#It is a little expensive for me to get into another hobby (

[icewindandboringhorror]

If you became super rich and could design your own house, but could only add THREE unnecessary/random/expensive home additions (like how people will have bowling alleys, movie theatres, closets with museums of shoes, car display rooms, spa rooms, wine cellars, etc. in their mansions) - what three would you choose?

[selvepnea]

I can't believe that cigarette post made me look into vapes u_u

[boccellizv]

⠀⠀ཐི ˚̣̣̣ ⠀⠀ husband!sylus spoils you rotten⠀ ˚̣̣̣ ཋྀ

synopsis: sylus’ just a man who’s blindly in love at the end of the day. a man who’s also ridiculously rich and happens to be married to a little angel who loves pink and shiny things ꒰՞◌• ༝ •◌꒱♡

tw: more fluff (i just need him to take care of me), usage of ‘daddy, reader is a sweatheart, money doesn’t have value for these people at all, reader is very feminine and materialistic (sylus’ fault), mentions of pregnancy and baby fever, he smokes, etc.

being laid down on top of the pink fluffy blanket covering the big four-seater leather couch while waiving your feet slowly and scrolling mindlessly through your favorite luxury brands’ websites was definitely a hobby; an expensive hobby.

but weren’t those pink miumiu ballerinas just so perfect for the spring? and what about that dior shoulder bag? the handle made out of white gold with little diamonds creating details around the fabric? to the cart it goes.

let’s not even get started with make up, knowing how much sylus liked it when you wore this crimson chanel lipstick to his prestigious meetings, you just had to buy another one, and it had to be the limited edition, too… ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

he was more than okay with you leaving him dry (he has money for infinite lifetimes) every other day, handing you his black card when you two started dating a year ago; got married two months after.

sylus just had to make you his wife, his trophy, you were so perfect to his eyes, his ideal type. everything about you, physically and mentally fit with him like a puzzle. like a barbie to her ken.

and he was so… so. god, he was like a god (he kinda was). tall, fit, deep voice, pretty face, beautiful eyes, soft hair… and a plus to that, he was rich and influential. and he wanted you and only you! ૮ ෆ ´ ˕ ` ෆ ა

so you just clicked on the ‘check out’ button and wrote down the digits you ended up learning by heart, caressing the rock on your finger while waiting for the confirmation of your order.

sure, these expensive goods took longer than usual to be shipped, blah blah blah. sylus was one of the richest men in the country, his name was written in gold on every luxury brand list. when they saw he ordered something, anything, even just a hair clip, he was prioritized.

you happily jumped out of your seat, skipped with joy towards your husbands office, knocking before hearing a clear ‘come in’ from him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “daddy, daddy! wanna see what i got for tomorrow’s party?” you asked with that sweat tone that you only reserved for him, sitting on his expensive wooden desk and swinging your feet.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “of course i do, kitten, lemme see.” he closed his laptop immediately, pulling the tall leather chair closer to your small frame and holding your ankles between his slender fingers, massaging your manicured feet while you scrolled through your phone to show him pictures and the inspo you got out of pinterest.

you started to rant about all the things you bought with his money, gaining low hums while he stared at you with heart-shaped eyes, an erase-able smile plastered of his sculpted face.

sylus loved it when you used his money and then bragged about it, loved it when someone complimented your outfit at a fancy dinner and you kindly thanked, saying your husband bought it for you.

but his favorite part of this whole process was when you made him sit on your bed which was filled with high-end bags, so many that the sheets weren’t even visible anymore, and gave him a detailed haul of everything, with try on included (by his request).

he’d order you to twirl around while he sipped on some french wine and smoked his cuban tobacco, manspreading so you could stand between his legs and allow him to take in every detail.

ever since he started dating you he slowly noticed these expensive brands paid crazy amount of attention to every detail, and he loved tracing the intricate shapes printed on the fabric while complimenting you.

but you were no selfish! no sir, you also bought things for your beloved, fantasizing about matching outfits with him, ordering him light colored clothes; things he’d never wear if it wasn’t for you.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “mm, what else do we have here… i don’t even remember what i got this time.” you mumbled while you stood on your knees on top of the mattress, throwing the empty bags away as you looked for the ones you haven’t opened yet.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “oh. my. god. sylus, close your eyes.” you told him trying to mask your excitement, grabbing the huge bag between weak fingers and placing it in front of him. “open them now, look.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “isn’t this too big for you, honey?” he questioned leaving the cigarette in the ashtray, holding the white leopard fur coat up, the tag said ‘dolce & gabbana’, one of his favorite brands.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “no, silly. it’s for you. i thought you’d look so good with it on.” you revealed, grabbing his hand to coax him into standing up, stripping him naked out of his shirt and getting on your tippy toes to dress him with said coat.

he really looked expensive with it on, showing off his trained abs and juicy pecs while making his broad figure appear even more prominent, the neck chain he often wore visible.

he wasn’t used to using big pieces like this, but he let you style him as a mere mannequin; he’d always get more compliments then usual on his outfits ever since you started matching them with yours.

he’d often caught you checking out baby clothes or nursery furniture when your period got close, too. and couldn’t help but imagine how good of a mother you’d be, how beautiful you’d look in your sleeping gowns with a swollen belly.

if sylus already cherished you in front of everyone, proud of showing you off as his wife, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of showing off an entire family ૮꒰ ྀི ◜ . ◝ ྀི꒱ა

but there was time for that, you were too young still and he wasn’t going to age or die any time soon.

he just hoped you wouldn’t ask for a baby; he didn’t know how to decline you.

a/n: i’ve been an unfaithful girl writing sm about caleb and neglecting my favorite boy sy like this :(

— masterlist.

[squiddy-god]

types of affection

(xiao, childe, albedo, zhongli)

What types of affection do they prefer giving and receiving? Yet another re upload

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN♥︎ don't be shy, send request for any of the fandoms on my fandom list, you can even recommend shows/games if they aren't there. Or even if you just want to chat! Anon is also always open!

Xiao 

Giving : gift giving, acts of service 

Alright so xiao knows very little about affection, his words are to rigid and his actions stiff, so those are out- 

But he gifts you things, its cute really, the bright blush on his face when he gifts you unusual gifts. 

Anything that reminds you of him, a pinecone he saw under leaves, small trinkets and animals made from leafs, rocks and smooth stones he finds by the water reeds, anything really

You won't know it at first but all the gifts he gives you are adeptal amulets, they ward of evil and bring protection, he'd never admit this fact but it's true, he fears for you so if you find hilichurls suddenly running from you its most likely coming from the small gift xiao gave 

Acts of service can vary, anything from accompanying you on a commission to clearing out a camp of hillichurls that was in your path, xiao finds himself doing little things for you

Receiving : acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time 

Xiao has been serving liuye for thousands of years, if you do anything for him hes going to be smitten 

Xiao likes to say that the things he does is solely his burden to carry, but the things you do for him he appreciates greatly, anything from making him almond tofu to rubbing his shoulders after a fight

His favorite to receive is if you play an instrument, even just humming a tune, it calms him and lets him feel at ease, like the karmic debt no longer beats on his soul. 

While xiao is stiff when giving physical affection at first, to scared of hurting you to initiate it, he does love it 

Xiao has most likely never felt or has forgotten the feeling of genuine physical affection, the feeling of your skin against his, your hands spread against his chest, its addicting t him 

Xiao likes to feel loved, the fact that you want him close to you, that you feel safe in his arms, it warms his heart and makes him realise what he's been missing for so long, and now that he knows the feeling, he craves it 

Xiao won't initiate physical touch, but he longs for it, and if you're on the roof of Wangshu Inn he expects you to be near him, as close as possible.

Xiao is insecure, his thoughts rage and cloud his mind, he often has doubts, and while he knows that you wouldn't simply leave him, and he has faith in you, words of affirmation are appreciated 

Tell him that he's loved, that you aren't going anywhere, that he’s enough and will always be enough

He claims he doesn't need reassurance but the way his arms hold you tighter says otherwise 

Xiao is also a fan of quality time, simply being in your presence calms him and he craves the feeling of you next to him. 

At times like this spoken words are not needed, he just wants to know your next to him.

Childe (tartaglia) 

Giving : gift giving, acts of service, physical touch 

While the concept is the same, the execution is far different from xiao 

Childe gifts you lots of expensive things, if he sees it and ir remiss him of you, or you stare at something to long- there's no holding him back 

That being said all of his gifts are very well thought out and usually very sentimental 

He gifts things that have meaning, things that relate to your interest and hobbies- and trust me, he knows all of your interest and hobbies (S I M P) 

I have a headcanon that childe is hopelessly pathetic at arts and crafts, it always ends up as a disaster and he gets embarrassed, so he’s probably tried to make you something and it turned out,,,charming yet awful,,,he was about to scrap it when you saw it and it's probably the only time you've seen mr. saveu fatui so flustered 

Childes acts of service are a lot difret from xiaos-

Xiao wants to make your life a little easier, childe wants a hit list 

Deadass this man wants names and, if you would be so kind, addresses 

If you need someone taken care of then he's your man, and he gets excited about it too (psychopath) 

Of course he’ll also do normal things for you, like helping you lift boxes too heavy for you, or beating up hillichurls, he’ll even cook for you! He’ll honestly do anything you ask (S I M P) 

Childe is especially clingy as work takes him away so often, besides that he strikes me and a generally touchy guy, he likes to feel close to you 

Big fan of having you in his lap but he’ll settle for anything he can get, be it hand holding or an arm around your waste he’ll take it. 

Receiving : gift giving, physical touch, words of affirmation 

Child doesn't want you to buy thing for him, he wants handmade things, even if your as hopeless as he is, his heart melts if you gift him something you made,

Anything you make him becomes one of his most treasured possessions, it becomes something he genuinely cherishes and he wont shut up about it 

He’ll gush about it for weeks and no one can stop him 

As i said before, childe is a touchy guy, he likes to feel you against him, but you initiate affection? YES YES YES YES YES sign him up 

 He seems like he'd enjoy if you came up behind him and hugged him, hed tease you at first but inside hes melting and squealing 

Praise him, he lives for it tbh 

If he beat a hard monster tell him how strong he is, childe is a prideful man and your praise is something he greatly enjoys 

Complimenting him on just about anything will get you rewarded with a barrage of kisses and a firm hug 

Btw he gives great hugs, theyre strong hugs that make you think “holy hell did you fight a bear?” and they have a warmth to them that makes you feel at home. He doesn't do side hugs, it's full on hugs or no hugs 

Back to words, if you get sappy and genuinely sentimental he will get SO flustered 

Albedo 

Giving : quality time, gift giving 

Albedo loves spending time with you, weather you simply keep him company during his experiments or walking with him thru the streets of mondstat, albedo loves spending time with you 

Claims he focuses better if your in his presence (it's a total lie) 

Albedo likes to be able to sit with you while you eat, he's big on eating together and it gives him a (much needed) break 

He also loves taking walks with you, the closeness brings a warm feeling to his chest and a smile to his face 

Albedo also enjoys giving you pictures, often times theyre of you or things that make him think of you, anything from a sketch of you working or of a flower that made him think of you, a cute bird or a simple landscape, no matter what the sketch is of he always takes time to explain exactly why he decided to sketch that particular item or moment 

His reasons are always very sweet, especially when he shyly tells you he just thought you looked cute in that moment. 

Don't be surprised if you get a random branch or twig on your desk or nightstand, because albedo with casually take leaves and turn them into twigs (like in his idle animation) especially when he finds his mind wandering to you

Albedo is a sweetheart and wants to spend time with you.

Receiving : quality time and acts of service 

Albedo loves that you want to spend time with him, he wants you to be as interested in him as he is with you, so your enthusiasm to spend time with him makes him happy

He likes doing domestic things with you, cooking, cleaning, eating meals together are all things he greatly enjoys

He also loves it if your interested in his work, sitting and watching him work makes his heart soar and makes him feel loved 

Look, i like albedos voice a lot, it so calming and gentle- so like, sitting in bed by candle light, leaned against albedos shoulder while he reads outloud, occasionally planting a kiss on the crown of your head

Iubuhvgycftttcygvmhubjjinosudhufhfdsjhfshs

Albedo appreciates you doing little things for him (his quest be like) 

This isn't just you running errands for him but also things like bringing him a little snack or a cup of water, dusting his study (don't move things, just dust) helping him button his shirt (dse it even have buttons?) things like that, small things that just make his life a little easier 

*cough* kissing his temple and handing him a cup of coffee, sleepy voice whispering a little encouragement while he turns to give you a proper kiss. *cough* 

Overall albedo is very chill and his affection is much the same, gentle domestic things and time spent together never fails to put a smile on his face 

I love domestic albedo 

Zhongli 

Another domestic husband 

Giving : quality time and words of affirmation 

Zhongli absolutely LOVES quality time spent with you, he loves to simply be able to bask in your presence, to calmly sip tea and listen to your voice 

Its often that zhongli will be sitting quietly in whatever room your in, it doesn't matter what your doing, be it dishes or reading, he’ll be sitting and watching you with nothing but adoration in his eyes 

He also loves when you sit next to him, curled up by his side while he reads to you or tells you stories 

His voice is *chef kiss* and listening to his storeys is always so calming 

The gentle like filtering threw the windows as his voice recounts tales of many years ago, his gloved thumb gently smoothing over your cheek. His arm wrapped around your shoulders as you sip your tea and eagerly listen to him. 

Zhongli is domestic, long hours of time where he does nothing but savor the feeling of being with you, no need for spoken words when everything feels as if it has slipped into place. 

Zhongli has a very proper way of speaking, his words carry the weight of mountains behind them, nothing spoken without meaning and intent behind them

Zhongli has no issue speaking his mind, and the same applies to you. 

He gives lots of complements, especially when he notices something different about you 

You'll never doubt zhonglis love, how could you when his words are always spoken like facts? 

I mean how can you argue when he states complements as if theyre set in stone? 

The simple answer is that you can't. And if you try to argue you’ll face the wrath of the rock (his kisses lmao)

Receiving : physical affection and quality time  

Shhhhhhhhhhh- zhongli loves physical affection and i'll die on this hill

 Zhongli after so many lonly years finally has you,  and he longs for the touch of your hands and the feeling of your lips on his 

Zhongli melts into your touch, leaving into your hand cupping his face while he kisses your wrist with the utmost gentleness 

Zhongli can't imagine he's comfortable to cuddle with, his skin is tight and has little to no give, his body is as hard as a rock, yet you snuggle into his side- it always brings a smile to his face 

Zhongli is not an impulsive man yet he is often overcome with the burning urge to kiss you, he thinks hes slick but its all to obvious how his eyes drift and fixate on your lips, if you look close enough you might even see the way his pupils dilate, drawing into thinner slits when they stare

Zhongli loves if you take the time to get ready with him in the mornings, spending the morning with you is always very pleasant 

Idk bout you but i'd be glad to get woken up if i was getting woken up by zhonglis voice 

He wakes up early and brews tea every morning, and once its done he’ll rub circles on your back to gently wake you up, placing a kiss on your head and asking how you slept. 

PLEASE offer to tie his tie for him he will melt 

Hed smile and let you tie his tie, gently taking your wrists in his large hands and placing a kiss on your knuckles before planting a kiss on your lips 

Domestic zhongli is the best zhongli

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Kylar x Reader⭐️

Premise: You're a streamer, and your biggest fan really really likes you

Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, gn reader

Minors DNI

Bright lights flash in your eyes, your fingers rapidly bashing buttons on your keyboard, your other hand furiously clicking your mouse. You whine as your character suddenly falls to the ground, dead.

"Ok, guys! Ok, I get it! I know I'm not that good at this game! No need to tease me!" You laugh. Inside, you're a bit peeved. These stinky bastards aren't here for your gameplay so they better shut up. Shut up and enjoy their eye candy. You're currently streaming an online first-person shooter. You made your little hobby into a little side hustle not too long ago. Guys love watching hot people play games and it's proven to be profitable. "I'm cute? Well thank you, Mr. Husband!" This guy is a regular. Gotta give him those shout-outs he practically pays for.

As much as it hurts to deal with these weirdos, It helps with expenses. You've even seen Robins username pop in and out quickly, probably hoping you didn't see. At first, you were uncomfortable with acting all sweet for your audience, but you warmed up to the idea when it started staving off your bastard Landlord at the orphanage you live in, Bailey. You play games dressed sexy, say sweet dumb things and the money comes pouring in.

These poor, lonely guys send you money in hopes you'll give them a crumb of attention, and you do. Sometimes, you say their names. You don't exactly care that you're taking their money at all. It's a gift! It's not like you forced them to give you money, nor did you even ask. They just want a chance to get in your pants and you're not gonna stop them from dreaming. You can't count the number of times people in the chat have asked if you have an onlyfans.

You'd never, of course, date one of these pigs. You imagine your viewers are stinky, slimy, greasy and would cum in their pants at just seeing you in person. Their whole body is probably sticky to the touch and shower maybe once a month they probably have piss filled mountain dew bottles on the floor next to their pc and shit stains on their seat. You're pretty sure a few guys in the comments are jerking off as you stream this very second.

A few times, you've received ominous messages in the comments from different users, almost threatening you for some ridiculous problem they have with you. How you play, what you're wearing, or just your face, so you make sure to always hide your location and are very vague about your personal life. You're used to them being weird, saying things about what they'd do to you if they were alone with yo- Just have to learn to ignore it. You calm yourself down.

"Well, that's enough for today, I'm getting sleepy! It was nice playing with you today. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, love you!" You blow a kiss at the camera. You see people commenting their 'i love you too's and whining about how you could stay a bit longer' in the chat before you disconnect. You made $540 from that two-hour stream. You received most of it from the same person. Mr.Husband. Not one minute after closing the stream, you get a message. You thought you disabled direct messages? You notice that it's to your personal account that's open on another tab from an unnamed account. No bio, no profile picture.

New user: Hey

New user: Do you want to meet up sometime? For coffee?

You: Who's this?

New user: I'm Kylar. You can get to know me when we get coffee.

You: Uh no? How the fuck do you know me?

New user: I love your streams, pretty. Drop the fucking attitude before you piss me off. I knew you'd be more of a bitch off-camera. You just look too good to be good hearted. You have to be taught obedience. You're lucky I care about you so much.

You: Keep your tiny prick away from me. I never want to see you in my presence. Disgusting. Ugly pig. Do me a favor and never ever leave your dirty cave. Go fuck yourself

New user: Wanna watch?

*New user has now been blocked*

You stand up and walk away from your computer. how the fuck did he find your actual account? You don't even have your real name anywhere. You start to undress, not noticing your computer's camera has flicked on again.

In a dark room, a man fists his massive cock slowly, eyes trailing up and down his obsession through the screen. His mind is filled with all the things he wants to do to a little cock tease like you. Ruin you, break you, crush you under his weight, teach you a lesson for whoring yourself out. A cute treat like you should have better manners "Pig...tiny prick. Ah, (y/n) I can't let you just say those things to your husband." he watches as you slide your underwear down, eyes zeroing in on the crevice between your thighs as you bend over. He shudders as hot baby batter coats his chest and thighs, continuing to roll down his cock in fat globs.

Two days later, you're walking back home from a late shift at the cafe. You plan to stream when you get home.

Something is watching you.

Cold sweat dribbles down the back of your neck. You shiver, the cold night air doing nothing to calm you. You can feel eyes drilling holes into your back. You picked up your pace, your eyes darting all around. Who is it? What do they want? You think you can hear footsteps not far away. They're getting closer. You break into a sprint and make it to Danube street before you're tackled to the ground. All air is pushed from your lungs, depleting you of oxygen. You do your best to fight against your unseen attacker, but they're far too strong. You try to scream, but only a wheeze comes out. The man roughly picks you up like a sack of potatoes under his arm and carries you into a mansion nearby.

He walked down a flight of stairs and threw you to the ground. You tried to scramble away, but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him. You get a look at his face in the dim light. He's handsome, but his expression strikes fear in your heart. Fury is the only word you can think of to describe it. You scream and flail your limbs wildly, trying to get him the fuck off of you. You hear a crack and before you realize what happened, your cheek is burning. "Shut." Smack "The." Smack "Fuck." Smack "Up." He's seething by the end. Your head was knocked back into the ground by the last hit. A dribble of blood runs down your nose, your cheeks completely red and moderately swollen. You're no longer trying to fight him, head far too foggy to do anything but lay there in pain.

"I'm sorry, baby." He huffs, calming down a bit. "Don't fight me and that won't have to happen again." He wiped at the blood on your face with his thumb, cradling your cheek. A blush creeps over his face along with a deranged smile as he stares down at you with his unblinking eyes. "You're just so perfect. Everything." You feel a bulge forming atop you where he's straddled. He pants heavily as he looks you up and down. Hot tears slip down your swollen cheeks at the realization that you can't get yourself out of this one.

You lie completely still as he palms his crotch in front of you. "I...I'm kylar...you said I have a small prick, (Y/n)... That wasn't very nice. You should say things like that to your husband." You stare at him in awe...it's..the guy from the chat. did he find you? He's crazy. He's insane. He's gonna kill you. Your chest heaves up and down uncontrollably. You feel blood rushing to your ears, feeling the most fear you've ever felt in your entire life. He takes notice of your panic attack and tries to calm you. "H-hey! Shhh, it's ok, just breathe!" You don't hear a word he's saying and thrash wildly again. Your legs kick underneath him, but his body doesn't budge an inch.

You freeze when you feel his lips smash onto yours. He grabs your wrists in one hand above your head, effectively immobilizing you. It feels like he's trying to eat you, no longer caring about your little tantrum. "Just stay still." He mutters as his large hands roam up and down your body like he's waited his life for this moment. You feel his ever growing bulge rub against your stomach. He grabs your hands before you could try to fight him again.

"...You know...I've been giving you my good money, (Y/n). All because I knew how hard it was to live on your own. But now you're here with me. You'll be my personal house whore." You feel his breath hit your cheek. "Please...let me go. I didn't do anything to you!" You're full on sobbing at this point and to your horror, you feel his cock twitch against you.

"Oh fuck! Keep crying for me like that, baby." He's clawing your pants. Your eyes dart around the room for anything that can help you, but your blood runs cold when you just see hundreds of photos of you plastered all over his walls, some even on his ceiling. You hear a loud tear. This animal ripped your pants and underwear in the process of ridding them from your body.

You're a shaking mess as he cups your sex in his hand. "K-Kylar, please!" You cry, trying to appeal to his humanity. He groans, a little wet spot of pre cum appears on his crotch. "Say my name again." He demanded. His fingers rim around your hole, threatening to dive in. You quiver at the feeling. He unzipped his pants and you feel something impossibly large, heavy and hot slam onto your stomach with a thud.

He releases you momentarily and moves himself lower on your body, his head between your legs. His arms circle around your thighs in a vice grip. He takes a strong whiff and lets out a moan. You feel his tongue slide up and down your sex as his fingers plat around with your hole before dipping half a finger in. You're too dry, it hurts! You whine and struggle, uncomfortable. His finger dips all the way in, uncaring for your pleasure. You scream as he continues to thrust his finger inside you as his mouth engulfs your sex. He removes his finger and lifts himself off you. You sigh in relief.

That relief dies as you feel his meaty cock push at your hole. He begins to push in, but your hole resists. It's too big. He lets out a sound of annoyance before spitting on his hand and rubbing the liquid up and down his cock. It does little to help aid in his entrance. "This may hurt a bit…a lot actually." He wicked grin stretches across his face before he rears his hips back and forces his cock through. You let out a blood curdling scream he rips through your insides. He's only halfway in, your walls desperately trying to push him back out. He holds onto your waist and pulls you into him, bottoming out. You feel like you're bleeding, but you're too afraid to look down.

You can hardly breathe. His cock feels like it's in your stomach. Your body twitches, hot tears slipping past the corners of your eyes as you wheeze out please for mercy. He only looks down at you in awe at your beauty. "Oh, you're so cute like this! I knew you could take it! I know it hurts now, but just give it time." His thumb rubs at your tears. There's nothing you can do to get out of this. You feel completely helpless.He pulls himself out, and slowly goes back in, groaning. "Fuck, you're so tight" he grunts. You close your eyes and hear a flash. Your eyes snap open to see he's holding a camera. A blinding light fills your vision along with a 'click'. This sick fuck.

You let out an involuntary moan when he shoves himself into you at just the right angle. He presses himself deep inside you, holding himself there, his cock hugging your sweet spot. "Ah (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!" He chants your name like a mantra at each thrust, but you can barely hear him. All you can do is feel him. Hurt hurts so bad but feels equally as good.

You can't help but let little sounds of pain and pleasure spill from your lips as his hips ram into yours. You look up to see his eyes are completely rolled back. His lips press wet kisses to your cheek. You feel a knot start to build in your lower stomach without your consent and you feel yourself lift onto cloud nine. "Oh (Y/n), cum for me! Cum for your husband!" He moans. You feel shame and pleasure wash over you as you do just that. You clench around him, his breath hitches in his throat at the feeling. He slams into you harder and harder. The over stimulation is killing you now. It's too much!

You think he might break something inside you, you think his dick might knock your brain out of your skull with how hard he's pounding. You feel like your organs will never be the same. "Gonna get you pregnant, gonna breed you again and again. Gonna have my babies. We'll be great parents!" His muttering awakens what's left of the fight in you. "Ah! N-no, stop! I-I can't!" His hand slams over your mouth, his bottomless green eyes staring directly into yours. He lifts your legs up and puts them over his shoulders in a tight mating press.

He hits your special spot and your eyes roll back. He can reach far deeper like this. He slams into you with one final thrust, pressing into you with his full weight. You can't breathe. The over stimulation finally comes for you and you cum all over his cock again. You feel his cock twitch before unloading what seems to be an endless supply of semen into you. You can almost hear the wet sound of him cumming inside you. Your lower stomach rises by the sheer volume of cum produced. You wonder if he used to be a bull at Remy's farm or something. That thought quickly vanishes along with your whole mind as your brain is unable to produce anymore thoughts.

With a satisfied sigh, he pulls his slipping wet cock out of you, a rush of lightly pink cum following after, quickly stopping when he plugs you up with a small plug. His cock isn't even fully soft. You pray he doesn't decide he wants a round two. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? You were crying for nothing." He pants. He kisses your temple before picking you up by your waist, once again like a sack of potatoes in one arm. He walks over to a mattress on the floor and drops you on it, your body softly bouncing on top before settling in a heap. He had a mattress the whole time and still fucked you on the cold, dirty cement floor!? You hear a click and see he's chained your right angle to the wall. He smiles at you and pevks you on the lips the way a husband would before leaving to work. His mood did a 180. He's so very cheerful, his handsome face cheerfully grinning down at you like you're a cute little kitten.

"You did really well today, (Y/n), my love. I'll be back tomorrow. You won't get dinner tonight because you fought me so much, but you'll learn to behave. I want to treat you better, so please be good for me. Goodnight." With that, your new 'husband' stands up to his full height and walks upstairs, leaving you in the cold pitch darkness of the basement.

[amphitriteswife]

Jaegyeon na dating headcanons! Sfw and Nsfw

I was too impatient to finish the other ones so yeah-

@yue-yolk

_______________

✨ Dating Jaegyeon na means you’re dating the definition of a mood swing. Sometimes he’s all flirty and confident, the other he’s childish and whiny.

✨ He likes it if you ask him to drop you off somewhere or pick you up. He shows off Initial N and calls it his ‘baby’. Don’t call it junk or he’ll lose his shit.

✨ Loves shopping. If you tell him you’re shopping he’ll either ask to go with you or invites himself. Usually ends up buying expensive clothes and necklaces. They’re not for you though. This one’s for him. He’ll buy yours next time

✨ ‘hey Y/n get me ice cream’ ‘no get it yourself.’ ‘Could’ve told me to cut off my balls as well.’ He takes little things seriously. Not always but usually. Sometimes its for comical reasons and sometimes he’s just insecure

✨ fragile masculinity. He’s the type to freak out if you call him pretty boy because ‘he’s not pretty. He’s handsome.’ He thinks of himself as very manly man.

✨ LOVES kissing. Doesn’t even have to be intimate, he just likes kisses or kissing. You did something nice for him? He gives you a kiss on the forehead. He missed you? He kisses your cheek. He just feels happy? He’s placing his lips on yours. They’re not always super long, sometimes just a peck.

✨ very active on socials. He watches your stories everyday and likes your every post. Always responds to them too, sometimes goofy and sometimes serious. Or its just an excuse to text you. ‘Babes plz buy me that too i want to be matchy.’ ‘Babee who’s that in your story?’ ‘Stop putting DG in your story his music isn’t that good. I’m better looking.’

✨ He’s a jealous boyfriend. No matter what gender or who it is he’s still jealous. He’ll also get defensive about it and start sulking if you point it out. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s sometimes feeling like that.

✨ babe. Who is that in your instagram story?’ ‘Thats my best friend. You met her.’ ‘Okay but even so why am I not your only bestie????’

✨ ‘babe why are you saying happy birthday in your story?’ ‘Because one of my friend is having their birthday.’ ‘Okay but you didn’t even congratulate me today too?’ It was in fact not his birthday he just wanted attention.

✨ Attention seeker. Man cannot stand you having eyes for someone else, well just being very close to someone that isn’t him. He wants to be your bestie and boyfriend. Just like how you are to him. He wants to be your number one. Just like how you are…together with Initial N.

✨ You can see him kissing his car sometimes. He’s not even embarrassed by it, but he does make it a point if you say that it’s disgusting. ‘You’re just jealous that i kiss my baby a lot….i love you dont leave me.’

✨ NEEDS to sleep in your bed. He hijacked it. He thinks your bed and house is more comfortable than his so he sleeps over a lot of times. He likes snuggling up to you though, especially in the winter

✨ if he’s at your house he makes himself comfortable very fast. Its yalls house now. He usually goes into your closet or looks trough most of your stuff to see what you do and don’t have

✨ He does online shopping a lot, mostly buys clothes or unnecessary and stupid things since he’s rich and has money to waste. This time he did buy you things too.

✨ Likes outgoing dates, he likes parties, clubbing and concerts but also enjoys museums, markets and cinema’s. Anything you like too. He’ll probably make your hobby his own so that he can see you get happy about it.

✨ He probably does car racing in his free time and usually takes you with him. Most of the time he only watched and just stays by your side. If he’s out racing and sees you with another guy, he’ll get jealous and give you the silent treatment

🔞 Man’s a horny dog okay? He’e not always like that but sometimes. Sometimes it can get real intimate. He’s not ashamed by it either. And if you match his freakiness its even better

🔞 Calls you ‘princess’ or ‘queen’ depending on which one you prefer. He takes pride in it if you like the nickname too and uses it regularly. But usually his voice is soft and a little hoarse when he does.

🔞 He might moan his own name or Inital N during sex on accident. It’s an honest mistake okay? ‘Ugh King you’re doing great.’ ‘The hell????’ ‘Sorry babes I got carried away’

🔞This man is sensitive asf. Touch his body with your hands. He loves it. The way your hand glides across his skin and squeezes his muscles…the way your lips press against his neck and whispered against it…he might come only by that.

🔞 definition of a switch but is definitely leaning on a little more bratty sub side. He will not listen to you. He’ll act super childish and selfish about it too.

🔞 car sex. And no he’s not fucking initial N. It’s with you in the car. He gets off if he thinks about you and him doing it in the car, don’t ask him why he doesn’t know it either. Don’t stain his seats tho, but he’ll definitely do it in the backseat or while he’s driving.

🔞 receiver. HEAVY receiver. Make him feel good. He’ll be at your mercy if you do it. Do anything to him. Gag him while you ride him. Choke him while you kiss him. Make him cry out your name out of pleasure

🔞 praise kink. Whisper those sweet seductive words in his ear and he’ll crumble right under your nose. He’ll beg and cry if you ask him too. Make him feel as if you’re the only one who can do this to him.

🔞 suck him while he’s driving. The mix of arousal and self control with trying to keep his eyes on the road will definitely make him feel hot.

🔞 He cums a lot. And fast. You’d only have to touch him and you’d already see the wet spot in his pants along with a tent. Make him stroke himself trough his pants because you refuse to touch him anymore and you’ll see him absolutely flabbergasted

🔞 he might have a thing for if you slap his face. He likes it if you handle him roughly because he’s been a brat. Put a gag in his mouth and you’ll get extra points. Man handle him please

🔞 loves Handjobs, he thinks it’s super hot or he’s lowkey embarrassed. Don’t ask him why he’ll get defensive, but he 100% likes the feeling of your hands stroking his sensitive skin

Thank yall for reading 🥶🙏

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass. 

New York City is expensive. 

College is expensive. 

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city. 

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces. 

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks. 

First it was the dishes. 

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks. 

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major. 

It had nothing on the men. 

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm. 

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men. 

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate). 

But really, you’re not in the position to complain. 

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least. 

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.” 

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.” 

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way. 

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.” 

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless. 

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.  

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat. 

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring. 

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here. 

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.” 

Tara’s tense against you. 

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?” 

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh. 

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.” 

And then it’s your turn to stare. 

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones. 

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes. 

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated. 

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour. 

The conversation is over. 

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly,  it’s the only thing you can think about. 

-

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later. 

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn. 

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered. 

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food. 

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard. 

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?” 

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.  

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.” 

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm. 

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.” 

You furrow your brow. 

“You think?” 

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?” 

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish. 

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.” 

Liv shoots him a look. 

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.” 

Chad’s eyes widen. 

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!” 

Liv gives you a look. 

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.” 

-

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. 

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits. 

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself. 

You’re starting to see it. 

Quinn liked her conquests. 

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara? 

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend. 

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play. 

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests. 

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn. 

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago. 

But it’s different now. 

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.” 

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear. 

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. 

“Babe?” Tara prompts. 

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true. 

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder. 

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms. 

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point. 

“And you hate gore movies.” 

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie. 

Tara furrows her brow. 

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?” 

You bite your lip. 

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her. 

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist. 

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?” 

Tara frowns. 

“No weirder than usual.” 

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.” 

Tara shoots you a look. 

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.” 

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.” 

It placates you for only a moment. 

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being. 

It’s just… 

Quinn is pretty. So pretty. 

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else? 

And then the dread is back. 

“It’s just… Liv said-“ 

Tara groans. 

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.” 

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed. 

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips. 

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.” 

You do know that. 

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom. 

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to. 

-

It doesn’t work. 

Because of course, why would it work? 

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend. 

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described. 

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.” 

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way. 

You fold your arms, unhappily. 

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.  

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.” 

Tara draws back, clearing her throat. 

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.” 

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe. 

You know better. 

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse. 

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent. 

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.” 

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.  

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara. 

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully. 

“Sure.” 

-

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started. 

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored. 

You’d been wrong. 

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more. 

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end. 

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst. 

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her. 

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her. 

And those sometimes become all you can think about. 

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship. 

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do. 

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead. 

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches. 

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket. 

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos. 

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy. 

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?” 

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl. 

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.” 

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers. 

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant. 

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you. 

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat. 

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?” 

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy. 

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder. 

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening. 

-

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning. 

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend. 

It has to stop. 

The solution? 

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice. 

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol. 

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best. 

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it. 

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly. 

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth. 

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues. 

It makes you stew. 

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment. 

But you resist. 

Let her think she’s winning. 

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet. 

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory. 

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction. 

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?” 

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand. 

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes. 

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep. 

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.” 

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed. 

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it. 

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates. 

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner. 

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused. 

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop. 

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.” 

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.” 

Quinn stares a moment. 

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.” 

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat. 

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.” 

Tara peers over at you, a little confused. 

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it. 

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders. 

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers. 

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.” 

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering. 

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips. 

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy. 

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.” 

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing. 

Bless her. 

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend. 

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.” 

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation. 

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes. 

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.” 

Tara nods. 

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?” 

Tara tilts her head. 

“No.” 

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left. 

Made sure you’d seen it. 

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep. 

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly. 

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.” 

Tara frowns. 

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed. 

Then, she pouts. 

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.” 

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns. 

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.” 

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate. 

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.” 

Tara bites her lip. 

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?” 

-

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later. 

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight. 

You frown as Tara enters the room. 

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.” 

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist. 

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.” 

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?” 

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.” 

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss. 

“I love you. Only you.” 

-

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn. 

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together. 

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim. 

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her. 

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.” 

You sigh, unhappily. 

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.” 

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you. 

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.” 

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.” 

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile. 

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.” 

And so you do. 

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure. 

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door. 

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?” 

You smile and kiss her. 

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.” 

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.” 

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly. 

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?” 

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.” 

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter. 

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.” 

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife. 

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again. 

Quinn looks over, catching your eye. 

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her. 

And then, she smiles. 

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.” 

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait. 

And you fall for it. 

Hook, line and sinker. 

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red. 

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?” 

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking. 

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition. 

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair. 

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you. 

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-” 

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?” 

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!” 

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances. 

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her. 

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might. 

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?” 

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor. 

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.” 

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.” 

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.” 

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.” 

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage. 

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Quinn blinks at her. 

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.” 

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it. 

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again. 

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.” 

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing,  her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her. 

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens. 

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.” 

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her. 

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?” 

Quinn nods, solemnly. 

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.” 

-

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-” 

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo. 

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.” 

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features. 

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.” 

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing. 

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.” 

“Baby-” Tara starts. 

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.” 

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss. 

She’s trying to settle you down. 

It works.  

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.” 

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“  

Tara shushes you with another kiss. 

Then she draws back, her voice soft. 

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.” 

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.” 

Sam might mind. 

But it’s really the least of your worries. 

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest. 

Tara squeezes your shoulders. 

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.” 

She eyes you, warily. 

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.” 

You frown. 

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders. 

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.” 

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone. 

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight. 

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout. 

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up. 

You just want her gone. 

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump. 

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open. 

And then you hear it. 

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities. 

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring. 

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick. 

You know that grunt. 

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion. 

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it. 

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door. 

But what you see isn’t what you expect. 

You blink. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you. 

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?” 

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out. 

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real. 

But it’s very real. 

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does. 

The sound of your voice is her escape. 

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble. 

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?” 

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.” 

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks. 

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Quinn’s breathing heavily. 

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two. 

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.” 

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next. 

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.” 

Quinn doesn’t move. 

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.” 

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you. 

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse. 

She shoots you an angry glare. 

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.” 

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut. 

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her. 

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.” 

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.” 

She’s quiet a moment. 

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.” 

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers. 

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.” 

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…” 

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering. 

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.” 

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest. 

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.” 

“Oh.” You say with a frown. 

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.” 

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.” 

Tara hums. She leans in close against you. 

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.” 

Tara wrinkles her nose. 

You laugh. 

Lean down to kiss her, deep. 

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think. 

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.

[withleeknow]

rue de rivoli.

pairing: hyunjin x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, semi edited lol, a little sappy and very self indulgent and inspired by a very specific instance in that one hyunjin vlog in japan 🤷‍♀️ word count: 0.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

hyunjin might be the worst - and you mean it, the worst - travel partner.

it’s all because of that ridiculously expensive camera of his and the little hobby that he’s taken up on.

“hey,” he calls out softly, trailing a few steps behind you as he raises the camera up to his face again. “hold it right there.”

you huff out a breath in mild annoyance, blowing some hair away from your face as the air escapes from your lips.

“seriously? you’ve taken a gazillion pictures already. this is the third time you’ve made me stop in the past thirty minutes.”

“but the lighting is just perfect.”

“we’re only here for a few days! i can’t see all the places i wanna see if you keep making me stop every two seconds!”

it was cute at first, how he kept asking you to stop in the middle of the street to snap a photo of you. it made you blush every time he did, because he would take another brief moment to admire the final product on his camera’s display screen and tell you that even though the photo turned out great, it could never truly capture how beautiful you are through his eyes. then he’d press a kiss to your cheek or a swift peck to your lips before taking your hand and tugging you along, en route to the tourist attractions that you’ve yet to come across.

to be fair, it’s still cute, and despite your feeble irritation, you still let hyunjin take his photos every time he asks. mostly because he would start sporting a gigantic pout on his face, coupled with the way his eyes widen like a puppy begging for a treat.

“please? you look so pretty right now. pleaseee?”

you acquiesce - of course you do - because who can say no to a cute whiny hyunjin?

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, and a bright grin immediately spreads on his lips because he knows that he’s getting what he wants, the smile so brilliant that it brings out his whisker dimples and turns his eyes into adorable crescent moons.

he patters over to you on light footsteps once the shot has been snapped, proudly showing you his handy work even though you secretly think it looks the same as any other photo of you that he’s taken - sometimes it’s your side profile with your hair covering half of your face because you’re too awkward to look directly at the camera, sometimes it’s you in random poses because you’re never sure what to do with your hands while getting your picture taken.

“did you even take any photos of the scenery?”

hyunjin shrugs, pretty indifferent to your question. “yeah, a few.”

“a few? give me that, let me see... you’ve taken two hundred and sixty four photos so far and only a few are of freaking paris?!”

another shrug, then cue one of the corniest things he’s ever said to you in your entire life. “you’re prettier than paris.”

sure, it’s a massively cliché thing to say, and a teeny bit cringeworthy to hear if this were a sappy romance movie. but coming from him, you know the sentiment is entirely genuine because hyunjin is nothing if not one of the sincerest people you know.

it makes you short-circuit as you stare up at him. the sun behind him softens by a fraction as it starts to make its descent, and the slowly fading sunlight looks as though it’s found a home as his personal halo. to have someone as beautiful as him tell you that you’re prettier than the city of love itself is quite honestly a little surreal, no matter how long you’ve been together.

“that was the cheesiest shit ever,” you comment, pretending to gag but knowing perfectly well that he can see the rosy flush on your cheeks. you mutter something else - for good measure - along the lines of never going on a trip with him again.

hyunjin laughs that endearing signature laugh of his, then he twists the cap back on the camera lens and once again lets the device dangle from the strap around his neck. he pulls you toward him with ease and kisses you deeply with a smile on his lips, one that’s warmer than the parisian sun could ever hope to be.

no, hyunjin isn’t a great travel partner. yes, mostly because he takes up all of your time trying to take pictures of you instead of letting you freely wander to the spots that you’d spent a lot of time bookmarking on google maps beforehand. he might be the worst person you’ve gone on a trip with because when you’re travelling, you like to be productive with your time and be able to do everything you set out to do in the limited number of days you have.

but even then, maybe it’s not that terrible having to miss watching the sunset in front of the eiffel tower because more exquisite than all of the most renowned artworks displayed in the louvre and more enchanting than any view you can spot from montmarte is your hyunjin that you adore, who’s kissing you in the middle of a street which name you can’t even pronounce.

any irritation you had from before slowly melts away. you don’t even care (that much) that you’re in the city of love.

any city is love when you’re with him.

(even when he messes up your travel plans sometimes.)

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki (italicized = can’t tag)

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.03.2024]

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝓈

I wrote this while waiting for my fn queue, it took literally over an hour and I fell asleep, im so excited for the new season but omfg im so bored w/o it 😞 im getting Fortnite schizophrenia

thinkin bout rafe w a reader!gf, one smut joke that’s it

Masterlist

You sat behind him on his motorcycle as he sped up, your arms wrapped around him. He stopped, parking in a stop downtown and pulling his helmet off, shaking his head and fixing his hair. You took yours off, holding it.

He had a small smile as he looked at you already walking down, catching up with you. You were giddy all week when he told you he would take you to the Barnes and Nobles- even though it was far away.

“Slow down, slow down.” He said with a chuckle when he noticed you were walking fast down the sidewalk. You pouted and slowed down.

“Not my fault you walk so slow.”

He rolled his eyes at your antics, a small smile on his face. You gently pushed his chest as he feigned offense.

“How dare you?” He gasped dramatically.

“How dare you?” You mocked. You both laughed and soon you were met with the sign of the Barnes and Nobles, you practically running in, dragging Rafe.

Your helmet under your arms got hard to carry, he took it from you, both his hands full now.

“Thank you.” You told him quickly, giving him a kiss on the cheek and grabbing a basket. You scoured the sections for books, reading the backs, your face interested. But, Rafe noticed you were hesitating to buy some.

He took one from your hands making you smile, amused as he flipped through the pages.

“Baby, this might as well be pure smut.”

“It’s not all smut.” You argued, taking the book from his hands with a roll of your eyes.

“You seriously reading about this when we can do it?” He said, tone teasing.

“You’re gross.” You hit his chest, putting the book back.

And sometimes, you put back one and put in another. Soon, you said you were done but the basket wasn’t any where near full, and that wasn’t okay in his eyes.

“Why’d you put down the others?” He asked curiously.

“It’s expensive,” you shrugged. “I can’t waste all my money, I still have shit to pay off.”

“I’m paying for it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

“I’ll pay for it. This is a date, isn’t it? I should be the one paying.”

“But, Rafe-“ he always paid for you, despite your protests.

“Don’t worry about it. Buy anything you fuckin’ want, yeah? That’s what I’m here for.”

“Ugh, will you ever let me pay for something?”

“Nope.” He said with a smirk, you smiled back and went back over to the books you were originally looking at.

“Why don’t you get the uh… what’s it called?” He asked, picking up a hardcover.

“A hardcover costs more. I don’t wanna drain your pockets.”

“Have you seen my bank account? I am off perfectly fine. A little what, couple hundred bucks? Is not gonna drain my pockets.” He spoke, putting the hardcover in the basket for you before you could protest.

You rolled your eyes and began walking to the register when you were done, putting the books on as you greeted the cashier with a small smile.

“Find everything okay?”

You nodded, your eyes going to the screen as the amount went up.

“Rafe, that’s a lot-“ you mumbled, he shrugged.

“It’s fine, baby.” He said with a laugh, you looked up at him now and back down.

“Your total is… 246 dollars.” The cashier spoke.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, are you-“

He swiped his card, and you had a small smile on your face.

“You didn’t have to.” You told him.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I wish my hobby was this cheap.” He said with a laugh, giving you back your helmet so he could carry all the bags for you, flexing his biceps as he did so.

[o-sachi]

Wishlist! - Headcanons for WinBre Week!

ᯓ what are the furin boys putting on their wishlist this year? ᯓ characters; sakura haruka, suo hayato, sugishita kyotaro, mitsuki kiryu, kaji ren, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma, togame jo ᯓ tags; just plain platonic headcanons

[🐟]: for day 5 - holidays prompt! @windbreakerweek

Sakura Haruka

"Ehhh? No... I don't want anything..."

He's only saying that because he'd feel like too much of a burden knowing someone might go out of their way to get him a present.

But he's like the easiest person to give a gift to because he will appreciate anything you give him. Hell, the fact that you even thought to get him anything is a gift in and of itself.

Although, he'd prefer something that isn't super expensive.

Wishlist: a new blanket, coupons for omurice, another pair of shoes (pls get our boy a new pair of shoes)

Suo Hayato

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful of you."

Not really choosy when it comes to gifts either. He's probably hella rich and has everything that he wants already, so gifts are like a kind gesture to him if anything.

Although, he prefers gifts with meaning over ones that are practical.

It's because he can buy the practical stuff, but he can't put in meaning into things that he buys for himself.

Wishlist: rare tea leaves, lucky trinket, calligraphy brush (a hobby he picked up recently)

Sugishita Kyotaro

"For me? Why."

Doesn't really think about gifts, both in the sense of giving and receiving it.

But if you give him one, he'll be over the moon. Doesn't matter what it is really. He's similar to Sakura in this regard.

However, his issue with gifts is that he doesn't know how to react when he's given one. Is a thank you enough? Should he get them a gift too? He's so overwhelmed. Poor guy...

Wishlist: a small plant for his room, a plain shirt, Ume's approval (he's been told you can't put things like this on a wishlist, but he got mad)

Mitsuki Kiryu

"Yippee! You're the best. Thank you so much."

He likes to joke about stuff that he likes to receive. Also jokes about not needing gifts because his fangirls already give him more than enough.

He judges gifts based on aesthetic appeal rather than its practical use. He doesn't care if its useless as long as it'll look good on him or in his room.

I just know this dude has the best reactions when given any gift. Even if he has experienced it soooo many times, he'll make you feel as if he's so thankful for it each time.

Wishlist: gems for the game he's playing, a cat charm, a hamburger phone case (so he can alternate between that and the hotdog phone case)

Kaji Ren

"Wha? What's the occasion? Well, thanks. I guess..."

Super adamant about not wanting to receive any gifts. He says he's happy enough to have loyal friends by his side. Honestly, he's just scared to get emotional if the gift ends up being too good.

Gifts from close friends hold more value to him regardless of what the gift is.

It's pretty easy to predict the things that he would like...

Wishlist: a box of lollipops, a new hoodie, a year's worth of Spotify subscriptions (me too actually sob)

Umemiya Hajime

"Whaddaya know? I also have a little something for you here!"

It actually puts a bit of pressure on you to find Ume the perfect gift because he is THE GIFT GIVER. It's like he always knows what everyone would love.

A really simple guy. Even quality time is considered a gift in his eyes.

Ume prefers gifts that aren't the usual kinds of things you'd buy from the store, so stuff like handmade gifts, home cooked meals, and letters are his favorite things to receive.

Wishlist: a new trowel for gardening, a shirt that says "Tomato Dad", a dinner party with the entire Furin student body (awww)

Hiragi Toma

"Thanks. I'll make sure to use this."

He's like an old man, so gifts that are practical are is preference. His eyes go wide when the thing is multi-purpose and a steal for its price.

He's also the type of person to preserve gift bags to use for another time. Although, he has definitely gifted back to a person using a bag given to him by that same person before...

A big believer of the saying, "It's the thought that counts."

Wishlist: stomach medicine... lots of it, hair gel, perfume/cologne (I JUST KNOW HE SMELLS GOOD)

Togame Jo

"Aww, this for me? You didn't have to."

Nonchalant as fuck when receiving gifts, but trust me, he is sobbing inside. He's so happy someone thought of him.

Also prefers practical gifts, but it hardly matters. As long as you got him something, he'll be grateful for it.

He won't admit it but he enjoys the moment of unwrapping the gift. Even better if it's wrapped neatly and with a bow on top. Kame's not sure why, but he just loves that part.

Wishlist: food foood fooooood, a new pair of sandals, fancy shogi set (to show off to the old men he plays with lol)

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[ellouchi]

Curly dating headcannons (sfw/gn)

Disclaimer: a little bit of angst (no post crash, that's for another time), mentions of Jimmy (for some people out there)

Side notes: Curly the man you are.... Genuinely would date him, like appearance aside he's so interesting and he's like a mature labrador that I wanna pat and teach tricks. Right, that aside, next hcs are either nsfw or something else entirely, my mood in unpredictable. As always let me know if there are any types of mistakes!

— I think it would take a looong time for you to get together romantically, Curly just lets things develop on their own, he rarely acts on his deeper, more personal feelings. He's not exactly in tune with himself (like most men). However, when Curly realises he has been developing feelings for you, romantic ones, it's literally hard not to notice you. You were pinning for this man for so long when all of the sudden, one day he comes with a big expensive bouquet of flowers inviting you on a date.

— Curly's confidence extends to his PDA, he's super smooth. As per other people's hcs, it's not too much but enough to establish for people that you two are dating. Mainly it's giving you a peck on your cheek or head, gliding his hand over your back and waist. This man is not particularly starved for touch, but gosh he feels blessed every time you play with his hair. Leans into your touch no matter what, a smile tugging on his lips involuntarily.

— as your relationship progresses, so does the usage of pet names. Dove, dear, angel, and love is a go-to for Curly. Gets shivers in a good way when you call him your captain, or if you're married, your husband (I have intense urge to write more, but that goes to marriage hcs).

— Curly carries that cowboy vibe (his favourite genres of music are country and old school rock). He definitely hums and sings some corny ass love songs under his breath when he approaches you or even thinks about you. Please sing along, and if you're shy, he will encourage you (I hc that "Let's Ride into the Sunset Together" by Jerry and Don Burnham is his favourite song you can't change my mind).

— Curly, if you got married before his work at Pony Express, commutes back home with the thoughts akin to "I can't wait to spend the evening with my beautiful spouse", yes he will be this corny. If you're the one coming late, Curly would complete the hardest or your least favourite chores and cook supper for you. It's not a big deal to him, plus you're coming home to relax and recharge. It also gives you more time to spend together; simply lazing on the couch sounds fantastic too.

— Curly is a morning person, gets up at 4 a.m. to exercise and get ready for the day. Getting up with you is wonderful, but he loves to wake up first. There is just something so homey with the way you're tucked into the comforter, snuggling to his side. Curly will spend a good minute just admiring you. This is one the favourite things in your relationship that he treasures deeply.

— now onto the food: Curly cooks the best breakfasts, period. Anything he does with eggs is to die for. But don't worry if you don't like them — Curly will come up with another dish for you specifically! His other specialty are sandwiches: he practised so much he could be considered a master of them. Guess who makes you work lunches with cute tupperware? All your colleagues are jelly as hell.

— if you cook, Curly eats EVERYTHING, like the plates are empty, no crumbs nor sauce. Even if it's food that he's not used to, he will chew on it thoroughly and give you a thumbs up. Fortunately, Curly has very "domestic" taste, nothing sophisticated required for him to shower you will praise. You can make him mac and cheese and he would genuinely be happy. Takes up doing the dishes after your meals (god bless).

— Curly generally loves having you in his life. It's not necessary for you to spend every waking hour by his side or share the same enthusiasm for his hobbies. He loves you with his whole heart and he's grateful for getting to have you as his partner. Sharing a cozy living space, going out with you by his side, having long conversations or little sweet talks at night before falling asleep. This is what Curly lives for.

— following up the previous hc: Curly loves you no matter what (it's both concerning and reassuring). He thinks both negative and positive qualities make up your being. Unlike Jimmy, Curly would feed into your vices because he wouldn't consider this to be so impactful for you in the long run. Unconditional love has it's downs. With that said, if you actively try to better yourself — Curly is so proud of you. He really is. When you show him your growth or when he notices it on his own, he can feel his heart melt. His eyes may even become wet a little, Curly can get sentimental at times.

— give this man a chance to show you off and he will take it. Curly never has hard time saying what exactly he loves in you, from your personality to your appearance. If you attend any social gathering, he either holds your arm or has his arm held by yours. You have to fight the urge to look at him constantly because Curly can't just take his eyes off of you. Makes his friends either gush or groan at the sight.

— Curly loves you and means well, truly. You may have known each other for years, in marriage or not, but he would still have troubles opening up to you. It's because you're so close to each other, he cares so such for you he doesn't want to burden you with his inner conflicts. Curly should be happy, he's grateful for the things he has, and yet even with you he feels lost. The best thing you could do is show him that you care about him. If you support Curly and prove him that his feelings matter no less than yours, he would listen and try to be more forward with you. Therapy is also always a good option, and it's far easier to convince Curly to pick it up.

[leclerity]

you kiss him first

Charles Leclerc x Former Childhood Friend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you talk about the reasons why you haven't seen each other in ten years... and there may have been some miscommunications all this time. a/n: another angsty one, with another happy ending, as always - thank you for all the support on the fics so far!

The Monaco air is crisp as you step out of the door, leaving the laughter of your parents and family friends behind. You note you forgot how warm Monaco can be, even in the evenings, and Charles Leclerc laughs, reminding you that you’ve been away for too long.

Certainly long enough for childhood friends to become distant acquaintances, at best.

“It’s weird to think we used to play around these streets,” you say. “We were so stupid. It was dangerous!”

“Well, we were kids.” Charles shrugs. “We thought we knew best.”

He leads you away from his parents’—now mother’s—house and after a moment, you recognise the route as your old path up the hills, to the best vantage points the city could offer. You climb with the expertise of someone whose feet have wandered up the trails a million times before, even if it’s been a decade since the last time.

“I always thought we might get hit by a car someday, but I didn’t care,” you say. “And look at you now, driving cars for a living.”

“Means I get hit by more often than an average person. So, you were right.”

“Right. Just like always.”

“Yeah. You were always right, you know.”

Something about the way he says it, looking at the hill beneath his feet instead of you, sends shivers down your spine.

The further outside the city you go, the quieter it gets. Dozens of memories fly past your eyes, all of the same hike, with the same person by your side, only a child, a teenager.

“What was I right about?”

Charles doesn’t look at you, nor does he answer. You keep hiking in silence and you find yourself getting antsy, fidgeting with a loose string hanging off your t-shirt.

When you get to the top, it’s peaceful. It always has been. You see the whole city from here, all of the lights shining brighter as the sun sets in the distance, and you can’t help but wonder – what went wrong?

So you ask.

He laughs, but it’s nervous. When you look at him, his white shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and the khaki shorts look too expensive against the dirty ground. He’s still got the same pretty face, the dimples in his smile, but he’s a far cry from the boy you grew up with.

“I don’t see the point in talking about it now,” he says.

“If not now, when? It’s been ten years already.”

“Never,” he says. “If I can choose.”

You turn to face him, the sights of Monaco be damned. “Why? We were good, Charles. I was supporting you with your karting, you were supporting me with all the hobbies I ever did…”

“We were good,” he agrees, but it’s almost sad. As if there’s no way back. As if whatever happened, it’s irreversible.

“No, you don’t get to just up and decide you’re never going to speak to your best friend again. You just… You don’t get to do that!”

“You’re right,” he says, nodding. “You’re right.”

“So what’s the issue?! I mean, I thought you were going to be by my side at the altar someday!”

Charles shakes his head, chuckling again, but you can see the watery reflection in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you, and for a moment you wonder what was it that you said that was enough to make him cry, and…

“That was the issue,” Charles says, softly. “I’d be by your side.”

You feel yourself frown. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“No. It’s not.” He looks at you and you finally see the tears, the redness of his cheeks, and the emotion he’d been restraining for who knows how long. “I didn’t want to be by your side.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N—”

“No. It’s okay. I get it.”

You move a little further from him, pretending your heart hadn’t just been stabbed, but he scoots right back next to you.

“Y/N, let me finish.” When you don’t say anything, he adds, “I wanted to stand opposite of you. That was the issue.”

“Opposite of—oh.”

The past rewrites itself in your head, all those little moments that ever confused you suddenly being crystal clear. You see all the hints you missed or saw and ignored – the refusals to talk about your crushes, the distancing that began when you got into your first relationship, even though it lasted not even two weeks…

And the absence of contact when your family moved away.

“Charles,” you say. “What are you—I don’t understand—”

“You didn’t see me the way I saw you,” he says, “and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

And—in a moment of unprecedented courage—you look him straight in the eyes. “Who says I didn’t?”

A look flashes over your face that tells you he’s experiencing a rewriting of the same kind you experienced moments ago. The moments when you held his hand for a little too long as a kid, when you cheered him on the track even when you were supposed to be on a date, when you listened to him vent about his brothers. You know these moments – and you hope that now, he can see them for what they were, too.

You put a hand on his cheek. He leans into it immediately, as if coming home.

“You know,” you whisper, “I don’t think there’s a moment of my life I didn’t love you. Even the past ten years… All I could do was miss you.”

“Me, too,” he says. “I hated myself for staying away, but I had to. I thought I had to.”

“If you just asked…”

He laughs, again, and it’s nervous all the same – but his hand is on your knee and he’s leaning in, and the air between you is charged. “Asked what? ‘Hey, Y/N, how’s your day? Also, do you happen to be in love with me, too?’ Is that what I should’ve asked?”

“Yes. And I would’ve said yes.”

He sighs; his eyes drop to your lips. “You’re telling me I wasted ten years because I was afraid?”

“Both of us were.”

“So, now…”

You become acutely aware of the distance between the two of you – all it would take is to lean in, ever so slightly, and the friendship barrier would be crossed. As if it hadn’t been crossed all those years ago, before you even knew what love or friendship were.

You smile. “Now you kiss me.”

“Tempting,” he says. “There’s one problem, though.”

“There is?”

Charles’s smile mirrors yours, wide and delighted. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” you say, and you kiss him first.

[cheezbites]

Dating Ghost -- Part 4

✎: HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!! Ending 2024 off with a part 4 to my Ghost headcanons series!🤭

♡Summary: Headcanons of dating Ghost.

︵‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Bf!Ghost lets you drag him along to parties. You received a last-minute invitation to this big New Year's party, and he already knew there's no way you'll miss it. He doesn't protest. In fact, he doesn't even mind. He found himself mildly enjoying the company of other people, picking up on bits and pieces of meaningful conversations such as their resolutions, hopes or big plans for the year ahead of them.

His attention, however, is almost entirely fixed on you. Whether you’re catching up with someone you know or heading off to grab another drink, his sharp eyes follow your every move, ensuring you’re always within his sight.

As the clock nears striking midnight, the big countdown begins and the room almost instantaneously buzzes with excitement and anticipation. Ghost gently pulls you into his arms, tuning out the raucous cheers and clinking glasses around you. He kisses you softly, his masked demeanor melting away in the intimacy of the moment.

“Guess you’re stuck with me for another year, eh? Don’t know how you do it.”

Bf!Ghost loves the idea of cozying up at home with you. The world outside is cheery and loud: groups of friends heading to or returning from clubs, the occasional firework bursting in the sky, and the distant hum of cars as people race to make it home before midnight. But his world—being you—is cozily inside with him. A bottle of champagne, your favorite cheesy sitcom playing on the TV, and a soft blanket draped over the both of you, making the moment so effortlessly perfect.

Bf!Ghost keeps in contact with you, no matter where he is, this man will find a way. His texts range from sarcastic remarks to just random snapshots of his day. He has this knack for making you laugh with his dry humour and cheeky quips.

"Guess what I had to deal with today? Idiots."

*(Attached: A photo of some destroyed expensive looking military equipment) "Just a bunch of idiots."

Or, out of nowhere, a photo of a random animal he saw, captioned: “This you?”

Bf!Ghost isn’t the type to sit down and plan New Year’s resolutions. It’s just not his thing—too much fuss over things he figures he’ll do anyway. But with you, it’s become a tradition. He always kept his short and practical, things like, “Stick to the training routine,” or “Get the truck serviced.” Straightforward. No fluff. But every single time, you'd make sure to add an impossibly unachievable one regarding Simon, like “Convince Simon to wear a ridiculous party hat.”

But little does he know, you’ve got your ways. It's not even February, but he’s sitting on the couch with a sparkly, oversized party hat perched on his head. He grumbles something about how you’re impossible, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that he can’t hide.

His biggest resolution this year is different, though. It’s more personal: “Learn to take a proper holiday with you.” He’s honest about it—years have gone by without him truly relaxing, and he knows he owes it to himself—and to you—to find that peace.

He secretly loves when you set a goal for the both of you, like planning a getaway or trying a new hobby together. Even though he pretends it’s all “your idea,” he’s all in from the start. It’s the kind of commitment he doesn’t say out loud, but you can see it in the way he clears his schedule, shows up on time, and puts his whole heart into whatever you’re doing. With Simon, even the smallest resolutions become something meaningful when it’s with you.

Bf!Ghost stares. A lot. But not in a creepy way, but in a way that makes you feel like you're the only person in the room, and that's if you notice--most of the time you don't. When he zeroes in on you, it's like he's in a sort of daze and there's a softness that momentarily lingers in the creases of his eyes.

"Y'know, you always do that thing..." You mention whilst glancing over at him. He was leaning back on the couch, casually sipping on his drink with his eyes fixed on you.

"What thing?"

You tilt your head and a smile plays at your lips. "Stare."

He just shrugs like it's no big deal. But you can tell by the shift in his gaze that it means more. “I like looking at you,” he says, voice low and quiet, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Bf!Ghost keeps a picture of you in his wallet, hidden among the military IDs and mission cards. It's just a photo, after all—nothing to make a fuss over. But the way his fingers linger on it when he's pulling out his cards or the small smile that tugs at his lips when he sees it tells a different story.

Bf!Ghost holds onto little souvenirs from your outings and dates. The ticket from the first movie you saw together? It's in a safe place in his drawer. A napkin with a doodle you drew as you were chattering away with your friends on the phone, laughing about silly gossip? That's tucked into his wallet, next to your picture.

Bf!Ghost surprises you with these small, simple decorations when the New Year rolls around, like some dazzling fairy lights twinkling in the corner or some sparklers at night. When you asked him about him, he just shrugs with a nonchalant look and says, "Felt like it."

But deep down, you know it's because he loves seeing you get excited or surprised whenever he does something special, even if it's out of the usual for him. He's secretly a sucker for seeing you get all thrilled over new beginnings,

Bf!Ghost discovers you putting together a messy craft project, showcasing all your favourite memories from 2024. You've been in and out of rooms, running around to fetch a variety of creative supplies and being careful to not prick your foot with scissors or knock over an unscrewed glitter jar on your way back.

"What do we have here?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe and observing as you neatly trimmed a photograph to stick onto your collage.

"A time capsule, right? But make it *aesthetic*." You answer, still focusing on the right place to glue this photo of him (he didn't even realise you took it) onto your collage.

Stepping into the room, he watches you rearrange and readjust bits of paper as you searched for the perfect combination. He decided to make himself useful, sitting across from you and quietly helping with cutting things out for you or suggesting ideas. Every little thing he does makes the process a little smoother. He's there, helping you build something together—just like he’s always there for the bigger moments.

Bf!Ghost finally lets you paint his nails after what seemed like hours of pleading and begging--but just one, which was perfect for what you were trying to do, anyway.

You chose his thumb so you can have more efficient and visually representative thumb wars, of course. I don't know how this man does it, but every time he wins. His true competitive nature comes out in a good old fashioned thumb war. But it's also another excuse to hold your hand and hear you giggling as you thrash about and try cheating your way through getting his thumb cornered.

You carefully painted it black and added a tiny ghost doodle in white, refining all the details in black with a tiny and precise brush.

"Fits, don't touch think?" You teased, holding it up for him to inspect.

But you didn't want Ghost Jr. to feel left out, so you got a matching one. (But yours is pink, of course). Whenever you held his hand, you always dubbed them as 'best buddies' and pressed your thumbs together, making hand holding all the more special to you guys.

Masterlist

🌸Part One

🌸Part Two

🌸Part Three

✎: This one felt super short to me, but that only means there's more works to comeeesej!!😝 SHARE YOUR RESOLUTIONS IN THE COMMENTS I'D LOVE TO HEAR🩷 Mine's to stop perfectionism and procrastinating.. nasty habit of mine😭 hence the super long writing hiatus--but she's BACKK💕🫶 I missed you guys so much!!1!1!

[vroomvroomcircuit]

From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you

(A/N): This has been written with the inspiration @foreveralbon brought me. I love you and your incredibly mind, honey

Summary: Lando's girlfriend is a seamstress working at a tailor shop. She is repairing his clothes, he is cutting holes into his sleeves. Together, they release the cutest merch

Pairing: Lando x fem!reader

Warnings: None, this is so fluffy, I'm crying myself to sleep. I need a Lando like this

Wordcount: 2.9k

🏎Masterlist🏎 __________________________

(Y/N) thinks she is about to go crazy. Manic even.

Over and over again she patches up holes in her boyfriend’s long sleeves.

And over and over again new holes appear. It’s like this is her Sysiphus task. Just repairing Lando’s clothes day in and day out.

Don’t get her wrong. (Y/N) does this for three different reasons.

The first being that she is a seamstress, working in a tailor shop. This craft is how she pays her rent and food.

The second reason is that she really can’t have her boyfriend go out looking like he just got picked up at the side of the road begging for a warm meal and shelter.

The third reason may be less obvious than the previous ones. Acts of services is (Y/N)’s love language. She is not particularly good at letting people around her know of the appreciation she holds for them. Verbally at least. It’s not the way she grew up. She learned that actions speak louder than words can. So patching up her boyfriend’s clothes gives the young woman the opportunity to prove how much she loves him. She just hopes that Lando understands the meaning as it is intended.

Little does (Y/N) know, Lando really appreciates her patching up holes. What he isn’t a big fan of is when she repairs those that are intentional. The ones in his long sleeves are put there on purpose.

While (Y/N) is meticulously sewing, Lando goes snip snip in the other room with a pair of scissors. He just loves having sleeve paws, but it’s annoying when his thumbs are jailed in.

“Lando, have you seen my scis- What are you doing there?!” He turns around, looking at his girlfriend like a child being caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Freeing my thumbs?” He tries to explain in a small voice, scared that she is about to go off on him for ruining his clothes.

(Y/N) sits down next to him on the ground. “If you have told me you want thumb holes, I could have done it for you. I would hem them for you, so they won’t fry. If you want me to, can I take some of your shirts to the shop tomorrow and work on them during slow times?” The way Lando’s eyes light up makes her wish for a camera to keep the memory of it.

(Y/N) not only fixes the holes in his sleeves.

“Love, would you put another patch on my jeans?” Lando saunters into her little crafting room. When she moved into his apartment in Monaco, he insisted on transforming a guest room into her own sewing cave. It was only fair. He got his gaming room as his hobby room, so his girlfriend needs her own territory too.

The room is filled with different sewing machines, one wall is decorated with threads of all kinds, colors and thicknesses. Several shelves are overflowing with different fabrics of any kind imaginable. Every shade, pattern or reflection that any crafter would kill for. Lando really spoils her and happily let’s (Y/N) run loose in a craft store, draining his credit card to her heart's fullest content.

(Y/N) would feel bad, if it wasn’t for the big difference in salaries they sport. Also, it is Lando’s way of treating his girl. Instead of flowers or a bag he buys her a new Bernina B 325, which is not something she is exactly complaining about. They share most of their expenses, but still, working at a tailor shop will never make you a millionaire.

Currently working on her own project of making a quilt out of scrap fabric for Max’s upcoming birthday, (Y/N) barely looks up to her boyfriend. “Yes, of course, sunshine. Just put it over there and I’ll have a look at it in a bit. Do you have any preference for the new patch? I ordered city themed ones a few days back and they arrived today.”

Without having to be pointed into the direction, the Brit already goes through the drawer that is solely dedicated to the patches (Y/N) accumulated during the last few years.

If he is being honest, that kind of work of hers is his favorite. Lando is just amazed by the different shapes, colors and themes her collection entails and how her delicate efforts bring a new individual mark to his favorite pair of jeans.

“I think I want to go with this one,” he mumbles after sifting through the drawer. Lando places a small rose next to the currently used sewing machine for her to not have to search for it in the midst of the chaos that is going on on the several desks in this hobby room.

He actually loves spending some down time here, especially when his girlfriend is working on her own projects. Lando hides under one of the desks, sometimes scrabbling away on pieces of paper for the next helmet sketch, sometimes answering some important emails on his laptop and other times he lies down between different piles of fabric and takes a nap. Having (Y/N) hack away with the machine, occasionally cursing under her breath when she pinches herself sewing something by hand or the music playing on a low volume brings Lando great comfort.

Spending quality time this way is secretly Lando’s happy place that he visits mentally during stressful patches when he is away.

A couple days later the door to the tailor shop (Y/N) works at rings the bell, alerting her of a new customer. “I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls from an adjoining room, cleaning up her work space from the trims that have been left by the jeans she just shortened.

“How can I hel- LANDO!” The young woman exclaims, rounding the register to jump into his arms. “I thought you’ll return from Australia tomorrow”, she murmurs into his shirt. The thumbs are, of course, able to escape through the holes she recently cut and hemmed like promised.

He laughs into her hair. “I wanted to surprise you and pick you up from work like the good boyfriend I am. I also got you something from ‘Straya.” Out of thin air (his back pocket actually) Lando procures a small stack of Australia themed patches.

“Oh, honey, they are perfect. Thank you so so much!” She kisses him all over the face until finally putting her lips onto his. “Just let me close the shop and we can go home and enjoy our evening.” Lando presses another kiss onto her lips, “Hurry up, I can’t wait holding you in my arms again.”

While (Y/N) packs her things up, Lando goes through a stack of different fabrics. One in particular catches his eye.

“Hey love, where did you get this heart patterned fabric? What do you have planned with that?” (Y/N) pops her head in to see what her boyfriend is pointing to. “Oh, that one. The owner was negotiating a deal with a new supplier and wanted to check out the quality. We wanted to see if this one is durable enough to make shirts out of it.”

An idea is forming in Lando’s app, that he quickly puts down in the notes app on his phone.

She emerges from the side room with her back and something else. “Would you try this on for me?” (Y/N) asks innocently, handing Lando a jean jacket. It is a bit oversized on him, just the way he likes.

“It’s pretty nice. What do you need me to model this fo- This is one of the patches I just gave you!” Lando admires the kangaroo that looks like it’s taking a jump on the sleeve. “I thought this would be a fun little project for the season. After every race I’ll put a patch from that country on the jacket. I can also stitch some additions onto it as well for when you get a podium or win or are voted as driver of the day and so on. Just, I thought this could be something cute.” (Y/N)’s face heats up the more she talks about her idea.

Lando pulls her into his arms, squishing his girlfriend as close as possible to his body. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate the work and thought you put and are putting into this.”

Like the proud trophy boyfriend he is, Lando loves modeling whatever his girlfriend sewed, patched up or created and pimped up in some other way while entering the paddock. Just as he predicted mentally, the fans are going crazy about his jacket online as he wears it on Wednesday for media day.

“I see, (Y/N) loved the patches you bought her. At least dragging me through every craft store in Melbourne that I know of has paid off for you”, Oscar remarks dryly as he watches Lando hanging up the jacket in the hospitality.

“Yeah mate, she sewed it on immediately. It’s her newest project, putting on a patch for every country we race in during this season after the race. She also wants to add a bunch of things for special occasions during the races.” Lando explains fondly the thought process behind the jacket.

As he is leaving the paddock later that day and signing several cards, caps and other merch, some fans ask him where he got the jacket from. “Oh, that old thing? I’ll gatekeep this one. Good luck on finding the store.” He answers a young woman while putting a bracelet she handed him on his wrist.

He hasn’t gone public with his girlfriend yet. The people know that he is in a relationship with Lando having started an already several months long soft launch, that includes their socked feet during movie nights and her backside in beautiful sunset scenes. So nobody knows what she does for work and the two of them want to keep the little bubble of secrecy they have so far going for a bit longer. Out of the public eyes without the pressure of fans and media.

It felt like a scavenger hunt going online and seeing fans and other media outlets trying to find Lando’s particular jean jacket. For the two of them it becomes their evening entertainment, reading up how everyone and their mother are losing their minds from not being able to detect where it is from.

“The chat is asking about that dumb cloth again. Just tell them where you got it.” Max groans, even his own chat during the stream isn’t safe from the assault. Lando, who chills on his bed while waiting for a message from his girlfriend about her being done with work, just smiles. “Come one, please lift the secret. I can’t even roll my eyes often enough times, that is how annoyed I am by this whole thing.”

The Brit loves the suspension around the subject, but gets up and saunters over to the monitors. “Ok Chat, I will only say it once and never again. Get your pens and papers out and write it down. So, this jean jacket with the patches is a designer piece. You can’t get it anywhere else, it was custom made and no, the designer doesn’t want to go into mass production with that one. But I am cooking something up. Just be patient, I feel like I will be able to make a deal for you. I just need to work my magic, but that takes time. My name is not Tinkerbell.” 

His little sass tirade is broken up by the ping of his phone, making Lando scramble for it to see his love’s text. “Chat, do you see how down bad that man is for his girlfriend?” Max ridicules Lando, giving him payback for all the teasing against himself.

While the chat is going insane, with the certainty that this moment has been clipped and will be used for edits by the fans, Lando just smiles at his phone, shooting a quick reply of picking her up. After that he packs his stuff and throws a quick goodbye to Max and the stream, onto the way to the tailor shop.

There she stands, his love in all her glory in front of the closed store. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the building for me? It’s dangerous to be out alone, especially for such a beautiful person like you!” Lando scolds her lightly when he reaches her, taking her bag from her shoulder, throwing it onto his own back.

But (Y/N) presses a kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him. “It’s all ok. When I saw the headlights of your car, I stepped out and closed the shop behind me. I knew that my Tinkerbell was close by in case I needed saving.”

Lando wants to reciprocate the kiss, but stops mid air when he processes her words. “You watched the stream?” That shocks him a bit, because (Y/N) usually keeps out of this part of his life. It’s not really her world, streaming and gaming. So that’s one of the hobbies they don’t share, being the healthy couple, without a horrible codependency, they are.

“No, a friend sent me that clip a few minutes earlier”, she snickers, “Were you talking about me? About wanting to work a deal out?” Lando throws his arm around her shoulders, leading the young woman into the direction of where he parked his car. “I did. Originally I planned on woohing you by a nice candle light dinner and after that I wanted to ask you if you were open with making a few designs for LN4. The fans are going crazy over the pants and jacket. You also have the eye for the details that I love on clothes. It would make me so happy to hold something in my hands that we both worked on, to know that people in the whole world will wear it.”

(Y/N) looks up at her boyfriend, watching his side profile while he is rambling about the meaning of a collab between the two of them. How he can’t stop smiling over the excitement of the prospect of their merch line together, the way his eyes light up, his free hand gesturing while explaining a few ideas he has saved on his phone. She can’t help but press another kiss onto his cheek, effectively quieting him down.

“I will make that collab with you happen. I already have a few things drawn out in a notebook, I was just too scared to show you the sketches, not wanting to intrude or impose myself onto your business.”

Instead of saying anything, he just picks her up and throws them in a circle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He repeats over and over, both laughing about his childish antics.

A couple of months, several trial and errors as well as creative differences later, they stand in a studio, overseeing the photoshooting with the new collection.

“Wouldn’t this be the perfect way to launch our relationship to the public? With your face visible in the pictures?” Lando muses out loud while looking over a rack with hoodies. (Y/N) throws him a shocked look. “I mean, we can take a couple of pictures together with a few articles and also take a few of you individually too. The world needs to know the mastermind of these designs. You need to take credit for all the hard work you have done.” He explains, taking her hand and gesturing to the set up with the other.

She lets the idea rummage a bit in her head. It would be the perfect way to go public, especially since this is the first time her designs are commercially sold. (Y/N) breaks out into a smile, nodding rapidly. Lando can’t help but also smile, getting infected by his girlfriend’s happiness.

Weeks after that the new merch drop gets released to social media. The press and fans are eating up the couple's pictures, finally having a face to the woman, who is able to fluster Lando through text messages alone.

The clothes itself also get the best feedback.

A variety of the jean jacket and patched pants are now available for fans to buy, being able to kind of replicate Lando’s paddock look, coupled with a heart patterned hoodie from the collection.

But nothing gets close to the original with the many hand sewn details on Lando’s jacket, even when fans try to imitate them. A nice side effect is seeing other people picking up the craft of hand sewing and stitching.

Many people swoon over the long sleeves with cut out thumb holes. They especially love the heart shape of the holes.

It’s a perfect detail to the name of the new line.

‘From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you’ is printed in one way or another on every piece.

Because no matter the distance between Lando and (Y/N), they can feel the love for each other over any distance.

[umbrella-show]

Platonic Yan ROTTMNT

「 ✦ 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐘𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐌𝐍𝐓 𝐱 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✦ 」

Hello everyone! You can call me N and welcome to my first oneshot! I come from wattpad so forgive me for some possibly cringey writing 😅 I'm fairly new to Tumblr, so I don't know how a lot of things work but I'm doing this for a side hobby. Sorry if any of the turtles seem out of character. I tried. Anyways, enjoy! This was heavily inspired by @autisticdonni with their Of the Ocean 2 part series.

Words : 2,079 Also the reader's turtle species is a spotted turtle!

THIS IS IN NO WAY APPROVING OF A ABUSIVE OR TOXIC RELATIONSHIP.

Warning(s) : Nonconsensual touching (nonsexual), kidnaping, Delusion, Drugging (sedatives).

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You walked across the street, your hood over your head hiding your dark scaly skin. Mutants roaming around the streets in New York wasn't very uncommon. They were always disguised to blend in with humans. After being stung by a strange looking mosquito, you had turned into a mutant. A turtle mutant. It was a shock to you, and you immediately grabbed whatever of your valuables you could find and ran away from home. You didn’t want your family and friends seeing you like this, so it had to be done. 

To hide your true appearance, you wore a large jacket of your favorite color, a backpack for all the things you could cram in there from your home and large baggy pants. You wore shoes as well, and while you admit it was uncomfortable and strange for you to have only three toes and fingers instead of five, you could manage. A dark pair of sunglasses and a face mask covered your face even more. You probably looked like some creep or criminal, but it was the best you could do. Cloaking brooches were hard to find and too expensive for you.

Once you reached the other side of the crosswalk, you picked up the pace a little, narrowly dodging the people in your way. You were hurrying to get out of the crowded streets and maybe go somewhere more secluded, like the park or a rooftop. Anywhere with not a lot of people. The crowd soon became a bit too congested for your liking. The feeling of shoulder’s brushing against yours made you shiver under your hoodie.

You hurriedly managed to make your way to a nearby alleyway. Walking deeper into the dark alley, you lowered your hood from your head and sighed. Oh, how you wished you were human again and could normally walk up and down the street without having to hide in large baggy clothing and things to cover your face. You could hang out with your friends and not get weird looks from passersby. 

Straying further into the alley and away from the crowded street you stopped at the end of the alleyway and laid your back against the wall. You slightly winced at the feeling of pressure being applied to the injury on your dark spotted shell. 

A while ago, you had gotten into a fight with another mutant, and they had landed a nasty hit to your shell. You had managed to flee, but not without some bruises. The pain became bearable after some time, but you still take extra precaution to be more weary of any aggressive looking mutants. 

A loud thud from above you caught your attention, and you whipped your head in that direction. You saw a large shadow above you, looking down at you from the rooftop of the building you were leaning on. The figure was definitely not human, and if it was it would have been the largest human you had ever seen. The figure was very tall and wide, and the moon highlighted the tip of a spiky shell on their back. You noticed the top half of their face was covered by what you assumed to be a bandana from the ends of fabric swaying in the wind behind them. 

You sucked in a breath, and stood there frozen for a moment before you broke from your shock and sprinted towards the exit of the alley. You didn’t make it far, and skidded to a stop when the figure landed right in front of you, making you almost lose your balance from the way the ground rumbled and shook from their landing. 

You defensively stood in front of the figure that you could now see clearly. Whoever was in front of you was bigger than you thought. The mutant easily towered over you, and could probably snap you in half if he wanted to. You were surprised when you realized it was a mutant turtle, like you. You still remained extremely cautious however, not knowing what his intentions were. 

The cold breeze tickled your skin as you shivered. You contemplated just running out of the alley as fast as you could, maybe you could lose him in the crowded streets of New York. You flinched when one of his three fingered hands slightly reached over and hovered above your arm. You looked at it, then glanced up at his face. 

His face had softened, his eyebrows had scrunched up visibly under his mask and one of his large fingers grazed your arm gently. His eyes were scanning you, his gaze lingering on the bruises scattered across your body, a frown spread across his face. “You’re hurt..” You stiffened at his surprisingly soft voice. His thumb traced over one of your bruises on your forearm, making you wince. “What happened..?” 

You took a step back from him, your breathing wavering. Even though this mutant seemed nice, you still felt cautious. Everything about his appearance screamed danger to you. His sheer size intimidated you greatly enough to not buy his caring act. You tried to bolt out of the alley, but was stopped by another mutant landing ahead of you from above. 

Two others came down as well, and you were surrounded. With a shaky breath, you kept your defensive stance. Your eyes wandered around your surroundings, trying to spot anything you could use as a weapon to defend yourself with. You let out a yelp when you saw one of the mutants lunge for you. Too slow to dodge it, you were tackled from the back. In panic, you yelped and struggled to break free from whoever was holding you. They were laying across your back, applying a mass amount of weight on your injured shell. 

You were wincing and yelling in pain, thrashing around. In panic, you hid in your shell, peering out from the neck hole to see what was going on outside. You were then suddenly picked up, a disappointed ‘aww’ from the turtle that was holding you. The mutant then hovered their head over the neck hole of your shell, peering inside with one eye closed. 

You could see he looked like a box turtle, and wore an orange bandanna with short bandana tails tied in a bunny ear knot. His black eyes peeked into the inside of your shell, interest swimming in his eyes. A disappointed frown was stretched across his lips, his bottom lip jutting out. You could only stare up at him from within your shell with narrowed eyes, glaring at him. That didn’t seem to work though when he kept his hold on you, and didn’t look like he was going to put you down anytime soon.

“Aww! Come on, you can come out! Pretty pleeeeeeeaaase?”

“Mikey, they’re obviously not going to come out after you literally tackled them to the ground.”

Another voice commented, making the orange turtle, who you assumed was Mikey, pout. You continued hiding, hearing Mikey and the other mutant bicker. You had contemplated trying to escape, but with your shell being hugged so tightly by the orange turtle, you doubted you would be able to get away. 

“Enough with the arguing. You’re scarin’ them outta their shell.”

You were yanked out of the box turtle’s arms as he squawked in protest. A new face peered into the neck hole of your shell. He wore a red bandanna with longer bandanna tails and had spines along his shoulders. He was the one you had noticed on the rooftop first. 

“Hey there little buddy. You can come out. Raph ain’t that scary.”

You stayed put, not amused by the turtle’s childish and babying voice on you, like you were some stray cat he was beckoning to come out of its hiding place. From what he had said, you assumed his name was Raph. You could see the turtle’s face scrunch up in disappointment when he realized you weren’t coming out.

“Raph, they’re obviously too afraid to come out. Let’s just take them back to the lair while they’re not escaping.”

“I disagree. I can tell their blood pressure and heart rate have significantly quickened in the past couple minutes. The smartest thing to do would be to calm them down before introducing them to an entirely different environment-”

“Well, we don’t have all day now do we, Donnie?”

You could hear the two other mutants bicker with each other. Their arguments, however, made you tense. They wanted to take you? To their lair? Why? You didn’t do anything to them. Hell you hadn’t even met them before today. Their argument faded into background noise as you were stuck in your thoughts. 

A sudden squeeze to your injured carapace on Raph’s plastron made you immediately pop out from the shelter of your shell and yelp in surprise. Raph had hugged you quite harshly while the other turtles were arguing. You heard him try to apologize, but was cut off when you began thrashing in his strong grip, kicking against his plastron as you tried to free yourself.

Yells you couldn’t make out came from the other mutants when you almost slipped free, but before you could run, Raph had caught you and held up back against his bulky plastron with his arms under your armpits.

“Donnie! The sedatives!”

The what!? You paused, only for a moment later to be struggling against Raph’s grip even harder when the mutant in purple came closer to you with some sort of machine over his shell. A claw arm came from the machine, holding a needle that was dangerously close to your arm. You babbled out pleas as tears filled your eyes, blurring your vision.

The purple turtle, who you learned was Donnie, frowned at your panic, continuing to move towards you and took the needle from the claw hand. The metal claw seized your wrist, holding your arm in place as Donnie glanced at your terrified state before looking down at your arm as he held the needle to your dark spotted skin. He slowly brought the needle to your arm, the sharp tip piercing through a soft piece of skin and injecting you with its contents. Your squirming increased when he pulled the needle out of you and released your arm as he stepped back. He then tapped on a blue screen on his wrist.

“Since I amplified the effects of the sedatives, it shouldn’t take long until they fall unconscious. We should be okay to take them to the lair now.”

As if on cue, your struggling ceased as you shakily panted, feeling lightheaded. Your vision blurred as you began to double of everything in your sight. The other turtles seemed to notice your discomfort, the blue one smirking in your direction as he came up to you and patted your head. You only gave him a dazed and uncomfortable stare back.

“Don’t worry lil’ sib, your super cool big bro’s gonna bring you home.”

“Leo, just open the portal. ”

The turtle in blue, now known as Leo, huffed at Donnie’s remark, giving you one more head pat before he turned around and brought out a sword with a blue hilt that rested on his back. He swung the sword over his shoulder, pointing it in front of him as he swirled the sword in a small circle. The sword flashed and crackled blue electric looking sparks and shocks before a blue mist came from the tip of the sword, expanding and turning into a circular glowing blue portal.

You would have been shocked if you weren’t feeling so dizzy at the moment. You could recognize that the sword Leo had was a mystic weapon.You could tell it was powerful. It was practically oozing mystic energy, leaving a tense and electric tension in the air. How did he even get such a powerful mystic weapon? You couldn’t dwell on it any longer as your mind began to blank and your eyelids felt heavy.

Still being held in Raph’s arms in a more comfortable position, all you could do was helpless les fight to stay awake as your captors took you through the blue portal, blinding your eyes for a moment before you fell unconscious. The last thing you saw was the glowing full moon that beamed a spotlight on your figure and the stars in the inky black sky, glowing like fireflies that beckoned you to stop fighting and fall into a deep sleep.

[malereadermaniac]

Mob Boss Mondo Owada x Mob Husband Male Reader Headcannons

Being Mondo's mob husband, sitting in on bikergang meetings and getting dicked down by the cornhead CW: Musk/scent kinks, armpit & crotch smelling, spit, manhandling Top!Mondo x Bottom!Reader word count: 1.7k Sfw & Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

How you met

You were both in the same class at Hope's Peak

Mondo was immediately interested in you, he liked how you took no-ones bullshit- not even his!

You were, for lack of a better word, snappy

Long story short, the two of you started hanging out, and Mondo just kept falling for you more and more - by the time you two left Hopes Peak, you had made it official

And while you do indulge in your talent as a hobby, sometimes making money off of it, you really have no need to!

Mondo's biker gang developed into a whole as mob - not exactly the super scary kind, but shady stuff does happen

You weren't the biggest fan of it to begin with, but Mondo hasn't changed as a person - and he promised to stop if you deem it goes too far

In private

Mondo fell for you because you're one of the few people who isn't scared of him at all, you aren't afraid to voice your opinions and argue with the mob boss

And that translates into your private relationship

While everyone in Mondo's gang and most people in your city would agree that the Pompadour man is a dominant, scary, powerful man, you would beg to differ

If his public image isn't on the line, Mondo is wrapped around your pinky finger - if he even raises his voice at you, you argue back with a sass that makes Mondo apologise in seconds

"Who do you think you are? Shouting at me like that, do you want to rephrase that, Owada?" You ask with your arms crossed, not breaking eye contact

"I'm sorry, baby... I got ahead of myself" The man's ego and dignity being dragged through the dirt

Outside of the occasional arguments (usually caused by stress from being one of the countries' most prominent mob boss) your relationship is gold-standard

Mondo is fucking smitten for you, and with the large sums of money he has, he can afford to show you his adoration

Dates are an almost nightly thing, going out for expensive meals which are arrived to by Mondo's limousine

The mob boss spares no expense to have you looking your best and for you to be feeling as comfortable as can be

You do let him know that he's doing too much and that your love for him isn't something he has to buy - but man does this lavish life fit you like a glove!

Also. on every occasion, no matter how small, Mondo buys you a gift - he's quite thoughtful surprisingly, so it's either something meaningful or something to facilitate one way or another in the bedroom

As any all-powerful gang leader, Mondo has his jealousy issues - however, they manifest in simple possessiveness

So his strong hands are always on you, either holding your hand or your waist or his arm dangling around your shoulder

Spooning at night is a must! Mondo starts the night off as the big spoon he insists he is, however by the morning you end up with your arms around his muscular waist and your one leg over his thick thighs

In public

Your dynamic is a little more different with other people around - Mondo is a well-known mob boss, so of course he cares about keeping up his tough-guy facade!

But while Mondo does care about his image, he can't hide how captivated he is by you

The gang leader likes to show you off a lot, especially to his lackeys

So Mondo will have you sit in on meetings with you on his lap, one buff arm around your waist holding your back to his chest and his other hand tight on your thigh

But the sappy man makes sure to whisper "are you okay"'s in your ear every five minutes - making sure that his darling mob husband isn't uncomfortable

The image you two portray is very much, mob boss and mob husband - and while Mondo doesn't like belittling you to a piece of candy on his arm, it strangely results in respects from others

The muscular man has asked you if you mind before, but you've assured him many times that you don't care that much

There's also a sexual nature to your public relationship - one which doesn't really show up on your private life

You put on an act as if you were Mondo's sex toy - always wearing slightly showing or tight clothing and behaving in a sultry manner

You're always touching Mondo when there's others around, and he mirrors the behaviour - your dynamic is very evident and feels awkward to comment on or disrupt but so interesting to look at

Mondo can tell that you make his members and even his competing gang's jealous - and simply for that, he keeps your image the way it is

Spice

In the bedroom, Mondo and you are the complete opposite to your more sfw selves

Your relationship in the bedroom is more similar to the act you put on in public - Mondo fucks you within an inch in your life, indulging himself fully while you become a 'second' thought

In reality, all Mondo is thinking about is making you feel good - but acting and behaving as if he isn't is what turns you the fuck on!

Mondo knows you're a slut for his body, so he makes sure to show it off to you as much as he casually can

The muscular man likes to tower over you, flexing his arms and abs and chest like some sort of gym bro while your eyes ogle his body up, making your dick twitch like mad

The two of you aren't very pedantic about what potion you two fuck in or where, but you prefer to see each other easily, and Mondo likes to be as close to you as possible

Most of the time, you're riding him on his lap, Mondo sitting up with his chest against yours - one hand helping you ride him on your waist and his other veiny hand gripping your face tightly to force you to look down into his sex-crazed eyes

If you two are fucking in his office, Doggy style on his desk, Mondo fucking loves having one hand pushing your head against the desk while his other hand is wrapped around your body - bringing his own, huge body against yours to feel closer to you while he fucks your brains out

Mondo takes control of your body, making you look wherever he wants you to look and making your body contort into whichever shape he desires - this guy man handles you at any given moment

He's rough with you in a gentler way. The man never actually hurts you, but the pressure he puts on your body just hits the spot for you - his veiny, huge, rough hands dragging over your body and holding you in place while he drills his cock into you

Mondo's also really fucking verbal with you, degrading you slightly (in as mean a way as the beguiled man can), and letting you know how fucking good you make him feel with his loud moans

His dick feels so good inside your ass, fucking massive in size but not as big as to puncture something. His veins are your favourite to play with, with either your tongue or fingers, when you blow him off

And when Mondo face fucks you, his pubes roughly stuffing your nose as Mondo's manly scent consumes you, it actually feels like heaven - for the both of you!

Special mentions: Kinks

Armpits - fuck does Mondo love to flex his arm behind his head, showing off his built arm and hairy, sweaty pit. The muscular man uses his free hand to push your head into his armpit, making you smell his strong, manly musk until you get drunk off of it

Crotch sniffing - Similarly to his armpits, Mondo fucking loves to watch you go crazy on his forest of a crotch; his balls and base of his cock absolutely covered in dirty blonde, thick pubes. The man stinks so good, his scent like that of an "Alpha male", just sex in an aroma. Mondo will make you smell his dick n balls through his musky underwear and then some after he reveals his manly cock - getting you drunk on his dick and smell gives the man a massive ego boost

Exhibitionism - Public shit really gets the both of you going. While your sexual dynamic is mainly an act in public, Mondo and you can't deny that getting frisky in front of his gang gets you both going. When Mondo sits you on his lap, you like to 'make yourself comfortable' by grinding your ass against your husband's dick - which then develops into him 'punishing you' by either having you pathetically grind against his knee or his foot (depending on which one is more easily visible to his gang) or Mondo even whips his cock out and has you service him in front of everyone

Spit - it's the hottest thing ever when mid-sex, your brain hella fuzzy from Mondo's girthy cock pounding your prostate to high heaven, Mondo grabs your face, squishing your mouth open, and he spits on your face and into your mouth - making you swallow a thick glob of his saliva as he laughs maniacally as he fucks your hole hard. He calls it "literally swapping spit", especially when you do it do him - but you do it in a more romantic, nymphomaniac typa way. You like to sit in Mondo's lap, making out with him like your life depends on it - your hands on both sides of Mondo's face holding onto him lovingly, you break the kiss and sit up, looking down into Mondo's eyes half-lidded as your tongue dangles out of your mouth and a long string of your thick spit trails down and onto Mondo's tongue. FUCK IT GETS HIM SO HARD!!