#Exactly what I was thinking but put into words

[jeongin-lvr]

🎼 ─┈┈ hubby heeseung ̩̩͙˚ ᩙ ⠀

husband! heeseung with the fattest crush on you literally ever. he worships the ground you walk on; he practically kneels before you, awaiting every need and command you bring to him. he’s so serious when he says he’d take every star out of the sky and give it to you as a gift if you asked. which also includes in bed when he has your face buried into the messed up, unkept bedsheets, whispering i love you’s as he kisses your g-spot with his fat cock. or when he has you in the shower, bent between your legs on his knees as water rushes down his back because you looked too pretty with soapy hair and skin. he mumbles against your clit as he does so, gurled by water but his point still comes across, “the prettiest girl... and you’re all mine, thank you...“

husband! heeseung who recites his vows as he fucks you in a mating press. its crazy but he does it every single time he has you all curled up, knees beside your head, too fucked out as buckets of his cum leaks out of you and stains the sheets. he’s telling you every promise he made on your wedding day and more. he’s reminding you it really is till death do you part. he doesn’t realize he’s doing it; it’s probably just because he gets so worked up, so full of love. every thrust into your flutterung hole is heaven, and all he can think about is how badly he loves you and how badly he wants to get you pregnant.

husband! heeseung who finds you the absolute sexiest when you’re wearing your glasses and his big t-shirt, bare legs, messy hair, rosy cheeks. it’s perfection, he can’t get enough. if he sees you like that fully expect to be completely ruined within the next hour. he fucks you with the glasses on, an dyou’re confused because he doesn’t get crazy like this when you actually dress up or put effort into your appearence, and all he has to say is, “this is the you that turns me on.“ he’ll pin your hands above your head and press your knees into your chest as he stuffs himself inside of you, loving the way the fabric of his shirt bunches at your hips. you weren’t even wearing any panties anyway, what did you expect <3

husband! heeseung who kisses your wedding bands whenever you two are having intimate, lazy sex. lifting your wrist and hand to his lips and pecking your knuckles, kissing on your shaky hands until his lips trace the cold metal, humming with a smile at the way your gaze flickers to his. its the cutest thing, immediately making you smile when you see the sparkles filling his gaze. its so obvious he loves you so much. he even promises to buy you more rings because, “you deserve it,“ and he never fails to fulfill his promise. the next day he somehow comes home from work with a new band, something new for your growing collection.

husband! heeseung who is the first to bring up kids and is very serious about wanting at least two. he’ll casually bring it up into conversations and its adorable... until he’s lifting you onto the counter and lifting your skirt because you’re ovulating and it’s, word for word, “the perfect time to get you pregnant.“ he says it sneakily, with a wink and a cunning grin. you can’t say no, especially since the idea of him being the father of your children was almost perfect. you’re both young but it doesn’t hurt to try does it? so he’s waking you up to his cock filling you up in the morning, or when you’re just watching a movie he ends up sitting you on his dick and filling you up. you have no complaints. just shaky legs and a nice, warm creampie.

husband! heeseung who finally gets you pregnant and is somehow even more obsessed with you. he’s doting on you hand and foot. every craving you get he’s finding every ingredient. every symptom you experience he’s researching diligently, telling you cures or remedies, scheduling doctors apointments to get an experts opinion. and on days when all you wanna do is be near him, feel him, feel sexy with him, he’s so perfect at being exactly what you need. he worships your body; praising you on how pretty you look full of his baby, how you’re glowing, kissing your ankles or your tits or anywhere you might feel a little unsure of.

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[zshiftsrealties]

MANIFESTATION, AND IT'S CORE

this isn't a FUCKING joke. all of this isn't some big lie just so people can mess with you.

it's not "too good to be true", it's not "one day I will", it's not "can I?", it's not it's not it's not. it's REAL, it's LITERAL, it's YOURS.

it's different names for the SAME FUCKING THING. IT'S ALL THE SAME. one's not harder than the other, one's not easier than the other. it's the EXACT same.

lucid dreaming is the same as shifting which is same as manifesting which is same as the void. it's all the same. THE ESSENCE OF IT IS ALL THE SAME.

and the FACT is that it's all yours. NO, you don't have the "power to do it" because YOU DON'T NEED THAT BULLSHIT. it's YOURS.

there's no "specific time", "special day", "the one moment", "the one word" that'll make you shift/everything else. there's no nothing. there's nothing that youll find that'll "make you" shift. there's no secret formula, secret recipe, "oh, maybe I'm doing this wrong", "wait, maybe if I do this", "maybe if I try that". there's just you, and everything that's already yours. SO OWN UP TO IT. SAY IT WITH YOUR DAMN CHEST THAT IT'S YOURS. say it so loud that even someone in the DEPTHS of HELL and in the HEIGHTS of HEAVEN can hear that IT'S YOURS!! say it with such a sense of entitlement that GOD HIMSELF hears you, sees you, and acknowledges you!

IT'S YOURS, IT'S YOURS, IT'S YOURS. say it until you feel sick of it. say it until your brain's fried. say it until you're out of it. say it UNTIL YOU CAN MEAN IT when you say IT'S YOURS.

one assumption, one assumption is all it takes. one sentence that you don't question. hell, question it even. doesn't matter. even so, one assumption is what it takes to be the you who has it all. the assumption that you ARE the you who has it all.

don't even believe. don't. don't even think twice. don't bother at all. don't do nothing. you don't NEED to do nothing. because you already are the you who has what you want.

what you desire was already yours before it was even put in your heart. it has been yours when it appeared. its completely yours when you work towards having it. it's yours to enjoy when you finally have it. so enjoy it throughout. enjoy it when you're persisting that you have it. enjoy it when an intrusive thought arises. enjoy it when you question it's validity. because it was yours the moment the big bang happened, and it was yours before it happened, and it was yours when nothing existed, and it's yours when the world ends. it's yours from start to end.

if it wasn't yours, it would've passed you by, and you wouldn't even have any idea. if it wasn't yours, you wouldn't be here right now. if it wasn't yours, you wouldn't be trying even if you're doubting it. if it wasn't yours, it wouldn't have found you in a hundred lifetimes.

you cannot make this shit up. it's a FACT. you don't find anything. whatever is yours, finds you. you cannot escape what's yours. that is your blessing. take it. own it. live it.

you're NEVER chasing. your desires chase you. they WANT to be yours.you CAN live without them. you definitely can. they can't. but since they're yours, they move with you, and so in your frame, it looks like you're chasing after them. that you have to have them. SO WIDEN YOUR FRAME. WIDEN THAT FUCKING PICTURE. ZOOM THE FUCK OUT. SEE, that they continue chasing after you, trying to catch up. so own them. stop running. give yourself a break. take a breather. what are you chasing after anyway? when everything is yours since the beginning of the world, and even before that. you're making your life awfully like Achilles's. stop going so fast that you pass your desires and then end up behind them. stop running in circles. stop, and relax. you've reached the end line. you ARE the end line. let your desires come to YOU. that's what you deserve, and that is EXACTLY what you have.

you will have exactly what you intend. intention matters, and actions follow. so intend big, assume the "impossible", and watch it appear before you. the mind is a powerful thing. it always works in your favor, but only if you keep it under your control. do not let it even DARE to think it can control you. don't YOU ever think it can control you. sit down with it. tell it your desires. tell it that you already HAVE your desires. and most importantly, tell it that it has to work for you NO MATTER WHAT. because that is what it's supposed to do. that's it's purpose.

no, you're not GOD. you're YOU. that's your power. GOD has too much to take care of. the wind; it's direction, the water; its flow, the rain; where it falls, the leaves; when they wither, your next breath that you'll take, every single person on this once fully green Earth. he's constantly taking care of everyone else. do you have the time to take care of every single individual alive and breathing right now? honestly, no. you're not gonna sit here saying "oh, yeah. let me pay the debts of someone on the other end of the world who probably doesn't even know me". I know I won't. is that selfish? I don't care. I deserve everything that I want as much as anyone else in this whole wide world. so no. NO NO NO. you're nothing, but YOU. you don't "make it happen", you don't have to. you assume, it happens. you intend, its here. that's YOU. you don't have to sit down and plan HOW what you want will happen, you sit down and assume it'll happen, and it will.

anyways, yeah. you get the point. you are you, do not try to be anything or anyone else. be you, do you, for you. and everything will be yours. it already is. you are the CORE, the CENTER, the start and the end.

[mrsbarnesblog]

caught

masterlist

summary: after accidentally spilling soda on your shirt while hanging out with Sarah, you go to the bathroom to wash it only to be met with her brother. freshly out of the shower.

words count: 1.2k

warnings: making out, half-naked Rafe, suggestive?

The movie played on Sarah’s flat screen, with you both being lazily spread out on her bed, but you couldn’t focus. You were in her room, sipping soda and pretending to actually pay attention to the cheesy rom-com she swore was “life-changing.” But the real distraction was her brother, Rafe, who’d been lurking somewhere in the house all evening.

The tension between you and Rafe had been simmering for months. Stolen glances, fleeting touches, and a kiss that you shared not so long ago were slowly driving you insane. After the night when he kissed you after driving you back to your house and leaving with a soft ‘goodnight’, you couldn’t seem to focus on anything beside that memory.

You hadn’t told anyone—not even Sarah—because you knew how complicated it would get. Sarah’s protective streak would go into overdrive, and your other Pogue friends would probably be either pissed off or completely shoked.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to shake the thoughts from your head, when the ice-cold soda spilled over the rim of the can and onto your shirt.

“Shit.” You muttered, jerking back as the liquid seeped into the fabric.

Sarah burst out laughing, putting the movie on pause and sipping her own soda with a grin. “Oh my god, you’re a disaster. Go clean it up before you ruin my comforter!”

“In your bathroom?”

“Nah, in the one down the hall, I told you that the water doesn't work in mine. And try not to cause any more problems.” She teased, her grin wide.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed some tissues from her ightstand and headed down the hallway. You pushed open the bathroom door without thinking, too focused on the mess.

“Holy—”

Your words caught in your throat.

Standing there was Rafe. His back was turned to you at first, a bright white towel slung low on his hips, his shoulders, and his muscular back still wet from the shower. He turned at the sound of the door, his brows raising in mild surprise.

“Didn’t know I had company.” He said, his voice lazy, like he wasn’t the one standing half-naked in front of you.

Your heart pounded. You wanted to look away, to leave, but your feet stayed rooted to the spot as your eyes hungrily slid over his perfect body, not missing a single spot and lingering on that perfect v-line. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” You managed, your voice shaking slightly.

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re staring.”

“I am not!” You shot back, though your gaze betrayed you as it flicked briefly to his chest.

He took a slow step toward you, and the air in the room seemed to thicken. “You sure about that?”

You swallowed hard, your back hitting the door as you instinctively stepped away. “Rafe, I was just—”

“Just what?” He interrupted, his tone playful but edged with something darker, something dangerous. “Sneaking a peek? It’s okay. I don’t mind if it’s you, you know that.”

“Stop.” You said, but your voice slightly trembled, and Rafe definitely didn’t miss that.

He didn’t. Instead, he leaned a hand against the door beside your head, caging you in. Face too close to you, with water drops still sliding down his damp hair right on the floor. His other hand tugged the towel around his hips a little higher, a deliberate tease, making your eyes shamelessly follow his movements.

“Relax.” He murmured, his voice low, intimate. “It’s just me.”

“Exactly.” You hissed, trying to keep your head clear and not fall for his tricks, even if Rafe’s presence alone made your knees weak and your insides flutter with anticipation. “You’re Sarah’s brother. If she finds out about this—”

“About what?” He tilted his head, his lips dangerously close to yours. “We haven’t even done anything. Yet.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of his soap intoxicating you. With a low chuckle, he grabbed your arm, pulling you further into the room, closer to the sink, and taking napkins from your hands. He patted your shirt to make it seem like he was actually doing something. You both knew that it was just his little game, his usual teasing demeanor around you. 

You turned your head to look at the foggy mirror above the sink, seeing your reflection and once again noticing how good he looked beside you—so big, strong, and goddamn sexy. 

“We look good together, don’t we?” Rafe murmured beside your ear, his pretending of cleaning your shirt long forgotten when your head snapped into his direction and you saw him just a few centimeters away from your face.

“Rafe, this isn’t—”

Before you could finish, his lips brushed yours, testing. It was gentle at first, like he was daring you to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, your hands found his tense shoulders, gripping them as he kissed you deeper, his other hand sliding to your waist.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, as the kiss consumed you. The tension that had been building between you for months exploded all at once, leaving no room for reason. Rafe pushed you back, closer to the sink, then hooked his hands under your thighs and easily lifted you on the counter. He pushed himself in between your legs, and for a second you worried that his not-really-helping-to-hide-anything towel might just simply drop with the way how carelessly he moved in between your legs. 

You panted against his lips, too lost in his touch and scent, never wanting this moment to end. Your body was heating up from Rafe's touch and the way his lips were moving against your, making it wet and messy. You slid your nails from his shoulders down his chest, leaving long stripes and pulling a groan from his mouth onto your lips. Then the door behind you creaked open.

“Babe, why is it taking you so long—”

Sarah’s voice cut off abruptly.

You sprang apart, pushing Rafe away from you, and jumped down from the counter, your heart racing as Sarah stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with horror.

“Oh. My. God.” Her voice was laced with disbelief and disgust. “Ew, Rafe! What were you doing to her?!”

You tried to step forward to explain, but Rafe’s arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly in place. 

“Sarah, I can—”

“Save it.” She snapped, throwing up a hand to stop you. Your stomach dropped thinking that she was actually angry at you. “I knew something was going on, but I didn’t need to see it! And, for the love of everything holy, Rafe, hold your towel!” She moaned in desperation, covering her eyes with one hand.

Behind you, Rafe chuckled, completely unbothered. “What can I say, sis? She’s irresistible.”

“Gross!” Sarah groaned dramatically. “Figure this out somewhere else! And don’t touch anything in here!” She stormed off, muttering under her breath.

You turned to Rafe, mortified. “This is a disaster.”

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Worth it.”

“You’re impossible.” You muttered, though you didn’t pull away as he leaned in again, his lips ghosting over yours gently and tenderly.

“And you’re not saying no.” He whispered, the smirk on his face making your stomach flip.

You knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

[ozzgin]

Keeping the theme of literary yandere characters, I return with this Kafkaesque bizarrerie of a bureaucratic madman. content: gender neutral reader, kidnapping, absurdism

Yandere!Office Worker is a prim and proper young man. He's eloquent, well-mannered, and intelligent, albeit a little stiff in his ways. One can tell he enjoys rules and structure, perhaps to the point of absurdity - otherwise he wouldn't be such a great servant of the bureaucratic machine. Indeed, everything must go according to the established code of conduct; yet, the author of these instructions remains to be determined.

Yandere!Office Worker is convinced you must become his partner at once! Consequently, you wake up in a basement, though it's not the typical basement one would imagine when thinking about basements. The wallpaper is fresh and elegant, the little window bordering the ceiling allows for plenty of natural light, and the furniture is clean, luxurious, with a faint sterile smell to it. Of course, he cleans everything thoroughly every morning at exactly 7:45am, with the exception of your bed, as he does not wish to disturb your slumber.

Yandere!Office Worker listens to your horrified pleas with profound interest in his eyes. You're a tad annoyed by his sympathy. "Hey," you warn him, "you're literally the one who kidnapped me. Don't pretend you're not involved!" He gasps, his pale, slender hand clutching at his chest. Well, pretending to clutch, that is: he wouldn't want to wrinkle his buttoned shirt.

Yandere!Office Worker vehemently denies any kind of wrongdoing. No, no, you were not kidnapped. It's a misunderstanding! He has the paperwork, you see. Everything happened according to the law. If you do insist, he can call the Tribunal. They'll tell you it all happened officially and correctly. "What's this Tribunal you speak of," you ask with a skeptical frown. "Let me call them myself," you demand, "since you can't be trusted."

Yandere!Office Worker hands you the telephone with pompous theatrics. "You're in luck," he says, "they're only open on Thursdays and Tuesdays, but only if it's sunny." You rip the device from his fingers and dial the number. His own phone begins to ring. "Yes," he answers solemnly, "how may we help you?" You stare, bewildered, at the scene unfolding before you. "Are you mocking me? What's the meaning of this," you begin to shout, but he quickly places a finger over your lips. "Not right now, Darling, I have an important work call."

Yandere!Office Worker is a damned lunatic. You march towards the door and urge him to let you go. You have coworkers, friends, and family waiting for you outside. Your partner! This idea seems to upset him greatly, because he stomps his foot into the carpeted floor and gesticulates: "Because he lifted his skirts like this, this giddy goose," he cries out, "you chatted him up, dug your nose into the pretty words like a well-fed pig!" He grabs your hands with desperate urgency. "Won't you understand already? I'm your husband, I ought to know you better than all these strangers you speak of."

Yandere!Office Worker is rather convincing in his ministerial meltdown. You inspect the documents, putting each line under scrutiny. Finally, you click your tongue. The rascal has a point, after all, everything matches the paperwork. "No mistake," you confess, handing him the thick, leather-bound folder. "I suspected you'd come to your senses very soon," he beams. "Let's go upstairs, I'll make you a cup of coffee." You follow behind obediently. "I'd like-" you start, but he interrupts you. "Half a teaspoon of sugar, a little milk foam on top. Who do you think you're talking to, (Y/N)?"

[necroliberty]

So because this is amazing and because I am hyperfocusing on Gravity Falls. Let me share a bit of Amelia's long-lost sister, Kelly Ness. Okay, they aren't sisters anymore, but still.

Kelly fell on the blue grass of a random dimension. She wasn't the type to keep note. The atmosphere was different, somehow safe and dangerous at the time. But again, she didn't particularly keep a note on things like that. Kelly just made a bee line to a mailbox inside either various stickers added to the tin. Mabels had a knack to give stickers to everything. But Kelly just gave them a cursory glance as her right eye gave her the info on each. Giving the coordinate to each stickers place of creation. She should make note of getting stickers for respectives Mabels. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could tell Kelly where to actually send the damm things. Eventually, she opened the mailbox with a specific key and looked through the letters. Some were boring ads that she threw around. No one needed those. Some were Stanfords incredible writings, making sure to say exactly who and where it should be sent. Other times, it was Stanley's doing letters of his own. They were often hard to send back. Mabels were also there. It was obvious with how much stickers and colors her letters had. She practically never had to read the content to know exactly where to go. A bit more, and she was wondering if Mabels just knew the mailbox wasn't actually magic. The rarest were of Dipper and McGucket. For whatever reason, these two either didn't bother make letters or weren't the type to fall in a portal. "Or maybe they both want to be left alone?"

She blinked, and her right eye started to smoke under the intense heat. Forcing Kelly to keel over and grip her eye as the letters floated around her. Smoke from her eye, holding onto them with annoyance. Through her right eye, she could always see something the one who spied. Well, what he saw, to be specific. A mirror was right in front of the demon. A man in his early 20s with brown curly hair broke through by antlers that seemed to either spill ink or petrol from every imperfection in the wood. His eyes were big, staring down the mirror for some kind of stability. Not to mention his long tail swiping at the air behind him. His clothes were still looking like a preacher from a school play. He looked incredibly annoyed. This was a very bad day. "Vulture, do I need to remind you not to insult the likes of me so blatantly."

Kelly wanted to scream that this was stupid, and she was allowed to ask questions. But she also knew better. Days like these, you needed to placate him. So Kelly still held the expression of pain and started to add a quiver to her voice. "I am sorry, I didn't mean for my words to cause harm. I was a fool to even think it in the first place."

The demon stared at his own reflection, closing his eyes too to be able to see her. He vaguely shook his head, making some his hair made of leaves fall to the bed surrounding him. "No, not a fool, just a bad day." He looked down at his hands and feet. His hands were now made of wood, and his feet were deer hooves. He hated this form with such wrath. But his eyes told that he knew better than to take her acting as proof. He didn't trust Bill anymore than she trusted him. He finally closed his eyes again.

Kelly sighed as the pain stopped. She breathed slowly and normally not to let the right eye see her weak. All the letters she had dropped were now safely in her hands, and she looked through them again. Filing them into various pockets in her messenger bag. Making sure she didn't put a letter for the wrong timeline or dimensions.

When she was finally done, she walked away until she could find a loophole in the dimension. Leaving it behind to give letters to family and friends.

This is Kelly Ness as a Mailman. They don't get uniforms because she is the only one.

My smol mini series about the drifting stars au is here!! Ft letters to Dipper!! May do more depending on the reception~

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k words

Summary: You were forgetting something. However the most frustrating part was you couldn't seem to remember what exactly it was that you were forgetting.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @bonefanatic! I know that it's Yandere!Batfam in the OG post but as soon as I read it this is just what it inspired. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

You were renowned for forgetting things.

You'd always forget to bring your keys the day when your mother happened to be running late. You'd forget your pencil case on the day of exams and forget your bus pass on the rare days that your father didn't give you a ride.

On sunny days you'd forget to wear your sunscreen. On rainy days, much like today, you'd forget your umbrella. Now, when you were a young girl, running back home through the rain wouldn't matter. In fact, you had vague memories of your feet splashing through puddles, hands shielding your face from the pelting rain while you and an old lover got soaked to the bone.

You could hardly even remember those days; just the sound of splashing puddles and the deep petrichor, the cold of the rain mixed with the warmth of someone's laughter...

A coo brought you out of your thoughts and your eyes met those of bright blue. The baby strapped to your chest gave you a semblance of a toothy smile, his teeth only beginning to come out and you returned it, leaning in to rub your nose against his, revelling in the giggles it brought out.

The sweet boy, who only ever saw you, was the reason you couldn't let yourself get wet, standing in the shade of an apartment building and choosing to wait out the rain.

You gave your baby a once over, making sure that he didn't get wet in your effort to reach the building. He looked fine and his clothing wasn't wet, although he did seem a little cold. You held his tiny hands in between your palms, repeating the process with his feet until you were satisfied.

The door of the building swung open and you immediately covered Thomas' ears to protect him from the cold breeze, letting him burrow his face into your chest.

In came a man that had to be larger than anyone you had ever seen in your life. Clearly, he had been caught in the rain, his boots were soaked and so was his leather jacket. He donned a motorcycle helmet, and your stomach lurched at the thought of him driving that out in this weather. Without realizing it, your eyes glanced over his figure, wondering if he had possibly gotten hurt.

When you brought your eyes back up from his muddy boots to his face you were slightly startled. When had he taken off his helmet? His blue eyes stared back at you, shock apparent on his features before he had schooled them back to monotony.

"Are you lost? I don't think you live here." His voice was low and gravelly, but it found a familiar place in the back of your head.

You gave him a small smile, "No, I'm just trying to wait out the rain. I forgot to bring an umbrella, and I really don't want my son to get sick."

His eyes glanced down to your son and you curiously watched as something swirled in his eyes. Longing perhaps? Maybe he had some baby fever? It didn't quite seem like that though...you just couldn't put your finger on it.

"Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"I already tried. The streets here are too narrow for a cab to drive through so I'd have to walk a bit before I'd reach the road."

He nodded, taking a beat before he responded, "Wait here."

And then he took off for the stairs and even though he looked relaxed, you saw him taking multiples stairs in a single step, resisting the curious urge to tell him to be careful and not to slip because of his wet shoes.

He didn't make you wait long, reappearing in less than 5 minutes with an umbrella and something else in his hands.

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Please, I insist. I don't think the rain is going to stop anytime soon and there isn't anywhere for you to sit down," He said earnestly, placing the umbrella in your hands, "I already called a cab. It should be waiting for you at the corner."

"Thank you, young man." You watched him run his fingers through the cute little tuft of white hair bashfully before he handed you something else—a fuzzy blanket patterned with bats.

You looked curiously up at him, "For the little guy. He looks cold."

You really wanted to refuse, but Thomas' nose and ears had begun to turn red from the chill and with the blanket he'd be better protected as you walked to the cab. So, you bundled up the baby in the cozy blanket and thanked the man again who said goodbye with a melancholic smile.

While taking the cab home, your fingers traced over the embroidered monogram in the corner of the blanket that looked like it was brand new.

T.W.

***

You don't know what it was about the travelling circus that had you so enraptured. There was just something about watching the acrobats soar through the sky like birds, as though they were weightless, that made you feel equal parts worried and in awe.

It was unusual. You didn't enjoy watching gymnasts while you grew up and you had certainly never visited a circus, and yet while sitting in the seats for the performance of Haly's travelling circus for the 4th time since they had arrived at Gotham, you couldn't help but wait in anticipation for the show to begin.

Thomas was clutched to your lap, every bit as excited as you were, when a man with dark hair and blue eyes—a common feature here in Gotham, it seemed—sat next to you.

You spared him a glance, only to find him staring back at you with a small smile and a cone of roasted chestnuts in his hand. He handed you a pair of ear protectors.

"They're handing it outside the tent—wouldn't want the little guy to hurt his ears."

You thanked him with a smile, placing them over Thomas' ears and giggling when he laughed at you pointing at the man who returned his toothy grin with one of his own.

"Would you like one?" He offered, holding out the warm chestnuts for you to take and you obliged, thanking him and relishing in the taste and the immediate warmth that spread through your body.

"So, what brings you to the circus?"

Your arms tightened around Thomas, resting your cheek on the top of his head as you contemplated the answer, "I don't know. I just like the acrobats. Every time I watch them, I feel comfortable, like I've been watching them my entire life. Which is weird because I've never seen acrobats before Haly's circus came to Gotham."

You looked back at him, "What about you?"

"My mom used to be an acrobat here. After I lost her, I like to visit, so I don't forget her." He explained, eyes scrolling across the bright colours of the circus, taking everything in. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

He looked down at Thomas, watching as the baby gave him an innocent grin that had returned with a sad smile and giving a delicate little pinch to his pudgy thigh before looking back up at you.

"I really don't want to lose my mom a second time."

***

One thing you really couldn't appreciate enough before having children was the freedom to shop for groceries all alone. Now, after having an infant, something as simple as stocking the fridge turned into a long and arduous feat.

You’d have to get Thomas dressed, make sure his nappy was changed, and time it just right—long enough since he’d eaten that you wouldn’t need to change him again, but not so long that he’d get hungry and need you to breastfeed him in the middle of the store.

Not only that, you'd also be stuck pushing a cart around with him strapped to your chest because he was still too young for the shopping cart.

And finally, the most torturous part of this whole excursion—the car loading. Most of your bags were heavy and packed full, and you couldn’t load them into the trunk with Thomas strapped to you.

So, you’d carefully place him in the car seat, turning on the engine and air conditioning to cool the car after its time baking in the parking lot. Then, you’d haul the heavy groceries into the trunk, turn off the car, take Thomas back out, return the trolley to its rightful place, and—once again—secure him in his car seat before finally heading home.

You stared at the cart full of groceries—enough to last you at least 3 weeks so you wouldn't have to make another trip for a while—trying to summon the energy to load the heavy items in the blasted vehicle.

"Mo—Ma'am?"

A young man approached you, a half-drunk coffee in his hand and your brows twitched. Just how many coffees had this boy had today? You shook your head of the thought. Why would you even care?

"Do you need some help?"

Giving him a polite smile, you shook your head, "I'm okay. Thank you, sweetie."

He gave you a sad smile, and it made you immediately want to take your words back and to give him the world instead. The feeling confused you even more. Why were you so concerned about him? And why did he look so sad after you refused his request? If anything, he should’ve been relieved that he wouldn’t have to do any work.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind." He tried again, this time placing his hand on the handle of the trolley, his hand just a hair away from yours. It was peculiar—your instinct for stranger-danger urged you to pull your hand away, and yet, you felt an equally strong urge to place your hand over his.

You smiled again, "I guess I'll take you up on your offer."

He was stronger than he looked. Despite his scrawny frame, he easily lifted your bags into the trunk, loading everything and shutting it in record time. Dusting off his hands with a proud smile, he turned to you as if expecting praise—only to deflate when he caught you watching him with a small, lingering smile.

It was as though he grew sadder with each passing second, his expression dimming as he gave you one last longing look before turning that same gaze to Thomas, "I’ll return the cart for you. Why don’t you strap him in?"

You nodded, thanking him again, "Thank you so much for your help."

Using Thomas’ little fist, you waved goodbye to the boy. He returned it with an expression far too tired for his young face. You resisted the urge to tell him to get a good night’s rest, instead watching him push the trolley away through your rearview mirror. A pang hit your chest at the sight of his slumped shoulders.

***

A figure collided with your back and you would have been knocked over if he had been any taller, however when you looked down, a young boy with dark hair and beautiful green eyes looked back up at you.

"Ummi..." He murmured, before he even had a chance to stop himself and you frowned in concern for this child who couldn't have been more than 9 years old who all of a sudden looked so small and unsure and something in your soul reached out for him.

You leaned down, well, as much as you could with a baby strapped to your chest, "Did you lose your mom, sweetheart?"

He flinched, eyes going wide and his bottom lip began to tremble in a way that made you want to hold him to your heart and soothe him, "Yes...I have lost my ummi...and I wish she'd come back....I miss her very much."

You reached out a hand before you could stop yourself, almost reaching for him to run your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails lightly against his scalp—

"Damian!"

Your hand froze an inch away as a man, slightly older than you, ran up to him. When your eyes met his, a rush of something surged through you—so intense and so sudden that there wasn’t even time for an epiphany.

All you knew was, you had met this man before.

Only, you couldn't remember when.

"I'm sorry about him. You know how kids are." The man with familiar blue eyes told you, flashing you a charming smile that had done an incredibly good job of hiding the misery underneath. And yet, you still saw past the mask. And still… you chose to look away.

You smiled up at him before glancing down at Thomas, now realizing why this curious stranger's eyes felt so familiar—your son looked up at you with almost identical ones, "I do know."

The man followed your gaze to the happy baby in your arms and you watched as the corner of his lips had dropped from the calculated smile he had worn. It was like he had frozen in time and the more you watched him, the more despondent his expression became.

His son—Damian. Why did that name sound so familiar?— looked up at him with concern, now grabbing his hand and tugging him away.

"Baba." He said softly, finally managing to knock the man out of his stupor.

"Oh," He finally spoke, looking down at his distressed son, "I'm sorry, miss. I hope my son didn't hurt you or the baby. If you need any medical bills covered, you can contact this number."

He handed you a business card and walked away before you could even argue about how absurd it was that you would ask for him to pay your medical bills over his adorable son bumping into you. It was an honest mistake!

You could only watch them walk away before your eyes looked down at the Wayne Enterprises business card.

"Bruce Wayne, CEO."

'Bruce'

You swore you had heard that name before.

And yet... you'd forgotten.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@eloriis

[shomatoriashi]

01/06/25; 06:03pm

sylus x fem.reader | non.mc

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @milkandstarlight

warnings: unedited; semi-public s-x.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

the boutique located in the n109 zone that sylus had taken you to was surrounded by dozens of high class women; those who were born with a silver spoon in their hands. now, being an average woman, you didn’t get to experience the luxuries of such a life until much later (the moment you fell in love with sylus as he swore to give you not only his heart, but anything and everything you desired as well.)

which was why you were here to begin with. even as you browsed the cute trinkets and jewelry from the store, you could feel the clerk’s eyes glaring daggers into you. not only were you receiving dark looks, but all the other employees were actively ignoring you, choosing instead to sink their claws into your lover as their saccharine voice asked if he needed any help.

“no, i’m fine, but my girlfriend could use some assistance.”

you momentarily bask in their crestfallen expression, watching as they tossed aside their curled hair before marching over to you. you had not even spoken a single word when the catty employee leans in to harshly whisper in your ear, “sorry, but i believe these cute jewels are just way too expensive for the likes of you. after all, having you wear our brand would be such a disgrace.”

as swiftly as she came, she stomps away from you, her laughter echoing throughout the store as she went to gossip with her coworkers over what had just transpired. manicured nails point at you, as their hushed whispers openly mocked you as they spoke about how unfit you were to be with mr. sylus.

grateful that sylus was entirely focused on the contents of his phone, you decided to get a tiny bit of revenge by hatching an almost diabolical plan. instead of looking at the various rings and necklaces, you cling onto sylus’s arms and point toward the direction of the section that housed all of the lingeries.

“walk me over there?” you point a finger over at where the various lingeries were on display, watching as sylus’s eyebrows go up in amusement.

“my, i wanted to take you here in order to help treat yourself. i didn’t think that i would receive a treat as well, little dove.”

you tried to appear as innocuous as possible, jutting your lips out into a pretty pout as you pulled sylus along. “but of course, i’m always willing to spoil you, sy.”

with sylus practically following you around (like a lost puppy), you have him talk to the lady manning the fitting rooms, asking him to get a key for one of the rooms as you made your selection alone. giving you a chaste kiss, he obeys your command and leaves you to your own devices-

which was exactly what you wanted to happen.

your eyes scan the various lingeries, searching for the perfect one that would set sylus off-

and within mere minutes, you found one.

the material of the flimsy piece left little to the imagination, and you could just picture the way your perky nipples would strain against such pretty lace while wrapping the most intimate part of you in ribbons-

this is the one.

folding the lingerie, you head towards the fitting rooms, seeing sylus waiting for you as he handed you the key. blowing him a kiss, you sweetly ask him to wait for you before locking yourself into the single room. taking a moment to admire such a spacious area, you muse to yourself at how this place felt like a totally different world before getting to work. putting your purse aside, you hurriedly shimmy out of your clothes, making sure you were bare before sliding on the lingerie, feeling the silk fabric fit your form to perfection. admiring yourself in the mirror, you put on a fresh coat of lip gloss while fixing your hair-

ready for sylus to make his move.

you open the door, standing seductively against it while whispering sylus’s name. he looks away from his phone, meeting your sultry gaze as his eyes widened with shock. crimson irises were felt raking down your form, making you giggle.

“like what you see, sy?”

yet the onychinus leader doesn’t answer you, choosing instead to march into your fitting room while slamming the door shut. “do i like what i see? kitten, you are absolutely divine.” you feel the way his powerful hands wrap around your waist before picking you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as you felt the way his clothed erection strained against you-

making you break out into a grin when you realized you had him; hook, line, and sinker.

he presses his hot lips press against the base of your throat when he pins you against the wall, ready to slide off your lingerie when you stopped him. “no… i want to keep this pretty lace on, just for you, sy.”

a low growl escapes from sylus, and you felt him lower his large hand between your legs before moving the ribbons that cover your center off to the side. with a gasp, you felt his large finger slowly drive itself into your wet heat before making a pumping motion. “you’re driving me crazy, love.”

hiding his face within the curve of your neck, sylus continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, drawing out breathy moans that seemed to echo throughout the boutique. with your arms wrapped around his neck, you gently grind your cunt against his fingertips while whispering in his ear, “do i feel good, wrapped around your fingers like this?”

a broken groan was heard coming from sylus when he removed his now soaked fingers out of your core, licking them clean briefly before adjusting his hold on you. he presses your chest against the walls now, making you gasp when you heard the shifting of fabric coming from behind you.

even when you weren’t able to see him, you could feel him- the sensation of hot velvet pressing against your soaked cunt before slowly sheathing itself inside of you. your gasps quickly morph into moans when sylus began to pound his cock into you, literally fucking you into the wall.

“i’m so fucking obsessed with you.” his hot whispers were all you could hear, feeling sylus press lingering kisses against your damp skin. you felt each new angle of his cock slamming back into you, causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you each time as your walls eagerly take in every inch he had to offer.

somehow, you were able to find your voice, begging him to turn you around. “l-let me look at you, sy… i want to see you as i fall apart for you.”

a low hiss was heard as sylus bites down against the lobe of your ear, heeding your command when he hurriedly pulls out of you. the sudden loss of him causes you to sob in response, with sylus gripping at your waist before allowing your back to meet the wall once more. settling himself between your thighs, sylus doesn’t waste another second when he completely impales his cock back into you.

your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, coaxing your lover to go even deeper as you felt your breasts bounce with his every movement. not even caring that you were not alone while in the midst of this expensive boutique, you allow your moans and his grunts to echo throughout the space, your back arching when you felt the way your walls sweetly wrapped around sylus’s cock before milking him for all he was worth.

spurts of his seed were felt escaping your walls as they stained at the lace and ribbons of the lingerie, with sylus letting out a content grunt. his hips sloppily thrust into you, making sure he was completely emptied before resting his weight against your shoulder. by now, you were both panting, feeling the sweat run down your respective forms as sylus pressed a lingering kiss against your shoulder.

keeping your hips still, sylus gently pulls out of you, and you moan when you felt the evidence of your respective release further stain the lingerie. sylus takes a step back, admiring how he had completely wrecked you and the flimsy fabric with an appreciative hum. as he adjusts himself (placing his softened cock back into the confines of his boxers), you watch as he zips up his pants before gathering your crumpled clothes from the ground.

not even allowing you to remove the utterly ruined lingerie, sylus helps you put on your clothes while pocketing your panties. once your blouse was on, you watch as sylus shoves your bra into the confines of your purse, hands automatically going around your waist as he presses a lingering kiss on your temple.

“keep that purchase on you; i’ll pay for it as we walk out- i’m far from being done with you, kitten.”

unlocking the door to the fitting room, sylus grabs the key and his wallet, coming face to face with a now blushing woman that had a wide eyed gaze. he tosses a few bills at her as payment for your latest purchase all while giving your backside a firm smack!

as you both walk out of the boutique, you basked in everyone’s shocked expression (red face and all!) while showing them your own, victorious smile-

having the leader of onychinus as your lover meant that you would always have free reign to do whatever you wished to do (since everyone feared him and would never wish to go against him), and even if you weren’t born with the world given to you on a silver platter-

sylus was all too willing to fix that and make it a reality for you.

end notes: so i had a n a u g h t y daydream earlier and decided to make it a r e a l i t y… (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[rootedinrevisions]

Worth More than Gold

SUMMARY: Glen Powell has asked you, his long-time friend and secret crush to be his date to the Golden Globes. The evening is filled with glitz, glamour, and the intoxicating spark of possibilities - both on the red carpet and behind the scene. And at the end of the day Glen may not have won the Golden Globe, but he just might have won something better—you.

A/N: Glen's look at the Golden Globes did things to me and gave me so many ideas. This will probably be the last fic I do for the GG and I'm going to try to get back on track with my WIPs and Requests.

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think! I love seeing your comments and reblogs! I seriously smile and get all giddy like a little kid when I get a notification from you guys so please let me know what I think.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k

TAGS: In Comments.

The hotel room was a whirlwind of chaos, a perfect reflection of Glen’s pre-event energy. The plush carpet was littered with tissue paper from a last-minute gift delivery, a shoe box sat abandoned near the bed, and the sleek black tie Glen had decided to forego tonight was somehow draped over a lampshade.

Glen himself was in the middle of the room, pacing in socks and dress pants, his phone pressed to his ear. “Listen, I’m just saying, Texas football isn’t a sport—it’s a religion,” he declared, his Texas drawl warming the edges of his words. “And if the Longhorns take the game against Ohio State this week, we’re coming for that national title.”

He paused, evidently listening to the journalist on the other end of the call, then grinned as he gestured animatedly with his free hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know you want to talk about the nomination. But did you see last weekend’s game? That last play in the second overtime?”

Across the room, you sat curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone but only half-paying attention to the screen. Watching Glen charm his way through an interview about his career or recent projects while managing to somehow steer the conversation to Texas football was nothing new.

“Cufflinks,” said Warren, the stylist ensuring Glen looked red-carpet ready. Warren stood to the side, arms crossed with the patience of someone who’d dealt with a dozen “Glen Powells” before.

“They’re in the pocket of your tux,” you called without looking up, your voice laced with playful exasperation. “Right where I told you I put them earlier.”

Glen froze mid-gesture, patting down his pants pocket first before moving to his jacket. When his fingers closed around the cufflinks, he shot you a sheepish grin. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he mouthed, before turning his attention back to his call. “Listen, I gotta wrap this up. Can I call you tomorrow and we’ll finish this?” he asked the journalist.

With that, he hung up and turned to the room, raking a hand through his neatly-styled hair. “You believe this?” He said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’m on deadline and trying to get out the door for one of the biggest nights of my life. And GQ wants to talk about…wardrobe and clothes and who I’m wearing.”

Warren arched a brow, adjusting the velvet Armani jacket on its hanger. “Wardrobe is why I’m here, Glen,” he said with a grin. “Now, if you could refrain from wrinkling this masterpiece, we might actually get you to the event looking like a winner.”

You snorted, rising from the couch. “Poor you,” you teased, brushing imaginary lint off your own shirt. “Must be so hard being adored by millions while wearing designer clothes.”

Glen rolled his eyes and snorted, stepping closer as the stylist fussed with his cummerbund. “Hey, I’m counting on you to keep me sane tonight,” he said, half-serious as he began to tug at the cuffs of his shirt. “You’re my buffer.”

“Buffer?” you repeated, arching a brow. “That’s what I’m here for? Not moral support—just as a human barrier between you and Hollywood?”

“Exactly,” he deadpanned, his grin widening. “You’re overqualified for the job, though.”

You stepped forward, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt, your fingers moving with practiced ease over the slick fabric. Glen watched you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Okay, be honest,” he said, tilting his chin slightly. “One button or two undone? What’s the vibe tonight?”

You paused, letting your gaze drop to the open collar of his shirt, catching a glimpse of the chest hair peeking out.

“One,” you said decisively, reaching up to fasten the second button. “Two buttons undone is too much chest hair. You’re going to a red carpet, not auditioning for a ‘70s cop show.”

He laughed, the rich sound filling the room as he placed his hands on his hips. “Hey, my chest hair is a crowd-pleaser,” he countered, feigning offense. “You don’t know how many compliments I’ve gotten on this chest.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a laugh. “Please never say that to me again.”

He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Admit it. You’re just jealous you can’t pull this off.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a playful tug. “Oh, please. If I wanted to show off chest hair, I’d buy a faux-fur vest and call it a day.”

“Savage,” he said, clutching his chest as though you’d wounded him. “You’ve got jokes tonight, huh?”

“Somebody has to keep your ego in check,” you replied, stepping back to inspect your work. “And you make it so easy.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “Well, I’ll have you know, Warren said I was rocking this look,” he said, gesturing toward the stylist, who was busy folding tissue paper into one of the garment bags.

Warren didn’t even look up. “Warren also said to stop touching your shirt or you’ll wrinkle it,” he replied dryly, earning a snort from you and an exaggerated groan from Glen.

“Fine,” Glen said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No more touching. But if I get to the carpet and I’m not turning heads, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, you’ll turn heads,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a once-over. “If not for the suit, then definitely for whatever ridiculous sound bite you give on the carpet. You’re physically incapable of being boring, remember?”

He grinned, stepping closer so the space between you was almost nonexistent. “Is that a compliment?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly.

You tilted your head, refusing to let him win. “Don’t get used to it, Cowboy.”

“Ah, there it is,” he said, leaning back with a laugh. “The nickname. I knew it was coming.”

You shrugged. “If the boots fit…”

Glen slid the custom velvet Armani tux jacket over his broad shoulders, the deep midnight-black fabric catching the light in subtle, luxurious waves. He tugged at the lapels, ensuring everything was sitting perfectly, before stepping back with an air of casual confidence.

“Well?” he asked, doing a quick spin on his heels, arms spread out theatrically. “What do you think? Too much? Not enough?”

You leaned back slightly, arms crossed, pretending to appraise him critically, but your expression betrayed you. Your eyes swept over him, taking in every detail—the sharp tailoring that hugged his frame perfectly, the structured cut of the jacket emphasizing his frame, and the way the silk shirt beneath hinted at the faintest trail of chest hair.

The stylist had done a remarkable job on his hair, taming the usual tousled locks into something sleek yet effortlessly natural. And the stubble—God, the stubble. He hadn’t bothered to shave completely, leaving just enough scruff to lend him a rugged edge that, if you were honest, made him look even more attractive.

The all-black ensemble was a bold choice, but it worked. The mix of textures—the smooth silk of the shirt, the luxurious velvet of the jacket, and the matte sheen of the tailored trousers—created a look that was polished yet unmistakably Glen.

“You clean up nice,” you finally said, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you took him in from head to toe. “I mean, you almost look like a proper gentleman.”

“Almost?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as he turned back toward the mirror, pretending to check himself out.

“Well, the stubble kind of ruins the whole gentleman thing,” you quipped, biting back a laugh.

“Ruin it?” Glen turned to face you again, his voice dripping with mock offense. “The stubble is the pièce de résistance, thank you very much.” He ran a hand over his jaw, grinning when he saw the way your gaze briefly followed the movement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “Sure it is. But seriously, you look good, Glen. The best I’ve seen you look in a while.”

For a moment, his grin softened, and his eyes caught yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, more sincerely this time. “You’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer than usual, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he broke the moment with his signature charm. “Well, I have to. You’re the one who’ll have to be seen with me all night. Can’t embarrass you on your first red carpet.”

You glanced at the clock and froze. Less than an hour until you were supposed to be ready and out the door. Helping Glen finish getting ready had been fun—maybe a little too fun, you realized now, as time ticked away faster than you’d expected.

“I need to go get ready,” you said abruptly, stepping back and pointing toward the door.

Glen smirked, his hands casually adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Go on, Cinderella. Clock’s ticking.”

Without another word, you bolted for your room next door, already running through a mental checklist of what needed to happen to make yourself red carpet-ready in under an hour. Once inside, you kicked the door shut behind you and headed straight for the bathroom. Flicking on the light, you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Okay. Hair. Makeup. Dress. You could do this. Right?

You pulled your hair loose from the lazy ponytail it had been in all day, raking your fingers through it and trying to decide if it would look better up or down. Your eyes darted to the neckline of the dress still hanging on the back of the closet door, but you didn’t have time to figure out how to make everything match. You groaned, pressing your hands to your face.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Hello?” you called out, cautiously heading toward the door and cracking it open.

Standing there were two members of Glen’s glam squad—one holding a bag of makeup brushes and palettes, the other with a small suitcase of hair tools.

“Mr. Powell asked us to check on you,” the makeup artist said with a kind smile. “He thought you might be running behind.”

You blinked at them, momentarily speechless. “He... sent you?”

The hairstylist nodded. “He figured you might need a little help. Mind if we come in?”

You stepped aside to let them in, still processing Glen’s uncanny ability to predict you’d be panicking. “Sorry about the mess,” you admitted, glancing at the clock again. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Don’t worry,” the makeup artist said, already setting up her supplies on the bathroom counter. “We’ve got this. Can we see the dress? It’ll help us figure out the best look for you.”

You grabbed the garment bag from the closet and unzipped it, revealing the dress inside. You’d picked it out weeks ago, but standing there now, you suddenly second-guessed everything about it.

The hairstylist tilted his head thoughtfully, taking in the neckline and cut. “With this neckline, I’d suggest pulling your hair up—something elegant but not overdone. It’ll show off your shoulders and collarbone beautifully.”

You nodded, trusting his expertise. “That sounds perfect.”

“And for makeup,” the other stylist added, “we’ll keep it timeless—focus on your eyes, a little shimmer, and a soft lip. Nothing too bold, just enough to complement the dress and the hair.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, exhaling as you sat down.

With practiced efficiency, they got to work. The hairstylist began gathering your hair into an elegant style that framed your face while showcasing the neckline of the dress. Meanwhile, the makeup artist brushed soft gold tones onto your lids, added a touch of liner to define your eyes, and blended everything seamlessly. A quick swipe of lipstick finished the look.

You watched the transformation in the mirror, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. By the time they stepped back to admire their handiwork, you felt like a completely different person.

“Done in thirty minutes, just like we promised,” the hairstylist said with a grin.

You stood, giving them both a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously, I wouldn’t have made it without you—or Glen, apparently.”

The makeup artist laughed. “He seemed pretty confident you’d need backup. Smart guy.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, thinking about his effortless charm and how much he looked out for you. “He really is.”

After the hairstylist and makeup artist left, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, a deep breath escaping your lips. You could do this.

You reached for the dress, still hanging from its garment bag, and carefully unzipped it. The soft fabric slid through your fingers as you pulled it off the hanger, feeling a flutter of nerves as you held it up in front of you.

The dress was simple, yet elegant, hugging every curve in a way that made you second-guess your choice. But it was beautiful.

With your heart racing a little, you slipped the dress on. You paused to glance at the mirror as you tugged the fabric up your body, hoping everything would fall into place.

But it didn’t.

The zipper snagged halfway up your lower back. You tugged a little harder, but it didn’t budge. Panic settled in your chest. You didn’t want to rip the fabric or make a scene, but there was no way to finish getting ready if you couldn’t zip the dress.

Your fingers fumbled for your phone, dialing Glen’s number before you could think twice. The seconds ticked by slowly, and your nerves only heightened with every ring.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said the moment he answered. Your voice trembled slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm. “I need help. The zipper on the dress is stuck, and I can’t get it up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m coming right over,” Glen’s voice was calm, reassuring. You could almost hear the smile in his tone.

The call ended quickly, and before you knew it, there was a soft knock at your door. You quickly pulled the front of the dress to your chest and peeked out, your eyes meeting Glen’s as you opened the door just a crack. His presence was as commanding as ever, but now, standing there, you felt exposed.

“Hey,” you greeted him, offering a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, raising an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to step inside.

As he entered, you turned, giving him full view of the situation. The dress clung tightly to your body, and you were sure your back looked exposed in the tight fabric. A slight blush crept across your cheeks as your fingers instinctively tugged at the fabric.

“Relax,” Glen said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved behind you and gently grasped the zipper. 

After a few tugs and a bit of effort, he managed to get it unstuck, smoothly pulling it the rest of the way up. The dress fit perfectly once it was zipped all the way.

Glen stepped back with a satisfied nod, patting your hip gently. “All good. You’re all set now.”

You took a deep breath, your nerves slightly eased but still there. With a nervous smile, you smoothed the front of your dress down, trying to calm yourself before glancing back at him.

“Do I look okay?” you asked quietly, suddenly unsure of how you appeared.

Glen gave you a slow once-over, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than you expected. Then, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “Seriously. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest easing. Glen’s words meant more than you realized, and as he gave you that smile, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Once you were fully ready, feeling the weight of the evening ahead, Glen offered you a reassuring smile as he adjusted his jacket one last time. He gave you a soft nod, signaling that it was time to go.

Together, you left the suite, the sound of your heels echoing in the hallway as you walked side by side toward the elevator. Glen pressed the button, standing close enough to be a silent but steady presence. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he moved—like he was born to own every room he entered, even though his demeanor was always so grounded.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Glen stepped aside, letting you enter first. When you reached the lobby, the bustle of the hotel faded in comparison to the calm, quiet space Glen seemed to create around the two of you. He was the kind of person who moved with purpose, but never rushed—always thoughtful, always present.

As you made your way toward the entrance, he gave a quiet wave to a few people who greeted him, but he kept his focus on you, his hand close to your lower back as if guiding you through the crowd.

Outside, a sleek black car waited by the curb, the driver standing at attention. Glen held the door open for you with a courteous nod, his hand outstretched to assist you into the back seat.

You smiled, appreciating the little things—his attention to detail, the way he never made you feel like you were inconveniencing him. You slid into the seat, and as you did, Glen quickly followed, settling next to you with a quiet grace that was all him.

The driver closed the door, and the car began to move smoothly through the streets, the city lights reflecting off the tinted windows. The buzz of the evening began to settle into a comfortable rhythm, and Glen turned his attention to you with a soft look.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his tone light but sincere. He glanced down at your dress, the slight gleam in his eyes making you feel all the more seen. “You’re gonna turn heads tonight, no doubt about it.”

You smiled, trying to play it cool, but his words still made your stomach flutter. “I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady. 

The car glided through the streets, the hum of the engine and the soft clink of the streetlights outside giving you a sense of distance from the chaos of the night ahead. Your fingers nervously drummed on the fabric of your dress, your gaze flickering from the passing city lights to the reflection of yourself in the window.

Glen noticed the subtle tension in your posture and the way your fingers twitched, like they couldn’t quite settle. His sharp eyes, attuned to every little shift in your mood, moved over to you. He shifted closer, his hand reaching across the space between you with ease, brushing lightly over your fingers before gently taking your hand in his.

"You're going to be fine," he said, his voice low, teasing but gentle, as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, smoothing away any remnants of tension. "Just smile and wave, Penguin. You’ve got this."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, the warmth of his hand in yours bringing a little bit of ease. “Penguin?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow, feeling the tension in your shoulders release with that soft chuckle.

He grinned at you, the kind of smile that melted any nervous edge. “Yeah, Penguin. You know—Madagascar. Smile and wave boys. Smile and wave.” He gave your hand a playful tug, the humor in his eyes lighting up.

You shook your head, but the tension you’d carried with you slowly began to melt. Glen had that way about him—without even trying, he made things feel easy, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His confidence was infectious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you could pull this off.

The car hit a smooth turn, the soft hum of the tires filling the silence. You glanced at Glen, his easy grin still in place, his hand steady in yours. There was something about his presence—something grounding, comforting. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as you let the last bits of tension drain away.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Glen glanced down at you, his expression softening. He didn’t move, didn’t shift away—he just stayed still, letting you rest there. His thumb continued its soothing motion across the back of your hand, and he tilted his head slightly toward yours.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice warm and steady. "You know I’ve got you."

For a moment, the world outside the car faded away. It was just the two of you, a quiet moment that reminded you why Glen was your best friend. His support, his calm energy—it was all you needed to take a deep breath and believe in yourself again.

As the car slowed to a stop, signaling your arrival at the red carpet, you felt ready. Maybe it was the way Glen always knew how to bring you back to yourself, or maybe it was just the fact that he was there beside you, exactly where he always seemed to be when you needed him most.

You stole a quick glance at Glen, catching the way his gaze softened as he looked back at you, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours.

“Hey,” he said, the tone shifting just a little, serious but with the same undertone of care. “You’re gonna be great, okay? And if you need me to do anything, I’m right here. Just... be you.”

Glen gave your hand one last squeeze, a reassuring pressure that grounded you, and you suddenly felt like you could take on the world.

The driver opened the door, and the bright lights of the red carpet began to stretch ahead of you, already swirling with flashes and faces, the hum of excitement palpable in the air. Glen leaned toward you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of your neck.

“You’re gonna shine tonight,” he said quietly, his voice filled with confidence, making you believe it for the first time.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, then flashed him a grin. “Thanks, Glen.”

He winked. “Anytime, Penguin. Let’s go make some memories.”

With that, you stepped out of the car, Glen’s hand still firmly in yours, ready to face whatever the night would bring—with him by your side, you felt ready for anything.

The roar of the red carpet hit you the moment you stepped out of the car. A wall of flashing lights and the constant hum of voices calling out names created a dizzying cacophony. For a second, you froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The chaos seemed endless, but Glen’s steady hand on the small of your back was the anchor you needed.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice warm and reassuring, almost lost in the noise. He guided you forward with a gentle pressure, his touch never faltering.

Reporters shouted his name, cameras clicked furiously, and fans called out from behind the barriers. Glen’s demeanor shifted effortlessly, the easy confidence you admired about him coming to life under the scrutiny. But even as he navigated the chaos like a pro, his focus never strayed far from you.

When a particularly eager photographer stepped too close, Glen instinctively pulled you in, lacing your arm through his. The motion was protective yet natural, as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “You doing okay so far?”

You nodded, the nerves still simmering but far less overwhelming with Glen beside you. “Yeah. It’s just... a lot.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers giving your arm a light squeeze. “It’s always a lot. Just keep smiling and don’t trip. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Moments later, you were ushered to the line of reporters waiting for interviews. Glen kept you close, his hand returning to your back as he led you toward the first microphone. The journalist’s attention immediately shifted to him, questions about his latest project firing off one after another.

“This is Glen Powell, looking dapper as always! Who’s your stunning guest tonight?” one reporter asked, her eyes flicking to you with interest.

Glen grinned, that signature charm lighting up his face. “This,” he said, his voice full of pride, “is the best friend who keeps me sane.” He glanced at you, his expression softening as if to emphasize his words.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as the reporter laughed. “Keeping Glen Powell on track sounds like a full-time job!”

“You have no idea,” you replied, finding your confidence in the moment. Glen chuckled beside you, his presence like a shield against the overwhelming spotlight.

The interviews continued, with Glen effortlessly steering the attention toward his projects while making sure you felt included. Whenever he wasn’t speaking, his hand either rested lightly on your back or your arm stayed looped through his. The gesture was subtle, but it kept you grounded, a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

In a rare lull between interviews, Glen turned to you, his expression softening as the frenzy of the red carpet seemed to momentarily fade into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the noise around you.

You looked up at him, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of the evening. 

“Hey,” you replied, a little breathless.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of your updo from your face, his fingers lingering just slightly longer than necessary. His touch was light, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you. His eyes searched yours, the usual glint of mischief replaced with something quieter, more sincere. “You okay?”

The simple question held weight, as if he wasn’t just asking about the moment but something deeper. You nodded, your voice catching slightly as you said, “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, his hand dropping back to his side, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger. “Good. Can’t have my Penguin falling apart on me now.”

The moment hung between you, brief but charged with an unspoken connection that neither of you dared to address. Then the chaos of the red carpet surged back to life, pulling you both out of it.

“Ready to keep going?” Glen asked, his tone light again as he gestured toward the next line of reporters.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “Let’s do it.”

With your arm resting gently on his, Glen led you forward, his confidence bolstering your own. And as the night unfolded, you realized that no matter how overwhelming the evening became, you’d be okay—with Glen by your side.

The ballroom was a masterpiece of elegance, bathed in soft, golden light with tables draped in white linens and adorned with extravagant floral centerpieces. Each table bore name cards in ornate calligraphy, indicating an impressive roster of directors, actors, and other Hollywood heavyweights.

Glen pulled out your chair for you before taking his seat beside you, leaning in briefly to whisper, “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

You looked at Glen with a soft smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Powell.”

Within moments, the table began filling with familiar faces. To your left sat Richard Linklater himself, his unassuming charm making you feel more at ease than you’d expected. Across the table, a notable actress you’d only ever seen on-screen chatted animatedly with Glen, who was effortlessly charismatic as always.

“Glen,” Richard said with a warm smile, his Texan drawl coming through as he gestured toward you. “You didn’t introduce me to your lovely guest.”

Glen straightened, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as he turned to you. “Richard, this is the best friend who keeps me sane—and who’s also had to deal with my Dazed and Confused impression far too many times.”

You laughed lightly, shaking Richard’s hand. “It’s true. If I hear him say, ‘Alright, alright, alright,’ one more time, I might disown him.”

Richard chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A classic never dies, though, does it?”

“I suppose not,” you conceded with a grin.

The quick banter caught the attention of the others at the table, who joined the conversation with playful remarks of their own. You held your own with ease, even managing to get a genuine laugh out of the actress across from you after a comment about the absurdity of some press junket questions.

Glen, sitting beside you, watched the exchanges with a kind of quiet pride, his gaze lingering on you whenever you spoke. At one point, he leaned closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re killing it. Remind me again—why am I not bringing you to all of these things?”

You smirked, taking a sip of water to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Because you know I’d upstage you.”

“Touché,” he said with a soft laugh, nudging your shoulder playfully.

As the dinner continued, Glen made sure to include you in every conversation, subtly steering the spotlight toward you when someone asked about his current projects. You found yourself talking about Glen’s work ethic and how he somehow managed to juggle it all without losing his sense of humor.

“Sounds like you know him pretty well,” Richard observed with a knowing smile.

“I sure hope so after I’ve put up with him for all these years,” you replied, glancing at Glen. “Someone has to keep him humble.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Glen shook his head, though the unmistakable warmth in his expression betrayed how much he loved every second of it.

When dessert was served—an artfully plated creation that was almost too pretty to eat—Glen leaned in once more, his tone playful but sincere. “See? Told you you’d be great.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, a smile tugging at your lips. “Not bad for someone who almost didn’t make it out of the hotel room.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening, “you belong here, you know.”

The weight of his words settled between you, a quiet affirmation that carried more meaning than the playful banter that had preceded it. You nodded, the nerves you’d been holding onto finally beginning to ease.

The awards show was nothing short of spectacular, a seamless blend of glamour, artistry, and showmanship. The host kept the audience entertained with clever quips and light-hearted jokes, while presenters took the stage to announce the winners in a variety of categories. The room buzzed with energy as names were called, winners delivered heartfelt speeches, and cameras panned over the crowd of celebrities.

Sitting beside Glen, you couldn’t help but notice how his leg bounced slightly under the table, a telltale sign of his nerves. Despite the outward appearance of ease he projected, you knew him well enough to see through it. Every now and then, his hand brushed his jawline, the slight stubble catching the light, as he glanced at the stage and back at you with an almost imperceptible smile.

You leaned closer to him during a quieter moment. “How are you holding up?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the applause filling the room.

“Better with you here,” he replied, his tone casual but sincere. The weight of his words sent a gentle warmth through you, grounding you as much as it did him.

As the night progressed, Glen laughed at the host’s jokes and applauded the winners, though you could feel his anticipation building as his category grew closer. 

The glitz and chatter around you seemed to blur as the presenter finally took the stage to announce the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy. 

You felt Glen shift in his seat, his back straightening as his name was called alongside the other nominees. His hand brushed his thigh, and you noticed him take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. Instinctively, you leaned in just enough so your shoulder lightly pressed against his, a silent reminder that you were right there with him.

The presenter opened the envelope, the seconds stretching impossibly long. “And the award goes to... Sebastian Stan!”

The room erupted into applause as Sebastian rose from his seat, making his way to the stage. You clapped along with everyone else, but the knot of disappointment in your chest was impossible to ignore. Letting out a small, defeated breath, you glanced over at Glen.

He was smiling politely, clapping for Sebastian, but you saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. The kind of flicker only someone who truly knew him could catch. Others at the table offered their own words of encouragement, but Glen only nodded politely, his attention still half-focused on the stage.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your voice low and meant just for him. “You’re still the most talented guy in the room.”

You reached over, resting your hand gently on his knee under the table, offering him the kind of comfort words alone couldn’t provide. For a moment, his gaze dropped to your hand, then back to your face. A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his hand briefly covered yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning.

Throughout the rest of the show, Glen leaned into your presence, subtly relying on you to keep him grounded. You noticed the way his body gradually relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as the night continued. 

When another winner gave a particularly heartfelt speech, Glen turned to you with a quiet chuckle. “At least I don’t have to worry about tripping on the way to the stage.”

You laughed softly, the sound drawing out a more genuine smile from him. “See? There’s always a silver lining.”

By the time the final award was announced and the audience began filtering out of the theater, Glen seemed more at ease. 

As the two of you stood to leave, he placed a hand on your back, guiding you through the crowd. “Thanks for keeping me sane tonight,” he said, his voice low but warm.

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the unspoken connection between you deepen as the evening came to a close.

The after-party was everything you expected it to be: glamorous, extravagant, and a little overwhelming. The main Golden Globes after-party felt less like a celebration and more like a carefully orchestrated networking event. The room was packed with A-list celebrities, producers, directors, and journalists, each armed with a drink in one hand and a carefully curated smile.

Music thumped in the background, but it barely registered over the hum of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Glen stayed by your side at first, introducing you to a few people here and there. You exchanged pleasantries with actors whose faces you recognized from the big screen and smiled politely at directors whose names you tried not to forget. 

But before long, Glen was pulled away, whisked from one conversation to the next like the star of the evening. You watched as he posed for pictures, his easy charm making every interaction look effortless. He’d glance back at you occasionally, offering a reassuring smile or a quick wink, but you could tell even he was beginning to feel the strain of the crowd.

You nursed a drink at the edge of the room, trying to stay out of the way while still keeping Glen in your sights. It was easy to lose track of time amidst the chaos, but the constant flow of strangers and small talk started to take its toll. The energy in the room felt electric and draining all at once, and you found yourself wishing for a quieter corner to catch your breath.

After what felt like hours, Glen appeared at your side, his hand lightly brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise around you. “This is… a lot, huh?”

You nodded, letting out a small laugh. “It’s a little overwhelming. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve smiled so much tonight my face might be stuck this way,” he joked, though there was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He glanced around the room, then back at you. “What do you say we head to my party? I think I’ve shaken enough hands and posed for enough pictures to last a lifetime.”

The suggestion was like a lifeline, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Glen’s shoulders relaxed visibly at your answer, and he gave you a small, grateful smile. He offered you his arm, the gesture both protective and grounding as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Despite the noise and flashing cameras still lingering near the doorway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as you stepped out into the cool night air.

The car ride to the rooftop bar was quiet, a welcome change from the chaos of the Golden Globes after-party. Glen leaned back against the seat, his shirt now unbuttoned to a second button and the faintest hint of exhaustion in his expression.

You glanced at him, smiling softly. “You know, most people would just go to bed after a night like this. Not go to another party.”

Glen chuckled, his head turning toward you. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

When the car pulled up to the rooftop bar, Glen stepped out first, turning back to offer you his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go see everyone.”

The rooftop bar was stunning, its perimeter lined with fairy lights that cast a warm, golden glow. The city skyline sparkled in the distance, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. Glen had rented the entire space, and as the two of you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cheerful buzz of conversation.

His parents were the first to spot you, their faces lighting up as they hurried over to greet Glen with warm hugs and congratulations. 

His mom pulled you into an embrace as well, her voice filled with genuine affection. “You look stunning tonight, sweetheart. And thank you for taking care of our boy out there.”

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the ease that came with being around Glen’s family.

You scanned the room and spotted Leslie, Glen’s younger sister, waving excitedly from across the bar. She was all smiles as she made her way over, throwing her arms around you in a hug. 

“It’s been forever!” she exclaimed, pulling back to give you a once-over. “You look amazing! And that dress—ugh, you’re killing me.”

“You’re one to talk,” you teased, taking in her own dress. “You look incredible.”

Glen was quickly pulled into conversations with friends and other guests, his charm and warmth on full display as he moved through the room. You stayed behind with Leslie, the two of you settling into a quieter corner of the bar.

“So,” you said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tell me everything about the engagement. I need details.”

Leslie’s face lit up, and she launched into a detailed recounting of the proposal—how her fiancé had asked, the secret planning, how he included her friends and family in on the surprise. She showed you the ring, a design that perfectly suited her, and the two of you gushed over wedding plans.

“I’m thinking late spring,” Leslie said, twirling her glass of wine between her fingers. “Something outdoors, simple but elegant. Glen keeps trying to offer to pay for everything, but I want to keep it low-key.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, smiling. “And knowing Glen, he’ll find a way to contribute whether you want him to or not.”

Leslie laughed, nodding. “Oh, I know. He’s the best, though. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Yeah, we really are.” Your gaze drifted across the room to where Glen was laughing with a small group of friends, his easy smile making your own lips curve upward. His hand was resting casually in the pocket of his suit pants.

“You’ve got that look again,” Leslie said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You blinked, snapping your gaze back to her. “What look?”

She grinned knowingly and nudged your arm with her elbow. “The ‘I’m totally into Glen but I’ll never admit it’ look.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? That’s ridiculous,” you said quickly, trying to laugh it off. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh-huh,” Leslie said, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. “Sure I am.”

You rolled your eyes, determined to brush off her teasing. “He’s my best friend, Les. That’s-” But before you could finish your sentence, Glen glanced over at the two of you. His eyes found yours across the room, and when he smiled—soft, warm, and undeniably genuine—you felt your words falter. 

You didn’t even realize you had stopped speaking until Leslie let out a low chuckle.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, barely containing her laughter. “You’ve got it bad.”

Realizing what just happened, you tore your gaze away from Glen, your face burning. 

“I do not,” you muttered, but the weak protest only made Leslie laugh harder.

She shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Honestly, I’ve suspected this for years, but that little moment right there? Total confirmation.”

“Okay, enough,” you said, waving your hands as if to physically push the conversation away. “Let’s focus less on your brother and my nonexistent love life. Let’s get back to your wedding.”

Leslie just smirked, clearly not buying your denial. “Fine, but for the record? He’s totally into you too.”

You gave Leslie a confused look, followed by a doubtful laugh. “Yeah, right?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Leslie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your self-doubt. “Why do you think he wouldn’t be into you?” she asked, crossing her arms as if she were gearing up to debate.

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “I mean…look at him,” you said, gesturing vaguely in Glen’s direction. “He could have literally anyone he wants. Models, actresses, anyone. And I’m just…” You trailed off, shrugging.

Leslie tilted her head, studying you with a knowing smile. “Just what?” she pressed.

“Just me,” you finished weakly, feeling a little silly for saying it out loud.

Leslie let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. Second of all—” She paused, leaning in slightly for emphasis. “You’re the one he asked to be his date tonight. Not a model, not an actress, you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the truth of her words. “That’s just because we’re friends,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Friends,” Leslie repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because friends definitely look at each other the way he looks at you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again. “He does not look at me any type of way,” you insisted, but Leslie wasn’t buying it.

She smirked, nodding toward Glen, who was now making his way across the room in your direction.

“Sure he doesn’t,” she said, her voice teasing. “But just in case you’re still in denial, why don’t you pay attention when he gets over here? You’ll see what I mean.”

Before you could respond, Glen reached the two of you, his presence immediately drawing your attention. 

“Hey,” he said, flashing that easy smile of his. “Am I interrupting something, or can I steal her for a bit?”

Leslie’s grin widened as she gave you a pointed look. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, stepping aside. “She’s all yours.”

You shot her a subtle glare, but Leslie just winked at you before turning to join the rest of the group. As Glen’s attention shifted back to you, your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do when he was around.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze flicking over your face as if checking for any signs of discomfort.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just catching up with Leslie.”

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “She’s been excited to see you. I think she’s secretly more interested in hanging out with you than me tonight.”

You laughed, the sound helping to ease the tension swirling in your chest. “Well, to be fair, I am pretty great,” you teased, falling back into your usual banter with him.

“Can’t argue with that,” Glen said, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes that lingered a little too long, something that made your breath catch just slightly.

The atmosphere shifted subtly as the music transitioned to something slower, a beat just mellow enough to set a softer, almost romantic mood. The chatter in the room seemed to quiet slightly, replaced by the rhythmic sway of the melody. Glen glanced toward the small dance floor, where a few of his friends were starting to pair off, and then turned back to you.

“Come on,” he said, extending a hand toward you, his smile warm and inviting.

You shook your head immediately, taking a small step back. “You know I don’t dance,” you reminded him, your voice firm but playful.

His grin only widened, clearly undeterred. “And you know I don’t take no for an answer,” he teased, stepping closer and gently taking your hand before you could protest further.

“Glen,” you said, a hint of exasperation in your tone, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“Relax,” he said with a laugh, glancing back at you. “I’ll lead. All you have to do is follow.”

You sighed in resignation, realizing there was no escaping this. When you reached the dance floor, you placed a hand on his shoulder, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. He wrapped an arm securely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“You’ve done this before,” he said lightly as he started to guide you to the rhythm of the music.

“Once or twice,” you admitted, though you still felt slightly self-conscious. “But I’m warning you—I’m not great at it.”

“You’re doing fine,” he assured you, his voice low and steady, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Leslie standing by the bar. She was watching you with an unmistakable smirk, her arms crossed in triumph. When your eyes met hers, she gave you a knowing look, the kind that said, See? Told you so.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head, trying to silently tell her to knock it off. Glen noticed the exchange, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced over at Leslie and then back down at you. 

“What am I missing?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your cheeks were already starting to warm.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, his tone teasing now. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Leslie’s just…being Leslie,” you said vaguely, hoping to leave it at that.

But Glen wasn’t letting it go. He tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as realization started to dawn on him. 

“Wait a minute…” he said, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Is she messing with you about something?”

“Not really,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Not really?” he repeated, clearly unconvinced. His eyes flicked back toward Leslie, who was now openly grinning at the two of you. “Oh, she’s definitely messing with you about something,” he said with a laugh.

You groaned, your head dropping slightly as you muttered, “I’m going to kill her.”

Glen chuckled, his hand on your waist giving a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said, his tone playful but his smile soft.

For a moment, you forgot about Leslie entirely, your focus shifting back to Glen as you moved together in time with the music. His gaze lingered on you, his expression unexpectedly tender, and you felt your heart skip in a way that made you wonder if Leslie might actually have a point after all.

As the slower song faded out, you felt a moment of relief. But then the next song started, and your heart sank a little as the unmistakable notes of a love ballad filled the air. The kind that spoke of longing and intimacy, the kind that made you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were still in Glen’s arms.

You glanced up at him, your lips parting to excuse yourself, but before you could step away, his hand on your back shifted, a gentle but deliberate pressure that kept you in place.

“Stay,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Glen, I—” you started, already shaking your head. There was no way you could dance to a love song with your best friend. It felt too…loaded.

“Just one more,” he murmured, and when your eyes met his, whatever protest you had ready fell away. There was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but undeniable. It wasn’t just a friendly look. It was softer, deeper, and for a moment, it left you breathless.

You nodded, barely, and he smiled—just a small, private curve of his lips that made your stomach flip.

He pulled you just a little closer this time, close enough that your chest brushed against his. The hold on your back shifted, his hand sliding just slightly lower, resting at the curve where your back met your waist. It wasn’t inappropriate—just enough to feel a little less like friendship and a little more like something else.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your cheek resting lightly against his chest. His warmth was comforting, grounding, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of the song and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

You felt him tilt his head, the faintest brush of his cheek against the top of yours. It was such a small gesture, but it sent your heart into a quiet frenzy, a rhythm that seemed to echo in time with the music.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, swaying gently to the melody. The first verse passed, then the chorus, and you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt to be here, like the rest of the world had melted away.

The song came to an end, the final notes fading into a hum of conversation and clinking glasses around you. Glen didn’t move right away, and for a moment, neither did you. You stayed in his arms, feeling the warmth of his hand still pressed against your back, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

But then someone called his name from across the room, breaking the fragile bubble that had surrounded you both. Glen’s arm slipped away, though his hand lingered on your elbow for a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on yours, as if reluctant to leave.

You nodded, offering a small smile, and watched as he crossed the room to greet a new arrival. The absence of his touch left you feeling untethered, a sudden awareness of just how much you’d let yourself melt into him during that dance.

Needing a moment to collect yourself—and maybe something stronger than a moment of quiet—you made your way to the bar. You ordered a glass of wine and took a steadying sip, trying to push the last few minutes out of your mind.

Of course, Leslie found you before you even made it halfway through your drink.

“So,” she started, leaning casually against the bar with an unmistakable smirk. “That was…something.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the blush already creeping up your neck. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she asked innocently, though her grin was anything but. “I’m just saying, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother look at someone like that. Or hold someone like that. Or—”

“Leslie,” you warned, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your attempt at composure.

She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “I’m just saying, for someone who insists she doesn’t dance, you looked awfully comfortable out there dancing with my brother.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you replied, taking another sip of your wine in a futile attempt to drown your nerves.

“Doesn’t it?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like something more.”

You shot her a sharp look, but she just shrugged, still grinning.

“Relax,” she said, nudging your arm playfully. “I’m not about to make a big announcement or anything. But if you don’t see it yet…” She trailed off, giving you a knowing look before gesturing subtly toward Glen, who was still across the room, laughing with a small group of friends.

You followed her gaze despite yourself, and your heart gave a traitorous little lurch at the sight of him. His smile was easy and charming, but every now and then, his eyes flicked toward the bar, as if checking to see if you were still there.

“See what I mean?” Leslie said softly, pulling your attention back to her.

You shook your head, trying to play it off. “You’re reading into things.”

“Am I?” she challenged, her tone light but her expression serious. “Because I’ve known Glen my whole life, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. So, maybe it’s time you stop convincing yourself it’s all in your head.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself speechless, staring down into your glass of wine as if it held the answers you were so desperately trying to avoid.

Leslie let the silence linger for a moment before giving your arm another playful nudge. “Just think about it, okay?”

And with that, she pushed off the bar and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts—and the undeniable truth you were no longer sure you could ignore.

You stepped away from the bar, glass of wine in hand, and gravitated toward a quieter corner of the rooftop. The laughter and conversation from the party grew softer with every step, the music fading into a pleasant hum in the background. A gentle breeze brushed against your skin as you approached the railing, the Los Angeles skyline glittering like a sea of stars before you.

You leaned against the cool metal and took a slow sip of your wine, your thoughts drifting back to Leslie’s words. Was she onto something? No, she couldn’t be. Glen was your best friend, the one constant in your life through every twist and turn. You would know if he felt something for you… right?

But then again…

You sighed and rested your elbow on the railing, pressing your glass lightly to your lips. Leslie had known Glen her entire life. If anyone could read him, it was her. And the way she spoke—like she’d been holding onto this knowledge for a while—left you with an uncomfortable sense of doubt.

Could she be right? Could you really have missed something that big?

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your thoughts. You looked over, expecting another party guest, but instead, you found Glen standing beside you. The velvet tuxedo jacket was now off, and his hair was a little mussed from probably running his hand through it one too many times, but his smile was warm and familiar.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning casually against the railing next to you. “You okay?”

You managed a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, just needed a breather.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calm and steady, before arching a brow. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Leslie pestering you at the bar, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” Glen said, clearly not buying it. “Because Leslie may or may not have told me to come find you.”

Your heart gave a jolt, and you turned to look at him. “She what?”

“She didn’t say why,” Glen added quickly, holding up a hand as if to reassure you. “But… she said…enough.”

“Enough?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

He hesitated, his smile fading into something softer, something more sincere. “Enough to make me realize I’ve been putting this off for too long.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Glen stepped closer. His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to gauge your reaction before saying anything else. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice low. “For coming with me tonight. For being here for me—not just tonight, but always.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. There was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart beat just a little faster.

“And I need you to know,” he continued, taking another step closer, “how much you mean to me.”

The space between you was nearly nonexistent now, and for a moment, neither of you said a word. His eyes searched yours, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

You felt it then—that shift Leslie had hinted at, the one you’d been too afraid to fully acknowledge. This wasn’t just your best friend standing in front of you. This was Glen, the man who had been at your side for years, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

He took a deep breath and leaned in slightly, pausing when your noses were almost touching. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you met his gaze, your heart thundering in your chest.

Glen’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and then his eyes fluttered shut as he raised a hand to your face. His palm was warm as it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You closed your eyes just as his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and placed a hand lightly against his chest, he deepened the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

The world around you faded—the music, the laughter, the skyline. All that mattered was the way Glen’s lips moved against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath as you both stood there, processing what had just happened. Glen’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft, absentminded circles against your skin. Your heart raced, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the surreal, breathtaking reality of the moment.

Finally, Glen broke the silence, his lips curving into that familiar, playful grin that always managed to put you at ease. “So…” he began, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity from before. “Does this mean you’ll let me take you to next year’s Globes too?”

The laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, breaking the tension in the most perfect way. You shook your head, resting your forehead against his chest as a smile spread across your lips. “We’ll see if you behave, Cowboy.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. “Behave? I’m a perfect gentleman,” he said, his voice tinged with mock indignation.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arching a brow. “Oh, really? Perfect gentlemen don’t usually kiss their best friends on rooftops in the middle of a party.”

His grin widened as he shrugged, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. “Maybe I got tired of being just your best friend.”

Your breath caught again at the sincerity in his tone, the way his teasing words carried so much truth. Glen had always been charming, always quick with a joke or a flirtatious comment, but this felt different. This felt real.

You didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, but instead of pushing, Glen just smiled and leaned down to press a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead. And with that, he stepped back slightly, though his hand still lingered on your waist, as if to let you know that even with the space between you, he was still there, still yours.

You tilted your head back to look up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. The smile that still lingered on his lips wasn’t one of teasing; it was genuine, like he was relieved to have crossed that line with you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, your voice quieter than usual. “This is... a lot to take in, you know?”

Glen nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your dress, a small gesture that seemed to ground you. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get it.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for a brief moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself truly hear what he was saying. The uncertainty that had clouded your mind earlier began to dissipate, replaced by something far more powerful—trust.

“I just don’t want to mess things up, Glen,” you admitted, looking up at him again, your voice low but clear. “We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to lose that.”

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb now tracing along your jawline as he spoke, his voice steady. “We won’t lose it,” he promised, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t let that happen. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, the sincerity in his words making your heart swell. “Okay,” you whispered, the word feeling like a vow in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as if the world had paused just for you two. It was peaceful, despite everything—the chaos of the party, the swirling emotions inside you. Glen was here, right in front of you, and he was offering you something more. Something you hadn’t expected but couldn’t deny.

Then, in the silence that followed, he grinned, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. “So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a date?”

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, and couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled with excitement. He was waiting, his expression open and genuine, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like anything was uncertain anymore. The nerves, the doubts—they melted away in the warmth of his gaze.

"Yeah," you said softly, your voice filled with the quiet confidence that had come from years of friendship and, somehow, this unexpected moment. "I'd like that."

His smile deepened, and for a second, it was as if time stood still. He reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it shy. It was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours. You both stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, as if savoring the moment before the world could rush back in.

"Come on," Glen said, pulling you gently by the hand, “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

As he led you back toward the party, his fingers intertwined with yours, and the moment felt complete. You’d crossed the line, yes, but it was the best kind of line to cross—one that made you excited for whatever came next.

You shared one last look, a silent promise between you two, before re-entering the party, side by side, ready for whatever the night—and your future—held.

[geneviveleocardius]

i want y’all to know that this isn’t okay, i’m not romanticizing it, much less normalizing it in any way.

simon riley never saw himself as a good man. not even close. he knew his flaws too well—sharp-edged and cutting like the knives he carried. you deserved better, he told himself a hundred times, but selfishness had sunk its claws deep into him. you were his, and the thought of you walking away felt like a death sentence.

lately, though, he couldn’t ignore the signs. you weren’t as warm as you used to be, weren’t lingering in his arms like before. your laughter, once so easy and free around him, had quieted. he told himself it wasn’t a big deal, that you’d come around. but when he caught you sitting alone, staring out the window with an expression he couldn’t read, doubt began to gnaw at him.

you were slipping away.

he couldn’t let that happen.

that night, when you crawled into bed beside him, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. his grip was firm, unyielding. you stiffened at first but didn’t pull away.

“what’s wrong with you lately?” you asked, your voice soft, almost cautious.

he knew what you wanted—what you’d confided to him during one of those rare moments where walls had come down. you wanted a family, a child to hold and love. he’d scoffed at the idea back then, brushed it off as something far too tender for someone like him. but now… now he saw it differently.

he saw it as a way to keep you.

he didn’t answer right away, his face buried against the curve of your neck. he breathed you in, grounding himself.

“you’re mine,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “you know that, don’t you?”

you shifted slightly, trying to put some distance between you, but his hold tightened. “simon—”

“no,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. “i mean it. you’re mine. you don’t get to leave me.”

“i’m not trying to leave you,” you muttered, but he didn’t bought it.

he didn’t believe you. not fully. and that fear, that bone-deep terror of losing you, made him desperate.

“simon,” you murmured, your voice laced with sleep.

“shh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “just relax.”

you didn’t resist as he tugged you closer, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, spreading you beneath him. his movements were slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t want to give you a chance to question him. instead, he focused on the feel of your skin, the way your body responded to his touch. he buried himself in you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he moved, his grip on your hips possessive.

he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wasn’t thinking about the consequences, not fully. all he could focus on was the need to keep you tethered to him. and he knew what you wanted—had heard it in the way you spoke about children, about the family you dreamed of.

this was his way of giving it to you, of ensuring you’d stay.

when it was over, he stayed inside you, his hand splayed over your stomach as if to seal the promise he’d just made—without words, without asking. you didn’t say anything, your breathing still uneven as you lay there, and he took your silence as acceptance.

he told himself it was for the best. you’d understand eventually. and when the time came, when you held that baby in your arms, you’d stay. you’d have to.

because simon riley didn’t lose the things that mattered to him.

he’d make sure of it.

[woniedarlin]

He listens while you yap

pairings: boyfriend! enhypen x reader | listener x yapper trope

caution: be prepared for their randomness (•‿•)

author's note: This is my first time trying something like this, and I thought, why not switch things up? If you enjoyed it and want more like this, just let me know! Happy reading!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

HEESEUNG

You explained an article you found earlier, highlighted a point you found especially interesting. “So, apparently, there’s this theory about how—wait, are you even listening?” you paused mid-sentence, glancing up at Heeseung.

He was just staring at you the entire time.

“Am I talking too much?” you asked, feeling embarrassed. Was he bored? You might have been talking for hours...well, you were.

“I’m sorry,” you added, feeling guilty.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile that immediately put you at ease. “No, not at all. I’m just listening,” he said gently. “You always have the most interesting things to say.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I’m just rambling about random stuff half the time.”

He chuckled softly while shaking his head. “Not to me. You make even the most ordinary things sound extraordinary. Like you’re breathing life into them.”

“Come on, that’s a bit much,” you teased, though you were shy with his words.

He shook his head slowly. “It’s not. You could talk about the lifespan of jellyfish, and I’d still want to hear every word.”

You laughed. “Seriously? Jellyfish?”

“Yup,” he said with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t think you realize how much I enjoy hearing you talk.”

You looked at him for a moment. Your laughter turned into a warmer feeling. “You always know how to make me feel special, right?”

Heeseung smiled more. “I’m just telling the truth. You’re the one who makes everything feel special.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but grin. “You’re too good at this, you know. No wonder everyone’s always talking about how sweet you are.”

He lightly shrugged. “Only for you.”

JAY

You plopped down next to Jay on the couch, “Last night, I dreamed I was a bottle of ketchup,” you said, not even glancing at him.

Jay didn’t even look up from what he was doing, though you knew he was listening. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And you were mustard. Which is weird because you’re usually mayonnaise in my dreams.” You said it matter-of-factly.

Jay glanced over at you and gave a small smile. Your boyfriend didn’t even question it anymore.

“Mhm. We were sitting on a picnic table, minding our own business,” you continued, staring blankly ahead. “Then this kid comes over, grabs you, and squeezes you all over a hot dog.”

“Of course,” Jay muttered, his smile still there.

“And then they grabbed me and put me on french fries,” you said, your voice now lighter. “But even though we were on different foods, we ended up on the same plate.”

Jay gave you a soft look. “Of course you did.”

“Yup. It’s like… no matter what, we always end up together,” you said nonchalantly. “Even if we’re on different things, we’ll always end up on the same plate.”

Jay didn’t react much, just looking at you with that same fond smile. “Ketchup and mustard, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

“Yep.” You nodded as if you were completely confident in the analogy. “It’s like fate, you know?”

Jay leaned back. “Fate. Of course. You’re the ketchup, and I’m the mustard.”

“Exactly,” you said, kicking your legs a little. “I mean, I’m obviously the star of the show, but you do make a good sidekick.”

Jay laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head. “You’re the star, hm?”

“Of course,” you said, completely unfazed, “but you still belong next to me.”

“Right,” Jay replied with a small, affectionate smile. “Next to you, always.”

And just like that, he continues to look at you with the same smile as you continue to talk, absolutely in love with you.

JAKE

You were pacing around the room, hands gesturing wildly as you went off about the movie you’d just watched. “And don’t even get me started on the plot twist—like, I saw it coming from a mile away! But, still, how could they—ugh, I can’t wrap my head around it!”

Jake sat on the couch with one arm stretched across the backrest. “Go on, tell me more,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing.

“Okay, but can we talk about that scene? The main character falls—of course—and she’s like, ‘Save yourself!’” You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Like, girl, what? Just get up! Run with your friend! Why are you making it so dramatic?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly holding back a laugh.

You kept going, utterly oblivious to his gaze. “I mean, realistically, if I fall, I’m grabbing your arm and dragging you down with me. We’re both going down. There’s no ‘save yourself’ moment. You’re coming with me.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “Good to know.”

“And the friend?” you continued, throwing your hands up. “She’s just standing there, like, ‘Noooo!’ for too long. Like, hello? Help her up and run!”

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’d definitely survive in a movie.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, pointing at him. “I’m not wasting time with emotional goodbyes. We’re both making it out, or no one is.”

Jake grinned, his voice dropping just slightly. “So, you’d save me?”

You froze for a second before narrowing your eyes. “Obviously. I’d even ensure you didn’t trip in the first place.”

He laughed softly. “And here I was, thinking you’d be the one tripping on purpose just to get me to catch you.”

Your jaw dropped. “I would NOT!”

Jake smirked. “You totally would.”

“I’d be saving both of us!”

“You’re hot,”

You froze. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said.

Of course, he had to flirt.

You crossed your arms tighter, fighting back a smile. “Okay… what? That’s random. You’re distracting me.”

“That’s kind of my thing, isn’t it?” Jake grinned wider, tilting his head. “Admit it, baby.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” But the way your heart fluttered at his words? You couldn’t deny it.

SUNGHOON

You paced around the room as you got lost in recounting the day. “And I visited my parents today! I missed them so much…it was the best.”

Finally, you stopped mid-stride and turned to face him, hands on your hips. “Okay, are you even listening? Or are you zoning out again?”

You have seen your boyfriend zoning out often, especially in the mornings. You wouldn’t be surprised if today were one of those days.

But he chuckled softly, wanting to assure you. “I’m listening. I always do.”

You tilted your head. “Even when I’m rambling about stuff that’s probably unimportant?”

“Especially then,” he said, his dimples appearing as his smile grew wider. “I like hearing you talk. It makes me happy.”

Your arms crossed, though you couldn’t fight the grin pulling at your lips. “You like when I yap on and on?”

“Not the yapping part,” Sunghoon teased. “It’s the way you’re so happy when you talk. You’re glowing, and I can’t look away.”

That made your cheeks heat up. “I’m just telling you about my day.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But you light up when you talk about the things you love. I could listen to you all day. It’s comforting.”

“Comforting?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. Oh?

He nodded as his eyes began to soften. “Yeah. It’s like you’re letting me see a part of you no one else does.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “I never thought I’d be comforting while going on about my life.”

Sunghoon’s smile grew. “You’d be surprised.”

SUNOO

“…and I don’t even know why they didn’t just say that in the first place! Would it have been so hard? Honestly…” you trailed off, glancing at Sunoo, watching you with the softest smile.

You blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asked, his smile widening.

“Like you’re completely entertained by my nonsense.”

“Because I am,” Sunoo admitted without hesitation. “I love it when you yap.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yap?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You go off about the most random things, and I love it. It’s my favorite background noise.”

You playfully gasped. “Background noise? You’re saying I’m noise?” How dare he?!

“Sweet noise,” he corrected, grinning cheekily. “The kind I never want to tune out.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the blush on your cheeks. “So you want me to keep going?”

Sunoo nodded eagerly. “Of course! Why do you think I never interrupt you?”

Tilting your head, suspicious. “What if I talk about like….I don’t know... talk about socks?”

He laughed softly. “You don’t realize how cute you are when you get all caught up in your little stories.”

You tried to fight the smile tugging at your lips but gave up quickly. “Fine. But you’re stuck with me talking forever.”

Sunoo’s eyes sparkled. “Lucky me.”

JUNGWON

You were sprawled on the carpet while Jungwon sat next to you, quietly listening with that ever-patient expression.

“…and I don’t get it! Why would you even bring a cat to a grocery store? What’s the cat gonna do? Pick out your produce?” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Next thing you know, they’ll be pushing their pets in carts like it’s totally normal.”

Jungwon blinked at you. You can see his lips twitching.

You squinted. “You’re holding back a laugh, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, lips pressed together tightly.

“Yes, you are!” You pointed at him accusingly. “You’re trying so hard not to laugh right now.”

He cracked. His shoulders shook as he let out a small giggle. But then it escalated. His hand flew to his stomach, and he was laughing so hard that he tipped backward.

“HAHAHAHAHA OH MY—AHHHH HA HA HA HA!”

You sat there, wide-eyed. “Is it that funny?”

He nodded, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. “It’s not even the story! It’s you! You’re so serious about the ridiculous things—AHHH HA HA AHH HAHA—I can’t!”

You crossed your arms, pouting. “I was making a valid point.”

“I know, I know!” Jungwon wheezed, wiping his eyes. “But you looked so offended! Like, personally attacked by the cat in the store.”

“Well, someone had to say it!”

Jungwon shook his head. “You’re too much.”

You huffed. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” he teased, his laughter finally calming down.

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “Maybe.”

“Definitely,” he said, still grinning. “Now, please. Keep going. I need another good laugh.”

NI-KI

You were going on about how your day went, and Ni-ki, leaning against the doorframe, watched you as he kept grinning. He wasn’t saying much but teasing you with every detail you mentioned. “Wow, you don’t stop talking, huh?” Ni-ki said with a smirk.

You raised an eyebrow, not backing down. “I’m just sharing my day, okay? You don’t have to listen if it’s too much.”

“Oh, I’m listening,” Ni-ki said as he stepped forward. “I just didn’t know you had this much to say. You’ve been talking for hours, baby.”

You shot him a look, unfazed. “Oh, please. You know I talk plenty, just not to you.”

Ni-ki chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking over to you. “I think you talk to me more than you realize. You just don’t want to admit it.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I don’t know about that.”

“Uh-huh. You’re giving me the full lecture today. You can’t hide it,” he teased. “And honestly, I’m enjoying it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to act indifferent. “Of course you are; you love it when I talk.”

Ni-ki shrugged dramatically. “Guilty as charged. Your yapping is one of my favorite things. Keeps me entertained.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how easily he could get under your skin, even with his teasing. “Well, I hope you’re ready for more because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

“Bring it on,” Ni-ki said with a wink, clearly looking forward to hearing all of it.

[sturnlsstuff]

PLEASE WRITE A ONESHOT OF CHRIS OVERSTIMULATING Y/N AND FUCKING HER WITH A VIBRATOR OR SOMETHING LIKE DOM!CHRIS BRAT!READER PLEAAASEEE

CHRIS PUTS YOU IN YOUR PLACE AFTER BEING A BRAT ALL DAY

[smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, mdni]

chris's cock is buried deep inside you as he pounds into you mercilessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin fill the room. his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing slightly every now and then, the bed creaking, headboard hitting against the wall from how hard he was fucking you.

you didn't really mean to be a brat today. the attitude you would give him all day was driving chris insane. he would let it slide if you two were alone, but talking back to him in front of his brothers and friends? hell no.

you knew you're screwed when he practically dragged you out of his friend's house, pushed you into the car and in total silence drove home.

did you expect him to get annoyed with you? yes. did you know exactly what the consequences would be? not really.

your pussy constantly clenching around him as you gasp for air after another orgasm you just had. "fuckin' squeezin' me so tight.... wanted to act like a brat, huh?" he pants, "couldn't fuckin'.... behave— this what you wanted? still think you're so clever now?" his thumb presses firmly against your neck when you shake your head desperately, his other hand digs into your hip hard enough to bruise.

"c-clever... no, i don't— i... oh—" stumbling over your words, another moan leaves you when he keeps hitting your g-spot perfectly, overstimulating you on purpose.

"no, huh?" his gaze is intense as you lock eyes with him, his face a mixed mask of annoyance and lust. "then shut the fuck up and take it—" he squeezes your throat a bit harder, cutting off your air supply slightly as he pounds into you relentlessly.

you're seeing stars when the knot in your belly keeps growing again, completely going dumb on his dick which causes him to twitch inside you. "close again? f-fuckk, such a good fuckin' girl takin' my cock this— should i let you cum? after you were so— fuckin'— annoying all day—?"

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry c-chris—"

"sorry? now you're fuckin' sorry?"

"please—" that's all you're able to choke out, gripping the sheets as your orgasm crashes down over you like a wave. he groans at the feeling of you creaming around him again.

his composure shatters, with a shuddering growl he presses fully inside you, his knot starting to swell "shittt, ma... stay still... don't... fuckin'... move—"

he rides out his high, eyes locked on the way your eyebrows knitted together and mouth is slack open, whines and cries out of pleasure leaving your lips.

you're pretty sure he's done and you're able to get some air especially when his grip on your throat loosens. but oh, how much you underestimated your boyfriend sometimes.

as the aftershocks of his release fade, chris glances at the vibrator lying on the nightstand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. still buried deep inside you, he reaches for the device with a mischievous glint in his eye. you're fully oblivious to his plan, laying with your eyes closed until he picks up the vibrator and turns it on, the high pitched whine filling the room. he presses the device against your clit, the vibrations making you jerk and twitch despite being so thoroughly fucked. "open your eyes, brat. see what else we got... your favorite little toy, hm?"

a muffled scream escapes you, eyes fluttering open to look down at what he was doing. breath hitches in your throat, "chris—" you try to sway his hand away too overstimulated, but not trying hard enough when it hurts so good.

he ignores your whines, pressing the vibrator more firmly against you, his other hand reaching out to grab your thigh and throw your leg over his shoulder, opening you up even more. "too sensitive?" his tone mocks you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you squirm.

chris leans forward and captures your mouth in a rough, dominating kiss, biting down on your lower lip, then tugging it gently as he continues to press the vibrator against you. "look at you, so pretty and overwhelmed..." you moan against his lips, feeling his hips slowly start moving, thrusting in and out as the toy continues to assault your swollen bud.

"t-too much, chris... please— oh!"

"too much, huh? but you're still so fuckin' tight.... m'not stoppin' until you can't take anymore." he pulls back from the kiss, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he observes your trembling legs and flushed cheeks. "gonna cum f'me again? seems like your greedy pussy can't get enough, hm?"

"i— i can't—" your hips twitch upwards to press more against the toy, feeling his cock moving hard enough to make your toes curl.

"yeaaah, you can, c'mon gorgeous... where's that attitude you were giving me all day?" he punctuates his words with a deep thrust. as you clench around him and grind against the vibrator, he presses it harder, stimulating your clit, the buzzing driving you wild. "thaaaat's it, brat... fuckkk—"

the stimulation with him repeatedly hitting your sweet spots has you coming undone again, you let out high pitched moans, your whole body shaking. "holy shit— hurts so... s-so good—"

he smirks, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he continues to thrust gently and keep the vibrator pressed against your swollen bud. "y'love it, though.." he growls in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "maybe this will— mmmhm, teach you how to behave—"

your fingers tangle into his hair to hold onto anything, nails digging into his back what only spurrs him on.

his thrusts becoming a little more forceful as he drives himself deeper inside you, feeling his release building again at the way you clench around him like a vice. the toy keeps buzzing against you at the same time, the combination of sensations overwhelming your poor, overstimulated pussy.

"chris if you— don't stop— oh! m'gonna— cum again—" your eyes rolling back, back arching upwards. "go ahead, baby." he pants in your ear, his voice hoarse from holding back his own release. he can feel your inner walls starting to spasm, ready to convulse around him again, your body tensing up getting closer to another release that you clearly can't handle. "gimme one more, c'mon..."

"i'm— fuck... cumming— chris, i'm—" you cry out, your body shaking uncontrollably as euphoria consumes you, completely overpowering your other senses. he watches you with satisfaction, keeping the vibrator pressed against you, prolonging your orgasm. it makes you squeeze around him so tight, he barely can move, "goddamn—"

he keeps you flush against him as he finally lets out a groan and releases inside you, flooding your already overworked pussy with his seed. you gasp for air, eyes fluttering open as you weakly mutter, "too much chris—"

he smiles against you, finally turning off the vibrator and gently pulling it away from your swollen, quivering flesh. "yeah?" he asks mischievously, nuzzling into your neck and biting gently at the sensitive skin there. "gonna keep being a brat?"

you shake your head just as he lifts up his, looking at your fucked out expression. then he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his ego boosted at the way he clearly wore you out.

"can i get cuddles tonight?" you mutters against his lips, a chuckle escapes him. "obviously."

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs

[kurishiri]

Mystery Bag 2025 ┊ Team 3: The adult nobles

William (bi-stander), Elbert (“Al pick me up I’m scared” Victorian child), Victor (bisexual mess #1), Darius (bisexual mess #2)

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to narrative flow and characterization purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— the mystery bag 2025 sale is a story set sale where the guys are put into teams and participate in a relay event thing. this is one of three teams! you can read the prologue, translated by @.judesmoonbeauty, here.

— cw: maybe a near-death experience.

—— Sky ——

——Group 3’s round: William, Elbert, Victor, Darius.

—— City ——

Victor: Seeing this lineup, I take it we’re ‘Team Nobles’!

William: I find it intriguing how it has a pleasant and genuine ring when you are the one saying it.

Darius: I see you are magnanimous, fun, and wonderful today as well, William.

William: Thank you for your kind words. I think you’re quite wonderful yourself too, Darius.

Elbert: …What are you two to each other?

Darius: I’m just very, veeery interested in William here, that’s all.

City girls: Lord Victor, you’re wonderful today as well~~!

Victor: Oh dear, thank you for your vocal support.

City girls: Lord Elbert~! Please blow a kiss~~!

Elbert: ...Blow...a kiss? (O_O)

William: There seems to be more spectators than usual.

Victor: Since it’s the first time we’re holding this selection for the Happy Boy. It’s natural then for there to be many spectating eyes.

V: Besides, did you know? We four are the strongest contenders, I’d say.

V: First up, William!

V: Those sheer prowess in your legs, and your peerless beauty! And by far, I know very well in these great many years I have stood by your side, just how swift of a runner you are.

Darius: How about you stop putting William up on a pedestal? (*^‿^*)

Victor: And next up, Elbert. There’s not a soul that’s seen you running before, but I hold high expectations for you!

Darius: What a wishy-washy basis.

Victor: And then the leader of Vogel, Darius. Same as above.

Darius: ...What?

Victor: And finally, there’s me!

V: With long, flowing jet-black locks, and these elegant and beauteous eyes. And not to mention——

Darius: William, let’s pay no mind to all his nonsense and prepare ourselves. If you were to get hurt anywhere, that would for sure be a problem.

Victor: Now stooop right there. Darius, I’ve been thinking this for a while now, but...

V: Have you by any chance fallen in love with me!?

Darius: And why do you say that?

Victor: Why, because there are times when you just can’t help but tease the one you like, you know. I see, I see it now~~ I hadn’t realized at all!

Darius: This is exactly what I despise about you.

Victor: What the— despise!? (O_O)

William: Haha, I see you two are getting along quite well.

Elbert: ...They are?

Steering committee: To everyone in group 3, there is something we must inform you about.

Steering committee: We do apologize, but due to mechanical difficulties, there is a one hour delay.

Victor: Oh my, one hour, you say? That’s quite a hefty amount of time.

Young man in steering committee: Lord Victor, the Queen’s Aide, Lord Rex and Lord Elbert. And the personage over there...

Victor: That would be Lord Darius Vogel, the leader of Vogel.

Young man in steering committee: Oh— then it’s all the more reason we can’t afford to keep you waiting in such a place.

Young man in steering committee: Please wait over here until the start time. Well then, if you’ll follow me.

—— Café ——

William: A table just for us, and warm tea as well. Very considerate of them.

W: ...However, Elbert. I would refrain from putting your hands on your cup of tea.

W: That is, if you do not wish to collapse, just as Snow White had when she ate the poisoned apple, and get cozy with the bed.

Elbert: ...Ahh, so it was like that.

Victor: It was like what? (O_O)

Elbert: You two gave off an air of bloodlust. For a moment’s time.

Darius: Ohh, so I see.

D: Basically, there is a target that concealed himself in the shadows of this lively event... is that right?

D: But why did they choose to sneak in a dose of poison for Elbert then?

Victor: Our target this time is a criminal who has spoken out against the authority of Her Majesty the Queen.

V: And so, what if a corpse turned up during this event?

Elbert: It is highly possible Her Majesty, who has planned this event, will be faced with criticism.

Victor: And what’s important is who becomes the corpse then. It has to be someone whose corpse would cause a ruckus.

V: In other words, the perfect fit for such a role would be the one who snags the victory, and bonus points if they are of a high standing.

William: That said, Victor, while a perfect candidate to cause a ruckus among the people, would be too unabashed of a choice, as he is the Queen’s Aide.

W: And as I am written in a very positive light in newspapers, interestingly enough, there is a risk of facing retaliation.

W: As for Darius... targeting him would be an international problem in and of itself, so he is out of the question.

W: That would then leave Elbert. That would be why the possibility of your tea being poisoned is nothing to laugh at.

W: ——Or have we erred in our guess in any way, young man?

Young man in standing committee: Wha...

Young man in standing committee: I didn’t...

William: Your hands are trembling, and your lips resemble the sea in how blue they are.

Victor: And besides, we’ve already collected all the evidence, Christopher Olcott.

Young man in standing committee: ...How do you know my name...

Victor: You are a part of a revolution group that preaches against Her Majesty the Queen, and you were given the mission of assassinating Elbert here with poison.

V: I am also very much in the know of your personal history and family... care to lend an ear?

Young man in standing committee: ...gh.

Young man in steering committee: E-even if that’s the case! There’s something that doesn’t add up in what you’re saying!

William: Doesn’t add up, you say?

Young man in steering committee: If I really wanted to point criticizing eyes at Her Majesty the Queen, I wouldn’t kill any participant in the preliminary round.

Young man in steering committee: I would wait for the finals. I would kill on the most anticipated day.

Young man in steering committee: That would cause even more of a ruckus, wouldn’t it.

William: Yes, exactly. I did figure as much.

W: However——you could not.

W: After all, the birthday of your boss’ beloved daughter, whom he very much dotes on, falls on the same day as the finals, right?

W: And that was why you were ordered to carry it out by today, with no exceptions. Or am I wrong?

Young man in steering committee: ...!

Darius: Looks like that’s the end game for you.

Victor: You’re still young, so if it’s now, you can still turn over a new leaf. That is, if you are able to choose that path for yourself.

William: Indeed. All this happened before the tea could even cool, after all.

—— City ——

Darius: Based on today’s events, the group will be condemned at a later date for their repeated misdeeds...

D: What a magnificent way to plant fear of condemnation, William. I’d expect nothing less.

D: Oh, especially that ‘all this happened before the tea could even cool’ line.

D: Could you say that one more time, pretty please?

Victor: ‘ALL THIS HAPPENED BEFORE THE TEA COULD EVEN COOL’~~! (⌒▽⌒)☆

Darius: Not you. (눈_눈)

Elbert: ..There was something that made me curious.

Victor: Ask away, Elbert.

Elbert: Darius.

E: Since when were you aware William and Victor were going to carry out the condemnation?

Darius: ‘When’?

Elbert: When they revealed the target this time, you did not seem very surprised to me.

Darius: Hehe, look at you, so the Earl Greetia does have his wits about him after all. Color me surprised.

D: That said, it would be a stretch for me to know who the target was, you know? I just had a feeling there was something going on, I guess.

D: Victor, this is what you said.

—— Flashback ——

Victor: Besides, did you know? We four are the strongest contenders, I’d say.

—— End flashback ——

Darius: All the members of Crown and Vogel are participating.

D: And yet, there you were, touting about how we were the strongest contenders. That gave me a feeling.

D: You guys were tampering with information from the start. All to oust that young man.

Victor: ......... (･ᴗ･)

Darius: Indeed, I really do despise you. And how sharply cunning you are.

Victor: I take it that when you say ‘despise,’ it is a form of your love, but...

V: If you really do insist that you despise me, then all you need to do is win against me in the match that’s about to start in a few minutes.

V: That is, if you can win.

William: Look at you, Victor. I’ll have you know that I would hate to lose as well?

Elbert: ...I also have no intention of losing.

E: Kate is cheering, after all.

Steering committee: Thank you for waiting. Group 3, we will begin the round.

William: Now then, how about we enjoy this match to the absolute fullest?

Fin.

team 1 team 2 team 3

ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[twink-woman]

I’m kind of confused as to why we’re even drawing a distinction between people who self-identify as trans women/fems and people who self-identify as femboys (but notably not trans women/fems) in the first place, because, like… Yeah, if you’re a transfeminized person, you’re going to be TMA, regardless of what you call yourself.

But the way that I’ve always understood the process of transfeminization (how individuals’ identities* become transmisogyny-confined) is that it necessitates a rejection (at least to a certain extent) of one’s assigned maleness and a simultaneous transition towards femininity/womanhood, even if one doesn’t specifically label themselves as a woman or fem.

*(Btw, I’m not trying to play idpol here, I’m just using the word “identity” to mean “the category into which a stratified society places you based on certain characteristics like gender”)

It’s both of these things in tandem that creates the intersection between oppositional and traditional sexism that we know as transmisogyny: transitioning toward womanhood invalidates the idea that “man” and “woman” are distinct, unchanging categories, and rejecting male assignment invalidates the idea that manhood is inherently superior to womanhood.

So, with that said… Are GNC cis men TMA? Are they only TMA if they specifically call themselves femboys or sissies?

They’re certainly discriminated against, in the same way that femininity is always viewed as lesser, no matter who embodies it. But proximity to transfemininity, being mistaken for a trans woman, does not a transmisogyny-confined identity make.

To put it another way: I’ve seen trans men call themselves femboys before, and I think we can all agree that they are not TMA, but they are still feminine men. It’s just that transfemininity, the way it’s defined by and marginalized within a transmisogynistic society, is not treated the same as being a feminine man (see: the third-gendering/degendering of trans women), and I do believe it’s because of that rejection of male assignment that it’s not.

I don’t think whether or not someone calls themself a femboy or a sissy is entirely irrelevant to whether or not they’re TMA, of course not. But I also don’t think the two are inherently interlinked. I don’t think these identities are inherently transfeminized because, at the end of the day, they’re just words that some people call themselves, rather vague identity labels, and what you call yourself is not what makes you TMA, as you said.

Does that mean femboys or sissies aren’t/can’t be TMA? Of course not. But I also don’t think that GNC cis men (regardless of what specific labels they use for themselves) being interpersonally discriminated against for their proximity to transfemininity makes them TMA — makes their identities inherently confined by the entire system of oppression that is transmisogyny — anymore than TME trans people’s proximity to trans women makes them TMA.

So, I guess my real question is just: What exactly is this post about? Because if it’s not about GNC cis men who call themselves femboys and sisses, if it’s only about femboys and sissies who are neither cis nor transfem… Then, again I have to ask, why does a line need to be drawn when the only distinction between these two groups of TMA people, transfems and non-transfem femboys/sissies, is the particular words they choose to label themselves with?

And I really want to stress, I’m not asking this to be inflammatory or contrarian or anything, I am genuinely curious because I feel like I’ve missed out on some crucial context here.

I have seen TME people time and time again insist that “actually everybody is TMA,” and then use this talking point as a subtle ploy to just get transfems to shut up about transmisogyny. So I will fully admit that I reflexively dismiss arguments about how “GNC men are TMA” or “all intersex people are TMA” or “[whoever else they decide to tokenize this week] are TMA” when I see them because of that prior experience. But I don’t want to do that with this post since I don’t feel at all like that’s what it’s advocating.

I may be way off the mark here, but I figured I’d just ask, ‘cause it’s an interesting discussion either way.

it’s low-key kind of crazy when people say “femboys aren’t TMA and if you need proof just see how little people care about XYZ femboy since she came out as transfem” because this is literally just the same “closeted/stealth transfems can’t be transmisogyny affected” argument all over again. like explain to me how y’all can agree that closeted/stealth trans women aren’t transmisogyny exempt but femboys/sissies are? it isn’t a privilege to have to sexualise yourself and present your identity a certain way to get work or recognition. just because any person assigned male at birth asserting their identity as a woman specifically results in a specific kind of transmisogyny doesn’t mean that people assigned male at birth who present femininely but don’t identify as women aren’t transmisogyny affected. and just because some femboys/sissies only present femininely because of a kink doesn’t mean they wouldn’t lose their jobs, homes, families, friends & partners if somebody found out. transmisogyny is not determined by our personal identities for fucks sake that’s why we can’t identify out of it. we need to quit the idpol shit for real.

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 C.Kent

author's note: im going to start put warnings on my posts!

warnings: 18+, smut

the fortress of solitude felt colder than usual, though clark wasn’t sure if it was the endless arctic winds or the icy glares you’d been shooting his way since he brought you here. your normally warm, witty demeanor was gone, replaced by a biting edge that he didn’t recognize and definitely didn’t appreciate.

“this is the best you’ve got, boy scout?” you sneered, your arms crossed over your chest. “you fly me to your crystal igloo because what—your big alien brain couldn’t figure out how to handle this on your own?”

clark sighed, his patience wearing thin. “you’re not yourself,” he said, his voice measured but firm. “whatever infected you is messing with your emotions. i’m trying to help you, but you’re making it pretty damn difficult.”

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “you don’t like that i’m not worshipping you like the rest of metropolis? guess what, superman—you’re not as perfect as you think you are.”

the venom in your words stung, but clark kept his composure. he’d seen you infected before—by kryptonite, mind control, even magic—but this was different. you weren’t just angry. you were downright mean, and it was getting under his skin in a way that made him both frustrated and... unsettled.

his gaze flicked over your body, searching for any physical signs of the infection. your skin glowed faintly, a sheen of sweat catching the fortress’s cool light. the labored rise and fall of your chest was rhythmic but heavy, as if your body was fighting itself from the inside out.

“i need to run a scan,” clark said, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside him.

“oh, do you?” you snapped, stepping closer, your lips curling into a smirk. “go ahead, scan away, mr. perfect. maybe you’ll find out i’m too much woman for you to handle.”

his jaw tightened, but he forced himself to ignore your taunts. he guided you toward the kryptonian scanner, his large hands surprisingly gentle despite the tension. you didn’t resist, but you made it clear you weren’t going to make things easy.

“you know,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “maybe i don’t want to be cured. maybe i like feeling this free, this... wild. ever think of that, farm boy?”

clark stepped back, trying to ignore the way your tone sent an unexpected jolt through him. his fingers moved over the console as the scanner activated, its blue light bathing you in an otherworldly glow.

“there,” he muttered, his brow furrowing as the screen displayed the results. a foreign substance, glowing faintly red, was coursing through your bloodstream. it wasn’t kryptonite, but it was definitely kryptonian in origin.

“whatever it is, it’s amplifying your emotions,” clark said, his voice calm but firm. “we need to purge it from your system.”

“oh, yeah? and how exactly do you plan to do that?” you challenged, stepping closer, your breath brushing against his cheek. “gonna lecture it out of me? because that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? being a self-righteous boy scout?”

his patience snapped, but instead of retreating, he leaned in, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “you want to know how i’m going to get it out of you?” his voice dropped, his usual warmth replaced by something darker, more commanding. “i’m going to use every bit of strength i have to break its hold on you. and when i’m done, you’re going to remember exactly who you are.”

your smirk faltered, but only for a moment. “big talk for someone who can’t handle a little attitude,” you shot back, though your voice wavered.

clark didn’t respond. instead, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against one of the fortress’s crystalline walls. his touch was firm but not rough, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke.

“this isn’t you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “but if this is what it takes to bring you back, then so be it.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, your defiance faltering for the first time. before you could muster another snarky remark, his lips were on yours—hot, demanding, and relentless. he kissed you like he was trying to break the infection’s hold with sheer force, his tongue parting your lips to claim you completely.

you gasped into his mouth, the fiery anger in your veins starting to twist, morph, into something just as hot but far more desperate. his hands moved with purpose, sliding down your body to grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly against the wall.

“clark—” your voice wavered, caught between a plea and a growl.

“trust me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost commanding.

his hands slid between your thighs, spreading them wide as his fingers found the slick heat pooling there. he didn’t hesitate, his touch firm and deliberate, his fingers stroking over your clit with a precision that made your head fall back against the crystal wall.

your body betrayed you, hips bucking against his hand as his touch grew more insistent. his thumb circled your clit while his fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside with maddening skill.

“you’re fighting it,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers curled inside you, pressing against a spot that sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body. “don’t. let go.”

your hands clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric of his suit as he worked you with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. his fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, the rhythm of his movements building a pressure inside you that felt impossible to contain.

“clark, i—” your voice broke, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“let it out,” he commanded, his voice steady, unwavering. “all of it.”

and then it happened. the pressure inside you shattered, a blinding wave of release that ripped through your body, leaving you trembling in his arms. your vision blurred, your cries echoing through the fortress as your body convulsed, slick heat spilling onto his hand as he coaxed every last drop from you.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost soothing. his fingers slowed, drawing out your release until you were spent, your body sagging against him.

the red glow in your eyes faded, replaced by the warmth and softness he knew so well. as you came back to yourself, clark held you close, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“you’re okay,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “i’ve got you.”

you looked up at him, your cheeks flushed, your lips trembling. “clark... i—”

“don’t,” he interrupted, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “you’ve been through enough. just let me take care of you.”

and for once, you did.