#also my eye is twitching nonstop

[desolationlovers]

me waiting on my antidepressants for like a week a nd finally calling to ask about them bc they wont refill. hey can i have my Dont Kill Yourself pills please. oops sorry pharmacy still fresh out of pills🤗kill yourself. okay ❤️ yayy ❤️

[strawberriesoup]

don’t come crying₊˚⊹♡

♡ genre: minho x reader, oneshot, friends to lovers, angst, fluff

♡ warnings: swearing, kissing, heartbreak

♡ wc: 2.7k

♡ a/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAYY here’s a quick, bite-sized minho oneshot that i somehow wrote yesterday and today. it’s not proofread in any way so good luck reading (JK I HOPE YOU ENJOYY)

if you make it all the way through, please leave some feedback! i always love to hear other people’s thoughts!! your feedback is what keeps me writing stories like these <33

♡ taglist: @jisunggy @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools @chancloud8 @hannieslittlerockstar @vixensss @skzpvol @gxtwllsn @yinzgarden @kayleefriedchicken @nightmarenyxx @dwesion

if you would like to be added to my series taglist or my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

―୨♡୧―

Objectively speaking, Minho is an asshole.

Said asshole is currently sprawled over your couch, eating your cookies, and he has the nerve to berate you about who you chose to go out with on Valentine's Day? He’s insufferable.

Your eye twitches as Minho scornfully regards the picture of your date— which you had only sent him after he had nagged you nonstop for ten minutes— pointing out that his hair color didn’t quite suit him, and also that he should probably shave more often.

Having had quite enough, you snatch the phone from his grasp, earning yourself a loud “Hey!” of protest. Shutting the screen off, you toss it on the ground and cross your arms, glaring at his form on the couch next to you. If you were a jerk like Minho, you definitely would have smacked him by now. But, since you’re not, you press your mouth into a straight line and blink widely at him.

“You done?” You ask thinly.

Minho stretches before responding, whole body quivering with the effort.

“No, but I suppose I should shut up now if I want any more of those cookies,” He examines a nail with apparent disintrest.

“Good choice,” It takes everything in you to not wipe that goddamn expression off his face. He just looks so… ugh. You can’t even look at him right now. The sight of his face incites a type of rage in you that should probably be studied. “Why do you care so much anyways, huh? It’s not like your date is any better,” then you gasp, tapping the side of your head in mock remembrance, “Oh, wait, that’s right! You don’t have a date, do you?”

The roll of his eyes and curl of his lip give you your answer before he can even speak.

“That’s what I thought. Now you can shut up and eat the fucking cookie,” You snap, pushing yourself up from the couch. Minho’s voice trails after you as you storm off to your room.

“Just don’t come crying to me when he stands you up tomorrow!”

Your door slams shut before you have to hear another word from his mouth.

This is dumb. He’s a perfectly fine guy! Minho’s just being overdramatic for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Have you been wrong about guys before? Yes. Has Minho been right the majority of the time? Also yes. But that doesn’t mean he’s right this time.

You sigh dreamily just thinking about it. Just last week, he had asked you to be his valentine with a huge bouquet of crimson roses and box of chocolates. Call it childish, but you have been absolutely giddy ever since. The world seems three shades brighter, and you walk with an extra skip in your step. That is, until a certain someone had to go and open his big, opinionated, mouth.

His words circle in your mind, but you shake your head quickly to clear it. Minho’s probably just in a foul mood because you have a date and he doesn’t. Why he’s taking it out on you though is beyond you, but you try not to take it to heart too much.

You have a good feeling about this one. You just know it will go well tomorrow, and you can’t wait to rub your success in Minho’s smug face.

જ⁀➴

You have a bad feeling about this.

Your date-to-be is sitting across from you, leaning back and listening to you talk. You two had decided to touch base at a cafe before tomorrow, just to go over plans. As you are reviewing the meetup time, you swear you can sense a hint of annoyance in the curve of his lip. His knee taps up and down, as if impatient. No, that can’t be right. Minho’s words had just gotten to you, that’s all. Nevertheless, your stomach sinks a bit as your date finishes off his coffee and stands up.

“Yup, sounds good.” He tosses his empty cup in the trash, “I gotta go, but i’ll see you tomorrow,”

Without so much as a wave goodbye, you watch him head out. The door announces his departure with a pleaseant ring.

There you sit, half-finished latte in hand. He didn’t even offer to pay.

You hate to admit it, but Minho might be right. You don’t understand. What did you do wrong? Did you come off as too eager? Minho does always tell you that you’re too clingy, you guess. But it just doesn’t make sense, you had seen your date just the other day and he was all smiles, holding your hand as you walked and wrapping his jacket around your shoulders when you shivered. You must have done something wrong for him to be acting like this, there’s no other explanation. Unless he’s just had a particularly bad day.

You nod as you push out your chair and stand. That might just be it. Still, Minho’s words of warning run rampant in your mind, despite your efforts to push them to the back of your mind.

Everything will be fine, Minho’s just a hater.

જ⁀➴

Just because he’s not here yet doesn’t mean he’s not showing up.

This morning you had put on the cute little dress you had planned with a hum on your lips, a good nights sleep having managed to put some pep back into your step. When you had finished touching up your hair, you were not at all surprised to find Minho spread across your couch, watching a show and eating a bowl of cereal like he owned the place. You’re quite used to it at this point, he doesn’t know how to stay at his own house for the life of him. No words were exchanged, Minho merely glancing in your direction in greeting before returning his attention to the show.

Good. You like him better when that big mouth of his is shut.

You tap a heel nervously, the inside of your cheeks sore and raw from how much you had been chewing on them. How long has it been now? Half an hour? It might even be more, it feels like you have been standing beside this bus stop for ages. Countlesss couples had passed by, fingers intertwined as they tuck their partners hair behind their ear, or stifling giggles as whispered jokes are exchanged.

He’s not coming, is he?

Of course he’s not, you were a fool for thinking he would. Your unanswered text stares up at you, the read receipt sitting gut-droppingly below it. Hot tears prick at your eyes as you hunch your shoulders into yourself. What do you even do now? Just… go home?

Your feet move on their own, carrying you in the direction you came. When you started running, you’re not sure, but the chilly breeze stings your flushed face as you push your way through the busy sidewalk.

You pull out your phone as you run, tapping on Minho’s contact. Your blurred vision makes it nearly impossible to type a sentence. A simple, ‘you were right’ is all it reads.

Sent.

જ⁀➴

Minho had graciously not blessed you with his presence when you stumble through your front door, cheeks stained with tears and nose running. You don’t even know if he read the message, but you’re sure once he does, he’s going to be a smug little shit about it, as per usual.

It’s all you can do to not hurl yourself onto your bed and just sleep for the next three days. Maybe you’ll wake up and this will all be some bad dream.

Your disheveled appearance in the mirror stares back at you dully, assuring you that this is not a dream, and you did indeed just get stood up on Valentine's Day.

The cold of the mirror chills your hand as you lean forward on it, breaking eye contact with yourself. Your mind still can’t comprehend it. Why? Why are you always second best? Every single time you open your stitched up heart up to someone, they rip out the seams and leave you with the pieces. Frustrated tears sear behind your eyes, but you purse your lips and shove them back down. There’s no point in crying.

A single knock. Your front door opens before you can take a breath to answer it. Only one person would be so bold as to enter your place without so much as waiting for a response. The one and only, Lee fucking Minho.

You can hear him shuffling around the front door, most likely kicking off his shoes. There is absolutely no way you are going out to greet him, he’s only here to rub it in your face that he was right the whole time. And while yes, that is in fact true, it’s really the last thing you need to be hearing right now. Your fist unintentionally curls in on itself as you hear his footsteps approaching your door.

You cross from your mirror to your bed, flopping down and burying your face in the pillow. Maybe it will block out his voice when he comes in and starts yapping.

A long moment passes. You don’t hear his movements anymore. Then, softly, three knocks sound against the wood of your door.

You decidedly do not answer. He really can’t take a hint, huh?

Instead of opening the door immediately like usual, Minho waits a moment before knocking again. The knocks are just as soft and careful as before. The switch in mannerisms has your eyebrows furrowed. What’s the matter with him?

“What do you want, Minho.” Your voice is muffled, face still stuffed in the pillow.

This time, your door opens. The soft padding of his footsteps cross your room, but you don’t raise your head. You’re not sure what keeps you hidden. Embarrassment? Anger? Both? Nevertheless, you won’t be showing your face anytime soon.

The edge of your bed dips as he sits on the edge of it, not a word uttered. Yet. You tense as he takes a breath in, preparing your heart and mind for whatever he’s going to spew at you.

And yet, no such thing happens. A hand lightly sets itself on your shoulder, making you jump slightly in surprise. As he draws his hand soothingly across your back, your shoulders drop and you let out a shaky sigh.

When you finally gather the courage to look up at him, you find his gaze fixed on his lap. There, he holds a small handful of assorted wildflowers. You look from Minho, to the flowers, then back to him. Since when were his lashes this… pretty?

“It hurts, you know.”

His voice, nearly a whisper, cuts through the silence. He keeps his eyes locked on the flowers as he fiddles with one of the petals.

“Seeing you give some loser a chance,” he continues, “And you get hurt. Every. Time.” He searches your face, that little wrinkle between his eyebrows visible. “When are you going to decide you’ve had enough?”

You’re trapped in those big brown eyes of his, filled with a mixture of concern and genuine confusion. Despite his efforts to be the biggest nuisance in your life, he cares about you, even if he rarely shows it.

At your lack of response, Minho sighs and drops his hand from your shoulder, bringing it to his little bouquet of flowers. His little bouquet that suspiciously resembles the flowers planted outside of your building, along the sidewalk.

You flip over, facing the ceiling. It’s easier than facing him.

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I just… I just want to be loved, y’know? Every single time, I think: ‘this one’s different’,” You let out a rueful laugh, “guess you were right, huh, genius?” You prod him in the side with one finger.

Not even a witty retort falls from Minho’s lips. In favor of an answer, he offers to you the bunch of flowers.

You turn your head, watching as a pink petal flutters from the bouquet and lands gracefully on your sheets. Your eyes never leave his face as you reach out slowly and accept his gift.

A beat of silence falls as you bring the petals to your nose. The quiet is unusual. With Minho, the bickering is practically non-stop, a quick response always on the tip of both of your tongues. But now, only the quiet whistle of his breath fills the room.

“Is this..?” You tilt your head at him as you draw yourself into a seated position.

He blinks a couple times. You wonder if he’s ever asked anyone to be his valentine before.

“It’s- yeah.” He states simply, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Minho’s demeanor is somewhat relaxed, but the way he keeps twisting his ring to the tip of his finger and back gives tell to his nervousness. His lips are pursed a bit at the corners, his little dimples making an appearance.

This is a side of him you rarely see. In fact, he’s never acted this way before. His blunt quips replaced with a type of openness that seems foreign even to himself.

You know what. Fuck it.

Grabbing his chin, you draw close to him. His eyes widen and he freezes in place. You take in his features with a squint. The angle of his brow, the fullness of his lips, that little beauty mark at the end of his nose. Instead of making your stomach twist in annoyance, his face ignites a little flame in your chest. You’ve always known Minho as an attractive man, you’d have to be blind to think otherwise, but you’ve never seen him quite in this light.

This whole time, he’s been trying to protect you. In his own, strange, Minho way.

His throat bobs as he swallows, lips parting. The sight of his bunny teeth peeking from beneath his lip is the final straw. You close the distance, capturing his lips in a swift kiss.

The moment is brief, and you pull away just as quickly as you had leaned in, his chin still grasped between your fingers.

He blinks rapidly for a couple of seconds, a habit of his you’ve picked up.

You break into a smile at his reaction, giddy at finally having the upper hand.

“You know, you could at least— oof!” Halfway through your sentence, you are interrupted by Minho’s grip on your arm as he yanks you towards him.

He catches you as you fall backwards over his lap, his arm supporting your back. You’re at a loss for words, your mouth opening and closing dumbly a couple of times. Minho lets out a huff of laughter and rolls his eyes.

“You’re actually an idiot, hope you realize that,” he observes.

“Just kiss me, you asshole,”

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, you drag him down to you. You can feel him smile against your lips as he tightens his grip around you, one hand drifting through your hair while the other holds you steady.

This. It feels right. More right than any of those other guys had made you feel, despite their fancy gifts and extravagant shows of so-called ‘love’. Maybe the reason none of them had worked out was because deep down, you truly only want one person. And that person is here, holding you between his own two arms, quenching the thirst for him that you didn’t even realize you had until you tried a sip. His lips move in harmony with yours. He’s firm, but not desperate. Gentle, but confident. Your body melts under his every touch, until you can't imagine being anywhere else but here.

He pulls away first, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink that matches the flowers sitting forgotten on the mattress. He quirks an eyebrow wryly at you.

“So much for not coming crying,”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, “Excuse me? I did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

“Did too.”

“You’re such an ass, Lee Minho.”

જ⁀➴

[hitomisuzuya]

softdom Scara getting so much baby fever he breeds you nonstop to the point he's also a whimpering, lovesick, sweaty mess like bro I know he's definitely a top but I swear on my primogems that bastard whimpers when he has too many rounds I just want him to be stupidly in love and whimpering yknow 😔

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. multiple creampie. soft dom!scara. praise. some minor degradation.

happy thanksgiving, everyone! this came kinda just came out 😳 i'd bet all the primos i have saved for citlali that this man whimpers and cums hearing i love you.

earlier this morning, scaramouche happened to overhear one of his subordinates proudly announce that his wife was pregnant. and that flipped a switch in him.

a switch that ultimately left you breathless and drooling, twitching and whimpering in pleasure with scaramouche's cum seeping out of your abused hole. shaking and trembling, he started to pull out of you, letting out a soft whimper seeing his cum seeping from your pussy.

"three...three and you are still so tight," he groaned, resting his weight on you and stealing your lips up in a deep open mouth kiss that stole the very breath from your lungs. "your pussy was made for my cock. fuck, you are perfect," his teeth nipped at your lips. the harder he made you cum, the more fuel it added to the fire.

your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head feeling his cock stretch you apart again. the consistency with which scaramouche bullied his cock into your sweet spot long since brought on spontaneous orgasms.

"i love you. i fucking love you so much, do you know that?" he moaned, panting as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your knee up to your chest. "i'm gonna knock you up. i am going to marry you. just set the fucking date," he reached down to rub your throbbing clit, shivering as your body twitched in bliss.

"scara..scara," you moaned, your mind foggy. pleasure was nearly shattering your body. you reach your hand out to him, which he promptly took. intertwining his fingers with yours, drawing out his next few thrusts for extra stimulation on your sweet spot.

"that's right," he moaned shakily, squeezing your hand. "cling to me. fall apart for me," taking your other hand, he pinned your them down to the bed next to your head. "now, my wife. look at me with those pretty, pretty eyes and tell me how much you want me to cum inside you again," the better he felt fucking into you, the more to call you his wife.

your pussy clenched like a glove around his cock from his wonderfully excessive praise. squeezing his hands, you leaned up a little to steal a quick kiss. "cum inside of me, scara! i want you to so badly!" you plead, "let me give you children with your beautiful eyes and your scowl!"

scaramouche's cock pulsed, he almost couldn't believe how hard he still was after having emptied himself inside of you three times already. he didn't like losing. he was is a man on literal mission. he knock you up and lock you down.

"fuck, you are going to cum again, aren't you, slut?" he moaned, putting both hands above your head so he hold them down easily with one hand. he scrambled to find your clit again, tearing sweet mewls of pleasure from you as he pinched and rubbed your clit.

your body quaked, the pleasure of his cock scrapping and rubbing every sensitive pleasure you have in your pussy nearly made you limp.

your gasp of pleasure from the knot of your orgasm abruptly snapping apart sounded like heaven to him. having been deemed incapable and inadequate at birth, it is intoxicating for scaramouche to know that he, and his cock were capable of making you cum this hard.

"you need to be fucked fuller, you deserve it. i say so," he whimpered, squeezing your hands as his hips drove into yours. "my wife deserves it," he chuckled shakily seeing your watery eyes lit up. "you like how that sounds, don't you," he cooed, rolling his thumb around your clit in a way that made you see stars. "my pretty, pretty wife."

his words almost made you cum again, his relentless thrusts dragging out the pleasure of your orgasm. "inside, inside," you babbled, the deeper intimate connection of his fingers rubbing your knuckles while he fucked you sent you reeling. "you are the only one in the world for me. i love you," your words fell away in sobs of pleasure for a few moments. "i love you so much!"

hearing those sweet three words sent scaramouche's cock throbbing inside of you. his cheeks flushed hearing the whimper he could barely swallow. cum ribboned inside inside of you, mingling with yours in a squelching mess. "i don't know if it's going to be enough," panting, his hips slowed to a stop, but he didn't dare pull out of you.

"you can handle another, right?" he asked, making you look at him with your breathtakingly fucked out expression. he licked his lips, and shivered as you nodded.

[amyzworldds]

Part three: A Tale of Unsaid Love

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

Vernon and Y/N’s lifelong friendship blossoms into something more through quiet moments and a transformative night in the park. Pairing: Vernon x reader Genre: Fluff, slow-burn tension

The room was dark when Vernon stirred, the only light a faint glow sneaking through the curtains from a streetlamp outside. His body ached from the tour, the couch too small for his lanky frame, but he didn’t care. Not when Y/N was still curled up beside him, her head tucked against his chest, one arm slung across him like she’d claimed him in her sleep. He blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust, and looked down at her—really looked.

Her face was soft, relaxed in a way it never was when she was awake and fussing at him. Her breaths were quiet, syncing with his own, and her fingers twitched slightly, clutching his hoodie. His chest tightened, a familiar ache he’d carried for longer than he’d ever admit out loud. It was the same feeling he’d had years ago, back in high school, when he’d watched her rant about their history teacher dropping a surprise essay on a Friday. “It should be illegal,” she’d huffed, pacing the classroom while he just sat there, grinning like an idiot, thinking she was the most alive thing he’d ever seen.

He’d liked her then—everything about her. The way she’d scrunch her nose at cafeteria food and declare it “a crime against humanity.” How she’d shiver five minutes into every winter hangout and steal his jacket without asking. Her endless yapping, her loud laughs, the way she’d drag him into her chaos and make it feel like home. He’d liked her for so long it wasn’t even a question anymore—it was just part of him, like breathing.

And then there was that night. Months ago, mid-tour, when he’d been so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open on a facetime call. He’d let them drift shut, pretending to sleep while she rambled—until her voice had gone soft, barely a whisper, and she’d said it. “I love you.” He’d frozen, heart slamming against his ribs, but he’d kept still, too scared to move, too desperate to hear more. “You don’t even know, do you? How much I’ve loved you this whole time.” She’d kept going, spilling her heart to a “sleeping” him, and he’d lain there, wide awake, every word carving itself into him.

He’d wanted to open his eyes, to sit up and tell her right then—I know. I love you too. I’ve loved you forever. But he didn’t. He’d stayed quiet, letting her think he hadn’t heard, because he wasn’t sure what came next. What if saying it out loud changed everything? What if he messed it up? So he’d waited, and ever since, he’d leaned in harder—calling her nonstop, texting her every dumb thought, clinging to her like she might slip away if he didn’t.

The boys had noticed, of course. Seungkwan had caught him grinning at his phone one too many times and started the teasing train. “Oh, Vernon’s in love, look at him blushing!” DK would chime in, serenading him with fake ballads about “Vernon and Y/N, sittin’ in a tree.” Mingyu once snatched his phone mid-text and read it aloud—“‘Hey, thought of you when I saw this dog, it had your grumpy face.’ Dude, you’re whipped.” He’d just shrugged, used to it by now, but one night, after a few drinks, he’d spilled it to them—his family, the only ones he trusted with it.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he’d said, staring at the ceiling of their dorm. “Like… for real.”

Joshua had nodded, all sage-like. “Yeah, we know. You’re not subtle.”

“Bro, just tell her,” Mingyu had urged, tossing a pillow at him. “She’s not gonna figure it out from your cryptic gift-giving.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?” he’d shot back, even though he knew she did. He’d heard her say it. But doubt was a stubborn thing.

Seungkwan had snorted. “If she doesn’t, I’ll eat my hat. But also, grow a pair and say it. You’re killing us with this slow-motion romance.”

“Half serious, half joke,” Wonwoo had added, smirking. “But for real—don’t wait too long.”

Vernon hadn’t decided then, and he still hadn’t now. But lying here, with her asleep in his arms, he felt it stronger than ever. He couldn’t imagine a life without her—without her voice in his ear, her mess in his space, her everything tangled up in his. He shifted slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and she stirred, mumbling something incoherent before snuggling closer. His heart did a dumb little flip, and he smiled despite himself.

It was past 10 p.m. now, the clock on the wall ticking quietly. He should’ve been dead tired—jet lag, tour fatigue, the whole mess—but he wasn’t. Not with her here. He’d heard her confess again today, whispering it while he’d pretended to sleep on the couch, and it’d taken everything in him not to react. “You’re so stupid… making me love you, and it sucks.” She’d said it like a curse, and he’d wanted to laugh, to pull her close and tell her he was just as cursed. But he’d stayed still, letting her think he was out, because he needed time—time to figure out how to say it back without screwing it all up.

“Vernon?” Her voice broke through his thoughts, sleepy and soft. She’d woken up, blinking up at him, still half-draped across his chest.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, like he might spook her if he spoke too loud. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he said, brushing his thumb absently against her arm. “Past ten.”

She hummed, shifting to sit up, but he tightened his hold just enough to keep her there. “Stay,” he said again, softer this time, fully awake now. “Sleep more if you want. We’ll talk later.”

Her eyes flickered with something—confusion, maybe, or that same panic he’d seen before. “Talk about what?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, playing it off, though his pulse quickened. “Stuff. Later, though. Not now.”

“Why not now?” she pressed, and he could hear it—the edge of nerves she was trying to hide.

“‘Cause I’m tired,” he lied, flashing a small grin. “And you’re comfy. Let me have this for a bit.”

She huffed, a half-laugh, but didn’t push. Instead, she settled back against him, her head resting on his chest again, and he felt her relax, even if her breathing wasn’t quite steady. His own heart was a mess—racing, tripping over itself—but he didn’t care. She was here, and he’d heard her, and maybe “later” didn’t have to be far off. Maybe it was time to stop pretending he didn’t know.

For now, though, he just held her tighter, letting the quiet stretch, and thought about how every little thing she did had built this—his life, his heart, his home. And he wasn’t letting it go.

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

The silence was suffocating. Y/N sat up first, the blanket pooling around her waist as Vernon followed, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was stalling. The room felt too small, too still, with only the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen breaking the quiet. She stared at him, waiting—hoping—for him to say something, anything, about this “talk” he’d dangled over her like a storm cloud. But he just looked back, his face unreadable, lips pressed into a line.

He stood abruptly, muttering something she couldn’t catch, and disappeared into his room. She frowned, pulling her knees to her chest, her mind racing. What’s wrong with him? He’d been clingy all day—texts, calls, hugs, gifts—and now he was a wall. Was he mad? Tired? Did she do something? Every bad possibility clawed at her—maybe he’d heard her confess, maybe he was pulling away, maybe this was the end of them. Her stomach twisted, and she hugged herself tighter, trying to keep the panic at bay.

Vernon came back a minute later, an extra hoodie dangling from his hand. It was one of his—gray, worn-in, the kind he lived in when he wasn’t on stage. He tossed it at her without a word, and she caught it, frowning deeper.

“What’s this for?” she asked, holding it up. “And when are we gonna talk, Vernon? You keep saying ‘later,’ but—”

He shrugged, a half-smile tugging at his mouth, and before she could finish, he grabbed the hoodie from her hands and pulled it over her head in one swift move. She yelped, arms flailing as he tugged it down, the fabric swallowing her frame. It smelled like him—faint laundry soap and that warm, Vernon-ness she couldn’t name—and her heart did that stupid flip again despite her frustration.

“There,” he said, stepping back to admire his work. “You’re always cold. Now you won’t complain.”

She glared at him, yanking the hood off her face. “That’s not an answer. What’s going on? Why are you being so…” She gestured vaguely at him. “Quiet?”

He didn’t respond, just looked at her with that steady, unreadable gaze that made her want to shake him. Then, without warning, he grabbed her hands—both of them, his fingers warm and firm around hers—and pulled her up from the couch. She stumbled, caught off guard, but he didn’t let go, tugging her toward the door.

“Vernon, what—” she started, but he was already slipping on his shoes, still silent, still holding her like she might bolt if he didn’t. He opened the door, and suddenly they were outside, the cool night air hitting her face as he led her down the street.

They ended up at a park a few blocks from his place, the kind that was empty this late—past 11 p.m., the swings still, the benches shadowed under dim streetlights. He kept her hand in his, walking slowly, the crunch of gravel under their feet the only sound between them. She glanced at him—his profile sharp against the faint glow, his jaw set—and felt the tension coil tighter in her chest. His silence was killing her. Hours of this—hours of waiting, wondering, overthinking—and he still wouldn’t talk.

She couldn’t take it anymore. With a sharp tug, she pulled her hand free and stopped dead in her tracks, planting herself in front of him. “Vernon,” she said, voice shaking with everything she’d bottled up. “When are you going to talk? What’s this about? You’ve been dragging me around all night, saying ‘later,’ and I’m—” She exhaled hard, hands balling into fists. “I’m freaking out here. If you’re not gonna say anything, I’m just gonna go home.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stood there looking at her. His eyes were soft but intense, locked on hers, and it made her want to scream. She waited—one beat, two—and when nothing came, she shook her head, turning on her heel. “Fine. I’m leaving.”

She took one step, then two, her chest tight with frustration and something close to hurt. But before she could get far, his voice cut through the quiet, low and steady, stopping her cold.

“I heard you.”

She froze, her back to him, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned, eyes wide. “What?”

Vernon stepped closer, hands shoved in his pockets, but his gaze didn’t waver. “That night. On the call. When you thought I was asleep.” He paused, letting the words hang there, heavy and deliberate. “You said you love me.”

Her stomach dropped, the world tilting under her feet. She opened her mouth to deny it, to laugh it off, but nothing came out. He’d heard her. All this time—every clingy call, every text, every hug—he’d known. Heat flooded her face, panic clawing at her, but he kept talking, his voice softer now.

“I didn’t say anything then ‘cause I didn’t know how,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck again, that nervous tic she knew so well. “But I’ve been thinking about it ever since. About you. About… us.”

She stared at him, heart pounding so loud she could barely hear him over it. “Us?” she echoed, barely a whisper.

He nodded, taking another step until he was close enough that she could see the faint flush on his cheeks, the way his breath hitched slightly. “Yeah. Us. I don’t know how to say it right, but… I don’t want a life without you in it. Not as just my best friend. More than that.”

Her mind blanked, every bad scenario she’d imagined dissolving into nothing. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, just stood there as he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“So,” he said, voice dropping to a near-whisper, “can we talk about that?”

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

Y/N stared at Vernon, her heart a wild drumbeat in her chest, his words echoing in her head—“I don’t want a life without you in it. Not as just my best friend. More than that.” She felt dizzy, like the ground had shifted beneath her, but his eyes were steady, warm, holding her there. Slowly, she nodded, a small, shaky movement, and his face lit up with a smile—soft, boyish, the kind that had always undone her.

He reached for her hand again, his fingers lacing through hers like it was the most natural thing, and tugged her gently forward. “Come on,” he said, voice low and a little nervous. “Let’s walk. And… talk.”

They started down the path again, the park quiet around them, the air cool against her flushed cheeks. For a moment, neither of them spoke, just let the sound of their footsteps fill the space. Then Vernon squeezed her hand, glancing at her sideways. “So… you love me, huh?”

She groaned, ducking her head, but he laughed—light and teasing—and bumped her shoulder with his. “Don’t hide. I heard it. Twice, actually. You’re not slick.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, shoving him lightly, but her lips twitched upward. “You’re the worst. Pretending to sleep like that? That’s evil.”

“I wasn’t pretending at first!” he protested, grinning. “I was half-dead from the tour, but then you started talking, and I couldn’t just… not listen. You caught me off guard, Y/N. Spilling your heart like that? I was dying trying to keep my eyes closed.”

She stopped walking, turning to face him fully, her free hand fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie she was still wearing. “Why didn’t you say anything then? I thought… I thought you didn’t hear. Or didn’t care.”

His smile softened, and he stepped closer, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I cared. I cared so much I didn’t know what to do with it. I’ve liked you forever, Y/N—since, like, high school, when you’d yell at Mr. Kim for friday homework like it was a personal attack. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you without messing us up.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him, his face illuminated faintly by the streetlamp. “You… you liked me back then?”

“Yeah,” he said, simple and sure. “And every day since. The way you complain about everything but still make it funny. How you steal my jackets ‘cause you’re always cold. How you’re always there, even when I’m halfway across the world. I didn’t realize how deep it was ‘til I heard you say it, though. That you love me. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.”

She swallowed hard, her chest tight with something sweet and overwhelming. “Vernon…”

“Wait, I’m not done,” he said, his grin turning shy. “I love you, Y/N. Like… love love you. Not just best friend love. The kind where I want you around all the time, where I see something dumb in a store and think, ‘She’d hate this, I gotta get it.’ The kind where I’d rather be here, with you, than anywhere else.”

Her eyes stung, and she blinked fast, trying to keep it together. “You’re so cheesy,” she managed, voice wobbly. “I love you too, you idiot. I’ve been trying not to for years, and you just… you keep making it impossible.”

He laughed, bright and happy, and pulled her into a hug, his chin resting on her head. “Good. I’m not stopping now that I know.”

She buried her face in his chest, his hoodie soft against her cheek, and let herself feel it—really feel it—for the first time. The relief, the joy, the way his arms fit around her like they were made to. They stayed like that, swaying slightly, until she pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were on hers, warm and a little teary, and she couldn’t help it—she leaned up, and he met her halfway, their foreheads touching.

“I love you,” she whispered, testing the words aloud, and they felt right—scary, but right.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his breath brushing her lips, and then he grinned. “We’re so sappy right now.”

She laughed, loud and free, and punched his arm lightly. “You’re the worst! Dragging me out to a park at night like this is some melodrama? We could’ve just talked on your couch, you know.”

“Hey, it’s romantic!” he defended, clutching his arm dramatically. “Parks are classic. Moonlight, quiet, just us—it’s perfect.”

“It’s cold,” she shot back, but she was grinning, her heart so full it hurt. “And you’re a dork.”

“Your dork,” he said, winking, and she groaned, shoving him again.

“Stop, I’m gonna barf,” she teased, but then she went quiet, her smile fading as reality crept in. She stepped back, hugging herself despite his hoodie, and looked down at the gravel. “Vernon… what about everything else?”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You’re… you,” she said, gesturing vaguely at him. “An artist. A star. You’ve got fans, a company, a career you’ve worked so hard for. What happens when they find out? I don’t—” She bit her lip, her voice dropping. “I don’t want to mess that up for you. I’ve seen how much you’ve given to get here. What if this… what if us screws it all up?”

He watched her, letting her ramble, her words tumbling out faster now. “What if the fans hate me? What if your company says no? What if there’s some stupid scandal and you get dragged for it? I can’t—I won’t—be the reason you lose everything. I’d hate myself for it, Vernon, I—”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” he cut in, stepping closer and grabbing her hands again. She stopped, breath ragged, and he tugged her gently until she looked up at him. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling, I’m being realistic,” she argued, but her voice wobbled. “This stuff matters. You matter.”

“You matter more,” he said simply, and before she could protest, he pulled her closer, his hands sliding up to cup her face. Then his lips were on hers—soft, warm, a little hesitant at first, but firm enough to shut her up. She gasped against him, her hands clutching his hoodie, and he deepened the kiss just enough to make her melt, her fears dissolving into the sweetness of it.

He pulled back after a moment, resting his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. “You done freaking out now?” he murmured, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Vernon,” she whined, but she was smiling despite herself, her cheeks flushed. “You can’t just kiss me to stop me from talking.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he said, grinning, and pecked her lips again, quick and playful. “Look, I get it. You’re worried. But I’m not. I’ve thought about this—about you—for a long time. The fans? The company? I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. I’m not letting some ‘what if’ take you away from me now that I’ve got you.”

“But—” she started, and he kissed her again, softer this time, lingering just long enough to make her heart flutter.

“No buts,” he said, pulling back to look at her, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. “I love you, and that’s bigger than any of that crap. If the fans don’t like it, they’ll get over it. If the company’s mad, I’ll deal with them. I’m not hiding you, Y/N. You’re not some secret I’m ashamed of—you’re my girl.”

Her eyes widened, and she felt that sting again, tears threatening. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” he said, shy now, his ears turning pink. “If you want to be. I mean… I hope you do.”

She laughed, a little watery, and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “You’re so stupid,” she mumbled. “Of course I do.”

“Good,” he said, hugging her back, his chin resting on her head. “’Cause I’m not letting you go. Ever. You’re stuck with me now—cheesy park walks and all.”

She pulled back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve—his sleeve—and grinned. “You’re the worst. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he said, beaming, and tugged her hand again. “Come on, let’s keep walking. I’m not done being sappy yet.”

She groaned dramatically but followed, their hands swinging between them, the night air cool but her heart warm. “If you propose under a tree or something, I’m running.”

“Noted,” he laughed, squeezing her hand. “I’ll save that for next week.”

“Vernon!”

“Kidding!” he said, but his grin said otherwise, and she couldn’t help but laugh too, the sound mingling with his as they walked deeper into the park, together at last.

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

Months had passed since that night in the park, and if Y/N thought Vernon was clingy before, she hadn’t seen anything yet. He’d practically moved into her apartment—not officially, but his stuff was everywhere. His hoodies hung in her closet, outnumbering her own. A spare pair of his sneakers sat by her door, scuffed from tour but still claimed as “the comfiest ones.” His favorite mug—a chipped, ugly thing with a cartoon octopus on it—lived permanently on her kitchen counter, and his toothbrush had taken up residence in her bathroom like it owned the place. She’d come home from work to find him sprawled on her couch, legs dangling over the armrest, grinning at her like he’d been waiting all day just to say, “Hey, you’re back.”

“Vernon,” she’d said one evening, hands on her hips as she surveyed the chaos of his stuff, “do you even live at your own place anymore?”

He’d looked up from his spot on the floor—sorting through a pile of vinyls he’d dragged over from his collection—and grinned, all teeth and mischief. “Yeah, but yours is better. It’s got you.”

She’d rolled her eyes, but her heart had done that fluttery thing it always did when he got sappy. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, plopping down beside him.

“And you love me,” he’d shot back, leaning over to kiss her cheek, quick and soft, before handing her a record. “Pick one. I’m DJ-ing tonight.”

She did love it—every messy, clingy bit of it. He’d weave himself into her days so seamlessly she couldn’t imagine them apart. When he wasn’t on tour, he’d cook with her (badly, but enthusiastically), sprawl across her lap during movie nights, or just sit there, humming some melody while she worked, his presence warm and constant. And when he was on tour, he’d turn it up a notch, like he was making up for the distance in sheer persistence.

“Come with me,” he’d whined one morning, half-asleep as he watched her pack his suitcase for a week-long trip abroad. He’d grabbed her wrist, tugging her onto the bed where he was still tangled in her sheets. “C’mon, quit your job. Be my travel buddy. I’ll pay you in cuddles.”

She’d laughed, swatting his hand away. “I can’t, you dork. Some of us have real jobs.”

“Rude,” he’d grumbled, sitting up to wrap his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “My job’s real. And it’d be realer with you there.”

“Nice try,” she’d said, kissing the top of his head. “You’ll survive.”

He didn’t, though—not without her voice, at least. The second he landed, her phone buzzed. No texting for Vernon—not anymore. He’d send a quick “Miss you already” or “Plane food sucks, wish you’d cooked instead,” but the moment her “seen” receipt popped up, it was over. Her screen would light up with his name, and there he’d be, grinning at her through FaceTime like he hadn’t just talked to her an hour ago.

“Hi,” he’d say, every time, like it was a surprise she’d answered.

“Hi,” she’d reply, propping her phone on her desk at work or against a pillow at home. “You good?”

“Better now,” he’d say, cheesy but so earnest it made her smile every time. “What’re you doing? Tell me everything.”

And she would—every boring detail of her day, from the coffee she spilled on her shirt to the cat she saw on her walk home—because he’d listen like it was the best story he’d ever heard, chiming in with “No way” or “That’s my girl” until she was laughing too hard to keep going.

“I’m clingy, huh?” he’d asked once, late at night, his voice crackly through the phone as he lay in some hotel bed halfway across the world.

“Super clingy,” she’d teased, curled up under her blanket—wearing his hoodie, of course. “But I like it.”

“Good,” he’d said, sleepy and smug. “’Cause I’m not stopping.”

True to his word, he didn’t hide her—not really. He didn’t plaster her face all over his socials; he wasn’t that reckless. But he’d slip her into his posts like little love notes only she’d fully understand. A photo of his coffee table with her favorite hair tie in the corner. A shot of his hotel room where her scarf peeked out of his suitcase. A blurry snap of their hands intertwined, her chipped nail polish catching the light. “Details,” he’d caption them, vague enough to keep the fans guessing but obvious to her.

They’d started to suspect, of course. Comments piled up—“Who’s that?” “Vernon’s got a gf???” “Is that the same hair tie from last month?”—and the theories ran wild. But he didn’t care, and neither did she, not really. They stayed the same—him calling her at all hours, her pretending to be annoyed but loving every second.

One night, he was back at her place after a short trip, sprawled across her couch with his head in her lap again, her fingers running absently through his hair. He’d been home a week, and her apartment was more his than ever—his guitar propped in the corner, his socks scattered on the floor, a half-eaten bag of that sour candy he’d bought her months ago still on the counter.

“Missed this,” he mumbled, eyes half-closed as he nuzzled into her thigh. “Missed you.”

“You were gone, like, three days,” she said, laughing softly, but she leaned down to kiss his forehead anyway. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Three days is forever,” he whined, cracking one eye open to look at her. “You didn’t miss me?”

“Of course I did,” she said, poking his cheek. “Who else is gonna clog my sink with their dumb hair?”

He grinned, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “You love my dumb hair.”

“I love you,” she said, and it slipped out so easily now, no hesitation, no hiding. His grin widened, and he sat up, pulling her into his arms so fast she yelped.

“Say it again,” he demanded, resting his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her lips.

“I love you,” she repeated, giggling as he peppered her face with kisses—cheeks, nose, chin, everywhere—until she was squirming and laughing too hard to breathe.

“I love you too,” he said between kisses, finally landing one on her lips, slow and sweet. “So much.”

She melted into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, and they stayed like that, tangled up on her couch, the TV flickering some random show neither of them cared about. “You’re stuck with me, you know,” he murmured after a while, his voice soft against her hair. “All day, all night. No take-backs.”

“Good,” she whispered back, snuggling closer. “I wouldn’t want any.”

And as he hummed happily, his arms tightening around her, she thought maybe this—his clinginess, his chaos, his love—was the sweetest thing she’d ever known. Her apartment was his, her days were his, and her heart? Well, that’d been his for

[glitterjay]

hi can u do overstimulating enha hyung line 🤭

⭒ ovsertimulation, crying, praising, oet names, masturbation and head (m. receiving), denial or orgasm, various orgasms, sub!enha

⭒ c's note: ITS MY PLEASURE

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin

heeseung is shaking, spasming as his dick is swollen and red. you're giving him the best head he has ever gotten in his life, but you're also being a menace. every time his moans get a lot higher and when his cock twitches in your mouth, you stop completely. you simply leave his dick with a pop, and he's desperately trying to get you to suck him off again to reach his high. it even comes to the point where he gets so sensitive his body is shaking nonstop, even your breath could make him cum.

jay.exe has stopped working. he's seeing stars on top of his head, his vision a little blurry either from tears or from the amount of rush going through his body at once. you told him he wasnt allowed to cum until you told him so, and he's been a good boy, but god he's about to explode. he's holding to that chair for dear life, the veins in his arms popping due to the amount of force he's using.

jake is a crying and whimpering mess. he has cummed more than twice by now and even two strokes could get him to cum again. he's gasping, hiccuping, begging you to spare him just once. he chokes on his own tears, desperately trying to get away from you and your hands, but he's so drained that all he can do is stay there like a loser.

sunghoon's head is thrown back as he hugs a pillow over it, muffling his sounds. you kept looking at him from your eyelashes as you deep throated his cock. his eyes rolled to the back of his head every time you gagged, and he cummed every time too. he's also crying, but you can't really see it because of the pillow, but you can definitely feel his hiccups through his dick.

© glitterjay | tumblr

[paddedlittleparadise]

Victoria Volunteers, Part Five

Be sure to check out Parts One, Two, Three, and Four!

No thinking. Good girls don't think. Good girls let go. Good girls relax. And you… are a good girl. A very good little girl…

The chorus of whispers – some in sultry feminine tones, others in now masculine rumbles – seeped out through the headphones and into the hapless woman's brain. How long she had been here in this medical facility, she no longer knew. She no longer knew much of anything, in fact – not even how many times she'd fallen into unconsciousness and then blinked back to confused reality. Besides, how could anyone think straight with all these voices echoing nonstop in their ears?

Little. Yes, a little girl. You're forgetting everything else… except that you're a good, obedient little girl. You've always been a little girl… so very good and little and obedient…

Was that the truth? Victoria's external struggles had ceased long before – the straitjacket and bonds had seen to that – but now a small, tired burst of resistance flared within her drowsy brain. No… adult. She was… adult. Young adult. And good girl…? Well, Daddy had called her that in years past. Mandy also liked to joke about her "little" sister. And so she… well, she kinda was? The voice… it might be right after all…

Little girls like you… they forget. They don't have to think… or remember… or do anything. They get to relax. Yes… relax. Let everything go. Everything. Their thoughts… their memories… their bodies…

Victoria twitched silently, her mind and body still struggling feebly against the regression programming. But she… she didn't want to forget… did she? Somewhere far off – in the faint corners of her mind – there seemed to be something about urgency. Something between her legs, deep in her belly. Something she had to do…

Good little girls… they always want to become good little babies. Yes, they do. So sweet, so cute, so adorable… You're a good little girl… and we know. We know how you long to be an even better baby… Because babies don't even know how to think. They can't. They just play… and sleep… and drink. They crawl and cry and coo… Their bodies don't obey them… They have no control, because they don't even know what control is…

Control. What… was this control about? Victoria was having trouble remembering amid the wash of sound. Whatever it was, it sounded hard. She was so tired after all this fighting. She just wanted it all to stop. To relax. To let everything fade away…

And you don't know either… do you? Of course you don't. You don't even understand the question anymore – and that's because you've become a little baby now. Oh, yes. You already have. No control… no thoughts… just relaxing every… single… muscle… Letting everything go…

Something slowly unclenched deep within her now. Victoria's bound body twitched involuntarily… but it was a primal reflex and nothing more. Her mind was drifting now: only vaguely aware in the dreamiest of ways of the trickling sensation between her legs… and practically oblivious to the warm, silently swelling bulk of the diaper as it drank in her first infantile accident.

–––

Above her, and unseen by Victoria's glazed eyes, a blue light winked. A moment later, it winked again. And then again… the only indication of the high-resolution camera mounted there, and which was effortlessly documenting this patient's first and most momentous foray into regression therapy.

Not that Victoria was aware of it, of course. Let alone that her image – as a bound, gagged, and diapered prisoner – was at that very moment flashing up on a monitor some three hundred miles away in her elder step-sister Mandy's office.

An image, it must be confessed, that brought a slow, satisfied smirk to Mandy's handsome face.

(The end – for now!)

Image Credit: ABDreams.com

Be sure to check out my Patreon or my Ream Stories if you want to read more of my naughty fiction!

[hysteria-things]

Hey girl so I’ve been watching the new Sam and Colby video and there’s A LOT of Matt edits of him being blindfolded so I wanted to ask only if your comfortable to write a smut story abt Matt being blindfolded and you do the rest ONLY IF YOUR COMFORTABLE NO PRESSURE

BLINDFOLD

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s usually the dom when it comes to sex, but what’ll happen if the tables are turned?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, palming, blindfold, faux-sympathy, vibrator, oral (male receiving), p in v, overstimulation, unprotected sex (big no no!), cockwarming at the end

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 867

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i couldn’t think of a buildup so we’re just jumping in!

ALSO i promise more chris stuff is coming.

taking the red silk, you wrap the blindfold around your boyfriend’s head so it can cover his eyes. he’s grinning widely because he finally let you be in control. “what do you have in store, baby?” he says, smirking afterward. even though he can’t see you, he knows you’re enjoying this.

“you’ll see,” you reply, taking your nails and gently grazing them down his bare chest.

you’re straddling his lap, the only clothing on him is his underwear. you, however, still have your clothes on.

he’s starting to get hard, so you take your hand and start palming the bulge through his boxers. you hear his breath hitch, making you grin even wider.

he exhales out a long breath, his hands gripping the sheets below him.

you shimmy down his legs so your face is right in front of his crotch, still palming him when you leave kisses on his boner.

he moans softly, moistening his lips with his tongue. fuck he finds this so hot. “you’re already twitching, matthew. are you going to cum in your boxers? how cute.” you pout, his hips rutting upward.

“how do you like it? getting teased like this. doesn’t feel good, does it? poor matt, not so big and bad now. i’m going to be the one to make you moan my name tonight.” you squeeze his dick gently and he jolts. “am i right?”

he nods frantically. “y-yes. you—“ he’s cut off with a whine, his hot cum seeping through the fabric, leaving a wet stain dead center.

he takes a deep breath once the air hits his dick, that you let spring free from the boxer’s grasp. because of his orgasm, it’s wet all around his tip and base. you take your hand, moving it up and down on him. “f-fuck.” he whispers, mouth hanging open as you keep moving your hand.

you find a box under your bed — the box where your vibrator is. you take it out, placing it on his red and swollen tip.

his brows furrow. “what’s that— o-oh.” he’s cut off with a moan when the low vibration runs through his body. with your hand and the vibe, he’s internally going crazy.

you circle the tip with the bullet, looking at his face as it keeps contorting into different expressions of pleasure. you remove your hand, replacing it with your mouth.

sloppily wrapping your mouth around his shaft, you can taste the remains of his first orgasm. then, you start to lick his tip. “f-fuck!” he exclaims, grabbing onto your hair. not tight, but enough to keep you there. “o-oh my— god, y/n.”

he starts to squirm beneath you, thrusting slightly onto your tongue. you’re still kitty-licking him, smirking when you see pre-cum start to leak out.

removing your mouth, you turn the vibrator on high. he moans loudly, and you’re straddling his lap once again. you give an opened mouth kiss, matt moaning nonstop in your mouth. “do you like the way you taste?”

“mhm.” he mumbles, sweat trickling from his forehead and on his chest. “cumming! i-i’m cumming, baby.”

he pulls away to throw his head back, moaning into the air once his release shoots out of his dick.

you turn the vibrator off, giving him time to catch his breath once you get off of his lap. “w-where’d you go?” he pants.

“over here,” you say at the foot of the bed, undressing yourself slowly. he’s so far into submission, and you want to admire that while you can.

once you’re fully nude, you crawl on top of him and align yourself. you gasp the more you place yourself on him, both moaning once you’re full. you grind your hips slowly, leaning in to kiss his jaw. “my pretty boy.” you say lowly, matt grabbing your hips.

“p-please ride me,” he begs, whimpering once you start to bounce fast in his cock.

he knows it’s a lot for him, but it feels so good. his head is fuzzy, the only thought in there is the way you clamp down on him, your whines and moans filling his ears. “y/n, i-it’s too much.”

“just be patient, baby, okay?” you say soothingly, caressing his cheek. “you’re doing great.”

you curse under your breath when you feel yourself cum all over him. “you feel that, pretty boy? you feel me creaming on your cock?”

“uh huh.” he says hoarsely, his voice becoming weak. “please let me cum inside you. p-please.”

he whines, his dick twitching from overstimulation. the way your walls feel has him whimpering over and over. he loves the way you squeeze around him whether he’s on top or not.

his body shakes, ropes of white cum painting your walls white. you stop, still in position once you take the blindfold off.

matt’s eyes blink at the sudden sight, his bottom lip quivering and his eyes filled with tears. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in as close as you can get.

he lays flatly on the bed, his arms wrapped around your waist. you cockwarm him, not having the stamina to lift yourself. as time goes by, you guys quickly fall asleep in each other’s hold.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07

[httpvomitello]

Hi!! Can I request a TMNT 2012 Donnie X M!Reader? (Headcanons or fanfic is your pick :D)

The reader is stoic, quiet, and blunt, with a monotone voice and a resting bitch face, which can make him seem rude even though that’s never his intention. But, he’s completely obsessed with history—like, he could talk about it for hours on end! When the topic comes up, his eyes light up, and he gets so excited, talking nonstop without even realizing it. Also, could his love language be Acts of Service for both giving and receiving? He’s also an excellent listener. :)

Hello, hello! I hope you like it ♡♡♡♡

My moment of knowing a little history will shine now ~

donnie x m!reader

Bitch, Please! *⁠.⁠✧

It was quiet in the lair, save for the occasional sound of Donnie tinkering in his lab. The soft hum of his computers filled the space, the purple-masked turtle lost in his latest project. His focus was absolute until the familiar sound of your footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Donnie,” you said, your monotone voice breaking the silence. Despite the neutral tone and your infamous resting expression, Donnie’s face lit up at the sight of you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, setting his tools aside. “What’s up? Need something fixed?”

You shook your head. “No. Just thought I’d hang out here. It’s quieter than the living room.”

Donnie chuckled softly, already understanding that this was your way of saying you wanted to spend time with him. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. To anyone else, you might have seemed disinterested or even annoyed, but Donnie knew better. He saw the subtle changes in your posture, the slight shift of your weight when you were comfortable around someone.

As Donnie turned back to his work, you watched him quietly, your eyes scanning over the intricate gadgets and blueprints scattered across his desk. After a few minutes, you finally broke the silence.

“So... I was reading about the Byzantine Empire earlier.”

That was all it took. Donnie didn’t even get the chance to ask a follow-up question before you launched into an impassioned explanation about Justinian I, the Hagia Sophia, and how the empire's politics shaped modern Europe. Your voice gained just a hint of excitement as you spoke, your eyes lighting up as you dove deeper into the topic.

“And then there’s Theodora,” you continued, your words tumbling out faster now. “She’s so underrated. Like, people talk about Justinian, but without her, half of his policies wouldn’t have worked. She was a genius.”

Donnie wasn’t much of a history buff himself, but he loved these moments. Seeing you so animated, so alive, made his chest tighten in the best way. He didn’t interrupt, letting you talk as much as you wanted. It was one of the things he adored most about you—how your passion could take center stage, even when your personality was more reserved.

When you finally paused for a breath, Donnie smiled softly. “You know, you’re amazing when you talk about history.”

You blinked at him, your expression unreadable. “Amazing?”

“Yeah,” he said, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red. “I mean, it’s obvious how much you love it. It’s... captivating.”

You stared at him for a moment before your lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Thanks, Donnie.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while after that. You quietly admired the way he worked, his hands precise and confident as he adjusted wires and soldered pieces together. And though you didn’t say it out loud, you loved these moments just as much as he did.

When he finished, Donnie leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Whew, finally done. What do you think?” He gestured to a small handheld gadget on the table.

You picked it up, examining it closely. “It’s perfect.”

The simple praise made Donnie’s heart swell. He knew you didn’t give compliments lightly, and hearing it from you meant the world.

Before he could respond, you set the gadget down and pulled a small leather-bound book from your bag. “Made this for you,” you said, holding it out.

Donnie’s eyes widened as he took the journal. “You... made this?”

You nodded. “Figured you could use something to jot down your ideas. The leather’s reinforced, so it should hold up in the lab.”

“Y/N, this is incredible.” He flipped through the pages, his fingers brushing over the crisp, high-quality paper. “Thank you.”

“Figured it’d be useful,” you said simply, but Donnie could see the faintest hint of satisfaction in your eyes. Acts of service were how you showed your love, and every detail in the journal screamed how much thought you’d put into it.

Donnie set the journal aside and reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you didn’t pull away. “You’ve said that already.”

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he replied, a soft smile on his face.

[xazse]

im in heat (ovulating) and I jus can't stop thinking about scaramouche helping his lil bunny out when shes in heat:(

love ur content btw, I literally shit myself when I found out u also wrote for jjk.. can I kiss u platonically

SCARAMOUCHE X FEM!BUNNYGIRLREADER

Notes: This is for you<3 and I’m glad you liked my jjk readings, (ofc you can have a platonic kiss!!!) HOPE YOU ENJOY<33

Tags: Smut all around! Tit-sucking, mentions of blowjobs, hybrid!reader, Heats

Pairings: SCARAMOUCHE X FEM!BUNNYGIRLREADER

You’ve been downright annoying, constantly bugging him with your insatiable behavior, whether it’s you gripping onto him for him to stay in bed with you, or it’s you rubbing yourself on him at night trying to stir him awake.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with you, after another evening of you interrupting his private time he’s done. He takes you to the on site doctor, it doesn’t take 20 minutes before the doctor automatically says you’re in a “heat” since Scaramouche is confused the doctor gathers this must be your first one. He says that whatever needs you may be whining about can either be fulfilled or he can leave you to some specialists he knows, Scaramouche agaisnt that and just takes you back.

He’s taken a week off just for you, you should be happy for him to rot in this room with you constantly in his face, and you are, you show that in a tenthfold.

The first day is spent with you pawing at him and urging him to remove his clothing and yours as well. He can admit it is a little cute to see you beg.

Precise hands slip off your panties, you’re hot to the touch and absolutely dripping, poor bunny being denied for so long due to his confusion. His fingers slip into your cunt and begin fingering you, you’re positioned on your back with both legs spread out wide. Your small plush tail is twitching everytime he plunges his fingers deep into you, hearing small whimpers leaving your throat. His fingers are relentless with their assault on your sensitive insides, he makes sure to press on your spot every so often, sending you into a flurry of sexual emotions.

When he continues, he’s just surprised at the amount of cum coating his hands, the copious amount of slick close to his wrist. You look like you’re on cloud nine, glossed eyes, glossy lips covered in your drool is making him throb.

He quickly unbuttons his pants, letting his fat cock free. He uses his cum covered hand and coats his cock generously, you start to mewl at the loss of his fingers, already attempting to sit up he pushes you to lay back down.

“Relax woman” he scoffs out, your eyes wind down to the way he’s stroking himself, getting off to just the needy expression on your face, you take it a step further by lifting up your shirt, you didn’t even bother with a bra today. This really does the trick and he pounces onto you, so quick to line his cock up with your hole.

A few minutes later and he’s balls deep inside of you, your legs are wrapped around his torso, arms wrapped around his neck and your loud moans going right into his ear. His hips are moving so fast, cock bullying into you, you’re stuffed to the brim: yelping about how good it feels, how much you love him, it’s not long before your entire body pulls him closer and your cumming all around him.

The days afterwards are so dizzying, sex is all that plagues your mind, the room ends up being so hot, so sweaty, all you can think about is the thick cock filling you up, cumming inside you nonstop. Once he’d grabbed your tall ears while you were sucking him off, your fingers wildly rubbing your clit, and you let out the loudest Moan, you slumped against him, panting open mouthed: signaling that you just came for the 2nd time that random night.

The make-out sessions were just as dirty, it was mainly scara shoving his tongue down your throat, holding you by the wrists tight so you couldn’t pull back from it. He barely gave you time to take a break to breathe, lewd slurping sounds resonate through the room.

Scara also pleasures you by sucking on your breasts, though most times the stimulation isn’t there, but with your heat it’s at an all time high, your fingers tightens into his hair, urging him to not stop sucking.

[pedriache]

About you — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’d been two months since Gavi asked out Lucia, two months since you’d talked to him. Two long, dreadful months. But the no contact hadn’t lasted any longer, because when the clock hit 11:40, Gavi was standing outside your door in the pouring rain, begging to talk.

Word count: 860

Disclaimer/s: this is a part two to Casual ! Angst to a hopeful ending.

A/N: this is sooo long overdue apologies..

Your house was deadly silent as you paced around, the only sound emitting throughout it was the thunder outside. Your deadline for a transfer request was in an hour, and you couldn’t make up your mind. You needed to escape, to get far away from this city. From him. But a small part of you just couldn’t make up your mind.

On one hand, the transfer to Paris gave you tons of new opportunities, but that also meant leaving all your family to live in a country you didn’t know. On the other.. that meant you could start over. Live a life free of Pablo, free of torment, and most of all, it gave you time to yourself.

As if could ever truly be free from him. As if you could ever forget him.

Twenty minutes. You had twenty minutes to accept. Hesitantly walking toward the computer, the screen shining brightly, showing the two emails you’d typed out. One accepting, the other declining.

You lick your lips, reaching toward the send button, when a knock sounds at your door. Jumping slightly, you turn around, facing the wooden door in surprise.

Without thinking, your feet move for you, dragging you toward it. Your hands too move for you, unlocking and opening the door.

In front of you is someone who’d been on your mind nonstop for years, more-so in the last few months. He was drenched from head to toe, his hoodie clinging to him as the light grey had long since turned dark. He looked like a wet puppy. How long had he been standing there?

He says your name, urgent and afraid. “Please don’t go.”

Please don’t go.

Confusion flashes across your face, how did he even find out? “What?” You choke out, heart pounding in your chest. “How—get inside. You’re going to get pneumonia.” You grumble, swinging the door wide open and stepping aside.

Pablo does as told, taking hesitant steps into the warmth of your entry way. The door had only just clicked shut when he begins to speak again, “There is so much I want to say to you, but first, I need to say i’m sorry.” He’s breathing heavily, as if he’d just run a marathon.

Mouth opening to speak, to insist he shut up, you’re the one being shut down. “No! Let me get it out! Lucia and I—we broke up. Well, she broke up with me. Said, ‘I couldn’t love her when I still clearly loved you.’ And I realized then how badly I fucked things over. Because,” he sucks in a deep breath, whispering your name like it was the most delicate thing in the world, “fuck, I love you. I love you, and i’m sorry I couldn’t admit that till I already fucked things up.”

Your mouth opens and closes for what must’ve been a hundred times, stunned by his sudden confession. “Pablo—“

“Please, don’t go to Paris. I can’t let you get away again. I need you here. I need you to stay.” His eyebrows scrunch together as he looks at you, “I need you.” He says it slowly, making sure you latched on to every syllable.

With your chest rising and falling in uneven intervals, your eyes flicker across his face. He’s desperate, like losing you would physically end him. A look only comparable to when he’d torn his ACL.

“Oh, fuck.” You groan, “oh fuck you. Why are you doing this to me? After all this time—why when i’m just about to move on. Why couldn’t you do this before I figured my shit out.”

“Because I was—I am stupid. I’m an idiot, but i’m here now. I’m here, in front of you, begging you to stay.” He pleads with his eyes, with his hands, that were twitching at his sides, trying not to hold you, with his voice.. “I’ll get on my knees, i’ll do anything. Just please, please stay.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you try to think logically. You try to think about how much you wanted this for so long, but also how badly he’d hurt you.. Do you trust your head or your heart?

But at the end of the day, the heart always won.

“Okay.” You finally say, nodding your head slowly. “I’ll stay.” You glance at the clock on the wall a few feet away, it was 12:01. “Not like I had a choice, the deadline just passed.”

Pablo lets out a sigh of relief, one that had your eyes narrowing. “Don’t sound too upset about it.” You quip, though your voice lacked amusement.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “So—“

“You make my life so difficult.” Grumbling, you motion for him to follow you, “you need to take a warm shower, i’ll find you something to change into. I do not want to get a cold because of you.”

With a little pep in his step, Pablo trails behind you. “Okay, so what does this mean? Am I forgiven or..”

“Well, no! But you’re getting there.” You reply simply, knowing deep down he’d been forgiven the moment he uttered those five words. ‘I love you, i’m sorry.’

I just tagged everyone who asked for a part two, apologies ^_^

DTS , @halfwayhearted @pabl0andm3 @gadriezmannsgirl @spidybaby @alexis1taylorr @htpssgavi

[mctvsh]

pt. 2 kidnapped!enemy!medic!reader x polytf141

cw: military & war inaccuracies, reader uses she/her pronouns, and is mostly girl based, reader has long enough hair to smack her in the face

proofread-ish

by now, it had been a little over 2 hours of sitting still and silence. afraid one wrong move could cost you your whole life. the Captain had left, surveilling outside with a fat cig hanging out the side of his mouth. the pretty boy, whose name is Gaz (as you've learned from Scot's nonstop chatter), was sitting next to the laid down the chatterbox, whose name you have also come to know as Soap (Ghost told him to shut up, which he did not do).. anyways, what good does this do you? nothing. you still didn't even know the Captain's name.

you continue to sit still for a few minutes, Soap's never ending talking echoing in the room and all you could do is internally sigh with how annoying he was.. although, his cheerfulness DID ease your worries. though it was instantly stopped everytime you realized Ghost was 2 feet away from you and was clutching his gun like it would grow legs and walk away from him.

you glance around once more, ears ringing. you sigh, loud and definitely unashamed. to which you gained a more intense glare fromm Ghost, and a pause in Soap's sentence. yikes.

"My bad.." you grumble, using up all your self control to not roll your eyes.

as if he could intimidate you..

"Ye seem tae hae yer panties in a twist bonnie." Soap says with a shit-eating grin. Gaz stares at you, surprisingly sympathetic.

you glance at him, eyes narrowed.

"Nope. Just fine, thanks.." you mumble, lips in a pressed, tight line. before you practically jolt. a loud clank coming from the door that Price had exited out of.

oh great, watch it be a hyena with how bad your luck is..

and nope, it's the Captain. close enough to be honest.

"Choppers here, git." the Captain's voice rumbles, although, he had a hint of warmness nonetheless.

either way, you're grabbed like cattle by Ghost and set on his shoulder, face to face with his ass, which would be a nice sight if you didn't hate his guts. okay so, you're on your way to die. you look up the best you can, facing a grin from Soap as his chest rumbles with laughter at the sight of you.

what the hell is so funny, bastard?

you were starting to get hungry, honestly.. Gaz had caught up to the Captain before your ears twitch. oh? his name..

"Price.." Gaz says before the rest of his words fade as he whispers to incoherent sentences.

Captain Price.. it has a nice ring to it,

you guess..

wait, who cares!? you'll be dead soon anyways!

you walk out and you hear a loud whirl from the helicopter which you were facing away from, hair flying in your face and catching onto your mouth. and now you're being manhandled onto the chopper, hitting your head on the frame with a yelp. you can feel all four of their eyes on you after that one.

"Tha's real charming, lassie." Soap, again.

if you had a gun, you'd shoot him first. why is he even able to stand up or walk right now? sure the gash wasn't that deep but.. you bet it still hurt. especially with the stitches.

whatever, not your problem.

"Leave 'er be, Soap." the Captain, coming to the rescue! you still don't like him..

but he IS handsome, and.. wait. pause. why are you thirsting over one of your kidnappers? is this stockholm syndrome?

anyways! you're set on the seat, before having your hands tied up. behind you.

"Hah, pretty sight, huh?" Gaz finally speaks, amusement in his eyes.

you can feel your cheeks redden, but hopefully not noticeable because you send a firm glare to him, annoyed. they don't seem convinced, though you couldn't tell with Ghost manhandling your wrists. tying them together and then setting his big body across from you, his head leaning against the window and closing his eyes. arms crossed. Soap was grinning, and you can hear Price give instructions to some guy named Nikolai, in the front.

who knows what'll happen next. you're not excited and you can feel your stomach growling. eyes pulled in a tight furrow and lips slightly frowning as you glance outside. arms already sore, why the hell did he tie it so tight.. whatever..

all you can hear is a russian saying how long it'll take to get back to base.

6 hours. 6 hours of torture with more of your kidnappers, great.

for now all you can do is feel your eyes get heavier and heavier.. until your body cowers, your head dropping down and that's that.

tysm for the support on the first part, you all are so sweet 🥹

——————————————————————

@2bdamnedmadnesscombat

@lilyalone

[dioslesbianwife]

You know what time it is chaos time.

The jofoes partner saying the as so beautiful she wishes she could get them pregnant.

Like they helped her with something important and her saying thank you beautiful man I wish I could get you pregnant.

LMAO i would def say this to them (cause it's true) anyway totally, hope you enjoy and ty for the laugh and requesting

Dio

He literally freezes for a second like his brain blue screens.

"…You…wish you could… get me pregnant?" He repeats it slowly, like he can’t quite believe his ears.

Then he bursts out laughing- the smug, delighted kind.

"Of course you do. I am a vision of perfection, after all."

He leans down and cups your chin, purring: "Tell me again, my dear... Tell me all the absurd little things you would do to worship me."

He's SO into it. He thinks it's hilarious and adorable and he feeds off the worship like it's oxygen.

Kars

Kars just raises an eyebrow at you at first.

"That is biologically impossible."

(Thanks, Captain Obvious.)

But when he sees your very earnest, starry-eyed expression, he actually smiles, a rare genuine one.

"You would wish to give me life? Hm... A fascinating sentiment."

Secretly? He’s absolutely preening inside. His ego is stroked SO perfectly.

He’ll teasingly remind you later, too: "Careful. Admiration like that may compel me to keep you at my side forever."

Yoshikage Kira

Kira chokes a little bit.

He's trying to help you reach something off a high shelf when you say it- and he just stops moving entirely.

"…You…you think I'm...pretty?" he says very quietly, almost stunned.

You nod seriously, and he blushes faintly, smoothing his hair back.

"That’s… very flattering."

(Internally he's screaming.)

For the rest of the day, he’s lowkey dazed and keeps sneaking glances at you like you hung the damn moon.

Diavolo

Diavolo immediately glares at you -  but it’s very obvious he’s flustered.

"Tch. Foolishness."

But also... the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

You can practically hear him replaying it in his head on loop later, brooding in his dark throne room like,

"She wishes she could impregnate me...because I am beautiful..."

He’s smug about it for DAYS.

If you bring it up again, he’ll growl, "Say it again." (But softer. And he won't meet your eyes.)

Doppio

Doppio turns BEET RED.

"H-Huh?!! You want to-  get me- pregnant? What the hell does that even mean?"

He covers his face with his hands and crouches down like he's about to explode from secondhand embarrassment.

"You think I'm that pretty...?"

You reassure him and he just lets out a tiny whimper.

For like a week straight after, whenever you compliment him, he’ll get shy and mutter "She wants to get me pregnant..." like it’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to him.

Enrico Pucci

Pucci stares at you silently for a long moment.

"That… is not how biology works." He says it with a totally straight face.

But his ears are turning pink.

He tries to turn it into a theological discussion about life and creation and destiny- 

but you can tell he’s secretly flattered to hell and back.

He’s a little extra affectionate after that: lingering touches, softer voice, glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

Funny Valentine

Valentine chuckles immediately.

"Such patriotic devotion to your president, my dear."

He tilts your chin up and gives you a sly, knowing smile.

"If I could be blessed with such a thing... it would be a child as beautiful and strong as its parents."

Plays along smoothly because God, he loves how much you adore him.

Will absolutely offer to get you pregnant instead.

Diego Brando

Diego does a double take like he MISHEARD YOU.

"You wanna WHAT- ??"

He’s caught somewhere between being insulted (he's not some weak thing!!) and SO smug because you think he's beautiful.

He smirks, ruffles your hair, and says, "Yeah, you’re obsessed with me. Can’t blame you."

Teases you about it nonstop after:

"Bet you'd knock me up if you could, huh? Make me your cute little trophy husband?"

(He's secretly kinda into the idea, not that he'd ever admit it.)

Tooru

Tooru grins like an idiot.

"Aww, Y/N-chan-  you think I'm that pretty, huh?"

He immediately jumps on you, pretending to faint dramatically into your arms: "Impregnate me, my goddess!!"

He plays it up so bad you’re both laughing, but then later he just looks at you, all soft and earnest:

"You're seriously too cute."

Starts using it as blackmail when he wants attention: "You SAID you wanna get me pregnant. C’mon, cuddle me."

[meowordeath]

Howdy! Is it alright if I ask for you to make a continuation of the “Characters reacting to reader’s clothing ripping”? And possibly with Edgar Valden, Mike Morton and whatever others you’d like?

Identity V characters reacting to their s/o clothes getting ripped! part 2 :3

w/ Edgar Valden & Mike Morton !

A/N : I really hope I didn’t write them too ooc, also sorry this took forever.

content warnings - sfw, mentions of blood, Bane, Violetta, fluff

Edgar Valden

You had been kiting for most of the match trying your best to keep the hunter, who is bane, away from Helena. You were provoke emoting at him which was just angering him.

If Bane could talk you don’t even want to guess what he’d say. “Surprised even with all those traps you still can’t catch me!” You provoke, he grunts angrily at you swiping his hook.

Using your sprint you duck behind a pallet. right behind that Edgar was there pallet stunning him, getting his face in the process.

“How unsightly, a rouge animal.” Edgar says to Bane as he begins painting his face. You and Edgar kite side by side a moment.

“Shouldn’t you be decoding?” You ask pulling him out of the way of Banes hook. “You came to my cipher.” He says bluntly as he finishes his painting.

He quickly placed it down. “Since you don’t want my assistance i’ll go decode.” He feins a somber tone as he rushes off.

Finally after letting 4 ciphers pop and putting trap quite literally everywhere, Bane downed you. He picked you up angrily and slamming you down into the chair.

When he slammed down the harness carelessly, not listening as you curse at him in pain.

“Cipher Machine Primed!” Helena’s voice could heard shouting out. Edgar was sprinting towards you, narrowly missing Bane’s hook.

And when he went to pulled up on the harness it didn’t lift up as usual. “It’s stuck..!” He says struggling against with the harness.

Your top had gotten enclosed when Bane carelessly chaired you, with one final tug Edgar got it up. It tore your shirt, nothing inappropriate was exposed thankfully.

Before Edgar could apologize Banes hook, which usually latched onto your clothes bit into you ripping your skin.

He downed you again. The cipher quickly popped, you get back up running away. Edgar put down his final painting escaping from Bane’s view with you.

You could hear banes angry growl. crouched down beside a wall Edgar look at your bleeding wound. “I’m sorry.. if only I had been more careful, his hook wouldn’t have taken a chunk of your skin like that.” He sounded so remorseful.

“It’s not your fault, the costumes they give out aren’t great quality anyways..!” You comfort him patting his hand.

“Hey on the bright side at least you didn’t expose me in any type of way.” You joke, he laughed lightly. “If I had don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let that animal see you.” And you believed that, especially with his loving gaze.

Mike Morton

Mike begged you to watch him practice some tricks outside, you really didn't want to since the last time you had watch him practice you had been hit in the face with one of his muddy bombs.

“Please, please, please, please” He says following you around hands clasped. He’d been saying it nonstop it was starting to not sound like a real word.

You turn around hands slamming down on his shoulders. “Mike, my dear Mike.” You say with a slight twitch in your eye.

He did bother listening to your refusal. “My dearest s/o, please come see this cool trick I've been practicing!” He said with a grin.

Mike was tugging you toward an empty room, which he had the help of Marg to turn into a practice room. “Now the thing about this cool and totally awesome trick is I need a partner” He gave you a smile.

“No way, your gonna have to find someone else to do it. I don't have a flexible bone in my body” You say trying to escape.

He quickly wrapped himself around you, quite literally koala attaching himself to you. “No wait, please! I tried practicing with Marg but I thought my performance would be better if it was with my sweet, handsome, beautiful, stunning-”

“Buttering me up isn’t gonna be enough to convince me, to allow you, to throw me around.” You push against him but it was like he was glued to you.

He just whined like a child, begging you. “Fine, one trick!” Too tired to argue against him you give in. Mike lets out a cheer, untangling his limbs from you.

“You have to get into some different clothes though” He turns to grab something, before holding out a similar acrobatic spandex outfit to his own. “Look we’ll have matching costumes!”

You sigh, taking the outfit going to change into it. “I have no Idea how you wear your acrobat costume in matches, it is tight in all the wrong places”

“Well I’ve been doing acrobatics for years now so I'm used to it. Now come on I’ll walk you through it, step by step, don’t worry!” He grins hands on your waist.

He did keep to his word walking you slowly through each move. It was easy to understand, still didn’t make your body any more flexible.

When it came to do the trick in real time you had messed up and Mike's hand placement in the wrong place.

In attempt to stop you from falling on your head Mike gripped tightly onto the tight spandex material. A tear sound echoed around the room as well as the sound of you also hitting the floor.

Mike quickly covered his eyes standing frozen holding like half the costume. "I swear I didn't see anything!" He still has his hand over his eyes, and a bright red blush on his face.

You give a weak glare up at him. "I am never doing acrobatics with you again Mike." He just nods still covering his red face.

I honestly am not very happy with Mikes but I tired. This isn't proofread

[serenetoru]

cw: fem!reader, maternal death, unintentional manipulation(?), just ANGST💔

just imagine.

you and Satoru has been inlove for the longest time, completing eachother like yin and yang. He was your highschool sweetheart and you two loved eachother so dearly. The two of you got married a few years later, everything was going fine mostly. You two has a very demanding job as sorcerers but something has been going on through Satoru’s mind lately and that is to have a child with you.

One night he asked you if you wanted to build a family with him, he had a big and happy smile on his face but all of that changed when you told him something that he didn’t expect for you to say. He was stunned, he doesn’t doubt your love for him ofcourse but its just the way you look so scared and rigid. It makes it seems like you dont want to have a child with him. He was heartbroken and felt betrayed just because he got denied to make your love eternal by having a child. Yes, he knows the consequences of having a child with you but he will try his best if you give him the chance.

Ever since that day he asked you constantly to atleast give it a thought but with each passing day he grew more and more agitated because of your replies.

“please love, just think about it. Having a mini you— or a mini me running around the house.. wouldn’t that be wonderful?” he pleads to you but as always you just look away and frowned. Saying that line he always hear. “Satoru, you know with our demanding jobs as sorcerers make it impossible right?” his eye twitched at those words. He out of all people understood the consequences but he was willing to pay the price. He was mad, ofocurse he was. Baring your very soul and love to the one person you love just to get shut down, he was hurt.

He became cold and nonchalant ever since that and it made you feel like a wreck. You confronted him about his lack of communication and asked him if you did anything wrong, coaxing him with a gentle touches and affection only for him to shut it down. Now you are mad. The two of you argued for the longest time, asking what was wrong with him.

“oh you wanted to know what’s wrong?” he looks at you daringly, you wanted to cry at that spot and when a tear slips down your eyes he finally snapped back. His eyes widened and came rushing to you. The two of you talked it out and you gave him the reason why you don’t want to have a child right now. He understands the reason and knows how much of a burden it was. But he was willing to carry it all, to experience your love even deeper.

once again the idea was shot down by you even when he had coaxed. “Ofcourse i understand your worries for the future and our children, but that doesn’t make me selfish from wanting to start a family with the love of my life right?” you only looked down in shame. “its not fair because i do want to have kids with you too. More than anything. But-“ Satoru's heart felt like it's twisting and churning in his chest. he wanted to believe you, he really did. He loved you so much, to the point where he would do anything for you. But still, he was hurt that you always gave him an answer he didn't want to hear. it felt like it was just one excuse after another. "but not enough to agree with me." he says quietly, his tone sounding slightly bitter.

after a lot of convincing and well, guilt tripping— you finally agreed to have children with him. He was ecstatic, giving you the best things he could ever lay his hands on. Spoiling you nonstop.

it was time for the labor and he was nervous yet also excited about it, he couldn’t wait to finally meet his son. After hours of waiting and pacing around the room like a nervous wreck he is the doctor finally came out of the room. His eyes widened as he looked and touched his son for the first time, his eyes were watery and couldn’t contain the happiness he felt. But something was wrong, incredibly wrong. The doctor looked down and handing the baby, Satoru felt like his chest was tightening from the pressure and he felt like his world just shattered when he heard the doctor said that you passed away.

he felt like he wanted to puke, his face was pale, and his ears were ringing. There was no way that you died. There just no way-

“h-how.. why..?” he managed to croak out, his voice was broken and hoarse. The love of his life was so easily ripped away from him in the matter of hours. It was just yesterday when the two of you had talked about the future you two wanted together and now you were leaving him alone and empty in this hollow life. The doctor told him that from the start you have a very weak uterus, that you could only give birth at the cost of your own life. His heart shattered at that, he couldn’t move. You had warned him from the start, all those talks and he was completely oblivious at the signs.

he had ignored everything you told him simply just because he wanted to start a family with you. He selfishly asked you and now he was left alone in his miserable life, someone he cared about was once again been taken away from him and it was all his fault. He was the one that wanted the child right? the one that continued to insist on starting a family. And he was just paying the price. The price of the love of his life. He should’ve listened from the start but it was too late now the damage has already been done and there was no way to reverse it.

-

A/N: just a quick summary of this bot that i chatted with!😋 enjoy guys👊

[sakuralovespossums]

🌹 Osamu Dazai x Wife Reader 🌹

I kinda based you and Dazai’s relationship off of Jack and Rosemary from The Walten Files, so expect lots of wholesomeness

You and Dazai met around the time he just left the Port Mafia and was trying to make a new life for himself. You had also recently fled from another shady organization and was keeping a low profile

One day while walking home from the store, you spotted a man attempting to jump off a bridge and quickly rushed over to stop him, causing you both to fall in the water

Luckily you survived but were left wet and freezing. You angrily dragged him back to your apartment and cleaned him up, yelling and scolding him the entire time while your gentle actions revealed your true kindness

Dazai was soon intrigued by your strange willingness to help a stranger like him and decided to stick around a bit to see how long he could mess with you till you grew tired of him

As time passed, he slowly realized what an angel you were and ended up falling HARD for you

I’m one of the people who believe Dazai’s ideal woman would be someone with an optimistic mindset and pure/strong morality. She would also have a unique way of looking at things that kinda sets her apart from others

Realistically, I feel like Dazai would never open up about his past/vulnerable side to anyone. He might open up a bit more around those he’s close with (Oda) but it will still take ALOT of time since you have to prove to him that he can fully trust you

Luckily you’re a pretty patient person who understands that about him. You accept that he may never tell you everything about himself or his sins and you’re fine with that. You love him for who is now and accept his flaws, which he deeply loves you for

You end up marrying shortly after his entrance exam in the ADA

You also work at the ADA as a clerk (suggested by Dazai)

You and Dazai are known as the cute couple within the agency (a lot like Junichiro and Naomi but not creepy)

Dazai already follows and clings to you like a desperate puppy wherever you go, so you can imagine just how chaotic and distracting it gets at work

He’s always ditching his paperwork to flirt with you and then try to get you to ditch with him

Kunikida seriously wonders why the president ever thought it was a good idea to let Dazai’s wife work in the same building as him

He gushes about you nonstop omg it’s so annoying

*Kicks open door* “Guess what lunch my gorgeous wife made me today?!~~”

*Angry Kunikida eye twitch*

I cannot state enough times just how much this man WORSHIPS you like your his goddess, his shining light, his angel

A lot of his acts of love are pretty dramatic and silly, but it comes from a genuine place

It’s your unwavering acceptance of him and his ugliness that really made him wanna spend the rest of his life with you

He never takes off his wedding ring

You do a lot of stuff together (eating, bathing, napping, errands, etc)

Only thing you don’t do together is cooking and cleaning since he always almost destroys the apartment

“Osamu, you are staying on that couch until I’m done cooking this soup!” 😤

“But belladonna, how can I ever help you prepare your delicious meal?” 🥺

“By not burning the place down!!!”

Your a lot shorter than Dazai and have a plump/curvy body type (I just really like the image of lanky Dazai having a short plump wife to pick up and cuddle 💕)

Your known for you sweet and patient personality, as well as artistic worldview that intrigues your husband

Your favorite hobby is painting. It’s something that helped you get through your dark days and your so good at it that you’ve sold a few paintings to your neighbors

Of course Dazai is your no. 1 model

Sometimes he’ll also paint something for you (he doesn’t paint as much since he’s more busy) and you decide to create a small art room to hang up both of your works

Fun fact: The real life Osamu Dazai was also a painter

Your no pushover though and can get pretty scary when angry (maybe not as scary as Dazai, but still intimidating)

If anything were to happen to Dazai, you won’t hesitate to do whatever or go wherever to save him. You don’t care who you have to face or how dangerous it might be, your fetching your husband back no matter what

Because of this, he’ll concoct plans ahead of time to best keep you out of harms way

Yeah, Dazai is still his manipulative self, but does it all out of love and what he thinks is best for you, wether you agree or not

God help anyone who even tries to lay a hand on you because Dazai will NOT hold back in letting them know what happens to those who try to harm HIS wife

I don’t really see you guys having kids. Your already happy enough just having each other (and also your dangerous professions)

Dazai doesn’t like you meeting any of his former Port Mafia peers and tries to keep you away from them

Though I imagine you and Chuuya probably have met at some point. He doesn’t give you much thought until he finds out you’re that idiot’s wife and he freaks out!!

If Akutagawa found out about you, I think he would also be shocked but then grow jealous of how close you are. How the hell was a weakling like you able to easily gain Dazai-san’s trust and admiration when he couldn’t?!

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

A Princess' Guide to Interrogating a Radio Demon

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Charlie, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, interrogation (in the most playful sense). If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige.

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

This is my first fic for Hazbin Hotel, so any feedback would be welcomed and deeply appreciated! (also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future work - I'm quite sure this'll be FAR from my last fic for this fandom hehe)

Hope you enjoy!

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Ever since he'd discovered glam metal, Angel has been blasting it nonstop from his room.

Unfortunately, his room happens to be directly beneath Alastor's... and the insulation in the hotel's walls leaves an awful lot to be desired. The Radio Demon's eye had been in a constant twitch for three days by the time he'd finally had enough.

"Alastor? Have you seen Angel's speakers?"

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When Charlie appears in his doorway, the demon in question is sitting comfortably on his couch, sipping a mug of black coffee and reading a newspaper (though Charlie isn't sure how he acquired it - the local paper has been out of print for weeks).

"No. But I've certainly had the displeasure of hearing them."

"They've gone missing. Do you have any idea where they might be?"

"Far away, I hope."

Charlie rolls her eyes and leaves to go consult the other guests. The deer takes a long draw from his mug.

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To Alastor's slight irritation, he only enjoys a few minutes of peace before the princess' voice echoes from the hall again.

"Oooh, Al...." Charlie sings.

"What is it, my dear?" the Radio Demon sings back absently.

"Nifty says she saw you with Angel's speakers yesterday."

"Did she?" He flips a page of his newspaper.

"Look, all I need to know is where you put them."

Long pause. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Alastor."

"Whaaat?" Though his eyes haven't left the page, his grin has widened slightly. "You think I'm lying?"

"You're always lying. That's your thing."

"...Touché."

Charlie perches on the sofa beside him.

"Are you gonna tell me where it is or not?"

"Fine. I'll be completely honest with you."

She perks up.

"I would honestly die a second death before subjecting myself to one more note of that infernal garbage."

Alastor's eyes flick up from his paper for the briefest of seconds, just to watch the bubbly princess' face fall into a delightfully exasperated scowl.

"You can't steal someone's stuff just because it annoys you!"

"On the contrary. That's exactly what I did."

Charlie narrows her eyes. "Alastor. You tell me where Angel's speakers are or else."

Alastor chuckles in spite of himself - Charlie's attempts to be intimidating never fail to amuse him.

"What's so funny about that?"

"My dear, I say this with the utmost respect and admiration for your many talents: there's a reason I tend to be the one called upon to scare off demonic threats."

Charlie huffs and crosses her arms. "Just because you're creepier and... more sadistic than me, doesn't mean I don't have ways of making you talk."

"Oh?" Alastor arches a skeptical eyebrow at his paper.

"So you better watch your step, Mister."

"Hmm. You make a compelling case." He flips another page. "Maybe I should tell you where Angel's poor excuse for music is."

Charlie brightens. "Really?"

"No."

The princess deflates.

He's right, of course: even if Charlie figures out a way to make herself legitimately threatening to the Radio Demon... he's the fucking Radio Demon. She may be the Princess of Hell, but she doesn't want to have to rebuild the hotel from rubble all over again.

The two sit in impassive silence for a few minutes - Charlie glaring at Alastor, Alastor staring stubbornly at his paper - until she finally stifles a sigh and slouches against the cushions. He's enjoying this, she just knows it. Sitting there with that stupid grin. He's probably been laughing to himself all night, imagining poor Angel waking up and finding his most prized possession missing.

She finds herself wishing she could make the old deer laugh himself sick sometime, just to teach him a lesson.

...Which is a horrible thought! Charlie's eyes widen, her brow furrowing in self-disgust. She could never bring herself to hurt Alastor, even via laughter.

In fact, she quite likes his laugh - it's a little maniacal, sure, and certainly hard to truly enjoy amid the gory contexts that typically trigger it. But if she knew a way to make him laugh at something other than another person's expense, she'd probably do it all the time... it's just that the things that make him laugh also tend to make Charlie nauseous.

Once again, the princess finds herself completely baffled by her own subjects. How one could be so tickled by anything that goes on down here - the pain, the violence, the gore...

Charlie tilts her head. She may have just gotten an idea.

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If Alastor had happened to cast a quick glance down the couch, the smile creeping across Charlie's face would've been enough to give him real pause.

But since he is instead stubbornly focused on his paper, he is completely unprepared for the fingers that suddenly begin crawling oh-so-gently up his side.

To her initial disappointment, Charlie finds at least three layers of fabric dampening her touch, and aside from a subtle flinch at first contact, Alastor himself remains perfectly still.

But then a low buzz of radio static swells around them. As she probes up his ribs, she can hear a soft crinkle of paper as his grip tightens.

"Charlie..." His voice is oddly clipped.

"Mm?" Charlie takes one glance at his face, and her smile deepens - even Alastor's signature grin can't mask the effect. He's still technically staring at the paper, but his eyes have gone wide and blank. He opens his mouth to continue just as her fingers reach his armpit - and his jaw quickly clamps shut. It's clearly taking everything in him not to squirm.

"Got something to say, Al?" She starts pinching back down his ribcage.

"Mmph!" The giggles start in his chest, bubbling up and fighting to escape through clenched teeth. Soon his shoulders are shaking with the effort of holding them in.

"...Maybe about the location of a certain object?"

No response. The radio demon just curls forward a little, hiding his face in his paper.

Taking advantage of this new posture, Charlie slips her other arm around behind him, and gives a good pinch to both sides of his slender waist.

The demon straightens right back up with an audible gasp and tiny squeak of surprise (that he quickly tries to cover with a cough).

"Charlie! Are you s-seriously trying to-"

"Are you seriously ticklish?"

"No!"

In response she delivers another series of pinches to the same spot. His posture crumples again, until finally he loses his grip on his paper and twists to face her.

"No?" she giggles. And squeezes him again.

"Stop that!" He fumbles at her fingers, trying to pry them off his sides.

Instead Charlie swaps her hands, wrapping her fingers around his waist with both thumbs resting lightly on his stomach... and begins digging them right under his lower ribs.

That finally does it. He flinches back with a little snort, followed by soft but utterly helpless giggles pressed shyly into his hands.

"Awww!" Charlie coos.

"Keheh- f-fuckin'- heheh! - quiet!" His voice cracks amusingly on the last word.

There are about fifteen different things Charlie is dying to say as Alastor goes to pieces with laughter, but she can't think of anything that wouldn't risk embarrassing the poor guy - and humiliating him is the last thing she wants to do. The fact that Alastor hasn't instantly dissolved into shadows (or cursed her across the room) hasn't been lost on the princess; she is NOT about to jeopardize this moment by making him uncomfortable enough to do so.

That said, she is conducting an interrogation here.

"What was that about not being ticklish?"

His clutching at her wrists becomes more frantic. "Don't-!"

Alastor hyperventilates a couple times, trying to get ahold of himself - but then she continues squeezing down the sides of his belly, and he can only collapse into even worse laughter.

"I think I know just how to get you to talk..."

"Nohoho- ahagh, Charlie! Shihihit!"

Charlie shifts onto her knees for better leverage, gives him a gentle push backward, and pins him (surprisingly easily) against the couch. Her snaggle-toothed grin looms over him...

For a split-second, Alastor gets a flash of what his victims must've seen moments before they debuted on his show.

But he's pretty sure this isn't quite how they felt about it. He's already shaking with anticipatory giggles, grinning back at her wider than ever. And the giddy panic behind his eyes quickly forms an unlikely union with defiance.

"Do your worst, my dear."

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To be continued... pt. II is already in the works, so stay tuned!!

Until next time - hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💕

💜 - Cozy