#i feel i never get anything back - no thank yous no understanding no improvement

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[pericky; a look into ricky's head during their meeting.]

---

"I'm glad you came, I wasn't sure you would." The wine pours, the sound of it drowning out the missing word in that sentence: back.

Of course, is the response, and the part of Ricky that's spent twenty years tearing itself apart to understand why vibrates with relief. It doesn't matter anymore. Of course, of course, he thinks giddily along with the words. He never needed to wonder why Pericles wasn't coming back in the first place; he was always going to.

I'm happy you invited me, and of course he thinks again. A lifetime of pretending he wasn't always going to either falls away. However harsh and lonely the world has been, all's right with it again; and the shy voice of the boy inside him that he's tried so hard to kill says, so quietly, I missed you.

[xinganhao]

🍨 svt spoiling their partner.

★ prompt: how ot13 spoils their partner? 🥹🥹🥹 i am just a girl give me treats c/o @shinwonderful

ⓘ established relationship, pet names, fluff. headcanons under the cut. special thanks to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping! ♡

🍨 read more?

seungcheol 𖹭 planning dates. he will refuse to let you lift a finger for your day out. everything will be meticulously laid out, finetuned to be something that you'll enjoy. his goal is to lessen the mental load of decision-making and planning; he wants you to be able to focus solely on enjoying the surprise, and he'll break his back to make sure that happens.

jeonghan 𖹭 'parallel play'. even if the two of you might not be interested in the same things, that's okay. he's happiest to spend quality time with you at home, where the two of you are free to do your own thing within eachother's presence. just being in your vicinity already makes him content, and so he plans everything around the two of you getting to explore and share your respective hobbies.

shua 𖹭 acts of service. need help with your taxes? need someone to fill up your tank? he's already on it. he'll say that these are all 'little things', call it the bare minimum, when it's apparent that he makes it a conscious effort to make your day-to-day easier. his brand of spoiling you comes in the form of quietly doing things that will improve your quality of life.

junhui 𖹭 buying clothes you'll like. he can't help it, really. when he sees an article of clothing that he thinks suits your style? when he finds a local brand that shares your advoacy? he's already pulling out his wallet. he likes the idea of dressing you up. nothing makes him happier than knowing you're wearing an outfit that he entirely picked out for you.

soonyoung 𖹭 daily reasons why he loves you. people always joke that he has a bit of a motormouth, so why shouldn't he use it on talking about you, you, you? he's big on words of affirmation, on making sure you never doubt how he feels for you. he'll point out the little and big things that make him adore you, and it's never the same reason twice.

wonwoo 𖹭 indulging your interests. he may not always understand these trends— blind boxes, must-have fashion pieces, et cetera— but he'll never make you feel bad about it. if there's anything that you want, he's already doing everything within his power to get it. his greatest joy is seeing your face light up once he's gotten you your 'priority' item; it's why he keeps doing it in the first place.

jihoon 𖹭 trying new things for you. there's a long list of things that jihoon never thought he'd do, but then he started dating you. time and time again, he willingly goes out of his comfort zone to accompany you on the little adventures and experiences that you ask to go on. he does these things scared, does them anxious, does them begrudgingly,— does them all for you.

seokmin 𖹭 meals he thinks you'll like. he's the type to have dozens of tabs open for homemade recipes dot com. he knows he's an amateur at this, but he's undeterred in trying. whether it's a trending pastry on tiktok or the comfort meal that your mother makes you, he's determined to learn it so you're always eating well.

mingyu 𖹭 getting-to-know card games. he gives as good as he takes, which means mingyu's way is to listen and remember. a night where the two of you can just have deep conversations with no interruptions is his ideal evening. he will know he succeeded if the two of you end up talking until the sun rises, feeling like the hours haven't passed at all.

minghao 𖹭 postcards from tour stops. he loves art and he loves you. his postcards are pocket-sized reminders of those facts, always packaged with a few choice words that are sweet and sincere. his trinkets are very "i-got-you-this-because-it-reminded-me-of-you" in nature, and you know each one was purchased with you at the front of mind.

seungkwan 𖹭 getting you your favorites. he figures he should put his industry connections to use somehow. he's always amused by how happy you get over a rare photocard, signed album, or concert tickets, and so he keeps it up. buying dozens of albums, contacting other labels, bearing the arduous ticketing. your excitement at the end of it makes it all worth it.

vernon 𖹭 producing songs. he hadn't really pegged himself as the making-music-for-the-sake-of-it type until he met you. now, he revels in getting to send you a track that's for your ears only. all the lyrics just seems to flow naturally when it's you inspiring him, and so he sends you works-in-progress with reminders that you're the only intended audience.

chan 𖹭 at-home massages. he's all too familiar with the aches of an ailing body, so he knows exactly how and where to work on you. he always does what he calls 'the works'— a good bath, scented candles, essential oils. he lets you take your time, and he takes his time with you in helping you unwind.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[theonewhopoops]

Wait do normal people really see their bodies as part of themselves and who they are and not just something they happen to inhabit and they make the best of it/just accept it/learn to live with it???

Apparently I can only add a poll by editing it in and not by reblogging but here:

[genderqueerdykes]

In a weird way, it feels like this is the only blog I can ask this and know that I'll get a 100% honest answer to my question, without having to worry about reading subtext. (Thank you for that) you've mentioned you don't want man hating lesbians here (valid) and if that applies here I'll back off 100% but like.

What if I specifically hate Cishet men. What if I don't take issue with queer men at all, just the cishets? Geunine question, just in case, because I know this could read as like trolling or something, and I do understand that basic language dictates yes it'd apply but I'm stupid & not sure, and I know that even if it's a harsh or brutal reply, you'll still give it to me straight. (Thank you for that too, my autistic ass struggles with subtext a lot.)

While I have reasons for feeling the way I do, I'm not sure they matter in this context. And that's okay.

i'm glad that you want to have a genuine conversation about it, i really appreciate that! the only way to learn and figure things out is to ask questions

at the end of the day, this behavior still affects queer men. cishet men can be queer- they can be intersex, aromantic, asexual, genderqueer, gender non conforming, drag artists... "cishet man" does not inherently mean someone who is not queer. there are many ways to be queer outside of being gay, bisexual, and/or trans. and even then, this behavior gets dangerous fast because strangers you perceive to be cishet men very well can be anything but that. someone you clock to be a cishet man may be a closeted trans girl, a trans man, a non binary person, a butch lesbian, and so on. you treating that person like they're an inherent danger causes a whole host of issues

this attitude is also why trans men, trans women, and non binary people are being forcefully removed from queer communities. if a queer person reads or passes as a "cishet man," they are treated with hostility and asked to leave in a lot of cases. we cannot allow the concept of manhood and perceived manhood to be viewed as something to be avoided and cast out, because it affects so much more than just cishet men. this attitude affects a LOT of closeted and non-passing trans women. honestly, that's who this hurts the most. it hurts trans men and enbies, but it really hurts trans women. it creates a standard where they have to overperform femininity and womanhood in order to be seen as "safe", and it's not okay.

projecting your issues with a small handful of people on to an entire group does not help. you have not been harmed by the concept of cishet men- you have been harmed by specific cishet men. in permanently labeling cishet men as bad people, this creates an ultimatum where they can never improve. hating them by virtue of them being cishet men creates a standard that cishet men will ALWAYS be terrible, and that they can't improve or learn. this creates an environment where no one challenges these behaviors and it makes the cycle even more toxic and abusive

it's okay to not want to spend time with cishet men, but saying that you hate all cishet men really isn't a good look. it's not the way to go about living a happy life. assuming that every single cishet man on this planet will hurt you or be a bad person strictly by virtue of being a cishet man is exactly what cishets do to us. this is how queerphobic cishet people look at trans women. there's no reason to do it back. we have to learn not to stereotype entire groups of people, no matter who they are

the concept of cishet men has never hurt you, and it never will. cishet men are not your enemy- patriarchy is. not every single cishet man benefits from patriarchy, either. intersex men, men of color, gender non conforming men, ace men and aro men are treated like absolute shit for not conforming to the toxic masculinity that patriarchy pushes. patriarchy also harms men- we must stand alongside men who are being chewed up and spat out by this machine. cishet men are not inherently bad people- we are grooming boys and men to be hostile, emotionally closed off, and violent. this is not an inherent trait of cishet men, but rather a societal issue

i hope that makes sense! in general it just really sucks to stereotype an entire group of people. it doesn't help anyone. the concept of cishet manhood hasn't hurt you and it never will. cishet men can still be allies. i've had lots of cishet male friends who weren't transphobic or even homophobic. the first person in my irl life to switch to using my proper pronouns at the time was a cishet man. he never screwed up my pronouns once, he never questioned my gender identity. cishet man does not mean inherently violent, dangerous, and evil. the more we teach men that they don't have to be this way, the more they will follow.

hope that helps! take care!

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 1

summary: When Lando’s “playboy” image is setting a bad reputation for him. He’s turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: none (i don’t think)

This is my first time writing, I hope you all enjoy and if there’s any advice you guys can give me to improve please do!!

“Please, please! You’re my best friend. I just need this one favour!” Lando begs following you around at a quick pace.

“Exactly Lando” you sigh before continuing “I’m your best friend and as much as I love you I just don’t think it would work or be realistic” you shrug, taking a bottle of cold water from his fridge

“Why? Why don’t you think it can be realistic! Fans accuse us of being together all the time because of how close we are! The only thing that would have to change would be not denying it…and maybe kissing” he whispers the last part

“Kissing!” you shout choking on the water “We’ve done it before!” he defends “Yeah when we were like 11!”

“And 14, and 17!”

“You’re not helping yourself Lando”

“Please, it would just have to be for a few months then we could say we were better off as friends. Please. I don’t want to be in a PR relationship with some random model who’s looking to gain attention for a brand” Lando sighs, visibly upset

“Can you give me time to sleep on it? You know I love you but I don’t want this to come between our friendship”

“We’re strong, think of everything and everyone that tried to separate us before we never let them come between us”

“Which is why I can’t risk loosing you, there a difference between a girlfriend not liking me that tries to separate us and faking a relationship Lando”

“I understand” he nods “I promise you, you will have an answer before the start of the race weekend. I’m gonna head to bed now okay. I love you” you hug him tightly before heading to the spare room in his apartment.

It wasn’t the first time you had turned down Lando, in fact he had asked you out every year from the age of 14 until you guys were 18 before he finally realised that you wouldn’t work.

It’s not thst you didn’t like Lando, you loved him and maybe you did have feelings for him. But the thought of loosing your friendship because of relationship scared you.

For most hours of the night you lay in the bed of Lando’s spare room at his apartment in Monaco, that was quickly known as your room, thinking about what Lando said.

You supported him before his career even started and Lando’s reputation with girls certainly wasn’t the best. The media painted him to be a “playboy” and “unloyal”, which in some senses he was. He had never cheated on his previous girlfriends but he did date his ex’s friends and colleagues.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a harm to pretend for a few months? But what if your feelings began to grow stronger and you may not be able to go back to the way you were with Lando?

Lando was the same just through the wall, his feelings for you never left him. All the girlfriends he had he never felt for them what he felt for you, which was terrible but also why he was now single. He wanted you to say yes, he wanted you to agree but he didn’t want his feelings to get in the way, especially when he didn’t know that you felt the same way.

The next morning, you woke up to the usual clatter of plates from the kitchen. Which never meant anything good.

“What are you attempting to make this morning Mr Norris?” you laugh watching him by the pan “French toast but it’s not going well” he answers not taking his eyes of the food

“Well for starters, you’ve completely burned the bread. Would you like some help?” you ask holding back a loud laugh “Please”

The two of you started over, putting the uneatable food in the correct bin. You focused on the food while Lando focused on the coffee.

“There you go Lan”

“Thank you, how’d you sleep last night?” he asks putting the food in his mouth “To be honest, not great i’ve been thinking about what you said”

“You have?” Lando asks dropping his food “I will help you, if you promise me that we will still be best friends at the end of everything”

“Pinky promise”

part 2

[p0orbaby]

Finders Keepers

summary: you’re good at catching things, leah’s eye is one of them

warnings: a little suggestive

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 2k

-

You’re the new goalkeeper coach for the Lionesses, which is great, except for one glaring problem: Leah Williamson. She’s distracting, in the way that a house fire distracts you from finishing your cup of tea. You’ve never coached a team that required so much attention to detail, and you’re starting to understand why. You need every neuron firing just to remember how to breathe when she’s in the vicinity, let alone when she’s talking to you.

And she talks to you a lot. It’s not always about goalkeeping either, which is alarming, because you’re really only equipped to discuss which angle to cover or how to improve reaction time. Instead, she wants to talk about where you’re from, what you think of London, whether or not you like Thai food. She asks you about your star sign once, which is bizarre because you’re not sure if she believes in that sort of thing or is just trying to make you sweat. You lie and say you’re a Pisces, mostly because it seems like the least offensive answer, and she nods like that explains something.

You try to keep your interactions professional, but she makes it difficult. For instance, Leah has a habit of “accidentally” bumping into you. She claims it’s because she’s got bad spatial awareness, but you’re fairly certain she just likes the way you flinch when she does it. You’ve read somewhere that “accidental” touch is a sign of attraction, but you’re not sure if that applies when the person doing the touching has the coordination of an european champion.

One day after training, she lingers on the pitch while you’re gathering up cones, which you suspect is an attempt to chat you up. She watches you with a smirk, and you can feel her eyes burning into the back of your head like an exceptionally focused laser pointer.

“You missed one,” she says, pointing out a cone about three feet to your right. You didn’t miss it, but you pick it up anyway because you can’t think of anything better to do.

“Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to meet her eyes, because when you do, it’s like looking directly at the sun. Leah Williamson is a human eclipse, and you’re about to go blind from prolonged exposure.

“No problem,” she replies, not moving.

She’s still standing there when you finish. You’re holding a bag of cones and looking for an escape route, but she’s planted herself directly in your path like she’s grown roots.

“You’re not running off, are you?” she asks, with the kind of grin that makes you wish you’d pursued a career in something less perilous, like bomb disposal.

“I was thinking about it,” you admit, and she laughs, which is a mistake because her laugh does things to you—dangerous, uncoachable things.

“You’re cute,” she says, and now you’re actively searching for the nearest exit, because if she keeps this up, you’re going to do something really stupid, like ask her out for coffee or give her your social security number.

“Uh, thanks,” you stammer, clutching the bag of cones like it’s a life preserver.

She tilts her head, clearly amused by your discomfort. “No need to be nervous,” she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to relax when Leah Williamson is standing less than a foot away from you.

You’re not nervous, you want to say, but that would be a lie, and you’re not about to start lying to yourself, not when you’ve done such a good job of repressing your feelings up until this point.

“Well,” you say, taking a step back, “I should probably—”

“Want to get a drink?” she interrupts, like she’s asking you if you want to grab a sandwich, and you nearly drop the cones because your brain can’t process the words coming out of her mouth.

“What?” you blurt out, because that’s all your synapses can muster.

“A drink,” she repeats, like it’s the most normal thing in the world for a player to ask out their coach. “You know, alcohol? Liquid courage?”

You’re pretty sure you’ve just suffered a minor stroke, because the world tilts sideways and your pulse goes through the roof. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you manage to say, which is the understatement of the year, considering the fact that you’ve spent the last three months trying to convince yourself that Leah is just another player on the team, and not the walking, talking embodiment of temptation.

“Why not?” she asks, and you can tell by her tone that she’s genuinely curious, like the idea of you turning her down is as foreign to her as the concept of gravity.

“Because,” you start, then pause, because you don’t have a good reason, and she knows it.

“Because?” she prompts, raising an eyebrow.

“Because it’s unprofessional,” you say finally, as if professionalism is something you’ve ever been good at.

“We’re not at work now,” she points out, and you hate that she’s right. You hate that she’s standing so close to you that you can see the tiny freckle just above her left eyebrow. You hate that you want to reach out and touch it, trace the shape of her face with your fingers.

“Leah—” you start, but she cuts you off by taking a step forward, closing the gap between you. She’s close enough now that you can smell the faint hint of her shampoo, something fresh and citrusy that makes you want to bury your face in her hair and never come up for air.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she says, and it’s not a question.

-

You don’t know why you go. Maybe it’s because you’ve never been particularly good at saying no, or maybe it’s because the idea of Leah waiting for you is too tempting to resist. Either way, you find yourself standing outside the pub, staring at the sign like it’s going to give you the answers to the universe.

Inside, Leah’s already at the bar, leaning against the counter with the kind of casual confidence that makes you wonder if she’s ever had an awkward moment in her life. When she spots you, she grins, and it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

“You made it,” she says, as if there was any doubt.

“Yeah,” you reply, because what else can you say? I’m here because I’m an idiot? I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you? I’m here because I’m trying really hard not to fall in love with you and failing miserably?

“Drink?” she asks, holding up her pint glass.

“Sure,” you say, because if you’re going to make bad decisions, you might as well make them with alcohol in your system.

She orders you a drink, something that tastes like it should be served in a coconut with an umbrella, but you don’t complain because it’s delicious and also because Leah’s eyes are twinkling in that way that makes your stomach do somersaults.

“So,” she says after a moment, “why don’t you want to go out with me?”

The question hits you like a freight train. “I never said that,” you protest, but your voice is weak, like you’re already losing this battle.

“You didn’t have to,” she replies, taking a sip of her drink and watching you over the rim of the glass. “But you’re not very good at hiding it”

“I’m not?” you ask, horrified at the idea that your feelings might be more obvious than you’d like to admit.

“Nope,” she says, popping the “p” in a way that should be illegal. “It’s written all over your face”

“Oh.” You stare into your drink, wondering if it’s possible to drown in a pint glass.

“But it’s okay,” she continues, and now she’s leaning in closer, her knee brushing against yours under the table. “Because I’m not really good at hiding it either”

And that’s when you know you’re completely, irrevocably screwed.

-

It’s not a relationship, you tell yourself, because relationships require labels, and what you and Leah have is more like an ongoing series of bad decisions strung together by moments of sheer idiocy.

You try to keep things professional, but it’s difficult when she keeps showing up at your door with that grin and that laugh and those hands that seem to know exactly where to touch you to make your brain short-circuit.

One night, after you’ve spent far too long convincing yourself that you’re strong enough to resist her, she shows up at your flat with food and a bottle of wine. You know it’s a trap, but you let her in anyway, because you’re a sucker for Thai fried rice and bad decisions.

You spend the evening on the settee, eating and drinking and pretending like you’re not going to end up in bed together by the end of the night. You watch some terrible low budget comedy that Leah picked out, and you’re about halfway through when she starts inching closer to you, like she’s trying to be subtle but failing spectacularly.

“You’re sitting awfully close,” you point out, because it’s either that or spontaneously combust from the proximity.

“Am I?” she asks innocently, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Yes,” you reply, but you don’t move away, because if you’re going to go down in flames, you might as well enjoy the heat.

She grins, and then her hand is on your thigh, fingers tracing patterns that make your heart race. “I think you like it,” she says, and it’s not a question.

“I think you’re trouble,” you counter, but you don’t stop her when she leans in and kisses you, soft and slow, like she’s got all the time in the world.

You kiss her back, because you’re weak and because she tastes like wine and because you’re tired of pretending like this isn’t exactly what you want.

The rest of the movie is forgotten as you tumble into bed together, a mess of tangled limbs and breathless laughter. It’s fast and frantic, like you’re both trying to make up for lost time, and when it’s over, you’re left lying there, staring at the ceiling and wondering how you got here.

“Don’t think too hard,” Leah murmurs, her head resting on your chest, and you can feel her breath against your skin, warm and steady. “You’ll hurt yourself”

“Too late,” you mutter, but you don’t push her away, because despite everything, despite all the reasons this is a terrible idea, you like the way she feels next to you.

“We’re a disaster,” you say after a while, because the silence is starting to make you anxious, and you’ve never been good at sitting with your own thoughts.

“I know,” she replies, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “But we’re a fun disaster”

You can’t argue with that, so you don’t. Instead, you close your eyes and let yourself drift off, hoping that when you wake up, you won’t regret this as much as you probably should.

-

You start seeing each other regularly after that, though you both refuse to call it dating. Dating implies a level of commitment that you’re not ready to acknowledge, and anyway, this is more like…mutual self-destruction with benefits.

You try to keep it a secret from the team, but you’re fairly certain they’re onto you. Especially after that time Leah practically tackled you during training because she “tripped” over her own feet, which would be believable if she wasn’t literally the most coordinated person you’ve ever met.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell her later, as you’re trying to pry her off of you in the changing room, but she just laughs and kisses you on the cheek, because apparently she’s incapable of taking anything seriously.

“I’m your idiot,” she replies, and you hate how much you love the sound of that.

You’re not sure how long this can go on before everything blows up in your face, but for now, you’re content to keep making the same mistakes over and over again. After all, if you’re going to screw up, you might as well do it with someone who makes it fun.

And Leah Williamson, for all her flaws, is nothing if not fun.

Even if she is going to be the death of you.

[bonbonly]

Wait because why do I need to hear more about college lando like I feel like he would be into corrupting his innocent friend IDK MAYBE IM JUST SELF PROJECTING AT THIS POINT

Sorry if this didn’t make sense bonbon I’m running off like an hour of sleep 😭

-🎃

no no dont apologize! 🎃 anon you are onto something here ok

bon's thoughts (18+)

collegeau!lando. ok im writing this and had like the filthiest thought come into my mind oh my goddd but i can see you being top of the class, sitting in the front and answering all the questions in class. lando's sitting in the back, sleeping most of the time but there's rare occasions when you drag him to the front and he watches you raise your hand and ask questions that impresses the professors. he's a bit jealous, but then realizes that instead of trying to be like you, why couldn't you be more like him?

you're so innocent and sweet, it all comes to plan when he invites you to the library late at night. you never went to the library at night, only the morning because you always rambled on about how 8 hours of sleep was required for a good day. he reasons that its a friday night, it's ok and that was the only reason you show up in the private study room. you open the door and see him stroking his cock, eyes glued on his laptop as he's taking notes.

"lando?" you frown, eyes traveling to his hard cock. he waves at you, greeting you with a smile, though you can't seem to understand what he's doing, "lando what's going on?"

"oh, this? this helps me study!" he smiles, going back to stroking his cock as he's reading the notes you sent him earlier in the day. you frown,

"really? i know almost every study technique, i-i've never heard of this," you reply, tilting your head to get a better look at him.

"that's because only i use this technique, i found it out one day but i can't seem to perfect it. i just... i just think im not good at it. could you help me out?" lando asks, and you nod your head. you'd do anything to help your friend!

he directs you to your knees, and has you under the table. he's this close to giggling, he can't believe how innocent you are... how stupid you could be to let him do this to you! this is so much fun to him, and he presses his thumb into your mouth, opening it gently before guiding you down on his cock. he nearly cums right there, your mouth feels like heaven. he's having you suck his cock the whole night, your throat is covered in just his cum and when it's around 5 am, you're whining about how he ruined your sleep schedule.

"but you helped me study!" he exclaims and you shrug your shoulders,

"I guess so... as long as it helps you to study."

and so for the rest of the semester (and maybe for the rest of your years at uni) every friday night consists of you sucking on lando's cock, he even goes so far as to have your pussy wrapped around him as he's fucking into you like a madman, refusing to elaborate how exactly this benefitted his studying but you're very thankful that his grades are improving, somehow.

you're still top of the class, don't worry about that, lando would never ruin your education like that. but it was really funny to see you sitting in the front row with his cum dripping down your thighs, cock drunk to the max because now you're insisting you can only study with his cock stuffed inside your cunt.

that's a win for him.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 9 - Next

You banged on the door of the room where that man was locked up, waking him up abruptly.

"Let's talk"

Jimmy: "I thought visiting hours were over."

He complained, turning around to turn his back to the door.

"Don't try to be funny with me, Jimmy. What the hell did we do to deserve so much hate from you?"

Jimmy: "Don't play innocent, you know very well what you did!"

"Honestly, I have no idea! That's why I'm asking you!"

Jimmy: "Of course, because I was always the shadow of your dear husband. You never turned to look at me again after you got with him, you never smiled at me like you did with him, you didn't even speak to me. It was as if I were invisible to you!"

"Oh, of course I was looking at you!"

Jimmy: "Then why didn't you ever tell me anything?!"

He shouted that, getting up from his bed to head towards the glass that separated them, watching your face to see you when you replied.

"BECAUSE I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!"

You screamed with all your lungs, to the point of making your throat hurt.

"You always brought trouble to Curly! He was always so naive, a sucker for approval, of being the good guy in the story, of not letting anyone down! That's why he never abandoned you! I knew better that's why i stopped talking with you! Because you were and are a piece of shit!" 

Jimmy: "Oh, but you talk as if I were the only fucked up one in the story."

"Yes! I admit it! I was also a mess when I met Curly, but I did something, I was able to see beyond that mess I was, he showed me that I could improve, he gave me opportunities that I knew how to take advantage of and become a better person! In someone who could make his mother proud instead of making her cry because she didn't know if he was coming home or not!"

There was a silence when you finished saying that, until you saw him smirk, that reaction you didn't like at all.

Jimmy: "You're right, Curly loves to please, you should know that very well."

"Ugh, for the love of God, I don't know why I try to reason with you, it's impossible."

Jimmy: "But you were the only one who refused to give in to make me happy."

You opened your eyes wide upon hearing that, turning again to the man who still wore that smug smile.

Jimmy: "Just as beautiful and messed up as I am, I thought you would understand me, but then you became a good girl, yet I still hoped you would look at me..."

"Shut up-"

Jimmy: "Oh, and the damn way Curly talked about you, how incredible you are, so kind, hardworking, so beautiful."

"I tell you to shut up-"

Jimmy: "Those lovely moles in the center of your chest that look like a constellation"

"He wouldn't talk about those things with you!"

Jimmy: "I saw it myself"

You felt like you were going to puke at that moment, you didn't want to believe that he had really done something like that to you while you were unconscious, you didn't want your suspicions to be confirmed, you refused to believe it.

"Liar. Anya wouldn't leave me alone, she would lock the nursery door-" 

Jimmy: "Yes, yes, she did that, it was a pain in the ass. Every night when she went to sleep, she locked the nursery with that code that only Curly and she knew... But that place wasn't closed while someone was inside."

"She wouldn't let you get close to me!"

Jimmy: "They were so sweet, Anya staying by your side saying she had to make sure all your signs were okay, and when she left, she would ask Swansea if he could keep an eye on you. But he was so depressed that he didn't dare to stay with you for long, so... I took his place to make sure you were okay."

"In front of Curly..."

You murmured at having to imagine the scene your husband had to witness without being able to do anything about it other than watch.

Jimmy: "That was the funniest thing"

You hugged tightly, feeling a horrible tingling all over your body, as if you were dirty.

Jimmy: "Swansea had no idea about anything, Anya didn't want to talk about it with anyone else. Thanks to her silence, I was able to finally look at that body that you always hide from me, thanks to Swansea's stupidity and feeling sad for his little captain, feeling all guilty and shit."

Swansea: "What did he just say..." 

You turned to see Swansea at the end of the hallway, carrying Jimmy's rations, holding an axe firmly in the other hand; he had managed to hear everything.

"Swansea-"

Swansea: "Open the door, captain"

"Listen - it's not worth it, do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they find out you hurt someone from the crew? Please, I don't want them to lock you up." 

You said immediately, positioning yourself in front of him, trying to get him to see you, but his eyes were glued to the door where he could see Jimmy's face.

Swansea: "How are they going to know? Let's say it was an accident. Open the door!"

You wanted to keep reasoning with him, but you couldn't deny that you also wished he would face consequences for his actions.

You took the axe from his hands, making him look at you annoyed.

"I won't take the risk of you killing him."

Those were your last words before opening the door, Swansea didn't take much more than a few seconds to fully open the door, step inside, and throw himself at Jimmy.

You could hear the sound of the blows, the insults, and the screams.

You stood at the door wide open, axe in hand, watching as the blood spread across the floor with each blow Swansea dealt.

You watched Jimmy and tilted your head, waiting for him to defend himself.

You wouldn't hesitate to cut off his hands if he touched Swansea.

[cxffecoupx]

warnings: suggestive content | wc: 539

a/n: first time writing a mature content like this. please do let me know what you think and of any improvements needed. i've only read smut, not written it😭

you sit in front of your dressing table, all the while being acutely aware of mingyu's gaze on your back. you could see his bedroom eyes through the mirror, but you were intent on going out with your friends today.

"you should stop staring at my ass, mingyu. you're drooling," you walk towards the bed where he's sitting at the edge, manspreading.

whatever he planned with this, it might just be working.

mingyu sits up straight and holds your waist, looking deep into your eyes. the lust in his eyes was evident with the way they darkened when you returned from the bathroom wearing this dress, one that ended right below your ass and hugs your skin so well. all thanks to the workout sessions with mingyu.

his hands slide lower to cup your butt and he pulls you in to straddle his hip. the bulge, that you hadn't noticed before, presses deliciously into your cunt and you have to mentally keep yourself from grinding on him.

"how come you never wear these dresses with me?" he pouts as he rests his face on your breasts. but he also takes this opportunity to slowly knead your ass and you have to bite back the moans that threatens to leave your mouth.

"you and i both know how that's gonna en-" he cuts you off by capturing your lips with his, and the gentle, light kiss quickly turns into a rough and passionate one. you grind harder against his hips, needing to feel some pressure against your pussy that's now wet and dripping.

good thing you decided to wear panties.

he turns his attention to your neck as he pushes your dress up your hips, making quick work of unzipping and throwing the dress to some corner of the room where you're sure it's gonna stay forgotten until the next morning.

"gyu, i told you I needed to go today. i can't keep cancelling on them."

your words fall onto deaf ears as he slaps your ass. your back arches with the sensation and your moans sound like symphony to mingyu. he slaps hard once again and you grind harder against his bulge.

he falls back, and pulls you along to make you sit on his face. you feel his smirk on your ass but further thought leaves you as he starts licking and lapping at your cunt like a starved man having his last meal. his hands continue their work on your butt, leaving only to pinch your nipples or press into your clit. your moans get louder and louder, increasing with the building pleasure in your insides until you burst, coming all over his face. even through the tears clouding your vision, you see him take in every drop, smiling like a kid who got candies.

he changes position, trapping you under him and quickly removes his clothes. before you can understand anything, he flips you over, pushing your back and lifting your ass into the air. before he can do anything though, you tell him you got one last thing to do. you sit up straight and grab your phone, opening contacts to find a number.

"....hey, um, Lana? yeah, i don't think i can come today..."

[scremogirl]

✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵✥☆ミ★ ???

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞

Yandere Student Council Pres x Nonchalant reader

I’m not sure if I should retitle this to Yandere! Childhood friend x reader or not. There’s not a lot of the fact he’s the SCP shown in the story. I felt like I went a little off track. I got so consumed in writing😭. I already have a post like that on my page so I didn’t want to make it confusing. I don’t know if I should’ve said unemotional reader either. Idk let me know what you think. Have fun reading!

He was at the top of the food chain. Good grades, teachers liked him, students feared him, rich, good looking, and most importantly; the student council president. With that being said, why wouldn’t he leave you alone?

Takenya was a stuck up priss in your opinion. Always lecturing you about things you could do in order of improvement. You weren’t popular but you weren’t one of those weird Naruto kids that sat in the back of the class and ate crayons either. You just existed. Someone so average at everything somehow attracted the most “perfect” guy in school. Your grades were fine; a straight A-B student with the occasional C here and there. Your attendance on the other hand… well maybe he’s not so wrong about that, but who actually wants to be at school anyways?

“I don’t understand why you don’t try harder? You could easily surpass most of our class,”

“You need to come to school. This behavior would never pass in the real world. What would your employer think of you just not showing up?”

“Chocolate for lunch…really? If you want to stay healthy you’ll need to-“

Why does he care so much anyways? Sure, you used to be friends in like what, fifth grade? You used to get bullied in school for being different. You just didn’t like the things that kids your age were supposed to like. But… it never bothered you. You weren’t emotionless per se, it’s just, why care what others have to think?

Mellisa Grey. The girliest of all girls. She used to have it out for you when you were younger. Calling you names and bumping your shoulder whenever you walked by. You put up with it until the end of the year; fifth grade graduation. That evening she and her crew thought it’d be funny to pour milk on the shy little nerdy boy in your class. Some spilled on your dress, that you didn’t mind, but the tears of the boy next to you made you. Something inside of you just snapped. You shot up from your seat grabbing a first full of her hair and slammed her head onto the wooden table. Not stopping until you saw the wire of her pink, sparkly braces fly out her mouth. Well, that was what you wanted to do; the teachers came too early for you to inflict any further damage. The most you got was a broken nose and a lawsuit. She transferred schools after that, and you got the whoopin of a lifetime. You didn’t care. You didn’t feel bad at all. If anything you felt elated seeing her in pain and the rage on her parents faces as the cussed child you out. You didn’t cry or yell when your parents picked you up. You weren’t phased by the belt or the palm of your mothers hand striking you. You didn’t feel anything. So why were you so upset on someone else's behalf anyways?

You knew this kid. I mean, how couldn’t you when he would follow you around 24/7.

“H-Hi… my names Takenya” you just blankly stared. His sheepish gaze barely meets yours from behind his big fat glasses.

“…Do I know you?”

“Well…no. But I know you!”

“Good for you I guess.” You continued to go back and forth on the swing, not acknowledging the boy's existence at all. The swing he sat on remained stationary, never once dropping his gaze from you.

“Uhm… I just wanted to thank you for yesterday,” Hm? What was he talking about? He saw the confusion in your face when you turned around to ask and beat you to the point.

“You probably don’t know me. We’re not in the same class,” Right. So why is he talking to you? Again, before you could ask he cut you off.

“The other day when recess started you helped me pick up all of my stuff after Carter pushed me down; remember? I-I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me” Ohhh, you do remember him now. He was that shy little rich kid that transferred here at the end of fourth grade. He didn’t have many friends, let alone any at all. Everyone had grown up with each other and formed friend groups at this poin. He was a little late to the party so he didn’t fit in. He wasn’t worried about the next episode of Ninjago and didn’t find humor in looking up the words penis and vagina in the dictionary at the school library when the teacher wasn’t looking. His hair long, tied back into a neat ponytail and not buzzed into a Mohawk like half the boys in your grade. He had glasses that almost covered the entirety of his upper face. He always ate his pb&js on whole wheat instead of white and preferred celery sticks over fruit snacks. So, just like you, he got bullied just because he was different.

“Oh yea. I remember you now. You’re welcome by the way,” he grinned. The first time you saw him smile ever since he came to your school.

That marked the day of a long friendship.

That was until you went to middle school. You think puberty had something to do with it. He grew into his face more and sized down those jellyfishing glasses. His scrawny figure gained slightly more bulk and dressed in a more modern fashion. His hair remained the same; a bit shorter than before but still longer than most guys. You’ve always liked his hair. He would let you braid it sometimes when he was too distracted playing on his DS. He didn’t get acne like many of the other kids your grade either, skin smooth and clear. All the girls found him to die for. Your nonchalant behavior rubbed off on him and he became more confident in himself. Not letting his elementary school self be reflected into now. He became a bit too obsessed with his studies for a middle schooler; pushing all his ways on you. He would always follow you around blabbing about not attending gym class. He even started hanging around the same snotty rich kids he would complain to you about. You became annoyed. So you cut him off. Just like that. Stopped talking to him, answering his texts, not sitting with him at lunch or in class. Even after all the rejection at his advances, he came running back to you. Not willing to let you go so easily.

The school bell rings signaling the end of 4th pd and beginning of lunch. You were planning to go off campus today and not come back. Keys in hand you make your way to the student parking lot. However, someone’s blocking the exit. He’s gotten taller, about 6’2-6’3; sleeper build accommodating his height. Glasses thinner and sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Hair as long as ever, tyed back with that same white ribbon you gave him years ago; revealing an undercut. He fixes the collar of his button up and readjusts his tie and vest.

“And exactly…just where do you think your going?”

“To lunch,”

“The cafeteria is that way,” he points with a slender finger, decorated by a diamond ring. It shimers under the lights above reflecting against his matching earrings.

“Off campus,” he raises his eyebrow, folding his arms.

“Knowing you, you won’t come back. You do realize your request for a half day schedule is still pending right? You also recognize that I’m the one who assists the principal in granting them as well?” You don’t answer him, already knowing we're going with this.

“As I said before, your attendance needs improving before I-… we can grant it,” what a pain in the ass this guy is. You try to walk past him but he stops you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t eat school lunch. I’ll be back after,” he gives you an unamused look. Hand gripping your shoulder a little tighter as you try to take another step.

“You know I can’t let you do that. Not unless you don’t want a new schedule,” he pauses.

“Not unless I come with you,” you look up.

“You’re paying?” His eyes widened slightly, shocked at your willingness. But he can’t be too surprised, he knows you don’t care about anything unless you get what you want.

“Of course I am. You need to spend your money on other priorities; like a new math textbook,” you ignore the subtle jab and walk to his car. No need to ask where as he parks next to you everyday to make sure he knows you’ve actually show up. Definitely not because your the first thing he wants to see in the morning.

“I don’t understand why you come to McDonald’s of all places,” he lets out a sigh, handing his card to the drive through worker. He drives up to the next window waiting for the food.

“It’s not healthy. You seriously should consider my offer in taking you to that new place down the street,”. He looks over when he doesn’t get a response; noticing the music blasting from your headphones as you look at the door. He sighs again before taking the food from the workers hand and grabbing your headphones. You turn your head to look at him but your gaze shifts to the bag in his hand. You reach over and grab a fry out of the bag and he s his eyes. Pulling into the parking lot, he silently watches you eat. This brings him so much nostalgia. He misses eating lunch with you everyday. Ranting while you just sit there and chew. He misses having someone listening to him about something that’s not related to school. After you stopped *attempted* talking to him in the beginning of 7th grade, his heart felt like it got ripped out of his chest.

He’s never felt anything his whole life. His father would tell him that one day he’ll find someone who makes him feel everything, makes life worth it. He’d seen the love shared between his parents everyday. He always wanted that. In the fourth grade all of that came true. He saw you getting off the bus making your way to school. He saw the way you helped up Michael Lemitzki, a dorky little boy, after Conner pushed him down. Shaggy hair, braces lining his teeth, comic books all on the floor. How pathetic. You weren’t scared of Conner at all. He was bigger than you and more popular than you, but you didn’t care. You kept a straight face as he threatened you and held your composure. No emotion showing whatsoever.

He thought you were beautiful. It was love at first sight. He was too busy staring at you to hear his father calling out to him. He followed his son's gaze to you. He looked back down at the small boy and gave a knowing smile. Takenya just stared at the other boy hugging you with tears down his face. Why is he touching you like that? Push him away already! That day he purposely made himself a target to the bullying of Melissa and Conner. Hoping that one day, you’ll save him the same way you did Jacob. He got bigger glasses, grew his hair out, and started dressing like the typical “nerd”. He would leave candies in your cubby, prized limited edition Pokémon cards in your backpack, brand new color pencils and markers showed up around you. He started to lose hope though. Why haven’t you noticed him yet!? Sure he’s never actually talked to you.. but still! Could you not see his effort?! Did you not care? He sat alone at recess that fateful day. He was randomly pushed down, papers and crayons flying out his small hands. He wasn’t in the mood for Connors teasing today. To caught up on the fact that the love of his life may never see him they way he’s dreamed of. Oh the dramatic mind of a fifth grader. He clutched the safety scissors that flew out of his pencil pouch watching the dick of an elementary schooler turn around. He was about to get up but stopped as he saw someone bend down beside him. It was you! You helped gather all his things and placed them into his arms. His heart pounded in his chest and the blush on his face spread like wildfire. Before he could say anything you walked away. Taking your place on the swing set. He hurriedly put all his things away before trying to build up the courage to come talk to you. He took to long, however, as the teacher soon yelled for everyone to make their way into the line back to their respective class.

As he reminisces on the past, an alarm rings. Telling him that it’s time to make his way back to school. You’ve already finished all your food and somehow managed to take your headphones back.

“What?” You say snapping him out of his trance. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

“Nothing,”

You make your way back to the school and go your separate ways. He walks you to class ensuring that you get there. Out the corner of his eye he sees someone wave to you. Lemitzki. His hairs more well kept, ditched the glasses for contacts showing of his green eyes. He’s taller and has more muscles now. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the jagged line that makes it’s way across his right cheek, interfering with his dimple as he smiles. It’s been awhile, the scar healed well. The once clutzy boy looks at the door and freezes, hand dropping and going pale. There’s a silent stare off between the two before the late bell rings. Takenya makes his way to class, a slight smile on his face at a sudden memory.

Watching him walk away, a fist tightens. Little does he know someone was planning on getting their revenge.

Hi loves! I hope you guys enjoyed. Take is an OC of mine I’ve had for a while just never had a name for him until now. Like his concept was in my head foreverrrr. He might be a reoccurring character. I really like him. But I did put one shot so I’m not sure. Lemme know what y’all want. Check out this post below for a little more context. Hope you enjoyed.

-Love, Sos❤️

[harunayuuka2060]

Sebek: *has approached Yuurin right after the class finished*

Sebek: Human! There is something I need to tell you!

Yuurin: What is it?

Sebek: *smirks* Show gratitude, human. Waka-sama has extended an invitation for you to visit Diasomnia. *hands her the invitation*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *opens it and reads the invite*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *pulls out her pen and starts writing on a piece of paper* *folds it together with the invitation then hands it back to him*

Sebek: ...

Sebek: What was that?

Yuurin: Please give my reply to your housewarden. *bows her head then leaves*

Sebek: H-Hey! Human! Are you going or not?!

Malleus: *chuckles*

Lilia: *chuckles too after seeing her reply*

Malleus: I completely understand.

Sebek: What is it, Waka-sama? Did he accept your invitation?

Malleus: No. However, he suggested to meet some other time.

Sebek: How dare he- HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO DECLINE SUCH OPPORTUNITY TO MEET YOU!

Lilia: I don't quite agree on that, Sebek. According to his reply, he was thankful to receive an invitation from Malleus, but his club activities wouldn't allow him to have such free time.

Malleus: Yes. I honestly think this is a nice gesture.

Sebek: I-In that case... Is there anything you want from me, My liege?

Malleus: There is. *smiles*

Sebek: *spying on Yuurin*

Yuurin: ...

Ace, Deuce, and Jack: ...

Ace: Do you think he needs something?

Deuce: He's been staring at you a lot, Yuurin.

Ace: Yeah. He's not even hiding it.

Jack: Should I confront him?

Yuurin: No, it's fine. He must have reasons.

Ace: Dude, he reminds me of Vil-senpai when he's trying to recruit you to Film Studies Club.

Deuce: You're so popular, Yuurin.

Ace: Well, it's not surprising because you're handsome. I mean, I have a crush on you.

Yuurin: ...

Jack: ...

Jack: You little-

Ace: Let me express my feelings, Jack! I don't get to do this often when Leona-senpai is around!

Sebek: I see. So he has quite a busy schedule.

Sebek: Not bad for a human.

Sebek: Human! Can I ask you to visit Diasomnia this weekend?

Yuurin: Why?

Sebek: You promised Waka-sama!

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I didn't promise him anything specific. But I wouldn't mind, I guess.

Sebek: R-Really?

Yuurin: Yes. Can you stop following me around now?

Yuurin: The Savanaclaw members are not happy about it.

Sebek: Y-Yes. However, you should do as promised!

*At Diasomnia*

Sebek: WAKA-SAMA! THE HUMAN HAS PROMISED TO COME THIS WEEKEND!

Malleus: Oh? *chuckles* Great job, Sebek.

Lilia: Fufu~ Does that mean you two are friends now?

Sebek: Huh?

Malleus: Seeing that he agreed, he must have considered you as his friend now.

Sebek: I-I don't think that's the case, Waka-sama.

Sebek: Though if I were to be honest, he did earn my respect a little.

Lilia: Aww~ See, Sebek? Being friends with him isn't that bad.

*At Savanaclaw*

Leona: Why?

Yuurin: *has told him that she will visit Diasomnia on weekends*

Yuurin: I promised.

Leona: Can't you just break it?

Yuurin: I never break promises.

Leona: Tch. You're too nice.

Leona: ...

Leona: You can go if you can show me improvement on your voice.

Yuurin: ......

Yuurin: I'm not satisfied with the result.

Leona: Come on now. You need to practice switching voices. That's what your brother asked from you, didn't he?

Yuurin: *nods* '

Leona: Then let's hear it.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *clears throat* *breathes in*

Yuurin: Leona-senpai. *her voice sounds soft and whispery*

Leona: ...

Leona: *takes a deep breath in* It's not bad.

Yuurin: *backs to her masculine voice* Really?

Leona: *holding back his laughter* Yes.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: You are lying, Leona-senpai.

Leona: No! Why would I lie? *with a laughter in his voice*

[togrowoldinv]

The Teacher

Milf!WandaNat x Female Reader

When Wanda’s boys need tutoring, you offer to help with the small stipulation that you do at her house. While at the home, you meet Natasha. What happens one day when Wanda forgets to cancel tutoring and you happen upon her and Nat in a compromising situation?

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (R, W, N receiving), strap on sex, dominant Natasha

Note: I could not stop thinking about these two. Enjoy!

WandaNat Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You’re anxiously waiting in your classroom for the mother of two students to arrive for a conference. You hated to call her, knowing that she is very busy, but her sons have been falling behind in class. And you never want that to be prolonged by your own nerves.

So, you wait for Wanda Maximoff to arrive for your scheduled after-school meeting. The door opens with five minutes to spare. In walks in a woman with an air of confidence you haven’t quite seen before. Her blonde hair rests over the lapels of a red suit. She looks like a million bucks in every sense of the phrase.

“Hello, I’m Ms. Y/l/n, you must be Ms. Maximoff,” you greet her.

“That’s me,” she says. “Please call me Wanda.”

“Nice to meet you, Wanda,” you say. “Thank you for taking time out of your day to meet with me.”

You gesture for her to sit in the chair across from your desk. She does so and looks back to you with waiting eyes.

“I am concerned about Billy and Tommy falling behind in class,” you explain. “They’ve taken a dive the last few weeks in grades and participation.”

“Well, Billy has always been shy,” Wanda supplies. “And Tommy just can’t sit still.”

“Yes, that’s true. But they’ve been my best students all year until recently. I just wanted to be in touch with you to maybe find the cause and take steps to correct this misdirection,” you say.

You hate this part of your job. Every parent thinks their child hangs the moon. They don’t want to hear they’re struggling. You prepare yourself to face rejection, but Wanda just thinks for a moment.

“How can I get them back on track?” She asks.

“I can tutor them before and/or after school,” you say. “If their in-class participation improves that will also help with their grades.”

“Okay,” Wanda says. Her green eyes look you over. “I have a hard time getting them to school early because they ride a bus. And getting here right after school is very difficult.”

“Right,” you say. “I understand.”

“Maybe you could tutor them at my house?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, I’m not sure if that’s really allowed,” you say.

“Please?” Wanda asks. You don’t think you have the strength to say no to her soft expression. She is almost pouting. You feel an attraction to her in your gut. She leans forward. “I will pay you anything.”

“Oh, I definitely can’t take payment, Wanda,” you say. She pouts completely now. “But I can tutor them at your house.”

“Thank you!” Wanda practically cheers. “I appreciate it. Really.”

“Of course, Wanda. I can start as soon as possible.”

With that, Wanda leaves your classroom with the exchange of phone numbers and the shake of your hand. It’s probably a bad idea, but you keep the success of your students in mind as you push away any worries about the tutoring.

The next day you drive to Wanda’s house after school. The boys let you in on instruction from their mother to only let you inside and not strangers. You set up at the table and teach the boys some math. To your surprise, they don’t put up much of a fight about the work.

When you’re almost done for the day, the door of the house opens. The boys run to the door to hug the mysterious woman who enters. She wears a leather jacket and black pants. God, she is attractive. Her red hair is tied back in a braid.

“Oh, hello,” she says once she sees you. “You must be the teacher Wanda was telling me about. I’m Natasha.”

“Hi, yes, I’m y/n,” you say as you shake her hand. Her green eyes sparkle like Wandas.

“Nice to meet you,” Natasha says. You think you see her look you over briefly before the kids grab her attention again.

“We’re done for the day, so I’ll head out,” you say, gathering your things.

“Okay. Thanks for helping them. I hope to see you again soon, y/n,” Natasha says.

She disappears into the kitchen, and you wonder about the nature of her relationship with Wanda.

The next few weeks of tutoring go smoothly. You see Natasha a couple of times. She doesn’t say much but she always thanks you for your time.

Today, when you knock on the door and wait for an answer there is a long delay. The boys usually open the door immediately. Five minutes go by, and you decide to knock a couple of more times.

Finally, Wanda comes to the door. She is never here when it’s time for tutoring. And especially not in a robe with messy hair.

“Oh shit,” Wanda remarks at the sight of you. “I forgot to cancel today. The boys are visiting family.”

“That’s alright,” you say. “I’ll just be on my way.”

At the time you go to turn around, Natasha emerges from the other room. She has only a t-shirt and underwear on. You try to look away.

“Who is it, detka?” Nat asks.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” Wanda says. She doesn’t look away from you. “I forgot to cancel tutoring.”

“Oh,” Natasha says. “Don’t be rude, Wanda.” She walks to the door and looks at you. “Come on in, y/n.”

You don’t even argue with that despite the very little clothes either of them are wearing. You enter and Nat pours you a drink.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” you say when she hands it to you.

“No worries,” Nat supplies. “Just an afternoon meeting. Right Wands?”

“Right,” Wanda agrees. She seems a little uneasy, but when Nat places a hand on her thigh, you see her nerves calm. “A meeting.”

It’s quiet for a few moments. You try hard not to notice how far up Natasha’s hand has moved or the way Wanda’s thighs look so delicious. Natasha’s too. Nat catches you looking.

“You know we could use help with our meeting,” Natasha says.

“Nat,” Wanda warns.

“Look, sweetheart, she is looking at us,” Natasha says. “I think she wants to join.”

Wanda looks directly into your eyes. Her gaze is hypnotizing. Natasha’s hand dips completely between her thighs. Wanda moans quietly.

“Do you want to join?” Wanda asks. It’s the first time you’ve noticed she has a bit of an accent.

“I- um- yes?” You phrase it like a question.

“I need you to be sure,” Wanda says.

She reaches her hand out towards you. You get the memo. You cross the room and Wanda takes your hand. She pulls you onto her lap. Nat’s hand remains between her thighs and as a result brushes against you too.

Wanda brushes your hair off of your face. She keeps her hand on your face. The long digits hold your face tight. She leans in and kisses your lips softly. The feeling makes your head dizzy.

“So good,” Wanda whispers when she pulls away. “Natasha, you need to taste her.”

Natasha pulls you by the back of your neck over to meet her lips. She moans into the kiss as she deepens it. Her tongue invades your mouth. The kiss is rough, but you want so much more. Your hips stutter over Wanda’s lap.

“Hm, needy girl,” Natasha says once she pulls away. She lifts your shirt over your head and Wanda immediately starts sucking at your breasts.

You kiss Nat as Wanda stimulates your nipples. She leaves no inch of your chest untouched. She unbuttons your pants and you stand up to let her pull them down your legs. Wanda instructs you to stay standing. Nat stands up behind you and kneels while Wanda kneels in front of you.

“Your pussy is so wet,” Wanda says. “Hm, I just want to taste it.”

“Taste it, Wanda. Make her feel good,” Natasha says. “And I’ll do the same.”

The two women dive into you. Natasha’s hands help spread you as Wanda eats you out. Natasha joins her and you feel both of their mouths hard at work. You would fall over if it wasn’t for Natasha’s strong arms holding you up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you mumble way too quickly. But they don’t care. They keep up their ministrations until you’re shaking with pleasure.

“So fucking good,” Natasha says.

“Mhm,” Wanda agrees.

The two women pull away from you and share a filthy kiss. In the process, Wanda sits back on the couch and takes her robe off. Her entire body is exposed to you. You’re sure your mouth is watering.

Natasha pushes you gently to kneel between Wanda’s legs. You waste no time kissing her soft thighs. Exactly as delicious as you thought she would be.

“Such a good girl,” Natasha says. She takes her own underwear off and reveals she’s wearing a strap. You’re not sure how you hadn’t seen it before.

Nat gets it wet before she gets on her knees. She angles the fake cock perfectly to enter you from behind. You’re already wet, so it goes in easy. Nat moves her hips at an excruciating pace as Wanda pushes on your head to keep you between her legs.

You lick stripes over her folds and take her clit in your mouth. Wanda watches as Natasha pounds into you.

“Fuck that’s so hot,” she says.

“She takes me so well, Wanda,” Natasha says.

The words drive you crazy. You pick up your pace on Wanda and she comes in no time. You clean her up as Natasha brings you to another orgasm.

You and Wanda turn your focus to Natasha. You take the cock in your mouth and Wanda’s juices coat it. Natasha groans at the feeling. Wanda maneuvers herself to lick Natasha’s pussy that’s not covered by the strap.

The two of you get Natasha off quickly. And you all rest on the couch. Natasha and Wanda hold you between them as your limbs tangle together.

“I’m really glad I forgot to cancel tutoring today,” Wanda says.

“Me too,” Natasha adds.

“Me three,” you say and share a laugh with the women.

You hope Wanda invites you over more often now. Especially if Natasha is going to be there.

[lostiolite]

hii can you write something about monoma having a crush on a 1-A reader who has a personality like him but a little more nicer? have a great dayy

Everyone is better than me

Monoma x reader oneshot 0.6k words

You’ve always felt like a side character, worthless, expendable. it's something that kind of haunts you. You were surprised when you got into U.A. 

But, oh, your classmates. they were the best people on earth (except Mineta). Midorya went through so much to improve. Bakugo, despite being an asshole was talented, he had every right to brag with a quirk like that. Ururaka’s bubbly persona never failed to lift people’s spirits. Mina and Kirishima were the best people to give you motivation. Momo always tried to get you to understand your worth but you didn’t seem to budge.

You were kind of overwhelmed to be surrounded by such awesome people. They were practically shining stars, so much so that it blinded you. You wish to shine as bright as they do but you know you never will. Despite feeling inferior to them,  you couldn’t be more thankful to them.

Your class was your lifeline and you always praised them. Your classmates have been targeted and come out triumphant every time. Why wouldn’t you be proud? You would praise your classmates, obviously not in an obnoxious way like a certain someone, who always seemed to try and 1-up you when you talked about them.

You were always talking about them– not yourself, which caught the attention of Kendo, who recently worked with Momo. 

You were eating lunch with Mina in the cafeteria. You two were brainstorming on a class project and decided to sit away from the rest of your friends because you would get distracted. 

Unfortunately, Mina had to use the bathroom, leaving you alone. This is when Kendo came up to you, asking you about school. 

You started talking about what the rest of your class was doing in detail, making sure to praise them. Monoma who was in the area noticed, he tried to one-up you like always before Kendo karate chopped him. Kendo then cocked her head, returning her attention to you.

“And, what about you?” 

You were stumped. You just assured her that there was nothing interesting going on with you. She stopped you, asking why you didn't wanna talk about yourself. You were kind of stunned at her bluntness, she went straight to the point. You sighed,

“Because I'm not as amazing as them, and I probably never will be. But, I don't think that matters, because being able to support them is enough for me.” 

She gave you a somber smile. she didn’t really know what to say, which was new. She usually knew how to cheer people up. She’d have to get back to you later, her focus was now on Monoma, whom she half expected to start dogging on you. He didn’t say anything though. 

She waved you bye and retreated back to her table.

That's when everything kind of clicked for Monoma. 

He was usually intellectual and able to grasp others' emotions and feelings, but when it came to class 1-A and by association, you, he went on autopilot. His main objective was to dogshit on 1-A to bring light to 1-B accomplishments and that they were just as great as 1-A. 

Ever since then, he’s seen you in a different light, maybe even developed a fat fucking crush.

Mentioned before, but he goes on auto pilot when around class 1-A, so he doesn’t realize when he says things like–

“Maybe take a note out of [name]’s book and be more humble, because you look like a fool” he’d say taunting Bakugo.

One time bakugo called you an extra when you offered him help in a subject he was struggling in (which is rare for bakugo), and suddenly Monoma appeared behind him.

“Maybe that’s why you bombed the test, you think you're better than everyone huh— your fragile ego can't take a hit so you have to take it out on [Name]! Be grateful someone like them is even offering help to such a lowlife braindead creature such as yourself!”

That's when Deku caught on.

Monoma not-so subtly praising you is something most of 1-A doesn’t really take note of, but Kendo and Deku are absolutely appalled.

[angelsbless]

Rayne Ames x reader headcanons | part I

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊

Since you and rayne met when you were 12 and you smiled softly at him, he promised himself that he'll protect you at all it costs.

You were his star in all the darkness he lived in.

Even if he tries so hard to play it cool you can always see right through him so this made him only more attached to you.

You knew when he needed hugs, when he needed support and rest, because this man exhausts himself and works like crazy, so whenever he comes back from a mission you're in his dorm waiting for him with a fresh baked cake and open arms for him to hug.

You're the only one allowed to touch him besides fin, your touch is soothing and makes him emotional so he tends to tell you everything and always fails to hide anything from you.

He always drops by jewelry stores looking for a necklace that would suit you and when he does find one, he gifts it to you (you never took it off)

You guys always have deep talks about life.

Rayne developed a habit of reading ancient magic books with you so you can improve and be better.

When he was first announced to be a divine visionary, he was so worried inside that he wouldn't be able to protect everyone and take this responsibility, so you gave him a kiss on the forehead and reminded him that he's always gonna be the best in your eyes and how amazing he is.

This boy OH this boy, he kisses your hand and thank you for every moment you spend with him.

Sometimes when he's being so honest he starts crying and telling you about his worries that something may happen to you and fin.

Always feels terrible for not treating his brother right and asks you to look after him and worried that he may hate him.

You reassure him about how fin loves him so much and understands their situation.

Tends to have nightmares about you or fin getting hurt and wakes up so scared that he has to find you right away and hug you.

This boy, he is just so soft inside and you have to take care of him.

PLEASE DO 🫶🏻

[tinytinyblogs]

Okay hear me out can I request yandere skz whose darling hates/refuses to even look at them and says mean things to the boys in order to get them to leave her alone but it has the opposite effect

Are you defying me, darling?

The more you distance yourself, the closer they might become. Take it slow if you're unsure.

⚠️ yandere theme, unhealthy obsession, and a lot more⚠️

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬 Thanks for your patience! Things have been a bit hectic lately, and I apologize for the delay. Here's the reaction post you requested, as promised. Let me know if you have any feedback or if there's anything I can improve on.

stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan, your sunshine, your anchor – the very picture of gentleness. He opens doors with a smile, treats you like royalty, and knows exactly how to make you laugh. Yet, a knot of apprehension coils in your stomach because for all his sweetness, there's a line you never want him to cross. The air hangs heavy. You haven't spoken in what feels like hours, the silence a suffocating blanket. It started with a simple plea, a desperate need for some space, some time to breathe without the constant hum of his presence. The words tumbled out, harsh and ragged. "Can you just leave me alone, damn it?" The change in Chan is instantaneous. His smile vanishes, replaced by a coldness that sends shivers down your spine. A heavy silence descends, thick and suffocating. You steal a glance at him, and your heart plummets. His eyes, usually sparkling with warmth, are now narrowed lasers, fixated on you. The air crackles with a tension you've never witnessed before. Then, a deceptively calm voice breaks the silence. "What did you just say, sweetheart?" he asks, the endearment sounding foreign in this new context. It's clear he doesn't like what he heard, and a flicker of fear ignites in your chest.

You shrink back, your voice barely a whisper as you repeat, "I... I just want to be alone, Chan." But the damage is done. With a slow, deliberate movement, Chan closes the distance. He towers over you, his form an imposing shadow. He crouches down, invading your personal space, and gently, but firmly, cups your chin with his hand. You wince as his nails dig slightly into your skin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Sweetheart," he says, his voice a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. It's calm, almost too calm, and that terrifies you more than any outburst. His eyes hold you captive, a storm brewing beneath the surface. "I may love you," he continues, his words laced with a dangerous undercurrent, "but disrespect won't be tolerated. Remember that." Seeing the tear, a flicker of something crossed Chan's face – maybe regret, maybe anger. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a chilling coldness. "Tears won't work this time," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He reached out, a single finger brushing against your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You will explain yourself," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "And you will understand exactly why you don't get to ask for space from me."

Minho

Minho wasn't like other guys. He didn't crave grand gestures or whispered sweet nothings. No, Minho thrived on the spark in your eyes when he sent shivers down your spine with a surprise tickle or a whispered threat that danced on the edge of plausibility. The way you flustered, the stammer that replaced your usual sharp retorts when he'd corner you with a teasing question – that was his fuel. So, when you finally snapped, a glorious eruption after weeks of his calculated torment, a thrill snaked through him, cold and exhilarating. "Get away from me, don't touch me, you jerk!" you shouted, cheeks flushed a furious red. He'd expected the usual splutter of insults, a well-placed punch maybe, but this raw defiance, this unfamiliar vulnerability – it was intoxicating. Minho's smirk wasn't playful this time. It was a slow, deliberate twist of his lips, a predator recognizing a challenge in its prey. You wanted him gone? Perfect. He'd become your shadow, a constant reminder of the delicious chaos he reveled in unleashing. The way your breath hitched when he brushed past a little too close, the flinch you couldn't quite suppress when he materialized at your locker – oh, he'd savor every startled reaction, every muttered curse under your breath.

Perhaps you didn't understand him, and maybe that was part of the allure. Minho was an enigma, a puzzle only he held the key to. But that didn't matter. He thrived on the chase, on the unpredictable rhythm your dynamic had taken. Your pain, a byproduct of his gamesmanship, was a mere footnote – the price you paid for defying him. "Feeling spicy today, aren't we?" he drawled, his voice low and gravelly. He stopped directly in front of you, his face mere inches away. "Seems like somebody needs a reminder of who's in charge," he continued, his smirk widening. A single finger brushed against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted to fight back, to spit out a retort, but the words wouldn't come. The fear was a thick fog clouding your thoughts. Minho seemed to revel in your silence. He chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper but filled with chilling promise. "We have plenty of time for you to learn your lesson." The enclosed space became a prison, the air thick with unspoken threats and simmering tension. You knew this wasn't a game anymore. This was Minho asserting his dominance, and you were the unwilling participant in his twisted play.

Changbin

You clench your fists, heart hammering against your ribs. "Damn you," you growl, the words tasting metallic on your tongue, "don't come any closer, jerk!" Changbin's laugh echoes in the confined space. It's a sound you've never heard before, devoid of its usual teasing lilt and replaced with something darker, hungrier. This new side of him sends a shiver down your spine, both terrifying and...exciting? The thought is fleeting, pushed aside by the urgency of the situation. He ignores your protest, a predatory glint in his eyes. Each step he takes is a deliberate invasion of your personal space, until your back is pressed flush against the wall, trapped. His hands snake around you, pinning you against the cool surface. It feels like the room has shrunk, the air itself thick with unspoken tension. "So what, huh?" he taunts, leaning in so close his warm breath tickles your ear. "I can do whatever I want." His voice is a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. It's as if this sudden resistance has ignited a fire within him, a twisted competition to break you, to own you completely. You can almost see the gears turning in his head, a game suddenly unfolding before you. One he intends to win.

Shame burned through you, hot and acrid. You hated yourself for the traitorous flicker of excitement that had dared to ignite within you. Changbin's dark eyes, usually lit with playful mischief, were now narrowed with predatory intent. The possessiveness that radiated from him was suffocating. "This isn't a game, Changbin," you spat, your voice shaking but defiant. You met his gaze head-on, refusing to show fear. "Don't you dare turn this into some twisted dominance act." A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a slow, dangerous smile. "Dominance act?" he echoed, his voice low and silken. His thumbs brushed across your wrists, sending a jolt through you. "Perhaps," he continued, leaning in further, his breath hot against your cheek. "Or maybe it's just a reminder of who calls the shots here, sweetheart." His smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something you couldn't decipher passing through his eyes. Then, with a sigh that seemed to shake the very room, he released you. You stumbled back a step, breathing heavily, the air suddenly feeling thin. "Maybe you're right," he conceded, his voice back to its usual drawl, though a hint of darkness lingered. "Maybe we need a different kind of reminder." He took a step back, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that sent chills down your spine. "A reminder of the consequences of defying me."

Hyunjin

Your outburst, a tirade fueled by pent-up frustration and veiled truths, had frozen Hyunjin. He stood there, a statue carved from confusion and a flicker of something darker. You spat out the final words, "Just get out! Leave me alone you jerk!" expecting a fight, an apology, anything but the unsettling silence that followed. He left, the quiet deafening and thick with unspoken threats. But the absence wasn't a reprieve. It was a predator stalking its prey. Every creak of the floorboards sent your pulse racing, every shadow a potential monster. Sleep was a distant memory replaced by a hypervigilance that left you drained. The bed felt vast and empty, the once comforting weight of Hyunjin beside you a chilling reminder of what you'd lost. Days blurred. The air crackled with a tension so thick you choked on it. Then, one evening, just as the remnants of hope started to flicker, Hyunjin reappeared. He wasn't the playful boy you knew. His eyes, usually sparkling with amusement, were now steely and focused. They scanned the room, lingering on you, assessing. Silence stretched, broken only by the shallow rasp of your own breath. "So," he finally spoke, his voice devoid of its usual warmth, "you want to be alone, do you?" It wasn't a question.

It was a challenge, a test to gauge your sincerity. You opened your mouth to apologize, to plead, but the words wouldn't come. The fear had lodged itself in your throat, a physical weight hindering any attempt at defiance. A slow, predatory smile spread across Hyunjin's face. "There are consequences for everything," he said, each word dripping with a chilling possessiveness. "Especially disrespect." Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wanted to scream, to fight back against the oppressive atmosphere, but the fear kept you rooted to the spot. "I… I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. Hyunjin stopped in front of you, his face inches away. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the intensity of his gaze making it difficult to breathe. "Sorry isn't enough," he said, his voice a low growl. "You will understand, one way or another, how much respect I deserve." He reached out, a single finger tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. "We don't need space," he murmured, his voice a chilling caress. "We need understanding. And you," he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear, "will learn exactly what that means." He wasn't angry, exactly. He was calculating, methodical, a predator who had finally cornered his prey.

[kenzirr]

Y/N sat at her desk, staring blankly at the computer screen. She had been part of the BAU team for a couple of years now, and yet she always felt like an outsider. Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, never seemed to acknowledge her contributions. While he often praised her colleagues, she never received a simple "good work" from him. The lack of recognition gnawed at her confidence and made her question her place in the team.

Feeling defeated, Y/N decided she needed a break. She approached JJ during lunch, handing her a neatly written request for a leave of absence.

"Hey, JJ. Can you pass this to Hotch for me?" Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

JJ took the paper, glancing at it briefly. "A leave of absence? Are you okay?"

Y/N forced a smile. "Just not feeling well lately. Need some time to recuperate."

Spencer, who was sitting nearby, looked up from his book. "But you never get sick, Y/N. I don't think I've ever seen you take a sick day."

JJ nodded in agreement. "Remember that time the whole team got the flu? You were the only one who didn't catch it."

Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay their concerns. "Guess I'm overdue, then."

Later that afternoon, JJ approached Aaron's office, knocking lightly on the door before entering. "Hotch, I have something for you," she said, handing him the request form.

Aaron took the paper, his eyes scanning it quickly. His brows furrowed, and he looked up at JJ, clearly upset. "A leave of absence? What's going on with Y/N?"

JJ hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "She said she's not feeling well. But Spencer pointed out that she never gets sick. I think there's more to it, Hotch."

Aaron leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "Thank you, JJ. I'll handle it from here."

As JJ left, Aaron dialed Y/N's number, his mind racing. When she answered, he kept his tone professional. "Y/N, it's Hotch. Can you come up to my office?"

Her heart sank. She couldn't fathom what he wanted to discuss. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the worst, and headed to his office.

As she entered, she saw Aaron sitting behind his desk, his expression unreadable. He gestured for her to sit down.

"What's going on, Y/N? JJ mentioned you're taking a leave of absence because you're sick. But you don't seem ill to me," he began, his tone gentle but firm.

Y/N looked down at her hands, struggling to find the right words. "It's not physical sickness, sir. It's... I just feel unappreciated here. You never acknowledge my work. It feels like you don't like me."

Aaron's eyes softened. "Y/N, I never intended to make you feel that way. Your work is exceptional. I apologize if my behavior made you feel unvalued."

Y/N felt a surge of emotion but held back tears. "It's not just about the praise. It's about feeling like I belong here."

Aaron stood up and walked around his desk, leaning against it as he faced her. "I understand. I promise I'll do better. I value your contributions to this team, Y/N. More than you know."

Feeling a mix of relief and confusion, Y/N nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Aaron cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Is there anything specific that made you feel this way? I want to understand so I can improve."

Y/N took a deep breath. "There were moments when you'd commend others for their work, but you'd never acknowledge mine. I started to think I was doing something wrong or that you simply didn't like me."

Aaron shook his head. "That's not true at all. I see the dedication and effort you put into every case. Your insights have been invaluable. If I failed to express that, it's my mistake, not yours."

Y/N looked up, meeting his gaze. "Why, then? Why was it so hard for you to say anything to me?"

Aaron hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes, when you care about someone, you find it difficult to act normally around them. I didn't want to let my feelings interfere with my professionalism."

Y/N blinked, taken aback. "Feelings? For me?"

Aaron nodded, his expression earnest. "Yes, Y/N. I admire you more than you know. But I wanted to keep things professional."

Feeling overwhelmed, Y/N stood up quickly. "I need some time to process this. I'll be taking my leave now."

Aaron watched her go, a pang of regret in his chest as she walked out of his office.

---

A few weeks later, Y/N returned to work, feeling somewhat refreshed but still wary of the situation with Aaron. She tried to focus on her tasks, but the memory of their conversation lingered in the back of her mind.

One evening, as they wrapped up for the day, Aaron approached Y/N's desk. "Y/N, can I speak with you for a moment?"

She looked up, slightly nervous. "Of course, sir."

He smiled, a rare but genuine expression. "Would you like to grab dinner with me tonight?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Dinner? As in... a date?"

Aaron nodded, taking a step closer to her. "Yes. I've realized that the reason I avoided talking to you was because you make me feel something I've never felt before. I want to get to know you better, outside of work."

Y/N felt a flutter of anxiety. "I... I don't know what to say."

Aaron gently placed his hands on her curvy hips, steadying her. "Just say yes. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

Her mind raced, but she nodded slowly. "Okay, Aaron. I'll go."