#i don’t want them to stare at me as i change

[yukioos]

katsuki bakugo and the double standard

you, mina, and kyoko were talking in your bedroom before the two of you invited denki and eijiro over. you and the girls made matching bracelets together, incorporating each other's eye colors into them, with your first initial in the middle. as all of you laughed together and talked about drama, then a show that was creating a new season, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness.

the only one that was missing was your boyfriend, katsuki.

you sighed as you stared at the red beads, rolling one in between your fingers, reminding you of the color of his crimson eyes. you spaced out, mind focused on your boyfriend, and you didn’t even realize what the topic of the conversation shifted to until denki tapped your shoulder.

“hey, are you okay? i think you zoned out.”

mina smirked, “i know. she’s thinking of bakugo! you love him so much, don’t you?” she bumped your shoulder with hers and smiled at you with her eyes squinted.

you rolled your eyes and shyly smiled, averting your eyes. eijiro then brought up with a grin, “hey, you know how bakugo always seems so angry around us but not around you?” he stared at you, but you grinned, unaware of what was to happen, “we were thinking of testing that theory out. i’ll ask him if he can get me something from the record shop near campus, we’ll see how he reacts, then you can ask him to get you something from that cafe nearby!”

sounded good to you! maybe it would be funny to see his reaction change from eijiro’s request to yours.

you nodded, and the whole group cheered. the redhead then took out his phone and you all huddled around him, curious as to what was to happen. he called katsuki four times before the blonde finally picked up.

katsuki sighed, “what.” eijiro frowned with his eyes widened, and looked around at all of you. you tried to stifle your giggles at his reaction by covering your mouth.

eijiro asked, “hey man, do you mind getting me some stuff from the record shop nearby? i already ordered everything, you’d just need to pick it up—“

“no! get off your ass and get it yourself!” he yelled, causing his best friend to nearly drop the device in shock. katsuki then hung up.

all of the group was silent for a couple of seconds before you all burst into laughter. denki was tearing up and mina could hardly breathe even as she held onto her stomach for dear life.

about half an hour later, you decided to call katsuki, and he picked up within a few seconds. eijiro’s jaw dropped. he was astonished by how much he had to wait for a response, but how quickly his best friend answered you, his girl.

“hey,” katsuki greeted. he sounded not displeased nor pleased, so you were confused. little did you know, he paused everything just to lay on his bed and listen to your voice.

“hey kats! could you get me some sweets from the cafe i like? please?”

he paused, “fine. do you want the usual?” he tried to sound irritated but failed miserably.

you giggled and nodded, forgetting he couldn’t hear you. you replied, “yes, please, kats! thank you!”

he mumbled, “shut up,” and blushed. ruffling sounds were audible from his side of the call, and you could tell he was standing up from his bed to walk out of his dorm.

you exclaimed, “when you have all the sweets, come to my dorm! love you, blondie!”

he softly mumbled it back to the point where it was nearly inaudible, and you were the only one who could hear it. after half an hour passed, a knock was heard on your door, and the chatter stopped. you hurriedly rushed to open the door with a smile on your face.

the blonde carried a large bag with multiple containers of sweets, even some that you didn’t recognize. he bought you extras? god, he was all you could ever ask for. the perfect man.

“oh, yay! you’re the best, kats!” you propped your hands on his wide shoulders and kissed his cheek, earning a smile from him.

when you invited your boyfriend in and he saw the group you were hanging out with, denki gasped, “hey! why did you get her stuff but not—”

“shut up!” katsuki immediately retorted, not letting him finish.

he took your favorite cake out of the bag and handed it to you, along with a fork and a napkin. you squealed, jumped, and spun around in a circle. you pulled him down to sit with you on the ground, in the circle with your friends.

as you ate the cake, you scooted closer to your boyfriend. suddenly, you heard stifled, deep chuckles from someone next to you. you tilted your head at katsuki, whose eyes were finally squinted due to giving you a real smile.

he brought his finger up to your cheek and wiped something off your cheek, supposedly frosting.

kyoko quickly reacted, “never would’ve expected you to be the sap, bakugo.”

katsuki grumbled again and rolled his eyes, “shut up—“

“you’ve said that like, four times already.” eijiro replied, wanting to frustrate his best friend more.

katsuki continued to mutter curses under his breath, and the conversation continued without the both of you two. you smiled at his rather hard expression, then suddenly rubbed his bicep with your hand. his eyes turned towards yours, and as soon as they did, you were about to kiss his cheek, when he turned his head at the right time so you would finally kiss him on the lips.

you giggled. since when was katsuki so proud of being so flirty in public? you knew he didn’t care much for physical touch in front of others, so you were fairly confused. however, you weren’t complaining.

“aww, you just love your girl so much, don’t you?” eijiro ruined the moment.

“yeah, i do, so shut the hell up!”

not proofread, hope u guys like this one!

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Mydei with a reader that squirts when he rubs our clit please PLEASE

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : nsfw/smut, squirting, degradation, dumbification, overstimulation, size kink, forced orgasms, huge dubcon alert, cervix f*cking, belly bulge, mild pain kink and light sadism.

Mydei is fascinated by the way you react to his touch. The moment his fingers press against your clit, slow and deliberate, he watches as your breath catches, your thighs trembling under his firm grip. His golden eyes darken with hunger, the corners of his lips twitching into that smug little smirk you’ve come to both love and hate.

“You’re already so sensitive,” he muses, rubbing slow, teasing circles around your clit. “I barely started, and look at you—shaking.”

You whimper, hips twitching, trying to grind up into his hand, but he holds you down with his free arm, keeping you still. His pace doesn’t quicken, doesn’t change—just that steady, torturous rhythm that makes your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Then he presses down, just slightly, just enough pressure to send a spark of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your body jerks, and he chuckles.

“Oh?” His voice drips with amusement. “That was cute.”

“Mydei—” You choke out his name, barely able to breathe as he keeps working you open, his fingers slick with your arousal. It’s too much. The slow build, the relentless pressure, the way he refuses to let you squirm away.

“Shh, I want to see it.” His lips brush against your ear, voice low and coaxing. “Go on, sweetheart. Let go for me.”

And then he rubs just right—tight, precise circles, pressing down in that perfect way that makes your vision blur. The pleasure snaps, white-hot and overwhelming, and your body arches as the pressure releases all at once.

A gush of wetness spills onto his fingers, and Mydei stills for just a second. Then, a sharp inhale.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, his usual teasing lilt gone, replaced with something raw, something needy. His fingers don’t stop, rubbing you through the aftershocks as he watches, enthralled, as you shudder and whimper beneath him.

His golden eyes flick up to yours, wild with hunger. “You can do that again, can’t you?”

Mydei stares at you like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. His fingers are still buried between your thighs, coated in your release, and he lifts them to his lips, licking the slick from his skin with a slow, deliberate flick of his tongue.

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, golden eyes gleaming with something cruel. “Look at this mess.”

You whimper, body still twitching from the aftershocks, but Mydei doesn’t let you rest. His hand is back on your clit in an instant, rubbing slow, lazy circles, spreading the wetness around as his touch grows firmer.

“Mydei—w-wait, I—” Your voice stumbles, breathy and wrecked. Your legs try to snap shut, but he pries them apart effortlessly, pinning them open with his knee.

“Wait?” He scoffs, pressing down harder. “And why would I do that, sweetheart?”

You shake, pleasure spilling over into something unbearable, something too much. Your nails dig into his wrist, trying to push him away, but he only grins, grabbing your hand and forcing it down against the bed.

“Aw, is it too much for you?” His voice is sweet, mockingly gentle. “Poor little thing can’t handle it?”

Tears well up in your eyes, and Mydei groans, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight.

“Oh, that’s cute.” He leans in, lips brushing against your ear. “Gonna cry for me? Go ahead, baby, cry all you want. I’ll still make you cum again.”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow. If anything, he gets rougher, grinding tight circles against your swollen clit, watching the way you tremble, the way your body twitches under his relentless pace.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “Bet I could make you squirt again, easy.”

Your stomach coils tight, a sharp, overwhelming wave of pleasure building again, too soon, too fast.

“Mydei—! I c-can’t—!”

“You can.” His hand snakes up to your throat, fingers wrapping around the delicate column, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. “And you will.”

The pressure is dizzying. Your mind turns foggy, pleasure crashing over you with brutal intensity. You can’t stop it—you wouldn’t be able to even if he let you. Your back arches, and with a sharp cry, you gush again, soaking his hand, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Mydei groans, his own restraint slipping.

“Fuck, you’re such a messy little thing,” he growls, voice thick with arousal. “Look at you, squirting all over my hand like a dumb, needy slut.”

You’re barely coming down before he shifts, yanking your legs up, spreading you open wider. His fingers press inside this time, thrusting deep, curling just right, pressing against that spot that has you choking on a sob.

“You like this, don’t you?” His tone is cruel, taunting. “Getting fucked dumb on my fingers, making a mess all over yourself?”

You can’t answer. Your voice is gone, mind white-hot with pleasure.

“Mydei—too much, I can’t—!”

“You can.” He leans in, lips brushing against your temple, deceptively sweet. “And you’re going to keep cumming for me, sweetheart. Until you can’t think. Until you’re nothing but my dumb little mess.”

His fingers speed up, his grip tightening on your throat. And when he finally undoes his belt, pressing the thick length of his cock against your dripping entrance, he groans, voice thick with hunger.

“Gonna fuck you full, sweetheart. Gonna make sure you’re dripping with me inside you.”

And from the way he’s looking at you, ravenous and obsessed, you know he means it.

Mydei drags the thick head of his cock through your slick folds, smearing the mess you’ve made all over himself. He groans at the sheer wetness of it, his grip tightening on your trembling thighs as he spreads them wider, keeping you open for him.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, low, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You’re shaking so much. Did I ruin you already?”

You barely hear him past the haze of overstimulation clouding your mind. Your body is still twitching from the last orgasm, legs weak and useless where they’re hooked over his shoulders. But Mydei doesn’t give you a moment to recover.

He presses in, the swollen head of his cock stretching you open with a slow, unrelenting push. Your walls clamp down hard, still fluttering from the aftershocks, and Mydei groans at the tightness, golden eyes narrowing.

“Shit—relax, baby,” he murmurs, but his smirk is wicked. He loves how you struggle to take him, how you’re already squeezing around just the tip. “You’re so tiny, fuck. Can you even handle me?”

Your head shakes, a sob slipping from your lips as the sheer stretch burns. He’s too big, too thick—your body can’t take him, can’t adjust fast enough.

“Mydei—it’s too much, nghh—!”

You gasp, a choked moan tearing from your throat as he forces his cock deeper. The stretch is overwhelming, almost painful, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down.

“You’re sucking me in,” he groans, eyes dark with hunger. “Your pretty little pussy’s squeezing so tight—fuck, I can see it.”

His hand drifts down, pressing against your lower belly, right where his cock is stretching you open. He smirks when you whimper, pushing down just enough to make you feel it even more.

“Look at that.” His golden eyes flick up to yours, dark and teasing. “I’m so deep, baby. I can feel myself inside you.”

You cry out, overwhelmed, pleasure and pain blurring together as he pulls back only to slam forward again, the thick head of his cock pressing against your cervix. Your walls clench around him, and Mydei grits his teeth, groaning.

“Fuck—you like that, don’t you?” His grip tightens on your waist, nails digging in as he picks up the pace, each thrust brutal, each drag of his cock stretching you impossibly wide. “Taking my cock like a good girl—so fucking tight, so fucking messy.”

You can’t speak. Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out except broken moans, your body shuddering under him. Your brain is mush, thoughts slipping away with every thrust that forces your body to take more than it should.

“That’s it,” Mydei breathes, watching the way your eyes go hazy, your tongue lolling slightly. “Fuck, you’re getting stupid on my cock, aren’t you?”

He laughs, breathless, his thumb pressing against your overstimulated clit again. You sob at the touch, legs kicking weakly against his shoulders, but he doesn’t care.

“Mydei—! Fuck—‘s too much!”

“Shh, sweetheart.” His hand slides back up to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you feel lightheaded, his cock pulsing deep inside you. “Just let me use you a little more. You can do that, right?”

His pace turns brutal, fucking you deep, forcing your body to mold to his size. The lewd squelch of your cunt, the wet slap of skin against skin, fills the air as he pounds into you, chasing his high.

“Gonna fill you up,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Gonna stuff you so full, baby. You’ll be dripping with me for days.”

Your orgasm crashes over you with brutal force, your walls clamping down so hard around him that he chokes on a groan, his pace faltering for just a second. Then, with a deep growl, he slams into you one last time, spilling deep inside, filling you with thick ropes of cum.

He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, watching the way your body twitches, completely spent and ruined beneath him. Then, a wicked smirk tugs at his lips.

“… You can take another round, can’t you, sweetheart?”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[nosyrobin]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪 𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 + 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑿 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹!𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹⋆. 𐙚 ˚

pt.1 || pt.2

☆〜 what a smart child, a powerful child that is a god in their own world. The power to shift through realities, the power to make things shift to your own amusement. But what happens when this simple child, this child in elementary, shifts into a universe of violence, landing onto a soft bouncy house.

Giggling wildly, they hop off the bouncy house, ignoring the shock looks of parents as some kids at this assumed birthday party had their jaw drops. But this child didn’t care but to explore! And explore they did, they found themself in a place called bludhaven. A man with some kinda suit with black and blue appears the next minute behind the child.

“Hey kiddo, where’s your mommy or daddy?” His tone soft and gentle. Turning around, the child shrugs, use to them being randomly teleported due to their powers. “Don’t know. I want ice cream!” They point to an ice cream truck, accidentally changing the topic as they rush at it. Nightwing could only panic as he rushes over to this hyper child.

“Hey! Look both ways before crossing!” After the small heart attack, nightwing lets the child get on his back. Going to the police station to see if there is any records about this random child that had randomly made the one scoop ice cream into a three scoop.

After seeing there were no records of the child’s parents, or at least the child at most. Nightwing didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to give the small child up to foster care. Foster care isn’t the best option at times.

So….he took care of you. He made sure you didn’t know who he was. Dick started to take care of you like a father and an older brother. Not bothering to help you learn things you didn’t know before. But it was only for so long til he could keep the secret before you had found his suit in his closet. “Mr. Grayson!” Dick turns around with a smile. “Yes kid—” immediately drops the pan that held pancakes as you held the Nightwing costume.

“Hero! You’re a herooo!!” Your eyes widen as you put it down gently with small pats. “I wanna be one!” Dick puts the pancakes up with the pan and picks you up, shaking his head no with worry. “No! No! You are too young, and you still are in 3rd grade. You can’t just be a superhero” you pouted as you pointed to the pancakes which transformed into blueberry waffles.

“But.. I wanna help people.” Dick has learned about your powers since you turned broccoli into a chicken sandwich. “Yeah… but it’s not worth it. Believe me.” Haley barks at her owner, staring at him with those big eyes of hers. “But Haley goes out on missions with you!” Dick’s eyes widen as he sits you down.

“You know I went on missions!?” Pouting, you huff. “How can Haley go but I can’t?” “Cause you have school!” “Not on weekends!” The argument you both had left some heavy air for a few days. Mostly cause of your stubbornness, you held a grudge, and when you hold a grudge. You hold one. You reminded him of his younger brother, Damian.

Dick tried everything to get you to forgive him, as such as; ice cream, plushies, movie tickets to the new paw patrol movie. Hell even the newish SpongeBob movie.

Okay now you did talk to him and cling to him like you usual do. But that ended right after the movie ended. Then finally, you’ve won as dick had Bruce clutch in and made you a suit. The suit was very cute with pastel colors due to your love with sparkles. You even named yourself the “Sparkler”, but who knows how long that name will last when you get older.

Yes, dick intends to take care of you to the point you grow old enough to move out. He’s practically the only family you got… in his point of view not knowing you have an actual family out of this reality. But he feels like he actually has his own family, sure he has one with the batfamily. But with you around and your childish antics, he felt.. calm.

As if you were his charge. And he loves it. It’s been months, almost a year since you’ve been here and he would go to any rehearsal you have if you join anything. Hell, he was so happy to hear you call him dad at least. Not dick, not Mr. Grayson.

But dad.

You both already created such a family bond that Bruce even sees you as his grandchild. And his brothers see you as their [nephew/neice]. Damian even gifted you a tiny sword, and dick snatched it away the minute you started swinging it around.

But eitherless, you had fun with your parental figure! That was still a sparkly patrol arrived out of no where.

You were coloring as Dick was in the kitchen cooking your favorite meal, you turned at the portal, not interested as you only rolled your eyes. It was just some portal that would appear when your time limit in a reality has passed. But you loved staying here! Dick was better than your own parents at your own world… but you guess the portal said otherwise.

The portal made a weird noise, like it was growling as it started to suck in everything in your room. Eyes widen, you get up, ready to run. “Dad! Dad!” You yelled for him, the portal started to suck in the plushies like a black hole. You dodged some things that could’ve hit your head.

You were so close to the door! But then the portal got angry, starting to gulp in everything. Dick, who heard a loud scream, dropped whatever he had in his hands when he heared your scream. Haley was ready too as she followed her owner to the room of his beloved child.

But he was too late.. the room was empty of everything. Including you. The blue eyed male dropped to the floor, Haley whines, trying to sniff around. You were gone, your scream echoed in his head.

He was late… late.. late….

Late……

He felt broken. He couldn’t save you from whatever happened…..

Where did you even go?

☆

Mark was flying through the sky, patrolling the city bored as he frowned. “God this is more boring than usual…” then he gets hit with a flying child that fell from a sparkly portal.

Mark grunts as he held you tight to his body, not wasting time or fly to a safe spot. He would’ve thought you would be shaking, scared, crying. You looked no older than 8 or at least 9, yet you had such a soft look on your face along with nonchalance.

“Well that was fun!” You exclaimed as you jumped excitedly. “H-how..? What the…. Are you okay?!” Thoughts was running through his head, a kid, much younger than his half brother was standing infront of him, dusting themself off as if they weren’t close to even dying!? “Oh me? I’m fine! But i need to back to my dad.” You looked around the place that you landed by with this hero.

Seeing no sparkly portal, you frowned. You felt sad, usually you didn’t feel this sad when going through another universe or whatever they are called. Mark looks at you confused, “Hey uhm, buddy? What are you looking for?” He questions as he tries to gentle his voice. “Portal with sparkles! It’s my way back to my dad!” You grabbed mark’s hand. “You’ll help me right?”

Mark didn’t know if he wanted to, he should! Of course he should! But the way you aren’t worried about falling from the sky, yapping about some kind of sparkly portal, and you’re a child. This could ring into trouble. But you look so innocent, and scared.

“Listen, what does your dad look like?”

“Well he has black hair, blue eyes, and he has dimples.” You pointed to both side of your cheeks to make it seem like dimples. Doing so, mark almost laughed at how adorable you seemed. Okay maybe you weren’t trouble, but you definitely were lost.

“Alright, let’s find your dad.” He picks you up, having you smile thinking that maybe he could get someone to have you into the place you were in before…

TO BE CONTINUED

[scoupsakakitty]

Cover Up | idol!S.coups x idol!Reader | angst, fluff

The golden glow of the evening sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows as Y/N sifted through the rack of clothes her stylist had sent over. The award show was just two days away, and every outfit seemed louder and bolder than the last.

Seungcheol sat on the edge of their bed, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through his messages. But his eyes kept flickering up to her. She was humming softly to herself, holding up a sleek black dress to her frame before shaking her head and moving on to the next one.

She was beautiful, no matter what she wore—but that wasn’t the problem tonight.

“Cheol,” she called over her shoulder, “are you even paying attention?”

He looked up quickly, straightening as she turned to him with a grin. “Yeah, of course.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Liar. Don’t worry, I’ll make you pay attention soon enough.”

With that, she disappeared into the closet to change. Seungcheol’s stomach twisted slightly. He knew she was going to look stunning—she always did. But he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been building all evening.

When she stepped out a few minutes later, his breath caught in his throat.

The dress was short, its black fabric shimmering faintly in the light. Cutouts along the sides and back revealed smooth skin, and the neckline dipped just low enough to make his heart race. Her long legs were framed perfectly by the sharp heels she wore, and she stood confidently in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps as though she hadn’t just completely robbed him of his ability to think.

“What do you think?” she asked, spinning to face him.

Seungcheol swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words.

“You’re… you look good,” he said finally, though the tension in his voice betrayed him.

Her eyebrows knit together. “Just good? It’s for the red carpet, Cheol. My stylist said it’s perfect for the theme. Bold, modern…” She gestured vaguely at the dress. “Eye-catching.”

“It’s definitely eye-catching,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

He stood, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room. “Y/N, don’t you think it’s a little… much?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Much? What do you mean?”

“It’s short,” he said bluntly, gesturing toward the hem of the dress. “And tight. And the cutouts…” His gaze drifted to her sides, where the fabric revealed smooth lines of skin.

“That’s the point,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s supposed to be bold.”

“But do you really need to show this much to be bold?” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

Her jaw tightened. “Seungcheol, this is my job. I’m an idol. People expect me to dress like this at events.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, pacing a few steps before turning back to her. “I know it’s your job, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. I don’t want everyone else looking at you like that.”

Her mouth fell open, and she stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he said, his voice firm. “I don’t like it when other people stare at you, okay? You dress neatly most of the time, and I love that about you. But this—” He gestured at the dress again, his voice rising slightly. “This feels… wrong.”

“You think my dress is inappropriate?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“For me, yeah,” he admitted. “It’s not just about how it looks—it’s about what it makes me feel. I don’t want other people seeing you like this. I want you to cover up.”

Y/N blinked, her lips parting in shock. “Cover up? Cheol, do you even hear yourself right now?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, his words tumbling out before he could stop them, “maybe something that covers your knees. Or something with buttons up to your neck—”

“Buttons up to my neck?” she repeated, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” he shot back, his frustration mounting. “I want you to look like you’re mine, not like you’re on display for everyone else.”

“That’s not how this works, Seungcheol,” she said firmly. “I’m not yours to control. I love you, but you don’t get to dictate what I wear or how I present myself.”

He fell silent, the weight of her words hitting him like a punch to the chest.

“It’s not about control,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I just… I hate the thought of other people staring at you, thinking they have the right to look at you like that. It’s not fair to you, and it drives me crazy.”

Her expression softened slightly, but her stance remained firm. “Cheol, I get that you’re protective. I do. But you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“I trust you,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

“That’s not something you can control,” she said gently. “I’m an idol. People are always going to look, no matter what I wear. But none of it matters, because at the end of the day, you’re the one I come home to.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words.

“I have so many plans,” he murmured finally, his voice almost a whisper. “So many things I want to say and do to show you how much I care. But when it comes to moments like this, I just… I can’t say anything right.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out, taking his hands in hers. “You don’t have to say the right thing, Cheol. You just have to trust that I love you and that nothing—no dress, no event, no cameras—will change that.”

He let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t mean to be like this. It’s just… hard for me sometimes.”

“I know,” she said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around him. “But we’ll work on it, okay? Together.”

He nodded, resting his chin on her head as he pulled her into a hug. “Okay. But for the record, I still think you’d look amazing in something that covers your knees.”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Noted, Grandpa. Now, do you want to help me pick out accessories, or are you going to keep pouting?”

He chuckled softly, finally letting go of his frustration. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As she stepped back to grab her jewelry, Seungcheol watched her with a small smile. He didn’t like the dress, but he loved her—and that was enough to quiet the storm inside him.

[allhandsonhotch]

Mommy Makeover

Pairing: reassuring!hotch & insecure!new mom! reader!

Synopsis- After hearing one of the moms at Jack’s school ask you if Aaron was going to pay for your mommy makeover— it leaves you feeling very insecure in your own skin.

Warnings: mentions of body insecurity, slight angry hotch, alludings to smut (potential part two ;0), sad, insecure reader, mentions of child birth/labor, comforting hotch, mean pta moms. let me know if i missed any!

You had just had a baby about a two months ago with your boyfriend of a year. It was a little soon and the both of you knew that but Aaron remained by your side through the whole thing and reassured you that the baby wasn’t going to change your relationship.

You loved him and your new baby girl but you had noticed how your stomach stretched out a little more now, your tits were lopsided from breastfeeding, and you hadn’t really made an effort to look good since you had your baby.

None of that bothered you too much because Aaron didn’t seem to mind or at least he didn’t tell you he did.

You had taken Jack to school a lot since you were on maternity leave from work and you hadn’t seemed to notice the judgemental stares from some of the other moms until they came up to you directly.

“So— Y/N is Aaron paying for your mommy makeover?” One of them asked, you’d grown to know her name as Liz but only because she tried to get you to join the PTA.

“What?” You asked confused. You’d never heard of a mommy makeover and you didn’t know if you wanted to know.

“My husband paid for mine when we had our last baby— not that I really needed it the way you do..” Her tone was condescending in a way that made you want to hit her and that’s when you noticed what she was talking about. Her stomach was flatter than ever despite having 3 kids, her thighs weren’t saggy with extra fat and her tits were annoyingly perfect in the way that they perked up perfectly in the tiny crop top she wore, her ass was rounded off and it didn’t sag the way yours did. She looked good.

“What do you mean?” You asked, irritation clear in your tone. “Oh I just mean that— my husband hated the way I looked after I had our last baby— he wouldn’t sleep with me if I looked like..” Your heart dropped as you let her words get into your head.

Aaron hadn’t had sex with you since the baby and the doctor cleared you for that weeks ago.

He hadn’t even tried to get with you at all now that you thought about it and just like that it stung really bad.

Childbirth had changed your body in many ways and it bugged you but you never thought it could have bugged Aaron— but maybe it did.

“Me?” You asked which made her head shake with a fake smile. “No! Y/N of course not! I’m just saying..” You hated the way she condescended you, it made you feel disgusting.

“I’m sorry but just because your husband couldn’t appreciate the way you looked after growing his child in your womb doesn’t mean I need that stupid mommy makeover!” You snapped irritatedly and god you wished you believed yourself.

You went home right after that looking defeated as you walked through the door. Aaron was staying home today and he offered you a break from the baby by letting you take Jack to school.

“Hey honey..” Aaron greeted his tone lowering as he saw the expression on your face. “What’s wrong?” He asked almost so softly you couldn’t hear.

“Just the other moms— M’ fine.” You tried, hoping it sounded reassuring enough for him. “What did they say?” He demanded, his voice sounding bitter as he spoke.

He knew how judgy they could be. “Just some talk about a uhm— Liz insinuated that uh—” You wished it didn’t sound so dumb as you tried to say it out loud.

“Liz basically insinuated that I needed one of those stupid mommy makeovers..” Your tone was quiet, insecurity clear as you spoke.

Aaron’s eyes softened immediately, his hand coming to grip your waist. “You can’t believe her.. right? You don’t believe her?”

His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—like the very idea of you believing Liz’s words physically pained him. His hand tightened on your waist, grounding you, pulling you closer.

You swallowed hard, eyes dropping to his chest instead of meeting his gaze. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean… I had Delilah not too long ago, and it’s not like I look the same as I did back when we started dating..”

Aaron exhaled sharply, his grip firm as he guided you to look at him. “You’re serious?” His brows knit together, frustration flashing in his dark eyes—not at you, but at the fact that you were doubting yourself because of someone else’s careless words. “You are beautiful, exactly as you are.”

You huffed a short, humorless laugh. “You have to say that.”

“No,” he countered immediately, shaking his head. “I don’t. But I do have to make sure you understand how wrong she is.” His free hand lifted to your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and anyone who says otherwise is blind.”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, and for a second, you thought—hoped—he might kiss you. But then he exhaled through his nose, reigning himself back in.

“I don’t want you believing anyone who tries to make you feel less than what you are.” His thumb brushed your cheek again, and his voice dropped, softer now. “And what you are is incredible, you carried a child for nine months I couldn’t imagine doing that.. of course your body is bound to change but I love the way you look now just as much as I loved the way you looked before if not more.”

You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck. “Aaron…”

“You don’t need a dumb mommy makeover,” he murmured. “And you sure as hell don’t need validation from someone like her.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you searched his face, finding nothing but sincerity. And maybe—just maybe—something more.

“But you haven’t had sex with me since before I had the baby and I just thought maybe you thought I was unattractive or something..” Aaron’s entire body went still. His jaw tensed, his brows drawing together as if the very idea was incomprehensible to him. “What?” His voice was low, almost disbelieving.

You swallowed, feeling heat rise up your neck. You hadn’t meant to say it—not like that, not so bluntly—but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

“I just… I know things have been different since Delilah was born,” you said quietly, shifting under his gaze. “And I get it, we’re exhausted, we barely have time for each other, but sometimes I wonder if it’s more than that.” You exhaled shakily. “If maybe you don’t want me like you used to.”

His expression darkened, something flickering behind his eyes—something raw, something frustrated. “You think I don’t want you?” His voice dropped, rough with emotion, and before you could answer, his hands were back on you—gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The heat of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he murmured, his lips just inches from yours. “I think about you constantly. Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself? How many nights I’ve laid awake next to you, wanting to touch you?” His fingers flexed against your hips, like he was barely holding himself back. “You just had our baby. The last thing I wanted was to pressure you, to make you feel like you owed me something.”

You blinked up at him, breath catching in your throat. “Aaron…”

His thumb brushed against your lower lip, his eyes burning into yours. “You are everything to me. Everything. And if I haven’t touched you, it’s not because I don’t want you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s because I can’t trust myself to stop.”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your stomach. “Then don’t.”

His eyes searched yours, hesitation warring with desire. And then, finally, something inside him snapped.

Aaron’s mouth was on yours before you could take another breath, the kiss deep and consuming. His hands roamed your body, relearning every inch of you, and you melted into him, the weight of every doubt, every insecurity, fading beneath his touch.

[aryadelvich]

Luigi and reader are baking a cake and reader applies a small amount of cake batter on Luigi’s face (near his birth mark). She then grabs his face to lick it off and he makes a swift move to kiss her 💋💋. FRENCH KISSING with tongue 😏

I never sent a request sometimes I write but I want to connect with more Luigi writers hope all is well🩷😊.

Chef - Luigi Mangione x reader

First of all I’m honoured to be one of your first request ! Second of all I love your idea, it’s so cute !!!🥰 Thank you very much for your request !!! 💕💕

"Luigi, you're making a mess!" you exclaimed in frustration. You had been in the kitchen for over an hour, trying to bake a cake for one of your friends, but it was turning into complete chaos.

"Shhh, let the chef work," he said, focused, stretching out his muscular arm like a barrier to stop you at your waist.

"The chef?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm the head chef. Now move aside kitchen assistant, I need that."

You didn’t budge, so he had to press against you to reach the bowl he was aiming for. The funny thing was, this had been your idea in the first place, but now Luigi was acting like he was in charge. He energetically mixed the batter.

"Luigi, you're getting it everywhere."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I don't see you working, Y/N."

"I'm the taste tester. My job comes at the end."

"You won’t get to taste anything if I fire you first," he shot back playfully.

You and Luigi were close friends. You had the same friend group, went to the same university, and liked pretty much the same things. And you adored him—he was so kind, caring, funny, and, most of all, intelligent.

"Okay! Fine, I’ll help," you gave in, grabbing the bowl and pouring the batter into the cake mold.

"Good girl," he teased sarcastically.

"Don't ever call me that," you warned.

"Or what?" he says, a provocative look on his face.

Without thinking, you scooped up some leftover batter with your fingers and smeared it all over his face.

"You’re going to regret that!" he exclaimed.

You immediately took off running, but he was faster. He caught up to you with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off the ground.

"No, okay, I’m sorry!" you faked an apology—one you absolutely didn’t mean.

"Too late. I hold grudges. Hmm… what would happen if I rubbed my face in your hair?"

"No! Not my hair! I washed it yesterday," you protested.

"Oh yes! I know all about your hair-washing schedule. What if I ruined it?" he threatened playfully.

"How do you even know that? That’s a girl secret!"

"I have two older sisters, remember? And don’t try to change the subject. Now, what should I do with you?"

"No, please, Luigi! I’ll fix this!"

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Let me go, and I’ll show you."

He slowly released his hold, his touch having been gentle from the start. You wiped some of the batter off his face with your finger and popped it into your mouth.

"Mmm, delicious," you said mischievously.

"You might as well lick me like a cat while you're at it," Luigi muttered.

"Would that make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

"Then I’m definitely doing it!"

He burst into laughter. That was the first thing he had liked about you—your ability to never take things too seriously. You stepped closer, cupping his face in your hands. As you leaned in to lick the remaining batter, he turned his head at the last second… Your lips grazed each other, a fleeting touch—too light to be a kiss, yet enough to make your breath hitch.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just stared at each other, hearts pounding in sync, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then, almost as if drawn by an unseen force, you both leaned in at the same time.

And finally, your lips met.

He pressed closer, desperate to feel more of you, to take more of you. His lips were warm, soft, yet urgent against yours. His breath mingled with yours, heavy and uneven. His hands found your hips, gripping them firmly, as if afraid you might slip away.

You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your fingers wove through his curls, tugging slightly, making him shudder. A low moan escaped him, unrestrained—too many emotions hitting him all at once. He was burning.

His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and you parted them without hesitation, inviting him in. He deepened the kiss, a quiet hum vibrating in his throat, sending a shiver down your spine. The intensity of it all left you breathless, dizzy. And when you finally broke apart, gasping for air, reality came crashing back, your forehead still brushing against his.

A silence settles between you. The kind that says too much.

Then Luigi lets out a quiet laugh, as if trying to break the tension. "Well… I guess we just reached a new level of friendship."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to regain your composure. "Oh yeah? Is that the level where we kiss and pretend it doesn’t mean anything?"

He tilts his head slightly, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "Exactly."

You hold his gaze, searching for the truth beneath his humor. Because you know him. You know when he’s pretending everything is fine. But you don’t push. You don’t want to. After all, your heart is still racing, and you’re not ready to admit why.

So you laugh, because it’s easier. Because it’s you two.

"Alright, so we’ll just pretend this never happened," you say, stepping back slightly, even though his body is still so close.

"Of course," he agrees, finally letting go of your waist. But his fingers brush against yours for just a second too long before he truly pulls away.

And that’s how you both silently decide that nothing has changed.

Except everything has.

In the days that follow, everything seems normal. You still hang out together, exchange the same jokes, talk about everything and nothing.

But then there are thosemoments.

Those stolen seconds where your eyes meet and neither of you looks away. Where his arm grazes yours, and neither of you moves.

Those fleeting instants when you wonder if he feels it too—that friendship isn’t quite the right word for whatever this is anymore.

But neither of you says anything. Because it’s easier that way.

Because admitting it means risking everything.

[thenickgirl]

✦⊹𝙏𝙐𝙏𝙊𝙍 𝙎𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴄʜᴇᴇʀʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴄᴋ x ᴊᴏᴄᴋ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ

type: blurb adjacent ❀ genre: fluff ❀ pov: reader’s ❀ wc: 1.8K

a/n: so excited to get this au up and running. gonna slow burn it a teeny tiny bit, so just trust the process lmao. happy reading! ❀

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

You were in the campus library, sitting next to the man of your dreams, Nick. Earlier, you had asked him for his help on an assignment that was due. You weren’t exactly friends, but you weren’t strangers either. You had the biggest crush on him, but he barely he gave you the time of day. You had the same class, and you knew how good he was at the subject, so you thought this could be a perfect chance to talk to him one on one. You were honestly surprised he said yes, Nick has always been pretty cold and unamused by your presence, but maybe something has changed. Maybe your advances were starting to wear him down.

Nick was currently explaining a math equation, something with letters, but it was becoming harder and harder for you to focus. He was sitting so close, and he smelled so fucking good, like sweet vanilla. You have to keep yourself from moaning every time you got a whiff when he moved. His voice is like a beautiful harmony, you could listen to him speak for the rest of your life. There’s simply no way you could stay focused like this, not when he’s looking so god damn fi-

“Y/N?” Nick spoke up, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” you hum, clearing your throat.

He stares at you, before sighing deeply, “You weren’t paying attention, were you?” He says, sitting back in his chair.

“No, no, I was.” You say, trying to save face.

He looks at you, his blue eyes glaring at you as his arms folded across his chest, “Right. Then what did I just say?” Nick asks.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to come up with something that sounded right. “Uh…something about the periodic table…?” You chuckle nervously.

His eyes narrowed, “This is math. You’re weren’t listening,” he sighed again, shaking his head.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I just…I’m sorry, tell me again.” You apologized, hoping this wouldn’t put you even further on his bad side.

Nick sat up in his chair, and began explaining to you again. You were listening intently at first, but then you caught yourself staring at his hands. The way his fingers would move across the paper, made you dizzy. They were so long, slim, and pretty, not to mention freshly manicured. You wondered how often he got them done, and you knew then that you would pay whatever for him to never stop going. You couldn’t help but think what it would feel like to hold his hand. Your eyes trailed up his arm, catching sight of his tattoos, and you had to stop yourself from tracing them with your fingers. Your eyes stop at his broad shoulders, before locking in on the side of his face. How is it that even his side profile is perfect? His cheekbones are so defined, and his jawline is sharper than any knife you’d ever seen. His hoop earring that dangled just above it, made your heart skip.

The more and more you got lost in him, your heart went from skipping to thudding in your chest. So hard in fact, that you prayed he couldn’t hear it.

Your eyes trail over to his mouth, you love the way it moves when he speaks. His lips look so soft, probably because of how often he applies his cherry lip balm, which smelled so delicious. God, what you would give to feel those soft lips on yo-

“Y/N!” Nick says, grabbing your attention.

“Huh?” You say, snapping out of your trance.

“You’re not listening, again!” Nick sighed deeply, “It’s obvious you don’t actually want my help, so” he says while gathering his things and getting up. You catch his wrist in your hand, stopping him, and he looks down at it before looking at you.

“No wait, please. I’m sorry, I really am. I do want your help. I promise, just…please don’t leave.” You pleaded, desperation in your eyes. This was your one chance, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

He huffs, “Fine,” he says, as he sits back down, taking out his notes once again.

Nick started breaking down the equation for you for the third time. This time, you listened and surprisingly, actually learned something. He was really good at teaching, or maybe it’s just that you were so infatuated with him. After a while of going over the material, he suggests you try and work the problems on your own.

“Okay, you seem to get the hang of it, finally. Why don’t you finish the rest of them while I work on my own assignment. Just let me know if you need any more help.” He says, pulling his laptop out from his bag and beginning to work.

“Cool,” you say, nodding your head as you look down and begin to finish your assignment.

There was a silence between you two for a while, and you didn’t want it to be that way. You wanted to talk to him, get to know him. You chewed on your pencil for a moment before deciding to break the ice.

“So, I noticed you’re always wearing headphones. You like music, huh?” You ask, looking over at him with a smile.

“Something like that,” he responds dryly, not looking from his computer.

“Yeah, me too. Do you like Harry Styles?” You ask, your tone is a little more giddy this time.

Nick looks over at you for a moment before responding, “No.”

You fake a gasp, “Usually, that’s a deal breaker for me, because I love Harry Styles, but I’ll let it slide.” You tease, winking at him, and he frowns.

“Wow, I’m so happy for you both.” He responds, in an upbeat yet sarcastic tone, smiling briefly before rolling his eyes.

You chuckle to yourself, this was going to be much harder than you thought. “What about tv…Do you have any favorite shows?” You ask, and you can hear him sigh before responding.

“No. I don’t watch tv,” he muttered.

“Are you always this stubborn?” You ask, a little put off by his short responses.

Nick’s head shoots towards you, his blue eyes glaring, “I’m not stubborn, I'm just uninterested.” He retorts as he turns back to his laptop.

“In tv shows, or me?” You question, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, instead he rolls his eyes as he continues to tap away at his computer.

You nod slowly, sucking your teeth, “Right, right.” You say, trying to think of something else.

“Movies! Everyone loves a good movie.” You say, leaning over a bit.

Nick lets out a chuckle, “You couldn’t possibly like the same movies I like” he says, glancing over at you.

You shrug, “Try me.”

He sighs for what seemed like the hundredth time, before closing his laptop. Clearly, you weren’t going to let him finish his work. “Okay, Edward Scissorhands.” He says, sitting back in his chair.

You grin before responding, “ ‘Before he came down here, it never snowed. And afterwards, it did.’ ” You quoted.

Nick’s breath hitched, a small smile on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Wow. You’re serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a classic.” You say, grinning, feeling proud of yourself for getting him to smile.

“Okay then,” he says while turning his body to face you, his knees touching your thigh, and your breathing labored. “So would you consider it a Christmas movie?” Nick asks, his head slightly tilted to the side, eyes narrowed as he waited.

You hesitate, somehow this felt like a test, and you refused to fail after getting this far with him.

You scoff, “Absolutely, I mean Edward literally made snow for her. Can’t get more Christmas than that, I think.” You explain, shrugging.

Nick smiles again, nodding his head, seemingly impressed by you, for once. “I can’t believe you like Edward Scissorhands,” he laughs.

“It’s so good, and I just love Winona.” You say, smiling at him, your eyes locking for a brief moment, and you absolutely melt. He blushed slightly, before looking away, hiding a smile.

The rest of the time you two spent going back and forth about different things. Some you agreed on, some you didn’t, but it felt right, you were comfortable. You honestly didn’t think it was possible to like him more than you already did, and for the first time in a solid year, you felt like maybe you had a chance with him.

“Oh my god, yes! I heard that was good too, I just never got around to seeing it.” Nick says, shrugging.

“We should definitely watch it together sometime.” You blurt out without even thinking. Nick just stared at you, a small smirk forming on his lips as he watched you stumble on your words.

“I-I just mean…we could like…I don’t know, hang out, or something? You know, we seem to like the same things…or not, that’s fine. Actually, just forget I sa-“

“Okay.” Nick whispered.

“Okay?…” You grin widely, “Okay, um, how about this Saturday?” You suggest.

Nick chuckled, shaking his head, “I’m almost positive we're both busy on Saturday.” He says, giggling.

You curse under your breath, “Right, the game. Uh, what about Sunday?”

Nick hums, thinking about it, “Alright, but just to be clear, this isn’t a date.” He says, matter of factly, and your heart sinks. You were being friend zoned.

“Oh, yeah, no, of course not. Who would ever think that,” you scoff, your hand running awkwardly through your hair, and Nick’s eyes narrowed.

“Right,” he smirks, “Well, if you’re good with the assignment, I have to get going. Practice is gonna start soon, and I fucking hate being late.” Nick says, while grabbing his things, placing his laptop back into his bag.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, and thank you for your help.” You say as you watch him get up from his seat, slinging his bag on his shoulder.

“No problem,” Nick says as he starts walking away.

“Wait, I don’t have your number,” You call out, stopping him. He comes back, smirking as he takes your pencil from your hand, writing his number in your notebook.

“Use it wisely.” He says before walking off, not bothering to look back as he steps out of the library.

You quickly rip the page out of your notebook, taking your phone out and adding him to your contacts, putting the arrow heart emoji next to his name. You stare down at it once you’re done, smiling from ear to ear. You couldn’t believe it, you finally had your crush's number.

“YESS!” You scream before realizing you were still inside the library. The glares of the other students trying to work sent chills down your spine.

“I am so sorry, I’m just gonna…” You mumble as you scramble to gather your things and leave.

You head out the double doors, and you can still see Nick walking in the distance. Laughing and smiling, surrounded by his cheer friends. Your heart was flipping in your chest as you watched him.

I’ve got to make him mine.

—

signed,

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ❀

a/n: so what do you think? i wanted to you guys to be able to see their beginning, which i know isn’t how au’s usually work, but whatever. i have two more parts that sorta go with this then after you guys can send me some ideas for them! i love youuu 💞

🏷️: @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @freshloveforthefit @sturniolossss @sturniioloslut @ameerahsblog @guccifrog2 @freshloveee @asherrisrandom @dumbf2ck @maliaforstvrns @emely9274 @marrykisskilled @ksturnz @colorthecosmos444 @tyummyz @idrk2292 @leoslaboratory @blushsturns @trevorsgodmother @chrisspussygang @conspiracy-ash @imgoing-backto505 @chrepsi @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @mattslolita @nickssidewitch @toughguymatt @matt-sturnioloo

[bookshelf-dust]

someone worth leaving home for

eddie munson x fem!reader

gif by @cowboylikemunson

word count: 2,695

warnings: some alcohol use, swearing, a little suggestiveness? otherwise pure fluff

synopsis: you’re not really one to go out on the town much. being at home is just…better. but maybe there are some people worth getting out of your pjs for.

a/n: the amount of time this has been sitting, left to collect dust because i just couldn’t get a good footing on it or decide what direction to go in is vile. but i finally did it!! and i think it turned out pretty cutesy. if you’ve been in the market for something fluffy to get through the horrors life brings you, i hope this’ll help. love you!! <33

————

“Will you quit dragging your feet, already? For one, you’re gonna scuff your new boots, which I paid good money for, and for another, we’re never gonna get close enough to the stage if you don’t pick up the pace.” 

Tatum skips ahead of you, her skirt flouncing behind her. You scoff, shoving your beat-up compact back into your purse, along with the wine colored lipstick you’d been applying. “I just don’t understand your obsession with bars. I much prefer drinking at home. In my pajamas.”

“It’s not gonna kill you to come out with me for one night.” Tatum says your name. “Besides, I already told you the lead singer is kind of your type…” The last word leaves her mouth with a sing-songy lilt to it. She pulls open the door to The Hideout for you. “God knows you need some physical affection,” she mumbles. 

“What was that?” you laugh, cupping your ear with your hand. “You wouldn’t happen to be shit-talking your best friend, now would you?”

Tatum flips her hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes shit-talking is the best form of motivation.” 

It’s not exactly light outside, what with the time change and it getting dark so early, but somehow it’s darker inside the bar. There are a few neon signs hung up on the wall, large beer company logos staring you down. Your boots immediately stick to the floor beneath you; peanut shells crunch under your heels. 

It’s the kind of disgusting that holds nothing but nostalgia and a strange sense of comfort. You go to take a seat at the bar, but Tatum is quick to grab your hand, pulling you across the oblong room and in front of a small-ish stage. Your brows knit together. 

“What do you want to drink? I’ll get it. These are the best seats in the house, and I damn sure am not about to let anyone take them.”

You spout off the first thing that comes to mind, hoping it’s even something this place will have. You bring your purse into your lap. “Best seats my ass.”

Tatum slams a glass down on the table in front of you. Your heart smacks against your ribcage. “Jesus fuck!” She laughs when you clutch your collarbones, eyeing the pinkish liquid in your cup.

“These might be the grossest seats in the house, but they sure are good for checking out the band.”

How she even heard your snide comment from the bar, you’ll never know. Tatum takes a swig from her beer, waiting for your eyes to widen. You decide not to give in to temptation. 

“You brought me here so you could ogle the singer in a shitty band in an even shittier venue?”

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Your eyes roll back into your head and you take a long sip from the plastic straw in front of you. “And no,” Tatum continues, “you pessimistic little shit. I have eyes on the drummer—hello. Do you even know me? The front-running guy is much more your type. And he plays like, an electric guitar or something. You know what they say about guitarists…”

“Okay, stop. You sound so sure that you know exactly what my type is, and I just don’t think that’s fair, I mean, I don’t do that to you—holy shit…”

Tatum leans back in her chair, the front legs lifting ever so slightly. She claps her hands and giggles. “Ha! Told you so!”

The back of your hand makes contact with her clammy bicep. She takes it in stride. 

The band, a group of four, has appeared on stage, skin glimmering in what can only be described as a ghostly manner due to the cheap lighting. There’s a guy taking a seat at the drum set with floppy brown hair, an earring, and a ratty gray sweater on. “Does he have big sad eyes?” you ask Tatum, raising an eyebrow. 

She might as well have squealed. “You bet your ass he does!” 

You look at your best friend as the group begins to play a cover of something that sounds vaguely familiar—maybe you’ve heard it on the radio before—but that you can’t place. You won’t tell her, but you’re glad she dragged you here tonight. The love-dazed trance she’s in makes it worthwhile. You’re not gonna let her leave without getting that guy's number.

A quick glance around the place shows you that only a few other people are paying attention: the lone bartender, an older group of men, some possible teens in one of the corners sharing a pack of cigarettes. You swing your head back in the direction of the small stage, shocked to find the lead singer giving you a once-over. 

You can’t decide if you’re intimidated or intrigued. His mouth is just barely pressed against the microphone, his lips twitching into a smirk as you maintain eye contact with him. 

This man doesn’t look like anyone else you know. Sure, he’s got a similar style cut to his hair, the same dark jeans plenty of people wear in such a small town. But he’s the kind of person you can look at and just know that they’re trying to do bigger things. Reach for things bigger than themselves and the lives they grew up having. 

He seems to be wearing a couple different necklaces, a messy stack of brackets on his left wrist, an Iron Maiden shirt that’s been torn more likely from wear than in the depths of a factory. He’s the kind of gorgeous people write poems about. Hell, the kind of gorgeous people paint because they have to document it. Something about his bone structure, his lithe movements, the curve of his throat.

You find yourself unable to look away from him even as you sip your too-sweet cocktail. Your elbow nudges Tatum’s. You’re hoping that by leaning into her budding crush, yours will go unnoticed. Hopefully she’s forgotten about it since you haven’t said anything since he walked out. “You planning on asking for the drummer’s number before we leave tonight?” you ask, smiling when her cheeks flush. 

“I really want to. And they always seem to stick around after they play, to buy a beer or smoke in the alley out back. I mean, I did put on a push-up bra.”

Your shoulders shake with laughter. By the time their set is over, you’re pretty sure you only really knew one song they played—and that was only because your dad likes it. 

————

Tatum glances over her shoulder. You give her a lookin, raising your eyebrows and hands in tandem. She cringes, though it looks more like a victorious smile. She gestures at you with her index finger. Almost done. 

She’s been talking to the drummer—Gareth, you’ve now learned—for twenty minutes. You wish they’d just exchange numbers and head off in their separate directions already. The balls of your feet are starting to ache in your boots. 

You let your eyes flutter shut for just a moment as you relax into the brick wall behind you. God, you feel old. You’re ready for bed. 

There’s a shuffling sound off to your left, the slam of a door. “Shit, Gare, you got a light? Mines out.”

You look up, looking for a face to match with the voice you’ve just heard. It’s the guy from before, one of the others from the band. 

“Yeah, man, here.” Gareth fishes a silver lighter out of his pocket and passes it over. Tatum glances at you, jerking her thumb back in the guys direction. Well, he’s gorgeous, she mouths. You roll your eyes. 

Once he’s lit his cigarette, the still unknown man looks at Gareth and asks, “You about ready to head out?”

You grin to yourself, tuning out the rest of their conversation, their exchange of introductions with Tatum. You’re looking down at a particularly round rock when another pair of boots appear in your line of vision. Your head shoots up.

“Hey,” he grins, “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Eddie. Tatum said you’re with her?”

You let out a short, little puff of air laugh. “I am. My best friend since the seventh grade and the only reason I’m not in my pajamas by now.”

If possible, he’s even prettier up close. There’s a smattering of freckles across his nose and under his eyes. The sly line of a dimple drawing up next to his mouth. The first thought you have about him at this moment is how much you like his hair. 

Eddie chuckles, blowing the smoke from his cigarette away from you. “Ooh, are they good pajamas?” The playfulness in his question catches you a little off guard. 

“They are,” you start. “They’ve got Garfield on them.”

He smiles at you. “Cute. Poor Odie though, right? When’s he get to be on a pair of pajamas?” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I have a t-shirt with them both, so he’s not totally left out.”

Eddie stuffs a hand into his back pocket. “Good. I was worried. What’s your name, gorgeous? You know, so I can look you up in the book if I find some Odie pjs.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed by how quickly you’re being charmed by this man, but he’s so damn cute that you don’t care. You tell him your name. He smiles again, slower this time, and tells you how pretty it is. 

“I’ve never seen you here before tonight,” Eddie says. 

“It’s my first time. Tatum begged me to come out with her, but I know it was really just because she wanted your drummer’s number. Usually I’m happy to drink at home.”

Eddie looks over at your friend standing with his. Gareth is writing something on a gum wrapper. 

“Well I’m certainly glad I got to meet you. You looked very pretty out there. Hope we didn’t disappoint though?”

You wave your hands. “Oh, not at all! I enjoyed it. I liked the mix of covers and originals. You’re very good. You have a…strong stage presence. Very assertive.”

He drops his cigarette, snuffing it out with the heel of his boot. “Yeah?” There’s a sick little smirk on his face when he glances back up at you. 

You hum. “You’ve got that whole…rockstar look about you, y’know?”

“So…is all that stage presence enough for you to come back next week? You’ll only have to be out late one night. If you make it, I’ll buy you a drink. We can keep talking about how pretty you are and how you feel about my assertiveness.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Trying!”

The both of you burst out into giggles, enough so that Tatum and Gareth look over to see what’s wrong. 

A yawn from you interrupts the gleefulness. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling at you. His eyes take on a pretty sheen. “I’ll let you go, alright? Before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

You stick your hand in your purse and rummage for a pen. “You have anything for me to write on? You know, so we could talk a little more and I can answer your question.”

Eddie never has shit on him. Suddenly he pulls out his pack of cigarettes, flipping it over and handing it to you. You snort down at the little box, but scribble your number in the white space anyhow. “I can also apologize for my shitty flirting,” you tell him.

“Practice makes perfect,” Eddie says. 

Tatum skips over, grabbing your hand and blowing a dramatic kiss at the two men behind you as she drags you away. “Goodnight, boys!”

————

“What the actual fuck are you doing?”

Eddie appears in the living room, a pair of ratty and worn pajama pants sitting on his hips, a hand in his tangled hair. 

“What’s it look like?” 

He tilts his head in order to make eye contact with you. “Some weird Exorcist shit.”

What he’s referring to is your downward dog pose. You took up yoga a little while back, not only because it gave you something new to do, but it also helps keep you grounded. This is not to say you’re perfect at it, but it’s fun. 

It’s been just over two months since you met Eddie. He’s always felt like he’s gotta do a hundred things at once, like he’s constantly on the go—being pulled in all these different directions. Wayne used to tell him that if he didn’t learn to relax, one day his head was gonna fly off and his body would just keep on running. 

Somehow being with you, being with a total homebody, has mellowed him out. He can’t quite explain it. Maybe the chemicals in him finally evened out (he thought that was part of puberty or something). Really it’s because he’s never really understood being grounded—not until you. 

“You can join me,” you tell him, lowering yourself to sit on your haunches. “If you want. It’s just some stretching.”

He settles onto your carpeted floors, pressing a warm kiss to the center of your forehead, his hand cupping the back of your neck, thumb caressing your hairline. 

“You gonna drag me to the hospital when I throw out my back?”

“Of course.” He watches, enamored, as you shift your position. “Here, I’ll show you my favorite one. It feels really good for your hips.”

You get into a child’s pose, letting your knees fall wide so that your hips open up and relief runs up your spine. The effects of sleeping in the fetal position—an Eddie glued to your side no matter how much you move. 

You look over at him and blink. Hesitantly, Eddie attempts to copy the way you’ve folded your body. His knees just won’t do whatever it is yours are doing. They’re not very spread and his back is a little too hunched.

“Shit,” he fusses. “This shit hurts! Must be some feminine magic or something. How are you not in pain right now?”

“Here, try this one instead.” Eddie gets into a cobra pose much easier. His back cracks and he groans.

“Baby, honey, sweet fucking woman of mine—I genuinely don’t think my spine was made for this.” He sits back down, mesmerized when you do a pigeon pose, saying how good it feels and how your mind quiets for a few minutes. 

Eddie chuckles to himself. Your head pops up. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing…I was just thinking that I also know of a few ways your mind could get real quiet.”

“Eddie!” you shriek, reaching out to smack his arm. “Be serious.”

“I am—”

“Come on, just do this one with me, okay? If you throw your back out I’ll give you a massage or something. Besides, relationships are about compromise! Think about how many pairs of my shoes are all sticky because I like you so much that I get dolled up and follow you to a hundred different bars to hear you sing.”

“A hundred is a bit of a stretch. But, I digress. I will try this with you, m’lady.”

Your body makes a triangle as you return to downward dog, coaxing Eddie with you. His hair falls away from his eyes and your gaze travels to the soft skin of his tummy, the sparse hair below his belly button. It’s at that moment that you realize Eddie is also eyeing you. His eyes are glued, very obviously, to your ass. 

“Eddie, this is supposed to be relaxing, stop ogling me!”

“I saw you over there. You were being a perv with those eyes, babe. Don’t act like I'm the only guilty party.”

“You first! You always start staring first.” 

“You’re right. And if I didn’t have a staring problem, you wouldn’t be doing this with me right now.”

“Technically, I made the first move.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“Yes, I did!”

“No, you really didn’t.”

You swipe at Eddie’s ankle, knocking him off balance. You shuffle quickly across the carpet, burning your knees but not caring. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already, Munson.”

Eddie just about tackles you, cupping your face and bringing you flush to his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[yogurtkags]

❝ DON'T BE A STRANGER ❞ — itoshi rin

tags. gn!reader, reverse hurt/comfort, mild angst, brother troubles, spoiler warning! set after the U20 game, hand holding, childhood friends, written with a platonic relationship in mind but it's up to interpretation → wc: 0.9k

there's helicopters over my head / every night when i go to bed / do you feel ashamed when you hear my name

rin finds comfort in knowing that you stayed when no one else did

masterlist

rin never thought much of his teal eyes, never quite understanding why you love them so much.

to him, it only served as a cruel reminder of his brother who has a matching pair that’s equally icy, seemingly devoid of feelings and love, just stone cold and unimpressed.

every time they bore into yours, he can’t help but feel almost bad, reluctant to taint the pure, comforting presence your gaze holds. there’s constantly black swirling behind his corneas, a thick dark energy that he can never seem to get rid of especially on the field, like a veil that blinds him, casting shadows into this vibrant world that he lives in and makes it anything but. he never did hold eye contact well with you anyway, even since you were kids.

rain’s pouring down into the stadium from the open roof, showering the astroturf in a glistening dampness. he stands right smack in the middle of it simply staring upwards disregarding the barrage of droplets pattering on his face, wetting his hair and potentially causing him to catch a cold, but against his bettter judgement, he decides that’s a problem for tomorrow.

rin often keeps his troubles stewing and brewing in that head of his, always keeping things to himself and never letting anyone in past the threshold. as you stand five feet away with an umbrella over your head, you watch him, keeping your distance and letting him make the call.

despite the weather, you don’t miss the sheen of moisture along his bottom lash line.

“he came up to me just to praise isagi, he never really did care about me even though i bested him in that moment.” he dryly chuckles, shaky words laced with an age-old resentment, spilling from a quivering lip bitten raw. “i don't know what else he wants from me.”

your heart sinks at the knowledge, eyes softening as you take in his hunched frame. he's standing tall, height still imposing but there's a droop to his shoulders and a tension so palpable, you don't even need to be up close to see it.

you know very well how much his older brother's departure and sudden change in demeanour affected rin, having been there to pick up the pieces both times. you understood sae must've gone through a lot in spain for him to get to that point, but he was evidently too harsh on the poor bright-eyed boy who simply wanted to continue chasing the innocent dream he shared with the one he looked up to.

staying silent, you take a tentative step towards rin, and when he shows no sign of discomfort, you take another, and another, until your shoulders brush against each others. you're keenly aware that there's not much you can do to mediate whatever's going on between them, but as you lift the umbrella over the both of your heads, you do what you do best, cover him from the storm, even if it's just for a little while.

as you take his larger hand in yours, you keep your grip firm yet gentle, something for him to hold onto, anchor himself to until the anguish in his heart simmers for the time being. despite his rough, dominating style of play on field, his hands remain soft save for a few callouses from intensive training and exercise, much like his heart hidden behind the impregnable fortress he's build brick by brick.

it's rare to see him cry, usually composed and headstrong. seeing him crumble beneath his own expectations and his brother's lack of acknowledgement leaves a pang of guilt beating in your chest, never knowing the true extent of how much it weighed on him until this very moment.

“he—” he stutters, words clipping against his tongue, “how can he just leave everything behind?”

“cast me aside like mum and dad, walk away and leave me in the dust like he did those years ago, like all i am to him is a shameful shadow of his past." the last part is unspoken, but you can tell what's running through his mind by the way he clamps onto your hand, the motion desperate and vulnerable, like if you let go, you'd disappear just like he did.

you don't tell him that his grip is hurting you, if that's the only way you can bear at least an ounce of pain he's experiencing, you'll take it in a heartbeat. instead you squeeze back in kind, praying it speaks to him in a way your words can't begin to convey, hoping it's enough to soothe his weary heart.

the two of you stand there in the middle of the field until the rain lightens and his tears slow, until the tension leaves his body with just a shell of exhaustion, your thumb drawing circles against the back of his hand. only now he looks at you, fringe sticking to his forehead and cheeks painted in tracks of dried up tears.

his expression leaves little for the imagination, but the lack of bite and edge in his aquamarine eyes is a sight that lifts a small smile to your face, one that speaks of relief and reassurance, of permanence, that you'd be there through the wind and the waves, the sunshine and the storm.

and as you lightly tug him towards the exit with the slight jerk of your head, you don't let go of your clasped hands, a silent promise that you're here to stay.

taglist. open (link to form) @saucejar @somniachant @returntothefae @daisy-room @stellar-headquarters

@whatisnureotypical @haruhi269 @cherrysurf @cyxjz

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[almostmylove]

Shatter me with your love. part 3

warning: neglect?

synopsis: a night through out Gotham without worries

“ what the hell are you doing kid?” That's the first thing you hear from cat woman that was now towering over your shaking, sobbing body.

Your silent weeps quickly turn into something that could have been considered ugly hiccups as you look up at her, dumbfounded. You don’t respond to her question but only stare for what feels like a eternity, you almost swear you could hear your tears dripping down onto the ground like a rainy night .

your eyes blink, pushing the dangling tear that snaps you out of your trance, remembering her question that you had forgotten because of shock and you scramble to answer .

“ well i just -, im not-i was just-” you stumble over your words as you try to speak, only managing to further fumbling over your quivering lips.

You would of never thought that one of Gotham’s well known and prettiest( in your opinion ) criminal would out of nowhere start talking to you so it caught you off guard. You had never spoken to her before or really know a lot about her, only hearing about her thru looking in newspapers and small comments from your father.

Over your incoherent rambling on what had happened you stopped upon hearing an annoyed sign from cat woman, making you hyper aware of everything. it was hard to believe one of your favorite villains was standing in front of you, paying attention to you( at least more then your father did)

Your tears dripped onto the dirty city floor, cat women’s gaze on you, how your hands clenched on your side or how you were slightly shivering from the autumn weather and your face felt like rubber unable to change your face from panic and suffering, your face feeling a bit too hot as if you were a cartoon character about to burst from anger, how runny your nose had been and how alone and desperate for love you felt.

The only thing to keep you warm was a small black scarf around your neck That was wrapped a bit too tightly for your comfort but you didn't to move

You were weak, unlike your brothers. You had always known that, from the time that your mother got thrown into a mental hospital to. well .now.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a latex gloves hand waving in your face , it was cat womans. She had offered her hand up to and you were not about to refuse now.

“Get up , don’t keep me waiting kid. ” she said her voice a hint of annoyance but her face seemed more say than annoyed . You take her hand and it feels awful warm despite it being covered by a latex glove. Not in a bad way tho but the kind that feels that would give warm hugs.

You never knew why she wore all latex because to you it would be very uncomfortable and inconvenient but at the same time you couldn’t really judge because your adopted dad was a middle aged billionaire that dresses up every night to fight crime in Gotham and never fully stops them because of “morals”.

Standing up makes something more apparent to you. she is a lot taller than you thought, you were up to her waist at the most.

“ thank you” you tell her shyly, you didn't why you were thanking her but you just wanted to. You stood tall , looking around around, trying to ignore the awkward silence consuming you both . “ there is nothing to thank me for , i did nothing” You could feel cat woman trying to analyze your face till something clicked in her mind. “ hey” she calls out to you, making your eyes shift to hers “ you're one of Bruce Wayne's kids no?” She question with curiosity. Her statement made you pause, freezing in place. you weren't ready for anyone to pay attention to you, let alone recognize you,

Even tho you knew it was dangerous engage with a villain but you responded either way( she looks nice enough).

“ yes ma’am that's me”

“ im gonna ask you again and give me you're going to give me straight answer, ok? “ she commands , her voice authoritative yet concerned

“ im not sure myself , i guess i was being dramatic” you chuckled to yourself , hoping she wouldn't pry and make you confess your dramatic reaction to being pushed out the way.

She signed dramatically putting her hand on her forehead as is she was getting a headache. “ fine if you don’t want to tell you dont have to. Just stop sobbing like a baby, its annoying.” She exclaimed.

Her eyes wondered around you before kneeling down to get on your level. “ i see your feeling a bit down , why don’t and you and i take a stroll around Gotham, what do you say” said says , her voice a calm and soothing tone. You didn't know why but you let your guard only respond in a reluctant hum. “ well i dont think my fathe-” you were interrupted by catwoman's voice “ listen kid, if he really cared wouldn’t he be with you”

The silenced that follow after wards was very loud but you knew she was correct. You had been out and away from the gala for over 20 minutes and no sign of them. None of them .

So in that moment you accept. No one else had comfort or even checked up on you like that in years, no even alfred. That night she took you all over gotham. From quickly (and nicely) robbing an icecream stands and eating it on a roof top to going to going to one of gothams only beaches that luckly wasn’t literally with trash. She even gave you a toy of your favorite character that you had talked about . You didn't have the heart to tell her that you had bought your own toy of the same kind. Through the night you got to know quickly a lot about her like how she was a mob boss once or that her sister was driven insane. You too shared personal stuff which took a invisible weight off your shoulders and you started to feel like you too started to bond. She offered to take you back home herself but you refused in fear of the off chance that she would try to rob the manner or that the cameras surrounding the manner ( installed by Bruce) would see you guys. You had her drop you off a few blocks away and you watch as she hopped from building to building like a sly cat tho you knew that she had followed You the whole way home, keeping you from getting robbed on that Gotham night. You never really knew why on that night she helped you out and you never got a chance to ask her after that. Once Bruce and your brothers came back from the gala they asked where you had gone and you told them a cheap answer on how you got tired and decided to walk home. You knew that Bruce didn’t fully believe you- , if he did then he wouldn’t be greatest detective in Gotham- maybe even the world, after that none of the payed any futher

It has been years since that night and your relationship with your “family” has gotten worse.

[cheol-e-kat]

Hiii, I just wanted to start by saying that I recently found your blog and am in love! <3 <3 For your special 3-3-3 bingo I wanted to ask for bodyguard with drunk confession and brave x Scaredy cat, NSFW is praise kink with Seungcheol? Like maybe her dad hired him, they're at a gathering and something goes wrong or she's scared so he has to take her back at her parents place, where she drunk confession? But if you have any better ideas, which I think you may have seeing from your writing, then just change it, I don't mind at all! <3

I hope you have a great day and keep writing, you're so amazing at it!

first, omggg anon you're too sweet & i'm so glad you like my writing ㅤ♡ㅤ♡ㅤ♡ weirdly i have had this banner hanging around and idk it seems like it fits your ask, soooo anyway let's see if i can come up with something you like - oh but i think i failed a little on 'scaredy cat', oops

♡ kat

bingo squares: bodyguard + drunk confession + brave x scardey cat + praise kink

Pairing: choi seungcheol / f!reader

summary:  y/n has had a bodyguard for some time - and she’s had feelings for him for almost just as long, even if he thinks she’s a brat. But what happens when he goes to a party with her and there’s gunshots?

word count:  1.4 k

genre: fake dating, bodyguard!seungcheol, forced proximity, 

Rating: 18+, MDNI, explicit

Warnings: mentions of guns and shooting, drinking, penetrative sex, explicit language

“so how much is my dad paying you to babysit me?” y/n asked, sipping her drink.

he shrugged, “enough to put up with you,” he sipped his mineral water. 

she arched a brow, “‘put up with me’?” she asked, incredulous, “me? i’m the problem in this equation?”

he pursed his lips, as though he were giving consideration to what she had asked, “you’re…” he trailed off. 

she was ready to punch him in the arm.

he smiled, “you’re more complicated than the kinds of jobs i usually have,” he swigged his mineral water like it would give him some reprieve from the conversation.

she gave a heavy sigh, “complicated how exactly?”

he glanced at her, “you’re kidding, right? where are we right now?” he waved his hand around to demonstrate the location, “you’ve brought me along as your ‘date’ to some friend’s engagement party - never have i ever had that happen before,” he whispered, with a small smile, knowing he had gotten under your skin by pointing out the situation.

“look, if i can’t leave the house without you, why not put you to good use?” she pouted. 

“my ‘good use’ is making sure you don’t get hurt, y/n.”

he had at least stopped calling her by her family name, which had been acutely obnoxious - to her anyway. he’d been virtually living with her for eight months. to her, living with anyone for eight months, meant dispensing with formalities. 

not to mention she had seen him in his underwear. she had been up late grabbing some water and staring into her fridge, thinking about a snack, but she had been eating healthy at the time, which meant she was light on snacks. so she had gone scrounging - and she screamed when she thought she saw a mouse. 

and her screaming meant seungcheol came out of his room to check on her, wearing boxerbriefs and carrying a handgun, which was oddly sexy. 

also, she had pegged him as a ‘boxers-only’ guy. but no, she had definitely gotten a very good idea of what equipment he was packing and the mental picture of his very perky ass seared into her brain. 

she glanced at him, knowing he looked painfully good in the suit he had picked - it went along with her outfit well. 

“you could have just stayed home then, or you could have outed me to everyone here - you certainly know enough about me to make them all at least call me ‘eccentric’,” she leaned on the railing, looking out over the massive party. 

everyone was ‘someone’ or related to ‘someone’. and she was mostly just bored. if seungcheol weren’t there, she would have probably been a nuisance just for fun, reminding the groom that he had slept with half the bridesmaids. something like that anyway. 

but no, for some reason she felt like if she caused even just a tiny scene while he was there, then maybe he would get blamed, or he would go back to thinking she was childish. 

that’s what he had called her initially, a “bored, childish, rich girl” with no clue about the real world. he said it so vehemently that she had slammed her door in his face, and told him to fuck off when he tried to apologize. 

she hadn’t talked to him for a week - she would only communicate via text, even if they were in the same room and alone. which may have proved his point, but he had hurt her feelings. and maybe she had been feeling petty. 

she stole a glance at him - she liked his profile more than she should. she probably liked him more than she should, not just his profile. she liked everything about him. but she was fairly certain he still considered her a tolerable idiot, at best.

which depressed her. and required that she grab another drink from the waiter who came around. maybe several more. and when she was a bit more lubricated and still considering making some trouble, the thin thread of seungcheol approving of her maybe wasn’t quite enough to tether her to reality. 

if anything, it was almost better if she just settled for his disapproval, she reasoned, then she wasn’t chasing some fragile illusion. 

she must have been on the verge of something great though because he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her towards a door. she had no idea where they were headed - they went through offices until they hit a stairwell. she couldn’t have been doing anything so offensive that they were taking the stairs. but when she pulled out of his grip, he was quick to grab her back. 

“for once, just do what i’m asking without arguing,” he said, voice low and sharp. 

she tried to pull away, but he had her in a vice-like grip. and then she heard the sounds - gun shots. and she was frozen for a moment, but she felt the tug on her wrist. seungcheol pulling her, trying to keep her safe. she stopped to pull off her heels and then she was running with him. 

her head swam violently as they exited out into the underground car park. until he grabbed her waist and pulled her close, kissing her, backing her into a wall. she felt the rough cement against her naked shoulders, as his hands rushed to touch her and his mouth rushed equally to kiss her. she wound her fingers in his hair, pulling him close, not caring how needy and desperate she seemed. 

it took several, long minutes for him to break their kiss. he pulled away so slowly, his fingers still gingerly resting on her skin. she watched him for a moment, and she could see it - if she didn’t pull him back, he would talk himself out of it and make an even higher wall between them. 

“don’t stop, seungcheol, you don’t know how much i want you,” she whispered, voice tender and urgent. 

he stayed close, but glanced at the door they had just come through, “we need to go,” he whispered, his fingers still played gently across her skin. 

she didn’t budge. 

“y/n,” he stared, “this - we have to leave,” he stepped closer to her, pressing his body flush against hers, “let’s go home?” he asked softly.

she finally nodded, following him out to the street, walking down a few blocks before grabbing a cab. he didn’t give the driver her exact address. they took a winding way back to her house, going through the back gate and the side door. he didn’t let go of her hand, not even when they were inside, the doors locked and the alarms set. 

he kept her close. when she started to turn on the lights, he stopped her - his hand grasping hers gently and pulling it away from the light switches. 

and suddenly he was near again, pulling her close, kissing her softly, “come put me to bed?” she asked in a hurried whisper. 

he nodded, “anything you want, princess.”

she loved that they both rushed to undress one another, all just to feel skin on skin. he pushed her back gently onto the bed - his fingertips grazed gently against her thigh, as he looked at her. 

“so perfect for me,” he murmured, “so beautiful.”

she flushed brightly, reaching for him, “need you,” she pouted.

he nodded, with a smirk, “i know.”

she bit her lip softly, “we were having a moment,” she caught his hand and pulled him down roughly to join her on the bed. she moved so she straddled his hips - she pressed her hands flat on his stomach, loving his smooth skin. 

she stared at him before leaning down, she kissed him gently, “you’re perfect too, gorgeous, even,” she breathed against his lips, “you’re all i want, all i think about.”

she kissed him again, leaning forward, and reaching down between them, pumping his already hard cock, she lined it up with her dripping pussy and pressed herself back, taking him all the way in.

she moaned against his lips. she sat up slowly, adjusting to the stretch and the feeling of being so full. she rolled her hips slowly before she started riding him the way she had imagined a thousand times. 

she could hear him, the way he breathed hard and urged her own. his hands tracing over her stomach and hips, reaching up for her breasts. 

she didn’t care when they changed positions - when he was behind her, fucking into her, pulling her back towards him, she knew she was arching back towards him. and she came undone, falling back against him - his orgasm following hers - his cum filling her, dripping down her thighs. she gasped softly as they came apart. he pulled her close, falling back onto the bed. 

“please don’t leave,” she whispered into the soft darkness. 

soooo, dearest anon, i hope this is as good as you wanted it to be...it maybe got a little more serious than i meant, but oh well - here we are

♡ kat

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♡ seungcheol: knotting + marking || professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) || monster || spanking (neighbor seungcheol) || big dick + hate sex || forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) || voyeurism + punishment || coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (untitled alpha!!cheol pt. 1) ||

♡ mingyu: lingerie + praise kink || bed sharing + big dick || praise + worship kink || vehicle sex + oral fixation || drunk pda + no underwear || enemies to lovers + tentacles ||

♡ seungcheol & mingyu threesome: oral ||

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[tobiosbbyghorl]

Only For You | psh

his pov her pov

I never expected to fall for you.

It started small, barely noticeable—stolen glances in the hallway, catching sight of you laughing with your friends, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were focused in class. At first, I convinced myself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Just boredom.

But then, I found myself looking for you in the crowd every morning.

You weren’t popular in the flashy, untouchable way, but people naturally gravitated toward you. Maybe it was your warm presence, or the way you always had something to smile about. It annoyed me at first. How could someone be so carefree? I, on the other hand, had a reputation to keep—top student, athlete, always composed.

And yet, I started craving your attention.

At first, I thought it was funny. I wasn’t the type to go out of my way for someone, but with you? I did things that felt out of character. I took the long way to class just to pass by your locker. I sat near you in the library, pretending to read while secretly stealing glances. I’d stand a little taller when I knew you were looking. It was ridiculous.

Then, one day, our worlds finally collided.

It happened after school. I was heading to basketball practice when I saw you struggling with your bag—one of the zippers had broken, and your books were slipping out. Without thinking, I walked over and helped you gather them.

“Thanks, Sunghoon,” you said, looking up at me with a grateful smile.

I froze. You knew my name?

I cleared my throat, acting like it was no big deal. “You should get a new bag.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

That was it. A simple moment. But for some reason, it replayed in my head all day.

After that, things changed.

We started talking—small conversations at first. Passing by each other in the hallways, exchanging a few words during break time. Then, somehow, we ended up exchanging numbers. It happened so naturally that I almost didn’t process it. One day, I just typed, Hey, it’s Sunghoon, and waited.

When you replied, my heart did something weird.

And so it began.

Our messages started simple.

Me: Did you finish the history homework?
You: Barely. I almost fell asleep.
Me: Not surprised. You looked like you were struggling in class.
You: Rude. I was concentrating.
Me: Sure.

Then they became a habit.

You: Morning! Did you eat?
Me: Yeah. You?
You: Not yet. I’m running late.
Me: Figured.

Somehow, checking my phone became the best part of my day.

I didn’t expect to care so much. But every time I saw your name light up my screen, I felt something new—something dangerous. It was a slow realization, creeping up on me like the changing seasons. I started thinking about you when you weren’t around. I caught myself waiting for your texts, hoping for random messages just so I had an excuse to reply.

I was falling.

And it scared me.

Because for all the words we shared, I didn’t know where we stood.

Every day, something grew between us—something unspoken, fragile. It was in the way our conversations lingered, in the way your laughter echoed in my mind long after you were gone. But I didn’t know what you felt. Did you see me as just a friend? Did you even realize how much space you had taken in my heart?

One night, I found myself staring at our messages, my fingers hovering over my keyboard. My mind was a mess.

I wanted to say something—Tell me what I mean to you.
But I typed something else instead.

Me: Don’t sleep too late. Get some rest.

A minute later, your reply came.

You: I will. You too, okay?

I sighed.

That wasn’t the answer I needed.

But for now, it would have to be enough.

The more we talked, the more I wanted to be around you.

It started with messages, then small conversations at school, and before I knew it, we were spending more time together outside of class.

At first, I made excuses.

“Library after school?” I asked one day, pretending it was just about homework. “I heard the teacher’s making the quiz harder than usual.”

You groaned. “Ugh, I hate history.”

I smirked. “Yeah, I know. That’s why you need my help.”

That was the first time we stayed behind after class, sitting across from each other at a quiet table in the library. You were supposed to be studying, but I caught you doodling in the margins of your notebook. I flicked your forehead with my finger.

“Focus,” I scolded, biting back a grin.

You pouted, rubbing your forehead. “You’re so mean.”

And for the first time in a long time, I laughed.

It didn’t stop there.

After that, we found more reasons to be together.

Sometimes it was “accidental” meet-ups—like when I conveniently showed up at the cafeteria line at the same time as you. Other times, it was intentional. You’d wait for me after practice, saying you had “nothing better to do,” even though I knew you could’ve gone home earlier.

“You really like basketball, huh?” you asked one evening, watching as I packed my gym bag.

I shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t sound very passionate.”

I smirked. “I just don’t like admitting things.”

Your lips curled into a small smile. “Oh? So what else do you like but won’t admit?”

I froze.

You didn’t realize it, but that was the moment I almost confessed.

Instead, I rolled my eyes and said, “Food.”

You burst out laughing, and I knew I was doomed.

One Friday afternoon, I finally mustered up the courage to ask you to hang out outside of school.

“Busy this weekend?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.

You looked up from your phone, blinking. “Hmm? No, why?”

I shifted my weight, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “Thought we could grab something to eat. There’s this new cafe that opened downtown.”

For a moment, you just stared at me. My heart was racing.

Then, a smile slowly spread across your face. “Are you asking me on a date, Park Sunghoon?”

I coughed. “I— No, I mean—”

You giggled. “Relax, I’m kidding. I’d love to go.”

I exhaled, pretending I wasn’t relieved. “Good. Saturday at two.”

You saluted me playfully. “Yes, sir.”

And just like that, I had my first official date with you.

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

I arrived at the cafe early, which wasn’t like me at all. Usually, I was the one who showed up last, but today, I sat there, pretending to scroll through my phone while secretly checking the entrance every five seconds.

Then, finally, you walked in.

And I swear, everything else blurred for a second.

You weren’t dressed in your usual school uniform, and seeing you in casual clothes—hair slightly messier, expression bright—made something flip in my stomach.

“Hey,” you greeted, sliding into the seat across from me. “Did you wait long?”

I shook my head. “Just got here.” (Lie.)

We ordered drinks, and as we sat there, talking and laughing, I realized how easy it was to be with you. It wasn’t like the forced small talk I had with other people. With you, everything felt natural.

At one point, you reached over and wiped something off my cheek.

I stiffened.

“There was a crumb,” you said, grinning.

I cleared my throat, looking away. “Thanks.”

You giggled. “Are you blushing?”

“No.” (Another lie.)

The more time we spent together, the harder it became to ignore the truth—I wanted more. More than just friendship, more than just late-night messages and shared jokes.

I wanted you to be mine.

And so, a few weeks later, I decided to take the risk.

It happened after another one of our after-school hangouts.

We were walking home together, the sky turning shades of orange and pink. The air was cool, and every now and then, our hands would brush. I told myself it was an accident, but I didn’t move away.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence.

You looked up at me. “Yeah?”

My heart was beating way too fast.

I swallowed. “I like you.”

Your steps slowed. “What?”

I exhaled sharply. “I like you,” I repeated, my voice steadier this time. “I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I don’t want to just be your friend.”

You stared at me, eyes wide. I braced myself for rejection, for awkwardness, for anything that might tell me I just ruined everything.

But then—

You smiled.

And just like that, my world tilted.

“Took you long enough,” you teased.

I blinked. “Wait—”

You laughed, reaching for my hand and intertwining our fingers. “I like you too, Sunghoon.”

For the first time in forever, I was speechless.

And in that moment, I knew—everything was worth it.

©️tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

[silkenwinger]

konig x reader

cw for home invasion and kidnapping of sorts. 18+, mdni. inspired by that scene in anora, if you know you know. rich brat reader but she's justified

“I told you to release me, you motherfucker!” You try freeing yourself again, opening your mouth and bending in order to try and bite his arm, but he holds you with both arms on your middle, keeping you steady on his body. You try kicking at him again, but you can’t get enough leverage to truly hurt him and instead you just flap around, uselessly. 

This isn’t how you envisioned your Saturday night going, and you’re getting more pissed by the moment. Home on your sabbatical, you were thinking more along the lines of Nobu takeout and a nice hot bath in the jacuzzi. Just as you were watching a new episode of your favorite show, three men entered your house looking for your father, claiming to be employed by him. They did so with a key. Of course, you didn’t take the home invasion well, no one would seeing masked strangers when they’re alone. You didn’t have time to get the gun you knew was in the house before the hooded tall one caught you, though. Despite trying desperately to get away from him, he was way too strong to escape him: just too much of him to go around. Your judo lessons from ten years ago aren’t paying off right now.

“I don’t know where he is! We barely talk nowadays,” you whisper the last part, not keen on discussing your whole family history. Them having the key only confuses you more. Your father is getting old, but you don’t think he’d give full access to robbers. Or at least, he could do that when you weren’t home!

“Well, anyway Miss Lady, your father told us to come look for the documents when we had time. The time is now, so if you please.” The bald man in a black coat says, hands on his knees, his words insulting but tone gentle, like he’s speaking to a child. He must be the brain of the operation, because the other two haven’t spoken so far. The shortest of the men keeps wandering around your house, observing the decor like he’s in a museum or flipping through Vogue. At least he isn’t touching anything, but is he fucking whistling? 

“I don’t fucking know what documents you want or where they are,” you whine, your neck hurting. Chasing relief, you relax your neck, but you end up laying your head on the face of the man who’s holding you. You can hear him inhale near your hair through the mask he’s wearing and that makes you freak out again.

“Let me go!” You scream out again, trying to headbutt him now. He silently dodges your hits until you tire of it, not releasing a single noise.

“König, just tie her up. She can guess where the documents are without her hands,” the bald man declares, rustling in one his pockets, handing the man behind you some plastic ties. As he shifts to reach them with one of his hands, König changes his hold on you, settling you higher on his lap. The new position brings your thigh to brush against a non-identified hardness. There's a second of silence before you turn your head and look at König, blue wide eyes staring back, and then you open your mouth to start screaming as loud as you can. Unfortunately, he covers your mouth with his gloved hand, hushing you.

“Sorry,” is the first word he says to you. What's worse is that he sounds legitimately apologetic. Because he popped a boner and not because he's kidnapping you in your own house. 

“Horangi, come help,” he speaks again, voice more worried than you’d expect, the hint of a foreign accent. The one tourist in your house reaches you then and takes hold of your wrists so that König can tie your hands. 

“No…” you cry, voice muffled by the hand on your mouth, eyes filling with tears now that escape feels impossible in your mind given that there are three of them and they’re tying you up.

“Listen, darling,” the bald man speaks again, “we have no intention to hurt you. We’d like to keep working with your dad, but this is an emergency. I get why you’re scared, I really do, but if you tell us, we’ll be out of your hair in a second.” Every nerve in your body is telling you to not trust him, but your mind is different. It reasons that you can at least try, and maybe he’ll let you go. Maybe. König removes the hand from your mouth when he feels your lips move against it. 

“T-There’s the studio upstairs… on the right… you can check the desk,” you mumble while König gets down to tie your ankles. At least he isn’t being too rough, but he does check that the plastic band holds, his hands skating on your shins when he’s done. 

“Bring her upstairs,” the leader orders, already turning and making his way up the glass stairs. You’re expecting to be dragged by the brute by the scruff on your neck, so the surprise when he wraps an arm around your back and the other under your knees is palpable.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim finding yourself being bridal carried by the militia-assigned soldier of shady origin. König doesn’t answer, but instead walks up the stairs, unbothered by carrying you.

To both you and your kidnappers’ dismay, you can’t find the documents they want. You’ve tried every nook of your father’s studio, before the more obvious solution finally reappears.

“H-Have you called him?” The bald man rolls his eyes with more sass than he has any right to have, “Of course. Your dad seems busy.”

“T-Try aga-” You’re interrupted by a crashing sound coming from downstairs, the fright making you retreat further into König’s chest, his hands holding you tighter.

“Ivan! I know you’re in there!” It’s your father’s voice resounding through the open space, your hope immediately kindled again.

“Dad!” You yell out, and it’s indeed your father and some other guards accompanying him, including the ones you’ve known since you were a child.

What happened was that apparently, huh, there were some payment issues with the one company your father has engaged for… unknown reasons. You are not allowed to hear. All you know is that your father isn’t particularly surprised to see you tied up, and orders König to take you to another room while he speaks to Ivan. König carries you to your room and settles you on the bed, more gently than you expected.

“Free me,” you tell him immediately, presenting your bound wrists. He takes out a portable knife and cuts the band. Then, you do something not advisable against a person with a knife. You slap him. As hard as you can and twice, first your right hand and then the left. It’s hard to gauge your impact with the mask on, but you hope it hurts. He stills for a second.

“You’re a fucking pervert,” you spit out. König recovers and lowers to his knees to cut the plastic tie on your ankles, wisely taking a step back before you can kick him the mug. Then, he sits on the ground, back against the side of the bed, his legs so long they almost reach your mahogany desk. You should still feel in danger, but for some reason you find yourself not caring about whatever is going on in the other room. 

Minutes pass. You ask him if you can go out and he tells you no. Your anger rises again.

“I should kill you for what you did to me,” you say, but you’re not really serious. You don’t think you could even trip this man, let alone take one of his weapons and kill him with it. König doesn’t seem offended at your remark, his head lowering on his chest, almost as if he’s relaxing on an armchair back home. You hit his neck with your heel, wanting to bother him.

“You heard me? I. Should. Kill. You.” No reaction. Irritated by his unmovingness, you bend over and grab at the hood, intending to take it off his head. 

The world spins. König grabs your hands to take them off his mask, and is now holding you under his body, your head under his neck. You can feel the heat coming from his body, your legs under his, and you reason this is what he felt when he had you on top of him. You drop the hood really quickly. One of his thighs shifts and slips in between your legs, rubbing against your clothed clit and sending a spark of pleasure up your spine. Unconsciously, you choke out a noise. König moves again, removing himself from top of you and fixing his hood to his liking. Then, he looks at you straight in the eye.

“Who’s the pervert now, uh?” He asks rhetorically, and you can feel the sardonic smile through the cloth layer. Ashamed and defeated, you punch your pillow a dozen of times while he settles back into his previous position.

//

When your father calls for you later, he doesn’t even hold you or hug you. Instead, he sends you a credit transfer of 3000 dollars and announces König and Horangi will now officially work for him as his private guards. Your sashimi salad seems gummy when you exchange a look with König, now sitting at the table with you, and you swallow nervously.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

nah cuz mean david loki is hella hot but then when he’s in you he completely melts and whines like a bitch

I’m gonna rip my hair out.

Bother

- Detective Loki

This gif makes me cum sorry

Summary: Seeing you talk back to him, David gets more bothered than he should, in ways he definitely shouldn’t.

Warnings: arguing, degradation, groping, semi public sex, mirror sex, change of dynamics, David is pathetic, piv sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1379

Notes: Hey, so this is ass. I still wanted to give this a try even though I’m not very good at writing mean characters. Hope you find it alright still xx :)

══════════════════

If there was one thing David liked, it was being in control. Or at least feeling like he was. However, this didn’t mean that he never lost it.

Working for him entailed being bossed around a lot. There was never a moment to catch your breath, but continuous tasks, one after the other, for 8 hours straight. File this paper, call that department, email the forensics, go through the CCTV footage, copy this transcript. Through all of this, David remained stoic and stern, even though his wandering eyes told another story.

This way of work didn’t usually bother you; in fact, it was nice not being bored. But on bad days, God, you wanted to rip David’s head off. And if he got frustrated enough, his clothes too. On this particular day, you couldn’t make yourself do anything but stare at the wall and linger by the coffee machine. It got on David’s nerves; it was obvious by the way his forehead vein showed with the clenching of his jaw. With his work ethic, he couldn’t wrap his head around your slacking. He also couldn’t wrap his head around why this made him want to push you up against the wall instead of slamming your head into it. The latter bothered him the most.

“You didn’t send out that email,” he pointed out when you came back from the coffee machine, again, cup in hand. “Sorry, I’ll get to it. Just tired today,” you excused yourself; he didn’t seem to care. You weren’t weak, but getting told off felt horrible, so you complied. “We’re all tired today,” he mumbled back as if to say, ‘I don’t care if you’re tired. Do your job.’

You sat back down in the uncomfortable office chair, put your coffee on the desk, and opened your computer back up. Dear Pavlikovsky,. Regarding the skin cells collected from the steering wheel in the Finch case… You could finally think of words and actually put them into text. But life wasn’t going to be that easy, so to even it out, your elbow knocked your coffee cup over, spilling its contents across your desk before you were able to catch it. “Jesus Christ,” David sighed, “Can you do anything?” Like you needed to hear that, like you weren’t already pissed off at yourself and him. “I’m trying here!” you said back, accidentally raising your voice at him. He didn’t like that, not at all. “Yeah? Well, you should try harder,” he countered, matching your volume.

This was your final straw. You got up and left the room, making a straight line for the restrooms. Fuck this job, fuck David, and fuck Pavlikovsky. You pushed the door open and stepped into the tiled room. All the stalls were empty this time of day, thank God. You turned on the sink before splashing your face with water, drying it, and sighing. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, trying to collect yourself. 1, 2, 3, 4… But then the door opened, which was weird since you were the only woman left.

“Hey, no need to barge out like that.” Sigh. His voice was lower, but neither kinder nor calmer. “Why not?” You looked at him through the mirror, and for once he didn’t look like a dictator waiting to point fingers. “Because I like to be respected,” he explained while stepping forward, standing a foot behind you. He looked down on you in the reflection, with his arms crossed and eyes blinking compulsively from frustration. “Why should I respect you if you don’t even like me?” Maybe you should have kept quiet, but it was time to rip off the band-aid anyway. He snickered at this, at you. “I don’t dislike you.” David felt himself abandoning his morals as he took a step forward, pressing his crotch against you. “But I can’t stand you constantly disrupting me.”

Why he did this, he had no idea. Or he knew why he wanted to; he just didn’t understand how he could have. But as you had abandoned your tasks and disrespected his orders, his mind had gone elsewhere while his blood rushed to his groin. Control was slipping away.

It took a second for you to register what was happening, widening your eyes once you realized that your laziness wasn’t going to be punished but rewarded. You weren’t complaining about the change of events, not at all. In fact, this might get you back on track. Seeing this authoritative man fighting to keep his composure had arousal swirling in your stomach. His nostrils flared as his breathing deepened, seeing his crotch pressed up against you.

“I won’t stop you,” you admitted even though you still had some anger lingering. David looked relieved for a moment, a rare sighting. He placed one of his hands on your ass, making you lean your upper body against the sink and press back up against his erection. “Do you always slut yourself out like this?” he asked you, but didn’t back off. Instead, He pulled your pants down and squeezed the exposed skin.

Even though you had a hard time understanding his thought process, you didn’t question him. Especially when you saw him undo his pants in the reflection. You weren’t going to ruin this. You backed up against him once again. He hummed quietly through gritted teeth, still trying to maintain control.

“You did this,” he pointed out; it almost sounded like a threat, before pulling your panties down. The sight stirred him up, made him twitch in his boxers. He ran a finger through your folds, scoffing at your wetness, making you blush with embarrassment. He pulled his cock out, stroking it a few times before lining himself up. His breath grew shaky when your wetness warmed his tip; his eyelids even fluttered. He was slipping out of it.

He pushed in and whimpered like a bitch as your warmth hugged him. You couldn’t help but grin to yourself. You weren’t the slut here; he was. Getting riled up seeing you pissed off and then following you to the bathroom, hoping he would be granted some relief, that's pathetic.

He was moving inside of you slowly, too slowly. Realizing how weak he was made you take the wheel. So you pushed yourself onto his cock, without warning or concern. His nails dug into your hips as he whined at your sudden move. His mind kept telling him to keep his focus, to not lose himself. But he did. He was expecting to fuck you, not to be fucked. His plan had crumbled.

His hips made weak thrusts as you fucked yourself on him, mindlessly moving. The view in the mirror made your stamina feel infinite. His furrowed brows and slack jaw. And the cries spilling from his mouth were like a drug, making everything electric and your brain fuzzy. David thought he was going to melt into a puddle; he hadn’t had sex in so long he had forgotten how fucking good it could be.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he mewled and gripped your skin tighter, forgetting how strong he was even when he was being pathetic. His hands would come to leave purple bruises on your hips. “You’re a weird fucking guy, David.” You scoffed as you tried to keep your tone strict amidst your struggling breaths. To your surprise, David’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your words. Regret built in him, which for some reason made his arousal do the same, making him feel even more ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in his strained, high-pitched, whiny voice.

You upped your pace, making him fully moan. His noises bounced off the cold tile, echoing through the room. His hair was a mess; strands were falling down over his face. You almost felt proud, betting very few people ever got to see David like this.

He came with a loud whine; it almost sounded more like a sob. The fact that you had your superior cumming inside of you was a rush. You backed away from him, pulling off of his cock. “So this is why I bother you,” you turned around and huffed, “Just let me know next time you're horny so I don’t have to make a scene.”

[luigilore]

hey!! just stumbled upon your blog and i just wanted to send love to the offline anon cause I felt that deeply! i wanna be involved more in the world, think more, learn more etc etc. i can kinda see myself as the spontaneous anon, and the offline anon in one. but one thing about me is that i love to learn about anything, about people, about nature, about life. i am only 21 and i don’t have much with me. 😅

but can you imagine just listening to luigi about any topic, the way his deep eyes brighten, the crows feet crinkling so cute, and the lines of his face twisting while he explains excitedly about biology or nature, or a book he read. you guys are facing each other, knees touching and he’s motioning with his hands. the light is shining off his face in almost a cathartic way, and you can’t help but smile at his beautiful soul and intelligence. taking in every word and sentence he’s giving you, he will also ask your opinion and listen so attentively to you, not looking away and nodding to everything you’re saying. when you ask him a really good question, he does a little head tilt and raises his eyebrows in that sexy way of his. “baby, that’s a really good question.”

can you also imagine waking up in his arms in the morning with the sun shining on his handsome face? he’s so relaxed, the mole on his face squished into yours. he has his arms wrapped around yours like a koala snuggled into your back while you try and gently move his arms from your body.it’s 6:30am, and you’re wide awake. you don’t want to wake him up to go on a daily hike so you try (emphasis on try) and move out of his reach, but all he does is pull you back and trap your legs with his (even while asleep). you’re giggling at him quietly. when he turns the other way, that’s your opportunity to pop out the bed and write him a note of where you’re going and when you’ll be back. you’re halfway through the door when you hear, “baby! are you going on a hike? lemme join you.” 🥹

HELLO!!! <333 hi lovely!! yesss sm love to 🤯 anon changing lives with offline!reader... and yes i totally get it what you mean! i really want to be more present in my life in general and ik other ppl have mentioned this but luigi really did inspire me to get back into reading and also just embracing being authentically and earnestly interested in things??!! earnesty is so sexy🩷

omg the detail here im going crazy ugh thank youuuu… you guys could literally talk about anything and you do lol like it's so easy to just talk for hoursss and luigi would be so cute when he’s excited about something he’s passionate about... like he’s always animated but it goes crazy when he’s excited !!! it’s late at night you’re alone and feel like maybe the only two people ever... maybe you're at the beach and it's late at night, feet in the cool sand he’s explaining something about science or the book you’re reading together. (btw obsessed with the idea of you guys sharing books passing them back and forth and by the end of it your books are annotated by both of u🥺) omg and he would be sooo attentive when you're talking, staring at you with the softest, most endeared smile that it makes you automatically flush when you meet his eyes... after u finish he'd just randomly be like “god, i love your voice” UH

STOPPP... your limbs are still tangled together, still in the same position you fell asleep in last night, his arm is wrapped around your waist and face settled in the crook of the neck. the sun is barely starting to rise and you feel his steady breathe on your bare shoulder... omg you try to wiggle very carefully out of his arms and he just snuggles up right next to you and pulls you in even closer and throwing a leg over yours... when you're finally about to leave he's loudly stumbling out of the bedroom with a messy bed head and rubbing his bleary eyes, muttering ‘give me five minutes’ (and he really does only need five minutes lol) so u oblige <3

[slutforvoldy]

“ ILLICIT AFFAIRS. ” ( lando norris ! )

SUMMARY: an illicit affair between the reader and lando spirals into heartbreak, leaving behind only stolen moments and broken promises.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: angst, infidelity, taylor swift references, mentions of y/n.

pairing: lando norris x female!reader

IT WAS WRONG. You knew it was very wrong. To be someone’s forbidden fruit—a mistress. You knew the risks and the consequences of your impulsive actions. Yet, you felt no ounce of regret.

You hated yourself.

You hated how you let yourself sink into this.

You hated how you kept falling into bed with him, knowing he belonged to someone else. A wife, even.

You hated how selfish you had become.

You told yourself you could stop anytime. But you never did. Maybe it was the thrill. The secrecy. The pleasure. The stolen moments that made you feel wanted.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. You never wanted this to happen. But with Lando Norris, it all felt too good.

It all began at a Formula 1 afterparty—a world of dazzling lights and champagne-fueled celebrations. One glance across the crowded room, and your eyes met with a pair of green eyes staring right back at you.

And somehow, that's how your story started.

You started sneaking around, making excuses, whispering lies to those who asked where you were, telling them you'd be going out for a "run." In reality, you were having sex in the backseat of his car.

Months passed.

Secret meetings. Stolen glances at parties. Midnight rendezvous that left you breathless. Every whispered promise, every fleeting moment of passion made you fall deeper for the British guy.

You craved the rush.

The way his gaze burned into yours across a crowded room.

The way he said your name, like it was the only thing that mattered.

The way his touch ignited something in you—something dangerous, something irresistible.

And then, one morning, everything changed.

“Let’s talk. 4 PM”

The formality of the message sent a wave of unease through you. Something was wrong. You felt it in your bones.

But you ignored the warning bells and went anyway.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

Lando’s voice was steady, but the weight behind his words crushed you. He leaned back in the dimly lit café—the place that had become your hidden world.

Your breath hitched. Your mind raced, scrambling for an explanation.

How could he say this so easily?

What happened to all the promises?

And most importantly,

Why now?

“W-what?” Of all the things you wanted to say, that was all you could manage.

“Baby, don’t—”

“Don’t call me baby!”You snapped, your voice raw with heartbreak.

Lando shut his eyes, exhaling heavily.

“You made me look like an idiotic fool,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Look at me, Lando. Look at this godforsaken mess that you made of me!” You cried out, not even noticing the sorrowful tears that you shed.

“I love you, Lando…” The confession slipped out before you could stop it. For the first time, you said it aloud.

For the first time, it felt real.

His eyes widened. For a moment, he looked at you like he might say it back.

The silence between the two of you was so loud. It was deafening. Just the two of you gaping at each other.

But then he looked away, feeling ashamed.

“I’m going to be a father, Y/N.”

The words hit you like a crashing wave, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your body went cold.

Your heart shattered.

Silence stretched between you. The air felt suffocating.

You had no right to be jealous. No right to be angry. You were just the mistress. The secret. The sin.

He would always choose her. You should have known.

You should have seen this coming.

It was your fault for believing his empty words.

Stupid, stupid girl.

“I hope you understand… my family needs me,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You remembered the times when you would lay against his chest, naked under the bedsheets, with him muttering sweet words against your ear, and you giggling while you were wrapped around his arms.

“I love you,” he had whispered before. “I can’t wait to be with you forever.”

“But what about your wife?” You asked looking up, doe eyed and staring at his green eyes. His green eyes that started all this mess.

“Does it matter?” he had murmured, brushing a kiss over your lips. “I’ll always love you. No matter what.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Lies.

Lies.

Lies.

"Any man would be lucky to have you, Y/N. I really valued these months with you," he said now, as if his words could soften the inevitable goodbye.

You let out a hollow laugh. "So, that’s it?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

You stared at him, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the way his fingers fidgeted, the way his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say more.

But he wouldn’t.

And even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything.

For the first time, you truly understood what you were to him.

A secret. A mistake. A fleeting indulgence that he could afford to leave behind.

You inhaled sharply, forcing a smile onto your lips—one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"Have a good life, Norris."

His jaw tensed. He gave you one last look, something unreadable in his expression.

“I love you, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

You clenched your fists. “You’re making this harder. Just go, Lando. Please.”

A heavy sigh escaped him before he stood. The rustling of his clothes filled the silence.

You watched him walk away.

You watched him glance back at you.

You watched him leave.

And just like that, it ended the way it started—

Stolen glances filled with unspoken words.

Only this time, they clung to the remnants of their so-called love.