#call this posing practice I guess

[shadow0-1]

Portraits - Shadows

[harrysfolklore]

charles leclerc simping over his girlfriend: a compilation

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | charles smau | charles headcanon

PART TWO

No matter where Charles went or what he did, one thing was constant - he simply could not stop talking about his girlfriend.

He was utterly smitten, and it showed through his words and massive smile every time her name came up. Fans quickly noticed Charles' habit of gushing over YN in interviews, on social media, with reporters, and even during casual interactions.

It became such a phenomenon that Formula 1 super-fans began compiling clips of Charles being a total simp for his girl into viral videos.

The most popular one was called "Charles Leclerc simping over his girlfriend: a compilation, and the 15-minute long video compiled some of the most hilarious, heartwarming, and over-the-top examples of the F1 star's borderline obsession with his girlfriend.

It opened with a clip from Charles' interview on Sky Sports before the Monaco Grand Prix. The reporter asked how special it was racing at his home circuit.

"It's amazing driving here where I grew up," Charles said with a huge smile. "But honestly, the best part is having my girlfriend YN here supporting me, this is already such a special race but having her here just adds another layer to it."

"Could you say that you have a good luck charm with you today?" the reporter asked again.

"Definitely, she's always my good luck charm."

The next clip was from Charles and Carlos' music challenge for Ferrari's YouTube channel, they had to guess the song that was playing with just a three second snippet.

"As it was, Harry Styles!" Charles said and rang the small bell that was placed in the middle of them as soon as he heard the first second of the intro.

"You've been practicing," Carlos stated as he pointed at him raising an eyebrow.

"I love this song," Charles said to the camera, "My girlfriend is obsessed with it, she plays it every day."

"And you talk about her every day," Carlos teased, elbowing him.

"I do, I do."

The video moved to show Charles with some fans, he was getting his luggage after a flight and they approached him asking for a picture, one of them filming the whole interaction.

"Of course, no problem at all," Charles replied warmly with a small smile on his face.

As he posed for a picture with the group, Charles noticed that one of the fans was wearing a Taylor Swift shirt. His eyes lit up with recognition and a smile spread across his face.

"I see you're a Taylor Swift fan," Charles remarked, pointing to the shirt. "My girlfriend loves Taylor too. She's always playing her songs around the house and talking about her."

"Wow, that's so cool!" the fan's eyes widened in surprise, "What's her favorite song?" they asked.

"I think her favorite is 'Love Story," Charles chuckled, "She says it reminds her of us."

"That's such a classic! Your girlfriend has great taste," the fan said.

"Thank you, I'll let her know you said that."

The next clip was from Charles' interview promoting his new ice cream brand called LEC, a reporter had asked him how did he come up with the creative names for each flavor.

"It was a teamwork between me and my girlfriend, actually," he replied with a smile, "She played a huge part on this project, everyone knows I could't had come up with Vanillove and Pistachi-on on my own."

The video then cut to a clip from the F1 Grill the Grid challenge, where drivers were playing 'Never Have I Ever", when asked "Have you ever missed a flight?", Charles immediately knew his answer."

"I have, more than once," he said, quickly adding, "But it wasn't my fault, my girlfriend has this long morning routine that she refuses to skip, even though she looks beautiful no matter what."

The video also included footage of Charles during a press conference before the Australia Grand Prix, a reporter asked him about his pre-race rituals.

"Well, I have a few things I like to do before getting into the car," Charles began. "But one thing that's become a bit of a tradition is a phone call with my girlfriend. No matter where we are in the world, we always find time to talk before the race if she's not there."

"What do you two usually talk about?"

"Oh, just the usual stuff," Charles replied with a grin. "She gives me some last-minute words of encouragement, tells me to be safe, that sort of thing. It's nice to hear her voice before such a big moment."

A clip form Charles' 'One week in Los Angeles' was also included, he was playing around at the basketball course shirtless.

"No way!" he said after he missed the basket again, "This is making me look really bad, I need to impress my girl."

The camera panned to her for a moment, and Charles sent a wink her way.

"Are you impressed, love? he asked, throwing the ball and missing once again.

"Very, but not by your basketball skills."

The compilation went on and on, clip after clip of Charles finding any opportunity to mention his girlfriend and proclaim his love for her. From the most casual conversations to the highest-pressure interviews, he just could not help himself from gushing.

As the video ended, the caption displayed: "Get yourself a man who loves you like Charles loves YN."

[luveline]

I love love LOVE the writing you've done for Spencer Reid!!! I'm practically living off of it at this point. I was thinking since we All love Spencer wearing glasses, what if the roles were reversed and HE was the one getting flustered after seeing reader in glasses for the first time?

thank u!!

“Where is she?” 

Spencer doesn’t have to look to guess what ‘she’ Morgan is wondering after. “She texted. She woke up late.” 

“Late? Is that BAU approved?” Morgan asks.

“I think her phone is broken.” 

Emily shakes a hair tie down her hand. Morgan holds her compact mirror open for her. “She’s not the only one running late. I swear the night gets shorter every time I fall sleep.” She wrinkles her nose, collecting her hair into one hand behind her head, wrapping her tie around in an impressive, painful looking ponytail. Morgan passes her a comb. She neatens up her bangs. 

Spencer’s head finally lifts at the sound of your hasty entrance and following apologies, “I’m sorry, shit, oh, sorry. I’m really sorry, Anderson, I’ll make it up to you,” you say, hidden behind Anderson’s tall stature.

“That’s okay, L/N. Hey, what’s with the glasses?” 

Spencer squints, willing Anderson to move out of the way. “It’s a long story,” you say, shuffling past Anderson to hurry to the front of the bullpen. Spencer locks onto your face,. His hands fall into his lap. 

You’re wearing clear-rimmed glasses with metal legs that slip down your nose the closer you get, your makeup lighter than usual, and your clothes a repeat of what you wore yesterday, though he’s probably the only person who’d notice. He barely gives your rumpled blouse a second glance, too distracted by your hand, your fingers as you push the glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Is Hotch in yet?” you ask hopefully. 

“He’s been here since five,” Morgan tells you, double-taking when he spots your new accessory. “Oh my god, you’re adorable.” 

You raise a hand between you both to hide your face from his view. 

Spencer gets out of his chair. “I was really hoping he’d be late too,” you say, turning to Spencer with a gentle pout. “It’s like wishing to win the lottery, I guess.” 

Holy shit. He’s breaking a sweat. There’s heat gathering at the base of his neck, worse when you push the glasses up again, your eyes shiny and wide-pupiled behind them. “You’re wearing glasses,” Spencer says.

“Oh, I know, I kept that secret, huh? My left contact got all dried up and I figured I didn’t have time to mess around, so you’re forced to suffer me like this.” You put your hand bashfully under your chin, a cherub posing. “I look like an old lady.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“I do, I look aged.” You put your bag on the floor by his chair and brush your hands down your clothes. “Spencer, it’s hopeless. I look like I slept in it. Maybe my glasses are atrocious enough to distract everyone.” 

“They’re not atrocious, you look beautiful.”

He immediately breaks eye contact to stare at your shoulder. Why did I say that? he thinks. Why do I talk so much? Heat fills his cheeks in a matter of seconds, but he holds his breath rather than let it out, totally frozen. 

Emily’s laughing as you step forward, hand out to touch his arm. You tilt your head to one side and Jesus, he wasn’t lying, you make his heart stop just looking at you. “You think so?” you ask softly. 

You aren’t laughing. Spencer nods, a tight up and down. 

Your lips press together in a shy smile. 

“They’re both as bad as each other!” Emily whisper-shouts. 

“What’s the matter, Reid, cat got your tongue?” Morgan asks. 

You push your glasses up your nose again, still smiling to yourself, so Spencer doesn’t mind his humiliation. You don’t call yourself atrocious again. If anything, you glow.

[nonuify]

ᝰ.ᐟ — LSK ⟢ sex is a workout too

› nsfw is included ┆ smut — minors dni ꩜. word-count .ᐟ 1.1k. gymbro!seokmin x pilates princess!reader

stretching out your body on the pinkish-white that matched your leggings & top well for your liking.

you were doing your normal exercise every day routine, too lazy to go to the actual pilates studio, unlike your boyfriend who’d went to the gym for the zillionth time this week.

it was honestly so terrifying how fucking hot he had been when he hit the gym it’s like every day he’s getting buffer & buffer but you weren’t at all complaining, you were practically leaching on him every chance you’d got with him.

going back to your routine you’d changed your pose, to a more difficult one than the previous one.

going into a zone where your focused on relaxing so it would help you ease your body, just as you were beginning to feel more rested a ding chimed from your phone, you’d guessed it was probably seokmin telling you that he’ll be home in ten.

& of course you’d guessed right.

seokminnie 🪽 : hello to my loveliest girlfriend:p, just telling you I’ll be there in ten better welcome me with a hug ~~

you giggled at the way would always compliment you even if it was a bit dramatic.

you : okay mins ! I’ll be waiting, love you !!

seokminnie 🪽 : love ya more, pretty princess ;)

your smile growing more when he called you that, you kinda had a thing for him calling you princess & he sure damn well knows.

after that you’d gone back to your previous doings of exercising, loosing track of time as you’d always do when doing pilates, as seokmin always told you “your such a pilates princess, baby”.

not even hearing the door opening, you’d be too busy in your own world till you felt a gentle kiss on your cheek, turning to the side you’d see a hot sweaty seokmin, now you were not gonna lie when you said your pussy didn’t throb at his godly looking figure.

“o-oh hi seokmin! I didn’t see you there” you shyly smiled, leaving a light peck on his kissable lips.

“you and your exercises always caught up with it, princess” his big buffed arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so you both were chest to chest, sitting on the matt that you worked on.

“can’t help it when you go to the gym, & leave me all bored & alone” you mumbled back, playing with the hem of his shirt, mind getting all mushy thinking how he must’ve looked while working out.

“oh? all bored huh?, guess I can make you a little less bored can i, love?” he squeezed your hip lightly then going in for your neck peppering it with kisses then slowly but lovingly he’d move to your jaw then going back to your neck.

“s-seokmin stop” you whined but you didn’t actually want him to stop.

of course he ignored you, continuing to what he was doing.

“god these fucking leggings, you don’t know what you do to me, baby” he’d moved his hands down to your ass giving it a light squeeze then spanking it.

you were practically all wet down there, not wanting to waste anytime, you tugged your boyfriends hair then smashed your lips onto his, he gladly welcomed you deepening it even more.

with a fast motion he’d layed you on the pvc material that was on the cold floor.

moving his veiny hands down to your clit you grown more excited, fingers ghosting over your aching-wet cunt “seokie p-please” you called out really needy for his touch.

to very much your surprise, you heard a loud rip!, he had ripped both your favorite pair of leggings & panties but honestly you did not give a shit all that you wanted is to be pounded by him.

the air hit your bare dripping cunt leaving you gasping from the sudden contact.

“my sweet needy princess” he cooed lowering his head down there, hot breathed replacing with the once cold air.

rapidly you moved your hands tugging his blondish-hair, rolling his eyes he moved his slender digits down to your aroused hole, teasing your entrance then eventually pushing two fingers in & out of you.

it made you make quite lewd noises swiftly.

“always a needy slut for my fingers” he huffed out, while you just wailed from the pleasurable feeling.

while his digits were plunging in & out of you, he’d place some kisses here in there in your clit riling you up even more, “seokmini, stop t-teasing!” a pout formed on your lips.

quickening his speed, doing everything possible that could role your eyes such as parting his fingers, lightly tapping the right spots successfully, which obviously caused to close to riding your high.

pitching your loud moans, seokmin almost instantly knew you were close, he pulled out.

not to your liking you complained.

“need you to cum on this cock, princess” he placed a quick kiss on your soft-lips, before sliding his long-lengthy member into your cunt.

starting off slowly then fastening his pace in quite a rapid way, you held his shoulders for steadiness while practically echoing a series of ahh’s & moaning out your lovers name.

your wet cunt, clenching every-time he thrusted in you, with juices flowing out of the tightness of your & painting the softness of your thighs.

pussy fluttering when he rested both your legs on his wide-perfect shaped shoulders deepening his length in you, his cock was practically poking out of your tummy when he roughly hit all of your favorite spots.

you almost folding in half but you didn’t mind nor cared, all thanks to your well earned time & dedication to piltaes, you could be quite the flexible person & seokmin did not waste that advantage in fucking your brains out.

“everytime I fuck you out, your always so fuckin’ tight” he groaned out, while holding your thighs, landing kisses turned love bites on them, you bit your lips to the ungodly sight before you, seeing how he looked at your filled up cunt just made your mind go into a hazy mess.

“kyeommie!” another desperate moan left your lips as a knot formed inside of your stomach, which resulted in seokmin taunting you “oh my pretty princess is coming for kyeomie isn’t she” you on the other hand rested your elbow on your face enduring the overwhelming pleasurable moment that he was giving you.

next thing you’d know is your cock-filled hole gushing out spurts of cum, painting seokmin’s cock oh so beautifully.

shortly after that blissful moment, your well-built boyfriend returned to fucking his cock balls-deep in you but his pace getting sloppier by the minute, knowing his high was awfully near.

“m’gonna make you my little pussy-pocket, all covered with my cum” he threw his head as if in ecstasy, with the hot liquids of his seed filling you up with a little bit of it leaking out of you.

he soon enough joined laying on the floor beside you, as heavy breathes emerged from both of you, breaking the silence between you he said “guess we found a new workout to do” you giggled smacking his shoulder playfully, earning a cute pout.

as if he didn’t almost split you open a few minutes ago.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! [ divders by @/ cafekitsune. ] [ title creds to @/ straykidsstanforeverandever. ]

[liyawritesss]

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.

Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb

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It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.

He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).

So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.

“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”

And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.

Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.

He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.

Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.

Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.

“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”

“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”

“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”

Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.

It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”

The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.

“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”

Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.

“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”

It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.

A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.

“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”

The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.

“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”

Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”

It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.

Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.

“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.

The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”

Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.

“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.

The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”

“And when she do call?”

A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”

“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”

They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.

“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”

“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.

“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”

“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.

Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.

“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”

The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.

Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”

And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.

A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”

Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel. 

“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.

“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”

“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”

“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”

“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”

“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”

“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.

[mattybsgroupie]

assignment | matt sturniolo

contents: fwb; fingering (f receiving); boob sucking/nipple play (f receiving); (slightly) mommy kink; sub!matt

- ♡ -

notes: GOOD EVENING MY DARLINGS i wanted to apologize for the lack of sub matt. yes i was planning on posting cowboy!matt BUT i couldn’t resist his new glasses. and i might turn sub!nerd matt into a series. who knows. you've read the previous part, you know the deal. not proofread but enjoy anyways! love you guys so much, thankful for each and every one of you!

- ♡ -

i heard those same three rhythmic, now familiar knocks on my door. i already knew it was matt, always showing up earlier than what we agreed on. this time, i actually needed his help to record a video for an assignment our professor had given. i quickly got up from my bed, dragging my feet to the door and opening it.

i rested half of my body on the wood, tilting my head as i greeted matt with a smile. “you always show up earlier” i chuckled, letting him walk inside. matt seemed shy, as usual, but not so hesitant. “i mean, you called. of course i came” he said as he placed his books on my study table and left his backpack on the floor.

“you’re such a sweetheart, matt” i locked the door, making my way near him. i noticed that he froze with my statement, not quite sure of what to do. “have you finished yours already?”

“yeah, chris filmed it for me” he spoke, standing still on his feet while checking me out from head to toe. his eyes landed on the skirt i purposefully chose, the shortest i owned. it had plaid fabric and it could barely cover my thighs, let alone my ass. if i bent over, both my panties and ass would be on full display to him, along with my with white thigh highs. 

“good boy” i said as if it wasn’t that much of a big deal — as if he didn’t spend hours calling himself a good boy for me the last time he was here. “so, where do you think i should stay? do they care about light and stuff?” i asked, playfully posing. he snapped out of his trance and grabbed the cellphone from his pockets, mindlessly scrolling through the screen.

“no, not really” matt answered, cheeks flushed red. suddenly, he could no longer look me in the eyes, his blue orbs traveling to all the corners of my dorm. “wherever you’re comfortable, i guess”

i positioned myself and began to speak after he nodded, indicating my cue. i spoke what i had practiced several times, but having matthew staring at me like that made it incredibly difficult. i could feel the words vanishing from my brain as his blue eyes pierced through me, my palms becoming sweaty from the stress. i stuttered and that was enough to lose my line of thought, bringing both of my hands to my face, attempting to hide my mistake.

“no, you were doing great!” matt said, pausing the video and placing his phone on the table. he quickly got up from his chair, walking towards me.

“i'm embarrassed!” i blurted out, attempting to apologize beforehand.

“there’s no reason to be embarrassed. not a pretty girl like you” matt chuckled, his fingers touching my wrists and removing my palms from my face. now certainly my cheeks were flushed red — but i'd never let him know how deeply he affected me.

i took a deep breath, encouraged by his words, and adjusted myself again, finally managing to say what i had planned. after a while, i finished with a smile on my face, waiting for matt's signal, who once again gave me a nod. 

“yeah it's perfect— you're perfect” he smiled back, inviting me to sit next to him. “do you want me to… edit this for you?”

“would you do that for me?” i asked, my hand resting on his thigh. matt tilted his head, startled by the sudden touch, staring at me through his glasses. “yes, of course! anything for you!” a grin appeared on my face as i noticed how he shifted in his seat, trying to hide the growing tent under his jeans. 

“i like your new glasses, matt” i whispered, resting my elbow on the table and leaning my head against my hand, admiring how cute he looked when he was nervous. i could see his jaw clenched, his posture straight, the tiny drips of sweat that ran from his forehead to the shade of his newly shaved beard, his fingertips frantically typing something on my laptop, which he didn't even ask permission to open. he was trying so hard. 

“t-thank you” matt mumbled, still not looking at me in the eyes. i brought my free hand up to his cheek, my thumb gripping his chin and tilting his face towards me. matt's lips parted in awe and he gulped before letting out a deep sigh, staring at me through his lenses. “i like your... skirt” he confessed, ears burning with embarrassment.

“oh? this one?” i looked down, admiring my own legs crossed in an indecent manner in front of him. “what do you like about it?”

“just— how it fits” he wouldn’t take his eyes off of the white lace above my knees. “your t-thighs” he whispered. 

“do you miss 'em, matty?” i questioned, getting up from the chair and standing in front of him. i didn't loosen my touch, forcing matt to face my breasts, not sure where to look at. he gripped the corner of the table with one hand, pouring all his desperation and arousal into the old wood.

“yes, fuck.” matt nodded eagerly. “you just look so good”

“yeah? that’s why you came here for? to have another taste?” i teased, resting my hands over his shoulder as he clenched his thighs together in a failed attempt to hide his pathetic boner.

“no— i mean, yes!” he said, making me chuckle at his confusion. “just… just wanna be good for you. i’ll always do whatever you want me to” 

“oh, you poor little thing. whatever i want?” i asked one last time, finally getting closer to him. i put my thighs on each side of his body, gradually lowering my weight on his lap. matt sighed and immediately took his hands to my waist, groping my flesh. 

i smirked at his desperation and allowed my digits to wander across his face, brushing over his lips and tugging at his lower lip before reaching for his glasses, removing the frame and placing it on myself. the prescription wasn't too high, at least it wouldn't make me dizzy and i would be able to have some fun. 

matt seemed to enjoy the sight, feeling my breasts pressed against his chest and my ass rested on his thighs as i put on his glasses. i could feel his cock twitching in his pants, waiting for some relief, anything from me. 

“fuck” matt spoke as i brought his hands to the hem of my t-shit, granting him permission to remove it. he tossed the fabric somewhere around the room, leaving me with my ridiculously short skirt.

matt’s blue eyes widened after seeing my bare breasts for the first time — maybe it was the first time he had seen any boobs in person. “please, please, can i suck them?” he asked, shoving his face in between them while still waiting for my approval.

“go ahead” i cooed and he rapidly tilted his face, giving my nipple a long kitten lick. it was almost like he was back at my pussy, carefully analyzing the area and testing the waters, until he had the confidence to actually do something.

for a virgin, matt was way too good with his tongue. the muscle swirled around my hardened nub, his large hand groping my other tit as he whispered “thank you” over and over again.

matt wasn’t going to stop until i told him to, finally latching his lips around my nipple and starting to suck harshly, desperately, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth. my fingers tangled on his brown locks, a moan slipping from the back of my throat when he grazed his teeth on my sensitive skin.

“you wanna make me feel good, babyboy?” i asked amidst heavy sighs. matt didn’t stop sucking, looking up and nodding his head — but he knew he would have to use his words.

“yes mom-” matt stopped himself, realizing what was about to come out of his mouth. “yes” he repeated, hoping i wouldn’t have noticed.

“finish what you were saying” i commanded and he whined, embarrassed to speak the words on the tip of his tongue out loud.

“yes, mommy. wanna make you feel good” matt spoke, his messy hair, swollen lips and sweaty forehead making him even sexier. “but i d-don’t know how to”

“there you go. wasn’t so hard, was it?” i questioned rhetorically, removing the brown strands from his face. “i’ll teach you, sweetie. that’s what we’re for, right?” he nodded before lowering his hands to my ass, groping the flesh and opening my cheeks. 

one his hands managed to slip under my skirt, finally touching my soaked panties. he traveled his fingers across the fabric, trying to find my sweet spot. maybe he knew where it was, maybe he just wanted to tease me, but it didn’t take long until his digits brushed over my clit, making me gasp. he pulled my panties aside, just enough to get two of his fingers to stroke my pussy and play with my wet folds — how could he be so good?

i didn’t have to ask, he knew how much i needed him inside of me. my throbbing cunt rubbing against his jeans revealed my desperation, matt slowly bringing his middle finger to my entrance, circling it before pushing it inside.  

“good boy. now move slow for me, yeah? in and out of mommy” i praised, allowing him to start fucking me — but he was smarter than that. instead, he curled his finger inside of me, quickly meeting the sweet spot he’d been craving all along. “f-fuck! right there!” i moaned, throwing my head back when his thumb reached my clit.

it felt so good to grind my hips against his lap, frantically chasing for my orgasm as he pounded inside of me. “mommy, you- mhm!” matt whined, grabbing my attention. “you’re humping my cock mommy, it hurts so bad” he pleaded with needy, puppy eyes.

“didn’t you say you were gonna be a good boy for me?” i asked, starting to bounce on him. matt squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed with having to do so much at once.

“yes! ah— -i am!” he moaned, taking advantage of my distraction and slipping another finger inside. i groaned loudly as i felt the knot on my lower belly begging to be released. “mommy, ‘m gonna…”

“don’t be so fucking pathetic, matthew” i said one last time, suddenly feeling a different wetness under me that wasn’t mine.

matt came untouched.

i could feel my walls squeezing his fingers, my wetness leaking down his hand. this threw me over the edge, my orgasm washing over me as i panted heavily, my entire body trembling over him as the pleasure took over me.

i held his shoulders as i came back from my high, feelings his kisses across my breasts, going upwards to my neck and my face before matt removed his fingers off me, raising his hand to his mouth. matt sucked his own digits, having another taste of me and taking his glasses back so he could see how fucked out i looked. i sealed our lips together, silently thanking matt, who soon decided to hide his face on the crook of my neck.

“matt, look at me” i called after coming back to my senses, scratching his back. 

“i came in my pants” he mumbled, not being able to look at me. “‘m embarrassed”

“if you wanna know” i started, grabbing his attention. “i think it was really hot” i smirked at him, watching his cheeks becoming red once again. he looked down to see the huge wet patch in his pants, denying with his head.

“why don’t you finish editing the video for me” i lifted his face, both palms cupping his cheeks. “and when you’re done i’ll take care of you and the mess you made?” 

matt nodded eagerly. he wasn’t only a good tutor, but an excellent student.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @mattscoquette @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069 @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknot @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @karttpet

- ♡ -

[hysteria-things]

TOUR (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s been on tour for about a month, meaning he hasn’t seen or done anything with you in a month. he takes matters into his own hands when he’s finally alone, but he does need your help with it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, mentions underage drinking, swearing, male masturbation, overstimulation (kinda)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 830

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: umm guys i literally woke up to over a hundred notifications??? thank you SO much i didn’t expect this to happen at all. i’m having so much fun with this🥲

my notes app is COOKING right now and the ideas are ideaing. you guys and your support makes me low key emotional LMAO

i want to try and post once a day but i might do more than once sometimes instead because i am HYPE.

also conflicted if i should make a part two so let me know!

it’s friday night and you’re sitting in your best friend’s living room. the two of you and other close friends come together some weekends to hang out. you guys have been laughing, drinking (despite being underage by a year), watching TV, or playing games. in the middle of laughing, you feel your phone buzz repeatedly underneath your thigh. you lift your leg to retrieve it, seeing an incoming phone call from your boyfriend matt.

“hey, sorry. mind if i take this?” you ask the group, lifting your phone so they can see the screen.

“not at all.” your best friend smiles.

you get up from the couch. “thanks. continue the game without me.”

you speed walk to the bathroom and close the door accepting the call and bringing it to your ear. “hello?”

“hey.” he breathes out.

“hey, you.” you smile. “how are you doing?”

“fine,” he says. he’s silent for a beat before speaking again. “sorry i didn’t talk to you much today. it’s been busy, but we just finished the tampa show.”

you haven’t seen matt in over a month because he’s been touring with his brothers across the country. you couldn’t be more proud, but you guys miss each other like crazy.

“did you win?”

“damn right i did, baby,” he says hoarsely. he sounds a bit strange to you, but you shrug it off as exhaustion. doing shows almost every day can wear somebody out.

but oh boy are you wrong.

on the other line, matt sits on his bed in the tour bus with his hand wrapped around his dick. your recent post on instagram is displayed on his screen as you talk about your day on the other end, having no clue what’s happening.

the post consists of you posing, wearing a short navy blue dress. your tits practically spilled out of the top.

“…was crazy.” you finish. “anyway, is tour fun so far? it’s almost over already.”

“uh huh.” he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. he hisses, his movements gradually becoming faster. he’s sensitive, and it hurts so fucking bad. he needs to release, but only you have the power to make him come undone.

“matt? you okay? you sound off.” you ask concerned.

“keep talking, baby. i’m so close.”

you go to say something, but instead, press your ear closer to the phone. you hear shuffling and grunting. it doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out what he’s doing.

“you’re being risky, matthew.” you say teasingly, a whine escaping his lips. he prefers being called matt, but with you, matthew rolls perfectly off of your tongue. “where’s everybody else, hm?”

“at the store,” he says shakily, his hand pumping faster. he takes his thumb and twirls it around his red tip where pre-cum is threatening to spew out. “i need to cum so bad.”

“then do it, baby. pretend it’s me making you feel so good,” you say seductively, biting your lip as you hear his sounds of pleasure.

you get that familiar feeling in your core, but because you’re at a friend's, you’ll feel weird doing it in her bathroom.

guess you’ll have to wait until you’re all alone.

“fuck.” he whispers, stomach jerking. he thrusts up into his fist a few times to finish the job. he whines as he makes a mess all over his stomach and thighs.

he whines again, purposely trying to overstimulate himself. “matt, don’t overdo it. you’re too sensitive.” you say, knowing he didn’t stop because you can still hear the commotion.

“please.” he exhales. “one more.”

“hold on,” you reply, opening the camera app on the phone. you pull the straps down of your dress and pull out your boobs, pushing them together and snapping a picture. you know how much matt goes crazy over them. you send the photo, waiting for his reaction.

you bring the phone back up to your ear to hear a sigh of “holy fuck” fall from his mouth.

“i need to fuck your tits so bad.” he groans, throwing his head back as he tries to reach his second orgasm.

you bite your lip to hide your smile, enjoying this a little too much. the wet noises on the other line drive you insane.

“i’m gonna— fuck, i’m cumming.” he lets out a loud moan as he makes another mess, his dick red and swollen. he’s still not satisfied, because you’re not there. he continues pumping his cramped hand, but you and he both know it’s no use.

“matt, that’s enough.” you say sternly. “don’t do it too much, okay? it’ll hurt.”

he obliges, removing his hand and lying there. his breathing starts to slow, but he’s still panting. “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too.” you coo. “just a few more days, okay?”

“okay,” he mumbles.

you lied.

what matt doesn’t know is that you have a plane ticket for tomorrow, to fly out to ft. lauderdale for the last show.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing

[madschiavelique]

Hello! I saw your rules so I decided to I guess rerequest in the way you asked. I was wondering if you could write about a female reader coming in one day with a sundress and Miguel just goes absolutely feral. He’s just trying to keep it professionally but ends up failing and just going ham on the reader

OMG anon i'm kissing your brain hehehehe (summer is killing us all besties : please don't forget to hydrate yourself <3)

summary : miguel sees you in a sundress

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, fingering, biting and marking, this man is so in love with you, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, praise word count : 1,6k

Summer had arrived, and as in most dimensions, except for the apocalyptic two or three where everything was frozen or the weather had simply declined with little chance of a return, it was hot.

And although the air-conditioning was in every room and corridor of the spider society, that in no way prevented members from dressing a little more lightly, although some might find this a sign of a lack of professionalism, one in particular, needless to mention, whose name began with Mi and ended with Guel.

Today was a fairly hot day, and all the spiders were practically fighting for ice cubes, a spot of coolness that would bring them comfort. Many of them were dressed in shorts, a variety of shirts, t-shirts, skirts and even tank tops.

So you seized the opportunity and put on a summer dress. It was charming, in your favourite colour, not too long and not too short, stopping just above the knees, with a beautifully plunging neckline to show off your curves. It was light, incredibly comfortable to wear, and needless to say that in spider society, it was a change to see you like this.

Like most of the members, people were used to seeing you in your suit, or in civilian clothes that could be considered professional. But this dress? It was a little ray of freshness.

Miguel was chatting in the cafeteria with Jessica and Peter, all having a serious discussion that you were supposed to join. You entered the cafeteria, looking around for them.

"Oh, hey over here!" called Peter to you with a smile, "Oh. My. God. What's the occasion for you dressing like that?"

Miguel, who until now had been stubbornly focused on getting Peter to stand still for this meeting, huffed before turning his head and...

He became static, his breath caught, his eyes wide open as he watched you come towards him. All the others were oysters, and you were a pearl: the best of them all, the most beautiful, the purest.

You offered a gentle smile as you came closer, and his lips parted slightly as the gesture gave him the warmth of thousands of sunbeams.

"It's true that you look ravishing, cutie," Jess admitted as you sat down next to Miguel, facing the other two on the opposite side of the table. "What's the occasion?" she repeated after Peter's question.

"Yeah," said Miguel, clearing his throat as he straightened up and pretended to keep a straight face, "what's the occasion?

You gave them all a small, smiling laugh.

"Nothing in particular, I'm just trying to beat the heat," you said as you took your seat, "why? I shouldn't have?" The possibility that your attire might pose a problem in maintaining the balance of the multiverse hadn't occurred to you.

"No!" The strength with which Miguel denied this surprised you all.

He swallowed, his sentence had come out a little stronger and a little more involved than he had intended.

"No," he pulled himself together as he took on his usual grumpy tone that everyone knew well, "although it's a lack of professionalism, we're not going so far as to prevent your freedom of clothing in the Society."

Well caught up, he thought as he brought his glass of water to his lips. Around the table, he was the only one wearing his suit. Because it was made of pixels and produced by a refined technological composite, he didn't suffer from the heat. Jess was wearing a t-shirt and cycling shorts, Peter a shirt and trousers, and you your summer dress.

Jess and Peter exchanged a quick glance, a mischievous smile stretching across their lips. Most of the elite and close teammates knew about your relationship with Miguel, and although he wasn't always the most public about your relationship, he cared about you immensely, and they both could only imagine the effect you were having on him.

"So, what did I miss?" you asked.

Jess started to explain the situation, but Miguel wasn't really listening. His eyes were obviously riveted on you, and even when he tried to refocus on the conversation, his thoughts and eyes were redirected in your direction as if magnetised.

You were... radiant, beautiful, and... for a moment his eyes went down to the bench you were sharing: the skirt part of your dress was slightly pleated, exposing the skin of your slightly spread thighs, sinking into the space where your cunt was.

He suddenly had the urge to slide his hand over your soft skin, to press it between his fingers and see the bounce of it brimming over under the grip of his hand.

And your cleavage was showing your bare skin, and he wanted to kiss your neck, to nibble your collarbone as he kissed down to the hollow of your breasts...

Keeping his hands to himself was becoming complicated, every little movement you made, even if it was just to readjust your sleeve over your shoulder, was becoming intoxicating. How was it possible to become even hotter by wearing more clothes?

His professionalism really started to take a hit when your leg inadvertently brushed against his, a shiver running down his spine.

But he couldn't touch you here, there was no tablecloth at this cafeteria table that could conceal his desires.

How he longed to do it, even if it was just to touch your thigh with his fingers, to run his hands over your sublimely covered body and to-

"Miguel? Can you remind us about what the last reports stipulated considering the last anomaly?" asked Peter, bursting Miguel's thought bubble, "I can't remember it for the life of me, it must be the heat." he complained. "What do you guys say we postpone this meeting? I can't think straight no matter how many fresh cocktails i drink."

It was true that the glasses had accumulated on Peter's side. A sigh escaped Jessica's lips.

" I regret to say it, but I agree. We can't think properly with the temperature."

Tell me about it, thought Miguel. He didn't care about the temperature, the real distraction was you. He exchanged a glance with you, and you looked at him with a small smile, waiting for his answer.

"Good," he said, simply nodding. "I won't detain you, you can leave."

Peter let out a small chirp, he and Jess getting up from the table to leave. Once away, you turned to Miguel, tilting your head to the side in playful puzzlement.

"The great Miguel O'Hara closing a meeting like that? Summer really does have its magic."

If summer could let him see you every day in that outfit, he'd make sure it lasted forever. His eyes roamed your silhouette again, biting the inside of his cheek. His hand skimmed the side of your leg, hovering gently over it until he placed it on the inside of your thigh, pressing.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, his eyes returning to yours.

"I'm guessing you like the dress," you said more softly.

"Very," he replied simply.

His behaviour was becoming less and less... acceptable in public. So he took your hand and led you out of the cafeteria. Would he be able to wait until you returned to his quarters ? Probably not.

But he knew every nook and cranny of the building, it was his, so you passed down one corridor, then two, then three, until you came to an alleyway you'd never seen before, darkened by the lack of activity.

He glanced in each direction, then immediately came to press you against the first wall you came to, kissing you hungrily.

"That dress is going to be the death of me," he murmured as he came to kiss your cheek followed by your neck, his hands placed on your waist and thigh as he feasted on your skin.

His hand slid up your leg, gripping the warm skin of your thigh as you let out a moan. His fingers moved up your inner thigh almost hastily, unable to contain his need to touch you.

"You're so pretty," he breathed as he came back to kiss you, "all pretty for me, nena."

His fingers reached the fabric of your panties, your body arching. His fingers went under the elastic of the latter and down to your cunt.

"Tengo la novia más linda del mundo," he whispered, kissing the back of your neck, tracing the line of your pulse as he made circular movements around your clit. "Such a beautiful body," he inserted a finger inside you, making you whine softly, "such a beautiful voice," your wetness was starting to stick to his hand. "And it's all mine."

With his other hand, he shifted the short sleeve of your dress, exposing more of your shoulder and placing soft pecks on it. His lips caressed your skin, and his fangs grazed it as he added a second finger.

He was curving his fingers in a sublime way, the strokes combining perfectly with the undulations he was making and hitting the perfect spot.

He kissed the skin of your shoulder, sucking it until it left a bluish mark.

"All mine," he repeated in a murmur as he ran his tongue over the mark he'd just made.

Your moans multiplied, breath hitching, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm, the hot cloud in your lower belly and back spreading.

"Come nena, let me see your pretty face when you do," he said, kissing you a little before pulling back and watching you with his drunken eyes.

You came, your legs all wobbly as Miguel's hand came to rest on your back to keep you upright. He kissed your temple and forehead, calming you gently.

"You're a dream," he said, covering the mark he'd left on your skin with your sleeve as you trembled, only he was aware of the hold he had over you.

Needless to say, from that day on in the summer, the air-conditioning became suspiciously faulty, because he had every intention of seeing you wearing that dress again.

[sminiac]

Heyy can we get soul bf if not its okay i really live your intak,theo and keeho ver.

⋆ Haku Shota + Reader

💌 — Of course I can my sweets! Thank you sm <3!!!

Bf!Soul who buys you the silliest gifts whether he’s travelling or not, the type to see ads of utterly ridiculous items that would have no practical value to it and still put them into his cart without hesitation and giggles to himself when handing the package to you when it comes in, wouldn’t say a word even if you repeatedly ask him what it is, just sits and waits patiently for you to open it.

Ex: Sometimes he even goes out of his way to buy you matching accessories, but sometimes it’s the most absurd looking thing you’ll ever see. Also yk how he has 2 custom rings of his dogs? He’d 100% get custom pieces for the two of you, the design pertaining to something that only you and him understand! Would also get a few pieces with your initials engraved in the back, another little secret only you’d know about.

Bf!Soul who doesn’t like messaging you when he’s away, he absolutely will when there’s no other option but he’d much rather hear your voice, and he makes sure to tell you too! “I just missed hearing you talk to me that’s why I called, it makes me feel better, you know?” He’d also send you little texts throughout the day to keep you updated on where he is, what he’s doing, but they’d never be in great detail, you’d look down randomly at your phone and there’s just: “Baby I ate a bug!!” and “Walked head first into a pole >ヮ< I’m okay I think”

Ex: He’d also frequently tell you “I miss you” but every time he’d explain why, and it would almost always be a different reason each time :,)

Bf!Soul who is such an affectionate person, hugs and kisses given to you for the smallest reasons, you open something for him? You’re suddenly being smothered in kisses, they’re so quick and gentle that before you know it he’s pulling away like he didn’t just leave you blinded and dizzy from his lips. Also the type to hug you unexpectedly, just slowly raises his arms leaving his chest open until you get the hint and pull yourself into him, the same with holding your hand, but instead he’d keep reaching, pulling, trying to dig his fingers to his designated spot between yours.

Bf!Soul who builds you the cutest, most aesthetic buildings you’ve ever seen in your shared Minecraft world, the amount of time and effort he’d put into making everything pretty for you is insane. Takes care of your cats, dogs, and other random plethora of animals when you’re offline, would also leave you random little signs with messages on them for you to find whenever you’re active again, sometimes they’re just silly nonsense, others you’ll find really cute ones of him just completely gushing over you.

Bf!Soul who I feel like is so “Guess what Y/n did?” To his members, a constant yapper about you, if you’ve done anything to your hair recently, that one makeup look you did, that outfit you wore, that thing you said, everything and anything he’s constantly connecting to you and then he just has to tell everyone!

Bf!Soul who lets you do anything you want to him, he’s just pure putty in your hands! You want to put his hair in cute pigtails again? He’s already finding a spot between your legs so you have easier access to his head. You want to see him in a certain outfit? He’s laying out all of his options for you to pick from, and he doesn’t complain even one bit throughout the process.

Ex: Small spontaneous photoshoots happen quite often with this, does so many poses for you, even refers to you as his ‘pretty photographer’ when crediting you in the caption of his posts for taking the pictures of him.

Bf!Soul who would request of you to send your favourite songs to him just so he can make a freestyle video for you :,)

Bf!Soul who I feel like puts an incredible amount of effort into conveying his love for you, he really appreciates someone who can even help him, whether that’s guiding him into the words he can’t seem to find or just simply being patient with him. Likes cuddling into you while you play with his hair as he rambles on and on about you, what you mean to him, how lucky he must be to have found someone so reactive to his energy that not a lot of people can match in the way he feels is genuine. When he has the time he really gets into the details about how he feels, the emotion behind it, I feel like he’d really like the deep, touching talks late at night where everything just pieces together right in front of his eyes thanks to your presence, your kind heart. He could talk to you for hours, things are just easy with you.

[goldsbitch]

That one Bologna drive

part 2 to That one Christmas flight (strongly recommend reading that one first! made me so happy you guys liked this one, so let's continue!)

summary: They were suppose to not look for each other. So of course they didn't.

warnings: crushing hard, swear words I guess, typos probably

PS: y'all gonna hate me

Lando really wanted to keep his promise not to search for her online. He enjoyed the mystery and the option to keep this little encounter as a nice "why if". Until he didn't.

With the only information he had being her first name and the fact she was a student at Bologna university his private burner account was truly burning up. He must have seen every account of the current Bologna alumni. It was strange being on the other side of these pseudo stalker fan games. There were moments where he deactivated his account, to stop him from doomscrolling. And then there were nights when he did nothing but that.

He was fed up with the emptiness and shallow lifestyle that followed him. His friends were surprised, when he started to carry classical literature books with him. Since he hated those looks, decision to really keep all of this to himself had been made. It felt like a pose sometimes - he did not have to prove anything to anyone, he was fine as he was. But a strange feeling of wanting something more is hard to navigate when the life around you seems dead set in the current ways.

Weeks passed by with his eyes fixed on one moment in particular. The Imola Grand Prix. It felt like a cruel joke when he realized this circuit was a mere hour away from Bologna.

Lando was not sure if he was supposed to be proud or scared when finally found her account. At this point, it was hard to find a better expert on the social life of that university town. But it would be a massive lie, if he said he did not sprint up from his chair when he saw her in one of her friends insta story. Tagged.

He nearly DM'd her about 20 times. But, this was not the way it was supposed to feel. No. It seemed like a way better plan to ride up to Bologna and hang out at what seemed to be her favorite cafe / bar in the centre. If it was meant to be, he would run into her and it could all be called a second lucky accident.

He had an average start of the season. Maybe Imola would bring him luck one way or the other.

//

His plan was to ride up there the evening after his first practice - then the team debrief dragged until late hours. He hit the wall on the second day - his team made sure he went through all and every medical check up, no matter how much he protested. Then there was this and than that and suddenly he realized the only possible evening would be the Sunday one. He requested the latest flight him team would allow.

Finishing fourth felt like a joke, even though it was his best finish this season. Missing the podium by a mere second was a cruel of a metaphor.

Once he managed to run through all his duties, exhausted as truly was, he hit the road.

Within a half an hour, he was in what seemed her most favorite cafe, sitting on a bar stool, ordering a glass of white wine.

She was nowhere to be found. His heart jumped when her friends came in and sat outside, lighting their cigarettes. Lando waited. He had to laugh at himself, pathetic as he was right now. By his luck lately, she was probably in her bedroom sleeping, or worse - on a date with some Italian fuck boy. Going up to her friends and asking was absolutely not an option - he wanted to surprise her, not scare her and creep her out.

He left the bar after one hour for a stroll around. He walked around the lively square filled with young people sitting on the ground and having the time of their life, the one he saw hundreds of times on his screen. Who knew, maybe she'd be around somewhere. Jealousy swept over him, envying those who were fortunate enough to keep her company right now at this very moment. After one hour he was back for a second glass. But this time he heard his name being called loudly immediately as he stepped inside. All of his tired muscles tensed up in disbelief. And to continue with the theme of pure luck - it was an ordinary fan. The surprised guy with a Mercedes t-shirt insisted on a photo and signature. Lando smiled, signed and went back to his car.

He probably needed this closure.

//

Y/N was a person who prided herself on her principles. So when she and the mystery boy from that Christmas flight agreed upon not looking each other up, she kept herself away from doing so. Exam season and university life got in the way, providing a great distraction.

Only when she went on a date with what seemed to be a lovely French physics student, she allowed herself to think back to her encounter with Lando. That's when her internal facade fell apart. She spent the whole date imagining Lando would appear. He'd sit at a different table, right in her view, and then once her date would go on the toilet, they'd run away like little kids would do. They'd sit in a local park and laugh while sharing a bottle of wine. She knew he was somehow famous. He heart crushed at the thought that she was probably overshadowed by girls way prettier than her.

And then, on a random afternoon during a first study session the weather allowed her and her friends to spend outside, in one of the university gardens, one simple conversation she accidentaly overheard from the people sitting nearby, caused her to loose the last chance of keeping the meeting with Lando intact.

"Yeah, Lando Norris. Way hotter than Leclerc, I must say."

"I still don't understand why you love formula 1."

"They just know how to sell the story."

Surely, they were not talking about Lando. "Sure, there must be thousands of well known people called Lando," Y/N replied to her own question.

She took this as a sign, gave up on her principles and went full ballistic on her research. Downforce, penalties, the teams history, qualifying, chequered flag.

Since she was so deep in, keeping her obsession to herself as she had no idea with whom she could possibly share this, she might as well ask her mom for tickets money. The idea that she knew that he was just an hour away and she would miss that was simply not on the table.

Formula 1 race in an event meant for groups of friends to share their passion. So sitting there on the stand alone felt a little bittersweet. She made sure to push down any thoughts about seeing him up close again, let alone talking to him. It was something that half of the people present would try to do. And risking having him look through her, or worse - not remembering her - was not something she wished to live through.

But she cheered for him, she really did. Anytime he passed around her stand she got up, she watched him on the screen during interviews and when it became clear, he would have his best result of the season so far here at Imola, she celebrated with all those around her. Feeling proud that he was doing good. There was an electrifying energy in the air which could not compare to the times she watched races in her room on her laptop. If he had been standing near to her, she knew he would say something to beat himself up for missing a podium. And if she was standing next to him, she would tell him that he is an idiot and should also celebrate.

He looked a bit off during the interviews. Probably the crash few days ago. Y/N stayed sitting there just a bit longer than an average fan would.

Probably to avoid traffic...

part 3

______________________________________________________

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @superlegend216

[wellofdean]

how can a show be about hatred of women when there are no women in it who are important that aren't doomed by the narrative? now misogyny is for men? supernatural hates and kills women, and you want to claim that that the misogyny is towards the men? god forbid women do anything i guess.

You know what? Your unwillingness to own your opinion publicly and your tone notwithstanding, this is actually a good question, anon. You are referring to this post, I think.

Misogyny in its simplest definition is hatred of women. For me, though, that definition feels a bit too narrow and a bit too gender essentialist. As a rejector of gender essentialism, I would broaden that definition to say that misogyny is the hatred of that which is seen or understood as feminine, or all the things that appear to exist on that side of the binary -- man over woman, logic over intuition, rationality over emotionality, etc. The things on the feminine side are weak, irrational, soft, untrustworthy, dangerous.

I like philospher Kate Manne's take on it -- she calls misogyny the enforcement arm of the patriarchy in her excellent book Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny, arguing that misogyny (like racism) is not about personal feelings, it's “a social and political phenomenon with psychological, structural, and institutional manifestations”, and it's mission is to maintain the status quo of gender hierarchy. Misogyny operates as patriarchy's "police force" to enforce gender roles, punishing those (usually women) who deviate from them, and keep everyone (again, usually women) in their rightful places, and while obviously misogyny is directed at women, and this is the topic of Manne's book, I would argue that if women under patriarchy have a place to be kept in, so do men, whose deviation is, in some ways, even more threatening to the status quo.

I said in my post that the overt misogyny directed at women in Supernatural is cartoonish and ridiculous and feels too obviously stupid to be unintentionally placed there, and amounts to a depiction rather than a replication or approval of it. Meanwhille, Dean's masculinity is often just as cartoonish. He's practically play-acting Fonz Solo when he shows up at Sam's in his daddy's big leather jacket and muscle car. However, while Dean does performatively pose as the ultimate man's man and womanizer, leering at college girls and cheerleaders and even Sam's girlfriend, when he is actually called upon to interact with a woman who is not troped to the gills with hot girl stereotypes or posing for Sam's benefit, he is very consistently nothing but respectful and does no leering whatsoever.

Meanwhile, though Sam is too cool and urbane for the leering, he is lying to Jessica about his life and his family, which endangers her and gets her killed, while Dean, we learn soon enough, told Cassie everything the minute he thought he was in love with her. Dean play acts misogyny, but Sam is the one infantilizing his woman. And, even though Dean spends a lot of energy aggressively big upping his man-cred, the fact is that he is the intuitive, emotional one, and he plays an undeniably feminine role in his family. He's John's partner, Sam's mother. He's the one who wants to hold the family together for the sake of love.

All of this is in the FIRST SEASON. Watch it again. Think about the way Sam only agrees in the end of episode 1 to go with Dean after Jessica gets classically fridged, so Sam gets called to his hero's journey. Think about how Dean went to his brother, vulnerable, alone and afraid, needing help, and how, in the end, Sam's acceptance of their quest is not an acceptance of Dean at all. Think about how Sam is a direct mirror to John who has deserted Dean at the time the story begins. John wants Dean to submit himself to John's will, but he treats Dean with scorn, and respects Sam, who refuses to do so. Think about how trope-loaded Mary's white nightgown and Jessica's skimpy tomboy/girlish and self-consciously cute briefs and smurf crop-top are -- how what is being killed when they both die is symbolic mother/modern-twist on maiden (or whore?) femininity, which sends John and Sam on a revenge quest, and about how Dean DID NOT CHOOSE to be on that journey; he was DRAFTED.

The final episodes of the season make Dean's role explicit when he pleads with Sam and John for family, for love; tells them they are all he has, and Azazel, possessing John, praises Dean for being the one who keeps them together, who always looks out for their family, and think about what a knife to the heart it is that that's how Dean knows that John is possessed: his real father would never value those things about him. He'd think they were too soft, too feminine.

If you watch Supernatural from the beginning, keeping an eye out for every time Dean is feminized or someone (often SAM!!) drags him by impugning his masculinity (I think @ilarual is doing a tally of this? Or someone else?) it's really hard to unsee once you start noticing it: Dean is subjected to misogyny ALL THE TIME, and he subjects himself to it -- pushing down all his softer feelings until all he has is anger and fear -- it's the kind that tells him that he's isn't man enough.

Like, can you not see that a saying 'Supernatural kills female characters' ergo it is a misogynist story is just...too blunt an instrument? Supernatural kills women, and it also kills and tortures men. Is there misogyny in it? ABSOLUTELY. Misogyny is a deep vein running through absolutely everything in it, but most of that misogyny is THE REASON TO TELL THE STORY. The fact that it is a story ABOUT MEN is not misogynist in and of itself, particularly when it is so critical of what men become and and are forced into by hegemonic masculinity. For my money, Dean is intentionally and thoroughgoingly queered from the off! It is no accident. It would be difficult to do that as completely as they do without it being part of the actually DNA of the story.

WHICH IT IS.

And PS. the fact that you think none of the women in SPN are important is pretty misogynist of you.

[jnginlov]

i love you, again

your boyfriend has a bit of an endearing habit when he gets drunk and after a stressful day you couldn’t be happier to hear it

⇀ pairing s.coups x reader

⇀ genre fluff, slight hurt/comfort (but just the comfort)

⇀ style one-shot/blurb

⇀ word count 1.6k

⇀ warnings drinking (reader has wine, cheol is drunk), talk of being stressed, food, so sickly sweet

⇀ reactions from the gc “You love me so much🥹this was perfect”

note i wrote this MONTHS ago for syd and i guess myself cause i had the shittiest week known to man (ignore the formatting idk why i was writing with capitalization bleh)

Seungcheol wasn’t known to be a lightweight, especially compared to some of his other band mates, but there were certainly times when he’d gotten past the point of making sense. You predicted that tonight might be one of those when he’d texted you that he and the boys were all going out to celebrate the end of their incredibly successful promotions for their latest comeback. Usually he might invite you to tag along, as many of the members enjoyed bringing their partner along, but he knew you’d had a tough day, the kind only recovered from by alone time, so he had let you know where they were all going and that he’d probably be home a bit late, and you were honestly a bit thankful that you would have the entire apartment to yourself for the next few hours at least. You loved your boyfriend, but honestly if you had to interact with another person face-to-face for very much longer before you had your personal decompression time, you might just break down.

So, when you get home you move as slowly as you feel like, pouring yourself a glass of wine, running a bath with your favorite bubble mix, that you remind yourself to thank your boyfriend for restocking earlier in the week, and ordering your favorite comfort food to be delivered just before your skin would start to wrinkle in the water. Once you’ve settled onto the couch with your food and pulled up your favorite movie you can already feel that most of the day has melted off your shoulders.

As the movie ends you check your phone for the first time since you've gotten home, there are a few notifications from your friends and a couple messages from Jeonghan. You two are certainly friends but he’s not really a casual texter so you’re slightly confused until you notice the images he’d attached.

The first picture is just Seungcheol, a candid of him laughing at something one of the other boys must of done or said. He was always better at taking those aesthetic boyfriend pictures of Cheol than you were, but you like to blame it on the years of practice he had before you even knew either of them. The second picture is obviously from later in the night, and you notice that it was only sent a few minutes ago. There are several empty glasses in front of your boyfriend, and you can spot at least three empty soju bottles, but most notably he is very cutely posing for the camera, a blush dusting his cheeks as he pouts his lips.

You giggle as you reply to Jeonghan with a quick and simple laughing emoji before you place your phone back next to you on the couch and set up for your second movie of the night. You don’t feel a buzz next to you for the entire first act of the film, Jeonghan often not responding unless he has something else to say, but just as the main character is starting to reach the peak of their conflict your phone lights up with a call from your likely very drunk boyfriend.

You answer as soon as the movie is paused, smiling gently as you say, “Hi Cheolie.”

You hear his muffled giggle on the other side of the line before he replies with a drawn out, “Hiiii.”

“What’s up?” you ask, knowing that he must have called you for a reason.

He giggles again, although this time he forgets to cover the microphone and you can hear the tinkle of his laugh as clearly as your phone speaker will allow. His giggles always had the same effect on you, feeling light stream between your ribs as butterflies brush against your stomach. Instantly the rest of the tension you’d been holding in your body seems to melt away, swallowed by the love struck smile your boyfriend has to be wearing on his face based on the way his next few words come out.

“Hmm, I want to tell you something.” He says it lightly and you’re starting to realize how gone he must be. You can faintly hear the muffled sounds of the bar he’d been at for the past several hours but you figure he must have stepped out of the main room, if not all the way outside, because the background sounds don’t cover his words at all. “Can I tell you something?”

“You know you can tell me anything,” you reply quickly, telling the truth even though you’re familiar with the secret he’s about to spill.

Every few months, once your boyfriend has gotten sufficiently inebriated, his memory will seem to fail him and he will forget how far you’d gotten into your relationship. This means that wherever he is, whatever he is doing he will suddenly have a burst of longing for you and will need to “tell you something”. This something is always along the lines of how much he loves you but he will treat this fact, that you already know and had probably heard him tell you at least five times that day alone, as though it’s a new confession. The other boys think it’s funny but you find it adorable that the man you love returns your feelings so strongly that he basically can’t keep them to himself even if he’s not sure you two are even in a relationship.

You hear Seungcheol take a deep breath through the phone before he says, “Okay but it’s really important.”

You chuckle lightly in admiration and try to control your smile as you reply. “Would you rather do it in person?” you ask, never having this happen with him over the phone. Usually this would happen when you were together drinking, so although you’d had a glass of wine earlier you were certainly more sober than you’d been any other time he’d done this.

“No!” he practically shouts in response. “I’m too nervous,” he responds quietly, although his words are slurring together and so you almost don’t hear him.

“Okay,” you say fondly, your own smile no longer able to be fought off by your self control. “I’m listening,” you reassure him as another chuckle slips past your lips.

He takes a pause and you almost wonder if he’s going to not say it. Maybe you misread the situation and he is actually telling you something that you’d rather hear in person. You feel a bubble of doubt form in the bottom of your stomach, itching with nerves as you wait for your boyfriend to stumble through his next words.

As soon as he’s opened his mouth you feel that bubble pop and the itching is replaced with warmth as he, as clearly as he can with all the alcohol running through his system, says, “I love you.” It’s a firm statement, said with the tone of a fact but the way you can practically feel Seungcheol’s tension radiating through the phone almost makes it feel like a question.

“I love you too,” your reply rolling off your tongue as easy as every time you say it to him but never losing any of the tenderness you hold for your lover.

Seungcheol suddenly releases a breath on the other end of the line and you can almost hear his lips stretch into the loving smile he always gives you after hearing those words.

The next few moments are filled with comfortable silence and you’re almost afraid to break it before you ask, “When are you coming home?”

This seems to almost bring him back for a moment as he must be remembering that, not only is this not the first time he’s told you he loves you but, he shares an apartment with you, where he gets to go to bed with you every night and wake up to you every morning. You’re patient as you wait for him to catch up and you almost feel bad for ruining his romantic alcohol related fantasy until he has suddenly come back to reality.

“Right now,” he says with an urgency, and you can hear him open the door that had separated him from the commotion of the main room. “I want to hold you,” he adds as a sort of explanation and you faintly hear the sounds of Jeonghan calling your boyfriend’s name.

“I’m all yours,” you reply with a light giggle, shaking your head as you get up to move to the bed, turning off your forgotten movie and packing your leftovers for the fridge.

“Wow,” he breaths out faintly in disbelief causing you to let out another giggle.

“I love you,” you remind him, partly just to hear him sigh in that lovestruck way he does when he’s in this mood. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” you add and you can hear him drop something or bump into something as all the other boys groan at him and you laugh.

“I love you too, bye,” he says quickly as you can hear the boys starting to hound him about what he’s doing before he hangs up.

As you bring the phone away from your ear you notice how different you feel from when you first got home and even from just before your boyfriend called you. The stress from your day had dissipated almost completely and you almost forgot that you’d originally wanted to spend your night alone. So as you get comfortable in bed, and wait for your sweet Cheol to join you, you make a mental note to allow yourself to enjoy your boyfriend’s healing energy when you might feel like isolating again.

↼ misc masterlist

[idiswhadidis]

𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾

pairing ⚝ best friend jungwon x fem. reader 𓂅 genre ⚝ fluff, best friends to potentinal lovers 𓂅 warnings ⚝ none 𓂅 wc ⚝ 0,6k

a/n well who would have thought i'm back from the dead wohoo

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

to be a nail tech was always your biggest dream. and your number one supporter Jungwon, also called your bestest friend, was how can you say this nicely? your labor rat <3

and to be a certified nail tech you have to practice a lot on puppet hands and on real life models. soo, who could be a better model than him?

so here you both are at 10pm on a saturday in your house, sitting on these damn chairs for two hours almost finished with one hand. too bad that a human got two which means another two hours of work are on your way which also means minus two hours of Jungwons life span. but hey you always promise him to pay for the ordered food and to go to every of his football matches.

“okay i think, i think one hand is done..”

breaking Jungwon out of his trance watching tv, “wait for real?” bouncing his legs excitedly, “yes, look how good it looks”, making him look at his nails feeling the sass cause of the long ass length, he makes the slay pose “you nailed it my queen” making you laugh and blush “alrighty let's order food i’ll guess the usual right?” he nods, standing up and cracking his back.

he walks to the couch ready to sit down to gain the energy he needs for the other hand lord help him, the time where you begged him to be your model he couldn’t say no, not to the girl he deeply loves. he would do everything for you, the compromise of ordering food on your costs were your idea but going to his football matches were his. you’re his lucky charm. 

flopping down on the sofa stretching your limbs letting out an exhausted yawn, making Jungwon look at you patting his thigh, signaling you to lay down, not thinking twice you lay your head like he offered onto his thighs. he strokes your hair out of your face making you sigh in comfort closing your eyes. 

“you did really good and it takes you less time to complete one hand”, “yeah at the beginning it took me like five hours for one hand like damn i got much better”, making him smile proudly “ but i really have to thank you, without your sacrifice of time to be my model i wouldn’t be that good”, ”always, princess.”

15 minutes later the doorbell rings making you jump up running to the door ready to devour food. “i will literally never get enough of fries” speaking with your mouth full, looking like a chipmunk making him laugh “i know, i will never ever forget that night were Jake held a party were we got drunk as fuck and went to the in-n-out and you flirted with the cashier to get free fries” “and it literally worked” making a finger gun.

after dinner you got back to work practicing on his nails, and him being distracted watching a movie, making you steal glances at him from time to time. mesmerized by how handsome he is, really blessed by aphrodite herself.

“you know..” he suddenly says, making you look up, him still looking at the tv “i want another compromise..” blinking, another compromise? ready to ask, he beats you to it “let me take you out on a date.” he suddenly turns his head looking right into your widening eyes. you're at a loss for words, your bestest friend aka long time crush aka unconfirmed boyfriend asks you on a date? slap me across the face dear heavens, taking too long to answer he says  “or don't you want me as a model anymore?” making you gasp quietly shaking your head “fuck yes, of course i will let you take me on a date.”

[emilsgrippers]

Today, TDI Tumblr, I’ve come to rant about Alejandro and how YOU GUYS TREAT HIM.

This is Alejandro. (And his girlfriend Heather, say hi Heather)

Alejandro is 18, allowing him to just BARELY pass as a young adult. Despite him still being so young, he is often sexualized due to his looks and personality.

This is not cool.

Most of his fans who sexualize him in this way will alter his personality to further push the typical Spanish lover stereotype onto him (I’m aware this is what he’s based on), however, he’s more than that!

He’s very intelligent, and he’s good at mostly everything. He’s not just Spanish lover who takes his shirt off and dips you while holding a rose inbetween his teeth.

In Alejandro’s lore, he has two brothers, José and Carlos. Carlos is the oldest, José is the middle child, and Alejandro is the youngest.

Little is known about Carlos, but José is well known, and Alejandro rants about him on a few occasions. He explains how José pretty much bullied him his whole life, by punching him in the arm and calling him something he hates being called ‘Al’.

Since it went on for..his whole life, and even resumed when we see José in TD:AS, it’s easy to deduct that his parents do nothing to stop this.

Now, Alejandro was always kind of the lesser brother, if that makes sense. José was always better, always more, always just overshadowing him in a humiliating manner.

So, Alejandro was taught to use his looks to get what he wanted, since, with José around, it was really all he had going for him. (That’s another part of why he doesn’t eat any junk food).

Hence why he manipulated half off the TDWT cast and then revealed himself to have sinister intents to eliminate everyone else. Of course he only wanted to win, but, do you want to guess why he wanted to win so bad?

To prove he was better than José!! Wow!! Before his tie breaker with Cody, Alejandro , in the confessional, says something about José at home seeing him tie with someone like…Cody. Alejandro says José will already have his insults ready before face palming sadly.

that’s just a quick debrief ^_^

Now! Thats everything about him really. But here’s what the fandom reduced him too

“Daddy? Sorry Daddy?” “He could get it!!” “I could take him (not in a fight)”

I’ve seen all of these commented on Alejandro posts…yikezzz…

Now, does he look good? Yeah, he does! (But Blaineley is right there) But not to the “I need to sexualize him and drawn him in lewd poses, positions and outfits!” Kind of way. Remember, he’s just 18.

(“18= adult so!!—“ he’s just 18)

And mostly everyone else just gives him the “mi amor” treatment.

He calls her ‘mi amor’ ONCE. During the world tour finale, and that makes sense considering it’s between a heartfelt confession and a make out session. He never carries her bridal style while calling her mi amor. He does do countless loving things for her, like using the immunity idol to have her eliminated!

But carrying her in his arms and calling her mi amor never happened. It never happened with..ANYONE? He holds Heather bridal style for one challenge..where she was a bride.

He would NOT call you Mi amor, guys. Maybe carry you? But he’d call you by your name. Maybe a nickname? But not Mi amor. ‘If he did it once—‘ in between a heartfelt confession and a make out session does he ever just see her and go “hi mi amor… *wink..!” NO he doesn’t

Also!! He’s not a CREEP.

I see so many people say “he probably rewinded (whatever episode Heather accidentally lost her top in) so many times 🫣” no I don’t think he did..!

That’s a double whammy! Why sexualize one (practical) minor…when you could sexualize two?!!!

Plus it’s just gross..it’s disgusting what you’re implying by saying he rewinds it all the time.

In conclusion, I’m gatekeeping him and you need to bring me a legal document proving you’ll be aloud to use him in any bit of media from now on. Using his name is now prohibited unless what it says above comes into account. Thank you

[superblysubpar]

thank you so much for requesting @retrosabers soooooooooooooo...idk what this is. but it turned into a makeup sex, kind of angry with steve, to I guess, the beginnings of the "How Sweet It Is AU" for me?? - you could just read this as stand alone smut, but please read the warnings below if you're unfamiliar with that AU and don't want a pretty big surprise at the end!

2,119 words

warnings: mentions of wearing Steve's boxers, SMUT (piv intercourse - creampie, angry/makeup sex & all the language and actions that may go with it - some kingish steve vocabulary if you will)| pregnant reader announcement - see How Sweet It Is AU warnings for more | my blog is 18+

Late Summer, Early Fall, 1986

Your fingers slip from his neck and shoulders, sweat slicked tan skin there making the bright red of the scratches you made brighter. Angrier. 

They match the mood -  the deep lines between his brows, the pout of your lips, the brutal punch of his thrust inside of you, the clench of your jaw so you don’t do something satisfying like scream his name or fuck, say sorry. 

Neither of you can remember what started it now. You said something bratty, he said something even more so. Sharp tones and stressful weeks. Cupboards and drawers with volume and slams worthy of a battle of the bands. Silent tooth brushing while glaring at one another in the mirror sessions, and purposeful, childish things, like making only enough coffee for one cup each morning.  

Not that you had even wanted any today. 

The sun was brutal, the AC was busted, and Steve had found you lying on the hard kitchen floor, practically naked, and sipping something out of a blue, glass mason jar that was sweating more than you. 

He’d swallowed at the sight of your stomach and arms fully on display, the curve of lace over your chest, his boxers rolled over your thighs too high to be decent if you stood. Perhaps Steve could have taken the gesture of you wearing next to nothing as a white flag, but all he could think about was how hot he was, how tight the tie was around his neck, and how he was mad at you for a reason he didn’t even remember. 

Steve stepped over to the thermostat and without opening your eyes you called, “No difference.”

“When’s the last time you checked?” He grumbled under his breath, tapping at it with a roll of his eyes. “No difference.”

“Right,” you propped up on your elbows, glaring at him as you snapped, “Like I just said.”

He looked right at you for what felt like the first time in years, when really it had only been a day or two. But the sight of eyes that were honey turned hard, though just as sticky as they lingered on your own, had something in your chest warming. 

Steve glanced down at your body again as he yanked at his tie, throwing it on the counter before taking on his naturally annoyed position of hands on his hips. His fingers flexed against them while his head tilted in a way that exposed his throat more, made it easy to follow his swallow or the bead of sweat curving down his jaw. It made you want to curse whatever god created this man, and that was before he opened his mouth with a tone bitchy enough to match his pose. 

“Can you put a shirt on?”

The bite of his question made your eyes narrow, made you stick out your peachy, lace covered chest more just to spite him. His gaze returned to yours, challenging, fire burning between you both making his gaze molten - pure lava that was sure to consume you before you even had the thought of running from it. 

You stood as he harshly unbuttoned the white button down he was dressed in, revealing dark chest hair and the gold chain nestled there, both threatening to make you fold first, but you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. 

His finger’s movements slowed as they worked at the cuffs when you set your glass on the counter. As you took a step closer, then another, you both refused to break eye contact until your chests were almost touching and your chin tipped up at him in your own challenge back. 

“Make me.”

The space between your lips buzzed, his cupid’s bow mocking you, the heave of your chest doing the same to him.  

Maybe you tilted higher first, maybe he bent lower, but your lips crashed into each other - literally. 

Teeth against plush bottom lips and noses bumping, hands gripping at each other like you’re about to push the other off, yet you both only get closer. 

Steve pants into your mouth, his fingers dig into the skin just below your ribs as he pushes you in a direction clumsily, till your back is hitting the counter and you can feel how hard he already is as he pulls your hips against his own. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of making any noise when his thumb brushes over a hard nipple through lace, or when his tongue meets yours. He doesn’t give you any either when you pull a little hard at the hair at the back of his head and roll your hips. 

Neither of you say a word or let your faces show any sign that this is all exactly what you want, what you need when he pushes at the boxers and lets them fall to the floor as he lifts you onto the counter or when you pull and push at his belt and dress slacks enough to free his length. 

Steve slips up a little when you wrap your hand around him, his head thrown back and teeth digging into his lip, fists forming against the counter next to your thighs with each slow tug. 

“What’s the matter Steve?” Faux pouting lips form the coy question while your hand pumps faster. You smirk when Steve lets loose a shaky exhale on your next words. “You wanna tell me how good it feels? How turned on you are right now? How sor-“

You inhale sharply when his thumbs spread you and a low rumble leaves his lips, too close to your ear, “Oh babe…me? I think if anyone here is turned on it’s-fuck.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pushing him closer so his tip hits your entrance, your hand glides it through your folds dripping around him already, teasing at your clit then back down. 

“Speaking of fuck-oh.”

Your brows knit together, lips clamp shut as he slides into you slowly. His chest is heaving, white button down open so you could scrape you nails down the gray tank top revealed to you now, but you don’t. Your eyelashes are fluttering, fingers slipping against the counter and back arching so he could go deeper. 

He doesn’t. 

Steve keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, only giving you just enough to make you angry. Your cheeks grow hot, spine tingling, tongue pushing against your teeth with every glide in, silently willing, begging, him to go deeper. 

Your clit throbs, heels dig into him, but Steve stands firm, watching you closely, waiting till you look up at him. 

One damp strand of brown hair falls over his forehead, while eyes soften towards you again. Sweat rolls down his temple, each pulse of his steady heartbeat making his cologne sharper, mint and cedar distracting you, placating you. When you grip at his shoulders, finally touching him again, he exhales as his name leaves you in a whisper. 

“Steve,” your fingers grip the collar of his button down, “More.”

As your hands slip, nails curling into his chest, Steve finally gives you more. 

Then he stops.

Pressed against you, he inhales slow and steady, watching you. His arms flex around yours as his palms press to the cool counter, ignoring how thrilled he is to feel you fluttering around him fully now. 

He grins, finally, when a whine bubbles out of your throat at the lack of movement. He can’t help himself, raising his pitch and mocking your words earlier, “What’s the matter? Wanna tell me how good it feels? Wanna tell me you’re sor-“

“I said more,” you gasp around the words, rolling your hips until his hands fly to them and hold them in place. 

Steve looks at you seriously, black lust filled pupils taken over his gaze, and his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he speaks, like he’s debating his words. 

“I did give you more. Want something else? Gonna have to be specific babe. Maybe use a word that starts with ‘P’ and ends with leas-“

“Fucking, fuck me, Harrington!” You grip the cotton tank between your fingers, voice hot and body hotter and only getting more so when he throws his head back in a laugh. A laugh which only makes you clench around him more and spurring him on. 

“Harrington?! Did you just call me Harrington and then tell me to fuck you?!” He grins wider, his perfect smile on display, like he just can’t help himself. 

“Would you prefer King Ste-ohmygod!”

Steve pulls out and thrusts into you hard, his forehead furrowed as his mouth searches for yours. You meet him in a kiss that starts with another gasp as he sets a brutal pace. Your fingers slip around his neck and he lays over you so your back is against the counter. His hands drag you to the edge still, so his hips can meet yours over and over again as his tongue works at the seam of your lips once more.

He slows his kiss down, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling, breath exhaled against your cheek through his nose as your back arches and your nails leave their marks. Steve keeps thrusting, coarse hair hitting your clit that only aches for more when he releases your mouth. Lips kiss bitten and parting in shock when he speaks down to you with a deep and hoarse gravel, chest heaving as his nails scratch down your thigh. 

“Am I fucking you good enough, honey?” He pushes at your legs, bending them up and towards your chest so you do cry out as he somehow gets more inside of you, “Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

He rolls his hips, a thumb pressed to your clit and you break, the lava creeping closer. 

Steve groans when you gasp a yes, a more. 

He thrusts faster, hands skating over your body, pulling and tugging you closer to him, lips brushing against your jaw then your neck as he speaks. 

“Wanna come for me baby? Feels like you do, this pussy’s just crying around me.”

You gasp at the filth coming out of him, hating that it only makes him slip inside of you easier, faster. 

Steve lets your legs fall, guiding one around his hip and the other pressed next to your head, his torso rising so his gaze can stay on where your bodies meet with an intensity you haven’t quite seen before. He looks like an older version of a Steve you met a long time ago. 

Realizing now, his pants aren’t even down, his shirt only just unbuttoned, chain glistening in damp chest hair. His forearm veins and shoulders flex with determination you used to see on a court, jaw pulsing, and his brow sweating, but no longer furrowed - like he knows he’s won. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, tongue between his lips as his thumb swipes over your clit in a large figure eight and you jolt. His hand reflexively pushes your shoulder down, while he keeps working on the swollen nerves in time with his thrusts. 

Each pass, each thrust, is a clock counting down drowning out a crowd for him, knowing if he just keeps going, he’ll make it. For you, it’s lava gaining ground, inches from your demise, the heat licking at your body now enough for you to cry out his name just like an adoring fan. 

Steve grunts, brow furrowed again so he can focus on what he’s trying to say. 

“Oh, it’s first name basis again, yeah? Did that good of a job? An-another slut satisfied with their fuck from Harrington?”

You cry out a yes, literally, your orgasm breaking over you in multiple releases. You clench around him, thighs tightening on his hips and Steve’s rhythm stutters as you take everything he gives you. The rush of every pent up emotion makes it’s way over your lash lines. Angry tears, sad tears, relieved tears. Maybe delirious as you start laughing, fingers swiping at them and Steve’s head whips up. 

He slips out of you with a wince, his fingers catching the tears and his forehead furrowed with worry now, “Baby, babe. Hey, hey, hey, what’s-I’m sorry, that was too far, I thought you-“

“Steve,” you hiccup, fingers catching his, eyes doing the same to worried and back to warm honey irises. 

He waits, thumbs soothing over yours only pausing when you speak again. The scratches on his neck and shoulders pink now, less angry - sorry. They match the pink lips that part, the cheeks that stand out behind tear tracks. They still match the mood. 

Softer. 

Sweeter. 

Just like the words leaving your lips. 

“I’m pregnant.”

[kobitoshiningneedle]

WHA chapter 40...... What have you done.

I fully empathize that this is the Orufrey witch husbands doomed yaoi haven, but ALSO it manages to develop Qifrey's character in a twisted-grey areaish AND more symathetic way

He actually really loves living in the atelier.

And he genuinely enjoys being a mentor to the girls. It often happens that this kind of "settlted down" life is a disguise for a hero to pursuit his covert objections, but it's the case with Qifrey. The part about living a quiet life with the close friend and girls that are practically like daughters to him is genuine. 'Professor Qirfey' is real.

All of which, curiously, reinforces Qifrey's pursuit for the Brimhats

First of all, I guess Qifrey thinks he's a Naruto character is somehow sure that catching Brimhats who experimented on him and returning his remaining eye may stop his vision loss*

What witch can fare without vision? And what Professor would he be if he wouldn't be able to see how his girls succeed?

The other reason why Qifrey is all worked up about Brimhats is more terrifying

(too many tasty Qifrey frames. mwah)

So the Brimhats are trying to create a new, more twisted type of magic instead of using older forbidden spells they are known for. And apparently this is something truly dangerous so that he couldn't even tell Oru about it.

So there's a threat Qifrey knows about. Something that may directly affect the way witches live. Something that poses danger to his way of life... and to his family.

None of what I said is something obscure and groundbreaking, it's in the plain text, but I really wanted to point at how greatly the chapter recontextualizes Qifrey. It shows him as a more sleazy and shady man who isn't above messing with his best friend's memories, but also as a really desperate person who actually was trying to preserve everything he loves. His actions are out of love, not only revenge

You get it, do you, Bel? Although in some way he's working exactly to not letting his home being destroyed.

*actually, this condition really does exist in the real life! It's called sympathetic ophtalmy. After one eye gets injured (or destroyed) the immune system barrier between blood and eye tissues is gone, which causes inflammation of the intact eye to the point of losing vision in it. It usually happens after several weeks/months after the trauma. Really clever of Shirahama to do that