#in my head it’s just like. fruit juice lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cellophaine · 1 year

Note

Could I get a matt Murdock with an s/o with anxiety? And I don’t mean that sit com tv anxiety where they pretend to scream and get “panicked” ?. I’m talking about The one where your body get suddenly really cold then really hot, and you feel like your body is made of air? I get bad anxiety like that and i often lie on the floor to cool down and to feel better.

I feel like with his hightend senses he can tell when there anxiety gets high before them, just a simple “hay you would lie on the floor, your anxiety is going up” and it just becomes normal? And at home he just kinda lies on the floor with you/ sometimes lieing on top of you (mind out of the gutter!!) and having a funny YouTube video play when it happens?

Peace of Mine

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Warning: Anxiety, fluff.

Author's Note: I wrote this with some of my own experience. I hope that's okay! I didn't mean to make your request so long (just about 1.5k words, but still), and Matt only comes in in the last half, but I hope you'll enjoy the fic! Also, what are the chances that I got anxiety while editing this piece lmao 🥲

Share and feedback are welcomed!

What a perfect day it could have been.

A day off spent at your own pace. Bookshops, cafes, record stores and the farmer's market were all within reasonable walking distance from Matt's place. Spring was approaching, but the air was still cold as if the winter was trying to sweat out its last shivers before the sun was warm enough to chase the chills away. On your shoulder was a jute bag halfway filled with fresh produce as you gradually checked off your list.

You stopped at a fruit stall; the crisp scent of apple rose above all else. The woman behind the table gave you a warm smile, nodding at you. You smiled in return before directing your attention to the fruits. Your eyes roamed over the colourful display, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the ample array. You took an apple in your hand, turning it over and studying its pattern with a forced intensity. Your stomach stirred slightly, and you brushed it off, thinking it was from your breakfast earlier. It took a long moment before you realized you only stared blankly at the apple; your attention slipped over its shiny, reddish skin, taking nothing in even as your fingers nudged against the soft spot that almost cried out in its sour juice.

Your stomach churned again in warning, gradually tying itself in knots as if to brace for what was coming. You felt unsteady on your own feet even as you were rooted to the spot with your head dipped low in an attempt to make the surroundings stop moving. Your body turned cold at the early signs of an anxiety attack that could blow up if you didn't get it under control soon enough.

You took a shuddering breath, doing your best to act normal. Your body grew hot out of the blue as if it tried to flush the cold out. Your mind was stuck in a messy loop, worrying that someone could see through you all the while you tried to compose yourself. Your stomach twisted, your heart raced, and you drew into yourself as if it could stop the pain from digging at you. The familiar and unwelcomed sensation extended throughout your body, manifested in goosebumps along the skin of your arms. You dared a glance at the woman behind the stall, who gave you a look of apprehension. In your distressed mind, it was a look of disdain as if you were an inconvenience by just standing there, being obstructive. It was then that all hell broke loose.

Anxiety unfurled like a flood, sweeping over everything you tried to prevent it from worsening within a heartbeat. You were overwhelmed by different sensations and thoughts as they fed one another in a delirious high despite your best effort to sort and make sense of them. You whispered a small 'sorry', placing the apple back on the pile before walking away, your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides. You wove your way out of the crowd, whispering 'sorry' repeatedly at the briefest contact with people around you; your anxiety worsens, twisting your inside. You broke out in a slick sweat, and your body burned up even more as the embarrassment of freaking out in public quickly soaked in.

You walked faster once you got to the main street, almost broke into a run; your head worked in tandem with your pace as you tried to regain control of the situation. But it was like quicksand. The more you tried, the harder it was for you to steer yourself away from going deeper down the spiral. Your head hurt, your palms were clammy, and your entire body felt uncomfortable, as if your skin was only an intolerable costume.

Your lips parted as you took in huge gulps of cold air, passing familiar scenes that brought you so much joy just a few hours before until you saw a familiar sight. Matt's apartment. You took the flight upstairs two steps at a time until you reached his door. You rifled through the bag, pushing at the heads of green onion, the bundle of parsley, the blunt bodies of carrots and other things to find the key to his apartment. Unlocked, then locked again once you were inside. You put the keys on the table in the hallway and hung your coat up; only then did you see the dark crescent marks on your palms. If Matt was with you, he would slot his hands into yours so you wouldn't hurt yourself. But he couldn't be with you all the time.

Confronted with the familiarity of Matt's apartment, with the lack of strangers, your brain had almost nothing to overthink and grapple with, and the churn in your stomach relented. You poured yourself a glass of water and paid no mind to the droplets spilled on your cheeks as you downed the glass in one go. You put a hand over your heart, feeling its rhythm slow as you took several deep breaths. You looked at your watch to see that Matt should be back soon. So you rolled up your sleeves and got to work.

Your mind tuned out, allowing your body to go into autopilot as you prepared a dish you had made many times before without the items you missed. You thought about what happened earlier and repeatedly told yourself you were overreacting. Everything was fine. You had no reason to get nervous or freak out about it. But why did everything feel so terribly wrong? Was it the watchful eyes of the woman? The curious looks from bypassers directed right at you because you appeared flustered? Because you looked wrong and out of place by simply being there? You felt like everything was spiralling out of your reach. You felt the familiar stir in your stomach, the prickly heat ghosted over your skin, and you didn't want to give in to that for the second time that day.

You were carried away, so lost in your thoughts that you barely registered the soft click at the front door and the unmistakable sound of Matt's footsteps on the hardwood floor. Your lips curved into a small smile as you heard him putting his bag on the dining table, finally breaking into a soft laugh when his arms winded around your torso, enveloping you in a hug from behind. He placed a kiss on your temple before resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands splayed on either side of you as if he needed to feel as much of you as possible. You relaxed in his embrace, feeling better already.

"Hi."

His deep voice smoothed at your earlobe, drawing a breathless sigh from you.

"Hi."

"That smells delicious. How was your day?"

You thought of the answer before giving him a half-truth and halfhearted response.

"It was fine."

Matt stilled with a brief pause of realization before leaning forward into the peripheral of your vision. You avoided looking at him, removing yourself from him and picking up the spatula.

"Is everything okay?"

You responded with a noncommital hum and poured all your attention into the cooked vegetable as if it was the most important thing at that moment. Matt placed a hand on your shoulder blade, urging you to stop and look at him.

"Come with me."

You shook your head.

"I'm cooking. I don't want the food to burn."

With a swift movement, Matt reached over and turned the stove off, coaxing you to leave the spatula and the sizzling pot alone. You reluctantly obliged.

"Matt, I'm okay."

"Please, sweetheart."

His pleading tone softened your resolve, and you let him lead you to the living room. He lowered himself to the floor and beckoned you to join him. You sat beside him before fully reclining with a small distance in between. The coolness of the hardwood floor soothed your nerves. You closed your eye and took a moment to truly assess yourself. The residue of your anxiety was still there, tethering at the edge, waiting for the right moment to strike again. You squeezed your hand subconsciously and felt Matt's own holding you tenderly. The pads of his fingers settled over the crescent marks, caressing them. You smiled at his gentleness and pulled his arm to drape over your midriff. He understood your need, closing the distance between you by his elbow before slowly dropping his weight onto you. You felt the slow ease of his weight on you, anchoring you to the comfort of him like an anvil. His legs are on either side of you, caging you in, the hard floor dug into your back, yet you felt the furthest from being trapped. Instead, you felt grounded and present in the moment with him. The natural scent of his enveloped you, and you couldn't help but nose at his skin, taking a deep breath. Your overthinking ceased, allowing the memories of the anxiety break to stay in the past. Matt nuzzled his stubbled jaw into your cheek, pressing a kiss there before whispering.

"Do you want to listen to anything?"

You quickly shook your head.

"I'm okay. Just need you."

Content with your answer, he settled in more, his arms slightly raised, watchful of his weight on your body. You felt every breath, every deep sigh he took as your own, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat on your chest. You stayed like that in the quietude of his apartment, basking in his presence, feeling anxiety retreating from the shore of your consciousness slowly.

*Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!*

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onlyseokmins · 2 years

Text

fruit • h.j.s.

Pairing: joshua hong x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), established relationship, movie night but not really heh

Warnings: shua being a lil shit, reader being sassy, eating of food/fruit, mentions of cum eating (m&f), prolly sex myths idk, oral (fem. receiving), edging, fingering, uhhh WAP lmao lmk if i missed anything as always <3

WC: 1.9k

A/N: hiii, I'm trying to fill up my masterlist w/ all the members even tho I have a few sitting requests but thought Joshua would fit perfectly for this scenario when I was eating the other night 🤭 BUT ALSO THIS WAS HOT IMHO 😭

You’re nestled into Joshua’s side, the back of your head resting on his shoulder and his arm curled round you. It’s how you’re able to feel the chuckle rumbling in his chest that he’s trying to hide. A whine of complaint escapes your lips when you nearly drop the chunk of fruit you’re trying to eat because of his jostling. Plus, now you know he’s not even trying to pay attention to the flickering television screen in front of you because this is not a funny scene in the slightest.

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Nothing.”

“Joshua,” you sit up to face him with a pout, “this is my favorite movie!”

“I know, babe. We’ve watched it like three times in the past month.”

“Four.”

He nods compliantly at the correction, your dark grumbling unable to prevent him from masking a fond grin. “Yeah, yeah. And we’ll probably watch it a couple more times, huh?”

“If you didn’t want to watch it tonight, you should’ve told me.”

“It’s not that, like you said it’s your favorite.”

“Then – ”

“I just like watching you more. Especially when you enjoy something.”

Joshua’s smooth talk can’t fool you after all these years together even if all you can do is roll your eyes. Likewise, when his thumb reaches out to wipe the sticky smear of juice off your lips, you remain (mostly) unaffected and fix him with a pointed stare that he steadily ignores.

“Why were you laughing? This scene is a guaranteed tearjerker no matter how many times you see it.”

“If you wanted a good reason to cry, all you had to do was ask. I could’ve provided a much more riveting alternative.”

“Joshua.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighs, knowing you might smack him when he tells you what’s on his mind. “I just find it cute… that you’re eating… pineapple.”

“Oh my god.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Baby, all I’m saying is you taste just fine as it is.”

“You are such a pervert, Joshua Hong. Can’t I enjoy some fruit in peace? There are grapes in here too!”

“Grapes. Grapes are good. Ahhh – ”

You ignore the way he groans your name in protest when you scoot down to the other end of the couch, clutching your fruit bowl and glaring his way. “You act like everything I do in life is to sexually please you or something.”

“I mean you did – ” He’s cut off again when you (gently) kick at his shin before he brings up any shameful memories. “Okay, okay! It was you who just had to ask when we could’ve watched the movie in peace.”

“Hard to when you’re giggling like a little boy because I’m eating pineapple, of all things. You definitely weren’t watching it, anyways.” You shake your head before muttering under your breath. “And if anyone needs to eat pineapple, it’s you.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” you chirp back and purse your lips.

“Actually, I didn’t.” The living room gets much darker when Joshua shuts off the television, the only source of light now the lamp behind him that casts a shadow over his handsome features. “Wanna say it again, sweetheart?”

“I was watching that.”

“Brats don’t get to enjoy things when they act up, you know this.”

The shift in the atmosphere makes your skin tingle but surprisingly, the annoyance wins over. “You’re being an irritation.”

“I prefer ‘irresistible’ but I guess you don’t agree with me at all. Apparently.”

“So, you did hear me.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you really think I taste bad?”

You give him an incredulous look, deftly dodging away when his hand attempts to reach inside your fruit bowl. “Although I love you very much, you can’t expect me to say that semen tastes good. Even I know I don’t taste all that great, either.”

“You’re very wrong and we could prove that right here, right now. You know I can eat you out for hours.”

“I’m not that turned on,” you can’t help but point out even as he pouts. “But you’re welcome to change my mind since you ruined movie night.”

Joshua’s quick to act, the couch creaking with his movements to successfully pluck the bowl out of your grasp – this time without argument. “I don’t think I’m solely the one who ruined movie night, but I’ll take full responsibility for ruining you, baby.”

His hands pull down your night shorts and panties in one go, an eager finger running tentatively along your folds. His eyebrow raises while a smirk forms on his lips as you cover your face in embarrassment at how wetness instantly gushes from your cunt, your body reacting predictably. All because it’s him – mixed with the expected promise that he’ll make you feel good as expected.

He coos your name, and you feel loved and worshipped in this most pathetic way possible while he shifts his body down yours, hot breath warming the top of your bare thighs. Soft lips trail sloppy kisses across them as his hands part your legs so he can fit his head through. Finally, he’s merely inches away from where your fluttering hole betrays you, clenching at nothing as he gazes in contemplation before swiping his tongue along it.

You let out a moan at the feeling, fingers reaching out to grasp at his hair. Slightly pulling him closer so his nose brushes against your clit causes your hips to buck up against his awaiting mouth. He chuckles at your impatience but gives in, obviously – your alluring scent makes his eyes roll back in delight.

It’s sinful how his tongue swirls inside you, plush lips brushing against you in all the right places, hands keeping your legs spread as wide as possible and bringing you closer to him. The wet sounds filling the room are accompanied by his grunts of appreciation although everything else is drowned out by the blood roaring in your ears and the moans escaping your mouth.

Joshua never fails to surprise you with how fast he can bring you to a climax. You feel it creeping up your spine, body tensing as it threatens to hurtle towards release. Too bad he knows the signs extremely well because he suddenly pulls away and white noise fills your ears as the feeling excruciatingly fades out.

“Shua,” you whine. Hands blindly searching for him so he can finish the job, but he’s moved past your reach.

“Right here, baby.” A reassuring kiss is placed on your nose. “Shh, shh,” he whispers in your ear when you find him and wrap your arms around his neck, trying to bring his body down to yours to grind against. But he refuses to budge, biceps flexing as he holds himself firmly above you. “You’re doing so good for me. Look at you, already begging from just a tiny bit of pussy licking.”

Tears sting your eyes at the painful ache between your legs. You know he loves it, the offer of making you cry in desperation always on the table and even though you hate giving into his sadistic satisfaction, Joshua does good on his end at bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm – eventually.

He bends his neck down to kiss you, grinning at how he doesn’t have to run his tongue across your lips for access because your mouth is already open in acceptance. The taste of fruit you were eating earlier is replaced by the tangy flavor of your own cunt as Joshua’s tongue entangles with yours.

“See how sweet you are? How could I not get enough of this?” He licks his lips and eases the tip of a finger inside your warmth. “So. Fucking. Addictive.”

Each word is punctuated by an additional finger sliding and curling inside of you until you’re delightfully full. His thumb rubs at your clit but relief is short-lived when you tighten around him since he decides to leave you empty again.

You have tears streaming down your cheeks as you miserably watch him lick his fingers clean, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. Once more, he makes you taste yourself with an open-mouthed kiss.

“Please, Shua.”

“What do you want, baby? Wanna taste how delicious you are when you cum on my tongue?”

You’re furiously nodding, at this point agreeing to however he’ll let you reach your much desired release. “Yeah. Please, please, please!”

“Hands to yourself then.”

Your clothed chest is heaving from sobs of anguish as your nails dig into the leather couch. Joshua is cruel. When his head returns between your legs, large hands hold down your hips while he places featherlight smooches on your pelvis and inner thighs, an occasional kitten lick to your leaking pussy.

He’s letting your climax plateau. Almost there but not quite. One step away from taking the plunge but he refuses to help you there as his darkened eyes stare tauntingly into your teary ones. He adores when his sassy lover is whiny but obedient. Submissive but teasing. Especially when you begin to play with your perky nipples that rub against your shirt, trying so hard to urge your release to snap.

“What did I just say?”

“Keep my hands to myself. Which I am. They’re not on you.”

Shiny lips from your wetness turn downwards in a frown. Technically you’re not wrong but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Before you can get too carried away, he relents. Diving back down to suck harshly at your clit, plunging his long fingers deep into your cunt that would have had screaming in ecstasy if you weren’t already gasping at the searing orgasm that rips through you.

Your legs tighten in a headlock around him but it’s not like he’s complaining. Joshua’s mouth trades places with his fingers to lap at your delectable pussy that gushes from the powerful sensations, his own hips grinding down against the couch. Your quiet whimpers alert him of possible overstimulation and he places one last kiss against your thigh before cuddling your trembling body in his lap.

“You still with me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod and nuzzle his neck, “feels like I’m floating.”

He laughs, rubbing your back and waits for you to come back down to earth. By the time you do, your eyebrows furrow at the wetness on his jeans underneath that is definitely not from you.

“Did you…?”

“Yeah.”

“Really? I was gonna suck you off.” To say you’re beyond surprise would not be a lie because he usually has a tight leash around his control.

“Nah. I have to eat some pineapple first.”

“Joshua Hong!”

He snorts and kisses your forehead. “In all seriousness, that was just too hot to resist. Besides, I figured that would wear you out.”

“True. I think you sucked the life out of me, honestly.”

“Tasted like it,” he says while you grimace.

“Stop that. You’re disgusting.”

“But you liked it.”

“I… liked what you did, not what I tasted like. I think you’re delusional.”

“Delusional and in love with you, yes. Do I need to prove it again?”

You sigh, standing up. “No, because I’ll just believe you’re only pussy whipped. Now come on, let’s go shower and sleep.”

“Maybe I am. But I’m especially whipped for you first.” He follows you up the stairs before pausing in contemplation. “Hey, do you think the pineapple really works?”

“You better hope this shower doesn’t turn into a bath where I drown you,” you yell back, “so get your ass up here before I kick you out!”

#ez.creates #svt smut #seventeen smut #Joshua smut #joshua hong smut #kpop smut #svt.smut

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dreamersparacosm · 2 years

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smut prompt 34 with Austin, please!

why don’t we film it? - austin butler

note ; this prompt actually just sent me into cardiac arrest. new life goal: making a sex tape with austin butler 🙏

warnings ; oral (f receiving), suggestive language, talk of filming ur sex lmao (?)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

he had never needed anyone before the way he needed you. he was constantly craving your touch, to feel your nails rake down his back or tug on his hair ferociously. he was fully enamored by everything you did, and every night when you weren’t with him, he had a mental bank of every sexual experience you two had shared, and he tapped into it to make himself cum.

even that one winter morning, he couldn’t help but wake you up with his tongue splayed out across your cunt, lapping up your juices as if they were the fruits of life. you wiggled underneath him, and he firmly planted his hands on his hips to stop your resistance. “oh, aus, right there,” you moaned out, voice still raspy from your sleep.

he couldn’t stop himself; he was addicted to the feeling he got when he saw your face contort in pleasure, moaning his name over and over again as an orgasm washed over you. his fingers thrusted in and out of your entrance, tongue flicking at your clit relentlessly. you were so close, and he could tell by the way your eyes were squeezed tight, chest heaving and lips parted. your walls tightened around his digits, and he maintained his tempo, aching for your release.

a string of profanities fell from your lips, along with his name and other unholy things. he loved the way it sounded coming from your mouth, so filthy and raw. he watched intently as you unraveled in front of him, legs shaking. he could watch it forever.

he was struck with inspiration as he laid there, eyeing your body. there was one way he could have the view on replay. once you had finally stopped convulsing, he pulled himself up over your body, kissing you softly. “question, angel.”

“yes?” you breathed out, still exhausted from your orgasm.

“why don’t we film… it?” when you made no response, he elaborated. “…like our sex.”

your head swiveled to look up at him, trying to read his face for anything that resembled a joking manner. he was being very serious. “you’d want to do that?”

“yeah,” he nodded eagerly, fingers reaching out to brush the hair away from your face. “i mean, i always miss you when i’m away filming. and, it’d be nice to have something to look at.”

you weren’t sure if it was the orgasm talking, or the fact that your boyfriend looked at you like you hung the moon and stars, that made you succumb to his request, but you said: “yeah, let’s make a sex tape.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

thank you for joining my celly!

#anon #answered #angelina’s 3k extravaganza #austin butler #austin butler blurb #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut #austin butler angst #austin butler fanfic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader

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fandomfluffandfuck · 6 months

Text

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

I couldn't get blasphemy/religious kink out of my silly little head. It was haunting me, and so... have a little stucky drabble with Father Barnes and churchgoer Steve 😮‍💨 (the drabble that will absolutely have me going to hell if I weren't already destined, lmao)

A soft, breathy moan falls helplessly from Steve's parted lips. Ohhh. Pleasure curls in his gut, tight and hot--burning hot. Guilt simmers in his thick, hot blood. He shouldn't--

But, oh, fuck, how can something feel so good and be wrong? Steve isn't convinced heaven exists because, shit, something better than this? How? That doesn't sound possible.

Faith wavering, Steve swallows another obscene, much-too-loud-for-being-home-in-his-Ma's-apartment sound. His mouth is watering. He's trembling. His hands are trembling, and he can hardly keep a steady rhythm going, his fist slick and tight around the throbbing shaft of his cock. He can't even look at it--at what he's doing. He burns with embarrassment. He knows what it would look like. He's done this before. He can't resist. He can't stay away. It feels so good! The pleasure. The thick, long shape of his penis engorged with feverish blood. Even in his lust addled, instinctual brain, he knows it's unholy. It's obscene. Liquid weeps from the flushed, fat head, collecting around his circumcision scar before dripping down his shaft, getting caught on the plump veins, on the way down to his swollen balls.

Oh, fuck.

He thought he was over this!

Shit.

Fuck.

Steve burns hotter, pleasure and embarrassment curling tighter. Twinned. He can't help the thoughts. The swears. He can't help this--

He thought he was over the unstoppable, overwhelming, plaguing thoughts of Father Barnes. He thought it was a teenage awakening that would pass. Something to do with his hot, young blood. He thought--

God.

Steve hisses but can't do anything else. He doesn't mean to take the Lord's name in vein. He just, he just--

Fuck.

His thoughts got him into all this trouble. Why can't he resist his thoughts!? Overcome the struggle. He wanted. No. He didn't--he didn't want--

He didn't want--

He shouldn't've gone to church with his Ma on his break home from college. He really fucking shouldn't have. He shouldn't've known better. Temptation. He didn't need to. He could've claimed he attended worship before he left campus; he could've played hooky. But he didn't. Instead, he walked right up to the tree and took a bite of the first luscious piece of fruit he could find and sunk his teeth in, the sticky, sweet juice flowing in rivers down his chin. There was no need to wait a luring, tricking serpent, Steve did it all to himself.

Shit.

He's so weak. So, so weak.

Fuck it.

Steve gives in. He moans. Loud. All he can do is send a fleeting prayer to God that his Ma is still out and that he hasn't lost so much time in his indulgence that she's returned. He needs to be alone. He's sinking into his imagination. His filthy imagination is dripping so thick with sin that he can taste it in the back of his throat. It tastes like cinnamon and pure, flickering flames.

Using the arm that isn't engaged in shamefully pleasuring himself--he can't use that arm! He can't stop!--Steve throws it over his eyes, his nose nestled in the crook of his elbow. And again, he can't help but moan. With his eyes shut, images just as vivid in the beautiful stained glass windows of the church flash beneath his lids.

Father Barnes is towering over him after communion. The crowds of believers are gone. The congregation has disappeared entirely, so it is just them alone in the nave. Father Barnes' cassock is tight around his thick throat but flows over his broad shoulders and down his solid chest. Steve wants to touch him. His palms are sweaty, pressed together, and his fingers curl together. Hands resting in his lap. He can't touch.

He wouldn't dare.

Steve is kneeling at the steps to the stage, before the pulpit, as if he's eagerly awaiting the next sermon.

He's kneeling, hands folded for prayer. And Father Barnes is standing above him. The excess wine from communion sloshes in a goblet in one of his large hands. Rich. Dark. Sweet. Father blesses him, and one of his hands, large and square with blunt nails, tangle in Steve's golden hair, using it like a handle to pull his head back, commanding him to open his mouth.

Steve obeys. He is nothing if not a willing servant of the Lord. He will serve Father Barnes.

Father pours and pours and pours.

In his imagination, the taste of wine explodes over Steve's tastebuds, filling his throat and making his head spin. Intoxicating. He will not choke. He swallows and swallows and gurgles his thanks to Father--to the Lord.

He could weep in pleasure. Steve squeezes himself unforgivingly hard. Gasping.

Ah!

Wine overflows thickly, sweetly out of his gaped mouth, over his lips, down his chin, off his jaw, and spills onto his bare chest. His nipples are hard. Tight. His chest heaves, fighting to breath--fighting to accept it and not choke. Still, the stream of communion wine does not stop. Steve drinks all of it. All the blood. He is blessed. Eager to be blessed. He will take it all inside of him, and he will be blessed.

Please.

Father Barnes holds tightly to his golden hair, forcing him to take the last drops of wine--staining his pale, freckled flesh like blood. The only thing Steve has seen Father Barnes cling to so tightly is his rosary or his beloved annotated copy of the Bible. He is clinging to Steve tightly. Holding him in place. Steve feels holy. He glows from the inside out with the light of Heaven.

Swallowing.

Steve shivers so hard, picturing himself kneeling at the mercy of Father Barnes, that he shakes himself from the first fantasy and into the next, jerking himself hard, tight, rough, moaning louder still.

Fuck.

Shit.

He jerks himself wildly. Hard. Rough. The sounds are wet and filthy and unmistakable. Obviously sinful. Erotic.

Fuuuuck.

Fuck.

Steve's no longer kneeling. Instead, he has been thrown over one of the pews. He is still bared before Father Barnes. Father Barnes stands behind him, his hands hot, like brands, over his shoulders and back and hips. Steve's cock twitches. He feels the closest to God that he ever has.

The wet fap fap fap of his fist around his cock becomes something even more shameful and deviant in his fantasies--his eyes shut tighter--

Oh, oh!

Father Barnes' thick, long fingers are delving deep into him, wet and stretching him out, forcing his way into his body. No one else has. Steve doesn't--he doesn't really know. But. It, it's all he wanted since all of this sin first awoke in him. He knows--he might not know, but he knows it would be good.

So good.

Father Barnes would take care of him.

Steve knows it would be so good that he can't stop making sounds. In his room and in his fantasy. Breathing heavily. Moaning. Groaning. Gasping. Whimpering. White-knuckling the pew, pressing back to the intimate press of his fingers. Crying. He doesn't know what he's feeling. He just knows that it is not of Earth. It is Heavenly. It is bright white. Brilliant. Fire is inside him. Heaven and the flames of Hell warring.

Oh!

Ah!

Fuck!

The sounds Steve can't help but make are so, so, soooh loud that he can picture the beautiful, elegant, stained glass windows shattering. He burns in shame, knowing that this is the worst thing these ancient, sacred walls have heard. He is mortified, but it feels too good to plead for it to stop. The lush sin is too tempting. He's too weak. He's--he's soft. He's soft-willed. He's not soft.

Fuuck.

Steve twists his wrist and fucks his hips up into his fist. It feels incredible. He squeezes. He rocks his hips. He rolls his throbbing balls in his hand.

He's so hard.

He can't imagine the pressure, the pleasure of his swollen, engorged dick against the cold, polished line of the wooden pew. He can't imagine the untamed, unholy pleasure of Father Barnes' fingers working inside him. Cooing at him, voice smooth and low, to be patient and take what he is given and no more, whenever he presses his ass back. Needing more.

More.

With the heightening pleasure, the image shifts, melting into something new. Something hotter. If possible.

Father Barnes' voice is the first thing to come to Steve. He purrs to Steve that he is a lamb, his plush, shapely lips brushing the shell of Steve's ear. Goosebumps appear all over Steve's flesh.

He shudders. He nods.

Father is right.

He is but one sheep in the flock, needing direction, foolish, and in need of a protector. A sweet, little lamb. A lost lamb. Father will show him the way. He will show him suffering and prevailing. He will show him faith.

Steve believes in him.

He believes desperately, and he opens his eyes in the fantasy, suddenly finding himself in the church, at the center of the stage. He is the sermon. The center of attention. He is displayed. Arms spread apart. Legs hanging long and tied together at the ankle.

Oh.

Steve moans raggedly, the sound grating against his throat. Eager and perverse.

Fuck.

He is--

He is displayed, strung up on the cross. Bared head to toe. No way to hide. Shame burns through him like hell. How is it so sweet, then?

Father Barnes has made him into the next sacrifice. A lamb on the alter. A body on the cross. The taste of wine is thick in his mouth. It drips from his lips. His fingertips are stained. His head is lulled back. He can not see straight. All he can feel is Heaven. Pleasure.

Pleasure.

He has never felt anything so divine.

Steve convulses as if possessed on his squeaky, twin bed from his childhood. Fantasizing about sinful, horrible things that pollute his mind. He can't. He can't!

He's so, so close that it's painful.

Father's hands caress him. Dragging boldly down shoulders, over his expanding and contracting ribs, onto his abs, past his hips, and to his lega--bypassing his mortifyingly hard penis without comment. It throbs so hard that jerks.

Steve squirms and writhes and shakes into the next perverse imagine to overtake him like a demon crawling into his body.

This time, it's not rich, sweet wine in his mouth, dancing on his tongue. It's metallic, it's, it's--

Steve's teeth rattle, choking, clenching down on the taste of Father Barnes' rosary, stuffed into his mouth to muffle his cries while his thick, hot, throbbing cock shoves itself into his hole. Using him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Steve can't catch his breath. He has never been so full in his life. He has never felt more purpose. This is what he is for. Serving his purpose. Worship has never been so good.

Sweet, little lamb, Father purrs. A sign from God, you are. An offering. Precious. Lamb. Meant to follow. Meant to serve, weren't you?

Steve whines through his nose, gnawing at his bottom lip until the taste of copper floods his mouth. He moans openly then. Shaking. Trembling as if the Holy Spirit has taken him, moving through him.

The filth takes more shape, he isn't kneeling to pray, he isn't bent over a pew, he isn't displayed as a sacrifice on the cross, he is braced shakily against the wooden pulpit, facing out to where the pews would fill with the members of the congregation. Father is behind him. Thrusting into him like he wants to break him. Like he wants to tear him apart.

My boyyy, Father Barnes' lips and teeth graze his throat, so close to his wildly thundering pulse.

The rosary slips from Steve's mouth, just a bit, only for Father to correct his mistake. Forgiving. Groaning and stuffing it back where it belongs in his mouth. Steve is drooling. He's whimpering. He's gasping. He's aching. So hard. His cock keeps hitting the pulpit with how forcefully he's being fucked.

He moans, and the rosary and all its beautiful, delicate beads tumble out from his swollen mouth, covered in saliva and ruining the pages of the open Bible. The ink runs and spreads. Father! Steve cries. Father Barnes, Father, oh, oh--

OH, GOD!

Steve takes the Lord's name in vain and spirals with hot, thick shame at the same time that he is taken by pleasure. White, hot pleasure. Swelling inside him, violent and holy and impossible. An orgasm. A sinful, brilliant orgasm with the taste of metal and wine and flesh on his tongue.

Father growls over his shoulder, shoving into him once last time as he presses his face unkindly against the wet rosary and ruined Bible and spills into him. Steve silently pants, pages of the Bible sticking to his cheek. The wet ink is going to leave scripture printed across his pale, flushed skin.

Jesus Christ.

Back in his body, lying in his bed in a pool of sweat, Steve murmurs a prayer reflexively. Psalm 32:1. Forgiveness. Guilt swirls inside him. It burns as he catches his breath. The mess of his sin is sticky and getting tacky on his skin. There's a wine stain on his cheeks. Blushing. He needs to clean up before Ma gets home. He needs to clean up before his imagination swallows him again with Devilish ideas, and he's sucked back in. He wants to sob in sweet pleasure and awful humiliation at the thought of confessing to anyone what he's done. He pictures the open shock on Father Barnes' face if he did confess and...

Oh, God.

Steve almost orgasms again.

#fandomfluffandfuck #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #uhhhhhhh #I'm sorry and not sorry for this lol #Spotify #ALSO #the song JESUSCHRIST SUPERSTAR by Black Swan F U C K S with blasphemy kink

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bonefall · 11 months

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how would the clan treat someone with fatigue issues? Would they be allowed to do less heavy work and stay in camp more (asking as someone who has fatigue issues and wishes they didn’t have to work so hard all the time)

Of course! There are many things that must be done around camp that better fit a cat who is unable to do strenuous work. Fatigue issues, severe epilepsy, motor control problems, paralysis...

Like Briarlight for example. She's loved. Of course they're going to find something for her to do, that's both rewarding for her and helpful for the entire Clan.

Common courses of action:

Kitchen patrol.

Easy one. A lot of this is just tedious, like skinning prey, controlling fire temperature, stirring the pot so it all cooks evenly. Funny enough ThunderClan needs the most help with this because they like to smoke their meat for hours, and periodically applying fruit juice so it doesn't dry out is important.

Crafting and Weaving

This is more situational because you don't HAVE to craft materials every day, but a cat with fatigue issues could get really good at this and be the first choice for processing a thing. This one may not fit a dyspraxic cat though.

Leather in particular can be pretty intensive if, for some reason, the cats don't want to construct a small tanning rack out of 4 sticks (maybe they don't want to poke holes in the pelt). It has to be continuously stretched for a few hours as new tannins are applied, else the skin hardens. Having a dude sit there stretching could be helpful.

And weaving, of course. In-canon weaving is waaaay too easy, realistically tanning leather would be a simpler task. This takes forever and it would be very useful to have The Tie Guy who's good at weaving walls, nests, and roofs.

Minnow Drying

Someone literally just needs to watch minnows dry and make sure no corvids take them. This is the easiest job a person could do. This is like, if you can't do this, the Clan’s legally allowed to bellow "YOU HAD ONE JOB" tier stuff. This is Nightheart level task failure.

Someone once put in the tags that the Clan cat equivalent of "watching paint dry" is "watching minnows dry" and it's been BB!Canon in my head since then LMAO

#clan culture #better bones au

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synthetickitsune · 2 years

Text

California Dreamin' | Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez | [s]

A/N: This whole thing is inspired by the marvelous Hotel California fanfic by @mint-yooxgi and the subsequent headcanons about this au (most of all these) - go read it! It's literally so good and fun and it just sticks inside your head. I've been in my ATZ brainrot era since reading that fic, just... read it and love it 😭 Besides this is a fanfic of that fanfic so yeah, all the necessary context is there lol. And also the character y/n is thinking about is Woven from the webdrama Handmade Love, because I've seen too many memes of Seonghwa looking like Soohyuk's son and Woven makes clothes just like Hwa does in the fanfic so yeah lmao. Summary: Living with eight very attractive men would be a dream if they weren't creatures of hell holding you captive against your will. Frustrated in more ways than one, you decide to take a risk and test the self-control of a certain demon. [Seonghwa centric] Word count: 7.5k Warnings: suggestive, mental voyeurism(?), mentions of masturbation and sex

If your recent experiences taught you anything, it was to be careful what you wish for. Sometimes, more rarely as you grew older and before your life’s become an absolute mess, when your primal desires were a little out of hand, you craved something spicy. Something, as embarrassing and ironic as it is, supernatural. A lover who could go all night without tiring and who would worship your body, please as you wished for - give you pleasure so great you’d trade your soul for it.

Thinking back on it, you almost wanted to cry and smack yourself for being so stupid.

Because it turns out that living trapped with a bunch of exactly those, well, creatures, for the lack of better word, is not exactly as great as you imagined.

Not that it was all that terrible either, they took care of you. You couldn’t complain about boredom, hunger, thirst - they kept you entertained, they fed you the most delicious of meals… You just missed your freedom. And privacy.

Privacy most of all.

That they kept constantly reading your mind was bad enough on its own, but it’s been a while since you’ve had some alone time, and you’re living with eight very attractive men. Your mind wants to wander. How could it, though, when they’d know all about it? And they don’t make it any easier either.

It’d be a herculean task to count the number of times you’ve caught San walking around shirtless or that he’s suddenly appeared in the pool with you, too close for comfort just to see you jump and justify the hug he’d give you as comforting you. Wooyoung turned out to be a pretty passionate dancer in his spare time, you’ve discovered, but everytime you wanted to watch him the dances would get progressively more suggestive until you had to excuse yourself. While others usually found their way to you, Hongjoong you’d look for down at the lobby. It was almost a habit. But whenever you’d be waiting at the desk, your elbows resting on the smooth surface, he’d appear behind you, his hand brushing low, like low, on your back as he apologized for keeping you waiting. Yunho and Mingi? You’d open a door you’d swear led to the library but no, there was a gym now instead and well, seeing two sweaty men, their muscles and veins pumped, looking at you with hooded eyes made you close the door, and your legs, very quick before your mind could betray you. Yeosang and Jongho on the other hand were pretty lowkey, probably the only ones you were confident keeping your head in check around. Safe for the occasions you needed to get something from a higher spot and Yeosang would roll up his sleeves, exposing muscles you would not guess he has and stretch up to get whatever you needed before handing it to you with a smirk tugging at his lips, or whenever Jongho nonchalantly decided to eat fruit around you, splitting it in half with his strength alone, the sweet juices dripping down his hands…

And then there was Seonghwa, who was a menace in his own way, but you couldn’t quite get the little incident that happened during the fitting of your dress for that damned dinner out of your head. They say that the firsts are always the hardest to forget. You tried your best to stay out of his way, but it was near impossible since he, like all of them, could appear out of thin air. He was the most frustrating to be around since you’ve already felt his hands on your waist, your hips, felt his breath on your neck… and that was a problem.

A big problem as all of them could read your mind and had no decency of leaving even the dirtiest of your thoughts alone. They knew you were attracted to them, and you knew they knew. But you were not about to give in. You’d been scared that they’d do whatever they want with you at first, but they made it pretty clear that consent was key for them. In everything but living together apparently. Because that was just a little tiny thing, not like a huge deal. Whatever. Anyway, they’ve reassured you an ungodly amount of times that they won’t do anything you don’t want. And so far they’ve kept that promise. You’ve seen them desire you, seen their eyes turn dark with lust and heard the growls in their chest as they fought against that desire, and you’ve seen them worried about you, caught a rare smitten gaze before you blinked and it was gone too. You wouldn’t call it trust, but it came pretty close.

So now that you step in the shower, feeling frustrated and honestly the most horny you’ve ever felt in your life, you think fuck it. Let’s test it - let’s test them. See if they really do have enough self-control to keep their promise when the only thing separating them from the thing they want most in the world is a couple of flimsy doors. And you know what? Let’s personally attack the one person who’s shown you the least amount of self-control - that’s probably what your brain’s decided. After all, there is a perfect fantasy you’ve dreamed up a long time before you’ve met them, one that you think might ruffle the feathers of a certain demon or whatever they claim to be.

-x-

I don’t care, I can satisfy her better than she can. Mingi growls as he teleports right in front of your door. In a second there’s seven pairs of arms pulling him back while keeping each other in check as well.

No, we have an agreement. Just wait until she calls for us herself and it’ll be that much sweeter. Yunho tries to calm him, as well as the rest of them.

Maybe she'd accept if we offered our services right now… Wooyoung argues back.

We'd just be taking advantage of the situation. Let's show her we can wait and she'll be ours soon enough. Seonghwa growls as he pulls a very eager San and Jongho back from the door.

You're the one to talk. Yeosang scoffs, elbowing Seonghwa who got just a little too far forward himself.

You're acting like a pack of animals. No wonder she doesn't trust us. Hongjoong finally speaks up, effectively shutting down the conversation. They all frown, none of them wants to accept the fact that you’d probably still prefer to leave the hotel and get as far away from them as possible instead of staying with them and becoming truly and properly theirs.

In the silence that settled over them they can hear much better and their minds can’t focus on anything but you. The image of you, aroused and naked with water cascading down your body does little to calm them down, especially since they can hear your sinful thoughts. They need to collectively take a few steps back, no one trusting anyone not to go wild. Besides as your thoughts spiral deeper into the lustful territory, it's harder and harder for them to hold back and so they teleport into another free room. They each check that everyone is there, growling at whoever makes a move or so much as thinks about surprising you in the shower.

“We’ve agreed to give her some privacy. She needs to see we respect her,” Hongjoong reminds them, aloud, since they’re far enough for their voices not to disturb your activities. He’s trying to be the voice of reason, although given the chance he’d be more than willing to fulfill your every wish himself. There seems to be agreement on what he said, even if all of them think that it’s unfair. You must be so lonely and needy, and they’d do a better job of pleasing you than you ever could. If only you’d let them… but no.

Was anyone to walk past the room, they might’ve as well thought there’s a pack of wolves inside. There’s insanity on their faces, in their minds, as rage licks at their souls. Not only do you push them away when you clearly need some release, but you dare imagine another man? Their chests vibrate with growls and snarls as they try their best to stay calm and rational enough to not consider their chances against their brothers. And then suddenly, slowly, their rage begins mixing with confusion.

They can’t see the face of the man in your imagination, but from the back… there’s something suspicious and as much as they’re raging, they’re a little intrigued. Because the man’s figure is walking through a workshop filled with fabrics, mannequins, dresses in all stages of being done, tools familiar to one of them especially. From the back, the black slightly wavy hair is familiar, even the length seems to be about right. What’s not right, however, are the other details they can pinpoint. The man’s shoulders are wider, more muscles on his bones. He’s a little taller too.

If this is going where I think it’s going, I don’t know whether to piss myself laughing first or strangle you first. Wooyoung interrupts the scene, the smirk on his face hinting on the former, while the jealous fire in his fire implies the latter. The others shoot him a glare, Seonghwa’s eye burning holes into him in particular even as the remaining seven boys turn their attention to him.

He can’t help but feel hopeful. He knows you’ve been trying to avoid him, nervous around him the most after what’s transpired in his tailor shop. But he also knows you’ve desired him all the more for it, because unlike his brothers he’s given you something real. Something you can refer to. You know what his touch feels like, you know how tenderly he can hold you and how his lips feel on your skin. Who else but him should you dream of? There are differences, he knows. The slight physical discrepancies, the walk of this person is different from his own, but that might just do with your preferences. He could change for you, if so you wished. The others are of course not as optimistic as Seonghwa is, because as much progress as it would be to have you imagine one of them during such an intimate moment, they wish it’d rather be them.

They don’t get to escalate the situation, however, as your mental image shifts and the man is taking his clothes off, what’s more important - and interesting - however, is you. You’re lying on your back, sprawled on a table that seems to have been cleared in a hurry, the floor littered with fabrics and threads. You’re naked, but the point of view does not provide them with anything to see of your body that’s lower than your shoulders, except for your bare arms that find their way to the man’s shoulders and hair. The growls buzz in their chests like swarms of angry bees. They can’t watch, some of them would swear it physically pains them to see you like that, even if it’s just a dream - a wishful thinking, but before they can take their minds off you, they hear it - the one sound that will haunt them for days and nights, all the way until they make you theirs. Just as they want to close their minds to your fantasies, they hear the sweetest moan escape your lips, but it’s all wrong. You should be calling their name. But no, the last thing they see and hear is you moaning a name that sounds like a curse aimed at them, moaning it with a voice filled with desire. They will never erase that damned name. Not until they get to hear you chanting their names like the sweetest song.

-x-

“Well… at least the dude’s not human,” Yeosang breaks the tense silence. Of course the first thing they’ve done after they calmed down enough to be sure they’re not going to destroy half of the hotel in blind rage was to find out who this guy you were imagining is. Turns out he’s some stupid drama character. While reassured he’s not really real, the madness lingers in their minds. You’re theirs. And they are not ones to share with anyone.

“No, but he’s a god. That’s as far from us as you can get,” San barks back sarcastically. If only it was literally any other supernatural being then maybe he’d consider it a good sign that creatures not of your world are not off the table.

“Are we really gonna ignore the elephant in the room?” Wooyoung sneers and Seonghwa is already bracing himself, calculating the fastest way to cross the room and slam the younger male into a wall, “If our dear brother here was a little more buff and older, they could be brothers. Even have the same damn hobby.” He enjoys the way the eldest fumes, his lips curling in a threatening snarl.

“No, he’s right. I mean, squint a little and you can see the resemblance,” Mingi shrugs, supporting Wooyoung because of course he would. Over the course of his long long life Seonghwa’s gotten quite used to being the butt of their jokes, only it was never quite as serious as now.

“Must be terrible - so close, yet so far,” Yunho jumps in on the opportunity, voice laced in mock sympathy. Seonghwa pushes himself off the wall, ready to remind them that while they may forget it, the truth is he is older and stronger than them, but Hongjoong stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Cut it off,” he orders, not really in the best state for dealing with his sour mood and this bunch of idiots wreaking havoc too, “We heard her thoughts, she’s still angry with us. I bet she did this just to spite us without thinking much about it.”

“Hongjoong’s right, it’s probably not that deep,” Jongho murmurs. He just wants to forget the whole thing and move on. He’d much rather get back to the library already, hoping to catch you there and maybe persuading you to chat with him a little.

“Let’s just keep our girl happy so next time she invites one of us,” Seonghwa spits at them, considers for a second actually spitting in some of their faces, but that’s beneath him, so he leaves the room and slams the door behind him instead. He really doesn’t wanna see his brothers any longer. You, on the other hand, he needs to have a word with. Urgently.

-x-

“Yes?” you feign innocence and try to stop your heart from beating its way out of your ribcage as you’re pushed, albeit with utmost care, against the door as soon as you step out of your room. Now is really not the time to get flustered, especially not with a certain demonic presence staring at you like you’re a piece of meat. His eyes are black at the corners and his chest is heaving. At least you can say that you’ve tested his patience and self-control enough. If you survive this unharmed and not traumatized, you’ll know you can trust their words about respecting your decision to give or not give consent.

“What was that supposed to mean, pretty thing?” Seonghwa asks, his voice calmer than you’d expect as he lowers his head to your eye level. His hands are on both sides of your head. You’re trapped, yet you can feel your body trembling more with excitement than fear, but you’re not in a state to unpack that so you push it back from your mind. You really don’t need him to know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug, sticking to your clueless image, “You seem worked up, did something happen?” Maybe fake concern would help, and well, you wouldn’t be totally wrong - Seonghwa does feel his heart jump a little when you ask him that. What he wouldn’t give to have you care about him, yet he knows it’s just another way to tease him and he’s in a bad enough mood already.

“Do you think you’re being funny?” he growls, bringing his face closer to yours and smirking when he feels your breathing quicken and your eyes lower briefly before you compose yourself. He basks in the effect he has on you. If only for a few seconds.

“I really have no idea what’s your point,” you say with as much smugness as you can muster which is not much but hey, better than none, “But it’d seem to me someone was sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

There’s a deep rumble in his chest that makes you briefly reconsider your choices, especially as his head drops lower and you feel him nosing along the column of your neck. It reminds you so much of the incident in his shop that the memory pops up in your mind and you feel him smirk against your skin, so of course you push your luck and when you look up in the memory, the face you see is not Seonghwa’s, but one of your favorite drama god. He reels away from you as if he was burned. His eyes are black, but you’d swear there was a spark of hurt in them. If you thought he was angry before, he’s raging now. How dare you?! Imagining a scenario is one thing, but replacing him? You’re lucky he’s so addicted to you, otherwise he’d be tearing you apart already.

You see his fury, so you up your game, of course. You imagine Seonghwa’s own tailor shop as the place of your dirty fantasies. It’s his table your being fucked on, it’s a dress that he’s created that’s being ripped to pieces. But it’s not him who gets to touch you, mark you up, who gets to bury himself into you. And watching him as you imagine all that, you suppose you’ll soon burn in a flash of hellfire. His jaw is clenched so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if his teeth cracked. Before the consequences of your own actions can bite you in the ass - literally? - however, his brother comes to your rescue.

“Seonghwa, I think this is enough,” Yeosang steps between the two of you, jerking his head to the side to make you move. And you do, but not before flashing him a thankful smile that honestly almost turns his legs into jelly. Seonghwa on the other hand, hisses, agitated more than he remembers ever being - and that’s a feat considering the company he’s lived with his entire life. Yeosang stands his ground though, pushing him back to prevent his older brother from following you. He’s uncomfortable too, he hates seeing your fantasies starring another man, but what’s honestly more uncomfortable is the things Seonghwa imagines he’ll do to you once he gets his hands on you.

You leave them both behind, oblivious to what’s going on in their heads, figuring they’ll maybe bicker a little, worst case scenario some punches will be thrown, but still Yeosang will definitely handle the situation better than you would. It crosses your mind that maybe you could use all this to separate Seonghwa from the rest, make him a target for their teasing - because seeing just how jealous they are, you’re sure they’d pick on whoever was the least favorite - and maybe it’d make escaping possible, but you don’t let that thought linger. It’d be too cruel to make anyone the outsider, even without the possible danger of him taking a revenge on you.

-x-

“I don’t know, man,” Hongjoong shrugs without any attempt at hiding the malicious smirk on his lips, “Serves you right for that stunt you pulled when she wasn’t even ours yet.” A growl resonates in Seonghwa’s chest. To bring up the happiest memory of his lifetime right now is a low blow even for Hongjoong. Maybe it was a mistake to come to vent to him. Clearly he won’t get any consolation anywhere in this place.

“It’s not like it’s not pissing you off too,” he snarls, knowing well that his brothers didn’t like seeing you with another man either. Even if it was just all in your head. The issue, however, was that none of them was as affected as he was. You even imagined yourself being railed at a workplace of his expertise and his own fucking tailor shop. Your goal was clear and he’d be lying if he said that a small part of him was not upset and that he didn’t have a brief thought of just telling you outright that he’ll tone down his affection towards you if you just never do this to him again. He wasn’t sure he’d manage to do that, but it’s not happening anyway.

“No, it’s not like that,” the younger male agrees, “But seeing you so worked up over it is kinda worth it. I have to give it to our darling, it’s smart to attack you so personally.” He smirks, watching Seonghwa run a hand through his hair with so much force it’s a wonder he doesn’t rip any of it out of head. Sure, as he said, he hates seeing your imagination conjure up images of another man, touching you, marking you as his when you’re theirs, he hates it with passion. But at least he can comfort himself with the thought that you’re doing this just to mess with Seonghwa and he and the rest of them are just innocent victims caught in the fallout. Not that it helps with the urge to go on a killing spree just to blow off some steam, because he’s going just as crazy as everyone in the hotel. He’s just better at hiding it and staying calm.

“We’ll see about that when you mess up and she starts doing this to you,” Seonghwa growls again, using the slight height difference to his advantage as he invades Hongjoong’s personal space and towers over him.

“Well, then it’s enough if I just don’t mess up. Unlike someone I can control my urges,” he scoffs, unintimidated. He’s a little disappointed if he’s honest. He always thought he could rely on Hwa, but apparently everyone really does make mistakes. Not to mention the other male also wasn’t exactly supportive when he was stabbed. Hongjoong feels a little petty, but really he’s just on edge because of the punishment they were all going through just because of Seonghwa.

“Why are you all like this?! You know how shitty it feels, but imagine how it must feel for me,” the man in question slams his hand on the nearest surface even if it means stepping away from his brother. Not like he wants to be anywhere near him anymore anyway.

“Don’t think any of us forgave you for what you did,” Hongjoong snarls right back at him, his blood boiling just thinking about the older male’s lips on your skin, “We had an agreement, Seonghwa.”

He can’t take it anymore. The love of his life would prefer the company of another man - not even one of his brothers’ on top of that! - and the only other people he has, ones he thought he could rely on, all seem to be set on giving him shit for one little misstep. He storms out of Hongjoong’s room without looking back at him.

Everyone seems to enjoy watching him be miserable. Fine then, he’ll show you all. But right now he feels his hunger getting stronger, he should probably consume more suitable nutrition than human food. He’s gonna find some unfortunate soul to feed off and think about his next steps. He needs to show you that two can play this game, he’d say he needs to take revenge but that sounds so… brutal, and you, despite everything, are still his precious princess. He only wants to cherish you, to serve you, to please you, to belong to you. He needs to show you that, he needs to make you believe it and make you realize how unfairly and cruelly you’re treating him right now.

-x-

You think you might have miscalculated.

Ever since Seonghwa cornered you and you were saved or whatever by Yeosang, you haven’t seen him. While Yeosang has assured you that nothing happened and it was alright, you wondered whether he was really honest with you. After all, you’ve seen all of them every day. Every day, without fail, each of them would find their way to you, usually to spend some one on one time.

All of them except for Seonghwa.

It’s been two days, which, sure, wasn’t that long of a time, and you haven’t even thought about it the first day, but today on day three without seeing Seonghwa at all you were kind of paranoid. What was going on? Was he planning to sneak up on you suddenly and take his revenge? Was this some kind of plot to make you lose your mind? Did Yeosang hurt him? There was uneasiness in your stomach, a sinking feeling of guilt, that you supposed was connected to the other weird thing.

Your dreams.

The last three nights Seonghwa haunted your dreams in the most delicious way possible. You wondered whether it was your own fault for teasing him, whether your mind got confused and tried to make things right in your sleep. Either way, you didn’t sleep well. You kept waking up sweaty and worked up throughout the night, needing a cold, cold shower. Not that you weren’t interested in what Seonghwa could do with his tongue, you just didn’t want to imagine it or dream about it surrounded by entities that could easily read your mind. At least in this aspect you were glad that Seonghwa either avoided you or couldn’t see you because you weren’t sure how you’d be able to look him in the eye.

You wouldn’t call it missing him, but it came pretty close.

Before all this mess, you've gotten the tiniest bit closer to them and if you were honest with yourself, which you really didn't want to be, you've learned to appreciate different sides of them. Like Hongjoong seemed to be the most controlled and took your side if you became overwhelmed with everyone's attention, Yunho who never failed to cheer you up and make you laugh even if you tried to resist, Yeosang who somehow seemed very innocent and was by far the most respectful of your wishes, someone you could talk to and feel at relative ease, San and his cooking and playful nature - the same for Wooyoung who kept you from dying from boredom. Mingi was a great conversational partner to have over a drink and Jongho always listened to you so intently and was easy to spend time with in comfortable silence. Your situation wasn't ideal, and you were still a little afraid of them, but they weren't bad people. Seonghwa too.

Seonghwa had this aura around him that calmed you somewhat. Not to mention it was nice to hangout with him in his shop because he listened to your input and the clothes he made were always perfect and considerate of what you told him. While he was annoying too, possessive and overly touchy just like the others, without him it was starting to become… unbalanced? Like there was something missing, the harmony was broken. Thinking about it as you wandered through the hotel, you began feeling lost and let your feet take you anywhere.

-x-

For Seonghwa these past days were torturous. To watch you from far, not being able to get close to you… not that he couldn't, he just didn’t want to - well, no that he didn’t want to, it was just all part of his plan. But it felt so much like the hopeless days before they lured you here that he was losing his mind. And his dear brothers didn’t help one bit. He swears they were all over you just to rub it in his face that he’s not desired - which, obviously, wasn’t the case. He knew, they knew, and he knew they knew and that they were jealous of the effect the dreams he planted into your mind had on you.

Each night of his absence he played with your dreams, planting into your mind sweet, delicious scenarios of desire and sex. And you reacted to them, much better than he expected to be honest. At first he worried, secretly, that you’d find them disgusting. He might’ve just been hurt by your messing with him more than he’d realized. But that wasn't the case. No, he watched you from the shadows, from the mirrors and reflective glass, and he saw. He saw you the state you woke up in, your skin glistening with sweat and your lips bitten raw. He saw the frustration when the dream ended before you could properly enjoy it. He watched the awkward, embarrassed walk you did to the bathroom and he had to stifle the growling in his chest and remove himself from your vicinity when he realized what you were doing in the shower.

You didn’t continue the dream where it left off. You weren’t imagining him, but for now it was enough for him to know that you were interested and that he had this effect on you. He could’ve ended this game after the first night, his curiosity satisfied and ego fed, however, he was feeling petty. And hurt. So he’d torture himself further on the off chance you’d do something interesting in his ‘absence’. He wants you to beg for him to come back. Hell, ask the others for all he cares - just show him that you care about him. That you’re sorry.

And this might just be it. He’s been lurking around, trailing behind you in the shadow, away from your sight when he’s noticed your blank stare. He got worried. Not only did it look like you were in some type of trance, your mind was blank too, your thoughts unfocused and unstable, disappearing as soon as they came to be. He’s thinking so much he doesn’t notice where it is that you’re going without properly realizing.

But when he does, he swears he starts shaking.

-x-

You only stop and wake up from your stupor when you stand in front of a glass door. You’re confused as to where you are, but only for a second because you do recognize this place.

It’s Seonghwa’s tailor shop.

You frown, looking around as if someone has led you there but you’re alone. And it’s pretty obvious why you’re here.

You’re looking for him.

You feel slightly nervous as you open the door and step in. Somehow it seems like he should just appear out of nowhere, jump out from wherever he’s hiding to scare you. Or maybe just naturally walk out like he’s done so many times and greet you with his enamored smile and warm voice.

But he doesn’t.

Silence greets you and fills the entire space even as you walk further in. Your steps resonate on the luxurious floor and you feel afraid. You rub your arms for warmth, even though it’s not cold in the shop. It just feels that way without Seonghwa around. The place seems dead, empty and bare even with all the fabrics, dresses and all sorts of garments lying about. It’s just as neat as you remember too. Maybe if there was chaos you’d feel better, like you saw some evidence of him… what? Living? Oh please…

Your eyes scan the room and you do eventually find something out of place. There’s a jacket you’ve seen Seonghwa wear a few times lying on the desk. Someone must’ve thrown it there, pretty haphazardly too.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa watches with bated breath as you walk around and he panics when he notices the jacket and your eyes falling upon it. He prides himself on keeping his workspace clean, on being tidy, but when he came back from feeding, he wasn’t in the right state of mind and he must’ve left the thing there. What will you think of him now? He already feels pretty sensitive and anxious watching you walk around his dominion - do you even know how crazy you make him? Crazy with worry, with love, with desire… You’ll be his ruin.

What he doesn’t expect, and frankly neither do you, is you sitting down on the chair at the table. You reach out and run your hand over the fabric of the jacket. You remember when you slapped his arm after he made an extremely suggestive flirty comment and you smile. He smiles too, his heart fluttering in his chest. See? You have nice memories with him. You were laughing then, you were happy. Let him make you happy again.

You carefully take the jacket into your hands and pull it closer to you. Your heartbeat picks up the pace. You don’t know what you’re doing but it feels right. Maybe you should listen to your heart instead of your head for once.

You lean down and bury your face into the fabric. You breathe in. The jacket still smells like his perfume, like him. It’s nice. It’s… well, not comforting, but the balance that has been disturbed by Seonghwa’s sudden disappearance feels restored, if only for a fraction of a second. It makes the corners of your lips curl up.

While you seem very happy taking in his scent, he can’t breathe. He has to shut down the mental link with the others because he won’t let their complaining taint this precious moment. He steps out of the shadows, he lets the light fall upon him again. You could see him if you just turned your head, but you don’t. Don’t mind if he takes advantage of such an opportunity.

His movements are quiet as he stops right besides you and reaches out his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He feels electricity hum in the tips of his fingers as he touches you, finally, after starving for the feeling of your skin for days.

You get startled, understandably, and jump from the chair, standing with your back against the table and turning your head towards the hand and you gape at him when you see him. Seonghwa. He’s there. Right in front of you. He’s real, you know it’s not another dream or your imagination as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, cooing softly at your scared and shocked face.

So many emotions hit you right in the face upon seeing him. Surprise, fear, annoyance, but also relief and a certain kind of fondness, or something akin to it. And embarrassment, the memories of your dreams flooding your mind.

“Not so cocky now, are we, my love?” he smirks. He doesn’t stop himself from using the nickname. He’s earned it. He was so patient, he deprived himself of you for days, he deserves to call you something nice. Only now that he’s touched you he wants more. Especially after seeing the blood rushing to your cheeks as you remember all the things he’d love to do to you. It makes him smug like nothing else could.

You don’t have the time to dwell on the embarrassment, though, there’ll be enough time for that later - now there’s anger rising in you that burns more prominently than shame. You have half a mind to weaponize your imagination again. Maybe you should. You allow yourself a brief flash of the image of you in the arms of what is probably Seonghwa’s nemesis at this point. He snarls, trapping you between his body and the table, hands on either side of your hips but not touching you, merely keeping you in place.

But oh does he want to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, so alluring. Your sweet scent makes his head spin. Your skin would feel so soft and smooth and perfect under his palms. He’s going insane trying to hold himself back when every single one of his cells screams to press himself closer to you, right against you to soak up your warmth and to envelop you in his arms and his scent, to mark you as his and claim you for himself. He’d show off to the rest, prove that he’s the eldest and the best of them, that he’s perfect for you, so much so that you’ve given your trust to him first.

“It’s not about being cocky, Seonghwa,” you say and he’s taken aback by the venom in your voice, it’s a very sharp contrast to the work of his imagination, “It’s about basic decency.” He just frowns, confused, so you continue.

“It’s decency not to snoop in someone’s mind all the fucking time, and it’s decency not to just disappear after being confronted by a fucking demon,” you growl at him, not backing down even as he leans closer to you, a playful grin on his face. He’s ecstatic. Why does it sound so much like you were worried about him?

“I think you’re forgetting that me and Yeosang, we’re the same. Although I do appreciate the sentiment,” he purrs. It’s so adorable. If only you could be cute like that all the time, but then again he likes a kitten that draws its claws from time to time. The incident with Hongjoong and the knife comes to mind and fuck, he loved that.

“And I’d think it’s also decency to be loyal, isn’t it? Hm?” he tilts his head, his smirk mocking and it makes you swallow the lump growing in your throat, “You couldn’t even do that. First thinking about some loser, and then when you got bored of him your dreams turned to me? Pick one and stick with that choice, sweetie. And if it was up to me, I’d pick the real thing, just saying.” As he continues speaking, his voice gets lower, just as his head does until he’s resting his chin on your shoulder. His body is so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him. He leans his head against yours.

“Someone who can hold you, who wants to care for you,” he says, his breathing fanning over the bare skin on your neck, goosebumps rising there as a result, “Someone who would do anything for you.” He raises his hand, gently, experimentally, placing it on your waist. You’re right there, in his hold. Under him. If only you’d say the word, he’d give you all the pleasure you could ask for. He’d be so generous, so selfless. He’d treat you like the royalty you are, like you deserve to be treated.

And you struggle to fight back the image of the dream as much as he does. You’ve seen him take you on this very table, in a very similar position. You remember how he touched you then. It all started with his hand on your waist too. He pushed you down, his tongue exploring your mouth as he held you still, his hold firm but oh so caring, his thumb stroking under your shirt as his other hand pushed it up… You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it the least bit appealing. But not now.

“Someone who will leave because he gets butthurt and jealous of a fictional character?” you whisper, lips almost directly next to his ear. You feel his body tense. “You might want to work on your anger management, before you can have more than pretty dreams, Seonghwa.” You slide your hand over his that’s on your waist and up his forearm. You can feel the shiver that runs through his body.

“I don’t think you quite deserve what you want, do you?” you murmur as you carefully remove his hand from you. It’s a miracle that your voice doesn’t shake or break because you feel scared shitless under all those layers of fake confidence. Fortunately Seonghwa’s reactions fuel your acting. Perhaps you can trust them on that consent thing. You’ve seen that they’d bend over backwards to get you what you want. Perhaps you hold more power over them than you realize.

He doesn’t try to stop you as you lay his hand back on the table. He’s pliant under your touch and it’s almost cute. He leans back so he could look into your eyes and you miss his warmth.

“I didn’t leave. I was always right here,” he murmurs in his defense. You think he’d leave? You must be out of your mind just like he is. “I told you, we all told you, haven’t we? We only want to cherish you, to protect you. How could I do that if I left, silly thing?” His eyes are honest, his voice dripping in honey and you think this is the softest you’ve ever seen him. You can’t say you dislike the look on him.

“You’d find a way. Besides what better way to spite me than running free somewhere out in the world while I’m stuck here?” you argue back. It feels strange, and not in an entirely pleasant way. The tension is still high, it just shifted from the red hot tension of passion and lust to a mellow tension of emotions and intimacy. What else to call it? He’s so close you can feel his breath on your skin and you can see all the details and color shifts in his eyes. He’s being so open with you, and you find yourself peeking from behind the walls you’ve built too. It’s not comfortable, yet you can’t back away. It’s addictive, the way it feels like you’re taming a wild beast. But who is really the one doing the taming?

“My love, if you want to see the outside world, all you need to do is tell us,” his eyes narrow when you want to yell at him. You’ve been saying you want out of here since day one! “We can take you on a trip to the outside. Understand, you’re too precious for us, we can’t lose you - we made that plenty clear. But that doesn’t mean we want you to suffer. We want to please you, care for you.” He seems satisfied when you don’t try to interrupt him again, even if he doesn’t like the way you’re scowling at him and doubting his words.

“It’s all about trust,” he explains, smiling softly as an idea enters his mind, “We need to trust you to take you outside, just like you need to trust us to be comfortable here and among us.” You blush at his words, looking away briefly. “We wouldn’t hurt you, darling. I wouldn’t, and I think I’ve proved that enough, haven’t I?”

You nod, reluctantly. You guess that since he hasn’t harmed you or anything when you were literally fucking another guy in your mind right in front of him, he won’t do anything to you for other reasons either. At least since you won’t have any access to other real men any time soon if ever. Well except…

“You’re really testing my patience, love,” he growls, black swirling in his eyes as your mind wanders to what would happen were you to romance one of the others.

The others would explain it to me… You think and you know you’re not being exactly fair, because the others would react the exact way he does, but what’s a little more teasing when he’s already this worked up. He scoffs, then smirks.

“You might want to work on your relationships, before you can have more than pretty dreams, y/n,” he feeds you your own line with a victorious grin. It looks ridiculously good on him.

“Touché,” you give it to him with a sigh. Comfortable silence falls between the two of you. He seems happy enough to watch you, drink you in. You will never know how much it pained him to stay back. To watch his brothers spend time with you all the while listening to their ecstatic discoveries and progresses. Never again.

He raises his hand to your face, his fingers gently caressing your jaw and neck. You let him, because it feels nice or because he seems so excited and grateful to be allowed to do so, you have no idea.

“I won’t ever make you feel like I left again,” he promises quietly, his eyes meeting yours. He needs you to know he means it.

“You better. I was getting worried I’d run out of new clothes to wear,” you tease, uneasy at the prospect of accepting his words as seriously as he’d probably wish.

“Why don’t you ask your favorite tailor then, hm?” he hisses through his gritted teeth, even if he meant to sound lighthearted, disinterested.

“True, I should, his clothes were bet-” you shut up quickly, seeing his body tensing again and the murderous look in his eyes. “Remember what I said about anger management?”

“Remember what I’ve done to you on this table? Over that one? Against that wall?” he recollects your dreams, nodding his head towards each mentioned location.

“Dream on, Seonghwa.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #yandere ateez #yandere!au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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toomuchracket · 8 months

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i’m baking banana bread!! 🤩🤩 (in my head i’m making it for my boyfriend birthday partyverse!matty)

stop this is so sweet!! also i have not had banana bread in the longest time. i should really rectify that. anyway! i think even before you and matty are a Thing you're like "i am extremely jealous of your kitchen wtf mine in my flat is so tiny lol", and matty's just incredibly simpy and obsessed with the idea of you just kicking about his house so he's like "use it anytime!! even when i'm on tour. i will literally give you a spare key"; you're like "omg no i appreciate that a lot but i don't want to intrude", but whenever it's your turn to host your friend group's Every Other Month dinner party, you do end up using matty's house as the venue simply because you can't fit everyone in your flat lmao. and matty always goes a little bit insane when he sees you take plates out of the cupboard without a second thought as to where they are, just thinking about how comfortable you are in his space and how well you know it, letting his brain wander into daydreams that both of those things are because you live with him and fall asleep in his arms every night. delulu king. but back to the banana bread - one of the mornings after you have actually fallen asleep in his arms because you live in the house too, matty gently kisses your head and whispers "sweetheart, i'm just going to take mayhem for a walk, yeah? but you go back to sleep, baby, i know you're tired. we won't be long", and you're like "mhmm love you" and matty laughs quietly and says "god, you're so cute. i love you too" before he leaves. and as sleepy as you are (matty, um, kept you up for some time last night), you can't drift back off without your boyfriend there; you toss and turn for a few minutes, before you pull yourself out of bed and grab one of matty's jumpers and your glasses, go and wash your face and brush your teeth, then head downstairs. as you make your way to the fridge for some juice, you notice the bananas in the fruit bowl are starting to ripen a bit too much, and you're like "hmmm. i'm going to make banana bread". so you do! you grab all your ingredients and assemble it, and it's quite lovely doing it with the sunshine streaming through the windows and the radio on. anyway, the bread is in the oven (so you KNOW the whole house smells good) and you're putting the mixing bowl and all your equipment into the sink when you hear the front door open and close and paws scrambling over concrete; a few seconds later, mayhem bounds into the kitchen and starts nuzzling at your legs so you'll pet him, followed a few seconds later by matty, who probably wants to do the same thing. you coo "hi, my baby!" at mayhem, scratching his ears until he gets bored and goes off to the living room, and then you coo "hi, my other baby!" at matty, who laughs and kisses you sweetly. he's like "thought you were going back to sleep, sweetheart", and you're like "that's too hard when you're not next to me" - matty gives you a shit-eating grin and goes "awwwwwwwww. simp", and you roll your eyes like "pot, kettle", and he laughs again like "true" before saying "you're making banana bread? smells amazing". and you're like "mhmm. just something sweet for my sweet one", and matty blushes then says "oi, that's my line! you're the sweet one, i'm the big strong boyfriend lol"; like any sane person would, you take the opportunity to feel up matty's biceps at that point like "i mean yeah. but you're also very sweet to me. and i love it", and matty kisses your hair like "i love YOU. loved how sweet you were for me last night, too. will you do it again for me, darling?", and you kiss him like "once the banana bread's out of the oven and we've had a little bit - cos i'm starving - i'm all yours". very cute but also very flirty <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #into the birthday partyverse

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captainnameless · 4 months

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Okay, so I was watching the video with receiving an award, I think the Bruce mclaren award. And he said he was getting teeth out. How would little oscar be after the surgery? I feel like he would be very clingy with everyone. Also, who would be he "adult", I can't seem to find who it was.

i didn’t understand half of this ask lmao but i saved it till today cause i got my second set of wisdom teeth out so i could truly emerge.

i feel like maybe Oscar would wanna get them done in Australia, i don’t know how health care works for these drivers but oh well. we’re gonna go with that. so Daniel’s the easy choice then.

Oscar’s too shy to actually ask for any care, so that’s why he’s just been parading it around and telling anyone and everyone that he’s getting them out and Daniel finds out.

Daniel offers to pick him up from the hospital, Oscar declines twice but agrees on the third ask, secretly happy Daniel continued asking.

Oscar’s a little unsteady getting out of the car, his right hand clutching an icepack to his jaw while the other presses into the side of the car, Daniel loops around and wraps an arm around Oscar’s waist, carefully guiding him inside. He’s made sure the curtains are mostly drawn so it isn’t too bright, prepared for the headache Oscar might have because of the anesthesia and the nap he might want to take.

Daniel props him up nice and comfy on the couch, feeds him little sips of pineapple juice from a straw cause that’ll help the swelling. He’s also bought one of those head wraps that hold the cold packs so Oscar doesn’t strain his arm.

He halfs Oscar’s pain medication so it’s easier to swallow and rewards him with soft praise and fruit pouches.

Still a little loopy from the medication Oscar’s less shy about affection and cuddles into Daniel’s chest with the unaffected side of his face, passing out 2 minutes into Daniel scratching his fingers through Oscar’s hair.

#littlef1adventures #its me i had a headache and needed a nap and fruit pouches #send me your cuddles

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hemeruni · 6 months

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Can you tell me about your headcanons about hemera and uni? Im curious :]

YEAYEAH I’D LOVE TOO!! Hold on let me get the notebook outtt-

Let’s start from the top!

(Just to not flood things, click the more button under this message to read all of these, enjoy the ride!)

Hemmy Headcanons!

(I think the only one I revealed publicly?) She’s transfeminine!

Hem usually wears her gloves for as long as she possibly can before taking them off. It’s basically second nature to see her wearing them, even if she hasn’t participated in anything botany related.

Hem dislikes waking up late, but she barely gets any sleep in the first place. As long as she gets up at the right time, sleep isn’t 'necessary.'

Here’s a basic one… she’s very soft to the touch, but her fur is usually stained with the juices of plants and whatnot.

This is actually an official one! But I just want to share it… Hem’s favorite snack is fruit snacks! (The gummy candy I believe, or just fruit! Both works!)

My headcanon voice for her is Gaige from Borderlands 2! It’s weird but I think it works.

Sadly I don’t have any Uni headcanons that I can list off the top of my head… BUT I can give you the next best thing! Hemeruni headcanons!!

Hemeruni Headcanons

When these two hang out, they never really SEE it as a 'date' or whatever it’s supposed to be labeled. If that phrase DOES get brought up, things get awkward real quick lmao.

Since these two are basically insomniacs, they usually hangout during those late night hours, which usually either consists of some late night planting… or late night GAMING!! (Hem is usually the one that falls asleep first.)

Uni is usually the one that sets up these interactions, but sometimes those plans go against what Hemera believes is right, but with the help of some convincing and a quick round of Puppycorn 'eyes,' Hem usually caves and goes along with it.

Hem asked and received permission to grow carrots in the GreenRoom! She’s the one providing Uni with her carrots! :3

Hemmy doesn’t really like being open about this relationship, knowing the consequences of what could happen if this WAS found out. The only public display of affection that Hem would show off because of this would just be hand-holding.

These two are heavily touch-starved, yet they don’t know how to display that, lmao.

Uni taught Hemera how to paint!

There’s probably more, but that’s all I have for now! Sorry if this sounds weird, or just contains many spelling mistakes… I wrote this at 1 AM LMAO.

Thanks for the ask!

#ask answered #sparklecare #sparklecare hospital #hemera philly #uni cornelius #hemeruni #qpr #headcanons #ask to tag

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jiubilant · 8 months

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@wispstalk tagged me to share some lines from my posted pieces! plus some exclusive commentary. thanks ray and kudos for making it up the sisyphean hill of filling out yours entirely on your phone

tagging @zurin @ghoulsbeard @morihaus if you want :)

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

“Ravila,” says Tolfdir wearily, “when we cast a spell, we do not precede it with the words hold and my and drink.” [x]

plus the later "lettie, he's drinking my schnapps." lmao. i enjoy writing ravi the most when he's happily going along with something that makes him look silly

A line from your fic that makes you sad

Then he looks at the Dragonborn—whose name, he thinks with sudden shame, he hasn’t asked. She’s not looking at him. She’s staring out at the empty air, the white and whirling wind, with a shadow struggling in her face. “I’d like to live a thousand years,” she admits. Then she touches her scarred arm and smiles at him, sunlit and serene, like a statue of herself. [x]

ayo's got a lot on her mind :(

A line from your fic you’re proud of

The ground of Apocrypha, spongy and stinking of mold, is the mulch of a thousand libraries: rotting parchment, pages sodden and trodden to peat. The Dragonborn, her throat raw with the thu’um, squelches through it. She steps over the bloated carcass of a book. [x]

apocrypha's got to be just disgusting. slurping slurry of stolen knowledge-goop underfoot

A line from your fic you think could have been better

“You’ll like Solitude,” says the woman every pickpocket in Plankside calls Auntie. She’s stirring this and that into a steaming stovetop stew, pausing every so often to towel her brow with the hem of her apron. “And my brother. Though he’ll not long let you at your usual tricks, mark me.” [x]

"stovetop" has haunted me for years. what the hell was i talking about. the year is 189 and everyone's cooking over their hearthfire

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

You could split your lip on Lenhardt Müller, whether you were careful or not.

had to go into my wips for this one...no one get excited about me cheating on tes with other video games because i don't think i'll finish this piece. it was going to be about else's post-credits affair with [PARCHMENT-SCRAPING NOISES]

A line from your fic that makes you go ‘aww’

“Don’t say it.” Aina frowns at him. “It’s you.” The furrier grimaces at that—and his wife laughs, surprising him, the sound raspy and warm as the hearthfire crackling inside. “You,” she says again, suddenly serious, and kneels to throw her cloak around his shoulders. Their noses touch. The lantern winks at their knees, mingling their shadows in the snow. “Always you, to me.” [x]

i've got to write more about these two

A line from your fic that’s full of symbolism

“You’ll not like it,” she says to the boy, because she’d better say something reassuring. He looks like he knows what a slice of apple means. She digs her claws—all she’s got—into the fruit. “Not with a sword. Not with a bow. Not with your teeth.” She wrenches the apple in half. It’s a mangled mess, now, bleeding juice all over her hands. “But it needs doing. Name like that—you’re a shepherd’s son, en’t you?” Jorik, she notes, is turning greenish again. Alas. “Aye—” The footsoldier, still busy with the apple, forestalls him with a claw. Then she holds out a dripping slice of fruit, scored all over, despite her best efforts, with oozy scars. [x]

all she's got :(

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

They rein their horses aside to let the cohort pass. A soldier near the head of the line—a Tojay standard-bearer, perhaps their age, with an open, clever face—casts a curious glance back at them as her fellows, fresh-faced and bright-mailed, nudge her in the opposite direction. [x]

surely we've never met that young footsoldier before

A line from your fic that’s shocking

“Well, now, cat,” he says, the thu’um rumbling like a rockslide in his voice. There’s grief and fire in his face. Almost gently, as if to ask the soldier for a dance, he walks to her across the darkening hall. “Do you think your sword will send me hence?” The soldier shrinks from him. Then, her eyes baleful as the moons, she bares a mouthful of red teeth. “Not my sword,” she says, and leaps like fire to meet him. [x]

like any soldier shurri uses every weapon at her disposal during the war. something sad and complicated to be said about what her preferred nickname ("shiv") says about how she sees herself

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

“Is that his name?” asks the Archmage. “Quaranir. Quaranir. What’s that old Colovy song?” To Nerien’s dismay, he grins, lifts his chin like a primadonna, and starts singing in a high, frail tenor. “Ah, il tempo si ferma quando sono con te—” Nerien tries not to look pained. “Archmage—” “Il tempo si ferma, e penso, povero me—” [x]

"time stops when i'm with you"…i was and am happy that this joke passed muster with my italian followers. i don't speak the language well anymore but i'd like to get back in the swing of it; i have family in messina that i'd like to meet in-person someday

#this was fun

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strawhatsoraya · 11 months

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a brief note: this is purely self indulgent. kaia and i talk about luffy (and ace and sabo honestly) being islanders and in particular we have a headcanon of luffy being a country hick from puerto rico and she's been asking me for drabbles since 5ever and i haven't delivered so she gets one today because it's the least she deserves. this will be a very sporadic series. and i have so many different variations of this in my head who knows what i'll write next so. that being said lmao keep it scrolling if you're not interested. i just wanted an excuse to make a banner on canva.

featuring: (as per banner above it's luffy &&) island girl y/n. rating: rated G for g-spot--i'm kidding, it's PG. it's all good. don't be scared. word count: idk around 500. warning content: none, unless you're allergic to Spanish or culture in general.

001. Luffy

Country boy Luffy who grew up in the mountainous side of the island. He didn't have a mother or father to sing him to sleep. Instead, brown little tree frogs performed their iconic lullaby outside his window; coquí, coquí, coquí. It's a harmony so deeply ingrained in his mind that he didn't even perceive it until Garp's voice would break through the den den mushi asking him: “What's all that noise?”

As if he didn't know.

As if he had forgotten all his memories on the island.

Luffy. A Boricua, through and through. He is his most comfortable surrounded by the heat of the sun. His skin, sun kissed and tawny brown, was always covered in bug bites and scratches. He knew better than to challenge the mosquitos' hunger during their peak hunting hours but his pride was on the line. Luffy would turn it into a compliment instead. 'I'm just that sweet,' he'd tell anyone who challenged him to wear insect repellent. 'They just can't keep off of me.' At the mention of his scratches and bruises he'd shrug with a secret grin clinging to his lips. 'Tu sabe',' he'd start, dragging his syllables, his tongue heavy on his tongue as he barely pronounced his consonants. 'I was just messin' around. No big deal.'

The forest was his playground. He knew every tree, and every creek. He knew where to find the best earthworms for fishing, and where the river was the most shallow to cross. He knew that the nearest dairy farm was in the way of his shortest route to the swimming hole, and knew he'd be chased if he trespassed but did it anyway. He knew each bull that chased him, and knew every stray dog in the neighborhood.

He knew the neighborhood drunkard, and the lady who sold frozen cups of fruit juice out of her home for a few coins a cup. He knew the best way to eat them too—flipped upside down in the cup, while sitting on a hammock, not a care in the world.

There was so much he knew then, and so much he was unsure of as well.

He knew how Doña Edith's stewed kidney beans tasted but he couldn't picture the world past the view of the horizon; a melting sun sinking into a watercolor ocean. He knew what his abuelo wanted him to be, and yet all Luffy knew was that he wanted to be free.

A vague longing propelled him from the island he called home. He had no regrets. The friends he had made on the way filled even the empty spots he wasn't aware existed. Luffy finally felt like he was alive. He no longer had to seek out truths under mossy rocks, or atop mango trees—although he did miss the mangos.

The truths he sought were right there on the smiles of his nakama staring back at him. He couldn't ask for more, and yet you joined their ranks. He was happy to have met you, hearing your story and knowing you came from the same island as him. There was so much he wanted to talk to you about, that he would speak at you quickly, his hands in the air at all times, gesturing and helping him articulate.

You matched his energy, and it excited him.

There was still so much he didn't know, but he knew by the twinkle in your eyes that new fun adventures were bound to come.

He could barely wait.

#one piece hcs #monkey d luffy headcanon #luffy headcanons #luffy x y/n #op: islanders hcs au #&&. sora&kaia take on the world

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cats-of-eden-valley · 3 months

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Bat anon is back with more weird, niche questions! Since I've hit a bit of a roadblock with my own writing, I was curious, how did you decide what non-feline traits to give to the prides? They're really amazing designs and wonderful worldbuilding, so it caught my eye!

Anyway, on today's episode of "Bat anon's sleep-deprived-brain questions", can the prides make any form of pottery/that kinda stuff? Considering there seems to be plenty of rivers in the Valley, it could be plausible.

Okay last question, I promise, do the prides make alcohol of any kind? Like, I know their society is primitive, but things like fermented fruit juices or mead are surprisingly easy to make if you have the things you need. Or like, imagine the outsiders have some form of alcohol and when Lotus joins the prides, they bring not only societal change, but also booze. It's a funny idea that's been I'm my head all day lmao.

What prompted this question, you ask? I fell down a rabbit hole of easy-to-make alcohol while researching for my own xenomoggy (yes, I am giving my children alcohol. they deserve it after all I've put them through lmao)

Also, I'm glad my questions didn't come off as obnoxious! And don't worry, you'll see me around plenty! I'm like a fae - you invited me into your home, and you'll not be rid of me any time soon! (/j)

Once again, no pressure to answer if you don't wanna! Feel free to tell me if my questions start to get annoying, I don't want to come off as pushy or rude.

Hope you have a beautiful rest of your day/night, and I pray the writing gods bless you with plenty of motivation!

-🦇

The non-feline traits are hard ngl (especially when I realize I. Have to draw them.) but mostly came from the thought of, okay, what would look cool AND theoretically aid their survival and support their niche within the valley

So you get Goldspring, who (used to) work together to get bigger, more dangerous prey. Armoured scaling, epsecially across the chest, not only adds weight (stronger cats, and heavier bodies to escape from) but protection as well

Coldbank are p obvious, they can fully swim with their tails and they are Quite Fast

Bogden hunt on the dark side of the Valley, where the cliff casts a shadow and makes it colder and darker, so i threw some owl in there (and weasel, when i get back to drawing them)

Windswept I went round and round on. I'd originally thought kangaroos but in the end I decided it departed too much from the Cat Body Plan, so I changed it to hare, with a sprinkling of vulture

Lotus and Petra took a bit to settle on as well, but i very much am happy with the feathers. I'll have to have a think about where a lineage like that came from

and then any other outsiders I have more freedom to just wing it, though I do know about some of the small populations that live outside of Eden, like the mountain cats

Yes to pottery, big yes! Pottery is seen in Bogden and Coldbank, less so in Goldspring (who prefer weaving) but they still trade for it. Windswept like being able to pick up and go, so you almost never see pottery there

ALCOHOL i mean!! man I haven't thought about it (I've thought more about plants that they might smoke, which granted isn't much either fjfj)

Honestly I'd have to do research but if there was justifiable means and desire/usage/purpose I'd def incorporate it at least somewhere

Maybe...Maybe mountain cat booze...

#ALSO the question of 'who came up with alcohol and who's perpetuating it' comes into play because of a relatively small population #every time i invent something for coev i have to be like 'okay but like who are the guys doing this. who is practicing and #building this skill'#AND THEN it also needs to be passed on!#which is high risk in this society #very easy to accidentally lose a guy who knows stuff so important stuff has to be known by many guys #beams autism directly into your soul with these tags #worldbuilding #xenomoggy #coev: setting

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

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Uninvited

Jax Teller & Platonic!OFC (Diedra Lowman)

Inspired by Day 16 of the August Prompts: watermelon

Warnings: language, alcohol, my favorite low-stakes rivalry

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I feel like these two are just destined to be the characters I go to for any fruit-based prompts because I definitely used them for cherry for the July Prompts last year lmao. I just enjoy writing these two annoying the life out of each other. Enjoy! xo

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @masterlistforimagines @espieviolet99 @mijop @chibsytelford @thanossexual @bruxasolta @i-just-read-stuff @be-my-dear @bport76 @withmyteeth @unicornucopia-fuckers @buckybarneshairpullingkink @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @paintballkid711 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0 @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @xeniarocks @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @beardsanddetectives @i-love-scott-mccall @toni9 @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to my taglist, please let me know!)

Summer meant that the typical Sunday dinners at Gemma’s started to take on a bit of a different look. SAMCRO barbeques on quiet weekends made for some of the best nights of the summer. It was just the club and family, a lot less chaos than when everyone got together at the clubhouse. There was still plenty of drinking, a lot of good food, and the opportunity to feel a little farther away from the chaos of it all. For the most part, club drama didn’t make it past Gemma’s property line.

“Juice show up yet?” Jax walked into the house, a case of beer in each hand.

Gemma shook her head, “No, I think he’s still at the store with the girls.”

“Both of ‘em?”

Gemma paused her motions, looking over at Jax with a curious look, “I assumed so. Why? Something happen with him and Kota?”

“No. I just didn’t know if Diedra was gonna show up.”

Gemma immediately eased, chuckling as she got back to getting food prepped, “You’re gonna have to work harder if you wanna scare her away, sweetheart. She’s Happy’s kid—her tolerance is pretty high.”

He let out a shocked laugh, “I’m not trying to do anything. She’s the one who doesn’t like any—”

“She doesn’t like you,” Gemma cut him off, correcting him with a knowing smile, “She’s got no problem with anyone else right now.”

“Right now,” Jax mumbled.

“It’s ‘right now’ for all of us, isn’t it?”

His sigh turned into a small laugh, “I guess.”

She waved him out of the kitchen and towards the door that led to the back yard, “Go put those in the coolers. I’ll let you know when they get here so you can help them carry everything in.”

It wasn’t too much later when Gemma heard the sound of Diedra’s car pulling into the driveway. She peaked out the window just to be sure, but it was only moments before she saw both of the Lowman girls, and Juice, all getting out of the car and starting to grab the grocery bags filled with snacks and other miscellaneous supplies.

Wiping her hands off, she walked over to the back door, opening it and sticking her head out just enough to find Jax. She called out to him, “You’re up, Jax. Leave Tig alone on the grill and come make yourself useful.”

There was a smile on his face as he shook his head, making his way across the yard and back into the house. Gemma patted him gently on the back as he made his way towards the front door. He was pulling it open just as Dakota went to push it from the other side, almost causing her to topple and fall completely onto him.

“Shit,” Jax carefully caught her by the arm, “Sorry.”

Dakota laughed, huffing out a breath to get a stray lock of hair out of her face, “All good! You can make up for it by going and grabbing the last of the bags from the car.”

He chuckled as he slipped past her, “You got it.”

He and Juice exchanged a nod in greeting as they walked by each other. He had a couple bags hanging off of each arm, and when Jax’s gaze finally made it to Diedra’s car, he saw that she was about to do the same thing just to avoid having to make another trip back out to the car. He saw the way she was trying to calculate how to carry all of the bags, as well as the few things they’d gotten that wouldn’t fit in the little reusable grocery bags Gemma had sent them off with.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

She looked over at him, shrugging as she contemplated her answer, “Don’t know, think you’re strong enough to help me with a couple of these?”

“I think I can handle some grocery bags, yea.”

“Alright,” she nodded, looking over the things that she had left in her trunk. She was very particular about the two that she chose and handed over to him. He was getting ready to reach and grab another one when Diedra tossed the watermelon to him, “Think fast.”

“Jesus Christ,” he managed to catch it before it fell to the ground, but he couldn’t not shake his head at her, “Seriously, Di?”

“What?” she laughed as she looped her fingers through the loops of the last couple bags and shut the trunk of her car, “You caught it—it’s all good.”

“Right,” he rolled his eyes as he watched her quickly make her way up the steps of Gemma’s house.

He was only a couple steps behind Diedra, both of them landing in the kitchen to set their bags down. Gemma looked through the bags quickly, figuring out which ones needed to stay in the kitchen, and what ones could be brought right to the back yard and unpacked there.

Gemma was handing off bags to them to take outside when she pulled Diedra in for a quick hug, “Thanks for picking all this stuff up, sweetheart. Really appreciate it.”

Diedra smiled, nodding, “No problem, Gem. Whatever you need. Besides,” she nodded towards the back door that Juice and her sister had just gone through, “Made Juice Box over there do most of the heavy lifting. Let him feel extra important.”

Gemma laughed, “That’s very nice of you,” she handed a bag to her, “Bring this out there for me?”

She nodded, “Yea, you got it.”

Diedra was out the door when Gemma turned back to Jax, who was still shaking his head at the young woman who’d just left. Gemma couldn’t help but to mirror his gesture. The two of them looked at each other from across the small island in her kitchen, and Gemma was waiting patiently for Jax to make whatever comment he was smart enough not to make to Diedra’s face.

“I don’t get how her and her sister are related—Kota’s so nice.”

“Di’s nice too, when she wants to be.”

Jax raised his eyebrows, “No wonder you two get along so well.”

Gemma pointed her knife at him, “Better watch it when I’ve got so many weapons so close,” she laughed as Jax held his hands up in mock surrender. Motioning to the watermelon that Diedra had tossed at him not too long before, she said, “Wanna take that out back for me? I’ll put the rest of this stuff away.”

Jax made his way out into the back yard to see that Juice and Kota had already gotten most of the snacks and everything set up. Diedra was grabbing beers for the three of them when Jax came over to the table they were standing at, carefully setting down the one item Gemma had asked him to take care off. He found himself standing next to Diedra, each of them looking at the other waiting for them to say something.

“Oh, Juice,” Dakota rested one hand on the outside of his arm, “could you run into the house and grab a knife that we can slice that with, please?”

Ever since he met her, there had never been a time that Juice would ever tell Dakota no. He nodded, and was already about to take a step back towards the house but Diedra motioned for him to stay put. “Don’t bother,” she took a swig of her beer, “I got it.”

All three of them looked at her, wondering what she was going to do next. Dakota half expected Diedra to just pull a knife out of her boot to slice the thing with. But, instead of doing that, Diedra reached across the front of Jax’s waist, the close contact making his eyes go wide for a moment as he tried to figure out what she was doing. Even one-handed, she easily undid the snap of the sheath for Jax’s knife that was always hanging off his hip. Before he could think to move and stop her, she pulled it out and sliced right into the fruit on the table in front of them. Juice was trying to stifle his laughter just for the sake of Jax’s ego, but Dakota didn’t share the same reservation as she laughed at the entire scene that had just unfolded. Jax looked dumbfounded as Diedra maneuvered the blade with ease even with just one hand, the other still wrapped around the neck of her beer bottle.

“Really, Di?” Jax shook his head as he snatched the blade back from her, “Couldn’t use your own?”

She shrugged, “I could’ve, but I’d rather use yours,” she saw the look on his face and joked, “C’mon, Teller, what else are you gonna use that thing for today, hm?”

“Might just use it on you before the day is out,” he muttered as he wiped the blade off on his jeans.

“Well,” she took another sip of her beer, “At least it’ll smell like watermelon.”

Jax couldn’t wipe the bewildered look off of his face, “There is something so wrong with you, I swear.”

She motioned back and forth between herself and her sister, “We’re Lowman’s. There’s something wrong with all of us,” she left it at that as she walked off towards the grill where Tig and Happy both were, Jax heading back towards the house.

When it was just the two of them left, Juice turned to look at Dakota, “Gonna be honest, I thought she was gonna do that thing where you break it with your thighs.”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “I mean, I’m sure she could, but that’s definitely not the best way to do that. Plus, that wouldn’t get under Jax’s skin nearly as much. He’d probably be into it.”

“You think he’s going back in there to tell Gemma not to invite her any more?”

She couldn’t stop laughing as she leaned against him, “Oh, definitely.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #jax teller #jax teller x oc #oc diedra #oc diedra lowman #my writing #august prompts #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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