#how to make your rapping flow better

[sugoi-writes]

Alastor x Reader - First Time, First Deal

A/N: Let me preface this with: yes, I am aware that Alastor is ace (and likely aroace). This is simply a work of fiction and nothing more! I tried keeping things pretty tame for the most part, but there's an opportunity for spice later down the road, should anyone enjoy this.

The reader uses she/her pronouns. The reader is a sinner whose body is essentially a ghost that changes/become corporal at times. Reader is EXTREMELY touch starved. (And let's be honest, aren't we all?) This part is fluffy and sickeningly sweet, with room for angst and smut down the road... so please enjoy my newfound brainrot~

Your time spent with the Hazbin Hotel had been progressing more positively than you hoped. Being a demon with a semi corporal body came with ups and downs... namely, that you had a hard time controlling your body's functions.

During bouts of anger or sadness, your body would change. You'd usually becoming hard, jagged, and brutal, or, one that you feared most: you became completely invisible. The only person who seemed to understand appeared to be Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon. Despite being a reserved, somewhat distant person... he seemed to either understand or take pity on your situation.

You felt confident in his companionship, moreso as your sleepless nights crept upon you. You had all but sobbed in his private quarters, lamenting how touch starved you were. How the only time you've felt the touch of another being was during fits of rage or in conflict. When defending the hotel, you typically get pretty banged up and bruised. The sensations you did experience were never good... and you longed for something that felt right. Something that felt REAL and gentle.

Alastor seemed more than sympathetic, and would listen and even humor you. When your world was crumbling in, he always managed to make you smile and laugh... And the bond between the two of you festered, before erupting to an untamable flame.... at least, you knew it did for you.

When you were close to him, you found your body's hues changing... bright, soft pinks would flood your visage, especially in your face. Angel Dust would tease you especially hard, causing flecks of green and red to appear: annoyance, anger.... No matter your emotions and despite your best attempts, they were always on your sleeve.

One night in particular, you were having a very difficult time. You had thought back to your life in the human realm, to living on Earth... You had shared many things with others. Touch, kisses, and... more intimate gestures. You could imagine the sensations, but never experience them on your own. No, you would need someone that you TRULY trusted to help you... someone whose touch would be as rare as your predicament. Someone who wouldn't taint that touch with ulterior motives. Someone who wouldn't take advantage of your vulnerable state the second your walls caved in.

You had thought to ask Angel initially, but didn't want it to appear that you were using a sex worker only for his body... you had considered other sinners you met along the way, many of which who had left the hotel.

But there was one constant that crossed your mind: Alastor.

And with that, against your better judgment, you rapped quietly against his oak door. You were sheepish, hoping that he would be asleep, or too busy to answer. Hues of purple swirled through your body, as you felt your shape ebb and flow... the parts that felt real, the ones you could sense... they were soft, and just as pliable as your mind.

But you had no time to linger as the door to the Radio Demon's chambers creaked open. You fumbled with your appearance as Alastor's eyes and grin fell upon you, a singular brow raised.

"My Dear, it's quite late in the evening... are you troubled? Struggling to sleep again?" Alastor opened the door entirely, allowing you to enter. You nod, before nervously walking past the threshold. No going back now, you thought.

"I-- I know, Alastor. I hate bugging you so late at night, but-- you're the only person who can help me with my-- issue." Hues of hot pink swirled within you as Alastor gingerly closed his door, his head cocking to the side.

" Would you like to have tea with me, then? Perhaps something warm could help ease your--"

"Warmer than that," you practically yelped, your hands flying to mouth to cover it. You sigh, as your colors fluctuated again, your body acting as a kaleidoscope for Alastor to observe.

"I... i only ask of you because, well-- I feel like you would handle this... respectfully. Delicately." Alastor continues to grow more interested, the light emitting from you dancing about his chambers.

"Well, trying not to assume what you may need me for, I am flattered that you considered me for the task. I can assure you, a gentleman will always take the qualms of the fairer means seriously... Discreetly, if need arises."

Alastor's grin grows, a familiar glow reaching his wide eyes," Now then... what dea--.... arrangement... have you come to propose?"

You turn to face Alastor, your face warm as you spew your feelings at him, deep from your core. Your colors flash, swirling and colliding with each other haphazardly as you speak. At first, Alastor is intrigued, then appalled, and the more that you spill... the more his mind shifts. He can clearly see you weren't here for some petty favor, or a sinner's gambit... You were here for something more earnest than that. He should have known better than that, regarding you... You, the sinner who didn't deserve to be trapped here in Hell.

"I want-- I just want my first time in Hell to be with someone I can trust. In fact, it's only possible IF I can trust that person," you quickly added, advancing a few paces towards him.

For the first time since you've entered, you're silent. You don't make a sound as Alastor struggles to form a response. His eyes seem a little hazy, lost... You've stupefied him into speechlessness.

You sigh, your colors becoming more uniform, softer... you begin to shed the night gown that you managed to keep on this entire time (With your embarrassing predicament? It was RATHER impressive).

As it fell to the floor, Alastor's bewildered eyes were able to take in your full form... how the colors hugged and accentuated your form... how your hair bellowed behind you... how soft your face had become. For a moment, he swore he wasn't standing before his friend, but an angel from on High.

"Please... I know--- i know this is a lot to ask of you. But I can't spend an eternity of torment like this-- not when I have the option of seeing if it's possible. I NEED to know if its possible to be with someone like this."

Your attempts in this endeavor have been fruitless in the past, yet somehow: you were hopeful that this would be different. You were hopeful that Alastor would be different.

Alastor's smile softened, as he adjusted himself. She wasn't coming to him as a desperate harlot, nor some heated lover, he thought... she sought him without any sort of carnal threat. This sinner came to him as a friend.

This emotion made his core swell and seize simultaneously, his emotions conflicted. He had little to no desires of the flesh anymore, nor did he ever desire you past a platonic companionship... but here he was: feeling something. Something that he hadnt felt in such a long time.

He cleared his throat, before loosening his tie. You swallowed shallowly as it was taken off and tossed to the floor. Alastor approached your slowly, his mask still plastered to his face, though shakily.

"Let's make a deal, then...," Alastor speaks softly, the normal filter on his voice all but silenced. He reached out a hand, cautiously approaching your cheek.

"I will agree to see this event to a proper conclusion... whatever you'd like me to do, or try... I will earnestly do so until you're satisfied. In exchange..."

You felt your throat swell shut, as if you were being strangled. You could hardly see straight as Alastor came so close to you. You gasped when Alastor's hand finally made contact with the swell of your cheek, a thumb running over it tenderly. You sighed into the feeling, your face flushing a deep pink as you leaned into it. Yes, yes... this was EXACTLY what you needed!

"In exchange," he repeated," You will never let anyone else touch you like this: ever."

Your eyes shoot open, startled by the forwardness of the deal. You could hardly speak as you felt another hand come to rest on your hip, squeezing earnestly.

Alastor's smile seemed to shine more vividly due to the light you emmited, but it was... soft. It appeared genuine. A smile that was new to you. If Alastor had ulterior motives, you could not sense them at all...

You stammered over your words, perplexed," I-- I hadn't know that you-- that you had--"

Alastor chuckles, pulling you closer," Dear, call me a product of my time... but I don't believe in boughts of one-night passions. I don't believe in swingers or flings... if my mother taught me anything, she taught me that courting takes time. That it should be shared between two people, and two people alone."

You felt his hand reach for yours, before bringing it to his lips. Your eyelids fluttered as he began kissing your knuckles, one by one.

"You are the one I've been wanting to court; the only one that I plan to. And... it seems like it has been successful, thus far." A slight stretch of the truth, but one that Alastor knew you wouldn't be able to see through.

You were still reeling at your revelation as you were gently pushed backwards, landing on the edge of Alastor's bed. Your breathing picked up as Alastor knelt before you between your legs, his eyes level with yours.

"So... will you allow me to continue?"

You practically sighed out your answer, your head feeling hazy as your body practically sung for him to start," O-Of course.... please, make me yours, Alastor."

#alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #radio demon hazbin hotel #radio demon fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x GP!Beefy!Superpowered!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4408

Requested by 🍬 anon: I'm back indeed😌and I have a request to make, could you write R adopting a superdog and surprising Nat with it? Like the dog somehow saves R and they have no choice but to keep them and take care of it😌

*slides $20 under the table* could the dog be a corgi who is an absolute menace to all the avengers?

-🍬

AN: Corgis are very special to me, so of course I will write this. 🥺Also, I threw in a smut scene, because this is not a Dirty Vulture fic without it.

No pronouns used.

“I still don’t really know what the point of me being in one of these is,” you say, rapping your knuckles on the metal wall of the van currently transporting you and your team to the apartment complex you’ve been sent to overturn. SHIELD had spent the last three months scoping out HYDRA activities from the entire building and they now had enough intel to send in the strike team: you, Natasha, Steve, and Clint.  

“Because we go in together,” Steve says, the ever optimistic leader of the pack. 

“Right.” You nod, cracking your knuckles through the padding of your gloves, a nervous habit you have before any mission. While this one was relatively simple (and you got to do it with Natasha, which for the longest time had been strictly forbidden by Fury after what happened in Budapest), you were still aware of the risks and dangers that came with the job.

Natasha’s hand rests lightly on your thigh and you look at her. She smiles softly at you, not saying anything, but you know exactly what she’s trying to communicate. 

Both of you will be okay.

You put your hand over hers and squeeze it. The van finally comes to a stop and the four of you pile out, standing on the empty, dark street. It’s well past midnight so there are few cars or people out. This kind of peace is rare in New York, but you’re also in one of the rougher neighborhoods, where people try to honor curfew for their own safety.

“Everyone ready?” Steve asks, strapping his shield to his arm.

“Hold on,” Natasha says, stepping up to you and cupping her hand around the back of your neck to pull you down to her level, kissing you with a passion that is usually reserved for the bedroom. She slips her tongue into your mouth as her hold on your neck tightens so you can’t pull away.

Steve and Clint stand there blinking at the two of you, Steve shocked by the public display of affection (as if he’s never witnessed it before), and Clint annoyed that this is the kind of thing he has to deal with more than he cares to.

Natasha finally pulls away and looks up at you, smiling when she sees a smudge of her lipstick on your lower lip. 

“Be safe, babe. I’ll see you in a bit,” you say, stepping back from Natasha. You give Clint a bracing nod, and Steve a glare that can be interpreted as “You better watch my girl or else.” You close your eyes and picture the apartment on floor 2 that SHIELD showed you a model of ahead of time. By now, you’ve perfected your technique, but it’s still not the most enjoyable experience. There is a pressure around your entire body, almost like you’re surrounded by a tide of water, crushing you from every angle until you can’t take the pressure anymore and you explode.

Literally.

You disappear from your spot on the street in a cloud of white smoke, feeling like your body is being pushed through a tube before you expand to your full size again in the same empty apartment you had pictured. 

No matter how many times you teleported, it never seemed to get easier.

You shake out your limbs, feeling blood flow to your extremities once more, then start lumbering around the apartment to find the front door. It’s not even locked and you step out into the poorly lit hall, your ears straining for any movement behind any of the other apartment doors. SHIELD had warned you that the building was filled with a mix of actual HYDRA agents and legitimate residents, but it went without saying that none of them would take too kindly to an Avenger letting themselves in out of nowhere. 

“We’re entering the ground level now,” Steve’s voice crackles in your earpiece. “Y/N, where are you?”

“Exactly where I’m supposed to be,” you hiss back, stationing yourself outside door 1227. All you knew was that HYDRA had a lab cooking behind the door and that it was probably armed to the teeth. 

“Good. Wait for our signal.”

“Copy, Cap.”

You start counting down the seconds in your head as the rest of your team takes the old-fashioned route up the stairs to join you. Just as you reach 100, the door suddenly swings open and your mouth drops open.

“Wait–” This hadn’t been part of the plan; whoever was inside wasn’t supposed to know that you were here. A man with a shaved head stands in the doorway, holding what you think is a walking cane in his hands.

“What the hell?” he says. 

“Delivery?” you try, despite being empty-handed. You have to dodge backwards when he swings the cane at you with such force, the handle buries itself an inch-deep into the floor. “Relax, dude!” you say while retreating frantically. You notice he isn’t calling for backup (something you might be able to use to your advantage) as he yanks his cane out of the floor and advances on you. You’re pushed back down the hall, where the only escape is the window. Technically, you could teleport instantly to any place you could picture, but you know it would be a cop-out to leave like that while you were on official work.

“Where did you come from?” the man snarls, jabbing his cane at you and you lift your arms to protect your face (Natasha wouldn’t be very happy if that got damaged tonight). The cane stings where it makes contact even through your padded forearms and the pain irritates you more than anything. When the man swings the cane around for another strike aimed at your ribs, you grab onto the shaft and yank it towards yourself. The man stumbles, losing his grip on the cane and you take full control of it.

Without putting too much thought into it, you hold the cane in both heads and bring it down towards your knee, cleanly snapping the plastic in half. You toss the broken halves to the side, raising your arms in preparation of a legitimate fistfight, but the man seems to have other plans.

With a shout of rage, he charges at you like you personally hurt him by breaking his cane. You barely have time to react with the short distance between you before he collides with you like a cannonball. You tip backwards, not strong enough to slow his momentum, your back slamming into the window. The glass gives easily under your combined weight and all the blood rushes to your head as you fall headfirst down two stories.

As everything seems to process in slow motion, you wrap your arms around the man’s torso, twisting your bodies with lightning speed boosted by your superhuman abilities, so that you’re on top of him. Even in the dull moonlight, you see his eyes widen in shock when he realizes you’re going to land on him. 

You brace yourself for impact nonetheless, your jaw rattling and head whiplashing from the sudden stop as the man’s back bounces on the pavement. He goes limp beneath you and you push yourself off of him, standing and checking for any damage to your limbs. Fortunately, he took the brunt of the fall, and your enhanced physique along with your armor kept you in mint condition.

You take in your surroundings, finding yourself in a narrow alley adjacent to the apartment complex. It smells like sewage and garbage, almost strong enough to cause you to clap your hand over your nose to muffle the invasive scents. You glance up to see the glinting shards of remaining glass in the window you both had fallen out of. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but you hope the others won’t mind your detour. 

“Y/N, was that you?” Clint’s voice suddenly rings through your earpiece.

“What?” 

“We heard breaking glass.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it under control,” you lie, scratching your head and looking down at where the HYDRA agent fell. Except he’s not there anymore. “Oh, no–”

A considerable force slams into your side and you find yourself face-down on the pavement in the next second. Your cheek scrapes the asphalt as you roll onto your back, raising your arms defensively as the man points a gun at your head.

“How did you–” You know this is no time for small talk, but you can’t help your curiosity.

“Hail Hydra,” he interrupts, as if this is enough justification for how he managed to survive a two-story fall with you using him as a landing pad. You close your eyes and tense yourself for being torn apart by a piece of lead, but it doesn’t come. Instead of the thunder of a gunshot, there is a ferocious growl that can’t have possibly come from a human, and suddenly the HYDRA agent is screaming and swatting at a black blur attached to his ankle. He drops his gun and you kick it out of his reach, scrambling to get up.

“Down, down!” he yells. You’re not sure what kind of animal has latched onto him, but it has an unusually long body and stubby little legs that end in white paws. The man tries shaking the animal off violently, swinging his own leg towards the brick wall and you leap into action. You grab onto his shoulders and shove him back. He loses his balance and hits his head hard on the wall, slumping instantly and collapsing like a sack of potatoes.

“I hope that takes care of you,” you mutter, a little hesitant that a solid blow to his head would knock him out so easily. 

The animal, which you’ve now deciphered is a corgi, releases the man’s ankle and bounds up to you, opening its mouth in a goofy smile.

“Hi, little guy,” you say, kneeling and offering an open palm. “Thanks for your help.” The corgi’s entire body trembles in excitement as you pat his head. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” The corgi barks, but you can’t speak dog. “Well…I guess you can come with me for now.” You have no idea what you’re going to do with him in the long-term, but you don’t have time to think about that right now. You need to get back with the rest of your team.

The corgi’s stumpy tail wags and he grins adoringly at you. You’ve hardly known him for a minute, and you would already do anything for him. 

“What should I call you?” you ask, and he barks again. “Hmm…” Your eyes wander to the fallen HYDRA agent, for the first time you notice the badge hanging around his neck. It reads “M. Jacob.” You look back at the vibrating corgi. “How about Jacob? Does that sound okay?”

Jacob bounces on his paws and barks again, seemingly in agreement.

“Excellent. Come on, boy.” You click your tongue and he immediately falls in step beside you. The two of you exit the alley and walk around the apartment building, just in time to see the front doors burst open and Steve, Clint, and Natasha stumble out, all of them panting.

“Nice of you to join us,” Steve says. “Who’s your friend?”

“Jacob,” you answer, offering no further explanation.

“Y/N.” Natasha walks up to you, reaching up to brush your face and you cringe away when she rubs a bruise you didn’t know you had on your cheekbone. “What happened?”

“I’m fine.” You look down at Jacob, who stares at Natasha warily. “It’s okay, Jacob. She’s on our side.”

Jacob steps forward and sits down by Natasha’s feet, looking up at her expectantly for some attention. 

“And where exactly did you find him?” Natasha does not bend down to pet him. 

“He saved me back in the alley.”

“Why were you in the alley?”

“I…Uh…” You feel Steve and Clint’s judgmental eyes on you. You hadn’t done your part in the mission; in fact, the only thing you had done was almost gotten yourself killed and had now found possession of a stray dog. “I got a little distracted.”

“Because you saw the dog?” Clint asks, knowing your affinity for animals.

“No, it was a HYDRA agent actually,” you defend, frustrated.

“Sure, sure,” Clint says, but you can tell he’s not convinced.

“I was–” you start.

“Let’s get out of here,” Steve interrupts. “We got what we came here for anyway and we can debrief at the Tower.” The four of you (five including Jacob) start walking down the street towards the van again.

Natasha hangs back to walk alongside you, but she doesn’t reach for your hand the way she normally does. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, pausing outside the van as Steve and Clint climb into the back first. Jacob tries to join them, but the bumper is too high for him to reach, so his short back legs swing comically as he tries to heave his body up. You chuckle and bend down to scoop him up. He looks at you gratefully then scurries over to Clint, begging for attention from the archer.

“We can’t keep the dog, Y/N,” Natasha says, as you wait for her to get into the van first.

“Why not?”

“We have no idea where he came from. He could be one of HYDRA’s pets, or worse, an experiment by them.”

“He’s harmless, Nat,” you assure, and she sighs. Your willingness to trust had always been a point of contention in your relationship: Natasha always approached new situations, people, and things with a supremely guarded nature, while you practically threw all care to the wind if there was food or an animal involved. 

“How can you be so sure?” she asks.

You shrug. “I just know.”

“That’s not good enough, Y/N.”

“Please, Nat?” You give her your best puppy eyes (although Jacob could have easily beat you). “I’ll have Bruce run some tests to make sure Jacob’s not a HYDRA spy in disguise.”

Natasha stares at you, arms crossed over her chest. Her front zipper is drawn down just enough to reveal her cleavage, which is amplified when arms press her breasts up. You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until she clears her throat and you hastily make eye contact with her. She smirks and you’re slightly annoyed at the distraction.

“So, can we keep the dog?” you ask, trying to remember the topic of conversation. 

“Fine. But you owe me later.” 

You already know exactly what that will entail, and you can’t remember the last time you had a night this successful. “Yay, thanks babe!” You peck her cheek quickly before she has a chance to tease you further and climb into the van to give your new friend all your attention. Jacob’s entire butt wiggles as you sit on the bench opposite Steve and Clint. He paws at your calf to beg to be carried into your lap and you cuddle him against your chest, enjoying the warmth of his fur. “You’re a good boy, Jacob. You’re gonna love your new home.”

***********************************************************************

Even though Jacob has four perfectly functional (albeit short) legs, you insist on carrying him all the way inside the Tower. Clint wakes up Bruce with a 2 a.m. phone call to bring him down to the lab, where he runs a few tests that Jacob seems to pass all of. He ties a loose blue rope around Jacob’s neck to act as a collar for now, and Steve dismisses everyone back to their quarters once Bruce declares Jacob safe to stay in the Tower, and you go upstairs with Natasha. 

“I still don’t know if this is a good idea,” she says.

“He’s harmless and super cute, Nat. Aren’t those the only two reasons you’re dating me anyway?” you add in jest.

“There’s a few other reasons.” Her hand comes down and squeezes your butt. She winks at you. “You should probably leave Jacob with Yelena and Kate so we can have some interrupted alone time.”

“I hope they’re awake.”

“Yelena never sleeps until we come back from a mission.”

“Okay.” You practically rush down the hall, Jacob bouncing in your arms and he glares at you with big brown eyes. Yelena’s door is open just as Natasha predicted, and you can hear her and Kate talking inside. “Um, hi, guys,” you say, entering her room unannounced and setting your new corgi on the floor. Jacob toddles forward, observing the two women with some uncertainty. 

Yelena and Kate are sitting with their backs propped up against the footer of Yelena’s bed, surrounded by a sea of colorful comic books they’d been discussing. 

“We’re back, and this is Jacob. We found him at the HYDRA apartment complex on our mission,” you rush to explain, feeling your pants embarrassingly begin to tighten at the thought of your girlfriend sprawled out on your bed and waiting for you. You could never really figure out why she was so horny after missions; you were convinced it was the way you looked in your suit. “Can he stay overnight with you two? Natasha and I…have some things to do.”

Neither Yelena nor Kate have time to ask any questions or roll their eyes in disgust as you hurry back to your bedroom and slam the door shut. 

Jacob stands there, looking almost concerned to be left alone by the only person he trusts so far. 

“Jacob!” Kate calls, pushing aside some of the comic books and holding a hand out for the black corgi to sniff. “Hi, buddy. I’m Kate and this is Yelena.” She makes the introduction as if the dog can comprehend their names. Jacob licks her hand and pads forward to bump her arm. “Yelena also has a dog called Fanny. I think she’ll like you, you’re very cute.” Jacob’s stump of a tail wags happily as Kate scratches behind his pointy ears.

“Speaking of, where is Fanny?” Yelena asks, suddenly reminded of her own dog’s absence. 

“She wandered off earlier, I think. She’ll be back soon.”

“Hopefully she doesn’t get too jealous of him,” Yelena says.

“Because Jacob’s cuter than her?” Kate asks. 

Yelena narrows her eyes at her. “You did not just say that. Do not let Fanny hear you say that or she will have you for breakfast.”

“No, she won’t, because you’ll protect me, right? Right, Yelena?” Kate says, looking at her friend in concern.

Yelena shakes her head. “I will make no promises, Kate Bishop. Tread very carefully.”

***********************************************************************

“Oh, fuck, baby. Right there,” Natasha gasps, her fists clenching in the sheets as your hips slap against her butt with every thrust. You drive forward with barely restrained strength, feeling the whole bed move and the frame bump against the wall. The heat around your cock is tight and silky, Natasha clenching around you rhythmically as you pound into her.

“You’re taking me so well,” you say, squeezing her hips in time with your thrusts. “Such a good girl for me.”

Natasha keens at the praise, dropping her face down into the pillow. You tilt your hips to adjust your angle, the ridges of her pussy dragging against your cockhead in such a way that you almost lose control. And Natasha almost does too, pushing back so you can fill her deeper and moaning in pleasure. 

“I’m almost there,” she warns, but you’re barely able to hear her over your own grunts. Wetness gushes around you suddenly, but you don’t stop your relentless pace until Natasha is whimpering and begging you to pull out. You’re careful to collapse next to her so you don’t crush her, rolling onto your back and your still-hard cock bobs and glistens with Natasha’s cum.

“You didn’t finish?” Natasha asks when she comes down from her high. You shake your head, your thighs clenching when she suddenly wraps her hand around your cock. “Take me again,” she insists, rolling onto her side facing away from you. Your muscular arms slink around her waist, pulling her closer to you and your cock slips easily into her again. This time, you are much more gentle with your thrusts, almost lazy as your exhaustion from the earlier mission finally begins to show itself.

You bury your face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the vanilla scent from her shampoo. Natasha interlaces one of her hands with yours where you hold her just below her bellybutton, sighing in content at being wrapped up in your arms and filled at the same time. She can feel your abs flexing against her back as you try to maintain your pace, your breath hot on her neck as you near your release.

“Nat, can I–” you ask, and Natasha loves how you still ask for her permission before finishing inside her.

“Don’t let any drop go to waste,” she responds as you press your hips against the back of hers, cum spilling out of your cock in short, hard bursts. 

“Thank you, baby,” you murmur, your sweaty forehead nuzzling her neck. Natasha smiles.

***********************************************************************

Jacob wanders around Yelena’s room, sniffing in every nook and cranny and even walking all over Fanny’s bed. The girls watch him in amusement despite their growing exhaust at the early hour. 

“You’ll fit right in here, Jacob,” Kate says to Jacob, petting his back as he waddles by. “I’m not sure Tony will be happy to see another animal, though. He might start charging us fees.” She keeps her own dog, Lucky, at her apartment a few blocks down the street, but she visits the Tower so often that she might as well move over permanently. 

“If he does not let Jacob stay, I will cut his head off,” Yelena growls.

“Or, you can all just move in with me!” Kate says brightly, but Yelena doesn’t respond. Kate looks at Yelena and sees that she’s staring at the doorway, where Fanny has suddenly appeared. Fanny holds intense eye contact with the corgi perched on Yelena’s lap and for a few seconds, neither dog makes a move and everyone holds their breath.

With a vibrating growl that shakes her whole body, Fanny charges and Jacob leaps off Yelena’s lap to meet her, despite being barely a third of her size. Yelena lunges after Jacob, trying to wrap her body protectively around the small corgi, but he slips right through her arms and barks viciously at Fanny.

“Stop them!” she cries as Kate jumps into the fray, slipping her fingers under Jacob’s collar and pulling him back until he almost chokes. Yelena throws herself between the two dogs, hoping to break their eye contact and calm them down. Fanny snarls and snaps at Yelena, behavior Yelena has never before witnessed in her.

While Yelena yells at Fanny to back off, Kate struggles for her life to hold Jacob back. Despite the corgi’s diminutive size, he displays an extraordinary, almost supernatural, level of strength. In fact, it feels like her fingers are being crushed where they are wedged inside his collar, and upon closer inspection, Kate swears the corgi’s neck is thickening to the point where there is barely a millimeter of space left between her fingers and his fur.

“Yelena, are you seeing this?” she screeches, now trying to free her hand, but is only successful when the thin fabric snaps. Kate falls back, and now it is evident that Jacob is growing. Although he maintains the same long-backed, short-legged proportions, he is distinctly larger than Fanny now.

“Oh, God, what is happening?” Yelena says, crawling back from the giant corgi and shielding Fanny. Jacob barks, sounding deeper than before. He practically fills the room, the tops of his pointy ears brushing the ceiling and Kate screams in sheer fear as she presses herself against the wall to avoid being crushed on the floor. 

“Natasha! Y/N!” Yelena screams. “Get over here now!”

“Please!” Kate begs, before getting a mouthful of Jacob’s fur and coughing. Hopefully you and Natasha weren’t too busy to hear them…

***********************************************************************

“Natasha! Y/N!” 

You sit up instantly when you hear Yelena screaming both of your names, finally pulling out of Natasha and she whines at the loss of your cock, but doesn’t protest. She shares the same concerned expression as you as you jump out of bed, barely remembering to throw on a shirt and shorts before running down the hall. Natasha is right on your heels, wrapped in a blanket, and you get to Yelena’s room first.

Natasha’s sister is closest to the doorway, her body draped over Fanny. Kate is pressed up against the wall, her chest heaving like she’s run a marathon with something blue in her hands. Jacob is sitting in the center of the room, his ears pinned back against his head.

“What’s going on?” you gasp.

Yelena turns to you. “Did you…Did you see that?” she asks.

“See what?” Natasha crowds in from behind you.

“Your dog!” Kate says.

“Jacob, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” You pat your thigh and the corgi comes running over, brushing his head against your leg, his tail wagging a little bit now. 

“Why are you asking him if he’s okay? That’s what you should be asking us,” Yelena growls.

“Your dog almost suffocated us all in here!” Kate bursts out. “He grew to the size of the room!”

“Grew? He looks fine.” You pick up the corgi for closer inspection, his paws dangling as you shift him at different angles to check for any injuries. “What are you guys talking about?”

“He grew,” Kate insists. “Look, he even broke out of his collar!” She shows you that the fabric in her hand is actually Jacob’s collar.

You shrug and put Jacob back on the floor. “That flimsy thing Banner put on him? It could have snapped just by grabbing onto it.”

“You cannot keep that dog, Y/N,” Yelena says. “He’s some kind of monster!”

“Don’t say that about Jacob!” you defend. “If you didn’t want to watch him again, you could’ve just said that.” You look down at the corgi, unable to believe your friends would be so rude to him. “Come on, Jacob. Let’s go back to our room.” And you and Natasha stroll back down the hall with your new pet, completely oblivious to the danger he could be.

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

AN: Click here for Part 2!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

[burnthoneydrops]

Could you do a fluff Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader takes care of a drunk Jamie who forgets that they've been dating for months and thinks they're back in their crush phase after they and the boys went out celebrating a win?

Drunk in the Back of the Car (j.t. x fem!reader)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 654

warnings: language, alcohol

a/n: here you go love! i hope you like it and requests continue to be open!! (also first time writing for jamie so pls be kind lol)

The early 2000’s pop music blasting through the speakers was about to make your brain explode. The boys were celebrating a great victory in their match earlier that day and had all decided to crash this club that Colin had found. The flashing lights and sticky floors were slightly off-putting but the boys just wanted to celebrate and Jamie had insisted you came along too. Keeley and Roy were somewhere, probably at a table stuffed in a corner as Roy hated anyone spotting him. Isaac immediately bought a round of drinks upon entry and thus started the flow of alcohol. You were just glad that you and Jamie had agreed that you would drive home so he could properly celebrate. 

Speaking of your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be seen. A group of you had been gathered in front of the bar, chatting and drinking and dancing- though somewhat badly- and then as the night aged on and people found different things that piqued their interests, the group dispersed into smaller groups across the club. You were clumped together with Colin and Sam, chatting about the opposing team from the earlier match, while Colin interspersed some lyrics from the rap songs that were playing overhead. While laughing at Colin doing this weird dance while rapping, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Your boyfriend is smashed,” Roy commented as he held Jamie under his arms. He was clearly having a hard time standing on his own and it seemed like Roy had dragged him from wherever they were previously stationed. 

“I’m fine grandad,” Jamie retorted, though slurred and he clearly had to put a lot of thought into the short sentence. 

“I’ll take him,” you smiled at Roy, silently thanking him for making sure Jamie got back to you. He nodded and passed Jamie over to you before he walked off, probably going back to find Keeley again. You grabbed one of Jamie’s arms and threw it over your shoulders, leaning his weight into you. “Looks like I’d better get this one home. Enjoy the rest of your night lads”. Sam and Colin say their goodbyes before going to find the other boys. 

“Woah, you better be careful there. I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t think she’d like you touching me like this,” Jamie tries to stand up straighter to get away from you, but almost immediately tips back over. 

“I am your girlfriend,” you laugh. 

“No way,” Jamie says quietly, in an ‘I can’t believe it’ type of way. 

“Come on Jams, let’s get you home”. 

Despite the copious amounts of effort it took to get Jamie through your front door- which included him almost throwing up in the back seat of your car- you finally got him in bed in a semi-comfortable position. Once you were sure he wasn’t going to throw up in the bed, at least long enough for you to get ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom to take your makeup off and change out of your clubbing outfit. 

“Y/N?” You heard Jamie call from the bed. 

“Yes love?” you question, sticking your head out of the bathroom doorway. 

“How’d you get into my house?” 

“I have a key Jams,” you laugh. 

“Did I give you that?” He tilts his head. 

“How sloshed did you get Jamie?” You move closer to him, sitting down next to him on the bed. 

“Oh my god I’ve got Y/N in my bed,” he whispers more to himself. 

“I’ve been sharing a bed with you for the past two months, love,” you remind him, moving his hair away from his sticky forehead. 

“Holy shit, no way,” he mutters before passing out again. You laugh at his antics and go back to the bathroom, finishing your nighttime routine before grabbing some water and aspirin for the morning. You were so going to make fun of him tomorrow for this.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso fanfiction #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso #roy kent #keeley jones #sam obisanya #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt fluff

[sargebarnesx]

Jealousy

Pairing: Jim Hopper x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex, sex in his office, Hop’s a bit of a dom

Words: 2.3k ish?

Summary: Phil Callahan has a massive crush on you and Jim Hopper doesn’t want to admit that he’s jealous.

Author’s Note: please forgive me for two things: 1. If Hopper seems a bit OOC, it’s been a while since I’ve watched ST but I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while. 2. If I missed any warning/info that should have been provided. I haven’t posted fanfic on tumblr in about a decade so I’m out of practice. Hope y’all enjoy though!

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous.

He would describe himself as laid back when it came to relationships. Besides, when was he ever tied down to anyone long enough to get jealous? He would go with the flow, which usually meant he would have one night stand after one night stand and never call any of them ever again.

Until he met you.

You were a decade younger, but that didn’t bother him. You had a past, hell, so did he. He didn’t care. You started working at the station, that was great, he could see you every day and he definitely didn’t mind that. There was only one thing that seemed to be bothering him lately…

Phil Callahan had a massive crush on you.

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous, especially not of Phil Callahan.

You wore tight skirts and cute heels to work, a stark contrast from Flo’s ankle-length dresses and sensible shoes. You were young and pretty, what did he expect? You spent a lot of your time flittering around the station, helping where you could, filing, cleaning, making, and answering calls. In between all of that, you found time to innocently flirt with Phil. You knew what you were doing; you knew it was going to make Jim’s blood boil every time he caught you sitting on the corner of Phil’s desk in your tight black skirt that hugged the curve of your ass perfectly. You were putting on a show, albeit one that had maybe gone on for too long. But you wanted to see how long it would take Hopper to crack.

Your white button-up top exposed your collarbone, giving everyone at the station a tiny peek of the smooth skin hiding underneath it. The black pumps that adorned your feet made a clicking sound as you walked back and forth and back and forth. Every time you passed by Jim’s open office door, he looked up from his paperwork in the hope of catching a glimpse. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

Neither could Phil.

Why did that make him seethe with jealousy?

Deep down, he knew why. He knew why seeing another man’s eyes rake over your body drove him absolutely insane.

He knew it was because that body had been writhing underneath him a mere seven hours ago. He knew it was because when you woke up next to him this morning, all you wanted was his dick in your mouth. He knew that you were probably still thinking about the way he railed you before your morning shower with your hair wrapped around his fist. How could you not be? He certainly was.

You were walking around the station with a familiar swing in your hips, a skip in your step, humming one of your favorite songs. Flo had commented that you were in a surprisingly good mood for a Monday morning. No one knew the things the two of you did off the clock and Jim wasn’t sure if they should. He didn’t want people to think you only had a job because you were screwing the chief. You deserved a better reputation than the one he had earned.

Jim heard the clicking of your heels getting closer as you approached his office. “Hey chief,” you said, rapping your knuckles against the door frame. You held a brown folder in your hand. “Whatcha got?” Hopper asked, holding his hand out to take the folder. Before you could respond, you slowly pushed the door closed. “Somethin’ serious?” Jim raised an eyebrow at your actions but didn’t question you further. You set the folder down on his desk gently.

“I can feel your eyes on me every time I walk by,” you say, sitting in the chair opposite his desk and crossing your legs at the knee. Hopper leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out. You can feel the tip of his shoe rub against your ankle. “Yeah?” He remarks, “Can you feel Callahan’s too?” You nod, rolling your eyes, “Of course I can, but you looking up from your paperwork each time I walk by is what’s got me distracted.”

Hopper smirked, dragging his eyes over your exposed thighs. “Is that so?” He asked, “Not Callahan panting like a dog at your feet?”

You run a hand slowly through your hair, flipping it to one side. “Phil has been like that since high school. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to realize that if he hasn’t gotten any from me by now, he never will,” you explain. Hopper nods, his face emotionless as he moves his legs away from you. You follow his actions and lean in toward his desk.

“Besides,” you say, “I’ve had a lot on my mind today and I can’t say Phil Callahan has crossed it even once. You, on the other hand…”

“Me?” Jim asks, leaning back in his chair with his hands crossed behind his head, “What about me?”

He knows what he’s doing. That was your invitation and he knows you’ll take it. He watches as your mouth quirks up the tiniest bit in the corner, always one for a challenge. Hopper watches intently as you stand and make your way around the desk. He happily obliges when you motion for him to push his chair back a bit.

His hands immediately fly to the backs of your thighs when you straddle him and he has to hold back a groan as your hot pussy brushes against him. He takes in a sharp breath as you lean close to his ear.

“The chief wants to know what I’m thinkin’?” Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear. He nods, rubbing his hands from the backs of your knees to the curve of your ass. “I’m thinkin’ about your cock, chief, and how it feels when you’re filling up my pussy,” you place a kiss on the side of his neck, “I’m thinkin’ about laying back on this desk so you can fuck me right now.”

Jim presses his face in the crook of your neck to hide his groan. He hopes his office is far enough away from everyone so they can’t hear him. “You feel too good, baby,” he thrusts his hips up, trying to get closer but there are too many layers, “You know I’ll be too loud.”

You kiss him, deep and hard, taking his hands and pushing them onto your ass. “Maybe Phil will hear you and realize he doesn’t stand a chance,” you whisper with a smirk against his mouth. Hopper squeezes your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You push yourself back up into a standing position, then take a seat on his desk. “So, are you gonna help me?” You ask, placing your right foot on the arm of his chair, feeling your skirt ride up. His eyes rake over you, going from your hip to your ankle, and you can tell his fingers are itching to touch you. “Or am I gonna have to do it myself?” You lift your left leg and place it on the opposite arm, exposing yourself to him. You trail your fingers down between your legs, feeling the wet heat that has soaked your panties.

“Touch me,” you whine, pushing your panties to the side to thrust a finger deep into your throbbing pussy, “please.” He watches under hooded eyes, his hands resting on your ankles. Your finger circles your clit and you hold back a moan, remembering that there’s only a door separating the two of you from everyone else. His hands creep higher and he traces lightly across your skin. “Unbutton your shirt,” he murmurs. You pull your fingers away from your pussy, wet and glistening, and slowly slip your buttons open.

One by one, you expose the skin of your chest to him. He can see the black lace of your bra and the swell of your breasts, heaving up and down as you pull your shirt off. “Fuck,” he mutters, “You’re so damn beautiful.” He gets closer to you with these words, filling the space between your thighs. He places a kiss at the base of your throat and you gasp as his beard tickles your skin. “Jim…” you groan, “I need you right now.”

He stands, crowding you, towering over you, with one hand on his belt buckle. You can see how hard he is, how his big dick strains against his uniform pants. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you on my desk?” He asks under his breath, palming himself over his pants. You nod, lying back over folders and papers. He hooks a finger in each cup of your bra and pulls, exposing your tight, hard nipples. “You are so turned on, baby,” he whispers against your nipple before wrapping his lips around you, “Bet that sweet pussy is soaked.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. You want nothing more than to have him ram his thick cock inside of you, but his tongue on your tits is driving you absolutely insane. You wrap your legs around his waist. “Jim, please,” you’re getting desperate at this point. You want him inside you now.

His belt falls open first. Then he pops open the button and lowers the zipper. You’re one layer away from finally feeling him. You tighten your legs and pull him into you, whining when you feel his length pressed against you. “Easy, baby,” he says softly, “Be patient.”

He pulls away from you and pushes his boxers down, finally. His cock bobs between the two of you and he hisses when the cool air hits him. He pumps himself a few times while you watch, wetness pooling between your legs. You want your panties off, you want him to fill you up, you want to feel him. “You ready for this cock, baby?” He says. You nod, “I’ve been ready. You know this pussy is yours.” He smirks, reaches under your skirt, and pulls your panties down your legs in one movement. You squirm as he takes his place back between your thighs. The head of his cock brushes against you and you moan, bucking your hips towards him.

Jim is grinning; he loves seeing how much you want him, how much you need him.

“You want it all?”

You nod again.

He pushes into you, so familiar, so filling. He groans into your mouth, bites down on your lip, and pumps his hips back and forth. You’re gripping his biceps, your noses are touching, and his eyes are trained on yours.

“Atta girl,” he groans, “Atta fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this. Taking my cock on my desk at the station. You think Callahan could take you like this? You think Callahan could make your pussy this wet?”

You shake your head.

“You want Callahan to fuck you on his desk out there? You wanna tease him until he can’t take it anymore?”

His thrusts are getting sloppy, his desk is creaking beneath you. He’s already gotten you there twice and is working towards a third. “Oh…baby…girl…fuck,” he moans, his words each enunciated by a snap of his hips. Your hands are gripping the hair at the base of his neck and you know without a doubt that your bottom lip will have an intense indent from your teeth.

“You want my cum? You want it deep inside this pussy?” He growls. You nod, unable to form words, unable to think with the cloud of bliss that is currently fogging up your brain. “Use your words, baby. I wanna hear you…” he says, gripping your wrists and slamming them down on his desk above your head. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaking, “Yes, please, cum inside me.”

Suddenly, you feel like a rubber band snaps somewhere deep inside of you. Your back arches off of the desk and your eyes squeeze shut; you wish he didn’t have your hands pinned above your head because you’d love to dig your nails into his strong shoulders. Then he’s moaning - loud and deep, while he spills himself inside of you. Your body goes limp as he wraps his arms are you. He’s so warm and you cry out at the absence of his heat when he pulls out of you. “Jim…” you whine.

“Shh,” he says, digging through his drawers to find a random towel that he knows is buried in there somewhere. It’s scratchy and has a couple of holes, but he uses it to clean you up. His rough grips have turned to soft touches. He gingerly puts your heels back on your feet while you fix your bra and pull your shirt back on. When you stand, he pulls the bottom of your skirt down and gives your ass a gentle squeeze.

It’s a silent remark, something that tells you he enjoyed himself, that he loves you, and that he wouldn’t mind a round two this evening when you both get home.

“How do I look?” You ask, gesturing to your hair. Hopper leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette, “Gorgeous, as always.”

You smooth your hands through your hair and quickly swipe under your eyes, realizing then that you’ve been in Hopper’s office for far too long, your mascara is far too smeared, and your once crisp and perfect shirt is far too wrinkled.

With one last glance at him, you reach for his office door handle and pull it open. An officer is standing there, frozen in place with his fist in the air as though he was about to knock. You slip past him, grab a stack of folders on your way back to your desk, and call over your shoulder, “Oh, hi Phil!”

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x you #david harbour #stranger things smut

[chrollohearttags]

OMG I cant stop thinking abut musician!Eren and influencer!turned rapper/singer!reader. I read one of ur posts where Eren makes a diss track. But imagine when the media gets a hold of the breakup!!!! All these rappers come out tryna get readers attention and it’s absolutely KILLING EREN!

I feel like reader probably was good friend with a couple rappers and they all hop on a track (not to diss Eren or anything) but the reader is kinda just having a little fun doing things she has never done before!

Musician!Eren and his homeboys probably out chiling when reader and a bunch of rappers come up on TV that’s talking bout the hot new track and music video that was just released and the world going dumb for reader rapping!!

no I don’t think you understand how good this is omg!!! I love this so so much!!! 😭🙏🏾

so (y/n) and eren end up having a less than amicable split (could be conflicting schedules, him being selfish, you doing something he didn’t like, etc. who knows…for the sake of this, we’ll say he’s at fault!) but either way, y’all go your separate ways and obviously, it stings for both of you..neither of you take it well in the beginning. You’re on Instagram throwing subs through your story and he’s doing what he does best: hopping in the booth, channeling his pain. But the one thing you hadn’t bet on was the amount of other artists who were waiting in line for something like this to happen. You’d hear whispers of your name being dropped in songs or referencing your dancing…little things, nothing major. To help you cope and kind of get over your obvious heartache, you get a call from some of the rappers that your ex has collabed with in the past, or mutual friends of you guys. Not to be shady or anything, but just to help you vent your frustrations. You were never one for taking your personal problems to the net but when you hear his new song, you can’t help but sense some hostility in his lyrics towards you. Things you’d never imagine him ever saying to you and it makes you upset, to the point that you even find yourself crying on the shoulder of one of these other musicians (probably another female rapper tbh) and at that point, they know what must be done. “Girl, fuck that nigga. You better than all that. Tell you what, come hop on my new song with me, let’s have fun.” And you’re so nervous! Like looking crazy because you’ve never done something like that. “I’m not a rapper. I can’t do that.” “Girl, anybody can do anything if they set their mind to it.” But there’s always room for new beginnings..so reluctantly, you start penning down some words that express your pain and even some things you’d always wanted to talk about. It’s summertime and the ladies need a new anthem. You and your friends are all in the studio with the rap girls as well and y’all are just having fun! No drama, no beef, none of that sad shit either. “Baby, we outside this summer. Shaking ass, living life..we gotta give the girls something to turn up to.” And from there, that’s all you need! You start writing a verse and with a little help from the professionals, you go in that booth and lay it down. Not even thinking about whether it sounds bad or good. You just brag on yourself, on your fine ass friends and how y’all are the baddest bitches walking. Eren or any other man is an afterthought by the time you finish! a couple weeks pass and even though you’re still healing, it’s getting easier not having him around. Meanwhile, Eren decides to go out to the club, more than likely against his will but he needs a distraction. But that doesn’t last long when he sees a screen playing a video with a bunch of women down at Miami Beach dancing. That’s when the DJ says something he’d never thought he’d hear in a million years: “this that new joint, the new summer anthem from (insert rapper name) and (y/n) (l/n)! And let me tell y’all, the rap game gotta a new problem. Let’s play that shit.” And when he hears your voice, flowing on the track like you’ve been waiting your whole life to do this, he’s stunned. His homeboys are starting at him, hitting his arm. “Bro, you hear that shit?! What the fuck? Why ain’t you tell us your girl could spit like that?” But he’s equally as shocked as they are. He’s confused and as your ex man, he doesn’t even want to look at you. But as an artist…his interest is piqued! Either way, it’s the perfect excuse to hit your line. “I gotta go make a call real quick.”

#cherry’s asks 🍒 #thank you nonnie #this was amazing #musician x influencer au #musician au #musician eren #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black fem reader #black fem reader #aot x black reader #eren x black reader #eren headcanons #drabbles #snk drabble #eren drabble #aot headcanons #aot au #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #aot eren #black fanfiction #black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger headcanons #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger x black fem reader #I really love this concept #even if I can never imagine them breaking up #queued post #queued posts

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • Part 5

warnings: none!!! just sad

Y/N struggles with not knowing where Rosie is.

Every day had been the same since Rosie had gone MIA. You'd wake up, head feeling like it was in a vice and get to the school on autopilot. The sky had been appropriately gray, and thick with fog most mornings, the twin of your current state of mind. You'd stay at the school late, grading papers and try your best to construct meaningful lesson plans so the children could still thrive and learn despite your sadness. They'd sometimes ask, their sweet, little faces full of sympathy as they'd question your upset. “Miss?” A little voice would say, “Are you alright?” You'd force a smile on your face and look back at them reassuringly. 

“Yes, my dear,” your voice catching in your throat. “I'll be fine.”

---

A week. And then two. Three, then four, all rolling into a ball of nothingness, blurring together. Most days, you're greeted by Sally who is always available to walk you home despite the treacherous weather and everyday she looks at you with her big sad eyes, shaking her head mournfully, wordlessly reminding you that there's no new information. Most days, you walk home in silence, her arm in yours, keeping you upright physically as well as metaphorically.

It's on the fourth week, on a Friday, that you hear a sharp rap on your door. Being in bed already - the only way you can seem to feel close to Rosie - you simply yell “come in!” to whoever is visiting at this late hour. You hear the door open quietly, and hear the familiar tip-tap of Sally in her kitten heels. You hear her kicking them off and placing them by the door, hurrying up the stairs in her now stockinged feet, padding all the way up the plush carpet. 

“Hi, darling,” she greets quietly, her face full of sympathy. “I thought I'd try coax you out to the pub.”

“No thanks,” you mumble, staring up at the ceiling. “I'm fine here.”

“Oh, doll,” she begins, walking towards the bed. “How are you doing?” Still not tearing your eyes from the ceiling, you nod quickly, trying to reassure your friend. But she knows you better than that, and after all these years, she can read you like a book. Before you can properly respond, she sees two tears leak from each eye and splash into your ears and on the pillow. 

Trying to comfort you the way she used to when you were kids, she goes to lay down next to you on the bed.

“No!” you start. “N-no, Sal. Don't lay there,” you softly weep. “That's where Rosie slept the night before–” You wipe your face with the back of your hand, trying to stop the tears flowing. “It still smells like him. Don't lay on it, Sal.” You pause, looking at your friend, her own eyes full of tears. She sniffs, trying to blink them back. 

“Then squidge up,” she says after a moment. “I'll lay on your pillow with you.” You wriggle slightly to the right to make room for her in the center of the bed, you just hanging off the edge slightly. She takes your hand and strokes it, just like she did right after Granny passed away. You whimper at her action, the sob that was thick in your throat finally being released. 

“Where is he, Sally? Where's my boy?”

“Y/N…darling…I don't know. I ask James everyday for an update. He's promised that he'll be round here like a shot if he ever finds anything out.” You nod, swallowing as you sniff back more tears.

“He's a good egg, Sal. I like him. I like how happy he makes you.”

“Me, too,” she sighs wistfully. “When all this is all over, I'm thinking of moving there to be with him.” 

“Sally, that's wonderful. I'll miss you terribly–”

“But let's not talk of that now. We need to take care of you.” She crawls off the bed and pulls you with her. “Come on,” she commands, rushing to your wardrobe. “You need to stop rotting. Let's go to the pub. Apparently, Rita is engaged to two of the Americans and neither knows about the other. Isn't that something?” You hear yourself gasp and then giggle, the first laugh you've made in weeks. 

“Well, now you've tempted me. Now I have to come.” 

—

The excited yapping you hear as you walk into the pub ceases at the sight of you, your friends looking back at you in surprise, before they stand up and rush to hug you, one by one. Murmurs of “oh, Y/N, we're so happy to see you,” and “how are you doing?” follow their embraces, and you find your eyes leaking at their affection and sympathy. Hugging them back, you sigh, not quite used to this level of affection.

 “Alright, ladies,” you struggle to gasp out, but smiling nonetheless. “I need to know everything about Rita. Spill.” 

They sit down, excited to finally be able to tell you the tales they've heard over the past few weeks. For a moment, your head is clear, listening to your friends chatter on, their voices octaves higher as they giggle their way through the spiel. You don't even notice that Sally has rushed over to the bar to greet James, until he places a pint in front of you with a sympathetic smile. He winks at you as you smile back, knowing you're thanking him with no words needed. You take a long sip, letting the alcohol run through your body and somehow, giving it warmth as you finally are able to enjoy something.

“So, she ended up saying yes to both men because she didn't want to upset either of them, and somehow, Y/N, neither knows about the other. But, get this! They're co-pilots!”

“What?!” you screech, ale almost flying through your nose in shock. “They must know! There's absolutely no way–”

“We thought that, too!” Sally replies, wide eyed and a little frazzled. “But Rita maintains that they have no clue.”

“Nope, not buying it,” you giggle, hand covering your mouth. “They must talk about her to one another! They're either ignoring it or somehow, it's not clicking that they're both with the same girl!” 

For just a small moment, your overwhelming sadness is forgotten, the pit in your stomach somehow smaller than it had been in the past weeks. But, then, all of a sudden, your mind goes back to the night you spent with him; how he'd touched you, the way he'd wrapped himself around you to fall asleep for those few hours. The way he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. It's those thoughts that send you into a tailspin, lips pressed together to keep the tears at bay. Draining your glass, you gesture over to the barman for another and try to keep breathing steadily. 

—

“Hey! Wait, seriously? You're not lyin’ to me?” You hear a familiar Tennessee drawl behind you, and an excited one at that. “Croz, she's right there!” They both pause for a moment. “Can I tell her, sir?”

“Sure thing,” Croz replies. You turn around at the two familiar voices. James smiling brightly at you, Harry nervously shuffling from one foot to the other, clutching his hat in his slightly shaking hands. 

“Y/N, c'mere, doll!” James beckons you over with his booming voice. You stand and walk towards the two men, forcing a polite smile on your face. 

“Hi, James. Oh, Harry, wonderful to see you. Can I get you a drink?” 

“No, ma'am,” he replies, now not able to hold back his apparent joy. “Pearson here has something to tell you. I've been rushing all over base looking for this fella to tell him what he's about to tell you.” You look at James with an expectant expression, feeling your eyes widen. He can't seem to get the words out, nor keep a straight face. 

“Out with it, Jimmy, before I lose my mind!” You scold, playfully pushing him. 

“Rosie got word to base!” 

“What?!” you shout, your arms going across your chest in shock. “W-where is he?” Tears fill your eyes and they escape before you're aware of what's happening. 

“He got shot down in Berlin,” Croz begins, his downturned eyes having an underlying sadness to them as he looks at you. “But, he managed to keep the plane flying until everyone had bailed out. He's in Russia.” 

“Russia? He's safe, right?”

“Yes, ma'am. He says they're taking really good care of him.” Harry laughs a little, wondering whether to divulge further information. You see that, and nod at him to carry on. “He says the vodka is impeccable.” Laughing, you feel familiar arms around your waist, Sally's head on your shoulder, half laughing, half crying as she hears the news. 

Word spreads to the rest of the pub, the airmen cheering and hugging at the news. James hands you a whiskey, then thrusting one in Croz's hand. You clink glasses with him, and with James before turning back to Harry.

“Thank you,” you begin, voice shaking slightly. “Thank you for coming to tell me, for even thinking of me.”

“No problem,” he replies nervously. “To Rosie?”

“To Rosie.”

---

thank you once again to my besties @sagesolsticewrites and @ginabaker1666 for reading this multiple times before posting (as usual!!!) <3

#masters of the air #mota #mota fic #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal fic #rosie rosenthal x reader #the apple tree #winnie writes

[jungle-angel]

Just Relax (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob’s an aching mess, but once he’s home it’s a completely different story

Bob pulled into the driveway and shut the truck off for the night, the weight of the day hanging heavy on every last part of his body. He placed his head on the steering wheel and let it all out, the tears flowing freely as shuddering sobs overtook his body. 

He wanted to scream from how much had built up during the day. First it had been the antics of a newbie, a kid barely fresh out of Top Gun who thought he was the cat’s ass and could show off, nearly risking the lives of the team. The second instance had been when Bob had received a stern talking to from Cyclone about how he needed to get a better handle on the new recruits. As if it had been his fault!

The las instance had been when  another arrogant prick had made some unseemly remarks about a photo in Bob’s locker, the photo of you and him snuggling tiny little Auggie while he was still in his little incubator. That had ended with him tackling the guy to the ground and nearly breaking his nose, another instance which had earned him another stern talking to. 

Bob heard the rapping of knuckles on the window and when he bolted upright, there you were, the look on your face being one of concern. “Baby?” you asked as soon as Bob rolled down the window. “Baby what’s wrong?” 

A little whimpering “Oh” escaped Bob’s hoarse throat before his chin began to wobble. You opened the truck door, his six foot frame staggering out onto the driveway before his big arms wrapped around you and pulled you against him. His tears ran hot and burning against your neck as his body shuddered with the sobs that escaped him. One look up at his soft, but pitiful face and you knew something was wrong. 

“Talk to me Bob,” you told him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Baby don’t leave me,” he sobbed. “Please don’t leave me, I’m so sorry.” 

“Bob, what are you talking about?” you asked him, bewildered that he would say such a thing.

Bob unloaded everything onto you, telling you about everything that had happened, his eyes red and stinging horribly from how much he had been crying. 

“Bob I’m so sorry baby,” you cooed, kissing his face. “C’mon in. You need to relax.” 

You were happy that Auggie and Patrick were out of the house with Bob’s mom and dad and that it would just be you and Bob for a few nights. “If it’ll make you feel any better,” you said, turning on the hot water in the bathtub of your shared bathroom. “I had a rough day myself.” 

“What happened?” Bob croaked. 

“Well,” you began. “Auggie almost got into your dad’s pot brownie stash in the fridge.” 

Bob’s eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Damn, I told him to keep those in his room,” Bob groaned. 

“Oh it gets better,” you told him, trying to reach in the medicine cabinet and all the while minding your growing belly. “Baby girl decided she was gonna practice her karate kicks and I ended up peeing my pants in front of my students.” 

Bob made a face. Definitely embarrassing if he ever heard it. “Did you get a new pair of pants?” 

“I did,” you told him. “And then Auggie tossed his cookies all over my shirt.” 

Bob buried his face in his hands. “Baby I’m so sorry,” he apologized. 

“Bob, listen,” you said, taking the jar of dried bath herbs you had made for Bob out of the medicine cabinet. “It happens, we all go through it. Don’t ever apologize for venting. Now get in that bath before I have to haul you in myself.” 

“Yes dear,” Bob answered. 

Bob stripped off every piece of clothing before you helped him in. He gave your belly a kiss as he lowered himself into the steaming hot water, the smells of cedar, eucalyptus, mint and citronella filling his nose before you squirted some Irish Spring on a hot washcloth. You scrubbed his back and shoulders, the obscene groans filling your ears as your baby girl began kicking again. 

“Baby thank you so much,” Bob purred. 

“Bob you know I’d do this for you any day of the week,” you said, kissing his hair. 

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader #dagger squad

[dusty-cobweb]

julian bashir is a british drill rap legend btw.

he got into it shortly after turning 15 because he wanted to rebel against his parents. and what’s a better way to disappoint your posh english parents then to begin drilll? so julian went to the underground drill battles, watched and analyzed their flow and behavior and replicated it /perfectly/. soon enough, he was the pinnacle of english drill.

flash forward to ds9 and everyone is at quark’s celebrating a successful first contact or whatever and quark busts out the karaoke. dax does her klingon opera, miles does “500 miles”, even sisko joins in. the night goes, the drinks flow and eventually the attention turns to our dear doctor bashir and his musical talents. he tries to refuse at first, but with everyone pressuring him how can he refuse? he gets on the stage and everyone is ready for him to make a fool of himself. and then he starts rapping. what the fuck. dax is going insane, throwing sisko around by the shoulders. miles spits out his drink. kira is awe struck at this new side of the doctor. who would’ve guessed that the CMO is a drill GOD.

#julian bashir #doctor bashir #ds9 #star trek ds9 #star trek #headcanon #deep space nine #deep space 9 #julian bashir ds9

[moodymisty]

Hiya! Could I request some Magnus / GN! Reader shenanigans? Like the reader is trying to learn a spell (to impress Magnus), does it by "The books are just guidelines anyways", and it works. Then they go to show Magnus and confusion hell breaks loose Blease and thankyou <3<3<3

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Magnus time! I was actually working on something just like this, so this gave me the motivation to really spruce it up and finish it. But I really apologize because when I reread your request I realized I might've gone a bit less silly than you might've wanted. I hope you still enjoy.

Relationship: Magnus the Red/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None apart from this being my first time writing Magnus so please forgive me figuring him out I'm sorry if he feels off

Word Count: 1220

Sorcery is by it's very nature, finicky.

It has no solid answer, no yes or no. It's not as if it's a machine you can turn on or off, or a star you can see is alive or dead. It's an ebb and flow- something you feel.

But how do you feel something you've never felt before?

These tomes are largely nonsensical to you; The scribblings of madmen, words with no translation and sentences backwards.

You'd once again today attempted to make sense of it all, to tempt your better judgement that kept saying it maybe wasn't your most intelligent idea, but nothing has happened yet. So now you sit in bed, flicking through pages of tomes scattered across the blankets; Attempting to perhaps make enough sense of it and not bring anymore embarrassment to yourself than you already have.

In your fussiness you've already given yourself two different paper cuts, licking your wounds both physical and mental. You should probably be sleeping, the stars are out bright, and the wind gently raps against the windows as you study.

Magnus' tower is so ethereal, you look towards the window for a moment and see nothing but the midnight sky illuminating everything underneath it.

After thinking, you look back towards the oversized tome in your lap, lying on your thighs over top of a blanket. You'd picked many of the books not necessarily at random, but attempting to find the most basic of starting places from a collection that puts most others to shame. Magnus has many shelves up here, filled with his personal collection of tomes and scrolls. You sort've wish he was here to help guide you, but at the same time, you wish to surprise him to some degree.

You try just one more time, attempting to light a small ember in your palm. You follow every word exactly as the instructions- if you could call them that, and mange to hold it for only a few moments before it flickers away as if blown out by breath.

"Ugh!"

You drop your head, it coming quite close to hitting the pages of the tome.

"What is this?"

Your head suddenly whips upright, seeing Magnus himself standing in the doorway across the room. You don't know how you hadn't heard his footsteps, though you suppose you were far too distracted for your ears to prick to any other sound than what was right next to you.

Entering the room and closing the massive door behind him, Magnus takes in the scenery he's missed while aboard Photep, traveling the stars. After his quick glances he focuses on you cross legged in his bed, surrounded by opened and unopened books.

"Magnus!" He slowly walks closer to the beside, one finger brushes a tome he's clearly familiar with and opening it to a particular page; Glossing over it before he lets it gently fall back shut.

"Now, what are you concocting in that little mind of yours that requires so many spell tomes?"

Magnus watches amused as you close the book in your lap, legs cross underneath it and look at your slightly burned palm.

"I was trying to call fire. But it seems it's a bit harder than I thought." His smile fades a bit softer, watching your expression. The fabric of his robes is weaved with gold string that shines in the soft candle light.

"You seem to have had it, from what I saw."

You can feel his long red hair brush against your arm as he sits beside you, his massive height and weight difference forcing the appropriately massive bed to dip heavily to his side. It almost makes you roll, but you quickly adjust to prevent that. Now in your atmosphere it's a bit easier to look him in the eye, but you still have to crane your next a decent bit.

"I was following the tomes exactly like they said, and the best I can do is a little baby kindling. I'd have trouble even setting a letter alight."

You look up towards him, hands playing with the edges and filigree of the old, worn tome in your lap. Magnus speaks up, his tone curious and a bit surprised.

"Exactly?"

His eye glances down to the front cover of the tome in your hand, and recognizes that one instantly. With one hand, he gently reaches underneath the covers and gently clamps the tome shut, the top of his hand laying against your thighs before he pulls the tome towards his chest.

"Then you are taking it all far too literally." Perhaps the book shouldn't be written so literally then, you rebelliously think. He lays the tome aside, and uses the same hand to gently cup your jaw between his fingers and look up at him.

"it's far more of a feeling that anything, my love. If you keep just following the tomes, you might end up burning something down. Or as you've noticed, burning nothing at all." He lets out a laugh, feeling your cheeks move under his finger tips.

"I never thought you to be so studious in following directions. Perhaps you'd prefer Primarch Guilliman to myself?" You let out a harsh puff of air through your closed lips, making an insulting noise. Your hand grips his wrist and tries to pull it away, but to no avail, and instead you just grip the massive muscles of his arm and scowl.

"Funny."

He smiles wider. How you speak to him so casually now, compared to months ago. Perhaps his teasing makes it easier for you to forget who he is. He doesn't mind it.

A testament to your determination, you'd been able to cast something despite a lack of knowledge; But you could do well in having someone set you on the right path. Afterall, Magnus knows simply treating something with such an ebb and flow as sorcery as rules you can memorize will never bear any fruit.

Magnus can guide you, and truthfully, he would love for nothing more than to.

His sons don't need to be taught. They learn from his actions, and most are more than capable of progressing on their own and honing their own skills. To be able to teach his beloved something that is such a core part of himself, to guide your hand and your mind to touch something greater- he finds himself almost, dare he say excited.

He's rough on his sons, he knows they can take it. That they're built for sorceries and touching the warp. But with you he'll have to be gentle. The thought of it, to sit with you and show you wondrous things that your home planet kept from your eyes, he would start right now if not for one thing.

Magnus lets go of your jaw. He leans down and gently brushes a kiss against your temple, his fire red hair brushing against your skin again.

"Now, as much as I don't wish to part you from your reading, I have returned from Terra at my absolute wits end and desiring some rest." He smiles and vaguely gestures to the mess you've made of his bed during his absence. He can see other little messes throughout his chambers, as well.

"So my love, perhaps you could move your research, off the bed?"

#magnus the red x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[shingekinomyfeelings]

too much, not enough (Reiner x gn reader; hurt/comfort)

swf. unspecified setting/timeline. ~450 words. mild warning for depictions of depression

Reiner finds you in a vulnerable state and offers an assurance.

notes: I wrote this after a nasty fight with someone left me feeling like a POS, because I guess this is the kind of thing I wish I had someone to tell me when I'm fucked up. It's super short and I'm pretty sure I was crying my eyes out while I wrote it, but it did make me feel better, so I hope it does the same for someone else.

Reader is gender neutral, and this could easily be either canon universe or an AU; it's up to you, friendos.

Originally published March 2023.

You’ve been staring at the wall for longer than you realize, curled on your side on the bed, wrapped in an air of listlessness and lethargy. That’s how Reiner finds you, as he has before, and he doesn’t need to see your tired, reddened eyes to know that you’re struggling again.

He makes his voice soft – as soft as he’s able, anyway – as he calls your name, and you respond with a delayed lift of your hand before you let it flop back to your side. Reiner crosses the room and clambers onto the bed to lay curled around you as best he can.

“Hey, dove.” He tugs you against him and rests his chin on your shoulder, his stubble scratchy against your skin, and you can feel his voice rumble in his chest as he asks, “You wanna talk?”

You’re slow to speak, knowing that when you do, the tears will start flowing again, and reply haltingly, “Do you ever feel like... you’re somehow simultaneously too much for everyone, and not enough for anyone?”

Reiner blinks, considering how to answer the question. He could tell you, and he’d mean every word of it, that you’re never too much for him, that you’ve always been enough, but he knows as well as anyone can that simply telling someone that their self-loathing assertions are wrong doesn’t really make them disappear. So, after a brief pause, he answers honestly, “Not as often, since I’ve been with you.”

You take a deep breath and try to steady your voice, but it still comes out as a half-whimper, “Sometimes I don’t understand why you put up with me.”

“Hrmm…” Reiner tucks a few errant strands of hair behind your ear and out of your weary face. “Same reason you put up with me?”

You can’t help but sound borderline offended as you reply, “But I don’t ‘put up’ with you, I love you. Even when you do make me aggravated now and then, it’s always been worth it for all the other times I have with you.”

He very gently raps his knuckles against the top of your head, his voice still soft. “So, same reason, then.”

This brings on a fresh wave of tears as you reach to take his hand in yours and press your lips to his fingers, trying not to tremble or cry. He kisses your jawline and intertwines his fingers with yours to give your hand a tight squeeze. “You can cry if you need to. I’ll stay here.”

And then all you can do is let yourself cry softly, until the tears slow and the sound of his breathing lulls you into a rest.

And outside, you can hear birds singing...

#reiner #reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x gender neutral reader #reiner braun x y/n #reiner x reader #hurt/comfort #depressed reader #super sweet Reiner

[musings-of-a-rose]

Love at the Top - Part 2

Pairing: Teacher Ben x f! Teacher reader

Word Count: 2000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This is a multiple requested smutty part 2 to LOVE AT THE TOP with our beloved Teacher Ben! @fishingforpike I hope you like it! It was not beta'd.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Main Masterlist 

Teacher Ben Masterlist

Love at the Top Part 1

A knock raps on my door promptly at noon. I open it with a smile, my dress swishing around me as Ben stands there, mouth slightly agape behind the flowers he has in his hand. 

"Y-you… you l-look amazing."

I smile, swaying my hips side to side. "Thanks. Are those for me?"

"Oh, yeah. I wasn't sure what your favorite was so I got one of each."

The bouquet held about 12 flowers, each one a different kind. It was bright and beautiful, bring life into the room when I placed them in a vase on my table. 

"They're beautiful, Ben. Thank you."

He wipes his palms against his pants before putting them in his pockets. "You ready? We have an hour drive or so."

"You never told me where…wait. Does your tie have a Gatsby quote on it?" I walk up to him, picking up the end of the tie and looking at it. 

"Oh, uh yeah. You said it was your favorite…" His voice trails off as he shrugs. 

I look up at him, big brown eyes looking at me like I'm the only thing in the room. I tug it to pull him down and kiss him, arms sliding around each other. Suddenly he breaks the kiss, staring down at me. 

"We better get in the car or we'll never make it."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

He groans in the back of his throat. "No. But I really think you'll like it."

"And I wouldn't like you?"

He chuckles. "I hope you will, sweet girl."

"You're gonna have to stop calling me that if you want us to leave."

He smiles. "That's fair."

He takes my hand and leads me out of the door, pausing as I lock it behind me. We drive for about an hour, chatting about anything and everything along the way, having concerts with the good songs that come on. It's only when he turns into the parking lot that I realize where he's taken me. 

"The Gatsby manuscript??" I all but yell, neatly vibrating off my seat as I stare out the window at the museum. "How did you know I've been dying to see them?"

"You mentioned it a month or so ago."

I turn to look at him. "A month? And you remembered?"

He smiles and nods at me. "Of course. Your eyes light up when you talk about it."

I lean in and kiss him, my hand rubbing at the stubble on his cheek. "How did you score tickets? They've been sold out for a while."

"The curator is my cousin."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"That's so fucking cool."

He escorts me out and into the museum, watching my face nearly the entire time, letting me ramble on and on about how much I love The Great Gatsby and how amazing it is to see it first hand, actually handwritten notes by the author himself. 

He smiles the whole ride back to town as I continue to talk, the conversation eventually shifting to Star Wars as we sit down to eat. Conversation flows easy between us, no matter what we're talking about. 

Eventually, we end up on my doorstep, both of us shuffling nervously and chattering on, unwilling to let the evening end. 

"I had a great time, Ben."

"Me too. I didn't think you'd get along with an old man like me."

"I thought we agreed you aren't old?"

"No, you said I wasn't old. My back begs to differ." 

"Hhmm…" I fiddle with his tie. "Sounds like you need to go to bed."

"Y-Yeah. That might help."

He kisses me, pushing me back against my front door. I hitch my leg over his thigh, pulling him closer, both our hands tangled in the other's hair. 

"I have a bed inside you can use."

His eyes darken as he stares down at me. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

I fish out my keys, trying to unlock my door but finding it hard to focus with Ben's hands on my hips, rubbing little circles into them. 

Finally, my door unlocks and I push it open, turning to grab onto Ben's tie, pulling him inside, giggling when he kicks the door shut behind him. I reach behind him to lock it, gasping when Ben starts sucking on my neck. 

"Ben," I sigh, feeling him shift and moan into my neck.

His lips move to mine and we start to walk, me guiding us towards my bedroom. But several steps later, Ben trips and we fall and he lands on top of me. 

"Fuck I'm sorry! Are you-"

I pull his face to mine, kissing the apology from his lips, my legs parting to pull him in closer and I can feel him through his pants. 

"Here?" He breaks the kiss, staring down at me, our noses barely touching. 

"I don't care where, Ben. I need you. Now." I grip the back of his shirt, trying to untuck it from his pants. 

"I.. yeah ok."

I look at him this time. "Is that ok?"

"I.. yeah."

I push him up slightly, getting him to meet my eyes. "What is it?"

He blushes slightly, looking away from my gaze. "I just…"

"Are your knees ok? Your back?"

"What? Oh yeah I'm ok."

"Then what?"

He quiet a moment. "I've never done…this… on a floor before."

Oh. 

I smile and trace his cheek with my fingertip. "That's ok, Ben. Do you want to?"

His clothed hips rut into mine in response and I whine, watching him smirk down at me. "I want you, sweet girl."

"Then take me. Please."

His eyes darken, blowing wide with lust before he kisses me. One of his arms braces him on the ground while the other moves down my body, sliding up my bare thigh as he pushes my dress up. He hesitates at my panties but when I moan, he gains some courage, hooking his fingers around the band and sliding them down. His hand comes back up my body, his finger teasing me between my thighs. Finally he touches me and my hips jolt at the connection. 

"Oh fuck," I pant, as his fingers explore my apex. 

"I gotta work you open, sweet girl. Get you ready for me. Is that ok?"

I nod several times quickly, pleading for him to do more. He wastes no time in pushing a finger inside me, twirling his finger around until I jolted. He adds another finger and finds that spot again, curling his fingers against it. 

"Here?" He asks, studying my face. 

"Oh fuck yes!" His thumb comes up to rub at my clit and I'm done for, too wound up to wait and I whine his name, gripping his arms as I find my release. 

"You make the sweetest sounds when you come."

I chuckle. "I usually don't come that fast even when I'm solo."

His eyes snap to mine. "When..when y-you're solo?"

"Yes, Ben. People masterbate."

His voice is quiet and a few octaves lower. "Will you show me sometime?"

"I can show you now-"

He grabs the wrist I had started to slide down my body. "No. Now, I need you. If that's ok?"

"God, please."

He lifts himself slightly off of me and I fumble with his belt, quickly opening it and reaching my hand inside to grip him. He grunts, a series of swears tumble from him as I pull him out. He's big, bigger than I've had. No wonder he had to work me open - I can't barely close my fingers around him. I line him up with me and I feel him at my entrance, just touching me and heat rushes to my cunt. But he doesn't move. 

"Ben?"

"Do you have a condom?"

"I uh, oh. No. But we discussed being clean-"

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"I'm protected. It's safe. If you want."

There's no more color in his eyes, dark and black with lust. "Oh God I want to. If that's-"

"Stop asking if every move is ok. All of it is. You have my consent to fuck me however you want. If something is wrong I'll tell you. Just please, Ben. I need you to move."

He catches my gaze and then slowly pushes inside of me. I can feel my skin stretching to accommodate his size, burning slightly at the edges but it's a good feeling. He pauses halfway and looks at me.

"Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah. You're just…the biggest I've ever had."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"If you stop, I'm going to fling myself out of the window."

He chuckles. "We can't have that."

My reply dies on my lips as he pushes in the rest of the way, stretching and filling me. I don't remember ever feeling this full before, and oh shit what is he hitting inside me? 

Ben pulls his hips back and slides into me again, slowly still. I hitch my thigh over his hip and he grabs it to hold my leg in place. He adds an extra thrust when he bottoms out and I cry his name, stars erupting in my vision as heat rushes between my thighs. Ben is hesitant, as if he can't read my expression. Or he doubts himself. 

"There! Fuck, Ben. What are you- ugh!" He pushes in again, picking up his pace and slamming into that spot over and over, my next orgasm building quickly with each thrust. He slows down, only to bring a hand up, trying to lift my dress up over my chest. He's struggling, so I reach my hands up, sliding down the straps and pulling down the top of my dress. Thankful I wore a front clasping bra, I quickly undo it, boobs springing free. His hips falter as he stares at my chest. 

He drops his head to my chest, taking a boob in his mouth, biting at my nipple. His hips resume rutting into me and my release washes over me, warmth spreading out from between my thighs as I cry his name, Ben still moving his hips and hitting that spot to drag out my release. 

"I'm gonna…" Ben tries to speak but then his hips sputter, thrusting up several more times into me, quiet moans and gasps leaving his lips as he comes inside of me. Breathing heavy, we lay there still connected for a few moments, just trying to catch our breath. Ben lifts his head from my chest and stares down at me, the lust receding and being replaced by something more like…love?

"Fuck you're so beautiful." 

"So are you, Ben."

He scoffs. "I'm an old man."

"An old man who just fucked me into this floor."

He smirks, unable to hide the pride on his face. "That's true. But I'm sure you've done this before, with your young back and all."

"No one has ever fucked me like that, Ben. I've never…I've never came like that before."

His eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"It's like you were hitting some spot in the back of me. Like..at the far back-"

He nods. "I think that's called your a spot?"

"WE HAVE ANOTHER SPOT? MY EDUCATION HAS FAILED ME."

Ben cracks up, his laughter shaking my body as I join him too, stopping when he hisses. 

"Stop laughing! Hold on." He pulls out and then resumes laughing with me. 

Ben helps me straighten my dress and stand up, pulling me close to his body and kissing me. 

"You ok?"

"I am. But next time let's be in a bed. I may be 24 but this floor is still hard."

His eyes darken. "Next time?"

"Yeah. If you want?"

"As long as you'll have me. I'm free tomorrow for dinner?"

"Dinner? I was thinking in another 10 minutes."

He chuckles. "I'm an old man, sweet girl. I don't think my knees can do that again so soon."

"Who says you'll be on top?"

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics

#teacher ben #mr ben #snl #saturday night live #pedro pascal snl pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[ashedddaisy]

Win's scene is also important to me (this might be a long post, sry). Because there is a slight parallel with Winsound and Tinngun.

Gun is a good leader for those who follow him and Win is a loyal follower, needing someone else to give him the push in the back that he needs to be able to do stuff sometimes. While gun can initiate, he also needs the support on his side to be able to move forward.

Maybe he just took advantage of Sound's presence to give himself a push to do it finally, those questions and arguing could have been his own internal thoughts about what he was doing at the time and he put them out there by mirroring himself on Sound. He had to work, but ditched it for music. He had to practice, but he could only procrastinate. All these doubts, self sabotage, making him even more reactive. And Sound noticed and he did push Win's buttons on the rap scene for Win to move forward.

Both Win and Gun want to prove themselves, they want to make it in the industry and they put themselves out there to see what would happen.

I find it relatable and special how they showed these two having the same outcome (losing to someone else) in two different scenarios.

Because you can be the best of your age, you can have support and you could have practiced, and even then someone else can be better than you.

Because even with skill, if there's no dedication or practice, you can fail and lose to someone who's not that good. (I didn't like Lekcifer at all, spitting rude shit and then having Win's lines in the song of this ep being so wholesome)

I find it embarrassing on purpose. The scene itself it's cringey but well done and it works for this situation.

But it is important to get your ass out there and try, fail, try, fail again, try and win, and maybe even then, fail again.

It is also important to be vulnerable and let your walls down, even if it was a one time thing. An impulsive action. Not wanting to do so but ending up doing it anyway. Actually reaching out first and so many other situations.

The whole rap in the song was special to me, but it sums up to we all need to grow on our own pace, using as many anchors as needed (prayers, support from others), efforts, and going with the flow of life. If you act upon your love and passion, you'll gain something. Experience, memories, growing feelings, friends, confidence, and so many others.

And well... I guess he has now grown fond of this guy, and I find that adorable.

#does anyone want a plate served with msp over analysis? #my school president #geminifourth #tinngun #my school president the series #winnytang #winny thanawin #satangwinny #satang kittiphop #winsound #soundwin

[chaifootsteps]

Log Anon here

Now, usually when I talk about other anons I act like some sort of god. Case and point that unending search threat. But now, I’ve been inspired to use my shitty writing skills to make lyrics about how much that anon’s song sucked.

———————————

ANON! Let’s start with the fact that this Rapper thought he was a genius.

Sitting there on a chair hoping that Viv would touch their penis.

Man, the whole thing is unreadable, agreeably irredeemable.

I’m filled with laughter that they didn’t think that grammar matter, making it damn unappeasable.

Here’s a lesson, never randomise where capitalise letters, it doesn’t make it better, make sure you fix this error.

Anon coming in here thinking their Chai’s terror, but you’re a joke so just give up the endeavour.

The damn block you wrote makes you a damn dope

As well next time you write keep the swears out or do you need some bloody soap?

Here’s things you should’ve realised before you started to theorise.

Chai speaks about Viv because Anon’s bring it up most of the time.

“to Survive or to live”, yo, Mr Potatohead, that line should’ve been cut in half since they don’t rhyme so I’m charging ya for this lyrical crime.

The irony of bringing up witch when you fail to spell.

The hell Chai getting caught for? Revealing pedophiles and workplace abuse?

I hope you know what you’re doing because hating that has no excuse.

You’re the damn fool, you drooling tool, for getting all blue because someone can live both on and off the wifi.

Honestly your likability is so low that when you visit, all of South Africa cry.

I’m seeing lines so unrefined, so horribly designed, that would make Shakespeare want to die.

I think the real freak is the one posted a mediocre rap to defend a bad show.

Every argument you bring up blows and annoyingly disrupts the flow.

Poor attitude? At least be brave and show your true account if you gonna diss.

You tried your shot at internet fame but too bad that by next month no one will know this exists.

The reason no one leaves the hate is because there’s still people who still need to learn.

Now where’s your next burns, oh wait, you playing favourites this turn?

Aw man, this is weak, you think you’re making them meek, you’re one weird freak.

Rhyming must be tough for a kindengartener, butthey know how to rhyme different words.

The logic you bring for Scienceservant name is worse than the smell of a pile of turds.

I ask the same question, is it worth it to do this when you’re nothing but absurd?

Damn, only a cuck can bother someone while trying to suck off another.

ANON! Why the fuck can’t you write?

You say Chai’s hiding but you are too, coward.

You act like you’re the best when your personality, scent and everything else are soured.

Boy, you’re the ending of Danny Phantom, bad, confusing, and an insult to creation itself.

Now go put on your diaper before you go pee yourself.

———————————

At least this won’t the worst rap on this blog

From the ballpit we come and to the ballpit we will all return.

#Anonymous #log anon #image reply #viv stuff #actual blog post

[thesixthcavalier]

I want to rant for a bit here about some of the gameplay elements of Stray Gods that advance so much of the story and character choices that make this story so amazing. Others have probably noticed these things and put them in better words than I, but I've been listening and relistening to various versions of the soundtrack and have an obsession to feed, so here we are.

Much has already been made of the madly impressive fact that the songs are a complex and winding series of choices, where distinct instruments and styles are made to flow neatly from one choice to the next, and each choice you make can drastically change ones you get down the line. And for good reason, that is crazy and amazing and I love it. But what I want to talk about is the way the choices you have, and how they aren't as simple as you might first think, builds characters and relations throughout the game and enhances the story.

To start with, we all know you generally have three options, or flavors, to choose from: Red/Blue/Green. At the start of the game you choose on of these colors to be the sort of core personality of your version of Grace. Green is charismatic, friendly and well meaning, Red is tough and willing to be brash and bold, and Blue is clever and cunning. The nature of this matching of colors to personality is reinforced with several early choices in your interactions with Caliope, Hermes, and the Chorus.

But as the game continues, it quickly becomes apparent that these options get a lot more meat on their bones and that they are not as cut and dry as it might seem on first glance. Yes, Green tends to be more about being friendly while Red is more about a fighty Grace. But the key thing I think, and what really fascinates me, is that it goes deeper on each of these options in relation to who or what Grace is interacting with. Red choices are often confrontational and direct, but that doesn't mean antagonistic. There are several points throughout the game where Red options are definitely cutting through the bullshit or trying to start a fight, but there are also a lot of times where it's a direct and measured response from Grace to try and cut to the heart of an issue.

Blue meanwhile often presents plainly as the clever, thinky option. Again often very true, but I think it also represents the restrained and strategic option. Several blue options are about weighing what is going on, or Grace stepping back to take in her different paths. Green meanwhile has a lot to do with empathy. In my first playthrough I often found myself leaning towards Green options solely because they were instinctive, gut reactions on how to handle people going through something difficult, or to try and mellow out a situation.

All of this is to say, it is utterly fascinating how these choices interact in different scenes in ways that immediately lean into both the character you are choosing for Grace to be, and those she is interacting with. Take Medusa for example. The pure Red track of that fight is all but an actual fight. Grace is taking this in a very hero vs. monster direction and throughout is almost eager to get to actual blows, meanwhile Green leans much more into the angle of Medusa as a victim, a tool being poorly used by the woman who first wronged her anyway. And Blue is manipulative. It sees the paths before Grace and says "I don't need to fight this person, I can use her hurting to get what I want."

We see this even more clearly in Aphrodite's song, and in your first meeting with Persephone, but in different forms. In those songs, while Red is still extremely antagonistic, it takes on much different contexts. With Persephone, Grace is still spoiling for a fight, but a lot of it comes off as less heated. Yeah she is trying to rev up Persephone and cut her down, but it feels a lot more like a poetry slam or rap battle than lines preceding an all out brawl. Meanwhile with Aphrodite it's Grace trying to cut through flowery words and get to the heart of what she sees as the problem with this whole situation.

And to top all of this off, and not go on forever since this is already more than long enough, the way the latter half of the game has you choose another personality trait for Grace, the story not just telling you she has changed and grown but actively making it an element of the game by expanding your special option choices, is brilliant. It naturally, on a first playthrough, leads you into picking a secondary option that is most in line with the way you have been taking Grace as things unfold. If you started the game eager to fight but have since seen the story unfold and feel a calmer, more empathetic approach is warranted, you'll naturally pick that option because it feels appropriate, and same for any other combination. It not only opens up more gameplay, but entwines gameplay with story, and allows you as the player to feel the journey Grace has been on. As yet another link to classical epic poetry it is a slam dunk, and as a gameplay mechanic that reinforces your connection to the character, it's a double slam dunk.

#Stray Gods #roleplaying musical #gameplay #it's seriously excellent in so many ways #the way music art style and gameplay choices come together to make the story more impactful? Fire #No one will read this and that's fine #I just love this game so damn much and need to throw my thoughts to the wind

[dreamersparacosm]

i know it’s not on the list but can u write something including mouth spitting sorry i’m a whore 🫣

sfw!

note ; skdkdjsn I give you: frat austin. im so feral now bye also this is so much longer than it needed to be i could not stop

warnings ; literally just some good old fashioned mouth spitting

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

If there was a limit to how many sweaty bodies could enter Phi Kappa Psi, it was probably flushed down the toilet with the rest of everyone’s morals.

It’s not hard to see that every single person at the party is beyond intoxicated, drunk off liquor and high off any substance they were offered by a brother. Somehow, not including you. One of the terms of your agreement to going out with your roommate, Carly, was that you were going to be home by 1 a.m, which left you ample time to do your skincare routine, eat a snack, and go straight to bed.

In what used to be the living room of the fraternity house is now a full-on brothel: red jugs, jungle juice flows freely, beer is poured, and condensation sweats down the outside of cans. Boys and girls mingle with a slight undertone of flirting. Rap music blasts into your ears, a self-proclaimed DJ mixing pop hits that reveal the brothers' lack of understanding of what music is. It’s your definition of a nightmare.

All this to say - you’re about ready to call it quits for the night. The red solo cup you were nursing previously is down to its final sips, and you feel no desire to go on a hunt for a refill. You look around, hoping to find another familiar face beside Carly to mix with, but you soon realize it’s just a sea of frat brothers and groupies.

“[Y/N], you need to drink more!” Carly exclaims over the music, voice stretching to be heard.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. You sway your hips unenthusiastically, meeting the gaze a few fellow girls, who look more angry at your presence than excited. Just keep swaying, swaying, swaying…

“Yo, Jared, toss me another beer!” A male voice bleeds through the crowd, and it’s prominent enough to make you turn your head to see who it is. It’s embarrassing to think that your heart nearly drops to your ass after seeing who’s directly behind you.

Austin Butler, your school’s certified heartthrob and possible panty-snatcher. He sits a few rows behind you in Calculus, fiddling with his pencil and aimlessly scrolling through Instagram for half the time. But, somehow, in this setting, he’s even more attractive than you’d like to admit.

He’s wearing a muscle tank that is barely covering enough to be considered a shirt, backwards baseball cap thrown on lazily to hide his messy golden locks underneath. Drops of sweat roll down his chest, and you’re almost tempted to ask if you can lick it up for him.

You gulp thickly, turning back around to face Carly, who’s still lost in her own agenda of finding a man to sleep with. Your head aches to turn back around, see if Austin is still there talking to his friend, but you know better. You are better. You don’t just fold over for any random frat boy.

“Hey, you want some vodka?”

It takes about a solid five seconds before you realize he’s talking to you. You, who has the expression of a sour cat who just got woken up too fast. You, who sits in Calculus and feverishly takes notes. You, who shouldn’t even be out anymore, because it’s 1 a.m and there’s a skincare routine to be done.

You turn around, look him dead in the eye. You almost collapse. The bones in your knees shake a little. He raises his eyebrow quizzically, holding the bottle up and shaking it a little for emphasis. You struggle to find words to use in the English language. “Uh, I don’t know, not really a vodka girl.”

Sometimes, you wonder why you were given the right to speak.

His lips curl into a smirk, moves a little closer to you so you can hear what he says. “More of a top-shelf girl?”

“You could say that,” You shrug. You feel small, with his eyes boring into yours, faint traces of his cologne wafting into your nostrils and infiltrating your bloodstream.

“Well, this is all I got, baby. Take it or leave it.”

There’s something final about the statement. Like he’s concluded that he’s going to walk away if you turn him down again, like you serve no purpose after. Every limb in your body screams, yells, for you to just move along and go home.

But you don’t. “Guess I can make an exception for you.”

He grins widely, his iridescent white teeth shining under the strobe lights. Now, you really look at Austin Butler, head spinning and fingertips fuzzy, and it’s clear as to why everyone just spreads their legs open for him. He begins to tilt the bottle back, in the direction of your oblivious mouth, and your eyes nearly fall out of your brain. “Um, what?!” You say incredulously, palm flying up to prevent him from moving the obnoxiously large bottle any closer to you.

“You said you wanted some,” He raises an eyebrow.

“Not straight out the bottle,” you quip. “What am I, a heathen?”

“Right,” He bites his lip slowly, eyes slowly roaming over your body like it’s on display in a mall window. You feel slutty. Downright filthy. “Only the finest for you.”

You watch as he opens his mouth, taking a swig out of the bottle, not swallowing. Locks eyes with yours, never letting them fall for a second, reaches out to tap your chin. You look at him with a dumbfounded expression before he finally wraps his large fingers around your chin, pulling you towards him. He extends your jaw, lips parting, mouth ajar.

Eyes on you, he spits the vodka into your mouth. And you’re not even disgusted by it in the slightest. You just take it, swallow it as it burns down your throat, a fire in your chest growing.

Without warning, with one final glance between your eyes to your lips, he presses his warm ones against yours, hand moving down to wrap around the circumference of your neck. For a second, the music fades, the crowd dies, the people go home, the world twirls on its axis as he kisses you in a way you had never been kissed before. His plump lips dance against yours, fit into them like a missing puzzle piece.

The scary part of it all: you don’t want him to pull away. Not even for a second.

But, he does, for all intents and purposes of needing air. The infamous smirk reappears on his face, grip loosens on your neck, and he says, “See you in Calculus on Monday.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

thank you for joining my 3.5k celly! requests are now closed.

#answered #anon #austin butler #austin butler angst #austin butler blurb #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut #austin butler fluff #angelina’s 3.5k celly

[panda-writes-kpop]

Itzy - Reaction To Them Finding Out That They’re Not Your Original Itzy Bias (Requested!)

A/N: PUT MA SNEAKERS ON- 👟 I mean, hello to my lovely guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! Since my girls decided to release one of the best mini albums this year (No Sneakers or Checkmate hate, I will simply not allow it), I have to release something to celebrate! No, my release schedule didn't just happen to line up with their comeback, stop looking at me like that-

Masterlist!

TW: None, but your teeth might rot from the pure fluff.

Yeji:

Yeji can’t help but smile as you show her your large collection of Itzy merchandise. You had told her that you were a Midzy long before the two of you had started dating, but she didn’t fully believe you until she saw your collection.

Yeji places her hand on yours before you pull out a poster.

“Wow, I can’t believe that you were such a big supporter of us. It’s almost like we were meant to be together."

After unrolling the poster, you realize that it’s one of Lia since she was your first bias in Itzy. You bite your lip as you glance over at Yeji.

Yeji chuckles before tracing Lia’s face with her finger.

“I don’t blame you for biasing Lia first. She is really pretty.”

You laugh before giving her a hug.

“You’re my bias now, if that makes you feel better.”

Yeji sets the poster aside before hugging you back.

“I sure hope I’m your bias since we’re dating now.”

Lia:

You shoot Lia a confused look as she grasps a small photocard binder in her hands.

“Why do you have one of my binders in your hands?”

Lia smiles before opening the binder.

“I was just curious about who you biased in Itzy. I never knew you were into blondes, dear.”

A heavy blush spreads across your face as Lia carefully flips through every page.

“I can explain-”

Lia bursts out laughing before closing the binder.

“I was teasing you, babe. I know I’m your bias now, but I didn’t think that Ryujin would’ve been your first choice.”

She sets the binder aside before pulling you into her arms. She presses a kiss to your cheek, and you softly smile.

“Love you, Lia.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Ryujin:

You place your head into your hands as your mother goes on and on about your greatest childhood embarrassments to your girlfriend. Ryujin smiles and laughs at every memory while pulling you closer.

Eventually, the topic comes to K-pop, and your mom can’t help but mention your obsession with Itzy.

“Oh, really?” Ryujin side-eyes you before smirking. “I never knew that Y/N was that big of a Midzy.”

“They still are, it seems. The only thing that’s changed is her favorite member.”

“Mom!” You yell before blushing out of pure embarrassment.

“Oh, really?” Ryujin turns to you before taking your hand. “Who was your first bias, then?”

“Chae.” You mumble softly while avoiding eye contact with her.

Ryujin chuckles before shaking her head.

“Ah, I see. You’ve got great taste in women, babe.”

Your mom smiles at you before talking.

“See, dear? I told you that you have nothing to worry about. Now, about that time that Y/N fell down a flight of stairs…”

“MOM!”

Chaeryeong:

Chae gives you a soft look as you brag to your friends about how talented your girlfriend is.

“She’s an incredible vocalist, and an even better dancer! Did I mention how good she is at rapping?”

Your friends smile as they enjoy your happiness.

“We’re glad that you’re happy, Y/N, but we weren’t sure that Chae was the member that you were pinning after.”

You immediately reach over and squeeze Chaeryeong’s hand.

“I used to bias Yuna, but that was before I knew how wonderful you were.”

You friends all let out an “Aw!” in unison as Chaeryeong blushes.

“Really? I’m your favorite member?”

“Of course you are! You’re beautiful, talented, funny, and sweet. I couldn’t ask for a better bias or girlfriend.”

You quickly press a kiss to her face before continuing on with an earlier conversation with your friends. Chaeryeong blushes heavily before enjoying the flowing conversation that’s happening in front of her.

Yuna:

While you’re hanging out in your living room, Yuna decides to pop the question then and there.

“So, who was your first bias in Itzy? I’m just asking because I’m curious; that’s all.”

You raise an eyebrow at her before answering.

“Yeji, why?”

“Babeeee!” Yuna whines before pouting. “You were supposed to say that I was your bias!”

“You’re my bias now, if that makes you feel better.”

“It sorta does.” Yuna mumbles before crossing her arms.

You sigh before latching onto Yuna. You give her puppy dog eyes, and eventually, her pout fades.

“I love you, Yuna, and you’ll always be my favorite Itzy member from now on.”

“I better be!���

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #kpop drabble #kpop fanfic #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #girl group x reader #girl group fluff #girl group #kpop fluff #itzy #itzy x reader #itzy scenarios #itzy imagines #yeji x reader #lia x reader #ryujin x reader #chaeryeong x reader #yuna x reader