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ruinix · 3 days ago

Note

Thinking about Quinn losing his shit after you surprise him with a tattoo of his number on your hip

Hello, lovely�� I tried, of course. Let me preface this, let’s imagine the tattoo healed for exactly 2 weeks (google says: the minimum healing time of the (surface) skin is about 2-4 weeks, deeper layers heal for approx. 3-4 months)...so yes. What i wanna say is: Be safe. Hope you enjoy 😌

Breakfast & Tattoos

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Unprotected sex (use protection, silly), Tattoo healing inaccuracy (let it heal pls), Quinn being a literal Horny one

Count: 3544 words | Masterlist

You have that grin. A silly and mischievous grin. Quinn cautiously takes a sip of tea you brewed for him—you might’ve put something in it—but it’s just tea.

He greets you, receiving an immediate response. The grin never wavers even as he cooks you two breakfast. You’re…suspicious. Pretty with your comfy pajama shorts and—his—hoodie but suspicious.

He tries to let you be. Maybe you’ll drop it. Maybe you’ll just outright tease him for his bedhead, because his waves are all over the place from sleeping like dead after a two-week road trip. Maybe you just want to tell him something silly. Maybe. You always tend to do those things. He likes that.

He wants to ask, but you move to the sofa with your iPad, humming a tune. You’re on your back with your legs up an arm rest, feet covered with fluffy socks with strawberries. Still, you throw glances at him, grinning whenever he meets your gaze. He hears the upbeat sound of a game. You definitely found another game. That must be it. You love your games especially on that specific iPad—that was his, now yours—with those stickers of him.

Stickers. They’re cute, but he can’t help the blush on his face whenever he sees them. You’ve never stopped buying stickers from Etsy or from artists on different social media. Of him. It doesn’t matter if it’s memes or little cute cartoons. It’s just him. He knows your little hoarding box where you put your spares which also got their own spares—spare of a spare, you describe them.

It’s adorable but the way he looks so haunted in some of them... He can’t help it. It’s his face.

It’s funny and a bit embarrassing—in a good way

But he never feels bad about it. Not when you cherish every sticker. Not when you are so giddy and filled with excitement every time you buy one. Not when he catches you just gazing at them before hugging it so tightly.

Quinn has to turn away. His cheeks are burning. You make him feel good even through cute little stickers.

Sighing, Quinn finishes up with breakfast. He takes the plates to the coffee table, jumping when you suddenly sit up. You give him a fat smooch on the cheek before you mutter about getting him more tea and your coffee. But, fuck, his cheek burns from your touch. The kiss is soft and quick, but it seeps down to his bones, down to his… It’s way too early to be horny.

Quinn shakes his head, trying his best to clear it. However, he catches your shorts glide up your thighs when you bend over to get something from the lower cabinets. Oh, he’s fucked. It’s not helping how he notices your lace panties imprinting through your shorts.

Somebody, help him.

He looks away, counting down from ten to one, up from one to ten. He’s hard. It’s fucking eight in the morning. What the fuck is wrong with him? He closes his eyes for a second, thinking about hockey, practice, and literally anything else. He fails. His mind keeps showing him the image your ass, grinding against him as he fucked you—

“I think I want some orange juice right now,” he forces out, planting one foot up to hide his erection. He needs something to cool him down.

“mm’kay!” Your sweet voice just made him painfully harder.

“Thanks,” he coughs out. “Maybe a couple of ice?”

“Anything for my Quinny,” you say in a singsong voice, then you start humming a tune, moving your hips with it.

Fuck.

Quinn might need to lock himself in the bathroom at this point. You’re not letting him catch a break. How can he not get turned on after not having his fill of you for two weeks? He can see the jiggle of your ass. He can see your pebbled nipples through your thin and cropped shirt, because you just got rid of your hoodie. Why did you get rid of it? The air conditioning is literally on.

Thank fuck he’s wearing his boxer and his black sweatpants. There would be a dark patch there, because he’s leaking pre-cum. He might even come right there if you don’t stop—

“You want the one with pulp?” you ask, weight in one leg, while holding two orange juice cartons.

“Any,” he barely says, catching a glimpse of something peeking out the waistband of your shorts—what exactly is it, he doesn’t know—but you quickly turn away, bending over again which distracts him. “You slept good when I wasn’t here?” Quin pathetically asks, trying to shake away his hard-on away by pure will—it’s not working.

“Yep,” you gleefully say, finally finishing your instant coffee.

Quinn makes a mental note to make your usual brewed coffee later. He can’t just let you with a cup of instant coffee throughout the day. That’s not okay. His sweet girl deserves the best after all.

Well, after he cools the fuck down.

He settles on the floor, snatching the fleece blanket from the couch to cover himself. He swallows a groan when you slide into the same blanket, leaning against him. Your heat only seeps down his cock more than his shoulder. You are killing him.

He stiffly drinks his juice, shuddering when you kiss his cheek again. He almost doesn’t kiss your cheek too, because he’s a hair away from losing control. But he still does. He gives your cheek a peck. He wishes to kiss you deeper, bend you over the coffee table and just fuck you. He knows you’ll agree if he asks. He knows you’ll let him have his way with you.

He knows.

But he hears your tummy rumble.

He can’t fuck you when you’re hungry. You’ll need energy. Besides, it’s fucking 8AM. He’s so close to punching himself as a reprimand. No one should be this horny this early. That sounds hypocritic, because he remembers several times where he waited for you to wake up so he could fuck you sideways, kissing you through your just-woken-up haze.

Someone needs to bash his head until he gets amnesia.

He’s digging himself a deeper grave. Seriously.

Quinn focuses on breakfast. He loves breakfast with you. He loves it when your weight is partially on him. When you take sips of your coffee, urging him to drink his own beverage. When you talk about what you’ll be doing for work or for your day offs. When you snatch some of his eggs and replace with potatoes or the other way around, because wanting more of one depends on the day. Today, you are doing the latter. All while, you grin at him with so many things brewing in your eyes.

He finally says, when you two are almost done with breakfast, “Okay, you are acting suspicious.” He narrows his eyes just a tad. “What are you planning?”

You turn and hug him from his side.

Quinn expertly holds you without you getting on his cock. It’s so hard. Especially when you shimmy to get more comfortable over his thigh. He almost starts pleading for you to move and get off him, because you’re so near.

“I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise? He blinks, repeating the word over and over in his head. For him? You have a surprise for him? Excitement courses through his body, temporarily distracting him from his aching member. He likes your gifts. He feels special whenever you give him something. It doesn’t matter what it is. Cookies, shirts, chocolates, a piece of candy. Even if it’s a kiss. Especially if it is. Speaking of a kiss, he wants to kiss you right now.

And he’s back to being a horny fucker.

He can’t help it. Your lips look so delicious, so damn kissable. When you run your tongue over your lower lip, biting it after, he’s done. He kisses you. Languidly. Unhurried in any way. The best thing about kissing you is you kissing back with the same intensity. When he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding past your lips, you are ready for him. You taste like your coffee and it’s perfect.

He missed this while he was away. He doesn’t know how he survived last night with a simple kiss to your forehead. He’s a fucking idiot. He missed out. Not that kissing your forehead is less than your kiss. No. Never. Just kissing your skin makes his heart ache. Just feeling your warmth is enough.

However, kissing your lips while breathing in your exhales, your moans, and your groans, that’s one way to live. If only he can exist with your air. If he can only kiss you every second of his life. If only.

When he parts from you, he feels your chasing lips as his. You two want so much more than a kiss. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Still, he must know what your surprise is. He needs it.

“A surprise, huh?” he murmurs, getting distracted by the flush on your cheeks. Wow. Just…wow. “Surprise for what?”

“I don’t need a reason to surprise my boyfriend.” Your nose scrunches, clearly and teasingly dissatisfied with his stupid question.

He can’t help but grab your cheeks, chuckling when you pout for good measure. When he caresses his thumbs over your skin, it makes you relax further into him. Your lips are red from the kiss. So plump. So wet from each other’s saliva. If he kisses you again, right now, he might end up just coming in his pants. Later. In a bit.

He coaxes, “What is it?”

You’ve hypnotized him when you drag your nail over his jaw and kiss along it. He can only cling to your waist. A whine left his lips when you let go. Where the fuck are you going? You can’t just leave him—

“Close your eyes,” you say, putting a halt to his thoughts. There’s that devilish gleam again, yet you add, “Please?”

You don’t need to say please. Quinn closes his eyes, immediately hearing the clatter of dishes and mugs being taken away. His hands curl into fists, turning irritated. You don’t need to clean up for him. He can do it, but he keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to betray your wishes. You are surprising him. He’ll be an idiot if he tries to sour the mood. But he dislikes it. If you’re going to do the dishes, he’ll do it with you. He doesn’t like not doing things with you, especially when it’s the regular season. He’s always away. It’s exhausting but you make it better.

One moment he’s horny. The next he’s acting pathetic.

“You’re overthinking, Quinn.” Your gentle voice hums, easing his troubled soul.

He feels and hears you sit down in front of him. On the coffee table. He fucking shivers when your feet brush the outside of his thighs. No blanket can mask your warmth, your touch. He can feel your eyes running all over him. His face. His neck. His hair. His chest. His cock. He really, really, really might fucking come.

He can hear your shaky inhale. You finally notice. Your voice turns higher, “Come closer.”

He does it. It’s more of moving the low table rather than scooting closer. Oh, the tiny squeak that you let out is adorable. You always forget that he’s strong. You’ve admitted that to him, that he looks small on ice, that he’s cute. He couldn’t blame you. He is just 5-foot-10 around people who are 6-feet and taller. You told him he looked like he wouldn’t be able to lift you. So, Quinn learned to remind you that he can lift you and more.

Now, his mind pesters with image of you against the wall, legs around his waist while he fucks you hard. That’s his favorite way to prove it—Can he fucking stop? Seriously?

He feels your touch over his shoulders, thumb rubbing into his muscles, up his neck, up his jaw. Soon, you have your forehead against his. Quinn’s trying to feel the table any clues about your surprise. So far, he hasn’t found any. He’s so curious. Just what is it?

“Open your eyes for me, handsome.”

Quinn does. He instantly gets mesmerized by your eyes, the eyelashes delicately framing them, your blinks. You’re just beautiful. He won’t have any complaints if this is your surprise. A simple eye-to-eye contact minute with you. Now that’s an amazing gift. Because now, he sees the details of your eyes—the darker and lighter specks of your color and the impossibly wide pupils.

“I love it,” he says with satisfaction.

You laugh, blushing so hard. “You’re silly.” You kiss the tip of his nose, taking his hands to plant it around your waist. “Look down…”

Again, he does. He gazes at every inch of you like he hasn’t. He can’t help but feel your breasts, thumb swirling over your nipples that were begging to be seen and touched and freed from your shirt. After hearing you moan and making your back arch into his touch, he moves on, smirking when you grumble about your need. Later.

He teases your skin, your navel. He’s so lost seeing how you tremble, hips slightly moving and trying to create friction. He bet you’re soaking through your pretty panties—

Quinn stills the moment he catches something on your skin. On your hipbone. What the fuck. What the fuck is that?

His heart hammers against his chest as he hooks a thumb into your shorts and tugs down.

Holy shit.

No matter how much he blinks it doesn’t change.

A tattoo. A fucking tattoo on your left hip.

‘QH43’, it says.

Quinn is literally felt his stomach flutter with fucking butterflies, thumb subbing over it, trying to see if it’s temporary, but it doesn’t have a shine nor does it crack.

He should be worried. It must’ve fucking hurt. It’s over a bone. He should shake you and ask if you got caught up in a dare. He should be livid you kept this from him. Tattoos are big decisions. You always confide in him for big decisions. You didn’t have this when he left for the road trip. It looks healed. He should’ve been with you and helped you take care of it. Damn it.

Yet, the more he looks at it, the more desire courses through his veins. It melts his worries.

It’s just ink in your skin. Ink in your blood. His fucking initials and numbers on you. Permanently. Forever.

QH43. Just four characters in a normal script. So simple yet it’s enough to get him all shaken up.

“Why?” He asks, taking a hand into his cock. He looks up to your eyes, except you aren’t looking at him. You’re staring at what he’s doing with a blush on your face like you haven’t seen him jerk off, haven’t seen his dick in your pussy. You’re cute.

“Because I want it.”

“It’s bad to have your boyfriend’s name tattooed on your person.” Quinn wants to smack himself for saying that, because he likes it.

“Good thing it’s his number.” You crossed your arms, smirking and unfazed. “Besides, my boyfriend will never leave me. He promised me all the time.”

“Yes. I will never leave you.” He nods, moaning when you put a hand over his cheek. “’m so turned on.”

“I can see that.” Your nails scratch over his jaw again.

He’s losing it. “Did it hurt?”

“It stung but not too much. Want help?”

Quinn shakes his head. He needs an initial relief. His hand will do. For now. He can’t help but preen as you snatch away the blanket. Sweat starts to bead on his skin as he nudges his pants down, tightly gripping and working his cock. Fuck.

“Wanna cum on it?” You ask, your voice shaking as you pant. You lean back, planting your hands on the table, spreading your thighs wide, showing him the wet patch over your thin shorts. You’re evil for that.

Quinn doesn’t know he can get any harder, but he does. Especially when he can basically smell you, taste you through it. He missed this so much. An ache forms in his chest for missing out, for not being with you.

“Is that safe?” Quinn moans, swiping a thumb over his slit, shivering as his pre-cum dribbles down his length. Totally forgetting how he was rubbing it a minute ago, he gasps, “Don’t want it to hurt.”

“It’s healed,” you reassure. “Ugh, I hate my panties. They’re so wet.”

See, you’re really complaining. The annoyance is clear on your face, but it’s cute as fuck. You shimmy your shorts and panties down, shivering when your arousal creates a string from the lace to your pussy. You still sit at the table, waiting for him to come on you.

“You’re killing me, my Love.” Quinn crawls up to his knees. “All wet for me?”

“Yeah.” Then you slide one hand over your pussy, parting it for him, making him see you quivering hole. “You really like my tattoo?”

Quinn can only nod. There’s a lump in his throat. He’s panting as he chases his relief. The way your pussy drip is getting to his head. Fuck, why is he still jerking off when your pussy is right there? He scoots closer, sliding his cock along your pussy. Both of you groan. You feel so good and he’s not even inside.

“Quinn,” you gulp, hands coming up his shoulder. “Maybe. You can jerk off later? I’m right here. I need you, handsome.”

He feels your pain and he feels the same. He presses his dick in your entrance. He warns, “I’m going to come soon.”

“Yes, please.”

Something snaps.

It’s his control.

You really know how to make him lose it. Those two fucking words. It might as well be a prophecy. He will listen and make it happen rather than wait for it to come true.

One smooth movement, he’s inside. His eyes nearly roll up as your pussy squeezes around him, seemingly determined to milk his cum out. By some miracle, he doesn’t come right away. He doesn’t it matters he did. He fucks you with urgency.

You feel divine. Your pussy. Your heated skin. Your arms that slot over his shoulders, urging him to fuck you faster. Your long nails dragging red stripes down his nape and back. Pain and pleasure sears down his soul.

“Quinn,” you call, tugging at his hair.

He moans your name like a prayer just for you. For his Love eternal. Fuck, he deeply loves you so much that it. More than anything in this world. You are the light of his life. Light, not a flame that would burn him. A light makes everything clear and visible. He’ll never get lost with you by his side. Lost in you, now, that’s a different topic.

He catches sight of a sweat dripping down from your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, to your collarbones. He’s there, licking it up from its destination and up your jaw. Fuck, your taste—the saltiness, your scent on his tongue—is alluring.

Your moans mix with his, drowning out the buzz of the air-conditioning, the slight creaking of the coffee table, the ringing of his fucking phone. Who the fuck is calling him this early in the morning? It doesn’t matter. Not important right now. No.

Your hands cling to his arms, nails digging deep crescents into his skin. When his thumb circles your clit, he feels your pussy walls contract and pulse, making him come deep inside you. One spurt. Two. Three. Then he pulls out, so he spills right over your tattoo. You both pant, watching his cum make a mess on your skin, watching the cum dripping down your used pussy.

Your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing him fucking dry, making sure every drop is on your skin, your hips, and your thighs. He can’t help but gasp, forehead resting against yours.

He can’t believe he got you to come before him when he was so close to the edge.

So happy that you did.

So fucking ecstatic that he starts rubbing his cum into your skin, swiping its thickness into your damn tattoo, making sure it’s thoroughly coated. This is what you wanted. He also fucking wants it. His other hand travels to your pussy to push his cum back in. Your thighs quiver, shaking. Your moans and whines are loud and clear in his ears.

Fuck, he’s still so hard.

And you know it. How can you not? You’re holding him. It’s so evident that he’s ready for more.

You meet his eyes as you pant. Your lips are so red from being bitten. Quinn reaches up, taking his pushing his thumb slicked with his cum in your lips. When you immediately lick and suck on it, he can’t stop himself from grinding on your pussy. You’re just as greedy as him.

He loves that and he needs to fuck you again.

“Another?” he pleads.

“Yes,” you murmur, kissing his thumb. “Please.”

You don’t need to say anything else.

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st7rnioioss · 3 days ago

Text

𓂅 ♥︎ INEXPERIENCED!READER COCKWARMING BSF!CHRIS FOR THE FIRST TIME

⋆ ˚ .ೃ ࿔ * pairing... inexperienced!reader x bsf!chris

𓂃 ֹ ᮫ in which... inexperienced!reader cockwarms bsf!chris for the first time, but she gets impatient.

warnings... smut, cockwarming, pet names, swearing, no actual sex, fingering (? (chris is dj'ing))

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟ your arms are looped tightly around the nape of chris’s neck, your face nuzzled into his chest while you bite harshly down on your lip to conceal any whines that threaten to slip.

chris’s cock is nestled deep inside of you, your soppy walls fluttering around him with every second that passes, mewling into his chest as you try your best to stay still and calm your racing mind. “c-chris, i— i can’t do it.. mmpphh, can’t concentrate,” you whine, attempting to swirl your hips, but his fingers has a firm grip on you.

he was so, so close to you, feeling every ridge and vein of his dick buried and sheathed so deeply inside of you, you were sure you could feel him in your stomach if you really tried. the thrill of it all made your mind go numb, eager and desperate for him to do something about it.

“come on, baby.. we just barely started, y’can do it.. i know you can.” he cooed, lifting a hand from your hip to brush a couple strands of hair out of your face, watching your expression twisted up in pleasure—you were going completely dumb on his cock, and he hadn’t even started fucking you yet. it was pathetically adorable.

chris could feel the way you were squeezing and clenching around him, your arousal soaking him—every squirm of your hip made his tip kiss at your cervix, another whimper falling from your lips. “n-no, please.. just move, please!”.

he tutted, continuing to rake his fingers through your hair, now allowing you to shift as much as you desired—but he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted, you’d have to wait a little.

“shhh, just a little bit more, baby.. y’look so pretty on top of me like this,” he gently pressed a couple light kisses down your throat, before he sucked a light-red mark into your skin.

your head was a complete mess, the only thing that was running through your mind being the delicious stretch of his cock, the way he filled you to the absolute brim, leaving no room, sucking deep marks, that’d for sure turn purple later, into your skin.

eventually he pulled back, listening to your pleads and mewls for him to start moving or literally do anything—you were pulsing around him, your sweet cunt starting to throb around his broad dick. “lift your hips for me, sweetie,” he poked your skin, watching as you obeyed within a second, not giving it a second though.

from the angle chris could see just how well he was fitted inside of you, your tight, gushing walls stretched out around him. “such a pretty pussy.. it’s a shame you’re complaining, cause she’s tellin’ me otherwise,” he smiled smugly, before he rutted his hips forward, filling you to the hilt like before. he was being a tease, and he knew it—but it was worth it to see your pretty face scrunch up in pure bliss.

a sharp gasp left your lips when the head of his cock once again prodded at your sweet spot, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, leaving crescent shapes. “o-oh god, chris.. please, just move.. wanna feel you,” a pout is stuck on your lips as you moaned and writhed for him, opening your eyes to gaze at him.

he chuckled lightly, shaking his head while one of his hands dipped between your spread legs. “nuh uh.. not yet, bunny. your sweet pussy looks like you’re enjoying it far more than you think,” you whined and complained, but he soon cut you off when the lad of his thumb found contact with your swollen clit, firmly pressing his digit onto your bundle of nerves.

“that feel good, baby?” he proudly smirked, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your sensitive bud, his other hand resting on the back of your neck to tilt your head back a little, giving him more access to your neck and jaw.

you nod dumbly in response, any touch being enough, moan after moan being pulled from the back of your throat—the pure bliss of it all made your body give in to his completely, whining his name like a mantra. “don’t stop, please.. need it so bad chris,” you moaned between stumbled words, your face flushing in pure arousal, your body starting to grow warm.

“hmm.. think you’ve been patient enough, angel. wanna be a good girl and start moving for me?” his words were mumbled into your skin, speeding up the circles he was rubbing onto your clit.

of course, he was gonna make you work for it—he just loved seeing you beg and plead for his help, loving how easily he could bring out the naive and innocent side of you. eventually you’d grow tired anyway, begging him to take over.

more inexperienced!reader x bsf!chris here!

˚𝜗𝜚 notes... lolll i hope this doesn't suuuckk sorry i say that every time but like ummmm

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#🐇་༘࿐ works #⌗⋆. bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets fanfic

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moonstruckme · 3 days ago

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Hi lovely, how are you?? I hope you’re doing okay. First of all and most important I want to tell you how much I love your fics and your writing, they bring me so much comfort and you are truly a talent so ilysm. I wanted to ask you if you’d be up to write a poly!marauders x reader (I think request are open now but if I’m wrong dont mind this, sorry) where reader is just very overwhelmed and feels like everyone has a purpose in life (hobby, dream job etc) but reader feels like she hasn’t one, and she fears she will waste her life (if you think some of your others works are too similar then again dont worry :) ) anyway so sorry for the kinda long request (and not totally a rent, pfff…) I literally love you so much, have a great day/night🩷

Thanks for requesting angel <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sirius can always be counted on for an unquestioning cuddle. You only had to enter the sitting room and lay yourself down on his lap, and he began playing with your hair as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Remus looked up from where he was reading in the chair next to you both, but ultimately he must have decided it was common enough behavior from you not to remark upon.

It’s a nice day out. Sunny. James woke up and opened half the windows first thing, letting in the breeze and the smell of changing seasons. You were thinking earlier about finding an excuse to go lay about on some grass somewhere, but now you can’t be bothered. You turn your cheek to Sirius’ chest instead, soaking in the warmth that comes from him.

“Darling,” he says after a while.

“Yeah?”

Sirius traces his pinkie finger along your hairline. “If we’re going to mope together, you’ve got to at least tell me what we’re moping about.”

You very intentionally do not sigh. If you focus, you can feel his heart beating underneath your cheek. “We’re not moping.”

“We’re not?”

“No.”

“Oh, good.” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone. You don’t dare look over to see if Remus is paying attention. “Let’s have a smile, then?”

You’re reluctant to pick your head up, but you do, turning so Sirius can see you before stretching your lips until you feel your cheeks pushing up against your eyes.

Sirius actually laughs. It’s so fond you can’t really hold it against him.

He takes your face in his hands. “That’s good,” he says, kissing you right in the center of the stretch. “Really persuasive effort, lovely. Penny for your thoughts?”

You hesitate. “I…”

Sirius' grin fades as he realizes you’re serious. He keeps his eyes on yours, steady and encouraging.

“I feel like I don’t really do much.”

He frowns. “That’s not true.”

“How do you mean, love?” Remus asks in a more considerate tone. He is paying attention, then.

“Like…” Your face is still trapped in Sirius’ hands, but you find yourself looking away from him. “I just sort of go to work and come home, you know? I don’t have hobbies or…or aspirations or any of those things.”

“All any of us do is go to work and come home,” Sirius argues.

“No, you have other things. You have goals.”

“You have goals. You were just saying you want to start stretching and become more flexible.”

Your mouth tightens. “That’s not the same. That’s a small goal.”

Sirius lets his hand drop from your face, stroking lightly down your arm. He looks genuinely perplexed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s not the same as having a purpose.”

Your boyfriend’s eyebrows jump. “A purpose?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your upset feels like it’s solidifying the more you put it into words. “I don’t do anything. My life doesn’t have any purpose.”

“Well, hold on,” says Remus. He tents his book on the armrest of his chair, leaning forward to see you better. “That’s an awfully large leap to make.”

“It’s true,” you say, embarrassment softening your voice halfway through. Both Remus and Sirius look displeased, but they don’t contradict you. You’re sitting in an elongated beat of silence when the front door opens.

“I’ve brought juices!”

It doesn’t quite make you smile, but something in you lightens as you and your boyfriends share a look. Ever since James got a membership to this new fancy gym, he can never leave without buying one of their overpriced wares.

He’s stolen one of your headbands again. Sweaty hair pushed back from his face but flopping forward anyway as he bends to kiss Remus’ head, passing him a plastic cup of green juice.

“Who wants the one with lots of ginger?”

“I’ll take it,” you say, because you catch the face Sirius’ makes. James passes it to you. “Thanks.”

“You know, I have a guest pass.” James slumps down beside you, sipping from his own juice. “If you still want to get more flexible, we could do a yoga class together sometime.”

The ginger in your drink burns slightly as it goes down. How pathetic does it make you, that you mention one small goal to your boyfriends and suddenly that’s your whole life? How dull does it make you?

“Jamie,” says Sirius, “what would you say your purpose in life is?”

James nearly chokes on his juice. He coughs, Remus reaching over to pat him on the back. You feel culpable.

“Sorry—that’s rather a lot for the morning, isn’t it? I usually keep my existential crises to the evenings.”

Sirius grins wryly, nudging you where you sit between his legs. “Someone didn’t tell this one the rules.”

“Oh.” When James realizes that the question has come from you and not as a result of some of Sirius’ mischievousness, he becomes more contemplative. “Hm. I suppose I usually tell myself that my purpose is to be happy, is that a good answer?”

“I like that,” says Remus. He’s looking at James with a fond expression. “What about you, sweetheart, do you think that’s a good answer?”

You shy at being put back on the spot. “Yeah,” you say. “It’s sweet. That’s a good one.”

“I think it’s all we can do.” James shrugs. He’s obviously tired from the gym, sweat-damp clothes sticking to his skin, but with the light that comes in through the window shining on his face he does look like he’s fulfilling his purpose. His eyes are bright. “Try to enjoy life, I mean. Try to be happy, try to make other people happy, try to be good.” He smiles, cringing a bit at his own earnestness. “Why, what’ve you all been talking about?”

Sirius and Remus are quiet. They’re letting you take the lead. You appreciate it and wish they wouldn’t at the same time, every word you try out too heavy on your tongue.

“I’ve just been feeling like,” you say after a handful of moments, “I’m sort of wasting my life by not having some higher aspiration or something. Like, I don’t do very much, and I’m not unhappy, but I don’t want to just…never do anything with my life. I don’t know what I would do, though.”

You keep making your boyfriends frown. James’ expression isn’t quite that, but he’s not smiling either.

“I don’t think it’s fair to say you’re wasting your life,” he says. “You’re…we love you, and you love us, right? And there’s other people who you love and they love you back, too. That’s a good life purpose, isn’t it, to love? I don’t see how anything can be a waste if you have that.”

Your throat constricts. Sirius gets his arm around your middle, squeezing.

“That’s a good answer,” you admit.

James’ cheek dimples. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius gives you a very thorough cuddle after that. You pretend to be neither embarrassed nor overly needy about it, though you’re both. James attempts to do the same to Remus, who only allows it for a minute before ushering James towards the shower. You finish your juice and then Sirius’ too.

When James sees you looking contemplative again during your yoga class together the next week, he comes out of child’s pose to kiss you sweetly on your head and tell you he’s proud of you. You feel deeply loved.

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ham1lton · 1 day ago

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EVERYTHING IS EMBARRASSING ?

pairings: max verstappen x podcaster!reader

faceclaim: taylor russell

summary: you run the number one podcast on spotify, agonyauntie, and your dream guest is max verstappen. too bad for you that he hates podcasts.

or the one where your podcast is max’s guilty pleasure.

author’s note: clearing out drafts.

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liked by yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,837,892 others.

yourusername: after a month long hiatus, agonyauntie is back with bigger and better stories. i’m excited to share the newest episode with you on all of the available channels.

please tune in so my mom won’t regret letting me drop out of university to pursue airing people’s dirty laundry on the internet. thank you xoxo

view all comments

user1: WE WON WE WON HELLO!!!!!

user2: will you ever top mango man? i don’t think so.

-> yourusername: trust me user2. we will.

user3: the way during the hiatus the podcast was still #4 on the spotify chart is crazy.

-> user4: WE COMIN FOR THAT NUMBER ONE SPOT YUP!!!

user5: prettiest girl ever. you need a youtube channel so we can see that facecard.

-> user6: she said she prefers podcasting to making videos because she’s awkward asf 😭

-> user7: real omg

-> user8: she’s so me.

user9: who is this 😻

-> user10: yn yln! she’s the creator and host of agonyauntie, which she started back in university. it was originally a radio show in which people would email her their problems and she’d tell them advice. it went viral when she did the episode of ‘mango man’ (just google it, it’s hilarious) and then she moved to a podcast format so it was more accessible. it went to number one and she’s halfway through s2. it’s so good!!! honestly you need to listen to the episodes.

landonorris: SO EXCITED YESSSS 🤩

-> user11: always at the scene of the crime

-> user12: how many fandoms is this guy in? 🤨

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AGONYAUNT! season 2, episode 7.

[soft jazzy intro music fades out]

yn: okay, this next email is… wow. honestly, when i read it, i had to sit back, take a sip of tea, and whisper, “what the actual hell?” to myself. so naturally, i had to include it in the episode.

let me just read it for you.

[mock-serious tone as she reads aloud]

“hi yn, first off, i love the podcast. you’re literally the only person i trust to handle this because everyone else would either call me crazy or tell me to dump him, and honestly, neither of those options feel right (yet). anyway, here goes: i think my boyfriend is trying to become a bird.

i know that sounds like i’ve lost the plot, but please hear me out. it started small—like him watching a lot of bird documentaries and casually saying things like, ‘owls are the wolves of the sky’ (which i didn’t think about at the time because men say weird things constantly). but then he started doing… bird things. he whistles now. a lot. not cute whistling, yn. it’s more like he’s calling for backup.

then last week i caught him eating sunflower seeds—not out of a bag, but cracking them open with his teeth and spitting the shells on the carpet. the carpet, yn. he’s also been spending suspicious amounts of time sitting on the windowsill ‘for the breeze’ and called a pigeon his ‘mate’ the other day like they’re friends now??

but the final straw? he built a nest. like, an actual nest. i came home from work to find him on the couch surrounded by twigs, string, and what i think might’ve been my missing socks. he said it was ‘just a joke,’ but when i asked why there were eggs in it, he got all defensive and said i ‘wouldn’t understand.’

so now i don’t know what to do. do i confront him and risk him flying away (literally)? or do i just let him… become whatever he’s becoming? pls help me yn. i miss my normal boyfriend who used to just binge-watch love island and occasionally make me toast.

cheers, girl who might be dating a parrot.”

[pause for comedic effect]

yn: okay. wow. first of all, thank you for this email. genuinely, it’s given me a lot to think about. like, this man has gone full National Geographic, and you’re just… casually living with it? incredible. i’m so glad you came to me because i don’t think your friends would’ve taken this seriously enough, and frankly, neither will i, but we’ll do our best.

so. is your boyfriend trying to become a bird? honestly, yeah. sounds like he’s halfway there. whistling, befriending pigeons, eating seeds like he’s at a football match—this man is leaning in hard. and i have to say, the nest? iconic. horrifying, but iconic. he built an actual nest in your home. he didn’t just think about it; he did it. that’s commitment.

but here’s the thing: you have to ask yourself, are you okay with this? like, if you imagine your life five years from now and you’re still with him, is he going to be perched on top of the fridge, squawking about how you don’t appreciate him? or is this just a phase? because maybe it’s temporary. maybe he’s stressed, and this is his way of coping—some people journal, some people go bird-mode.

what i suggest is this: sit him down for a chat. calmly ask, “babe, are you going through something? or are you genuinely preparing to molt?” like, we need clarity here. and if he doubles down on the bird thing, you have a choice to make. either support him and start buying bulk birdseed, or set him free—preferably in a park, not near any major roads.

also, maybe keep your eye on those eggs. i don’t know where he got them, but i’d be concerned.

anyway, good luck with your pigeon-man. i wish you nothing but the best, and if it escalates, please email me again. i have to know what happens.

[transition music fades in]

yn: right, let’s move on before i spiral into a full TED talk about men and their inability to handle hobbies normally. honestly, this man saw blue planet one time and said, “that’s my personality now.” unbelievable.

[music fades out, next segment begins]

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by landonorris, ynsfanpage and 1,727,908 others

agonyauntie: our newest episode is out next week, here are three clues about what it will include.

(hint: the middle one is that our host will be involved. spoiler alert! 😉)

view all comments

user1: omg it’s MAX VERSTAPPEN

-> user2: who tf is that

-> user3: exactly like yn said celebrities as guests

-> user4: he’s literally famous? he’s a formula one star???

-> user3: okay congrats

-> user4: ??

-> user3: girl idk what u want me to say idgaf abt that man 😭 good for him getting the krabby patty formula one or wtvr

user5: OMG MAX AND YN…

-> user6: new ship name needed asap

-> user7: new job application needed ASAP!

user8: omg what if yn and max get together? he’s her dream guest and she seemed a little into him om the live she did watching the f1 race.

-> user9: um he’s literally gay i just googled it…

-> user10? HUH?

-> user9: his fiance is charles leclerc i just read how they met on this gossip website called ao3. very cute. it also told me more about obama’s secret lover, some guy called harry styles. you should check it out.

-> user10: u grown as hell and u can vote. the world is a scary place.

user11: AND NEXT GUEST WILL BE LANDONORRIS LETS PRAY TOGETHER 😎

-> user12: lando we know it’s you take them glasses OFF!

-> user11: 🥲 🕶🤏🥲

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author’s note: hi :) just looking for some feedback. send me an ask with what sort of fics u guys like. idk what to post. have a lot of drafts. also idk this will get a pt2. i just want it GONE! sorry <3

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weirdkidshere · 3 days ago

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I fear no one is going to get this because it is a hungarian book we had to read in... I don't even know what grade. 3rd or 4th, maybe? It's called "A Pál utcai fiúk" ("The boys of Pál Street", written 1906), and it's about a group of kids who find a big, abandoned... field? I think? in the city of Budapest, on Pál street, and make it their own, and turn it into their HQ. They become friends, or more accurately, form a club, and have strict rules to follow. If I remember correctly, (I literally haven't read this book in seven years) there is also a rival club of boys, who they are trying to sabotage. I cannot for the life of me remember the plot, but I do know there was this one kid, young and scrawny and small, who was constantly trying to prove himself. Some things happened, which led the boys to believe he betrayed them, and was a traitor - not true, of course - and as punishment, they wrote his name into their rulebook with lowercase latters, the lowest and most humiliating thing a member of the club could be punished with, and they kicked him out. (Ah yeas, I remember, his name was Nemecsek I think!)

Meanwhile, however, in an earlier adventure, Nemecsek fell into a cold lake on a winter night, already a bit down with the cold. After he was kicked out, the boys ignore him completely, and shun their friend out - so they don't realise in time that the illness got serious. Nemecsek got pneumonia, i think, which at the time was incredibly dangerous, especially for a frail little boy like him.

Needless to say, he dies, with none of his friends there, his mother bawling on his chest, still believing his only friends hate him. When the boys hear about this, they are shook, of course, and immidiately forgive him and feel completely fucking horrible, but it's too little too late. They honor him by not only rewrite his name with the correct -capital letters, but by writing it in ALL capital letters.

I bawled my eyes out. I was such a little kid at the time, and i loved reading and getting invested in stories, and this fucking broke me. I finished the book at like 1 am one evening, which at the time was very late for little me, and my brother heard me literally sobbing and had to comfort me. First encounter with MCD. I didn't even think it was real. I just kept reading, because I was like "what do you mean? Books ALWAYS have a good ending please this has to be a joke - " it was not. Fucking. Broke me.

fuck it, i'm curious. reblog and tag with the first fictional death to ever rewrite your brain chemistry and/or make you cry like a baby. mine was ares from the underland chronicles (who, for context, was a giant bat.) to this day i will weep if i think too hard about it. okay, go.

#okay so this turned into a freaking monster of a post im so sorry op #and most people probably won't even know what I'm talking about #hell *I* don't even know what I'm talking about it's been seven years since I've read the book or watched the movie #If you know this book I'm so sorry for the inaccuracies #weirdkidsramblings #a pál utcai fiúk #books #books and reading #hungarian literature #major character death can suck my metaphorical dick honestly #mcd

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heyimkana · 2 days ago

Text

Pillow Talk (1/2)

Sequel to Come Home to Me but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, fluff, smut

Summary: Your husband, Sung Jinwoo, has been trying to restrain himself from touching you in the last few weeks, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable as you're dealing with the first trimester of your pregnancy. But today, his patience is running thin. He needs to be with you, in one way or another.

Content Warnings: Teeth-rotting fluff, cute family moments, and sweet, slow, passionate sex with Husband/Papa!Jinwoo (in part 2)

Word Count: 7K

Sung Jinwoo has always loved taking on treacherous dungeon raids, especially by himself. He can gain all the experience he needs to level up, gather more magic stones to build a stronger guild, and, of course, extract more shadows to join his army. But these days, as he enters a gate with a silver wedding band wrapped around his finger, he wields his daggers with a smile solely because of one reason: so you can pamper him once he gets home.

It’s not easy, you see, pretending to get hurt and act weak and sluggish all day when you’re an S-Rank Hunter famously known to be invincible. He practically is, isn’t he? With thousands of undying soldiers beneath his feet, how could anyone imagine him getting hurt? Every raid should be light work for him, which is true. Your husband could quite literally just stand there on the sidelines with both hands buried inside his coat’s pockets, smirking to himself as he imagined all the ways you could make him feel better after a supposedly long, exhausting day inside the gate (and best believe, he’d be creative with it, maybe even a bit naughty about it).

And he did, most of the time, just occasionally yawning as he watched his generals—Beru and Igris—shred the dungeon monsters to pieces. The only thing that kept him entertained during his waiting was the thought of seeing you again, of coming home to you and being welcomed with a kiss, of holding his daughter in his arms while she babbled about her “super dangerous” trip to the nearby supermarket.

Being a married man changed him, but only for the best.

Today’s raid is no different, just as tedious and time-consuming as always.

“O most noble majesty,” Beru, the former Ant King who once massacred several S-rank Hunters in a matter of seconds, kneels before his master in a deep bow, his claws clutched against his heart, one that he dedicated solely to his king. “I bring tidings of great import. The fell beast, Guardian of the Dungeon Depths, hath been vanquished in glorious combat by mine hand, thy most true and loyal servant—”

“Speak normally, or I’ll take the TV away from you.”

“Y-yes, my liege, my apologies. I hereby inform you that I have defeated the dungeon boss as you commanded. The shadow knights are now collecting the magic stones. The ants are dealing with the remaining beasts. We shall finish this raid before the sun sets low, my king.”

“Good,” Jinwoo stretches his arms over his head, his muscles taut from all the waiting. He hasn’t done a single thing since he entered the gate—aside from daydreaming about you, that is. It’s partially your fault, really, for wearing that sultry nightgown to bed last night. You were well aware that he was still too afraid to touch you ever since you discovered that you were pregnant with his second child. He could see just how uncomfortable you were dealing with your hormonal changes and your constant morning sickness. The last thing he wanted to do was to wear your body down even further by attending to his needs. And yet, you still wore that satin lace gown to bed, driving him insane with how smoothly the fabric slid across your skin, hugging your curves in all the places he’d been itching to touch. You didn’t mean to lure him in, of course; the gown was just so comfortable to sleep in, but goddammit, he wanted you so badly he had to take a bathroom trip twice to give himself some relief.

“Great work today, Beru,” Jinwoo says. “There’s only one more thing I need you to do for me.”

“Anything, my liege.”

He looks down at him, still with his hands stuck in the pockets of his black trench coat. A smirk graces his lips with a glimmer of impishness sketched over it. “I want you to hit me in the face.”

“M-m-my liege?!” Beru’s shadowy figure was drenched in all black, but even then, it was clear that he turned pale at the request. “H-how could I, Beru, your most humble servant, do such thing to your gorgeous, most absolutely divine face, my king?”

“Don’t ever say that again,” he almost shudders from the excessive compliment before a shrug follows. “You said you’d do anything for me, right? Or was that a lie?”

“I-it is not a lie, my liege, but—”

“Should I just ask Igris instead?” He huffs loudly to the air. `“I know he wouldn’t think twice if I asked him to do something for me, especially this one. It’s a dire need, after all.”

If there was one thing that could easily agitate the ant king, it was being compared to another shadow soldier. It was endearing, really—and borderline creepy—the way Beru was so possessive over him, always wanting to be the one who could impress the Shadow Monarch the most, to be the only one worthy of standing by his side. “Even so, my liege, I am not sure if I should—”

“Hit me.” Jinwoo’s patience runs thinner than usual. Is it really because he’s so touch-starved, yearning for you, that he’s grown this irritated? “Do it as hard as you can. If you hold back, I’ll never summon you again.”

Beru cowers at the thought. “No, please, my liege, have mercy. Anything but that.”

“Then, do it.”

“B-but—”

“Igris, come here—”

“I SHALL DO IT, MY LIEGE!” ***

Being pregnant is a mix of wonderful and trying times. Your first pregnancy was the perfect evidence of that, but since you managed to go through it somehow, you thought the second time would be easier, assuming that your body had learned enough from the previous experience to withstand it this time. You hoped you could recover from your morning sickness much faster this time around, but no.

It’s not any easier. It’s ten times worse. And it fucking sucks.

You’ve been throwing up more today than the amount of hours you spent sleeping through the night. No matter how often you rinse your mouth or brush your teeth, you still feel the aftertaste of your bile coating your tongue. Everyday is a long day to get through. From doing chores and caring for your daughter—who has now turned four—you haven’t gotten much chance to rest. Your mood is all over the place. Every time your toddler throws a tantrum, you’re so tempted to imitate and throw a bigger one. It’s a childish thought, you know that, but if lying around the floor with your limbs flailing around could make you feel better, you would’ve probably done it.

Your body is weary. Your daughter is still running all over the place, making a mess out of the potpourri you just placed on the coffee table to chase away the pet odor in your home. The scent only lingers faintly in the air—Mr. Whiskers never smells terrible, all thanks to the High Orcs who take turns to wash him regularly—but ever since you have a life growing inside you, your sense of smell is heightened, and nearly everything makes you nauseous. If you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t have been bothered by the odor at all.

Right now, you’re staring blankly at the dirty plates sitting on the sink, waiting to be washed. You don’t feel like finishing your chores. You don’t feel like doing anything at all, honestly. Whenever you feel like this, there’s only one thing that can fix your mood and boost it quickly, or rather, a person, and that is—

“Jinwoo…” You sigh out his name longingly as if it were a mantra that could magically restore the life within you. You speak it like a prayer, and perhaps it is, just wishing for your husband to come home soon so he can console you like always, giving you the warmest of back hugs before he plants comforting kisses down your neck and says—

“Yes, my love?”

Your husband’s voice reverberates right beside your ear, and you jolt, shrieking in surprise as a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist from behind. Jinwoo has just appeared out of thin air—no, out of your shadow—smiling at you with one corner of his lips rising higher than the other. You can hear a peal of laughter tumbling off his lips at your reaction, his mouth brushing against the side of your neck, light and tender, with a promise of something more if he’s not careful.

“Mmm, seems like someone has been missing me all day,” he comments, visibly delighted, his husky voice vibrating right onto your sensitive skin.

You whirl around to face him, your heart still caught in your throat as you throw a playful smack on his chest. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop. doing. that?” You punctuate each word with a slap.

He chortles softly, catching your wrist with ease. Your hand appears much smaller than his, but then again, your entire body is. You're not aware of this yet, but this is one of the reasons why he’s so attracted to you. Something about you being short and tiny (compared to him, that is), your body soft and warm in his arms—it drives him crazy, shrouded him with this need to protect you, to take care of you. “Doing what?” he asks despite knowing the answer. He kisses the dip of your palm, perhaps as a token of his apology, although it doesn’t seem fairly sincere with how he’s impishly grinning at you.

“Popping out of nowhere!” You chastise with a glare. “I swear to God, Sung Jinwoo, one of these days, I’ll get a heart attack, and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

He continues to chuckle fondly at your attitude. Placing both hands on the kitchen counter, he has your body trapped in between. Jinwoo towers over you, his body caging you in, and he still smells so wonderfully pleasant, like the perfume you bought him even after going through long hours of fighting beasts in the dungeon (your gullible self never realized that your husband was just lazing around all day during the raid, doing nothing but having questionable thoughts about you). He’s dressed rather formally today, wearing the same white button-down shirt and the black trousers you’d prepared for him this morning. You wonder if his meeting with the higher-ups went well. It’s always the most tiresome part of the day for him, even way more than all the hours he spends inside the gates.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Jinwoo apologizes with a playful kiss on your forehead. “I just can’t help it. You look so cute when you’re surprised.”

You continue to glower at him.

“And even cuter when you’re angry,” he adds, his grin boyish and irritatingly charming. “Where’s my welcome home kiss?”

Oh, the audacity. “You don’t get any until you learn your lesson,” you grumble as you spin back toward the sink, switching on the water and snatching a dirty plate. “Thank goodness, I was just doing the dishes. Remember the last time you did this? When I was…” You continue with your scolding, bleating one line after another, but each word is brushed aside as Jinwoo takes in the sight of you, enthralled.

It warms his heart to see you like this, his love for you brimming in his chest simply from seeing you do something domestic in the heart of his home. Your delicate frame, your beauty showing so naturally without anything to cover your flaws—the sweet imperfections he adores. The sight of you dressed in one of his shirts, comforted by his scent, its fabric falling loose around your curves, your hair tied up in a messy bun with soft, baby hairs curled around your nape. If you had known he would come home so soon, you would’ve showered and made yourself more presentable for him, but Jinwoo loves you like this. This is the version of you that only he can see. You’re so unbelievably sexy in his eyes, and it just adds more gasoline to the scorching desire within him.

“Jinwoo, are you listening to me—ah!” An involuntary moan escapes you when he mouthes against your nape, his tongue pressing flat against your sensitive spot, your knees buckling at the sensation. He plants one kiss after another as he maps his way down to your shoulder, tugging on your collar just enough to reveal more of your skin. His kisses are no longer the featherlight ones he gave you before. They’re now laced heavily with lust, the thirst he’s been trying to constrain but failing every time. He tastes your skin, his teeth itching to sink in, disrupting your thoughts at once.

Your plate slips off your fingers before you grip tightly onto the sink, his hand slithering past the hem of your shirt, skating over your stomach and leaving fire at its trail. “Jinwoo, w-wait…”

“If you’re not gonna give me a kiss, Sweetheart,” he whispers, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “Maybe I should just steal it away.”

Before you can react, his fingers frame your jaw, forcing you to face him and claiming your lips at once. Your heart rate accelerates, his torso glued to your spine, and the second you moan into the kiss, he turns you over in his arms, his self-restraint thinning into a thread. Now fully facing him, you feel your body being pushed forward, the edge of the kitchen counter digging into your back as your husband recaptures your lips with his own, slanting them even deeper. He sighs into the kiss, pleased and relieved as if he had been on his best behavior all day and the taste of your mouth was the prize he’d been waiting for.

Taste of my mouth…?

Oh, no.

“W-wait, stop for a bit.” You place a hand on his chest, quickly ending the kiss and tossing your face to the side, embarrassed. “You shouldn’t kiss me. I taste like vomit—”

Jinwoo tugs you forward before you can end your sentence, his fingers clasping firmly against your wrist, keeping you under his control. He kisses you harder, fiercer, as if your little act of pushing him away elevated the hunger inside him. His free arm winds around your waist, guiding you closer to him until he can drown himself again in your warmth.

“Jinwoo—”

“Just one more.” He thumbs the edge of your mouth, parting your lips open for him despite you trying your best not to. A low grunt erupts from the back of his throat the second he has the chance to taste you a little bit more, his desire so insatiable that he grabs you by the back of your neck, holding your body possessively without leaving you the opportunity to escape. To him, your mouth tastes like ambrosia, and he can’t help but devour you the second he gets the chance.

“Sweet,” he moans softly against your mouth. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.”

You almost whimper in response, your hands fisting against the front of his shirt. There’s something different about him today, this sense of urgency that takes hold of him like a vice. It makes your body ache with need, too, the need to have his mouth on you, on every place he can reach and more.

Screw it. You can get angry with him some other time. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you as if you wanted to fuse your bodies into one. The sweet sounds he makes grow louder, turn a pitch higher, and when he feels your fingers tugging on the roots of his hair, he almost growls, his teeth grinding against the side of your neck.

Amidst the heavy breaths, you can hear the sound of gushing water coming from behind. Right, the tap! I haven’t turned it off. “Wait, Jin—the water—mmph—” Your husband doesn’t let you speak, doesn’t want to let another second lay to waste, not after he spent the whole day—no, the whole month—waiting to touch you like this.

It’s not until your daughter (who you both seem to have forgotten, shame on you) tugs on the edge of his coat that you break away from each other, leaving the two of you standing with your faces flushed, your hairs disheveled, and your minds reeling.

“Daddy,” she gives it another pull, her lower lip jutted out in protest. The current babysitter in charge, a High Orc with a messy braid (courtesy of your daughter) and two huge, ivory fangs protruding from the bottom of his mouth, stands gawkily behind her, feeling awkward for interrupting… whatever the hell it was that was happening between you and his master. He then notices the running water, silently turning off the tap while sending you a look.

“T-thanks,” you say to the beast, ashamed. “I was… gonna get that.”

He simply nods, and thank goodness these High Orcs can’t speak because the line, “Mm-hmm, sure,” seems to be written all over his face.

Meanwhile, your husband, the one responsible for all of this, bends forward almost immediately, scooping your daughter up in his arms. “Oh, no, Daddy forgot to say hello to his little princess, didn’t he?” She nodded in response, her cheeks all puffed out. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I got distracted for a bit, but don’t worry. You have all my attention now.”

“All of it?”

“All of it,” he promises with a smile, sweet and soft, a stark contrast to the man he was just a few seconds before. “Do you want to give Daddy a kiss?”

With a happy chirp, his daughter leaned in almost immediately, brushing her plump lips once on each of his cheeks. “Again, again,” she says, planting another kiss between his eyebrows and a peck on his nose. Both of them grin happily at each other, rubbing the tips of their noses together as her giggles fill the spaces between you. “Welcome home, Daddy.”

No matter how often he’s heard it, his heart melts just the same every time she echoes those words with her angelic voice. “Thanks, Sweetie. Hey, listen.” Still carrying his daughter in his arms, Jinwoo whirls around to have her place her attention on you. “You wanna know why I forgot to greet you today?”

“Why?”

“Because Mommy was about to cry.”

Her doe eyes widen adorably as she gasps out, “She was?”

You restrain the urge to roll your eyes as your husband continues sprouting his bullshit. “Yes, she was. You see, she missed Daddy so much todaythat she felt like crying while doing the dishes.” Now that he says it like that, you can’t help but feel abashed. That was a bit pathetic, wasn’t it? “Daddy had no choice but to go and cheer her up. Isn’t that right, Mommy?”

Your hand itches to toss him another punch. “Oh, yes, God, I was so lonely,” you mutter in your best robotic voice, sarcasm lying thickly in your voice.

“See?” Jinwoo tosses you a shameless grin, amused by your reaction. No, not just that. Happy. “Mommy could barely live without me.”

“Mm. Barely.” You land a kick to the back of his shin. Of course, that does absolutely nothing to an S-Rank Hunter like him. If anything, it only makes him want to chaff at you even harder.

Fortunately for you, your daughter doesn’t seem like she’s seen the kisses you shared with your husband—or maybe she did, but she chose not to care. “Daddy, did you get cupcakes for me?”

“No, Sweetie, I’m sorry.” Your husband gently strokes her hair, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear. “I was in a rush on my way home.”

She blinks her eyes innocently. “Why?”

“Because Daddy misses you, of course,” Jinwoo smiles warmly, affectionately, the kind of fatherly smile that you didn’t think he could display so naturally on his lips when you first started dating him. “I missed you so much, Princess. I was thinking about you all the time during the raid that I could hardly concentrate.” Well, that and how you looked in your sexy nightgown, to be exact. “I was only gone for a few hours, but I just couldn’t wait to see you again. So, the second the gate was closed, I ran straight home.”

Teleported, you grumble inwardly with a snort, even when I’ve already told him not to.

“Is that why you got a cut on your cheek? Because you were distracted?” Your daughter questions him, staggering you.

What?

You quickly turn to your husband, examining his face with your eyebrows sewn in concern. Although it’s barely visible, it’s true. There’s a cut on his cheek, a thin line of crimson on his smooth, pasty skin, like an accidental brush of a pen on paper. This kind of injury is nothing and will naturally heal within a day or two, but still, it frightens you somehow that there’s a being out there who could lay a finger on him—on someone who’s supposed to be untouchable. You were certain that he was only clearing an A-rank dungeon today. Surely, it couldn’t have been so dangerous?

“Are you okay?” You ask him softly, almost motherly, carefully holding his face as if that little cut made his body a million times more fragile. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Jinwoo bites down on his lip as your anxiety grows. Is it so bad that it’s hard for him to say? You wonder worriedly. Of course, you don't realize in the slightest that he’s only catching it between his teeth because he’s afraid that his mischievous smile will break on his lips and give his plan away. Jinwoo has been craving to be loved, touched, and spoiled endlessly by you today. With you looking this concerned, he’s already walking the path of success. He’s not going to let his little grin betray him at the last minute.

“No, nowhere else, Sweetheart,” he says with a tender smile. “Just this one on my cheek. I’m okay, though. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a cut.” Because that was all Beru could manage to do, he continues inwardly, almost releasing a disappointed sigh. Three chances. He gave that stupid ant three chances to wound his face as best as he could without putting any defense whatsoever, and this little cut on his face was all Beru could do. To be fair, knowing his immense durability and his tremendous physical strength, landing just a scratch itselfis considered a feat, but still… Had he had a bigger bruise blooming on his face, you’d take better care of him, wouldn’t you?

You breathe out in relief at his reply but continue to press further. It’s not a matter of pain; it’s the fact that there’s somebody out there who can lay a hand on him. What happens if it gets worse? What if he comes home with a wound next time instead of a cut? No, what if he doesn’t come home at all?

“Jinwoo…” You twine your fingers around his lean ones. “Did something happen in the ga—”

“IT WAS BECAUSE OF ME, MY QUEEN!” A voice suddenly bursts into your hearing, coming from a small, shadowy figure that seeps out from beneath your husband’s collar. It’s Beru, you realize, but shaped in a different form. Instead of taking his usual humanoid figure, he’s much smaller in size, a floating head with a pair of antennae, so tiny he could fit in your daughter’s palm.

“B-Beru?”

“Yes, my queen, it is I, Beru, your faithful servant,” the shadow soldier speaks. “With the deepest regret, I must confess that I have brought harm to our king’s heavenly face. To atone for my sins, I shall accept any punishment you bestow upon me, milady.”

Your frown only deepens.“Wait, I don’t understand. What happened exactly?”

The shadow seems to fidget. “H-Half an hour ago, inside the gate, my liege requested me to—”

“Beru got distracted during the fight,” Jinwoo explains casually, cutting him off so smoothly with his smile intact. “I got this cut when I tried to save him. Isn’t that right,” he turns his head slightly to the side to face the shadow, his eyes gleaming eerily like a purple moon in a pitch-black sky, his voice turning an octave lower, “Beru?”

You can hear the shadow whimper in horror before it flies back to his collar, hiding behind the fabric. Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why is Beru acting weird?”

“When is he not acting weird?” Your husband responds nonchalantly. You can’t trust him when he’s smirking like this. No matter how good he looks with it, you can’t. You shouldn’t.

“I’ll put a bandaid on it, Daddy!” Your daughter chirps before jumping away from his arms, rushing to get the first aid kit. When she returns with the box, running toward her father with her little feet, Jinwoo kneels before her. His smile, his posture, the soft look on his face—everything reminds you of the prince in your daughter’s storybook, the one she’s fallen hopelessly in love with.

No wonder she loves her daddy so much, you think fondly to yourself, your heart thawing at the sight of your daughter applying a bandaid to his cheek. She looks so serious as she does it, mustering all her brain power to ensure she covers the cut perfectly. Once she’s done, she plants a kiss over it, sweet and adorable. “There, there.” She pats his cheek. “You’re all better now.”

Jinwoo’s face radiates with joy, but the bow of his lips remains sweet and tender as always. “Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy.” She pecks his nose once before she tugs on his hand. “Now, come on! Let’s have a tea party! You can be the queen, and I’ll be the princess, and Mr. Whiskers can be the king!”

“Right now?” Jinwoo chuckles, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He has the energy to play with you all night, but having tea parties with an overexcited toddler can be quite draining indeed, especially when he has to play the role of a noblewoman—who’s married to a cat, for some reason—to keep her entertained. “Can Daddy take a shower first?”

“No! The tea will get cold if you do that!”

“All right, all right. Can I, at least, play a more masculine role this time? A prince, maybe?”

“No, we need to have a queen in the story!”

“Why can't Mommy be the queen, then?”

“Because Mommy is busy doing her chores,” you answer with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, completely ignoring the pleading look your husband is sending you. "Remember to use your girly voice, Husband.”

Jinwoo squints his eyes at you. "Is this your payback from earlier?”

You flaunt your coquettish grin. “Maybe.”

He sighs despite his little smile threatening to crawl back to his lips. "You're lucky I love you, Sweetheart.”

“Daddy, come on!” She hops on her feet, tugging him even further toward the living room. “And you too, Orky, hurry up! You’re the maid. You need to serve us some cake!”

The High Orc releases a sigh. Tossing his messy braid over his shoulder, he retrieves his apron from the counter—one that you’d sewn yourself for him as a gift for being an exceptionally patient babysitter—and follows after their steps.

To anyone else’s eyes, the sight of South Korea’s 10th S-Rank Hunter, a fluffy yet somewhat demonic cat, a brawny High Orc, and a toddler with messy pigtails having a tea party on a tiny plastic table in your living room might be too absurd to take in, but this is just an everyday scenery in your lovely home. Even so, you’ll never take this for granted. The sense of relief of being safe and sound, the happiness of being together, the warmth that spreads right to your center…. These are the things that you pray every night to last forever.

And it is something that Sung Jinwoo protects more than the universe itself. ***

A sigh slips out of you as you slide underneath the blanket, the bed’s soft and almost heaven-like the moment you lie down. It has been an exhausting day, and you still haven’t gotten to bring much food into your system. Tomorrow will be better, you convince yourself. Hopefully, all the healthy juice and vitamins you’ve consumed throughout the day could replenish the nutrients your baby needs.

The bathroom door clicks open, shining light into an otherwise dimmed room. Steams of hot water cloud the room as your husband steps out with a towel hanging over his head. He’s dressed in nothing but his black sweatpants, his body lean and toned, still glistening with water. He’s mesmerizing as always and effortlessly so. You avert your gaze away, however, as you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being ogled at and have him tease you about it all night—because he definitely will if he catches you drooling at the sight. He’s done that before, and he’s only eager to do it again.

Jinwoo exhales as he sits on the edge of the bed, sounding just as tired as you are. Little did you know that this was just an act to have you indulge him in more ways than one until his thirst for your affection was quenched.

You roll around to face him, lying on your side and making a pillow out of your arm. “Long day at work?”

“Just a little,” he answers. You notice how water droplets are still dripping from his hair, drenching his shoulders and… rolling down his… broad, muscular back…

You swallow, forcing yourself not to stare—not too much, at least—at how the muscles in his shoulder blades contort when he lifts his hand to rub the towel against his hair but damn it, it is getting very distracting. You can’t help it, really. It’s just been so long since you two have been intimate with each other, and that… session you had with him in the kitchen only made your longing for him a million times worse. “You do look more weary than usual. Did the bath help? I used the expensive bath salts for you.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, it was relaxing. We should’ve taken a bath together.”

“We wouldn’t have been relaxing if we bathed together.”

“Really?” He arches an eyebrow suggestively. “And why is that?”

Your voice reduces to a mumble when you reply, “You know why.”

His little smirk tells you that yes, he does know, but he just wants to see you grimacing from shame when you say it out loud. “Were you worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself?”

The truth was, you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to, but your husband doesn’t need to know about that. “Isn’t that exactly what happened last time?”

“Only because you didn’t ask me to behave,” he cocks his head to the side, his lips curving devilishly. “You should’ve asked me to be a good boy for you, Sweetheart. I wouldn’t have touched you if that was the case. And I always keep my promise, you know that.”

Oh, he does, all right. The same way he did during your honeymoon phase when he promised you that he wouldn't stop fucking you until the sun came out. Underestimating his stamina was the biggest mistake of your life. He had your legs trembling so badly the following day, you had to call off work.

But that’s it, isn’t it? That's exactly what you want to happen right here, right now. Jinwoo has been so considerate of your pregnancy that he decided to put a leash on himself. It’s a sweet thing for him to do, but sometimes, you just wish he’d tear it apart and set himself free. It would be nice if he could just be a little rough with you right now, not caring too much about how you feel and just focusing on what he wanted to do. But he’s not that kind of man, and that’s why you married him.

Despite his aloof, stoic demeanor and how vicious he can be during battles, he’s the most gentle lover you’ve ever been with, especially when he knows you’re not ready to deal with anything like that yet, both physically and emotionally (or so he thought). He’s truly all a woman could look for in a husband. Protective and strong. Loving. Caring. Treating you with the same amount of tenderness as he treats his own mother. But, still, a slight change wouldn’t be too bad, would it? If he could just be a little selfish in bed today, succumbing to his desire to touch you and make love to you without restraint… That would be nice, right?

“Baby, you okay?”

His deep voice startles you, dragging you out of your stupor. “Yeah, I was just, umm…” You clear your throat, heat filling your cheeks. “Your hair’s dripping. Want me to help you dry it off?”

His lips part in what seems to be surprise before he wrings them together into a smile. First mission, clear, he claims triumphantly in his head. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not.” You make your way toward him, your legs sliding against the sheets before you kneel behind him, giving his shoulders a little squeeze. “You’re my husband. It makes me happy when I get to take care of you, especially when you’ve worked so hard all day.”

“Mm. Yeah. I’ve worked so hard today.”

Oblivious to the demonic cackle he’s trying to bite down, you step down from the bed, searching for the hair dryer you stored inside the drawer. Jinwoo waits in silence, leaning back with two hands propping his weight on the sheets behind him, his legs spread wide open. His eyes roam over your body, following every curve and dip, his fingers itching to just tear your nightgown away and replace every inch of satin with the softness of his kiss and the heat of his desire.

You notice the way his hooded eyes cascade to the valley between your breasts as you walk toward him, your stomach swirling at this thrilling thought of being so physically wanted. With how he chews on his bottom lip as he gazes at you, his thoughts wandering to places they shouldn’t be, he makes you feel like you’re the prettiest woman in the world, a goddess he’s so close to touch and taste, yet the heaven forbids him for it.

“My eyes are up here, Husband.”

He lets his gaze linger for one more second before they flick back to you. “I know,” he smirks, shameless. After watching you plug your hairdryer in the nearest socket, he gestures you to come close and settle yourself between his legs, his smile welcoming—no, inviting. “Come here,” he suggests with a couple of pats on his thigh.

You know what he’s asking, and God, you want to just give in and obey whatever he commands you to, but you decide to ignore him at the last second. Sitting on his lap right now when you’re nearly consumed by this aching need to be touched is just too risky. You have to be careful if you don’t want to appear so… needy.

“Sometimes I think you’re not older than five. Look at how wet your hair is.” You reprimand him playfully as you try to shake away the excess water from his hair with his towel. You let yourself move closer to him, standing between his legs, your face hovering close enough to entice him but not enough for him to feel the sweetness of your breath caressing his skin. “Did you even use your towel? You’re still soaked and—”

Your line ends shortly in a yelp when Jinwoo easily lifts your body with one arm coiled around your waist, placing you down on one of his thighs. He lets his arm linger protectively around you, making sure to keep you safe and secure on his lap. “Comfortable, Sweetheart?” He asks with a puckish grin.

No, it’s not comfortable. It’s torturous.

See, the thing is, it’s easy for you to touch him first, to reach out and kiss him and explore his mouth until he groans and has no choice but to take you. But the last time you approached him first, the last time you were so clingy, and needy, and just desperate for his touch, it boosted his ego so much that he ended up smirking every time he saw you. For the whole fucking week, that is. He didn’t even say anything when you asked him with a suspicious glare, “Why do you keep smirking at me like that?” He’d just shrug and continue to smirk even more, and it annoyed you—flustered you—terribly because the words, “Nothing, I just keep remembering how cute you looked when you were begging me the other day,” were painted vividly all over his face. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction again. Never.

If he wants to make love to you tonight, if he wants to even touch you for a bit, he’s going to have to ask for it.

But when he looks this fucking handsome with his mysterious, sapphire-like eyes, his hair wet and pushed back by your hand, his lips slightly parted as if he was waiting for yours to close the space between them… It takes you everything not to fall in his arms.

Despite all these thoughts gyrating in your head, screaming to be turned into actions, you keep yourself composed on the outside; your stare remains flat. “Do I really have to dry your hair like this? While sitting on your thigh?”

“What, I just don’t want my pregnant wife to get tired from standing too long,” he argues, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “It makes me happy when I get to take care of my wife, too, you know.” His eyes droop a little as he says the line, and fuck, fuck, he definitely just stole a glance at your lips there.

This little devil. “I know you didn’t use your towel. You’ve been plotting this whole thing right from the start.”

“Plotting is such a dramatic word,” Jinwoo replies, followed by a small laughter. “I just want my wife to spoil me for a bit.” He places a hand on your leg, his thumb rubbing against your inner thigh. It brushes against the hem of your gown as he purrs, “Is that so wrong, Sweetheart?” You watch his digit slip underneath the fabric, never going further up, aiming just to tease. “For your husband to ask his wife for some love?”

Even just that already causes you to swallow your breath. “I think I’ve loved you enough today.”

“Hmm, I don't know.” He leans close to your ear, his warm, minty breath swaying your soft strands with each word spoken. “I’m a bit greedy, after all. I might need you to pamper me all night long.”

Your head swirls under temptation but you keep yourself strong. You return the safe distance between you, placing a hand on his… bare chest. God, he needs to put on some shirt. “You could’ve just asked me to dry your hair instead of drenching the sheets.”

His little smile, the way he’s tilting his head slightly to the side, staring at you with his eyes turning all soft, lost in your own… Curse you, Sung Jinwoo. “You’re right, sorry.” He’s not sorry. He’s already planning to drench the sheets in one way or another, you can tell, and you’re excited about it. Though it won’t take long for that excitement to turn into frustration with the way he keeps touching you but not actually touching you.

Why won’t he just do it? Why won’t he just say that he misses me as much as I miss him, wants me—no, needs me as much as I need him? It would’ve saved us a lot of time if he could just kiss me right now.

What you don’t know is that, from his side, your husband isn’t really seeking a chance to make love to you tonight. He wants to—God, only heaven knows just how much he wants to devour you right now—but he won’t force you to do something so physically straining when you already look so weary. Still, he needs to touch you today, to explore you, to taste you, or otherwise, he’ll just lose his mind. He doesn’t even care if he gets no relief himself. He just needs to be with you in that way, but being the little shit that he is, he wants to tease you about it. After all, what makes your sex life so fun and adventurous is this little game you always play, seeing who’s going to yield to their desire first, and start begging the other for mercy.

So far, Jinwoo is winning, but that doesn’t mean you can’t turn the tides. “Come on. Let’s dry your hair.”

“Mm.” Jinwoo lowers his head (yes, even when you’re sitting on his thigh; he’s still taller than you), cutely nuzzling his face against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “I’ll be in your care, Noona.”

N-Noona?! Your face catches on fire. Turning the tides has never been so difficult. It’s been years since he last called you that way that you’ve forgotten just how easily he could make your heartbeat soar with merely a single word. You’re only a year older than him, which is not a big deal, but he surely takes it to his advantage—an effective way to cause your stomach to flip with every call.

“Hmm? What’s wrong, Noona?”

Stay calm, stay calm. “Nothing.” Exhaling a bit too harshly, you switch on your hairdryer and draw it closer to his hair, your fingers carding through the locks, sometimes ruffling them. He smiles to himself, looking all pleased and giddy—well, as giddy as someone as cool as Sung Jinwoo could be. Seeing how he leans further into your touch, silently pleading for another touch the same way a little boy would ask for praise, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at the sight. How can a 190cm tall, muscular S-Rank Hunter—the Lord of the Undead himself—be so adorable?

“You’re like a dog,” you comment with a hint of mirth in your voice, “wanting to be petted.”

Jinwoo responds by playfully trying to bite your hand, clamping his teeth together, his pointy fangs bared. And you wish he had. You wish he’d sink his teeth into your skin, leaving marks on you again after so long. He always does that in bed, doesn’t he? Leaving love bites all over your neck, his teeth grinding against your shoulder as he drove himself in and out of you. It was as if he wanted to remind you again and again that you were his, only his, to give himself the satisfaction of knowing that he was the only man who you’d allow to do whatever he wanted with your body.

And when he gets rough… When he turns feral in bed because you just rile him up so much… When he flips you over to your stomach, one hand binding both of your wrists together before he presses his weight onto you—

“You’re stopping again,” Jinwoo says with a coy smile. “What are you thinking about, Sweetheart?”

You, fucking me from behind. “N-nothing.” You work your hand; your movement’s no longer as poised.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he simpers.

“Oh, shut up. I’m just thinking about…” Think quickly, think quickly, think quickly. “Your hair.”

"What about it?”

“It’s just… really soft. Surprisingly soft.” It amazes you how you manage to keep yourself composed with those filthy thoughts raging like a storm in your head. You continue to ruffle his hair, shaking the water away. “Fluffy, even.”

“You say that as if you’d never touched my hair before,” he titters softly. His eyes then flick back to yours, the blue in them sketched thickly with the desire he’s been trying to rein in. “When you’ve done so much more than that.”

You don’t know what drives you to do it—perhaps it’s some kind of reflex as the sultry nights you’d spent with his head trapped between your legs comes to your recollection—but you yank on his strands, and he lets out this low, deep groan from the back of his throat, his gaze turning dark and heavy when he warns, “Careful, Sweetheart.”

He’s not reminding you to be gentle, not at all. He’s warning you not to push his buttons more than you already do. He’s already suffering as it is, trying to hold himself back from having his way with you, and you tugging on his roots like this, reminding him of all those times when you were pleading for him to thrust his tongue deep inside your core, is not helping.

“Then, don’t make it weird,” you reciprocate with a little pinch on his nose. After combing your fingers through his hair one last time, you switch off the hairdryer. “Done. You’re all dry now.” You return to your feet, itching to get away from him before you’re swallowed by the urge to yank his hair back again and latch your mouth against his throat. “Let me tidy this up first and—”

Your sentence ends in a short gasp when his arms tangle around your waist once more, and the next time you blink, you find yourself pinned down to the bed, his knee placed just between your thighs, dangerously close to your core. His face hovers just above yours, his lips twitching into a smirk as he gazes down at you with a hint of naughtiness in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in until the tips of your noses are mere millimeters away from brushing against each other. “Making my favorite food for dinner. Preparing my bath and drying my hair. You’ve been so good to me today.” With your chin trapped between lean fingers, he angles your head to the side, his breath fanning the skin below your ear. “I think my sweet girl deserves a little reward.” His voice is beyond seductive, awakening all the butterflies inside you. “Tell me what you want, baby. Let me take care of you this time.”

You grip the sheets underneath you, your heart thumping in anticipation. “I can ask for... anything?”

He chuckles, the sound low and tantalizing, his nose probing against the pulsating vein on your neck. “Anything.”

You swallow thickly, a thousand different wishes bursting into your head at once.

“T-then… I want you to…” ***

To be continued to part 2

#sung jinwoo #sung jin woo #solo leveling #jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jin woo x reader #jinwoo smut #jinwoo fluff #jinwoo #solo leveling smut #sung jinwoo smut #solo leveling fics #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo x y/n #kana.fics #fics.pillowtalk

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vee-thebee · 2 days ago

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okay anyway. alchemy. alchemy is the big thing in tmagp. balance is huge in alchemy. it is literally the basis of almost everything in it. tria prima--balance the three primes and you can do anything from turning lead into gold to raising the fucking dead.

the oiar is trying to keep everything in balance for the good of the people. lena herself says that in 13. to keep everything going and in check, the "opposing forces" need to be monitored and balanced. they manage the externals and monitor potential externals cases to make sure things are within a reasonable margin of chaos, maybe? that's why they give them specific assignments. bonzo and mowbray and possibly ink5oul if they'd said yes. you can still do all these things to 'feed' (lady mowbray declining refreshments because she'd recently eaten right after we hear a casement about her) but we're gonna tell you who to feed on because we need to monitor it and keep it balanced.

the magnus institute in this universe was heavily focused on alchemy. sam's whole thing that he saw at the institute where that dude just,,, shed his skin after fucking up some kind of experiment, over a person that was "naked and pale and still". maybe dr welling was trying to bring that person back to life?

when isaac newton got a little too crazy with alchemy, a couple of roberts said "hey, we need to Protocol this dude". it disturbed the "precarious equilibrium". threw something off balance. balance balance balance. throwing something off balance means enacting the protocol.

they talk about the great plague of london, enacting the protocol against the entire city. the great fire of london was in 1666, which is also when the great plague is said to have ended. isaac newton's lab caught fire, allegedly after his dog knocked a candle over. ironically in this context, the dog's name was diamond.

the magnus institute burned down.

i don't actually think a "magnus protocol" exists. i don't think there's a specific protocol named after the institute. i think it's a misnomer, we're thinking of it wrong. after all, the protocol is being referenced as existing as far back as the 1660's, but jonah's notes were dated 1845.

i think the Magnus Protocol is in reference to an incident. the enacting of The Protocol against the Magnus Institute. and i think the reason that any cases or information regarding "the magnus protocol" are blocked is because the OIAR is connected to the protocol being put into motion against the Institute and they don't want anyone knowing about it (the office used to be associated with starkwall--maybe?? maybe the oiar loaded the gun and starkwall pulled the trigger?)

there's so many moving parts here and i'm struggling to put them all together without a god damn corkboard and red string.

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp vague #tmagp spoilers #tmagp theories #tmagp theory #tmagp 28 #tmagp 19 #tmagp 27 #tmagp 13 #tmagp 15

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paddockletters · 2 days ago

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redeemed | lando norris part 6

masterlist | previous part | next part

a/n: hope you're all enjoying how this 'series' is turning out! if you have any ideas or would like something to happen, everything is welcome—even feedback. thanks for the love! <3

years ago 2021

lando

liked by danielricciardo and 239,912 others

lando: A good night

tagged: yourusername

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user1: OH MY GOD THEY’RE BACK???

user2: seeing Lando and Y/N together again is healing me 😭

user3: my emotional support friendship is ALIVE

user4: this post is giving 2019 energy and I love it

user5: their friendship is literally goals, don’t let this ever fall apart again pls

youbff: a historic moment. a monumental reunion

maxfewtrell: about time. Do I get credit for this???

carlossainz55: did she finally forgive you or did you just annoy her into hanging out again?

mclaren: We approve of this post 🧡

user6: It’s crazy how seeing them together again makes me feel like all is right in the world

user7: okay but how long before people start overanalyzing this? 🤭

user8: this better not be temporary, I suffered enough last time

user9: Next step: a Twitch stream collab. MAKE IT HAPPEN PLSSS

yourusername posted stories

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yourusername: Familiar faces, good times ❤️

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user1: THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS BACK I’M SOBBING

user2: bet Lando’s gf is punching the air rn 💀

user3: soft launch of the comeback era???

maxfewtrell: Finally, some peace in the world

carlossainz55: good to see you two acting normal again… I think?

user4: max is the #1 cheerleader for this reunion 💀

lando: relax

user5: He said ‘relax’ but he’s smiling SO hard in this pic

user6: Lando’s gf bout to deactivate after this one.

lando posted stories

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lando: Some things don’t change

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user1: IT IS Y/N? RIGHT??? 👀

user2: noooo, that's y/n???

user3: your gf saw this and threw her phone across the room

user4: maybe is gf???

danielricciardo: oh we’re being mysterious now?

user5: lando posting like a man with something to say but not saying it 😭

user6: we’re gonna do the ‘are they / aren’t they’ thing again, aren’t we?

user7: he literally has a girlfriend??? wdym😭😭

user8: i’m scared to look at his gf’s likes rn

lando's pov

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lando's pov

taglist @hadesnumber1daughter @harrysdimple05 @royaleaxis @angelluv16 @formulaal @chezmardybum @freyathehuntress @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @azuramicah @anayaverse @awritingtree @norrisainz33 @rbv3rstappen @clemson20 @mintdde0nu @blushmimi @atsumubabe @irisesinthegarden @screamingwines @starrxxgirl @thegalaxyisunfolding @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @kathenaaa @apollos-arc @mxm47max @geometric-circle @goldenharrysworld

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dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth · 1 day ago

Text

Just 2 years ago I visited a Pet Smart with my mother. The cashier was a cool dude with these gauges in his ears, and tattoos all over, a real rugged punk type like myself!

But as we approached, my mother outright asked him if it was hard to get a job with all of that. She asked if it's impractical to have gauges and tattoos because what if people think poorly of him?

Completely unprompted. She just suddenly began drilling him.

The cashier, gods be with him, brushed it off and took it like a fucking champ, expressing his love for how he appeared and I can't blame him!! He looked badass as hell!! Yet my mother kept pressing and causing obvious discomfort to not just him and myself but others in line as well, as if somehow her berating questions would get him to change. But that man defended himself relentlessly but kindly and with an upbeat attitude!

My mother literally didn't stop trying to push her point until I ushered her out of the store.

Once, as a little kid, I saw a cashier at the art store with blue hair, and seeing that blue is my favorite color, I wanted to compliment her!!

Before we even got in line, my mother pulled me aside and told me, word for word, "Do not say anything about her hair."

I ignored her, of course, and a few seconds after we arrived at the register, I told the woman I liked her hair a lot!

And my mother just exhaustedly sighed and held her head in utter dismay, IMMEDIATELY reprimanding me verbally for having said anything!!! That cashier told my mother it was fine and she was so happy to hear somebody say something nice about her hair!!

While I was walking with my mother through our neighborhood as a kid, we'd passed by a boy shooting hoops or something, but he was making every shot and well, so I said aloud as we passed, "Wow, that boy is REALLY good!"

And my mother SCOLDED me!! She harshly said, word for word, "Magnus, you DON'T do that!" And she was VERY relentless and angry in how she said it.

I was so confused. I still am.

My grandparents were the exact same. I encountered many situations like this when with them growing up. My aunts did the same, reprimenading me for giving a compliment. But all of them found it completely ok to berate a stranger for any reason at all, prompted or unprompted.

I tried asking my mother why I couldn't say something nice, and she couldn't give a valid explanation no matter how much I asked. All my mother did was continuously insist I don't do that (complimenting a stranger), and that it's rude to say anything of the sort.

Why is it so abhorrent to say someone is good at something? Why is it horrible if I tell someone their appearance is cool? If their talents are great? Why is it acceptable to berate somebody and call them out for any minor reason completely unprompted, but it's not acceptable to voice unprompted kindness and support with genuine desire to share love???

Why is rudeness acceptable but kindness isn't????

Now, I'm autistic, and I don't even pretend to understand social norms. But I do know how kindness can literally save lives, and how it genuinely just makes shit better for everyone no matter if they're having a good day or bad, when they are given a genuine compliment. So I was never sure if this is just some double standard or if it's something deeper, either or obviously being ingrained over many generations, but I say fuck it.

I compliment strangers constantly these days. I tell folks their tattoos are awesome, that I love their earrings, their outfits are so cool and well put together, their hair looks perfect! I compliment folks on their talents, and I'm genuine and heartfelt about it, meaning every word I say with sincerity!!

Strangers have given me hugs! People have broken down crying and hugged me for my I kindness!!! So many people have told me word for word, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me!" And I'm not kidding.

I find every possible reason to compliment somebody, to voice kindness, especially for things such as piercings and hair dye and talents and the sort, especially those that many would disapprove of.

The way I see it is that if nobody ever hears support, then how will they know they're being supported at all? And if all anyone voices is disdain and berating, then how does anyone feel loved and supported??

So yeah. I don't get the whole belief of compliments = rude, and berating = fine. I don't think I'll ever know why this is normalized here.

But I'm damn tired of this because it's the precursor to allowing folks to walk all over you. If you can't voice a kind compliment to another without being shut down, then you're never going to be able to vocalize support of someone in need when they're being berated harshly and given shit left and right.

weird as fuck living in a culture where it's considered more impolite to speak up and defend yourself against someone treating you unfairly than it is for someone to be rude to you in the first place

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writingoddess1125 · 17 hours ago

Text

Annoying Shit They Do

COD Men X GN Reader

Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle, König, Horangi + Bonus

NOT PROOF READ

This is all tongue and cheek. Enjoy!

Simon

Simon was a very.. Well thought out man.

He was always prepared-

Painfully prepared.. for every situation and some situations that weren't even possible.

You knew Simon loved knowing what he was going into at all times. However it can be a bit much at the best of times.

Ever had 2 different types of navigation tools including a compass while going to the post office?

You have-

Ever had hiking gear loaded into your car cause you where going to a local park to jog?

You sure as fuck have!

Thanks to Mr. Always Prepared Skull Man!

You swore this man was prepared for a Mutant zombie apocalypse with the amount of supplies and preparations he had constantly.

Sure while it wasn't something you thought about often and it was clearly in a loving way, He wanted to make sure you were always safe and you appreciated it deeply-

However when you go into your kitchen and see MRE's and emergency dried food to last 30 years next to your chips-

It can get a bit much..

It was always a bit power struggle with the broody man. You'd have a better time fist fighting a brick wall or bringing a rock to a orgasm then winning over the Lieutenant when it came to stuff like this.

Which lead you to staring at the hard black suitcase that was being loaded into the back of the SUV along with your guys few shared soft luggage bags.

You rub your temple, perfectly in between the two emotions of either crying or laughing at your partner.

"Simon-.. I love you. So so much. However I don't think, We need a literal military grade survival kit.. on a couples get away to a private resort"

He looked to you calmly-

"Never know.."

You look up to the sky, Begging whoever is up there that he leaves the kit in the car the whole vacation- and that he doesn't bring a tactical knife into the resort..

Price

John, the love of your life. The apple of your eye..

A good man and a Captain of a special Ops team...

Also..

The bastard that leaves one God damn bit left of whatever he touches and tells no one!

From toothpaste where there is only a bead sized amount left.

To even leaving four chips in the family size bag you'd gotten.

Leaves a single bite of ice cream in the pint and puts it back like it's still full.

Ever opened a box of what used to be Chinese takeout and seen literally 6 noodles, 12 grains of rice and a single piece of meat with a perfect green onion on top?

You sure as fuck had.

You knew it started out as something he genuinely did naturally. However once he figured out it annoyed you- It was on.. he now did it cause he knew it annoyed you.

The fucker-

Just how now you stared at the empty jug of what used to be white grape juice. Now with maybe a shot glass worth in the bottom.

You supress the demonic feeling of wanting to Hex your spouse.

Walking upstairs to his office area where you knew he was both smoking a cigar and drinking from his private stash while watching football (soccer).

Opening the door slowly you make direct eye contact with him. Price slowly raising an eyebrow at the serious look on your face.

"Yes Dear?"

You hold up the empty jug of juice and shake it a little showing the literal trinkle of juice left in it.

"Couldn't just kill it off could you?-"

John gives a smile at you as he takes a sip of his scotch.

"Well, Wanted to save ya some-"

John laughed loudly when you threw the empty juice jug at his head after that.

Kyle

Kyle likes to mess with stuff...

Always moving stuff around, always touching stuff, messing or bending things.

If it's in reach his hands seem to find it-

He's like those children you used to see that had to have their hands on the cart at all times or in their parents pockets cause they would always touch stuff.

Kyle was one of those people in adult form- You'd even heard his mother yell at him saying 'Idle hands are the devils workshop' when he visits and continues the practice.

While in most cases you didn't mind, it was a bit irritating when things got moved from where you'd left them or things just appearing out of thin air.

Your tube of chapstick? Suddenly in the Livingroom.

Phone charger? Now sitting on a random shelf.

You knew it wasn't on purpose but damn, Hell he didn't even seem to realize it himself.

He'd be sitting there, shaking his knee as he rolled something between his hands casually. The two of you talking about something random in the livingroom.

You can't help but narrow your eyes a bit as you see something silver in his palm which he was rolling like playdough.

"Sweetie, What are you messing with?"

He also looks confused for a second, not even realizing he had been messing with something. He looks over whatever had been in his hands.

"Uhh Looks like a oat bar-"

You scrunch up your face a bit.

"We don't even have any granola bars in the house? Where did you get that?"

He shrugs having no idea himself.

Johnny

He buys bulk in everything...

Once he realized that it was a thing he could just do-

He did it with everything..

Bulk Paper towels, Bulk Soy Sauce, 45lb tub of Nut Butter? He got all of it, Leading you to staring up at what was equivalent to a Military food storage in your downstairs pantry.

Leaving you currently staring up at the 25lb cloth bag of table salt on the top of the easy 10ft tall pantry shelf wondering if this was worth the possible 80% death rate trying to fill up the salt shaker.

As you stare up at it, the man of the hour pokes his head in. Seeing you staring at the bag of salt.

"Love?-"

"Johnny My Dear- We have essentially a bunker of Bulk everything. I don't think we need anything else.. I cant even get the salt without risking a skull fracture"

Johnny chuckles at this. Setting down a box to grab the hefty stool kept in the pantry and pulling down the bag, Setting it next to you on the floor.

"Well just saves us the hassle"

He chimed with a chuckle. However you silently disagreed.. Before looking to the large box hed set down.

"What is that?.."

Johnny gives a shy chuckle as you move over opening it quickly you see a massive mountain of 250 individual bags of Welch's Fruit Snacks.

"Johnny.. Why is there enough fruit snacks to kill a small child?"

Hong-Jin (Horangi)

So you're darling husband, He has a wonderful terrible habit of just disappearing..

Walking through a store?

Going to a Restaurant?

Hell going down the hallway of your house!?

The Poof-

He's just gone.

Which always leaves you stranded looking around like a crazy person.. Currently in a giant ass world grocery store he had been the one to drag you to- Aka you knew nothing!

"God Damnit-"

You mumble looking around the aisles trying to see if you could spot him. The place was like a maze, each aisle was a different part of the world it seemed and had at least 60 people crammed in each section.

It was hell! Why did he leave you here!? Now rushing around to just find a spot that wasn't being occupied or in anyone's way.

Aisles 43!? You thought you where at 12!? Where is the Exit!?

Standing there confused by what seemed to be some sort of brooms, you feel a small tap and see Hong-Jin standing there calmly.

"Found you. Got what I needed, We can go now"

He holds up a single small package of a seasoning mix he liked.

...

There was a small tick in the back of your brain that said to shove that packet up his ass.

König-

One word-

ONE GOD DAMN WORD

Lüften...

While sure, it's good to air out the room..

However not when there is 4ft of snow outside and the heater is off because of König wanting to 'Save Gas'.

Bullshit to save gas, He just likes the cold. Correction.. He Loves the cold.

More then most around you or anyone probably in this country. He will happily have the window open and let the house freeze like the arctic saying its refreshing new air.

Ever seen those weirdos that walk in a blizzard in shorts, sandals and a shirt?-

That's him.. damn near skips when a snow storm hits.

However he drags that brand of cold enthusiasm into the house. Leading you huddled under 4 blankets as you have to turn the heater onto Max.

"I swear- If you open that God damn window.."

You mumble to you're spouse as you look up from the blankets of your guys shared bed hiding from the cold that was already in the room as the heater works hard to make the room livable.

Seeing König standing by the large window ready to open it- His hands on the little handle as he stared wide eyed at you.

"But-"

"There is a snow storm going on. The house does not by any means- 'need to be aired out'"

"It feels nice Liebling and it's goo-"

"Felix- I will turn the heat on during peak summer and leave you here... to melt"

And Bonus!

Nikto

This man will eat anywhere at anytime..

You leave him alone for .24 milliseconds?

He's munching on something in record time.

Sure he seemed to burn it off but it was the amount he could eat, what he ate and then if it was close to dinner. He would eat again-

You where honestly starting to worry about his health.. He was concerned about the scars on his face but not the amount of sodium he just drank from the pickle jar.

It made it so when you left to grab one of his prescriptions from the pharmacy which you swore was 15 minutes tops you walk in and see Nikto there with a mountain of food on your coffee table watching TV.

A opened pickled onion jar which was now empty- juice gone too, Some sort of packaged meat that seemed was mostly gone and what seemed to be a rolled newspaper filled with the shells of sunflower seeds and seemingly walnut shells (You hadn't even bought either of them-) And now he was cutting up an apple with a knife and using it to eat the slices.

"H-How, Its been 15 minutes... We don't even have walnuts in the house?"

Nikto looked to you eating another slice of apple and shrugged.

"We got hungry-"

He said plainly before looking back at the TV you standing there both worried and frustrated.

"How we just had dinner? There are leftovers!"

"Not anymore. I ate it-"

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exhuastedpigeon · 17 hours ago

Text

Three months in to living in El Paso and Eddie is desperate to get back to L.A. Chris is living with him again, his job is fine, but the only thing that feels right is having Chris back. The house is getting there, but realistically the only rooms that are good are Chris's, the bathroom, and the kitchen. There's no way he'll get it fixed up good enough to sell it on his own, at least not quickly.

He's on the phone with Buck lamenting about how both he and Chris want to come back to L.A. but he just can't afford that, not with a mortgage on a house that no one in their right mind would buy.

Then on his next 48 off there's a knock at his door. He isn't expecting anyone, Chris is spending the day with Sophia, Eddie was planning on making a go at replacing the floorboards that are literally rotting in his room, but that can wait. He answers the door and Buck, Bobby, Hen, and Chim are all standing there. Buck's got his hands tucked into his pockets and a bashful smile on his face when he says, "Seemed like you could use some backup."

Eddie just kind of stare at them. but mostly at Buck. Because he's 800 miles away from L.A., from his family that he built there, and instead of letting him suffer and try to dig himself out on his own, they're all here.

Bobby smiles and holds up his tool box, Chim shrugs and says, "Just make sure there's no flying rebar and put me to work." and Hen smiles at him and says she's got dibs on anything that needs to be hit with a sledge hammer.

So they all come in and Bobby and Hen get working on the rotten floorboards and Chimney takes one look at the state of the bookshelves (shelves still broken, books still in boxes on the floor) and decides that's his project.

Then it's just Buck and Eddie standing there in the living room and Buck's getting a little fidgety so he says, "I-I know this is probably a lot, b-but I mentioned that you and Chris miss L.A. and the reason you can't move back is this stupid house and they all asked when we could come help get you home."

It hits Eddie right there in the living room of this house that will never be his home. He loves this man. He loves all of the 118, loves them like they're family, but Buck is different. Buck is – Buck is Buck. And what's he supposed to do except kiss him?

Chim lets them have their moment but then he says, "Pretty sure the faster we work the faster you two will be able to do that all the time."

And they both laugh and smile and Buck kisses Eddie again just because he can. And then Eddie grabs his to do list and hands it to Buck (much to Bobby, Hen, and Chim's chagrin).

They get all the projects on Eddie's list done before the 118 leaves and a month later Eddie and Chris are back in L.A., where they belong, and the house in El Paso is on the market.

#911 #911 ficlet #911 abc #911 spec #but not really #firefam #buddie #eddie diaz #911 spoilers

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lazysoulwriter · 2 days ago

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warm kisses, cold mountains. - lando norris.

using this request to say that i'm writing for lando now! ♡ (sorry if I take too long bubs)

----

The cold air bites at your cheeks as you adjust the goggles resting on your forehead, your snowboard tucked under your arm. The Austrian Alps stretch endlessly behind you, a breathtaking backdrop to yet another Red Bull-sponsored training session. Snowboarding has been your life for as long as you can remember, and now, being one of the top athletes in the sport, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Well… except maybe for the man currently watching you with a grin from the sidelines.

Lando Norris, the McLaren driver who somehow became the love of your life, sits on a snow-covered bench, bundled up in layers, his nose and cheeks slightly pink from the cold. He’s been here all morning, watching you practice, cheering you on between his sips of hot chocolate.

When you reach him, shaking the fresh powder off your jacket, he immediately opens his arms for you. “Come here,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

You don’t hesitate. Settling onto his lap, you feel the warmth of his body seep through the thick layers of your clothes. He tightens his arms around you, nuzzling his face against your shoulder.

“You look amazing out there,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jaw. “I swear, I could watch you do this all day.”

You chuckle, running a gloved hand through his curls. “That’s literally what you’ve been doing.”

“Yeah, well…” He grins, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “Still not enough.”

You sigh, letting your forehead rest against his. The contrast between his warm breath and the crisp mountain air makes you shiver, but it has nothing to do with the cold.

“You should come with me on the next run,” you tease, tilting your head slightly. “I can teach you a thing or two.”

Lando lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I like my bones intact, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes. “Coward.”

“Smart,” he corrects, his lips curving into a smirk before he kisses you—slow, sweet, and lingering, the kind that makes you forget about the cold entirely.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your waist.

“I don’t get how you’re not freezing,” he mutters, pulling you even closer.

“Years of training in the snow,” you say with a small smile. “And maybe the fact that you’re a human heater helps.”

Lando hums, clearly content. “I like being useful.”

“You are.” You brush your lips against his cheek. “In more ways than one.”

He grins at that, squeezing your sides playfully. “Good. Because I plan on being your personal cheerleader forever.”

You shake your head with a laugh before standing up, grabbing your snowboard. “Alright, since you won’t come with me, at least wait here. I have one more run, and then we can go back to the cabin.”

Lando groans dramatically. “Fine. But only if there’s hot chocolate involved.”

You wink. “And extra marshmallows.”

His face lights up, and before you can turn away, he grabs your wrist, pulling you in for another kiss—this one a little deeper, a little more lingering.

“Now go,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours for a brief second. “I’ll be here. Always.”

With one last smile, you strap your board on and push off, knowing that, no matter how many slopes you conquer, nothing will ever compare to the warmth of Lando’s love.

And later, when the two of you are back at the cabin, tangled up under thick blankets, his hands tracing lazy patterns on your skin as the fireplace crackles softly in the background—you realize that some kinds of warmth have nothing to do with the temperature outside.

----

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wynnd1 · 2 days ago

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I wish there was a reliable way to communicate information to future historians.

Because I want the record to reflect that not only is Elon Musk a fascist piece of shit, but he’s also just flat out lame.

Fucker wanted go make a the world’s ugliest truck seem cool and while showing off how it had bulletproof windows to investors he put a fucking hole in the window. And then proceeded to sell some of the shoddiest pieces of automotive manufacturing to ever curse this world.

Man bought one of the highest valued companies at the time (Twitter) and threw away the branding, the thing that held a significant amount of the value, in exchange for a url that looks like a porn site. He then proceeded to run said company unbelievably deeply into the ground.

He had to get the President of the United States to advertise his shitty cars and trucks on the White House lawn because he tanked the stock value by being a fascist. It’s pathetic.

And the only reason he’s capable of doing that and still somehow exist in the public is because his daddy ran an emerald mine in apartheid South Africa. And I don’t mean that as a pejorative to describe the country of South Africa, I mean that as the literal time period description. The Apartheid is the only thing he seems to have learned from there. Man could have looked up to Nelson Mandela as a hero and instead decided: nah, actually the apartheid was a good thing.

As horrific as the things he is doing, I don’t think I’ll ever not feel pity for him. And I mean pity for his soul. He could have chosen to be a great person, and instead he decided to be a piece of shit. No matter how much money he spends, he will never experience the joy of helping another human. He will never understand what it feels like to make someone smile and feel that there is goodness in the world.

And I can’t help but pity him. Not sympathy, pity. Because he is pathetic. Money can buy many things, but it can’t buy the love he so desperately craves but will never receive because every action he takes is calculated to cause people harm. So yeah, I feel anger, rage, frustration, disappointment, but it will always come back to pity for the worlds most pathetic, loveless man.

He’s not even just cringe. Cringe is dead. He WISHES he was cringe. That might mean he existed in the modern area, or that he ever experienced genuine human connection during his life time. He’s just lame and the only thing he deserves in life is pity.

I hope his legacy follows a trajectory that combines those of Ea Nasir and Caligula. Because that’s all he is at his core: a shady business man, and a mentally unstable orchestrator of horrors. At least Ea Nasir just sold shitty copper instead of peddling fascism.

As Elon Musk cements his place in history as a fascist tech overlord and the rest of the world looks at us in horror, I really do want to reiterate what I feel will be lost to the history books

Nearly everyone in america has thought and continues to think that Elon is very cringe.

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lovingdynamight · 2 days ago

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Mha boys when they have a crush on you vs dating you

—————————————

Paring: Katsuki Bakugo, Denki Kaminari, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya x reader

Genre: fluff

_______________________

Katsuki Bakugo

✦ First of all, denial. Hard, aggressive denial. There’s no way he likes you. Nope. Not happening.

✦ Spoiler: It’s happening.

✦ He gets annoyed at how much he notices you—your laugh, the way you talk, the way you tilt your head when you’re confused. It’s all infuriating (because it makes his heart race, and he HATES it).

✦ The second someone suggests he has a crush, he’s exploding. “THE HELL ARE YOU TALKIN’ ABOUT? I DON’T LIKE ‘EM!” (Yes, he does.)

✦ Despite his denial, he’s always around you. If you’re in the common room, so is he. If you’re training, he suddenly needs to train too.

✦ If someone flirts with you, his entire mood shifts. He won’t admit he’s jealous, but he will suddenly feel the urge to outshine whoever’s talking to you. (“Tch. Like that extra could even keep up with you.”)

✦ If you ask him for help with training, he acts super cocky about it, but deep down, he loves that you asked.

✦ Blushes when you compliment him but immediately covers it up with grumbling. “Damn right, I’m great.” (Meanwhile, his ears are bright red.)

✦ The type to bully his crush affectionately. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t waste his time teasing you. If he calls you an idiot, it’s probably his love language.

✦ His love is shown through actions. He’ll shove his jacket at you if you’re cold. He’ll bring you your favorite drink without a word. He’ll walk you back to your dorm and say it’s just “because you’d probably get lost or somethin’.”

✦ When he finally confesses, it’s not smooth. At all. Probably happens after he gets jealous. “Look, dumbass, I like you, alright?! So stop messin’ around with those other extras!”

✦ He’s the most possessive boyfriend. Not in a toxic way—he just wants everyone to know that you’re his.

✦ PDA? It depends. He won’t be all over you in public, but he will sling an arm around your shoulders or keep a hand on your waist to make sure people get the message.

✦ However, in private? Oh, yeah. Big softie. Will hold you for hours if you let him.

✦ Not a huge fan of pet names but will call you things like “dumbass” or “idiot” in an oddly affectionate way.

✦ But if he ever calls you something genuinely sweet (“Hey… you look good today, babe.”), it means everything.

✦ Aggressively supportive. If you’re struggling, he’s yelling about how strong you are. “You’re not some weak extra! You’re better than that! Now get up and prove it!”

✦ Acts annoyed but secretly loves it when you steal his hoodies.

✦ If you’re hurt, he’s hovering. Fuming. Yelling at the nurses to take better care of you. (“Fix them faster, dammit!”)

✦ The king of forehead kisses. He does them absentmindedly sometimes, like before he heads to bed or when he’s pulling away from a hug.

✦ Will fight literally anyone who upsets you. Doesn’t even ask what happened, just “Who do I gotta kill?”

✦ If you ever try to leave after an argument, good luck. He hates unresolved fights and will literally pick you up and carry you back.

✦ Secretly a cuddler. Won’t admit it, but if you fall asleep next to him, he’s not letting go.

Denki Kaminari

✦The most obvious crush in Class 1-A. If Denki likes you, literally everyone knows except you.

✦Flirts with you constantly. Even if you brush him off, he keeps trying. “Come on, babe, don’t break my heart like this.”

✦However, the moment you flirt back? Glitching. Buffering. Might actually short-circuit if you catch him off guard.

✦Finds any excuse to be around you. If you’re sitting, he’s sitting next to you. If you’re standing, suddenly he needs to stand right there, too.

✦Shamelessly asks to hold your hand all the time. “For science. I just wanna see if we have, like, good chemistry, y’know?”

✦If anyone else flirts with you, he’ll pretend it doesn’t bother him, but his dumb little pout says otherwise.

✦Subtly protective. If he notices you look uncomfortable, he’ll step in like, “Heyyy, there you are! Been looking for you!” even if he wasn’t.

✦The human charger. If your phone is dying, he insists on charging it for you. “See? I’m useful. You need me.”

✦ Laughs at all your jokes, even the bad ones. If you make fun of him, he just grins and goes, “Damn, you really like me, huh?”

✦Casually drops hints about liking you but makes it sound like a joke. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.” (He’s not joking.)

✦When he finally confesses, it’s probably in the middle of a casual conversation. “By the way, I’m, like, super in love with you.”

✦Clingy. If you’re in the same room, he’s touching you in some way—a hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist, leaning his head on you.

✦Loves PDA. If you let him, he’ll hold your hand, hug you from behind, and drop so many cheek kisses.

✦Calls you so many nicknames. Babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, lovebug, shockingly attractive, the list goes on.

✦Steals your stuff. Hoodies, accessories, snacks—it’s all his now. “I wear this hoodie better anyway.”

✦If you ever wear his hoodie, though? Malfunctioning. “Holy sh—okay, keep that forever.”

✦The most dramatic boyfriend. If you’re gone for five minutes, he’s whining, “I missed you so much.”

✦Gets jealous easily but tries to play it cool. Usually fails. “Yeah, whatever, I’m fine. It’s not like I’m mad or anything.” (He is definitely mad.)

✦Insists on being your human charger anytime your phone dies. “See? I’m the best boyfriend. Unlimited battery, baby.”

✦If you’re upset, he’ll do everything to make you smile—even if that means electrocuting himself on purpose to make you laugh.

✦Cuddle monster. He will literally wrap himself around you like a human blanket. “You’re warm. I’m comfy. This is how we live now.”

✦Kisses constantly. Especially your cheeks and nose. If you’re flustered? Mission accomplished.

✦Brags about you all the time. “Yeah, my s/o is literally the coolest person alive. I don’t make the rules.”

✦Loyal to the core. If someone talks bad about you, he’s ready to fight. Probably not a good idea, but he’ll still try.

✦Just so in love with you. Tells you every day. Probably writes your name with little hearts in his notebook.

Shoto Todoroki

✦ At first, he doesn’t fully realize he has a crush. He just notices that he enjoys being around you more than anyone else.

✦ You’re the only person he actively seeks out to sit next to in class or during lunch. If someone else takes the seat? He just stands there, waiting for them to move.

✦ He’s not super obvious, but you might catch him staring at you a lot. And if you ask why, he’ll just say, “I was thinking about something.” (That something is you.)

✦ If you ever compliment him, he takes it very seriously. You could say, “You look nice today, Todoroki,” and suddenly, he’s replaying it in his head for the rest of the week.

✦ Struggles to make small talk but will always listen to whatever you have to say, no matter how mundane. You could be ranting about your favorite snacks, and he’s nodding like it’s the most important conversation of his life.

✦ He’s not a jealous person, but if Denki or someone flirts with you, he’ll suddenly insert himself into the conversation, staring at them until they get uncomfortable and leave.

✦ If you’re ever cold, he offers the left side of his body without hesitation. Literally just— “You can use my fire.”

✦ You make him smile without realizing it. Sometimes he’ll catch himself smiling after you say something funny and quickly go blank-faced again.

✦ Now that he knows for sure he likes you, he’s much more direct. “I like you. Be my s/o?” No hesitation, just vibes.

✦ Dates with him are either extremely fancy (five-star restaurants because Endeavor’s money) or ridiculously casual (“Do you want soba?”). There is no in-between.

✦ Not big on PDA, but if he sees other people looking at you, he will put a hand on your back or casually hold your hand as a silent flex.

✦ He’s not used to being physically affectionate but learns quickly. If you initiate a hug, expect him to just hold you there for a while.

✦ Tries to learn your favorite things so he can surprise you with them. If you mention liking a certain dessert, expect it to randomly appear in your dorm or on your desk.

✦ If you get sick or injured? He’s sitting by your side, watching you like a hawk, making sure you rest properly.

✦ Lowkey competitive about being the best boyfriend. If he sees another couple being cute, he immediately takes notes. “Do you want me to call you cute names? I can do that.”

✦ If you tease him, he’ll stare at you for a long moment before hitting you with a dry, unexpected comeback that leaves you speechless.

✦ Absolutely cherishes you but doesn’t always know how to express it with words. Instead, he just shows up and does things for you—helping with training, bringing you snacks, or simply being near you.

✦ Occasionally drops the most romantic lines without even realizing it. You could be joking about something, and he’ll just go, “I’d go anywhere if you were there.”

✦ If he ever kisses you in public, it’s brief but meaningful. But in private? He’s surprisingly soft about it, cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Izuku Midoriya

✦ Blushy mess. The second he realizes he likes you, he’s doomed. Face red, hands fidgeting, brain short-circuiting anytime you talk to him.

✦ Overthinks everything. Did he stare too long? Did he say something weird? Should he say something now? Oh no, you’re looking at him—PANIC.

✦ You can always tell when he’s flustered because he starts rambling.

✦“You’re really strong! I mean, you’ve always been strong, but I’ve been watching— WAIT, not in a weird way! I just mean you’ve improved a lot, and—”*

✦ Writes about you in his notebook. He’ll analyze your fighting style, strengths, weaknesses—but there’s also a random section like: “They looked really cute today.”

✦ If you get hurt in battle, he immediately drops everything to check on you. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? Do you need Recovery Girl?”

✦ SO SUPPORTIVE. If you’re training, he’s hyping you up. If you’re struggling, he’s offering help. He’ll literally never let you doubt yourself.

✦ Tries to act casual around you but fails horribly. His friends figure it out before he even tells them.

✦ If you compliment him? Dead. He freezes, stammers out a thank you, and turns the color of a tomato.

✦ Low-key jealous but won’t admit it. Instead, he’ll silently sulk and train harder. “I have to be stronger…” (Translation: I must be worthy of them.)

✦ You could breathe in his direction and he’d probably write a mental essay about how amazing you are.

✦ The sweetest, most caring boyfriend ever. He remembers the little things—your favorite food, how you like your tea, that one random fact you mentioned weeks ago.

✦ Constantly checking on you. “Did you eat? Are you getting enough rest? You’re not pushing yourself too hard, right?”

✦ Loves holding your hand. It calms him down, and he thinks it’s the most comforting thing in the world.

✦ Still gets flustered when you kiss him, even if you’ve been dating for a while.

✦ Study dates! If you ever struggle with schoolwork, he’ll patiently tutor you (and definitely get distracted just admiring you).

✦ If you get hurt? Full-on panic mode. He’ll carry you to Recovery Girl himself if needed. “You need to be more careful! I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you…”

✦ PDA? Minimal. He’s shy about it, but he’ll hold your hand or press small kisses to your forehead when no one’s looking.

✦ If you’re upset, he’ll listen for hours and offer the most heartfelt advice. “I know it’s hard, but you’re strong. And no matter what, I’ll always be here.”

✦ If you ever wear his hoodie? Meltdown. He thinks you look so cute in his clothes. “T-That’s… um… it looks good on you.” (Brain officially short-circuited.)

✦ Rambles about you to All Might. “They’re incredible, sensei! Their technique, their determination—oh, and did I mention how amazing they are?”

✦ The type to whisper ‘I love you’ when he thinks you’re asleep.

✦ If he ever gets jealous, he won’t lash out, but he’ll get extra clingy after. Might even pull you in for a surprise hug just to reassure himself you’re his.

✦ Always puts you first. Your happiness, your safety, your dreams—he wants all of it for you.

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Thanks for reading.

First time doing head cannons let me know if we want more of these or one shots along with what kind of scenarios for head cannons and one shots.

All works done by me. Reblogs comments and likes are encouraged and appreciated. Make sure to leave request in my inbox.

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