned loudly, Drake wasn't sure whose attention she liked more. But what they were doing seemed to be working. 
"Left hand, panties." She gasped out, writhing on the bed.
Drake's hand stopped moving, "Seriously?" he protested. 
"Inside or outside?" Preston asks, fixing his eyes on Drake.
"Inside," Kate answers.
"Now, hang on." Drake says, laying his hand flat against Kate's belly blocking Preston's hand access to get inside anything.
"Drake," Kate warns. "I didn't tell you to put your hand there. Don't make me call a foul, and force you to take your hand off me altogether."
"You didn't say there would be penalties. But I guess you are in charge." He sighs and takes his hand off of her belly. "Ok, fine. Where should I put my hand for its timeout?"
"Inside your own underwear."
Drake scoffs, "That's hardly a penalty. I've been wanting to do that anyway."
"But I can't let Preston do all the work," Kate grins. "So while his hand is busy in my panties, I want your mouth on me somewhere else."
Drake considers his options, "Where do you want me?"
"I want your mouth on my breast."
Drake liked that idea. Propping himself up on his elbow, he shoves his right hand into his underwear and then bends his head over her breast. He licks his way across her skin, his hot breath coming quickly as he began to stroke himself. "Come on, Preston. Do as the lady asked." 
Preston watches Kate's face as he snakes his fingers under the waistband of her panties. Drake had his lips puckered around her nipple, and appeared to be sucking vigorously. Kate was straining against the belt around her wrists, gasping his name. 
Exploring with his fingers, Preston gently massaged around the wetness he found, learning more about the intimacies of Kate than any security guard should. He felt awkward touching her this way, and wished she'd chosen for him to touch her somewhere else. With the sounds she was making, it was clear she had lost the ability to form coherent words, so he kept exploring. Preston could feel a change happening in the flesh that enveloped his fingers, suspecting that Drake's efforts and not his were causing them to happen.
Drake groaned loudly, his body tensing as he fought against his impending orgasm. His forehead was nestled in the damp valley between Kate's breasts, and he was gasping for air. "Come on Kate, cum for us, baby."
Turning his head he squinted at Preston, wondering how he could appear to be so calm. He growled his contempt as he watched his hand moving under Kate's black silk and lace, "How does she feel, huh? Nice, hot and moist I suppose. Do you even know what you're doing in there?"
Kate gasps and shudders, heaving her chest off the bed, forcing Drake to sit up on his knees. "Apparently you do, but I'll be the judge."
Drake grabs Preston's wrist, pulling his hand away from Kate, and giving him a shove backward. He crawls across the bed to position himself between Kate's thighs, roughly pulling down her panties and ripping them in the process. 
"Drake, stop," Kate begs.
He shoves his own underwear down, just enough to free himself. Scooping his arms under her legs he tugs her toward him, grunting with satisfaction as he achieves penetration. "Ffffuck, yes."
Kate cries out at the intrusion, but soon feels herself soften around the familiar shape of him as his thrusts become more desperate. Looking at Preston's stunned face, as he lay there watching, she felt horrible. With her hands bound she couldn't push back against Drake to make him stop, even as her body betrayed her by clenching around him in waves of an orgasm she no longer wanted.
Drake was surprised to hear her whispering Preston's name instead of his as he felt his body stiffen in climax. 
"Preston, make him stop. Get him off me."
Preston and Drake lock eyes a split second before they collide. Drake has no time to react as the bodyguard springs into action, his hands pushing against Drake's chest to force him backward and then slamming his shoulder into him and forcing him down onto the bed. Kate curls up into the fetal position and rolls to the side, protecting her head as Preston leaps over her to pin Drake down on the bed. 
Drake sputters with rage and embarrassment, realizing he's still ejecting cum onto himself. The larger man was pinning him to the bed with an angry snarl on his mustached face. "What the fuck, Preston?!!"
"She told you to stop!"
"I didn't realize I needed your permission. You know, to fuck my own wife! Now get the hell off me!"
"My permission? No." Preston jerks his head in Kate's direction, "But you definitely needed her's."
Drake feels his anger melt away as he turns his head to look toward Kate. A deep sense of remorse sets in as he realizes that she was still curled up and facing away from him. "Shit. I..I'm so sorry, Kate. Please forgive me. I..I got carried away." 
Preston eases the pressure he has on Drake's arms and sits back. He was still sitting on his legs though, limiting his movement. When Drake squirms to get free, Preston shakes his head. Pushing himself up in a sitting position, Drake tugs at his underwear to cover himself up, and then shoves at Preston's chest. "Seriously, get the hell off me! I need to attend to Kate."
Preston doesn't move. "Not until you calm down."
"I'm trying to.. be..calm," he growls back, "But there's a godamned elephant crushing my legs. Now, get..the...FUCK..off me."
"Preston, let him go." Kate says, weakly.
At the sound of her voice, Preston obeys, climbing off Drake and then getting up from the bed. Drake scrambles across to fold himself around Kate, his hands shaking as he loosens the belt and then tosses it aside. Hugging her tightly to his chest, he whispers in her ear, "I love you, Kate. I'm so sorry." 
When Kate relaxes he loosens his hold, and she turns over to face him. He gently kisses her wrists and brushes the hair back from her face. "Are we ok?" He asks, searching her eyes for some reassurance that he hadn't totally just fucked up their relationship.
Kate tucks her face into his chest and wraps her arm around him, "We're ok," she sighs. "I shouldn't have pushed things so far out of your comfort zone."
"And I shouldn't have been so resistant to letting you have control," he replies, stroking his fingers through her hair. He kisses the top of her head, and rubs her back. "Let's get ourselves cleaned up, we still need to deal with Preston."
"There's no need," Preston speaks up. "I can show myself out."
Drake and Kate roll apart and realize that Preston is already dressed. 
"Preston, we need to talk.." Kate begins. 
He holds his hand up to interrupt, "No, we don't. I'll just go. You don't need me here anymore." 
"Goodnight, Preston." Drake says.
Preston nods, turning to go, "Goodnight."
Kate speaks up, "Did you enjoy yourself, even a little? I know this evening didn't really have much sense to it."
Preston looks at Kate, feeling himself blush. "I..I did, actually."
Drake stares him down, waiting for Preston to realize that he's been dismissed. "Good..night, Preston."
Preston gets the hint, "Uh, yes. I'll just go."
Drake breathes a sigh of relief once they're alone. "So is this going to be some sort of Birthday tradition?"
Kate sits up, ridding herself of the scraps of her panties, chuckling sarcastically, "You mean a drunken night of shenanigans that we all regret the next day? I think that's something we've already established as a birthday theme here in Cordonia."
Drake stretches out on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head, "Well that's something our 27th birthdays do have in common," he mumbles. "But I was thinking about the threesome thing."
Kate gets off the bed, placing her hands on her hips and looking at her husband in disbelief, "You'd actually consider doing this again?"
Drake shrugs, "Maybe for my 30th Birthday? We could invite Hana over...and you know.." his voice trails off. 
Kate grabs a pillow from the bed and throws it at him. 
7 notes · View notes
juyeonbot · 3 years
Note
"But, I wanna taste your cum baby.." I pouted, before returning to suck your cock again. Bobbing my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks at times. Feeling the pool of wetness in my thighs, I decided to be a little selfish.
Your eyes confused as your watch me lean back, spreading my legs out. Your adams apple bobbing up and down, tounge licking your lips. As your watch my wet pussy spread apart. Your head imagining how it would feel to be inside of me, how I would taste, how your fingers would get swallowed by silkyness. You asked me what was I doing. Your eyes following my fingers, as I lube them up. Grabbing the vibrating dildo beside me.
"AH! F-fuck! Oh god, its so good!" You pulled on your hand cuffs. As you the vibrating dildo go inside me, my fingers rubbing my clit at the same time. This made you pissed, as this pussy only belonged to you. Not even toys were allowed to touch it. You tried breaking off the handcuffs, but failed. "Juyeon, shh baby. Don't worry you'll get your turn." I giggled teasingly, as I continue to ride my dildo. Sucking on my fingers as well. You were pissed, irritated. You growled and demanded for me to uncuff you, but was only met with a smirk. You watch me in agony, as I ride my dildo. "Oh fuck!" - 🐳
“If you don’t uncuff me right now you’re going to be in a whole lot of trouble. No. Stop doing that. No! I told you to stop. You’re not going to cum, I haven’t told you to yet. Uncuff me right now before you regret it. You’re making me really mad right now you little brat. I thought you were going to be a good girl for me and take care of me. Not be a little brat and tease and torture me. It seems like you’re the one that needs to be teased and tortured, not me.”
juyeon/byeol/bbang
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zzapzzaptasers-a · 4 years
Note
*whispers* I like my ODDS
LICK-NECK
And Darcy is usually so careful with Molly; a gentleness that is reserved (to even USE the word reserved was strange for Darcy) only for Molly.
But Darcy’s fingers dart through the thickness of Molly’s hair, the straight silkyness she envies when her mass of curls could become nothing but frizz on a humid day, and pulls to the side.
Molly is pliable, a little defiant, but still--
Her neck is long and freckled and Darcy swallows hard before leaning in, her tongue painting a wet, long line from Molly’s beautifully lean collarbone to her perfectly formed jaw.
And if Darcy sticks around and sucks a little, leaving a small purple spot -- well, Molly can take the issue up with her later.
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warlock-enthusiast · 4 years
Text
26. You keep me warm
Fandom: Critical Role (campaign one spoilers)
Characters: Allura &&& Kima
Rating: T (blood cw) 
fictober entries // fictober information
----------------------
A nightmare.
All of this had been a nightmare. Kima cursed and spit, as Vex'ahlia killed that bastard Xanthas. It should have been her. Her weapon splitting that body in two, her steel gorging on blood. Rage almost blinded her. Her anger not following Bahamut’s guidance and teachings. At this moment, she didn’t care. He’d cursed Allura, stealing her mind and personality. 
After catching a breath, Pike used the last bits of magic to heal Allura. Kima felt it in her bones and mind and it cleared some of the fog that had been close to swallowing her mind. 
Sarenrae’s light extinguished Xanthas’ foul magic.
Finally her eyes shone bright again. Very blue and beautiful. Endless depth of love and wisdom and Kima’s heart started to beat again. 
“Allura!” Kima ran, not caring about her wounds or the dead on the ground. All that mattered was her and she threw her weapon to the ground and wrapped herself around Allura, soaking in her warmth and smell. 
She cried openly now. Everyone saw and kept their distance. Kima reached for Allura’s hands and felt her fingers wrap around hers and in that moment, all those years made sense. There was no hiding any more, not from her feelings and not from Allura’s eyes. 
Kima got on her tiptoes and kissed her with a passion denying her exhaustion.
Allura didn’t react, but followed Kima’s motions after a moment. She got on her knees to better hold her in her arms, ruining her dress even further. 
“You keep me warm, my Kima.” Tears ran down her cheek and their second kiss tasted like salt and hope. “You keep me warm.” More kisses and Kima grabbed a handful of blond hair, just to feel the soft silkyness. 
Her nightmare turned into a new beginning.
She placed kisses on Allura’s lips and cheeks, on her neck, and hands. “I’ll never let go of you again. No one will ever harm you again.”
Both of them knew that such an oath seemed quite impossible. Not with everything that kept happening around them and the wars that were still to come. Vox Machina had a knack for being pulled into politics and things greater and more powerful than them. And Allura and Kima would follow them to the very end. “You promise me?” Allura smiled, even though she looked tired and her skin held a greyish hue. She needed rest and more healing. Probably a week of sleep and someone to take care of her. “Bahamut will hear my vows and he will guide me.” Kima placed her lips on the back of Allura’s hand. 
Allura answered kissing Kima’s forehead. “But important things first, I’m rather thirsty.” “We’ll find you some water.” Kima led Allura from the battlefield, bringing her deeper into the Fort. 
She never let go of her hand. 
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oatsn-honey · 6 years
Text
Wrinkles
Summary:  Arguments between couples can make wrinkles in relationships. And wrinkles in clothes.
Or: A one-shot where Izuku and Ochako get into a silly argument, and everything ends up happy and fluffy.
Notes:  Heyo everyone! I hope you're doing well! I wrote this one-shot to keep you all content while I write the next update for The Sorrow Behind the Smile (my other BnHA story, if you do not know.) This was originally going to be a silly and not seriously written one-shot, but things didn't work out that way. Anyhow! I hope you enjoy this story!
Ochako trudged through the apartment building, her hero costume growing more uncomfortable by the second. She waved to the receptionist as she passed the front desk and swiftly rushed into the first floor’s public restroom. She entered one of the stalls and proceeded to rapidly remove her skin-tight suit. After it was off, she let out a satisfied sigh, allowing her body to breathe for a moment.
Ochako then slipped on a pair of bleached skinny jeans and a navy and white striped, long-sleeved tee-shirt. Sliding on a pair of canvas flats, with navy embellishments, she stepped out of the stall to inspect herself in the wide mirror. She decided that she looked fairly decent, and with two thumbs up (to herself, or course), she made her way out of the bathroom.
She took the steps to the 4th floor, as she and Izuku always did. “Just for a little bit of extra exercise,” Ochako had said to him. Of course he responded positively to her idea, flashing her one of his bright smiles that still managed to make her stomach flutter. The brunette took a moment to stop and admire the dazzling ring on her left ring finger. He always knows just what I like, she thought to herself with a smile that made her eyes crinkle in the corners.
As she continued her ascent to her floor, she chuckled softly to herself, thinking of how she still did the “Just engaged!” finger waggle, that females often do to show off their engagement rings, despite being already married. To be honest, she just did it to jokingly taunt her friends who had yet to be proposed to by their significant other, namely Shouto and Momo. Who knew that Deku would have more guts than Todoroki? And look how happy we are now. Her pleasing thoughts came to a close when she reached Floor Four’s platform.
She opened the metal swinging door and stepped into the hallway. Making a brisk walk to her shared apartment, she remembered that Izuku had gotten the second half of the day off, so he would already be home. He’s had 5 days straight of constant work. Her heart sunk at the fact that he had gotten so many frequent emergency calls, even late into the night, that he had gotten three hours of less of sleep every day. Each time, she would offer to go with him, to make the process quicker, but he denied every single time. Eventually, he started to just go without letting her know, that way he wouldn’t have to wake her up. She would go to sleep in his arms, and then wake up with him nowhere in sight. The first time he did it, she panicked beyond words. Luckily, he came shuffling in through the front door before she had the chance to call the police. After that, he started to leave notes on her nightstand, telling her that he went out. That barely did anything to subdue her worry, though.
I really hope he’s resting right now… Lord knows he needs it. This was her hope as she entered through the front door, refraining from calling out, in fear of waking or disturbing her husband. As Ochako sauntered over to their medium-sized kitchen, she pondered on what to make for dinner. I could make katsudon. After all, it is Izuku’s comfort food… While she went about gathering the ingredients, she remembered that she would have to do the dishes. She didn’t have the time to do them earlier in the morning, nor the energy to do them the previous night.
Ochako walked to the kitchen closet, grabbing the smoothed wood recipe box that her mother had gifted to her, picking out the recipe for tonight’s dish. “Inko Midoriya’s Famous Katsudon” read the recipe card. Inko had been elated, if not a bit embarrassed when Ochako had asked for the recipe. That was back when Deku and I were just dating… She had told her timid mother-in-law that she wanted to know how to perfectly make Izuku’s favorite food. Inko quickly agreed that it was a great, and very heartwarming, idea, and the two ran through the recipe, surprising their favorite boy with the dinner. The sweet woman got flustered, however, when she saw Ochako write “famous” on the recipe card.
The gravity altering quirk user smiled to herself and went over to the kitchen sink, planning to get the needed amount of water for the supper. She was shocked to see that the sink was empty and shining, like had just been cleaned. I didn’t do that… Her eyebrows furrowed. Izuku. A sudden anger filled her body, and she couldn’t hold back as she yelled, her voice carrying throughout the apartment, “Izuku! Come here right now!” I told him not to do the dishes. I can’t believe him! He’s so stupid sometimes!
She heard his footsteps as he came rushing in, panic evident on his face. He was dressed in a oversized yellow sweater and jeans, the sleeves of his shirt going far past his hands. Her arms were crossed, and her expression stern. Ochako grew even more heated when she saw the warm basket of laundry balancing on his right hip. “What’s wrong! Did something happen?!” His voice was filled to the brim with worry, but he stopped his approach at the edge of the kitchen, seeing the anger on his usually bubbly wife’s face. He gulped, fear rising from the pit of his stomach.
The sight of the deep, dark circles under his typically vibrant green eyes fueled the process of Ochako becoming further upset. “Izuku! I swear! I told you not to do the dishes, and that I would do them when I got home! But you just had to go and do them anyway! And, look! Now you’re doing the laundry too! Have you even rested at all?! You’re going to work yourself into an early grave!”
He was slightly apprehensive of how she would respond, but Izuku still retaliated. “Well I don’t want you to have to come home just to do the dishes, Ochako! You need rest too!”
Oh he did not just… “I’ve had plenty of rest these past days! My shifts have all been laid back and ended early! You have gotten less than 3 hours of sleep for 5 days in a row, Deku,” She seemed to calm down for a moment. “That’s not healthy. I’m just concerned for your health. And not to mention that you’ve had several run-ins with some dangerous villains.” Her moment of a calm came to and abrupt end. “And-! Don’t you even pretend that the cut on your leg from that villain the other day isn’t bothering you anymore! I can plainly see that it is!”
At those words, Izuku hid his injured leg behind the other, in a little self-conscious motion. “I’m fine, I promise, Ochako. I don’t even feel tir-“
He was interrupted by Ochako, whom was not willing to hear Izuku lie to himself about his health. “Ah! Izuku, don’t do this, please. Just… sweetheart, you’ll make yourself sick.” She approached him, gently placing her hands on the white, plastic laundry basket that he was still holding. “Please, will you at least lay down for a little bit? When you do, you’ll realize just how tired you are.” She looked up at him, all sign of anger gone, sadness and worry being the only emotions wavering in her immense brown orbs. “Please, Izuku?”
He gazed down at her with a solemn expression for a moment before hanging his head in defeat. His eyelids fluttered close, his long eyelashes standing out against his bruise-like eye bags. “Alright, for you, Ochako.” He halfway opened his eyes and flashed her a tiny closed smile.
Relief washed over Ochako, and she looked at him with a face filled with massive amounts of gratitude. She gingerly took the basket away from his grasp, placing it on the hardwood floor. She sweetly embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He slithered his hands around to rest on the small of her back. She used her hand to bring his head down to rest on her shoulder. She threaded her hand through his thick, curly hair, relishing in its silkyness. His breath tickled her neck when he let out a long, content sigh.
“Sorry for yelling at you.” She felt him nod into her shoulder. The tiny gesture made her heart soar, for some peculiar reason. Ochako continued, “There’s just no way else to get through that thick skull of yours.” She could feel the small chuckle at her comment reverberate through his warm body and a warm smile dawned her pink lips. After a pleasant moment, they eventually parted, and after a sweet and short kiss, she took his scarred hand in hers, leading him to their shared bedroom.
Upon entering, neither of them bothered to turn on the lights. Both swiftly changed into some comfortable clothing, Izuku keeping his sweater on and just switching his jeans for a pair of gray sweats. Ochako was adorned in a pair of pastel pink lounge shorts and one of Izuku’s old shirts.
While his wife was still getting on some comfortable clothes, Izuku took a moment to sit on the queen sized bed and admire the pictures on the wall. That one was from when were dating… The engagement photos… He looked at the largest collection of photographs. And those are from our wedding. He stared at the largest, where they were standing up on the altar. It was taken during the vow-sealing kiss. His face grew slightly warmer, a tint of pink adorning his cheekbones. She really did look stunning that day. And every day…
“Okay!” Ochako’s sudden declaration broke Izuku from his nostalgic trance. She gave a cute smile, and joined him on the the bed. As they laid down, sharing one pillow and cuddling so that they seemed to be just a heap of limbs, Ochako asked “Are you alright?” She shifted slightly, being cautious of the cut on Izuku’s leg.
“Mmhmm,” He hummed, “Just remembering some things.” He answered as his eyelids drifted closed against his will. Ochako was right… I guess I really am tired… The extreme exhaustion had enveloped the pro-hero, willing him to fall asleep. Before he knew it, his consciousness had already faded into black.
Ochako took the moment to admire him, glad that he was finally getting the rest that he needed. She gazed at his soft expression, and placed her hand on the side of his face. The young woman took note of every single small detail, the way his hair curled out in seemingly every direction, unwilling to be tamed. All of the freckles that adorned his face and body, some large and others small. He’s gotten more over these years, she thought with silent mirth. The way his lips naturally curled. His gently sloping nose. He’s very handsome. For once, she didn’t feel flustered at her thoughts. To her, he was perfect. Both in personality and looks. But his attractive features weren’t the only things she noticed. The sleep-deprivation was more than obvious, and in the silence of the room, she could see just how stressed he was.
She let out a sigh, and brought her hand away from his face to rest on his shoulder. Ochako could feel his gentle breaths flow through him, making his body rise and fall. She tucked herself into his chest, tingles running through her body when he unconsciously brought his arm to rest on her hip. She too, soon fell asleep, glad that she had such an amazing person in her life.
The ingredients for what was to be dinner sat untouched on the kitchen counter. And the now cool clothes that laid in that white basket were left unfolded. Who cares if the clothing was wrinkled or not? If they could live through the tiny wrinkles in their relationship, who’s to say they can’t deal with that?
Notes: The idea for this initially came from a conversation my sister and I had. We were talking about another couple, and she mentioned that they would probably fight and argue all of the time ("Like an old married couple."). It got me thinking; "How would Izuku and Ochako fight? Because surely they would have little quarrels." And so I told my sister that they would have silly arguments like, "I TOLD YOU I WOULD DO THE DISHES!" "WELL I JUST DIDN'T WANT YOU TO HAVE TO WORK AFTER YOU CAME HOME!" And so, my writer's mind turned that small, lighthearted discussion into this little fluffy (I hope) one-shot.
Alright, story aside, thank you for reading! Eat and drink well, and have a wonderful day!!
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carawenfiction · 6 years
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Two part ask, I hope you don't mind. 1 What do the ROs sleep in and 2 what lingerie do they like on their SO? if any.
I don’t mind at all ^-^
Hmm, this isn’t something I’ve put any forethought into, but on the top of my head:
A wears smooth, silky lingerie to bed. Nothing too exposing, though; they’ve got a special set of underwear for that haha
R sleeps in baggy pants and a tank-top (male R also sleep shirtless some nights)
G sleeps in their underwear, plain and simple
M sleeps in their boxers/panties and a shirt with a dorky print on
Q sleeps in the nude; it’s just the natural thing for them.
As for what kind of lingerie they like for their partner, A would like it if the MC wore something elegant and fancy; they’d likely give such lingerie to the MC themselves to wear for such occasions
R and Q wouldn’t care too much about it; R would be busy trying not to faint, and Q would maybe like the frilliness and silkyness of certain lingerie, but wouldn’t pay much attention to it in a sexual way.
M wouldn’t think of the MC wearing anything specific; they’re so awkward about that themselves so if the MC wore something like that they’d likely mostly think about the fact that their own underwear is so unimpressive haha
G would like the kind that has a string you can pull for it to come off, or the type made out of candy… Something innovative, not just normal underwear x)
Thank you so much for the ask~
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