#ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

[luv-lock]

— DILF BRUCE WAYNE WHO'S YOUR PRETTY PLAYTHING !

cw. +18, smut, minors dni, fem!reader, sub!bruce, femdom, pegging, anal play, bondage, orgasm control, edging, forced submission, humiliation, degradation, praise, obedience training, cock cages, spit play, public teasing, light breath play, overstimulation, public humiliation, bondage under clothes, vibrating toys in public, praise, size difference, age gap, light CNC, discreet exhibitionism, teasing and general filth.

Subby Dilf Bruce who has been trained so fucking well that the moment you snap your fingers, he’s on his knees. Big, strong hands clasped behind his back, thick thighs trembling as he watches you with those desperate, needy eyes. Waiting. Because good boys wait until they’re given permission.

Subby Dilf Bruce who flinches when you grip his chin, tilting his head up so he’s forced to meet your gaze. “You drooling already, sweetheart?” you purr, swiping your thumb over his lips. His breath stutters, his cheeks burn, because fuck, he is.

Subby Dilf Bruce who can’t stop himself from leaning forward, lips parting, tongue darting out to taste your skin. He’s so fucking desperate for you—he always is. But you just laugh, pressing down on his tongue, watching as he sucks your fingers into his mouth without hesitation.

Subby Dilf Bruce who moans when you pull your fingers out, leaving him a panting, wrecked mess on the floor. He’s already hard, straining against the cock cage you locked him in this morning—so fucking sensitive, so fucking needy.

Subby Dilf Bruce who shakes when you press the remote in your pocket, the hidden plug inside him buzzing to life at full power. His hands clench into fists, a strangled noise escaping his throat as he rocks forward on his knees, pathetically trying to grind against nothing.

Subby Dilf Bruce who whimpers when you straddle his lap, your weight pressing down on his aching, caged cock. “Look at you,” you coo, running your nails down his chest. “Big, strong man reduced to a fucking mess just from getting his ass played with.”

Subby Dilf Bruce who cries when you finally unlock his cage, his cock slapping against his stomach, leaking so much precum it’s fucking obscene. His hips jerk the second your hand wraps around him, and when you whisper, “Be a good boy and don’t cum yet,” his body betrays him.

Subby Dilf Bruce who sobs when he spills all over himself, thighs trembling, pleasure so fucking intense that his mind short-circuits. But you tsk, shaking your head. “Did I say you could cum?”

Subby Dilf Bruce who knows he’s in trouble. Knows he’s about to get fucking wrecked.

Subby Dilf Bruce who is so fucking sensitive when you bend him over, strap thick and slick as you press into his stretched, needy hole. He wails when you slam into him, gripping his hips so tightly he knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow.

Subby Dilf Bruce who claws at the sheets, body arching, cock twitching, so fucking overstimulated that he can’t think—can’t breathe.

Subby Dilf Bruce who begs when you wrap your fingers around his throat, tilting his head back, whispering filth into his ear. “You love this, don’t you? Love being my dumb little fucktoy?”

Subby Dilf Bruce who nods frantically, tears spilling down his cheeks as he chokes out a pathetic, “Y-Yes—yes, please, please, I’ll be good, I-I’ll be so good for you, mistress—”

Subby Dilf Bruce who loses it when you ride him raw, keeping him right on the edge, never letting him cum. He’s broken, a mess of whimpers and moans and desperate, incoherent pleas. Begging for permission, for mercy, for anything.

Subby Dilf Bruce who shatters when you finally lean down, lick the tears off his cheek, and whisper, “Cum for me, puppy.”

Subby Dilf Bruce who screams when he cums harder than he ever has in his fucking life, body convulsing, pleasure so mind-numbing that he sees stars. His cum spurts out, painting his chest, his stomach, his thighs, and he doesn’t stop, his whole body shaking from the sheer force of it. He passes out the second you’re done with him, completely wrecked, completely owned.

Subby Dilf Bruce who wakes up marked—bruises, hickeys, bite marks littering his skin. A collar still snug around his throat. A plug still inside him. And fuck, the way his cock twitches at the memory of what you did to him ♡

Subby Dilf Bruce who looks so out of place next to you, this big, brooding man dressed in an expensive suit, towering over you like a shadow, while you’re a tiny, sparkling thing in pastel pink, glittery nails tapping against your phone as you tug on his hand.

Subby Dilf Bruce who blushes when you pull him into a luxury boutique, cooing about how “Daddy needs a new outfit~” and dragging him toward racks of soft sweaters and pastel button-ups. He whimpers when you make him try them on, pouting when he hesitates. “You wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you?”

Subby Dilf Bruce who nearly dies when you sit on his lap in the dressing room, fingers trailing down his chest, whispering in his ear about how pretty he’d look if you put him in something softer, something that matches you. His cock aches in its cage, throbbing as you grind against him like a spoiled little princess who knows she’s in control.

Subby Dilf Bruce who shudders when you pull away and giggle, patting his cheek. “Be good and buy everything I picked out, okay?” He does—because he always does.

Subby Dilf Bruce who carries your shopping bags through the mall, cheeks pink, hands shaking because he knows what’s inside him—knows that the plug you slipped inside before you left the house is still there, nestled deep, making every step a humiliating, agonizing reminder of who he belongs to.

Subby Dilf Bruce who almost collapses when you turn your toy on. His hands fumble for the remote in his pocket, pressing the button, eyes fluttering as the plug vibrates to life.

Subby Dilf Bruce who stumbles as he walks, thighs clenching, chest rising and falling in short, desperate breaths. People glance at him—confused, curious—but no one knows. No one knows that this big, powerful man is falling apart because his lovely, sweet-looking girlfriend is ruining him.

Subby Dilf Bruce who grits his teeth as you sip your milkshake, sitting across from him in the café, swinging your legs like you’re completely innocent. But your foot is in his lap, pressing against his cock, rubbing against his straining cage, making him sweat.

Subby Dilf Bruce who pleads with his eyes when you slide your phone across the table, screen lighting up with a message: “Don’t cum.” His fingers tighten around the table edge, thighs trembling as the toy inside him pulses, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

Subby Dilf Bruce who jolts when you suddenly giggle and wave at someone behind him. He turns, and—fuck. It’s one of his friends. One of the men who respects him. Looks up to him.

Subby Dilf Bruce who barely holds it together as his friend sits down, completely unaware that the man he looks up to is seconds away from breaking. He tries to talk, to breathe, but he’s so close—

Subby Dilf Bruce who bites his lip so hard it almost bleeds when you smirk at him over your straw, taking a slow, teasing sip of your milkshake. His friend keeps talking—oblivious—while he dies inside.

Subby Dilf Bruce who prays for mercy when you turn the vibration up another notch, his hands clenching into fists under the café table. He’s sweating, trembling, struggling to keep a straight face while his friend keeps droning on about business meetings.

Subby Dilf Bruce who feels like he’s going to die when you pout and bat your lashes. “Daddy, you’re all red… Are you feeling sick?” You press a soft, pink-nailed hand to his forehead, pretending to check his temperature while your other hand slowly drags up his thigh.

Subby Dilf Bruce who flinches when you tap the cage between his legs, watching his breath hitch as his eyes dart around the café, praying no one sees the way his body jolts at your touch.

Subby Dilf Bruce who almost moans when you innocently giggle, leaning closer to whisper, “Poor baby, maybe you should go to the bathroom and take care of it…”

Subby Dilf Bruce who knows there’s no way in hell he’s allowed to do that. You’ve had him denied for days, teasing him relentlessly, edging him until he’s a shaking mess. He flinches when you press down on his cock cage under the table, his thighs trembling as his friend checks his phone, thankfully distracted.

Subby Dilf Bruce who almost collapses when you pull back, smirking as you sip your milkshake, twirling your hair. He rushes to pay the bill, desperate to get out of the café before he completely loses it.

Subby Dilf Bruce who hisses when you tug him into a changing room at the mall, locking the door behind you. He’s so big in the tiny space, his broad shoulders caging you in—but he’s not in control. Not when you push him onto the bench and crawl into his lap.

Subby Dilf Bruce who groans when you straddle him, cupping his face with your tiny, soft hands. “Did my big, strong Daddy almost lose it in public?” You coo, thumb dragging over his lower lip. He’s so humiliated, so weak for you—his cock aching in its cage, his hole still twitching around the plug you’ve been torturing him with all day.

Subby Dilf Bruce who gasps when you suddenly pull on his tie, forcing his head back against the mirror. You’re so much smaller than him, so delicate and sweet-looking. He whimpers when you lean in and lick a slow, teasing stripe up his neck, your warm breath making him shudder.

Subby Dilf Bruce who claws at his thighs when you reach between his legs, pressing against his cage with your fingers. “So hard and yet so useless, huh?” You giggle, rolling your hips against him, grinding down in slow, torturous movements.

Subby Dilf Bruce who shakes when you pull down his shirt, exposing his broad chest, his perfect, sensitive nipples. He tries to stop you, but he’s too weak, too desperate—and then you lick over his nipple, sucking it into your mouth.

Subby Dilf Bruce who whines—fucking whines—as you bite down, your tongue flicking over the hardened bud while your fingers tweak the other one.

Subby Dilf Bruce who chokes when you murmur against his skin, “I should make you wear clamps all day, huh? So everyone can see how sensitive my little pet is.” He nods helplessly, his breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

Subby Dilf Bruce who moans when you finally shove a hand between his thighs and press hard against the plug inside him. His hips jerk, back arching off the bench, face burning red as his body betrays him. He sobs when you turn the plug up to max, sending brutal, relentless vibrations straight into his prostate.

Subby Dilf Bruce who grips your thighs in desperation, his whole body shuddering as he slams his head back against the mirror. He’s so close, so fucking close, and he knows he’s not allowed to cum—

Subby Dilf Bruce who freezes when you suddenly turn it off, leaving him teetering on the edge, his cock twitching violently in its cage.

Subby Dilf Bruce who lets out the most pathetic noise—a high, broken whimper—when you kiss his forehead and whisper, “Not yet, baby. Only good boys get to cum.” He nods through his tears, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

Subby Dilf Bruce who trembles when you pull back, adjusting your tiny, pastel outfit like nothing happened, while he sits there, wrecked and ruined, his thighs shaking beneath you.

Subby Dilf Bruce who stares at you in desperation as you giggle and fix your hair in the mirror. “C’mon, Daddy. We still have so much shopping to do~”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[lachatalovematcha]

🎀🍮🌈カラフルなマカロンや、リラックマにそっくりなケーキ。 これは、リラックマたちがみる夢？！･:*:･｡☆ 🌈🎀🥕クリームや、フルーツたっぷりの、今日のおすすめデザートを召し上がれ！！･:*:･｡☆ 🎀⭐️🎀･:*:･｡☆詳しくはコチラ🎀☀️🌈

[bambisnc]

              ( ♡ ) 𝐵𝖤𝖳 𝖴 𝖶𝖠𝖭𝖭𝖠!

𐙚 ° ˖ 0006. there's a WHAT in anton's basement 😟😟

                                                                ₍ ⋅ ˚ ଳ ₊ ‧ ₎              

notes ⌢ the great nikitaliation (niki + retaliation) (im so smart and funny and witty gais >< )

       ✩ . 0005 — 0007 — m.list . ଳ

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[iamgonnagetyouback]

I've been thinking about your mattheo and potter!reader series and I think it would be very funny if his and Harry's roles were reversed. Maybe Mattheo needs Harry's help with something (buying a present for reader) and Harry can't resist crowing. Maybe Harry gets the chance to mess with him a little, idk.

If this gives you any ideas, feel free to use it. If it doesn't just delete this. Have a great day 💜💜

I NEED YOUR HELP.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ M. RIDDLE

SUMMARY ৎ୭ mattheo riddle asking harry potter for help is something you never thought you’d hear, but apparently, when it comes to your birthday, he’s willing to suffer. now harry’s dragging him all over hogsmeade, milking the moment for all it’s worth, and mattheo’s just trying to survive

WARNINGS ಇ. harry being insufferably smug, mattheo suffering (but for you, so it’s fine), fluff & birthday sweetness, twice use of y/n, hufflepuff!reader mentioned once MORE OF THESE THREE ￫ ୨ৎ A/N ಇ. funny enough, i actually had a similar idea ages ago, but it was more angsty—mattheo and you had a fight, and harry ended up helping him fix it. but i wasn’t totally happy with it, so this idea??? absolute gold. thank you sm for this and for loving this series ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,332

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Mattheo Riddle had done a lot of questionable things in his life. He had charmed teachers to get out of detentions, sweet-talked his way into secret passageways, and once even talked a first-year into sneaking into the kitchens just to grab him a midnight snack. But never—not once—had he stooped as low as asking Harry bloody Potter for help.

And yet, here he was, standing outside the Gryffindor common room like a man about to walk to his execution.

The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, this is unusual. A Slytherin at the lion’s den? What’s the world coming to?"

Mattheo ignored her, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the stone floor. “Potter,” he called, resisting the urge to bang on the portrait like some kind of desperate idiot. “Open the damn door.”

The portrait swung open, and there stood Harry, looking half-curious, half-annoyed—until he registered exactly who was knocking. Then his entire face morphed into one of disbelief, quickly followed by a smirk so smug it made Mattheo’s fingers twitch toward his wand.

“Well, well, well,” Harry drawled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “If it isn’t my favorite Slytherin.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Potter.”

Harry tilted his head, his grin widening. “What’s the matter? Lost? Need directions back to your snake pit?”

Mattheo inhaled deeply, reminding himself that killing Harry would probably ruin his chances with you. “I need your help.”

The words tasted like poison, and by the way Harry’s entire face lit up, Mattheo instantly regretted saying them.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, as if the universe had finally blessed him. “Oh, this is fantastic. This—this is the best day of my life.”

Mattheo exhaled sharply through his nose. “Shut up, Potter.”

“No, no, I won’t shut up,” Harry said, grinning like Christmas had come early. “You—you need me? Me? Merlin, someone pinch me.”

“I swear—”

“This is history. I should write it down.” Harry put a thoughtful hand to his chin, then turned toward the common room. “Oi! Ron!”

“I swear,” Mattheo said through gritted teeth, “if you keep running your mouth, I’ll hex you into next week.”

Harry clutched his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Riddle. Now, what could possibly make you come to me of all people?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply, glaring at the floor like it had personally offended him. “It’s for Y/N.”

That wiped the smirk right off Harry’s face.

He straightened slightly. “Wait. Y/N?”

Mattheo nodded, jaw tightening. “Her birthday is coming up, and I want to get her something special. But I don’t know what.” His scowl deepened, loathing every second of this. “And apparently, you do.”

Harry blinked once. Twice. Then—

“Oh, this is amazing.”

Mattheo groaned. “I hate you.”

“You’re asking me how to impress my own sister?” Harry repeated, letting the words roll off his tongue like the finest honey. “You’re admitting that I know her better than you do?”

Mattheo’s eye twitched. “I will leave you here to die, Potter.”

Harry was practically glowing with amusement. “Relax, Riddle. I’ll help.” He stepped aside, motioning for Mattheo to follow. “But I’m never letting you live this down.”

Mattheo groaned. This was going to be absolute hell.

Harry just laughed, already grabbing his coat. “Let’s go, lover boy. We’ve got shopping to do.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

An hour later, Mattheo knew one thing for certain: shopping with Harry Potter was a nightmare.

Diagon Alley was bustling with people, the air crisp, and the storefronts glowing with flickering signs. Mattheo had been here countless times, usually to lurk around Knockturn Alley or to not shop with purpose. But today? Today, he was walking through it with Harry Potter, of all people, trailing beside him with the smuggest expression known to wizardkind.

“So, what’s the plan?” Harry asked, hands in his pockets as they strode down the cobbled streets.

Mattheo exhaled. “I don’t know. Jewellery? A book? I just—” He hesitated, running a hand through his curls. “It has to be perfect.”

Harry shot him a sideways glance before smirking. “Wow. You’re really in deep, huh?”

Mattheo glared at him. “Shut up.”

Harry chuckled but didn’t push. Instead, he steered them into a small boutique that seemed to have everything. Accessories, trinkets, books, clothing—if there was a good gift to be found, it would be here.

Harry suddenly gasped. Loudly.

Mattheo turned, brows furrowed. “What?”

Harry held up a hideous yellow hat with a massive feather sticking out of it. “This. This is the one.”

Mattheo stared at him, unimpressed. “Are you trying to get me hexed?”

Harry bit back a grin. “What? It’s yellow. She’s a Hufflepuff. Makes sense.”

Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are actually insufferable.”

Harry, completely unbothered, plopped the hat onto Mattheo’s head and grinned. “Perfect. You match.”

Mattheo ripped it off immediately. “I hate you.”

Harry snickered, setting it back down before leading them toward another section. “Alright, Riddle. Let’s see if you actually know my sister.” He gestured to a selection of gifts. “What would she like?”

Mattheo frowned, scanning the shelves. Jewellery? No, she wasn’t into overly expensive things. Books? She liked them, but it didn’t feel personal enough. He ran a hand through his hair, growing frustrated.

Harry, meanwhile, was watching him with amusement. “Wow. You really don’t know, do you?”

Mattheo turned to glare at him. “Shut up, Potter.”

“I mean, this is kind of sad,” Harry continued, tapping his chin in mock pity. “Here I was thinking you were this smooth Slytherin, and you can’t even pick out a birthday present.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes and kept walking, ignoring him. He needed something perfect. Something that would make you light up the way you always did when you got excited.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

A delicate, enchanted necklace—simple, with a small charm that shifted between your favorite colors. It wasn’t loud or flashy, but it was elegant. Yes, it was jewellery but more importantly, it was you.

Mattheo reached for it, turning it over in his fingers. He could already picture you wearing it, already imagine your smile.

Mattheo stared at it for a long moment before muttering, “She’ll like this.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s surprisingly thoughtful for you.”

Mattheo smirked. “Told you.”

“Still,” Harry said, grinning, “I think you should’ve gone with the hat.”

Mattheo punched him in the arm, pulling out his money.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The night of your birthday, Mattheo watched nervously as you opened his gift.

He had never been nervous before. Not in fights, not in duels, not even when facing detention with Snape. But watching you—the girl who had somehow taken over his heart—unwrap his present?

Merlin, it was terrifying.

Your fingers carefully lifted the lid of the box, and as soon as you saw what was inside, your whole face lit up.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes wide as you lifted the necklace from its velvet cushion. The charm shimmered, shifting from a soft gold to a warm shade of your favorite color.

Mattheo held his breath.

“This is—” You looked up at him, a bright smile on your lips. “It’s beautiful.”

Mattheo exhaled, relief washing over him. “Yeah?”

You nodded, fastening it around your neck before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. “I love it.”

His usual smugness returned, but there was something softer in his eyes. “Yeah, well. Had to make sure it was perfect.”

Harry, sitting nearby, loudly cleared his throat. “And who helped you pick it out?”

Mattheo’s eye twitched. “No one.”

Harry smirked. “That’s not what I remember.”

You blinked between them, amused. “Wait. You two went shopping together?”

Mattheo groaned. “It was awful.”

Harry grinned. “It was the best day of my life.”

You laughed leaning up to kiss Mattheo’s cheek. “Well, I love it.”

Mattheo smirked, draping an arm around you, while Harry made gagging noises in the background.

Somehow, this was the best birthday ever.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[hojirias]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚘ㅤ𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚘

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝚍𝚎

ㅤ 𝚝𝚞𝚜ㅤ𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍͟𝚘͟𝚜ㅤ ✦ㅤ𔕛ㅤ𝅘𝅥

[cwrcent]

bear-like pancake with 𝇄𝇃  ᭄ᬬ ..

 ͙ ͙۪۪ ♥︎̼̻ chocolate syrup to make faces with smiles

[angelqie]

ㅤㅤ( NRK. )ㅤㅤ✶ㅤㅤSPORTS CAR

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 — 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾.

SOMAR𝒊O ─── your ex does whatever it takes to get you back 엔하이픈 西村力 𝐱 𝑓. reader ✉️ wc. 650 ✶ careful ! skinship, kissing, petnames/ nicknames, alcohol

ex!riki who nonchalantly broke up with you but still does everything he can to get you back.

Cool air drifted into your room through the open window, eliciting goosebumps on your exposed skin. Sitting at your desk with your work in front of you, you found your twin airpods and pressed them into your ears. 

Before the music could begin, a throaty engine revved outside your window, distracting your initial plans to where the sound was coming from. Stalking into your balcony and leaning over the edge, you glanced down at the slick black car roaring on your driveway. 

Squinting to see who the driver was, he flicked his head up, meeting your confused look. “Riki?” You called over the loud engine. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” He spoke, shooting you a look that shouldn’t have made your heartbeat quicken. “I told you to stop calling me that.” Forcing the anger out of you, you glared down at him. 

Ignoring your comment, he spoke. “Want to go for a ride?” 

Wondering what got him to think that you’d be willing to go with him, you stared at the tempting choice for a moment before flipping him off and shutting the balcony door, pressing your hand onto your thumping heart and willing yourself to remember that you were supposed to hate him. 

Eventually the revving of the engine stopped and silence followed moments after. Unable to hear whether he got out of the car, you went back to your work, plugging in your headphones and writing on the paper. To your surprise, a hand pressed on your shoulder, causing you to jump and whip your chair around, automatically alert. 

Leaning down close enough for your foreheads to touch, you stared into the slitted dark eyes of your ex-boyfriend who seemingly managed to sneak in through the window— a skill you weren’t surprised about since you used to sneak out with him through that very window when you were dating.  

“Hi, pretty.” The close proximity knocked the air out of your lungs, making it difficult to move. “I told you not to call me that.” You spoke in a voice worthy of being a whisper. 

“Technically, you told me not to call you ‘pretty girl’ and I didn’t.” Lifting up a hand that was resting on your arm-rests, he brushed stray strands of hair away from your face. “I called you pretty, because you are.”

Widening your eyes, you pushed his body away from yours in an attempt for him to not hear the loud beating at your chest. Breathing heavily, you watched his cocky expression grin at your flustered reaction. “Stop flirting and leave.” 

Ignoring your sentence, he feigned a pout. “Don’t you like guys with sports cars?” 

Forcing your lips into a tight smile, you sighed heavily. “No, I just don’t like you.” His grin never faltered as he pressed his hand on his heart and sauntered towards you. Picking up your hand, he placed it on your loudly beating heart and settled his hand over yours. 

Knowing very well that he could hear and feel the thumping in your chest, your cheeks turned scarlet. “Are you sure you don’t like me?” 

Staring directly into his intimidating gaze, you nodded, sure that you were fooling him as much as you were fooling yourself. 

“I’ll see about that.” He mumbled before leaning in and connecting your lips. A wave of nostalgia shook through your body as everything felt familiar to you. Expecting to be fully disturbed by his action, you were caught by surprise by your own action of moving against his lips. 

Using the nape of your neck to pilot the kiss, you barely managed to pull away for air, making you feel lightheaded. Finally pulling back, you stared into his cocky eyes and watched him straighten up.

“So,” He began, motioning over to the window. “Want to go for a ride?” 

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© ANGELQIE 2025.

[devoildrs]

I'd love to see haerin moodboard ;)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ◜࿙ ⭒ ࿚◝

[aceorei]

ㅤㅤ⋆ ʕ -᷅ ༝-᷄ʔ ⁺ ∿ cover me . . ✿

[chaeneuu]

ㅤㅤ ࣪ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ׅㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ִㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ๑

[ansfruit]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ໒꒰ ◞ ˕ ◟ ꒱১ ㅤ ◞ㅤ 𔘓ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𐙚ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ୨ᅠ ֺ ᅠ📨ㅤ𓈒  ׁ ㅤ𝗉𝖾𝗋ㅤ𝗅𝖾ㅤ𝗆𝗂𝖾ㅤ𝖿𝗈𝖻𝗂𝖾ㅤㅤ𓏲ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝜗୧ㅤㅤ／ ㅤㅤ𝟥𝟥ㅤㅤㅤ𝅼◞ㅤㅤㅤ𖹭ㅤㅤ🏷️ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤO1 📁

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤMY CRAZY BOYFRIENDㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Teen Team Guys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : When they act crazy but think it's normal.

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Mark Grayson, Rex Sloan, Rudolph 'Rudy' Conners, Male Eve Wilkins.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— MARK GRAYSON ⋆

You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you slide open your closet door, fully prepared to grab a sweater and move on with your night. Instead, you’re greeted by the sight of Mark, squatting in the corner like some feral raccoon, clutching one of your hoodies to his chest.

He blinks up at you, wide-eyed.

“…Hey.”

You don’t even react. You just shut the door again.

“Wait—babe! Come back! This isn’t what it looks like!” His muffled voice seeps through the wood.

“Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like.” You rub your temples. “Mark, why the fuck are you in my closet?”

There’s a long silence, then a hesitant, “…To be close to you?”

You groan.

“Okay—wait—before you get mad,” he tries, “I technically haven’t left. Like, all day. So, technically, I haven’t been following you, I’ve just… always been here.”

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!”

He bursts out like a guilty child, tripping over your shoes in the process. “I just like your smell, okay?! It’s comforting!”

You’re pretty sure he’s stolen half your wardrobe at this point.

Then you grab your coat and walk out of your room. You can’t deal with this. "I'm sleeping at a friend's house."

"Okay!" he calls after you. "I'll be right here when you get back!"

— REX SLOAN ⋆

You're at a restaurant, minding your business, when the waiter places a drink in front of you.

"Here's your drink, ma'am," the poor guy says.

Rex lunges across the table, knocking everything over in his path. "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, BUD?!"

The entire restaurant turns to stare as Rex grabs the waiter by the collar.

"Sir, I—"

"DO YOU THINK SHE WANTS YOUR DRINK? YOU THINK SHE WANTS YOU?! YOU TRYNA FLIRT?!" Rex’s hands start to glow, dangerous sparks flying. The table catches fire.

The waiter is pale. "Sir, this is my job—"

"OH, SO YOUR JOB IS TO HIT ON MY GIRL?! I’LL BLOW YOUR NUTS OFF!"

"Rex," you hiss, face buried in your hands. "Put him down. Right. Fucking. Now."

Silence.

Then Rex lets go. The waiter collapses onto the floor, trembling.

Rex turns to you, panting, eyes crazed. Then he smirks, sliding into the seat next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "So anyway, babe, I was thinkin’ about gettin’ a tattoo of your name across my chest."

You stare at the burning table. "I'm leaving."

— RUDOLPH CONNERS ⋆

You wake up to the soft, persistent buzzing of your phone. You squint at the screen.

Unknown Number: Good morning. You should drink some water. Your body temperature was slightly high at 3:42 AM.

Your stomach drops.

You: Who is this???

Unknown Number: You left your window unlocked again. I locked it for you. You’re welcome.

You don’t respond. Instead, you launch out of bed, rip open your curtains—

And stare directly at a hovering drone. It stares back.

It waves at you.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper.

Your phone buzzes again.

Unknown Number: Why did you close your curtains? :(

— EVAN WILKINS ⋆

You freeze as soon as you step into your apartment. Something is… off.

The walls. They’re a different color. Your furniture? Not where you left it. Your wardrobe? Different.

Oh no. Not again.

“Surprise!” His voice is so cheerful, it makes you want to throw something.

You whirl around. There he is, standing in your newly pink-painted living room, arms wide open like he expects a hug.

You stare at him, horrified. “What did you do?”

“I made everything better!” he beams. “I mean, you have terrible taste. No offense.”

“No offense?!” You gesture around wildly. “You redesigned my entire apartment without asking!”

“Yeah, because I love you,” he says, like that explains everything.

You inhale deeply. Do not commit murder. Do not commit murder.

“Also, I made sure the door won’t open until we talk about your feelings,” he adds helpfully.

You scream into a pillow.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[bambisnc]

(   ➴ ) NEW MESSAGE FROM: bsf!nishimura riki ⋆

crack // swearing + sexual humor + mentions of chase atlantic ˖ ✧

𝓍𝗈𝗑𝗈 ─── this is based on irl convos and that's uh .. quite interesting. shout out lily for inspo for 1st ss & mickie for the 5th >3< andd honorary mention to "we hate everyone" gc. also yizhiyu fansign pics my Beloved. + [FILE.ZIP]

𐙚 . regulars : @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[angusttia]

𝒜 + 𝒮ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ

'Cause, baby, if your love is in trouble

Baby, if your love is in trouble

Baby, if your love is in trouble

ㅤㅤ

۶ৎ

When you know, you know

When you know, you know

ㅤㅤ

𝜗𝜚

ㅤㅤ

Maybe tomorrow you'll know...

[haenxn]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀soft little things shared in the dark of night ‧̥ॱ 💍🐈˙♥︎⠀

♪ ͏ ͏͏ ཆི❀ཆྀ ㅤㅤ♫ ⠀♬

[crush-itis]

　 ㅤ. 𓂂 Twisted Wonderland ⊹

general lilia x fem!reader ꒱ fanfic

　 ㅤㅤ ˖ chapter two ׄ ⊹ 𓂃 　

‧₊˚✩ tags： gilf, sfw, fluff, angst, slowburn

‧₊˚✩ word count： 1308

‧₊˚✩ summary： You’re a mix of human, and fae; it sounds otherworldly—extraordinary, however, while your origin may sound like another case of a Mary Sue cliche, the people of both worlds of your kind had casted you aside because of your mongrel background… that was until you met Lilia, your becoming mentor who’ll introduce you to the world of your human blood’s counterpart, and blend in the faes’ society.

‧₊˚✩ a/n： sorry for the short and emo chapter, love yew

ㅤㅤ ୨ ◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞　 previous ch.⠀♡ next ch.

The next day was quite the same. You were woken up by your cavalier mentor who was roughly shaking your shoulder, and pulling your ear.

You were a heavy sleeper, but he didn’t have to snatch your pillow away.

You’re now stretching with him—early in the morning. Both of you are silent, and only the sounds of knuckles popping, and limbs stretching were heard.

You were so awkward, you were sweating. Does he normally wake up this hour?

5:00 AM?

You had just been registered as his “special” apprentice. He cannot be making you do these hardcore routines… you were even more appalled when the day unfolded at this point; “you’re going to kill someone today.”

Lilia cracked his neck, letting out a soft sigh as if he didn’t just say the craziest thing ever (to you). There was no way you had the balls to kill someone…

“What the? Don’t you think we’re going too fast? I just started yesterday..” you muttered, twiddling with your moist, trembling fingers. You rubbed the creases of your knuckle, already feeling stressed at the mere thought of handling a sword—for real this time.

“It’s just a practice,” Lilia shrugged, zipping up his bag. “It’s going to be a long trip all the way back to the human realm.” He patted his leather suitcase, the fabric bulging of what seemed to be baggy clothes, and toiletries.

“Yeah.. a practice. But why are you bringing all of that? Didn’t it take a five minute walk back from the woods to the entrance of Briar Valley?” You scratched your nape, waiting for a reply, only to be met with a glare as if a cue to shut your bumbling.

“We’re going to the outskirts of the human realm,” he sounded so annoyed. You were just asking a question… querying a perfectly, and reasonable question.

But of course you zipped your little peephole.

You didn’t want to die yet.

As he led you outside, holding his bag along your smaller one—since you don’t have much to your name—you were enamoured by the view of the palace’s exterior.

Yesterday, when you first arrived, it was too dark to admire the close-ups of a real life castle, and Briar Valley’s was especially beautiful.

It was grand, painted with monochromatic colour palettes, and donned with a gothic ornate style.

You almost felt as if you were in a trance. You didn’t even realize your legs had wandered off to a set of stained glass windows.

They were colourful, pretty, and told a thought-provoking story you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

But what really intrigued you was this mosaic; it was a picture of an intimidating, and beautiful lady with a pair of black horns bulging out her head.

It was as if your legs had a mind of their own—calling you to go here, and there.

Suddenly, you were again woken up from your “maladaptive” fantasies by a rough shaking on your sleeve.

You instantly knew who it was.

The angry hand is now pulling at your ear, scolding you for wandering off like that when he was just putting both your guys’ luggage inside the carriage.

You muttered a sheepish, and timid apology before rushing to the carriage from behind him.

You plopped your butt down on the plush, velvet cushions, clasping your hands awkwardly on your lap. You let your eyes feather on Lilia’s visage, mapping out every little detail in curiosity.

You squint your eyes

He’s resting his chin on his palm, looking out the window. “What?” He started, flicking his gaze over you. “Nothing.” You gulped.

His long bangs brushed along the curve of his jaw, his jet black ponytail swishing behind his back.

“You’re going to kill old people, don’t worry.” He failed to reassure you.. “The old, human citizens that are on the brink of death.” He continued.

You don’t even want to say anything to that. You just nodded bashfully before finally averting your gaze.

Hours passed, and you could see the moon was already rising. The wheels rattled, the carriage hitting a bumpy road that made you bounce up, and down in your seat.

You grasped onto the handle, rubbing your eyes groggily.

It really was a long ride. You wondered which part of the human realm Lilia was taking you to…

You sprung awoke, gasping. You run a sweaty palm through your hair, and glanced down next to you. “Are you always like this when you wake up?” Lilia scoffed, rubbing his temples.

There were bags under his eyes, and you’re not even realizing yet that you were sleeping in the same bed as him.

“You’re always a deep sleeper, I had to drag you into the inn. We’re in ***.” He pressed a hand to your chest, pushing you back down against the sheets.

“The innkeeper did a funny job of giving us a room with only one bed,” he sighed, subtly gesturing to the pillow barrier he set between the two of you.

You let out a gruff “oh” before scratching your nape.

You honestly don’t know why you woke up so panicked like that. You took a deep breath before grabbing the glass of water from the bedside, chugging.

“Nightmare?” Lilia let out a mocking chuckle, but you didn’t respond. Actually, you were starting to remember now that he mentioned “nightmare”. You simply just had a crazy dream of being bewitched by something or someone.

But you were watching it all unfold through third person.

It gave you the creeps of how you were watching yourself become hypnotized or something. The memory was fresh, and vivid now. Your pupils had glimmered an emerald green unlike the usual black.

You shivered at that.

It wasn’t even that bad of a dream, but it still scared you. It was disturbing.

Perhaps the dream is the manifestation of your trepidation—impending fear for what’s to come.

For what you have to do.

You didn’t want to kill anyone.

You’re not sure if this could truly be the solution to become a real faerie.

“Hey,” he’s calling you “hey” again. “Actually, my name is Y/N.” You corrected, but earned no reply.

“Who’s your parents? Which one’s the faerie?” Lilia blurted, lying with his chin on his hand again. He’s looking you up, and down.

He gave you that grudging bitch stare that always ruffles your feathers.

You inhaled deeply.

It was dark but you noticed that he was, uhh… shirtless underneath the colourful quilt.

You swore you were just flashed.

You cleared your throat before responding “my mother.” Your voice cracked, and you seethed under your breath, cringing.

“Really?” He hummed, “so why’d she choose to be with your father?” he reached to pinch your nose, and you let out a tiny yelp at that.

“She said he was extremely handsome, so she couldn’t resist.” You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Lilia’s eyes softened, rounding.

You heard him mutter something, but you couldn’t tell what he said.

“Okay, go back to sleep, tomorrow morning’s the day.” He pressed your chest insistently to the sheets again.

You lied down, and fluttered your eyes. You can’t sleep.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking at the cracks on the ceiling. You’re now picking at your lip skin, thinking about random things to pass the time.

You listened to the clock ticking eerily, and for a moment your ears rang, and a flicker of your earlier dream flashed in your mind, causing you to wince.

You rubbed your eyes again, groaning.

The day has finally come, and you’re fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. Your pulse is fluttering amok, fearing today's upcoming events for you.

Lilia had just gone downstairs to fetch you breakfast while you panic, and dress up for the day.